right use of his senses," replied Abou Hassan, still sighing and
weeping; "you see how it is, and that I have not imposed upon his
majesty. And I wish to Heaven," continued he, to dissemble the
better, "that I had no occasion to have told him the melancholy
and afflicting news. Alas! I cannot enough express my irreparable
loss!" "That is true," replied Mesrour, "and I can assure you I
take a great share in your affliction; but you must be comforted,
and not abandon yourself to your grief. I leave you with
reluctance, to return to the caliph; but I beg the favour of you
not to bury the corpse till I come again; for I will assist at
the interment, and accompany it with my prayers." Mesrour went to
give an account of his visit. Abou Hassan attended him to the
door, told him he did not deserve the honour he intended him: and
for fear Mesrour should return to say something else, followed
him with his eyes for some time, and when he saw him at a
distance, returned to his wife and released her. "This is
already," said he, "a new scene of mirth, but I fancy it will not
be the last; for certainly the princess Zobeide will not believe
Mesrour, but will laugh at him, since she has too substantial a
reason to the contrary; therefore we must expect some new event."
While Abou Hassan was talking thus, Nouzhatoul-aouadat had time
to put on her clothes again, and both went and sat down on a sofa
opposite to the window, where they could see all that passed.
In the mean time, Mesrour reached Zobeide's apartment, and going
into her closet laughing, clapped his hands like one who had
something very agreeable to tell.
The caliph, naturally impatient, and piqued a little at the
princess's contradiction, as soon as he saw Mesrour, "Vile
slave," said he, "is this a time to laugh? Why do not you tell me
which is dead, the husband or the wife?"
"Commander of the faithful," answered Mesrour, putting on a
serious countenance, "it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat who is dead, for
the loss of whom About Hassan is as much afflicted as when he
appeared before your majesty." The caliph not giving him time to
pursue his story, interrupted him, and cried out, laughing
heartily, "Good news! Zobeide, your mistress, was a moment ago
possessed of the palace of paintings, and now it is mine. She
staked it against my garden of pleasures, since you went;
therefore you could not have done me greater pleasure. I will
take care to reward you: but give me a true account of what you
saw."
"Commander of the faithful," said Mesrour, "when I came to Abou
Hassan's apartment, I found the door open, and he was bewailing
the death of his wife. He sat at the head of the deceased, who
was laid out in the middle of the room, with her feet towards
Mecca, and was covered with the piece of brocade which your
majesty presented to Abou Hassan. After I had expressed the share
I took in his grief, I went and lifted up the pall at the head,
and knew Nouzhatoul-aouadat, though hr face was much swelled and
changed. I exhorted Abou Hassan in the best manner I could to be
comforted; and when I came away, told him I would attend at his
wife's funeral, and desired him not to remove the corpse till I
came. This is all I can tell your majesty." "I ask no more," said
the caliph, laughing heartily, "and I am well satisfied with your
exactness." Then addressing himself to Zobeide, "Well, madam,"
said he, "have you yet any thing to say against so certain a
truth? Will you still believe that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is alive,
and that Abou Hassan is dead? And will you not own that you have
lost your wager?"
"How, sir," replied Zobeide, who would not believe one word
Mesrour said, "do you think that I regard that impertinent fellow
of a slave, who knows not what he says? I am not blind or mad.
With these eyes I saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat in the greatest
affliction; I spoke to her myself, and she told me that her
husband was dead." "Madam," replied Mesrour, "I swear to you by
your own life, and that of the commander of the faithful, which
are both dear to me, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is dead, and Abou
Hassan is living."
"Thou liest, base despicable slave," said Zobeide in a rage, "and
I will confound thee immediately." Clapping her hands together,
she called her women, who all approached. "Come hither," said the
princess to them, "and speak the truth. Who was that who came and
spoke with me a little before the caliph entered?" The women all
answered that it was poor afflicted Nouzhatoul-aouadat. "And
what," added she, addressing herself to her treasurer, "did I
order you to give her?" "Madam," answered the treasurer, "I gave
Nouzhatoul-aouadat, by your orders, a purse of a hundred pieces
of gold and a piece of brocade, which she carried away with her."
