The jeweller had been expected with great impatience by his family the day he went forth with a man who came to ask for him, and whom he did not know; but now he was quite given over, and it was no longer doubted but some disaster had befallen him. His wife, children, and servants, were in the greatest alarm, and were lamenting him. When he arrived, their joy was very great; yet they were troubled to see that he was so much altered in the short interval, that he was hardly to be known. This was occasioned by the great fatigue of the preceding day, and the fears he had undergone all night, which would not let him sleep. Finding himself much disordered, he continued at home two days, and would admit only one of his intimate friends to visit him.
The third day, finding himself something better, he thought he might recover strength by going abroad to take the air; and therefore went to the shop of a rich merchant his acquaintance, with whom he continued long in discourse. As he was rising to take leave of his friend and go home, he observed a woman making a sign to him, whom he presently knew to be the confidant of Schemselnihar. Between fear and joy, he made what haste he could away, without looking at her; but she followed him, as he feared she would, the place they were in being by no means proper to hold a conversation. As he walked a little faster than ordinary, she not being able to overtake him, every now and then she called out to him to stay.
He heard her; but after what had happened, he did not think fit to speak to her in public, for fear of giving cause to suspect that he was connected with Schemselnihar. It was known to every body in Bagdad that this woman belonged to her, and executed all her little commissions. He continued the same pace, and at length came to a mosque, where he knew but few people came. He entered it, and she followed him, and they had a long conversation together, without any body overhearing them.
Both the jeweller and confidant expressed mutual joy at seeing each other, after the strange adventure of the robbers, and their reciprocal apprehension for each other, without regarding their own particular persons.
The jeweller wished her to relate to him how she escaped with the two slaves, and what she knew of Schemselnihar from the time he lost sight of her; but so great was her eagerness to know what had happened to him from the time of their unexpected separation, that he found himself obliged to satisfy her. Having given you the detail you desired, said he, oblige me in your turn, which she did in the following manner:
When I first saw the robbers, said she, I hastily imagined that they were soldiers of the caliph’s guard, and that the caliph being informed of Schemselnihar’s going out, had sent them to take away her life, the life of the prince, and of us all. Under this impression I immediately got up to the leads of your house, when the thieves entered the chamber where the prince and Schemselnihar were, and I was soon after followed by that lady’s two slaves. From leads to leads, we came at last to a house of very honest people, who received us with much civility, and with whom we lodged that night.
Next morning, after thanking the master of the house for our good usage, we returned to Schemselnihar’s palace, where we entered in great disorder and distress, because we could not learn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women of Schemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their lady. We told them we had left her at the house of one of her female friends, and that she would send for us when she had a mind to come home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.
x
For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness, and when night came, opening a small private gate, I espied a little boat on the canal which seemed driven by the stream. I called to the waterman and desired him to row up each side of the river, and look if he could see a lady; if he found her, to bring her along with him. The two slaves and I waited impatiently for his return, and at length about midnight, we saw the boat coming down with two men in it and a woman lying along in the stern. When the boat was come up, the two men helped the woman to rise, and then it was I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I cannot express my joy at seeing her.
I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat; she had great need of my assistance, for she could hardly stand. When she was landed, she whispered to me in a tone expressive of her affliction, and bid me go and take a purse of a thousand pieces of gold and give to the two soldiers that had accompanied her. I committed her to the two slaves to support her, and having ordered the two soldiers to wait for me a moment, I took the purse, and returned instantly: I gave it to the soldiers, and having paid the waterman, shut the door.
I then followed my lady, and overtook her before she was got up to her chamber. We immediately undressed her, and put her to bed, where she had not long been, before she seemed ready to give up the ghost all the rest of the night. The day following, her other women expressed a great desire to see her; but I told them she had been greatly fatigued, and wanted rest to restore her strength. The other two women and I gave her all the assistance in our power, and that she could expect from our attention. She persisted in taking nothing that we offered her: and we should have despaired of her life, if I had not at last perceived that the wine which we gave her every now and then had a sensible effect in restoring her strength. By importunity we overcame her obstinacy, and at length prevailed with her to eat.
When she came to the use of her speech, for she had hitherto only wept, groaned, and sighed, I begged of her to tell me how she had escaped out of the hands of the robbers. Why would you require of me, said she, with a profound sigh, to renew my grief? Would to God the robbers had taken away my life, rather than preserved it; my misfortunes would then have had an end, whereas I live but to increase my sufferings.
