Heaven that it was true! I should not be in this sorrowful state,
nor bewail a husband so dear to me!" At these words she wept
afresh, and with redoubled tears and cries feigned the deepest
sorrow.
The nurse was so much moved by her tears, that she sat down by
her, and cried too. Then gently lifting up the turban and cloth,
looked at the face of the corpse. "Ah! poor Abou Hassan," she
cried, covering his face again, "God have mercy upon thee. Adieu,
child," said she to Nouzhatoul-aouadat: "if I could stay longer
with you, I would with all my heart; but I am obliged to return
immediately, to deliver my mistress from the uneasiness that
black villain has occasioned her, by his impudent lie, assuring
her with an oath that you were dead."
As soon as the nurse was gone, Nouzhatoul-aouadat wiped her eyes
and released Abou Hassan; they both went and sat down on a sofa
against the window, expecting what would be the end of this
stratagem, and to be ready to act according as circumstances
might require.
The nurse, in the mean time, made all the haste she could to
Zobeide. The pleasure of carrying the princess news favourable to
her wager, but still more the hopes of a good reward, added wings
to her feet, and running into the princess's closet quite out of
breath, she gave her a true account of all she had seen. Zobeide
hearkened to the old woman's relation with a most sensible
pleasure; and when she had done, said, with a tone which shewed
triumph at having, as she supposed, won her wager: "Repeat it
once more before the caliph, who looks upon us all to be fools,
would make us believe we have no sense of religion, nor fear of
God; and tell your story to that wicked black slave, who had the
insolence to assert a wilful falsehood."
Mesrour, who expected the nurse's report would prove favourable
on his side, was much mortified to find it so much the contrary,
and so vexed at the anger Zobeide expressed against him, for a
thing which he thought himself surer of than any body, that he
was glad of an opportunity of speaking his mind freely to the old
women, which he durst not do to the princess. "Old toothless,"
said he to the nurse, "you are a liar, and there is no truth in
what you say; for I saw with my own eyes Nouzhatoul-aouadat laid
out in the middle of the room."
"You are a notorious liar yourself," replied the nurse, with an
insulting air, "to dare maintain so great a falsity before my
face, who am just come from seeing Abou Hassan dead, laid out,
and have left his wife alive." "I am not an impostor," replied
Mesrour; "it is you who endeavour to lead us all into error."
"What impudence," said the nurse, "to dare tell me I lie in the
presence of their majesties, when I saw just now with my own eyes
what I have had the honour to tell them." "Indeed, nurse,"
answered Mesrour again, "you had better hold your tongue, for you
certainly doat."
Zobeide, who could no longer endure this want of respect in
Mesrour, who, without any regard to her, treated her nurse so
injuriously in her presence, without giving the old lady time to
reply to so gross an affront, said to the caliph, "Commander of
the faithful, I demand justice for this insolence to us both."
She was so enraged she could say no more, but burst into tears.
The caliph, who had heard all the dispute, thought it very
intricate. He mused some time, and could not tell what to think
of so many contradictions. The princess on her part, as well as
Mesrour, the nurse, and all the women slaves, who were present,
were as much puzzled, and remained silent. At last the caliph,
addressing himself to Zobeide, said, "I see we are all liars;
myself first, then you, Mesrour, and you, nurse; or at least it
seems not one can be believed more than the other; therefore let
us go ourselves to examine the truth, for I can see no other way
to clear up these doubts."
So saying, the caliph arose, the princess followed him, and
Mesrour went before to open the doors. "Commander of the
faithful," said he, "I am overjoyed that your majesty has taken
this course; and shall be much more, when I shall make it plainly
appear to the nurse, not that she doats, since the expression is
unfortunately displeasing to my good mistress, but that her
report is not true."
The nurse wanted not a reply; "Hold your tongue, black face,"
said she; "you doat yourself."
