Part 5

Sir, replies the sultaness, the third old man told his story to the genie: I cannot tell it to you, because it is not come to my knowledge; but I know that it did so much exceed the two former stories, in the variety of wonderful adventures, that the genie was astonished at it, and no sooner heard the end of it, but he said to the third old man, I remit the other third part of the merchant’s crime upon the account of your story. He is very much obliged to all three of you for having delivered him out of this danger, by your stories, without which he had not now been in the world. And, having spoke thus, he disappeared to the great contentment of the company.

The merchant failed not to give his three deliverers the thanks he owed them. They rejoiced to see him out of danger; after which they bade him adieu, and each of them went on his way. The merchant returned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his days with them in peace. But, sir, added Scheherazade, now pleasant soever these stories may be, that I have told your majesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the fisherman. Dinarzade, perceiving that the sultaness demurred, says to her, sister, since there is still some time remaining, pray tell us the story of the fisherman, if the sultan is willing. Schahriar agreed to it; and Scheherazade, resuming her discourse, pursued it in this manner:

The Story of the Fisherman.

Sir --There was a very ancient fisherman, so poor, that he could scarce earn enough to maintain himself, his wife, and three children. He went every day to fish betimes in a morning; and imposed it as a law upon himself, not to cast his nets above four times a day. He went one morning by moonlight, and coming to the sea-side, undressed himself, and cast in his nets. As he drew them towards the shore, he found them very heavy, and thought he had a good draught of fish, at which he rejoiced within himself; but in a moment after perceiving, that, instead of fish, there was nothing in his nets but the carcass of an ass, he was much vexed. Scheherazade stopped here, because she saw it was day.

Sister, says Dinarzade, I must confess, that the beginning of the story charms me, and I foresee that the result of it will be very agreeable. There is nothing more surprising than the story of this fisherman, replied the sultaness; and you will be convinced of it next night, if the sultan will be so gracious as to let me live. --Schahriar being curious to hear the success of such an extraordinary fishing, would not order Scheherazade to be put to death that day.

NINTH NIGHT.

My dear sister, cried Dinarzade, next morning, at the usual hour, if you be not asleep, I pray you go on with the story of the fisherman; I am ready to die till I hear it. I am willing to give you that satisfaction, says the sultaness: but, at the same time she demanded leave of the sultan, and having obtained it, began the story again as follows:

Sir, when the fisherman, vexed to have made such a sorry draught, had mended his nets, which the carcass of the ass had broken in several places, he threw them in a second time; and when he drew them, found a great deal of resistance, which made him think he had taken abundance of fish; but he found nothing except a basket full of gravel and slime, which grieved him extremely. O, fortune! cries he, with a lamentable tone, be not angry with me, nor persecute a wretch who prays thee to spare him. I came hither from my house to seek for my livelihood, and thou pronouncest death against me. I have no other trade but this to subsist by; and, notwithstanding all the pains I take, I can scarcely provide what is absolutely necessary for my family. But I am to blame to complain of thee; thou takest pleasure to persecute honest people, and to leave great men in obscurity, while thou showest favour to the wicked, and advancest those who have no virtue to recommend them.

Having finished this complaint, he threw away the basket in a fret, and washing his nets from the slime, cast them the third time; but brought up nothing, except stone, shells, and mud. Nobody can express his disorder; he was almost beside himself. However, when day began to appear, he did not forget to say his prayers, like a good Mussulman, and afterwards added this petition: “Lord, thou knowest that I cast my nets only four times a day; I have already drawn them three times, without the least reward for my labour: I am only to cast them once more; I pray thee to render the sea favourable to me, as thou didst to Moses.”

The fisherman having finished this prayer, cast his nets the fourth time; and when he thought it was time, he drew them as formerly, with great difficulty; but instead of fish, found nothing in them but a vessel of yellow copper, which, by its weight, seemed to be full of something; and he observed that it was shut up and sealed with lead, having the impression of a seal upon it. This rejoiced him: I will sell it, says he, to the founder, and with the money arising from the produce, buy a measure of corn. He examined the vessel on all sides, and shook it, to see if what was within made any noise, but heard nothing. This circumstance, with the impression of the seal upon the leaden cover, made him think there was something precious in it. To try this he took a knife, and opened it with very little labour. He presently turned the mouth downward, but nothing came out; which surprised him extremely. He set it before him, and while he looked upon it attentively, there came out a very thick smoke, which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it.

The smoke ascended to the clouds, and extending itself along the sea and upon the shore, formed a great mist, which, we may well imagine, did mightily astonish the fisherman. When the smoke was all out of the vessel, it re-united itself, and became a solid body, of which there was formed a genie twice as high as the greatest of giants. At the sight of a monster of such an unsizeable bulk, the fisherman would fain have fled, but was so frightened that he could not go one step.

