melancholy thoughts: at last he lifted up his head, and calling
one of his servants, Go, said he, to Ebn Timber's house, and ask
any of his domestics if he be gone to Balsora; run and come back
quickly, and tell me what you hear. While the servant was gone,
the jeweller endeavoured to entertain the prince of Persia with
indifferent subjects; but the prince gave little heed to him, for
he was a prey to fatal grief. Sometimes he could not persuade
himself that Ebn Thaher was gone; at other times he did not doubt
the truth of it, when he reflected upon the discourse he had the
last time he saw him, and the angry countenance with which he
left him.
At last the prince's servant returned, and reported that he had
spoken to one of Ebn Thaher servants, who assured him that he was
gone two days before to Balsora. As I came from Ebn Thaher's
house, added the servant, a slave well arrayed came to me, and,
asking if I had the honour to belong to you, she told me she
wanted to speak with you, begging, at the same time, that she
might come along with me: she is now in the house, and I believe
has a letter to give you from some person of note. The prince
commanded him to bring her in immediately: he doubted not but it
was Schemselnihar's confident slave, as indeed it was. The
jeweller knew who she was, having seen her several times at Ebn
Thaher's house. She could not have come at a better time to
hinder the prince from despair.
She saluted him, and the prince of Persia did likewise salute
Schemselnihar's confident. The jeweller rose as soon as he saw
her appear, and stepped aside, to leave them at liberty to speak
together. The confident, after conversing some time with the
prince, took leave, and departed. She left him quite another
thing than before; his eyes appeared brighter, and his
countenance more gay; which made the jeweller know that the good
slave came to tell him some news that favoured his amour.
The jeweller having taken his place again near the prince, said
to him, smiling, I see, prince, you have important affairs at the
caliph's palace. The prince of Persia was astonished and alarmed
at this discourse, and answered the jeweller, why do you judge
that I have affairs at the caliph's palace? I judge, replied the
jeweller, by the slave that is gone forth. To whom, think you,
belongs this slave? said the prince. To Schemselnihar, the
caliph's favourite, answered the jeweller. I know, continued he,
both the slave and her mistress, who have several times done me
the honour to come to my house, and buy jewels. Besides, I know
that Schemselnihar keeps nothing secret from this slave; and I
have seen her go and come for several days along the streets,
very much troubled, which made me imagine that it was upon some
affair of consequence concerning her mistress.
The jeweller's words did much trouble the prince of Persia. He
would not say so, said he to himself, if he did not suspect, or
rather know, my secret. He remained silent for some time, not
knowing what to answer. At length he said to the jeweller, You
have told me those things which make me believe that you know yet
more than you have acquainted me with. It will tend much to my
quiet if I be perfectly informed; I conjure you, therefore, not
to dissemble.
Then the jeweller, who desired no better, gave him a particular
account of what had passed between Ebn Thaher and himself; so
that he let him know that he was informed of his correspondence
with Schemselnihar; and forgot not to tell him that Ebn Thaher
was afraid of the danger of being his confident in the matter,
which was partly the occasion of his retiring to Balsora, to stay
till the storm which he feared should he over. This he has done,
added the jeweller; and I am surprised how he could determine to
abandon you in the condition he informed me you was in. As for
me, prince, I confess I am moved with compassion towards you, and
am come to offer you my service; and if you do me the favour to
accept of it, I engage myself to be as faithful to you as Ebn
Thaher; besides, I promise to be more constant, I am ready to
sacrifice my honour and life for you; and, in fine, that you may
not doubt my sincerity, I swear, by all that is sacred in our
religion, to keep your secret inviolable! Be persuaded, then,
that you will find in me the friend that you have lost. This
discourse encouraged the prince, and comforted him under Ebn
Thaher's absence. I am very glad, said he to the jeweller, to
find in you a reparation of my loss: I want words to express the
obligations I am under to you. I pray God to recompense your
generosity; and I accept your obliging offer with all my heart.
Believe it, continued he, that Schemselnihar's confident came to
speak to me concerning you; she told me that it was you who
advised Ebn Thaher to go from Bagdad; these were the last words
she spoke to me when she went away, and had almost persuaded me
of it. But do not resent it; for I doubt not but she is deceived,
after what you have told me. Prince, replied the jeweller, I have
had the honour to give you a faithful account of my conversation
with Ebn Thaher. It is true, when he told me he would return to
Balsora, I did not oppose his design, but said he was a wise and
prudent man; and, that this may not hinder you from putting
confidence in me, I am ready to serve you with all imaginable
zeal; which though you do otherwise, this shall not hinder me
from keeping your secret religiously according to my oath. I have
already told you, replied the prince, that I would not believe
what the confident said; it is her zeal that inspired her with
this groundless suspicion, and you ought to excuse it, as I do.
They continued their conversation for some time, and consulted
together of convenient means to continue the prince's
correspondence with Schemselnihar: they agreed to begin by
disabusing the confident, who was so unjustly prepossessed
against the jeweller. The prince engaged to undeceive her the
first time she returned, and to entreat her to engage herself to
the jeweller, that she might bring the letters, or any other
information, from her mistress to him. In fine, they agreed that
she ought not to come so frequently to the prince's house,
because she might thereby give occasion to discover that which
was of so great importance to conceal. At last the jeweller rose,
and, after having again prayed the prince of Persia to have an
entire confidence in him, retired.
The jeweller, returning to his house, perceived before him a
letter which somebody had dropped in the street; he took it up;
and, not being sealed, he opened it, and found that it contained
as follows:
Letter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.
I am informed by my confident of a piece of news which troubles
me no less than it does you: By losing Ebn Thaher, we have indeed
lost much; but let this not hinder you, dear prince, thinking to
preserve yourself. If our confident has abandoned us through a
slavish fear, let us consider that it is a misfortune which we
could not avoid. I confess Ebn Thaher has left us at a time when
we need him most; but let us fortify ourselves by patience
against this unlooked-for accident, and let us not forbear to
love one another constantly. Fortify your heart against this
misfortune. Nobody can obtain what they desire without trouble.
Let us not discourage ourselves, but hope that Heaven will favour
us; and that, after so many afflictions, we shall come to a happy
accomplishment of our desires. Adieu.
While the jeweller was conversing with the prince of Persia, the
confident had time to return to the palace, and tell her mistress
the ill news of Ebn Thaher's departure. Schemselniliar
immediately wrote this letter, and sent back her confident with
it to the prince of Persia; but she negligently dropped it.
The jeweller was glad to find it; for it was a good way to set
him right with the confident, and bring him to the point he
desired. When he had read it, he perceived the slave, who sought
it with a great deal of uneasiness, looking about every where. He
closed it again quickly, and put it into his bosom; but the slave
took notice of it, and ran to him. Sir, said she, I have dropped
a letter which you had just now in your hand; I beseech you be
pleased to restore it. The jeweller, taking no notice that he
heard her, continued his way till he came to his house. He did
not shut the door behind him, that the confident, who followed
him, might come in. She accordingly did so; and when she came to
his chamber, Sir, said she to him, you can make no use of the
letter you have found; and you would make no difficulty in
returning it to me, if you knew from whom it came, and to whom it
is directed. Besides, let me tell you, you cannot honestly keep
it.
Before the jeweller answered the confident, he made her sit down,
and said to her, Is not this letter from Schemselnihar, and
directed to the prince of Persia? The slave, who expected no such
question, blushed. The question puzzles you, replied he, but I
assure you I do not propose it rashly: I could have given you the
letter in the street, but I suffered you to follow me, on purpose
that I might discourse with you. Tell me, is it just to impute an
unhappy accident to people who no ways contributed towards it?
Yet this you have done, in telling the prince of Persia that it
was I who counselled Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad for his own
safety. I do not intend to lose time in justifying myself to you;
it is enough that the prince of Persia is fully persuaded of my
innocence in this matter: I will only tell you, that instead of
contributing to Ebn Thaher's departure, I have been extremely
afflicted at it; not so much for my friendship to him, as out of
compassion for the condition in which he left the prince of
Persia, whose correspondence with Schemselnihar he has
acknowledged to me. As soon as I knew certainly that Ebn Thaher
was gone from Bagdad, I presented myself to the prince, in whose
house you found me, to inform him of this news, and to offer him
the same service which he did him; and, provided you put the same
confidence in me that you did in Ebn Thaher, you may serve
yourself by my assistance. Inform your mistress of what I have
told you, and assure her, that if I should die for engaging in so
dangerous an intrigue, I will rejoice to have sacrificed myself
for two lovers so worthy of each other.
The confident, after having heard the jeweller with great
satisfaction, begged him to pardon her the ill opinion she had
conceived of him, out of the zeal she had for her mistress. I am
extremely glad, added she, that Schemselnihar and the prince have
found you, who are a man fit to supply Ebn Thaher's place, and I
shall not fail to signify to my mistress the good-will you bear
her. After the confident had testified to the jeweller her joy to
see him so well disposed to serve Schemselnihar and the prince of
Persia, the jeweller took the letter out of his bosom, and
restored it to her, saying, Go, carry it quickly to the prince of
Persia, and come back this way, that I may see the answer. Forget
not to give him an account of our conversation.
