transported with anger, and giving way to his passion, Madam, said he to
the princess, those perfidious wretches who cause you to shed these
tears, and are the occasion of the mortal grief which oppresses their
father, shall soon feel the punishment due to their guilt. The king
having spoken these words, with indignation appearing in his countenance,
went directly to the presence-chamber, where all his courtiers attended,
and such of the people as had any petitions to present to him. They were
all astonished to see him in that passion, and thought his anger had been
kindled against his people.
Their hearts failed them for fear. He ascended the throne, and causing
the grand vizier to draw near, said, Hassan, I have some orders for you:
go immediately, take a thousand of my guards, and seize all the princes
my sons; shut them up in the tower appointed for a prison for murderers;
and let this be done in a moment. All that were present quaked at the
hearing of this surprising command; and the grand vizier, without
answering one word, laid his hand on his head, to express his obedience,
and went out of the presence to execute his orders, which were very
surprising to him. In the mean time, the king dismissed those who
attended to desire audience, and declared he would not despatch any
business for a month to come. He was still in the presence-chamber, when
the vizier returned. Are all my sons, said that prince, in the tower?
They are, sir, answered the vizier; I have obeyed your orders. This is
not all, replied the king, I have farther commands for you; and so
saying, he went out of the presence-chamber, and returned to Pirouze’s
apartment, with the vizier following him. He asked that princess where
Codadad’s widow had taken up her lodging. Pirouze’s women told him; for
the surgeon had not forgot that in his relation. Then the king, turning
to his minister, Go, said he, to that caravansary, and bring a young
princess, who lodges there; but treat her with all the respect due to her
quality.
The vizier was not backward in performing what he was ordered. He mounted
on horseback, with all the emirs and courtiers, and repaired to the
caravansary where the princess of Deryabar was, whom he acquainted with
his orders, and presented her, from the king, a fine white mule, whose
saddle and bridle were adorned with gold, rubies, and diamonds. She
mounted it, and went to the palace, attended by all those great men. The
surgeon bore her company, mounted on a sprightly Tartar horse which the
vizier had provided for him. All the people were at their windows, or in
the streets, to see that noble cavalcade; and it being given out that the
princess, whom they conducted in such state to court, was Codadad’s wife,
the city resounded with acclamations, the air rang with shouts of joy,
which would certainly have been turned into lamentations, had that
prince’s fatal adventure been known; so much was he beloved by all men.
The princess of Deryabar found the king at the palace gate, waiting to
receive her. He took her by the hand, and led her to Pirouze’s apartment,
where a very moving scene was acted among them. Codadad’s wife found her
affliction redouble upon her at the sight of her husband’s father and
mother; as, on the other side, those parents could not look on their
son’s wife without being much concerned. She cast herself at the king’s
feet, and having bathed them with tears, was so overcome with grief, that
she was not able to speak one word. Pirouze was in no better condition;
she seemed to be stunned with her sorrows; and the king, moved by those
dismal objects, gave way to his passion: those three persons, mixing
their tears and sighs, for some time observed a silence, which appeared
extraordinary moving and pitiful. At length the princess of Deryabar,
being somewhat recovered, recounted the adventure of the castle and
Codadad’s disaster. Then she required justice for the treachery of the
princes. Yes, madam, said the king to her, those ungrateful wretches
shall perish, but Codadad’s death must first be made public, that the
punishment of his brothers may not cause my subjects to rebel; and,
though we have not my son’s body, we will not omit paying him the last
duties. This said, he directed his discourse to the vizier, and ordered
him to build a dome of white marble in a delightful plain, in the midst
of which the city of Harran stands; then he appointed the princess of
Deryabar a fine apartment in his palace, acknowledging her for his
daughter-in-law.
Hassan caused the work to be carried on with such diligence, and employed
so many workmen, that the dome was soon finished. Within it was erected a
monument, and on it was placed a figure representing Codadad. As soon as
all was perfected, the king ordered prayers to be said, and appointed a
day for the obsequies of his son.
