THE CARAVANSERAI OF BAGDAD.

FROM THE DANISH OF RAHBek.

To commence by offering one's readers any information concerning Bagdad would be positive insult. Who knows not the commander of the faithful, the mighty caliph Haorun Al Raschid, and his witty and beautiful favourite Scheherezade who saved her life by relating stories to her stern lord, one after another, for a thousand and one nights together, to the unspeakable delight of all the children of Europe, whether young or old. Or if there should indeed be some few to whose memories this ancient and well-beloved work has not lately been recalled by the most able of our younger poets, who is there who knows not at least the caliph of Bagdad and the far-famed Il Bondocani?

Now there was in Bagdad a caravanserai, which, as a matter of course, comprehended a multitude of apartments, corridors, and separate buildings; above all, there was one building especially adorned with everything costly and splendid that Asiatic luxury could invent, or Asiatic wealth procure; it stood in the midst of a beautiful garden shaded by fragrant and fruit-bearing trees, and watered by a silvery stream that rippled melodiously among them. The flat roofs of the edifice commanded a view of Babylonia's wide and fertile plains, and in the distance was seen the majestic Euphrates proudly flowing amid picturesque heights, crowned by the ruins of ancient Babylon, whose gardens realised the boldest dreams of the poet, and the glowing creations of oriental fable. And on the other side the whole of mighty Bagdad lay extended before the gaze of the beholder with its sumptuous bazaars, their stalls crowded with costly attire, pearls, jewels, silk stuffs, and all those luxuries which the East has taught imitative Europe to admire, covet, and purchase at any price.

The aforesaid building was divided into four apartments, furnished and decorated in imitation of the four seasons of the year: it was never allotted to the first comer, far less to the highest bidder; but the host had made an inexorable law that it should be reserved for the most illustrious of those foreigners whom commerce, necessity, or curiosity might bring to Bagdad.

Now it once happened that a German baron, a Chinese grandee, a Turk, and a modern Roman arrived at the caravanserai at the same time, for in those days people travelled to Bagdad just as now they go to Paris, for the sake of saying that they had been there. The German, who was proud of his title and prouder still of his two-andthirty ancestors, made not the slightest doubt that the owner of the caravanserai would immediately assign the post of honour to a man of his rank and birth.

"Softly, my friend!" said the Chinese to him, "if you insist upon it by virtue of your ancestry, then I will appeal to these distinguished strangers whether I have not a still better claim. I have as many ancestors as you have, but with this difference: in Europe the merits or rather the distinction which a man may have attained through

money, servility, or evil-doing, pass as an inheritance to his descendants, whether they resemble him or not, and, which is the most comical part of the matter, these distinctions become greater every year, so that he who has really achieved a great action and has been ennobled accordingly, is of an infinitely lower grade than one who can prove that he is descended from a man, or is related within two-and-thirty degrees to one, who, ages ago, merited and obtained the insignia of nobility. Now in China, on the contrary, whenever a man has done the state good service, his forefathers are ennobled for the sake of his deserts. I, for instance, am a military mandarin, and, in reward for my having saved the Emperor's life in battle, the nation has ennobled my ancestors; nevertheless my children will have no share in honours they have not earned."

"By Allah!" interposed the Turk-for in those days all nations must, like the animals in fables, have spoken a universal language, so that every one could understand a chance fellow-traveller, and chat with him without the ceremony of an interpreter-"I would give the preference to this Chinese if it did not belong of right to myself; for neither from my parents nor from my children do I derive my nobility, I owe it to my sultan's favour alone, being his grand vizier, and as such second only to him in the empire. It is true certainly, that, as a word from his lips bas raised me to this high rank, so a puff of his breath may cast me into the dust again, and that if I were deposed to-morrow, even supposing that his janissaries were not despatched to fetch my head, I should be no better than the poorest fisherman on the coast, or the meanest eunuch in the seraglio; nevertheless so long as I am vizier, am I the first in the state, and none beside my precious sultan is above me, nor do I think that any of you can contest position of rank with me."

"But I can," and the modern Roman now began to assert his pretensions,—“I can, who am a Roman, who boast descent from a nation of kings, before whose power the earth trembled, and who gave laws alike to east and west-"

The Chinese smiled at this outbreak of vain glory, and looked at the German count, but the latter had as usual been too much enveloped in his own importance to think it necessary to learn anything but the history of his ancestors, and therefore did not understand the mandarin's smile.

