The Arabian Nights, Volume II of IV
Part 20
“The caliph received her with an open countenance, and when he perceived the traces of that grief with which she was overwhelmed, but which nevertheless did not in the least diminish her beauty, for she appeared before him without any symptoms either of surprise or fear. ‘Schemselnihar,’ said he to her, with his usual accustomed goodness, ‘I cannot bear that you should appear before me with a countenance so strongly impressed by sorrow. You know with what ardour I have always loved you: You must be convinced of its sincerity by all the proofs I have given you of it. I am not changed; for I still love you more than ever. You have some enemies, and these enemies have made some ill reports of the manner in which you conduct yourself; every thing, however, that they can say of you, has not made the least impression upon my mind. Drive away then this melancholy, and dispose yourself to entertain me this evening with something as amusing and diverting as you used to do.’ He continued to say many other obliging things to her, and then conducted her into a magnificent apartment near his own; where he requested her to wait for him.
“The wretched Schemselnihar was sensibly affected at so many proofs of the caliph’s concern for her person: but the more she felt herself under obligations to him, the more was her bosom penetrated with grief at being separated, perhaps for ever, from the prince of Persia, without whom she was convinced she could not exist.
“This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,” continued the confidant, “took place while I was coming to speak to you; and I learnt the particulars of it from my companions, who were present. As soon, however, as I left you, I hastened back to Schemselnihar, and was witness to what passed in the evening. I found my mistress in the apartment I have mentioned; and as she was very sure I was come from your house, she desired me to approach her; and, without being overheard by any one, she said to me, ‘I am much obliged to you for the service you have just now rendered me: I feel that it will be the last.’ This was all she uttered, and I was not in a place where I could say any thing by way of endeavouring to afford her consolation.
The caliph in the evening entered Schemselnihar’s palace to the sound of instruments, which were touched by the females belonging to the Favorite, when a collation was instantly served up. The caliph took Schemselnihar by the hand, and made her sit near him upon a sofa. To comply with this action had such a violent effect upon her feelings, that in a few moments after we saw her expire. She was in fact hardly seated, before she fell backwards. The caliph thought that she had only fainted, nor had we at first any other idea. We gave her every assistance in our power; but she never breathed again. This then was the manner in which we suffered our great loss.
“The caliph honored her with his tears, which he was unable to restrain; and before he retired to his apartment he gave orders that all the musical instruments should be absolutely destroyed, which was accordingly done. I remained near the body the whole night, and both washed and prepared it for burial with my own hands, almost bathing it with my tears. It was the next day interred, by the command of the caliph, in a magnificent tomb, which he had before ordered to be built in a spot that Schemselnihar had herself chosen. And since,” added the slave, “you have told me the body of the prince of Persia is to be brought to Bagdad, I am determined that it shall be placed in the same tomb with that of the Favorite.”
The jeweller was very much astonished at this resolution of the confidant. “You do not surely recollect,” said he, “that the caliph will never suffer it.”--“You may believe the thing impossible,” replied she, “but I assure you, it is not. And you will agree with me, when I have informed you that the caliph has given their freedom to all the slaves that belonged to Schemselnihar, with a pension to each of them sufficient to support themselves; and that he has moreover appointed me to take care of, and watch her tomb, with a considerable salary both for its repair and my subsistence. Besides, the caliph, who is not ignorant of the mutual attachment of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, as I have already told you, and who is not now offended or hurt at it, will never have any objection to it.” In answer to this, the jeweller had nothing to say; he only requested the confidant to conduct him to the tomb, that he might offer up his prayers there. When he arrived, he was greatly surprised at seeing a crowd of people of both sexes, who had collected there from all parts of Bagdad. He could not even get near it; and could only pray at some distance. When he had finished his prayers, he said to the confidant in a satisfactory tone of voice, “I do not now think it impossible to accomplish what you so properly planned. We have only to make known the various facts we are acquainted with, concerning the Favorite and the prince of Persia, and particularly the death of the latter, which took place almost at the same instant with that of Schemselnihar.” Before his body arrived, all Bagdad agreed in demanding, that they should not be separated in the grave. The scheme succeeded, and on the day in which it was known the body would arrive, a multitude of people went out even twenty miles to meet it.”
The confidant waited at the gate of the city, where she presented herself before the mother of the prince of Persia, and requested her in the name of all the inhabitants, who so ardently desired it, to allow the bodies of the two lovers, whose hearts formed but one, from the commencement of their attachment to the last moment of their lives, to be united in one tomb. The lady agreed to it; and the body was carried to the tomb of Schemselnihar, an immense number of people of all ranks following it; and then placed by her side. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world, where mussulmen are known, have never ceased from feeling a great veneration for that tomb, and going to offer up their prayers at its foot.
