One Thousand and One Nights, page 1331
The genius answered, “It is he!” And as he stood looking at the young prince with astonishment, added, “You do not perceive how and why all this has happened. I could explain to you all these mysteries; but to what purpose? It is not necessary for weak men to know the threads by which their fates are linked together: suffice it to know that it was necessary for you to perform all this, that you might be tried: you are found worthy, and Heaven rewards you with Maryam, the early companion of your youth, now to be your wife.”
Then Medjeddin turned towards Maryam, and looked inquiringly at Salek, her father. This latter said, “With joy I listen to the will of fate; the highest wish of my heart will now be fulfilled.”
“Know,” continued the genius, “that the slain bird was the enchanter who transformed the princess Jasmin and the prince Mesoud. They were also to pass through trials; thus it was decreed by fate. Because the enchanter only fulfilled the will of fate from selfish motives, and carried his revenge beyond it, and contrary to it, the king of the genii commanded me to slay him.”
With these words he disappeared from their sight. They returned now in happy union to the city; and El Kattab, who had built his hut at the edge of the wood to be always near the place of his sorrow, dwelt again in his house with his children. The prince proceeded to Zanguebar in the same ship that had brought Medjeddin. He was received there with great joy, and was soon married to his early love. But Medjeddin’s name lived long in their memory, and in that of all the inhabitants of that island.
When the caliph Haroun al Raschid heard of Medjeddin’s return, he had him called before him, and made him relate his history. The caliph was so pleased with him that he took him into his palace, and gave him an important post in his court. His history he caused to be inscribed in the records of his kingdom. And when Giafar, his aged vizier, expressed a wish to end his life in quietness, the caliph raised Medjeddin to the grand viziership; and he continued long in this office, to the pleasure of his friends and the happiness of the people, by whom he was greatly beloved.
VIII.
THE STORY OF KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR ATALMULC.
The city of Damascus is one of the most populous and flourishing cities of the East, and to this capital of a rich kingdom travellers and caravans arrive from all the countries of the world. Its sovereigns bear the title of “Prince of the Believers,” and their person is sacred.
Bedreddin-Lolo, king of Damascus, had for his grand vizir a man celebrated in history for his goodness. This minister, whose real name was Aswad, but whose great virtues had acquired for him the surname of Atalmulc, was in every way worthy of the high name he had so obtained; uniting to an indefatigable zeal for the king’s service a vigilance that nothing could deceive, a penetrating and capacious mind, and a disinterestedness that was universally admired. But he was surnamed the “sorrowful” vizir, because he appeared to be always plunged in a profound melancholy. Whatever he did at court was performed in a grave and serious manner, and he never smiled at the wittiest remark that was made in his presence.
A gift to the kingdom.
One day the king entertained this vizir and Sedif-Elmuloak, his favourite, and related to them, laughing immoderately all the while, the following misfortunes that happened to a rich old miser.
THE OLD PAIR OF SLIPPERS.
There was at Bagdad a merchant very notorious for his avarice, and his name was Abou-Cassem-Tambouri. Although he was enormously rich, his clothes were constantly in rags and tatters, and his turban, made of coarse stuff, was so dirty that its colour could no longer be distinguished. Of all his garments, however, his slippers were the most remarkable; the soles were kept together by large, clumsy nails, and the upper leathers were pieced in every direction. The famous ship Argo was not made up of a greater number of separate fragments. During the ten years of their existence as slippers, the cleverest cobblers of Bagdad had exerted their utmost skill to tag together their remains, and had only succeeded by adding piece on piece, by which means they had become so heavy, that they had passed into a proverb; and when any one wished to describe something weighty, the slippers of Cassem were always the object of comparison.
