“Ugh! you are one of the hawkers of inventions and secrets, one of those innovators we have heard so much of, who prowl about seeking what good old institution they can devour; fellows who would bring down our constitution, and heaven itself about our ears, with their infernal machines. Bah!”
Here the mighty king stepped over the still prostrate body of the artist, and approaching the innocent machine—in his eyes big with the darkest plots ever brewed in the heart of a State—full of a no less legitimate wrath than Don Quixote, when breaking the marionettes of Master Peter, he raised his formidable foot, and crushed the camera to atoms.
Adieu fortune, honour, fame, civilisation! Adieu art! adieu artist! At the sound of the smashing which announced his doom, Topaz sprang to his feet, and starting off like a man, ended his sorrows in the waters of the Amazon.
He who became his heir and confidant was Ebony, the poor black Sapajo, who came over to Europe and studied at one of the universities, in order to qualify himself to write this history.
In which the political reasons for the visit of Prince Leo shall be fully discussed.
AT the foot of the Atlas, on its desert side, there reigns an old Lion. Much of his youth was spent in travelling. He had visited the Mountains of the Moon, lived in Barbary, Timbuctoo, in the land of the Hottentots, among the republicans of Tangier, and among Troglodytes. From his universal benevolence he acquired the name of Cosmopolite, or friend of all the world. Once on the throne, it became his policy to justify the jurisprudence of the lions; carrying this beautiful axiom into practice—“To take is to learn.” He passed for one of the most erudite monarchs of his time, and, strange as it may seem, he utterly detested letters and learning. “They muddle still more what was muddled before.” This was a saying in which he took peculiar delight.
It was all very well; his subjects, nevertheless, were possessed by an insane craving for progress and knowledge. Claws appeared menacing him on all points. The popular displeasure poisoned even the members of the Cosmopolite’s family who began to murmur. They complained bitterly of his habit of shutting himself up with a griffin, and counting his treasure without permitting a single eye to rest upon the heap.