THE
ARABIAN NIGHTS.
IT is recorded in the chronicles of the Sassanians, [1] those
ancient monarchs of Persia who extended their empire over the
continent and islands of India, beyond the Ganges, and almost to
China, that there was an illustrious prince of that powerful house,
who was as much beloved by his subjects for his wisdom and prudence,
as he was feared by the surrounding states, from the report of his
bravery, and the reputation of his hardy and well-disciplined army.
He had two sons: the elder, called Schahriar, was endowed with all
the virtues of his father, nor was Schahzenan, the younger, less
deserving of praise.
This king, after a reign as glorious as it was long, sunk into the
tomb of his ancestors, and Schahriar ascended the throne. Although
his brother was excluded by the laws of the empire from all power,
and became nothing more than a subject, yet the exalted and
magnificent situation of Schahriar gave rise to no envious or
discontented thoughts: his whole endeavor was to please and make
Schahriar happy. This was by no means difficult. The sultan, who was
always fond of his brother, was delighted with his attention; and
wishing that he should partake of his own power and wealth, he
bestowed on him the kingdom of Great Tartary. Schahzenan went
immediately and took possession of his empire, and fixed his
residence at Samarcand, the chief city.
These two kings had been separated about ten years, when Schahriar,
ardently wishing to see his brother, determined to send an
ambassador to him, with an invitation to his court. For this purpose
he fixed on his first vizier, who went with a splendid and
appropriate retinue. When he approached Samarcand, Schahzenan, being
acquainted with his arrival, immediately went out to meet him, with
all his court most magnificently dressed for the occasion; so great
was the honor paid to the minister of the sultan. The king of
Tartary received him with signs of great joy; and instantly inquired
after the sultan, his brother. Having satisfied his curiosity, the
vizier unfolded the purpose of his embassy. Schahzenan, who was much
affected at the kindness and recollection of his brother, then
addressed the vizier in these words:
“Sage vizier, the sultan, my brother, does me too much honor; he
could not propose any thing more agreeable to me. It is impossible
that his wish to see me can exceed my anxious desire of again
beholding him; time has not weakened my regard any more than his. My
kingdom is tranquil, and I require only ten days to prepare for my
departure: for this short time you need not have the trouble of
entering the city: pitch your tents, and remain in this place: I
will take care and order every refreshment and accommodation for you
and your whole train,” This was immediately done; and the king had
scarcely returned to his palace, when the vizier saw an immense
quantity of all sorts of provisions arrive, accompanied with rare
and valuable presents.
In the mean time Schahzenan made every preparation for his journey.
He dispatched with celerity his most pressing business: he
established a regency to govern the kingdom during his absence, and
put a minister, on whose abilities and fidelity he had the firmest
reliance, at the head of it. At the end of ten days every thing was
ready; he took a tender leave of the queen, his consort, and
accompanied by such officers as he had appointed to attend him, left
Samarcand in the evening. He proceeded directly to a royal pavilion,
which had been erected near the vizier’s tent. Schahzenan remained
in conversation with the ambassador till about midnight; but wishing
once again to embrace his queen, whom he tenderly loved, he returned
privately to the palace, and went directly to her apartment, who not
expecting his return, had received into her chamber one of the
lowest officers of the household. They had been in bed some time,
and were both in the deepest sleep.
The king, thinking how agreeably the queen, of whose affection he
had no doubt, would be surprised at his unexpected return, entered
the chamber without making any noise. Conceive, then, his
astonishment at seeing, by the lights which are always hung in the
royal apartments, another man in her arms. He stood for an instant
motionless, almost doubting his own eyes. Being, however, too
certain of the truth. “Have I then,” said he to himself,
“scarcely left my palace, or gone from under the walls of
Samarcand, before they dare thus to disgrace me? Wretch! your crime
shall not go unrequited. As king, it is my duty to punish the crimes
that are committed within my states; as an offended husband, I ought
to sacrifice you to my just resentment.” The unfortunate monarch,
yielding to his first fury, drew his scimitar, and approaching the
bed, with one stroke changed their sleep into death: then taking
them up one after the other, he threw them from the window into the
foss that surrounded the palace.
Having thus satisfied his revenge, he went from the city as he
entered, and retired to his pavilion. On his arrival, without
relating what had passed to any one, he ordered the tents to be
struck, and began his journey. Every thing was soon ready, and it
was scarcely day-light when they commenced their march to the sound
of drums and other instruments. The whole train were filled with
joy, except the king, who could think of nothing but his queen’s
infidelity, and he became a prey to the deepest grief and melancholy
during the whole journey.
When he approached the capital of the Indies, he perceived the
sultan Schahriar and all his court coming out to greet him. What
joyful sensations arose in their breasts at this fraternal meeting!
They alighted and ran into each other’s arms: after a thousand
expressions of regard, they remounted, and entered the city amidst
the acclamations of the surrounding multitude. The sultan conducted
the king, his brother, to a palace, which had been prepared for him.
It communicated by a garden with his own; and was even more
magnificent, as it was the spot where all the fêtes and splendid
entertainments of the court were given; and it was now even
increased in splendour by new and brilliant ornaments.
Schahriar immediately left the king of Tartary, in order that he
might have time to bathe and change his dress; on his return from
the bath he went immediately to him again. They seated themselves on
a sofa, and as the courtiers, through respect, stood at a
considerable distance, these two brothers conversed with each other
at their ease, after so long an absence; and seemed even more united
by affection than blood. They ate together at supper, and after
their repast they again conversed, till Schahriar, perceiving the
night far advanced, left his brother to repose.
The unfortunate Schahzenan retired to his couch; but if the presence
of the sultan had for a while suspended his grief, it now returned
with redoubled force. Instead of enjoying that rest he was so much
in want of, the most agonizing reflection dwelt upon his mind. Every
circumstance of his queen’s infidelity presented itself to his
imagination with such violence, that it almost deprived him of his
reason. Not being able to sleep, he arose, and giving way to these
afflicting thoughts, they made such a deep impression of sorrow on
his countenance, that the sultan could not fail of remarking it.
“What cause of complaint,” thought he, “can the king of
Tartary have? He cannot object the reception I have given him. I
have received him as a brother whom I tenderly love; and I cannot
reproach myself with any thing. Perhaps he feels a regret at the
distance he is from his kingdom and his consort? If that indeed
afflicts him, I must hasten the presents I am preparing for him,
that he may set out, whenever he pleases, on his return to
Samarcand.” This he immediately set about; and sent a part of the
presents even the next day. These were composed of every thing rare,
singular, and valuable, that India could produce. In the mean time
the sultan endeavoured to amuse his brother by every species of
pleasure; but the most splendid entertainments and gayest fêtes
only served to increase his melancholy.
Schahriar having one morning given orders for a grand hunting party,
at the distance of two days journey from the city, in a part of the
country where there were plenty of stags, Schahzenan requested
permission to remain in his palace, excusing himself on account of a
slight indisposition. The sultan wishing to please him, gave him his
choice, and went with all his court to partake of the sport. The
king of Tartary was no sooner alone, than he shut himself up in his
apartment. He seated himself at a window that looked over the
garden; the view from thence, and the melody of the multitudes of
birds, which had chosen that beautiful spot for their retreat, must
have excited pleasant sensations in his breast, if he had been
capable of feeling them: but totally absorbed and overwhelmed with
the dreadful recollection of the queen’s infamous conduct, he more
frequently lifted his eyes to heaven, complaining of his wretched
fate, than fixed them on the beauties of the spot.
He remained thus occupied with his own melancholy thoughts, when his
attention was roused by the following event. A secret door of the
sultan’s palace suddenly opened, and out came twenty females; in
the midst of whom were the sultana, who was easily distinguished by
her superior manner. This princess, supposing the king of Tartary
was engaged in the chase, approached without fear, even to the very
windows of his apartments. The prince wishing, through curiosity, to
observe them, placed himself at the window so as to see every thing
that passed, without being at all seen. They who accompanied the
sultana immediately threw off the long robes which they had first
appeared in, and which entirely hid their faces. How great was his
astonishment, when he saw, in this party, which he supposed to
consist only of women, ten blacks, who each selected a mistress. Nor
did the sultana, on her part, remain long without her lover.
Clapping her hands, she called out, “Masoud, Masoud!” and
another black instantly descended from a tree, and ran towards her.
Decency forbids us to enter into a detail of their conduct, nor is
it at all necessary. Schahzenan saw enough to convince him that his
brother had not less reason to complain than himself. The amusements
of this amorous party lasted till midnight: they then bathed
altogether in a large piece of water, and having put on their
habits, they returned to the palace by the same secret door; and
Masoud, who had come over the wall of the garden, escaped in the
same way.
The whole of these transactions, which passed under his own eyes,
caused many reflections in the king’s mind. “How absurd,” said
he, “to think, that my misfortune is singular and uncommon! It is
the inevitable destiny of all husbands, since even the sultan, my
brother, the sovereign of so many states, the greatest monarch in
the world, cannot avoid it. What weakness then in me to be thus
affected at my own lot, and remain a prey to melancholy: it shall be
so no longer. The recollection of a misfortune so common to all men,
shall vex me no more, nor disturb my repose.” In short, from this
moment, he ceased to repine. He had delayed going to supper till the
whole of this extraordinary scene was over; he then ordered it to be
brought, and eat with a better appetite than he had before done
since his departure from Samarcand, and even enjoyed a fine concert
that was performed during the repast.
From this time he resumed his former good humour, and when he heard
of the sultan’s return, he went and paid his respects to him, with
an air of gaiety and satisfaction. Schahriar, at first, took no
notice of this change. He thought only of hinting at the refusal of
his brother to accompany him to the chase; and without allowing him
time to reply, he gave him an account of the great number of stags
and other animals they had hunted, and the pleasure it had afforded.
Schahzenan, having listened with great attention, took his turn to
speak. As melancholy or chagrin no longer clouded his mind, his
natural vivacity and wit became apparent in a thousand lively
sallies.