"Well, then, sorry slave," said Zobeide to Mesrour, in passion,
"what have you to say to all this? Whom do you think now I ought
to believe, you or my treasurer, my women, and myself?"
Mesrour did not want for arguments to contradict the princess;
but, as he was afraid of provoking her too much, chose rather to
be silent, though he was satisfied that the wife was dead, and
not the husband.
During the whole of this dispute between Zobeide and Mesrour, the
caliph, who heard the evidence on both sides, and was persuaded
of the contrary of what the princess asserted, because he had
himself seen and spoken to Abou Hassan, and from what Mesrour had
told him, laughed heartily to see Zobeide so exasperated.
"Madam," said he to her, "once more I repeat that I know not who
was the author of that saying, that Women sometimes lose their
wits,' but I am sure you make it good. Mesrour has just come from
Abou Hassan's, and tells you that he saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat lying
dead in the middle of the room, Abou Hassan alive, and sitting by
her; and yet you will not believe this evidence, which nobody can
reasonably refuse; I cannot comprehend this conduit."
Zobeide would not hear the caliph. "Pardon me, commander of the
faithful," replied she, "if I suspect you: I see that you have
contrived with Mesrour to vex me, and to try my patience. And as
I perceive that this report was concerted between you, I beg
leave to send a person to Abou Hassan's, to know whether or not I
am in the wrong."
The caliph consented, and the princess charged with this
important commission an old nurse, who had lived with her from
her infancy. "Hark you nurse," said she, "you see my dispute with
the commander of the faithful, and Mesrour; I need tell you no
more. Go to Abou Hassan's or rather to Nouzhatoul-aouadat's, for
Abou Hassan is dead, and clear up this matter for me. If you
bring me good news, a handsome present is your reward: make
haste, and return immediately."
The nurse set out, to the great joy of the caliph, who was
delighted to see Zobeide in this embarrassment; but Mesrour,
extremely mortified to find the princess so angry with him, did
all he could to appease her, and to make her and the caliph both
satisfied with him. He was overjoyed when Zobeide sent the nurse;
because he was persuaded that the report she must make would
agree with his, justify him, and restore him to her favour.
In the mean time Abou Hassan, who watched at the window,
perceived the nurse at a distance, and guessing that she was sent
by Zobeide, called his wife, and told her that the princess's
nurse was coming to know the truth. "Therefore," said he, "make
haste and lay me out." Accordingly Nouzhatoul-aouadat covered him
with the brocade Zobeide had given her, and put his turban upon
his face. The nurse, eager to acquit herself of her commission,
hobbled as fast as age would allow her, and entering the room,
perceived Nouzhatoul-aouadat in tears, her hair dishevelled, and
seated at the head of her husband, beating her breast, with all
the expressions of violent grief.
The good old nurse went directly to the false widow. "My dear
Nouzhatoul-aouadat," said she, with a sorrowful countenance, "I
come not to interrupt your grief and tears for a husband whom you
loved so tenderly." "Ah! good mother," replied the counterfeit
widow, "you see my misfortune, and how unhappy I am from the loss
of my beloved Abou Hassan. Abou Hassan, my dear husband!" cried
she, "what have I done that you should leave me so soon? Have I
not always preferred your will to my own? Alas! what will become
of poor Nouzhatoul-aouadat?"
"This black-faced Mesrour," cried the nurse, lifting up her
hands, "deserves to be punished for having caused so great a
difference between my good mistress and the commander of the
faithful, by the falsehood he has told them. Daughter," continued
she, "that villain Mesrour has asserted, with inconceivable
impudence, before our good mistress, that you were dead, and Abou
Hassan was alive."
"Alas! my good mother," cried Nouzhatoul-aouadat, "I wish to
Heaven that it was true! I should not be in this sorrowful state,
nor bewail a husband so dear to me!" At these words she wept
afresh, and with redoubled tears and cries feigned the deepest
sorrow.
The nurse was so much moved by her tears, that she sat down by
her, and cried too. Then gently lifting up the turban and cloth,
looked at the face of the corpse. "Ah! poor Abou Hassan," she
cried, covering his face again, "God have mercy upon thee. Adieu,
child," said she to Nouzhatoul-aouadat: "if I could stay longer
with you, I would with all my heart; but I am obliged to return
immediately, to deliver my mistress from the uneasiness that
black villain has occasioned her, by his impudent lie, assuring
her with an oath that you were dead."