One day, when this merchant was taking a walk in the great bazaar of the city, a proposal was made to him to buy a considerable quantity of glass; he agreed to the offer, because it was an advantageous one; and having heard a few days afterwards, that a perfumer who had fallen into difficulties had nothing left but some rose-water, which he would of course be obliged to sell as speedily as possible, Cassem took advantage of the poor man’s misfortune, and purchased it at less than half its value. This successful stroke of business had put him into good humour, and instead of giving a great feast, according to the custom of Eastern merchants, when they have made an excellent bargain, he thought it better to take a bath, a luxury which he had not enjoyed for a long time.
Whilst he was taking off his clothes, one of his friends, or at least one who pretended to be a friend — for it is a rare thing for a miser to have one — remarked to him that his slippers made him the laughing-stock of the whole city, and that he certainly ought to purchase a new pair.
“I have long thought of doing so,” replied Cassem; “but my old ones are not so very bad, and will last me for some time even yet.” While talking, he stripped off his clothes, and entered the bath.
At this juncture the cadi of Bagdad came also to take one. Cassem, having finished his bath before the judge, went into the first apartment, where he found his clothes, but not his slippers, which had disappeared, and in their place was a new pair, which our miser was convinced were a present from the man who had made him such a friendly remonstrance about them. With that he made no more ado, but put the new pair on his own feet, thus sparing himself the pain of buying new ones, and left the bath overjoyed with his prize.
When the cadi had finished his bath, his slaves looked about in vain, for their master’s slippers, and finding only a wretched pair, which were immediately recognized as Cassem’s, the police ran after the supposed sharper, and brought him back with the stolen goods upon his feet. The cadi, after having exchanged the slippers, sent Cassem to prison; and, as he was well known to be rich as well as avaricious, he was not allowed to come out of prison until he had paid a handsome fine.
On returning home the afflicted Cassem threw his slippers, in a rage, into the Tigris, which flowed beneath his windows. A few days after, some fishermen, drawing up a net heavier than usual, found in it Cassem’s slippers. The nails, with which they had been patched, had broken the meshes of the net. The fishermen, out of spite to Cassem and his slippers, threw them into his room by the open window, and in their passage they struck the bottles containing the rose-water, and knocking them down, the bottles were broken and the water totally lost.
The grief and wrath of Cassem on seeing this may easily be conceived. He cursed his slippers, and tearing out the hair from his beard, vowed that they should cause him no more mischief; and so saying, he took a spade, and digging a hole in his garden, buried them there.
One of his neighbours, however, who had borne him a grudge for a long time, perceived him turning up the earth, and ran and told the governor that Cassem had dug up a treasure in his garden. This was enough to excite the cupidity of the officer, and he sent forthwith for Cassem. In vain our miser declared that he had not found money, that he was only employed in burying his slippers. The governor had calculated on his bribe, and the afflicted Cassem could only regain his liberty by paying down a second large sum.
Our friend, in an extremity of despair, consigned his slippers to Shitan, and went and threw them into an aqueduct at some distance from the city, thinking that this time he should hear no more of them. But as though the evil spirit he had invoked was determined to play him a trick, the slippers somehow found their way just to the very pipe of the aqueduct, by this means preventing the flowing of the water. The persons who had the care of the aqueduct having gone to ascertain the cause of the stoppage, and to remove it, carried Cassem’s slippers to the governor of the city, declaring them to be the cause of all the injury. Their unfortunate owner was thrown again into prison, and condemned to pay a larger fine than before. The governor who had punished the offence, and who pretended to be indebted to no one for any thing, returned Cassem’s precious slippers to him again most faithfully; and Cassem, in order to free himself from all the evils which they had brought upon him, resolved to burn them. As they were saturated with water, he first of all put them out to dry in the sun on the terrace of his house. But Cassem’s evil genius had not yet quite done with his tricks, and the last which he played him was the worst of all.
The Devil.
