"'Whenever you have any sorrow or any desire, come to the foot of a

palm-tree, cut a leaf off it, burn it, and call for me--I am named the

Peri Malikatada--and I will haste immediately to your assistance. I

grant the same power to your little girl when she attains the age of

reason.'

"My mother never importuned the Peri except for the care of my

education; and I, my lord, before I knew you, had never addressed

myself to her, for I knew no desire, nor had my heart formed any wish.

From that time I fear I have fatigued her, so many troubles and

inquietudes have seized upon my soul. It was she, as you will judge,

who made Diafer known to me, who dictated to me the answers I gave the

sages, who informed me of the talismans, and delivered this one to me.

It was she, likewise, who caused the Governor of Dioul to be arrested,

and who demands his life of you in return for the golden fish which I

have given you from him; she also would have given me----" she paused.

"Go on, beauteous Damake," said Nourgehan, with tenderness; "if you

love me, can you conceal anything from me?"

"She would have given me," resumed Damake, "a talisman of her

composition that should force you always to love me, but I have

refused it. Can there be any happy talisman in love but the heart?"

Nourgehan, struck with so many virtues, and such proofs of her

attachment to him, would no longer defer his happiness. He immediately

caused his whole Court, and all the grandees of his kingdom, to be

assembled.

"I may boast with reason," said he to them, "that I am the happiest

Prince upon earth: I possess a bracelet which preserves me from all

fear of poison; all the treasures of the sea are mine by the means of

a fish, which at my command will fetch them from the bottom of the

waves; Damake has given me this poniard, which renders whoever I

please invisible. The proof that I can make before your eyes of this

magnificent talisman will convince you of their virtues better than

the golden fish, which it would be more tedious and difficult to

exhibit."

He drew his poniard as he spoke, and disappeared from their sight. The

astonishment of the spectators was not yet dissipated, when he

disappeared with all his military officers, and said to his

magistrates, "Do you see such a general, such an officer that has

served so long in my army?" To every question they answered No. He

ceased then to be visible to the eyes of his warriors, and disappeared

with his Viziers and all the Doctors of the Law, designing by that

means to convince them fully, and leave no room for jealousy and

suspicion. "Return thanks, then, with me," added he, "to Allah and His

holy Prophet, for having made me the most powerful Prince upon earth."

He performed his action of thanks with a fervour worthy of the bounty

which Heaven had shown him, and all his courtiers followed his

example. When he had fulfilled that important duty, he said to them,

"The greatest vice of the human heart is ingratitude: it is to Damake

that I owe these powerful treasures; her beauty alone, her merit and

her virtue, would deserve the gratitude I shall my whole life preserve

for her; but gratitude ought to be accompanied with more than words: I

will this day unite her to me for ever."

All the Court and the grandees applauded his choice; and Nourgehan,

having commanded Damake to be brought, she appeared with all those

modest graces that nature had adorned her. When the Prince had given

her his hand in presence of the Great Imam, Damake, who had prostrated

herself before him, said with an audible voice,

"When I gave an account of the talismans of the great Seidel-Beckir, I

informed you, my lord, that there were four still subsisting in the

world: you have yet but three."

"Have I not riches enough in possessing thee?" returned Nourgehan.

"Thou art reckoned, perhaps, for the fourth; but they are not all of

half thy value."

"No, my lord," resumed Damake, casting her eyes upon the ground, and

presenting him with a ring, "this was wanting. This ring of steel

gives you a power of penetrating into the secrets of every heart.

Others, in my place, might look upon this talisman as a danger, but I

shall look upon it as a blessing if you still condescend to interest

yourself in the sentiments that you have for ever graved in mine; and

if I have the misfortune not to deserve that interesting curiosity, it

will at least make known to you, without any doubts, the characters

and the fidelity of your subjects."

At that instant the Peri Malikatada appeared with her whole Court, and

desired the King to pass into a garden, which by her power, and that

of the genii, she had adorned with exquisite taste and magnificence.

Here she honoured the nuptials with her presence, and Nourgehan lived

happily ever afterwards, more happy in the love and counsels of Damake

than in all the talismans upon earth, if he could have joined them to

those which he already possessed.

[Illustration]

The Story of Bohetzad;

OR,

The Lost Child.

[Illustration]

The kingdom of Dineroux comprehended all Syria and the isles of India

lying at the mouth of the Persian Gulf. This powerful State was

formerly subject to King Bohetzad, who resided in the city of

Issessara. Nothing could equal the power of this monarch. His troops

were without number, his treasures inexhaustible, and the population

of his dominions was equal to their fertility. His whole kingdom,

divided into ten great departments, was entrusted to the

administration of ten Viziers, of whom his divan was composed. This

Prince used often to repair to the chase as a recreation after the

cares of government.

One day, while he entered with his usual keenness into this exercise,

he allowed himself to be carried so far in pursuit of a stag which had

darted into the forest, and left his attendants at so great a

distance, that, upon coming out of the wood, he could perceive none of

his people; he had also lost sight of his prey. And while he

endeavoured to find out the east of the place he was in, he perceived

at a distance a pretty large troop of men. He approached them, and as

he drew near he could distinguish a body of forty knights,[11]

surrounding a splendid litter, the brightness of which was heightened

by the rays of the sun. This carriage was made of rock crystal, the

mouldings and hinges were of carved gold, and the roof, in form of a

crown, was made of wood of aloes, having cornices of silver. This

litter resembled in shape a small antique temple, but so brilliant

that the eye was quite dazzled with it. A prodigy of this kind in the

midst of a desert, astonished the King, and at the same time excited

his curiosity. He came up and saluted the convoy, and, addressing his

discourse to the knight who held the reins of the mules,

"Friends," said he, "be so kind as to tell me the meaning of all this

equipage, and the name of the person to whom it belongs."

[Footnote 11: Knights. The very ancient knighthood of India existed at

this time. Those who devoted themselves to this manner of life came,

armed from head to foot, to offer their services to the different

Princes. See the "Memoirs of Hyder Ali Khan."]

Notwithstanding the civil and polite manner in which the monarch spoke

this, yet, as the hunting dress did not express the dignity of the

wearer, they answered, "What matters it to you?"

Bohetzad was not discouraged with so dry an answer, but still insisted

with politeness, and even earnestness, for a more satisfactory reply.

He who appeared to be the leader of the troop then presented to him

the point of his spear, and said,

"Go on your way, audacious fellow! otherwise, if your curiosity

becomes more impertinent, be assured it will cost you your life."

This insolent behaviour excited the indignation of the King. He went

up to the knight who thus threatened him, with that air of confidence

and that commanding tone, the habit of which he had acquired in the

exercise of absolute power.

"Slave of my throne!" said he to him, "dost thou not know Bohetzad?

But, had I been only a common man, after speaking to you in so modest

and friendly a manner, ought you to have threatened me with death?"

At the very name of Bohetzad, the knights alighted and prostrated

themselves on the earth.

"Sire," said one of the oldest of them, "pardon an answer which we

could not think addressed to the greatest monarch of the earth; for it

was very possible not to recognize your Majesty in a hunting dress,

and without attendants."

"Rise," said the King, "and gratify my curiosity. Who is the person in

that litter, and whither are you conducting it?"

"Sire," answered the knight, "it is the daughter of Asphand, your

Grand Vizier: we are conducting her to the Prince of Babylon, to whom

she is going to be married."

During this, the daughter of the Vizier, uneasy on account of the

delay, presented her head at the curtain of the litter, in order to

get information, and was perceived by Bohetzad. Whatever pains she had

taken to prevent herself from being seen, her extraordinary beauty

struck the Sovereign. His heart received a fatal wound: his passion,

arrived at its height, aspired after gratification from the very

moment of its existence; and Bohetzad, determined to make sure of the

object of it, made use of his absolute authority, and spoke thus to

the conductor of the litter:

"I command you to take the road to Issessara, and to conduct the

daughter of my Grand Vizier to my palace."

The commander of the troop thought it necessary to make some reply to

his Majesty.

"Sire," said he, "your Vizier is your slave as well as we; and

therefore, if we return his daughter to his own palace, she will

continue there in equal subjection to your will."

"But my Vizier has disposed of his daughter without my consent, and I

do not owe him the attention which you propose I should pay him."

"Sire," replied the knight, "your Grand Vizier Asphand has always been

held in the highest estimation, and has had the honour to enjoy the

confidence of your Majesty. One instance of violence exercised against

him may affect his reputation, and cause him to lose, in the opinion

of the public, that credit which it is your interest that he should

enjoy."

"All his credit depends on me, and I do not detract from it by doing

him the honour to marry his daughter."

The oldest, and likewise the best informed of the knights, still

ventured to speak.

"Sire," said he, "precipitation is dangerous; it often draws

repentance after it: your slaves beseech your Majesty to reflect

maturely on this."

"I have reflected already, audacious old man!" replied the Prince in

anger; "what caution should I observe with my slave? Obey."

Being able to restrain his impatience no longer, he himself seized the

bridle of the mules, and directed their steps towards that part of the

forest where he presumed his people would be assembled at the

appointed rendezvous. He soon found himself at the tent which they had

set up, and he ordered all his suite to accompany the Princess in the

litter to his palace. When the retinue was arrived, the King ordered

the chief of his eunuchs to bring the Cadi, who instantly appeared,

and drew up a contract of marriage between Bohetzad and the Princess

Baherjoa, daughter of Asphand the Vizier.

While the King was taken up with the ceremonies of the marriage, the

forty knights returned to the palace of the Grand Vizier, being forced

to abandon the litter, and the Princess whom they were conducting to

Babylon. The minister was confounded at so speedy a return. Having set

out from the city of Issessara, how could they come back so soon from

Babylon? He feared that some extraordinary accident had befallen them.

One of the knights came and told what had happened: he exaggerated the

violence and despotic manner of Bohetzad, and filled the mind of the

minister with fear and resentment, although he assured him that the

monarch was that very night to marry his daughter.

"Thus to oppose himself to my disposal of my own family! to carry off

my daughter! to marry her against my will!--in this manner to repay my

services!" said the enraged minister.

Full of a desire of vengeance, he immediately ordered expresses to be

sent to all his friends, the Princes and grandees of his family, to

assemble them at his house. When they were come, he represented to

them the outrage which the King had committed against his daughter,

the Prince of Babylon, and himself. Shame and resentment entered into

every breast. Asphand perceived, from the effect of the relation which

he had made them, that it would be easy to associate them with him in

his schemes of revenge.

"Princes and lords!" said he to them, "the King, occupied with his

pleasures, is not delicate about the means of gratification; and, as a

recompense for my labours, he hesitates not to expose me to the

disgrace of an irreparable insult. I am nothing but a vile slave in

his eyes. Thinks he that my daughter is obliged to share his unsteady

attachment? You yourselves will not be safe from this dishonour; your

wives and daughters will not be spared. His torrent of iniquity will

discharge itself on you, if we endeavour not to stop its course."

The relations and friends of the Vizier entered into his interests,

and a deliberation was held concerning the measures which were to be

taken. One of them, deeply skilled in politics, thus gave his opinion:

"Vizier, write to the King, and express to him how sensible you are of

the unexpected honour which he has done you, to which you could never

have had the smallest pretensions. Along with this letter send another

to your daughter, in which you must seem delighted with her good

fortune. Supplicate Heaven with her, to pour down happiness upon a

monarch so beloved by his people. Accompany these despatches with

magnificent presents, and Bohetzad, blinded by his passion, will

readily believe everything which can flatter it. You will take

advantage of this security to leave him at the first opportunity,

under pretence of attending to his business; and, having secured

yourself against any sudden attack from him, transmit to all the

Princes, the Governors, and people entrusted with the management of

the finances, alarming accounts of the situation of the kingdom.

Represent to them the danger of the State, while the government, is in

the hands of a young Prince, addicted to the gratification of his

passions, and incapable of rewarding the services done him, which he

only repays with violence and disgrace, being guided by no law but the

dictates of a will as depraved as it is absolute."

The Grand Vizier and the rest of the assembly adopted this plan. They

all agreed to embrace every opportunity which might present itself of

preparing the minds of the people, without exposing themselves to

danger, and to continue at Issessara when Asphand had left it, for the

purpose of giving him information and directing his conduct. These

resolutions being entered into, the assembly quickly broke up, that

they might give no room for suspicion; and Asphand wrote to the King

in the following terms:

"Mighty King, monarch of two seas! your slave, already elevated by you

to the place of Grand Vizier, and honoured with the title of Prince,

did not expect the distinguished honour of becoming your relation.

