He takes refuge in a sanctuary, where his melancholy thoughts are
diverted by a curious story.
I had scarcely got rid of the nasakchi, when I heard the voice of my
friend the dervish, who was announcing his arrival in the holy city, by
all the different invocations of the Almighty and his attributes, which
are frequently made by true believers.
Very soon after, I was delighted to see him coming towards me, and to
hear him express his satisfaction that I had reached my resting-place
before my pursuer had had time to come up with me.
He proposed to keep me company for a short time, and we took possession
of one of the cells situated in the square court forming part of the
buildings in the centre of which the tomb is placed. I had by good
luck brought away my ready money, consisting of twenty tomauns in gold,
besides some silver; and we expended some of this in articles of the
first necessity, such as a mat to cover the bare floor of our room, and
an earthen jug for our water.
But before we had got any further in our domestic arrangements, the
dervish accosted me in the following manner: I must be informed of one
thing before we proceed. Do you ever say your prayers? do you keep your
fasts? do you make your ablutions regularly? or do you continue to live
in that fit state for eternal perdition which we were wont to do at
Meshed?
Why do you speak thus to me? said I. What can it be to you whether I
pray or not?
It is not much to me, answered the dervish, but it is a great deal
to yourself. This Kom is a place that, excepting on the subject of
religion, and settling who are worthy of salvation and who to be damned,
no one opens his lips. Every man you meet is either a descendant of the
Prophet or a man of the law. All wear long and mortified faces, and seem
to look upon that man as an appointed subject for the eternal fires, who
happens to have a rosy cheek and a laughing eye. Therefore, as soon as
I approach the place, I always change the atmosphere of my countenance
from fair to haze, and from haze to downright clouds and darkness,
according as circumstances may require. My knees, which scarcely ever
touch the praying carpet, now perform their functions five good times
per day; and I, who in any other place never consult any Kebleh[78] but
that of my own pleasure and inclinations, now know the direction of the
true one, as well as I know the way to my mouth.
All this is very well, said I; but what may be the use of it? I am a
Mussulman, tis true, but to such a pitch as this--no never.
The use? answered the dervish. The use is this; that it will save you
from being starved or stoned to death. These priests will hearken to no
medium,--either you are a true believer or you are not. If they were
to have the least suspicion that you doubted any of the articles of the
faith,--that you did not look upon the Koran as a living miracle, and
did not read it with becoming reverence, whether you understand or
not,--they would soon show you what power they possess. And if they were
to suppose you to be a _Sûfi_ (a free thinker), by the death of your
father and mother, they would tear you into little pieces, and then
feel contented that they had got on another post on the high road
to paradise. Perhaps, friend Hajji, you do not know that this is the
residence of the celebrated Mirza Abdul Cossim, the first _mûshtehed_
(divine) of Persia; a man who, if he were to give himself sufficient
stir, would make the people believe any doctrine that he might choose
to promulgate. Such is his influence, that many believe he could even
subvert the authority of the Shah himself, and make his subjects look
upon his firmans as worthless, as so much waste paper. But the truth is,
he is a good man; and, except stoning his sûfi, and holding us wandering
dervishes as the dirt under his feet, I know of no fault in him.
Having heard him out, I agreed that, however I might deplore the want of
habit in my religious duties, yet, situated as I was, it was necessary
that I should acquire them, in order to be held in proper estimation
by the great authorities, under whose eye I was immediately placed; and
forthwith I set about saying my prayers and making my ablutions, as
if my very existence depended upon my regularity. Indeed, what I had
formerly looked upon as irksome ceremony, now became an agreeable
pastime, and helped greatly to soften the tedium of my melancholy life.
I never omitted to rise at the first call; to make my ablutions at the
cistern, using all the forms of the strictest shiah, and then to pray in
the most conspicuous spot I could find. The intonations of my _Allah
ho akbar_ were to be heard in each corner of the tomb, and I hoped they
came to the ear of every inhabitant of it. No face wore a more mortified
appearance than mine: even the dervish, who was the best mimic possible,
could not beat me in the downcast eye, the hypocritical ejaculation, the
affected taciturnity of the sour, proud, and bigoted man of the law.
It became known that I was a refugee at the sanctuary; and I very soon
discovered the advantages which the dervish had promised me, from taking
upon me the airs of the place, and assuming the character of a rigid
Mussulman. He spread abroad the history of my misfortune, of course much
to my advantage, giving me out for one who was suffering for the sins of
another, and asserting that the doctor ought, in fact, to have been the
sufferer.
I became acquainted with the principal personages of the town, who were
agreed that they had never known a better model of a true believer than
I; and had I not been confined to the walls of the sanctuary, it was in
contemplation to have made me a _peish namaz_ (a leader of the prayers)
at their religious meetings in the mosque. I found that the profound
taciturnity which I had adopted was the best help towards the
establishment of a high reputation for wisdom; and that, by the help
of my beads, which I kept constantly counting, a mumble of my lips,
and occasional groans and pious exclamations, the road to the highest
consideration was open to me.
