The Pacha of Many Tales
Page 14
VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN.
"Mustapha," said the pacha, taking his pipe out of his mouth, after anhour's smoking in silence, "I have been thinking it very odd that ourHoly Prophet (blessed be his name!) should have given himself so muchtrouble about such a son of Shitan as that renegade rascal, Huckaback,whose religion is only in his turban. By the sword of the Prophet, isit not strange that he should send him to command my fleet!"
"It was the will of your sublime highness," replied Mustapha, "that heshould command your fleet."
"Mashallah! Was it not the will of the Prophet?"
Mustapha smoked his pipe, and made no reply.
"He was a great story-teller," observed the pacha, after another pause.
"He was," drily replied Mustapha. "No kessehgou of our true believerscould equal him; but that is now over, and the dog of an Isauri mustprove himself a Rustam in the service of your sublime highness. Awarethat your highness would require amusement, and that it was the duty ofyour slave, who shines but by the light of your countenance, to procureit, I have since yesterday, when the sun went down, despairing to findhis glory eclipsed by that of your sublime highness, ordered mostdiligent search to be made through the whole of the world, and havediscovered, that in the caravan now halted on the outskirts of the town,there was a famous kessehgou proceeding to Mecca to pay his homage tothe shrine of our Prophet: and I have despatched trusty messengers tobring him into the presence of the Min Bashi, to whom your slave, andthe thousands whom he rules, are but as dust:" and Mustapha bowed low.
"Aferin, excellent:" exclaimed the pacha; "and when will he be here?"
"Before the tube now honoured by kissing the lips of your highness shallhave poured out in ecstasy the incense of another bowl of the fragrantweed, the slippers of the kessehgou will be left at the threshold of thepalace. Be chesm, on my eyes be it."
"'Tis well, Mustapha. Slave," continued the pacha, addressing the Greekwho was in attendance, with his arms folded and his eyes cast down tothe ground; "coffee and the strong water of the Giaour."
The pacha's pipe was refilled, the coffee was poured down theirrespective throats, and the forbidden spirits quaffed with doubledelight, arising from the very circumstance that they were forbidden.
"Surely there must be some mistake, Mustapha. Does not the Koran say,that all that is good is intended for true believers; and is not thisgood? How then can it be forbidden? Could it be intended for theGiaours? May they, and their fathers' graves, be eternally defiled!"
"Amen!" replied Mustapha, laying down the cup, and drawing a deep sigh.
Mustapha was correct in his calculations. Before the pacha had finishedhis pipe, the arrival of the story-teller was announced: and afterwaiting a few minutes from decorum, which seemed to the impatient pachato be eternal, Mustapha clapped his hands, and the man was ushered in.
"Kosh amedid! you are welcome," said the pacha, as the kessehgou enteredthe divan: he was a slight, elegantly moulded person, of about thirtyyears of age.
"I am here in obedience to the will of the pacha," replied the man in amost musical voice, as he salaamed low. "What does his highness requireof his slave Menouni?"
"His highness requires a proof of thy talent, and an opportunity toextend his bounty."
"I am less than dust, and am ready to cover my head with ashes, not tofeel my soul in the seventh heaven at the condescension of his highness;yet would I fain do his bidding and depart, for a vow to the Prophet issacred, and it is written in the Koran--"
"Never mind the Koran just now, good Menouni; we ask of thee a proof ofthy art. Tell me a story."
"Most proud shall I be of the honour. Will not my face be whitened toall eternity? Shall your slave relate the loves of Leilah and Majnoun?"
"No, no," replied the pacha; "something that will interest me."
"Then will I narrate the history of the Scarred Lover."
"That sounds well, Mustapha," observed the pacha.
"Who can foresee so well as your sublime highness?" replied Mustapha."Menouni, it is the pleasure of the pacha that you proceed."
"Your slave obeys. Your sublime perspicuity is but too well acquaintedwith geography--?"
"Not that I know of. Hath he ever left his slippers at our threshold,Mustapha?"
"I suspect," replied Mustapha, "that he goes all over the world, andtherefore he must have been here. Proceed, Menouni, and ask not suchquestions. By virtue of his office, his sublime highness knowseverything."
"True," said the pacha, shaking his beard with great dignity andsatisfaction.
"I did but presume to put the question," replied Menouni, whose voicewas soft and silvery as a flute on a summer's silent eve, "as, toperfectly understand the part of the world from which my tale has beentransmitted, I thought that a knowledge of that science was required:but I have eaten dirt, and am covered with shame at my indiscretion,which would not have occurred, had it not been that the sublime sultan,when I last had the honour to narrate the story, was pleased tointerrupt me, from his not being quite convinced that the parts of theworld were known to him. But I will now proceed with my tale, whichshall go forward with the majestic pace of the camel, proud in hispilgrimage over the desert, towards the shrine of our Holy Prophet."
THE SCARRED LOVER.
