THE PACHA OF MANY TALES
by
CAPTAIN MARRYAT
List of Tales
Story of the Camel-Driver
Story of the Greek Slave
Story of the Monk
Story of the Monk (continued)
Huckaback
Manuscript of the Monk
Third Voyage of Huckaback
Fourth Voyage of Huckaback
Fifth Voyage of Huckaback
Sixth Voyage of Huckaback
The Last Voyage of Huckaback
The Scarred Lover
The Story of Hudusi
Tale of the English Sailor
The Water-Carrier
The Wondrous Tale of Han
Story of the Old Woman
Prefatory Note
The Pacha of Many Tales, as indeed its title suggests, is constructed in
direct imitation of the _Arabian Nights_. A Pacha of olden days,
enchanted by the stories of Schezehezerade, becomes emulous of the great
Haroun, and determines to procure his own stock of entertainment. By the
assistance of a wily barber-vizier he succeeds in the attempt, and
listens with greedy credulity to the marvellous histories herein set
forth.
On one occasion an English sailor is dragged into the august presence,
and demands, with all the dogged independence of his race, the reasons
for such treatment.
"You must tell lies, and you will have gold," replies the vizier.
"Tell lies," says Jack Tar, "that is, spin yarns. Well, I can do that."
The volume before us could not be more suggestively described. It is a
collection of admirable short stories of intrigue and adventure,
traveller's wonders narrated with a perfect air of good faith and no
regard for truth or probability. All the countries on the globe, and
many existing only in the imagination, are called into requisition to
produce a brilliant phantasmagoria of manners and customs. The stories
move rapidly and defy criticism by the very occasion of their being,
invented to amuse and astonish a jaded autocrat.
Hence we feel no shock in reading of an island where the commonest
utensils are made of gold, a nursery of whales, five months in the
interior of an iceberg, or a journey among the clouds during a
thunderstorm. The demand for brevity strengthens Marryat's style, and
saves him from padding. He is very happy in contriving expediences, and
evinces considerable wit in the conception, for instance, of Yussuf the
water-carrier. Some of the stories, again, are really dramatic, and the
"Second Voyage of Huckaback" (p. 126) reaches a height of weird horror
that recalls, without paling before the thought, certain passages in
_The Ancient Mariner_.
* * * * *
_The Pacha of Many Tales_ was first published in _The Metropolitan
Magazine_, 1831-1835. During its appearance Marryat printed in the same
magazine (in 1833) a drama, _The Monk of Seville_, of which the plot is
almost exactly identical with _The Story of the Monk_ (p. 44). "Port
Royal Tom," the shark, and his Government pension, also appear in _Jacob
Faithful_, Chap. XXV.
_The Pacha of Many Tales_ is here printed, with a few corrections, from
the second edition in 3 vols. A.K. Newman & Co., 1844.
R.B.J
Chapter I
Every one acquainted with the manners and customs of the East must be
aware, that there is no situation of eminence more unstable, or more
dangerous to its possessor, than that of a pacha. Nothing, perhaps,
affords us more convincing proof of the risk which men will incur, to
obtain a temporary authority over their fellow-creatures, than the
avidity with which this office is accepted from the sultan; who, within
the memory of the new occupant, has consigned scores of his predecessors
to the bowstring. It would almost appear, as if the despot but elevated
a head from the crowd, that he might obtain a more fair and
uninterrupted sweep for his scimitar, when he cut it off; only exceeded
in his peculiar taste by the king of Dahomy, who is said to ornament the
steps of his palace with heads, fresh severed, each returning sun, as we
renew the decoration of our apartments from our gay parterres. I make
these observations, that I may not be accused of a disregard to
chronology, in not precisely stating the year, or rather the months,
during which flourished one of a race, who, like the flowers of the
Cistus, one morning in all their splendour, on the next, are strewed
lifeless on the ground to make room for their successors. Speaking of
such ephemeral creations, it will be quite sufficient to say, "There
_was_ a Pacha."
Would you inquire by what means he was raised to the distinction? It is
an idle question. In this world, preeminence over your fellow-creatures
can only be obtained, by leaving others far behind in the career of
virtue or of vice. In compliance with the dispositions of those who
rule, faithful service in the one path or the other will shower honour
upon the subject, and by the breath of kings he becomes ennobled to look
down upon his former equals.
And as the world spins round, the _why_ is of little moment. The honours
are bequeathed, but not the good, or the evil deeds, or the talents by
which they were obtained. In the latter, we have but a life interest,
for the entail is cut off by death. Aristocracy in all its varieties is
as necessary, for the well binding of society, as the divers grades
between the general and the common soldier are essential in the field.
Never then inquire, why this or that man has been raised above his
fellows; but, each night as you retire to bed, thank Heaven that you are
not _a King_.
And if I may digress, there is one badge of honour in our country, which
I never contemplate without serious reflection rising in my mind. It is
the _bloody_ hand in the dexter chief of a baronet,--now often worn, I
grant, by those who, perhaps, during their whole lives have never raised
their hands in anger. But my thoughts have returned to days of yore--the
iron days of _ironed men_, when it _was_ the symbol of faithful service
in the field--when it really was bestowed upon the "hand embrued in
blood;" and I have meditated, whether that hand, displayed with
exultation in this world, may not be held up trembling in the next--in
judgment against itself.
