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Title: A true relation of the travels and perilous adventures of Mathew Dudgeon, gentleman
Wherein is truly set down the manner of his taking, the long time of his slavery in Algiers, and means of his delivery
Author: Alfred Henry Huth
Release date: December 8, 2025 [eBook #77420]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Longmans, Green, and Co, 1894
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77420
Credits: deaurider, PrimeNumber and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRUE RELATION OF THE TRAVELS AND PERILOUS ADVENTURES OF MATHEW DUDGEON, GENTLEMAN ***
The Travels of
Mathew Dudgeon, Gentleman.
A True Relation of the
Travels and Perilous Adventures
of Mathew Dudgeon,
Gentleman:
Wherein is truly set down the Manner of his
Taking, the Long Time of his Slavery in
Algiers, and Means of his Delivery.
_Written by Himself, and now for the
first time printed._
[Illustration]
London:
Longmans, Green, and Co.
New York: 15 East 16^{th} Street.
1894.
THE STORY OF GABRIELLA DI CAPELLINI
THE STORY OF PABLO FRAXADO Y RIBADENEYRA
THE STORY OF YOUSEF IBN ALI.
EL MELEK EN ASSAD, OR EVIL IS REWARDED BY EVIL.
THE STORY OF MOHAMMED BEN KHOSROES, OR EVIL IS REWARDED BY EVIL.
THE STORY OF ABOU ALI, OR GOOD DEEDS ARE REWARDED BY GOD.
THE STORY OF GHERIB AND BÄIDA.
THE STORY OF WOLFRAM VON RABENBACH
THE STORY OF HELIODORA.
THE STORY OF UMEIMEH.
[Illustration]
I am descended from a family of position, which has held from time
immemorial a considerable estate in the neighbourhood of Portsmouth;
and perhaps it was the accident of living so near to the sea that gave
me a taste for seafaring life. Often have I wandered down as a child to
where the old sea-dogs were sunning themselves with their pipes, and
there have listened with all the strength of my little ears to their
tales of the foreign countries they had seen, the wonders of the sea
and land, the birds, the beasts, fishes, and monsters hardly to be
described, and of their perils and adventures; some, I fear me, not
strictly veracious, but none the less entertaining for all that.
Being a younger son of a younger son, I was bound to seek some
profession; and it was only natural that when asked by an indulgent
father what I would choose to be, I answered him that I should
like to be apprenticed to the sea. Now, my father had a brother,
a Turkey merchant in London, married, but childless, and to him I
was accordingly sent. He lived next to his office and warehouse in
a commodious mansion situated in the Barbican, and, greatly to my
disgust, I was kept to my desk at his office learning the business of
a merchant, in order that I might take charge of some of his ventures
as supercargo when sufficiently acquainted with the business, in place
of going to sea at once and witnessing the marvels I had been told of
by the old tars of the Hard. Of my early apprenticeship, however, it is
not my intention to discourse here, and I will merely say that I made
many voyages for my uncle both to the East and the West Indies, gaining
much experience, going through many perilous adventures, twice being
shipwrecked, and winning the esteem and confidence of my uncle by the
skill and ability I showed in the conduct of his affairs. At the age
of twenty-nine, I married a wife, and settled in a house at Southwark,
and soon after my uncle died leaving me a large portion of his property
together with his business. After my marriage I had settled at home,
but after my uncle’s death, when I became for the first time master of
myself, the old longing came over me, and laying out about two thousand
pounds in goods that my experience had taught me were suitable, I
embarked them in the Antelope, Captain Manwaring, who was an old friend
of my uncle’s, his ship then lying in the Thames bound for Smyrna, with
several other merchants, and goods to great value on board. The parting
with my wife was exceeding painful, as indeed it would be to any man
of right feelings. My wife, poor creature, held up bravely until the
last moment, though I knew that her heart was full of forebodings at
the departure for so long a period of her dear husband; and the more
so, since I had never yet left her; and the stories I had related to
her of my previous voyages and perils had filled her soul with perhaps
unnecessary alarm; but little Tom, our child, jumped and crowed in her
arms, delighted at the confusion and bustle around. I kissed her, and
bade her be of good cheer, but she only sobbed the louder until little
Tom, struck by her sorrowful mien, paused in his merriment and gazed
so wistfully in her face that she fell to kissing and hugging him, and
forgot half her pain. Seizing this opportune moment, I motioned to
the boatmen to cast off, at the same time swinging myself aboard the
vessel, and we parted before she could look up. The wind favoured us
very much, blowing fair from the north, which was of service to us,
both in getting out of the river, wherein the tide also helped us, and
in sailing down the channel; but I went into my cabin, and thinking
of my wife, her sorrow, and the many calm delights of my dear home,
fell into a troubled sleep, wherein I dreamed that Tom was grown into
a big man handsome as his father, and the delight of his aged parents.
Nothing worthy of recounting occurred for the first week; the wind
continued fair, having gone over somewhat to the west. Ever and anon we
spoke homeward-bound ships. Ah, how my heart rebelled within me and a
longing seized me to return! How at such times the picture of my poor
wife sitting alone with her little son would fill my thoughts, and
how a wondrous melancholy seized me: all this I will not relate, it
would but tire the reader, and ’tis but a common feeling to those that
depart for a long time from home. We put in at Porto where some of our
merchants had goods to unload, and took the opportunity to get fresh
victuals and water; and then setting sail again, in a day or two we
had passed the mighty Rock of Gibraltar. But here the wind, which had
hitherto been favourable, was against us, and we made but slow way.
It was the third day after we had passed Gibraltar that we saw a ship
to windward of us, crowding all the sail she could carry. We began to
misdoubt that she was an Algerian corsair, or piratical vessel, and our
captain, swearing a great oath, ordered the helm to be put over, and
the decks to be cleared and prepared for our defence. We had a long
eight, and three four-pounders, with of course small arms; these were
all loaded, and every man had his place appointed to him, while we
watched anxiously betwixt hope and fear until we should be satisfied by
their colours. Some imagined her to be French by the make of the ship,
while others urged us to be of good cheer, for they knew her for a
Dutchman from Hamborough. Our distrust, however, made us seek a Spanish
port, till at last French colours came out, which we answered with our
English ensign, and she fired a gun as a command to us to strike our
sail. Our captain, however, who was well acquainted with such tricks of
pirates, would not trust appearances, and now began an all-absorbing
race, in which as we feared, the lives of some and the liberties of
all were at stake. Unfortunately, it was yet early in the day, and we
had no hope of darkness presently prevailing to favour our escape if
they should prove to be the faster sailors. For some time, indeed, the
distance between us appeared to remain about the same, but it soon
became apparent, notwithstanding our great desire to the contrary, that
the stranger vessel was gaining upon us. At half a league’s distance
they discovered themselves to be Turks by hoisting of their bloody
ensign, which they put up instead of the white, and we perceived a puff
of smoke presently followed by the noise of a ball rushing over our
heads. What a terrible sound was this! Many of the merchants fell to
praying, and even I felt some inclination to duck my head as it came
hurtling by. I observed a fellow who before had suffered from some
disease in his legs and hands, much like unto the gout, which made him
unserviceable all the time of the voyage, when he saw the danger he
began to skip about, and handle the guns as if nothing had ever ailed
him. Again came another shot which ploughed up the water close upon
our starboard quarter, and yet another which cut our mainmast in two.
With astounding quickness our men cut away the wreck, but, alas! we
had lost all chance of escape, and about noon the pirate came up with
us, saluting us as she did so with a broadside. Upon this we turned
about and bore down straight upon him, greatly to his astonishment as I
afterwards found, causing him to fear that we were an armed vessel and
not merely the peaceful trader he had taken us for. But what was the
use of arms, or of mine and the crew’s bravery? Fight we did, for above
an hour, and it was furious and bloody while it lasted; some when their
limbs were all bruised, their bones shattered, and their bodies torn
by splinters, did obstinately continue to handle and manage the guns.
Broadside after broadside they poured into us, the air was thick with
smoke, and for the yells of these fiends and the roar of the cannon
we could scarce hear the captain’s orders. We had drawn together, and
as a puff of wind blew the smoke aside for an instant we perceived
some of the enemy lashing the two vessels together. In a moment they
were down upon us, springing from the shrouds, pouring over the bows,
leaping and vaulting like cats. Inch by inch we disputed their way, but
at last perceiving that we had no hope of escaping from them, and that
our vessel was in a sinking condition, we called for quarter, which the
Turks were glad to grant, for they had lost many men; and moreover,
they wished to take us for slavery and ransom. One thing occurred
during the fight which I did then look upon as of evil omen: at a
broadside which we both fired at the same instant, one of their shot
met one of ours in mid-air, and in the encounter split in two pieces,
one of which flew back upon our captain and killed him. Truly it was a
marvellous chance that he should thus be slain by one of his own shot!
Our vessel was in so evil a plight that the Turks quickly removed our
cargo into their own; and when they saw the rich lading, they readily
pardoned us the injury we had done them. Their prisoners were loaded
with chains and also taken aboard their vessel, the dead and badly
wounded were left on board ours, which was then sunk. In searching us
for valuables, they found in my pocket a small case of instruments
which I, who had some knowledge of surgery, usually carried by me; for
in my former voyages I had found the necessity of this and had attended
some lectures under the celebrated Dr. Harvey. Belike for this reason
I was not fettered like the rest, but inasmuch as they were in want
of a surgeon, I was set to heal those wounds I had been so anxious to
make. We were as civilly treated by the Turks as we could expect, but
they were very inquisitive to find our several conditions and what
they might hope to receive from us in the matter of ransom, either
from the property we had in our own country or from the kindness of
friends. I gave myself out for a poor supercargo in charge of goods for
my master, a tale which they, poor fools, believed; at least, for that
time. In my quality of surgeon they gave me plenty to do. I myself had
a nasty cut upon the side of the head, but my wound was not a serious
one: the ruffian’s scimitar had glanced from my skull, which, luckily,
is of good thickness; and beyond the blow, which somewhat dazed me at
the time, I had merely lost blood, which in this climate is sometimes
beneficial, so that despite the foul air and filthy state of the ship,
I was soon in a fair way of recovery. I confess it did my heart good
to see the number of Turks that had been laid low by our brave crew,
besides many we had sent to their paradise if they could find it;
nevertheless as surgeon I did my best for them. The Turks were mightily
pleased with my address, and even he who wounded me swore, that if it
were not that he hated doing a thing by halves, he was almost glad
that he had not killed me. They agreed that I had a pretty talent for
fighting, and some of them begged me to forswear my religion and become
one of them. On the one side they put before me the glory of their
profession, the riches I might get, and the honour in which I should
be held; on the other, they showed me how, if I would not become a
renegado, I should be held in slavery, perhaps sent to the galleys,
and, since I was a poor man, I could not hope to be ransomed. All this
and more I steadfastly refused: how could I forsake the religion in
which I had been brought up, and which I knew to be the true one, to
become a follower of their false prophet Mahomet? And, moreover, I
foresaw that if I fixed myself thus in their country, I should never
dare to purchase my freedom as I hoped to do, and should have more
difficulty in compassing my escape.
When they saw that I was determined, they ceased to importune me any
more. I was, as I have said, left unfettered, nevertheless I was not
allowed to communicate with my companions, save once in the day when I
was permitted to dress their wounds; and thus shut out as it were from
all my kind, I had the more leisure to think over my former estate and
to curse that greed of riches that would not be satisfied with what I
had got, but still would crave for more, as also that insatiable love
of adventure that had brought me to this present pass. In bitterness of
heart I would retire to some quiet corner of the vessel and there con
over the pleasant images of my past life. I would bethink me how I had
first met that sweet girl that was to become my wife; how I would visit
her mother, and commend her cakes and ale--hypocrite that I was!--how
I would relate my various adventures with that modest spirit which is
so inseparable from me, and furtively watch the flush of surprise and
pleasure that mantled in her innocent cheek. Nor did I fail to note
how awkwardly she would arrange the things, desiring to gain time and
linger in the room; how ever and anon she would fetch her breath at
some marvellous or hairbreadth escape, how her colour would come and
go, her breast heave; in short, how she would discover every mark of
deep and tender sympathy. Again I would bethink me of that anxious time
when she began to accompany her parents, a welcome guest, to the houses
of the neighbouring gentry, the centre of an admiring circle. Yet still
she used to blush when I appeared, and her face would brighten; but
withal, so blind was I, that in place of seeing and rejoicing in these
marks of my success, I only saw the wretched cringing crowd of sparks
about her, and paled with awful fear that her inexperienced heart
might be carried off by one of those experienced and faithless liars.
With pictures such as these I well-nigh lashed myself at times to
desperation, and had serious thoughts of casting myself headlong into
the sea, and so ending my miserable life.
The pirates lingered about in these waters, sometimes avoiding ships
that seemed of greater strength than themselves, at others chasing
those that appeared to be mere traders. Several of these they took,
though none of any great value, being mostly laden with oil, wine,
wood, and such-like commodities of great bulk and little use to the
Turks; but they got some Christian provisions, welcome enough to me
that was not used to their diet of dried bread and a small bean called
lentil, or rice and poor John, and a dish they greatly favour which
they call pillaw. One day, however, they had the good luck to take a
rich galleon laden with silver for the King of Spain, after a hard and
desperate fight in which their ship received so great hurt that the
pirate captain, satisfied with what he had already got, determined
forthwith to return to Algiers. We had not sailed a few hours when we
encountered a Spanish man-of-war that laboured to come up to speak
with us; but the pirates had no longer any stomach for fighting, and
so, hoisting all the sail they could carry, they made away as fast as
they could go. Seeing this, I stealthily made fast a cord to a great
sail that lay bundled up at the poop, and as dusk was coming on dropped
it overboard so as to drag and deaden our way, which played to some
purpose; but greatly to my disappointment I observed when it grew dark
that the Spaniard had lost sight of us, and saw by his lights that he
was sailing away, not knowing that we had altered our course, for we
showed no lights. Then finding that there was no hopes of our capture,
and fearing that the sail might be seen in the water, I cut it adrift;
for I knew that should I be found out, I should most certainly be
slain, and perhaps tortured; though I was yet to learn how horribly
they put to death those that do offend them.
The next morning we anchored in the Bay of Algiers, where some
officers, of the Dey, or King of that country, came on board to take
note of what prize we had gotten. Among these was a renegado, an
Italian, that had amassed great wealth by his apostasy. This man was a
trader in slaves, and knew well how to make his advantage: therefore
taking us captives aside as though he would not be overheard by the
Turks, he pretended that his conscience smote him for having abjured
the Christian faith, and held out hopes to us that he would attempt to
escape to his own country, and rescue with him as many slaves as he
was able. To this end he begged us to tell him of our conditions, and
which among us had men of substance and worth among our friends, in
order that he might communicate with them and so save them and assist
the poorer sort to escape, whether by ransom or otherwise. There were
some sixty of us, English, Spaniards, French, Italians, and a few
Greeks, mostly of the poorer sort, and some of them were caught by his
deceitful words; but I began to suspect him, and privately warned my
countrymen, so that we all gave ourselves out for poor men and unable
to provide a ransom, as unknowing of friends of worth. Whereupon he
purchased all those who had told him of their wealth, and made their
lot as slaves harder than the worst Turk would do in order to urge
them the more to pay their ransom. Me too he suspected, but being in
doubt, he would not bid a sufficient sum for me, and I therefore was
taken ashore like the rest with a chain about my neck to be sold as if
I were a horse or a dog. There was a vast crowd all round the landing
place; some brought there by their curiosity, others would-be buyers,
and others again, the relations of those we had slain in fight, who
strove to come near in order that they might wreak their vengeance upon
us: and indeed, it had gone hard with us had not these wretches been
driven back by our masters. Nevertheless, one among them made a slash
at one of us that had chanced to slay his brother at the taking of our
vessel, and sliced off a part of his cheek, which he snatched up and
greedily ate, all bleeding and raw as it was, declaring that it was
the sweetest morsel he had ever tasted. In this guise we were led up
to the market-place, with nothing on us save a cloth about our middle,
when several grave Turks examined us, as we are accustomed to examine
horses in our country, and one that thought to make profit by my skill
in surgery, which had been extolled to him, bought me for two hundred
pieces of eight. In this way, for a time, I escaped the hard labour of
my fellow captives, for in place of being put to building, carrying
of burdens, or to the galleys as were they, I was sent about the town
curing such as were sick, in which I had indifferent success; but that
not satisfying the greed of my master, he would have me work in his
garden also.
In this garden were many slaves, among which was an Englishman, that
may have been a proper youth at one time, with good features and
pleasing countenance, but now all so sunken that he looked a poor
pitiful creature enough. I spoke to him with kindness out of the
abundance of my good nature, the which pleased him so much that he
did whatsoever of my work that he was able for me, while I sat by and
smoked; for though our work was hard, our meat poor, and our lodging
not fit for beasts, yet the Turks cannot conceive that a man may live
if he do not smoke, and therefore they supply their slaves with an
inferior sort of tobacco, which is marvellously cheap in these regions.
One evening, after the labour of the day was over, he appeared to
be wondrously tired, for he was a weak creature that had hardly yet
attained to manhood, and for that reason had been put to the lighter
labour of the garden, I observed the tears rolling down his cheeks, and
asked him whether perchance he was thinking of his home, and if he had
any hopes of obtaining his ransom? ‘My ransom,’ he replied, ‘I doubt
much whether even if it were offered to me I would accept of it; nor
do I know what it is still holds me to this hated life if it be not
the misery that I am enduring. Hear me,’ he said, ‘hear what it is
that I suffer, and then say whether any man would care for life were he
so wretched as I, and tormented as I am! To begin, then, I never knew
a father, and my mother died while I was still so young that I have
hardly any remembrance of her. Her brother, to whom she commended me
on her dying bed, brought me to his wife, who, like a true woman, took
pity on the helpless thing, and they bred me up as their son. About two
years afterwards a daughter was born to them, and we grew up together
as brother and sister, although we knew of the relationship between
us. As brother and sister we loved each other and wandered hand in
hand over the surrounding country, rejoicing together in the air and
sunshine, watching together the habits of the birds and beasts, and
making posies for each other of the wildflowers. Insensibly with my
years my love for her changed, and I rejoiced that I was not really her
brother and began to look forward to a closer and dearer tie. On her
side, I doubt that her thoughts ever changed towards me, or that she
ever thought of me otherwise than as of a brother. Afterwards, perhaps,
when she too had learned what sorrow was, then she also, if she looked
back, may have divined somewhat of the love which I had so hopelessly
cherished for her. For the present, indeed, it was sufficient for me to
be near her, to see her, to breathe the atmosphere in which she dwelt.
Can I ever forget the time when she, then scarcely sixteen, called me
aside one day and spoke words of sisterly esteem and love. Ah! how
I trembled, and would have fallen on my knees and told her then how
I worshipped her, but the words seemed to dry up in my throat and I
could not. I think I must have had a feeling of what was coming, and
therefore it was that I could not speak; and I was glad afterwards that
it was so. She told me that she loved the son of a gentleman in our
neighbourhood, who was far above us in rank. Poor girl! She blushed and
hesitated, pure soul that she was; and all her difficulty hurt me, for
I could not bear to see her even in that pain. She told me that her
parents had forbidden her to see him, and that she wished me to help
her to disobey them. Alas! alas! I was to betray all that was dearest
to me also. Yet I took her message to him, and I saw them meet. He gave
me light words of thanks and put a tester in my hand, and I threw it on
the ground and felt that I could have murdered him, but her image was
between us, and I thought that he might make her happy. She trusted
that evil man and left the home of which she was the life. Would that
I had murdered him! Could she but have known in that glamour of faith
and love what sorrow she was bringing on her parents! I felt like a
traitor to them, a snake that they had nursed in their bosoms; but they
still continued to treat me with kindness though I had told them all,
for they knew that I also had loved her. How carefully they tended
everything that had been hers, as if they were persuaded that one day
she might still return to them: her pet birds, and her little dog Hope,
who would wander seeking for her all about the cottage and be pricking
up his ears at every passing footstep. Often have I seen them pass on
tiptoe by her room as though she slept there, and they were feared to
wake her! Often, ah, how often! have I watched the tears roll down
her mother’s cheeks as she would sit in the ingle nook thinking of
what might have been! I could not bear to leave them, and yet I could
not bear to stop; until at last her silence determined me to set off
in search for her. To this end I wandered through France, until one
coming from Italy gave me to believe that she had died at a town called
Perugia; and I was on my way thither when I was captured by these
corsairs. Now it seems indifferent to me whether I return or not; or
whether my lot be life or death.’ When he had finished, I clapped him
on the back, and bade him be of good cheer, for if she were dead, she
was dead, and there were quite as good fish in the sea as ever came out
of it. But, as I have already said, he was a weak creature, and perhaps
’twas as well that he lived not much longer, as I shall relate in due
course.
I need not say that a man of my kidney could not brook, without
indignation, this state of bondage, and that I was ever casting about
for some means of escape--although I well knew that this could not be
done without peril of my life. Yea, even to speak of it to my fellows
in bondage was a matter of danger; for some, especially those of France
and Italy, were so broken in spirit that they would confess a plot in
order that they might win their master’s grace, and bring their fellow
captives to a horrid death by torture in order that they might gain a
slight indulgence for themselves. I have seen some who were caught as
they attempted to escape, punished in the most horrible of fashions:
those who were too valuable as able bodied slaves to be done to death,
were given a hundred blows on the back, and a hundred blows on the
belly, and then were sent into the galleys; and, indeed, I think from
my own later experience, that the manners of death I am about to relate
are not so terrible as this. Others were executed in divers fashions:
for some they threw from high rocks upon a company of sharp pointed
stakes, planted below, in order that they might die torn and crushed;
one was spread with honey and exposed naked on the hot sands to the
fury of the sun and the stings of venomous insects; one again was done
to death in a more horrid manner, for he was flayed while he was yet
living, and his skin used to cover one of their drums; while another
had a stake thrust through his living body, and there, lifted on high
in the midst of the town, he died soon after, more from the heat of
the sun than from the agony of his wounds. But, methinks, the worst
death was of one who in his rage cursed their prophet Mahomet; for they
poured down his throat boiling lead. He could utter no cry: for all his
throat was instantly burnt away, and there was nought but a hideous
soughing of steam to proclaim his torments. God preserve me from the
like sights again! Though I be not of a weak nature, such things make a
man to think twice before he will attempt to escape and risk the like
punishment!
Now, in my peregrinations as physician, I had been sent to a house
which stood in a garden next to that of my master, in order that I
might prescribe for one of the women therein. Think not, gentle reader,
that I was allowed to cheer myself with a view of her fair countenance;
for these followers of the devilish Mahomet, who drink no honest liquor
but in secret, nor know any true religion, never suffer their women to
be seen. When they go forth ’tis as a bundle of clothes with a veil
over their features; nor, even when I was called upon to prescribe for
their diseases, was I ever permitted to set eyes upon them. There they
sat, behind a curtain, and the most I was permitted to do was to feel
a pulse. I think now that my fair neighbour, for whom, as I have said,
I was called upon to prescribe, did not suffer from ought, but had
seen me through her meshrebeeyeh (which is a sort of Venetian window
of small pieces of wood cunningly joined together, so that one may
look through it from within, but may not be seen from without)--I say
she may have seen me while I was at work in her neighbour’s garden.
But what a thrill ran through me as I took that fair small wrist! I
think that I pressed her hand, nay, I would almost swear that I did,
but my mind was so perturbed that I cannot be sure, and I will not
write what I do not know for certain to be true. I thought that I had
offended her, for she quickly withdrew it, but she returned it again
in a short space, and to my great wonder, as I withdrew, I found that
she had pressed into my hand, for some sign, two small pieces of
charcoal, a lump of salt, and a leaf. In great perplexity I returned to
my quarters, cudgelling my brains to think what this might mean. That
the women of the Turks cannot indite an epistle I knew, as, indeed,
can few of the men. I therefore felt the more sure that these things
conveyed some message, a message from one sympathising with me in my
misfortunes! That was sweet, indeed, to one who had known nought but
hardship, had seen nought but rudeness, and felt nought but blows
since he had been in this accursed country. A message it surely was,
but what? All night I lay awake thinking, until at last, in a flash,
it became clear to me what she meant. The signs conveyed this:--‘Two
nights hence, meet me in the garden at the borders of the sea.’ It
could mean but that! The two lumps of charcoal stood for two nights
hence, the lump of salt for the sea, and the leaf showed that she would
meet me in the garden. Time seemed to move with leaden steps, and for
fear that I should mistake, I was there as soon as ever we were free to
retire for rest from the labours of the day. As I left my lair among
the sleeping slaves, the moon was rising in all her splendour as though
she were a town on fire: everything was silent, but for the incessant
barking of the dogs, the occasional cry of the owl, or the distant
howls of the jackals quarrelling over the carcass of some dead camel
beyond the ramparts. A fitful light could be seen on the distant mole;
but there was nought else to illumine the deep shadows that the moon
cast as she rose. The deep masses of blackness, broken by the outlines
of feathery palms and the tall spires of the mosques, from which the
muezzin calls these heathens to pray, was set off by the white gleaming
roofs of the houses. All this I admired as I stole along and ensconced
myself in some tall bushes in the garden by the sea shore. Presently
I perceived two female figures stealing down to the place where I
lay concealed, which I doubted not were my Reyya and a slave; and in
another instant she was in my arms.
O Love, thou subtle teacher of all that is sweetest in knowledge;
breaker of bolts and bars; thou for whom difficulties only exist in
order that they may be overcome; thou who suffusest the cheek with
the blush of life, and makest the eyes more brilliant than the stars;
giver of more than human subtlety, the only author of modesty, that
chiefest charm of woman, and gallantry, the greatest virtue of man! By
thy grace, although we were mutually ignorant of each other’s language,
yet were we enabled to understand each word the other uttered, words
breathing fire, and love, and truth, and enduring affection! Sweet
indeed were those moments, and bright enough to gild even a captive’s
chain! When I look back again upon that time, and see again in the
shimmering light of the moon those drooping eyelashes that served
but to render endurable to weak human nature the flashes of those
coal-black eyes; flashes which otherwise would have consumed my
innermost heart to dust! When I recall again that tender form melting
in my enclasping arms, I feel again what it is to live, a dream of
bliss lasting but a moment, yet not to be forgotten while still a
breath is left in the decaying tenement on which devouring time has
laid his palsied hand! But though I love to train back my thoughts
to the memory of that time, to picture to myself its joys, and once
again linger over its sweetness, yet is it tinged with the memory of
the bitterness that was to follow upon our delicious intercourse, a
bitterness too often inseparable, alas! from forbidden pleasures.
By the time that we had been tenderly enjoying each other’s society
in these stolen interviews for about the space of a month (for nearly
every night Reyya used to come down to the garden attended by but one
female slave) and when we had learned to converse in a sort of lingua
franca, I began to open to her my thoughts of escape. We had continued
so long in our peaceful interviews, and so pure was her heart, that
she had begun to think that this was to be her life, and had ceased to
project her mind beyond the present moment. When however she understood
that I had thoughts of escape, her heart seemed to stand still, she
clung to me as one distraught, for she was the only daughter of a
tender father whom she greatly loved, and it at once became clear to
her that the time was come when she must elect between me and him.
What tears she shed! Now would she pray me to stay and be one of them;
and anon she would dissolve in an agony of grief as she foresaw how
impossible this would be, for though even I should apostatize, how
could her father unite her to a slave! Nevertheless love to a stranger
is ever greater than filial love, and so her mind was after no long
time settled in my favour, though with heaviness and sorrow; she agreed
to assist all she could in furthering my escape, for she could deny
me nothing. Fervently did I embrace the dear creature at this crucial
evidence of her great love for me, and straightway I proceeded to
mature the plans necessary for my purpose.
There were eleven Englishmen among the slaves of the garden, including
myself: six were seafaring men; one was a merchant from Bristol; one
was an adventurer that had journeyed over nearly all Europe, offering
his sword to the best paymaster; another was a young Cornishman of
means, that had been travelling abroad to see foreign countries; while
yet another was the youth whose story I have related. The seamen and
the Cornishman I knew that I could trust: the former were blunt honest
creatures that would brave the devil to obtain their freedom again,
while the Cornishman was a gentleman of courage as I could see. But I
somewhat mistrusted the soldier who cared not on whose side he fought;
as also the merchant, whom I feared would prove to be fainthearted when
it came to the pinch, and who, moreover, was an old man. The youth I
could trust; but he would be of but little use, and I therefore said
nothing to him on the matter. Taking first the seamen aside one by one,
I communicated my design to them, and they all, like brave men as they
were, agreed to risk everything with me. One was a master-carpenter,
and I found him afterwards of great value to my purpose. Now I had
noticed an old boat laid up among the rocks on the sea shore at the
bottom of the garden, almost worn out, that had last been used for
carrying ballast in the harbour. This I hoped that we should be able to
repair, but we still wanted for oars and sails, provisions and water.
I told Reyya of our necessities, and with her woman’s wit she supplied
some of them in the following manner. Her father, who held some office
in the fort at the foot of the mole, was wont to sail over the harbour
to get there, thereby saving a long round by land. She feigned one day
again to be unwell, and protested that she longed mightily to pass
an evening on the sea; which her father agreed to, and with several
rowers they put out and rowed along the coast. When they were gotten
opposite to where our old boat lay, Reyya stood upright as if to gaze
around her, and making as though she stumbled over the gear, which was
a mast and sail and two pairs of oars that lay at the bottom of the
boat, fell straightway into a violent rage, nor would anything satisfy
her but that the offending matter should be cast out, which her father
consented to, knowing the spot, and intending to send for them later.
I, however, who had been on the watch, instantly conveyed them to
another place, and scraping a shallow trench in the sand, there buried
them so that they could not be found by others. Reyya also, little by
little, brought us dried bread, lentils, rice, and a small breaker
for water, which I thought might be sufficient for us until we had
gained a Christian coast or had been picked up by a passing ship. When
all was ready, I fixed upon a moonless night towards the end of their
fasting time, which they call Ramadan. In this time, which endures for
forty days, they fast while the sun is up, only eating at night time;
wherefore they are weak, and moreover are occupied in their houses in
eating and smoking at night, and are therefore at that time the less
likely to keep good ward; although even then they still have galleys
kept in readiness, and the slaves sleep in their chains at the oars.
As the time approached for our attempt at escape, I observed a strange
fear and restlessness in Reyya: now she wished us to start at once,
and anon she would implore me to put off our journey and to stay
longer, but I would not listen to her in this. Nathless, I had reason
to fear that the English slave, the soldier of fortune, had got wind
of our affair; and once, indeed, made sure that I saw him spying; but
when I examined about more narrowly I could find no trace of him. I
therefore determined to pretend to take him into our confidence, and
named a day upon which we would depart later than that upon which we
had in truth fixed, so as to put him off the scent, and if he did
betray us it should be in vain. In the first hour after sunset on the
appointed day I took the youth aside and led him down to the boat where
the rest were assembled, nor asking him whether he would choose to
go, put him in. I looked around with anxiety for Reyya, but she was
nowhere to be seen. With much perturbation of spirit I ran up into her
garden, but she was not to be found there; and then hearing a commotion
and running to and fro, I hurried down to the boat and gave the order
to push off. Just as we did so, I heard the wails of women from her
father’s house that betokened one dead; and as my companions silently
plied their muffled oars and we steered along under the shadow of the
shore, my heart was heavy and my mind filled with forebodings that the
gentle Reyya was no more. Only long afterwards did I hear it said that
she had been found with a dagger through her heart; but I never rightly
came to know whether she did it with her own hand in the conflict of
choice betwixt deserting her father or her lover, or whether she had
been betrayed by the slave girl or the soldier slave, and had been
slain by her father. ’Tis pitiful that this poor heathen creature was
cut off in the flower of her youth and beauty to suffer those torments
that the followers of the false prophet Mahomet foolishly believe we
Christians are doomed to undergo. I would have saved her if I could,
but much as I doubted of her fate, I had to put away all thought of
her for the more pressing care of my own safety. We had hardly got
the third of a league along the coast when we heard the boom of one
of their great ordnance from the mole, we could see lights flitting
about, and presently two galleys left the port. The savage yells of
the Turks came floating over the calm water, and we heard even the
thwack of the whips over the bare backs of the poor Christian slaves
who were tugging at the unwieldy sweeps: but they went straight out
to sea, which justified my foresight, and left us to creep along the
shore as before for about four leagues, when as it began to be dawn,
fearing to be spied from the land, and thinking that we had got a
sufficient distance from the course of the galleys, we put out to sea.
For the first part of the day we saw nothing, and began to have hopes
that we had escaped the galleys and should make the coast of Spain,
if we did not fall in with a Christian vessel before. But fortune was
against us; for about the second watch, when we were resting somewhat
from the labours of the night, we saw a galley making straight for us.