Madam, replied I, I beg you would not refuse me this favour. You cannot but know that the wretched feel a consolation in relating their greatest misfortunes; what I ask would alleviate yours, if you will have the goodness to gratify me.
Hear then, said she, the most afflicting adventure that could possibly have happened to one so deeply in love as myself, who considered myself as at the utmost point of my wishes. You must know, when I first saw the robbers enter, sword in hand, I considered it as the last moment of our lives; but death was not an object of regret, since I thought I was to die with the prince of Persia. However, instead of murdering us, as I expected, two of the robbers were ordered to take care of us, whilst their companions were busied in packing up the goods they found in the house. When they had done, and got their bundles upon their backs, they went out, and carried us along with them.
As we went along, one of those that had charge of us demanded of me who I was. I answered, I was a dancer. He put the same question to the prince, who replied, he was a citizen.
When we were come to the place whither they were going, a new alarm seized us. They gathered about us, and after having considered my dress, and the rich jewels I was adorned with, they seemed to doubt that I disguised my quality. Dancers, said they, do not use to be dressed as you are. Tell us truly who you are.
When they saw I answered nothing, they asked the prince once more who he was, for they told him they plainly perceived he was not the person he pretended to be. He did not satisfy them much more than I had done: he only told them he came to see the jeweller, naming him who was the owner of that house where they found them. I know this jeweller, replied one of the rogues, who seemed to have some authority over the rest: I have some obligations to him, which he knows nothing of, and I take upon me to bring him hither to-morrow morning, from another house he has: but you must not expect, continued he, to be released till he comes and tells us who you are: in the mean time, I promise you there shall be no injury offered to you.
The jeweller was brought next morning, who thinking to oblige us, as he really did, declared to the robbers the whole truth. They immediately came and asked my pardon, and I believe did the like to the prince, who was shut up in another room. They protested to me they would not have broken open the house where we were, had they known it was the jeweller’s. They soon after took us, (the prince, the jeweller, and myself,) carried us to the river side, put us aboard the boat, and rowed us across the water: but we were no sooner landed, than a party of horse patrol came up to us.
The robbers fled: I took the commander aside, and told him my name, and that the night before I had been seized by robbers, who forced me along with them; but having been told who I was, released me, and the two persons he saw with me, on my account. He alighted out of respect to me, and, expressing great joy for being able to oblige me, he caused two boats to be brought, putting me and two of his soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, escorted me hither, and the prince and jeweller, with two others, in another, to conduct them home in safety. My guides have conducted me hither; but what is become of the prince and his friend I cannot tell.
I trust, added she, melting into tears, no harm has happened to them since our separation; and I do not doubt, but the prince’s concern for me is equal to mine for him. The jeweller, to whom we have been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss he has sustained on our account. Fail not, therefore, to take two purses of a thousand pieces of gold in each, and carry them to him to-morrow morning in my name, and be sure to inquire after the prince’s welfare.
When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to the last article of inquiring into the prince’s welfare, to persuade her to endeavour to triumph over her passion, after the danger she had so lately escaped almost by miracle. —Make no answer to me, said she, but do what I command you.
I was obliged to be silent, and am come hither to obey her commands. I have been at your house, and not finding you at home, and uncertain as I was of finding where you were said to be, was about going to the prince of Persia; but not daring to attempt the journey, I have left the two purses with a particular friend of mine, and if you will wait here, I will go and fetch them immediately.
The confidant returned quickly to the jeweller in the mosque, where she had left him, and giving him the two purses, bid him out of them satisfy his friends. They are much more than is necessary, said the jeweller, but I dare not refuse the present from so good and generous a lady to her very humble servant; but I beseech you to assure her from me, that I shall preserve an eternal remembrance of her goodness. He then agreed with the confidant, that she should find him at the house where she had first seen him, whenever she had occasion to impart any thing from Schemselnihar, or to hear any tidings of the prince of Persia: and so they parted.
The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only that he had got wherewithal so fully to satisfy his friends, but also to think that no person in Bagdad could possibly know that the prince and Schemselnihar had been in his house when it was robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but their secresy he thought he might very well depend on: they, he imagined, had not sufficient communication with the world to fear any danger from their divulging it. Next morning he visited the friends who had obliged him, and found no difficulty in satisfying them. He had money in hand to furnish his other house, in which he placed servants. Thus he forgot all his past danger, and the next evening waited on the prince of Persia.
