HOWEVER superior to mortals our art may render us, it can make no im­pression on the heart; I was born with un­commonly strong passions, and my father saw, with regret, that I would never be dis­cre [...] nor happy, without some centuries ex­perience.

Mean time I fell in love with a fairy called Prudina, who was highly esteemed for her prudence, virtue and circumspection; she was by much my elder; and was valued more for her knowledge than beauty; this attach­ment [Page 8] did me honour: she discovered it first herself, and told me of it; I could not be­lieve it, and was preparing to deny it, when observing she seemed certain, I thought it best to delay and examine myself.

Prudina then began to chide me for a pas­sion which she termed childish and foolish, but did it with so much tenderness, that she only shewed me by her lectures, there was a possibility of gaining a place in her affec­tions; and thus the love she anticipated be­came real. I declared my feelings, and my love was returned. Animated by this, I hinted marriage, which she declined till she had proved me; engaging at the same time not to tattle, and requiring a like promise of me; thus we loved and no-body knew.

As I one night was travelling through the Air to Prudina's Castle, cries of a very pitia­ble sort reached my ears, and made me stop; when looking around, I observed a youth, surrounded by his Slaves bearing torches, who seemed racked with dreadful agonies; his attendants were numerous in carriages and on horseback; and they re-echoed his complainings, which heightened the terror of the scene. I approached them, and ex­pressed a wish to be made acquainted with [Page 9] the cause of their distress. You behold, said the young man, the Prince Zimis, ce­lebrated for his love to the Princess Eliana; with whom I would have been married, had not Phormidas, that cruel Genius, become deeply enamoured of Eliana. She hated him, and he began to despair. Seizing this favourable opportunity, I set out with my Princess and their attendants for my own kingdom to celebrate our nuptials.

Just as we had entered a dismal forest, Phormidas attacked us, and tore my charm­ing Eliana from my arms.

These three days past I have been in vain endeavouring to trace the Ravisher, and here I stop, overcome with fatigue and de­spair, waiting the end of my unhappy days.

Distressed with the miseries of this unhap­py Prince, I did all in my power to comfort him. I told him how much I was interest­ed in his distresses; that my power was su­perior to that of Phormidas; I entreated him to retire to his own kingdom, where he should be again happy with Eliana before break of day. So saying, I left Zimis and his Train, and rushed into the air, to spend the night in avenging the oppressed, which I had dedicated to love. I darted with a­amazing [Page 10] velocity to the Royal Palace of the king of the Genii, acquainted him with the melancholy story, and begged his assistance to restore Eliana to the arms of her lover.

Our Sovereign took me by the hand, and told me, he would give to me the honour of this adventure, and for that purpose would inform me of other particulars. Then lead­ing into a superb saloon, ornamented with an infinitude of glasses, we must enquire, said he, into her present situation, that we may adapt our assistance to the emergency of the case: then touching one of the glasses with a golden wand, a Lady of perfect beauty appeared: notice, said he, in what situation she is. Presently the picture was completed, and I observed Eliana in a garden alone, overcome with grief, sitting in a swing, which at times reached almost to the clouds. Her condition distressed me. The Genius smiled; then mysteriously shaking his head, you will see what will afflict you more. He then gave me a Talisman, by means of which I might transport myself into the presence of Eliana whenever I pleased; but said he, be prudent, cool and courageous, and if you complete this perilous undertaking glori­ously, you shall name your own reward. [Page 11] When he had so said he left me with my Talisman, and I instantly wished myself with Eliana; immediately I was in a garden, heard voices, looked about, and by the light of the moon, which shone uncommonly bright, I saw at some distance the same Eliana I had seen in the glass; and what astonished me much, she was in the very same posture, swinging with the utmost force.

A little sylph who stood by her thus addres­sed her. It does well enough to swing a little now and then, but to be swinging, swinging, swinging constantly thus, is harsh, I think. How happy are you Zumio, replied the Princess, that can thus support your spirits, you are also a slave as well as me, but not treated with half the barbarity—Oh to what a ridiculous punishment am I condemned— Barbarous Genius—more barbarous Fairy —Here she was obliged to stop, for now, her swinging was increased to such a pitch, that she could not fetch her breath.

I now understood, the unhappy Eliana was enchanted in this distressing swing. I approached her, proffered my services, ac­quainted her with the situation of her lover, engaged to restore her to her freedom; and begged she would freely communicate all [Page 12] that had happened her. Alas! Alas! said she, my Lord, Revenge and Jealousy have invented an enchantment, which I fear you will not be able to break; so cruel, so dis­tressing are the terms which must first be fulfilled.

My Story, continued she, is shortly this; having been separated from my husband, by the cruel Phormidas, I was instantly carried to his Castle. I endeavoured to put an end to my wretched existence, and would cer­tainly have done something fatal to my life had not the Castle opened at the roof, and a Lady, or rather Fairy, made her appear­ance, riding in an ebony car drawn by four dreadful bats.—Phormidas was just then prostrate before me; but immediately rose in great confusion: The Furious Fairy, as­suming a most imperious and terrible voice, spoke in the following manner:

And do you thus betray me, perfidious wretch? Do you thus, vile ingrate, prefer a mortal to Me, who, on thy account have for­saken the most handsome of all the Genii? But, you shall not deceive me, and if you ex­pect forgiveness, surrender to me the Prin­cess, whom I will punish, and at the same time preserve her life. Keep in mind, if you [Page 13] refuse, that I am capable of much indeed to be revenged; I adore, while she abhors thee.

The affrighted Genius, kissed his chains, and submissively surrendered me to the Fai­ry. She took me into her car, which a­scending through the clouds in less than three minutes brought us here. I then prostrated myself before her, intreated her compassion, begged she would restore me to Zimis, and used every argument in my power to asswage her fury. She hesitated a little, then raised me, with these words, I am not, princess, revengeful, but whimsical; and if you will indulge me in a certain humour, which I have just taken into my head, all that has passed will be forgiven. I have a singular predilection for swinging, sit down in this swing—The thought appeared to me ridiculous, but still it was an easy atonement, and I sat down very well pleased; but I was no sooner seated, than the Fairy, with a ter­rible voice, thus addressed me:

Swing here without ceasing for thirty years, unless one of my lovers shall within that time prove fickle without my knowing it.

At that moment the Swing began to swing so violently that I instantly swooned away; Zumio, the little sylph you just now spoke [Page 14] with, run to my assistance and with trouble recovered me; at first I gave up myself to despair, but I soon became calm, when I re­flected, that from what she said, it was evi­dent she had lovers, and it would be strange indeed, if none of them deceived her.

There is no doubt, replied Zumio, were it not for that valuable turquoise ring she pos­sesses, which, so soon as any of her lovers cease to admire her, or are in any degree un­faithful, turns as yellow as gold. By day, the Fairy constantly wears this ring; and lest it should be stolen while she sleeps, it is enclosed in a casket of brass, every night, and is deposited in a grot dug in her garden, the gate of which is guarded by twelve terri­ble Crocodiles, six Basilisks and four Dra­gons, who emit large stones of fire and spue out scorching flames from their terrible jaws. If you then, my lord, continued Zumio, un­dertake the glorious enterprize, consider what dangers await you: but if you prove victorious, how glorious the atchievement? how important in its consequences? when you are informed that all these surrounding gardens are filled with beautiful princesses and ladies, who are here enchanted and con­demned to dreadful and tormenting punish­ments [Page 15] by the Jealous Fairy. For her barba­rity has not been confined to rivals only, but all who have given her umbrage have shared the same fate; and she is the enemy of all, who are remarkable for beauty, wit, virtue and other valuable accomplishments. For my own part, I was once her most admired page; I carried her most private letters and billets-doux; unluckily I became the object of her suspicion, and am now her prisoner.

Heavens! cried I, interrupting Zumio, what is her infamous name; tell me, O tell me, the name of such a monster.

Alas, my lord, replied Zumio, her hypo­crisy is as remarkable as her wickedness. She is adored by the Genii, and supposed to be the most virtuous of her tribe—How will you be astonished to hear—her name is— Prudina. Amazed, I left them precipitately, and by means of my Talisman, was instant­ly at the gate of this well defended cavern. It would be tiresome to you to repeat the ob­stacles I surmounted, suffice it, that prompt­ed by every noble, every animating princi­ple, and incited by rage, malice and hatred, I overcame, and that only because being a Genius I was immortal. The monsters I vanquished; I tore down the gates and re­duced [Page 16] them to powder; and then snatched the casket, with its precious contents. The ring was a beautiful citron-colour; so pla­cing it on my finger, I swore it should never be removed.

The instant I had done so, the garden re-echoed from a thousand voices, the joyful ac­clamations of Liberty! Liberty! grateful thanks to Phanor! Freedom! Liberty!

Immediately I left the Grotto, and found the garden filled with young and beautiful ladies, differently drest, who were running a­bout embracing and congratulating one ano­ther, while they repeated with loud voices, Thanks to the Genius Phanor! Liberty! Liber­ty! As the day began to break, I soon dis­covered, leaning on the arm of the little Sylph, the incomparable Eliana. Observing me, she run towards me, exclaiming, see, see, our brave deliverer! immediately her companions followed her example, some madly kissing me, some hugging me in their arms, some clasping my knees, and others seizing me by the hands and arms. One more frantic than the rest, leapt upon my back, and with a shrill voice sounded in my ear the words of Liberty, Liberty. This disturbing exclamation, was continued so [Page 17] long and so violently, that I was almost stun­ned with the noise, when the Sovereign of the Genii himself approached, mounted on a white Elephant; he instantly ordered the noisy company to be silent, and addressed me thus. It belongs to you, Phanor, to give sentence on Prudina, as the Sole Ruler of her fate.

Her character, Gracious Sire, replied I, is unveiled; which is sufficient Revenge, but I intreat in behalf of these her unfortunate victims, whom I recommend to your pity; command them to be transported each to their native country, their friends, their Lo­vers, or where their hearts wish.

Immediately, the Genius raised his scep­tre and they all vanished; now said he, turn­ing to me, I engaged to perform whatever you wished as a reward, and I will fulfil; but let me advise you to consider well, be­fore you determine, and when you have done so, come to me.

Having thus said, he left me; I accord­ingly resolved immediately to quit a place, which only furnished me with gloomy reflec­tions, when I accidently observed the little sylph, Zumio, conversing at the back of a tree, with one of the most beautiful women [Page 18] I had ever seen. I was greatly astonished; when he came up to me and told me, he was determined to cleave to me at all haz­ards, and therefore had not left the Garden. This beautiful Lady, said he, will tell you her own history, if you incline. Undoubt­edly, replied I.

She smiled assent; and sitting down by her, I entreated her to communicate freely, what had determined her to remain there.

My Lord, said she, the other Ladies have all Lovers or husbands; I neither. Their fidelity, I approve, but cannot follow. But as you wish to hear an account of my ad­ventures, I shall certainly attempt it.

Agelia having thus finished her history, I arose, and with my wand, describing a cir­cle in the air, transformed the palace and gardens of the fairy, into a superb palace, situated on the top of a hill, and found our­selves standing on the terrace, which com­manded a most delightful prospect. The view of rocks, water-falls, precipices, vil­lages, flocks and herds, and the sea, quite [Page 24] transported the happy Agelia; for all the pleasing and majestic objects of nature were united, but no plains. There, said I to A­gelia, you are Queen; and if you wish me gone, speak the word, and however great the sacrifice, you shall be obeyed; for my happiness is to see you satisfied.

Her reply at first was tender and perplex­ed; but she soon resumed her accustomed ga­iety and was uncommonly pleasant through­out the day: towards night, she fell into a kind of languid melancholy, which added to her charms, and made her so beautiful that I lost my heart irrecoverably.

I conducted her to the terrace after sup­per, where the prospect of the star-bediz­zened sky amazed her; she trembled, and gaped up in rapture. Oh, cried she, what an amazing spectacle!

Falling at her knees, I ventured to con­fess my admiration and love. She heard me attentively, and was affected, she wept, I pressed her for an answer. Having paused a little and wiped off her tears, Phanor, said she, I sensibly feel your kindness, and your tender behaviour, but give me time to look into mine own heart, and to know more of yours. And then left me.

[Page 25]I instantly examined my turquoise ring, and to my great joy found that she loved me. The day following I pressed still more urgent­ly for an answer. I dread, says she, lest I should impose both on you and myself.

Fear not, my beauteous Agelia, said I in a rapture, and prostrating myself before her, I know I am beloved; I cannot doubt my happiness—at these words I ceased, per­ceiving in Agelia's looks, that she consider­ed my certainty as presumptuous; and in truth, it had a vain appearance. She ap­peared reserved, and treated me somewhat disdainfully. I found it necessary to be more prudent, and assumed a tone of despair. A­gelia softened, and in a little time acknow­ledged I had gained her heart; the day, the happy day was fixed, when two hearts so sud­denly cemented by love were to be still more closely united at the altar of Hymen.

I was walking on the terrace with Agelia on the evening preceding the wished-for day; she fixed her eyes on the ocean which wash­ed the palace walls. I had remarked that for two days past she had appeared more absent and much less enraptured than formerly, yet my ring retained its usual colour, and her appearance of consequence distressed me the [Page 26] less. Pausing a little, she turns to me. Can­not you, said she, with whom almost every thing is possible, make these rocks and moun­tains disappear; for the prospect is quite over­loaded, and the eye has no relief; you have too much water; those dreadful rocks terrify the mind, and it is painful to hear the roar­ings of the sea.

And have these Landscapes, in which you so much delighted formerly, wearied you, my Agelia, said I; since that is your will then, they also shall disappear, however highly I value them, and they are dear to me indeed, since it was here, you first promised to be mine.

She made me no answer, but gave me her hand with a look of mildness and love: I kissed it with rapture. She at this moment, cast her eye upon my ring, and with a seem­ingly careless air, pulled it off my finger. This rather startled me, however, fearful to raise her suspicion, I suffered her to examine it more closely.

This ring is of a beautiful colour, said she, but I hate turquoise; Oh fie! it is badly mounted; I dislike it much; and with these words, she raised her arm and cast it into the sea, without allowing me time to suspect [Page 27] her intention, much less to preserve what I considered as a most valuable treasure.

I stood fixed with surprise; and Agelia looked at me with a certain sort of mischiev­ous delight which provoked me;—I re­strained myself a little, but soon gave vent to every reproach which could be incited by the most violent rage and passion. She looked at me with great composure. Having heard me to an end, I acknowledge said she, the se­cret qualities of your ring I have been in­formed of. A suspicion of it has hung about me some days, and Zumio satisfied me. In­famous Zumio, I exclaimed!

I made him believe I was in the secret, and led him on to betray you; he has been prudent enough; but like many others out­witted by a woman; for human wisdom, pe­netration, nor philosophy have not yet disco­vered an antidote for female powers, and this, even Genii themselves have experien­ced. But, my Lord, if your distress at los­ing this turquoise is on my account, it is vain, for I am not in the least degree disposed to deceive you.

But why, cruel woman, have you depriv­ed me of this valuable ring; which would [Page 28] have prevented all doubts, and rendered pro­testations useless?

