said he to his scholars, “I find Agib is a little insolent gentleman; I will shew you how to mortify him, so that he shall never torment you any more. Nay, I believe it will make him leave the school. When he comes again to-morrow, place yourselves round him, and let one of you call out, “Come, let us play, but upon condition, that every one who desires to play shall tell his own name, and the names of his father and mother; they who refuse shall be esteemed bastards, and not be suffered to play in our company.”
Next day when they were gathered together, they failed not to follow their master’s instructions. They placed themselves round Agib, and one of them called out, “Let us begin a play, but on condition that he who cannot tell his own name, and that of his father and mother, shall not play at all.” They all cried out, and so did Agib, “We consent.” Then he that spoke first asked every one the question, and all fulfilled the condition except Agib, who answered, “My name is Agib, my mother is called the lady of beauty, and my father Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, vizier to the sultan.”
At these words all the children cried out, “Agib, what do you say? That is not the name of your father, but your grandfather.” “A curse on you,” said he in a passion. “What! dare you say that the vizier is not my father?” “No, no,” cried they with great laughter, “he is your grandfather, and you shall not play with us. Nay we will take care how we come into your company.” Having spoken thus, they all left him, scoffing him, and laughing among themselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept.
The schoolmaster who was near, and heard all that passed, came up, and speaking to Agib, said, “Agib, do not you know that the vizier is not your father, but your grandfather, and the father of your mother the lady of beauty? We know not the name of your father any more than you do. We only know that the sultan was going to marry your mother to one of his grooms, a humpback fellow; but a genie lay with her. This is hard upon you, but ought to teach you to treat your schoolfellows with less haughtiness.”
Agib being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the school. He went directly sobbing to his mother’s chamber, who being alarmed to see him thus grieved, asked the reason. He could not answer for tears, so great was his mortification, and it was long ere he could speak plain enough to repeat what had been said to him, and had occasioned his sorrow.
When he came to himself. “Mother,” said he “for the love of God be pleased to tell me who is my father?” “My son,” she replied, “Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, who every day caresses you so kindly, is your father.” “You do not tell me truth,” returned Agib; “he is your father, and none of mine. But whose son am I?” At this question, the lady of beauty calling to mind her wedding night, which had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed tears, repining bitterly at the loss of so handsome a husband as Buddir ad Deen.
Whilst the lady of beauty and Agib were both weeping, the vizier entered, who demanded the reason of their sorrow. The lady told him the shame Agib had undergone at school, which so much affected the vizier that he joined his tears with theirs, and judging from this that the misfortune which had happened to his daughter was the common discourse of the town, he was mortified to the quick.
Being thus afflicted, he went to the sultan’s palace, and falling prostrate at his feet, most humbly intreated permission to make a journey in search of his nephew Buddir ad Deen Houssun. For he could not bear any longer that the people of the city should believe a genie had disgraced his daughter.
The sultan was much concerned at the vizier’s affliction, approved his resolution, and gave him leave to travel. He caused a passport also to be written for him, requesting in the strongest terms all kings and princes in whose dominions Buddir ad Deen might sojourn, to grant that the vizier might conduct him to Cairo.
Shumse ad Deen, not knowing how to express his gratitude to the sultan, fell down before him a second time, while the floods of tears he shed bore sufficient testimony to his feelings. At last, having wished the sultan all manner of prosperity, he took his leave and returned to his house, where he disposed every thing for his journey; and the preparations were carried on with so much diligence, that in four days after he left the city, accompanied with his daughter the lady of beauty, and his grandson Agib.
They travelled nineteen days without intermission; but on the twentieth, arriving at a pleasant mead, a small distance from the gate of Damascus, they halted, and pitched their tents upon the banks of a river which fertilizes the vicinity, and runs through the town, one of the pleasantest in Syria, once the capital of the caliphs; and celebrated for its elegant buildings, the politeness of its inhabitants, and the abundance of its conveniences.
The vizier declared he would stay in that pleasent place two days, and pursue his journey on the third. In the mean time he gave his retinue leave to go to Damascus; and almost all of them made use of it: some influenced by curiosity to see a city they had heard so much of, and others by the opportunity of vending the Egyptian goods they had brought with them, or buying stuffs, and the rarities of the country. The beautiful lady desiring her son Agib might share in the satisfaction of viewing that celebrated city, ordered the black eunuch, who acted in quality of his governor, to conduct him thither.
Agib, in magnificent apparel, went with the eunuch, who had a large cane in his hand. They had no sooner entered the city, than Agib, fair and glorious as the day, attracted the eyes of the people. Some got out of their houses to gain a nearer and narrower view of him; others put their heads out of the windows, and those who passed along the street were not satisfied in stopping to look upon him, but kept pace with him, to prolong the pleasure of the agreeable sight: in fine, there was not a person that did not admire him, and bestow a thousand benedictions on the father and mother that had given being to so fine a child. By chance the eunuch and he passed by the shop of Buddir ad Deen Houssun, and there the crowd was so great, that they were forced to halt.
The pastry-cook who had adopted Buddir ad Deen Houssun had died some years before, and left him his shop and all his property, and he conducted the pastry trade so dexterously, that he had gained great reputation in Damascus. Buddir ad Deen seeing so great a crowd before his door, who were gazing so attentively upon Agib and the black eunuch, stepped out to see them himself.
Having cast his eyes upon Agib, Buddir ad Deen found himself moved, he knew not how, nor for what reason. He was not struck like the people with the brilliant beauty of the boy; another cause unknown to him gave rise to the uneasiness and emotion he felt. It was the force of blood that wrought in this tender father; who, laying aside his business, made up to Agib, and with an engaging air, said to him: “My little lord, who hast won my soul, be so kind as to come into my shop, and eat a bit of such fare as I have; that I may have the pleasure of admiring you at my ease.” These words he pronounced with such tenderness, that tears trickled from his eyes. Little Agib was moved when he saw his emotion; and turning to the eunuch, said, “This honest man speaks in such an affectionate manner, that I cannot avoid complying with his request; let us step into his house, and taste his pastry.” “It would be a fine thing truly,” replied the slave, “to see the son of a vizier go into a pastry-cook’s shop to eat; do not imagine that I will suffer any such thing.” “Alas! my lord,” cried Buddir ad Deen, “it is cruelty to trust the conduct of you in the hands of a person who treats you so harshly.” Then applying himself to the eunuch, “My good friend,” continued he, “pray do not hinder this young lord from granting me the favour I ask; do not put such mortification upon me: rather do me the honour to walk in along with him, and by so doing, you will let the world know, that, though your outside is brown like a chestnut, your inside is as white. Do you know,” continued he, “that I am master of the secret to make you white, instead of being black as you are?” This set the eunuch a laughing, and then he asked what that secret was. “I will tell you,” replied Buddir ad Deen, who repeated some verses in praise of black eunuchs, implying, that it was by their ministry that the honour of princes and of all great men was secured. The eunuch was so charmed with these verses, that, without further hesitation, he suffered Agib to go into the shop, and went in with him himself.
Buddir ad Deen Houssun was overjoyed at having obtained what he had so passionately desired, and, falling again to the work he had discontinued “I was making,” said he, “cream-tarts; and you must, with submission, eat of them. I am persuaded you will find them good; for my own mother, who made them incomparably well, taught me, and the people send to buy them of me from all quarters of the town.” This said, he took a cream-tart out of the oven, and after strewing upon it some pomegranate kernels and sugar, set it before Agib, who found it very delicious.
Another was served up to the eunuch, and he gave the same judgment.
While they were both eating, Buddir ad Deen viewed Agib very attentively; and after looking upon him again and again, it came into his mind that possibly he might have such a son by his charming wife, from whom he had been so soon and so cruelly separated; and the very thought drew tears from his eyes. He intended to have put some questions to little Agib about his journey to Damascus; but the child had no time to gratify his curiosity, for the eunuch pressing him to return to his grandfather’s tent, took him away as soon as he had done eating. Buddir ad Deen Houssun, not contented with looking after him, shut up his shop immediately, and followed him.
Buddir ad Deen Houssun ran after Agib and the eunuch, and overtook them before they had reached the gate of the city. The eunuch perceiving he followed them, was extremely surprised: “You impertinent fellow,” said he, with an angry tone, “what do you want?” “My dear friend,” replied Buddir ad Deen, “do not trouble yourself; I have a little business out of town, and I must needs go and look after it.” This answer, however, did not at all satisfy the eunuch, who turning to Agib, said, “This is all owing to you; I foresaw I should repent of my complaisance; you would needs go into the man’s shop; it was not wisely done in me to give you leave.” “Perhaps,” replied Agib, “he has real business out of town, and the road is free to every body.” While this passed they kept walking together, without looking behind them, till they came near the vizier’s tents, upon which they turned about to see if Buddir ad Deen followed them. Agib, perceiving he was within two paces of him, reddened and whitened alternately, according to the different emotions that affected him. He was afraid the grand vizier his grandfather should come to know he had been in the pastry shop, and had eaten there. In this dread, he took up a large stone that lay at his foot and throwing it at Buddir ad Deen, hit him in the forehead, and wounded him so that his face was covered with blood. The eunuch gave Buddir ad Deen to understand, he had no reason to complain of a mischance that he had merited and brought upon himself.
Buddir ad Deen turned towards the city staunching the blood of the wound with his apron, which he had not put off. “I was a fool,” said he within himself, “for leaving my house, to take so much pains about this brat; for doubtless he would never have used me after this manner, if he had not thought I had some ill design against him.” When he got home, he had his wound dressed, and softened the sense of his mischance by the reflection that there was an infinite number of people upon the earth, who were yet more unfortunate than he.
Buddir ad Deen kept on the pastry-trade at Damascus, and his uncle Shumse ad Deen Mahummud went from thence three days after his arrival. He went by way of Emaus, Hanah, and Halep; then crossed the Euphrates, and after passing through Mardin, Moussoul, Singier, Diarbeker, and several other towns, arrived at last at Bussorah. Immediately after his arrival he desired audience of the sultan, who was no sooner informed of his quality than he admitted him to his presence, received him very favourably, and inquired the occasion of his journey to Bussorah. “Sire,” replied the vizier “I come to know what is become of the son of my brother, who has had the honour to serve your majesty.” “Noor ad Deen Ali,” said the sultan, “has been long dead; as for his son, all I can tell you of him is, that he disappeared suddenly, about two months after his father’s death, and nobody has seen him since, notwithstanding all the inquiry I ordered to be made. But his mother, who is the daughter of one of my viziers, is still alive.” Shumse ad Deen Mahummud desired leave of the sultan to take her to Egypt; and having obtained permission, without waiting till the next day, inquired after her place of abode, and that very hour went to her house, accompanied with his daughter and his grandson.
The widow of Noor ad Deen Ali resided still in the same place where her husband had lived. It was a stately fabric, adorned with marble pillars: but Shumse ad Deen did not stop to view it. At his entry he kissed the gate, and the piece of marble upon which his brother’s name was written in letters of gold. He asked to speak with his sister-in-law, and was told by her servants, that she was in a small building covered by a dome, to which they directed in the middle of a very spacious court. This tender mother used to spend the greatest part of the day and night in that room which she had built as a representation of the tomb of her son Buddir ad Deen Houssun, whom she supposed to be dead after so long an absence. She was pouring tears over his memorial when Shumse ad Deen entering, found her buried in the deepest affliction.
