Eastern Tales by Many Story Tellers 19 – Anonymous · Verses Across
Literature · Short Stories
Eastern Tales by Many Story Tellers 19The Four Talismans (part 4)
18
Literature · Short Stories
Eastern Tales by Many Story Tellers 19
The Four Talismans (part 4)
AnonymousEnglish
"The ravisher of a wife is a monster in society from which it ought to be freed. The man who indulges himself in this crime is capable of every other.
"Such are the motives of my conduct: severity costs me more than any one else. But I should have been unworthy of the confidence of my people, and wanting in the duties of the throne, had I not exercised it in this situation.
"If I have exceeded the limits of my authority, I am ready to resign it into your hands. Reunited to my wife and my children, and thus loaded with the most precious blessings of the Almighty, I should have nothing left but to wish you happy days under a government wiser than mine."
When Abosaber had finished this justification of his conduct, admiration and respect held the whole assembly in silence. Soon, however, a shout followed by a thousand others resounded through the divan.
"Long live Abosaber! long live our King! long live the patient monarch! may he live for ever! and may his reign endure to eternity!"
The King having returned into his apartment, sent for his wife and his children, and after yielding to the sweet impulses of nature, "Behold," said he to his spouse, "the fruits of patience, and the consequences of rashness. Give up at last your prejudices, and engrave on the hearts of our children these important truths. Good and evil happen under the inspection of Providence, and divine wisdom infallibly bestows the punishment or the reward. The patient man who submits to his lot is sooner or later crowned with honour."
After having ended his story Aladin kept a respectful silence. Bohetzad seemed lost in thought.
"How is it possible," said he, "that the maxims of wisdom should flow from the lips of a man whose heart must be corrupted, and whose soul must be guilty? Young man!" added he, addressing himself to the supposed criminal, "I will still defer your punishment till to-morrow. You are to be carried back to prison. The counsels which you have given me shall have their proper effect. A professed robber ought to be cut off from the class of citizens, from that of the defenders of the kingdom, and from the whole world. But as you have at the same time guarded me against precipitation in judgment, I consent that you may live during the remainder of this day and the following night."
At these words the King dismissed the assembly.
The Viziers took counsel together respecting the step they should take to secure the destruction of the favourite. Perceiving the punishment so often delayed, it was their business to alarm the King respecting the dangerous effects of his clemency, and his weakness in allowing himself to be led away by these discourses, prepared on purpose to suspend an act of justice which was absolutely necessary. He ought to banish from the people every suspicion of weakness on the part of the government, and show them that equity was its foundation.
The artful detail of this reasoning was entrusted to the Fourth Vizier; and this minister came next morning to Bohetzad to perform his part.
The poison of flattery was artfully mingled with remonstrances, which appeared to be dictated by a disinterested zeal, and made a deep impression on the King. He ordered the Superintendent to be brought before him, as formerly, with all the apparatus of punishment. "Unhappy man!" said he to him, "I have reflected enough to punish you for your crime. May your death, if it be possible, make me forget you for ever!"
"Sire," replied Aladin, with respect and firmness, "I receive with submission the sentence of my crime. It is dictated by circumstances; and were it not, I feel that the misery of having fallen under your disgrace would be worse to me. The sacrifice once made, I can repent of it no more. But the day will come, when your Majesty, regretting your unjust precipitation, will repent that you did not sufficiently consult the rules of prudence, as it happened to Bhazad, the son of Cyrus, founder of the Syrian empire."
HISTORY OF BHAZAD THE IMPATIENT.
Bhazad was a Prince possessed of every external accomplishment. His beauty, celebrated by the poets, was become proverbial among all nations. He was the delight of every company, and scarcely anything was noticed in it but himself. One day, while he was unperceived, his beauty became the subject of conversation. After it had been much praised, one who was present, and had till then been silent, added,
"Prince Bhazad is doubtless one of the most beautiful men in the world; but I know a woman who in this respect is much more superior to her own sex than he is to his."
This discourse roused the curiosity of Bhazad more than his pride; and, addressing himself in private to the man who spoke thus:
"Might one know from you," said he to him, "the name of this beauty, in whose praise you have just now spoken?"
"Prince," replied this man, "she is the daughter of one of the most illustrious vassals of the Syrian throne; and if she enchants every eye by her external charms, the virtues of her heart and of her mind contribute still more to make her perfect."
Those few words made a lively impression upon the heart of Bhazad. He could think of nothing but of the object whose praises he had heard, and he endeavoured to make a conquest of her. The love which consumed him injured his health, rendered him thoughtful and solitary; and the King his father, being surprised at this change, upon inquiring of him, was informed of its cause.
Bhazad, after having made a confession of his passion to Cyrus, suffered from him some reproaches for his reserve.
"Why have you concealed from me the state of your heart?" said he to him. "Are you ignorant that I have all power over the Prince whose daughter you are desirous to marry? Are you afraid that he will not accept the honour of our alliance?"
Upon this Cyrus sent in quest of the father of the young beauty, and demanded her for his son. The dowry, which was to be three hundred thousand pieces of gold, was agreed upon at once. But the future father-in-law required that the celebration of the nuptials should be delayed for nine months.
"Nine months without seeing her!" said the impatient Bhazad to himself. "Nine months without her! It is insupportable."