Zobeide, who was much provoked at Mesrour, could not bear to hear
him attack her nurse again without taking her part: "Vile slave,"
said she, "say what you will, I maintain my nurse speaks the
truth, and look upon you as a mere liar." "Madam," replied
Mesrour, "if nurse is so very certain that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is
alive, and Abou Hassan dead, I will lay her what she dares of
it." The nurse was as ready as he; "I dare," said she, "take you
at your word: let us see if you dare unsay it." Mesrour stood to
his word; and they laid a piece of gold brocade with silver
flowers before the caliph and the princess.
The apartment from which the caliph and Zobeide set out, though
distant from Abou Hassan's, was nevertheless just opposite, so
that he perceived them coming, and told his wife that he was much
mistaken if the caliph and Zobeide, preceded by Mesrour, and
followed by a great number of women, were not about to do them
the honour of a visit. She looked through a lattice and saw them,
seemed frightened, and cried out, "What shall we do? we are
ruined." "Fear nothing," replied Abou Hassan. "Have you forgotten
already what we agreed on? We will both feign ourselves dead, and
you shall see all will go well. At the slow rate they are coming,
we shall be ready before they reach the door." Accordingly, Abou
Hassan and his wife wrapped up and covered themselves with the
pieces of brocade, and waited patiently for their visitors.
Mesrour, who came first, opened the door, and the caliph and
Zobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were
struck with horror, and stood motionless, at the spectacle which
presented itself to their view, not knowing what to think. At
length Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, "Alas! they
are both dead! You have done much," continued she, looking at the
caliph and Mesrour, "to endeavour to make me believe that my dear
slave was dead, and I find it is true: grief at the loss of her
husband has certainly killed her." "Say rather, madam," answered
the caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat
died first, "the afflicted Abou Hassan sunk under his grief, and
could not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to confess
that you have lost your wager, and that your palace of paintings
is mine."
"Hold there," answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by
the caliph; "I will maintain you have lost your garden of
pleasures. Abou Hassan died first; since my nurse told you, as
well as me, that she saw her alive, and weeping for the death of
her husband."
The dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between
Mesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they; each
affirmed to have won, and at length they proceeded to abuse each
other very grossly.
At last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think
that Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she
had won. In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the
truth, he advanced towards the corpses, and sat down at the head,
searching for some expedient that might gain him the victory over
Zobeide. "I swear," cried he presently after, "by the holy name
of God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him who can
tell me which of these two died first."
No sooner were these words out of the caliph's mouth, than he
heard a voice under Abou Hassan's piece of brocade say,
"Commander of the faithful, I died first, give me the thousand
pieces of gold." At the same instant Abou Hassan threw off the
piece of brocade, and springing up, prostrated himself at his
feet, while his wife did the same to Zobeide, keeping on her
piece of brocade out of decency. The princess at first shrieked
out, but recovering herself, expressed great joy to see her dear
slave rise again, just when she was almost inconsolable at having
seen her dead. "Ah! wicked Nouzhatoul-aouadat," cried she, "what
have I suffered for your sake? However, I forgive you from my
heart, since you are not dead."
The caliph was not so much surprised, when he heard Abou Hassan's
voice: but thought he should have died with laughing at this
unravelling of the mystery, and to hear Abou Hassan ask so
seriously for the thousand pieces of gold. "What, Abou Hassan,"
said he, continuing to laugh aloud, "hast thou conspired against
my life, to kill me a second time with laughing? How came this
thought into your head, to surprise Zobeide and me thus, when we
least thought of such a trick?"
"Commander of the faithful," replied Abou Hassan, "I will declare
to your majesty the whole truth, without the least reserve. Your
majesty knows that I always loved to eat and drink well' and the
wife you gave me rather increased than restrained this
propensity. With these dispositions your majesty may easily
suppose we might spend a good estate; and to make short of my
story, we were not sparing of what your majesty so generously
gave us. This morning, accounting with our caterer, who took care
to provide every thing for us, and paying what we owed him, we
found we had nothing left. Then, reflections on what was past,
and resolutions to manage better for the future, crowded into our
thoughts; we formed a thousand projects, all of which we
rejected. At last, the shame of seeing ourselves reduced to so
low a condition, and not daring to tell your majesty, made us
contrive this stratagem to relieve our necessities, and to divert
you, which we hope your majesty will be pleased to pardon."
