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VATHEK;
AN ARABIAN TALE,
* * * * *
BY
WILLIAM BECKFORD, ESQ.
* * * * *
WITH
NOTES, CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
* * * * *
LONDON:
GEORGE SLATER, 252, STRAND.
* * * * *
1849.
MEMOIR.
BY WILLIAM NORTH.
WILLIAM BECKFORD, the author of the following celebrated Eastern tale,
was born in 1760, and died in the spring of 1844, at the advanced age of
eighty-four years. It is to be regretted, that a man of so remarkable a
character, did not leave the world some record of a life offering points
of interest different from that of any of his contemporaries, from the
peculiarly studious retirement and eccentric avocations in which it was
chiefly passed. Such a memoir would have formed a curious contrast with
that of the late M. de Chateaubriand, who, born nearly at the same
period, outlived but by a few years, the strange Englishman, whose famous
romance forms a brilliant ornament to French literature, which even Atala
is unlikely to outlive in the memory of Chateaubriand’s countrymen. All
men of genius should write autobiographies. Such works are inestimable
lessons to posterity. As it is, there are few men, of whom it is more
difficult to compose an elaborate and detailed history than the author of
“Vathek.” From such scanty sources as are open to us, the reader must be
content with a few striking facts and illustrations, which may serve to
convey some idea of the idiosyncrasy of a man, whose whole life was a
sort of mystery, even to his personal acquaintances.
His great-great-grandfather was lieutenant-governor and commander of the
forces in Jamaica; and his grandfather president of the council in the
same island. His father, though not a merchant, as has been represented,
but a large landed proprietor, both in England and the West Indies, was
lord mayor of London, and distinguished himself in presenting an address
to the king, George the Third,—by a spirited retort to his majesty,—who
had the ill-breeding to treat discourteously a deputation which the lord
mayor headed. The portraits of Alderman Beckford, and his more
celebrated son, were painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The former died in
1770, leaving the subject of this memoir the wealthiest commoner in
England.
No pains were spared on the education of the young Croesus—the lords
Chatham and Camden being consulted by his father on that subject.
Besides Latin and Greek, he spoke five modern languages, and wrote three
with facility and elegance. He read Persian and Arabic, designed with
great skill, and studied the science of music under the great Mozart.
At the age of eighteen he visited Paris, and was introduced to Voltaire.
“On taking leave of me,” said Beckford, “he placed his hand on my head,
saying, ‘There, young Englishman, I give you the blessing of a very old
man.’ Voltaire was a mere skeleton—a bony anatomy. His countenance I
shall never forget.”
His first literary production, “Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters,” was
written at the early age of seventeen. It would appear, that the old
housekeeper at Fonthill, was in the habit of edifying visitors to its
picture gallery by a description of the paintings, mainly derived from
her own fertile imagination. This suggested to our author, the humorous
idea of composing a catalogue of suppositious painters with histories of
each, equally fanciful and grotesque. Henceforward, the old housekeeper
had a printed guide (or rather, mis-guider) to go by, and could discourse
at large on the merits of Og of Bashan! Waterslouchy of Amsterdam! and
Herr Sucrewasser of Vienna! their wives and styles! As for the country
squires, etc., “they,” Beckford tells us, “took all for gospel.”
“Vathek,”—the superb “Vathek,” which Lord Byron so much admired, and on
which he so frequently complimented the author,—“Vathek,” the finest of
Oriental romances, as “Lallah Rookh” is the first of Oriental poems, by
the pen of a “Frank,” was written and published before our author had
completed his twentieth year, it having been composed at a _single
sitting_! Yes, for three days and two nights did the indefatigable
author persevere in his task. He completed it, and a serious illness was
the result. What other literary man ever equalled this feat of rapidity
and genius?
“Vathek” was originally written in French, of which its style is a model.
The translation which follows, is not by the author himself, though he
expressed perfect satisfaction with it. It was originally published in
1786. For splendour of description, exquisite humour, and supernatural
interest and grandeur, it stands without a rival in romance. In as
thoroughly Oriental keeping, Hope’s “Anastasius, or Memoirs of a Modern
Greek,” which Beckford himself highly admired, can alone be compared with
it.
Much of the description of Vathek’s palace, and even the renowned “Hall
of Eblis,” was afterwards visibly embodied in the real Fonthill Abbey, of
which wonders, almost as fabulous, were at one time reported and
believed.
Fonthill Abbey, which had been destroyed by fire, and re-built during the
life-time of the elder Beckford, was on account of its bad site
demolished, and again re-built under the superintendence of our author
himself, assisted by James Wyatt, Esq., the architect, with a
magnificence that excited the greatest attention and wonder at the time.
The total outlay of building Fonthill, including furniture, articles of
virtu, etc., must have been enormous, not much within the million, as
estimated by the “Times.” A writer in the “Athenæum” mentions £400,000
as the sum. Beckford informed Mr. Cyrus Redding, that the exact cost of
building Fonthill was £273,000.