And I, whose memory stepping from one legal murder to another, can walk
dry-footed over the broad space of five-and-twenty years of time,--but
the "damned spots" won't come out--so I'll put my hands in my pockets
and walk on.
Conscience, fortunately or unfortunately, I hardly can tell which,
permits us to form political and religious creeds, most suited to
disguise or palliate our sins. Mine is a military conscience, and I
agree with Bates and Williams, who flourished in the time of Henry V.,
that it is "all upon the King:" that is to say, it was all upon the
king; and now our constitution has become so incomparably perfect, that
"the king can do no wrong;" and he has no difficulty in finding
ministers, who voluntarily impignorating themselves for all his actions
in this world, will, in all probability, not escape from the clutches of
the great _Pawnbroker_ in the next--from which facts I draw the
following conclusions:--
1st. That his Majesty (God bless him!) will go to heaven.
2ndly. That his Majesty's ministers will all go to the devil.
3rdly. That I shall go------on with my story.
As, however, a knowledge of the previous history of our pacha will be
necessary to the development of our story, the reader will in this
instance be indulged. He had been brought up to the profession of a
barber; but, possessing great personal courage, he headed a popular
commotion in favour of his predecessor, and was rewarded by a post of
some importance in the army. Successful in detached service, while his
general was unfortunate in the field, he was instructed to take off the
head of his commander, and head the troops in his stead; both of which
services he performed with equal skill and celerity. Success attended
him, and the pacha, his predecessor, having in his opinion, as well as
in that of the sultan, remained an unusual time in office, by an
accusation enforced by a thousand purses of gold, he was enabled to
produce a bowstring for his benefactor; and the sultan's "firman"
appointed him to the vacant pachalik. His qualifications for office were
all superlative: he was very short, very corpulent, very illiterate,
very irascible, and very stupid.
On the morning after his investment, he was under the hands of his
barber, a shrewd intelligent Greek, Mustapha by name. Barbers are
privileged persons for many reasons: running from one employer to
another to obtain their livelihood, they also obtain matter for
conversation, which, impertinent as it may sometimes be, serves to
beguile the tedium of an operation which precludes the use of any organ
except the ear. Moreover, we are inclined to be on good terms with a
man, who has it in his power to cut our throats whenever he pleases--to
wind up, the personal liberties arising from his profession, render all
others trifling; for the man who takes his sovereign by the nose, cannot
well after that be denied the liberty of speech.
Mustapha was a Greek by birth, and inherited all the intelligence and
adroitness of his race. He had been brought up to his profession when a
slave; but at the age of nineteen, he accompanied his master on board of
a merchant vessel bound to Scio; this vessel was taken by a pirate, and
Demetrius (for such was his real name) joined this band of miscreants,
and very faithfully served his apprenticeship to cutting throats, until
the vessel was captured by an English frigate. Being an active,
intelligent person, he was, at his own request, allowed to remain on
board as one of the ship's company, assisted in several actions, and
after three years went to England, where the ship was paid off. For some
time, Demetrius tried to make his fortune, but without success, and it
was not until he was reduced to nearly his last shilling, that he
commenced the trade of hawking rhubarb about in a box: which speculation
turned so profitable, that he was enabled in a short time to take his
passage in a vessel bound to Smyrna, his own country. This vessel was
captured by a French privateer; he was landed, and, not being considered
as a prisoner, allowed to act as he thought proper. In a short time he
obtained the situation of valet and barber to a "millionaire," whom he
contrived to rob of a few hundred Napoleons, and with them to make his
escape to his own country. Demetrius had now some knowledge of the
world, and he felt it necessary that he should become a True Believer,
as there would be more chance of his advancement in a Turkish country.
He dismissed the patriarch to the devil, and took up the turban and
Mahomet; then quitting the scene of his apostasy, recommenced his
profession of barber in the territory of the pacha; whose good-will he
had obtained previous to the latter's advancement to the pachalik.
"Mustapha," observed the pacha, "thou knowest that I have taken off the
heads of all those who left their slippers at the door of the late
pacha."
"Allah Kebur! God is most powerful! So perish the enemies of your
sublime highness. Were they not the sons of Shitan?" replied Mustapha.
"Very true; but, Mustapha, the consequence is that I am in want of a
vizier; and whom do I know equal to that office?"
"While your sublime highness is pacha, is not a child equal to the
office? Who stumbles, when guided by unerring wisdom?"
"I know that very well," replied the pacha; "but if I am always to
direct him, I might as well be vizier myself; besides, I shall have no
one to blame, if affairs go wrong with the Sultan. Inshallah! please the
Lord, the vizier's head may sometimes save my own."
"Are we not as dogs before you?" replied Mustapha: "happy the man, who,
by offering his own head may preserve that of your sublime highness! It
ought to be the proudest day of his life."
"At all events it would be the last," rejoined the pacha.
"May it please your sublime highness," observed Mustapha, after a pause,
"if your slave may be so honoured as to speak in your presence, a vizier
should be a person of great tact; he should be able to draw the line as
nicely as I do when I shave your sublime head, leaving not a vestige of
the hair, yet entering not upon the skin."
"Very true, Mustapha."
"He should have a sharp eye for the disaffected to the government,
selecting them and removing them from among the crowd, as I do the few
white hairs which presume to make their appearance in your sublime and
magnificent beard."