In the north-eastern parts of the vast peninsula of India, there didexist a flourishing and extended kingdom, eminent for the beauty of thecountry, the fertility of the soil, and the salubrity of the climate.This kingdom was bounded on the east by a country named Lusitania, thatlies northerly towards the coast of Iceland, so called from theexcessive heat of the winter. On the south it was bounded by a slip ofland, the name of which has slipped my memory; but it runs into the seasunder the dominion of the great chain of Tartary. On the west it isbounded by another kingdom, the name of which I have also forgotten; andon the north by another kingdom, the name of which I do not remember.After this explanation, with your sublime highness's knowledge, to whichthat of the sage Lokman was but in comparison as the seed is to thewater-melon, I hardly need say that it was the ancient kingdom ofSouffra.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Menouni, you are quite right," observed the pacha. "Proceed."
"Fortunate is your slave to stand in the presence of so much wisdom,"continued Menouni, "for I was in doubt; the splendour of your presencehad startled my memory, as the presence of the caravan doth the zebrafoal of the desert."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
In this delightful kingdom, where the nightingales sang away theirexistence in their love for the rose, and the roses gave forth theirperfume until the air was one continued essence of delight, such as isinhaled by the true believers when they first approach the gates ofParadise, and are enchanted by the beckoning of the houris from thegolden walls, there lived a beautiful Hindu princess, who walked inloveliness, and whose smile was a decree to be happy to all on whom itfell; yet for reasons which my tale shall tell, she had heard thenightingale complain for eighteen summers and was still unmarried. Inthis country, which at that time was peopled by Allah with infidels, torender it fertile for the true believers, and to be their slaves upontheir arrival, which did occur some time after the occurrences which Inow relate; it was not the custom for the females of Souffra to lead thelife of invisibility, permitted only to those who administer to thedelights of the followers of the Koran; and although it was withexceeding modesty of demeanour, still did they on great occasions exposetheir charms to the public gaze, for which error, no doubt if they hadhad souls, beautiful as they were, they would have been damned to alleternity. Civilisation, as Menou hath said, must extend both far andwide before other nations will be so polished as to imitate us in thesplendour, the security, and the happiness of our harems; and when Ifurther remark to your highness--
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"P
roceed, good Menouni," interrupted Mustapha, "his highness is not fondof remarks."
"No, by our beard," rejoined the pacha; "it is for you to tell yourstory and for me to make remarks when it is over."
"I stand in the presence of wisdom," said Menouni, who bowed low andproceeded.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The beauteous Babe-hi-bobu, for such was the name of the princess, andwhich in the language of the country implied "the cream-tart ofdelight," was left queen of the Souffrarians by the death of her father;and by his will, sworn to by all the grandees of the empire, she wasenjoined at twelve years of age to take to herself a husband; but it wasparticularly expressed that the youth so favoured should be of the samehigh caste as herself, and without _scar_ or _blemish_. When,therefore, two years after her father's death, the beautifulBabe-bi-bobu had attained the age of twelve years, swift runners onfoot, and speedy messengers mounted upon the fleetest dromedaries andArab horses of the purest race, were despatched through all the kingdomof Souffra to make known the injunctions of the will; the news of whichat last flew to the adjacent kingdoms, and from them to all the cornersof the round world, and none were ignorant. In the kingdom of Souffra,from which the choice was to be made, all the youth of caste were in astate of fermentation, because they had a chance of obtaining thehonour; and all those of lower caste were in a state of fermentation, tothink they had no chance of obtaining such an honour; and all the womenof high caste, or low caste, or no caste, were all in a state offermentation, because--because--
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Because they always are so," interrupted the pacha. "Proceed,Menouni."
"I thank your sublime highness for having relieved me in my case ofdifficulty; for who can give reasons for the conduct of women?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is sufficient to say that the whole country was in a state offermentation, arising from hope, despair, jealousy, envy, curiosity,surmising, wondering, doubting, believing, disbelieving, hearing,narrating, chattering, interrupting, and many other causes too tediousto mention. At the first intelligence every Souffrarian youthnew-strung his mandolin, and thought himself sure to be the happy man.Hope was triumphant through the land, roses advanced to double theirprice; the attar was adulterated to meet the exorbitant demand, andnightingales were almost worshipped; but this could not last. Doubtsucceeded to the empire of hope, when reflection pointed out to them,that out of three millions of very eligible youths, only one could bemade happy. But when the counsellors are so many, the decision is butslow; and so numerous were the meetings, the canvassings, the debates,the discussions, the harangues, and the variety of objections raised bythe grandees of the country, that at the age of eighteen the beauteousbird of paradise, still unmated, warbled her virgin strain in theloneliness of the royal groves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"But why," interrupted the pacha, "why did they not marry her, whenthere were three millions of young men ready to take her? I can'tunderstand the cause of six years' delay."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The reason, most sublime, was, that the grandees of Souffra were notendowed with your resplendent wisdom, or the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu hadnot so long languished for a husband. All this delay was produced bydoubt, which the poets truly declare to be the father of delay. It wasa doubt which arose in the mind of one of the Brahmins, who, when adoubt arose in his mind, would mumble it over and over, but nevermasticate, swallow, or digest it; and thus was the preservation of theroyal line endangered. For years had the aspirants for regal dignity,and more than regal beauty, hovered round the court, each with hismandolin on his arm, and a huge packet of love-sonnets borne behind himby a slave, and yet all was doubt; and the beautiful PrincessBabe-bi-bobu remained unmarried.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I doubt whether we shall ever come to the doubt," interrupted the pachaimpatiently, "or the princess to a husband."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The doubt shall now be laid at your excellency's feet. It was, as tothe exact meaning of the words, without _scar_ or _blemish_, and whether_moles_ were to be considered as _scars_ or _blemishes_. The Brahminwas of opinion that moles _were_ blemishes, and many others agreed withhim; that is, all those who had no moles on their persons were of hisopinion; while, on the other hand, those who were favoured by naturewith those distinguishing marks, declared that so far from their _being_scars or blemishes, they must be considered as additional beautiesgranted by Heaven to those most favoured. The dispute ran high, and thebeautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu remained unmarried. This great questionwas at last very properly referred to the mufti; these sages handled it,and turned it, and twisted it, added to it, multiplied it, subtractedfrom it, and divided it, debated it fasting, debated it on a fullstomach, nodded over it, dreamt on it, slept on it, woke up with it,analysed it, criticised it, and wrote forty-eight folio volumes, ofwhich twenty-four were advocates of, and twenty-four opponents to thequestion; the only conclusion which they could come to at last was, that_moles_ were _moles_: and the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu remainedunmarried.
