One thousand and one nig.., p.43
One Thousand and One Nights, page 43
When the room was clear, she sat down on the side of my bed. “My son,” said she, “you have obstinately concealed the cause of your illness; but you have no occasion to reveal it to me. I have experience enough to penetrate into a secret; you will not deny when I tell you it is love that makes you sick. I can find a way to cure you, if you will but inform me who that happy lady is, that could move a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the character of a woman-hater, and I was not the last who perceived that such was your disposition; but what I foresaw has come to pass, and I am now glad of the opportunity to employ my talents in relieving your pain.”
The old lady having thus spoken, paused, expecting my answer; but though what she had said had made a strong impression upon me, I durst not lay open to her the bottom of my heart; I only turned to her, and heaved a deep sigh, without replying a word. “Is it bashfulness,” said she, “that keeps you silent? Or is it want of confidence in me? Do you doubt the effect of my promise? I could mention to you a number of young men of your acquaintance, who have been in the same condition with yourself, and have received relief from me.”
The good lady told me so many more circumstances that I broke silence, declared to her my complaint, pointed out to her the place where I had seen the object which occasioned it, and unravelled all the circumstances of my adventure. “If you succeed,” added I, “and procure me the happiness of seeing that charming beauty, and revealing to her the passion with which I burn for her, you may depend upon it I will be grateful.” “My son,” replied the old woman, “I know the lady you speak of; she is, as you rightly judged, the daughter of the first cauzee of this city: I am not surprised that you are in love with her. She is the handsomest and most lovely lady in Bagdad, but very proud, and of difficult access. You know how strict our judges are, in enjoining the punctual observance of the severe laws that confine women; and they are yet more strict in the observation of them in their own families; the cauzee you saw is more rigid in that point than any of the other magistrates. They are always preaching to their daughters what a heinous crime it is to shew themselves to men; and the girls themselves are so prepossessed with the notion, that they make no other use of their own eves but to conduct them along the street, when necessity obliges them to go abroad. I do not say absolutely that the first cauzee’s daughter is of that humour; but that does not hinder my fearing to meet with as great obstacles on her side, as on her father’s. Would to God you had loved any other, then I should not have had so many difficulties to surmount. However, I will employ all my wits to compass the matter; but it requires time. In the mean while take courage and trust to me.”
The old woman took leave; and as I weighed within myself all the obstacles she had been talking of, the fear of her not succeeding in her undertaking inflamed my disorder. Next day she came again, and I read in her countenance that she had no favourable news to impart. She spoke thus: “My son, I was not mistaken, I have somewhat else to conquer besides the vigilance of a father. You love an insensible object, who takes pleasure in making every one miserable who suffers himself to be charmed by her; she will not deign them the least comfort: she heard me with pleasure, when I spoke of nothing but the torment she made you undergo; but I no sooner opened my mouth to engage her to allow you to see her, and converse with her, but casting at me a terrible look, ‘You are very presumptuous,’ said she, ‘to make such a proposal to me; I charge you never to insult me again with such language.’
“Do not let this cast you down,” continued she; “I am not easily disheartened, and am not without hope but I shall compass my end.” To shorten my story, this good woman made several fruitless attacks in my behalf on the proud enemy of my rest. The vexation I suffered inflamed my distemper to that degree, that my physicians gave me over. I was considered as a dead man, when the old woman came to recall me to life.
That no one might hear what was said, she whispered in my ear; “Remember the present you owe for the good news I bring you.” These words produced a marvellous effect; I raised myself up in the bed, and with transport replied, “You shall not go without a present; but what is the news you bring me?” “Dear sir,” said she “you shall not die; I shall speedily have the pleasure to see you in perfect health, and very well satisfied with me. Yesterday I went to see the lady you love, and found her in good humour. As soon as I entered, I put on a sad countenance heaved many deep sighs, and began to squeeze out some tears. ‘My good mother,’ demanded she ‘what is the matter with you, why are you so cast down?’ ‘Alas, my dear and honourable lady,’ I replied, ‘I have just been with the young gentleman of whom I spoke to you the other day, who is dying on your account.’ ‘I am at a loss to know,’ said she, ‘how you make me to be the cause of his death. How can I have contributed to it?’ ‘How?’ replied I; ‘did not you tell me the other day, that he sat down before your window when you opened it to water your flower-pot? He then saw that prodigy of beauty, those charms that your mirror daily represents to you. From that moment he languished, and his disorder has so increased, that he is reduced to the deplorable condition I have mentioned.’