Infinitely obliged by this new favour, I offer up to the God of heaven

the most ardent wishes that He would continually heap on your Majesty

new marks of His kindness; that He would prolong your days, and grant

you all the blessings of a kingdom which shall not be shaken to the

latest posterity. My duty hitherto has been to labour for maintaining

both external and internal peace in your dominions, by the wise

administration of justice, and by defending your frontiers from the

enemy. I filled the station of your First Vizier; the duties thereof

are now become more sacred to me; the honour of a connection with you

gives me a personal interest in their success; and my daughter and I

will only be slaves more faithfully attached to your person and

interests."

The letter to Baherjoa contained congratulations on her good fortune,

and was as artfully expressed as the one addressed to her spouse.

Asphand caused the first officer of his household to deliver these

letters, and accompanied them with a magnificent present. The young

son of the Vizier joined the envoy; they went together to the King's

palace, and prostrated themselves before him.

Bohetzad, intoxicated with the good fortune which he enjoyed, did not

in the least suspect the false declarations of the Vizier. He ordered

his son to be clothed with the richest robe, and a thousand pieces of

gold to be given to the officer who was entrusted with the message.

Scarcely were they gone out, when the oldest of the Viziers came to

pay his court to the King. The monarch received him with his usual

goodness, made him sit down, and communicated to him the happiness

which he expected to enjoy in the possession of his lovely spouse;

for, though he had gained her by an act of violence, he imagined that

his happiness could be obscured by no cloud.

"The attachment shown me by Asphand," said he, "removes my fears

concerning the resentment which I might suppose him to possess: here

are his letters; read them, and you will see how well he is pleased

with this alliance. Besides, the magnificence of his presents exceeds

even the force of his expressions."

The old minister, after reading the letters, continued thoughtful, and

with downcast eyes.

"Are you not satisfied with what you have read?" said the King.

"A dangerous reptile," replied the minister, "when it means to

introduce itself anywhere, does not try to frighten by its odious

hissings: it creeps in artfully under the folds of its flexible and

thin body; its scales are glittering and smooth; its looks are soft

and fawning, and it takes care to conceal its treacherous and venomous

sting. The letters of Asphand are studied: doubt not that you have

offended; and the pretended softness of his expressions only conceals

a scheme of revenge, the consequences of which you ought to guard

against and prevent."

Bohetzad, entirely occupied with his love, and supposing that the

minister who thus spoke to him was influenced by motives of jealousy,

paid no regard to the advice, which proceeded from attachment, zeal,

and prudence, but allowed himself to be blinded concerning the conduct

of Asphand. The latter, in prosecution of his plan, and under pretence

of appeasing some rumours in certain parts of the kingdom, left the

capital, in a few months after, with his whole retinue. As soon as he

saw himself out of the reach of power, he communicated to the

governors of the provinces the affront which he had received; he

excited them to revolt, by inspiring them with a fear that they would

all meet with a treatment similar to that which he had received; and

to determine them, he calumniated, in every instance, the person and

government of Bohetzad.

On receiving the messengers of the Grand Vizier, the grandees of the

kingdom, enraged against a Prince whose administration was held forth

in such odious colours, concerted together, from one province to

another, and assured Asphand that, upon the first signal given by him,

they would take the field with the troops under their command. The

Vizier at the same time warned the Princes who remained at Issessara

to hold themselves in readiness against the day on which he should

come to complete his revenge, and to free the State from a tyrant who

was sunk in effeminacy.

The plot was executed before Bohetzad had the smallest suspicion of

it. The city of Issessara was completely invested by the army of

Asphand. On receiving this news, the King armed in haste; he ordered

the troops who were about his person to follow him; but they had been

gained over, and were devoted to his enemy. He saw no safety for

himself but in flight. He saddled, with his own hands, one of his

finest coursers; and, taking Baherjoa behind him, endeavoured to gain

the desert. He made a passage for himself through the midst of his

mutinous subjects, whom he trod under his feet. The young hero, whose

courage seemed only to be increased by love, burst like a torrent

through a troop of those who wished to interrupt his passage; his

invincible spear spared none of the rebels; and his horse, as vigorous

as swift, soon carried him out of sight of his enemies.

He was now in the midst of the desert; and, night obliging him to

allow some repose to his wife, fatigued with so violent an expedition,

he stopped at the foot of a frightful mountain. On this spot the

Queen, exhausted with weariness, gave birth to her first-born child,

and the Prince received in his arms a young boy, no less beautiful

than his mother.

The tender pair loaded him with caresses, and soon forgot, in their

new joy, the fatigue, uneasiness, and horror of their situation. The

child was wrapped in a part of the Queen's robes; and, in this

solitude, they enjoyed a profound sleep. The returning day invited

them, however, to pursue their journey. The affectionate mother nursed

her infant tenderly, but it pined away, and the mother herself was in

danger. Bohetzad then saw himself under the cruel necessity of

sacrificing nature to duty. He perceived a limpid fountain, on the

borders of which there was a green bank, defended from the rays of the

sun by the neighbouring willows. Here the unhappy parents abandoned to

the care of Providence the object of their affection, having first

watered it with their tears.

"Great Allah!" said the afflicted mother, "Thou who formerly watched

over the young Ishmael, take care of this innocent creature. Send the

preserving angel to him. We have no hope but in Thy succour."

Sighs prevented her from saying more. They both tore themselves away

from this dreadful sacrifice, and committed this sacred deposit into

the hands of its Creator.

The noise they had made in coming thither had frightened away from the

brink a hind, who, along with her fawns, was refreshing herself at

this exuberant fountain. As soon as they were gone, she returned, and

approached the languishing creature, which seemed about to lose for

ever the little strength which remained. A powerful instinct led this

animal to give the child that nourishment which was reserved only for

her young ones. She fed quietly around her nursling, and left the

place no more. The wild beasts of the forest, it appeared, had

abandoned to her the enjoyment of this happy spot, although so

necessary to the supply of their wants, amid the burning sands and

parched deserts with which they were surrounded. Nevertheless, men

came to disturb their repose.

It was a band of robbers, whom thirst had brought into these places.

They saw a child wrapped in rich swaddling-clothes, but still more

remarkable for the beauty of its features. The leader of the banditti

approached it, took it up, and sent it straightway to his wife, that

she might pay it the necessary attentions, and educate it as if it had

been their own son. When the wife saw it she was moved with its

innocent beauty, entered into the benevolent views of her husband, and

immediately procured for their adopted son the best nurse in the

horde.

Having seen the son of Bohetzad in safe hands, let us now follow the

steps of those illustrious travellers.

Full of grief for the sacrifice which they had been forced to make,

the King and Queen continued their journey in sadness till they

reached the capital of Persia, where Kassera then reigned.

This powerful monarch received the fugitive Prince and his charming

spouse with the respect which was due from a crowned head to a great

Sovereign, his ally, whose rebellious subjects had revolted under the

standard of a criminal usurper. To Bohetzad he allotted an apartment

in his palace as magnificent as his own, and to Baherjoa one equal to

that of his favourite Sultana. Such were the riches and magnificence

of the palace in which the King of Dineroux and his wife now were,

that, besides the magnificent apartments in which they were lodged

themselves, there were twenty-four others occupied by as many ladies

belonging to the Sultan, each of whom was served by fifty slaves of

their own sex, in the bloom of youth and of the most exquisite beauty.

The treasures of the East seemed to have been exhausted in beautifying

these stately dwellings. The gardens were full of the rarest and the

most gaudy flowers; the waters, whose courses were distributed with

great art, presented a magnificent scene to the eye; the trees gave at

once, by the beauty of their fruit and the thickness of their foliage,

the idea of plenty and the delight of repose; the birds, with the

variety of their plumage and their song, enchanted the inhabitants of

these happy regions. Everything, in short, concurred to display the

riches of the great monarch of Persia, whose immense power was further

displayed by an army of two hundred thousand men which constituted his

life guard. A Prince so powerful and magnificent need spare nothing in

treating, in a manner suitable to their rank, the illustrious guests

whom he had received into his palace.

At the same time that he ordered a powerful army to be assembled on

the frontiers, with the necessary stores and military engines, he

endeavoured to dispel the melancholy of the husband and wife by

feasts, which displayed the greatest splendour and variety. But

generosity and greatness of soul were not the only cause of his

attentions; a less noble but more powerful feeling had taken

possession of his heart. He was enamoured of Baherjoa, whose beauty

was superior to that of all the wives in his seraglio. His passion for

her was disguised under the veil of friendship; but, from the

profusion which he displayed on every occasion, the delicacy of his

attentions, and the care which he took to anticipate her wishes, it

was easy to discover the love by which he was actuated. The sad

Baherjoa, whose attention was occupied solely by the loss of her son

and the misfortunes of her husband, was far from ascribing any of the

attentions which she met with to this motive; her soul, weighed down

with grief, was incapable of enjoying any of the pleasures which were

presented to her; her heart, sincerely affected, was inaccessible to

every impression but that with which it was already occupied. Her son

abandoned in the desert to the care of Providence, and her husband

reduced by her father to the necessity of asking succour from a

foreign King, were the only objects which engrossed her thoughts.

In the meantime, the army which Bohetzad was to command was assembled.

He took leave of Kassera to put himself at the head of this formidable

body, and soon penetrated into the heart of Syria. Asphand, the

usurper, being informed of the danger which threatened him,

communicated it to his associates, assembled them as quickly as

possible, and met his enemy at the head of two hundred thousand men.

The armies were now in sight of one another. The centre of Bohetzad's

army was commanded by an experienced Vizier of the Persian King.

Bohetzad himself, at the head of a chosen body of knights, was

everywhere to give orders. He suddenly began the combat on the right

by attacking the opposite wing of the enemy with such fury that they

were obliged to fall back upon the centre, and were thrown into

confusion and disorder. The King of Dineroux lost not a moment: he

advanced his main body towards that of the enemy as if he meant to

attack it; but, frugal of the blood of his subjects, whose lives he

wished to spare, he made them halt, and ordered his left wing to

attack the right wing of the enemy: they gave way and fell back in

disorder, so that three-fourths of Asphand's army remained surrounded.

The usurper endeavoured in vain to rally his troops, whom an attack

equally prudent and vigorous had thrown into disorder. Fear, and above

all remorse, disarmed them. A pardon being offered, they accepted it;

and, that they might appear less unworthy of it, they unanimously

delivered up the ringleaders of the revolt. Asphand, his family, and

his principal associates, were put to death on the field of battle.

This victory decided anew the fate of the kingdom of Dineroux, which

again submitted to the laws of its rightful Sovereign. The monarch

returned to his capital, re-established order throughout his empire,

and contrived proper means for testifying his gratitude to the

Sovereign who had given him such powerful assistance.

He determined that the most intelligent of his Viziers should go into

Persia, at the head of twelve thousand men. Twenty elephants, loaded

with magnificent presents, were to follow in his train. At the same

time, he was charged with a more delicate commission. He was to pass

through the desert in which the son of Baherjoa had been abandoned,

and endeavour to find out the place near the fountain which had served

him for a cradle. He was to make inquiry of every living soul he might

meet on the road, in order to get information concerning the fate of

this precious deposit; and having found him, to carry him to the arms

of his tender mother, whom he was to bring with him also to Issessara.

But many obstacles stood in the way of these things. The prudent envoy

caused the whole desert to be searched, but to no purpose: he did not

succeed so well in finding the child as in bringing back the mother.

Kassera, desperately in love with this Princess, could not think of

parting with her. On the arrival of the ambassador, with presents from

the King of Dineroux, and a commission to bring away the Queen, he

felt some struggles in his heart; but love triumphed over them. This

imperious passion magnified, in his eyes, the good offices he had

done, and made the giving up of a woman seem but a poor return for

them. In a word, he renounced the glorious title of a generous

protector for that of a base ravisher of the wife of his ally.

Nevertheless, he appeared to receive with gratitude the embassy of

Bohetzad, and the presents with which it was accompanied. Meanwhile,

he was informed that the auxiliary troops, which he had furnished this

monarch, had returned into Persia. The officers who commanded them

extolled to the skies the bravery, the abilities, and the magnificence

of Bohetzad. They returned from his dominions, delighted with himself,

loaded with kindness, and astonished at the power with which he was

surrounded, and the resources of the country over which he reigned.

These universal reports raised an unusual conflict in the soul of

Kassera. He was not accustomed to victory over himself, for, till that

moment, he had yielded to every inclination. But he must now either

give up a violent passion, or the title of the benefactor of a

Sovereign equal to himself in dignity and in power, and that, too, at

the hazard of drawing upon Persia the scourge of a cruel war, and of

seeing all Asia in dreadful confusion.

