I am now going, said he, to begin my tale, and I request your attention. The hind, whom you see here, is my cousin; nay, more, she is my wife. When I married her, she was only twelve years old; and she ought therefore not only to look upon me as her relation and husband, but even as her father.
We lived together thirty years, without having any children; this, however, was no draw-back upon my kindness and regard. Still my desire of offspring was so great, that for this purpose, and for this only, I purchased a female slave, who bore me a son of great promise and expectation. Soon after, my wife became infected with jealousy, and consequently took a great aversion to both mother and child; yet she so well concealed her sentiments, that I became acquainted with them, alas, too late.
In the mean time my son grew up; and he was about ten years old, when I was obliged to make a journey. I recommended both the slave and the child to my wife, before my departure, as I had no distrust of her, and prayed her to take great care of them during my absence, which would not be less than a year. During this time she endeavoured to satiate her hatred. She applied herself to the study of magic; and when she was sufficiently skilled in that diabolical art to execute the horrible design she meditated, the wretch carried my son to a distant place. When there, by her enchantments, she changed him into a calf, gave him to my steward, and ordered him to bring him up as a calf, which she said she had bought. She was not, however, satisfied with this infamous action, but metamorphosed the slave into a cow, which she also sent to my steward.
Immediately on my return I inquired after my child and his mother. “Your slave is dead,” said she, “and it is now more than two months since I have beheld your son; nor do I know what is become of him.” I was sensibly affected at the death of the slave; but as my son only disappeared, I flattered myself that he would soon be found. Eight months however passed, and he did not return; nor could I learn any tidings of him. In order to celebrate the festival of the great Bairam, which was approaching, I ordered my steward to bring me the fattest cow I had for a sacrifice. He obeyed my commands; and the cow he brought me was my own slave, the unfortunate mother of my son. Having bound her, I was about to make the sacrifice, when at the very instant she lowed most sorrowfully, and the tears even fell from her eyes. This seemed to me so extraordinary, that I could not but feel compassion for her, and was unable to give the fatal blow. I therefore ordered her to be taken away, and another brought.
My wife, who was present, seemed angry at my compassion, and opposed an order which defeated her malice. “What are you about, my husband?” said she, “why not sacrifice this cow? Your steward has not a more beautiful one, nor one more proper for the purpose.” Wishing to oblige my wife, I again approached the cow; and struggling with my pity, which suspended the sacrifice, I was again going to give the mortal blow, when the victim a second time disarmed me by her redoubled tears and moanings. I then delivered the instruments into the hands of my steward. “Take them,” I cried, “and make the sacrifice yourself, the lamentations and tears of the animal have overcome me.”
The steward was less compassionate, and sacrificed her. On taking off the skin we found hardly any thing but bones, though she appeared very fat. “Take her away,” said I to the steward, truly chagrined, “I give her to you to do as you please with; regale both yourself and whomsoever you wish; and if you have a very fat calf, bring it in her place. I did not inquire what he did with the cow, but he had not been gone long, before I saw a remarkable fine calf brought. Although I was ignorant that this calf was my own son, yet I felt a sensation of pity arise in my breast at first sight. As soon also as he perceived me, he made so great an effort to come to me, that he broke his cord. He lay down at my feet, with his head on the ground, as if he endeavoured to excite my compassion, and not have the cruelty to take away his life: striving, in this manner, to make me comprehend that he was my son.
I was still more surprised and affected by this action, than I had been by the tears of the cow. I felt a kind of tender pity, which interested me much for him; or, to speak more correctly, my blood guided me to what was my duty. “Go back.” I cried, “and take all possible care of this calf, and, in its room, bring another directly.”
No sooner did my wife hear this than she exclaimed, “What are you about, my husband? do not, I pray, sacrifice any other than this.”—“Wife,” answered I, “I will not sacrifice him; I wish to favour him, do not you therefore oppose it.”—This wicked woman, however, did not agree to my proposal; she hated my son too much to suffer him to remain in safety; and she continued to demand his sacrifice so obstinately, that I was compelled to yield. I bound the calf, and, taking the fatal knife, was going to bury it in the throat of my son, when he turned his eyes, filled with tears, so persuasively upon me, that I had no power to execute my intention. The knife fell from my hand, and I told my wife I was determined to have another calf. She tried every means to induce me to alter my mind; I continued firm, however, in my resolution, in spite of all she could say; promising, for the sake of appeasing her, to sacrifice this calf at the feast of Bairam on the following year.
The next morning my steward desired to speak with me in private. “I am come,” said he, “to give you some information, which, I trust, will afford you pleasure. I have a daughter, who has some little knowledge of magic; and as I was bringing the calf back yesterday which you were unwilling to sacrifice, I observed, that she smiled at seeing it, and the next moment began to weep. I enquired of her the cause of these two contrary emotions. ‘My dear father,’ she answered, ‘that calf, which you bring back, is the son of our master; I smiled with joy at seeing him still alive, and wept at the recollection of his mother, who was yesterday sacrificed in the shape of a cow. These two metamorphoses have been contrived by the enchantments of our master’s wife, who hated both the mother and the child.’—This,” continued the steward, “is what my daughter said, and I come to report it to you.” Imagine, O Genius, my surprise at hearing these words: I immediately set out with my steward, to speak to his daughter myself. On my arrival I went first to the stable, where my son had been placed; he could not return my caresses; but he received them in a way, which convinced me that he was really my son.
When the daughter of the steward made her appearance, I asked her if she could restore him to his former shape. “Yes,” replied she, “I can.”—“Ah,” exclaimed I, “if you can perform such a miracle, I will make you the mistress of all I possess.”—She then answered with a smile, “You are our master, and I know how much we are bound to you; but I must mention, that I can restore your son to his own form, only on two conditions; first, that you bestow him upon me for my husband; and secondly, that I may be permitted to punish her who changed him into a calf.”—“To the first,” I replied, “I agree with all my heart; I will do still more, I will give you, for your own separate use, a considerable sum of money, independant of what I destine for my son. In short, you shall perceive how I can acknowledge the important service you do me. I agree also to that which regards my wife; a person, who has been capable of so criminal an action, is worthy of punishment. I abandon her to you, do what you please with her; I only entreat you to spare her life.”—“I will treat her then,” she said, “in the same manner as she has treated your son.”—To this I gave my consent, provided she first restored my son to me.
The damsel then took a vessel full of water, and pronouncing over it some words I did not understand, she thus addressed herself to the calf: “O calf, if thou hast been created by the all-powerful Sovereign of the world, as thou now appearest, retain that form; but if thou art a man, and hast been changed by enchantment into a calf, reassume, by permission of thy divine Creator, thy natural figure!”—In saying this she threw the water over him, and he instantly regained his own form.