Doubtlessly they had spied us from the masthead, and so seen us before
we could see them. We rowed as hard as we could, but we were exhausted,
when luckily a breeze sprang up, and hoisting our sail we made some way
through the water. The wind came from the north-east, and I therefore
headed our boat north, for I knew that with the wind three points on
the beam, the galleys would be able to make but little way, and their
oars would rather impede than assist them. They were already so near,
however, that they would try their ordnance upon us; and though most
of their shot fell wide or short, one, that was almost spent, struck
the youth who had accompanied us, scattering his brains all over the
place; and what was worst, stove in our breaker, letting the water run
out into the bottom of our boat, where it mingled with his blood. Had
it not fallen on the breaker it would, I make no doubt, have stove a
hole through the bottom, and we should all have been drowned or taken.
With the rising wind we drew out of reach of their shot, but I would
not allow the body to be thrown overboard yet, for we sailed much
better with so much ballast. In vain did we look out for some sign of
a Christian vessel; nothing was to be seen but the hateful galley,
and our only hope was that we might keep ahead of it, at least while
daylight lasted, so that we might escape under cover of the darkness of
the night. The wind now veered round a bit to the east, so, tying the
shot that had killed him to our dead comrade, we heaved him overboard,
and sailing almost before the wind made, as nearly as I could guess,
directly for Valencia. As the sun set, the galley was almost hull down
in the offing, but the wind only held an hour longer and it then fell
calm.
At dawn the galley was nowhere in sight, for we had changed our
course, as soon as it grew dark, more to the westward, and the Turks
most likely had been rowing all the time in the wrong direction. But
there was still no wind, and we were all exhausted, insomuch that we
could none of us row, but lay at the bottom of the boat and let her
drift whithersoever she would. We had a sufficiency of meat, but no
drink; and as the sun gained in power, we felt the want very sorely,
but still no wind came. On the third day there was still no wind,
and the sun seemed to be hotter than ever; our tongues swole in our
mouths, we could hardly speak, and no one offered to row. Some would
fain have lapped up what remained of the water at the bottom of the
boat which had nearly all been sucked up by the sun, but the blood in
it had putrefied and the stench was too horrible even for men parched
as they were. One drank some sea-water, whereupon he grew even more
thirsty, his tongue cracked and bled, and at last he went mad and
jumped overboard, nor did anyone try to save him. I counselled those
who had the strength to strip, and sink their bodies in the sea, while
they hung on to the boat, and this somewhat refreshed them; but after
a time a shark was sighted, and I promise you we quickly got into the
boat again. Still we saw nothing, and by this time, so great were our
sufferings, we should have welcomed even the Turks. Once, indeed, we
did see something black on the water, and hope rose high, for we
thought that it might be a cask; and even if it contained rum, or some
such liquor, at least we hoped we might go out of the world drunk like
gentlemen. One or two of us made a shift to move the oars, but as we
drew nearer we saw to our horror that it was our dead comrade--the shot
we had tied to his feet was not heavy enough to keep him under, and
there he stood, as it were, up in the water black and swollen, with but
a fragment of head, his arms waving to and fro in the lazy current.
After this we lay as dead, at the bottom of the boat, how long I know
not, but it could not have been more than twelve hours, for another
day’s sun would have killed us outright; and when we came to again,
we found ourselves aboard a Turkish galley. Had they not picked us
up, we had surely perished, yet it grieved us that we had not had the
fortune to be picked up by a Christian vessel; and some of us that
before had prayed, now blasphemed their Maker that He had again cast
them into slavery: and, in sooth, it was hard to bear when we had as it
were already three parts escaped. The Turks treated us well until we
had somewhat recovered our strength, for we were all strong men, and
valuable for slaves, though at present weak, seeing that we had been
unable to eat owing to our great thirst. We were uncertain whether they
knew us to be runaways from slavery at Algiers, for there was nothing
about us or the boat to show whence we came. Many of the people about
Calabria, Malta, and Sicily were attired as we were, and the boat
differed in nought from the boats of those countries. We therefore
agreed among ourselves to deceive them if we could, and to give
ourselves out when questioned, as we presently were, for poor mariners
from an English ship that had been blown out to sea while attempting to
land at Palermo in a gale; and this story they appeared to believe, for
I do not think that this was one of the same galleys that had come out
to take us. We knew, nevertheless, that this would only save us until
we returned to Algiers, where our master would know us again, as well
as others that had seen us before; our only hope, therefore, was that
we might yet be taken by a Christian vessel.
As soon as we had somewhat recovered, as I have said, we were
chained to the oar with the other slaves; and though we had in our
former slavery esteemed our lot to be a hard one, yet it was easy in
comparison with our present state; nor is there any torment in this
world that approaches nearer to the pains of hell. Those deaths that I
before have spoken of, though lingering and painful, yet release the
sufferer after but a few hours’ agony; but this doth last as long as
the slave lives: and some there are who have suffered thus for over
ten years, though not many are so strong as to live so long. Chained
to their benches by the oar, for the double reason that they may
not rise upon their oppressors nor seek refuge in death by jumping
overboard into the sea, there they remain night and day, until the
vessel returns into port again, when sometimes they are taken on land
while the vessel is laid up, and put to heavy work there. Their food
is at best but bread and water, nor have they any covering to guard
them from the scorching sun by day or nipping cold by night, save and
alone a short pair of cotton breeches; their heads are shaved, their
visage disbarbed; their filthy skin, scarred and broken, is pearled
with bloody sweat. At the sound of the whistle, the whole three hundred
of them must start up and row orderly and punctually and all together:
a dolorous labour, at which many do split their hearts. From prow to
poop there is nothing but execrations and passing of blows, the whip is
never resting, and the bodies of the slaves are stiff with congealed
blood. Their repose, when they have any, is at the oar; the upright
bench their pillow, not having so much room as to stretch their legs,
and that only for an hour or two at night, the one half rowing while
the other half slumber, so that their want of sleep is in itself a very
ecstasy of torture. If chased by Christian galleys which might relieve
them from their woes, then must they put forth all their strength to
get away; and should any poor wretch by reason of his weakness faint,
he is beaten until he be dead indeed. If again the Christian galley do
come near within speaking distance of the cursed ordnance, then are
they slaughtered by those who would release them: for being so many and
so close together, more of the poor galley slaves are killed or maimed
than of the devilish Turk. In all this dreadful cup of bitterness is
only one drop of sweetness: for should a Turkish galley be overcome,
they are made slaves upon the Christian galleys; and ’tis sweet indeed
to see them tugging at the oar, beaten, cursed, and spat upon, starved
if they will not eat hog’s flesh, and given no drink if they will not
first taste wine.
Not long after we had been picked up, our galley, joined with six
others which were assembled at a rendezvous agreed before, near to
Tunis, where, having tallowed our vessels, with all celerity we set
forth on a great expedition of destruction for the Italian shores. We
soon descried four Christian galleys which nimbly got from us, and
giving warning to the coast, we found everywhere the people had fled
inland, driving their cattle before them and leaving their crops and
houses and impotent or aged people to our mercy. We landed a party at
Ocootra, a city of Calabria, who destroyed everything that they came
across, leaving nothing behind them but wasted vineyards, burnt crops,
and ruined houses; and this we did at divers other places, insomuch
that it was disliked of by some of the graver Turks themselves. In
this way we came at length to Naples, where there is a mighty burning
mountain, or volcano as it is called, which some wise men say is
hollow within, and through which is a passage to the depths of hell:
for there the groans of the damned are plainly to be heard. Here the
people, as soon as they had notice of our coming, were in great fear:
some of their ships of war which lay in the port were deserted of
their men, who all ran ashore, and we took and set fire to them. The
castle fired upon us, but their shot were so ill directed that they did
us no damage; and the Turks laughing at them passed on, everywhere
getting information from Christian spies of the richest and weakest
places to attack. And, indeed, it is lamentable to see how ready the
Christians are to discover their most hidden secrets to these, their
greatest scourges, though it be to the ruin of their own country. I
have known three of them who, casting off all grace, have piloted the
Turks to the place where they were born, and have been instruments in
the captivating of their own fathers and mothers and all their kin,
afterwards turning renegadoes and receiving their part of the price
for which their parents were sold in the market. One of these piloted
our fleet to a small place called Quirico, which lies a little south
of Leghorn, whence most of the people who were able fled with all that
they could hastily take with them when they saw the Turks landing, who,
nevertheless, brought away 215 persons, besides having slain many that
were too old or that had offended them. Of these one was the Bishop
of San Miniato that chanced to be there at the time, thirty-one were
nuns, and the remainder were women and children and a few brave men
that had stayed to defend the place. What weeping and wailing there
was among these, and how the men wished that they had all slain each
other rather than allow themselves to be taken. They were all divided
among the different galleys, and among those that were brought on
board ours I noticed a girl aged about seventeen or eighteen years, so
beautiful that our rais or captain designed her as a present to the Dey
himself. She was accordingly treated with honour by them, and allowed
more freedom than the rest. Now, as this was the first place that had
offered any serious resistance, so was it the first fight in which
we had many wounded; and I, wishing to soften my hard lot and gain
a little respite from my intolerable labours, offered to bind their
wounds, which they allowed of; and when they saw that I did it as one
that had knowledge, they released me from my heaviest chains, and I
was appointed assistant chirurgeon to a renegade that held the chief
office. Whether it was that my face inspired confidence, or whether,
knowing that I was no renegade, this fair creature had the more hope
from me, I know not; but one evening when it was already dark, I heard
a gentle ‘hist’ in my ear. I started, and a fair hand on my shoulder
motioned me not to move. ‘I am one of the captives,’ said the voice;
‘she, alas! who is destined to worse than slavery; art thou willing to
assist me?’ She spoke in Italian, a language which I read before I had
left England, and which I had talked to some of the other captives; I
could therefore answer her in her own tongue, and assured her that any
man who had once seen her would willingly die in her service. ‘A truce
to compliments,’ she answered, ‘but listen to my story, and you will
then see whether it is possible to assist me.’ With many sighs she then
related her story as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF GABRIELLA DI CAPELLINI_
My name is Gabriella, and I belong to the princely house of the
Capellini who hold vast possessions in the neighbourhood of Siena.
My father is a distinguished general in the service of the Duke of
Florence, and in the winter time, when there is little stirring, we
inhabited one of the finest palazzos in Florence. I am an only child,
and consequently a great heiress; for which reason, and also on account
of the high position of my father, you may readily imagine that we
did not want for the best society that the town could afford. In the
division of troops commanded by my father was an old officer whom he
greatly respected for his prudence, courage, and military capacity,
whose name was Girolamo dei Stracci, of the noble family of that name;
but who belonging to the younger branch, had nothing but a small farm
which barely served to supply his wife and only son with sufficient
polenta for their daily food, and an occasional piece of goatsflesh for
feast days. One day he begged permission from my father to place his
son among his pages, saying that he wished to bring him up to be at
least a gentleman, if a poor one; and that, though he had trained him
as well as he was able, yet his frequent absences, and the difficulty
of finding proper companions for him, made him unwilling to let him
remain any longer on his farm, and he would esteem it a favour if he
would allow him to be placed among his retinue where he would meet
with companions who were his equals in rank, and learn all that was
necessary for a gentleman and a soldier, until he was old enough to
join him with the army. This my father very readily accorded; the young
gentleman was enrolled among his pages; and not long afterwards his
father died, leaving him but his farm, his sword, and an untarnished
name.
Baptisto dei Stracci at this time was only eighteen or nineteen years
of age; notwithstanding which, it was difficult to say whether nature
had been more bountiful to him in body or in mind. He was tall, slight
in figure, as was natural at his age, though well made, and with
strikingly handsome and noble features. I would liken him to an Apollo,
but I have never seen any cold and lifeless statue so beautiful as he.
Added to this, he had so just an understanding, such charm of manner,
such perfect courtesy, and spoke so well on every subject under the
sun, that he soon became a favourite among his companions and arbiter
in all their disputes. Moreover he attracted my father’s notice by his
skill in the use of arms and management of the great horse, which,
indeed, he sat like a god, and seemed to make obey his every desire
merely by the pressure of his knee. Soon after being taken to the wars,
he showed such proofs of courage, combined with a certain amount of
prudence, as was very unusual in one of his age.
It is not to be supposed that a youth so favoured should escape the
notice of my sex; but though he showed the greatest gratitude for
all the favours they did him, his would-be adorers found always an
impassable barrier to any tender advances: and yet, so courteous and
charming was he withal, even in his coldness, that he never made an
enemy. The state with which I was surrounded, and semi-seclusion in
which all the upper classes of Italian women are kept, so unlike, as
I am given to understand, to the way in which your country-women are
brought up, prevented me from seeing any of the pages excepting at a
distance, but I should have been more than human; let alone more than a
daughter of Eve, had I not noticed and unconsciously liked the face of
Baptisto dei Stracci. Perhaps I should have thought no more about him,
but my father was never tired of praising him, comparing him with the
other pages, recalling his father’s memory, and predicting a brilliant
future for him. How can I be blamed, therefore, for allowing my
thoughts sometimes to dwell upon this paragon; watching him to see if I
could detect any of those virtues; and detecting, ah! how quickly, his
eyes fixed on me in respectful admiration almost as often as I lifted
my eyes to his. My interest once aroused, I could not fail to note how
every one spoke well of him: how one would extol his bravery, another
his courtesy, and another his good looks. I now listened to, and
indeed, encouraged my tiring women when they spoke in his praise, and
I felt I know not what secret joy when they complained of his coldness
to all womenkind. It was his sole fault, from what I gathered, and it
made me look all the more curiously upon him. I thought he did not
look cold; nay, once or twice I caught his eye so ardently fixed upon
me that he almost made me afraid. But I was soon to resolve the riddle:
for one evening when all the inmates of the palace had retired to rest,
feeling sleepless, I opened the casement and gazed out upon the garden.
It looked so quiet and peaceful in the brilliant moonshine, the quaint
forms of the trees cut into all sorts of shapes were clearly shown, the
birds and beasts and allegorical monsters. I fancied them conversing
with each other until my senses became confused and I dropped asleep
with my head resting upon my hands. I could not have slept long,
however, before I was awakened by some low and sweet sounds as of a
mandoline or some such instrument. It was a sad air, the strings seemed
to weep and sigh, but presently combining in a more measured strain
they were accompanied by a pleasant voice that sang the following:--
Unlock those eyelids, and look out on me,
And give me courage to confess,
That more than words can tell I do love thee,
My sweet mistress.
Ah no,
Not so,
Thou wilt not give me e’en a look, and I
Can only die.
Didst thou look forth, the shining moon would fade,
And every star pale out of sight;
Thy glorious beams would drive away night’s shade:
Than suns more bright!
Ah no,
Not so,
Thou wilt not gild me with a look, and I
Can only die.
The sun on all impartially doth shine,
Be they of low or high degree;
Wilt thou not then from thy great height incline
Thy heart to me?
Ah no,
Not so,
Too high, I fear, I’ve dared to look, and I
Can only die.
’Tis said the wind, e’en though it hath no heart,
Is tempered to the lamb that’s shorn;
And thou wilt not, that all sweet kindness art,
Hold me in scorn.
Ah no,
Not so,
Thou wouldst not be unkind to me, or I
Would surely die.
The angry billows in their dreadful ire
Do not all trusting them devour;
And thou wouldst not one tear from me desire
To prove thy power.
Ah no,
Not so,
For if thou didst but frown upon me, I
Must straightway die.
O Love! who art all-powerful, I implore
Thee shoot one arrow in her heart!
Yet let it not prove painful to her or
Cause too great smart!
Ah no,
Not so,
For if it hurt her any whit, then I
For dole must die!
Merely to repeat the words to you can give but a faint idea of the
sweetness of the music and the pathos of the voice. I thought that
I recognised it, but I could not be sure, for I had never heard
Baptisto sing. Could it be he? Whom could it be meant for? And though
I thought of all my women one by one, yet none lodged anywhere near
upon that side of the palace, nor would any seem to fit to the song.
I was tormented as to the meaning and in doubt as to the singer, for
though I cautiously looked all around I could see no one. I closed my
casement and retired to my couch, but not to sleep, and soon I found
my pillow grow wet with tears. In the morning I sallied forth in my
mask with my governess and a retinue of servants to take the air; and
as I was passing through the great courtyard there were, as usual,
numbers of my father’s retainers scattered about, some polishing their
arms, some lying lazily in the sun, some talking or playing at cards
or dice. I caught the sound of a mandoline: it was the strain I had
heard the night before, and looking furtively round I saw Baptisto,
who immediately changed the melody as I went out, to a wild plaintive
air full of sadness. I cannot describe what my thoughts were at this
discovery. Two things were certain: first that the singer of last
night was none other than I had suspected; and secondly, that if it
was intended for the ears of anyone, it was intended for mine. No
other woman was with me then but my governess. Was I intended to hear
it? If not, why did he repeat the air again as I passed by? Forsooth
it may have been chance, nevertheless the allusion in the song to
the difference of rank convinced me that he could mean no other than
myself. I felt pleased and flattered, and the more I thought over it,
as I could not help thinking, and considered that I, I to whom he had
hardly spoken a word, was the object of his adoration, that I had
conquered the unconquerable, my heart swelled with pride and delight,
and I forgot for the time that difference in degree between us. Whether
it was that I hoped to hear that sweet voice again, or that my thoughts
were in too great a turmoil, when night came I found it impossible to
sleep. I again opened my casement and looked out, wondering if, and
(shall I confess it?) wishing that he would come again. Nor was I
disappointed, for hardly had I been there for a few moments when, as if
he had been awaiting me, I heard the notes of the mandoline, and after
a short prelude he sang the following song, into which he put a depth
of feeling no words of mine can express:
Oh give me back my heart again,
The heart that thou didst steal from me:
Oh, let me not beseech in vain!
I would not be so cruel to thee.
When I first saw thy face, ’twas as
The sun shone forth from leaden skies:
I looked, I loved, and now, alas!
I cannot breathe for choking sighs.
Before I saw thee, I was gay
And free and blithe and debonnaire;
But thou didst steal my heart away,
And now dost leave me to despair.
Oh, can a form divinely rare;
As thine, enclose a heart of stone?
It cannot be that one so fair
Unmoved can listen to my moan!
Thine eyes are grey, and like unto
The colour that in steel we see;
Oh, they’re not hard as steel, but true
As steel, and they will melt for me!
Thy brow is like a marble shrine
That thy sweet mind within doth guard;
Oh, let that mind to me incline,
And not be like to marble hard!
About thy head, thy golden hair
A saintly aureole is; oh, bless
With a kind word thy worshipper,
And leave him not in his distress!
Thy cheeks are soft, and red and white,
And blush with every virgin thought;
To blush a greeting at the sight
Of me, oh let them then be taught!
Thy ruddy lips harmoniously
Are tuned alone to speak what’s truth;
Oh, let the words they utter be:
Upon thy misery I have ruth!
Oh, give me back my heart again!
Or, since that it is from me fled,
I will not have it back; oh, deign
To give me thy heart in its stead!
As he sung, I listened as one entranced, and sighed deeply as he
finished. Perhaps he heard me, perhaps he was over bold, but in a
minute he was on the balcony at my feet, having climbed up a cypress
tree that grew close by. I would have scolded and driven him away, but
my agitation was so great that no words were at my command, and before
I could control myself he had poured out his soul before me and I had
confessed my love. The hours seemed to fly as minutes, and it seemed
as though we had had hardly time to say a word before the dawn came on
apace. I begged him to leave me, and with great reluctance he went,
but not before he had ravished a kiss. A kiss! He had ravished my whole
soul! and I knew that I should never more know what peace of mind was
while he, my lord, my God almost, was absent. What was this that had
come over me? I seemed to be another being; to be born again with new
aims and a forgotten past. I lived in the future, I was a woman, and
my girlish years seemed to fade away in the remote distance as if they
had been but a dry and insipid dream. How I recalled every gesture and
every tone! How I dwelt upon them, and turned them in every light!
Once, for a moment, I looked into the future, and saw an angry father
who cast me out from him; yet life seemed to me so lovely that I could
not believe it, but took back my thoughts to the sweet moments that
had passed all too quickly. The next day I saw nothing of my love.
The day passed more slowly than I could have believed possible, and
I almost thought that another Joshua had commanded the sun to stand
still. I could scarcely contain myself as night fell; and pleading a
migraine, I retired early, dismissed my women as soon as I decently
could, and anxiously awaited Baptisto. Another night was passed in
delicious converse with him, and at last we began to talk about our
future, when he told me that he was bound in honour to tell my father
of our love, and to ask his permission to win my hand: nevertheless, we
both of us felt that this was tantamount to separation for ever, and
our hearts were heavy. How unlike the ecstasy of the night before! As
we took leave of each other, and felt, too surely, that we had taken
leave for long, perhaps for years, we renewed our vows of unalterable
affection, come what might. The next day Baptisto sought an interview
with my father, which was readily accorded, for he always saw him with
pleasure. On other occasions he had modestly tendered suggestions
on military matters, and my father, who had no pride on such a
subject, had always found his remarks so sensible and so obviously
advantageous, that his more mature experience had seldom prevented him
from entertaining them. On this occasion he was to receive a cruel
wound, for he loved Baptisto as a son, both for his own and for his
father’s sake, and yet you know how great is the pride of us Italians
in everything that concerns our family: how their dearest passions are
sacrificed to their pride of race, and how they would rather condemn
themselves to life-long misery than allow people for whom they care
nought to be able to say that their blood has been defiled by a
mismarriage. My father could scarcely hear Baptisto out with patience;
the idea of an alliance with a house so long impoverished and forgotten
was insupportable to him; and he told Baptisto to think no more about
it, that he would overlook his presumption in consideration of his
friendship towards him, his youth, and the noble house from which
he was descended; but that he was to give him his word of honour to
forget all about me, otherwise he would have to dismiss him from his
service and never see him more. My noble Baptisto in all humbleness
acknowledged the difference in rank and riches, and the great kindness
that my father had always shown to him; and falling on his knee, said
that the great obligations that my father had put him under were
almost more than a father would have done for a son. ‘But,’ he added,
‘love is stronger than man, I love your daughter, and I have reason
to believe that she returns my affection. Could I have known that I
was drifting into love, and that the feeling I felt growing upon me
was something different from increasing respect and gratitude for you
reflected in one that belonged to you, that respect would have induced
me to fly from temptation and to leave you; but, alas, to see your
daughter is to love her, and once in love all volition is gone. I loved
her, and even then I did not realise that love would demand a closer
relationship than respectful admiration. Now, indeed, I am wiser, but
I cannot renounce my love, and though my birth is not unworthy of the
highest in the land, yet I feel that I have abused the hospitality that
you have extended to me; kill me therefore, for I cannot live without
her!’ Then, baring his breast, he presented his sword, saying that
death at his hands would be more merciful than expulsion. My father
was softened at this, and after a moment or two of silence spoke as
follows: ‘You are a man of honour, and I grieve right truly that it
is impossible for me to give you my daughter. I tell thee, Baptisto,
that there is no one that I would rather have as a son than thou, and I
had hoped to be able to supply the loss of thy father to thee. Since,
however, thy dream cannot be fulfilled, thou must leave me. I will give
thee letters for the Duke of Milan, with whom thou mayest take service;
once there, thou wilt see many fair women of thy own degree, and thou
wilt forget my daughter. When she is married, return to me, and we will
be as before.’ Poor Baptisto seized his hand and kissing it with the
tears running down his cheeks said that he would go since he had no
choice, but that he was sure that he would never love anybody else; and
my father, more moved than he cared to show, dismissed him.
Baptisto did not seek another interview with me, but wrote a general
account of what had passed between him and my father; his letter
concluded as follows: ‘Farewell, I can never love anyone but thee. I
wish thee happiness. Whatever be my fate, as long as we both live,
I will watch over thee.’ I had expected an end of this kind to my
short dream of happiness. And yet the blow was very hard to bear. In
your country, perchance, a lady would have written to her cavalier:
for I understand that there they choose for themselves, and, unless
they are heiresses, marry whom they please. Happy country! But I felt
that that was not for me to do, and I verily believe that Baptisto
himself would not have been pleased had I done so. As for my father,
he said little to me: he blamed me for my want of pride in loving
Baptisto, but said nothing more until one terrible day he informed me
that Prince Mazzapiglio had formally asked for my hand in marriage,
and had been accepted; and that he would that day appear to pay his
respects to me. I retired to my apartment as soon as I was permitted,
in a very whirl of grief and confusion, no thought would stay a moment
together in my brain, and I could not frame any course of conduct. The
prince, Baptisto, marriage, and a thousand other thoughts, mingled
with ideas of a nunnery or death, chased each other through my mind
until I thought that I was going mad. I began a letter to Baptisto,
but I could not write coherently, nor did I know where to find him. I
sat there, apparently in a stupor, until I was summoned to meet the
prince, and I was thankful when I entered the saloon that he was not
yet there. He was soon announced, however, and I just managed to rise
and make my courtesy, and note that he was a man old enough to be my
father, when I lost consciousness and fell on the floor, the blood
gushing out of my mouth and nostrils. There was great confusion, and
I was carried to my chamber; a physician was summoned, who ordained
that I should keep my bed, and warned my parents that they were not to
talk to me of marriage at the present; for if I were to break another
bloodvessel, I should certainly die. Upon this my parents treated me
with the utmost tenderness, and nothing more was said in my hearing
of Prince Mazzapiglio, so that after I had kept my bed for the space
of about a fortnight and commenced to mend, I began to hope that all
that it seemed to me that I had experienced in the last few days was
but a dream of an evil spirit. I soon became convalescent, and was
permitted for the first time since my seizure to walk in the garden
of the palace. My governess was but a few steps before me, talking
to my waiting woman, who was the only other person with me, when
suddenly the bushes parted at my side, and a boy appeared who, laying
his finger on his lips, thrust a note into my hand, and without a
sound vanished. So weak was I that I was startled and gave a scream,
and my governess and woman turning back, just caught me as I swooned.
Fortunately, however, my hand unconsciously closed upon the note, and
when I had collected my thoughts, I hid it in my bosom, so that they
did not perceive it. Then, with the fair excuse that I did not feel
strong enough to remain out any longer, I got back to my apartments,
and dismissing the women, tore open the letter, which was, as my heart
had told me, from my dear Baptisto. In it he informed me that he had
heard of my promised marriage with the Prince Mazzapiglio, who, since
he was in high favour at court, and immensely wealthy, might, from a
worldly point of view, be considered a far more desirable husband for
me than he could be himself. ‘I need not tell you,’ he went on, ‘the
agonies that I suffered, but I would not seem to influence you; for I
would rather see you happy in a father’s love and well to do in the
world, than dragged down to poverty by me with your father’s curse upon
us both. But when I heard (for I take care to learn all that goes on),
when I heard how grievously you took it, I wrote to your father, saying
that I could no longer remain quiet, and that since I was now convinced
that your happiness was bound up with mine, I would henceforward do all
in my power to make you my wife. I will not write, even to you, where I
am, lest this missive fall into the wrong hands, and I should be seized
at the instance of your father; but rest assured that I am always near
you.’ My joy at receiving this from my dear Baptisto was more than I
can tell you; for besides the pleasure of hearing from him, I now felt
that he was actively engaged in watching over me, and would not give me
up to the hateful prince. The roses returned to my cheeks, my strength
waxed, insomuch that in a few days my parents again began cautiously
to speak to me about the marriage; and seeing that the talk did not
affect me so much as before, they were persuaded that I had overcome my
former repugnance, or that at least I had become reconciled to my fate.
Although the prince did not yet himself venture to see me, yet scarce a
day passed without some reminder from him, such as magnificent jewels
and posies, and he even ventured to send me verses. Many of the latter
I recognised as old friends; for he doubtlessly thought that I was as
ignorant as most of us girls are, and knew not, and still less cared,
that besides reading the best authors of my own country, I was mistress
of the Latin and French tongues, and had read some of our ancient
literature as well as some of the French poets. Some he may have
composed himself, or at least have had composed for him; and I will
give you an example which is perhaps better than most of his pieces,
though it is hardly likely to please a young girl, or to displace a
favoured lover:
Why would thy May not wed with my September?
Is it my head is silver-streaked with time?
Though I be near my Autumn, yet remember
A woman’s Autumn falleth in man’s prime.
Youth hath its charms to take a maiden’s fancy:
There’s naught behind it, it is all outside,
’Tis but appearance, subtle necromancy,
A mirror picture that may not abide.
In youth thou never shalt find constancy:
A day he’ll love thee, ever after hate;
He’ll sip thy nectar, like a butterfly,
And then he’ll leave thee, all disconsolate.
Contemn not Autumn, it is calm and fair,
Not hot and stormy as your Summers be;
No fickleness or jealousy is there,
But loving peace and gentle constancy.
Do not by glozing youth deceived be:
He’ll be thy master, thou his servitor;
But give thy sweet and tender heart to me,
That will it keep and cherish evermore!
All this, I say, I made a shift to endure, since I heard nearly every
week from Baptisto. I found that he had gained over my governess,
which was a great solace to me, for I longed for some sympathising
heart to whom I might unbosom myself and through her he sent his
letters to me by divers emissaries. My father somewhat suspected our
correspondence, and many straits were we put to to conceal it. Once, a
boy bringing a letter, perceived some of my father’s servants coming
up, and suspecting that they were going to search him, casting about
to conceal it, hastily entered a blacksmith’s shop that was hard by,
where he thrust the letter into the flames. The servants entered and
searched him, but finding nothing, were obliged to let him go; and
then seeing the smith fall to laughter, in answer to their questions
he told them that if they sought for a paper they might find the ashes
if they wanted them. An other time that an old serving-man in like
case was bringing me a letter, seeing himself followed, he picked up a
stone, and wrapping the letter round it, threw it far into the Arno.
The servants took him, and carried him before my father, but to all his
questions he would answer him nothing. My father threatened him that
he should be whipped, but still he would not confess; until my father,
struck by the faithfulness of the fellow, offered him high wages to
take service with him. But the man only said that though his master was
too poor to give him anything, yet would he serve him as long as he
lived. At length, seeing that he could not stop this correspondence,
and fearing that I should continue to refuse the prince’s hand if I
had the comfort of the letters and sympathy of Baptisto, my father
determined to send me to the convent of Santa Barbara, of which a
sister of his was the Superior.
This convent had been founded by one of our ancestresses, mainly as
a sort of refuge for the females of our family whom it might not be
convenient to dower; and Tomasina di Capellini, being the least
handsome of my father’s two sisters, was placed in the convent when she
was only ten years old, and had been forced to take the veil when she
was eighteen. Although she heard news of what was doing in our society
and family, for my father sometimes visited her, she knew nothing of
the world and its ways; she had been brought up without a mother’s
love, amidst a set of women, all of noble families, indeed, but all
outcasts. Some, like herself, had never seen the world; others had
lived a family life, but on their husbands’ death had retired here;
others, again, had sinned, and either by force or of their own will
had taken the veil. It is not amazing, therefore, that my aunt took a
jaundiced view of the world, and had little sympathy with the softer
side of human nature. The holy Mother Ursula, for that was my aunt’s
name in religion, received me with coldness; and the next day, sending
for me, she held forth in a long discourse upon the sin of opposing the
will of our parents, and finally said that it was my father’s desire
that I should remain there until I had vanquished my obstinacy and had
acquired a proper frame of mind. Should I not consent, she continued,
to give my hand to Prince Mazzapiglio within a reasonable time, I was
to take the veil and stay there for ever, for in that case my father
would have nothing more to say to me. I was thunderstruck. I had hoped
that if I had the strength to hold out against him in this my hour
of trial, my father, who I knew loved me, would give way; but I knew
not the force of that feeling which is derived from a long line of
ancestors. I wrote him a passionate letter of entreaty, assuring him
of my love, reminding him that I had never disobeyed him before, and
begging him to have pity on me. I promised him that if he would not
force me to marry where I could not give my heart, I would never marry
without his consent; and finished a long epistle with these words:--‘If
you deny me my prayer, if you still insist upon my marriage with the
prince, it would be easier for me to take the veil and to end my days
here, for I am persuaded that this prison will not hold me long, and I
shall not have much more to suffer before I am relieved by death.’ In
a short time my aunt Ursula sent for me again, and informed me that my
father was much grieved at my stubbornness, and that he requested me
to hold no further communication with him until I could say that I was
ready to obey him. In deep despair I retired to my cell, thinking of
Baptisto, for I doubted much whether he knew where I was, so suddenly
and so secretly had I been sent away. But even if he did know, what,
indeed, could he do? Could he unbolt these locks, or lull to sleep the
vigilance of the nuns, when it was impossible even to communicate with
me? I wept bitterly, and as day after day passed in the same unvarying
monotony, all hope seemed to die away, I grew listless and subdued, I
seemed to have no soul. What could it matter, I found myself thinking,
what could it matter whom I married? I could never be happy any more,
and at least I could please my parents if I consented to their choice.