Solomon, cried the genie immediately, Solomon, the great prophet, pardon, pardon; I will never more oppose your will, I will obey all your commands.--

Scheherazade, perceiving day, broke off her story.

Upon which Dinarzade said, Dear sister, nobody can keep their promise better than you have done yours. This story is certainly more surprising than all the former. Sister, replies the sultaness, there are more wonderful things yet to come, if my lord the sultan will allow me to tell them to you. Schahriar had too great a desire to hear out the story of the fisherman, to deprive himself of that pleasure; and therefore put off the sultaness’s death another day.

TENTH NIGHT.

Dinarzade called her sister next night, when she thought it was time, and prayed her to continue the story of the fisherman; and the sultan being also impatient to know what concern the genie had with Solomon, Scheherazade continued her story thus:

Sir, the fisherman, when he heard these words of the genie, recovered his courage, and said to him, Proud spirit, what is it that you say? It is above eighteen hundred years since the prophet Solomon died, and we are now at the end of time. Tell me your history, and how you came to be shut up in this vessel.

The genie, turning to the fisherman, with a fierce look, says, you must speak to me with more civility; thou art very bold to call me a proud spirit. Very well, replies the fisherman, shall I speak to you with more civility, and call you the owl of good luck? I say, answers the genie, speak to me more civilly before I kill thee. Ah! replies the fisherman, why would you kill me? Did not I just now set you at liberty, and have you already forgotten it? Yes, I remember it, says the genie, but that shall not hinder me from killing thee: I have only one favour to grant thee. And what is that? says the fisherman. It is, answers the genie, to give thee thy choice, in what manner thou wouldst have me take thy life. But wherein have I offended you? replies the fisherman. Is that your reward for the good services I have done you? I cannot treat you otherwise, says the genie; and that you may be convinced of it, hearken to my story.

I am one of those rebellious spirits that opposed the will of Heaven; all the other genii owned Solomon, the great prophet, and submitted to him. Sacar and I were the only genii that would never be guilty of a mean thing: and, to avenge himself, that great monarch sent Asaph, the son of Barakhia, his chief minister, to apprehend me. That was accordingly done. Asaph seized my person, and brought me by force before his master’s throne.

Solomon, the son of David, commanded me to quit my way of living, to acknowledge his power, and to submit myself to his command; I bravely refused to obey, and told him, I would rather expose myself to his resentment, than swear fealty, and submit to him, as he required. To punish me, he shut me up in this copper vessel; and to make sure of me, that I should not break prison, he himself stamped upon this leaden cover his seal, with the great name of God engraved upon it. Then he gave the vessel to one of the genii who submitted to him, with orders to throw me into the sea, which was executed to my sorrow.

During the first hundred years imprisonment, I swore that if any one would deliver me before the hundred years expired, I would make him rich, even after his death: but that century ran out, and nobody did me that good office. During the second, I made an oath, that I would open all the treasures of the earth to any one that should set me at liberty; but with no better success. In the third, I promised to make my deliverer a potent monarch, to be always near him in spirit, and to grant him every day three requests, of what nature soever they might be: but this century ran out as well as the two former, and I continued in prison. At last, being angry, or rather mad, to find myself a prisoner so long, I swore, that if afterwards any one should deliver me, I would kill him without mercy, and grant him no other favour but to choose what kind of death he would die; and, therefore, since you have delivered me to-day, I give you that choice.

This discourse afflicted the poor fisherman extremely; I am very unfortunate, cries he, to come hither to do such a piece of good service to one that is so ungrateful. I beg you to consider your injustice, and revoke such an unreasonable oath: pardon me, and heaven will pardon you; if you grant me my life, heaven will protect you from all attempts against yours. No, thy death is resolved on, says the genie, only choose how you will die. The fisherman, perceiving the genie to be resolute, was extremely grieved, not so much for himself, as for his three children; and bewailed the misery they must be reduced to by his death. He endeavoured still to appease the genie, and says, Alas! be pleased to take pity on me, in consideration of the good service I have done you. I have told thee already, replies the genie, it is for that very reason I must kill thee. That is very strange, says the fisherman, are you resolved to reward good with evil? The proverb says, “That he who does good to one who deserves it not, is always ill rewarded.” I must confess, I thought it was false; for in effect there can be nothing more contrary to reason, or the laws of society. Nevertheless, I find now by cruel experience, that it is but too true. Do not lose time, replies the genie; all thy reasoning shall not divert me from my purpose: make haste and tell me which way you choose to die.

Necessity is the mother of invention. The fisherman bethought himself of a stratagem. Since I must die, then, says he to the genie, I submit to the will of heaven; but before I choose the manner of death, I conjure you by the great name which was engraven upon the seal of the prophet Solomon, the son of David, to answer me truly the question I am going to ask you.