But, my lord, I delight in talking, now the ring left me nothing to chatter a­bout; and you yourself must acknowledge that such a bond, was not paying me a com­pliment. How generous, noble and deli­cate would it have been, after I had been pouring out my love-sick effusions into your bosom, for you to sneak into a corner and demand confirmation from your ring? You say you love me; I believe you, without a ring. I will explain love to you. When­ever I confessed my love to you, you should have taken this villainous Talisman, this high-prized treasure, and cast it for ever from you, saying, This is now useless, since I am so well assured of her love.

I heard her out with amazement; then falling on my knees, I entreated her for­bearance and pardon.

Forbearance! exclaimed she, you are in­sensible of its worth; the injuries you have just mentioned, did I not forgive? and when I cast your ring into the sea, could you not recollect, that it had not changed its colour; but your rage, that unworthy passion you just now vented—

[Page 29]O my Agelia, have patience, you har­row up my soul. You cannot now, my lord, dive into my heart as before, but I will not even now deceive you; my word is far more to be depended on than any ring —Hear me then, and believe me— I love you not, nor ever shall.

These words she pronounced so steadily and coolly, that they left me no room to question their reality. My love for her was of the most fervent kind; this misfortune I could not support, I gave place to despair. Falling at her feet, I bedewed them with my tears, and besought her, to leave me only a gleam of hope.

Let this teach you, said she, the value of your ring, you cannot bear the truth, and therefore intreat me to deceive you—It is very proper to endeavor to remove fantasies which disturb or distress us, but why should we those that amuse and comfort us? Take an advice from me, my lord; and by all means be on your guard in future, never to apply your attention in constructing a Talis­man like that from which I have relieved you; for when you do, depend upon it, you are but constructing fresh torments. Be on your guard against men, and be jealous [Page 30] of them, but never let your friend or mis­tress be suspected.

Her advice was a good one, but as my misfortunes were not yet at an end, I disre­garded it. Nothing would have effect on Agelia, she continued unmoved; and I found it necessary to leave her, overwhelm­ed with despair, and spent some months at a distance from her, where I gave full vent to my grief. I was attended here, by Zumio, who was so much attached to me, so chear­ful and gentle, that I forgot he was the un­designed source of my misery, and made him my constant companion; besides I could talk to him of Agelia.

Zumio entertained me from time to time with accounts of his travels, for he had seen much of the world, and told his story grace­fully. Among other things he frequently talked to me of a Princess, he named Arpa­lisa, of whom he said so many fine things, that he raised my curiosity about her—Is she as handsome as Agelia, said I?

As handsome as Agelia! replied Zumio, in derision; You had never fallen in love with her, had you seen Arpalisa; Agelia is pleasant and agreeable enough, with a little dash of wit at times; but at best she is whim­sical [Page 31] to an extreme, wild and uncommonly thoughtless; it is foolish to compare her with Arpalisa, who is a most complete mo­del of perfection; her beauty dazzling; the depth of her understanding astonishing; her accomplishments, virtues, greatness of soul, sensibility and extent of knowledge would enchant you—Oh, did you hear her discourse on friendship.

There was no stopping of Zumio, when he began to talk of Arpalisa; till at length the daily hearing so much of her, gave a great inclination to see this wonderful Princess.

In spite of all Agelia had said, I could not help regretting the want of the ring: I had still my reward to ask from the sovereign of the Genii; so after much uncertainty and many resolutions I at length went to him, and asked him to construct me a castle, into which whoever entered, should be compel­led by a secret charm, to speak whatever were their secret thoughts; while, I myself only, as possessor of the castle, should have an exemption from the general law: for, Discretion, said I, is necessary for a lover, and I would not wish to expose myself to act improperly. I besought the sovereign, that in the Castle, I might hear the language of [Page 32] sincerity; see things as they really are: and those who speak should speak their real thoughts; I intreated, that those who wished to deceive, might not be sensible of their say­ing the very contrary of their meaning; that they should not hear themselves, but sup­pose they really expressed that flattery with which they meant to impose on others—This double charm was absolutely necessary, other­wise many would keep silence.

Rash thoughtless Phanor, replied the Ge­nius, what an imprudent request?—My oath is however sacred; therefore go to your own place, and in place of the house you have for­merly possessed, that which you have desired will be in its room. I have here a box for you, which will preserve you from its dangerous laws; preserve it, and you will speak only what you wish; or any person in whose pos­session it may be; but be careful to preserve it, as I cannot make another of the kind. I took the box from the monarch of the Ge­nii, and departed with many expressions of gratitude.

I now found a Castle, in the spot where the former stood, the dazzling appearance of which charmed me: It was built of a com­position which had all the splendor, strength [Page 33] and transparency of the most resplendent Dia­mond; the workmanship noble, yet light; and ornamented with various precious stones; on the Golden Doors, was the following in­scription, ' The Castle of Truth.'

I touched the gates with my wand, as I en­tered, pronounced these words, whosoever en­ters the gates of this Castle must remain three months; and I swear by my Art, that unalter­able oath, I never will cancel this law. Then opening the gates I commanded free access to all who inclined.

I soon experienced the danger attend­ing a Castle of Truth. My slaves and atten­dants now answered me with the utmost can­dour and honesty, every question I asked them; and very soon so provoked my rage, that I speedily closed the doors on them all; and indeed, their fidelity and attachment have never been replaced to me. I even be­gan to be displeased with Zumio; I saw into his real character, and found he was both de­ficient in discernment and understanding; that multiplicity of unmeaning words to which he gave free scope disgusted me, and I was astonished they had ever entertained me. I found a great many faults in him, I did not know of before; he was very obsti­nate, [Page 34] contradicted me at every word; in short, I was disgusted with his want of polite­ness.

As he still said, however, he had a friend­ship for me, I did not come to an absolute rupture with him; but I scolded or snapped at him continually, and he insolently replied my pride was insupportable. I commanded him to be silent; he would shrug his shoul­ders, mock me, alternately shew anger or vexation, and thus we passed our time, either sullenly, or wrangling with each other.

Quite tired of his tete-a-tete, I continually hoped some travellers, invited by the brilliant aspect of my Palace, would wish to enter; but passengers contented themselves with ad­miring it; they approached it eagerly, but as soon as they read the inscription, as eager­ly left it, and pursued their way.

One day as I stood with Zumio, on a balcony, we saw a magnificent Chariot at a distance, driving towards the Palace. I knew by my Art this Chariot belonged to a King, accompanied with seven or eight Courtiers. As it approached, Zumio said, at last I hope we shall have a visitor, for which I shall be very glad, for I have been most dread­fully dull ever since I have been here.

[Page 35]As Zumio spoke, the Chariot advanced to the gates; the King read the inscription, and his first movement was to enter; but the courtiers grew pale, shuddered, and de­tained him. The King persisted for some time; at last he suffered himself to be per­suaded, and withdrew; the Courtiers once more recovered their breath, turned the Chariot precipitately away, and soon were out of sight.

So they are gone, cried Zumio, with chagrin; but while you will persist to leave that cursed inscription over the gate, we shall never see a soul. You are so wilful! —I really never met with a Genius so ob­stinate and stupid.

Your insolence is beyond all bounds, Zumio.

Oh! what you want truth and compli­ments both at once; your folly is really in­comprehensible, and at some moments you are as inconsistent and foolish as you are proud.

Shocked at his excessive impertinence, I was going to drive him from me, when I perceived a figure that fixed my whole at­tention. A venerable old man, with a ma­jestic presence that inspired respect, and a [Page 36] mild placidity in his countenance, which in­terested the heart in spite of itself, approach­ed with a book in his hand, reading, and walking slowly.

When he came opposite the Castle gates, he lifted up his eyes, and read the inscrip­tion. Oh, thou, said he, whom for these forty years I have sought! O! celestial Truth, am I then in my latter days permit­ted to see thee unclouded, and as thou art?

So saying, the old man entered the Pa­lace.

So here is one at last, said Zumio, and instantly left me to go and meet the stran­ger. I followed my little hair-brained Sylph, and we soon met the old man. Zumio flew; come in, come good man, said he, you are very welcome, especially if you can rid us of our horrid dulness. You are old, have been in various scenes of life, and can tell us a good many stories; but first, pray what is your name?

Gelanor, replied the old man; in my youth I lived among men; I have been a great traveller, and for these last twenty years have devoted my days to solitude.

Ah! I perceive, interrupted Zumio, you are a Philosopher; we shall not be much [Page 37] the merrier for you.—Nor will you find much entertainment here, for Philosophers are curious; you, no doubt, imagine you may study mankind in this place, but that is your mistake; you will find no body here but this Genius, my Master, and me: he, as you perceive, is not very communica­tive; besides, there is nothing original in his character. As for me, it is true, I have a deal of wit, many virtues and accomplish­ments, and it will take you some time to know me.

I know you better at present, replied Ge­lanor, smiling, than you seem to know yourself.

I now spoke in turn, and asked him what was his opinion of himself?

I am good, said he, but imperfect; yet cannot conceive, after having led a life of reflection, and of endeavours to know my own heart, how I can still have so many de­fects and foibles. This idea, however, is so often present to my mind, that it pre­serves me from pride, and makes me indul­gent. My public and private actions are irreproachable; but I often experience in­terior sensations which are humiliating; and were I to render an exact and circumstantial [Page 38] account of all the ideas which present them­selves to my imagination, I am afraid I should not be found much wiser than others.

When he had said thus, I approached Ge­lanor, and embraced him with most respect­ful affection. Oh, my father! said I, I can­not express my admiration; you are a true philosopher, and I shall ever honour, shall eternally respect all those who resemble you.

Some days after this conversation, I deter­mined to obliterate the inscription from the gates of my Palace. I then quitted Gelanor and Zumio, and, without telling them my project, guided by that curiosity which Zu­mio had inspired, departed for the kingdom of the Princess Arpalisa. Fearing Zumio's indiscretion, I would neither take him with me, nor impart my design.

I soon came to this celebrated Princess, who would not receive me till evening, and I was then introduced into a superb saloon, lighted in a most agreeable manner, the wax lights were all within crystal, covered with white gauze, or set in vases of alabaster; which artifice produced a softness, some­what like clear moon-light. The Princess was seated on a Throne of gold, over which was a pavilion, decorated with drapery of [Page 39] silver gauze; garlands of roses formed ele­gant festoons, and crowns were suspended over her head.

Arpalisa was clothed in magnificent robes, garnished with precious stones. Her appear­ance was dazzling, and her beauty seemed to me regular and majestic; though the was not very young, I admired her shape; her noble air, the surprising fairness of her com­plexion, and was charmed with her conver­sation.

The next day my admiration was more increased, when, by the orders of the Prin­cess, I was conducted into a gallery full of paintings, and informed they were all the performances of Arpalisa; they were on the most interesting subjects; Temples to Friendship, sacrifices to Friendship, Friend­ship triumphing over love: Time crowning and embelishing friendship: or Altars to Benevolence, Benevolence enlightened by Virtue, Compassion exciting Benevolence, &c. &c. In fine, it was not possible to leave this gallery, without a full persuasion that Arpalisa was the most gentle and virtuous Princess in the universe.

From thence I was led to the Laboratory, and, returning, my Conductor told me, in [Page 40] confidence, that the Princess employed her time, with equal advantage, in Astronomy and Mathematics. As I had a particular love for those sciences, I was enchanted at the discovery: though the high opinion I had before conceived of the Princess was al­most incapable of increase.

There was a Concert in the evening, and a Symphony of Arpalisa's composition was performed. The Princess then sat down to the harpsichord, and sang; her voice did not appear very remarkable, but, in fact, it was almost entirely drowned by the ac­companyments; but an excellent musician who sat by my side, assured me, she sung in a superior style; and I found he had reason to say so, for every body was in raptures.

After supper, they made extempore Poe­try and Enigmas, which gave the Princess an opportunity of shewing her wit. I could not recover from my amazement; what I heard was incredible, and I found it would not be possible long to preserve my liberty in the presence of so accomplished a Princess.

Every body retired at midnight, and I remained alone with Arpalisa, and her bo­som friend Telira. The two friends were re­clined on a couch, and tenderly folded in [Page 41] each other's arms; the picture was delight­ful; I contemplated it in silence, and listen­ed while they said every thing the sublimest friendship could dictate. Arpalisa gave me so lively, and so affecting an impression of her love for Telira, that I was moved even to tears.

I could not forbear to testify, in part, the admiration she inspired; I praised her ta­lents, her knowledge, and introduced the subjects of Astronomy and Mathematics; but Arpalisa, with a tone of the utmost mo­desty, stopt me, by saying, I am exceeding­ly vexed, my Lord, you have been per­suaded I employ my leisure hours on subjects so little proper for a woman; and were it true I had a taste for such sciences, I would make it a law with myself never to own it. Pedantry and affectation are utter strangers to my heart—And my pretensions really are very few.

This uncommon modesty finished her con­quest. I was in transports, and returned to my chamber only to think of Arpalisa. I pas­sed a part of the night in writing to her and making verses upon her. I invented the most ingenious and brilliant feasts; she seemed sensible of my attention; I declared [Page 42] my passion, and she owned that, my power and rank out of the question, she partook my passion; but by an insurmountable deli­cacy, she never could resolve to marry a Ge­nius; for, after a while, added she, you might attribute that to ambition, which was the pure effect of love. Oh, that you had been born less illustrious!

Such sentiments enchanted, yet drove me to despair.

At other moments, Arpalisa would vaunt the mild content of her present situation. I have no ambition, said she, Friendship is the charm of my life; Love I have never known, and dread to know; for I have a heart too fond, a sensibility too delicate; I am happy and peaceable, and must not flatter you; I cannot resolve to sacrifice such pure and per­fect content. No, my Lord, incapable of feigning, incapable of the least coquetry, I would not give you deceitful hopes. Quit this Palace, fly me for your own repose— and for mine.

Love at last, however, was triumphant, and Arpalisa consented to give me her hand.

Prudina had rendered me so suspicious, I was determined not to wed even the divine Arpalisa, till I had first heard her in the Pa­lace [Page 43] of Truth. I doubted not her sincerity, yet it was impossible I could sacrifice to her the proof of my Palace. I told her I could wed only in my territories, but took care not to mention a word of the charm. She con­sented to accompany me, and only required Telira should go with her; for, said she, I could not endure separation from so dear a friend. We departed, and soon found our­selves in the avenues to my Castle.

The aspect of this redoubted place, gave the most lively emotions. I am going, said I, to discover the true state of the heart of her I love; if she be such as I imagine, how much I shall reproach myself for having thought the proof of this Castle necessary; and if she be not, what an angelic illusion shall I lose!

At last we entered the Castle, and I cast a trembling eye on my Princess; but what was my surprize, when I discovered the ce­lestial, the seraphic Arpalisa, was forty-eight years old; was loaded with paint, had pen­cilled eye-brows, false hair, and a made up form; in fine, that she was bald, red-haired, old, and crooked.

Zumio, who had come to meet me, did not know her in the Castle of Truth; and [Page 44] burst out a laughing, as soon as he beheld a figure so ridiculous, leaning familiarly and triumphantly on my arm. I was so much dis­concerted that I hastily quitted the Princess, without troubling myself about what she might think of my behaviour.

Zumio followed me; I give you joy of your good fortune, my Lord, said he; you have, indeed, found a most rare beauty. I really wonder how you could make such a conquest; your choice, however, proves how substantial your taste is, and you never need fear a rival, or the torments of jealousy.

A single word deprived Zumio of all his pleasantry; I only named Arpalisa, and he stood confounded and aghast.

