The Arabian Nights Entertainments, - [best autobiographies to read .txt] 📗

you think fit to accompany me to my house,” answered the man, “I will give you all the assistance in my power.”

Upon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and whispered, “This man, as you perceive, sir, does not know us, and we have reason to fear that somebody else may come who does. We cannot, I think, refuse his offer.” “Do as you please,” said the prince; “I am willing to be guided by your discretion.”

The man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together, and thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked them if they were resolved what to do? The jeweller answered “We are ready to follow you; all we hesitate about is that we are ashamed to appear thus naked.”

Fortunately the man had it in his power to cover them sufficiently till they could get to his house. As soon as they had entered, he brought a very handsome suit for each of them. As he thought they must be hungry, and might wish to be alone, he had several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate little, especially the prince who was so dejected and dispirited, that he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host visited them several times in the course of the day, and in the evening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early. But he was no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him again to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found him breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him reason to fear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince said, “It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last words. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not tell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is, that I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always loved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. Let her know how much I was concerned at this, and request her in my name to have my body removed to Bagdad, that she may have an opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my departed soul with her prayers.” He then took notice of the master of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking him in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till it should be conveyed to Bagdad, he expired.

The day after the prince’s death, the jeweller took the opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and arrived there in safety. He first went home to change his clothes, and then hastened to the prince’s palace, where every body was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired them to acquaint the prince’s mother that he wished to speak with her, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a hall, with several of her women about her. “Madam,” said he to her, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he brought, “God preserve you, and shower down upon you the choicest of his blessings. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes of us at his pleasure.”

The princess would not permit him to proceed, but exclaimed, “Alas! you bring me the news of my son’s death?” She and her women at the same time wept and sobbed loudly. At length she checked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue without concealing from her the least circumstance of such a melancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done, she farther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given him in charge something more particular in his last moments? He assured her his last words were, that it was to him the most afflicting circumstance that he must die so far distant from his dear mother, and that the only thing he wished was, that she would have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly early next morning the princess set out with her women and great part of her slaves, to bring her son’s body to her own palace.

When the jeweller, whom she had detained, had seen her depart, he returned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so accomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower of his age.

As he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a woman standing before him. He recognized her to be Schemselnihar’s confidant. At the sight of her, his tears began to flow afresh but he said nothing to her; and going into his own house, she followed him.

They sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation, asked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the death of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that she grieved. “Alas!” answered she, “What! is that charming prince then dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar.

Beauteous souls,” continued she, “in whatsoever place ye now are, ye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted.

Your bodies were an obstacle to your wishes; but Heaven has delivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union.”

The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar’s death, and had not reflected that the confidant was in mourning, suffered fresh grief at this intelligence. “Is Schemselnihar then dead?”

cried he. “She is,” replied the confidant, weeping afresh, “and it is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death were extraordinary,” continued she, “and deserve to be known to you: but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to acquaint me with those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.”

The jeweller then gave the confidant the information she desired; and after he had told her all, even to the departure of the prince’s mother to bring her son’s body to Bagdad, she began and said, “You have not forgotten that I told you the caliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace. He had, as we had every reason to believe, been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince by the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You may imagine, he would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar’s conduct, and give striking proofs of his jealousy and of his impending vengeance against the prince. But this was by no means the case.

He pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for what had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about the city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only conclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behavior towards her, as you will hear.

“He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed that the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty (for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear), with a goodness worthy himself, he said �Schemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing before me thus with an air which gives me infinite pain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved you, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the continued demonstrations I have given of it. I can never change my mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies, Schemselnihar,’ proceeded he, �and those enemies have insinuated things against your conduct, but all they have said against you has not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this melancholy, and prepare to entertain me this night with some amusing conversation, after your accustomed manner.’ He said many other obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.

“The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the caliph’s kindness; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the more she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for ever, from her prince, without whom she could not live.

“This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,” continued the confidant, “took place whilst I was come to speak to you, and I learned the particulars of it from my companions who were present. But I had no sooner left you,” proceeded she, “than I went to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what happened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and as she though I came from you, she drew near me, and whispering me, said, �I am much obliged to you for the service you have done me, but I feel it will be the last.’ She said no more; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to comfort her.

“The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments which her women played upon, and the collation was immediately served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit down with him on the sofa; she put such a force upon herself to please him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she was hardly set down, when she fell backwards. The caliph believed she had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never recovered, and in this manner we lost her.

“The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to refrain from tears; and before he left the room ordered all the musical instruments to be broken; this was immediately done.

I stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and dressed her for her funeral, bathing her with my tears. The caliph had her interred in a magnificent tomb he had erected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in.

Now since you tell me,” said she, “the prince of Persia’s body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb.”

The jeweller was much surprised at this resolution of the confidant, and said, “Certainly you do not consider that the caliph will never suffer this?” “You think the thing impossible,”

replied she; “it is not. You will alter your opinion when I tell you that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves, with a pension to each for their support. He has committed to me the care and keeping of my mistress’s tomb, and allotted me an annual income for that purpose, and for my maintenance. Besides, the caliph, who was not ignorant of the amour between Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have already told you, without being offended, will not be sorry if after her death he be buried with her.” To all this the jeweller had not a word to say. He earnestly entreated the confidant to conduct him to her mistress’s tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast concourse of people of both sexes, who were come thither from all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confidant, who was waiting hard by, said to her, “I am now so far from thinking that what you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need only publish abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his mistress. Before his corpse arrives, all Bagdad