only wept, groaned, and sighed, I begged of her to tell me how
she had escaped out of the hands of the robbers. 'Why would you
require of me,' said she, with a profound sigh, 'to renew my
grief? Would to God the robbers had taken away my life, rather
than have preserved it; my misfortunes would then have had an
end, whereas I live but to increase my sufferings.'
"Madam,' I replied, 'I beg you would not refuse me this favour.
You cannot but know that the wretched feel a consolation in
relating their greatest misfortunes; what I ask would alleviate
yours, if you would have the goodness to gratify me.'
"'Hear then,' said she, 'the most afflicting adventure that could
possibly have happened to one so deeply in love as myself, who
considered myself as at the utmost point of my wishes. You must
know, when I first saw the robbers enter, sword in hand, I
considered it as the last moment of our lives. But death was not
an object of regret, since I thought I was to die with the prince
of Persia. However, instead of murdering us, as I expected, two
of the robbers were ordered to take care of us, whilst their
companions were busied in packing up the goods they found in the
house. When they had done, and got their bundles upon their
backs, they went out, and took us with them.
"'As we went along, one of those that had charge of us demanded
of me who I was? I answered, I was a dancer. He put the same
question to the prince, who replied, he was a citizen.
"'When we had reached the place of our destination, a new alarm
seized us. They gathered about us, and after having considered my
dress, and the rich jewels I was adorned with, they seemed to
suspect I had disguised my quality." "Dancers," said they, "do not
use to be dressed as you are. Tell us truly who you are?"
"'When they saw I made no reply, they asked the prince once more
who he was, for they told him they plainly perceived he was not
the person he pretended to be. He did not satisfy them much more
than I had done; he only told them he came to see the jeweller,
naming him, who was the owner of the house where they found us."
"I know this jeweller," replied one of the rogues, who seemed to
have some authority over the rest: "I owe him some obligations,
which he knows nothing of, and I take upon me to bring him hither
to-morrow morning; but you must not expect," continued he, "to be
released till he arrives and tells us who you are; in the mean
time, I promise you there shall be no injury offered to you."
"The jeweller was brought next morning, who thinking to oblige
us, as he really did, declared to the robbers the whole truth.
They immediately came and asked my pardon, and I believe did the
like to the prince, who was shut up in another room. They
protested to me, they would not have broken open the house where
we were, had they known it was the jeweller's. They soon after
took us (the prince, the jeweller, and myself), carried us to the
river side, put us aboard a boat, and rowed us across the water;
but we were no sooner landed, than a party of horse-patrol came
up to us.
"The robbers fled; I took the commander aside, and told him my
name, and that the night before I had been seized by robbers, who
forced me along with them; but having been told who I was,
released me, and the two persons he saw with me, on my account.
He alighted out of respect to me; and expressing great joy at
being able to oblige me, caused two boats to be brought: putting
me and two of his soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, he
escorted me hither: but what is become of the prince and his
friend I cannot tell.
"'I trust,' added she, melting into tears, 'no harm has befallen
them since our separation; and I do not doubt but the prince's
concern for me is equal to mine for him. The jeweller, to whom we
have been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss
he has sustained on our account. Fail not, therefore, to take two
purses of a thousand pieces of gold in each, and carry them to
him to-morrow morning in my name, and be sure to inquire after
the prince's welfare.'
"When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to
the last article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to
persuade her to endeavour to triumph over her passion, after the
danger she had so lately escaped almost by miracle. 'Make me no
answer,' said she, 'but do what I require.'
"I was obliged to be silent, and am come hither to obey her
commands. I have been at your house, but not finding you at home,
and uncertain as I was of where you might be found, was about
going to the prince of Persia; but not daring to attempt the
journey, I have left the two purses with a particular friend, and
if you will wait here, I will go and fetch them immediately."
The confidant soon returned to the jeweller in the mosque, where
she had left him, and giving him the two purses, bade him out of
them satisfy his friends. "They are much more than is necessary,"
said he, "but I dare not refuse the present from so good and
generous a lady to her most humble servant; I beseech you to
assure her from me, that I shall preserve an eternal remembrance
of her goodness." He then agreed with the confidant, that she
should find him at the house where she had first seen him,
whenever she had occasion to impart any thing from Schemselnihar,
or to hear any tidings of the prince of Persia: and so they
parted.