The question was then taken up by the dervishes and fakirs of thecountry in a religious point of view; they split into two parties, triedthe question by a dispute under a banyan tree, which lasted eighteenmonths, and still not half of the holy men had given their sentimentsupon the question; tired of talking, they proceeded to blows, and thento anathematisation and excommunication of each other; lastly, they hadrecourse to impalement to convince each other; more than a thousandperished on each side; and still the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-boburemained unmarried.
The colleges and schools of the kingdom took up the question, and arguedit metaphysically, and after having irrecoverably lost, between the twosides, twenty-two millions of threads of arguments, the question was asfresh as ever, and the beautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu remainedunmarried.
But this was not all; for at last the whole nation joined in thequarrel, splitting into violent and angry factions, which divided townagainst town, inhabitants against inhabitants, house against house,family against family, husband against wife, father against son, brotheragainst sister; and in some cases, where he had doubts on both sides, aman against himself. The whole nation flew to arms, distinguishingthemselves as Molists and Anti-molists; four hundred insurrections, andfour civil wars, were the consequence; and what was a worse consequence,the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu remained unmarried. Your sublimehighness must allow that it was a very nice question--
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What is your opinion, Mustapha?" demanded the pacha.
"Is your slave to speak? Then I would say, that it was absurd to makesuch a mountain of a mole-hill."
"Very true, Mustapha. This princess will never be married; so proceed,good Menouni."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I should observe to your sublime highness, that the Molists were thestrongest party, and the most arrogant; not content with wearing themarks of nature, they stuck upon their faces fictitious moles of everyhue and colour, and the most violent partisans appeared as if they weresuffering from some cutaneous disorder. It was also a singularcircumstance, that no Molist was ever known to change sides, whereas,after bathing, many of the Anti-molists were found most shamefully toapostatise. Every thing was disastrous, and the country in a state ofanarchy and confusion, when the question was most fortunately settled bythe remark of a little slave about twelve years old, who was regularlyflogged by his master every morning that he got up, upon a suspicion ofMolism, and as regularly every eveni
ng by his mistress, on a secondsuspicion of Anti-molism. This poor little fellow whispered to anotherboy, that moles were blemishes or not, just as people happened to thinkthem, but, as for his part, he thought nothing about the matter. Theespionage at that time was so strict, that even a whisper was to beheard at the distance of miles, and this observation was reported; itcertainly was new because it was neutral, when neutrality was notpermitted or thought of; it was buzzed about; the remark was declaredwonderful, it ran like wildfire through the suburbs, it roared throughthe city, it shook the very gates of the palace; at last it reached theholy in divan, who pronounced it to be inspiration from the Deity, andimmediately there was issued a solemn edict, in which it was laid downas a most positive and important article of Souffrarian faith, thatmoles were not scars, and only blemishes when they were considered so tobe. Every one praised the wisdom of this edict; it was read andsubscribed to as an article of faith; towns greeted towns, housecongratulated house, and relations shook hands; what was still strangerwas, husbands and wives were reconciled--and what was even moredelightful, there was now some chance of the beautiful PrincessBabe-bi-bobu no longer remaining unmarried.