The sultan, who expected to find him in the same state in which he
left him, was delighted with his gaiety. “I thank heaven, my
brother,” he cried, “for the happy change which has taken place
during my absence. I am indeed truly rejoiced at it; but I have one
favor to request, that I trust you will not refuse me.”--“What
can I refuse you,” replied Schahzenan, “you may command me in
every thing. Speak; I am impatient to know what you wish of me.”
--“Since you have been at my court,” resumed the sultan, “I
have only seen you a prey to the most gloomy melancholy, which I
have tried, but in vain, to dissipate by every species of amusement
in my power. I thought that your grief might arise from the distance
you were from your kingdom; I imagined, also, that love might have
its share, and that the queen of Samarcand, whom you had selected
for her incomparable beauty, was partly the cause. I know not
whether my conjectures were right or wrong, and it was for this very
reason, and from the fear of displeasing you, that I did not
importune you. Soon after, without my having in the least
contributed to it, I find you, on my return from a hunting party, in
the highest spirits; your mind quite free from that dark cloud which
hung over it, and prevented all enjoyment. Tell me then, I intreat
you, why you were so melancholy, and why you are so no longer?”
At this speech the king of Tartary mused for some time, meditating
what to answer. At length he said, “you are my sultan and my
master, yet do not, I beg of you, compel me to give you the
satisfaction you demand.”--“Yes, yes, my brother,” cried the
sultan, “you must comply; I wish it, do not therefore refuse
me.”--Schahzenan could no longer resist his intreaties. “Well
then, my brother,” said he, “since you command it, you shall be
satisfied.” He then related the infidelity of the queen of
Samarcand; and when he had finished his recital, “This,”
continued he, “was the cause of my melancholy, was it not a
sufficient one?”--“Oh, my brother,” cried the sultan, in a
voice that shewed how much he sympathised with him, “what a
dreadful tale have you unfolded to me! with what impatience have I
listened to you. I praise you for having punished the wretches; and
no one can reproach you for it; as it is only just. And I own, had I
been in your place, I should perhaps have been less easily
satisfied. I should not have been contented with taking away the
life of one woman, but should have sacrificed a thousand to my
resentment. I am not astonished at your melancholy; the cause was
too powerful and acute not to yield to it. Heavens! what an
adventure: your fate surely is most singular, nor can have ever
happened to any one besides. Since, however, it has pleased God to
afford you consolation, and as I am sure that it is equally as well
founded as was the cause of your grief, inform me, I beg, of that
also, and make me acquainted with the whole.”
Upon this point Schahzenan was in more difficulty than before, from
the interest his brother seemed to take in it; but he was obliged to
comply with his earnest request: “I am going to obey you,” said
he, “since you absolutely require it; yet I fear my compliance
will cause you more pain than even I have felt; but you must attach
the fault to yourself alone, since you compel me to reveal what I
wished to remain buried in eternal oblivion.”--“What you tell
me,” interrupted Schahriar, “only heightens my curiosity; hasten
to discover this secret, whatever may be its nature.” The king of
Tartary, being no longer able to prevent it, detailed the whole that
he had seen; the disguises of the blacks, the conduct of the sultana
and her women; nor was Masoud forgotten. “After having witnessed
this infamous scene,” continued he, “I began to think that all
women were naturally of this disposition, and were unable to resist
their inclinations. I was no sooner of this opinion, than it
appeared to me a great weakness in any man to suffer his happiness
to rest on their fidelity. This reflection produced many others, and
I was, at length, convinced, that it was best to think of it no
more. It has cost me some trouble, but I have accomplished it; and
if you are of my opinion, you will follow my example.”
Notwithstanding the excellence of this advice, the sultan was unable
to follow it. “What,” said he, furiously, “is it possible that
the sultana of the Indies is capable of such base prostitution? No,
no, my brother, I cannot believe what you have told me, unless I
were to see it myself. It is a deception; you have been imposed
upon; and it is too important a matter not to require positive
proof.”--“If,” replied Schahzenan, “you wish to be witness
to the fact, it will not be difficult to accomplish it. You have
only to give orders for another hunting party, and after we have
both left the city, with the court in our train, we will remain in
our pavilions during the day, and at night we will return alone into
my apartment. I am too certain that you will, during the next day,
observe what I have before seen.” The sultan approved of the plan,
and immediately ordered the party, so that the pavilions were
erected that very day in the appointed place.
The two princes set out on the following morning with all their
train. They arrived at the camp, and remained there till night.
Schahriar then called his grand vizier, and without discovering his
intention, commanded him to take his place during his absence, and
to suffer no person to leave the camp upon any account whatever. As
soon as the sultan had given these orders, he and his brother got on
their horses, passed unknown through the camp, entered the city, and
went directly to the palace occupied by Schahzenan. They then
retired to rest, but rose early in the morning, and took their
station at the same window where the king of Tartary had observed
the former scene with the blacks. They enjoyed the freshness of the
morning, for the sun had not yet risen; and during their
conversation they frequently cast their eyes towards the secret
door. At length it was opened, and to sum up all in a few words, the
sultana, with her women, and the ten disguised blacks, instantly
appeared, and having called Masoud, the sultan was soon too fatally
convinced of his disgraceful misfortune. “Oh God!” he cried,
“what indignity, what horror! is it possible, that the wife of so
powerful a sovereign as I am, can be capable of such infamy. What
prince, after this, can dare to call himself happy. Ah, my
brother,” added he, embracing him, “let us renounce the world;
fidelity is banished from it, and if it flatters us one moment, it
betrays us the next. Let us leave our dominions and all the pomp
that surrounds us, and in foreign kingdoms pass an obscure life, and
endeavour to conceal our disgrace.” Schahzenan did not approve of
this plan; but seeing the agony which his brother was then in, he
dared not oppose it. “I have no other will than yours, my
brother,” replied he, “I am ready to follow you wherever you
please; but promise me, that you will return whenever you meet with
any one who shall be more unfortunate than we are.”--“I do
promise you,” replied the sultan, “but I very much doubt whether
we shall ever meet with such a one.”--“I am of a different
opinion,” added the king of Tartary, “and our journey may be
shorter than you expect.”--They then departed secretly from the
palace, and took a different road from that by which they came. They
travelled as long as it was light, and passed the first night under
some trees. As soon as the morning broke, they got up and resumed
their journey, till they came to a beautiful meadow near the
sea-shore, along which, at certain distances, were some very large
and thick trees. They seated themselves under one of them to rest
and take some refreshment, during which the infidelity of their
respective queens became the subject of their discourse.
They had not long conversed together, when they heard a most
horrible noise very near them, towards the sea; and a sudden loud
and lamentable cry that filled them with dread. The sea itself
immediately opened, and they observed an immense black column rising
out of it, whose top seemed lost in the clouds. This sight redoubled
their fears; they instantly got up, and climbed to the top of a
tree, which appeared likely to conceal them. They were scarcely got
there, when looking towards the spot from whence the noise came, and
where the sea had opened, they observed, that the black column
unfolded itself, as it were, and approached the shore. For a moment,
they could not conceive what it was, but it very soon became evident.
It was one of those wicked genii who are the avowed enemies to
mankind. He was black and hideous, and in form like an immense
giant. He carried on his head a large glass case, secured by four
locks of bright steel. With this he came into the meadow, and set it
down at the foot of the very tree in which the princes were hidden.
They, knowing the great danger they were in, gave themselves up for
lost.
This wicked genius then sat down near the case, and having opened it
with four keys, which were suspended from his girdle, a female,
superbly dressed, of a fine figure and incomparable beauty,
immediately came out. The monster made her sit by his side, and
casting an amorous look at her, he said, “Lady, thou most
accomplished of all that are admired for their beauty, whom I
carried away on the very day of thy nuptials, and to whom I have
been continually constant since, suffer me to repose a few moments
near thee; feeling myself overcome with sleep, I sought this place
to indulge in a little rest.” Having said this, he let his immense
head fall on her lap; and stretching out his legs, which extended
almost to the sea, he immediately fell asleep, and began to snore,
till the very shore echoed with the noise.
The lady, raising her eyes by chance, perceived the princes in the
tree, and immediately made a sign with her hand for them to come
down without making any noise. When they found they were thus
discovered, their fears became more violent. They entreated her, by
signs, to permit them to remain where they were; but she, on the
contrary, having gently lifted up the giant’s head, and placed it
softly on the ground, got up, and said to them in a low but animated
voice, “Descend; it is absolutely necessary that you should come
down to me.” In vain did they endeavour, by various methods, to
make her comprehend how much they dreaded her hideous companion:--
“Come down,” continued she, in the same tone, “for if you
hesitate, I will wake him, and request him to destroy you.”
These words so much alarmed them, that they began to descend, though
with all possible precaution. When they were on the ground, the lady
took them by the hand, and leading them among some trees, she
directly made a proposal to them of a nature not the most modest. At
first they refused her; but she obliged them by fresh threats to
comply with her wishes. Having gratified her inclination, she
observed, that they had each a ring on their fingers, which she
requested of them. She had no sooner received them, than taking a
small box out of a parcel, that contained her wardrobe, she drew
from it a string of rings of various sorts, and shewing it to the
princes, said, “Do you know what this means?”--“We do not,”
they answered, “but it remains for you to inform us.”--“They
are,” she replied, “the rings of all those on whom I have
bestowed my favors. There are exactly ninety-eight, and yours, which
I have requested for that purpose, will make a hundred, which I
wished to accomplish. Observe,” continued she, “the hundred
lovers that I have now had, in spite of all the precautions and
vigilance of this wretch, who never quits me. Let him shut me up in
his glass case, and conceal me at the bottom of the sea, if he
pleases, I will not fail to make his caution useless. You may know
by this, that when once a female has formed any scheme, neither
husband nor lover can prevent its accomplishment. Men had better put
no restraint upon women, and it would be the means of preserving
them chaste.” The lady, having said this, added their rings to the
list. She then seated herself as before, replaced the head of the
genius upon her lap, and made a sign to the princes to depart.
