turning on the altar. Curious to know how it was contrived, he went
towards it; but passing an open door which he perceived on his left,
and which seemed to be the entrance to a magnificent burial vault, he
drew near it. On both sides of the door stood two giants carved in
black stone, with drawn swords in their hands. Just as he was going to
enter, they dropped their swords crosswise before the entrance, and
would undoubtedly have cut him to pieces, had he not started back
immediately. He paused a moment in astonishment, but soon became
himself. He saw that the giants again raised their swords, and that
all was done by skilful mechanism. He, therefore, was careful not to
go straight up to the door, but slipped boldly round one of the giants,
treading on his feet instead of the threshold, and thus by a dexterous
turn found himself suddenly in a curious vault. The knotty walls and
arches were of black granite; here and there blue rays of light fell
through fissures in the rocks, as if from burning saltpetre. In the
centre stood an open silver coffin, in which was the body of a female
stretched out, attired in cloth of silver, and with a crown of diamonds
on her head. One blue ray fell through the ceiling, and illumined her
pale face. Ali shuddered, and was starting back, when at the same
instant he discovered a sparkling serpent moving on the breast of the
corpse, and pointing its sting at her heart. Inspired with a pious
veneration for the dead now before him, and indignant that a creeping
vermin should desecrate an embalmed body, Ali, without hesitation, and
forgetful of his own danger, hastened near, and seized the serpent by
the head to fling it away. But what was his astonishment at perceiving
that what he held in his hand was a talisman composed of precious
stones! He had no sooner removed it than the corpse sighed deeply,
opened her eyes, extended her arms, and rose in the coffin. She looked
around and contemplated Ah, who stood there amazed, with the talisman
in his hand. With her fore-finger on her lips, she seemed collecting
her thoughts; then stepped from the coffin and approached Ali, with the
splendid crown on her head, whilst the silver train of her dress swept
the ground. Ali, shuddering, exclaimed: “Praised be Allah, the most
merciful being!”
“Praised be Allah!” she repeated.
When Ali heard her utter the name of Allah, he took courage, and his
confidence increased when he saw the living red return to her cheeks.
She dropped the stiff silver robe to the ground, and now stood before
him in an azure garment, over which fell a gauze wrought with silver
stars; but she still retained the crown of diamonds. She now walked
back to the coffin to take the emerald sceptre that had laid at her
side, and as she seized it she exclaimed: “Now I have regained the
power I lost; thanks be to Ali’s courage, which has disenchanted me!”
Ali knelt down; he knew from Gulhyndi’s description that she was the
beautiful fairy who had once appeared to his beloved in a dream, who
had often comforted her, and of whom they had heard nothing of late.
“You see the cause of my not having appeared to Gulhyndi,” said the
gracious _Peribanu_, who guessed his thoughts; “I am still your mutual
friend. Follow me to the mosque; a few words will disclose all the
past.”
Thus saying, she took his hand and led him to the splendid vault, sat
down upon a couch at some distance from the radiating globe, and said
as follows: “I am a good fairy, and have been living for some time at
enmity with the wicked Zelulu. Being once inflamed with love for me,
he solicited my hand, and on my treating him with contempt, he has ever
since entertained a violent hatred towards me. As he was not able to
vent it on me, he has wreaked his vengeance on many innocent persons.
This inveterate hatred towards them proceeds from his belief that they
do not really possess any good qualities. He thinks that their
inclinations deserve nothing better than to be disappointed, and he has
repeatedly told me, that he has no more compassion for a fallen man,
than for the insect that flies of its own accord into the flame, and
burns its wings.
“When I once met him in a windy moonlight night, in a desert of Upper
Asia, I cried to him as I passed, ‘Zelulu, have pity on poor humanity.’
“‘Peribanu,’ he replied, ‘you have none on me, and why should I have
any on wretched mortals?’
“‘Love cannot be forced,’ said I, ‘but reason rules every thing, and
ought to rule you. Do you not tremble at the vengeance of the judge?’
“‘Teach me to esteem them,’ he exclaimed, ‘and I will cease to
persecute them.’
“Some time after that he came to me in a friendly manner, saying,
‘Peribanu, allow me to present you with a magnificent ornament for the
bosom. I shall consider your acceptance of it the only way of
compensating for the contempt you have expressed.’