The genie finding himself obliged to a positive answer by this abjuration, trembled; and replied to the fisherman, Ask what thou wilt, but make haste. Day appearing, Scheherazade held her peace.

Sister, says Dinarzade, it must be owned that the more you speak, the more you surprise and satisfy. I hope our lord, the sultan, will not order you to be put to death, till he hears out the fine story of the fisherman. The sultan is absolute, replies Scheherazade, we must submit to his will in every thing. But Schahriar being as willing as Dinarzade to hear an end of the story, did again put off the execution of the sultaness.

ELEVENTH NIGHT.

Schahriar, and the princess his spouse, passed this night in the same manner as they had done the former; and before break of day, Dinarzade awaked them with these words, addressed to the sultaness: I pray you, sister, to resume the story of the fisherman. With all my heart, said Scheherazade, I am willing to satisfy you, with the sultan’s permission.

The genie, continued she, having promised to speak the truth, the fisherman says to him, --I would know if you were actually in this vessel: dare you swear it by the name of the great God? Yes, replied the genie, I do swear by that great name that I was, and it is a certain truth. In good faith, answered the fisherman, I cannot believe you; the vessel is not capable of holding one of your feet, and how should it be possible that your whole body could lie in it? I swear to thee, notwithstanding, replied the genie, that I was there just as you see me here: Is it possible, that thou dost not believe me after this great oath that I have taken? Truly, not I, said the fisherman; nor will I believe you, unless you show it me.

Upon which the body of the genic was dissolved, and changed itself into smoke, extending itself as formerly upon the sea and shore: and then at last being gathered together, it began to re-enter the vessel, which it continued to do successively by a slow and equal motion, after a smooth and exact way, till nothing was left out; and immediately, a voice came forth, which said to the fisherman, Well, now, incredulous fellow, I am all in the vessel, do not you believe me now.

The fisherman, instead of answering the genie, took the cover of lead, and having speedily shut the vessel, Genie, cries he, now it is your turn to beg my favour, and to choose which way I shall put you to death; but not so, it is better that I should throw you into the sea, whence I took you: and then I will build a house upon the bank, where I will dwell, to give notice to all fishermen who come to throw in their nets, to beware of such a wicked genie as thou art, who hast made an oath to kill him that shall set thee at liberty.

The genie, enraged at those expressions, did all he could to get out of the vessel again; but it was not possible for him to do it; for the impression of Solomon’s seal prevented him. So perceiving that the fisherman had got the advantage of him, he thought fit to dissemble his anger; Fisherman, said he, in a pleasant tone, take heed you do not do what you say, for what I spoke to you before was only by way of jest, and you are to take it no otherwise. O, genie! replies the fisherman, thou who wast but a moment ago the greatest of all genie, and now art the least of them, thy crafty discourse will signify nothing to thee, but to the sea thou shalt return. If thou hast staid there already so long as thou hast told me, thou mayst very well stay there till the day of judgment. I begged of thee in God’s name, not to take away my life, and thou didst reject my prayers; I am obliged to treat thee in the same manner.

The genie omitted nothing that could prevail upon the fisherman; Open the vessel, says he, give me my liberty, I pray thee, and I promise to satisfy thee to thy own content. Thou art a mere traitor, replies the fisherman; I should deserve to lose my life, if I were such a fool as to trust thee; thou wilt not fail to treat me in the same manner as a certain Grecian king treated the physician Douban. It is a story I have a mind to tell thee, therefore listen to it.

The Story of the Grecian King and the Physician Douban.

There was in the country of Zouman, in Persia, a king, whose subjects were originally Greeks. This king was all over leprous, and his physicians in vain endeavoured his cure; and when they were at their wits end what to prescribe to him, a very able physician, called Douban, arrived at his court.

This physician had learned his science in Greek, Persian, Turkish, Arabian, Latin, Syriac, and Hebrew books; and besides that, he was an expert philosopher, and fully understood the good and bad qualities of all sorts of plants and drugs. As soon as he was informed of the king’s distemper, and understood that his physicians had given him over, he clad himself in the best habits he could procure, and found means to present himself to the king. Sir, says he, I know that all your majesty’s physicians have not been able to cure you the leprosy; but if you will do me the honour to accept my service, I will engage myself to cure you without potions, or external applications.

The king listened to what he said, and answered, If you be able to perform what you do promise, I will enrich you and your posterity; and besides the presents I shall make you, you shall be my chief favourite. Do you assure me, then, that you will cure me of my leprosy, without making me take any potion, or applying any external medicine? Yes, sir, replies the physician; I promise myself success, through God’s assistance, and to-morrow I will make trial of it.

The physician returned to his quarters, and made a mallet, hollow within, and at the handle he put in his drugs: he made also a ball in such a manner as suited his purpose, with which, next morning, he went to present himself before the king, and falling down at his feet, kissed the ground. Here Scheherazade, perceiving day, acquainted the sultan with it, and held her peace.