The distinguishing architectural peculiarity of Fonthill Abbey, was a
lofty tower, 280 feet in height. This tower was prominently shadowed
forth in “Vathek,” and shows how strong a hold the idea had upon his
mind. Such was his impatience to see Fonthill completed, that he had the
works continued by torchlight, with relays of workmen. During the
progress of the building, the tower caught fire, and was partly
destroyed. The owner, however, was present, and enjoyed the magnificent
burning spectacle. It was soon restored; but a radical fault in laying
the foundation, caused it eventually to fall down, and leave Fonthill a
ruin in the life-time of its founder.
Not so much his extravagant mode of life, which is the common notion, as
the loss of two large estates in a law suit (the value of which may be
inferred from the fact, that _fifteen hundred slaves_ were upon them)
induced our author to quit Fonthill, and offer it and its contents for
public sale. There was a general desire to see the interior of the
palace, in which its lord had lived in a luxurious seclusion, so little
admired by the curious of the fashionable world. “He is fortunate,” says
the “Times” of 1822, “who finds a vacant chair within twenty miles of
Fonthill; the solitude of a private apartment is a luxury which few can
hope for.” . . . “Falstaff himself could not _take his ease_ at this
moment within a dozen leagues of Fonthill.” . . . “The beds through the
county are (literally) doing double duty—people who come in from a
distance during the night must wait to go to bed until others get up in
the morning.” . . . “Not a farm-house, however humble,—not a cottage near
Fonthill, but gives shelter to fashion, to beauty, and rank; ostrich
plumes, which, by their very waving, we can trace back to Piccadilly, are
seen nodding at a casement window over a depopulated poultry-yard.”
The costly treasures of art and virtu, as well as the furniture of the
rich mansion, were scattered far and wide; and one of its tables served
the writer of this memoir to scribble upon, when first stern necessity,
or yet sterner ambition, urged him to add his mite to the Babel tower of
literature. At that table I first read “Vathek.” I have read it often
since, and every perusal has increased my admiration.
Nearly fifty years after the publication of “Vathek,” in 1835, Mr.
Beckford published his “Recollections of an Excursion to the Monasteries
of Alcobaca and Batalha,” which he had taken in 1795, together with an
epistolatory record of his observations in Italy, Spain and Portugal,
between the years 1780 and 1794. These are marked, as he himself
intimates, “with the bloom and heyday of youthful spirits and youthful
confidence, at a period when the older order of things existed with all
its picturesque pomps and absurdities; when Venice enjoyed her Piombi and
sub-marine dungeons; Prance her Bastille; the Peninsula her Holy
Inquisition.” With none of those subjects, however, are the letters
occupied—but with delineations of landscape, and the effects of natural
phenomena. These literary efforts appear to have exhausted their
author’s productive powers; in a word, he seems soon to have been
“used-up,” and then to have discontinued his search after new sensations,
or to have been content to live without them.
After the sale of Fonthill, our author lived a considerable time in
Portugal, and hence Lord Byron, who was fond of casting the shadow of his
own imagination over every object, penned the well-known lines at Cintra:
“There thou, too, Vathek, England’s wealthiest son,
Once formed thy paradise; as not aware
Where wanton wealth her mightiest deeds hath done,
Meek peace, voluptuous lures, was ever wont to shun.
Here didst thou dwell; here scenes of pleasure plan,
Beneath yon mountain’s ever beauteous brow;
But now, as if a thing unblest by man,
Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou!
Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow
To halls deserted; portals gaping wide
Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom; how
Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied,
Swept into wrecks anon by time’s ungentle tide.”
These sombre verses contrast strangely with Beckford’s saying to Mr.
Cyrus Redding, in his seventy-sixth year, “that he had never felt a
moments’ ennui in his life.”
Beckford was in person scarcely above the middle height, slender, and
well formed, with features indicating great intellectual power. He was
exactly one year younger than Pitt, the companion of his minority. His
political principles were popular, though it is recorded, that at a court
ball on the Queen’s birth-day, in 1782, he, with Miss North, led up a
country dance. He sat in parliament, in his early years, both for Wells
and Hendon, but retired on account of bad health. This, however, he
overcame by careful diet and exercise, as testified by his great bodily
activity almost to the last. He was a man of most extensive reading, and
cultivated taste.
The last years of his life were passed at Bath—where he united two houses
in Lansdown Crescent, by an arch thrown across the street, and containing
his library, which was well selected, and very extensive. Not far off,
he again erected a tower, 180 feet high, of which the following
description was given at the time of his decease, by a correspondent of
the Athenæum:—
“Mr. Beckford, at an early period of his residence there, erected a lofty
tower, in the apartments of which were placed many of his choicest
paintings and articles of virtu. Asiatic in its style, with gilded
lattices and blinds, or curtains, of crimson cloth, its striped ceilings,
its minaret, and other accessories, conveyed the idea that the being who
designed the place and endeavoured to carry out the plan, was deeply
imbued with the spirit of that lonely grandeur and strict solitariness
which obtains through all countries and among all people of the East.