The caliph was satisfied with Abou Hassan's sincerity, and
Zobeide, who had till now been very serious, began to laugh at
the thought of Abou Hassan's scheme. The caliph, who had not
ceased laughing at the singularity of the adventure, rising, said
to Abou Hassan and his wife, "Follow me; I will give you the
thousand pieces of gold I promised, for joy to find you are not
dead." Zobeide desired him to let her make her slave a present of
the same sum, for the same reason. By this means Abou Hassan and
his wife Nouzhatoul-aouadat preserved the favour of the caliph
Haroon al Rusheed and the princess Zobeide, and by their
liberalities were enabled to pursue their pleasures.
THE STORY OF ALLA AD DEEN; OR, THE
WONDERFUL LAMP.
In the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the
kingdom of China, the name of which I do not recollect, there
lived a tailor, named Mustapha, who was so poor, that he could
hardly, by his daily labour, maintain himself and his family,
which consisted of a wife and son.
His son, who was called Alla ad Deen, had been brought up in a
very careless and idle manner, and by that means had contracted
many vicious habits. He was wicked, obstinate, and disobedient to
his father and mother, who, when he grew up, could not keep him
within doors. He was in the habit of going out early in the
morning, and would stay out all day, playing in the streets and
public places with idle children of his own age.
When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father not being
able to put him out to any other, took him into his own shop, and
taught him how to use his needle: but neither fair words nor the
fear of chastisement were capable of fixing his lively genius.
All his father's endeavours to keep him to his work were in vain;
for no sooner was his back turned, than he was gone for that day.
Mustapha chastised him, but Alla ad Deen was incorrigible, and
his father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his
idleness: and was so much troubled at not being able to reclaim
him, that it threw him into a fit of sickness, of which he died
in a few months.
The mother, finding that her son would not follow his father's
business, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of trade, and
with the money she received for them, and what she could get by
spinning cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son. Alla ad
Deen, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father,
and who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid
him, he would abuse her, gave himself entirely over to his idle
habits, and was never out of the streets from his companions.
This course he followed till he was fifteen years old, without
giving his mind to any useful pursuit, or the least reflection on
what would become of him. In this situation, as he was one day
playing according to custom in the street, with his vagabond
associates, a stranger passing by stood to observe him.
This stranger was a sorcerer, called by the writer of this story,
the African magician; he was a native of Africa, and had been but
two days arrived from thence.
The African magician, who was a good physiognomist, observing in
Alla ad Deen's countenance something absolutely necessary for the
execution of the design he was engaged in, inquired artfully
about his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and
when he had learned all he desired to know, went up to him, and
taking him aside from his comrades, said, "Child, was not your
father called Mustapha the tailor?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy;
"but he has been dead a long time."
At these words, the African magician threw his arms about Alla ad
Deen's neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes.
Alla ad Deen, who observed his tears, asked him what made him
weep. "Alas! my son," cried the African magician with a sigh,
"how can I forbear?
"I am your uncle; your worthy father was my own brother. I have
been many years abroad, and now I am come home with the hopes of
seeing him, you tell me he is dead. I assure you it is a sensible
grief to me to be deprived of the comfort I expected. But it is
some relief to my affliction, that as far as I can remember him,
I knew you at first sight, you are so like him; and I see I am
not deceived." Then he asked Alla ad Deen, putting his hand into
his purse, where his mother lived; and as soon as he had informed
him, gave him a handful of small money, saying, "Go, my son, to
your mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will visit
her to-morrow, if I have time, that I may have the satisfaction
of seeing where my good brother lived so long, and ended his
days."
