manifesting any particular joy, although, she felt a very sincere
friendship for her intended husband, and treated him with great
respect and attention, as she did not forget in her prosperity how
much she had owed to him in the time of misfortune. The first days and
weeks after the ceremony of betrothal were devoted to recreation and
amusement, after which he was formally introduced by the king to the
council, and instructed in the business of the state. The king and
councillors had soon reason to wonder at the acuteness of his judgment
in difficult cases, and above all, at his quick perception of right
and order. Throughout the country, the justice and wisdom of the
king's future son-in-law were praised, and it was hoped that fortune
would permit him to rule over the land. A whole year had now elapsed,
and the day was fast approaching when he was to marry the princess and
ascend the throne. One day, as usual, he sought his betrothed, the
princess Jasmin, in her apartments. He happened to enter very rapidly
after his announcement by the attendant, and saw the princess hastily
wiping her eyes; and as he drew nearer, he perceived the traces of her
tears. Sympathising with her, he asked the cause of her grief; she
tried to avoid answering him, but as he continued to urge her, she at
last said, "I dare tell you why these tears flow, because you are good
and compassionate, and will not consider it a crime that I have a
feeling and constant heart. You know that I was formerly beloved by
prince Mesoud, the son of the neighbouring king; I related to you that
this prince was changed into a black bird by the enchanter, and flew
from the ship to the promontory of the island where our country seat
was situated. Now I must tell you that I grieve so much the more about
this prince's fate, as from my own change I can compassionate his
mournful condition. I could not repress the desire to ascertain his
fate, and I have obtained certain news of his present condition, by
the secret knowledge of a certain wise man. I have learned that he
still lives in his new form, and that he has flown away, from fear of
the machinations of the demon hunter, called among us Dolda Waldas,
and is now in far distant regions; and that it is ordained by fate
that he shall never regain his human form if I give my hand to another
husband. Sorrow at his mournful destiny has drawn these tears from my
eyes, the traces of which you observed."
This narrative made a deep impression on Medjeddin; he discovered that
Jasmin had acceded to her father's wish only from gratitude and filial
obedience, whilst her affections were still fixed on the absent
prince. He saw that he could purchase the good fortune of being the
husband of the noble princess, and son-in-law of the great king Omar,
and after him king of Zanguebar, only by the misfortunes of prince
Mesoud. He asked himself if this were right, and was obliged to
confess that justice and honour were opposed to it. He saw that the
intoxication of good fortune had hitherto blinded him. Then the
remembrance of his father came before him, and his imagination
pictured him pining away at the uncertainty of his son's fate. He
bitterly reproached himself for his long forgetfulness, and for not
having sent an embassy to announce his safe arrival in Zanguebar.
Scarcely had these thoughts and feelings arisen in his breast, than he
made up his mind: he went to the king, told him all, and begged him to
let him go and fulfil a son's duty to a father whom he had too long
neglected. Omar sighed deeply at these disclosures of his expected
son-in-law; he proposed to send a ship to bring his father, so that he
might spend the rest of his life in sharing his son's good fortune and
companionship. Upon this Medjeddin declared to him, with
determination, that he could never be his son-in-law or successor to
the throne. "I cannot purchase such good fortune at another's
expense," said he; "it was otherwise before I knew the decision of
fate; but now that I know that the prince Mesoud must, through my
happiness, always remain in his present condition, if I thus take away
the possibility of his ever returning to his human form, I should be
in the highest degree culpable, if I did not voluntarily give up my
good fortune."
All the persuasions and arguments of Omar were useless. The
councillors also, and the grand vizier and the governors of the
provinces, begged him to continue in the land, and to take still more
share in the government. He remained firm in his resolution; he
promised the princess, who was astonished at his honourable spirit,
that, as soon as he had seen and comforted his father, he would seek
information about prince Mesoud from all the sages and magicians of
his native land, and that he would try all means to restore him to his
former condition. As he was determined to set out, the king gave him
costly presents, including many precious stones from his treasury, and
provided him with a ship, and all necessaries for the voyage.
The heavens seemed to favour the resolution of the returning son: the
finest weather and most favourable winds seconded his journey, and the
ship anchored in the harbour without accident. He took some servants,
bought some camels, which he loaded with the king's presents, and so
went through Balsora along the river to Bagdad. One beautiful evening
he came near the city, and recognised the very place where he had lain
at the feet of his father and Salek, and listened to their
conversation; their last discourse there returned to his memory.