"Very true, Mustapha."
"He should carefully remove all impurities from the state, as I have
this morning from your sublime ears."
"Very true, Mustapha."
"He should be well acquainted with the secret springs of action, as I
have proved myself to be in the shampooing which your sublime highness
has just received."
"Very true, Mustapha."
"Moreover, he should be ever grateful to your highness for the
distinguished honour conferred upon him."
"All that you say is very true, Mustapha, but where am I to meet with
such a man?"
"This world is convenient in some points," continued Mustapha; "if you
want either a fool or a knave, you have not far to go to find them; but
it is no easy task to select the person you require. I know but one."
"And who is he?"
"One whose head is but as your footstool," answered the barber,
prostrating himself,--"your sublime highness's most devoted slave,
Mustapha."
"Holy Prophet! Then you mean yourself!--Well, now I think of it, if one
barber can become a pacha, I do not see why another would not make a
vizier. But then what am I to do for a barber? No, no, Mustapha; a good
vizier is easy to be found, but a good barber, you know as well as I do,
requires some talent."
"Your slave is aware of that," replied Mustapha, "but he has travelled
in other countries, where it is no uncommon circumstance for men to hold
more than one office under government; sometimes much more incompatible
than those of barber and vizier, which are indeed closely connected. The
affairs of most nations are settled by the potentates during their
toilet. While I am shaving the head of your sublime highness, I can
receive your commands to take off the heads of others; and you can have
your person and your state both put in order at the same moment."
"Very true, Mustapha; then, on condition that you continue your office
of barber, I have no objection to throw that of vizier into the
bargain."
Mustapha again prostrated himself, with his tweezers in his hand. He
then rose, and continued his office.
"You can write, Mustapha," observed the pacha, after a short silence.
"Min Allah! God forbid that I should acknowledge it, or I should
consider myself as unfit to assume the office in which your sublime
highness has invested me."
"Although unnecessary for me, I thought it might be requisite for a
vizier," observed the pacha.
"Reading may be necessary, I will allow," replied Mustapha; "but I trust
I can soon prove to your highness that writing is as dangerous as it is
useless. More men have been ruined by that unfortunate acquirement, than
by any other; and dangerous as it is to all, it is still more dangerous
to men in high power. For instance, your sublime highness sends a
message in writing, which is ill-received, and it is produced against
you; but had it been a verbal message, you could deny it, and bastinado
to death the Tartar who carried it, as a proof of your sincerity.
"Very true, Mustapha."
"The grandfather of your slave," continued the barber-vizier, "held the
situation of receiver-general at the custom-house; and he was always in
a fury when he was obliged to take up the pen. It was his creed, that no
government could prosper when writing was in general use. 'Observe,
Mustapha,' said he to me one day, 'here is the curse of writing,--for
all the money which is paid in, I am obliged to give a receipt. What is
the consequence? that government loses many thousand sequins every year;
for when I apply to them for a second payment, they produce their
receipt. Now if it had not been for this cursed invention of writing,
Inshallah! they should have paid twice, if not thrice over. Remember,
Mustapha,' continued he, 'that reading and writing only clog the wheels
of government.'"
"Very true, Mustapha," observed the pacha, "then we will have no
writing."
"Yes, your sublime highness, every thing in writing from others, but
nothing in writing from ourselves. I have a young Greek slave, who can
be employed in these matters. He reads well. I have lately employed him
in reading to me the stories of 'Thousand and one Nights.'"
"Stories," cried the pacha; "what are they about? I never heard of them;
I'm very fond of stories."
"If it would pleasure your sublime highness to hear these stories read,
the slave will wait your commands," replied the vizier.
"Bring him this evening, Mustapha; we will smoke a pipe, and listen to
them; I'm very fond of stories--they always send me to sleep."
The business of the day was transacted with admirable precision and
despatch by the two quondam barbers, who proved how easy it is to
govern, where there are not "three estates" to confuse people. They sat
in the divan as highwaymen loiter on the road, and it was "Your money or
your life" to all who made their appearance.
At the usual hour the court broke up, the guards retired, the money was
carried to the treasury, the executioner wiped his sword, and the lives
of the pacha's subjects were considered to be in a state of comparative
security, until the affairs of the country were again brought under
their cognizance on the ensuing day.
In obedience to the wish expressed by the pacha, Mustapha made his
appearance in the afternoon with the young Greek slave. The new vizier
having taken a seat upon a cushion at the feet of the pacha, the pipes
were lighted, and the slave was directed to proceed.
The Greek had arrived to the end of the First Night, in which
Schezehezerade commences her story, and the Sultan, who was anxious to
hear the termination of it, defers her execution to the following day.
"Stop," cried the pacha, taking the pipe from his lips; "how long
before the break of day did that girl call her sister?"
"About half an hour, your sublime highness."
"Wallah! is that all she could tell of her story in half an
hour?--There's not a woman in my harem who would not say as much in five
minutes."
The pacha was so amused with the stories, that he never once felt
inclined to sleep; on the contrary, the Greek slave was compelled to
read every afternoon, until his legs were so tired that he could hardly
stand, and his tongue almost refused its office; consequently, they were
soon finished; and Mustapha not being able to procure any more, they
were read a second time. After which the pacha, who felt the loss of his
evening's amusement, became first puzzled how to pass away his time;
then he changed to hypochondriacism, and finally became so irritable,
that even Mustapha himself, at times, approached him with some degree of
awe.