They immediately retreated by the same road They came, and when they
were out of sight of the lady and her formidable companion,
Schahriar said to Schahzenan, “what think you, brother, of this
adventure which hath happened to us? Has not this genius got a truly
faithful mistress? Do you not agree, that nothing can equal the
malice of women? “I do,” replied the king of Tartary, “and you
must allow also, that the genius has much more to complain of, and
is more unfortunate than we are. Since, therefore, we have found
what we were in search of, let us return to our dominions, and not
suffer this to prevent us from forming a fresh marriage. With
respect to myself, I know by what method I expect to preserve
inviolate the fidelity I think due to me. I will not now explain
myself, but you shall one day learn; and I have no doubt but you
will follow my example.” The sultan was of the same opinion as his
brother, and pursuing their journey, they arrived, towards the end
of the third night, at the camp.
The news of the sultan’s return being known, the courtiers
hastened early in the morning to the royal pavilion. He received
them in a more lively manner than usual, and gratified all of them
by his gracious reception. He then declared, that he should proceed
no further, and ordering them to mount, he immediately set out on
his return.
The sultan was no sooner arrived, than he hastened to the apartment
of the sultana. He ordered her to be bound, and having delivered her
to his grand vizier, he commanded him to have her strangled. This
sentence was executed by him without enquiring into the crime for
which she suffered. The indignant prince did not stop here; he
beheaded all the sultana’s women with his own hand. After this
rigorous proceeding, being persuaded that a truly virtuous woman did
not exist, he resolved, in order to prevent a possibility of
infidelity for the future, to marry every night, and have his
mistress strangled in the morning. Having imposed this cruel law
upon himself, he swore to observe it immediately on the departure of
the king, his brother; who soon after took his leave, and returned
to his own kingdom, loaded with the most magnificent presents.
When Schahzenan was gone, the sultan failed not to order his grand
vizier to bring him the daughter of one of his generals. The vizier
obeyed; and the sultan, having passed the night with her, delivered
her into the hands of the vizier for execution, and commanded him to
procure another against the following night. However repugnant these
commands might be to the vizier, he was obliged to submit. He then
brought the sultan the daughter of a subaltern officer, who, as
usual, suffered death the next morning. The next was the daughter of
a citizen. And thus every day a maiden was married, and every day a
wife was sacrificed.
The report of this unexampled inhumanity spread a universal
consternation through the city. In one place a wretched father was
in tears for the loss of his daughter; in another, the air resounded
with the groans of tender mothers, who dreaded lest the same fate
should attend their offspring. In this manner, instead of the
praises and blessings with which, till now, they loaded their
monarch, all his subjects poured out imprecations on his head.
The grand vizier, who, as has been mentioned, was the unwilling
agent of this horrid injustice, had two daughters; the elder was
called Scheherazadè, and the youngest Dinarzadè. The latter was by
no means deficient in merit; but Scheherazadè was possessed of a
degree of courage beyond her sex, joined to an extent of knowledge
and degree of penetration that was truly astonishing. She had read
much, and was possessed of so great a memory, that she never forgot
any thing she had once perused. She had applied also, with much
success, to philosophy, to medicine, to history, and to the arts;
and made better verses than the most celebrated poets of the time.
Besides this, her beauty was incomparable; and her virtuous
disposition crowned all those valuable qualities.
The vizier was passionately fond of so deserving a daughter. As they
were conversing together one day, she addressed him in these words:
“I have a favor to ask of you, my father; and I entreat you not to
refuse me.”--“I will not refuse you,” replied he, “provided
the request be just and reasonable.”--“It is impossible,”
added Scheherazadè, “to be more just, as you will judge from the
motives I have in making it. My design is to put a stop to this
dreadful barbarity which the sultan exercises over the inhabitants
of this city. I wish to dispel the just apprehension which all
mothers entertain for the safety of their daughters.”--“Your
intention, my child” said the vizier, “is very laudable; but the
evil which you wish to cure seems to me without a remedy; how would
you set about it?”--“Since, by your means,” replied
Scheherazadè, “the sultan celebrates a fresh marriage every day,
I conjure you, by the tender affection you have for me, to procure
me the honor of his bed.” This speech filled the vizier with
horror. “O God!” cried he eagerly, “have you lost your senses,
my daughter, that you make me so dangerous a request? Do you know,
that the sultan has solemnly sworn, he will receive no one to his
bed but for one night; and that he regularly orders her to be
carried to execution in the morning? Can you then think of being
allied to him? Recollect to what your indiscreet zeal exposes
you.”--“Yes, my father,” replied this virtuous damsel, “I
am aware of the danger I run, but it does not deter me from my
purpose. If I die, my death will be glorious; and, if I succeed, I
shall render my country an important service.”--“No, no,”
replied the vizier, “do not suppose, that any thing you can urge
will induce me to comply with your wishes, and put you in so
dreadful a situation. Can I, alas! obey the sultan, when he orders
me to plunge a poniard into your bosom. What horrible employment for
a father! If you do not yourself fear death, at least hesitate to
inflict on me the pain of being the wretched instrument, and
embruing my hand with your blood.”--“Still, my father,” said
Scheherazadè, “I implore you to grant my request.”--“Your
obstinacy,” replied he, “excites my anger; why can you wish thus
to rush to your own destruction? They who do not look forward to the
end of a dangerous enterprise, know not how to bring it to a
fortunate conclusion. The same thing will, I fear, happen to you,
which did to the ass, who was well off, yet could not keep so.”
--“What happened to the ass?” replied Scheherazadè. “Listen
to me,” answered the vizier, “and I will relate the story.”
THE FABLE
OF THE ASS, THE OX, AND THE LABOURER.
A very rich merchant had several houses in the country, where he
bred a considerable number of cattle of various descriptions. It
happened, that he went to reside on one of his estates with his wife
and children, for the purpose of superintending some improvements.
The merchant understood the language of beasts; but it was only on
the condition of not imparting what he heard to any one, under the
penalty of death. Consequently he was prevented from communicating
the knowledge he might thus acquire.
He had put by chance an ox and an ass into the same stall; and being
one day seated near them, he heard the ox say to the ass: “How
happy do I think your lot, when I consider the repose you enjoy, and
the little labour you are required to perform. A servant looks after
you with great care, washes you, feeds you with fine sifted barley,
and gives you fresh and clean water; your greatest task is to carry
the merchant, our master, when he has occasion to take a short
journey; but for that, your whole life would be passed in idleness.
How different now is the manner in which they treat me: my condition
is as unfortunate as yours is pleasant. It is scarcely midnight when
they yoke me to a plough, with which they make me turn up the ground
the whole day; this sometimes quite exhausts me; while the labourer,
who is constantly behind, continually urges me on with his goad. The
weight and force of the plough, too, chafes all the skin from my
neck. After having worked from morning till night, they give me
unwholesome dirty beans, or even something worse; and to complete my
misery, after having been obliged to satisfy my hunger upon such
uninviting food, I am compelled to pass the night in my own filth.
Have I not then reason to envy your lot?”
The ass suffered the ox to say what he pleased without interruption;
and when he had finished, the former addressed him in these words:
“In truth they are not much out when they call you an idiot, since
you pass your life just as they please, and are not capable of
forming a good resolution. What benefit, pray, do you derive from
all your indignities? You even destroy yourself for the ease,
pleasure, and profit of those who do not thank you for it. Believe
me, they would not treat you thus if you possessed as much courage
as strength; when they come to tie you to the manger, what
resistance, pray, do you ever make? Do you ever put them in mind of
your horns? Do you ever shew your anger by stamping on the ground
with your feet? Why don’t you inspire them with dread by your
bellowing? Nature has given you the means of making yourself
respected, and yet you neglect to use them. They bring you bad beans
and chaff; well, do not eat them, smell at them only, and leave
them. Thus, if you follow my plans, you will soon perceive a change,
which you will thank me for.” The ox took the advice of the ass
very kindly, and shewed himself much obliged to him. “My dear
companion,” added he, “I will not fail to do as you bid me, and
you shall see how I will acquit myself.” After this conversation,
of which the merchant lost not a word, they were silent.
Early the next morning, the labourer came for the ox, and yoked him
to the plough, and set him to work as usual. The latter, who had not
forgotten the advice he had received, was very unruly the whole day;
and at night, when the labourer attempted to fasten him as usual to
the stall, the malicious animal, instead of turning his horns
towards him for that purpose, began to be outrageous, and ran
roaring back; he even put down his horns to strike him; in short, he
did exactly as the ass had taught him. The day following when the
man came, he found the manger still full of beans and chaff; and the
animal lying on the ground, with his legs stretched out, and making
a strange groaning. The labourer thought it very ill, and that it
was useless to take him to work; he therefore immediately went and
informed the merchant of it.
The latter perceived that the bad advice of the ass had been
followed; and in order to punish him as he deserved, he told the
labourer to go and take the ass instead of the ox, and not fail to
give him plenty of exercise. The man obeyed; and the ass was obliged
to drag the plough the whole day, which tired him the more, because
he was unaccustomed to it; besides which, he was so completely
beaten, that he could scarcely support himself when he came back.
In the mean time the ox was very well satisfied, he eat all that was
in his rack, and had rested the whole day. He was highly pleased
with himself for having followed the advice of the ass, and blessed
him a thousand times for the good he had procured him. As soon as he
saw him return, he did not fail to repeat his thanks. The ass was so
enraged at having been thus ill treated, that he would not answer a
word. “My own imprudence,” said he to himself, “has alone
brought this misfortune upon me. I lived happily, every thing was
pleasant, I had all I wished for, and I may thank myself only for
this reverse. If I cannot contrive some trick to get out of the
scrape, my destruction is inevitable.” In saying this his strength
was so much exhausted, that he fell down in his stall half dead.
In this place the grand vizier said to Scheherazade, “You are, my
child, this ass, and expose yourself through a false idea of
prudence and rectitude. Trust to me; and remain here in safety,
without seeking your own destruction.”--“Sir,” replied
Scheherazadè, “the example which you have brought, does not alter
my resolution; and I shall not cease importuning you, till I have
obtained from you the favor of presenting me to the sultan as his
consort.” The vizier, finding her persist in her request, said,
“Well then, since you will remain thus obstinate, I shall be
obliged to treat you as the merchant I mentioned did his wife.”