“This, sire,” said Scheherazadè in this place, “is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the amours of the beautiful Schemselnihar, the Favorite of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, and the amiable Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.”
When Dinarzadè perceived the sultana, her sister, had concluded her speech, she thanked her most kindly for the pleasure she had afforded her by the recital of so interesting a history: “If the sultan,” replied Scheherazadè, “would suffer me to live till to-morrow, I would relate to him the history of prince Camaralzaman, [14] which he would find still more agreeable.” She was then silent; and Schahriar, who could not yet determine to give orders for her death, deferred it, in order to listen to the new story, which the sultana began to relate, on the following night.
THE HISTORY OF THE AMOURS OF CAMARALZAMAN, PRINCE OF THE ISLE OF THE CHILDREN OF KHALEDAN, AND OF BADOURA, PRINCESS OF CHINA.
About twenty days sail from the coast of Persia, sire, there is, in the open sea, an island, which is called the Isle of the Children of Khaledan. This island is divided into several large provinces, with many large flourishing and well-peopled towns scattered over them, and forms altogether a very powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by a king, named Schahzaman, who had four wives, as was the custom; all daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.
Schahzaman esteemed himself the happiest sovereign on the whole face of the earth, on account of the tranquillity and prosperity of his reign. One thing alone affected his happiness; he was already far advanced in years, and he had no children, notwithstanding he had so great a number of wives. He could not account in any way for this circumstance; and in the moments of his affliction he considered it as the greatest misfortune that could befal him, to die without leaving a successor to the throne, who was descended from him. He, for a considerable time, concealed the tormenting anxiety that preyed upon him; and he suffered so much the more as he endeavoured to assume an air of cheerfulness. At length he broke silence; and one day having complained of his misfortune in the bitterest terms of sorrow, in a private conversation he had with his grand vizier, he asked him if he knew of any means to remedy so great an evil.
“If what your majesty requires,” replied this wise minister, “depended on the common interference of human wisdom, you might soon have the gratification you so ardently desire; but I confess, my experience and knowledge is not equal to solve what you ask; to God alone you must apply in such cases; in the midst of our prosperity, which often makes us forget what we owe him, he sometimes mortifies us on some interesting point, that we may turn our thoughts to him, acknowledge his universal power, and ask of him that which we cannot obtain but by his interference. You have amongst your subjects some men, who devote themselves to the particular profession of knowing and serving him, and lead a life of penance and hardship for the love of him: my advice is, that your majesty should bestow alms on them, and request them to join their prayers to yours; perhaps amongst so great a number, one may be sufficiently pure and acceptable to God, to obtain from him the completion of your wishes.”
The King approved this advice, for which he thanked his grand vizier. He ordered alms to a considerable amount to be presented to each of these communities of people, consecrated to God; he then desired the superiors of them to come to him, and after having regaled them with a repast suited to their frugal manner of living, he declared his intention, and begged them to acquaint the devotees of it also, who were under their authority.
Schahzaman obtained from Heaven what he so much desired, and which was soon evident by the pregnancy of one of his wives, who, at the expiration of nine months, presented him with a son. To testify his gratitude, he sent fresh presents to the societies of devout mussulmen, which were worthy of his dignity and greatness; and the birth of the prince was celebrated by public rejoicings for a whole week, not only in his capital but throughout his extensive dominions. The young prince was taken to him immediately on his birth, and he thought him so very beautiful, that he gave him the name of Camaralzaman, which means the moon of the age.
Prince Camaralzaman was educated with all possible attention, and when he had reached a proper age, the sultan appointed him a prudent governor and able preceptors. These persons, distinguished by their superior understandings, found in him a docile and intelligent disposition, capable of receiving all the instruction they wished to give him, either for the forming of his morals, or the cultivation of his mind, in such acquirements as a prince in his situation ought to be possessed of. And, when of a more advanced age, he learned various exercises with the same degree of facility; and acquitted himself with so much grace and address, that he charmed every beholder, but more particularly the sultan his father.
When the prince had attained the age of fifteen years, Schahzaman, who loved him with the greatest tenderness, and of which he gave him every day new and stronger proofs, conceived the design of bestowing on him the most striking mark of his affection, by descending from the throne himself, and raising his son to that distinguished situation. He communicated it to his grand vizier: “I fear,” said he, “that in the idleness of youth, my son will lose not only those advantages which nature has bestowed on him, but also such as he has so successfully acquired by the good education I have given him. As I am now advanced to an age to make me think of retiring from the world, I have almost resolved to give up the government to him, and to pass the rest of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I have laboured a long time, and I now want repose.”