“I was imprudent enough to accept this beautiful serpent of precious
stones, which you now hold in your hand, and placed it on my bosom. I
had scarcely done so when I fell into a death-like trance. In this
state Zelulu’s slaves brought me into this vault, where I should have
continued for centuries without hope of deliverance, had not Heaven,
through you, rescued me. Thus the wicked Zelulu exercised his power
over me without any resistance. He came to me every night, asking me
whether I would love him; for the charm was so contrived that it
deprived me of the exercise of my power and of motion, without
depriving me of consciousness. I have always answered his
importunities with a loud and distinct ‘No!’ so that he was obliged to
depart without hope.”
The fairy now took Ali by the hand, and led him out of the mosque,
through a long corridor, into the apartment of white marble. She
touched his eyelids with her sceptre, and drew aside the curtain. What
was his astonishment when, instead of his Gulhyndi, he saw an image of
wax, which had but an imperfect resemblance to his beloved! The figure
stared at him with dull, glassy eyes, like a painted corpse. He could
not conceive how it was possible to have mistaken this horrible pale
lump for his Gulhyndi. Peribanu struck the wax figure with her
sceptre, it broke, and a hideous knot of poisonous serpents rolled from
its bowels, and fled into the clefts of the rocks for fear of her wand.
Ali cast his eyes on the two metal lions which stood on either side of
the couch, and saw in amazement that they were living. They wagged
their tails, and stared with fiery eyes at him. “Flee,” cried the
fairy, raising her wand, and they fled quickly, like obedient dogs.
“Go home to your father,” said the good fairy, “do all he commands you,
and this shall be the means of your happiness. You will see Gulhyndi
again.”
With these words she led him up the steps to an aperture, saying, “Go,
you will find yourself in a well-known spot, not far from your native
city. Remember what I have told you, and forget me not.”
Saying this, she vanished. Ali stepped out, and found himself by the
brink of Ali Haymmamy’s fountain. It was a fine morning, and the
rising sun cast his rays upon him. He stood for a moment and looked
down into the depth, scarcely knowing whether what he had passed
through was a dream or reality: he remarked at the same time that he
still had the talisman in his hand. He was careful not to bring it
near his bosom; but kept it as a sign of the past singular events, and
wrapped it in the folds of his turban. Now he set out on his way with
a heart joyful and full of hope, and before noon he arrived at his
father’s at Bagdad.
The following morning Ibrahim said to Ali, “I am rejoiced, my son, that
you have begun to compose yourself. There is no better remedy against
melancholy thoughts than amusement. I intend taking a journey to
Samarcand in a few days, and doubt not that it will be very
advantageous to us. I have already received my goods from a port on
the Red Sea, and expect to barter them profitably for the precious
things of Upper Asia. My advantage is yours; therefore go too, it will
cheer you and assist me.”
Ali, recollecting what the fairy had told him, looked upon his father’s
proposal as a presage of his happiness; and soon Ibrahim and his son
departed from Bagdad, with a large number of slaves and heavily laden
camels. Not far from the city they fell in with another caravan, and
now hastened, as quickly as circumstances permitted, through many
remarkable countries and cities of the far-famed Samarcand.
During their journey they were often obliged to cross deserts and
trackless steppes, where Ibrahim, never having made this journey
before, trusted himself to a guide. After having thus travelled for
several months, and stopped at different places, they one evening
passed through a desert. The guide, a little deformed man, with a red
nose, assured them that this would be the last, and promised that
within three days they would reach their destination.
As they now passed through a narrow valley, bounded on either side by
lofty rocks, and thickly overgrown with pine trees, a most terrible
phenomenon presented itself, that dispersed the whole caravan. A
thunder-storm came on, and the lightning struck a mighty cedar, the
resinous bark of which immediately ignited. The whole tree was
instantly in a blaze, and the crackling fire spread on every side; all
the pine, fir, larch, and cedar trees were in one blaze. The lurid
tongues of the flames rushed fearfully along the mountain ridge in the
dark night. A thick smoke arose and darkened the air beyond. In the
universal confusion, where each only thought of saving himself, Ibrahim
lost sight of his son. Ali anxiously searched for his father but
without success. Throughout the awful night he rode about on his camel
until it would no longer carry him. Terrified at the fire, it at
length threw him off and rushed into the flames. Ali forced his way
boldly through a narrow pass in the rocks, which the fire had not yet
reached. Having passed through it, he saw before him a large valley
and a wood beyond. He rallied his last energies to reach it, and sank
down exhausted near a tree, where, by the light of the burning forest,
he saw that the fire was not likely to penetrate so far; more, his
failing strength did not permit him to observe, and weariness closed
his eyes.