"Thou pratest of thine ancestors, but my race can boast of more statues in their halls than thou hast ancestors. You all appear ignorant of my meaning, you are not perhaps aware that every Roman citizen, who at the call of his fellow-countrymen was raised to a post of honour, had the right to set up his own statue in his hall, and more than two-and-thirty of such statues have I buried in my garden before my departure, lest they should fall into the hands of the barbarians who are now devastating my country."

The host, who had been listening in a corner to the contest, now interposed, saying, "These are all fair claims that ye have put forth, my guests! and I shall beware of presuming to judge between such well-grounded titles to distinction. Fortunately here are three merchants from Bassora, who have just entered the caravanserai, and who have also listened with careful attention to your dispute, to them let it be referred."

The aforesaid three merchants, unknown even to the host, were neither more nor less than the Caliph Haroun Al Raschid, his grand vizier, Giafar, and Mesiour, his kislar aga, who, after their peculiar fashion, were perambulating the town together in disguise for the purpose of hearing that which the rich and powerful hear so seldom -the truth.

One of these three-it was Haroun Al Raschid himself—now stepped forward, and spoke as follows:

"Ye children of dust! the nobility ye strive for is dust like yourselves. Thou, German! who claimest the honour earned by one of thy forefathers thirty-two generations back, let thy progenitor come forward, and we will consider his claim, but thou hast none.

“Thou mandarin ! hast indeed a just title to our esteem in having saved thy master's life; yet, since it is not the action itself but its recompense on which thou hast founded thy pretensions, there is reason for doubting the real worth of that action, for it often happens that a man receives the reward of a deed not truly his own, or if it were, it is rather the work of accident or fortune than of an unselfish and courageous spirit.

"Thou, vizier! boastest of thy sultan's favour; but to judge of that we must first know his worth, must know whether thy sovereign is truly wise and just. The favourite of a fool is like a child's soapbubble, it is blown into the air, soars upwards for a moment, glistens with brilliant though borrowed colours, then bursts and vanishes.

"Lastly, thou, O Roman! whose vaunt is that thou art derived from a nation who called themselves the lords of the earth, whilst they were again and again the slaves of wretched tyrants; if thou be indeed descended from those better, nobler Romans, by whom it was indeed an honour to be raised to offices of distinction, who sold not their suffrages, nor rejected such men as Cato, then dare not to lift up thine eyes or thy voice in pride! thy country is, thou sayest, in the hands of foreign barbarians; oh then! hasten homewards, dig up the statues of thy forefathers, get thee arms, fight, struggle, bury thy oppressors beneath thy feet, and then come back here and call thyself a Roman.

"It is fortunate that the subject of this dispute is of no greater importance than the claims which are set up. Mussulman!" And here he addressed himself to the host, "Show each of these disputants his room, and have done with the absurd notion that outward pomp or rank can be the standard or reward of true merit; a genealogical tree, or stone statue will give more than sufficient title to the place where one may sit, lie, stand, or walk.

C. P.

POLITICS EN PASSANT.

BY MADAME DE MONTALK.

THINGS are not exactly couleur de rose with us here at the present moment, the shadow of forthcoming events seems to cast a gloom upon all things, and to awaken some vague forebodings that the question de la présidence now under discussion, may bring affairs to a speedy crisis. God only knows what may be the result, for we are in such a predicament that it appears almost impossible for any change to take place that does not realize the fable of King Log.

In the meanwhile the different parties and numerous enough they are all view matters according to their own respective hopes and wishes, and, were it possible to penetrate into all the wild schemes and extraordinary dénouements anticipated in petto by the partizans of different pretenders, and different systems, they would indeed offer strong evidence of the extent to which the human mind carries its illusions. The legitimist openly declares, that before many months the white banner of France will again wave from the Tuileries, and Henri, Roi de France et de Navarre, will once more sit upon the throne of his ancestors. The adherents of the house of Orleans are silent, and keep whatever hopes they may conceive to themselves; but, the white hats by which they are distinguished muster pretty strong, even in the National Assembly itself,the most distinguished members of which, indeed, mostly wear this badge of their opinions.