After a moment's silence, my Lord, said he, I easily conceive your chagrin and dis­gust: but though the beauty of this Prin­cess be borrowed, though her complexion, shape, and flowing hair, are all artificial, I yet flatter myself we have not been deceived in her soul, her understanding, and talents; and as she has said she loves you, I am per­suaded you will find she spoke truth.

If so, said I, Zumio, If I have had the mis­fortune to make such a woman love me, [Page 45] what will become of me? My only consola­tion, my only hope, is to find her perfidious.

An attendant now came, to tell me the Princess was inquiring for me, and decorum obliged me to go.

I found her alone in a chamber, and ex­tended on a couch, she had a handkerchief and a smelling-bottle, and, as soon as she per­ceived me, began to make the most strange contortions.

What ails you, madam! said I; are you not well?

She made no reply, but continued her contortions, and I repeated my question. She then cast a languishing look at me, and said, I am pretending to be in a fit.

I see you are, replied I.

Well, and are not you affected?

How can I avoid it? But why are you in a fit?

Because you left me so coldly, when I en­tered the Palace; and I want to persuade you my sensibily is excessive, and that I passion­ately love you.

And do you really love me?

I! not the least in the world. I love no­thing.

Here the Princess thinking she had spo­ken [Page 46] the most tender things possible, pretend-to weep and dry her eyes, and I recovered. Freed from all inquietude, I now thought proper to prolong a conversation which di­verted me; and taking Arpalisa by the hand, You quite melt me, said I; who can be in­sensible to so many charms, and so much love?—But how your hand shakes!

Yes, said she, I do that on purpose, to make you believe I have convulsive motions.

But it must be very fatiguing.

Not in the least, habit has made me ex­pert.—But you shall presently see some­thing more; I have not played half my tricks yet; before we have done you shall see me faint.

Pray, tell me what is become of Telira.

Oh, we have quarrelled.

What, already?

Yes, and I mean to persuade you, that Telira is in part the cause of the situation in which you now see me.

Why, what has passed between you?

Oh! you never heard such insolence; she told me I was deceitful, vain, envious, insensible; that my pride was unmeasured, my ambition insatiable. I replied, I had never really loved her; that it was all affec­tation, [Page 47] and that had she been handsomer and more amiable, she would have given me offence; that I had not the least regard for her, nor would make the least sacrifice to serve her.

It is inconceivable that this should vex her.

Oh! she left the room in a fury.

Did you ever repose confidence in her?

I never had confidence in any person. I desire no friends but dupes and slaves; not but I have often confided my secrets, but then it was merely through vanity; and I always disguised or altered facts, and added circumstances, for lies cost me nothing when they would give me consequence.

You are quite adorable, and so benevo­lent!

Yes, I love pomp and shew excessively.

When we are united, you shall dispose of all my treasures. How many wretches will you relieve with my wealth?

Oh! I will certainly keep it all myself.

Divine Arpalisa, how you enchant me! What an astonishing union of Virtue, Wit, and Knowledge; for it is in vain you would deny you are as learned as beautiful? Your Courtiers told me all; they assured me the evening before we departed, there was not [Page 48] in the whole nation so profound a mathema­tician as yourself.

They are paid to say so, and are disgraced if they do not. I am exceedingly ignorant, though I wish to be thought otherwise.

How modest!—and then your paint­ings—

Are every one done by Zolphir.

And the charming Symphonies—

Are all composed by Gerastus.

You are really unique in this world.

It is certain no person ever had more art, or carried dissimulation farther; for I have imposed upon the most knowing and clear-sighted people.

Arpalisa in pronouncing this phrase, cer­tainly intended a most modest answer; for she took so humble an air, with down-cast eyes, and made such comic and ridiculous grimaces, that I could with difficulty re­strain myself from laughter. Her tone of voice, and the faces she made, agreed so ill with what she uttered, and formed a contrast so singular and pleasant, that I found it im­possible to sustain the conversation any long­er. I rose to leave her; she called me with a feeble voice, telling me, at the same time, she was going to close her eyes, and to fall [Page 49] into dreadful convulsions. I got away, and went to relate my adventure to the Sylph and the Philosopher.

You pretend, said I to Gelanor, this Castle can only give me pain, and that it can never be of use to me while I am attatched to the world; that, in a word, it is only fit for one who is already undeceived by reason, and freed from the power of the passions; but do you not now see its use? For had not I brought Arpalisa hither, I should have mar­ried a woman at once old, ugly, deceitful, ambitious, and wicked.

But, my Lord, replied Gelanor, you might, without setting foot in this Castle, have easily seen this woman nearly as she is, had you been less subject to take things on trust, and had you less vanity. Learn to see with your own eyes, to judge from facts, and not from the opinions of others; do not so easily believe it is impossible when you think proper to act the lover, you should not be beloved; and I may assure you, that you will in no part of the world become the dupe of such women as Arpalisa.

Do you think it no advantage, said I, a lit­tle touched, to hear a Philosopher speak to me with so much freedom.

[Page 50]When you do not reject truth, replied Ge­lanor, she will always approach you; she is not shut up within these Castle walls, but is omnipresent upon earth, and is seen more or less disguised, according to the weakness, pride or sincerity with which she is sought; mortal eyes could not support her presence in every incident of life, and thus it is she is seen in this Castle, where she destroys all sweet and innocent illusions, as well as dan­gerous errors; she here wears so savage a form, so pitiless, so hard, so rude, that she wounds and disgusts even when she might be useful.

These reflections did not make me change my opinion; experience only could make me wise.

I questioned Zumio what had passed in the Castle during my absence. Ever since your inscription has been erased, answered Zumio, we have had plenty of visitors; and the crowd is now great; the company is nume­rous, but the bands of society are broken; dispute's, endless quarrels, and gross rudenes­ses are continually heard. Politeness is ab­solutely banished; they rail at each other without art or indulgence; they cannot ca­luminate, but the most biting rancour makes [Page 51] them amends; they hate openly, exclaim, scold, and continue an eternal uproar, of which you can form no idea.

And how do the women behave?

More ridiculous in general than the men; the slightest subject engenders mortal hatred, and they discover falsehood so meditated, and artifices, often so puerile, as scarcely to be credited. One tells us, she hopes we shall believe the sight of a Spider makes her ill▪ another, that she is going to make us imagine she shall fall into hysterics at the sight of a Cat; and even when they have no particular views to answer, some will practise deceit, for so they think they do, merely for amusement: but, continued Zumio, co­quettes are most of all disgusting, for they discover so much effrontery, sentiments so perverse, tricks so absurd, so—

What, interrupted I, has not one virtuous woman entered the Castle!

Pardon me, my Lord, there is one.

Zumio stopped, and seemed embarrassed. What is the matter, Zumio, said I, what ails you? Speak, I insist upon it.

I am in love, and am mortally afraid you should become my Rival.

And would you not sacrifice your Love to me?

[Page 52]No, indeed.

No! You, who have assured me there is no sacrifice you would not make to secure my happiness!

I exaggerred greatly. I am much attach­ed to you, but I should hesitate to deceive you for Rosamond.

The confession is expressive and passionate. —And Rosamond is very charming.

There is not her equal in the universe; her heart is honest and unpolluted, and de­serving the love of a Sylph.

And you love her?

The purity of her sentiments please me, and she has told me she has an inclination for me.

If you are beloved, what have you to fear? For should ambition seduce her, she will be obliged to speak truth, and cannot therefore persuade me I have the preference.

Oh! I am certain of her heart; I am on­ly fearful she should turn your head, and that you then might trouble our repose.

Oh! fear nothing, Zumio, I am no ty­rant; besides, I do not wish to become your rival; and I protest I can converse without trouble or danger, however charming she may be, so long as you shall have her affec­tions.

[Page 53]Since you are resolved to see her, let me go first and speak to her

Why so?

Because—

Nay, answer.

Because I wish to prejudice her against you by telling her your faults.

You are very obliging, but I will not give you that trouble; tell me only if she knows the effect of this Castle.

Undoubtedly; she has been here these six weeks, and it is scarcely possible to live in it two days without finding that out.

Followed by the sorrowful and zealous Zumio, I went to find Rosamond, but met Ar­palisa. As soon as she saw me, my Lord, cried she, what kind of a place is this you have brought me to? What strange people are assembled in this Castle? I went into the Saloon for a moment, and there I found the very worst kind of company; women so stu­pid, men so coxcomical.—Such rudeness! —I never beheld such manners; if you knew the insolence I have been offered— I was in despair to see every body admiring a young Lady they call Rosamond. I endea­voured to dissemble my vexation, but could not; and so I called aloud, Gentlemen, [Page 54] come here, look at me, think of me, pay your addresses to me, and leave that young beauty, whom I detest, since she pleases and attracks all the men.

No sooner had I addressed them thus, than they all burst out a laughing, and hooted, and mocked, as if I had said the most ridi­culous thing in the world; I then told them I was the Queen of the Castle, and that to­morrow I should be your Bride; on which their hue and cry began again, and they were even insolent enough to call me old mad-woman.—Give me vengeance, my Lord, and drive this Rosamond from the Castle.

Then she has particularly offended you?

She is the only one who offered me no in­sult, but my hatred is not the less strong; she obtained new praises of her mildness and modesty, and besides she is so beautiful.— I have endeavoured to defame her as much as possible before you; therefore tell me, my Lord, whether what I have said to you, has made any impression upon you.

A very strong one I assure you; and I will go and seek Rosamond immediately, to tell what I think of your justice and moderation.

Go not near her, my Lord, she will se­duce you.

[Page 55]Pray be calm. Zumio, conduct the Prin­cess to her apartment.

So saying, I waited not for an answer, but flew to find Rosamond, who was in fact what love and envy painted her; her beauty was angelic, her modesty and understand­ing wonderful. I looked, listened, and en­vied the happiness of Zumio; but as, thanks to the Box which the King of the Genii had given me, I could dissemble my thoughts, I did not inform Rosamond of the strong impression she made upon my heart; I con­tented myself with only reading her's; she told me she was neither coquetish nor incon­stant; that Zumio was the first object she had loved; that she had not any violent pas­sion for him at present, but that she felt her love would soon equal Zumio's.

I quitted Rosamond, enchanted by her beauty, wit, and character. In the even­ing I was out of temper, and especially with Zumio; he complained; I became more vexed, and drove him from my presence, but called him back a moment after, not to do him justice, but to prevent his being with Rosamond; I felt my own tyranny, which love would not of itself have produced; but [Page 56] Zumio enraged me, by the rudeness and severity of his expressions and reproaches.

The sage Gelanor in vain endeavoured to make peace between us; alas, said he, were you not in this Castle, and otherwise in the same situation, Zumio would disguise his injurious fears, and excessive resentment, and appear mild and moderate, and you would then be equitable and generous. Re­member, my Lord, he is forced to speak what he thinks; remember he is under the dominion of love and anger, and that to­morrow he will not think as he does to-day.

Do you not see, exclaimed Zumio, that Phanor only wants a pretext to banish me the Castle, that he may drive me from Ros­amond; for do not suppose, that he, like us, is obliged to speak what he thinks; his art preserves him from any such necessity: he will not own it, because he is naturally suspicious▪ but I have found him out in more than twenty falsehoods: thus while he reads our secrets, in spite of ourselves, his own are locked up. What cowardice! what unworthy meanness!

This reproach, which I but too much merited, drove me so furious, that had it not been for Gelanor, I should certainly [Page 57] have committed some fatal crime. Stop, madman, cried the Philosopher, stop, com­plete not your dishonour by avenging your­self on a defenceless Rival.

The authoritative voice of virtue brought me to myself; but Gelanor could not con­vince me of my error without vexing me; I left him hastily, and went and shut myself in my own apartment, that I might indulge, with­out constraint, my chagrin and ill-humour.

I became gloomy, impatient, morose, fled society, wandered mournfully in my Castle, and sought for Rosamond against my will; she avoided me when I endeavoured to ap­proach her; I saw so much perplexity and disdain in her countenance that I durst not speak.

I found her one evening alone in the gar­den, sitting in a bower, plunged in a deep reverie. I advanced, and perceiving she had been weeping, I asked her the cause of her inquietude? She sighed, Zumio, replied she, has just left me; I saw he was dissatisfi­ed with me, and that afflicts me.

Dissatisfied! said I, with extreme plea­sure, why?

Rosamond made me no answer, except by a look of indignation. In vain did I press [Page 58] and question her; she was obstinately silent; hope entered my heart. Zumio was dissatisfi­ed—Rosamond durst not speak; I imagined she read my heart and was affected: all my resolutions, all the obligations I had to Zu­mio's attachment were forgotten. I fell at her feet, and declared my love in the most passionate terms. I could obtain no answer, but neither could I observe the colouring of anger on the beauteous cheeks of Rosa­mond; on the contrary, I thought her eyes spoke satisfaction. I again solicited an an­swer with fresh ardour; Rosamond, still mute, made a motion as if to rise and fly me. I fearing to displease, would not con­strain, and therefore left her.

Full of hope, or rather not doubting my happiness, I sought for solitude to think on Rosamond. I had walked thus two hours, when Zumio suddenly appeared, animated by the most violent rage. So, perfidious Spirit, cried he, you have seduced Rosa­mond. I have observed for some days past her silence and thoughtfulness, and at last the Die is cast; she has declared she loves me no longer, but that she adores you.

Zumio! What is it you tell me! Dear­est Zumio! I am sorry for you—But oh! [Page 59] be generous enough to sacrifice your love.

I am obliged to sacrifice it, but at the same time my friendship for you is gone.

Nay, Zumio—

You merit not a friend; nor will I ever forget or forgive treachery so black.

Accuse me not of treachery, Zumio, for you never confided in me. You suspected me before I thought of Rosamond; had it not been for your unjust jealousy, your in­jurious reproaches and passions, Phanor had never been your rival; but you insulted, vexed, aggravated me, and so highly of­fended me, that for a moment I forgot our friendship. I have been weak, but not per­fidious; besides, in robbing you of Rosa­mond's heart, I have broken no sacred en­gagements; she had not promised to give you her hand. Hope was all she had grant­ed. Triumph then, dear Zumio, over your resentment, and make not my wrongs great­er than they are. Rosamond is altered, think not of her, and torment me not with such distressing complaints.

When I had said this, I drew near to take Zumio in my arms; but he immediately drew back; and run off, saying, I detest you.

[Page 60]I was astonished, yet happy, and forgave him his anger, and without troubling my­self more about it, flew to find Rosamond. She received me at first with great perplex­ity; but how excessive was my joy, when she blushing owned she loved me, and me only; that she had never felt for Zumio more than an emotion of preference, but her love for me was real.

Do you indeed love me for myself, cried I, has ambition no—Here Rosamond in­terrupted me;—dare you presume to think it; banish such suspicions, my Lord, they are insults. I never had other ambition than that of pleasing you; and if you had no Castle but a cottage to offer me, all the Kings and Genii of the world would be re­fused for you.

You may more easily imagine, than I de­scribe, the motions I felt at hearing an an­swer like this in the Castle of Truth. How much did I congratulate myself on the pos­session of this Castle, which procured me happiness so pure; for, said I, could I have persuaded myself any where else, that in this answer there was no exaggeration.