The jeweller returned home well pleased, not only that he had got
wherewithal so fully to satisfy his friends, but also to think
that no person in Bagdad could possibly know that the prince and
Schemselnihar had been in his other house when it was robbed. It
is true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but on their
secrecy he thought he might very well depend. Next morning he
visited the friends who had obliged him, and found no difficulty
in satisfying them. He had money in hand to furnish his other
house, in which he placed servants. Thus he forgot all his past
danger, and the next evening waited on the prince of Persia.
The prince's domestics told the jeweller, that he came very
opportunely, as the prince, since he had parted with him, was
reduced to such a state that his life was in danger. They
introduced him softly into his chamber, and he found him in a
condition that excited his pity. He was lying on his bed, with
his eyes closed; but when the jeweller saluted him, and exhorted
him to take courage, he recollected him, opened his eyes, and
gave him a look that sufficiently declared the greatness of his
affliction, infinitely beyond what he felt after he first saw
Schemselnihar. He grasped him by the hand, to testify his
friendship, and told him, in a feeble voice, that he was
extremely obliged to him for coming so far to visit one so
unhappy and wretched.
"Prince," replied the jeweller, "mention not, I beseech you, any
obligations you owe to me. I wish the good offices I have
endeavoured to do you had had a better effect; but at present,
let us talk only of your health; which, in the state I see you, I
fear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from proper
nourishment."
The prince's servants took this opportunity to tell him, it was
with the greatest difficulty they had prevailed on their master
to take the smallest refreshment, and that for some time he had
taken nothing. This obliged the jeweller to entreat the prince to
let his servants bring him something to eat.
After the prince had, through the persuasion of the jeweller,
eaten more than he had hitherto done, he commanded the servants
to leave him alone with his friend. When the room was clear, he
said, "Besides the misfortune that distracts me, I have been
exceedingly concerned to think what a loss you have sustained on
my account; and it is but just I should make you some recompence.
But before I do this, after begging your pardon a thousand times,
I conjure you to tell me whether you have learnt any tidings of
Schemselnihar, since I had the misfortune to be parted from her."
Here the jeweller, instructed by the confidant, related to him
all that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her palace, her
state of health from that time till she recovered, and how she
had sent her confidant to him to inquire after his welfare.
To all this the prince replied only by sighs and tears. He made
an effort to get up, and calling his servants, went himself to
his wardrobe, and having caused several bundles of rich furniture
and plate to be packed up, he ordered them to be carried to the
jeweller's house.
The jeweller would fain have declined this kind offer; but
although he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him
more than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince
would be obeyed. The jeweller was therefore obliged to make all
possible acknowledgments, and protested how much he was
confounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken
his leave, but the prince desired him to stay, and they passed
good part of the night in conversation.
Next morning the jeweller waited again on the prince, who made
him sit down by him. "You know," said he, "there is an end
proposed in all things: that which the lover proposes, is to
enjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If once he
loses that hope, he must not think to live. Such is my hard case;
for twice when I have been at the very point of fulfilling my
desires, I have suddenly been torn from her I loved in the most
cruel manner imaginable. It remains for me only to think of
death, and I had sought it, but that our holy religion forbids
suicide; but I need not anticipate it; I need not wait long."
Here he stopped, and vented his passion in groans, sighs, sobs,
and tears, which flowed abundantly.
The jeweller, who knew no better way of diverting him from his
despair than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving
him some shadow of hope, told him, he feared the confidant might
be come from her lady, and therefore it would not be proper to
stay any longer from home. "I will let you go," said the prince,
"but conjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to
assure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do shortly, I
shall love her to the last moment, even in the grave."
The jeweller returned home, and waited in expectation of seeing
the confidant, who came some hours after, but all in tears, and
in great affliction. The jeweller alarmed, asked her what was the
matter? She answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince, herself,
and he, were all ruined. "Hear the sad news," said she, "as it
was told me just upon my entering the palace after I had left you.
"Schemselnihar had for some fault chastised one of the slaves you
saw with her when you met in your other house. The slave, enraged
at the ill treatment, ran immediately away, and finding the gate
open, went out; so that we have just reason to believe she has
discovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her
protection.
