Arab countries -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Gothic fiction; Middle East -- Fiction
A diet to which he had been so little accustomed, was sufficient of
itself to prevent him from sleeping, what then must be its effect when
joined to the anxiety that prayed upon his spirits? At the first glimpse
of dawn he hastened to the prison, again to importune this intractable
stranger; but the rage of Vathek exceeded all bounds on finding the
prison empty, the gates burst asunder, and his guards lying lifeless
around him. In the paroxysm of his passion he fell furiously on the poor
carcases, and kicked them till evening without intermission. His
courtiers and viziers exerted their efforts to soothe his extravagance,
but finding every expedient ineffectual, they all united in one
vociferation:
“The Caliph is gone mad! the Caliph is out of his senses!”
This outcry, which was soon resounded through the streets of Samarah, at
length reached the ears of Carathis, his mother: she flew in the utmost
consternation to try her ascendency on the mind of her son. Her tears
and caresses called off his attention; and he was prevailed upon by her
entreaties to be brought back to the palace.
Carathis, apprehensive of leaving Vathek to himself, caused him to be put
to bed; and seating herself by him, endeavoured by her conversation to
heal and compose him. Nor could any one have attempted it with better
success; for the Caliph not only loved her as a mother but respected her
as a person of superior genius. It was she who had induced him, being a
Greek herself, to adopt all the sciences and systems of her country,
which good Mussulmans hold in such thorough abhorrence.
Judicial astrology was one of those systems in which Carathis was a
perfect adept. She began, therefore, with reminding her son of the
promise which the stars had made him; and intimated an intention of
consulting them again.
“Alas!” sighed the Caliph, as soon at he could speak, “what a fool have I
been! not for the kicks bestowed on my guards, who so tamely submitted to
death, but for never considering that this extraordinary man was the same
the planets had foretold; whom, instead of ill-treating, I should have
conciliated by all the arts of persuasion.”
“The past,” said Carathis, “cannot be recalled; but it behoves us to
think of the future: perhaps you may again see the object you so much
regret: it is possible the inscriptions on the sabres will afford
information. Eat, therefore, and take thy repose, my dear son. We will
consider, to-morrow, in what manner to act.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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