“My child! my dear child,” I immediately exclaimed, and embraced him with a transport I could not restrain; “it is the Almighty, who hath sent this damsel to us, to destroy the horrible charm with which you were surrounded, and to avenge the evil that has been done to you and your mother. I am sure gratitude will induce you to accept her for a wife, as I have already promised for you.”—He joyfully consented; but before they were united the damsel changed my wife into this hind, which you see here. I wished her to have this form in preference to any other more unpleasant, that we might see her, without repugnance, in our family.
Since this, my son is become a widower, and is now travelling. Many years have passed since I have heard any thing of him; I have therefore now set out with a view to gain some information; and as I did not like to trust my wife to the care of any one during my search, I thought proper to carry her along with me. This is the history of myself and this hind; can any thing be more wonderful?”—“I agree with you,” said the Genius, “and in consequence I grant a third of my pardon to this merchant.”
“As soon as the first old man, Sire, had finished his history,” continued the sultana, “the second, who led the two black dogs, said to the Genius, “I will relate to you what has happened to me and these two dogs which you see, and I am sure you will find my history still more astonishing than that which you have heard. But when I have told it, will you grant to this merchant another third of his pardon?—“Yes,” answered the Genius, “provided your history surpasses that of the hind.” This being settled, the second old man began.”
Great Prince of the Genii, you must know, that these two black dogs, which you see here, and myself, are three brothers. Our father left us, when he died, one thousand sequins each. With this sum we all embarked in the same profession; namely, as merchants. Soon after we had opened our warehouse, my eldest brother, who is now one of these dogs, resolved to travel, and carry on his business in foreign countries. With this view he sold all his goods, and bought such other sorts of merchandize as were adapted to the different countries he proposed visiting.
He set out, and was absent a whole year. At the end of this time, a poor man who seemed to me to be asking charity, presented himself at my warehouse, “God help you,” said I.—“And you also,” answered he: “is it possible you do not know me?”—On looking attentively at him, I recognized his person, “Ah, my brother,” I cried, embracing him, “how should I possibly know you in this state?” I made him come in directly, and enquired both after his health and the success of his voyage.—“Do not ask me,” he replied; “in beholding me you see the whole. To enter into a detail of all the misfortunes that I have suffered in the last year, and which have reduced me to the state you see, would only be to renew my affliction.”
I instantly shut up my shop, and neglecting everything else, I took him to the bath, and dressed him in the best apparel my wardrobe afforded. I examined the state of my business, and finding, by my accounts, that I had just doubled my capital, that is, that I was now worth two thousand sequins, I presented him with the half. “Let this, my brother,” I said, “make you forget your losses.” He joyfully accepted the thousand sequins; again settled his affairs; and we lived together as before.
Some time after this, my second brother, which is the other of these black dogs, wished also to dispose of his property. Both his elder brother and myself tried every thing in our power to dissuade him from it, but in vain. He sold all, and with the money he bought such merchandize as he wished for his journey. He took his departure, and joined a caravan. At the end of a year he also returned in the same condition as his brother did. I furnished him with clothes; and as I had gained another thousand sequins, I gave them to him. He directly bought a shop, and continued to exercise his business.
One day both my brothers came to me, and proposed that I should make a voyage with them, for the purpose of traffic. “You have travelled,” said I, rejecting at first their scheme, “and what have you gained? Who will insure, that I shall be more fortunate than you?” In vain did they use every argument they thought could induce me to try my fortune. I still refused to consent to their design. They returned, however, so often to the subject, that, after having withstood their solicitations for five years, I at length yielded.
When it became necessary to prepare for the voyage, and we were consulting on the sort of merchandize to be bought, I discovered that they had consumed their capital and that nothing remained of the thousand sequins I had given to each. I did not, however, reproach them: on the contrary, as my capital was increased to six thousand sequins, I divided the half with them, and said, “We must, my brothers, risk only three thousand sequins, and endeavour to conceal the other in some secure place; that if our voyage be not more successful than those you have already made, we shall, with this sum, be able to console ourselves and begin our former profession. I will give one thousand sequins to each, and keep one myself; and I will conceal the other three thousand in a corner of my house.” We purchased our goods; embarked in a vessel, which we ourselves freighted; and set sail with a favourable wind. After sailing about a month, we arrived, without any accident, at a port, where we landed, and had a most advantageous sale for our merchandize. I, in particular, sold mine so well, that I gained ten for one. We then purchased the produce of that country, in order to traffic with it in our own.
About the time that we were ready to embark on our return, I accidentally met on the sea-shore a female, of a very fine figure, but poorly dressed. She accosted me by kissing my hand, and entreated me most earnestly to permit her to go with me, and take her for my wife. I started many difficulties to such a plan; but at length she said so much to persuade me that I ought not to regard her poverty, and that I should be well satisfied with her conduct, I was quite overcome. I directly procured proper dresses for her, and after marrying her in due form, she embarked with me, and we set sail.
During our voyage, I found my wife possessed of so many good qualities, that I loved her every day more and more. In the meantime my two brothers, who had not traded so advantageously as myself, and who were jealous of my prosperity, began to feel exceedingly envious. They even went so far as to conspire against my life; for one night, while my wife and I were asleep, they threw us into the sea.
My wife proved to be a fairy, consequently possessed of supernatural power; you may therefore imagine she was not hurt. As for myself, I should certainly have perished without her aid. I had hardly, however, fallen into the water before she took me up, and transported me into an island. As soon as it was day the fairy thus addressed me: “You may observe, my husband, that in saving your life, I have not ill rewarded the good you have done me. You must know, that I am a fairy, and being upon the shore when you were about to sail, I felt a great inclination for you. I wished to try the goodness of your heart, and for this purpose I presented myself before you in the disguise you saw. You acted most generously; and I am therefore delighted in finding an occasion of shewing my gratitude: but I am enraged against your brothers, nor shall I be satisfied till I have taken their lives.”
I listened with astonishment to the discourse of the fairy, and thanked her, as well as I was able, for the great obligation she had conferred on me: “But madam,” said I to her, “I must entreat you to pardon my brothers; for although I have the greatest reason to complain of their conduct, yet I am not so cruel as to wish their ruin.” I related to her what I had done for each of them, and my account only increased her anger. “I must instantly fly after these ungrateful wretches,” cried she, “and bring them to a just punishment; I will sink their vessel, and precipitate them to the bottom of the sea.”—“No, beautiful lady,” replied I, “for Heaven’s sake moderate your indignation, and do not execute so dreadful an intention; remember they are still my brothers, and that we are bound to return good for evil.”
