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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
THE TALE OF ZAYN AL-ASNAM.[FN#8] | 1 |
ALAEDDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP. | 21 |
ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES.[FN#289] | 159 |
ALI KHWAJAH AND THE MERCHANT OF BAGHDAD | 180 |
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves—p.219 | 303 |
ADDITIONAL NOTES. | 360 |
It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that in Bassorah-city[FN#9] reigned a puissant Sultan, who was opulent exceedingly and who owned all the goods of life; but he lacked a child which might inherit his wealth and dominion. So, being sorely sorrowful on this account, he arose and fell to doing abundant alms-deeds to Fakirs and the common poor, to the Hallows and other holy men and prayed their recourse to Allah Almighty, in order that the Lord (to whom belong Might and Majesty!) might of His grace bless him with issue. And the Compassionate accepted his prayer for his alms to the Religious and deigned grant his petition; and one night of the nights after he lay with the Queen she went away from him with child. Now as soon as the Sultan heard of the conception he rejoiced with exceeding great joyance, and when the days of delivery drew near he gathered together all the astrologers and sages who strike the sand-board,[FN#10]and said to them, “’Tis our desire that ye disclose and acquaint us anent the birth which is to be born during the present month whether it shall be male or female, and what shall befal it from the shifts of Time, and what shall proceed from it.” Thereupon the geomantists struck their sand-boards and the astrophils ascertained their ascendants and they drew the horoscope of the babe unborn, and said to the sovran, “O King of the Age and Lord of the Time and the Tide, verily the child to which the Queen shall presently give birth will be a boy and ’t will be right for thee to name him Zayn al-Asnam—Zayn of the Images.” Then spake the geomantists, saying, “Know then, Ho though the King, that this little one shall approve him when grown to man’s estate valiant and intelligent; but his days shall happen upon sundry troubles and travails, and yet if he doughtily fight against all occurrence he shall become the most opulent of the Kings of the World.” Exclaimed the Sultan, “An the child approve himself valorous, as ye have announced, then the toil and moil which shall be his lot may be held for naught, inasmuch as calamities but train and strengthen the songs of the Kings."[FN#11] Shortly after this the Queen gave birth to a man-child, and Glory be to Him who fashioned the babe with such peerless beauty and loveliness! The King named his son Zayn al-Asnam, and presently he became even as the poets sang of one of his fellows in semblance,
“He showed; and they cried, ’Be Allah
blest!’* And who made him
and formed him His might
attest!
This be surely the lord of all loveliness; * And all
others his
lieges and thralls be
confest.”
Then Zayn al-Asnam grew up and increased until his age attained its fifteenth year, when his sire the Sultan appointed for him an experienced governor, one versed in all the sciences and philosophies;[FN#12] who fell to instructing him till such times as he waxed familiar with every branch of knowledge, and in due season he became an adult. Thereupon the Sultan bade summon his son and heir to the presence together with the Lords of his land and the Notables of his lieges and addressed him before them with excellent counsel saying, “O my son, O Zayn al-Asnam, seeing that I be shotten in years and at the present time sick of a sickness which haply shall end my days in this world and which anon shall seat thee in my stead, therefore, I bequeath unto thee the following charge. Beware, O my son, lest thou wrong any man, and incline not to cause the poor complain; but do justice to the injured after the measure of thy might. Furthermore, have a care lest thou trust to every word spoken to thee by the Great; but rather lend thou ever an ear unto the voice of the general; for that thy Grandees will betray thee as they seek only whatso suiteth them, not that which suiteth thy subjects.” A few days after this time the old Sultan’s distemper increased and his lifeterm was fulfilled and he died; whereupon his son, Zayn al-Asnam, arose and donned mourning-dress for his father during six days; and on the seventh he went forth to the Divan and took seat upon the throne of his Sultanate. He also held a levee wherein were assembled all the defenders of the realm, and the Ministers and the Lords of the land came forward and condoled with him for the loss of his parent and wished him all good fortune and gave him joy of his kingship and dominion and prayed for his endurance in honour and his permanence in prosperity. —And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Four Hundred and Ninety-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night;” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Zayn al-Asnam seeing himself in this high honour and opulence[FN#13] and he young in years and void of experience, straightway inclined unto lavish expenditure and commerce with the younglings, who were like him and fell to wasting immense wealth upon his pleasures; and neglected his government, nor paid aught of regard to his subjects.[FN#14] Thereupon the Queen-mother began to counsel him, and forbid him from such ill courses, advising him to abandon his perverse inclinations and apply his mind to rule and commandment, and to further the policy of his kingdom, lest the lieges repudiate him and rise up against him and depose him. But he would on no wise hearken to a single of her words and persisted in his ignorant folly; whereat the folk murmured, inasmuch as the Lords
When it was the Four Hundred and Ninety-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Shaykh again appeared to the Prince in a vision and said to him, “O Zayn al-Asnam, though hast obeyed me in whatso I bade thee and I only made trial of thee to test an thou be valiant or a craven. But now I wot thy worth, inasmuch as thou hast accepted my words and thou hast acted upon my advice: so do thou return straightway to thy capital and I will make thee a wealthy ruler, such an one that neither before thee was any king like unto thee nor shall any like unto thee come after thee.” Hereat Zayn al-Asnam awoke and cried “Bismillah,—in the name of Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate—what be this Shaykh who verily persecuted me until I travelled to Cairo; and I having faith in him and holding that he was either the Apostle (whom Allah save and assain!) or one of the righteous Hallows of God; and there is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great! By the Lord, but I did right well in not relating my dream to any save to my mother, and in warning none of my departure. I had full faith in this oldster; but now, meseemeth, the man is not of those who know the Truth (be He extolled and exalted!); so by Allah I will cast off all confidence in this Shaykh and his doings.” With this resolve the Prince slept that night in the Mosque and on the morrow took horse and after a few days of strenuous travel arrived at his capital Bassorah. Herein he entered by night, and forthright went in to his mother who asked him, “Say me, hast thou won aught of whatso the Shaykh promised thee?” and he answered her by acquainting her with all his adventure. Then she applied her to consoling and comforting him, saying, “Grieve not, O my son; if Almighty Allah have apportioned unto thee aught thou shalt obtain it without toil and travail.[FN#18] But I would see thee wax sensible and wise, abandoning all these courses which have landed thee in poverty, O my son; and shunning songstresses and commune with the inexperienced and the society of loose livers, male and female. All such pleasures as these are for the sons of the ne’er-do-well, not for the scions of the Kings thy peers.” Herewith Zayn al-Asnam sware an oath to bear in mind all she might say to him, never to gainsay her commandments, nor deviate from them a single hair’s breadth; to abandon all she should forbid him, and to fix his thoughts upon rule and goverance. Then he addrest himself to sleep, and as he slumbered, the Shaykh appeared to him a third time in vision, and said, “O Zayn al-Asnam, O thou valorous Prince; this very day, as soon as thou shalt have shaken off thy drowsiness, I will fulfil my covenant with thee. So take with thee a pickaxe, and hie to such a palace of thy
When it was the full Five Hundredth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Zayn al-Asnam saw the jars, he came forwards and unlidding them found each and every full of antique[FN#21] golden pieces; so he hent a few in hand seen and going to his mother gave of them to her saying, “Hast thou seen, O my mother?” She marvelled at the matter and made answer, “Beware, O my son, of wasting this wealth as thou dissipatedst otheraforetime;” whereupon her son sware to her an oath saying, “Have no care, O my mother, nor be thy heart other than good before me; and I desire that thou also find satisfaction in mine actions.” Presently she arose and went forth with him, and the twain descended into the cavern-like souterrain and entered the pavilion, where the Queen saw that which wildereth the wits; and she made sure with her own eyes that the jars were full of gold. But while they enjoyed the spectacle of the treasure behold, they caught sight of a smaller jar wondrously wrought in green jasper; so Zayn al-Asnam opened it and found therein a golden key; whereupon quoth the Queen-mother, “O my son, needs must this key have some door which it unlocketh.” Accordingly they sought all about the souterrain and
When it was the Five Hundred and First Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night;” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Zayn al-Asnam knocked at the door when a slave of Mubarak’s black slaves came out to him and opening asked him, “Who[FN#24] art thou and what is it thou wantest?” The Prince answered, “I am a foreigner from a far country, and I have heard of Mubarak thy lord that he is famed for liberality and generosity; so that I come hither purposing to become his guest.” Thereupon the chattel went in to his lord and, after reporting the matter to him, came out and said to Zayn al-Asnam, “O my lord, a blessing hath descended upon us by thy footsteps. Do thou enter, for my master Mubarak awaiteth thee.” Therewith the Prince passed into a court spacious exceedingly and all beautified with trees and waters, and the slave led him to the pavilion wherein Mubarak was sitting. As the guest came in the host straightway rose up and met him with cordial greeting and cried, “A benediction hath alighted upon us and this night is the most benedight of the nights by reason of thy coming to us! So who are thou, O youth, and whence is thine arrival and whither is thine intent?” He replied, “I am Zayn al-Asnam and I seek one Mubarak, a slave of the Sultan of Bassorah who deceased a year ago, and I am his son.” Mubarak rejoined, “What sayest thou? Thou the son of the King of Bassorah?” and the other retorted, “Yea, verily I am his son."[FN#25] Quoth Mubarak, “In good sooth my late lord the King of Bassorah left no son known to me! But what may be thine age, O youth?” “Twenty years or so,” quoth the Prince, presently adding, “But thou, how long is it since thou leftest my sire?” “I left him eighteen years ago,” said the other; “but, O my shild Zayn al-Asnam, by what sign canst thou assure me of thy being the son of my old master, the Sovran of Bassorah?” Said the Prince, “Thou alone knowest that my father laid out beneath his palace a souterrain,[FN#26] and in this he placed forty jars of the finest green jasper, which he filled with pieces of antique gold, also that within a pavilion he builded a second palace and set therein eight images of precious stones, each one of a single gem, and all seated upon royal seats of placer-gold.[FN#27] He also wrote upon a silken hanging a writ which I read and which bade me repair to thee and thou wouldst inform me concerning the Ninth Statue whereabouts it may be, assuring me that it is worth all the eight.” Now when Mubarak heard these words, he fell at the feet of Zayn al-Asnam and kissed them exclaiming, “Pardon me, O my lord, in very truth thou art the son of my old master;” adding, presently, “I have spread, O my lord, a feast[FN#28] for all the Grandess of Cairo and I would that thy Highness honour it by thy presence.” The Prince replied, “With love and the best will.” Thereupon Mubarak arose and forewent Zayn al-Asnam to the saloon which
When it was the Five Hundred and Second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Mubarak fell to waiting upon Zayn al-Asnam the son of his old lord, and the Grandees of Cairo there sitting marvelled to see Mubarak, one of the great men of the city, serving the youth and wondered with extreme wonderment, unknowing whence the stranger was. After this they ate and drank and supped well and were cheered till at last Mubarak turned towards them and said, “O folk, admire not that I wait upon this young man with all worship and honour, for that he is the son of my old lord, the Sultan of Bassorah, who bought me with his money and who died without manumitting me. I am, therefore, bound to do service to his son, this my young lord, and all that my hand possesseth of money and munition belongeth to him nor own I aught thereof at all, at all.” When the Grandees of Cairo heard these words, they stood up before Zayn al-Asnam and salamed to him with mighty great respect and entreated him with high regard and blessed him. Then said the Prince, “O assembly, I am in the presence of your worships, and be ye my witnesses. O Mubarak, thou art now freed and all thou hast of goods, gold and gear erst belonging to us becometh henceforth thine own and thou art endowed with them for good each and every. Eke do thou ask whatso of importance thou wouldst have from me, for I will on no wise let or stay thee in thy requiring it.” With this Mubarak arose and kissed the hand of Zayn al-Asnam and thanked him for his boons, saying, “O my lord, I wish for thee naught save thy weal, but the wealth that is with me is altogether overmuch for my wants.” Then the Prince abode with the Freedman four days, during which all the Grandees of Cairo made act of presence day by day to offer their salams as soon as they heard men say, “This is the master of Mubarak and the monarch of Bassorah.” And whenas the guest had taken his rest he said to his host, “O Mubarak, my tarrying with thee hath been long; whereto said the other, “Thou wottest, O my lord, that the matter whereinto thou comest to enquire is singular-rare, but that it also involveth risk of death, and I know not if thy valour can make the attainment thereto possible to thee.”
When it was the Five Hundred and Third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Mubarak and Zayn al-Asnam came upon a lake where, behold, they found a little craft whose planks were of chaunders and lign-aloes of Comorin and therein stood a ferryman with the head of an elephant while the rest of his body wore the semblance of a lion.[FN#33] Presently he approached them and winding his trunk around them[FN#34] lifted them both into the boat and seated them beside himself: then he fell to paddling till he passed through the middle of the lake and he ceased not so doing until he had landed them on the further bank. Here the twain took ground and began to pace forwards, gazing around them the while and regarding the trees which bore for burthen ambergris and lign-aloes, sandal, cloves, and gelsamine,[FN#35] all with flowers and fruits bedrest whose odours broadened the breast and excited the sprite. There also the birds warbled, with various voices, notes ravishing and rapturing
When it was the Five Hundred and Fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Mubarak fell to lessoning Zayn al-Asnam how he should salute the King of the Jinns, and pursued, “Likewise, O my lord, if he hail us with gladsome face of welcome he will doubtless say thee, ’Ask whatso thou wantest of me!’ and the moment he giveth thee his word do thou at once prefer thy petition saying, O my lord, I require of thy Highness the Ninth Statue than which is naught more precious in the world, and thou didst promise my father to vouchsafe me that same.” And after this Mubarak instructed his master how to address the King and crave of him the boon and how to bespeak him with pleasant speech. Then he began his conjurations and fumigations and adjurations and recitations of words not understanded of any and but little time elapsed before cold rain down railed and lightning flashed and thunder roared and thick darkness veiled earth’s face. Presently came forth a mighty rushing wind and a voice like an earthquake, the quake of earth on Judgment Day.[FN#40] The Prince, seeing these horrors and sighting that which he had never before seen or heard, trembled for terror in every limb; but Mubarak fell to laughing at him and saying, “Fear not, O my lord: for that which thou dreadest is what we seek, for to us it is an earnest of glad tidings and success; so be thou satisfied and hold thyself safe."[FN#41] After this the skies waxed clear and serene exceedingly while perfumed winds and the purest scents breathed upon them; nor did a long time elapse ere the King of the Jann presented himself under the semblance of a beautiful man who had no peer in comeliness save and excepting Him who lacketh likeness and to Whom be honour and glory! He gazed at Zayn al-Asnam with a gladsome aspect and a riant, whereat the Prince arose forthright and recited the string of benedictions taught to him by his companion and the King said to him with a smiling favour, “O Zayn al-Asnam, verily I was wont to love thy sire, the Sultan of Bassorah and, when he visited me ever, I used to give him an image of those thou sawest, each cut of a single gem; and thou also shalt presently become to me honoured as thy father and yet more. Ere he died I charged him to write upon the silken curtain the writ thou readest and eke I gave promise and made covenant with him to take thee like thy parent under my safeguard and to gift thee as I gifted him with an image, to wit, the ninth, which is of greater worth than all those viewed by thee. So now ’tis my desire to stand by my word and to afford thee my promised aid.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Lord of the Jann said to the Prince, “I will take thee under my safeguard and the Shaykh thou sawest in thy swevens was myself and I also ’twas who bade thee dig under thy palace down to the souterrain wherein thou sawest the crocks of gold and the figures of fine gems. I also well know wherefore thou art come hither and I am he who caused thee to come and I will give thee what thou seekest, for all that I would not give it to thy sire. But ’tis on condition that thou return unto me bringing a damsel whose age is fifteen, a maiden without rival or likeness in loveliness; furthermore she must be a pure virgin and a clean maid who hath never lusted for male nor hath ever been solicited of man;[FN#42] and lastly, thou must keep faith with me in safeguarding the girl whenas thou returnest hither and beware lest thou play the traitor with her whilst thou bringest her to me.” To this purport the Prince sware a mighty strong oath adding, “O my lord, thou hast indeed honoured me by requiring of me such service, but truly ’twill be right hard for me to find a fair one like unto this; and, grant that I find one perfectly beautiful and young in years after the requirement of thy Highness, how shall I weet if she ever longed for mating with man or that male ever lusted for her?” Replied the King, “Right thou art, O Zayn al-Asnam, and verily this be a knowledge whereunto the sons of men may on no wise attain. However, I will give thee a mirror[FN#43] of my own whose virtue is this. When thou shalt sight a young lady whose beauty and loveliness please thee, do thou open the glass,[FN#44] and, if thou see therein her image clear and undimmed, do thou learn forthright that she is a clean maid without aught of defect or default and endowed with every praiseworthy quality. But if, contrariwise, the figure be found darkened or clothed in uncleanness, do thou straightway know that damsel is sullied by soil of sex. Shouldst thou find her pure and gifted with all manner good gifts, bring her to me but beware not to offend with her and do villainy, and if thou keep not faith and promise with me bear in mind that thou shalt lose thy life.” Hereupon the Prince made a stable and solemn pact with the King, a covenant of the sons of the Sultans which may never be violated.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Prince Zayn al-Asnam made a stable and trustworthy compact to keep faith with the King of the Jann and never to play traitor thereto, but to bring the maid en tout bien et tout honneur to that potentate who made over to him the mirror saying, “O my son, take this looking-glass whereof I bespake thee and depart straightway.” Thereupon the Prince and Mubarak arose and, after blessing him, fared forth and journeyed back until they made the lakelet, where they sat but a little ere appeared the boat which had brought them bearing the Jinni with elephantine head and leonine body, and he was standing up ready for paddling.[FN#45] The twain took passage with him (and this by command of the King of the Jann) until they reached Cairo and returned to their quarters, where they abode whilst they rested from the travails of travel. Then the Prince turned to his companion and said, “Arise with us and wend we to Baghdad[FN#46]-city that we may look for some damsel such as the King describeth!” and Mubarak replied, “O my lord, we be in Cairo, a city of the cities, a wonder of the world, and here no doubt there is but that I shall find such a maiden, nor is there need that we fare therefor to a far country.” Zayn al-Asnam rejoined, “True for thee, O Mubarak, but what be the will and the way whereby to hit upon such a girl, and who shall go about to find her for us?” Quoth the other, “Be not beaten and broken down, O my lord, by such difficulty: I have by me here an ancient dame (and cursed be the same!) who maketh marriages, and she is past mistress in wiles and guiles; nor will she be hindered by the greatest of obstacles."[FN#47] So saying, he sent to summon the old trot, and informed her that he wanted a damsel perfect of beauty and not past her fifteenth year, whom he would marry to the son of his lord; and he promised her sumptuous Bakhshish and largesse if she would do her very best endeavour. Answered she, “O my lord, be at rest: I will presently contrive to satisfy thy requirement even beyond thy desire; for under my hand are damsels unsurpassable in beauty and loveliness, and all be the daughters of honourable men.” But the old woman, O Lord of the Age, knew naught anent the mirror. So she went forth to wander about the city and work on her well-known ways.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the old woman went forth to work on her well-known ways, and she wandered about town to find a maiden for the Prince Zayn al-Asnam. Whatever notable beauty she saw she would set before Mubarak; but each semblance as it was considered in the mirror showed exceedingly dark and dull, and the inspector would dismiss the girl. This endured until the crone had brought to him all the damsels in Cairo, and not one was found whose reflection in the mirror showed clear-bright and whose honour was pure and clean, in fact such an one as described by the King of the Jann. Herewith Mubarak, seeing that he had not found one in Cairo to please him, or who proved pure and unsullied as the King of the Jann had required, determined to visit Baghdad: so they rose up and equipped them and set out and in due time they made the City of Peace where they hired them a mighty fine mansion amiddlemost the capital. Here they settled themselves in such comfort and luxury that the Lords of the land would come daily to eat at their table, even the thirsty and those who went forth betimes,[FN#48] and what remained of the meat was distributed to the mesquin and the miserable; also every poor stranger lodging in the Mosques would come to the house and find a meal. Therefore the bruit of them for generosity and liberality went abroad throughout the city and won for them notable name and the fairest of fame; nor did any ever speak of aught save the beneficence of Zayn al-Asnam and his generosity and his opulence. Now there chanced to be in one of the cathedral-mosques and Imam,[FN#49] Abu Bakr hight, a ghostly man passing jealous and fulsome, who dwelt hard by the manion wherein the Prince and Mubarak abode; and he, when he heard of their lavish gifts and alms deeds, and honourable report, smitten by envy and malice and hatred, fell to devising how he might draw them into some calamity that might despoil the goods they enjoyed and destroy their lives, for it is the wont of envy to fall not save upon the fortunate. So one day of the days, as he lingered in the Mosque after mid-afternoon prayer, he came forwards amidst the folk and cried, “O ye, my brethren of the Faith which is true and who bear testimony to the unity of the Deity, I would have you to weet that housed in this our quarter are two men which be strangers, and haply ye have heard of them how they lavish and waste immense sums of money, in fact moneys beyond measure, and for my part I cannot but suspect that they are cutpurses and brigands who commit robberies in their own country and who came hither to expend their spoils.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Imam in his jealousy of Zayn al-Asnam and Mubarak said to the congregation, “Verily they be brigands and cutpurses;” adding, “O believers of Mohammed, I counsel you in Allah’s name that ye guard yourselves against such accurseds; for haply the Caliph shall in coming times hear of these twain and ye also shall fall with them into calamity.[FN#50] I have hastened to caution you, and having warned you I wash my hands of your business, and after this do ye as ye judge fit.” All those present replied with one voice, “Indeed we will do whatso thou wishest us to do, O Abu Bakr!” But when the Imam heard this from them he arose and, bringing forth ink-case and reed-pen and a sheet of paper, began inditing an address to the Commander of the Faithful, recounting all that was against the two strangers. However, by decree of Destiny, Mubarak chanced to be in the Mosque amongst the crowd when he heard the address of the blameworthy Imam and how he purposed applying by letter to the Caliph. So he delayed not at all but returned home forthright and, taking an hundred dinars and packing up a parcel of costly clothes, silverwrought all, repaired in haste to the reverend’s quarters and knocked at the door. The preacher came and opened to him, but sighting Mubarak he asked him in anger, “What is’t thou wantest and who art thou?” Whereto the other answered, “I am Mubarak and at thy service, O my master the Imam Abu Bakr; and I come to thee from my lord the Emir Zayn al-Asnam who, hearing of and learning thy religious knowledge and right fair repute in this city, would fain make acquaintance with thy Worship and do by thee whatso behoveth him. Also he hath sent me to thee with these garments and this spending-money, hoping excuse of thee for that this be a minor matter compared with your Honour’s deserts; but, Inshallah, after this he will not fail in whatever to thee is due.” As soon as Abu Bakr saw the coin and gold[FN#51] and the bundle of clothes, he answered Mubarak saying, “I crave pardon, O my lord, of thy master the Emir for that I have been ashamed of waiting upon him and repentance is right hard upon me for that I have failed to do my devoir by him; wherefore I hope that thou wilt be my deputy in imploring him to pardon my default and, the Creator willing, to-morrow I will do what is incumbent upon me and fare to offer my services and proffer the honour which beseemeth me.” Rejoined Mubarak, “The end of my master’s wishes is to see thy worship, O my lord Abu Bakr, and be exalted by thy presence and therethrough to win a blessing.” So saying he bussed the reverend’s hand and returned to his own place. On the next day, as Abu Bakr was leading the dawn-prayer of Friday, he took his station amongst the folk amiddlemost the Mosque and
When it was the Five Hundred and Ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Abu Bakr the Imam uprooted on such wise from the minds of men the evil which he had implanted by his own words thrown out against the Emir Zayn al-Asnam. But when he had ended congregational prayers and returned to his home, he donned his long gaberdine[FN#52] and made weighty his skirts and lengthened his sleeves, after which he took the road to the mansion of the Prince; and, when he went in, he stood up before the stranger and did him honour with the highmost distinction. Now Zayn al-Asnam was by nature conscientious albeit young in years; so he returned the Imam Abu Bakr’s civilities with all courtesy and, seating himself beside him upon his high-raised divan, bade bring for him ambergris’d[FN#53] coffee. Then the tables were spread for breakfast and the twain ate and drank their sufficiency, whereafter they fell to chatting like boon companions. Presently the Imam asked the Prince, saying, “O my lord Zayn al-Asnam, doth thy Highness design residing long in this our city of Baghdad?” and the other answered, “Yes indeed,[FN#54] O our lord the Imam; ’tis my intention to tarry here for a while until such time as my requirement shall be fulfilled.” The Imam enquired, “And what may be the requirement of my lord the Emir? Haply when I hear it I may devote my life thereto until I can fulfil it.” Quoth the Prince, “My object is to marry a maiden who must be comely exceedingly, aged fifteen years; pure, chaste, virginal, whom man hath never soiled and who during all her days never lusted for male kind: moreover, she must be unique for beauty and loveliness.” The Imam rejoined, “O my lord, this be a thing hard of finding indeed, hard exceedingly; but I know a damsel of that age who answereth to thy description. Her father, a Wazir who resigned
When it was the Five Hundred and Tenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith me may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad: —It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Imam Abu Bakr took the Prince and passed with him into the mansion of the Wazir; and, when they entered, both salam’d to the housemaster and he rose and received them with greetings especially when he learned that an Emir had visited him and he understood from the Imam that Zayn al-Asnam inclined to wed his daughter. So he summoned her to his presence and she came, whereupon he bade her raise her face-veil; and, when she did his bidding, the Prince considered her and was amazed and perplexed at her beauty and loveliness, he never having seen aught that rivalled her in brightness and brilliancy. So quoth he in his mind, “Would to Heaven I could win a damsel like this, albeit this one be to me unlawful.” Thinking thus he drew forth the mirror from his pouch and considered her image carefully when, lo and behold! the crystal was bright and clean as virgin silver and when he eyed her semblance in the glass he saw it pure as a white dove’s. THen sent he forthright for the Kazi and witnesses and they knotted the knot and wrote the writ and the bride was duly throned. Presently the Prince took the Wazir his father-in-law into his own mansion, and to the young lady he sent a present of costly jewels and it was a notable marriage-festival, none like it was ever seen; no, never. Zayn al-Asnam applied himself to inviting the folk right royally and did honour due to Abu Bakr the Imam, giving him
When it was the Five Hundred and Eleventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Mubarak, after warning Zayn al-Asnam to protect the virgin-bride against himself, fell also to defending her as his deputy: also he prevented the Prince from even looking upon her. They then travelled along the road unto the Island of the Jann, after[FN#59] they had passed by the line leading unto Misr.[FN#60] But when the bride saw that the wayfare had waxed longsome nor had beheld her bridegroom for all that time since the wedding-night, she turned to Mubarak and said, “Allah upon thee; inform me, O Mubarak, by the life of thy lord the Emir, have we fared this far distance by commandment of my bridegroom Prince Zayn al-Asnam?” Said he, “Ah, O my lady, sore indeed is thy case to me, yet must I disclose to thee the secret thereof which be this. Thou imaginest that Zayn al-Asnam, the King of Bassorah, is thy bridegroom; but, alas! ’tis not so. He is no husband of thine; nay, the deed he drew up was a mere pretext in the presence of thy parents and thy people; and now thou art going as a bride to the King of the Jann who required thee of the Prince.” When the young lady heard these words, she fell to shedding tears and Zayn al-Asnam wept for her, weeping bitter tears from
When it was the Five Hundred and Twelfth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Zayn al-Asnam fell to chiding himself for the deceit and treason which he had practised upon the young lady’s parents and for bringing and offering her to the King of the Jann. Then he set out nor ceased travelling till such time as he reached Bassorah, when he entered his palace; and, after saluting his mother, he apprised her of all things that had befallen him. She replied, “Arise, O my son, that we may look upon the Ninth Statue, for I rejoice with extreme joy at its being in our possession.” So both descended into the pavilion where stood the eight images of precious gems and here they found a mighty marvel. ’Twas this. In lieu of seeing the Ninth Statue upon the golden throne, they found seated thereon the young lady whose beauty suggested the sun. Zayn al-Asnam knew her at first sight and presently she addressed him saying, “Marvel not for that here thou findest me in place of that wherefor thou askedst; and I deem that thou shalt not regret nor repent when thou acceptest
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, tell us one of thy fair tales, so therewith we may cut short the waking hours of this our night,” and quoth Shahrazad:—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the King of the Jann said to the Queen-mother, “Indeed Zayn al-Asnam hath not kept faith and covenant with all nicety as regards the young lady, in that he longed for her to become his wife. However, I am assured that this lapse befel him from man’s natural and inherent frailty albeit I repeatedly enjoined him to defend and protect her until he concealed from her his face. I now accept[FN#61] this man’s valour and bestow her upon him to wife, for she is the Ninth Statue by me promised to him and she is fairer than all these jewelled images, the like of her not being found in the whole world of men save by the rarest of chances.” Then the King of the Jann turned to the Prince and said to him, “O Emir Zayn al-Asnam, this is thy bride: take her and enjoy her upon the one condition that thou love her only nor choose for thyself another one in addition to her; and I pledge myself that her faith theewards will be of the fairest.” Hereupon the King of the Jann disappeared and the Prince, gladdened and rejoicing, went forth with the maiden and for his love and affection to her he paid to her the first cermonious visit that same night[FN#62] and he made bride-feasts and banquets throughout his realm and in due time he formally wedded her and went in unto her. Then he stablished himself upon
When it was the Five Hundred and Fourteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad,[FN#65] to Shahrazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales;” and Shahrazad began to relate the story of
It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that there dwelt in a city of the cities of China a man which was a tailor, withal a pauper, and he had one son, Alaeddin hight. Now this boy had been from his babyhood a ne’er-do-well, a scapegrace; and, when he reached his tenth year, his father inclined to teach him his own trade; and, for that he was over indigent to expend money upon his learning other work or craft or apprenticeship, he took the lad into his shop that he might be taught tailoring. But, as Alaeddin was a scapegrace and a ne’er-do-well and wont to play at all times with the gutter boys of the quarter, he would not sit in the shop for a single day; nay, he would await his father’s leaving it for some purpose, such as to meet a creditor, when he would run off at once and fare forth to the gardens with the other scapegraces and low companions, his fellows. Such was his case; counsel and castigation were of no avail, nor would he obey either parent in aught or learn any trade; and presently, for his sadness and sorrowing because of his son’s vicious indolence, the tailor sickened and died. Alaeddin continued in his former ill courses and, when his mother saw that her spouse had deceased, and that her son was a scapegrace and good for nothing at all[FN#66] she sold the shop and whatso was to be found therein and fell to spinning cotton yarn. By this toilsome industry she fed herself and found food for her son Alaeddin the scapegrace who, seeing himself freed from bearing the severities of his sire, increased in idleness and low habits; nor would he ever stay at home save at meal-hours while his miserable wretched mother lived only by what her hands could spin until the youth had reached his fifteenth year.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Alaeddin had come to his fifteenth year, it befel, one day of the days, that as he was sitting about the quarter at play with the vagabond boys behold, a Darwaysh from the Maghrib, the Land of the Setting Sun, came up and stood gazing for solace upon the lads and he looked hard at Alaeddin and carefully considered his semblance, scarcely noticing his companions the while. Now this Darwaysh was a Moorman from Inner Marocco and he was a magician who could upheap by his magic hill upon hill, and he was also an adept in astrology. So after narrowly considering Alaeddin he said in himself, “Verily, this is the lad I need and to find whom I have left my natal land.” Presently he led one of the children apart and questioned him anent the scapegrace saying, “Whose[FN#67] son is he?” And he sought all information concerning his condition and whatso related to him. After this he walked up to Alaeddin and drawing him aside asked, “O my son, haply thou art the child of Such-an-one the tailor?” and the lad answered, “Yes, O my lord, but ’tis long since he died.” The Maghrabi,[FN#68] the Magician, hearing these words threw himself upon Alaeddin and wound his arms around his neck and fell to bussing him, weeping the while with tears trickling adown his cheeks. But when the lad saw the Moorman’s case he was seized with surprise thereat and questioned him, saying, “What causeth thee weep, O my lord: and how camest thou to know my father?” “How canst thou, O my son,” replied the Moorman, in a soft voice saddened by emotion, “question me with such query after informing me that thy father and my brother is deceased; for that he was my brother-german and now I come from my adopted country and after long exile I rejoiced with exceeding joy in the hope of looking upon him once more and condoling with him over the past; and now thou hast announced to me his demise. But blood hideth not from blood[FN#69] and it hath revealed to me that thou art my nephew, son of my brother, and I knew thee amongst all the lads, albeit thy father, when I parted from him, was yet unmarried.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say,
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, said to the tailor’s orphan, “O my son Alaeddin and I have now failed in the mourning ceremonies and have lost the delight I expected from meeting thy father, my brother, whom after my long banishment I had hoped to see once more ere I die; but far distance wrought me this trouble nor hath the creature aught
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventeenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maroccan Magician fared forth next morning and fell to finding out Alaeddin, for his heart no longer permitted him to part from the lad; and, as he was to-ing and fro-ing about the city-highways, he came face to face with him disporting himself, as was his wont, amongst the vagabonds and the scapegraces. So he drew near to him and, taking his hand, embraced him and bussed him, then pulled out of his poke two dinars and said, “Hie thee to thy mother and give her these couple of ducats and tell her that thine uncle would eat the evening-meal with you; so do thou take these two gold pieces and prepare for us a succulent supper. But before all things show me once more the way to your home.” “On my head and mine eyes be it, O my uncle,” replied the lad and forewent him, pointing out the
When it was ad the Five Hundred and Eighteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin’s mother began consoling the Maghrabi, the Magician, and placed him upon the divan; and, as soon as he was seated at his ease and before the food-trays were served up, he fell to talking with her and saying, “O wife of my brother, it must be a wonder to thee how in all thy days thou never sawest me nor learnedst thou aught of me during the life-time of my brother who hath found mercy.[FN#72] Now the reason is that forty years ago I left this town and exiled myself from my birth-place and wandered forth over all the lands of Al-Hind and Al-Sind and entered Egypt and settled for a long time in its magnificent city,[FN#73] which is one of the world-wonders, till at last I fared to the regions of the Setting Sun and abode for a space of thirty years in the Maroccan interior. Now one day of the days, O wife of my brother, as I was sitting alone at home, I fell to thinking of mine own country and of my birth place and of my brother (who hath found mercy); and my yearning to see him waxed excessive and I bewept and bewailed my strangerhood
When it was the Five Hundred and Nineteenth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, said to Alaeddin’s mother, “Whoso leaveth issue is not wholly dead.” And when he looked at his sister-in-law she wept at these his words; so he turned to the lad that he might cause her forget the mention of her mate, as a means of comforting her and also of completing his deceit, and asked him, saying, “O my son Alaeddin what hast thou learned in the way of work and what is thy business? Say me, hast thou mastered any craft whereby to earn a livelihood for thyself and for thy mother?” The lad was abashed and put to shame and he hung down his head and bowed his brow groundwards; but his parent spake out, “How, forsooth? By Allah, he knoweth nothing at all, a child so ungracious as this
When it was the Five Hundred and Twentieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, looked at Alaeddin and saw him smiling, whereby he understood that the lad was satisfied to become a trader. So he said to him, “Since thou art content that I open thee a merchant’s store and make thee a gentleman, do thou, O son of my brother, prove thyself a man and Inshallah—God willing—to-morrow I will take thee to the bazar in the first place and will have a fine suit of clothes cut out for thee, such gear as merchants wear; and, secondly, I will look after a store for thee and keep my word.” Now Alaeddin’s mother had somewhat doubted the Maroccan being her brother-in-law; but as soon as she heard his promise of opening a merchant’s store for her son and setting him up with stuffs and capital and so forth, the woman decided and determined in her mind that this Maghrabi was in very sooth her husband’s brother, seeing that no stranger man would do such goodly deed by her son. So she began directing the lad to the right road and teaching him to cast ignorance from out his head and to prove himself a man; moreover she bade him ever obey his excellent uncle as though he were his son and to make up for the time he had wasted in frowardness with his fellows. After this she arose and spread the table, then served up supper; so all sat down and fell to eating and drinking, while the Maghrabi conversed with Alaeddin upon matters of business and the like, rejoicing him to such degree that he enjoyed no sleep that night. But when the Moorman saw that the dark hours were passing by, and the wine was drunken, he arose and sped to his own stead; but, ere going, he agreed to return next morning and take Alaeddin and look to his suit of merchant’s clothes being cut out for him. And as soon as it was dawn, behold, the Maghrabi rapped at the door which was opened by Alaeddin’s mother: the Moorman, however, would not enter, but asked to take the lad with him to the market-street. Accordingly Alaeddin went forth to his uncle and, wishing him good morning, kissed his hand; and the Maroccan took him by the hand and fared with him to the Bazar. There he entered a clothier’s shop containing all kinds of clothes and called for a suit of the most sumptuous; whereat the merchant brought him out his need, all wholly fashioned and ready sewn, and the Moorman said to the lad, “Choose, O my child, whatso pleaseth thee.” Alaeddin rejoiced exceedingly seeing that his uncle had given him his choice, so he picked out the suit most to his own liking and the Maroccan paid to the merchant the price thereof in ready money. Presently he led the lad to the Hammam-baths where they bathed; then they came out and drank sherbets, after which Alaeddin arose and, donning his new dress in huge joy and delight, went up to his uncle and kissed his hand and thanked him for his favours.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It has reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, after leaving the Hammam with Alaeddin, took him and trudged with him to the Merchants’ bazar; and, having diverted him by showing the market and its sellings and buyings, said to him, “O my son, it besitteth thee to become familiar with the folk, especially with the merchants, so thou mayest learn of them merchant-craft, seeing that the same hath now become thy calling.” Then he led him forth and showed him the city and its cathedral-mosques together with all the pleasant sights therein; and, lastly, made him enter a cook’s shop. Here dinner was served to them on platters of silver and they dined well and ate and drank their sufficiency, after which they went their ways. Presently the Moorman pointed out to Alaeddin the pleasances and noble buildings, and went in with him to the Sultan’s Palace and diverted him with displaying all the apartments which were mighty fine and grand; and led him finally to the Khan of stranger merchants where he himself had his abode. Then the Maroccan invited sundry traders which were in the Caravanserai; and they came and sat down to supper, when he notified to them that the youth was his nephew, Alaeddin by name. And after they had eaten and drunken and night had fallen, he rose up and taking the lad with him led him back to his mother, who no sooner saw her boy as he were one of the merchants[FN#80] than her wits took flight and she waxed sad for very gladness. Then she fell to thanking her false connection, the Moorman, for all his benefits and said to him, “O my brother-in-law, I can never say enough though I expressed my gratitude to thee during the rest of thy days and praised thee for the good deeds thou hast done by this my child.” Thereupon Quoth the Maroccan, “O wife of my brother, deem this not mere kindness of me, for that the lad is mine own son and ’tis incumbent on me to stand in the stead of my brother, his sire. So be thou fully satisfied!” And Quoth she, “I pray Allah by the honour of the Hallows, the ancients and the moderns, that He preserve thee and cause thee to continue, O my brother-in-law and prolong for me thy life; so shalt thou be a wing over-shadowing this orphan lad; and he shall ever be obedient to thine orders nor shall he do aught save whatso thou biddest him thereunto.” The Maghrabi replied, “O wife of my brother, Alaeddin is now a man of sense and the son of goodly folk, and I hope to Allah that he will follow in the footsteps of his sire and cool thine eyes. But I regret that, to-morrow being Friday, I shall not be able to open his shop, as ’tis meeting day when all the merchants, after congregational prayer, go forth to the gardens and pleasances. On the Sabbath,[FN#81] however,
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi went away and lay that night in his quarters; and early next morning he came to the tailor’s house and rapped at the door. Now Alaeddin (for stress of his delight in the new dress he had donned and for the past day’s enjoyment in the Hammam and in eating and drinking and gazing at the folk; expecting furthermore his uncle to come at dawn and carry him off on pleasuring to the gardens) had not slept a wink that night, nor closed his eyelids, and would hardly believe it when day broke. But hearing the knock at the door he went out at once in hot haste, like a spark of fire, and opened and saw his uncle, the Magician, who embraced him and kissed him. Then, taking his hand, the Moorman said to him as they fared forth together, “O son of my brother, this day will I show thee a sight thou never sawest in all thy life,” and he began to make the lad laugh and cheer him with pleasant talk. So doing they left the city-gate, and the Maroccan took to promenading with Alaeddin amongst the gardens and to pointing out for his pleasure the mighty fine pleasances and the marvellous high-builded[FN#82] pavilions. And whenever they stood to stare at a garth or a mansion or a palace the Maghrabi would say to his companion, “Doth this please thee, O son of my brother?” Alaeddin was nigh to fly with delight at seeing sights he had never seen in all his born days; and they ceased not[FN#83] to stroll about and solace themselves until they waxed aweary, when they entered a mighty grand garden which was nearhand, a place that the heart delighted and the sight belighted; for that its swift-running rills flowed amidst the flowers and the waters jetted from the jaws of lions moulded in yellow brass like unto gold. So they took seat over against a lakelet and rested a little while, and Alaeddin enjoyed himself with joy exceeding and fell to jesting with his uncle and making merry with him as though the Magician were really his father’s brother. Presently the Maghrabi arose and loosing his girdle drew forth from thereunder a bag full of victual, dried fruits and so forth, saying to Alaeddin, “O my nephew, haply thou art become anhungered; so come forward and eat what thou needest.” Accordingly the lad fell upon the food and the Moorman ate with
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi wizard said to Alaeddin, “No one of created beings hath enjoyed the sights thou art about to see. But when thou art rested, arise and seek some wood-chips and fuel sticks[FN#85] which be small and dry, wherewith we may kindle a fire: then will I show thee, O son of my brother, matters beyond the range of matter."[FN#86] Now, when the lad heard these words, he longed to look upon what his uncle was about to do and, forgetting his fatigue, he rose forthright and fell to gathering small wood-chips and dry sticks, and continued until the Moorman cried to him, “Enough, O son of my brother!” Presently the Magician brought out from his breast-pocket a casket which he opened, and drew from it all he needed of incense; then he fumigated and conjured and adjured, muttering words none might understand. And the ground straightway clave asunder after thick gloom and quake of earth
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, said to Alaeddin, “O my son, now collect thy thoughts! under yon stone wherein the ring is set lieth the treasure wherewith I acquainted thee: so set thy hand upon the ring and raise the slab, for that none other amongst the folk, thyself excepted, hath power to open it, nor may any of mortal birth, save thyself, set foot within this Enchanted Treasury which hath been kept for thee. But ’tis needful that thou learn of me all wherewith I would charge thee; nor gainsay e’en a single syllable of my words. All this, O my child, is for thy good; the hoard being of immense value, whose like the kings of the world never accumulated, and do thou remember that ’tis for thee and me.” So poor Alaeddin forgot his fatigue and buffet and tear-shedding, and he was dumbed and dazed at the Maghrabi’s words and rejoiced that he was fated to become rich in such measure that not even the Sultans would be richer than himself. Accordingly, he cried, “O my uncle, bid me do all thou pleasest, for I will be obedient unto thy bidding.”
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that after Alaeddin had raised the slab from over the entrance to the Hoard there appeared before him a Sardab, a souterrain, whereunto led a case of some twelve stairs and the Maghrabi said, “O Alaeddin, collect thy thoughts and do whatso I bid thee to the minutest detail nor fail in aught thereof. Go down with all care into yonder vault until thou reach the bottom and there shalt thou find a space divided into four halls,[FN#88] and in each of these thou shalt see four golden jars[FN#89] and others of virgin or and silver. Beware, however, lest thou take aught therefrom or touch them, nor allow thy gown or its skirts even to brush the jars or the walls. Leave them and fare forwards until thou reach the fourth hall without lingering for a single moment on the way; and, if thou do aught contrary thereto thou wilt be at once transformed and become a black stone. When reaching the fourth hall thou wilt find therein a door which do thou open, and pronouncing the names thou spakest over the slab, enter there through into a garden adorned everywhere with fruit-bearing trees. This thou must traverse by a path thou wilt see in front of thee measuring some fifty cubits long, beyond which thou wilt come upon an open saloon[FN#90] and therein a ladder of some thirty rungs. And thou shalt also see hanging from its ceiling”— And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, fell to teaching Alaeddin how he should descend into the Hoard and continued, “On reaching the saloon thou shalt there find a Lamp hanging from its ceiling; so mount the ladder and take that Lamp and place it in thy breast-pocket after pouring out its contents; nor fear evil from it for thy clothes because its contents are not common oil.[FN#91] And on return thou art allowed to pluck from the trees whatso thou pleasest, for all is thine so long as the Lamp is in thy hand.” Now when the Moorman ended his charge to Alaeddin, he drew off a seal-ring[FN#92] and put it upon the lad’s forefinger saying, “O my son, verily this signet shall free thee from all hurt and fear which may threaten thee, but only on condition that thou bear in mind all I have told thee.[FN#93] So arise straightway and go down the stairs, strengthening thy purpose and girding the loins of resolution: moreover fear not for thou art now a man and no longer a child. And in shortest time, O my son, thou shalt win thee immense riches and thou shalt become the wealthiest of the world.” Accordingly, Alaeddin arose and descended into the souterrain, where he found the four halls, each containing four jars of gold and these he passed by, as the Maroccan had bidden him, with the utmost care and caution. Thence he fared into the garden and walked along its length until he entered the saloon, where he mounted the ladder and took the Lamp which he extinguished, pouring out the oil which was therein, and placed it in his breast-pocket. Presently, descending the ladder he returned to the garden where he fell to gazing at the trees whereupon sat birds glorifying with loud voices their great Creator. Now he had not observed them as he went in, but all these trees bare for fruitage costly gems; moreover each had its own kind of growth and jewels of its peculiar sort; and these were of every colour, green and white; yellow, red and other such brilliant hues and the radiance flashing from these gems paled the rays of the sun in forenoon sheen. Furthermore the size of each stone so far surpassed description that no King of the Kings of the world owned a single gem equal to the larger sort nor could boast of even one half the size of the smaller kind of them.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin walked amongst the trees and gazed upon them and other things which surprised the sight and bewildered the wits; and, as he considered them, he saw that in lieu of common fruits the produce was of mighty fine jewels and precious stones,[FN#94] such as emeralds and diamonds; rubies, spinels and balasses, pearls and similar gems astounding the mental vision of man. And forasmuch as the lad had never beheld things like these during his born days nor had reached those years of discretion which would teach him the worth of such valuables (he being still but a little lad), he fancied that all these jewels were of glass or crystal. So he collected them until he had filled his breast-pockets and began to certify himself if they were or were not common fruits, such as grapes, figs and such like edibles. But seeing them of glassy substance, he, in his ignorance of precious stones and their prices, gathered into his breast-pockets every kind of growth the trees afforded; and, having failed of his purpose in finding them food, he said in his mind, “I will collect a portion of these glass fruits for playthings at home.” So he fell to plucking them in quantities and cramming them in his pokes and breast-pockets till these were stuffed full; after which he picked others which he placed in his waist-shawl and then, girding himself therewith, carried off all he availed to, purposing to place them in the house by way of ornaments and, as hath been mentioned, never imagining that they were other than glass. Then he hurried his pace in fear of his uncle, the Maghrabi, until he had passed through the four halls and lastly on his return reached the souterrain where he cast not a look at the jars of gold, albeit he was able and allowed to take of the contents on his way back. But when he came to the souterrain-stairs[FN#95] and clomb the steps till naught remained but the last; and, finding this higher than all the others, he was unable alone and unassisted, burthened moreover as he was, to mount it. So he said to the Maghrabi, “O my uncle, lend me thy hand and aid me to climb;” but the Moorman answered, “O my son, give me the Lamp and lighten thy load; belike ’tis that weigheth thee down.” The lad rejoined, “O my uncle, ’tis not the Lamp downweigheth me at all; but do thou lend me a hand and as soon as I reach ground I will give it to thee.” Hereat the Maroccan, the Magician, whose only object was the Lamp and none other, began to insist upon Alaeddin giving it to him at once; but the lad (forasmuch as he had placed it at the bottom of his breast-pocket and his other pouches being full of gems bulged outwards)[FN#96] could not reach it with his fingers to hand it over, so the wizard after much vain persistency in requiring what his nephew was unable to give, fell to raging with furious rage and to demanding the Lamp whilst Alaeddin could not get at it.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin could not get at the Lamp so as to hand it to his uncle the Maghrabi, that false felon, so the Magician waxed foolish with fury for that he could not win to his wish. Yet had the lad promised truthfully that he would give it up as soon as he might reach ground, without lying thought or ill-intent. But when the Moorman saw that he would not hand it over, he waxed wroth with wrath exceeding and cut off all his hopes of winning it; so he conjured and adjured and cast incense amiddlemost the fire, when forthright the slab made a cover of itself, and by the might of magic ridded the entrance; the earth buried the stone as it was aforetime and Alaeddin, unable to issue forth, remained underground. Now the Sorcerer was a stranger, and, as we have mentioned, no uncle of Alaeddin’s, and he had misrepresented himself and preferred a lying claim, to the end that he might obtain the Lamp by means of the lad for whom his Hoard had been upstored. So the Accursed heaped the earth over him and left him to die of hunger. For this Maghrabi was an African of Afrikiyah proper, born in the Inner Sunset-land, and from his earliest age upwards he had been addicted to witchcraft and had studied and practiced every manner of occult science, for which unholy lore the city of Africa[FN#97] is notorious. And he ceased not to read and hear lectures until he had become a past-master in all such knowledge. And of the abounding skill in spells and conjurations which he had acquired by the perusing and the lessoning of forty years, one day of the days he discovered by devilish inspiration that there lay in an extreme city of the cities of China, named Al-Kal’as,[FN#98] an immense Hoard, the like whereof none of the Kings in this world had ever accumulated: moreover, that the most marvellous article in this Enchanted Treasure was a wonderful Lamp which, whoso possessed, could not possibly be surpassed by any man upon earth, either in high degree or in wealth and opulence; nor could the mightiest monarch of the universe attain to the all-sufficiency of this Lamp with its might of magical means.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Twenty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales.” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Maghrabi assured himself by his science and saw that this Hoard could be opened only by the presence of a lad named Alaeddin, of pauper family and abiding in that very city, and learnt how taking it would be easy and without hardships, he
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirtieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin sat down upon the stair of the vault weeping and wailing and wanting all hopes. But it is a light matter for Allah (be He exalted and extolled !) whenas He designeth aught to say, “Be” and it becometh; for that He createth joy in the midst of annoy; and on this wise it was with Alaeddin. Whilst the Maghrabi, the Magician, was sending him down into the souterrain he set upon his finger by way of gift, a seal ring and said, “Verily,
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell me some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin, issuing from the Treasury, opened his eyes after a short space of time and saw himself upon earth’s surface, the which rejoiced him exceedingly, and withal he was astounded at finding himself without the Hoard-door whereby he had passed in when it was opened by the Maghrabi, the Magician; especially as the adit had been lidded and the ground had been smoothed, showing no sign whatever of entrance. Thereat his surprise increased until he fancied himself in another place, nor was his mind convinced that the stead was the same until he saw the spot whereupon they had kindled the fire of wood-chips and dried sticks, and where the African Wizard had conjured over the incense. Then he turned him rightwards and leftwards and sighted the gardens from afar and his eyes recognized the road whereby he had come. So he returned thanks to Allah Almighty who had restored him to the face of earth and had freed him from death after he had cut off all hopes of life. Presently he arose and walked along the way to the town, which now he well knew, until he entered the streets and passed on to his own home. Then he went in to his mother and on seeing her, of the overwhelming stress of joy at his escape and the memory of past affright and the hardships he had borne and the pangs of hunger, he fell to the ground before his parent in a fainting-fit. Now his mother had been passing sad since the time of his leaving her and he found her moaning and crying about him; however on sighting him enter the house she joyed with exceeding joy, but soon was overwhelmed with woe when he sank upon the ground swooning before her eyes. Still,[FN#102] she did not neglect the matter or treat it lightly, but at once hastened to sprinkle water upon his face and after she asked of the neighbours some scents which she made him snuff up. And when he came round a little, he prayed her to bring him somewhat of food saying, “O my mother ’tis now three days since I ate anything at all.” Thereupon she arose and brought him what she had by her; then, setting it before him, said, “Come forward, O my son; eat and be cheered[FN#103] and, when thou shalt have rested, tell me what hath betided and affected thee, O my child; at this present I will not question thee for thou art aweary in very deed.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell me some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin ate and drank and was cheered and after he had rested and had recovered spirits he cried, “Ah, O my mother, I have a sore grievance against thee for leaving me to that accursed wight who strave to compass my destruction and designed to take my life.[FN#104] Know that I beheld Death with mine own eyes at the hand of this damned wretch, whom thou didst certify to be my uncle; and, had not Almighty Allah rescued me from him, I and thou, O my mother, had been cozened by the excess of this Accursed’s promises to work my welfare, and by the great show of affection which he manifested to us. Learn, O my mother, that this fellow is a sorcerer, a Moorman, an accursed, a liar, a traitor, a hypocrite;[FN#105] nor deem I that the devils under the earth are damnable as he. Allah abase him in his every book! Hear then, O my mother, what this abominable one did, and all I shall tell thee will be soothfast and certain. See how the damned villain brake every promise he made, certifying that he would soon work all good with me; and do thou consider the fondness which he displayed to me and the deeds which he did by me; and all this only to win his wish, for his design was to destroy me; and Alhamdolillah—laud to the Lord—for my deliverance. Listen and learn, O my mother, how this Accursed entreated me.” Then Alaeddin informed his mother of all that had befallen him (weeping the while for stress of gladness); how the Maghrabi had led him to a hill wherein was hidden the Hoard and how he had conjured and fumigated, adding,[FN#106] “After which, O my mother, mighty fear get hold of me when the hill split and the earth gaped before me by his wizardry; and I trembled with terror at the rolling of thunder in mine ears and the murk which fell upon us when he fumigated and muttered spells. Seeing these horrors I in mine affright designed to fly; but, when he understood mine intent he reviled me and smote me a buffet so sore that it caused me to swoon. However, inasmuch as the Treasury was to be opened only by means of me, O my mother, he could not descend therein himself, it being in my name and not in his; and, for that he is an ill-omened magician, he understood that I was necessary to him and this was his need of me.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell me some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin acquainted his mother with all that had befallen him from the Maghrabi, the Magician, and said, “After he had buffetted me, he judged it advisable to soothe me in order that
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Alaeddin’s mother heard his words and what had befallen him from the Maghrabi, the Magician, she said, “Yea, verily, O my son, he is a miscreant, a hypocrite who murthereth the folk by his magic; but ’twas the grace of Allah Almighty, O my child, that saved thee from the tricks and the treachery of this accursed Sorcerer whom I deemed to be truly thine uncle."[FN#108] Then, as the lad had not slept a wink for three days and found himself nodding, he sought his natural rest, his mother doing on like wise; nor did he awake till about noon on the second day. As soon as he shook
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin’s mother could not of her terror return a reply to the Marid; nay she fell to the ground oppressed by her affright.[FN#110] Now her son was standing afar off and he had already seen the Jinni of the Ring which he had rubbed within the Treasury; so when he heard the Slave speaking to his parent, he hastened forwards and snatching the Lamp from her hand, said, “O Slave of the Lamp, I am unhungered and ’tis my desire that thou fetch me somewhat to eat and let it be something toothsome beyond our means.” The Jinni disappeared for an eye-twinkle and returned with a mighty fine tray and precious of price, for that ’twas all in virginal silver and upon it stood twelve golden platters of meats manifold and dainties delicate, with bread snowier than snow; also two silvern cups and as many black jacks[FN#111] full of wine clear-strained and long-stored. And after setting all these before Alaeddin, he evanished from vision. Thereupon the lad went and sprinkled rose water upon his mother’s face and caused her snuff up perfumes pure and pungent and said to her when she revived, “Rise, O mother mine, and let us eat of these meats wherewith Almighty
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin said, “Verily, O my mother, the Jinni who appeared to thee was the Slave of the Lamp.” And when his parent heard these words she cried, “There! there![FN#113] so this Accursed, who showed himself to me and went nigh unto killing me with affright, is attached to the Lamp.” “Yes,” he replied, and she rejoined, “Now I conjure thee, O my son, by the milk wherewith I suckled thee, to throw away from thee this Lamp and this Ring; because they can cause us only extreme terror and I especially can never abear a second glance at them. Moreover
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be not sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin and his mother continued eating of the meats brought them by the Jinni for two full told days till they were finished; but when he learned that nothing of food remained for them, he arose and took a platter of the platters which the Slave had brought upon the tray. Now they were all of the finest gold but the lad knew naught thereof; so he bore it to the Bazar and there, seeing a man which was a Jew, a viler than the Satans,[FN#115] offered it to him for sale. When the Jew espied it he took the lad aside that none might see him, and he looked at the platter and considered it till he was certified that it was of gold refined. But he knew not whether Alaeddin was acquainted with its value or he was in such matters a raw laddie,[FN#116] so he asked him, “For how much, O my lord, this platter?” and the
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Jinni, the Slave of the Lamp, on appearing to Alaeddin said, “Ask, O my lord, whatso thou wantest for I am thy Slave and the thrall of whoso hath the Lamp;” and said the lad, “I desire that thou bring me a tray of food like unto that thou broughtest me erewhiles, for indeed I am famisht.” Accordingly, in the glance of an eye the Slave produced a similar tray supporting twelve platters of the most sumptuous, furnished with requisite cates; and thereon stood clean bread and sundry glass bottles[FN#118] of strained wine. Now Alaeddin’s mother had gone out when she knew he was about to rub the Lamp that she might not again look upon the Jinni; but after a while
When it was the Five Hundred and Thirty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the ancient goldsmith, hearing from Alaeddin how the Jew used to give only one diner as the price of the platter, cried, “Ah! I take refuge from this Accursed who cozeneth the servants of Allah Almighty!” Then, looking at the lad, he exclaimed, “O my son, verily yon tricksy Jew hath cheated thee and laughed at thee, this platter being pure silver and virginal. I have weighed it and found it worth seventy diners; and, if thou please to take its value, take it.” Thereupon the Shaykh counted out to him seventy gold pieces, which he accepted and presently thanked him for his kindness in exposing the Jew’s rascality. And after this, whenever the price of a platter was expended, he would bring another, and on such wise he and his mother were soon in better circumstances;
When it was the Five Hundred and Fortieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin fell to contriving some means whereby he might look upon the Princess Badr al-Budur and at last judged best to take his station behind the Hammam door whence he might see her face as she entered.[FN#126] Accordingly, without stay or delay he repaired to the Baths before she was expected and stood a-rear of the entrance, a place whereat none of the folk happened to be looking. Now when the Sultan’s daughter had gone the rounds of the city and its main streets and had solaced herself by sight-seeing, she finally reached the Hammam and whilst entering she raised her veil, when her face rose before sight as it were a pearl of price or a sheeny sun, and she was as one of whom the describer sang,
“Magic Kohl enchanteth the glances so bright
of her: * We pluck
roses in posies from
cheeks rosy bright of her:
Of night’s gloomiest hue is the gloom of the
hair of her * And
her bright brow uplighteth
the murks of the night of
her."[FN#127]
(Quoth the reciter) when the Princess raised from her face the veil and Alaeddin saw her favour he said, “In very truth her fashion magnifieth her Almighty Fashioner and glory be to Him who created her and adorned her with this beauty and loveliness.” His strength was struck down from the moment he saw her and his thoughts were distraught; his gaze was dazed, the love of her get hold of the whole of his heart; and, when he returned home to his mother, he was as one in ecstasy. His parent addressed him, but he neither replied nor denied; and, when she set before him the morning meal he continued in like case; so Quoth she, “O my son, what is’t may have befallen thee? Say me, doth aught ail thee? Let me know what ill hath betided thee for, unlike thy custom, thou speakest not when I bespeak thee.” Thereupon Alaeddin (who used to think that all women resembled his mother[FN#128] and who, albeit he had heard of the charms of Badr al-Budur, daughter of the Sultan, yet knew not what “beauty” and “loveliness” might signify) turned to his parent and exclaimed, “Let me be!” However, she persisted in praying him to come forwards and eat, so he did her bidding but hardly touched food; after which he lay at full length on his bed all the night through in cogitation deep until morning morrowed. The same was his condition during the next day, when his mother was perplexed for the case of her son and unable to learn what had happened to him. So, thinking that belike he might be ailing she drew near him and asked him saying, “O my son, an thou sense aught of pain or such like, let me know that I may fare forth and fetch thee the physician; and to-day there be in this our city a leech from the Land of the Arabs whom the Sultan hath sent to summon and the bruit abroad reporteth him to be skillful exceedingly. So, an be thou ill let me go and bring him to thee.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin, hearing his parent’s offer to summon the mediciner, said, “O my mother, I am well in body and on no wise ill. But I ever thought that all women resembled thee until yesterday, when I beheld the Lady Badr al-Budur daughter of the Sultan, as she was faring for the Baths.” Then he related to her all and everything that had happened to him adding, “Haply thou also hast heard the crier a-crying, ’Let no man open shop or stand in street that the Lady Badr al-Budur may repair to the
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin took patience until his parent had said her say, when Quoth he, “O my mother, everything thou hast called to mind is known to me; moreover ’tis thoroughly well known to me that I am the child of pauper parents; withal do not these words of thee divert me from my design at all, at all Nor the less do I hope of thee, an I be thy son and thou truly love me, that thou grant
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales;” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin’s mother continued to her son, " ’tis true, O my child, that the Sultan is mild and merciful, never rejecting any who approach him to require justice or ruth or protection, nor any who pray him for a present; for he is liberal and lavisheth favour upon near and far. But he dealeth his boons to those deserving them, to men who have done some derring-do in battle under his eyes or have rendered as civilians great service to his estate. But thou! do thou tell me what feat thou hast performed in his presence or before the public that thou meritest from him such grace? And, secondly, this boon thou ambitionest is not for one of our condition, nor is it possible that the King grant to thee the bourne of thine aspiration; for whoso goeth to the Sultan and craveth of him a favour, him it besitteth to take in hand somewhat that suiteth the royal majesty, as indeed I warned thee aforetime. How, then, shalt thou risk thyself to stand before the Sultan and ask his daughter in marriage, when
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin said to his mother, “Because verily that which I deemed glass or crystal was nothing but precious stones and I hold that all the Kings of the World have never possessed any thing like one of the smallest thereof. For, by frequenting the jeweller-folk, I have learned that they are the costliest gems and these are what I brought in my pockets from the Hoard, whereupon, an thou please, compose thy mind. We have in our house a bowl of China porcelain; so arise thou and fetch it, that I may fill it with these jewels, which thou shalt carry as a gift to the King, and thou shalt stand in his presence and solicit him for my requirement. I am certified that by such means the matter will become easy to thee; and, if thou be unwilling, O my mother, to strive for the winning of my wish as regards the lady Badr al-Budur, know thou that surely I shall die. Nor do thou imagine that this gift is of aught save the costliest of stones and be assured, O my mother, that in my many visits to the Jewellers’ Bazar I have observed the merchants selling for sums man’s judgment may not determine jewels whose beauty is not worth one quarter carat of what we possess; seeing which I was certified that ours are beyond all price. So arise, O my mother, as I bade thee and bring me the porcelain bowl aforesaid, that I may arrange therein some of these gems and we will see what semblance they show.” So she brought him the China bowl saying in herself, “I shall know what to do when I find out if the words of my child concerning these jewels be soothfast or not;” and she set it before her son who pulled the stones out of his pockets and disposed them in the bowl and ceased not arranging therein gems of sorts till such time as he had filled it. And when it was brimful she could not fix her eyes firmly upon it; on the contrary, she winked and blinked for the dazzle of
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin’s mother said to her son, “And in reply I ask of him that which thou desirest in the matter of thy marriage with his daughter, how shall I answer him an he ask me, as is man’s wont, What estates hast thou, and what income? And perchance, O my son, he will question me of this before questioning me of thee.” Alaeddin replied, " ’tis not possible that the Sultan should make such demand what time he considereth the jewels and their magnificence; nor is it meet to think of such things as these which may never occur. Now do thou but arise and set before him this present of precious stones and ask of him his daughter for me, and sit not yonder making much of the difficulty in thy fancy. Ere this thou hast learned, O mother mine, that the Lamp which we possess hath become to us a stable income and that whatso I want of it the same is supplied to me; and
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin’s mother, having come the earliest of all, found means of entering without any addressing her or offering to lead her to the presence; and she ceased not standing there until the Divan ended, when the Sultan arose and withdrew into the palace and the others all went about their business. And when she saw the throne empty and the King passing into his Harem, she also wended her ways and returned home. But as soon as her son espied her, bowl in hand, he thought that haply something untoward had befallen her, but he would not ask of aught until such time as she had set down the bowl, when she acquainted him with that which had occurred
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the mother of Alaeddin, as she made a practice of repairing to the Divan every day and passing into the room and standing opposite the King, albeit she was sorrowful and sore aweary, withal for her son’s sake she endeavored to make easy all her difficulties. Now one day of the days, when she did according to her custom, the Sultan cast his eyes upon her as she stood before him, and said to his Grand Wazir, “This be the very woman
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, if thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the King saw the gems he was seized by surprise and cried, “Never at all until this day saw I anything like these jewels for size and beauty and excellence: nor deem I that there be found in my treasury a single one like them.” Then he turned O Wazir? Tell me hast thou to his Minister and asked, “What sayest thou, seen in thy time such mighty fine jewels as these?” The other answered, “Never saw I such, O our lord the Sultan, nor do I think that there be in the treasures of my lord the Sultan the fellow of the least thereof.” The King resumed, “Now indeed whoso hath presented to me such jewels meriteth to become bridegroom to my daughter, Badr al-Budur; because, as far as I see, none is more deserving of her than he.” When the Wazir heard the Sultan’s words he was tongue-tied with concern and he grieved with sore grief, for the King had promised to give the Princess in marriage to his son; so after a little while he said, “O King of the Age, thy Highness deigned promise me that the Lady Badr al-Budur should be spouse to my son; so ’tis but right that thine exalted Highness vouchsafe us a delay of three months, during which time, Inshallah! my child may obtain and present an offering yet costlier than this.” Accordingly the King, albeit he knew that such a thing could not be done, or by the Wazir or by the greatest of his Grandees, yet of his grace and kindness granted him the required delay. Then he turned to the old woman, Alaeddin’s mother, and said, “Go to thy son and tell him I have pledged my word that my daughter shall be in his name;[FN#139] only ’tis needful that I make the requisite preparations of nuptial furniture for her use; and ’tis only meet that he take patience for the next three months.” Receiving this reply, Alaeddin’s mother thanked the Sultan and blessed him; then, going forth in hottest haste, as one flying for joy, she went home; and when her son saw her entering with a smiling face, he was gladdened at the sign of good news, especially because she had returned without delay as on the Fast days, and had not brought back the bowl. Presently he asked her saying, “Inshallah, thou bearest me, O my mother, glad tidings; and peradventure the jewels and their value have wrought their work and belike thou hast been kindly received by the King and he hath shown thee grace and hath given ear to thy request?” So she told him the whole tale, how the Sultan had entreated her well and had marvelled at the extraordinary size of the gems and their surpassing water as did also the Wazir, adding, “And he promised that his daughter should be thine. Only, O my child, the Wazir spake of a secret contract made with him by the Sultan before he pledged himself to me and, after speaking privily, the King put me off to the end of three months: therefore I have become fearful lest the Wazir be evilly disposed to thee and perchance he may attempt to change the Sultan’s mind.” And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Forty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Alaeddin heard his mother’s words and how the Sultan had promised him his daughter, deferring, however, the wedding until after the third month, his mind was gladdened and he rejoiced exceedingly and said, “Inasmuch as the King hath given his word after three months (well, it is a long time!), at all events my gladness is mighty great.” Then he thanked his parent, showing her how her good work had exceeded her toil and travail; and said to her, “By Allah, O my mother, hitherto I was as ’twere in my grave and therefrom thou hast withdrawn me; and I praise Allah Almighty because I am at this moment certified that no man in the world is happier than I or more fortunate.” Then he took patience until two of the three months had gone by. Now one day of the days his mother fared forth about sundown to the Bazar that she might buy somewhat of oil; and she found all the market shops fast shut and the whole city decorated, and the folk placing waxen tapers and flowers at their casements; and she beheld the soldiers and household troops and Aghas[FN#140] riding in procession and flambeaux and lustres flaming and flaring, and she wondered at the marvellous sight and the glamour of the scene. So she went in to an oilman’s store which stood open still and bought her need of him and said, “By thy life, O uncle, tell me what be the tidings in town this day, that people have made all these decorations and every house and market-street are adorned and the troops all stand on guard?” The oilman asked her, “O woman, I suppose thou art a stranger and not one of this city?” and she answered, “Nay, I am thy townswoman.” He rejoined, “Thou a towns-woman, and yet wottest not that this very night the son of the Grand Wazir goeth in to the Lady Badr al-Budur, daughter of the Sultan! He is now in the Hammam and all this power of soldiery is on guard and standing under arms to await his coming forth, when they will bear him in bridal procession to the palace where the Princess expecteth him.” As the mother of Alaeddin heard these words, she grieved and was distraught in thought and perplexed how to inform her son of this sorrowful event, well knowing that the poor youth was looking, hour by hour, to the end of the three months. But she returned straightway home to him and when she had entered she said, “O my son, I would give thee certain tidings, yet hard to me will be the sorrow they shall occasion thee.” He cried, “Let me know what be thy news;” and she replied, “Verily the Sultan hath broken his promise to thee in the matter of the Lady Badr al-Budur, and this very night the Grand Wazir’s son goeth in to her. And for some time, O my son, I have suspected that the Minister would change the King’s mind, even
When it was the Five Hundred and Fiftieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin after he had supped retired to his chamber and, locking the door, brought out the Lamp and rubbed it, whenas forthright appeared to him its Familiar who said, “Ask whatso thou wantest, for I am thy Slave and Slave to him who holdeth the Lamp in hand; I and all the Slaves of the Lamp.” He replied, “Hear me! I prayed the Sultan for his daughter to wife and he plighted her to me after three months; but he hath not kept his word; nay, he hath given her to the son of the Wazir and this very night the bridegroom will go in to her. Therefore I command thee (an thou be a trusty Servitor to the Lamp) when thou shalt see bride and bridegroom bedded together this night,[FN#143] at once take them up and bear them hither abed; and this be what I want of thee.” The Marid replied, “Hearing and obeying; and if thou have other service but this, do thou demand of me all thou desirest.” Alaeddin “At the present time I require naught save that I bade thee do.” Here upon the Slave disappeared and Alaeddin returned to pass the rest of the evening with his mother. But at the hour when he knew that the Servitor would be coming, he arose and refired to his chamber and after a little while, behold, the Marid came bringing to him the newly-wedded couple upon their bridal-bed. Alaeddin rejoiced to see them with exceeding joy; then he cried to the Slave, “Carry yonder gallows-bird hence and lay him at full length in the privy."[FN#144] His bidding was done straightway; but, before leaving him, the Slave blew upon the bridegroom a blast so cold that it shrivelled him and the plight of the Wazir’s son became piteous. Then the Servitor returning to Alaeddin said to him, “An thou require aught else, inform me thereof;” and said the other, “Return a-morn that thou mayest restore them
