A fortunate speculation balances an unlucky one. You must accept all
if you would grow rich. But come, hast thou decided? Wilt thou enter
into partnership with me?"
"I have reflected and prayed," said Ali. "I am very grateful for thy
offers, and Allah will doubtless recompense thee; but prudence forbids
me to accept them. I will never enter into partnership but with one
who is as poor as myself."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, "be no longer then surprised
at thy poverty, since thou refusest the opportunity of enriching
thyself. The traveller who does not stop beneath the first trees he
meets runs the risk of not finding another upon his road, and of
performing the whole journey without enjoying their refreshing shade.
Such a man would have no right to complain of the dust of the roads,
or the heat of the sun."
"I do not complain," replied Ali, "I come, on the contrary, to tell
thee that I live and sleep in peace."
"It is well, it is well," said Eggadi, who had not closed his eyes
till the morning, "it is well, remain as thou art. Instead of gold
pieces, be content to receive rain-drops through thy roof, eat bread
when thou hast any, and go fasting oftener; it concerns me no more."
"I should be a fool," added he internally, "to trouble myself any
longer about the poverty of this man." And he remembered his fine
house, where gilded cakes, a delicious repast, and rich and rare
fruits awaited him.
He ate his meal in company with his sons; then he washed his beard and
hands, rose from the table, and called his wife, his daughters, his
mother, and his grandmother, and said to them, "Women, eat in your
turn; this is for you."
The women respectfully kissed his hands, and proceeded to make their
meal, whilst he went and sat down out of doors, and smoked with his
sons, to whom he spoke as follows whilst a negro waited upon him with
coffee:
"I am about to take another journey. During my absence see to such and
such things, and do not forget any of my orders, if you would not run
the risk of becoming poor, poor--" he was going to say, "as Ali, the
seller of mats," but this name excited too keenly his remorse; he
could not venture to pronounce it.
So that in spite of the good repast of which he had just partaken,
Eggadi felt ill at ease, for the thought was ever recurring to him,
"Ali is poor, his father was rich, and it is I who have unjustly taken
possession of his father's wealth." Meanwhile Eggadi had this very
moderate relief, he might still enjoy the benefit of a doubt as to
whether the father of Ali was really the possessor of the discovered
treasures. However, the coffer left behind the rocks would doubtless
throw a light upon this matter. Eggadi proceeded at once in search of
this coffer; he opened it, and his eyes, dazzled though they were by
the precious objects that met their gaze, were constrained to perceive
at the same time a sheet of parchment, upon which the following words
were very distinctly inscribed:
"All the treasures buried in this spot have been lawfully acquired, or
received in heritage by me, Mustapha Selim. I bequeath them to my only
son, Ali-Benala, who has ever been a faithful servant of Allah, and
respectful towards me. May he, and his children, and his children's
children inherit and enjoy these possessions, to which I add my
benediction."
As soon as Eggadi had read these words a profound sadness took
possession of him, for he could no longer doubt that these hidden
riches were the inheritance of Ali-Benala. If therefore he
appropriated them, he was a despoiler of the poor and the orphan. It
would have been so delightful to have been able to keep up the
illusion, and to say to himself: "This wealth was without an owner;
Allah has been pleased to bestow it on me!" But if Eggadi had never as
yet committed any very culpable actions, he had never done any good
ones, and did not merit the protection of heaven. He dared not doubt
that by keeping unlawful possession of the property of Ali he should
incur the wrath of heaven; at the same time he could not bring himself
to renounce it. He took the coffer, carried it home, meditating by
turns on the uses to which he might turn his great fortune, and on
what might be done by way of compromising his conscience for poor Ali,
his children, and his children's children.
Arrived at his own house, he placed his treasures in a large chest,
which he kept thenceforth in the chamber where he passed his nights.
By day, too, this coffer often served him for a seat; whilst scarce a
day passed without his opening it, to assure himself that nothing had
disappeared. He kept it carefully fastened with the aid of several
locks and a master key, of which he never gave up the possession.