On that day, all the inhabitants of the city went out upon the plain to
see that ceremony performed; which was after this manner. The king,
attended by his vizier and the prime persons of the court, proceeded
towards the dome; and being come to it, went in, and sat down with them
on carpets laid on the ground, made of black satin, with gold flowers. A
great body of horse guards, hanging their heads, and looking down, drew
up close about the dome, and marched round it twice, observing a profound
silence; but at the third round, they halted before the door, and all of
them with a loud voice pronounced these words: ‘O prince, son to the
king, could we by dint of sword and human valour any way retrieve your
misfortune, we would bring you back to life; but the King of kings has
commanded, and the angel of death has obeyed.’ Having uttered these
words, they drew off, to make way for a hundred old men, all of them
mounted on black mules, and wearing long gray beards.
These were anchorites, who lived all their days concealed in caves. They
never appeared in the sight of the world, but when they were to assist at
the obsequies of the kings of Harran, and of the princes of their family.
Each of these venerable persons carried a book on his head, which he held
with one hand. They took three turns round the dome without uttering one
word; then stopping before the door, one of them said, ‘O prince, what
can we do for you? If you could be restored to life by prayers or
learning, we would rub our gray beards at thy feet, and recite prayers;
but the King of the universe has taken you away for ever.’
This said, the old men removed at a distance from the dome, and
immediately fifty young beautiful maids drew near to it: each of them was
mounted on a little white horse: they wore no veils, and carried gold
baskets full of all sorts of precious stones. Thus they did also ride
thrice round the dome; and, halting at the same place as the others had
done, the youngest of them spoke in the name of all as follows: ‘O
prince, once so beautiful, what relief can you expect from us? If we
could restore you to life by our charms, we would become your slaves. But
you are no longer sensible to beauty, and have no more occasion for us.’
When the young maids were withdrawn, the king and his courtiers arose,
and, having walked thrice round the figure representing Codadad, the king
spoke as follows: ‘O my dear son, light of my eyes, I have then lost thee
for ever.’ These words were attended with sighs, and he watered the tomb
with his tears, his courtiers weeping with him. Then the gate of the dome
was shut, and all the people returned to the city. The next day, there
were public prayers in all the mosques; and the same was continued for
eight days successively. On the ninth, the king resolved to cause the
princes his sons to be beheaded. All the people, being incensed at their
cruelty towards Codadad, impatiently expected to see them executed. The
scaffolds were erecting; but the execution was respited, on account that,
on a sudden, news was brought, that the neighbouring princes, who had
before made war on the king of Harran, were advancing with more numerous
forces than the first time, and were not then far from the city. It had
been long known that they were preparing for war, but no great notice had
been taken of it. This advice occasioned a general consternation, and
gave new cause to lament the loss of Codadad, by reason that prince had
signalized himself in the former war against those enemies. Alas! said
they, were the brave Codadad alive, we should little value those princes
who are coming to surprise us. The king, nothing dismayed, raised men
with all possible speed, formed a considerable army, and, being too brave
to expect the enemy to come and attack him within his walls, marched out
to meet them. They, on their side, being informed by their advanced
parties that the king of Harran was marching to engage them, halted in
the plain, and formed their army.
As soon as the king discovered them, he also drew up his forces, and
ranged them in order of battle. The signal was given, and he attacked
them with extraordinary vigour. Nor was the opposition inferior: much
blood was shed on both sides, and the victory remained long dubious; but
at length it seemed to incline to the king of Harran’s enemies, who,
being more numerous, were about hemming him in, when a good body of horse
appeared on the plain, and drew near the two armies in good order. The
sight of that fresh party daunted both sides, as not knowing what to
think of them. But their doubts were soon cleared; for those horsemen
fell upon the flank of the king of Harran’s enemies, giving such a
furious charge, that they soon broke and put them to the rout; and, not
so satisfied, they pursued them, and cut most of them in pieces.