The building was surrounded by a high wall, and entrance afforded to the
garden in which the tower stood, by a door of small dimensions. The
garden itself was Eastern in its character. Though comparatively
circumscribed in its size, nevertheless were to be found within it,
solitary walks and deep retiring shades, such as could be supposed
Vathek, the mournful and the magnificent, loved, and from the bowers of
which might be expected would suddenly fall upon the ear, sounds of the
cymbal and the dulcimer. The building contained several apartments
crowded with the finest paintings. At the time I made my inspection the
walls were crowded with the choicest productions of the easel. The
memory falls back upon ineffaceable impressions of Old Franks, Breughel,
Cuyp, Titian, (a Holy Family), Hondekooter, Polemberg, and a host of
other painters whose works have immortalized Art. Ornaments of the most
exquisite gold fillagree, carvings in ivory and wood, Raphaelesque china,
goblets formed of gems, others fashioned by the miraculous hands of
Benvenuto Cellini, filled the many cabinets and _recherché_ receptacles
created for such things. The doors of the rooms were of finely polished
wood—the windows of single sweeps of plate glass—the cornices of gilded
silver; every part, both within and without, bespeaking the wealth, the
magnificence, and the taste of him who had built this temple in
dedication to grandeur, solitariness, and the arts.”
From the summit of this tower, Mr. Beckford, and he alone without a
telescope,—could behold that other tower of his youthful magnificence,
Fonthill; on which he loved to gaze, with feelings which it would be
difficult to describe. His eyesight was wonderful; he could gaze upon
the sun like an eagle; and on the day that the great tower at Fonthill
fell he missed it in the landscape long before the news of the
catastrophe reached Bath.
In conclusion, we have only to add, that our author, in his life-time,
had all that wealth can give, and in his grave his memory will retain
that which no wealth can purchase. Whatever may have been his errors,
they have died with him. His genius yet lives, and “Vathek,” now for the
first time presented to the public in a popular form, will, whilst
English literature lasts, never want readers, and, while good taste
flourishes, admirers.
PREFACE.
THE original of the following story, with some others of a similar kind,
collected in the east by a man of letters, was communicated to the editor
above three years ago. The pleasure he received from the perusal of it
induced him at that time to transcribe, and since to translate it. How
far the copy may be a just representation it becomes not him to
determine. He presumes however to hope that if the difficulty of
accommodating our English idioms to the Arabic, preserving the
correspondent tones of a diversified narration, and discriminating the
nicer touches of character through the shades of foreign manners be duly
considered, a failure in some points will not preclude him from all claim
to indulgence; especially if those images, sentiments, and passions,
which being independent of local peculiarities, may be expressed in every
language, shall be found to retain their native energy in our own.
VATHEK.
VATHEK, ninth Caliph {7a} of the race of the Abassides, was the son of
Motassem, and the grandson of Haroun Al Raschid. From an early accession
to the throne, and the talents he possessed to adorn it, his subjects
were induced to expect that his reign would be long and happy. His
figure was pleasing and majestic; but when he was angry, one of his eyes
became so terrible {7b} that no person could bear to behold it; and the
wretch upon whom it was fixed instantly fell backward, and sometimes
expired. For fear, however, of depopulating his dominions, and making
his palace desolate, he but rarely gave way to his anger.
Being much addicted to women, and the pleasures of the table, he sought
by his affability to procure agreeable companions; and he succeeded the
better, as his generosity was unbounded and his indulgences unrestrained;
for he was by no means scrupulous: nor did he think, with the Caliph Omar
Ben Abdalaziz, {8a} that it was necessary to make a hell of this world to
enjoy Paradise in the next.
He surpassed in magnificence all his predecessors. The palace of
Alkoremmi, which his father Motassem had erected on the hill of Pied
Horses, and which commanded the whole city of Samarah, {8b} was in his
idea far too scanty: he added, therefore, five wings, or rather other
palaces, which he destined for the particular gratification of each of
his senses.
In the first of these were tables continually covered with the most
exquisite dainties, which were supplied both by night and by day
according to their constant consumption; whilst the most delicious wines,
and the choicest cordials, flowed forth from a hundred fountains, that
were never exhausted. This palace was called “The Eternal, or
Unsatiating Banquet.”
The second was styled “The Temple of Melody, or the Nectar of the Soul.”
It was inhabited by the most skilful musicians and admired poets of the
time, who not only displayed their talents within, but dispersing in
bands without, caused every surrounding scene to reverberate their songs,
which were continually varied in the most delightful succession.
The palace named “The Delight of the Eyes, or the Support of Memory,” was
one entire enchantment. Rarities collected from every corner of the
earth were there found in such profusion as to dazzle and confound, but
for the order in which they were arranged. One gallery exhibited the
pictures of the celebrated Mani; and statues that seemed to be alive.
Here a well-managed perspective attracted the sight; there, the magic of
optics agreeably deceived it; whilst the naturalist, on his part,
exhibited in their several classes the various gifts that heaven had
bestowed on our globe. In a word, Vathek omitted nothing in this
particular that might gratify the curiosity of those who resorted to it,
although he was not able to satisfy his own; for he was, of all men, the
most curious.
“The Palace of Perfumes,” which was termed likewise, “The Incentive to
Pleasure,” consisted of various halls, where the different perfumes which
the earth produces were kept perpetually burning in censers of gold.