When he awoke, his first thought was of his father. He felt refreshed
by a short sleep, and hastened onward. The country, although it was
autumn, was blooming as though it were spring; nature had not purchased
her fruits with her blossoms, but fruit and blossoms glowed side by
side in sisterly concord. He had never seen such green fresh turf, nor
such a variety of flowers. Straight before him opened a beautiful
grove, with splendid orange and date trees, where he sat down and took
refreshment in the cool solitude. As he sat buried in thought, he
heard a voice call, “Ali! Ali!” Astonished, he looked round but saw
no one. Thinking he had been mistaken, he continued eating his repast
quietly. Suddenly the voice again cried directly opposite to him,
“Ali! Ali!” and the name was repeated in several places. He now
discovered a quantity of beautiful parrots flying about, which looked
at him, and repeated with complacency his name. “Who has taught them
this?” said Ali, to himself, and a sweet glow darted through his veins.
The parrots still repeated, “Ali! Ali! Come! Come!” and fluttered
from bough to bough. He followed them, and found himself at length
before a thick hedge that was impenetrable. The birds flew over it,
perched within it, and again cried, “Ali! Ali!” He now looked for an
entrance, and finding one, at last entered, and saw a splendid lawn,
enclosed by a semicircular hedge, both ends of which terminated by a
rocky wall. In the centre of the turf was a flowerbed, whither one of
the birds flew, again repeating his name. Looking at the plants, he
discovered they were all arranged in letters;--great was his delight
when he found an A. and G. beautifully entwined, and he no longer
doubted where he was. He discovered the beautiful grotto, and hastened
to it, exclaiming, “My Gulhyndi, where art thou?” To these words a
sweet voice replied:
“Ali, dear Ali! where canst thou be?
Oft thy Gulhyndi weeps for thee.”
“What is that? It is not her voice, it is not the voice of birds.”
“My Ali! My beloved friend! thy Gulhyndi often weeps for thee,” said a
pert starling, hopping about on the ground and picking up some seeds.
“Ali! Ali!” cried the parrots, without.
“Ali! Ali! my beloved friend! Gulhyndi often weeps for thee,” said
the starling, stretching out her neck, bending not, and looking at him
shrewdly.
Now a fine bird, in a golden cage, began to whistle a melody which Ali
had taught Gulhyndi shortly before they parted. “Oh, she loves me!” he
cried. “She is here! She has taught these feathered songsters my name
and my songs. How many times must her lips have repeated these words
before these birds knew them.” At this moment he heard some one
approaching; “It is she!” he said to himself, “but she must not see me
yet--I must prolong this blessed moment.” With his staff he traced the
following lines in the sand:
“Lovely Gulhyndi, sorrow no more,
What hate has taken, love will restore;
The sun is more bright when the storm is o’er.”
He had scarcely done this than the fair Gulhyndi, like a lovely queen
of nature, appeared with her numerous train. As a proud body guard,
there stepped before, with majestic step, two large bay coloured lions,
with thick manes. By her side walked the beautiful Argus, as a
faithful friend; while the most lovely birds fluttered, and the most
lovely beasts of the forest gamboled around her. The train was closed
by a troop of snow-white lambs with red ribbons round their necks, each
having a singing-bird on its head, chirping, while the lambs bleated.
Last of all came a stag, whose large antlers were hung with bells; so
that the bleating of lambs, the singing of birds, and the bells of the
stag were not unlike a merry band of Turkish music.
When they arrived at the grotto, the two lions lay down on either side
of the entrance, and Gulhyndi, with her Argus, entered. All the rest
remained without, forming a semicircle, while Gulhyndi took her repast.
Two monkeys stood behind her couch, officiating as servants, and
offering her fruit, and water from the fountain. Argus stood by her
side, and, with his beak, caught in the air all the fragments which she
flung to him with her white hand. All that he missed, so that it fell
to the ground, the little starling snapped up before Argus had time to
stoop after it.
When the repast was over, Argus went to the entrance, spread his
shining fan, and turned it several times, upon which the assembled
courtiers without dispersed. Only the lions remained at their post,
and Argus remained in the grotto with her mistress, as lady in waiting.