My dervish and I lived almost free of expense, so plentifully were
we supplied with food. The women, in particular, did not lose an
opportunity of bringing me presents of fruit, honey, bread, and other
necessaries, for which I repaid them with kind thanks, and now and then
with a talisman, written with my own hand.
But although our life was one of ease, yet it was so dull, and so void
of incident, that even the spirits of my companion began to sink under
it. In order to fill up some of the long hours of listlessness which
oppressed us, I encouraged him to recite all his stories, one by one,
not forgetting the one which he had related with so much effect in
the caravanserai of the sultans reservoir, and we found this a very
agreeable mode of closing the day.
I feel, O reader, that you also may partake of that same dullness
which oppressed me; and I think it but fair that I should endeavour to
dissipate it, in the same manner as mine was by the dervish,--therefore
I will repeat the story which he related to me; and, whether it amuses
you or not, yet perhaps you will be glad to know how the mind of a poor
prisoner, in the sanctuary at Kom, was diverted from its miseries.
[Illustration: The baked head. 23.jpg]
STORY OF THE BAKED HEAD
The present Khon-khor of Roum[79] is a staunch Mussulman and a rigid
upholder of the true faith. Upon his coming to the throne, he announced
his intention of doing away with many customs common to the infidels,
which had crept into the administration of the state during the reign
of his predecessor; and he thought it his duty to endeavour to restore
things to their primitive simplicity and to adopt a mode of government
purely Turkish. Accordingly he resumed a custom which had almost got
into disuse,--that of going about the city in _tebdil_, or disguise; and
he was so careful about the disguises which he adopted, and the people
whom he admitted into his secrets on these occasions, that he took all
sorts of precautions, and invented all sorts of schemes of secrecy, in
whatever related to his dresses, and the characters in which he chose to
appear.
It is not long ago that considerable discontent prevailed throughout
Turkey, and rebellion threatened to break out in Constantinople itself.
He was then very anxious to ascertain the temper of the public mind;
and, in his usual wary manner, determined to get a suit made that would
make him undiscoverable by even his own immediate attendants.
He usually sent for different tailors at different times, and in
different places. On this occasion he ordered his favourite slave,
the white eunuch Mansouri, to bring him one of no repute, with all
the requisite secrecy, at midnight, in order that he might receive
instructions about a dress.
The slave in great humility made his _bash ustun_ (on my head be it),
and went his way to execute the command.
Close to the gate of the _Bezesten_, or cloth-market, he saw an old man
in a stall, so narrow that he could scarce turn himself about in it, who
was taken up in patching an old cloak. He was almost bent double with
constant labour at his shopboard; and his eyes seemed not to have
benefited by his application, for a pair of glasses were mounted on his
nose. "This is precisely the man I want," said the slave to himself: "I
am sure he can be of no repute." So intent was he upon his work, that he
did not heed the salutation of "Peace be with you, friend!" with which
Mansouri accosted him; and when he did look up, and saw the well-dressed
personage whom he thought had spoken, he continued his work, without
making the usual reply; for he could not suppose that the salutation was
meant for such a poor devil as he.
However, finding that he was the object of the eunuch's attention, he
doffed the spectacles, threw away his work, and was about getting on his
legs, when he was stopped, and requested not to disturb himself.
"What your name?" said Mansouri.
"Abdallah," said the tailor, "at your service; but I am generally called
Babadul by my friends and the world at large."
"You are a tailor, are you not?" continued the slave.
"Yes," said the other, "I am a tailor as well as the muezzin at the
little mosque in the fish-market. What more can I do?"
"Well, Babadul," said Mansouri, "have you a mind for a job,--a good
job?"
"Am I a fool," answered the old man, "that I should dislike it? Say what
it is."
"Softly, my friend," remarked the eunuch; "we must go on slow and sure.
Will you suffer yourself to be led blindfolded at midnight wherever I
choose to take you, for a job?"
"That's another question," said Babadul; "times are critical, heads
fly in abundance, and a poor tailor's may go as well as a vizier's or a
capitan pacha's. But pay me well, and I believe I would make a suit of
clothes for Eblis, the foul fiend, himself."
"Well, then, you agree to my proposal?" said the eunuch, who at the same
time put two pieces of gold in his hand.
"Yes, most surely," said Babadul, "I agree. Tell me what I am to do, and
you may depend upon me."
Accordingly they settled between them that the eunuch was to come to the
stall at midnight, and lead him away blindfolded.
Babadul, being left alone, continued his work, wondering what could be
the job upon which he was to be so mysteriously employed; and, anxious
to make his wife partaker of the news of his good luck, he shut up his
stall earlier than usual, and went to his house, that was situated
not far from the little mosque in the fish-market, of which he was the
muezzin.
Old Dilferîb, his wife, was almost as much bent double as her husband;
and in consequence of the two gold pieces, and contemplation of more
which they expected to receive, they treated themselves to a dish of
smoking kabobs, a salad, dried grapes, and sweetmeats, after which they
consoled themselves with some of the hottest and most bitter coffee
which the old woman could make.