The confident took the letter, and carried it to the prince, who
answered it immediately. She returned to the jeweller's house to
show him the answer, which was this:
The Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselniliar.
Your precious letter had a great effect upon me, but not so great
as I could wish. You endeavour to comfort me for the loss of Ebn
Thaher; but, alas! sensible as I am of this, it is the least of
my troubles! You know my malady, and that your presence only can
cure me. When will the time come that I shall enjoy it without
fear of being ever deprived of it? O how long does it seem to me!
But shall we rather flatter ourselves that we may see one
another? You command me to preserve myself; I will obey, since I
have renounced my own will to follow yours. Adieu.
After the jeweller had read this letter, he gave it again to the
confident, who said, when she was going away, I will tell my
mistress to put the same confidence in you that she did in Ebn
Thaher, and you shall hear of me to-morrow. Accordingly, next day
she returned with a pleasant countenance. Your very look, said he
to her, informs me that you have brought Schemselnihar to what
you wished. That is true, said the confident, sand you shall hear
how I effected it. Yesterday, continued she, I found
Schemselnihar expecting me with impatience; I gave her the prince
of Persia's letter, which she read with tears in her eyes; and
when she had done, I observed she had abandoned herself to her
usual sorrow. Madam, said I, it is doubtless Ebn Thaher's removal
that troubles you; but suffer me to conjure you, in the name of
God, not to concern yourself any further about that matter. We
have found another who offers to oblige you with as much zeal,
and, what is yet more important, with greater courage. Then I
mentioned you, continued the slave, and acquainted her with the
motive which made you go to the prince of Persia's house. In
short, I assured her that you would inviolably keep the secret
betwixt her and the prince of Persia, and that you was* resolved
to favour their amours with all your might. She seemed to me much
relieved by my discourse. Ah! what obligations, said she, are the
prince of Persia and I under to that honest man you speak of? I
must see him, that I may hear from his own mouth what you tell
me, and thank him for such an unheard-of piece of generosity
towards persons with whom he is no way obliged to concern
himself. A sight of him will please me; and I will not omit any
thing to confirm him in those good sentiments. Do not fail to
bring him to-morrow. Therefore, pray, sir, go with me lo the
palace.
The confident's discourse perplexed the jeweller. Your mistress,
replied he, must allow me to say, that she has not thought well
of what she requires. Ebn Thaher's access to the caliph gave him
admission every where; and the officers, who knew him, suffered
him to go and come freely to Schemselnihar's palace; but, as for
me, how dare I enter? You see well enough that it is not
possible. I entreat you to represent those reasons to
Schemselnihar which hinder me giving her that satisfaction, and
acquaint her with all the ill consequences that would result from
it. If she considers it ever so little, she will find that it
would expose me needlessly to very great danger.
The confident endeavoured to encourage the jeweller: Believe me,
said he, that Schemselnihar is not so unreasonable as to expose
you to the least danger, from whom she expects such considerable
services. Consider with yourself that there is not the least
appearance of hazard: my mistress and I are too much interested
in this affair to involve you in any danger. You may depend upon
me, and leave yourself to my conduct. After the affair is over,
you will confess to me that your fear was groundless.
The jeweller hearkened to the confident's discourse, and got up
to follow her; but, notwithstanding his natural courage, he was
seized with such terror that his whole body trembled. In the
condition you are in, said she, I perceive it will be better for
you to stay at home, and that Schemselnihar take other measures
to see you. It is not to be doubted but that, to satisfy her
desire, she will come hither herself. The case being so, sir, I
would not have you to go, as I am persuaded it will not be long
before she comes to you. The confident foresaw this very well;
for she no sooner informed Schemselnihar of the jeweller's fear,
than she made ready to go to his house.
He received her with all the marks of profound respect. When she
sat down, being a little fatigued with walking, she unveiled
herself, and discovered to the jeweller such beauty as made him
acknowledge that the prince of Persia was excusable in giving his
heart to her. Then she saluted the jeweller with a graceful
countenance, and said to him, I am informed with what zeal you
have engaged in the prince of Persia's concerns and mine; but,
without immediately forming a design to express my gratitude, I
thank Heaven, which has so soon made up Ebn Thaher's loss.
Schemselnihar said several other obliging things to the jeweller,
after which she returned to her palace. The jeweller went
immediately to give an account of this visit to the prince of
Persia, who said to him, as soon as he saw him, I have expected
you impatiently. The trusty slave has brought me a letter from
her mistress, but she does not comfort me: whatever the lovely
Schemselnihar says, I dare not hope for any thing; my patience is
at an end; I know not now what measures to take. Ebn Thaher's
departure makes me despair; he was my only support; I lost all by
losing him, for I flattered myself with some hopes by reason of
his access to Schemselnihar.
After these words, which the prince pronounced with so much
eagerness that he gave the jeweller no time to interrupt him, he
said to the prince, No man can bear a greater share of your
affliction than I do; and if you will have patience to hear me,
you will perceive that I am capable of giving you ease. Upon this
the prince became silent, and hearkened to him. I see very well,
said the jeweller, that the only thing to give you satisfaction
is to fall upon a way that you may converse freely with
Schemselnihar. This I will procure you, and to-morrow will set
about it. You must by no means expose yourself to enter
Schemselnihar's palace; you know by experience the danger of
that: I know a very fit place for this interview, where you shall
be safe. When the jeweller had spoken thus, the prince embraced
him with a transport of joy. You revive, said he, by this
charming promise, an unhappy lover who was resolved to die; I see
that you have fully repaired the loss of Ebn Thaher: whatever you
do will be well done; I leave myself entirely to you.
The prince, after thanking the jeweller for his zeal, returned
home, and next morning Schemselnihar's confident came to him. He
told her that he had put the prince of Persia in hopes that he
should see Schemselnihar speedily. I am come purposely, answered
she, to take measures with you for that end. I think, continued
she, this house will be convenient enough for their interview. I
could receive them very well here, replied he; but I think they
will have more liberty in another house of mine, where nobody
lives at present; I will quickly furnish it for receiving them.
Since the matter is so, replied the confident, there remains
nothing for me to do but to make Sehemselnihar consent to it. I
will go tell her, and return speedily with an answer.
She was as diligent as her promise; and, returning to the
jeweller, told him that her mistress would not fail to keep the
appointment in the evening. In the mean time she gave him a purse
of money to prepare a collation. He sent her immediately to the
house where the lovers were to meet, that she might know whither
to bring her mistress; and when she was gone, he went to borrow
from his friends vessels of gold and silver, tapestry, rich
cushions, and other furniture, with which he furnished the house
very magnificently; and, when he had put all things in order,
went to the prince of Persia.
You may easily conceive the prince of Persia's joy, when the
jeweller told him that he came to conduct him to the house he had
prepared to receive him and Schemselnihar. This news obliterated
all his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and went
without his retinue along with the jeweller, who led him through
several by-streets, that nobody might observe him, and at last
brought him to the house, where they discoursed together until
Schemselnihar came.
They did not stay long for this passionate lover. She came after
evening-prayers, with her confident and two other slaves. The
excess of joy that seized those two lovers, when they saw one
another, it is altogether impossible to express. They sat down
together upon the sofa for some time, without being able to
speak, they were so much overjoyed; but, when speech returned to
them, they soon made up for their silence. They expressed
themselves with so much tenderness, as made the jeweller, the
confident, and the two other slaves, weep. The jeweller, however,
restrained his tears to think upon the collation, which he
brought. The lovers ate and drank a little, after which they
again sat down on the sofa. Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if
he had a lute, or any other instrument. The jeweller, who took
care to provide all that might please them, brought her a lute,
which she took some time to tune, and then played.
While Schemselnihar was thus charming the prince of Persia, and
expressing her passion by words composed extempore, a great noise
was heard, and immediately the slave whom the jeweller brought
with him appeared in a terrible fright, to tell him that some
people were breaking up the gate; that he asked who it was, but,
instead of an answer, the blows were redoubled. The jeweller,
being alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince, to go and
inform himself of the truth of this bad news. There was already
got into the court a company of men armed with bayonets and
scimitars, who had entered privately, and, having broken up the
gate, came straight towards him: he stood close to a wall for
fear of his life, and saw ten of them pass without being
perceived by them; and, finding that he could give no help to the
prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he satisfied himself with
bewailing them, and fled for refuge to a neighbour's house, who
was not yet gone to bed. He did not doubt that this unexpected
violence was by the caliph's order, who, he thought, had been
informed of his favourite's meeting with the prince of Persia. He
heard a great noise in his own house, which continued till
midnight; and when all was quiet, as he thought, he prayed his
neighbour to lend him a scimitar, and, being thus armed, went on
till he came to the gate of his own house. He entered the court
full of fear, and perceived a man, who asked him who he was? He
knew by his voice that it was his own slave. How didst thou do,
said he, to avoid being taken by the watch? Sir, answered the
slave, I hid myself in a corner of the court, and I went out as
soon as I heard the noise. But it was not the watch who broke
your house; they were highwaymen, who within these few days
robbed another in this neighbourhood: they have doubtless had
notice of the rich furniture you brought hither, and had that in
their view.
The jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable: he entered
the house, and saw that the highwaymen had taken all the
furniture out of the chamber where he received Schemselnihar and
her lover; that they had also carried off the vessels of gold and
silver, and, in a word, had left nothing. Being in this
condition, O Heaven! cried he, I am irrecoverably undone! What
will my friends say, and what excuse can I make, when I tell them
that highwaymen have broken into my house, and robbed me of all
that they generously lent me? I shall never be able to make up
their loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and the
prince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it is
impossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will get
notice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his fury.
The slave, who loved him, endeavoured to comfort him thus: As to
Schemselnihar, said he, the highwaymen probably would content
themselves to strip her; and you have reason to think that she is
retired to her palace with her slaves. The prince of Persia is
probably in the same condition; so that you have reason to hope
that the caliph will never know of this adventure. As for the
loss your friends have sustained, that is a misfortune which you
could not avoid. They know very well the highwaymen to be so
numerous, that they have not only pillaged the house I have
already spoken of, but many other houses of the principal
noblemen of the court; and they are not ignorant that,
notwithstanding the orders given to apprehend them, nobody has
yet been able to seize any of them. You will be acquitted by
restoring your friends the value of the things that are stolen;
and, blessed be God, you have enough left.
Waiting till day, the jeweller ordered the slave to mend the gate
of the house, which was broken up, as well as he could: after
which he returned to his ordinary house with his slave, making
sad reflections on what had befallen him. Ebn Thaher, said he to
himself, has been wiser than I; he foresaw the misfortune into
which I have blindly thrown myself: would to God I had never
meddled in this intrigue, which I fear will cost me my life!
It was scarcely day, when the report of the robbery had spread
through the city, and there came to the house a great many of the
jeweller's friends and neighbours, to testify their grief for
this misfortune, but were curious to know the particulars. He
thanked them for their affection, and was so much the better
satisfied, that he heard nobody speak of Schemselnihar or the
prince of Persia, which made him believe they were at their
houses. or in some secure place.
When the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something
to eat, but he could not taste a bit. About noon one of his
slaves came to tell him that a man was at the gate, whom he knew
not, and desired to speak with him. The jeweller, not willing to
receive a stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak
with him. Though you do not know me, said the man, I know you,
and am come to discourse with you on an important affair. The
jeweller prayed him to step in. No, answered the stranger; if you
please, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other
house. How know you, replied the jeweller, that I have another
house? I know well enough, answered the stranger: follow me, do
not fear any thing; I have something to communicate to you which
will please you. The jeweller went immediately with him; and
after he had considered by the way how the house they were going
to was robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive him.
When they were before the house, and the stranger saw the gate
half broken down, he said to the jeweller, I see you have told me
the truth; I will carry you to a place which will be more
convenient. He went on when he had spoken thus, and walked all
the rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller being weary
with walking, vexed to see night approach, and the stranger
having walked all day without acquainting him where he was going,
began to lose patience. Then they came to a path which led them
to the Tigris; and as soon as they came to the river, they
crossed in a little boat. The stranger led the jeweller through a
long street, where he had never been before, and, after taking
him through several streets, stopped at a gate, which he opened.
He caused the jeweller to go in, shut the gate, bolted it with a
huge iron bolt, and then conducted, him to a chamber, where there
were ten other men, all as great strangers to the jeweller as his
conductor.
The ten men received the jeweller without any compliments. They
bid him sit down; of which he had great need, for he was not only
weak with walking so far, but the fear be was in, on finding
himself with people whom he thought he had reason to dread, would
have disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to
supper, and, as soon as he came, it was served up. They washed
their hands, obliging the jeweller to do the like, and to sit at
table with them. After supper, the men asked him if he knew to
whom he spoke. He answered, No, and that he knew not the place he
was in. Tell us your last nights adventure, said they to him, and
conceal nothing from us. The jeweller, being astonished at this
discourse, answered, Gentlemen, it is probable you know it
already. That is true, replied they, the young man and the young
lady, who were at your house yesternight, told it us; but we
would know it from your own mouth. The jeweller needed no more to
be informed that they were the highwaymen who had broken up and
plundered his house. Gentlemen, said he, I am much troubled for
that young man and the lady; can you tell me any thing of them?
Upon the jeweller's inquiry if they knew any thing of the young
man and the young lady, the thieves answered, Be not concerned
for them; they are safe enough, and in good health: which saying,
they showed him two closets, where they assured him they were
separately shut up. They added, We are informed you only know
what relates to them; which we no sooner came to understand, than
we showed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing
them any injury, that we treated them with all the kindness we
were capable of on your account. You may secure yourself the like
favour, proceeded they, in regard to your own person, and put all
manner of confidence in us without the least reserve.
The jeweller, being heartened at this, and overjoyed to hear that
the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe, resolved to
engage the thieves yet further in their interest. For this
purpose he commended them, flattered them, and gave them a
thousand benedictions. Gentlemen, said he, I must confess I have
not the honour of knowing you; yet it is no small happiness to me
that I am not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be
sufficiently grateful for the favours which that knowledge has
procured me at your hands. Without mentioning so great an act of
humanity as that I lately received from you, I must needs say, I
am fully persuaded that no persons in the world can be so proper
to be trusted with a secret, and none more fit to undertake a
great enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by
your zeal, courage, and intrepidity. In confidence of these great
and good qualities, which are so much your due, I will not
scruple to relate to you my whole history, with that of the two
persons you found in my house.
After the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the thieves
to secrecy, he made no scruple to relate to them the whole amour
of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the beginning of
it to the time he received them into his house.
The thieves were greatly astonished at the surprising particulars
they heard, and could not forbear crying out, How! is it possible
that the young man should be the illustrious Ali Elm Becar,
prince of Persia; and the young lady the fair and celebrated
Schemselnihar! The jeweller assured them nothing was more
certain, and that they needed not to think it strange that
persons of so distinguished a character should not care to be
known.
Upon this assurance of their quality, the thieves went
immediately, one after the other, and threw themselves at their
feet, imploring pardon, and begging them to believe they would
never have offered any violence to their persons, had they known
who they were; but, seeing they did not, they would by their
future conduct do their best endeavours to make some recompence
at least for the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Having
made profound reverences, they returned to the jeweller, and told
him they were heartily sorry they could not restore all that had
been taken from him, some part of it being out of their
possession; but as for what remained, if he would content himself
with his plate, it should be forthwith put into his hands.
The jeweller was overjoyed at the favour; and after the thieves
had delivered the plate, they required the prince, Schemselnihar,
and him, to promise upon oath that they would not betray them,
and they would carry them to a place whence they might easily go
to their respective homes. The prince, Schemselnihar, and the
jeweller, replied, that they might rely on their words; but since
they desired an oath of them, they solemnly swore not to discover
them so long as they were with them. With this the thieves were
satisfied, and immediately set out to perform their promise.
By the way, the jeweller, being concerned that he could not see
the confident and the two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar and
begged her to inform him what was become of them. She answered,
she knew nothing of them, and that all she could tell him was,
that she was carried away from his house, ferried over a river,
and brought to the place from whence they were just now come.
Schemselnihar and the jeweller had no further discourse; they
found themselves at the brink of a river, whence the thieves
immediately took boat, and carried them to the other side.
Whilst the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, were landing,
they heard a noise as of horse-guards that were coming towards
them. The thieves no sooner perceived the danger, but they took
to their oars, and got over to the other side of the river in an
instant.
The commander of the brigade demanded of the prince,
Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they
came so late. This frightened them at first so much that they
could not speak; but at length the jeweller found his tongue, and
said, Sir, I can assure you, we are very honest people; but those
persons who have just landed us, and are got to the other side of
the water, are thieves, who, having last night broken open the
house that we were in, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to
an obscure inn, where, by some entreaty and good management, we
prevailed on them to let us have our liberty; to which end they
brought us hither. They have restored us part of the booty they
had taken from us. At these words he showed the plate he had
recovered.
The commander, not being satisfied with what the jeweller told
him, came up to him and the prince of Persia, and, looking
steadfastly at them, said, Tell me truly who is this lady? how
came you to know her? and whereabouts do you live?
This demand surprised them strangely, and tied their tongues,
insomuch that neither of them could answer; till at length
Schemselnihar, taking the commander aside, told him frankly who
she was; which he no sooner came to know, than he alighted, paid
both her and the company great respect, and caused two boats to
be got ready for their service.