Ali trembled with emotion when he beheld Gulhyndi, her fair hair
flowing in long tresses. She wore a green silk robe, fastened with a
purple girdle, without any other ornament. She appeared taller, more
blooming and majestic; she was no longer the languishing, pensive,
Oriental beauty sighing for liberty, but the healthy, sprightly
daughter of Eve, blooming as the fairest flower in nature. Still a
soft desire seemed to depress her arched brow, and indicated that, in
the midst of abundance, she still lacked something.
While she was sitting with her eyes cast downwards, she discovered the
lines traced on the sand. She immediately recognised the characters,
but was doubtful whether she should trust her eyes. What was her
delight when convinced of the truth, by the happy Ali hastening and
throwing himself at her feet! Both now were in Paradise.
When their first transport was over, they related all that had happened
to them since they last met. She told him that once, when she was
alone in the grotto, the two lions had suddenly broken through the
hedge. At this she was at first alarmed, but soon recovered on seeing
that they lay down on either side of the entrance, like obedient dogs,
and followed her as faithful guards. Ali could not suppress an inward
shudder at seeing that they resembled the bronze lions which, at
Peribanu’s command, had become hairy, and left the subterranean
apartment. He now built a hut in the neighbourhood of his Gulhyndi,
without concern for his father, whom he confidently supposed was in the
power of the fairy. But, unfortunately, this poor father had not fared
so well as his happy son wished.
Ibrahim wandered for a long time in that awful night; he hastened to
the opposite side to get clear of the burning wood, instead of
penetrating through it as Ali had done. The ground became so stony and
rugged, that he could no longer ride on his camel. He tied it to a
tree, and endeavoured to make his way on foot through the thick bushes,
in order to reach a high tree, on which he might pass the night without
fear of serpents and wild beasts. As he proceeded, he fell into a
dark, damp, deep pit, where he lay for some time senseless. When he
recovered, he had only a faint recollection of the causes of his
present situation; he had quite forgotten Hussain’s and Gulhyndi’s
death, and fancied he had fled with his son from Bagdad, to escape the
persecutions of the malicious cadi.
He had not remained long in this state before he saw coming through a
narrow rocky path, a little person dressed in black like a miner, with
a lantern in his hand. “Lockman,” cried Ibrahim, who immediately
recognised him, “you here, and in this garb! What does this mean?
Where is my son?”
“You had better be your son’s keeper yourself,” replied Lockman; “I
have nothing to do with him, but I have something to do with you. Up
to work! you are now my slave.”
With these words he seized Ibrahim, exhausted as he was, and led him to
the icy cold bath in the cleft. He then brought him out again, and
gave him bread and water, such as he had given to Hussain; but in his
cup there was no leech, and, on the whole, he treated him less harshly
than the cadi.
When Ibrahim had taken his scanty meal, Lockman said: “Get up and go
with me; it was always your favourite business to seek riches. I will
show you the way to gold and precious stones.”
He then took him to the desert, and commanded him to search. When
Ibrahim was left alone he was much confused, and grieved, but Lockman’s
threats made him obey. Walking about in the burning heat, he passed a
high piece of rock, in the shade of which some grass was growing. He
there beheld a pale, haggard man with sunken cheeks, sitting down,
greatly exhausted. Being naturally compassionate, he quickly ran for a
pitcher of water, which he had taken to the desert to quench his thirst
while working, and which, to keep the water fresh, he had buried in the
sand. This he brought, and put it to the lips of the fainting man.
The poor man drank, was refreshed, folded his hands as he raised his
eyes, and said: “Who art thou, angel from heaven, that assistest me in
my extremity?”
Ibrahim knew the voice, and cried in amazement, “Hussain, is it you?”
Hussain stared at him, saying, as well as exhaustion permitted,
“Ibrahim, are you here? How, have you come into this vale of tears to
comfort your enemy?”
“By some evil fate I have fallen into the hands of mine enemy,” replied
Ibrahim, “who has condemned me to seek gold and precious stones in this
desert.” When he said these words, Hussain put out his hands for the
sack which he had filled that day with much labour; but what was his
terror on finding it half empty! “What is this?” he cried; “have you
come even in the last moments of my life to rob me and expose me to
frightful punishment?”
Ibrahim affirmed that he had taken nothing; he felt compassion for poor
Hussain, and forgot his own trouble.
“You lie, infamous fellow,” cried Hussain; “your bag is full, you have
filled it from mine.”