This fortunate edict, by which it was clear that those who believed amole to be a blemish were quite safe, and who did not believe it, werein no manner of danger, set every thing to rights; the metropolis wasagain filled with aspirants, the air tortured with the music of themandolins, and impregnated with the attar of roses. Who can attempt todescribe the sumptuousness of the palace, and the splendour of the ballin which the beautiful princess sat, to receive the homage of the flowerof the youth of her kingdom. Soothingly soft, sweetly, lovingly soft,were the dulcet notes of the warbling asparas, or singing girls, nowebbing, now flowing in tender gushes of melody, while down the sides ofthe elegant and highly pillared hall, now advancing, now retreating, thedancing girls, each beautiful as Artee herself in her splendour, seemedalmost to demand, in their aggregate, that gaze of homage due only tothe peerless individual who at once burned and languished on her emeraldthrone. Three days had the princess sat in that hall of delight, tiredand annoyed with the constant stream of the Souffra youths, whoprostrated themselves and passed on. The fourth morning dawned, andnone could say that either by gesture, sigh, or look, they had beendistinguished by even a shadow of preference. And the noble youthscommuned in their despair, and murmured among themselves; many a footwas stamped with unbecoming impatience, and many a moustache twistedwith a pretty indignation. The inhabitants of the capital blamed theimpetuosity of the youths; to say the least of it, if it were notdisloyal, it was ungallant; and what was worse, they showed no regardfor the welfare of the citizens, over whom they each aspired to reign assovereign, for they must be aware that now was the time that thecitizens, from such an influx of aspirants, were reaping a goldenharvest. And they added, with great truth, that a princess who had beencompelled to wait six years to satisfy the doubts of others, had a mostundeniable right to wait as many days to satisfy her own. On the fourthday, the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu again took her seat on the goldencushions, with her legs crossed, and her little feet hidden under thefolds of her loose, azure-coloured satin trousers, and it was supposedthat there was more brightness in her eyes, and more animation in hercountenance than on the previous days; but still the crowd passed onunnoticed. Even the learned brahmins, who stood immovable in rows oneach side of her throne, became impatient: they talked about thefickleness of the sex, the impossibility of inducing them to make uptheir minds; they whispered wise saws and sayings from Ferdistan andothers, about the caprice of women, and the instability of theirnatures, and the more their legs ached from such perpetual demand upontheir support, the more bitter did they become in their remarks. Poor,prosing old fools! the beauteous princess had long made up her mind, andhad never swerved from it through the tedious six years during which thedoubts and discussions of those venerable old numskulls had embroiledthe whole nation in the Molean and Anti-molean controversy.
It was about the first hour after noon that the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu,suddenly rising from her recumbent attitude, clapped her pretty littlehands, the fingers of which were beautifully tipped with henna, andbeckoning to her attendants, retired gracefully from the hall ofaudience. The surprise and commotion was great, and what made herconduct more particular was, that the only son of the chief brahmin whohad first raised the question, and headed the Anti-molist party, was atthe moment of the princess's departure, prostrate before the throne,with his forehead, indeed, to the ground, but his bosom swelling highwith hope and ambition. Within a bower of orange trees, in the deeprecesses of the royal gardens, to which she had hastened, sat thepanting princess. She selected some flowers from those which werescattered round her, and despatched them to her favourite musician andattendant, Acota. Who was there in the whole kingdom of Souffra whocould so sweetly touch the mandolin as Acota? Yet, who was there, notonly in Souffra, but in all the adjacent countries, who struck suchoccasional discordant notes as Acota, and that in the ear of thebeautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, who, far from being displeased,appeared to approve of his occasional violence, which not onlythreatened to crack the strings of the instrument, but the tympanums ofthose who were near, who longed to escape, and leave the princess toenjoy the dissonance alone, little thinking that the discord was raisedthat their souls' harmony might be undisturbed by the presence ofothers, and that the jarring of the strings was more than repaid to theprincess, by the subsequent music of Acota's voice.
Acota seated himself, at a signal from the princess, and commenced hisplaying, if such it could be called, thrumming violently, and jarringevery chord of his instrument to a tone of such dissonance, that theattendant girls put their fingers into their ears, and pitied thebeautiful Babe-bi-bobu's bad taste in music.
"Ah! Acota," said the princess, opening upon him all the tenderness ofher large and beaming eyes, "how weary am I of sitting on my cushion,and seeing fop after fop, fool after fool, dawdle down upon their facesbefore me; and, moreover, I am suffocated with perfumes. Strike yourmandolin again louder, beloved of my soul--still louder, that I may befurther relieved of this unwished-for crowd."
Thereupon, Acota seized his mandolin, and made such an unaccountableconfusion of false notes, such a horrid jarring, that all the birdswithin one hundred yards shrieked as they fled, and the watchful oldchamberlain, who was always too near the princess, in her opinion, andnever near enough, in his own, cried out, "Yah--yah--baba senna, curseson his mother, and his mandolin into the bargain!" as his teethchattered; and he hastened away, as fast as his obesity would permithim. The faithful damsels who surrounded the princess could neitherstand it nor sit it any longer--they were in agonies, all their teethwere set on edge; and at last, when Acota, with one dreadful crash,broke every string of his instrument, they broke loose from the reins ofduty, and fled in every direction of the garden, leaving the princessand Acota alone.
"Beloved of my soul," said the princess, "I have at last invented a planby which our happiness will be secured!" and in a low tone of voice, butwithout looking at each other, that they might not attract theobservation of the chamberlain, they sweetly communed. Acota listened afew minutes to the soft voice of the princess, and then took up hisbroken-stringed mandolin, and with a profound reverence for the benefitof the old chamberlain, he departed.