He quickly formed the design of going to her. He mounted the best courser in his stables, and immediately departed, having provided himself with some necessary articles, such as a bow, a lance, and a scimitar. He was not far from the capital of Syria when he was attacked by a band of robbers. His undaunted countenance and his martial air made an impression upon them; and far from endeavouring, according to their usual custom, to murder him after they had robbed him, they proposed to him a very different plan, and promised him his life on condition that he would associate with them. Bhazad thought it necessary to discover to these vagabonds his rank, his projects, and the fatal delay of nine months, which his impatience had been unable to endure. Upon this declaration, the chief of the robbers replied to him,
"We will shorten this delay. We know the castle in which the object of your love dwells, and the strength that defends it. March at our head; we will attack it, and no object shall be able to resist us. All we ask of you for this important service is a share in the dowry, your future protection, and a delay of some days to prepare ourselves for the enterprise."
Bhazad, in his impatience, thought himself already on the very point of happiness. Every method seemed just to him which could serve his passion, and he was by no means delicate in the choice of them. Thus he deliberated no more, but continued his journey at the head of the robbers.
They soon met a numerous caravan, and the robbers, constrained by their natural propensity, attacked it in disorder. They were repulsed, however, with the loss of several men and a considerable number of prisoners, among whom Bhazad was included. He was conducted to the capital of the country to which the caravan was travelling. The commander of it, after relating his adventure, presented Bhazad to the King.
"Here, sire, is a young man who, in our opinion, deserves to be distinguished from the rest, and we beseech your Majesty to dispose of him according to your pleasure."
The countenance of the captive attracted the particular attention of the King.
"Who are you, young man?" inquired the Prince. "You seem not to have been born for the criminal profession you follow. How did you fall into the hands of the caravan?"
Bhazad, lest he should dishonour his respectable name, was unwilling to make himself known.
"Sire," replied he, "my appearance ought not to impose upon your Majesty: I am, and always have been, a professed robber."
"Your answer," said the King, "is your sentence of death. Yet," said he to himself, "I ought to be rash in nothing. Regard must be had to his youth and external qualities, which seem to distinguish him from people of his profession. If this young man is in reality a robber, he deserves punishment; but if he is an unfortunate sport of destiny, who hath sought for death as a deliverance from the sorrows of life, one may become an accomplice in his crime by not preventing his death."
The prudent Sovereign, having made this soliloquy, ordered Bhazad to be shut up in close confinement, expecting some great discovery respecting his rank.
In the meantime the King of Syria, having in quest of his son searched his dominions in vain, addressed circular letters to all the Sovereigns of Asia. One of them came to the King in whose dominion Bhazad was in custody. From the description which it gave of him, he had no doubt that the young adventurer whom he kept in prison was the well-beloved son of the powerful monarch of Syria. What reason had he to applaud himself for not having hurried his judgment!
He sent immediately for the handsome prisoner, and asked his name.
"My name is Bhazad," replied the young man.
"You are the son, then, of King Cyrus. But what motives determined you to conceal your birth? Had I not been slow in the execution of punishment, it would have cost you your life, and me the remorse of having treated you as a vile assassin."
"Sire," replied Bhazad, after having revealed to him the secret of his escape, "finding myself seized among robbers, in whose crimes I had involuntarily shared, I preferred death to shame, and was unwilling to dishonour a name so illustrious."
"Son," replied the sage monarch, "there has been a great deal of imprudence in your behaviour. You were in love, and assured of wedding in a few months the object of your affection. See to what rashness and impatience have brought you. Instead of waiting patiently till you should become the son-in-law of one of your father's noble vassals, after having quitted the Court of Syria without permission, and after having incautiously exposed yourself to be murdered by the robbers who infest these deserts, you joined yourself to these vagabonds to carry off by force the woman who was voluntarily to be given you in marriage. See into what a train of crimes you have drawn yourself. Check this passion and calm your impatience. I will procure you the means of uniting yourself soon to the Princess whose hand you are anxious to obtain. But as everything ought to be done in a manner suitable to her condition and your rank, we will hurry nothing."
After this, the King, having caused Bhazad to be magnificently dressed, appointed him lodgings in his palace, and admitted him to his table. He wrote to Cyrus to set him at ease respecting the fate of his son, whose equipage was getting ready that he might appear with more splendour at the Court of the Prince whose daughter he was about to espouse.
The impatient Bhazad saw these preparations with uneasiness. The attention which was paid to them retarded his happiness. At length, however, the order for his departure was given, and he might begin his journey. A small army escorted him, but every halt which it made appeared an age to this impatient Prince.
Messengers had been dispatched to the father of the Princess, to inform him of the arrival of his son-in-law. He came, with his daughter covered with a veil, to receive him at the gate of his castle, and allotted him a magnificent apartment next to that of his future spouse. All the arrangements had been previously fixed by the two fathers. The term of nine months would have elapsed in three days, and all the preparations suitable to this so much wished-for union were finished.
Bhazad was only separated from the object of his affection by the breadth of a thin wall. In three days he might see her. But this wall was like Mount Ararat to him, and these three days seemed an eternity. As he constantly inquired what she was doing, he learnt that she was at her toilet, assisted by her female slaves, and without her veil. This was the time for him to surprise her and behold her at his pleasure. He presently examined all the openings of his apartment, to find some way of gratifying his impatience and curiosity. He discovered, to his misfortune, a small grated window, to which he applied his eye. But an eunuch, placed there on guard, perceived the inquisitive man, and, without knowing him, struck him with the point of his scimitar, which at once ran through both his eyes, and drew from him a piercing cry, which soon collected around him all those engaged in his service.