To expedite our nuptials I left her, and gave orders for their being solemnized next [Page 61] day. The news soon resounded through the Castle. As for Arpalisa, she had known the Charm above a fortnight, and had shut her­self up in her apartment there, to hide from all eyes her fury and her shame; and there to wait, as she did with inexpressible impa­tience, the expiration of the three months, which she was obliged to remain in this en­chanted Castle. Zumio, become my enemy, was with her; for my own part, being to­tally occupied about Rosamond, I neither felt the happiness of being justly despised, nor was I in a condition to think of the wrong I had done.

It was a long and wearisome night! Hy­men's torch was not to be lighted till day, and then I was to wed the most beautiful and lovely lady upon earth. Certain of her virtue, the goodness of her disposition, the purity of her mind, sure of being passiona­tely beloved. I again found that bliss which, for a moment, Agelia taught me to taste. Rosamond, less lively, less poignant than Agelia, had neither her caprices nor singu­larities, but the happiness I anticipated with her, promised to be more permanent and substantial, as I thought.

Aurora no sooner begun to send her [Page 62] beams into my chamber, than I, unable to restrain my impatience, rose and flew to Rosamond's apartment. I took a basket, garnished with flowers and precious stones, into which I put a billet, which I was desi­rous she should receive when she awaked; and I entered her chamber, without either being seen or heard; Rosamond was a­sleep; and, after having placed the basket at her feet, I hesitated a little, her beauties astonishing me.

The merest accident caused me to cast my eye on her table, just as I was about to re­tire; but what was my stupefaction, when I beheld, upon that table the Box, the Ta­lisman, which the Sovereign of the Genii had given me, that I myself should not be subjected to the charm of the Castle.

I supposed I had been mistaken by an ac­cidental resemblance; for searching in my pocket, I there found a box: I again re­covered my breath, took confidence, exa­mined carefully, and thought that that I found in my pocket was the true one. Tak­ing up the other, however, which lay on the table, for farther conviction, I could no lon­ger doubt my misfortune. I perfectly saw by comparing them together, that Rosa­mond's [Page 63] was the Talisman, and that which I had was a counterfeit.

Amazed and perplexed, I could form no probable conjecture concerning this adven­ture, but took the Talisman, put the coun­terfeit on the table, again snatched up my basket, in order to retire hastily, lest I should be suspected.

My vexation and passion I cannot describe. I knew not how or when Rosamond had pro­cured my Talisman, but it was evident there was treachery at the bottom. So then! cried I, all the power of magic is unable to cope with the perfidy of women; even here in this Castle, they fall upon schemes to im­pose on us.

Whenever Rosamond arose, I waited on her; I was in great agitation, which she soon perceived, and enquired the cause.

I have had some disagreeable thoughts, I replied, and somehow I dread that Zumio shares your affections.

You wrong me much indeed then.

I was transported at hearing this, and was restored almost to my former Paradise, when she said,

My constancy is unshaken; my virtue is real and not to be shaken; you are going [Page 64] to become my shusband, and I would prefer death to the infamy of betraying you, I made no promise to Zumio, commit no crime in renouncing him, and my pride is gratified by sacrificing my Love.

What say you, replied I, in astonishment.

Why are you so much surprised, said Rosamond? are you not convinced of my Love?

Do you think I should?

Indeed I must confess it is Zumio I love; but my virtue might easily triumph over that inclination, for I will see Zumio no more, but attach myself to you; gratitude and duty are all powerful over my heart; you are vain, I am virtuous, and I can easily make you believe I love you above all men.

I now found it impossible to keep within bounds; my passion overcame me, and Rosamond soon perceived I had found out the deception of the Talisman.

Alas! exclaimed she, now will Zumio have ample vengeance on his ambitious mis­tress and perfidious friend, and heaven is just. Yes, my Lord, ambition seduced my soul; informed of your passion by Zumio, I regretted the rank and power which such a marriage would confer on your consort; [Page 65] Zumio enraged, overwhelmed me with re­proaches, and irritated me; I commanded him to leave me; you soon after appeared, and unwilling you should know my thoughts, I determined to to be silent; scarce had you quitted me, ere I saw shining among the green herbs, the fatal Talisman, which in all likelihood, had fallen out of your pocket when you so passionately threw yourself at my feet; by a very singular chance, I hap­pened to possess a box of rock crystal, very like your Talisman, and at first I thought it was my own box: but examining fur­ther, I discovered the mystic characters which are engraved upon the lid, I then no longer doubted it was a Talisman. Zu­mio had told me the enchantment of the Castle had no effect on you; and I guessed that this box was the preservative which might, perhaps, guard you from the effects of this dangerous charm; I immediately ran to my chamber, sought for, and found my own box, and with a diamond's point, traced, and perfectly imitated the mysteri­ous cyphers. This operation over, Zumio came, and on him I first tried the virtue of your Talisman; I told him I did not love him, and found the box gave me the ca­pability [Page 66] of disguising my thoughts. Zumio left me in despair; I went to find and meet you. I had but one fear, which was, that you had discovered my theft, though scarce­ly two hours had passed since it had hap­pened; but soon found you had not. While you expressed your transports, I adroitly slipt my crystal box into your pocket, and kept yours. I knew the cheat must in time be discovered, if we remained here, but I flattered myself I should easily prevail on you quickly to quit this Castle. I had been tempted by opportunity, spurred on by am­bition, I had not leisure to weigh coolly the dangers of an undertaking at once so foolish and improper.

My Lord, you are now acquainted with every thing concerning this affair; and I sin­cerely regret having deceived you; I re­proach myself more for having sacrificed Zu­mio; but I have discovered no malice, have not debased myself; and though deprived of the Talisman, and obliged to speak truth, I still can say I love virtue; and that I never should have violated its sacred duties, had I become your wife, in consequence of my plan.

I was now compelled to love Rosamond [Page 67] with all her ambition; penetrated with re­gret, overwhelmed with despair, and more in love than ever, I cast myself at her feet. Oh, Rosamond! cried I, it is impossible for me to vanquish the passion you cannot par­ticipate; I am not beloved; but deign, at least, to give me the right ever to love you; deign still to reign in this Castle; let Hy­men for ever unite your destiny to mine. Come, I am ready to attend you to the Al­tar.

I am neither bold, my Lord, nor mean; had I married you, I doubt not you should have been happy; but now when even that hope is fled, I never will be yours.

This uncommon delicacy delighted me, and I vainly essayed to vanquish it; she persisted in her refusal; I again saw Zumio; told him all that had passed. She took the resolution, the same day, to quit the Castle of Truth, and Zumio declared he was de­termined to follow her. I flatter myself, ad­ded he, that when we have left this accurs­ed Castle, Rosamond may persuade me she has only been guilty of a slight wrong to­wards me, the remembrance of which I ought to lose. Farewell, my Lord, and as I [Page 68] engage I never shall again enter these walls, if you abide here; farewell, for ever.

And will you, Zumio, abandon me?

As Rosamond loves you not, I no longer hate you; but my resentment against you is still strong; were I able to conceal it, as I have still much attachment for you in my heart, and likewise much compassion, I might be capable to console you, and ex­cite your gratitude and admiration, by sa­crificing a woman, who, it must be owned, would have sacrificed me; but you rend my heart, I can disguise nothing; it is not pos­sible to shew myself more generous, or less vindictive than I really am; besides, should I hereafter repent the having made such a sa­crifice, you would instantly know it, and I should lose its fruits; therefore, adieu, my Lord; and if you wish to preserve friends, follow my counsel, and take another dwel­ling.

To add to my grief, Zumio left me and followed Rosamond; thus, in one unhap­py day, my friend and mistress forsook me.

The Philosopher remained; prompted by his curiosity, he continued in a place, which furnished a Philosopher with many subjects for reflection. Touched to see my profound [Page 69] grief, he pressed me to abandon my Castle. No, Gelanor, said I, no; here will I stay till I have found an amiable woman of vir­tue and sensibility who may yet make a­mends for all the calamities my unhappy love has produced.

As I was walking one day through a bow­er of myrtles and orange trees, Gelanor came to seek me. Here are two guests, said he, a man and a woman of a delightful form, who have unthinkingly entered the Castle, and are exceedingly afflicted to learn they are obliged to remain here three months; they are consulting together, and I believe, mean to ask your permission to be married here; but, in all likelihood, a quarter of an hour's conversation will rob them of that wish, for no more time is re­quisite here to make a breach between the happiest of lovers.

While Gelanor was thus speaking, the youth approached: I advised him, enquiring if he yet continued firmly resolved to marry his mistress?

I am indeed, my Lord, said he, and as my resolution is not occasioned by Love, there is the less fear of a relapse.

And are you not in love?

[Page 70]I am not; formerly I loved this lady per­sonally, as she did me, but an extraordinary accident tore my mistress from me, only to persecute her; this I knew, but knew not in­to what part of the world she was carried. Love obliged me to go in search of her; and I left my country, vowing never to return till I had found her whom I adored. My tra­vels lasted three years; Love followed, or ra­ther guided my path, for the first year; but the way at length became too wearisome for him, and he left me; I however, did with­out him, and continued my route; but I soon travelled slower, and stopped oftener, till my fidelity vanished, for I stopped too long.

But friendship and honour made me again recollect my engagements; I continued my travels, and found the woman I had so pas­sionately loved, but who now was no more than a dear and interesting friend. She was deeply affected by all I had done for her; in­capable of deceiving me, she confessed she no longer had the power of participating that love she supposed we inspired; for that du­ring so long an absence, another object had touched her heart. At present, added she, I am free, and I am never more liable to the [Page 71] seductions of love; let sincerity, Oh Nadir! be thought the best proof of my gratitude; and if, after this confession, you love me still, to you I am ready to devote my life; you have lost an ardent lover, and in her room have got a steady friend and constant and affectionate wife.

Her honesty delighted me, and in return I ceased to dissemble; I opened my heart to this generous, amiable friend, pressed her to unite her destiny to mine, and obtained the promise of her hand, when we got home again.

In about a month after our departure, we approached the loved land that gave us birth, when happening to see this magnificent Cas­tle, curiosity invited us to enter; but since we are obliged to pass three months here, let me conjure you, my Lord, to allow us to defer our union no longer.

If your mistress agrees, I said, I had no objection.

Be pleased to ask her, my Lord, she comes.

I looked about, and beheld her coming— I trembled; my heart beat violently, I start­ed to meet her—Heavens! cried I, it is A­gelia—I was not deceived, it was she [Page 72] herself; surprise, confusion, feelings un­accountable, mixed with grief, vexation and joy; emotions all violent and diverse, rendered me unmoveable. Agelia was silent for a moment, then laughed aloud, and so, my Lord, said she, you are incorrigible— For I now know the virtue of your Castle— And has all my admonitions and advices pro­duced this effect?

Her raillery I could not bear, the rather as she spoke most chearfully and without concern; distracted, despairing, I made no reply, but precipitately retired, to con­ceal feelings which it was impossible to dis­semble. I never, hitherto, had really lov­ed any but Agelia; and this passion, which was so true and strong, was instantly re­kindled; I saw her again, found her more amiable, more charming than ever; her manners were so natural, and her mind so candid, that even in the Castle of Truth her accomplishments shone with undiminished lustre.

Love no longer influenced Nadir; Agelia felt only friendship for him; hope again se­duced me; I spoke to, conjured Agelia to prefer me to the indifferent Nadir: remem­ber, said I, that I love you to excess, while he does not.

[Page 73]Love, my Lord, said Agelia, evapo­rates, but the remembrance of generous ac­tions remains, and this it is which makes at­tachments durable. I might forget the love of Nadir, but never that he has travelled almost through the world for these three years, in hopes of serving me.

Alas! replied I, and must I see you in the possession of Nadir, and be driven to ex­tremity?

Such extremity is the whim of an hour. Can you seriously ask me to sacrifice so faith­ful, so generous a friend?—You who had not the trifling merit (trifling, because it is involuntary) to regret for any reasonable space of time, the mistress whom you had lost by your own fault; the inhabitants of this Castle are not remarkable for their ta­citurnity; I have questioned them, and, you may well suppose, know the Anecdotes of Arpalisa and Rosamond: speak not then to me of a passion I no longer feel. Open your eyes, my lord? you are born virtuous and amiable; but while you preserve this injurious suspicion and imprudent curiosity, which characterise you at present, you nei­ther can know repose nor happiness. Think what this fatal infatuation of wishing to pe­netrate [Page 74] the secret foldings of the heart you love has already cost you: without men­tioning myself; remember Rosamond, who was charming, sincere, virtuous, sensible of benefits, capable of gratitude, and, in any other place but this, of making you per­fectly happy. Remember the amiable little Zumio, who so sincerly loved you, and whom you drove from you. Oh cease, my Lord, to wish to destroy necessary illusions; abandon this fatal Castle, or for ever re­nounce friendship, love, society, and, in fact, all those connections and enjoyments which render life comfortable.

What she said, struck me the more, be­cause Agelia, with firmly not to be shaken, persisted in her resolution to wed Nadir. Unable to support the cruel sight, I came at length to a determination; and wishing, at least to gain the esteem of Agelia, heaped be­nefits on Nadir; left the Castle, engaging myself never to enter these gates if impelled by jealousy or suspicion.

I think, replied Agelia, your engage­ment would be more to the purpose, were you never to come here again on any ac­count whatever.

It is not in my power to engage for that, [Page 75] answered I, but to prove to you I do not intend to come often, or stay long, I here give you, dearest Agelia, the Talisman, which the ambitious Rosamond once pur­loined; this box, as you know; is a cer­tain preservative against the enchantment of the Castle; you are obliged to stay here three months, and in that time it may be of some service to you. Farewell for ever.

If you allow me to give it to Nadir, re­plied Agelia, I will accept it; deceit is al­ways painful, but to be deceived is often the greatest of pleasures. If he should dive into my thoughts; so therefore allow me to put your Talisman into his hands.

The Talisman is yours, do with it what you think proper, to your happiness I sacri­fice it; but now, obliged as I am to speak what I think, deign, for the last time, to hear a faithful avowal of the passion you in­spire. Never, Agelia, have I loved any as I have loved you; never shall I forget you. Adieu! pity the unhappy Phanor; for your compassion and regard is the only mitigations my grief permits.

While I thus spoke, I observed the tears of the lovely feeling Agelia begin to flow; too much affected to reply, she gave me her [Page 76] hand, which I bathed with my tears.—At length I tore myself from her, quitted her for ever, left the Castle of Truth, and I have never since returned to it.

Phanor having thus finished his story, thus addressed Altemira.—This is the secret I have had the fortitude, for sixteen years, to conceal. Never, dear Altemira, have I doubted your virtue or affection: the Ca­stle of Truth cannot add to the esteem I have for you; it might enfeeble, or at least disturb, for a moment, that sincere attachment by which we are at present united; and, if you take my advice you will never attempt a journey of such risque.

My dear Phanor, replied Altemira, I am anxious to have an opportunity of repeating, in the Castle of Truth, that I never loved any but Phanor.

Such a declaration was in in some degree agreeable to the Genius, especially that the Queen was so firmly resolved, since it prov­ed so well her virtue; he only required she should seriously reflect for six months; and if, said he, you are then of that mind, we will immediately prosecute the journey.

[Page 77]The time being elapsed, Altemira was anxious to depart, and take with her her daughter, and Prince Philamir, who was to espouse Zeolide. My daughter, said she, is certain of the heart of Philamir; but she desires he should read hers likewise, and, ere he receives her hand be assured of her faith. The Prince knows the effects of the Castle, yet ardently wishes to go with us; Zeolide wishes to take her dear and amia­ble friend, Palmis, so beloved by her and us, and whom I propose acquainting what is the charm of the Castle this evening.