The grand vizier would not then represent to the sultan all the reasons that might dissuade him from putting this design into execution; on the contrary, he appeared to concur in his wish. “Sire,” replied he, “the prince is still too young, I think, to be charged at so early a period with a burden so heavy as that of governing a powerful state. Your majesty is fearful that he may be corrupted, if suffered to lead a life of inactivity and indolence, and indeed with reason; but to remedy that evil, would it not in your opinion be more proper to marry him first? Marriage is likely to render his affections steady, and to prevent his entering into dissipation; added to that, your majesty might allow him admittance to your councils, by which he would learn by degrees to sustain the brilliancy and weight of your crown with dignity; and when sufficiently qualified, and you by experience found him equal to the undertaking, you might still resign it in his favor.”
Schahzaman thought this advice from his prime minister very reasonable and prudent; he therefore summoned his son, prince Camaralzaman, to attend him as soon as the grand vizier had taken his leave.
The prince, who hitherto had only seen the sultan at certain stated hours, without requiring a summons, was rather surprised al this order. Instead, therefore, of presenting himself before him in his usual free manner, he saluted him with great respect, and stopped as soon as he was in his presence, fixing his eyes on the ground.
The sultan perceived the restraint of the prince; “My son,” said he, in a tone intended to inspire him with confidence, “do you know on what account I sent for you?”--“Sire,” replied the prince, modestly, “God alone can penetrate into the recesses of the heart: I shall learn the reason from your majesty’s lips with the greatest pleasure.”--“I did it to acquaint you,” resumed the sultan, “that I wish you to marry: what do you think of it?”
Prince Camaralzaman heard these words with great concern. He was quite disconcerted; a cold damp arose on his face; and he knew not how to reply. After some moments passed in silence he said, “Sire, I entreat you to pardon me, if I appear confused at the declaration your majesty has just made; I did not expect it at my very youthful age. I do not even know, whether I shall ever be able to submit myself to the bonds of marriage, for I am well aware of the embarrassment and trouble occasioned by women; besides which, I have frequently read in our authors of their arts, their cunning, and their perfidy. Perhaps I may not always remain of this opinion; at any rate I feel, that I should require a considerable length of time to induce me to agree to what your majesty requires of me.”
This answer of the prince extremely afflicted the sultan his father. This monarch felt real grief at finding in his son so great a repugnance to matrimony. He did not, however, think proper to treat it as disobedience, nor to make use of the authority of a parent; he contented himself with saying, “I will not use any undue influence over you on this subject; I give you time to think of it, and to consider, that a prince, destined as you are to govern a large kingdom, ought in the first place to turn his thoughts to provide a successor in his own family. In giving yourself this satisfaction you will afford me a very great one, who shall love to see myself live over again in you and in the children, who are to prolong my race.”
Schahzaman said no more to prince Camaralzaman. He allowed him free entrance to the councils of state, and in every other respect gave him reason to be satisfied with his conduct towards him. At the expiration of a year he took him aside; “Well, my son,” said he, “have you remembered to make your reflections on the design I formed last year, of marrying you? Will you still refuse me the joy I should experience from your compliance with my wishes, and do you intend that I should die without experiencing this satisfaction?”
The prince appeared less discontented than on the former occasion, and did not long hesitate to reply with firmness in these words, “I have not, sire, omitted to reflect upon the subject; I gave it all the attention which it deserves; but, after having maturely considered it; I am still more confirmed in my resolution to live without any matrimonial engagement. In fact, the numberless evils which women have from time immemorial been the occasion of in the universe, as I have been well informed by our histories, and the daily accounts I hear of their cunning and malice, are the motives which determine me never to have any connexion with them. Therefore your majesty will pardon me, if I dare to assure you, that any arguments you may use, to endeavour to persuade me to marry, will be fruitless.” Here he ceased, and left the presence of the sultan in an abrupt manner, without even waiting for him to return an answer.
Any other monarch besides Schahzaman would with difficulty have restrained himself from using violence, after the rude and obstinate way in which the prince, his son, had expressed himself, and would have ordered him some punishment; but he tenderly loved him, and wished to employ every gentle means of persuasion before he had recourse to more rigid methods. He communicated this new cause of sorrow which Camaralzaman had given to him, to his prime minister. “I have followed your advice,” said he, “but my son is still more adverse to matrimony than he was the first time I spoke to him on the subject; and he explained himself in such a determined manner, that I needed all my reason and moderation to restrain my anger. Fathers who pray for children as ardently as I did, are madmen and fools, who seek to deprive themselves of that repose and quiet which they might otherwise have tranquilly enjoyed. Tell me, I entreat you, by what means I can reclaim a mind so rebellious to my desires.”