Being told in what a miserable state the ass was, he was curious to
know what passed between him and the ox; after supper, therefore, he
went out by moonlight, accompanied by his wife, and sat down near
them; on his arrival, he heard the ass say to the ox, “Tell me,
brother, what you mean to do when the labourer brings your food
to-morrow?--“Mean to do?” replied the ox, “why what you
taught me. At first I shall begin to retreat, then put down my horns
as yesterday, and pretend to be ill, and almost dying.”--“Take
care,” interrupted the ass, “what you are about, lest you
destroy yourself; for in coming home yesterday evening, I heard the
merchant, our master, say what made me tremble for you.”--“What
did you hear?” asked the latter; “conceal nothing from me, I
entreat you.”--“Our master,” replied the ass, addressed his
labourer in these sad words, ‘Since the ox can neither eat nor
support himself, I wish him to be killed to-morrow; we will give his
flesh in charity to the poor, and you shall carry his skin, which
will be useful to the currier; do not therefore fail to send for the
butcher.’ This is what I heard; and the interest I take in your
safety, and the friendship I have for you, induces me to mention it,
and offer you my opinion on the subject. At first when they bring
you beans and chaff, get up and begin eating directly. Our master by
this will suppose that you have recovered, and will, without doubt,
revoke the sentence for your death; in my opinion, if you act
otherwise, it is all over with you.”
This speech produced the intended effect; the ox was much troubled,
and lowed with fear. The merchant, who had listened to every thing
with great attention, burst into a fit of laughter that quite
surprised his wife. “Tell me,” said she, “what you laugh at,
that I may join in it.”--“Be satisfied,” he answered, “at
hearing me.”--“No, no,” she added, “I wish to know the
cause.”--“That satisfaction,” replied the husband, “I
cannot afford you: I can only tell you, that I laughed at what the
ass said to the ox; the rest is a secret, which I must not
reveal.”--“And why not?” asked his wife. “Because, if I
tell you, it will cost me my life.”--“You trifle with me,”
added she; “this can never be true; and if you do not immediately
inform me what you laughed at, I swear, by the great Ruler of the
earth, that we will live together no longer.”
In saying this, she went back to the house, shut herself up, and
cried the whole night. Her husband slept alone; and finding that she
continued in the same state the next day, he said, “How foolish it
is to afflict yourself this way: the thing is not worth it, nor can
it be of so much consequence to you to know it, as for me to keep it
concealed. Think no more of it then, I conjure you.”--“I shall,
however, so continue to think of it,” replied she, “that I shall
not cease to lament, till my curiosity is satisfied.”--“Do I
not seriously tell you,” added he, “that if I were to yield to
your foolish importunities, it would cost me my life.”
--“Whatever happens rests with God,” said she, “but I shall
not alter my mind.”--“I see very plainly,” answered the
merchant, “it is not possible to make you submit to reason, and
that your obstinacy will kill you; therefore I will call your
children, that they may have the satisfaction of seeing you before
you die.” He then ordered his family to be present, and sent also
for the parents and other relations of his wife; when they were all
assembled, he explained to them his motives for calling them
together: and requested them to use all their influence with his
wife, and endeavour to convince her of the folly of her conduct. She
rejected them all, and said she had rather die than give up this
point to her husband. Each of her parents urged every argument, and
used every persuasion in their power; they told her, that what she
wished to know could be of no consequence to her; but they could
make no impression either by their authority or eloquence. When her
children saw that nothing could alter her resolution, they began to
lament most bitterly; the merchant himself knew not what to do. A
little while afterwards he was sitting by chance at the door of his
house, considering whether he should not even sacrifice himself in
order to save his wife, whom he so tenderly loved.
This merchant, my child (continued the vizier, still addressing
Scheherazadè) had fifty hens and only one cock, and also a very
faithful dog. While he was sitting at the door, meditating what plan
to pursue, he saw the dog run towards the cock, who was amusing
himself with a hen, and address him in these words: “You will not,
O cock, be suffered to live long, if you are not ashamed of being
thus employed to-day.” The latter, strutting up to the dog,
haughtily answered, “Who shall prevent my doing what I please
to-day as well as at other times?”--“Are you ignorant then,”
replied the dog, “that our master is in great affliction? His wife
wishes him to reveal a secret of such a nature, that the discovery
will cost him his life: and it is feared he will be unable to resist
her importunities, as the tears of one he so much loves afflict him
to such a degree: we are all alarmed at the dangerous situation he
is in, while you, insulting our grief, have the impertinence to
divert yourself with your hens.”
“Our master is a fool then,” replied the cock; “he has only
one wife, and cannot gain his point; while I have fifty, and do just
as I please. Let him return to his senses, and he will easily get
out of the embarrassment he is in.”--“What would you do?”
said the dog.--“What?” answered the cock, “why let him only
go into the room where his wife is, and after shutting the door,
take a good-sized stick, and give her a handsome beating; I will
answer for it she will soon know better, and not worry him to reveal
what he ought to keep secret.” The merchant no sooner heard what
the cock said, than he got up, and taking rather a large stick, went
to his wife, who was still weeping. Having shut the door he applied
the remedy so effectually, that she soon exclaimed, “Enough,
enough, my husband, leave me, and I will ask no more questions.”
On hearing this, and believing that she repented of her ill-timed
curiosity, he gave over beating her, and opening the door, all her
family came in, heartily glad at finding her more rational, and
congratulated her husband on the happy expedient he found out for
the purpose. “You deserve, my daughter,” added the grand vizier,
“to be treated like the merchant’s wife.”
“Do not, sir,” answered Scheherazadè, “think ill of me if I
still persist in my sentiments. The history of this woman does not
shake my resolution; I could recount, on the other hand, many others
which ought to persuade you not to oppose my design. Pardon me too,
if I add, that your opposition will be useless; when paternal
tenderness shall have refused the request I make, I will present
myself to the sultan.” At length her father, overcome by his
daughter’s firmness, yielded to her entreaties: and, although he
was much afflicted at not being able to conquer her resolution, he
immediately went to Schahriar and announced to him, that
Scheherazadè herself would be his bride on the following night.
The sultan was much astonished at the sacrifice of the grand vizier.
“Is it possible,” said he, “that you can give up your own
child?”--“Sire,” replied the vizier, “she has herself made
the offer. The dreadful fate that hangs over her does not alarm her;
and she prefers, even to her existence, the honor of being the
consort of your majesty, though it be but for one night.”
--“Vizier,” said the sultan, “do not deceive yourself with any
hopes; for be assured, that in delivering Scheherazadè into your
charge to-morrow, it will be with an order for her death; and if you
disobey, your own head shall be the forfeit.”--“Although,”
answered the vizier, “my heart is distracted at fulfilling your
majesty’s commands, although human nature has much to lament, and
although I am her father, I will answer for the fidelity of this
arm.” Schahriar accepted his minister’s offer, and informed him
he might bring his daughter when he pleased.
When the grand vizier carried this intelligence to Scheherazadè,
she seemed as much rejoiced as if it had been of the most pleasing
nature; she thanked her father for obliging her so greatly; and
observing him to be much afflicted, she consoled him by saying, that
she hoped he would be so far from repenting her marriage with the
sultan, that it would become a subject of joy to him for the
remainder of his life.
She now occupied herself with the manner in which she should appear
before the sultan; but before she went to the palace she called her
sister, Dinarzadè, aside, and said, “I am in great want of your
assistance, my dear sister, in a very important affair: and I hope
you will not refuse me. My father is going to conduct me to the
palace as the wife of the sultan. Do not let this news alarm you,
but attend rather to what I say. As soon as I shall have presented
myself before the sultan, I shall intreat him to suffer you to sleep
in the bridal chamber, that I may enjoy, for the last time, your
company. If I obtain this favor, as I expect, remember to awaken me
to-morrow morning an hour before day-break, and address these words
to me: “_If you are not asleep, my sister, I beg of you, till the
morning appears, to recount to me one of those delightful stories
you know._” I will immediately begin to tell you one; and I
flatter myself that by these means I shall free the kingdom from the
consternation in which it is.” Dinarzadè promised to do with
pleasure what she required.
When the hour of retiring approached, the grand vizier conducted
Scheherazadè to the palace, and after introducing her to the
sultan’s apartment, took his leave. They were no sooner alone than
the sultan ordered her to take off her veil. He was charmed with her
beauty; but perceiving her in tears, he demanded the cause of them.
“Sire,” answered Scheherazade, “I have a sister, whom I
tenderly love, and whose attachment to me is equally strong; I
earnestly wish, that she might be permitted to pass the night in
this apartment, that we might again see each other, and again take a
tender farewell. Will you then consent that I shall have the
consolation of giving her this last proof of my affection? Schahriar
having agreed to it, they sent for Dinarzadè, who came directly.
The sultan passed the night with Scheherazadè on an elevated couch,
as was the custom among the eastern monarchs; and Dinarzadè slept
at the foot of it on a mattress, prepared for the purpose.
Dinarzadè, having awoke about an hour before day, did not fail to
do what her sister had ordered her. “My dear sister,” she said,
“if you are not asleep, I entreat you, as it will soon be light,
to relate to me one of those agreeable tales you know. It will,
alas, be the last time I shall receive that pleasure.”
Instead of returning any answer to her sister, Scheherazadè
addressed these words to the sultan; “Will your majesty permit me
to indulge my sister in her request?”--“Freely,” replied he.
Scheherazadè then desired her sister to attend, and, addressing
herself to the sultan, began as follows.
THE STORY
OF THE MERCHANT AND THE GENIUS.
There was formerly, Sire, a merchant, who was possessed of great
wealth, in land, in merchandize, and in ready money. He had a
numerous set of clerks, factors, and slaves; and, from his great
extent of commerce, he was from time to time obliged to take various
journeys, in order to arrange his affairs in person with his
correspondents. Having one day an affair of great importance to
settle at a considerable distance from home, he mounted his horse,
and with only a sort of cloak-bag behind him, in which he had put a
few biscuits and dates, he began his journey. This provision was
absolutely necessary, as he was obliged to pass over a desert, where
it was impossible to procure any kind of food. He arrived, without
any accident, at the place of his destination; and having finished
his business, he set out on his return.