I have a plan also, replied Phanor, to take thither three or four Courtiers, whom I should not be sorry to know, and whom I shall not inform of the secret of the much to be dreaded place whither they are going; for were I so to do, I imagine they would find some pretext to be excused taking such a journey: on which account, Philamir and Zeolide, must be enjoined in secrecy.

Altemira and Zeolide, that night, con­fided the secret to their friend, and Palmis at first shewed more surprize than eagerness to take this journey. However, after some reflection, Palmis said, I have nothing es­sential [Page 78] to reproach myself of; my attach­ment to you is genuine, not feigned, I there­fore wish to attend you.

Palmis acknowledged at same time she loved a young Courtier, named Chrisel, whose natural levity she feared. Chrisel was a man of fashion, and such a quality does not inspire love with confidence. Palmis wished her lover might go with them, to which Phanor consented.

The hour of departure arrived, Altemira, Zeolide, Philamir, and Palmis, were the only persons who knew the secret of the Castle of Truth; and, in proportion as they approached it, their gaiety decreased; me­lancholy and inquietude invaded their hearts; Zeolide was the most tranquil, but Philamir became thoughtful and absent; the gloom of Palmis was visible, and the Queen was alarmed at remarking the trouble of Phanor. The Courtiers, who knew not the cause, vainly endeavoured to enliven the lost gaiety of the Genius: the Queen and Zeolide, the Lover of Palmis, the amiable and brilliant Chrisel, never discovered more grace or greater desire to please; and when conver­sing with Palmis in secret, he painted his [Page 79] passion with so much feeling and heat, that her suspicions vexed her.

One of these Courtiers who attended Phanor, was a man of an odd character, seldom met with in Courts. Aristeus (so he was called) had done the State great service, arrived at the highest honours by merit a­lone; he did not come to court till his youth was past, and he brought thither a blunt­ness and moroseness in his manner, that gave him an air of originality, which had the greatest effect, because it formed so strong a contrast to the manners usually seen in such places. A rigid and satiric Courtier is not very likely to become a favourite; but his success for that very reason was at first as great as his singularity amusing; but finding afterwards his understanding equal­led his ill-humour, they endeavoured too late to get him driven out; so he was set­tled at Court, as both Altemira and Phanor valued him.

But what is most remarkable when esta­blished there, he did not alter his behaviour; for he not only forbore false panegyric, but he was never even heard to praise; and though very capable of zealously serving his friends, he never said an agreeable or plea­sant [Page 80] thing, nor was a friendly offer known to escape him.

The Castle of Truth was now at hand, and Phanor had a private conversation with the Queen. I confess to you, said he, I cannot enter this Castle, which has been so fatal to me, without chagrin, nor can I dis­semble. I stand greatly in need of your in­dulgence, What husband, who has been married seventeen years, can say he never has been chargeable with a fault—Too minute investigation will rather vex you.

I shall ask you no questions then, my Lord, replied the Queen in a pet.

Nor will I you, said Phanor.

I am under no apprehensions from yours, my Lord, therefore do not fear to meet them.

I candidly confess to you, that as the most scruplous candour will be necessary I have some dread, replied Phanor.

Acknowledge then, said Altemira, you at present deeply regret you sacrificed your precious Talisman, which gave you the hap­py power to conceal your thoughts in the Castle of Truth from Agelia, that beautiful fair one.

The Genius gave no answer but a sigh; [Page 81] and the Queen gave place to a fit of melan­choly.

The shining walls of the Castle now ap­peared, more than one heart was agitated, but they felt too late all the consequences of so dangerous a voyage. They descend, pro­ceed, and enter the fatal gates.

On entering the Castle, the first object that caught the attention of the Genius was the venerable Gelanor, the virtuous Philo­sopher, whom he had left above eighteen years before in the Castle of Truth. Phanor hastily left the Queen, glad of a pretext to be at some distance from her; and ran to salute Gelanor, with whom he retired into the Gardens.

My Lord, said the Philosopher, who is this you have brought with you?

A wife I have married.

A wife! Strange! Did you reflect well?

Her virtue is undoubted.

Many husbands, my Lord, within these nineteen years, have I known enter this Cas­tle with the same security, and leave it con­vinced of their mistake.

Such doubts distress not me; Altemira knows the effects of this Castle, yet would come hither. I have little uneasiness con­cerning what I may know of her, but much [Page 82] for what she may learn of me. —But tell me, venerable Sage, satisfy my curiosity.— Time has not yet effaced Agelia from my memory; and every thing here recalls her rememerance—Did she marry Nadir, when I left you?

She did, my Lord, and that very hour, gave him the Talisman she had of you. Na­dir, touched by so delicate and generous a procedure, determined never to question her, and thus they passed three months in the most perfect understanding.—My Lord, take a lesson from them.

If the Queen inclines, I agree.

As Gelanor and the Genius were thus conversing, Zeolide was walking with the Queen, and the rest of the newly arrived travellers. The young Princess and Phila­mir were a little before. After a moment's silence, Philamir said, Ever since I have been in this place, I have found an insurmount­able embarrssment. I dare not speak my thoughts; I tremble lest what I say here should not seem sufficiently warm.

So then heretofore you flattered.

Perhaps I did.

Base man! half my feelings were not ex­pressed.

[Page 83]What an enchanting speech! adorable Zeolide?

But, say, did you ever love me?

You alone I have loved: on you depends my happiness.

Enough, enough, replied the Princess. —Yes, dear Philamir, we will prove, that even this Castle cannot be fatal to true Lovers; and that far from destroying it in­creases affection, by dissipating all the doubts which is too often felt by a lively passion.

While she thus spoke, Altemira and Palm­is came up; Philamir left them, and the princesses separated themselves from the groupe of Courtiers that followed them in the gardens; and Philamir and Chrisel went into a thicket, at the entrance of which they saw a young woman sitting on a bank. She was handsome, and Chrisel would go and speak to her. The Prince soon found she was but just arrived, and that she no more than Chrisel knew how impossible it was to conceal her thoughts. He enquired her name; Asema, she replied.

Your manner is whimsical and flirting, which is agreeable enough, said Chrisel, thinking he had praised her extravagantly, and astonished to see with what an air of sur­prize [Page 84] and disdain she received his compli­ment.—And so, said he, you are a wo­man, and is not flattery agreeable.

Is that your flattery: you think me ug­ly, perhaps?

Ugly! I just now said you are the most delightful creature I ever saw.

You are fantasticle indeed, Sir, but it matters not; for, I value Simple Honesty.

You have a deal of penetration indeed, Sir,

I am sure at least you have plenty of sin­cerity.

Lord, Sir, sincerity, I never speak truth; it is all an air I assume to impose upon you.

Chrisel could not stifle a laugh, and Ase­ma turning towards Philamir, said, Why are you so very silent, my Lord?

Why do you ask?

As I would wish to make a conquest of you.

I cannot say I ever met a lady so singular.

And you delight me exceedingly; I dare say you have strong passions, and are easily imposed on.

I have been in love.

Very childishly I doubt not. Are you deeply smitten?

[Page 85]Deeply, and on my success my happiness depends.

No doubt—and it makes me happy.

Why so?

I like vastly to set lovers at variance. Is your mistress here?

Yes.

I'll seek her out, and if she is handsome enough to pique my vanity, will render you faithless. I shall walk this evening in the O­range-Grove; and I tell you so expressly, that you may come and meet me there. So saying, she rose, and Philamir going to de­tain her, said, Do not you see by my air of affectation, I want to make you believe I think you a dangerous man, and consequent­ly shun you?

She then very modestly retired.

This lady, said Chrisel, is really the most extraordinary and odd kind of person I ever met. Women are all coquettes and deceit­ful, but she is the only one I have ever seen who was indiscreet enough to own it; her wish to seduce, and her excessive impru­dence, make her truly whimsical and ori­ginal. Were I in your place, my Lord, I would not neglect to meet her.

Is that your real opinion?

[Page 86]Certainly—would you be so scrupulous because you are in love with Zeolide?— Childish-folly!

What, replied Philamir, would it be prac­tical to turn the brain of such a coquetish girl as her?

I doubt not, if you manage prudently.

I have no such plan—Yet I have a wish to attend the appointment.

The sudden appearance of Palmis inter­rupted the conversation; she had not yet an opportunity of speaking alone with Chrisel, therefore, as soon as she saw him she ap­proached, and the Prince left them together. Palmis was agitated; she dreaded to ques­tion her lover; and Chrisel, thinking about something else, did not remark her perplex­ity. At last Palmis, fetching a deep sigh, said, Why are you silent, Chrisel? Are you thinking of me?

No sooner did he hear the question, than assuming the most passionate manner possible, and tenderly kissing the hand of Palmis, Chrisel replied, Oh! no, I never think or trouble myself about you, I protest I do not.

How! Faithless man, cried Palmis.

Do you doubt my truth? Ah, Palmis, how unjust you are. Yes, said he, falling [Page 87] on his knees, it has been my study to deceive you. Ambition and vanity alone have at­tached me to you. Do justice, Palmis, to your Lover, for he is incapable of affection; be comforted, be secure, and let these sin­cere protestations drive all doubts from your mind.—But why is anger so visible in your looks?—How have I offended you? And wherefore to-day will you not believe me? —Do you wish me to swear?—Oaths cost me nothing.

Wretch, cried Palmis, I can listen no longer.

Tears impeded speech, and overwhelmed with excessive grief, she sunk on a garden-seat; Chrisel still kneeling, feigned to weep. Do not you see, said he, how I pretend to shed tears: really, beauteous Palmis, you quite weary me, and though you are natural­ly as unreasonable as insipid, I never before saw you so intolerably tiresome.

Begone, said Palmis, repelling Chrisel with indignation, you give me horror.

There is, certainly, said Chrisel, some­thing I cannot understand in all this: per­haps, said he, with an air of freedom, you wish to break with me; if so, speak; there is no necessity for all these tears, this tragic [Page 88] tone; let us remain friends at least; and this I wish because your credit and favour may yet be useful to make my fortune.

Palmis made no other answer, than by ris­ing with impetuosity; and as she flew from him, darted a look of contemptuous rage at Chrisel.

The Courtier stood confounded, and as he reflected on this strange adventure, heard a tumult of voices. He walked towards the noise, and entered into a verdant Amphithe­atre full of passengers newly arrived, to the number of about thirty, sitting on the grass-banks, and forming a circle round Gelanor. Chrisel, as he entered, asked why they were all assembled;

My Lord, said Gelanor, for these nine­teen years I have done the honours of this Castle; have neglected nothing to make it agreeable to strangers, and have only re­quired one thing in return, which is, to fol­low me to this place, and answer a single question which I put to each person.

And what question is that, pray?

I only desire to know if they are happy.

Well, and have you found many people satisfied with their condition?

[Page 89]Their names are all written in a book, and I am still at the first page; but alas! we ought not to wonder at this, since virtue and reason alone can give happiness.

Have you begun your Catechism of to­day?

Yes; I have questioned nearly half this assembly. Will you, Sir, be kind enough to answer me?

Oh, willing. I have been very successful at Court, made a great fortune, ruined half a score women, who all before they knew me had excellent reputations; and yet I am not happy, am weary of myself, enjoy no­thing, but wish for what I do not possess, with an ardour that consumes me.

Let us pass on to another, said Gelanor. What say you, grave stranger? addressing himself to a little olive-coloured man with a disdainful air.

I am called a Philosopher, said the stran­ger, in an imperious and dogmatic tone.

Then, comrade, answered Gelanor, smil­ing, you are happy.

I happy! no indeed.

And what prevents you?

Pride. I associate myself with some others like myself, and among us we have formed [Page 90] a vast and hardy project. We wished to reign and domineer over the minds of men; and we had a celebrated Magician for a Chief, who gave us a Talisman, on which were engraven these three words, Benevolence Tolerance, Philosophy. My friend, said the Magician, the virtue of these three words is such, that to obtain your end, you have only incessantly to repeat them, and rest faithfully attached and submissive to your chief. With this Talisman and my protec­tion, you will want neither knowledge nor genius; you may daringly say, and write all the extravagancies which shall enter your imagination, you shall have an exclusive au­thority to reason wrong; be inconsistent, trouble established order, overturn moral principles and corrupt manners, without losing your consequence; if you are attack­ed make no reply, beware of discussion. I permit insults only, and declamations void of meaning, but no reasoning; keep con­stantly repeating the same thing, Benevo­lence, Tolerance Philosophy. Should it be proved you are neither benevolent, tole­rant, nor a Philosopher, be not frightened, only repeat and cry with more force and ob­stinacy than ever, these three sacred and [Page 91] magic words, Benevolence, Tolerance, Philo­sophy, and you shall triumph over all your enemies, at least as long as I shall live. So spoke this great enchanter, and his promises had their full effect; but▪ alas! we have had the misfortune to lose a chief so worthy of our regret; and since his death, the Ta­lisman has lost its virtue, and our empire is no more. Usurpers as we are, our parti­sans are vanquished, we can excite no more confusions and are now forgotten.

This speech the assumed Philosopher con­cluded with a sigh.

Zoram, one of Phanor's Courtiers, join­ed the company: hold, cried Chrisel, ad­dressing himself to Gelanor, if you want to find a happy▪ man interrogate this, whose mirth is so great it approaches folly, amusing himself with every thing, enthusiastic, and whimsical—Is it not so?

Such are my pretensions, he replied.

Pretensions! Are you not distractedly fond of hunting, painting, music,—

I am fatigued with hunting; the best mu­sic in the world to me is only noise, and I have no taste for painting; but I keep hounds, hire musicians, and buy pictures; [Page 92] that is, I ruin myself, to make the world sup­pose I am entertained and pleased.

But come, no joaking, say seriously.

This satisfies me, replied Gelanor; and now let me question this Lady, who is sitting in the midst of that agreeable group of children and young Ladies. You are the mother of a family, madam, said Gelanor.

My children are these around.

And are you happy?

Say, my children, the question is for you.

When she had spoken, her two eldest daughters, with tears of joy in their eyes, ran to her arms with the most tender ex­expressions of gratitude; and crying, with all our hearts we love her.

And have I this day beheld a happy per­son;—Say Madam, your name?

Eudemonia.

Pray favour me with answers to a few questions. How long have you enjoyed the pure and affecting happiness, of which you now present so enchanting a picture?

Since I have been a mother.

How do you live?

Very retired; my children occupy my at­tention one half of the day; friendship and study the other.

[Page 93]Are your friends numerous?

They are not; but they are faithful.

Are you possessed of great riches?

I am not; nor ever shall.

Why?

I have no taste for pomp; and know no other use for money, but to distribute.

Are you very ambitious?

No, indeed; not even for my children; for reason and experience have taught me, honours and wealth are not the source of happiness.

The Philosopher took his book from his pocket, and with inexpressible joy in his countenance, inscribed Eudemonia's name.