When the boats were come, he put Schemselnihar into one, and the
prince of Persia and the jeweller into the other, with two of his
people in each: they had orders to accompany them whithersoever
they were bound. Being abroad, the two boats took different
routes; but we shall at present speak only of that wherein were
the prince and the jeweller.
The prince, to save his guides trouble, bid them land the
jeweller with him, and named the place whither he would go. The
guides, mistaking his orders, stopped just before the caliph's
palace, which put both him and the jeweller into a fright, though
he durst discover nothing of the matter; for though they had
heard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help
imagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, and brought
before the caliph next morning.
This, nevertheless, was not the intention of the guides; for,
after they had landed them, they, by their master's command,
recommended them to an officer of the guard, who next morning
assigned them soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's
chateau, which was at some distance from the river.
The prince being come home, what with the fatigue of his journey,
and the affliction he conceived at being never likely again to
see Schemselnihar, fell into a swoon on his sofa; and while the
greater part of his servants was endeavouring to recover him, the
other part gathered about the jeweller, and begged of him to tell
them what had happened to the prince their lord, whose absence
had occasioned inexpressible disquiet.
The jeweller, who would discover nothing to them that was not
prudent to be repealed, told them it was not a proper time for
such a relation, and that they would do better to go and assist
the prince, than require anything of him, especially at that
juncture. The prince fortunately came to himself that very
moment; when those that but just before required his history with
so much earnestness, began now to get at a distance, and pay that
respect which was due from them. Although the prince had in some
measure recovered himself, yet he continued so weak, that he
could not open his mouth. He answered only by signs, and that
even to his nearest relations who spoke to him. He remained in
the same condition till next morning, when the jeweller came to
take leave of him. His answer was only with a wink, holding forth
his right hand; but when he saw he was loaded with the bundle of
plate the thieves had taken from him, he made a sign to his
servants that they should take and carry it along with him to his
house.
The jeweller had been expected home with great impatience by his
family the day he went forth with the man that came to ask for
him, and whom he did not know; but no who was quite given over,
and it was no longer doubted that some disaster had befallen him.
His wife, children, and servants, were in continual grief, and
lamented him night and day; but at length, when they saw him
again, their joy was so great, they could hardly contain
themselves; yet they were troubled to find that his countenance
was greatly altered from what it had been before, insomuch that
he was hardly to be known. This was thought to have been
occasioned by his great fatigue, and the fears he had undergone,
which would not let him sleep. Finding himself something out of
order, he continued within doors for two days, and would admit
only one of his intimate friends to visit him.
The third day, perceiving himself better, he thought he might
regain strength by going abroad, and therefore went to the shop
of a rich friend of his, with whom he continued long in
discourse. As he was rising to go home, he observed a woman make
a sign to him, whom he presently knew to be the confident of
Schemselnihar. Partly out of fear, and partly through joy, he
made what haste he could away, without looking at her; but she
followed him, as he very well knew she would, the place in which
they saw each other being by no means proper for an interview. As
he walked a little faster than usual, she could not overtake him,
and therefore every now and then called out to stop. He heard
her, it is true; but, after what had happened, he did not think
fit to take notice of her in public, for fear of giving cause to
believe that he had been with Schemselnihar. In short, it was
known to every body in Bagdad that this woman belonged to her,
and therefore he thought it prudent to conceal his having any
knowledge of her. He continued the same pace, and at last came to
a mosque, where he knew but few people resorted; there he
entered, and she after him, wherein they had a long converse
together, without any body overhearing them.
Both the jeweller and the confident expressed a great deal of joy
at seeing each other after the strange adventure occasioned by
the thieves, and their reciprocal concern for each other's
welfare, without mentioning a word of what related to their own
particular persons.
The jeweller would needs have her relate to him how she escaped
with the two slaves, and what she knew of Sehemselnihar from the
time he had left her; but so great were her importunities to be
informed of what had happened to him from the time of their
unexpected separation, that he found himself obliged to comply.
Having finished what she desired, he told her that he expected
she would oblige him in her turn; which she did in the following
manner.
When I first saw the thieves, said she, I imagined, rightly
considered, that they were of the caliph's guard, who, being
informed of the escape of Schemselnihar, had sent them to take
away the lives of the prince and us all; but, being convinced of
the error of that thought, I immediately got upon the leads of
your house, at the same time that the thieves entered the chamber
where the prince and Schemselnihar were, and was soon after
followed by that lady's two slaves. From lead to lead, we came at
last to a house of very honest people, who received us with a
great deal of civility, and with whom we lodged that night.
Next morning, after we had returned thanks to the master of the
house for our good usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's hotel,
which we entered in great disorder, and the more so as we could
not learn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women
of Schemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their
lady. We told them we had left her at the house of a lady, one of
her friends, and that she would send for us when she had a mind
to come home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.
For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness; and when night
came, opening a little back gate, I espied a boat driven along by
the stream. Calling to the waterman, I desired him to row up the
river, to see if he could not meet a lady, and, if he found her,
to bring her along with him. The two slaves and I waited
impatiently for his return; and at length, about midnight, we saw
the boat coming down with two men in it, and a woman lying along
in the stern. When the boat came up, the two men helped the woman
to rise; and then it was that I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I
rejoiced so greatly to see her, that I cannot sufficiently
express myself.
I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat. She
had no small occasion for my assistance, for she could hardly
stand. When she was ashore, she whispered me in the ear in an
afflicted tone, bidding me go and take a purse of a thousand
pieces of gold, and give to the soldiers who had waited on her. I
obeyed, leaving her to be supported by the two slaves; and,
having paid the waterman, shut the back door.
I then followed my lady, who was hardly got to her chamber before
I overtook her. We undressed her, and put her to bed, where she
had not long been before she was ready to give up the ghost; in
which condition she continued the remainder of the night. The day
following, her other women expressed a great desire to see her;
but I told them she had been much fatigued, and wanted rest to
restore her. The other women and I, nevertheless, gave her all
the assistance we possibly could. She persisted in swallowing
nothing which we offered; and we must have despaired of her life,
had I not persuaded her to take a spoonful or two of wine, which
had a sensible effect on her. By mere importunity, we at length
prevailed upon her to eat also.
When she came to the use of her speech, for she had hitherto only
mourned, groaned, and sighed, I begged her to tell me how she
escaped out of the hands of the thieves. Why should you require
of me, said she, with a profound sigh, what will but renew my
grief? Would to God the thieves had taken away my life, rather
than preserved it, as in that case my misfortunes would have had
an end; whereas I now live but to increase my torment.
Madam, replied I, I beg you will not refuse me this favour. You
cannot but know that unhappy people have a certain consolation in
venting their misfortunes; and if you be pleased to relate yours,
I doubt not that you will find some relief in so doing.
Why then, said she, lend your ear to a story the most afflicting
that can be imagined. You must know, when I first saw the thieves
entering with sword in hand, I believed it the last moment of my
life: but dying did not then seem so shocking to me, since I
thought I was to die with the prince of Persia. However, instead
of murdering, two of the thieves were ordered to take care of us,
whilst their companions were busied in packing up the goods which
they found in the house. When they had done, and had got their
bundles upon their backs, they went away, carrying us along with
them.
As we went along one of those who had the charge of us demanded
of me briskly who I was: I answered, I was a dancer. He put the
same question to the prince, who replied that he was a
shopkeeper.
When they were come to the place whither they were going, I had
new fears to alarm me; for they gathered about us, and, after
considering well my habit, and the rich jewels I was adorned
with, they seemed to think that I had disguised my quality.
Dancers, said they, do not use to be dressed as you are; pray
tell us truly who you are.
When they saw I answered nothing, they asked the prince once
more who he was; for they told him they perceived he was not the
person he pretended. He did not satisfy them any more than I had
done; but only told them he came to see the jeweller, who was the
owner of the house where they found us. I know this jeweller,
said one of the rogues, who seemed to have some authority over
the rest; I have some obligations to him, of which he yet knows
nothing; and I take upon me to bring him hither to-morrow morning
from another house he has; but you must not expect to stir till
he come and tell us who you are; though, in the mean time, I
promise there shall be no manner of injury offered to you.
The jeweller was brought next morning, as he said; who, thinking
to oblige us, as he really did, declared to the rogues the whole
truth of the matter. The thieves no sooner knew who we were, but
they came and asked my pardon; and I believe did the like to the
prince, who was shut up in another room. They protested to me,
they would not have broken open the jeweller's house, had they
known whose it was. They soon after took us, (the prince, the
jeweller, and myself), and carried us to the river-side, where,
having put us on board the boat, they rowed us across the water;
but we were no sooner landed, than a party of the horse-guards
came up to us.
The rogues fled. I took the commander aside, and told him my
name, informing him withal, that the night before I had be seized
by robbers who forced me along with them; but having been told
who I was, they had re*aleased me, and the two persons he saw
with me, on my account. He alighted and paid his respects to me;
and expressing a great deal of joy for being able to oblige me,
he caused two boats to be brought, putting me and two of his
soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, and the prince, and
jeweller, with two more, into the other. My guides have conducted
me hither; but what is become of the prince and his friend, I
cannot tell.