True to his appointment, Babadul was at his stall at midnight, where
he was as punctually met by Mansouri. Without any words, the former
permitted himself to be blindfolded, whilst the latter led him away by
the hand, making many and devious turns, until they reached the imperial
seraglio; there, stopping only to open the private iron gate, Mansouri
introduced the tailor into the very heart of the sultan's private
apartments. The bandage over his eyes was taken off in a dark chamber,
lighted up only by a small lamp, which stood on the shelf surrounding
the top of the room, but which was splendidly furnished by sofas of the
richest brocade, and by carpets of the most costly manufacture. Here
Babadul was commanded to sit, until Mansouri returned with a bundle,
wrapped in a large shawl handkerchief: this being opened, a sort of
dervish's dress was displayed to the tailor, and he was requested to
look at it, to consider how long he would be making such a one, and
then to return it again, duly folded up, to its shawl covering. In the
meanwhile, Mansouri told him to stay there until he should return to
take him away again, and then left him.
Babadul, having turned the dress over and over again, calculated
each stitch, and, come to his proper conclusions, packed it up in the
handkerchief, as he had been commanded; but no sooner had he done this
than a man of lofty demeanour and appearance, whose look made the poor
tailor shrink within himself, came into the room, took up the bundle,
and walked away with it, without uttering a single word.
A few minutes after, as Babadul was pondering over the strangeness of
his situation, and just recovering from the effects of this apparition,
a door opened in another part of the apartment, and a mysterious figure,
richly dressed, came in, bearing a bundle, equally covered with a shawl,
about the size of that which had just been taken away; and making the
lowest prostrations before the tailor, in great apparent trepidation,
approached him, placed it at his feet, kissed the ground, and retreated
without saying a word, or even looking up.
"Well," said Babadul to himself: "this may be something very fine, and
I may be some very great personage, for aught I know; but this is very
certain, that I had rather be patching my old cloak in the stall than
doing this job, however grand and lucrative it may be. Who knows what
I may have been brought here for? These comings in and goings out of
strange-looking people, apparently without tongues in their heads,
do not argue well. I wish they would give me fewer bows and a greater
supply of words, from which I might learn what I am to get by all this.
I have heard of poor women having been sewn up in sacks and thrown into
the sea. Who knows? perhaps I am destined to be the tailor on such an
occasion."
He had scarcely got thus far in his soliloquy when the slave Mansouri
re-entered the room and told him, without more words, to take up the
bundle; which having done, his eyes were again blindfolded, and he was
led to the spot from whence he came. Babadul, true to his agreement,
asked no questions, but agreed with the slave that in three days the
dress should be ready for delivery at his stall for which he was to
receive ten more pieces of gold.
Having got rid of his companion, he proceeded with all haste to his
house, where he knew his wife would be impatiently waiting his return;
and as he walked onwards he congratulated himself that at length he had
succeeded in getting indeed a job worth the having, and that his fate
had finally turned up something good for his old age. It was about two
o'clock in the morning when he reached the door of his house. He was
received by his wife with expressions of great impatience at his long
absence; but when he held up the bundle to her face, as she held up
the lamp to his, and when he said, "_Mujdeh_, give me a reward for good
news:--see, I have got my work, and a handsome reward we shall get when
it is finished," she was all smiles and good humour.
"Leave it there till we get up, and let us go to bed now," said the
tailor.
"No, no," said the wife, "I must look at what you have got before I
retire, or I shall not be able to sleep": upon which, whilst he held up
the lamp she opened the bundle. Guess, guess at the astonishment of the
tailor and his wife, when, instead of seeing a suit of clothes, they
discovered, wrapped in a napkin, in its most horrid and ghastly state, a
human head!
It fell from the old woman's hands and rolled away some paces, whilst
the horror-struck couple first hid their faces with their hands, and
then looked at each other with countenances which nothing can describe.
"Work!" cried the wife, "work, indeed! pretty work you have made of it!
Was it necessary to go so far, and to take such precautions, to bring
this misfortune on our heads? Did you bring home this dead man's head to
make a suit of clothes of?"
"_Anna senna! Baba senna!_ Curses be on his mother! Perdition seize his
father!" exclaimed the poor tailor, "for bringing me into this dilemma.
My heart misgave me as that dog of a eunuch talked of blindfolding and
silence to me: I thought, as true as I am a Turk, that the job could not
consist only in making a suit of clothes; and sure enough this dog's son
has tacked a head to it. Allah! Allah! what am I to do now? I know not
the way to his home, or else I would take it back to him immediately,
and throw it in his face. We shall have the bostangi bashi and a hundred
other bashis here in a minute, and we shall be made to pay the price of
blood; or, who knows, be hanged, or drowned, or impaled! What shall we
do, eh, Dilferîb, my soul, say?"
"Do?" said his wife; "get rid of the head, to be sure: we have no more
right to have it palmed upon us than anybody else."
"But the day will soon dawn," said the tailor, "and then it will be too
late. Let us be doing something at once."