"I have been thinking," observed the pacha, one morning, when under the
hands of Mustapha, in his original capacity, "that it would be as easy
for me to have stories told me, as the caliph in the Arabian Nights."
"I wonder not that your highness should desire it. Those stories are as
the opium to Theriarkis, filling the soul with visions of delight at the
moment, but leaving it palsied from over-excitement, when their effect
has passed away. How does your sublime highness propose to obtain your
end; and in what manner can your slave assist to produce your wishes?"
"I shall manage it without assistance; come this evening and you shall
see, Mustapha."
Mustapha made his appearance in the afternoon, and the pacha smoked his
pipe for some time, and appeared as if communing with himself; he then
laid it down, and clapping his hands, desired one of the slaves to
inform his favourite lady, Zeinab, that he desired her presence.
Zeinab entered with her veil down. "Your slave attends the pleasure of
her lord."
"Zeinab," said the pacha, "do you love me?"
"Do not I worship the dust that my lord treads on?"
"Very true--then I have a favour to request--observe, Zeinab--it is my
wish that"--(here the pacha took a few whiffs from his pipe--) "The fact
is--I wish you to dishonour my harem as soon as possible."
"Wallah sel Nebi!!--by Allah and the Prophet! your highness is in a
merry humour this evening," replied Zeinab, turning round to quit the
apartment.
"On the contrary, I am in a serious humour; I mean what I have said; and
I expect that you will comply with my wishes."
"Is my lord mad? or has he indulged too freely in the juice of the grape
forbidden by our prophet? Allah Kebur! God is most powerful--The Hakim
must be sent for."
"Will you do as I order you?" said the pacha, angrily.
"Does my lord send for his slave to insult her! My blood is as water, at
the dreadful thought!--Dishonour the harem!--Min Allah! God
forbid!--Would not the eunuch be ready and the sack?"
"Yes, they would, I acknowledge; but still it must be done."
"It shall not be done," replied the lady:--"Has my lord been visited by
heaven? or is he possessed by the Shitan?"--And the lady burst into
tears of rage and vexation as she quitted the apartment.
"There's obstinacy for you--women are nothing but opposition. If you
wish them to be faithful, they try day and night to deceive you; give
them their desires and tell them to be false, they will refuse. All was
arranged so well, I should have cut off all their heads, and had a fresh
wife every night until I found one who could tell stories; then I should
have rose up and deferred her execution to the following day."
Mustapha, who had been laughing in his sleeve at the strange idea of
the pacha, was nevertheless not a little alarmed. He perceived that the
mania had such complete possession, that, unless appeased, the results
might prove unpleasant even to himself. It occurred to him, that a
course might be pursued to gratify the pacha's wishes, without
proceeding to such violent measures. Waiting a little while until the
colour, which had suffused the pacha's face from anger and
disappointment, had subsided, he addressed him:
"The plan of your sublime highness was such as was to be expected from
the immensity of your wisdom; but hath not the prophet warned us, that
the wisest of men are too often thwarted by the folly and obstinacy of
the other sex. May your slave venture to observe, that many very fine
stories were obtained by the caliph Haroun, and his vizier Mesrour, as
they walked through the city in disguise. In all probability a similar
result might be produced, if your highness were to take the same step,
accompanied by the lowest of your slaves, Mustapha."
"Very true," replied the pacha, delighted at the prospect, "prepare two
disguises, and we will set off in less than an hour--Inshallah, please
the Lord, we have at last hit upon the right path."
Mustapha, who was glad to direct the ideas of the pacha into a more
harmless channel, procured the dresses of two merchants, (for such, he
observed, were the usual habiliments put on by the caliph and his vizier
in the Arabian Nights), and he was aware that his master's vanity would
be gratified at the idea of imitating so celebrated a personage.
It was dusk when they set off upon their adventures. Mustapha directed
some slaves well armed to follow at a distance, in case their assistance
might be required. The strict orders which had been issued on the
accession of the new pacha (to prevent any riot or popular commotion),
which were enforced by constant rounds of the soldiers on guard,
occasioned the streets to be quite deserted.
For some time the pacha and Mustapha walked up one street and down
another, without meeting with anything or any body that could administer
to their wishes. The former, who had not lately been accustomed to
pedestrian exercise, began to puff and show symptoms of weariness and
disappointment, when at the corner of a street they fell in with two
men, who were seated in conversation; and as they approached softly, one
of them said to the other, "I tell you, Coja, that happy is the man who
can always command a hard crust like this, which is now wearing away my
teeth."
"I must know the reason of that remark," said the pacha; "Mesrour
(Mustapha, I mean), you will bring that man to me to-morrow, after the
divan is closed."
Mustapha bowed in acquiescence, and directing the slaves who were in
attendance to take the man into custody, followed the pacha, who,
fatigued with his unusual excursion, and satisfied with the prospect of
success, now directed his steps to the palace and retired to bed.
Zeinab, who had lain awake until her eyes could remain open no longer,
with the intention of reading him a lecture upon decency and sobriety,
had at last fallen asleep, and the tired pacha was therefore permitted
to do the same.
When Mustapha arrived at his own abode, he desired that the person who
had been detained should be brought to him.
