Shorter novels, vol. 3 : $b Eighteenth centuryJohnson, Samuel
General
Shorter novels, vol. 3 : $b Eighteenth century
Johnson, Samuel
English fiction -- 18th century
Thus stimulated, he renewed his imprecations against the Giaour, and
bestowed upon Mahomet some soothing expressions. “Where am I?” cried he:
“what are these dreadful rocks--these valleys of darkness? Are we
arrived at the horrible Kaf? Is the Simurgh coming to pluck out my eyes,
as a punishment for undertaking this impious enterprise?” Having said
this he turned himself towards an outlet in the side of his pavilion;
but, alas! what objects occurred to his view? on one side a plain of
black sand that appeared to be unbounded; and, on the other,
perpendicular crags, bristled over with those abominable thistles which
had so severely lacerated his tongue. He fancied, however, that he
perceived amongst the brambles and briars some gigantic flowers, but was
mistaken; for these were only the dangling palampores and variegated
tatters of his gay retinue. As there were several clefts in the rock
from whence water seemed to have flowed, Vathek applied his ear with the
hope of catching the sound of some latent torrent; but could only
distinguish the low murmurs of his people, who were repining at their
journey, and complaining for the want of water. “To what purpose,” asked
they, “have we been brought hither? hath our caliph another tower to
build? or have the relentless afrits, whom Carathis so much loves, fixed
their abode in this place?”
At the name of Carathis, Vathek recollected the tablets he had received
from his mother, who assured him they were fraught with preternatural
qualities, and advised him to consult them as emergencies might require.
Whilst he was engaged in turning them over, he heard a shout of joy and
a loud clapping of hands. The curtains of his pavilion were soon drawn
back, and he beheld Bababalouk, followed by a troop of his favourites,
conducting two dwarfs, each a cubit high; who had brought between them a
large basket of melons, oranges, and pomegranates. They were singing in
the sweetest tones the words that follow: “We dwell on the top of these
rocks, in a cabin of rushes and canes; the eagles envy us our nest: a
small spring supplies us with water for the Abdest, and we daily repeat
prayers, which the Prophet approves. We love you, O commander of the
faithful! our master, the good Emir Fakreddin, loves you also: he
reveres, in your person, the vicegerent of Mahomet. Little as we are, in
us he confides: he knows our hearts to be as good as our bodies are
contemptible; and hath placed us here to aid those who are bewildered on
these dreary mountains. Last night, whilst we were occupied within our
cell in reading the holy Koran, a sudden hurricane blew out our lights,
and rocked our habitation. For two whole hours, palpable darkness
prevailed; but we heard sounds at a distance, which we conjectured to
proceed from the bells of a cafila, passing over the rocks. Our ears
were soon filled with deplorable shrieks, frightful roarings, and the
sound of timbals. Chilled with terror, we concluded that the Deggial,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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