He made his compliment, and after beseeching her to suspend her tears and sighs, informed her he had the honour to be her brother-in-law, and acquainted her with the reason of his journey from Cairo to Bussorah.
Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, after acquainting his sister-in-law with all that had passed at Cairo on his daughter’s wedding-night, and informing her of the surprise occasioned by the discovery of the paper sewed up in Buddir ad Deen’s turban, presented to her Agib and the beautiful lady.
The widow of Noor ad Deen, who had still continued sitting like a woman dejected, and weaned from the affairs of this world, no sooner understood by his discourse that her dear son, whom she lamented so bitterly, might still be alive, than she arose, and repeatedly embraced the beautiful lady and her grandchild Agib; and perceiving in the youth the features of Buddir ad Deen, drops tears different from what she had been so long accustomed to shed. She could not forbear kissing the youth, who, for his part, received her embraces with all the demonstrations of joy he was capable of shewing. “Sister,” said Shumse ad Deen, “it is time to dry your tears, and suppress your sighs; you must think of going with us to Egypt. The sultan of Bussorah gives me leave to carry you thither, and I doubt not you will consent. I am in hopes we shall at last find out your son my nephew; and if we do, the history of him, of you, of my own daughter, and of my own adventures, will deserve to be committed to writing, and transmitted to posterity.”
The widow of Noor ad Deen heard this proposal with pleasure, and ordered preparations to be made for her departure. While they were making, Shumse ad Deen desired a second audience, and after taking leave of the sultan, who dismissed him with ample marks of respect, and gave him a considerable present for himself, and another of great value for the sultan of Egypt, he set out from Bussorah once more for the city of Damascus.
When he arrived in the neighbourhood of Damascus, he ordered his tents to be pitched without the gate, at which he designed to enter the city; and gave out he would tarry there three days, to give his suit rest, and buy up curiosities to present to the sultan of Egypt.
While he was employed in selecting the finest stuffs which the principal merchants had brought to his tents, Agib begged the black eunuch his governor to carry him through the city, in order to see what he had not had leisure to view before; and to inquire what was become of the pastry cook whom he had wounded. The eunuch complying with his request, went along with him towards the city, after leave obtained of the beautiful lady his mother.
They entered Damascus by the Paradise-gate, which lay next to the tents of the vizier They walked through the great squares and the public places where the richest goods were sold, and took a view of the superb mosque at the hour of prayer, between noon and sun- set. When they passed by the shop of Buddir ad Deen Houssun, whom they still found employed in making cream tarts, “I salute you sir,” said Agib; “do you know me? Do you remember you ever saw me before?” Buddir ad Deen hearing these words, fixed his eyes upon him, and recognizing him (such was the surprising effect of paternal love!), felt the same emotion as when he saw him first; he was confused, and instead of making any answer, continued a long time without uttering a word. At length, recovering himself, “My lord,” said he, “be so kind as to come once more with your governor into my house, and taste a cream-tart. I beg your lordship’s pardon, for the trouble I gave you in following you out of town; I was at that time not myself, I did not know what I did. You drew me after you, and the violence of the attraction was so soft, that I could not withstand it.”
Agib, astonished at what Buddir ad Deen said, replied: “There is an excess in the kindness you express, and unless you engage under oath not to follow me when I go from hence, I will not enter your house. If you give me your promise, and prove a man of your word, I will visit you again to-morrow, since the vizier my grandfather, is still employed in buying up rarities for a present to the sultan of Egypt.” “My lord,” replied Buddir ad Deen, “I will do whatever you would have me.” This said, Agib and the eunuch went into the shop.
Presently after, Buddir ad Deen set before them a cream-tart, that was full as good as what they had eaten before; “Come,” said Agib, “sit down by me, and eat with us.” Buddir ad Deen sat down, and attempted to embrace Agib, as a testimony of the joy he conceived upon sitting by him. But Agib pushed him away, desiring him not to be too familiar. Buddir ad Deen obeyed, and repeated some extempore verses in praise of Agib: he did not eat, but made it his business to serve his guests. When they had done, he brought them water to wash, and a very white napkin to wipe their hands. Then he filled a large china cup with sherbet, and put snow into it; and offering it to Agib, “This,” said he, “is sherbet of roses; and I am sure you never tasted better.” Agib having drunk of it with pleasure, Buddir ad Deen took the cup from him, and presented it to the eunuch, who drank it all off at once.
In fine, Agib and his governor having fared well, returned thanks to the pastry-cook for their good entertainment, and moved homewards, it being then late. When they arrived at the tents of Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, Agib’s grandmother received him with transports of joy: her son ran always in her mind, and in embracing Agib, the remembrance of him drew tears from her eyes. “Ah, my child!” said she, “my joy would be perfect, if I had the pleasure of embracing your father as I now embrace you.” She made Agib sit by her, and put several questions to him, relating to the walk he had been taking with the eunuch; and when he complained of being hungry, she gave him a piece of cream-tart, which she had made for herself, and was indeed very good: she likewise gave some to the eunuch.
Agib no sooner touched the piece of cream-tart that had been set before him, than he pretended he did not like it, and left it uncut; and Shubbaunee (which was the eunuch’s name) did the same. The widow of Noor ad Deen Ali observed with regret that her grandson did not like the tart. “What!” said she, “does my child thus despise the work of my hands? Be it known to you, no one in the world can make such besides myself and your father, whom I taught.” “My good mother,” replied Agib, “give me leave to tell you, if you do not know how to make better, there is a pastry- cook in this town that outdoes you. We were at his shop, and ate of one much better than yours.”
On hearing this, the grandmother, frowning upon the eunuch, said, “How now, Shubbaunee, was the care of my grandchild committed to you, to carry him to eat at pastry-shops like a beggar?” “Madam,” replied the eunuch, “it is true, we did stop a little while and talked with the pastry-cook, but we did not eat with him.” “Pardon me,” said Agib, “we went into his shop, and there ate a cream-tart.” Upon this, the lady, more incensed against the eunuch than before, rose in a passion from the table, and running to the tent of Shumse ad Deen, informed him of the eunuch’s crime; and that in such terms, as tended more to inflame the vizier than to dispose him to excuse it.
The vizier who was naturally passionate, did not fail on this occasion to display his anger. He went forthwith to his sister- in-law’s tent, and said to the eunuch, “Wretch, have you the impudence to abuse the trust I repose in you?” Shubbaunee, though sufficiently convicted by Agib’s testimony, denied the fact still. But the child persisting in what he had affirmed, “Grandfather,” said he, “I can assure you we not only ate, but that so very heartily, that we have no occasion for supper: besides, the pastry-cook treated us also with a great bowl of sherbet.” “Well,” cried Shumse ad Deen, “after all this, will you continue to deny that you entered the pastry-cook’s house, and ate there?” Shubbaunee had still the impudence to swear it was not true. “Then you are a liar,” said the vizier “I believe my grandchild; but after all, if you can eat up this cream-tart I shall be persuaded you have truth on your side.”
Though Shubbaunee had crammed himself up to the throat before, he agreed to stand that test, and accordingly took a piece of tart; but his stomach rising against it, he was obliged to spit it out of his mouth. Yet he still pursued the lie, and pretended he had over-eaten himself the day before, and had not recovered his appetite. The vizier irritated with all the eunuch’s frivolous presences, and convinced of his guilt, ordered him to be soundly bastinadoed. In undergoing this punishment, the poor wretch shrieked out aloud, and at last confessed the truth; “I own,” cried he, “that we did eat a cream-tart at the pastry cook’s, and that it was much better than that upon the table.”
The widow of Noor ad Deen thought it was out of spite to her, and with a desire to mortify her, that Shubbaunee commended the pastry-cook’s tart; and accordingly said, “I cannot believe the cook’s tarts are better than mine; I am resolved to satisfy myself upon that head. Where does he live? Go immediately and buy me one of his tarts.” The eunuch repaired to Buddir ad Deen’s shop, and said, “Let me have one of your cream-tarts; one of our ladies wants to taste them.” Buddir ad Deen chose one of the best, and gave it to the eunuch.
Shubbaunee returned speedily to the tents, gave the tart to Noor ad Deen’s widow, who, snatching it greedily, broke a piece off; but no sooner put it to her mouth, than she cried out and swooned away. The vizier was extremely surprised at the accident; he threw water upon her face, and was very active in recovering her. As soon as she came to herself, “My God!” cried she, “it must needs be my son, my dear Buddir ad Deen who made this tart.”
When the vizier Shumse ad Deen heard his sister-in-law say, that the maker of the tart, brought by the eunuch, must needs be her son, he was overjoyed; but reflecting that his joy might prove groundless, and the conjecture of Noor ad Deen’s widow be false, “Madam,” said he, “do you think there may not be a pastry-cook in the world, who knows how to make cream-tarts as well as your son?” “I own,” replied she, “there may be pastry-cooks that can make as good tarts as he; but as I make them in a peculiar manner, and only my son was let into the secret, it must absolutely be he that made this. Come, my brother,” added she in a transport, “let us call up mirth and joy; we have at last found what we have been so long looking for.” “Madam,” said the vizier answer, “I entreat you to moderate your impatience, for we shall quickly know the truth. All we have to do, is to bring the pastry-cook hither; and then you and my daughter will readily distinguish whether he be your son or not. But you must both be concealed so as to have a view of Buddir ad Deen while he cannot see you; for I would not have our interview and mutual discovery happen at Damascus. My design is to delay the discovery till we return to Cairo.”
This said, he left the ladies in their tent, and retired to his own; where he called for fifty of his men, and said to them: “Take each of you a stick in your hands, and follow Shubbaunee, who will conduct you to a pastry-cook in this city. When you arrive there, break and dash in pieces all you find in the shop: if he demand the reason of your outrage, only ask him in return if it was not he that made the cream-tart that was brought from his house. If he answer in the affirmative, seize his person, fetter him, and bring him along with you; but take care you do not beat him, nor do him the least harm. Go, and lose no time.”
The vizier’s orders were immediately executed. The detachment, conducted by the black eunuch, went with expedition to Buddir ad Deen’s house, broke in pieces the plates, kettles, copper pans, and all the other moveables and utensils they met with, and inundated the sherbet-shop with cream and comfits. Buddir ad Deen, astonished at the sight, said with a pitiful tone, “Pray, good people, why do you serve me so? What is the matter? What have I done?” “Was it not you,” said they, “that sold this eunuch the cream-tart?” “Yes,” replied he, “I am the man; and who says any thing against it? I defy any one to make a better.” Instead of giving him an answer, they continued to break all round them, and the oven itself was not spared.