I appeased the fairy by these words; and no sooner had I pronounced them, than she transported me in an instant from the island where we were, to the top of my own house, which was terraced, and then disappeared. I descended, opened the doors, and dug up the three thousand sequins which I had hidden. I afterwards repaired to my shop, opened it, and received the congratulations of the merchants in the neighbourhood on my arrival. When I returned home I perceived these two black dogs, which came towards me with a submissive air. I could not imagine what this meant, but the fairy, who soon appeared, satisfied my curiosity. “My dear husband,” said she, “be not surprised at seeing these two dogs in your house; they are your brothers.” My blood ran cold on hearing this, and I enquired by what power they had been transformed into that state. “It is I,” replied the fairy, “who have done it; at least it is one of my sisters, to whom I gave the commission, and she has also sunk their ship; you will lose the merchandize it contained, but I shall recompense you in some other way; as to your brothers, I have condemned them to remain under this form for ten years, as a punishment for their perfidy.” Then informing me where I might hear of her, she disappeared.
The ten years are now completed, and I am travelling in search of her. As I was passing this way I met this merchant, and the good old man, who is leading his hind, and here I staid. This, O Prince of the Genii, is my history; does it not appear to you of a most extraordinary nature?”—“Yes,” replied the Genius. “I confess it is wonderful, and therefore I remit the second third of the merchant’s punishment.”
When the second old man had finished his story the third began, by asking the Genius, as the others had done, if he would forgive the other third of the merchant’s crime, provided his history surpassed the other two, in the singularity and uncommonness of its events: the Genius repeated his former promise.
The third old man, Sire, related his history to the Genius, but as it has not yet come to my knowledge, I cannot repeat it, but I know it was so much beyond the others, from the variety of wonderful adventures it contained, that the Genius was astonished. He had no sooner heard the conclusion than he said, “I grant you the remaining third part of the merchant’s pardon; and he ought to be infinitely obliged to you all for having freed him from his dangerous situation by the relation of your adventures; for without your aid he would not now have been in this world.” Having said this, he disappeared, to the great joy of the whole party.
The merchant did not omit to bestow many thanks upon his liberators. They rejoiced with him at being out of danger, and then bidding him adieu, each went his several way. The merchant returned home to his wife and children, and spent the remainder of his days with them in tranquillity. But, Sire,” added Scheherazadè, “however beautiful those tales, which I have related to your majesty, may be, they are not equal to that of the fisherman.” Dinarzadè, observing that the sultan made no answer, said, “Since there is still some time, my sister, pray recount his history; the sultan, I hope, will not object to it.” Schahriar consented to it, and Scheherazadè went on as follows.
There was formerly, Sire, a very old fisherman, who was so poor, that he could barely obtain food for himself, his wife, and three children, of which his family consisted. He went out very early every morning to his employment; and he made it an absolute rule that he would throw his nets only four times a day.
One morning he set out before the moon had disappeared: when he had got to the sea-shore, he undressed himself, and threw his nets. In drawing them to land he perceived a considerable resistance; and began to imagine he should have an excellent haul; at which he was much pleased. But the moment after, finding that instead of fish he had got the body of an ass in his nets, he was much vexed and afflicted at having had so bad a draught. When he had mended his nets, which the weight of the ass had torn in many places, he threw them a second time. He again found considerable resistance in drawing them up, and again he thought they were filled with fish; how great was his disappointment, in discovering only a large pannier or basket, filled with sand and mud. “O fortune!” he exclaimed, in the greatest affliction, and with a melancholy voice, “cease to be enraged against me. Persecute not an unfortunate being, who thus supplicates thee to spare him. I came from home to seek after life, and you announce my death. I have no other trade, by which I can subsist, and even with all my care, I can hardly supply the most pressing wants of my family; but I am wrong to complain of thee, who takest a pleasure in abusing the virtuous, and leaving great men in obscurity, while thou favorest the wicked, and exaltest those who possess no virtue to recommend them.”
Having thus vented his complaints, he angrily threw aside the pannier, and washing his nets from the mud, he threw them a third time. He brought up only stones, shells, and filth. It is impossible to describe his despair, which almost deprived him of his senses. The day now began to break, and like a good mussulman, he did not neglect his prayers, to which he added the following: “Thou knowest, O Lord, that I throw my nets only four times a day; three times have I cast them into the sea, without any profit for my labour. Once more alone remains; and I entreat thee to render the sea favourable, as thou formerly didst to Moses.”
When the fisherman had finished this prayer, he threw his nets for the fourth time. Again he supposed he had caught a great quantity of fish, as he drew them with as much difficulty as before. He nevertheless found none; but discovered a vase of yellow copper, which seemed, from its weight, to be filled with something; and he observed that it was shut up and fastened with lead, on which there was the impression of a seal. “I will sell this to a founder,” said he with joy, “and with the money I shall get for it, I will purchase a measure of corn.”
He had examined the vase on all sides; he shook it, in order to discover whether its contents would rattle. He could hear nothing; and this, together with the impression of the seal on the lead, made him think it was filled with something valuable. In order to find this out, he took his knife, and got it open without much difficulty. He directly turned the top downwards, and was much surprised to find nothing come out: he set it down before him, and while he was attentively observing it, there issued from it so thick a smoke, that he was obliged to step back a few paces. This smoke, by degrees, rose almost to the clouds, and spread itself over both the water and the shore, appearing like a thick fog. The fisherman, as may easily be imagined, was a good deal surprised at this sight. When the smoke had all come out from the vase, it again collected itself, and became a solid body, and then took the shape of a Genius, twice as large as any of the giants. At the appearance of so enormous a monster, the fisherman wished to run away, but his fears were so great, he was unable to move.
“Solomon, Solomon,” cried the Genius, “great prophet of God, pardon, I pray. I will never more oppose your will; but will obey all your commands.”
The fisherman, Sire, had no sooner heard these words spoken by the Genius, than he regained his courage, and said, “Proud spirit, what is this you say? Solomon the prophet of the most High has been dead more than eighteen hundred years. Inform me, I pray, of your history, and on what account you were shut up in this vase?”
To this speech the Genius, looking disdainfully at the fisherman, answered, “Speak more civilly; thou art very bold to call me a proud spirit.”—“Perhaps then,” returned the fisherman, “it will be more civil to call you an owl of good luck.”—“I tell thee,” said the Genius, “speak to me more civilly, before I kill thee.”—“And for what reason, pray, will you kill me?” answered the fisherman, “Have you already forgotten, that I have set you at liberty?”—“I remember it very well,” returned he, “but that shall not prevent my destroying thee, and I will only grant thee one favour.”—“And pray what is that?” said the fisherman.—“It is,” replied the Genius, “to permit thee to choose the manner of thy death.”—“But in what” added the other, “have I offended you? Is it thus you wish to recompense me for the good I have done you?”—“I can treat thee no otherwise,” said the Genius, “and, to convince thee of it, attend to my history.
“I am one of those spirits who rebelled against the sovereignty of God. All the other Genii acknowledged the great Solomon, the prophet of God, and submitted to him. Sacar and myself were the only ones who were above humbling ourselves. In order to revenge himself, this powerful monarch charged Assaf, the son of Barakhia, his first minister, to come and seize me. This was done; and Assaf took and brought me, in spite of myself, before the throne of the king, his master.