The prince’s domestics told the jeweller, that he came in very luckily, for that the prince ever since he saw him was reduced to such a state that his life was in danger, and they had not been able to get a word out of him. They introduced him softly into his chamber, and he found him in a condition that excited his pity. He was lying upon his bed, with his eyes shut; but when the jeweller saluted him, and exhorted him to take courage, he recollected him, and opened his eyes, and gave him a look that sufficiently declared the greatness of his affliction, infinitely beyond what he felt after he first saw Schemselnihar. He took and grasped him by the hand, to testify his friendship, and told him in a feeble voice, that he was extremely obliged to him, for coming so far to seek one so unhappy and wretched.
Prince, replied the jeweller, mention not, I beseech you, any obligations you have to me: I wish the good offices I have endeavoured to do you had had a better effect: but at present, let us talk only of your health; which, in the state I see you, I fear you greatly injure, by unreasonably abstaining from proper nourishment.
The prince’s servants took this opportunity to tell him, it was with the greatest difficulty they had prevailed on their master to take the smallest refreshment, and that for some time he had taken nothing at all. This obliged the jeweller to entreat the prince to let his servants bring him something to eat; which he obtained after much importunity.
After the prince had eaten more than he had hitherto done, through the persuasion of the jeweller, he commanded the servants to leave him alone with his friend. When the room was clear, he said, Besides my misfortune that distracts me, I have been exceedingly concerned to think what a loss you have suffered on my account; and it is but just I should make you some recompense; but before I do this, after begging your pardon a thousand times, I conjure you to tell me whether you have learnt any thing of Schemselnihar, since I had the misfortune to be parted from her.
Here the jeweller, instructed by the confidant, related to him all that he knew of Schemselnihar’s arrival at her palace, her state of health from that time till she recovered, and how she had sent her confidant to him to inquire after his welfare.
To all this the prince replied only by sighs and tears; he made an effort to get up, and calling his servants, went himself to his wardrobe, and having caused several bundles of rich furniture and plate to be packed up, he ordered them to be carried to the jeweller’s house.
The jeweller would fain have declined this kind offer: but although he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him more than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince would be obeyed. The jeweller was therefore obliged to make all possible acknowledgments, and protested how much he was confounded at his highness’s liberality. He would then have taken his leave, but the prince desired him to stay, and so they passed a good part of the night in talking together.
Next morning, the jeweller waited again on the prince, who made him sit down by him. You know, said he, there is an end proposed in all things: the end the lover proposes, is, to enjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If once he loses that hope, he must not think to live. Such is my hard case; for when I had been twice at the very point of fulfilling my desires, I was on a sudden torn from her I loved in the most cruel manner imaginable. It remains for me only to think of death, and I had sought it, but that our holy religion forbids suicide; but I need not anticipate it; I need not wait long. Here he stopped, and vented his passion in groans, signs, sobs, and tears, which flowed plentifully.
The jeweller, who knew no better way of diverting him from his despair than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving him some shadow of hope, told him, he feared the confidant might be come from her lady, and therefore it would not be proper to stay any longer from home. I will let you go, said the prince, but conjure you that if you see her, you recommend to her, to assure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do shortly, I shall love her to the last moment, even in the grave.
The jeweller returned home, and waited in expectation of seeing the confidant, who came some hours after, but all in tears, and in great affliction. The jeweller, alarmed, asked her what was the matter. She answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince, herself and he were all ruined. Hear the sad news, said she, as it was told me just upon my entering the palace after I had left you.
Schemselnihar had for some fault chastised one of the slaves you saw with her when we met in your other house; the slave enraged at the ill treatment, ran presently away, and finding the gate open, went forth; so that we have just reason to believe, she has discovered all to an eunuch of the guard who has given her protection.
But this is not all; the other slave, her companion, is fled too, and has taken refuge in the caliph’s palace; so that we may well fear she has borne her part in this discovery: for just as I came away, the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for Schemselnihar, and they carried her to the palace. I just found means to come and tell you this. I know not what has passed, yet I fear no good; but, above all, I recommend it to you as a secret.
The confidant added to what she had said before to the jeweller, that it was proper he should go immediately and acquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be prepared for every event, and keep faithful to the common cause. She went away in haste, without staying for any answer.
What answer could the jeweller have made in the condition he was in? He stood motionless as if thunderstruck. He found, however, that there was no time to be lost, and immediately went to give the prince an account. He addressed himself to him with an air that sufficiently showed the bad news he brought him. Prince, said he, arm yourself with courage and patience, and prepare to receive the most terrible shock that ever you had to encounter.
