Part 81

God keep the commander of the faithful in the possession and right use of his senses, replied Abon Hassan, still sighing and crying: you see how it is, and that I have not imposed upon his majesty. And I wish to heaven, continued he, to dissemble the better, that I had no occasion to tell him the melancholy and affecting news. Alas! I cannot enough express my irreparable loss! That is true, replied Mesrour, and I can assure you I take a great share in your affliction; but you must be comforted, and not abandon yourself to your grief. --I leave you with reluctance, to return to the caliph; but I beg the favour of you not to bury the corpse till I come again; for I will assist at the interment, and accompany it with my prayers. Mesrour went to give an account of his message. Abon Hassan waited on him to the door, and told him that he did not deserve the honour that he intended him: and for fear Mesrour should return to say something else to him, he followed him with his eyes for sometime, and when he saw him at a distance, returned to his wife, and released her. This is already, said he, a new scene of mirth, but I fancy it will not be the last; for certainly the princess Zobeide will not believe Mesrour, but will laugh at him, since she has too substantial a reason to the contrary; therefore we must expect some new event. While Abon Hassan was talking thus, Nouzhatoul-aouadat had time to put on her clothes again, and both went and sat down on a sofa opposite to the window, where they could see all that passed.

In the mean time, Mesrour reached Zobeide’s apartment, and going into her closet laughing, clapped his hands like one who had something very agreeable to tell.

The caliph, who was naturally impatient, would presently be informed of the truth of the matter, for he was piqued a little at the princess’s diffidence; therefore as soon as he met Mesrour, Vile slave, said he, is this a time to laugh? Why do not you tell me which is dead, the husband or the wife?

Commander of the faithful, answered Mesrour, putting on a serious countenance, it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat who is dead, for the loss of whom Abon Hassan is as much afflicted as when he appeared before your majesty. The caliph not giving him time to pursue his story, interrupted him, and cried out, laughing heartily, Good news! Zobeide, your mistress, was a moment ago possessed of the palace of paintings, and now it is mine. She staked it against my garden of pleasures, since you went; therefore you could not have done me a greater pleasure. I will take care to reward you: but give me a true account of what you saw.

Commander of the faithful, said Mesrour, when I came to Abon Hassan’s apartment, I found the door open, and he was bewailing the death of his wife Nouzhatoul-aouadat. He sat at the head of the deceased, who was laid out in the middle of the room, with her feet towards Mecca, and was covered with that piece of brocade which your majesty made a present of to Abon Hassan. After I had expressed the share I took in this grief, I went and lifted up the pall at the head, and knew Nouzhatoul-aouadat, though her face was very much swelled and changed. I exhorted Abon Hassan in the best manner I could to be comforted; and when I came away, I told him I would attend at his wife’s funeral, and desired him not to remove the corpse till I came. This is all I can tell your majesty. I ask no more, said the caliph, laughing heartily, and I am very well satisfied with your exactness. Then addressing himself to Zobeide, Well, madam, said he, have you yet any thing to say against so certain a truth? Will you always believe that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is alive, and that Abon Hassan is dead? And will you not own that you have lost your wager?

How, sir replied Zobeide, who would not believe one word that Mesrour said, do you think that I regard that impertinent follow of a slave, who knows not what he says? I am not blind or mad. With these eyes I saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat in the greatest affliction; I spoke to her myself, and she told me that her husband was dead. Madam, replied Mesrour, I swear to you by your own life, and that of the commander of the faithful, which are both dear to me, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is dead, and Abon Hassan is living.

Thou liest, base despicable slave! said Zobeide in a rage, and I will confound thee immediately; and thereupon, clapping her hands together, she called her women, who all came in. Come hither, said the princess to them, and speak the truth. Who was that who came and spoke with me a little before the caliph came here? The women all answered that it was poor afflicted Nouzhatoul-aouadat. And what, added she, addressing herself to her that was treasurer, did I order you to give her? Madam, answered the treasurer, I gave Nouzhatoul-aouadat, by your orders, a purse of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade, which she carried away with her. Well, then, sorry slave, said Zobeide to Mesrour, in a great passion, what have you to say to all this? Whom do you think now I ought to believe, you or my treasurer, my other women or myself.

Mesrour did not want for arguments to contradict the princess; but as he was afraid of provoking her too much, he chose rather to be silent, though he was satisfied within himself that the wife was dead, and not the husband.