As soon as the nurse was gone, Nouzhatoul-aouadat wiped her eyes
and released Abou Hassan; they both went and sat down on a sofa
against the window, expecting what would be the end of this
stratagem, and to be ready to act according as circumstances
might require.
The nurse, in the mean time, made all the haste she could to
Zobeide. The pleasure of carrying the princess news favourable to
her wager, but still more the hopes of a good reward, added wings
to her feet, and running into the princess's closet quite out of
breath, she gave her a true account of all she had seen. Zobeide
hearkened to the old woman's relation with a most sensible
pleasure; and when she had done, said, with a tone which shewed
triumph at having, as she supposed, won her wager: "Repeat it
once more before the caliph, who looks upon us all to be fools,
would make us believe we have no sense of religion, nor fear of
God; and tell your story to that wicked black slave, who had the
insolence to assert a wilful falsehood."
Mesrour, who expected the nurse's report would prove favourable
on his side, was much mortified to find it so much the contrary,
and so vexed at the anger Zobeide expressed against him, for a
thing which he thought himself surer of than any body, that he
was glad of an opportunity of speaking his mind freely to the old
women, which he durst not do to the princess. "Old toothless,"
said he to the nurse, "you are a liar, and there is no truth in
what you say; for I saw with my own eyes Nouzhatoul-aouadat laid
out in the middle of the room."
"You are a notorious liar yourself," replied the nurse, with an
insulting air, "to dare maintain so great a falsity before my
face, who am just come from seeing Abou Hassan dead, laid out,
and have left his wife alive." "I am not an impostor," replied
Mesrour; "it is you who endeavour to lead us all into error."
"What impudence," said the nurse, "to dare tell me I lie in the
presence of their majesties, when I saw just now with my own eyes
what I have had the honour to tell them." "Indeed, nurse,"
answered Mesrour again, "you had better hold your tongue, for you
certainly doat."
Zobeide, who could no longer endure this want of respect in
Mesrour, who, without any regard to her, treated her nurse so
injuriously in her presence, without giving the old lady time to
reply to so gross an affront, said to the caliph, "Commander of
the faithful, I demand justice for this insolence to us both."
She was so enraged she could say no more, but burst into tears.
The caliph, who had heard all the dispute, thought it very
intricate. He mused some time, and could not tell what to think
of so many contradictions. The princess on her part, as well as
Mesrour, the nurse, and all the women slaves, who were present,
were as much puzzled, and remained silent. At last the caliph,
addressing himself to Zobeide, said, "I see we are all liars;
myself first, then you, Mesrour, and you, nurse; or at least it
seems not one can be believed more than the other; therefore let
us go ourselves to examine the truth, for I can see no other way
to clear up these doubts."
So saying, the caliph arose, the princess followed him, and
Mesrour went before to open the doors. "Commander of the
faithful," said he, "I am overjoyed that your majesty has taken
this course; and shall be much more, when I shall make it plainly
appear to the nurse, not that she doats, since the expression is
unfortunately displeasing to my good mistress, but that her
report is not true."
The nurse wanted not a reply; "Hold your tongue, black face,"
said she; "you doat yourself."
Zobeide, who was much provoked at Mesrour, could not bear to hear
him attack her nurse again without taking her part: "Vile slave,"
said she, "say what you will, I maintain my nurse speaks the
truth, and look upon you as a mere liar." "Madam," replied
Mesrour, "if nurse is so very certain that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is
alive, and Abou Hassan dead, I will lay her what she dares of
it." The nurse was as ready as he; "I dare," said she, "take you
at your word: let us see if you dare unsay it." Mesrour stood to
his word; and they laid a piece of gold brocade with silver
flowers before the caliph and the princess.
The apartment from which the caliph and Zobeide set out, though
distant from Abou Hassan's, was nevertheless just opposite, so
that he perceived them coming, and told his wife that he was much
mistaken if the caliph and Zobeide, preceded by Mesrour, and
followed by a great number of women, were not about to do them
the honour of a visit. She looked through a lattice and saw them,
seemed frightened, and cried out, "What shall we do? we are
ruined." "Fear nothing," replied Abou Hassan. "Have you forgotten
already what we agreed on? We will both feign ourselves dead, and
you shall see all will go well. At the slow rate they are coming,
we shall be ready before they reach the door." Accordingly, Abou
Hassan and his wife wrapped up and covered themselves with the
pieces of brocade, and waited patiently for their visitors.