Here she broke off, saying that it was now late, and she dared not stay
any longer, lest she be noticed. But, she added, come to this spot
to-morrow night and I will continue my sad story. I assured the lady
of my devotion, and took leave of her; and the next evening was ready
betimes, for her story interested me much, and moved me even, in parts.
Attached to the convent, she resumed, and surrounded by its walls, was
a large garden in which the sisters took the air, and also, when they
felt so inclined, did a little gardening. But the real work was done
by an old man, who as he became aged, had asked and obtained leave to
have the assistance of his son, a young boy, who getting older in due
course was dismissed, and a succession of boys took his place. I was
too listless and too miserable to do any work in the garden, which
perhaps, would have been better for me than my continual brooding. But
I used to walk in it, though always accompanied by a sister; for they
had, as it seems, taken notice of my increasing melancholy, and feared
that I might either make some desperate effort to escape or perchance
attempt my own life. Upon one of these occasions I had my attention
attracted for a moment by hearing the sister say to the gardener,
‘You have a new boy; why did you dismiss the last? He was not old,
and moreover, it seems to me that your new one is somewhat older.’
The gardener replied that the other boy was not dismissed, but that
he was on a visit to some relatives, and the new boy was only taking
his work during his absence; and then we passed on. This boy was busy
at the time in pruning some vines by the side of the walk, and, as I
passed by, methought that I heard him whisper the word ‘Baptisto.’
Instantly I turned my head towards him, for we had already passed,
whereupon he made a sign which showed me he had something to say.
As we came round again, I brushed past him as close as I could, and
with great dexterity he slipped a note into my hand. If I had not had
leisure after I had passed him the first time to compose myself as I
walked round the garden, my agitation might have betrayed me; but as
it was, I was prepared, and hastily concealing the note in my bosom I
presently told the sister that I was fatigued and would retire into
my cell. It was indeed from Baptisto: a letter of passionate love. He
informed me that I could communicate with him in the same way that I
received this; and he even had the forethought to enclose a sheet of
paper and a tiny piece of Indian ink, for whence could I have procured
writing materials without drawing down upon me the suspicion of the
sisters? He further begged me to consent to a secret marriage: if I
would do so he had already arranged a plan for my escape; but since
he could not take me to his own relations for fear of pursuit, so he
could not ask me to fly with him without having the right to protect
me. I was greatly troubled, for it is a terrible thing to marry without
the consent of one’s parents, nay, against their express will; while
on the other hand there was the prospect of the happiness of having
Baptisto ever by my side. I had told my father that I would never
marry without his consent, provided that he would not force me to
marry without my own, and he had not listened to me; so that I now
feared every day that I should be forced into a hateful union with
one I could never love. You who know the world and weak human nature
will guess which way this conflict within me ended: I wrote the words
‘I consent,’ and passed it to the messenger the next day. Perhaps
it was fortunate for me that my anxiety and grief at disobeying my
parents prevented the joy which I should otherwise have felt, and did
in part feel, from manifesting itself in my face; and so without being
suspected by the sisters, who still watched me vigilantly, and every
few days under pretext of cleaning diligently searched my cell, I got
another note full of rapture, and containing instructions concerning
the method of my escape. I kissed it again and again, and fearing lest
it might be discovered, I ate it, for I knew it by heart. Baptisto had
been informed by his messenger of the position of the convent and all
other necessary matters, and he had laid his plans accordingly. Now,
every evening the sister who acted as janitor took her keys into my
aunt’s cell, where they remained until required for matins. These I
was to procure, but the key of the priest’s door which gave access to
the chapel from outside, was at present in the hands of the gardener
in order that he might give the masons access who were at work there,
without troubling the nuns every morning: and this Baptisto was himself
to get. Oh, how I trembled when the appointed night came! for I well
knew that if I failed this time good care would be taken that I never
had the opportunity again. The sisters noticed my agitation, which I
could not conceal, and thinking that I had the fever, I was nearly
prevented from my purpose by being sent to my cell before the evening
meal; but I assured them that I could not sleep, and begged them so
earnestly to let me stay that they gave way. I soon slipped into
the buttery, and there, noting my aunt’s flagon of wine, which was
different from those the sisters used, I put a few drops of opium into
it, which Baptisto had sent me for that purpose. Instead, however, of
feeling sleepy after it, as I had expected her to do, my aunt appeared
to be more lively than usual, and also in a better temper, for she
bantered me on my obstinacy as she called it, and made the sisters
laugh. I was in despair, and still more when, as we were retiring to
our cells after the meal, my aunt called to me and bade me follow her.
For the first time since I had been in the convent, she talked kindly
to me, and put before me the advantage of such an alliance as that with
Prince Mazzapiglio, my duty to my father, and many other things of a
like nature. While she was talking, the janitress brought in the keys,
which I looked at with hungry eyes, for I feared that my aunt might
remain awake the whole night; but to my great relief, after a little
longer her mind seemed to begin to wander, she paused in her talk as
if to gather her thoughts together, and these pauses gradually grew
longer until her head, which she rested on her hands, gradually sank
down upon the table, and she slept. I seized the keys, extinguished
the lamp, and quietly retired to my own cell. There I waited for what
seemed to me ages, until I thought all the sisters were asleep; then
stealing down the corridor, starting at every sound, I picked out the
key of the chapel door without much difficulty, and hurrying through
in an agony of fear lest the marble effigies of my relations should
rise up against me, I made my way to the other door, where I expected
to find Baptisto waiting. I tried it, but found it locked. I listened,
but could hear no sound. In trembling accents I whispered the name
of Baptisto, but there was no reply save the sighing of the wind. I
sank down on the stone floor and wept, for I felt that some untoward
accident must have happened: the gardener had gone out with his key,
Baptisto had been seen, or I knew not what! I only knew that all my
chances were gone; that the hope which had so newly cheered me was
but a bitter mockery; and that henceforward I was doomed to a life
of misery and living entombment. But just as I was on the point of
returning to my cell I heard the key turning in the lock, and with a
cry of joy and relief I found myself in Baptisto’s arms. I could not
restrain my tears, so great was the revulsion of my feelings from the
lowest depths of despair to the height of happiness; but Baptisto,
after a tender embrace, hurried me out, and at a short distance we came
to the horses he had in waiting, and then dismissing the servant we two
rode away alone. It did not take us long to reach San Martino, where
Baptisto had arranged with the priest to marry us and ask no questions.
In his poor chamber, therefore, and at midnight, I was married, the
priest’s housekeeper holding our horses the while; and no power on
earth, not even the Holy Father himself, could undo it. We immediately
mounted again and rode on some distance, carefully avoiding the
larger places, such as Castelfiorentino, where Baptisto was known, and
towards dawn we reached Montajone, a mountain village, where we sought
the hospitality of a cottager. Here we gave our horses a rest; and I,
who was dying with fatigue, not being used to exercise during my long
imprisonment in the convent, after a hasty meal, such as the place
afforded, retired to an inner room and was soon fast asleep. Baptisto,
who seemed to be made of iron, meanwhile looked to the horses, procured
some food to take with us, and made other necessary preparations. In a
couple of hours he awoke me, and we resumed our flight. We felt pretty
sure that we should not be immediately followed, because I should not
be missed until the morning, as I did not usually attend the midnight
mass, and no one saw us depart; nor, unless they inquired of the priest
of San Martino (if they chanced to come there, and he chanced to
break his oath) would they obtain any tidings of the direction which
we had taken; for all the country we had passed through was wrapped
in slumber. For these reasons, and for the sake of our horses, and
perhaps too because we liked to ride hand in hand, we did not urge our
beasts along too fast. We rode the greater part of the day, with but
two hours’ rest at noon in a wood, and were looking out for some place
to halt for the night, when in the neighbourhood of a mountain town
called Chianni, I chanced to see a troop of armed men riding down upon
us. I called to Baptisto to fly, at the same time turning my horse
off the track into a wood, and sped on as fast as I could make my way
among the trees; but Baptisto, who was busier in looking on my face
than in looking out along the road, did not follow quickly. I fled on
some distance, and then halted for Baptisto, but the woods were silent
and I was afraid to cry out. I searched hither and thither, but to no
purpose, and by-and-by the shades of night began to fall and my horse
gave evident signs of being tired out. I dismounted and led it along,
stumbling at every step, and as the darkness fell thick, as it soon did
among those trees, my fears grew stronger. Every shadow methought to be
a wild beast, and the soughing of the wind sounded to me as the nearing
cries of the wolves. Tired as I was, it seemed that I had walked for
hours when at length I saw a light in the distance, for which I made
at once, and found to proceed from a humble cottage. I knocked at the
door, and an old man came out, shading the lamp with his hand, while
his old wife peered over his shoulder. I asked him if it was yet far
to Quirico, for that was the port we had been making for, and whence
we had intended to sail for Sicily. The man appeared to be greatly
amazed at seeing me, and replied that it was a day’s journey from
hence, and now too dark to seek the way, nor was there, he added, any
village in the neighbourhood. I asked him therefore if he would give me
shelter for the night; at which he sighed, and said ‘Alas! this wood
is haunted by bands of evil men, and should they come upon me, as they
often do, they might do thee an injury, and I could not protect thee.’
Thereupon I said, ‘Father, I have no choice; if I go on, I shall lose
my way and perhaps be torn to pieces by wolves, or even meet some of
those bands you fear. If I stay with you, I shall only run one risk,
and moreover, both I and my horse are exhausted: therefore I pray you,
give me food and shelter for this night.’ The old couple then gave
me permission to enter, and the best that their cottage afforded. My
horse was stabled in a little shed, and we retired early to rest. But
my fears for Baptisto and the thought of my misfortunes kept sleep far
from me. How hard had been our lot, and how happy we might have been
but for our absurd Italian pride! I had been nearly driven mad by my
fears lest I should be forced into a marriage that I detested; I had
lost my father’s love, a splendid home, and been banished to the gloomy
imprisonment of the convent; and now, when I thought that some chance
of happiness was dawning for me in my Baptisto’s arms, I had again
lost him: nay, he was perhaps killed, and I had lost him for ever!
Tormented by these thoughts, I tossed about and wooed sleep in vain.
Just as it grew dawn, methought I heard the distant trampling of many
horses and men. Hastily rising, I looked forth, and saw many armed men
coming towards the cottage, which greatly terrified me, and seeking
to save myself, I went out to the yard at the back of the cottage for
concealment if it were possible. There I was fortunate enough to find a
great heap of coarse hay, in which I completely buried myself. Hardly
had I done so, when they entered the cottage, and after looking round,
entered the shed, where they found my horse and saddle; upon which they
asked the old man whom he had with him, and he, not seeing me, declared
that there was no one there saving himself and his wife; but as for the
horse, he said he had found it grazing outside his cottage the evening
before, and for fear lest it might be killed by the wolves, he had
stabled it. They appeared to be satisfied with this explanation, and
said that since the horse had no owner they would give it one and take
it with them. Then they dispersed themselves through the cottage, many
of them coming out into the yard, where building a fire, they cooked
themselves some goatsflesh and other food that they had brought with
them, and producing an abundance of wine, they made merry and grew very
riotous; and had I not then escaped another very great danger which
convinced me that I was under the Divine protection, I should have
been even more terrified than I was. For when the men came out into
the yard, they tossed aside their arms, and one out of very wantonness
threw his spear into the heap of hay in which I lay concealed, and so
close did it pass to my right side that it even tore my gown. I was so
afraid that I nearly cried out, but mercifully was able to restrain
myself; and there I lay a-trembling while they rested and ate and drank
their fill: and it then growing light, they went away, taking my horse
with them. As soon as they were gone, the old man asked his wife if
she knew where I was, for he was troubled concerning me; and I then
came forth and related to them how I had concealed myself and what had
passed, at which they greatly marvelled. Now that it was daylight, the
old man told me that I might safely proceed on my journey. At about
ten miles distance, there was, he told me, a castle to which he would
conduct me, called Castellina Maritima, where I could be safely lodged,
and thither he guided me. After resting there a day, and not getting
any tidings of Baptisto, I proceeded to Quirico, where to my despair I
still could hear nothing of him. And then came the night in which we
were attacked in the manner you wot. While the fighting was going on
and I was watching and praying from my refuge, methought I saw Baptisto
among the few who had stayed and were defending the place from the
Turks; and I have seen him here on board this galley rowing among the
slaves. How relieved, and at the same time how miserable I felt when I
recognised him you will readily imagine: relieved that he had escaped
from the robbers, and miserable that through me, and in my defence, he
should have been condemned to this slavery. I trust in you to help to
communicate with him in order that we may endeavour to form some plan
of escape, and failing that, I am resolved to put an end to this life
which seems destined to be nought but a source of unhappiness to its
owner and to all who come in contact with her.
It was already late when she had finished her narrative, and we
therefore agreed to meet the next night to consider what were best to
be done. The next day, as I dressed Baptisto’s wounds, I whispered to
him that I knew his story; but we could come to no plan of escape. We
were steering up towards Genoa, and as we neared the place a galley
came out flying a flag of truce, and our fleet halted to parley. All
the captains assembled on board our vessel, and the embassy from Genoa,
several grave and reverend signors, came on board too. They were come
to offer the exchange of Mahometan captives for Christians, which was
accepted of, but only a few, and those that had been lately taken, were
exchanged: for most of the slaves had no friends in these parts. Among
the rest of the embassy was a man of consideration, who when he was
come on board and his eyes fell on Gabriella could not restrain the hot
tears from coursing down his wrinkled cheeks. She also recognising him
seemed to fall into a swoon; and I soon discovered that this was her
father. The Turks at the beginning would not listen to any offer of
ransom, but at length, being tempted by a large sum, they gave way, and
Gabriella was free to go. But this she refused without Baptisto being
also ransomed; for, as she told her father, he was her husband, and she
intended rather to die than be ransomed and leave him, who was become a
slave for her sake. The old general had a terrible struggle betwixt his
pride and his love for his only daughter, yet in the end he could not
choose but give way: for was it not a greater dishonour to leave his
daughter in captivity among the Turks than to acknowledge her marriage
with Baptisto, who, if poor, at least came of noble family? Moreover,
she was married to him and the marriage could not be undone, so that
even if Baptisto remained in captivity she could never make a great
alliance. Therefore it was that he gave way, and the last I saw of them
was the three going away very lovingly together. I was enraged that
there could be so much ingratitude in the world as to leave me, whom
they seemed not to think of, behind. Had I guessed at it, I would have
informed the Turks of the great riches of the Capellini. But it was too
late, and I was left on board the galley without hope of release, with
the agony of disappointment, and the fear that as soon as we returned
to Algiers I should be recognised and punished for my attempted escape.
The Rais, or Captain-general, was now satisfied with the success of the
expedition, and accordingly the fleet set sail for their respective
ports. But my estate was of the most miserable, for I greatly feared
that I should be recognised when I arrived, and punished, as I have
already related. There was a great concourse at the landing place,
of men quiet and dignified, and of women giving their shrill cries
of joy or ululations. As soon as the prisoners were taken ashore, I
observed the same renegado that deceived so many when I was first
taken; and who, I found, had been on board one of the galleys buying
the slaves from their captors, now busy among the prisoners marshalling
his purchases: and in the bitterness of my heart I bethought me of a
tale to relate whereby I might revenge the Christians he had deceived.
Accordingly, chained at the oar as I was, I cried out in a loud voice
(for by this time I had learned to speak their language so as to be
understood), that I had something to say unto the Dey; at which no
man durst affront me, but my chains were knocked off, and I was led
into the Presence. After that I had made my salaam, I was bidden to
speak; whereupon I said: O Dey! this slave of thine, this Emir Hassan,
hath deceived thee, for there was a great beauty among the prisoners,
whose face was as the full moon, with joined eyebrows, and a body like
the willow wand, so that the sight of her would ravish all beholders.
And then one stood forward, whom I had instructed, and recited the
following verses, which I will do into English:
Her cheeks were smooth and tender, she was delicate and fair,
Like to a pearl hid in its shell, suffused with colour rare;
Her shape like to an Alif, and her smile a medial Mim,
Her body like a willow wand, slender, tall and slim.
Like arrows sharp her glances shot to search out every part,
To water turned the liver, and made roast meat of the heart;
Her eyebrows like inverted Nouns, and arched as Rustem’s bow,
Like Sad beneath her eyes shone out in dulcet tender glow.
Hair in abundance decked her head, and hung down to her feet;
None e’er created lovelier, or for a king more meet!
Praise Allah, who created her a creature of such grace,
And those who sold her for a price, may their lot be disgrace!
This one, I continued, was reserved for thee, O Dey! but the Emir
Hassan loved gold better than thee, and he permitted her to be
ransomed. At this the Dey was very angry, and straightway ordered that
the renegado should be cast into prison, and all his goods plundered,
for none could gainsay what I had said. As for me, the Dey took me
into his particular service, and so I escaped the penalty that my old
master, who had recognised me, was prepared to impose upon me through
the cadi or magistrate of the town.
And here I saw several of the prisoners who were wicked or weak of
heart abjure their religion; and the manner thereof was this. The
renegado is set upon a horse, with his face towards the tail and a bow
and arrow in his hand. After him is carried a picture of the Nazarene
Christ, as they call Him, feet upwards, at which he draws his bow
with the arrow therein; and thus he rides to the place of abjuration,
cursing the father that begat him, the mother that bore him, his
kindred, and his country. Then, coming to the place of oath-taking,
he says: ‘Allah il Allah, Mahomet Rasoul Allah’; and afterwards he is
called a renegado, that is a Christian denying Christ, and turned Turk;
of which sort there are more in Algiers and in Barbary than natural
Turks.
Among the slaves of the Emir Hassan who were seized by the Dey was one,
a Spaniard, with whom I became intimate in this wise. We two, with
many others, were employed as ferrashes, that is as carpet spreaders,
sweepers, and so forth; for in the summer the Dey would desert his
palace and live in tents in airy places where he could best catch the
cooler breezes that blew from the north, and then the whole work of the
camp would be carried on by us. Now, the Ferrash Bashi, or chief of the
Ferrashes, was a Dutchman who had been a pirate, mainly preying upon
those Spanish vessels which came richly laden from the settlements of
Peru, and which, when they had passed all the dangers of the sea and
were near their port, were cruelly taken almost within sight of land:
and these pirates having fast ships, the heavy Spanish men-of-war could
seldom come up with them before they had taken their prizes. I suppose
from the nature of his former vocation the Dutchman looked upon all
Spaniards as his enemies: but whatever might be the reason, he treated
my friend Pablo with a cruelty and brutishness that must have been hard
to bear, as without doubt it was hard for me with the blood of a free
Englishman in me to look upon with coolness. One day this man, who was
called Hendrik vander Stok, being in a more surly mood than usual,
found some fault with the manner in which Pablo had discharged those
duties which appertained to him; and with his courbash or whip of hide
chastised him so terribly that he lay there in his blood without sense
or motion. When I saw this, and saw that even then he would not give
over his blows, I spoke to him and bade him desist; whereupon in his
blind rage he turned and spat in my face, at the same time striking me
with his whip. But the next moment he lay without motion on the ground,
for I had given him a blow behind the ear, and he fell like an ox. He
never moved again, but none but the slaves saw him fall, and therefore
I escaped punishment, for they all hated him, and gave the Turks to
understand that he had died of an apoplexy (and, indeed, he had died
of a stroke) which they the more readily believed seeing that he had
no wound; and moreover they would not be troubled to inquire more
nearly, for they held a slave’s life as a thing of nought. When Pablo
recovered, and learnt that it was I who of my generosity and disregard
of danger of my life had bravely saved his, his gratitude knew no
bounds. Thenceforth he would endeavour to do all my work for me, and
to give him satisfaction, I let him do as much as he could without
observation of the Turks. He would also bring me what food he was able,
which was very acceptable, seeing that our allowance was but scanty,
and would talk with me in his own tongue, which was the only one he
understood, but which I soon picked up by the help of the Italian which
I already knew. He had a lute, which he may have brought with him for
all I know, upon which he played not without skill; and in this he was
encouraged by the Turks; for, although the music of these heathens (if
it may be called by that name) resembles not at all those sweet sounds
which ever delight the ears of polite men and Christians, yet the music
of the Spaniards is somewhat betwixt that of Christians and of Turks.
One day I heard him discourse these verses:
How long, O Death, must I then on thee call?
To most, alas! thou comest all too soon:
To young, to old, to rich and poor, to all
Thou art a curse--to me alone a boon.
Yet, nathless, I’d not have thee take me here:
For if my country I may never see,
That beauteous land that still I hold most dear,
Let it at least afford a grave to me!
My bones can never rest in foreign earth;
If death be sleep, ’tis therefore I can’t die,
Enshrined in that dear soil that gave me birth
Alone ’tis possible for me to lie!
In mine own land the seasons come and go,
Spring blossoms bloom, and autumn leaves do fall;
The Sun still shines, the gentle rivers flow,
And birds still make the woodlands musical.
My absence makes no discontinuance there,
The waters of oblivion close me o’er:
Friends I had once that used to speak me fair--
Now I am gone, they think of me no more.
And yet, not all--there’s one still thinks of me,
Still weeps for me, still watches, and still prays;
And, in my dreams, her tear-dimmed face I see,
That gives me strength to bear my evil days.
This made me curious to hear his history, which without much pressing
he related as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF PABLO FRAXADO Y RIBADENEYRA_
My father’s name was Antonio Fraxado de Castañeda, and he occupied the
office of master of the mint in the ancient town of Segovia. My mother
came of the noble family of Ribadeneyra, but her I cannot remember,
for she died while I was yet an infant, so that my only experience
of a mother’s love was from my old Catalan nurse, who also served as
housekeeper to my father in his modest dwelling on the banks of the
Eresma, hard by the mint, whose name was Christiana Irurosqui, which
was shortened into la Cria. The household was completed by a boy of
Moorish blood of about my own age, who came the Lord knows whence,
called Pedro el Moro, who served as my playfellow when young, and my
servant when he grew older. My father was a man of retired habits who
seemed to have no friends save a priest called Dom Vicente, who used to
sup with him at least once in the seven days, and with whom he loved to
talk of the nature of the things of this earth, and their virtues and
qualities; for, indeed, it was shrewdly suspected that my father sought
for the philosophers stone, and even dabbled a little in the black art.
Nay, some went so far as to assert that el Moro was a devil that he had
called up, and who now was only biding his time to fly away with his
soul. And yet my father was a pious man who faithfully fulfilled all
the duties of our holy church, and fasted when there were fast days
(which, alas! I thought, came with undue frequency); but nevertheless
it was fortunate for him that no accident had happened at the mill,
or it might have gone hard with him. I loved him greatly, but perhaps
feared him more, for he seldom took any notice of me, and never unbent
before me, or played with me, much less fondled me. Yet when he had
occasion to speak to me he was always kind, and I never had a harsh
word from him.
When I had arrived at the age of nine years, Dom Vicente suggested to
him that it was time that my education should be seen to, and himself
undertook to instruct me in the rudiments of the Latin tongue, for I
was a great favourite of his, and he hoped to make a priest of me.
Moreover he taught me of the hidden secrets of nature, of the precious
stones, and how they engender of the sap or juice of other stones
distilled within crevices; though some, as he told me, who take upon
themselves to sift more narrowly the secrets of nature, affirm that
they are sublimed from the sap or marrow of the precious metals. Of
their divers properties he told me that which they call Nicolaus maketh
him that weareth it sad and melancholic, and so wrests the spirits and
inward parts that it stirs up wonderful passions in the mind. He also
talked of a stone called Opal, most fickle and changing in colour,
which maketh as many perish as wear it; and also of another called
Natron, which, as is wonderful to relate, being cast upon the water
straightway kindles into flame without the help of fire; a thing rather
mystical than agreeing with our capacity. There is also the Ruby, which
chaseth away melancholy, prevents dreams and illusions at night, and
serves as a counterpoison against corrupt air. The Sapphire represents
fire in its most vehement heat, as also the azure sky, being most
calm and clear. For the use of physic, there is no stone of greater
price, seeing that it is of so great virtue by reason of its coldness
that it presently staunches bleeding of the nose, heals the eyes, and,
if placed on the tongue of them that suffer from fever, mortifies the
disease. It also serves as a counterpoison against all venoms, and
defends all infections of the air from such as wear it in pestilent
times. The Hyacinth defends from thunders. The Turquoise chaseth away
all troubles from the brain. He also told me many wonderful things of
fishes: one of the most wondrous things, so miraculous as to be almost
incredible, is that those dumb creatures do lift themselves out of
their moist element to pierce the air as birds do with their wings.
There is also the fish which is called in Latin the Torpedo, which
hath a hidden property which is very strange, for if a man do touch
it with an angle rod, she enchanteth forthwith his arm, so that often
time he is constrained to abandon his prize. There are also fish of the
likeness of men, saving that their skin is like to the slough of an
eel; they have two little horns on the head, and on either hand have
but two fingers. The feet end in a tail, and on the arms are two wings
as a bald mouse hath. Furthermore, he taught of the nature of plants,
as, for instance, of the herb Basil, which, if a man chew and place
under a stone, will straightway engender a scorpion. Also the herb
called Pulicaris hath such a cold virtue that being cast into boiling
water it will kill the heat thereof. The Squilla, if hanged in a house,
delivereth men from charms and sorceries, and the Parsley, by a certain
secret property, engendereth in us the falling sickness. Furthermore,
the Consyre hath so great a virtue to knit and make to grow together
fresh hurts, that being put into a pot with fresh pieces of flesh,
it will knit and join them together. These and many other things he
taught me, very curious, but which I cannot now call to mind; and
being thus well tutored in all learning by Dom Vicente, yet unwilling
to take orders as he wished, my father set me to work in the mill in
the purification of the metals, in which the knowledge that I had
gained was of use. But I liked not the occupation, and would steal away
whenever I was able to the more congenial pursuit of a fair face that
had caught my roving sight through a window grill, the lovely Dolores
Escañuela, who was unfortunately an heiress, and therefore sought after
by all the gallants of Segovia. Scarcely a night passed but what she
was serenaded by some young blade, so that the town musicians had no
rest, neither had she, without she stopped her ears with wool, and what
young maiden would do that to shut out the sweet incense of a serenade?
Frequent were the brawls which took place under her window, insomuch
that her father made complaint to the alcalde; but the alguazils durst
not interfere, for many had their heads broken. As for the young
gallants, it was almost an act of suicide to serenade her unless in a
party of ten or twelve, when some very pretty fighting generally took
place. For my part, I had no friends; for besides the bad odour in
which my father was held for his reputed dealings in the black art,
his retired habits prevented him from making the acquaintance of his
fellow-townsmen, and therefore prevented me from being on familiar
terms with their sons. Nevertheless, so great were the attractions of
Dolores’ charms, that I too, alone as I was, ventured to serenade her
in the following verses:
Alas, arise!
And cast thy eyes
On me, love stricken, that dares thy feet to kiss;
Ah, pity take!
And for love’s sake
List to my suit, and drown me all in bliss
I scarce dare raise
My voice in praise
Of the charms with which so richly thou’rt endued;
Thou wilt not deign
A humble swain
That of so many gallant swains are wooed!
Nathless a youth,
That loves in truth,
Beyond what words can e’er to thee express,
Can never find
Thy heart unkind
To leave him in such dire unhappiness!
Ah, sweetest one!
I am undone:
Give me some sign that thou wilt look on me!
I cannot live
If thou’lt not give
Some token of thy gentle charity!
As I came to the last verse, what was my joy to see a white flower drop
at my feet! I caught it up and covered it with kisses, and was about to
depart in the seventh heaven of happiness, when a band of the retainers
of the Count de Villegas, who was also one of Dolores’ suitors, rushed
upon me, so that I had scarce time to draw my sword to defend myself.
However, I set my back to the wall and did what I could. El Moro had
fled at the first onset, so there was I alone to thrust and parry as
best I could against six; but the odds were too great, and in a short
time I fell covered with blood from several wounds. Undoubtedly I
should have been killed had not several alguazils, hearing the noise
of clashing steel, come just at that moment to the end of the street,
taking good care to leave the other end free for escape, and letting
their presence be known by their flashing lanterns, by striking their
wands on the pavement, and their shouts of ‘Seize the peacebreakers!’
and the like; when, seeing that the Count de Villegas’ men had fled,
and there finding me stretched upon the ground for dead, they were
for carrying me to prison for a brawler. Fortunately for me, Dolores’
father just then came out, who, after examining me, bound up my wounds
with his daughter’s assistance; and recognising me, ordered some of his
servants to carry me home. My father was much grieved at the calamity
which had befallen me, and showed more tenderness than I had hitherto
thought he had. After applying some healing balsam, he and la Cria
set themselves to watching by my bedside in turns, where I was soon
in a raging fever. By the great care of my father, and with the aid
of a good constitution, in about ten days I had so far recovered as
to be out of danger of my life; and as soon as I was strong enough, I
searched through the garments that I had worn on that fateful night
to find my guerdon, the flower which I had thrust into my bosom before
the attack; and though my search was in vain, I nevertheless found
to my great joy a handkerchief embroidered with the first letter of
Dolores’ name, which I supposed she had used for staunching my wounds.
My father still watched by me, and great was my desire to embrace him
and open my heart to him. I think that he would have been pleased
had I done so; but as I grew better, so his stiffness grew upon him
again, and before I could muster courage to address him the opportunity
was lost, he had returned to his ordinary occupations, and the old
relation between us of outward coldness was resumed. It was not so
with la Cria. She was never tired of fondling me, and wishing all the
foulest deaths she could think of to fall on the house of Villegas,
to be followed by eternal punishment in the lowest hell hereafter. To
Dom Vicente, who was a frequent visitor, she would confess her sin of
uncharitableness as he told her that it was; I say, she would confess
it to him every time, in order that she might have a free conscience
to sin again in the same manner directly afterwards. My father wished
to complain before the corregidor of the unprovoked attack, but Dom
Vicente with much ado dissuaded him; for, as he pointed out, in any
case the Count de Villegas would bring all his influence to bear, and
it was not likely that the corregidor would withstand that at the suit
of a plain citizen. He forbore to tell him his more potent reason, that
the vulgar of the town looked askaunt upon him for his supposed magical
powers, and disliked him while they feared him. My father, who was a
man of sense, acknowledged that the advice was good; nevertheless he
fretted that he could not be avenged, and all the more since anything
that disturbed the usual placid course of his life made him quite
unable to follow those pursuits which he so much loved. Had his means
been sufficiently great, he would say, to supply those costly earths,
precious stones, and alembics, and so forth, that he found needful
for his studies, he had left the neighbourhood of cities, and would
have retired to some quiet mountain hermitage, where, undisturbed
by the distractions of the world and the necessity of mingling with
vulgar souls, he might commune with Nature, and win those secrets from
her reluctant hand for which he so greatly thirsted and so patiently
laboured. But, what avails talk like this, he added; there is no peace
in this world. He who hath no relations to distract him, no one to
consider but himself, will pine for the sympathy of his kind. The work
he has done, even the fame he may win, turns to bitterness and gall. He
will ask himself of what use to him is a name known far and wide, to be
remembered even after its bearer is no more, a mere breath associated
with the idea that once a living man owned it, and that too would die
in a few years and be forgotten, only to be remembered now and again by
the curious delvers in the history of the forgotten past. If, on the
other hand, our unfortunate lot gave us friends or relatives to love,
did not their pains, their accidents, their griefs or their misdoings,
fall upon us as though we had the capacity to bear the ills of many
with the physical body of but one? But la Cria had no patience with him
when he was in one of these moods. It is not for us, she would say,
to ask why we are here more than anywhere else, or to repine at the
position in which we are placed. Cry when you are moved to tears, laugh
when you are moved to mirth, hate your enemies and love your friends.
These were the maxims upon which she acted, and accordingly made el
Moro’s life a burden to him with her gibes against him for running
away, in spite of his oaths that he went but to obtain succour,
perceiving that so he might do his master the greater service. On the
other hand, she scraped acquaintance with Dolores’ duenna, and would
bring me news of my mistress which so gladdened my heart that I made a
rapid recovery.
As soon as I was able I went to the Church of the Seven Sorrows,
which I knew was frequented by Dolores, and to my great joy I saw
her, recognising her in spite of her veil, for what veil will not a
lover’s eye pierce? I knelt beside her, and had hardly the patience
to let pass one quarter of an hour before I addressed her. I saw by
her mantling blush that she recognised me as I spoke. ‘Fair lady,’ I
began, ‘it seems that the Saints take pity on those that truly love,
since I have the felicity to meet you here, the sight of whom is life.