"Be ashamed, Kassera," said he to himself, "of the guilty designs you

have formed. Return thanks to fortune for the favour it has done you,

in opening your eyes to the folly of your conduct. May the King of

Dineroux for ever remain ignorant that, forgetting what you owe both

to yourself and him, you have dared to covet a blessing which he holds

so dear. Remember the benefit you have derived from encountering

difficulties which have recalled you to your duty. Oh! absolute power!

how much art thou to be dreaded by the man who knows not how to

command himself! Allowing myself to be carried away by my desires, I

was about to become criminal, and to show myself unworthy to reign.

But I know how to check my passions and change my projects."

The King of Persia, having taken this resolution, sent immediately for

his principal treasurer, and gave orders that a litter, ornamented

with precious stones, and more splendid than had ever been seen,

should be prepared to carry Baherjoa into her husband's dominions. A

considerable embassy was ordered to follow it, with magnificent

presents. In this manner did Baherjoa begin her journey to Syria,

after being well assured of respect and attachment by the Sovereign

who had now determined to part with her. Bohetzad met his spouse

before she entered Issessara. It is impossible to describe the

transports of this interview. Yet the tender uneasiness of the mother,

respecting the fate of her son, soon disturbed the happiness with

which the pair were intoxicated. Baherjoa offered the greatest reward

to obtain news of her son, and Bohetzad gave orders that the most

minute inquiry should be made. It was by no means probable that he had

been devoured by wild beasts, otherwise some remnants would have been

found, at the first search, of the clothes wherein he was wrapped. A

thousand knights were again dispatched to the desert, and ordered to

spread themselves all around the fountain; but their search was in

vain. Bohetzad concealed their want of success from his inconsolable

spouse, and endeavoured to soften her pain and vexation.

"There is as yet no room for despair," said he to her: "the favour of

Heaven, which did not abandon us amidst the dangers to which we have

been exposed, and which has restored to us the throne whereon we are

now seated, will have preserved the son so dear to our heart. It only

withholds him in order to deliver him to us when we shall have merited

this favour by our submission to its will. To be deprived of him is

grievous, but we are still of an age to expect consolation. Dry up

your tears, my dear Baherjoa; they are the torment of my life."

The Queen appeared somewhat more tranquil, but the wound which her

heart had received could not be so easily closed.

In the meantime, the tender object of their uneasiness, snatched from

the arms of death by the chief of the robbers, and educated by his

wife with all the care of the most tender mother, grew in strength and

beauty. The leisure of his early youth was filled up by reading and

study. He was soon able to engage in those exercises which strengthen

the body; he outstripped all the children of the horde by abilities,

address, strength, and intrepidity, very surprising at his years. He

was also distinguished by an application to study, from which he

derived the greatest advantages, and by punctuality in those duties

which were required of him by a society little suited to him, but of

which chance had made him a member. The chief of these vagabonds,

seeing him so expert in the use of arms and in riding, soon associated

him with himself in his expeditions against the travellers whom

business led into the countries infested by their depredations; and

the young Aladin (for this was his name) showed himself as brave as he

was expert.

One day the troop attacked a caravan returning from India, and which,

as it was loaded with goods of the most valuable kind, a formidable

guard defended from danger. The desire of booty prevented the

vagabonds from thinking of the danger to which they were exposing

themselves. They attacked this convoy with an unusual degree of

boldness, but were soon repulsed. Two-thirds of the troop remained on

the field of battle, and the rest fled. Aladin, as yet young and

inexperienced, drawn on by his valour, was soon surrounded and made

prisoner.

When a robber is taken with arms in his hand he ought to be beheaded.

But the engaging air, the elegance, and beauty of this young Prince,

interested the whole caravan in his favour, and saved him from the

common fate. They did not believe the ingenuous replies which he made.

When questioned about his birth and profession, he declared himself

the son of the chief of the robbers. They could not imagine how this

youth should unite so many natural advantages with an air so

remarkable. He was carried along with the caravan, which soon arrived

at Issessara, where his father Bohetzad held his Court.

The arrival of the caravan afforded a new opportunity of diverting the

attention of the Queen, as yet afflicted with the loss of a son, whom

she could not banish from her memory. The Sovereign sent the chief of

the eunuchs to make choice of such stuffs and valuable articles as

might be most agreeable to Baherjoa. The merchants were eager to

display them before him; but the figure of Aladin, who was there as a

slave, appeared to him so ravishingly beautiful that he attracted his

particular attention. He wished to conduct him to the palace, hoping

that his service might be agreeable to the monarch; so that, after

having purchased what was proper, he returned, together with Aladin,

to the palace, where the King appeared satisfied with his bargains.

"Sire," said the eunuch, "your Majesty seems pleased with what I have

purchased; but the most beautiful article in the _kan_[12] was a young

man of such complete beauty that I thought him the perfect image of

him who is mentioned in the Alcoran, before whom the eleven stars

prostrated themselves, as before the sun and the moon."

[Footnote 12: The _kan_ is a place allotted for the shops of foreign

merchants, where they expose their merchandise for sale.]

The King, curious to see this slave, ordered him to be brought with

his master, and they both quickly appeared before the King.

The appearance of the young stranger did not belie the favourable

character which the chief of the eunuchs had given of him. The King

could not believe that so beautiful a slave could owe his birth to a

class of men so vulgar as that which composed the caravan. He made

inquiry concerning him of their chief, to whom he communicated his

doubts on that point.

"Sire," replied the merchant, "this young man does not in reality

belong to any of us, and we know neither his family nor origin. We

were attacked in the desert by a band of robbers; we defended

ourselves with bravery. Part of them remained on the field of battle,

the rest fled, and left in our hands the young man who now engages

your curiosity. Custom condemned him to death, but we could not think

of inflicting it. We asked him concerning his station and family, and

he told us that he was the son of the chief of these vagabonds. We

know no more of him, and can say nothing more to your Majesty with any

degree of certainty."

"Let him be left here," said the King; "I want him to enter into my

service."

"Your Majesty," replied the chief, "may dispose as you please of all

that belongs to the slaves of your throne."

At that instant Aladin fell at the feet of the monarch, with his face

on the ground, and kissed his robe. The King ordered the chief of the

eunuchs to admit him into the class of slaves which were most

frequently about his person.

Nature spoke in the monarch's heart in favour of his new page. He

never saw him without feeling emotions which he could by no means

account for. He always wished to have him with him; and that which at

first appeared no more than a rising inclination, soon became a very

warm attachment. An interest which he felt very strongly made him

regard with pleasure the progress both of the young Aladin's mind and

body. He admired his application, prudence, discretion, and fidelity,

and already considered his rare virtues as the fruit of his cares.

After long experience of his abilities and activity, he went so far as

to trust him with the superintendence of his finances, and deprived

his Viziers of an administration in which he suspected them. In short,

he decided every affair of importance, by submitting it to the

sagacity of the young Aladin. The confidence of the Sovereign was not

misplaced. The more he trusted the reason and wisdom of his favourite,

the more the happiness of his people, the prosperity of the realm, and

his revenues were increased. His confidence in a short time knew no

bounds. Aladin became as dear to his father as if he had known himself

to be so in reality, and the influence of the Viziers was lost in that

of the young minister.

Jealous of a power which they had lost, the ten Viziers assembled in

secret for the purpose of contriving the means of gratifying their

ambition and their avarice. They determined, at any rate, to hasten

the ruin of their hated rival; and, unfortunately, he himself seemed

to furnish a favourable opportunity for this purpose.

A grand entertainment was given in the palace. Aladin was naturally

sober; but, while he sought only to participate in the pleasure of the

guests, he indulged himself in drink, with so much the greater

security that he was not accustomed to it, and was ignorant of its

effects. At the end of the repast he wanted to retire to his own

apartment. He staggered, his eyes grew dim, and he lost the use of his

senses. The first apartment which came in his way seemed to be made

ready for him. It was a very rich one, and lighted by a great number

of wax candles set in lustres. But Aladin saw nothing; he only sought

repose, and having found a sofa, he threw himself upon it and fell

asleep.

There were no slaves there to inform him of his mistake. They were

enjoying the feast, and only returned to the apartment, which they had

left open, to fill the pots with perfumes, and prepare, according to

the custom of the East, a collation of different sherbets and dried

sweetmeats. The hangings concealed the sofa on which Aladin lay.

All these preparations being finished, the King and Queen retired to

their apartment. Bohetzad approached the sofa, opened the curtains,

and beheld his minister stretched upon it and asleep. He was instantly

seized with frantic indignation.

"What dreadful behaviour is this of yours?" said he to Baherjoa. "This

slave could not have got into your apartment and placed himself there

without your knowledge."

"Sire," replied the Queen, in astonishment, but without confusion, "in

the name of the great Prophet I swear that I have never spoken to this

young man. This is the first time I ever saw him, and in nothing have

I encouraged his audacity."

At the noise which was made around the sofa Aladin awoke, surprised

and astonished at his situation. He hastily arose.

"Traitor!" said the frantic King to him, "ingrate! is this thy

gratitude for my favour? Darest thou enter into my womens' apartment,

wretch that thou art? Speedily shalt thou receive the chastisement of

thy boldness."

Having said this, Bohetzad, inflamed with rage, ordered the chief of

his eunuchs to shut up the minister in prison. The monarch, agitated

with the most violent and opposite passions, spent the night without

closing his eyes. At daybreak he called to him the first of his

Viziers, who had not, for a long time, been admitted into his

presence. He told him of the insult which he supposed he had received.

At this recital the Vizier concealed his secret joy. Envy, hatred, and

revenge were about to triumph. It was no feeble victim which was

offered: it was a most powerful rival whom he had to crush. The old

courtier recollected himself. He endeavoured still further to

exasperate his Sovereign, and determine him to take distinguished

vengeance; and with a humble air he spoke as follows:

"Sire, your faithful subjects were astonished when they saw your

confidence bestowed upon an avowed son of a chief of the robbers. It

would have been too great an instance of your Majesty's goodness to

have admitted the branch of so corrupt a stock near your sacred

person. You could expect nothing from him but treachery and crimes."

At this speech of the Vizier, the eyes of the monarch sparkled with

rage. Immediately he ordered the young man to be brought before him,

loaded with chains.

"Wretch!" said he, as soon as he saw him, "recollect the excess of my

favours, and of your ingratitude! Let the recollection of these, and

your remorse, be to you the preludes of the punishment that awaits

you! Your head is soon to fall upon the scaffold."

The fury and threatening of the King could not change the countenance

of the innocent and unfortunate Aladin. No trouble altered the beauty

of his features: he preserved that sweet, modest, and firm air which

had hitherto gained him the goodwill of the monarch. He began to

speak, and ingenuous candour flowed from his lips.

"Sire, my fault was an involuntary one. If an indiscretion on my part

reduced me to a situation in which, during some time, I was deprived

of the use of reason, so that it was no longer my guide, and allowed

me to fall into a very gross mistake, the rest was the work of the

cruelty of fate. My heart, overcome by your favours, and entirely

devoted to your Majesty, has hitherto felt no pleasure but in the

happiness of serving you. But, alas! what avail the best intentions,

and all the exertions of zeal, if a superior law, ruling our destiny,

can put a different appearance on the purity of the motives by which

we are influenced?--if a single action of our life, and that, too,

done from the momentary disorder of our senses, can expose us to the

apparent guilt of a crime, although all our inclinations are virtuous?

Hurried from the summit of happiness into the horrors of disgrace, I

must submit to the decree which inflicts the blow, like the merchant,

whose memorable story is known even in your Majesty's palace."

"What merchant do you mean?" said the King. "What connection has his

story with thy crime? I allow you to relate it."

THE HISTORY OF KASKAS, OR THE UNLUCKY MAN.

Sire, there lived at Bagdad a very wealthy merchant, whose manners and

knowledge rendered him worthy of public confidence. His name was

Kaskas. Fortune had hitherto seconded his labours so well, that he

could boast of success in all his enterprises; but fate soon declared

against him. He could now no longer send a commission, or receive a

return, without being obliged to make considerable sacrifices. He

determined at length to change the nature of his commerce. He sold his

stock, and laid out one-half of the money in buying grain, in hopes

that this article would rise in its price during the winter.

Circumstances, however, were against his speculation, for grain fell

in its value. To avoid this loss, he locked up his granaries,

determined to wait for a more favourable opportunity. In the meantime,

one of his friends having come on a visit to him, wished to persuade

him to give up this new kind of commerce in which he was engaged; but

he did not listen to this advice, and was obstinately determined to

keep his grain a third year. Soon after there happened so violent a

storm that the streets and houses of Bagdad suffered by an inundation.