In the mean time, a rumour was spread abroad that at sunset a publicexamination of all the candidates was to take place on the bank of therapid-flowing river, which ran through a spacious meadow near to thecity, in order to reject those candidates who might prove, by any _scar_or _blemish_, not to come expressly within the meaning of the old king'swill. Twelve old fakirs, and twenty-four mollahs with spectacles, wereappointed as examining officers. It was supposed, as this was areligious ceremony, that all the females of Souffra, who were remarkablefor their piety, would not fail to attend--and all the world were eagerfor the commencement of the examination. O then it was pleasant to seethe running, and mounti
ng, and racing, among the young Souffrarianrayahs, who were expected to be examined; and a stranger would havethought that a sudden pestilence had entered the city, from thethousands upon thousands who poured out from it, hastening to the riverside, to behold the ceremony. But to the astonishment of the people,almost all the rayahs, as soon as they were mounted, left the city in anopposite direction, some declaring, that they were most surely without_scar_ or _blemish_, but still they could not consent to expose theirpersons to the gaze of so many thousands; others declared that they lefton account of _scars and honourable wounds_ received in battle; anduntil that afternoon, the Souffrarians were not aware of how muchmodesty and how much courage they had to boast in their favoured land;and many regretted, as they viewed the interminable line of gallantyoung men depart, that the will of the late king should have made scarsreceived in battle to be a bar to advancement; but they were checked bythe brahmins, who told them that there was a holy and hidden mysterycontained in the injunction of the old king's will.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"By the beard of the Prophet, it takes a long time to get a husband forthis princess of yours, Menouni," observed the pacha with a yawn.
"Your sublime highness will not be surprised at it, when you considerthe conditions of the old king's will."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The examination was most strict, and even a small cut was sufficient torender a young man ineligible; a corn was considered as a blemish--and ayoung man even having been bled by a leech to save his life, lost himall chance of the princess.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Pray may I ask, if a barber had cut the skin in shaving their heads,was that considered as a scar?"
"Most decidedly, your highness."
"Then those fakirs and mollahs, with their spectacles, and the brahmins,were a parcel of fools. Were they not Mustapha?"
"Your highness's wisdom is like the overflowing of the honey pot,"replied Mustapha.
"You know, Mustapha, as well as I do, that it is almost impossible notto draw blood, if there happens to be a pimple, or a bad razor; but,however, proceed, Menouni, and if possible marry this beautifulprincess."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
About two hours before sunset the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu, "the creamtart of delight," more splendidly dressed than before, again entered thehall of audience, and found to her surprise, that there remained out ofthe many thousands of young rayahs, not fifty who could pretend to thehonour of her hand and throne. Among them, no longer dressed as amusician, but robed in the costume of his high caste, stood theconscious and proud Acota; and, although his jewels might not have viedwith those worn by others who stood by him, yet the brightness of hiseyes more than compensated. Next to Acota stood Mezrimbi, the son ofthe chief brahmin, and he, only, could be compared to Acota in personalbeauty; but his character was known--he was proud, overbearing, andcruel. The beauteous Babe-bi-bobu feared him, for there was a clause inher father's will, by which, if the first choice of the princess shouldprove by any intermediate accident to be ineligible, his father, thechief brahmin, was empowered to make a selection for the princess, andhis decision was to be equally inviolable. The beauteous eyes of theprincess first lighted upon the form of Mezrimbi, and she trembled, butthe proud bearing of Acota reassured her; and waving her hand as shesat, she addressed the assembled youths as follows:--
"Faithful and gentle rayahs, impute it to no want of modesty that, foronce, I sink the graceful bashfulness of the virgin, and assume the moreforward deportment of the queen. When all appear to possess such merit,how can I slight all but one by my decision? Let me rather leave it tothe immortal Vishnu to decide who is most worthy to reign over this ourkingdom of Souffra. Let Vishnu prompt you to read your destiny; I haveplaced a flower in this unworthy bosom, which is shortly to call one ofyou its lord. Name, then, the flower, and he who first shall name it,let him be proclaimed the lawful king of Souffra. Take, then, yourinstruments, noble rayahs, and to their sounds, in measured verse, pourout the name of the hidden flower, and the reason for my choice. Thusshall fate decide the question, and no one say that his merits have beenslighted."
Having finished her address, the beauteous princess let fall her veil,and was silent. A shout of applause was followed by wild strummings andtunings of mandolins, and occasional scratching of heads or turbans, toremember all that Hafiz had ever written, or to aid their attempts atimproviso versification. Time flew on, and no one of the young rayahsappeared inclined to begin. At last one stepped forward, and named therose, in a borrowed couplet. He was dismissed with a graceful wave ofthe hand by the princess, and broke his mandolin in his vexation, as hequitted the hall of audience. And thus did they continue, one afteranother, to name flower after flower, and quit the hall of audience indespair. Then might these beautiful youths, as they all stood beforethe princess, be compared, themselves, to the most beauteous flowers,strong rooted in their hopes, and basking in the sun of her presence;and, as their hopes were cut off; what were they but the same flowerssevered from their stalks, and drooping before the sunny beams, now toopowerful to be borne, or loaded with the dew of tears, removed to fadeaway unheeded? There were but few left, when Mezrimbi, who had, as hethought, hit upon the right name, and who, watching the countenance ofAcota, which had an air of impatient indifference upon it, which inducedMezrimbi to suppose that he had lighted upon the same idea, and mightforestall him, stepped forward with his mandolin. Mezrimbi wasconsidered one of the best poets in Souffra; in fact, he had everytalent, but not one virtue. He bent forward in an elegant attitude, andsang as follows:--
"Who does the nightingale love? Alas! we Know. She sings of her love in the silence of Night, and never tells the name of her adored one.