All the time of this dispute between Zobeide and Mesrour, the caliph, who heard the evidence on both sides, which each party insisted on, and was persuaded of the contrary of what the princess said, because he had himself seen and spoken to Abon Hassan, and because of what Mesrour had told him, laughed heartily to see Zobeide so exasperated against Mesrour. Madam, said he to Zobeide, once more I repeat, that I know not who was the author of that saying, That women sometimes lose their wits, but I am sure you make it good. Mesrour came just now from Abon Hassan’s, and tells us that he saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat lying dead in the middle of the room, Abon Hassan alive, and sitting by her; and yet you will not believe this evidence, which nobody can reasonably refuse: I cannot comprehend this conduct.

Zobeide would not hear what the caliph represented. Pardon me, commander of the faithful, replied she, if I suspect you: I see very well that you have contrived with Mesrour to vex me, and to try my patience. And as I perceive that his report was concerted between you, I beg leave to send a person to Abon Hassan’s, to know whether or not I am in the wrong.

The caliph consented, and the princess charged with this important commission an old nurse, who had lived with her from her infancy, and was now present among the rest of her women. Hark ye, nurse, said she; you see my dispute with the commander of the faithful, and me and Mesrour; I need tell you no more. Go to Abon Hassan’s, or rather to Nouzhatoul-aouadat’s, for Abon Hassan is dead, and clear up this matter for me. If you bring me good news, a handsome present is your reward; make haste, and return immediately.

The nurse set out, to the great joy of the caliph, who was delighted to see Zobeide in this embarrassment; but Mesrour, extremely mortified to find the princess so angry with him, did all he could to appease her, and to make her and the caliph both satisfied with him. He was overjoyed when Zobeide sent the nurse; because he was persuaded that the report she would make would agree with his, and serve to justify him, and restore him to her favour.

In the mean time, Abon Hassan, who watched the window, perceived the nurse at a distance, and guessing that she was sent by Zobeide, called his wife, and told her that the princess’s nurse was coming to know the truth: therefore, said he, make haste and lay me out. Accordingly Nouzhatoul-aouadat did so, and covered him with the piece of brocade Zobeide had given her, and put his turban upon his face. The nurse, eager to acquit herself of her commission, came at a good round pace, and entering the room, perceived Nouzhatoul-aouadat all in tears, her hair dishevelled, and set at the head of her husband, beating her breast, and with all the expressions of violent grief.

The good old nurse went directly to the false widow. My dear Nouzhatoul-aouadat, said she with a sorrowful face, I come not to interrupt your grief and tears for a husband whom you loved so tenderly. Ah! good mother, replied the counterfeit widow, you see my misfortune, and how unhappy I am by the loss of my beloved Abon Hassan. Abon Hassan, my dear husband! cried she, what have I done that you should leave me so soon? Have I not always preferred your will to my own? Alas! what will become of poor Nouzhatoul-aouadat?

The nurse was in great surprise to see every thing quite the reverse of what the chief of the eunuchs had told the caliph. This black faced Mesrour, cried she, lifting up her hands, deserves to be confounded for having made so great a difference between my good mistress and the commander of the faithful, by the notorious lie he told them. I must tell you, daughter, said she, the wickedness of that villain Mesrour, who has asserted with an inconceivable impudence before our good mistress, that you were dead, and Abon Hassan was alive!

Alas! my good mother, cried Nouzhatoul-aouadat, I wish to heaven that it was true! I should not be in this sorrowful state, nor bewail a husband so dear to me! At these words she burst out into tears, and by her redoubled tears and cries, feigned most desperate sorrow.

The nurse was so much moved by her tears, that she sat down by her, and cried too. Then gently lifting up the turban and cloth, looked on the face of the corpse: Ah! poor Abon Hassan, she cried, covering his face again, God have mercy upon thee! Adieu, child, said she to Nouzhatoul-aouadat; if I could stay longer with you, I would with all my heart; but I am obliged to return immediately, to deliver my mistress from the uneasiness that black villain has occasioned her, by his impudent lie, assuring her with an oath that you was dead.

As soon as the nurse was gone, and had pulled the door after her, and Nouzhatoul-aouadat thought she would not come back again, she wiped her eyes, and released Abon Hassan; and then they both went and sat down on a sofa against the window, expecting what would be the end of this trick, and to be ready to act according as things should turn out.

The nurse, in the mean time, made all the haste she could to Zobeide. The pleasure of carrying the princess good news, and still more the hopes of a good reward, added wings to her feet, and running into the princess’s closet quite out of breath, she gave her a true account of all she had seen. Zobeide hearkened to the old woman’s relation with a most sensible pleasure; and when she had done, she said with a tone which showed she had won her cause, Repeat it once more before the caliph, who looks upon us all to be fools, and would make us believe we have no sense of religion, nor fear of God; and tell your story to that wicked black slave, who had the insolence to assert a falsity, though I knew it to be one.