When the waters were abated, Kaskas went to see if his corn had

received any damage; he found it all springing, and beginning to rot.

In order to escape the penalty, it cost him five hundred pieces to get

thrown into the river that which he had heaped up in his granaries at

a great expense.

His friend returned to him.

"You have neglected," said he, "the advice which I gave you. Distrust

fortune, she seems to have sworn against you, and engage in no

enterprise without the advice of a skilful astrologer."

There was no scarcity of these in Bagdad; and Kaskas, taught by his

ill success, thought the advice of his friend deserved attention. The

soothsayer drew out his horoscope, and assured him that his star was

so malignant, that he must of necessity lose whatever stock he should

hazard in commerce. Kaskas, shocked with a prophecy so contrary to his

own inclination, attempted to prove the prediction false. He laid out

all the money he had remaining in loading a vessel, and embarked in it

with all his wealth.

At the end of four days, during which he had an agreeable voyage, a

terrible tempest arose, which broke in pieces the masts and sails,

carried away the rudder, and at last sunk the ship, with the whole

crew. Kaskas alone, after seeing the remainder of his fortune perish,

was saved from shipwreck by a fragment of the vessel, which carried

him towards a sandy country, where he landed at length, after much

difficulty and fatigue. Tired and naked, he landed in the

neighbourhood of a village which was situated on the sea-shore. He

hastened thither to implore relief, and return thanks to Heaven for

having preserved him from death, while his unfortunate companions had

perished.

As he entered this little colony, he met an old man whose features and

dress inspired respect and confidence. This man, affected with the

situation of Kaskas, covered him with his cloak, and led him to his

house, where, after having given such relief as his exhausted strength

required, he clothed him in a suitable dress.

It was natural for Kaskas to gratify his landlord's curiosity by the

relation of his adventures, and he recounted them with such an air of

candour as to leave no doubt of their truth. As this old man had just

lost his steward, he judged Kaskas worthy to succeed him, and offered

him this new office, with an appointment of two pieces of gold a day.

It was a laborious office: he had to sow a considerable quantity of

ground, to direct the work and workmen, to gather in immense harvests,

to look after the flocks, and to give in accurate and faithful

accounts of the whole at the end of the year. The poor Kaskas returned

thanks to Providence for thus putting it in his power to earn a

subsistence by his labour, since every other resource in the world had

failed him; and he immediately entered on the duties of his new

place.

These he fulfilled with assiduity, zeal, and knowledge, till the very

moment when he was to treasure up the different crops. As his master

had never yet given him any part of his wages, he suspected that he

would not fulfil his engagements, and, to make sure of his salary, he

set apart as much of the grain as would amount to the sum, and shut up

all the rest, giving an account of it to his master. The latter

received this account, full of confidence in his steward, and paid him

all the wages which he owed him, assuring him of the same punctuality

in that respect every year. Kaskas was much ashamed of the precautions

which he had taken, and of the suspicions which he had allowed himself

to entertain.

He immediately returned to the little magazine he had made, in order

to repair his injustice, if happily it were still in his power. But

what was his surprise when he did not find in it the grain he had set

apart! He thought he saw in this theft the punishment of Heaven, and

determined to confess the fault of which he had been guilty. With a

heart full of grief he returned to his master.

"You appear vexed," said the old man. "What can be the cause of it?"

Then Kaskas, flattering himself that he would obtain by his sincerity

the pardon of his fault, made a humble confession of the motive, and

all the circumstances of it, even to the carrying off the grain which

he had set apart, and of which he had not been able to discover the

thieves.

The old man, discovering the marked influence of his steward's

malignant star, thought it would be imprudent to keep him any longer

in his service, and determined to give him his dismissal immediately.

"We do not suit one another," said he to him; "let us part. But, as it

is not just that I should bear the loss of that which you improperly

set apart, restore me the money which I gave you, and seek the reward

of your labour in the sale of the grain which you took from me. I

abandon you."

The unfortunate Kaskas acknowledged the justice of this order: he

submitted to it without murmuring, and left the house of his

benefactor somewhat less naked than he entered it, but without a

single piece of money, and plunged into a deep melancholy.

This sorrowful sport of fortune was thoughtfully walking along the

sea-shore, when he perceived a tent, which he approached. He found in

it four persons, who, discovering in his countenance, which was

otherwise engaging, the traces of deep sorrow, eagerly asked him the

cause of it. He gratified their curiosity by the recital of his

misfortunes. As he spoke he drew a very marked attention from one of

the four, who seemed to have a kind of authority over the other three.

This man soon recognized him as one of his correspondents at Bagdad,

with whom he had formerly had important and lucrative concerns. The

merchant was moved with compassion. At that time he was engaged in an

adventure of pearl-fishing, and was the chief of the three divers who

were with him.

"Throw yourselves into the sea," said he to them, "and the first take

of pearls which you have shall be for this unfortunate traveller."

The three divers, affected as well as their master with the misfortune

of Kaskas, threw themselves into the sea, and brought up, in shells

which they carried with them, ten pearls of an inestimable value for

their size and beauty. The merchant was delighted with the little

fortune he had been able to procure for his former correspondent.

"Take these pearls," said he to him; "sell two of them when you arrive

in the capital, and their price will be sufficient for any adventure

in which you may be inclined to engage; but take particular care of

the other eight, that they may serve you in the time of need, and sell

them where you can do it to the greatest advantage."

Kaskas, after thanking his benefactor, departed, and took the road

which he was directed to follow in his way to the capital. He had been

three days on his journey, when he perceived at a distance some people

on horseback. Afraid lest they should be robbers, he hid eight of the

pearls betwixt the two cloths of his vest, and put into his mouth the

two others which he proposed to sell. He was not wrong in his

conjecture concerning the persons he had seen--they were in reality

robbers. They came up to him, surrounded him, and stripped him; and in

this situation they left him on the road, with nothing but a single

pair of drawers.

The unfortunate traveller recognized in this new feature of fortune

the effect of the evil destiny which pursued him. Meanwhile, he

congratulated himself on having been able to save from the hands of

the rascals the two most beautiful pearls, which were sufficient to

re-establish his affairs and assist him in some lucrative adventure.

The capital was not far distant. He arrived there, and entrusted to

the Dellal[13] the two pearls which remained, to expose them for sale.

The Dellal proclaimed the jewels with a loud voice in the market, and

invited the curious to bid for them. Unfortunately, some days before

there had been some pearls stolen from one of the richest jewellers in

the city. He thought he recognized some of his own in those which were

set up to sell, and demanded that the pretended owner of the jewels

should appear. When he saw him so ill dressed he was convinced he had

found the thief.

[Footnote 13: The Dellal is a public crier.]

"There are two pearls," said he to him, "but you ought to have ten:

what have you done with the other eight?"

Kaskas, thinking the jeweller had been informed of the present that

the fisher had made him, ingenuously replied, "I had ten of them, it

is true; but some robbers whom I met on the road have carried off the

other eight in the lining of my waistcoat, where I had concealed

them."

On this confession, which appeared to the jeweller an acknowledgment

of guilt, he took Kaskas by the hand and carried him before the civil

magistrate, accusing him of having stolen his pearls. This judge, led

away by appearances, and on the declaration of the rich citizen,

condemned the poor Kaskas to the bastinado, and to imprisonment as

long as his accuser should be pleased to detain him in custody. This

unhappy creature, the sport of fortune and of men's injustice,

underwent the punishment, and was forced, during a whole year, to

groan under the rigour of a severe confinement, till at length chance

brought a man of his acquaintance into the same prison. This was one

of the three divers in the Persian Gulf, whose labour appeared to have

been so profitable to him.

The diver, surprised to see him in this situation, asked the cause of

it. Kaskas related to him all that had happened since they parted.

This new confidant immediately addressed a petition to the King, in

which he implored the favour of being admitted into his presence, that

he might communicate to him a secret of the utmost importance. The

King caused the diver to be brought before him. He prostrated himself;

and the King, after having made him rise up, ordered him to

communicate the secret which he was to reveal.

"Great King," said the diver, "the greatness of your Majesty's soul,

and your love of justice, are known to all your subjects. I venture,

this day, to call upon these sublime virtues, in favour of an unhappy

innocent stranger, who has suffered an unjust punishment for a crime

which he did not commit, and who is still confined in the same dungeon

in which I have been shut up for a trifling fault. You love, sire, to

punish the wicked; but it is with the spirit of equity, and for the

maintenance of good order. Your Majesty would wish that the wolf and

the lamb should walk together securely; and it is the duty of your

slave to co-operate with your benevolent intentions, by putting it in

your power to repair an injustice committed against a man, persecuted

by his evil destiny, and worthy of your compassion."

He then entered into a minute detail of the adventure of Kaskas with

regard to the pearls. He showed him the circumstance which had led the

jeweller into a mistake, and occasioned the ignorance of the judge; in

fine, he added, "If your Majesty still suspects the truth of my

recital, you may cause the chief of the fishery, and my companions the

divers, to be interrogated concerning it."

The diver, having no interest in a matter that concerned only an

unfortunate and helpless man, spoke with that boldness and openness

which truth inspires. In the end, the monarch was convinced of the

innocence of the unfortunate Kaskas, and ordered the chief of the

eunuchs to set him at liberty, conduct him to the bath, and, after

having clothed him decently, to bring him into his presence.

The eunuch obeyed. Kaskas was led to the feet of the Sovereign, where

he confirmed the report of the diver. He told the fruitless efforts he

had made to undeceive the jeweller and remove the prejudice of the

judge. In a word, by the detail of all his adventures, he interested

the King so much, that he obtained from him, that instant, a lodging

in the palace, and a place of trust near his person, with great

appointments.

As to the jeweller, after being obliged to restore the pearls, he was

sentenced to receive two hundred strokes of the bastinado: the judge

received double that number, and was deposed from his office. Kaskas,

loaded with favours, thought fate reconciled to him for ever. He took

pleasure in hardening himself against his bad fortune, and was already

arranging the plans of that success which he promised himself in the

new office which he filled, when his curiosity laid a new snare for

him.

He discovered one day in the apartment which was allotted to him a

door covered up with a thin coat of plaster, which, from age, fell to

dust at the smallest touch. It required no effort to force this

passage--the door opened of itself. He entered, without reflecting,

into a rich apartment, to which he was an entire stranger, and found

himself, without knowing it, in the middle of the palace.

Scarcely had he made one step when the chief of the eunuchs observed

him, and without delay informed the King of it. The monarch instantly

came. The fragments of the plaster, which were still upon the ground,

appeared a proof that the door had been forced, and the astonishment

of Kaskas carried a complete conviction of his guilt.

"Unhappy man!" said the King to him, "is it thus you acknowledge my

favours and your obligations? My justice saved you when I believed you

innocent: guilty now, it condemns you to lose your sight."

The imprudent man, without daring to attempt any justification, was

instantly delivered over to the executioner, asking no other favour

than that they would put into his hands the eyes which were to be torn

out.

He carried them in his hand as he walked groping through the streets

of the capital.

"Behold," said he, "O ye who hear me, that which the unfortunate

Kaskas hath gained by hardening himself against the decrees of his

evil destiny, and despising the advice of his friends! Behold the lot

of the obstinate!"

* * * * *

Aladin having thus finished the history of the merchant, addressed

himself directly to Bohetzad.

"Sire, you have seen the effect of fortune's influence on the man

whose adventures I have now related. So long as his star was

propitious, he succeeded in everything; but whenever it changed, his

efforts to correct its malignity were fruitless. The transient

instances of success which seemed to arrest the current of his

misfortunes soon plunged him into greater evils than those which he

had escaped. Circumstances that were unforeseen, and steps that were

innocent, gave him the appearance of ingratitude and guilt, even when

everything assured him of the purity of his conduct. My lot, alas! is

but too like that of his."

The young man had related the adventures of the unfortunate merchant

of Bagdad so naturally and with so much grace, and had made so happy

an application of them, that Bohetzad, still disposed to favour a

criminal whom he had loved so well, and moved by the instance of rash

judgment which he had just heard, put off the execution which he had

ordered till the day following, under pretence of its being too late

for it then.

"Return to thy prison," said he to him. "I grant thee thy life till

to-morrow: I put off till that time the punishment that is justly due

to thee."

In the meantime the First Vizier expected with impatience the account

of Aladin's execution, and when he heard that it was delayed, he

assembled his associates, and thus addressed the Second Vizier:

"The favourite has found means to suspend the execution of his

sentence. I have done my duty in determining the King to an act of

justice. It now belongs to you to do yours by representing to him the

wrong which he does in forgetting the duties of the throne, and in

withholding so long the punishment of a crime that has been proved.