"A thought has struck me," said the old woman. "Our neighbour, the
baker, Hassan, heats his oven at this hour, and begins soon after to
bake his bread for his morning's customers. He frequently has different
sorts of things to bake from the neighbouring houses, which are placed
near the oven's mouth over-night: suppose I put this head into one of
our earthen pots and send it to be baked; no body will find it out until
it is done, and then we need not send for it, so it will remain on the
baker's hands."
Babadul admired his wife's sagacity, and forthwith she put her plan into
execution. When the head had been placed in a baking-pan, she watched
a moment when nobody was at hand, and set it on the ground, in the same
row with the other articles that were to be inserted in Hassan's oven.
The old couple then double-barred the door of their house, and retired
to rest, comforting themselves with the acquisition of the fine shawl
and napkin in which the head had been wrapped.
The baker Hassan and his son Mahmûd were heating their oven, inserting
therein thorns, chips, and old rubbish at a great rate, when their
attention was arrested by the extraordinary whinings and barking of a
dog, that was a constant customer at the oven for stray bits of bread,
and much befriended by Hassan and his son, who were noted for being
conscientious Mussulmans.
"Look, Mahmûd," said the father to the son, "see what is the matter with
the dog: something extraordinary is in the wind."
The son did what his father bade him, and seeing no reason for the dog's
noises, said, "_Bir chey yok_, there is nothing," and drove him away.
But the howlings not ceasing, Hassan went himself, and found the dog
most extremely intent upon smelling and pointing at the tailor's pipkin.
He jumped upon Hassan, then at the pot, then upon Hassan again, until
the baker no longer doubted that the beast took great interest in its
contents. He therefore gently drew off the lid, when need I mention his
horror and surprise at seeing a human head staring him in the face?
"Allah! Allah!" cried the baker; but being a man of strong nerves,
instead of letting it fall, as most people would have done, he quietly
put on the lid again, and called his son to him.
"Mahmûd," said he, "this is a bad world, and there are bad men in it.
Some wicked infidel has sent a man's head to bake; but thanks to our
good fortune, and to the dog, our oven has been saved from pollution,
and we can go on making our bread with clean hands and clear
consciences. But since the devil is at work, let others have a visit
from him as well as ourselves. If it be known that we have had a dead
man's head to bake, who will ever employ us again? we must starve, we
must shut up our oven; we shall get the reputation of mixing up our
dough with human grease, and if perchance a hair is found, it will
immediately be said that it came from the dead man's beard."
Mahmûd, a youth of about twenty, who partook of his father's
insensibility and coolness, and who, moreover, had a great deal of dry
humour and ready wit, looked upon the incident in the light of a good
joke, and broke out into a hearty laugh when he saw the ugly picture
which the grinning head made, set in its earthen frame.
"Let us pop it into the shop of Kior Ali, the barber, opposite," said
the youth; "he is just beginning to open it, and as he has but one eye,
we shall be better able to do so without being seen. Do, father," said
Mahmûd, "let me; nobody shall discover me; and let it be done before
there is more daylight."
The father consented; and Mahmûd catching the moment when the barber had
walked to the corner of the street to perform certain ablutions, stepped
into his shop, and placed the head on a sort of takcheh, or bracket on
the wall, arranged some shaving towels about it, as if it had been a
customer ready seated to be shaved, and, with a boy's mischief in his
heart, stepped back to his oven again, to watch the effects which this
new sort of customer would have upon the blind barber.
[Illustration: O mercy! mercy! cried Kior Ali. 24.jpg]
Kior Ali hobbled into his shop, which was but ill lighted by a
glimmering of daylight that hardly pierced through the oil-papered
windows, and looking about him, saw this figure, as he supposed, seated
against the wall ready to be operated upon.
"Ha! peace be unto you!" said he to it: "you are rather early this
morning; I did not see you at first. My water is not yet hot. Oh, I
see you want your head shaved! but why do you take off your _fese_
(skull-cap) so soon? you will catch cold." Then he paused. "No answer,"
said the barber to himself. "I suppose he is dumb, and deaf too perhaps.
Well, I am half blind: so we are nearly upon equal terms: however, if I
were even to lose my other eye," addressing himself to the head, "I dare
say, my old uncle, I could shave you for all that; for my razor would
glide as naturally over your head, as a draught of good wine does over
my throat."
He went methodically about his preparations; he took down his tin basin
from a peg, prepared his soap, then stropped his razor on the long bit
of leather that was fastened to his girdle. Having made his lather, he
walked up to the supposed customer, holding the basin in his left hand,
whilst his right was extended to sprinkle the first preparation of water
on the sconce. No sooner had he placed his hand on the cold head, than
he withdrew it, as if he had been burnt. "Eh! why, what's the matter
with you, friend?" said the barber; "you are as cold as a piece of ice."
But when he attempted a second time to lather it, down it came with a
terrible bounce from the shelf to the floor, and made the poor shaver
jump quite across his shop with the fright.
"Aman! aman! O mercy, mercy!" cried Kior Ali, as he thrust himself into
the furthermost corner without daring to move: "take my shop, my razors,
my towels,--take all I have; but don't touch my life! If you are the
Shaitan, speak; but excuse my shaving you!"
