Part 21

The vizier was not backward in performing what he was ordered. He mounted on horseback, with all the emirs and courtiers, and repaired to the caravansary where the princess of Deryabar was, whom he acquainted with his orders, and presented her, from the king, a fine white mule, whose saddle and bridle were adorned with gold, rubies, and diamonds. She mounted it, and went to the palace, attended by all those great men. The surgeon bore her company, mounted on a sprightly Tartar horse which the vizier had provided for him. All the people were at their windows, or in the streets, to see that noble cavalcade; and it being given out that the princess, whom they conducted in such state to court, was Codadad’s wife, the city resounded with acclamations, the air rang with shouts of joy, which would certainly have been turned into lamentations, had that prince’s fatal adventure been known; so much was he beloved by all men.

The princess of Deryabar found the king at the palace gate, waiting to receive her. He took her by the hand, and led her to Pirouze’s apartment, where a very moving scene was acted among them. Codadad’s wife found her affliction redouble upon her at the sight of her husband’s father and mother; as, on the other side, those parents could not look on their son’s wife without being much concerned. She cast herself at the king’s feet, and having bathed them with tears, was so overcome with grief, that she was not able to speak one word. Pirouze was in no better condition; she seemed to be stunned with her sorrows; and the king, moved by those dismal objects, gave way to his passion: those three persons, mixing their tears and sighs, for some time observed a silence, which appeared extraordinary moving and pitiful. At length the princess of Deryabar, being somewhat recovered, recounted the adventure of the castle and Codadad’s disaster. Then she required justice for the treachery of the princes. Yes, madam, said the king to her, those ungrateful wretches shall perish, but Codadad’s death must first be made public, that the punishment of his brothers may not cause my subjects to rebel; and, though we have not my son’s body, we will not omit paying him the last duties. This said, he directed his discourse to the vizier, and ordered him to build a dome of white marble in a delightful plain, in the midst of which the city of Harran stands; then he appointed the princess of Deryabar a fine apartment in his palace, acknowledging her for his daughter-in-law.

Hassan caused the work to be carried on with such diligence, and employed so many workmen, that the dome was soon finished. Within it was erected a monument, and on it was placed a figure representing Codadad. As soon as all was perfected, the king ordered prayers to be said, and appointed a day for the obsequies of his son.

On that day, all the inhabitants of the city went out upon the plain to see that ceremony performed; which was after this manner. The king, attended by his vizier and the prime persons of the court, proceeded towards the dome; and being come to it, went in, and sat down with them on carpets laid on the ground, made of black satin, with gold flowers. A great body of horse guards, hanging their heads, and looking down, drew up close about the dome, and marched round it twice, observing a profound silence; but at the third round, they halted before the door, and all of them with a loud voice pronounced these words: ‘O prince, son to the king, could we by dint of sword and human valour any way retrieve your misfortune, we would bring you back to life; but the King of kings has commanded, and the angel of death has obeyed.’ Having uttered these words, they drew off, to make way for a hundred old men, all of them mounted on black mules, and wearing long gray beards.

These were anchorites, who lived all their days concealed in caves. They never appeared in the sight of the world, but when they were to assist at the obsequies of the kings of Harran, and of the princes of their family. Each of these venerable persons carried a book on his head, which he held with one hand. They took three turns round the dome without uttering one word; then stopping before the door, one of them said, ‘O prince, what can we do for you? If you could be restored to life by prayers or learning, we would rub our gray beards at thy feet, and recite prayers; but the King of the universe has taken you away for ever.’

This said, the old men removed at a distance from the dome, and immediately fifty young beautiful maids drew near to it: each of them was mounted on a little white horse: they wore no veils, and carried gold baskets full of all sorts of precious stones. Thus they did also ride thrice round the dome; and, halting at the same place as the others had done, the youngest of them spoke in the name of all as follows: ‘O prince, once so beautiful, what relief can you expect from us? If we could restore you to life by our charms, we would become your slaves. But you are no longer sensible to beauty, and have no more occasion for us.’

