troublesome dreams, which represented Schemselnihar in a swoon at
the caliph's feet, and increased his affliction. Ebn Thaher was
very impatient to be at home, and doubted not but his family was
under great apprehension, because he never used to sleep out. He
arose and departed early in the morning, after he had taken leave
of his friend, who rose at break of day to prayers At last he
reached his house, and the first thing the prince of Persia did,
who had walked so far with much trouble, was to lie down upon a
sofa, as weary as if he had been a long journey. Not being in a
state to go to his own palace, Ebn Thaher ordered a chamber to be
prepared for him, and sent to acquaint his friends with his
condition, and where he was. In the mean time he begged him to
compose himself, to command in his house, and to dispose of all
things as he pleased. "I thank you heartily for your obliging
offers," said the prince; "but that I may not be any ways
troublesome to you, I conjure you to deal with me as if I were
not at your house. I would not stay one moment, if I thought my
presence would incommode you in the least."
As soon as Ebn Thaher had time to recollect himself, he told his
family all that had passed at Schemselnihar's palace, and
concluded by thanking God, who had delivered him from the danger
he had been in. The prince of Persia's principal domestics came
to receive his orders at Ebn Thaher's house, and in a little time
there arrived several of his friends, who had notice of his
indisposition. Those friends passed the greatest part of the day
with him; and though their conversation could not extinguish
those melancholy ideas which were the cause of his trouble, yet
it afforded him some relief. He would have taken his leave of Ebn
Thaher towards the evening; but this faithful friend found him
still so weak, that he obliged him to stay till next day, and in
the mean time, to divert him, gave a concert of vocal and
instrumental music in the evening; but this concert served only
to remind him of the preceding night, and renewed his trouble,
instead of assuaging it; so that next day his distemper seemed to
increase. Upon this Ebn Thaher did not oppose his going home, but
took care to accompany him; and when he was with him alone in his
chamber, he represented to him all those arguments which might
influence him to a generous effort to overcome his passion, which
in the end would neither prove fortunate to himself nor to the
favourite. "Ah! dear Ebn Thaher," exclaimed the prince, "how easy
is it for you to give this advice, but how hard for me to follow
it! I am sensible of its importance, but am not able to profit by
it. I have said already, that I shall carry to the grave the love
I bear to Schemselnihar." When Ebn Thaher saw that he could gain
nothing upon the prince, he took his leave, and would have
retired.
The prince of Persia interrupted him, and said, "Kind Ebn Thaher,
since I have declared to you that it is not in my power to follow
your wise counsels, I beg you would not charge it on me as a
crime, nor forbear to give me the usual testimonies of your
friendship. You cannot do me a greater favour than to inform me
of the destiny of my dear Schemselnihar, when you hear of her.
The uncertainty I am in concerning her fate, and the
apprehensions her fainting have occasioned in me, keep me in this
languishing condition you reproach me with." "My lord," answered
Ebn Thaher, "you have reason to hope that her fainting was not
attended with any bad consequences: her confidant will quickly
come and inform me of the issue; and as soon as I know the
particulars, I will not fail to impart them."
Ebn Thaher left the prince in this hope, and returned home, where
he expected Schemselnihar's confidant all the rest of the day,
but in vain, nor did she come on the following. His uneasiness to
know the state of the prince of Persia's health would not suffer
him to wait any longer without seeing him. He went to his palace
to exhort him to patience, and found him lying on his bed as ill
as ever, surrounded by a great many of his friends, and several
physicians, who used all their art to discover the cause of his
disorder. As soon as he saw Ebn Thaher, he looked at him with a
smile, to signify that he had two things to tell him; the one,
that he was glad to see him; the other how much the physicians,
who could not discover the cause of his illness, were out in
their reasonings.