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales.” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Lady Badr al-Budur, daughter of the Sultan, saw herself in that mean and darksome lodging, and heard Alaeddin’s words, she was seized with fear and trembling and waxed clean distraught; nor could she return aught of reply. Presently the youth arose and stripping off his outer dress placed a scymitar between them and lay upon the bed beside the Princess;[FN#145] and he did no villain deed, for it sufficed him to prevent the consummation of her nuptials with the Wazir’s son. On the other hand the Lady Badr al-Budur passed a night the evillest of all nights; nor in her born days had she seen a worse; and the same was the case with the Minister’s son who lay in the chapel of ease and who dared not stir for the fear of the Jinni which overwhelmed him. As soon as it was morning the Slave appeared before Alaeddin, without the Lamp being rubbed, and said to him, “O my lord, an thou require aught, command me therefor, that I may do it upon my head and mine eyes.” Said the other, “Go, take up and carry the bride and bridegroom to their own apartment;” so the Servitor did his bidding in an eye-glance and bore away the pair, and placed them in the palace as whilome they were and without their seeing any one; but both died of affright when they found themselves being transported from stead to stead.[FN#146] And the Marid had barely time to set them down and wend his ways ere the Sultan came on a visit of congratulation to his daughter; and, when the Wazir’s son heard the doors thrown open, he sprang straightway from his couch and donned his dress[FN#147] for he knew that none save the King could enter at that hour. Yet it was exceedingly hard for him to leave his bed wherein he wished to warm himself a trifle after his cold night in the water closet which he had lately left.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Sultan went in to his daughter Badr al-Budur and kissing her between the eyes gave her good morning and asked her of her bridegroom and whether she was pleased and satisfied with him. But she returned no reply whatever and looked at him with the eye of anger and, although he repeated his words again and again, she held her peace nor bespake him with a single syllable. So the King quitted her and, going to the Queen, informed her of what had taken place between him and his daughter; and the mother, unwilling to leave the Sultan angered with their child, said to him, “O King of the Age, this be the custom of most newly-married couples at least during their first days of marriage, for that they are bashful and somewhat coy. So deign thou excuse her and after a little while she will again become herself and speak with the folk as before, whereas now her shame, O King of the Age, keepeth her silent. However ’tis my wish to fare forth and see her.” Thereupon the Queen arose and donned her dress; then, going to her daughter, wished her good morning and kissed her between the eyes. Yet would the Princess make no answer at all, whereat Quoth the Queen to herself, “Doubtless some strange matter hath occurred to trouble her with such trouble as this.” So she asked her saying “O my daughter, what hath caused this thy case? Let me know what hath betided thee that, when I come and give thee good morning, thou hast not a word to say to me?” Thereat the Lady Badr al-Budur raised her head and said, “Pardon me O my mother, ’twas my duty to meet thee with all respect and worship, seeing that thou hast honoured me by this visit. However, I pray thee to hear the cause of this my condition and see how the night I have just spent hath been to me the evillest of the nights. Hardly had we lain down, O my mother, than one whose form I wot not uplifted our bed and transported it to a darksome place, fulsome and mean.” Then the Princess related to the Queen-mother all that had befallen her that night; how they had taken away her bridegroom, leaving her lone and lonesome, and how after a while came another youth who lay beside her, in lieu of her bridegroom, after placing his scymitar between her and himself; “and in the morning” (she continued) “he who carried us off returned and bore us straight back to our own stead. But at once when he arrived hither he left us and suddenly my sire the Sultan entered at the hour and moment of our coming and I I had nor heart nor tongue to speak him withal, for the stress of the terror and trembling which came upon me. Haply such lack of duty may have proved sore to him, so I hope, O my mother, that thou wilt acquaint him with the cause of this my condition and that he will pardon me for not answering him and blame me not, but rather accept my excuses.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Queen heard these words of Princess Badr al-Budur, she said to her, “O my child, compose thy thoughts. An thou tell such tale before any, haply shall he say, ’Verily, the Sultan’s daughter hath lost her wits.’ And thou hast done right well in not choosing to recount thine adventure to thy father; and beware and again I say beware, O my daughter, lest thou inform him thereof.” The Princess replied, “O my mother, I have spoken to thee like one sound in senses nor have I lost my wits: this be what befel me and, if thou believe it not because coming from me, ask my bridegroom.” To which the Queen replied, “Rise up straightway, O my daughter, and banish from thy thoughts such fancies as these; and robe thyself and come forth to glance at the bridal feasts and festivities they are making in the city for the sake of thee and thy nuptials; and listen to the drumming and the singing and look at the decorations all intended to honour thy marriage, O my daughter.” So saying, the Queen at once summoned the tirewomen who dressed and prepared the Lady Badr al-Budur; and presently she went in to the Sultan and assured him that their daughter had suffered during all her wedding-night from swevens and nightmare and said to him, “Be not severe with her for not answering thee.” Then the Queen sent privily for the Wazir’s son and asked of the matter, saying, “Tell me, are these words of the Lady Badr al-Budur soothfast or not?” But he, in his fear of losing his bride out of hand, answered, “O my lady, I have no knowledge of that whereof thou speakest.” Accordingly the mother made sure that her daughter had seen visions and dreams. The marriage-feasts lasted throughout that day with Almahs[FN#148] and singers and the smiting of all manner instruments of mirth and merriment, while the Queen and the Wazir and his son strave right strenuously to enhance the festivities that the Princess might enjoy herself; and that day they left nothing of what exciteth to pleasure unrepresented in her presence, to the end that she might forget what was in her thoughts and derive increase of joyance. Yet did naught of this take any effect upon her; nay, she sat in silence, sad of thought, sore perplexed at what had befallen her during the last night. It is true that the Wazir’s son had suffered even more because he had passed his sleeping hours lying in the water-closet: he, however, had falsed the story and had cast out remembrance of the night in the first place for his fear of losing his bride and with her the honour of a connection which brought him such excess of consideration and for which men envied him so much; and, secondly, on account of the wondrous loveliness of the Lady Badr al-Budur and her marvellous beauty. Alaeddin
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Slave appeared in presence of Alaeddin, he was bidden to bring him the Sultan’s daughter together with her bridegroom as on the past night ere the Wazir’s son could abate her maidenhead. So the Marid without stay or delay evanished for a little while until the appointed time, when he returned carrying the bed whereon lay the Lady Badr al-Budur and the Wazir’s son; and he did with the bridegroom as he had done before, to wit, he took him up and lay him at full length in the jakes and there left him dried up for excess of fear and trembling. Then Alaeddin arose, and placing the scymitar between himself and the Princess, lay down beside her; and when day broke the Slave restored the pair to their own place, leaving Alaeddin filled with delight at the state of the Minister’s son. Now when the Sultan woke up amorn he resolved to visit his daughter and see if she would treat him as on the past day; so shaking off his sleep he sprang up and arrayed himself in his raiment and, going to the apartment of the Princess bade open the door. Thereat the son of the Wazir arose forthright and came down from his bed and began donning his dress whilst his ribs were wrung with cold; for when the King entered the Slave had but just brought him back. The Sultan, raising the arras,[FN#149] drew near his daughter as she lay abed and gave her good morning; then kissing her between the eyes, he asked her of her case. But he saw her looking sour and sad and she answered him not at all, only glowering at him as one in anger and her plight was pitiable. Hereat the Sultan waxed wroth with her for that she would not reply and he suspected that something evil had befallen her,[FN#150] whereupon he bared his blade and cried to her, brand in hand, saying, “What be this hath betided thee? Either acquaint me with what happened or this very moment I will take thy life! Is such conduct the token of honour and respect I expect of thee, that I address thee and thou answerest me not a word?” When the Lady Badar al- Badur
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Sultan heard his daughter’s words, he was saddened and his eyes brimmed with tears, then he sheathed his sabre and kissed her saying, “O my daughter wherefore[FN#151] didst thou not tell me what happened on the past night that I might have guarded thee from this torture and terror which visited thee a second time? But now ’tis no matter. Rise and cast out all such care and to-night I will set a watch to ward thee nor shall any mishap again make thee miserable.” Then the Sultan returned to his palace and straightway bade summon the Grand Wazir and asked him, as he stood before him in his service, “O Wazir how dost thou look upon this matter? Haply thy son hath informed thee of what occurred to him and to my daughter.” The Minister replied, “O King of the Age, I have not seen my son or yesterday or to-day.” Hereat the Sultan told him all that had afflicted the Princess, adding, " ’tis my desire that thou at once seek tidings of thy son concerning the facts of the case: peradventure of her fear my daughter may not be fully aware of what really befel her; withal I hold all her words to be truthful.” So the Grand Wazir arose and, going forth, bade summon his son and asked him anent all his lord had told him whether it be true or untrue. The youth replied, “O my father the Wazir, Heaven forbid that the Lady Badr al-Budur speak falsely: indeed all she said was sooth and these two nights proved to us the evillest of our nights instead of being nights of pleasure and marriage-joys. But what befel me was the greater evil because, instead of sleeping abed with my bride, I lay in the wardrobe, a black hole, frightful, noisome of stench, truly damnable; and my ribs were bursten with cold.” In fine the young man told his father the whole tale, adding as he ended it, “O dear father mine, I implore thee to speak with the Sultan that he may set me free from this marriage. Yes, indeed ’tis a high honour for me to be the Sultan’s son-in-law and especially the love of the Princess hath gotten hold of my vitals; but I have no strength left to endure a single night like unto these two last.”—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Wazir, hearing the words of his son, was saddened and sorrowful exceedingly, for it was his design to advance and promote his child by making him son-in-law to the Sultan. So he became thoughtful and perplexed about the affair and the device whereby to manage it, and it was sore grievous for him to break off the marriage, it having been a rare enjoyment to him that he had fallen upon such high good fortune. Accordingly he said, “Take patience, O my son, until we see what may happen this night, when we will set watchmen to ward you; nor do thou give up the exalted distinction which hath fallen to none save to thyself.” Then the Wazir left him and, returning to the sovran, reported that all told to him by the Lady Badr al-Budur was a true tale; whereupon Quoth the Sultan, “Since the affair is on this wise, we require no delay,” and he at once ordered all the rejoicings to cease and the marriage to be broken off. This caused the folk and the citizen to marvel at the matter, especially when they saw the Grand Wazir and his son leaving the palace in pitiable plight for grief and stress of passion; and the people fell to asking, “What hath happened and what is the cause of the wedding being made null and void?” Nor did any know aught of the truth save Alaeddin the lover who claimed the Princess’s hand, and he laughed in his sleeve. But even after the marriage was dissolved, the Sultan forgot nor even recalled to mind his promise made to Alaeddin’s mother; and the same was the case with the Grand Wazir, while neither had any inkling of whence befel them that which had befallen. So Alaeddin patiently awaited the lapse of the three months after which the Sultan had pledged himself to give him to wife his daughter; but, as soon as ever the term came, he sent his mother to the Sultan for the purpose of requiring him to keep his covenant. So she went to the palace and when the King appeared in the Divan and saw the old woman standing before him, he remembered his promise to her concerning the marriage after a term of three months, and he turned to the Minister and said “O Wazir, this be the ancient dame who presented me with the jewels and to whom we pledged our word that when the three months had elapsed we would summon her to our presence before all others.” So the Minister went forth and fetched her[FN#152] and when she went in to the Sultan’s presence she saluted him and prayed for his glory and permanence of prosperity. Hereat the King asked her if she needed aught, and she answered, “O King of the Age, the three months’ term thou assignedst to me is finished, and this is thy time to marry my son Alaeddin with thy daughter, the Lady Badr al-Budur.” The Sultan was distraught at this demand, especially when he saw the
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Grand Wazir who was dying of envy and who was especially saddened by what had befallen his son, said to himself, “How shall one like this wed the King’s daughter and my son lose this highmost honour?” Accordingly, he answered his Sovran speaking privily, “O my lord, ’tis an easy[FN#153] matter to keep off a poor devil such as this, for he is not worthy that thy Highness give his daughter to a fellow whom none knoweth what he may be.” “By what means,” enquired the Sultan, “shall we put off the man when I pledged my promise; and the word of the Kings is their bond?” Replied the Wazir, “O my lord, my rede is that thou demand of him forty platters made of pure sand-gold[FN#154] and full of gems (such as the woman brought thee aforetime), with forty white slave-girls to carry the platters and forty black eunuch-slaves.” The King rejoined, “By Allah, O Wazir, thou hast spoken to the purpose, seeing that such thing is not possible and by this way we shall be freed.” Then Quoth he to Alaeddin’s mother, “Do thou go and tell thy son that I am a man of my word even as I plighted it to him, but on condition that he have power to pay the dower of my daughter; and that which I require of him is a settlement consisting of two score platters of virgin gold, all brimming with gems the like of those thou broughtest to me, and as many white handmaids to carry them and two score black eunuch-slaves to serve and escort the bearers. An thy son avail hereto I will marry him with my daughter.” Thereupon she returned home wagging her head and saying in her mind, “Whence can my poor boy procure these platters and such jewels? And granted that he return to the Enchanted Treasury and pluck them from the trees which, however, I hold impossible; yet given that he bring them whence shall he come by the girls and the blacks?” Nor did she leave communing with herself till she reached her home, where she found Alaeddin awaiting her, and she lost no time in saying “O my son, did I not tell thee never to fancy that thy power would extend to the Lady Badr al-Budur, and that such a matter is not possible to folk like ourselves?” “Recount to me the news,” Quoth he; so Quoth she, “O my child, verily the Sultan received me with all honour according to his custom and, meseemeth his intentions towards
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Alaeddin heard these words he laughed and said, “O my mother, thou affirmeth that we have no answer and thou deemest the case difficult exceedingly; but compose thy thoughts and arise and bring me somewhat we may eat; and, after we have dined, an the Compassionate be willing, thou shalt see my reply. Also the Sultan thinketh like thyself that he hath demanded a prodigious dower in order to divert me from his daughter, whereas the fact is that he hath required of me a matter far less than I expected. But do thou fare forth at once and purchase the provision and leave me to procure thee a reply.” So she went out to fetch her needful from the Bazar and Alaeddin retired to his chamber and taking the Lamp rubbed it, when forthright appeared to him its Slave and said, “Ask, O my lord, whatso thou wantest.” The other replied, “I have demanded of the Sultan his daughter to wife and he hath required of me forty bowls of purest gold each weighing ten pounds[FN#155] and all to be filled with gems such as we find in the Gardens of the Hoard; furthermore, that they be borne on the heads of as many white handmaids, each attended by her black eunuch-slave, also forty in full rate; so I desire that thou bring all these into my presence.” “Hearkening and obeying, O my lord,” Quoth the Slave and, disappearing for the space of an hour or so, presently returned bringing the platters and jewels, handmaids and eunuchs; then, setting them before him the Marid cried, “This be what thou demandest of me: declare now an thou want any matter or service other than this.” Alaeddin rejoined, “I have need of naught else; but, an I do, I will summon thee and let thee know.” The Slave now disappeared and, after a little while, Alaeddin’s mother returned home and, on entering the house, saw the blacks and the handmaids.[FN#156] Hereat she wondered and exclaimed, “All this proceedeth from the Lamp which Allah perpetuate to my son!” But ere she doffed her mantilla Alaeddin said to her, “O my mother, this be thy time before the Sultan enter his Serraglio-palace;[FN#157] do
When it was the Five Hundred and Fifty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the folk and especially the people of the quarter stood a marvelling at this singular scene. Then Alaeddin’s mother walked forwards and all the handmaids and eunuchs paced behind her in the best of ordinance and disposition, and the citizens gathered to gaze at the beauty of the damsels, glorifying God the Most Great, until the train reached the palace and entered it accompanied by the tailor’s widow. Now when the Aghas and Chamberlains and Army-officers beheld them, all were seized with surprise, notably by seeing the handmaids who each and every would ravish the reason of an anchorite. And albeit the royal Chamberlains and Officials were men of family, the sons of Grandees and Emirs, yet they could not but especially wonder at the costly dresses of the girls and the platters borne upon their heads; nor could they gaze at them open eyed by reason of the exceeding brilliance and radiance. Then the Nabobs went in and reported to the King who forthright bade admit them to the presence chamber, and Alaeddin’s mother went in with them. When they stood before the Sultan, all saluted him with every sign of respect and worship and prayed for his glory and prosperity; then they set down from their heads the bowls at his feet and, having removed the brocade covers, rested with arms crossed behind them. The Sultan wondered with exceeding wonder and was distraught by the beauty of the handmaids and their loveliness which passed praise; and his wits were wildered when he considered the golden bowls brimful of gems which captured man’s vision, and he was perplexed at the marvel until he became, like the dumb, unable to utter a syllable
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixtieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the King heard the words of his Grand Wazir, he knew that the speech was prompted by excess of envy; so turning to the mother of Alaeddin he said, “O woman, go to thy son and tell him that I have accepted of him the dower and stand to my bargain, and that my daughter be his bride and he my son-in-law: furthermore, bid him at once make act of presence that I may become familiar with him: he shall see naught from me save all honour and consideration, and this night shall be the beginning of the marriage-festivities. Only, as I said to thee, let him come to me and tarry not.” Thereupon Alaeddin’s mother returned home with the speed of the stormwinds that she might hasten her utmost to congratulate her son; and she flew with joy at the thought that her boy was about to become[FN#159] son-in-law to the Sultan. After her departure the King dismissed the Divan and, entering the palace of the Princess, bade them bring the bowls and the handmaids before him and before her, that she also might inspect them. But when the Lady Badr al-Budur considered the jewels, she waxed distraught and cried, “Meseemeth that in the treasuries of the world there be not found one jewel rivalling these jewels.” Then she looked at the handmaids and marvelled at their beauty and loveliness, and knew that all this
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin, after having been washed and bathed, left the Baths and went into the great hall where he found that his old dress had been removed and replaced by a suit of the most precious and princely. Then he was served with sherbets and ambergris’d coffee[FN#162] and, after drinking, he arose and a party of black slaves came forwards and clad him in the costliest of clothing, then perfumed and fumigated him. It is known that Alaeddin was the son of a tailor, a pauper, yet now would none deem him to be such; nay, all would say, “This be the greatest that is of the progeny of the Kings: praise be to Him who changeth and who is not changed!” Presently came the Jinni and lifting him up bore him to his home and asked, “O my lord, tell me hast thou aught of need?” He answered, “Yes, ’tis my desire that thou bring me eight and forty Mamelukes, of whom two dozen shall forego me and the rest follow me, the whole number with their war-chargers and clothing and accoutrements; and all upon them and their steeds must be of naught save of highest worth and the costliest, such as may not be found in treasuries of the Kings. Then fetch me a stallion fit for the riding of the Chosroes and let his furniture, all thereof, be of gold crusted with the finest gems:[FN#163] fetch me also eight and forty thousand dinars that each white slave may carry a thousand gold pieces. ’tis now my intent to fare to the Sultan, so delay thou not, for that without all these requisites whereof I bespake thee I may not visit him. Moreover set before me a dozen slave-girls unique in beauty and dight with the most magnificent dresses, that they wend with my mother to the royal palace; and let every handmaid be robed in raiment that befitteth Queen’s wearing.” The Slave replied, “To hear is to obey;” and, disappearing for an eye-twinkling, brought all he was bidden bring and led by hand a stallion whose rival was not amongst the Arabian Arabs,[FN#164] and its saddle cloth was of splendid brocade gold-inwrought. Thereupon, without stay or delay, Alaeddin sent for his mother and gave her the garments she should wear and committed to her charge the twelve slave-girls forming her suite to the palace. Then he sent one of the Mamelukes, whom the Jinni had brought, to see if the Sultan had left the Serraglio or not. The white slave went forth lighter than the lightning and returning in like haste, said, “O my lord, the Sultan awaiteth thee!” Hereat Alaeddin arose and took horse, his Mamelukes riding a-van and a-rear of him, and they were such that all must cry, “Laud to the Lord who created them and clothed them with such beauty and loveliness.” And they scattered gold amongst the crowd in front of their master who surpassed them all in comeliness and seemlihead nor needst thou ask concerning the sons of the Kings,-
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the people were bewildered at Alaeddin and his liberality and generosity; and all blessed and prayed for him, high and low, as he rode palace-wards with the Mamelukes before and behind him, scattering gold upon the heads of the folk. Now the Sultan had assembled the Lords of the land and, informing them of the promise he had passed to Alaeddin, touching the marriage of his daughter, had bidden them await his approach and then go forth, one and all, to meet him and greet him. Hereupon the Emirs and Wazirs, the Chamberlains, the Nabobs and the Army-officers took their stations expecting him at the palace gate. Alaeddin would fain have dismounted at the outer entrance; but one of the Nobles, whom the King had deputed for such duty, approached him and said, “O my lord, ’tis the Royal Command that thou enter riding thy steed nor dismount except at the Divan-door."[FN#166] Then they all forewent him in a body and conducted him to the appointed place where they crowded about him, these to hold his stirrup and those supporting him on either side whilst others took him by the hands and helped him dismount; after which all the Emirs and Nobles preceded him into the Divan and led him close up to the royal throne. Thereupon the Sultan came down forthright from his seat of estate and, forbidding him to buss the carpet, embraced and kissed and seated him to the right[FN#167] of and beside himself. Alaeddin did whatso is suitable, in the case of the Kings, of salutation and offering of blessings, and said, “O our lord the Sultan, indeed the generosity of thy Highness demanded that thou deign vouchsafe to me the hand of thy daughter, the Lady Badr al-Budur, albeit I undeserve the greatness of such gift, I being but the humblest of thy slaves I pray Allah grant thee prosperity and perpetuance; but in very sooth, O King, my tongue is helpless to thank thee for the fullness of the favour, passing all measure, which thou hast bestowed upon me. And I hope of thy Highness that thou wilt give me a piece of ground fitted for a pavilion which shall besit thy daughter,
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Sultan beheld Alaeddin after such fashion, he rejoiced in him with mighty great joy and straightway bade the music[FN#168] and the bands strike up; then he arose and, taking the youth led him into the palace where supper had been prepared and the Eunuchs at once laid the tables. So the Sovran sat down and seated his son-in-law on his right side and the Wazirs and high officials and Lords of the land took places each according to his degree, whereupon the bands played and a mighty fine marriage-feast was dispread in the palace. The King now applied himself to making friendship with Alaeddin and conversed with the youth, who answered him with all courtesy and eloquence, as though he had been bred in the palaces of the kings or he had lived with them his daily life. And the more the talk was prolonged between them, the more did the Sultan’s pleasure and delight increase, hearing his son-in-law’s readiness of reply and his sweet flow of language. But after they had eaten and drunken and the trays were removed, the King bade summon the Kazis and witnesses who presently attended and knitted the knot and wrote out the contract-writ between Alaeddin and the Lady Badr al-Budur. And presently the bridegroom arose and would have fared forth, when his father in law withheld him and asked, “Whither away, O my child? The bride-fetes have begun and the marriage is made and the tie is tied and the writ is written.” He replied, “O my lord the King, ’tis my desire to edify, for the Lady Badr al-Budur, a pavilion befitting her station and high degree, nor can I visit her before
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Slave evanished and, before the next dawn brake, returned to Alaeddin and said, “O my lord, the pavilion is finished to the fullest of thy fancy; and, if thou wouldst inspect it, arise forthright and fare with me.” Accordingly, he rose up and the Slave carried him in the space of an eye-glance to the pavilion which, when Alaeddin looked upon it struck him with surprise at such building, all its stones being of jasper and alabaster, Sumaki[FN#169] marble and mosaic-work. Then the Slave led him into the treasury which was full of all manner of gold and silver and costly gems, not to be counted or computed, priced or estimated. Thence to another place, where Alaeddin saw all requisites for the tables, plates and dishes, spoons and ladles, basins and covers, cups and tasses, the whole of precious metal: thence to the kitchen, where they found the kitcheners provided with their needs and cooking batteries, likewise golden and silvern; thence to a warehouse piled up with chests full-packed of royal raiment, stuffs that captured the reason, such as gold-wrought brocades from India and China and kimcobs[FN#170] or orfrayed cloths; thence to many apartments replete with appointments which beggar description; thence
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine; an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Slave, after displaying the Carpet to Alaeddin, bore him home. Now day was brightening so the Sultan rose from his sleep and throwing open the casement looked out[FN#173] and espied, opposite his palace, a palatial pavilion ready edified. Thereupon he fell to rubbing his eyes and opening them their widest and considering the scene, and he soon was certified that the new edifice was mighty fine and grand enough to be-wilder the wits. Moreover, with amazement as great he saw the carpet dispread between palace and pavilion: like their lord also the royal door-keepers and the household, one and all, were dazed and amazed at the spectacle. Meanwhile[FN#174] the Wazir came in and, as he entered, espied the newly builded pavilion and the carpet, whereat he also wondered; and, when he went in to the Sultan the twain fell to talking on this marvellous matter with great surprise at a sight which distracted the gazer and attracted
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Wazir heard the Sultan’s words, he knew that his lord loved Alaeddin exceedingly; so his envy and malice increased; only, as he could do nothing against the youth, he sat silent and impotent to return a reply. But Alaeddin seeing that it was broad day, and the appointed time had come for his repairing to the palace (where his wedding was being celebrated and the Emirs and Wazirs and Grandees were gathered together about the Sultan to be present at the ceremony), arose and rubbed the Lamp, and when its Slave appeared and said, O my lord, ask whatso thou wantest, for I stand before thee and at thy service,” said he, “I mean forthright to seek the palace, this day being my wedding-festival and I want thee to supply me with ten thousand dinars.” The Slave evanished for an eye-twinkling and returned bringing the moneys, when Alaeddin took horse with his Mamelukes a-van and a-rear and passed on his way, scattering as he went gold pieces upon the lieges until all were fondly affected towards him and his dignity was enhanced. But when he drew near the palace, and the Emirs and Aghas and Army-officers who were standing to await him noted his approach, they hastened straightway to the King and gave him the tidings thereof; whereupon the Sultan rose and met his son-in-law and after embracing and kissing him,
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when dinner was done, Alaeddin rose and, farewelling the Sultan, took horse with his Mamelukes and rode to his own pavilion that he might prepare to receive therein his bride, the Lady Badr al-Budur. And as he passed, all the folk shouted their good wishes with one voice and their words were, “Allah gladden thee! Allah increase thy glory. Allah grant thee length of life!” while immense crowds of people gathered to swell the marriage procession and they conducted him to his new home, he showering gold upon them during the whole time. When he reached his pavilion, he dismounted and walked in and sat him down on the divan, whilst his Mamelukes stood before him with arms afolded; also after a short delay they brought him sherbets and, when these were drunk, he ordered his white slaves and handmaids and eunuchs and all who were in the pavilion to make ready for meeting the Lady Badr al-Budur. Moreover, as soon as mid-afternoon came and the air had cooled and the great heat of the sun was abated, the Sultan bade his Army-officers and Emirs and Wazirs go down into the Maydan plain[FN#176] whither he likewise rode. And Alaeddin also took horse with his Mamelukes, he mounting a stallion whose like was not among the steeds of the Arab al-Arba,[FN#177]
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Sultan returned from the Maydan-plain to his palace he ordered the household, men as well as women, straightway to form a cavalcade for his daughter, with all ceremony, and bear her to her bridegroom’s pavilion. So the nobles and soldier-officers, who had followed and escorted the bridegroom, at once mounted, and the handmaids and eunuchs went forth with wax-candles and made a mighty fine procession for the Lady Badr al-Budur and they paced on preceding her till they entered the pavilion of Alaeddin whose mother walked beside the bride. In front of the Princess also fared the wives of the Wazirs and Emirs, Grandees and Notables, and in attendance on her were the eight and forty slave-girls presented to her aforetime by her bridegroom, each hending in hand a huge cierge scented with camphor and ambergris and set in a candlestick of gem-studded gold. And reaching Alaeddin’s pavilion they led her to her bower in the upper storey and changed her robes and enthroned her; then, as soon as the displaying was ended, they accompanied her to Alaeddin’s
When it was the Five Hundred and Sixty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, ’With love and good will.”—–It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Sultan heard of Alaeddin’s approach, he rose up forthright to receive him and embraced and kissed him as though he were his own son: then, seating him on his right, he blessed and prayed for him, as did the Wazirs and Emirs, the Lords of the land and the Grandees of the realm. Presently, the King commanded bring the morning-meal which the attendants served up and all broke their fast together, and when they had eaten and drunken their sufficiency and the tables were removed by the eunuchs, Alaeddin turned to the Sultan
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Wazir said to the Sultan, “O my lord, I conceive that the want of finish in this window resulteth from thy Highness having pushed on Alaeddin’s marriage and he lacked the leisure to complete it.” Now at that time, Alaeddin had gone in to his bride, the Lady Badr al-Budur,
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that after the King had inspected the work of his jewellers and goldsmiths, they informed him how all the gems stored in the Lesser Treasury had been brought to them and used by them but that the whole had proved insufficient; wherefor he bade open the Greater Treasury and gave the workmen all they wanted of him. Moreover he allowed them, an it sufficed not, to take the jewels wherewith Alaeddin had gifted him. They carried off the whole and pushed on their labours but they found the gems fail them, albeit had they not yet finished half the part wanting to the Kiosque-window. Herewith the King commended them to seize all the precious stones owned by the Wazirs and Grandees of the realm; but, although they did his bidding, the supply still fell short of their requirements. Next morning Alaeddin arose to look at the jeweller’s work and remarked that they had not finished a moiety of what was wanting to the Kiosque-window: so he at once ordered them to undo all they had done and restore the jewels to their owners. Accordingly, they pulled out the precious stones and sent the Sultan’s to the Sultan and the Wazirs’ to the Wazirs. Then the jewellers went to the King and told him of what Alaeddin had bidden; so he asked them, “What said he to you, and what was his reason and wherefore was he not content that the window be finished and why did he undo the work ye wrought?” They answered, “O our lord, we know not at all, but he bade us deface whatso we had done.” Hereupon the Sultan at once called for his horse, and mounting, took the way pavilion-wards, when Alaeddin, after dismissing the goldsmiths and jewellers had retired into his closet and had rubbed the Lamp. Hereat straightway its Servitor appeared to him and said, “Ask whatso thou wantest: thy Slave is between thy hands;” and said Alaeddin, " ’tis my desire that thou finish the window which was left unfinished.” The Marid replied, “On my head be it and also upon mine eyes!” then he vanished and after a little while returned saying, “O my lord, verily that thou commandedst me do is completed.” So Alaeddin went upstairs to the Kiosque and found the whole window in wholly finished state; and, whilst he was still considering it, behold, a castrato came in to him and said, “O my lord, the Sultan hath ridden forth to visit thee and is passing through the pavilion-gate.” So Alaeddin at once went down and received his father-in-law. And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—–It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Sultan, on sighting his son-in-law, cried to him, “Wherefore, O my child, hast thou wrought on this wise and sufferedst not the jewellers to complete the Kiosque-window leaving in the pavilion an unfinished place?” Alaeddin replied “O King of the Age, I left it not imperfect save for a design of mine own; nor was I incapable of perfecting it nor could I purpose that thy Highness should honour me with visiting a pavilion wherein was aught of deficiency. And, that thou mayest know I am not unable to make it perfect, let thy Highness deign walk upstairs with me and see if anything remain to be done therewith or not.” So the Sultan went up with him and, entering the Kiosque, fell to looking right and left, but he saw no default at all in any of the windows; nay, he noted that all were perfect. So he marvelled at the sight and embraced Alaeddin and kissed him, saying, “O my son, what be this singular feat? Thou canst work in a single night what in months the jewellers could not do. By Allah, I deem thou hast nor brother nor rival in this world.” Quoth Alaeddin, “Allah prolong thy life and preserve thee to perpetuity! thy slave deserveth not this encomium;” and Quoth the King, “By Allah, O my child, thou meritest all praise for a feat whereof all the artists of the world were incapable.” Then the Sultan came clown and entered the apartments of his daughter the Lady Badr al-Budur, to take rest beside her, and he saw her joyous exceedingly at the glory and grandeur wherein she was; then, after reposing awhile he returned to his palace. Now Alaeddin was wont every day to thread the city-streets with his Mamelukes riding a-van and a-rear of him showering rightwards and leftwards gold upon the folk; and all the world, stranger and neighbour, far and near, were fulfilled of his love for the excess of his liberality and generosity. Moreover he increased the pensions of the poor Religious and the paupers and he would distribute alms to them with his own hand; by which good deed, he won high renown throughout the realm and most of the Lords of the land and Emirs would eat at his table; and men swore not at all save by his precious life. Nor did he leave faring to the chase and the Maydan-plain and the riding of horses and playing at javelin-play[FN#186] in presence of the Sultan; and, whenever the Lady Badr al-Budur beheld him disporting himself on the backs of steeds, she loved him much the more, and thought to herself that Allah had wrought her abundant good by causing to happen whatso happened with the son of the Wazir and by preserving her virginity intact for her true bridegroom, Alaeddin.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales.” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin won for himself day by day a fairer fame and a rarer report, while affection for him increased in the hearts of all the lieges and he waxed greater in the eyes of men. Moreover it chanced that in those days certain enemies took horse and attacked the Sultan, who armed and accoutred an army to repel them and made Alaeddin commander thereof. So he marched with his men nor ceased marching until he drew near the foe whose forces were exceeding many; and, presently, when the action began he bared his brand and charged home upon the enemy. Then battle and slaughter befel and violent was the hurry-burly, but at last Alaeddin broke the hostile host and put all to flight, slaying the best part of them and pillaging their coin and cattle, property and possessions; and he despoiled them of spoils that could not be counted nor computed. Then he returned victorious after a noble victory and entered the capital which had decorated herself in his honour, of her delight in him; and the Sultan went forth to meet him and giving him joy embraced him and kissed him; and throughout the kingdom was held high festival with great joy and gladness. Presently, the Sovran and his son-in-law repaired to the pavilion where they were met by the Princess Badr al-Budur who rejoiced in her husband and, after kissing him between the eyes, led him to her apartments. After a time the Sultan also came and they sat down while the slave-girls brought them sherbets and confections which they ate and drank. Then the Sultan commanded that the whole kingdom be decorated for the triumph of his son-in-law and his victory over the invader; and the subjects and soldiery and all the people knew only Allah in heaven and Alaeddin on earth; for that their love, won by his liberality, was increased by his noble horsemanship and his successful battling for the country and putting to flight the foe. Such then was the high fortune of Alaeddin; but as regards the Maghrabi, the Magician, after returning to his native country, he passed all this space of time in bewailing what he had borne of toil and travail to win the Lamp and mostly that his trouble had gone vain and that the morsel when almost touching his lips had flown from his grasp. He pondered all this and mourned and reviled Alaeddin for the excess of his rage against him and at times he would exclaim, “For this bastard’s death underground I am well satisfied and hope only that some time or other I may obtain the Lamp, seeing how ’tis yet safe.” Now one day of the days he struck a table of sand and dotted down the figures and carefully considered their consequence; then he transferred them to paper that he might study them and make sure of Alaeddin’s destruction and the safety of the Lamp preserved beneath the earth. Presently,
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Magician, having considered and ascertained that Alaeddin had escaped from the souterrain and had gotten the boon of the Lamp, said to himself, “There is no help but that I work for his destruction.” He then struck another geomantic table and examining the figures saw that the lad had won for himself unmeasurable riches and had wedded the daughter of his King; so of his envy and jealousy he was fired with the flame of wrath; and, rising without let or stay, he equipped himself and set forth for China-land, where he arrived in due season. Now when he had reached the King’s capital wherein was Alaeddin, he alighted at one of the Khans; and, when he had rested from the weariness of wayfare, he donned his dress and went down to wander about the streets, where he never passed a group without hearing them prate about the pavilion and its grandeur and vaunt the beauty of Alaeddin and his lonesomeness, his liberality and generosity, his fine manners and his good morals. Presently he entered an establishment wherein men were drinking a certain warm beverage;[FN#188] and, going up to one of those who were loud in their lauds, he said to him, “O fair youth, who may be the man ye describe and commend?” “Apparently thou art a foreigner, O man,” answered the other, “and thou comest from a far country; but, even this granted, how happeneth it thou hast not heard of the Emir Alaeddin whose renown, I fancy, hath filled the universe and whose pavilion, known by report to far and near, is one of the Wonders of the World? How, then, never came to thine ears aught of this or the name of Alaeddin (whose glory and enjoyment our Lord increase!) and his fame?” The Moorman replied, “The sum of my wishes is to look upon
When it was the, Five Hundred and Seventy-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Maghrabi, the Magician, reached his caravanserai, he took his astrological gear[FN#189] and geomantic table to discover where might be the Lamp; and he found that it was in the pavilion and not upon Alaeddin’s person. So he rejoiced thereat with joy exceeding and exclaimed, “Now indeed ’twill be an easy task to take the life of this Accursed and I see my way to getting the Lamp.” Then he went to a coppersmith and said to him, “Do thou make me a set of lamps and take from me their full price and more; only I would have thee hasten to finish them.” Replied the smith, “Hearing and obeying,” and fell aworking to keep his word; and when they were ready the Moorman paid him what price he required; then taking them he carried them to the Khan and set them in a basket. Presently he began wandering about the highways and market-streets of the capital crying aloud, “Ho! who will exchange old lamps for new lamps?’’[FN#190] But when the folk heard him cry on this wise, they derided him and said, “Doubtless this man is Jinn-mad, for that he goeth about offering new for old;” and a world followed him and the children of the quarter caught him up from place to place, laughing at him the while, nor did he forbid them or care for their maltreatment. And he ceased not strolling about the streets till he came under Alaeddin’s pavilion,[FN#191] where he shouted with his loudest voice and the boys screamed at him, “A madman! A madman!” Now Destiny had decreed that the Lady Badr al-Budur be sitting in her Kiosque whence she heard one crying like a crier, and the children bawling at him; only she understood not what was going on; so she gave orders to one of her slave-girls saying,[FN#192] “Go thou and see who ’tis that crieth and what be his cry?” The girl fared forth and looked on when she beheld a man crying, “Ho! who will exchange old lamps for new lamps?” and the little ones pursuing and laughing at him; and as loudly laughed
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, ’With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that hereupon the Princess said to the slave-girl, ’Bring the old lamp which thou saidst to have seen in thy lord’s apartment.” Now the Lady Badr al-Budur knew naught of the Lamp and of the specialties thereof which had raised Alaeddin her spouse to such high degree and grandeur; and her only end and aim was to understand by experiment the mind of a man who would give in exchange the new for the old. So the handmaid fared forth and went up to Alaeddin’s apartment and returned with the Lamp to her lady who, like all the others, knew nothing of the Maghrabi’s cunning tricks and his crafty device. Then the Princess bade an Agha of the eunuchry go down and barter the old Lamp for a new lamp. So he obeyed her bidding and, after taking a new lamp from the man, he returned and laid it before his lady who looking at it and seeing that it was brand-new, fell to laughing at the Moorman’s wits. But the Maroccan, when he held the article in hand and recognised it for the Lamp of the Enchanted Treasury,[FN#194] at once placed it in his breast-pocket and left all the other lamps to the folk who were bartering of him. Then he went forth running till he was clear of the city, when he walked leisurely over the level grounds and he took patience until night fell on him in desert ground where was none other but himself. There he brought out the Lamp when suddenly appeared to him the Marid who said, “Adsum! thy slave between thy hands is come: ask of me whatso thou wantest.” " ’tis my desire,” the Moorman replied, “that thou upraise from its present place Alaeddin’s pavilion with its inmates and all that be therein, not forgetting myself, and set it down upon my own land, Africa. Thou knowest my town and I want the building placed in the gardens hard by it.” The Marid-slave replied, “Hearkening and obedience: close thine eyes and open thine eyes whenas thou shalt find thyself together with the pavilion in thine own country.” This was done; and, in an eye-twinkling, the Maroccan and the pavilion with all therein were transported to the African land. Such then was the work of the Maghrabi, the Magician; but now let us return to the Sultan and his son-in-law. It was the custom of the King, because of his attachment to and his affection for his daughter, every morning when he had shaken off sleep, to open the latticed casement and look out therefrom that he might catch sight of her abode. So that day he arose and did as he was wont.—And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Sultan drew near the latticed casement of his palace and looked out at Alaeddin’s pavilion he saw naught; nay, the site was smooth as a well-trodden highway and like unto what it had been aforetime; and he could find nor edifice nor offices. So astonishment clothed him as with a garment, and his wits were wildered and he began to rub his eyes, lest they be dimmed or darkened, and to gaze intently; but at last he was certified that no trace of the pavilion remained nor sign of its being; nor wist he the why and the wherefore of its disappearance. So his surprise increased and he smote hand upon hand and the tears trickled down his cheeks over his beard, for that he knew not what had become of his daughter. Then he sent out officials forthright and summoned the Grand Wazir who at once attended; and, seeing him in this piteous plight said, ’Pardon, O King of the Age, may Allah avert from thee every ill! Wherefore art thou in such sorrow?” Exclaimed the Sovran, “Methinketh thou wottest not my case?” and Quoth the Minister, “On no wise. O our lord: by Allah, I know of it nothing at all.” “Then,” resumed the Sultan, " ’tis manifest thou hast not looked this day in the direction of Alaeddin’s pavilion.” “True, O my lord,” Quoth the Wazir, “it must still be locked and fast shut;” and Quoth the King, “Forasmuch as thou hast no inkling of aught,[FN#195] arise and look out at the window and see Alaeddin’s pavilion whereof thou sayest ’tis locked and fast shut.” The Minister obeyed his bidding but could not see anything, or pavilion or other place; so with mind and thoughts sore perplexed he returned to his liege lord who asked him, “Hast now learned the reason of my distress and noted yon locked-up palace and fast shut?” Answered the Wazir, “O King of the Age erewhile I represented to thy Highness that this pavilion and these matters be all magical.” Hereat the Sultan, fired with wrath, cried, “Where be Alaeddin?” and the Minister replied, “He hath gone a-hunting,” when the King commanded without stay or delay sundry of his Aghas and Army-officers to go and bring to him his son-in-law chained and with pinioned elbows. So they fared forth until they found Alaeddin when they said to him, “O our lord Alaeddin, excuse us nor be thou wroth with us; for the King hath commanded that we carry thee before him pinioned and fettered, and we hope pardon from thee because we are under the royal orders which we cannot gainsay.” Alaeddin, hearing these words, was seized with surprise and not knowing the reason of this remained tongue-tied for a time, after which he turned to them and asked, “O assembly, have you naught of knowledge concerning the motive of the royal mandate? Well I wot my
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Aghas, having bound Alaeddin in bonds and pinioned his elbows behind his back, haled him in chains and carried him into the city. But when the lieges saw him pinioned and ironed, they understood that the Sultan purposed to strike off his head; and, forasmuch as he was loved of them exceedingly, all gathered together and seized their weapons; then, swarming out of their houses, followed the soldiery to see what was to do. And when the troops arrived with Alaeddin at the palace, they went in and informed the Sultan of this, whereat he forthright commanded the Sworder to cut off the head of his son-in-law. Now as soon as the subjects were aware of this order, they barricaded the gates and closed the doors of the palace and sent a message to the King saying, “At this very moment we will level thine abode over the heads of all it containeth and over thine own,[FN#197] if the least hurt or harm befal Alaeddin.” So the Wazir went in and reported to the Sultan, “O King of the Age, thy commandment is about to seal the roll of our lives; and ’twere more suitable that thou pardon thy son-in-law lest there chance to us a sore mischance; for that the lieges do love him far more than they love us.” Now the Sworder had already dispread the carpet of blood and, having seated Alaeddin thereon, had bandaged his eyes; moreover he had walked round him several times awaiting the last orders of his lord, when the King looked out of the window and saw his subjects, who had suddenly attacked him, swarming up the walls intending to tear them down. So forthright he bade the Sworder stay his hand from Alaeddin and commanded the crier fare forth to the crowd and cry aloud that he had pardoned his son-in-law and received him back into favour. But when Alaeddin found himself free and saw the Sultan seated on his throne, he went up to him and said, “O my lord, inasmuch as thy Highness hath favoured me throughout my life, so of thy grace now deign let me know the how and the wherein I have sinned against thee?” “O traitor, cried the King, “unto this present I knew not any sin of thine;” then, turning to the Wazir he said, “Take him and make him look out at the window and after let him tell us where be his pavilion.” And when the royal order was obeyed Alaeddin saw the place level as a well trodden road, even as it had been ere the base of the building
When it was the Five Hundred and Seventy-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Sultan said to Alaeddin, “Verily I have granted thee thy request, a delay of forty days; but think not thou canst fly from my hand, for I would bring thee back even if thou wert above the clouds instead of being only upon earth’s surface.” Replied Alaeddin, “O my lord the Sultan, as I said to thy Highness, an I fail to bring her within the term appointed, I will present myself for my head to be stricken off.” Now when the folk and the lieges all saw Alaeddin at liberty, they rejoiced with joy exceeding and were delighted for his release; but the shame of his treatment and bashfulness before his friends and the envious exultation of his foes had bowed down Alaeddin’s head; so he went forth a wandering through the city ways and he was perplexed concerning his case and knew not what had befallen him. He lingered about the capital for two days, in saddest state, wotting not what to do in order to find his wife and his pavilion, and during this time sundry of the folk privily brought him meat and drink. When the two days were done he left the city to stray about the waste and open lands outlying the walls, without a notion as to whither he should wend; and he walked on aimlessly until the path led him beside a river where, of the stress of sorrow that overwhelmed him, he abandoned himself to despair and thought of casting himself into the water. Being, however, a good Moslem who professed the unity of the God-head, he feared Allah in his soul; and, standing upon the margin he prepared to perform the Wuzu-ablution. But as he was baling up the water in his right hand and rubbing his fingers,[FN#199] it so chanced that he also rubbed the Ring. Hereat its Marid appeared and said to him, “Adsum!
When it was the Five Hundred and Eightieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin lay that night under a tree beside his pavilion in all restfulness; but whoso weareth head hard by the headsman may not sleep o’ nights save whenas slumber prevail over him. He slumbered till Morning showed her face and, when awakened by the warbling of the small birds, he arose and went down to the bank of the river which flowed thereby into the city; and here he again washed hands and face [FN#201] and after finished his Wuzu-ablution. Then he prayed the dawn-prayer, and when he had ended his orisons he returned and sat down under the windows of the Princess’s bower. Now the Lady Badr al-Budur, of her exceeding sorrow for severance from her husband and her sire the Sultan, and for the great mishap which had happened to her from the Maghrabi, the Magician, the Accursed, was wont to rise during the murk preceding dawn and to sit in tears inasmuch as she could not sleep o’ nights, and had forsworn
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Lady Badr al-Budur ceased speaking, Alaeddin resumed, “Tell me the intent of this Accursed in thy respect, also what he sayeth to thee and what be his will of thee?” She replied, “Every day he cometh to visit me once and no more: he would woo me to his love and he sueth that I take him to spouse in lieu of thee and that I forget thee and be consoled for the loss of thee. And he telleth me that the Sultan my sire hath cut off my husband’s head, adding that thou, the son of pauper parents, wast by him enriched. And he sootheth me with talk, but he never seeth aught from me save weeping and wailing; nor hath he heard from me one sugar-sweet word."[FN#202] Quoth Alaeddin, “Tell me where he hath placed the Lamp an thou know anything thereof:” and Quoth she, “He beareth it about on his body
When it Was the Five Hundred and Eighty-second Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when Alaeddin went in disguised to his wife he said, “Hear me! I desire of thee that thou dress and dight thyself in thy best and thou cast off all outer show and semblance of care; also when the Accursed, the Maghrabi, shall visit thee, do thou receive him with a ‘Welcome and fair welcome,’ and meet him with smiling face and invite him to come and sup with thee. Moreover, let him note that thou hast forgotten Alaeddin thy beloved, likewise thy father; and that thou hast learned to love him with exceeding love, displaying to him all manner joy and pleasure. Then ask him for wine which must be red and pledge him to his secret in a significant draught; and, when thou hast given him two to three cups full and hast made him wax careless, then drop these drops into his cup and fill it up with wine: no sooner shall he drink of it than he will fall upon his back senseless as one dead.” Hearing these words, the Princess exclaimed,” ’Tis exceedingly sore to me that I do such deed;[FN#205] withal must I do it that we escape the defilement of this Accursed who tortured me by severance from thee and from my sire. Lawful and right therefore is the slaughter of this Accursed.” Then Alaeddin ate and drank with his wife what hindered his hunger; then, rising without stay or delay, fared
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-third Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that when the Maghrabi saw the love lavisht upon him by the Lady Badr al-Budur, and noted her change from the sorrowful, melancholy woman she was wont to be, he thought that she had cut off her hope of Alaeddin and he joyed exceedingly and said to her, “I hear and obey, O my lady, whatso thou wishest and all thou biddest. I have at home a jar of our country wine, which I have carefully kept and stored deep in earth for a space of eight years; and I will now fare and fill from it our need and will return to thee in all haste.” But the Princess, that she might wheedle him the more and yet more, replied “O my darling, go not thou, leaving me alone, but send one of the eunuchs to fill for us thereof and do thou remain sitting beside me, that I may find in thee my consolation.” He rejoined, “O my lady, none wotteth where the jar be buried save myself nor will I tarry from thee.” So saying, the Moorman went out and after a short time he brought back as much wine as they wanted whereupon Quoth the Princess to him, “Thou hast been at pains and trouble to serve me and I have suffered for thy sake, O my beloved.” Quoth he, “On no wise, O eyes of me; I hold
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-fourth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin entering his pavilion, went up to the apartment of his wife, whom he found still sitting at table; and facing her lay the Maghrabi as one slaughtered; so he at once drew near to her and kissed her and thanked her for this. Then rejoicing with joy exceeding he turned to her and said “Do thou with thy handmaids betake thyself to the inner-rooms and leave me alone for the present that I may take counsel touching mine affair.” The Princess hesitated not but went away at once, she and her women; then Alaeddin arose and after locking the door upon them, walked up to the Moorman and put forth his hand to his breast-pocket and thence drew the Lamp; after which he unsheathed his sword and slew the villain.[FN#207] Presently he rubbed the Lamp and the Marid-slave appeared and said, “Adsum, O my lord, what is it thou wantest?” “I desire of thee,” said Alaeddin, “that thou take up my pavilion from this country and transport it to the land of China and there set it down upon the site where it was whilome, fronting the palace of the Sultan.” The Marid replied, “Hearing and obeying, O my lord.’ The Alaeddin went and sat down with his wife and throwing his arms round her neck kissed her and she kissed him, and they sat in converse, what while the Jinni transported the pavilion and all therein to the place appointed. Presently Alaeddin bade the handmaids spread the table before him and he and the Lady Badr al-Budur took seat thereat and fell to eating and drinking, in all joy and gladness, till they had their sufficiency when, removing to the chamber of wine and cup-converse, they sat there and caroused in fair companionship and each kissed other with all love-liesse. The time had been long and longsome since they enjoyed aught of pleasure; so they ceased not doing thus until the wine-sun arose in their heads and sleep get hold of them, at which time they went to their bed in all ease and comfort.[FN#208] Early on the next morning Alaeddin woke and awoke his wife, and the slave-girls came in and donned her dress and prepared her and adorned her whilst her husband arrayed himself in his costliest raiment and the twain were ready to fly for joy at reunion after parting. Moreover the Princess was especially joyous and gladsome because on that day she expected to see her beloved father. Such was the case of Alaeddin and the Lady Badr al-Budur; but as regards the Sultan, after he drove away his son-in-law he never ceased to sorrow for the loss of his daughter; and every hour of every day he would sit and weep for her as women weep, because she was his only child and he had none other to take to heart. And as he shook off sleep, morning after morning, he would hasten to the window and throw it open and peer in the direction where formerly stood Alaeddin’s
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-fifth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, With love and good will.”—–It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Lady Badr al-Budur began to inform the Sultan of all which had befallen her, saying, “O my father, I recovered not life save yesterday when I saw my husband, and he it was who freed me from the thraldom of that Maghrabi, that Magician, that Accursed, than whom I believe there be none viler on the face of earth; and, but for my beloved, I had never escaped him nor hadst thou seen me during the rest of my days. But mighty sadness and sorrow get about me, O my father, not only for losing thee but also for the loss of a husband, under whose kindness I shall be all the length of my life, seeing that he freed me from that fulsome sorcerer.” Then the Princess began repeating to her sire every thing that happened to her, and relating to him how the Moorman had tricked her in the guise of a lamp-seller who offered in exchange new for old; how she had given him the Lamp whose worth she knew not, and how she had bartered it away only to laugh at the lampman’s folly. “And next morning, O my father,” she continued, “we found ourselves and whatso the pavilion contained in Africa-land, till such time as my husband came to us and devised a device whereby we escaped: and, had it not been for Alaeddin’s hastening to our aid, the Accursed was determined to enjoy me perforce.” Then she told him of the Bhang-drops administered in wine to the African and concluded, “Then my husband returned to me and how I know not, but we were shifted from Africa land to this place.” Alaeddin in his turn recounted how, finding the wizard dead drunken, he had sent away his wife and her women from the polluted
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-sixth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin said to the Sultan, “O King of the Time, thou didst naught to me contrary to Holy Law, and I also sinned not against thee; but all the trouble came from that Maghrabi, the impure, the Magician.” Thereupon the Sultan bade the city be decorated and they obeyed him and held high feast and festivities. He also commanded the crier to cry about the streets saying, “This day is a mighty great fete, wherein public rejoicings must be held throughout the realm, for a full month of thirty days, in honour of the Lady Badr al-Budur and her husband Alaeddin’s return to their home.” On this wise befel it with Alaeddin and the Maghrabi; but withal the King’s son-in-law escaped not wholly from the Accursed, albeit the body had been burnt and the ashes scattered in air. For the villain had a brother yet more villainous than himself, and a greater adept in necromancy, geomancy and astromancy; and, even as the old saw saith “A bean and ’twas split;"[FN#210] so each one dwelt in his own quarter of the globe that he might fill it with his sorcery, his fraud and his treason.[FN#211] Now, one day of the days it fortuned that the Moorman’s brother would learn how it fared with him, so he brought out his sandboard and dotted it and produced the figures which, when he had considered and carefully studied them, gave him to know that the man he sought was dead and housed in the tomb. So he grieved and was certified of his decease, but he dotted a second time
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-seventh Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Necromancer, went up to the folk who were talking of the miracles performed by the devout old woman and said to one of them, “O my uncle, I heard you all chatting about the prodigies of a certain saintess named Fatimah: who is she and where may be her abode? “Marvellous!"[FN#217] exclaimed the man: “How canst thou be in our city and yet never have heard about the miracles of the Lady Fatimah? Evidently, O thou poor fellow, thou art a foreigner, since the fastings of this devotee and her asceticism in worldly matters and the beauties of her piety never came to thine ears.” The Moorman rejoined, " ’tis true, O my lord: yes, I am a stranger and came to this your city only yesternight; and I hope thou wilt inform me concerning the saintly miracles of this virtuous woman and where may be her wone, for that I have fallen into a calamity, and ’tis my wish to visit her and crave her prayers, so haply Allah (to whom be honour and glory!) will, through her blessings, deliver me from mine evil.” Hereat the man recounted to him the
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-eighth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, after murthering Fatimah, threw her body into a pit and went back to sleep in her cavern; and, when broke the day, he rose and repairing to the town took his stand under the walls of Alaeddin’s pavilion. Hereupon flocked the folk about him, all being certified that he was Fatimah the Devotee and he fell to doing whatso she was wont to do: he laid hands on these in pain and recited for those a chapter of the Koran and made orisons for a third. Presently the thronging of the folk and the clamouring of the crowd were heard by the Lady Badr al-Budur, who said to her handmaidens, “Look what is to do and what be the cause of this turmoil!” Thereupon the Agha of the eunuchry fared forth to see what might be the matter and presently returning said, “O my lady, this clamour is caused by the Lady Fatimah, and if thou be pleased to command, I will bring her to thee; so shalt thou gain through her a blessing.” The Princess answered, “Go bring her, for since many a day I am always hearing of her miracles and her virtues, and I do long to see her and get a blessing by her intervention, for the folk recount her manifestations in many cases of difficulty.” The Agha went forth and brought in the Maroccan, the Necromancer, habited in Fatimah’s clothing; and, when the wizard stood before the Lady Badr al-Budur, he began at first sight to bless her with a string of prayers; nor did any one of those present doubt at all but that he was the Devotee herself. The Princess arose and salam’d to him then seating him beside her, said, “O my Lady Fatimah, ’tis my desire that thou abide with me alway, so might I be blessed through thee, and also learn of thee the paths[FN#222] of worship and piety and follow thine example making for salvation.” Now all this was a foul deceit of the accursed African and he designed furthermore to complete his guile, so he continued, “O my Lady, I am a poor woman and a religious that dwelleth in the desert; and the like of me deserveth not to abide in the palaces of the kings.” But the Princess replied, “Have no care whatever, O my Lady Fatimah; I will set apart for thee an apartment of my pavilion, that thou mayest worship therein and none shall ever come to trouble thee; also thou shalt avail to worship Allah in my place better than in thy cavern.” The Maroccan rejoined,” Hearkening and obedience, O my lady; I will not oppose thine order for that the commands of the children of the kings may not be gainsaid nor renounced. Only I hope of thee that my eating and drinking and sitting may be within my own chamber which shall be kept wholly private; nor do I require or desire the delicacies of diet, but do thou favour me by sending thy handmaid every day with a bit of bread and a sup of water;[FN#223] and, when I feel fain of food, let
When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-ninth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Lady Badr al-Budur arose and taking the Necromancer who had disguised himself as the Devotee, ushered him in to the place which she had kindly promised him for a home and said, “O my Lady Fatimah, here thou shalt dwell with every comfort about thee and in all privacy and repose; and the place shall be named after thy name;” whereupon the Maghrabi acknowledged her kindness and prayed for her. Then the Princess showed him the jalousies and the jewelled Kiosque with its four and twenty windows[FN#224] and said to him, “What thinkest thou, O my Lady Fatimah, of this marvellous pavilion?” The Moorman replied, “By Allah, O my daughter, ’tis indeed passing fine and wondrous exceedingly; nor do I deem that its fellow is to be found in the whole universe; but alas for the lack of one thing which would enhance its beauty and decoration !” The Princess asked her, “O my Lady Fatimah, what lacketh it and what be this thing would add to its adornment? Tell me thereof, inasmuch as I was wont to believe it wholly perfect.” The Maroccan answered, “O my lady, all it wanteth is that there be hanging from the middle of the dome the egg of a fowl called the Rukh;[FN#225] and, were this done, the pavilion would lack its peer all the world over.” The Princess asked, “What be this bird and where can we find her egg?” and the Maroccan answered, “O my lady, the Rukh is indeed a giant fowl which carrieth off camels and elephants in her pounces and flieth away with them, such is her stature and strength; also this fowl is mostly found in Mount Kaf; and the architect who built this pavilion is able to bring thee one of her eggs.” They then left such talk as it was the hour for the noon day meal and, when the handmaid had spread the table, the Lady Badr al-Budur sent down to invite the Accursed African to eat with her. But he accepted not and for a reason he would on no wise consent; nay, he rose and retired to the room which the Princess had assigned to him and whither the slave-girls carried his dinner. Now when evening evened, Alaeddin returned from the chase and met his wife who salam’d to him and he clasped her to his bosom and kissed her. Presently, looking at her face he saw thereon a shade
When it was the Five Hundred and Ninetieth Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that Alaeddin after refreshing the spirits of his Princess by promising her all she could desire, repaired straight way to his chamber and taking the Lamp[FN#226] rubbed it, when the Marid appeared without let or delay saying, “Ask whatso thou wantest.” Said the other, “I desire thee to fetch me an egg of the bird Rukh and do thou hang it to the dome-crown of this my pavilion.” But when the Marid heard these words, his face waxed fierce and he shouted with a mighty loud voice and a frightful, and cried, “O denier of kindly deeds, sufficeth it not for thee that I and all the Slaves of the Lamp are ever at thy service, but thou must also require me to bring thee our Liege Lady[FN#227] for thy pleasure, and hang her up at thy pavilion dome for the enjoyment of thee and thy wife! Now by Allah, ye deserve, thou and she, that I reduce you to ashes this very moment and scatter you upon the air; but, inasmuch as ye twain be ignorant of this matter, unknowing its inner from its outer significance, I will pardon you for indeed ye are but innocents. The offence cometh from that accursed Necromancer, brother to the Maghrabi, the Magician, who abideth here representing himself to be Fatimah, the Devotee, after assuming her dress and belongings and murthering her in the cavern: indeed he came hither seeking to slay thee by way of blood-revenge for his brother; and ’tis he who taught thy wife to require this matter of me.’’[FN#228] So saying the Marid evanished. But when Alaeddin heard these words, his wits fled his head and his joints trembled at the Marid’s terrible shout; but he empowered his purpose and, rising forthright, issued from his chamber and went into his wife’s. There he affected an ache of head, for that he knew how famous was Fatimah for the art and mystery of healing all such pains; and, when the Lady Badr al-Budur saw him sitting hand to head and complaining of unease,
When it was the Five Hundred and Ninety-first Night,
Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Necromancer, habited as Fatimah the Devotee, came up to Alaeddin that he might place hand upon his head and heal his ache; so he imposed one hand and, putting forth the other under his gown, drew a dagger wherewith to slay him. But Alaeddin watched him and, taking patience till he had wholly unsheathed the weapon, seized him with a forceful grip; and, wrenching the dagger from his grasp plunged it deep into his heart. When the Lady Badr al-Budur saw him do on this wise, she shrieked and cried out, “What hath this virtuous and holy woman done that thou hast charged thy neck with the heavy burthen of her blood shed wrongfully? Hast thou no fear of Allah that thou killest Fatimah, this saintly woman, whose miracles are far-famed?” “No,” replied Alaeddin “I have not killed Fatimah. I have slain only Fatimah’s slayer, he that is the brother of the Maghrabi, the Accursed, the Magician, who carried thee off by his black art and transported my pavilion to the Africa-land; and this damnable brother of his came to our city and wrought these wiles, murthering Fatimah and assuming her habit, only that he might avenge upon me his brother’s blood; and he also ’twas who taught thee to require of me a Rukh’s egg, that my death might result from such requirement. But, an thou doubt my speech, come forwards and consider the person I have slain.” Thereupon Alaeddin drew aside the Moorman’s face-kerchief and the Lady Badr al-Budur saw the semblance of a man with a full beard that well nigh covered his features. She at once knew the truth and said to her husband, “O my beloved, twice have I cast thee into death-risk!” but he rejoined, “No harm in that, O my lady,
When it was the Five Hundred and Ninety-second Night,[FN#231]
Shahrazad began to relate the adventures of
Khudadad[FN#232] and his brothers.
Said she, O auspicious King, this my tale relateth to the Kingdom of Diyar Bakr[FN#233] in whose capital-city of Harran[FN#234] dwelt a Sultan of illustrious lineage, a protector of the people, a lover of his lieges, a friend of mankind and renowned for being gifted with every good quality. Now Allah Almighty had bestowed upon him all that his heart could desire, save boon of child, for though he had lovely wives within his Harem-door and fair concubines galore, he had been not blessed with a son; wherefor he offered up incessant worship to the Creator. One night there appeared to him in a dream a man of comely visage and holy of semblance like unto a prophet, who addressed him, saying, “O puissant King, thy vows are at length heard. Arise to-morrow at day-dawn, pray a two-bow prayer and offer up thy petitions; then haste thee to the Chief Gardener of thy palace and require of him a pomegranate whereof do thou eat as many seeds as seemeth best to thee; after which perform another two-bow prayer, and Allah will shower favours and graces upon thy head.” The King, awaking at peep of day, called to mind the vision of the night, and returning thanks to the Almighty, made his orisons and kneeling invoked a benedicite. Then he rose and repaired to the garth, and receiving a pomegranate from the Head-Gardener, counted out and ate fifty
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Khudadad replied to his mother Firuzah, “Indeed I am unable to brook delay; moreover such longing have I in heart to look upon the Sultan, my sire, that an I go not and visit him and kiss his feet I shall assuredly die. I will enter his employ as a stranger and all unknown to him, nor will I inform him that I am his son; but I shall be to him as a foreigner or as one of his hired knaves, and with such devotion will I do him suit and service that, when he learneth that I am indeed his child, he may grant me his favour and affection.” Prince Samir also would not suffer him to depart and forbade him therefrom; but one day of the days the Prince suddenly set out from Samaria under pretext that he was about to hunt and chase. He mounted a milk-white steed, whose reins and stirrups were of gold and the saddle and housings were of azure satin dubbed with jewels and fringed with pendants of fresh pearls. His scymitar was hilted with a single diamond, the scabbard of chaunders-wood was crested with rubies and emeralds and it depended from a gemmed waist-belt; while his bow and richly wrought quiver hung by his side. Thus equipped and escorted by his friends and familiars he presently arrived at Harran-city after the fairest fashion; and, when occasion offered itself, he made act of presence before the King and did his obeisance at Darbar. The Sultan, remarking his beauty and comeliness, or haply by reason of an outburst of natural affection, was pleased to return his salam; and, graciously calling him to his side, asked of him his name and pedigree, whereto Khudadad answered, “O my liege, I am the son of an Emir of Cairo. A longing for travel hath made me quit my native place and wander from clime to clime till at length I have come hither; and, hearing that thou hast matters of importance in hand, I am desirous of approving to thee my valiancy.” The King joyed with exceeding joy to hear this stout and doughty speech, and forthwith gave him a post of command in his army; and Khudadad by careful supervision of the troops soon won the esteem of his officers
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the forty-and-nine brothers agreed to hold this plan wisest and, presently going together to Khudadad, asked leave of him to ride about the country awhile or fare to the chase, promising they would return by set of sun. He fell into the snare and allowed them to go; whereupon they sallied forth a-hunting but did not come back that day or the next. On the third morning the King who missed them asked Khudadad
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the sounds from that secret place seemed to issue from under ground or from the depths of a draw-well. But when the Prince opened the dungeon door, he espied a steep staircase and descending thereby found himself in a deep pit, narrow and darksome, wherein were penned more than an hundred persons with elbows pinioned and members chained; nor saw he aught of light save through one bull’s-eye. So he cried to them, “O ye unfortunates, fear ye no more! I have slain the Abyssinian; and render ye praise to Allah Almighty who hath rid you of your wrong-doer: also I come to strike off your fetters and return you to freedom.” Hearing these glad tidings the prisoners were in raptures of delight and raised a general cry of joy and jubilee. Hereupon Khudadad and the lady began to loose their hands and feet; and each, as he was released from his durance, helped to unchain his fellows: brief, after a moment of time all were delivered from their bonds and bondage. Then each and every kissed Khudadad’s feet and gave thanks and prayed for his welfare; and when those whilom prisoners entered the court-yard whereupon the sun was shining sheen, Khudadad recognised amongst them his brothers, in quest of whom he had so long wandered. He was amazed with exceeding amazement and exclaimed, “Laud be to the Lord, that I have found you one and all safe and sound: your father is sorely sad and sorrowful at your absence; and Heaven forfend that this devil hath devoured any from amongst you.” He then counted their number, forty-and-nine, and set them apart from the rest; and all in excess of joy fell upon one another’s necks and ceased
History of the Princess of Daryabar.[FN#238]
In an island of the islands standeth a great city called Daryabar, wherein dwelt a king of exalted degree. But despite his virtue and his valour he was ever sad and sorrowful having naught of offspring, and he offered up without surcease prayers on that behalf. After long years and longsome supplications a half boon was granted to him; to wit, a daughter (myself) was born. My father who grieved sore at first presently rejoiced with joy exceeding at the unfortunate ill-fated birth of me; and, when I came of age to learn, he bade me be taught to read and write; and caused me to be instructed in court-ceremonial and royal duties and the chronicles of the past, to the intent that I might succeed him as heiress to his throne and his kingship. Now it happened one day that my sire rode out a-hunting and gave chase to a wild ass[FN#239] with such hot pursuit that he found himself at eventide separated from his suite; so, wearied with the chase, he dismounted from his steed and seating himself by the side of a forest-path, he said to himself “The onager will doubtless seek cover in this copse.” Suddenly he espied a light shining bright amidst the trees and, thinking that a hamlet might be hard by, he was minded to night there and at day-dawn to determine his further course. Hereupon he arose and walking towards the light he found that it issued from a lonely hut in the forest; then peering into the inside he espied an Abyssinian burly of bulk and in semblance like unto a Satan, seated upon a divan. Before him were ranged many capacious jars full of wine and over a fire of charcoal he was roasting a bullock whole and eating the flesh and ever and anon drinking deep draughts from one of the pitchers. Furthermore the King sighted in that hut a lady of exquisite beauty and comeliness sitting in a corner direly distressed: her hands were fast bound with cords, and at her feet a child of two or three years of age lay beweeping his mother’s sorry plight.—And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that seeing the doleful state of these twain, my sire was filled with ruth and longed to fall upon the ogre sword in hand; however, not being able to cope with him he restrained his wrath and remained on stealthy watch. The giant having drained all the pitchers of wine and devoured half of the barbacued bullock presently addressed himself to the lady and said, “O loveliest of Princesses, how long wilt thou prove thee coy and keep aloof from me? Dost thou not see how desirous I am of winning thy heart and how I am dying for the love of thee? ’Tis therefore only right that thou also shouldst return my affection and know me as thine own, when I will become to thee the kindest of mankind.” “O thou Ghul of the waste,” cried the lady, “what be this whereof thou pratest? Never; no, never shalt thou win thy wish of me, however
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that, the lady continued:—On this wise the wedding was deferred, and this delay became a matter of sore displeasure to the young man, who thought in his heart that my father was his foe. Therefore he ever strove to lure him into his power till one day in a frenzy of rage he slew him and proclaimed himself King of Daryabar. Moreover the murtherer would have entered my chamber to kill me also had not the Wazir, a true and faithful servant of the crown, at the tidings of his liege lord’s death speedily taken me away, and hidden me in the house of a friend where he bade me remain concealed. Two days afterwards, having fitted out a ship, he embarked me therein with a Kahramanah—an old duenna—and set sail for a country whose King was of my father’s friends, to the intent that he might consign me to his charge, and obtain from him the aid of an army wherewith he might avenge himself upon the ungrateful and ungracious youth who had proved himself a traitor to the salt.[FN#242] But a few days after our weighing anchor a furious storm began to blow making the captain and crew sore confounded and presently the waves beat upon the vessel with such exceeding violence that she brake up, and the Wazir and the duenna and all who were therein (save myself) were drowned in the billows. But I, albeit well nigh a-swoon, clung to a plank and was shortly after washed ashore by
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-eighth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princess of Daryabar continued:—Presently, calling to remembrance the murther of my father I cried aloud with an exceeding bitter cry and was sore afraid at my lonesome plight, insomuch that I would fain have cast myself again into the sea, when suddenly the voice of man and tramp of horse-hooves fell upon my ears. Then looking about I descried a band of cavaliers in the midst of whom was a handsome prince: he was mounted upon a steed of purest Rabite[FN#243] blood and was habited in a gold-embroidered surcoat; a girdle studded with diamonds girt his loins and on his head was a crown of gold; in fine it was evident from his garb as from his aspect that he was a born ruler of mankind. Thereupon, seeing me all alone on the sea-shore, the knights marvelled with exceeding marvel; then the Prince detached one of his captains to ascertain my history and acquaint him there-with; but albeit the officer plied me with questions I answered him not a word and shed a flood of tears in the deepest silence. So noting the waifage on the sand they thought to themselves, “Perchance some vessel hath been wrecked upon this shore and its planks and timber have been cast upon the land, and doubtless this lady was in that ship and hath been floated ashore on some plank.” Whereupon the cavaliers crowded around me and implored me to relate unto them what had befallen me; nevertheless I still answered them not a word. Presently the Prince himself drew near to me and, much amazed, sent away his suite from about me and addressed me in these words, “O my lady, fear naught of ill from me nor distress thyself by needless affright. I would convey thee to my home and under my mother’s care; wherefore I am curious to know of thee who thou art. The Queen will assuredly befriend thee and keep thee in comfort and happiness.” And now understanding that his heart was drawn towards me, I told him all that had betided me, and he on hearing the story of my sad destiny became moved with the deepest emotion and his eyes brimmed with tears. Then he comforted me and carried me with him and committed me to the Queen his mother, who also lent kindly ear to my tale of the past, first and last, and hearing it she also was greatly grieved, and wearied not day or night in tending me and (as far as in her lay) striving to make me happy. Seeing, moreover, that her son was deeply enamoured of me and love-distraught she
The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-ninth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princess of Daryabar continued:—At once unsheathing his huge sword the Habashi made for the pirate and ordered him to surrender himself prisoner, with me and all his slaves, and with pinioned elbows to accompany him. Hereat the robber with hot courage and heading his followers rushed fiercely on the Abyssinian, and for a long time the fight raged thick and fast, till he and his lay dead upon the field; whereupon the Abyssinian led off the camels and carried me and the pirate’s corpse to this castle, and devoured the flesh of his foe at his evening meal. Then turning to me as I wept with bitter weeping he said, “Banish from thy breast this woe and this angry mood; and abide in this castle at perfect ease and in comfort, and solace thyself with my embraces. However, since thou appearest at this present to be in dire distress, I will excuse thee for to-night, but without fail I shall require thee of thyself on the morrow.” He then led me into a separate chamber and locking fast the gates and doors, fell asleep alone in another place. Arising early on the next morning he searched the castle round about, unlocked the wicket which he closed again and sallied forth, according to his custom, in quest of wayfarers. But the caravan escaped him and anon he returned empty-handed when thou didst set upon him and slay him.” On this wise the Princess of Daryabar related her history to Prince Khudadad who was moved with ruth for her: then comforting her he said, “Henceforth fear naught nor be on any wise dismayed. These princes are the sons of the King of Harran; and if it please thee, let them lead thee to his court and stablish thee in comfort and luxury: the King also will guard thee from all evil. Or, shouldest thou be loath to fare with them, wilt thou not consent to take for spouse him who hath rescued thee from so great calamity?” The Princess of Daryabar consented to wed with him and forthwith the marriage was celebrated with grand display in the castle and here they found meats and drinks of sundry sorts, and delicious fruits and fine wines wherewith the cannibal would regale himself when a-weary of man’s flesh. So Khudadad made ready dishes of every colour and feasted his brothers. Next day taking with them such provaunt as was at hand, all set forth for Harran, and at the close of each stage they chose a suitable stead for nighting; and, when but one day’s journey lay before them, the Princes supped that night off what was left to them of their viaticum and drained all the wine that remained. But when the drink had mastered their wits, Khudadad thus addressed his brothers, saying, “Hitherto have I withheld from you the secret of my birth, which now I must disclose. Know ye then that I am your brother, for I also am a son of the King of Harran, whom the Lord of Samaria-land brought up and bade educate; and lastly, my mother is the Princess Firuzah.” Then to the Princess of Daryabar, “Thou didst not recognize my rank
The end of the full Six Hundredth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that, the Princess, deeming her bridegroom dead, wept at this sight right sore; and, calling to mind his youth and beauty, his valour and his many virtues, she washed his face with her tears and exclaimed, “Well-away and woe is me, O my lover, O Khudadad, do these eyes look upon thee in sudden and violent death? Are these thy brothers (the devils!) whom thy courage hath saved, the destroyers of thee?