Tell me in a few words, said the prince, what is the matter, without keeping me in suspense: I am prepared to die if necessary. Then the jeweller told him all that he had learnt from the confidant. You see, continued he, your destruction is inevitable. Up, rise, save yourself by flight, for the time is precious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to the anger of the caliph, and should much less confess any thing in the midst of torments.
At these words, the prince was almost ready to expire through grief, affliction, and fear; however, he recovered himself, and asked the jeweller, what resolution he would advise him to take in this conjuncture, every moment of which was to be made use of. The jeweller told him, he thought nothing remained but that he should immediately take horse, and haste away towards Anbar,[82]that he might get thither before day. Take what servants and swift horses you think necessary, continued he, and suffer me to escape with you.
The prince, seeing nothing more to be done, immediately gave orders to prepare such an equipage as would be least troublesome, took money and jewels, and having taken leave of his mother, he departed with the jeweller, and such servants as he had chosen.
They travelled all that day and the night following without stopping; till at length, about two or three hours before daybreak, both their horses and themselves being spent with so long a journey, they stopt to rest themselves.
They had hardly sat down before they found themselves surrounded and assaulted by a great band of robbers. They defended their lives for some time courageously; but, at length, the prince’s servants being all killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield at discretion. The robbers, however, spared their lives; but after they had seized on the horses and baggage, they took away their clothes, and left them naked on the spot.
When the thieves were gone from them, the prince said to the jeweller, What think you of our adventure and condition? Had I not better have tarried in Bagdad, and awaited my death? Prince, replied the jeweller, it is the decree of heaven that we should thus suffer. It has pleased God to add affliction to affliction, and we must not murmur at it, but receive his chastisements with submission. Let us stay no longer here, but seek for some retreat where we may perhaps be relieved.
Let me die, said the prince; for what signifies it whether I die here or elsewhere? perhaps, while we are talking, Schemselnihar is no more; and why should I endeavour to live after she is dead? The jeweller by his entreaty at length prevailed on him, and they had not gone far before they came to a mosque, which was open; they entered it, and passed there the remainder of the night.
At daybreak a man came into the mosque. When he had ended his prayer, as he turned about to go away, he perceived the prince and jeweller, who were sitting in a corner. He came up to them, and after having saluted them with a great deal of civility, said, I perceive you are strangers.
The jeweller answered, You are not deceived; we have been robbed to-night in coming from Bagdad, as you may see, and are retired hither for shelter, but we know not whom to apply to. If you think fit to come along with me to my house, answered the man, I will give you all the assistance in my power.
Upon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and whispered him, This man, as you perceive, sir, does not know us; and we have reason to fear, that somebody else may come who may know us. We cannot, I think, refuse his offer. Do as you please, said the prince; I am willing to be guided by your discretion.
The man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together, and thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked them if they were resolved what to do. The jeweller answered, We are ready to follow you; all that we make a difficulty about is, that we are ashamed to appear thus naked.
Fortunately the man had it in his power to cover them sufficiently till they could get to his house; and they were no sooner got to the house, but he brought forth a very handsome suit for each of them. As he thought they must be hungry, and wish to be alone, he had several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate little, especially the prince, who was so dejected and dispirited, that he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host visited them several times in the day, and in the evening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early; but he was no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him again to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found him breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him just reason to fear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince said, It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last words. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not tell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is, that I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always loved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. She will undoubtedly not be a little grieved that she could not close my eyes, and bury me with her own hands. Let her know how much I was concerned at this, and pray her in my name to have my body transported to Bagdad, that she may have an opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my departed soul with her prayers. He then took notice of the master of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking him in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till it should be conveyed to Bagdad, he expired.
The day after the prince’s death, the jeweller took the opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and arrived there soon after in safety. He first went home to change his clothes, and then hastened to the prince’s palace, where every body was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired them to acquaint the prince’s mother, that he wished to speak with her, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a hall, with several of her women about her. Madam, said he to her, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he brought, God preserve you, and shower down the choicest of his blessings upon you. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes of us at his pleasure.
