A journey to Central Africa

by Bayard Taylor

“The wood-cutter performed all that Zubeydeh commanded. He accepted the challenge of the Vizier’s son, won the game, yet paid him a thousand pieces of gold as if he had lost, and then rode back to the palace, followed by the acclamations of the multitude, who were loud in their praises of his beauty, the elegance of his speech, his unbounded munificence, and the splendor of his attendance. Every day he visited the coffee-house, gave two hundred pieces of gold to the master, two hundred to the servants, and distributed six hundred among the beggars. But the Vizier’s son, overcome with chagrin at his defeat, remained at home, where, in a few days, he sickened and died. These things coming to the Vizier’s ear, he felt a great desire to see the foreign prince, whose wealth and generosity were the talk of all Baghdad; and as he believed himself to be the greatest chess-player in the world, he determined to challenge him to a game. He thereupon visited the coffee-house, where he had not remained long when the wood-cutter made his appearance, in even greater splendor than before. This was in accordance with the instructions of Zubeydeh, who was informed of all that had taken place. He at once accepted the Vizier’s challenge to play, for a stake of two thousand pieces of gold. After a hard-fought battle, the Vizier was fairly beaten, but the wood-cutter paid him the two thousand pieces of gold, as if he had lost the game, gave away another thousand as usual, and retired to his palace.

“The Vizier took his defeat so much to heart, that his chagrin, combined with grief for the loss of his son, carried him off in a few days. This circumstance brought the whole history to the ears of Haroun Al-Raschid himself, who was immediately seized with a strong desire to play chess with the foreign prince, not doubting but that, as he had always beaten his Vizier, he would be more than a match for the new antagonist. Accordingly he sent an officer to the palace of the wood-cutter, with a message that the Commander of the Faithful desired to offer his hospitality to the son of the foreign king. By Zubeydeh’s advice, the invitation was accepted, and the officer speedily returned to Haroun Al-Raschid, to whom he gave such a description of the magnificence of the new palace, that the Caliph’s mouth began to water, and he exclaimed: ‘By Allah! I must look to this. No man, who has not the ring of Solomon on his finger, shall surpass me in my own capital!’ In a short time the wood-cutter arrived, attired in such splendor that the day seemed brighter for his appearance, and attended by forty black slaves, in dresses of crimson silk, with turbans of white and gold, and golden swords by their sides. They formed a double row from the court-yard to the throne-hall where the Caliph sat, and up the avenue thus formed the wood-cutter advanced, preceded by two slaves in dresses of cloth-of-silver, who placed at the Caliph’s feet two crystal goblets filled with rubies and emeralds of immense size. The Caliph, delighted with this superb present, rose, embraced the supposed prince, and seated him by his side. From the great wealth displayed by the wood-cutter, and the perfect grace and propriety of his manners, the Caliph suspected that he was no less a personage than the son of the King of Cathay.

“After a handsome repast had been served, the Caliph proposed a game of chess, stating that he had heard much of the prince’s skill in playing. ‘After I shall have played with you, O Commander of the Faithful!’ said the wood-cutter, ‘you will hear no more of my skill.’ The Caliph was charmed with the modesty of this speech, and the compliment to himself, and they immediately began to play. The wood-cutter, although he might easily have beaten the Caliph, suffered the latter to win the first game, which put him into the best humor possible. But when the second game had been played, and the wood-cutter was the victor, he perceived that the Caliph’s face became dark, and his good-humor was gone. ‘You are too generous to your servant, O Caliph!’ said he; ‘had you not given me this success as an encouragement, I should have lost a second time.’ At these words Haroun smiled, and they played a third game, which the wood-cutter purposely allowed him to win. Such was the counsel given to him by Zubeydeh, who said: ‘If thou permittest him to win the first game, he will be so well pleased, that thou mayest venture to defeat him on the second game. Then, when he has won the third game, thy having been once victorious will magnify his opinion of his own skill; for where we never suffer defeat, we at last regard our conquests with indifference.’

“The result was precisely as Zubeydeh had predicted. The Caliph was charmed with the foreign prince, and in a few days made him his Vizier. The wood-cutter filled his exalted station with dignity and judgment, and became at once a great favorite with the people of Baghdad. The month of obedience which he promised to Zubeydeh was now drawing to a close, when she said to him: ‘Cease to visit the Caliph, and do not leave thy palace for two or three days. When the Caliph sends for thee, return for answer that thou art ill.’ She foresaw that the Caliph would then come to see his Vizier, and gave the wood-cutter complete instructions, concerning what he should say and do.