But when he found that all was hushed after the catastrophe, and that
nothing was to be feared, he approached the head and taking it up by the
lock of hair at the top, he looked at it in amazement. "A head, by all
the Imâms!" said he, accosting it: "and how did you get here? Do you
want to disgrace me, you filthy piece of flesh? but you shall not!
Although Kior Ali has lost one eye, yet his other is a sharp one, and
knows what it is about. I would give you to the baker Hassan there, if
his rogue of a son, who is now looking this way, was not even sharper
than this self-same eye; but now I think of it, I will take you where
you can do no harm. The Giaour Yanaki, the Greek _kabobchi_ [80] (roast
meat man), shall have you, and shall cut you up into mincemeat for his
infidel customers." Upon this Kior Ali, drawing in one hand, in which
he carried the head, through the slit on the sides of his _beniche_, or
cloak, and taking up his pipe in the other, he walked down two streets
to the shop of the aforesaid Greek.
He frequented it in preference to that if a Mussulman, because he could
here drink wine with impunity. From long practice he knew precisely
where the provision of fresh meat was kept, and as he entered the shop,
casting his eye furtively round, he threw the head in a dark corner,
behind one of the large sides of a sheep that was to be used for the
kabobs if the day. No one saw him perform this feat; for the morning
was still sufficiently obscure to screen him. He lighted his pipe at
Yanaki's charcoal fire, and as a pretext for his visit, ordered a dish
of meat to be sent to him for breakfast; a treat to which he thought
himself fully entitled after his morning's adventure.
Yanaki, meanwhile, having cleaned his platters, put his skewers in
order, lit his fires, made his sherbets, and swept out his shop, went to
the larder for some meat for the shaver's breakfast. Yanaki was a
true Greek:--cunning, cautious, deceitful; cringing to his superiors,
tyrannical towards his inferiors; detesting with a mortal hatred his
proud masters, the Osmanlies, yet fawning, flattering, and abject
whenever any of them, however low in life, deigned to take notice of
him. Turning over his stock, he looked about for some old bits that
might serve the present purpose, muttering to himself that any carrion
was good enough for a Turk's stomach. He surveyed his half sheep from
top to bottom; felt it, and said, "No, this will keep"; but as he turned
up its fat tail, the eye of the dead man's head caught his eye, and made
him start, and step back some paces. "As ye love your eyes," exclaimed
he, "who is there?" Receiving no answer, he looked again, and again;
then nearer, then, thrusting his hand among sheep's heads and trotters,
old remnants of meat, and the like, he pulled out the head--the horrid
head--which he held extended at arm's length, as if he were afraid it
would do him mischief. "Anathemas attend your beard!" exclaimed Yanaki,
as soon as he discovered, by the tuft of hair on the top, that it had
belonged to a Mussulman, "Och! if I had but every one of your heads in
this manner, ye cursed race of Omar! I would make kabobs of them, and
every cur in Constantinople should get fat for nothing. May ye all come
to this end! May the vultures feed on your carcasses! and may every
Greek have the good fortune which has befallen me this day, of having
one of your worthless skulls for his football!" Upon which, in his rage,
he threw it down and kicked it from him; but recollecting himself he
said, "But, after all, what shall I do with it? If it is seen here, I am
lost for ever: nobody will believe but what I have killed a Turk."
[Illustration: To where the dead body of a Jew lay extended. 25.jpg]
All of a sudden he cried out, in a sort of malicious ecstasy, "'Tis well
I remembered,--the Jew! the Jew!--a properer place for such a head was
never thought or heard of; and there you shall go, thou vile remnant of
a Mahomedan!"
Upon which he seized it, and hiding it under his coat, ran with it down
the street to where the dead body of a Jew lay extended, with its head
placed immediately between its legs.
In Turkey, you must know, when a Mahomedan is beheaded, his head is
placed under his arm, by way of an honourable distinction from the
Christian or Jew, who, when a similar misfortune befalls them, have
theirs inserted between their legs, as close to the seat of dishonour as
possible.
It was in that situation then that Yanaki placed the Turk's head,
putting it as near, cheek by jowl, with the Jew's, as the hurry of the
case would allow. He had been able to effect this without being seen,
because the day was still but little advanced, and no one stirring;
and he returned to his shop, full of exultation at having been able to
discharge his feelings of hatred against his oppressors, by placing
one of their heads on the spot in nature, which, according to his
estimation, was the most teeming with opprobrium.
The unfortunate sufferer on this occasion had been accused of stealing
and putting to death a Mahomedan child (a ceremony in their religion,
which they have been known to practice both in Turkey and Persia),
and which created such an extraordinary tumult among the mob of
Constantinople, that, in order to appease it, he had been decapitated.