Mesrour, who expected the nurse’s report would prove favourable on his side, was very much mortified to find it so much the contrary. He was also vexed at the anger Zobeide expressed against him, for a thing which he thought himself surer of than any body, that he was glad of having an opportunity of speaking his mind freely to the nurse, which he durst not do to the princess. Old toothless, said he to the nurse, you are a liar, and there is no truth in what you say; for I saw with my own eyes Nouzhatoul-aouadat laid out in the middle of the room.

You are a notorious liar yourself, replied the nurse with an insulting air, to dare to maintain so great a falsity before my face, who am just come from seeing Abon Hassan dead, and laid out, and left his wife alive. I am not an impostor, replied Mesrour, it is you who endeavour to lead us all into error.

What impudence, said the nurse, to dare to tell me I lie in the presence of their majesties, when I saw just now with my own eyes the fact I have had the honour to tell them. Indeed, nurse, answered Mesrour again, you had better hold your tongue, for you certainly doat.

Zobeide, who could not support this want of respect in Mesrour, who, without any regard to her, treated her nurse so injuriously in her presence, without giving the nurse time to reply to so gross an affront, said to the caliph, Commander of the faithful, I demand justice for this insolence to us both. She was so enraged she could say no more, but burst into tears.

The caliph, who had heard all this dispute, thought it very intricate. He mused some time, and could not tell what to think of so many contradictions. The princess, for her part, as well as Mesrour, the nurse, and all the women slaves, who were present, were as much puzzled, and remained silent. At last the caliph resumed the business, and addressing himself to Zobeide, said, I see very well we are all liars, myself first, and then you, Mesrour, and you, nurse; or at least it seems not one can be believed more than the other; therefore, let us go ourselves to know the truth, for I can see no other way to clear up these doubts.

So saying, the caliph rose up, the princess followed him, and Mesrour went before to open the doors: Commander of the faithful, said he, I am overjoyed that your majesty has taken this course; and shall be much more, when I shall make it plainly appear to the nurse, not that she doats, since the expression is unfortunately displeasing to my good mistress, but that her report is not true.

The nurse wanted not a reply: Hold your tongue, black face, said she; you doat yourself.

Zobeide, who was very much provoked at Mesrour, could not bear to hear him attack her nurse again, without taking her part: Vile slave, said she, say what you will, I maintain my nurse says the truth, and look upon you as a mere liar. Madam, replied Mesrour, if nurse is so very certain that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is alive, and Abon Hassan is dead, I will lay her what she dares of it. The nurse was as ready as he; I dare, said she, take you at your word; let us see if you dare unsay it. Mesrour stood to his word; and they laid a piece of gold brocade with silver flowers before the caliph and the princess.

The apartment the caliph and Zobeide came out of, though distant from Abon Hassan’s, was nevertheless just over against it, and Abon Hassan could perceive them coming, and told his wife he was very much mistaken if the caliph and Zobeide, preceded by Mesrour, and followed by a great number of women, were not coming to do them the honour of a visit. She looked through a lattice, and saw them. Though her husband told her beforehand, she seemed frightened, and cried out, What shall we do? We are ruined. Fear nothing, replied Abon Hassan; have you forgot already what we agreed on? We will both feign ourselves dead, and you shall see all will go well. At the slow rate they come, we shall be ready before they get to the door. Accordingly, Abon Hassan and his wife wrapped up and covered themselves with the pieces of brocade, and waited patiently for their visitors.

Mesrour, who came first, opened the door, and the caliph and Zobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were extremely surprised, and stood motionless, at the dismal sight which presented itself to their view, not knowing what to make of it. At last, Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, Alas! they are both dead! You have done so much, continued she, looking at the caliph and Mesrour, to endeavour to make me believe that my dear slave was dead, that I find it is true at last: grief for losing her husband has certainly killed her. Say rather, madam, answered the caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat died first, and the afflicted Abon Hassan sunk under his grief, and could not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to agree that you have lost your wager, and your palace of paintings is mine.

Hold there, answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by the caliph; I will maintain it, you have lost your garden of pleasures to me. Abon Hassan died first; since my nurse told you as well as me, that she saw her alive, and crying for the death of her husband.

The dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between Mesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they, and each pretended to win, and came at last to abuse each other very grossly.

At last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think that Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she had won. In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the truth, he advanced towards the two corpses, and sat down at the head, searching after some expedient that might gain him the victory over Zobeide. I swear, cried he, presently after, by the holy name of God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him that can tell me which of these two died first.