The king of Harran, who had nicely observed all the action, admired the
bravery of those horsemen, whose unexpected arrival had given the victory
to his side. But, above all, he was charmed with their chief, whom he had
seen fighting with a more than ordinary valour. He longed to know the
name of that generous hero. Being impatient to see and thank him, he
advanced towards him, but perceived he was coming to prevent him. The two
princes drew near, and the king of Harran finding Codadad in that brave
warrior who had just then succoured him, or rather defeated his enemies,
became motionless with joy and surprise. Sir, said Codadad to him, you
have sufficient cause to be astonished, seeing a man appear on a sudden
before your majesty whom perhaps you concluded to be dead. I should have
been so, had not Heaven preserved me still against your enemies. O my
son! cried the king, is it possible that you are restored to me? Alas! I
despaired of seeing you any more. Having so said, he stretched out his
arms to the young prince, who flew to his loving embraces.
I know all, my son, said the king again, after having long held him in
his arms; I know what return my sons have made you for the service you
did in delivering them out of the hands of the black; but you shall be
revenged to-morrow. Let us now go to the palace; your mother, who has
wept sufficiently for you, expects me, to rejoice with us for the defeat
of our enemies. What a joy will it be to her to be informed that my
victory is your handy-work! Sir, said Codadad, give me leave to ask you,
how could you come to know the adventure of the castle? Has any of my
brothers, repenting, owned the thing to you? No, answered the king, the
princess of Deryabar has given us an account of all things; for she is in
my palace, and came thither to demand justice against your brothers.
Codadad was in a transport of joy to understand that the princess his
wife was at the court. Let us go, sir, cried he to his father in a
rapture, let us go to see my mother, who waits for us. I have an ardent
desire to dry up her tears, as well as those of the princess of Deryabar.
The king immediately returned to the city, with his army, which he
dismissed; entering his palace victorious, amidst the acclamations of his
people, who followed him in crowds, praying to Heaven to prolong his
life, and extolling Codadad to the skies. These two princes found Pirouze
and her daughter-in-law waiting for the king to congratulate him; but
there is no expressing the transport of joy they felt when they saw the
young prince come with him: they dissolved in embraces, mixed with tears,
but of a different sort from those they had before shed for him. When
these four persons had performed all that the ties of blood and love
demanded of them, the question was asked of Pirouze’s son, by what
miracle he came to be still alive. He answered, that a peasant, mounted
on a mule, happening accidentally to come into the tent where he lay
senseless, and perceiving him alone, and stabbed in several places, had
made him fast on his mule, and carried him to his house, where he applied
to his wounds certain herbs chewed, which had recovered him in a few
days. When I found myself well, added he, I returned thanks to the
peasant, and gave him all the diamonds I had. Then I drew near the city
of Harran; but being informed by the way that some neighbouring princes
had gathered forces, and were coming to fall upon the king’s subjects, I
made myself known unto the villagers, and stirred up those people to
stand upon their guard. I armed a good number of young men; and heading
them, happened to come in at that time when the two armies were engaged.
When he had done speaking, the king said, Let us return thanks to God for
having preserved Codadad; but it is requisite that the traitors, who
would have destroyed him, should perish this day. Sir, answered the
generous son of Pirouze, though they are wicked and ungrateful, consider
they are your own flesh and blood: they are my brothers; I forgive them
the offence, and beg pardon of you for them. This generosity drew tears
from the king, who caused the people to be assembled, and declared
Codadad his heir. Then he ordered the princes, who were prisoners, to be
brought, loaded with irons. Pirouze’s son knocked off their chains, and
embraced them all successively, with as much sincerity as he had done in
the court of the black’s castle. The people were charmed with Codadad’s
good nature, and highly applauded him. Next he nobly rewarded the
surgeon, to requite the service he had done the princess of Deryabar.