His friends and physicians retired one after another, so that Ebn
Thaher being alone with him, approached his bed to ask him how he
had been since he had last seen him. "I must tell you," answered
the prince, "that my passion, which continually gathers new
strength, and the uncertainty of the lovely Schemselnihar's fate,
augment my disorder every moment, and cast me into such a state
as afflicts my kindred and friends, and breaks the measures of my
physicians, who do not understand it. You cannot think," he
added, "how much I suffer by seeing so many people about me, who
importune me, and whom I cannot in civility put away. Your
company alone relieves me; but I conjure you not to dissemble
with me: what news do you bring of Schemselnihar? Have you seen
her confidant? What says she to you?" Ebn Thaher answered, that
he had not seen her yet. No sooner had he communicated to the
prince of Persia this sad intelligence, than the tears came into
his eyes; he could not answer one word, his heart was so
oppressed. "Prince," added Ebn Thaher, "suffer me to tell you,
that you are too ingenious in tormenting yourself. In the name of
God, wipe away your tears: if any of your people should come in,
they would discover you by this, notwithstanding the care you
ought to take to conceal your thoughts." Whatever his judicious
adviser could say, it was not possible for the prince to refrain
from weeping. "Wise Ebn Thaher," said he, when he had recovered
his speech, "I may indeed hinder my tongue from revealing the
secrets of my heart, but I have no power over my tears, upon such
an alarming subject as Schemselnihar's danger. If that adorable
and only objets of my desires be no longer in the world, I shall
not survive her a moment." "Reject so afflicting a thought,"
replied Ebn Thaher; "Schemselnihar is yet alive, you need not
doubt it: if you have heard no news of her, it is because she
could find no opportunity to send to you, and I hope you will
hear from her to-day." To this he added several other consoling
arguments, and then withdrew.
Ebn Thaher had scarcely reached his own house, when
Schemselnihar's confidant arrived with a melancholy countenance,
which he reckoned a bad omen. He asked news of her mistress.
"Tell me yours first," said the confidant, "for I was in great
trouble to see the prince of Persia go away in that condition."
Ebn Thaher told her all that she wished to know, and when he had
done, the slave began thus: "If the prince of Persia has
suffered, and does still suffer for my mistress, she suffers no
less for him. After I departed from you, I returned to the
saloon, where I found Schemselnihar not yet recovered from her
swoon, notwithstanding all the assistance they endeavoured to
give her. The caliph was sitting near her with all the signs of
real grief. He asked all the women, and me in particular, if we
knew the cause of her disorder; but we kept all secret, and told
him we were altogether ignorant of it. In the mean time we all
wept to see her suffer so long, and forgot nothing that might any
ways relieve her. In a word, it was almost midnight before she
came to herself. The caliph, who had the patience to wait the
event, was rejoiced at her recovery, and asked Schemselnihar the
cause of her illness. As soon as she heard him speak, she
endeavoured to recover her seat; and after she had kissed his
feet, before he could hinder her, 'Sir,' said she, 'I have reason
to complain of heaven, that it did not allow me to expire at your
majesty's feet to testify thereby how sensible I am of your
favours.'
"'I am persuaded you love me,' replied the caliph, 'and I command
you to preserve yourself for my sake. You have probably exceeded
in something to-day, which has occasioned this indisposition;
take care, I entreat you; abstain from it for the future. I am
glad to see you better, and advise you to stay here to-night, and
not return to your chamber, for fear the motion should affect
you.' He then commanded a little wine to be brought to strengthen
her; and taking leave of her, returned to his apartment.
"As soon as the caliph had departed, my mistress gave me a sign
to come near her. She asked me earnestly concerning you: I
assured her that you had been gone a long time, which made her
easy on that head. I took care not to speak of the prince of
Persia's fainting, lest she should fall into the same state, from
which we had so much trouble to recover her: but my precautions
were in vain, as you shall hear. 'Prince,' exclaimed she, 'I
henceforth renounce all pleasure as long as I am deprived of the
sight of you. If I have understood your heart right, I only
follow your example. You will not cease to weep and mourn until I
see you.' At these words, which she uttered in a manner
expressive of the violence of her passion, she fainted a second
time in my arms.
"My companions and I were a long time recovering her; at last she
came to herself; and then I said to her, 'Madam, are you resolved
to kill yourself, and to make us also die with you? I entreat
you, in the name of the prince of Persia, who is so deeply
interested in your life, to preserve it.' 'I am much obliged to
you,' replied she, 'for your care, your zeal, and your advice;
but alas! they are useless to me: you are not to flatter us with
any hopes, for we can expect no end of our torment but in the
grave.'