In the mean time the neighbours took the alarm, and surprised to see fifty armed men committing such a disorder, asked the reason of such violence; and Buddir ad Deen said once more to the rioters, “Pray tell me what crime I have committed to deserve this usage?” “Was it not you,” replied they, “that made the cream-tart you sold to the eunuch?” “Yes, yes, it was I,” replied he; “I maintain it is a good one. I do not deserve this treatment.” However, without listening to him, they seized his person, and, snatching the cloth off his turban, tied his hands with it behind his back, and, after dragging him by force out of his shop, marched off.
The mob gathering, from compassion to Buddir ad Deen, took his part; but officers from the governor of the city dispersed the people, and favoured the carrying off of Buddir ad Deen, for Shumse ad Deen Mahummud had in the mean time gone to the governor’s house to acquaint him with the order he had given, and to demand the interposition of force to favour the execution; and the governor, who commanded all Syria in the name of the sultan of Egypt, was unwilling to refuse any thing to his master’s vizier.
It was in vain for Buddir ad Deen to ask those who carried him off, what fault had been found with his cream-tart: they gave him no answer. In short, they conducted him to the tents, and made him wait there till Shumse ad Deen returned from the governor of Damascus.
Upon the vizier’s return, the pretended culprit was brought before him. “My lord,” said Buddir ad Deen, with tears in his eyes, “pray do me the favour to let me know wherein I have displeased you.” “Why, you wretch,” exclaimed the vizier “was it not you that made the cream-tart you sent me?” “I own I am the man,” replied Buddir ad Deen, “but pray what crime is that?” “I will punish you according to your deserts,” said Shumse ad Deen, “it shall cost you your life, for sending me such a sorry tart.” “Ah!” exclaimed Buddir ad Deen, “is it a capital crime to make a bad cream-tart?” “Yes,” said the vizier “and you are to expect no other usage from me.”
While this interview lasted, the ladies, who were concealed behind curtains, saw Buddir ad Deen, and recognized him, notwithstanding he had been so long absent. They were so transported with joy, that they swooned away; and when they recovered, would fain have run up and fallen upon his neck, but the promise they had made to the vizier of not discovering themselves, restrained the tender emotions of love and of nature.
Shumse ad Deen having resolved to set out that night, ordered the tents to be struck, and the necessary preparations to be made for his journey. He ordered Buddir ad Deen to be secured in a sort of cage, and laid on a camel. The vizier and his retinue began their march, and travelled the rest of that night, and all the next day, without stopping In the evening they halted, and Buddir ad Deen was taken out of his cage, in order to be served with the necessary refreshments, but still carefully kept at a distance from his mother and his wife; and during the whole expedition, which lasted twenty days, was served in the same manner.
When they arrived at Cairo, they encamped in the neighbourhood of the city; Shumse ad Deen called for Buddir ad Deen, and gave orders, in his presence, to prepare a stake. “Alas!” said Buddir ad Deen, “what do you mean to do with a stake?” “Why, to impale you,” replied Shumse ad Deen, “and then to have you carried through all the quarters of the town, that the people may have the spectacle of a worthless pastry-cook, who makes cream-tarts without pepper.” This said, Buddir ad Deen cried out so ludicrously, that Shumse ad Deen could hardly keep his countenance: “Alas!” said he, “must I suffer a death as cruel as it is ignominious, for not putting pepper in a cream-tart?”
“How,” said Buddir ad Deen, “must I be rifled; must I be imprisoned in a chest, and at last impaled, and all for not putting pepper in a cream-tart? Are these the actions of Moosulmauns, of persons who make a profession of probity, justice, and good works?” With these words he shed tears, and then renewing his complaint; “No,” continued he, “never was a man used so unjustly, nor so severely. Is it possible they should be capable of taking a man’s life for not putting pepper in a cream- tart? Cursed be all cream-tarts, as well as the hour in which I was born! Would to God l had died that minute!”
The disconsolate Buddir ad Deen did not cease his lamentations; and when the stake was brought, cried out bitterly at the horrid sight. “Heaven!” said he, “can you suffer me to die an ignominious and painful death? And all this, for what crime? not for robbery or murder, or renouncing my religion, but for not putting pepper in a cream tart,”
Night being then pretty far advanced, the vizier ordered Buddir ad Deen to be conveyed again to his cage, saying to him, “Stay there till to-morrow; the day shall not elapse before I give orders for your death.” The chest or cage then was carried away and laid upon the camel that had brought it from Damascus: at the same time all the other camels were loaded again; and the vizier mounting his horse, ordered the camel that carried his nephew to march before him, and entered the city with all his suit. After passing through several streets, where no one appeared, he arrived at his palace, where he ordered the chest to be taken down, but not opened till farther orders.
While his retinue were unlading the other camels, he took Buddir ad Deen’s mother and his daughter aside; and addressed himself to the latter: “God be praised,” said he, “my child, for this happy occasion of meeting your cousin and your husband! You remember, of course, what order your chamber was in on your wedding night: go and put all things as they were then placed; and if your memory do not serve you, I can aid it by a written account, which I caused to be taken upon that occasion.”
The beautiful lady went joyfully to execute her father’s orders; and he at the same time commanded the hall to be adorned as when Buddir ad Deen Houssun was there with the sultan of Egypt’s hunch-backed groom. As he went over his manuscript, his domestics placed every moveable in the described order. The throne was not forgotten, nor the lighted wax candles. When every thing was arranged in the hall, the vizier went into his daughter’s chamber and put in their due place Buddir ad Deen’s apparel, with the purse of sequins. This done, he said to the beautiful lady, “Undress yourself, my child, and go to bed. As soon as Buddir ad Deen enters your room, complain of his being from you so long, and tell him, that when you awoke, you were astonished you did not find him by you. Press him to come to bed again; and to- morrow morning you will divert your mother-in-law and me, by giving us an account of your interview.” This said, he went from his daughter’s apartment, and left her to undress herself and go to bed.
Shumse ad Deen Mahummud ordered all his domestics to depart the hall, excepting two or three, whom he desired to remain. These he commanded to go and take Buddir ad Deen out of the cage, to strip him to his under vest and drawers, to conduct him in that condition to the hall, to leave him there alone, and shut the door upon him.
Buddir ad Deen, though overwhelmed with grief, was asleep so soundly, that the vizier’s domestics had taken him out of the chest and stripped him before he awoke; and they carried him so suddenly into the hall, that they did not give him time to see where he was. When he found himself alone in the hall, he looked round him, and the objects he beheld recalling to his memory the circumstances of his marriage, he perceived, with astonishment, that it was the place where he had seen the sultan’s groom of the stables. His surprise was still the greater, when approaching softly the door of a chamber which he found open, he spied his own raiments where he remembered to have left them on his wedding night. “My God!” said he, rubbing his eyes, “am I asleep or awake?”
The beautiful lady, who in the mean time was diverting herself with his astonishment, opened the curtains of her bed suddenly, and bending her head forward, “My dear lord,” said she, with a soft, tender air, “what do you do at the door? You have been out of bed a long time. I was strangely surprised when I awoke in not finding you by me.” Buddir ad Deen was enraptured; he entered the room, but reverting to all that had passed during a ten years’ interval, and not being able to persuade himself that it could all have happened in the compass of one night, he went to the place where his vestments lay with the purse of sequins; and after examining them very carefully, exclaimed, “By Allah these are mysteries which I can by no means comprehend!” The lady, who was pleased to see his confusion, said, once more, “My lord, what do you wait for?” He stepped towards the bed, and said to her, “Is it long since I left you?” “The question,” answered she, “surprises me. Did not you rise from me but now? Surely your mind is deranged.” “Madam,” replied Buddir ad Deen, “I do assure you my thoughts are not very composed. I remember indeed to have been with you, but I remember at the same time, that I have since lived ten years at Damascus. Now, if I was actually in bed with you this night, I cannot have been from you so long. These two points are inconsistent. Pray tell me what I am to think; whether my marriage with you is an illusion, or whether my absence from you is only a dream?” “Yes, my lord,” cried she, “doubtless you were light-headed when you thought you were at Damascus.” Upon this Buddir ad Deen laughed heartily, and said, “What a comical fancy is this! I assure you, madam, this dream of mine will be very pleasant to you. Do but imagine, if you please, that I was at the gate of Damascus in my shirt and drawers, as I am here now; that I entered the town with the halloo of a mob who followed and insulted me; that I fled to a pastry cook who adopted me, taught me his trade, and left me all he had when he died; that after his death I kept a shop. In fine, I had an infinity of other adventures, too tedious to recount: and all I can say is, that it was well that I awoke, for they were going to impale me!” “And for what,” cried the lady, feigning astonishment, “would they have used you so cruelly? Surely you must have committed some enormous crime.” “Not the least,” replied Buddir ad Deen; “it was for nothing but a mere trifle, the most ridiculous thing you can imagine. All the crime I was charged with, was selling a cream-tart that had no pepper in it.” “As for that matter,” said the beautiful lady laughing heartily, “I must say they did you great injustice.” “Ah!” replied he, “that was not all. For this cursed cream-tart was every thing in my shop broken to pieces, myself bound and fettered, and flung into a chest, where I lay so close, that methinks I am there still, but thanks be to God all was a dream.”
Buddir ad Deen was not easy all night. He awoke from time to time, and put the question to himself, whether he dreamed or was awake. He distrusted his felicity; and, to be sure whether it was true or not, looked round the room. “I am not mistaken,” said he; “this is the same chamber where I entered instead of the hunch- backed groom of the stables; and I am now in bed with the fair lady designed for him.” Day-light, which then appeared, had not yet dispelled his uneasiness, when the vizier Shumse ad Deen, his uncle, knocked at the door, and at the same time went in to bid him good morrow.
Buddir ad Deen was extremely surprised to see a man he knew so well, and who now appeared with a different air from that with which he pronounced the terrible sentence of death against him. “Ah!” cried Buddir ad Deen, “it was you who condemned me so unjustly to a kind of death, the thoughts of which make me shudder, and all for a cream-tart without pepper.” The vizier fell a laughing, and to put him out of suspense, told him how, by the ministry of a genie (for hunch-back’s relation made him suspect the adventure), he had been at his palace, and had married his daughter instead of the sultan’s groom of the stables; then he acquainted him that he had discovered him to be his nephew by the memorandum of his father, and pursuant to that discovery had gone from Cairo to Bussorah in quest of him. “My dear nephew,” added he, embracing him with every expression of tenderness, “I ask your pardon for all I have made you undergo since I discovered you. I resolved to bring you to my palace before I told you your happiness; which ought now to be so much the dearer to you, as it has cost you so much perplexity and distress. To atone for all your afflictions, comfort yourself with the joy of being in the company of those who ought to be dearest to you. While you are dressing yourself I will go and acquaint your mother, who is beyond measure impatient to see you; and will likewise bring to you your son, whom you saw at Damascus, and for whom, without knowing him, you shewed so much affection.”
No words can adequately express the joy of Buddir ad Deen, when he saw his mother and his son. They embraced, and shewed all the transports that love and tenderness could inspire. The mother spoke to Buddir ad Deen in the most moving terms; she mentioned the grief she had felt for his long absence, and the tears she had shed. Little Ajib, instead of flying his father’s embraces, as at Damascus, received them with all the marks of pleasure. And Buddir ad Deen Houssun, divided between two objects so worthy of his love, thought he could not give sufficient testimonies of his affection.