The end of the Six Hundred and First Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that when her husband enquired of Queen Firuzah why and wherefore she wept and wailed, and moaned and groaned, she told him all she had heard from the leech, and her husband was filled with hot wrath against his sons. So he rose up and went straightway to the audience-chamber, where the townsfolk had gathered together to petition him and to pray for justice and redress; and they, seeing his features working with rage, were all sore afraid. Presently the Sultan seated himself on the throne of his kingship and gave an order to his Grand Wazir, saying, “O Wazir Hasan, take with thee a thousand men of the guard which keepeth watch and ward over the palace and do thou bring hither the forty-and-nine Princes, my unworthy sons, and cast them into the prison appointed unto man-slayers and murtherers; and have a heed that none of them escape.” The Wazir did as he was bidden, and seizing the Princes one and all cast them into gaol with the murtherers and other criminals, then reported his action to his liege lord. Hereat the Sultan dismissed sundry claimants and suppliants, saying, “For the space of one full-told month henceforth it besitteth me not to sit in the justice-hall. Depart hence, and, when the thirty days shall have passed away, do ye return hither again.” After this rising from the throne he took with him the Wazir Hasan, and entering the apartment of Queen Firuzah, gave command to the Minister that he bring in all haste and with royal state and dignity from the caravanserai, the Princess of Daryabar and the mediciner. The Wazir straightway took horse accompanied by the Emirs and soldiers; and, leading a fine white she-mule richly adorned with jewelled trappings from out of the royal stables, he rode to the caravanserai wherein abode the Princess of Daryabar. Having told her all that the King had done, he seated her upon the animal and, mounting the surgeon upon a steed of Turcoman[FN#247] blood, all three proceeded with pomp and grandeur to the palace. The shop-keepers and townsfolk ran out to greet the lady as the cavalcade wound its way through the streets; and, when they heard say that she was the wife of Prince Khudadad, they rejoiced with exceeding joy for that they should now receive tidings of his whereabouts. As soon as the procession reached the palace gates the Princess of Daryabar saw the Sultan, who had come forth to greet her, and she alighted from the mule and kissed his feet. The King then raised her by the hand and conducted her to the chamber wherein sat Queen Firuzah awaiting her visit, and all three fell on one another’s necks and wept sore and could on no wise control their grief. But whenas their sorrow was somewhat assuaged, the Princess of Daryabar said to the King, “O my lord the Sultan, I would proffer humble petition that full vengeance may fall upon those, one and all, by whom my husband hath been
The end of the Six Hundred and Second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Sultan commanded congregational prayers in all the mosques for a full told week and he ceased not to mourn and weep and wail before the cenotaph of his son for eight days. And as soon as this term was passed he commanded the Grand Wazir that vengeance be meted out for the murther of Prince Khudadad, and that the Princes be brought out from their dungeons and be done to death. The tidings were bruited about the city, and preparations were made for executing the assassins and crowds of folk collected to gaze upon the scaffold, when suddenly came a report that an enemy whom the King had routed in bygone times was marching upon the city with a conquering army. Hereat the Sultan was sore troubled and perplexed and the ministers of state said one to other, “Alas! had Prince Khudadad been on life he would forthwith have put to flight the forces of the foe however fierce and fell.” Natheless the Sovran set out from the city with his suite and host, and eke he made ready for flight to some other land by way of the river should the enemy’s force prove victorious. Then the two powers met in deadly combat; and the invader, surrounding the King of Harran’s many on every side, would have cut him to pieces with all his warriors, when behold, an armed force hitherto unseen rode athwart the plain at a pace so swift and so sure that the two hostile Kings gazed upon them in uttermost amazement, nor wist any one whence that host came. But when it drew near, the horsemen charged home on the enemies and in the twinkling of an eye put them to flight; then hotly pursuing felled them with the biting sword and the piercing spear. Seeing this onslaught the King of Harran marvelled greatly and rendering thanks to heaven said to those around him, “Learn ye the name of the Captain of yonder host, who he may be and whence came he.” But when all the foemen had fallen upon the field save only a few who escaped hither and thither and the hostile sultan who had been taken prisoner, the Captain of the friendly forces returned from pursuit well pleased to greet the King. And, lo and behold!
The end of the Six Hundred and Third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that after this the King and his Queen and daughter-in-law sat long conversing, and they marvelled much how Khudadad, albeit he was sorely gashed and pierced with the sword, had escaped alive from that wildest of wolds, whereupon the Prince at the bidding of his sire told his tale in these words: “A peasant mounted on a camel chanced to pass by my pavilion and seeing me sore wounded and weltering in my blood, set me upon his beast and conveyed me to his house; then, choosing
The end of the Six Hundred and Fourth Night,
When she began to relate the History of
The Caliph’s night adventure.
I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Caliph Harun al-Rashid was one night wakeful exceedingly and when he rose in the morning restlessness gat hold of him. Wherefore all about him were troubled for that “Folk aye follow Prince’s fashion;” they rejoice exceedingly with his joy and are sorrowful with his sorrows albeit they know not the cause why they are so affected. Presently the Commander of the Faithful sent for Masrur the Eunuch, and when he came to him cried, “Fetch me my Wazir, Ja’afar the Barmaki, without stay or delay.” Accordingly, he went out and returned with the Minister who, finding him alone, which was indeed rare, and seeing as he drew near that he was in a melancholic humour, never even raising his eyes, stopped till his lord would vouchsafe to look upon him. At last the Prince of True Believers cast his glance upon Ja’afar, but forthright turned away his head and sat motionless as before. The Wazir descrying naught in the Caliph’s aspect that concerned him personally, strengthened his purpose and bespake him on this wise, “O Commander of the Faithful, wilt thine Highness deign suffer me to ask whence cometh this sadness?” and the Caliph answered with a clearer brow, “Verily, O Wazir, these moods have of late become troublesome to me, nor are they to be moved save by hearing strange tales and verses; and, if thou come not hither on a pressing affair, thou wilt gladden me by relating somewhat to dispel my sadness.” Replied the Wazir, “O Commander of the Faithful, my office compelleth me to stand on thy service, and I would fain remind thee that this is the day appointed for informing thyself of the good governance of thy capital and its environs, and this matter shall, Inshallah, divert thy mind and dispel its gloom.” The Caliph answered, “Thou dost well to remind me, for that I had wholly forgotten it; so fare forth and change thy vestments while I do the same with mine.” Presently the twain donned habits of stranger merchants and issued out by a private postern of the palace-garden, which led them into the fields. After they had skirted the city, they reached the Euphrates’ bank at some distance from the gate opening on that side, without having observed aught of disorder; then they crossed the river in the first ferry-boat they found, and, making a second round on the further side, they passed over the bridge that joined the two halves of Baghdad-town. At the bridge-foot they met with a blind old man who asked alms of them; and the Caliph turned about and crossed his palm with a diner, whereupon the beggar caught hold of his hand, and held him fast, saying, “O beneficent man, whoso thou ever may be, whom Allah hath inspired to bestow an alms upon me, refuse not the favour I crave of thee, which is, to strike me a buffet upon the ear, for that I deserve such punishment and a greater still.” After these words he quitted his hold of the Caliph’s hand that it might smite him, yet for fear lest the stranger pass on without so doing he grasped him fast by his long robe. And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Caliph, surprised by the blind man’s words and deeds said, “I may not grant thy request nor will I minish the merit of my charity, by treating thee as thou wouldst have me entreat thee.” Saying these words, he strove to get away from the blind man, but he who after his long experience expected this refusal of his benefactor, did his utmost to keep hold of him, and cried, “O my lord, forgive my audacity and my persistency; and I implore thee either give me a cuff on the ear, or take back thine alms, for I may not receive it save on that condition, without falsing a solemn oath I have sworn before the face of Allah; and, if thou knew the reason, thou wouldst accord with me that the penalty is light indeed.” Then the Caliph not caring to be delayed any longer, yielded to the blind man’s importunity, and gave him a slight cuff: whereupon he loosed him forthright and thanked him and blessed him. When the Caliph and his Wazir, had walked some way from the blind man, the former exclaimed, “This blind beggar must assuredly have some right good cause for behaving himself in such manner to all who give him alms, and I would fain know it. Do thou return to him and tell him who I am, and bid him fail not to appear at my palace about mid-afternoon prayer time that I may converse with him, and hear whatso he hath to say.” Hereupon Ja’afar went back and bestowed alms on the blind man giving him another cuff on the ear and apprised him of the Caliph’s command, and returned forthright to his lord. Presently, when the twain reached the town, they found in a square a vast crowd of folk gazing at a handsome youth and a well shaped, who was mounted on a mare which he rode at fullest speed round the open space, spurring and whipping the beast so cruelly that she was covered with sweat and blood. Seeing this the Caliph, amazed at the youth’s brutality, stopped to ask the by-standers an they knew why he tortured and tormented the mare on such wise; but he could learn naught save that for some while past, every day at the same time, he had entreated her after the same fashion. Hereat as they walked along, the Caliph bid his Wazir especially notice the place and order the young man to come without failing on the next day, at the hour appointed for the blind man. But ere the Caliph reached his palace, he saw in a street, which he had not passed through for many months, a newly built mansion, which seemed to him the palace of some great lord of the land. He asked the Wazir, an he knew its owner; and Ja’afar answered he did not but would make inquiry. So he consulted a neighbour who told him that the house owner was one Khwajah Hasan surnamed Al-Habbal from his handicraft, rope-making; that he himself had seen the man at work in the days of his poverty, that he knew not how Fate and Fortune had befriended him, yet that the same Khwajah had gotten such exceeding
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Baba Abdullah terrified by these words, cast himself a second time at the Caliph’s feet with his face prone to the ground, and when he rose again, said, “O Commander of the Faithful, I crave pardon of thy Highness for my audacity, in that I dared require, and well nigh compelled thee to do a thing which verily seemeth contrary to sound sense. I acknowledge mine offence; but as I knew not thy Highness at that time, I implore thy clemency, and I pray thou wilt consider my ignorance of thine exalted degree. And now as to the extravagance of my action, I readily admit that it must be strange to the sons of Adam; but in the eye of Allah ’tis but a slight penance wherewith I have charged myself for an enormous crime of which I am guilty, and wherefor, an all the people in the world were each and every to give me a cuff on the ear ’twould not be sufficient atonement. Thy Highness shall judge of it thyself, when I, in telling my tale according to thy commandment, will inform thee of what was my offence.” And here he began to relate
The Story of the Blind Man, Baba Abdullah.[FN#252]
O my lord the Caliph, I, the humblest of thy slaves, was born in Baghdad, where my father and mother, presently dying within a few days of each other, left me a fortune large enough to last me throughout my lifetime. But I knew not its value and soon I had squandered it in luxury and loose living and I cared naught for thrift or for increasing my store. But when little was left to me of my substance, I repented of my evil courses and toiled and laboured hard by day and night to increase my remaining stock of money. It is truly said, “After waste cometh knowledge of worth.” Thus little by little I got together fourscore camels, which I let on hire to merchants, and thus I made goodly gain each time I found occasion: moreover I was wont to engage myself together with my beasts and on this wise I journeyed over all the dominions and domains of thy Highness. Brief, I hoped ere long to reap an abundant crop of gold by the hiring out of my baggage animals.—And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventh Night.
Then said she: I have heard, O auspicious King, that Baba Abdullah continued his tale in these words: Once I had carried merchants’ stuffs to Bassorah for shipping India-wards and I was returning to Baghdad with my beasts unladen. Now as I fared homewards I chanced pass across a plain of excellent pasturage lying fallow and far from any village, and there unsaddled the camels which I hobbled and tethered together that they might crop the luxuriant herbs and thorns and yet not fare astray. Presently appeared a Darwaysh who was travelling afoot for Bassorah, and he took seat beside me to enjoy ease after unease; whereat I asked him whence he wayfared and whither he was wending. He also asked me the same question and when we had told each to other our own tales, we produced our provisions and brake our fast together, talking of various matters as we ate. Quoth the Darwaysh, “I know a spot hard by which enholdeth a hoard and its wealth is so wonder-great that shouldst thou load upon thy fourscore camels the heaviest burthens of golden coins and costly gems from that treasure there will appear no minishing thereof.” Hearing these words I rejoiced with exceeding joy and gathering from his mien and demeanour that he did not deceive me, I arose forthright and falling upon his neck, exclaimed, “O Hallow of Allah, who caress naught for this world’s goods and hast renounced all mundane lusts and luxuries, assuredly thou hast full knowledge of this treasure, for naught remaineth hidden from holy men as thou art. I pray thee tell me where it may be found that I may load my fourscore beasts with bales of Ashrafis and jewels: I wot full well that thou hast no greed for the wealth of this world, but take, I pray thee, one of these my fourscore camels as recompense and reward for the favour.” Thus spake I with my tongue but in my heart I sorely grieved to think
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the blind man Baba Abdullah pursued his tale on this wise:—I did as the Darwaysh had bidden me; and, nakhing[FN#254] all the camels, I followed in wake of him. After walking a short way from the halting-place he produced a flint and steel and struck fire therewith and lit some sticks he had gotten together; then, throwing a handful of strong-smelling incense upon the flames, he muttered words of incantation which I could by no means understand. At once a cloud of smoke arose, and spireing upwards veiled the mountains; and presently, the vapour clearing away, we saw a huge rock with pathway leading to its perpendicular face. Here the precipice showed an open door, wherethrough appeared in the bowels of the mountain a splendid palace, the workmanship of the Jinns, for no man had power to build aught like it. In due time, after sore toil, we entered therein and found an endless treasure, ranged in mounds with the utmost ordinance and regularity. Seeing a heap of Ashrafis I pounced upon it as a vulture
The end of the Six Hundred and Ninth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Baba Abdullah continued his tale in these words:—So when I had again farewelled and embraced him I paused awhile and said, “What wilt thou do with the little box of salve thou hast taken to thy portion? I pray thee give me that also.” The Fakir would by no means part with it, whereupon I lusted the more to possess it, and resolved in my mind that, should the holy man give it up of his free will, then well and good, but if not I would force it from him. Seeing my intent he drew the box from out his breast-pocket[FN#256] and handed it to me saying, “O my son, an thou wouldst have this box of ointment, then freely do I give it to thee; but first it behoveth thee to learn the virtue of the unguent it containeth.” Hearing these words I said, “Forasmuch as thou hast shown me all this favour, I beseech thee tell me of this ointment and what of properties it possesseth.” Quoth he, “The wonders of this ointment are passing strange and rare. An thou close thy left eye and rub upon the lid the smallest bit of the salve then all the treasures of the world now concealed from thy gaze will come to sight; but an thou rub aught thereof upon thy right eye thou shalt straightway become stone blind of both.” Thereat I bethought me of putting this wondrous unguent to the test and placing in his hand the box I said, “I see thou understandest this matter right well; so now I pray thee apply somewhat of the ointment with thine own hand to my left eyelid.” The Darwaysh thereupon closed my left eye and with his finger rubbed a little of the unguent over the lid; and when I opened it and looked around I saw the hidden hoards of the earth in countless quantities even as
The end of the Six Hundred and Tenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Baba Abdullah the blind man resumed his story, saying:—So when the Darwaysh departed from me, I had well nigh died of grief and wrath at the loss of my sight and of my riches, and from the pangs of thirst[FN#257] and hunger. Next day by good fortune a caravan from Bassorah passed that way; and, seeing me in such a grievous condition, the merchants had compassion on me and made me travel with them to Baghdad. Naught could I do save beg my bread in order to keep myself alive; so I became a mendicant and made this vow to Allah Almighty that, as a punishment for this my unlucky greed and cursed covetise, I would require a cuff upon my ear from everyone who might take pity on my case and give an alms. On this wise it was that yesterday I pursued thee with such pertinacity.—When the blind man made an end of his story the Caliph said, “O Baba Abdullah! thine offence was grievous; may Allah have mercy on thee therefor. It now remaineth to thee to tell thy case to devotees and anchorites that they may offer up their potent prayers in thy behalf. Take no thought for thy daily wants: I have determined that for thy living thou shalt have a dole of four dirhams a day from my royal treasury according to thy need as long as thou mayest live. But see that thou go no more to ask for alms about my city.” So Baba Abdullah returned thanks to the Prince of True Believers, saying, “I will do according to thy bidding.” Now when the Caliph Harun al-Rashid had heard the story of Baba Abdullah and the Darwaysh, he turned to and addressed the young man whom he had seen riding at fullest speed upon the mare and savagely lashing and ill-treating her. “What is thy name?” quoth he, and quoth the youth, bowing his brow groundwards, “My name, O Commander of the Faithful, is Sidi Nu’uman."[FN#258]
The end of The Six Hundred and Eleventh Night.
Then said she: I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Caliph Harun al-Rashid accorded the youth permission to speak and that the rider of the mare began in these words the
History of Sidi Nu’uman.
O Lord of beneficence and benevolence, my parents were possessed of wealth and riches sufficient to provide their son when they died with ample means for a life long livelihood so that he might pass his days like a Grandee of the land in ease and joyance and delight. I—their only child—had nor care nor trouble about any matter until one day of the days, when in the prime of manhood, I was a minded to take unto me a wife, a woman winsome and comely to look upon, that we might live together in mutual love and double blessedness. But Allah Almighty willed not that a model helpmate become mine; nay, Destiny wedded me to grief and the direst misery. I married a maid who in outward form and features was a model of beauty and loveliness without, however, one single gracious gift of mind or soul; and on the very second day after the wedding her evil nature began to manifest itself. Thou art well aware, O Prince of True Believers, that by Moslem custom none may look upon the face of his betrothed before the marriage contract? nor after wedlock can he complain should his bride prove a shrew or a fright: he must needs dwell with her in such content as he may and be thankful for his fate, be it fair or unfair. When I saw first the face of my bride and learnt that it was passing comely, I joyed with exceeding joy and gave thanks to Almighty Allah that He had bestowed on me so charming a mate. That night I slept with her in joy and love-delight; but next day when the noon meal was spread for me and her I found her not at table and sent to summon her; and after some delay, she came and sat her down. I dissembled my annoyance and forbore for this late coming to find fault with her which I soon had ample reason to do. It so happened that amongst the many dishes which were served up to us was a fine pilaff,[FN#259] of which I, according to the custom in our city, began to eat with a spoon; but she, in lieu of it pulled out an ear pick from her pocket and therewith fell to picking up the rice and ate it grain by grain. Seeing this strange conduct I was sore amazed and fuming inwardly said in sweet tones, “O my Aminah,[FN#260] what be this way of eating? hast thou learnt it of thy people or art thou counting grains of rice purposing to make a hearty meal here after? Thou hast eaten but ten or twenty during all this time. Or haply thou art practicing thrift: if so I would have thee know that Allah Almighty hath given me abundant store and fear not on that account; but do thou, O my dearling, as all do and eat as thou seest thy husband eat.” I fondly thought that she would assuredly vouchsafe some words of thanks, but never a syllable spake she and ceased not picking up grain after grain: nay more, in order to provoke me to greater displeasure, she paused for a long time between each. Now when the next course of cakes came on she idly brake some bread and tossed a crumb or two into her mouth; in fact she ate less than would satisfy the stomach of a sparrow. I marvelled much to see her so
The end of the Six Hundred and Twelfth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Sidi Nu’uman continued his story saying:—But when I beheld Aminah my bride enter the cemetery, I stood without and close to the wall over which I peered so that I could espy her well but she could not discover me. Then what did I behold but Aminah sitting with a Ghul![FN#262] Thy Highness wotteth well that Ghuls be of the race of devils; to wit, they are unclean spirits which inhabit ruins and which terrify solitary wayfarers and at times seizing them feed upon their flesh; and if by day they find not any traveller to eat they go by night to the graveyards and dig out and devour dead bodies. So I was sore amazed and terrified to see my wife thus seated with a Ghul. Then the twain dug up from the grave a corpse which had been newly buried, and the Ghul and my wife Aminah tore off pieces of the flesh which she ate making merry the while and chatting with her companion but inasmuch as I stood at some distance I could not hear what it was they said. At this sight I trembled with exceeding fear. And when they had made an end of eating they cast the bones into the pit and thereover heaped up the earth e’en as it was before. Leaving them thus engaged in their foul and fulsome work, I hastened home; and, allowing the street-door to remain half-open as my bride had done, I reached
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirteenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Sidi Nu’uman continued his story as follows—The shopkeeper, despite his scruples of conscience, which caused him to hold all dogs impure,[FN#265] hath ruth upon my sorry plight and drove away the yelling and grinning curs that would have followed me into his shop; and I, escaping this danger of doom, passed all the night hid in my corner. Early next morning the butcher sallied forth to buy his usual wares, sheeps’ heads and hooves, and, coming back with a large supply, he began to lay them out for sale within the shop, when I, seeing that a whole pack of dogs had gathered about the place attracted by the smell of flesh, also joined them. The owner noticed me among the ragged tykes and said to himself, “This dog hath tasted naught since yesterday when it ran yelping hungrily and hid within my shop.” He then threw me a fair sized piece of meat, but I refused it and went up to him and wagged my tail to the end that he might know my wish to stay with him and be protected by his stall: he, however, thought that I had eaten my sufficiency, and, picking up a staff frightened me away. So when I saw how the butcher heeded not my case, I trotted off and wandering to and fro presently came to a bakery and stood before the door wherethrough I espied the baker at breakfast. Albeit I made no sign as though I wanted aught of food, he threw me a bittock of bread; and I, in lieu of snapping it up and greedily swallowing it, as is the fashion with all dogs the gentle and simple of them, approached him with it and gazed in his face and wagged my tail by way of thanks. He was pleased by this my well bred behaviour and smiled at me; whereat I albeit not one whit anhungered, but merely to humour him, fell to eating the bread, little by little and leisurely, to testify my respect. He was yet more satisfied with my manners and wished to keep me in his shop; and I, noting his intent, sat by the door and looked wistfully at him, whereby he knew that I desired naught of him save his protection. He then caressed me and took charge of me and kept me to guard his store, but I would not enter his house till after he had led the way; he also showed me where to lie o’nights and fed me well at every meal and entreated me right hospitably. I likewise would watch his every movement and always lay down or rose up even as he bade me; and whenas he left his lodging or walked anywhither he took me with him. If ever when I lay asleep he went outside and found me not, he would stand still in the street and call to me crying, “Bakht!’ Bakht!’’[FN#266] an auspicious name he had given to me; and straightway on hearing him I would rush about and frisk before the door; and when he set out to taste the air I paced beside him now running on ahead, now following at his heels and ever and anon looking up in his face. Thus some time passed during which I lived with him
The end of the Six Hundred and Fourteenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Sidi Nu’uman continued his story saying:—From that day forwards the baker honoured me yet more highly, and all his friends and familiars laughed and said, “Forsooth thou hast in this dog a mighty good Shroff."[FN#267] And some envied my master his luck in having me within the shop, and tried ofttimes to entice me away, but the baker kept me with him nor would he ever allow me to leave his side; for the fame of me brought him a host of customers from every quarter of the town even the farthest. Not many days after there came another woman to buy loaves at our shop and paid the baker six dirhams whereof one was worthless. My master passed them over to me for test and trial, and straightway I picked out the false one, and placing paw thereon looked up in the woman’s face. Hereat she waxed confused and confessed that it was miscoined and praised me for that I had found it out; then, going forth the same woman made signs to me that I should follow her unbeknown to the baker.
The end of the Six Hudred and Fifteenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Sidi Nu’uman continued his story saying:—When I had secured the mare, I loaded her with reproaches for her wickedness and her base behaviour, and lashed her with a whip till my forearm was tired.[FN#270] Then I resolved within myself that I would ride her at full speed round the square each day and thus inflict upon her the justest penalty.—Herewith Sidi Nu’uman held
History of Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal.[FN#272]
O Lord of beneficence! obedient to thy royal behest, I will now inform thy Highness of the means and the measures whereby Destiny cowered me with such wealth; but first I would thou hear somewhat of two amongst my friends who abode in the House of Peace, Baghdad. They twain are yet alive and both well know the history which thy slave shall now relate. One of them, men call Sa’d, the other Sa’di.[FN#273] Now Sa’di opined that without riches no one in this world could be happy and independent; moreover that without hard toil and trouble and wariness and wisdom withal it were impossible to become wealthy. But Sa’d differing therefrom would affirm that affluence cometh not to any save by decree of Destiny and fiat of Fate and Fortune. Sa’d was a poor man while Sa’di had great store of good; yet there sprang up a firm friendship between them and fond affection each for other; nor were they ever wont to differ upon any matter save only upon this; to wit, that Sa’di relied solely upon deliberation and forethought and Sa’d upon doom and man’s lot. It chanced one day that, as they sat talking together on this matter, quoth Sa’di, “A poor man is he who either is born a pauper and passeth all his days in want and penury, or he who having been born to wealth and comfort, doth in the time of manhood squander all he hath and falleth into grievous need; then lacketh he the power to regain his riches and to live at ease by wit and industry.” Sa’d made answer, saying, “Nor wit nor industry availeth aught to any one, but Fate alone enableth him to acquire and to preserve riches. Misery and want are but accidents and deliberation is naught. Full many a poor man hath waxed affluent by favour of Fate and richards manifold have, despite their skill and store, been reduced to misery and beggary.” Quoth Sa’di, “Thou speakest foolishly. Howbeit put we the matter to fair test and find out for ourselves some handicraftsman scanty of means and living upon his daily wage; him let us provide with money, then will he without a doubt increase his stock and abide in ease and comfort, and so shalt thou be persuaded that my words be true.” Now as they twain were walking on, they passed through the lane wherein stood my lodging and saw me a twisting ropes, which craft my father and grandfather and many generations before me had followed. By the condition of my home and dress they judged that I was a needy man; where upon Sa’d pointing me out to Sa’di said, “An thou wouldst make trial of this our matter of dispute, see yonder wight. He hath dwelt here for many years and by this trade of rope making cloth gain a bare subsistence for himself and his. I know his case right well of old; he is a worthy subject for the trial; so do thou give him some gold pieces and test the matter.” “Right willingly,” replied Sa’di, “but first let us take full cognizance of him.” So the two friends came up to me, whereat I left my work and saluted them. They returned my salam after which quoth Sa’di, “Prithee what be thy name?” Quoth I, “My name is Hasan, but by reason of my trade of rope making all men call me Hasan al-Habbal.”—And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixteenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal (the Rope-maker) continued his story, saying.—Thereupon Sa’di asked me, “How farest thou by this industry? Me thinks thou art blithe and quite content therewith. Thou hast worked long and well and doubtless thou hast laid by large store of hemp and other stock. Thy forbears carried on this craft for many years and must have left thee much of capital and property which thou hast turned to good account and on this wise thou hast largely increased thy wealth.” Quoth I, “O my lord, no money have I in pouch whereby I may live happy or even buy me enough to eat. This is my case that every day, from dawn till eve I spend in making ropes, nor have I one single moment wherein to take rest; and still I am sore straitened to provide even dry bread for myself and family. A wife have I and five small children, who are yet too young to help me ply this business: and ’tis no easy matter to supply their daily wants; how then canst thou suppose that I am enabled to put by large store of hemp and stock? What ropes I twist each day I sell straightway, and of the money earned thereby I spend part upon our needs and with the rest I buy hemp wherewith I twist ropes on the next day. However, praise be to Almighty Allah that, despite this my state of penury He provideth us with bread sufficing our necessity.” When I had made known all my condition Sa’di replied, “O Hasan, now I am certified of thy case and indeed ’tis other than I had supposed; and, given that I gave thee a purse of two hundred Ashrafis, assuredly thou shalt therewith greatly add to thy gains and be enabled to live in ease and affluence: what sayest thou thereto?” Said I, “An thou favour me with such bounty I should hope to grow richer than all and every of my fellow-craftsmen, albeit Baghdad-town is prosperous as it is populous.” Then Sa’di, deeming me true and trustworthy, pulled out of his pocket a purse of two hundred gold pieces and handing them to me said “Take these coins and trade therewith. May Allah advance thee but see to it that thou use this money with all heed, and waste it not in folly and ungraciousness. I and my friend Sa’d will rejoice with all joy to hear of thy well being; and, if hereafter we come again and find thee in flourishing condition, ’twill be matter of much satisfaction to us both.” Accordingly, O Commander of the Faithful, I took the purse of gold with much gladness and a grateful heart and, placing it in my pocket, thanked Sa’di kissing his garment-hem, whereupon the two friends fared forth. And I, O Prince of True Believers, seeing the twain depart, went on working, but was sore puzzled and perplexed as to where I might bestow the purse; for my house contained neither cupboard nor locker. Howbeit I took it home and kept the matter hidden from my wife and children and when alone and unobserved I drew out ten gold coins by way of
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventeenth Night.
Then said she: I have heard, O auspicious King, that Master Hasan the Ropemaker continued his story in these words:—My wife, who knew not of the matter of the Ashrafis, presently perceived that I was ill at ease and I was compelled for a quiet life to let her know my secret; moreover the neighbours came round to ask me of my case: but I was right loath to tell them all that had betided; they could not bring back what was gone and they would assuredly rejoice at my calamity. However, when they pressed me close I told them every whit; and some thought that I had spoken falsely and derided me and others that I was daft and hare-brained and my words were the wild pratings of an idiot or the drivel of dreams. The youngsters made abundant fun of me and laughed
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighteenth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal thus continued his story:—When I had put the Ashrafis a bottom the jar of bran, my wife came in and I said naught to her of the two friends or of aught had happened, but I set out for the Bazar to buy hemp. Now as soon as I had left the house there came, by evil fate impelled, a man who sold Tafl, or fuller’s earth,[FN#275] wherewith the poorer sort of women are wont to wash their hair. My wife would fain have bought some but not a single Kauri[FN#276] or almond had she. Then she took thought and said to herself, “This jar of bran is here to no purpose, I will exchange it for the clay,” and he also, the Tafl seller, agreed to this proposal and went off taking the jar of bran as the price of the washing earth. Anon I came back with a load of hemp upon my head and other five on the heads of as many porters who accompanied me; and I helped them off with their burthens and, after storing the stuff in a room, I paid and dismissed them. Then I stretched me out upon the floor to take rest awhile and looking towards the corner where once stood the jar of bran I found it gone. Words fail me, O Prince of True Believers, to describe the tumult of feelings which filled my heart at the sight. I sprang up with all speed and calling to my wife enquired of her whither the jar had been carried; and she replied that she had exchanged its contents for a trifle of washing clay. Then cried I aloud, “O wretched, O miserable, what hast thou done?
The end of the Six Hundred and Nineteenth Night.
Then said she—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal thus continued his story:—As soon as Sa’d and Sa’di had departed, I went on rope-twisting until night came and when doffing my dress to go to bed the bit of lead which Sa’d had given me fell out of my pocket; so I picked it up and set it carelessly in a small niche in the wall.[FN#278] Now that very night so it happened that a fisherman, one of my neighbours, stood in need of a small coin[FN#279] wherewith to buy some twine for mending his drag-net, as he was wont to do during the dark hours, in order that he might catch the fish ere dawn of day and selling his quarry, buy victuals for himself and his household. So, as he was accustomed to rise while yet somewhat of night remained, he bade his wife go round about to all the neighbours and borrow a copper that he might buy the twine required; and the woman went everywhere, from house to house, but nowhere could she get loan
The end of the Six Hundred and Twentieth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal thus continued his story:—And when my wife had hidden the lamp from view, such was the brightness of the diamond that we could see right well without other light; wherefore I placed it upon the hearth[FN#283] that we might work by it, and said within myself, “The coin that Sa’d left with me hath produced this benefit that we no longer stand in need of a lamp: at least it saveth us oil.” When the youngsters saw me put out the lamp and use the glass in its stead they jumped and danced for joy, and screamed and shouted with glee so that all the neighbours round about could hear them when I chid them and sent them to bed; we also went to rest and right soon fell asleep. Next day I woke betimes and went on with my work and thought not of the piece of glass. Now there dwelt hard by us a wealthy Jew, a jeweller who bought and sold all kinds of precious stones; and, as he and his wife essayed to sleep that night, by reason of
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-first Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal thus continued his story.— Next day the Jew came to my house and I drew forth and showed to him the diamond which shone and glittered in my palm with light as bright as any lamp’s. Presently, assured that all which his wife had told him of its water and lustre was strictly true, he took it in hand and, examining it and turning it about, marvelled with mighty marvel at its beauty saying, “My wife made offer of fifty thousand gold pieces: see now I will give thee yet another twenty thousand.” Said I, “Thy wife hath surely named to thee what sum I fixed to wit, one hundred thousand Ashrafis and naught less: I shall not abate one jot or tittle of this price.” The Jew did all he could to buy it for a lesser sum; but I answered only, “It mattereth naught; an thou desire not to come to my terms I must needs sell it to some other jeweller.” At length he consented and weighed me out two thousand gold pieces by way of earnest-money, saying, “To-morrow I will bring the amount of my offer and carry off my diamond.” To this I gave assent and so, on the day following, he came to me and weighed out the full sum of one hundred thousand Ashrafis, which he had raised amongst his friends and partners in business. Then I gave him the diamond which had brought me such exceeding wealth, and offered thanks to him and praises unto Almighty Allah for this great good Fortune gotten unawares, and much I hoped soon to see my two friends, Sa’d and Sa’di, and to thank them likewise. So first I set my house in order and gave spending-money to my wife for home necessaries and for clothing herself and children; moreover, I also bought me a fine mansion and furnished it with the best. Then said I to my wife, who thought of nothing save rich clothes and high diet and a life of ease and enjoyment, “It behoveth us not to give up this our craft: we must needs put by some coin and carry on the business.” Accordingly, I went to all the rope-makers of the city and buying with much money several manufactories put them to work, and over each establishment I set an overseer, an intelligent man and a trustworthy, so that there is not now throughout Baghdad-city a single ward or quarter that hath not walks and workshops of mine for rope making. Nay, further, I have in each town and every district of Al-Irak warehouses,
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal continued thus his story:—The porter made reply, “This is verily the house of Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal; he is within and he sitteth in his office. I pray thee enter and one of the slaves will make known thy coming to him.” Hereupon the two friends walked in, and as soon as I saw them I recognised them, and rising up to them I ran and kissed the hems of their garments. They would fain have fallen on my neck and embraced me, but with meekness of mind I would not suffer them so to do; and presently I led them into a large and spacious saloon, and bade them sit upon the highmost seats of honour. They would have constrained me to take the best place, but I exclaimed “O my lords, I am on no wise better than the poor rope-maker Hasan, who not unmindful of your worth and goodness ever prayeth for your welfare, and who deserveth not to sit in higher stead than you.” Then they took seat and I opposite them, when quoth Sa’di, “My heart rejoiceth with exceeding joy to see thee in this condition, for that Allah hath given thee all even as thou wishedst. I doubt not thou has gotten all this abundance and opulence by means of the four hundred gold pieces which I gave to thee; but say me truly wherefore didst thou twice deceive me and bespeak me falsely?” Sa’d listened to these words with silent indignation, and ere I could make reply he broke out saying, “O Sa’di, how often have I assured thee that all which Hasan said aforetime anent the losing of the Ashrafis is very sooth and no leasing?” Then they began to dispute each with other; when I, recovering from my surprise, exclaimed, “O my lords, of what avail is this contention? Be not at variance, I beseech you, on my account. All that had befallen me I made known to you; and, whether ye believe my words or ye believe them not, it mattereth but little. Now hearken to the whole truth of my tale.” Then I made known to them the story of the piece of lead which I had given to the fisherman and of the diamond found in the fish’s belly; brief, I told them every whit even as I have now related to thy Highness. On hearing all my adventure Sa’di said, “O Khwajah Hasan, it seemeth to me passing strange that so great a diamond should be found in the belly of a fish; and I deem it a thing impossible that a kite should fly off with thy turband, or that thy wife should give away the jar of bran in exchange for fuller’s earth. Thou sayest the tale is true, still can I not give credit to thy words, for I know full well that the four hundred gold pieces have gotten thee all this wealth.” But when they twain rose up to take their leave, I also arose and said, “O my lords, ye have shown favour to me in that ye have thus deigned visit me in my poor home. I beseech you now to taste of my food and to tarry here this night under your servant’s roof; as to-morrow I would fain take you by the way of the river to a country house which I have lately bought.” Hereto they consented with some
The end of The Six Hundred and Twenty-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Hasan al-Habbal thus pursued his tale:—Now so it happened that, as we sat at rest within that summer house, two sons of mine, whom I had sent together with their governor to my country place for change of water and air,[FN#287] were roaming about the garden seeking birds’ nests. Presently they came across a big one upon the top most boughs and tried to swarm up the trunk and carry it off, but by reason of their lack of strength and little practice they durst not venture so high; whereupon they bade a slave boy who ever attended on them, climb the tree. He did their bidding, but when looking into the nest he was amazed with exceeding amazement to see it mainly made of an old turband. So he brought down the stuff and handed it to the lads. My eldest son took it from his hands and carried it to the arbour for me to see, and set it at my feet saying in high
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious king, that Hasan al-Habbal thus continued his story:—So as the slave boy took out the bran by handfuls and set it before the horses, suddenly his hand came upon a piece of cloth wherein was somewhat heavy. He brought it to me even as he found it and said, “See, is not this cloth the very one of whose loss thou hast ofttimes spoken to us?” I took it and wondering with great wonder knew it was the self same piece
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-fifth Night.
With the dawn Dunyazad awoke Queen Shahrazad from slumber sweet and said, “Arise, O my sister, but alas! ’tis a bitter thing to stand in awe of coming doom.” Replied Shahrazad, “O dear my sister, be not thou downhearted: if life’s span be spent naught can avert the sharp edged sword. Yet place thy trust in Allah Almighty and put far from thee all such anxious thoughts: my tales are tokens of life prolonged.” Whereupon Queen Shahrazad began to tell in these words the story of
In days of yore and in times and tides long gone before there dwelt in a certain town of Persia two brothers one named K sim and the other ’Al¡ B b , who at their father’s demise had divided the little wealth he had left to them with equitable division, and had lost no time in wasting and spending it all. The elder, however, presently took to himself a wife, the daughter of an opulent merchant; so that when his father-in-law fared to the mercy of Almighty Allah, he became owner of a large shop filled with rare goods and costly wares and of a storehouse stocked with precious stuffs; likewise of much gold that was buried in the ground. Thus was he known throughout the city as a substantial man. But the woman whom Ali Baba had married was poor and needy; they lived, therefore, in a mean hovel and Ali Baba eked out a scanty livelihood by the sale of fuel which he daily collected in the jungle[FN#290] and carried about the town to the Bazar upon his three asses. Now it chanced one day that Ali Baba had cut dead branches and dry fuel sufficient for his need, and had placed the load upon his beasts when suddenly he espied a dust-cloud spireing high in air to his right and moving rapidly towards him; and when he closely considered it he descried a troop of horsemen riding on amain and about to reach him. At this sight he was sore alarmed, and fearing lest perchance they were a band of bandits who would slay him and drive off his donkeys, in his affright he began to run; but forasmuch as they were near hand and he could not escape from out the forest, he drove his animals laden with the fuel into a bye-way of the bushes and swarmed up a thick trunk of a huge tree to hide himself therein; and he sat upon a branch whence he could descry everything beneath him whilst none below could catch a glimpse of him above; and that tree grew close beside a rock which towered high above head. The horsemen, young, active, and doughty riders, came close up to the rock-face and all dismounted; whereat Ali Baba took good note of them and soon he was fully persuaded by their mien and demeanour that they were a troop of highwaymen who, having fallen upon a caravan had despoiled it and carried off the spoil and brought their booty to this place with intent of concealing it safely in some cache. Moreover he observed that they were forty in number.—And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious king, that Ali Baba saw the robbers, as soon as they came under the tree, each unbridle his horse and hobble it; then all took off their saddle-bags which proved to be full of gold and silver. The man who seemed to be the captain presently pushed forwards, load on shoulder, through thorns and thickets, till he came up to a certain spot where he uttered these strange
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-seventh Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that quoth Ali Baba to his wife: “Indeed I am no robber and rather do thou rejoice with me at our good fortune.” Hereupon he told her of his adventure and began to pour the gold from the bags in heaps before her, and her sight was dazzled by the sheen and her heart delighted at his recital and adventures. Then she began counting the gold, whereat quoth Ali Baba, “O silly woman how long wilt thou continue turning over the coin? now let me dig a hole wherein to hide this treasure that none may know its secret.” Quoth she, “Right is thy rede! still would I weigh the moneys and have some inkling of their amount;” and he replied, “As thou pleasest”, but see thou tell no man.” So she went of f in haste to Kasim’s home to borrow weights and scales wherewith she might balance the Ashrafis and make some reckoning of their value; and when she could not find Kasim she said to his wife, “Lend me, I pray thee, thy scales for a moment.” Replied her sister-in-law,[FN#292] “Hast thou need of the bigger balance or the smaller?” and the other rejoined, “I need not the large scales, give me the little;” and her sister-in-law cried, “Stay here a moment whilst I look about and find thy want.” With this pretext Kasim’s wife went aside and secretly smeared wax and suet over the pan of the balance, that she might know what thing it was Ali Baba’s wife would weigh, for she made sure that whatso it be some bit thereof would stick to the wax and fat. So the woman took this opportunity to satisfy her curiosity, and Ali Baba’s wife suspecting naught thereof carried home the scales and began to weigh the gold, whilst Ali Baba ceased not digging; and, when the money was weighed, they twain stowed it into the hole which they carefully filled up with earth. Then the good wife took back the scales to her kinswoman, all unknowing that an Ashrafi had adhered to the cup of the scales; but when Kasim’s wife espied the gold coin she fumed with envy and wrath saying to herself, “So ho ! they borrowed my balance to weigh out Ashrafis?” and she marvelled greatly whence so poor a man as Ali Baba had gotten such store of wealth that he should be obliged to weigh it with a pair of scales. Now after long pondering the matter, when her husband returned home at eventide,
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-eighth Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Kasim gave up all hope of the life which he by his greed and envy had so sore imperilled. It came to pass that at noontide the robbers, returning by that way, saw from afar some mules standing beside the entrance and much they marvelled at what had brought the beasts to that place; for, inasmuch as Kasim by mischance had failed to tether or hobble them, they had strayed about the jungle and were browsing hither and thither. However, the thieves paid scant regard to the estrays nor cared they to secure them, but only wondered by what means they had wandered so far from the town. Then, reaching the cave the Captain and his troop dismounted and going up to the door repeated the formula and at once it flew open. Now Kasim had heard from within the cave the horse hooves drawing nigh and yet nigher; and he fell down to the ground in a fit of fear never doubting that it was the clatter of the banditti who would slaughter him without fail. Howbeit he presently took heart of grace and at the moment when the door flew open he rushed out hoping to make good his escape. But the unhappy ran full tilt against the Captain who stood in front of the band, and felled him to the ground; where upon a robber standing near his chief at once bared his brand and with one cut crave Kasim clean in twain. Thereupon the robbers rushed into the cavern, and put back as they were before the bags of Ashrafis which Kasim had heaped up at the doorway ready for taking away; nor recked they aught of those which Ali Baba had removed, so dazed and amazed were they to discover by what means the strange man had effected an entrance. All knew that it was not possible for any to drop through the skylights so tall and steep was the rock’s face, withal slippery of ascent; and also that none could enter by the portal unless he knew the magical words whereby to open it. However they presently quartered the dead body of Kasim and hung it to the door within the cavern, two parts to the right jamb and as many to the left[FN#295] that the sight might be a warning of approaching doom for all who dared enter the cave. Then coming out they closed the hoard door and rode away upon their wonted work. Now when night fell and Kasim came not home, his wife waxed uneasy in mind and running round to Ali Baba said, “O my brother, Kasim hath not returned: thou knowest whither he went, and sore I fear me some misfortune
The end of the Six Hundred and Twenty-ninth Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Ali Baba pursued: “O my lady, what was to happen hath happened but it behoveth us to keep this matter secret, for that our lives depend upon privacy.” She wept with sore weeping and made answer, “It hath fared with my husband according to the fiat of Fate; and now for thy safety’s sake I give thee my word to keep the affair concealed.” He replied, “Naught can avail when Allah hath decreed. Rest thee in patience; until the days of thy widow-hood[FN#297] be accomplisht”; after which time I will take thee to wife, and thou shalt live in comfort and happiness; and fear not lest my first spouse vex thee or show aught of jealousy, for that she is kindly and tender of heart.” The widow lamenting her loss noisily, cried, “Be it as e’en thou please.” Then Ali Baba farewelled her, weeping and wailing for her husband; and joining Morgiana took counsel with her how to manage the burial of his brother. So, after much consultation and many warnings, he left the slave-girl and departed home driving his ass before him. As soon as Ali Baba had fared forth Morgiana went quickly to a druggist’s shop; and, that she might the better dissemble with him and not make known the matter, she asked of him a drug often administered to men when diseased with dangerous dis-temper. He gave it saying, “Who is there in thy house that lieth so ill as to require this medicine?” and said she, “My Master Kasim is sick well nigh unto death: for many days he hath nor spoken nor tasted aught of food, so that almost we despair of his life.” Next day Morgiana went again and asked the druggist for more of medicine and essences such as are adhibited to the sick when at door of death, that the moribund may haply rally before the last breath. The man gave the potion and she taking it sighed aloud and wept, saying’ “I fear me he may not have strength to drink this draught: methinks all will be over with him ere I return to the house.” Meanwhile Ali Baba was anxiously awaiting to hear sounds of wailing and lamentation in Kasim’s home that he might at such signal hasten thither and take part in the ceremonies of the funeral. Early on the second day Morgiana went with veiled face to one Baba Mustafa,[FN#298] a tailor well shotten in years whose craft was to make shrouds and cerecloths; and as soon as she saw him open his shop she gave him a gold piece and said, “Do thou bind a bandage over thine eyes and come along with me.” Mustafa made as though he would not go, whereat Morgiana placed a second gold coin in his palm and entreated him to accompany her. The tailor presently consented for greed of gain, so tying a kerchief tightly over his eyes she led him by the hand to the house wherein lay the dead body of her master. Then, taking off the bandage in the darkened room she bade him sew together the quarters of the corpse, limb to its limb; and, casting a cloth upon the body, said to
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirtieth Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, it so chanced one day when the robbers, as was their wont, came to the treasure-cave that they marvelled exceedingly to find nor sign nor trace of Kasim’s body whilst they observed that much of gold had been carried off. Quoth the Captain, “Now it behoveth us to make enquiry in this matter; else shall we suffer much of loss and this our treasure, which we and our forefathers have amassed during the course of many years, will little by little be wasted and spoiled.” Hereto all assented and with single mind agreed that he whom they had slain had knowledge of the magical words whereby the door was made to open; moreover that some one beside him had cognizance
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-first Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the robber then made marks with white chalk upon the door to the end that he might readily find it at some future time, and removing the bandage from the tailor’s eyes said, “O Baba Mustafa, I thank thee for this favour: and Almighty Allah guerdon thee for thy goodness. Tell me now, I pray thee, who dwelleth in yonder house?” Quoth he, “In very sooth I wot not, for I have little knowledge concerning this quarter of the city;” and the bandit, understanding that he could find no further clue from the tailor, dismissed him to his shop with abundant thanks, and hastened back to the tryst place in the jungle where the band awaited his coming. Not long after it so fortuned that Morgiana, going out upon some errand, marvelled exceedingly at seeing the chalk-marks showing white in the door; she stood awhile deep in thought and presently divined that some enemy had made the signs that he might recognize the house and play some sleight upon her lord. She therefore chalked the doors of all her neighbours in like manner and kept the matter secret, never entrusting it or to master or to mistress. Meanwhile the robber told his comrades his tale of adventure and how he had found the clue; so the Captain and with him all the band went one after other by different ways till they entered the city; and he who had placed the mark on Ali Baba’s door accompanied the Chief to point out the place. He conducted him straightway to the house and strewing the sign exclaimed, “Here dwelleth he of whom we are in search!” But when the Captain looked around him he saw that all the dwellings bore chalk-marks after like fashion and he wondered saying, “By what manner of means knowest thou which house of all these houses that bear similar signs is that whereof thou spakest?” Hereat the robber-guide was confounded beyond measure of confusion, and could make no answer; then with an oath he cried, “I did assuredly set a sign upon a door, but I know not whence came all the marks upon the other entrances; nor can I say for a surety which it was I chalked.” Thereupon the Captain returned to the marketplace and said to his men, “We have toiled and laboured in vain, nor have we found the house we went forth to seek. Return we now to the forest our rendezvous: I also will fare
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-second Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Captain despatched another of his men to the city and he found the place, but, as aforetime, when the troop repaired thither they saw each and every house marked with signs of red chalk. So they returned disappointed and the Captain, waxing displeased exceedingly and distraught, clapped also this spy into gaol. Then said the chief to himself, “Two men have failed in their endeavour and have met their rightful meed of punishment; and I trow that none other of my band will essay to follow up their research; so I myself will go and find the house of this wight.” Accordingly he fared along and aided by the tailor Baba Mustafa, who had gained much gain of golden pieces in this matter, he hit upon the house of Ali Baba; and here he made no outward show or sign, but marked it on the tablet[FN#303] of his heart and impressed the picture upon the page of his memory. Then returning to the jungle he said to his men, “I have full cognizance of the place and have limned it clearly in my mind; so now there will be no difficulty in finding it. Go forth straightways and buy me and bring hither nineteen mules together with one large leathern jar of mustard oil and seven and thirty vessels of the same kind clean empty. Without me and the two locked up
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-third Night,
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Captain, after seeing to the mules and the jars which Ali Baba and his household held to be full of oil, finding utter privacy, whispered to his men who were in ambush, “This night at midnight when ye hear my voice, do you quickly open with your sharp knives the leathern jars from top to bottom and issue forth without delay.” Then passing through the kitchen he reached the chamber wherein a bed had been dispread for him, Morgiana showing the way with a lamp. Quoth she, “An thou need aught beside I pray thee command this thy slave who is ever ready to obey thy say!” He made answer, “Naught else need I;” then, putting out the light, he lay him down on the bed to sleep awhile ere the time came to rouse his men and finish off the work. Meanwhile Morgiana did as her master had bidden her: she first took out a suit of clean white clothes and made it over to Abdullah who had not yet gone to rest; then she placed the pipkin upon the hearth to boil the broth and blew the fire till it burnt briskly. After a short delay she needs must see an the broth be boiling, but by that time all the lamps had gone out and she found that the oil was spent and that nowhere could she get a light. The slave-boy Abdullah observed that she was troubled and perplexed hereat, and quoth he to her, “Why make so much ado? In yonder shed are many jars of oil: go now and take as much soever as thou listest.” Morgiana gave thanks to him for his suggestion; and Abdullah, who was lying at his ease in the hall, went off to sleep so that he might wake betimes and serve Ali Baba in the bath. So the hand-maiden rose[FN#304] and with oil-can in hand walked to the shed where stood the leathern jars all ranged in rows. Now, as she drew nigh unto one of the vessels, the thief who was hidden therein hearing the tread of footsteps bethought him that it was of his Captain whose summons he awaited; so he whispered, “Is it now time for us to sally forth?” Morgiana started back affrighted at the sound of human accents; but, inasmuch as she was bold and ready of wit, she replied, “The time is not yet come,” and said to herself, These jars are not full of oil and herein I perceive a manner of mystery. Haply the oil-merchant hatcheth some treacherous plot against my lord; so Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate, protect us from his snares!” Wherefore she answered in a voice made like to the Captain’s, “Not yet, the time is not come. Then she went to the next jar and returned the same reply to him who was within, and so on to all the vessels one by one. Then said she in herself, “Laud to the Lord! my master took this fellow in believing him to be an oil-merchant, but lo, he hath admitted a band of robbers, who only await the signal to fall upon him and plunder the place and do him die.” Then passed she on to the furthest jar and finding it brimming with oil, filled her can, and returning
The end of the Six Hundred ante Thirty-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Ali Baba presently asked Morgiana what had befallen the oil-merchant his guest whom he had placed under her charge; and she answered, “Allah Almighty vouchsafe to thee six score years and ten of safety! I will tell thee in privacy of this merchant.” So Ali Baba went apart with his slave-girl, who taking him with out the house first locked the court-door; then showing him a jar she said, “Prithee look into this and see if within there be oil or aught else.” Thereupon peering inside it he perceived a man at which sight he cried aloud and fain would have fled in his fright. Quoth Morgiana, “Pear him not, this man hath no longer the force to work thee harm, he lieth dead and stone dead.” Hearing such words of comfort and reassurance Ali Baba asked “O Morgiana, what evils have we escaped and by what means hath this wretch become the quarry of Fate?” She answered “Alhamdolillah Praise be to Almighty Allah! I will inform thee fully of the case; but hush thee, speak not aloud, lest haply the neighbours learn the secret and it end in our confusion. Look now into all the jars, one by one from first to last.” So Ali Baba examined them severally and found in each a man fully armed and accoutred and all lay scalded to death. Hereat speechless for sheer amazement he stared at the jars, but presently re covering himself he asked, “And where is he, the oil-merchant?” Answered she, “Of him also I will inform thee. The villain was no trader but a traitorous assassin whose honied words would have ensnared thee to thy doom; and now I will tell thee what he was and what hath happened; but, meanwhile thou art fresh from the Hammam and thou shouldst first drink somewhat of this broth for thy stomach’s and thy health’s sake.” So Ali Baba went within and Morgiana served up the mess; after which quoth her master, “I fain would hear this wondrous story: prithee tell it to me and set my heart at ease.” Hereat the handmaid fell to relating whatso had betided in these words, “O my master, when thou badest me boil the broth and retiredst to rest, thy slave in obedience to thy command took out a suit of clean white clothes and gave it to the boy Abdullah; then kindled the fire and set on the broth. As soon as it was ready I had need to light a lamp so that I might see to skim it, but all the oil was spent, and, learning this I told my want to the slave-boy Abdullah, who advised me to draw somewhat from the jars which stood under the shed. Accordingly, I took a can and went to the first vessel when suddenly I heard a voice within whisper with all caution, ’Is it now time for us to sally forth?’ I was amazed thereat and judged that the pretended merchant had laid some plot to slay thee; so I replied, ‘The time is not yet come.’ Then I went to the second jar and heard another voice to which I made the like answer, and so on with all of them. I now was certified that these men awaited only some signal from their Chief whom thou didst take to guest
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Morgiana continued to Ali Baba: “Judge now and see if these signs and all this villainy be not the work of the bandits of the forest, who marked our house that on such wise they might know it again. Of these forty thieves there yet remain two others concerning whose case I know naught; so beware of them, but chiefly of the third remaining robber, their Captain, who fled hence alive. Take good heed and be thou cautious of him, for, shouldst thou fall into his hands, he will in no wise spare thee but will surely murther thee. I will do all that lieth in me to save from hurt and harm thy life and property, nor shall thy slave be found wanting in any service to my lord.” Hearing these words
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Ali Baba replied to his nephew: “Thou sayest well: it behoveth thee to entreat thy friend in fairest fashion even as he hath entreated thee. On the morrow, which is Friday, shut thy shop as do all merchants of repute; then, after the early meal, take Khwajah Hasan to smell the air,[FN#306] and as thou walkest lead him hither unawares; meanwhile I will give orders that Morgiana shall make ready for his coming the best of viands and all necesseries for a feast. Trouble not thyself on any wise, but leave the matter in my hands.” Accordingly on the next day, to wit, Friday, the nephew of Ali Baba took Khwajah Hasan to walk about the garden; and, as they were returning he led him by the street wherein his uncle dwelt. When they came to the house the youth stopped at the door and knocking said, “O my lord, this is my second home: my uncle hath heard much of thee and of thy goodness me-wards and desireth with exceeding desire to see thee; so, shouldst thou consent to enter and visit him, I shall be truly glad and thankful to thee.” Albeit Khwajah Hasan rejoiced in heart that he had thus found means whereby he might have access to his enemy’s house and household, and although he hoped soon to attain his end by treachery, yet he
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Morgiana, having spread a white cloth upon the table and served up the meal, went back to the kitchen and thought out her plot against the robber Captain. Now when Ali Baba and Khwajah Hasan had eaten their sufficiency, the slave-boy Abdullah brought Morgiana word to serve the dessert, and she cleared the table and set on fruit fresh and dried in salvers, then she placed by the side of Ali Baba a small tripod for three cups with a flagon of wine, and lastly she went off with the slave-boy Abdullah into another room, as though she would herself eat supper. Then Khwajah Hasan, that is, the Captain of the robbers, perceiving that the coast was clear, exulted mightily saying to himself, “The time hath come for me to take full vengeance; with one thrust of my dagger I will despatch this fellow, then escape across the garden and wend my ways. His nephew will not adventure to stay my hand, for an he do but move a finger or toe with that intent another stab will settle his earthly account. Still must I wait awhile until the slave-boy and the cook-maid shall have eaten and lain down to rest them in the kitchen.” Morgiana, however, watched him wistfully and divining his purpose said in her mind, “I must not allow this villain advantage over my lord, but by some means I must make void his project and at once put an end to the life of him.” Accordingly, the trusty slave-girl changed her dress with all haste and donned such clothes as dancers wear; she veiled her face with a costly kerchief; around her head she bound a fine turband, and about her middle she tied a waist cloth worked with gold and silver wherein she stuck a dagger, whose hilt was rich in filigree and jewelry. Thus disguised she said to the slave-boy Abdullah, “Take now thy tambourine that we may play and sing and dance in honour of our master’s guest.” So he did her bidding and the twain went into the room, the lad playing and the lass following. Then, making a low conge, they asked leave to perform and disport and play; and Ali Baba gave permission, saying, “Dance now and do your best that this our guest may be mirthful and merry.” Quoth Khwajah Hasan, “O my lord, thou dost indeed provide much pleasant entertainment.” Then the slave-boy Abdullah standing by began to strike the tambourine whilst Morgiana rose up and showed her perfect art and pleased them vastly with graceful steps and sportive motion; and suddenly drawing the poniard from her belt she brandished it and paced from side to side, a spectacle which pleased them most of all. At times also she stood before them, now clapping the sharp-edged dagger under her armpit and then setting it against her breast. Lastly she took the tambourine from the slave-boy Abdullah, and still holding the poniard in her right she went round for largesse as is the custom amongst merry makers. First she stood before Ali Baba who threw
The end of the Six Hundred and Thirty-eighth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Ali Baba’s nephew straightway consented to marry Morgiana. After which the three, raising the dead body bore it forth with all heed and vigilance and privily buried it in the garden, and for many years no one knew aught thereof. In due time Ali Baba married his brother’s son to Morgiana with great pomp, and spread a bride-feast in most sumptuous fashion for his friends and neighbours, and made merry with them and enjoyed singing and all manner of dancing and amusements. He prospered in every undertaking and Time smiled upon him and a new source of wealth was opened to him. For fear of the thieves he had not once visited the jungle-cave wherein lay the treasure, since the day he had carried forth the corpse of his brother Kasim. But some time after, he mounted his hackney one morning and journeyed thither, with all care and caution, till finding no signs of man or horse, and reassured in his mind he ventured to draw near the door. Then alighting from his beast he tied it up to a tree, and going to the entrance pronounced the words which he had not forgotten, “Open, O Simsim!” Hereat, as was its wont, the door
The end of the Six Hundred and thirty-ninth Night.
Then by the command of King Shahryar Queen Shahrazad began to tell in these words the story of
Under the reign of Caliph Harun al-Rashid there dwelt in the city of Baghdad a certain merchant, ’Ali Khwajah hight, who had a small stock of goods wherewith he bought and sold and made a bare livelihood, abiding alone and without a family in the house of her forbears. Now so it came to pass that each night for three nights together he saw in a vision a venerable Shaykh who bespake him thus, “Thou art beholden to make a pilgrimage to Meccah; why abidest thou sunk in heedless slumber and farest not forth as it behoveth thee?"[FN#307] Hearing these words he became sore startled and affrighted, so that he sold shop and goods and all that he had; and, with firm intent to visit the Holy House of Almighty Allah, he let his home on hire and joined a caravan that was journeying to Meccah the Magnified. But ere he left his natal city he placed a thousand gold pieces, which were over and above his need for the journey, within an earthen jar filled up with Asafiri[FN#308] or Sparrow-olives; and, having made fast the mouth thereof, he carried the jar to a merchant-friend of many years standing and said, “Belike, O my brother, thou hast heard tell that I purpose going with a caravan on pilgrimage to Meccah, the Holy City; so I have brought a jar of olives the which, I pray thee, preserve for me in trust against my return.” The merchant at once arose and handing the key of his warehouse to Ali Khwajah said, “Here, take the key and open the store and therein place the jar anywhere thou choosest, and when thou shalt come back thou wilt find it even as thou leftest it.” Hereupon Ali Khwajah did his friend’s bidding and locking up the door returned the key to its master. Then loading his travelling goods upon a dromedary and mounting a second beast he fared forth with the caravan. They came at length to Meccah the Magnified, and it was the month Zu al-Hijjah wherein myriads of Moslems hie thither on pilgrimage and pray and prostrate
The end of the Six Hundred and Fortieth Night.
Then said she:—It behoveth thee now, O auspicious King, to hear of the Baghdad merchant and his lack of probity. For seven long years he never once thought of Ali Khwajah or of the trust committed to his charge; till one day as his wife sat at meat with him at the evening meal, their talk by chance was of olives. Quoth she to him, “I would now fain have some that I may eat of them;” and quoth he, “As thou speakest thereof I bethink me of that Ali Khwajah who seven years ago fared on a pilgrimage to Meccah, and ere he went left in trust with me a jar of Sparrow-olives which still cumbereth the store-house. Who knoweth where he is or what hath betided him? A man who lately returned with the Hajj-caravan brought me word that Ali Khwajah had quitted Meccah the Magnified with intent to journey on to Egypt. Allah Almighty alone knoweth an he be still alive or he be now dead; however, if his olives be in good condition I will go bring some hither
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-first Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the multitude which thronged about the merchant’s shop warmly took up the matter; and thus it became well known to all, rich and poor, within the city of Baghdad how that one Ali Khwajah had hidden a thousand Ashrafis within a jar of olives and had placed it on trust with a certain merchant; moreover how, after pilgrimaging to Meccah and seven years of travel the poor man had returned, and that the rich man had gainsaid his words anent the gold and was ready to make oath that he had not received any trust of the kind. At length, when naught else availed, Ali Khwajah was constrained to bring the matter before the Kazi, and to claim one thousand Ashrafis of his false friend. The Judge asked, “What witnesses hast thou who may speak for thee?” and the plantiff answered, “O my lord the Kazi, I feared to tell the matter to any man lest all come to know of my secret. Allah
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the two boys who played the parts of oil-merchants pretended to take some berries from the jar and taste them and presently they said, “O our lord the Kazi, these olives are in fair condition and full-flavoured.” Quoth the Kazi, “Ye speak falsely, for ’tis seven years since Ali Khwajah put them in the jar as he was about to go a-pilgrimaging;” and quoth they, “Say whatso thou wilt those olives are of this year’s growth, and there is not an oil-merchant in all Baghdad but who will agree with us.” Moreover the accused was made to taste and smell the fruits and he could not but admit that it was even so as they had avouched. Then said the boy-Kazi to the boy-defendant, " ’Tis clear thou art a rogue and a rascal, and thou hast done a deed wherefor thou richly deservest the gibbet.” Hearing this the children frisked about and clapped their hands with glee and gladness, then seizing hold
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Caliph ordered the merchant of Baghdad to be taken away and be hanged, after he should have made known where he had put the thousand Ashrafis and that these should have been restored their rightful owner, Ali Khwajah. He also turned to the Kazi who had hastily adjudged the case, and bade him learn from that lad to do his duty more sedulously and conscientiously. More-over the Prince of True Believers embraced the boy, and ordered that the Wazir give him a thousand pieces of gold from the royal treasury and conduct him safely to his home and parents.[FN#312] And after, when the lad grew to man’s estate, the Commander of the Faithful made him one of his cup-companions and furthered his fortunes and ever entreated him with the highmost honour. But when Queen Shahrazad had ended the story of Ali Khwajah and the merchant of Baghdad she said, “Now, O auspicious King, I would relate a more excellent history than any, shouldst thou be pleased to hear that I have to say;” and King Shahryar replied, “By Allah! what an admirable tale is this thou hast told: my ears do long to hear another as rare and commendable.” So Shahrazad began forthright to recount the adventures of[FN#313]
Prince Ahmad
and the fairy
Peri-banu.[FN#314]
In days of yore and times long gone before there was a Sultan of India who begat three sons; the eldest hight Prince Husayn, the second Prince Ali, and the youngest Prince Ahmad; moreover he had a niece, named Princess Nur al-Nihar,[FN#315] the daughter of his cadet brother who, dying early, left his only child under her uncle’s charge. The King busied himself with abundant diligence about her instruction and took all care that she should be taught to read and write, sew and embroider, sing and deftly touch all instruments of mirth and merriment. This Princess also in beauty and loveliness and in wit and wisdom far excelled all the maidens of her own age in every land. She was brought up with the Princes her cousins in all joyance; and they ate together and played together and slept together; and the king had determined in his mind that when she reached marriageable age he would give her in wedlock to some one of the neighbouring royalties; but, when she came to years of discretion, her uncle perceived that the three Princes his sons were all three deep in love of her, and each desired in his heart to woo and to win and to wed her. Wherefore was the King sore troubled in mind and said to himself, “An I give the Lady Nur al-Nihar in wedlock to any one of her cousins, the other twain will be dissatisfied and murmur against my decision; withal my soul cannot endure to see them grieved and disappointed. And should I marry her to some stranger the three Princes my sons will be sore distressed and saddened in soul; nay, who knoweth that they may not slay themselves or go forth and betake them to some far and foreign land? The matter is a troublous and a perilous; so it behoveth me their sire to take action on such wise that if one of them espouse her, the other two be not displeased thereat.” Long time the Sultan revolved the matter in his mind; and at length he devised a device; and, sending for the three princes, addressed them saying, “O my sons, ye are in my opinion of equal merit one with other; nor can I give preference to any of you and marry him to the Princess Nur al-Nihar; nor yet am I empowered to wed her with all three. But I have thought of one plan whereby she shall be wife to one of you, and yet shall not cause aught of irk or envy to his brethren; so may your mutual love and affection remain unabated, and one shall never be jealous of the other’s happiness. Brief, my device is this:—Go ye and travel to distant countries, each one separating himself from the others; and do ye bring me back the thing most wondrous and marvellous of all sights ye may see upon your wayfarings; and he who shall return with the rarest of curiosities shall be husband to the Princess Nur al-Nihar. Consent ye now to this proposal; and whatso of money ye require for travel and for the purchase of objects seld-seen and singular, take ye from the royal treasury as much as ye desire.” The three Princes, who were ever submissive to their sire, consented with one voice to this proposal, and each was satisfied and confident that he would bring the King the most extraordinary of gifts and thereby win the Princess to wife. So the Sultan bade give to each what moneys he wanted without stint or account, and counselled them to make ready for the journey without stay or delay and depart their home in the Peace of Allah.—And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-fourth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the three princely brothers forthright made them ready for journey and voyage. So they donned disguise, preferring the dress of wandering merchants; and, buying such things as they needed and taking with them each his suite they mounted steeds of purest blood and rode forth in a body from the palace. For several stages they travelled the same road until, reaching a place where it branched off in three different ways, they alighted at a Khan and ate the evening meal. Then they made compact and covenant, that whereas they had thus far travelled together they should at break of day take separate roads and each wend his own way and all seek different and distant regions, agreeing to travel for the space of one year only, after which, should they be in the land of the living, all three would rendezvous at that same caravanserai and return in company to the King their sire. Furthermore, they determined that the first who came back to the Khan should await the arrival of the next, and that two of them should tarry there in expectancy of the third. Then, all this matter duly settled, they retired to rest, and when the morning morrowed they fell on one another’s necks and bade farewell; and, lastly, mounting their horses, they rode forth each in his own direction. Now Prince Husayn, the eldest, had oft heard recount the wonders of the land Bishangarh[FN#316], and for a long while had wished to visit it; so he took the road which led thither, and, joining himself to a caravan journeying that way, accompanied it by land and by water and traversed many regions, desert wilds and stony wolds, dense jungles and fertile tracts, with fields and hamlets and gardens and townships. After three months spent in wayfare at length he made Bishangarh, a region over-reigned by manifold rulers, so great was its extent and so far reaching was its power. He put up at a Khan built specially for merchants who came from the farthest lands, and from the folk who dwelt therein he heard tell that the city contained a large central market[FN#317] wherein men bought and sold all manner of rarities and wondrous things. Accordingly, next day Prince Husayn repaired to the Bazar and on sighting it he stood amazed at the prospect of its length and width. It was divided into many streets, all vaulted over but lit up by skylights; and the shops on either side were substantially builded, all after one pattern and nearly of the same size, while each was fronted by an awning which kept off the glare and made a grateful shade. Within these shops were ranged and ordered various kinds of wares; there were bales of “woven air"[FN#318] and linens of finest tissue, plain-white or dyed or adorned with life-like patterns wherefrom beasts and trees and blooms stood out so distinctly that one might believe them to be very ferals, bosquets and gardens. There were moreover silken goods, brocaded
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-fifth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Prince marvelled with excessive marvel at the price, and, beckoning the dealer, examined his wares right well; then said he, “A carpet such as this is selleth for a few silverlings. What special virtue hath it that thou demand therefor the sum of thirty thousand gold coins?” The broker, believing Husayn to be a merchant man lately arrived at Bishangarh, answered him saying, “O my lord, thinkest thou I price this carpet at too high a value? My master hath bidden me not to sell it for less than forty thousand Ashrafis.” Quoth the Prince, “It surely cloth possess some wondrous virtue, otherwise wouldst thou not demand so prodigious a sum;” and quoth the broker, “’Tis true, O my lord, its properties are singular and marvellous. Whoever sitteth on this carpet and willeth in thought
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-sixth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Husayn also saw a fete once a year within the city of Bishangarh and the Ryots all, both great and small, gathered together and circumambulated the Pagodas; chiefly circuiting one which in size and grandeur surpassed all others. Great and learned Pandits versed in the Shastras[FN#323] made journeys of four or five months and greeted one another at that festival; thither too the folk from all parts of India pilgrimaged in such crowds that Prince Husayn was astounded at the sight; and, by reason of the multitudes that thronged around the temples, he could not see the mode in which the gods were worshipped. On one side of the adjacent plain which stretched far and wide, stood a new-made scaffolding of ample size and great magnificence, nine storeys high, and the lower part supported by forty pillars; and here one day in every week the King assembled his Wazirs for the purpose of meting out justice to all strangers in the land. The palace within was richly adorned and furnished with costly furniture: without, upon the wall faces were limned homely landscapes and scenes of foreign parts and notably all manner beasts and birds and insects even gnats and flies, portrayed with such skill of brain and cunning of hand that they seemed real and alive and the country-folk and villagers seeing from afar paintings of lions and tigers and similar ravenous beasts, were filled with awe and dismay. On the other three sides of the scaffolding were pavilions, also of wood, built for use of the commons, illuminated and decorated inside and outside like the first, and wroughten so cunningly that men could turn them round, with all the people in them, and moving them about transfer them to whatsoever quarter they willed. On such wise they shifted these huge buildings by aid of machinery;[FN#324] and the folk inside could look upon a succession of sports and games. Moreover, on each side of the square elephants were ranged in ranks, the number amounting to well nigh one thousand, their trunks and ears and hinder parts being painted with cinnabar and adorned with various lively figures; their housings were of gold brocade and their howdahs purfled with silver, carrying minstrels who performed on various instruments, whilst buffoons delighted the crowd with their jokes and mimes played their most diverting parts. Of all the sports, however, which the Prince beheld, the elephant-show amused him most and Wiled him with the greatest admiration. One huge beast, which could be wheeled about where the keepers ever listed, for that his feet rested upon a post which travelled on casters, held in his trunk a flageolet whereon he played so sweetly well that all the people were fain to cry Bravo! There was another but a smaller animal which stood upon one end of a beam laid crosswise upon, and attached with hinges to, a wooden block eight cubits high, and on the further end was placed an iron weight as heavy as the elephant,
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-seventh Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Ali presently asked one of the shopkeepers with whom he had made acquaintance, saying, “O my friend, is this man a maniac that he asketh a sum of thirty thousand Ashrafis for this little pipe of ivory? Surely none save an idiot would give him such a price and waste upon it such a mint of money.” Said the shop man, “O my lord, this broker is wiser and warier than all the others of his calling, and by means of him I have sold goods worth thousands of sequins. Until yesterday he was in his sound senses; but I cannot say what state is his to day and whether or no he have lost his wits; but this wot I well, that if he ask thirty thousand for yon ivory tube, ’twill be worth that same or even more. Howbeit we shall see with our own eyes. Sit thee here and rest within the shop until he pass this way.” So Prince Ali abode where he was bidden and presently the broker was seen coming up the street. Then the shopman calling to him said, “O man, rare merit hath yon little pipe; for all the folk are astounded to hear thee ask so high a price therefor; nay more, this friend of mine thinketh that thou art crazy.” The broker, a man of sense, was on no wise chafed at these words but answered with gentle speech, “O my lord, I doubt not but that thou must deem me a madman to ask so high a price, and set so great a value upon an article so mean; but when I shall have made known to thee its properties and virtues, thou wilt most readily consent to take it at that valuation. Not thou alone but all men who have heard me cry my cry laugh and name me ninny.” So saying, the broker showed the Spying Tube to Prince Ali and handing it to him said, “Examine well this ivory, the properties of which I will explain to thee. Thou seest that it is furnished with a piece of glass at either end;[FN#327] and, shouldst thou apply one extremity thereof to thine eye, thou shalt see what thing soe’er thou listest and it shall appear close by thy side though parted from thee by many an hundred of miles.” Replied the Prince, “This passeth all conception, nor can I believe it to be veridical until I shall have tested it and I become satisfied that ’tis even as thou sayest.” Hereupon the broker placed the little tube in Prince Ali’s hand, and showing him the way to handle it said, “Whatso thou mayest wish to descry will be shown to thee by looking through this ivory.” Prince Ali silently wished to sight his sire, and when he placed the pipe close to his eye forthwith he saw him hale and hearty, seated on his throne and dispensing justice to the people of his dominion. Then the youth longed with great longing to look upon his lady love the Princess Nur al-Nihar; and straightway he saw her also sitting upon her bed, sound and sane, talking and laughing, whilst a host of handmaids stood around awaiting her commands. The Prince was astonished exceedingly to behold this strange and wondrous spectacle, and said to himself, “An I should wander the
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-eighth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the broker said moreover to Prince Ahmad, “Now hearken to me, O my lord, and I will tell thee what of virtue lieth in this artificial apple. If anyone be sick of a sickness however sore, nay more if he be ill nigh unto death, and perchance he smell this pome, he will forthwith recover and become well and whole of whatsoever disease he had, plague or pleurisy, fever or other malignant distemper, as though
The end of the Six Hundred and Forty-ninth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Ali enlarged upon the virtues of his purchase and said, “Ye see this ivory pipe? By means of it man may descry objects hidden from his sight and distant from him many a mile. ’Tis truly a most wondrous matter and right worthy your inspection, and you two may try it an ye will. Place but an eye close to the smaller glass and form a wish in mind to see what thing soe’er your soul desireth; and, whether it be near hand or distant many hundreds of miles, this ivory will make the object look clear and close to you.” At these words Prince Husayn took the pipe from Prince Ali and, applying his eye to one end as he had been directed, then wished in his heart to behold the Princess Nur al-Nihar;[FN#329] and the two brothers watched him to learn what he would say. Suddenly they saw his face change colour and wither as a wilted flower, while in his agitation and distress a flood of tears gushed from his eyes; and, ere his brothers recovered from their amazement and could enquire the cause of such strangeness, he cried aloud, “Alas! and
The end of the Six Hundred and Fiftieth Night.