“Sire,” replied the grand vizier, “a great many things are accomplished through the medium of patience; perhaps this may not be of a nature to be conquered by such means; but your majesty will not have to reproach yourself with being too precipitate, if you consent to allow the prince another year to form his determination. If, during this interval, he does not return to his duty, you will have a much greater satisfaction in the consciousness of having employed no method, but that of paternal kindness, to obtain his consent. If, on the contrary, he persists in his obstinacy, then, when the year is expired, I think your majesty will be fully justified in declaring to him, before the whole council, that the good of the state requires his marriage. It is not possible that he should be wanting in respect towards you before an assembly of enlightened and celebrated men, which you honour with your presence.”
The sultan, who so passionately and ardently wished to see his son married, that so long a delay appeared ages to him, had some difficulty in consenting to wait so much longer. He, however, was persuaded by the arguments of the grand vizier, which he could neither contradict nor disapprove.
When the prime minister had retired, the sultan Schahzaman went to the apartment of the mother of prince Camaralzaman, to whom he had long since imparted the ardent desire he had of marrying his son. When he had related to her the painful disappointment he had just met with from his second refusal, and also the indulgence he still intended to grant him by the advice of his grand vizier, he added, “I know, madam, that he has more confidence in you than in me, that you converse with him, and that he listens to you with more familiarity; I entreat you, therefore, to take an opportunity to speak to him seriously on this subject; and to make him sensible, that if he persists in his obstinacy, he will oblige me at last to have recourse to extremities, which I should be sorry to adopt, and which would make him repent of his disobedience.”
Fatima, for this was the name of the prince’s mother, informed Camaralzaman, the first time she had any conversation with him, that she had been acquainted with his fresh refusal to marry, which he had testified to the sultan; and expressed herself much chagrined at his having occasioned his father so great a cause for anger. “Madam,” replied Camaralzaman, “do not, I entreat you, renew my grief on this affair; I fear, that in my present state of mind, I might be guilty of saying something disrespectful to you.” Fatima knew by this answer, that the wound was too recent to continue the subject; she therefore dropped it for the present.
Some time after this, Fatima thought she had met with an opportunity of renewing it, and with more prospect of success in obtaining a hearing. “My son,” said she, “if it be not painful to you, pray tell me what are the reasons that have given you so great an aversion to marriage. If you have none stronger than the art and wickedness of women, believe me, you could not have chosen any more weak or unreasonable. I will not undertake the defence of artful women, for that there are numbers of that description, I am well persuaded; but it is the most flagrant injustice to accuse the whole sex of this crime. Surely my son, you do not form your opinion from the few examples which your books mention, and who have, I confess, occasioned great disorder and confusion in the world; such, I will not attempt to justify; but why, on the other hand, do not you remark also, the many monarchs, sultans, and inferior princes, whose tyranny, barbarity, and cruelty excite the deepest horror in those histories, which I have read as well as yourself. For one woman, who has been guilty of such crimes, you will find a thousand of these barbarians and tyrants. And do you think the poor women who have the misfortune to be married to these wretches, and who are, perhaps, good and prudent wives, can be very happy?”
“Madam,” replied Camaralzaman, “I do not doubt, that there is in the world a great number of prudent, good, and virtuous women, of gentle dispositions and good morals. Would to God they all resembled you! But what deters me is the doubtful choice a man is obliged to make, when marrying; or rather the dread, that he is often deprived of the liberty of making that choice himself.
“Let us suppose,” continued he, “that I had consented to form a matrimonial engagement, as the sultan my father so impatiently wishes; what wife would he give me? a princess, in all probability, whom he would request of some neighbouring prince, and who would, no doubt, think it a great honor. Handsome or ugly, she must be received; but even supposing she excels every other princess in beauty, who can ensure that her mind will be equal to her person? That she will be gentle, obliging, affable, and engaging? that her conversation will not be frivolous; of dress, of ornaments, of appearance, and a thousand other trifles, which must create contempt in a man of good sense? In a word, that she is not proud, haughty, irascible, disdainful, and one who will ruin a whole kingdom by her frivolous expenses in dresses, jewels, trinkets, or in tasteless and empty magnificence.
“Now you see, madam, on one subject only, how many things there are to give rise to my antipathy to matrimony; but even if this princess be so perfect and so accomplished, that she is irreproachable on all these points, I have a great number of reasons still stronger than any I have expressed, to make me continue in the same opinion, and adhere to my resolution.”