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.
"But," continued this extraordinary man, "as soon as you shall be at your father's house, and, notwithstanding the pain which our separation will cost you, I shall require your permission to return to my solitary manner of life."
"Willingly," replied Abaquir; "but you will not prevent me from conducting you thither."
On the morning of the next day the dervish made the young man take a basket with provisions for breakfast, and a parcel of ropes, and they went together to the bottom of a steep mountain. When they had arrived there, the companion of Abaquir encouraged him to exert new strength.
"You may," said he, "suffer a little fatigue, but reflecting that you are to reap the fruit of it, you must redouble your courage. Be not astonished at what you are about to see. This mountain contains in its bosom a treasure which cannot be estimated. These riches are abandoned to magi, like me; but we despise using them for ourselves. Do not spend your time in gathering gold, which you will find here in great quantity: take nothing but precious stones. This is the best method of enriching yourself speedily."
After this advice, the dervish threw off his cloak, and appeared as a magician. He was covered only with his large particoloured girdle which adorned his breast. He took from a purse which hung from his girdle an instrument for striking fire, and, having lighted a taper, he burnt perfumes, and running over a book, he pronounced with a loud voice a magical charm. Scarcely had he finished when the earth shook under his feet, opened before him, and discovered a square stone of marble, upon the middle of which the magician immediately scattered perfumes. When he thought the air sufficiently purified and refreshed with them, he girded Abaquir with a rope under his arms, put a taper in his hand, and let him down into the opening.
As soon as Abaquir had got into it, his eyes were dazzled by the splendour of the riches with which he was surrounded. But, faithful to the advice of the magician, he picked up only precious stones, with which he filled the basket which his guide had let down to him by a cord. When it was full and lifted out of the pit, the magician took it; and at that moment a dreadful noise was heard, the fatal trap was shut, and the young Abaquir found himself swallowed up in the bowels of the earth, without any hope of ever getting out.
He believed he was betrayed by the magician, and, without great vigour of mind, would have abandoned himself to despair. But, after having shed some tears, he retraced in his memory the events of his former life. Threatened in his early infancy with becoming the prey of a tiger, Providence had protected him from danger. Attacked afterwards by robbers, the same protection had saved him. "The arm which hath defended me," said he, "will not cease to do so still. I am innocent and betrayed." In this confidence he prostrated himself before Him who has the keys of the deep, and rested with confidence in His assistance.
By the light of the candle, which was still burning, he examined the immense cave which served him as a prison. He thought he perceived at the bottom a passage, the path of which could not be followed without stooping. He approached it with his light, but there came from it so strong a wind that it was instantly extinguished. Far from lessening his hopes, this accident increased them. So violent a wind announced to him a passage outward. He entered it with great difficulty, and almost creeping in the darkness. As he advanced he heard a hollow noise, the murmur of which presaged to him some singular event. He soon perceived that he dipped his hands and his knees in a spring of running water. He raised his head, and finding that he could take some rest, he sat down upon a stone which he had met with, amid the murmurs of many other streams which flowed from these deep caves. He filled the hollow of his hand with the water, which was fresh and delicious. He drank of it, and after having recruited his strength, he continued this fatiguing journey. But these little streams, which thus far had only run upon the ground, had here hollowed out a bed for themselves. He was obliged to enter it, and the farther he advanced the more the danger increased, till at last he began to swim. The darkness around him at length began to be dissipated. The cavern grew wider and higher, and admitted a feeble ray of light, which seemed to announce that the outlet was near. The strength of the swimmer increased with his hopes; and he soon found himself under the vault of heaven, at the moment when the sun was ceasing to adorn it, and the goddess of the night was succeeding to her task.
Abaquir might now repose without fear, and his strength was exhausted. He laid himself upon the ground, and, overcome with fatigue, soon fell asleep. He had but few of the wet clothes which he had received from the magician to put off, for the rubbing of the flints had carried away part of them, and the remainder were but shreds.