Flambeaus and aromatic lamps were here lighted in open day; but the too
powerful effects of this agreeable delirium might be avoided by
descending into an immense garden, where an assemblage of every fragrant
flower diffused through the air the purest odours.
The fifth palace, denominated “The Retreat of Joy, or the Dangerous,” was
frequented by troops of young females, beautiful as the Houris, {9} and
not less seducing, who never failed to receive with caresses all whom the
Caliph allowed to approach them; for he was by no means disposed to be
jealous, as his own women were secluded within the palace he inhabited
himself.
Notwithstanding the sensuality in which Vathek indulged, he experienced
no abatement in the love of his people, who thought that a sovereign
immersed in pleasure was not less tolerable to his subjects than one that
employed himself in creating them foes. But the unquiet and impetuous
disposition of the Caliph would not allow him to rest there: he had
studied so much for his amusement in the life-time of his father as to
acquire a great deal of knowledge, though not a sufficiency to satisfy
himself; for he wished to know everything; even sciences that did not
exist. He was fond of engaging in disputes with the learned, but liked
them not to push their opposition with warmth. He stopped the mouths of
those with presents, whose mouths could be stopped; whilst others, whom
his liberality was unable to subdue, he sent to prison to cool their
blood; a remedy that often succeeded.
Vathek discovered also a predilection for theological controversy; but it
was not with the orthodox that he usually held. By this means he induced
the zealots to oppose him, and then persecuted them in return; for he
resolved, at any rate, to have reason on his side.
The great prophet Mahomet, whose vicars the Caliphs are, beheld with
indignation from his abode in the seventh heaven the irreligious conduct
of such a vicegerent.
“Let us leave him to himself,” said he to the Genii, {10} who are always
ready to receive his commands; “let us see to what lengths his folly and
impiety will carry him; if he run into excess we shall know how to
chastise him. Assist him, therefore, to complete the tower which, in
imitation of Nimrod, he hath begun; not, like that great warrior, to
escape being drowned, but from the insolent curiosity of penetrating the
secrets of heaven: he will not divine the fate that awaits him.”
The Genii obeyed; and when the workmen had raised their structure a cubit
in the day time, two cubits more were added in the night. The expedition
with which the fabric arose was not a little flattering to the vanity of
Vathek. He fancied that even insensible matter showed forwardness to
subserve his designs; not considering that the successes of the foolish
and wicked form the first rod of their chastisement.
His pride arrived at its height when, having ascended, for the first
time, the eleven thousand stairs of his tower, he cast his eyes below and
beheld men not larger than pismires; mountains than shells; and cities
than bee-hives. The idea which such an elevation inspired of his own
grandeur completely bewildered him; he was almost ready to adore himself;
till lifting his eyes upwards, he saw the stars as high above him as they
appeared when he stood on the surface of the earth. He consoled himself,
however, for this transient perception of his littleness with the thought
of being great in the eyes of the others, and flattered himself that the
light of his mind would extend beyond the reach of his sight, and
transfer to the stars the decrees of his destiny.
With this view the inquisitive prince passed most of his nights on the
summit of his tower, till he became an adept in the mysteries of
astrology, and imagined that the planets had disclosed to him the most
marvellous adventures, which were to be accomplished by an extraordinary
personage, from a country altogether unknown. Prompted by motives of
curiosity, he had always been courteous to strangers; but from this
instant he redoubled his attention, and ordered it to be announced by
sound of trumpet, through all the streets of Samarah, that no one of his
subjects, on peril of his displeasure, should either lodge or detain a
traveller, but forthwith bring him to the palace.
Not long after this proclamation, there arrived in his metropolis, a man
so hideous that the very guards who arrested him were forced to shut
their eyes as they led him along. The Caliph himself appeared startled
at so horrible a visage; but joy succeeded to this emotion of terror when
the stranger displayed to his view such rarities as he had never before
seen, and of which he had no conception.
In reality, nothing was ever so extraordinary as the merchandise this
stranger produced. Most of his curiosities, which were not less
admirable for their workmanship than their splendour, had besides, their
several virtues described on a parchment fastened to each. There were
slippers which enabled the feet to walk; knives that cut without the
motion of a hand; sabres which dealt the blow at the person they were
wished to strike; and the whole enriched with gems that were hitherto
unknown.
The sabres, whose blades emitted a dazzling radiance, fixed more than all
the Caliph’s attention, who promised himself to decipher at his leisure
the uncouth characters engraven on their sides. Without, therefore,
demanding their price, he ordered all the coined gold to be brought from
his treasury, and commanded the merchant to take what he pleased. The
stranger complied with modesty and silence.
Vathek, imagining that the merchant’s taciturnity was occasioned by the
awe which his presence inspired, encouraged him to advance, and asked
him, with an air of condescension, “Who he was? whence he came? and where
he obtained such beautiful commodities?”
The man, or rather monster, instead of making a reply, thrice rubbed his
forehead, which, as well as his body, was blacker than ebony; four times
clapped his paunch, the projection of which was enormous; opened wide his
huge eyes, which glowed like firebrands; began to laugh with a hideous
noise, and discovered his long amber coloured teeth bestreaked with
green.