Zoram and Chrisel quitted the garden, and went towards the Castle; the little Court of the Genius assembled in the Saloon; Aris­teus the satiric and surly Courtier, already mentioned was speaking to the Queen, who was surprised to find that he had lost so much of his moroseness; that his manners were more mild, and that he could say obliging things. Zoram and Chrisel entered the Saloon; the Princess was going to her music, and turning her harp, Philamir sat be­side her, and the sorrowful unhappy Palmis leaned languishingly against a pillar, thought [Page 94] of the perfidious Chrisel, and was mournful­ly silent. Chrisel approached Phanor, who was thoughtfully walking. Being desir­ous of saying something civil of the Queen, he followed the Genius, and as soon as he was near enough Altemira to be heard, stop­ped, and with a look of great complaisance, addressing himself to the Genius, said, how much the Queen shews her age to-day; it is not possible to think that she is less than thirty-eight at least.

The Queen, though still beautiful, was no longer vain of her person, but smiled. You flatter sometimes Chrisel.

That was my inclination at present, ma­dam.

Does my dress please you?

I dislike it much; it does not suit your age.

Then with a most obliging and gentle tone and manner, Chrisel, quite satisfied with himself, and with what he had said, made his obeisance and returned to the Genius.

Zoram went up to Palmis, and, desirous of awakening her from her reverie, by incit­ing agreeable ideas in her mind, said, Good God! madam, your eyes are sunk in your head, and how red your nose is; you do not [Page 95] look handsome to-day at all. Nay, do not affect that disdainful air, nor think what I say is flattery to deceive; believe me, it is the truth.

Zeolide was sitting, and preluding on her instrument; Zoram, in order to maintain his reputation for a connoisseur passionately fond of music, hastily approached, with every de­monstration of gladness. The Princess sang, and accompanied herself; Zoram listened, and beat out of time, clapping as if he had been mad. Before the air was half over, he exclaimed, still continuing his hand applause, How wearisome, and tiresome it is!

The Princess was a little disconcerted and stopped; I am quite delighted, madam, said he to see you the dupe of these affected trans­ports; it was to act transport, that I made this bustle.

The rest of the courtiers were astonished to hear him, and absolutely supposed poor Zoram was mad. Chrisel, who was particu­larly intimate with him, wishing to appear af­flicted for his misfortune, put on an air of tender amazement, and exclaimed, Poor Zoram how happy I am to see him thus! I shall gain by it; I will this very evening so­licit Phanor for his place.

[Page 96]And so, taking Zoram by the arm, he left the Saloon, dragging him away.

The Princess then asked her lover, laugh­ing, if he, like Zoram, thought the air she had been playing, insipid?

I was not attending, replied Philamir, something else took up my thoughts.

Zeolide blushed with vexation, and Ariste­us said, I, madam, have not lost a bar of it, and I think the air a very good one, and I am in raptures with your voice.

Is it possible, Aristeus, interrupted the Genius, what are you becoming a gallant flatterer?

That I do not propose, he replied, but I am neither so frigid nor unfeeling as I appear; I am somewhat cross and wish to be thought singular, for which reason I pass my life in snarling and finding fault, entirely from a spirit of contradiction; besides, I have made it a law with myself, never openly to praise nor flatter, but on important matters, and not directly.

How now;—I conceive your meaning; Pray, did you never flatter me?

I possess your esteem, because you believe I have not; yet love me, because I really have; you believe, simply enough, that a [Page 97] man with a gruff tone and blunt manners, cannot flatter; you are suspicious of other Courtiers, but in full security with me; but flattery can take various forms, nor is there more than one way to escape its seductions, and that is to be insensible to them. You love flattery, and I give it you; I naturally hate it, and had you despised it, I should ne­ver have had this meanness to reproach my­self with; but thus only could I obtain your confidence; if I deceive sometimes, you force me to it; and had not you corrupted me, I never should have used artifice; I feel how much I am debased, remember it, am enra­ged at you, and regard you not, although your servant.

Get out of my sight, insolent! cried Pha­nor, with his eyes inflamed with fury, let me never behold you again.

Zeolide was sadly affrighted at these words, she hastily rose, and followed by Palmis, went into the gardens. Alas! said Zeolide, I begin to find how fatal this Castle is; this un­fortunate Aristeus, who has done the State so many services, is disgraced and ruined▪ —And have I any reason to be better sa­tisfied? How did Philamir answer me? It was for him I sang, yet he deigned not to lis­ten. [Page 98] What then did he think of? Ah! had I only enquired—I say no more.— Oh, Palmis, judge what I feel.

I see nothing you have to complain of, re­plied Palmis, coldly.

What! the indifference, the cruel disdain of Philamir.

You are ridiculously suceptible.

This is a strange expression.

Alas! I have not the power to chuse.— Pardon me, madam.

You are not affected by my grief; I see you do not love me—Ah! no doubt, it is impossible for persons of my rank to be beloved for themselves. How unhappy am I!

The Princess could not retain her tears as she spoke.—You are unjust, replied Palm­is; do not calumniate human nature thus; if a Prince wishes to know whether the prai­ses given him are sincere, and whether he be really beloved, let him ask his own heart; let him judge himself; if he disdains flattery, and is capable of friendship, he may be cer­tain he has tender and faithful friends.

Well, Palmis, I detest flattery, and love you.

And I, madam, have no friend in the world so dear to me as you are.

[Page 99]Zeolide answered Palmis by kissing her with transport. Be certain, henceforth, ad­ded Palmis, your rank cannot injure the sen­timents you are born to inspire. In our se­cret conversations, your friendship and con­fidence establishes a perfect equality between us; you are amiable, and have a feeling heart; I daily receive new benefits from you, and inclination and gratitude are the sa­cred ties by which we are for ever united.

Oh, my dear Palmis, cried Zeolide, how happy do you make me?

You cannot now doubt of my attachment, replied Palmis, and yet I fear this Castle; remember, madam, that without condescen­sion, without those delicacies and attentions which come from the heart, friendship could not subsist.

Zeolide assured Palmis, that nothing here­after could ever deprive her of friendship and love.

While the two friends were thus conver­sing, Philamir did not forget, that the coquette Azema had given him a rendezvous in the Orange-grove; and it seemed so curious and amazing to read the heart of a woman of that character, that he had not the forti­tude to resist the opportunity; besides, I am [Page 100] certain, said he, Azema cannot seduce me; Zeolide will know nothing of the affair, and consequently will ask no questions. The lat­ter reflection determined the Prince, and he immediately went towards the grove. Here he found Azema negligently extended on the grass, and in such a manner, as to leave a pretty foot, and the half of a pretty leg exposed. Her eyes were down-cast; she seemed lost in a profound reverie, and did not appear to perceive the Prince, who gent­ly approached.

Whenever the prince came up to her, Aze­ma affected surprize, and got up—Have I frightened you, said Philamir?

I wish to assume an air of modesty and surprize, I have been waiting for you above an hour, in the same attitude in which you sound me; and I flatter myself, added she, with down-cast eyes as if she was taken by surpize, my leg and foot were noticed.

The Prince smiling, said he had never seen any thing more charming, and Azema hid her face with her fan.—What is your rea­son for that, said Philamir?

I wish you to suppose I am blushing.

Pray what think you of me, said Phila­mir?

[Page 101]I am pleased with you, and wish to capti­vate you.

I wish I had not been pre-engaged.

If so; what then?

Why this would be a critical minute.

Critical! say you, that is pretty.

I have a feeling heart; I doubt I'd be in love.

My imagination is warm, which will suit you—I know I'll captivate you.

I am rather doubtful, you are so confi­dent.

I shall now let you see my arm, and for that purpose I will take off my glove, pre­tending to be warm.

The Prince when seeing one of her hands, replied, how elegantly turned and white.

I shall now pretend to be offended with the liberty you have taken, and pout, as you see; after which I will turn very sentiment­al.

She then drew away her hand with dig­nity, and turned her back on Philamir.— Will you be long in a pet, said he?

Just to draw your attention to my fine shape and flowing inglets.

Entertained with her schemes, Philamir exclaimed, what flowing hair!

[Page 102]Philamir in fact observed she really had fine hair, an elegant shape, and one of the prettiest faces in the world. After a mo­ment's silence, Azema said to him, if you had common sense, this is the instant in which you would fall at my knees, at which I should then appear agitated.

The Prince could not withstand the curi­osity he had, to know how Azema would act tenderly, and accordingly did as she describ­ed.—So! so! cried she, and are you con­quered!

Say, charming girl, what you now think?

I am enraptured—The Princess I have seen and hate.—Oh! what will her vexa­tion be, when she shall know I have robbed her of her Lover, for know it she shall? and soon I will tell her of it myself, for it will de­light me to see her despair.—She is so beautiful, and so good, that they speak of nothing here but of her bounty, charms, and virtue; but I will defame her; I will —if in my power her reputation shall suffer.

While she said this she was struck with the indignation she saw painted in the coun­tenance of Philamir. What, Prince, said she, do you suspect me of affectation? Think you there is any exaggeration in the ani­mated [Page 103] sentiments I wish to impress you with?

It were to be wished, said the Prince, rising, that all the monsters of your species were obliged to speak with the same sinceri­ty, that they might only have the influence to occasion dislike and detestation.

Saying this, he immediately withdrew, reflecting as he went on this adventure. In­to what snares, said he, might curiosity alone lead a person of my age, from a wish to see how far such a woman could go. I found myself kneeling to her; I despised her, was not her dupe, yet she amused me; appear­ed charming; and had she not discovered a soul so base and vile, Zeolide would for an instant have been out of mind.

With these reflections, Philamir returned with melancholy steps towards the Castle, when Gelanor came from a Grove, and said, Come hither, my Lord; come, and if pos­sible, stop Zoram and Chrisel from murder­ing one another.

What is it you say?

In passing two hours ago, across the gar­den, they mutually accused each other with madness; but meeting with a guest, who informed them of the virtues of the Castle, [Page 104] they were terrified to think what they had said to the Genius and the Queen, and went privately to concert what measures were best to take. From this conversation they learn, that they really had no friendship for each o­ther; each questioned, was forced to confess they had committed reciprocal wrongs for­merly and recently, till they resolved to fight, and are at present within a few yards of us.

Shew me where they are, said the Prince, I will attempt to reconcile them.

My Lord, replied Gelanor, you know not how difficult it is to effect an agreement in the Castle.

The moment the combatants were begin­ning the attack, Philamir joined them. For­get past grievances—be reconciled.

Chrisel instantly ran towards Zoram with a good grace, who met him with open arms. Zoram said, with a smiling countenance, I here vow everlasting malice.

Chrisel immediately rejoined, So do I.

How! exclaimed the Prince?

Notice his baseness, cried Zoram; yet I have the same thoughts.

Keep silence, and be quiet, I entreat you, cried Philamir; were it in my power, my Lord, answered Chrisel, to deceive, I would [Page 105] trick the traitor; but we are forced to speak what we think, and cannot conceal our mu­tual resentment. I see it is useless to strive a­gainst the invincible virtue of this Castle, for I am obliged to speak truth. I, who have carried the profound art of dissimulation so far, the fruits of ten years labour are now gone.

The first attack was yours Chrisel, said Philamir; endeavour therefore to say a sin­gle word in excuse to Zoram, who I am sure will be moderate and easily satisfied.

If I should attempt it, said Chrisel, I will only widen the breach.

Fight we must, said Zoram, honour would have it so; deign therefore, my Lord, to be a witness of the combat. I flatter myself, that at the very first wound, however slight it may be, you will run to part us. So say­ing, they again drew their swords, and the combat began. [...] a few minutes Chri­sel was touched in the hand. Stop, said Phi­lamir, it is sufficient.

With all my heart, replied Chrisel; how­ever, my Lord, be explicit if you think it necessary. I am ready to go on. I am very much attached to life, but it is not so valua­ble as honour.

[Page 106]These are also my sentiments, said Zoram.

Part then peaceably, said Philamir, ho­hour is satisfied.

Upon this they went away, and Philamir returned towards the Castle.

Phanor and Altemira had just likewise had a most disagreeable conversation. Altemira, notwithstanding her promises could not for­bear to question Phanor; and his answers had so surprised and angered her, that the Monarch and Queen almost came to an open rupture, they were not on speaking terms, but in a very bad humour.

The Princess seemed so reserved and dis­tant that Philamir feared she had heard of his adventure in the Orange-Grove. The supper was far from cheerful; the unfortu­nate Aristeus durst not make his appearance, and Zoram and Chrisel shewed not the least eagerness to make their court. Palmis, o­verwhelmed with grief, was sorrowful and si­lent; the Queen and the Genius were plun­ged in a profound reverie; and Philamir, de­voured by inquietude, trembled as he spoke to the Princess, who would scarcely give him an answer.

The day following, the Prince who had passed the night in reflecting on his situation, [Page 107] determined to demand an explanation from the Princess. He went therefore in search of her, and as soon as he found himself a­lone with her and Palmis, he threw himself at her feet, and said, Oh! pardon me Zeo­lide; I see you know every thing. I will therefore make a full confession.

What do I know, said the Princess?

The adventure I have had with Azema.

I never heard of it, but must now have the particulars.

The Prince now sincerely repented his in­discretion, but could not retract; he was o­bliged to satisfy the jealous curiosity of the Princess; was forced to own that Azema might for a moment have misled him had not her base heart appeared.

So then, said the Princess, had you not been in this Castle, and could this woman have concealed the atrocity of her mind, and the corruptness of her morals, she might have seduced you.

Forget, cried the Prince, this momentary crime; my repentance is most sincere; you I love, and you only.

She haughtily answered, and I renounce you for ever, unworthy man.

[Page 108]With these words she run to her chamber where she shut herself up with Palmis.

The Princess upon this gave free vent to her tears, and a thousand times repeated Philamir was an ungrateful faithless man, who she would never see more. Palmis long kept silence, but at last was obliged to an­swer. Alas! madam, said she, what shall I say? were I not here, I might pretend to feel as you do till you would attend, and by de­grees become reasonable.

Do you think me unreasonable?

I do, madam.

You have little susceptibility.

I have at least experience.

My regard for you is much diminished by your notions.

I vex and provoke you; I foresaw I should; you are under the dominion of pas­sion, and I cannot use these arguments you need.

I cannot bear this—But let me hear you attempt his excuse.

I would not be successful at present, allow me to decline.

I insist on knowing your opinion.

If you are determined, I think that in this affair you have not common sense. Phila­mir [Page 109] is only twenty; a very pardonable curi­osity, and not an intention to deceive you, led him to the rendezvous; that coquette is charming; he for a moment forgot him­self, was wrong, felt he was, and repented. This is the only error love can reproach him with; he now knows coquettes, despises them most sincerely, has a sincere love for you, and deserves to be forgiven.

He never shall.

And do you expect perfect fidelity?

I do indeed—Love never can exist if not reciprocal and sincere.

You are right; and therefore is the du­ration of love so short, it is not possible for a man to have as much delicacy as an affec­tionate and virtuous woman; and the most tender Lover must soon be discarded, if his mistress has neither credulity nor patience.

You think me whimsical, then?

To an extreme.

Have you not then pity for me?

I feel for you; but when I compare your situation to mine, my compassion is not great.

The lover of a coxcomb must expect no other.

And those who love a youth under twen­ty, [Page 110] should lay their account with greater vex­ations than you have yet known.

What a hard hearted speech!

'Twas you led me on.

I expressed my thoughts without intend­ing to vex you.

And you have done so very much, which I shall remember hereafter.

I shall never forget your indifference.

You have no justice nor reason in your arguments.

You go too far, interrupted Zeolide; leave me; I expected consolation, and you aggra­vate my pains; be gone.