His execution had taken place purposely before the door of a wealthy
Greek, and the body was ordered to remain there three days before it
was permitted to be carried away for interment. The expectation that the
Greek would be induced to pay down a handsome sum, in order that this
nuisance might be removed from his door, and save him from the ill luck
which such an object is generally supposed to bring, made the officer
entrusted with the execution prefer this spot to every other. But,
careless of the consequences, the Greek shut up the windows of
his house, determined to deprive his oppressors of their expected
perquisite; and so the dead Jew remained exposed his full time. Few
excepting those of the true faith ventured to approach the spot, fearful
that the Mohamedan authorities would, in their wanton propensities to
heap insults upon the Giaours, oblige some one of them to carry the
carcass to the place of burial; and thus the horrid and disgusting
object was left abandoned to itself, and this had given an opportunity
to the kabobchi, Yanaki, to dispose of the head in the manner above
related, unseen and unmolested. But when, as the day advanced, and as
the stir of the streets became more active, this additional head was
discovered, the crowd, which gathered about it, became immense. It was
immediately rumoured that a miracle had been performed; for a dead Jew
was to be seen with two heads. The extraordinary intelligence flew from
mouth to mouth, until the whole city was in an uproar, and all were
running to see the miracle. The Sanhedrim immediately pronounced that
something extraordinary was about to happen to their persecuted race.
Rabbins were to be seen running to and fro, and their whole community
was now poured around the dead body, in expectation that he would
perhaps arise, put on his heads, and deliver them from the grip of their
oppressors.
But as ill luck would have it for them, a Janissary, who had mixed
in the crowd and had taken a close survey of the supernumerary head,
exclaimed in a mixture of doubt and amazement, "Allah, Allah, il Allah!
these are no infidel's heads. One is the head of our lord and master,
the Aga of the Janissaries." Upon which, seeing more of his companions,
he called them to him and making known his discovery, they became
violent with rage, and set off to communicate the intelligence to their
Orta.
The news spread like wildfire throughout the whole of the corps of the
Janissaries, and a most alarming tumult was immediately excited: for it
seems that it was unknown in the capital that their chief, to whom they
were devotedly attached, and one of their own selection, had been put to
death.
"What!" said they, "is it not enough to deal thus treacherously with
us, and deprive us of a chief to whom we are attached; but we must
be treated with the greatest contempt that it is possible for men to
receive? What! the head of our most noble Aga of the Janissaries to
be placed upon the most ignoble part of a Jew! what are we come to?
We alone are not insulted; the whole of Islam is insulted, degraded,
debased! No: this is unheard-of insolence, a stain never to be wiped
off, without the extermination of the whole race! And what dog has done
this deed? How did the head get there? Is it that dog of a Vizier's
work, or has the Reis Effendi and those traitors of Frank ambassadors
been at work? _Wallah, Billah, Tallah!_ by the holy Caaba, by the beard
of Osman, and by the sword of Omar, we will be revenged!"
We must leave the tumult to rage for a short time; we must request
the reader to imagine a scene, in which the Jews are flying in all
directions, hiding themselves with great precaution against enraged
Turks, who with expressions like those just mentioned in their mouths,
are to be seen walking about in groups, armed to their teeth with
pistols and scimitars, and vowing vengeance upon everything which came
in their way. He must imagine a city of narrow streets and low houses,
thronged with a numerous population, dresses the most various in shape
and the most lively in colours, all anxious, all talking, all agog as if
something extraordinary was to happen; in the midst of whom I will leave
him, to take a look into the interior of the sultan's seraglio, and
to inquire in what his eminency himself had been engaged since we last
noticed him.
On the very same night of the tailor's attendance, the sultan had given
a secret order for taking off the head of the Aga of the Janissaries
(the fomenter of all the disturbances which had lately taken place among
his corps, and consequently their idol); and so anxious was he about its
execution, that he had ordered it to be brought to him the moment it was
off. The man entrusted with the execution, upon entering the room
where he had been directed to bring the head, seeing some one seated,
naturally took him for the sultan, and, without daring to look up,
immediately placed the burden at his feet, with the prostrations which
we have ready described as having been performed before the tailor. The
sultan, who not a minute before had taken away the bundle containing
the dervish's dress, had done so in the intention of deceiving his slave
Mansouri himself; so anxious was he of being unknown in his new disguise
even to him; and intended to have substituted another in its stead;
but not calculating either upon the reception of the head, or upon
Mansouri's immediate return to the tailor, he was himself completely
puzzled how to act when he found the tailor was gone, led off by his
slave. To have sent after them would have disconcerted his schemes, and
therefore he felt himself obliged to wait Mansouri's return, before he
could get an explanation of what had happened; for he knew that they
would not have gone away without the dress, and that dress he had then
in his possession. In the meanwhile, anxious and impatient to know
what had become of the expected head, he sent for the officer who
was entrusted with the execution; and the astonishment of both may be
imagined when an explanation took place.
"By my beard!" exclaimed the sultan, having thought awhile within
himself; "by my beard, the tailor must have got the head!"
His impatience for Mansouri's return then became extreme. In vain he
fretted, fumed, and cried "Allah! Allah!" It did not make the slave
return a minute the sooner, who, good man, would have gone quietly to
rest had he not been called upon to appear before the sultan.