“Solomon, the son of David, commanded me to quit my mode of life, acknowledge his authority, and submit to his laws. I haughtily refused to obey him; and rather exposed myself to his resentment, than take the oath of fidelity and submission, which he required of me. In order, therefore, to punish me, he enclosed me in this copper vase; and to prevent my forcing my way out, he put upon the leaden cover the impression of his seal, on which the great name of God is engraven. This done, he gave the vase to one of those Genii who obeyed him, and ordered him to throw me into the sea; which, to my great sorrow, was performed directly.
“During the first period of my captivity, I swore, that if any one delivered me before the first hundred years were passed, I would make him rich even after his death. The time elapsed, and no one assisted me: during the second century I swore, that if any released me, I would discover to him all the treasures of the earth; still I was not more fortunate. During the third, I promised to make my deliverer a most powerful monarch, to be always hovering near him, and to grant him every day any three requests he chose. This age too, like the former, passed away, and I remained in the same situation. Enraged, at last, to be so long a prisoner, I swore, that I would without mercy kill whoever should in future release me, and the only favour I would grant him, should be to choose what manner of death he pleased. Since, therefore, thou hast come here to-day, and hast delivered me, fix upon whatever kind of death thou wilt.”
The fisherman was much afflicted at this speech. “How unfortunate,” he exclaimed, “am I, to come here and render so great a service to such an ungrateful object! Consider, I entreat you, of your injustice; and revoke so unreasonable an oath. Pardon me, and God will in like manner pardon you. If you generously suffer me to live, he will defend you from all attempts that may be made against your life.”—“No,” answered the Genius, “thy death is sure; determine only how I shall kill thee.”—The fisherman was in great distress, and finding him thus resolved on his death, not so much on his own account as on that of his three children, whose wretched state they greatly deplored, when they would be reduced by his death. He still endeavoured to appease the Genius. “Alas!” he cried, “have pity on me, in consideration of what I have done for you.”—“I have already told thee,” replied the Genius, “that it is for that very reason that I am obliged to take thy life.”—“It is very strange,” added the fisherman, “that you are determined to return evil for good. The proverb says, that he who does good to him that does not deserve it, is always ill rewarded. I did think, I own, that it was false, because nothing is more contrary to reason, and the rights of society: yet I cruelly find it too true.”—“Let us lose no time,” cried the Genius, “your arguments will not alter my resolution. Make haste, and tell me how you wish to die.”
Necessity is the spur to invention; and the fisherman thought of a stratagem. “Since then,” said he, “I cannot escape death, I submit to the will of God; but before I choose the sort of death, I conjure you, by the great name of God, which is graven upon the seal of the prophet Solomon, the son of David, answer me truly to a question I am going to put to you.” When the Genius found that he should be compelled to answer positively, he trembled, and said to the fisherman, “Ask what thou wilt, and make haste.”
The Genius had no sooner promised to speak the truth, than the fisherman said to him, “I wish to know whether you really were in that vase; dare you swear it by the great name of God?”—“Yes,” answered the Genius, “I do swear by the great name of God, that I most certainly was.”—“In truth,” replied the fisherman, “I cannot believe you. This vase cannot contain one of your feet; how then can it hold your whole body?”—“I swear to thee, notwithstanding,” replied he, “that I was there just as thou seest me. Wilt thou not believe me after the solemn oath I have taken?”—“No truly,” added the fisherman, “I shall not believe you, unless I were to see it.”
Immediately the form of the Genius began to change into smoke, and extended itself as before over both the shore and the sea; and then, collecting itself, began to enter the vase, and continued to do so in a slow and equal manner, till nothing remained without. A voice immediately issued forth, saying, “Now then, thou credulous fisherman, dost thou believe me now I am in the vase?” But instead of answering the Genius, he immediately took the leaden cover, and put it on the vase. “Genius,” he cried, “it is now your turn to ask pardon, and choose what sort of death is most agreeable to you. But no, it is better that I should throw you again into the sea, and I will build on the very spot where you are cast, a house upon the shore, in which I will live, to warn all fishermen that shall come and throw their nets, not to fish up so wicked a Genius as you are, who make an oath to kill him who shall set you at liberty.”
At this offensive speech the enraged Genius tried every method to get out of the vase, but in vain; for the impression of the seal of Solomon, the prophet, the Son of David, prevented him. Knowing, then, that the fisherman had the advantage over him, he began to conceal his rage. “Take care,” said he, in a softened tone, “what you are about, fisherman. Whatever I did was merely in joke, and you ought not to take it seriously.”—“O Genius,” answered the fisherman, “you, who were a moment ago the greatest of all the Genii, are now the most insignificant; and do not suppose that your flattering speeches will be of any use to you. You shall assurely return to the sea: and if you passed all the time there you said, you may as well remain till the day of judgment. I entreated you in the name of God not to take my life, and you rejected my prayers; I ought to reject yours likewise.
The Genius tried every argument to move the fisherman’s pity, but in vain. “I conjure you to open the vase,” said be; “if you give me my liberty again, you shall have reason to be satisfied with my gratitude.”—“You are too treacherous for me to trust you,” returned the fisherman: “I should deserve to lose my life, if I had the imprudence to put it in your power a second time. You would most likely treat me as a Greek king treated Douban, the physician. Listen, and I will tell you the story.
In the country of Zouman, in Persia, there lived a king, whose subjects were originally Greeks. This king was sorely afflicted with a leprosy, and his physicians had unsuccessfully tried every remedy they were acquainted with, when a very ingenious physician, called Douban, arrived at the court.
He had acquired his profound learning by studying different authors in the Greek, Latin, Persian, Arabic, Turkish, Syriac, and Hebrew languages; and besides having a consummate knowledge of philosophy, he was also well acquainted with the good and bad properties of all kinds of plants and drugs.
As soon as he was informed of the king’s illness, and that the physicians had given him up, he dressed himself as neatly as possible, and obtained permission to be presented to the king. “Sire,” said he, “I know that all the physicians who have attended your majesty, have been unable to remove your leprosy; but, if you will do me the honour to accept of my services, I will engage to cure you without either internal or topical applications.” The king, pleased with this proposition, replied, “If you are really so skilful as you pretend, I promise to confer affluence on you and your posterity; and without reckoning the presents you will have, you shall be my first favourite; but do you assure me then, that you will remove my leprosy without making me swallow any potion or applying any remedy externally?”—“Yes, Sire,” replied the physician, “I flatter myself I shall succeed, with the help of God; and to-morrow I will begin my operations.”