On the fourth day of his journey, he felt himself so incommoded by
the sun, and the heated surface of the earth, that he turned out of
his road, in order to rest and refresh himself under some trees,
which he saw at a distance. At the foot of a large walnut-tree he
perceived a very transparent and cool fountain. He immediately
alighted, and tying his horse to a branch of the tree, sat down on
its bank; having first taken some biscuits and dates from his little
store. While he was thus satisfying his hunger, he amused himself
with throwing about the stones of the fruit with considerable
velocity. When he had finished his frugal repast, he washed his
hands, his face, and his feet, and repeated a prayer, like a good
mussulman.
He had hardly made an end, and was still on his knees, when he saw a
genius, white with age, and of an enormous stature, advancing
towards him, with a scimitar in his hand; as soon as he was close to
him, he said in a most terrible tone: “Get up, that I may kill
thee with this scimitar, as thou hast caused the death of my son.”
He accompanied these words with a dreadful yell. The merchant,
alarmed by the horrible figure of this monster, as well as the words
he heard, replied, in trembling accents, “Of what crime, my good
lord, alas, can I have been guilty towards you, to deserve the loss
of life?”--“I have sworn to kill thee, as thou hast slain my
son.”--“Good God,” answered the merchant, “how can I have
slain him? I do not know him, nor have I ever seen him?”
--“Didst thou not,” replied the monster, “on your arrival here
sit down, and take some dates from thy wallet; and after eating them
didst thou not throw the stones about on all sides?”--“This is
all true,” replied the merchant: “I do not deny it.”--“Well
then,” said the other, “I tell thee, thou hast killed my son;
for while thou wast throwing about the stones, my son passed by; one
of them struck him in the eye, and caused his death, and thus thou
hast slain my son.”--“Ah, sir, forgive me,” cried the
merchant. “I have neither forgiveness nor mercy,” added the
monster; “and is it not just that he who has inflicted death
should suffer it?”--“I grant this; yet surely I have not done
so: and even if I have, I have done so innocently, and therefore I
entreat you to pardon me, and suffer me to live.”--“No, no,”
cried the genius, still persisting in his resolution, “I must
destroy thee, as thou hast done my son.” At these words he took
the merchant in his arms, and having thrown him with his face on the
ground, he lifted up his sabre, in order to strike off his head.
The merchant, in the mean time, bathed in tears, protested his
innocence, and lamenting his wife and children, tried the most
persuasive means to avert his fate. The genius, still holding up the
sabre, waited, however, till he had ended his complaints; though it
altered not his purpose. “All thy lamentations are vain,” he
cried; “were thy eyes to weep blood, it should not prevent my
killing thee, as thou hast slain my son.”--“Can nothing
then,” replied the merchant, “soften you? Must you shed the
blood of a poor innocent being?”--“Yes,” he added, “I am
resolved.”
Scheherazadè, at this instant, perceiving it was day, and knowing
that the sultan rose early to his prayers, and then to hold a
council, broke off. “What a wonderful story,” said Dinarzadè,
“have you pitched upon.”--“The conclusion,” answered
Scheherazadè, “is still more surprising, as you would confess, if
the sultan would suffer me to live another day, and in the morning
permit me to continue the relation.”--Schahriar, who had listened
with much pleasure to the narration, determined, in his own mind, to
wait till to-morrow; intending to order her execution after she had
finished her story. Having resolved to defer her death till the
following day, he arose, and having prayed, went to the council. [2]
The grand vizier, in the mean time, was in a state of cruel
suspense. Unable to sleep, he passed the night in lamenting the
approaching fate of his daughter, whose executioner he was compelled
to be. Dreading, therefore, in this melancholy situation, to meet
the sultan, how great was his surprise in seeing him enter the
council-chamber, without giving him the horrible orders he expected.
The sultan spent the day, as usual, in regulating the affairs of his
kingdom, and on the approach of night retired with Scheherazadè to
his apartment. The next morning, before the day appeared, Dinarzadè
did not fail to remind her sister: “My dear sister,” she said,
“if you are not asleep, I entreat you, before the morning breaks,
to continue your story.” The sultan did not wait for Scheherazadè
to ask permission, but said, “Finish the tale of the genius and
the merchant: I am curious to hear the end of it.” Scheherazadè
immediately went on as follows.
When the merchant, sire, perceived that the genius was about to
execute his purpose, he cried aloud, “One word more, I entreat
you; have the goodness to grant me a little delay; give me only time
to go and take leave of my wife and children, and divide my estates
among them, as I have not yet made my will, that they may not be
obliged to have recourse to any legal process after my death; and
when I have done this, I promise to return to this spot, and submit
myself entirely to your pleasure.”--“But if I grant you the
respite you demand,” replied the genius, “I fear you will not
return.”--“If my oath will assure you of it,” added the
merchant, “I swear by the God of heaven and earth, that I will not
fail to repair thither.”--“What length of time do you
require?” said the genius.--“It will take me a full year to
arrange every thing, and enable me to bear, with composure, the loss
of life. I therefore promise you, that you shall find me to-morrow
twelvemonths under these trees, waiting to deliver myself into your
hands.”--“Take thy God to witness of the promise thou hast made
me,” said the other. “Again I swear,” replied he, “and you
may rely on my oath.” On this the genius left him near the
fountain, and immediately disappeared.
The merchant having recovered from his fright, mounted his horse,
and continued his journey. But if, on the one hand, he rejoiced at
escaping from the great peril he was in, he was, on the other, much
distressed, when he recollected the fatal oath he had taken. When he
arrived at home, his wife and family received him with signs of the
greatest joy; but instead of returning their embraces, he wept so
bitterly, that they supposed something very extraordinary had
happened. His wife inquired the cause of his tears, and of that
grief which appeared so violent. “We were rejoicing,” she said,
“at your return, and you alarm us all by the situation we see you
in; explain, I entreat you, the cause of your violent sorrow.”
--“Alas!” he replied, “how should I feel otherwise, when I
have only a year to live?” He then related to them what had
passed, and that he had given his word to return, at the end of a
year, to receive his death.
When they heard this melancholy tale they were in despair. The wife
uttered the most lamentable groans, tearing her hair, and beating
her breast; the children made the house resound with their grief;
while the father, overcome by affection, mingled his tears with
theirs. In short, the whole was a most affecting scene.
The next day the merchant began to settle his affairs, and first of
all to pay his debts. He made many presents to his different
friends, and large donations to the poor. He set at liberty many of
his slaves of both sexes; divided his property among his children;
appointed guardians for such as were young; and in returning to his
wife all the fortune she brought him, he added as much more as the
law would permit.
The year soon passed away, and he was compelled to depart. He took,
in his portmanteau, the garment he wished to be buried in; but when
he attempted to take leave of his wife and children, his grief quite
overcame him. They could not bear his loss, and almost resolved to
accompany him, and all perish together. Compelled at length to tear
himself away from objects so dear, he addressed these words to them:
“In leaving you, my children, I obey the command of God; imitate
me, and submit, with fortitude, to this necessity. Remember, that to
die is the inevitable destiny of man.” Having said this, he
snatched himself away from them, and set out. He arrived at the
destined spot on the very day he had promised. He got off his horse,
and seating himself by the side of the fountain, with such sorrowful
sensations as may easily be imagined, waited the arrival of the
genius.
While he was kept in this cruel suspense, there appeared an old man
leading a hind, who came near to him. Having saluted each other, the
old man said, “May I ask of you, brother, what brought you to this
desert place, which is so full of evil genii there is no safety.
From the appearance of these trees, one might suppose it was
inhabited; but it is, in fact, a solitude, where it is dangerous to
stay long.”
The merchant satisfied the old man’s curiosity, and related his
adventure. He listened with astonishment to the account, and having
heard it, he said, “nothing in the world surely can be more
surprising; and you have kept your oath inviolable! In truth I
should like to be a witness to your interview with the genius.”
Having said this, he sat down near the merchant, and while they were
talking, another old man, followed by two black dogs, came in sight.
As soon as he was near enough, he saluted them, and inquired the
reason of their stay in that place. The first old man related the
adventure of the merchant exactly as he had told it; and added, that
this was the appointed day, and therefore he was determined to
remain, in order to see the event.
The second old man, thinking it also very curious, resolved to do
the same; and sitting down, joined in the conversation. He had
hardly done so, when a third arrived, and addressing himself to the
other two, asked, why the merchant, who was then with them, appeared
so melancholy. They related the cause, which seemed to him so
wonderful, that he also resolved to be witness to what passed
between the genius and the merchant. He therefore sat down with them
for this purpose.
They immediately perceived, towards the plain, a thick vapour or
smoke, like a column of dust, raised by the wind. This vapour
approached them, and then suddenly disappearing, they saw the
genius, who, without noticing them, went towards the merchant with
his scimitar in his hand; and taking him by the arm, “Get up,”
said he, “that I may kill thee, as thou hast slain my son.” Both
the merchant and the three old men were so alarmed they began to
weep, and fill the air with their lamentations.
When the old man who conducted the hind saw the genius lay hold of
the merchant, and about to murder him without mercy, he threw
himself at the monster’s feet, and, kissing them, said, “Prince
of the genii, I humbly entreat you to suspend your rage, and do me
the favor to listen to me. I wish to relate my own history, and that
of the hind, which you see; and if you find it more wonderful and
surprising than the adventure of this merchant, whose life you wish
to take, may I not hope that you will at least remit a third part of
the punishment of this unfortunate man.” After meditating some
time, the genius answered, “Well then, I agree to it.”
THE HISTORY
OF THE FIRST OLD MAN AND THE HIND.
I am now going, said he, to begin my tale, and I request your
attention. The hind, whom you see here, is my cousin; nay, more, she
is my wife. When I married her, she was only twelve years old; and
she ought therefore not only to look upon me as her relation and
husband, but even as her father.
We lived together thirty years, without having any children; this,
however, was no draw-back upon my kindness and regard. Still my
desire of offspring was so great, that for this purpose, and for
this only, I purchased a female slave, who bore me a son of great
promise and expectation. Soon after, my wife became infected with
jealousy, and consequently took a great aversion to both mother and
child; yet she so well concealed her sentiments, that I became
acquainted with them, alas, too late.