The singing of birds announced the return of morning, and the first rays of the sun awakened Abaquir. The young Prince, on opening his eyes, recollected the dangers from which he had just escaped. He retraced the most trifling circumstances of them in his memory. He thought he remembered to have seen, in the frightful cavern he had traversed, the carcasses of many who had fallen victims to the avarice of the wicked magician. This remembrance filled his soul with terror and dismay; but, at the same time, he felt the value of the blessings of the Almighty hand, which had miraculously rescued him from this tomb. His eyes, raised to heaven and swimming in tears, expressed his gratitude, while his lips celebrated the praises of the Almighty and of His Prophet.
These first duties being fulfilled, it became necessary to appease the hunger which preyed upon him. In running round the borders of a small lake where he was, he perceived some reeds, of which he sucked the stalks, and chewed the roots with his teeth. He dug up the earth all around, which furnished him such supplies as his urgent need required. By the help of care and patience he at last regained strength, and with it, courage. He then took up some shreds of his clothes, already dried by the sun, and fixed them to a girdle made of the leaves of reeds; and by searching carefully he found a stick, which served him at once for support and defence. He arrived, after much fatigue, upon a little plain, from whence he discovered a neighbouring city, to which he directed his steps by the first road that presented itself.
As soon as he was perceived by the inhabitants, one of them ran to meet him, and appeared eager to lavish upon him the assistance of which his external appearance showed he had need. He obliged him to take an asylum in his house, where he was received with kindness; the recital of his adventures was listened to with feeling, and he found friends in his misfortunes.
And now, without feeling a moment's uneasiness concerning the fate of this young Prince, let us return to the Sultan Hebraim, his father, much more afflicted than he by the accomplishment of the mournful prediction.
The second day after the defeat of the tiger was the term assigned by the astrologers. The Sultan, thinking to reap at length the fruit of his cares and prudence, appeared at the top of the opening, and announced his arrival as usual by the sound of a horn. But nobody having answered his first signal, Hebraim, uneasy at this silence, made some of his officers go down into the pit, who, after much diligent but fruitless search, found nothing in it but the dead body of a tiger. The unhappy father doubted no longer the death of his son: he returned in haste to his palace, and sent for the same astrologers whom he had formerly consulted respecting the fate of his heir.
"Unhappy that I am!" said he to them, "your fatal prediction is verified: my son has been devoured by a tiger before the expiration of the seven years; for in the retreat which I prepared for him I have found nothing but the body of an enormous tiger."
"Invincible Sultan!" replied the astrologers, "since the event forces from you an acknowledgment of the truth of our presage, we must congratulate you now on being beyond the reach of an inevitable death, which he whose loss you deplore would have brought upon you. Your son, falling under his destiny, has died in innocence and you are preserved."
This reflection brought some relief to the natural sorrow of the Sultan, and time completely effaced the remembrance of it.
In the meantime, Abaquir, of whom we must not lose sight, grew weary of his idleness in this little village where he had been so well received. His landlord had a numerous family, and but very small resources for their maintenance. The young Prince being unwilling to be a burden on him, went frequently to hunt in the country. One day as he had killed a deer, and was preparing to lay it on his shoulders, he was suddenly surrounded by a troop of horsemen, and doubted not that he was in the middle of a band of robbers.
"Companion!" said the chief to him, "you hunt on foot, and carry nothing but a bow. There are, however, in these deserts many lions and tigers, and you may some day be worsted. Come and hunt along with us, and we will give you an excellent horse."
Abaquir, already eager for the chase, thought he had found an excellent opportunity of following his inclination, and of relieving his landlord of the burden of his entertainment. He briskly replied to this offer by saying that he accepted the favour they intended him of admitting him into their number. The chief of the band perceived by this reply that the young man, who was as yet a novice, had not understood his proposal in its true sense, and thus resumed his speech:
"Since you are willing to join us, we will breakfast together to confirm our acquaintance."
Upon this the rest of the band dismounted, opened their knapsacks, and began each to satisfy his appetite.
"Since you are one of us," said the chief, "I must inform you of the laws by which we are governed. We love and assist one another as brethren, we make an equal division of our booty, and we swear to be faithful in life or in death."