When the young maids were withdrawn, the king and his courtiers arose, and, having walked thrice round the figure representing Codadad, the king spoke as follows: ‘O my dear son, light of my eyes, I have then lost thee for ever.’ These words were attended with sighs, and he watered the tomb with his tears, his courtiers weeping with him. Then the gate of the dome was shut, and all the people returned to the city. The next day, there were public prayers in all the mosques; and the same was continued for eight days successively. On the ninth, the king resolved to cause the princes his sons to be beheaded. All the people, being incensed at their cruelty towards Codadad, impatiently expected to see them executed. The scaffolds were erecting; but the execution was respited, on account that, on a sudden, news was brought, that the neighbouring princes, who had before made war on the king of Harran, were advancing with more numerous forces than the first time, and were not then far from the city. It had been long known that they were preparing for war, but no great notice had been taken of it. This advice occasioned a general consternation, and gave new cause to lament the loss of Codadad, by reason that prince had signalized himself in the former war against those enemies. Alas! said they, were the brave Codadad alive, we should little value those princes who are coming to surprise us. The king, nothing dismayed, raised men with all possible speed, formed a considerable army, and, being too brave to expect the enemy to come and attack him within his walls, marched out to meet them. They, on their side, being informed by their advanced parties that the king of Harran was marching to engage them, halted in the plain, and formed their army.

As soon as the king discovered them, he also drew up his forces, and ranged them in order of battle. The signal was given, and he attacked them with extraordinary vigour. Nor was the opposition inferior: much blood was shed on both sides, and the victory remained long dubious; but at length it seemed to incline to the king of Harran’s enemies, who, being more numerous, were about hemming him in, when a good body of horse appeared on the plain, and drew near the two armies in good order. The sight of that fresh party daunted both sides, as not knowing what to think of them. But their doubts were soon cleared; for those horsemen fell upon the flank of the king of Harran’s enemies, giving such a furious charge, that they soon broke and put them to the rout; and, not so satisfied, they pursued them, and cut most of them in pieces.

The king of Harran, who had nicely observed all the action, admired the bravery of those horsemen, whose unexpected arrival had given the victory to his side. But, above all, he was charmed with their chief, whom he had seen fighting with a more than ordinary valour. He longed to know the name of that generous hero. Being impatient to see and thank him, he advanced towards him, but perceived he was coming to prevent him. The two princes drew near, and the king of Harran finding Codadad in that brave warrior who had just then succoured him, or rather defeated his enemies, became motionless with joy and surprise. Sir, said Codadad to him, you have sufficient cause to be astonished, seeing a man appear on a sudden before your majesty whom perhaps you concluded to be dead. I should have been so, had not Heaven preserved me still against your enemies. O my son! cried the king, is it possible that you are restored to me? Alas! I despaired of seeing you any more. Having so said, he stretched out his arms to the young prince, who flew to his loving embraces.

I know all, my son, said the king again, after having long held him in his arms; I know what return my sons have made you for the service you did in delivering them out of the hands of the black; but you shall be revenged to-morrow. Let us now go to the palace; your mother, who has wept sufficiently for you, expects me, to rejoice with us for the defeat of our enemies. What a joy will it be to her to be informed that my victory is your handy-work! Sir, said Codadad, give me leave to ask you, how could you come to know the adventure of the castle? Has any of my brothers, repenting, owned the thing to you? No, answered the king, the princess of Deryabar has given us an account of all things; for she is in my palace, and came thither to demand justice against your brothers. Codadad was in a transport of joy to understand that the princess his wife was at the court. Let us go, sir, cried he to his father in a rapture, let us go to see my mother, who waits for us. I have an ardent desire to dry up her tears, as well as those of the princess of Deryabar.

The king immediately returned to the city, with his army, which he dismissed; entering his palace victorious, amidst the acclamations of his people, who followed him in crowds, praying to Heaven to prolong his life, and extolling Codadad to the skies. These two princes found Pirouze and her daughter-in-law waiting for the king to congratulate him; but there is no expressing the transport of joy they felt when they saw the young prince come with him: they dissolved in embraces, mixed with tears, but of a different sort from those they had before shed for him. When these four persons had performed all that the ties of blood and love demanded of them, the question was asked of Pirouze’s son, by what miracle he came to be still alive. He answered, that a peasant, mounted on a mule, happening accidentally to come into the tent where he lay senseless, and perceiving him alone, and stabbed in several places, had made him fast on his mule, and carried him to his house, where he applied to his wounds certain herbs chewed, which had recovered him in a few days. When I found myself well, added he, I returned thanks to the peasant, and gave him all the diamonds I had. Then I drew near the city of Harran; but being informed by the way that some neighbouring princes had gathered forces, and were coming to fall upon the king’s subjects, I made myself known unto the villagers, and stirred up those people to stand upon their guard. I armed a good number of young men; and heading them, happened to come in at that time when the two armies were engaged.