I beseech you excuse me if, having ended my devotions, I begin to pray
you to take pity upon me, whose flame is so ardent and affection so
passionate, as either I must live yours or not die my own.’ To this
Dolores answered: ‘Sir, since your devotions can neither be pleasing
to God nor profitable to your soul if you come here merely to have
speech with me, so it would be equally sinful in me to reply to your
civil speeches either as your present action or real merit deserves.’
I was not so great a novice in the art of love as to be put off with
the first rebuff, but rather seeing that the perfection of her mind
corresponded with the beauty of her form, resolved to return to the
charge, and therefore boarded her thus: ‘Sweet lady, where can truth
be more fitly spoken than in the temple of truth, or where else could
my hard lot afford me an opportunity of speech with one who hath the
power, so great is my devotion, to make me brave all the evil of this
world or the next? If you will not have me speak to you here, until,
as I ardently hope, you condescend to plight your vows to me before
the altar, at least give an opportunity of speaking to you elsewhere,
that I may assure you of my unfeigned love and undying devotion.’ At
this, Dolores, repenting her of her harshness towards me, replied:
‘Noble sir, when I am as well acquainted with your heart as with your
speeches I may perhaps pardon your indiscretion in thus addressing me,
and since I may have wronged your merits and virtues, if you will be at
the wicket gate of my father’s house soon after the first watch of the
night, I will give you then an opportunity to explain your intent at
greater length.’ So saying, she bowed to me, and going forth, left me
in so happy and eager a state that I scarce knew what I did, but only
that the day seemed to be the longest that I had ever passed.
It is needless to say that the hour found me at the wicket gate, but I
had hardly got there when there was a great bruit or noise of clashing
of naked weapons in the same street at its further end, and I clearly
perceived that it was a brawl between two parties of pretenders to
Dolores’ favour, who, being on the same errand intent, had there
met. In haste to escape their observation I knocked at the gate, but
scarcely had I done so than one being hurt in the skirmish broke
out of the press, and fleeing towards the place where I stood, fell
down dead at my feet, even as the duenna, the confidante of Dolores,
opened the wicket to let me enter. She straightway conducted me into
a garderobe or inner chamber, where I hardly passed three words to my
dear mistress, whom I found there awaiting me, when we heard a great
noise and hurly-burly in the street of the alguazils, who, finding the
dead body at the door, inquiring of the neighbours were told that the
murderer had but now slipped into the house before which the body lay.
Whereupon the captain began to bounce at the door with such assistance
of his company that we were struck with fear at the uproar, I for her
honour, while she was in terror for my safety lest they might search
the house and take me for the murderer, notwithstanding that I knew
nothing of it. With her ready woman’s wit Dolores bade me instantly
follow her, and leading me into a manservant’s chamber then disused,
showed me how I might mount to the midst of the chimney, which I did
just as her father was parleying with the officers who insisted on
searching the house. I had nothing to support me but a narrow bar
of iron upon which there was barely space to stand, while Dolores
retired to her chamber, from which she presently issued, feigning to
be disturbed from her slumber, and exclaiming at the indecency of such
a disturbance at such an hour. But the captain was forced by what the
neighbours had said (though half against his will) to continue his
search, and receiving the keys from Señor Escañuela, began to ransack
each corner and cabinet in the house, in which he omitted nothing, for
no coffer escaped without its bottom turned upward, and every bed and
bolster was tried with the point of a sharp poignard. When they came
to the chamber where I was hid in the chimney I would have cursed my
folly, had my love not been so great, for venturing thus upon one
of the most dangerous enterprises that can be undertaken in Spain,
and risking the honour of my mistress by my discovery; and, as evils
never come alone, after they had well searched the chamber, which had
very little furniture in it, though fortunately not bethinking them
that one might be perched up in the chimney, that being the last part
of the house examined, the captain was dissatisfied at not having
found anyone, and so proposed to set a guard for the night and to
continue his search at the return of daylight. To that end, despite
the protestations of Dolores’ father, two men were left on guard, and
what was worse, these men quartered themselves in the very chamber
where I hung up in the chimney, as being one of those in the house
not at present in use. You may well imagine that Dolores was terribly
distressed at this, and all the more that she feared, as I did, that
since the night was cold the men would desire to kindle a fire,
wherefore she gave special charge that no fuel should be supplied to
them, but that if they wished it a pan of hot coal, after the manner of
us Spaniards, could be placed in the midst of their chamber. Hearing
these two wretches establish themselves, I had almost given myself up
for lost, but that I might not for the reputation of my mistress which
I valued more than my life. I had grown during this time exceedingly
tired of standing upon my perch, hardly recovered in strength as I was
from my severe wounds; moreover, the smell of the soot and the cold air
excited in me a very great desire to sneeze, which I durst not gratify
and yet scarce could stay it. Soon after I heard my mistress enter
the chamber again with two of her women, and proffer wine to the men,
in reward, as she said, for their services in guarding her. This they
took very graciously, but knowing what I did, methought she had put a
sleeping-draught therein, which, indeed, turned out to be the case, for
presently they slept and soundly, but I durst not come down until her
duenna, whom she had sent there to spy, seeing that the guards were
governed by the potion, bade me descend, which I joyfully did, and
withdrew quietly to another chamber where I found my dear mistress.
Our common adventure had brought us nearer together, for the danger we
had mutually suffered and were not yet escaped from, had swept away
the artifices of coyness, our hearts seemed already to sympathise and
burn in the flame of mutual affection. She entertained my vows and
speeches of unalterable love with many blushes which came and went,
casting a roseate veil over the milk-white lilies of her complexion,
which, together with her soft eyes, her delicate stature, and the
many perfections of her beauty, confirmed the subserviency of my zeal
and wedded constancy to my love. With many protestations we took our
leaves, but, impatient of delay, the very next day I waited upon her
father, and in due terms requisite for me to give and him to receive,
demanded his daughter in marriage. Señor Escañuela, while thanking
me for the honour, which, as he protested, I had done him, replied:
‘Señor, our family is much beholden to you for the flattering proposal
which you make, and words hardly suffice me to express the pleasure I
should experience by the union of our two families in marriage, which
is as much an honour to me as a condescension in you. Nevertheless,
much as I may regret it, I have already pledged my daughter Dolores to
the Count de Villegas, and my pledged word will not permit me to alter
my decision in your favour. Therefore, señor, I am your humble servant,
and must beg you in future to put away from your thoughts all notion of
my daughter.’ To this I could only answer: ‘Illustrissimo, I am your
humble and obedient servant,’ and so take my leave, knowing full well
that he preferred the titled and rich Count de Villegas to poor me, who
had nothing, no title and no riches. Nevertheless my love was so great
and the encouragement my mistress had given me was such, that I was
resolved not to give her up without a struggle, and therefore I indited
an epistle to her as follows, which I entrusted to el Moro to deliver
to her, who, however cowardly he might be, possessed a discretion and a
subtlety that few could equal.
‘Madam,’ I wrote, ‘though your father prove obdurate in entertaining
the hope with which I burn, yet so great and inextinguishable are the
flames of my desire, that I cannot tamely acquiesce in his decision to
give you to another whom I cannot think worthy of those transcendent
beauties. That your charms have vanquished me is nothing, and would
give me no claim to your consideration; but you have deigned to
distinguish me from the common crowd, and in so doing have raised me to
that degree among the competitors to your favour, that I now consider
myself the equal and even superior of any grandee in Spain. Oh, grant
me, divine being, some confirmation of my pretensions, that my fainting
heart be again raised by thy word, for without thee nothing is left
to me to live for, while the hope of thy favour will give me strength
to fight against paternal objections, my superiors in rank or riches,
or even the devil himself.’ This letter I despatched by el Moro, who,
by feigning an attachment to Dolores’ maid, had no great difficulty in
delivering it to her own hand without the observation of her parents.
By the same means I received the following answer: ‘Señor, it is with
blushes and hesitation that I so far transgress maidenly decorum as
to answer your letter; and the more since I fear that my conduct in
giving you an opportunity of private converse may be misconstrued.
Nevertheless, it would show ill manners in me to pass over your letter
in silence, since it plainly comes from the heart of an honourable
gentleman. I may freely confess that your person is not unpleasing
to me, and that, were it my parents’ wish, I might be prepared to
entertain your flattering proposal; but since you have not succeeded in
obtaining from them the confirmation of your wishes, it only remains
for me to say that I will never consent to a union with the Count
de Villegas.’ To this I replied by the same means as follows: ‘Fair
mistress! Ah, madam, though I be not so fortunate as to please thy
parents, yet love is no crime to be visited by thy divine displeasure,
when thou thyself art the bright object of my affection. Though thy
parents, swayed rather by their ambition than by dislike to me, do
not favour my suit, yet the union of two souls should not be governed
by Mammon, but rather by Cupid, the gentle god of love. Hymen ever
joyfully confirms the union of them that are invited to join themselves
by Cupid, and as constantly refuses to bless those introduced to him by
pride or avarice. Give then scope to thy gentle heart, dear lady, that
hath already rescued me from the death nearly brought upon me by rivals
for thy affection, and confirm my life, which is otherwise valueless,
by the hope of thy dear hand.’
Though I succeeded in corresponding with Dolores without the knowledge
of her parents, yet this correspondence could not be so subtle as to
hope for concealment from the eyes of a lover, and so the Count de
Villegas was not without intelligence of what was going on, of which he
took good care that Señor Escañuela should be informed, who thereupon
gave instructions that el Moro should be prevented from coming to his
house. At the same time the Count de Villegas sent me the following
challenge:
‘Since I am given to understand that thy baseness doth not fear to
aspire to the incomparable beauty of the phœnix of her sex and bright
star of beauty, my mistress Dolores, if thou dost not instantly give
up all pretension to her hand, doubt not that my sword is prepared to
chastise thy insolence. Either, therefore, return me an answer under
thy hand, that thou art prepared henceforth to avoid all communication
with my mistress, or be prepared to-morrow morning to meet me without
the walls with rapier and sword, if thou hast any pretence to be
thought to have the breeding of a gentleman, to justify thy audacious
resolution.--+Villegas.+’
To this I bade the messenger reply that I would not fail to meet
him according to his desire and appointment. I bore this challenge
privately from my father, and all the world except a young gentleman,
one of my few acquaintances, whom I chose to be my second in the
quarrel, named Señor Velasco, a valiant and true friend, who very
readily engaged himself to me, so that he and the Marquis de Campofrio,
the second of the Count de Villegas, with as much friendship as
secrecy, met in the city and resolved on the rapiers and other
ceremonies requisite in the duello. As soon as the morning appeared,
both parties were early astir, and showed themselves on the field of
battle a little before six, which was the hour appointed. The seconds
duly performed their allotted office in visiting the principals, who
cast off their doublets and drew, and so we fell to deeds. The Count
de Villegas played the first close with great wariness and coolness,
but presently warming to the business, he wounded me in the right arm,
while I gave him a thrust in the left side which did but little hurt
as it glanced along a rib. At the second encounter, the Count wounded
me betwixt the breast and shoulder, while I thrust him clean through
the left arm, which piercing his sinews and arteries, he was no longer
able to hold his poignard, and despite his resolution and courage, it
fell out of his hand, an unlooked-for disaster which did much perplex
and afflict him. Upon seeing this, disdaining to fight upon unequal
terms, I threw away my poignard also, and after a short breathing
space we again closed, when running in upon him I ran him through the
right flank and withdrawing my rapier leapt back to put myself upon a
defensive guard, but my foot slipping, I could not prevent myself from
falling to the ground. The Count following me close, and being eager
in pursuit, could not forego his advantage, and being bloodthirsty in
his revenge and forgetful of all honour, working upon the misfortune
of my fortune, he right then and there nailed me to the ground, and
withdrawing his rapier was preparing to pierce me through the heart and
so act a perpetual divorce betwixt my body and soul, when his second
unable to look on at so base an act, ran forward and turned aside his
weapon. My own second coming forward at the same time, raised me from
the ground, and the chirurgeon advancing examined my wounds, so that
the combat was put an end to.
I was conveyed to my home, and lay betwixt life and death for the
space of about a week, when an alguazil of the Inquisition came to
cite me before the Holy Tribunal upon certain charges of heresy,
and I was conveyed to a noisome cell of their prison, which, as my
father afterwards learnt, was at the instance of the false Count, who
repenting him of my life had thus accused me.
My dungeon was situated close beneath the roof, and since it was winter
I was almost perished with cold. Yet, withal, that was better than the
extreme heat of summer that I had to look forward to, for the stink and
noisomeness of the air was less in the winter. The cell was narrow,
and for that reason belike, and also perhaps because I had not yet
been put to the question, I had no fellow-prisoner. No light entered
therein save for a narrow rift in the wall high up, and no wider than
a man’s finger, but I might have had a worse apartment if it had not
been expected that my father would be willing to pay for my better
accommodation. For the same reason the order of my diet was better than
the common, for my father paid very large fees to the Holy Office for
it, and had it not been for this, in my then state of weakness with
my wounds scarcely healed, I had surely perished. And yet, easy as it
is to get into the prison of the Inquisition, few go out, for if they
have not already perished from the hardships of their imprisonment and
the torture of the question, yet they seldom go forth but clad in the
San Benito for the stake, or at the least to a life-long slavery in
the galleys. It was far otherwise with the ordinary prisoners who had
no money to bless themselves withal. Those poor creatures have a daily
allowance of half a rial from the king for their diet, which is about
equal to two sous French, out of which poor pittance is to be defrayed
their steward and laundress’s wages, and whatsoever other necessary
charges grow besides must be from thence discharged. Moreover, of this
allowance given to them by the king, not one half comes to their use,
for it passes through two or three men’s hands, to whose fingers some
of it sticks. First there is the treasurer, and then comes the steward,
then the cook, and lastly, the jailor, all of whom will have their
fees. But if the prisoner be a rich man then is his lot even worse,
for they do not suffer him in any case to better his condition out of
his own goods, which they look to for plunder, nor do they allow him
to have other than a little brown bread and cold water. No sound is
heard in those sorrowful walls, for no prisoner is allowed to raise
his voice, and some heretics that would be singing of psalms in the
vulgar tongue, for fear that they should thereby solace themselves or
let others know of their presence, had wooden bits fastened upon their
tongues, and were so compelled to silence. For this reason it happens
that father and son, husband and wife, or brother and sister, may be in
the prison-house for the space of two or three years, and neither of
them know of the other being there until the time comes of meeting on
the scaffold--if it ever comes, for the most perish in prison as I have
said, from the great filth and stench, and their corrupt and naughty
diet, or they become altered in their wits from their prolonged and
lonely imprisonment, or perchance some fever consumes them little by
little, making their living life worse than any death they could die.
Yea, so great are the cruelties of this prison, and so easily are men
cast therein at the mere whisper of an enemy, that it would confirm
these Turks in their false religion did they know and understand
thereof. Indeed, there was a certain Turk who had voluntarily forsaken
and abjured the Mahometan idolatry and was newly come into Spain to
be confirmed in the true religion, who, finding more faults and worse
sins among the Christians than he had left behind him among his own
countrymen the Moors, happening to say one day that the Mahometan law
was better than the Christian, was immediately denounced by some, and
lodged forthwith in a dungeon of the Inquisition, whence he never again
issued forth but to one of their Acts, and that only after the torture
of the rack, when he was burnt at the stake, which is a thing that
the Turks, pagans as they are, will not do, save that you revile their
religion or so-called saints.
The walls of my dungeon were written all over with the sad complaints
of prisoners that had been there before me, and though in some cases
there were blasphemous inscriptions by heretics, denying the divinity
of our Lady, or even the reality of the Blessed Host, yet for the most
part they were but the expression of their hopelessness, their trust in
God, a farewell to the world, or an invocation to death. Some of these
I remember, for I had leisure to impress them upon my memory during
my long imprisonment; and since they help to show the horror of my
suffering, and the mutability of human affairs, I will repeat them to
you. One of them ran as follows:
Erst I did live in calm content,
And passed each day in merriment;
And in my arrogance and pride,
Methought no evil could betide,
No stroke of fortune break it, nought
Save Death one day must cut it short.
Now, as the past day is the morrow,
One long agony of sorrow;
And in humbleness I sigh
To thee, Lord, to let me die!
And another:--
Ye gloomy walls whose massy stones
Such wicked actions have seen done,
What shrieks ye’ve heard, what hollow groans!
What tortures have ye looked upon!
Yet there’s no spot in all your parts
So hard as are your masters’ hearts!
The wretch whom fate doth immure here
Will ne’er go free while he has life;
Ne’er more he’ll see those he holds dear,
Ne’er bid farewell to child or wife!
An age of torment is begun,
That ne’er will end till life be done.
Oh, Virgin Mother, grant me strength
That I may be resigned to pain;
And through thy Son’s mercy at length
May unto heavenly bliss attain!
My body’s weak, then pity take
Upon me for thy dear Son’s sake!
And again:
With limbs disjointed by the rack,
And by the trough a broken back,
I hardly have sufficient breath
To breathe a quavering prayer to Death,
Can scarce my trembling limbs command
To trace these lines with palsied hand!
I pray thee, Lord, to let me die,
And so cut short my agony!
And again:
Alas, Constantia, we’ve loved long,
And hoped to pass our lives together,
But unkind fate hath proved too strong,
And ruthless our dear love doth sever
I hoped thy joys and griefs to share,
While thou didst do the same by me;
And hand in hand together fare
Through Death into Eternity.
But now, alas, in all my pain,
Thou art not by to soothe my woes,
And if we e’er shall meet again,
The God above us only knows!
About the third week of my imprisonment, when I had almost recovered
from my wounds, but was like to fall ill from the irksomeness of my
confinement and distress for my separation from Dolores, the keeper
of the prison began to question me upon the subject of my arrest, and
to ask me if I could suspect either the cause or my accuser? Having
heard my father, when he was alone with me, talking upon the wiles
of the Inquisitors, and bethinking me that the keeper would have far
greater cause to assist his masters than to take pity upon me, I
answered very guardedly, though with seeming ingenuousness, that I was
entirely ignorant of both the one and the other. Upon this he urged me
to confess anything that I could think of, and to petition the Holy
Fathers for a day of hearing, in order that my case might be disposed
of. But knowing somewhat of their tricks, and of how they ensnare the
unwary, I replied that I was at their disposal, for them to do with me
as they pleased. At this reply he could not conceal his displeasure,
and it was not until fourteen days afterwards that I was cited before
the Consistory. They then spoke to me as though I was merely before
them to discharge a _pro-forma_ accusation, and bade me tell them
all I knew, in order that they might send me back to my own house.
This they did, hoping that I might unawares confess to some fault, or
accuse some other, perhaps my father; and they earnestly charged me
therefore to disburden my conscience, as they called it, persuading
me that they went about nought else but to do me good for the very
love and mere compassion which they had for me. When I humbly replied
that I could think of no reasonable cause why anyone should denounce
me to them, they answered that they could mete out sharp justice to
the contumacious, and so sent me back to my cell. In the meanwhile
they sent an officer to me called the ‘tutor,’ whom they appoint, as
they pretend, to advise with the prisoner how he may best defend his
case, but who in reality is only a spy who betrays many, and even the
innocent, to his masters. I merely repeated to him what I had said
before, and although he urged me to put my trust in him for that he
was appointed to defend me, which he could not do unless I would deal
candidly with him, yet I knew better, even had I been guilty, than to
trust him. On the third day I was called before the Inquisitors again,
who demanded of me if I was now resolved to make a clean breast of the
affair, with an earnest request of me to do so for my own welfare,
after their accustomed manner. If I would not, they threatened to use
extremity towards me of what they could do by law, by which they mean
extreme tormenting and mangling of men, but finding that I had nothing
to confess, or, as they would have it, that I would confess nothing,
they remitted me again to prison, and upon some information of my
intended escape, which I discovered from the keepers’ inquiries, I was
now put into an underground dungeon, which was even worse than the one
in which I had been hitherto confined. As the Inquisitors could get no
confession out of me, and moreover had no witnesses against me save the
Count de Villegas, whom they knew to bear a grudge against me, for the
reasons known to you, and since they had heard of the duello between
us, and therefore suspected his testimony the more, they forbore to
put me to the question, as they call it, that is to the rack and other
tortures, though they rehearsed all the several torments to me as
terribly as they could; and, indeed, I had almost fainted at their
description, and the sight thereof. The place is a deep dungeon beneath
the earth, with many doors to pass through ere we came to it, in order
that those who are put to it should not be heard to shriek or cry. On
the one side are raised seats with a canopy, where the Inquisitors are
seated with their clerks, and the links being lighted in their sockets
on the walls, they take their seats, and the prisoners are brought
forth. Here he sees, as I did, in that dim and flickering light, the
Inquisitors sitting in their red robes on the one side, flanked by
their familiars in their gowns of white, with hoods which cover their
faces, making them to resemble so many spirits or devils come to enjoy
his tortures. The executioner, a brawny knave, stands hard by his
instrument, which is in the midst of the apartment, clad all over in
a close-fitting garment of black canvas, with a long black hood which
reaches over so as to cover his face. The chief Inquisitor then urges
him to speak the truth freely and voluntarily, otherwise it will be at
his own peril. For if his arm or leg be broken in the rack, or if he
receive other injuries so that he die thereof (for they mean not to
deal gently with him), let him blame no one but himself; and so they
think to salve their consciences. Then is he stripped to the skin, and
his hands bound with a cord which passes over a pulley, so that he may
be hoisted up. His feet likewise are weighted with heavy weights, and
in this plight is he again summoned to tell them all he knows, which
nevertheless does not satisfy them, but they sign to the executioner
to hoist the poor wretch, and while he thus hangs, they fall to their
persuasions once again, commanding the executioner to hoist him to the
very beam till his head touch the pulley. Then, if he will not accuse
both himself and all his acquaintance, they command to let him down
again, and twice the weight that was afore to be affixed to his feet,
when he is again hoisted, and suffered to hang a good while, which
seems every minute an age to him, such is his great and momentarily
increasing agony; every sinew in his body being strained, until, as
most often happens, he swoons for his intolerable pain. Then the leech
who stands by, not to cure, indeed, as is their office in less holy
places, but merely to prolong his capacity for suffering, the leech,
I say, gives orders to lower him down again, and after sousing him
with cold water, administers a cordial, and then is the wretch again
questioned. In his then state, though he be innocent, yet racked and
dazed as he is, if he be able to speak at all he will now say anything
that they wish, and one of the familiars leaning over him repeats aloud
after him the confession that he can scarce whisper. If he be rich and
they merely require an excuse to plunder him of all his possessions,
this will satisfy them; but if, as is more often the case, they hope
through him to get others within their net, they again give orders to
hoist him, and bid the executioners so to jog the ropes that every limb
is disjointed: arms, shoulders, back, and legs torn from their sockets,
and the afflicted parts then swelling, the weights tell with more
excruciating force. Then they begin to rail upon him, calling him dog
and heretic, that will stand so obstinately in concealing the truth;
and in this pitiful plight, half dead and more, if he pray them to let
him down, promising to tell them somewhat, after he has said what he
can, he is worse handled than before, because they think that now only
he begins to broach his matters. For as soon as his tale is at an end
they begin afresh to exhort, to threat, and to rack him, giving charge
to haul him up and let him down again as I have already described,
until the leech signifies by a private sign that if he suffer any
more now his spirit will presently depart, and so he will escape out
of their hands; when they leave him and let him down for that time,
demanding of the executioner (to fright him), whether his other
instruments be ready? To which the executioner answers that they be
ready, but that he has not brought them with him. ‘Then see,’ they say,
‘that they be ready by to-morrow, and look that nothing be wanting, for
we shall try one way or another to get the truth from this heretic.’
Thereupon they rise and go their way, while the leech restores the
sufferer’s limbs as best he may, putting his arms and legs in their
right joints again (if the swelling permit) and so he is carried back
into his cell.
After two or three days are past he is again put to the question, and
finds all ready as before; when, being bound to the rack, they again
straitly fall to persuade him to utter somewhat, wherein, if he answers
nothing, they carry him back to prison, but if he says ought, then in
the hopes of getting more from him they again put him to the rack,
and while he hangs bind his thighs and mid-leg together tightly with
small but very strong cord, and then drive in wedges betwixt until the
cords are hidden in the flesh; a very extreme and terrible torment. In
this plight the poor soul is left for some hours until his legs almost
mortify and the pain is beyond endurance. Nevertheless, they cease not
to persuade and to entreat him, but if he still prove obstinate they
employ another device the name of which is ‘_Buriorum Aselli_,’ and
the manner of it is this: he is laid upon his back upon a trough of
massy timber, across which just below his shoulders is a bar, so that
his back may not settle to the bottom and he may have the less ease.
When he is laid thereon, his arms, legs, and thighs are bound with very
stout small cords, which they afterwards strain with sticks so that
they pierce the flesh almost to the bone, insomuch that the cords can
no longer be seen. Then they take a piece of fine linen, large enough
to cover both his mouth and nose, and pour upon it water in a thin
stream which bears down the linen into his mouth and throat so as to
suffocate him, and yet he cannot move, so that when they pluck it out
from the bottom of his throat, as they do many times to see whether he
will answer their questions, the cloth is dyed with his blood and he
suffers death by this torment many times over. All this was shown and
explained to me, and I was led back to my cell almost dead with fear.
Lying thus in my new cell, which, as I have said, was changed, for
some suspicion of my jailors, from the attics to a deep underground
dungeon, trembling for the fear of what I had seen which I had too much
reason to dread might be my fate, with but the cold hard stone for my
pillow, I had nought to sustain me but the memory of the moments I had
passed with Dolores, tormenting myself with the doubt lest she might
give way to the wishes of her father and the importunities of the Count
de Villegas. I went over in my mind all her words, and still more her
looks and involuntary signs of love, torturing myself with the idea
that they were but signs of common politeness, and that, though she
might like me, yet did she not care for me to that degree that she
would sacrifice her peace for my sake. How long I lay thus I had lost
count, but it was certainly night, for my jailor had long since brought
me my evening meal of beans or chickpeas boiled in oil, and also my
pipkin of water; when presently I heard, as it were beneath me, a
sound as of a pick plied with regular blows. To be sure I had heard it
for some time, but it had not arrested my attention until now when I
began to wonder as it came nearer what it might portend. Then I heard
a mighty blow upon a stone at my feet; my heart leapt to my mouth,
for, indeed, the terrors I had gone through and my long imprisonment
had somewhat wasted my mettle, and I had almost shrieked aloud when
the stone without further warning disappeared, leaving merely a cavity
where it had been. I gazed intently, waiting to see what might happen,
but all was silent for a time, and then I thought that indeed my wits
had left me, for the sufferings I had gone through, for I seemed to
hear my father’s voice, and lo! his head appeared as if it were rising
through the pavement. I think that it was the indescribable look of
tender pity that his face bore which quieted me and drove away my
fear; I began to think that I had died and that my father had come
to deliver me from the persecutors of this earth and to bring me to
heavenly bliss, but my senses left me, and I knew no more until I found
myself in a little dark chamber hardly illumined by a solitary candle,
which only served to show my father’s face bending over me. I closed
my eyes again, and then I heard his voice bidding me to remain quiet,
and assuring me that I was now in safety and with him. Then he held
a cordial to my lips, which revived me so that I could sit up and
partake of food which he had prepared for me. When I had finished, I
begged him to tell me where I was, and he answered me as follows.
‘You know, my son, that I have long studied the secrets handed down to
us by the Moors, who once were all-powerful in this country; secrets
which, so learnedly and skilfully are the books of their philosophers
written, only those who have themselves studied much can hope to
decipher. The Sierras which we see so close to us are veined with gold
and silver; but I sought less to find the old mines which were formerly
worked there and which our unskilful forefathers left to be forgotten,
than the hiding-places which I felt sure the Moors had digged about
this town, and in which they must have left from time to time much
treasure in gold and jewels, and still more in those priceless works of
their philosophers, which they alone of all the nations of the world
in those barbarous days encouraged and honoured. From the works of one
Abucaçim, I was led to believe that our house together with the mint
had at one time been one of the defences of the town, the prison on
the opposite banks of the stream being another, and, if that were the
case, there should be a secret passage beneath the river communicating
between the two. By much study I fixed upon the point, found the
passage and chamber in which we now are, but alas! no sign of books
or treasure. However, as I began to suspect that a hiding-place in
time of need might be useful, I studied the whole of these underground
workings, and found that while on the one hand they communicate with
the mint and your prison-house, on the other a longer branch goes to a
cavern situated in the hill which, you know, lies to the south of our
city; a cavern only known to a few goatherds who have never dared to
penetrate its depths. In this place I stored a few necessaries, and
when you were arrested I made it my business to inquire as to the plan
of your prison; when, finding that the passage had formerly opened into
what is now an underground dungeon, and hearing that the cell you were
in was situated beneath the roof, I spread abroad rumours that there
was a plan of escape prepared for you, and so procured your removal to
the cell from which I rescued you. I then learned that it was resolved
also to arrest me, and therefore retired at once to my hiding-place to
which I have now happily brought you; it only remains for us to fly
the country, for I need not remind you that henceforth we shall never
be safe in Spain. Your cell shows no sign of having been entered, the
stone is replaced and is well filled in beneath so that it will not
yield a hollow sound. Probably your jailor will be suspected of having
assisted you, and will be tortured; such men must learn that there is
not always safety in evil-doing, and that he who serves the devil will
be rewarded with hell.’
We lay there perdue in our hiding-place for some three weeks until the
hue and cry after us was somewhat abated; and then stole forth in the
disguise of peasants, hiding by day in the vineyards, and only faring
on by night, and so made our way to Tortosa, where my father had a
friend, a merchant, who traded with Marseilles. To our joy, we found
that he had a vessel now in harbour upon the point of sailing, to which
he conveyed us in the guise of factors, and we got safely away without
being discovered by the familiars of the Inquisition. You may guess,
however, that I did not depart without leaving a letter for Dolores,
which I gave into the hands of a muleteer who was just starting for
Segovia. The letter was couched in the following words: ‘One who was
unjustly persecuted has now escaped, but in leaving thee, he leaves
all behind him that makes life valuable in his eyes. Oh, grant that he
may look forward to the time when in a secure asylum he may hope to
hear from thee!’ I have not much more to tell you. We were scarcely
out of sight of the coast of Spain, when we were attacked by a couple
of Sallee pirates, and though we fought desperately, we proved to be
no match for them and were overpowered. My father, alas! was among the
slain, and I was sold for the slave you see before you.
* * * * *
This story amused me: indeed, it always gave me pleasure to hear the
stories of the slaves who were my fellows in captivity, and this not
only for the tale, though all men love to hear stories of adventure,
but also they served to remind me how many Turks were daily sent out
of the world in their fights, which could not but be pleasing in the
sight of God and man. Also it served to show how few men there are in
this world equal to me in the virtues of manhood--skill, bravery, and
quickness of resource. Most of these tales, indeed, were nought; for
most of the slaves had been taken in the pursuit of their daily bread,
sordid churls, who had lived their mechanic lives like the cattle of
the fields. Nevertheless there was one story related to me by a Kurd
from Hakkarieh which was entertaining enough to remain fixed in my
memory, and which I shall call after its narrator, the ‘Story of Yousef
ibn Ali.’
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF YOUSEF IBN ALI._
No man can escape his destiny, he began, and doubtlessly it was written
upon my forehead that I should be cast down to the depths of misery
from a position in which I enjoyed the most exquisite of delights and
the choicest of the gifts of God. My father was the lieutenant of
the chief of the Kurds, Ogloo Beg, who usually dwelt in his mountain
fastness of Koursouf when not on one of his raiding expeditions. This
castle was situated in a large and fertile valley, entirely surrounded
by high and rugged mountains, well watered by several mountain streams,
and only to be approached by two passes, both difficult and easily to
be defended. Nominally he was subject to the Government of Bagdad, but
practically, so long as he sent a small yearly tribute, he did as he
pleased, and any complaints of the merchants concerning his robberies
were disregarded or easily met by a present to the Turkish governor.
Indeed the Turks would have thought twice before attacking him. His
valley was large enough to support all his men, and they were numerous
enough to keep any army out of so impregnable a place. None the less he
acted wisely in sending the small tribute demanded of him, since there
was always the possibility of treachery, even though his followers were
devoted to him, and moreover he had to take into consideration that,
were the Turks roused to energy, they might cut him off in one of his
expeditions.