The princess would not give him leave to go on, but cried out, Alas! you bring me the news of my son’s death. She and her women, at the same time, set up such a hideous cry as brought fresh tears into the jeweller’s eyes. She tormented and grieved herself a long while, before she would suffer him to resume his story. At length, she checked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue, without concealing from her the least circumstance of such a melancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done, she farther demanded of him, if her son, the prince, had not given him in charge something more particular in his last moments. He assured her his last words were, that it was the greatest concern to him, that he must die so far distant from his dear mother; and that the only thing he wished was, that she would be pleased to have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly, early next morning the princess set out with her women, and great part of her slaves, to bring her son’s body to her own palace.
When the jeweller, whom she kept with her, saw she was gone, he returned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so accomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower of his age.
As he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a woman in mourning, drowned in tears, standing before him: on lifting up his eyes, he presently knew her to be Schemselnihar’s confidant. At the sight of her his tears began to flow afresh, but he said nothing to her; and going into his own house, she followed him.
They sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation, asked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the death of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that she grieved. Alas! answered she, what, is that charming prince then dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar. Beauteous souls! continued she, in whatsoever place ye now are, ye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted. Your bodies were an obstacle to your wishes, but heaven has delivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union.
The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar’s death, and had not observed the confidant was in mourning, suffered fresh grief at hearing this news. Is Schemselnihar then dead? cried he. She is dead, replied the confidant, weeping afresh; and it is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death were extraordinary, continued she, and deserve to be known to you; but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to let me know those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.
The jeweller then gave the confidant that satisfaction she desired; and after he had told her all, even to the departure of the prince’s mother, to bring her son’s body to Bagdad, she began and said, You have not forgot that I told you the caliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace; and it is true, as we had all the reason in the world to believe, he had been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince, by the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You will imagine, he would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar, and express great tokens of jealousy and revenge against the prince: but this was by no means the case. He pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for what had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about the city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only conclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behaviour towards her, as you will hear.
He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed that the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty, (for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear,) with a goodness worthy himself, he said, Schemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing before me thus, with an air which gives me infinite pain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved you, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the continued demonstrations I have given you of it. I can never change my mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies, Schemselnihar, proceeded he, and those enemies have insinuated things against your conduct; but all they have said against you has not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this melancholy, and prepare to entertain me with some diverting and amusing conversation this night, after your accustomed manner. He said many other obliging things to hen and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.
The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the kindness the caliph had for her; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the more she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for ever, from her prince, without whom she could not live.
This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar, continued the confidant, was whilst I was come to speak with you, and I learned the particulars of it from my companions who were present. But I had no sooner left you, proceeded she, than I went to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what happened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and as she thought I came from you, she came up to me, and, whispering me in the ear, said, I am much obliged to you for the service you have done me, but feel it will be the last. She said no more; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to comfort her.
The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments, which her women played upon, and the collation was immediately served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit down with him on the sofa. She put such a force upon herself to please him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she was hardly set down, but she fell backwards: the caliph believed she had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never recovered, and in this manner we lost her.
The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to refrain from tears; and before he left the room, ordered all the musical instruments to be broken, which was immediately executed. I stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and dressed her for her funeral, bathing her with my tears. The caliph had her interred next morning in a magnificent tomb he had erected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in. Now, since you tell me, said she, the prince of Persia’s body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb.
The jeweller was much surprised at this resolution of the confidant, and said, Certainly you do not consider that the caliph will never suffer this. You think the thing impossible, replied she; it is not: you will alter your opinion when I tell you that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves, with a pension to each for their maintenance, and has committed to me the care and keeping of my mistress’s tomb, and allotted me an annual income for that purpose, and for my maintenance. Besides, the caliph, who was not ignorant of the amour between Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have already told you, without being offended at it, will not be sorry if after her death he be buried with her. To all this the jeweller had not a word to say, yet earnestly entreated the confidant to conduct him to her mistress’s tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast concourse of people of both sexes, that were come thither from all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confidant, who was waiting hard by, he said to her, Now I am so far from thinking that what you properly proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need only publish abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his mistress. Before his corpse arrives, all Bagdad will concur to desire that two such faithful lovers should not be separated when dead, whom nothing could divide in affection whilst they lived. As he said, so it came to pass; for as soon as it came to be known that the corpse was within a day’s journey of the city, an infinite number of people went out to meet it above twenty miles off, and afterwards walked before it till it came to the city gate; where the confidant, waiting for that purpose, presented herself before the prince’s mother, and begged of her, in the name of the whole city, who earnestly desired it, that she would be pleased to consent that the bodies of the two lovers, who had but one heart whilst they lived, from the time their mutual passion commenced, might be buried in the same tomb now they were dead. The princess immediately consented; and the corpse of the prince, instead of being deposited in his own burying-place, was laid by Schemselnihar’s side, after it had been carried along in procession at the head of an infinite number of people of all ranks. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world where the Mahometan religion prevails, cease not to hold in the highest veneration that tomb, and pay their devotion at it.