"Well," said he to himself, "my own experience has indeed proved how
true it is that it is easy for a man to be seduced from virtue into
one false step, if he be not watchful, but relies on his own power: I
thought that my heart was sure to be always right, and neglected the
practice of weighing carefully each action beforehand. In this manner
have I so much forgotten my love for my father, and had nearly
committed a great wrong, having been about to sacrifice to my vanity,
in the intoxication of good fortune, the happiness of the princess and
her betrothed. And you, my father, were also right when you maintained
that a heart accustomed to virtue from early years would only for a
short time wander from the right road. I have myself experienced the
truth of these words, and I therefore thank you with tears that you
brought me up to what was good." As he spoke, he espied a small
solitary hut where the palm-trees used to stand. A venerable man, much
marked by sorrow, appeared at the door; he stood still before the
threshold, and regarded the youth with astonishment; the young man
gazed earnestly at him. Then suddenly recognising the features of the
old man, he threw himself on his knees before him, seized his hand,
and covered it with kisses.
"My father," cried he, "is it so indeed? have you become so much
altered in the course of so few years? that is my fault. Father,
forgive your offending son, who forgot you in the height of
prosperity."
El Kattab extended his other hand to him, blessed him, and said: "Rise
up, my son, rise; he who feels repentance is forgiven." He rose and
threw himself into his father's arms.
When he looked up again, he saw a man approaching, accompanied by a
maiden, whose features he recognised. It was Salek and his daughter
Maryam, Medjeddin's playfellow. After welcoming him, they sat down,
and Medjeddin related to them all that had happened to him since the
memorable evening. He related, truly and candidly, how he had
forgotten his father, and nearly fallen into greater crimes, because
he had been blinded by fortune, by greatness, and by honours. As they
were sitting and conversing, they observed three birds coming up from
a distance, and who seemed to be chasing one another. They soon
perceived that one of them was a black bird flying in great fright
from a large hawk. It was obvious that the hawk would soon have seized
his prey, had he not been pursued in turn by a larger bird, to avoid
which, he was often compelled to dart from side to side: at last they
came to close conflict. The pursued black bird fell into Medjeddin's
lap; the hawk, struck by his pursuer, fell to the ground at their
feet, and was, by the strong hooked bill and sharp claws of his
adversary, soon killed and torn to pieces. Scarcely had this taken
place, when the conqueror changed into a venerable-looking sage. He
turned to Medjeddin, who was quite astonished, and said: "Dip quickly
your forefinger in the blood of this slain bird, and anoint with it
the beak of the black one."
Medjeddin obeyed immediately; and scarcely had he touched the black
bird's beak with the blood, ere it was transformed, and a handsome
youth in kingly dress stood before them.
"Guess who this is," said the genius.
"The prince Mesoud?" asked Medjeddin.
The genius answered, "It is he!" And as he stood looking at the young
prince with astonishment, added, "You do not perceive how and why all
this has happened. I could explain to you all these mysteries; but to
what purpose? It is not necessary for weak men to know the threads by
which their fates are linked together: suffice it to know that it was
necessary for you to perform all this, that you might be tried: you
are found worthy, and Heaven rewards you with Maryam, the early
companion of your youth, now to be your wife."
Then Medjeddin turned towards Maryam, and looked inquiringly at Salek,
her father. This latter said, "With joy I listen to the will of fate;
the highest wish of my heart will now be fulfilled."
"Know," continued the genius, "that the slain bird was the enchanter
who transformed the princess Jasmin and the prince Mesoud. They were
also to pass through trials; thus it was decreed by fate. Because the
enchanter only fulfilled the will of fate from selfish motives, and
carried his revenge beyond it, and contrary to it, the king of the
genii commanded me to slay him."
With these words he disappeared from their sight. They returned now in
happy union to the city; and El Kattab, who had built his hut at the
edge of the wood to be always near the place of his sorrow, dwelt
again in his house with his children. The prince proceeded to
Zanguebar in the same ship that had brought Medjeddin. He was received
there with great joy, and was soon married to his early love. But
Medjeddin's name lived long in their memory, and in that of all the
inhabitants of that island.