"What are flowers but the language of love? And does not the nightingale rest her breast Upon the thorn as she pours out her plaintive notes?
"Take then out of thy bosom the sweet flower of May Which is hidden there, emblematical of thy love, And the pleasing pain that it has occasioned."
When Mezrimbi had finished the two first verses, the beauteous princessstarted with fear that he had gained her secret, and it was with afeeling of agony that she listened to the last; agony succeeded by aflow of joy, at his not having been successful. Impatiently she wavedher hand, and as impatiently did Mezrimbi depart from her presence.
Acota then stepped forward, and after a prelude, the beauty of whichastonished all those around the queen's person, for they had no ideathat he could play in tune, sang in a clear melodious voice thefollowing stanzas:--
"Sweet, blushing cheek! the rose is there, Thy breath, the fragrance of its bowers; Lilies are on thy bosom fair, And e'en thy very words seem flowers.
"But lily, rose, or flower, that blows In India's garden, on thy breast Must meet its death--by breathing sweets Where it were ecstasy to rest.
"A blossom from a nettle ta'en. Is in thy beauteous bosom bound, Born amid stings, it gives no pain, 'Tis sweetness among venom found."
Acota was silent. The beauteous princess, as the minstrel finished,rose slowly and tremulously from her cushions, and taking the blossom ofa nettle from her bosom, placed it in the hands of the happy Acota,saying, with a great deal of piety, "It is the will of Heaven."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"But how was it possible for Acota to find out that the princess had anettle blossom in her bosom?" interrupted the pacha. "No man could everhave guessed it. I can't make that out. Can you, Mustapha?"
"Your sublime highness is right; no man ever could have guessed such athing," replied Mustapha. "There is but one way to account for it,which is, that the princess must have told him her intentions when theywere alone in the royal garden."
> "Very true, Mustapha--well, thank Allah, the princess is married atlast."
"I beg pardon of your sublime highness, but the beauteous princess isnot yet married," said Menouni; "the story is not yet finished."
"Wallah el nebi!" exclaimed the pacha. "By God and his Prophet, is shenever to be married?"
"Yes, your sublime highness, but not just yet. Shall I proceed?"
"Yes, Menouni, and the faster you get on the better."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amidst the cries of "Long live Acota, Souffraria's legitimate king."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Legitimate. Pray, good Menouni, what may that word mean?"
"Legitimate, your sublime highness, implies that a king and hisdescendants are chosen by Allah to reign over a people."
"Well, but I don't see that Allah had much to do with the choice ofAcota."
"Nor with the choice of any other king, I suspect, your sublimehighness; but still the people were made to believe so, and that is allthat is sufficient. Allah does not interfere in the choice of any butthose who reign over true believers. The sultan is the Holy Prophet'svicegerent on earth--and he, guided by the Prophet, invests virtue andwisdom with the kalaats of dignity, in the persons of his pachas."
"Very true," said the pacha, "the sultan is guided by Allah, and,"continued he in a low tone to Mustapha, "a few hundred purses to boot.Menouni, you may proceed."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amidst the cries of "Long live Acota, Souffraria's legitimate king!"Acota was led to the throne by the attendant grandees of the nation,where he received the homage of all present. It was arranged by thegrandees and mollahs that the marriage should take place the next day.The assembly broke up, and hastened in every direction to makepreparations for the expected ceremony.
But who can describe the jealousy, the envy, and the indignation whichswelled in the breasts of Mezrimbi and his father, the chief brahmin?They met, they consulted, they planned, and they schemed. Acota was notyet king, although he was proclaimed as such--he was not king until hismarriage with the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu, "the cream tart ofdelight," and should he be scarred or blemished before the marriage ofthe ensuing day, then must the brahmin, by the will of the old king,choose his successor; and who could he choose but his own son?
"Father," said young Mezrimbi, his beautiful countenance distorted bythe vilest passions of Jehanum, "I have planned as follows:--I havemutes ready to obey my wishes, and a corrosive burning acid, which willeat deeply into the flesh of the proud Acota. I know that he will passthe time away in the garden of the royal grove. I know even the bowerin which he hath wooed and won the fair princess. Let us call thesemutes, explain to them what we wish, and by to-morrow's sun the throneof Souffraria will fall to the race of Mezrimbi. Are we not of thepurest blood of the plains, and is not Acota but a rayah of themountains?"