One of the most favourite and generally-believed reports and that, too, in defiance of the extremely moderate maiden speech of "Le citoyen Prince," is, that Louis Napoleon, far from being a republican at heart, is even now meditating a second edition of le dix-huit Brumaire, and only awaits an opportunity of converting the national cry-rarely, if ever, heard now-a-days, by-the-by,-of "Vive la République !" into " Vive "Empereur !"

Although the good old adage, which says, " un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien," is just as applicable to political as to culinary matters, and that, in a more normal state of things, such a parody of the master-stroke by which the genuine, bona-fide Napoleon grasped the imperial diadem of France, could only end in discomfiture and ridicule-witness Strasburg and Boulogne,-still, there does now exist such profound lassitude of what is, and such an eager yearning after anything else, no matter what, provided it be not a republic of any colour, that were his satanic majesty himself to step forward, and offer to assume the reins of power, there is every chance of his being received with open arms, provided he would but engage to deliver us from this awful statu quo.

In the meanwhile, there is something passing strange in the uncontrolled manifestation of every shadow of opinion which is tolerated; may be, that this one liberty is left us, in exchange for all the others of which we are deprived. It is by no means an unusual circumstance to behold prints and statuettes of Henri de France and Cabet, Proudhon and Louis Napoleon, the Comte de Paris and Raspail, all jumbled up together in the most ludicrous confusion, affording to the observer an eloquent,

though silent warning that we shall not so easily extricate ourselves from the democratic quagmire wherein we flounder, as if there were fewer pretenders on the look-out to lend us a helping hand out of it.

Some few days back a curious occurrence took place at the ex-Palais Bourbon, which has furnished food for much comment in the different political salons of Paris. It is first necessary, however, to state, that out of all the nine hundred representatives of the "sovereign people," two alone possess the privilege of driving into the court of the Assemblée Nationale, and of alighting thence out of the gaze of vulgar eyes. The one to avoid the bullets of his enemies; the other, the ovations of his friends. So true is it, that two diametrically different causes do sometimes produce exactly the same effect. It is almost needless to mention that les privilegiés are General Cavaignac and Louis Napoleon.

On the said day, the eleventh legion, which is one of the most republique, democratique, and social legions in Paris, happened to be on guard there; and, as the carriage of the prince drove into the court where the detachment was stationed, he was immediately recognised, and almost stunned by their loud vociferations of "Vive la République!" One sturdy citizen amongst them, whose feelings must have been of an extra degree of republicanism, advanced to the carriage-door, and, as he alighted, bawled into the very ears of the unlucky "hero of the Eagle,”—“ A bas les prétendants!""Il n'y a plus de prétendants, monsieur; il n'y a que des citoyens !" was the prompt and clever rejoinder of the prince, who, for once in his life, came off with flying colours.

Amidst the numerous victims of this revolution is one Citoyen Coquenard, whose hard case ought to be brought before the Assemblée Nationale, in order to obtain at their hands justice for the cruel injury that he has sustained. The case stands thus:-upwards of half a century ago, an ancestor of this said Citoyen Coquenard happening to do something or other that was very meritorious, obtained, by way of recompense, the signal honour of bestowing his euphonical name upon a certain street,―a very dirty, gloomy street it is in our own days,-which was then in construction, and which, according to his descendant, ought, to all intents and purposes, to have borne it till doomsday. Alas! poor Citoyen Coquenard! Amongst the many ups and downs brought about by the "four days of glory" was that of depriving half of the streets in Paris of their legitimate denominations, and re-baptizing them after the rising lights of the republic. Every street whose name bore any allusion to royalty was immediately endowed with a less obnoxious appellation, and sundry others, indeed, wholly innocent of any such crime (in republican eyes) did not get off any better. Thus, the Rue de Rambateau, named after the Préfet de la Seine, became Rue Barbès, and remained such until the 15th of May, when Barbès played naughty, gave offence to his quondam colleagues, and got himself locked up, in what he himself so melo-dramatically writes at the head of all his letters," Le donjon de Vincennes;" and now the poor unfortunate street is "a nameless thing," with nothing but a broad white patch to distinguish it from its better-endowed neighbours. All these transmutations had hitherto occasioned no more serious evil than just puzzling postmen and hackneycoach drivers, making one's letters reach one an hour later, or causing one to be set down in a wrong street, but now the just reclamations of Le Citoyen Coquenard, or rather of his lineal descendant, threaten to occasion some little embarrassment to the government. The just indig