"My good man," said the vizier, "you made an observation this evening
which was overheard by his highness the pacha, who wishes to be
acquainted with your reasons for stating 'that happy was the man who
could at all times command a hard crust, like that which was wearing
away your teeth.'"
The man fell down on his knees in trepidation. "I do declare to your
highness, by the camel of the Holy Prophet," said he, in a faltering
voice, "that I neither meant treason, nor disaffection to the
government."
"Slave! I am not quite sure of that," replied Mustapha, with a stern
look, in hopes of frightening the man into a compliance with his
wishes--"there was something very enigmatical in those words. Your
'_hard crust_' may mean his sublime highness the pacha; 'wearing away
your teeth' may imply exactions from the government; and as you affirmed
that he was happy who could _command_ the hard crust--why it is as much
as to say that you would be very glad to create a rebellion."
"Holy Prophet! May the soul of your slave never enter the first heaven,"
replied the man, "if he meant anything more than what he said; and if
your highness had been as often without a mouthful of bread as your
slave has been, you would agree with him in the justice of the remark."
"It is of little consequence whether I agree with you or not," replied
the vizier; "I have only to tell you that his sublime highness the pacha
will not be satisfied, unless you explain away the remark, by relating
to him some story connected with the observation."
"Min Allah! God forbid that your slave should tell a story to deceive
his highness."
"The Lord have mercy upon you if you do not," replied the vizier; "but,
to be brief, if you can invent a good and interesting story, you will
remove the suspicions of the pacha, and probably be rewarded with a few
pieces of gold; if you cannot, you must prepare for the bastinado, if
not for death. You will not be required to appear in the sublime
presence before to-morrow afternoon, and will therefore have plenty of
time to invent one."
"Will your highness permit your slave to go home and consult his wife?
Women have a great talent for storytelling. With her assistance he may
be able to comply with your injunctions."
"No," replied Mustapha, "you must remain in custody; but, as on this
occasion she may be of the greatest assistance to you, you may send for
her. They have indeed a talent! As the young crocodile, from instinct,
runs into the Nile as soon as it bursts its shell, so does woman, from
her nature, plunge into deceit, before even her tongue can give
utterance to the lies which her fertile imagination has already
conceived."
And with this handsome compliment to the sex, Mustapha gave his final
orders and retired.
Whether the unfortunate man, thus accused of treason, derived any
benefit from being permitted to "retain counsel," will be shown by the
following story, which he told to the pacha when summoned on the ensuing
day.
STORY OF THE CAMEL-DRIVER.
That your highness should wish for an explanation of the very doubtful
language which you overheard last night, I am not surprised; but I trust
you will acknowledge, when I have finished my narrative, that I was
fully justified in the expressions which I made use of. I am by birth
(as my dress denotes) a Fellah of this country, but I was not always so
poor as I am now. My father was the possessor of many camels, which he
let out for hire to the merchants of the different caravans which
annually leave this city. When he died, I came into possession of his
property, and the good-will of those whom he had most faithfully served.
The consequence was, that I had full employ, my camels were always
engaged, and, as I invariably accompanied them that they might not be
ill-treated, I have several times been to Mecca, as this ragged green
turban will testify. My life was one of alternate difficulty and
enjoyment. I returned to my wife and children with delight after my
journeys of suffering and privation, and fully appreciated the value of
my home from the short time that my occupation would permit me to remain
there. I worked hard and became rich.
It was during a painful march through the Desert with one of the
caravans, that a favourite she-camel foaled. At first it was my
intention to leave the young one to its fate, as my camels had already
suffered much; but, on examination, the creature showed such strength
and symmetry that I resolved to bring it up. I therefore divided half of
one of the loads between the other camels, and tied the foal upon the
one which I had partly relieved for the purpose. We arrived safely at
Cairo; and, as the little animal grew up, I had more than ever reason to
be satisfied that I had saved its life. All good judges considered it a
prodigy of beauty and strength, and prophesied that it would some day be
selected as the holy camel, to carry the Koran in the pilgrimage to
Mecca. And so it did happen about five years afterwards, during which
interval I accompanied the caravans as before, and each year added to my
wealth.
My camel had by this time arrived to his full perfection; he stood
nearly three feet higher than any other; and, when the caravan was
preparing, I led him to the sheiks, and offered him as a candidate for
the honour. They would have accepted him immediately, had it not been
for a Maribout, who, for some reason or another, desired them not to
employ him, asserting that the caravan would be unlucky if my camel was
the bearer of the holy Koran.
As this man was considered to be a prophet, the sheiks were afraid, and
would not give a decided answer. Irritated at the Maribout's
interference, I reviled him; he raised a hue and cry against me; and,
being joined by the populace, I was nearly killed. As I hastened away,
the wretch threw some sand after me, crying out, "Thus shall the caravan
perish from the judgment of heaven, if that cursed camel is permitted to
carry the holy word of the prophet." The consequence was, that an
inferior camel was selected, and I was disappointed. But on the ensuing
year the Maribout was not at Cairo; and, as there was no animal equal to
mine in beauty, it was chosen by the sheiks without a dissentient voice.
I hastened home to my wife, overjoyed with my good fortune, which I
hoped would bring a blessing upon my house. She was equally delighted,
and my beautiful camel seemed also to be aware of the honour to which he
was destined, as he repaid our caresses, curving and twisting his long
neck, and laying his head upon our shoulders.