"One of my companions would have diverted these sad thoughts by
playing on the lute, but she commanded her to be silent, and
ordered all of them to retire, except me, whom she kept all night
with her. O heavens! what a night it was! she passed it in tears
and groans, and incessantly naming the prince of Persia. She
lamented her lot, that had destined her to the caliph, whom she
could not love, and not for him whom she loved so dearly.
"Next morning, as she was not commodiously lodged in the saloon,
I helped her to her chamber, which she had no sooner reached,
than all the physicians of the palace came to see her, by order
of the caliph, who was not long before he arrived himself. The
medicines which the physicians prescribed to Schemselnihar were
ineffectual, because they were ignorant of the cause of her
malady, which was augmented by the presence of the caliph. She
got a little rest however this night, and as soon as she awoke,
she charged me to come to you, to learn some news of the prince
of Persia." "I have already informed you of his case," said Ebn
Thaher; "so return to your mistress, and assure her, that the
prince of Persia waits for some account of her with an impatience
equal to her own. Above all, exhort her to moderation, and to
overcome her feelings, for fear she should drop before the caliph
some word, which may prove fatal to us all." "As for me," replied
the confidant, "I confess I dread her transports. I have taken
the liberty to tell her my mind, and am persuaded that she will
not take it ill that I tell her this from you."
Ebn Thaher, who had but just come from the prince of Persia's
lodgings, thought it not convenient to return so soon, and
neglect his own important affairs; he therefore went not till the
evening. The prince was alone, and no better than in the morning.
"Ebn Thaher," said he to him, as soon as he saw him, "you have
doubtless many friends, but they do not know your worth, which
you discover to me by your zeal, your care, and the trouble you
give yourself to oblige me. I am confounded with all that you do
for me with so much affection, and I know not how I shall be able
to express my gratitude." "Prince," answered Ebn Thaher, "do not
speak thus, I entreat you. I am ready, not only to give one of my
eyes to save one of yours, but to sacrifice my life for you. But
this is not the present business. I come to tell you that
Schemselnihar sent her confidant to ask me about you, and at the
same time to inform me of her condition. You may assure yourself
that I said nothing but what might confirm the excess of your
passion for her mistress, and the constancy with which you love
her." Then Ebn Thaher gave him a particular account of all that
had passed betwixt the trusty slave and him. The prince listened
with all the different emotions of fear, jealousy, affection, and
compassion, which this conversation could inspire, making, upon
every thing which he heard, all the afflicting or comforting
reflections that so passionate a lover was capable of.
Their conversation continued so long that the night was far
advanced, so that the prince of Persia obliged Ebn Thaher to stay
with him. The next morning, as this trusty friend returned home,
there came a woman to him whom he knew to be Schemselnihar's
confidant, and immediately she spoke to him thus: "My mistress
salutes you, and I am come to entreat you in her name to deliver
this letter to the prince of Persia." The zealous Ebn Thaher took
the letter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the
confidant slave.
When Ebn Thaher entered the prince of Persia's house with
Schemselnihar's confidant, he prayed her to stay, and wait for
him a moment in the ante-room. As soon as the prince saw him, he
asked earnestly what news he had to communicate? "The best you
can expect," answered Ebn Thaher: "you are as dearly beloved as
you love; Schemselnihar's confidant is in your anteroom; she has
brought you a letter from her mistress, and waits for your orders
to come in." "Let her enter," cried the prince, with a transport
of joy; and so saying, sat up to receive her.
The prince's attendants retired as soon as they saw Ebn Thaher,
and left him alone with their master. Ebn Thaher opened the door
himself, and brought in the confidant. The prince knew her, and
received her with great politeness. "My lord," said she to him,
"I am sensible of the affliction you have endured since I had the
honour to conduct you to the boat which waited to bring you back;
but I hope the letter I have brought will contribute to your
cure." So saying, she presented him the letter. He took it, and
after he had kissed it several times, opened it, and read as
follows:
Letter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.