And the chief brahmin was pleased with his son's proposal; the muteswere summoned, the black, tongueless, everythingless, hideous creatures,bowed in their humility, and followed their master, who, with the chiefbrahmin, ventured by a circuitous rout to invade the precincts of theroyal grove. Slowly and cautiously did they proceed towards the bower,where, as Mezrimbi had truly said, Acota was waiting for his belovedprincess. Fortunately, as they approached, a disturbed snake, hissingin his anger, caused an exclamation from the old brahmin, which arousedAcota from his delicious reverie. Through the foliage he perceived andrecognised Mezrimbi, his father, and the mutes. Convinced that theymeditated mischief towards himself, he secreted himself among therose-bushes, lying prostrate on the ground; but in his haste, he lefthis cloak and mandolin. Mezrimbi entered the bower, and explained tothe mutes by signs what it was which he desired, showed them the cloakand mandolin to make known the object of his wrath, and put into theirhands the bottle of corrosive acid. They satisfied him that theycomprehended his wishes, and the party then retired, the chief brahminquitting the grove for his own house, the mutes lying in wait under somebushes for the arrival of Acota, and Mezrimbi walking away into therecesses of the grove, anxious as to the issue of the plot. Acota,perfectly aware of what was intended, laughed in his sleeve, and thankedAllah for this fortunate discovery; he crawled away on his hands andknees, so as not to be perceived, and hid himself, with his cloak andmandolin, watching in turn the motions of the others--and thus did allparties watch until the sun descended behind the blue hills whichdivided the kingdom of Souffraria from that of the other kingdom, whichmy treacherous memory has dared to forget in your highness's sublimepresence. Mezrimbi was the only one who was not motionless: he paced upand down in all the anxiety of anticipation and doubt, and at last hestopped, and, tired out with contending feelings, sat down at the footof a tree, close to where Acota was concealed. The nightingale waspouring forth her sweet melody, and friendly to lovers, she continued ituntil Mezrimbi, who had listened to it, and whose angry feelings hadbeen soothed with her dulcet strains, fell fast asleep. Acota perceivedit, and approaching him softly, laid his cloak over him, and taking uphis mandolin, struck a chord which he knew would not be lost upon thequick-eared mutes, although not so loud as to awake Mezrimbi. Acota wasright; in a minute he perceived the dark beings crawling through theunderwood like the jackals who had scented out their prey, and Acota wasagain concealed in the thick foliage. They approached like shadows inthe dark, and perceived the sleeping Mezrimbi with the cloak of Acotaand the mandolin, which Acota, after striking it, had laid by his side.It was sufficient. Mezrimbi's face was covered with the burning acidbefore even he was awakened; his screams were smothered in a shawl, andsatisfied with having obeyed the injunctions of their master, the muteshastened back to report their success, taking, however, the precautionof tying the hands and feet of Mezrimbi, that he might not go home toreceive any help in his distress. They escaped out of the gardens, andreported to the chief brahmin the success of the operations, and howthey had left him, Acota, in the woods. The old Mezrimbi, uponreflection, thought it advisable that the person of Acota should be inhis power, that he might be able to produce him when required upon theensuing day. He therefore desired the mutes to go back and bring Acotato the house, keeping a strict guard that he might not escape.
When the mutes had quitted Mezrimbi, Acota rose from his hiding-place,and went towards the unfortunate wretch, who still groaned with pain,but his face was muffled up in the shawl, so that his features werehidden. At first Acota had intended to have reviled and scoffed at histreacherous enemy, but his good heart forbade it. Another idea thencame into his head. He took off the cloak of Mezrimbi, and substitutedhis own; he exchanged turbans and scymitars, and then left him and wenthome. Shortly after Acota had quitted the wood, the mutes returned,lifted the miserable Mezrimbi on their shoulders and carried him to thehouse of the chief brahmin, who having ordered him to be guarded in anout-house, said his prayers, and went to bed.
The sun rose and poured his beaming rays upon the land of Souffraria,and thousands and thousands of the inhabitants had risen before him, toprepare for the day of delight, the day on which they were to be blessedwith a king--the day on which the beauteous Princess Babe-bi-bobu, thecream tart of delight, was no longer to remain unmarried. Silks andsatins from China, shawls and scarfs from Cashmere, jewels, and gold,and diamonds--horses and camels, and elephants, were to be seen spreadover the plains, and the city of Souffra. All was joy, and jubilee, andfeasting, and talking, for the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu was thatday to be married.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I wish to Heaven she was," observed the pacha, impatiently.
"May it please your sublime highness, she soon will be."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At an early hour the proclamation was mad
e, that the princess was aboutto take unto herself a husband from the high caste youths of Souffra,and that all whom it might concern should repair to the palace, to bepresent at the ceremony. As it concerned all Souffra--all Souffra wasthere. The sun had nearly reached to the zenith, and looked down almostenviously upon the gay scene beneath, broiling the brains of the goodpeople of Souffra, whose heads paved, as it were, the country for tensquare miles, when the beauteous Princess Babe-bi-bobu made herappearance in the hall of audience, attended by her maidens and thegrandees of Souffra, who were the executors to her father's will. Atthe head of them was the chief brahmin, who looked anxiously among thecrowd for his son Mezrimbi, who had not made his appearance thatmorning. At last he espied his rich dress, his mantle, his turban andjewelled scymitar, but his face was muffled up in a shawl, and the chiefbrahmin smiled at the witty conceit of his son, that of having his ownbeauteous person unmuffled as well as that of the now _scarred_ Acota.And then silence was commanded by a thousand brazen trumpets, andenforced by the discharge of two thousand pieces of artillery, tensquare miles of people repeated the order for silence, in loud andreiterated shouts--and at last silence obeyed the order, and there wassilence. The chief brahmin rose, and having delivered an extemporaneousprayer, suitable to the solemnity and importance of the occasion, heproceeded to read the will of the late king--he then descanted upon theMolean controversy, and how it was now an article of the Souffrarianfaith, which it was heresy and impalement not to believe, that "moleswere not scars, and only blemishes when they were considered so to be."The choice of the princess, continued the learned brahmin, has however,not been made; she has left to chance that which was to have proceededfrom her own free will, and that without consulting with the ministersof our holy religion. My heart told me yesterday that such was notright, and contrary not only to the king's will, but the will of Heaven;and I communed deeply on the subject after I had prayed nine times--anda dream descended on me in my sleep, and I was told that the conditionsof the will would be fulfilled. How to explain this answer from above Iknow not: perhaps the youth who was fortunate in discovering the floweris also the youth of the princess's choice.