They stood around the wounded, inquiring the cause which could have reduced him to the unhappy situation he was in. His misfortune discovered to him his crime.
"It was my impatience," replied he, with sorrow. "I have too soon forgotten the sage counsels of the King my benefactor. In three days I would have seen her who was to crown my happiness; but I was unable to bear this delay with patience. I wished to enjoy beforehand the pleasure of seeing her, and for this I am punished with the loss of my sight."
"In this manner," added Aladin, "did the impatient Bhazad, on the very point of becoming happy, lose that hope for ever, and was condemned to the most cruel loss in being deprived of the sense of sight. He ought to have recollected the dangers to which his former imprudence had exposed him; with what maturity of deliberation, with what wise delay, the monarch to whom he was indebted for his fortune and life had conducted himself with respect to him, and he ought to have yielded entirely to his advice. But it is not from acting without reflection that experience is acquired, and the wise alone can profit by that of others."
The young Superintendent, having made an end of speaking, Bohetzad, drowned in thought, dismissed the assembly, and remanded the criminal to prison.
The ten Viziers, afraid lest their victim should escape, assembled again next day, and sent three of their number in a deputation to the King to strike the last blow against the young Aladin. They assured Bohetzad that the dangerous consequences of his clemency were already felt.
"Every day," said they, "ordinary justice is engaged in checking the audacious crimes of your subjects against the sanctity of the harem. Prevaricating criminals have the boldness to defend themselves by the example that is before their eyes; and the delays which arise from your Majesty in this affair are so many pretences which they allege in their justification. We conjure you, sire, to put an end to this disorder, which your ministers will soon be unable to restrain."
Bohetzad, ashamed of his too great indulgence, caused the
Superintendent to be brought before him.
"Thou appearest at length," said he to him, "for the last time, on the scaffold, which thou art about to stain with thy blood. The crime which thou hast committed allows me no rest. The too long suspension of the sword of the law draws along with it an example fatal to my subjects. Every voice is united against thee, and not one justifies thee."
"Men pursue me," interrupted the undaunted Aladin. "I am the object of hatred and slander; but, if the Eternal and His Prophet are for me, I have nothing in this world to fear. Heaven protects my innocence, and the sword cannot deprive me of it. It will always shine upon my forehead, even when it shall be separated from my body. My confidence is in God. I expect everything from Him, as King Bazmant at length did after the reverses he experienced."
HISTORY OF BAZMANT, OR THE CONFIDENT.
This Sovereign, too much addicted to the pleasures of the table, was giving himself up one day to the immoderate enjoyment of a sumptuous feast, when his Vizier came to inform him that the enemy was coming to besiege his capital.
"Have not I," replied he, "excellent generals and good troops? Let them take care of everything, and beware of disturbing my pleasures."
"I will obey, sire," replied the Vizier; "but remember that the Almighty disposes of thrones, and that if you invoke not His aid, your riches and power will not support you or yours."
Disregarding this wise counsel, Bazmant fell asleep in the arms of sensuality; and when he awoke was obliged to take to flight: notwithstanding the bravery of his soldiers, the enemy had become masters of the city.
The fugitive King withdrew to one of his allies, his father-in-law and friend, who granted him a powerful army, with which he hoped in a short time to re-enter his dominions and take vengeance on his enemy. Full of confidence in this assistance, he marched at the head of his troops, and advanced towards the capital which he had lost. But victory again declared in favour of the usurper. His army was routed, and he himself owed his safety to the swiftness and vigour of his horse, which, pursued by the enemy, crossed an arm of the sea which lay in his way, and soon landed him on the opposite shore.
Not far from the shore was situated a fortified city called Kerassin, at that time under the dominion of King Abadid. Bazmant went to it, and demanded an asylum in the hospital destined for the reception of poor strangers. He learned that King Abadid resided in Medinet-Ilahid, the capital of the kingdom. He took the road to it, arrived there, and demanded an audience of the Sovereign, which was immediately granted. His external appearance prejudiced the monarch in his favour, and he asked him concerning his rank, his country, and the motives which had brought him to Medinet-Ilahid.
"I was," replied he, "a distinguished officer in the Court of King Bazmant, to whom I was much attached. This unfortunate Prince has been driven from his kingdom, and as it became necessary for me to choose a master, I am come to make a voluntary offer of my person and services to your Majesty."
Abadid, full of prudence and penetration, conceived a favourable opinion of the stranger. He loaded him with presents, and assigned him a distinguished rank among his officers. Bazmant might have been proud of his new situation could he have banished from his memory the fortune he had once enjoyed, and had he not been still wholly occupied with the loss of his kingdom.
A neighbouring power at that time threatened Abadid with an invasion of his dominions. The Sovereign put himself in a posture of defence, and took every necessary precaution to repel his enemy. He himself took arms, and left his capital at the head of a formidable army. Bazmant had the chief command of the van.
The battle was soon begun, during which Abadid and Bazmant conducted themselves like experienced chiefs, and were distinguished by remarkable feats of courage and intrepidity. The enemy was entirely defeated and repulsed. Bazmant extolled to the skies the mighty deeds and wise plans of Abadid.
"Sire," said he to him, "with an army so well disciplined and so much good conduct you might easily humble the most formidable nations."
