Part 8

“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.”

THE HISTORY OF THE HUSBAND AND THE PARROT.

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.”

THE HISTORY OF THE VIZIER, WHO WAS PUNISHED.

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!”