Mesrour, who came first, opened the door, and the caliph and
Zobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were
struck with horror, and stood motionless, at the spectacle which
presented itself to their view, not knowing what to think. At
length Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, "Alas! they
are both dead! You have done much," continued she, looking at the
caliph and Mesrour, "to endeavour to make me believe that my dear
slave was dead, and I find it is true: grief at the loss of her
husband has certainly killed her." "Say rather, madam," answered
the caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aoudat
died first, "the afflicted Abou Hassan sunk under his grief, and
could not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to confess
that you have lost your wager, and that your palace of paintings
is mine."
"Hold there," answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by
the caliph; "I will maintain you have lost your garden of
pleasures. Abou Hassan died first; since my nurse told you, as
well as me, that she saw her alive, and weeping for the death of
her husband."
The dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between
Mesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they; each
affirmed to have won, and at length they proceeded to abuse each
other very grossly.
At last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think
that Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she
had won. In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the
truth, he advanced towards the corpses, and sat down at the head,
searching for some expedient that might gain him the victory over
Zobeide. "I swear," cried he presently after, "by the holy name
of God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him who can
tell me which of these two died first."
No sooner were these words out of the caliph's mouth, than he
heard a voice under Abou Hassan's piece of brocade say,
"Commander of the faithful, I died first, give me the thousand
pieces of gold." At the same instant Abou Hassan threw off the
piece of brocade, and springing up, prostrated himself at his
feet, while his wife did the same to Zobeide, keeping on her
piece of brocade out of decency. The princess at first shrieked
out, but recovering herself, expressed great joy to see her dear
slave rise again, just when she was almost inconsolable at having
seen her dead. "Ah! wicked Nouzhatoul-aouadat," cried she, "what
have I suffered for your sake? However, I forgive you from my
heart, since you are not dead."
The caliph was not so much surprised, when he heard Abou Hassan's
voice: but thought he should have died with laughing at this
unravelling of the mystery, and to hear Abou Hassan ask so
seriously for the thousand pieces of gold. "What, Abou Hassan,"
said he, continuing to laugh aloud, "hast thou conspired against
my life, to kill me a second time with laughing? How came this
thought into your head, to surprise Zobeide and me thus, when we
least thought of such a trick?"
"Commander of the faithful," replied Abou Hassan, "I will declare
to your majesty the whole truth, without the least reserve. Your
majesty knows that I always loved to eat and drink well' and the
wife you gave me rather increased than restrained this
propensity. With these dispositions your majesty may easily
suppose we might spend a good estate; and to make short of my
story, we were not sparing of what your majesty so generously
gave us. This morning, accounting with our caterer, who took care
to provide every thing for us, and paying what we owed him, we
found we had nothing left. Then, reflections on what was past,
and resolutions to manage better for the future, crowded into our
thoughts; we formed a thousand projects, all of which we
rejected. At last, the shame of seeing ourselves reduced to so
low a condition, and not daring to tell your majesty, made us
contrive this stratagem to relieve our necessities, and to divert
you, which we hope your majesty will be pleased to pardon."
The caliph was satisfied with Abou Hassan's sincerity, and
Zobeide, who had till now been very serious, began to laugh at
the thought of Abou Hassan's scheme. The caliph, who had not
ceased laughing at the singularity of the adventure, rising, said
to Abou Hassan and his wife, "Follow me; I will give you the
thousand pieces of gold I promised, for joy to find you are not
dead." Zobeide desired him to let her make her slave a present of
the same sum, for the same reason. By this means Abou Hassan and
his wife Nouzhatoul-aouadat preserved the favour of the caliph
Haroon al Rusheed and the princess Zobeide, and by their
liberalities were enabled to pursue their pleasures.
THE STORY OF ALLA AD DEEN; OR, THE
WONDERFUL LAMP.