"You are mistaken," replied the wise monarch; "without the assistance of Allah I could not resist the most feeble atoms in the creation. It is by trusting in Him alone that we have the power of posting our troops to advantage, of directing our plans with wisdom, and of preserving that presence of mind which is the guide of all our operations. If I had not had recourse to Him, the greatest force would have vanished in my hands."
"I am convinced of it," replied Bazmant, "and the misfortunes which I have experienced are a proof of it. A false prudence induced me to conceal my name and my misfortunes. But your virtues forcibly draw the secret from me. You see before you the unhappy Bazmant, whom too much confidence in his own troops could not preserve upon the throne."
Upon this confession, Abadid, seized with astonishment, wished to make an apology to Bazmant for the reception he had given him.
"How could you know me," replied the dethroned Prince, "since shame and confusion obliged me to be silent? Could you read upon my forehead a character which the justice of Heaven had effaced? Great King," added he, embracing him, "I owe to your generosity a full account of my faults: lend me your attention."
At these words Bazmant related his history.
"My dear brother," said Abadid to him, after having heard it, "cease to humble yourself before a man brought up in your very principles, and corrected at last by a series of misfortunes similar to yours. I have not been wiser than you. It appears that we must be instructed by misery! Formerly I put my confidence in my troops and my own abilities, and at the head of a numerous army I was conquered by an enemy who had nothing to oppose me but a handful of men. Forced to take to flight, I retired to the mountains, with fifty men who would not abandon me. Providence caused me to fall in with a dervish in his hermitage, where he was wholly devoted to the exercise and duties of religion. He showed me the cause of my misfortunes, and told me that the enemy had put his trust in Allah alone, and was thus enabled to strike me with unerring blows; while I, depending upon the effort of my spear and the thickness of my battalions, and full of audacious pride, neglected my duty, and gave no order which did not lead to an error. 'Put,' said he to me, 'your confidence in Him who directs everything here below, and if His arm is engaged in your behalf, fifty men will be sufficient to regain your kingdom.' These discourses of the sage made a strong impression upon me. I raised my eyes on high, and, full of a salutary confidence, I returned to my capital. Prosperity had blinded my enemy. He had forgotten in the lap of pleasure the wise maxims to which he was indebted for his victory. Everything seemed quiet in his dominions. He believed himself secure in the possession of them, and neglected the maintenance of an army. I arrived unawares at the beginning of the night. I hastened to the palace with my small party, which curiosity, however, increased. It became a formidable army within the palace: dismay and terror marched in its train. The usurper had only just time to make his escape and avoid the danger which surrounded him. And the next day beheld me re-established on my throne, and in the undisturbed possession of my kingdom."
The recital of Abadid's adventures completely changed the opinions of Bazmant.
"You have," said the Prince to him, "inspired me with a confidence equal to that which animated you, and henceforward I will place it nowhere else. God alone and His great Prophet are able to restore me my crown; and in order to regain it, I will follow the same method that you did."
At these words he took leave of Abadid, and hastened into a desert, through which he was obliged to pass in order to reach his dominions. Guided by the confidence which he had placed in the Sovereign Ruler of men, and imploring His support by prayer, he gained the summit of a mountain. He was oppressed with fatigue, and, having fallen asleep, he saw a vision in a dream.
He thought he heard a voice say to him, "Bazmant, Allah has heard thy prayers: He accepts thy penitence, and thou mayest march without fear whither thou intendest."
The Prince believed he had heard his guardian angel, and hastened his journey towards the capital of his kingdom. Scarcely had he reached the frontiers, when he met a party of those who had been most faithful to him. They lived under a tent, ready to seek another asylum on the least instance of tyranny in the usurper. Without making himself known, he entered into conversation, and told them that he was travelling to the capital. They endeavoured to divert him from his design. They described the avenues to the city as extremely dangerous. They told him that suspicion and fear were upon the throne; that strangers who approached it were believed to be emissaries of Bazmant, and were, without distinction, beheaded by order of the tyrant.
"He causes the former King to be regretted, then?" inquired the Prince, certain that they could not know him.
"Alas!" replied they, "would indeed that our worthy monarch were here! He would find a safe asylum in the hearts of all his subjects, and a hundred thousand arms to avenge him. The monster who has dethroned him, confiding in his forces, sacrifices everything to his unbridled desires, and frees himself by the sword of his slightest alarms."
"He is in the wrong," replied Bazmant, "to trust wholly in his army: the true support of Kings is the favour of Heaven. As for me, who have come here with no other intention than to acquire knowledge by travelling, knowing that no one can injure me while I have the divine protection, I will, without fear, approach the place which the vain precautions of your master have caused to be looked upon as so dangerous."
"We conjure you not to do this," replied these worthy people, in a feeling tone: "do not give us another misfortune to bewail. Since you are a good Mussulman, wait patiently till the divine justice shall have struck this tyrant: the time is not far distant, for the measure of his iniquity is full. And should the arm of man delay to strike, the pillars of his palace will fall upon him."
At these words, Bazmant felt his hopes revive. He laid aside all disguise, and declared that he was the monarch whom they wished to return. At that instant his faithful subjects, exiled on his account, fell at his feet. They kissed his hands and moistened them with their tears. A part of the knights who were there devoted themselves as his life-guard. The rest spread all around to announce his happy return, and appoint a place of rendezvous. A formidable army was soon in a condition to advance to the capital, the tyrant was overthrown, and Bazmant resumed the reins of government and power amidst the acclamations of all his people.
At the end of this history, Aladin ventured to add some reflections of his own.