I trust in Heaven, added she, with a shower of tears, no harm has
happened to them since our separation; and I do not doubt that
the prince's concern is equal to mine. The jeweller, to whom we
have been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss
he has sustained on our account. Do not you therefore fail, said
she, speaking to the confident, to take two purses of a thousand
pieces of gold each, and carry them to him to-morrow morning in
my name; and, at the same time, be sure to inquire after the
prince's welfare.
When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to the
last article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to calm her
mind, which was in some disorder, and to persuade her not to
yield so much to love, since the danger she had so lately escaped
would be soon renewed by such indulgence. She bid me hold my
tongue, and do what she had commanded. I was forced to be silent,
and am come hither to obey her commands without any further
scruple. I have been at your house, and, not finding you at home,
was about to have gone to wait on the prince of Persia, but did
not dare to attempt so great a journey. I have left the two
purses with a particular friend of mine, and, if you have
patience, I shall go and fetch them immediately.
The confident returned quickly to the jeweller in the mosque,
where she had left him. She gave him the two purses, and bid him
accept them for her lady's sake. They are more than necessary,
said the jeweller; and I can never be enough thankful for so
great a present from so good and generous a lady: but I beseech
you to acquaint her, on my behalf, that I shall preserve an
eternal remembrance of her bounties. He then agreed with the
confident, that she should find him at the place where she had
first seen him whenever she had occasion to impart any commands
from Schemselnihar, or to know any thing of the prince of Persia.
The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only that he
had got wherewithal plentifully to make up his losses, but also
to think that no person in Bagdad could possibly come to know of
the prince and Schemselnihar being in his other house when it was
robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but
their secrecy he thought might very well be depended on, as he
imagined they had not sufficient converse with the world to give
him any disturbance. He therefore hugged himself in his good
fortune, paid his debts, and furnished both his houses to a
nicety. Thus he forgot all his past danger, and next morning set
out to wait on the prince of Persia.
The prince's domestics told the jeweller, on his arrival, that he
came in very good time to make their lord speak, for they had not
been able to get a word out of him ever since he was there. They
introduced him softly into his chamber, where he found him in
such a condition as raised his pity. He was lying in bed, with
his eye-lids shut; but when the jeweller saluted him, and
exhorted him to take courage, be faintly opened his eyes, and
regarded him with such an aspect, as sufficiently declared the
greatness of his affliction. He, however, took and grasped him by
the hand, to testify his friendship, telling him, in a faint and
weak tone, that he was extremely obliged to him for coming so far
to seek one so exceedingly unhappy and miserable.
My lord, replied the jeweller, mention not, I beseech you, any
obligations you owe to me; I could wish, with all my soul, that
the good offices I have endeavoured to do you had had a better
effect. But, at present, let us discourse only of your health,
which I fear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from
proper nourishment.
The prince's servants, hearing the jeweller say this, took
occasion to let him know that it was with the greatest difficulty
they had prevailed on him to take even the smallest morsel and
that for some time he had taken nothing. This obliged the
jeweller to beg the prince to let his servants bring him
something to eat, which favour he obtained with much
intercession.
After the prince had eaten more largely than he had hitherto, at
the persuasion of the jeweller, he commanded the servants to quit
the room, and leave him alone with his friend. When the room was
clear, he said, In conjunction with my misfortune which distracts
me, I have been exceedingly concerned to think of what you have
suffered on my account; and as it is but reasonable that I should
make you a recompence, I shall be sure to take the first
opportunity; at present, however, begging only your pardon a
thousand times, I must conjure you to tell me whether you have
learnt any thing of Schemselnihar since I had the misfortune to
be parted from her.
Here the jeweller, upon the confident's information, related to
him all that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her hotel, her
state of health from the time he had left her, and how she had
sent her confident to him to inquire after his highness's
welfare.
To all this the prince replied with sighs and tears only; then he
made an effort to get up, and, being assisted by the jeweller,
made shift to rise. Being upon his legs, he called his servants,
and made them open his wardrobe, whither he went in person, and
having caused several bundles of rich goods and plate to be
packed up, ordered them to be carried to the jeweller's house.
The jeweller would fain have withstood this kind offer; but
although he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him
more than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince
would be obeyed. The jeweller thought himself obliged to make
every possible acknowledgment, and protested how much he was
confounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken
his leave, but the prince would not let him; so they passed in
discourse the greater part of the night.
Next morning the jeweller waited again on the prince before he
went away, but he would not let him stir; he must first sit down,
and hear what he had to say. You know, said he, there is an end
proposed in all things. Now, the end the lover proposes, is to
enjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If he loses
that hope, he must not think to live. You also know that this is
my hard case; for when I had been twice at the very point of
fulfilling my desires, I was all of a sudden torn from her I
loved in the most cruel manner imaginable: I had then no more to
do, but to think of death; and I had certainly proved my own
executioner, did not our holy laws forbid us to commit suicide.
But there is no need of such violent means; death will soon do
its own work by a sure though gentle method; I find myself in a
manner gone, and that I have not long to wait the welcome blow.
Here he was silent, and vented the rest of his passion only in
groans, sighs, and tears, which came from him in great abundance.
The jeweller, who knew no better way of turning him from despair
than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving him some
hopes of enjoying her, told him, he feared the confident might be
come from her lady, and therefore did not think it proper to stay
any longer from home. I will let you go, said the prince; but
conjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to assure
Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do every minute, I
will love her to the last moment, and bless her with my last
breath.
The jeweller returned home in expectation of seeing the
confident, who came some few hours after, but all in tears, and
in great affliction. He asked, with great earnestness, what was
the matter; she answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince,
herself, and he, were all ruined. He demanded how. Hear the sad
news, said she, as it was told me just upon my entering our
hotel, after I had left you.
Schemselnihar had, it seems, for some fault, chastised one of the
slaves you saw with her in your other house; the slave, enraged
at the ill treatment, ran presently, and, finding the gate open,
went forth; so that we have just reason to believe she has
discovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her
protection, as we have since heard.
This is not all. The other slave, her companion, is fled too, and
has taken refuge in the caliph's palace, so that we may well fear
she has acted her part in a discovery; for, just as I came away,
the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for Schemselnihar, who
carried her to the palace. I just found means to come and tell
you this, yet I fear no good will come of it; but, above all, I
recommend it to you as a secret.
The confident added, that it was expedient he should go and
acquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be ready
on all occasions, and contribute what he was able to the common
cause; upon which she departed in great haste, without speaking a
word more, or waiting for an answer.
What answer, however, could the jeweller have made, in the
deplorable condition he was placed? He stood still as if
thunderstruck, and had not a word to say. He was, however,
sensible that the affair required expedition, and therefore went
immediately to give the prince an account of it. He addressed
himself to him with an air that sufficiently showed the bad news
he brought. Prince, said he to him, arm yourself with courage and
patience, and prepare to receive the most terrible assault ever
yet made on your nature. Tell me, in few words, said the prince,
what it is I must prepare to receive; for if it be death only, I
am ready and willing to undergo it.
Then the jeweller told him all that he had learned from the
confident. You see, continued he, that your destruction is
inevitable, if you delay. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the
time is precious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to
the anger of the caliph, and should much less confess any thing
in the midst of torments.
At these words the prince was almost ready to expire with grief,
affliction, and fear; he recovered, however, and demanded of the
jeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this
unhappy conjuncture. The jeweller told him he thought nothing
more proper than that he should immediately take horse, and haste
away towards Anbar, [Footnote: Anbar is a city on the Tigris,
twenty leagues below Bagdad.] that he might get thither with all
convenient speed. Take what servants and horses you think
necessary, continued he, and suffer me to escape with you.
The prince, seeing nothing more advisable, immediately gave
orders for such an equipage as would be least troublesome; so
having put some money and jewels in his pocket, and taking leave
of his mother, he departed in company with the jeweller, and with
such servants as he had chosen. They travelled all that day and
the day following without stopping, till at length, about the
dusk of the evening, their horses and selves being greatly
fatigued, they alighted at an inn to refresh themselves.
They had hardly sat down, before they found themselves surrounded
and assaulted by a gang of thieves. They defended their lives for
some time courageously; but, at length, the prince's servants
being all killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield
at discretion. The thieves, however, spared their lives; but,
after they had seized their horses and baggage, they took away
their clothes, and left them naked.
In this condition, and after the thieves had left them, the
prince said to the jeweller, What is to be done, my friend, in
this conjuncture? Had I not better, think you, have tarried in
Bagdad, and undergone any fate, rather than have been reduced to
this extremity? My lord, replied the jeweller, it is the decree
of Heaven that we should thus suffer. It has pleased God to add
affliction to affliction, and we must not murmur at it, but
receive his chastisements with submission. Let us stay no longer
here, but go and look out for some place where we may be
concealed and relieved.