Then she said:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the brothers also were gladdened with exceeding gladness to see the Princess Nur al-Nihar recover so suddenly from mortal malady and, presently taking leave of her, they fared to greet their father. Meanwhile the Eunuchs had reported the whole matter to the Sultan, and when the Princes came before him he rose and embraced them tenderly and kissed them on their foreheads, filled with satisfaction to see them again and to hear from them the welfare of the Princess, who was dear to him as she had been his daughter. Then the three brothers produced each one the wondrous thing he had brought from his wayfare; and Prince Husayn first showed the Flying Carpet which in the twinkling of an eye had transported them home from far distant exile and said, “For outward show this carpet hath no merit, but inasmuch as it possesseth such wondrous virtue, methinks ’tis impossible to find in all the world aught that can compare to it for rarity.” Next, Prince Ali presented to the King his Spying Tube and said, “The mirror of Jamshid[FN#330] is as vain and naught beside this pipe, by means whereof all things from East to West and from North to South are made clearly visible to the ken of man.” Last of all, Prince Ahmad produced the Magical Apple which wondrously saved the dear life of Nur al-Nihar and said, “By means of this fruit all maladies and grievous distempers are at once made whole.” Thus each presented his rarity to the Sultan, saying, “O our lord, deign examine well these gifts we have brought and do thou pronounce which of them all is most excellent and admirable; so, according to thy promise, he amongst us on whom thy choice may fall shall marry the Princess Nur al-Nihar.” When the King had patiently listened to their several claims and had understood how each gift took part in restoring health to his niece, for a while he dove deep in the sea of thought and then answered, “Should I award the palm of merit to Prince Ahmad, whose Magical Apple cured the Princess, then should I deal unfairly by the other two. Albeit his rarity restored her to life and health from mortal illness, yet say me how had he known of her condition save by the virtue of Prince Ali’s Spying Tube? In like manner, but for the Flying Carpet of Prince Husayn, which brought you three hither in a moment’s space, the Magical Apple would have been of no avail. Wherefore ’tis my rede all three had like part and can claim equal merit in healing her; for it were impossible to have made her whole if any one thing of the three were wanting; furthermore all three objects are wondrous and marvellous without one surpassing other, nor can I, with aught of reason, assign preference or precedence to any. My promise was to marry the Lady Nur al-Nihar to him who should produce the rarest of rarities, but although strange ’tis not less true that all are alike in the one essential
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-first Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Ahmad went searching for his shaft over hill and dale when, after covering some three parasangs, suddenly he espied it lying flat upon a rock.[FN#331] Hereat he marvelled greatly, wondering how the arrow had flown so far, but even more so when he went up to it and saw that it had not stuck in the ground but appeared to have rebounded and to have fallen flat upon a slab of stone. Quoth he to himself, “There must assuredly be some mystery in this matter: else how could anyone shoot a shaft to such a distance and find it fallen after so strange a fashion.” Then, threading his way amongst the pointed crags and huge boulders, he presently came to a hollow in the ground which ended in a subterraneous passage, and after pacing a few paces he espied an iron door. He pushed this open with all ease, for that it had no bolt, and entering, arrow in hand, he came upon an easy slope by which he descended. But whereas he feared to find all pitch-dark, he discovered at some distance a spacious square, a widening of the cave, which was lighted on every side with lamps and candelabra. Then advancing some fifty cubits or more his glance fell upon a vast and handsome palace, and presently there issued from within to the portico a lovely maiden lovesome and lovable, a fairy-form robed in princely robes and adorned from front to foot with the costliest of jewels. She walked with slow and stately gait, withal graceful and blandishing, whilst around her ranged her attendants like the stars about a moon of the fourteenth night. Seeing this vision of beauty, Prince Ahmad hastened to salute her with the salam and she returned it; then coming forwards greeted him graciously and said in sweetest accents, “Well come and welcome, O Prince Ahmad: I am pleased to have sight of thee. How fareth it with thy Highness and why hast thou tarried so long away from me?” The King’s son marvelled greatly to hear her name him by his name; for that he knew not who she was, as they had never seen each other aforetime—how then came she to have learnt his title and condition? Then kissing ground before her he said, “O my lady, I owe thee much of thanks and gratitude for that thou art pleased to welcome me with words of cheer in this strange place where I, alone and a stranger, durst enter with exceeding hesitation and trepidation. But it perplexeth me sorely to think how thou camest to learn the name of thy slave.” Quoth she with a smile, “O my lord, come hither and let us sit at ease within yon belvedere; and there I will give an answer to thine asking.” So they went thither, Prince Ahmad following her footsteps; and on reaching it he was filled with wonder to see its vaulted roof of exquisite workmanship and adorned with gold and lapis lazuli[FN#332] and paintings and ornaments, whose like was nowhere to be found in the world. The lady seeing his astonishment said to
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-Second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that when Prince Ahmad heard these words of Peri-Banu he rejoiced with joy exceeding, and said to himself, “The Princess Nur al-Nihar is not within my power to win, and Peri-Banu doth outvie her in comeliness of favour and in loveliness of form and in gracefulness of gait.” In short so charmed was he and captivated that he clean forgot his love for his cousin; and, noting that the heart of his new enchantress inclined towards him, he replied, “O my lady, O fairest of the fair, naught else do I desire save that I may serve thee and do thy bidding all my life long. But I am of human and thou of non-human birth. Thy friends and family, kith and kin, will haply be displeased with thee an thou unite with me in such union.” But she made answer, “I have full sanction of my parents to marry as I list and whomsoever I may prefer. Thou sayest that thou wilt be my servant, nay, rather be thou my lord and master; for I myself and my life and all my good are very thine, and I shall ever be thy bondswoman. Consent now, I beseech thee, to accept me for thy wife: my heart doth tell me thou wilt not refuse my request.” Then Peri-Banu added, “I have told thee already that in this matter I act with fullest authority. Besides all this there is a custom and immemorial usage with us fairy-folk that, when we maidens come to marriageable age and years of understanding, each one may wed, according the dictates of her heart, the person that pleaseth her most and whom she judgeth likely to make her days happy Thus wife and husband live with each other all their lives in harmony and happiness. But if a girl be given away in marriage by the parents, according to their choice and not hers, and she be mated to a helpmate unmeet for her, because ill-shapen or ill-conditioned or unfit to win her affection, then are they twain likely to be at variance each with other for the rest of their days; and endless troubles result to them from such ill-sorted union. Nor are we bound by another law which bindeth modest virgins of the race of Adam; for we freely announce our preference to those we love, nor must we wait and pine to be wooed and won.” When Prince Ahmad heard these words of answer, he rejoiced with exceeding joy and stooping down essayed to kiss the skirt of her garment, but she prevented him, and in lieu of her hem gave him her hand. The Prince clasped it with rapture and according to the custom of that place, he kissed it and placed it to his breast and upon his eyes. Hereat quoth the Fairy, smiling a charming smile, “With my hand locked in thine plight me thy troth even as I pledge my faith to thee, that I will alway true and loyal be, nor ever prove faithless or fail of constancy.” And quoth the Prince, “O loveliest of beings, O dearling of my soul, thinkest thou that I can ever become a traitor to my own heart, I who love thee to distraction and dedicate to thee my body and my sprite; to thee who art my queen, the very empress
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that tongue of man can never describe the magnificence of that room in which bands of virgin Peris, loveliest of forms and fairest of features, garbed in choicest garments played on sweet-toned instruments of mirth and merriment or sang lays of amorous significance to strains of heart bewitching music. Then they twain, to wit the bride and bridegroom, sat down at meat, ever and anon delaying to indulge in toyings and bashful love-play and chaste caresses. Peri-Banu with her own hands passed the choicest mouthfuls to Prince Ahmad and made him taste of each dish and dainty, telling him their names and whereof they were composed. But how shall I, O auspicious King Shahryar, avail to give thee any notion of those Jinn-made dishes or to describe with due meed of praise the delicious flavour of meats such as no mortal ever tasted or ever beheld? Then, when both had supped, they
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that not seeing Prince Husayn and Prince Ahmad for the space of many days the Sultan waxed exceeding sad and heavy-hearted, and one morning after Darbar,[FN#336] asked his Wazirs and Ministers what had betided them and where they were. Hereto the councillors made answer saying, “O our lord, and shadow of Allah upon earth, thine eldest son and fruit of thy vitals and heir apparent to thine Empire the Prince Husayn, in his disappointment and jealousy and bitter grief hath doffed his royal robes to become a hermit, a devotee, renouncing all worldly lusts and gusts. Prince Ahmad thy third son also in high dudgeon hath left the city; and of him none knoweth aught, whither he hath fled or what hath befallen him.” The King was sore distressed and bade them write without stay or delay and forthright despatch firmans and commands to all the Nabobs and Governors of the provinces, with strict injunctions to make straight search for Prince Ahmad and to send him to his sire the moment he was found. But, albeit the commandments were carried out to the letter and all the seekers used the greatest diligence none came upon any trace of him. Then, with increased sadness of heart, the Sultan ordered his Grand Wazir to go in quest of the
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Peri-Banu gladdened by these premises addressed her husband, Prince Ahmad, “So now, as soon as thy heart desireth, go thou and pay thy respects to thy sire; but ere thou set out I would charge thee with one charge and look that on no wise thou forget my rede and my counsel. Speak not to any a single word of this thy marriage nor of the strange sights thou hast seen and the wonders thou hast witnessed; but keep them carefully concealed from thy father and thy brethren and from thy kith and kin, one and all. This only shalt thou tell thy sire, so his mind may be set at ease that thou art buxom and happy; also that thou hast returned home for a while only with the object of seeing him and becoming assured of his welfare.” Then she gave orders to her people bidding them make ready for the journey without delay; and when all things were prepared she appointed twenty horsemen, armed cap-a-pie and fully accoutred, to accompany her husband, and gave him a horse of perfect form and proportions, swift as the blinding leven or the rushing wind; and its housings and furniture were bedeckt with precious ores and studded with jewels. Then she fell on his neck and they embraced with warmest love; and as the twain bade adieu, Prince Ahmad, to set her mind at rest, renewed his protestations and sware to her again his solemn oath. Then mounting his horse and followed by his suite (all Jinn-born cavaliers) he set forth with mighty pomp and circumstance, and riding diligently he soon reached his father’s capital. Here
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Peri-Banu joyed with exceeding joy at the sight of Prince Ahmad as he returned to his home; and it seemed to her as though they had been parted for three hundred years: such is love that moments of separation are longsome and weary as twelvemonths. The Prince offered much of excuses for his short absence and his words delighted Peri-Banu yet the more. So these twain, lover and beloved, passed the time in perfect happiness, taking their pleasure one with other. Thus a month went by and Prince Ahmad never once mentioned the name of his sire nor expressed a wish to go visit him according to his promise. Noting this change, the Lady Peri-Banu said to him one day, “Thou toldest me aforetime that once in the beginning of each month thou wouldst fare forth and travel to thy father’s court and learn news of his welfare: why then neglectest thou so to do, seeing that he will be distressed and anxiously expecting thee?” Replied Prince Ahmad, “’Tis even as thou sayest, but, awaiting thy command and thy permission, I have forborne to propose the journey to thee.” And she made answer, “Let thy faring and thy returning rest not on my giving thee liberty of leave. At the beginning of each month as it cometh round, do thou ride forth, and from this time forwards thou hast no need to ask permission of me. Stay with thy sire three days full-told
’Thou canst bar a spring with a sod of clay * But when grown ‘twill bear a big host away.’”
Thus spake that malicious Wazir; and presently he resumed, “Thou knowest also that when Prince Ahmad would end his three days’ visits he never asketh thy leave nor farewelleth thee nor biddeth adieu to any one of his family. Such conduct is the beginning of rebellion and proveth him to be rancorous of heart. But ’tis for thee in thy wisdom to decide.” These words sank deep in the heart of the simple-minded Sultan and grew a crop of the direst suspicions. He presently thought within himself, “Who knoweth the mind and designs of Prince Ahmad, whether they be dutiful or undutiful towards me? Haply he may be plotting vengeance; so it besitteth me to make enquiries concerning him, to discover where he dwelleth and by what means he hath attained to such puissance and opulence.”
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that moreover the King largessed the Witch with a diamond of large size and of great price, saying, “Take this stone to guerdon for thy trouble and travail and in earnest of future favours; so, when thou shalt return and bring me word that thou hast searched and found out the secret, thou shalt have a Bakhshish of far greater worth and I will make thy heart rejoice with choicest joy and honour thee with highmost honour.” So the Sorceress looked forwards to the coming of the Prince, for well she knew that at the sight of each crescent he rode home to visit his sire and was bound to abide with him three days, even as the Lady Peri-Banu had permitted and had enjoined him. Now when the moon had waxed and waned, on the day before the Prince would leave home upon his monthly visit, the Witch betook her to the rocks and sat beside the place whence she imagined he would issue forth; and next morning early he and his suite, composed of many a mounted knight with his esquire a-foot, who now always accompanied him in increasing numbers, rode forth gallantly through the iron doorway and passed hard by the place where she lay in wait for him. The Sorceress crouched low upon the ground in her tattered rags; and, seeing a heap by his way, the Prince at first supposed that a slice of stone had fallen from the rocks across his path. But as he drew nigh she fell to weeping and wailing with might and main as though in sore dolour and distress, and she ceased not to crave his countenance and assistance with increase of tears and lamentations. The Prince seeing her sore sorrow had pity on her, and reining in his horse, asked her what she had to require of him and what was the cause of her cries and lamentations. At this the cunning crone but cried the more, and the Prince was affected with compassion still livelier at seeing her tears and hearing her broken, feeble words. So when the Sorceress perceived that Prince Ahmad had ruth on her and would fain show favour to her, she heaved a heavy sigh and in woeful tones, mingled with moans and groans, addressed him in these false words, withal holding the hem of his garment and at times
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-eighth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Peri-Banu looked at the old woman and charged a twain of her handmaidens that they carry her into a room apart and tend her with the tenderest care and the uttermost of diligence. The attendants did as she bade them and transported the Sorceress to the place she had designed. Then Peri-Banu addressed Prince Ahmad saying, “O my lord, I am pleased to see thy pitiful kindness towards this ancient dame, and I surely will look to her case even as thou hast enjoined me; but my heart misgiveth me and much I fear some evil will result from thy goodness. This woman is not so ill as she doth make believe, but practiseth deceit upon thee and I ween that some enemy or envier hath plotted a plot against me and thee. Howbeit go now in peace upon thy journey.” The Prince, who on no wise took to heart the words
The end of the Six Hundred and Fifty-ninth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Sorceress, who was a mere creature of the malicious Wazir, replied, “O King of kings, this matter have I fully searched out even as thou gavest command, and I am about to tell thee all that hath betided me. The signs of sorrow and marks of melancholy thou notest upon my countenance are for other cause which narrowly concerneth thy welfare.” Then she began to recount her adventure in these terms, “Now when I had reached the rocks I sat me down feigning sickness; and, as Prince Ahmad passed that way and heard my complaining and saw my grievous condition, he had compassion on me. After some ‘said and say’ he took me with him by a subterranean passage and through an iron door to a magnificent palace and gave me in charge of a fairy, Peri-Banu hight, of passing beauty and loveliness, such as human eye hath never yet seen. Prince Ahmad bade her make me her guest for some few days and bring me a medicine which would complete my cure, and she to please him at once appointed handmaidens to attend upon me. So I was certified that the twain were one flesh, husband and wife. I feigned to be exceeding frail and feeble and made as though
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixtieth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that this felon counsel pleased the malicious Minister and all his fautors and flatterers highly approved his rede. The Sultan kept silence and made no reply, but on the morrow he sent and summoned the Sorceress and debated with her whether he should or should not cast Prince Ahmad into prison. Quoth she, “O King of kings, this counsel is clean contrary to sound sense and right reason. An thou throw Prince Ahmad into gaol, so must thou also do with all his knights and their esquires; and inasmuch as they are Jinns and Marids, who can tell their power of reprisals? Nor prison-cells nor gates of adamant can keep them in; they will forthwith escape and report such violence to the Fairy who, wroth with extreme wrath to find her husband doomed to durance vile like a common malefactor, and that too for no default or crime but by a treacherous arrest, will assuredly deal the direst of vengeance on thy head and do us a damage we shall not be able to forfend. An thou wilt confide in me, I will advise thee how to act, whereby thou mayest win thy wish and no evil will come nigh thee or thy kingship. Thou knowest well that to Jinns and Fairies is power given of doing in one short moment deeds marvellous and wondrous, which mortals fail to effect after long years of toil and trouble. Now whenas thou goest a-hunting or on other expedition, thou requirest pavilions for thyself and many tents for thy retinue and attendants and soldiery; and in making ready and transporting such store much time and wealth are wastefully expended. I would advise, O King of kings, that thou try Prince Ahmad by the following test: do thou bid him bring to thee a Shahmiyanah[FN#340] so long and so broad that it will cover and lodge the whole of thy court and men-at-arms and camp-followers, likewise the beasts of burthen; and yet it must be so light that a man may hold it in the hollow of his hand and carry it whithersoever he listeth.” Then, after holding her peace for a while, she added, still addressing the Sultan, “And as soon as Prince Ahmad shall acquit himself of this commission, do thou demand of him a somewhat still greater and more wondrous wherewith I will make thee ware, and which he will find grievous of execution. On this wise shalt thou fill thy treasury with rare inventions and strange, the handicraft of Jann, nor will this cease till such time in fine when thy son shall be at his wits’ end to carry out thy requirements. Then, humbled and abashed, he will never dare to enter thy capital or even thy presence; and thus shalt thou be saved from fear of harm at his hands, and thou shalt not have need to put him in gaol or, worse still, to do him dead.” Hearing these words of wisdom, the Sultan made known the Witch’s device to his advisers and asked them what they deemed thereof. They held their peace and answered not a word or good or ill; while he himself highly approved it and said
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-first Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that quoth the King to Prince Ahmad, “Shouldst thou perchance fail in this matter and bring me not the gift required, O my son, I will never see thy face again. A sorry husband thou, in good sooth, if thy wife refuse so mean a thing and hasten not to do all thou biddest her do; giving thee to see that thou art of small value and consequence in her eyes, and that her love for thee is a quantity well nigh to naught. But do thou, O my child, go forth and straightway ask her for the tent. An she give it thee know thou she desireth thee and thou art the dearest of all things to her; and I have been informed that she loveth thee with all her heart and soul and will by no means refuse thee aught thou requirest, were it even the balls of her eyes.” Now Prince Ahmad was ever wont to tarry three days each month with the Sultan his sire, and return to his spouse on the fourth; but this time he stayed two days only and farewelled his father on the third. As he passed into the palace Peri-Banu could not but note that he was sad at heart and downcast of face; so she asked of him, “Is all well with thee? Why hast thou come to-day and not tomorrow from the presence of the King thy father, and why carriest thou so triste a countenance?” Whereupon, after kissing her brow and fondly embracing her, he told her the whole matter, first to last, and she made answer, “I will speedily set thy mind at rest, for I would not see thee so saddened for a moment longer. Howbeit, O my love, from this petition of the Sultan thy sire I am certified that his end draweth nigh, and he will soon depart this world to the mercy of Allah the Almighty.[FN#342] Some enemy hath done this deed and much of mischief hath made for thee; and the result is that thy father, all unmindful of his coming doom, cloth seek diligently his own destruction.” The Prince, anxious and alarmed, thus answered his wife, “Almighty Allah be praised, the King my liege lord is in the best of health and showeth no sign of disorder or decrepitude: ’tis but this morning I left him hale and hearty, and in very sooth I never saw him in better case. Strange, indeed, that thou shouldst ken what shall betide him before I have told thee aught concerning him, and especially how he hath come to learn of our marriage and of our home.” Quoth Peri-Banu, “O my Prince, thou knowest what I said to thee whenas I saw the old dame whom thou broughtest hither as one afflicted with the ague and fever. That woman, who is a Witch of Satan’s breed, hath disclosed to thy father all he sought to learn concerning this our dwelling-place. And notwithstanding that I saw full clearly she was nor sick nor sorry, but only feigning a fever, I gave her medicine to drink which cureth complaints of all kinds, and she falsely made believe that by its virtues she had recovered health and strength. So when she came to take leave of me, I sent her with two of my damsels and bid them display to her every
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Ahmad hent the pavilion in hand and thought to himself, “What is this Peri-Banu giveth me? Surely she doth make a mock of me.” His wife, however, reading his mind in his face fell to laughing aloud, and asked, “What is it, O my dearling Prince? Dost thou think that I am jesting and jibing at thee?” Then she continued, addressing the treasurer Nur Jehan, “Take now yon tent from Prince Ahmad and set it upon the plain that he may see its vast size and know if it be such an one as required by the Sultan his sire.” The handmaid took the pavilion and pitched it afar from the Palace; and yet one end thereof reached thereto from the outer limit of the plain; and so immense was its size that (as Prince Ahmad perceived) there was room therein for all the King’s court; and, were two armies ranged under it with their camp-followers and bat-animals, one would on no wise crowd or inconvenience the other. He then begged pardon of Peri-Banu saying, “I wot not that the Shahmiyanah was so prodigious of extent and of so marvellous a nature; wherefore I misdoubted when first I saw it.” The Treasurer presently struck the tent and returned it to the palm of his hand; then, without stay or delay, he took horse and followed by his retinue rode back to the royal presence, where after obeisance and suit and service he presented the tent. The Sultan also, at first sight of the gift, thought it a small matter, but marvelled with extreme marvel to see its size when pitched, for it would have shaded his capital and its suburbs. He was not, however, wholly
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Peri-Banu said further to Prince Ahmad, “Natheless I will grant this largesse also as the Sultan hath set his mind upon it, and no harm shall come therefrom to me or to thee, albe ’tis a matter of great risk and danger, and it is prompted by not a little of malice and ungraciousness. But give careful heed to my words, nor neglect thou aught of them, or thy destruction is certain-sure. I now will tell thee what to do. In the hall of yonder castle which riseth on that mountain is a fountain sentinelled by four lions fierce and ravening; and they watch and ward the path that leadeth thereto, a pair standing on guard whilst the other two take their turn to rest, and thus no living thing hath power to pass by them. Yet will I make known to thee the means whereby thou mayest win thy wish without any hurt or harm befalling thee from the furious beasts.” Thus saying she drew from an ivory box a clew of thread and, by means of a needle one of those wherewith she had been plying her work, made thereof a ball. This she placed in the hands of her husband, and said, “First, be thou careful that thou keep about thee with all diligence this ball, whose use I shall presently explain to thee. Secondly, choose for thyself two horses of great speed, one for thine own riding, whilst on the other thou shalt load the carcass of a freshly slaughtered sheep cut into four quarters.
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Prince replied, “By thy favour, O my lord the Sultan, have I returned in safety from that stead mainly because I did according to the bidding of my spouse, the Lady Peri-Banu; and I have brought the water from the Lions’ Spring only by carrying out her commands.” Then he made known to his father all that had befallen him in going and returning; and when the Sultan noted the pre-eminent valiance and prowess of his son he only feared the more, and the malice and the rancour, envy and jealousy which filled his heart waxed tenfold greater than before. However, dissembling his true sentiments he dismissed Prince Ahmad and betaking him to his private chamber at once sent word to bid the Witch appear in the presence; and when she came, he told her of the Prince’s visit and all about the bringing of the water from the Lions’ Spring. She had already heard somewhat thereof by reason of the hubbub in the city at the coming of the lions; but, as soon as she had given ear to the whole account, she marvelled with mighty marvel and, after whispering in the Sultan’s ear her new device, said to him in triumph, “O King of kings, this time thou shalt lay a charge on the Prince and such commandment methinks will trouble him and it shall go hard with him to execute aught thereof.” “Thou sayest well,” replied the Sovran, “now indeed will I try this plan thou hast projected for me.” Wherefore, next day whenas Prince Ahmad came to the presence of his sire, the King said
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Peri-Banu hearing these words said to the Prince, “Trouble not thyself at all in this matter. Thou didst venture at great risk to carry off for thy father water from the Lions’ Spring and thou succeededst in winning thy wish. Now this task is on no wise more difficult or dangerous than was that: nay ’tis the easier for that he thou describest is none other than Shabbar, my brothergerman. Although we both have the same parents, yet it pleased Almighty Allah to enform us in different figures and to make him unlike his sister as being in mortal mould can be. Moreover he is valiant and adventurous, always seeking some geste and exploit whereby to further my interest, and right willingly doth he carry out whatso he undertaketh.
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the King made no reply to Shabbar, but held up his hands before his eyes that he might not behold that frightful figure, and turning his head would fain have fled in terror. Shabbar was filled with fury at this rudeness on the part of the Sultan, and was wroth with exceeding wrath to think that he had troubled himself to come at the bidding of such a craven, who now on seeing him would fain run away. So the Jinn, without an instant’s delay, raised his quarter staff of steel, and, swinging it twice in air, before Prince Ahmad could reach the throne or on any wise interfere, struck the Sultan so fiercely upon the poll that his skull was smashed and his brains were scattered over the floor. And when Shabbar had made an end of this offender, he savagely turned upon the Grand Wazir who stood on the Sultan’s right and incontinently would have slain him also, but the Prince craved pardon for his life and said, “Kill him not: he is my friend and hath at no time said one evil word against me. But such is not the case with the others, his fellows.” Hearing these words the infuriated Shabbar fell upon the Ministers and ill-counsellors on either side, to wit, all who had devised evil devices against Prince
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that after these things King Ahmad summoned Prince Ali his brother and Nur al-Nihar and made him governor of a large city hard by the capital, and dismissed him thither in high state and splendour. Also he commissioned an official to wait upon Prince Husayn and tell him all the tidings, and sent word saying, “I will appoint thee ruler over any capital or country thy soul desireth; and, if thou consent, I will forward thee letters of appointment.” But inasmuch as the Prince was wholly content and entirely happy in Darwaysh-hood, he cared naught for rule or government or aught of worldly vanities; so he sent back the official with his duty and grateful thanks, requesting that he might be left to live his life in solitude and renunciation of matters mundane. Now when Queen Shahrazad had made an end of telling her story and yet the night was not wholly spent, King Shahryar spake saying, “This thy story, admirable and most wonderful, hath given me extreme delight; and I pray thee do thou tell us another tale till such time as the last hours of this our night be passed.” She replied, “Be it as thou wilt, O auspicious King: I am thy slave to do as thou shalt bid.” Then she began to relate the tale of
Thetwo sisters who envied their
cadette[FN#349]
In days of yore and in times long gone before there lived a king of Persia, Khusrau Shah hight, renowned for justice and righteousness. His father, dying at a good old age, had left him sole heir to all the realm and, under his rule, the tiger and the kid drank side by side at the same Ghat;[FN#350] and his treasury was ever full and his troops and guards were numberless. Now it was his wont to don disguise and, attended by a trusty Wazir, to wander about the street at night-time. Whereby things seld-seen and haps peregrine became known to him, the which, should I tell thee all thereof, O auspicious King, would weary thee beyond measure. So he took seat upon the throne of his forbears and when the appointed days of mourning were ended, according to the custom of that country, he caused his exalted name, that is Khusrau Shah, be struck upon all the coins of the kingdom and entered into the formula of public prayer.[FN#351] And when stablished in his sovranty he went forth as aforetime on one evening accompanied by his Grand Wazir, both in merchant’s habit, walking the streets and squares, the markets and lanes, the better to note what might take place both of good and of bad. By chance they passed, as the night darkened, through a quarter where dwelt people of the poorer class; and as they walked on, the Shah heard inside a house women talking with loud voices; then going near, he peeped in by the door-chink, and saw three fair sisters who having supped together were seated on a divan talking one to other. The King thereupon applied his ear to the crack and listened eagerly to what they said, and heard each and every declaring what was the thing she most desired.[FN#352] Quoth the eldest, “I would I were married to the Shah’s head Baker for then should I ever have bread to eat, the whitest and choicest in the city, and your hearts would be fulfilled with envy and jealousy and malice at my good luck.” Quoth the second, “I would rather wive with the Shah’s chief Kitchener and eat of dainty dishes that are placed before his Highness, wherewith the royal bread which is common throughout the Palace cannot compare for gust and flavour.” And quoth the third and youngest of the three, and by far the most beautiful and lively of them all, a maiden of charming nature, full of wit and humour; sharp-witted, wary and wise, when her turn came to tell her wish, “O sisters, my ambition is not as ordinary as yours. I care not for fine bread nor glutton-like do I long for dainty dishes. I look to somewhat nobler and higher: indeed I would desire nothing less than to be married by the King and become the mother of a beautiful Prince, a model of form and in mind as masterful as valorous. His hair should be golden on one side and silvern on the other: when weeping he should drop pearls in place of tears,
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-eighth Night
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that at these words of the Shah the sisters, confused and filled with shame, durst not reply but stood before him silent with heads bent low; and despite all questioning and encouragement they could not pluck up courage. However, the youngest was of passing comeliness in form and feature and forthwith the Shah became desperately enamoured of her; and of his live began reassuring them and saying, “O ye Princesses of fair ones, be not afraid nor troubled in thought; nor let bashfulness or shyness prevent you telling the Shah what three wishes you wished, for fain would he fulfil them all.” Thereat they threw themselves at his feet and, craving his pardon for their boldness and freedom of speech, told him the whole talk, each one repeating the wish she had wished; and on that very day Khusrau Shah married the eldest sister to his chief Baker, and the second sister to his head Cook, and bade make all things ready for his own wedding with the youngest sister. So when the preparations for the royal nuptials had been made after costliest fashion, the King’s marriage was celebrated with royal pomp and pageantry, and the bride received the titles of Light of the Harem and Banu of Iran-land. The other two maidens were likewise married, one to the King’s Baker the other to his Cook, after a manner according to their several degrees in life and with little show of grandeur and circumstance. Now it had been only right and reasonable that these twain having won each her own wish, should have passed their time in solace and happiness, but the decree of Destiny doomed otherwise; and, as soon as they saw the grand estate whereto their youngest sister had risen, and the magnificence of her marriage-festival, their hearts were fired with envy and jealousy and sore despite and they resolved upon giving the rein to their hatred and malignancy
The end of the Six Hundred and Sixty-ninth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the two sisters took counsel each with other how they might abase their youngest sister in the Shah’s sight and cause her downfall and utter ruin. Day and night they conned over the matter in their minds and spoke at great length about it when they ever met together, and pondered endless plans to injure the Queen their sister, and if possible bring about her death; but they could fix upon none. And, whilst they bore this despite and hatred towards her and diligently and deliberately sought the means of gratifying their bitter envy, hatred and malice, she on the other hand regarded them with the same favour and affection as she had done before marriage and thought only how to advantage their low estate. Now when some months of her wedded life had passed, the fair Queen was found to be with child whereof the glad tidings filled the Shah with joy; and straightway he commanded all the people of the capital and throughout the while Empire keep holiday with feasts and dancing and every manner jollity as became so rare and important an occasion. But as soon as the news came to the ears of the two Envious Sisters they were constrained perforce to offer their congratulations to the Queen;
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventieth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the King, enflamed with sudden fierceness, drew his sword and would have slain his Queen had not the Grand Wazir, who happened to be in his presence at the time, restrained his rage and diverted him from his unjust design and barbarous purpose. Quoth he, “O Shadow of Allah upon earth, this mishap is ordained of the Almighty Lord whose will no man hath power to gainsay. The Queen is guiltless of offence against thee, for what is born of her is born without her choice, and she indeed hath no hand therein.” With this and other sage counsels he dissuaded his lord from carrying out his fell purpose and saved the guiltless Queen from a sudden and cruel death. Meanwhile the basket wherein lay the newly-born Prince was carried by the current into a rivulet which flowed through the royal gardens; and, as the Intendant of the pleasure grounds and pleasaunces chanced to walk along the bank, by the decree of Destiny he caught sight of the basket floating by, and he called a gardener, bidding him lay hold of it and bring it to him that he might see what was therein. The man ran along the rivulet side; and, with a long stick drawing the basket to land, showed it to the Intendant who opened it and beheld within a new-born babe, a boy of wondrous beauty wrapped in a bit of blanket; at which sight he was astounded beyond measure of surprise. Now it chanced that the Intendant, who was one of the Emirs and who stood high in favour with the Sovran, had no children: withal he never ceased offering prayers and vows to Almighty Allah that he might have a son to keep alive his memory and continue his name. Delighted at the sight he took home the basket with the babe and giving it to his wife said, “See how Allah hath sent to us this man-child which I just now found floating upon the waters; and do thou apply thee forthright and fetch a wet-nurse to give him milk and nourish him; and bring him up with care and tenderness as though he were thine own.” So the Intendant’s wife took charge of the child with great gladness and reared him with her whole heart, diligently as though born of her own womb; nor did the Intendant say aught to any, or seek to find out whose might be the child lest haply some one claim and take it from him. He was certified in his mind that the boy came from the Queen’s quarter of the palace, but deemed inexpedient to make too strict enquiry concerning the matter; and he and his spouse kept the secret with all secrecy. A year after this the Queen gave birth to a second son, when her sisters, the Satanesses full of spite, did with this babe, even as they had done by the first: they wrapped it in a cloth and set it in a basket which they threw into the stream, then gave out that the Queen had brought forth a kitten. But once more, by the mercy of Allah Almighty, this boy came to the hands of that same Intendant of the gardens who carried him
The End of the Six Hundred and Seventy-first Night.
Then said she—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the cage was made ready with all speed; and, when the forty days after purification of child-bed[FN#357] had come to an end, the Banu was locked therein; and, according to the King’s commandment, all who came to prayer in the Great Mosque would first spit in her face. The hapless woman, well knowing that she as not worthy of this ignominy, bore her sufferings with all patience and fortitude; nor were they few who deemed her blameless and undeserving to endure these torments and tortures inflicted upon her by the Shah; and they pitied her and offered prayers and made vows for her release. Meanwhile the Intendant of the gardens and his wife brought up the two Princes and the Princess with all love and tenderness; and, as the children grew in years, their love for these adopted ones increased in like proportion. They gave the eldest Prince the name Bahman,[FN#358], and to his brother Parwez,[FN#359], and as the maiden was of rare of beauty and passing of loveliness and graciousness, they called her Perizadah.[FN#360] When the Princes became of years to receive instruction, the Intendant of the gardens appointed tutors and masters to teach them reading and writing and all the arts and sciences: the Princess also, showing like eagerness to acquire knowledge, was taught letters by the same instructors, and soon could read and write with as perfect fluency and fluency as could her brothers. Then they were placed under the most learned of the Philosophers and the Olema, who taught them the interpretation of the Koran and the sayings of the Apostle; the science of geometry as well as poetry and history, and even the abstruse sciences and the mystic doctrines of the Enlightened; and their teachers were astonished to find how soon and how far all three made progress in their studies and bid fair to outstrip even the sages however learned. Moreover, they all three were reared to horsemanship and skill in the chase, to shooting with shafts and lunging with lance and sway with sabre and jerking the Jerid, with other manly and warlike sports. Besides all this the Princess Perizadah was taught to sing and play on various instruments of mirth and merriment, wherein she became the peerless pearl of her age and time. The Intendant was exceeding glad of heart to find his adopted children prove themselves such proficients in every branch of knowledge; and presently, forasmuch as his lodging was small and unfit for the growing family, he bought
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-second Night.
Then said she—I have heard, O auspicious King, that perchance an ancient woman of the Moslems, a recluse and a devotee, came to the door and begged leave to enter within and repeat her prayers, as it was then the canonical hour and she had but time to make the Wuzu-ablution. Perizadah bade being her and saluted her with the salam and kindly welcomed her; then, when the holy woman had made an end of her orisons, the handmaids of the Princess, at her command, conducted her all through the house and grounds, and displayed to her the rooms with their furniture and fittings, and lastly the garden and orchard and game-park. She was well pleased with all she saw and said within herself, “The man who built this mansion and laid out these parterres and vergiers was verily an accomplished artist and a wight of marvellous skill.” At last the slaves led her back to the Princess who, awaiting her return, was sitting in the belvedere; and quoth she to the devotee, “Come, O good my mother, do thou sit beside me and make me happy by the company of a pious recluse whom I am fortunate enough to have entertained unawares, and suffer I listen to thy words of grace and thereby gain no small advantage in this world and the next. Thou hast chosen the right path and straight whereon to walk, and that which all men strive for and pine for.” The holy woman would fain have seated herself at the feet of the Princess, but she courteously arose and took her by the hand and constrained her to sit beside her. Quoth she, “O my lady, mine eyes never yet beheld one so well-mannered as thou art: indeed, I am unworthy to sit with thee, natheless, as thou biddest, I will e’en do thy bidding.” As they sat conversing each with other the slave-girls set before them a table whereon were placed some platters of bread and cakes with saucers full of fruits both fresh and dried, and various kinds of cates and sweetmeats. The Princess took one of the cakes and giving it to the good woman said, “O my mother, refresh thyself herewith and eat of the fruits such as thou likest. ’Tis now long since thou didst leave thy home and I trow thou hast not tasted aught of food upon the road.” Replied the holy woman, “O lady of gentle birth, I am not wont to taste of dainty dishes such as these, but I can ill refuse thy provision, since Allah the Almighty deigneth send me food and support by so liberal and generous a hand as thine.” And when they twain had eaten somewhat and cheered their hearts, the Princess asked the devotee concerning the manner of her worship and of her austere life; whereto she made due answer and explained according to her knowledge. The Princess then exclaimed, “Tell me, I pray thee, what thou thinkest of this mansion and the fashion of its building and the furniture and the appurtenances; and say me is all perfect and appropriate, or is aught still lacking in mansion or garden?” And she replied, “Since thou deignest ask my opinion, I confess to thee that both the buildings and the parterres
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-third Night.
Then said she—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the holy woman thus answered the Princess, “These three rarities are not to be found, save on the boundary-line that lieth between the land of Hind and the confining countries, a score of marches along the road that leadeth Eastwards from this mansion. Let him who goeth forth in quest of them ask the first man he meeteth on the twentieth stage concerning the spot where he may find the Speaking-Bird, the Singing-Tree and the Golden-Water; and he will direct the seeker where to come upon all three.” When she had made an end of speaking the Devotee, with many blessings and prayers and vows for her well-being, farewelled the lady Perizadah and fared forth homewards. The Princess, however, ceased not to ponder her words and ever to dwell in memory upon the relation of the holy woman who, never thinking that her hostess had asked for information save by way of curiosity, nor really purposed in mind to set forth with intent of finding the rarities, ahd heedlessly told all she knew and had given a clue to the discovery. But Perizadah kept these matters deeply graven on the tablets of her heart with firm resolution to follow the directions and, by all means in her power, to
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-fourth Night.
Then she said—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Prince Bahman made answer in these words: “O sister mine, I am fully determined in mind to attempt this derring-do; be thou not however anxious or alarmed, for Inshallah—God willing—I shall return successful and triumphant. After my departure shouldst thou at any time feel in fear for my safety, then by this token which I leave thee thou shalt know of my fate and lot, good or evil.” Then, drawing from his waist-shawl a little hunting-knife like a whittle, he gave it to Princess Perizadah, saying, “Take now this blade and keep it ever by thee; and shouldst thou at any day or hour be solicitous concerning my condition, draw it from its sheath; and if the steel be clean and bright as ’tis now then know that I am alive and safe and sound; but an thou find stains of blood thereon then shalt thou know that I am slain, and naught remaineth for thee to do save to pray for me as for one dead.” With these words of solace the Prince departed on his journey, and travelled straight along the road to India, turning nor to right hand nor to left but ever keeping the same object in view. Thus a score of days was spent in journeying from the land of Iran, and upon the twentieth he reached the end of his travel. Here he suddenly sighted an ancient man of frightful aspect sitting beneath a tree hard by his thatched hut wherein he was wont to shelter himself from the rains of spring and the heats of summer and the autumnal miasmas and the wintry frosts. So shotten in years was this Shaykh that hair and beard, mustachios and whiskers were white as snow, and the growth of his upper lip was so long and so thick that it covered and concealed his mouth, while his beard swept the ground and the nails of his hands and feet had grown to resemble the claws of a wild beast. Upon his
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-Fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Prince, turning to the Darwaysh, continued, “O Devotee, albeit well I wot that the three things I seek are in this land and nearhand, yet I know not the exact spot wherein to find them. An thou have true information concerning the place and will inform me thereof, I on my part will never forget thy kindness, and I shall have the satisfaction of feeling that this long and toilsome wayfare hath not been wholly vain.” Hearing these words of the Prince, the Darwaysh changed countenance and his face waxed troubled and his colour wan; then he bent his glance downwards and sat in deepest silence. Whereat the other said, “O holy father, dost thou not understand the words wherewith I have bespoken thee? An thou art ignorant of the matter prithee let me know straightway that I may again fare onwards until such time as I find a man who can inform me thereof.” After a long pause the Darwaysh made reply, “O stranger, ’tis true I ken full well the site whereof thou are in search; but I hold thee dear in that thou hast been of service to me; and I am loath for thine own sake to tell thee where to find that stead.” And the Prince rejoined, “Say me, O Fakir, why dost thou withhold this knowledge from me, and wherefore art thou not lief to let me learn it?” Replied the other, “’Tis a hard road to travel and full of perils and dangers. Besides thyself many have come hither and have asked the path of me, and I refused to tell them, but they heeded not my warning and pressed me sore and compelled me to disclose the secret which I would have buried in my breast. Know, O my son, that all those braves have perished in their pride and not one of them hath returned to me safe and sound. Now, an thy life be dear to thee, follow my counsel and fare no further, but rather turn thee back without stay or delay and make for house and home and family.” Hereto Prince Bahman, stern in resolution, made reply, “Thou hast after kindly guise and friendly fashion advised me with the best of advice; and I, having heard all thou hast to day, do thank thee gratefully. But I reck not one jot or tittle of what dangers affront me, nor shall thy threats however fatal deter me from my purpose: moreover, if thieves or foemen haply fall upon me, I am armed at point and can and will protect myself, for I am certified that none can outvie me in strength and stowre.” To this the Fakir made reply, “The beings who will cut thy path and bar thy progress to that place are unseen of man, nor will they appear to thee on any wise: how then canst thou defend thyself against them?” And he replied, “So be it, still I fear not and I pray thee only show me the road thither.” When the Darwaysh was assured that the Prince had fully determined in mind to attempt the exploit and would by no means turn or be turned back from carrying out his purpose, he thrust his hand into a bag which lay hard by and took therefrom a ball, and said, “Alas,
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Prince made answer to the Darwaysh, “Until, O thou holy man, such time as I win to my purpose I will not go back; no, never; therefore adieu.” So he mounted his horse and threw the ball in front of him; and it rolled forward at racing-speed and he, with gaze intent thereupon, rode after it and did not suffer it to gain upon him. When it had reached the hill whereof the Darwaysh spake, it ceased to make further way, whereupon the Prince dismounted and throwing the reins on his horse’s neck left him and fared on afoot to the slope. As far as he could see, the line of his path from the hill-foot to the head was strown with a scatter of huge black boulders; withal his heart felt naught of fear. He had not taken more than some four or five paces before a hideous din and a terrible hubbub of many voices arose, even as the Darwaysh had forewarned him. Prince Bahman, however, walked on valiantly with front erect and fearless tread, but he saw no living thing and heard only the Voices[FN#362]
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Darwaysh strave to stay Prince Parwez from his design and shewed him all the dangers on the way. Quoth he, “Not many days ago one like unto thee in years and in features came hither and enquired of me concerning the matter you now seekest. I warned him of the perils of the place and would have weaned him from his wilful ways, but he paid no wise heed to my warnings and refused to accept my counsel. He went off with full instructions from me on how to find those things he sought; but as yet he hath not returned, and doubtless he also hath perished like the many who preceded him upon that perilous enterprise.” Then said Prince Parwez, “O holy father, I know the man of whom thou speakest, for that he was my brother; and I learned that he was dead, but have no inkling of the cause whereby he died.” Replied the Darwaysh, “O my lord, I can inform thee on this matter; he hath been transmewed into a black stone, like the others of whom I just now spake to thee. If thou wilt not accept my advice and act accordingly to my counsel thou also shalt perish by the same means as did thy brother; and I solemnly forewarn thee to desist
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-eight Night.
Then said she: I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princess Perizadah was sore grieved at so sudden a blow and said to herself, “Ah! Woe is me and well-away! How bitter will be living without the love of such brothers whose youthtide was sacrificed for me! ’Tis but right that I share their fate whate’er be my lot; else what shall I have to say on the Day of Doom and the Resurrection of the Dead and the Judgment of Mankind?” Wherefore next morning, without further let or stay, she donned disguise of man’s attire; and, warning her women and slaves that she would be absent on an errand for a term of days during which they would be in charge of the house and goods, she mounted her hackney and set out alone and unattended. Now, inasmuch as she was skilled in horsemanship and had been wont to accompany her brothers when hunting and hawking, she was better fitted than other women to bear the toils and travails of travel. So on the twentieth day she arrived safe and sound at the hermitage-hut where, seeing the same Shaykh, she took seat beside him and after salaaming to him and greeting him she asked him, “O holy father, suffer me to rest and refresh myself awhile in this site of good omen; then deign point out to me, I pray thee, the direction of the place, at no far distance herefrom, wherein are found a certain Speaking-Bird and a Singing-Tree and a Golden-Water. An thou wilt tell me I shall deem this the greatest of favour.” Replied the Darwaysh, “Thy voice revealeth to me that thou art a woman and no man, albeit attired in male’s apparel. Well I wot the stead whereof thou speakest and which containeth the marvellous things thou hast named. But say me, what is thy purpose in asking me?” The Princess made reply, “I have been told many a tale anent these rare and wondrous things, and I would fain get possession of them and bear them to my home and make them its choicest adornments.” And said the Fakir, “O my daughter, in very truth these matters are exceeding rare and admirable: right fit are they for fair ones like thyself to win and take back with thee, but thou hast little inkling of the dangers manifold and dire that encompass them. Better far were it for thee to cast away this vain thought and go back by the road thou camest.” Replied the Princess, “O holy father and far-famed anchorite, I come from a distant land whereto I will nevermore return, except after winning my wish; no, never! I pray thee tell me the nature of those dangers and what they be, that hearing thereof my heart may judge if I have or have not the strength and the spirit to meet them.” Then the Shaykh described to the Princess all the risks of the road as erst he had informed Princes Bahman and Parwez; and he ended with saying, “The dangers will display themselves as soon as thou shalt begin to climb the hill-head where is the home of the Speaking-Bird. Then, if thou be fortunate enough to seize him, he
The end of the Six Hundred and Seventy-ninth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princess after farewelling the Fakir straightway bestrode her steed and threw the ball in front of his hooves as she had been bidden do. It rolled along before her in the direction of the hill and she urged her hackney to keep up with it, until reaching the hill it suddenly stopped. Hereat the Princess dismounted forthwith and having carefully plugged both her ears with cotton, began to breast the slope with fearless heart and dauntless soul; and as soon as she had advanced a few steps a hubbub of voices broke out all around her, but she heard not a sound, by reason of her hearing being blunted by the cotton-wool. Then hideous cries arose with horrid din, still she heard them not; and at last they grew to a storm of shouts and shrieks and groans and moans flavoured with foul language such as shameless women use when railing one at other. She caught now and then an echo of the sounds but recked naught thereof and only laughed and said to herself, “What care I for their scoffs and jeers and fulsome taunts? Let them hoot on and bark and bay as they may: this at least shall not turn me from my purpose.” As she approached the goal the path became perilous in the extreme and the air was so filled with an infernal din and such awful sounds that even Rustam would have quailed thereat and the bold spirit of Asfandiyar[FN#365] have quaked with terror. The Princess, however, pressed on with uttermost speed and dauntless heart till she neared the hill-top and espied above her the cage in which the Speaking-Bird was singing with melodious tones; but, seeing the Princess draw nigh, he broke out despite his puny form in thundering tones and cried, “Return, O fool: hie thee back not dare come nearer.” Princess Perizadah heeded not his clamour a whit but bravely reached the hill-top, and running over the level piece of ground made for the cage and seized it saying, “At last I have thee and thou shalt not escape me.” She then pulled out the cotton-wool wherewith she had stopped her ears, and heard the Speaking-Bird reply in gentle accents, “O lady valiant and noble, be of good cheer for no harm or evil shall betide thee, as hath happened to those who essayed to make me their prize. Albeit I am encaged I have much secret knowledge of what happeneth in the world of men and I an content to become thy slave, and for thee to be my liege lady. Moreover I am more familiar with all that concerneth thee even than thou art thyself; and one day of the days I will do thee a service which shall deserve thy gratitude. What is now thy command? Speak that I may fulfil thy wish.” Princess Perizadah was gladdened by these words, but in the midst of her joy she grieved at the thought of how she had lost her brothers whom she loved with a love so dear, and anon she said to the Speaking-Bird, “Full many a thing I want, but first tell me of the Golden-Water, of which I have heard so much,
The end of the Six Hundred and Eightieth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Speaking-Bird replied, “O Princess, trouble not thyself, the thing is easy. Sprinkle some of the Golden-Water from the flagon upon the black stones lying round about, and by virtue thereof each and every shall come to life again, thy two brothers as well as the others.” So Princess Perizadah’s heart was set at rest and taking the three prizes with her she fared forth and scattered a few drops from the silver flagon upon each black stone as she passed it when, lo and behold! they came to life as men and horses. Amongst them were her brothers who she at once knew and falling on their necks she embraced them, and asked in tones of surprise, “O my brothers, what do ye here?” To this they answered, “We lay fast asleep.” Quoth she, “Strange indeed that ye take delight in slumber away from me and ye forget the purpose wherefor ye left me; to wit, the winning of the Speaking-Bird and the Singing-Tree and the Golden-Water. Did ye not see this place all bestrown with dark hued rocks? Look now and say if there be aught left of them. These men and horses now standing around us were all black stones as ye yourselves also were; but, by the boon of Almighty Allah, all have come to life again and await the signal to depart. And if now ye wish to learn by what strange miracle both ye and they have recovered human shape, know ye
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-first Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that all the company rode on, and as each one arrived at the road which led him to his natal land he took leave of the Lady Perizadah and went his way, until all were gone and the Princess and her brothers were the only left. At last they reached their journey’s end safe and sound, and on entering their mansion Perizadah hung the cage inside the garden hard by the belvedere and no sooner did the Speaking-Bird begin to sing than flights of ring-doves and bulbuls and nightingales and skylarks and parrots and other songsters came flocking around him from afar and anear. Likewise she set the twig, which she had taken from the Singing-Tree, in a choice parterre also hard by the belvedere, and forthright it took root and put forth boughs and buds and grew goodly in growth, till it became a trunk as large as that from which she had plucked the twig, whilst from its leafage went forth bewitching sounds rivalling the music of the parent tree. She lastly bid them carve her a basin of pure white marble and set it in the centre of the pleasure grounds; then she poured therein the Golden-Water and forthright it filled the bowl and sot upwards like a spouting fountain some twenty feet in height; moreover the gerbes and jets fell back whence they came and not one drop was lost: whereby the working of the waters was unbroken and ever similar. Now but few days passed ere the report of these three wonders was bruited abroad and flocked the folk daily from the city to solace themselves with the sight, and the gates stood always open wide and all who came had entrance to the house and gardens and free leave to walk about at will and see these rarities which affected them with admiration and delight. Then also, as soon as both the Princes had recovered from the toils of travel, they began to go a-hunting as heretofore; and it chanced one day they rode forth several miles from home and were both busies in the chase, when the Shah of Iran-land came by decree of Destiny to the same place for the same purpose. The Princes, seeing a band of knights and huntsmen drawing near, were fain to ride home and to avoid such meeting; so they left the hunting-grounds and turned them homewards. But as Fate and lot would have it they hit upon the very road whereby King Khusrau Shah was coming, and so narrow was the path that they could not avoid the horsemen by wheeling round and wending another way. So they drew rein perforce and dismounting the salaamed and did obeisance to the Shah and stood between his hands with heads held low. The Sovran, seeing the horses’ fine trappings and the Princes’ costly garments, thought that the two youths were in the suite of his Wazirs and his Ministers of state and much wished to look upon their faces; he therefore bade them raise their heads and stand upright in the presence and they obeyed his bidding with modest mien and downcast
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-Second Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that Khusrau Shah, astonished at their refusal, asked the cause thereof when Prince Bahman answered, “May I be thy sacrifice,[FN#367] O King of kings, we have at home an only sister; and all three are bound together with bonds of the fondest affection; so we brothers go not anywhere without consulting her nor doth she aught save according to our counsel.” The King was pleased to see such fraternal love and union and presently quoth he, “By the head of
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-third Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that early next day the two Princes Bahman and Parwez rode as aforetime to the hunting-ground and met Khusrau Shah, who asked them, saying, “What answer bring ye from your sister?” Hereupon the elder brother advancing said, “O shadow of Allah, verily we are thy slaves and whatever thou deign bid that we are ready to obey. These less than the least have referred the matter to their sister and have obtained their consent; nay more, she blamed and chided them for that they did not hurry to carry out the commands of the Refuge of the World the moment they were delivered. Therefore being sore displeased at us, she desireth us on her behalf to plead forgiveness with the Shahinshah[FN#372] for this offence by us offered.” Replied the King, “No crime have ye committed to call forth the royal displeasure: nay more, it delighteth the Shadow of Allah exceedingly to see the love ye twain bear towards your sister.” Hearing such words of condescension and kindliness from the Shah, the Princes held their peace and hung their heads for shame groundwards; and the King who that day was not keen, according to his custom, after the chase, whenever he saw the brothers hold aloof, called them to his presence and heartened their hearts with words of favour; and presently, when a-weary of sport, he turned the head of his steed palace-ward and deigned order the Princes to ride by his side. The Wazirs and Councillors and Courtiers one and all fumed with envy and jealousy to see two unknowns entreated
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-fourth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princes both approved of her plan and went to seek repose; whereupon Perizadah sent for the cage and setting it before her said, “O Bird, the Shah hath made a promise and hath decreed that he will deign honour this our house on the morrow, wherefore we must needs make ready for our liege lord the best of banquets and I bid thee say me what dishes should the kitcheners cook for him?” The Speaking-Bird replied, “O my lady, thou hast the most skilful of cooks and confectioners. Do thou bid them dress for thee the choicest dainties, but above all others see thou with thine own eyes that they set before the Shah a dish of new green cucumbers stuffed with pearls.” Quoth the Princess in utter wonderment, “Never until this time heard I of such a dainty! How? Cucumbers with a filling of pearls! And what will the King, who cometh to eat bread and not to gaze on stones, say to such meat? Furthermore, I have not in my possession pearls enough to serve for even a single cucumber.” Replied the Speaking-Bird, “This were an easy matter: do thou dread naught but only act as I shall advise thee. I seek not aught save thy welfare and would on no wise counsel thee to thy disadvantage. As for the pearls thou shalt collect them on this wise: go thou to-morrow betimes to the pleasure-gardens and bid a hole be dug at the foot of the first tree in the avenue by thy right hand, and there shalt thou find of pearls as large a store as thou shalt require.”
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-fifth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the head Cook listened to this order of the Princess with wonderment and said in himself, “Who ever heard of such a dish or dreamed of ordering such a one.” The Lady seeing his astonishment betrayed in his semblance without the science of thought-reading,[FN#374] said to him, “It seemeth from thy countenance that thou deemest me daft of wit to give thee such order. I know that no one ever tasted a dish of the kind, but what is that to thee? Do thou e’en as thou art bidden. Thou seest this box brimful on pearls; so take of them as many as thou needest for the dish, and what remaineth over leave in the box.” The Kitchener who could answer nothing in his confusion and amazement, chose as many precious stones as he required, and presently fared away to superintend the meats being cooked and made ready for the feast. Meanwhile the Princess when over the house and grounds and gave directions to the slaves about the ordinance thereof, leading especial attention to the carpets and divans, the lamps and all other furniture. Next day at break of dawn Princes Bahman and Parwez rode forth in rich attire to the appointed place where they first met the Shah, who was also punctual to his promise and vouchsafed to join them in the hunt. Now when the sun had risen high and its rays waxed hot, the King gave up the chase, and set forth with the Princes to their house; and as they drew nigh thereto the cadet pushed forwards and sent word to the Princess that the Asylum of the World was coming in all good omen. Accordingly, he hastened to receive him and stood waiting his arrival at the inner entrance; and after, when the King rode up to the gate and dismounting within the court stepped over the threshold of the house-door, she fell down at his feet and did worship. Hereat her brothers said, “O Asylum of the World, this is our sister of whom we spake;” and the Shah with gracious kindness and condescension raised her by the hand, and when he saw her face he marvelled much at its wondrous comeliness and loveliness. He thought in himself, “How like she is to her brothers in favour and form, and I trow there be none of all my lieges in city or country who can compare with them for beauty and noble bearing. This country-house also exceedeth all that I have ever seen in splendour and grandeur.” The Princess then led the Shah through the house and showed him all the magnificence thereof, while he rejoiced with extreme joy at everything
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-sixth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Princess took the King and when she had shown to him the Speaking-Bird, they returned to the garden where he never ceased considering the fountain with extreme surprise and presently exclaimes, “How is this? No spring whence cometh all this water meeteth the Shah’s eye, and no channel; nor is there any reservoir large enough to contain it.” She replied, “Thou speakest sooth, O King of kings! This jetting font hath no source; and it springeth from a small marble basin which I filled from a single flagon of the Golden-Water; and by the might of Allah Almighty it increased and waxed copious until it shot up in this huge gerbe which the Shah seeth. Furthermore it ever playeth day and night; and, marvellous to relate, the water falling back from that height into the basin minisheth not in quantity nor is aught of it spilt or wasted.” Hereat the King, filled with wonder and astonishment, bade go back to the Speaking-Bird; whereupon the Princess led him to the belvedere whence he looked out upon thousands of all manner fowls carolling in the trees and filling air with their hymns and prises of the Creator; so he asked his guide, “O my lady, whence come these countless songsters which haunt yonder tree and make the welkin resound with their melodious notes; yet they affect none other of the trees?” Quoth Perizadah, “O King of kings, they are all attracted by the Speaking-Bird and flock hither to accompany his song; and for that his cage hangeth to the window of this belvedere they prefer only the nearest of the trees; and here he may be heard singing sweeter notes than any of the others, nay in a plaint more musical than that of any nightingale.” And as the Shah drew nigh the cage and gave ear to the Bird’s singing, the Princess called to her captive saying, “Ho, my slave the Bird, dost thou not perceive the Asylum of the Universe is here that thou payest him not due homage and worship?” Hearing these words the Speaking-Bird forthright ceased his shrilling and at the same moment all the other songsters sat in deepest silence; for they were loyal to their liege lord nor durst any one utter a note when he held his peace. The Speaking-Bird then spake in human voice saying, “O great King, may Almighty Allah by His Might and Majesty accord thee health and happiness;” so the Shah returned the salutation and the Slave of Princess Perizadah ceased not to shower blessings upon his head. Meanwhile the tables were spread after sumptuous fashion and the choicest meats were set before the company which was seated in due order and degree, the Shah placing himself hard by the Speaking-Bird and close to the casement where the cage was hung. Then the dish of green cucumbers having been set before him, he put forth his hand to help himself, but drew it back in wonderment when he saw that the cucumbers, ranged in order upon the plate, were stuffed with
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-seventh Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King, that the Speaking-Bird also said to Khusrau Shah, “These two royal brothers so comely and stalwart and this lovely Princess, their sister, are thine own lawful children to whom the Queen thy Consort gave birth. The midwives, thy sisters-in-law, by reason of the blackness of their hearts and faces bore them away as soon as they were born: indeed every time a child was given to thee they wrapped it in a bit of blanket and putting it in a basket committed it to the stream which floweth by the palace to the intent that it might die an obscure death. But it so fortuned that the Intendant of thy royal gardens espied these baskets one and all as they floated past his grounds, and took charge of the infants he found therein. He then caused them to be nursed and reared with all care and, whilst they were growing up to man’s estate, he looked to their being taught every art and science; and whilst his life endured he dealt with them and brought them up in
The end of the Six Hundred and Eighty-eighth Night.
Then said she:—I have heard, O auspicious King that the King spake kindly and fondly to his Consort, and told her all that had betided him, and what the Speaking-Bird had made known to him, ending with these words, “Come now with me to the palace where thou shalt thee thy two sons and daughter grown up to become the loveliest of things. Hie with me and embrace them and take them to thy bosom, for they are our children, the light of our etes. But first do thou repair to the Hammam and don thy royal robes and jewels.” Meanwhile tidings of these events were noised about the city how the King had at length shown due favour to the Queen, and had released her from bondage with his own hands and prayed forgiveness for the wrongs he had done to her; and how the Princes and the Princess had been proved to be her true-born children, and also how Khusrau Shah had punished her sisters who conspired against her; so joy and gladness prevailed both in city and kingdom, and all the folk blessed the Shah’s Banu and cursed the Satanesses her sisters. And next day when the Queen had bathed in the Hammam and had donned royal dress and regal jewels, she went to meet her children together with the King who led up to her the Princes Bahman and Parwez and the Princess Perizadah and said, “See, here are thy children, fruit of thy womb and core of thy heart, thine own very sons and thy daughter: embrace them with all a mother’s love and extend thy favour and affection to them even as I have done. When thou didst give them birth, thine illomened sisters bore them away from thee and cast them into yonder stream and said that thou hadst been delivered first of a puppy, then of a kitten and lastly of a musk-ratling. I cannot console myself for having credited their calumnies and the only recompense I can make is to place in thine embrace these three thou broughtest forth, and whom Allah Almighty hath restored to us and hath made right worthy to be called our children.” Then the Princes and Princess fell upon their mother’s neck and fondly embraced her weeping tear-floods of joy. After this the Shah and the Banu sai down to meat together with their children; and when they had made an end of eating, King Khusrau Shah repaired to the garden with his Consort that he might show her the Singing-Tree and the fountain of Golden-Water, whereat the Queen was filled with wonder and delight. Next they turned to the belvedere and visited the Speaking-Bird of whom, as they sat at meat, the King had spoken to her in highest praise, and the Queen rejoiced in his sweet voice and melodious singing. And when they had seen all these things, the King mounted horse, Prince Bahman riding on his right hand and on his left Prince Parwez, while the Queen took Princess Perizadah with her inside her litter, and thus they set forth for the palace. As the royal cavalcade passed the city walls and entered the capital with royal pomp and circumstance, the subjects who had heard the glad tidings thronged in multitudes
End of Volume 9.
Appendix.
Variants and analogues of the tales In volume xiii.
By W. A. Clouston.
The Tale of Zayn Al-Asnam—p. 1.
This story is a compound of two distinct tales, namely, the Dream of Riches and the Quest of the Ninth Image. It has always been one of the most popular of the tales in our common version of the “Arabian Nights,” with this advantage, that it is perhaps the only one of the whole collection in which something like a moral purpose may be discovered—“a virtuous woman is more precious than fine gold.” Baron de Sacy has remarked of The Nights, that in the course of a few years after Galland’s version appeared “it filled Europe with its fame, though offering no object of moral or philosophical interest, and detailing stories merely for the pleasure of relating them.” But this last statement is not quite accurate: Shahrazad relates her stories merely to prolong her own life.
It is a curious fact—and one perhaps not very generally known—that the Tale of Zayn al-Asnam is one of two (the other being that of Khudadad) which Galland repudiated, as having been foisted into his 8th volume without his knowledge, as he expressly asserts in the “Avertissement” to the 9th vol., promising to remove them in a second edition, which, however, he did not live to see. I understand that M. Herrmann Zotenberg purposes showing, in his forthcoming edition of “Aladdin,” that these two histoires (including that of the Princess of Daryabar, which is interwoven with the tale of Khudadad and his Brothers) were Turkish tales translated by M. Petis de la Croix and were intended to appear in his “Mille et un Jours,” which was published, after his death, in 1710; and that, like most of the tales in that work, they were derived from the Turkish collection entitled “Al-Faraj ba’d al-Shiddah,” or Joy after Affliction. But that Turkish story-book is said to be a translation of the Persian collection entitled “Hazar u Yek Ruz” (the Thousand and One Days), which M. Petis rendered into French.
In the preface to Petis’ work it is stated that during his residence in Persia, in 1675, he made a transcript of the “Hazar u Yek Ruz,” by permission of the author, a dervish named Mukhlis, of Isfahan. That transcript has not, I understand, been found; but Sir William Ouseley brought a manuscript from Persia which contained a portion of the “Hazar u Yek Ruz,” and which he says ("Travels” vol. ii. p. 21, note) agreed so far with the French version. And it does seem strange that Petis should go to the Turkish book for tales to include in his “Mille et un Jours” when he had before him a complete copy of the Persian original, and even if he did so, how came his French rendering of the tales in question into the hands of Galland’s publisher? The tales are not found in Petis’ version, which is regularly divided into 1001 Days, and the Turkish work, judging from the titles of the eleven first tales, of which I have seen a transcript by M. Zotenberg, has a number of stories which do not occur in the Persian.[FN#375] But I think it very unlikely that the tales of Khudadad and the Princess foisted into Galland’s 8th volume, were translated from the Turkish collection. In Galland the story of the Princess Daryabar is inserted in that of Khudadad; while in the Turkish story-book they are separate tales, the 6th recital being under the title, “Of the Vazir with the Daughter of the Prince of Daryaban,” and the 9th story is “Of the Sons of the Sovereign of Harran with Khudadad.” This does not seem to support the assertion that these tales in Galland were derived from the Turkish versions: and it is not to be supposed, surely, that the translator of the versions in Galland conceived the idea of fusing the two stories together?