The Caliph, though a little startled, renewed his enquiries, but without
being able to procure a reply. At which, beginning to be ruffled, he
exclaimed, “knowest thou, varlet, who I am? and at whom thou art aiming
thy gibes?” Then addressing his guards, “have ye heard him speak? is he
dumb?”
“He hath spoken,” they replied, “though but little.”
“Let him speak then again,” said Vathek, “and tell me who he is, from
whence he came, and where he procured these singular curiosities, or I
swear, by the ass of Balaam, that I will make him rue his pertinacity.”
This menace was accompanied by the Caliph with one of his angry and
perilous glances, which the stranger sustained without the slightest
emotion, although his eyes were fixed on the terrible eye of the prince.
No words can describe the amazement of the courtiers, when they beheld
this rude merchant withstand the encounter unshocked. They all fell
prostrate with their faces on the ground, to avoid the risk of their
lives, and continued in the same abject posture till the Caliph exclaimed
in a furious tone:
“Up, cowards! seize the miscreant! see that he be committed to prison,
and guarded by the best of my soldiers! Let him, however, retain the
money I gave him; it is not my intent to take from him his property, I
only want him to speak.”
No sooner had he uttered these words than the stranger was surrounded,
pinioned with strong fetters, and hurried away to the prison of the great
tower, which was encompassed by seven empalements of iron bars, and armed
with spikes in every direction, longer and sharper than spits.
The Caliph, nevertheless, remained in the most violent agitation. He sat
down indeed to eat, but of the three hundred covers that were daily
placed before him, could taste of no more than thirty-two.
A diet to which he had been so little accustomed, was sufficient of
itself to prevent him from sleeping, what then must be its effect when
joined to the anxiety that prayed upon his spirits? At the first glimpse
of dawn he hastened to the prison, again to importune this intractable
stranger; but the rage of Vathek exceeded all bounds on finding the
prison empty, the gates burst asunder, and his guards lying lifeless
around him. In the paroxysm of his passion he fell furiously on the poor
carcases, and kicked them till evening without intermission. His
courtiers and viziers exerted their efforts to soothe his extravagance,
but finding every expedient ineffectual, they all united in one
vociferation:
“The Caliph is gone mad! the Caliph is out of his senses!”
This outcry, which was soon resounded through the streets of Samarah, at
length reached the ears of Carathis, his mother: she flew in the utmost
consternation to try her ascendency on the mind of her son. Her tears
and caresses called off his attention; and he was prevailed upon by her
entreaties to be brought back to the palace.
Carathis, apprehensive of leaving Vathek to himself, caused him to be put
to bed; and seating herself by him, endeavoured by her conversation to
heal and compose him. Nor could any one have attempted it with better
success; for the Caliph not only loved her as a mother but respected her
as a person of superior genius. It was she who had induced him, being a
Greek herself, to adopt all the sciences and systems of her country,
which good Mussulmans hold in such thorough abhorrence.
Judicial astrology was one of those systems in which Carathis was a
perfect adept. She began, therefore, with reminding her son of the
promise which the stars had made him; and intimated an intention of
consulting them again.
“Alas!” sighed the Caliph, as soon at he could speak, “what a fool have I
been! not for the kicks bestowed on my guards, who so tamely submitted to
death, but for never considering that this extraordinary man was the same
the planets had foretold; whom, instead of ill-treating, I should have
conciliated by all the arts of persuasion.”
“The past,” said Carathis, “cannot be recalled; but it behoves us to
think of the future: perhaps you may again see the object you so much
regret: it is possible the inscriptions on the sabres will afford
information. Eat, therefore, and take thy repose, my dear son. We will
consider, to-morrow, in what manner to act.”
Vathek yielded to her counsel as well as he could, and arose in the
morning with a mind more at ease. The sabres he commanded to be
instantly brought; and poring upon them through a green glass, that their
glittering might not dazzle, he set himself in earnest to decipher the
inscriptions; but his reiterated attempts were all of them nugatory: in
vain did he beat his head and bite his nails; not a letter of the whole
was he able to ascertain. So unlucky a disappointment would have undone
him again, had not Carathis, by good fortune, entered the apartment.
“Have patience, son!” said she. “You certainly are possessed of every
important science, but the knowledge of languages is a trifle, at best;
and the accomplishment of none but a pedant. Issue forth a proclamation
that you will confer such rewards as become your greatness upon any one
that shall interpret what you do not understand, and what it is beneath
you to learn. You will soon find your curiosity gratified.”
“That may be,” said the Caliph; “but in the mean time I shall be horribly
disgusted by a crowd of smatterers, who will come to the trial as much
for the pleasure of retailing their jargon as from the hope of gaining
the reward. To avoid this evil, it will be proper to add that I will put
every candidate to death who shall fail to give satisfaction; for, thank
heaven, I have skill enough to distinguish between one that translates
and one that invents.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” replied Carathis, “but to put the ignorant to
death is somewhat severe, and may be productive of dangerous effects.
Content yourself with commanding their beards to be burnt: beards, in a
state, are not quite so essential as men.”