Palmis vexed, retired without speaking.

Zeolide then melting into tears, Philamir has betrayed me, and Palmis loves me no longer. I have lost them both at once— But my mother remains.

The Princess composed herself, and went to the Queen's apartment.—Altemira was the best and tenderest of mothers; Zeolide told her of all her sorrows, and the Queen partook of her griefs, and even her resent­ment. How guilty did Philamir especially appear! He had forgot Zeolide for a mo­ment; but such, said she, are men. Alas! did you know▪ my daughter, what confes­sions [Page 111] I have torn from your father's bosom. —But Philamir is to me a thousand times still more inexcusable; yes, my child, the greatest wrong that can be done me is to af­flict thee; thy pangs are the only ones I can­not support with courage; they distract me.

Dear mother, cried Zeolide, in you I find all the tenderness I experienced before we entered this Castle, you are the only one whose kindness remains.

No, my daughter, there are no allusions mingled with the affections of nature; a good mother cannot speak more than she feels, nor paint tenderness more passionate than her heart really feels.

Overcome with gratitude, the Princess clasped her mother's neck, whilst the tears of filial affection gladdened her maternal bo­som, and mitigated one another's sorrows.

The Queen and her daughter spent seve­ral days in the company of each other; at last they consented to receive the sage and virtuous Gelanor. The Philosopher incited a spirit of indulgence; the Queen admitted Phanor; Zeolide went herself in search of Palmis, and the two friends tenderly embra­ced each other. Explanations, however, in the Castle of Truth, could not dissipate all [Page 112] the clouds that had risen. Gelanor conducted Philamir to the feet of Zeolide. The Princess wished to assure Philamir she had forgotten the past; but was forced to tell him her love was sometimes lessened, and that she secret­ly preserved a little resentment and suspi­cion. The Prince was grieved, and was o­bliged to own too he was somewhat vexed; and had it not been for the remonstrances and advice of Gelanor, the two lovers would have fallen out again; but they preserved appearances although it was impossible to bring them again to their former happiness.

Phanor having questioned Aristeus cir­cumstantially, learned, that if he had not been scrupulously virtuous▪ he had estimable qua­lities; at least, that he possessed probity and real patriotic sentiments.—In Chrisel he dis­covered a flattering and ambitious Courtier, but a faithful subject; and as for Zoram, his foible was not wickedness, but folly.

Be conducted by my advice, said Gela­nor to the Genius; treat these courtiers with indulgence, but grant them no more a blind confidence; let them henceforth find the only means to obtain your favour is by rec­titude and virtue, and they will become new men. When Monarchs have arrived at an [Page 113] age of maturity, and towards the end of their reign, they are then the real formers of Courtiers, and they are either good or bad as the monarch trains them.

The Genius took his advice, and recalled his three Courtiers, who had been shut up in a corner of the Castle; but society was no longer agreeable; no person durst open his lips, lest he should say something imperti­nent; and when forced to break this obsti­nate silence, trembled as he spoke, and sel­dom uttered a word which was not either ill-timed or offensive. All execrated the Ca­stle, and the only pleasure they could find in it was, to entertain themselves with the ma­ny strangers they saw.

One night the Prince, more discontented with Zeolide, and sorrowful than ordinary, went to seek Gelanor, and relate his new cause with grief. He had never been in the apartment of this venerable old man, but was conducted thither by an attendant. As soon as he came to the door, he opened it, entered, and saw a young beautiful lady, in long mourning robes, sitting by the Philoso­pher's side, holding a book, and reading a­loud. Gelanor appeared embarrassed at the sight of the Prince; Philamir surprised, ad­vanced [Page 114] towards the handsome lady, enquir­ing if she was lately come.

It is six weeks, my Lord, since I came.

Impossible! six weeks! and no body yet mentioned your name; you have no doubt, lived concealed; it is not else possible you could have been secret.

Society I am forced to shun, and I am fond of solitude: I see no person here but Gela­nor, to whom I listen, by whom I am in­structed, and these are all my enjoyments.

Mirza, said Gelanor, the Prince wishes to speak to me.

I am in no hurry, said Philamir.

But I do not wish to lose him; please leave us, Mirza.

She immediately, laying the book on the table, modestly curtsied, and retired.

A charming lady, indeed! said the Prince, grace and modesty—Why is she in weeds?

She is a widow.

How long?

Only about a month; her husband was very distressed when he came.

I doubt not beauty is not her only quali­fication.—

Why do you not speak?

Why do you enquire?

[Page 115]Nothing but curiosity.

Be careful of curiosity; you are young, and know not whither it may lead you.

My curiosity is harmless—But say, as to her mental Qualifications—

She has many.

Every perfection?

Was it to talk of her you came hither?

Any thing else I had to say was of no con­sequence —A repetition of old griefs. I am discontented; Zeolide is no longer the same; her temper is quite altered, vexed, irritated at nothing—Her reproaches are eternal—I I am tired of all this—Mirza has an air of such mildness, such modesty—Is she cheer­ful at times.

What is the cause of that question?—Let us speak of the Princess; for never since I have inhabited the Castle of Truth, have I read a heart more noble, more pure, more loving than hers.

Was she very fond of her husband?

Husband!—Of whom do ye speak?

Mirza.

Indeed, Philamir, you are unworthy of the heart of the most charming Princess on earth.—What a difference there is between your sentiments and those of Zeolide! A­mong [Page 116] all the men here assembled, and many of them are amiable, Zeolide sees only you; all eyes are fixed on her, and I know two or three Princes who love her to distraction; Zeolide only is ignorant of their regard, or pays no attention to it.

Sure, replied the Prince, I love none but Zeolide; and as I should certainly excite her jealousy, were I to see Mirza again, I en­gage to come hither again no more

The Philosopher much commended this intention, which the Prince kept punctually.

Philamir left Gelanor, and visited Palmis, for whom he had conceived a great friend­ship. Palmis had not the delicacy of Zeo­lide, consequently could not always in her heart approve her manner of thinking. Be­ing obliged to speak as she thought, when Philamir complained of Zeolide, Palmis, though with regret, could not avoid owning Zeolide was rather strict.

While they were thus converting together, Zeolide unexpectedly entered. The Prince and Palmis blushed—And I disturb you it seems, said the Princess.

You do, said Palmis.

Tell me of whom were you speaking?

[Page 117]Philamir was complaining of your unrea­sonable conduct.

And what said you?

I agreed.

And thus you endeavour to encrease his ill opinion of me?— Were I really capricious and unreasonable, ought my friend to speak thus? and that to—

Remember, madam, we are in the Castle of Truth; could I speak as I wish, my first care should be to persuade the Prince he is al­ways wrong when he thinks any way to your disadvantage.

The Princess could make no answer, but was vexed and silent. Philamir and Palmis durst not venture a word. At last, the Prin­cess, heaving a deep sigh, said, you are really both of you very agreeable company!—Of whom are you meditating, Philamir?

Of the beautiful Mirza.

Who is she?

A beautiful widow, I saw with Gelanor to­day.

And you are doubtless in love with her.

It is Zeolide alone I love.

You are desirous to see the widow again?

I am not: to my love I sacrifice my incli­nation to enjoy her conversation.

[Page 118]You suppose me jealous, then!

Certainly.

Is there no way of concealing my failings? Must you know alt my weakness?

Here she burst into tears—Thus, cried the Prince, I never meet with any thing but com­plainings and tears from you.

No sooner had he thus said, ere he felt the effect they must necessarily produce in the heart of Zeolide, and fell at her feet. Zeo­lide rejected him with anger; your want of feeling, said she, is shocking.—No, you love me not; or, at least you are incapable of love like mine—Are you not—

I wish I could.

You then confess you do not love.

Do not oppress me, I have not your refin­ed feelings, but as I can I love.

So, so—you only esteem—

I do not use the word Love, because you have forbidden me.

Yes, before we entered this Castle.

On pronouncing these words Zeolide blushed and turned away her head, to hide her confusion. Philamir smiled, and seized the hand of the Princess, which he tenderly clasped between his own. Zeolide drew back her hand; pray tell me, said she, how [Page 119] it is possible, having only seen this very beau­tiful lady once, you are so very anxious to see her once more.

Say not very anxious.

You said, that to me you sacrificed this happiness.

Though I did, yet had I the liberty of choosing expressions I would have chosen another.

Thus not seeing her is a sacrifice.

Surely; she is amiable▪ witty, and her company would have given me pleasure; I regret it, and your jealousy I easily observe.

Say you, my jealousy, cried Zeolide, with extreme vexation, what expressions! what language!—Yet, alas! it is too true; I have been rediculously jealous, I condemn myself for it, and were we not in this fatal Castle, you had not known it.

A few days after this conversation, as Phi­lamir was walking, according to his custom, in the Alley of Palm-trees, he perceived, at a distance, the beautiful Mirza, greatly agi­tated. She approached the Prince, and with a disturbed and timid air, exclaimed, Par­don me, my Lord—I am in great distress —I have been seeking a pocket-book, [Page 120] which I have lost above this hour; did you see it?

I regret I did not, replied Philamir, as you are so much concerned for its loss.

My secret is in it.

Your secret, madam!

I have been foolish enough to write down my feelings in that book—But I must say no more—Adieu, my Lord, and if by chance you should find my pocket-book, deign to promise you will restore it to me, and, above all, open it not.

I certainly will not, but should I find it, where shall I see you?

In this place at this hour to-morrow.

With these words she left him, and as she went, twice turned her head to look at the Prince, who followed her with his eyes, and when he lost sight of her he sighed.

In vain the Prince endeavoured to find the pocket-book; he searched the gardens round and round, but unsuccessfully. As, about noon, he was returning towards the Castle, he met the three Courtiers Aristeus, Chrisel, and Zoram, all in conversation. Surprised to see them so intimate, he approached and complimented them on the occasion. Ah! [Page 121] my Lord, cried Chrisel, we are united by our mutual apprehensions.

How, pray?

Treason against the state would not have more infallibly ruined us—we cannot es­cape.

What do you mean?

The Genius has this night desired us to attend the recital of a Play he has written.

Perhaps it is a good piece.

Alas, it is execrable. It is six months since we heard it, and made him believe it a chef-d'oeuvre.

I understand your difficulty; Phanor has desired you to hear it again, to judge of your sincerity.

No, no; he is perfectly secure, and that is the worst part of the affair; he believes we have flattered him on every possible sub­ject, but only this.

Wherefore then read it again to you?

On account of alterations; there are like­wise two celebrated Authors just arrived, whom he intends to astonish and confound, by shewing them his work.

He will be engaged with them.

True, but it is necessary to cry and laugh at this infernal piece; which is impossible [Page 122] here, for it would be immediately seen whe­ther the tears were fictitious or not.

An Author might be deceived perhaps? Is there, in fact, a charm sufficiently strong to prevent an Author from being a dupe? Let us only be confident, my friends, and I hope Phanor will not be able to judge by our countenances.

And besides, added Philamir, his atten­tion will be wholly directed towards these newly arrived Authors, who will speak with­out apprehension, not knowing the charms of this Castle.

My lord, you say well; and in order to keep them in ignorance on this subject till the reading is over, they have been taken to an apartment and separate from the compa­ny.

Came they together?

They did not; and as they detest one an­other, they are kept in separate apartments.

Phanor appeared and the subject was changed.—You spoke of my Play, did you not, said Phanor?

We did, said Zoram, trembling.

I know well you were not speaking against it; for never shall I forget, how you were affected when you heard it first. To-day [Page 123] you will be still more delighted, for I have made such additions! so sublime! our Au­thors will be somewhat surprised, and as they do not know the virtues of this Castle, I am certain they will testify as much jea­lousy as astonishment. Will they not?

Your wit will incite no jealousy.

You think so, because of my high station! I assure you that is no impediment. About a year ago I read this very piece to a man of real wit, but who is himself a writer; well, Sir, he could not hide his jealousy, his praise was so cold, so aukward, his perplex­ity so great, and his sufferings so cruel, he really excited my compassion. The vanity of an author is absolutely unaccountable. As for me, I am just, and do not deceive my­self. Often in the course of my existence, I have been deceived, but never on that sub­ject; never was flattered there—And the reason is, it is impossible.

The Genius's assurance and conversation made the Courtiers hearts shrink within them. After dinner, the Genius sent to in­form Learchus and Tarsis he was ready to receive them; and the former arriving first, Phanor interrogated him concerning Tarsis. I hate him, replied Learchus, though the [Page 124] principle of my hatred obliges me to dissem­ble; I wish to seem equitable; secretly I ca­lumniate, publicly I praise him, but in an artful manner; it is only to convince the world, not to do him justice.

Notice that! said the Genius, whispering Chrisel, with a smile of penetration: such is the envy of which I just now spoke, and hence you may imagine how much I know of the human heart.

Immediately Tarsis entered, and, after a moment's conversation, Phanor unfolded his manuscript; the two authors placed them­selves opposite; Phanor thus proceeded.

This play I must tell you, Gentlemen, is Capital.

That information, replied Learchus, is cus­tomary; a reading has seldom begun, till something like this has first been said; but you need not fear, my Lord, we shall none of us speak a word of what we think, the highest praises will be showered on you.

Tarsis was astonished to hear him: he could not conceive it possible to carry truth and indiscretion so far.

The Genius smiled—Yes, said he, I can depend upon your sincerity, and am well as­sured you will be obliged to praise what you [Page 125] shall hear. Know then, Gentlemen, you will melt into tears during the first and second act, laugh at every speech in the third and fourth, and be astonished to find the fifth so sublime. The style is elegant and pure, the characters natural and well sustained, the plot is artfully conducted, and the denou­ment inimitable.

Honest indeed, cried Tarsis. Authors u­sually say as much, but it is in a far-fetched and ambiguous manner. For my part, my Lord, I like your proud plain way better; it is at least more comic, and may bring mo­desty into fashion.

I acknowledge, replied the Genius, when I am at home, I cannot help speaking thus undisguisedly; my language may astonish, but you will soon see, however, there is no­thing really ridiculous in all I have mention­ed.

Phanor then began to read, and, as it was necessary to weep during the two first acts, the Courtiers took out their handkerchiefs and hid their faces. The Genius stopped al­most at every line: observe, said he, how profound is that reflection! how original that thought! how philosophic this! and spoke so continually, during these interruptions, [Page 126] and between the acts, and praised himself so much, that his auditors had absolutely no room to say any thing. The two authors seemed very attentive, and finding the de­vice of the handkerchiefs a very happy one, they made use of the same expedient and hid their faces. Phanor triumphed when he be­held all their handkerchiefs in motion at the end of the second act. Come, come, Gentle­men, said he, the serious part is over, laugh­ter now comes on.

He then set the example, when he thought it was necessary to laugh. How humorous this is, how full of wit is that, cried he every instant; there are a few free strokes, and some double entendres, but these are the taste of the age, and we cannot make folks laugh without them; to unite decency and wit is too hard a task; and, for my part, I only wish to please, therefore, do not perplex myself about morality and good manners, but sacrifice them without scruple, whenever I am induced either by a witty stroke or in­viting description.

That is nothing uncommon at all, replied Learchus, we do the same; it is necessary, however, for form's sake, though a work may be ever so licentious, to scatter a cer­tain [Page 127] quantity of sentiments through it, and moral phrases; after the most free and inde­cent traits, one is charmed to see an eulogi­um on virtue; such a thing is not expected in such a place, but on that account the sur­prise strikes the more.