The caravan assembled: it was one of the largest which for many years
had quitted Cairo, amounting in all to eighteen thousand camels. You may
imagine my pride when, as the procession passed through the streets, I
pointed out to my wife the splendid animal, with his bridle studded with
jewels and gold, led by the holy sheiks in their green robes, carrying
on his back the chest which contained the law of our prophet, looking
proudly on each side of him as he walked along, accompanied by bands of
music, and the loud chorus of the singing men and women.
As on the ensuing day the caravan was to form outside of the town, I
returned home to my family, that I might have the last of their company,
having left my other camels, who were hired by the pilgrims, in charge
of an assistant who accompanied me in my journeys. The next morning I
bade adieu to my wife and children; and was quitting the house, when my
youngest child, who was about two years old, called to me, and begged me
to return one moment, and give her a farewell caress. As I lifted her in
my arms, she, as usual, put her hand into the pocket of my loose jacket
to search, as I thought, for the fruit that I usually brought home for
her when I returned from the bazaar; but there was none there: and
having replaced her in the arms of her mother, I hastened away that I
might not be too late at my post. Your highness is aware that we do not
march one following another, as most caravans do, but in one straight
line abreast. The necessary arrangement occupies the whole day previous
to the commencement of our journey, which takes place immediately after
the sun goes down. We set off that evening, and after a march of two
nights, arrived at Adjeroid, where we remained three days, to procure
our supplies of water from Suez, and to refresh the animals, previous to
our forced march over the desert of El Tyh.
The last day of our repose, as I was smoking my pipe, with my camels
kneeling down around me, I perceived a herie[1] coming from the
direction of Cairo, at a very swift pace; it passed by me like a flash
of lightning, but still I had sufficient time to recognise in its rider
the Maribout who had prophesied evil if my camel was employed to carry
the Koran on the pilgrimage of the year before.
[1] A swift dromedary.
The Maribout stopped his dromedary at the tent of the Emir Hadjy, who
commanded the caravan. Anxious to know the reason of his following us,
which I had a foreboding was connected with my camel, I hastened to the
spot. I found him haranguing the Emir and the people who had surrounded
him, denouncing woe and death to the whole caravan if my camel was not
immediately destroyed, and another selected in his stead. Having for
some time declaimed in such an energetic manner as to spread
consternation throughout the camp, he turned his dromedary again to the
west, and in a few minutes was out of sight.
The Emir was confused; murmurings and consultations were arising among
the crowd. I was afraid that they would listen to the suggestions of the
Maribout; and, alarmed for my camel, and the loss of the honour
conferred upon him, I was guilty of a lie.
"O! Emir," said I, "listen not to that man who is mine enemy: he came to
my house, he ate of my bread, and would have been guilty of the basest
ingratitude by seducing the mother of my children; I drove him from my
door, and thus would he revenge himself. So may it fare with me, and
with the caravan, as I speak the truth."
I was believed; the injunctions of the Maribout were disregarded, and
that night we proceeded on our march through the plains of El Tyh.
As your highness has never yet made a pilgrimage, you can have no
conception of the country which we had to pass through: it was one vast
region of sand, where the tracks of those who pass over it are
obliterated by the wind,--a vast sea without water,--an expanse of
desolation. We plunged into the desert; and as the enormous collection
of animals, extending as far as the eye could reach, held their
noiseless way, it seemed as if it were the passing by of shadows.
We met with no accident, notwithstanding the prophecies of the Maribout;
and, after a fatiguing march of seven nights, arrived safely at Nakhel,
where we replenished our exhausted water-skins. Those whom I knew joked
with me, when we met at the wells, at the false prophecies of my enemy.
We had now three days of severe fatigue to encounter before we arrived
at the castle of Akaba, and we recommenced our painful journey.
It was on the morning of the second day, about an hour after we had
pitched out tents, that the fatal prophecy of the Maribout, and the
judgment of Allah upon me, for the lie which I had called on him to
witness, was fulfilled.
A dark cloud appeared upon the horizon; it gradually increased, changing
to a bright yellow; then rose and rose until it had covered one-half of
the firmament, when it suddenly burst upon us in a hurricane which
carried every thing before it, cutting off mountains of sand at the
base, and hurling them upon our devoted heads. The splendid tent of the
Emir which first submitted to the blast, passed close to me, flying
along with the velocity of the herie, while every other was either
levelled to the ground or carried up into the air, and whirled about in
mad gyration.
Moving pillars of sand passed over us, overthrowing and suffocating man
and beast; the camels thrust their muzzles into the ground, and,
profiting by their instinct, we did the same, awaiting our fate in
silence and trepidation. But the simoom had not yet poured upon us all
its horrors: in a few minutes nothing was to be distinguished, all was
darkness, horrible darkness, rendered more horrible by the ravings of
dying men, the screams of women, and the mad career of horses and other
animals, which breaking their cords, trod down thousands in their
endeavours to escape from the overwhelming fury of the desert storm.