The Story of the Amours of Carmaralzaman, Prince of the Isles of the Children of Khaledan, and of Badoura, Princess of China.
About twenty days’ sail on the coast of Persia, there are islands in the main ocean called the Islands of the Children of Khaledan. These islands are divided into four great provinces, which have all of them very flourishing and populous cities, forming together a powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by a king named Schahzaman,[83]who had four lawful wives, all daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.
Schahzaman thought himself the most happy monarch of the world, on account of his peaceful and prosperous reign. One thing only disturbed his happiness; which was, that he was advanced in years, and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew not to what to attribute this barrenness; and what increased his affliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a successor. He dissembled his discontent a long while; and this dissimulation only heightened his uneasiness. At length he broke silence; and one day, after he had complained bitterly of his misfortunes to his grand vizier, he asked him if he knew any remedy for it.
That wise minister replied, If what your majesty requires of me had depended on the ordinary rules of human wisdom, you had soon had an answer to your satisfaction; but my experience and knowledge fall far short of your question. The Divine Power alone, who, in the midst of our prosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, is pleased to mortify us in some instance, that we may address our thoughts to him, acknowledge his omnipotence, and ask of him what we can expect from him alone. Your majesty has subjects, proceeded he, who make a profession of honouring and serving God, and suffering great hardships for his sake; to them I would advise you to have recourse, and engage them, by alms, to join their prayers with yours: it may be, some one among them may be so pure and pleasing to God as to obtain a hearing from your prayers.
King Schahzaman approved this advice, and thanked his vizier for it. He immediately caused rich alms to be given to every community of these holy men in his dominions; and having sent for the superiors, and treated them with a frugal feast, declared to them his intention, and desired them to acquaint their devout men with it.
The king obtained of heaven what he requested; for in nine months’ time he had a son by one of his wives. To express his gratitude to heaven, he sent new alms to the communities of devout Mussulmen, and the prince’s birth-day was celebrated not only in his capital, but throughout his dominions for a whole week. The prince was brought to him as soon as born, and he found him so beautiful, that he gave him the name of Camaralzaman, or Moon of the Age.
He was brought up with all imaginable care; and when he came to a proper age, his father appointed him an experienced governor, and able preceptors. These persons, distinguished by their capacity, found in him a ready wit, capable of receiving all the instructions that were proper to be given him, as well in relation to morals as other knowledge which a prince ought to possess. As he grew up, he learned all his exercises, and acquitted himself with such grace and wonderful address, as charmed all that saw him, and particularly the sultan his father.
Having attained the age of fifteen years, the sultan, who loved him so tenderly, and gave him every day new marks of his affection, had thoughts of giving him a still greater, by resigning his throne to him, and acquainted his grand vizier with his intentions. I fear, said he, lest my son should lose in the inactivity of youth those advantages which nature and my education have given him: therefore, since I am advanced in age, and ought to think of retirement, I have thoughts of resigning the government to him, and passing the remainder of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I have undergone the fatigue of a crown a long while, and think it now proper for me to retire.
The grand vizier declined offering all the reasons he could have alleged to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the contrary, he agreed with him in opinion. Sir, replied he, the prince is yet but young, and it would not be, in my humble opinion, advisable to burthen him with the weight of a crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with great reason, his youth may be corrupted in indolence; but to remedy that, do not you think it would be proper to marry him? Marriage forms attachment, and prevents dissipation. Your majesty might then admit him of your council, where he would learn by degrees the art of reigning, and so be qualified to receive your authority, whenever, by your own experience, you shall think him qualified.
Schahzaman found this advice of his prime minister’s highly reasonable, therefore summoned the prince to appear before him at the same time that he dismissed the grand vizier.
The prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at certain times, without being sent for, was a little startled at this summons; when, therefore, he came before him, he saluted him with great respect, and stood with his eyes fixed on the ground.
The sultan perceiving his constraint, said to him in a mild way, Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for you? The prince modestly replied, God alone knows the heart; I shall hear it from your majesty with pleasure. I sent for you, said the sultan, to inform you I have an intention of providing a proper marriage for you; what do you think of it?