No, let me rather die, said the prince; for what signifies it
whether I die here or elsewhere? for die I know I must very
shortly. It may be, this very minute that we are talking,
Schemselnihar is no more! And why should I endeavour to live
after she is dead? The jeweller at length prevailed on him to go;
but they had not gone far before they came to a mosque, which,
being open, they entered, and passed there the remainder of the
night.
At day-break a single man came into the mosque to his devotion.
When he had ended his prayer, and was turning to go out, he
perceived the prince and the jeweller, who were sitting in a
corner to conceal themselves. He went up to them; and, saluting
them with a great deal of civility, said, By what I perceive,
gentlemen, you seem to be strangers.
The jeweller answered, You are not deceived, sir. We have been
robbed to-night in coming from Bagdad, and retired hither for
shelter. If you can relieve us in our necessities, we shall he
very much obliged to you, for we know nobody here to whom to
apply to. The man answered, If you think fit to come to my house,
I shall do what I can for you.
Upon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and
said in his ear, This man, as far as I can perceive, sir, does
not know us; therefore we had better go with him, than stay here
to be exposed to the sight of somebody that may. Do as you
please, said the prince; I am willing to be guided by your
discretion.
The man, observing the prince and jeweller consulting together,
thought they made some difficulty to accept his proposition;
wherefore he demanded of them if they were resolved what to do.
The jeweller answered, We are ready to follow you whither you
please; all that we make a difficulty about is to appear thus
naked.
Let not that trouble you, said the man; we shall find wherewithal
to clothe you, I warrant you. They were no sooner got to the
house, than he brought forth a very handsome suit for each of
them. Next, as he thought they must be very hungry, and have a
mind to go to bed, he had several plates of meat brought out to
them by a slave; but they ate little, particularly the prince,
who was so dejected and dispirited, as gave the jeweller cause to
fear he would die. They went to bed, and their host left them to
their repose; but they had no sooner lain down, than the jeweller
was forced to call him again to assist at the death of the
prince. He breathed short, and with difficulty; which gave him
reason to fear he had but a few minutes to live. Coming near him,
the prince said, It is done; and I am glad you are by, to be
witness of my last words. I quit this life with a great deal of
satisfaction; but I need not tell you the reason, for you know it
too well already. All the regret I have is, that I cannot die in
the arms of my dearest mother, who has always loved me with a
tenderness not to be expressed, and for whom I had a reciprocal
affection. She will undoubtedly be not a little grieved that she
could not close my eyes, and bury me with her own hands. But let
her know how much I was concerned at this; and desire her, in my
name, to have my corpse transported to Bagdad, that she may have
an opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my
departed soul with her prayers. He then took notice of the master
of the house, thanked him for the several favours he had received
from him, and desired him to let his body be deposited with him
till such time as it should be carried away to Bagdad. Having
said this, he turned aside and expired.
The day after the prince's death, the jeweller took the
opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and
arrived there some time after in safety. He first went home to
change his clothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace,
where every body was surprised that their lord was not come with
him. He desired them to acquaint the prince's mother that he must
speak to her immediately; and it was not long before he was
introduced to her. She was seated in a hall, with several of her
women about her. Madam, said he to her, with an air that
sufficiently denoted his ill news, God preserve your highness,
and shower down the choicest of his blessings upon you! You
cannot be ignorant that it is he alone who disposes of us all at
his pleasure.
The princess would not give him leave to go on, but cried out,
Alas, you bring me the deplorable news of my son's death! At
which words she and her women set up such a hideous outcry, as
soon brought fresh tears into the jeweller's eyes. She thus
tormented and grieved herself a long while before the unfortunate
messenger was allowed to go on. At length, however, she gave a
truce to her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue the
fatal relation, without concealing from her the least
circumstance. He did as she commanded; and, when he had done, she
further demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given him
in charge something more particular. He assured her his last
words were, that it was the greatest concern to him that he must
die so far distant from his dear mother, and that he earnestly
entreated she would be pleased to have his corpse transported to
Bagdad. Accordingly, next morning at day-break, the princess set
out, with her women and great part of her slaves, to bring her
son's body to her own palace.
The jeweller, having taken leave of her, returned home very sad
and melancholy, to think he had lost so good a friend, and so
accomplished a prince, in the flower of his age.
As he came near his house, dejected and musing, on a sudden
lifting up his eyes, he saw a woman in mourning and tears
standing before him. He presently knew her to be the confident,
who had stood there grieving for some time that she could not see
him. At the sight of her, his tears began to flow afresh, but he
said nothing to her; and, going into his own house, she followed
him.
They sat down, when the jeweller, beginning the dismal discourse,
asked the confident, with a deep sigh, if she had heard nothing
of the death of the prince of Persia, or if it was on his account
that she grieved? Alas! answered she; what! is that charming
prince then, dead? He has not lived long after his dear
Schemselnihar. Beauteous souls! continued she, in whatsoever
place ye now are, ye ought to be pleased that your loves will no
more be interrupted. Your bodies were before an obstacle to your
wishes; but now, being delivered from them, you may unite as
closely as you please.
The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and
had not observed that the confident was in mourning, through the
excessive grief that blinded him, was now afflicted anew. Is
Schemselnihar then dead? cried he, in great astonishment. She is
dead, replied the confident, weeping afresh; and it is for her
that I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death are
extraordinary, continued she; therefore it is but requisite you
should know them; but, before I give you an account of them, I
beg you to let me know those of the prince of Persia, whom, in
conjunction with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament
as long as I live.
The jeweller then gave the confident the satisfaction she
desired; and, after he had told her all, even to the departure of
the prince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began,
and said, You have not forgotten, I suppose, that I told you the
caliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace; and it is true,
as we had all the reason in the world to believe, he had been
informed of the amour between her and the prince by the two
slaves, whom he had examined apart. Now, you will be apt to
imagine he must of necessity be exceedingly enraged at
Schemselnihar, and discover many tokens of jealousy and revenge
against the prince; but I must tell you he had neither one nor
the other, aud lamented only his dear mistress forsaking him,
which he in some measure attributed to himself, in giving her so
much freedom to walk about the city without his eunuchs. This was
all the resentment he showed, as you will find by his carriage
towards her.
He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed
the sadness she was under, which nevertheless did not lessen her
beauty, with a goodness peculiar to himself, he said,
Schemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing thus before me with
an air of affliction. You must be sensible how much I have always
loved you by the continual demonstrations I have given you; and I
can never change my mind, for even now I love you more than ever.
You have enemies, Schemselnihar, proceeded he; and those enemies
have done you all the wrong they can. For this purpose they have
filled my ears with stories against you, which have not made the
least impression upon me. Shake off, then, this melancholy,
continued he, and prepare to entertain your lord this night after
your accustomed manner. He said many other obliging things to
her, and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment,
and stay for him.
The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the kindness the
caliph had for her; but the more she thought herself obliged to
him, the more she was concerned that she was so far off from the
prince, without whom she could not live, and yet was afraid she
should never see him more.
This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar, continued
the confident, was whilst I came to speak with you; and I learned
the particulars of it from my companions, who were present. But I
had no sooner left you, proceeded she, than I went to my dear
mistress again, and was an eye-witness to what happened
afterwards. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and, as
she thought I came from you, she came to me, and whispering in my
ear, said, I am much obliged to you for the service you have been
doing me, but fear it will be the last. I took no notice of her
words, and she said no more to me; but if I had a mind to say any
thing to comfort her, I was in a place by no means proper for
disclosing my thoughts.
The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments
upon which our women played, and the collation was immediately
served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit
down with him on the sofa; which she did with such regret, that
she expired some few minutes after. In short, she was hardly sat
down, when she fell backwards; which the caliph believed to be
only a swoon, and so we all thought; but when we endeavoured to
bring her to herself, we found she was quite gone, which you may
imagine not a little afflicted us.
The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to
refrain from tears, and, before he left the room, ordered all the
musical instruments to be broken, which was immediately executed.
For my part, I staid with her corpse all night, and next morning
bathed it with my tears, and dressed it for the funeral. The
caliph had her interred soon after in a magnificent tomb he had
erected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be
buried in. Now, since you tell me, said she, the prince of
Persia's body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best
endeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb, which may
be at least some satisfaction to two such faithful lovers.
The jeweller was somewhat surprised at this resolution of the
confident's, and said, Certainly you do not consider that this
enterprise is in a manner impossible, for the caliph will never
suffer it. Do not you be concerned at that, replied she; for you
will undoubtedly be of another opinion after I have told you that
the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves in general, with a
considerable pension to each for their subsistence; and as to me
in particular, has honoured me with the charge of my mistress's
tomb, and allotted me an annual income for my maintenance.
Moreover, you must think that the caliph, who was not ignorant of
the amour betweeen Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have
already told you, will not be a whit concerned if now, after her
death, he be buried with her. To all this the jeweller had not a
word to say, yet earnestly entreated the confident to conduct him
to her mistress's tomb, that he might say his prayers over her.