I had laid myself down by one of my camels, and thrusting my head under
his side, awaited my death with all the horror of one who felt that the
wrath of heaven was justly poured upon him. For an hour I remained in
that position, and surely there can be no pains in hell greater than
those which I suffered during that space of time. The burning sand
forced itself into my garments, the pores of my skin were closed, I
hardly ventured to breathe the hot blast which was offered as the only
means of protracted existence. At last I fetched my respiration with
greater freedom, and no more heard the howling of the blast. Gradually I
lifted up my head, but my eyes had lost their power, I could distinguish
nothing but a yellow glare. I imagined that I was blind, and what chance
could there be for a man who was blind in the desert of El Tyh? Again I
laid my head down, thought of my wife and children, and abandoning
myself to despair, I wept bitterly.
The tears that I shed had a resuscitating effect upon my frame. I felt
revived, and again lifted up my head--I could see! I prostrated myself
in humble thanksgiving to Allah, and then rose upon my feet. Yes, I
could see; but what a sight was presented to my eyes! I could have
closed them for ever with thankfulness. The sky was again serene, and
the boundless prospect uninterrupted as before; but the thousands who
accompanied me, the splendid gathering of men and beasts, where were
they? Where was the Emir Hadjy and his guards? where the mamelukes, the
agas, the janissaries, and the holy sheiks? the sacred camel, the
singers, and musicians? the varieties of nations and tribes who had
joined the caravan? All perished!! Mountains of sand marked the spots
where they had been entombed, with no other monuments save here and
there part of the body of a man or beast not yet covered by the desert
wave. All, all were gone, save one; and that one, that guilty one, was
myself, who had been permitted to exist, that he might behold the awful
mischief which had been created by his presumption and his crime.
For some minutes I contemplated the scene, careless and despairing; for
I imagined that I had only been permitted to outlive the whole, that my
death might be even more terrible. But my wife and children rushed to my
memory, and I resolved for their sakes to save, if possible, a life
which had no other ties to bind it to this earth. I tore off a piece of
my turban, and cleansing the sand out of my bleeding nostrils, walked
over the field of death.
Between the different hillocks I found several camels, which had not
been covered. Perceiving a water-skin, I rushed to it, that I might
quench my raging thirst; but the contents had been dried up--not a drop
remained. I found another, but I had no better success. I then
determined to open one of the bodies of the camels, and obtain the water
which it might still have remaining in its stomach. This I effected, and
having quenched my thirst--to which even the heated element which I
poured down, seemed delicious--I hastened to open the remainder of the
animals before putrefaction should take place, and collect the scanty
supplies in the water-skins. I procured more than half a skin of water,
and then returned to my own camel, which I had lain down beside of,
during the simoom. I sat on the body of the animal, and reflected upon
the best method of proceeding. I knew that I was but one day's journey
from the springs; but how little chance had I of reaching them! I also
knew the direction which I must take. The day had nearly closed, and I
resolved to make the attempt.
As the sun disappeared, I rose, and with the skin of water on my back
proceeded on my hopeless journey. I walked the whole of that night, and,
by break of day, I imagined that I must have made about half the
progress of a caravan; I had, therefore, still a day to pass in the
desert, without any protection from the consuming heat, and then another
night of toil. Although I had sufficient water, I had no food. When the
sun rose, I sat down upon a hillock of burning sand, to be exposed to
his rays for twelve everlasting hours. Before the hour of noon arrived,
my brain became heated--I nearly lost my reason. My vision was
imperfect, or rather I saw what did not exist. At one time lakes of
water presented themselves to my eager eyes; and so certain was I of
their existence, that I rose and staggered till I was exhausted in
pursuit of them. At another, I beheld trees at a distance, and could see
the acacias waving in the breeze; I hastened to throw myself under their
shade, and arrived at some small shrub, which had thus been magnified.
So was I tormented and deceived during the whole of that dreadful day,
which still haunts me in my dreams. At last the night closed in, and the
stars as they lighted up, warned me that I might continue my journey. I
drank plentifully from my water-skin, and recommenced my solitary way. I
followed the track marked out by the bones of camels and horses of
former caravans which had perished in the desert, and when the day
dawned, I perceived the castle of Akaba at a short distance. Inspired
with new life, I threw away the water-skin, redoubled my speed, and in
half an hour had thrown myself down by the side of the fountain from
which I had previously imbibed large draughts of the refreshing fluid.
What happiness was then mine! How heavenly, to lay under the shade,
breathing the cool air, listening to the warbling of the birds, and
inhaling the perfume of the flowers, which luxuriated on that delightful
spot! After an hour I stripped, bathed myself, and, taking another
draught of water, fell into a sound sleep.
I awoke refreshed, but suffering under the cravings of hunger, which now
assailed me. I had been three days without food; but hitherto I had not
felt the want of it, as my more importunate thirst had overcome the
sensation. Now that the greater evil had been removed, the lesser
increased and became hourly more imperious. I walked out and scanned the
horizon with the hopes of some caravan appearing in sight, but I watched
in vain; and returned to the fountain. Two more days passed away, and no
relief was at hand: my strength failed me; I felt that I was dying; and,
as the fountain murmured, and the birds sang, and the cool breeze
fanned my cheeks, I thought that it would have been better to have been
swallowed up in the desert than to be tantalised by expiring in such a
paradise. I laid myself down to die, for I could sit up no more; and as
I turned round to take a last view of the running water, which had
prolonged my existence, something hard pressed against my side. I
thought it was a stone, and stretched out my hand to remove it, that I
might be at ease in my last moments; but when I felt, there was no stone
there; it was something in the pocket of my jacket. I put my hand in,
unconscious what it could be; I pulled it out, and looking at it before
I threw it away, found that it was a piece of _hard dry bread_. I
thought that it had been sent to me from heaven, and it was as pure an
offering as if it had come from thence, for it was the gift of innocence
and affection--it was the piece of bread which my little darling girl
had received for her breakfast, and which on my departure she had thrust
into my pocket, when I imagined she had been searching for fruit. I
crawled to the spring, moistened it, and devoured it, with tears of
gratitude to heaven, mingled with the fond yearnings of a father's
heart.