While this passed, the vizier was gone to the palace, to give the sultan an account of the happy success of his travels; and the sultan was so moved with the recital of the story, that he ordered it to be taken down in writing, and carefully preserved among the archives of the kingdom. After Shumse ad Deen’s return to his palace, he sat down with his family, and all the household passed the day in festivity and mirth.
The vizier Jaaffier having thus concluded the story of Buddir ad Deen, told the caliph that this was what he had to relate to his majesty. The caliph found the story so surprising, that without farther hesitation he granted his slave Rihan’s pardon; and to console the young man for the grief of having unhappily deprived himself of a woman whom he had loved so tenderly, married him to one of his slaves, bestowed liberal gifts upon him, and maintained him till he died.
THE HISTORY OF GANEM, SON OF ABOU AYOUB, AND KNOWN BY THE SURNAME OF LOVE’S SLAVE.
There was formerly at Damascus a merchant, who had by care and industry acquired great wealth, on which he lived in a very honourable manner. His name was Abou Ayoub, and he had one son and a daughter. The son was called Ganem, but afterwards surnamed Love’s slave. His person was graceful, and the excellent qualities of his mind had been improved by able masters. The daughter’s name was Alcolom, signifying Ravisher of hearts, because her beauty was so perfect that whoever saw her could not avoid loving her.
Abou Ayoub died, and left immense riches: a hundred loads of brocades and other silks that lay in his warehouse were the least part. The loads were ready made up, and on every bale was written in large characters, “For Bagdad.”
Mahummud, the son of Soliman, surnamed Zinebi, reigned at that time at Damascus, the capital of Syria. His kinsman, Haroon al Rusheed, had bestowed that kingdom on him as his tributary.
Soon after the death of Abou Ayoub, Ganem conversed with his mother about their domestic affairs, and concerning the loads of merchandize in the warehouse, asked her the meaning of what was written upon each bale. “My son,” answered his mother, “your father used to travel sometimes into one province, and sometimes into another; and it was customary with him, before he set out, to write the name of the city he designed to repair to on every bade. He had provided all things to take a journey to Bagdad, and was on the point of setting out, when death”—-She had not power to finish; the lively remembrance of the loss of her husband would not permit her to say more, and drew from her a shower of tears.
Ganem could not see his mother so sensibly affected, without being equally so himself. They continued some time silent; but at length he recovered himself, and as soon as he found his mother calm enough to listen to him, said, “Since my father designed these goods for Bagdad, I will prepare myself to perform that journey; and I think it will be proper for me to hasten my departure, for fear those commodities should perish, or that we should lose the opportunity of selling them to the best advantage.”
Abou Ayoub’s widow, who tenderly loved her son, was much concerned at this resolution, and replied, “My dear child, I cannot but commend you for designing to follow your father’s example; but consider, that you are too young, inexperienced, and unaccustomed to the fatigue of travelling. Besides, can you think of leaving me, and adding to that sorrow with which I am already oppressed? Is it not better to sell those goods to the merchants of Damascus, and take up with a moderate profit, than expose yourself to the danger of perishing?”
It was in vain for her to oppose Ganem’s resolution by the strongest arguments; they had no weight with him. An inclination to travel, and to accomplish himself by a thorough knowledge of the world, urged him to set out, and prevailed over all his mother’s remonstrances, her entreaties, and even her tears. He went to the market where slaves were sold, and bought such as were able-bodied, hired a hundred camels, and having provided all other necessaries, entered upon his journey, with five or six merchants of Damascus, who were going to trade at Bagdad.
Those merchants, attended by their slaves, and accompanied by several other travellers, made up such a considerable caravan, that they had nothing to fear from the Bedouin Arabs, who make it their only profession to range the country; and attack and plunder the caravans when they are not strong enough to repulse them. They had no other difficulty to encounter, than the usual fatigues of a long journey, which were easily forgotten when they came in sight of the city of Bagdad, where they arrived in safety.
They alighted at the most magnificent and most frequented khan in the city; but Ganem chose to be lodged conveniently, and by himself. He only left his goods there in a warehouse for their greater security, and hired a spacious house in the neighbourhood, richly furnished, having a garden which was very delightful, on account of its many waterworks and shady groves.
Some days after this young merchant had been settled in his house, and perfectly recovered of the fatigue of his journey, he dressed himself richly, and repaired to the public place, where the merchants met to transact business. A slave followed him, carrying a parcel of fine stuffs and silks.
The merchants received Ganem very courteously, and their syndic, or chief, to whom he first made application, bought all his parcel, at the price set down in the ticket annexed to every piece of stuff. Ganem continued his trade so successfully, that he every day sold all the goods he exposed.
He had but one bale left, which he had caused to be carried from the warehouse to his own house; he then went to the public rendezvous, where he found all the shops shut. This seemed somewhat extraordinary to him and having asked the cause, he was told, that one of the first merchants, whom he knew, was dead, and that all his brother traders were gone to his funeral.
Ganem inquired for the mosque, where prayer was to be said, and whence the body was to be conducted to the grave; and having been informed, sent back his slave with the goods, and walked towards the mosque. He got thither before the prayers were ended, which were said in a hall hung with black satin. The corpse was taken up, and followed by the kindred, the merchants, and Ganem, to the place of burial, which was at some distance without the city. It was a stone structure, in form of a dome, purposely built to receive the bodies of all the family of the deceased, and being very small, they had pitched tents around, that all the company might be sheltered during the ceremony. The monument was opened, and the corpse laid in it, after which it was shut up. Then the imam, and other ministers of the mosque, sat down in a ring on carpets, in the largest tent, and recited the rest of the prayers. They also read the Fateah, or introductory chapter of the Koraun, appointed for the burial of the dead. The kindred and merchants sat round, in the same manner, behind the ministers.
It was near night before all was ended: Ganem who had not expected such a long ceremony, began to be uneasy, and the more so, when he saw meat served up, in memory of the deceased, according to the custom of the Mahummedans. He was also told that the tents had been set up not only against the heat of the sun, but also against the evening dew, because they should not return to the city before the next morning. These words perplexed Ganem. “I am a stranger,” said he to himself, “and have the reputation of being a rich merchant; thieves may take the opportunity of my absence, and rob my house. My slaves may be tempted by so favourable an opportunity; they may run away with all the gold I have received for my goods, and whither shall I go to look for them?” Full of these thoughts, he ate a few mouthfuls hastily, and slipped away from the company.
He made all possible haste; but, as it often happens that the more a man hurries the less he advances, he went astray in the dark, so that it was near midnight when he came to the city gate; which, to add to his misfortune, was shut. This was a fresh affliction to him, and he was obliged to look for some convenient place in which to pass the rest of the night till the gate was opened. He went into a burial-place, so spacious, that it reached from the city to the very place he had left. He advanced to some high walls, which enclosed a small field, being the mausoleum of a family, and in which there was a palm-tree. Ganem, finding that the burial-place where the palm-tree grew was open, went into it, and shut the door after him. He lay down on the grass and tried to sleep; but his uneasiness at being absent from home would not permit him. He got up, and after having passed before the door several times, opened it, without knowing why, and immediately perceived at a distance a light, which seemed to come towards him. He was startled at the sight, closed the door, which had nothing to secure it but a latch, and got up as fast as he could to the top of the palm-tree; looking upon that as the safest retreat under his present apprehensions.
No sooner was he up, than by the help of the light which had alarmed him, he plainly perceived three men, whom, by their habit, he knew to be slaves, enter into the burial-place. One of them advanced with a lantern, and the two others followed him, loaded with a chest, between five and six feet long, which they carried on their shoulders. They set it down, and then one of the three slaves said to his comrades, “Brethren, if you will be advised by me, we will leave the chest here, and return to the city.” “No, no,” replied another, “that would not be executing our mistress’s orders; we may have cause to repent not doing as we were commanded. Let us bury the chest, since we are enjoined so to do.” The two other slaves complied. They began to break ground with the tools they had brought for that purpose. When they had made a deep trench, they put the chest into it, and covered it with the earth they had taken out, and then departed.
Ganem, who from the top of the palm-tree had heard every word the slaves had spoken, could not tell what to think of the adventure. He concluded that the chest must contain something of value, and that the person to whom it belonged had some particular reasons for causing it to be buried in the cemetery. He resolved immediately to satisfy his curiosity, came down from the palm- tree, the departure of the slaves having dissipated his fear, and fell to work upon the pit, plying his hands and feet so well, that in a short time he uncovered the chest, but found it secured by a padlock. This new obstacle to the satisfying of his curiosity was no small mortification to him, yet he was not discouraged, but the day beginning then to appear, he saw several great stones about the burial-place. He picked out one, with which he easily knocked off the padlock, and then with much impatience opened the chest. Ganem was strangely surprised, when, instead of money, he discovered a young lady of incomparable beauty. Her fresh and rosy complexion, and her gentle regular breathing, satisfied him she was alive, but he could not conceive why, if she were only asleep, she had not awaked at the noise he made in forcing off the padlock. Her habit was so costly, with bracelets and pendants of diamonds, and a necklace of pearls, so large, that he made not the least doubt of her being one of the principal ladies of the court. At the sight of so beautiful an object, not only compassion and natural inclination to relieve persons in danger, but something more powerful, which Ganem could not then account for, prevailed on him to afford the unfortunate beauty all the assistance in his power.
He first shut the gate of the burial-place, which the slaves had left open; then, returning, took the lady in his arms, and laid her on the soft earth which he had thrown off the chest. As soon as she was exposed to the air, she sneezed, and, by the motion in turning her head, there came from her mouth a liquor, with which her stomach seemed to have been loaded; then opening and rubbing her eyes, she with such a voice as charmed Ganem, whom she did not see, cried out, “Zohorob Bostan, Shijher al Mirjaun, Casabos Souccar, Nouron Nihar, Nagmatos Sohi, Nonzbetos Zaman, why do you not answer? where are you?” These were the names of six female slaves that used to wait on her. She called them, and wondered that nobody answered; but at length looking about, and perceiving she was in a burial-place, was seized with fear. “What,” cried she, much louder than before, “are the dead raised? Is the day of judgment come? What a wonderful change is this from evening to morning?”
Ganem did not think fit to leave the lady any longer in her perplexity, but presented himself before her with all possible respect, and in the most courteous manner. “Madam,” said he, “I am not able to express my joy at having happened to be here to do you the service I have, and to offer you all the assistance you may need under your present circumstances.”
In order to persuade the lady to repose confidence in him, he, in the first place, told her who he was, and what accident had brought him to that place. Next he acquainted her with the coming of the three slaves, and how they had buried the chest. The lady, who had covered her face with her veil as soon as Ganem appeared, was extremely sensible of the obligations she owed him. “I return thanks to God,” said she “for having sent so worthy a person as you are to deliver me from death; but since you have begun so charitable a work, I conjure you not to leave it imperfect. Let me beg of you to go into the city, and provide a muleteer, to come with his mule, and carry me to your house in this chest; for, should I go with you on foot, my dress being different from that of the city ladies, some one might take notice of it, and follow me, which it highly concerns me to prevent. When I shall be in your house, I will give you an account of myself; and in the mean time be assured that you have not obliged an ungrateful person.”