When he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to
find a vast number of people of both sexes, who were come thither
from all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he
said his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confident,
who waited hard by, he said to her, I am altogether of a contrary
opinion to what I was just now; for now I am so far from thinking
that what you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I
need only tell abroad what we know of the amour of this
unfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same
time with his mistress, and is now bringing up to be buried; the
people will bring the thing about, and not suffer that two such
faithful lovers should be separated when dead, whom nothing could
divide in affection whilst they lived. As he said, so it came to
pass; for as soon as it came to be known that the corpse was
within a day's journey of the city, the inhabitants almost of all
sorts went forth, met it above twenty miles off, and marched
before it, till it came to the city gate; where the confident,
waiting for that purpose, presented herself before the prince's
mother, and begged her, in the name of the whole city, that she
would be pleased to consent that the bodies of the two lovers,
who had but one heart whilst they lived, especially during their
amour, might be buried in the same tomb now they were dead. The
princess immediately consented; and the corpse of the prince,
instead of being deposited in his own burying-place, was laid by
Schemselnihar's side, after it had been carried in procession at
the head of an infinite number of people, of all conditions and
degrees: nay, from that very time, all the inhabitants of Bagdad,
and even strangers, from such parts of the world as honoured the
Mahometan religion, have had a mighty veneration for that tomb,
and paid their devotion at it as often as opportunity would give
them leave.
This, sir, said Scheherazade, who now perceived the day begin to
approach, is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the
amour of the fair Schemselnihar, mistress to the caliph Haroun
Alraschid, and the worthy Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.
When Dinarzade observed that her sister the sultaness had done
speaking, she thanked her in the most obliging manner for her
entertainment in a history so exceedingly agreeable.
If the sultan will be pleased to let me live till to-morrow, said
Scheherazade, I will also relate that of prince Camaralzaman
[Footnote: This word, in Arabic, signifies the Moon of the Time,
or the Moon of the Age.], which you will find yet more agreeable.
Here she stopped; and the sultan, who could not yet resolve on
her death, permitted her to go on next night in the following
manner.
THE STORY OF THE AMOURS OF
CAMARALZAMAN, PRINCE OF THE ISLES of THE
CHILDREN OF KHALEDAN; AND OF BADOURA,
PRINCESS OF CHINA.
About twenty days sail on the coast of Persia, there are islands
in the main ocean, called the islands of the Children of
Khaledan; these islands are divided into four great provinces,
which have all of them very flourishing and populous cities, and
which make together a most potent kingdom. It is governed by a
king named Schahzaman [Footnote: That is to say, in Persic, King
of the Time, or King of the Age.], who has four lawful wives, all
daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.
Schahzaman thought himself the most happy monarch of the world,
as well on account of his peaceful as prosperous reign. One thing
only disturbed his happiness, which was, that he was pretty old,
and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew not
what to attribute this barrenness to; and what increased his
affliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a
successor. He dissembled his discontent a long while; and, what
was yet more uneasy to him, he was constrained to dissemble. At
length, however, he broke silence; and one day, after he had
complained bitterly of his misfortune to his grand vizier, he
demanded of him if he knew any remedy for it.
That wise minister replied, If what your majesty requires of me
had depended on the ordinary methods of human wisdom, you had
soon had an answer to your satisfaction; but, as my experience
and knowledge are not sufficient to content you, I must advise
you to have recourse to the Divine Power alone, who, in the midst
of our prosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, is
pleased so to limit our discernment, that we may apply only to
his omniscience for what we have occasion to know. Your majesty
has subjects, proceeded he, who make a profession of loving and
honouring God, and suffering great hardships for his sake; to
them I would advise you to have recourse, and engage them by alms
to join their prayers with yours; it may be, some among them may
be so just and agreeable to God as to obtain what they pray for.
King Schahzaman approved of this advice very much, and thanked
his vizier for it: he immediately caused rich alms to be given to
every monastery in his dominions; and having sent for the
superiors, declared to them his intention, and desired them to
acquaint their monks with it.
The king, in short, obtained of Heaven what he requested; for in
nine months time he had a son born of one of his wives. In return
for this favour, he sent new alms to the religious houses; and
the prince's birth-day was celebrated throughout his dominions
for a week together. The prince was brought to him as soon as
born; and he found him so beautiful, that he gave him the name of
Camaralzaman; that is, the Moon of the Age.
He was educated with all the care imaginable; and when he came to
be old enough, his father appointed him a governor and able
preceptors. These distinguished persons found him capable of
receiving all the instructions that were proper to be given him,
as well in relation to morals, as to other knowledge a prince
ought to have. When he came to be somewhat older, he learned all
his exercises; of which he acquitted himself with so much grace
and wonderful address, that he charmed all who saw him, and
particularly the sultan his father.
Having attained the age of fifteen years, the sultan, who loved
him tenderly, thought of resigning his throne to him, and
acquainted his grand vizier with his intentions. I am afraid,
said he, lest my son should lose those advantages in youth which
nature and education have given him; therefore, since I am
somewhat advanced in age, and fit for a retreat, I have had
thoughts of resigning the government to him, and passing the
remainder of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I
have undergone the fatigue of a crown a long while, and think it
is now proper for me to retire.
The grand vizier would not offer all the reasons he could have
brought to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the
contrary, he agreed with him in some measure. Sir, replied he,
the prince is yet but young; and it would not, in my humble
opinion, be wholly advisable to burden him with the weight of a
crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with a great deal of reason,
that his youth may be corrupted; but then, to remedy that, does
not your majesty likewise think it would be proper to marry him,
marriage being what would keep him within bounds, and confine his
inclinations? Moreover, your majesty might then admit him of your
council, where he would learn by degrees the art of reigning, and
consequently be fit to receive your power, whenever you shall
think proper to bestow it on him.
Schahzaman found this advice of his prime minister highly
reasonable, and therefore summoned the prince to appear before
him, dismissing the grand vizier at the same time.
The prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at
certain times, was a little startled at this irregular summons;
therefore, when he came before him, he saluted him with great
respect, and afterwards stood still, with his eyes fixed on the
ground.
The sultan, perceiving his surprise, said to him in a mild way,
Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for you hither? No,
may it please your majesty, answered the prince, modestly: God
alone knows how to penetrate hearts. I should be glad to know of
your majesty for what reason? Why, I sent for you, said the
sultan, to let you know that I design to marry you: what do you
think of it?
Prince Camaralzaman heard this with great uneasiness; it quite
surprised him; he was all in a sweat, and knew not what answer to
make. After a few moments, however, he replied, Sir, I beseech
your majesty to pardon me, if I seem surprised at the declaration
you have made. I did not expect any such proposal to one so young
as I am; and besides, I know not whether I could ever prevail on
myself to marry, not only on account of the trouble wives bring a
man, and which I am very sensible of, though unmarried, but also
by reason of their many impostures, wickednesses, and
treacheries, which I have read of in authors. It may be, I may
not be always of the same mind; yet I cannot but think I ought to
have time to conclude on what your majesty requires of me.
Prince Camaralzaman's answer extremely afflicted his father; he
was not a little grieved to see what an aversion he had to
marriage, yet would not call his obedience in question, nor make
use of his paternal authority: he contented himself with telling
him that he would not force his inclinations, and gave him time
to consider of what he had proposed to him; yet wished him to
remember, that, as a prince designed to govern a great kingdom,
he ought to take some care to leave behind him a successor.
Schahzaman said no more to the prince: he admitted him into his
council, and gave him all the reason to be satisfied that could
be desired. About a year after, he took him aside, and said to
him, Well, son, have you thoroughly considered of what I proposed
to you last year about marrying? Will you still refuse me the
satisfaction I desire, and let me die without seeing myself
revive in your posterity?
The prince seemed less astonished than before; he now briskly
answered his father as follows: Sir, I have not neglected to
consider of what you proposed, and, upon the whole matter, I am
resolved to continue in the state I am, without concerning myself
with marriage, In short, sir, the many evils I have read that
women have caused in the world, and the continual mischiefs I
still hear and observe they do, have been the occasion of my
resolution to have nothing to do with them; so that, sir, I hope
your majesty will pardon me if I acquaint you, that it will be to
no purpose to solicit me any further about that affair. This
said, and making a low reverence, he went out briskly, without
staying to hear what the sultan would answer.
Now, any monarch but Schahzaman would have been in a violent
passion at such deportment of a son; but he took little notice of
it, resolving to use all gentle methods before he proceeded to
force. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his prime
minister. I have followed your advice, said he, but Camaralzaman
is further off than ever from complying with my desires. He
delivered his resolution in such arrogant terms, that I had all
the occasion in the world for my reason and moderation to keep me
from being in a passion. Fathers who desire favours of their
children, which they nevertheless can command, have themselves
alone to blame if they are disobeyed. But tell me, I beseech you,
how I shall reclaim this hardy young prince, who proves so
rebellious to my pleasure.