As soon as he was within hearing, he called out, "Ahi! Mansouri,
run immediately to the tailor--he has got the head of the Aga of the
Janissaries instead of the dervish's dress--run, fetch it without loss
of time, or something unfortunate will happen!" He then explained
how this untoward event had occurred. Mansouri now, in his turn, felt
himself greatly embarrassed; for he only knew the road to the tailor's
stall, but was totally unacquainted with his dwelling-house. However,
rather than excite his master's anxiety in a higher degree, he set off
in quest of the tailor, and went straight to his stall, in the hopes of
hearing from the neighbours where his house was. It was too early in the
day for the opening of the Bezesten, and except a coffee-house that had
just prepared for the reception of customers, where he applied and could
gain no intelligence, he found himself completely at a standstill. By
the greatest good luck, he recollected Babadul had told him that he
was the muezzin to the little mosque in the fish-market, and thither he
immediately bent his steps. The azan, or morning invitation to prayers,
was now chanting forth from all the minarets, and he expected that he
might catch the purloiner of his head in the very act of inviting the
faithful to prayers.
As he approached the spot, he heard an old broken and tremulous voice,
which he imagined might be Babadul's, breaking the stillness of the
morning by all the energy of its lungs; and he was not mistaken, for as
he stood under the minaret, he perceived the old man walking round the
gallery which encircles it, with his hand applied to the back of his
ear, and with his mouth wide open, pouring out his whole throat in the
execution of his office. As soon as the tailor saw Mansouri making signs
to him, the profession of faith stuck in his throat; and between the
fright of being brought to account for the head, and the words which he
had to pronounce, it is said that he made so strange a jumble, that some
of the stricter Mussulmans, his neighbours, who were paying attention to
the call, professed themselves quite scandalized at his performance. He
descended with all haste, and locking the door after him which leads up
the winding staircase, he met Mansouri in the street. He did not wait
to be questioned respecting the fate of the horrid object, but at once
attacked the slave concerning the trick, as he called it, which had been
put upon him.
"Are you a man," said he, "to treat a poor Emir like me in the manner
you have done, as if my house was a charnel-house? I suppose you will
ask me the price of blood next!"
"Friend," said Mansouri, "what are you talking about? do not you see
that it has been a mistake?"
"A mistake, indeed!" cried the tailor, "a mistake done on purpose to
bring a poor man into trouble. One man laughs at my stupid beard, and
makes me believe that I am to make a suit of clothes for him--another
takes away the pattern--and a third substitutes a dead man's head for
it. Allah! Allah! I have got into the hands of a pretty nest of rogues,
a set of ill-begotten knaves!"
Upon which Mansouri placed his hand upon the tailor's mouth, and said,
"Say no more, say no more; you are getting deeper into the dirt. Do you
know whom you are abusing."
"I know not, nor care not," answered Babadul; "all I know is that
whoever gives me a dead man's head for a suit of clothes can only be an
infidel dog."
"Do you call God's viceregent upon earth, you old demi-stitching,
demi-praying fool, an infidel dog?" exclaimed Mansouri in a rage, which
entirely made him forget the precaution he had hitherto maintained
concerning his employer. "Are your vile lips to defile the name of him
who is the _Alem penah_, the refuge of the world? What dirt are you
eating, what ashes are you heaping on your head? Come, no more words;
tell me where the dead man's head is, or I will take yours of in his
stead."
Upon hearing this, the tailor stood with his mouth wide open, as if the
doors of his understanding had just been unlocked.
"_Aman, aman,_ Mercy, mercy, O Aga!" cried Babadul to Mansouri, "I was
ignorant of what I was saying. Who would have thought it? Ass, fool,
dolt, that I am, not to have known better. _Bismillah!_ in the name or
the Prophet, pray come to my house; your steps will be fortunate, and
your slave's head will touch the stars."
"I am in a hurry, a great hurry," said Mansouri. "Where is the head, the
head of the Aga of the Janissaries?"
When the tailor heard whose head it had been, and recollected what he
and his wife had done with it, his knees knocked under him with fear,
and he began to exude from every pore.
"Where is it, indeed?" said he. "Oh! what has come upon us! Oh! what
cursed _kismet_ (fate) is this?"
"Where is it?" exclaimed the slave, again and again, "where is it? speak
quick!"
The poor tailor was completely puzzled what to say, and kept floundering
from one answer to another until he was quite entangled as in a net.
"Have you burnt it?"
"No."
"Have you thrown it away?"
"No."
"Then in the name of the Prophet what have you done with it? Have you
ate it."
"No."
"Is it lying in your house?"
"No."
"Is it hiding at any other person's house?"
"No."
Then at last quite out of patience, the slave Mansouri took Babadul by
his beard, and shaking his head for him, exclaimed with a roar, "Then
tell me, you old dotard! what is it doing?"
"It is baking," answered the tailor, half choked: "I have said it."
"Baking! did you say?" exclaimed the slave, in the greatest amazement;
"what did you bake it for? Are you going to eat it?"
"True, I said: what would you have more?" answered Babadul, "it is now
baking." And then he gave a full account of what he and his wife had
done in the sad dilemma in which they had been placed.