Before the young merchant left the lady, he drew the chest out of the pit, which he filled up with earth, laid her again in the chest, and shut it in such a manner, that it did not look as if the padlock had been forced off; but for fear of stifling her, he did not put it quite close, leaving room for the admittance of air. Going out of the burial-place, he drew the door after him; and the city gate being then open, soon found what he sought. He returned with speed to the burial place, and helped the muleteer to lay the chest across his mule, telling him, to remove all cause of suspicion, that he came to that place the night before, with another muleteer, who, being in haste to return home, had laid down the chest where he saw it.
Ganem, who, since his arrival at Bagdad, had minded nothing but his business, was still unacquainted with the power of love, and now felt its first attacks. It had not been in his power to look upon the young lady without being dazzled; and the uneasiness he felt at following the muleteer at a distance, and the fear lest any accident might happen by the way that should deprive him of his conquest, taught him to unravel his thoughts. He was more than usually delighted, when, being arrived safe at home, he saw the chest unloaded. He dismissed the muleteer, and having caused a slave to shut the door of his house, opened the chest, helped the lady out, gave her his hand, and conducted her to his apartment, lamenting how much she must have endured in such close confinement. “If I have suffered,” said she, “I have satisfaction sufficient in what you have done for me, and in the pleasure of seeing myself out of danger.”
Though Ganem’s apartment was very richly furnished, the lady did not so much regard its appearance, as she did the handsome presence and engaging mien of her deliverer, whose politeness and obliging behaviour heightened her gratitude. She sat down on a sofa, and to give the merchant to understand how sensible she was of the service done her, took off her veil. Ganem on his part was sensible of the favour so lovely a lady did in uncovering her face to him, or rather felt he had already a most violent passion for her. Whatever obligations she owed him, he thought himself more than requited by so singular a favour.
The lady dived into Ganem’s thoughts, yet was not at all alarmed, because he appeared very respectful. He, judging she might have occasion to eat, and not willing to trust any but himself with the care of entertaining so charming a guest, went out with a slave to an eating-house, to give directions for an entertainment. From thence he went to a fruiterer, where he chose the finest and best fruit; buying also the choicest wine, and the same bread that was eaten at the caliph’s table.
As soon as he returned home, he with his own hands made a pyramid of the fruit he had bought, and serving it up himself to the lady in a large dish, of the finest china-ware, “Madam,” said he, “be pleased to make choice of some of this fruit, while a more solid entertainment, and more worthy yourself, is preparing.” He would have continued standing before her, but she declared she would not touch any thing, unless he sat down and ate with her. He obeyed; and when they had eaten a little, Ganem observing that the lady’s veil, which she laid down by her on a sofa, was embroidered along the edge with golden letters, begged her permission to look on the embroidery. The lady immediately took up the veil, and delivered it to him, asking him whether he could read? “Madam,” replied he, with a modest air, “a merchant would be ill-qualified to manage his business if he could not at least read and write.” “Well, then,” said she, “read the words which are embroidered on that veil, which gives me an opportunity of telling you my story.”
Ganem took the veil, and read these words, “I am yours, and you are mine, thou descendant from the prophet’s uncle.” That descendant from the prophet’s uncle was the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, who then reigned, and was descended from Abbas, Mahummud’s uncle.
When Ganem perceived these words, “Alas! madam,” said he, in a melancholy tone, “I have just saved your life, and this writing is my death! I do not comprehend all the mystery; but it convinces me I am the most unfortunate of men. Pardon, madam, the liberty I take, but it was impossible for me to see you without giving you my heart. You are not ignorant yourself, that it was not in my power to refuse it you, and that makes my presumption excusable. I proposed to myself to touch your heart by my respectful behaviour, my care, my assiduity, my submission, my constancy; and no sooner have I formed the flattering design, than I am robbed of all my hopes. I cannot long survive so great a misfortune. But, be that as it will, I shall have the satisfaction of dying entirely yours. Proceed, madam, I conjure you, and give me full information of my unhappy fate.”
He could not utter those words without letting fall some tears. The lady was moved; but was so far from being displeased at the declaration he made, that she felt secret joy; for her heart began to yield. However, she concealed her feelings, and as if she had not regarded what Ganem had said. “I should have been very cautious,” answered she, “of strewing you my veil, had I thought it would have given you so much uneasiness; but I do not perceive that what I have to say to you can make your condition so deplorable as you imagine.”
“You must understand,” proceeded she, “in order to acquaint you with my story, that my name is Fetnah (which signifies disturbance), which was given me at my birth, because it was judged that the sight of me would one day occasion many calamities. Of this you cannot be ignorant, since there is nobody in Bagdad but knows that the caliph, my sovereign lord and yours, has a favourite so called.
“I was carried into his palace in my tenderest years, and I have been brought up with all the care that is usually taken with such persons of my sex as are destined to reside there. I made no little progress in all they took the pains to teach me; and that, with some share of beauty, gained me the affection of the caliph, who allotted me a particular apartment adjoining to his own. That prince was not satisfied with such a mark of distinction; he appointed twenty women to wait on me, and as many eunuchs; and ever since he has made me such considerable presents, that I saw myself richer than any queen in the world. You may judge by what I have said, that Zobeide, the caliph’s wife and kinswoman, could not but be jealous of my happiness. Though Haroon has all the regard imaginable for her, she has taken every possible opportunity to ruin me.
“Hitherto I had secured myself against all her snares, but at length I fell under the last effort of her jealousy; and, had it not been for you, must now have been exposed to inevitable death. I question not but she had corrupted one of my slaves, who last night, in some lemonade, gave me a drug, which causes such a dead sleep, that it is easy to dispose of those who have taken it; for that sleep is so profound, that nothing can dispel it for the space of seven or eight hours. I have the more reason to judge so, because naturally I am a very bad sleeper, and apt to wake at the least noise.
“Zobeide, the better to put her design in execution, has availed herself of the absence of the caliph, who went lately to put himself at the head of his troops, to chastise some neighbouring kings, who have formed a league of rebellion. Were it not for this opportunity, my rival, outrageous as she is, durst not have presumed to attempt any thing against my life. I know not what she will do to conceal this action from the caliph, but you see it highly concerns me that you should keep my secret. My life depends on it. I shall be safe in your house as long as the caliph is from Bagdad. It concerns you to keep my adventure private; for should Zobeide know the obligation I owe you, she would punish you for having saved me.
“When the caliph returns, I shall not need to be so much upon my guard. I shall find means to acquaint him with all that has happened, and I am fully persuaded he will be more earnest than myself to requite a service which restores me to his love.”
As soon as Haroon al Rusheed’s beautiful favourite had done speaking, Ganem said, “Madam, I return you a thousand thanks for having given me the information I took the liberty to desire of you; and I beg of you to believe, that you are here in safety; the sentiments you have inspired are a pledge of my secrecy.
“As for my slaves, they may perhaps fail of the fidelity they owe me, should they know by what accident and in what place I had the happiness to find you. I dare assure you, however, that they will not have the curiosity to inquire. It is so natural for young men to purchase beautiful slaves, that it will be no way surprising to them to see you here, believing you to be one, and that I have bought you. They will also conclude that I have some particular reasons for bringing you home as they saw I did. Set your heart, therefore, at rest, as to that point, and remain satisfied that you shall be served with all the respect that is due to the favourite of so great a monarch as our sovereign the caliph. But great as he is, give me leave, madam, to declare, that nothing can make me recall the present I have made you of my heart. I know, and shall never forget, that what belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave;’ but I loved you before you told me that you were engaged to the caliph; it is not in my power to overcome a passion which, though now in its infancy, has all the force of a love strengthened by a perfect of situation. I wish your august and most fortunate lover may avenge you of the malice of Zobeide, by calling you back to him; and when you shall be restored to his wishes, that you may remember the unfortunate Ganem, who is no less your conquest than the caliph. Powerful as that prince is, I flatter myself he will not be able to blot me out of your remembrance. He cannot love you more passionately than I do; and I shall never cease to love you into whatever part of the world I may go to expire, after having lost you.”
Fetnah perceived that Ganem was under the greatest of afflictions, and his situation affected her; but considering the uneasiness she was likely to bring upon herself, by prosecuting the conversation on that subject, which might insensibly lead her to discover the inclination she felt for him; “I perceive,” said she, “that this conversetion gives you too much uneasiness; let us change the subject, and talk of the infinite obligation I owe you. I can never sufficiently express my gratitude, when I reflect that, without your assistance, I should never again have beheld the light of the sun.”
It was happy for them both, that somebody just then knocked at the door; Ganem went to see who it was, and found it to be one of his slaves come to acquaint him that the entertainment was ready. Ganem, who, by way of precaution, would have none of his slaves come into the room where Fetnah was, took what was brought, and served it up himself to his beautiful guest, whose soul was ravished to behold what attention he paid her.
When they had eaten, Ganem took away, as he had covered the table; and having delivered all things at the door of the apartment to his slaves, “Madam,” said he to Fetnah, “you may now perhaps desire to take some rest; I will leave you, and when you have reposed yourself, you shall find me ready to receive your commands.”
Having thus spoken, he left her, and went to purchase two women- slaves. He also bought two parcels, one of fine linen, and the other of all such things as were proper to make up a toilet fit for the caliph’s favourite. Having conducted home the two women- slaves, he presented them to Fetnah, saying, “Madam, a person of your quality cannot be without two waiting-maids, at least, to serve you; be pleased to accept of these.”
Fetnah, admiring Ganem’s attention, said, “My lord, I perceive you are not one that will do things by halves: you add by your courtesy to the obligations I owe you already; but I hope I shall not die ungrateful, and that heaven will soon place me in a condition to requite all your acts of generosity.”
When the women-slaves were withdrawn into a chamber adjoining, he sat down on the sofa, but at some distance from Fetnah, in token of respect. He then began to discourse of his passion. “I dare not so much as hope,” said he, “to excite the least sensibility in a heart like yours, destined for the greatest prince in the world. Alas! it would be a comfort to me in my misfortune, if I could but flatter myself, that you have not looked upon the excess of my love with indifference.” “My lord,” answered Fetnah “Alas! madam,” said Ganem, interrupting her at the word lord, “this is the second time you have done me the honour to call me lord; the presence of the women-slaves hindered me the first time from taking notice of it to you: in the name of God, madam, do not give me this title of honour; it does not belong to me; treat me, I beseech you, as your slave: I am, and shall never cease to be so.”
“No, no,” replied Fetnah, interrupting him in her turn, “I shall be cautious how I treat with such disrespect a man to whom I owe my life. I should be ungrateful, could I say or do any thing that did not become you. Leave me, therefore, to follow the dictates of my gratitude, and do not require of me, that I should misbehave myself towards you, in return for the benefits I have received. I shall never be guilty of such conduct; I am too sensible of your respectful behaviour to abuse it; and I will not hesitate to own, that I do not regard your care with indifference. You know the reasons that condemn me to silence.”