As for me, I was born on the last Wednesday in the month of Safar, a
day which naturally gave my father much concern. A darweesh, a Persian,
who was a man of much learning and attached to the court of Ogloo
Beg, demanded an astrolabe and cast my horoscope, which he considered
attentively for some time, and then raising his head he said: ‘Oh, Aga,
the affairs of God are inscrutable, and what is fated is fated. When
thy son arriveth at man’s estate, he will be sore tried and will return
evil for good, attain the summit of happiness, and be cast down into
the depths of misery.’ At this my father struck hand upon hand, but
said nothing. Now he possessed a talisman, a jacinth, inscribed with
many cabalistic characters, which he had obtained in this way. While
commanding an expedition on the borders of Persia he had fallen upon a
large and sumptuously appointed caravan, and after slaying the guard
and plundering the merchants, the women were brought before him. One of
these proved to be a Persian princess journeying with her slaves to the
mountains for a summer residence; and since Ogloo Beg wisely sought to
keep on good terms with those in power on both sides of the border, in
case of need, instead of holding her and her handmaidens to ransom, my
father treated her with all honour, and, giving her a guard of his own
men, sent her on to her destination. In return she presented him with
that jewel which she was wearing at the time, and which makes him who
wears it prosperous and preserves from evil chance. This talisman my
father now hung about my neck; and, had I not parted with it, I should
have been preserved from the fate which overtook me.
My education was that usual for a boy in my position: I was taught
to ride almost before I could walk; to throw the jereed in the game
of war, and to handle arms as soon as I could bear them. Without
boasting, I may say that at a very early age I showed considerable
proficiency in all manly exercises, so much so that Ogloo Beg himself
was pleased to notice me, and would delight to see his son, who was
scarcely one year my elder, contend with me in mimic warfare. It is
needless to add that I always allowed him to overcome me, greatly to
the delight of his father, who would exclaim, ‘_Afferin_, well done!’
and so I not only retained the consideration of the father Ogloo Beg,
but also gained the affection of the son, Hussein, who was a youth of
great beauty and of a noble disposition, whom to see was to love. As
soon as I grew old enough to take part in the plundering expeditions, I
was attached to the person of Hussein, and more than once, had it not
been for me, his ardour and impetuosity in the fight would have cost
him dearly, so that he loved me all the more as the preserver of his
life, and we became inseparable companions.
Now it happened upon one occasion that Ogloo Beg had plundered a
particularly rich caravan of Indian merchants, which he had had notice
had left Bagdad under a guard of soldiers supplied by the Pasha of that
city. The guard had instantly fled upon our attack, we had slain the
merchants and taken their goods to our fastness; but since Ogloo Beg
had received a private message from the Pasha informing him of this
opportunity, and that the guard had instructions not to resist, it was
incumbent upon him to send in return half the value of the goods taken,
which he did, and appointed his son Hussein to accompany them and to
present his respects to the Pasha. I, of course, went with him, and we
were well received. Whether by policy, so as to have a valuable hostage
always in his power, or whether he was struck by the noble bearing
of the son of the mountain chieftain, I cannot tell; but certain it
was that Hussein grew daily in greater favour with the Pasha, and was
induced to put off his departure for many days, until at length, when
he grew more pressing in desiring permission to return to his father,
the Pasha announced that the governorship of Mosul was vacant, and
that, _Inshallah!_ God willing, he would appoint him to the vacant
place. My friend immediately prostrated himself, as in duty bound,
and thanked the Pasha, but desired permission to acquaint his father
with the honour that had been done him, in order that he might also
express his gratitude at the kindness that had been shown his son, and
the permission being accorded, I was deputed to return to Ogloo Beg
and acquaint him with the fact. Accordingly I set forth, but I found
that all that had happened was well known to my master, and although
he did not seem to be quite satisfied with the position in which his
son was placed, he was too old a diplomatist to do otherwise than send
me back with many protestations of thanks and professions of duty. He
argued, perhaps, that though his son might be to some extent a hostage,
yet that it was easier to escape from Mosul than from Bagdad; and,
moreover, as Governor of Mosul, he might procure many good things for
him in the way of business.
Having received his firman, Hussein took leave of the Pasha, and set
out for Mosul, taking me with him in the capacity of his vizier; and
he was no sooner settled in his government, than one day, calling
me aside, he said, ‘My brother, it is hard for the wild hawk to be
chained in the mews, even if he have all that his heart can desire save
freedom; and like the wild hawk, I often pine for our valley-home,
where we ever saw men around us, not slaves as here. But there is
one thing in our home that might reconcile me to my banishment, the
procuring whereof I would entrust to no one but thee, who art united
to me by every tie of affection. Say, wilt thou do this thing for
me?’ ‘On my head and my eyes, oh Aga,’ I replied, ‘nor is there
anything that I would not do for you, even were it to divorce my soul
from my body!’ Then he confided to me that he had long loved Zehneb,
the daughter of his uncle, and that he wished me to go and demand
her in marriage for him, for that he himself was unable to leave his
Government. Accordingly, I set forth with many rich presents, and, to
make a long story short, soon accomplished his purpose. The lady Zehneb
took leave of her parents with many tears, and set forth with a caravan
richly provided and many guards, for she carried a rich dowry with her.
Of this caravan I had the command.
It is perhaps necessary to tell you that we Kurds give our women more
freedom than is elsewhere common in the East, and as children, both my
lord and I had played with Zehneb, neither as she grew older had we
been altogether separated, nor had my heart escaped unscorched by the
fire of her eyes. Alas! the cold embers of my love, which had almost
burnt out in the all-absorbing practice of war, were again kindled into
flame with my mission. She did not veil herself before me, for she
regarded me as a brother almost, she said; and I could not look upon
her without longing that she should be mine. It was only by constantly
recalling to myself the loyalty that I owed to Hussein, and that Zehneb
was his betrothed wife, that I could prevent my lips from declaring to
her what my traitor eyes could no longer conceal.
As the caravan journeyed along day by day, I rode by the side of her
litter, and though I essayed to talk upon such indifferent subjects as
philosophy, and the history and heroes of our race, such as might both
interest her and be permitted to me, yet one glance of her eyes was
sufficient to render me mute, and my troubled looks and frequent sighs
could hardly escape the notice of one so acute, so sympathetic, and so
friendly as she. On one occasion, when I had been relating to her some
of the adventures of Rustem, a silence ensued for some time, and then
she said to me, ‘Oh, Yusef, thou hast related many stories to me of the
might and power of the old heroes, and it behoveth me also to relate
in my turn somewhat of the stories of yore, calculated to admonish the
understanding and make us extol the power and perfection of God.’ Upon
which she related to me the story of ‘El Melek en Assad, or Evil is
Rewarded by Evil.’
[Illustration]
_EL MELEK EN ASSAD, OR EVIL IS REWARDED BY EVIL._
Know that in the days of yore, when Mahommed, on whom be peace, had
returned to heaven but a short time, and the victorious armies of the
believers in the true faith had converted the unbelievers of Arabia,
and of Syria, and of Mesopotamia, that there was a warrior of Persia,
a champion among the champions, whose name was Assad, and who had been
among the first to welcome the true faith in that country. He was a
man of so great might, that even the hosts of the Arabs would have
been worsted and overcome had he been against them. Now Assad, of his
greatness of heart and ambition, could not fold the hand of complacency
upon the belly of satiety, or remain at rest upon the carpet of luxury,
wherefore, when Persia was conquered, and the worshippers of fire
overthrown, and the people were converted, and peace was proclaimed,
seeing that there were no more enemies of the sons of Adam in whose
blood he might bathe his sword, he set forth single-handed against
the king of the Divs or Demons, in order that he might compel him
also to embrace the true faith of our Lord Mahommed. Now this king
was called the Red King, and he was Sultan over a thousand tribes
of the Jinn, each of which was a hundred thousand in number, and
every one of whom ruled over a thousand Marids, who each ruled over
a thousand Afrits, who each ruled over a thousand Shitans, and every
Shitan ruled over a thousand warlocks. No human foot had ever trodden
the soil of his country, because of the perils and frightful sights
and sounds by which it was encompassed, and which no human being had
hitherto had the courage to brave or the strength to encounter. But
Assad in his pride recked nought of these things, and donning his suit
of mail, and girding on his scimitar, he mounted his horse, a noble
beast of the Keheyleh tribe, and so set forth into the desert. Here he
journeyed on for many days, until hunger and thirst overtook him, and
his soul nearly departed from his body, when at length he came upon
a great sea of fresh water, whereupon he returned thanks to God for
his preservation, and drank his fill. Then he tethered his horse, and
sat down by the shore, because it was not possible for him to cross
or to go farther. After he had sat there for some time, putting his
trust in Allah the Compassionate, the Merciful, he heard a voice from
a neighbouring grove chanting the blessed Koran, and drawing near,
little by little, that he might see from whence the voice proceeded,
he perceived an ancient Sheikh, who had taken up his abode there in
an empty tomb. This Sheikh was clad in a garment of camel’s hair, his
locks were long and matted, and his beard descended to his knees. After
salutations, the Sheikh questioned him of his coming, whereupon Assad
related to him the cause, and of his desire to win to the kingdom of
the Divs, in order that he might propound to them the true faith, and
save their souls from the fire. The Sheikh when he heard these words
shook all over with delight, and said: ‘Oh! my son, know that I am of
the children of the Divs, and being converted to the true faith, I
sought to bring my father, the Red King, together with his subjects, to
profess that there was but one God, and that Mahommed was his Prophet;
but they would not listen to me, and scorned my words, and drove me
forth from among them. Whereupon I wept, and humbled myself to Allah,
and I besought Him that He would aid me to convert the blood of my
blood, and not visit them with His judgment. And He sent an angel to me
who swore that my prayer had been heard, and that in His good time He
would send a champion who would convert them, but that I must surrender
my immortality, and become one of the sons of Adam. This I accepted,
and immediately I became as thou seest me; for though I am the youngest
of the sons of the Red King, yet have I seen 1,040 years. Now, however,
thou wilt release me from this life, and I shall attain Paradise.’ Upon
this, he threw certain magic herbs upon a brazier of living coal, and
repeated some incantations, when immediately a ship appeared sailing
without wind, until it stopped at the shore where they were. Then the
Sheikh bade him depart in it, for it would carry him to the country of
the Divs; and scarcely had he ceased speaking, when he became a heap of
dust. Assad thereupon dug a grave, and deposited his remains therein,
and having read some verses of the Koran over him, went on board the
vessel. As soon as he had set foot upon it, it left the shore, and
without wind or sails departed swifter than the flight of the eagle
for the opposite shore, where he disembarked, and, mounting his horse,
fared on.
Now the Sheikh had informed him that he would first have to pass a
stony desert in which he would be assailed by soulless bodies of
hideous form, but that he must not heed them or turn his head, for
if he did they would instantly slay him, nor would his valour avail
him; and he had not proceeded a parasang into the desert when he was
surrounded with threatening forms such as the imagination can scarcely
conceive; nor would it have been possible for anyone endowed with less
valour and stoutness of heart and belief in his own strength than
Assad to have escaped death. For they tempted him in every way to turn
his head, they filled the air around him, they clasped him round the
waist, they sat on the crupper of his horse, but all this he heeded
not and fared on until he had left the desert behind him and had come
to an oasis, as the old man had informed him that he would, where he
found dates for himself, grass for his horse, and water for both; and
after he had said the evening prayers and had eaten, he passed the
night there. In the morning he arose refreshed, and prepared to go
through his second adventure, which was to pass through a plain filled
with wild beasts that seemed to bar his way, lions and winged serpents
and basilisks and unicorns, but he recked not of them, and passed on
unscathed, for as he had no fear they did him no harm. Then he saw
before him a mighty wall of fierce flame, and the blast from it was as
the blast from a furnace, or as the wind of the desert, and it roared
like a troop of baboons in a resounding cavern. He would have feared
to enter it, deeming that no man could enter it and live, had not the
old man forewarned him of it and assured him that it would not harm
him; and when he passed through it he felt nothing, no more than had
he been riding on the meidan. When he had passed through this, he saw
the whole army of the Red King drawn up before him in battle array,
arranged rank after rank, and more numerous than the blades of waving
corn. The air above them was thick with Afrits, whose forms were
hideous enough to instil fear even into the stoutest heart. As soon as
they perceived him, they gave a great cry and beat their spears upon
their shields so that the sky seemed as if it were about to fall, and a
hundred of their chiefest champions galloped forward to take him and
present him to their king, but though they wheeled round him and cut
and thrust, yet they could not overcome him; and he slew them one by
one until he had slain fifty of them, when fear of him overcame them,
their livers became water, and they fled before him, and the whole army
fled with them. Assad pursued them and seized the Red King as he too
was preparing to fly, and having bound him, drew his sword and made him
kneel down, and then propounded Islam to him, saying: ‘Either accept
the true belief in one God brought to us by our Lord Mahommed, on whom
be peace, or thy head shall roll from between thy shoulders.’ Whereupon
the Red King was convinced of the truth of Islam, and pronounced the
requisite formula: ‘Allah il Allah, Mahommed Rasoul Allah;’ so Assad
raised him from the ground, and unbound him and treated him with
honour, and after they had sat for a while conversing, the Red King
said: ‘Oh, my lord, since you have come among us, and we have become
brothers, it is incumbent upon us to show you somewhat of hospitality;
therefore accompany us to our city in order that we may do what is
necessary.’ To this Assad replied, ‘No harm’; and accordingly they set
forth mounted on horses richly caparisoned, the drums beating before
them, banners flying, and surrounded by the troops, until they arrived
at the city of the Red King. The inhabitants thereof decorated the
town and came forth to meet them and do them honour, and so conducted
them to the palace. Then the Red King took his seat on the musnud with
Assad on his right hand and the wuzeers and emirs and the captains
and chief men around him, and he cried out to them with a loud voice,
‘Oh, Jinn, this champion of the sons of Adam has come among us and has
vanquished the most accomplished of our cavaliers and most valiant of
our captains; and we threw out spells against him, but neither our
valour nor our spells availed us aught; wherefore it is obvious that
his religion is the true religion and it is incumbent upon us that
we embrace Islam.’ Then all present cried: ‘Long live our king!’ and
they one and all made the profession of the faith. After this, Assad
having accomplished his purpose, demanded permission of the king to
depart to his own country; but he replied to him, ‘What is this? You
would depart and have not yet partaken of our hospitality!’ So Assad
remained, and there were festivities for three days, every man eating
and drinking at the royal expense. On the third night, when Assad was
reposing in his chamber, he suddenly perceived that he was no longer
alone, but that a lovely girl stood by his couch, accompanied only
by one attendant slave girl. Did I attempt to describe her beauty to
you, no words would avail me, and I will only say, therefore, that it
was such that no human pen could write or human mind conceive it. She
smiled upon the bewildered Assad and then spoke in words sweeter than
distilled honey, saying: ‘My name is Tamineh, and I am the daughter
of the Red King. Hearing the praise of thy doughty deeds and of thy
prowess, whereby thou didst overcome all the champions of my father,
I became enamoured of thee, and swore that I would espouse no other
man. Therefore demand my hand of my father, and he will not deny me to
thee.’ So saying she retired, and Assad the next morning demanded her
hand, which being accorded to him, the nuptials were celebrated the
same day.
After Assad had remained in the city of the Jinn but a short time, the
longing to return to his own country grew upon him so greatly that
he could no longer withstand it, and going to Tamineh, he informed
her of his longing, and that he was about to depart, but that he
must do so secretly, since so great was the love that the Red King
bore his daughter, that he would not suffer him to go if he became
aware of his intention. At this Tamineh wept, but prepared everything
for his departure the next night; and after a tender leave-taking,
and promising her to return soon, he set forth and came into his own
country. Some months afterwards Tamineh gave birth to a boy, one of
the most beautiful of babes, whom she named Zohrasp. As the youth grew
in strength and loveliness, he became the delight of his mother and of
his grandfather, but still Assad did not return, for indeed the way
was arduous and he had forgotten her. Now, when Zohrasp was ten years
old, he said to his mother: ‘Tell me who my father is, and what is his
name?’ But Tamineh wept, and answered, ‘Oh, my son, thy father’s name
is Assad,’ and she went on to describe to him his valour and renown
and the deeds that he had done, so that Zohrasp was eager to seek him.
But his mother tried to dissuade him, for she feared that some evil
would befall, and she said: ‘Oh, my son, some day the memory of me will
prevail on thy father and he will turn his footsteps this way again;
but now there is no one left to me but thee, and if I lose thee I lose
all that I have!’ Nevertheless he was determined, and when his mother
saw this, she did not oppose him any longer, but gave him the finest
steed from her father’s stables, together with enchanted weapons made
by her people, the Jinn, that must prevail against all that do not
pronounce the name of God. Then Zohrasp went forth, and journeyed on
until he came into the kingdom of Tartary, which was then at war with
the Persians. Zohrasp, who longed to show himself worthy of his father,
thought that this would be a good opportunity of performing some deed
of valour, therefore he joined the army of the Tartars, who were
glad to receive him, for though he was yet young, yet he showed such
promise of prowess in war that they hoped great things of him. They
soon reached the frontier, where they found the Persian army encamped,
and the next morning the Tartars prepared to give battle. But Zohrasp
went before them and stood alone in the plain, and he challenged any
one among the Persians, even the greatest of their champions, to come
forward and engage him in single combat. Seeing that he was but young
still, the Persians mocked at him, until at length one of them came
forward to give him battle, thinking to have an easy victory over
him; but he was so speedily vanquished and slain that terror seized
the hearts of the Persians, and they said among themselves: ‘What is
this? Behold a beardless youth vanquisheth one of our champions!’ And
they all feared him. Then one of their oldest and most experienced
warriors came forward, and the fight was desperate for a time, but in
the end Zohrasp overcame him, and waving his bloody spear aloft he
cried: ‘Ho, Persians, are ye afraid? Which among ye will come forward
and try a bout with me?’ But there was no response, for each one said
within himself: ‘If I encounter him, beardless youth as he is, I shall
be slain.’ Now, as destiny would have it, Assad had joined the hosts
of the Persians; for he was tired of peace and longed for war; and
when he heard the challenge of this youth, and saw that among all the
warriors of the Persians there was not one that dared encounter him, he
was enraged, and ordering his horse to be brought to him, he mounted
it and rode forth to encounter the champion of the Tartars. But when
he saw Zohrasp and his tender years, his heart went out to him, and
he said: ‘Oh, youth, thou art but a child still, while I am an old
and experienced warrior, and if we join in combat, thou wilt certainly
die. Go back, therefore, to thy comrades in arms, and perhaps thou
wilt live.’ But Zohrasp thought of his father, and that it behoved
him to make himself worthy of him and of his lineage, and he answered
him: ‘Not so, warrior! but if so be that thou fearest death, behold,
I give thee thy life, for I have pity on thy grey hairs; go back, and
I will not harm thee!’ ‘Then,’ said Assad, ‘thy death be on thy head:
in the name of God fall to.’ Upon which they turned their horses, and
fetching a compass, charged upon each other. In the first shock their
spears were shivered in pieces, whereupon they drew their swords,
which soon became so hacked that they were useless, and so they threw
them away, and continued the fight with clubs until their blood and
sweat poured down upon the ground, and by mutual consent they stopped
to breathe themselves. When Zohrasp removed his helmet Assad looked
upon him, and behold, he was a youth like the full moon, the down just
appearing on his upper lip; and Assad loved him, he knew not why, and
he wished to save him, so he said to him: ‘Oh, youth, thou hast proved
thy valour against the greatest champion in the army of the Persians;
depart therefore in peace while there is yet time, for I am loth to
slay thee.’ But Zohrasp’s heart swelled with pride when he heard this,
and he said within himself: ‘If I vanquish this champion, then indeed
can I appear before my father with honour, and he will take me to his
bosom as his true son.’ He therefore replied to Assad, whose name was
yet unknown to him, ‘Oh, champion of the champions, indeed I will not
depart until my right arm hath given me the victory over thee.’ Then
they renewed the fight, and rained blows upon each other until they
both reeled, and Assad began to fear for himself. So raising his club
with both hands, and saying ‘_Bismillah_,’ in the name of God, he dealt
so mighty a blow upon the helmet of Zohrasp that he felled him to the
ground. Then he threw himself upon him, and would have bound him, but
finding that his strength availed not thereto, drew his dagger and
plunged it into his side. When Zohrasp felt the dagger enter between
his ribs, and knew that the wound was mortal, he gave a great sob, and
cried: ‘Oh my father! I shall never see thee now!’ At this Assad said,
‘And who is thy father, oh valiant youth?’ ‘His name is Assad,’ said
Zohrasp, ‘and my mother is Tamineh, the daughter of the Red King.’ On
hearing these words, Assad threw himself upon him and kissed him and
tried to staunch his wound, crying, ‘My son, my son! And thy father’s
hand was predestined to slay thee!’ The dying Zohrasp begged to look
upon his face, and tried to comfort him, saying, ‘Indeed, thou wouldst
have saved me, but I was obstinate, for I wished to do deeds that would
bring me honour in thy sight; and have I done so, oh my father? Am I
worthy of thee?’ But Assad could not answer him, the tears ran down
his cheeks, and he rolled on the ground and flung dust upon his head.
Presently the soul of Zohrasp departed; and his father took him up
and buried him, and built a magnificent tomb over him, upon which he
inscribed these verses:
I had a jewel deep hidden in the earth,
Which, when I found, I failed to recognise,
But cast it from me as of little worth,
Unknowing that I cast away my prize!
My son, my son, more beautiful than day!
Was my hand, then, more cruel than bitterest foe,
Thy father’s hand, to make thy life-blood flow
And drain the roses from thy cheeks away?
Dim those bright eyes in fatal deadly strife,
Slay him to whom myself had given life?
Ah, could I give him life but once again,
But for a moment, even at the cost
Of my own life, and to my bosom strain
But once again the son that I have lost,
Then gladly would I lay me down and die,
In those dear arms eternally to lie!
When Zehneb had finished her story, I was silent for a time, and then
I said, ‘Truly evil is rewarded by evil; but no man can escape what
is written upon his forehead, even as it happened with Mohammed ben
Khosroes.’ ‘And what is his story?’ she replied. So I related to her
the following.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF MOHAMMED BEN KHOSROES, OR EVIL IS REWARDED BY EVIL._
Once upon a time there lived a Caliph in the city of Hillah, who,
though he had been married for many years, yet had never been blessed
with a child. At length, however, a son was born to him, at which there
were great rejoicings, and the astrologers were called in after the
usual custom to cast his horoscope, which, after they had considered
for a time, they were silent over, until the Caliph commanded them
to speak. They then said: ‘Oh, Caliph, may you live for ever! Your
son will be happy up to his eighteenth year, after which misfortune
will overtake him, and will pursue him to his dying day.’ At this the
Caliph was greatly grieved, but, hoping to avoid the evil fortune
predicted for his only son, he caused to be gathered from far and
wide the most potent charms and talismans that were to be procured,
until at length the search after them, and their collection, became a
craze with him, and he spent the greater part of his revenues on this
hobby of his; for he would send expeditions to Hind and to China, and
even to the country of the blacks, with instructions to spare naught
in the matter of gold and silver in the procuring of talismans of the
highest repute, and such as would bring their owners happiness, and in
the feeing of astrologers and necromancers; moreover, if anyone should
refuse to part with any charm that he might possess, his envoys were
ordered to go on offering larger and larger sums until the owner was
at length tempted to do so. Now, even the treasury of a king could not
withstand so deep and long continued a drain upon its resources, and
at last it grew so low, that even a greatly increased taxation failed
to satisfy its needs; the people murmured, the troops remained unpaid,
and finally, when Mohammed ben Khosroes, as the unfortunate son was
called, attained his eighteenth year, they broke out into open revolt:
they slew the Caliph, set the Wuzeer on the throne, and would have
slain Mohammed also, and thus have ended his misfortunes at once, had
he not fled to Birumis, where, in the garb of a Darweesh, he concealed
himself in a miserable hovel by the roadside. There, fallen from his
high estate, he dwelt, instead of inhabiting a place in the midst of
gardens; for his former robes of silk he now had but one camel-hair
garment, in place of a thousand dishes his food now consisted of the
crusts doled out by fitful charity; and instead of having a crowd of
obedient slaves awaiting his every command, he was himself now at the
beck and call of every old woman who chose to solicit his prayers.
Yet, in spite of all this, so well balanced was his mind that he was
tolerably happy. From his earliest childhood he had known of the fate
that was in store for him; how long had he not brooded over it, watched
each passing chance, received with resignation the prospect of cruel
fortune, and looked with apprehension for the misfortunes that the
future might bring forth; so that he had almost longed for the period
of suspense to end, and for the misfortune that was bound to come on
him sooner or later to come at once. Hence it was with some sense of
contentment that he now reviewed his miserable plight, and hoped that
fortune had done her worst and would now forget him and leave him in
peace. As he lived in retirement, duly performing his daily ablutions
and prayers, his presence began to create some excitement among such
population as there was in the neighbourhood, especially among the
old women, who brought him from time to time quantities of sour milk,
bread, dates, and even mutton and goatsflesh. But fearing the evils of
fortune he refused everything save what was absolutely necessary to
sustain life, and so, greatly to his disgust, the fame of his sanctity
increased. People came to him from far and near, some for advice as to
the regulation of their conduct, some for augury as to what the future
might have in store for them, and some for charms against evil chance;
to all of which, from the bitterness of his experience, he prophesied
evil by apt quotations from the Koran, such as:--‘Wheresoever ye
be, death will overtake you, although ye be in lofty towers;’ and,
‘Whatever evil befalleth thee, it is from thyself;’ and, ‘If God
should bestow abundance upon His servants, they would certainly
behave insolently upon this earth.’ Moreover, since few people escape
misfortunes in this world, his sayings generally came true, insomuch
that his fame waxed and he had no rest all day and all night for the
crowd of those that sought his services, and thus his last case became
even worse than his first.
Now, as it chanced, the Wuzeer who had usurped the throne was a
winebibber, contrary to the ordinances of our Lord Mohammed, whom
Allah protect and preserve! And a devil took possession of him and
made his stomach sick, so that he had no desire or relish for food;
and the devil used to appear to him as a blue Afrit, and from that he
changed into many shapes, from a squeaking mouse to a monkey, then
to a bear, and at last into the shape of a roaring lion, so that the
Wuzeer sought far and wide for some holy man who might exorcise this
devil, who had become a burden to him and more than he could endure,
and make him depart. In this way he heard of the Darweesh of Birumis,
to whom he sent honourable men with rich gifts and a request that he
would come to him at Hillah; for he knew not that he was the son of
the former Caliph. But Mohammed ben Khosroes refused his presents, for
which, as he said, he had no use and sent the messengers away, saying:
‘I am a sinful mortal like yourselves, neither do I possess any power
over Afrits:’ for indeed, he greatly feared Afrits, and would rather
have fled than have faced one. At this the Caliph was incensed, and
the Afrit taunted him, saying: ‘Lo, I am but one against you all; and
yet thou and thy servants and even thy holy men are afraid to meet
me!’ And the Afrit appeared before him as a tiny fly, which presently
swelled until it grew into a monstrous bird of fearful aspect bigger
than a roc, so that the Caliph could no longer support his fear and
trouble, and sent an armed guard to bring Mohammed by force into his
presence. When he was come, the Caliph commanded him to exorcise the
devil; but Mohammed feared the power of the Afrit, and said that he
was not able, and he repeated the verse: ‘Give the orphans their
substance, and render them not in exchange bad for good, and devour
not their substance by adding it to thy substance, for this is a
great sin.’ He also recited the verse: ‘Surely wine, and lots, and
images, and divining arrows are an abomination of the work of Satan;
therefore avoid them that ye may prosper.’ But the Caliph was enraged
at these sayings, and at his refusal to exorcise the devil, and he
bade the ferrashes throw him down and give him an hundred blows on the
soles of his feet; and they laid on with such good will that Mohammed
fainted for stress of pain, and his feet became as jelly. When they had
finished, he crawled out more dead than alive on his hands and knees,
groaning, into the street, and as he lay there an old woman who was
passing by took pity upon him, and set him upon an ass, and conveyed
him to her house, where she dressed his feet and somewhat alleviated
the pain. Now this old woman was foul of aspect and filthy, her eyes
ran over with salt rheum, and her voice was harsh like a man’s, in
short she was a misfortune to look upon; but Mohammed was thankful
for his escape and grateful to her, and he called down blessings upon
her for tending him. She had not, however, shown kindness to him but
out of the wickedness of her heart, for she took his darweesh’s cloak
from him, and clad him in slave’s garments, making him to do all the
heavy work of the house, and grind the corn, and see to the asses; and
she would follow him about and beat him, and rail and cry out at him:
‘Thou sluggard! thou oaf! work faster! do this and do that,’ until he
almost fainted from stress of work and from hunger, and said within
himself: ‘Verily it would have been better to have faced the Caliph’s
Afrit than to have suffered this!’ In such evil plight he abode with
the old woman for some time, and all hope of escape or of any change
in his condition, save death, had almost left him, for every night
she would bind him to a stone pillar lest he might flee from her. But
one night her bosom was contracted at the thoughts of Eblis and the
fear of a future state, and she bid her slave girl bring her the wine
cups, and she ate and she drank until the wine she had taken overcame
her, and her reason left her, so she desired to divert her mind by the
sight of Mohammed and of his misery, and bade the slave girl unbind
him and bring him before her in order that she might expand her bosom
by reviling him. And when he stood before her, anger overcame him at
the recollection of all the wrongs that he had suffered at her hands,
and he took up a pitcher of water that stood beside her, and threw
it at her so that she died. Then the slaves raised a great cry, and
the officers of justice came and bound him and carried him before the
Caliph, who said to him: ‘Oh, ill-omened slave, was it not enough
for thee that I beat thee, but thou must slay the daughters of true
believers?’ And he bid them beat him again, and then take him out and
hang him. So they beat him until he thought that his soul had left his
body, and that hanging would be superfluous; and then they set him upon
an ass with his face to its tail, and a crier went before him saying:
‘This is the reward of murderers!’ until they reached the gallows
without the city.
Now it happened that some of the chief men about the Caliph had
recognised Mohammed when he was brought before him, and repented them
of having slain his father and of having given the kingdom to the
Wuzeer, for he was a winebibber, and neglected the affairs of state,
and oppressed the people; so they rose upon him and slew him, and they
sent after Mohammed, intending to set him upon the throne. A troop of
horse rode forth at once, shouting: ‘Long live our Lord Mohammed! Long
live our Caliph!’ The crowd took up the cry and rushed after them,
and they reached the place of execution just as the rope was being
placed round Mohammed’s neck and he had given himself up for lost. The
officers of justice heard the commotion, and said: ‘Perhaps something
has happened, it were better that we wait: for if the Caliph wish him
to live, it is well, whereas if he wish him to die, we can kill him
afterwards.’ But just then a fly stung the ass upon which Mohammed was
sitting, and the ass threw up its heels and pitched him off, so that,
the rope being round his neck, he was strangled and died. May Allah
have mercy upon him and end his woes in Paradise!
When I had finished this story, Zehneb hung her head, and said: ‘It
is true that there is no escape from destiny, but he who always does
right is protected by God, as was the case with Abou Ali.’ ‘What is the
story of Abou Ali?’ I asked. So she related it to me as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF ABOU ALI, OR GOOD DEEDS ARE REWARDED BY GOD._
I heard from my mother, that when the kingdom of Iran was temporarily
at rest under Barkiarok, he had a Wuzeer who was called Abou Ali, a man
discreet and intelligent, who served God, was just to all men, and gave
most of his wealth to the poor, insomuch that the people blessed him
and loved him better than the Shah. For the Shah took their wealth and
gave them nothing in return, neither security nor justice, nor defence
nor good government, but on the other hand oppressed them and treated
them hardly. So they stood before Abou Ali, and said: ‘O Wuzeer, verily
our Shah oppresses us, and neither our possessions nor our lives are
secure from him: therefore we are resolved to depose him and set you,
_Inshallah_, God willing, in his place.’ Then Abou Ali rose up and
shook his collar, and descending from the divan he cried out at them:
‘Oh people, what words are these? Verily ye are of little sense! Go
to your homes lest this come to the ears of the Shah and he become
incensed against you, and make your last state worse than the first!’
So they left him abashed, and went to their homes saying: ‘There are
indeed few among us who being offered the throne would have refused
it!’ But Abou Ali, when they had left him, struck hand upon hand, and
said within himself: ‘In sooth it were best that I informed the Shah
of that that hath happened, lest he hear of it from others.’ So he
disposed of his property, and set free his slaves, and then, seeking
an audience from the Shah, told him of what had occurred, nor did he
conceal anything from him, and he added: ‘Verily I fear for thee, Oh
Asylum of the Universe, lest they offer the throne to other than I.