Doubtless, replied the Genius, and you will find I understood this finesse; for my play ends with four verses, which tell the spectators it has a moral purpose; though I can assure you, without seeking to raise myself in your esteem, I had no other pur­pose but that of displaying my superior abi­lities. Now for the fourth act.

Must we continue to laugh, said Tarsis?

So, so, I understand you, Phanor replied; keep silence and attend.

While he read the three last scenes of this act, Learchus and Tarsis several times endea­vored to burst into a laugh; and the Geni­us, reclining towards Zoram, said, softly, do you not observe? envy will not let them laugh, only from the teeth outwards; how the hag gnaws their hearts; this is much more flattering to me, than all the praises they could possibly give, for my pride is e­qually delicate and penetrating.

[Page 128]When he finished, the Genius rose, rub­bed his hands, and smiling, said, these gen­tlemen will now explain themselves, and we shall then know what ye think.

My Lord, I am perplexed.

Indeed, so am I.

I doubt it not, replied the Genius, in a rage.

It is not easy, my Lord, to praise.

For want of expressions, no doubt—this is the highest praise.

How extravagant and wild is this?

My thrid and fourth act are out of the common road; thus you see I did not exag­gerate, when I told you you would find hu­mour absolutely run wild. It must be own­ed, Chrisel, added the Genius, it is charm­ing to hear all this said in the Castle of Truth.—What think you, Tarsis? Why this silence?

However envious, my Lord—

Well now! cried Phanor, transported with joy; there Zoram, did not I predict? You hear he is devoured with envy.—But why should I longer abuse the necessity these poor people are under of speaking what they think? I ought to be satisfied, and not seek to humble men too much to depress them.

[Page 129]The Genius then sent the authors away, conversed some time longer with the Cour­tiers. He asked no questions for he had no doubts; he spoke only of his own fame, and the vast success his piece must have. So the Courtiers got off for a little terror.

Whenever they got by themselves, was I wrong, said Aristeus, to conceive hopes of escaping the danger? Every illusion vanishes here, except vanity, and that is more migh­ty than all the Magicians. Love itself is not so blind as an author hoodwinked by self-conceit and vanity.

The day following the Prince went to the Alley of Palm-trees, where he did not at first find Mirza, but walked about expecting her arrival. After he had walked some time, he saw a sheet of written paper on the grass in a woman's hand; he read, and was amaz­ed to find charming verses, in which Mir­za expressed for Philamir a most violent pas­sion—Oh! unhappy and amiable Mirza, cried the Prince, this no doubt is one of the pages of that pocket-book which thou didst search for with such anxiety. The wind du­ring the night has blown it hither.—Alas! is this then the secret Mirza would hide from me? this is a distressing discovery indeed!

[Page 130]She immediately came in view, Philamir flew to meet her. Oh! my Lord, said Mir­za, I have just found my pocket-book, but there is a leaf gone.—Heavens! what do I see, that very leaf in your hands— And have you read it?—Unfortunate Mirza! now is thy distress at its height.

When Mirza had thus said, she fell on the lawn, and seemed ready to faint; the Prince, quite beside himself, kneeled to assist her. Oh Mirza! cried he, with a broken voice, into what a dreadful distress hast thou plun­ged me? Is it possible, I am indeed beloved by Mirza.

Harsh Philamar, cried Mirza, since you have read that writing, the silence I had imposed upon my lips is useless; it cannot now conceal my weakness.—Yes, I adore you. Alas! you alone have taught me to know the most violent, the most imperious of all the passions; never shall I banish it my bosom. No, I feel it will follow, or rather precipitate me into the grave. Your's I can­not be, your faith is plighted, death is my only refuge.

Death! say you! Heavens! cried Phila­mir, and shall I be the cause of your death? —Rather let—Oh Mirza! conceive the [Page 131] horror of my situation—my engagement is sacred.

Too well I know that, cried she; and were you willing to break it, I never would con­sent. Zeolide is worthy to participate your happiness. Love shall never make me un­just. Often has Gelanor spoken to me or the Princess, and interested me in her behalf; not daring to speak in your praise, I listen­ed with pleasure, to the eulogiums of a la­dy so dear to your heart. No, Zeolide, I cannot hate thee, for Philamir thou sincere­ly lovest.

Glorious sentiments; and do you not hate her!

You could not be happy without her, therefore could my life save her's, I would give it.

Mirza, Mirza! how you fill me with a­stonishment!

Farewel, Philamir, my heart! you know I cannot forbear repeating, and remember, I speak it in the Castle of Truth, I shall love you to the last breath of life. In this bosom you will ever reign, and over a heart as vir­tuous and pure as it is noble and affection­ate. Incapable of ambition and of jealousy, [Page 132] I might have made you happy if—Fare­wel▪ dearest Prince, Farewel.

Alas! cried the Prince, this I cannot support—Oh, adorable Mirza! do you then mean to quit the Castle? I know your three months are expired, but three weeks I am doomed to remain.

Instantly would I leave this Castle, repli­ed Mirza, were not Gelanor ill; but to him my attendance is necessary, and I must stay. I insist, however, that you come not to his apartment; and I conjure you never to con­fide to any one, the secret you thus have learnt by surprise. You cannot utter a false­hood, but you can be silent.—Again, Prince, farewel for ever.

With these words, Mirza ran with ex­treme precipitation; the Prince would have held her, but Mirza, with a commanding and majestic air, forbade him to follow, and Philamir was forced to obey. The charms of Mirza's person and mind, and the admiration and compassion she inspired, did but too powerfully combat the fidelity he owed to Zeolide; his vanity too was most potently flattered: to inspire love in the breast of a lady so heroically virtuous, was a triumph which Philamir could not [Page 133] help feeling. Love must rob the beauteous and sublime Mirza of life; the Prince could not doubt it: Zeolide might find consolation. This was a reflection Philamir often made, yet he continued to love Zeolide. He thought the Princess much inferior to her Rival, but at the same time he found an un­known charm about Zeolide, which Mirza did not possess. Zeolide attracted, insinu­ated, and was deeply engraven in his heart. Mirza dazzled and inflamed the imagina­tion; but she was far above him; she did not enrapture but amaze.

Afraid to discover the secret of Mirza, Philamir avoided Zeolide as much as possi­ble; and perceiving how mortally he dread­ed to be alone with her, reason and pride e­qually bade the Princess not seek a flying Lover. After so much vexation, so many inquietudes, torments and struggles, Zeo­lide began to suffer less; she had seen the vanity of her ideas, and love was nearly extinguished.

At length the three weeks were at an end, and the day came, when Philamir was to quit the Castle of Truth. Before the Prin­cess was awake, Philamir went to the alley of Palm-trees. He had a strong desire yet [Page 134] again to see Mirza, and had written to con­jure her once more to come, yet durst not hope that severe Mirza would consent to re­ceive his last farewel. How great was his joy, when he saw her suddenly appear. Mir­za testified the utmost surprise at perceiving the Prince. She would have fled, but was withheld by Philamir. Ah, my Lord! said she, I thought you had already quitted the Castle, and I came again to see this place so dear to me.

You got my line then?

I did not, my lord; what line?

The Prince was vexed to think he owed the happiness of seeing her again to chance alone. Every thing that gratitude or ten­derness could inspire the Prince uttered. Mirza wept, and discovered sentiments so heroic, and at the same time so passionate, that the Prince fell enraptured on his knees, and could only express his admiration by his tears. The Prince just at this moment hearing the leaves rustle, turned his head, but what was his astonishment and distress when Zeolide appeared?

Zeolide, struck dumb with amazement, stood silent; the confused Philamir durst not speak. At length Mirza, addressing herself [Page 135] to the Princess, related her whole story. You see, madam, added she, I have no­thing to reproach myself with. I do not fear, that even my Rival should read my most secret thoughts; and I not only do not hate you, but have a lively sensation of what your feelings must this moment be. I suf­fer as much from your woes as from my own. Philamir regrets me, this cannot be denied; but it is you he loves, and were he to attempt to break his engagement to you, I would oppose his intentions. I am about to quit, and never see him more. The effort will cost me my life, but to my love duty is superior.

Can it be, cried Zeolide, that a passion which reason cannot approve, may become thus violent in a heart like your's?—A­dieu, Philamir, continued the Princess, I restore you your freedom, and at length re­gain my own; but renouncing you, I re­nounce the married state.—Be happy, and farewel.

Stay, Princess, cried the distracted Phila­mir.

Begone, my Lord, said Mirza, with languishing voice, go recover your mistress and abandon the wretched Mirza! She no [Page 136] longer loves, I adore—O! that with my heart I could restore you her, since without her life is a burden.

How exalted a soul! Yes, Mirza, you deserve happiness! Yet Zeolide!—I can­not determine my own feelings.

Cruel Prince! do you doubt between a woman who abandons you, and the unfor­tunate affectionate Mirza.—Should you, now hope has entered my heart, should you now abandon me, you will behold me expire.—Yet what do I say? Heavens! I am distracted!—Alas! I cannot in this place hide my transports.

Let me away, you shall not leave me, nor shall the best of her sex be by me devoted to death.

What is this I hear! cried Mirza. Is life yet in view?—And will you love me?

Philamir could not answer for his tears— away then, dear Prince, stop not a mo­ment. Fly from this Castle.

Thus saying, she transported, pulled the Prince along with her, who shed a torrent of tears. They approached the fatal gates of the Castle, when they were suddenly met by the venerable Gelanor: Mirza shudder­ed [Page 137] —Fly, Prince, fly this old man, said she; hear him not!

Stop, cried Gelanor; you cannot fly— The gates are shut.

Mirza, at these terrible words, turned pale, her trembling legs scarcely could sup­port her—Gelanor approached, and seiz­ing her by the arm—Perfidious woman, said he, return the Talisman, or I will in­stantly deliver you to the vengeance of Pha­nor! Mirza did not hesitate a moment, but taking the box of crystal from her pocket gave it to Gelanor, who, turning towards Philamir, said, Now listen to that woman, for whom you have sacrificed Zeolide; speak, Mirza, speak, I enjoin you, cried Gelanor.

If it must be so, said Mirza, I had but the mask of virtue; ambition and vanity a­lone, inspired me with a desire to seduce this credulous and silly Prince.

Begone, said the Philosopher, you have said enough.

She immediately withdrew▪ and the Prince, raising his eyes and hands to Hea­ven, exclaimed, Wretch that I am! What have I done? Oh Zeolide?—Yet how could [Page 138] I conceive such sentiments and so seemingly sincere a passion.

Do you know how that happened?— Pride—With a little less vanity you would have thought, however dangerous love may be, it is not a disease of which people die; you would have known, that not even com­passion should obliterate a promise so sacred.

O my Gelanor! What shall I do! become my Mentor and Protector.

You are not yet hopeless; the Genius is informed of every thing, and is this instant endeavouring to prevail on the Princess to grant you a generous pardon; he will come to seek you, when your appearance will be proper.

In the mean time, said the Prince, tell me how this Talisman, which Phanor gave to the beauteous Agelia, could come into the artful Mirza's possession.

It was shortly thus, replied Gelanor— When Agelia quitted the Castle, as she came to the gate, she took this precious box from Nadir, and gave it me. Gelanor, said she, I give you this Talisman, on condition you never return it to Phanor; and that you lend it to women, as often as by this means you can preserve them from any great peril. [Page 131] Be you, henceforth the protector of the weaker sex, in this dangerous Castle; and though you must despise the guilty, yet grant them your pity and assistance.

The amiable Agelia thus spoke, I received the Talisman, and, conformable to her be­nevolent intentions, have, for these eigh­teen years, preserved many wives from the wrath and resentment of their husbands. I sent them the Talisman, and they had too much interest to keep the secret, for me to fear the least indiscretion on their parts; each woman, with whom the box has been de­posited, returned it at departing; and to this day the secret has never been discovered.

It is about four months ago, as I was walking in the gardens, I perceived a beauti­ful lady weeping. This lady was Mirza; who told me she had arrived that morning, and learnt, by chance, the virtue of the Castle. I have a husband, added she, in a consumption; he has but a short time to live; I have made him happy but have de­ceived him; should he interrogate me, his last moments will become dreadfully misera­ble, e're he dies he may take some method to be revenged.

[Page 140]Mirza got the Talisman from me, and calmed her fears; and her husband, about a month afterwards expired in her arms, blessing heaven for having given him the most virtuous of women for a wife. Mirza, be­come a widow, conjured me to leave the Talisman in her hands till she departed, that she might preserve her reputation, which an indiscreet question in the Castle might de­prive her of, when this precious Talisman was taken from her.

She appeared fond of me; she was amia­ble and witty, and her company was not without its charms. I felt, however, how dangerous she might be to others, since with so much wit and beauty, she alone had the power of dissimulation. I therefore required she should live in retirement; and when you arrived, I ordered her to avoid you. Her secret was in my keeping, and she found it necessary to submit.

I became distrest, and she, under pre­text of nursing me, prolonged her stay. I saw yesterday she was agitated, and had my suspicions, but said nothing. The Physician had ordered me to keep my room a few days longer, which Mirza knew; but this morn­ing I wished to see the Princess before she [Page 141] went, who related to me the heroic scene which just had passed, I instantly sought for Phanor; he ordered the gates of the Castle to be shut; and as the Princess was ignor­ant of Mirza's perfidy, we agreed not to mention the Talisman to her; that you, my Lord, if so you please, may avail yourself of its virtues to re-establish yourself in the love of Zeolide.

Gelanor then gave Philamir the crystal box; and at the same moment a slave came from Phanor to seek Philamir, who, full of trouble and distress, ran to the chamber of the Princess.

Whenever he saw her, he ran, flung him­self at her feet, discovered the deceit of Mir­za, and shewed her the Talisman which he had laid upon the table; by hiding this sto­ry, and keeping that Talisman, said he, I might have persuaded you I did not go with Mirza, and had resisted all her seductions; but though I cannot lose you without the loss of happiness, I would prefer even that to deceit. Yes, Zeolide, I was seduced, in­veigled; I no longer have the same blind and impetuous passion, which I felt before our arrival in this fatal Castle; but I love you, as I shall for ever love you; without [Page 142] you I cannot be happy, and it is from you alone, of all the ladies in the universe, I ex­pect happiness.

When he had thus said, his lovely Prin­cess gave the Prince her hand, which he re­ceived with transport. The sentiments you discover, said she, are worthy, and all I wish; and did this Castle destroy no other allusions than those which nourish love, I should not repent my having inhabited it; but the air we here breathe, is fatal even to friendship. Let us then away, Philamir, from this vile Castle.

Immediately she arose, and went along with the Genius, her mother and lover, to take their chariots.

Just as they were about to leave the gloo­my Castle of Truth, they saw, with inex­pressible surprize, the crystal walls take ano­ther colour, lose their transparency, become opaque, and suddenly transform themselves into porphyry and marble of a radical white.

The sovereign of the Genii appeared; and addressed the lovers thus:

The Charm of this Castle is at an end; and a new Palace fitted for your reception; in which the illusions necessary for happiness are to be found. May the Castle of Truth [Page 143] imprint on your memory, the fatal effects of jealousy, and teach you to suppress the first sug­gestion of foolish curiosity; may you ever re­member, that the soft ties by which hearts are united, are Mutual Confidence and Mild Concessions.