nd, 2. The impossibility of
escaping from the hand of the oppressor.
I. When Persia was governed by the descendants of Sefi, a race of
princes whose wanton cruelty often stained their divan, their table, and
their bed, with the blood of their favorites, there is a saying recorded
of a young nobleman, that he never departed from the sultan's presence,
without satisfying himself whether his head was still on his shoulders.
The experience of every day might almost justify the scepticism of
Rustan. Yet the fatal sword, suspended above him by a single
thread, seems not to have disturbed the slumbers, or interrupted the
tranquillity, of the Persian. The monarch's frown, he well knew, could
level him with the dust; but the stroke of lightning or apoplexy might
be equally fatal; and it was the part of a wise man to forget the
inevitable calamities of human life in the enjoyment of the fleeting
hour. He was dignified with the appellation of the king's slave; had,
perhaps, been purchased from obscure parents, in a country which he
had never known; and was trained up from his infancy in the severe
discipline of the seraglio. His name, his wealth, his honors, were
the gift of a master, who might, without injustice, resume what he had
bestowed. Rustan's knowledge, if he possessed any, could only serve to
confirm his habits by prejudices. His language afforded not words for
any form of government, except absolute monarchy. The history of the
East informed him, that such had ever been the condition of mankind. The
Koran, and the interpreters of that divine book, inculcated to him,
that the sultan was the descendant of the prophet, and the vicegerent of
heaven; that patience was the first virtue of a Mussulman, and unlimited
obedience the great duty of a subject.
The minds of the Romans were very differently prepared for slavery.
Oppressed beneath the weight of their own corruption and of military
violence, they for a long while preserved the sentiments, or at least
the ideas, of their free-born ancestors. The education of Helvidius and
Thrasea, of Tacitus and Pliny, was the same as that of Cato and Cicero.
From Grecian philosophy, they had imbibed the justest and most liberal
notions of the dignity of human nature, and the origin of civil society.
The history of their own country had taught them to revere a free, a
virtuous, and a victorious commonwealth; to abhor the successful crimes
of Caesar and Augustus; and inwardly to despis
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