“I assure you,” replied Ibrahim, “that I have taken nothing, nor have I
ever thought of grieving you, and, as a proof, I will exchange my bag
for yours whenever you wish.” He then offered his own. “Stop here and
rest yourself,” he continued. “I am not yet so tired as to be unable
to try to fill a second bag before evening.” He left him, and with
much pains collected the second half. Hussain did not know what to
think of all this, and both went together to the cavern without
speaking.
“Are your bags full:” cried the monster, who was sitting at the
entrance as they arrived. “Empty them before me.” Ibrahim emptied his
bag first; it was full of gold and precious stones. Hussain came with
the one Ibrahim had given him--and it contained nothing but sand and
pebbles. Lockman looked silently incensed at Hussain, took him by the
arm, and led him, weak and fainting, again to the terrible rushing
shower-bath, where, for want of strength, he would have fallen into the
abyss, had not Lockman seized him and flung him half dead on the sand.
“He is a villain,” said he to Ibrahim, while the other lay fainting.
“I will tell you plainly that he has slandered you to me, and is the
sole cause of my receiving you so harshly. I hate him, for he is not
even fit to do the work of a slave. If you will do me a service I will
restore you to liberty, bring you to your son, and arrange every thing
so that you may again live in Bagdad in your former happy
circumstances.”
“What do you desire?” asked Ibrahim.
“I am a spirit, and cannot dispose arbitrarily of the life of a mortal.
You, on the other hand, have power to destroy each other; take this
knife and thrust it into Hussain’s heart, then I will restore you to
your former happiness, and give you all the gold-dust and precious
stones in my cavern.”
“Far be it from me,” said Ibrahim, “to act thus even to my bitterest
enemy. May God forgive the evil we have done, and for which we are
both now suffering. My hatred is extinguished. I have this day
exchanged my bag for his, with the honest intention of lightening his
burden. That it has turned out so badly is not my fault.”
“Kill him,” cried Lockman, threatening as he reached him the knife, “or
I will throw you a hundred fathoms deep into the abyss, among serpents
and adders!”
“Throw me,” cried Ibrahim, with firmness, clasping his hands, and
raising his eyes to the stars.
“You have regained courage,” said Lockman, scoffing.
“Misfortune inspires that,” replied Ibrahim.
“Daring man,” cried Lockman, “you are not yet ripe, I will chastise you
slowly.” So saying he left him.
“Poor Hussain!” sighed Ibrahim as he looked on the pale man. Hussain
opened his eyes, gave a friendly smile, and extended his hand to him,
saying,
“I heard what passed between you and the sorcerer; whose wicked design
has ill succeeded. What was to separate us has united us. I now know
you; can you forgive me?”
Ibrahim embracing him said, “Will you again be my friend?”
“For life and death,” said Hussain, returning the embrace of his former
enemy. They knelt down, and Mahommed’s holy moon shone on their
reconciliation, which was sealed by a kiss, as she cast her pale gleam
over the desert, and the faint reflection from the sand was increased,
as if rejoicing that from the desert of affliction a flower had sprung,
which the Eden of a life of luxury could not produce.
Lockman returned, looked at the reconciled friends, and burst into a
hideous laugh. “I suppose you now fancy yourselves happy, and that you
have gained peace of mind,” he said; “do not think it. Hussain is lost
for ever. Allah has turned his eyes from him for endeavouring to
shorten the days of his child and his own. He is mine for ever!”
“None possesses that eternal power but Allah,” cried Hussain, who had
now recovered. “Having saved my life, you have, against your will,
assisted my salvation. As long as there is life there is hope; as long
as man lives he may become better.”
“You have killed your daughter,” said Lockman; “you have spilled her
blood, you are an infanticide!”
Hussain turned pale.
“She lives,” cried a sweet voice from on high, “take courage and hope.”
“Ah! is _she_ released from her sleep of death?” exclaimed Lockman in
consternation, and vanished.
From this time Ibrahim and Hussain were faithful friends, they shared
their troubles, and found consolation in each other’s society. It was
no longer difficult to discover gold and precious stones in the desert;
they had only to go out and search, and immediately found what they
wished. During this time the sun was shaded, and a light breeze was
blowing; they at last discovered recesses in the rocks for shade,
flowers, and springs. When Lockman perceived this he took them into
the mines, where he forced them to laborious employment. But even here
their fortune attended them. They learned of themselves to cut the ore
which they easily found. In this familiar intercourse with quiet,
sublime nature, their hearts opened, their minds became elevated, and
their bodies strengthened. They no longer loved wealth and vanity, but
God, the wonderful works of nature, and each other. Lockman had no
further power to molest them.