Make your remonstrances to his Majesty, and give them that force which

both his personal safety and ours requires."

The next morning, as soon as access could be had to Bohetzad, Baharon

(for that was the name of the Second Vizier) was introduced to the

King.

"Sire," said this minister to him, "I heard in the retirement of my

closet, and amid the important business with which I am entrusted, of

the insult your Majesty has received. Excuse the zeal by which I am

animated if I offer your Majesty all the service which can arise from

my experience and attachment to you to stop the progress of this

evil."

The King thought Baharon might really be ignorant of the event which

had happened within the palace, and told him the crime of which Aladin

was guilty.

The Vizier seemed to shake as he listened to this report.

"Sire," said he to the King, as soon as he had done speaking, "if the

son of a chief of villains, brought up and nourished amidst guilt,

could have been capable of virtuous sentiments, this phenomenon would

have contradicted experience, and even proved it deceitful. I will

here venture to recall to your Majesty a fable of our ancestors which

tradition has preserved to us:

"In ancient times a young wolf was put to school, to endeavour, by

instruction, to correct his natural propensity to voracity. His

master, in order to teach him to read, transcribed, in large

characters, some letters of the alphabet, and attempted to make him

understand these signs. But instead of reading K L S, as it was

written, the savage animal read fluently Kid, Lamb, Sheep. He was

governed by instinct, and his nature was incorrigible. The son of a

robber is in the very same situation: vice is coeval with his

existence. From the beginning he is an infected mass, which it is

impossible to purify. But what astonishes me most, sire, is that such

a criminal should have survived one moment the insult he has offered

to the Crown."

These remonstrances of the Second Vizier having enraged the mind of

the monarch still more, he ordered the prisoner to be brought in

chains into his presence. He was obeyed.

Aladin appeared. The King, doing violence to the sentiments which

moved him in his favour, addressed him with the greatest severity.

"Traitor!" said he to him, "nothing can hereafter delay your

punishment; and the world shall be informed of your crime and my

vengeance!"

At the same time he gave the executioner the signal of death.

"Sire," interrupted Aladin, whose steady and modest countenance was

the genuine proof of courage and innocence, "my life is in the hands

of your Majesty; but I conjure you still not to hasten my death. He

who thinks only of the present, without reference to the future,

exposes himself to as bitter a repentance as that which the merchant

felt, whose history I have heard. He, on the contrary, who looks into

futurity, has a right one day to congratulate himself on his prudence,

as it happened to the son of this merchant."

Bohetzad, in spite of himself, felt his curiosity excited anew, and

was desirous to hear the story which Aladin wanted to relate to him.

"I will consent," said the monarch, "to hear the adventures of this

merchant; but it is the last instance of complaisance I shall show

you."

"May it please your beneficent Majesty," returned Aladin, "order this

man, who holds the sabre above my head, to be gone. I think I see the

angel of death."

The executioner, having withdrawn by the King's order, Aladin

fulfilled the engagement he had come under in the following terms:

[Illustration]

THE HISTORY OF ILLAGE MAHOMET AND HIS SONS.

There was, in the city of Naka in Tartary, a merchant, whose name was

Illage Mahomet, who, wishing to extend his commerce to the most remote

boundaries of the world, constructed a vessel in such a manner as to

be able to endure the longest voyage and carry a considerable burden.

When this ship was ready to go to sea, he filled it with merchandise;

and observing that the wind was favourable, he took leave of his wife,

embraced his three children, went on board, and sailed with a fair

wind for the Indies.

A fortunate voyage having, in a short time, brought him to the port of

the capital of India, he took lodgings, and placed his merchandise in

the _kan_. Quite at ease respecting the fate of his effects, he then

visited the different quarters of the city, accompanied by four

slaves, and soon entered into friendship with the most celebrated

merchants of the place. As his attendants had orders to publish the

nature of his merchandise, and to distribute patterns of them, a crowd

of purchasers resorted to his magazines.

The King of India was accustomed to come out of his palace in order to

walk through the town, and inform himself of what was going on there,

under a disguise which rendered it impossible he should be known.

Chance having directed his steps to the neighbourhood of the _kan_, he

was anxious to know what drew everybody there. He saw this foreign

merchant, whom a happy and engaging physiognomy, with a gracious

address, announced in a very favourable manner. He heard him answer,

with good breeding and perspicuity, the questions that were put to

him, and saw him conduct his affairs with an openness which gained the

confidence of all. He was desirous of having some conversation with

him; but the fear of being discovered made him renounce his design for

the present. He returned to his palace as quickly as he could, resumed

the dress which became his dignity, and sent for this honourable

merchant. The merchant quickly obeyed the will of the monarch. He was

admitted into his presence, and the King expressed his desire to be

acquainted with him.

"Sire," replied the merchant, "I was born and established in Naka,

near Mount Caucasus. Commerce is my profession. The favour and liberty

which your Majesty grants it have directed my speculations to your

dominions, and Heaven hath favoured my voyage."

The King, satisfied with the simple and noble reply of this stranger,

wished to find out more particularly the amount of his knowledge, by

showing, by turns, curiosity on some subjects and embarrassment on

others; but he was equally pleased with all his answers. Convinced, by

all that he had heard, that the stranger's abilities were far beyond

those necessary for trade, he determined to attach him to his own

service by raising him to the highest office. It was not the design of

the Sovereign to try the stranger by the allurements of honour; but,

knowing that distinguished merit may become useless in an inferior

station, and is frequently only the object of envy, he gave him the

office of Grand Vizier, in order that it might afford him an

opportunity of displaying to greater advantage his knowledge and

ability. Illage received this favour with expressions of respect and

gratitude.

"I should have considered myself as too much honoured, sire, in being

admitted into the number of the slaves who surround your throne. The

dignity of the honourable office to which you have called me far

surpasses my merit and pretensions; but the high idea which I have

conceived of your Majesty inspires me with an unbounded zeal for your

service, and a confidence that I shall be wholly devoted to it."

The monarch, still more pleased with his new minister, ordered him a

magnificent robe, assigned him for lodgings a palace in the

neighbourhood of his own, and caused him to be installed in his new

dignity. The Prince had no reason to repent of his choice, which might

appear rash. The new minister sat in the divan on the right hand of

his master. He was never embarrassed in the discussion of affairs,

however intricate. He had great sagacity in understanding every report

concerning them. Justice and equity were summed up in his decisions,

so that the people and the monarch enjoyed, under the administration

of this enlightened minister, all the blessings of a wise government.

Two years passed in labour and great employments; but at last nature

resumed her rights. The Vizier, separated so long from a family which

he tenderly loved, felt a desire to see them. The first request which

he made on this subject alarmed the Sovereign. But he had a soul of

sensibility; he could not long resist the voice of nature, and

permitted his minister to undertake a voyage which he limited to a

certain period, assuring him that if he brought his whole family along

with him he should never be exposed to any uneasiness in his service.

With this permission, the Vizier embarked for Naka in a vessel of war,

of which he had the command.

The family of this merchant of Tartary, being entirely ignorant of his

fate since the time of his departure, were abandoned to the most cruel

uneasiness. Fortunately, a merchant of the country, returning from

India, had given them news of him, and restored tranquillity to the

family, who were raised to the summit of joy on hearing of the

elevation and success of him on whose account they were alarmed. The

wife of Illage determined that moment to repair to her husband, less

to share his glory than his love. She set her affairs in order, and,

after having taken every necessary step, she embarked with the same

merchant who had given her the consolatory news.

After some days' sailing, the vessel which carried them cast anchor

near an island where they were to land and exchange merchandise.

Contrary winds had obliged Illage to land at the same place. He had

hired a lodging pretty near the harbour, and, being fatigued with the

bad weather which he had met with, had thrown himself upon a bed in

order to take repose. His spouse, who lived in an opposite quarter of

the city, soon learned that a vessel had arrived on its way from

India, and that it had sailed from the capital. She sent her children

to ask the news concerning the Grand Vizier, thinking it impossible

but that they should be able to receive some.

The young people went from the inn where their mother was, running,

the one after the other, till they had come under the windows of the

apartment where the Vizier was at rest. They took possession of a

little eminence on which a number of bales of goods were collected to

keep them dry. The thoughtless youths went to play on the bales,

trying which of the two could push down his brother. These playful

lads, disputing with address and roguery, announced their victory or

their defeat by such piercing shouts that they awoke the Vizier.

He lost his patience: he went to the window to check the noise, and,

leaning over it, three diamonds, which the King had given him, fell

from his fingers. The agitation of the sea had already stirred up the

minister's choler; the habit of command rendered him incapable of

forbearance; and, the island on which he was being within the

jurisdiction of his government, he ordered these troublesome children

to be taken into custody. He came down himself to search for his

diamonds; but, amidst such confusion, this search was fruitless.

Driven by degrees to indignation and fury, he accused the children,

not only of being the cause of the loss of his diamonds, but even of

having stolen them. Their innocence could not defend them against

prejudice. He punished them with the bastinado, and then caused each

of them to be tied to a board and cast into the sea. The innocent

victims, expecting a cruel death, became the sport of the waves and

billows.

Meanwhile night approached, and the spouse of Illage, not seeing her

children return, uneasy, and bathed in tears, went out to seek them.

The neighbours could tell her nothing of them. She ran from street to

street, without meeting any person who could satisfy her well-founded

impatience. This tender mother came at last to the harbour. There,

from the description she gave of the three persons who were the object

of her search and the cause of her uneasiness, a sailor replied to

her,

"Madam, the young people whom you inquire after are the same whom a

powerful man, lately arrived from India, hath punished by his slaves

for a theft which he imputed to them. They gave them the bastinado,

tied them to a plank, and, by his order, threw them into the sea."

At these words, the unhappy mother filled the air with her shrieks and

groans: she rent her clothes and tore her hair. "O my children," said

she, "where is the Vizier your father, to revenge me on the man who

hath murdered my children?"

Her despair struck the ear of her husband, who was not far distant. He

seemed to know the voice, and learned that it was that of the

inconsolable mother whose children he had condemned to death. The cry

of nature resounded in his heart, and he no longer doubted that the

children he had punished were his own. He hastened to the unfortunate

woman whose misery he had occasioned, and immediately knew her.

"Ah, barbarian that I am, I have been the murderer of our children!

Fatal power with which I am invested! blinded by thee, I had not time

allowed me to be just! I am the executioner of my own children!"

As he spoke these words, all the signs of the most violent despair

were painted in his countenance, and manifested themselves by every

sort of extravagance. His wife sank at his feet under the weight of

her grief.

"Do not pardon me," added he: "I am a monster; and so much the more

criminal as I am at this moment placed beyond the reach of the law. I

must for ever be torn by my own remorse and loaded with your

reproaches. I thought myself injured, and I hastened to revenge

myself, without taking time to reflect. I saw a crime where there was

none, and let fall the stroke upon innocence without thinking it would

rebound upon myself."

"You see, sire," continued Aladin, "what cause this Vizier had to

repent his believing these children guilty upon a deceitful

appearance, and his having hurried on a severe punishment without

reflecting on whom it was to fall. He forgot that a regard to futurity

ought to regulate the present."

The unfortunate minister, disgusted with glory and opulence, renounced

the search for his diamonds, abandoned the vessel and its lading, and

supporting the tottering steps of a weeping mother, they both walked

along the shore of the sea mournfully demanding of it the treasures

which the Vizier had cruelly committed to the inconstancy of its

waves.

"Your Majesty," continued Aladin, "will pardon me, if, for a short

time, I make you lose sight of this disconsolate pair, while I fix

your attention on their unhappy children."

The billows, to whose caprice they had been abandoned, were so

agitated that, although they were frequently thrown against one

another, they were immediately separated again. One of them, after

having struggled for two days against the billows, and after having

escaped the danger of being dashed to pieces on the rocks against

which he was continually driven, found himself, all at once, ashore on

the coast of a neighbouring kingdom. The chains which fixed him to the

plank were much worn by the sea, and notwithstanding his fatigue and

hunger, he had still strength enough to disengage himself from them,

and reach the land. He there found an officer who was going to refresh

his horse at the stream of a neighbouring fountain. This man, affected

with the sight of the unfortunate child, gave him part of his clothes,

set him behind him, and carried him to his own house. There

nourishing food and repose completely recovered the shipwrecked youth.

After decently dressing him, his benefactor presented him to the King,

already informed of the event.