In the mean time my son grew up; and he was about ten years old,
when I was obliged to make a journey. I recommended both the slave
and the child to my wife, before my departure, as I had no distrust
of her, and prayed her to take great care of them during my absence,
which would not be less than a year. During this time she
endeavoured to satiate her hatred. She applied herself to the study
of magic; and when she was sufficiently skilled in that diabolical
art to execute the horrible design she meditated, the wretch carried
my son to a distant place. When there, by her enchantments, she
changed him into a calf, gave him to my steward, and ordered him to
bring him up as a calf, which she said she had bought. She was not,
however, satisfied with this infamous action, but metamorphosed the
slave into a cow, which she also sent to my steward.
Immediately on my return I inquired after my child and his mother.
“Your slave is dead,” said she, “and it is now more than two
months since I have beheld your son; nor do I know what is become of
him.” I was sensibly affected at the death of the slave; but as my
son only disappeared, I flattered myself that he would soon be
found. Eight months however passed, and he did not return; nor could
I learn any tidings of him. In order to celebrate the festival of
the great Bairam, which was approaching, I ordered my steward to
bring me the fattest cow I had for a sacrifice. He obeyed my
commands; and the cow he brought me was my own slave, the
unfortunate mother of my son. Having bound her, I was about to make
the sacrifice, when at the very instant she lowed most sorrowfully,
and the tears even fell from her eyes. This seemed to me so
extraordinary, that I could not but feel compassion for her, and was
unable to give the fatal blow. I therefore ordered her to be taken
away, and another brought.
My wife, who was present, seemed angry at my compassion, and opposed
an order which defeated her malice. “What are you about, my
husband?” said she, “why not sacrifice this cow? Your steward
has not a more beautiful one, nor one more proper for the
purpose.” Wishing to oblige my wife, I again approached the cow;
and struggling with my pity, which suspended the sacrifice, I was
again going to give the mortal blow, when the victim a second time
disarmed me by her redoubled tears and moanings. I then delivered
the instruments into the hands of my steward. “Take them,” I
cried, “and make the sacrifice yourself, the lamentations and
tears of the animal have overcome me.”
The steward was less compassionate, and sacrificed her. On taking
off the skin we found hardly any thing but bones, though she
appeared very fat. “Take her away,” said I to the steward, truly
chagrined, “I give her to you to do as you please with; regale
both yourself and whomsoever you wish; and if you have a very fat
calf, bring it in her place. I did not inquire what he did with the
cow, but he had not been gone long, before I saw a remarkable fine
calf brought. Although I was ignorant that this calf was my own son,
yet I felt a sensation of pity arise in my breast at first sight. As
soon also as he perceived me, he made so great an effort to come to
me, that he broke his cord. He lay down at my feet, with his head on
the ground, as if he endeavoured to excite my compassion, and not
have the cruelty to take away his life: striving, in this manner, to
make me comprehend that he was my son.
I was still more surprised and affected by this action, than I had
been by the tears of the cow. I felt a kind of tender pity, which
interested me much for him; or, to speak more correctly, my blood
guided me to what was my duty. “Go back.” I cried, “and take
all possible care of this calf, and, in its room, bring another
directly.”
No sooner did my wife hear this than she exclaimed, “What are you
about, my husband? do not, I pray, sacrifice any other than this.”
--“Wife,” answered I, “I will not sacrifice him; I wish to
favour him, do not you therefore oppose it.”--This wicked woman,
however, did not agree to my proposal; she hated my son too much to
suffer him to remain in safety; and she continued to demand his
sacrifice so obstinately, that I was compelled to yield. I bound the
calf, and, taking the fatal knife, was going to bury it in the
throat of my son, when he turned his eyes, filled with tears, so
persuasively upon me, that I had no power to execute my intention.
The knife fell from my hand, and I told my wife I was determined to
have another calf. She tried every means to induce me to alter my
mind; I continued firm, however, in my resolution, in spite of all
she could say; promising, for the sake of appeasing her, to
sacrifice this calf at the feast of Bairam on the following year.
The next morning my steward desired to speak with me in private.
“I am come,” said he, “to give you some information, which, I
trust, will afford you pleasure. I have a daughter, who has some
little knowledge of magic; and as I was bringing the calf back
yesterday which you were unwilling to sacrifice, I observed, that
she smiled at seeing it, and the next moment began to weep. I
enquired of her the cause of these two contrary emotions. ‘My dear
father,’ she answered, ‘that calf, which you bring back, is the
son of our master; I smiled with joy at seeing him still alive, and
wept at the recollection of his mother, who was yesterday sacrificed
in the shape of a cow. These two metamorphoses have been contrived
by the enchantments of our master’s wife, who hated both the
mother and the child.’--This,” continued the steward, “is
what my daughter said, and I come to report it to you.” Imagine, O
Genius, my surprise at hearing these words: I immediately set out
with my steward, to speak to his daughter myself. On my arrival I
went first to the stable, where my son had been placed; he could not
return my caresses; but he received them in a way, which convinced
me that he was really my son.
When the daughter of the steward made her appearance, I asked her if
she could restore him to his former shape. “Yes,” replied she,
“I can.”--“Ah,” exclaimed I, “if you can perform such a
miracle, I will make you the mistress of all I possess.”--She
then answered with a smile, “You are our master, and I know how
much we are bound to you; but I must mention, that I can restore
your son to his own form, only on two conditions; first, that you
bestow him upon me for my husband; and secondly, that I may be
permitted to punish her who changed him into a calf.”--“To the
first,” I replied, “I agree with all my heart; I will do still
more, I will give you, for your own separate use, a considerable sum
of money, independant of what I destine for my son. In short, you
shall perceive how I can acknowledge the important service you do
me. I agree also to that which regards my wife; a person, who has
been capable of so criminal an action, is worthy of punishment. I
abandon her to you, do what you please with her; I only entreat you
to spare her life.”--“I will treat her then,” she said, “in
the same manner as she has treated your son.”--To this I gave my
consent, provided she first restored my son to me.
The damsel then took a vessel full of water, and pronouncing over it
some words I did not understand, she thus addressed herself to the
calf: “O calf, if thou hast been created by the all-powerful
Sovereign of the world, as thou now appearest, retain that form; but
if thou art a man, and hast been changed by enchantment into a calf,
reassume, by permission of thy divine Creator, thy natural
figure!”--In saying this she threw the water over him, and he
instantly regained his own form.
“My child! my dear child,” I immediately exclaimed, and embraced
him with a transport I could not restrain; “it is the Almighty,
who hath sent this damsel to us, to destroy the horrible charm with
which you were surrounded, and to avenge the evil that has been done
to you and your mother. I am sure gratitude will induce you to
accept her for a wife, as I have already promised for you.”--He
joyfully consented; but before they were united the damsel changed
my wife into this hind, which you see here. I wished her to have
this form in preference to any other more unpleasant, that we might
see her, without repugnance, in our family.
Since this, my son is become a widower, and is now travelling. Many
years have passed since I have heard any thing of him; I have
therefore now set out with a view to gain some information; and as I
did not like to trust my wife to the care of any one during my
search, I thought proper to carry her along with me. This is the
history of myself and this hind; can any thing be more wonderful?”
--“I agree with you,” said the Genius, “and in consequence I
grant a third of my pardon to this merchant.”
“As soon as the first old man, Sire, had finished his history,”
continued the sultana, “the second, who led the two black dogs,
said to the Genius, “I will relate to you what has happened to me
and these two dogs which you see, and I am sure you will find my
history still more astonishing than that which you have heard. But
when I have told it, will you grant to this merchant another third
of his pardon?--“Yes,” answered the Genius, “provided your
history surpasses that of the hind.” This being settled, the
second old man began.”
THE HISTORY
OF THE SECOND OLD MAN AND THE TWO BLACK DOGS.
Great Prince of the Genii, you must know, that these two black dogs,
which you see here, and myself, are three brothers. Our father left
us, when he died, one thousand sequins each. With this sum we all
embarked in the same profession; namely, as merchants. Soon after we
had opened our warehouse, my eldest brother, who is now one of these
dogs, resolved to travel, and carry on his business in foreign
countries. With this view he sold all his goods, and bought such
other sorts of merchandize as were adapted to the different
countries he proposed visiting.
He set out, and was absent a whole year. At the end of this time, a
poor man who seemed to me to be asking charity, presented himself at
my warehouse, “God help you,” said I.--“And you also,”
answered he: “is it possible you do not know me?”--On looking
attentively at him, I recognized his person, “Ah, my brother,” I
cried, embracing him, “how should I possibly know you in this
state?” I made him come in directly, and enquired both after his
health and the success of his voyage.--“Do not ask me,” he
replied; “in beholding me you see the whole. To enter into a
detail of all the misfortunes that I have suffered in the last year,
and which have reduced me to the state you see, would only be to
renew my affliction.”
I instantly shut up my shop, and neglecting everything else, I took
him to the bath, and dressed him in the best apparel my wardrobe
afforded. I examined the state of my business, and finding, by my
accounts, that I had just doubled my capital, that is, that I was
now worth two thousand sequins, I presented him with the half.
“Let this, my brother,” I said, “make you forget your
losses.” He joyfully accepted the thousand sequins; again settled
his affairs; and we lived together as before.
Some time after this, my second brother, which is the other of these
black dogs, wished also to dispose of his property. Both his elder
brother and myself tried every thing in our power to dissuade him
from it, but in vain. He sold all, and with the money he bought such
merchandize as he wished for his journey. He took his departure, and
joined a caravan. At the end of a year he also returned in the same
condition as his brother did. I furnished him with clothes; and as I
had gained another thousand sequins, I gave them to him. He directly
bought a shop, and continued to exercise his business.
One day both my brothers came to me, and proposed that I should make
a voyage with them, for the purpose of traffic. “You have
travelled,” said I, rejecting at first their scheme, “and what
have you gained? Who will insure, that I shall be more fortunate
than you?” In vain did they use every argument they thought could
induce me to try my fortune. I still refused to consent to their
design. They returned, however, so often to the subject, that, after
having withstood their solicitations for five years, I at length
yielded.