"The person who will deliver to you this letter will give you more
correct information concerning me than I can, for I have not been
myself since I saw you. Deprived of your presence, I endeavour to
deceive myself by conversing with you by these ill-written lines, with
the same pleasure as if I had the happiness of speaking to you in
person.
"It is said that patience is a cure for all evils, but instead of
relieving it heightens my sufferings. Although your picture is
deeply engraver in my heart, my eyes desire to have the original
continually before them; and they will lose all their light, if
they be any considerable time deprived of this felicity. May I
flatter myself that yours have the same impatience to see me?
Yes, I can; their tender glances have sufficiently assured me of
this. How happy, prince, would it be for you, how happy for
Schemselnihar, if our united desires were not thwarted by
invincible obstacles; obstacles which afflict me the more
sensibly as they affect you.
"These thoughts which my fingers write, and which I express with
incredible pleasure, repeating them again and again, proceed from
the bottom of my heart, and from the incurable wound which you
have made in it; a wound which I bless a thousand times,
notwithstanding the cruel torments I endure through your absence.
I would reckon all that opposes our love nothing, were I only
allowed to see you sometimes with freedom; I should then enjoy
your company, and what could I desire more?
"Do not imagine that I say more than I think. Alas! whatever
expressions I use, I feel that I think more than I can tell you.
My eyes, which are continually watching and weeping for your
return; my afflicted heart, which desires you alone; the sighs
that escape me as often as I think on you, and that is every
moment; my imagination, which represents no other object to me
than my dear prince; the complaints that I make to heaven for the
rigour of my destiny; in a word, my grief, my distress, my
torments, which have allowed me no ease since I was deprived of
your presence, will vouch for what I write.
"Am not I unhappy to be born to dove, without hope of enjoying
the object of my passion? This afflicting thought oppresses me so
that I should die, were I not persuaded that you love me: but
this sweet comfort balances my despair, and preserves my life.
Tell me that you love me always. I will keep your letter
carefully, and read it a thousand times a-day: I shall endure my
afflictions with less impatience: I pray heaven may cease to be
angry at us, and grant us an opportunity to say that we love one
another without fear; and that we shall never cease thus to love.
Adieu. I salute Ebn Thaher, to whom we are so much obliged."
The prince of Persia was not satisfied with reading the letter
once; he thought he had perused it with too little attention, and
therefore read it again with more leisure; and while so doing,
sometimes heaved deep sighs, sometimes shed tears, and sometimes
broke out into transports of joy and tenderness as the contents
affected him. In short, he could not keep his eyes off those
characters drawn by so beloved a hand, and was beginning to read
it a third time, when Ebn Thaher observed to him that the
confidant had no time to lose, and that he ought to think of
giving an answer. "Alas!" cried the prince, "how would you have
me reply to so kind a letter! In what terms shall I express
myself in my present disturbed state! My mind is tossed with a
thousand tormenting thoughts, which are lost the moment they are
conceived, to make way for others. So long as my body is
influenced by the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to
hold the paper, or guide a reed to write."
So saying, he took out of a little desk which was near him,
paper, a cane ready cut, and an inkhorn.
The prince of Persia, before he began to write, gave
Schemselnihar's letter to Ebn Thaher, and prayed him to hold it
open while he wrote, that by casting his eyes upon it he might
the better see what to answer. He began to write; but the tears
that fell from his eyes upon the paper obliged him several times
to stop, that they might fall the more freely. At last he
finished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, "Read it, I
pray," said he, "and do me the favour to see if the disorder of
my mind has allowed me to give a favourable answer." Ebn Thaher
took it, and read as follows:
The Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar's Letter.
"I was plunged in the deepest grief when I received your letter,
but at the sight of it I was transported with unspeakable joy.