"You see," said he to Bohetzad, "how Bazmant reascended his throne, without any other assistance than that of Heaven. My true throne, sire, is my innocence; and, as if inspired from above, I have a fixed belief that I will yet be re-established on it, and triumph over mine enemies."
As the young minister mingled sage truths with the recital of his stories, the Sovereign, who had listened to him, felt his anger relent.
He again ordered the punishment to be deferred, and the criminal was carried back to prison.
The Viziers again resolved to diffuse in the mind of the King the poison of those perfidious insinuations which had hitherto been so unsuccessful.
One of them accordingly arrived well prepared. He brought with him seditious libels and a list of disorders which, he said, the violation of a law that was refused to be put in execution had occasioned, in leaving unpunished a crime which appeared in so obvious a manner.
These reports, which seemed to be dictated by disinterestedness and fidelity, again inflamed Bohetzad. He resumed his first resolutions, and sent for the criminal to his presence.
"I have hesitated too long," said he. "Thy death is essential to the safety of my kingdom, and thou canst no more hope either for delay or mercy."
"Sire," said Aladin, "every fault deserves pardon. I have committed one in indulging myself in a drink which I did not know, and which deprived me, for a moment, of reason. But I have a right to obtain your Majesty's pardon. I am incapable of the crime of which I am accused. Sovereigns, sire, have a noble right which they derive from Heaven: it is that of exercising mercy when it is proper. Let us suppose that, after a little delay and deliberate examination, you had snatched an innocent person from punishment, would not your Majesty have done an action something like that of raising him from the dead? An action may often appear agreeable to strict justice, while in reality it is only the effect of lawless tyranny. And what glory is there not, even in pardoning an offence? He who is capable of mercy will, like Baharkan, sooner or later receive his reward."
Aladin, perceiving Bohetzad inclined to listen to him, proceeded thus in the explanation of what he had advanced:
HISTORY OF BAHARKAN.
Baharkan was an intemperate Prince. He sacrificed everything to his passions, and, in order to gratify them, he boldly plunged into the greatest excess of tyranny. He never pardoned even the appearance of a crime: so that involuntary faults were punished no less than avowed transgressions.
Being one day at the chase, one of his officers inadvertently discharged from his bow an arrow which he was holding prepared. It struck the ear of the King, and unfortunately carried it off. Baharkan, in his fury, ordered the offender to be brought before him, and his head to be struck off. As soon as the unhappy young man was in his presence, having heard the sentence of death pronounced by the monarch, he spoke to him thus:
"Sire, the fault I have committed was unpremeditated on my part; it was the effect of the fatality of the stars. I throw myself on your clemency. I implore your pardon. It will be meritorious in the sight of God and approved of by men. In the name of the heavenly Power which hath put the sceptre into your hands, I entreat for pardon, and your Majesty will one day receive your reward."
This prayer softened the unrelenting heart of the King, and, contrary to the general expectation, the young officer obtained his pardon.
His name was Tirkan. He was a Prince who had fled from his father's Court in order to escape the punishment of a fault which he had committed. After having wandered unknown from kingdom to kingdom, he at length settled at the Court of Baharkan, where he obtained employment. He remained there for some time after the accident which had befallen him; but his father, having discovered the place of his retreat, sent him his pardon, and advised him to return to him. He did this in such affectionate and paternal terms that Tirkan, trusting in his father's goodness, immediately departed. His hopes were not deceived, and he was re-established in all his rights.
King Baharkan, desiring one day to amuse himself with pearl-fishing, embarked in a vessel with a design to coast along the shores of his kingdom in search of pearls. An unexpected storm drove the ship into the open sea. It became the sport of the winds and the waves, and, stripped of all its rigging, ran aground on an unknown shore, and was dashed to pieces against the rocks which surrounded it. The whole crew perished. Baharkan alone was saved from shipwreck by a plank which he had had the good fortune to seize. Fortunately, he landed on the dominions of the monarch whose son had shot away his ear, and whom he had pardoned.
Night began to descend when Baharkan landed. He wanted neither courage nor vigour, and therefore took the first road that presented itself, which led to a large fortified city. But, as the gates had just been shut, he was forced to wait without till next day, and to pass the night in a neighbouring churchyard.
Day began to appear, and the gates were opened. The first persons who came from the city found, at the gate of the churchyard, a man who had been murdered. Baharkan was coming out of it at the same time. The efforts he had made in the evening to reach the coast with his plank had given him some slight wounds, from which the blood was still trickling. This proof appeared sufficient in the eyes of the bystanders: he was taken for the murderer, and carried to prison.
There this unfortunate Prince, left to his own reflections, thus communed with himself: "Heaven chastises thee, Baharkan. Thou wast cruel, vindictive, and inexorable. With thee humanity had no value. Thou sacrificedst thy brethren on the slightest suspicion. Behold thyself now on a level with the vilest of mortals. Thou hast met with no more than thy desert."
As he rendered this terrible justice to himself, he perceived in the air a vulture, which hovered above the prison in the court of which he was walking. He instinctively took a flint, and threw it with great force at the bird, which avoided the stroke; but, in falling, the stone accidentally struck the same Prince Tirkan who formerly had carried off his ear by the stroke of an arrow. It wounded him exactly on the ear, but not so severely as Baharkan had been. Pain forced a cry from the young Prince, which brought all his courtiers around him. Surgeons were sent for, who soon cured this slight wound.