"Show me the way to the baker's," said Mansouri; "at least, we will get
it in its singed state, if we can get it in no other. Whoever thought of
baking the head of the Aga of the Janissaries? _Allah il allah!_"
They then proceeded to the baker Hassan's, who was now about taking his
bread from his oven. As soon as he became acquainted with their errand,
he did not hesitate in telling all the circumstances attending the
transmission of the head from the pipkin to the barber's bracket; happy
to have had an opportunity of exculpating himself of what might possibly
have been brought up against him as a crime.
The three (Mansouri, the tailor, and the baker) then proceeded to the
barber's, and inquired from him what he had done with the head of his
earliest customer.
Kior Ali, after some hesitation, made great assurances that he
looked upon this horrid object as a donation from Eblis himself, and
consequently that he had thought himself justified in transferring it
over to the Giaour Yanaki, who, he made no doubt, had already made his
brother-infidels partake of it in the shape of kabobs. Full of wonder
and amazement, invoking the Prophet at each step, and uncertain as to
the result of such unheard-of adventures, they then added the barber to
their party, and proceeded to Yanaki's cook-shop.
The Greek, confounded at seeing so many of the true believers enter his
house, had a sort of feeling that their business was not of roast meat,
but that they were in search of meat of a less savoury nature. As soon
as the question had been put to him concerning the head, he stoutly
denied having seen it, or knowing anything at all concerning it.
The barber showed the spot where he had placed it, and swore it upon the
Koran.
Mansouri had undertaken the investigation of the point in question, when
they discovered symptoms of the extraordinary agitation that prevailed
in the city in consequence of the discovery which had been made of the
double-headed Jew, and of the subsequent discovery that had produced
such great sensation among the whole corps of Janissaries.
Mansouri, followed by the tailor, the baker, and the barber, then
proceeded to the spot where the dead Israelite was prostrate; and there,
to their astonishment, they each recognized their morning visitor--the
head so long sought after.
Yanaki, the Greek, in the meanwhile, conscious of what was likely to
befall him, without loss of time gathered what money he had ready at
hand, and fled the city.
"Where is the Greek?" said Mansouri, turning round to look for him in
the supposition that he had joined his party; "we must all go before the
sultan."
"I dare say he is run off," said the barber. "I am not so blind but I
can see that he it is who gifted the Jew with his additional head."
Mansouri now would have carried off the head; but surrounded as it was
by a band of enraged and armed soldiers, who vowed vengeance upon him
who had deprived them of their chief, he thought it most prudent to
withdraw. Leading with him his three witnesses, he at once proceeded to
the presence of his master.
When Mansouri had informed the sultan of all that had happened, where he
had found the head of the Aga of the Janissaries, how it had got there,
and of the tumult it had raised, the reader may better imagine than I
can describe the state of the monarch's mind. To tell the story with all
its particulars he felt would be derogatory to his dignity, for it was
sure to cover him with ridicule; but at the same time to let the matter
rest as it now stood was impossible, because the tumult would increase
until there would be no means of quelling it, and the affair might
terminate by depriving him of his crown, together with his life.
He remained in a state of indecision for some time, twisting up the
ends of his mustachios, and muttering Allah! Allah! in low ejaculations,
until at length he ordered the prime vizier and the mûfti to his
presence.
Alarmed by the abruptness of the summons, these two great dignitaries
arrived at the imperial gate in no enviable state of mind; but when the
sultan had informed them of the tumult then raging in the capital, they
resumed their usual tranquillity.
After some deliberation it was resolved, that the tailor, the baker, the
barber, and the kabobchi should appear before the tribunal of the mûfti,
accused of having entered into a conspiracy against the Aga of the
Janissaries, and stealing his head, for the purposes of baking, shaving,
and roasting it, and that they should be condemned to pay the price
of his blood; but as the kabobchi had been the immediate cause of the
tumult by treating the head with such gross and unheard-of insult, and
as he was a Greek and an infidel, it was further resolved that the Mûfti
should issue a _fetwah_, authorizing his head to be cut off: and placed
on the same odious spot where he had exposed that of the Aga of the
Janissaries.
It was then agreed between the sultan and his grand vizier, that in
order to appease the Janissaries a new Aga should be appointed who was
agreeable to them, and that the deceased should be buried with becoming
distinction. All this (except killing the Greek, who had fled) was done,
and tranquillity again restored to the city. But it must further be
added to the honour of the sultan, that he not only paid every expense
which the tailor, the baker, and the barber were condemned to incur, but
also gave them each a handsome reward for the difficulties into which
they had so unfortunately been thrown.
I have much curtailed the story, particularly where Mansouri proceeds to
relate to the sultan the fate of the head, because, had I given it with
all the details the dervish did, it would have been over long. Indeed
I have confined myself as much as possible to the outline; for to have
swelled the narrative with the innumerable digressions of my companion a
whole volume would not have contained it. The art of a story-teller
(and it is that which marks a man of genius) is to make his tale
interminable, and still to interest his audience. So the dervish assured
me; and added, that with the materials of the one which I have attempted
to repeat, he would bind himself to keep talking for a whole moon, and
still have something to say.