Sir, answered the grand vizier, patience brings many things about
which before seemed impracticable; but it may be that this affair
is of a nature not likely to succeed in that way. However, in my
judgment, your majesty would do well to give the prince another
year to consider of the matter; and if, when this is expired, he
still continues averse to your proposal, then your majesty may
propose it to him in full council, as a thing that is highly
necessary for the common good; it is not likely that he will
refuse to comply with it before so grave an assembly, and on so
necessary an account, whatever he has done before.
The sultan, who passionately desired to see his son married,
thought this long delay an age; however, though with much
difficulty, he at length yielded to his grand vizier's reasons,
which he could no way disapprove.
After the grand vizier was gone, sultan Schahzaman went to the
apartment of the mother of prince Camaralzaman, to whom he had
often discovered what an ardent desire he had to marry the
prince. When he had told her, with tears in his eyes, how his son
had refused to comply a second time, and that nevertheless,
through the advice of his grand vizer, he was induced to wait yet
a longer time for his compliance, he said, Madam, I know he will
hearken more to you than me, therefore I desire you would take
your time to speak to him seriously of the matter, and to let him
know that, if he persists much longer in his obstinacy, he will
oblige me to have recourse to extremities that may not be
pleasing to him, and which may give him cause to repent of having
disobeyed me.
Fatima, for so was the lady called, acquainted the prince, the
first time she saw him, that she had been informed of his second
refusal to be married, and how much chagrin he had occasioned his
father on that account. Madam, said the prince, I beseech you not
to renew my grief upon that head; for, if you do, I have reason
to fear, in the disquiet I am under, that something may escape me
which may not altogether correspond with the respect I owe you.
Fatima knew, by this answer, that it was not then a proper time
to speak to him; therefore deferred what she had to say till
another opportunity.
Some considerable time after, Fatima thought she had met with a
more favourable occasion, which gave her hopes of being heard
upon the subject; she therefore accosted him with all the
eagerness imaginable: Son, said she, I beg of you, if it be not
very irksome to you, to tell me what reason you have for your so
great aversion to marriage? If you have no other than the badness
and wickedness of some women, there can be nothing less
reasonable, or more weak. I will not undertake the defence of
those who are bad, there are a great number of them undoubtedly;
but it would be the greatest injustice imaginable to condemn all
the sex for their sakes. Alas, son! you have met with a great
many bad women in your books, who have occasioned great
disorders, and I will not excuse them; but you do not consider
how many monarchs, sultans, and other princes, there have been in
the world, whose tyrannies, barbarities, and cruelties,
astonished those who read of them, and which I have myself. Now,
for one woman who is thus wicked, you will meet with a thousand
of these tyrants and barbarians; and what torment, do you think,
must a good woman undergo, for such there are, who is united to
one of these wretches?
Madam, replied Camaralzaman, I doubt not but there is a great
number of wise, virtuous, good, affable, and generous women, in
the world; and would to God they all resembled you! But what
pierces me, is the doubtful choice a man is obliged to make; and
oftentimes one has not even that liberty.
Let us suppose, then, Madam, continued he, that I had a mind to
marry, as the sultan my father so earnestly desires I should;
what wife, think you, would he be likely to provide for me?
Probably a princess, whom he would demand of some neighbouring
prince, and who would think it an honour done him to send her to
him. Fair or ugly, good or ill-humoured, she must be accepted;
nay, suppose no other princess excelled her in beauty, yet who
can be certain that her temper would be of equal goodness; that
she would be affable, complaisant, entertaining, obliging, and
the like; that her discourse would generally run on solid
matters, and not on trifles, such as dress, adjustments,
ornaments, and the like fooleries, which would disgust any man of
sense? In a word, that she would not be haughty, proud, arrogant,
impertinent, scornful, and waste a man's estate in frivolous
expences, such as gaudy clothes, unnecessary jewels, toys, and
the like long train of magnificent follies.
Thus you see, madam, continued he, how many reasons a man may
have to be disgusted at marriage. Well, but to go further: let
this princess be ever so perfect, accomplished, and
irreproachable, I have yet a great many more reasons not to
desist from my sentiment, or depart from my resolution.
What, son, replied Fatima; have you then more reasons than those
you have already advanced? I do not doubt but that I shall find
wherewithal to answer them, and stop your mouth with a word. Very
well, madam, replied the prince; and perhaps I may find
wherewithal to reply to your answer.
I mean, son, said Fatima, that it is easy for a prince, who has
had the misfortune to marry such a wife as you describe, to get
rid of her, and take such care that she may not prejudice his
estate. Ah, but, madam, replied the prince, you do not consider
what a mortification it would be to a person of so great quality
to be obliged to come to an extremity of that nature. Would it
not have been better, think you, and much more for his honour and
quiet, that he had never run such a risk?
But, son, said Fatima once more, after the manner you understand
things, I apprehend you have a mind to be the last king of your
race, who have nevertheless reigned so long and gloriously in the
isles of the Children of Khaledan.
Madam, replied the prince, for my part I do not desire to survive
the king my father; and if I should die before him, it would be
no great matter of wonder, since so many children have died
before their parents. But as for my leaving no successor, I am of
opinion it is much better to be the last of one's race, than
father to a bad prince, or husband to a bad wife.
From that time Fatima had frequent conferences with her son the
prince on the same subject, and omitted no opportunity or
argument to endeavour rooting out his aversion to the fair sex;
but he eluded all her reasonings by such as she could not well
answer, and continued in the same mind.
The year expired, and, to the great regret of the sultan, prince
Camaralzaman gave not the least proof of having changed his
sentiments; so that one day, when there was a great council held,
the prime vizier and other viziers, the principal officers of the
crown, and the generals of the army, being present, the sultan
spoke thus to the prince: Son, it is now a long while since I
have earnestly desired to see you married; and I imagined you
would have had more complaisance for a father, who required
nothing unreasonable of you, than to oppose him so long. But,
after so great resistance on your part, which has almost worn out
my patience, I have thought fit to propose the same thing once
more to you in presence of my council. Now I would have you to
consider, that the favour I desire is not only to oblige me, but
to comply with the earnest request of the estates of my
dominions, who, for the common good of us all, in conjunction
with me, require it of you. Declare then, before these lords
present, whether you will marry or not; that, according to your
answer, I may proceed, and take those measures which I ought.
The prince answered with so little temper, or rather with so much
heat, that the sultan, enraged to see himself affronted in full
council, cried out, How, unnatural son! have you the insolence to
talk thus to your father and sultan? Ho! guards, take him away!
At these words he was seized by the eunuchs, and carried to an
old tower that had been uninhabited a long while; where he was
shut up, with only a bed, a few moveables, some books, and one
slave only to attend him.
Camaralzaman, thus deprived of liberty, was nevertheless pleased
that he had the freedom to converse with books, which made him
look on his confinement with some indifference. In the evening he
bathed, and said his prayers; and, after having read some
chapters in the alcoran with the same tranquillity of mind as if
he had been in the sultan's palace, undressed himself, and went
to bed, leaving his lamp burning by him all the while he slept.
In this tower was a well, which served for a retreat to a certain
fairy named Maimoune, daughter of Damriel, king or head of a
legion of genii. It was about midnight when this Maimoune came
forth silently, to wander about the world after her wonted
custom. She was surprised to see a light in prince Camaralzaman's
chamber. She entered it; and, without stopping at the slave who
lay at the door, approached the bed, whose magnificence, though
very great, she did not so much wonder at, as that there should
be a man in it.
Prince Camaralzaman had but half covered his face with the
bed-clothes, by which Maimoune could perceive that he was the
finest young man she had seen in all her rambles through the
world. What beauty, or rather what prodigy of beauty, said she
within herself, will this youth appear, when his so well formed
eye-lids shall be open? What crime can he have committed, to
deserve this rigorous treatment?
She could not forbear admiring the prince, till at length, having
kissed him gently on both cheeks, and in the middle of the
forehead, without waking him, she laid the bed-clothes in the
order they were in before, and took her flight into the air. As
she mounted to the middle region, she heard a great clapping of
wings, which induced her to fly towards that side; and, when she
approached, she saw the genius that made the noise, but he was
one of those who are rebellious to God. As for Maimoune, she
belonged to that class whom the great Solomon forced to conform.
This genius, whose name was Danhasch, the son of Schamhourasch,
knew Maimoune; but did not dare to take notice of her, being
sensible how much power she had over him, by her submission to
the Almighty. He would have avoided her, but she was so near him,
that he must either fight or yield.
Brave Maimoune, said Danhasch, in the tone of a supplicant, swear
to me, in the name of the Great Power, that you will not hurt me;
and I swear also, on my part, not to do you any harm?
Cursed genius! replied Maimoune, what hurt canst thou do me? I
fear thee not; but as thou hast desired this favour of me, I
swear not to do thee any harm. Tell me, then, wandering spirit,
whence thou comest, what thou hast seen, and what mischief thou
hast done this night? Fair lady, answered Danhasch, you meet me
in a good time to hear something that is very wonderful.