"I have already lived among hunters," replied Abaquir; "I love that way of life, and you must know that if I do not owe my birth to them, I am at least indebted to them for my life. Your laws appear to me extremely equitable."
"Since it is so," said the chief, "I have nothing more to do but instruct you in our rules. Although I am only your equal, every one here submits to me as their chief. And as it is necessary that I should be feared and respected, I treat with extreme rigour all those who disobey my orders."
"The moment you associate in a band," said Abaquir, "subordination is essentially necessary."
"Swear, then, upon the Koran, and by the name of the holy Prophet," replied the chief, "to submit to all our laws without limitation."
As soon as Abaquir heard the divine book mentioned, he believed he had got among saints, and without hesitating took the Koran, put it thrice upon his heart, his head, and his lips, and promised more than was required of him. Thus was he enrolled without knowing it in the number of the greatest miscreants of the desert. All his new companions embraced him with joy. He mounted a fine horse, was covered with a cloak, and armed with a bow, a sabre, and a spear. Abaquir was delighted, and perceived not till next day the rashness of the engagements he had made.
In a short time these vagabonds spread themselves over the desert, and robbed and plundered travellers and caravans. Their number was every day increased by the success of their fatal expeditions. At length their ravages became so considerable that the Sovereign of these countries put himself at the head of some troops to pursue them. This was the Sultan Hebraim. The robbers were surrounded on every side; and Abaquir, being at the head of the band, was particularly aimed at by the Sultan. But the young man, warding off the danger which threatened him, wounded his adversary with an arrow; while, in another quarter, the subjects of the Prince had made themselves masters of the robbers. Every one that did not fall by the sword was taken prisoner, and the deserts were at last cleared of this wandering and destructive band.
The Sultan, however, was very grievously wounded. On his return to the capital, and after having received some medicines for his hurt, he sent for the astrologers.
"Impostors!" said he to them. "Did you foretell that I was to die by the hand of a robber?—you who threatened me only with dying by that of my son?"
"Sultan," replied they, "everything which we have foretold is unhappily but too true. First let your Highness examine the criminal; inform yourself from what hand the fatal arrow came, and then form your opinion of us."
Hebraim ordered all the prisoners to be brought into his presence, and promised them their lives and their liberty if they would discover the person that wounded him.
"It was I," said Abaquir, with firmness; "I have been so unfortunate as to attack the life of my Sovereign, whom I did not know, and I deserve death."
"Take courage, young man," said the astonished Sultan. "Tell me only who you are, and who is your father."
Upon this demand, Abaquir gave a full detail of his history, so far as was consistent with his knowledge, up to that part of it where the tiger wounded him and devoured his nurse. The relation was interrupted by the visible change which was observed on the countenance of the Sultan. But somewhat recovered from this first emotion, Hebraim warmly solicited the account of his adventures. The young Prince continued his history, and ended by describing the dread he had felt when fighting against the Sultan.
"Stop!" said Hebraim, with tears in his eyes. "Approach, and show me the bite of the tiger."
Abaquir obeyed.
"I have found the truth," exclaimed the Sultan, as he examined the scar. "Hesitate no more, my dear son; come into my arms! Let me have at least the consolation, before going down to the grave, of having found my only son.—Astrologers!" said he, turning towards them, "you have told me truth as far as it was possible for you, but I was in the wrong to consult you about my destiny: we ought to submit in silence to the decree pronounced upon us; in seeking to shun it, we only increase its weight."
Then addressing the whole Court:
"Viziers, and grandees of the realm!" said he to them, "acknowledge as your rightful Sovereign Ben-Hebraim, my only son and assist him in fulfilling with dignity the difficult duties of the throne."
Abaquir having been immediately crowned, under the name of Abaquir-Ben-Hebraim, his father died; for he caused the arrow which had entered his body to be pulled out, and his life escaped with the blood which issued from the large wound, while he reverenced the decree whose execution he had drawn upon himself, and blessed God for granting him an heir worthy of his crown.
Ben-Hebraim, early called to the government of a kingdom, but instructed by adversity, brought up amid labour, and virtuous from principle, showed himself worthy of the public confidence. The adventure of the magician and the robbers put him on his guard against appearances. He pardoned the latter, but ardently wished that Heaven would bring the former under his power, that he might make him an example of justice.