Eggadi contemplated a thousand times these treasures acquired with so
little trouble; if we can call that gained with little trouble which
is purchased at the price of our peace of mind. And each time after
having contemplated them, he would repeat to himself the words of Ali,
"Allah will no doubt recompense thee." "Ah! if he recompenses me as I
deserve," he could not help reflecting, "he will send me great
disasters indeed."
Pursued by the dread of a heavy chastisement, Eggadi became so
miserable in the midst of his fine family and his treasures, that he
formed the project of quitting his country, where the sight of Ali,
his humble house and miserable shop, haunted him incessantly. So he
adjusted his affairs, collected his merchandise, and then communicated
his intention to his children and his servants.
But whilst, spurred on by a secret terror, he was hastening the
preparations for his departure, Allah, on whose will depend all things
on earth and in heaven, visited him with a severe fever, accompanied
with delirium, during which he spoke incessantly of the old camel of
Ali, of concealed treasures, and the vengeance of Heaven.
Salmanazar, an old Jew doctor, had charge of Eggadi; he heard the
incoherent ravings of his patient, and immediately divined them to be
the result of preceding mental anguish. Thanks to the skill acquired
by medical science, and still more to the intuition engendered by the
desire of self-enrichment, the old Jew was not slow in comprehending
that there was a secret relating to a treasure unjustly acquired, and
he saw no reason, moreover, why he should not be a partaker in the
booty.
He found means therefore to remove all the attendants, and
constituting himself sole guardian of the sick man, seated himself by
his bedside and patiently awaited the auspicious moment which should
deliver into his merciless keeping a soul harassed by the stings of
remorse.
This moment at length arrived; Eggadi ceased to be delirious, and as
though awakening from a painful dream, drew a long breath, and cast
looks of inquiry around him.
Salmanazar, who had been watching for this opportunity, then
exclaimed: "Eggadi! Eggadi! you Mussulmans cry, 'God is great,' but
you do not believe it, for if you did, how could you dare enrich
yourselves at the expense of the poor man and his children? Thou art
rich, Eggadi, and Ali is poor."
"What sayst thou?" cried the sick man, distending his eyes with terror
as dismal recollections thronged upon him.
"I say that thou hast a treasure which should not belong to thee, and
that this is why thou hast the fever, and why moreover thou wilt die,
unless I save thy life by my profound science. Restitution must be
made; nay, if indeed thou wert to do good with this treasure to poor
Jews like me, God would perhaps pardon thee, but thou takest care to
give us nothing. If I cure thee what will be my profit? a few
miserable doubloons, which I shall have all the same if thou diest;
for thy sons will give them me, and if they refused to pay me, I
should summon them before the cadi. Thus, whether thou livest or
whether thou diest is much the same to me. Nevertheless, if I had a
mind I could easily cure thee, and cause thee still to live, that thy
days might be long upon the earth. But what profit would this be to
me?"
"Cure me, cure me," cried the sick man, "and I will give thee far more
than my sons would give thee, far more than the cadi would grant thee
did my children refuse thee payment. I will give thee twenty
doubloons; nay, fifty. That would be a fine thing for thee."
"It would be a much better thing for thyself," chuckled Salmanazar.
"Of what use will thy doubloons be to thee when thou art dead? I
demand five hundred doubloons for curing thee, and I will have them at
once, for in an hour's time I shall demand a thousand, and if you then
delay deciding there will be no longer any time to choose."
"A thousand doubloons!" exclaimed the patient; "I will not even give
thee five hundred. If I did,--Allah would not pardon me the more, even
supposing I really am guilty of what thou suggested."
"Well, then, thou wilt die," rejoined Salmanazar, settling himself
again in his chair.