The King ordered a search to be made, in order to discover the person who had thrown the stone. Baharkan was accused by his fellow-prisoners of picking up and throwing it. He was brought before the monarch, who condemned him to lose his head, since, besides this, he believed him to be the murderer of the man who had been assassinated near the churchyard. The executioner of justice had already taken off the turban which covered him, and was drawing the sword from its scabbard, when the King, examining attentively the head which had just been uncovered, perceived that it wanted an ear.
"It appears," said he to the criminal, "that this is not your first offence. For what crime have you been already condemned to lose an ear?"
Baharkan, having assumed a manly spirit since his misfortunes, replied, with boldness, "Sire, if I have committed crimes, I owe no account of them but to Heaven; and till it should have determined to punish me, human justice had no right to inflict it. I have been, in one word, your equal--I was a King. The ear which I want was unfortunately carried off by an arrow, which escaped from the bow of one of my officers, whose name was Tirkan. Impelled by the first emotion of anger, I condemned him to death. He besought my pardon, and obtained it. My name is Baharkan."
Tirkan, without giving him time to finish, had already thrown himself into his arms. He recognized at once his ancient master and his deliverer. Baharkan, far from being punished, was treated as a King, and an unfortunate one. He related the adventure which had landed him in the dominions of Tirkan's father. The latter communicated to him his own, and especially the unfortunate accident which had wounded Baharkan.
"Recollect, sire," added he, "that in soliciting a pardon, I ventured to promise you, from Heaven, the same favour which I expected from you. Here you have received it, under the very same circumstances, through the instrumentality of my father."
After these discoveries, the two Sovereigns embraced each other, with marks of esteem and kindness. A short time after, Baharkan returned to his kingdom in a fleet well equipped, and at the head of an army of fifty thousand fighting men, commanded by Prince Tirkan.
"In this manner," added Aladin, "Baharkan was rewarded for suffering himself to be softened when he was personally offended. Heaven did not confine its blessings to his receiving the same treatment in a similar situation and restoring him to his subjects, it moreover granted to him every virtue requisite in a good King; and in governing his subjects, it enabled him always to govern himself."
Bohetzad, shaken in his resolution by this discourse, ordered the instruments of death to be again removed, and the minister to be conducted back to prison. He even pronounced these last words so hesitatingly, that the Viziers, who observed it, were alarmed.
The whole conspiracy formed against Aladin awoke with still greater force, and it was determined that the ten Viziers should go in a body to the King. Their danger would become so great, if Aladin should succeed in justifying himself, that every step should be taken to destroy him.
The next day they all repaired to the palace, and he who was possessed of the warmest eloquence spoke. If the monarch would believe it, the wicked story-teller, whose talents were so specious, was indebted for his success to the art of magic, in which he was well skilled. But he ought to distrust an illusion which exposes at once the laws, religion, morals, the honour of the throne, and the public welfare; and unless he punished this crime, it would be impossible to check disorder. All the other Viziers supported this insidious harangue. Each of them alleged his own disinterestedness, his zeal, and his fidelity.
"Unbridled audacity is in him united with matchless cunning," they said. "Everything is in danger if this offence remains unpunished."
Bohetzad could not resist the unanimous voice of so many counsellors. His anger re-awoke, and he ordered the criminal to be brought forth.
Aladin appeared in chains, and the King, perceiving him, exclaimed,
"Let the head of this unhappy man be struck off."
The ten Viziers hastened to seize the sword of the executioner, in order to dispute with him the execution of his office. This motion gave Aladin time to speak.
"Behold, sire, the eagerness of your Viziers to bathe themselves in the blood of innocence. Justice pursues the crime, but does not rush upon the criminal. Zeal, like every other virtue, should be moderated. Stop, eager and wicked men! I am here under the justice of the King, not under yours. You have no power over my life. It is sacred with respect to you, who are neither judges nor executioners. Speak! Show yourselves openly as you really are. I have offended you by checking your rapine. You are my enemies and base slanderers."
"You recriminate upon my Viziers," interrupted the King; "truth which flows from their mouths confounds you."
"Nothing from them can confound me," replied Aladin; "not even the blackness of their calumny. It is coeval with their existence. But for these, who have reduced me to the necessity of this defence, I must question them in my turn. They are all here, and let them answer. Does not the law require that every accuser or deponent should have been a witness of the crime? Their evidence is therefore objectionable in this case; the law rejects it. It is only the effect of envy and jealous rage by which they are devoured. Look at them, sire, and at me. The sword is above my head, yet I dare raise it up, while their eyes shun both yours and mine. Heaven supports me and condemns them; our sentence is written on our countenance. O great King! deserving of better ministers, beware of being drawn into the guilty plot they have contrived for you. One may, but without passion, bear testimony against the accused. If he is convicted, justice condemns him. But the judge, in describing the crime and pronouncing sentence, never forgets the duty due to the creature of God on whom the punishment is about to fall. Here I see nothing but fury and jealous rage. They are devoured by their thirst for blood, and equity is not the basis of their judgments. All the injurious imputations which have been levelled against me vanish. An invisible hand imprints on my forehead the serenity of innocence. An inward sentiment tells me that, having lived free from crimes, I shall not be confounded with the guilty. Unhappy is the man whose conscience gives a contrary testimony. He endeavours in vain to shun the stroke that threatens him. The history of the Sultan Hebraim and of his son is a proof of this."