When he had done speaking, the king said, Let us return thanks to God for having preserved Codadad; but it is requisite that the traitors, who would have destroyed him, should perish this day. Sir, answered the generous son of Pirouze, though they are wicked and ungrateful, consider they are your own flesh and blood: they are my brothers; I forgive them the offence, and beg pardon of you for them. This generosity drew tears from the king, who caused the people to be assembled, and declared Codadad his heir. Then he ordered the princes, who were prisoners, to be brought, loaded with irons. Pirouze’s son knocked off their chains, and embraced them all successively, with as much sincerity as he had done in the court of the black’s castle. The people were charmed with Codadad’s good nature, and highly applauded him. Next he nobly rewarded the surgeon, to requite the service he had done the princess of Deryabar.

The sultaness Scheherazade, having told the story of Ganem with so much address, and in so agreeable a manner, that the sultan of the Indies could not forbear showing the pleasure that relation gave him, said to that monarch, I doubt not but your majesty is very well satisfied to find the caliph Haroun Alraschid change his sentiments in favour of Ganem, his mother, and sister; and I believe you may be sensibly affected with their misfortunes, and the ill treatment they received; but am persuaded, if your majesty would hear the story of the Sleeper Awakened, it would, instead of exciting all those emotions of indignation and compassion in your breast, on the contrary, afford you all the mirth and diversion imaginable. The sultan, who promised himself some new adventures from the title of that story, would have heard it that morning; but perceiving day approached, deferred it till next, when Dinarzade called upon her sister, who began her story as follows.

THE STORY OF THE SLEEPER AWAKENED.

In the reign of caliph Haroun Alraschid, there lived at Bagdad a very rich merchant, who, having married a woman pretty well in years, had but one son, whom he named Abon Hassan, and educated with great restraint. When this son was thirty years old, the merchant died, and left him his sole heir, and master of great riches, which his father had amassed together by his industry, frugality, and great application to business.

Abon Hassan, whose views and inclinations were very much different from those of his father, was resolved to make another use of his wealth; for, as his father had never allowed him any money but what was just necessary for subsistence, and he had always envied those young persons of his age who wanted none, and who debarred themselves from none of those pleasures to which youth are too much addicted, he resolved, in his turn, to signalize himself by extravagances proportionable to his fortune. To this end, he divided his riches in two parts; with one half he bought houses in town and land in the country, with a promise to himself never to touch the income of his estate, which was considerable enough to live upon very handsomely, but lay it all by; with the other half, which he kept by him in ready money, he designed to make himself amends for the time he had lost in the severe restraint with which his father had always kept him.

With this intent, Abon Hassan associated himself in a few days with people of his age and condition, and thought of nothing more than how to spend their time agreeably. Every day he gave them splendid entertainments, at which the most exquisite and delicate wines flowed in plenty, while concerts of the best vocal and instrumental music heightened their pleasures; and then this young band of debauchees, with glasses in their hands, sang and joined with the music; and these feasts generally ended with balls at night, to which the best dancers in Bagdad, of both sexes, were invited. These entertainments, renewed every day, were so expensive to Abon Hassan, that he could not support the extravagance above one year; and, in short, the great sum which he had consecrated to this prodigality and the year ended together. As soon as he left off keeping this table, his friends forsook him: whenever they saw him, they avoided him; and if by chance he met any of them, and would stop them, they always excused themselves on some pretence or other.

Abon Hassan, touched more to the quick at this strange behaviour of his friends, who had forsaken him so basely and ungratefully, after all the protestations of friendship they had made him, and their inviolable attachment to his service, than all the money he had foolishly squandered away, went, melancholy and thoughtful, into his mother’s apartment, and sat down on a sofa a good distance from her. What is the matter with you, son? said his mother, reading his grief in his countenance: why are you so altered, so dejected, and so much different from yourself? You could not certainly be more concerned if you had lost all you had in the world. I know you have lived very profusely, and believe all your money is spent; yet you have a good estate; and the reason I did not so very much oppose your irregular way of living, was, I knew the wise precaution you had taken to preserve half your substance; therefore I do not see why you should plunge yourself into this deep melancholy.

At these words, Abon Hassan melted into tears, and in the midst of his sighs cried out, Ah! mother, I see at last, by sad experience, how insupportable poverty is: I am sensible that it deprives us of joy, as much as the setting sun does of light. In poverty, we have no commendations and fine things said unto us: we endeavour to conceal all our actions, and spend our nights in tears and sorrow. In short, a poor man is looked upon, both by friends and relations, as a stranger. You know, mother, how I have used my friends for this year past: I have entertained them with all imaginable generosity, till I have spent all my money; and now they have left me, when I can treat them no longer. For my estate, I thank Heaven for having given me the grace to keep the oath I have made not to enter upon that; and now I shall know how to make a good use of it. But first, I will try the gratitude of friends, who deserve not that I should call them so: I will go to them one after another, and when I have represented to them what I have done for their sakes, I will ask them to make me up a sum of money among them, to relieve me out of the miserable condition I am reduced to: these are the steps I intend to take to try their gratitude.