As for me, I am less than the least, but there are none who would
not turn from thee saving myself.’ At this the Shah was perplexed,
but concealing his anxiety, he praised Abou Ali for his rectitude of
conduct and loaded him with presents, and so sent him away; then he
turned over in his mind how he might get rid of him, for he feared him
and there were none among his officers or chief people whom he might
trust. Therefore he sent for the chief of his hareem, and commanded
him to take with him forty of his most trusty Memlouks, and go up to
the house of Abou Ali when the shades of night had obscured the light
of day, and to plunder his house and seize him and convey him quickly
into the desert, where they were to put him to death. ‘On my head and
my eyes,’ said the chief: but he was nevertheless grieved for Abou Ali,
who had shown him much kindness, and his heart was heavy within him.
When evening fell, he accordingly went with forty of his most trusty
Memlouks, and they knocked at the door of Abou Ali’s house and said:
‘Open in the Shah’s name!’ So he opened to them, and they plundered it
and set seals on the door, and they took him and bound him and set him
upon a horse, and rode forth with him into the desert. Then the chief
dismissed his men, saying: ‘The Shah’s commands are for me to obey,’
and he fared on with Abou Ali until they had come to the borders of
Persia, when he alighted from his horse, and unbound him, and treated
him with honour, seating him beside him on his carpet, and gave him to
eat, putting morsels into his mouth with his own hands. And he said
to him: ‘Oh, Abou Ali, I am not of those who forget kindness done to
them at the hands of others: is it not written in the sublime Koran:
“We feed you for God’s sake only, we desire no recompense from you,
nor any thanks; verily we dread from our Lord a dismal and calamitous
day; wherefore God shall deliver them from the evil of that day, and
shall cast on them brightness of countenance and joy.” Therefore, Oh
Abou Ali, take this horse, together with a sufficiency of food, and
go thy ways, for it is not safe for thee to be seen in the Shah’s
dominions.’ So Abou Ali thanked him and fared on, not knowing whither
he went, but putting his trust in God, the Protector, the All-powerful.
Now he had taken with him all that he had that was great in value but
little in bulk of jewels and of money, and whenever he saw a poor man,
he would give him a handful, saying: ‘This is for the sake of God.’
And they would pray for him and call down blessings upon him. Thus it
happened with him until he reached the country of Hind, which is a
pleasant country abounding in wealth, with flowing rivers and shady
trees. As he entered the city he heard a commotion, and going to see
the cause, perceived that a man was chastising his slave, while the
slave, who was an old man with white hair, wept and excused himself,
saying: ‘Verily, I am old, and I am not able to do more than I have
done.’ So Abou Ali went up to the master, and saluted him, and asked
the cause of the beating and wherein his slave had offended him. To
which the master replied that he was lazy and would not work. Then
Abou Ali was moved with pity for him, and said: ‘Show kindness unto
parents and relations, and to orphans and the poor and the traveller
and the captives whom your right hand shall possess.’ And he would have
ransomed him, but found that none remained to him of all the wealth
and jewels that he had fled with. So he said: ‘Give this old man his
freedom, and something wherewithal to live upon, and take me, who am
young and vigorous, as thy slave in his place.’ At this the master
was pleased, and called out: ‘Ho, neighbours, ho, true believers, I
take ye to witness that this man hath sold himself to me of his own
free will, and the price is ten pieces of silver and this slave.’ And
they said: ‘We are your witness.’ Then Abou Ali doffed his robes, and
put on the garment of a slave, and worked for this man; his lot was
hard, and he had to eat many stripes, but still he repined not, for
he said within himself: ‘Verily God will not wrong anyone even the
weight of an ant; if it be a good action, he will double it, and will
recompense it in His sight with great reward.’ Thus was his state for
a great while; but it chanced that one day, as the master, according
to his custom, was looking on at the work of his slaves in the garden,
that he was angry with one of them and ordered him to be thrown upon
the ground and beaten. Whereupon all the slaves rose against him and
seized him, and treated him vilely, and would have slain him, but
Abou Ali cried out at them: ‘Ho, Caffour, ho, Hassim, verily it is
written, “He who forgiveth and is reconciled unto his enemy shall
receive his reward from God, for He loveth not the unjust doers.”’ And
again, ‘“For those who persecute the true believer, and afterwards
repent not, are prepared the torments of hell.” Therefore, Oh fellow
slaves, do no hurt to your master, but leave his punishment to God!’
So he persuaded them to leave him, grievously wounded, it is true,
but they refrained from taking his life. Then the master departed and
returned to his abode and dressed his wounds; and when he was somewhat
recovered, he sent for Abou Ali, who came and stood before him in
a respectful attitude, his hands concealed in his sleeves. And his
master said to him, ‘Oh, Ali, I should not have escaped from those
accursed slaves had it not been for thy faithfulness and fortitude,
and inasmuch as thou hast risked thy life for mine, I give thee thy
freedom and also the hand of my daughter, my only child, and I adopt
thee for my son.’ After Abou Ali had thanked him, they made a great
feast and celebrated the nuptials, the festivities lasting for three
days. Then the father-in-law appointed him master over the slaves, so
he looked after them, and treated them justly, and they all loved him
and did his behests. In this way they abided for some time until his
father-in-law had fulfilled his appointed days, and he died. Then Abou
Ali sold all his possessions, and loaded his goods upon camels, and set
out on his way towards Iran, for he was tired of dwelling in a country
that was not his own; and he journeyed on until he came to the town of
Bunpore where he found all the people assembled without the gates, who,
when he came up to them, hailed him as their Sultan: for it was their
custom whenever their Sultan died to assemble without their gates, and
the first stranger that passed that way they would make Sultan in his
place. So Abou Ali accepted the throne of Kohistan, and he lived in the
town of Bunpore in the enjoyment of all felicity until he was visited
by the terminator of delights and the separator of companions.
Zehneb finished her story thus, and she added that this showed how
those who fulfilled the commandments of Allah attained happiness.
Nevertheless, I was not convinced, for was I not compelled by love? And
so I related to her the following.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF GHERIB AND BÄIDA._
One day as I was wandering in the neighbourhood of our home, pursuing
the fleet gazelle with hawk and hound among the stony mountains, I
suddenly came upon a cave in which I found dwelling an old Darweesh.
His only garment was a camel-hair cloth, his skin was brown with dirt,
and his hair and beard were long and matted. There he sat counting his
beads or prostrating himself in prayer; and ever and anon he would take
up a great stone and beat his breast, crying out the names of God. I
went up to him and questioned him of his case, saying, ‘Oh Darweesh,
verily I have hunted in these districts many years, but never yet have
I met such as thou.’ ‘Oh, my son,’ he replied, ‘in truth my story
is a sad one, and will serve as an example to those who would be
admonished.’ He then proceeded as follows.
My name is Gherib, and I loved Baïda, the daughter of my uncle, whose
name was Achmet Decab. Baïda was as the waving willow wand, like a
branch pearled with dew; her face put to shame the shining sun, and her
eyes were languishing, such as would steal away the soul; in short, she
was endowed with the uttermost of amorous grace, and resplendent with
beauty and perfection. But her father was a covetous man, and desired
more for her than he could get from me, her cousin; and therefore he
put off our marriage with excuses and subterfuges, although she loved
me, saying that she was yet young, or that he must prepare for the
marriage feast, or that some of our relations were away: in short,
he said anything that he could think of in order that he might gain
time, and perhaps escape from his obligation to give her to me. Now
the beauty of Baïda was so great, that the fame thereof spread far and
wide among the tribes, and her father had many offers of marriage for
her, all of which he was obliged to decline on my account, saying that
she was already betrothed. But one among her suitors, who was a rich
man, and owned many flocks and herds and droves of camels, resolved
nevertheless to see her in order that he might verify with his own
eyes the report of her extraordinary beauty; and he therefore visited
Achmet Decab, who entertained him hospitably, and he stayed with him
three days, in the course of which he saw Baïda tending her flocks, and
knew that report, so far from exaggerating her charms, had been unable
to do her justice. Thereupon the flames of love were kindled within
him, and he offered her father a large dowry, though Achmet Decab, much
to his regret, was unable to accept it owing to me and to my superior
claim; and he informed the suitor, whose name was Said Salem, of the
case. So they consulted together, and Said offered me much wealth if I
would give her up: but I replied, ‘Oh, Said, wert thou to offer to me
all the riches of the Arabs, yet would I not take it save together with
Baïda.’ At that he went his way, but her father was enraged at losing
the riches that would have been his. After that he sought to get me out
of the way that he might then demand his daughter’s dowry suddenly, for
if it were not forthcoming, he might then give his daughter to whom he
pleased. So he sent for me with a deceitful heart, and treated me with
honour, and said: ‘Truly, my son, we have been longing for thy union
with our daughter; and we did not tempt thee with riches save to prove
thy love for her. Would that thy union were accomplished, nor is there
ought standing in its way save thy poverty: for she is used to plenty,
and is not accustomed to a hard life. Therefore it is incumbent upon
thee to obtain riches. Thou art valiant and experienced: why then dost
thou not make a raid upon some one of the neighbouring tribes or towns,
and so remove the only obstacle between thee and her?’ ‘Upon my head
and my eyes, oh my uncle!’ I replied. So I got together of our tribe
of the most daring of the young men, and set forth on my expedition.
As soon, however, as I had been gone some days’ march, Achmet Decab
demanded his daughter’s dowry; but I had guarded against this by
leaving in the hands of four of my kinsmen what was necessary, who paid
it over to him before witnesses; nor could he refuse it, so that when
I returned he could no longer make excuses to postpone our marriage,
and he knew that I would be informed of what had taken place and
return quickly. Then, so great was his rage and disappointment, that
he resolved to sin against his own blood, and, calling before him his
son Zalan, who was Baïda’s half-brother, commanded him to join me, and
under the guise of brotherhood and friendliness to seek an opportunity
to slay me secretly, so that it might appear that I had been slain by
the enemy. Accordingly Zalan set out and came to me, and I welcomed him
and treated him like a brother. The next day we made a descent upon
the people of Mechrimeh. Spears were bathed in blood, arrows flew in
clouds, sword clashed with sword, and valiant men were laid low. In the
midst of the fight I chanced to turn my head and saw Zalan in the act
of poising a javelin against me. I warded it off with my shield, and
Zalan, seeing himself detected, with the courage of desperation seized
another with the intention of again attacking me, although he knew that
I was superior to him in the exercises of war: but before he could
poise it, I spurred my horse upon him, and with my falchion split him
in two halves, so that the one fell on the one side of his horse and
the other upon the other. When the fight was over, and we had driven
off the flocks and herds and had added them to those we had taken
before in a secure place in the desert, I had leisure to reflect upon
my case and upon the misfortune that had overtaken me. For my uncle
was now become the avenger of blood, and would seek to destroy me, and
I could not become the husband of Baïda. I wept when I reflected upon
the perversity of my fate that was before so flourishing, but it had
become necessary for me now to take some measures for my own safety,
so I withdrew to another tribe, whence I wrote to Baïda giving her an
account of Zalan’s treachery, deploring the adversity of fate and our
separation, and begged her to give me some token that in spite of all
that had happened she still loved me. I also sent her the following
verses:
Beneath the palms, their gentle fronds still bending
In murmuring greeting to the balmy wind,
I saw thee, love, thy fleecy charges tending;
Oh, that I ne’er had seen thee, or been blind!
One glance you shot. Ah me, a never-ending
Flame that glance kindled in my peaceful mind,
And straight I loved thee with a love transcending
Love ever fired in man by womankind!
My eyes that brought those flames on me endeavour
To quench with tears love’s agonising pain;
Alas, alas, I might weep on for ever,
Without thy love recovery is vain!
Ask weary Night, and she will tell thee never
Through all her watches o’er the dewy plain
Are my lids closed in balmy sleep, but ever
Look for the rising morning star again.
O love, my love, if thou canst pity show it
While yet a spark of life remains in me!
If thou canst not, then let Death have me, so it
Release me from my yearning misery!
Grant but one grace (ah, would that I might know it
Before I died, that I might gladdened be!)
Forget me not--think of me sometimes, though it
Remind thee also that I died for thee!
Then I sealed it, and sent it by a secret messenger, so that it should
come into her hands. When she had read it, and understood its contents,
she wept and fell down in a swoon, and after she had recovered she
replied to me as follows:
I am content for him I love to bide
All evils that sad destiny hath wrought;
So let him blame who will, and who will chide.
God knows, I ne’er recall thee to my thought,
My loved one, but, straight from my brimming eyes
The streaming tears gush forth with which they’re fraught!
Though I my griefs conceal for fear of spies,
My hollow cheeks and tears still me betray:
Now thou art gone, I only breathe in sighs.
What though the sun shine! Still it is not day;
There is but darkness where there should be light,
While thou, my love, art elsewhere, far away!
Like a left hand, forsaken of the right,
I feel now thou art gone; to whom shall I
My soul unburden, thus abandoned quite?
‘Console thyself with others’ love,’ they cry;
Nay, by thy life, by my love’s life, I vow
I’d go through fires could I win thee thereby!
I supplicate Him, who doth part us now,
That we may meet once more, in spite of foes,
And in a blissful union end our woes!
This was a consolation indeed to me in my misfortunes; but though we
managed to exchange a certain amount of correspondence, yet it was
impossible for me to relax any of the precautions I was taking to
preserve my life. Achmet Decab dared not come near me where I was,
but neither dared I go near my old home: for, unless I killed him,
which I might certainly do, my life was not safe from hour to hour;
whereas, if I did kill him, I should only give rise to another blood
feud and be no better off than I was before. At length in answer to my
many complaints of the pain of absence, I received a letter from Baïda
appointing a meeting in a cave well known to both of us, situated upon
the other side of the mountain against which our tribe had encamped.
My joy upon the receipt of this epistle I will leave you to imagine,
and I need not tell you that I did not fail to keep the appointed time.
On the date given me I set off early, and with due circumspection,
travelled two-thirds of the distance and then hid myself in a retired
spot to wait for the shades of night to fall. As soon as it began to
get dark I resumed my journey, and as the moon was just beginning to
rise and shed its tender beams, so dear to a lover’s heart, over the
stony waste, I arrived at the trysting-place, where I tethered my horse
in the innermost recesses of a cave and then took up a position among
some broken rocks whence I could see and yet not be seen. I had not
waited long, when I saw Baïda approaching. She appeared troubled in
mien, but made light of all obstacles in her way as only an Arab girl
could. Ever and anon she stopped and listened, clearly, as I thought,
for me, for it was not yet the full time appointed: then she would
hurry on again until at length she arrived at the cave. I heard her
call my name in a low voice, and needed no second summons before I
was at her side. Ah! how can I describe to you our mutual transports
at meeting each other again after so long an interval, rendered twice
as long by the sharp impatience of love and doubting as we did that
we should ever see each other again? It seemed that we had hardly
exchanged a word, when she suddenly started back, and looking fearfully
around, informed me that my life was in the greatest danger. She had
come at the peril of her own to warn me that our correspondence had
been intercepted and that the letter inviting me was none of hers but
merely a decoy which she had discovered by the merest accident but a
few hours ago. Seeing some of her relations assembled armed at her
father’s tent, her suspicions were aroused, and listening behind the
curtain, she overheard the whole plot. Achmet Decab had decoyed me
here, and, while I unsuspectingly awaited my Baïda, he hoped easily to
surprise and overcome me. She had scarcely finished her recital when
with a shriek she threw herself in front of me, and almost at the same
instant fell at my feet pierced through the heart by a javelin, while
the war-cry of my tribe rung in my ears. I stooped down to kiss her,
and saw that she was dead: my heart became filled with the fury of
ten thousand devils: I drew my sword, and rushed down upon my enemies
blind with rage; I attacked madly, and the first person I encountered
was Achmet Decab, whose sword I beat down, and whom I instantly slew.
Then I turned upon the others, nor did I know what afterwards happened,
so blind was my fury, save that shortly afterwards I found that all
my enemies had fled, leaving two of their number besides Achmet Decab
dead behind them. When there was no one left to fight, my senses
returned to me, and I went back to Baïda and lifted her tenderly up.
How beautiful she was in death! Gently I closed those loving eyes that
never again would respond to my impassioned gaze, and smoothed those
tresses for the last time with my trembling hands. That fearful glance
was gone, her features were composed in peace, she would feel no more
of the griefs and anxieties of this world: her woes were ended, even
as she had supplicated the Most High--may our union be a blessed one
in Paradise! Then I dug a grave, and laid her in it, while my tears
ran in two rivulets at my feet. Her body I covered over with sand, but
left her face free, for I felt that the sand might choke her. Then I
piled large stones around and over it, and sat there three days weeping
and reciting verses from the Koran, while the vultures and jackals
demolished the carcasses of those I had slain. After this I wandered
away as one distraught, I know not for how long, until I took up my
abode here; where I daily pray that the Merciful One will release me
from this life and reunite me with my beloved where separation can
never more come.
Zehneb wept when I had finished my story, and said: ‘Alas, it is true
that there is no security for love in this life, but only in Paradise!’
By this time we had arrived at our journey’s end and were entering the
city of Mosul, where separation would come upon us, and the hearts of
both of us were full. Yet a few steps, and we should enter the palace
of Hussein, after which our companionship would be ended for ever, and
I should never set eyes on Zehneb again, much less hear or talk to her.
Already a guard of honour had come forth to meet us, and presently
Hussein approached and embraced me, and then led the way at the head of
the procession to a palace that he had prepared for the reception of
Zehneb, whose nuptials were to be celebrated on the morrow. After this
I followed him to the Governor’s palace. He was full of questions as to
the events of the journey and of our old home, but every word from him
was as a stab in my heart. I could not talk, so full were my thoughts
of Zehneb and of our separation, and I answered him but absently. Then
he commanded the slaves to bring the table, and we washed our hands
and sat, Hussein feeding me and commending the dishes, but I had no
appetite and I could not eat. Then they set the sweetmeats before us
of a hundred different sorts, and he conjured me to eat; but when I
essayed to do so the conserves seemed to dry up in my mouth, and I was
not able to. So he ordered them to set the wine before us, wine from
Shiraz of the choicest, and he filled a cup and handed it to me, and
said: ‘Oh Yousef, drink to the happiness of thy brother Hussein and to
his speedy union with Zehneb, the beloved one.’ Whereupon I drank,
and said: ‘May all happiness be theirs!’ Then Hussein said: ‘Tell us
somewhat of Zehneb, and of her beauty, for thou hast been with her many
days and hast enjoyed her company, nor would I have entrusted her to
any one but thee.’ Upon this I hung my head, and said: ‘Oh, my lord,
it is in truth of thy kindness that thou commandest me to speak of
one whose charms are such that any word concerning her is delightful;
but I desire of thy goodness that I may be excused, for my tongue is
inept, and I have not yet recovered from the fatigues of the journey
and my fear and anxiety concerning her safety.’ Whereat he laughed, and
said: ‘Oh Yousef, indeed we would not force thee; but since thy bosom
is contracted, perhaps the hearing of music will dilate it.’ Then he
clapped his hands, and a slave girl appeared more beautiful than the
Moon; and behind her came another slave girl carrying a lute in a bag
of silk. And when she had seated herself, she drew the lute forth, and
tuned it, bending over it as a mother bends over her child; then she
swept her hands over the strings, and they wailed as a lover mourning
the loss of his beloved. After a prelude played in seven different
manners, she sang as follows:
Like the Cassia branch is she,
Oh, my soul, so slim and fair!
Sweet as honey from the bee:
None can with my love compare!
I saw the bright Moon rise on high,
Amidst the constellations pass:
My love is like the Moon, I cry,
As unattainable, alas!
I fear to die of grief. Ah me!
A burning fire consumes my heart
There is no greater agony
Than that when weeping lovers part!
Be sparing of your blame on one
Who must endure a lover’s pain:
There is no hope left to me, none,
That I shall meet her e’er again!
Then peace be on thee, fairest love!
Nought in the world of power or pelf,
No being on earth, or heaven above,
Can compensate me for thyself!
When she had finished, I gave a great cry and fell back senseless;
and Hussein sprinkled me with rose-water until I had recovered. Then
he said to me: ‘Oh, my brother, I did not ply thee with questions
concerning Zehneb but of my desire to prove to myself what I knew
before, namely the love and affection that thou bearest to her. Know
that I was with the caravan the whole of the journey in the guise of
a camel-driver, and listened to thy conversation with Zehneb, and to
the stories that were related between you; and I became aware that thou
didst love her, and that she loved thee in return. Nevertheless thy
loyalty to friendship, and her loyalty to her betrothed, withstood the
temptation of mutual love. Oh Yousef! if thou wert not my brother I
would not do what I am about to do: for I also, in seeing and hearing
her and learning the nobility of her mind and the beauty of her
understanding, learned to love her too. But thou hast the first right
to her, since she loves thee, and I yield her up. We will celebrate
your nuptials to-morrow.’ When I heard this, I threw myself on the
ground before him, and kissed his hands, and thanked him in stammering
words. Then I drew out the Jacinth from my bosom, the talisman which
my father had given to me and which I had worn ever since, and it had
never left me, and I said: ‘Oh, my Lord, thou hast overwhelmed me with
thy bounty and kindness, and thy slave hath neither words to thank thee
nor aught to make in return to thee for thy beneficence. But deign to
take this jewel, which alone, of all I possess, is not wholly unworthy
of thy acceptance; for good fortune can do no harm even to those who
enjoy the highest of the gifts of God. It is a talisman by virtue of
which the wearer ever has good luck;’ and I related to him its story:
whereupon he took it and thanked me, and tied it round his neck.
The next day my marriage with Zehneb was celebrated with the utmost
magnificence and pomp. Hussein appointed me to a subordinate
governorship at Jaffa; and I took up my residence there, dealing justly
with my people, and was beloved by them in return. But one day as I was
riding along by the seashore with but few attendants, in order that I
might examine more closely a ship which was anchored hard by, a number
of men suddenly darted up from behind the sandhills, where they had
been concealed, and seized me together with such of my attendants as
had been unable to fly, and hurrying us on board the vessel, weighed
the anchor and set sail; so that I knew that they were pirates. They
sold me to a dealer in slaves at Alexandria, who would not listen to me
when I told him who I was, and that I was a true believer and a free
man whom it was not lawful to enslave; nor would he believe that I was
able to pay ransom, for he perceived that I was a Kurd. So he sold me
to some merchants of Barbary, and now I am become what you see. Destiny
had marked me out for misfortune; I am cast down from the highest
happiness to the lowest depths of despair, and scarcely have a hope
left that I shall ever enjoy felicity again in this life.
I tell this story as one that I thought to be worthy of remembrance
and one of those that served to beguile some of the tedious hours of
my captivity. There were besides others, not unworthy of notice, one
especially, which was told to me by a High German, a slave of sinister
aspect, who called himself Wolfram von Rabenbach, which I think worthy
of relation; though, indeed, I hardly know whether to give credence to
it or not: for it contains many wonderful things concerning the power
of Satan over mortals, which were more frequent in past ages than in
these times. This slave related to us one evening the story of his
life, as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF WOLFRAM VON RABENBACH_
I need not begin the story of my life with any account of my early
youth, which passed without any noteworthy event, much as that of
others; but I will begin from the time that I entered the service of
Count Dietrich von Schneckenstein, lord of Schneckenstein, at a time
when I was yet scarce eighteen years old. The castle of Schneckenstein
was situated on the summit of a lofty pinnacle of rock, the spur of
a still higher mountain, and all around was a dense pine forest, the
home of the deer, wild boar, wolf, and occasional bears. The cultivated
plains beneath served to sustain the laborious population of many
villages, who all owned the Lord of Schneckenstein for their master.
Our days were passed in hunting and the exercises of war, and our
evenings in wild carouse; when Count Dietrich with his knights and any
stranger guests that chanced to be passing that way and claimed his
hospitality, would drink and sing and swear until the early hours of
the morning. There was nothing to hinder him or to soften his manners.
His wife had been dead many years, leaving an only daughter who was
called Hildegard, and who was, at the time I am speaking of, the only
lady in the castle. But she never appeared at her father’s board, being
still young, only fourteen years of age; and she passed her time in
the ordinary occupations of females with her women in a separate wing
of the castle. I had been about a year in Count Dietrich’s service
before I saw her; and though I had heard that she was very beautiful,
I had never given much thought to her until one day when being on
guard, I saw her passing from the castle gardens to her bower. I had
no sooner seen her than, young as we both were, I had fallen in love
with her; but, on my part, it was a hopeless love, for how could I hope
without either rank or wealth to be able to carry off the heiress of
the house of Schneckenstein? For her part I doubt that she ever saw
me, or if she did, that she ever noticed me amidst the crowd of her
father’s retainers; and I was compelled to nurse my love in silence.
This I would willingly have done for an indefinite time, for it was
sufficient for me to worship her at a distance so long as I had no fear
of any rival; but, to my great distress, the confessor of my Lord of
Schneckenstein recalled him from his selfish pursuits to think of his
daughter who, as he pointed out, was now growing up to womanhood, and
whose beauty was so renowned that it only needed a public declaration
from her father that he was willing to entertain the idea of marriage
for his daughter, for a crowd of suitors for her hand to come forward.
Count Dietrich took this advice to heart, and since he knew of no one
more suitable for a husband to her than another, he adopted the usual
device of proclaiming a tournament (though such jousts were rather out
of date), the winner of which was to be rewarded with his daughter’s
hand.
This announcement cost me the utmost perturbation of spirit. How
could I hope to prove victorious in a tournament against the most
accomplished cavaliers of the age? And if I were, how could I, without
rank or wealth, be accepted as a suitor for her hand? One afternoon,
almost beside myself with these thoughts, I wandered forth into the
woods. It wanted but a few days to the tournament. The weather was
lowering and portended a storm. Already as I walked beneath the giant
pines they sighed to the first blast of the gale. Soon murky clouds
began to discharge their threatening drops of moisture, the heavens
grew dark as night, blinding flashes of lightning were followed by
peals of thunder that shook the earth; the wind howled and roared,
making the trees to groan and creak and crash around me. But the
turmoil of the storm hardly echoed the fury within my soul as I
struggled on in an ecstasy of rage. I cursed my fate, I cursed the
elements and bade them do their worst, I cursed the day on which I
was born, I cursed my life, and I cursed the life to come! Suddenly a
terrible flash of lightning blasted a tree just before me; recoiling
almost blinded, I was recovering from the shock when I saw a figure
clad all in red emerge from behind the ruined trunk. Though my spirits
a moment before had been madly excited, a sudden horror seized me at
the sight of the stranger. I would have turned and fled had I not been
paralysed. A thousand thoughts of fear, anger, horror, and of flight,
chased each other through my brain as I stood uncertain what to do;
but before I could determine anything the stranger accosted me--that
is, I seemed to know what he said though no words were expressed. It
seemed to me that he knew all my past life--of my love, of my longing,
and of my despair; and that he gave me the promise of success in the
forthcoming tournament upon one condition: it seemed to me that he
assured me of the attainment of all I wished during this life if I
would agree to serve him in the life hereafter. I loved too deeply
to refuse; and straightway he produced a document already engrossed
and with my name in it, and then handing me a pen he pointed out the
place where I was to sign. ‘One drop of blood,’ he said, ‘to write
your signature is enough for me; we need no seal.’ I drew my poignard
and bade him use it on my arm; but he fell back and said that he could
have no hand in it, and that I must do it myself. So I drew blood and
signed. Then there came a roll of thunder more terrible than any I
had yet heard; lightnings played around and a cloud of sulphurous and
other mephitic vapours surrounded and almost suffocated me, so that I
lost my senses for a time, and when I had regained them the stranger
was gone, but there near by me, tied to a tree, was a war horse laden
with a complete suit of magnificent armour. As I turned home cowed and
sad, leading my new possession by the bridle, the storm began to abate,
dying away in wails and sobs, but the tempestuous air seemed to my
imagination to be thick with unseen beings, that could be felt although
they could not be seen. A rush of wings accompanied me as I went, howls
and groans were intermingled with sad sweet cries, among which I could
distinguish the words ‘Lost! lost!’ drowned in shrieks of fiendish
laughter. The rain now ceased, but the wind still wailed dirges
through the trees, and night was coming on apace. As I groped my way
onward, strange shadowy forms seemed to dog my footsteps, and stranger
creatures seemed to follow me through the branches overhead. Ghastly
faces would appear from behind the trunks of the trees, faces that
curdled the very marrow in my bones, so terrible was their expression
or so awful the agony they betrayed; while ever and anon some frightful
flying thing would sweep by me so closely as to brush my face with a
touch that froze me.
At length I reached the castle again, and hid the horse with its
precious burden in one of the outlying stables. Then I retired to
my chamber and thought over all that I had gone through. My first
impulse was to confess all to Father Kussmaul, the chaplain, and
seek to expiate by penance the frightful doom I had incurred. But
could I sacrifice all hope of happiness in this life for fear of the
shadowy penalties in the life to come? Oh, Hildegard! who that had
once seen thee would not sooner have braved the deepest depths of hell
than have foregone one gentle regard from thee? In pain and terror I
watched during the next few days the preparations for the tournament;
in pain because I now lived a haunted life, my nights were full of
awful dreams, I seemed to be dragged down into deep abysses by the
most frightful demons, and would awake in a cold sweat and trembling.
In terror I passed my hours lest the promises of Satan should not be
fulfilled; and I, inexperienced and weak, should be vanquished by the
practised warriors who already filled the castle. Every day, two,
three, or half a dozen would arrive, and dreadful were the riots and
debauches among them of nights. Each one brought with him a squire
and retainers, and every hour there would be measuring of muscle, and
deep wagers on the prowess and skill of their several lords, while I
looked on as one distraught. The noise and clamour of their tongues,
the braying of the minstrels, the quarrels of the masters, the snarling
of their hounds, all went through my brain like the whirling of great
mill-wheels, and I had almost given up my love and started for Rome
when the eventful day arrived. The jousts were to begin at noon, and it
was scarcely an hour before that time when I escaped from my duties and
stole away to where my horse and armour were concealed in the forest.
There I armed myself cap-à-pié, and set forth; nor had I gone a few
yards when I heard the clattering of hoofs behind me and the tootooing
of a horn. I reined in my steed and looked round, when I saw one in the
guise of a squire, so evil a face I had never before seen, who, as soon
as he saw me stop, called out: ‘This is no time for delay, my Lord, the
joust is begun!’ ‘And you,’ I cried, ‘who are you?’ ‘I am your squire,’
he answered, ‘and come whence your horse and armour came; onward, we
are late!’ In despair, I put spurs to my horse, and we arrived just
as the last pair were engaged. It was a warm day; the lists were
almost hidden in a cloud of dust, which, however, did not rise to the
high tribune where Hildegard sat, the Queen of the tournament, among
her maidens. No questions were asked me, and I did not raise my
vizor, though many gazed curiously at my deviceless shield of maiden
whiteness, and whispered among each other: ‘A stranger knight!’ There
was a rush of horses, a mighty shock, and one of the combatants lay
senseless on the ground. Then my squire rang out an aggressive blast,
the knight was carried off, and I and the triumphant conqueror stood
face to face in the lists. I could not see his face, for his vizor
was down, but I recognised by his shield the knight of Berghausen, a
bull-necked stalwart chief who had been the favourite of the wagerers.
The air was rent by shouts as he pranced proudly round, which he
acknowledged by a slight inclination of his head; and when I advanced,
I could see that he looked me over from top to toe, observed my weak
arm and slim build, and made sure of an easy victory. Then we wheeled
our horses round, and after doing our obeisance to the Queen of Beauty,
took up our positions at the further end of the lists and awaited the
signal of the herald. After three blasts from his attendant trumpets
he cast down his wand, and scarcely had it touched the ground when we
put spurs to our steeds and met in the centre of the lists. His spear
only touched my armour when it shivered into a thousand fragments;
while mine, blunted as it was, would have done him no further injury
than to unhorse him had it not broken off at the end, and by some
mischance pierced him through the eye, and to my astonishment and
horror, stretched him lifeless upon the ground. The ladies shrieked,
and there were angry murmurs among the Lord of Berghausen’s men;
several of his knights made for their horses and lowered their vizors,
but the Count of Schneckenstein signed to a body of his men-at-arms
to form up between us, and, frowning fearfully, summoned me as the
victor to accompany him before the Queen of Beauty. ‘I cannot accuse
you of want of skill, Sir Knight,’ he said, ‘for none but a skilful
knight could have withstood the Lord of Berghausen, who was doubtlessly
born under an unlucky star; nevertheless, we did not look for such
an end.’ At this moment we came up to the throne where Hildegard sat
blushing among her attendants; and the Count bade me remove my vizor
and kneel down to receive the wreath. ‘_Himmelkreuzdonnerwetter!_’ he
ejaculated, starting back a pace or two; ‘why, it is our Wolfram!’ He
gasped with rage, the big veins stood out from his forehead, and he
cried out to the guards to seize me and instantly clap me in one of
the most loathsome cells beneath the donjon keep. But Hildegard rose
from her seat, and with a glowing face waved back the men-at-arms who
were already advancing. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘is this the way you keep
your plighted word? Did you not offer my hand to whomsoever should
prove victorious; and because the victor proves to be one of your
own household, is he, he who has brought honour to your roof, to be
refused?’ I seized her hand and kissed it, while the Count seemed to be
irresolute, and finally bade me ‘take off those things’ and return to
my duties while he thought the matter over.