"But this is not all; the other slave her companion has fled too,
and has taken refuge in the caliph's palace. So that we may well
fear she has borne her part in this discovery: for just as I came
away, the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for
Schemselnihar, who have carried her to the palace. I just found
means to come and tell you this. I know not what has passed, yet
I fear no good; but above all, I recommend to you to keep the
secret inviolate."
The confidant added to what she had related before to the
jeweller, that it was proper he should go immediately and
acquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be
prepared for every event, and keep faithful to the common cause.
She went away in haste, without staying for any answer.
What answer could the jeweller have made in the condition he was
in? He stood motionless as if thunderstruck. He found, however,
that there was no time to be lost, and immediately went to give
the prince information. He addressed him with an air, that
sufficiently shewed the bad news he brought. "Prince," said he,
"arm yourself with courage and patience, and prepare to receive
the most terrible shock that ever you had to encounter."
"Tell me in a few words," replied the prince, "what is the
matter, without keeping me in suspense; I am, if necessary,
prepared to die."
Then the jeweller repeated all that he had learnt from the
confidant. "You see," continued he, "your destruction is
inevitable. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the time is
precious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to the anger
of the caliph, and, less than any, confess in the midst of
torture."
At these words the prince was ready to expire through grief,
affliction, and fear. However, he recovered himself, and asked
the jeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this
conjuncture, every moment of which ought to be employed. The
jeweller told him, he thought nothing remained, but that he
should immediately take horse, and hasten away towards Anbar,
that he might get thither before day. "Take what servants and
swift horses you think necessary," continued he, "and suffer me
to escape with you."
The prince, seeing nothing more to be done, immediately gave
orders to prepare such an equipage as would be least troublesome;
took money and jewels, and having taken leave of his mother,
departed with the jeweller and such servants as he had chosen.
They travelled all night without stopping, till at length, both
their horses and themselves being spent with so long a journey,
they halted to rest themselves.
They had hardly alighted before they found themselves surrounded
and assaulted by a band of robbers. They defended their lives for
some time courageously; but at length the prince's servants being
all killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield at
discretion. The robbers, however, spared their dives, but after
they had seized the horses and baggage, they took away their
clothes and left them naked.
When the thieves were gone, the prince said to the jeweller,
"What think you of our adventure and condition? Had I not better
have tarried in Bagdad, and awaited my death?" "Prince," replied
the jeweller, "it is the decree of Heaven that we should thus
suffer. It has pleased God to add affliction to affliction and
we must not murmur, but receive his chastisements with
submission. Let us stay no longer here, but seek for some retreat
where we may perhaps be relieved."
"Let me die," said the prince; "for what signifies it whether I
die here or elsewhere. Perhaps while we are talking,
Schemselnihar is no more, and why should I endeavour to live
after she is dead!" The jeweller, by his entreaty, at length
prevailed on him, and they had not gone far before they came to a
mosque, which was open; they entered it, and passed there the
remainder of the night.
At day-break a man came into the mosque. When he had ended his
prayer, as he turned about to go away, he perceived the prince
and jeweller, who were sitting in a corner. He came up to them,
and after having saluted them with a great deal of civility,
said, "I perceive you are strangers."
The jeweller answered, "You are not deceived. We have been robbed
to-night in coming from Bagdad, as you may see, and have retired
hither for shelter, but we know not to whom to apply." "If you
think fit to accompany me to my house," answered the man, "I will
give you all the assistance in my power."
Upon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and
whispered, "This man, as you perceive, sir, does not know us, and
we have reason to fear that somebody else may come who does. We
cannot, I think, refuse his offer." "Do as you please," said the
prince; "I am willing to be guided by your discretion."
The man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together,
and thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked
them if they were resolved what to do? The jeweller answered "We
are ready to follow you; all we hesitate about is that we are
ashamed to appear thus naked."