As soon as the African magician left his newly-adopted nephew, Alla ad
Deen ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle had given
him. "Mother," said he, "have I an uncle?" "No, child," replied his
mother, "you have no uncle by your father's side, or mine." "I am just
now come," said Alla ad Deen, "from a man who says he is my uncle by
my father's side, assuring me that he is his brother. He cried and
kissed me when I told him my father was dead; and to shew you that
what I tell you is truth," added he, pulling out the money, "see what
he has given me. He charged me to give his love to you, and to tell
you, if he has any time to-morrow, he will come and pay you a visit,
that he may see the house my father lived and died in." "Indeed,
child," replied the mother, "your father had a brother, but he has
been dead a long time, and I never heard of another."
The mother and son talked no more then of the African magician;
but the next day Alla ad Deen's uncle found him playing in
another part of the town with other children, and embracing him
as before, put two pieces of gold into his hand, and said to him,
"Carry this, child, to your mother, tell her that I will come and
see her tonight, and bid her get us something for supper; but
first shew me the house where you live."
After Alla ad Deen had shewed the African magician the house, he
carried the two pieces of gold to his mother, and when he had
told her of his uncle's intention, she went out and bought
provisions; and considering she wanted various utensils, borrowed
them of her neighbours. She spent the whole day in preparing the
supper; and at night when it was ready, said to her son, "Perhaps
your uncle knows not how to find our house; go and bring him if
you meet with him."
Though Alla ad Deen had shewed the magician the house, he was
ready to go, when somebody knocked at the door, which he
immediately opened: and the magician came in loaded with wine,
and all sorts of fruits, which he brought for a dessert.
After the African magician had given what he brought into Alla ad
Deen's hands, he saluted his mother, and desired her to shew him
the place where his brother Mustapha used to sit on the sofa; and
when she had so done, he fell down and kissed it several times,
crying out with tears in his eyes, "My poor brother! How unhappy
am I, not to have come soon enough to give you one last embrace."
Alla ad Deen's mother desired him to sit down in the same place,
but he declined. "No," said he, "I shall take care how I do that;
but give me leave to sit opposite to it, that although I am
deprived of the satisfaction of seeing the master of a family so
dear to me, I may at least have the pleasure of beholding the
place where he used to sit." The widow pressed him no farther,
but left him at liberty to sit where he pleased.
When the magician had made choice of a place, and sat down, he
began to enter into discourse with Alla ad Deen's mother. "My
good sister," said he, "do not be surprised at your never having
seen me all the time you have been married to my brother Mustapha
of happy memory. I have been forty years absent from this
country, which is my native place, as well as my late brother's;
and during that time have travelled into the Indies, Persia,
Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, have resided in the finest towns of
those countries; and afterwards crossed over into Africa, where I
made a longer stay. At last, as it is natural for a man, how
distant soever it may be, to remember his native country,
relations, and acquaintance, I was desirous to see mine again,
and to embrace my dear brother; and finding I had strength enough
to undertake so long a journey, I immediately made the necessary
preparations, and set out. I will not tell you the length of time
it took me, all the obstacles I met with, and what fatigues I
have endured, to come hither; but nothing ever mortified and
afflicted me so much, as hearing of my brother's death, for whom
I always had a brotherly love and friendship. I observed his
features in the face of my nephew, your son, and distinguished
him among a number of children with whom he was at play; he can
tell you how I received the most melancholy news that ever
reached my ears. But God be praised for all things! It is a
comfort for me to find, as it were, my brother in a son, who has
his most remarkable features."
The African magician perceiving that the widow began to weep at
the remembrance of her husband, changed the conversation, and
turning towards her son, asked him his name. "I am called Alla ad
Deen," said he. "Well, Alla ad Deen," replied the magician, "what
business do you follow? Are you of any trade?"
At this question the youth hung down his head, and was not a
little abashed when his mother answered, "Alla ad Deen is an idle
fellow; his father, when alive, strove all he could to teach him
his trade, but could not succeed; and since his death,
notwithstanding all I can say to him, he does nothing but idle
away his time in the streets, as you saw him, without considering
he is no longer a child; and if you do not make him ashamed of
it, I despair of his ever coming to any good. He knows that his
father left him no fortune, and sees me endeavour to get bread by
spinning cotton; for my part, I am resolved one of these days to
turn him out of doors, and let him provide for himself."