When the caliph Haroun al Raschid heard of Medjeddin's return, he had
him called before him, and made him relate his history. The caliph was
so pleased with him that he took him into his palace, and gave him an
important post in his court. His history he caused to be inscribed in
the records of his kingdom. And when Giafar, his aged vizier,
expressed a wish to end his life in quietness, the caliph raised
Medjeddin to the grand viziership; and he continued long in this
office, to the pleasure of his friends and the happiness of the
people, by whom he was greatly beloved.
VIII.
THE STORY OF KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR ATALMULC.
The city of Damascus is one of the most populous and flourishing
cities of the East, and to this capital of a rich kingdom travellers
and caravans arrive from all the countries of the world. Its
sovereigns bear the title of "Prince of the Believers," and their
person is sacred.
Bedreddin-Lolo, king of Damascus, had for his grand vizir a man
celebrated in history for his goodness. This minister, whose real name
was Aswad, but whose great virtues had acquired for him the surname of
Atalmulc[9], was in every way worthy of the high name he had so
obtained; uniting to an indefatigable zeal for the king's service a
vigilance that nothing could deceive, a penetrating and capacious
mind, and a disinterestedness that was universally admired. But he was
surnamed the "sorrowful" vizir, because he appeared to be always
plunged in a profound melancholy. Whatever he did at court was
performed in a grave and serious manner, and he never smiled at the
wittiest remark that was made in his presence.
One day the king entertained this vizir and Sedif-Elmuloak, his
favourite, and related to them, laughing immoderately all the while,
the following misfortunes that happened to a rich old miser.
THE OLD PAIR OF SLIPPERS.
There was at Bagdad a merchant very notorious for his avarice, and his
name was Abou-Cassem-Tambouri. Although he was enormously rich, his
clothes were constantly in rags and tatters, and his turban, made of
coarse stuff, was so dirty that its colour could no longer be
distinguished. Of all his garments, however, his slippers were the
most remarkable; the soles were kept together by large, clumsy nails,
and the upper leathers were pieced in every direction. The famous ship
Argo was not made up of a greater number of separate fragments. During
the ten years of their existence as slippers, the cleverest cobblers
of Bagdad had exerted their utmost skill to tag together their
remains, and had only succeeded by adding piece on piece, by which
means they had become so heavy, that they had passed into a proverb;
and when any one wished to describe something weighty, the slippers of
Cassem were always the object of comparison.
One day, when this merchant was taking a walk in the great bazaar of
the city, a proposal was made to him to buy a considerable quantity of
glass; he agreed to the offer, because it was an advantageous one; and
having heard a few days afterwards, that a perfumer who had fallen
into difficulties had nothing left but some rose-water, which he would
of course be obliged to sell as speedily as possible, Cassem took
advantage of the poor man's misfortune, and purchased it at less than
half its value. This successful stroke of business had put him into
good humour, and instead of giving a great feast, according to the
custom of Eastern merchants, when they have made an excellent bargain,
he thought it better to take a bath, a luxury which he had not enjoyed
for a long time.
Whilst he was taking off his clothes, one of his friends, or at least
one who pretended to be a friend--for it is a rare thing for a miser
to have one--remarked to him that his slippers made him the
laughing-stock of the whole city, and that he certainly ought to
purchase a new pair.
"I have long thought of doing so," replied Cassem; "but my old ones
are not so very bad, and will last me for some time even yet." While
talking, he stripped off his clothes, and entered the bath.
At this juncture the cadi of Bagdad came also to take one. Cassem,
having finished his bath before the judge, went into the first
apartment, where he found his clothes, but not his slippers, which had
disappeared, and in their place was a new pair, which our miser was
convinced were a present from the man who had made him such a friendly
remonstrance about them. With that he made no more ado, but put the
new pair on his own feet, thus sparing himself the pain of buying new
ones, and left the bath overjoyed with his prize.
When the cadi had finished his bath, his slaves looked about in vain,
for their master's slippers, and finding only a wretched pair, which
were immediately recognized as Cassem's, the police ran after the
supposed sharper, and brought him back with the stolen goods upon his
feet. The cadi, after having exchanged the slippers, sent Cassem to
prison; and, as he was well known to be rich as well as avaricious, he
was not allowed to come out of prison until he had paid a handsome
fine.