“‘You well remember,’ added I, ‘how harshly you treated me at our last interview; when I was speaking to you of his illness, and proposing a way to save him from the threatened consequences of his complaint. After I left you I went directly to his house, and he no sooner learnt from my countenance that I had brought no favourable answer than his distemper increased. From that time, madam, he has been at the point of death; and I doubt whether your compassion would not now come too late to save his life.’ The fear of your death alarmed her, and I saw her face change colour. ‘Is your account true?’ she asked. ‘Has he actually no other disorder than what is occasioned by his love of me?’ ‘Ah, madam!’ I replied, ‘it is too true; would it were false!’ ‘Do you believe,’ said she, ‘that the hopes of seeing me would at all contribute to rescue him from his danger?’ I answered, ‘Perhaps it may, and if you will permit me, I will try the remedy.’? ‘Well,’ resumed she, sighing, ‘give him hopes of seeing me; but he must pretend to no other favours, unless he aspire to marry me, and obtains my father’s consent.’ ‘Madam,’ replied I. ‘your goodness overcomes me; I will instantly seek the young gentleman, and tell him he is to have the pleasure of an interview with you.’ ‘The best opportunity I can think of,’ said she, ‘for granting him that favour, will be next Friday at the hour of noon prayers. Let him observe when my father goes out, and then, if his health permits him to be abroad, come and place himself opposite the house. I shall then see him from my window, and will come down and open the door for him: we will converse together during prayer-time; but he must depart before my father returns.’
“It is now Tuesday,” continued the old lady “you have the interval between this and Friday to recover your strength, and make the necessary dispositions for the interview.” While the good old lady was speaking, I felt my illness decrease, or rather, by the time she had done, I found myself perfectly recovered. “Here, take this,” said I, reaching out to her my purse, which was full, “it is to you alone that I owe my cure. I reckon this money better employed than all that I gave the physicians, who have only tormented me during my illness.”
When the lady was gone, I found I had strength enough to get up: and my relations finding me so well, complimented me on the occasion, and went home.
On Friday morning the old woman came, just as I was dressing, and choosing out the richest clothes in my wardrobe, said, “I do not ask you how you are, what you are about is intimation enough of your health; but will not you bathe before you go?” “That will take up too much time,” I replied; “I will content myself with sending for a barber, to shave my head.” Immediately I ordered one of my slaves to call a barber that could do his business cleverly and expeditiously.
The slave brought me the wretch you see here, who came, and after saluting me, said, “Sir, you look as if you were not well.” I told him I was just recovered from a fit of sickness. “May God,” resumed he, “deliver you from all mischance; may his grace always go along with you.” “I hope he will grant your wish, for which I am obliged to you.” “Since you are recovering from a fit of sickness,” he continued, “I pray God preserve your health; but now let me know what I am to do; I have brought my razors and my lancets, do you desire to be shaved or to be bled?” I replied, “I am just recovered from a fit of sickness, and you may readily judge I only want to be shaved: come, do not lose time in prattling; for I am in haste, and have an appointment precisely at noon.”
The barber spent much time in opening his case, and preparing his razors Instead of putting water into the basin, he took a very handsome astrolabe out of his case, and went very gravely out of my room to the middle of the court to take the height of the sun: he returned with the same grave pace, and entering my room, said, “Sir, you will be pleased to know this day is Friday the 18th of the moon Suffir, in the year 653, from the retreat of our great prophet from Mecca to Medina, and in the year 7320 of the epocha of the great Iskender with two horns; and that the conjunction of Mars and Mercury signifies you cannot choose a better time than this very day and hour for being shaved. But, on the other hand, the same conjunction is a bad presage to you. I learn from it, that this day you run a great risk, not indeed of losing your life, but of an inconvenience which will attend you while you live. You are obliged to me for the advice I now give you, to avoid this accident; I shall be sorry if it befall you.”
You may guess, gentlemen, how vexed I was at having fallen into the hands of such a prattling, impertinent fellow; what an unseasonable adventure was it for a lover preparing for an interview with his mistress! I was quite irritated. “I care not,” said I, in anger, “for your advice and predictions; I did not call you to consult your astrology; you came hither to shave me; shave me, or begone.” “I will call another barber, sir,” replied he, with a coolness that put me out of all patience; “what reason have you to be angry with me? You do not know, that all of my profession are not like me; and that if you made it your business to search, you would not find such another. You only sent for a barber; but here, in my person, you have the best barber in Bagdad, an experienced physician, a profound chemist, an infallible astrologer, a finished grammarian, a complete orator, a subtle logician, a mathematician perfectly well versed in geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and all the refinements of algebra; an historian fully master of the histories of all the kingdoms of the universe. Besides, I understand all parts of philosophy. I have all our sacred traditions by heart. I am a poet, I am an architect; and what is it I am not? There is nothing in nature hidden from me. Your deceased father, to whose memory I pay a tribute of tears every time I think of him, was fully convinced of my merit; he was fond of me, and spoke of me in all companies as the first man in the world. Out of gratitude and friendship for him, I am willing to attach myself to you, to take you under my protection, and guard you from all the evils that your stars may threaten.”
When I heard all this jargon, I could not forbear laughing, notwithstanding my anger. “You impertinent prattler!” said I, “will you have done, and begin to shave me?”