The chamber of the sick man was gloomy. A small lamp cast a fitful
light upon one corner, while the rest seemed inhabited by nothing but
dim shadows. An odour of fever and its remedies pervaded the
atmosphere; out of doors,--for it was night,--the dismal cry of the
jackals seeking food resounded, whilst the deep baying of the
neighbouring dogs was heard without intermission. The weather was
windy and tempestuous. All this but served to increase the deep
depression which filled the soul of Eggadi. He threw a wistful look
around his shadow-haunted room; it fell upon the old Jew who was
watching him askance, his large dark eyes dimmed by ophthalmia, and he
asked himself whether the old man with his prominent nose, yellow
visage, long, lean and withered arms, habited in a scanty and dirty
garment, were not some evil genius come thither to curse him for his
crime, and drag him to the bottomless pit of perdition.
Nevertheless, Eggadi contrived to raise himself up in a sitting
posture on his bed. He collected all his strength, drew a long breath,
sighed feebly, and said:
"Well, I have decided, Salmanazar; give me the remedy which will make
my days long upon the earth."
"Give me first the five hundred doubloons," said Salmanazar.
"I have them not here," replied the sick man.
"Tell me where they are, I will go and get them."
"That is impossible," said Eggadi; "but summon Bankala, my black
slave, he will bring me the key of my coffer, and the coffer itself
which contains my treasures."
"Well and good," replied Salmanazar; and he summoned Bankala.
Eggadi gave some orders to the slave in a language unknown to
Salmanazar, and he disappeared. He returned shortly with two other
slaves, whom he placed like two sentinels by the side of his master's
bed.
"Send away those men," said Salmanazar to the sick man. The latter
replied, "They are needed to go and bring the coffer as soon as
Bankala shall have given us the key; he and I alone know where it is
hidden."
"It is well," said the Jew; and he held his peace, looking alternately
at the sick man and the two slaves.
"What wilt thou do to effect my cure?" began Eggadi to inquire of the
Jew in a doleful tone.
"Thou shalt see--thou shalt see," replied the latter. And they both
awaited the return of the slave with an equal anxiety, which they in
vain strove to conceal.
Bankala made them wait a long time, but when at length he did return,
Ali, the poor seller of mats, followed upon his footsteps. "Arise
quickly," had been the summons of the slave to him; "Eggadi my master
summons thee in the name of Allah, and desires to see thee before he
dies." Ali had hastened to obey. At sight of him the Jew trembled.
Eggadi, on the contrary, felt himself happy and reassured.
"Come hither, Ali," said he; "come and behold a man guilty but
repentant. The example of thy virtues did not suffice to bring me back
to the path of duty: it was necessary that I should be struck by
misfortune. Thanks to Heaven misfortune has befallen me. Ali! Ali! it
was I who bought of thee the old camel which was left thee by thy
father. That camel no doubt aided him in concealing the great wealth
he would fain have bestowed upon thee ere he died. I discovered this
wealth, and I conceived the iniquitous design of keeping it, instead
of restoring it to thee in accordance with the demands of justice. I
was on the point of quitting my country to avoid the further sight of
thy poverty, the unceasing reproach to my crime, when Allah visited me
with a terrible malady, and a still more terrible physician. This
physician, whom thou there beholdest, having discovered my secret,
instead of urging me to the restitution of my ill-acquired fortune,
dreamt only of sharing it with me, and threatened me with death if I
refused the division of the plunder.
"His horrible conduct, his avarice and cruelty combined, have inspired
me with horror, and have shown me to what lengths an inordinate love
of gold may lead. I have mourned for my fault, and have taken a sudden
resolution to repair it. By deceiving this skilful man, I have been
enabled to send for thee, and before him I declare that I render thee
up joyfully all the treasures which are enclosed in the chest upon
which Salmanazar is seated."
Salmanazar started up on hearing these words. How! he had been
actually sitting upon the treasure and had not divined it.
Eggadi continued:
"Consider, Ali, what will be most suitable to bestow upon this Jew. He
demanded of me five hundred doubloons down, or a thousand in an hour's
time, if I desired to live. I think that five hundred blows with a
stick should be his recompense; at the same time I am unworthy to
judge any man in this world. Thou who art just, act towards him as
thou thinkest best, but deign, above all things, to grant me thy
forgiveness."