The Caliph submitted to the reasons of his mother, and sending for
Morakanabad, his prime vizier, said:
“Let the common criers proclaim, not only in Samarah, but throughout
every city in my empire, that whosoever will repair hither, and decipher
certain characters which appear to be inexplicable, shall experience the
liberality for which I am renowned; but that all who fail upon trial
shall have their beards burnt off to the last hair. Let them add also,
that I will bestow fifty beautiful slaves, and as many jars of apricots
from the isle of Kirmith, upon any man that shall bring me intelligence
of the stranger.”
The subjects of the Caliph, like their sovereign, being great admirers of
women, and apricots from Kirmith, felt their mouths water at these
promises, but were totally unable to gratify their hankering, for no one
knew which way the stranger had gone.
As to the Caliph’s other requisition the result was different: the
learned, the half-learned, and those who were neither, but fancied
themselves equal to both, came boldly to hazard their beards, and all
shamefully lost them.
The exaction of these forfeitures, which found sufficient employment for
the Eunuchs, gave them such a smell of singed hair as greatly to disgust
the ladies of the seraglio, and make it necessary that this new
occupation of their guardians should be transferred into other hands.
At length, however, an old man presented himself, whose beard was a
cubit-and-a-half longer than any that had appeared before him. The
officers of the palace whispered to each other, as they ushered him in:
“What a pity such a beard should be burnt!”
Even the Caliph, when he saw it, concurred with them in opinion; but his
concern was entirely needless. This venerable personage read the
characters with facility, and explained them verbatim, as follows:
“We were made where everything good is made; we are the least of the
wonders of a place where all is wonderful; and deserving the sight of the
first potentate on earth.”
“You translate admirably!” cried Vathek. “I know to what these
marvellous characters allude. Let him receive as many robes of honour,
and thousands of sequins of gold, as he hath spoken words. I am in some
measure relieved from the perplexity that embarrassed me!”
Vathek invited the old man to dine, and even to remain some days in the
palace. Unluckily for him, he accepted the offer; for the Caliph having
ordered him next morning to be called, said:
“Read again to me what you have read already; I cannot hear too often the
promise that is made me, the completion of which I languish to obtain.”
The old man forthwith put on his green spectacles; but they instantly
dropped from his nose, on perceiving that the characters he had read the
day preceding, had given place to others of different import.
“What ails you?” asked the Caliph; “and why these symptoms of wonder?”
“Sovereign of the world,” replied the old man, “these sabres hold another
language to-day, from that they yesterday held.”
“How say you?” returned Vathek. “But it matters not! tell me, if you
can, what they mean.”
“It is this, my lord,” rejoined the old man: “‘Woe to the rash mortal who
seeks to know that of which he should remain ignorant and to undertake
that which surpasseth his power!’”
“And woe to thee!” cried the Caliph, in a burst of indignation: “to-day
thou art void of understanding: begone from my presence, they shall burn
but the half of thy beard, because thou wert yesterday fortunate in
guessing. My gifts I never resume.”
The old man, wise enough to perceive he had luckily escaped, considering
the folly of disclosing so disgusting a truth, immediately withdrew, and
appeared not again.
But it was not long before Vathek discovered abundant reason to regret
his precipitation; for though he could not decipher the characters
himself, yet, by constantly poring upon them, he plainly perceived that
they every day changed; and unfortunately no other candidate offered to
explain them. This perplexing occupation inflamed his blood, dazzled his
sight, and brought on a giddiness and debility that he could not support.
He failed not, however, though in so reduced a condition, to be often
carried to his tower, as he flattered himself that he might there read in
the stars, which he went to consult, something more congruous to his
wishes. But in this his hopes were deluded; for his eyes, dimmed by the
vapours of his head, began to subserve his curiosity so ill, that he
beheld nothing but a thick dun cloud, which he took for the most direful
of omens.
Agitated with so much anxiety, Vathek entirely lost all firmness; a fever
seized him and his appetite failed. Instead of being one of the greatest
eaters, he became as distinguished for drinking. So insatiable was the
thirst which tormented him, that his mouth, like a funnel, was always
open to receive the various liquors that might be poured into it and
especially cold water, which calmed him more than every other.
This unhappy prince being thus incapacitated for the enjoyment of any
pleasure, commanded the palaces of the five senses to be shut up;
forebore to appear in public, either to display his magnificence or
administer justice; and retired to the inmost apartment of his harem. As
he had ever been an indulgent husband, his wives, overwhelmed with grief
at his deplorable situation, incessantly offered their prayers for his
health, and unremittingly supplied him with water.
In the mean time, the Princess Carathis, whose affliction no words can
describe, instead of restraining herself to sobbing and tears, was
closeted daily with the Vizier Morakanabad, to find out some cure or
mitigation of the Caliph’s disease. Under the persuasion that it was
caused by enchantment, they turned over together leaf by leaf, all the
books of magic that might point out a remedy; and caused the horrible
stranger, whom they accused as the enchanter, to be everywhere sought for
with the strictest diligence.