Bohetzad, struck with astonishment at the intrepid firmness of Aladin and the united rage of his ministers, wished to hear the adventures of Hebraim; and the Superintendent, having obtained permission to relate them, thus began:
HISTORY OF THE SULTAN HEBRAIM AND HIS SONS, OR THE PREDESTINATED.
The Sultan Hebraim, called by his birth to the government of extensive dominions, had enlarged them considerably by the success of his arms. But the want of an heir disturbed the enjoyment of his glory. At length, however, a son was born, whose birth was celebrated by public rejoicings and feasts, which, during forty days, announced to the people the happiness of the Sovereign.
This time was employed in a very different manner by the astrologers who were employed to cast the infant's nativity. They could not conceal from the Sultan that an evil star had presided at the birth of his son. The orbit of his planet, black and stained with blood, announced misfortunes, which it would be difficult to resist. They unanimously declared that before he was seven years old, the infant would be exposed to the devouring jaws of a tiger; and that if he could escape the fury of that animal during this determinate space of time, his hand would become fatal to the author of his existence; and that there was no other way by which he could escape the evils that threatened him but by becoming, from the effects of education, an enlightened, wise, and virtuous Prince.
The annunciation of so mournful a prediction dissipated the joy of Hebraim, and the days of public happiness were spent by him in tears and in grief. Nevertheless, as hope never forsakes the unfortunate, he flattered himself, and was happy to think, that it was possible to screen the heir of his power from the decrees of fate. It did not appear to him impossible to protect his son from the attacks of the tiger during the appointed term of seven years; and after having snatched him from the first decree of destiny, he might, by carefully watching over his education, beget in him sentiments of wisdom and the love of virtue, and thus disprove the prediction of the astrologers.
After these reflections, the Sultan prepared a retreat on the summit of a mountain, in which he hoped that his son would be safe from the attacks of the tiger for the seven years determined by fate. A number of workmen were employed in forming in the rock a cavity of a hundred feet in depth, about a hundred and fifty in length, and thirty in breadth. They let down into this every material necessary to make a commodious lodging; a spring of water was found there, and they contrived a passage for it, as well as for the rain-water which might be collected in this cavity. They carried earth to it, and put plants there, which were soon in a thriving condition.
After having furnished this little palace in a proper manner, they let down into it the Prince and his nurse by the help of a pulley, together with every necessary article for a month. At the end of every moon Hebraim came regularly to visit his son. The nurse laid the child in a basket made of bulrushes, which was lifted up to the very brim of the entrance; and while the father yielded to the sweetest emotions of nature in caressing his son, a numerous guard, by the thundering sound of their instruments, kept the wild beasts at a distance. When the visit was over the provisions were renewed, and the cord, rolling upon the pulley, gently returned to the bottom of the cave the basket and the infant.
The young Prince grew and prospered in this solitary habitation, which a very strong vegetation had adorned with trees and shrubs of every kind. The fatal term marked out by the astrologers had almost elapsed. Only twenty days were wanting to fulfil the seven years, when a troop of unknown hunters, in vigorous pursuit of an enormous tiger which they had already wounded, came to the summit of the mountain in full view of their prey. The furious animal, terrified by their shouts, and struck by arrows which were shot at it from every quarter, found this cavity in its course, and either blinded by terror or being now in despair, immediately sprang down it. It fell upon a tree, which, bending under its weight, considerably broke the force of a fall which would have dashed it to pieces on the bottom of this pit.
The terrified nurse endeavoured to conceal herself, and the monster found the child, which it grievously wounded on the shoulder. On hearing the cries of the infant, however, the nurse, forgetting her own danger, flew to his assistance. The tiger darted at her, and having torn her in pieces, was about to devour her, when the huntsmen, coming suddenly up to the brink of the precipice, discharged at once a shower of arrows upon the voracious animal. His body was full of them, the blood gushed from every part of it, and an enormous stone thrown at his head killed him on the spot.
After this exploit the huntsmen, anxious to discover the child whose cries resounded in this frightful habitation, eagerly descended into it. But what was their astonishment when they found there at the side of a dead woman a beautiful infant, richly dressed, and swimming in the blood of the wounds it had received! Their first care was to assist the innocent creature, which still breathed. They bathed its wounds, and wrapped them up with healing herbs. As soon as the infant appeared more calm, they buried the nurse and examined this strange retreat. The furniture of this small habitation appeared extremely rich, and a quantity of provisions was found there, which seemed to have come down from heaven. The huntsmen took possession of everything by the right of conquest, and sought how they might take out of this dungeon everything it concealed.
The basket of bulrushes was first employed in drawing up the young child out of this habitation, and next all the effects, the furniture, and the provisions, were raised by means of the pulley which was fixed at the top of the cave. When everything was out a division was made. The chief of the troop took possession of the infant, in whose preservation he felt himself strongly interested, and carried it with him to his own house.
The only son of the Sultan Hebraim had fallen into good hands. His benefactor was a man of distinction, wealthy, and without a fault but that of an unlimited passion for the chase. Struck with the beauty and the sweetness of his young charge, he paid the greatest attention to him. And when he found him capable of answering his questions, he endeavoured to learn from him who he was, and for what reason he had been made to dwell in so extraordinary a habitation.
"I know not," replied the child. "I lived with the woman whom you found dead; she gave me everything I wanted. From time to time a man, much bigger than you, came and stood at the top of the dwelling where you found me. I was put into a basket and drawn up to him. He caressed me very much, and called me his dear child. I called the woman Nurse, and she likewise said I was her dear child. I know nothing more."