The sultaness Scheherazade, having told the story of Ganem with so much
address, and in so agreeable a manner, that the sultan of the Indies
could not forbear showing the pleasure that relation gave him, said to
that monarch, I doubt not but your majesty is very well satisfied to find
the caliph Haroun Alraschid change his sentiments in favour of Ganem, his
mother, and sister; and I believe you may be sensibly affected with their
misfortunes, and the ill treatment they received; but am persuaded, if
your majesty would hear the story of the Sleeper Awakened, it would,
instead of exciting all those emotions of indignation and compassion in
your breast, on the contrary, afford you all the mirth and diversion
imaginable. The sultan, who promised himself some new adventures from the
title of that story, would have heard it that morning; but perceiving day
approached, deferred it till next, when Dinarzade called upon her sister,
who began her story as follows.
THE STORY OF
THE SLEEPER AWAKENED.
In the reign of caliph Haroun Alraschid, there lived at Bagdad a very
rich merchant, who, having married a woman pretty well in years, had but
one son, whom he named Abon Hassan, and educated with great restraint.
When this son was thirty years old, the merchant died, and left him his
sole heir, and master of great riches, which his father had amassed
together by his industry, frugality, and great application to business.
Abon Hassan, whose views and inclinations were very much different from
those of his father, was resolved to make another use of his wealth; for,
as his father had never allowed him any money but what was just necessary
for subsistence, and he had always envied those young persons of his age
who wanted none, and who debarred themselves from none of those pleasures
to which youth are too much addicted, he resolved, in his turn, to
signalize himself by extravagances proportionable to his fortune. To this
end, he divided his riches in two parts; with one half he bought houses
in town and land in the country, with a promise to himself never to touch
the income of his estate, which was considerable enough to live upon very
handsomely, but lay it all by; with the other half, which he kept by him
in ready money, he designed to make himself amends for the time he had
lost in the severe restraint with which his father had always kept him.
With this intent, Abon Hassan associated himself in a few days with
people of his age and condition, and thought of nothing more than how to
spend their time agreeably. Every day he gave them splendid
entertainments, at which the most exquisite and delicate wines flowed in
plenty, while concerts of the best vocal and instrumental music
heightened their pleasures; and then this young band of debauchees, with
glasses in their hands, sang and joined with the music; and these feasts
generally ended with balls at night, to which the best dancers in Bagdad,
of both sexes, were invited. These entertainments, renewed every day,
were so expensive to Abon Hassan, that he could not support the
extravagance above one year; and, in short, the great sum which he had
consecrated to this prodigality and the year ended together. As soon as
he left off keeping this table, his friends forsook him: whenever they
saw him, they avoided him; and if by chance he met any of them, and would
stop them, they always excused themselves on some pretence or other.
Abon Hassan, touched more to the quick at this strange behaviour of his
friends, who had forsaken him so basely and ungratefully, after all the
protestations of friendship they had made him, and their inviolable
attachment to his service, than all the money he had foolishly squandered
away, went, melancholy and thoughtful, into his mother’s apartment, and
sat down on a sofa a good distance from her. What is the matter with you,
son? said his mother, reading his grief in his countenance: why are you
so altered, so dejected, and so much different from yourself? You could
not certainly be more concerned if you had lost all you had in the world.
I know you have lived very profusely, and believe all your money is
spent; yet you have a good estate; and the reason I did not so very much
oppose your irregular way of living, was, I knew the wise precaution you
had taken to preserve half your substance; therefore I do not see why you
should plunge yourself into this deep melancholy.
At these words, Abon Hassan melted into tears, and in the midst of his
sighs cried out, Ah! mother, I see at last, by sad experience, how
insupportable poverty is: I am sensible that it deprives us of joy, as
much as the setting sun does of light. In poverty, we have no
commendations and fine things said unto us: we endeavour to conceal all
our actions, and spend our nights in tears and sorrow. In short, a poor
man is looked upon, both by friends and relations, as a stranger. You
know, mother, how I have used my friends for this year past: I have
entertained them with all imaginable generosity, till I have spent all my
money; and now they have left me, when I can treat them no longer. For my
estate, I thank Heaven for having given me the grace to keep the oath I
have made not to enter upon that; and now I shall know how to make a good
use of it. But first, I will try the gratitude of friends, who deserve
not that I should call them so: I will go to them one after another, and
when I have represented to them what I have done for their sakes, I will
ask them to make me up a sum of money among them, to relieve me out of
the miserable condition I am reduced to: these are the steps I intend to
take to try their gratitude.