Douban returned to his house, and made a sort of racket or bat, with a hollow in the handle to admit the drug he meant to use; that being done, he also prepared a sort of round ball, or bowl, in the manner he intended, and the following day he presented himself before the king, and prostrating himself at his feet, kissed the ground.
Douban then arose, and having made a profound reverence, told the king that he must ride on horseback to the place where he was accustomed to play at bowls. The king did as he was desired, and when he had reached the bowling-green, the physician approached him, and putting into his hand the bat which he had prepared, “Sire,” said he, “exercise yourself with striking that bowl about with this bat, till you find yourself in a profuse perspiration. When the remedy I have enclosed in its handle is warmed by your hand, it will penetrate through your whole body; you may then leave off, for the drug will have taken effect; and when you return to your palace get into a warm bath, and be well rubbed and washed, then go to bed, and to-morrow you will be quite cured.
The king took the bat, and spurred his horse after the bowl till he struck it; it was sent back again to him by the officers who were playing with him, and he struck it again; and thus the game continued for a considerable time, till he found his hand as well as his whole body in a perspiration, which made the remedy in the bat operate as the physician had said; the king then left the game, returned to the palace, bathed, and observed very punctually all the directions that had been given him.
He soon found the good effects of the prescription; for when he arose the next morning, he perceived, with equal surprise and joy, that his leprosy was entirely cured, and that his body was as clear as if he had never been attacked by that malady. As soon as he was dressed, he went into the audience-room, where he mounted his throne and received the congratulations of all his courtiers who had assembled on that day, partly to gratify their curiosity and partly to testify their joy.
Douban entered, and went to prostrate himself at the foot of the throne, with his face towards the ground. The king seeing him, called to him, and made him sit by his side; and shewing him to the assembly, gave him in that public way all the praise he so well deserved; nay, he did not stop here, for there being a grand entertainment at court on that day, he placed him at his own table to dine only with him.
The Greek king, (proceeded the fisherman,) was not satisfied with admitting the physician to his own table; towards evening, when the courtiers were about to depart, he put him on a long rich robe resembling that which the courtiers usually wore in his presence, and in addition, made him a present of two thousand sequins. The following days he did nothing but caress him; in short, this prince, thinking he could never repay the obligations he owed to so skilful a physician, was continually conferring on him some fresh proof of his gratitude.
The king had a grand vizier, who was avaricious, envious, and by nature capable of every species of crime. He observed, not without pain, the presents which had been bestowed upon the physician, whose great character and merit he was determined to lessen and destroy in the mind of the king. To accomplish this, he went to him, and said in private, that he had some intelligence of the greatest moment to communicate. The king asked him what it was. “Sire,” replied he, “it is very dangerous for a monarch to place any confidence in a man, of whose fidelity he is not assured. In overwhelming the physician Douban with your favors, and bestowing all this kindness and regard upon him, you are ignorant that he is a traitor, who has introduced himself to the court, in order to assassinate you.”—“What is this you dare tell me?” answered the king, “Recollect to whom you speak, and that you advance an assertion which I shall not easily give credit to.”—“Sire,” added the vizier, “I am accurately informed of what I have the honor to represent to you; do not, therefore, continue to repose such a dangerous confidence in him. If your majesty is, as it were, in a dream, it is time to awake; for I again repeat, that the physician Douban has not travelled from the farther part of Greece, his own country, but for the horrible design I have mentioned.”
“No, no, vizier,” interrupted the king, “I am sure this man, whom you consider as an hypocrite and traitor, is one of the most virtuous and best of men; there is no one in the world whom I regard so much. You know by what remedy, or rather by what miracle, he cured me of my leprosy; and if he had sought my life, why did he thus save it. Cease then from endeavouring to instil unjust suspicions, for instead of listening to them, I now inform you, that from this very day I bestow upon him a pension of one thousand sequins a month, for the rest of his life. And were I to share all my riches, and even my kingdoms with him, I could never sufficiently repay what he has done for me. I see what it is; his virtue excites your envy; but do not suppose that I shall suffer myself to be prejudiced against him unjustly. I well remember what a vizier said to king Sindbad, his master, to prevent his giving orders for the death of his son.”
This very much excited the curiosity of the vizier. “I beg your majesty will pardon me, if I have the boldness to ask you what it was that the vizier of king Sindbad said to his master, in order to avert the death of his son.” The Greek king had the complaisance to satisfy him. “This vizier,” added he, “after having represented to king Sindbad, that he ought to hesitate to do a thing which was founded on the suggestion of a mother-in-law, for fear she should repent, related the following story.”
There lived once a good man who had a beautiful wife, of whom he was so passionately fond, that he could scarcely bear to have her out of his sight. One day when some particular business obliged him to leave her, he went to a place where they sold all sorts of birds; he purchased a parrot, which was not only highly accomplished in the art of talking, but also possessed the rare gift of telling every thing that was done in its presence. The husband took it home in a cage to his wife, and begged of her to keep it in her chamber, and take great care of it during his absence; after this he set out on his journey.
On his return he did not fail to interrogate the parrot on what had passed while he was away; and the bird very expertly related a few circumstances, which occasioned the husband to reprimand his wife. She supposed that some of her slaves had exposed her, but they all assured her they were faithful, and agreed in charging the parrot with the crime. Desirous of being convinced of the truth of this matter, the wife devised a method of quieting the suspicions of her husband, and at the same time of revenging herself on the parrot, if he were the culprit. The next time the husband was absent, she ordered one of her slaves, during the night, to turn a handmill under the bird’s cage, and another to throw water over it like rain, and a third to wave a looking-glass before the parrot by the light of a candle. The slaves were employed the greatest part of the night in doing what their mistress had ordered them, and succeeded to her satisfaction.
The following day, when the husband returned, he again applied to the parrot to be informed of what had taken place. The bird replied, “My dear master, the lightning, the thunder, and the rain, have so disturbed me the whole night, that I cannot tell you how much I have suffered.” The husband, who knew there had been no storm that night, became convinced that the parrot did not always relate facts; and that having told an untruth in this particular, he had also deceived him with respect to his wife: being therefore extremely enraged with it, he took the bird out of the cage, and dashing it on the floor, killed it: he, however, afterwards learnt from his neighbours, that the poor parrot had told no story of the conduct of his wife, which made him repent of having destroyed it.
“When the Greek king,” said the fisherman to the Genius, “had finished the story of the parrot, he added, “You, vizier, through envy of Douban, who has done you no evil, wish me to order his death, but I will take good care, lest, like the husband who killed his parrot, I should afterwards repent.”