The first part of the tale of Zaun al-Asnam—the Dream of Riches—is an interesting variant of the tale in The Nights, vol. iv. p. 289, where (briefly to recapitulate, for purposes of comparison by-and-by) a man of Baghdad, having lost all his wealth and become destitute, dreams one night that a figure appeared before him and told him that his fortune was in Cairo. To that city he went accordingly, and as it was night when he arrived, he took shelter in a mosque. A party of thieves just then had got into an adjacent house from that same mosque, and the inmates, discovering them, raised such an outcry as to bring the police at once on the spot. The thieves contrive to get away, and the wali, finding only the man of Baghdad in the mosque, causes him to be seized and severely beaten after which he sends him to prison, where the poor fellow remains thirty days, when the wali sends for him and begins to question him. The man tells his story, at which the wali laughs, calls him an ass for coming so far because of a dream, and adds that he himself had had a similar dream of a great treasure buried in the garden of such a house in Baghdad, but he was not so silly as to go there. The poor man recognises his own house and garden from the wali’s description, and being set at liberty returns to Baghdad, and finds the treasure on the very spot indicated.
Lane, who puts this story (as indeed he has done with much better ones) among his notes, states that it is also related by El-Ishaki, who flourished during the reign of the Khalif El-Ma’mun (9th century), and his editor Edward Stanley Poole adds that he found it also in a Ms. of Lane’s entitled “Murshid ez-Zuwar ila el-Abrar,” with the difference that it is there related of an Egyptian saint who travelled to Baghdad, and was in the same manner directed to his own house in El-Fustat.
The same story is told in the 6th book of the “Masnavi,” an enormously long sufi poem, written in Persian, by Jelad ed-Din, the founder of the sect of Muslim devotees generally known in Europe as the Dancing Dervishes, who died in 1272. This version differs from the Arabian in but a few and unimportant details: Arriving at Cairo, destitute and hungry, he resolves to beg when it is dark, and is wandering about, “one foot forward, one foot backwards,” for a third of the night, when suddenly a watchman pounces on him and beats him with fist and stick—for the people having been plagued with robbers, the Khalif had given orders to cut off the head of any one found abroad at night. The wretched man begs for mercy till he has told his story, and when he has finished the watchman acquaints him of a similar dream he had had of treasure at Baghdad.[FN#376]
A Turkish variant occurs in the “History of the Forty Vazirs,” where a poor water-carrier of Cairo, named Nu’man, presents his son’s teacher with his only camel, which he used daily for carrying his skins of water, as a reward for instructing the lad in the Kuran, and his wife rails at him for his folly in no measured terms. In his sleep a white haired old man appears to him in a dream and tells him to go to Damascus, where he would find his portion. After this has occurred three times in succession, poor Nu’man, spite of his wife’s remonstrances, sets out for Damascus, enters a mosque there, and receives a loaf of bread from a man who had been baking, and having eaten it falls asleep. Returning home, his wife reviles him for giving away a camel and doing other mad things. But again the venerable old man appears to him thrice in a dream, and bids him dig close by himself, and there he would find his provision. When he takes shovel and pick-axe to dig, his wife’s tongue is more bitter than before, and after he had laboured a while and begins to feel somewhat fatigued, when he asks her to take a short spell at the work, she mocks him and calls him anything but a wise man. But on his laying bare a stone slab, she thinks there must be something beneath it, and offers to relieve him. “Nu’man,” quoth she “thou’rt weary now.” “No, I’m rested, says he. In the end he discovers a well, goes down into it, and finds a jar full of sequins, upon seeing which his wife clasps him lovingly round the neck, exclaiming, “O my noble little hubby! Blessed be God for thy luck and thy fortune!” Her tune changes, however, when the honest water-carrier tells her that he means to carry the treasure to the King, which he does, and the King having caused the money to be examined, the treasure is found to have the following legend written on it: “This is an alms from God to Nu’man, by reason of his respect for the Kuran."[FN#377]
This curious story, which dates, as we have seen, at least as far back as the 9th century appears to be spread over Europe. Mr. E. Sidney Hartland, in an able paper treating of several of its forms in “The Antiquary” for February, 1887, pp. 45-48, gives a Sicilian version from Dr. Pitre’s collection, which is to this effect:
A poor fellow at Palermo, who got his living by salting tunny and selling it afterwards dreamt one night that a person came to him and said that if he wished to find his fortune he would find it under the bridge of the Teste. Thither he goes and sees a man in rags and is beginning to retire when the man calls him back, informs him that he is his fortune and bids him go at midnight of that same night to the place where he had deposited his casks of tunny, dig there, and whatever he found was his own. The tunny-seller gets a pick-axe and at midnight begins to dig. He comes upon a large flat stone, which he raises and discovers a staircase; he descends, and at the bottom finds an immense treasure of gold. In brief, he becomes so rich that he lends the King of Spain “a million,” to enable him to carry on his wars; the King makes him Viceroy of Sicily, and by-and by, being unable to repay the loan, raises him to the highest royal dignities.
Johannes Fungerus, in his “Etymologicon Latino-Graecum,” published at Leyden in 1607, in art. Somnus, gravely relates the story, with a young Dutchman for the hero and as having happened “within the memory of our fathers, both as it has been handed down in truthful and honourable fashion as well as frequently told to me."[FN#378] His “true story” may thus be rendered:
A certain young man of Dort, in Holland, had squandered his wealth and all his estate and having contracted a debt, was unable to pay it. A certain one appeared to him in a dream, and advised him to betake himself to Kempen, and there on the bridge he would receive information from some one as to the way in which he should be extricated from his difficulties. He went there, and when he was in a sorrowful mood and thinking upon what had been told him and promenaded almost the whole day, a common beggar, who was asking alms, pitying his condition, sat down and asked him, “Why so sad?” Thereupon the dreamer explained to him his sad and mournful fate, and why he had come there forsooth, under the impulse of a dream, he had set out thither, and was expecting God as if by a wonder, to unravel this more than Gordian knot. The mendicant answered “Good Heaven! are you so mad and foolish as to rely on a dream, which is emptier than nothing, and journey hither? I should betake myself to Dort, to dig up a treasure buried under such a tree in such a man’s garden (now this garden had belonged to the dreamer’s father), likewise revealed to me in a dream.” The other remained silent and pondering all that had been said to him, then hastened with all speed to Dort, and under the aforesaid tree found a great heap of money, which freed him from his obligations, and having paid off all his debts, he set up in a more sumptuous style than before.
The second part of the tale, or novelette, of “The Spectre Barber,” by Musaeus (1735-1788), is probably an elaboration of some German popular legend closely resembling the last-cited version, only in this instance the hero does not dream, but is told by a ghost, in reward for a service he had done it (or him), to tarry on the great bridge over the Weser, at the time when day and night are equal, for a friend who would instruct him what he must do to retrieve his fortune. He goes there at dawn, and walks on the bridge till evening comes, when there remained no one but himself and a wooden legged soldier to whom he had given a small coin in the early morning, and who ventured at length to ask him why he had promenaded the bridge all day. The youth at first said he was waiting for a friend, but on the old soldier remarking that he could be no friend who would keep him waiting so long, he said that he had only dreamt he was to meet some friend (for he did not care to say anything about his interview with the ghost), the old fellow observed that he had had many dreams, but put not the least faith in them. “But my dream,” quoth the youth, “was a most remarkable one.” “It couldn’t have been so remarkable as one I had many years ago,” and so on, as usual, with this addition, that the young man placed the old soldier in a snug little cottage and gave him a comfortable annuity for life—taking care, we may be sure, not to tell him a word as to the result of acting upon his dream.
To what extent Musaeus has enlarged his original material it is impossible to say; but it is well known that, like Hans Andersen in later times, he did “improve and add to such popular tales and traditions as he dealt with—a circumstance which renders him by no means trustworthy for folk-lore purposes.
In Denmark our well-travelled little tale does duty in accounting for the building of a parish church, as we learn from Thorpe, in his “Northern Mythology,” vol. ii. p. 253:
Many years ago there lived in Erritso, near Frederica, a very poor man who one day said, “If I had a large sum of money, I would build a church for the parish.” The following night he dreamed that if he went to the south bridge at Veile he would make his fortune. He followed the intimation and strolled backwards and forwards on the bridge until it grew late, but without seeing any sign of good fortune. When just on the point of returning, he was accosted by an officer, who asked him why he had spent a whole day so on the bridge. He told him his dream, on hearing which the officer related to him in return that he also on the preceding night had dreamed that in a barn in Erritso, belonging to a man whose name he mentioned, a treasure lay buried. Now the name he mentioned was the man’s own, who prudently kept his own counsel, hastened home, and found the treasure in a barn. The man was faithful to his word, and built the church.[FN#379]
Equally at home, as we have seen, in Sicily, Holland, Germany, and Denmark, the identical legend is also domiciled in Scotland and England. Thus Robert Chambers, in his “Popular Rhymes of Scotland,” ed. 1826, p. 56, speaking of Dundonald Castle, in Ayrshire, the ancient seat of King Robert ii., relates the following local tradition:
Donald, the builder, was originally a poor man, but had the faculty of dreaming lucky dreams. Upon one occasion he dreamed thrice in one night that if he were to go to London Bridge he would make a fortune. He went accordingly, and saw a man looking over the parapet of the bridge, whom he accosted courteously, and after a little conversation, intrusted him with the secret of the occasion of his visiting London Bridge. The stranger told him that he had made a very foolish errand, for he had himself once had a similar vision, which directed him to go to a certain spot in Ayrshire, in Scotland, where he would find a vast treasure, and for his part he had never once thought of obeying the injunction. From his description of the spot, however, the sly Scot at once perceived that the treasure in question must be concealed nowhere but in his own humble kail-yard at home, to which he immediately repaired, in full expectation of finding it. Nor was he disappointed; for after destroying many good and promising cabbages, and completely cracking credit with his wife, who considered him as mad, he found a large potful of gold coin, with which he built a stout castle for himself, and became the founder of a flourishing family.
“This absurd story,” adds Chambers, “is localised in almost every district of Scotland always referring to London Bridge, and Hogg (the Ettrick Shepherd) has worked up the fiction in a very amusing manner in one of his ’Winter Evening Tales,’ substituting the Bridge at Kelso for that of London.”
But the legend of the Chapman, or Pedlar, of Swaffam, in Norfolk, handed down, as it has been, from one credulous generation to another, with the most minute details and perfect local colour, throws quite into the shade all other versions or variants of the ancient tale of the poor man of Baghdad. Blomfield, in his “History of Norfolk,” 8vo ea., vol. vi. 211-213, reproduces it as follows, from Sir Roger Twysden’s “Reminiscences”:
“The story of the Pedlar of Swaffam Market is in substance this: That dreaming one night, if he went to London, he should certainly meet with man upon London Bridge which should tell him good news; he was so perplexed in his mind that till he set upon his journey he could have no rest. To London therefore he hastes, and walked upon the Bridge for some hours, where being espied by a shopkeeper and asked what he wanted, he answered, ’You may well ask me that question, for truly (quoth he) I am come hither upon a very vain errand,’ and so told the story of his dream which occasioned his journey. Whereupon the shopkeeper replied, ’Alas, good friend, should I have heeded dreams I might have proved myself as very a fool as thou hast; for ’tis not long since that I dreamt that at a place called Swaffam Market, in Norfolk, dwells one John Chapman, a pedlar, who hath a tree in his back yard, under which is buried a pot of money. Now, therefore if I should have made a journey thither to dig for such hidden treasure, judge you whether I should not have been counted a fool.’ To whom the Pedlar cunningly said, ’Yes, truly: I will therefore return home and follow my business, not heeding such dreams hence-forward.’ But when he came home (being satisfied that his dream was fulfilled), he took occasion to dig in that place, and accordingly found a large pot full of money, which he prudently concealed, putting the pot among the rest of his brass. After a time, it happened that one who came to his house, and beholding the pot, observed an inscription upon it, which being in Latin he interpreted it, that under that there was another twice as good.[FN#380] Of this inscription the Pedlar was before ignorant, or at least minded it not; but when he heard the meaning of it, he said, ’ ’Tis very true, in the shop where I bought this pot stood another under it which was twice as big’; but considering that it might tend to his further profit to dig deeper in the same place where he found that, he fell again to work and discovered such a pot as was intimated by the inscription, full of old coin; notwithstanding all which, he so concealed his wealth that the neighbours took no notice of it. But not long after the inhabitants of Swaffam resolving
“This is the tradition of the inhabitants, as it was told me there. And in testimony thereof, there was then his picture, with his wife and three children, in every window of the aisle, with an inscription running through the bottom of all those windows, viz., ’Orate pro bono statu Johannis Chapman.... Uxoris ejus, et Liberorum quorum, qui quidem Johannes hanc alam cum fenestris tecto et . . . fieri fecit.’ It was in Henry the Seventh’s time, but the year I now remember not, my notes being left with Mr. William Sedgwicke, who trickt the pictures, he being then with me. In that aisle is his seat, of an antique form, and on each side the entrance, the statue of the Pedlar of about a foot in length, with pack on his back, very artificially [?artistically] cut. This was sent me from Mr. William Dugdale, of Blyth Hall, in Warwickshire, in a letter dated Jan. 29th, 1652-3, which I have since learned from others to have been most True. Roger Twysden.”
Mr. William E. A. Axon, in “The Antiquary,” vol. xi. p. 168, gives the same version, with some slight variations, from a work entitled “New Help to Discourse,” which he says was often printed between 1619 and 1696: The dream was “doubled and tripled,” and the Pedlar stood on the bridge for two or three days; but no mention is made of his finding a second pot of money: “he found an infinite mass of money, with part of which he re-edified the church, having his statue therein to this day, cut out in stone, with his pack on his back and his dog at his heels, his memory being preserved by the same form or picture in most of the glass windows in taverns and alehouses in that town to this day.” The story is also told of a cobbler in Somersetshire (in an article on Dreams, “Saturday Review,” Dec. 28, 1878), who dreamt three nights in succession that if he went to London Bridge he would there meet with something to his advantage. For three days he walked over the bridge, when at length a stranger came up to him, and asked him why he had been walking from end to end of the bridge for these three days, offering nothing for sale nor purchasing aught. The man having told him of his strange dream, the stranger said that he too had dreamt of a lot of gold buried in a certain orchard in such a place in Somersetshire. Upon this the cobbler returned home and found the pot of gold under an apple-tree. He now sent his son to school, where he learnt Latin, and when the lad had come home for his holidays, he happened to look
Regarding the Norfolk tradition of the lucky and generous Pedlar, Blomfield says that the north side of the church of Swaffam (or Sopham) was certainly built by one John Chapman, who was churchwarden in 1462; but he thinks that the figures of the pedlar, etc., were only put “to set forth the name of the founder: such rebuses are frequently met with on old works.” The story is also told in Abraham de la Prynne’s Diary under date Nov. 10, 1699, as “a constant tradition” concerning a pedlar in Soffham.
Such is the close resemblance between the Turkish version of the Dream and that in the tale of Zayn al-Asnam that I am disposed to consider both as having been derived from the same source, which, however, could hardly have been the story told by El-Ishaki. In Zayn al-Asnam a shaykh appears to the prince in a dream and bids him hie to Egypt, where he will find heaps of treasure; in the Turkish story the shaykh appears to the poor water-carrier three times and bids him go to Damascus for the like purpose. The prince arrives at Cairo and goes to sleep in a mosque, when the shayka again presents himself before him in a dream and tells him that he has done well in obeying him—he had only made a trial of his courage: “now return to thy capital and I will make thee wealthy,”— in the Turkish story the water-carrier also goes into a mosque at Damascus and receives a loaf of bread there from a baker. When the prince returns home the shaykh appears to him once more and bids him take a pickaxe and go to such a palace of his sire and dig in such a place, where he should find riches,—in the Turkish story the water-carrier having returned to his own house, the shaykh comes to him three times more and bids him search near to where he is and he should find wealth. The discovery by Zayn al-Asnam of his father’s hidden treasure, after he had recklessly squandered all his means, bears some analogy to the well-known ballad of the “Heir of Linne,” who, when reduced to utter poverty, in obedience to his dying father’s injunction, should such be his hap, went to hang himself in the “lonely lodge” and found there concealed a store of gold.
With regard to the second part of the tale of Zayn al-Asnam—the Quest of the Ninth Image—and the Turkish version of which my friend Mr. Gibb has kindly furnished us with a translation from the mystical work of ’Ali ’Aziz Efendi, the Cretan, although no other version has hitherto been found,[FN#382] I have little doubt that the story is of either Indian or Persian extraction, images and pictures being abhorred by orthodox (or sunni) Muslims generally; and such also, I think, should we consider all the Arabian tales of young men becoming madly enamoured of beautiful girls from seeing their portraits—though we can readily believe that an Arab as well as a Persian or Indian youth might fall in love with a pretty maid from a mere description of her personal charms, as we are told of the Bedouin coxcomb Amarah in the Romance of Antar. If the Turkish version, which recounts the adventures of the Prince Abd es-Samed in quest of the lacking image (the tenth, not the ninth, as in the Arabian) was adapted from Zayn al-Asnam, the author has made considerable modifications in re-telling the fascinating story, and, in my opinion, it is not inferior to the Arabian version. In the Turkish, the Prince’s father appears to him in a vision of the night,[FN#383] and conducts him to the treasure-vault, where he sees the vacant pedestal and on it the paper in which his father directs him to go to Cairo and seek counsel of the Shaykh Mubarak, who would instruct him how to obtain the lacking image; and the prince is commissioned by the shaykh to bring him a spotless virgin who has never so much as longed for the pleasures of love, when he should receive the image for his reward. The shaykh gives him a mirror which should remain clear when held before such a virgin, but become dimmed when reflecting the features of another sort of girl; also a purse which should be always full of money.[FN#384] In the Arabian story the Shaykh Mubarak accompanies Zayn al-Asnam in his quest of the image to the land of Jinnistan, the King whereof it is who requires the prince to procure him a pure virgin and then he would give him the lacking image. In the Turkish version the prince Abd es-Samed proceeds on the adventure alone, and after visiting many places without success he goes to Baghdad, where by means of the Imam he at last finds the desiderated virgin, whom he conducts to Mubarak. In the Arabian story the Imam, Abu Bakr (Haji Bakr in the Turkish), is at first inimical towards the prince and the shaykh but after being propitiated by a present of money he is all complaisance, and, as in the Turkish, introduces the prince to the fallen vazir, the father of the spotless virgin. The sudden conversion of the Imam from a bitter enemy to an obliging friend is related with much humour: one day denouncing the strangers to the folk assembled in the mosque as cutpurses and brigands, and the next day withdrawing his statement, which he says had been made on the information of one of the prince’s
Aladdin; Or, the Wonderful Lamp—p. 31.
Those scholars who declared a number of the tales in Galland’s “Mille et une Nuits” to be of his own invention, because they were not found in any of the Arabic Ms. texts of The Nights preserved in European libraries, were unconsciously paying that learned and worthy man a very high compliment, since the tales in question are among the best in his work and have ever been, and probably will continue to be, among the most popular favourites. But that fact that Galland seized the first opportunity of intimating that two of those tales were not translated or inserted by himself ought to have been alone amply sufficient presumptive evidence of his good faith with regard to the others.
A friendly reviewer of my “Popular Tales and Fictions” etc. states that modern collectors of European Mrchen, though “working from 100 to 150 years after the appearance of the ‘Thousand and One Nights,’ in European literature, have not found the special versions therein contained distributed widely and profusely throughout Europe,” and that my chapter on Aladdin is proof sufficient that they have not done so. The reviewer goes on to say that I cite “numerous variants, but, save one from Rome, variants of the theme, not of the version; some again, such as the Mecklenburg and Danish forms, are more primitive in tone; and all lack those effective and picturesque details which are the charm of the Arabian story, and which a borrower only interested in the story as a story might just be expected to retain.’’[FN#385]
But it is not contended that the folk-tales of Europe owe much, if indeed anything at all, to the “Arabian Nights,” which is not only as it now exists a comparatively modern work—Baron de Sacy has adduced good reasons for placing the date of its composition in the middle of the 9th century of the Hijra, or about 1446 A.D. but was first made known in Europe so late as the first quarter of the last century. Several of the tales, and incidents of the tales, in the “Thousand and One Nights” were current in Europe in the 12th century— imported by the Moors of Spain, and by European travellers, pilgrims, and minstrels from the East. Thus the Arabian tale of the Ebony (or Enchanted) Horse is virtually identical with the Hispano-French romance of Cleomades and Claremonde; that of Prince Kamar al Zaman is fairly represented by the romance of Peter of Provence and the Fair Maguelone. The episode
When we find a popular (i.e. oral) European tale reproduce the most minute details of a story found in The Nights, we should conclude that it has been derived therefrom and within quite recent times, and such I am now disposed to think is the case of the Roman version of Aladdin given by Miss Busk under the title of “How Cajusse was Married,” notwithstandtng the circumstance that the old woman from whom it was obtained was almost wholly illiterate. A child who could read might have told the story out of Galland to his or her nurse, through whom it would afterwards assume local colour, with some modifications of the details. But stories having all the essential features of the tale of Aladdin were known throughout Europe long before Galland’s work was published, and in forms strikingly resembling other Asiatic versions, from one of which the Arabian tale must have been adapted. The incidents of the Magician and Aladdin at the Cave, and the conveying of the Princess and the vazir’s son three nights in succession to Aladdin’s house (which occurs, in modified forms, in other tales in The Nights), I consider as the work of the Arabian author. Stripped of these particulars, the elements of the tale are identical in all versions, Eastern and Western: a talisman, by means of which its possessor can command unlimited wealth, &c.; its loss and the consequent disappearance of the magnificent palace erected by supernatural agents who are subservient to the owner of the talisman, and finally its recovery together with the restoration of the palace to its original situation. The Arabian tale is singular in the circumstance of the talisman (the Lamp) being recovered by human means—by the devices of the hero himself, in fact, since in all the European and the other Asiatic forms of the story it is recovered by, as it was first obtained from, grateful animals. To my mind, this latter is the pristine form of the tale, and points to a Buddhist origin—mercy to all hying creatures being one of the leading doctrines of pure Buddhism.
The space at my disposal does not admit of the reproduction in extenso of the numerous versions or variants of Aladdin: a brief outline of their features will however serve my purpose. In the tale of Maruf the Cobbler, which concludes the Bulak and Calcutta printed texts of The Nights, we have an interesting version of Aladdin. The hero runs away from his shrewish wife and under false presences is married to a king’s daughter. He confesses his imposture to the princess, who loves him dearly, and she urges him to flee from her father’s vengeance and not to return until his death should leave the throne vacant, and having furnished him with money, he secretly quits the city at daybreak. After riding some distance, he begins to feel hungry, and seeing a peasant ploughing a field he goes up to him and asks for some food. The peasant sets off to his house for eatables and meanwhile Maruf begins to plough a furrow, when presently the ploughshare strikes against something hard, which he finds to be an iron ring. He tugs at the ring and raises a slab, which discovers a number of steps, down which he goes and comes into a cavern filled with gold and precious stones, and in a box made of a single diamond he finds a talismanic ring, on placing which on his finger a monstrous figure appears and expresses his readiness and ability to obey all his commands. In brief, by means of this genie, the hero obtains immense wealth in gold and jewels, and also rich merchandise, which enable him to return to the city in the capacity of a merchant, which he had professed himself when he married the princess. The vazir, who had from the first believed him to be an arrant impostor, lays a plot with the King to worm out of him the secret of his wealth, and succeeds so well at a private supper, when Maruf is elevated with wine, that he obtains possession of the ring, summons the genie, and causes him to carry both the King and Maruf into a far distant desert. He then compels the other ministers and the people to acknowledge him as king, and resolves to marry the princess. She temporises with him; invites him to sup with her; plies him with wine, induces him to throw the ring into a corner of the room, pretending to be afraid of the demon who is held captive in it; and when he has become insensible (in plain English, dead drunk), she seizes the ring, summons the genie, and commands him to secure the vazir and bring back her father and husband, which he does “in less than no time.” The vazir is of course put to death, and the princess takes charge of the ring for the future, alleging that neither the King nor her husband is to be trusted with the custody of such a treasure.
Another Arabian version is found—as Sir Richard Burton points out, note 1, p. 119—in “The Fisherman’s Son,” one of the tales translated by Jonathan Scott from the Wortley Montague Ms. text of The Nights, where the hero finds a magic ring inside a cock: like Aladdin, he marries the King’s daughter and has a grand palace built for him by the genii. The ring is afterwards disposed of to a Jew, in the same manner as was the Lamp to the Magician, and the palace with the princess is conveyed to a distant desert island. The fisherman’s son takes to flight. He purchases of a man who offered them for sale a dog, a cat, and a rat, which turn out to be well-disposed magicians, and they recover the ring from the Jew’s mouth while he is asleep. The ring is dropped into the sea accidentally while the animals are crossing it to rejoin their master, but is brought to the hero by a fish which he had returned to the sea out of pity in his fisherman days. The genie conveys the palace back again, and so on.—In a Mongolian version ("Siddhi Kur”) a young merchant parts with all his wares to save a mouse, an ape, and a bear from being tortured to death by boys. One of those creatures procures for him a wishing-stone, by means of which he has a grand palace built and obtains much treasure. He foolishly exchanges his talisman with the chief of a caravan for all their gold and merchandise, and it is afterwards restored to him by the grateful and ingenious animals.—In a Tamil version—referred to by Sir Richard, p. 30, note 2—which occurs in the “Madanakamarajankadai,” a poor wandering young prince buys a cat and a serpent; at his mother’s suggestion, he sets the serpent at liberty and receives from his father a wishing ring. He gets a city built in the jungle— or rather where the jungle was—and marries a beautiful princess. An old hag is employed by another king to procure him the princess for his wife. She wheedles herself into the confidence of the unsuspecting young lady, and learning from her the properties of the ring, induces her to borrow it of her husband for a few minutes, in order that she (the old trot) might apply it to her head to cure a severe headache. No sooner has she got possession of the ring than she disappears, and having delivered it to the other King, he “thought” of the princess, and in the twinkling of an eye she is carried through the air and set down before him. The ring is recovered by means of the cat which the hero had fostered, and so on.
Sir Richard has referred to a number of Italian versions (p. 30, note 2), which will be found epitomised in a most valuable and interesting paper, by my late friend Mr. H. C. Coote, on the sources of some of M. Galland’s Tales, in the First Part of the Folk-Lore Record for 1880, and, in conclusion, I may briefly glance at a few other European variants. Among those which not only bear a close analogy one to another but also to the Asiatic versions cited above are the
It is perhaps hardly worth while to make a critical analysis of the tale of Aladdin, since with all its gross inconsistencies it has such a hold of the popular fancy that one would not wish it to be otherwise than it is. But it must have occurred to many readers that the author has blundered in representing the Magician as closing the Cave upon Aladdin because he refused to give up the Lamp before he had been helped out. As the lad was not aware of the properties of the Lamp, he could have had no object in retaining it for himself, while the Magician in any case was perfectly able to take it by force from him. And if he wished to do away with Aladdin, yet incur no “blood-guiltiness” (see ante, p. 52 and note), he might surely have contrived to send him down into the Cave again and then close it upon him. As to the Magician giving his ring to Aladdin, I can’t agree with Sir Richard in thinking (p. 48, note 1) that he had mistaken its powers; this seems to me quite impossible. The ring was evidently a charm against personal injury as well as a talisman to summon an all-powerful and obedient genie. It was only as a charm that the Magician placed it on Aladdin’s finger, and, as the Hindustani Version explains, he had in his rage and vexation forgot about the ring when he closed the entrance to the Cave. It appears to me also incongruous that the Lamp, which Aladdin found burning, should afterwards only require to be rubbed in order to cause the genie to appear. One should have supposed that the lighting of it would have been more natural or appropriate; and it is possible that such was in the original form of the Aladdin version before it was reduced to writing, since we find something of the kind in a Mecklenburg version given in Grimm under the title of “Des blaue Licht.” A soldier who had long served his King is at last discharged without any pay. In the course of his wanderings he comes to the hut
Thus, it will be seen, popular tales containing all the essential elements of the story of Aladdin are spread over Europe, though hardly any of the versions was probably derived from it; and the conclusion at which I have arrived is that those elements, or incidents have been time out of mind the common property of European and Asiatic peoples, and that the tale of Aladdin may be considered as an almost unique version. The Mecklenburg legend is the only variant which has the incident of the Magician requiring the Lamp before helping the hero out of the Cave and that of the transporting of the princess from her palace to the hero’s house during the night, but these are not, I think, sufficient evidence that it was adapted from Galland.
The royal command that all shops are to be closed and everybody must keep within doors while the Princess Badr al-Badur proceeds to the bath and Aladdin’s playing the part of Peeping Tom of Coventry occur in many Eastern stories and find a curious analogue in the Adventures of Kurroglu, the celebrated robber-poet, as translated by Dr. Alexander Chodzko m his “Popular Poetry of Persia,” printed for the Oriental Translation Fund, and copies of that work being somewhat scarce, I daresay the story will be new to most of my readers:
Listen now to the tale about the Princess Nighara, daughter of the Turkish sultan Murad. In the neighbourhood of Constantinople lived a man who was known there under the name of Belli Ahmad. One day the Princess Nighara went out for a walk through the bazars of Constantinople. At the same time Kurroglu’s fame spread all over Turkey; everybody was telling stories about him, and all were struck with wonder. The Princess Nighara’s fond heart particularly was filled with an ardent wish of seeing this extraordinary hero, and she often thought in her mind, “O my God, when will you allow me to behold Kurroglu?” It happened that while Belli Ahmad was taking a walk in the bazars of Istambul, he looked and beheld on the platform of the building daroghs beating drums, whilst all the inmates of the bazar, the workmen as well as the merchants, were flying in a great hurry after having left their shops ajar. “Why are they thus running;” inquired Belli Ahmad of a Turk. “Doss thou know nothing? Then listen: Our king, Sultan Murad, is gone on a pilgrimage to Mecca. His son Burji Sultan reigns until his father’s return. He has a sister whose name is the Princess Nighara. Every Friday she goes to pray in the great mosque. The Sultan’s will is that during the passage of the princess through the bazars, no man should remain there, but that all the shops be left open. This is the reason of this panic and flight. As soon as the princess has passed, the merchants and workmen will return to their shops again.”
Belli Ahmad said in his heart, “Thy name is Belli Ahmad, and shalt thou not see this beautiful Princess Nighara? If not, thou art unworthy of the name of Belli[FN#391] Ahmad " He then looked to the right and left and entered stealthily into a greengrocer’s shop enclosed within a few boards. The train of the princess now appeared. First passed with their whips farashes and yassals, who led the procession and were followed by eunuchs with canes of office (chogan) in their hands. At last appeared the Princess Nighara, surrounded by a score of waiting-women. She walked with a downcast countenance in front of them, and bending her head towards the ground said to herself, “O thou earth on which my foot is treading, I beseech thee, receive my prayer!"[FN#392] Belli Ahmad saw and heard her through the chinks of the boards behind which he sat concealed When Nighara saw the shop with vegetables she wondered why it should be the only shop enclosed with boards whilst all the other shops were standing open. She then said to her waiting-women, “What is the reason of this? Whilst goldsmiths who possess a capital of a hundred thousand tomans have left their shops open, how is it that this petty merchant of vegetables, whose poor shop used always to be open, has shut it up to-day? There must be something extraordinary in all this. Break down the enclosure, my girls, and throw the boards aside.”
Belli Ahmad heard, and his soul was on the point of making its exit. He threw himself with his face downwards as if he was prostrated by a severe illness. When her orders had been executed Nighara entered the shop. Perceiving a fellow stretched out his whole length and embracing the floor with both hands, she kicked him with her foot,[FN#393] exclaiming, “Who art thou that wallowest in the dirt?” Belli Ahmad sprang to his feet and bowing to the Princess said, “Lady, I am a stranger here. God preserve you from being in a strange land anywhere! I saw that the merchants of the bazar were beaten and driven away, and I was frightened. But what was I to do? If I should hide myself in some rich shop I might be taken for a thief. I have therefore chosen this miserable hovel, where nothing can be found except greens, onions, and mouldy biscuits. And even if there were in it a few copper pieces, the owner at his departure must have taken them away. Pardon me, Princess; my soul was at stake and I hid myself.”
Nighara inquired, “Stranger, what countryman art thou?” “I am a native of Erzerum.” “Hast thou seen in those parts the Castle of Chamley-bill?"[FN#394] “Yes, lady, I have seen it.” “In that valley lives a man named Kurroglu: didst thou see him?” “O my Princess, I am one of his servants, I am a slave purchased with his gold.” “Canst thou delver him a letter from me?” “And wherefore not, fairest? Thou hast only to write and entrust it to me.” The Princess Nighara immediately wrote a letter to Kurroglu with her own hand. And what did she write? Here it is: “O
And the bold Kurroglu, when he read the lady’s billet, assumed the dress of a Haji, gained access to the seraglio gardens on the presence that he was entrusted with a private message to the Princess Nighara from her father the Sultan, whom he had met on the road to Mecca, and carried the amorous young lady to his fortress of Chamley-bill.—The story, together with the scene between the princess and Kurroglu in the gardens and the palace, is, no doubt, a true picture of the “ways” of Turkish ladies of high degree in former times, and confirms much that Sir Richard has stated regarding Eastern women in his notes to The Nights and his Terminal Essay.
A very different sort of Aladdin
figures in a story which in the first part bears some analogy to the celebrated Arabian tale, and which occurs in an interesting little work, now apparently forgotten, entitled “The Orientalist, or, Letters of a Rabbi (see Vol. 16, App. 4). With Notes by James Noble, Oriental Master in the Scottish Naval and Military Academy,” Edinburgh, 1831. The substance of the story is as follows (p. 118 ff.):
An aged Dervish falls ill in the house of a poor widow, who tends him with great care, with which he is so touched that he offers to take charge of her only son Abdallah. The good woman gladly consents, and the Dervish sets out accompanied by his young ward, having intimated to his mother that they must perform a journey which would last about two years. One day they arrived at a solitary place, and the Dervish said to Abdallah, “My son, we are now at the end of our journey. I shall employ my prayers to obtain from Allah that the earth shall open and make an entrance wide enough to permit thee to descend into a place where thou shalt find one of the greatest treasures that the earth contains. Hast thou courage to descend into the subterranean vault?” Abdallah swore he might depend upon his obedience and zeal. Then the Dervish lighted a small fire, into which he cast a perfume; he read and prayed for some moments, after which the earth opened, and he said to the young man, “Thou mayest now enter. Remember that it is in thy power to do me a great service, and that this is perhaps the only opportunity thou shalt ever have of testifying to me that thou art not ungrateful. Do not let thyself be dazzled by all the riches that thou shalt find there: think only of seizing upon an iron candlestick with twelve branches, which thou shalt find close to the door. That is absolutely necessary to me; come up immediately and bring it to me.”
Abdallah descended, and, neglecting the advice of the Dervish, filled his vest and sleeves with the gold and jewels which he found heaped up in the vault, whereupon the opening by which he had entered closed of itself. He had, however, sufficient presence of mind to seize the iron candlestick, and endeavoured to find some other means of escape from the vault. At length he discovers a narrow passage, which he follows until he reaches the surface of the earth, and looking about for the Dervish saw him not, but to his surprise found that he was close to his mother’s house. On showing his wealth to his mother it all suddenly vanished. But the candlestick remained. He lighted one of the branches, upon which a dervish appeared, and after turning round for an hour, he threw down an asper (about 3 farthings) and vanished. Next night he put a light in each of the branches, when twelve dervishes appeared, and after continuing their gyrations an hour, each threw down an asper and vanished.
Thus Abdallah and his mother contrived to live for a time, till at length he resolved to carry the candlestick to the Dervish, hoping to obtain from him the treasure which he had seen in the vault. He remembered his name and city, and on reaching his dwelling he found the Dervish living in a magnificent palace with fifty porters at the gate. Quoth the Dervish, when Abdallah appeared before him, “Thou art an ungrateful wretch! Hadst thou known the value of the candlestick, thou wouldst never have brought it to me. I will show thee its true use.” Then the Dervish placed a light in each branch, whereupon twelve dervishes appeared and began to whirl, but on his giving each a blow with a cane in an instant they were changed into twelve heaps of sequins, diamonds and other precious stones.
Ungrateful as Abdallah had shown himself, yet the Dervish gave him two camels laden with gold and a slave, telling him he must depart the next morning. During the night Abdallah stole the candlestick and placed it at the bottom of one of his sacks. In the morning he took his leave of the generous Dervish and set off. When about half a day’s journey from his own city he sold the slave, that there should be no witness to his former poverty and bought another in his stead. Arriving home, he carefully placed his loads of treasure in a private chamber, and then put a light in each branch of the candlestick, and when the twelve dervishes appeared, as usual, he dealt each a blow with a cane. But he had not observed that the Dervish employed his left hand, and he had naturally used his right in consequence of which the twelve dervishes each drew from under their robes a heavy club and beat him till he was nearly dead, and then vanished, as did also the treasure, the camels, the slave, and the wonder-working candlestick.
It is to be regretted that the author has not stated the sources whence he drew his stories, but that they are without exception of Eastern extraction does not admit of any doubt: some are taken from the “Panchatantra,” “Hitopadesa,” or “Anvar-i-Suhayli,” and others are found in other Asiatic story-books. I have however not met with the foregoing elsewhere than in Noble’s little volume. The beginning of the story is near akin to that of Aladdin: for the wicked magician who pretends to take the tailor’s son under his care we have a dervish who in good faith takes charge of the son of a poor widow who had nursed him through a severe illness. The cave scene is very similar in both, only the magician performs diabolical incantations, while the dervish practices “white magic” and prays to Allah for assistance. The twelve-branched candlestick takes the place of the Wonderful Lamp. Like Aladdin, young Abdallah is shut in the cavern, though not because he refused to give up the candlestick until he was safe above ground again, but because his cupidity induced him to pocket some of the treasures which filled the cave.
There is a strong Indian—even Buddhistic—flavour in the story of Abdallah and the Dervish, and the apparition of the twelve whirling fakirs, who when struck with a cane held in the left hand fall into so many heaps of gold coin, has its analogue in the “Hitopadesa” and also in the Persian Tales of a Parrot ("Tuti Nama"). The 10th Fable of Book iii. of the “Hitopadesa’ goes thus: In the city of Ayodhya (Oude) there was a soldier named Churamani, who, being anxious for money, for a long time with pain of body worshipped the deity the jewel of whose diadem is the lunar crescent.[FN#395] Being at length purified from his sins, in his sleep he had a vision in which, through the favour of the deity, he was directed by the lord of the Yakshas[FN#396] to do as follows: ’Early in the morning, having been shaved, thou must stand, club in hand, concealed behind the door of thy house; and the beggar whom thou seest come into the court thou wilt put to death without mercy by blows of thy staff. Instantly the beggar will become a pot full of gold, by which thou wilt be comfortable the rest of thy life.” These instructions being followed, it came to pass accordingly. But the barber who had been brought to shave him, having witnessed it all, said to himself, “O, is this the mode of gaining treasure? Why, then, may not I also do the same?” From that day forward the barber in like manner, with club in hand, day after day awaited the coming of the beggar. One day a beggar being so caught was attacked by him and killed with the stick, for which offence the barber himself was beaten by the King’s officers and died.
The same story is differently told, at greater length and with considerable humour, in Nakhshabi’s Parrot-Book, but the outline of it only can be given here: A rich merchant named Abd-el-Malik resolved to give all his substance to the poor and needy before he departed this life. At midnight an apparition stood before him in the habit of a fakir and thus addressed him: “I am the apparition of thy good fortune and the genius of thy future happiness.[FN#397] When thou, with such unbounded generosity, didst bequeath all thy wealth to the poor, I determined not to pass by thy door unnoticed, but to enrich thee with an inexhaustible treasure, suitable to the greatness of thy capacious soul. To accomplish which I will every morning in this shape appear to thee; thou shalt strike me a few blows on the head, and I shall instantly fall at thy feet, transformed into an image of gold. From this take as much as thou shalt have occasion for; and every member that shall be separated from the image shall instantly be replaced by another of the same precious metal."[FN#398] In the morning a covetous neighbour named Hajm visited the merchant, and soon after the apparition presented itself. Abd-el-Malik at once arose and after striking it several blows on the head with a stick, it fell down and was changed into an image of gold. He took what sufficed for the day’s needs and gave the larger portion to his visitor. When Hajm the covetous returned to his own house he pondered what he had seen, and concluding it would be as easy for him to convert fakirs into gold, invited to a feast at his house all the fakirs of the province. When they had feasted to their hearts’ content, Hajm seized a heavy club and began to unmercifully belabour his guests till he broke their heads and “the crimson torrent stained the carpet of hospitality.” The cries of the fakirs soon brought the police to their assistance, and a great crowd of people gathered outside the house. Hajm was immediately haled before the magistrate, and attempted to justify his conduct by giving an account of what he had seen done in the house of Abd-el-Malik. The merchant was sent for and declared Hajm to be mad, no better proof of which could be desired than his treatment of the fakirs. So Hajm the covetous was sent forthwith to the hospital for lunatics.
Khudadad and His Brothers—p. 145.
Readers of The Nights must have observed that a large number of the tales begin with an account of a certain powerful king, whose dominions were almost boundless, whose treasury overflowed, and whose reign was a blessing to his people; but he had one all-absorbing care—he had no son. Thus in the tale of Khudadad we read that in the city of Harran there dwelt a sultan “of illustrious lineage, a protector of the people, a lover of his lieges, a friend of mankind, and renowned for being gifted with every good quality. Allah Almighty had bestowed upon him all that his heart could desire, save the boon of a child, for though he had lovely
A Kashmiri tale, entitled “The Four Princes,” translated by the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles, in the “Indian Antiquary,” 1886,[FN#400] thus begins: In days long since gone by there lived a king most clever, most holy, and most wise, who was a pattern king. His mind was always occupied with plans for the improvement of his country and people; his darbar was open to all; his ear was ever ready to listen to the petition of the humblest subject, he afforded every facility for trade; he established hospitals for the sick, inns (sara’e) for travellers, and large schools for those who wished to learn. These and many other such things he did. Nothing was left undone that ought to be done, and nothing was done that ought not to have been done. Under such a wise, just, and beneficent ruler the people of course lived very happily. Few poor or unenlightened or wicked persons were to be found in the country. But the great and good king had not a son. This was an intense sorrow to him—the one dark cloud that now and again overshadowed his otherwise happy and glorious life. Every day he prayed earnestly to Siva to grant him an heir to sit upon the throne after him. One day Siva appeared to him in the garb of a yogi,[FN#401] and bade him ask a boon and it should be granted. “Take these four fruits,” said Siva, “and give them to your wife to eat on such a day before sunrise. Then shall your wife give birth to four sons who will be exceedingly clever and good.” The king follows these instructions and in due course his wife is delivered of four sons at one birth and thereupon dies. The rest of the story is a variant of the Tamil romance “Alakesa Katha,’’[FN#402] and of “Strike, but hear!” in Rev. Lal Behari Day’s “Folk-Tales of Bengal.”
This is how the Tamil story of The Four Good Sisters begins ("Folk-Lore in Southern India,” Part iii., by Pandit S. M. Natesa Sastri[FN#403]): In the town of Tanjai there reigned a king named Hariji, who was a very good and charitable sovereign. In his reign the tiger and the bull drank out of the same pool, the serpent and the peacock amused themselves under the same tree; and thus even birds and beasts of a quarrelsome and inimical disposition lived together like sheep of the same flock. While the brute creation of the great God was thus living in friendship and happiness, need it be said that this king’s subjects led a life of peace and prosperity unknown in any other country under the canopy of heaven? But for all the peace which his subjects enjoyed, Hariji himself had no joy: his face was always drooping, his lips never moved in laughter, and he was as sad as sad could be because he had no son.—After trying in vain the distribution of charitable gifts which his ministers and the priests recommended, the king resolves to retire into the wilderness and there endeavour to propitiate Mahesvara [i.e. Siva], hoping thus to have his desire fulfilled. He appoints his ministers to order the realm during his absence, and doffing his royal robes clothes himself in the bark of trees and takes up his abode in the desert. After practising the most severe austerities for the space of three years, Siva, mounted on his bull, with his spouse Parvati by his side, appears before the hermit, who is overjoyed at the sight of the deity. Siva bids him ask any boon and it should be granted. The royal ascetic desires to have a son. Then says Siva: “For thy long penance we grant thy request. Choose then—a son who shall always be with thee till death, but shall be the greatest fool in the whole world, or four daughters who shall live with thee for a short time, then leave thee and return before thy death, but who shall be the incarnation of learning. To thee is left to choose which thou wilt have,” and so saying, the deity gives him a mango fruit for his wife to eat, and then disappears. The king elects to have the four learned daughters, whose history is very entertaining.
Another tale in the Pandit’s collection (No. 4) informs us that once upon a time in a town named Vanjaimanagar there ruled a king named Sivachar. He was a most just king and ruled so well that no stone thrown up fell down, no crow pecked at the new-drawn milk, the lion and the bull drank water from the same pond, and peace and prosperity reigned throughout the kingdom. Notwithstanding all these blessings, care always sat on his face. His days and nights he spent in praying that God might bless him with a son. Wherever he saw pipal trees he ordered Brahmans to circumambulate them.[FN#404] Whatever medicines the doctors recommended he was ever ready to swallow, however bitter they might be. At last fortune favoured Sivachar; for what religious man fails to obtain his desire? The king in his sixtieth year had a son, and his joy knew no bounds.
In like fashion does the Persian “Sindibad Nama” begin: There reigned in India a sage and mighty monarch, the bricks of whose palace were not of stone or marble but of gold; the fuel of whose kitchen was fresh wood of aloes; who had brought under the signet of his authority the kingdoms of Rum and Abyssinia; and to whom were alike tributary the Ethiop Maharaj and the Roman Kaysar. He was distinguished above all monarchs for his virtue clemency, and justice. But although he was the refuge of the Khalifate, he was not blessed with an heir: life and the world appeared profitless to him, because he had no fruit of the heart in the garden of his soul. One night, while reclining on his couch, sad and thoughtful, consumed with grief like a morning taper, he heaved a deep sigh upon which one of his favourite wives (he had a hundred in his harem), advancing towards him and kissing the ground, inquired the cause of his distress. He discloses it. His wife consoles him, encourages him to hope, and assures him that if he prayed, his prayers would be answered, but that at all events it was his duty to be resigned to the will of God. “Prayer is the only key that will open the door of difficulty.” The king fasted for a whole week and was assiduous in his devotions. One night he prayed with peculiar earnestness and self-abasement till morning. The companion of his couch was one of his wives, fairer than the sun and the envy of a pert. He clasped her in his embrace, exclaiming, “There is no strength, no power, save in God!” and he felt assured in his heart that his prayer was granted. In due time a son was born to him, and, eager to show his gratitude, he bestowed munificent gifts and lavished his treasures on all his subjects.
The seventh of Lal Behari Day’s “Folk-Tales of Bengal” opens as follows: Once on a time there reigned a king who had seven queens. He was very sad, for the seven queens were all barren. A holy mendicant, however, one day told the king that in a certain forest there grew a tree, on a branch of which hung seven mangoes; if the king himself plucked those mangoes and gave one to each of the queens they would all become mothers. So the king went to the forest, plucked the seven mangoes that grew upon one branch, and gave a mango to each of the queens to eat. In a short time the king’s heart was filled with joy as he heard that the seven queens were pregnant.—In Miss Stokes’ “Indian Fairy Tales,’ p. 91, Raja Barbal receives from an ascetic 160 lichi fruits, one of which he is to give to each of his 160 wives, who would have each a son.— Similar instances occur in Steel and Temple’s “Wide Awake Stories,” from the Panjab and Kashmir, pp. 47 and 290, and in Natesa Sastri’s “Dravidian Nights’ Entertainments” (a translation of the Tamil romance entitled “Madanakamarajankadai"), pp. 55, 56.—Among biblical instances of women having offspring after being long barren are: Sarah, the wife of Abraham (Gen. ch. xv. 2 4, xxi. 1, 2); Rachel, the wife of
Although no version or variant of the story of Khudadad and his Brothers has yet been found besides the one in the Turkish collection “Al-Faraj ba’d al-Shiddah,” yet the elements of which it is composed occur in many European and Asiatic tales. As we have in Galland a story of sisters who envied their cadette, so, by way of justice to the “fair sex,” we have likewise this tale of envious brothers, which is a favourite theme of popular fictions, only in the story of Khudadad, the brothers were not at first aware of the hero’s kinship to them, though they had been informed of it when they most ungratefully cut and slashed him with their swords as he lay asleep by the side of his beauteous bride the Princess of Daryabar.
Sometimes it is not a brother, or brothers, but a treacherous friend or a secret, cowardly rival, who attempts the life of the hero and claims the credit and reward for his bold achievement. Many examples must occur to readers familiar with Icelandic, Norwegian, and German folk-tales which need not here be cited. In the old French romance of the Chevalier Berinus and his gallant son Aigres de l’Aimant, the King of Loquiferne is in love with the Princess Melia, daughter of a king named Absalon, who would give her only to the prince who should bring with him two knights prepared to combat with and slay two fierce lions, or would attempt this feat himself. None of the barons of the King of Loquiferne offering themselves for the adventure, Aigres undertakes it very readily, and is accompanied by a knight named Acars, who has charge of a casket of jewels destined for the princess as a wedding-gift. Young Aigres encounters and kills the lions singlehanded, and the lily-livered and faithless Acars envies him the glory of his exploit. On their way back to Loquiferne with the Princess Melia, as they pass near a deep well Acars purposely allows the casket of jewels to fall into it and pretends to be distracted at the misfortune. But the gallant Aigres securing one end of his horse’s reins to the top of the well descends by this improvised rope, and when he dives into the water to recover the casket the rascal Acars cuts the reins and compels the princess and her maid to follow him. His triumph is brief, however, for Melia and her maid are taken from him, without his striking a blow in their defence, by a king who is in love with the princess. Acars proceeds to the court of the King of Loquiferne and tells him how the lady had been snatched out of his hands by a king who attacked him with a great army while Aigres had fled like a craven. Meanwhile Aigres contrives to get out of the well, and finds his steed and armour close by: he is fortunate in rescuing the princess and her maid from the king who had taken them from Acars, and arriving at the court of Loquiferne denounces Acars as a coward and traitor, and the princess Melia confirms his assertions; so the carpet-knight is for ever disgraced.
Another example not very generally known is found in the Urdu romance, “Gul-i Bakawali:” When the hero, Taj al-Maluk, the youngest son of King Zayn al-Maluk, is born, the astrologers cast his horoscope and predict that the king will lose his sight as soon as he looks upon him. In order to prevent such a calamity, the king causes the child and his mother to be placed in a house far distant from the city, where Zayn al-Maluk grows up into a handsome, courageous youth. By chance he meets his father, the king, while the latter is hunting, and the king no sooner casts his eyes on the youth than he becomes blind. The royal physicians tell him that only the Rose of Bakawali can restore his sight, and the four other sons of the king set out together to procure this wonderful flower. They fall victims to the wiles of a courtesan, who wins all their money at play and ultimately imprisons them in her house. In the meantime Taj al-Maluk has started on the same errand; he outwits the courtesan, obtains the liberation of his brothers, and then journeys to Jinnistan, where, by the help of a friendly demon, he plucks the Rose in the garden of the beauteous fairy Bakawali, and retraces his way homeward. Meeting with his four brothers on the road, he acquaints them of his success, and on their doubting the virtue of the flower, it is applied to the eyes of a blind man, and his sight is instantly restored. Upon this the brothers take the flower from Taj al-Maluk by force and hasten with it to their father. But the hero’s friends the demons build for him a splendid palace, and the fame of his wealth soon reaches the court of his father, who, with the four brothers and the ministers of state, visits him, and after a great feast Taj al-Maluk makes himself known to the king and relates the whole story of how he procured the flower that had restored his sight. The king falls upon his son’s neck and weeps tears of joy, saying, “You have restored the light of my eyes by the Rose of Bakawali, and by the sight of you the door of cheerfulness has been opened in my sorrowful heart. It is incumbent on me to make known this enlivening news to your mother, who has looked out for you with anxiety and I must cause her, who has been afflicted with grief at your absence, to drink the sherbet of the glad tidings of your safety.” Then the king went to Taj al-Maluk’s mother, made many apologies for his ill treatment of her, exalted her higher than she was previously, and gave her the joyful news of her son’s arrival. The remainder of the romance recounts the marvellous adventures of the hero in fairyland, whither he proceeds to rejoin Bakawali, and where he undergoes many strange transformations; but ultimately all is “merry as marriage beds.”—Nothing is said about the punishment or pardon of the treacherous brothers, but doubtless in the original form of the story the hero acted as generously towards them as did Khudadad when his father would have put the forty brothers to death. It seems somewhat strange that after Khudadad’s brothers had killed him (as they believed) they did not take the Princess Daryabar away with them, which generally happens in stories of this kind.
The Story of the Blind Man, Baba Abdullah—p. 178.
An incident in the Muhammedan version of the legend of the Seven Sleepers may have furnished a hint for this well-told tale. When the evil-minded Dekianus views the Hid Treasure, which he had covenanted with the aged man who read the Tablet for him and conducted him to the spot should be equitably divided betwixt them—when he had beheld with wonder and astonishment the incalculable riches contained in the seven chambers, he says within himself, “And must I share this with the old man?” Then he ponders and thinks, “Nay, but I will give him a goodly portion ;” but finally he resolves to give him nothing—nay more, to take away his life so that there should be none on earth besides himself acquainted with the source of his wealth. In vain does the old man bid him take all the treasure and swear that he will ever preserve the secret: Dekianus smote him with his sword so that he died.
There is a tale in the Persian story-book “Shamsah wa Kahkahah” (also entitled “Mahbub al-Kalub”) which bears some analogy to the story of the Blind Man, Baba Abdullah. A skilful geomancer is desired by a tradesman to cast his horoscope. He does so, and informs the tradesman that he is to find a treasure. The man is incredulous, but after the operation is repeated with the same result at length becomes convinced of the accuracy of the geomancer’s calculations, locks his door, and forthwith they both begin to dig the floor. They come upon a large stone which on removal is found to have covered a well. The geomancer lowers the tradesman down it in a basket, which the latter fills with gold and silver and precious stones, and it is drawn up by the geomancer. When this has been repeated several times and the geomancer views the immense quantity of glittering treasure heaped up beside him, covetous thoughts enter his mind, and he determines to leave the tradesman to his fate at the bottom of the well, take all the wealth for himself, and live in comfort and luxury the rest of his days. Accordingly he does not again let the basket down, and the poor tradesman, suspecting his iniquitous design, calls out piteously to his perfidious friend, imploring him not to leave him there to perish, and swearing that the treasure should be equally shared as between brothers. But the covetous geomancer is deaf to his appeal, and begins to consider how the treasure might be conveyed to his own house without attracting the notice of any of the folk of the quarter, and in the midst of his cogitatious he falls asleep. Now it happened that the poor tradesman had an enemy who had long waited for an opportunity to do him a personal injury, and that very night he came to the house, and by means of a rope with a hook which he fastened to the wall he climbed on to the roof and descended into the place where the geomancer was sleeping. The man, mistaking him for the tradesman, seized the geomancer and with a sharp awl pierced
If
you possess one barley grain of justice,
You
will never have half a grain of sorrow.
But much more closely resembling the story of Baba Adbullah is a tale in the Persian romance which recounts the imaginary adventures of Hatim Ta’i. A blind man is confined in a cage which is suspended from a branch of a tree, and constantly exclaims, “Do evil to none; if you do, evil will overtake you.” Hatim having promised to mend his condition and relieve him, he relates his history as follows:
“I am by occupation a merchant, and my name is Hamir. When I became of age my father had finished the building of this city, and he called the same after my name. Shortly after, my father departed on a sea-voyage, and left me in charge of the city. I was a free hearted and social young man, and so in a short time expended all the property left under my care by my father. Thus I became surrounded with poverty and want, and as I knew that my father had hidden treasures somewhere in the house, I resolved to discover them if possible. I searched everywhere, but found nothing, and, to complete my woe, I received the news of my father’s death, the ship in which he sailed being wrecked.
“One day as I was sauntering, mournful and dejected, through the bazar, I espied a learned man who cried out, ’If any one has lost his money by theft or otherwise, my knowledge of the occult sciences enables me to recover the same, but on condition that I receive one fourth of the amount.’ When I heard this seasonable proclamation, I immediately approached the man of science, and stated to him my sad condition and how I had been reduced from affluence to poverty. The sage undertook to restore my wealth, and above all to discover the treasures concealed in my father’s house. I conducted him to the house and showed him every apartment, which he carefully examined one after another. At length by his art he discovered the stores we were in search of; and when I saw the gold and silver and other valuables, which exceeded calculation, the demon of fraud entered my heart, and I refused to fulfil my promise of giving a fourth of the property to the man of wisdom. I offered him only a few small pieces of silver; instead of accepting which, he stood for a few moments in silent meditation, and with a look of scorn said, ’Do I thus receive the fourth part of your treasure which you agreed to give me? Base man, of what perjury are you guilty?’ On hearing this I became enraged, and having struck him several blows on the face, I expelled him from my house. In a few days however he returned. and so far ingratiated himself into my confidence that we became intimate friends; and night and day he displayed before my sight the various hidden treasures contained within the bowels of the earth. One day I asked him to instruct me in this wonderful science, to which he answered that no instruction was requisite. ‘Here,’ said he, ’is a composition of surma and whoever applies the same to his eyes, to him will all the wealth of this world become visible.’[FN#406] ‘Most learned sir,’ I replied, ’if you will anoint mine eyes with this substance I promise to share with you the half of all such treasures as I may discover.’ ‘I agree,’ said my friend; ’meanwhile let us retire to the desert, where we shall be free from interruption.’
“We immediately set out, and when we arrived there I was surprised at seeing this cage and asked my companion whose it was. I received for answer, that it belonged to no one. In short, we both sat down at the foot of this tree, and the sage, having produced the surma from his pocket, began to apply it to my eyes. But, alas! no sooner had he applied this composition than I became totally deprived of sight. In a voice of sorrow I asked him why he had thus treated me, and he replied, ’Such is the reward of treachery; and if you wish to recover your sight, you must for some time undergo penance in this cage. You must utter no complaint and you shall exclaim from time to time, ’Do no evil to any one; if you do, evil will befall you.’ I entreated the sage to relieve me, saying, ’You are a mere mortal like myself, and dare you thus torment
When the man in the cage had ended his story, the magnanimous Hatim bade him be of good cheer, for he would at once endeavour to relieve him. By the aid of the fairies, who carry him through the air for the space of seven days, he arrives in the desert where the Flowers of Light shine brilliant as lamps on a festival night, diffusing the sweetest perfume far and wide; and recking naught for the serpents, scorpions, and beasts of prey which infested the place (for he had a talisman that protected him), he advances and plucks three of the largest and most brilliant flowers. Returning in the same manner as he had gone thither, he reaches the spot where the blind man Hamir is imprisoned; taking down the cage, he releases the wretched man, compresses the stalk of the flower so that the juice drops upon his sightless eyeballs, and when this has been repeated three times Hamir opens his eyes, and seeing Hatim falls prostrate at his feet with a profusion of thanks.
Although there are some differences in the details of the story of Baba Abdullah and that of Hamir, as above, yet the general similarity between them is sufficient to warrant the conclusion that if one was not adapted from the other, both must have been derived from the same source; and here we have, I think, clear evidence of the genuineness of another of the tales which Galland was believed to have invented himself.
History of Sidi Nu’man—p. 187.
It is curious to find this current as a folk-tale at Palena, in the Abruzzi, without any material variation except in the conclusion. My friend, Mr. E. Sidney Hartland, has favoured me with the following abstract of the Italian version, as given in vol. iii. of the “Archivio per lo studio delle Tradizioni Popolari” (Palermo, 1882), p. 222:
There was once a husband and wife. The wife says that she cannot eat anything, and only picks a few grains of rice with a large pin. Her husband asks why she eats nothing, and she answers that she does not want to eat. Meantime she goes out secretly every night, and the husband begins to have suspicions of her. One night he follows her softly and finds she goes to the burial ground, where she meets with certain female companions. They open a grave and feed on the flesh of the dead. The next morning the husband cooks rice again, and the wife picks up a few grains of it with a pin as before. The husband exclaims, “What! you enjoy the flesh of dead
This version from the Abruzzi so closely resembles the story of Sidi Nu’man that we should perhaps be justified in concluding it to have been directly derived from Galland’s Nights, in the absence of any Venetian version, which might well have been imported independently from the East, but however this may be, the story in Galland bears unquestionable internal evidence that it is a genuine Arabian narrative, having nothing peculiarly European in its details.
A somewhat similar story is quite familiar to me, but I cannot at present call to mind whether it occurs in a Persian collection or in The Nights, in which the woman going out when she thinks her husband asleep, the latter follows her to a hut at some distance which she enters, and peeping into the hut, he sees a hideous black give her a severe beating for not coming sooner, while she pleads that she could not venture to quit the house until her husband was sound asleep.
The ghoul-wife of Arabian tales, who eats little or nothing at home, has her in the rakshasi of Indian fictions, who secretly devours antelopes, etc. There are many parallels in The Nights and other Asiatic story-books to the incident of Sidi Nu’man being changed back into his proper form, the most noteworthy being perhaps the case of the Second Calender in the shape of a monkey, or ape, whom the princess, an adept in white magic, at once recognizes as a man and veils her face, as does the young woman in the case of Sidi Nu’man: but while the Calender is restored to his own form, the princess, alas! perishes in her encounter with the genie who had transformed him.—In most of the Arabian tales of magical transformations of men and women into beasts the victims are ultimately restored to their natural forms, but in the Indian romance of the princess Somasekhara and Chitrasekhara, a wicked king named Ugrabahu is permanently changed by some water taken from a magic fountain into a monkey and sold to a beggar, who compels him to perform tricks in public for his benefit. Heywood, in his “History of Women” (Book viii.), cites some curious European stories of men being transformed into donkeys by eating a certain kind of cheese,
History of Khwajah Hasan Al-habbal—p. 198.
How this entertaining story found its way into North Germany—and nowhere else in Europe, so far as I am aware—it is not easy to say, but its twin-brother seems to be orally current there, in all essential details, excepting the marvellous conclusion. For the poor ropemaker, however, a struggling weaver and for the two gentlemen, Sa’d and Sa’di, three rich students are substituted. There does not appear (according to the version given by Thorpe in his “Yule Tide Stories,” which he entitles, not inaptly, The Three Gifts) to be any difference of opinion among the students regarding the influence of Destiny, or Fate, upon men’s fortunes: they simply give the poor weaver a hundred dollars “to assist him in his housekeeping.” The weaver hides the money in a heap of rags, unknown to his wife, who sells them to a rag-collector for a trifling sum. A year afterwards the students are again passing the house of the weaver and find him poorer than ever. He tells them of his mishap
The incident of the kite carrying off the poor ropemaker’s turban in which he had deposited the most part of the gold pieces that he received from the gentleman who believed that “money makes money”—an unquestionable fact, in spite of our story—is of very frequent occurrence in both Western and Eastern fictions. My readers will recollect its exact parallel in the abstract of the romance of Sir Isumbras, cited in Appendix to the preceding volumes: how the Knight, with his little son, after the soudan’s ship has sailed away with his wife, is bewildered in a forest, where they fall asleep, and in the morning at sunrise when he awakes, an eagle pounces down and carries off his scarlet mantle, in which he had tied up his scanty store of provisions together with the gold he had received from the soudan; and how many
There is nothing improbable—at all events, nothing impossible—in the History of Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal. That he should lose the two sums of money in the manner described is quite natural, and the incidents carry with them the moral: “Always take your wife into your confidence” (but the Khwajah was a Muslim), notwithstanding the great good luck which afterwards befell, and which, after all, was by mere chance. There is nothing improbable in the finding of the turban with the money intact in the bird’s nest, but that this should occur while the Khwajah’s benefactors were his guests is—well, very extraordinary indeed! As to the pot of bran—why, some little license must be allowed a story-teller, that is all that need be said! The story from beginning to end is a most charming one, and will continue to afford pleasure to old and young—to “generations yet unborn.”
I confess to entertaining a peculiar affection for this tale. It was the first of the tales of the “Arabian Nights Entertainments” which I read in the days of my “marvelling boyhood” eheu! fugaces, &c, etc. I may therefore be somewhat prejudiced in its favour, just as I still consider Scott’s “Waverley” as the best of his long series of fascinating fictions, that being the first of them which I read—as it was the first he wrote. But “All Baba and the Forty Thieves”—the “open, sesame!” “shut, sesame!”—the sackfuls of gold and silver and the bales of rich merchandise in the robbers’ cave—the avaricious brother forgetting the magical formula which would open the door and permit him to escape with his booty—his four quarters hung up in terrorem—and above all, the clever, devoted slave girl Morgiana, who in every way outwitted the crafty robber-chief,—these incidents remain stamped in my memory ineffaceably: like the initials of lovers’ names cut into the bark of a growing tree, which, so far from disappearing, become larger by the lapse of time. To me this delightful tale will ever be, as Hafiz sings of something, “freshly fresh and newly new.” I care not much though it never be found in an Arabic or any other Oriental dress—but that it is of Asiatic invention is self-evident; there is, in my poor opinion nothing to excel it, if indeed to equal it, for intense interest and graphic narrative power in all The Nights proper.
Sir Richard Burton has remarked, in note 1, p. 219, that Mr. Coote could only find in the south of Europe, or in the Levant, analogues of two of the incidents of this tale, yet one of those may be accepted as proof of its Eastern extraction, namely, the Cyprian story of “Three Eyes,” where the ogre attempts to rescue his wife with a party of blacks concealed in bales: “The King’s jester went downstairs, in order to open the bales and takes something out of them. Directly he approached one of the sacks, the black man answered from the inside,’Is it time, master?’ In the same manner he tried all the sacks, and then went upstairs and told them that the sacks were full of black men. Directly the King’s bride heard this, she made the jester and the company go downstairs. They take the executioner with them, and go to the first sack. The black man says from the inside, ‘Is it time ?’ ‘Yes,’ say they to him, and directly he came out they cut his head off. In the same manner they go to the other sacks and kill the other black men.’’[FN#408]
The first part of the tale of Ali Baba—ending with the death of his greedy brother—is current in North Germany, to this effect:
A poor woodcutter, about to fell a beech at the back of the scattered ruins of the castle of Dummburg, seeing a monk approach slowly through the forest, hid himself behind a tree. The monk passed by and went among the rocks. The woodcutter stole cautiously after him and saw that he stopped at a small door which had never been discovered by the villagers. The monk knocks gently and cries, “Little door, open!” and the door springs open. He also cries, “Little door, shut!” and the door is closed. The woodcutter carefully observes the place, and next Sunday goes secretly and obtains access to the vault by the same means as that employed by the monk. He finds in it “large open vessels and sacks full of old dollars and fine guilders, together with heavy gold pieces, caskets filled with jewels and pearls, costly shrines and images of saints, which lay about or stood on tables of silver in corners of the vault.” He takes but a small quantity of the coin, and as he is quitting the vault a voice cries, “Come again!” First giving to the church, for behoof of the poor, a tenth of what he had taken, he goes to the town and buys clothes for his wife and children, giving out to his neighbours that he had found an old dollar and a few guilders under the roots of a tree that he had felled. Next Sunday he again visits the vault, this time supplying himself somewhat more liberally from the hoard, but still with moderation and discretion, and “Come again!” cries a voice as he is leaving. He now gives to the church two tenths, and resolves to bury the rest of the money he had taken in his cellar. But he can’t resist a desire to first measure the gold, for he could not count it. So he borrows for this purpose a corn-measure of a neighbour—a very rich but penurious man, who starved himself, hoarded up corn, cheated the labourer of his hire, robbed the widow and the orphan, and lent money on pledges. Now the measure had some cracks in the bottom, through which the miser shook some grains of corn into his own heap when selling it to the poor labourer, and into these cracks two or three small coins lodged, which the miser was not slow to discover. He goes to the woodcutter and asks him what it was he had been measuring. “Pine-cones and beans. But the miser holds up the coins he had found in the cracks of the measure, and threatens to inform upon him and have him put to the question if he will not disclose to him the secret of his money. So the woodcutter is constrained to tell him the whole story and much against his will, but not before he had made the miser promise that he would give one-tenth to the church, he conducts him to the vault. The miser enters, with a number of sacks, the woodcutter waiting outside to receive them when filled with treasure. But while the miser is gloating over the enormous wealth before him—even “wealth beyond the dreams of avarice”—a great black dog comes and lays himself down on the sacks. Terrified at the flaming eyes of the dog, the miser crept towards
The resemblance which this North German tale bears to the first part of “All Baba” is striking, and is certainly not merely fortuitous; the fundamental outline of the latter is readily recognisable in the legend of The Dummburg, notwithstanding differences in the details. In both the hero is a poor woodcutter, or faggot-maker; for the band of robbers a monk is substituted in the German legend, and for the “open, sesame” and “shut, sesame,” we have “little door, shut,” and “little door, open.” In both the borrowing of a corn-measure is the cause of the secret being revealed—in the one case, to Kasim, the greedy brother of Ali Baba and in the other, to a miserly old hunks; the fate of the latter and the disappearance of all the treasure are essentially German touches. The subsequent incidents of the tale of Ali Baba, in which the main interest of the narrative is concentrated;—Ali Baba’s carrying off the four quarters of his brother’s body and having them sewed together, the artifices by which the slave-girl checkmates the robber-chief and his followers in their attempts to discover the man who had learned the secret of the treasure-cave—her marking all the doors in the street and her pouring boiling oil on the robbers concealed in the oil-skins in the courtyard;—these incidents seem to have been adapted, or imitated, from some version of the world-wide story of the Robbery of the Royal Treasury, as told by Herodotus, of Rhampsinitus, King of Egypt, in which the hero performs a series of similar exploits to recover the headless body of his brother and at the same time escape detection. Moreover, the conclusion of the tale of Ali Baba, where we are told he lived in comfort and happiness on the wealth concealed in the robbers’ cave, and “in after days he showed the hoard to his sons and his sons’ sons, and taught them how the door could be caused to open and shut”—this is near akin to the beginning of Herodotus’ legend of the treasury: the architect who built it left a stone loose, yet so nicely adjusted that it could not be discovered by any one not in the secret, by removing which he gained access to the royal stores of gold, and having taken what he wanted replaced the stone as before; on his deathbed he revealed the secret to his two sons as a legacy for their future maintenance. The discovery of Ali Baba’s being possessed of much money from some coins adhering to the bottom of the corn-measure is an incident of very frequent occurrence in popular fictions; for
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Since the foregoing was in type I discovered that I had overlooked another German version, in Grimm, which preserves some features of the Arabian tale omitted in the legend of The Dummburg:
There were two brothers, one rich, the other poor. The poor brother, one day wheeling a barrow through the forest, had just come to a naked looking mountain, when he saw twelve great wild men approaching, and he hid himself in a tree, believing them to be robbers. “Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, open!” they cried, and the mountain opened, and they went in. Presently they came out, carrying heavy sacks. “Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, shut thyself!” they cried; and the mountain closed and they went away. The poor man went up then and cried. “Semsi mountain Semsi mountain, open!” the mountain opens, he goes in, finds a cavern full of gold, silver, and jewels, fills his pockets with gold only, and coming out cries, “Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, shut thyself!” He returns home and lives happily till his gold is exhausted. Then “he went to his brother to borrow a measure that held a bushel, and brought himself some more.” This he does again, and this time the rich brother smears the inside of the bushel with pitch and when he gets it back finds a gold coin sticking to it, so he taxes his poor brother with having treasure and learns the secret. Off he drives, resolved to bring back, not gold, but jewels. He gets in by saying, “Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, open!” He loads himself with precious stones, but has forgotten the word, and cries only, “Simeli mountain, Simeli mountain, open!” The robbers return and charge him with having twice stolen from them. He vainly protests, “It was not I " and they cut his head off.