Prince Camaralzaman heard this with great uneasiness; it so surprised him, that he paused and knew not what answer to make. After a few moments’ silence, he replied, Sir, I beseech you to pardon me, if I seem surprised at the declaration you have made to me. I did not expect such proposals to one so young as I am; and I know not whether I could ever prevail on myself to marry, on account of the trouble incident to a married life, and the many treacheries of women, which I have read of. I may not be always of the same mind; yet I perceive it requires time to determine on what your majesty requires of me.
Prince Camaralzaman’s answer extremely afflicted his father. He was not a little grieved to see what an aversion he had to marriage; yet would not charge him with disobedience, nor exert his paternal authority. He contented himself with telling him he would not force his inclinations, but give him time to consider of the proposal, and reflect, that a prince like him, destined to govern a great kingdom, ought to take some care to leave a successor; and that, in giving himself that satisfaction, he communicated it to his father, who would be glad to see himself revive in his son and his issue.
Schahzaman said no more to the prince: he admitted him into his council, and gave him every reason to be satisfied. At the end of the year, he took him aside, and said to him, My son, have you thoroughly considered of what I proposed to you about marrying last year? Will you still refuse me that pleasure I expect from your obedience, and suffer me to die without giving me that satisfaction?
The prince seemed less disconcerted than before, and was not long answering his father to this effect: Sir, I have not neglected to consider of your proposal; but after the maturest reflection, find myself more confirmed in my resolution to continue as I am without engaging in marriage. In short, the infinite mischief I have read in histories caused in the world by women, and the continual mischiefs I still hear done by them, are powerful motives for me to have nothing to do with them: so that I hope your majesty will pardon me if I presume to tell you it will be in vain to solicit me any farther about marriage. He stopt here, and went out, without staying to hear what the sultan would answer.
Any monarch but Schahzaman would have been very angry at such freedom in a son, and would have made him repent it; but he loved him, and preferred gentle methods before he proceeded to compulsion. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his prime minister. I have followed your advice, said he, but Camaralzaman is farther than ever from complying with my desires. He delivered his resolution in such free terms, that it required all my reason and moderation to keep my temper. Fathers, who so earnestly desire children as I did this son, are fools who seek to deprive themselves of that rest which it is in their own power to enjoy without control. Tell me, I beseech you, how I shall reclaim a disposition so rebellious to my will.
Sir, answered the grand vizier, patience brings many things about that before seemed impracticable; but it may be this affair is of a nature not likely to succeed that way. Your majesty will have no cause to reproach yourself for precipitation, if you would give the prince another year to consider of the matter. If in this interval, he return to his duty, you will have the greater satisfaction, as you will have employed only paternal love to induce him; and if he still continue averse to your proposal when this is expired, your majesty may propose it to him in full council, that it is highly necessary for the good of the state that he should marry; and it is not likely he will refuse to comply with you before so grave an assembly, which you honour with your presence.
The sultan, who so passionately desired to see his son married, thought this long delay an age; however, though with much difficulty, he yielded to his grand vizier’s reasons, which he could not disapprove.
After the grand vizier was gone, sultan Schahzaman went to the apartment of the mother of prince Camaralzaman, to whom he had often expressed his desire to see the prince married. When he had told her, with grief, how his son had refused to comply with his wishes a second time, and the indulgence, which by the advice of his grand vizier, he was inclined to show him, he said, Madam, I know he has more confidence in, and will hearken more to you than me; therefore, I desire you would take an opportunity to talk to him seriously about it, and convince him, that if he persists in his obstinacy, he will oblige me to have recourse to extremities, which I should be sorry for, and which may give him cause to repent having disobeyed me.
Fatima, for so was the lady called, acquainted the prince the first time she saw him, that she had been informed of his second refusal to marry, and how much chagrin he had occasioned his father on that account. Madam, said the prince, I beseech you not to renew my grief upon that head. I fear, in my present uneasiness, something may escape me, which may not altogether correspond with the respect I owe you. Fatima knew by this answer that this was not a proper time to speak to him, and therefore deferred what she had to say to another opportunity.