"Even so," replied the princess, in a soft melodious voice, "andtherefore is my father's will obeyed."
"Where, then, is the fortunate youth?" said the chief brahmin; "let himappear."
Babe-bi-bobu, who, as well as others, had in vain looked round forAcota, was astonished at his not making his appearance, and still moreso when he did, as they thought, appear, led in by the four black mutes,with his face enveloped in a shawl.
"This, then," said the chief brahmin, "is the favoured youth, Acota.Remove the shawl, and lead him to the princess."
The mutes obeyed, and to the horror of Babe-bi-bobu, there stood Acota,as she thought, with a face so scarred and burnt, that his features werenot distinguishable. She started from her throne, uttered one wildshriek, which was said to have been heard by the whole ten square milesof population, and fainted in the arms of her attendants.
"We know his dress, most noble grandees," continued the chief brahmin,"but how can we recognise in that object, the youth without scar orblemish? It is the will of Heaven," continued the chief brahmin,piously and reverently bending low. And all the other grandees repliedin the same pious manner, "It is the will of Heaven."
"I say," continued the chief brahmin, "that this must have beenoccasioned by the princess not having chosen as ordained by the will ofher father, but having impiously left to chance what was to have beendecided by free will. Is not the hand, the finger of Providence mademanifest?" continued he, appealing to the grandees. And they all bowedlow, and declared that the hand and finger of Providence were manifest;while the mutes, who knew that it was their hands and fingers which haddone the deed, chuckled as well as they could with the remnants of theirtongues. "And now," continued the chief brahmin, "we must obey the willof the late king, which expressly states, that if any accident shouldhappen after the choice of the princess had been made, that I, the chiefof our holy religion, should select her husband. By virtue, then, of mypower, I call thee forth, my son, Mezrimbi, to take his place. Bow downto Mezrimbi, the future king of Souffraria."
Acota, muffled up to the eyes, and dressed in the garments of Mezrimbi,stepped forth, and the chief brahmin, and all present, in pursuance tohis order, prostrated themselves before Acota, with their foreheads inthe dust. Acota took that opportunity of removing the shawl, and, whenthey rose up, stood by the throne, resplendent in his beauty and hispride. At the sight of him, the chief brahmin raised a cry, which washeard, not only further than the shriek of the beautiful PrincessBabe-bi-bobu, but had the effect of recalling her to life andrecollection. All joined in the cry of astonishment when they beheldAcota in the garments of Mezrimbi.
"Who, then, art thou?" exclaimed the chief brahmin, to his son, inAcota's dress.
"I am," exclaimed his son, exhausted with pain and mortification, "Iam--I was Mezrimbi."
"Grandees," cried Acota, "as the chief brahmin has already asserted, andas you have agreed, in that you behold the finger of Heaven, which everpunishes hypocrisy, cruelty, and injustice;" and the chief brahmin felldown in a fit, and was carried out, with his unfortunate son Mezrimbi.
In the meantime the beauteous Princess Babe-bi-bobu had recovered, andwas in the arms of Acota, who, resigning her to her attendant maidens,addressed the assembly in a speech of so much eloquence, so much beauty,and so much force, that it was written down in letters of gold, beingconsidered the _ne plus ultra_ of the Souffrarian language; he explainedto them the nefarious attempt of Mezrimbi to counteract the will ofHeaven, and how he had fallen into the snare which he had laid forothers. And when he had finished, the whole assembly hailed him astheir king; and the population, whose heads paved, as it were, a spaceof ten square miles, cried out, "Long life to the king Acota, and hisbeautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, the cream tart of delight!"
Who can attempt to describe the magnificent procession which took placethat evening, who can describe the proud and splendid bearing of kingAcota, or the beaming eyes of the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu.Shall I narrate how the nightingales sang themselves to death--shall I--
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No, pray don't," interrupted the pacha, "only let us know one thing--was the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu married at last?"
"She was, that very evening, your sublime highness."
"Allah be praised!" rejoined the pacha. "Mustapha, let Menouni knowwhat it is to tell a story to a pacha, even though it is rather a longone, and I thought the princess would never have been married." And thepacha rose and waddled to his harem.