The happy physiognomy of the young man made an impression on the King,

and his answers soon completed the very favourable opinion he had of

him. He became a distinguished officer in the palace, where his

conduct gained the complete esteem and confidence of his Sovereign.

This Prince, to whom Heaven had not granted children, thought he could

not do his people a greater service than by adopting the youth, whom

fortune had thrown into his arms. His choice was applauded by the

whole Court, and confirmed by the divan. The people were happy, and

the abilities of the young Prince soon placed him in the number of the

most valiant Kings of Asia. Age and infirmities rendered the King

unable to support the weight of the government, and he abdicated the

sceptre in favour of his adopted son. He saw him married, and thus

terminating his career of glory, calmly resigned his life into the

hands of his Creator.

The young Sovereign, bewailing the loss of his benefactor, gave

himself up to the justest sorrow. He wished to fulfil the duties of

gratitude and piety, and summoned his divan, that he might honour the

ashes of his predecessor by prayers and solemn ceremonies. The people

repaired to the mosques. The Imam, the Nabib, the dervishes, and all

those who serve at them, paid to his memory the homage which was due

to it. He caused many alms to be distributed among the poor and

through all the hospitals of the kingdom. These religious duties early

announced the wisdom of his government, and they were not proved false

by the event. He was always a just and active King, and governed his

people with the affection of a father.

In this manner did fortune snatch from the fury of the waves one of

the Vizier's children, to raise him to the summit of greatness. But

this unhappy father continued to grieve for the loss of his two sons,

until, in one of the islands where he had his residence, he heard the

Dellal proclaim, with a loud voice, that there was a young slave to

be sold, and that the curious were invited to come and examine him.

Illage stopped, looked at the young man, and, constrained by a feeling

of which he knew not the cause, he determined to purchase him.

The figure of this stranger had attractions which he could not resist.

His age corresponded to that of one of his own children; and if the

beauty of his features was a true indication of the virtues of his

mind, he hoped he would supply the place of one of those whom he had

lost. He returned home with his new purchase.

His wife, who perceived them at a distance, recognized the youth, and

was about to throw herself into his arms, but sank under this

unexpected surprise. But although her joy deprived her of the use of

her senses, she was still able to utter the name of her son. The

attention of her husband, and that of the young man, who bathed her

with his tears, recalled her to life. The father, affected with what

he saw, recognized the cry of nature, and returning thanks to Heaven

for the unexpected favour he had received, mingled together his tears

and caresses at this moving picture, and partook of the happiness of

an unlooked-for discovery. Nevertheless, he was tormented by a new

uneasiness: the presence of his son recalled to him his brother--"What

is become of him?"

"Alas!" replied the young man, "the waves soon separated the planks on

which we were carried, and I can tell you nothing of his fate."

This answer redoubled the affliction of the husband and wife; but they

seemed to be comforted with the hope of another blessing similar to

that which they had just received; and in this pleasing expectation

their tenderness centred on the beloved son whom Heaven had at length

restored to their arms.

Several years had elapsed. Achib, the son of Illage, grew stronger

every day. He acquired knowledge, and became capable of following

commerce, in which his father had instructed him. Seeing him fit even

to undertake a profitable voyage, his father purchased a ship, loaded

it with merchandise, and destined it for the capital of the islands in

which they were settled, entrusting him with the management of it.

Upon his arrival in the capital, Achib hired a storehouse in the

_kan_, deposited his goods there, and passed some days in arranging

them to advantage.

The Feast of the Ramezan came. The young man, a faithful Mussulman,

possessed the art of singing so perfectly, that he was able to fulfil

with dignity the functions of the Imam.[14] He dressed himself in his

_faragi_, and went to the principal mosque. There the King, with all

his Court and the grandees of the kingdom, were present at the noonday

service. The young man took his place near the King, and when the

Athib[15] mounted the pulpit and began to chaunt the _Falhea_,[16]

Achib repeated three times, _Alla Akbar_.

[Footnote 14: Imam is a priest who reads and explains the Koran.]

[Footnote 15: Athib is a reader who chaunts over the prayers in plain

song.]

[Footnote 16: Falhea, the Mahommedan Confession of Faith.]

The assembly, and the King himself, were astonished at this young

stranger seating himself so near his Majesty; but the pleasure of his

melodious and affecting voice excited so agreeable a surprise, that

they soon forgot his assurance. All agreed that they had never heard

anything so exquisite and perfect. The Athib was jealous of him: he

had never supposed that there was a voice in the world superior to his

own, and the despair which he felt deprived him of the use of it--he

felt it die upon his lips. Achib did not give him time to recover it:

he continued the prayer with a force and ease which the efforts of the

Athib, supposing him to have had the courage to attempt it, could not

have surpassed.

When the King had ended his prayer, as he came out of the mosque he

ordered his officers to wait for the new singer, to have a horse ready

for him, and to conduct him to the palace, where his Majesty desired

to see him. Achib received this invitation with respect, and obeyed

the orders of his Sovereign.

The monarch gave him a most gracious reception, bestowing the highest

praise upon his talents, and soon felt himself prejudiced in favour of

this stranger by a sympathy of which he could not discover the

springs; but it seemed to be of the most interesting nature. Achib was

only in his seventeenth year, and was endowed with every personal

grace. Everything seemed to unite in strengthening the liking which

the King showed for this stranger. Thus, whether on this pretence or

to do a beneficent action, he made him lodge in his palace, and gave

him a distinguished preference over the pages and those who composed

his household.

The officers soon conspired the destruction of their rival. In the

meantime the virtuous Achib, after a long residence at Court, became

desirous of seeing his parents and giving them an account of the goods

with which he had been entrusted. Afraid lest he should not obtain the

monarch's permission to return to them, he wrote to them and informed

them of the favour he enjoyed. This motive, and the desire he

expressed of seeing them again, determined the family to go to him

immediately.

Illage and his wife bore in their hearts the letter which they had

just received; and both being flattered with having a son who at so

early an age had been able to gain the good graces of a King, they

instantly determined to hasten their departure, and informed their son

of this resolution. As soon as Achib received this information, he

purchased a house and suitable furniture, and in a short time embraced

in it the authors of his existence, to whom the King sent presents of

such magnificence as showed that they were intended for the family of

his favourite.

The fineness of the season having invited the King to one of his

country houses, he removed thither, and gave entertainments for the

amusement of his Court. One evening, contrary to his usual custom, he

gave himself up to the pleasures of the table, and drank of a strange

liquor of which he knew not the strength. In a short time after he was

suddenly seized with such a stupidity that he was obliged to throw

himself on a sofa, where he soon fell asleep. Pleasure had removed

from him all his servants. Achib alone, following from affection every

step of his master and benefactor, entered into the apartment and

found him asleep. Then placing himself within the door, he drew his

sabre, and stood there as a guard.

One of the pages having returned, was surprised to find him in this

situation, and asked him the cause of it.

"I am watching," said Achib, "for the safety of my King: my attachment

and my duty fix me here."

The page ran and told his companions what he had seen. They thought

they might easily avail themselves of this event to destroy him, and

went in a body to the monarch. The witness swore that he had found

Achib with a naked sabre in his hand in his Majesty's chamber while he

was asleep. He ascribed the most criminal intentions to this faithful

guard, and pretended that nothing but some sudden alarm had prevented

the intended blow.

"If your Majesty, sire," added he, "suspects the truth of my report,

you need only to-day feign giving yourself up to sleep without any

precaution, and we do not doubt that this rash man, pursuing his

detestable purpose, will come to renew his attempt."

Though moved by this accusation, the King was unwilling to trust

entirely to the declaration of his pages, and thought it his duty to

clear up his doubts himself.

In the meantime the pages had gone to find the young favourite.

"The King," said they to him, "is highly pleased with the zeal you

have shown for the safety of his person. 'Achib,' hath he said, 'is to

me as a shield; under his protection I can sleep without fear.'"

Night came, and the King, after a repast, during which he affected

much gaiety and cheerfulness, suddenly retired, and threw himself upon

a sofa, apparently in the same state in which he had been the night

before. Achib, who never lost sight of him, supposing he was asleep,

entered the apartment to place himself on guard, with his sabre

uplifted and naked.

As soon as the King saw the gleam of the sabre he was seized with

terror, and a cry which he uttered brought to him all the officers of

his guard. Achib was arrested by his order, loaded with chains, and

led away to prison.

The next morning, after the first prayer, the King assembled his

divan, ascended his throne, and caused the man to be brought before

him whom slanderous and false reports and deceitful appearances had

exposed to the presumption of so much guilt.

"Ungrateful that you are!" said he to him. "Is it by putting me to

death that you would show your gratitude and repay my favours? I will

not delay to take signal vengeance on your detestable baseness."

Achib, having made no reply to these reproaches, was sent back to

prison.

Scarcely was he gone out, when two of the courtiers who were most

eager for his destruction approached the King.

"Sire," said they to him, "everybody is surprised to see the execution

of the criminal delayed. There is no crime equal to that which he

intended to commit; and you ought to give such a speedy example of

justice as your personal safety and the tranquillity of your people

require."

"Let us not be rash," replied the King, "in a judgment of this nature.

The criminal is in chains, and cannot make his escape. And as to

public vengeance, it will never be too late to gratify it. It is easy

to take away a man's life, but it is impossible to restore it. Life is

a blessing of Heaven which we ought to respect, and it becomes not us

to deprive our fellow-creatures of it without the most mature

deliberation. The evil, once done, can never be repaired. I have it

now in my power to reflect on what I ought to do, and wish not that

the future should have to reproach me with the improper conduct of the

present."

Having said this, the King dismissed the divan, ordered his hunting

equipage to be got ready, and gave himself up for some days to the

amusements of the chase.

On his return, he was again set upon by the enemies of Achib. The

longer, according to them, that this criminal's punishment was

delayed, the more the people were discontented. Clemency and

moderation ceased to be virtues when they spared such crimes as his.

These new remarks embarrassed the Sovereign, who had now nothing to

oppose to them, since the delay which he had granted had brought

nothing to light. He determined to inflict that severe punishment

which justice seemed to require, and ordered the criminal to be

brought before him, accompanied by the officers of justice and the

executioner.

Achib stood blindfolded at the foot of the throne. The executioner,

with the sword in his hand, waited the King's command. At that instant

a confused noise was heard; a stranger pierced through the crowd, and

hastened to the feet of the King. It was the unfortunate Illage.

"Mercy, sire! mercy!" exclaimed he: "pardon the only child that Heaven

has restored to me! My son could not intend an attack upon your life:

he was incapable of designing so unnatural a murder; your life is

dearer to him than his own. I have letters of his which made me fly to

your Majesty, that I might admire more nearly those virtues which I

adored. But, O monarch, whose illustrious virtues are renowned through

the most distant corners of the world, justify the public admiration

by a new display of wisdom, in overcoming a resentment with which

false appearances have inspired you! Consider with horror the

melancholy consequences of a too rash judgment! Behold in me a

dreadful example of the consequence of being led away by passion, and

of yielding, without reflection, to its imprudent follies. Heaven

blessed me with children; but having been separated from them from

their earliest infancy, the day at length came when we were to be

reunited. Not knowing them, and being blinded by passion, I abused the

power with which I was invested. I had them bound upon planks and

thrown into the sea. The man whom you threaten with death alone

escaped from perishing in the waves, and must I this day be the

witness of his death? Behold the reward of my guilty rashness! My

heart is filled with bitterness, and tears will flow from mine eyes

till they are closed in death."

During this discourse, the King stood motionless through astonishment.

It was his own history he had just heard. The man who spoke was his

father, and the supposed criminal his brother!

Having happily acquired, in the exercise of power, the habit of

self-command, he knew how to shun the dangers of too sudden a

discovery. Nature, however, yielded at length to his eagerness, and he

affectionately embraced the author of his life. He ordered his brother

to be set free from those shameful chains with which envy had bound

him. He made himself known to him; and after mutual consolation.

"Behold," said he to his divan, "to what a dreadful evil I should have

exposed myself, had I lightly credited the detractions of slander,

and, upon your artful reports, had hastened the punishment which you

so eagerly urged! Go, and be ashamed! Was there one among you all who

supported innocence?"

After these few words, the King retired into his apartments with his

father and brother. He admitted them to a share in all the joys of his

Court, and sent twenty slaves, magnificently dressed, in quest of his

mother. This family, so happily reunited, lived in the blessings of

the most affectionate unity, grateful to the Almighty, and faithful to

the law written by His great Prophet, till the moment when they were

called, by the decree of fate, from this world to a better.

* * * * *

Aladin, having thus finished the history of "Illage Mahomet, or the

Imprudent," added some reflections fitted to make an impression on the

mind of the King, whose attention he had been so fortunate as to

engage.