Ganem was enraptured at this declaration; he wept for joy, and not being able to find expressions significant enough, in his own opinion, to return Fetnah thanks, was satisfied with telling her, that as she knew what she owed to the caliph, he, on his part, was not ignorant “that what belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.”
Night drawing on, he rose up to fetch a light, which he brought in himself, as also a collation.
They both sat down at table, and at first complimented each other on the fruit as they presented it reciprocally. The excellence of the wine insensibly drew them both to drink; and having drunk two or three glasses, they agreed that neither should take another glass without first singing some air. Ganem sung verses ex tempore, expressive of the vehemence of his passion; and Fetnah, encouraged by his example, composed and sung verses relating to her adventure, and always containing something which Ganem might take in a sense favourable to himself; except in this, she most exactly observed the fidelity due to the caliph. The collation continued till very late, and the night was far advanced before they thought of parting. Ganem then withdrew to another apartment, leaving Fetnah where she was, the women slaves he had bought coming in to wait upon her.
They lived together in this manner for several days. The young merchant went not abroad, unless upon of the utmost consequence, and even for that took the time when the lady was reposing; for he could not prevail upon himself to lose a moment that might be spent in her company. All his thoughts were taken up with his dear Fetnah, who, on her side, gave way to her inclination, confessed she had no less affection for him than he had for her. However, fond as they were of each other, their respect for the caliph kept them within due bounds, which still heightened their passion.
Whilst Fetnah, thus snatched from the jaws of death, passed her time so agreeably with Ganem, Zobeide was not without some apprehensions in the palace of Haroon al Rusheed.
No sooner had the three slaves, entrusted with the execution of her revenge, carried away the chest, without knowing what it contained, or so much as the least curiosity to inquire (being used to pay a blind obedience to her commands), than she was seized with a tormenting uneasiness; a thousand perplexing thoughts disturbed her rest; sleep fled from her eyes, and she spent the night in contriving how to conceal her crime. “My consort,” said she, “loves Fetnah more than ever he did any of his favourites. What shall I say to him at his return, when he inquires of me after her?” Many contrivances occurred to her, but none were satisfactory. Still she met with difficulties, and knew not where to fix. There lived with her a lady advanced in years, who had bred her up from her infancy. As soon as it was day, she sent for her, and having entrusted her with the secret, said, “My good mother, you have always assisted me with your advice; if ever I stood in need of it, it is now, when the business before you is to still my thoughts, distracted by a mortal anxiety, and to show me some way to satisfy the caliph.”
“My dear mistress,” replied the old lady, “it had been much better not to have run yourself into the difficulties you labour under; but since the thing is done, the best consolation is to think no more of it. All that must now be thought of, is how to deceive the commander of the believers; and I am of opinion, that you should immediately cause a wooden image resembling a dead body to be carved. We will shroud it up in linen, and when shut up in a coffin, it shall be buried in some part of the palace; you shall then immediately cause a marble mausoleum to be built, in the form of a dome, over the burial place, and erect a tomb, which shall be covered with embroidered cloth, and set about with great candlesticks and large wax tapers. There is another thing,” added the old lady, “which ought not to be forgotten; you must put on mourning, and cause the same to be done by your own and Fetnah’s women, your eunuchs, and all the officers of the palace. When the caliph returns, and sees you all and the palace in mourning, he will not fail to ask the occasion of it. You will then have an opportunity of insinuating yourself into his favour, by saying, it was out of respect to him that you paid the last honours to Fetnah, snatched away by sudden death. You may tell him, you have caused a mausoleum to be built, and, in short, that you have paid all the last honours to his favourite, as he would have done himself had he been present. His passion for her being extraordinary, he will certainly go to shed tears upon her grave; and perhaps,” added the old woman, `he will not believe she is really dead. He may, possibly, suspect you have turned her out of the palace through jealousy, and look upon all the mourning as an artifice to deceive him, and prevent his making inquiries after her. It is likely he will cause the coffin to be taken up and opened, and it is certain he will be convinced of her death, as soon as he shall see the figure of a dead body buried. He will be pleased with all you shall have done, and express his gratitude. As for the wooden image, I will myself undertake to have it cut by a carver in the city, who shall not know the purpose for which it is designed. As for your part, madam, order Fetnah’s woman, who yesterday gave her the lemonade, to give out, among her companions, that she has just found her mistress dead in her bed; and in order that they may only think of lamenting, without offering to go into her chamber, let her add, she has already acquainted you with the circumstance, and that you have ordered Mesrour to cause her to be buried.”
As soon as the old lady had spoken, Zobeide took a rich diamond ring out of her casket, and putting it on her finger, and embracing her in a transport of joy, said, “How infinitely am I beholden to you, my good mother! I should never have thought of so ingenious a contrivance. It cannot fail of success, and I begin to recover my peace. I leave the care of the wooden figure to you, and will go myself to order the rest.”
The wooden image was got ready with as much expedition as Zobeide could have wished, and then conveyed by the old lady herself into Fetnah’s bed-chamber, where she dressed it like a dead body, and put it into a coffin. Then Mesrour, who was himself deceived by it, caused the coffin and the representation of Fetnah to be carried away, and buried with the usual ceremonies in the place appointed by Zobeide, the favourite’s women weeping and lamenting, she who had given her the lemonade setting them an example by her cries and lamentations.
That very day Zobeide sent for the architect of the palace, and, according to orders, the mausoleum was finished in a short time. Such potent princesses as the consort of a monarch, whose power extended from east to west, are always punctually obeyed in whatsoever they command. She soon put on mourning with all the court; so that the news of Fetnah’s death was quickly spread over the city.
Ganem was one of the last who heard of it; for, as I have before observed, he hardly ever went abroad. Being, however, at length informed of it, “Madam,” said he to the caliph’s fair favourite, “you are supposed in Bagdad to be dead, and I do not question but that Zobeide herself believes it. I bless heaven that I am the cause, and the happy witness of your being alive; would to God, that, taking advantage of this false report, you would share my fortune, and go far from hence to reign in my heart! But whither does this pleasing transport carry me? I do not consider that you are born to make the greatest prince in the world happy; and that only Haroon al Rusheed is worthy of you. Supposing you could resolve to give him up for me, and that you would follow me, ought I to consent? No, it is my part always to remember, that what belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.'”
The lovely Fetnah, though moved by the tenderness of the passion he expressed, yet prevailed with herself not to encourage it. “My lord,” said she to him, “we cannot obstruct the momentary triumph of Zobeide. I am not surprised at the artifice she uses to conceal her guilt: but let her go on; I flatter myself that sorrow will soon follow her triumph. The caliph will return, and we shall find the means privately to inform him of all that has happened. In the mean time let us be more cautious than ever, that she may not know I am alive. I have already told you the consequences to be apprehended from such a discovery.”
At the end of three months the caliph returned to Bagdad with glory, having vanquished all his enemies. He entered the palace with impatience to embrace Fetnah; but was amazed to see all the officers in mourning; and his concern was redoubled when, approaching the apartment of Zobeide, he beheld that princess coming to meet him in mourning with all her women. He immediately asked her the cause, with much agitation. “Commander of the believers,” answered Zobeide, “I am in mourning for your slave Fetnah; who died so suddenly that it was impossible to apply any remedy to her disorder.” She would have proceeded, but the caliph did not give her time, being so agitated at the news, that he uttered a feeble exclamation, and fainted. On recovering himself, he, with a feeble voice, which sufficiently expressed his extreme grief, asked where his dear Fetnah had been buried. “Sir,” said Zobeide, “I myself took care of her funeral, and spared no cost to make it magnificent. I have caused a marble mausoleum to be built over her grave, and will attend you thither if you desire.”
The caliph would not permit Zobeide to take that trouble, but contented himself to have Mesrour to conduct him. He went thither just as he was, in his camp dress. When he saw the tomb, the wax- lights round it, and the magnificence of the mausoleum, he was amazed that Zobeide should have performed the obsequies of her rival with so much pomp; and being naturally of a jealous temper, suspected his wife’s generosity and fancied his mistress might perhaps be yet alive; that Zobeide, taking advantage of his long absence, might have turned her out of the palace, ordering those she had entrusted to conduct her, to convey her so far off that she might never more be heard of. This was all he suspected; for he did not think Zobeide wicked enough to have attempted the life of his favourite.
The better to discover the truth himself, he ordered the tomb to be removed, and caused the grave and the coffin to be opened in his presence; but when he saw the linen wrapped round the wooden image, he durst not proceed any farther. This devout caliph thought it would be a sacrilegious act to suffer the body of the dead lady to be touched; and this scrupulous fear prevailed over his love and curiosity. He doubted not of Fetnah’s death. He caused the coffin to be shut up again, the grave to be filled, and the tomb to be made as it was before.
The caliph thinking himself obliged to pay some respect to the grave of his favourite, sent for the ministers of religion, the officers of the palace, and the readers of the Koraun; and, whilst they were collecting together, he remained in the mausoleum, moistening with his tears the marble that covered the phantom of his mistress. When all the persons he had sent for were come, he stood before the tomb, and recited long prayers; after which the readers of the Koraun read several, chapters.
The same ceremony was performed every day for a whole month, morning and evening, the caliph being always present, with the grand vizier, and the principal officers of the court, all of them in mourning, as well as the caliph himself, who all the time ceased not to honour the memory of Fetnah with his tears, and would not hear of any business.
The last day of the month, the prayers and reading of the Koraun lasted from morning till break of day the next morning. The caliph, being tired with sitting up so long, went to take some rest in his apartment, and fell asleep upon a sofa, between two of the court ladies, one of them sitting at the bed’s-head, and the other at the feet, who, whilst he slept, were working some embroidery, and observed a profound silence.
She who sat at the bed’s-head, and whose name was Nouron-Nihar, perceiving the caliph was asleep, whispered to the other, called Nagmatos Sohi,”There is great news! The commander of the believers our master will be overjoyed when he awakes, and hears what I have to tell him; Fetnah is not dead, she is in perfect health.” “O heavens!” cried Nagmatos Sohi, in a transport of joy, “is it possible, that the beautiful, the charming, the incomparable Fetnah should be still among the living?” She uttered these words with so much vivacity, and so loud, that the caliph awoke. He asked why they had disturbed his rest? “Alas! my sovereign lord,” answered the slave, “pardon me this indiscretion; I could not without transport hear that Fetnah is still alive; it caused such emotion in me, as I could not suppress.” “What then is become of her,” demanded the caliph, “if she is not dead?” “Chief of the believers,” replied the other, “I this evening received a note from a person unknown, written with Fetnah’s own hand; she gives me an account of her melancholy adventure, and orders me to acquaint you with it. I thought fit, before I fulfilled my commission, to let you take some few moments’ rest, believing you must stand in need of it, after your fatigue; and—-“
“Give me that note,” said the caliph, interrupting her eagerly, “you were wrong to defer delivering it to me.”