When it became necessary to prepare for the voyage, and we were
consulting on the sort of merchandize to be bought, I discovered
that they had consumed their capital and that nothing remained of
the thousand sequins I had given to each. I did not, however,
reproach them: on the contrary, as my capital was increased to six
thousand sequins, I divided the half with them, and said, “We
must, my brothers, risk only three thousand sequins, and endeavour
to conceal the other in some secure place; that if our voyage be not
more successful than those you have already made, we shall, with
this sum, be able to console ourselves and begin our former
profession. I will give one thousand sequins to each, and keep one
myself; and I will conceal the other three thousand in a corner of
my house.” We purchased our goods; embarked in a vessel, which we
ourselves freighted; and set sail with a favourable wind. After
sailing about a month, we arrived, without any accident, at a port,
where we landed, and had a most advantageous sale for our
merchandize. I, in particular, sold mine so well, that I gained ten
for one. We then purchased the produce of that country, in order to
traffic with it in our own.
About the time that we were ready to embark on our return, I
accidentally met on the sea-shore a female, of a very fine figure,
but poorly dressed. She accosted me by kissing my hand, and
entreated me most earnestly to permit her to go with me, and take
her for my wife. I started many difficulties to such a plan; but at
length she said so much to persuade me that I ought not to regard
her poverty, and that I should be well satisfied with her conduct, I
was quite overcome. I directly procured proper dresses for her, and
after marrying her in due form, she embarked with me, and we set
sail.
During our voyage, I found my wife possessed of so many good
qualities, that I loved her every day more and more. In the meantime
my two brothers, who had not traded so advantageously as myself, and
who were jealous of my prosperity, began to feel exceedingly
envious. They even went so far as to conspire against my life; for
one night, while my wife and I were asleep, they threw us into the
sea.
My wife proved to be a fairy, consequently possessed of supernatural
power; you may therefore imagine she was not hurt. As for myself, I
should certainly have perished without her aid. I had hardly,
however, fallen into the water before she took me up, and
transported me into an island. As soon as it was day the fairy thus
addressed me: “You may observe, my husband, that in saving your
life, I have not ill rewarded the good you have done me. You must
know, that I am a fairy, and being upon the shore when you were
about to sail, I felt a great inclination for you. I wished to try
the goodness of your heart, and for this purpose I presented myself
before you in the disguise you saw. You acted most generously; and I
am therefore delighted in finding an occasion of shewing my
gratitude: but I am enraged against your brothers, nor shall I be
satisfied till I have taken their lives.”
I listened with astonishment to the discourse of the fairy, and
thanked her, as well as I was able, for the great obligation she had
conferred on me: “But madam,” said I to her, “I must entreat
you to pardon my brothers; for although I have the greatest reason
to complain of their conduct, yet I am not so cruel as to wish their
ruin.” I related to her what I had done for each of them, and my
account only increased her anger. “I must instantly fly after
these ungrateful wretches,” cried she, “and bring them to a just
punishment; I will sink their vessel, and precipitate them to the
bottom of the sea.”--“No, beautiful lady,” replied I, “for
Heaven’s sake moderate your indignation, and do not execute so
dreadful an intention; remember they are still my brothers, and that
we are bound to return good for evil.”
I appeased the fairy by these words; and no sooner had I pronounced
them, than she transported me in an instant from the island where we
were, to the top of my own house, which was terraced, and then
disappeared. I descended, opened the doors, and dug up the three
thousand sequins which I had hidden. I afterwards repaired to my
shop, opened it, and received the congratulations of the merchants
in the neighbourhood on my arrival. When I returned home I perceived
these two black dogs, which came towards me with a submissive air. I
could not imagine what this meant, but the fairy, who soon appeared,
satisfied my curiosity. “My dear husband,” said she, “be not
surprised at seeing these two dogs in your house; they are your
brothers.” My blood ran cold on hearing this, and I enquired by
what power they had been transformed into that state. “It is I,”
replied the fairy, “who have done it; at least it is one of my
sisters, to whom I gave the commission, and she has also sunk their
ship; you will lose the merchandize it contained, but I shall
recompense you in some other way; as to your brothers, I have
condemned them to remain under this form for ten years, as a
punishment for their perfidy.” Then informing me where I might
hear of her, she disappeared.
The ten years are now completed, and I am travelling in search of
her. As I was passing this way I met this merchant, and the good old
man, who is leading his hind, and here I staid. This, O Prince of
the Genii, is my history; does it not appear to you of a most
extraordinary nature?”--“Yes,” replied the Genius. “I
confess it is wonderful, and therefore I remit the second third of
the merchant’s punishment.”
When the second old man had finished his story the third began, by
asking the Genius, as the others had done, if he would forgive the
other third of the merchant’s crime, provided his history
surpassed the other two, in the singularity and uncommonness of its
events: the Genius repeated his former promise.
The third old man, Sire, related his history to the Genius, but as
it has not yet come to my knowledge, I cannot repeat it, but I know
it was so much beyond the others, from the variety of wonderful
adventures it contained, that the Genius was astonished. He had no
sooner heard the conclusion than he said, “I grant you the
remaining third part of the merchant’s pardon; and he ought to be
infinitely obliged to you all for having freed him from his
dangerous situation by the relation of your adventures; for without
your aid he would not now have been in this world.” Having said
this, he disappeared, to the great joy of the whole party.
The merchant did not omit to bestow many thanks upon his liberators.
They rejoiced with him at being out of danger, and then bidding him
adieu, each went his several way. The merchant returned home to his
wife and children, and spent the remainder of his days with them in
tranquillity. But, Sire,” added Scheherazadè, “however
beautiful those tales, which I have related to your majesty, may be,
they are not equal to that of the fisherman.” Dinarzadè,
observing that the sultan made no answer, said, “Since there is
still some time, my sister, pray recount his history; the sultan, I
hope, will not object to it.” Schahriar consented to it, and
Scheherazadè went on as follows.
THE HISTORY
OF THE FISHERMAN.
There was formerly, Sire, a very old fisherman, who was so poor,
that he could barely obtain food for himself, his wife, and three
children, of which his family consisted. He went out very early
every morning to his employment; and he made it an absolute rule
that he would throw his nets only four times a day.
One morning he set out before the moon had disappeared: when he had
got to the sea-shore, he undressed himself, and threw his nets. In
drawing them to land he perceived a considerable resistance; and
began to imagine he should have an excellent haul; at which he was
much pleased. But the moment after, finding that instead of fish he
had got the body of an ass in his nets, he was much vexed and
afflicted at having had so bad a draught. When he had mended his
nets, which the weight of the ass had torn in many places, he threw
them a second time. He again found considerable resistance in
drawing them up, and again he thought they were filled with fish;
how great was his disappointment, in discovering only a large
pannier or basket, filled with sand and mud. “O fortune!” he
exclaimed, in the greatest affliction, and with a melancholy voice,
“cease to be enraged against me. Persecute not an unfortunate
being, who thus supplicates thee to spare him. I came from home to
seek after life, and you announce my death. I have no other trade,
by which I can subsist, and even with all my care, I can hardly
supply the most pressing wants of my family; but I am wrong to
complain of thee, who takest a pleasure in abusing the virtuous, and
leaving great men in obscurity, while thou favorest the wicked, and
exaltest those who possess no virtue to recommend them.”
Having thus vented his complaints, he angrily threw aside the
pannier, and washing his nets from the mud, he threw them a third
time. He brought up only stones, shells, and filth. It is impossible
to describe his despair, which almost deprived him of his senses.
The day now began to break, and like a good mussulman, he did not
neglect his prayers, to which he added the following: “Thou
knowest, O Lord, that I throw my nets only four times a day; three
times have I cast them into the sea, without any profit for my
labour. Once more alone remains; and I entreat thee to render the
sea favourable, as thou formerly didst to Moses.”
When the fisherman had finished this prayer, he threw his nets for
the fourth time. Again he supposed he had caught a great quantity of
fish, as he drew them with as much difficulty as before. He
nevertheless found none; but discovered a vase of yellow copper,
which seemed, from its weight, to be filled with something; and he
observed that it was shut up and fastened with lead, on which there
was the impression of a seal. “I will sell this to a founder,”
said he with joy, “and with the money I shall get for it, I will
purchase a measure of corn.”
He had examined the vase on all sides; he shook it, in order to
discover whether its contents would rattle. He could hear nothing;
and this, together with the impression of the seal on the lead, made
him think it was filled with something valuable. In order to find
this out, he took his knife, and got it open without much
difficulty. He directly turned the top downwards, and was much
surprised to find nothing come out: he set it down before him, and
while he was attentively observing it, there issued from it so thick
a smoke, that he was obliged to step back a few paces. This smoke,
by degrees, rose almost to the clouds, and spread itself over both
the water and the shore, appearing like a thick fog. The fisherman,
as may easily be imagined, was a good deal surprised at this sight.
When the smoke had all come out from the vase, it again collected
itself, and became a solid body, and then took the shape of a
Genius, twice as large as any of the giants. At the appearance of so
enormous a monster, the fisherman wished to run away, but his fears
were so great, he was unable to move.
“Solomon, Solomon,” cried the Genius, “great prophet of God,
pardon, I pray. I will never more oppose your will; but will obey
all your commands.”
The fisherman, Sire, had no sooner heard these words spoken by the
Genius, than he regained his courage, and said, “Proud spirit,
what is this you say? Solomon the prophet of the most High has been
dead more than eighteen hundred years. Inform me, I pray, of your
history, and on what account you were shut up in this vase?”