"Sire!" said he to him, "if the son, when he became a King, had

conducted himself as rashly as the father when he was a minister,

innocence would have been sacrificed to jealousy and ambition, and a

whole family devoted for life to misery and remorse. There is always

something gained by delay. Appearances are equally against me, and

envy hath availed itself of them to make me appear guilty; but I have

Heaven and your wisdom on my side."

When the young man had done speaking, Bohetzad turned towards his

ministers.

"I do not mean," said he, "that crimes should remain unpunished. But

truth, even when it comes from the mouth of an enemy, ought to be

esteemed precious. This criminal hath well remarked, that there can be

nothing lost by taking time to reflect. Let him be carried back to

prison."

The Viziers were enraged. Delay might discover the truth, through the

cloud under which they had concealed it. As they jointly endeavoured

to conceal the stratagems they had devised in secret, the third among

them went early the next day to the palace.

The King inquired if the interval that had elapsed had produced no new

light.

"Sire," replied this minister, "the police which, under your Majesty's

orders, we exercise, maintains the peace of your capital, and all

would be perfectly quiet if the throne were avenged of the outrage of

this son of a villain, whose punishment your Majesty still delays. The

people are murmuring at it, and I should have thought myself wanting

in my duty had I concealed from you their uneasiness, the consequences

of which may be dangerous. It is never too soon to prevent a

rebellion, and that which is now forming would be extremely fatal."

Constrained by these observations, the King commanded the criminal to

be brought before him.

"Unhappy man!" said he to him, "thou shalt never summon me to the

tribunal of Heaven for having hastened thy punishment. I have listened

to all the weak shifts by which thou hast defended thyself. I have

weighed their value. But reserve and circumspection have an end. My

people murmur. Their patience and mine is exhausted. Heaven and earth

look to me for justice, and thou hast reached thy last moment."

"Sire," replied the modest Aladin, "do the people look for an example

of your justice? Impatience is the fault of the people. But patience

ought always to sit upon the throne, amidst the virtues which form its

basis and safety. This virtue, necessary to all, and which calls upon

us for that resignation which we owe to the eternal decrees, raised

the patient Abosaber from the bottom of a well even to the throne."

"Who is this Abosaber?" asked the King. "Give me a short account of

his history."

[Illustration]

THE HISTORY OF ABOSABER THE PATIENT.

Sire (said Aladin), Abosaber, surnamed the Patient, was a wealthy and

generous man, who lived in a village which he rendered happy by his

charities. He was hospitable and beneficent to the poor, and every one

that applied to him. His granaries were full, his ploughs were

continually at work, his flocks covered the plains, and he maintained

plenty in the country. He had a wife and two children, and the

happiness of this way of life was disturbed by nothing but the

devastations of a monstrous lion, which ravaged the stables and folds

belonging to the peaceful cultivators of these happy regions,

according to its necessities and those of its young.

The wife of Abosaber wanted her husband, at the head of his people, to

hunt this animal, by whose devastation they, on account of their

riches, were more particularly affected.

"Wife," said Abosaber to her, "let us have patience! I have not any

skill in lion hunting; leave it to others."

The King of the country heard of the ravages of this lion, and ordered

a general chase. The people immediately took arms: the lion was sought

for, and soon surrounded on every side. A shower of arrows was

discharged upon him. He became furious: his bristles stood on end, his

eyes flashed, he beat his sides with his terrible tail, and, setting

up tremendous roarings, darted with fury upon the nearest of the

hunters. This was a young man of nineteen years of age, mounted upon a

vigorous horse.

At the cries of the lion the courser was seized with terror, and his

strength instantly failed him. He fell, and died as if he had been

struck with a thunderbolt. The valiant knight soon got upon his feet,

and, invoking the name of the great Prophet, he plunged his spear into

the enormous jaws which were opened to devour him. This exploit of

courage and intrepidity gained him, together with the applauses of his

Sovereign, the office of commander-in-chief of all his troops.

Abosaber, hearing of the lion's death, said to his wife, "See of what

advantage patience hath been to us! Had I followed your advice, and

exposed myself to the danger of attacking an animal against which it

was necessary to draw out so much strength, I should have lost my

life, with all my people, to no purpose."

The dangerous lion did not alone disturb the peaceful retreat of

Abosaber; the inhabitants of the village did not all enjoy the same

good character. One of them committed a considerable robbery in the

capital, and made his escape, after having murdered the master of the

house he had plundered. The King, informed of this double crime, sent

in search of the relations and slaves of the man who had been so

inhumanly murdered. No one could give him any information, but by

throwing out suspicions against the inhabitants of the village where

Abosaber dwelt. These had the character of being very bad people, and

were known to have frequented the house in which the murder and theft

had been committed, the perpetrators of which they were endeavouring

to discover. Upon this declaration alone, and without having recourse

to any other proof, the enraged monarch commanded an officer at the

head of a detachment to lay waste the village, and bring away its

inhabitants loaded with chains.

Those who are employed in the execution of severe commands frequently

go beyond the orders they have received. Troops very ill disciplined

spread their devastation over all the neighbouring country. They

spared only the dwelling of Abosaber and six persons of his household;

but they pillaged his granaries and his standing corn, with those of

all the inhabitants.

The wife of Abosaber bewailed this disaster.

"We are ruined," said she to her husband; "you see our flocks carried

off with those of the guilty, notwithstanding the orders they have to

spare whatever belongs to us. See with what injustice we are treated.

Speak to the officers of the King."

"I have spoken," said Abosaber, "but they have not time to hear me.

Let us have patience: the evil will recoil on those who commit it.

Unhappy the man who gives orders at once rigorous and urgent! unhappy

the man who acts without reflection! I fear that the evils which the

King has brought upon us will soon return upon himself."

An enemy of Abosaber had heard this discourse, and reported it to the

King.

"Thus," said he, "speaks the man whom the goodness of your Majesty had

spared!"

The monarch instantly gave orders that Abosaber, his wife, and his two

children, should be driven from the village and banished from his

dominions.

The wife of the wise and resigned Mussulman made loud complaints: she

reproached the authors of her calamity, and carried her resentment to

excess.

"Have patience, wife," said he to her: "this virtue is the sovereign

balm against adversity; it gives salutary counsel, and carries with it

hope and consolation. Let us go to the desert, since they persecute us

here."

The good Abosaber lifted up his eyes and blessed the Almighty as he

pursued his journey with his family. But they had scarcely entered

the desert when they were attacked by a band of robbers. They were

plundered, their children were carried off, and, deprived of every

resource or human aid, they were left to the care of Providence.

The wife, having lost by this new stroke of fate what was most dear to

her, gave free course to her grief, and set up mournful cries.

"Indolent man!" said she to her husband, "lay aside your listlessness.

Let us pursue the robbers: if they have any feeling of humanity left,

they will restore us our children."

"Let us have patience," replied Abosaber; "it is the only remedy for

evils which appear desperate. These robbers are well mounted; naked

and fatigued as we are, there is no probability of our overtaking

them. And suppose we should succeed in that, perhaps these barbarous

men, harassed with our lamentations, might put us to death."

The wife grew calm, for the decay of her strength made her unable to

complain; and they both arrived on the bank of a river, from whence

they discovered a village.

"Sit down here," said Abosaber to his wife; "I will go to seek a

lodging and some clothes to cover us."

Saying this, he went away, taking the road to the village, from which

they were not far distant.

Scarcely was Abosaber out of sight when a gentleman passing near her

stopped in astonishment at seeing a most beautiful woman plundered and

abandoned thus in a solitary road. He put several questions to her,

which this singular adventure might seem to authorize, and she

answered them with sufficient spirit. These replies increased the

fancy of the young man.

"Madam," said he to her, "you seem formed to enjoy a happier lot, and

if you will accept of that which I will prepare for you, follow me,

and, together with my heart and hand, I offer you a situation that

deserves to be envied."

"I have a husband," replied the lady, "to whom, unfortunate as he is,

I am bound for life."

"I have no time," replied the gentleman, "to convince you of the

folly of a refusal in your situation. I love you. Mount my horse

without reply, or with one stroke of my scimitar I will terminate both

your misfortunes and your life."

The wife of Abosaber, forced to yield, before she departed wrote these

words upon the sand: "Abosaber, your patience hath cost you your

fortune, your children, and your wife, who is carried off from you.

Heaven grant that it may not prove still more fatal to you!"

While she traced these words, the gentleman quitted his horse's

bridle, and when everything was ready, he seized his prey and

disappeared.

Abosaber, on his return, sought for his spouse, and called upon her in

vain. He demanded her of all nature, but nature was silent. He cast

his eyes upon the ground, and there learned his misfortune. He could

not restrain the first accents of grief: he tore his hair, rent his

breast, and bruised himself with strokes. But soon becoming quiet,

after all this agitation,

"Have patience, Abosaber!" said he to himself; "thou lovest thy wife,

and art beloved by her. Allah hath undoubtedly suffered her to fall

into the situation in which she is in order to snatch her from more

dreadful evils. Does it become thee to search into the secrets of

Providence? It is thy part to submit, and also to cease from fatiguing

and offending Heaven by thy cries and thy complaints."

These reflections completely restored his tranquillity, and abandoning

the design he had of returning to the village from which he came, he

took the road to a city whose distant spires had attracted his

attention.

As he approached it, he perceived a number of workmen engaged in

constructing a palace for the King. The overseer of this work took

hold of him by the arm, and obliged him to labour with his workmen,

under pain of being sent to prison. Abosaber was forced to have

patience, while he exerted himself to the utmost, receiving no wages

but a little bread and water.

He had been a month in this laborious and unprofitable situation, when

a workman, falling from a ladder, broke his leg. This poor unhappy

man set up dreadful cries, interrupted by complaints and imprecations.

Abosaber approached him.

"Companion," said he to him, "you increase your misfortunes instead of

relieving them. Have patience! The fruits of this virtue are always

salutary: it supports us under calamity, and such is its power that it

can raise a man to the throne, even though he were cast into the

bottom of a well."

The monarch of the country was at this moment at one of the windows of

his palace, to which the cries of the unfortunate workman had drawn

him. He had heard Abosaber's discourse, and was offended at it.

"Let this man be arrested," said he to one of his officers, "and

brought before me."

The officer obeyed. Abosaber was in the presence of the tyrant whose

pride he had unintentionally shocked.

"Insolent fellow!" said this barbarous King to him, "can patience then

bring a man from the bottom of a well to a throne? Thou art going to

put the truth of thy own maxim to the trial."

At the same time he ordered him to be let down to the bottom of a dry

and deep well which was within the palace. There he visited him

regularly every day, carrying him two morsels of bread.

"Abosaber," would he say to him, "you appear to me to be still at the

bottom of the well: when is your patience to raise you to the throne?"

The more this unfeeling monarch insulted his prisoner, he became the

more resigned.

"Let us have patience," would he say to himself; "let us not repel

contempt with reproach; we are not suffered to avenge ourselves in any

shape whatever. Let us allow the crime to come to its full height:

Heaven sees, and is our judge. Let us have patience."

The King had a brother, whom he had always concealed from every eye in

a secret part of the palace. But suspicion and uneasiness made him

afraid lest he should one day be carried off and placed upon the

throne. Some time ago he had secretly let him down into the bottom of

this well we have spoken of. This unhappy victim soon sank under so

many difficulties. He died, but this event was not known, although the

other parts of the secret had transpired.

The grandees of the realm and the whole nation, shocked at the

capricious cruelty, which exposed them all to the same danger, rose

with one accord against the tyrant, and assassinated him. The

adventure of Abosaber had been long since forgotten. One of the

officers of the palace reported that the King went every day to carry

bread to a man who was in the well, and to converse with him. This

idea led their thoughts to the brother who had been so cruelly used by

the tyrant. They ran to the well, went down into it, and found there

the patient Abosaber, whom they took for the presumptive heir to the

crown. Without giving him time to speak, or to make himself known,

they conducted him to a bath, and he was soon clothed in the royal

purple and placed upon the throne.

The new King, always steady to his principles, left Heaven to operate

in his favour, and was patient. His deportment, his reserve, and his

coolness disposed men to prophecy well of his reign, and the wisdom of

his conduct justified these happy presages. Not contented to weigh

with indefatigable patience the decisions of his own judgment, he was

present as often as possible at all the business of the State.

"Viziers, Cadis, ministers of justice," said he to them, "before

deciding hastily, take patience and inquire."

They admired his wisdom, and yielded themselves to its direction. Such

was the disposition of their minds with respect to him, when a train

of events produced a great change in it.