Fortunately the man had it in his power to cover them
sufficiently till they could get to his house. As soon as they
had entered, he brought a very handsome suit for each of them. As
he thought they must be hungry, and might wish to be alone, he
had several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate
little, especially the prince who was so dejected and dispirited,
that he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host
visited them several times in the course of the day, and in the
evening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early. But he
was no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him
again to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found
him breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him reason to
fear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince
said, "It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last
words. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not
tell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is,
that I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always
loved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. Let
her know how much I was concerned at this, and request her in my
name to have my body removed to Bagdad, that she may have an
opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my
departed soul with her prayers." He then took notice of the
master of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking
him in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till
it should be conveyed to Bagdad, he expired.
The day after the prince's death, the jeweller took the
opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and
arrived there in safety. He first went home to change his
clothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace, where every
body was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired
them to acquaint the prince's mother that he wished to speak with
her, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a
hall, with several of her women about her. "Madam," said he to
her, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he
brought, "God preserve you, and shower down upon you the choicest
of his blessings. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes
of us at his pleasure."
The princess would not permit him to proceed, but exclaimed,
"Alas! you bring me the news of my son's death?" She and her
women at the same time wept and sobbed loudly. At length she
checked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue
without concealing from her the least circumstance of such a
melancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done,
she farther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given
him in charge something more particular in his last moments? He
assured her his last words were, that it was to him the most
afflicting circumstance that he must die so far distant from his
dear mother, and that the only thing he wished was, that she
would have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly early
next morning the princess set out with her women and great part
of her slaves, to bring her son's body to her own palace.
When the jeweller, whom she had detained, had seen her depart, he
returned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so
accomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower
of his age.
As he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a
woman standing before him. He recognized her to be
Schemselnihar's confidant. At the sight of her, his tears began
to flow afresh but he said nothing to her; and going into his own
house, she followed him.
They sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation,
asked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the
death of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that
she grieved. "Alas!" answered she, "What! is that charming prince
then dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar.
Beauteous souls," continued she, "in whatsoever place ye now are,
ye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted.
Your bodies were an obstacle to your wishes; but Heaven has
delivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union."
The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and
had not reflected that the confidant was in mourning, suffered
fresh grief at this intelligence. "Is Schemselnihar then dead?"
cried he. "She is," replied the confidant, weeping afresh, "and
it is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death
were extraordinary," continued she, "and deserve to be known to
you: but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to
acquaint me with those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my
dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live."
The jeweller then gave the confidant the information she desired;
and after he had told her all, even to the departure of the
prince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began and
said, "You have not forgotten that I told you the caliph had sent
for Schemselnihar to his palace. He had, as we had every reason
to believe, been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince
by the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You may imagine,
he would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar's conduct, and
give striking proofs of his jealousy and of his impending
vengeance against the prince. But this was by no means the case.
He pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for
what had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about
the city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only
conclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behavior
towards her, as you will hear.
"He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed
that the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty
(for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear), with
a goodness worthy himself, he said 'Schemselnihar, I cannot bear
your appearing before me thus with an air which gives me infinite
pain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved
you, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the
continued demonstrations I have given of it. I can never change
my mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies,
Schemselnihar,' proceeded he, 'and those enemies have insinuated
things against your conduct, but all they have said against you
has not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this
melancholy, and prepare to entertain me this night with some
amusing conversation, after your accustomed manner.' He said many
other obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a
magnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.
"The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the caliph's
kindness; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the
more she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for
ever, from her prince, without whom she could not live.
"This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar," continued
the confidant, "took place whilst I was come to speak to you, and
I learned the particulars of it from my companions who were
present. But I had no sooner left you," proceeded she, "than I
went to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what
happened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you
of; and as she though I came from you, she drew near me, and
whispering me, said, 'I am much obliged to you for the service
you have done me, but I feel it will be the last.' She said no
more; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to
comfort her.
"The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments
which her women played upon, and the collation was immediately
served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit
down with him on the sofa; she put such a force upon herself to
please him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she
was hardly set down, when she fell backwards. The caliph believed
she had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never
recovered, and in this manner we lost her.
"The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able
to refrain from tears; and before he left the room ordered all
the musical instruments to be broken; this was immediately done.
I stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and
dressed her for her funeral, bathing her with my tears. The
caliph had her interred in a magnificent tomb he had erected for
her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in.
Now since you tell me," said she, "the prince of Persia's body is
to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he
shall be interred in the same tomb."