A neighbour’s dog prowling along the terrace on the housetops spied out the slippers, and, darting at them, carried off one of them. As, however, the dog was playing with it, and tossing it about, he contrived to let it fall off the terrace on to the head of a woman who happened to be passing below. The fright and the violence of the blow together, made the poor woman quite ill; and her husband having carried his complaint before the cadi, Cassem was condemned to pay a fine proportionate to the misfortune of which he had been the cause. Going home, he took up his slippers, and returned to the cadi with them in his hands.
“My lord,” he exclaimed with a vehemence which excited the judge’s laughter, “my lord, look at the fatal cause of all my troubles! These abominable slippers have at length reduced me to poverty; be pleased now to issue a decree, in order that the misfortunes which they will, no doubt, still continue to occasion, may not be imputed to me.”
The cadi could not refuse to comply with this request, and Cassem learned, at great expense, the danger there is in not changing one’s slippers often enough.
The vizir listened to this story with such a serious countenance that Bedreddin was astonished.
“Atalmulc,” he said, “you are of a strange disposition; you seem always sad and melancholy. During ten years that you have been in my service I have never seen the slightest sign of pleasure on your countenance.”
“May it please your majesty,” replied the vizir, “you need not be surprised at it; all have their secret sorrows; there is no man on earth who is exempt from them.”
“Your remark is surely untrue,” replied the king. “Do you mean to say that all men have some secret anxiety preying on their minds, because you appear in that state? Do you really believe this to be the truth?”
“Yes, your majesty,” replied Atalmulc; “such is the condition of all the children of Adam; our bosoms are incapable of enjoying perfect ease. Judge of others by yourself. Is your majesty quite contented?”
“Oh, as to me,” exclaimed Bedreddin, “that is impossible! I have enemies to deal with — the weight of an empire on my hands — a thousand cares to distract my thoughts, and disturb the repose of my life; but I am convinced that there are in the world a vast number of persons whose days run on in unruffled enjoyment.”
The vizir Atalmulc, however, pertinaciously adhered to what he had stated, so that the king, seeing him so strongly attached to his opinion, said to him:
“If no one is exempt from vexation, all the world, at any rate, is not like you, wholly overcome by affliction. You have made me, however, very curious to know what it is that has rendered you so pensive and sorrowful; tell me therefore the reason of your melancholy.”
“I shall comply with your majesty’s wish,” replied the vizir, “and reveal the cause of my secret cares to you, by relating the history of my life.”
THE HISTORY OF ATALMULC, SURNAMED “THE SORROWFUL VIZIR,” AND THE PRINCESS ZELICA.
I am the only son of a rich jeweller of Bagdad. My father, whose name was Cogia Abdallah, spared no expense in my education; having from my earliest infancy hired masters, who taught me the various sciences, philosophy, law, theology, and more particularly the different languages of Asia, in order that they might be useful to me in my travels, if I should ever make any in that part of the world.
Shortly after this my father died, and when the funeral ceremony, which was magnificent, was over, I took possession of all his immense property. Instead of giving myself up to the pursuit of pleasure, I resolved to devote myself to my father’s profession. Being well versed in the knowledge of precious stones, I had reason to believe that I should succeed in business, and accordingly I went into partnership with two merchant jewellers of Bagdad, friends of my father, who were about to undertake a trading expedition to Ormus. At Basra we hired a vessel, and embarked on our enterprise from the bay which bears the name of that city.
Our companions on board were agreeable; the ship wafted by favourable winds glided swiftly through the waves. We passed the time in festive mirth, and our voyage promised to end as pleasantly as we could desire, when my two associates gave me a startling proof that they were not the honourable characters I had supposed. We were just at the end of our voyage, and being in good spirits on that account, we held a sort of farewell feast, and did ample justice to some exquisite wines which we had laid in at Basra. For my part, being in the highest spirits, I made copious libations, and, on retiring to rest, lay down on a sofa, without taking off my clothes. In the middle of the night, while I was buried in profound slumber, my partners took me up in their arms, and threw me over-board through the cabin window. Death would seem inevitable under the circumstances, and in truth it is still impossible for me to imagine how I was fortunate enough to survive such a catastrophe. The sea was running high at the time, but the waves, as if Heaven had commanded them to spare me, instead of overwhelming me, bore me to the foot of a mountain, and cast me violently on shore. As soon as I recovered the shock, I found myself safe and sound on the beach, where I passed the remainder of the night in thanking God for my deliverance, at which I could not sufficiently wonder.