On returning home the afflicted Cassem threw his slippers, in a rage,
into the Tigris, which flowed beneath his windows. A few days after,
some fishermen, drawing up a net heavier than usual, found in it
Cassem's slippers. The nails, with which they had been patched, had
broken the meshes of the net. The fishermen, out of spite to Cassem
and his slippers, threw them into his room by the open window, and in
their passage they struck the bottles containing the rose-water, and
knocking them down, the bottles were broken and the water totally
lost.
The grief and wrath of Cassem on seeing this may easily be conceived.
He cursed his slippers, and tearing out the hair from his beard, vowed
that they should cause him no more mischief; and so saying, he took a
spade, and digging a hole in his garden, buried them there.
One of his neighbours, however, who had borne him a grudge for a long
time, perceived him turning up the earth, and ran and told the
governor that Cassem had dug up a treasure in his garden. This was
enough to excite the cupidity of the officer, and he sent forthwith
for Cassem. In vain our miser declared that he had not found money,
that he was only employed in burying his slippers. The governor had
calculated on his bribe, and the afflicted Cassem could only regain
his liberty by paying down a second large sum.
Our friend, in an extremity of despair, consigned his slippers to
Shitan[10], and went and threw them into an aqueduct at some distance
from the city, thinking that this time he should hear no more of them.
But as though the evil spirit he had invoked was determined to play
him a trick, the slippers somehow found their way just to the very
pipe of the aqueduct, by this means preventing the flowing of the
water. The persons who had the care of the aqueduct having gone to
ascertain the cause of the stoppage, and to remove it, carried
Cassem's slippers to the governor of the city, declaring them to be
the cause of all the injury. Their unfortunate owner was thrown again
into prison, and condemned to pay a larger fine than before. The
governor who had punished the offence, and who pretended to be
indebted to no one for any thing, returned Cassem's precious slippers
to him again most faithfully; and Cassem, in order to free himself
from all the evils which they had brought upon him, resolved to burn
them. As they were saturated with water, he first of all put them out
to dry in the sun on the terrace of his house. But Cassem's evil
genius had not yet quite done with his tricks, and the last which he
played him was the worst of all.
A neighbour's dog prowling along the terrace on the housetops spied
out the slippers, and, darting at them, carried off one of them. As,
however, the dog was playing with it, and tossing it about, he
contrived to let it fall off the terrace on to the head of a woman who
happened to be passing below. The fright and the violence of the blow
together, made the poor woman quite ill; and her husband having
carried his complaint before the cadi, Cassem was condemned to pay a
fine proportionate to the misfortune of which he had been the cause.
Going home, he took up his slippers, and returned to the cadi with
them in his hands.
"My lord," he exclaimed with a vehemence which excited the judge's
laughter, "my lord, look at the fatal cause of all my troubles! These
abominable slippers have at length reduced me to poverty; be pleased
now to issue a decree, in order that the misfortunes which they will,
no doubt, still continue to occasion, may not be imputed to me."
The cadi could not refuse to comply with this request, and Cassem
learned, at great expense, the danger there is in not changing one's
slippers often enough.
* * * * *
The vizir listened to this story with such a serious countenance that
Bedreddin was astonished.
"Atalmulc," he said, "you are of a strange disposition; you seem
always sad and melancholy. During ten years that you have been in my
service I have never seen the slightest sign of pleasure on your
countenance."
"May it please your majesty," replied the vizir, "you need not be
surprised at it; all have their secret sorrows; there is no man on
earth who is exempt from them."
"Your remark is surely untrue," replied the king. "Do you mean to say
that all men have some secret anxiety preying on their minds, because
you appear in that state? Do you really believe this to be the truth?"
"Yes, your majesty," replied Atalmulc; "such is the condition of all
the children of Adam; our bosoms are incapable of enjoying perfect
ease. Judge of others by yourself. Is your majesty quite contented?"
"Oh, as to me," exclaimed Bedreddin, "that is impossible! I have
enemies to deal with--the weight of an empire on my hands--a thousand
cares to distract my thoughts, and disturb the repose of my life; but
I am convinced that there are in the world a vast number of persons
whose days run on in unruffled enjoyment."
The vizir Atalmulc, however, pertinaciously adhered to what he had
stated, so that the king, seeing him so strongly attached to his
opinion, said to him:
"If no one is exempt from vexation, all the world, at any rate, is not
like you, wholly overcome by affliction. You have made me, however,
very curious to know what it is that has rendered you so pensive and
sorrowful; tell me therefore the reason of your melancholy."