Here the twelve wild men represent the forty robbers, and, as in Ali Baba, it is the hero’s brother who falls a victim to his own cupidity. In the Arabian tale the hero climbs up into a tree when he sees the robbers approach, in The Dummburg he hides himself behind a tree to watch the proceedings of the monk; and in Grimm’s version he hides in a tree. On this last-cited story W. Grimm has the following note: “It is remarkable that this story, which is told in the province of Munster, is told also in the Hartz, about The Dummburg, and closely resembles the Eastern story of ‘The Forty Thieves,’ where even the rock Sesam, which falls open at the words Semsi and Semeli, recalls the name of the mountain in the German saga. This name for a mountain is, according to a document in Pistorius (3, 642), very ancient in Germany. A mountain in Grabfeld is called Similes and in a Swiss song a Simeliberg is again mentioned. This makes us think of the Swiss word ‘Sine!,’ for ‘sinbel,’ round. In Meier, No. 53, we find ‘Open, Simson.’ In Prohle’s ’Marcher fur die Jugend,’ No. 30, where the story is amplified, it is Simsimseliger Mountain. There is also a Polish story which is very like it.” Dr. Grimm is mistaken in saying that in the Arabian tale the “rock Sesam” falls open at the words Semsi and Semeli: even in his own version, as the brother finds to his cost, the word Simeli does not open the rock. In Ali Baba the word is “Simsim” (Fr. Sesame), a species of grain, which the brother having forgot, he cries out “Barley.” The “Open, Simson” in Meier’s version and the “Semsi” in Grimm’s story are evidently corruptions of “Simsim,” or “Samsam,” and seem to show that the story did not become current in Germany through Galland’s work.
Dr. N. B. Dennys, in his “Folk-Lore of China, and its Affinities with that of the Aryan and Semitic Races,” p. 134, cites a legend of the cave Kwang-sio-foo in Kiang-si, which reflects part of the tale of Ali Baba: There was in the neighbourhood a poor herdsman named Chang, his sole surviving relative being a grandmother with whom he lived. One day, happening to pass near the cave, he overheard some one using the following words: “Shih mun kai, Kwai Ku hsen sheng lai,” Stone door, open; Mr. Kwai Ku is coming. Upon this the door of the cave opened and the speaker entered. Having remained there for some time he came out, and saying, “Stone door, close; Mr. Kwai Ku is going,” the door again opened and the visitor departed. Chang’s curiosity was naturally excited, and having several times heard the formula repeated, he waited one day until the genie (for such he was) had taken his departure and essayed to obtain an entrance. To his great delight the door yielded, and having gone inside he found himself in a romantic grotto of immense extent. Nothing however in the shape of treasure met his eye, so having fully explored the place he returned to the door, which shut at his bidding, and went home. Upon telling his grandmother of his adventure she expressed a strong wish to see the wonderful cavern; and thither they accordingly went together the next day. Wandering about in admiration of the scenery, they became separated, and Chang at length, supposing that his grandmother had left, passed out of the door and ordered it to shut. Reaching home, he found to his dismay that she had not yet arrived. She must of course have been locked up in the cave, so back he sped and before long was using the magic sentence to obtain access. But alas! the talisman had failed, and poor Chang fell into an agony of apprehension as he reflected that his grandmother would either be starved to death or killed by the enraged genie. While in this perplexity the genie appeared and asked him what was amiss. Chang frankly told him the truth and implored him to open the door. This the genie refused to do, but told him that his grandmother’s disappearance was a matter of fate. The cave demanded a victim. Had it been a male, every succeeding generation of his family would have seen one of its members arrive at princely rank. In the case of a woman her descendants would in a similar way possess power over demons. Somewhat comforted to know that he was not exactly responsible for his grandmother’s death, Chang returned home and in process of time married. His first son duly became Chang tien shih (Chang, the Master of Heaven), who about A.D. 25 was the first holder of an office which has existed uninterruptedly to the present day.
Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad—p. 246.
Precocious Children.—See note at end of the Tale, p. 256.—In the (apocryphal) Arabic Gospel of the Saviour’s Infancy is the following passage:
“Now in the month of Adar, Jesus, after the manner of a King, assembled the boys together. They spread their clothes on the ground and he sat down upon them. Then they put on his head a crown made of flowers, and like chamber-servants stood in his presence, on the right and on the left, as if he was a king. And whoever passed by that way was forcibly dragged by the boys, saying, ‘Come hither and adore the king; then go away.’”
A striking parallel to this is found in the beginning of the Mongolian Tales of Ardshi Bordshi—i.e., the celebrated Indian monarch, Raja Bhoja, as given in Miss Busk’s “Sagas from the Far East,” p. 252.
“Long ages ago there lived a mighty king called Ardshi Bordshi.[FN#411] In the neighbourhood of his residence was a hill where the boys who were tending the calves were wont to pass the time by running up and down. But they had also another custom, and it was that whichever of them won the race was king for the day—an ordinary game enough, only that when it was played in this place the Boy-King thus constituted was at once endowed with such extraordinary importance and majesty that everyone was constrained to treat him as a real king. He had not only ministers and dignitaries among his playfellows, who prostrated themselves before him, and fulfilled all his behests, but whoever passed that way could not choose but pay him homage also."[FN#412]
This is followed by an analogous story to that of Ah Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, under the title of “The False Friend,” in which a merchant on a trading journey entrusts a friend with a valuable jewel to give to his wife on his return home, and the friend retaining it for his own use suborns two men to bear witness that they saw him deliver it to the merchant’s wife, so the King dismisses the suit. But the Boy-King undertakes to try the case de novo; causes the two witnesses to be confined in separate places, each with a piece of clay which he is required to make into the form of the jewel, and the models are found to be different one from the other, and both from the shape of the jewel as described by the false friend. A similar story occurs in several Indian collections, with a Kazi instead of the Boy-King.
A curious instance of precocity is related in the Third Book of the “Masnavi” (see ante p. 365), of which Mr. E. H. Whinfield gives an outline in his admirable and most useful abridgment of that work: The boys wished to obtain a holiday, and the sharpest of them suggested that when the master came into school each boy should condole with him on his alleged sickly appearance. Accordingly, when he entered, one said, “O master, how pale you are looking! and another said, You are looking very ill to-day, and so on. The master at first answered that there was nothing the matter with him, but as one boy after another continued assuring him that he looked very ill, he was at length deluded into imagining that he must really be ill. So
Another example of juvenile cleverness is found in a Persian collection of anecdotes entitled “Lata’yif At-Taw’ayif,” by ’Ali ibn Husain Al-Va’iz Al-Kashifi: One day Nurshirvan saw in a dream that he was drinking with a frog out of the same cup. When he awoke he told this dream to his vazir, but he knew not the interpretation of it. The king grew angry and said, “How long have I maintained thee, that if any difficulty should arise thou mightest unloose the knot of it, and if any matter weighed on my heart thou shouldst lighten it? Now I give thee three days, that thou mayest find out the meaning of this dream, and remove the trouble of my mind; and if, within that space, thou art not successful, I will kill thee.” The vazir went from the presence of Nurshirvan confounded and much in trouble. He gathered together all the sages and interpreters of dreams, and told the matter to them, but they were unable to explain it; and the vazir resigned his soul to death. But this story was told in the city, and on the third day he heard that there was a mountain, ten farsangs distant from the city, in which was a cave, and in this cave a sage who had chosen the path of seclusion, and lived apart from mankind, and had turned his face to the wall. The vazir set out for this place of retirement, saying to himself, “Perhaps he will be able to lay a plaster on my wound, and relieve it from the throbbings of care.” So he mounted his horse, and went to find the sage. At the moment he arrived at the hill a company of boys were playing together. One of them cried out with a loud voice, “The vazir is running everywhere in search of an interpreter, and all avails him nothing; now the interpretation of the dream is with me, and the truth of it is clear to me.” When these words reached the ears of the vazir he drew in the reins, and calling the boy to him asked him, “What is thy name? He replied, “Buzurjmibr.” The vazir said “All the sages and interpreters have failed in loosing the knot of this difficulty—how dost thou, so young in years, pretend to be able to do it? He replied, “All the world is not given to every one.” The vazir said, “If thou speakest truth, explain.” Said the boy “Take me to the monarch, that I may there unloose the knot of this difficulty.” The vazir said, “If thou shouldst fail, what then will come of it?” The boy replied, “I will give up my own blood to the king, that they may slay me instead of thee.” The vazir took the boy with him, returned, and told the whole matter
This story has been imported into the “History of the Seven Wise Masters of Rome,” the European form of the Book of Sindibad, where the prince discovers to his father the paramour of his step-mother, the empress, in the person of a young man disguised as one of her maid-servants, and its presence in the work is quite inconsistent with the lady’s violent lust after the young prince. There is a similar tale in the Hebrew version, “Mishle Sandabar,” but the disguised youth is not detected. Vatsyayana, in his “Kama Sutra” (or Aphorisms of Love), speaks of it as a common practice in India thus to smuggle men into the women’s apartments in female attire. In the Introduction to the “Katha Sarit Sagara,” Vararuchi relates how King Yogananda saw his queen leaning out of a window and asking questions of a Bahman guest that was looking up. That trivial circumstance threw the king into a passion, and he gave orders that the Brahman should be put to death) for jealousy interferes with discernment. Then as that Brahman was being led off to the place of execution in order that he should be put to death, a fish in the market laughed aloud, though it was dead. The king hearing it immediately prohibited for the present the execution of the Brahman, and asked Vararuchi
Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu—p. 256.
How, in the name of all that is wonderful—how has it happened that this ever-delightful tale is not found in any text of The Nights? And how could it be supposed for a moment that Galland was capable of conceiving such a tale— redolent, as it is, of the East and of Fairyland? Not that Fairyland where “True Thomas,” otherwise ycleped Thomas the Rymer, otherwise Thomas of Erceldoune, passed several years in the bewitching society of the Fairy Queen, years which appeared to him as only so many moments: but Eastern Fairyland, with all its enchanting scenes; where priceless gems are as plentiful as “autumnal leaves which strong the brooks in Vallombrosa;” where, in the royal banqueting hall, illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, in candelabra of the finest amber and the purest crystal are bands of charming damsels, fairest of form and
Having thus blown off the steam—I mean to say, having thus ventilated the enthusiasm engendered by again reading the tale of Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu, I am now in a fitter frame of mind for the business of examining some versions and variants of it, for though the tale has not yet been found in Arabic, it is known from the banks of Ganga to the snow-clad hills and vales of Iceland—that strange land whose heart is full of the fiercest fires. This tale, like that of Zayn al-Asnam, comprises two distinct stories, which have no necessary connection, to wit, (1) the adventures of the Three Princes, each in quest of the rarest treasure, wherewith to win the beautiful Princess Nur-en-Nihar; and (2) the subsequent history of the third Prince and the Peri Banu. The oldest known form of the story concludes with the recovery of the lady—not from death’s door, but from a giant who had carried her off, and the rival claims of the heroes to the hand of the lady are left undecided: certainly a most unsatisfactory ending, though it must be confessed the case was, as the priest found that of Paddy and the stolen pullet, somewhat “abstruse.” In the “Vetalapanchavinsati,” or Twenty-five Tales of a Vampyre (concerning which collection see Appendix to the preceding volumes, p. 230), the fifth recital is to this purpose:
There was a Brahman in Ajjayini (Oojein) whose name was Harisvamin; he had a son named Devasvamin and a daughter far famed for her wondrous beauty and rightly called Somaprabha (Moonlight). When the maiden had attained marriageable age, she declared to her parents that she was only to be married to a man who possessed heroism, or knowledge, or magic power. It happened soon after this that Harisvamin was sent by the king on state business to the Dekkan, and while there a young Brahman, who had heard the report of Somaprabha’s beauty, came to him as a suitor for the hand of his daughter. Harisvamin informed him of the qualifications which her husband must possess, and the Brahman answered that he was endowed with magic power, and having shown this to the father’s satisfaction, he promised to give him his daughter on the seventh day from that time. In like manner, at home, the son and the wife of Harisvamin had, unknown to each other, promised Somaprabha to a young man who was skilled in the use of missile weapons and was very brave, and to a youth who possessed knowledge of the past, the present, and the future; and the marriage was also fixed to take place on the seventh day. When Harisvamin returned home he at once told his wife and son of the contract he has entered into with the young Brahman, and they in their turn acquainted him of their separate engagements, and all were much perplexed what course to adopt in the circumstances.
On the seventh day the three suitors arrived, but Somaprabha was found to have disappeared in some inexplicable manner. The father then appealed to the man of knowledge, saying, “Tell me where my daughter is gone?” He replied, “She has been carried off by a rakshasa to his habitation in the Vindhya forest.” Then quoth the man of magic power “Be of good cheer, for I will take you in a moment where the possessor of knowledge says she is.” And forthwith he prepared a magic chariot that could fly through the air, provided all sorts of weapons, and made Harisvamin, the man of knowledge, and the brave man enter it along with himself, and in a moment carried them to the dwelling of the rakshasa. Then followed a wonderful fight between the brave man and the rakshasa, and in a short time the hero cut off his head, after which they took Somaprabha into the chariot and quickly returned to Harisvamin’s house. And now arose a great dispute between the three suitors. Said the man of knowledge, “If I had not known where the maiden was how could she have been discovered?” The man of magic argued, “If I had not made this chariot that can fly through the air, how could you all have come and returned in a moment?” Then the brave man said, “If I had not slain the rakshasa, how could the maiden have been rescued?” While they were thus wrangling Harisvamin remained silent, perplexed in mind. The Vampyre, having told this story to the King, demanded to know to whom the maiden should have been given. The King replied, “She
The Hindi version ("Baytal Pachisi”) corresponds with the Sanskrit, but in the Tamil version the father, after hearing from each of the three suitors an account of his accomplishments, promises to give his daughter to “one of them.” Meanwhile a giant comes and carries off the damsel. There is no difference in the rest of the story.
In the Persian Parrot-Book ("Tuti Nama” ) where the tale is also found [FN#414]—it is the 34th recital of the loquacious bird in the India Office Ms. No. 2573, the 6th in B. Gerrans’ partial translation, 1792, and the 22nd in Kaderi’s abridgment—the first suitor says that his art is to discover anything lost and to predict future events; the second can make a horse of wood which would fly through the air; and the third was an unerring archer.
In the Persian “Sindibad Nama,” a princess, while amusing herself in a garden with her maidens, is carried away by a demon to his cave in the mountains. The king proclaims that he will give his daughter in marriage to whoever should bring her back. Four brothers offer themselves for the undertaking: one is a guide who has travelled over the world; the second is a daring robber, who would take the prey even from the lion’s mouth; the third is a brave warrior; and the fourth is a skilful physician. The guide leads the three others to the demons’ cave, the robber steals the damsel while the demon is absent; the physician, finding her at death’s door, restored her to perfect health; while the warrior puts to flight a host of demons who sallied out of the cave.
The Sanskrit story has undergone a curious transformation among the Kalmuks. In the 9th Relation of Siddhi Kur (a Mongolian version of the Vampyre Tales) six youths are companions: an astrologer, a smith, a doctor, a mechanic, a painter, and a rich man’s son. At the mouth of a great river each plants a tree of life and separates, taking different roads, having agreed to meet again at the same spot, when if the tree of any of them is found to be withered it will be a token that he is dead. The rich man’s son marries a beautiful girl, who is taken from him by the Khan, and the youth is at the same time put to death by the Khan’s soldiers and buried under a great rock. When the four other young men meet at the time and place appointed they find the tree of the rich youth withered. Thereupon the astrologer by his art discovers where the youth is buried; the smith breaks the rock asunder; the physician restores the youth to life, and he tells them how the Khan had
Coming back to Europe we find the primitive form of the story partly preserved in a Greek popular version given in Hahn’s collection: Three young men are in love with the same girl, and agree to go away and meet again at a given time, when he who shall have learned the best craft shall marry the girl. They meet after three years’ absence. One has become a famous astronomer; the second is so skilful a physician that he can raise the dead, and the third can run faster than the wind. The astronomer looks at the girl’s star and knows from its trembling that she is on the point of death. The physician prepares a medicine which the third runs off with at the top of his speed, and pours it down the girl’s throat just in time to save her life—though, for the matter of that, she might as well have died, since the second suitor was able to resuscitate the dead!
But the German tale of the Four Clever Brothers, divested of the preliminary incidents which have been brought into it from different folk-tales, more nearly approaches the form of the original, as we may term the Sanskrit story for convenience’ sake: A poor man sends his four sons into the world, each to learn some craft by which he might gain his own livelihood. After travelling together for some time they came to a place where four roads branched off and there they separated, each going along one of the roads, having agreed to meet at the same spot that day four years. One learns to be an excellent astronomer and, on quitting, his master gives him a telescope,[FN#415] saying, “With this thou canst see whatever takes place either on earth or in heaven, and nothing can remain concealed from thee.” Another becomes a most expert thief. The third learns to be a sharpshooter and gets from his master a gun which would never fail him: whatever he aimed at he was sure to hit. And the youngest becomes a very clever tailor and is presented by his master with a needle, which could sew anything together, hard or soft. At the end of the four years they met according to
The story has assumed a droll form among the Albanians, in which no fewer than seven remarkably endowed youths play their parts in rescuing a king’s daughter from the Devil, who had stolen her out of the palace. One of the heroes could hear far off; the second could make the earth open; the third could steal from any one without his knowing it; the fourth could throw an object to the end of the world; the fifth could erect an impregnable tower; the sixth could bring down anything however high it might be in the air and the seventh could catch whatever fell from any height. So they set off together, and after travelling along way, the first lays his ear to the ground. “I hear him,” he says. Then the second causes the earth to open, and down they go, and find the Devil
The charming history of Prince Ahmad and his fairy bride is “conspicuous from its absence” in all these versions, but it re-appears in the Italian collection of Nerucci: “Novelle Popolari Montalesi,” No. xl., p. 335, with some variations from Galland’s story:
A certain king had three daughters, and a neighbouring king had three sons, who were much devoted to the chase. They arrived at the city of the first king, and all fell in love with his daughter[FN#416] and wanted to marry her. Her father said it was impossible to content them all, but if one of them would ask her, and if he pleased her, he would not oppose the marriage. They could not agree which it was to be, and her father proposed that they should all travel, and the one who at the end of six months brought the most beautiful and wonderful present should marry her. They set out in different directions and at the end of six months they meet by appointment at a certain inn. The eldest brings a magic carpet on which he is wafted whithersoever he will. (It goes a hundred miles in a day.) The second brings a telescope which shows whatever is happening a hundred miles away. The youngest brings three stones of a grape, one of which put into the mouth of a person who is dying restores him to life. They at once test the telescope by wishing to see the princess, and they find her dying—at the last gasp indeed. By means of the carpet they reach the palace m time to save her life with one of the grape-stones. Each claims the victory. Her father, almost at his wits’ end to decide the question, decrees
Almost suspiciously like the story in Galland in many of the details is an Icelandic version in Powell and Magnusson’s collection, yet I cannot conceive how the peasantry of that country could have got it out of “Les Mille et une Nuits.” There are two ways by which the story might have reached them independently of Galland’s work: the Arabs and Persians traded extensively in former times with Scandinavia, through Russia, and this as well as other Norse tales of undoubtedly Eastern extraction may have been communicated by the same channel;[FN#417] or the Norsemen may have taken it back with them from the South of Europe. But however this may be, the Icelandic version is so quaint in its diction, has such a fresh aroma about it, and such novel particulars, that I feel justified in giving it here in full:
It is said that once, in the days of old, there was a good and wealthy king who ruled over a great and powerful realm; but neither his name nor that of his kingdom is given, nor the latter’s whereabouts in the world. He had a queen, and by her three sons, who were all fine youths and hopeful, and the king loved them well. The king had taken, too, a king’s daughter from a neighbouring kingdom, to foster her, and she was brought up with his sons. She was of the same age as they, and the most beautiful and accomplished lady that had ever been seen in those days, and the king loved her in no way less than his own sons. When the princess was of age, all the king’s sons fell in love with her, and things even went so far that they all of them engaged her at once, each in his own name. Their father, being the princess’s foster-father, had the right of bestowing her in marriage, as her own father was dead. But as he was fond of all his sons equally the answer he gave them was, that he left it to the lady’s own choice to take for a husband whichever of the brothers she loved the most. On a certain day he had the princess called up to him and declared his will to her, telling her that she might choose for a husband whichever she liked best of his sons. The princess answered, “Bound I am in duty to obey your words. But as to this choice of one of your sons to be my husband I am in the greatest perplexity; for I must confess they are all equally dear to me, and I cannot choose one before the other.” When the king heard this answer of the princess he found himself in a new embarrassment, and thought a long while what he could do that should be equally agreeable to all parties, and at last hit upon the following decision of the matter: that all his sons should after a year’s travel return each with a precious thing, and that he who had the finest thing should be the princess’s husband. This decision the king’s sons found to be a just one and they agreed to meet after one year at a certain castle in the country, whence they should go all together, to the town, in order to lay their gifts before the princess. And now their departure from the country was arranged as well as could be.
First the tale tells of the eldest, that he went from one land to another, and from one city to another, in search of a precious thing, but found nowhere anything that at all suited his ideas. At last the news came to his ears that there was a princess who had so fine a spy-glass that nothing so marvellous had ever been seen or heard of before. In it one could see all over the world, every place, every city, every man, and every living being that moved on the face of the earth, and what every living thing in the world was doing. Now the prince thought that surely there could be no more precious thing at all likely to turn up for him than this telescope; he therefore went to the princess, in order to buy the spy-glass if possible. But by no means could he prevail upon the king’s daughter to part with her spy-glass, till he had told her his whole story and why he wanted it, and used all his powers of entreaty. As might be expected, he paid for it well. Having got it he returned home, glad at his luck, and hoping to wed the king’s daughter.
The story next turns to the second son. He had to struggle with the same difficulties as his elder brother. He travelled for a long while over the wide world without finding anything at all suitable, and thus for a time he saw no chance of his wishes being fulfilled. Once he came into a very well-peopled city; and went about in search of precious things among the merchants, but neither did he find nor even see what he wanted. He heard that there lived a short way from the town a dwarf, the cleverest maker of curious and cunning things. He therefore resolved to go to the dwarf in order to try whether he could be persuaded to make him any costly thing. The dwarf said that he had ceased to make things of that sort now and he must beg to be excused from making anything of the kind for the prince. But he said that he had a piece of cloth, made in his younger days, with which however, he was very unwilling to part. The king’s son asked the nature and use of the cloth The dwarf answered, “On this cloth one can go all over the world, as well through the air as on the water. Runes are on it, which must be understood by him who uses it.” Now the prince saw that a more precious thing than this could scarcely be found, and therefore asked the dwarf by all means to let him have the cloth. And although the dwarf would not at first part with his cloth at all, yet at last, hearing what would happen if the king’s son did not get it, he sold it to him at a mighty high price. The prince was truly glad to have got the cloth, for it was not only a cloth of great value, but also the greatest of treasures m other respects, having gold-seams and jewel-embroidery. After this he returned home, hoping to get the best of his brothers in the contest for the damsel.
The youngest prince left home last of all the three brethren.[FN#418] First he travelled from one village to another in his own country, and went about asking for precious things of every merchant he met on his way, as also on all sides where there was the slightest hope of his getting what he wanted. But all his endeavours were in vain, and the greater part of the year was spent in fruitless search till at last he waxed sad in mind at his lot. At this time he came into a well-peopled city, whereto people were gathered from all parts of the world. He went from one merchant to another till at last he came to one who sold apples.[FN#419] This merchant said he had an apple that was of so strange a nature that if it was put into the arm-hole of a dying man he would at once return to life. He declared that it was the property of his family and had always been used in the family as a medicine. As soon as the king’s son heard this he would by all means have the apple, deeming that he would never be able to find a thing more acceptable to the king’s daughter than this. He therefore asked the merchant to sell him the apple and told him all the story of his search, and that his earthly welfare was based upon his being in no way inferior to his brethren in his choice of precious things for the princess. The merchant felt pity for the prince when he had told him his story, so much so that he sold him the apple, and the prince returned home, glad and comforted at his happy luck.
Now nothing more is related of the three brothers till they met together at the place before appointed. When they were all together each related the striking points in his travelling. All being here, the eldest brother thought that he would be the first to see the princess and find out how she was and therefore he took forth his spy-glass and turned it towards the city. But what saw he? The beloved princess lying in her bed, in the very jaws of death! The king, his father, and all the highest nobles of the court were standing round the bed in the blackness of sorrow, sad in their minds, and ready to receive the last sigh of the fair princess. When the prince saw this lamentable sight he was grieved beyond measure. He told his brothers what he had seen and they were no less struck with sorrow than himself. They began bewailing loudly, saying that they would give all they had never to have undertaken this journey, for then at least they would have been able to perform the last offices for the fair princess. But in the midst of these bewailings the second brother bethought him of his cloth, and remembered that he could get to the town on it in a moment. He told this to his brothers and they were glad at such good and unexpected news. Now the cloth was unfolded and they all stepped on to it, and in one of moment it was high in the air and in the next inside the town. When they were there they made all haste to reach the room of the princess, where everybody wore an air deep
Now some time went by until the princess was fully recovered. Then a large meeting was called together, at which the brothers were bidden to show their treasures. First the eldest made his appearance, and showing his spy-glass told what a wonderful thing it was, and also how it was due to this glass that the life of the fair princess had ever been saved, as he had seen through it how matters stood in the town. He therefore did not doubt for a moment that his gift was the one which would secure him the fair princess.
Next stepped forward the second brother with the cloth. Having described its powers, he said, “I am of opinion that my brother’s having seen the princess first would have proved of little avail had I not had the cloth, for thereupon we came so quickly to the place to save the princess; and I must declare that to my mind, the cloth is the chief cause of the king’s daughter’s recovery.”
Next stepped forward the youngest prince and said, as he laid the apple before the people, “Little would the glass and the cloth have availed to save the princess’s live had I not had the apple. What could we brothers have profited in being only witnesses of the beloved damsel’s death? What would this have done, but awaken our grief and regret? It is due alone to the apple that the princess is yet alive; wherefore I find myself the most deserving of her.”
Then a long discussion arose in the meeting, and the decision at last came out, that all the three things had worked equally towards the princess’s recovery, as might be seen from the fact that if one had been wanting the others would have been worthless. It was therefore declared that, as all gifts had equal claim to the prize, no one could decide to whom the princess should belong.
After this the king planned another contrivance in order to come to some end of the matter. He soon should try their skill in shooting, and he who proved to be the ablest shooter of them should have the princess. So a mark was raised and the eldest brother stepped forward with his bow and quiver. He shot, and no great distance from the mark fell his arrow. After that stepped forward the second brother, and his arrow well-nigh reached the mark. Last of all stepped forward the third and youngest brother, and his arrow seemed to go farther than the others, but in spite of continued search for many days it could not be found. The king decided in this matter that his second son should marry the princess They were married accordingly, and as the king, the father of the princess, was dead, his daughter now succeeded him, and her husband became king over his wife’s inheritance. They are now out of this tale, as is also the eldest brother, who settled in life abroad.
The youngest brother stayed at home with his father, highly displeased at the decision the latter had given concerning the marriage of the princess. He was wont to wander about every day where he fancied his arrow had fallen, and at last he found it fixed in an oak in the forest, and saw that it had by far outstripped the mark. He now called together witnesses to the place where the arrow was, with the intention of bringing about some justice m his case. But of this there was no chance, for the king said he could by no means alter his decision. At this the king’s son was so grieved that he went well-nigh out of his wits. One day he busked for a journey, with the full intention of never again setting foot m his country. He took with him all he possessed of fine and precious things, nobody knowing his rede, not even his father, the king.
He went into a great forest and wandered about there many days, without knowing whither he was going, and at last, yielding to hunger and weariness, he found himself no longer equal to travelling; so he sat down under a tree, thinking that his sad and sorrowful life would here come to a close. But after he had sat thus awhile he saw ten people, all in fine attire and bright armour, come riding towards the stone. On arriving there they dismounted, and having greeted the king’s son begged him to go with them, and mount the spare horse they had with them, saddled and bridled in royal fashion. He accepted this offer and mounted the horse, and after this they rode on their way till they came to a large city. The riders dismounted and led the prince into the town, which was governed by a young and beautiful maiden-queen. The riders led the king’s son at once to the virgin-queen, who received him with great kindness. She told him that she had heard of all the ill-luck that had befallen him and also that he had fled from his father. “Then,” quoth she, “a burning love for you was kindled in my breast and a longing to heal your wounds. You must know that it was I who sent the ten riders to find you out and bring you hither. I give you the chance of staying here; I offer you the rule of my whole kingdom, and I will try to sweeten your embittered life;— this is all that I am able to do.” Although the prince was in a sad and gloomy state of mind, he saw nothing better than to accept this generous offer and agree to the marriage with the maiden-queen. A grand feast was made ready, and they were married according to the ways of that country. And the young king took at once in hand the government, which he managed with much ability.
Now the story turns homewards, to the old king. After the disappearance of his son he became sad and weary of life, being, as he was, sinking in age. His queen also had died sometime since. One day it happened that a wayfaring woman came to the palace. She had much knowledge about many things and knew how to tell tales.[FN#420] The king was greatly delighted with her story-telling and she got soon into his favour. Thus some time passed. But in course of time the king fell deeply in love with this woman, and at last married her and made her his queen, in spite of strong dissent from the court. Shortly this new queen began meddling in the affairs of the government, and it soon turned out that she was spoiling everything by her redes, whenever she had the chance. Once it happened that the queen spoke to the king and said, “Strange indeed it seems to me that you make no inquiry about your youngest son’s running away: smaller faults have been often chastised than that. You must have heard that he has become king in one of the neighbouring kingdoms, and that it is a common tale that he is going to invade your dominions with a great army whenever he gets the wished-for opportunity, in order to avenge the injustice he thinks he has suffered in that bygone bridal question. Now I want you to be the first in throwing this danger off-hand.” The king showed little interest in the matter and paid to his wife’s chattering but little attention. But she contrived at length so to speak to him as to make him place faith in her words, and he asked her to give him good redes, that this matter might be arranged in such a way as to be least observed by other folk. The queen said, “You must send men with gifts to him and pray him to come to you for an interview, in order to arrange certain political matters before your death, as also to strengthen your friendship with an interchange of marks of kindred. And then I will give you further advice as to what to do.” The king was satisfied with this and equipped his messengers royally.
Then the messengers came before the young king, saying they were sent by his father, who wished his son to come and see him without delay. To this the young king answered well, and lost no time in bushing his men and himself. But when his queen knew this she said he would assuredly rue this journey. The king went off, however, and nothing is said of his travels till he came to the town where his father lived. His father received him rather coldly, much to the wonder and amazement of his son. And when he had been there a short while his father gave him a good chiding for having run away. “Thereby,” said the old king, “you have shown full contempt of myself and caused me such sorrow as well-nigh brought me to the grave. Therefore, according to the law, you have deserved to die; but as you have delivered yourself up into my power and are, on the other hand, my son, I have no mind to have you killed. But I have three tasks for you which you must have performed
Then the old king turned his back upon his son and went off. Away went also the young king, no farewells being said, and nothing is told of his travels till he came home to his realm. He was then very sad and heavy-minded, and the queen seeing this asked him earnestly what had befallen him and what caused the gloom on his mind. He declared that this did not regard her. The queen answered, “I know that tasks must have been set you which it will not prove easy to perform. But what will it avail you to sit sullen and sad on account of such things? Behave as a man, and try if these tasks may not indeed be accomplished.”
Now the king thought it best tell the queen all that had happened and how matters stood. “All this,” said the queen, “is the rede of your stepmother, and it would be well indeed if she could do you no more harm by it than she has already tried to do. She has chosen such difficulties she thought you would not easily get over, but I can do something here. The tent is in my possession, so there is that difficulty over. The water you have to get is a short way hence but very hard of approach. It is in a well and the well is in a cave hellishly dark. The well is watched by seven lions and three serpents, and from these monsters nobody has ever returned alive; and the nature of the water is that it has no healing power whatever unless it be drawn when all these monsters are awake. Now I will risk the undertaking of drawing the water.” So the queen made herself ready to go to the cave, taking with her seven oxen and three pigs. When she came before the cave she ordered the oxen to be killed and thrown before the lions and the pigs before the serpents. And while these monsters tore and devoured the carcases the queen stepped down into the well and drew as much water as she wanted. And she left the cave just in time as the beasts finished devouring their bait. After this the queen went home to the palace having thus got over the second trial.
Then she came to her husband and said, “Now two of the tasks are done, but the third and indeed the hardest, of them is left. Moreover, this is one you must perform yourself, but I can give you some hints as to whither to go for it. I have got a half brother who rules over an island not far from hence. He is three feet high, and has one eye in the middle of his forehead. He has a beard thirty ells long, stiff and hard as a hog’s bristles. He has a dog’s snout and cat’s ears, and I should scarcely fancy he has his like in the whole
So he did everything that he was bidden by the queen, and when he appeared before the one-eyed king he was stupefied at his tremendous ugliness and his bugbear appearance; but he plucked up courage as best he could and gave him the letter and the ring. When the king saw the letter and the ring his face brightened up, and he said, “Surely my sister finds herself in straits now, as she sends me this ring.” And when he had read the letter he bade the king, his brother-in-law, stand up, and declared that he was ready to comply with his sister’s wish and to go off at once without delay. He seized his staff and started away, but stopped now and then for his brother-in-law and his suite, to whom he gave a good chiding for their slowness.[FN#423] They continued thus their march until they came to the palace of the queen, the ugly king’s sister; but when they arrived there the one-eyed king cried with a roaring voice to his sister, and asked her what she wished, as she had troubled him to come so far from home. She then told him all the matter as it really was and begged him to help her husband out of the trial put before him. He said he was ready to do so, but would brook no delay.
Now both kings went off, and nothing is told of their journey until they came to the old king. The young king announced to his father his coming and that he brought with him what he had ordered last year. He wished his father to call together a ting[FN#424] in order that he might show openly how he had performed his tasks. This was done, and the king and the queen and other great folk were assembled. First the tent was put forward and nobody could find fault with it. Secondly the young king gave the wondrous healing water to his father. The queen was prayed to taste it and see if it was the right water, taken at the right time. She said that both things were as they should be. Then said the old king, “Now the third and heaviest of all the tasks is left: come, and have it off your hands quickly.”
After the death of the queen, who was killed of course when she turned into a troll, the king confessed that all the tasks which he had given his son to perform were undeserved and that he had acted thus, egged on by the queen. He called his son to him and humbly begged his forgiveness for what he had done against him. He declared he would atone for it by giving into his hand all that kingdom, while he himself only wished to live in peace and quiet for the rest of his days. So the young king sent for his queen and for the courtiers whom he loved most. And, to make a long story short, they gave up their former kingdom to the king with one eye, as a reward, for his lifetime, but governed the realm of the old king to a high age, in great glee and happiness,
The Two Sisters Who Envied Their Cadette—p. 313.
Legends of castaway infants are common to the folk-lore of almost all countries and date far back into antiquity. The most usual mode of exposing them—to perish or be rescued, as chance might direct—is placing them in a box and launching them into a river. The story of Moses in the bulrushes, which must of course be familiar to everybody, is not only paralleled in ancient Greek and Roman legends (e.g. Perseus, Cyrus, Romulus), but finds its analogue in Babylonian folk-lore.[FN#425] The leading idea of the tale of the Envious Sisters, who substituted a puppy, a kitten, and a rat for the three babes their young sister the queen had borne and sent the little innocents away to be destroyed, appealing, as it does to the strongest of human instincts, is the theme of many popular fictions from India to Iceland. With a malignant mother-in-law in place of the two sisters, it is the basis of a mediaeval European romance entitled “The Knight of the Swan,” and of a similar tale which occurs in “Dolopathus,” the oldest version of the “Seven Wise Masters,” written in Latin prose about the year 1180: A king while hunting loses his way in a forest and coming to a fountain perceives a beautiful lady, whom he carries home and duly espouses much against the will of his mother, Matabrun. Some time after, having to lead his knights and men-at-arms against an enemy, he commits the queen, now far advanced in pregnancy to the care
In another mediaeval work, from which Chaucer derived his Man of Law’s Tale, the Life of Constance, by Nicholas Trivet, an English Dominican monk, the saintly heroine is married to a king, in whose absence at the wars his mother plots against her daughter-in- law. When Constance gives birth to a son, the old queen causes letters to be written to the king, in which his wife is declared to be an evil spirit in the form of a woman and that she had borne, not a human child, but a hideous monster. The king, in reply, commands Constance to be tended carefully until his return. But the traitress contrives by means of letters forged in the king’s name to have Constance and her son sent to sea in a ship, where she meets with strange adventures. Needless to say, the old queen’s wicked devices come to naught.
The story of the Envious Sisters as told by Galland was known in Italy (as Dr. W. Grimm points out in the valuable notes to his K. u. H.M.) many generations before the learned Frenchman was born, through the “Pleasant Nights” of Straparola. That Galland took his story from the Italian novelist it is impossible to believe, since, as Mr. Coote has observed, Straparola’s work “was already known in France for a couple of centuries through a popular French translation,” and Galland would at once have been an easily convicted copyist. Moreover the story, imitated from Straparola, by Madame d’Aulnois, under the title of “La Belie Etoile et Le Prince Cheri,” had been published before Galland’s last two volumes appeared, and both those writers had the same publisher. It is clear, therefore, that Galland neither invented the story nor borrowed it from Straparola or Madame d’Aulnois. Whence, then, did he obtain it?—that is the question. His Arabic source has not yet been discovered, but a variant of the world-wide story is at the present day orally current in Egypt and forms No. xi. of “Comes Arabes Modernes. Recueillis et Traduits par Guillaume Spitta Bey” (Paris, 1883), of which the following is a translation:
Modern Arabic version.
There was once a King who said to his vazir, “Let us take a walk through the town during the night.” In walking about they came to a house where they heard people talking, and stopping before it they heard a girl say, “If the King would marry me, I would make him a tart (or pie) so large that it would serve for him and his army.” And another said, “If the King would marry me, I would make him a tent that would shelter him and his whole army.” Then a third said, “If the King would marry me, I would present him with a daughter and a son, with golden hair, and hair of hyacinth colour alternately; if they should weep, it would thunder, and if they should laugh, the sun and moon would appear.” The King on hearing these words went away, and on the following day he sent for the three girls and made the contract of marriage with them. He passed the first night with the one who had spoken first, and said to her, “Where is the tart that would be sufficient for me and my army?” She answered him, “The words of the night are greased with butter: when day appears they melt away.” The next night he slept with the second, saying to her, “Where is the tent which would be large enough for me and my army?” She answered him, “It was an idea that came into my mind.” So the King ordered them to go down into the kitchen among the slaves. He passed the third night with the tattle one, saying, “Where are the boy and girl whose hair is to be like gold and hyacinth?” She replied, “Tarry with me nine months and nine minutes.” In due time she became pregnant, and on the night of her confinement the midwife was sent for. Then the other wife of the King went and met her in the street and said to her, “When
Now there was a fisherman who lived on an island with his wife, and they had no children. On the morrow he went to the water-side to fish and found a box driven on to the shore He carried it home to his wife, and placing it between them, he said, “Listen, my dear, I am going to make a bargain with you: if this contains money, it will be for me, if it contains children, they will be for you.” She replied, “Very well, I am quite content.” They then opened the box and found in it a baby boy and girl. The baby boy had his finger in the baby girl’s mouth and the latter had her finger in his mouth, and they were sucking one another’s fingers. The woman took them out of the box and prayed to Heaven, “Make milk come into my breasts, for the sake of these little ones.” And by the Almighty power the milk came into her breasts, and she continued to bring them up until they had reached the age of twelve years.
One day the fisherman caught two large white fish, and the youth said to him, “These two white fish are pretty, my father; I will take and sell them, or carry them as a present to the King.” So the boy took them and went away. He sat down with them in the Fish Market: people gathered about him, and those who did not look at the fish looked at the boy. The King also came past, and seeing the two white fish and the boy he called to him saying, “What is the price, my lad?” The boy answered, “They are a present for you, my prince.” Thereupon the King took him to the palace and said to him, “What is your name?” and he replied, “My name is Muhammed, and my father is the fisherman who lives on the island.” Then the King gave him thirty mahbubs, saying, “Go away, discreet one, and every day return here to my house.” So the lad returned home and gave the money to his father. The next morning two more white fish were caught and Muhammed carried them to the King, who took him into his garden and made him sit down opposite him. The King remained there drinking his wine and looking on the beauty of the youth: love for the lad entered his heart and he remained with him two hours.[FN#429] Then he gave orders to provide the youth with a horse for his use in coming to and returning from his house, and Muhammed mounted the horse and rode home.
When he visited the King the following day he was again led into the garden, and the other wife of the King, looking from her window saw the lad and recognised him. She at once sent for the old midwife, and said to her, “I bade you kill the children, yet they are still living upon the earth.” Replied the old woman, “Have patience with me, O Queen for three days, and I will kill him.” Then she went away, and having procured a pitcher tied it to her girdle, bewitched it, mounted on it, and struck it with a whip, and forthwith the pitcher flew away with her and descended upon the island near the fisherman’s cottage.[FN#430] She found the young girl, Muhammed’s sister, sitting alone, and thus addressed her: “My dear, why are you thus alone and sad? Tell your brother to fetch you the rose of Arab Zandyk, that it may sing to you and amuse you, instead of your being thus lonely and low-spirited.” When her brother came home, he found her displeased and asked her, “Why are you vexed, my sister?” She replied, “I should like the rose of Arab Zandyk, that it may sing to me and amuse me.” “At your command,” said he; “I am going to bring it to you.”
He mounted his horse and travelled into the midst of the desert, where he perceived an ogress seated and pounding wheat with a millstone on her arm. Alighting, he came up to her and saluted her saying, “Peace be with you, mother ogress.” She replied, “If your safety did not prevail over your words, I would eat the flesh from off your bones.” Then she asked, “Where are you going, Muhammed the Discreet?” He answered, “I am in quest of the singing rose of Arab Zandyk.” She showed him the way, saying, “You will find before the palace a kid and a dog fastened, and before the kid a piece of meat and before the dog a bunch of clover: lift the meat and throw it to the dog, and give the clover to the kid.[FN#431] Then the door will open for you: enter and pluck the rose; return immediately without looking behind you, because, if you do so, you will be bewitched and changed into stone, like the enchanted ones who are there.” Muhammed the Discreet carefully followed the instructions of the ogress: plucked the rose, went out by the door, put back the meat before the kid and the clover before the dog, and carried the rose home to his sister.
Then he again went to the house of the King, who saluted him and said, “Where hast thou been, discreet one? Why hast thou absented thyself so long from my house?” And he answered, “I was sick, O King.” Then the King took him by the hand and entered the garden, and both sat down. The wife of the King saw them seated together, and sending for the midwife she angrily asked, “Why do you befool me, old woman?” She replied “Have patience with me for three days more, O Queen.” Then she mounted her pitcher and arriving at the house of the young girl, she said, “Has thy brother fetched thee the rose?” “Yes,” answered the girl, “but it does not sing.” Quoth the old woman, “It only sings with its looking-glass,” and then went away. When the youth returned he found his sister vexed, and he asked, “Why are you so sad, my sister?” She replied, “I should like the looking-glass of the rose, by means of which it sings.” Quoth he, “I obey your orders, and will bring it to you.”
Muhammed the Discreet rode on till he came to the ogress, who asked him what he wanted. “I wish,” said he, “the looking-glass of the rose.” “Well, go and do with the dog and kid as you did before. When you have entered the garden you will find some stairs go up them, and in the first room you come to you will find the mirror suspended. Take it, and set out directly, without looking behind you. If the earth shake with you, keep a brave heart, otherwise you will have gone on a fruitless errand.” He went and did according to the instructions of the ogress. In taking away the mirror the earth shook under him, but he made his heart as hard as an anvil and cared nothing for the shaking. But when he brought the mirror to his sister and she had placed it before the rose of Arab Zandyk, still the rose sang not.
When he visited the King, he excused his absence, saying, “I was led on a journey with my father, but here am I, returned once more.” The King led him by the hand into the garden, and the wife of the King again perceiving him she sent for the midwife and demanded of her, “Why do you mock me again, old woman?” Quoth she, “Have patience with me for three days, O Queen; this time will be the beginning and the end.” Then she rode on her pitcher to the island, and asked the young girl, “Has thy brother brought thee the mirror?” “Yes, but still the rose sings not.” “Ah, it only sings with its mistress, who is called Arab Zandyk,” and so saying she departed. Muhammed the Discreet on his return home again found his sister disconsolate, and in answer to his inquiries, she said, “I desire Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose and of the mirror, that I may amuse myself with her when you are absent.”
He at once mounted his horse and rode on till he came to the house of the ogress. “How fares it with you, mother ogress?” “What do you want now, Muhammed the Discreet?” “I wish Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose and of the mirror.” Quoth the ogress, “Many kings and pashas have not been able to bring her: she hath changed them all into stone; and thou art small and poor—what will become of thee?” “Only, my dear mother ogress show me the way, and I shall bring her, with the permission of God.” Said the ogress, “Go to the west side of the palace; there you will find an open window. Bring your horse under the window and then cry in a loud voice, ‘Descend, Arab Zandyk!’” Muhammed the Wary went accordingly, halted beneath the window, and cried out, “Descend, Arab Zandyk!” She looked from her window scornfully and said,” Go away, young man.” Muhammed the Discreet raised his eyes and found that half of his horse was changed into stone. A second time cried he in a loud voice, “Descend, Arab Zandyk!” She insulted him and said, “I tell you, go away, young man.’ He looked again and found his horse entirely enchanted and half of himself as well. A third time he cried in a loud voice, “I tell you, descend, Arab Zandyk!” She inclined herself half out
Arab Zandyk then took him by the hand and led him into her castle. She gave her servants orders to build a palace in the midst of the isle of the fisherman, which being accomplished, she took Muhammed the Discreet and her soldiers and proceeded thither and then she said to him, “Go to the King, and when he asks you where you have been reply, ’I have been preparing my nuptials and invite you, with your army.’” He went to the King and spoke as Arab Zandyk had instructed him, upon which the King laughed and said to his vazir, “This young man is the son of a fisherman and comes to invite me with my army!” Quoth the vazir, “On account of your love for him, command that the soldiers take with them food for eight days, and we also will take our provender for eight days.” The King having issued orders to that effect, and all being ready, they all set out and arriving at the house of the fisherman’s son, they found a large number of beautiful tents erected for the soldiers’ accommodation and the King was astonished. Then came the feasting—one dainty dish being quickly followed by another still more delicious and the soldiers said among themselves, “We should like to remain here for two years to eat meat and not be obliged to eat only beans and lentils.” They continued there forty days until the nuptials were completed, well content with their fare. Then the King departed with his army. The King sent a return invitation, and Arab Zandyk commanded her soldiers to set out in order to precede her to the capital. When the soldiers arrived they filled the town so that there was scarcely sufficient house-room for them. Then Arab Zandyk set out accompanied by Muhammed and his sister. They entered the royal palace, and as they ascended the staircase, Arab Zandyk perceived the mother of Muhammed covered with tar and in chains, so she threw over her a cashmere shawl and covered her. The servants who were standing about said to Arab Zandyk, “Why do you cover her with a shawl? Spit upon her when you go up and also when you come down.” She asked, “Why so?” Said they, “Because she gave birth to two dogs.” Then they went to the King and said, “A lady amongst the strangers has thrown a cashmere shawl over her who is fastened
The variations between this and Galland’s story are very considerable, it must be allowed, and though the fundamental outline is the same in both, they should be regarded as distinct versions of the same tale, and both are represented by Asiatic and European stories. Here the fairy Arab Zandyk plays the part of the Speaking-Bird, which, however, has its equivalent in the preceding tale (No. x.) of Spitta Bey’s collection:
A man dies, leaving three sons and one daughter. The sons build a palace for their sister and mother. The girl falls in love with some one who is not considered as an eligible parti by the brothers. By the advice of an old woman, the girl asks her brothers to get her the singing nightingale, in hope that the bird would throw sand on them and thus send them down to the seventh earth. The eldest before setting out on this quest leaves his chaplet with his younger brother, saying that if it shrank it would be a token that he was dead. Journeying through the desert some one tells him that many persons have been lost
Through the Moors, perhaps, the story found its way among the wandering tribes (the Kabail) of Northern Africa, who have curiously distorted its chief features, though not beyond recognition, as will be seen from the following abstract of their version, from M. Riviere’s collection of “Comes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura” (Paris, 1882):
KABA’IL version.
A man has two wives, one of whom is childless, the other bears in succession seven sons and a daughter. The childless wife cuts off the little finger of each and takes them one by one into the forest, where they are brought up. An old woman comes one day and tells the daughter that if her brothers love her they will give her a bat. The girl cries to her brothers for a bat, and one of them consults an aged man, who sends him to the sea shore. He puts down his gun under a tree, and a bat from above cries out, “What wild beast is this ?” The youth replies, “You just go to sleep, old fellow.” The bat comes down, touches the gun and it becomes a piece of wood; touches the youth and he becomes microscopic. This in turn happens to all the brothers, after which the girl goes to the sea-shore, and when she is under the tree the bat calls out, “What wild beast is this?” But she does not answer she waits till the bat is asleep, then climbs the tree, and catching the “bird” (sic), asks it where her brothers are, and on her promising to clothe the bat in silver and gold, the creature touches the guns and the brothers,
Sir Richard has given (p. 313, note) some particulars of the version in Hahn’s collection of modern Greek tales, which generally corresponds with Galland’s story. There is a different version in M. Legrand’s “Recueil de Contes Populaires Grecs” (Paris, 1881), which combines incidents in the modern Arabic story of Arab Zandyk with some of those in Galland and some which it has exclusively:
Modern Greek version.
Three daughters of an old woman disobey the order of the King, not to use a light at night because of the scarcity of oil, and work on as usual. The King in going round the town to see if his order is obeyed comes to their house, and overhears the eldest girl express a wish that she were married to the royal baker, so that she should have plenty of bread. The second wishes the King’s cook for her husband, to have royal meals galore. The youngest wishes to have the King himself, saying she would bear him as children, “Sun,” “Moon,” and “Star.” Next day the King sends for them and marries each as she had wished. When the youngest brings forth the three children, in successive years, her mother-in-law, on the advice of a “wise woman,” (? the midwife) substitutes a dog, a cat and a serpent, and causes the infants to be put in a box and sent down the river, and the queen is disgraced.
An old monk, in the habit of going down to the river and taking one fish daily, one day gets two fishes, and asks God the reason. In reply he is told that he will henceforth have two mouths to feed. Presently, he finds the box with the infant “Sun” in it and takes him home. Next year he gets one day three fishes, and finds the infant “Moon”, and the third year he has four fishes one day and finds the baby-girl, “Star.” When the children have grown up the monk sends them to town in order that they should learn the ways of the world. The eldest hearing a Jew offering a box for sale, saying, “Whoever buys this box will be sorry for it, and he who does not buy it will be equally sorry,” purchases it and on taking it home finds his sister weeping for the golden apple which the “wise woman” (who had found them out) told her she must get. He opens the Jew’s
In Albania, as might be expected, our story is orally current in a form which resembles both the Greek version, as above, and the tale of Arab Zandyk, more especially the latter; and it may have been derived from the Turks, though I am not aware that the story has been found in Turkish. This is an abstract of the second of M. Dozon’s “Comes Albanais” (Paris, 1881), a most entertaining collection:
Albanianversion.
There was a King who had three daughters. When he died, his successor proclaimed by the crier an order prohibiting the use of lights during the night of his accession. Having made this announcement, the King disguised himself and went forth alone. After walking about from place to place he came to the abode of the daughters of the late King, and going up close to it he overheard their conversation. This is what the eldest was saying, “If the King took me for his wife, I would make him a carpet upon which the whole of his army could be seated and there would still be room to spare.” Then said the second, “If the King would take me for his wife, I would make him a tent under which the whole army could be sheltered, and room would still remain.” Lastly, the youngest said, “If the King should espouse me, I would bring him a son and a daughter with a star on their foreheads and a moon on their shoulders.”
The King, who had not lost a word of this conversation, sent for the sisters on the morrow and married all three.[FN#432] The eldest, as she had declared, made a carpet on which the whole army was seated, and yet there was room to spare. The second, in her turn, made a tent under which all the army found shelter. As to the youngest, after a time, she grew great, and her confinement approached. The day she was delivered the King was absent, and on his return he inquired what she had given birth to. The two elder sisters replied, “A little cat and a little mouse.” On hearing this the King ordered the mother to be placed upon the staircase, and commanded every one who entered to spit upon her.
Now she had given birth to a boy and a girl, but her two sisters, after having shut them up in a box, sent them away by a servant to be exposed on the bank of the river, and a violent wind afterwards arising, the box was drifted to the other side. There was a mill on that side, where dwelt an old man and his wife. The old man having found the box brought it home. They opened it, and discovered the boy and girl, with a star on their foreheads and a moon on their shoulders. Astonished thereat, they took them out and brought the children up as well as they could.
Time passed away; the old woman died, and soon after came the turn of the old man. Before dying he called the youth to him and said, “Know, my son, that in such a place is a cave where there is a bridle which belongs to me. That bridle is thine, but avoid opening the cave before forty days have elapsed, if you wish the bridle to do whatever you command.” The forty days having expired, the young man went to the cave, and on opening it found the bridle. He took it in his hand and said to it, “I want two horses,” and in a moment two horses appeared. The brother and sister mounted them, and in the twinkling of an eye they arrived in their father’s country. There the young man opened a cafe, and his sister remained secluded at home.
As the cafe was the best in the country, the King came to hear of it, and when he entered it he saw the youth, who had a star on his forehead. He thought him so beautiful [and lingered so long] that he returned late to the palace, when he was asked why he had tarried so late. He replied, that a young lad had opened a cafe, and was so beautiful that he had never seen his equal; and, what was most extraordinary, there was a star on his brow. The sisters no sooner heard these words of the King than they understood that he referred to their younger sister’s son. Full of rage and spite, they quickly devised a plan of causing his death. What did they do? They sent to his sister an old woman, who said to her, “Thy brother, O my daughter, can hardly love thee, for he is all day at the cafe and has a good time of it, while he leaves thee here alone. If he truly loves thee, tell him to bring thee a flower from the Belle of the Earth, so that
As he journeyed, a lamia presented herself before him, and said, “I have a great desire to eat thee, but thou also excitest pity, and so I leave thee thy life.” The young man then inquired of her how he could find the Belle of the Earth. “I know nothing about it, my son,” replied the lamia; “but go ask my second sister.” So he rode off and came to her, and she drew near, intending to devour him, but seeing him so beautiful, she asked where he was going. He told his story and said, “Do you know the way to the Belle of the Earth’” But she in her turn sent him to her elder sister, who on seeing him rushed out to eat him, but like the others, was touched by his comeliness and spared him; and when he inquired after the Belle of the Earth, “Take this handkerchief,” said she, “and when thou arrivest at her abode, use it to open the door. Inside thou wilt see a lion and a lamb; throw brains to the lion and grass to the lamb.” So he went forward and did all the lamia advised. He tried the door and it opened; threw brains to the lion and grass to the lamb, and they allowed him to pass. He went in and pulled a flower, and he had no sooner done so than he found himself at his own door.
Great was his sister’s joy as she began playing with the flower. But on the morrow the two sisters sent the old woman to her again. “Has he brought thee the flower?” she asked. “Yes, he has.” Thou art content,” said the old hag; “but if thou hadst the handkerchief of the Belle of the Earth, it would be quite another thing.” When her brother came home he found her in tears, and in reply to his inquiries, “What pleasure,” said she—“what pleasure can this flower give me? So long as I have not the handkerchief of the Belle of the Earth I shall not be happy.” Then he, desirous that his sister should have no cause for grief, mounted his horse, and in the same manner as he had obtained the flower, possessed himself of the handkerchief and brought it home to his sister.
On the morrow, when the young man had gone to his cafe, the old witch again visited his sister, who informed her that her brother had brought her the handkerchief. “How happy,” said the sorceress—“how happy thou art in having a brother who brings thee whatever thou desirest! But if thou cost wish to spend thy life like a pasha’s wife, thou must also obtain the owner of that handkerchief.”
To please his sister, the young man once more sets out, and coming to the eldest of the lamiae and telling her his errand, “O my son,” said she, “thou canst go there, but as to carrying away the mistress of the handkerchief, that is not so easy. However, try in some way to obtain possession of her ring, for therein lies all her power.” So he continues his journey, and after passing the lion and the lamb he comes to the chamber of the Belle of the Earth. He finds her asleep, and approaching her noiselessly draws the ring from her finger, upon which she awakes and discovering that she had not her ring, there was no alternative but to submit to his will. They set out together and in the twinkling of an eye arrived at the young man’s house. On perceiving them the sister was overcome with joy.
It happened next day that the King again went to the cafe, and on his return home ordered supper to be prepared, saying that he had invited the young man and all his friends. The sisters instructed the cooks to put poison in the food, which they did accordingly. At nightfall the young man arrived, accompanied by the Belle of the Earth, whom he had married, and his sister. But none of them, notwithstanding the entreaties of the King, would touch any food, for the Belle of the Earth had revealed to them that the meats were poisoned: they merely ate a few mouthfuls out of the King’s mess.
Supper over, the King invited each one to tell a story, and when it came to the young man’s turn, he recounted the whole story of his adventures. Then the King recognised in him the son of his fairest wife, whom, deceived by the lies of her sisters, he had exposed on the staircase. So he instantly ordered the two sisters to be seized and cut to pieces, and he took back his wife. As for the young man, he became his heir. He grew old and prospered.
The points of difference between, and the relative merits of, Galland’s story and Straparola’s
Italianversion,
and whence both were probably obtained, will be considered later on, as several other versions or variants remain to be noticed or cited, before attempting a comparative analysis, not the least interesting of which is a
Bretonversion.
In “Melusine,” for 1878, colt 206 ff., M. Luzel gives a Breton version, under the title of “Les Trois Filles du Boulanger; ou, L’Eau qui dense, la Pomme qui chante, et l’Oiseau de Verite,” which does not appear to have been derived from Galland’s story, although it corresponds with it closely in the first part. A prince overhears the conversation of three daughters of an old baker, who is a widower. The eldest says that she loves the king’s gardener, the second, that she loves the king’s valet, and the youngest says the prince is her love, to whom she would bear two boys, each with a star of gold on his brow, and a girl, with a star of silver. The father chides them for talking
One day, when the king was out hunting, an old woman came into the kitchen of the palace, where the sister happened to be, and exclaimed, “O how cold I am,” and she trembled and her teeth chattered. “Come near the fire, my good mother,” said the little girl. “Blessings on you, my child! How beautiful you are! If you had but the Water that dances, the Apple that sings, and the Bird of Truth, you’d not have your equal on the earth.” “Yes, but how to obtain these wonders?” “You have two brothers who can procure them for you,” and so saying, the old woman went away. When she told her brothers what the old woman had said, the eldest before setting out in quest of the three treasures leaves a poignard which as long as it can be drawn out of its sheath would betoken his welfare. One day it can’t be drawn out, so the second brother goes off, leaving with his sister a rosary, as in Galland. When she finds the beads won’t run on the string, she goes herself, on horseback, as a cavalier. She comes to a large plain, and in a hollow tree sees a little old man with a beard of great length, which
It would indeed be surprising did we not find our story popularly known throughout Germany in various forms. Under the title of “The Three Little Birds” a version is given in Grimm’s K. u. H. M. (No. 96, vol. i. of Mrs. Hunt’s English translation), which reproduces the chief particulars of Galland’s tale with at least one characteristic German addition;
Germanversion.
A king, who dwelt on the Keuterberg, was out hunting one day, when he was seen by three young girls who were watching their cows on the mountain, and the eldest, pointing to him, calls out to the two others, “If I do not get that one, I’ll have none;” the second, from another part of the hill, pointing to the one who was on the king’s right hand, cries “If I don’t get that one, I’ll have none;” and the youngest, pointing to the one who was on the king’s left hand, shouts, “And if I don’t get him, I’ll have none.” When the king has returned home he sends for the three girls, and after questioning them as to what they had said to each other about himself and his two ministers, he takes the eldest girl for his own wife and marries the two others to the ministers. The king was very fond of his wife, for she was fair and beautiful of face, and when he had to go abroad for a season he left her in charge of the two sisters who were the wives of his ministers, as she was about to become a mother. Now the two sisters had no children, and when the queen gave birth to a boy who “brought a red star into the world with him,” they threw him into the river, whereupon a little bird flew up into the air, singing:
“To
thy death art thou sped,
Until
God’s word be said.
In
the white lily bloom,
Brave
boy, is thy tomb.”
When the king came home they told him his queen had been delivered of a dog, and he said, “What God does is well done.” The same thing happens the two following years: when the queen had another little boy, the sisters substituted a dog and the king said “What God does is well done;” but when she was delivered of a beautiful little girl, and they told the king she had this time borne a cat, he grew angry and ordered the poor queen to be thrown into prison. On each occasion a fisherman who dwelt near the river drew the child from the water soon after it was thrown in, and having no children, his wife lovingly reared them. When they had grown up, the eldest once went with some other boys to fish, and they would not have him with them, saying to him, “Go away, foundling.” The boy, much grieved, goes to the fisherman and asks whether he is a foundling, and the old man tells him the whole story, upon which the youth, spite of the fisherman’s entreaties, at once sets off to seek his father. After walking for many days he came to a great river, by the side of which was an old woman fishing. He accosted her very respectfully, and she took him on her back and carried him across the water. When a year had gone by, the second boy set out in search of his brother, and the same happened to him as to the elder one. Then the girl went to look for her two brothers, and coming to the water she said to the old woman, “Good day, mother. May God help you with your fishing.” (The brothers had said to her that she would seek long enough before she caught any fish, and she replied, “And thou wilt seek long enough before thou findest thy father”—hence their failure in their quest.)
When the old woman heard that, she became quite friendly, and carried her over the water, gave her a wand, and said to her, “Go, my daughter, ever onwards by this road and when you come to a great black dog, you must pass it silently and boldly, without either laughing or looking at it. Then you will come to a great high castle, on the threshold of which you must let the wand fall, and go straight through the castle and out again on the other side. There you will see an old fountain out of which a large tree has grown whereon hangs a bird in a cage, which you must take down. Take likewise a glass of water out of the fountain, and with these two things go back by the same way. Pick up the wand again from the threshold and take it with you, and when you again pass by the dog strike him in the face with it, but be sure that you hit him, and then just come back here to me.” The maiden found everything exactly as the old woman had said, and on her way hack she found her two brothers who had sought each other over half the world. They went together where the black dog was lying on the road; she struck it in the face and it turned into a handsome prince, who went with them to the river. There the old woman was still standing. She rejoiced much to see them again, and carried them all over the
“The mother sits alone
There in the prison small;
O King of the royal blood,
These are thy children all.
The sisters twain, so false,
They wrought the children woe,
There in the waters deep,
Where the fishers come and go.”
Then the king took the fisherman, the three little children, and the bird back with him to the castle, and ordered his wife to be taken out of prison and brought before him. She had become very ill and weak, but her daughter gave her some of the water of the fountain to drink and she became strong and healthy. But the two false sisters were burnt, and the maiden was married to the Prince.
Even in Iceland, as already stated, the same tale has long cheered the hardy peasant’s fire-side circle, while the “wind without did roar and rustle.” That it should have reached that out-of-the-way country through Galland’s version is surely inconceivable, notwithstanding the general resemblance which it bears to the “Histoire des Soeurs jalouses de leur Cadette.” It is found in Powell and Magnusson’s “Legends of Iceland,” second series, and as that excellent work is not often met with (and why so, I cannot understand), moreover, as the story is told with much naivete, I give it here in full:
Icelandicversion.
Not very far from a town where dwelt the king lived once upon a time a farmer. He was well to do and had three daughters; the eldest was twenty years of age, the two others younger, but both marriageable. Once, when they were walking outside their father’s farm, they saw the king coming riding on horseback with two followers, his secretary and his bootmaker. The king was unmarried, as were also those two men. When they saw him, the eldest of the sisters said, “I do not wish anything higher than to be the wife of the king’s shoemaker.” Said the second, “And I of the king’s secretary.” Then the youngest said? “I wish that I were the wife of the king himself.” Now the king heard that they were talking together, and said to his followers, “I will go to the girls yonder and know what it is they were talking about. It seemed to me that I heard one of them say, ‘The king himself."’ His followers said that what
So the three sisters were married, each to the husband she had chosen. But when the youngest sister had become queen, the others began to cast on her looks of envy and hatred, and would have her, at any cost, dragged down from her lofty position. And they laid a plot for the accomplishment of this their will. When the queen was going to be confined for the first time, her sisters got leave to act as her midwives. But as soon as the child was born they hid it away, and ordered it to be thrown into a slough into which all the filth was cast. But the man to whom they had entrusted this task could not bring himself to do it, so put the child on the bank of the slough, thinking that some one might find it and save its life. And so it fell out; for an old man chanced to pass the slough soon afterwards and finding a crying child on the bank, thought it a strange find, took it up and brought it to his home, cherishing it as he could. The queen’s sisters took a whelp and showed it to the king as his queen’s offspring. The king was grieved at this tale, but, being as fond of the queen as of his own life, he restrained his anger and punished her not.
At the second and third confinement of the queen her sisters played the same trick: they exposed the queen’s children in order to have them drowned in the slough. The man however, always left them on the bank, and it so happened that the same old earl always passed by and took up the children, and carried them home, and brought them up as best he could. The queen’s sisters said that the second time the queen was confined she had given birth to a kitten, and the third time, to a log of wood. At this the king waxed furiously wroth, and ordered the queen to be thrown into the house where he kept a lion as he did not wish this monster to fill his kingdom with deformities. And the sisters thought that they had managed their boat well and were proud of their success. The lion, however, did not devour the queen, but even gave her part of his food and was friendly towards her and thus the queen lived with the lion, a wretched enough life without anybody’s knowing anything about it.
Now the story turns to the old man who fostered the king’s children. The eldest of these, a boy, he called Vilhjamr, the second, also a boy, Sigurdr; the third child was a girl and her name was unknown. All that came to him, or with whom he met, the old man would ask if they knew nothing of the children he had found on the bank of the slough. But no one seemed to have the faintest notion about their birth or descent. As the children grew up they were hopeful and fine-looking. The earl had now waxed very old, and, expecting his end, he gave the children this rede, always to ask every one to whom they spoke for news of their family and birth, in order that they might perchance be able at last to trace out the truth. He himself told them all he knew about the matter. After this the old man died, and the children followed closely his advice. Once there came to them an old man, of whom they asked the same questions as of all others. He said he could not give them any hints on the matter himself, but that he could point out one to them who was able to do so. He told them that a short way from their farm was a large stone, whereupon was always sitting a bird which could both understand and speak the tongue of men. It would be best for them, he went on, to find this bird; but there was a difficulty in the matter to be got over first, for many had gone there but none had ever returned. He said that many king’s children had gone to this bird in order to know their future fate, but they had all come short in the very thing needed. He told them that whosoever wanted to mount the stone must be so steady as never to look back, whatever he might hear or see, or whatever wonders seemed to take place around the rock. All who did not succeed in this were changed into stones, together with everything they had with them. This steadiness no one had had yet, but whosoever had it could easily mount the rock, and having once done so would be able to quicken all the others who have been turned to stone there. For the top of the rock was flat, and there was a trap-door on it, wherein the bird was sitting. Underneath the trap-door was water, the nature of which was that it would turn all the stones back to life again. The old man ended by saying, “Now he who succeeds in getting to the top is allowed by the bird to take the water and sprinkle the stone-changed folk, and call them to life again, just as they were before.” This the king’s children thought no hard task. The brothers, however, were the most outspoken about the easiness of the thing. They thanked the old man much for his story and took leave of him.
Not long after this, Vilhjamr, the eldest brother, went to the rock. But before he left he said to his brother, that if three drops of blood should fall on his knife at table while he was away, Sigurdr should at once come to the rock, for then it would be sure that he fared like the others. So Vilhjamr went away, following the old man’s directions, and nothing further is told of him for a while. But after three days, or about the time when his brother should have reached the stone, three drops of blood fell upon Sigurdr’s knife, once, while at table. He was startled at this and told his sister that he must needs leave her, in order to help his brother. He made the same agreement with his sister as Vilhjamr had before made with him. Then he went away, and, to make the story short, all came to the same issue with him as with his brother, and the blood-drops fell on his sister’s knife, at the time when Sigurdr should have reached the stone.
Then the damsel went herself, to see what luck she might have. She succeeded in finding the rock, and when she came there she was greatly struck with the number of stones that surrounded it, in every shape and position. Some had the form of chests, others of various animals, while some again were in other forms. She paid no heed to all this, but going straight forward to the great rock began climbing it. Then she heard, all of a sudden, behind her a loud murmur of human voices, all talking, one louder than another, and amongst the number she heard those of her brothers. But she paid no heed to this, and took good care never to look back, in spite of all she heard going on behind her. Then she got at last to the top of the rock, and the bird greatly praised her steadiness and constancy and promised both to tell her anything she chose to ask him and to assist her in every way he could. First, she would have the surrounding stones recalled to their natural shapes and life. This the bird granted her, pointing to one of the stones and saying, “Methinks you would free that one from his spell, if you knew who he was.” So the king’s daughter sprinkled water over all the stones and they returned to life again, and thanked her for their release with many fair words. Next she asked the bird who were the parents of herself and her brothers, and to whom they might trace their descent. The bird said that they were the children of the king of that country, and told her how the queen’s sisters had acted by them at their birth, and last of all told her how her mother was in the lion’s den, and how she was nearer dead than alive from sorrow and want of good food and comfort.
The stone which the bird had pointed out to the princess was a king’s son, as noble as he was handsome. He cast affectionate looks to his life-giver and it was plain that each loved the other. It was he who had brought the greater part of the chest-shaped stones thither, the which were coffers full of gold and jewels. When the bird had told to every one that which each wanted to know, all the company of the disenchanted scattered, the three children and the wealthy prince going together. When they came home the first thing they did was to break into the lion’s den. They found their mother lying in a swoon, for she had lost her senses on hearing the house broken into. They took her away, and she soon afterwards recovered. Then they dressed her in fitting attire, and taking her to the palace asked audience of the king. This granted, Vilhjamr, Sigurdr, and their sister declared to the king that they were his children and that they had brought with them their mother from the lion’s den. The king was amazed at this story and at all that had happened. The sisters of the queen were sent for and questioned, and, having got into scrapes by differing in accounts, confessed at last their misdeed and told the truth. They were thrown before the same lion that the queen had been given to, and it tore them to pieces immediately and ate them up, hair and all.
Now the queen took her former rank, and a banquet was held in joy at this happy turn of affairs, and for many days the palace resounded with the glee of the feast. And at the end of it the foreign prince wooed the king’s daughter and gained easily her hand, and thus the banquet was begun afresh and became the young people’s marriage-feast. Such glee has never been witnessed in any other kingdom. After the feast the strange prince returned to his home with his bride and became king after his father. Vilhjamr also married and took the kingdom after his father. Sigurdr married a king’s daughter abroad, and became king after the death of his father-in-law; and all of them lived in luck and prosperity. And now is the story ended.