At break of day I clambered up with great difficulty to the top of the mountain, which was very steep, and met there with some peasants of the neighbourhood, who were occupied in collecting crystal, which they afterwards sold at Ormus. I related to them the danger in which my life had been placed, and my escape seemed miraculous to them, as well as to myself. These worthy people took pity on me, gave me part of their provisions, which consisted of honey and rice, and as soon as they had finished gathering their crystal, acted as my guides to the great city of Ormus. I put up at a caravansary, where the first object that met my eyes was one of my associates.
His surprise was great at seeing a man whom he no doubt believed to be safely housed in some marine monster’s stomach, and he ran off instantly to find his companion, in order to acquaint him with my arrival, and to plan how they should receive me. They soon settled as to their course of proceeding, and, returning to the place where I was, they took no notice of me, and studiously conducted themselves as though they had never seen me before.
“O traitors!” I exclaimed, “Heaven frustrated your murderous intentions, and in spite of your cruelty I am still alive; give me back instantly all my precious stones; I will no longer associate with such vile wretches.”
On hearing these words, which ought to have overwhelmed them with shame and remorse, they had the impudence to reply:
“O thief and rogue! who are you, and where do you come from? What precious stones do you speak of that we have belonging to you?”
So saying, they set on me, and gave me several blows with a stick. I threatened to complain to the cadi, but they anticipated me by going to that judge themselves. Bowing down before him, after having previously taken care to present him with some valuable brilliants, which no doubt belonged to me, they said to him:
“O lamp of justice! light which dispels the darkness of deceit! We have recourse to you. We are poor strangers, come from the ends of the earth to trade here; is it right that a thief should insult us, and will you permit that he should deprive us by an imposture of what we have acquired at the risk of our lives, and after running a thousand dangers?”
“Who is the man of whom you make this complaint?” asked the cadi.
“My lord,” they replied, “we do not know him, we never saw him before this morning.”
At this moment I presented myself before the judge, to make my own complaint, but as soon as they saw me they exclaimed:
“Here is the man — here is the wretch, the arrant thief! He is even impudent enough to venture into your palace, and show himself before you, the very sight of whom ought to frighten the guilty. Great judge, condescend to protect us.”
I now approached the cadi, in order to address him, but having no presents to make to him, I found it impossible to get him to listen to my story. The calm and unmoved aspect with which I spoke to him, proceeding from the testimony of a good conscience, was thought by the cadi’s prejudiced mind to arise from impudence, and he ordered his archers to convey me instantly to prison, an order which they lost no time in executing. So that while I, an innocent man, was loaded with chains, my partners departed, not only unpunished but in triumph, and well persuaded that a new miracle would require to be wrought to deliver me from the hands of the cadi.
And, indeed, my escape from my present difficulty might not have been of so fortunate a nature as that from drowning, had not an incident occurred which showed the goodness of Heaven still visibly displayed on my behalf. The peasants who had brought me to Ormus, having heard by chance that I had been put in prison, moved with compassion, went to the cadi, and told him in what way they had fallen in with me, together with all the details which they had heard from myself on the mountain.
This recital began to open the eyes of the judge, and caused him to regret that he had not listened to me. He forthwith resolved to investigate the matter; and first of all sent to the caravansary to inquire for the two merchants, but they had hastily decamped, and returned on board the ship, which had put to sea; for in spite of the bias of the cadi in their favour they had taken the alarm. Their rapid flight effectually convinced the judge that I had been committed to prison unjustly, and he gave orders to set me at liberty. Such was the termination of the partnership I had entered into with the two honest jewellers.