There was some trouble about the death of the Knight of Berghausen.
His followers wished to have me delivered up to them for punishment,
and swore that it was a foul stroke: but the Count would not listen
to them. ‘I will bury your Lord with pleasure in the most honourable
way,’ he said to them; ‘but Wolfram is of gentle birth and there is
no dishonour in dying by his hand. ’Tis all fortune and chance: had
the knight killed Wolfram, though he be of my own house, I should have
borne him no malice. _Potztousand_, why all this fuss?’ And I verily
believe that their grumbling did my case good; for the Count was
thereby forced to take my side, and so came to think better of me.
Nevertheless, he would not listen to my suit; and once when I ventured
humbly to recall to him the labours I had undertaken for the promised
guerdon, he only answered: ‘Away, and be thankful that so far you have
escaped my resentment, nor let me cast eyes upon you if you love your
skin.’
I therefore kept beyond his view; for, indeed, his nature was hot:
but I ventured, whenever I got the chance, to throw myself in the way
of Hildegard, and from exchanging a few words, we came, little by
little, to meeting often as ’twere by chance; and thence to talk, to
confidences, and so to mutual love. But I was constantly in fear lest
her confessor should get wind of the affair and reveal our secret to
the Count, and so either get me banished, or get her married to one
of her many suitors, or, perchance both. I therefore in one of our
conversations urged my fears, to which she replied that, indeed, they
were well founded, and that she dare not dispute her father’s will.
Then I urged her to fly with me beyond the power of her father, but
this she feared to do: ‘Nay,’ says she, ‘that would be evil.’ Again I
urged the certainty of our separation, that it was her father who had
done evil in breaking his parole: for had he not pledged her hand to
the victor in the tournament? Could she bring herself to be the wife
of another? At this she wept and bemoaned her hard fate, compelling
her either to disobey her father or to lose her lover; and shortly
afterwards we were forced to part; but I had reason to hope that
another attack would bring her to yield, and therefore went to consult
my squire, him of the evil countenance, who since the tournament had
joined the body of the Count’s men-at-arms, but who was really only my
valet. I ordained him to have a couple of horses waiting at the postern
gate so soon as it became dark, and, when the time arrived I took my
mandoline and sang these verses beneath her bower:
Listen, fair maid, to a lover’s prayer!
Wilt thou not hear me, my own sweetheart?
Bid me, oh, bid me not despair!
Then say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Oh, list to me, darling, my life, my soul,
Oh, list to me, darling, my own sweetheart!
I only live now thy love to gain;
Wilt thou not love me a little, sweetheart?
Let me not think I love in vain;
Then say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Oh, say thou dost love me, my life, my soul,
Oh, say thou dost love me, my own sweetheart
Tell me, my love, thou wilt be mine:
Wilt thou not say it, my own sweetheart?
I’ve given my love, then give me thine;
Oh, say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Wilt thou not say it, my life, my soul,
Wilt thou not say it, my own sweetheart!
And if thou dost thy love deny
(Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my own sweetheart!)
Then I must lay me down and die!
Oh, say me not nay, my true love, I pray,
Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my life, my soul,
Thou’lt ne’er be so cruel, my own sweetheart!
I had hardly finished, when her adorable figure appeared on the
terrace. She flew into my arms, and weeping, said: ‘No, Wolfram, I am
not cruel, I have given thee my love as thou hast given me thine.’ We
exchanged some love passages, and then I told her of my preparations;
how the horses were now in readiness, and I drew a picture of herself
in the arms of some lord chosen for her by her father and myself pining
in banishment; then, falling on my knees, I besought her to prove her
love for me and to fly upon the instant. She wept an abundance of
tears, but, nevertheless, at that moment she could deny me nothing,
and, to my inexpressible joy, she yielded, though beside herself for
fear. Yet so great was her confidence in me, and so great her horror of
our separation, that she allowed me to lead her out, and we were soon
mounted and on our way.
My squire had informed me that a castle was provided for us, and
thither we urged our steeds: but I hope my bride saw not what I saw on
the way, hideous shadowy forms, that seemed to wring their hands and
wail, while others seemed to urge us on in fierce diabolic delight. We
rode along, hand in hand, neither of us seeming to have any heart for
talk, as lovers should have, for we were both of us too much absorbed
with our own thoughts: Hildegard with the step she had taken in running
away from her father and I with terrible fears of the danger into which
I had led the confiding girl. At length our guide pointed out a black
spot crowning a rocky height, which, as he informed me, was to be our
home. To reach it, we had to descend into a deep and dark ravine, in
the depths of which we could hear, though not see, a rushing torrent.
We scrambled down to it with some difficulty and danger owing to the
darkness, but would not have ventured to cross had not a blue flame
suddenly shot up from the bank at the opposite side just where the
ford was, and showed us where we might safely pass. So frighted was
Hildegard that she clung as close to me as our horses would permit,
nor would anything have persuaded her to go forward had not her fear
of returning equalled her present fear. From the depths of the ravine
we toiled up a rocky narrow path until we came to the outworks of the
castle, whence continuing between embattled walls we arrived at a
frowning and gloomy portal. I had never seen the place before, nor,
indeed, knew that such a castle existed in the neighbourhood. It is
true that I had heard that in the direction which we had taken there
was a haunted wood in which no hunter would dare to allow the shades of
night to overtake him, and many were the tales I had heard of the awful
things that had been seen there; and belike for this reason my lord of
Schneckenstein never cared to turn his footsteps that way,--certainly,
I had followed our guide the more readily because I considered that
we were in less danger of pursuit in this direction than had we taken
another, but the horrors of our ride and the eerie aspect of the
castle, I think, had begun to shake my nerves, and had I not had to
comfort and reassure Hildegard I do not think that I should have had
courage to go on. Though the night was dark, and our way had only
been illumined by some fitful moonbeams that stole out between the
scudding clouds, yet every stone of the old crumbling walls was visible
to us clothed in a sort of phosphorescent light of their own, but the
casements were mere black cavities, excepting a row of great windows in
the distance belonging as I guessed to the banqueting hall, which were
all lit up with a ruddy glow which waned and again waxed as if from
the flames of a furnace. Yet all was deathly silent, though we were
near enough to have heard sounds of revelry had there been any, as the
lights indicated. When we halted at the edge of the moat, the vapours
from the stagnant waters of which smote our nostrils like the poisonous
steams of the plague, we could see no watchman or warder, nor indeed,
was there any sign of life visible. Then my squire sounded a discordant
blast on his horn that seemed to freeze the very marrow in our bones,
upon which the drawbridge slowly descended with many creaks and groans,
and we passed into the courtyard. Here, however, we still saw no one,
but he of the evil countenance seemed to reck of none of these things,
and merely motioned us to a crumbling archway which stood in the corner
beyond a ruined fountain. We entered, and found ourselves on a dark
but broad stone staircase, that led into a hall or banqueting chamber,
spacious enough, but merely lit at the further end by a few ill-burning
sconces sufficient to show that the table was spread. We were hungry
after our ride and all the fears we had gone through and took our seats
at the daïs at the head of the table; whereupon a trumpet sounded and
in trooped men-at-arms and varlets, at least so they seemed to be, but
they were all clad in some sort of grey stuff that gave them a sort
of shadowy look, and all wore their hoods drawn over their heads so
that their visages were hidden. One only saw here and there an eye
which shone with a strange lambent flame such as I had never before
seen in human countenance. They made their obeisance, and there they
sat as silent as death, and had we not noted now and again a turn of
the head or seen them raise their hands to their mouths, we should
have thought indeed that we were in the company of the dead. Even as
it was, Hildegard was in an agony of terror, and whispered, asking me
whither I had brought her. Amidst such chill surroundings it was some
comfort to see the meats smoking on the board, but when I had helped
my Hildegard and myself, we found them icy cold, insomuch that some
fear began to enter even into my heart, small as the matter was; but,
taken with all that had gone before, I think I had some cause for
fear. Poor Hildegard could not touch a morsel, but sat looking at me,
afraid to show how fearful she was, and indeed, I had much ado to put
on a cheerful countenance, for it was not a cheerful feast. The hall,
as I have said, was only dimly lighted, and such vagrant moonbeams as
managed to struggle through the heavily mullioned windows seemed but to
make more spectral the grey and silent guests. The roof was in utter
darkness, and here and there it seemed to be gone, disclosing through a
tangle of rafters a few dim and distant stars. Outside, the wind moaned
drearily, and ever and anon a gust shook the mouldy tapestry that still
festooned the walls, causing them to wave to and fro so that the faded
figures worked into them seemed to be endued with life, and looked all
the more weird in the flickering of the torches. Now and again, too, an
owl or a bat, attracted by the light, would brush past, almost touching
the table, so that neither of us could do more than sit still and
look, for we were deprived of all appetite for food. After the feast
had proceeded for some space, one of the figures, who appeared by his
habit to be the seneschal, rose up in his place, and in a hollow voice
spoke words of welcome for the bride and bridegroom; then he bade his
fellows fill their cups and drink to us--to our +ETERNAL DAMNATION+!
They all arose in their places, and as they did so, their hoods fell
from their heads and each one was revealed to us as a skeleton; as
they waved their cups in their bony hands, blue flames shot up from
them which they poured down their cavernous jaws; but we saw no more,
for Hildegard had swooned in my arms, while I, in a frenzy of fear and
horror, had seized her up, and rushed with her into the ruined chapel
which opened into the hall behind our seat.
Here all was quiet. The pale moonbeams struggling with the rising
dawn shone coldly through the broken windows upon the many sculptured
monuments of priests, and lords and ladies who once had lived here, but
now were mouldering into dust. With warm kisses upon her icy forehead
I restored my darling back to life, and she had hardly come to, when,
seeing where she was, she threw herself before the altar and clasping
my hand in hers, commended our souls to God. Shouts, and howls, and
blasphemies, together with the rattling of bones, resounded from
the hall without, while, as if awakened by these cries, horror upon
horror! the graves gave up their dead, and the chapel began to fill
with filmy gibbering ghosts in numbers that continued to wax until the
chapel became so full that they seemed to stand within each other,
and crowded, pressing threateningly around us. With a mind full of
anguish I looked at Hildegard, fearing that she would go mad with
horror and fright, and would, if I had dared, have cursed my folly for
my impatient dallying with the Evil One; but the brave girl seemed
to gather more courage as the need for it became the greater, and,
throwing her arms about my neck, prayed earnestly and without ceasing.
Still the ghosts thronged nearer, with everincreasing threatenings, and
forms of demons seemed to arise out of them that pressed into the front
rank and made as though they would seize us. Nearer they came, and I
felt redhot claws searing into my flesh, but Hildegard still remained
untouched as though some heavenly power were guarding her. Me, however,
they seized, and they were dragging me away, though she clung to me
with tears and prayer, when a sudden inspiration came to her; she tore
off the crucifix she had been wearing and threw it round about my neck.
With a howl the demons started back, but only for a moment, and then
one among them pierced her with a dart, and she fell cold and dead into
my arms. What happened after that I know not. I seemed to fall into an
ecstasy, and see a troop of angels come down, whose very sight put all
the ghostly forms to flight. They seemed to lift my Hildegard up and
bear her away to Paradise, while the ground rose up, the walls of the
castle fell, and I found myself lying on the bare rocks in a desert
place as the morning sun began to gild the clouds. Only the crucifix
which my sainted love had placed about my neck remained to show that
what we had suffered was aught but an awful dream. I staggered to my
feet, and guiding myself by the sun, set forth to expiate my sins at
Rome, if it were possible to save my sinful soul; and so, wandering on,
I presently found myself at Marseilles, where I took ship, and the next
day in a calm was captured by these heathens. This is my story. If I
die now, I shall die damned, and never meet my Hildegard again.
* * * * *
By these stories and the like, our labours were somewhat beguiled, but
it was a fearful life; and though owing to our numbers, our work was
not so heavy as it would have been had we been the slaves of any one
but the Dey, yet, so terrible were his moods that no one who came near
him, not even the greatest of his subjects, was ever safe from the most
horrible of deaths. To work too fast or too slow, to salute him or not
to salute him, were equal offences in his eyes. When he stirred abroad
it was always on horseback, and any horse he had once bestridden it
was death for any meaner person to back. Before him went the greatest
of his officers, then came a cavalcade of soldiers galloping hither
and thither, and executing marvellous feats of horsemanship while they
fired their small arms into the air or into the ground. He himself was
surrounded by black slaves, some running before and some behind, while
it was the office of one to carry an umbrella over him, and woe betide
him if he let one ray of sunshine touch his countenance. In his hand
he always carried a dart with which he would transfix any one that
angered him, and beside him ran another slave, whose only office it
was, when his master darted his weapon into the air, which he would
do when it irked him to carry it any longer, to catch it before it
fell; in which, if he failed, as like as not the Dey would order him
to be tossed, which is a punishment peculiar to the Turks, and done in
this manner. Four or five strong blacks seize upon him on either side,
and stooping a little, suddenly straighten their backs at the same
time throwing him up with all their strength, with his feet upward, so
that he pitches down with his head foremost. In this by much practice
they are so dexterous that they can make him fall how they please, and
according as the Dey signs to them they either break his neck at the
first toss or let him fall on his shoulder, when at another sign they
will toss him again until he be dead, or the Dey signify that it is
enough. Others of the Dey’s slaves are scarred all over by his dart,
and in particular that one which bears his umbrella, for at the least
offence he will make use of it. Indeed, to show what sort of a temper
he hath, and how terrible he is, I cannot do better than relate a story
that was credibly told me of his youth, when he was newly come into his
kingdom.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF HELIODORA._
At the time the Dey was newly come into his kingdom, he was warring
not only with the Christians by sea, but also against his brothers
that contested the kingdom against him at his father’s death; when he
not only showed his people that he was a lion in the fight, but also
showed them that he was a better general, young as he was, than any
emir his brothers could bring against him. Now it happened, after that
he had won several great victories, and driven his brothers to take
refuge in the mountains with such few of their followers as remained
to them, he retired to Algiers, where he sought to consolidate his
kingdom and rest for a while from the fatigues of war. Nor had he
been there long, when his fleet arrived in port, having on board much
riches plundered from the Christians, and also many slaves, among whom
was a most beautiful Greek girl whom the captain had brought as a
present for his sovereign. This slave indeed was a miracle of beauty,
a very jewel, barely seventeen years of age, and such as one might
scarcely conceive to exist in the flesh or in any other way than in
the conception of the great sculptors of ancient times. I need not
say that no sooner had the Dey seen her than he fell deeply in love,
insomuch that he could take no delight out of her company, and his
love increased little by little until he utterly neglected the affairs
of his kingdom, leaving his emirs to do as they pleased, and oppress
and plunder the people, while the enemy that was before utterly routed
and obliged to skulk in caverns and difficult places, began again to
take heart of grace in the general disorder, and so to harass the
kingdom that there was no security or peace from end to end. In these
circumstances the Janissaries, or soldiers, began with open voice to
murmur, complaining that their lord consumed his life effeminately
and that they were left without employment while the kingdom went to
ruin; while the poor commonalty were oppressed on the one side by their
rulers, and on the other by the enemy, so that they too began to broach
open sedition, saying that their lord was no lord for them, since he
conferred no profit on the kingdom but allowed them to be eaten up
from without and within. Yet there was none that durst declare any of
these things to the Dey, for they all knew his terrible humour: and,
moreover, he was so deeply steeped in love for the beautiful Greek
that it was no light thing to draw him away from her. Thus it was that
his people began to despair of a remedy, and began to be of one mind
to yield no more obedience to him, but to choose some other prince to
be Dey, more martial and more warlike, that would rid the kingdom of
its enemies and make the emirs give some account of their government.
Now, among the counsellors of the Dey, there was one that was called
Hamed, the greatest favourite that he ever had, who had come almost a
boy into his army, and had distinguished himself in several actions.
Having thus come under the young Dey’s notice, and being, moreover, a
youth of great parts, frank and noble, and of a merry humour, the Dey
grew into great familiarity with him, insomuch that he allowed him to
enter his presence whenever he would. This Hamed was heartily grieved
at the infatuation of his master and the danger into which he had
fallen of being bereft of his kingdom, and resolved that, come what
might, he would seek to draw him away from the Greek. When, therefore,
he perceived a convenient time, such as he desired to have, he repaired
to the Dey who was walking alone in his garden, and after he had made
great reverence according to the custom, he said: ‘My sovereign lord,
if thou wilt permit me to speak freely without fear, I have that to
tell thee which greatly concerns thy State, and what is still more
important to all thy loving people, the safety of thy own person.’ To
which the Dey answered merrily: ‘Cast aside all fear and speak freely
what is on thy mind, for who shall speak to me if thou mayest not?’
Then Hamed continued: ‘I doubt that what I say may be displeasing to
thee, but believe me that nothing but the love and reverence I have
for thee compels my tongue to wound thy ears; and indeed, I fear that
I have kept silence too long.’ He then proceeded to tell him as gently
as he could, what was the state of his kingdom, how the enemy were
pressing upon him, how the emirs governed and oppressed the people, and
how the people murmured; so that the kingdom was ripe for rebellion,
and there was already talk of deposing him and appointing a new Dey.
Then he exhorted him to attend to the government and leave off his
slothful life. ‘Be now,’ he continued, ‘a conqueror of thyself, and
separate thee from thy slave; or, if so be the Greek delight thee so
much, who shall prevent thee from carrying her with thee on all thy
expeditions, and why canst thou not both enjoy her company and use the
practice of arms? And if I have spoken anything disagreeable to thy
mind, pardon the same according to thy wonted clemency, and impute
the fault rather to my sense of duty, and the care that I have of thy
honour and safety.’ The Dey, when he had listened to the discourse of
his friend, stood as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt: his
eyes were fixed upon the ground, his chest heaved, his breath came
fast and thick, his colour changed, the veins in his forehead swelled,
and, in short, he discovered every sign of agitation and unquietness
of mind, insomuch that Hamed, seeing him in these alterations, was
in doubt of his life. A furious battle raged in the mind of the Dey,
for he knew that Hamed had spoken the truth, while on the other side
the beautiful eyes of Heliodora seemed to plead with him to continue
in his perfect love and happiness, and the idea of abandoning her was
as though he contemplated tearing his own heart from his bosom. With
great rage he turned upon Hamed and said: ‘Before the sun shall once
again turn in the heavens, I will let thee and others know what power
I have over myself, and whether I am able to bridle my passion or no.
Bid the emirs and bashas and grandees, and the captains and principal
men assemble to-morrow in the great hall of the divan, where I will
meet them, and now, if you value your life, be gone!’ The next day, all
the emirs and bashas and grandees, and all the principal men, together
with Hamed, were assembled in the great hall of the divan, wondering
what the Dey’s words had portended, when, to the sounds of drums and
cymbals, the Dey entered, leading Heliodora by the hand. When he had
come to the throne, he stood still, and cried with a loud voice: ‘Ho,
emirs and grandees, it has been brought to my understanding that ye
complain I devote too much time to this fair being, to the neglect of
the affairs of my kingdom, and that I am weak and unable to overcome my
passion and am unworthy any longer to command you.’ Then he drew the
veil from the face of Heliodora, and all present were amazed at her
beauty, insomuch that they could only murmur Allah! Allah! extolled
be the perfection of Him who hath fashioned thee! And they placed
the finger of admiration in the mouth of wonder, and stood there dumb
as fish newly taken from the seas. Then the Dey said to them: ‘Which
among you that possessed this miracle would have done otherwise than I
have, or would have endured any moment apart from her?’ To which the
assembled great men of the kingdom cried with one voice: ‘None of us, O
Dey; may we be your sacrifice, had it been vouchsafed to us, we should
have done even the same!’ ‘And which among you,’ cried he, ‘would have
done as I do?’ And so saying, he drew the glittering falchion from his
side, seized the fair Heliodora by her yellow hair, and drawing her
head back, cut her ivory throat with one stroke from ear to ear, so
that she fell on the ground, and her life’s blood welled out over his
feet. With a terrible frown he commanded them straightway to assemble
their men-at-arms, and to meet him the next day to march against the
enemy, when he fought as even he had never fought before; for he raged
among them as a lion that has lost its whelps, until they were utterly
defeated, and those of his officers who had oppressed the people, he
caused to die by the most horrible of deaths, nor did he pass over any
dereliction of duty in any one, so that people hardly dared to move
for fear of him, and they regretted that they had aroused him from his
sloth. For many years he was never seen to smile, but waged incessant
war with all the tribes round about until old age grew upon him; but
even at the present day it is whispered that he starts and weeps and
groans in his sleep, and agonised cries still ring through the palace
in the dead of night of ‘Heliodora!’
* * * * *
Such is his character, yet, when it pleases him, he cares for none
of the state and appanage of his magnificence, and will go a-hunting
like any other man, enduring heat, and thirst, and fatigue. On these
occasions, a body of slaves go before, bearing with them the camp
equipage, and such of his women as it pleases him to have with him,
on a train of camels, which are marvellous tall beasts, having a neck
twice as long as a horse, and a great hunch growing out of the midst of
their back, as big as a peck. They are covered with wool something like
a sheep, and are cloven-footed like them, yet their feet are round,
something about the size of a trencher, and soft, so that they can walk
equally well on the hard rock or yielding sand. Their strength is very
great, for they will carry as much on their backs as four horses, and
continue marching at a slow pace for two score hours without meat or
rest. Now, it so befell that the Dey bethought him of setting out on a
hunting expedition in the mountains, and I among the other slaves set
out the day before in the manner that I have described. When we had got
into the wild and rugged parts, we made our way to a delightful valley,
into which there was only one entry, through a long and narrow gorge,
by the side of a mountain torrent. This valley was wholly surrounded by
mountain cliffs, whose scarped, inaccessible faces added beauty to the
scene, by the veins of colour, blue, green, and red, that ran through
them in wavy lines. The valley itself was a verdant garden, watered by
the torrent of which I have already spoken, through which it rushed in
a series of miniature cascades, sprinkling its mossy and fern-covered
banks with sparkling diamonds as it pursued its impetuous course, and
ever and anon spreading into broad, quiet pools, that lay smiling in
the sunshine. Here we pitched the tents, amidst groves of oleander and
palms, on a carpet of flowering plants of every sort and kind, that
gladdened both the eye by their rich colours, and the senses by their
subtle perfumes; that is, we pitched the pavilion of the Dey, and the
tents for his women and their slaves, and raised huts of branches for
his immediate servitors; but all the hunters and the guard were posted
outside the valley, which could not be entered or departed from, save
by the gorge through which we had come. On one side of the stream
were the servants and on the other, hidden by the groves, the tents
and ground devoted to the women, where no man excepting the Dey might
intrude, save at those times when they were confined to the inclosure
walled by camelcloth, and guarded without and within. Then we, that is
I and the other slaves appointed thereto, worked in the garden, and
made art look more natural than nature.
On one of these occasions, overcome by the heat of the sun, I had
stolen aside to an inviting thicket of tamarisk, and lay down in the
shade to sleep. How long I slept I know not, but I was awakened by
women’s voices, and, looking forth, saw that I had slept too long, and
the women were disporting themselves in the garden. My position, I need
not say, was one of great danger, and brought fear even to my spirit;
for I well knew that, were I discovered, I were as good as dead. One
shriek from a woman, and I should be instantly cut down by the swords
of the guardians of the seraglio, and even if my life were preserved
for a few hours, it would only be to die a worse death by the orders
of the Dey. Although this fear was ever before me, yet could I not
restrain my curiosity to look forth, and creeping forward with the
utmost caution, perceived two women walking toward me, one of which
that walked before, seemed to be sorrowful, while the other, a slave,
seemed to be trying to divert her with cheerful talk. It was clear
that the first was a favourite of the Dey’s, for she was dressed in
the richest garments of heavy silk, embroidered with pearls, the sash
round her waist was shot with gold, gold ornaments hung from her neck
and arms, and her hair, plaited into a thousand strings, was one mass
of glittering little coins. Dazzling as was the beauty of her dress,
no eye that once reached her face could again leave the enchanting
view; for her countenance combined all that was most beautiful in
feature with a nobility of expression that revealed the rare dignity
of her soul. To say that I forgot the danger of my position, that my
senses deserted me in the entrancing contemplation of so divine a
being, would but poorly express the sentiments I felt. I was like a
sparrow feebly fluttering down from his secure perch into the jaws of
a jewelled serpent; only the comparison would be unjust, inasmuch as
she was as innocent as the dove, nor was she aware of my presence. Just
as I was weakly staggering forth from the friendly concealment of my
bower to throw myself at her feet, and so consummate my ruin, my good
star willed that she should pause, and turning to her companion she
said: ‘Zuleika, the sun waxes warm, and my heart is oppressed; leave
me for a time to repose in solitude, and perchance I may sleep.’ Her
words arrested me for the moment, for they were like the voice of the
nightingale complaining for the loss of its beloved; yet hardly had she
ceased, and again I was about to go forward before even the back of her
slave was turned upon her, when again I was arrested, for she began to
recite the following verses, which I made no doubt applied to her own
case:
What is there can ever ease me,
Or my gnawing sorrows let?
Would the joys of heaven e’en please me,
If I might not there forget?
Out, cruel Memory, cruel and partial!
Shall peace ne’er be mine again?
Though past joys thou dost remarshal,
In oblivion rests the pain.
Base Enchanter! Sorrows lightened
By half-memories sweet appear:
Happinesses past are brightened,
From all earthly dross made clear.
Art, O Memory, scarce was needed
Glamour o’er the past to shed;
Daily joys, almost unheeded,
Thou recall’st, now they are fled.
Thou recall’st each gentle sorrow--
Salt, that to my jaded taste
Savoured pleasures, when the morrow
Brought new joys and grief displaced.
Ah, sweet Memory! grant, I pray thee
This request: if I may not
Forget past happinesses, may the
Present at least then be forgot.
Hardly had she ceased this lamentation when I threw myself at her
feet. She was too amazed at my sudden appearance to cry out, and
before she could recover, I had told her in incoherent sentences of my
devotion and readiness to risk everything for her sake. She hastily
drew her veil over her face, but I could perceive that she was much
agitated, for she trembled violently, but at last commanding herself
sufficiently, she managed to ask me who I was. I told her that I was a
gentleman enslaved by the Dey, a slave like her; and renewed my offers
of assistance, forgetting for the moment my sad and powerless state.
Whereupon she wept, and warned me of my danger, and, indeed, the
danger to both of us if we were discovered. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘my servant
may return at any moment; we are at least companions in sorrow, and I
will contrive a meeting to-morrow, when we can talk more securely.’
I saw the wisdom of her words, and withdrew to my seclusion. Shortly
afterwards the slave girl returned, and they went away together, though
not without a parting glance from my mistress in my direction, that was
at once a warning to be careful and a reminder that I should meet her
again. Then, taking advantage of the overhanging bushes, I slipped into
the stream, and diving under water, regained the opposite bank unseen.
On the next day, after our morning work in the garden had been
performed, I did not linger behind, as I had done unwittingly before,
fearing lest I might be missed, but at midday, when everyone, from the
Dey to the meanest of his slaves, was wrapped in slumber, excepting
perhaps the guards, I slipped under a bush by the waterside, and
gathering some weeds, bound them about my head. Then I floated slowly
across, nothing showing above the surface of the water save the weeds,
until I arrived at the spot I had left the day before, when I lay
down and awaited my mistress. She came, I think, earlier than usual,
for the sun was still high though to my eager fancy I had awaited an
endless time. Then telling her slave that she felt sleepy, she bade her
keep watch within call that no one disturbed her, and hardly had the
girl left than I was beside her. She asked me many more questions as to
my condition, how long I had been a slave, and how I hoped to escape?
And partly in order that I might the better contrive how this might be
brought about, as well as to satisfy my curiosity, I begged her to tell
me her story, which she obligingly did as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF UMEIMEH._
I am a native of Maloola, a village situated in some respects similarly
to this present spot, for it lies among the mountains which cover the
country to the north of Damascus at the mouth of a ravine as narrow,
but more terrible, than the gorge through which we came here. Ah!
stranger, how the memories of my childhood welled up before me on that
occasion. How I pictured to myself my father’s house clinging to the
side of the cliff, and again fancied that I saw the figures carved upon
the rocks, of men in strange costumes, which I was told represented
the sons of our first father Adam. Days past, that, alas! can never
come again. How much happiness have I known since, followed by how much
sorrow! It is perhaps well that I knew not what was written upon my
forehead, or I should have anticipated the dart of Azrael before the
appointed time.
In this beautiful village I grew up tending my father’s goats in the
day-time among the mountains, while in the evening I assisted my mother
in her household duties. One day, as I was resting during the noontide
heat in one of the numberless tombs with which the mountains are
honeycombed, I heard the loose stones rolling outside, and presently
a youth entered and seated himself to rest. In some fear as to whom
the intruder might prove to be, I instantly retreated to the further
end of the tomb, which was in complete darkness, and whence I could
scan at my leisure the figure of the newcomer. I saw at once that he
was a youth of consideration such as I had never seen before, whether
in my own or in neighbouring villages. He was richly dressed in the
silks of Damascus, and was evidently on a hunting expedition in our
mountains. But since his dress proclaimed him to be a gentleman, I
felt reassured, and was, I confess, greatly taken with his face, which
was at once handsome and engaging. As I continued to contemplate him
from my safe retreat in the darkness, and wonder when he would leave
me at liberty to escape, he shifted his position slightly, when to
my horror I saw that he had disturbed a sleeping snake, one of the
most venomous known to me, which was already rising up on its coils
preparatory to striking him. In the darkness he could not see it, nor
did he move, and in another moment he would have been as good as dead,
but, before I knew what I did, I dashed forward and broke its back
with my crook; thus unwittingly revealing my presence to his amazed
sight. He started up, and laid his hand upon his sword, but when he saw
that I was merely a girl, he looked at me inquiringly as to what my
sudden action might portend. I pointed to the dead snake at his feet,
whereupon he saw at once what had happened, and drawing me forward to
the mouth of the tomb so that he could see me, kissed the hem of my
garment, and thanked me in a few honest words that went straight to
my heart, so that I forgot in my pleasure that he was a stranger, and
only his glance of admiration reminded me that my veil was not drawn
over my face. In haste and confusion I covered it, and was about to
fly from his presence, when he seized my hand, and lifting it to his
forehead, besought me to let him know to whom he was indebted for his
life? I told him my name, and my father’s name, whereupon he let me
depart, and I went out into the blaze of sunshine to gather together
my scattered flock, all the time thinking over my adventure with the
handsome stranger, whose face and mien and expression I found for
ever haunting my imagination. This was a new experience to me. I had
heard many stories and poems during the long winter evenings which
mostly turned upon the passion of love, and the extravagances which
two mortals will affect to win to one another, and I wondered whether
this that I felt within myself could be that passion? For, every
day, as I led my flocks to their pasture, my thoughts would recur to
this youth until his imaginary presence became a sort of companion
to me, so rarely was his image absent from my memory. One day not
long afterwards, my mother bade me prepare for marriage, and she was
sufficiently acquainted with the curiosity of her sex to inform me that
my intended husband was both young and handsome, and one of the richest
merchants of Damascus to boot. I need not tell you that I immediately
became the heroine of our village, the object of envy of all the girls,
regret of many, if not of all the youths, and dislike of the matrons.
Indeed, I would thoroughly have enjoyed the triumph of my position had
it not been for the memory of the bold unknown who had dared to speak
to me and to steal away my heart on that sultry day in the cave on
the mountain-side. What could I do, however, but obey my parents and
prepare for marriage, except sigh in solitude for what might have been?