No sooner were these words out of the caliph’s mouth, but he heard a voice under Abon Hassan’s piece of brocade, say, Commander of the faithful, I died first; give me the thousand pieces of gold. At the same time he saw Abon Hassan throw off the piece of brocade, and come and prostrate himself at his feet, while his wife did the same to Zobeide, keeping on her piece of brocade out of decency. The princess at first shrieked out, so that she frightened all about her; but recovering herself at last, expressed great joy to see her dear slave rise again, just when she was almost inconsolable at having seen her dead. Ah! wicked Nouzhatoul-aouadat, cried she, what have I suffered for your sake? However, I forgive you from my heart, since you are not dead.

The caliph for his part was not so much surprised when he heard Abon Hassan’s voice; but thought he should have died with laughing at this unravelling of the mystery, and to hear Abon Hassan ask so seriously for the thousand pieces of gold. What, Abon Hassan, said he, continuing to laugh aloud, hast thou conspired against my life, to kill me a second time with laughing? How came this thought into your head, to surprise Zobeide and me thus, when we least thought of such a trick?

Commander of the faithful, replied Abon Hassan, I will declare to your majesty the whole truth without the least reserve. Your majesty knows very well that I always loved to eat and drink well, and the wife you gave me rather increased than restrained that inclination. With these dispositions your majesty may easily suppose we might spend a good estate; and to make short of my story, we were not in the least sparing of what your majesty so generously gave us. This morning, accounting with our caterer, who took care to provide every thing for us, and paying what we owed him, we found we had nothing left. Then reflections on what was past, and resolutions to manage better for the future, crowded into our thoughts; we formed a thousand projects, all which we rejected. At last, the shame of seeing ourselves reduced to so low a condition, and not daring to tell your majesty, made us contrive this trick to relieve our necessities, and to divert you with it, which we hope your majesty will be pleased to pardon us.

The caliph and Zobeide were very well satisfied with Abon Hassan’s sincerity, and not sorry for what was done; and then Zobeide, who had all along been very serious, began to laugh at the thoughts of Abon Hassan’s scheme. The caliph, who had not ceased laughing at the singularity of thus adventure, rising up, said to Abon Hassan and his wife, Follow me; I will give you the thousand pieces of gold I promised you, for joy to find you are not dead. Zobeide desired him to let her make her slave a present of the same sum, for the same reason. By this means Abon Hassan and his dear wife Nouzhatoul-aouadat long preserved the favour of the caliph Haroun Alraschid and the princess Zobeide, and by their liberality were made capable of pursuing their pleasures.

The Story of Aladdin; or, the Wonderful Lamp.

In the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the kingdom of China, the name of which I do not recollect, there lived a tailor, whose name was Mustapha, without any other distinction but that which his profession afforded him, and so poor, that he could hardly, by his daily labour, maintain himself and family, which consisted of a wife and son.

His son, who was called Aladdin, had been brought up after a very careless and idle manner, and by that means had contracted many vicious habits. He was wicked, obstinate, and disobedient to his father and mother, who, when he grew up, could not keep him within doors; but he would go out early in the morning, and stay out all day, playing in the streets and public places with little vagabonds of his own age.

When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father not being able to put him out to any other, took him into his own shop, and showed him how to use his needle: but neither good words nor the fear of chastisement were capable of fixing his lively genius. All that his father could do to keep him at home to mind his work was in vain; for no sooner was his back turned, but Aladdin was gone for that day. Mustapha chastised him, but Aladdin was incorrigible; and his father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his libertinism; and was so much troubled at not being able to reclaim him, that it threw him into a fit of sickness, of which he died in a few months.

The mother of Aladdin, finding that her son would not follow his father’s business, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of that trade, and with the money she got for them, and what she could get by spinning cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son.

Aladdin, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father, and who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid him he would fly in her face, gave himself entirely over to dissipation, and was never out of the streets from his companions. This course he followed till he was fifteen years old, without giving his mind to any thing whatever, or the least reflection on what would become of him. In this situation, as he was one day playing according to custom, in the street, with his vagabond troop, a stranger passing by stood still to observe him.

This stranger was a famous magician, called by the writer of this story the African Magician; and by that name I shall call him with the more propriety, as he was a native of Africa, and had been but two days come from thence.

Whether the African magician, who was a good physiognomist, had observed in Aladdin’s countenance something which was absolutely necessary for the execution of the design he came about, he inquired artfully about his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and when he had learned all he desired to know, he went up to him, and taking him aside from his comrades, said to him, Child, was not your father called Mustapha the tailor? --Yes, sir, answered Aladdin, but he has been dead a long time.