“Haroun Al-Raschid no sooner heard of the illness of his Vizier, than he went personally to his palace, to see him. He was amazed at the size and splendor of the edifice. ‘Truly,’ said he, striking his hands together, ‘this man hath found the ring of Solomon, which compels the assistance of the genii. In all my life I have never seen such a palace as this.’ He found the Vizier reclining on a couch of cloth-of-gold, in a chamber, the walls whereof were of mother-of-pearl, and the floor of ivory. There was a fountain of perfumed water in the centre, and beside it stood a jasmine-tree, growing in a vase of crystal. ‘How is this?’ said the Caliph, seating himself on one end of the couch; ‘a man whom the genii serve, should have the secrets of health in his hands.’ ‘It is no fever,’ said the Vizier; ‘but the other day as I was washing myself in the fountain, before the evening prayer, I stooped too near the jasmine tree, and one of its thorns scratched my left arm.’ ‘What!’ cried the Caliph, in amazement; ‘the scratch of a blunt jasmine-thorn has made you ill!’. ‘You wonder at it, no doubt, O Commander of the Faithful!’ said the Vizier; ‘because, only a few months ago, you saw that I was insensible to the fangs of a serpent, which had fastened upon my heel.’ ‘There is no God but God!’ exclaimed Haroun Al-Raschid, as by these words he recognized the poor wood-cutter, who had passed under the window of his palace—‘hast thou indeed found the ring of Solomon?—and where is the woman whom Mesrour, at my command, brought to thee?’

“‘She is here!’ said Zubeydeh, entering the door. She turned towards the Caliph, and slightly lifting her veil, showed him her face, more beautiful than ever. Haroun, with a cry of joy, was on the point of clasping her in his arms, when he stopped suddenly, and said: ‘But thou art now the wife of that man.’ ‘Not so, great Caliph!’ exclaimed the Vizier who rose to his feet, now that there was no longer any need to affect illness; ‘from the day that she entered my house, I have never seen her face. By the beard of the Prophet, she is not less pure than she is wise. It is she who has made me all that I am. Obedience to her was the seed from which the tree of my fortune has grown.’ Zubeydeh then knelt at the Caliph’s feet, and said: ‘O Commander of the Faithful, restore me to the light of your favor. I swear to you that I am not less your wife than when the cloud of your anger overshadowed me. This honorable man has never ceased to respect me. My thoughtless words led you to send me forth to take the place of the serpent, but I have now shown you that a wife may also be to her husband as the staff, whereon he leans for support; as the camel, which bringeth him riches; as the tent, which shelters and protects him; as the bath, which maketh him comely, and as the lamp, whereby his steps are enlightened.’

“Haroun Al-Raschid had long since bitterly repented of his rashness and cruelty. He now saw in what had happened, the hand of Allah, who had turned that which he had intended as a punishment, into a triumph. He restored Zubeydeh at once to his favor, and to the wood-cutter, whom he still retained as Vizier, he gave his eldest daughter in marriage. All the citizens of Baghdad took part in the festivities, which lasted two weeks, and the Caliph, to commemorate his gratitude, built a superb mosque, which is called the Mosque of the Restoration to this very day. The Vizier nobly requited all the pains which the Sultana Zubeydeh had taken with his education, and showed so much wisdom and justice in his administration of the laws, that the Caliph never had occasion to be dissatisfied with him. Thus they all lived together in the utmost happiness and concord, until they were each, in turn, visited by the Terminator of Delights and the Separator of Companions.”

So ended Achmet’s story; but without the moonlight, the tall Ethiopian palms and the soothing pipe, as accessories, I fear that this reproduction of it retains little of the charm which I found in the original. It was followed by other and wilder tales, stamped in every part with the unmistakable signet of the Orient. They were all characterized by the belief in an inevitable Destiny, which seems to be the informing soul of all Oriental literature. This belief affords every liberty to the poet and romancer, and the Arabic authors have not scrupled to make liberal use of it. There is no hazard in surrounding your hero with all sorts of real and imaginary dangers, or in heaping up obstacles in the path of his designs, when you know that his destiny obliges him to overcome them. He becomes, for the time, the impersonation of Fate, and circumstances yield before him. You see, plainly, that he was chosen, in the beginning, to do the very thing which he accomplishes, in the end. If a miracle is needed for his success, it is not withheld. Difficulties crowd upon him to the last, only that the final triumph may be more complete and striking. Yet with all these violations of probability, the Oriental tales exhibit a great fertility of invention and sparkle with touches of genuine human nature. The deep and absorbing interest with which the unlettered Arabs listen to their recital—the hold which they have upon the popular heart of the East—attests their value, as illustrations of Eastern life.

From Poetry we frequently passed to Religion, and Achmet was astonished to find me familiar not only with Mohammed, but with Ali and Abdullah and Abu-talib, and with many incidents of the Prophet’s life, which were new to him. The Persian chronicles were fresh in my memory, and all the wonders related of Mohammed by that solemn old biographer, Mohammed Bekr, came up again as vividly as when I first read them. We compared notes, he repeated passages of the Koran, and so the Giaour and the True Believer discussed the nature of their faith, but always ended by passing beyond Prophet and Apostle, to the one great and good God, who is equally merciful to all men. I could sincerely adopt the first article of his faith: “La illah il’ Allah!” “There is no God but God,” while he was equally ready to accept the first commandment of mine.