It saved my life; for the next day a small caravan arrived, which was
bound to Cairo. The merchants treated me with great kindness, tied me on
one of the camels, and I once more embraced my family, whom I had never
thought to see again. Since that I have been poor, but contented--I
deserved to lose all my property for my wickedness, and I submit with
resignation to the will of Allah.
And now I trust that your highness will acknowledge that I was justified
in making use of the expression, that "Happy was the man who could _at
all times_ command a _crust of bread_!"
* * * * *
"Very true," observed the pacha; "that's not a bad story: Mustapha, give
him five pieces of gold, and allow him to depart."
The camel-driver quitted the divan, prostrating himself before the
pacha, and overjoyed at the fortunate termination of what had threatened
so much danger. The pacha was silent for a little while, during which he
puffed his pipe--when he observed:--
"Allah Kebur, God is most powerful! That man has suffered much--and what
has he to show for it?--a green turban--He is a Hadjy; I never thought
that we should have heard so good a story about a 'crust of bread.' His
description of the simoom parched up my entrails. What think you,
Mustapha, cannot a true believer go to heaven, without a visit to the
tomb of the prophet?"
"The holy Koran does not say otherwise, your highness, it inculcates
that all who can, should do so, as the path will be rendered easier. Min
Allah! God forbid! Has your highness ever had the time to go to Mecca,
and is not your highness to go to heaven?"
"Very true, Mustapha, I never had time. In my youth I was busy shaving
heads, after that, Wallah! I had enough to do, splitting them; and now
am not I fully occupied in taking them off? Is it not so, Mustapha; are
not these the words of truth?"
"Your highness is all wisdom. There is but one God, and Mahomet is his
prophet; and when the latter said, that a visit to the holy shrine would
be a passport to heaven, it was intended to employ those who were idle,
not to embarrass true believers who work hard in the name of the Most
High!"
"Min Allah! God forbid! the case is clear," replied the pacha, "why, if
every body were to go to Mecca, what then, Mustapha?"
"Your highness--it is the opinion of your slave, if such were to take
place, that all the fools would have left the country."
"Very true, Mustapha; but my mouth is parched up with the sand of that
simoom--Sherbet I cannot drink, Rakee I must not, the Hakim has forbid
it; what must it be then, Mustapha?"
"Hath the holy prophet forbidden wine to true believers in case of
sickness; is not your highness sick; was the wine of Shiraz given by
Allah to be thrown away? Allah Karim! God is most merciful; and the wine
was sent that true believers might, in this world, have a foretaste of
the pleasures awaiting them in the next."
"Mustapha," replied the pacha, taking his pipe out of his mouth, "by the
beard of the holy prophet, your words are those of wisdom. Is a pacha to
be fed on water-melons? Staffir Allah! do we believe the less, because
we drink the wine? Slave, bring the pitcher. There is but one God, and
Mahomet is his prophet."
"The words of the prophet, your highness, are plain: he says, 'True
believers drink no wine,' which means, that his followers are not to go
about the streets, drunken like the Giaours of Franguistan, who come
here in their ships. Why is wine forbidden? because it makes men drunk.
If then we are not drunk, we keep within the law. Why was the law made?
Laws cannot be made for all; they must therefore be made for the control
of the majority--Is it not so? Who are the majority? Why the poor. If
laws were made for the rich and powerful, such laws would not suit the
community at large. Mashallah! there are no laws for pachas, who have
only to believe that there is one God and Mahomet is his prophet. Does
your slave say well?"
"Excellently well, Mustapha," replied the pacha, lifting the pitcher to
his mouth for a minute, and then passing it to Mustapha.
"Allah Karim! God is most merciful! your slave must drink; is it not the
pleasure of your highness? As the wine poured down the throat of your
highness, pervades through your whole frame to the extremities, so does
your slave participate in your bounty. Do I not sit in your sublime
presence? Can the sun shine without throwing out heat; therefore if your
highness drink, must not I drink? Allah Acbar! who shall presume not to
follow the steps of the pacha?" So saying, Mustapha lifted up the
pitcher, and, for a minute, it was glued to his lips.
"I think that story should be written down," observed the pacha, after
a pause of a few moments.
"I have already given directions, your highness, and the Greek slave is
now employed about it, improving the language to render it more pleasing
to the ears of your sublime highness, should it be your pleasure to have
it read to you on some future day."
"That is right, Mustapha, if I recollect well, the Caliph Haroun used to
command them to be written in letters of gold, and be deposited in the
archives: we must do the same."
"The art no longer exists, your highness."
"Then we must be content with Indian-ink," replied the pacha, lifting
the pitcher to his mouth, and emptying it.
"The sun will soon be down, Mustapha, and we must set off."