You will readily imagine my joy, therefore, when I saw at the ceremony
of marriage, that my future husband was no other than the unknown whose
life I had saved in the cavern. In due course I received magnificent
presents; and on a certain Thursday night, after the preliminary
ceremonies, I was conducted under a crimson canopy to my husband’s
temporary residence. The unveiling brought no fears of disappointment
to me, for I knew that my husband had seen and loved me before. We took
leave of my parents after a short period of blissful happiness, and
removed to my husband’s home at Damascus. Every day he would sit in his
shop in the merchants’ bazaar, and after he had bought and sold, he
would return home and we would take the evening meal together, after
which we would resort to one of the public gardens of the town, where,
sitting by the flowing waters, amidst the whispering trees, where the
nightingale still sang his praises to the rose, we would enjoy the
cool fragrance of the evening, and, hand linked in hand, our souls
would commune together without any necessity for words. In this pure
enjoyment we subsisted for some time until it became necessary for my
husband to depart with a caravan of merchandise to Balsora. He took
leave of me with many touching expressions of love: and I, who had
never yet since our marriage been parted from him, could hardly bear
the thought of separation. I besought him to remain with me, alleging
my foolish fears for my loneliness. Are we not rich enough, I said,
for you to give over your travels in order that you may enjoy what you
have? But he only smiled and kissed me, saying that he would be away
but a few months, and then, _Inshallah!_ he might think of what I had
said. He bade me be of good cheer, but I was full of forebodings that I
should never see him more; forebodings which he laughed to scorn, but
which, alas! proved only too true.
Now the Wali of Damascus was a notorious evil liver who had not the
fear of God before his eyes. No justice was to be had from him for the
poor man, and his hand was heavy on the province, so insatiable was he
in his extortion. Nor was it any use for the inhabitants to complain,
for he was liberal in his bribes to those above him, and the more
he had to pay away in bribes, the more eager was he to replenish his
coffers by grinding the faces of his wretched people. Unfortunately
for my happiness, my reputed beauty had come to the ears of this man,
and he ardently desired to gain possession of me. Having learnt that
my husband was about to take a journey, he disguised some of his
Janissaries as Bedouins, and putting himself at the head of them, fell
upon the caravan suddenly and at night, a time when the real Bedouin
but rarely attacks. My husband was slain, and his servants put to
flight, but one, more faithful than the rest, concealed himself at a
little distance, and when the murderers had retired, returned, bringing
with him the corpse of my husband. Then the news spread fast that the
Bedouins had attacked and had scattered the caravan, and the Wali as
in duty bound came to inquire into the facts, for, of course, he was
responsible for the safety of travellers. He came into the mandarah,
where the corpse was laid out with the face turned towards Meccah, and
surrounded by weeping women, wailing and casting dust upon their heads,
while holy men were reciting verses from the Koran. I was watching the
Wali from behind my veil when he entered with the cadi and his other
officers. He pretended to be much moved, but I could see that he was
ill at ease: his looks were troubled, not as by grief, but as if he
feared the avenger’s stroke. Suddenly my husband’s mother, who had
been sitting by her son’s corpse wailing and never taking her eyes off
those loved features, knowing that in another hour he would be buried,
gave a great cry and started upon her feet. All turned and looked, and
behold! two dark streams of blood were flowing from the wounds towards
the Wali, and all knew that he was the murderer. He left abruptly,
bidding us bury the body at once, nor did we dare to accuse him of the
murder, and if we had, it would have been useless. Long afterwards, I
questioned a learned Hakim how it was possible that a body once cold
should bleed afresh when in the presence of the murderer, as if to cry
out before God against him who made the wound and divorced the soul
from the body, and he explained to me that by the virtue contained
within the hidden recesses of the corpse, the humours, and especially
those of the blood and of the bile, are moved and stirred within it,
insomuch that by a certain secret movement of Nature, not readily
to be understood, this interior virtue seems to require vengeance.
Thereupon, suddenly the bilious humour is stirred by a certain virtue
appertaining to the blood, and is moved and leaps within the vessels
because of the swiftness and promptitude of its movement. This humour,
then, being moved and inflamed, the blood is liquefied and runs forth
at the wound, which is the proper gate to show itself at. The vaporous
spirit contained within the blood then suddenly directs it straight
towards the murderer, especially should he look upon the corpse with
attention, which act causes the blood to swell within the wound by
reason of that wonderful and hidden motion by which the blood excites
its spiritual essence, and reciprocally, the spirits move the blood, so
that it flows once more. This shows the unreason of those, who, without
knowledge, philosophy, or science, would argue that the spirit of one
slain lingers for a while within the body, so weighed down is it by
the desire of vengeance, and hence, when the murderer approaches, it
becomes suddenly inflamed with anger, the blood is heated, and again
flows from the wound; while at the same time all the spirits of the
various parts fly together by virtue of their natural legerity, and
straightway being directed by the animosity of the soul, force the
blood in the direction of the murderer.
Be this as it may be, however, it was clear that the Wali was much
disturbed at this public evidence of his crime, and especially that it
had occurred in my presence: and, indeed, if it had been possible for
me to hate him worse than I already did, that would have made me do so.
After the funeral I remained in my house, not going forth for the space
of about a year, during which time my sole consolation was the hearing
of praises of my dead husband from his mother’s lips. She gave me his
history from his childhood upwards, enlarging upon the perfection of
his understanding and the strength of his lion-like heart, whence she
would commonly digress into the character of his father, her husband,
in whom, it seemed, had dwelt every virtue that it was possible for man
to have: fit father of so noble a son! When we had no more to say, we
broke out into sobs and tears together, which would relieve the black
humours from our veins and enable us to pass through the tedium of
another day. At length an old woman of our acquaintance called upon us,
and after condoling with me for a while upon my widowhood, she said:
‘But, after all, it is not good for women, neither is it respectable,
that a young woman like yourself should live unmarried and without
the care of a husband;’ and then she began the praises of the Wali,
who, she said, was a man of power to whom no parent in Damascus would
hesitate to give his daughter and feel highly honoured at the chance.
‘Nevertheless,’ she went on, ‘there is only one who can command his
heart: the report of thy beauty has penetrated to his ears, and he
desires only thee. What reply shall I make to him on thy behalf?’ I do
not know what reply I should have given, what torrent of abuse I should
have poured out in the fury of the moment, had not prudence come to my
aid in time for me to check myself. I got rid of her as best I could
by some excuse such as that I required time to think over so important
an offer, and as soon as she was gone gave free vent to the grief and
passion that consumed me at the memory of the murder of my husband and
the cynical effrontery of his murderer in demanding my hand. When I
had calmed somewhat, and could think over the situation, my thoughts
chased each other confusedly through my head. I could think no course
of action out, only one idea stood clearly before me: that of intense,
bitter, and undying hatred to the man who now sought me in marriage. In
marriage! Heavens! Was not this the hand of Allah who now threw this
man into my power? My husband’s blood still cried aloud for vengeance,
and, behold! after all these months the sword of retribution was placed
in my hand, and blood could be made to flow for blood! My mind was
made up, I grew calm and collected. In place of the whirl of confused
thoughts, but one, clear and unalterable, stood forth in my mind, like
the chiselled images we see upon the rocks. When the old woman called
again the next day, I managed to express a due sense of the honour that
the Wali conferred upon me by his choice, nor was it long after that
before I found myself his wife. Oh! how I loathed the man! As he lifted
my veil, my hand closed around the hilt of the tempered blade that lay
hidden in my bosom. For a moment he stood aghast at the face he saw, a
basilisk rather than a woman, in another moment my dagger was plunged
into his black heart, and he fell dead at my feet.
Leisurely I went to the box at the side of the room and arrayed myself
in male garments, over which I threw a woman’s cloak, and drawing my
veil over my face, went out by the back door, and mingling with the
festive crowd in the courtyard slipped out unnoticed into the street.
I had only one sensation, that of joy that my husband’s blood was now
avenged, and by me! For myself I neither thought nor cared whither I
turned my steps. In a few minutes, I rejoiced to think, my vengeance
would be discovered and it would be known that that vengeance was mine;
but I should be sought for high and low, and I did not choose that they
should find me so easily. Throwing aside my woman’s cloak, I passed
along in the shadow of the walls and as much out of the brilliant
light of the moon as was possible, and hurried along the labyrinth of
streets. Then, in the silence of the night, I heard distant cries and
the sound of horsemen, and knew that the Wali had been found and that
his guards were even now searching the town for me. How I hugged myself
for joy! But my vengeance would be more complete if they were unable to
find me, and there was no time to be lost. Seeing an open door, I went
inside, and casting myself at the feet of an aged lady whom I found
sitting there, and kissing the hem of her robe, I begged her to save
me from the avengers of blood. Without a word she rose up, and taking
me by the hand led me to a spot in the courtyard. Then she pressed a
particular stone in the wall, which turned on a pivot and disclosed
a hidden staircase. Down this she led me to an underground chamber,
magnificently furnished, decorated in gold and ultramarine, and lighted
by a silver lamp that hung from the ceiling. I had arrived at my hiding
place none too soon. Whether someone had noticed me and had notified
to the guards the direction in which I had gone, I do not know; but,
in any case, they were very soon at the entrance of the alley in which
my protectress had her dwelling. Across this they drew a guard, and
then proceeded to search every house. That of my protectress was the
last searched, but my hiding place remained undiscovered; indeed, the
searchers merely spoke to the lady for a short time and then looked
carelessly around. When they were gone, she called to me to come forth
from my chamber. Her tone was hard, and her features were changed. ‘Woe
to thee, unlucky one,’ she cried; ‘’tis well for thee that thou art
under my protection! The pursuers are gone. Him thou hast slain was my
son! What fate was it that made thee seek my hospitality? Go now, go in
peace, but never let me see thy countenance again!’ I fell at her feet
and thanked her, but she only motioned to me to leave her, and I went
forth into the night, saddened at the mother’s grief and wondering at
the magnanimity which had restrained her from delivering up the slayer
of her son, even though she had claimed her hospitality. Nevertheless,
my case was a parlous one. Whither should I go? I dared not return to
my village, or even pass through places that were peopled, nor could
I hide in the mountains, for there I should starve. There was nothing
for it but to throw myself upon the hospitality of the Bedouin who were
beyond the power of the Governor of Damascus. I made my way, therefore,
towards the desert, hiding by day and only travelling by night, my
sustenance being the fruit I could steal, and even that failed me as
soon as I got away from the watered lands. Then I travelled more boldly
in the day-time and was able to buy goat’s milk from the goatherds whom
I came across, until after the third day I came upon the black tents
of the Arabs, and going up to the Sheikh I claimed the hospitality due
to a stranger. I was soon, however, given to understand that I was a
prisoner. My fine clothes were demanded from me, and shabby old ones
were given me in their stead, my money was taken, and, by an unlucky
accident, my sex was discovered by which my fate was sealed. When the
tribe moved southwards I was sent to a slave dealer who did business
at Jaffa, where I was embarked for Constantinople, but the Moorish
pirates, who cared little whether they robbed friend or foe, Turk or
Christian, seized our vessel, and I was chosen by our present master as
part of his share of the plunder.
Having finished her story, Umeimeh urged upon me that it was no longer
safe to remain. I begged her, however, that she would vouchsafe to me
a minute or two more in order that we might think of some means of
escape together: for indeed at the first moment that I had set eyes on
her, I had seen how valuable an aid she might prove to me. The danger
of our meeting was too great to venture on often, and now that we were
together it was better to take the risk of a longer stay than the
greater risk of another meeting. As for the punishment were we caught!
the thought alone was too horrible to be pursued. After several plans,
which, alas! we found to be too dangerous or altogether impossible to
effect, she spoke as follows: ‘Know, oh, my Rustem, that it is the
custom of the Dey after the evening meal to sit awhile with some of
his women, who relate stories, or discourse music, or recite poetry
while he carouses. Now I have thought of a plan to gain his seal ring
from him, which, _Inshallah_, I shall put into effect on the night
that he returns from the hunt. If I am successful, I will hang a white
handkerchief from the bush, and when you see it you will come and bring
me across the river. If, however, it is written that I shall fail, you
will never hear of me again.’ Upon this I kissed her hand, and with a
heavy heart hid again in the bush while my would-be deliverer called
her slave and departed. Then I slipped back in the way I had come, and
by the mercy of God, was perceived by nobody. On the following evening
the Dey returned from hunting, and as the shades of dusk fell and the
slaves retired to their quarters, I watched with fear and trembling for
the sign which should warn me of perils to be encountered or of the
death of Umeimeh. The sickening tortures which I should suffer were I
discovered weighed nothing in the balance with the hope of freedom that
danced before my eyes, and I even ventured to address the head Syce,
warning him that two of the swiftest horses were to be ready to execute
the commands of his lord. How slow the moments dragged along! How my
heart palpitated with fears and hopes! What could I say as to the order
for the horses if I failed to obtain the seal ring of the Dey? What
means would Umeimeh adopt to get the ring? Even if she won it, would
she escape the vigilance of the guardians of the hareem? And if she
did, might not the Dey himself discover how he had been robbed--and
then!--Oh, merciful Providence! It is easy for me to sit here in my
cabinet writing the account of that eventful night, and for thee, O
reader, to read what I have written, but neither can I indite nor thou
comprehend the torture of that time or the awful consequences that the
slightest accident might have caused. At length, and perhaps hardly to
my relief, so highly strung were my nerves, I saw the signal displayed.
I slipped into the water, and had scarcely gained the opposite bank
when I found Umeimeh awaiting me. ‘Fly,’ she cried; ‘I have the ring,
but we have but a few hours before all will be known and we pursued!’
Then I carried her across, and when we had landed I perceived that she
was in the garb of one of the Dey’s guard, and had also brought a like
dress for me. When I had put it on, we glided through the trees to
the head of the pass and, going up to the guard, showed him the ring,
enjoined silence, and asked for the horses on service of the Dey. No
one dared speak a word; the horses were brought, and silently mounting,
we dashed off downwards towards the coast.
It was early night and we met no one, for even after we had passed
in our headlong career the wilds of the mountain, the people of the
villages through which we travelled were all asleep. As dawn began to
break the need of rest and food pressed upon us; and happening to light
upon a cavern a little to one side of the road, we thought it as well
to withdraw therein. For although we had the seal ring of the Dey with
us, and were safe until our flight should be brought to his notice, yet
it was as well to leave as little trace behind us of the direction and
the manner of our flight as possible. Having tethered our horses, we
opened the saddle-bags which I had been careful to provide, and took
our breakfast; and since it was necessary to give our horses an hour or
two’s rest, I desired Umeimeh to give me the relation of her adventure
in obtaining the ring, which she did as follows.
‘You must know,’ said she, ‘that it is customary for his majesty the
Dey to take his supper in the company of his favourite wife, surrounded
by all the luxury that the circumstances of such an expedition as his
present one can afford. Last evening he summoned his favourite as
usual, one Detma, whom I had bribed to feign that she was ill, for
it was necessary to my plan that I should be called. Accordingly
I attended him in his spacious dining tent which was lit up with a
thousand lights, and in one corner was a band of women discoursing
sweet music on the Kemengeh, ’Ood, Ney, and Kanoon, while slaves handed
the dishes, and when we had eaten our fill, placed the dried fruits
before us and filled our cups. The Dey had had a successful hunt and
his heart was dilated; he drained his cup in pledging me, and then
said: “Oh, Umeimeh, call forth the most skilled among my slaves that
she may divert us with her lute.” Upon this I ordered them to call
Helwa, a beautiful girl, who brought with her in a silken bag her lute,
all inlaid with ivory and ebony and sandalwood, and, after an obeisance
to the Dey, she seated herself and said: “Oh, my lord, what will it
please you that I sing? Something of the chase, or of war, or of love?”
Thereupon the Dey laughed, and replied: “Oh, sweet one of many songs,
sing me something of love, for women delight not in the chase or in
war.” Then, after a prelude, she sang as follows:
Come, come away!
My love, see how the moon on high
Doth light our path; fly with me, fly!
To where my tents and people lie;
Sweet love, away!
Nay, nay, oh, stay!
Alas! I dare not go, I fear
To leave my home: oh, stay, love, here!
Bid me not leave all I hold dear!
Must we needs go?
Yea, even so.
Oh, let not fear true love dissever!
Thou lovest, we are one for ever.
Then trust me, love, come with me, never
Again to part.
Be still, my heart!
My heart doth hold me on the rack,
It bids me go, yet holds me back,
To follow thee, and stay, alack!
Which shall I do?
To love be true!
Love asketh not where it shall go,
It hath no thought for fabled woe;
There is but one thing love doth know:
How to be true!
‘The Dey was delighted with the song, and ordered the girl’s mouth to be
filled with sweetmeats. Then other slaves sang some more songs until he
was satisfied, and after the servants had brought more wine, he bade
everyone retire. For a while he sat drinking and conversing with me, so
that the wine dilated his bosom, and taking up a cup, he put it to his
lips and then gave it to me, and I drank it. Then I filled another cup
and putting into it a lozenge of bhang, enough if an elephant were to
take it to make it drop down senseless, I put the cup to my lips, and
pledging him, said: “Oh, my lord, drink this, and gladden the heart of
thy slave.” Whereupon he took it from me and drank, and scarcely had
the wine reached his stomach when he fell back senseless and without
motion. Then I placed him upon his bed and drew the ring from his
finger, and, donning the dress of his guard, I lifted up a corner of
the tent and passed out, scarcely believing in my escape, and, by the
mercy of Allah, I met no one that knew my face. The rest you know: I
displayed my signal, and you saw it and conveyed me across the stream.’
We now thought it better to press on, as our horses were rested, and
in these parts there were no villages or inhabitants to see us go by.
Leaving the beaten track, we journeyed on until we again neared a
village, which we dared not pass in the daylight for fear lest those
who were doubtlessly already in pursuit of us might chance to come
that way and gain tidings of the direction in which we had gone. We
therefore turned aside into a wood that lay not far off, and, tethering
our horses, slept for a while. When it was become dusk, we rode forward
to the port of Cherchel which was not far off, and, turning neither
to the right nor the left, we went straight to one of the Dey’s
vessels that lay in the harbour there ready for sailing. I called the
captain aside, saying that I had somewhat of moment to communicate
to him, and, going down into the cabin together, when we were alone,
I showed him the Dey’s seal ring, and informed him that I was on a
particular mission, and that he was to set sail at once. The captain
was greatly surprised, and, after a moment’s thought, he whispered to
me, asking me if I had any news of the two runaway slaves? Concealing
my perturbation, I put my finger on my lips and bade him loose sail
at once. In a few minutes all was hurry on board, the sailors running
to and fro, and within a short time we were drawing fast through the
water. I felt tolerably safe, for it was plain that he did not suspect
us, and that, though our escape was known, yet the Dey had thought
fit to conceal the loss of his seal ring, which otherwise might have
been a great danger to me. But still it was better to learn all that
the captain knew, and therefore when we were well clear from the land
I again called him down into his cabin and made a show of taking him
into my confidence, saying that I was commissioned by the Dey to pursue
the fugitives of whose departure for France I had had knowledge, and
asking him how far the news was known? For that I feared that they
might have heard and so have been put upon their guard. ‘I only know,’
he replied, ‘that a few hours ago a courier arrived here who informed
the Governor of the escape of a Christian slave together with a woman
from the royal seraglio. It was thought that they could not get far
and would soon be starved out from their hiding place.’ I nodded once
or twice at these words, and then shaking my head said: ‘Yea, but they
are away already. This accursed Christian had planned his escape well;
they are now in an open boat making their way to Italy. But I and my
young brother know them well, and, _Inshallah_, we shall overtake
them before they are able to reach land.’ The wind held good, and we
sailed fast in the direction that I had ordered the captain to take,
that is to say, towards the town of Massiglia belonging to the kingdom
of France, nor did this excite his fears although it was further than
they usually ventured, for it was in that direction, as I informed him,
that the fugitives intended to go. Nevertheless I was in doubt as to
the wisdom of what I had ordered, for if we sailed near into the port
that I had named, and did not find the fugitives, which, indeed, was
not to be expected, seeing that we ourselves were they, I could hardly
prevent the captain from turning back to Cherchel. While debating this
point in my mind, I nevertheless felt confident of success, for we were
not suspected, and even if the sex of Umeimeh were discovered, I could
explain that she was my wife whom I did not wish to appear to carry
with me, for I had so thoroughly imbued him with the idea that the
fugitives were in an open boat that I felt he could never suspect us to
be the runaway slaves of whom he had been informed.
We had been sailing about twelve hours when the captain began to get
anxious about the appearance of the weather and ordered all possible
sail to be taken in. The clouds grew lead-coloured to windward, the
breeze dropped to nothing, there was a deathly brooding silence, and
the air seemed heavy and sultry. Even the gulls and other sea-birds
that had been following us seemed now unable to support the weight of
their bodies in the drowsy air and rested floating on the waves. Then
came a gentle sigh, which presently grew into a hiss, the idle canvas
that still remained spread began to flap, and in an instant after,
with a shriek and a yell as of thousands of infuriated demons, the
blast was upon us. Nothing could withstand it. In a moment our vessel
heeled over and lay on its beam ends unable to right itself for the
pressure of the wind, the waves freshened and grew from molehills into
mountains, then sinking into abysses they threatened every moment to
engulf us in their cavernous depths. The whole crew were struck with
a panic, as well they might be, for even I gave myself up for lost:
some wept, some beat their breasts, others shouted, urging that this
or that should be done, while others again stood as though they were
turned into stone. As the vessel slowly righted again after the first
pressure of the rushing hurricane had passed over, her bare masts, from
which all vestige of sail had been torn, kept her scudding before the
breeze, now riding high on a mountain of water, and the next minute
sinking deep before the advancing waves that seemed to chase us with
fiendish joy in order that they might curl over and engulf us in their
horrid depths; the wind all the while hurtling, skirling, whistling,
and shrieking over us, so that no order of the captain could have been
heard even if it could have been obeyed. No man durst leave hold of the
grip he had of any saving object lest he should instantly have been
swept overboard, as indeed many of the weaker were. Thus we raced on,
expecting destruction every instant, ignorant where we were, whither we
were going, or what might be our fate. It was not night, though it was
as dark as night, yet without the heavenly lanterns with which Nature
is wont to comfort the lonely hours of the mariner. Only frightful
flashes of lightning now and again illumined the seething masses of
water around us and enabled us to see more clearly the danger in which
we stood, followed by rolls of thunder that made even the most fearless
among us fearful, even myself. On a sudden the heavens seemed to open
above us, a ball of fire descended upon our devoted vessel, and in a
moment she was demolished and I found myself floating in the waves. I
struck out with desperation, for I was a good swimmer, but I well knew
that I had but a few minutes to live--buffeted as I was by the waves
and choked by the blinding spindrift, no man be he ever so strong could
hold out, when luckily I came upon a coffer floating by me upon which I
got astride and bound myself to it by my waistband. Soon after a sailor
who had by some means kept himself afloat seized hold of it, but I knew
that it could not support us both, and with my remaining strength I
threw him off and saw him sink with a sob beneath the boiling waters.
By this time the chief force of the hurricane seemed to have spent
itself, and though the water was still rough, it grew comparatively
quiet. The dawn came, and then the sun rose. I looked around as best I
could, but I saw nought but the wild waste of waters. Then I was lifted
up on the crest of a wave, when to my delight I perceived not far off
a rocky coast. I paddled with legs and arms in that direction as fast
as my enfeebled strength would allow me, but I seemed to get no nearer
and at last my remaining strength gave out. I could do no more but lay
prone upon my coffer until at length my senses failed me and I grew
unconscious.
When I came to myself again, I found that I lay stretched on the sand
in a little cove between the rocks, the hot sun was baking down upon
me, and an old woman was by my side chafing my hands. As soon as I
opened my eyes she thanked God in a sort of Italian tongue, and helping
me to rise, assisted me into her cottage which was situated close by.
For some days I remained so weak that I scarce was able to move, but
the old woman attended to all my wants, and I, being strong by nature,
soon recovered. When she perceived that I was out of danger of death
she clapped her hands and laughed and showed every sign of joy, which
somewhat disgusted me, for why should she show so much joy for the
recovery of one whom she had never seen before, and who was neither
her son nor any relation, as little to her as she was to me? Then she
knelt down before an image of the Virgin which hung on the wall, and
before which burned a small oil lamp, and in her idolatrous way gave
thanks for my recovery. I felt moved to break the image and to cast it
down, but abstained because I thought that it behoved me to show my
magnanimity before the poor ignorant creature who knew no better. After
another day, when I could get about, she asked me whether I had not
better put on other garments, seeing that mine were Turkish, and that
were I seen in them I might be brought to the galleys. I told her that
I had no others, but she said that my chest had been brought on shore
with me, and, belike, I had other garments therein.
I had forgotten the chest, and tried to open it, but finding that it
was locked, I told her that I had lost the key, and taking a large
stone, I broke it open. At the top were a few rags of clothing, but
lifting these up I was astonished to find that it was full of bags of
gold pieces and jewels, a very fortune that no doubt had belonged to
the captain of the wrecked vessel. I hastily closed the trunk again,
and said that I grieved to find that all my Christian garments had
been stolen; whereupon she gave me a new suit, which, she told me,
had belonged to a son of hers who was lost at sea, whether drowned or
captured by pirates she had never heard: nor did she ask me any more
questions, since she knew not that I had been a slave, but believed the
story I had told her of my having come from Malta. I say, she gave the
suit of clothes, which became me very well, and told me that there was
a ship now in the harbour ready for sailing to Massiglia. I thanked
her, and bade her get me a passage, which she did, coming back with
two seamen to carry my chest. She did not expect any recompense for
her care of me, but I would not part without bestowing upon her my old
clothes together with those which I found in the chest, which, indeed,
were no use to me, and then, bidding her farewell, I accompanied the
two men to their vessel.
The finding of so much of value in the chest was some recompense to me
for the loss of my merchandise by the pirates of Algiers. Indeed, one
bag of jewels alone would have more than made up for that. This proves
how the heavens protect those who trust in the true faith, and though
they may be cast down and grievously tried for a time, yet, if they
withstand temptation as I have done, and prove steadfast, their losses
shall be returned to them tenfold. The vessel I now embarked in I found
to be the Tonnerre, whose master was named Jean le Houx, a worthy man,
who asked no questions and received me readily enough. In a few hours
he had loosed sail, and we were gliding under a fair breeze for our
port.
As I lay in my cabin, I could not forbear to think of all that I had
gone through and of my lucky escape, for which I had to thank my
boldness and readiness of resource. I thought of my former attempt and
of the fate of Reyya, and how this my last and successful attempt had
also proved fatal to Umeimeh. I had not a doubt that she had perished
in the wreck, though I had not seen her body among those that had
been washed ashore; but this mattered little, since being an infidel,
Christian burial would have availed her nothing. Though I pitied her
sudden fate, for being a man of feeling I cannot resist such tender
recollections, yet it was, perhaps, better for her as it was, for what
could have become of her? Dismissing these thoughts from my mind, I
went on deck and saw that we were at that moment entering the port of
Massiglia. At length I was safe, I had entered a Christian country.
Though it was but French, at least there was no longer any danger of
slavery, and I observed with joy the port filled with galleys in every
one of which was a crowd of slaves, the greater number of which were
the false followers of Mahomet, mixed with a few of the sweepings of
the jails of Europe.
Taking leave of the captain, whom I thanked for his courtesy in giving
me a passage, I went on shore, and then bethought me what I should do.
To acknowledge myself destitute was to court imprisonment, for the
French will not suffer vagrants, as we do, or sturdy beggars to stroll
about the country. To be sure I could have taken service with Monsieur
le Houx, but I had had enough of the risks of a seafaring life, and I
could not bear the thought, after all my sufferings with the Moors,
that I might run the chance of being captured again. M. le Houx, who
asked me what I meant to do, on being informed that I intended to
make my way to England across France, gave me a letter to one Jacques
Vaillant who had married his sister, together with a few pieces of
money that I would not refuse lest I should thereby betray my riches.
Riches did I say? I dared not be rich, for were I to endeavour to sell
any of the jewels that I possessed I feared that it might be thought
that I had come by them in no honest way, and any excuse would be taken
to deprive me of all that I had. Therefore, carefully disposing as much
as I was able about my body, and the rest in a pack upon my back, I
departed on foot for Avignon. Beneath the ancient walls of that town I
arrived in due course without adventure of any moment, save such as was
occasioned by my anxiety for the safety of the treasure that I carried
with me, an anxiety that made me to see in every wayfarer a possible
thief, and to pass every wood and rocky place in fear. Once arrived
at Avignon, I betook myself to a hostelry hard by the palace of the
Bishops of Rome, where I gave out that I was well to do and that my
baggage would shortly follow after me. Then I inquired for a goldsmith
of credit with whom I changed some of my gold, and so, furnishing
myself with a good equipage and new clothes, I cut a very different
figure than I had hitherto done. Henceforward I travelled in safety
with other merchants of repute through Valence to Lyons, and so onward
to Macon and Dijon, where I did not deliver the captain’s letter, lest
questions inconvenient to answer might be asked.
I will not here set down what else befell me in the remainder of my
journey through Chatillon to Troyes and Paris, whence I descended the
river Seine to Havre, though much passed that might be entertaining to
relate and pleasant to hear. Suffice to say that I hurried on, eager
for but two things, the one to keep my riches safe, and the other to
see my beloved country once more. At Havre I found a paquet boat in
which I embarked, to arrive safely after all these years of misery and
exile in Portsmouth.
Ah! how can I describe to those who have never felt what it is to be
divorced from their country and held for long years in bondage and
tribulation, what joy I felt in once more landing a free man in my
native land! Like the Conqueror, I longed to fall down and embrace the
very soil, but it had rained recently and the soil was deep in mire.
Or how can I describe to you the longing that seized me once again to
embrace my wife and child. How vividly returned to me the old scene of
our last parting: my wife’s tears and the carelessness of my boy, who
now must have grown, if he was still living, to be a sturdy knave!
If he still lived? What if my wife and all that I loved were dead? Or
if, with the inconstancy of women, she were married again? I was in
a fever of excitement, and, mounting my horse, I departed for London
as quick as might be, though I took good care, for the sake of the
valuables that I had about me, to travel always in good company, which
did not always travel as fast as the heat of my passion would have had
them. I thus arrived in London safely, without having encountered any
footpads, and put up at a hostelry from which I could make my inquiries
while I myself still remained unknown. It was a Saturday night when I
arrived, and the following morning I waited outside the church that we
had been wont to attend; for I had heard that Mistress Dudgeon still
lived in the house in which I had left her, being now a reputed widow,
although she was said still to cling to the belief that I lived. She
was much persecuted by would-be suitors and blamed by all the gossips
of the neighbourhood for wasting her youth in widowhood. I say, I
watched at the church door, and saw many that I had known in former
years pass by. There was Master Carroll, as pompous as ever, with his
small meek wife; and Master Raynbowe, followed by a troop of children.
Then came Master Bedingfield, with Mistress Bedingfield bearing the
prayer-book, and grown monstrous stout and fearsome. Presently I saw
my wife, leading her boy by the hand. How young she still looked, and
how the men hung about her; but even I, jealous as I was, had no fault
to find with the way in which she treated them. She did not even smile
a greeting to her numerous admirers, but quietly took her accustomed
place in church, and I slunk in after her. I observed her closely when
the prayers of the congregation were asked for those who were in peril
at sea or in slavery in Barbary, and could see how the tears ran down
her cheeks and her whole frame was convulsed with sobs, how her arm
stole round our boy, and she drew him closer towards her. At this sight
I could scarce restrain my own tears, so tender is my nature, and had
much ado to refrain from crying out then and there that I had come back
to my own mouse. But I did refrain, and I let her get back to her own
lodgings before I made myself known to her. What a scene there was!
How she clung to me and sobbed upon my breast, and then thrusting me
back the better to view me, nevertheless failed to see me for the tears
that blinded her eyes. How she held up our boy before me, who seemed
frighted, and whom I could have found it in me to whip for a fool. But,
thank God, after a time she recovered her senses, though she could not
yet part from my hand which she continued to hold within her own.
When she began to be able to think of somewhat else beyond her present
happiness, she besought me to tell her of my sufferings, the which I
related to her little by little, for the recital, like my suffering,
was long. She wept all through, the which I forgave her, for the
narrative as I related it was indeed moving, the more where I described
to her how my thoughts in all my captivity were constantly with her,
and how for her sake, and notwithstanding all my misery and suffering,
I refused to yield to the temptation to turn renegade. I told her
how I had been offered freedom, wealth, and marriage with the king’s
daughter (for, indeed, I believe that the king would have given me his
daughter) and she could not find words to express her joy and pride in
my steadfastness. Then I showed her the riches I had gotten, which she
somewhat misdoubted at first, and would have it that I ought to send it
back, fearing that the king had presented it to me as a dowry with his
daughter; but I assured her that it was washed up by the sea for our
reward, and presently she became satisfied.
What more is there to relate? I was now even richer than when I left my
country, my appetite for adventure was more than satiated by the years
that I had passed in slavery, and I resolved thence-forward never again
to tempt fortune, but to pass in enjoyment and in quiet at home the
remainder of such days as it might please my God to grant me.
+Finis.+
[Illustration]
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Transcriber’s Note:
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Inconsistent spelling has been corrected.
Obsolete spelling and punctuation have been retained as printed.
Italic text is enclosed in _.
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