I wonder, sister, says Dinarzade, where you learn so many fine things. You shall hear a great many others to-morrow, replies Scheherazade, if the sultan, my master, will be pleased to prolong my life farther. Schahriar, who longed as much as Dinarzade, to hear the sequel of the story of Douban, the physician, did not order the sultaness to be put to death that day.

TWELFTH NIGHT.

The twelfth night was far advanced, when Dinarzade called, and says, sister, you owe us the continuation of the agreeable history of the Grecian king and the physician Douban. I am very willing to pay my debt, replied Scheherazade, and resumed the story as follows:

Sir, the fisherman, speaking always to the genie, whom he kept shut up in the vessel, went on thus. The physician Douban rose up, and after a profound reverence, says to the king, he judged it meet that his majesty should take horse, and go to the place where he used to play at mall. [1] The king did so, and when he arrived there, the physician came to him with the mall, and says to him, Sir, exercise yourself with this mall, and strike the ball with it until you find your hands and your body in a sweat. When the medicine I have put up in the handle of the mall, is heated with your hand, it will penetrate your whole body; and as soon as you shall sweat, you may leave off the exercise, for then the medicine will have had its effect. As soon as you are returned to your palace, go into the bath, and cause yourself to be well washed and rubbed; then go to bed, and when you rise to-morrow you will find yourself cured.

The king took the mall, and struck the ball, which was returned by his officers that played with him; he struck it again, and played so long, that his hand and his whole body were in a sweat, and then the medicine shut up in the handle of the mall had its operation, as the physician said. Upon this the king left off play, returned to his palace, entered the bath, and observed very exactly what his physician had prescribed him.

He was very well after it, and next morning, when he arose, he perceived, with equal wonder and joy, that his leprosy was cured, and his body as clean as if he had never been attacked with that distemper. As soon as he was dressed, he came into the hall of audience, where he ascended his throne, and showed himself to his courtiers, who, eager to know the success of the new medicine, came thither betimes; and, when they saw the king perfectly cured, did all express great joy. The physician Douban entered the hall, and bowed himself before the throne, with his face to the ground. The king, perceiving him, called him, made him sit down by his side, showed him to the assembly, and gave him all the commendation he deserved. His majesty did not stop here; but, as he treated all his court that day, he made him eat at his table alone with him. At these words, Scheherazade, perceiving day, broke off her story. Sister, says Dinarzade, I know not what the conclusion of this story will be, but I find the beginning admirable. That which is to come is yet better, answered the sultaness; and I am certain you will not deny it, if the sultan gives me leave to make an end of it to-morrow night. Schahriar consented, and rose very well satisfied with what he had heard.

THIRTEENTH NIGHT.

Dinarzade, willing to keep the sultan in ignorance of her design, cried out as if she had started out of her sleep: O, dear sister, I have had a troublesome dream, and nothing will sooner make me forget it than the remainder of the story of the Grecian king and doctor Douban. I conjure you by the love you always bore me, not to defer it a moment longer. I shall not fail, good sister, to ease your mind; and if my sovereign will permit me, I will go on. Schahriar, being charmed with the agreeable manner of Scheherazade’s telling her stories, says to her, You will oblige me no less than Dinarzade, therefore continue. [2]

The Grecian king, says the fisherman to the genie, was not satisfied with having admitted the physician Douban to his table, but towards night, when he was about dismissing the company, he caused him to be clad in a long rich robe, like those which his favourites usually wore in his presence; and besides that he ordered him two thousand sequins. The next day and the day following, he continued his favour to him; in short, the prince, thinking that he could never enough acknowledge the obligations he lay under to that able physician, bestowed every day new favours upon him. But this king had a grand vizier, who was avaricious, envious, and naturally capable of all sort of mischief. He could not see, without envy, the presents that were given to the physician, whose other merits had already began to make him jealous, and therefore he resolved to lessen him in the king’s esteem. To effect this, he went to the king, and told him in private, that he had some advice to give him, which was of the greatest concern. The king having asked what it was, Sir, said he, it is very dangerous for a monarch to put confidence in a man whose fidelity he never tried. Though you heap favours upon the physician Douban, and show him all the familiarity that may be, your majesty does not know but he may be a traitor, and come on purpose to this court to kill you. From whom have you this, answered the king, that you dare to tell it me? Consider to whom you speak, and that you advance a thing which I shall not easily believe. Sir, replied the vizier, I am very well informed of what I have had the honour to represent to your majesty; therefore do not let your dangerous confidence grow to a farther height: if your majesty be asleep, be pleased to awake; for I once more repeat it, that the physician Douban did not leave the heart of Greece, his native country, nor come here to settle himself at your court, but to execute that horrible design which I have just now hinted to you.