“Sir,” replied the barber, “you affront me in calling me a prattler; on the contrary, all the world gives me the honourable title of Silent. I had six brothers, whom you might justly have called prattlers. These indeed were impertinent chatterers, but for me, who am a younger brother, I am grave and concise in my discourse.”
For God’s sake, gentlemen, do but suppose you had been in my place. What could I say when I saw myself so cruelly delayed? “Give him three pieces of gold,” said I to the slave who was my housekeeper, “and send him away, that he may disturb me no more; I will not be shaved this day.” “Sir,” said the barber, “pray what do you mean? I did not come to seek for you, you sent for me; and as that is the case I swear by the faith of a Moosulmaun, I will not stir out of these doors till I have shaved you. If you do not know my value, it is not my fault. Your deceased father did me more justice. Every time he sent for me to let him blood, he made me sit down by him, and was charmed with hearing what witty things I said. I kept him in a continual strain of admiration; I elevated him; and when I had finished my discourse, ‘My God,’ he would exclaim, ‘you are an inexhaustible source of science, no man can reach the depth of your knowledge.’ ‘My dear sir,’ I would answer, ‘you do me more honour than deserve. If I say anything that is worth hearing, it is owing to the favourable audience you vouchsafe me; it is your liberality that inspires me with the sublime thoughts which have the happiness to please you.’ One day, when he was charmed with an admirable discourse I had made him, he said, ‘Give him a hundred pieces of gold, and invest him with one of my richest robes.’ I instantly received the present. I then drew his horoscope, and found it the happiest in the world. Nay I carried my gratitude further; I let him blood with cupping-glasses.”
This was not all; he spun out another harangue that was a full half hour long. Tired with hearing him, and fretted at the loss of time, which was almost spent before I was half ready, I did not know what to say. “It is impossible,” I exclaimed, “there should be such another man in the world who takes pleasure, as you do, in making people mad.”
I thought I might perhaps succeed better if I dealt mildly with my barber. “In the name of God,” said I, “leave off talking, and shave me directly: business of the last importance calls me, as I have already told you.” At these words he fell a laughing: “It would be fortunate,” said he, “if our minds were always in the same state; if we were always wise and prudent. I am willing, however, to believe, that if you are angry with me, it is your disorder that has caused the change in your temper, for which reason you stand in need of some instructions, and you cannot do better than follow the example of your father and grandfather. They came and consulted me upon all occasions, and I can say, without vanity, that they always highly prized my advice. Pray observe, sir, men never succeed in their undertakings without the counsel of persons of understanding. A man cannot, says the proverb, be wise without receiving advice from the wise. I am entirely at service, and you have only to command me.”
“What! cannot I prevail with you then,” I demanded, interrupting him, “to leave off these long speeches, that tend to nothing but to distract my head, and detain me from my business? Shave me, I say, or begone:” with that I started up in anger, stamping my foot against the ground.
When he saw I was in earnest, he said, “Sir, do not be angry, we are going to begin.” He lathered my head, and began to shave me; but had not given four strokes with his razor before he stopped, and addressed me, “Sir, you are hasty, you should avoid these transports that only come from the devil. I am entitled to some consideration on account of my age, my knowledge, and my great virtues.”
“Go on and shave me,” said I, interrupting him again, “and talk no more.” “That is to say,” replied he, “you have some urgent business to go about; I will lay you a wager I guess right.” “Why I told you two hours ago,” I returned, “you ought to have shaved me before.” “Moderate your passion,” replied he; “perhaps you have not maturely weighed what you are going about; when things are done precipitately, they are generally repented of. I wish you would tell me what mighty business this is you are so earnest upon. I would tell you my opinion of it; besides, you have time enough, since your appointment is not till noon, and it wants three hours of that yet.” “I do not mind that,” said I; “persons of honour and of their word are rather before their time than after. But I forget that by reasoning with you, I give into the faults of you prattling barbers; have done, have done; shave me.”
The more haste I was in, the less speed he made. He laid down the razor, and took up his astrolabe; then laid down his astrolabe, and took up his razor again.
The barber quitted his razor again, and took up his astrolabe a second time; and so left me half shaved, to go and see precisely what hour it was. Back he came, and exclaimed, “Sir, I knew I was not mistaken, it wants three hours of noon. I am sure of it, or else all the rules of astronomy are false.” “Just heaven!” cried I, “my patience is exhausted, I can bear this no longer. You cursed barber, you barber of mischief, I can scarcely forbear falling upon you and strangling you.” “Softly, sir,” said he, very calmly, without being moved by my anger: “are you not afraid of a relapse? Be not in a passion, I am going to shave you this minute.” In speaking these words, he clapped his astrolabe in his case, took up his razor, and passing it over the strap which was fixed to his belt, fell to shaving me again; but all the while he was thus employed, the dog could not forbear prattling. “If you would be pleased, sir,” said he, “to tell me what the business is you are going about at noon, I could give you some advice that might be of use to you.” To satisfy the fellow, I told him I was going to meet some friends at an entertainment at noon, to make merry with me on the recovery of my health.