A neighbouring monarch, driven from his dominions by a powerful enemy,

vanquished, and followed by a small retinue, took refuge with

Abosaber, and implored on his knees the hospitality, assistance, and

good offices of a King renowned for his virtues, and especially for

his patience.

Abosaber dismissed his divan to converse with this exiled Prince, and,

as soon as they were alone, he said to him, "Behold in me Abosaber,

your former subject, unjustly spoiled by you of all his fortune, and

banished from your kingdom. Observe the just difference in the

conduct of Heaven towards us. I departed from my village, reduced by

you to the last point of wretchedness. I submitted, however, to my

lot, was patient, and Providence hath conducted me to the throne,

while your passionate, cruel, and rash conduct hath brought you down

from one. It appears to me that, in seeing you thus at my discretion,

I am commissioned to execute on you the decrees of Heaven, as a

warning to the wicked."

After this reproof, and without waiting a reply, Abosaber commanded

his officers to drive the exiled King and all his followers from the

city. These orders were instantly put in execution, but they

occasioned some murmurs. Should an unfortunate and suppliant King be

treated with so much rigour? This seemed contrary to all the laws of

equity, of humanity, and of policy.

Some time after this Abosaber, having been informed that a band of

robbers infested a part of his dominions, sent troops in pursuit of

them. They were surprised, surrounded, and brought before him. The

King recognized them to be those who had carried off his children, and

privately interrogated their chief.

"In such a situation," said he to him, "and in such a desert, you

found a man, a woman, and two children. You plundered the father and

mother, and carried away their children. What have you done with them?

What is become of them?"

"Sire," replied the chief of the robbers, "these children are among

us, and we will give them to your Majesty to dispose of them as you

please. We are ready, moreover, to deliver into your hands all that we

have heaped up in our profession. Grant us life and pardon; receive us

into the number of your subjects; we will return from our evil

courses, and no soldiers in your Majesty's service shall be more

devoted to you than we."

The King sent for the children, seized the riches of the robbers, and

caused their heads to be instantly struck off, without regarding their

repentance or entreaties.

The subjects of Abosaber, seeing this hasty conduct, and recollecting

the treatment of the exiled Monarch, in a short time did not know what

might be their own. "What precipitation!" said they. "Is this the

compassionate King, who, when the Cadi was about to inflict any

punishment, continually repeated to him, '_Wait, examine, do nothing

rashly; have patience_'?" They were extremely surprised, but a new

event rendered them still more astonished.

A gentleman came with complaints against his wife. Abosaber, before

hearing them, said to him, "Bring your wife with you: if it be just

for me to listen to your arguments, it cannot be less so to hear

hers."

The gentleman went out, and in a few moments after returned with his

wife. The King had scarcely looked at her, when he ordered her to be

conducted into the palace, and the man's head to be cut off, who had

come to complain of her. The order was obeyed. The Viziers, the

officers, and the whole divan murmured aloud, that Abosaber might hear

them.

"Never was there seen such an act of violence," said they among

themselves. "The King who was beheaded was never guilty of so shocking

an action, and this brother, coming out of a well, and promising at

first wisdom and prudence, is carried in cold blood to an excess which

borders on madness."

Abosaber listened and remained patient, till at length a wave of his

hand having imposed silence, he spoke as follows:

"Viziers, Cadis, ministers of justice, and all ye vassals of the Crown

who hear me, I have always advised you against precipitation in your

judgments; you owe me the same attention, and I pray you hear me.

"Arrived at a point of good fortune to which I had never even dared to

aspire, the circumstances which were necessary for my success being so

difficult to be united; indifferent as to the crown which I wear, and

to which I had no right by my birth; it only remains for me to gain

your esteem by justifying the motives of my conduct, and making myself

known to you.

"I am not brother to the King whom you judged unworthy to reign; I am

a man of mean birth. Persecuted, undone, and driven from my country, I

took refuge in this kingdom, after having seen my two children and my

wife torn from me in the way. I devoutly submitted to the strokes

which fate had laid on me, when, at the entrance of this city, I was

seized by force, and constrained to labour at the building of the

palace. Convinced in my mind that patience is the most necessary

virtue to man, I exhorted one of my fellow-labourers to bear with

resignation a dreadful evil he had met with in breaking his leg.

_Patience_, said I to him, _is so great a virtue, that it could raise

a man to the throne, although he were cast into the bottom of a well_.

"The King, my predecessor, heard me. This maxim shocked him, and that

instant he caused me be let down into the well, from which you took me

to set me on the throne.

"When a neighbouring monarch, driven by an usurper from his dominions,

came to implore my assistance, I recognized in him my own Sovereign,

who had unjustly stripped me of my possessions and sent me into

banishment. I was not the only object of his capricious cruelties: I

saw all his subjects groaning under them.

"The robbers, whom I punished, had carried off my children and reduced

me to the last point of wretchedness.

"In fine, the gentleman whom I caused to be beheaded is he who

violently took away my wife.

"In all these judgments, I have not had the revenge of my own

particular offences in view. King of these dominions by your choice,

the instrument of God upon earth, I did not think myself at liberty to

yield to an arbitrary clemency, which would have weakened your power.

It was my duty to execute the decrees of Providence upon such as were

clearly convicted of guilt, and to cut off from society mortals too

dangerous for it.

"A tyrannical King who respects not the laws, and is only directed by

his passions and caprice, is the scourge of his people. If it is not

lawful to make any attempt upon his life, it is still less so to grant

him such assistance as would authorize him in the perpetual exercise

of revenge, and in the indulgence of the injustice and atrocity of his

disposition. It is even wise to deprive him of the means of it.

"Villains whose sole occupation is to attack caravans, plunder

travellers, and who are accustomed to nothing but disorder, can never

become useful and valuable citizens. They deserve still less to be

admitted to the honour of defending their country. Banishment to them

is only a return to their former life. By increasing their number, the

evils of the world are rendered perpetual.

"The ravisher of a wife is a monster in society from which it ought to

be freed. The man who indulges himself in this crime is capable of

every other.

"Such are the motives of my conduct: severity costs me more than any

one else. But I should have been unworthy of the confidence of my

people, and wanting in the duties of the throne, had I not exercised

it in this situation.

"If I have exceeded the limits of my authority, I am ready to resign

it into your hands. Reunited to my wife and my children, and thus

loaded with the most precious blessings of the Almighty, I should have

nothing left but to wish you happy days under a government wiser than

mine."

When Abosaber had finished this justification of his conduct,

admiration and respect held the whole assembly in silence. Soon,

however, a shout followed by a thousand others resounded through the

divan.

"Long live Abosaber! long live our King! long live the patient

monarch! may he live for ever! and may his reign endure to eternity!"

The King having returned into his apartment, sent for his wife and his

children, and after yielding to the sweet impulses of nature,

"Behold," said he to his spouse, "the fruits of patience, and the

consequences of rashness. Give up at last your prejudices, and engrave

on the hearts of our children these important truths. Good and evil

happen under the inspection of Providence, and divine wisdom

infallibly bestows the punishment or the reward. The patient man who

submits to his lot is sooner or later crowned with honour."

* * * * *

After having ended his story Aladin kept a respectful silence.

Bohetzad seemed lost in thought.

"How is it possible," said he, "that the maxims of wisdom should flow

from the lips of a man whose heart must be corrupted, and whose soul

must be guilty? Young man!" added he, addressing himself to the

supposed criminal, "I will still defer your punishment till to-morrow.

You are to be carried back to prison. The counsels which you have

given me shall have their proper effect. A professed robber ought to

be cut off from the class of citizens, from that of the defenders of

the kingdom, and from the whole world. But as you have at the same

time guarded me against precipitation in judgment, I consent that you

may live during the remainder of this day and the following night."

At these words the King dismissed the assembly.

The Viziers took counsel together respecting the step they should take

to secure the destruction of the favourite. Perceiving the punishment

so often delayed, it was their business to alarm the King respecting

the dangerous effects of his clemency, and his weakness in allowing

himself to be led away by these discourses, prepared on purpose to

suspend an act of justice which was absolutely necessary. He ought to

banish from the people every suspicion of weakness on the part of the

government, and show them that equity was its foundation.

The artful detail of this reasoning was entrusted to the Fourth

Vizier; and this minister came next morning to Bohetzad to perform his

part.

The poison of flattery was artfully mingled with remonstrances, which

appeared to be dictated by a disinterested zeal, and made a deep

impression on the King. He ordered the Superintendent to be brought

before him, as formerly, with all the apparatus of punishment.

"Unhappy man!" said he to him, "I have reflected enough to punish you

for your crime. May your death, if it be possible, make me forget you

for ever!"

"Sire," replied Aladin, with respect and firmness, "I receive with

submission the sentence of my crime. It is dictated by circumstances;

and were it not, I feel that the misery of having fallen under your

disgrace would be worse to me. The sacrifice once made, I can repent

of it no more. But the day will come, when your Majesty, regretting

your unjust precipitation, will repent that you did not sufficiently

consult the rules of prudence, as it happened to Bhazad, the son of

Cyrus, founder of the Syrian empire."

HISTORY OF BHAZAD THE IMPATIENT.

Bhazad was a Prince possessed of every external accomplishment. His

beauty, celebrated by the poets, was become proverbial among all

nations. He was the delight of every company, and scarcely anything

was noticed in it but himself. One day, while he was unperceived, his

beauty became the subject of conversation. After it had been much

praised, one who was present, and had till then been silent, added,

"Prince Bhazad is doubtless one of the most beautiful men in the

world; but I know a woman who in this respect is much more superior to

her own sex than he is to his."

This discourse roused the curiosity of Bhazad more than his pride;

and, addressing himself in private to the man who spoke thus:

"Might one know from you," said he to him, "the name of this beauty,

in whose praise you have just now spoken?"

"Prince," replied this man, "she is the daughter of one of the most

illustrious vassals of the Syrian throne; and if she enchants every

eye by her external charms, the virtues of her heart and of her mind

contribute still more to make her perfect."

Those few words made a lively impression upon the heart of Bhazad. He

could think of nothing but of the object whose praises he had heard,

and he endeavoured to make a conquest of her. The love which consumed

him injured his health, rendered him thoughtful and solitary; and the

King his father, being surprised at this change, upon inquiring of

him, was informed of its cause.

Bhazad, after having made a confession of his passion to Cyrus,

suffered from him some reproaches for his reserve.

"Why have you concealed from me the state of your heart?" said he to

him. "Are you ignorant that I have all power over the Prince whose

daughter you are desirous to marry? Are you afraid that he will not

accept the honour of our alliance?"

Upon this Cyrus sent in quest of the father of the young beauty, and

demanded her for his son. The dowry, which was to be three hundred

thousand pieces of gold, was agreed upon at once. But the future

father-in-law required that the celebration of the nuptials should be

delayed for nine months.

"Nine months without seeing her!" said the impatient Bhazad to

himself. "Nine months without her! It is insupportable."

He quickly formed the design of going to her. He mounted the best

courser in his stables, and immediately departed, having provided

himself with some necessary articles, such as a bow, a lance, and a

scimitar. He was not far from the capital of Syria when he was

attacked by a band of robbers. His undaunted countenance and his

martial air made an impression upon them; and far from endeavouring,

according to their usual custom, to murder him after they had robbed

him, they proposed to him a very different plan, and promised him his

life on condition that he would associate with them. Bhazad thought it

necessary to discover to these vagabonds his rank, his projects, and

the fatal delay of nine months, which his impatience had been unable

to endure. Upon this declaration, the chief of the robbers replied to

him,

"We will shorten this delay. We know the castle in which the object of

your love dwells, and the strength that defends it. March at our head;

we will attack it, and no object shall be able to resist us. All we

ask of you for this important service is a share in the dowry, your

future protection, and a delay of some days to prepare ourselves for

the enterprise."

Bhazad, in his impatience, thought himself already on the very point

of happiness. Every method seemed just to him which could serve his

passion, and he was by no means delicate in the choice of them. Thus

he deliberated no more, but continued his journey at the head of the

robbers.

They soon met a numerous caravan, and the robbers, constrained by

their natural propensity, attacked it in disorder. They were repulsed,

however, with the loss of several men and a considerable number of

prisoners, among whom Bhazad was included. He was conducted to the

capital of the country to which the caravan was travelling. The

commander of it, after relating his adventure, presented Bhazad to the

King.

"Here, sire, is a young man who, in our opinion, deserves to be

distinguished from the rest, and we beseech your Majesty to dispose of

him according to your pleasure."

The countenance of the captive attracted the particular attention of

the King.