I do not pretend, son, said Abon Hassan’s mother, to dissuade you from
executing your design; but I can tell you before-hand, that you have no
ground for any hope: believe me, you will find no relief, but from the
estate you have reserved. I see you do not, but will soon know those
people, whom we generally call friends; and I wish to Heaven you may, in
the manner I desire; that is to say, for your own good. Mother, replied
Abon Hassan, I am persuaded of the truth of what you say; but shall be
certain of a fact which concerns me so nearly, when I shall inform myself
better of their baseness. Upon this, Abon Hassan went immediately to his
friends, whom he found at home, represented to them the great need he was
in, and begged of them to loose their purse-strings to assist him. He
promised to give every one bonds to pay them the money they lent him, as
soon as his affairs were made up; giving them to understand, at the same
time, that it was, in a great measure, upon their accounts that he was
undone; and forgetting not to allure them with the hopes of being once
again entertained in the same manner as before.
Not one of his bottle companions was affected with the arguments which
the afflicted Abon Hassan made use of to persuade them; and he had the
mortification to find, that many of them told him plainly they scarce
knew him.
He returned home again full of grief and rage; and, going into his
mother’s apartment, said, Ah! madam, you was in the right of it; instead
of friends, I have found none but ungrateful, perfidious wretches, who
deserve not my friendship; whom I renounce, and promise never to see them
more. He resolved to be as good as his word; and, to that end, took all
possible precautions to avoid falling into the same inconvenience, taking
an oath never to give an inhabitant of Bagdad any entertainment again.
Afterwards he opened a strong chest, in which he had put the rents he had
received from his estate, and resolved to take every day a sum that was
sufficient to defray the expense of a single person to sup with him; who,
according to the oath he had taken, must be a stranger that came into
Bagdad the same day, and must take his leave of him the next morning.
According to this project, Abon Hassan took care every morning to provide
whatever he designed for night, and towards the close of the evening went
and sat on Bagdad bridge; and, as soon as ever he saw a stranger, of
whatever condition he was, he accosted him civilly, and invited him to
sup and lodge with him that night; and, after having informed him of the
law he had imposed upon himself, took him home with him. The repast with
which Abon Hassan regaled his guests was not costly, but always plain and
neat, with plenty of good wine, and generally lasted till the night was
pretty well advanced; when, instead of entertaining his guest with the
affairs of state, his family or business, as is too frequent, he affected
to talk of indifferent subjects, and was naturally of so gay and pleasant
a temper, that he could give the most agreeable turns in conversation,
and make the most reserved and melancholy persons merry. When he saw his
guest again the next morning, he always said to him, God preserve you
from all sorrow wherever you go: when I invited you yesterday to come and
sup with me, I informed you of the law I have made; therefore do not take
it ill if I tell you that we must never see one another again, nor drink
together, for reasons best known to myself: so God conduct you.
Abon Hassan was very exact in the observation of this oath, and never
looked upon, or spoke to, any stranger he had once entertained, wherever
he met them; and had lived for a long time after this manner, when one
afternoon, a little before sunset, as he was sitting upon the bridge,
according to custom, the caliph Haroun Alraschid came by so disguised
that nobody could know him: for that monarch, though his chief ministers
and officers of justice acquitted themselves of their duty very
punctually, yet would take notice of every thing himself; and, to that
purpose, often disguised himself, and walked through the city and suburbs
of Bagdad; and that day was dressed like a merchant of Moussel, who had
but just disembarked, and was followed by a slave.