Ali was of course greatly surprised at all he had just heard. He took
a moment to collect his thoughts and then said:
"Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, I pardon thee willingly; and to prove it, I say
to thee as thou once saidst to me:
"Let us enter into partnership, let us live as brothers, and unite our
children as in the time of the patriarchs. As for Salmanazar, let his
only punishment be to behold the riches he would have forced thee to
share with him, and after having seen them, let him return home
without money and without blows."
The wish of the wise Ali was put into execution. The coffer, the key
of which Eggadi had about him, was opened; and the Jew, though still
trembling with the fear of receiving the blows, could not help eagerly
regarding the gold and precious stones which were revealed to his
cupidity. Then he departed, filled with grief at having missed his
aim, and at not having been himself the fortunate purchaser of the old
camel of Ali. This event was engraven on his memory, and caused him to
regard with looks of eager anxiety all the old camels whom he chanced
to meet. He often stopped before them, and seemed to endeavour to
trace in their movements some mysterious sign which might lead to the
discovery of hidden treasures.
Eggadi, having his conscience at ease, regained his health without the
aid of any other physician. He became the adopted brother of Ali, who
insisted on sharing with him his newly-acquired fortune; and these two
men, their children, and their children's children, continued to live
together wealthy and united.
IX.
THE STORY OF MEDJEDDIN.
Many hundred years ago there lived in the famous city of Bagdad a
retired merchant named El Kattab. The earlier part of his life had
been assiduously devoted to commercial pursuits, in the prosecution of
which he had made many a long journey, and crossed many a sea. In the
course of his wanderings he had not only amassed the wealth he sought,
but, what was better, had stored his mind and memory with the
treasures of wisdom and general information. The property he had
acquired was far from immense, yet it was amply sufficient to enable
him to live in a style of substantial comfort and respectability, and
to devote himself to the darling object of his declining years, the
education and training of his only son.
El Kattab's beard was grey, yet he had not very long passed the prime
of life, and still retained most of the vigour and elasticity of his
earlier years. He was wise enough to be content with the quiet
enjoyments of a moderate affluence, and had no desire to wear out the
rest of his life in the feverish labour of constant acquirement, for
the mere sake of amassing a splendid fortune; therein differing from
too many of his friends, who seemed to forget in their headlong
pursuit of enormous riches, that by the time these might be acquired,
life would be nigh spent, and at any rate all its charms gone, unless
some higher and nobler object had been substituted for that of mere
wealth-getting.
The city of Mossul had been El Kattab's home in his earlier days; but
he quitted it, and took up his abode in Bagdad, partly in order to be
near his friend Salek, with whom he had been on the most intimate
terms from his youth; partly, too, for the sake of his son's
education, as he expected that a residence in the latter city would
produce good and lasting impressions on the mind of the young man; for
the great city of Bagdad was at this time under the rule of the
far-famed caliph Haroun al Raschid, and was the resort of strangers
from all parts of the globe; and here artists and sages of all
countries mingled with each other. Nor had El Kattab conceived a vain
expectation. His son, whose name was Medjeddin, was a young man gifted
with good natural abilities, and endowed with a pure and noble heart.
He used every opportunity to extend his knowledge and improve his
disposition; nor was he deficient in bodily exercises and warlike
accomplishments: so that through good discipline he became powerful in
body and strong in mind. He was not only, therefore, as was natural
enough, the joy and pride of his father, but was loved and esteemed by
all who knew him, and was often pointed out by the elders, to others
of his own age, as an example worthy of imitation. As the father saw
his greatest treasure in the person of his son, so the latter, with
all the fervour of a well-directed mind, clung affectionately to his
father.
Some years passed over them in this mutual love, rendered still more
delightful by the companionship of their friend Salek, and their
happiness was full and uninterrupted. It chanced one day that El
Kattab and Salek were taking their accustomed walk in the gardens
adjoining the city in front of the gate. The heat of the summer's day
had been diminished by a gentle rain, and the two strolled on, in
happy conversation, and extended their walk beyond its usual length.