When I beheld the characters written by your fair hand, my eyes
were enlightened by a stronger light than they lost, when yours
were suddenly closed at the feet of my rival. The words contained
in your kind epistle are so many rays which have dispelled the
darkness wherewith my soul was obscured; they shew me how much
you suffer from your love of me, and that you are not ignorant of
what I endure on your account. Thus they comfort me in my
afflictions. On the one hand they cause me to shed tears in
abundance; and on the other, inflame my heart with a fire which
supports it, and prevents my dying of grief. I have not had one
moment's rest since our cruel separation. Your letter alone gave
me some ease. I kept a mournful silence till the moment I
received it, and then recovered my speech. I was buried in
profound melancholy, but it inspired me with joy, which
immediately appeared in my eyes and countenance. But my surprise
at receiving a favour which I had not yet deserved was so great,
that I knew not how to begin to testify my thankfulness. In a
word, after having kissed it several times, as a precious pledge
of your goodness, I read it over and over, and was confounded at
the excess of my good fortune. You would have me declare that I
always love you. Ah! did I not love you so perfectly as I do, I
could not forbear adoring you, after all the marks you have given
me of an affection so uncommon: yes, I love you, my dear soul,
and shall account it my glory to burn all my days with that sweet
fire you have kindled in my heart. I will never complain of that
ardour with which I feel it consumes me: and how rigorous soever
the evils I suffer, I will bear them with fortitude, in hopes
some time or other to see you. Would to heaven it were to-day,
and that, instead of sending you my letter, I might be allowed to
come and assure you in person, that I die for you! My tears
hinder me from saying more. Adieu."
Ebn Thaher could not read these last lines without weeping. He
returned the letter to the prince of Persia, and assured him it
wanted no correction. The prince closed it, and when he had
sealed it, he desired the trusty slave to come near, and said to
her, "This is my answer to you dear mistress's letter. I conjure
you to carry it to her, and to salute her in my name." The slave
took the letter, and retired with Ebn Thaher.
After Ebn Thaher had walked some way with the slave, he left her,
and went to his house, and began to think in earnest upon the
amorous intrigue in which he found himself unhappily engaged. He
considered, that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar,
notwithstanding their interest to conceal their correspondence,
conducted themselves with so little discretion, that it could not
be long a secret. He drew all the consequences from it, which a
man of good sense might have anticipated. "Were Schemselnihar,"
said he to himself, "a lady of common rank, I would contribute
all in my power to make her and her lover happy; but she is the
caliph's favourite, and no man can without danger attempt to
engage the affections of the objets of his choice. His anger
would fall in the first instance on Schemselnihar; it will next
cost the prince of Persia his life, and I should be involved in
his misfortune. In the mean time I have my honour, my quiet, my
family, and my property to preserve. I must, while I can,
extricate myself out of such a perilous situation."
These thoughts occupied his mind all that day. Next morning he
went to the prince of Persia, with a design of making one more
effort to induce him to conquer his passion. He represented to
him what he had before urged in vain; that it would be much
better for him to summon all his resolution, to overcome his
inclination for Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be
hurried away by it; and that his passion was so much the more
dangerous, as his rival was powerful. "In short, sir," added he,
"if you will hearken to me, you ought to think of nothing but to
triumph over your love; otherwise you run the risk of destroying
yourself with Schemselnihar, whose life ought to be dearer to you
than your own. I give you this advice as a friend, for which you
will some time or other thank me."
The prince heard Ebn Thaher with great impatience, but suffered
him to speak his mind, and then replied to him thus: "Ebn Thaher,
do you think I can cease to love Schemselnihar, who loves me so
tenderly? She is not afraid to expose her life for me, and would
you have me regard mine? No; whatever misfortunes befall me, I
will love Schemselnihar to my last breath."
Ebn Thaher, shocked at the obstinacy of the prince of Persia,
left him hastily, and going to his own house, recalled his former
reflections, and began to think seriously what he should do. In
the mean time a jeweller, one of his intimate friends, came to
see him. The jeweller had perceived that Schemselnihar's
confidant came oftener to Ebn Thaher than usual, and that he was
constantly with the prince of Persia, whose sickness was known to
every one, though not the cause. This had awakened the jeweller's
suspicions, and finding Ebn Thaher very pensive, he presently
judged that he was perplexed with some important affair, and
fancying that he knew the cause, he asked what Schemselnihar's
confidant wanted with him? Ebn Thaher being struck with this
question, would have dissembled, and told him, that it was on
some trifling errand she came so frequently to him. "You do not
tell me the truth," said the jeweller, "and your dissimulation
only serves to prove to me that this trifle is a more important
affair than at first I thought it to be."