I do not pretend, son, said Abon Hassan’s mother, to dissuade you from executing your design; but I can tell you before-hand, that you have no ground for any hope: believe me, you will find no relief, but from the estate you have reserved. I see you do not, but will soon know those people, whom we generally call friends; and I wish to Heaven you may, in the manner I desire; that is to say, for your own good. Mother, replied Abon Hassan, I am persuaded of the truth of what you say; but shall be certain of a fact which concerns me so nearly, when I shall inform myself better of their baseness. Upon this, Abon Hassan went immediately to his friends, whom he found at home, represented to them the great need he was in, and begged of them to loose their purse-strings to assist him. He promised to give every one bonds to pay them the money they lent him, as soon as his affairs were made up; giving them to understand, at the same time, that it was, in a great measure, upon their accounts that he was undone; and forgetting not to allure them with the hopes of being once again entertained in the same manner as before.

Not one of his bottle companions was affected with the arguments which the afflicted Abon Hassan made use of to persuade them; and he had the mortification to find, that many of them told him plainly they scarce knew him.

He returned home again full of grief and rage; and, going into his mother’s apartment, said, Ah! madam, you was in the right of it; instead of friends, I have found none but ungrateful, perfidious wretches, who deserve not my friendship; whom I renounce, and promise never to see them more. He resolved to be as good as his word; and, to that end, took all possible precautions to avoid falling into the same inconvenience, taking an oath never to give an inhabitant of Bagdad any entertainment again. Afterwards he opened a strong chest, in which he had put the rents he had received from his estate, and resolved to take every day a sum that was sufficient to defray the expense of a single person to sup with him; who, according to the oath he had taken, must be a stranger that came into Bagdad the same day, and must take his leave of him the next morning.

According to this project, Abon Hassan took care every morning to provide whatever he designed for night, and towards the close of the evening went and sat on Bagdad bridge; and, as soon as ever he saw a stranger, of whatever condition he was, he accosted him civilly, and invited him to sup and lodge with him that night; and, after having informed him of the law he had imposed upon himself, took him home with him. The repast with which Abon Hassan regaled his guests was not costly, but always plain and neat, with plenty of good wine, and generally lasted till the night was pretty well advanced; when, instead of entertaining his guest with the affairs of state, his family or business, as is too frequent, he affected to talk of indifferent subjects, and was naturally of so gay and pleasant a temper, that he could give the most agreeable turns in conversation, and make the most reserved and melancholy persons merry. When he saw his guest again the next morning, he always said to him, God preserve you from all sorrow wherever you go: when I invited you yesterday to come and sup with me, I informed you of the law I have made; therefore do not take it ill if I tell you that we must never see one another again, nor drink together, for reasons best known to myself: so God conduct you.

Abon Hassan was very exact in the observation of this oath, and never looked upon, or spoke to, any stranger he had once entertained, wherever he met them; and had lived for a long time after this manner, when one afternoon, a little before sunset, as he was sitting upon the bridge, according to custom, the caliph Haroun Alraschid came by so disguised that nobody could know him: for that monarch, though his chief ministers and officers of justice acquitted themselves of their duty very punctually, yet would take notice of every thing himself; and, to that purpose, often disguised himself, and walked through the city and suburbs of Bagdad; and that day was dressed like a merchant of Moussel, who had but just disembarked, and was followed by a slave.

As the caliph had in his disguise a grave and awful air, Abon Hassan, who thought him to be a Moussel merchant, went directly to him; and, after having saluted him with a smiling countenance, and kissed his hand, said, Sir, I congratulate you on your happy arrival, and beg of you to do me the honour to go and sup with me, and repose yourself at my home this night, after the fatigue of your voyage; and, to oblige him not to deny him that favour, he told him his custom of entertaining the first stranger he met with. The caliph found something so odd and singular in Abon Hassan’s taste, that he was very desirous to know the bottom, without quitting the character of a merchant; and told him, that he could not better answer that great civility, which he did not expect at his arrival at Bagdad, than by accepting the obliging offer that he made him.

Abon Hassan, who knew not that the guest which fortune presented to him was so very much above him, treated him as his equal, carried him home, and led him into a room very neatly furnished, where he set him on a sofa, at the upper end of a table that was ready laid for supper, which was soon after sent up by Abon Hassan’s mother, who took upon herself the care of the kitchen, and consisted of three dishes. The first was a capon and four large pullets, which were set in the middle; and the second and third, placed on each side, were a fat roasted goose and boiled pigeons, all dressed very neatly, and with proper sauces.