After these words, Alla ad Deen's mother burst into tears; and
the magician said, "This is not well, nephew; you must think of
helping yourself, and getting your livelihood. There are many
sorts of trades, consider if you have not an inclination to some
of them; perhaps you did not like your father's, and would prefer
another: come, do not disguise your sentiments from me; I will
endeavour to help you." But finding that Alla ad Deen returned no
answer, "If you have no mind," continued he, "to learn any
handicraft, I will take a shop for you, furnish it with all sorts
of fine stuffs and linens; and with the money you make of them
lay in fresh goods, and then you will live in an honourable way.
Consult your inclination, and tell me freely what you think of my
proposal: you shall always find me ready to keep my word."
This plan greatly flattered Alla ad Deen, who hated work, but had
sense enough to know that such shops were much frequented, and
the owners respected. He told the magician he had a greater
inclination to that business than to any other, and that he
should be much obliged to him for his kindness. "Since this
profession is agreeable to you," said the African magician, "I
will carry you with me to-morrow, clothe you as handsomely as the
best merchants in the city, and afterwards we will think of
opening a shop as I mentioned."
The widow, who never till then could believe that the magician
was her husband's brother, no longer doubted after his promises
of kindness to her son. She thanked him for his good intentions;
and after having exhorted Alla ad Deen to render himself worthy
of his uncle's favour by good behaviour, served up supper, at
which they talked of several indifferent matters; and then the
magician, who saw that the night was pretty far advanced, took
his leave, and retired.
He came again the next day, as he had promised, and took Alla ad
Deen with him to a merchant, who sold all sorts of clothes for
different ages and ranks ready made, and a variety of fine
stuffs. He asked to see some that suited Alla ad Deen in size;
and after choosing a suit for himself which he liked best, and
rejecting others which he did not think handsome enough, he bade
Alla ad Deen choose those he preferred. Alla ad Deen, charmed
with the liberality of his new uncle, made choice of one, and the
magician immediately paid for it.
When Alla ad Deen found himself so handsomely equipped, he
returned his uncle thanks; who promised never to forsake him, but
always to take him along with him; which he did to the most
frequented places in the city, and particularly where the
principal merchants kept their shops.
When he brought him into the street where they sold the richest
stuffs, and finest linens, he said to Alla ad Deen, "As you are
soon to be a merchant, it is proper you should frequent these
shops, and be acquainted with them." He then shewed him the
largest and finest mosques, carried him to the khans or inns
where the merchants and travellers lodged, and afterwards to the
sultan's palace, where he had free access; and at last brought
him to his own khan, where meeting with some merchants he had
become acquainted with since his arrival, he gave them a treat,
to bring them and his pretended nephew acquainted.
This entertainment lasted till night, when Alla ad Deen would
have taken leave of his uncle to go home; the magician would not
let him go by himself, but conducted him to his mother, who, as
soon as she saw him so well dressed, was transported with joy,
and bestowed a thousand blessings upon the magician, for being at
so great an expense upon her child. "Generous relation!" said
she, "I know not how to thank you for your liberality! I know
that my son is not deserving of your favours; and were he ever so
grateful, and answered your good intentions, he would be unworthy
of them. I thank you with all my soul, and wish you may live long
enough to witness my son's gratitude, which he cannot better shew
than by regulating his conduct by your good advice." "Alla ad
Deen," replied the magician, "is a good boy, and I believe we
shall do very well; but I am sorry for one thing, which is, that
I cannot perform to-morrow what I promised, because, as it is
Friday, the shops will be shut up, and therefore we cannot hire
or furnish one, but must wait till Saturday. I will, however,
call on him to-morrow and take him to walk in the gardens, where
people of the best fashion generally resort. Perhaps he has never
seen these amusements, he has only hitherto been among children;
but now he must see men." The African magician took his leave of
the mother and the son, and retired. Alla ad Deen, who was
overjoyed to be so well clothed, anticipated the pleasure of
walking in the gardens. He had never been out of the town, nor
seen the environs, which were very beautiful and pleasant.