At the distance of a few miles from Samarah stood a high mountain, whose
sides were swarded with wild thyme and basil, and its summit overspread
with so delightful a plain that it might be taken for the Paradise
destined for the faithful. Upon it grew a hundred thickets of eglantine
and other fragrant shrubs; a hundred arbours of roses, jessamine, and
honeysuckle; as many clumps of orange trees, cedar, and citron; whose
branches, interwoven with the palm, the pomegranate, and the vine,
presented every luxury that could regale the eye or the taste. The
ground was strewed with violets, harebells, and pansies; in the midst of
which sprung forth tufts of jonquils, hyacinths, and carnations, with
every other perfume that impregnates the air. Four fountains, not less
clear than deep, and so abundant as to slake the thirst of ten armies,
seemed purposely placed here to make the scene more resemble the garden
of Eden, which was watered by the four sacred rivers. Here the
nightingale sang the birth of the rose, her well-beloved, and at the same
time lamented its short-lived beauty; whilst the turtle deplored the loss
of more substantial pleasures and the wakeful lark hailed the rising
light that reanimates the whole creation. Here, more than anywhere, the
mingled melodies of birds expressed the various passions they inspired;
as if the exquisite fruits, which they pecked at pleasure, had given them
a double energy.
To this mountain Vathek was sometimes brought, for the sake of breathing
a purer air; and especially, to drink at will of the four fountains,
which were reputed in the highest degree salubrious, and sacred to
himself. His attendants were his mother, his wives, and some eunuchs,
who assiduously employed themselves in filling capacious bowls of rock
crystal, and emulously presenting them to him. But it frequently
happened that his avidity exceeded their zeal; insomuch that he would
prostrate himself upon the ground to lap up the water, of which he could
never have enough.
One day when this unhappy prince had been long lying in so debasing a
posture, a voice, hoarse but strong, thus addressed him:
“Why assumest thou the function of a dog, oh Caliph, so proud of thy
dignity and power?”
At this apostrophe he raised up his head and beheld the stranger that had
caused him so much affliction. Inflamed with anger at the sight, he
exclaimed:
“Accursed Giaour! {23} what comest thou hither to do? is it not enough to
have transformed a prince, remarkable for his agility, into one of those
leather barrels which the Bedouin Arabs carry on their camels when they
traverse the deserts? Perceivest thou not that I may perish by drinking
to excess, no less than by a total abstinence?”
“Drink then this draught,” said the stranger, as he presented to him a
phial of a red and yellow mixture; “and to satiate the thirst of thy soul
as well as of thy body, know that I am an Indian, but from a region of
India which is wholly unknown.”
The Caliph, delighted to see his desires accomplished in part, and
flattering himself with the hope of obtaining their entire fulfilment,
without a moment’s hesitation swallowed the potion, and instantaneously
found his health restored, his thirst appeased, and his limbs as agile as
ever.
In the transports of his joy, Vathek leaped upon the neck of the
frightful Indian, and kissed his horrid mouth and hollow cheeks, as
though they had been the coral lips, and the lilies and roses of his most
beautiful wives; whilst they, less terrified than jealous at the sight,
dropped their veils to hide the blush of mortification that suffused
their foreheads.
Nor would the scene have closed here, had not Carathis, with all the art
of insinuation, a little repressed the raptures of her son. Having
prevailed upon him to return to Samarah, she caused a herald to precede
him, whom she commanded to proclaim as loudly as possible:
“The wonderful stranger hath appeared again; he hath healed the Caliph;
he hath spoken! he hath spoken!”
Forthwith all the inhabitants of this vast city quitted their
habitations, and ran together in crowds to see the procession of Vathek
and the Indian, whom they now blessed as much as they had before
execrated, incessantly shouting,
“He hath healed our sovereign; he hath spoken! he hath spoken!”
Nor were these words forgotten in the public festivals, which were
celebrated the same evening to testify the general joy, for the poets
applied them as a chorus to all the songs they composed.
The Caliph, in the mean while caused the palaces of the senses to be
again set open, and as he found himself prompted to visit that of taste,
in preference to the rest, immediately ordered a splendid entertainment,
to which his great officers and favourite courtiers were all invited.
The Indian, who was placed near the prince, seemed to think that as a
proper acknowledgment of so distinguished a privilege, he could neither
eat, drink, nor talk too much. The various dainties were no sooner
served up than they vanished, to the great mortification of Vathek, who
piqued himself on being the greatest eater alive, and at this time in
particular had an excellent appetite.
The rest of the company looked round at each other in amazement, but the
Indian without appearing to observe it, quaffed large bumpers to the
health of each of them: sung in a style altogether extravagant; related
stories at which he laughed immoderately; and poured forth extemporaneous
verses which would not have been thought bad, but for the strange
grimaces with which they were uttered. In a word, his loquacity was
equal to that of a hundred astrologers; he ate as much as a hundred
porters, and caroused in proportion.
The Caliph, notwithstanding the table had been thirty times covered,
found himself incommoded by the voraciousness of his guest, who was now
considerably declined in the prince’s esteem. Vathek, however, being
unwilling to betray the chagrin he could hardly disguise, said in a
whisper to Bababalouk, {26a} the chief of his eunuchs:
“You see how enormous his performances in every way are; what would be
the consequence should he get at my wives? Go! redouble your vigilance,
and be sure look well to my Circassians, who would be more to his taste
than all of the rest.”