From bleak Iceland to sunny India is certainly a “far cry,” but we had already got half-way thither in citing the Egypto-Arabian versions, and then turned westwards and northwards. We must now, however, go all the way to Bengal for our next form of the story, which is much simpler in construction than any of the foregoing versions, and may be considered as a transition stage of the tale in its migration to Europe. This is an abridgment of the story—not of Envious Sisters but of jealous co-wives—from the Rev. Lal Bahari Day’s “Folk-Tales of Bengal,’’[FN#434] a work of no small value to students of the genealogy of popular fictions:
Bengaliversion.
A certain King had six wives, none of whom had children, in spite of doctors and all sorts of doctors’ stuff. He was advised by his ministers to take a seventh wife. There was in the city a poor woman who earned her livelihood by gathering cow-dung from the fields kneading it into cakes, which, after drying in the sun, she sold for fuel. She had a very beautiful daughter, who had contracted friendship with three girls much above her rank namely, the daughter of the King’s minister, the daughter of a rich merchant, and the daughter of the King’s chaplain. It happened one day that all four were bathing together in a tank near the palace, and the King overheard them conversing as follows: Said the minister’s daughter, “The man who marries me won’t need to buy me any clothes, for the cloth I once put on never gets soiled, never gets old, and never tears.” The merchant’s daughter said, “And my husband will also be a happy man, for the fuel which I use in cooking never turns to ashes, but serves from day to day, and from year to year.” Quoth the chaplain’s daughter, “My husband too will be a happy man, for when once I cook rice it never gets finished; no matter how much we may eat, the original quantity always remains in the pot."[FN#434] Then said the poor woman’s daughter, “And the man who marries me will also be happy, for I shall give birth to twin children, a son and a daughter; the girl will be divinely beautiful, and the boy will have a moon on his forehead and stars on the palms of his hands.”
The King didn’t care to have any of the three young ladies, but resolved at once to marry the fourth girl, who would present him with such extraordinary twin children, notwithstanding her humble birth, and their nuptials were celebrated in due form, much to the chagrin of his six wives. Some time after the King had occasion to go for six months to another part of his dominions, and when about to set out he told his new wife that he expected her to be confined before the period of his absence was expired, and that he would like to be present with her at the time, lest her enemies (her co-wives) might do her some injury. So giving her a golden bell he bade her hang it in her room, and when the pains of labour came on to ring it, and he would be with her in a moment, no matter where he might be at the time; but she must only ring it when her labour pains began. The six other wives had overheard all this, and the day after the King had departed went to the new wife’s room and affected to admire the golden bell, and asked her where she got it and what was its use. The unsuspecting creature told them its purpose, upon which they all exclaimed that it was impossible the King could hear it ring at the distance of hundreds of miles, and besides, how could the King travel such a distance in the twinkling of an eye? They urged her to ring the bell and convince herself that what the King had said to her was all nonsense. So she rang the bell, and the King instantly appeared,
The midwife placed the vessel containing the twins along with the unburnt clay vessels which a potter had set in order and then gone to sleep, intending to get up during the night and light his furnace; in this way she thought the little innocents would be reduced to ashes. It happened, however, that the potter and his wife overslept themselves that night, and it was near daybreak when the woman awoke and roused her husband. She then hastened to the furnace, and to her surprise found all the pots thoroughly baked, although no fire had been applied to them. Wondering at such good luck, she summoned her husband, who was equally astonished and pleased, and attributed it all to some benevolent deity. In turning over the pots he came upon the one in which the twins were placed, and the wife looking on them as a gift from heaven (for she had no children) carried them into
The youth presently bought a horse and went hunting in the neighbouring jungles. It happened one day, while following the chase, that the King met him, and, struck with his beauty, felt an unaccountable yearning for him.[FN#436] As a deer went past the youth shot an arrow and in so doing his turban fell off, on which a bright light, like that of the moon, was seen shining on his forehead. When the King perceived this, it brought to his mind the son with the moon on his forehead and stars on the palms of his hands who was to have been born of his seventh queen, and would have spoken with the youth, but he immediately galloped off. When the King reached home his six wives observing his sadness asked him its cause, and he told them of the youth he had seen in the forest with a moon on his forehead. They began to wonder if the twins were not still alive, and sending for the midwife closely questioned her as to the fate of the children. She stoutly declared that she had herself seen them burnt to ashes, but she would find out who the youth was whom the King had met while hunting. She soon ascertained that two strangers were living in a house in the bazar which the shopkeepers had built for them, and when she entered the house the girl was alone, her brother having gone into the jungle to hunt. Pretending to be her aunt, the old woman said to her, “My dear child, you are so beautiful, you require only the kataki[FN#437] flower to properly set off your charms. You should tell your brother to plant a row of that flower in your courtyard.” “I never saw that flower,” said the girl “Of course not; how could you? It does not grow in this country, but on the other side of the ocean. Your brother may try and get it for you, if you ask him.” This suggestion the old trot made in the hope that the lad would lose his life in venturing to obtain the flower. When he returned and his sister told him of the visit of their aunt and asked him to get her the kataki flower, on which she had set her heart, he at once consented, albeit he thought the woman had imposed upon his sister by calling herself their aunt.
Next morning he rode off on his fleet horse, and arriving on the borders of an immense forest he saw a number of rakshasi[FN#438] roaming about, he went aside and shot with his arrows some deer and rhinoceroses and then approaching the rakshasis called out, “O auntie dear, your nephew is here.” A huge rakshasi strode towards him and said, “O. you are the youth with the moon on your forehead and stars on the palms of your hands. We were all expecting you, but as you have called me aunt, I will not eat you. What is it you want? Have you brought anything for me to eat?” The youth gave her the game he had killed, and she began devouring it. After swallowing all the carcases she said, “Well, what do you want?” He answered, “I want some kataki flowers for my sister.” She told him it would be very difficult for him to get them, as they were guarded by seven hundred rakshasas, but if he was determined to attempt it, he had better first go to his uncle on the north side of the Jungle. He goes, and greets the rakshasa, calling him uncle, and having regaled him with deer and rhinoceroses as he had done his “aunt,” the rakshasa tells him that in order to obtain the flower he must go through an impenetrable forest of kachiri,[FN#439] and say to it “O mother kachiri, make way for me, else I perish,” upon which a passage will be opened for him. Next he will come to the ocean, which he must petition in the same terms, and it would make a way for him. After crossing the ocean he’ll come to the gardens where the kataki blooms. The forest opens a passage for the youth, and the ocean stands up like two walls on either side of him, so that he passes over dryshod.[FN#440] He enters the gardens and finds himself in a grand palace which appeared unoccupied. In one of the apartments he sees a young damsel of more than earthly beauty asleep on a golden bed, and going near discovers a stick of gold lying near her head and a stick of silver near her feet. Taking them in his hand, by accident the gold stick fell upon the feet of the sleeping beauty, when she instantly awoke, and told him she knew that he was the youth with the moon on his forehead and stars on the palms of his hands; that the seven hundred rakshasas who guarded the kataki flowers were then out hunting, but would return by sundown, and should they find him they’d eat him. A rakshasi had brought her from her father’s palace, and is so fond of her that she will not allow her to return home. By means of the gold and silver sticks the rakshasi kills her when she goes off in the morning, and by means of them also she is revived when she comes back in the evening. He had better flee and save his life. But the youth told her he would not go away without the kataki flower, moreover, that he would take her also with him. They spent the day in walking about the gardens, and when it was drawing near the time for the return of the rakshasas, the youth concealed himself under a great heap of the kataki flower which was in one of the rooms, having
In two other Hindu versions known to me—but the story is doubtless as widely spread over India as we have seen it to be over Europe—only the leading idea of Galland’s tale reappears, though one of them suggests the romance of “Helyas, the Knight of the Swan,” namely, the story called “Truth’s Triumph,” in Miss Frere’s “Old Deccan Days,” p. 55 ff. Here a raja and his minister walking together come to a large garden, where is a bringal- tree bearing 100 fruits but having no leaves, and the minister says to the raja that whosoever should marry the gardener’s daughter should have by her 100 boys and one girl. The raja espoused the maiden, much to the vexation of the 12 wives he had already, and then follows a
The other story referred to is No. xx of Miss Stokes’ “Indian Fairy Tales,” which Mr. Coote could not have read, else he would not have been at the trouble to maintain it was impossible that Galland derived his tale from it: “so long,” says he, “as that story remained in the country of its birth— India—it was absolutely inaccessible to him, for great traveller as he was, he never visited that far-off portion of the East.” The fact is, this Hindu story only resembles Galland’s, and that remotely, in the opening portion Seven daughters of a poor man played daily under the shady trees in the king’s garden with the gardener’s daughter, and she used to say to them, “When I am married I shall have a son—such a beautiful boy as he will be has never been seen. He will have a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin,” and they all laughed at her. The king, having overheard what she so often repeated, married her, though he had already four wives. Then follows the golden bell affair again, with a kettledrum substituted. When the young queen is about to be confined her co-wives tell her it is the custom to bind the eyes of women in her condition, to which she submits, and after she has borne the wonderful boy she promised to do, they tell her she has been delivered of a stone. The king degraded her to the condition of a kitchen servant and never spoke to her. The nurse takes the baby in a box and buries it in the jungle. But the king’s dog had followed her, and when she went off he took the box out of the earth and swallowed the baby. Six months after the dog brings him up, caresses him and swallows him again. He does likewise at the end of the year, and the dog’s keeper, having seen all told the four wives. They say to the king the dog had torn their clothes, and he replies, he’ll have the brute shot to-morrow. The dog overhears this and runs off to the king’s cow; he induces her to save the child by swallowing him, and the cow consents. Next day the dog is shot, and so on: the cow is to be killed and induces the king’s horse to swallow the child, and so on.—There may have been originally some mystical signification attached to this part of the tale, but it has certainly no connection with our story.[FN#443]
I had nearly omitted an Arabian version of the outcast infants which seems to have hitherto escaped notice by story-comparers. Moreover, it occurs in a text of The Nights, to wit, the Wortley-Montague Ms., Nights 472-483, in the story of Abou Neut and Abou Neeuteen = Abu Niyyet and Abu Niyyeteyn, according to Dr. Redhouse; one of those translated by Jonathan Scott in vol. vi. of his edition of the “Arabian Nights,” where, at p. 227, the hero marries the King’s youngest daughter and the King in dying leaves him heir to his throne, a bequest which is disputed by the husbands of the two elder daughters. The young queen is brought to bed of a son, and her sisters bribe the midwife to declare that she has given birth to a dog and throw the infant at the gate of one of the royal palaces. The same occurs when a second son is born. But at the third lying-in of the princess her husband takes care to be present, and the beautiful daughter she brings forth is saved from the clutches of her vindictive sisters. The two little princes are taken up by a gardener and reared as his own children. In course of time, it happened that the King (Abu Neeut) and his daughter visited the garden and saw the two little boys playing together and the young princess felt an instinctive affection for them, and the King, finding them engaged in martial play, making clay-horses, bows and arrows, &c., had the curiosity to inquire into their history. The dates when they were found agreed with those of the queen’s delivery; the midwife also confessed; and the King left the guilty parties to be punished by the pangs of their own consciences, being convinced that envy is the worst of torments. The two young princes were formally acknowledged and grew up to follow their father’s example.
We must go back to India once more if we would trace our tale to what is perhaps its primitive form, and that is probably of Buddhist invention; though it is quite possible this may be one of the numerous fiction which have been time out of mind the common heritage of nearly all peoples, and some of which the early Buddhists adapted to their own purposes. Be this as it may, in the following tale, from Dr. Mitra’s “Sanskrit Buddhist Literature of Nepal” (Calcutta: 1882), pp. 65, 66, we seem to have somewhat like the germ of the Envious Sisters:
Buddhistversion.
King Brahmadatta picked up in Kampilla a destitute girl named Padmavati, who scattered lotuses at every step she moved, and made her his favourite queen. She was very simple-minded. Other queens used to play tricks upon her, and at the time of her first delivery cheated her most shamefully. The wicked ladies said to her on that occasion, “Dear Padma, you are a rustic girl; you do not know how to give birth to a royal child. Let us help you.” She yielded. They covered her eyes, threw into the river the twin boys she had brought forth, and smeared her face with blood. They deceived her
I am of opinion that this Buddhist tale is the original form of the “Envious Sisters”— that it ended with the restoration of the children and the vindication of the innocence of their mother. The second part of our story has no necessary connection with the first, the elements of which it is composed being found in scores—nay, hundreds—of popular fictions in every country: the quest of wonderful or magical objects; one brother setting out, and by neglecting to follow the advice tendered him by some person he meets on his way, he comes to grief; a second brother follows, with the same result; and it is reserved for the youngest, and the least esteemed, to successfully accomplish the adventure. In the second part of the “Envious Sisters,” the girl, the youngest of the three children, plays the part of the usual hero of folk-tales of this class. There is, generally, a seemingly wretched old man—a hideous, misshapen dwarf—or an ugly, decrepit old woman—who is treated with rudeness by the two elder adventurers, so they do not speed in their enterprise; but the youngest addresses the person in respectful terms—shares his only loaf with him—and is rewarded by counsel which enables him to bring his adventure to a successful end. In the “Envious Sisters,” which I cannot but think Galland has garbled from his original, the eldest clips the beard of the hermit, and presumably the second does the same, since we are told he found the hermit in the like condition (albeit, his beard had been trimmed but a few days before). Each of them receives the same instructions. In a true folk-tale the two elder brothers would treat the old man with contempt and suffer accordingly, while the youngest would cut his nails and his beard, and make
In Straparoia’s version of the “Envious Sisters,” when the children’s hair is combed pearls and precious stones fall out of it, whereby their foster-parents become rich; this is only hinted at in Galland’s story: the boy’s hair “should be golden on one side and silvern on the other; when weeping he should drop pearls in place of tears, and when laughing his rosy lips should be fresh as the blossom new-blown,” not another word is afterwards said of this, while in the modern Arabic version the children are finally identified by their mother through such peculiarities. The silver chains with which the children are born in the romance of “Helyas, the Knight of the Swan,” correspond with the “gold star” etc. on the forehead in other stories. It only remains to observe that the Bird of our tale who in the end relates the history of the children to their father, is represented in the modern Arabic version by the fairy Arab Zandyk in the modern Greek by Tzitzinaena, and in the Albanian by the Belle of the Earth.
The Tale of Zayn Al-asnam,
The Dream of Riches. In Croker’s Irish Fairy Legends there is a droll version, of this story, entitled “Dreaming Tim Jarvis.” Honest Tim, we are told, “took to sleeping, and the sleep set him dreaming, and he dreamed all night, and night after night, about crock full of gold. . . . At last he dreamt that he found a mighty great crock of gold and silver, and where, do you think ? Every step of the way upon London Bridge itself! Twice Tim dreamt it, and three times Tim dreamt the same thing; and at last he made up his mind to transport himself, and go over to London, in Pat Mahoney’s coaster and so he did!” Tim walks on London Bridge day after day until he sees a man with great
In a note appended to this tale, Croker cites the following from Grimm’s “Deutsche Sagan,” vol. i. p. 290: A man once dreamed that if he went to Regensburg and walked on the bridge he should become rich. He went accordingly; and when he had spent near a fortnight walking backwards and forwards on the bridge, a rich merchant came up to him wondering what he was doing here every day, and asked him what he was looking for. He answered that he had dreamed if he would go to the bridge of Regensburg he should become rich. “Ha!” said the merchant, “what do you say about dreams?—Dreams are but froth (Trume sind Schaume). I too have dreamed that there is buried under yonder large tree (pointing to it) a great kettle full of money; but I gave no heed to this, for dreams are froth.” The man went immediately and dug under the tree, and there he got a treasure, which made a rich man of him, and so his dream was accomplished.—The same story is told of a baker’s boy at Lubeck, who dreamed that he should find a treasure on the bridge; there he met a beggar, who said he had dreamed there was one under a lime-tree in the churchyard of Mollen, but he would not take the trouble of going there. The baker’s boy went, and got the treasure.—It is curious to observe that all the European versions of the story have reference to a bridge, and it must have been brought westward in this form.
The Quest of the Image.—It has only now occurred to my mind that there is a very similar story in the romance of the Four Dervishes ("Kissa-i-Chehar-Darwesh"), a Persian work written in the 13th century, and rendered into Urdu about 80 years ago, under the title of “Bagh o Bahar” (Garden of Spring), of which an English translation was made by L. F. Smith, which was afterwards improved by Duncan Forbes. There the images are of monkeys—circumstance which seems to point to an Indian origin of the story—but the hero falls in love with the spotless girl, and the jinn-king takes possession of her, though he is ultimately compelled to give her up.—The fact of this story of the quest of the lacking image being found in the Persian language is another proof that the tales in The Nights were largely derived from Persian story-books.
Aladdin; Or, the Wonderful Lamp.
There is a distorted reflection of the story in M. Rene Basset’s recently published “Contes Populaires Berberes,” No. xxix., which is to this effect: A taleb proclaims, “Who will sell himself for 100 mitqals?” One offers, the Kadi ratifies the sale; the (now) slave gives the money to his mother, and follows the taleb. Away they go. The taleb repeats certain words, upon which the earth opens, and he sends down the slave for “the candlestick, the reed, and the box.” The slave hides the box in his pocket and says he did not find it. They go off, and after a time the slave discovers that his master has disappeared. He returns home, hires a house, opens the box, and finds a cloth of silk with seven folds; he undoes one of them, whereupon genii swarm about the room, and a girl appears who dances till break of day. This occurs every night. The king happens to be out on a nocturnal adventure, and hearing a noise, enters the house and is amused till morning. He sends for the box to be brought to the palace, gives the owner his daughter in marriage, and continues to divert himself with the box till his death, when his son-in-law succeeds him on the throne.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.
My obliging friend, Mr. W. F. Kirby, who contributed to the 10th volume of Sir Richard’s Nights proper the very able Bibliographical Essay, has drawn my attention to an analogue of this tale in Geldart’s Folk-Lore of Modern Greece: There were two brothers, one of whom was wealthy and had four children, who were in feeble health, the other was poor and had seven children, who were in robust health. The poor brother’s wife, begging relief was allowed to come twice a week to the house of the rich brother to bake bread. Her children were starving, but the rich people gave the mother nothing for several days, and all she could do was to wash the dough off her hands for the children, who thrived, and the rich man, discovering the cause, made his wife compel the poor woman to wash her hands before she left the house. The father found his children crying for food, and pretended to go to the wood for herbs, but really purposing to kill himself by falling from a crag. But seeing a great castle, he determined first to ascertain what it was, so he went near, and having climbed a tree, saw forty-nine dragons come out. When they were gone he entered, and found a treasure, filled his bag and hurried away. On his return home he found his wife weeping bitterly, but when he showed her the treasure, she said the first thing was to buy oil to light a lamp to our Lady. Next day they bought a house, and moved into it, but agreed only to buy what they needed for each day’s use and nothing they could do without. For two months they went often to church and helped the poor, till, one day, the wife of the rich man, who had met with losses lately, called for them and was hospitably received. She heard the story of the treasure,
There can be no doubt, I think, that this story owes nothing to Galland, but that it is a popular Greek version of the original Asiatic tale, of which Galland’s “Ali Baba” is probably a fair reflection. The device of pretending to the servant that the dragon he had thrown into the sea was returned has its exact analogue in the humorous fabliau of “Les Trois Bossus,” where a rustic is made to believe that each of the hunchbacks had come back again, with the addition that, on returning from the river the third time, he seizes the lady’s hunchbacked husband and effectually disposes of him.
The Tale of Prince Ahmad.
Though my paper on this tale is of considerable length, it would perhaps have been deemed intolerably long had I cited all the versions of the first part— the quest of the most wonderful thing—which are current in Europe, for it is found everywhere, though with few variations of importance. There are two, however, of which I may furnish the outlines in this place.
In the “Pentamerone” of Basile,[FN#444], a man sends his five sons into the world to learn something. The eldest becomes a master-thief; the second has learned the trade of shipwright; the third has become a skilful archer; the fourth has found an herb which brings the dead to life, and the youngest has learned the speech of birds. Soon after they have returned home, they set out with their father to liberate a princess who had been stolen by a wild man, and by the exercise of their several arts succeed in their adventure. While they quarrel as to which of them had by his efforts done most to deserve the princess for wife, the king gives her to the father, as the stock of all those branches.
In the 45th of Laura Gonzenbach’s “Sicilianische Mrchen,” the king’s daughter is stolen by a giant and recovered by the seven sons of a poor woman. The eldest can run like the wind, the second can hear, when he puts his ear to the ground, all that goes on in the world; the third can with a blow of his fist break through seven iron doors; the fourth is a thief; the fifth can build an iron tower with a blow of his fist; the sixth is an unfailing shot, the seventh has a guitar which can awaken the dead. Youths thus wonderfully endowed figure in many tales, but generally as the servants of the hero.
By comparing the different European versions it will be found that some are similar to the first part of the tale of Prince Ahmad, insomuch as the brothers become possessed of certain wonderful things which are each instrumental in saving the damsel’s life; while others more closely approach the oldest known form of the story, in representing the heroes as being endowed with some extraordinary kind of power, by means of which they rescue the damsel from a giant who had carried her off. It is curious to observe that in the “Sindibad Nama” version the damsel is both carried off by a demon and at death’s door, which is not the case of any other Asiatic form of the story.
Arabian Nights,
Volume 13
Footnotes
[FN#1] M. Zotenberg empowered me to offer his “Aladdin” to an “Oriental” publishing-house well-known in London, and the result was the “no-public” reply. The mortifying fact is that Oriental studies are now at their nadir in Great Britain, which is beginning to show so small in the Eastern World.
[FN#2] P.N. of a Jinni who rules the insect-kingdom and who is invoked by scribes to protect their labours from the worm.
[FN#3] Both name and number suggest the “Calc. Edit.” of 1814. See “Translator’s Foreword” vol. i., x)x.-xx. There is another version of the first two hundred Nights, from the “Calc. Edit.” into Urdu by one Haydar Ali 1 vol. roy. 8vo lithog. Calc. 1263 (1846).— R.F.B.
[FN#4] “Alf Leilah” in Hindostani 4 vols. in 2, royal 8vo, lithographed, Lakhnau, 1263 (1846).—R. F. B.
[FN#5] This is the “Alif” (!) Leila, Tarjuma-i Alif (!) Laila ba-Zuban-i-Urdu (Do Jild, baharfat-i-Yurop), an Urdu translation of the Arabian Nights, printed entirely in the Roman character, etc., etc.—R.F.B.
[FN#6] i.e., The Thousand Tales.
[FN#7] From the Ms, in the Bibliocheque Nationale (Supplement Arab. No. 2523) vol. ii., p. 82, verso to p. 94, verso. The Sisters are called Dinarzad and Shahrazad, a style which I have not adopted.
[FN#8] THe old versions read “Ornament (Adornment?) of the Statues,” Zierde der Pildsulen (Weil). I hold the name to be elliptical, Zayn (al-Din = Adornment of The Faith and owner of) al-Asnam = the Images. The omission of Al-Din in proper names is very common; e.g., Fakhr (Al-Din) Al-Iftakhari (Iftikhar-al-Din) and many others given by De Sacy (Chrest.i. 30, and in the Treatise on Coffee by Abdal-Kadir). So Al-Kamal, Al-Imad, Al-Baha are = Kamal al-Din, etc. in Jbn Khallikan, iii 493. Sanam properly = an idol is popularly applied to all artificial figures of man and beast. I may note that we must not call the hero, after Galland’s fashion, unhappily adopted by Weil, tout bonnement “Zayn.”
[FN#9] Galland persistently writes “Balsorah,” a European corruption common in his day, the childhood of Orientalism in Europe. The Hindostani versions have “Bansra,” which is worse.
[FN#10] For notes on Geomancy (Zarb Raml) see vol. iii. 269.
[FN#11] THe Hindostani Version enlarges upon this:—“Besides this, kings cannot escape perils and mishaps which serve as warnings and examples to them when dealing their decrees.”
[FN#12] In the XIXth century we should say “All the—ologies.”
[FN#13] In the Hindostani Version he begins by “breaking the seal which had been set upon the royal treasury.”
[FN#14] “Three things” (says Sa’di in the Gulistan) “lack permanency, Wealth without trading, Learning without disputation, Government without justice.” (chap. viii. max. 8). The Bakhtiyar-nameh adds that “Government is a tree whose root is legal punishment (Siyasat); its root-end is justice; its bough, mercy; its flower, wisdom; its leaf, liberality; and its fruit, kindness and benevolence. The foliage of every tree whose root waxeth dry (lacketh sap) taketh a yellow tint and beareth no fruit.”
[FN#15] For this word, see vol. ix. 108. It is the origin of the Fr. “Douane” and the Italian “Dogana” through the Spanish Aduana (Ad-Diwan) and the Provencal “Doana.” Menage derives it from the Gr. {Greek} =a place where goods are received, and others from “Doge” (Dux) for whom a tax on merchandise was levied at Venice. Littre (s.v.) will not decide, but rightly inclines to the Oriental origin.
[FN#16] A Hadis says, “The dream is the inspiration of the True Believer;” but also here, as the sequel shows, the Prince believed the Shaykh to be the Prophet, concerning whom a second Hadis declares, “Whoso seeth me in his sleep seeth me truly, for Satan may not assume my semblance.” See vol. iv. 287. The dream as an inspiration shows early in literature, e.g.
—{Greek}
(Il. i. 63).
and
—{Greek}
(Il. ii 55).
in which the Dream is {Greek}.
[FN#17] In the Hindostani Version he becomes a Pir = saint, spiritual guide.
[FN#18] A favourite sentiment. In Sir Charles Murray’s excellent novel, “Hassan: or, the Child of the Pyramid,” it takes the form, “what’s past is past and what is written is written and shall come to pass.”
[FN#19] In the H. V. the Prince digs a vat or cistern-shaped hole a yard deep. Under the ringed slab he also finds a door whose lock he breaks with his pickaxe and seeing a staircase of white marble lights a candle and reaches a room whose walls are of porcelain and its floor and ceiling are of crystal.
[FN#20] Arab. Khawabi (plur. of Khabiyah) large jars usually of pottery. In the H. V. four shelves of mother o’ pearl support ten jars of porphyry rangeed in rows and the Prince supposes (with Galland) that the contents are good old wine.
[FN#21] Arab. “’Atik”: the superficial similiarity of the words have produced a new noun in Arabic, e.g. Abu Antika = father of antiquities, a vendor of such articles mostly modern, “brand-new and intensely old.”
[FN#22] In the text “Ashkhas” (plural of Shakhs) vulgarly used, throughout India, Persia and other Moslem realms, in the sense of persons or individuals. For its lit. sig. see vols. iii. 26; and viii. 159. The H. V. follows Galland in changing to pedestals the Arab thrones, and makes the silken hanging a “piece of white satin” which covers the unoccupied base.
[FN#23] The blessed or well-omened: in these days it is mostly a servile name, e.g. Sidi Mubarak Bombay. See vol. ix. 58,330.
[FN#24] In the test “Min” for “Man,” a Syro-Egyptian form common throughout this Ms.
[FN#25] “Ay Ni’am,” an emphatic and now vulgar expression.
[FN#26] The Ms. here has “’Imarah” = a building, probably a clerical error for Magharah,” a cave, a souterrain.
[FN#27] Arab, “Zahab-ramli,” explained in “Alaeddin.” So Al-Mutanabbi sang:—
“I become not of them because homed in their
ground: * Sandy
earth is the gangue
wherein gold is found.”
[FN#28] Walimah prop. = a marriage-feast. For the different kinds of entertainments see vols. vi. 74; viii. 231.
[FN#29] Arab. Mukattai al-Yadayn, a servile posture: see vols. iii. 218; ix. 320.
[FN#30] Here the Arabic has the advantage of the English; “Shakhs” meaning either a person or an image. See supra, p. 11.
[FN#31] Arab. “Kawariji = one who uses the paddle, a paddler, a rower.
[FN#32] In the Third Kalandar’s Tale (vol. i. 143) Prince ’Ajib is forbidden to call upon the name of Allah, under pain of upsetting the skiff paddled by the man of brass. Here the detail is omitted.
[FN#33] Arab. “Wahsh,” which Galland translates “Tiger,” and is followed by his Hind. translator.
[FN#34] Arab. “Laffa ’l-isnayn bi-zulumati-h,” the latter word = Khurtum, the trunk of an elephant, from Zalm = the dewlap of sheep or goat.
[FN#35] In the text “Yamin,” a copyist’s error, which can mean nothing else but “Yasimin.”
[FN#36] The H. V. rejects this detail for “a single piece of mother-o’-pearl twelve yards long,” etc. Galland has une seule ecaille de poisson. In my friend M. Zotenberg’s admirable translation of Tabara (i. 52) we read of a bridge at Baghdad made of the ribs of Og bin ’Unk (= Og of the Neck), the fabled King of Bashan.
[FN#37] I have noted that this is the primitive attire of Eastern man in all hot climates, and that it still holds its ground in that grand survival of heathenry, the Meccan Pilgrimage. In Galland the four strips are of taffetas jaune, the Hind. “Tafti.”
[FN#38] The word is Hizam = girdle, sash, waist-belt, which Galland turns into nappes. The object of the cloths edged with gems and gums was to form a barrier excluding hostile Jinns: the European magician usually drew a magic circle.
[FN#39] This is our corruption of the Malay Aigla = sandal wood. See vol. ix. 150.
[FN#40] Lit. = the Day of Assembly, “Yaum al-Mahshar.” These lines were translated at Cannes on Feb. 22n, 1886, the day before the earthquake which brought desolation upon the Riviera. It was a second curious coincidence. On Thursday, July 10th, 1863—the morning when the great earthquake at Accra laid in ruins the town and the stout old fort built in the days of James ii—I had been reading the Koranic chapter entitled “Earthquakes” (No. Xcix.) to some Moslem friends who had visited my quarters. Upwards of a decade afterwards I described teh accident in “Ocean Highways” (New Series, No. II., Vol. I, pp. 448-461), owned by Trubner & Co., and edited by my friend Clements Markham, and I only regret that this able Magazine has been extinguished by that dullest of Journals, “Porceedings of the R. S. S. and monthly record of Geography.”
[FN#41] Galland has un tremblement pareil a celui qu’Israfyel (Israfil) doit causer le jour du jugement.
[FN#42] The idea is Lady M. W. Montague’s ("The Lady’s Resolve.”)
In
part she is to blame that has been tried:
He
comes too near that comes to be denied.
As an unknown correspondent warns me the sentiment was probably suggested by Sir Thomas Overbury ("A Wife.” St. xxxvi):—
—In
part to blame is she
Which
hath without consent bin only tride:
He
comes too near that comes to be denide.
[FN#43] These highly compromising magical articles are of many kinds. The ballad of The Boy and the Mantle is familiar to all, how in the case of Sir Kay’s lady:—
When she had tane the mantle
With purpose for to wear;
It shrunk up to her shoulder
And left her backside bare.
Percy, Vol. I., i and
Book iii.
Percy derives the ballad from “Le COurt Mantel,” an old French piece and Mr. Evans (Specimens of Welsh Poetry) from an ancient Ms, of Tegan Earfron, one of Arthur’s mistresses, who possessed a mantle which would not fit immodest women. See also in Spenser, Queen Florimel’s Girdle (F.Q. iv. 5,3), and the detective is a horn in the Morte d’Arthur, translated from the French, temp. Edward iv., and first printed in A. D. 1484. The Spectator (No. 579) tells us “There was a Temple upon Mount Etna which was guarded by dogs of so exquisite a smell, that they could discover whether the Persons who came thither were chaste or not;” and that they caused, as might be expected, immense trouble. The test-article becomes in the Tuti-nameh the Tank of Trial at Agra; also a nosegay which remains fresh or withers; in the Katha Sarit Sagara, the red lotus of Shiva; a shirt in Story lxix. Gesta Romanorum; a cup in Ariosto; a rose-garland in “The Wright’s Chaste WIfe,” edited by Mr. Furnival for the Early English Text Society; a magic picture in Bandello, Part I., No. 21; a ring in the Pentamerone, of Basile; and a distaff in “L’Adroite Princesse,” a French imitation of the latter.
[FN#44] Looking glasses in the East are mostly made, like our travelling mirrors, to open and shut.
[FN#45] In Eastern countries the oarsman stands to his work and lessens his labour by applying his weight which cannot be done so forcibly when sitting even upon the sliding-seat. In rowing as in swimming we have forsaken the old custom and have lost instead of gaining.
[FN#46] I have explained this word in vol. iii. 100; viii. 51, etc., and may add the interpretation of Mr. L. C. Casartelli (p. 17) “La Philosophie Religieuse du Mazdeisme, etc., Paris Maisonneuve, 1884.” “A divine name, which has succeeded little (?) is the ancient title Bagh, the O. P. Baga of the Cuneiforms (Baga vazraka Auramazda, etc.) and the Bagha of the Avesta, whose memory is preserved in Baghdad—the city created by the Gods (?). The Pahlevi books show the word in the compound Baghobakht, lit. = what is granted by the Gods, popularly, Providence.”
[FN#47] The H. V. makes the old woman a “finished procuress whose skill was unrivalled in that profession.”
[FN#48] In the text “Al-Sadi w’al-Ghadi:” the latter may mean those who came for the morning meal.
[FN#49] An antistes, a leader in prayer (vols. ii. 203, and iv. 227); a reverend, against whom the normal skit is directed. The H. V. makes him a Muezzin, also a Mosque-man; and changes his name to Murad. Imam is a word with a host of meanings, e.g., model (and master), a Sir-Oracle, the Caliph, etc., etc.
[FN#50] i.e. being neighbours they would become to a certain extent answerable for the crimes committed within the quarter.
[FN#51] Arab. “Nakshat” and “Sifrat.”
[FN#52] Arab. “Farajiyah,” for which see vol. i. 210, 321.
[FN#53] For this aphrodisiac see vol. vi. 60.
[FN#54] In the text “Ay ni’am,” still a popular expression.
[FN#55] Arab. “’Ilm al-Hiah,” gen. translated Astrology, but here meaning scientific Physiognomy. All these branches of science, including Palmistry, are nearly connected; the features and the fingers, mounts, lines, etc. being referred to the sun, moon and planets.
[FN#56] Arab. “Mihaffah bi-takhtrawan”: see vols. ii. 180; v. 175.
[FN#57] The H. V. is more explicit: “do not so, or the King of the Jann will slay thee even before thou canst enjoy her and will carry her away.”
[FN#58] Arab. “Shahwah” the rawest and most direct term. The Moslem religious has no absurd shame of this natural passion. I have heard of a Persian Imam, who, suddenly excited as he was sleeping in a friend’s house, awoke the master with, “Shahwah daram” = “I am lustful” and was at once gratified by a “Mut’ah,” temporary and extempore marriage to one of the slave-girls. These morganatic marriages are not, I may note, allowed to the Sunnis.
[FN#59] Arab. “Min ba’di an” for “Min ba’di ma” = after that, still popular in the latter broad form.
[FN#60] The word has been used in this tale with a threefold sense Egypt, old Cairo (Fostat) and new Cairo, in fact to the land and to its capital for the time being.
[FN#61] Arab. “Kabbaltu” = I have accepted, i.e., I accept emphatically. Arabs use this form in sundry social transactions, such as marriages, sales, contracts, bargains, and so forth, to denote that the engagement is irrevocable and that no change can be made. De Sacy neglected to note this in his Grammar, but explains it in his Chrestomathy (i. 44, 53), and rightly adds that the use of this energetic form peut-etre serait susceptible d’applications plus etendues.
[FN#62] La nuit de l’entree, say the French: see Lane “Leylet ed-dukhlah” (M.E. chapt. vi.).
[FN#63] This Ms. uses “Milah” (pleasant) for “Mubah” (permitted). I must remark, before parting with Zayn al-Asnam, that its object is to inculcate that the price of a good wife is “far above rubies” (Prov. xxxi. 10: see the rest of this fine chapter), a virtuous woman being “a crown to her husband” (ibid. xxii. 4); and “a prudent wife is from the Lord” (Prov. xix. 4). The whole tale is told with extreme delicacy and the want of roughness and energy suggests a European origin.
[FN#64] i.e. the “Height or Glory (’Ala) of the Faith (al-Din)” pron. Alaaddeen; which is fairly represented by the old form “Aladdin;” and better by De Sacy’s “Ala-eddin.” The name has occurred in The Nights, vol. iv. 29-33; it is a household word in England and who has not heard of THomas Hood’s “A-lad-in?” Easterns write it in five different ways and in the Paris Ms. it is invariably “’Ali al-din,” which is a palpable mistake. The others are (1) ’Ala al-Din, (2) ’Ala yadin, (3) ’Alah Din in the H. V. and (4) ’Alaa al-Din (with the Hamzah), the last only being grammatical. In Galland the Histoire de la Lampe merveilleuse is preceded by the Histoire du Dormeur Eveille which, being “The Story of Abu al-Hasan the Wag, or the Sleeper awakened,” of the Bresl. Edit. (Nights cclxxi.-ccxc.), is here omitted. The Alaeddin Story exists in germ in Tale ii. of the “Dravidian Nights Entertainments,” (Madana Kamara-Sankadaj), by Pandit S. M. Natisa Shastri (Madras, 1868, and London, Trubner). We are told by Mr. Coote that it is well represented in Italy. The Messina version is by Pitte, “La Lanterna Magica,” also the Palermitan “Lanterne;” it is “Il Matrimonio di Cajussi” of Rome (R. H. Busk’s Folk-lore); “Il Gallo e il Mago,” of Visentini’s “Fiabe Mantovane,” and the “Pesciolino,” and “Il Contadino che aveva tre Figli,” of Imbriana. In “La Fanciulla c il Mago,” of De Gubernatis ("Novelline di Sante Stefano de Calcenaja,” p. 47), occurs the popular incident of the original. “The Magician was not a magician for nothing. He feigned to be a hawker and fared through the streets, crying out, ’Donne, donne, chi baratta anelli di ferro contra anelli di argento?’”
Alaeddin has ever been a favourite with the stage. Early in the present century it was introduced to the Parisian opera by M. Etienne, to the Feydeau by Theaulon’s La Clochette: to the Gymnase by La Petite-Lampe of M. Scribe and Melesville, and to teh Panorama Dramatique by mm. Merle, Cartouche and Saintine (Gauttier, vii. 380).
[FN#65] This Ms. always uses Dinarzad like Galland.
[FN#66] Arab. “’Abadan,” a term much used in this Ms. and used correctly. It refers always and only to future time, past being denoted by “Kattu” from Katta = he cut (in breadth, as opposed to Kadda=he cut lengthwise). See De Sacy, Chrestom. ii. 443.
[FN#67] In the text “Ibn min,” a vulgarism for “man.” Galland adds that the tailor’s name was Mustapha—i y avait un tailleur nomme Mustafa.
[FN#68] In classical Arabic the word is “Maghribi,” the local form of the root Gharaba= he went far away (the sun), set, etc., whence “Maghribi"=a dweller in the Sunset-land. The vulgar, however, prefer “Maghrab” and “Maghrabi,” of which foreigners made “Mogrebin.” For other information see vols. vi. 220; ix. 50. The “Moormen” are famed as magicians; so we find a Maghrabi Sahhar=wizard, who by the by takes part in a transformation scene like that of the Second Kalandar (vol. i. p. 134, The Nights), in p. 10 of Spitta Bey’s “Contes Arabes Modernes,” etc. I may note that “Sihr,” according to Jauhari and Firozabadi=anything one can hold by a thin or subtle place, i.e., easy to handle. Hence it was applied to all sciences, “Sahhar” being=to ’Alim (or sage) . and the older Arabs called poetry “Sihar al-halal”—lawful magic.
[FN#69] i.e. blood is thicker than water, as the Highlanders say.
[FN#70] A popular saying amongst Moslems which has repeatedly occurred in The Nights. The son is the “lamp of a dark house.” Vol. ii 280.
[FN#71] Out of respect to his brother, who was probably the senior: the H. V. expressly says so.
[FN#72] Al-Marhum = my late brother. See vol. ii. 129, 196.
[FN#73] This must refer to Cairo not to Al-Medinah whose title is “Al-Munawwarah” = the Illumined.
[FN#74] A picturesque term for birth-place.
[FN#75] In text “Ya Rajul” (for Rajul) = O man, an Egypto-Syrian form, broad as any Doric.
[FN#76] Arab. Shuf-hu, the colloquial form of Shuf-hu
[FN#77] For the same sentiment see “Julnar” the “Sea born,” Nights dccxliii.-xliv.
[FN#78] “I will hire thee a shop in the Chauk”—Carfax or market-street says the H. V.
[FN#79] The Ms. writes the word Khwaja (for Khwajah see vol. vi. 46). Here we are at once interested in the scapegrace who looked Excelsior. In fact the tale begins with a strong inducement to boyish vagabondage and scampish indolence; but the Moslem would see in it the hand of Destiny bringing good out of evil. Amongst other meanings of “Khwajah " it is a honorific title given by Khorasanis to their notables. In Arab. the similarity of the word to “Khuwaj"=hunger, has given rise to a host of conceits, more or less frigid (Ibn Khallikan, iii. 45).
[FN#80] Arab. “Wahid min al-Tujjar,” the very vulgar style.
[FN#81] i.e., the Saturday (see vol. ii. 305) established as a God’s rest by the so-called “Mosaic” commandment No. iv. How it gradually passed out of observance, after so many centuries of most stringent application, I cannot discover: certainly the text in Cor. ii. 16-17 is insufficient to abolish or supersede an order given with such singular majesty and impressiveness by God and so strictly obeyed by man. The popular idea is that the Jewish Sabbath was done away with in Christ, and that sundry of the 1604 councils, e.g., Laodicea, anathematized those who kept it holy after such fashion. With the day the aim and object changed; and the early Fathers made it the “Feast of the Resurrection” which could not be kept too joyously. The “Sabbatismus” of our Sabbatarians, who return to the Israelitic practice and yet honour the wrong day, is heretical and vastly illogical; and the Sunday is better kept in France, Italy and other “Catholic” countries than in England and Scotland.
[FN#82] For “Mushayyadat” see vol. viii. 23.
[FN#83] All these words saru, dakhalu, jalasu, &c. are in the plur. for the dual—popular and vulgar speech. It is so throughout the Ms.
[FN#84] The Persians apply the Arab word “Sahra"=desert, to the waste grounds about a town.
[FN#85] Arab. Kashakish from the quadril, kashkasha = he gathered fuel.
[FN#86] In text “Shayy bi-lash” which would mean lit. a thing gratis or in vain.
[FN#87] In the text “Sabba raml” = cast in sand. It may be a clerical error for “Zaraba Raml” = he struck sand, i.e., made geomantic figures.
[FN#88] Arab. Mauza’= a place, an apartment, a saloon.
[FN#89] Galland makes each contain quatre vases de bronze, grands comme des cuves.
[FN#90] The Arab. is “Liwan,” for which see vols. iv. 71 and vii. 347. Galland translates it by a “terrace” and “niche.”
[FN#91] The idea is borrowed from the lume eterno of the Rosicrucians. It is still prevalent throughout Syria where the little sepulchral lamps buried by the Hebrews, Greeks and Romans are so called. Many tales are told of their being found burning after the lapse of centuries; but the traveller will never see the marvel.
[FN#92] The first notice of the signet-ring and its adventures is by Herodotus in the Legend of the Samian Polycrates; and here it may be observed that the accident is probably founded on fact; every fisherman knows that fish will seize and swallow spoon-bait and other objects that glitter. The text is the Talmudic version of Solomon’s seal-ring. The king of the demons after becoming a “Bottle-imp,” prayed to be set free upon condition of teaching a priceless secret, and after cajoling the Wise One flung his signet into the sea and cast the owner into a land four hundred miles distant. Here David’s son begged his bread till he was made head cook to the King of Ammon at Mash Kernin. After a while,
[FN#93] The Magician evidently had mistaken the powers of the Ring. This is against all probability and possibility, but on such abnormal traits are tales and novels founded.
[FN#94] These are the Gardens of the Hesperides and of King Isope (Tale of Beryn, Supplem. Canterbury Tales, Chaucer Soc. p. 84):—
In
mydward of this gardyn stant a feire tre
Of
alle manner levis that under sky be
I-forgit
and i- fourmyd, eche in his degre
Of
sylver, and of golde fyne, that lusty been to see.
So in the Katha (S. S.) there are trees with trunks of gold, branches of pearls, and buds and flowers of clear white pearls.
[FN#95] The text causes some confusion by applying “Sullam” to staircase and ladder, hence probably the latter is not mentioned by Galland and Co., who speak only of an escalier de cinquante marches. “Sullam” (plur. “Salalim”) in modern Egyptian is popularly used for a flight of steps: see Spitta-Bey’s “Contes Arabes Modernes,” p. 70. The H. V. places under the slab a hollow space measuring four paces (kadam = 2.5 feet), and at one corner a wicket with a ladder. This leads to a vault of three rooms, one with the jars of gold; the second not to be swept by the skirts, and the third opening upon the garden of gems. “There thou shalt see a path, whereby do thou fare straight forwards to a lofty palace with a flight of fifty steps leading to a flat terrace: and here shalt thou find a niche wherein a lamp burneth.”
[FN#96] In the H.V. he had thrust the lamp into the bosom of his dress, which, together with his sleeves, he had filled full of fruit, and had wound his girdle tightly around him lest any fall out.
[FN#97] Africa (Arab. Afrikiyah) here is used in its old and classical sense for the limited tract about Carthage (Tunis) net, Africa Propria. But the scribe imagines it to be the P. N. of a city: so m Judar (vol. vi. 222) we find Fas and Miknas (Fez and Mequinez) converted into one settlement. The Maghribi, Mauritanian or Maroccan is famed for sorcery throughout the Moslem world: see vol. vi. 220. The Moslem “Kingdom of Afrikiyah” was composed of four provinces, Tunis, Tripoli, Constantina, and Bugia: and a considerable part of it was held by the Berber tribe of Sanhaja or Sinhaga, also called the Zenag whence our modern “Senegal.” Another noted tribe which held Bajaiyah (Bugia) in Afrikiyah proper was the “Zawawah,” the European “Zouaves,” (Ibn Khall. iv. 84).
[FN#98] Galland omits the name, which is outlandish enough.
[FN#99] Meaning that he had incurred no blood-guiltiness, as he had not killed the lad and only left him to die.
[FN#100] The H. V. explains away the improbability of the Magician forgetting his gift. “In this sore disquietude he bethought him not of the ring which, by the decree of Allah, was the means of Alaeddin’s escape; and indeed not only he but oft times those who practice the Black Art are baulked of their designs by Divine Providence.”
[FN#101] See vol. vii. 60. The word is mostly derived from " ’afar” = dust, and denotes, according to some, a man coloured like the ground or one who “dusts” all his rivals. " ’Ifr” (fem. ’Ifrah) is a wicked and dangerous man. Al-Jannabi, I may here notice, is the chief authority for Afrikus son of Abraha and xviiith Tobba being the eponymus of “Africa.”
[FN#102] Arab. “Ghayr an” = otherwise that, except that, a favourite form in this Ms. The first word is the Syriac “Gheir” = for, a conjunction which is most unneccessarily derived by some from the Gr. {Greek}.
[FN#103] Galland and the H.V. make the mother deliver a little hygienic lecture about not feeding too fast after famine: exactly what an Eastern parent would not dream of doing.
[FN#104] The lad now turns the tables upon his mother and becomes her master, having “a crow to pick” with her.
[FN#105] Arab. “Munafik” for whose true sense, “an infidel who pretendeth to believe in Al-Islam,” see vol. vi. p. 207. Here the epithet comes last being the climax of abuse, because the lowest of the seven hells (vol. viii. 111) was created for “hypocrites,” i.e., those who feign to be Moslems when they are Miscreants.
[FN#106] Here a little abbreviation has been found necessary to avoid the whole of a twice-told tale; but nothing material has been omitted.
[FN#107] Arab. “Taffaytu-hu.” This is the correct term = to extinguish. They relate of the great scholar Firozabadi, author of the “Kamus” (ob. A. H. 817 = A. D. 1414), that he married a Badawi wife in order to study the purest Arabic and once when going to bed said to her, “Uktuli’s-siraj,” the Persian “Chiragh-ra bi-kush” = Kill the lamp. “What,” she cried, “Thou an ’Alim and talk of killing the lamp instead of putting it out!”
[FN#108] In the H. V. the mother takes the “fruits” and places them upon the ground, “but when darkness set in, a light shone from them like the rays of a lamp or the sheen of the sun.”
[FN#109] For these fabled Giant rulers of Syria, Og King of Bashan, etc., see vols. vii. 84; ix. 109, 323. D’Herbelot (s. v. Giabbar= Giant) connects “Jababirah” with the Heb. Ghibbor Ghibborim and the Pers. Div, Divan: of these were ’Ad and Shaddad, Kings of Syria: the Falast"in (Philistines) ’Auj, Amalik and Banu Shayth or Seth’s descendants, the sons of God (Benu-Elohim) of the Book of Genesis (vi. 2) who inhabited Mount Hermon and lived in purity and chastity.
[FN#110] The H. V. explains that the Jinni had appeared to the mother in hideous aspect, with noise and clamour, because she had scoured the Lamp roughly; but was more gentle with Alaeddin because he had rubbed it lightly. This is from Galland.
[FN#111] Arab. Musawwadatayn = lit. two black things, rough copies, etc.
[FN#112] Arab. Banu Adam, as opposed to Banu Elohim (Sons of the Gods), B. al-Jann etc The Banu al-Asfar = sons of the yellow, are Esau’s posterity in Edom, also a term applied by Arab historians to the Greeks and Romans whom Jewish fable derived from Idumaea: in my vol. ii. 220, they are the people of the yellow or tawny faces. For the legend see Ibn Khall. iii. 8, where the translator suggests that the by-name may be = the “sees of the Emperor” Flavius, confounded with “flavus,” a title left by Vespasian to his successors The Banu al Khashkhash = sons of the (black) poppy are the Ethiopians.
[FN#113] Arab, Ha! ha! so Haka (fem. Haki) = Here for thee!
[FN#114] So in Medieval Europe Papal bulls and Kings’ letters were placed for respect on the head. See Duffield’s “Don Quixote,” Part i. xxxi.
[FN#115] Galland makes the Juif only ruse et adroit.
[FN#116] Arab. “Ghashim” = a “Johnny Raw” from the root “Ghashm” = iniquity: Builders apply the word to an unhewn stone; addressed to a person it is considered slighting, if not insulting. See vol. ii. 330.
[FN#117] The carat (Kirat) being most often, but not always, one twenty-fourth of the diner. See vols. iii. 239; vii. 289.
[FN#118] Kanani, plur. of Kinninah.
[FN#119] Here and below silver is specified, whenas the platters in Night dxxxv. were of gold This is one of the many changes’ contradictions and confusions which are inherent in Arab stones. See Spitta-Bey’s “Contes Arabes,” Preface.
[FN#120] i.e., the Slave of the Lamp.
[FN#121] This may be true, but my experience has taught me to prefer dealing with a Jew than with a Christian. The former will “jew” me perhaps, but his commercial cleverness will induce him to allow me some gain in order that I may not be quite disheartened: the latter will strip me of my skin and will grumble because he cannot gain more.
[FN#122] Arab. “Halah mutawassitah,” a phrase which has a European Touch.
[FN#123] In the text “Jauharjiyyah,” common enough in Egypt and Syria, an Arab. plur. of an Arabised Turkish sing.—ji for—chi = (crafts-) man.
[FN#124] We may suppose some years may have passed in this process and that Alaeddin from a lad of fifteen had reached the age of manhood. The H. V. declares that for many a twelve month the mother and son lived by cotton spinning and the sale of the plate
[FN#125] i.e. Full moon of full moons: See vol. iii. 228. It is pronounced “Badroo’l- Budoor,” hence Galland’s " Badr-oul-boudour. "
[FN#126] In the H. V. Alaeddin “bethought him of a room adjacent to the Baths where he might sit and see the Princess through the door-chinks, when she raised her veil before the handmaids and eunuchs.”
[FN#127] This is the common conceit of the brow being white as day and the hair black as night.
[FN#128] Such a statement may read absurdly to the West but it is true in the East. “Selim” had seen no woman’s face unveiled, save that of his sable mother Rosebud in Morier’s Tale of Yeldoz, the wicked woman ("The Mirza,” vol. iii. 135). The H. V. adds that Alaeddin’s mother was old and verily had little beauty even in her youth. So at the sight of the Princess he learnt that Allah had created women exquisite in loveliness and heart-ensnaring; and at first glance the shaft of love pierced his heart and he fell to the ground afaint He loved her with a thousand lives and, when his mother questioned him, “his lips formed no friendship with his speech.”
[FN#129] “There is not a present (Teshurah) to bring to the Man of God” (1 Sam. ix. 7), and Menachem explains Teshurah as a gift offered with the object of being admitted to the presence. See also the offering of oil to the King in Isaiah lvii. 9. Even in Maundriell’s Day Travels (p. 26) it was counted uncivil to visit a dignitary without an offering in hand.
[FN#130] As we shall see further on, the magical effect of the Ring and the Lamp extend far and wide over the physique and morale of the owner: they turn a “raw laddie” into a finished courtier, warrior, statesman, etc.
[FN#131] In Eastern states the mere suspicion of having such an article would expose the suspected at least to torture. Their practical system of treating “treasure trove,” as I saw when serving with my regiment in Gujarat (Guzerat), is at once to imprison and “molest” the finder, in order to make sure that he has not hidden any part of his find.
[FN#132] Here the Ms. text is defective, the allusion is, I suppose, to the Slave of the Lamp.
[FN#133] In the H. V. the King retired into his private apartment; and, dismissing all save the Grand Wazir, “took cognisance of special matters” before withdrawing to the Harem.
[FN#134] The levee, Divan or Darbar being also a lit de justice and a Court of Cassation: See vol. i. 29.
[FN#135] All this is expressed by the Arabic in one word “Tamanna.” Galland adds pour marquer qu’il etait pret a perdre s’il y manquait; and thus he conveys a wrong idea.
[FN#136] This would be still the popular address, nor is it considered rude or slighting. In John (ii. 4) “Atto,” the Heb. Eshah, is similarly used, not complimentarily, but in popular speech.
[FN#137] This sounds ridiculous enough in English, but not in German, e.g. Deine Konigliche Hoheit is the formula de rigueur when an Austrian officer, who always addresses brother-soldiers in the familiar second person, is speaking to a camarade who is also a royalty.
[FN#138] “Surayyat (lit. = the Pleiades) and “Sham’adin” a would-be Arabic plur. of the Persian “Sham’adan"=candlestick, chandelier, for which more correctly Sham’adanat is used.
[FN#139] i.e., betrothed to her—j’agree la proposition, says Galland.
[FN#140] Here meaning Eunuch-officers and officials. In the cdlxxvith Night of this volume the word is incorrectly written Aghat in the singular.
[FN#141] In the H. V. Alaeddin on hearing this became as if a thunderbolt had stricken him, and losing consciousness, swooned away.
[FN#142] These calls for food at critical times, and oft-recurring allusions to eating are not yet wholly obsolete amongst the civilised of the xixth century. The ingenious M. Jules Verne often enlivens a tedious scene by Dejeunons! And French travellers, like English, are not unready to talk of food and drink, knowing that the subject is never displeasing to their readers.
[FN#143] The H. V. gives a sketch of the wedding. “And when the ceremonies ended at the palace with pomp and parade and pageant, and the night was far spent, the eunuchs led the Wazir’s son into the bridal chamber. He was the first to seek his couch; then the Queen his mother-in-law, came into him leading the bride, and followed by her suite. She did with her virgin daughter as parents are wont to do, removed her wedding-raiment, and donning a night-dress, placed her in her bridegroom’s arms. Then, wishing her all joy, she with her ladies went away and shut the door. At that instant came the Jinni,” etc.
[FN#144] The happy idea of the wedding night in the water-closet is repeated from the tale of Nur-al-Din Ali Hasan (vol. i. 221), and the mishap of the Hunchback bridegroom.
[FN#145] For the old knightly practice of sleeping with a drawn sword separating man and maid see vol. vii. 353 and Mr. Clouston’s “Popular Tales and Fictions,” vol. i. 316. In Poland the intermediary who married by procuration slept alongside the bride in all his armour. The H. V. explains, “He (Alaeddin) also lay a naked sword between him and the Princess so she might perceive that he was ready to die by that blade should he attempt to do aught of villainy by the bride.”
[FN#146] Galland says: Ils ne s’apercurent que de l’ebranlement du lit et que de leur transport d’un lieu a l’autre: c’etait bien assez pour leur donner une frayeur qu’il est aise d’imaginer.
[FN#147] Galland very unnecessarily makes the Wazir’s son pass into the wardrobe (garderobe) to dress himself.
[FN#148] Professional singing and dancing girls: Properly the word is the fem. Of ’Alim = a learned man; but it has been anglicised by Byron’s
“The long chibouque’s
dissolving cloud supply
Where dance the Almahs to wild minstrelsy.”
—(The Corsair, ii. 2.)
They go about the streets with unveiled faces and are seldom admitted into respectable Harems, although on festal occasions they perform in the court or in front of the house, but even this is objected to by the Mrs. Grundy of Egypt. Lane (M.E. chap. xviii.) derives with Saint Jerome the word from the Heb. or Phoenician Almah = a virgin, a girl, a singing- girl; and thus explains “Alamoth” in Psalms xlvi. and I Chron. xv. 20. Parkhurst (s.v. ’Alamah = an undeflowered virgin) renders Job xxxix. 30, “the way of a man with a maid” (bi-almah). The way of a man in his virgin state, shunning youthful lust and keeping himself “pure and unspotted.”
[FN#149] The text reads “Rafa’ " (he raised) “al-Bashkhanah” which in Suppl. Nights (ii. 119) is a hanging, a curtain. Apparently it is a corruption of the Pers. “Paskhkhanah,” a mosquito-curtain.
[FN#150] The father suspected that she had not gone to bed a clean maid.
[FN#151] Arab. Aysh = Ayyu Shayyin and Laysh = li ayyi Shayyin. This vulgarism, or rather popular corruption, is of olden date and was used by such a purist as Al-Mutanabbi in such a phrase as “Aysh Khabara-k?” = how art thou? See Ibn Khallikan, iii. 79.
[FN#152] In the H. V. the Minister sends the Chob-dar= = rod-bearer, mace-bearer, usher, etc.
[FN#153] In the text Sahal for Sahal, again the broad “Doric” of Syria.
[FN#154] Arab. Dahab ramli = gold dust washed out of the sand, placer-gold. I must excuse myself for using this Americanism, properly a diluvium or deposit of sand, and improperly (Bartlett) a find of drift gold. The word, like many mining terms in the Far West, is borrowed from the Spaniards; it is not therefore one of the many American vulgarisms which threaten hopelessly to defile the pure well of English speech.
[FN#155] Abra. “Ratl,” by Europeans usually pronounced “Rotl” (Rotolo).
[FN#156] In the H. V. she returns from the bazar; and, “seeing the house filled with so many persons in goodliest attire, marvelled greatly. Then setting down the meat lately bought she would have taken off her veil, but Alaeddin prevented her and said,” etc.
[FN#157] The word is popularly derived from Serai in Persian = a palace; but it comes from the Span. and Port. Cerrar = to shut up, and should be written with the reduplicated liquid.
[FN#158] In the H. V. the dresses and ornaments of the slaves were priced at ten millions (Karur a crore) of gold coins. I have noticed that Messer Marco “Milione” did not learn his high numerals in Arabia, but that India might easily have taught them to him.
[FN#159] Arab. “Raih yasir,” peasant’s language.
[FN#160] Arab. Ka’ah, the apodyterium or undressing room upon which the vestibule of the Hammam opens. See the plan in Lane’s M. E. chaps. xvi. The Kar’ah is now usually called “Maslakh” = stripping-room.
[FN#161] Arab. “Hammam-hu” = went through all the operations of the Hammam, scraping, kneading, soaping, wiping and so forth.
[FN#162] For this aphrodisiac see vol. vi. 60. The subject of aphrodisiacs in the East would fill a small library: almost every medical treatise ends in a long disquisition upon fortifiers, provocatives’ etc. We may briefly divide them into three great classes. The first is the medicinal, which may be either external or internal. The second is the mechanical, such as scarification’ flagellation, and the application of insects as practiced by certain savage races. There is a venerable Joe Miller of an old Brahmin whose young wife always insisted, each time before he possessed her, upon his being stung by a bee in certain parts. The third is magical superstitious and so forth
[FN#163] This may sound exaggerated to English ears, but a petty Indian Prince, such as the Gaikwar, or Rajah of Baroda, would be preceded in state processions by several led horses all whose housings and saddles were gold studded with diamonds. The sight made one’s mouth water.
[FN#164] i.e. the ’Arab al-’Arba; for which see vols. i. 112; v. 101.
[FN#165] Arab. “Al-Kandil al-’ajib:” here its magical virtues are specified and remove many apparent improbabilities from the tale.
[FN#166] This was the highest of honours. At Abyssinian Harar even the Grandees were compelled to dismount at the door of the royal “compound.” See my “First Footsteps in East Africa,” p. 296.
[FN#167] “The right hand” seems to me a European touch in Galland’s translation, leur chef mit Aladdin a sa droite. Amongst Moslems the great man sits in the sinistral corner of the Divan as seen from the door, so the place of honour is to his left.
[FN#168] Arab. “Musika,” classically “Musiki” ={Greek}: the Pers. form is Musikar; and the Arab. equivalent is Al-Lahn. In the H. V. the King made a signal and straightway drums (dhol) and trumpets (trafir) and all manner wedding instruments struck up on every side.
[FN#169] Arab. Marmar Sumaki=porphyry of which ancient Egypt supplied the finest specimens. I found a vein of it in the Anti-Libanus. Strange to say, the quarries which produced the far-famed giallo antico, verd’ antico (serpentine limestone) and rosso antico (mostly a porphyry) worked by the old Nilotes, are now unknown to us.
[FN#170] i.e. velvets with gold embroidery: see vol. viii. 201.
[FN#171] The Arabic says, “There was a kiosque with four-and-twenty alcoves (Liwan, for which see vols. iv. 71, vi. 347) all builded of emerald, etc., and one remained with the kiosque (kushk) unfinished.” I adopt Galland’s reading salon a vingt-quatre croisees which are mentioned in the Arab. text towards the end of the tale, and thus avoid the confusion between kiosque and window. In the H. V. there is a domed belvedere (barah-dari-i-gumbaz-dar), four-sided, with six doors on each front (i. e. twenty-four), and all studded with diamonds, etc.
[FN#172] In Persia this is called “Pa-andaz,” and must be prepared for the Shah when he deigns to visit a subject. It is always of costly stuffs, and becomes the perquisite of the royal attendants.
[FN#173] Here the European hand again appears to me: the Sultan as a good Moslem should have made the Wuzu-ablution and prayed the dawn-prayers before doing anything worldly.
[FN#174] Arab. Fi ghuzuni zalika,” a peculiar phrase, Ghazn=a crease, a wrinkle.
[FN#175] In the H. V. the King “marvelled to see Alaeddin’s mother without her veil and magnificently adorned with costly jewels and said in his mind, ’Methought she was a grey-haired crone, but I find her still in the prime of life and comely to look upon, somewhat after the fashion of Badr al-Budur.’ " This also was one of the miracles of the Lamp.
[FN#176] For this word see vols. i. 46, vii. 326. A Joe Miller is told in Western India of an old General Officer boasting his knowledge of Hindostani. “How do you say, Tell a plain story, General?” asked one of the hearers, and the answer was, “Maydan ki bat bolo!” = “speak a word about the plain” (or level space).
[FN#177] The prehistoric Arabs: see supra p. 98.
[FN#178] Popularly, Jerid, the palm-frond used as javelin: see vol. vi. 263.
[FN#179] In order to keep off the evil eye, one of the functions of iron and steel: see vol. ii. 316.
[FN#180] The H. V. adds, “Little did the Princess know that the singers were fairies whom the Slave of the Lamp had brought together.”
[FN#181] Alexander the Great: see v. 252, x. 57. The H. V. adds, “Then only one man and one woman danced together, one with other, till midnight, when Alaeddin and the Princess stood up, for it was the wont of China in those days that bride and bridegroom perform together in presence of the wedding company.”
[FN#182] The exceptional reserve of this and other descriptions makes M. H. Zotenberg suspect that the tale was written for one of the Mameluke Princesses: I own to its modesty but I doubt that such virtue would have recommended it to the dames in question. The H. V. adds a few details:—“Then, when the bride and bridegroom had glanced and gazed each at other’s face, the Princess rejoiced with excessive joy to behold his comeliness, and he exclaimed, in the courtesy of his gladness, ’O happy me, whom thou deignest, O Queen of the Fair, to honour despite mine unworth, seeing that in thee all charms and graces are perfected.’ "
[FN#183] The term has not escaped ridicule amongst Moslems. A common fellow having stood in his way the famous wit Abu al-’Ayna asked “What is that?” “A man of the Sons of Adam” was the reply. “Welcome, welcome,” cried the other, “Allah grant thee length of days. I deemed that all his sons were dead.” See Ibn Khallikan iii. 57.
[FN#184] This address to an inanimate object (here a window) is highly idiomatic and must be cultivated by the practical Arabist. In the H. V. the unfinished part is the four-and-twentieth door of the fictitious (ja’ali) palace.
[FN#185] This is true Orientalism, a personification or incarnation which Galland did not think proper to translate.
[FN#186] Arab. “La’ab al-Andab;” the latter word is from “Nadb” = brandishing or throwing the javelin.
[FN#187] The “mothers” are the prime figures, the daughters being the secondary. For the " ’Ilm al-Ram!” = (Science of the sand) our geomancy, see vol. iii. 269, and D’Herbelot’s sub. v. Raml or Reml.
[FN#188] This is from Galland, whose certaine boisson chaude evidently means tea. It is preserved in the H.V.
[FN#189] i.e. his astrolabe, his “Zij” or table of the stars, his almanack, etc. For a highly fanciful derivation of the “Arstable” see Ibn Khallikan (iii. 580). He makes it signify “balance or lines (Pers. ‘Astur’) of the sun,” which is called “Lab” as in the case of wicked Queen Lab (The Nights, vol. vii. 296). According to him the Astrolabe was suggested to Ptolemy by an armillary sphere which had accidentally been flattened by the hoof of his beast: this is beginning late in the day, the instrument was known to the ancient Assyrians. Chardin (Voyages ii. 149) carefully describes the Persian variety of—
“The cunning man highs Sidrophil
(as Will. Lilly was called). Amongst other things he wore at his girdle an astrolabe not bigger than the hollow of a man’s hand, often two to three inches in diameter and looking at a distance like a medal.” These men practiced both natural astrology = astronomy, as well as judicial astrology which foretells events and of which Kepler said that “she, albeit a fool, was the daughter of a wise mother, to whose support and life the silly maid was indispensable.” Isidore of Seville (A. D. 600-636) was the first to distinguish between the two branches, and they flourished side by side till Newton’s day. Hence the many astrological terms in our tongue, e.g. consider, contemplate, disaster, jovial, mercurial, saturnine, etc.
[FN#190] In the H. V. “New brass lamps for old ones! who will exchange ?” So in the story of the Fisherman’s son, a Jew who had been tricked of a cock, offers to give new rings for old rings. See Jonathan Scott’s excerpts from the Wortley-Montague MSS. vol. vi. pp. 210 12 This is one of the tales which I have translated for vol. iv.
[FN#191] The H. V. adds that Alaeddin loved to ride out a-hunting and had left the city for eight days whereof three had passed by.
[FN#192] Galland makes her say, He bien folle, veux-tu me dire pourqoui tu ris? The H. V. renders “Cease, giddy head, why laughest thou?” and the vulgate “Well, giggler,” said the Princess, etc.
[FN#193] Nothing can be more improbable than this detail, but upon such abnormal situations almost all stones, even in our most modern “Society-novels,” depend and the cause is clear—without them there would be no story. And the modern will, perhaps, suggest that “the truth was withheld for a higher purpose, for the working out of certain ends.” In the H. V Alaeddin, when about to go a-hunting, always placed the Lamp high up on the cornice with all care lest any touch it.
[FN#194] The H. V. adds, “The Magician, when he saw the Lamp, at once knew that it must be the one he sought; for he knew that all things, great and small, appertaining to the palace
[FN#195] In truly Oriental countries the Wazir is expected to know everything, and if he fail in this easy duty he may find himself in sore trouble.
[FN#196] i.e. must he obeyed.
[FN#197] We see that “China” was in those days the normal Oriental “despotism tempered by assassination.”
[FN#198] In the H. V. Alaeddin promises, “if I fail to find and fetch the Princess, I will myself cut off my head and cast it before the throne.” Hindus are adepts in suicide and this self-decapitation, which sounds absurd further West, is quite possible to them.
[FN#199] In Galland Alaeddin unconsciously rubbed the ring against un petit roc, to which he clung in order to prevent falling into the stream. In the H. V. “The bank was high and difficult of descent and the youth would have rolled down headlong had he not struck upon a rock two paces from the bottom and remained hanging over the water. This mishap was of the happiest for during his fall he struck the stone and rubbed his ring against it,” etc.
[FN#200] In the H. V. he said, “First save me that I fall not into the stream and then tell me where is the pavilion thou builtest for her and who hath removed it.”
[FN#201] Alluding to the preparatory washing, a mere matter of cleanliness which precedes the formal Wuzu-ablution.
[FN#202] In the H. V. the Princess ends with, “I had made this resolve that should he approach me with the design to win his wish perforce, I would destroy my life. By day and by night I abode in fear of him; but now at the sight of thee my heart is heartened.”
[FN#203] The Fellah had a natural fear of being seen in fine gear, which all would have supposed to be stolen goods; and Alaeddin was justified in taking it perforce, because necessitas non habet legem. See a similar exchange of dress in Spitta-Bey’s “Contes Arabes Modernes,” p. 91. In Galland the peasant when pressed consents; and in the H. V. Alaeddin persuades him by a gift of money.
[FN#204] i.e. which would take effect in the shortest time.
[FN#205] Her modesty was startled by the idea of sitting: at meat with a strange man and allowing him to make love to her.
[FN#206] In the text Kidi, pop. for Ka-zalika. In the H. V. the Magician replies to the honeyed speech of the Princess, “O my lady, we in Africa have not so gracious customs as the men of China. This day I have learned of thee a new courtesy which I shall ever keep in mind.”
[FN#207] Galland makes the Princess poison the Maghrabi, which is not gallant. The H. V. follows suit and describes the powder as a mortal poison.
[FN#208] Contrast this modesty with the usual scene of reunion after severance, as in the case of Kamar al-Zaman and immodest Queen Budur, vol. iii. pp. 302-304.
[FN#209] His dignity forbade him to walk even the length of a carpet: see vol. vii. for this habit of the Mameluke Beys. When Harun al-Rashid made his famous pilgrimage afoot from Baghdad to Meccah (and he was the last of the Caliphs who performed this rite), the whole way was spread with a “Pa-andaz” of carpets and costly cloths.
[FN#210] The proverb suggests our “par nobile fratrum,” a pair resembling each other as two halves of a split bean.
[FN#211] In the H. V. “If the elder Magician was in the East, the other was in the West; but once a year, by their skill in geomancy, they had tidings of each other.”
[FN#212] The act was religiously laudable, but to the Eastern, as to the South European mind, fair play is not a jewel; moreover the story-teller may insinuate that vengeance would be taken only by foul and unlawful means—the Black Art, perjury, murder and so forth
[FN#213] For this game, a prime favourite in Egypt, see vol. vi. 145, De Sacy (Chrestomathie i. 477) and his authorities Hyde, Syntagma Dissert. ii. 374, P. Labat, “Memoires du Chev d’Arvieux,” iii. 321; Thevenot, “Voyage du Levant,” p. 107, and Niebuhr, “Voyages,” i. 139, Plate 25, fig. H.