The vizier was too desirous of the death of Douban to let it rest here. “Sire,” replied he, “the loss of the parrot was of little importance, nor do I think his master could long have regretted it. But on what account should the dread of oppressing the innocent prevent you from destroying this physician. Is it not a sufficient reason that he is accused of attempting your life to authorise you to take away his? When the life of a king is in question, a bare suspicion ought to be equal to a certainty; and it is better to sacrifice the innocent than save the guilty. But this, Sire, by no means rests on an uncertainty. The physician Douban positively wishes to assassinate you. It is not envy that makes me hostile to him, it is the interest alone that I take in your majesty’s preservation; it is my zeal, which induces me to give my advice on so important an occasion. If my information is false, I deserve the same punishment that a certain vizier underwent formerly.”—“What had that vizier done, worthy of chastisement?” said the Greek king.—“I will tell your majesty,” answered the vizier, “if you will have the goodness to listen.”
There was formerly a king, whose son was passionately fond of hunting. His father, therefore, often indulged him in this diversion; but at the same time gave positive orders to his grand vizier always to accompany, and never lose sight of him.
One hunting morning, the prickers roused a stag, and the prince set off in pursuit, thinking the vizier followed him. He galloped so long, and his eagerness carried him so far, that he at last found himself quite alone. He immediately stopped, and observing that he had lost his way, he endeavoured to return back by the same, in order to join the vizier, who had not been sufficiently attentive in following him. He was, however, unable to find it; and riding about on all sides, without getting into the right track, he by chance met a lady, not ill made, who was weeping most bitterly. The prince immediately checked his horse, and inquired of her who she was, what she did alone in that place, and whether he could assist her. “I am,” she answered, “the daughter of an Indian king. In riding out into the country, I was overcome with sleep, and fell from my horse. He has run away, and I know not what has become of him.” The young prince was sorry for her misfortune, and proposed to take her up behind him, which she accepted.
As they passed by an old ruined building, the lady made some excuse to alight; the prince therefore stopped, and suffered her to get down. He also alighted, and walked towards the building, holding his horse by the bridle. Imagine then what was his astonishment, when he heard the female pronounce these words from within the walls, “Rejoice, my children, I have brought you a very nice fat youth.” And directly afterwards other voices answered, “Where is he mama? Let us eat him instantly, for we are very hungry.”
The prince had heard enough to convince him of the danger he was in: he plainly perceived, that she, who represented herself as the daughter of an Indian king, was no other than the wife of one of those savage demons, called Ogres, who live in desert places, and make use of a thousand wiles to surprise and devour the unfortunate passengers. He trembled with fear, and instantly mounted his horse.
The pretended princess at that moment made her appearance, and finding she had failed in her scheme, “Do not be afraid,” she cried, “but tell me who you are, and what you are looking for?”—“I have lost my way,” he replied, “and am endeavouring to find it.”—“If you are lost,” she said, “recommend yourself to God, and he will deliver you from your difficulty.”
The young prince could not believe that she spoke sincerely, but that she considered him as already within her power; he lifted up his hands therefore towards Heaven, and said, “Cast thine eyes upon me, O all powerful Lord, and deliver me from this mine enemy!” At this prayer, the Ogre went back to the ruin, and the prince rode off as fast as possible. He fortunately discovered the right road, and arrived safely at home, and related to his father, word for word, the great danger he had encountered, through the neglect of the grand vizier. The king was so enraged at him, that he ordered this minister to be instantly strangled.
“Sire,” continued the vizier of the Greek king, “to return to the physician Douban; if you do not take care, the confidence you place in him will turn out unfortunate. I well know, that he is a spy, sent by your enemies to attempt your majesty’s life. He has cured you, you say, but who can tell that? He has perhaps only cured you in appearance, and not radically; and who can tell, whether this remedy, in the end, will not produce the most pernicious effects?”
The Greek king was naturally rather weak, and had not penetration enough to discover the wicked intention of his vizier, nor sufficient firmness to persist in his first opinion. This conversation staggered him. “You are right, vizier,” said he, “he may be come for the express purpose of taking my life, which he can easily accomplish, even by the mere smell of some of his drugs. We must consider what is to be done in this conjuncture!”
When the vizier perceived the king in the disposition be wished, he said to him, “The best and most certain means, Sire, to ensure your repose, and put your person in safety, is instantly to send to Douban, and on his appearance, order him to be beheaded.”—“Indeed,” replied the king, “I think I ought to prevent his designs.”—Having said this, he called one of his officers, and ordered him to find the physician, who, without knowing what the king wished, hastened to the palace.
“Knowest thou,” said the king, as soon as he saw him, “why I sent for thee here?”—“No, Sire,” answered Douban, “and I wait till your majesty pleases to instruct me.”—“I have ordered thee to come,” replied the king, “to free myself from thy snares, by taking thy life.”
It is impossible to express the astonishment of Douban, at hearing the sentence of his death. “For what reason, Sire,” replied he, “does your majesty condemn me to death? What crime have I been guilty of?”—“I have been well informed,” added the king, “that you are a spy, and that you have come to my court in order to take away my life; but to prevent that, I will first deprive you of yours. Strike,” added he to an officer who was by, “and deliver me from a treacherous wretch who has introduced himself here only to assassinate me.”
At hearing this, the physician began to think, that the honours and riches which had been heaped upon him, had excited some enemies against him, and that the king, through weakness, had suffered himself to be guided by them, nor was he wrong. He began to repent having cured him; but that came too late. “Is it thus,” he cried, “that you recompense the good I have done you?”—The king, however, paid no attention, and desired the officer, a second time, to execute his orders. The physician had then recourse to prayers. “Ah, Sire,” he cried, “if you prolong my life, God will prolong yours; do not kill me, lest God should treat you in the same manner.”
“You see then,” said the fisherman, breaking off his story in this place, and addressing himself to the Genius, “that what has passed between the Greek king and the physician Douban is exactly the same as what has happened between us.
“The Greek king, however,” continued he, “instead of regarding the entreaties the physician urged in conjuring him, in the name of God, to relent, exclaimed, “No, no, you must die, or you will take away my life in a still more concealed manner than you have cured me.” Douban, in the mean time, bathed in tears, complained much at finding his important services so ill requited; and at last prepared for death. The officer then put a bandage over his eyes, tied his hands, and was going to draw his scimitar. The courtiers, however, who were present, felt so much for him, that they entreated the king to pardon him, assuring his majesty he was not guilty, and that they would answer for his innocence. But the king was inflexible, and spoke so peremptorily, they dared not reply.
The physician being on his knees, his eyes bandaged, and ready to receive the stroke that was to terminate his existence, once more addressed the king; “Since your majesty, Sire, wishes not to revoke the order for my death, I entreat you at least to give me leave to return home, to arrange my funeral, take a last farewell of my family, bestow some charity, and leave my books to those who will know how to make a good use of them. There is one among them which I wish to make a present to your majesty. It is a very rare and curious work, and worthy of being kept even in your treasury with the greatest care.”—“What book can there be,” replied the king, “so valuable as you mention?”—“Sire,” answered the physician, “it contains things of the most curious nature, and one of the principal is, that, when my head shall be cut off, if your majesty will take the trouble to open the book at the sixth leaf, and read the third line on the left-hand page, my head will answer every question you wish to ask.” The king was so desirous of seeing such a wonderful thing, that he put off his death till the next day, and sent him home under a strong guard.