Some considerable time after, Fatima thought she had found a more favourable opportunity, which gave her hopes of being heard upon that subject. Son, said she, I beg of you, if it be not disagreeable, to tell me what reason you have for your so great aversion to marriage? If it be only the wickedness of some women, nothing can be more unreasonable and weak. I will not undertake the defence of those that are bad; there are a great number of them undoubtedly; but it would be the height of injustice to condemn all the sex for their sakes. —Alas! my son, you have in your books met with many bad women, who have occasioned great mischief, and I will not excuse them; but you do not consider how many monarchs, sultans, and other princes, there have been in the world, whose tyrannies, barbarities, and cruelties astonished those that read of them, as well as myself. Now, for one wicked woman, you will meet with a thousand tyrants and barbarians; and what torment do you think a good woman must undergo, who is matched with any of these wretches?
Madam, replied Camaralzaman, I doubt not there are a great number of wise, virtuous, good, affable, and well-behaved women in the world: would to God they all resembled you! But what deters me is the doubtful choice a man is obliged to make; and oftentimes one has not the liberty of following his inclination.
Let us suppose then, madam, continued he, that I had a mind to marry, as the sultan my father so earnestly desires, what wife, think you, would he be likely to provide for me? Probably a princess whom he would demand of some neighbouring prince, and who would think it an honour done him to send him her. Handsome or ugly, she must be taken; nay, suppose no other princess excelled her in beauty, who can be certain that her temper would be good; that she would be affable, complaisant, easy, obliging, and the like? That her conversation would generally turn on solid subjects, and not on dress, fashions, ornaments, and a thousand such fooleries, which would disgust any man of sense? In a word, that she would not be haughty, proud, arrogant, impertinent, scornful, and waste an estate in frivolous expenses, such as gay clothes, jewels, toys, and foolish, mistaken magnificence?
You see, madam, continued he, by one single article, how many reasons a man may have to be disgusted at marriage. Let this princess be never so perfect, accomplished, and irreproachable in her conduct, I have yet a great many more reasons not to alter my opinion and resolution.
What, son, replied Fatima, have you then more reasons after those you have already alleged? I do not doubt of being able to answer them, and stop your mouth with a word. You may proceed, madam, replied the prince, and perhaps I may find a reply to your answer.
I mean, son, said Fatima, that it is easy for a prince who has had the misfortune to marry such a wife as you describe, to get rid of her, and take care that she may not ruin the state. Ah, madam, replied the prince, but you do not consider what a mortification it would be to a person of so great quality, to be obliged to come to such an extremity. Would it not have been more for his honour and quiet, that he had never run such a risk?
But, son, said Fatima once more, as you take the case, I apprehend you have a mind to be the last king of your race, who have reigned so long and gloriously over the isles of the children of Khaledan.
Madam, replied the prince, for myself I do not desire to survive the king, my father; and if I should die before him, it would be no great matter of wonder, since so many children have died before their parents. But it is always glorious to a race of kings, that it should end with a prince worthy to be so, as I should endeavour to make myself like my predecessors, and like the first of our race.
From that time Fatima had frequent conferences with her son the prince on the same subject; and she omitted no opportunity or argument to endeavour to root out his aversion to the fair sex; but he eluded all her reasonings by such arguments as she could not well answer, and continued in the same mind.
The year expired, and, to the great regret of the sultan, prince Camaralzaman gave not the least sign of having changed his sentiments. One day, therefore, when there was a great council held, the prime vizier, the other viziers, the principal officers of the crown, and the generals of the army being present, the sultan began to speak thus to the prince: My son, it is now a long while since I have expressed to you my earnest desire to see you married; and I imagined you would have had more complaisance for a father, who required nothing unreasonable of you, than to oppose him so long. But after so long resistance on your part, which has almost worn out my patience, I have thought fit to propose the same thing once more to you in the presence of my council. I would have you consider that you ought not to have refused this, if merely to oblige a parent; the well-being of my dominions requires it; and the assembly here present join with me to require it of you. Declare yourself, then; that according to your answer, I may take the proper measures.
The prince answered with so little reserve, or rather with so much warmth, that the sultan, enraged to see himself thwarted by him in full council, cried out, How, unnatural son! have you the insolence to talk thus to your father and sultan? He ordered the guards to take him away, and carry him to an old tower that had been unoccupied for a long while, where he was shut up, with only a bed, a little furniture, some books, and one slave to attend him.
Camaralzaman, thus deprived of liberty, was nevertheless pleased he had the freedom to converse with his books, and that made him look on his confinement with indifference. In the evening he bathed and said his prayers; and after having read some chapters in the Koran, with the same tranquillity of mind as if he had been in the sultan’s palace, he undressed himself and went to bed, leaving his lamp burning by him all the while he slept.