[FN#214] Evidently="(jeu de) dames” (supposed to have been invented in Paris during the days of the Regency: see Littre); and, although in certain Eastern places now popular, a term of European origin. It is not in Galland. According to Ibn Khallikan (iii. 69) “Nard” = tables, arose with King Ardashir son of Babuk, and was therefore called Nardashir (Nard Ardashir? ). He designed it as an image of the world and its people, so the board had twelve squares to represent the months; the thirty pieces or men represented the days, and the dice were the emblems of Fate and Lot.
[FN#215] i.e. a weaner, a name of good omen for a girl-child: see vol. vi. 145. The Hindi translator, Totaram Shayyan, calls her Hamidah = the Praiseworthy.
[FN#216] Arab. Kiramat: see vols. ii. 237; iv. 45. The Necromancer clearly smells a rat holding with Diderot:
De
par le Roi! Defense a Dieu
De
faire miracle en ce lieu;
and the stage properties afterwards found with the holy woman, such as the gallipot of colouring ointment, justify his suspicion.
[FN#217] " ’Ajaib” plur. of " ’Ajib,” a common exclamation amongst the populace. It is used in Persian as well as in Arabic.
[FN#218] Evidently la force de l’imagination, of which a curious illustration was given in Paris during the debauched days of the Second Empire. Before a highly “fashionable” assembly of men appeared a youth in fleshings who sat down upon a stool, bared his pudenda and closed his eyes when, by “force of fancy,” erection and emission took place. But presently it was suspected and proved that the stool was hollow and admitted from below a hand whose titillating fingers explained the phenomenon.
[FN#219] a Moslems are curious about sleeping postures and the popular saying is:—Lying upon the right side is proper to Kings; upon the left to Sages, to sleep supine is the position of Allah’s Saints and prone upon the belly is peculiar to the Devils.
[FN#220] This " ’Asa,” a staff five to six feet long, is one of the properties of Moslem Saints and reverends who, imitating that furious old Puritan, Caliph Omar, make and are allowed to make a pretty liberal distribution of its caresses.
[FN#221] i.e. as she was in her own home.
[FN#222] Arab. “Suluk” a Sufistical expression, the road to salvation, &c.
[FN#223] In the H. V. her diet consisted of dry bread and fruits.
[FN#224] This is the first mention of the windows in the Arabic Ms.
[FN#225] For this “Roc” of the older writers see vols. v. 122; vi. 16-49. I may remind the reader that the O. Egyptian “Rokh,” or “Rukh,” by some written “Rekhit,” whose ideograph is a monstrous bird with one claw raised, also denotes pure wise Spirits, the Magi, &c. I know a man who derives from it our “rook” = beak and parson.
[FN#226] In the H. V he takes the Lamp from his bosom, where he had ever kept it since his misadventure with the African Magician
[FN#227] Here the mythical Rukh is mixed up with the mysterious bird Simurgh, for which see vol. x. 117.
[FN#228] The H. V. adds, “hoping thereby that thou and she and all the household should fall into perdition.”
[FN#229] Rank mesmerism, which has been practiced in the East from ages immemorial. In Christendom Santa Guglielma worshipped at Brunate, “works many miracles, chiefly healing aches of head.” In the H. V. Alaeddin feigns that he is ill and fares to the Princess with his head tied up.
[FN#230] Mr. Morier in “The Mirza” (vol. i. 87) says, “Had the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, with all their singular fertility of invention and never-ending variety, appeared as a new book in the present day, translated literally and not adapted to European taste in the manner attempted in M. Galland’s translation, I doubt whether they would have been tolerated, certainly not read with the avidity they are, even in the dress with which he has clothed them, however imperfect that dress maybe.” But in Morier’s day the literal translation was so despised that an Eastern book was robbed of half its charms, both of style and idea.
[FN#231] In the Ms. Of the Bibliotheque National, Supplement Arabe (No. 2523, vol. ii. fol. 147), the story which follows “Aladdin” is that of the Ten Wazirs, for which see Supp. Nights ii. In Galland the Histoire de Codadad et des ses Freres comes next to the tale of Zayn al-Asnam: I have changed the sequence in order that the two stories directly translated from the Arabic may be together.
[FN#232] M. Hermann Zotenberg lately informed me that “Khudadad and his Brothers” is to be found in a Turkish Ms., “Al-Faraj ba’d al-Shiddah”—Joy after Annoy—in the Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris. But that work is a mere derivation from the Persian “Hazar o yek Roz” for which see my vol. x. p.441. The name Khudadad is common to most Eastern peoples, the Sansk. Devadatta, the Gr. {Greek} and Dorotheus; the Lat. Deodatus, the Ital. Diodato, and Span. Diosdado, the French Dieu-donne, and the Arab.-Persic Alladad, Divdad and Khudabaksh. Khuda is the mod. Pers. form of the old Khudai=sovereign, king, as in Mah-i-Khudai=the sovereign moon, Kam-Khudai=master of his passions, etc.
[FN#233] Lit. Homes (or habitations) of Bakr (see vol. v. 66), by the Turks pronounced “Diyar-i-Bekir.” It is the most famous of the four provinces into which Mesopotamia (Heb. Naharaym, Arab. Al-Jazirah) is divided by the Arabs; viz: Diyar Bakr (capital Amidah); Diyar Modhar (cap. Rakkah or Aracta); Diyar Rabi’ah (cap. Nisibis) and Diyar al-Jazirah or Al-Jazirah (cap. Mosul). As regards the “King of Harran,” all these ancient cities were at some time the capitals of independent chiefs who styled themselves royalties.
[FN#234] The Heb. Charran, the Carrhae of the classics where, according to the Moslems, Abraham was born, while the Jews and Christians make him emigrate thither from “Ur (hod. Mughayr) of the Chaldees.” Hence his Arab. title “Ibrahim al-Harrani.” My late friend Dr. Beke had a marvellous theory that this venerable historic Harran was identical with a miserable village to the east of Damascus because the Fellahs call it Harran al-’Awamid—of the Columns—from some Graeco-Roman remnants of a paltry provincial temple. See “Jacob’s Flight,” etc., London, Longmans, 1865.
[FN#235] Pirozah=turquoise, is the Persian, Firuzah and Firuzakh (De Sacy, Chrest. ii. 84) the Arab. forms. The stone is a favourite in the East where, as amongst the Russians (who affect to despise the Eastern origin of their blood to which they owe so much of its peculiar merit), it is supposed to act talisman against wounds and death in battle; and the Persians, who hold it to be a guard against the Evil Eye, are fond of inscribing “turquoise of the old rock” with one or more of the “Holy Names.” Of these talismans a modern Spiritualist asks, “Are rings and charms and amulets magnetic, to use an analogue for what we cannot understand, and has the immemorial belief in the power of relics a natural not to say a scientific basis?”
[FN#236] Samaria is a well-known name amongst Moslems, who call the city Shamrin and Shamrun. It was built, according to Ibn Batrik, upon Mount Samir by Amri who gave it the first name; and the Tarikh Samiri, by Aba al-Fath Abu al-Hasan, is a detailed account of its garbled annals. As Nablus (Neapolis of Herod., also called by him Sebaste) it is now familiar to the Cookite.
[FN#237] In the text Zangi-i-Adam-kh’war afterwards called Habashi=an Abyssinian. Galland simply says un negre. In India the “Habshi” (chief) of Jinjirah (=Al-Jazirah, the Island) was admiral of the Grand Moghul’s fleets. These negroids are still dreaded by Hindus and Hindis and, when we have another “Sepoy Mutiny,” a few thousands of them bought upon the Zanzibar coast, dressed, drilled and officered by Englishmen, will do us yeomans’ service.
[FN#238] This seems to be a fancy name for a country: the term is Persian=the Oceanland or a seaport town: from “Darya” the sea and bar=a region, tract, as in Zanzibar=Black-land. The learned Weil explains it (in loco) by Gegend der Brunnen, brunnengleicher ort, but I cannot accept Scott’s note (iv. 400), “Signifying the seacoast of every country; and hence the term is applied by Oriental geographers to the coast of Malabar.”
[FN#239] The onager, confounded by our older travellers with the zebra, is the Gur-i-khar of Persia, where it is the noblest game from which kings did not disdain to take a cognomen, e.g., Bahram-i-Gur. It is the “wild ass” of Jeremiah (ii. 24: xiv. 6). The meat is famous in poetry for combining the flavours peculiar to all kinds of flesh (Ibn Khallikan iii. 117; iii. 239, etc.) and is noticed by Herodotus (Clio. cxxxiii.) and by Xenophon (Cyro. lib. 1) in sundry passages: the latter describes the relays of horses and hounds which were used in chasing it then as now. The traveller Olearius (A. D. 1637) found it more common than in our present day: Shah Abbas turned thirty-two wild asses into an enclosure where they were shot as an item of entertainment to the ambassadors at his court. The skin of the wild ass’s back produces the famous shagreen, a word seemingly derived from the Pers. “Saghri,” e.g. “Kyafash-i-Saghri"=slippers of shagreen, fine wear fit for a “young Duke”. See in Ibn Khallikan (iv. 245) an account of a “Jur” (the Arabised “Gur”) eight hundred years old.
[FN#240] “Dasht-i-la-siwa-Hu"=a desert wherein is none save He (Allah), a howling wilderness.
[FN#241] Per. “Naz o andaz"=coquetry, in a half-honest sense. The Persian “Kaka Siyah,” i.e. “black brother” (a domestic negro) pronounces Nazi-nuzi.
[FN#242] In the text Nimak-haram: on this subject see vol. viii. 12.
[FN#243] i.e., an Arab of noble strain: see vol. iii. 72.
[FN#244] In the text “Kazzak"=Cossacks, bandits, mounted highwaymen; the word is well known in India, where it is written in two different ways, and the late Mr. John Shakespear in his excellent Dictionary need hardly have marked the origin “U” (unknown).
[FN#245] Here and below the Hindostani version mounts the lady upon a camel ("Ushtur” or “Unth”) which is not customary in India except when criminals are led about the bazar. An elephant would have been in better form.
[FN#246] The Ashrafi (Port. Xerafim) is a gold coin whose value has greatly varied with its date from four shillings upwards. In The (true) Nights we find (passim) that, according to the minting of the VIth Ommiade, ’Abd al-Malik bin Marwan (A.H. 65-86=A.D. 685-703), the coinage of Baghdad consisted of three metals. “Ita quoque peregrina suis nummis nomina posuit, aureum Dinar denarium, argentem Dirhen (lege dirham), Drachma, aereum fols (fuls), follem appellans. * * * Nam Vera moneta aurea nomine follis lignabatur, ut aereorum sub Aarone Raschido cussorum qui hoc nomen servavit.” (O. G. Tychsen p. 8. Introduct. in Rem numariam Muhammedanorum.) For the dinar, daric or miskal see The Nights, vol i. 32; ix. 294; for the dirham, i. 33, ii. 316, etc.; and for the Fals or Fils=a fish scale, a spangle of metal, vol. i. 321. In the debased currency of the Maroccan Empire the Fals of copper or iron, a substantial coin, is worth 2,160 to the French five-franc piece.
[FN#247] In the Hindi, as in Galland’s version, the horse is naturally enough of Turcoman blood. I cannot but think that in India we have unwisely limited ourselves for cavalry remounts to the Western market that exports chiefly the mongrel “Gulf Arab” and have neglected the far hardier animal, especially the Gutdan blood of the Tartar plains, which supply “excellent horses whose speed and bottom are” say travellers in general, “so justly celebrated throughout Asia.” Our predecessors were too wise to “put all the eggs in one basket.”
[FN#248] An act of worship, see my Pilgrimage in which “Tawaf"=circuiting, is described in detail, ii. 38; iii. 2O1 et seqq. A counterpart of this scene is found in the Histoire du Sultan Aqchid (Ikhshid) who determined to witness his own funeral. Gauttier vol. i. pp. 134-139. Another and similar incident occurs in the “Nineteenth Vezir’s Story” (pp. 213-18 of the History of the Forty Vezirs, before alluded to): here Hasan of Basrah, an ’Alim who died in A.H. 110 (=A.D. 728) saw in vision (the “drivel of dreams?”) folk of all conditions, sages, warriors and moon-faced maids seeking, but in vain, to release the sweet soul of the Prince who had perished.
[FN#249] Here, after Moslem fashion, the mother ranks before the wife: “A man can have many wives but only one mother.” The idea is old amongst Easterns: see Herodotus and his Christian commentators on the history of Intaphernes’ wife (Thalia, cap. cxix). “O King,” said that lady of mind logical, “I may get me another mate if God will and other children an I lose these; but as my father and my mother are no longer alive, I may not by any means have another brother,” etc., etc.
[FN#250] In Galland the Histoire de Ganem, fils d’Abu Aioub, surnomme l’esclave d’Amour, precedes Zayn al-Asnam. In the Arab texts Ghanim bin Ayyub, the Thrall o’ Love, occurs much earlier: see The Nights vol. ii. 45.
It is curious to compare the conclusions of these tales with the formula of the latest specimens, the Contes Arabes Modernes of Spitta-Bey, e.g. “And the twain lived together (p. iii.) and had sons and daughters (p. ii.), cohabiting with perfect harmony (fi al-Kamal pp.42, 79); and at last they died and were buried and so endeth the story” (wa khalas p.161).
[FN#251] In Galland and his translators the Adventures of Khudadad and his Brothers is followed by the Histoire du Dormeur Eveille which, as “The Sleeper and the Waker,” is to be found in the first of my Supplemental Volumes, pp. 1-29. After this the learned Frenchman introduced, as has been said, the Histoire de la Lampe merveilleuse or “Alaeddin” to which I have assigned, for reasons given in loco, a place before Khudadad.
[FN#252] i.e. Daddy Abdullah, the former is used in Pers., Turk. and Hindostani for dad! dear! child! and for the latter, see vol. v. 141.
[FN#253] Here the Arab. syn. of the Pers. “Darwaysh,” which Egyptians pronounce “Darwish.” In the Nile-valley the once revered title has been debased to an insult = “poor devil” (see Pigrimage i., pp. 20-22); “Fakir” also has come to signify a Koran-chaunter.
[FN#254] To “Nakh” is to make the camel kneel. See vo!. ii. 139, and its references.
[FN#255] As a sign that he parted willingly with all his possessions.
[FN#256] Arab. “’Ubb” prop.=the bulge between the breast and the outer robe which is girdled round the waist to make a pouch. See vol. viii. 205.
[FN#257] Thirst very justly takes precedence of hunger: a man may fast for forty days, but with out water in a tropical country he would die within a week. For a description of the horrors of thirst see my “First Footsteps in East Africa,” pp. 387-8.
[FN#258] In Galland it is Sidi Nouman; in many English translations, as in the “Lucknow” (Newul Kishore Press, 1880), it has become “Sidi Nonman.” The word has occurred in King Omar bin al-Nu’uman, vol. ii. 77 and 325, and vol. v. 74. For Sidi = my lord, see vol. v. 283; Byron, in The Corsair, ii. 2, seems to mistake it for “Sayyid.”
High
in his hall reclines the turban’d Seyd,
Around—the
bearded chiefs he came to lead.
[FN#259] The Turco-English form of the Persian “Pulao.”
[FN#260] i.e. the secure (fem.). It was the name of the famous concubine of Solomon to whom he entrusted his ring (vol. vi. 84), also of the mother of Mohammed who having taken her son to Al-Medinah (Yathrib) died on the return journey. I cannot understand why the Apostle of Al-Islam, according to his biographers and commentators, refused to pray for his parent’s soul, she having been born in Al-Fitrah (the interval between the fall of Christianity and the birth of Al-Islam), when he had not begun to preach his “dispensation.”
[FN#261] The cane-play: see vol. vi. 263.
[FN#262] Galland has une Goule, i.e., a Ghulah, a she-Ghul, an ogress. But the lady was supping with a male of that species, for which see vols. i. 55; vi. 36.
[FN#263] In the text “Wazifah” prop. = a task, a stipend, a salary, but here = the “Farz” devotions which he considered to be his duty. In Spitta-Bey (loc. cit. p. 218) it is = duty,
[FN#264] For this scene which is one of every day in the East; see Pilgrimage ii. pp. 52-54.
[FN#265] This hate of the friend of man is inherited from Jewish ancestors; and, wherever the Hebrew element prevails, the muzzle, which has lately made its appearance in London, is strictly enforced, as at Trieste. Amongst the many boons which civilisation has conferred upon Cairo I may note hydrophobia; formerly unknown in Egypt the dreadful disease has lately caused more than one death. In India sporadic cases have at rare times occurred in my own knowledge since 1845.
[FN#266] In Galland “Rougeau” = (for Rougeaud?) a red-faced (man), etc., and in the English version “Chance”: “Bakht” = luck, good fortune.
[FN#267] In the text “Sarraf” = a money-changer. See vols. i. 210; iv. 270.
[FN#268] Galland has forgotten this necessary detail: see vol. i. 30 and elsewhere. In Lane’s story of the man metamorphosed to an ass, the old woman, “quickly covering her face, declared the fact.”
[FN#269] In the normal forms of this story, which Galland has told very badly, the maiden would have married the man she saved.
[FN#270] In other similar tales the injured one inflicts such penalty by the express command of his preserver who takes strong measures to ensure obedience.
[FN#271] In the more finished tales of the true “Nights” the mare would have been restored to human shape after giving the best security for good conduct in time to come.
[FN#272] i.e. Master Hasan the Rope-maker. Galland writes, after European fashion, “Hassan,” for which see vol. i. 251; and for “Khwajah” vol. vi. 146. “Al-Habbal” was the cognomen of a learned “Hafiz” (= traditionist and Koran reader), Abu Ishak Ibrahim, in Ibn Khall. ii. 262; for another see iv. 410.
[FN#273] “Sa’d” = prosperity and “Sa’di’ ’= prosperous, the surname of the “Persian moralist,” for whom see my friend F. F. Arbuthnot’s pleasant booklet, “Persian Portraits” (London Quaritch, 1887).
[FN#274] This is true to nature as may be seen any day at Bombay The crows are equally audacious, and are dangerous to men Iying wounded in solitary places.
[FN#275] The Pers. “Gil-i-sar-shui” (=head-washing clay), the Sindi “Met,” and the Arab “Tafl,” a kind of clay much used in Persian, Afghanistan, Sind, etc. Galland turns it into terre a decrasser and his English translators into “scouring sand which women use in baths.” This argillaceous earth mixed with mustard oil is locally used for clay and when rose-leaves and perfumes are used, it makes a tolerable wash-ball. See “Scinde or The Unhappy Valley,” i. 31.
[FN#276] For the “Cowrie” (Cyproea moneta) see vol. iv. 77. The Badam or Bidam (almond) used by way of small change in India, I have noted elsewhere.
[FN#277] Galland has “un morceau de plomb,” which in the Hindi text becomes “Shishahkapaysa” = a (pice) small coin of glass: the translator also terms it a “Faddah,” for which see Nusf (alias “Nuss"), vols. ii. 37, vi. 214 and ix. 139, 167. Glass tokens, by way of coins, were until late years made at Hebron, in Southern Syria.
[FN#278] For the “Tak” or “Takah” = the little wall-niche, see vol. vii. 361.
[FN#279] In the French and English versions the coin is a bit of lead for weighting the net. For the “Paysa” (pice) = two farthings, and in weight = half an ounce, see Herklot’s Glossary, p. xcviii.
[FN#280] In the text “bilisht” = the long span between thumb-tip and minimus-tip. Galland says long plus d’une coudee et gros a proportion.
[FN#281] For the diamond (Arab. “Almas” from {Greek}, and in Hind. “Hira” and “Panna”) see vols. vi. 15, i. ix. 325, and in latter correct, “Euritic,” a misprint for “dioritic.” I still cannot believe diamond-cutting to be an Indian art, and I must hold that it was known to the ancients. It could not have been an unpolished stone, that “Adamas notissimus” which according to Juvenal (vi. 156) Agrippa gave to his sister. Maundeville (A.D. 1322) has a long account of the mineral, “so hard that no man can polish it,” and called Hamese ("Almas?"). For Mr. Petrie and his theory, see vol. ix. 325. In most places where the diamond has been discovered of late years it had been used as a magic stone, e.g., by the Pages or medicine-men of the Brazil, or for children’s playthings, which was the case with the South-African “Caffres.”
[FN#282] These stones, especially the carbuncle, which give out dight in darkness are a commonplace of Eastern folk-lore. For luminous jewels in folk-lore, see Mr. Clouston (i. 412): the belief is not wholly extinct in England, and I have often heard of it in the Brazil and upon the African Gaboon. It appears to me that there may be a basis of fact to tints fancy, the abnormal effect of precious stones upon mesmeric “sensitives.”
[FN#283] The chimney and chimney-piece of Galland are not Eastern: the H. V. uses “Bukhari” = a place for steaming.
[FN#284] i.e. “Rachel.”
[FN#285] In the text “lakh,” the Anglicised “lac” = 100,000.
[FN#286] This use of camphor is noted by Gibbon (D. and F. iii. 195).
[FN#287] “Ab o hawa” = climate: see vol. ii. 4.
[FN#288] Galland makes this article a linen cloth wrapped about the skull-cap or core of the turban.
[FN#289] Mr. Coote ( loc. cit. p. 185) is unable to produce a puramythe containing all of “Ali B ba;” but, for the two leading incidents he quotes from Prof. Sakellarios two tales collected in Cyprus One is Morgiana marking the village doors (p. 187), which has occurred doubtless a hundred times. The other, in the “Story of Drakos,” is an ogre, hight “Three Eyes,” who attempts the rescue of his wife with a party of blackamoors packed in bales and these are all discovered and slain.
[FN#290] Dans la fort, says Galland.
[FN#291] Or “Samsam,” The grain = Sesamum Orientale: hence the French, Sesame, ouvre-toi! The term is cabalistical, like S£lem, S£lam or Sh£lam in the Directorium Vit Human of Johannes di Capu: Inquit vir: Ibam in nocte plenilunii et ascendebam super domum ubi furari intendebam, et accedens ad fenestram ubi radii lune ingrediebantur, et dicebam hanc coniurationem, scilicet sulem sulem, septies, deinde amplectebar lumen lune et sine lesione descendebam ad domum, etc. (pp. 24-25) par Joseph Derenbourg, Membre de l’Institut 1re Fascicule, Paris, F. Vieweg, 67, Rue de Richelieu, 1887.
[FN#292] In the text “Jath ni” = the wife of an elder brother. Hindostani, like other Eastern languages, is rich in terms for kinship whereof English is so exceptionally poor. Mr. Francis Galtson, in his well-known work, “Hereditary Genius,” a misnomer by the by for “HeredTalent,” felt this want severely and was at pains to supply it.
[FN#293]In the text “Thag,” our English “Thug,” often pronounced moreover by the Briton with the sibilant “th.” It means simply a cheat: you say to your servant “T£ bar Thag hai” = thou art a precious rascal; but it has also the secondary meaning of robber, assassin, and the tertiary of Bhaw ni-worshippers who offer indiscriminate human sacrifices to the Dess of Destruction. The word and the thing have been made popular in England through the “Confessions of a Thug” by my late friend Meadows Taylor; and I may record my conviction that were the English driven out of India, “Thuggee,” like piracy in Cutch and in the Persian Gulf, would revive at the shortest possible time.
[FN#294] i.e. the Civil Governor, who would want nothing better.
[FN#295]This is in Galland and it is followed by the H. V.; but it would be more natural to suppose that of the quarters two were hung up outside the door and the others within. Vol. XIII
[FN#296] I am unwilling to alter the time honoured corruption: properly it is written Marjanah = the “Coralline,” from Marjan = red coral, for which see vols. ii. 100; vii. 373.
[FN#297] i.e. the " ’Iddah.” during which she could not marry. See vol. iii. 292.
[FN#298] In Galland he is a savetier * * * naturellement gai, et qui avait toujours le mot pour rire: the H. V. naturally changed him to a tailor as the Ch m r or leather-worker would be inadmissible to polite conversation.
[FN#299] i.e. a leader of prayer; the Pers. “P¡sh-nam z” = fore-prayer, see vols. ii. 203; iv. 111 and 227. Galland has “¡m n,” which can mean only faith, belief, and in this blunder he is conscientiously followed by his translators—servum pecus
[FN#300] Galland nails down the corpse in the bier—a Christian practice—and he certainly knew better. Moreover, prayers for the dead are mostly recited over the bier when placed upon the brink of the grave; nor is it usual for a woman to play so prominent a part in the ceremony.
[FN#301] See vols. v. 111; ix. 163 and x. 47.
[FN#302] Galland is less merciful, “Aussitot le conducteur fut dclar digne de mort tout d’une voix, et il s’y condamna lui-mme,” etc. The criminal, indeed, condemns himself and firmly offers his neck to be stricken.
[FN#303] In the text “Lauh,” for which see vol. v. 73.
[FN#304] In Arab. “Kama” = he rose, which, in vulgar speech especially in Egypt, = he began. So in Spitta-Bey’s “Contes Arabes Modernes” (p. 124) “K mat al-Sibhah dh kat fi yad akh¡-h” = the chaplet began (lit. arose) to wax tight in his brother’s hand. This sense is shadowed forth in classical Arabic.
[FN#305] So in old Arabian history “Kas¡r” (the Little One), the Arab Zopyrus, stows away in huge camel-bags the 2,000 warriors intended to surprise masterful Queen Zebba. Chronique de Tabar¡, vol. ii., 26. Also the armed men in boxes by which Shamar, King of Al-Yaman, took Shamar-kand = Shamar’s-town, now Samarkand. (Ibid. ii. 158.)
[FN#306] i.e. for a walk, a “constitutional”: the phrase is very common in Egypt, and has occurred before.
[FN#307] These visions are frequent in Al-Islam; see Pilgrimage iii. 254-55. Of course Christians are not subject to them, as Moslems also are never favoured with glimpses of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints; the best proof of their “Subjectivity.”
[FN#308] For this word see De Sacy, Chrest. ii. 421. It has already occurred in The Nights, vol. iii. 295.
[FN#309] Not a few pilgrims settle for a time or for life in the two Holy Places, which are thus kept supplied with fresh blood. See Pilgrimage ii. 260.
[FN#310] i.e. Bayt al-Mukaddas, for which see vol. ii. 132.
[FN#311] An affidavit amongst Moslems is “litis decisio,” as in the jurisprudence of mediaeval Europe.
[FN#312] In Arab folk-lore there are many instances of such precocious boys—enfants terribles they must be in real life. In Ibn Khall. (iii. 104) we find notices of a book “Kitab Nujaba al-Abna” = Treatise on Distinguished Children, by Ibn Zakar al-Sakalli (the Sicilian), ob. A. D. 1169-70. And the boy-Kazi is a favourite role in the plays of peasant-lads who enjoy the irreverent “chaff” almost as much as when “making a Pasha.” This reminds us of the boys electing Cyrus as their King in sport (Herodotus, i. 114). For the cycle of “Precocious Children” and their adventures, see Mr. Clouston (Popular Tales, etc., ii. 1- 14), who enters into the pedigree and affiliation. I must, however, differ with that able writer when he remarks at the end, “And now we may regard the story of Valerius Maximus with suspicion, and that of Lloyd as absolutely untrue, so far as William Noy’s alleged share in the ‘case.’ " The jest or the event happening again and again is no valid proof of its untruth; and it is often harder to believe in derivation than in spontaneous growth.
[FN#313] In Galland Ali Cogia, Marchand de Bagdad, is directly followed by the Histoire du Cheval Enchante. For this “Ebony Horse,” as I have called it, see vol. v. p. 32.
[FN#314] “Banu” = a lady, a dame of high degree generally, e.g. the (Shah’s) Banu-i-Harem in James Morier ("The Mirza,” iii. 50), who rightly renders Pari Banu = Pari of the first quality. “Peri” (Pari) in its modern form has a superficial resemblance to “Fairy;” but this disappears in the “Pairika” of the Avesta and the “Pairik” of the modern Parsee. In one language only, the Multani, there is a masculine form for the word “Para” = a he-fairy (Scinde, ii. 203). In Al-Islam these
[FN#315] Light of the Day.
[FN#316] Galland has “Bisnagar,” which the H. V. corrupts to Bishan-Garh = Vishnu’s Fort, an utter misnomer. Bisnagar, like Bijnagar, Beejanuggur, Vizianuggur, etc., is a Prakrit corruption of the Sanskrit Vijayanagara = City of Victory, the far-famed Hindu city and capital of the Narasingha or Lord of Southern India, mentioned in The Nights, vols. vi. 18; ix. 84. Nicolo de’ Conti in the xvth century found it a magnificent seat of Empire some fifteen marches south of the pestilential mountains which contained the diamond mines. Accounts of its renown and condition in the last generation have been given by James Grant ("Remarks on the Dekkan”) and by Captain Moore ("Operations of Little’s Detachment against Tippoo Sultan"). The latest description of it is in “The Indian Empire,” by Sir William W. Hunter. Vijayanagar, village in Bellary district, Madras, lat. 15 degrees 18’ N., long. 76 degrees 30’ E., pop. (1871), 437, inhabiting 172 houses. The proper name of this village is Hampi, but Vijayanagar was the name of the dynasty (?) and of the kingdom which had its capital here and was the last great Hindu power of the South. Founded by two adventurers in the middle of the xivth century, it lasted for two centuries till its star went down at Talikot in A. D. 1565. For a description of the ruins of the old city of Vijayanagar, which covers a total area of nine square miles, see “Murray’s Handbook for Madras,” by E. B. Eastwick (1879), vol. ix. p. 235. Authentic history in Southern India begins with the Hindu kingdom of Vijayanagar, or Narsinha, from A. D. 1118 to 1565. The capital can still be traced within the Madras district of Bellary, on the right bank of the Tungabhadra river—vast ruins of temples, fortifications, tanks and bridges, haunted by hyaenas and snakes. For at least three centuries Vijayanagar ruled over the southern part of the Indian triangle. Its Rajas waged war and made peace on equal terms with the Mohamadan sultans of the Deccan. See vol. iv. p. 335, Sir W. W. Hunter’s “Imperial Gazetteer of India,” Edit. 1881.
[FN#317] The writer means the great Bazar, the Indian “Chauk,” which = our English Carfax or Carfex (Carrefour) and forms the core of ancient cities in the East. It is in some places, as Damascus, large as one of the quarters, and the narrow streets or lanes, vaulted over or thatched, are all closed at night by heavy doors well guarded by men and dogs. Trades are still localised, each owning its own street, after the fashion of older England, where we read of Drapers’ Lane and Butchers’ Row; Lombard Street, Cheapside and Old Jewry.
[FN#318] The local name of the Patna ganzes. The term was originally applied to the produce of the Coan looms, which, however, was anticipated in ancient Egypt. See p. 287 of “L’Archeologie Egyptienne” (Paris, A. Quantin) of the learned Professor G. Maspero, a most able popular work by a savant who has left many regrets on the banks of Nilus.
[FN#319] The great prototype of the Flying Carpet is that of Sulayman bin Daud, a fable which the Koran (chap. xxi. 81) borrowed from the Talmud, not from “Indian fictions.” It was of green sendal embroidered with gold and silver and studded with precious stones, and its length and breadth were such that all the Wise King’s host could stand upon it, the men to the left and the Jinns to the right of the throne; and when all were ordered, the Wind, at royal command, raised it and wafted it whither the Prophet would, while an army of birds flying overhead canopied the host from the sun. In the Middle Ages the legend assumed another form. “Duke Richard, surnamed ‘Richard sans peur,’ walking with his courtiers one evening in the forest of Moulineaux, near one of his castles on the banks of the Seine, hearing a prodigious noise coming towards him, sent one of his esquires to know what was the matter, who brought him word that it was a company of people under a leader or King. Richard, with five hundred of his bravest Normans, went out to see a sight which the peasants were so accustomed to that they viewed it two or three times a week without fear. The sight of the troop, preceded by two men, who spread a cloth on the ground, made all the Normans run away, and leave the Duke alone. He saw the strangers form themselves into a circle on the cloth, and on asking who they were, was told that they were the spirits of Charles V., King of France, and his servants, condemned to expiate their sins by fighting all night against the wicked and the damned. Richard desired to be of their party, and receiving a strict charge not to quit the cloth, was conveyed with them to Mount Sinai, where, leaving them without quitting the cloth, he said his prayers in the Church of St. Catherine’s Abbey there, while they were fighting, and returned with them. In proof of the truth of this story, he brought back half the wedding-ring of a knight in that convent, whose wife, after six years, concluded him dead, and was going to take a second husband.” (Note in the Lucknow Edition of The Nights.)
[FN#320] Amongst Eastern peoples, and especially adepts, the will of man is not a mere term for a mental or cerebral operation, it takes the rank of a substance; it becomes a mighty motive power, like table-turning and other such phenomena which, now looked upon as child’s play, will perform a prime part in the Kinetics of the century to come. If a few pair of hands imposed upon a heavy dinner-table can raise it in the air, as I have often seen, what must we expect to result when the new motive force shall find its Franklin and be shown to the world as real “Vril”? The experiment of silently willing a subject to act in a manner not suggested by speech or sign has been repeatedly tried and succeeded in London drawing-rooms; and it has lately been suggested that atrocious crimes have resulted from overpowering volition. In cases of paralysis the Faculty is agreed upon the fact that local symptoms disappear when the will-power returns to the brain. And here I will boldly and baldly state my theory that, in sundry cases, spectral appearances (ghosts) and abnormal smells and sounds are simply the effect of a Will which has, so to speak, created them.
[FN#321] The text has “But-Khanah” = idol-house (or room) syn. with “But-Kadah” = image-cuddy, which has been proposed as the derivation of the disputed “Pagoda.” The word “Khanah” also appears in our balcony, origin. “balcony,” through the South-European tongues, the Persian being “Bala-khanah” = high room. From “Kadah” also we derive “cuddy,” now confined to nautical language.
[FN#322] Europe contains sundry pictures which have, or are supposed to have, this property; witness the famous Sundarium bearing the head of Jesus. The trick, for it is not Art, is highly admired by the credulous.
[FN#323] i.e. the Hindu Scripture or Holy Writ, e.g. “Kama-Shastra” = the Cupid-gospel.
[FN#324] This shifting theatre is evidently borrowed by Galland from Pliny (N. H. xxxvi., 24) who tells that in B. C. 50, C. Curio built two large wooden theatres which could be wheeled round and formed into an amphitheatre. The simple device seems to stir the bile of the unmechanical old Roman, so unlike the Greek in powers of invention.
[FN#325] This trick is now common in the circuses and hippodromes of Europe, horses and bulls being easily taught to perform it: but India has as yet not produced anything equal to the “Cyclist elephant” of Paris.
[FN#326] This Arab.-Pers. compound, which we have corrupted to “Bezestein” or “Bezettein” and “Bezesten,” properly means a market-place for Baz or Bazz = cloth, fine linen; but is used by many writers as = Bazar, see “Kaysariah,” vol. i. 266.
[FN#327] The origin of the lens and its applied use to the telescope and the microscope are “lost” (as the Castle-guides of Edinburgh say) “in the glooms of antiquity.” Well ground glasses have been discovered amongst the finds of Egypt and Assyria: indeed much of the finer work of the primeval artists could not have been done without such aid. In Europe the “spy-glass” appears first in the Opus Majus of the learned Roger Bacon (circa A. D. 1270); and his “optic tube” (whence his saying “all things are known by perspective"), chiefly contributed to make his wide-spread fame as a wizard. The telescope was popularised by Galileo who (as mostly happens) carried off and still keeps, amongst the vulgar, all the honours of invention. Some “Illustrators” of The Nights confound this “Nazzarah,” the Pers. “Dur-bin,” or far-seer, with the “Magic Mirror,” a speculum which according to Gower was set up in Rome by Virgilius the Magician hence the Mirror of Glass in the Squire’s tale; Merlin’s glassie Mirror of Spenser (F. Q. ii. 24); the mirror in the head of the monstrous fowl which forecast the Spanish invasion to the Mexicans; the glass which in the hands of Cornelius Agrippa (A. D. 1520) showed to the Earl of Surrey fair Geraldine “sick in her bed;” to the globe of glass in The Lusiads; Dr. Dee’s show-stone, a bit of cannel-coal; and lastly the zinc and copper disk of the absurdly called “electro-biologist.” I have noticed this matter at some length in various places.
[FN#328] D’Herbelot renders Soghd Samarkand = plain of Samarkand. Hence the old “Sogdiana,” the famed and classical capital of Mawarannahr, our modern Transoxiana, now known as Samarkand. The Hindi translator has turned “Soghd” into “Sada” and gravely notes that “the village appertained to Arabia.” He possibly had a dim remembrance of the popular legend which derives “Samarkand” from Shamir or Samar bin Afrikus, the Tobba King of Al-Yaman, who lay waste Soghd-city ("Shamir kand” = Shamir destroyed); and when rebuilt the place was called by the Arab. corruption Samarkand. See Ibn Khallikan ii. 480. Ibn Haukal (Kitab al Mamalik wa al-Masalik = Book of Realms and Routes), whose Oriental Geography (xth century) was translated by Sir W. Ouseley (London, Oriental Press, 1800), followed by Abu ’l-Fida, mentions the Himyaritic inscription upon an iron plate over the Kash portal of Samarkand (Appendix No. iii.).
[FN#329] The wish might have been highly indiscreet and have exposed the wisher to the resentment of the two other brothers. In parts of Europe it is still the belief of the vulgar that men who use telescopes can see even with the naked eye objects which are better kept hidden; and I have heard of troubles in the South of France because the villagers would not suffer the secret charms of their women to become as it were the public property of the lighthouse employes.
[FN#330] “Jam-i-Jamshid” is a well worn commonplace in Moslem folk-lore; but commentators cannnot agree whether “Jam” be = a mirror or a cup. In the latter sense it would represent the Cyathomantic cup of the Patriarch Joseph and the symbolic bowl of Nestor. Jamshid may be translated either Jam the Bright or the Cup of the Sun: this ancient King is Solomon of the grand old Guebres.
[FN#331] This passage may have suggested to Walter Scott one of his descriptions in “The Monastery.”
[FN#332] In the text “Lajawardi,” for which see vols. iii. 33, and ix. 190.
[FN#333] In Galland and the H. V. “Prince Husayn’s.”
[FN#334] This is the “Gandharba-lagana” (fairy wedding) of the Hindus; a marriage which lacked only the normal ceremonies. For the Gandharbas = heavenly choristers see Moor’s “Hindu Pantheon,” p. 237, etc.
[FN#335] “Perfumed with amber” (-gris?) says Galland.
[FN#336] The Hind term for the royal levee, as “Selam” is the Persian.
[FN#337] Arab. “’Ilm al-Ghayb” = the Science of Hidden Things which, says the Hadis, belongeth only to the Lord. Yet amongst Moslems, as with other faiths, the instinctive longing to pry into the Future has produced a host of pseudo-sciences, Geomancy, Astrology, Prophecy and others which serve only to prove that such knowledge, in the present condition of human nature, is absolutely unattainable.
[FN#338] In folk-lore and fairy tales the youngest son of mostly three brothers is generally Fortune’s favourite: at times also he is the fool or the unlucky one of the family, Cinderella being his counterpart (Mr. Clouston, i. 321).
[FN#339] The parasang (Gr. {Greek}), which Ibn Khall. (iii. 315) reduces to three miles, has been derived wildly enough from Fars or Pars (Persia proper) sang = (mile) stone. Chardin supports the etymology, “because leagues are marked out with great tall stones in the East as well as the West, e.g., ad primam (vel secundam) lapidem.”
[FN#340] A huge marquee or pavilion-tent in India.
[FN#341] The Jinn feminine; see vol. i. 10. The word hardly corresponds with the Pers. “Peri” and Engl. “Fairy,” a creation, like the “Div,” of the so-called “Aryan,” not “Semitic,” race.
[FN#342] Galland makes the Fairy most unjustifiably fear that her husband is meditating the murder of his father; and the Hindi in this point has much the advantage of the Frenchman.
[FN#343] Pers. = “Light of the World”; familiar to Europe as the name of the Grand Moghul Jehangir’s principal wife.
[FN#344] The Arab stirrup, like that of the Argentine Gaucho, was originally made of wood, liable to break, and forming a frail support for lancer and sworder. A famous chief and warrior, Abu Sa’id al-Muhallab (ob. A. H. 83 = 702) first gave orders to forge foot-rests of iron.
[FN#345] For this Egyptian and Syrian weapon see vol. i. 234.
[FN#346] See vol. vii. 93, where an error of punctuation confounds it with Kerbela,—a desert with a place of pilgrimage. “Samawah” in Ibn Khall. (vol. i. 108) is also the name of a town on the Euphrates.
[FN#347] Nazaranah prop. = the gift (or gifts) offered at visits by a Moslem noble or feoffee in India to his feudal superior; and the Kalichah of Hindu, Malabar, Goa and the Blue Mountains (p. 197). Hence the periodical tributes and especially the presents which represent our “legacy-duty” and the “succession-duty” for Rajahs and Nabobs, the latter so highly lauded by “The Times,” as the logical converse of the Corn-laws which ruined our corn. The Nazaranah can always be made a permanent and a considerable source of revenue, far more important than such unpopular and un-Oriental device as an income-tax. But our financiers have yet to learn the A. B. C. of political economy in matters of assessment, which is to work upon familiar lines; and they especially who, like Mr. Wilson “mad as a hatter,” hold and hold forth that “what is good for England is good for the world.” These myopics decide on theoretical and sentimental grounds that a poll-tax is bad in principle, which it may be, still public opinion sanctions it and it can be increased without exciting discontent. The same with the “Nazaranah;” it has been the custom of ages immemorial, and a little more or a little less does not affect its popularity.
[FN#348] Pers. = City-queen.
[FN#349] Compare with this tale its modern and popular version Histoire du Rossignol Chanteur (Spitta-Bey, No. x, p. 123): it contains the rosary (and the ring) that shrinks, the ball that rolls and the water that heals; etc. etc. Mr. Clouston somewhere asserts that the History of the Envious Sisters, like that of Prince Ahmad and the Peri-Banu, are taken from a Ms. still preserved in the “King’s Library,” Paris; but he cannot quote his authority, De Sacy or Langles. Mr. H. C. Coote (loc. Cit. P. 189) declares it to be, and to have been, “an enormous favourite in Italy and Sicily: no folk-tale exists in those countries at all comparable to it in the number of its versions and in the extent of its distribution.” He begins two centuries before Galland, sith Straparola (Notti Piacevoli), proceeds to Imbriani (Novajella Fiorentina), Nerucci (Novelle Montalesi), Comparetti (Nivelline Italiane) and Pitre (Fiabe Novelle e Racconti popolari Italiani, vol. I.); and informs us that “the adventures of the young girl, independently of the joint history of herself and her brother, are also told in a separate “Fiaba” in Italy. A tale called La Favenilla Coraggiosa is given by Visentini in his Fiabe Mantovane and it is as far as it is a counterpart of the second portion of Galland’s tale.” Mr. Coote also finds this story in Hahn’s “Griechische Mrchen” entitled “Sun, Moon and Morning Star”—the names of the royal children. The King overhears the talk of three girls and marries the youngest despite his stepmother, who substitutes for her issue a puppy, a kitten and a mouse. The castaways are adopted by a herdsman whilst the mother is confined in a henhouse; and the King sees
[FN#350] Pop. “Ghaut” = The steps (or path) which lead down to a watering-place. Hence the Hindi saying concerning the “rolling stone”—Dhobi-ka kutta; na Gharka na Ghat-ka, = a washerwoman’s tyke, nor of the house nor of the Ghat-dyke.
[FN#351] Text “Khatibah” more usually “Khutbah” = the Friday sermon preached by the Khatib: in this the reigning sovereign is prayed for by name and his mention together with the change of coinage is the proof of his lawful rule. See Lane, M. F., chap. iii.
[FN#352] This form of eaves-dropping, in which also the listener rarely hears any good of himself is, I need hardly now say, a favourite incident of Eastern Storiology and even of history, e.g. Three men met together; one of them expressed the wish to obtain a thousand pieces of gold, so that he might trade with them; the other wished for an appointment under the Emir of the Moslems; the third wished to possess Yusuf’s wife, who was the handsomest of women and had reat political influence. Yusuf, being informed of what they said, sent for the men, bestowed one thousand dinars on him who wished for that sum, gave an appointment to the other and said to him who wished to possess the lady: “Foolish man! What induced you to wish for that which you can never obtain?” He then sent him to her and she placed him in a tent where he remained three days, receiving, each day, one and the same kind of food. She had him brought to her and said, “What did you eat these days past?” He replied: “Always the same thing!”—“Well,” said she, “all women are the same thing.” She then ordered some money and a dress to be given him, after which, she dismissed him. (Ibn Khallikan iii. 463-64.)
[FN#353] This ruthless attempt at infanticide was in accordance with the manners of the age nor has it yet disappeared from Rajput-land, China and sundry over-populous countries. Indeed it is a question if civilisation may not be compelled to revive the law of Lycurgus which forbade a child, male or female, to be brought up without the approbation of public officers appointed ad hoc. One of the curses of the XIXth century is the increased skill of the midwife and physician, who are now able to preserve worthless lives and to bring up semi-abortions whose only effect upon the breed is increased degeneracy. Amongst the Greeks and ancient Arabs the Malthusian practice was carried to excess. Poseidippus declares that in his day—
A
man, although poor, will not expose his son;
But
however rich, will not preserve his daughter.
See the commentators’ descriptions of the Wa’d al-Banat or burial of Mauudat (living daughters), the barbarous custom of the pagan Arabs (Koran, chaps. Xvi. And lxxxi.) one of the many abominations, like the murderous vow of Jephtha, to which Al-Islam put a summary stop. (Ibn Khallikan, iii. 609-606) For such outcast children reported to be monsters, see pp. 402-412 of Mr. Clouston’s “Asiatic and European versions of four of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales,” printed by the Chaucer Society.
[FN#354] Hind. Chhuchhundar (Sorex coerulescens) which occurs repeatedly in verse; e.g., when speaking of low men advanced to high degree, the people say:—
Chhuchhundar-ke
sir-par Chambeli-ka tel.
The
Jasmine-oil on the musk-rat’s head.
In Galland the Sultanah is brought to bed of un morceau de bois; and his Indian translator is more consequent, Hahn, as has been seen, also has the mouse but Hahn could hardly have reached Hindostan.
[FN#355] This title of Shahinshah was first assumed by Ardashir, the great Persian conqueror, after slaying the King of Ispahan, Ardawan. (Tabari ii. 73.)
[FN#356] This imprisonment of the good Queen reminds home readers of the “Cage of Clapham” wherein a woman with child was imprisoned in A.D. 1700, and which was noted by Sir George Grove as still in existence about 1830.
[FN#357] Arab. Ayyam al-Nifas = the period of forty days after labour during which, according to Moslem law, a woman may not cohabit with her husband.
[FN#358] A clarum et venerabile nomen in Persia; meaning one of the Spirits that preside over beasts of burden; also a king in general, the P.N. of an ancient sovereign, etc.
[FN#359] This is the older pronunciation of the mod. (Khusrau) “Parviz”; and I owe an apology to Mr. C.J. Lyall (Ancient Arabian Poetry) for terming his “Khusrau Parvez” an “ugly Indianism” (The Academy, No. 100). As he says (Ibid. vol. x. 85), “the Indians did not invent for Persian words the sounds e and o, called majhul (i.e. ‘not known in Arabic’) by the Arabs, but received them at a time when these wounds were universally used in Persia. The substitution by Persians of i and u for e and o is quite modern.”
[FN#360] i.e. Fairy-born, the {Greek} (Parysatis) of the Greeks which some miswrite {Greek}.
[FN#361] In Arab. Usually shortened to “Hazar” (bird of a thousand tales = the Thousand), generally called “’Andalib:” Galland has Bulbulhezer and some of his translators debase it to Bulbulkezer. See vol. v. 148, and the Hazar-dastan of Kazwini (De Sacy, Chrest. iii. 413). These rarities represent the Rukh’s egg in “Alaeddin.”
[FN#362] These disembodied “voices” speaking either naturally or through instruments are a recognized phenomenon of the so-called “Spiritualism,” See p. 115 of “Supra-mundane Facts,” &c., edited by T.J. Nichols, M.D., &c., London, Pitman, 1865. I venture to remark that the medical treatment by Mesmerism, Braidism and hypnotics, which was violently denounced and derided in 1850, is in 1887 becoming a part of the regular professional practice and forms another item in the long list of the Fallacies of the Faculty and the Myopism of the “Scientist.”
[FN#363] I may also note that the “Hatif,” or invisible Speaker, which must be subjective more often than objective, is a common-place of Moslem thaumaturgy.
[FN#364] It may have been borrowed from Ulysses and the Sirens.
[FN#365] Two heroes of the Shahnameh and both the types of reckless daring. The monomachy or duel between these braves lasted through two days.
[FN#366] The “Bagh” or royal tiger, is still found in the jungles of Mazenderan and other regions of Northern Persia.
[FN#367] In addressing the Shah every Persian begins with the formula “Kurban-at basham” = may I become thy Corban or sacrifice. For this word (Kurban) see vol. viii. 16.
[FN#368] The King in Persia always speaks of himself in the third person and swears by his own blood and head, soul, life and death. The form of oath is ancient: Joseph, the first (but not the last) Jew-financier of Egypt, emphasises his speech “by the life of Pharaoh.” (Gen. xiii. 15, 16.)
[FN#369] Another title of the Shah, making him quasi-divine, at any rate the nearest to the Almighty, like the Czar and the Emperor of China. Hence the subjects bow to him with the body at right angles as David did to Saul (I Sam. xxiv, 8) or fall upon the face like Joshua (v. 14).
[FN#370] A most improbable and absurd detail: its sole excuse is the popular superstition of “blood speaking to blood.” The youths being of the royal race felt that they could take unwarrantable liberties.
[FN#371] This is still a Persian custom because all the subjects, women as well as men, are virtually the King’s slaves.
[FN#372] i.e. King of kings, the {Greek}.
[FN#373] Majlis garm karna, i.e. to give some life to the company.
[FN#374] In Arabic “’Ilm al-Mukashafah” = the science by which Eastern adepts discover man’s secret thoughts. Of late years it has appeared in England but with the same quackery and imposture which have ruined “Spiritualism” as the Faith of the Future.
[FN#375] Nor are those which do occur all in the same order: The first in the Turkish book “Of ’Ebu-’l-Kasim of Basra, of the ’Emir of Basra, and of ’Ebu-’l-Faskh of Wasit,” is probably similar to the first of Petis, “History of Aboulcasem of Basra.” The second “Of Fadzlu- ’llah of Mawsil (Moser), of ’Ebu-’l-Hasan, and of Mahyar of Wasit,” is evidently the seventh
[FN#376] A translation of this version, omitting the moral reflections interspersed, is given by Professor E. B. Cowell in the “Journal of Philology,” 1876, vol. vi. p. 193. The great Persian mystic tells another story of a Dream of Riches, which, though only remotely allied to our tale, is very curious:
The Fakir and the Hidden Treasure.
Notwithstanding the clear evidence of God’s bounty, engendering those spiritual tastes in men, philosophers and learned men, wise in their own conceit, obstinately shut their eyes to it, and look afar off for what is really close to them, so that they incur the penalty of being “branded on the nostrils” [Kuran, lxviii. 16], adjudged against unbelievers. This is illustrated by the story of the poor Fakir who prayed to God that he might be fed without being obliged to work for his food. A divine voice came to him in his sleep and directed him to go to the house of a certain scribe and take a certain writing he should find there. He did so, and on reading the writing found that it contained directions for discovering a hidden treasure. The directions were as follows: “Go outside the city to the dome which covers the tomb of the martyr, turn your back to the tomb and face towards Mecca, place an arrow in your bow, and where the arrow falls dig for the treasure.” But before the Fakir had time to commence the search the rumour of the writing and its purport had reached the King, who
[FN#377] See Mr. Gibb’s translation (London: Redway), p. 278
[FN#378] “Rem quae contigit patrum memoria ut veram ita dignam relatu et saepenumero mihi assertam ab hominibus fide dignis apponam.”
[FN#379] Thorpe says that a nearly similar legend is current at Tanslet, on the island of Alsen.
[FN#380] The common tradition is, it was in English rhyme, viz.
“Where
this stood
Is
another as good;”
or, as some will have it:
“Under
me doth lie
Another
much richer than I.”
[FN#381] Apropos to dreams, there is a very amusing story, entitled “Which was the Dream ?” in Mr. F. H. Balfour’s “Leaves from my Chinese Scrap Book,” p. 106-7 (London: Trubner, 1887).
[FN#382] The story in the Turkish collection, “Al-Faraj ba’d al-Shiddah,” where it forms the 8th recital, is doubtless identical with our Arabian version, since in both the King of the Genie figures, which is not the case in Mr. Gibb’s story.
[FN#383] Although this version is not preceded, as in the Arabian, by the Dream of Riches, yet that incident occurs, I understand, in separate form in the work of ’Ali Aziz.
[FN#384] Sir Richard has referred, in note 1, p. 18, to numerous different magical tests of chastity, etc., and I may here add one more, to wit, the cup which Oberon, King of the Fairies, gave to Duke Huon of Bordeaux (according to the romance which recounts the marvellous adventures of that renowned Knight), which filled with wine in the hand of any man who was out of “deadly sin” and attempted to drink out of it, but was always empty in the hands of a sinful man. Charlemagne was shown to be sinful by this test, while Duke Huon, his wife, and a companion were proved to be free from sin.—In my “Popular Tales and Fictions” the subject of inexhaustible purses etc. is treated pretty fully—they frequently figure in folk-tales, from Iceland to Ceylon, from Japan to the Hebrides.
[FN#385] “The Athenaeum,” April 23,1887, p. 542.
[FN#386] See M. Eugene Leveque’s “Les Mythes et les Legendes de l’Inde et la Perse” (Paris, 1880), p. 543, where the two are printed side by side. This was pointed out more than seventy years ago by Henry Weber in his Introduction to “Tales of the East,” edited by him.
[FN#387] Also in the romance of Duke Huon of Bordeaux and the old French romance of the Chevalier Berinus. The myth was widely spread in the Middle Ages.
[FN#388] Cf. the magic horn that Duke Huon of Bordeaux received from Oberon, King of the Fairies, which caused even the Soudan of Babylon to caper about in spite of himself, and similar musical instruments in a hundred different tales, such as the old English poem of “The Friar and the Boy,” the German tale (in Grimm) of “The Jew among Thorns,” the “Pied Piper of Hamelin,” &c.
[FN#389] Not distantly related to stories of this class are those in which the hero becomes possessed of some all-bestowing object—a purse, a box, a table-cloth, a sheep, a donkey, etc.— which being stolen from him he recovers by means of a magic club that on being commended rattles on the pate and ribs of the thief and compels him to restore the treasure.
[FN#390] The Dwarf had told the soldier, on leaving him after killing the old witch, that should his services be at any other time required, he had only to light his pipe at the Blue Light and he should instantly appear before him. The tobacco-pipe must be considered as a recent and quite unnecessary addition to the legend: evidently all the power of summoning the Dwarf was in the Blue Light, since he tells the soldier when he first appears before him in the well that he must obey its lord and master.
[FN#391] Belli signifies famous, or notorious.
[FN#392] This young lady’s notion of the “function” of Prayer was, to say the least peculiar, in thus addressing her petition to the earth instead of to Heaven.
[FN#393] The gentle, amiable creature!
[FN#394] Chamley-bill was, says Dr. Chodzko, a fort built by Kurroglu, the ruins of which are still to be seen in the valley of Salmas, a district in the province of Aderbaijan.
[FN#395] i.e. Kuvera, the god of wealth.
[FN#396] The attendants of Kuvera. a Buddhistic idea.
[FN#397] That every man has his “genius” of good or evil fortune is, I think, essentially idea.
[FN#398] Such being the case, what need was there for the apparition presenting itself every morning?—but no matter!
[FN#399] Pandit S. M. Natesa Sastri, in “Indian Notes and Queries,” for March, 1887, says that women swallow large numbers of an insect called pillai-puchchi (son-insect: gryllas) in the hope of bearing sons, they will also drink the water squeezed from the loin-cloth of a sanyasi [devotee] after washing it for him!—Another correspondent in the same periodical. Pandit Putlibai K. Raghunathje, writes that Hindu women, for the purpose of having children, especially a son, observe the fourth lunar day of every dark fortnight as a fast and break their fast only after seeing the moon, generally before 9 or 10 p.m. A dish of twenty-one small, marble-like balls of rice is prepared, in one of which is put some salt. The whole dish is then served up to the woman, and while eating it she should first lay her hands on the ball containing salt, as it is believed to be a positive sign that she will be blessed with a son. In that case she should give up eating the rest, but otherwise she should go on eating till she lays her hands on the salted ball. The Pandit adds, that the observance of this ball depends on the wish of the woman. She may observe it on only one, five, seven, eleven, or twenty-one lunar fourth days, or chaturthi. Should she altogether fail in picking out the salted ball first, she may be sure of remaining barren all her life long.
[FN#400] I am glad to see among Messrs. Trubner & Co.’s announcements of forthcoming publications Mr. Knowles’ collection of “Folk-Tales of Kashmir” in popular handy volume form.
[FN#401] A holy man whose austerities have obtained for him supernatural powers.
[FN#402] Also called “Story of the King and his Four Ministers.” There is another but wholly different Tamil romance entitled the “Alakesa Katha,” in which a king’s daughter becomes a disembodied evil spirit, haunting during the night a particular choultry (or serai) for travellers, and if they do not answer aright to her cries she strangles them and vampyre-like sucks their blood.
[FN#403] The Pandit informs me that his “Folk-Lore in Southern India” will be completed at press and issued shortly at Bombay. (London agents, Messrs. Trubner & Co.)
[FN#404] In the “Katha Sarit Sagara,” Book ii., ch. 14, when the King of Vatsa receives the hand of Vasavadatta, “like a beautiful shoot lately budded on the creeper of love,” she walks round the fire, keeping it to the right, on which Prof. Tawney remarks that “the practice of walking round an object of reverence, with the right hand towards it, has been exhaustively discussed by Dr. Samuel Fergusson in his paper ’On the ceremonial turn called Desiul,’ published in the Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, for March 1877 (vol. i., series ii., No. 12). He shows it to have existed among the ancient Romans as well as the Celts.... Dr. Fergusson is of opinion that this movement was a symbol of the cosmical rotation, an imitation of the apparent course of the sun in the heavens.”
[FN#405] The affection of parents for their children is often a blind instinct, and sometimes selfish, though, after all, there is doubtless truth in these lines:
“A
mother’s love!
If
there be one thing pure,
Where
all beside is sullied,
That
can endure
When
all else pass away:
If
there be aught
Surpassing
human deed, or word, or thought,
It
is a mother’s love!”
[FN#406] Surma is a collyrium applied to the edges of the eyelids to increase the lustre of the eyes. A Persian poet, addressing the damsel of whom he is enamoured, says, “For eyes so intoxicated with love’s nectar what need is there of surma?”— This part of the story seems to be garbled; in another text of the romance of Hatim Ta’i it is only after the surma has been applied to the covetous man’s eyes that he beholds the hidden treasures.
[FN#407] The first part of the story of the Young King of the Black Isles, in The Nights, bears some analogy to this, but there the paramour is only “half-killed” and the vindictive queen transforms her husband from the waist downwards into marble.
[FN#408] On the Sources of some of Galland’s Tales. By Henry Charles Coote, F.S.A. “Folklore Record,” 1881, vol. iii. Part 2, p. 186.
[FN#409] See Thorpe’s “Yule Tide Stories,” Bohn’s ed., pp. 481- 486. Thorpe says that “for many years the Dummburg was the abode of robbers, who slew the passing travellers and merchants whom they perceived on the road from Leipsig to Brunswick, and heaped together the treasures of the plundered churches and the surrounding country, which they concealed in subterranean caverns.” The peasantry would therefore regard the spot with superstitious awe, and once such a tale as that of Ali Baba got amongst them, the robbers’ haunt in their neighbourhood would soon become the scene of the poor woodcutter’s adventure.
[FN#410] A Persian poet says:
“He
who violates the rights of the bread and salt
Breaks,
for his wretched self, head and neck.”
[FN#411] Miss Busk reproduces the proper names as they are transliterated in Julg’s German version of those Kalmuk and Mongolian Tales—from which a considerable portion of her book was rendered—thus: Ardschi Bordschi, Rakschasas, etc., but drollest of all is “Ramajana” (Ramayana), which is right in German but not in English.
[FN#412] The apocryphal gospels and the Christian hagiology are largely indebted to Buddhism, e.g., the Descent into Hell, of which there is such a graphic account in the Gospel of Nicodemus, seems to have been adapted from ancient Buddhist legends, now embodied in the opening chapters of a work entitled, “Karanda-vyuha,” which contain a description of the Boddhisattva Avalokiteswara’s descent into the hell Avichi, to deliver the souls there held captive by Yama, the lord of the lower world.
[FN#413] The Rabbins relate that among the Queen of Sheba’s tests of Solomon’s sagacity she brought before him a number of boys and girls apparelled all alike, and desired him to distinguish those of one sex from those of the other, as they stood in his presence. Solomon caused a large basin of water to be fetched in, and ordered them all to wash their hands. By this expedient he discovered the boys from the girls, since the former washed merely their hands, while the latter washed also their arms.
[FN#414] Dr. W. Grimm, in the notes to his “Kinder und Hausmrchen,” referring to the German form of the story (which we shall come to by and-by), says, “The Parrot, which is the fourth story in the Persian Touti Nameh, bears some resemblance to this”—the Parrot is the reciter of all the stories in the collection, not the title of this particular tale.
[FN#415] To Sir Richard Burton’s interesting note on the antiquity of the lens and its applied use to the telescope and microscope may be added a passage or two from Sir William Drummond’s “Origines; or, Remarks on the Origin of several Empires, States, and Cities,” 1825, vol. ii. pp. 246-250. This writer appears to think that telescopes were not unknown to the ancients and adduces plausible
“Some of the observations of the ancients must appear very extraordinary, if magnifying glasses had never been known among them. The boldness with which the Pythagoreans asserted that the surface of the moon was diversified by mountains and valleys can hardly be accounted for, unless Pythagoras had been convinced of the fact by the help of telescopes, which might have existed in the observatories of Egypt and Chaldea before those countries were conquered and laid waste by the Persians. Pliny (L. 11) says that 1600 stars had been counted in the 72 constellations, and by this expression I can only understand him to mean the 72 dodecans into which the Egyptians and Chaldeans divided the zodiac. Now this number of stars could never have been counted in the zodiac without the assistance of glasses. Ptolemy reckoned a much less number for the whole heavens The missionaries found many more stars marked in the Chinese charts of the heavens than formerly existed in those which were in use in Europe. Suidas, at the word {Greek} (glass), indicates, in explaining a passage in Aristophanes, that burning mirrors were occasionally made of glass. Now how can we suppose burning mirrors to have been made of glass without supposing the magnifying powers of glass to have been known? The Greeks, as Plutarch affirms, employed metallic mirrors, either plane, or convex, or concave, according to the use for which they were intended. If they could make burning mirrors of glass, they could have given any of these forms to glass. How then could they have avoided observing that two glasses, one convex and the other concave, placed at a certain distance from each other, magnified objects seen through them? Numerous experiments must have been made with concave and convex glasses before burning mirrors made of glass could have been employed. If astronomers never knew the magnifying powers of glass, and never placed lenses in the tubes of the dioptrons, what does Strabo (L. 3, c. 138) mean when he says: ’Vapours produce the same effects as the tubes in magnifying objects of vision by refraction?’”
Mr. W. F. Thompson, in his translation of the “Ahlak-i-Jalaly,” from the Persian of Fakir Jani Muhammad (15th century), has the following note on the Jam-i-Jamshid and other magical mirrors: “Jamshid, the fourth of the Kaianian dynasty, the Soloman of the Persians. His cup was said to mirror the world, so that he could observe all that was passing elsewhere—a fiction of his own for state purposes, apparently, backed by the use of artificial mirrors. Nizami tells that Alexander invented the steel mirror, by which he means, of course, that improved reflectors were used for telescopy in the days of Archimedes, but not early enough to have assisted Jamshid, who belongs to the fabulous and unchronicled age. In the romance of Beyjan and Manija, in the “Shah Nama,” this mirror is used by the great Khosru for the purpose of discovering the place of the hero’s imprisonment:
“The mirror in his hand revolving shook,
And earth’s whole surface glimmered in his look;
Nor less the secrets of the starry sphere,
The what, the when, the bow depicted clear,
From orbs celestial to the blade of grass,
All nature floated in the magic glass.”
[FN#416] We have been told this king had three daughters.
[FN#417] See in “Blackwood’s Magazine,” vol. iv., 1818, 1819, a translation, from the Danish of J. L. Rasmussen, of “An Historical and Geographical Essay on the trade and commerce of the Arabians and Persians with Russia and Scandinavia during the Middle Ages.—But learned Icelanders, while England was still semi-civilized, frequently made very long journeys into foreign lands: after performing the pilgrimage to Rome, they went to Syria, and some penetrated into Central Asia.
[FN#418] This, of course, is absurd, as each was equally interested in the business; but it seems to indicate a vague reminiscence of the adventures of the Princes in the story of The Envious Sisters.
[FN#419] There is a naivete about this that is particularly refreshing.
[FN#420] This recalls the fairy Meliora, in the romance of Partenopex de Blois. who “knew of ancient tales a countless store.”
[FN#421] In a Norwegian folk-tale the hero receives from a dwarf a magic ship that could enlarge itself so as to contain any number of men, yet could be earned m the pocket.
[FN#422] The Water of Life, the Water of Immortality, the Fountain of Youth—a favourite and wide-spread myth during the Middle Ages. In the romance of Sir Huon of Bordeaux the hero boldly encounters a griffin, and after a desperate fight, in which he is sorely wounded, slays the monster. Close at hand he discovers a clear fountain, at the bottom of which is a gravel of precious stones. “Then he dyde of his helme and dranke of the water his fyll, and he had no sooner dranke therof but incontynent he was hole of all his woundys.” Nothing more frequently occurs in folk tales than for the hero to be required to perform three difficult and dangerous tasks—sometimes impossible, without supernatural assistance.
[FN#423] “Say, will a courser of the Sun
All gently
with a dray-horse run?”
[FN#424] Ting: assembly of notables—of udallers, &c. The term survives in our word hustings; and in Ding-wall—Ting-val; where tings were held.
[FN#425] The last of the old Dublin ballad-singers, who assumed the respectable name of Zozimus, and is said to have been the author of the ditties wherewith he charmed his street auditors, was wont to chant the legend of the Finding of Moses in a version which has at least the merit of originality:
“In
Egypt’s land, upon the banks of Nile,
King
Pharaoh’s daughter went to bathe in style;
She
took her dip, then went unto the land,
And,
to dry her royal pelt, she ran along the strand.
A
bulrush tripped her, whereupon she saw
A
smiling baby in a wad of straw;
She
took it up, and said, in accents mild—
Tare
an’ agurs, girls! which av yez owns this child?”
The Babylonian analogue, as translated by the Rev. Prof. A. H. Sayce, in the first vol. of the “Folk-Lore Journal” (1883), is as follows:
“Sargon, the mighty monarch, the King of Agane, am I. My mother was a princess; my father I knew not, my father’s brother loved the mountain-land. In the city of Azipiranu, which on the bank of the Euphrates lies, my mother, the princess, conceived me, in an inaccessible spot she brought me forth. She placed me in a basket of rushes, with bitumen the door of my ark she closed. She launched me on the river, which drowned me not. The river bore me along, to Akki, the irrigator, it brought me. Akki, the irrigator, in the tenderness of his heart, lifted me up. Akki, the irrigator, as his own child brought me up. Akki, the irrigator, as his gardener appointed me, and in my gardenership the goddess Istar loved me. For 45 years the kingdom I have ruled, and the black headed (Accadian) race have governed.”
[FN#426] This strange notion may have been derived from some Eastern source, since it occurs in Indian fictions; for example, in Dr. Rajendralala Mitra’s “Sanskrit Buddhist Literature of Nepal,” p. 304, we read that “there lived in the village of Vasava a rich householder who had born unto him a son with a jewelled ring in his ear.” And in the “Mahabharata” we are told of a king who had a son from whose body issued nothing but gold— the prototype of the gold-laying goose.
[FN#427] Connected with this romance is the tale of “The Six Swans,” in Grimm’s collection— see Mrs. Hunt’s English translation, vol. i. p. 192.
[FN#428] Mahbub. a piece of gold, value about 10 francs, replaces the dinar of old tales. Those in Egypt are all since the time of the Turks: 9, 7, or 6 1/2 frs. according to issue.—Note by Spitta Bey.
[FN#429] Here again we have the old superstition of “blood speaking to blood,” referred to by Sir Richard, ante, p. 347, note 1. It often occurs in Asiatic stories. Thus in the Persian “Bakhtyar Nama,” when the adopted son of the robber chief is brought with other captives, before the king (he is really the king’s own son, whom he and the queen abandoned in their flight through the desert), his majesty’s bowels strangely yearned towards the youth, and in the conclusion this is carried to absurdity: when Bakhtyar is found to be the son of the royal pair, “the milk sprang from the breasts of the queen,” as she looked on him—albeit she must then have been long past child-bearing!
[FN#430] The enchanted pitcher does duty here for the witches’ broomstick and the fairies’ rush of European tales, but a similar conveyance is, I think, not unknown to Western folk-lore.
[FN#431] In a Norse story the hero on entering a forbidden room in a troll’s house finds a horse with a pan of burning coals under his nose and a measure of corn at his tail, and when he removes the coals and substitutes the corn, the horse becomes his friend and adviser.
[FN#432] M. Dozon does not think that Muslim customs allow of a man’s marrying three sisters at once; but we find the king does the same in the modern Arab version.
[FN#433] London: Macmillan and Co., p. 236 ff.
[FN#434] This recalls the biblical legend of the widow’s cruse, which has its exact counterpart in Singhalese folk-lore.
[FN#435] This recalls the story of the herd-boy who cried “Wolf! wolf!”
[FN#436] Again the old notion of maternal and paternal instincts; but the children don’t often seem in folk-tales, to have a similar impulsive affection for their unknown parents.
[FN#437] Colotropis gigantea.
[FN#438] Rakshashas and rakshasis are male and female demons or ogres, in the Hindu mythology.
[FN#439] Literally, the king of birds, a fabulous species of horse remarkable for swiftness, which plays an important part in Tamil stories and romances.
[FN#440] Here we have a parallel to the biblical legend of the passage of the Israelites dryshod
[FN#441] Demons, ogres, trolls, giants, et hoc genus omne, never fail to discover the presence of human beings by their keen sense of smelling. “Fee, faw, fum! I smell the blood of a British man,” cries a giant when the renowned hero Jack is concealed in his castle. “Fum! fum! sento odor christianum,” exclaims an ogre in Italian folk tales. “Femme, je sens la viande fraiche, la chair de chretien!” says a giant to his wife in French stories.
[FN#442] In my popular “Tales and Fictions” a number of examples are cited of life depending on some extraneous object—vol. i. pp. 347-351.
[FN#443] In the Tamil story-book, the English translation of which is called “The Dravidian Nights’ Entertainments,” a wandering princess, finding the labour-pains coming upon her, takes shelter in the house of a dancing-woman, who says to the nurses, “If she gives birth to a daughter, it is well [because the woman could train her to follow her own profession’], but if a son, I do not want him;—close her eyes, remove him to a place where you can kill him, and throwing a bit of wood on the ground tell her she has given birth to it.”—I daresay that a story similar to the Bengali version exists among the Tamils.
[FN#444] It is to be hoped we shall soon have Sir Richard Burton’s promised complete English translation of this work, since one half is, I understand, already done.