The physician then arranged all his affairs, and as the news got abroad that an unheard-of prodigy was to happen after his execution, the viziers, emirs, officers of the guard, in short all the court, flocked the next day to the hall of audience, to witness such an extraordinary event.
Douban, the physician, appeared directly after, and advanced to the foot of the throne with a very large volume in his hand. He then placed it on a vase, and unfolded the cover in which the book was wrapt; and in presenting it, he thus addressed the king: “If it be your pleasure, Sire, receive this book; and as soon as my head shall be struck off, order one of your officers to place it on the vase upon the cover of the book; as soon as it is there the blood will cease to flow; then open the book, and my head shall answer all your questions. But, Sire,” added Douban, “permit me once more to implore your mercy. Consider, I beg of you, in the name of God, that I protest to you that I am innocent.”—“Thy prayers,” answered the king, “are useless, and were it only to hear your head speak after your death, I would wish for your execution.” In saying this; he took the book from the hands of the physician, and ordered the officer to do his duty.
The head was so adroitly cut off, that it fell into the vase, and it had hardly been on the cover an instant before the blood stopt. Then, to the astonishment of the king and all the spectators, it opened its eyes, and said, “Will your majesty now open the book?” The king did so, and finding that the leaf stuck to the second, he put his finger to his mouth, and moistened it, in order to turn it over more easily. He went on doing so till he came to the sixth leaf; and observing nothing written upon the appointed page, “Physician,” said he to the head, “there is no writing.”—“Turn over then a few more leaves,” replied the head. The king continued turning them over, still putting his finger frequently to his mouth, till the poison, in which each leaf had been dipped, began to produce its effect. The prince then felt himself suddenly agitated in a most extraordinary manner; his sight failed him, and he fell at the foot of the throne in the greatest convulsions.
When the physician Douban, or rather his head, saw that the poison had taken effect, and that the king had only a few moments to live, “Tyrant,” he exclaimed, “behold how those princes are treated, who abuse their power, and sacrifice the innocent. God, sooner or later, punishes their injustice and their cruelty.” The head had no sooner repeated those words, than the king expired; and at the same time the small portion of life that remained in the head itself, was wasted.
“Such, Sire,” continued Scheherazadè, “was the end of the Greek king and the physician Douban. I shall now return to the fisherman and the Genius.
As soon as the fisherman had finished the history of the Greek king and the physician Douban, he applied it to the Genius, whom he still kept confined in the vase. “If,” said he, “the Greek king had permitted Douban to live, God would also have bestowed the same benefit on him: but he rejected the humble prayers of the physician. God, therefore, punished him. This, O Genius, is the case with you. If I had been able to make you relent, and could have obtained the favor I asked of you, I should have pitied the state in which you now are: but since you persisted in your determination to kill me, in spite of the obligation you were under to me for setting you at liberty, I ought, in my turn, to shew no mercy. In leaving you within this vase, and casting you into the sea, I shall deprive you of the use of your existence till the end of time. This is the revenge I have been taught by you.”
“Once more, my good friend,” replied the Genius, “I entreat you not to be guilty of so cruel an act; remember that revenge is not a part of virtue; on the contrary, it is praise-worthy to return good for evil. Do not then serve me as Imma formerly treated Ateca.”—“And how was that?” asked the fisherman. “If you wish to be informed of it, open this vase,” answered the Genius, “do you think that I am in the humour, while confined in this narrow prison, to relate stories? I will tell you as many as you please when you shall have let me out.”—“No, no,” said the fisherman, “I will not release you; it is better for me to cast you to the bottom of the sea.”—“One word more, fisherman,” cried the Genius: “I will teach you how to become as rich as possible.”
The hope of being no longer in want at once disarmed the fisherman. “I would listen to you,” he cried, “if I had the least ground to believe you; swear to me, by the great name of God, that you will faithfully observe what you say, and I will open the vase. I do not believe that you will be sufficiently bold to violate such an oath.” The Genius did so; and the fisherman immediately took off the covering. The smoke instantly issued from it, and the first thing the Genius did, after he had reassumed his usual form, was to kick the vase into the sea: this action rather alarmed the fisherman. “What do you mean, O Genius, by this; do you not intend to keep the oath you have taken? Or must I address the same words to you which the physician Douban did to the Greek king?“Suffer me to live, and God will prolong your days.”
The fear expressed by him made the Genius laugh; “Be of good heart, fisherman,” answered he, “I have thrown the vase into the sea only for diversion, and to see whether you would be alarmed: but to shew you that I intend to keep my word, take your nets and follow me.” They passed by the city and went over the top of a mountain, from whence they descended into a vast plain, which led them to a pond situated between four small hills.
When they were arrived on the borders of the pond, the Genius said to the fisherman, “Throw your nets, and catch fish.” The fisherman did not doubt that he should take some, for he saw a great quantity in the pond; but how great was his surprise at finding them of four different colours; white, red, blue, and yellow. He threw his nets and caught four, one of each colour. As he had never seen any similar to them, he could hardly cease admiring them, and judging that he could dispose of them for a considerable sum, he expressed great joy. “Carry these fish to the palace,” said the Genius, “and present them to the sultan, and he will give you more money than you ever handled in all your life. You may come every day and fish in this pond, but observe and throw your nets only once each day; if you act otherwise, some evil will befal you, therefore take care. This is my advice, and if you follow it exactly you will do well.” Having said this, he struck his foot against the ground, which opened, and having sunk into it, the earth closed as before.
The fisherman resolved to observe the advice and instructions of the Genius in every point, and take care never to throw his nets a second time. He went back to the town very well satisfied with his success, and making a thousand reflections on his adventure. He went directly, and presented his fish at the sultan’s palace.
I leave it to your majesty to imagine how much the sultan was surprised, when he saw the four fish brought him by the fisherman. He took them one by one, and observed them most attentively; and after admiring them a long time, he said to his first vizier, “Take these fish, and carry them to that excellent cook, which the emperor of the Greeks sent me; I think they must be equally good as they are beautiful.”
The vizier took them, and delivered them himself into the hands of the cook. “Here are four fish,” said he, “which have been presented to the sultan; he commands you to dress them.” He then returned to the sultan, his master, who desired him to give the fisherman four hundred pieces of gold, which he faithfully executed. The fisherman, who was never before in possession of so large a sum of money at once, could not conceal his joy; and thought it all a dream. He soon, however, proved it to be a reality, by the good purpose to which he applied the gold, in relieving the wants of his family.