In the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the
kingdom of China, the name of which I do not recollect, there
lived a tailor, named Mustapha, who was so poor, that he could
hardly, by his daily labour, maintain himself and his family,
which consisted of a wife and son.
His son, who was called Alla ad Deen, had been brought up in a
very careless and idle manner, and by that means had contracted
many vicious habits. He was wicked, obstinate, and disobedient to
his father and mother, who, when he grew up, could not keep him
within doors. He was in the habit of going out early in the
morning, and would stay out all day, playing in the streets and
public places with idle children of his own age.
When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father not being
able to put him out to any other, took him into his own shop, and
taught him how to use his needle: but neither fair words nor the
fear of chastisement were capable of fixing his lively genius.
All his father's endeavours to keep him to his work were in vain;
for no sooner was his back turned, than he was gone for that day.
Mustapha chastised him, but Alla ad Deen was incorrigible, and
his father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his
idleness: and was so much troubled at not being able to reclaim
him, that it threw him into a fit of sickness, of which he died
in a few months.
The mother, finding that her son would not follow his father's
business, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of trade, and
with the money she received for them, and what she could get by
spinning cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son. Alla ad
Deen, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father,
and who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid
him, he would abuse her, gave himself entirely over to his idle
habits, and was never out of the streets from his companions.
This course he followed till he was fifteen years old, without
giving his mind to any useful pursuit, or the least reflection on
what would become of him. In this situation, as he was one day
playing according to custom in the street, with his vagabond
associates, a stranger passing by stood to observe him.
This stranger was a sorcerer, called by the writer of this story,
the African magician; he was a native of Africa, and had been but
two days arrived from thence.
The African magician, who was a good physiognomist, observing in
Alla ad Deen's countenance something absolutely necessary for the
execution of the design he was engaged in, inquired artfully
about his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and
when he had learned all he desired to know, went up to him, and
taking him aside from his comrades, said, "Child, was not your
father called Mustapha the tailor?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy;
"but he has been dead a long time."
At these words, the African magician threw his arms about Alla ad
Deen's neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes.
Alla ad Deen, who observed his tears, asked him what made him
weep. "Alas! my son," cried the African magician with a sigh,
"how can I forbear?
"I am your uncle; your worthy father was my own brother. I have
been many years abroad, and now I am come home with the hopes of
seeing him, you tell me he is dead. I assure you it is a sensible
grief to me to be deprived of the comfort I expected. But it is
some relief to my affliction, that as far as I can remember him,
I knew you at first sight, you are so like him; and I see I am
not deceived." Then he asked Alla ad Deen, putting his hand into
his purse, where his mother lived; and as soon as he had informed
him, gave him a handful of small money, saying, "Go, my son, to
your mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will visit
her to-morrow, if I have time, that I may have the satisfaction
of seeing where my good brother lived so long, and ended his
days."
As soon as the African magician left his newly-adopted nephew,
Alla ad Deen ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle
had given him. "Mother," said he, "have I an uncle?" "No, child,"
replied his mother, "you have no uncle by your father's side, or
mine." "I am just now come," said Alla ad Deen, "from a man who
says he is my uncle by my father's side, assuring me that he is
his brother. He cried and kissed me when I told him my father was
dead; and to shew you that what I tell you is truth," added he,
pulling out the money, "see what he has given me. He charged me
to give his love to you, and to tell you, if he has any time to-
morrow, he will come and pay you a visit, that he may see the
house my father lived and died in." "Indeed, child," replied the
mother, "your father had a brother, but he has been dead a long
time, and I never heard of another."
The mother and son talked no more then of the African magician;
but the next day Alla ad Deen's uncle found him playing in
another part of the town with other children, and embracing him
as before, put two pieces of gold into his hand, and said to him,
"Carry this, child, to your mother, tell her that I will come and
see her tonight, and bid her get us something for supper; but
first shew me the house where you live."
After Alla ad Deen had shewed the African magician the house, he
carried the two pieces of gold to his mother, and when he had
told her of his uncle's intention, she went out and bought
provisions; and considering she wanted various utensils, borrowed
them of her neighbours. She spent the whole day in preparing the
supper; and at night when it was ready, said to her son, "Perhaps
your uncle knows not how to find our house; go and bring him if
you meet with him."