The bird of the morning had thrice renewed his song, when the hour of the
divan {26b} sounded. Vathek, in gratitude to his subjects, having
promised to attend, immediately arose from table and repaired thither
leaning upon his vizier, who could scarcely support him, so disordered
was the poor prince by the wine he had drank, and still more by the
extravagant vagaries of his boisterous guest.
The viziers, the officers of the crown, and of the law, arranged
themselves in a semi-circle about their sovereign, and preserved a
respectful silence, whilst the Indian, who looked as cool as if come from
a fast, sat down without ceremony on a step of the throne, laughing in
his sleeve at the indignation with which his temerity had filled the
spectators.
The Caliph, however, whose ideas were confused and his head embarrassed,
went on administering justice at hap-hazard, till at length the prime
vizier {27} perceiving his situation, hit upon a sudden expedient to
interrupt the audience, and rescue the honour of his master, to whom he
said in a whisper:
“My lord, the princess Carathis, who hath passed the night in consulting
the planets, informs you that they portend you evil; and the danger is
urgent. Beware, lest this stranger whom you have so lavishly recompensed
for his magical gewgaws, should make some attempt on your life: his
liquor, which at first had the appearance of effecting your cure, may be
no more than a poison of a sudden operation. Slight not this surmise;
ask him, at least, of what it was compounded; whence he procured it; and
mention the sabres, which you seem to have forgotten.”
Vathek, to whom the insolent airs of the stranger became every moment
less supportable, intimated to his vizier by a wink of acquiescence, that
he would adopt his advice, and at once turning towards the Indian, said:
“Get up and declare in full divan of what drugs the liquor was compounded
you enjoined me to take, for it is suspected to be poison; add also the
explanation I have so earnestly desired concerning the sabres you sold
me, and thus show your gratitude for the favours heaped on you.”
Having pronounced these words in as moderate a tone as a Caliph well
could, he waited in silent expectation for an answer; but the Indian,
still keeping his seat, began to renew his loud shouts of laughter, and
exhibit the same horrid grimaces he had shown them before, without
vouchsafing a word in reply. Vathek, no longer able to brook such
insolence, immediately kicked him from the steps, instantly descending
repeated his blow, and persisted with such assiduity, as incited all who
were present to follow his example. Every foot was aimed at the Indian,
and no sooner had any one given him a kick than he felt himself
constrained to reiterate the stroke.
The stranger afforded them no small entertainment; for being both short
and plump, he collected himself into a ball and rolled round on all sides
at the blows of his assailants, who pressed after him wherever he turned,
with an eagerness beyond conception, whilst their numbers were every
moment increasing. The ball, indeed, in passing from one apartment to
another, drew every person after it that came in its way, insomuch that
the whole palace was thrown into confusion, and resounded with a
tremendous clamour. The women of the harem, amazed at the uproar, flew
to their blinds to discover the cause, but no sooner did they catch a
glimpse of the ball than feeling themselves unable to refrain, they broke
from the clutches of their eunuchs, who to stop their flight pinched them
till they bled, but in vain; whilst themselves, though trembling with
terror at the escape of their charge, were as incapable of resisting the
attraction.
The Indian, after having traversed the halls, galleries, chambers,
kitchens, gardens, and stables of the palace, at last took his course
through the courts, whilst the Caliph, pursuing him closer than the rest,
bestowed as many kicks as he possibly could, yet not without receiving
now and then one, which his competitors, in their eagerness, designed for
the ball.
Carathis, Morakanabad, and two or three old viziers whose wisdom had
hitherto withstood the attraction, wishing to prevent Vathek from
exposing himself in the presence of his subjects, fell down in his way to
impede the pursuit, but he, regardless of their obstruction, leaped over
their heads, and went on as before. They then ordered the muezzins to
call the people to prayers, both for the sake of getting them out of the
way, and of endeavouring by their petitions to avert the calamity; but
neither of these expedients was a whit more successful. The sight of
this fatal ball was alone sufficient to draw after it every beholder.
The muezzins themselves, though they saw it but at a distance, hastened
down from their minarets and mixed with the crowd, which continued to
increase in so surprising a manner, that scarce an inhabitant was left in
Samarah, except the aged, the sick confined to their beds, and infants at
the breast, whose nurses could run more nimbly without them. Even
Carathis, Morakanabad, and the rest, were all become of the party.
The shrill screams of the females who had broken from their apartments,
and were unable to extricate themselves from the pressure of the crowd,
together with those of the eunuchs jostling after them, terrified lest
their charge should escape from their sight, increased by the execrations
of husbands urging forward and menacing both, kicks given and received,
stumblings and overthrows at every step, in a word, the confusion that
universally prevailed, rendered Samarah like a city taken by storm, and
devoted to absolute plunder.
At last the cursed Indian, who still preserved his rotundity of figure,
after passing through all the streets and public places, and leaving them
empty, rolled onwards to the plain of Catoul, and traversed the valley at
the foot of the mountain of the four fountains.