One day, as the young Sultan was passing through the market-places of the city in disguise, he perceived a stranger surrounded by a crowd, whom curiosity had attracted. They were admiring some diamonds and jewels of the most exquisite beauty.
Ben-Hebraim observed this stranger attentively, and, under the rich dress of an Armenian, he recollected his wicked dervish. The tone of his voice and his striking air marked him so strongly, that it was impossible to mistake him.
The Sultan speedily returned to his palace, and sent secretly for the youngest of the robbers, whom he had kept on account of the happy dispositions he had discovered in him, and of the aversion he had shown for a manner of life which he had formerly been compelled to embrace.
"Margam," said he to him, "I have need of your assistance in delivering the world from a most dangerous man."
And at the same time he pointed out to him the part he was to act in the plan which they concerted together.
Two days after, Ben-Hebraim sent his chief eunuch, attended by four officers of the palace and a train of slaves, to invite the Armenian jeweller Daboul to come to the palace. And for this purpose one of the finest horses in the stables was led to him.
The pretended Armenian was astonished at so much honour; and not supposing that this invitation had any other motive than curiosity, he collected his most precious effects, and intended to dazzle every eye by the magnificence of the present he was to carry to the Sultan. He entrusted two of his own slaves with it, and allowed himself to be conducted by the eunuch.
As soon as he arrived at the gates of the palace, a deputation from the Sultan, with an officer at their head, came to present him with a richly-ornamented box filled with betel-nuts. All the halls of the palace which he crossed were perfumed with aloes and sandal-wood; he passed thus even to the most retired closet of the Sultan's apartments.
Margam, in the robes of a Sultan, seated upon an elevated sofa, well instructed in what he was to do and say, was waiting for the stranger. Ben-Hebraim had acquired some knowledge in the magical art, the effect of which will soon be perceived.
At the sight of Daboul, Margam descended from the sofa, and came to meet the pretended Armenian, without allowing him time to kneel, as was usual, and made him sit down on the sofa, giving him the right-hand place.
"Permit this homage," added he: "it is that of a young magician towards his master." The astonished Daboul was silent. "Here are my proofs," pursued Margam, and, uncovering his deliman, he showed him the red, yellow, and green-coloured girdle which adorned his breast. "I earnestly wished," continued the false Sultan, "again to bring near me the man for whom wonderful circumstances have inspired me with as much respect as curiosity. The moment is now come, and I congratulate myself upon it."
"Sultan," replied Daboul, "when science is united with power, everything must bend before them. And you see me in admiration at being within the reach of kissing the feet of another Solomon."
"Let us leave to ordinary men," said Margam, "the desire of external respect. I seek not for empty homage, but am desirous to obtain new knowledge. Besides, what is an earthly sovereignty, subjected to so much labour and exposed to so many dangers, compared to that which you enjoy? What a happiness to be able to acquire immense riches, and to diffuse the blessings thereof, without being burdensome to any!"
"I cannot, O wise Sultan," replied Daboul, "but approve of this noble ambition and these virtuous sentiments. We can make ourselves masters of many things with great facility, and without delivering a whole people to misery and the horrors of war: we sacrifice but one man."
"That is precisely," interrupted Margam, "what I wanted to avoid. I would wish to be able to save a man, and it is on this very subject I was desirous to consult you."
"To save him?" said Daboul. "When he is predestined to it, one could not preserve him even by putting oneself in his place."
"In this case, he must be abandoned; but I would wish, at least, that he might only be a slave."
"Sultan, you would obtain nothing. He must be a victim of consequence, and of a distinguished rank."
"But it appears to me," said Margam, "that in a choice like this one is exposed to dangerous resentments."
"There is a method of consulting beforehand," replied the magician, "such as I made use of in my last search, and I received for answer, 'In order that you may run some danger, it would be necessary that you should meet with your victim on earth.' Now, having put him two hundred feet below ground, I could not fear the danger of his return."