They passed the last garden, and wandered on over some green
meadow-land, behind a little wood, at the entrance of which stood high
palms, whose shadows invited to repose, while a fresh spring gushed
from a neighbouring rock, and meandered among the verdant herbage and
variegated flowers.
The two friends lay down in the shade, and conversed on the perils to
which even the most virtuous men are subject, particularly enlarging
on the danger of an over-confidence in the rectitude of our own
intentions, and on the comparative ease with which a sudden impulse
will sometimes hurry even the best of men, who possesses an
overweening reliance on his own firmness of purpose, into a false or
even fatal step in life.
"I have known men," observed Salek, "who, although among the best and
noblest I have ever met in the course of my life, have been led
unawares, by too great self-confidence, into an action which they
might easily have avoided by moderate caution, but which has proved
the beginning of a long chain of evils, ending at last in their
complete ruin."
El Kattab, on the contrary, maintained that a heart accustomed from
early youth to virtue, would not be easily led to commit a serious
fault; and even if this should happen, that it would readily find its
way back from a slight error to the right road. They continued to talk
on these subjects, each endeavouring to confirm his assertions by
examples, whilst Medjeddin, stretched beside them, listened with
attention to their conversation. Suddenly he sprang to his feet, and
ran quickly up the woody hill, at the foot of which they were
reposing. His father and Salek looked after him surprised, as they
could not comprehend what had occasioned his sudden disappearance.
They then saw that a little bird, as white as snow, was flying before
him, which he was trying to catch. He was soon lost to their view
among the bushes; they called to him to come back; but in vain. They
waited for a quarter of an hour, and still Medjeddin did not return.
Growing uneasy about him, they advanced in the direction in which he
had disappeared, but could discover nothing. At last the sun set; then
Salek said, "Let us return home: your son is a strong, active young
man; he will easily find his way back to the city. Perhaps he has gone
home some other way, and will be there before us."
After much opposition, the father was persuaded to return without his
son; but he was still full of anxiety which no arguments could
overcome. When they arrived at the city, his friend accompanied him to
his house. They entered hastily, and inquired for Medjeddin: but he
had not returned. Salek's cheering suggestions were of no more avail;
El Kattab would no longer listen to him, but threw himself weeping on
his couch. Salek rebuked him for this weakness, and represented to him
that it might easily have happened that the young man had lost his way
in the pursuit of the bird, and could not recover the track all at
once.
"He has no doubt found a shelter where he will remain till morning,"
continued he; "he will return here early to-morrow, and will laugh
heartily at your fears."
When Salek was gone, El Kattab gave free scope to his feelings. He
wept aloud, tore his beard, and dashed himself upon the ground, like a
madman. The slaves stood around in motionless astonishment, surprised
to see their master exhibiting such passionate emotion; others sought
to console him, but fruitlessly; at length they all began to cry and
bewail with him for his dear son, who was beloved by them all. After a
sleepless night, the afflicted father rose not at all quieted. He
wished early in the morning to send messengers in all directions; but
Salek, who had come to inquire if the lost one had returned home,
explained to him how foolish this step would be.
"Consider," said he, "that your Medjeddin has most probably found a
night's lodging, and slept better than you. Supposing him, therefore,
to be at any probable distance, even if he had set out on his way at
daybreak, he could hardly be here now: if you send these messengers
after him, he may perhaps come home by a shorter path, while they will
be searching for him in vain; wait at least till mid-day."
El Kattab yielded; he appointed the messengers to be ready at noon,
and in the meanwhile walked through the gardens and in the country
around the city, where they had been on the preceding day. His friend
accompanied him, although he pointed out that Medjeddin might, in the
interval, have reached home while they were walking, and that El
Kattab was thus perhaps giving himself more trouble than was
necessary.
"I have yielded to you in the rest," replied El Kattab; "let me at
least in this instance have my own will, and walk here."