“We must now, Sire (continued Scheherazadè) give some account of what passed in the sultan’s kitchen, which we shall find in great confusion and difficulty. As soon as the cook had cleaned the fish which the vizier had brought, she put them in a vessel with some oil over the fire to fry. When she thought they were sufficiently done on one side, she turned them. She had hardly done so, when, wonderful to relate, the wall of the kitchen appeared to separate, and a beautiful and majestic young damsel came out of the opening. She was dressed in a satin robe, embroidered with flowers after the Egyptian manner, and adorned with ear-rings and a necklace of large pearls, and gold bracelets, set with rubies; she held a rod of myrtle in her hand. Approaching the vessel, to the great astonishment of the cook, who remained motionless at the sight, and striking one of the fish with her rod, she said, “Fish, fish, art thou doing thy duty?” The fish answering not a word; she again repeated it, when the four fish all raised themselves up, and said very distinctly, “Yes, yes, if you reckon, we reckon; if you pay your debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we conquer, and are content.” As soon as they had spoken these words, the damsel overturned the vessel, and went back through the wall, which immediately closed up, and was in the same state as before.
The cook, whom all these wonders alarmed, having in some measure recovered from her fright, went to take up the fish which had fallen upon the hot ashes; but she found them blacker and more burnt than the coals themselves, and not at all in a state to send to the sultan. At this she was greatly distressed, and began to cry with all her might. “Alas,” said she, “what will become of me? I am sure, when I relate to the sultan what I have seen, that he won’t believe me. How enraged also will he be with me!”
While she was in this distress, the grand vizier entered, and asked if the fish were ready. The cook then related all that had taken place, at which, as we may naturally suppose, he was much astonished: but without telling the sultan any thing about it, he invented some excuse, which satisfied him. He then sent directly for the fisherman; to whom, when he was come, he said, “Bring me four more fish, like those you brought before, for an accident has happened, which prevents their being served up to the sultan.” The fisherman did not tell him what the Genius had strictly advised him to do; but pleaded the length of the way as an excuse for not being able to procure any more that day; he promised, however, to bring them the next morning.
The fisherman, in order to be in time, set out before it was day, and went to the pond. He threw his nets, and drawing them out, found four more fish, like those he had taken the day before, each of a different colour. He returned directly, and brought them to the grand vizier by the time he had promised. The minister took them, and carried them into the kitchen, where he shut himself up with only the cook, who prepared to dress them before him. She put them on the fire as she had done the others on the preceding day. When they were dressed on one side, she turned them, and immediately the wall of the kitchen opened, and the same damsel appeared, with her myrtle in her hand. She approached the vessel in which the fish were, and striking one of them, addressed the same words to it she had before done; when they all raising their heads, made the same answer. The damsel overturned the vessel with her rod, as she had done before, and went back through the opening in the wall, where she had entered. The grand vizier witnessed all that passed, “This is very surprising,” he cried, “and too extraordinary to be kept secret from the sultan’s ears. I will myself go and inform him of this prodigy.” He immediately, therefore, went, and gave an exact relation of all that had passed.
The sultan was much astonished, and became very anxious to see this wonder. For this purpose; he again sent for the fisherman, “Friend,” said he to him, when he came, “canst thou not bring me four more fish of different colours?”—“If your majesty,” answered the fisherman, “will grant me three days, I can promise to do so.” He obtained the time he wished, and went again, for the third time, to the pond. He was not less successful than before, and he caught four fish, of different colours, the first time he threw his nets. He neglected not to carry them directly to the sultan, who expressed the greater pleasure at seeing them, as he did not expect them so soon; and he ordered four hundred pieces of money to be given to the fisherman.
As soon as the sultan had got the fish, he had them taken into his own cabinet, together with the different things that were necessary to dress them. Here he shut himself up with the grand vizier, who began to cook them, and put them on the fire in a proper vessel. As soon as they were done on one side, he turned them on the other. The wall of the cabinet immediately opened; but instead of the beautiful damsel, there appeared a black, who was in the habit of a slave. This black was very large and gigantic, and held a large green rod in his hand. He advanced to the vessel, and touching one of the fish with his rod, he cried out in a terrible tone, “Fish, fish, art thou doing thy duty?” At these words, the fish lifted up their heads and answered, “Yes, yes, we are, if you reckon, we reckon; if you pay your debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we conquer, and are content.” The fish had scarcely said this, when the black overturned the vessel into the middle of the cabinet, and reduced the fish to the state of cinders. Having done so, he haughtily retired through the opening of the wall, which instantly closed, and appeared as perfect as before.
“After what I have seen,” said the sultan to his grand vizier, “it is in vain for me to think of remaining at ease. It is certain, that these fish signify something very extraordinary, which I wish to discover.” He sent for the fisherman, and when he arrived, he said to him, “The fish thou hast brought me have caused me great uneasiness; where dost thou catch them?”—“I caught them, Sire,” answered he, “in a pond, which is situated in the midst of four small hills, beyond the mountain you may see from hence.”—“Do you know that pond?” said the sultan to the vizier.—“No Sire,” answered he, “I have never even heard it mentioned, though I have hunted in the vicinity of the mountain, and beyond it, near sixty years.”—The sultan asked the fisherman about what distance the pond was from the palace; he replied, that it was not more than three hours journey. With this assurance, as there was still time to arrive there before night, the sultan ordered his whole court to get ready, while the fisherman served as a guide.
They all ascended the mountain, and in going down on the other side, they were much surprised by the appearance of a large plain, which no one had ever before remarked. They at length arrived at the pond, which they found situated exactly among four hills, as the fisherman had reported. Its water was so transparent, that they remarked all the fish to be of the same colours as those the fisherman had brought to the palace.
The sultan halted on the side of the pond; and after observing the fish with signs of great admiration, he inquired of his emirs, and all his courtiers, if it could be possible, that they had never seen this pond, which was so close to the city. They all said, they had never heard it even mentioned. “Since you all agree then,” said he, “that you have never heard it spoken of, and since I am not less astonished than you are at this novelty, I am resolved not to return to my palace, till I have discovered for what reason this pond is now placed here, and why there are fish of only four colours in it.” After having thus spoken, he ordered them to encamp around it; his own pavilion, and the tents of his immediate household, were pitched on the borders of the pond.
When the day closed, the sultan retired to his pavilion, and entered into a particular conversation with his vizier. “My mind,” said he, “is much disturbed; this pond suddenly placed here, this black, who appeared to us in my cabinet, these fish too, which we heard speak; all this so much excites my curiosity, that I cannot conquer my impatience to be satisfied. It is on this account, that I am absolutely determined to execute the design I meditate. I shall go quite alone from my camp, and order you to keep my departure a profound secret. Remain in my pavilion, and when my emirs and courtiers present themselves at the entrance to-morrow morning, send them away, and say I have a slight indisposition, and wish to remain alone. You will also continue to do so every day till my return.