The slave immediately presented to him the note, which he opened with much impatience, and in it Fetnah gave a particular account of all that had befallen her, but enlarged a little too much on the attentions of Ganem. The caliph, who was naturally jealous, instead of being provoked at the inhumanity of Zobeide, was more concerned at the infidelity he fancied Fetnah had been guilty of towards him. “Is it so?” said he, after reading the note; “the perfidious wretch has been four months with a young merchant, and has the effrontery to boast of his attention to her. Thirty days are past since my return to Bagdad, and she now thinks of sending me news of herself. Ungrateful creature! whilst I spend the days in bewailing her, she passes them in betraying me. Go to, let us take vengeance of a bold woman, and that bold youth who affronts me.” Having spoken these words, the caliph rose, and went into a hall where he used to appear in public, and give audience to his court. The first gate was opened, and immediately all the courtiers, who were waiting without, entered. The grand vizier, came in, and prostrated himself before the throne. Then rising, he stood before his master, who, in a tone which denoted he would be instantly obeyed, said to him, “Jaaffier, your presence is requisite, for putting in execution an important affair I am about to commit to you. Take four hundred men of my guards with you, and first inquire where a merchant of Damascus lives whose name is Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub. When you have learnt this, repair to his house, and cause it to be razed to the foundations; but first secure Ganem, and bring him hither, with my slave Fetnah, who has lived with him these four months. I will punish her, and make an example of that insolent man, who has presumed to fail in respell to me.”
The grand vizier, having received this positive command, made a low prostration to the caliph, having his hand on his head, in token that he would rather lose it than disobey him, and departed. The first thing he did, was to send to the syndic of the dealers in foreign stuffs and silks, with strict orders to find out the house of the unfortunate merchant. The officer he sent with these orders brought him back word, that he had scarcely been seen for some months, and no man knew what could keep him at home, if he was there. The same officer likewise told Jaaffier where Ganem lived.
Upon this information, that minister, without losing time, went to the judge of the police, whom he caused to bear him company, and attended by a great number of carpenters and masons, with the necessary tools for razing a house, came to Ganem’s residence; and finding it stood detached
from any other, he posted his soldiers round it, to prevent the young merchant’s making his escape.
Fetnah and Ganem had just dined: the lady was sitting at a window next the street; hearing a noise, she looked out through the lattice, and seeing the grand vizier, approach with his attendants, concluded she was their object as well as Ganem. She perceived her note had been received, but had not expected such a consequence, having hoped that the caliph would have taken the matter in a different light. She knew not how long the prince had been returned from his campaign, and though she was acquainted with his jealous temper, yet apprehended nothing on that account. However, the sight of the grand vizier, and the soldiers made her tremble, not indeed for herself, but for Ganem: she did not question clearing herself, provided the caliph would but hear her. As for Ganem, whom she loved less out of gratitude than inclination, she plainly foresaw that his incensed rival might be apt to condemn him, on account of his youth and person. Full of this thought, she turned to the young merchant and said, “Alas! Ganem, we are undone.” Ganem looked through the lattice, and was seized with dread, when he beheld the caliph’s guards with their naked cimeters, and the grand vizier, with the civil magistrate at the head of them. At this sight he stood motionless, and had not power to utter one word. “Ganem,” said the favourite, “there is no time to be lost; if you love me, put on the habit of one of your slaves immediately, and disfigure your face and arms with soot. Then put some of these dishes on your head; you may be taken for a servant belonging to the eating house, and they will let you pass. If they happen to ask you where the master of the house is, answer, without any hesitation, that he is within.” “Alas! madam,” answered Harem, concerned for himself than for Fetnah, “you only take care of me, what will become of you?” “Let not that trouble you,” replied Fetnah, “it is my part to look to that. As for what you leave in this house, I will take care of it, and I hope it will be one day faithfully restored to you, when the caliph’s anger shall be over; but at present avoid his fury. The orders he gives in the heat of passion are always fatal.” The young merchant’s affliction was so great, that he knew not what course to pursue, and would certainly have suffered himself to be seized by the caliph’s soldiers, had not Fetnah pressed him to disguise himself. He submitted to her persuasions, put on the habit of a slave, daubed himself with soot, and as they were knocking at the door, all they could do was to embrace each other tenderly. They were both so overwhelmed with sorrow, that they could not utter a word. Thus they parted. Ganem went out with some dishes on his head: he was taken for the servant of an eating-house, and no one offered to stop him. On the contrary, the grand vizier, who was the first that met him, gave way and let him pass, little thinking that he was the man he looked for. Those who were behind the grand vizier, made way as he had done, and thus favoured his escape He soon reached one of the gates, and got clear of the city.
Whilst he was making the best of his way from the grand vizier, that minister came into the room where Fetnah was sitting on a sofa, and where there were many chests full of Ganem’s clothes, and of the money he had made of his goods.
As soon as Fetnah saw the grand vizier, come into the room, she fell upon her face, and continuing in that posture, as it were to receive her death; “My lord,” said she, “I am ready to undergo the sentence passed against me by the commander of the believers; you need only make it known to me.” “Madam,” answered Jaaffier, falling also down till she had raised herself, “God forbid any man should presume to lay profane hands on you. I do not intend to offer you the least harm. I have no farther orders, than to intreat you will be pleased to go with me to the palace, and to conduct you thither, with the merchant that lives in this house.” “My lord,” replied the favourite, “let us go; I am ready to follow you. As for the young merchant, to whom I am indebted for my life, he is not here, he has been gone about a month since to Damascus, whither his business called him, and has left these chests you see under my care, till he returns. I conjure you to cause them to be carried to the palace, and order them to be secured, that I may perform the promise I made him to take all possible care of them.”
“You shall be obeyed,” said Jaaffier, and immediately sent for porters, whom he commanded to take up the chests, and carry them to Mesrour.
As soon as the porters were gone, he whispered the civil magistrate, committing to him the care of seeing the house razed, but first to cause diligent search to be made for Ganem, who, he suspected, might be hidden, notwithstanding what Fetnah had told him. He then went out, taking her with him, attended by the two slaves who waited on her. As for Ganem’s slaves, they were not regarded; they ran in among the crowd, and it was not known what became of them.
No sooner was Jaaffier out of the house, than the masons and carpenters began to demolish it, and did their business so effectually, that in a few hours none of it remained. But the civil magistrate, not finding Ganem, after the strictest search, sent to acquaint the grand vizier, before that minister reached the palace. “Well,” said Haroon al Rusheed, seeing him come into his closet, “have you executed my orders?” “Yes,” answered Jaaffier “the house Ganem lived in is levelled with the ground, and I have brought you your favourite Fetnah; she is at your closet door, and I will call her in, if you command me. As for the young merchant, we could not find him, though every place has been searched, and Fetnah affirms that he has been gone a month to Damascus.”
Never was passion equal to that of the caliph, when he heard that Ganem had made his escape. As for his favourite, believing that she had been false to him, he would neither see nor speak to her. “Mesrour,” said he to the chief of the eunuchs, who was then present, “take the ungrateful and perfidious Fetnah, and shut her up in the dark tower.” That tower was within the precinct of the palace, and commonly served as a prison for the favourites who any way offended the caliph.
Mesrour being used to execute his sovereign’s orders, however unjust, without making any answer, obeyed this with some reluctance. He signified his concern to Fetnah, who was the more grieved because she had assured herself, that the caliph would not refuse to speak to her. She was obliged to submit to her hard fate, and to follow Mesrour, who conducted her to the dark tower, and there left her.
In the mean time, the enraged caliph dismissed his grand vizier, and only hearkening to his passion, wrote the following letter with his own hand to the king of Syria, his cousin and tributary, who resided at Damascus.
“This letter is to inform you, that a merchant of Damascus, whose name is Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub, has seduced the most amiable of my women slaves, called Fetnah, and is fled. It is my will, that when you have read my letter, you cause search to be made for Ganem, and secure him. When he is in your power, you shall cause him to be loaded with irons, and for three days successively let him receive fifty strokes of the bastinado. Then let him be led through all parts of the city by a crier, proclaiming, This is the smallest punishment the commander of the believers inflicts on him that offends his lord, and debauches one of his slaves.’ After that you shall send him to me under a strong guard. It is my will that you cause his house to be plundered; and after it has been razed, order the materials to be carried out of the city into the middle of the plain. Besides this, if he has father, mother, sister, wives, daughters, or other kindred, cause them to be stripped; and when they are naked, expose them three days to the whole city, forbidding any person on pain of death to afford them shelter. I expect you will without delay execute my command.”
The caliph having written this letter, dispatched it by an express, ordering him to make all possible speed, and to take pigeons along with him, that he might the sooner hear what had been done by Mahummud Zinebi.
The pigeons of Bagdad have this peculiar quality, that from wherever they may be carried to, they return to Bagdad as soon as they are set at liberty, especially when they have young ones. A letter rolled up is made fast under their wing, and by that means advice is speedily received from such places as it is desired.
The caliph’s courier travelled night and day, as his master’s impatience required; and being come to Damascus, went directly to king Zinebi’s palace, who sat upon his throne to receive the caliph’s letter. The courier having delivered it, Mahummud looking at it, and knowing the hand, stood up to shew his respect, kissed the letter, and laid it on his head, to denote he was ready submissively to obey the orders it contained. He opened it, and having read it, immediately descended from his throne, and without losing time, mounted on horseback with the principal officers of his household. He sent for the civil magistrate; and went directly to Ganem’s house, attended by all his guards.
Ganem’s mother had never received any letter from him since he had left Damascus; but the other merchants with whom he went to Bagdad were returned, and all of them told her they had left her son in perfect however, seeing he did not return, she could not but be persuaded that he was dead, and was so fully convinced of this in her imagination, that she went into mourning. She bewailed Ganem as if she had seen him die, and had herself closed his eyes: never mother expressed greater sorrow; and so far was she from seeking any comfort, that she delighted in indulging her grief. She had caused a dome to be built in the middle of the court belonging to her house, in which she placed a tomb. She spent the greatest part of the days and nights in weeping under that dome, as if her son had been buried there: her daughter bore her company, and mixed her tears with hers.
It was now some time since they had thus devoted themselves to sorrow, and the neighbourhood, hearing their cries and lamentations, pitied such tender relations, when king Mahummud Zinebi knocked at the door, which being opened by a slave belonging to the family, he hastily entered the house, inquiring for Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub.
Though the slave had never seen king Zinebi, she guessed by his retinue that he must be one of the principal officers of Damascus. “My lord,” said she, “that Ganem you inquire for is dead; my mistress, his mother, is in that monument, lamenting him.” The king, not regarding what was said by the slave, caused all the house to be diligently searched by his guards for Ganem. He then advanced towards the monument, where he saw the mother and daughter sitting on a mat, and their faces appeared to him bathed in tears. These poor women immediately veiled themselves, as soon as they beheld a man at the door of the dome; but the mother, knowing the king of Damascus, got up, and ran to cast herself at his feet. “My good lady,” said he, “I was looking for your son, Ganem, is he here?” “Alas! sir,” cried the mother, “it is a long time since he has ceased to be: would to God I had at least put him into his coffin with my own hands, and had had the comfort of having his bones in this monument! O my son, my dear son!” She would have said more, but was oppressed with such violent sorrow that she was unable to proceed.