The benefactor could not conclude, from this simple declaration, anything else than that this child owed its birth to parents of an illustrious rank, but he could not discover the very extraordinary reason which had forced them to conceal its existence by a method still more extraordinary. Expecting that time would unravel this mystery, he paid every attention to the boy's education, had him instructed in the sciences, and trained up in exercises suitable to the most illustrious descent.
The young disciple early answered the hopes of his friend. He excelled particularly in the art of horsemanship, handled every sort of weapon with dexterity, and in general acquired all the knowledge necessary for the most resolute warrior or hunter.
One day, as they were both hotly engaged in the pursuit of some tigers, they were suddenly surrounded by a band of robbers. Abaquir (for that was the young man's name) displayed, as well as his master, prodigious feats of valour. But, overpowered by numbers, they were both plundered. The protector of Abaquir lost his life, and he himself received some slight wounds; but the faintness which succeeded was more the effect of fatigue than of blows. As soon as the robbers had disappeared he came to himself, and being naturally courageous, he attempted, though deprived of every aid, to cross the desert, in order to reach some inhabited place, having nothing for his defence but a hunter's javelin, which had been left on the field of battle.
He had travelled but a few hours when he perceived in the plain a man in the habit of a dervish. He made haste to join him, to address and salute him. The dervish prevented him by beginning the conversation himself.
"Beautiful young man," said he to him, "you are naked and wounded. Who hath reduced you to the distressed situation in which I see you?" Abaquir did not hesitate to relate his adventure to this man, whom he took for some holy person, and confidently asked from him some food and clothing.
"One ought," replied the dervish, "to know what it is to strip himself in order to clothe his brother, and to share with him his food in order to preserve him."
At the same time he covered the young man with his cloak, made him sit down, and drew from a sort of wallet some dates, bread baked with the milk of a camel, and a bottle of the skin of a goat, containing five or six pints of water.
"Hold," said he, "you shall have the repast of a penitent. I carry these with me to supply my own wants and those of others; but we will go to my cave, and there you will find both repose and plenty."
Abaquir, before he began to eat, returned thanks to the holy Prophet for so seasonable a relief. When the first calls of hunger were satisfied, the dervish prevailed upon him to go with him to his cell, which was at no great distance.
Abaquir was received therewith every mark of benevolent charity. His wounds were washed and dressed, and the most nourishing food was set before him. In this wild habitation the tables and chairs were nothing but stones rudely thrown together, and the beds were made of heaps of moss; but it was very well for Abaquir, who had been reduced to the want of everything. Besides, the attention of his landlord supplied the want of conveniences in this retreat. The young man conceived the highest idea of the profession of a dervish, from its inspiring sentiments so humane.
"My dear child," said the disguised person to him, "I take pleasure in bestowing care on you; do not place all to the account of religion. You inspire me with a strong interest, and if you wish to go away from me, you must at least tarry till you are perfectly recovered of your wounds, for the passage from this desert is extremely difficult."
Although the young man could not but show himself grateful for so much attention, yet it did not appear uncommon to him. Accustomed to the tender caresses of his nurse, to those of his father, and of his generous benefactor who had since directed his education, the attentions of the pretended dervish seemed to him affectionate and natural. The latter, by degrees, came to know all the adventures of Abaquir, and appeared to take in him an interest always more marked.
"Either I am much deceived, child," said the recluse, "or I perceive that you are reserved for very high fates, and I devote myself to become your conductor in this fortunate career. I will restore to you this father who took so much pleasure in lavishing his caresses upon you."
"Ah! if you can," replied Abaquir, "conduct me to him immediately."
"In your present condition? No, my child, you are unacquainted with mankind. Nature speaks not with the great in favour of a stranger covered with the old cloak of a dervish. Before you could obtain a hearing, you would experience the treatment reserved for an impostor, and there would be a number of interested people ready to forbid you all access. But at present you are with a man who loves you, and whose resources are inexhaustible. A disgust at the riches and vanities of the world made me form the resolution of retiring from it. But to-morrow, if I choose, I can have more of them in my possession than would satisfy the ambition of the most wealthy potentates on earth. I can show you part of them. The earth conceals treasures which I can force her to give up. Not far from this there is great abundance of them, and I will conduct you thither. You shall take what may be necessary to carry you to your father's Court, preceded by a hundred camels, loaded with the richest stuffs of the East, and each of them led by a slave. You shall be surrounded by a guard, which will secure you respect wherever you pass."
Abaquir was lost in admiration. He could not imagine that these magnificent promises were real when he looked upon the coarse cloak with which he was covered, the furniture, and the fantastic utensils of his landlord. The latter, after having been some moments lost in reflection, thus resumed his speech:
"O my child, never let appearances deceive you! The more you advance in years, the more you will learn to distrust its illusions. I am a dervish by inclination, but all the garments I wear are not mean. Here is one which becomes none but brave and powerful men." At the same time the pretended dervish opened his cassock, and discovered a girdle of red, yellow, and green silk.
"Take courage, young man," continued he: "to-morrow I will show you great things. Our attention shall be engaged about your fortune. I shall be able, without being obliged to go far, to find out this singular cave in which you were brought up. I shall know the architect; and in a month, after having finished all our preparations, we will depart for your father's Court, with a train of attendants that will force everybody to welcome us."
The discovery of this girdle under rags had struck Abaquir with astonishment. He depended upon the promises of his new protector, and accepted his offers.