To this speech the Genius, looking disdainfully at the fisherman,
answered, “Speak more civilly; thou art very bold to call me a
proud spirit.”--“Perhaps then,” returned the fisherman, “it
will be more civil to call you an owl of good luck.”--“I tell
thee,” said the Genius, “speak to me more civilly, before I kill
thee.”--“And for what reason, pray, will you kill me?”
answered the fisherman, “Have you already forgotten, that I have
set you at liberty?”--“I remember it very well,” returned he,
“but that shall not prevent my destroying thee, and I will only
grant thee one favour.”--“And pray what is that?” said the
fisherman.--“It is,” replied the Genius, “to permit thee to
choose the manner of thy death.”--“But in what” added the
other, “have I offended you? Is it thus you wish to recompense me
for the good I have done you?”--“I can treat thee no
otherwise,” said the Genius, “and, to convince thee of it,
attend to my history.
“I am one of those spirits who rebelled against the sovereignty of
God. All the other Genii acknowledged the great Solomon, the prophet
of God, and submitted to him. Sacar and myself were the only ones
who were above humbling ourselves. In order to revenge himself, this
powerful monarch charged Assaf, the son of Barakhia, his first
minister, to come and seize me. This was done; and Assaf took and
brought me, in spite of myself, before the throne of the king, his
master.
“Solomon, the son of David, commanded me to quit my mode of life,
acknowledge his authority, and submit to his laws. I haughtily
refused to obey him; and rather exposed myself to his resentment,
than take the oath of fidelity and submission, which he required of
me. In order, therefore, to punish me, he enclosed me in this copper
vase; and to prevent my forcing my way out, he put upon the leaden
cover the impression of his seal, on which the great name of God is
engraven. This done, he gave the vase to one of those Genii who
obeyed him, and ordered him to throw me into the sea; which, to my
great sorrow, was performed directly.
“During the first period of my captivity, I swore, that if any one
delivered me before the first hundred years were passed, I would
make him rich even after his death. The time elapsed, and no one
assisted me: during the second century I swore, that if any released
me, I would discover to him all the treasures of the earth; still I
was not more fortunate. During the third, I promised to make my
deliverer a most powerful monarch, to be always hovering near him,
and to grant him every day any three requests he chose. This age
too, like the former, passed away, and I remained in the same
situation. Enraged, at last, to be so long a prisoner, I swore, that
I would without mercy kill whoever should in future release me, and
the only favour I would grant him, should be to choose what manner
of death he pleased. Since, therefore, thou hast come here to-day,
and hast delivered me, fix upon whatever kind of death thou wilt.”
The fisherman was much afflicted at this speech. “How
unfortunate,” he exclaimed, “am I, to come here and render so
great a service to such an ungrateful object! Consider, I entreat
you, of your injustice; and revoke so unreasonable an oath. Pardon
me, and God will in like manner pardon you. If you generously suffer
me to live, he will defend you from all attempts that may be made
against your life.”--“No,” answered the Genius, “thy death
is sure; determine only how I shall kill thee.”--The fisherman
was in great distress, and finding him thus resolved on his death,
not so much on his own account as on that of his three children,
whose wretched state they greatly deplored, when they would be
reduced by his death. He still endeavoured to appease the Genius.
“Alas!” he cried, “have pity on me, in consideration of what I
have done for you.”--“I have already told thee,” replied the
Genius, “that it is for that very reason that I am obliged to take
thy life.”--“It is very strange,” added the fisherman,
“that you are determined to return evil for good. The proverb
says, that he who does good to him that does not deserve it, is
always ill rewarded. I did think, I own, that it was false, because
nothing is more contrary to reason, and the rights of society: yet I
cruelly find it too true.”--“Let us lose no time,” cried the
Genius, “your arguments will not alter my resolution. Make haste,
and tell me how you wish to die.”
Necessity is the spur to invention; and the fisherman thought of a
stratagem. “Since then,” said he, “I cannot escape death, I
submit to the will of God; but before I choose the sort of death, I
conjure you, by the great name of God, which is graven upon the seal
of the prophet Solomon, the son of David, answer me truly to a
question I am going to put to you.” When the Genius found that he
should be compelled to answer positively, he trembled, and said to
the fisherman, “Ask what thou wilt, and make haste.”
The Genius had no sooner promised to speak the truth, than the
fisherman said to him, “I wish to know whether you really were in
that vase; dare you swear it by the great name of God?”
--“Yes,” answered the Genius, “I do swear by the great name of
God, that I most certainly was.”--“In truth,” replied the
fisherman, “I cannot believe you. This vase cannot contain one of
your feet; how then can it hold your whole body?”--“I swear to
thee, notwithstanding,” replied he, “that I was there just as
thou seest me. Wilt thou not believe me after the solemn oath I have
taken?”--“No truly,” added the fisherman, “I shall not
believe you, unless I were to see it.”
Immediately the form of the Genius began to change into smoke, and
extended itself as before over both the shore and the sea; and then,
collecting itself, began to enter the vase, and continued to do so
in a slow and equal manner, till nothing remained without. A voice
immediately issued forth, saying, “Now then, thou credulous
fisherman, dost thou believe me now I am in the vase?” But instead
of answering the Genius, he immediately took the leaden cover, and
put it on the vase. “Genius,” he cried, “it is now your turn
to ask pardon, and choose what sort of death is most agreeable to
you. But no, it is better that I should throw you again into the
sea, and I will build on the very spot where you are cast, a house
upon the shore, in which I will live, to warn all fishermen that
shall come and throw their nets, not to fish up so wicked a Genius
as you are, who make an oath to kill him who shall set you at
liberty.”
At this offensive speech the enraged Genius tried every method to
get out of the vase, but in vain; for the impression of the seal of
Solomon, the prophet, the Son of David, prevented him. Knowing,
then, that the fisherman had the advantage over him, he began to
conceal his rage. “Take care,” said he, in a softened tone,
“what you are about, fisherman. Whatever I did was merely in joke,
and you ought not to take it seriously.”--“O Genius,”
answered the fisherman, “you, who were a moment ago the greatest
of all the Genii, are now the most insignificant; and do not suppose
that your flattering speeches will be of any use to you. You shall
assurely return to the sea: and if you passed all the time there you
said, you may as well remain till the day of judgment. I entreated
you in the name of God not to take my life, and you rejected my
prayers; I ought to reject yours likewise.
The Genius tried every argument to move the fisherman’s pity, but
in vain. “I conjure you to open the vase,” said be; “if you
give me my liberty again, you shall have reason to be satisfied with
my gratitude.”--“You are too treacherous for me to trust
you,” returned the fisherman: “I should deserve to lose my life,
if I had the imprudence to put it in your power a second time. You
would most likely treat me as a Greek king treated Douban, the
physician. Listen, and I will tell you the story.
THE HISTORY
OF THE GREEK KING AND DOUBAN THE PHYSICIAN.
In the country of Zouman, in Persia, there lived a king, whose
subjects were originally Greeks. This king was sorely afflicted with
a leprosy, and his physicians had unsuccessfully tried every remedy
they were acquainted with, when a very ingenious physician, called
Douban, arrived at the court.
He had acquired his profound learning by studying different authors
in the Greek, Latin, Persian, Arabic, Turkish, Syriac, and Hebrew
languages; and besides having a consummate knowledge of philosophy,
he was also well acquainted with the good and bad properties of all
kinds of plants and drugs.
As soon as he was informed of the king’s illness, and that the
physicians had given him up, he dressed himself as neatly as
possible, and obtained permission to be presented to the king.
“Sire,” said he, “I know that all the physicians who have
attended your majesty, have been unable to remove your leprosy; but,
if you will do me the honour to accept of my services, I will engage
to cure you without either internal or topical applications.” The
king, pleased with this proposition, replied, “If you are really
so skilful as you pretend, I promise to confer affluence on you and
your posterity; and without reckoning the presents you will have,
you shall be my first favourite; but do you assure me then, that you
will remove my leprosy without making me swallow any potion or
applying any remedy externally?”--“Yes, Sire,” replied the
physician, “I flatter myself I shall succeed, with the help of
God; and to-morrow I will begin my operations.”
Douban returned to his house, and made a sort of racket or bat, with
a hollow in the handle to admit the drug he meant to use; that being
done, he also prepared a sort of round ball, or bowl, in the manner
he intended, and the following day he presented himself before the
king, and prostrating himself at his feet, kissed the ground.
Douban then arose, and having made a profound reverence, told the
king that he must ride on horseback to the place where he was
accustomed to play at bowls. The king did as he was desired, and
when he had reached the bowling-green, the physician approached him,
and putting into his hand the bat which he had prepared, “Sire,”
said he, “exercise yourself with striking that bowl about with
this bat, till you find yourself in a profuse perspiration. When the
remedy I have enclosed in its handle is warmed by your hand, it will
penetrate through your whole body; you may then leave off, for the
drug will have taken effect; and when you return to your palace get
into a warm bath, and be well rubbed and washed, then go to bed, and
to-morrow you will be quite cured.
The king took the bat, and spurred his horse after the bowl till he
struck it; it was sent back again to him by the officers who were
playing with him, and he struck it again; and thus the game
continued for a considerable time, till he found his hand as well as
his whole body in a perspiration, which made the remedy in the bat
operate as the physician had said; the king then left the game,
returned to the palace, bathed, and observed very punctually all the
directions that had been given him.
He soon found the good effects of the prescription; for when he
arose the next morning, he perceived, with equal surprise and joy,
that his leprosy was entirely cured, and that his body was as clear
as if he had never been attacked by that malady. As soon as he was
dressed, he went into the audience-room, where he mounted his throne
and received the congratulations of all his courtiers who had
assembled on that day, partly to gratify their curiosity and partly
to testify their joy.
Douban entered, and went to prostrate himself at the foot of the
throne, with his face towards the ground. The king seeing him,
called to him, and made him sit by his side; and shewing him to the
assembly, gave him in that public way all the praise he so well
deserved; nay, he did not stop here, for there being a grand
entertainment at court on that day, he placed him at his own table
to dine only with him.
The Greek king, (proceeded the fisherman,) was not satisfied with
admitting the physician to his own table; towards evening, when the
courtiers were about to depart, he put him on a long rich robe
resembling that which the courtiers usually wore in his presence,
and in addition, made him a present of two thousand sequins. The
following days he did nothing but caress him; in short, this prince,
thinking he could never repay the obligations he owed to so skilful
a physician, was continually conferring on him some fresh proof of
his gratitude.