Zinebi was moved; for he was a prince of a mild nature, and had much compassion for the sufferings of the unfortunate. “If Ganem alone be guilty,” thought he to himself, “why should the mother and the daughter, who are innocent, be punished? Ah! cruel Haroon al Rusheed! what a mortification do you put upon me, in making me the executioner of your vengeance, obliging me to persecute persons who have not offended you.”
The guards whom the king had ordered to search for Ganem, came and told him their search had been vain. He was fully convinced of this; the tears of those two women would not leave him any room to doubt. It distracted him to be obliged to execute the caliph’s order. “My good lady,” said he to Ganem’s mother, “quit this monument with your daughter, it is no place of safety for you.” They went out, and he, to secure them against any insult, took off his own robe, and covered them both with it, bidding them keep close to him. He then ordered the populace to be let in to plunder, which was performed with the utmost rapaciousness, and with shouts which terrified Ganem’s mother and sister the more, because they knew not the reason. The rabble carried off the richest goods, chests full of wealth, fine Persian and Indian carpets, cushions covered with cloth of gold and silver, fine China ware; in short, all was taken away, till nothing remained but the bare walls of the house: and it was a dismal spectacle for the unhappy ladies, to see all their goods plundered, without knowing why they were so cruelly treated.
When the house was plundered, Mahummud ordered the civil magistrate to raze the house and monument; and while that was doing, he carried away the mother and daughter to his palace. There it was he redoubled their affliction, by acquainting them with the caliph’s will. “He commands me,” said he to them, “to cause you to be stripped, and exposed naked for three days to the view of the people. It is with the utmost reluctance that I execute such a cruel and ignominious sentence.” The king delivered these words with such an air, as plainly made it appear his heart was really pierced with grief and compassion. Though the fear of being dethroned prevented his following the dictates of his pity, yet he in some measure moderated the rigour of the caliph’s orders, by causing large shifts, without sleeves, to be made of coarse horse-hair for Ganem’s mother, and his sister.
The next day, these two victims of the caliph’s rage were stripped of their clothes, and their horse-hair shifts put upon them; their head-dress was also taken away, so that their dishevelled hair hung floating on their backs. The daughter had the finest hair, and it hung down to the ground. In this condition they were exposed to the people. The civil magistrate, attended by his officers, were along with them, and they were conducted through the city. A crier went before them, who every now and then cried, “This is the punishment due to those who have drawn on themselves the indignation of the commander of the believers.”
Whilst they walked in this manner along the streets of Damascus, with their arms and feet naked, clad in such a strange garment, and endeavouring to hide their confusion under their hair, with which they covered their faces, all the people were dissolved in tears; more especially the ladies, considering them as innocent persons, as they beheld them through their lattice windows, and being particularly moved by the daughter’s youth and beauty, they made the air ring with their shrieks, as they passed before their houses. The very children, frightened at those shrieks, and at the spectacle that occasioned them, mixed their cries with the general lamentation. In short, had an enemy been in Damascus, putting all to fire and sword, the consternation could not have been greater.
It was near night when this dismal scene concluded. The mother and daughter were both conducted back to king Mahummud’s palace. Not being used to walk bare-foot, they were so spent, that they lay a long time in a swoon. The queen of Damascus, highly afflicted at their misfortunes, notwithstanding the caliph’s prohibition to relieve them, sent some of her women to comfort them, with all sorts of refreshments and wine, to recover their spirits.
The queen’s women found them still in a swoon, and almost past receiving any benefit by what they offered them. However, with much difficulty they were brought to themselves. Ganem’s mother immediately returned them thanks for their courtesy. “My good madam,” said one of the queen’s ladies to her, “we are highly concerned at your affliction, and the queen of Syria, our mistress, has done us a favour in employing us to assist you. We can assure you, that princess is much afflicted at your misfortunes, as well as the king her consort.” Ganem’s mother entreated the queen’s women to return her majesty a thousand thanks from her and her daughter, and then directing her discourse to the lady who spoke to her, “Madam,” said she, “the king has not told me why the chief of the believers inflicts so many outrages on us: pray be pleased to tell us what crimes we have been guilty of.” “My good lady,” answered the other, “the origin of your misfortunes proceeds from your son Ganem. He is not dead, as you imagine. He is accused of having seduced the beautiful Fetnah, the best beloved of the caliph’s favourites; but having, by flight, withdrawn himself from that prince’s indignation, the punishment is fallen on you. All condemn the caliph’s resentment, but all fear him; and you see king Zinebi himself dares not resist his orders, for fear of incurring his displeasure. All we can do is to pity you, and exhort you to have patience.”
“I know my son,” answered Ganem’s mother; “I have educated him carefully, and in that respect which is due to the commander of the believers. He cannot have committed the crime he is accused of; I dare answer for his innocence. But I will cease to murmur and complain, since it is for him that I suffer, and he is not dead. O Ganem!” added she, in a transport of affection and joy, “my dear son Ganem! is possible that you are still alive? I am no longer concerned for the loss of my fortune; and how harsh and unjust soever the caliph’s orders may be, I forgive him, provided heaven has preserved my son. I am only concerned for my daughter; her sufferings alone afflict me; yet I believe her to be so good a sister as to follow my example.”
On hearing these words, the young lady, who till then had appeared insensible, turned to her mother, and clasping her arms about her neck, “Yes, dear mother,” said she, “I will always follow your example, whatever extremity your love for my brother may reduce us to.”
The mother and daughter thus interchanging their sighs and tears, continued a considerable time in such moving embraces. In the mean time the queen’s women, who were much affected at the spectacle, omitted no persuasions to prevail with Ganem’s mother to take some sustenance. She ate a morsel out of complaisance, and her daughter did the like.
The caliph having ordered that Ganem’s kindred should be exposed three days successively to the sight of the people, in the condition already mentioned, the unhappy ladies afforded the same spectacle the second time next day, from morning till night. But that day and the following, the streets, which at first had been full of people, were now quite empty. All the merchants, incensed at the ill usage of Abou Ayoub’s widow and daughter, shut up their shops, and kept themselves close within their houses. The ladies, instead of looking through their lattice windows, withdrew into the back parts of their houses. There was not a person to be seen in the public places through which those unfortunate women were carried. It seemed as if all the inhabitants of Damascus had abandoned their city.
On the fourth day, the king resolving punctually to obey the caliph’s orders, though he did not approve of them, sent criers into all quarters of the city to make proclamation, strictly commanding all the inhabitants of Damascus, and strangers, of what condition soever, upon pain of death, and having their bodies cast to the dogs to be devoured, not to receive Ganem’s mother and sister into their houses, or give them a morsel of bread or a drop of water, and, in a word, not to afford them the least support, or hold the least correspondence with them.
When the criers had performed what the king had enjoined them, that prince ordered the mother and the daughter to be turned out of the palace, and left to their choice to go where they thought fit. As soon as they appeared, all persons fled from them, so great an impression had the late prohibition made upon all. They easily perceived that every body shunned them; but not knowing the reason, were much surprised; and their amazement was the greater, when coming into any street, or among any persons, they recollected some of their best friends, who immediately retreated with as much haste as the rest. “What is the meaning of this,” said Ganem’s mother; “do we carry the plague about us? Must the unjust and barbarous usage we have received render us odious to our fellow-citizens? Come, my child,” added she, “let us depart from Damascus with all speed; let us not stay any longer in a city where we are become frightful to our very friends.”
The two wretched ladies, discoursing in this manner, came to one of the extremities of the city, and retired to a ruined house to pass the night. Thither some Mussulmauns, out of charity and compassion, resorted to them after the day was shut in. They carried them provisions, but durst not stay to comfort them, for fear of being discovered, and punished for disobeying the caliph’s orders.
In the mean time king Zinebi had let fly a pigeon to give the caliph an account of his exact obedience. He informed him of all that had been executed, and conjured him to direct what he would have done with Ganem’s mother and sister. He soon received the caliph’s answer in the same way, which was, that he should banish them from Damascus for ever. Immediately the king of Syria sent men to the old house, with orders to take the mother and daughter, and to conduct them three days’ journey from Damascus, and there to leave them, forbidding them ever to return to the city.
Zinebi’s men executed their commission, but being less exact their master, in the strict performance of the caliph’s orders, they in pity gave the wretched ladies some small pieces of money, and each of them a scrip, which they hung about their necks, to carry their provisions.
In this miserable state they came to the first village. The peasants’ wives flocked about them, and, as it appeared through their disguise that they were people of some condition, asked them what was the occasion of their travelling in a habit that did not seem to belong to them. Instead of answering the question, they fell to weeping, which only served to heighten the curiosity of the peasants, and to move their compassion. Ganem’s mother told them what she and her daughter had endured; at which the good countrywomen were sensibly afflicted, and endeavoured to comfort them. They treated them as well as their poverty would permit, took off their horse-hair shifts, which were very uneasy to them, and put on them others which they gave them, with shoes, and something to cover their heads, and save their hair.
Having expressed their gratitude to those charitable women, Jalib al Koolloob and her mother departed from that village, taking short journeys towards Aleppo. They used at dusk to retire near or into the mosques, where they passed the night on the mat, if there was any, or else on the bare pavement; and sometimes rested in the public places appointed for the use of travellers. As for sustenance, they did not want, for they often came to places where bread, boiled rice, and other provisions are distributed to all travellers who desire it.
At length they came to Aleppo, but would not stay there, and continuing their journey towards the Euphrates, crossed the river, and entered Mesopotamia, which they traversed as far as Moussoul. Thence, notwithstanding all they had endured, they proceeded to Bagdad. That was the place they had fixed their thoughts upon, hoping to find Ganem, though they ought not to have fancied that he was in a city where the caliph resided; but they hoped, because they wished it; their affection for him increasing instead of diminishing, with their misfortunes. Their conversation was generally about him, and they inquired for him of all they met. But let us leave Jalib al Koolloob and her mother, and return to Fetnah.
She was still confined closely in the dark tower, since the day that had been so fatal to Ganem and herself. However, disagreeable as her prison was to her, it was much less grievous than the thoughts of Ganem’s misfortune, the uncertainty of whose fate was a killing affliction. There was scarcely a moment in which she did not lament him.
The caliph was accustomed to walk frequently at night within the enclosure of his palace, for he was the most inquisitive prince in the world, and sometimes, by those night-walks, came to the knowledge of things that happened in his court, which would otherwise never have reached his ear. One of those nights, in his walk, he happened to pass by the dark tower, and fancying he heard somebody talk, stops, and drawing near the door to listen, distinctly heard these words, which Fetnah, whose thoughts were always on Ganem, uttered with a loud voice: “O Ganem, too unfortunate Ganem! where are you at this time, whither has thy cruel fate led thee? Alas! it is I that have made you wretched! why did you not let me perish miserably, rather than afford me your generous relief? What melancholy return have you received for your care and respect? The commander of the faithful, who ought to have rewarded, persecutes you; and in requital for having always regarded me as a person reserved for his bed, you lose your fortune, and are obliged to seek for safety in flight. O caliph, barbarous caliph, how can you exculpate yourself, when you shall appear with Ganem before the tribunal of the Supreme