distinguished for his magnificence, and admitted, as a Prince whose
curiosity had brought him from distant countries, to an intimacy
with the great officers and frequent conversation with the Bassa
himself.

He was at first inclined to believe that the man must be pleased
with his own condition whom all approached with reverence and heard
with obedience, and who had the power to extend his edicts to a
whole kingdom. "There can be no pleasure," said he, "equal to that
of feeling at once the joy of thousands all made happy by wise
administration. Yet, since by the law of subordination this
sublime delight can be in one nation but the lot of one, it is
surely reasonable to think that there is some satisfaction more
popular and accessible, and that millions can hardly be subjected
to the will of a single man, only to fill his particular breast
with incommunicable content."

These thoughts were often in his mind, and he found no solution of
the difficulty. But as presents and civilities gained him more
familiarity, he found that almost every man who stood high in his
employment hated all the rest and was hated by them, and that their
lives were a continual succession of plots and detections,
stratagems and escapes, faction and treachery. Many of those who
surrounded the Bassa were sent only to watch and report his
conduct: every tongue was muttering censure, and every eye was
searching for a fault.

At last the letters of revocation arrived: the Bassa was carried
in chains to Constantinople, and his name was mentioned no more.