After appearing to muse, Margam added, "It will be necessary, then, that I overcome my scruples. I have only one thing to desire of you. We can work together during your residence here. I am going to show you the book which I have upon my breast, and wish you to give me yours."
Daboul could not refuse; he was in a place where everything was subject to the power of the Sultan. Margam took the book, carelessly approached a burning pan, and threw it in. The magician wished to pull it out; but at that instant the real Sultan, coming from behind a curtain, stopped him.
"Wretch," said he, "thy hour is come! Thou art in presence of Abaquir, thy victim, and at the same time of Ben-Hebraim, Sovereign of these dominions."
Then, addressing his page, "Margam," said he to him, "lay aside your royal dress, and make my eunuchs approach. Infamous magician!" continued he, speaking to Daboul, "see how the deceitful illusions of thy art have hurried thee under the sword which must strike thee. Whither shall guilt flee when Heaven pursues it?—when the Divine vengeance arises from the earth to strike?"
At these words the magician remained horror-stricken. But in a short time the terrible remorse which gnawed his conscience appeared to have the same effect upon him that the hot fire had upon his detestable book.
"I burn!" exclaimed he at short intervals, and setting up dismal shrieks.
"Let him be conducted from the palace," said the Sultan, "and let his head be cut off in presence of his slaves and of the people who are there assembled."
Aladin thus finished the history of the Sultan Hebraim and of his son; and, after a moment's silence, he again addressed himself to Bohetzad.
"Sire, I might here apply to my own adventures the reflections which naturally arise from the history you have just heard. But if the decree of Heaven hath not determined my deliverance, there is no means whatever which could save me from the danger in which I am involved. The characters imprinted upon my forehead decide concerning my safety, and the success or the shame of my enemies. But at all events I shall remain rich in my innocence, and sooner or later it will triumph."
Bohetzad, more irresolute than ever, gave notice by a signal that the minister was to be conducted back to prison.
The seventh day had just appeared since the condemnation of the young Aladin had been so often deferred. It was the time of a festival. The grandees, the courtiers, and the nobility of the kingdom were assembled around the throne, a duty they were obliged to fulfil. The ten Viziers had all their creatures there. Some of these, authorized by the duties of their station, undertook to speak to the King against the Superintendent, by repeating all the strongest and most deceitful things that had been said, in order to bring the Sovereign to the resolution of exercising against this convicted criminal all the severity of justice. They finished by insinuating that, being descended from robbers, nothing was to be expected from him but crimes. Every one appeared to support these assertions by looks and gestures.
The unanimity of these advices, in appearance so disinterested, shook the monarch once more. He thought himself obliged to acknowledge these marks of zeal by thanks, and to justify the irresolution of his conduct. "I do not mean," he said, "that the wicked should remain unpunished, but I would wish that the criminal himself, convinced that he has merited death, should be forced to acknowledge the equity of the judgment by which he is condemned."
After this observation he ordered the criminal, who was still loaded with irons, to be brought before him.
"Audacious young man!" said he to him, "you see around me the representatives of my nation, to whom the continuance of your life is a grievance. It is only by your death that the murmurings of my people can be appeased."
"Sire," replied Aladin, with respect and dignity, "as to the crime with which so many voices seem to accuse me, and with whose vengeance I am pursued, I throw it always far from me, even to the shadow of suspicion. If the nation were here worthily represented, its voice would be the voice of God, and would be lifted up in favour of my innocence. This voice, to whose sound every one is deaf at this moment, yet resounds at the bottom of your Majesty's heart. The fowler has less power to smother with his hands the bird which he holds in them, than you have to take away my life. Your clemency alone would not have led you to have deliberated so long, if the finger of Allah did not weigh in your heart the atrocity of the imputations with which I am charged, and if the power of the star which rules my fortune were not opposed to my fall. I find, among the adventures of the family of Selimansha, innumerable circumstances that have a resemblance to mine. Balavan, his son, found, in attempting the death of one of his nephews, that no human power can hasten the moment of death marked out by Providence."
"I should wish to know," said Bohetzad, "if you can show us in the history of this family an example of ingratitude like yours."