"I shall comply with your majesty's wish," replied the vizir, "and
reveal the cause of my secret cares to you, by relating the history of
my life."
THE HISTORY OF ATALMULC, SURNAMED "THE SORROWFUL VIZIR," AND THE
PRINCESS ZELICA.
I am the only son of a rich jeweller of Bagdad. My father, whose name
was Cogia Abdallah, spared no expense in my education; having from my
earliest infancy hired masters, who taught me the various sciences,
philosophy, law, theology, and more particularly the different
languages of Asia, in order that they might be useful to me in my
travels, if I should ever make any in that part of the world.
Shortly after this my father died, and when the funeral ceremony,
which was magnificent, was over, I took possession of all his immense
property. Instead of giving myself up to the pursuit of pleasure, I
resolved to devote myself to my father's profession. Being well versed
in the knowledge of precious stones, I had reason to believe that I
should succeed in business, and accordingly I went into partnership
with two merchant jewellers of Bagdad, friends of my father, who were
about to undertake a trading expedition to Ormus. At Basra we hired a
vessel, and embarked on our enterprise from the bay which bears the
name of that city.
Our companions on board were agreeable; the ship wafted by favourable
winds glided swiftly through the waves. We passed the time in festive
mirth, and our voyage promised to end as pleasantly as we could
desire, when my two associates gave me a startling proof that they
were not the honourable characters I had supposed. We were just at the
end of our voyage, and being in good spirits on that account, we held
a sort of farewell feast, and did ample justice to some exquisite
wines which we had laid in at Basra. For my part, being in the highest
spirits, I made copious libations, and, on retiring to rest, lay down
on a sofa, without taking off my clothes. In the middle of the night,
while I was buried in profound slumber, my partners took me up in
their arms, and threw me over-board through the cabin window. Death
would seem inevitable under the circumstances, and in truth it is
still impossible for me to imagine how I was fortunate enough to
survive such a catastrophe. The sea was running high at the time, but
the waves, as if Heaven had commanded them to spare me, instead of
overwhelming me, bore me to the foot of a mountain, and cast me
violently on shore. As soon as I recovered the shock, I found myself
safe and sound on the beach, where I passed the remainder of the night
in thanking God for my deliverance, at which I could not sufficiently
wonder.
At break of day I clambered up with great difficulty to the top of the
mountain, which was very steep, and met there with some peasants of
the neighbourhood, who were occupied in collecting crystal, which they
afterwards sold at Ormus. I related to them the danger in which my
life had been placed, and my escape seemed miraculous to them, as well
as to myself. These worthy people took pity on me, gave me part of
their provisions, which consisted of honey and rice, and as soon as
they had finished gathering their crystal, acted as my guides to the
great city of Ormus. I put up at a caravansary, where the first object
that met my eyes was one of my associates.
His surprise was great at seeing a man whom he no doubt believed to be
safely housed in some marine monster's stomach, and he ran off
instantly to find his companion, in order to acquaint him with my
arrival, and to plan how they should receive me. They soon settled as
to their course of proceeding, and, returning to the place where I
was, they took no notice of me, and studiously conducted themselves as
though they had never seen me before.
"O traitors!" I exclaimed, "Heaven frustrated your murderous
intentions, and in spite of your cruelty I am still alive; give me
back instantly all my precious stones; I will no longer associate with
such vile wretches."
On hearing these words, which ought to have overwhelmed them with
shame and remorse, they had the impudence to reply:
"O thief and rogue! who are you, and where do you come from? What
precious stones do you speak of that we have belonging to you?"
So saying, they set on me, and gave me several blows with a stick. I
threatened to complain to the cadi, but they anticipated me by going
to that judge themselves. Bowing down before him, after having
previously taken care to present him with some valuable brilliants,
which no doubt belonged to me, they said to him:
"O lamp of justice! light which dispels the darkness of deceit! We
have recourse to you. We are poor strangers, come from the ends of the
earth to trade here; is it right that a thief should insult us, and
will you permit that he should deprive us by an imposture of what we
have acquired at the risk of our lives, and after running a thousand
dangers?"
"Who is the man of whom you make this complaint?" asked the cadi.
"My lord," they replied, "we do not know him, we never saw him before
this morning."
At this moment I presented myself before the judge, to make my own
complaint, but as soon as they saw me they exclaimed: