The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night, Volume I
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Title: The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night, Volume I
Translator: John Payne
Release date: August 1, 2005 [eBook #8655]
Most recently updated: February 26, 2015
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8655
Credits: Produced by JC Byers, Janelle Maiu, Coralee Sheehan, and Cameron Fruit
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE NIGHT, VOLUME I ***
Produced by JC Byers, Janelle Maiu, Coralee Sheehan, and Cameron Fruit
THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE NIGHT:
Now First Completely Done Into English
Prose and Verse, From The Original Arabic,
By John Payne
(Author of "The Masque of Shadows," "Intaglios: Sonnets," "Songs
of Life and Death,"
"Lautrec," "The Poems of Master Francis Villon of Paris," "New
Poems," Etc, Etc.).
In Nine Volumes:
VOLUME THE FIRST.
London
Printed For Subscribers Only
1901
Delhi Edition
Contents of The First Volume.
Introduction. Story of King Shehriyar and his Brother
a. Story of the Ox and the Ass
1. The Merchant and the Genie
a. The First Old Man's Story
b. The Second Old Man's Story
c. The Third Old Man's Story
2. The Fisherman and the Genie
a. Story of The Physician Douban
ab. Story of King Sindbad and his Falcon
ac. Story of The King's Son and the Ogress
b. Story of the Enchanted Youth
3. The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad
a. The First Calender's Story
b. The Second Calender's Story
ba. Story of the Envier and the Envied
c. The Third Calender's Story
d. The Eldest Lady's Story
e. The Story of the Portress
4. The Three Apples
5. Noureddin Ali of Cairo and His Son Bedreddin Hassan
6. Story of the Hunchback
a. The Christian Broker's Story
b. The Controller's Story
c. The Jewish Physician's Story
d. The Tailor's Story
e. The Barber's Story
ea. Story of the Barber's First Brother
eb. Story of the Barber's Second Brother
ec. Story of the Barber's Third Brother
ed. Story of the Barber's Fourth Brother
ee. Story of the Barber's Fifth Brother
ef. Story of the Barber's Sixth Brother
7. Noureddin Ali and the Damsel Enis El Jelis
8. Ghanim Ben Eyoub the Slave of Love
a. Story of the Eunuch Bekhit
b. Story of the Eunich Kafour
PREFATORY NOTE.
The present is, I believe, the first complete translation of the
great Arabic compendium of romantic fiction that has been
attempted in any European language comprising about four times as
much matter as that of Galland and three times as much as that of
any other translator known to myself; and a short statement of
the sources from which it is derived may therefore be acceptable
to my readers. Three printed editions, more or less complete,
exist of the Arabic text of the Thousand and One Nights; namely,
those of Breslau, Boulac (Cairo) and Calcutta (1839), besides an
incomplete one, comprising the first two hundred nights only,
published at Calcutta in 1814. Of these, the first is horribly
corrupt and greatly inferior, both in style and completeness, to
the others, and the second (that of Boulac) is also, though in a
far less degree, incomplete, whole stories (as, for instance,
that of the Envier and the Envied in the present volume) being
omitted and hiatuses, varying in extent from a few lines to
several pages, being of frequent occurrence, whilst in addition
to these defects, the editor, a learned Egyptian, has played
havoc with the style of his original, in an ill-judged attempt to
improve it, producing a medley, more curious than edifying, of
classical and semi-modern diction and now and then, in his
unlucky zeal, completely disguising the pristine meaning of
certain passages. The third edition, that which we owe to Sir
William Macnaghten and which appears to have been printed from a
superior copy of the manuscript followed by the Egyptian editor,
is by far the most carefully printed and edited of the three and
offers, on the whole, the least corrupt and most comprehensive
text of the work. I have therefore adopted it as my standard or
basis of translation and have, to the best of my power, remedied
the defects (such as hiatuses, misprints, doubtful or corrupt
passages, etc.) which are of no infrequent occurrence even in
this, the best of the existing texts, by carefully collating it
with the editions of Boulac and Breslau (to say nothing of
occasional references to the earlier Calcutta edition of the
first two hundred nights), adopting from one and the other such
variants, additions and corrections as seemed to me best
calculated to improve the general effect and most homogeneous
with the general spirit of the work, and this so freely that the
present version may be said, in great part, to represent a
variorum text of the original, formed by a collation of the
different printed texts; and no proper estimate can, therefore,
be made of the fidelity of the translation, except by those who
are intimately acquainted with the whole of these latter. Even
with the help of the new lights gained by the laborious process
of collation and comparison above mentioned, the exact sense of
many passages must still remain doubtful, so corrupt are the
extant texts and so incomplete our knowledge, as incorporated in
dictionaries, etc, of the peculiar dialect, half classical and
half modern, in which the original work is written.
One special feature of the present version is the appearance,
for the first time, in English metrical shape, preserving the
external form and rhyme movement of the originals, of the
whole of the poetry with which the Arabic text is so freely
interspersed. This great body of verse, equivalent to at least
ten thousand twelve-syllable English lines, is of the most
unequal quality, varying from poetry worthy of the name to the
merest doggrel, and as I have, in pursuance of my original scheme,
elected to translate everything, good and bad (with a very few
exceptions in cases of manifest mistake or misapplication), I can
only hope that my readers will, in judging of my success, take
into consideration the enormous difficulties with which I have
had to contend and look with indulgence upon my efforts to render,
under unusually irksome conditions, the energy and beauty of the
original, where these qualities exist, and in their absence, to
keep my version from degenerating into absolute doggrel.
The present translation being intended as a purely literary
work produced with the sole object of supplying the general
body of cultivated readers with a fairly representative and
characteristic version of the most famous work of narrative
fiction in existence, I have deemed it advisable to depart, in
several particulars, from the various systems of transliteration
of Oriental proper names followed by modern scholars, as,
although doubtless admirably adapted to works having a scientific
or non-literary object, they rest mainly upon devices (such as
the use of apostrophes, accents, diacritical points and the
employment of both vowels and consonants in unusual groups and
senses) foreign to the genius of the English language and
calculated only to annoy the reader of a work of imagination. Of
these points of departure from established usage I need only
particularize some of the more important; the others will, in
general, be found to speak for themselves. One of the most salient
is the case of the short vowel fet-heh, which is usually written
[a breve], but which I have thought it better to render, as a
rule, by [e breve], as in "bed" (a sound practically equivalent
to that of a, as in "beggar," adopted by the late Mr. Lane to
represent this vowel), reserving the English a, as in "father,"
to represent the alif of prolongation or long Arabic a, since I
should else have no means of differentiating the latter from the
former, save by the use of accents or other clumsy expedients, at
once, to my mind, foreign to the purpose and vexatious to the
reader of a work of pure literature. In like manner, I have
eschewed the use of the letter q, as an equivalent for the dotted
or guttural kaf (choosing to run the risk of occasionally
misleading the reader as to the original Arabic form of a word
by leaving him in ignorance whether the k used is the dotted
or undotted one,--a point of no importance whatever to the
non-scientific public,--rather than employ an English letter in a
manner completely unwarranted by the construction of our
language, in which q has no power as a terminal or as moved by
any vowel other than u, followed by one of the four others) and
have supplied its place, where the dotted kaf occurs as a
terminal or as preceding a hard vowel, by the hard c, leaving k
to represent it (in common with the undotted kaf generally) in
those instances where it is followed by a soft vowel. For
similar reasons, I have not attempted to render the Arabic
quasi-consonant aïn, save by the English vowel corresponding to
that by which it is moved, preferring to leave the guttural
element of its sound (for which we have no approach to an
equivalent in English) unrepresented, rather than resort to the
barbarous and meaningless device of the apostrophe. Again, the
principle, in accordance with which I have rendered the proper
names of the original, is briefly (and subject to certain
variations on the ground of convenience and literary fitness) to
preserve unaltered such names as Tigris, Bassora, Cairo, Aleppo,
Damascus, etc., which are familiar to us otherwise than by the
Arabian Nights and to alter which, for the sake of mere
literality, were as gratuitous a piece of pedantry as to insist
upon writing Copenhagen Kjobenhavn, or Canton Kouang-tong, and to
transliterate the rest as nearly as may consist with a due regard
to artistic considerations. The use of untranslated Arabic words,
other than proper names, I have, as far as possible, avoided,
rendering them, with very few exceptions, by the best English
equivalents in my power, careful rather to give the general
sense, where capable of being conveyed by reasonable substitution
of idiom or otherwise, than to retain the strict letter at the
expense of the spirit; nor, on the other hand, have I thought it
necessary to alter the traditional manner of spelling certain
words which have become incorporated with our language, where
(as in the case of the words genie, houri, roe, khalif, vizier,
cadi, Bedouin, etc. etc.) the English equivalent is fairly
representative of the original Arabic.
I have to return my cordial thanks to Captain Richard F. Burton,
the well-known traveller and author, who has most kindly
undertaken to give me the benefit of his great practical
knowledge of the language and customs of the Arabs in revising
the manuscript of my translation for the press.
THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS
AND ONE NIGHT
In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful! Praise be to
God, the Lord of the two worlds,[FN#1] and blessing and peace
upon the Prince of the Prophets, our lord and master Mohammed,
whom God bless and preserve with abiding and continuing peace and
blessing until the Day of the Faith! Of a verity, the doings of
the ancients become a lesson to those that follow after, so that
men look upon the admonitory events that have happened to others
and take warning, and come to the knowledge of what befell bygone
peoples and are restrained thereby. So glory be to Him who hath
appointed the things that have been done aforetime for an example
to those that come after! And of these admonitory instances are
the histories called the Thousand Nights and One Night, with all
their store of illustrious fables and relations.
It is recorded in the chronicles of the things that have been
done of time past that there lived once, in the olden days and in
bygone ages and times, a king of the kings of the sons of Sasan,
who reigned over the Islands[FN#2] of India and China and was
lord of armies and guards and servants and retainers. He had two
sons, an elder and a younger, who were both valiant cavaliers,
but the elder was a stouter horseman than the younger. When their
father died, he left his empire to his elder son, whose name was
Shehriyar, and he took the government and ruled his subjects
justly, so that the people of the country and of the empire loved
him well, whilst his brother Shahzeman became King of Samarcand
of Tartary. The two kings abode each in his own dominions, ruling
justly over their subjects and enjoying the utmost prosperity and
happiness, for the space of twenty years, at the end of which
time the elder king yearned after his brother and commanded his
Vizier to repair to the latter's court and bring him to his own
capital. The Vizier replied, "I hear and obey," and set out at
once and journeyed till he reached King Shahzeman's court in
safety, when he saluted him for his brother and informed him that
the latter yearned after him and desired that he would pay him a
visit, to which King Shahzeman consented gladly and made ready
for the journey and appointed his Vizier to rule the country in
his stead during his absence. Then he caused his tents and camels
and mules to be brought forth and encamped, with his guards and
attendants, without the city, in readiness to set out next
morning for his brother's kingdom. In the middle of the night,
it chanced that he bethought him of somewhat he had forgotten
in his palace; so he returned thither privily and entered his
apartments, where he found his wife asleep in his own bed, in the
arms of one of his black slaves. When he saw this, the world grew
black in his sight, and he said to himself, "If this is what
happens whilst I am yet under the city walls, what will be
the condition of this accursed woman during my absence at my
brother's court?" Then he drew his sword and smote the twain and
slew them and left them in the bed and returned presently to his
camp, without telling any one what had happened. Then he gave
orders for immediate departure and set out a'once and travelled
till he drew near his brother's capital when he despatched
vaunt-couriers to announce his approach. His brother came forth
to meet him and saluted him and rejoiced exceedingly and caused
the city to be decorated in his honour. Then he sat down with him
to converse and make merry; but King Shahzeman could not forget
the perfidy of his wife and grief grew on him more and more and
his colour changed and his body became weak. Shehriyar saw his
condition, but attributed it to his separation from his country
and his kingdom, so let him alone and asked no questions of him,
till one day he said to him, "O my brother, I see that thou art
grown weak of body and hast lost thy colour." And Shahzeman
answered, "O my brother, I have an internal wound," but did not
tell him about his wife. Said Shehriyar, "I wish thou wouldst
ride forth with me a-hunting; maybe it would lighten thy heart."
But Shahzeman refused; so his brother went out to hunt without
him. Now there were in King Shahzeman's apartments lattice-windows
overlooking his brother's garden, and as the former
was sitting looking on the garden, behold a gate of the
palace opened, and out came twenty damsels and twenty black
slaves, and among them his brother's wife, who was wonderfully
fair and beautiful. They all came up to a fountain, where the
girls and slaves took off their clothes and sat down together.
Then the queen called out, "O Mesoud!" And there came to her a
black slave, who embraced her and she him. Then he lay with her,
and on likewise did the other slaves with the girls. And they
ceased not from kissing and clipping and cricketing and carousing
until the day began to wane. When the King of Tartary saw this,
he said to himself, "By Allah, my mischance was lighter than
this!" And his grief and chagrin relaxed from him and he said,
"This is more grievous than what happened to me!" So he put away
his melancholy and ate and drank. Presently, his brother came
back from hunting and they saluted each other: and Shehriyar
looked at Shahzeman and saw that his colour had returned and his
face was rosy and he ate heartily, whereas before he ate but
little. So he said to him, "O my brother, when I last saw thee,
thou wast pale and wan, and now I see that the colour has
returned to thy face. Tell me how it is with thee." Quoth
Shahzeman, "I will tell thee what caused my loss of colour, but
excuse me from acquainting thee with the cause of its return to
me." Said Shehriyar, "Let me hear first what was the cause of thy
pallor and weakness." "Know then, O my brother," rejoined
Shahzeman, "that when thou sentest thy vizier to bid me to thee,
I made ready for the journey and had actually quitted my capital
city, when I remembered that I had left behind me a certain
jewel, that which I gave thee. So I returned to my palace, where
I found my wife asleep in my bed, in the arms of a black slave. I
slew them both and came to thee; and it was for brooding over
this affair, that I lost my colour and became weak. But forgive
me if I tell thee not the cause of my restoration to health."
When his brother heard this, he said to him, "I conjure thee by
Allah, tell me the reason of thy recovery!" So he told him all
that he had seen, and Shehriyar said, "I must see this with my
own eyes." "Then," replied Shahzeman, "feign to go forth to hunt
and hide thyself in my lodging and thou shalt see all this and
have ocular proof of the truth." So Shehriyar ordered his
attendants to prepare to set out at once; whereupon the troops
encamped without the city and he himself went forth with them and
sat in his pavilion, bidding his servants admit no one. Then he
disguised himself and returned secretly to King Shahzeman's
palace and sat with him at the lattice overlooking the garden,
until the damsels and their mistress came out with the slaves and
did as his brother had reported, till the call to afternoon
prayer. When King Shehriyar saw this, he was as one distraught
and said to his brother, "Arise, let us depart hence, for we have
no concern with kingship, and wander till we find one to whom the
like has happened as to us, else our death were better than
our life." Then they went out by a postern of the palace and
journeyed days and nights till they came to a tree standing in
the midst of a meadow, by a spring of water, on the shore of the
salt sea, and they drank of the stream and sat down by it to
rest. When the day was somewhat spent, behold, the sea became
troubled and there rose from it a black column that ascended to
the sky and made towards the meadow. When the princes saw this,
they were afraid and climbed up to the top of the tree, which was
a high one, that they might see what was the matter; and behold,
it was a genie of lofty stature, broad-browed and wide-cheated,
bearing on his head a coffer of glass with seven locks of steel.
He landed and sat down under the tree, where he set down the
coffer, and opening it, took out a smaller one. This also he
opened, and there came forth a damsel slender of form and
dazzlingly beautiful, as she were a shining sun, as says the poet
Uteyeh:
She shines out in the dusk, and lo! the day is here, And all the
trees flower forth with blossoms bright and clear,
The sun from out her brows arises, and the moon, When she unveils
her face, cloth hide for shame and fear.
All living things prostrate themselves before her feet, When she
unshrouds and all her hidden charms appear;
And when she flashes forth the lightnings of her glance, She
maketh eyes to rain, like showers, with many a tear.
When the genie saw her, he said to her, "O queen of noble ladies,
thou whom indeed I stole away on thy wedding night, I have a mind
to sleep awhile." And he laid his head on her knees and fell
asleep. Presently the lady raised her eyes to the tree and saw
the two kings among the branches; so she lifted the genie's head
from her lap and laid it on the ground, then rose and stood
beneath the tree and signed to them to descend, without heeding
the Afrit.[FN#3] They answered her, in the same manner, "God on
thee [FN#4] excuse us from this." But she rejoined by signs, as
who should say, "If you do not come down, I will wake the Afrit
on you, and he will kill you without mercy." So they were afraid
and came down to her, whereupon she came up to them and offered
them her favours, saying, "To it, both of you, and lustily; or I
will set the Afrit on you." So for fear of him, King Shehriyar
said to his brother Shahzeman, "O brother, do as she bids thee."
But he replied, "Not I; do thou have at her first." And they made
signs to each other to pass first, till she said, "Why do I see
you make signs to each other? An you come not forward and fall
to, I will rouse the Afrit on you." So for fear of the genie,
they lay with her one after the other, and when they had done,
she bade them arise, and took out of her bosom a purse containing
a necklace made of five hundred and seventy rings, and said to
them, "Know ye what these are?" They answered, "No." And she
said, "Every one of the owners of these rings has had to do with
me in despite of this Afrit. And now give me your rings, both of
you." So each of them took off a ring and gave it to her. And she
said to them, "Know that this genie carried me off on my wedding
night and laid me in a box and shut the box up in a glass chest,
on which he clapped seven strong locks and sank it to the bottom
of the roaring stormy sea, knowing not that nothing can hinder a
woman, when she desires aught, even as says one of the poets:
I rede thee put no Faith in womankind, Nor trust the oaths they
lavish all in vain:
For on the satisfaction of their lusts Depend alike their love
and their disdain.
They proffer lying love, but perfidy Is all indeed their garments
do contain.
Take warning, then, by Joseph's history, And how a woman sought
to do him bane;
And eke thy father Adam, by their fault To leave the groves of
Paradise was fain.
Or as another says:
Out on yon! blame confirms the blamed one in his way. My fault is
not so great indeed as you would say.
If I'm in love, forsooth, my case is but the same As that of
other men before me, many a day.
For great the wonder were if any man alive From women and their
wiles escape unharmed away!"
When the two kings heard this, they marvelled and said, "Allah!
Allah! There is no power and no virtue save in God the Most High,
the Supreme! We seek aid of God against the malice of women, for
indeed their craft is great!" Then she said to them, "Go your
ways." So they returned to the road, and Shehriyar said to
Shahzeman, "By Allah, O my brother, this Afrit's case is more
grievous than ours. For this is a genie and stole away his
mistress on her wedding night and clapped her in a chest, which
he locked with seven locks and sank in the midst of the sea,
thinking to guard her from that which was decreed by fate, yet
have we seen that she has lain with five hundred and seventy men
in his despite, and now with thee and me to boot. Verily, this is
a thing that never yet happened to any, and it should surely
console us. Let us therefore return to our kingdoms and resolve
never again to take a woman to wife; and as for me, I will show
thee what I will do." So they set out at once and presently came
to the camp outside Shehriyar's capital and, entering the royal
pavilion, sat down on their bed of estate. Then the chamberlains
and amirs and grandees came in to them and Shehriyar commanded
them to return to the city. So they returned to the city and
Shehriyar went up to his palace, where he summoned his Vizier and
bade him forthwith put his wife to death. The Vizier accordingly
took the queen and killed her, whilst Shehriyar, going into the
slave girls and concubines, drew his sword and slew them all.
Then he let bring others in their stead and took an oath that
every night he would go in to a maid and in the morning put her
to death, for that there was not one chaste woman on the face of
the earth. As for Shahzeman, he sought to return to his kingdom
at once; so his brother equipped him for the journey and he set
out and fared on till he came to his own dominions. Meanwhile,
King Shehriyar commanded his Vizier to bring him the bride of the
night, that he might go in to her; so he brought him one of the
daughters of the amirs and he went in to her, and on the morrow
he bade the Vizier cut off her head. The Vizier dared not disobey
the King's commandment, so he put her to death and brought him
another girl, of the daughters of the notables of the land. The
King went in to her also, and on the morrow he bade the Vizier
kill her; and he ceased not to do thus for three years, till the
land was stripped of marriageable girls, and all the women and
mothers and fathers wept and cried out against the King, cursing
him and complaining to the Creator of heaven and earth and
calling for succour upon Him who heareth prayer and answereth
those that cry to Him; and those that had daughters left fled
with them, till at last there remained not a single girl in the
city apt for marriage. One day the King ordered the Vizier to
bring him a maid as of wont; so the Vizier went out and made
search for a girl, but found not one and returned home troubled
and careful for fear of the king's anger. Now this Vizier had two
daughters, the elder called Shehrzad and the younger Dunyazad,
and the former had read many books and histories and chronicles
of ancient kings and stories of people of old time; it is said
indeed that she had collected a thousand books of chronicles of
past peoples and bygone kings and poets. Moreover, she had read
books of science and medicine; her memory was stored with verses
and stories and folk-lore and the sayings of kings and sages, and
she was wise, witty, prudent and well-bred. She said to her
father, "How comes it that I see thee troubled and oppressed with
care and anxiety? Quoth one of the poets:
'Tell him that is of care oppressed, That grief shall not endure
alway,
But even as gladness fleeteth by, So sorrow too shall pass
away.'"
When the Vizier heard his daughter's words, he told her his case,
and she said, "By Allah, O my father, marry me to this king, for
either I will be the means of the deliverance of the daughters of
the Muslims from slaughter or I will die and perish as others
have perished." "For God's sake," answered the Vizier, "do not
thus adventure thy life!" But she said, "It must be so."
Whereupon her father was wroth with her and said to her, "Fool
that thou art, dost thou not know that the ignorant man who
meddles in affairs falls into grievous peril, and that he who
looks not to the issue of his actions finds no friend in time of
evil fortune? As says the byword, 'I was sitting at my ease, but
my officiousness would not let me rest.' And I fear lest there
happen to thee what happened to the ox and the ass with the
husbandman." "And what happened to them?" asked she. Quoth the
Vizier, "Know, O my daughter, that
Story of the Ox[FN#5] and the Ass
There was once a merchant who was rich in goods and cattle, and
he had a wife and children and dwelt in the country and was
skilled in husbandry. Now God had gifted him to understand the
speech of beasts and birds of every kind, but under pain of death
if he divulged his gift to any one; so he kept it secret for fear
of death. He had in his byre an ox and an ass, each tied up in
his stall, hard by the other. One day, as the merchant was
sitting near at hand, he heard the ox say to the ass, 'I give
thee joy, O Father Wakeful![FN#6] Thou enjoyest rest and
attention and they keep thy stall always swept and sprinkled, and
thine eating is sifted barley and thy drink fresh water, whilst I
am always weary, for they take me in the middle of the night and
gird the yoke on my neck and set me to plough and I toil without
ceasing from break of morn till sunset. I am forced to work more
than my strength and suffer all kinds of indignities, such as
blows and abuse, from the cruel ploughman; and I return home at
the end of the day, and indeed my sides are torn and my neck is
flayed. Then they shut me up in the cow-house and throw me beans
and straw mixed with earth and husks, and I lie all night in dung
and stale. But thy place is always swept and sprinkled and thy
manger clean and full of sweet hay and thou art always resting,
except that, now and then, our master hath occasion to ride thee
and returns speedily with thee; and but for this thou art always
resting and I toiling, and thou sleeping and I waking; thou art
full and I hungry and thou honoured and I despised.' 'O
broadhead,' answered the ass,' he was in the right who dubbed
thee ox [FN#7], for thou art stupid in the extreme, nor is there
in thee thought or craft but thou showest zeal and cost thine
utmost endeavour before thy master and fearest and killest
thyself for the benefit of another. Thou goest forth at the time
of morning prayer and returnest not till sundown and endurest all
day all manner of afflictions, now blows now fatigue and now
abuse. When thou returnest, the ploughman ties thee to a stinking
manger, and thou friskest and pawest the ground and buttest with
thy horns and bellowest greatly, and they think thou art content.
No sooner have they thrown thee thy fodder than thou fallest on
it greedily and hastenest to fill thy belly with it. But if thou
wilt follow my counsel, it will be the better for thee and thou
wilt get twice as much rest as I. When thou goest forth to the
furrow and they lay the yoke on thy neck, lie down, and do not
rise, even if they beat thee, or only rise and lie down again;
and when they bring thee home, fall prostrate on thy back and
refuse thy fodder, when they throw it thee and feign to be sick.
Do this for a day or two and thou wilt have rest from toil and
weariness.' The ox thanked the ass greatly for his advice and
called down blessings on him; and the merchant heard all that
passed between them.
Next day the ploughman took the ox and yoked him to the plough
and set him to work as usual. The ox began to fall short in his
work, and the ploughman beat him till he broke the yoke and fled,
following out the ass's precepts; but the man overtook him and
beat him till he despaired of life. Yet for all that, he did
nothing but stand still and fall down till the evening. Then the
ploughman took him home and tied him in his stall; but he
withdrew from the manger and neither frisked nor stamped nor
bellowed as usual, and the man wondered at this. Then he brought
him the beans and straw, but he smelt at them and left them and
lay down at a distance and passed the night without eating. Next
morning, the ploughman came and found the straw and beans
untouched and the ox lying on his back, with his stomach swollen
and his legs in the air; so he was concerned for him and said to
himself, 'He has certainly fallen ill, and this is why he would
not work yesterday.' Then he went to his master and told him that
the ox was ill and would not touch his fodder. Now the farmer
knew what this meant, for that he had overheard the talk between
the ox and the ass as before mentioned. So he said, 'Take that
knave of an ass and bind the yoke on his neck and harness him to
the plough and try and make him do the ox's work.' So the
ploughman took the ass and made him work all day beyond his
strength to accomplish the ox's task; and he beat him till his
skin and ribs were sore and his neck flayed with the yoke. When
the evening came and the ass resumed home, he could hardly drag
himself along. But as for the ox, he had lain all day, resting,
and had eaten his fodder cheerfully and with a good appetite; and
all day long he had called down blessings on the ass for his good
counsel, not knowing what had befallen him on his account. So
when the night came and the ass returned to the stable, the ox
arose and said to him, 'Mayst thou be gladdened with good news, O
Father Wakeful! Through thee, I have rested today and have eaten
my food in peace and comfort.' The ass made him no answer, for
rage and vexation and fatigue and the beating he had undergone;
but he said to himself, 'All this comes of my folly in giving
another good advice; as the saying goes, "I was lying at full
length, but my officiousness would not let me be." But I will go
about with him and return him to his place, else I shall perish.'
Then he went to his manger weary, whilst the ox thanked him and
blessed him. "And thou, O my daughter," said the Vizier, "like
the ass, wilt perish through thy lack of sense, so do thou oft
quiet and cast not thyself into perdition; indeed I give thee
good counsel and am affectionately solicitous for thee." "O my
father," answered she, "nothing will serve me but I must go up to
this king and become his wife." Quoth he, "An thou hold not thy
peace and bide still, I will do with thee even as the merchant
did with his wife." "And what was that?" asked she. "Know,"
answered he, "that the merchant and his wife and children came
out on the terrace, it being a moonlit night and the moon at its
full. Now the terrace overlooked the byre; and presently, as he
sat, with his children playing before him, the merchant heard the
ass say to the ox, 'Tell me, O Father Stupid, what dost thou mean
to do tomorrow?' 'What but that thou advisest me?' answered the
ox. 'Thine advice was as good as could be and has gotten me
complete rest, and I will not depart from it in the least; so
when they bring me my fodder, I will refuse it and feign sickness
and swell out my belly.' The ass shook his head and said, 'Beware
of doing that I' 'Why?' asked the ox, and the ass answered, 'Know
that I heard our master say to the labourer, "If the ox do not
rise and eat his fodder today, send for the butcher to slaughter
him, and give his flesh to the poor and make a rug of his skin."
And I fear for thee on account of this. So take my advice, ere
ill-hap betide thee, and when they bring thee the fodder, eat it
and arise and bellow and paw the ground with thy feet, or our
master will assuredly slaughter thee.' Whereupon the ox arose and
bellowed and thanked the ass, and said, 'Tomorrow, I will go with
them readily.' Then he ate up all his fodder, even to licking the
manger with his tongue.
When the merchant heard this, he was amused at the ass's trick,
and laughed, till he fell backward. 'Why dost thou laugh?' asked
his wife; and he said, 'I laughed at something that I saw and
heard, but it is a secret and I cannot disclose it, or I shall
die.' Quoth she, 'There is no help for it but thou must tell me
the reason of thy laughter, though thou die for it.' 'I cannot
reveal it,' answered he, 'for fear of death.' 'It was at me thou
didst laugh,' said she, and ceased not to importune him till he
was worn out and distracted. So he assembled all his family and
kinsfolk and summoned the Cadi and the witnesses, being minded to
make his last dispositions and impart to her the secret and die,
for indeed he loved her with a great love, and she was the
daughter of his father's brother and the mother of his children.
Moreover, he sent for all her family and the neighbours, and when
they were all assembled, he told them the state of the case and
announced to them the approach of his last hour. Then he gave his
wife her portion and appointed guardians of his children and
freed his slave girls and took leave of his people. They all
wept, and the Cadi and the witnesses wept also and went up to the
wife and said to her, 'We conjure thee, by Allah, give up this
matter, lest thy husband and the father of thy children die. Did
he not know that if he revealed the secret, he would surely die,
he would have told thee.' But she replied, 'By Allah, I will not
desist from him, till he tell me, though he die for it.' So they
forbore to press her. And all who were present wept sore, and
there was a general mourning in the house. Then the merchant rose
and went to the cow-house, to make his ablutions and pray,
intending after to return and disclose his secret and die.
Now he had a cock and fifty hens and a dog, and he heard the
latter say in his lingo to the cock, 'How mean is thy wit, O
cock! May he be disappointed who reared thee! Our master is in
extremity and thou clappest thy wings and crowest and fliest from
one hen's back to another's! God confound thee! Is this a time
for sport and diversion? Art thou not ashamed of thyself?' 'And
what ails our master, O dog?' asked the cock. The dog told him
what had happened and how the merchant's wife had importuned him,
till he was about to tell her his secret and die, and the cock
said, 'Then is our master little of wit and lacking in sense; if
he cannot manage his affairs with a single wife, his life is not
worth prolonging. See, I have fifty wives. I content this one and
anger that, stint one and feed another, and through my good
governance they are all under my control. Now, our master
pretends to sense and accomplishments, and he has but one wife
and yet knows not how to manage her.' Quoth the dog, 'What, then,
should our master do?' 'He should take a stick,' replied the
cock, 'and beat her soundly, till she says, "I repent, O my lord!
I will never again ask a question as long as I live." And when
once he has done this, he will be free from care and enjoy life.
But he has neither sense nor judgment.'
When the merchant heard what the cock said, he went to his wife
(after he had hidden a rattan in an empty store-room) and said to
her, 'Come with me into this room, that I may tell thee my secret
and die and none see me.' So she entered gladly, thinking that he
was about to tell her his secret, and he locked the door; then he
took the rattan and brought it down on her back and ribs and
shoulders, saying, 'Wilt thou ask questions about what is none of
thy business?' He beat her till she was well-nigh senseless, and
she cried out, 'By Allah, I will ask thee no more questions, and
indeed I repent sincerely!' And she kissed his hands and feet.
Then he unlocked the door and went out and told the company what
had happened, whereat they rejoiced, and mourning was changed
into joy and gladness. So the merchant learnt good management
from a cock, and he and his wife lived happily until death.
And thou, O my daughter," added the Vizier, "except thou desist
from this thing, I will do with thee even as the merchant did
with his wife." "I will never desist," answered she, "nor is it
this story that can turn me from my purpose; and an thou yield
not to me, I will go up myself to the King and complain to him of
thee, in that thou grudges the like of me to the like of him."
Quoth her father, "Must it be so?" And she answered "Yes." So
being weary of striving with her and despairing of turning her
from her purpose, he went up to King Shehriyar and kissing the
earth before him, told him about his daughter and how she would
have him give her to him that next night; whereat the King
marvelled and said to him, "How is this? By Him who raised up the
heavens, if thou bring her to me, I shall say to thee on the
morrow, 'Take her and put her to death.' And if thou kill her
not, I will kill thee without fail." "O king of the age,"
answered the Vizier, "it is she who will have it so; and I told
her all this, but she will not hear me and insists upon passing
this night with thy highness." "It is well," answered Shehriyar;
"go and make her ready, and tonight bring her to me." So the
Vizier returned to his daughter and told her what had passed,
saying, "May God not bereave us of thee!" But Shehrzad rejoiced
with an exceeding joy and made ready all that she needed, and
said to her sister Dunyazad, "O my sister, note well what I shall
enjoin thee. When I go up to the Sultan, I will send after thee,
and when thou comest to me and seest that the King has done his
will of me, do thou say to me, 'O my sister, an thou be not
asleep, tell us some of thy delightful stories, to pass away the
watches of this our night.' Do this and (God willing) it shall be
the means of my deliverance and of the ridding of the folk of
this calamity, and by it I will turn the King from his custom."
Dunyazad answered, "It is well." And the Vizier carried Shehrzad
to the King, who took her to his bed and fell to toying with her.
But she wept, and he said to her, "Why dost thou weep?" "O king
of the age," answered she, "I have a young sister and I desire to
take leave of her this night and that she may take leave of me
before the morning." So he sent for Dunyazad, and she waited till
the Sultan had done his desire of her sister and they were all
three awake, when she coughed and said, "O my sister, an thou be
not asleep, tell us one of thy pleasant stories, to beguile the
watches of our night, and I will take leave of thee before the
morning." "With all my heart," answered Shehrzad, "if the good
king give me leave." The King being wakeful, was pleased to hear
a story and said, "Tell on." Whereat she rejoiced greatly and
said, "It is related, O august king, that
THE MERCHANT AND THE GENIE.
There was once a merchant, who had much substance and traded
largely in foreign countries. One day, as he was riding through a
certain country, whither he had gone to collect what was due to
him, there overtook him the heat of the day and presently he
espied a garden[FN#8] before him; so he made towards it for
shelter and alighting, sat down under a walnut tree, by a spring
of water. Then he put his hand to his saddle bags and took out a
cake of bread and a date and ate them and threw away the date
stone, when behold, there started up before him a gigantic Afrit,
with a naked sword in his hand, who came up to him and said,
'Arise, that I may slay thee, even as thou hast slain my son.'
'How did I slay thy son?' asked the merchant, and the genie
replied, 'When thou threwest away the date stone, it smote my
son, who was passing at the time, on the breast, and he died
forthright.' When the merchant heard this, he said, 'Verily we
are God's and to Him we return! There is no power and no virtue
but in God, the Most High, the Supreme! If I killed him, it was
by misadventure, and I prithee pardon me.' But the genie said,
'There is no help for it but I must kill thee.' Then he seized
him and throwing him down, raised his sword to strike him:
whereupon the merchant wept and said, 'I commit my affair to
God!' and recited the following verses:
Fate has two days, untroubled one, the other lowering, And life
two parts, the one content, the other sorrowing.
Say unto him that taunteth us with fortune's perfidy, 'At whom
but those whose heads are high doth Fate its arrows fling?'
If that the hands of Time have made their plaything of our life,
Till for its long protracted kiss ill-hap upon us spring,
Dost thou not see the hurricane, what time the wild winds blow,
Smite down the stately trees alone and spare each lesser
thing?
Lo! in the skies are many stars, no one can tell their tale, But
to the sun and moon alone eclipse brings darkening.
The earth bears many a pleasant herb and many a plant and tree:
But none is stoned save only those to which the fair fruit
cling.
Look on the sea and how the waifs float up upon the foam, But in
its deepest depths of blue the pearls have sojourning.
'Cut short thy speech,' said the genie, 'for, by Allah, there is
no help for it but I must kill thee.' 'Know, O Afrit,' replied
the merchant, 'that I have a wife and children and much
substance, and I owe debts and hold pledges: so let me return
home and give every one his due, and I vow by all that is most
sacred that I will return to thee at the end of the year, that
thou mayest do with me as thou wilt, and God is witness of what I
say.' The genie accepted his promise and released him, whereupon
he returned to his dwelling-place and paid his debts and settled
all his affairs. Moreover, he told his wife and children what had
happened and made his last dispositions, and tarried with his
family till the end of the year. Then he rose and made his
ablutions[FN#9] and took his winding sheet under his arm and
bidding his household and kinsfolk and neighbours farewell, set
out, much against his will, to perform his promise to the genie;
whilst his family set up a great noise of crying and lamentation.
He journeyed on till he reached the garden, where he had met with
the genie, on the first day of the new year, and there sat down
to await his doom. Presently, as he sat weeping over what had
befallen him, there came up an old man, leading a gazelle by a
chain, and saluted the merchant, saying, 'What ails thee to sit
alone in this place, seeing that it is the resort of the
Jinn?'[FN#10] The merchant told him all that had befallen him
with the Afrit, and he wondered and said, 'By Allah, O my
brother, thy good faith is exemplary and thy story is a
marvellous one! If it were graven with needles on the corners of
the eye, it would serve as a warning to those that can profit by
example.' Then he sat down by his side, saying, 'By Allah, O my
brother, I will not leave thee till I see what befalls thee with
this Afrit.' So they sat conversing, and fear and terror got hold
upon the merchant and trouble increased upon him, notwithstanding
the old man's company. Presently another old man came up, leading
two black dogs, and saluting them, inquired why they sat in a
place known to be haunted by Jinn, whereupon the merchant
repeated his story to him. He had not sat long with them when
there came up a third old man leading a dappled she-mule, and
after putting to them the same question and receiving a like
answer, sat down with them to await the issue of the affair. They
had sat but a little while longer, when behold, there arose a
cloud of dust and a great whirling column approached from the
heart of the desert. Then the dust lifted and discovered the
genie, with a drawn sword in his hand and sparks of fire issuing
from his eyes. He came up to them and dragged the merchant from
amongst them, saying, 'Rise, that I may slay thee as thou slewest
my son, the darling of my heart!' Whereupon the merchant wept and
bewailed himself and the three old men joined their cries and
lamentations to his. Then came forward the first old man, he of
the gazelle, and kissed the Afrit's hand and said to him, 'O
genie and crown of the kings of the Jinn, if I relate to thee my
history with this gazelle and it seem to thee wonderful, wilt
thou grant me a third of this merchant's blood?' 'Yes, O old
man,' answered the genie, 'if thou tell me thy story and I find
it wonderful, I will remit to thee a third of his blood.' Then
said the old man, 'Know, O Afrit, that
The First Old Man's Story.
This gazelle is the daughter of my father's brother and my own
flesh and blood. I married her whilst she was yet of tender age
and lived with her near thirty years, without being blessed with
a child by her. So I took me a concubine and had by her a son
like the rising full moon, with eyes and eyebrows of perfect
beauty; and he grew up and flourished till he reached the age of
fifteen, when I had occasion to journey to a certain city, and
set out thither with great store of merchandise. Now my wife had
studied sorcery and magic from her youth: so, I being gone, she
turned my son into a calf and his mother into a cow and delivered
them both to the cowherd: and when, after a long absence, I
returned from my journey and inquired after my son and his
mother, my wife said to me, "Thy slave died and her son ran
away, whither I know not." I abode for the space of a year,
mournful-hearted and weeping-eyed, till the coming of the Greater
Festival, when I sent to the herdsman and bade him bring me a fat
cow for the purpose of sacrifice. So he brought me the very cow
into which my wife had changed my concubine by her art; and I
tucked up my skirts and taking the knife in my hand, went up to
the cow to slaughter her; but she lowed and moaned so piteously,
that I was seized with wonder and compassion and held my hand
from her and said to the herd, "Bring me another cow." "Not so!"
cried my wife. "Slaughter this one, for we have no finer nor
fatter." So I went up to her again, but she cried out, and I left
her and ordered the herdsman to kill her and skin her. So he
killed her and flayed her, but found on her neither fat nor
flesh, only skin and bone. Then I was sorry for having slain her,
when repentance availed me not; and I gave her to the herd and
said to him, "Bring me a fat calf." So he brought me my son in
the guise of a calf; and when he saw me, he broke his halter and
came up to me and fawned on me and moaned and wept, till I took
pity on him and said to the man, "Bring me a cow and let this
calf go." But my wife cried out at me and said, "Not so: thou
must sacrifice this calf and none other to-day: for it is a holy
and a blessed day, on which it behoves us to offer up none but a
good thing, and we have no calf fatter or finer than this one."
Quoth I, "Look at the condition of the cow I slaughtered by thine
order; we were deceived in her, and now I will not be persuaded
by thee to slay this calf this time." "By the great God, the
Compassionate, the Merciful," answered she, "thou must without
fail sacrifice this calf on this holy day! Else thou art no
longer my husband nor am I thy wife." When I heard this harsh
speech from her, I went up to the calf, knowing not what she
aimed at, and took the knife in my hand.'" Here Shehrzad perceived
the day and was silent; and her sister said to her, "What a
charming and delightful story!" Quoth Shehrzad, "This is nothing
to what I will tell thee to-morrow night, if the King let me
live." And the King said to himself, "By Allah, I will not kill
her, till I hear the rest of the story!" So they lay together
till morning, when the King went out to his hall of audience and
the Vizier came in to him, with the winding-sheet under his arm.
Then the King ordered and appointed and deposed, without telling
the Vizier aught of what had happened, much to the former's
surprise, until the end of the day, when the Divan broke up and
he retired to his apartments.
And when it was the second night
Dunyazad said to her sister Shehrzad, "O my sister, finish us thy
story of the merchant and the genie." "With all my heart,"
answered she, "if the King give me leave." The king bade her "Say
on." So she began as follows: "It has reached me, O august king
and wise governor, that the first old man continued his story as
follows: 'O lord of the Kings of the Jinn, as I was about to kill
the calf, my heart failed me and I said to the herdsman, "Keep
this calf with the rest of the cattle." So he took it and went
away. Next day the herd came to me, as I was sitting by myself,
and said to me, "O my lord, I have that to tell thee will rejoice
thee, and I claim a reward for good news." Quoth I, "It is well."
And he said, "O merchant, I have a daughter, who learnt the art
of magic in her youth from an old woman who lived with us, and
yesterday, when I took home the calf that thou gavest me, she
looked at it and veiled her face and fell a-weeping. Then she
laughed and said to me, 'O my father, am I become of so little
account in thine eyes that thou bringest in to me strange men?'
'Where are the strange men?' asked I. 'And why dost thou weep and
laugh?' Quoth she, 'The calf thou hast there is our master's son,
who has been enchanted, as well as his mother, by his father's
wife. This is why I laughed: and I wept for his mother, because
his father slaughtered her.' I wondered exceedingly at this and
the day had no sooner broken than I came to tell thee." When
(continued the old man) I heard the herdsman's story, O genie, I
went out with him, drunken without wine for stress of joy and
gladness, and accompanied him to his house, where his daughter
welcomed me and kissed my hand; and the calf came up to me and
fawned on me. Said I to the girl, "Is it true what I hear about
this calf?" "Yes, O my lord," answered she, "this is indeed thy
son and the darling of thy heart." So I said to her, "O damsel,
if thou wilt release him, all that is under thy father's hand of
beasts and goods shall be thine!" But she smiled and said, "O my
lord, I care not for wealth, but I will do what thou desirest
upon two conditions, the first that thou marry me to this thy
son, and the second that thou permit me to bewitch the sorceress
and imprison her (in the shape of a beast); else I shall not be
safe from her craft." I answered, "Besides what thou seekest,
thou shalt have all that is under thy father's hand, and as to my
wife, it shall be lawful to thee to shed her blood, if thou
wilt." When she heard this, she took a cup full of water, and
conjured over it; then sprinkled the calf with the water, saying,
"If thou be a calf by the creation of the Almighty, abide in that
form and change not: but if thou be enchanted, return to thine
original form, with the permission of God the Most High!" With
that he shook and became a man: and I fell upon him and said to
him, "For God's sake, tell me what my wife did with thee and thy
mother." So he told me what had befallen them and I said to
him, "O my son, God hath sent thee one to deliver and avenge
thee." Then I married him to the herdsman's daughter, and she
transformed my wife into this gazelle, saying to me, "I have
given her this graceful form for thy sake, that thou mayest look
on her without aversion." She dwelt with us days and nights and
nights and days, till God took her to Himself; and after her
death, my son set out on a journey to the land of Ind, which is
this merchant's native country; and after awhile, I took the
gazelle and travelled with her from place to place, seeking news
of my son, till chance led me to this garden, where I found this
merchant sitting weeping; and this is my story.' Quoth the genie,
'This is indeed a rare story, and I remit to thee a third part of
his blood.' Then came forward the second old man, he of the two
greyhounds, and said to the genie, 'I will tell thee my story
with these two dogs, and if thou find it still rarer and more
marvellous, do thou remit to me another third part of his blood.
Quoth the genie, 'I agree to this.' Then said the second old man,
'Know, O lord of the Kings of the Jinn, that
The Second Old Man's Story.
These two dogs are my elder brothers. Our father died and left us
three thousand dinars,[FN#11] and I opened a shop that I might
buy and sell therein, and my brothers did each the like. But
before long, my eldest brother sold his stock for a thousand
dinars and bought goods and merchandise and setting out on his
travels, was absent a whole year. One day, as I was sitting in my
shop, a beggar stopped before me and I said to him, "God assist
thee!"[FN#12] But he said to me, weeping, "Dost thou not
recognize me?" I took note of him, and behold, it was my brother.
So I rose and welcomed him and made him sit down by me and
inquired how he came in such a case: but he answered, "Do not ask
me: my wealth is wasted and fortune has turned her back on me."
Then I carried him to the bath and clad him in one of my own
suits and took him to live with me. Moreover, I cast up my
accounts and found that I had made a thousand dinars profit, so
that my capital was now two thousand dinars. I divided this
between my brother and myself, saying to him, "Put it that thou
hast never travelled nor been abroad." He took it gladly and
opened a shop with it. Presently, my second brother arose like
the first and sold his goods and all that belonged to him and
determined to travel. We would have dissuaded him, but he would
not be dissuaded and bought merchandise with which he set out on
his travels, and we saw no more of him for a whole year; at the
end of which time he came to us as had done his elder brother,
and I said to him, "O my brother, did I not counsel thee not to
travel?" And he wept and said, "O my brother, it was decreed: and
behold, I am poor, without a dirhem [FN#13] or a shirt to my
back." Then I carried him to the bath and clad him in a new suit
of my own and brought him back to my shop, where we ate and drank
together; after which, I said to him, "O my brother, I will make
up the accounts of my shop, as is my wont once a year, and the
increase shall be between thee and me." So I arose and took stock
and found I was worth two thousand dinars increase, in excess of
capital, wherefore I praised the Divine Creator and gave my
brother a thousand dinars, with which he opened a shop. In this
situation we remained for some time, till one day, my brothers
came to me and would have me go on a voyage with them; but I
refused and said to them, "What did your travels profit you, that
I should look to profit by the same venture?" And I would not
listen to them; so we abode in our shops, buying and selling, and
every year they pressed me to travel, and I declined, until six
years had elapsed. At last I yielded to their wishes and said to
them, "O my brothers, I will make a voyage with you, but first
let me see what you are worth." So I looked into their affairs
and found they had nothing left, having wasted all their
substance in eating and drinking and merrymaking. However, I said
not a word of reproach to them, but sold my stock and got in all
I had and found I was worth six thousand dinars. So I rejoiced
and divided the sum into two equal parts and said to my brothers,
"These three thousand dinars are for you and me to trade with."
The other three thousand I buried, in case what befell them
should befall me also, so that we might still have, on our
return, wherewithal to open our shops again. They were content
and I gave them each a thousand dinars and kept the like myself.
Then we provided ourselves with the necessary merchandise and
equipped ourselves for travel and chartered a ship, which we
freighted with our goods. After a month's voyage, we came to a
city, in which we sold our goods at a profit of ten dinars on
every one (of prime cost). And as we were about to take ship
again, we found on the beach a damsel in tattered clothes, who
kissed my hand and said to me, "O my lord, is there in thee
kindness and charity? I will requite thee for them." Quoth I,
"Indeed I love to do courtesy and charity, though I be not
requited." And she said, "O my lord, I beg thee to marry me and
clothe me and take me back to thy country, for I give myself to
thee. Entreat me courteously, for indeed I am of those whom it
behoves to use with kindness and consideration; and I will
requite thee therefor: do not let my condition prejudice thee."
When I heard what she said, my heart inclined to her, that what
God (to whom belong might and majesty) willed might come to pass.
So I carried her with me and clothed her and spread her a goodly
bed in the ship and went in to her and made much of her. Then we
set sail again and indeed my heart clove to her with a great love
and I left her not night nor day and occupied myself with her to
the exclusion of my brothers. Wherefore they were jealous of me
and envied me my much substance; and they looked upon it with
covetous eyes and took counsel together to kill me and to take my
goods, saying, "Let us kill our brother, and all will be ours."
And Satan made this to seem good in their eyes. So they took me
sleeping beside my wife and lifted us both up and threw us into
the sea. When my wife awoke, she shook herself and becoming an
Afriteh,[FN#14] took me up and carried me to an island, where she
left me for awhile. In the morning, she returned and said to me,
"I have paid thee my debt, for it is I who bore thee up out of
the sea and saved thee from death, by permission of God the Most
High. Know that I am of the Jinn who believe in God and His
Apostle (whom God bless and preserve!) and I saw thee and loved
thee for God's sake. So I came to thee in the plight thou knowest
of and thou didst marry me, and now I have saved thee from
drowning. But I am wroth with thy brothers, and needs must I kill
them." When I heard her words, I wondered and thanked her for
what she had done and begged her not to kill my brothers. Then I
told her all that had passed between us, and she said, "This very
night will I fly to them and sink their ship and make an end of
them." "God on thee," answered I, "do not do this, for the
proverb says, 'O thou who dost good to those who do evil, let his
deeds suffice the evil doer!' After all, they are my brothers."
Quoth she, "By Allah, I must kill them." And I besought her till
she lifted me up and flying away with me, set me down on the roof
of my own house, where she left me. I went down and unlocked the
doors and brought out what I had hidden under the earth and
opened my shop, after I had saluted the folk and bought goods. At
nightfall, I returned home and found these two dogs tied up in
the courtyard: and when they saw me, they came up to me and wept
and fawned on me. At the same moment, my wife presented herself
and said to me, "These are thy brothers." "Who has done this
thing unto them?" asked I; and she answered, "I sent to my
sister, who turned them into this form, and they shall not be
delivered from the enchantment till after ten years." Then she
left me, after telling me where to find her; and now, the ten
years having expired, I was carrying the dogs to her, that she
might release them, when I fell in with this merchant, who
acquainted me with what had befallen him. So I determined not to
leave him, till I saw what passed between thee and him: and this
is my story.' 'This is indeed a rare story,' said the genie, 'and
I remit to thee a third part of his blood and his crime.' Then
came forward the third old man, he of the mule, and said, 'O
genie, I will tell thee a story still more astonishing than the
two thou hast heard, and do thou remit to me the remainder of his
blood and crime.' The genie replied, 'It is well.' So the third
old man said, 'Know, O Sultan and Chief of the Jinn, that
The Third Old Man's Story.
This mule was my wife. Some time ago, I had occasion to travel
and was absent from her a whole year; at the end of which time I
returned home by night and found my wife in bed with a black
slave, talking and laughing and toying and kissing and dallying.
When she saw me, she made haste and took a mug of water and
muttered over it; then came up to me and sprinkled me with the
water, saying, "Leave this form for that of a dog!" And
immediately I became a dog. She drove me from the house, and I
went out of the door and ceased not running till I came to a
butcher's shop, where I stopped and began to eat the bones. The
butcher took me and carried me into his house; but when his
daughter saw me, she veiled her face and said to her father, "How
is it that thou bringest a man in to me?" "Where is the man?"
asked he; and she replied, "This dog is a man, whose wife has
enchanted him, and I can release him." When her father heard
this, he said, "I conjure thee by Allah, O my daughter, release
him!" So she took a mug of water and muttered over it, then
sprinkled a little of it on me, saying, "Leave this shape and
return to thy former one." And immediately I became a man again
and kissed her hand and begged her to enchant my wife as she had
enchanted me. So she gave me a little of the water and said to
me, "When thou seest her asleep, sprinkle her with this water and
repeat the words thou hast heard me use, naming the shape thou
wouldst have her take, and she will become whatever thou
wishest." So I took the water and returned home and went in to my
wife. I found her asleep and sprinkled the water upon her,
saying, "Quit this form for that of a mule." And she at once
became a mule; and this is she whom thou seest before thee, O
Sultan and Chief of the Kings of the Jinn!' Then he said to the
mule, 'Is it true?' And she nodded her head and made signs as who
should say, 'Yes, indeed: this is my history and what befell
me.'" Here Shehrzad perceived the day and was silent. And
Dunyazad said to her, "O my sister, what a delightful story is
this of thine!" "This is nothing," answered Shehrzad, "to what I
will tell thee to-morrow night, if the King let me live." Quoth
the King to himself, "By Allah, I will not put her to death till
I hear the rest of her story, for it is wonderful." And they lay
together till the morning. Then the King rose and betook himself
to his audience-chamber, and the Vizier and the troops presented
themselves and the Court was full. The King judged and appointed
and deposed and ordered and forbade till the end of the day, when
the Divan broke up and he returned to his apartments.
And when it was the third night
and the King had taken his will of the Vizier's daughter,
Dunyazad said to her sister, "O my sister, finish us thy story."
"With all my heart," answered Shehrzad. "Know, O august King,
that when the genie heard the third old man's story, he marvelled
exceedingly and shook with delight and said, 'I remit to thee the
remainder of his crime.' Then he released the merchant, who went
up to the three old men and thanked them; and they gave him joy
of his escape and returned, each to his own country. Nor is this
more wonderful than the story of the Fisherman and the Genie."
"What is that?" asked the King: and she said, "I have heard tell,
O august King, that
THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIE.
There was once a poor fisherman, who was getting on in years and
had a wife and three children; and it was his custom every day to
cast his net four times and no more. One day he went out at the
hour of noon and repaired to the sea-shore, where he set down his
basket and tucked up his skirts and plunging into the sea, cast
his net and waited till it had settled down in the water. Then he
gathered the cords in his hand and found it heavy and pulled at
it, but could not bring it up. So he carried the end of the cords
ashore and drove in a stake, to which he made them fast. Then he
stripped and diving round the net, tugged at it till he brought
it ashore. Whereat he rejoiced and landing, put on his clothes;
but when he came to examine the net, he found in it a dead ass;
and the net was torn. When he saw this, he was vexed and said:
'There is no power and no virtue save in God the Most High, the
Supreme! This is indeed strange luck!' And he repeated the
following verses:
O thou that strivest in the gloom of darkness and distress, Cut
short thine efforts, for in strife alone lies not success!
Seest not the fisherman that seeks his living in the sea, Midmost
the network of the stars that round about him press!
Up to his midst he plunges in: the billows buffet him; But from
the bellying net his eyes cease not in watchfulness;
Till when, contented with his night, he carries home a fish,
Whose throat the hand of Death hath slit with trident
pitiless,
Comes one who buys his prey of him, one who has passed the night,
Safe from the cold, in all delight of peace and blessedness.
Praise be to God who gives to this and cloth to that deny! Some
fish, and others eat the fish caught with such toil and
stress.
Then he said, 'Courage! I shall have better luck next time,
please God!' And repeated the following verses:
If misfortune assail thee, clothe thyself thereagainst With
patience, the part of the noble: 'twere wiselier done.
Complain not to men: that were indeed to complain, To those that
have no mercy, of the Merciful One.
So saying, he threw out the dead ass and wrung the net and spread
it out. Then he went down into the sea and cast again, saying,
'In the name of God!' and waited till the net had settled down in
the water, when he pulled the cords and finding it was heavy and
resisted more than before, thought it was full of fish. So he
made it fast to the shore and stripped and dived into the water
round the net, till he got it free. Then he hauled at it till he
brought it ashore, but found in it nothing but a great jar full
of sand and mud. When he saw this, he groaned aloud and repeated
the following verses:
Anger of Fate, have pity and forbear, Or at the least hold back
thy hand and spare!
I sally forth to seek my daily bread And find my living vanished
into air.
How many a fool's exalted to the stars, Whilst sages hidden in
the mire must fare!
Then he threw out the jar and wrung out and cleansed his net:
after which he asked pardon of God the Most High[FN#15] and
returning to the sea a third time, cast the net. He waited till
it had settled down, then pulled it up and found in it potsherds
and bones and broken bottles: whereat he was exceeding wroth and
wept and recited the following verses:
Fortune's with God: thou mayst not win to bind or set it free:
Nor letter-lore nor any skill can bring good hap to thee.
Fortune, indeed, and benefits by Fate are lotted out: One
country's blest with fertile fields, whilst others sterile
be.
The shifts of evil chance cast down full many a man of worth And
those, that merit not, uplift to be of high degree.
So come to me, O Death! for life is worthless verily; When
falcons humbled to the dust and geese on high we see.
'Tis little wonder if thou find the noble-minded poor, What while
the loser by main force usurps his sovranty.
One bird will traverse all the earth and fly from East to West:
Another hath his every wish although no step stir he.
Then he lifted his eyes to heaven and said, 'O my God, Thou
knowest that I cast my net but four times a day; and now I have
cast it three times and have taken nothing. Grant me then, O my
God, my daily bread this time!' So he said, 'In the name of God!'
and cast his net and waited till it had settled down in the
water, then pulled it, but could not bring it up, for it was
caught in the bottom Whereupon, 'There is no power and no virtue
but in God!' said he and repeated the following verses:
Away with the world, if it be like this, away! My part in it's
nought but misery and dismay!
Though the life of a man in the morning be serene, He must drink
of the cup of woe ere ended day.
And yet if one asked, 'Who's the happiest man alive?' The people
would point to me and 'He' would say.
Then he stripped and dived down to the net and strove with it
till he brought it to shore, where he opened it and found in it a
brazen vessel, full and stoppered with lead, on which was
impressed the seal of our lord Solomon, son of David (on whom be
peace!). When he saw this, he was glad and said, 'I will sell
this in the copper market, for it is worth half a score diners.'
Then he shook it and found it heavy and said to himself, 'I
wonder what is inside! I will open it and see what is in it,
before I sell it.' So he took out a knife and worked at the
leaden seal, till he extracted it from the vessel and laid it
aside. Then he turned the vase mouth downward and shook it, to
turn out its contents; but nothing came out, and he wondered
greatly and laid it on the ground. Presently, there issued from
it a smoke, which rose up towards the sky and passed over the
face of the earth; then gathered itself together and condensed
and quivered and became an Afrit, whose head was in the clouds
and his feet in the dust. His head was like a dome, his hands
like pitchforks, his legs like masts, his mouth like a cavern,
his teeth like rocks, his nostrils like trumpets, his eyes like
lamps, and he was stern and lowering of aspect. When the
fisherman saw the Afrit, he trembled in every limb; his teeth
chattered and his spittle dried up and he knew not what to do.
When the Afrit saw him, he said, 'There is no god but God, and
Solomon is His prophet! O prophet of God, do not kill me, for I
will never again disobey thee or cross thee, either in word or
deed !' Quoth the fisherman, 'O Marid,[FN#16] thou sayest,
"Solomon is the prophet of God." Solomon is dead these eighteen
hundred years, and we are now at the end of time. But what is thy
history and how comest thou in this vessel?' When the Marid heard
this, he said, 'There is no god but God! I have news for thee, O
fisherman!' 'What news?' asked he, and the Afrit answered, 'Even
that I am about to slay thee without mercy.' 'O chief of the
Afrits,' said the fisherman, 'thou meritest the withdrawal of
God's protection from thee for saying this! Why wilt thou kill me
and what calls for my death? Did I not deliver thee from the
abysses of the sea and bring thee to land and release thee from
the vase?' Quoth the Afrit, 'Choose what manner of death thou
wilt die and how thou wilt be killed.' 'What is my crime?' asked
the fisherman. 'Is this my reward for setting thee free?' The
Afrit answered, 'Hear my story, O fisherman!' 'Say on and be
brief,' quoth he, 'for my heart is in my mouth.' Then said the
Afrit, 'Know, O fisherman, that I was of the schismatic Jinn and
rebelled against Solomon son of David (on whom be peace!), I and
Sekhr the genie; and he sent his Vizier Asef teen Berkhiya, who
took me by force and bound me and carried me, in despite of
myself, before Solomon, who invoked God's aid against me and
exhorted me to embrace the Faith[FN#17] and submit to his
authority: but I refused. Then he sent for this vessel and shut
me up in it and stoppered it with lead and sealed it with the
Most High Name and commanded the Jinn to take me and throw me
into the midst of the sea. There I remained a hundred years, and
I said in my heart, "Whoso releaseth me, I will make him rich for
ever." But the hundred years passed and no one came to release
me, and I entered on another century and said, "Whoso releaseth
me, I will open to him the treasures of the earth" But none
released me, and other four hundred years passed over me, and I
said, "Whoso releaseth me, I will grant him three wishes." But no
one set me free. Then I was exceeding wroth and said to myself,
"Henceforth, whoso releaseth me, I will kill him and let him
choose what death he will die." And now, thou hast released me,
and I give thee thy choice of deaths.' When the fisherman heard
this, he exclaimed, 'O God, the pity of it that I should not have
come to release thee till now!' Then he said to the Afrit, 'Spare
me, that God may spare thee, and do not destroy me, lest God set
over thee one who will destroy thee.' But he answered, 'There is
no help for it, I must kill thee: so choose what death thou wilt
die.' The fisherman again returned to the charge, saying, 'Spare
me for that I set thee free.' 'Did I not tell thee,' replied the
Marid, 'that is why I kill thee?' 'O head of the Afrits,' said
the fisherman, 'I did thee a kindness, and thou repayest me with
evil: indeed the proverb lieth not that saith:
"We did them good, and they the contrary returned: And this, upon
my life, is what the wicked do!
Who helps those, that deserve it not, shall be repaid As the
hyæna paid the man that helped her through."'
'Make no more words about it,' said the Afrit; 'thou must die.'
Quoth the fisherman to himself, 'This is a genie, and I am a man;
and God hath given me a good wit. So I will contrive for his
destruction by my wit and cunning, even as he plotted mine of his
craft and perfidy.' Then he said to the Afrit, 'Is there no help
for it, but thou must kill me?' He answered, 'No,' and the
fisherman said, 'I conjure thee, by the Most High Name graven
upon the ring of Solomon son of David (on whom be peace!), answer
me one question truly.' When the Afrit heard him mention the Most
High Name, he was agitated and trembled and replied, 'It is well:
ask and be brief.' Quoth the fisherman, 'This vessel would not
suffice for thy hand or thy foot: so how could it hold the whole
of thee?' Said the Afrit, 'Dost thou doubt that I was in it?'
'Yes,' answered the fisherman; 'nor will I believe it till I see
it with my own eyes.'" Here Shehrzad perceived the day and was
silent.
And when it was the fourth night[FN#18]
Dunyazad said to her sister, "O sister, an thou be not asleep,
finish us thy story." So Shehrzad began, "I have heard tell, O
august King, that, when he heard what the fisherman said, the
Afrit shook and became a smoke over the sea, which drew together
and entered the vessel little by little, till it was all inside.
Whereupon the fisherman made haste to take the leaden stopper and
clapping it on the mouth of the vessel, called out to the Afrit,
saying, 'Choose what death thou wilt die! By Allah, I will throw
thee back into the sea and build myself a house hard by, and all
who come hither I will warn against fishing here, and say to
them, "There is an Afrit in these waters, that gives those who
pull him out their choice of deaths and how he shall kill them."'
When the Afrit heard this and found himself shut up in the
vessel, he knew that the fisherman had outwitted him and strove
to get out, but could not, for Solomon's seal prevented him; so
he said to the fisherman, 'I did but jest with thee.' 'Thou
liest, O vilest and meanest and foulest of Afrits!' answered he,
and rolled the vessel to the brink of the sea; which when the
Afrit felt, he cried out, 'No! No!' And the fisherman said, 'Yes!
Yes!' Then the Afrit made his voice small and humbled himself and
said, 'What wilt thou do with me, O fisherman?' 'I mean to throw
thee back into the sea,' replied he; 'since thou hast lain there
already eighteen hundred years, thou shalt lie there now till the
hour of judgment. Did I not say to thee, "Spare me, so God may
spare thee; and do not kill me, lest God kill thee?" but thou
spurnedst my prayers and wouldst deal with me no otherwise than
perfidiously. So I used cunning with thee and now God has
delivered thee into my hand.' Said the Afrit, 'Let me out, that I
may confer benefits on thee.' The fisherman answered, 'Thou
liest, O accursed one! Thou and I are like King Younan's Vizier
and the physician Douban.' 'Who are they,' asked the Afrit, 'and
what is their story?' Then said the fisherman, 'Know, O Afrit,
that
Story of the Physician Douban.
There was once in a city of Persia a powerful and wealthy king,
named Younan, who had guards and troops and auxiliaries of every
kind: but he was afflicted with a leprosy, which defied the
efforts of his physicians and wise men. He took potions and
powders and used ointments, but all to no avail, and not one of
the doctors could cure him. At last, there came to the King's
capital city a great physician, stricken in years, whose name was
Douban: and he had studied many books, Greek, ancient and modern,
and Persian and Turkish and Arabic and Syriac and Hebrew, and was
skilled in medicine and astrology, both theoretical and
practical. Moreover he was familiar with all plants and herbs and
grasses, whether harmful or beneficial, and was versed in the
learning of the philosophers; in brief, he had made himself
master of all sciences, medical and other. He had not been long
in the town before he heard of the leprosy with which God had
afflicted the King, and of the failure of the physicians and men
of science to cure him; whereupon he passed the night in study;
and when the day broke and the morning appeared and shone, he
donned his richest apparel and went in to the King and kissing
the ground before him, wished him enduring honour and fair
fortune, in the choicest words at his command. Then he told him
who he was and said to him, "O King, I have learnt what has
befallen thee in thy person and how a multitude of physicians
have failed to find a means of ridding thee of it: but I will
cure thee, O King, and that without giving thee to drink of
medicine or anointing thee with ointment." When the King heard
this, he wondered and said to him, "How wilt thou do this? By
Allah, if thou cure me, I will enrich thee, even to thy
children's children, and I will heap favours on thee, and
whatever thou desirest shalt be shine, and thou shalt be my
companion and my friend." Then he gave him a dress of honour and
made much of him, saying, "Wilt thou indeed cure me without drugs
or ointment?" "Yes," answered Douban, "I will cure thee from
without." Whereat the King marvelled exceedingly and said, "O
physician, when wilt thou do as thou hast said? Make haste, O my
son!" Quoth Douban, "I hear and obey: it shall be done tomorrow."
And he went down into the city and hired a house, in which he
deposited his books and medicines. Then he took certain drugs and
simples and fashioned them into a mall, which he hollowed out and
made thereto a handle and a ball, adapted to it by his art. Next
morning he presented himself before the King and kissing the
ground before him, ordered him to repair to the tilting ground
and play at mall there. So the King mounted and repaired thither
with his amirs and chamberlains and viziers, and hardly had he
reached the appointed place when the physician Douban came up and
presented him with the mall and ball he had prepared, saying,
"Take this mall and grip the handle thus and drive into the plain
and stretch thyself well and strike this ball till thy hand and
thy body sweat, when the drugs will penetrate thy hand and
permeate thy body. When thou hast done and the medicine has
entered into thee, return to thy palace and enter the bath and
wash. Then sleep awhile and thou wilt awake cured, and peace be
on thee!" The King took the mall and mounting a swift horse,
threw the ball before him and drove after it with all his might
and smote it: and his hand gripped the mall firmly. And he ceased
not to drive after the bail and strike it, till his hand and all
his body sweated, and Douban knew that the drugs had taken effect
upon him and ordered him to return and enter the bath at once. So
the King returned immediately and ordered the bath to be emptied
for him. They turned the people out of the bath, and his servants
and attendants hastened thither and made him ready change of
linen and all that was necessary: and he went in and washed
himself well and put on his clothes. Then he came out of the bath
and went up to his palace and slept there. When he awoke, he
looked at his body and found it clean as virgin silver, having no
trace left of the leprosy: whereat he rejoiced exceedingly and his
breast expanded with gladness. Next morning, he repaired to the
Divan and sat down on his chair of estate, and the chamberlains
and grandees attended on him. Presently, the physician Douban
presented himself and kissed the earth before the king and
repeated the following verses:
The virtues all exalted are, when thou art styled their sire:
None else the title dares accept, of all that men admire.
Lord of the radiant brow, whose light dispels the mists of doubt
From every goal of high emprize whereunto folk aspire,
Ne'er may thy visage cease to shine with glory and with joy,
Although the face of Fate should gloom with unremitting ire!
Even as the clouds pour down their dews upon the thirsting hills,
Thy grace pours favour on my head, outrunning my desire.
With liberal hand thou casteth forth thy bounties far and nigh,
And so hast won those heights of fame thou soughtest to
acquire.
The King rose to him in haste and embraced him and made him sit
down and clad him in a splendid dress of honour. Then tables of
rich food were brought in, and Douban ate with the King and
ceased not to bear him company all that day. When it was night,
the King gave him two thousand diners, besides other presents,
and mounted him on his own horse; and the physician returned to
his lodging, leaving the King astonished at his skill and saying,
"This man cured me from without, without using ointments. By
Allah, this is none other than consummate skill! And it behoves
me to honour and reward him and make him my companion and bosom
friend to the end of time." The King passed the night in great
content, rejoicing in the soundness of his body and his
deliverance from his malady. On the morrow, he went out and sat
down on his throne; and the grandees stood before him, whilst the
amirs and viziers sat on his right hand and on his left. Then he
sent for the physician, who came and kissed the ground before
him, whereupon the King rose to him and made him sit by his side
and eat with him, and ceased not to converse with him and make
much of him till night; when he commanded five dresses of honour
and a thousand diners to be given to him, and he returned to his
house, well contented with the King. Next morning, the King
repaired as usual to his council-chamber, and the amirs and
viziers and chamberlains took their places round him. Now he had
among his viziers one who was forbidding of aspect, sordid,
avaricious and envious: a man of ill omen, naturally inclined to
malevolence: and when he saw the esteem in which the King held
Douban and the favours he bestowed on him, he envied him and
plotted evil against him; for, as says the byword, "Nobody is
free from envy"--and again--"Tyranny is latent in the soul:
weakness hides it and strength reveals it." So he came to the
King and kissed the earth before him and said to him "O King of
the age, thou in whose bounties I have grown up, I have a grave
warning to give thee, which did I conceal from thee, I were a son
of shame: wherefore, if thou command me to impart it to thee, I
will do so." Quoth the King (and indeed the Vizier's words
troubled him), "What is thy warning?" "O illustrious King,"
answered the Vizier, "the ancients have a saying, 'Whoso looks
not to the issue of events, fortune is no friend of his :' and
indeed I see the King in other than the right way, in that he
favours his enemy, who seeks the downfall of his kingdom, and
makes much of him and honours him exceedingly and is beyond
measure familiar with him: and of a truth I am fearful for the
King." Quoth King Younan (and indeed he was troubled and his
colour changed), "Of whom dost thou speak?" The Vizier answered,
"If thou sleepest, awake. I mean the physician Douban." "Out on
thee!" said the King. "He is my true friend and the dearest of
all men to me; seeing that he medicined me by means of a thing I
held in my hand and cured me of my leprosy, which the doctors
were unable to cure; and there is not his like to be found in
this time, no, not in the whole world, East nor West; and it is
of him that thou speakest thus! But from to-day I will assign him
stipends and allowances and appoint him a thousand diners a
month: and if I should share my kingdom with him, it were but a
little thing. Methinks thou sayest this out of pure envy and
wouldst have me kill him and after repent, as King Sindbad
repented the killing of his falcon." "Pardon me, O King of the
age," said the Vizier, "but how was that! Quoth the King, "It is
said that
King Sindbad and His Falcon.
There was once a King of Persia, who delighted in hunting; and he
had reared a falcon, that left him not day or night, but slept
all night long, perched upon his hand. Whenever he went out to
hunt, he took the falcon with him; and he let make for it a cup
of gold to hang round its neck, that he might give it to drink
therein. One day, his chief falconer came in to him and said, 'O
King, now is the time to go a-hunting.' So the King gave orders
accordingly and took the falcon on his wrist and set out,
accompanied by his officers and attendants. They rode on till
they reached a valley, where they formed the circle of the chase,
and behold, a gazelle entered the ring; whereupon quoth the King,
'Whoso lets the gazelle spring over his head, I will kill him.'
Then they drew the ring closelier round her, and behold, she came
to the King's station and standing still, put her forelegs to her
breast, as if to kill the earth before him. He bowed to her, but
she sprang over his head and was off into the desert. The King
saw his attendants nodding and winking to one another about him
and said to his Vizier, 'O Vizier, what say my men?' 'They say,'
answered the Vizier, that thou didst threaten to kill him over
whose head the gazelle should spring.' 'As my head liveth,'
rejoined the King, 'I will follow her up, till I bring her back!'
So he pricked on after her and followed her till he came to a
mountain and she made for her lair; but the King cast off the
falcon, which swooped down on her and pecked at her eyes, till he
blinded her and dazed her; whereupon the King threw his mace at
her and brought her down. Then he alighted and cut her throat and
skinned her and made her fast to his saddle-bow. Now it was the
hour of midday rest and the place, where he was, was desert, and
the King was athirst and so was his horse. So he searched till he
saw a tree, with water dripping slowly, like oil, from its
branches. Now the King's hands were gloved with leather;[FN#19]
so he took the cup from the falcon's neck and filled it with the
liquid and set it before himself, when behold, the falcon smote
the cup and overturned it. The King took it and refilled it with
the falling drops and set it before the bird, thinking that it
was athirst: but it smote it again and overturned it. At this,
the King was vexed with the falcon and rose and filled the cup a
third time and set it before the horse: but the falcon again
overturned it with its wing. Then said the King, 'God confound
thee, thou most mischievous of fowls, thou wilt neither drink
thyself nor let me nor the horse drink!' And he smote it with his
sword and cut off its wings: whereupon it erected its head and
made signs as who should say, 'Look what is at the top of the
tree.' The King raised his eyes and saw at the top of the tree a
brood of snakes, and this was their venom dripping, which he had
taken for water. So he repented him of having cut off the
falcon's wings and mounting, rode on till he reached his tents
and gave the gazelle to the cook to roast. Then he sat down on
his chair, with the falcon on his wrist: and presently the bird
gasped and died: whereupon the King cried out in sorrow and
lament for having slain the bird that had saved him from death,
and repented him when repentance availed him not. This, then, is
the story of King Sindbad; and as for thee, O Vizier, envy hath
entered into thee, and thou wouldst have me kill the physician
and after repent, even as King Sindbad repented." "O mighty
King," answered the Vizier, "what harm has this physician done me
that I should wish his death? Indeed I only do this thing in
compassion for thee and that thou mayst know the truth of the
matter: else may I perish as perished the Vizier who plotted to
destroy the king his master's son." "How was that? asked the
King, and the Vizier replied, "Know, O King, that
The King's Son and the Ogress.
There was once a King's son who was passionately fond of the
chase; and his father had charged one of his Viziers to attend
him wherever he went. One day, the prince went out to hunt,
accompanied by the Vizier, and as they were going along, they saw
a great wild beast, whereupon the Vizier said to the prince, 'Up
and after yonder beast!' So the prince rode after the beast and
followed it, till he was lost to sight. After awhile, the beast
disappeared in the desert, and the prince found himself alone,
not knowing which way to turn. Presently he came upon a damsel,
weeping, and said to her, 'Who art thou?' Quoth she, 'I am the
daughter of one of the Kings of India, and I was journeying
through this country, with a company of people, when sleep
overcame me and I fell from my horse, not knowing what I did. My
people did not note my fall and went on and left me; and now I am
alone and bewildered.' When the prince heard this, he had pity on
her case and took her up behind himself and they rode on, till
they came to some ruins; when she said to him, 'O my lord, I wish
to do an occasion here.' So he put her down, and she entered the
ruins and tarried there till he became impatient and went in
search of her; when he was ware that she was an ogress, and heard
her say to her children, 'O my children, I have brought you to
day a fat youth.' 'O mother,' answered they, 'bring him to us,
that we may browse on him our bellyful.' When the prince heard
this their talk, he trembled in every nerve and made sure of
destruction and turned back. The ogress came out after him and
finding him terrified and trembling, said to him, 'Why dost thou
fear?' Quoth he, 'I have an enemy, of whom I am in fear.' 'Didst
thou not say that thou wast a King's son?' asked she, and he
answered 'Yes.' 'Then,'said she, 'why dost thou not give thine
enemy money and so appease him?' He replied, 'Indeed he will not
be satisfied with money nor with aught but life; and I fear him
and am an oppressed man.' 'If thou be oppressed as thou sayst,'
rejoined she, 'ask help of God; surely He will protect thee from
thine enemy and from the mischief thou fearest from him.' So the
prince raised his eyes to heaven and said, 'O Thou that answerest
the prayer of the distressed, when they call on Thee, and
dispellest evil from them, O my God, succour me against mine
enemy and turn him back from me, for Thou indeed canst do
whatsoever Thou wilt.' When the ogress heard his prayer, she
departed from him and he resumed to the King his father and
informed him of the Vizier's conduct: whereupon the King sent for
the latter and put him to death. And thou, O King" (continued the
envious Vizier), "if thou put thy trust in this physician, he
will kill thee in the foulest fashion. He, verily, whom thou hast
favoured and admitted to thy friendship, plots thy destruction:
for know that he is a spy come from a far land with intent to
destroy thee. Seest thou not that he cured thee of thy distemper
from without, by means of a thing held in thy hand, and how canst
thou be sure that he will not kill thee by some like means?"
"Thou speakest sooth, O Vizier of good counsel!" said the King.
"It must indeed be as thou sayst; this physician doubtless comes
as a spy, seeking to destroy me; and indeed, if he could cure me
by means of a handle held in my hand, he can kill me by means of
something I shall smell. But what is to be done with him?" "Send
after him at once," answered the Vizier, "and when he comes,
strike off his head and play him false, ere he play thee false;
and so shalt thou ward off his mischief and be at peace from
him." "Thou art right, O Vizier," rejoined the King and sent for
the physician, who came, rejoicing, for he knew not what the
Compassionate had decreed unto him. As the saying runs:
Thou that fearest ill fortune, be of good heart and hope! Trust
thine affairs to Him who fashioned the earth and sea!
What is decreed of God surely shall come to pass; That which is
not decreed never shall trouble thee.
When Douban entered, he recited the following verses:
If all the thanks I speak come short of that which is your due,
Say for whom else my verse and prose I make except for you?
You have indeed prevented me with many an unasked boon, Blest me,
unhindered of excuse, with favours not a few.
How then should I omit to give your praise its full desert And
celebrate with heart and voice your goodness ever new?
I will indeed proclaim aloud the boons I owe to you, Favours,
that, heavy to the hack, are light the thought unto.
And also the following:
Avert thy face from trouble and from care And trust in God to
order thine affair.
Rejoice in happy fortune near at hand, In which thou shalt forget
the woes that were.
Full many a weary and a troublous thing Is, in its issue,
solaceful and fair.
God orders all according to His will: Oppose Him not in what He
doth prepare.
And these also:
Trust thine affairs to the Subtle, to God that knoweth all, And
rest at peace from the world, for nothing shall thee appal.
Know that the things of the world not, as thou wilt, befall, But
as the Great God orders, to whom all kings are thrall!
And lastly these:
Take heart and rejoice and forget thine every woe, For even the
wit of the wise is eaten away by care.
What shall thought-taking profit a helpless, powerless slave?
Leave it and be at peace in joy enduring fore'er!
When he had finished, the King said to him, "Dost thou know why I
have sent for thee?" And the physician answered, "None knoweth
the hidden things save God the Most High." Quoth the King, "I
have sent for thee to kill thee and put an end to thy life."
Douban wondered greatly at these words and said, "O King,
wherefore wilt thou kill me and what offence have I committed?"
"I am told," replied Younan, "that thou art a spy and comest to
kill me, but I will kill thee first." Then he cried out to his
swordbearer, saying, "Strike off the head of this traitor and rid
us of his mischief!" "Spare me," said Douban; "so may God spare
thee; and kill me not, lest God kill thee!" And he repeated these
words to him, even as I did to thee, O Afrit, and thou wouldst
not spare me, but persistedst in thine intent to put me to death.
Then the King said to Douban, "Verily I shall not be secure
except I kill thee: for thou curedst me by means of a handle I
held in my hand, and I have no assurance but thou wilt kill me by
means of perfumes or otherwise." "O King," said Douban, "is this
my reward from thee? Thou returnest evil for good?" The King
replied, "It boots not: thou must die and that without delay."
When the physician saw that the King was irrevocably resolved to
kill him, he wept and lamented the good he had done to the
undeserving, blaming himself for having sown in an ungrateful
soil and repeating the following verses:
Maimouneh has no wit to guide her by, Although her sire among the
wise ranks high.
The man, who has no sense to rule his steps, Slips, he the ground
he treads on wet or dry.
Then the swordbearer came forward and bandaged his eyes and
baring his sword, said to the King, "Have I thy leave to strike?"
Whereupon the physician wept and said, "Spare me, so God may
spare thee: and kill me not, lest God kill thee!" And he recited
the following verses:
I acted in good faith and they betrayed: I came to nought: They
prospered, whilst my loyalty brought me to evil case.
If that I live, I will to none good counsel give again: And if I
die, good counsellors be curst of every race!
And he said to the King, "Is this my reward from thee? Thou
givest me the crocodile's recompense." Quoth the King, "What is
the story of the crocodile?" "I cannot tell it," answered Douban,
"and I in this case; but, God on thee, spare me, so may He spare
thee!" And he wept sore. Then one of the King's chief officers
rose and said, "O King, grant me this man's life, for we see not
that he has committed any offence against thee nor that he has
done aught but cure thee of thy disorder, which baffled the
doctors and sages." "Ye know not why I put him to death,"
answered the King: "it is because I believe him to be a spy, who
hath been suborned to kill me and came hither with that intent:
and verily he who cured me by means of a handle held in my hand
can easily poison me in like manner. If I spare him, he will
infallibly destroy me: so needs must I kill him, and then I shall
feel myself safe." When the physician was convinced that there
was no hope for him, but that the King would indeed put him to
death, he said to the latter, "O King, if thou must indeed kill
me, grant me a respite, that I may go to my house and discharge
my last duties and dispose of my medical books and give my people
and friends directions for my burial. Among my books is one that
is a rarity of rarities, and I will make thee a present of it,
that thou mayst lay it up in thy treasury." "And what is in this
book?" asked the King. Quoth Douban, "It contains things without
number: the least of its secret virtues is that if, when thou
hast cut off my head, thou open the book, turn over six leaves
and read three lines of the left-hand page, my head will speak
and answer whatever questions thou shalt ask it." At this the
King marvelled greatly and shook with delight and said, "O
physician, will thy head indeed speak to me, after it is cut
off?" And he answered, "Yes, O King." Quoth the King, "This is
indeed wonderful!" And sent him under guard to his house, where
Douban spent the remainder of the day in setting his affairs in
order. Next day, the amirs and viziers and chamberlains and all
the great officers and notables of the kingdom came to the court,
and the presence chamber was like a flower garden. Presently the
physician entered, bearing an old book and a small pot full of
powder; and sitting down, called for a dish. So they brought him
a dish, and he poured the powder therein and levelled it. Then he
said, "O King, take this book, but do not open it till my head
has been cut off, placed on this dish and pressed down on the
powder, when the blood will cease to flow: then open the book and
do as I have enjoined thee." The King took the book and gave the
signal to the headsman, who rose and struck off the physician's
head and set it on the dish, pressing it down upon the powder,
when the blood immediately ceased to flow, and the head unclosed
its eyes and said, "Open the book, O King!" Younan opened the
book and found the leaves stuck together; so he put his finger to
his mouth and took of his spittle and loosened them therewith and
turned over the pages in this manner, one after another, for the
leaves would not come apart but with difficulty, till he came to
the seventh page, but found nothing written thereon and said to
the head, "O physician, there is nothing here." Quoth the head,
"Open more leaves." So the King turned over more leaves in the
same manner. Now the book was as poisoned, and before long the
poison began to work upon the King, and he fell back in
convulsions and cried out, "I am poisoned!" Whereupon the head
repeated the following verses:
Lo, these once were kings who governed with a harsh and haughty
sway! In a little, their dominion was as if it ne'er had
been.
Had they swayed the sceptre justly, they had been repaid the
like, But they were unjust, and Fortune guerdoned them with
dole and teen.
Now they're passed away, the moral of their case bespeaks them
thus, "This is what your sins have earnt you: Fate is not to
blame, I ween."
No sooner had it done speaking, than the King fell down dead and
the head also ceased to live. And know, O Afrit (continued the
fisherman), that if King Younan had spared the physician Douban,
God would have spared him; but he refused and sought his death;
so God killed him. And thou, O Afrit, if thou hadst spared me, I
would spare thee; but nothing would serve thee but thou must put
me to death; so now I will kill thee by shutting thee up in this
vessel and throwing thee into the sea.' At this the Marid roared
out and said, 'God on thee, O fisherman, do not do that! Spare me
and bear me not malice for what I did, for men's wit is still
better than that of Jinn. If I did evil, do thou good, in
accordance with the adage, "O thou that dost good to him that
does evil, the deed of the evil-doer suffices him." Do not thou
deal with me as did Umameh with Aatikeh.' 'And what did Umameh
with Aatikeh?' asked the fisherman. But the Afrit answered, 'This
is no time to tell stories, and I in this duresse: let me out,
and I will tell thee.' Quoth the fisherman, 'Leave this talk: I
must and will throw thee into the sea, and thou shalt never win
out again; for I besought thee and humbled myself to thee, but
nothing would serve thee but thou must kill me, who had committed
no offence against thee deserving this nor done thee any ill, but
only kindness, in that I delivered thee from duresse. When thou
didst thus by me, I knew thee for an incorrigible evil-doer; and
know that, when I have thrown thee back into the sea, I will tell
every one what happened between me and thee and warn him, to the
end that whoever fishes thee up may throw thee in again; and thou
shalt remain in the sea till the end of time and suffer all
manner of torments.' Quoth the Afrit, 'Let me out, for this is
the season of generosity; and I will make a compact with thee
never to do thee hurt and to help thee to what shall enrich
thee.' The fisherman accepted his proposal and unsealed the
vessel, after he had taken the Afrit's pledge and made him swear
by the Most High Name never to hurt him, but on the contrary to
do him service. Then the smoke ascended as before and gathered
itself together and became an Afrit, who gave the vessel a kick
and sent it into the sea. When the fisherman saw this, he let fly
in his clothes and gave himself up for lost, saying, 'This bodes
no good.' But he took courage and said to the Afrit, 'O Afrit,
quoth God the Most High, "Be ye faithful to your covenants, for
they shall be enquired of:" and verily thou madest a pact with me
and sworest to me that thou wouldst do me no hurt. So play me not
false, lest God do the like with thee: for indeed He is a jealous
God, who delayeth to punish, yet letteth not the evil-doer
escape. And I say to thee, as said the physician Douban to King
Younan, "Spare me, so God may spare thee!"' The Afrit laughed and
started off inland, saying to the fisherman, 'Follow me.' So he
followed him, trembling and not believing that he should escape,
and the Afrit led him to the backward of the town: then crossing
a hill, descended into a spacious plain, in the midst of which
was a lake of water surrounded by four little hills. He led the
fisherman into the midst of the lake, where he stood still and
bade him throw his net and fish. The fisherman looked into the
water and was astonished to see therein fish of four colours,
white and red and blue and yellow. Then he took out his net and
cast and drawing it in, found in it four fish, one of each
colour. At this he rejoiced, and the Afrit said to him, 'Carry
them to the Sultan and present them to him, and he will give thee
what shall enrich thee. And accept my excuse, for I know not any
other way to fulfil my pro mise to thee, having lain in yonder
sea eighteen hundred years and never seen the surface of the
earth till this time. But do not fish here more than once a day;
and I commend thee to God's care!' So saying, he struck the earth
with his foot, and it opened and swallowed him up, whilst the
fisherman returned, wondering at all that had befallen him, to
his house, where he took a bowl of water and laid therein the
fish, which began to frisk about. Then he set the bowl on his
head and going up to the palace, as the Afrit had bidden him,
presented the fish to the King, who wondered at them greatly, for
that he had never seen their like, in shape or kind, and said to
his Vizier, 'Give these fish to the cookmaid that the King of the
Greeks sent us, and tell her to fry them.' Now this was a damsel
that he had received as a present from the King of the Greeks
three days before and of whom he had not yet made trial in
cookery. So the Vizier carried the fish to the cookmaid and said
to her, 'These fish have been brought as a present to the Sultan
and he says to thee, "O my tear, I have reserved thee against my
stress!" So do thou show us to-day thy skill and the excellence
of thy cookery.' Then he returned to the Sultan, who bade him
give the fisherman four hundred diners. So he gave them to him
and he took the money in his lap and set off home, running and
stumbling and falling and rising again and thinking that he was
dreaming. And he bought what was needful for his family and
returned to his wife, glad and happy. Meanwhile the cookmaid took
the fish and cleaned them and set the frying-pan on the fire.
Then she poured in oil of sesame and waited till it was hot, when
she put in the fish. As soon as one side was done, she fumed
them, when lo, the wall of the kitchen opened and out came a
handsome and well-shaped young lady, with smooth cheeks and
liquid black eyes.[FN#20] She was clad in a tunic of satin,
yarded with spangles of Egyptian gold, and on her head she had a
silken kerchief, fringed with blue. She wore rings in her ears
and bracelets on her wrists and rings on her fingers, with
beazels of precious stones, and held in her hand a rod of Indian
cane. She came up to the brazier and thrust the rod into the
frying-pan saying 'O fish, are you constant to your covenant?'
And when the cookmaid heard this she swooned away. Then the
damsel repeated her question a second and a third time; and the
fish lifted up their heads and cried out with one voice, 'Yes,
yes:
Return, and we return: keep faith, and so will we: Or, if thou
wilt, forsake, and we'll do like to thee!'
With this the damsel overturned the frying-pan and went out by
the way she had come, and the wall closed up again as before.
Presently the cookmaid came to herself and seeing the four fish
burnt black as coal, said, 'My arms are broken in my first
skirmish!' And fell down again in a swoon. Whilst she was in this
state, in came the Vizier, to seek the fish, and found her
insensible, not knowing Saturday from Thursday. So he stirred her
with his foot and she came to herself and wept and told him what
had passed. He marvelled and said, 'This is indeed a strange
thing !' Then he sent for the fisherman and said to him, 'O
fisherman, bring us four more fish of the same kind.' So the
fisherman repaired to the lake and cast his net and hauling it
in, found in it four fish like the first and carried them to the
Vizier, who took them to the cookmaid and said to her, 'Come, fry
them before me, that I may see what happens.' So she cleaned the
fish and setting the frying-pan on the fire, threw them into it:
and they had not lain long before the wall opened and the damsel
appeared, after the same fashion, and thrust the rod into the
pan, saying, 'O fish, O fish, are you constant to the old
covenant?' And behold the fish all lifted up their heads and
cried out as before, 'Yes, yes:
Return, and we return: keep faith, and so will we: Or, if thou
wilt, forsake, and we'll do like to thee!'
Then she overturned the pan and went out as she had come and the
wall closed up again. When the Vizier saw this, he said, 'This is
a thing that must not be kept from the King. So he went to him
and told him what he had witnessed; and the King said, 'I must
see this with my own eyes.' Then he sent for the fisherman and
commanded him to bring him other four fish like the first; and
the fisherman went down at once to the lake and casting his net,
caught other four fish and returned with them to the King, who
ordered him other four hundred diners and set a guard upon him
till he should see what happened. Then he turned to the Vizier
and said to him, 'Come thou and fry the fish before me.' Quoth
the Vizier, 'I hear and obey.' So he fetched the frying-pan and
setting it on the fire, cleaned the fish and threw them in: but
hardly had he turned them, when the wall opened, and out came a
black slave, as he were a mountain or one of the survivors of the
tribe of Aad,[FN#21] with a branch of a green tree in his hand:
and he said, in a terrible voice, 'O fish, O fish, are you
constant to the old covenant?' Whereupon they lifted up their
heads and cried out' 'Yes, yes; we are constant:
Return, and we return: keep faith, and so will we: Or, if thou
wilt, forsake, and we'll do like to thee!'
Then the slave went up to the pan and overturning it with the
branch, went out as he had come, and the wall closed up as
before. The King looked at the fish and found them black as coal;
whereat he was bewildered and said to the Vizier, 'This is a
thing about which it is impossible to keep silence; and indeed
there must be some strange circumstance connected with these
fish.' Then he sent for the fisherman and said to him, 'Hark ye,
sirrah, whence hadst thou those fish?' 'From a lake between four
hills,' answered he, 'on the thither side of the mountain behind
the city.' 'How many days' journey hence?' asked the King; and
the fisherman said, 'O my lord Sultan, half an hour's journey.'
At this the King was astonished and ordering the troops to mount,
set out at once, followed by his suite and preceded by the
fisherman, who began to curse the Afrit. They rode on over the
mountain and descended into a wide plain, that they had never
before set eyes on, whereat they were all amazed. Then they fared
on till they came to the lake lying between the four hills and
saw the fish therein of four colours, red and white and yellow
and blue. The King stood and wondered and said to his attendants,
'Has any one of you ever seen this lake before?' But they
answered, 'Never did we set eyes on it in all our lives, O King
of the age.' Then he questioned those stricken in years, and they
made him the same answer. Quoth he, 'By Allah, I will not return
to my capital nor sit down on my chair of estate till I know the
secret of this pond and its fish!' Then he ordered his people to
encamp at the foot of the hills and called his Vizier, who was a
man of learning and experience, sagacious and skilful in
business, and said to him, 'I mean to go forth alone to-night and
enquire into the matter of the lake and these fish: wherefore do
thou sit down at the door of my pavilion and tell the amirs and
viziers and chamberlains and officers and all who ask after me
that the Sultan is ailing and hath ordered thee to admit no one,
and do thou acquaint none with my purpose.' The Vizier dared not
oppose his design; so the King disguised himself and girt on his
sword and going forth privily, took a path that led over one of
the hills and fared on all that night and the next day, till the
heat overcame him and he paused to rest. Then he set out again
and fared on the rest of that day and all the next night, till on
the morning of the second day, he caught sight of some black
thing in the distance, whereat he rejoiced and said, 'Belike I
shall find some one who can tell me the secret of the lake and
the fish.' So he walked on, till he came to the black object,
when he found it a palace built of black stone, plated with iron;
and one leaf of its gate was open and the other shut. At this the
King rejoiced and went up to the gate and knocked lightly, but
heard no answer. So he knocked a second time and a third time,
with the same result. Then he knocked loudly, but still no one
answered; and he said to himself, 'It must be deserted.' So he
took courage and entering the vestibule, cried out, 'Ho, people
of the palace! I am a stranger and a wayfarer and hungry. Have ye
any victual?' He repeated these words a second and a third time,
but none answered. So he took heart and went on boldly into the
interior of the palace, which he found hung and furnished with
silken stuffs, embroidered with stars of gold, and curtains let
down before the doors. In the midst was a spacious courtyard,
with four estrades, one on each side, and a bench of stone.
Midmost the courtyard was a great basin of water, from which
sprang a fountain, and at the corners stood four lions of red
gold, spouting forth water as it were pearls and jewels; and the
place was full of birds, which were hindered from flying away by
a network of gold stretched overhead. The King looked right and
left, but there was no one to be seen; whereat he marvelled and
was vexed to find none of whom he might enquire concerning the
lake and the fish and the palace itself. So he returned to the
vestibule and sitting down between the doors, fell to musing upon
what he had seen, when lo, he heard a moaning that came from a
sorrowful heart, and a voice chanted the following verses:
I hid what I endured from thee: it came to light, And sleep was
changed to wake thenceforward to my sight.
O Fate, thou sparest not nor dost desist from me; Lo, for my
heart is racked with dolour and affright!
Have pity, lady mine, upon the great laid low, Upon the rich made
poor by love and its despite!
Once, jealous of the breeze that blew on thee, I was, Alas! on
whom Fate falls, his eyes are veiled with night.
What boots the archer's skill, if, when the foe draws near, His
bow-string snap and leave him helpless in the fight?
So when afflictions press upon the noble mind, Where shall a man
from Fate and Destiny take flight?
When the King heard this, he rose and followed the sound and
found that it came from behind a curtain let down before the
doorway of a sitting-chamber. So he raised the curtain and saw a
young man seated upon a couch raised a cubit from the ground. He
was a handsome well-shaped youth, with flower-white forehead and
rosy cheeks and a black mole, like a grain of ambergris, on the
table of his cheek, as says the poet:
The slender one! From his brow and the night of his jetty hair,
The world in alternate gloom and splendour of day doth fare.
Blame not the mole on his cheek. Is an anemone's cup Perfect,
except in its midst an eyelet of black it wear?
He was clad in a robe of silk, laced with Egyptian gold, and had
on his head a crown set with jewels, but his face bore traces of
affliction. The King rejoiced when he saw him and saluted him;
and the youth returned his salute in the most courteous wise,
though without rising, and said to him, 'O my lord, excuse me if
I do not rise to thee, as is thy due; indeed, I am unable to do
so.' 'I hold thee excused, O youth!' answered the King. 'I am thy
guest and come to thee on a pressing errand, beseeching thee to
expound to me the mystery of the lake and the fish and of this
palace, and why thou sittest here alone and weeping.' When the
young man heard this, the tears ran down his cheeks and he wept
sore, till his breast was drenched, and repeated the following
verses:
Say unto those that grieve, at whom doth Fate her arrows cast,
"How many an one hath she raised up but to lay low at last!
Lo, if ye sleep, the eye of God is never closed in sleep. For
whom indeed is life serene, for whom is Fortune fast?"
Then he gave a heavy sigh and repeated the following:
Trust thine affair to the Ruler of all that be
And put thought-taking and trouble away from thee:
Say not of aught that is past, "How came it so?"
All things depend upon the Divine decree.
The King marvelled and said to him, 'What makes thee weep, O
youth?' 'How should I not weep,' answered he 'being in such a
plight?' Then he put out his hand and lifted the skirt of his
robe, and behold, he was stone from the waist downward. When the
King saw this his condition, he grieved sore and lamented and
cried out, 'Alas! alas!' and said, 'Verily, O youth, thou addest
trouble to my trouble. I came to enquire concerning the fish; and
now I am concerned to know thy history also. But there is no
power and no virtue save in God the Most High, the Supreme!
Hasten therefore, O youth, and expound to me thy story.' Quoth
the youth, 'Give me thine ears and understanding:' and the King
replied, 'I am all attention.' Then said the youth, 'There hangs
a strange story by these fish and by myself, a story which, were
it graven with needles on the corners of the eye,[FN#22] would
serve as a warning to those who can profit by example. 'How so ?'
asked the King and the youth replied, 'Know, O my lord, that
Story of the Enchanted Youth.
My father was King of the city that stood in this place, and his
name was Mohammed, Lord of the Black Islands, which are no other
than the four hills of which thou wottest. He reigned seventy
years, at the end of which time God took him to Himself, and I
succeeded to his throne and took to wife the daughter of my
father's brother, who loved me with an exceeding love, so that,
whenever I was absent from her, she would neither eat nor drink
till she saw me again. With her I lived for five years, till one
day she went out to go to the bath, and I bade the cook hasten
supper for us against her return. Then I entered the palace and
lay down on the bed where we were wont to lie and ordered two
slave-girls to sit, one at my head and the other at my feet, and
fan me. Now I was disturbed at my wife's absence and could not
sleep, but remained awake, although my eyes were closed.
Presently I heard the damsel at my head say to the other one, "O
Mesoudeh, how unhappy is our lord and how wretched is his youth,
and oh, the pity of him with our accursed harlot of a mistress!"
"Yes, indeed," replied Mesoudeh; "may God curse all unfaithful
women and adulteresses! Indeed, it befits not that the like of
our lord should waste his youth with this harlot, who lies abroad
every night." Quoth the other, "Is our lord then a fool, that,
when he wakes in the night and finds her not by his side, he
makes no enquiry after her?" "Out on thee," rejoined Mesoudeh;
"has our lord any knowledge of this or does she leave him any
choice? Does she not drug him every night in the cup of drink she
gives him before he sleeps, in which she puts henbane? So he
sleeps like a dead man and knows nothing of what happens. Then
she dresses and scents herself and goes forth and is absent till
daybreak, when she returns and burns a perfume under his nose and
he awakes." When I heard the girls' talk, the light in my eyes
became darkness, and I thought the night would never come.
Presently, my wife returned from the bath, and they served up
supper and we ate and sat awhile drinking and talking as usual.
Then she called for my sleeping-draught and gave me the cup: and
I feigned to drink it, but made shift to pour it into my bosom
and lay down at once and began to snore as if I slept. Then said
she, "Sleep out thy night and never rise again! By Allah, I hate
thee and I hate thy person; I am sick of thy company and I know
not when God will take away thy life!" Then she rose and donned
her richest clothes and perfumed herself and girt on my sword and
opened the palace gate and went out. I rose and followed her, and
she passed through the streets of the city, till she came to the
gate, when she muttered words I understood not: and straight-way
the locks fell off and the gate opened. She went forth and fared
on among the rubbish heaps, I still following her without her
knowledge, till she came to a reed fence, within which was a hut
of brick. She entered the hut and I climbed up on the roof and
looking down, saw my wife standing by a scurvy black slave, with
blubber lips, one of which overlapped the other, like a coverlet,
and swept up the sand from the gravel floor, lying upon a bed of
sugar-cane refuse and wrapped in an old cloak and a few rags. She
kissed the earth before him, and he raised his head to her and
said, "Out on thee! why hast thou tarried till now? There have
been some of my kinsmen the blacks here, drinking; and they have
gone away, each with his wench; but I refused to drink on account
of thine absence." "O my lord and my love and solace of my eyes,"
answered she, "dost thou not know that I am married to my cousin,
and that I hate to look upon him and abhor myself in his company.
Did I not fear for thy sake, I would not let the sun rise again
till his city was a heap of ruins wherein the owl and the raven
should hoot and wolves and foxes harbour; and I would transport
its stones behind the mountain Caf."[FN#23] "Thou liest, O
accursed one!" said the black, "and I swear by the valour of the
blacks (else may our manhood be as that of the whites!) that if
thou tarry again till this hour, I will no longer keep thee
company nor join my body to thine! O accursed one, wilt thou play
fast and loose with us at thy pleasure, O stinkard, O bitch, O
vilest of whites?" When I heard and saw what passed between them,
the world grew dark in my eyes and I knew not where I was; whilst
my wife stood weeping and humbling herself to him and saying, "O
my love and fruit of my heart, if thou be angry with me, who is
left me, and if thou reject me, who shall shelter me, O my
beloved and light of mine eyes?" And she ceased not to weep and
implore him till he forgave her. Then she was glad and rose and
putting off her clothes, said to the slave, "O my lord, hast thou
aught here for thy handmaid to eat?" "Take the cover off yonder
basin," answered he; "thou wilt find under it cooked rats' bones,
and there is a little millet beer left in this pot. Eat and
drink." So she ate and drank and washed her hands and mouth; then
lay down, naked, upon the rushes, beside the slave, and covered
herself with the rags. When I saw this, I became as one
distraught and coming down from the roof, went in by the door.
Then I took the sword she had brought and drew it, thinking to
kill them both. I struck first at the slave's neck and thought I
had made an end of him; but the blow only severed the flesh and
the gullet, without dividing the jugulars. He gave a loud
gurgling groan and roused my wife, whereupon I drew back, after I
had restored the sword to its place, and resuming to the palace,
lay down on my bed till morning, when my wife came and awoke me,
and I saw that she had cut off her hair and put on mourning
garments. "O my cousin," said she, "do not blame me for this I
have done; for I have news that my mother is dead, that my father
has fallen in battle and that both my brothers are dead also, one
of a snake-bite and the other of a fall from a precipice, so that
I have good reason to weep and lament." When I heard this, I did
not reproach her, but said to her, "Do what thou wilt: I will not
baulk thee." She ceased not to mourn and lament for a whole year,
at the end of which time she said to me, "I wish to build me in
thy palace a tomb with a cupola and set it apart for mourning and
call it House of Lamentations." Quoth I, "Do what seemeth good to
thee." So she built herself a house of mourning, roofed with a
dome, and a monument in the midst like the tomb of a saint.
Thither she transported the slave and lodged him in the tomb. He
was exceeding weak and from the day I wounded him he had remained
unable to do her any service or to speak or do aught but drink;
but he was still alive, because his hour was not yet come. She
used to visit him morning and evening in the mausoleum and carry
him wine and broths to drink and weep and make moan over him; and
thus she did for another year, whilst I ceased not to have
patience with her and pay no heed to her doings, till one day I
came upon her unawares and found her weeping and saying, "Why art
thou absent from my sight, O delight of my heart? Speak to me, O
my life! speak to me, O my love!" And she recited the following
verses:
My patience fails me for desire: if thou forgettest me, My heart
and all my soul can love none other after thee.
Carry me with thee, body and soul, wherever thou dost fare, And
where thou lightest down to rest, there let me buried be.
Speak but my name above my tomb; the groaning of my bones,
Turning towards thy voice's sound, shall answer drearily.
And she wept and recited the following:
My day of bliss is that whereon thou drawest near to me; And that
whereon thou turn'st away, my day of death and fear.
What though I tremble all the night and be in dread of death, Yet
thine embraces are to me than safety far more dear.
And again the following:
Though unto me were given all that can make life sweet, Though
the Chosroes empire, yea, and the world were mine,
All were to me in value less than a midge's wing, If that mine
eyes must never look on that face of thine!
When she had finished, I said to her, "O my cousin, let thy
mourning suffice thee: for weeping profiteth nothing." She
replied, "Thwart me not, or I will kill myself." So I held my
peace and let her go her way: and she ceased not to mourn and
weep for the space of another year. At the end of the third year,
I came into the mausoleum one day, vexed at something that had
crossed me and weary of this excessive affliction, and found her
by the tomb under the dome, saying, "O my lord, I never hear thee
speak to me, no, not one word. Why dost thou not answer me, O my
lord?" And she recited the following verses:
O tomb, O tomb, have his beauties ceased, or does thy light
indeed, The sheen of the radiant countenance, no more in
thee abound?
O tomb, O tomb, thou art neither earth nor heaven unto me: How
comes it then that sun and moon at once in thee are found?
When I heard this, it added wrath to my wrath, and I said, "Alas!
how much more of this mourning?" and I repeated the following
[parody of her] verses:
O tomb, O tomb, has his blackness ceased, or does thy light
indeed, The sheen of the filthy countenance, no more in thee
abound?
O tomb, thou art neither kitchen-stove nor sewer-pool for me! How
comes it then that mire and coal at once in thee are found?
When she heard this, she sprang to her feet and said, "Out on
thee, thou dog! it was thou that didst thus with me and woundedst
the beloved of my heart and hast afflicted me and wasted his
youth, so that these three years he hath lain, neither dead nor
alive!" "O foulest of harlots and filthiest of whorish doxies of
hired slaves," answered I, "it was indeed I who did this!" And I
drew my sword and made at her to kill her; but she laughed and
said, "Avaunt, thou dog! Thinkst thou that what is past can recur
or the dead come back to life? Verily, God has given into my hand
him who did this to me and against whom there was in my heart
fire that might not be quenched and insatiable rage." Then she
stood up and pronouncing some words I did not understand, said to
me, "Let one half of thee by my enchantments become stone and the
other half remain man." And immediately I became as thou seest me
and have remained ever since neither sitting nor standing and
neither dead nor alive. Then she enchanted the city with all its
streets and gardens and turned it into the lake thou wottest of,
and the inhabitants, who were of four religions, Muslims,
Christians, Magians and Jews, she changed to fish of various
colours, the Muslims white, the Christians blue, the Magians red
and the Jews yellow; and the four islands she turned into four
mountains encompassing the lake. Moreover, the condition to which
she has reduced me does not suffice her: but every day she strips
me and gives me a hundred lashes with a whip, so that the blood
runs down me and my shoulders are torn. Then she clothes my upper
half in a shirt of hair-cloth and over that she throws these rich
robes.' And he wept and repeated the following verses:
Lord, I submit myself to Thee and eke to Fate, Content, if so
Thou please, to suffer and to wait.
My enemies oppress and torture me full sore: But Paradise at
last, belike, shall compensate.
Though Fate press hard on me, I trust in the Elect,[FN#24] The
Accepted One of God, to be my advocate.
With this the King turned to him and said, 'O youth, after having
rid me of one trouble, thou addest another to me: but tell me,
where is thy wife and where is the wounded slave?' 'The slave
lies in the tomb under the dome,' answered the youth, 'and she is
in the chamber over against the gate. Every day at sunrise, she
comes out and repairs first to me and strips off my clothes and
gives me a hundred strokes with the whip; and I weep and cry out,
but cannot stir to keep her off. When she has done torturing me,
she goes down to the slave with the wine and broth on which she
feeds him; and to-morrow at sunrise she will come.' 'O youth,'
rejoined the King, 'by Allah, I will assuredly do thee a service
by which I shall be remembered and which men shall chronicle to
the end of time!' Then he sat down by the youth and talked with
him till nightfall, when they went to sleep. At peep of day, the
King rose and put off his clothes and drawing his sword, repaired
to the mausoleum, where, after noting the paintings of the place
and the candles and Lamps and perfumes burning there, he sought
for the slave till he came upon him and slew him with one blow of
the sword; after which he took the body on his back and threw it
into a well that was in the palace. Then he returned to the dome
and wrapping himself in the black's clothes, lay down in his
place, with his drawn sword by his side. After awhile, the
accursed enchantress came out and, going first to her husband,
stripped him and beat him with the whip, whilst he cried out,
'Alas! the state I am in suffices me. Have mercy on me, O my
cousin!' But she replied, 'Didst thou show me any mercy or spare
my beloved?' And beat him till she was tired and the blood ran
from his sides. Then she put the hair shirt on him and the royal
robes over it, and went down to the dome with a goblet of wine
and a bowl of broth in her hands. When she came to the tomb, she
fell a-weeping and wailing and said, 'O my lord, speak to me!'
And repeated the following verse:
How long ere this rigour pass sway and thou relent? Is it not yet
enough of the tears that I have spent?'
And she wept and said again, 'O my lord, speak to me!' The King
lowered his voice and knotting his tongue, spoke after the
fashion of the blacks and said, 'Alack! alack! there is no power
and no virtue but in God the Most High the Supreme!' When she
heard this, she screamed out for joy and swooned away; and when
she revived, she said, 'O my lord, can it be true and didst thou
indeed speak to me?' The King made his voice small and said, 'O
accursed woman, thou deservest not that I should speak to thee!'
'Why so?' asked she; and he replied, 'Because all day thou
tormentest thy husband and his cries disturb me, and all night
long he calls upon God for help and invokes curses on thee and me
and keeps me awake from nightfall to daybreak and disquiets me;
and but for this, I had been well long ago. This is what has
hindered me from answering thee.' Quoth she, 'With thy leave, I
will release him from his present condition.' 'Do so,' said the
King, 'and rid us of his noise.' 'I hear and obey,' answered she,
and going out into the palace, took a cup full of water and spoke
over it certain words, whereupon the water began to boil and
bubble as the cauldron bubbles over the fire. Then she went up to
the young King and sprinkled him with it, saying, 'By the virtue
of the words I have spoken, if thou art thus by my spells, quit
this shape for thy former one.' And immediately he shook and rose
to his feet, rejoicing in his deliverance, and said, 'I testify
that there is no god but God and that Mohammed is His apostle,
may God bless and preserve him!' Then she said to him, 'Depart
hence and do not return, or I will kill thee.' And she screamed
out in his face. So he went out from before her, and she returned
to the dome and going down into the tomb, said, 'O my lord, come
forth to me, that I may see thy goodly form!' The King replied in
a weak voice, 'What hast thou done? Thou hast rid me of the
branch, but not of the root.' 'O my beloved, O my little black,'
said she, 'what is the root?' 'Out on thee, O accursed one!'
answered he. 'Every night, at the middle hour, the people of the
city, whom thou by thine enchantments didst change into fish,
lift up their heads from the water and cry to God for help and
curse thee and me; and this is what hinders my recovery: so do
thou go quickly and set them free, and after return and take me
by the hand and raise me up; for indeed health returns to me.'
When she heard this speech of the King, whom she supposed to be
the slave, she rejoiced and said, 'O my lord, on my head and eyes
be it, in the name of God!' Then she went out, full of joy, and
ran to the lake and taking a little of the water in her hand,
spoke over it words that might not be understood, whereupon there
was a great stir among the fish; and they raised their heads to
the surface and stood upright and became men as before. Thus was
the spell dissolved from the people of the city and the lake
became again a populous city, with its streets and bazaars, in
which the merchants bought and sold, and every one returned to
his employment; whilst the four hills were restored to their
original form of islands. Then the enchantress returned to the
King and said to him, 'O my lord, give me thy noble hand and
arise.' 'Come nearer to me,' answered he, in a faint voice. So
she came close to him, and he took his sword and smote her in the
breast, that the steel came forth, gleaming, from her back. He
smote her again and cut her in twain, and she fell to the ground
in two halves. Then he went out and found the young King standing
awaiting him and gave him joy of his deliverance, whereupon the
youth rejoiced and thanked him and kissed his hand. Quoth the
Sultan, 'Wilt thou abide in this thy city or come with me to
mine?' 'O King of the age,' rejoined he, 'dost thou know how far
it is from here to thy capital?' And the Sultan replied, 'Two
and a half days' journey.' 'O King,' said the other, 'if thou
sleepest, awake! Between thee and thy capital is a full year's
journey to a diligent traveller; and thou hadst not come hither
in two days and a half, save that the city was enchanted. But, O
King, I will never leave thee, no, not for the twinkling of an
eye!' The Sultan rejoiced at his words and said, 'Praised be God,
who hath bestowed thee upon me! Thou shalt be my son, for in all
my life I have never been blessed with a son.' And they embraced
each other and rejoiced with exceeding great joy. Then they
returned to the palace, and the young King bade his officers make
ready for a journey and prepare his baggage and all that he
required. The preparations occupied ten days, at the end of which
time the young King set out in company of the Sultan, whose heart
burned within him at the thought of his long absence from his
capital, attended by fifty white slaves and provided with
magnificent presents. They journeyed day and night for a whole
year, and God ordained them safety, till they drew near the
Sultan's capital and sent messengers in advance to acquaint the
Vizier with his safe arrival. Then came out the Vizier and the
troops, who had given up all hope of the Sultan's return, and
kissed the ground before him and gave him joy of his safety. So
he entered his palace and sat down on his throne and the Vizier
came in to him, to whom he related all that had befallen him with
the young King: and the Vizier gave the latter joy of his
deliverance. Then all things being set in order, the Sultan gave
largesse to many of his people and sending for the fisherman who
had brought him the enchanted fish and had thus been the first
cause of the delivery of the people of the Black Islands,
bestowed on him a dress of honour and enquired of his condition
and whether he had any children, to which he replied that he had
three children, two daughters and one son. So the King sent for
them and taking one daughter to wife, married the other to the
young King and made the son his treasurer. Moreover, he invested
his Vizier with the sovereignty of the Black Islands and
despatched him thither with the fifty officers, who had
accompanied the young King thence, giving him robes of honour for
all the amirs. So the Vizier kissed hands and set out for the
Black Islands. The fisherman became the richest man of his time,
and he and his daughters and the two Kings their husbands abode
in peace till death came to them.
THE PORTER AND THE THREE LADIES OF
BAGHDAD.
There was once a porter of Baghdad who was a bachelor. One day,
as he stood in the market, leant upon his basket, there came to
him a lady, swathed in a wrapper of gold embroidered muslin,
fringed with gold lace, and wearing embroidered boots and
floating tresses plaited with silk and gold. She stopped before
him and raising her kerchief, showed a pair of languishing black
eyes of perfect beauty, bordered with long drooping lashes. Then
she turned to the porter and said, in a clear sweet voice, 'Take
thy basket and follow me.' No sooner had she spoken than he took
up his basket in haste, saying, 'O day of good luck! O day of
God's grace!' and followed her till she stopped and knocked at
the door of a house, when there came out a Nazarene, to whom she
gave a dinar, and he gave her in return an olive-green bottle,
full of wine, which she put into the basket, saying to the
porter, 'Hoist up and follow me.' Said he, 'By Allah, this is
indeed a happy and fortunate day!' And shouldering the basket,
followed her till she came to a fruiterer's, where she bought
Syrian apples and Turkish quinces and Arabian peaches and autumn
cucumbers and Sultani oranges and citrons, beside jessamine of
Aleppo and Damascus water-lilies and myrtle and basil and
henna-blossoms and blood-red anemones and violets and sweet-briar
and narcissus and camomile and pomegranate flowers, all of which
she put into the porter's basket, saying, 'Hoist up!' So he
shouldered the basket and followed her, till she stopped at a
butcher's shop and said to him, 'Cut me off ten pounds of meat.'
He gave her the meat, wrapped in a banana leaf, and she put it in
the basket, saying, 'Hoist up, O porter!' and went on to a
grocer's, of whom she took pistachio kernels and shelled almonds
and hazel-nuts and walnuts and sugar cane and parched peas and
Mecca raisins and all else that pertains to dessert. Thence to a
pastry-cook's, where she bought a covered dish and put therein
open-work tarts and honey-fritters and tri-coloured jelly and
march-pane, flavoured with lemon and melon, and Zeyneb's combs
and ladies' fingers and Cadi's mouthfuls and widow's bread and
meat-and-drink[FN#25] and some of every kind of sweetmeat in the
shop and laid the dish in the basket of the porter, who said to
her, 'Thou shouldst have told me, that I might have brought a
mule or a camel to carry all these good things.' She smiled and
gave him a tap on the nape, saying, 'Make haste and leave
chattering and God willing, thou shalt have a good wage.' She
stopped next at the shop of a druggist, where she bought
rose-water and water-lily water and orange-flower water and
willow-flower water and six other kinds of sweet waters and a
casting bottle of rose-water mingled with musk, besides two
loaves of sugar and frankincense and aloes-wood and ambergris and
musk and saffron and candles of Alexandrian wax, all of which she
put into the basket. Then she went on to a greengrocer's, of whom
she bought pickled safflower and olives, in brine and fresh, and
tarragon and juncates and Syrian cheese and put them all into the
basket and said to the porter, 'Take up thy basket and follow
me.' So he shouldered his load and followed her till she came to
a tall handsome house, with a spacious court before it and a
two-leaved door of ebony, inlaid with plates of glittering gold.
The lady went up to the door and throwing back her kerchief,
knocked softly, whilst the porter stood behind her, musing upon
her beauty and grace. After awhile the door opened and both the
leaves swung back; whereupon he looked to see who opened it, and
behold, it was a damsel of dazzling beauty and symmetry,
high-bosomed, with flower-white forehead and rosy cheeks, eyes
like those of gazelles or wild oxen and eyebrows like the
crescent of the new moon of Ramazan[FN#26], cheeks like blood-red
anemones, mouth like Solomon's seal, lips red as coral and teeth
like clustered pearls or camomile-petals, neck like an antelope's
and bosom like a fountain, breasts like double pomegranates,
belly like brocade and navel holding an ounce of benzoin
ointment, even as says of her the poet:
Look at her, with her slender shape and radiant beauty! this Is
she who is at once the sun and moon of palaces!
Thine eyes shall ne'er see grace combine so featly black and
white As in her visage and the locks that o'er her forehead
kiss.
She in whose cheeks the red flag waves, her beauty testifies Unto
her name, if that to paint her sweet seductions miss.
With swimming gait she walks: I laugh for wonder at her hips, But
weep to see her waist, that all too slight to bear them is.
When the porter saw her, his mind and heart were taken by storm,
so that he well-nigh let fall the basket and exclaimed, 'Never in
all my life saw I a more blessed day than this!' Then said the
portress to the cateress, 'O my Sister, why tarriest thou? Come
in from the gate and ease this poor man of his burden.' So the
cateress entered, followed by the portress and the porter, and
went on before them to a spacious saloon, elegantly built and
handsomely decorated with all manner of colours and carvings and
geometrical figures, with balconies and galleries and cupboards
and benches and closets with curtains drawn before them. In the
midst was a great basin of water, from which rose a fountain, and
at the upper end stood a couch of juniper wood, inlaid with
precious stones and surmounted by a canopy of red satin, looped
up with pearls as big as hazel-nuts or bigger. Thereon sat a lady
of radiant countenance and gentle and demure aspect, moonlike in
face, with eyes of Babylonian witchcraft and arched eyebrows,
sugared lips like cornelian and a shape like the letter I. The
radiance of her countenance would have shamed the rising sun, and
she resembled one of the chief stars of heaven or a pavilion of
gold or a high-born Arabian bride on the night of her unveiling,
even as says of her the poet:
Her teeth, when she smiles, like pearls in a cluster show, Or
shredded camomile-petals or flakes of snow:
Her ringlets seem, as it were, the fallen night, And her beauty
shames the dawn and its ruddy glow.
Then she rose and coming with a stately gait to meet her sisters
in the middle of the saloon, said to them, 'Why stand ye still?
Relieve this poor porter of his burden.' So the cateress came and
stood before and the portress behind him and with the help of the
third damsel, lifted the basket from his head and emptying it,
laid everything in its place. Then they gave him two dinars,
saying, 'Go, O porter!' But he stood, looking at the ladies and
admiring, their beauty and pleasant manners, never had he seen
goodlier, and wondering greatly at the profusion of wine and meat
and fruits and flowers and so forth that they had provided and to
see no man with them, and made no movement to go. So the eldest
lady said to him, 'What ails thee that thou dost not go away?
Belike, thou grudgest at thy pay?' And she turned to the cateress
and said to her, 'Give him another dinar.' 'No, by Allah, O
lady!' answered the porter. 'I do not indeed grudge at my pay,
for my right hire is scarce two dirhems; but of a truth my heart
and soul are taken up with you and how it is that ye are alone
and have no man with you and no one to divert you, although ye
know that women's sport is little worth without men, nor is an
entertainment complete without four at the table, and ye have no
fourth. What says the poet?
Dost thou not see that for pleasure four several things combine,
Instruments four, harp, hautboy and gittern and psaltery?
And unto these, four perfumes answer and correspond, Violets,
roses and myrtle and blood-red anemone.
Nor is our pleasure perfect, unless four things have we, Money
and wine and gardens and mistress fair and free.
And ye are three and need a fourth, who should be a man, witty,
sensible and discreet, one who can keep counsel.' When they heard
what he said, it amused them and they laughed at him and replied,
'What have we to do with that, we who are girls and fear to
entrust our secrets to those who will not keep them? For we have
read, in such and such a history, what says Ibn eth Thumam:
Tell not thy secrets: keep them with all thy might. A secret
revealed is a secret lost outright.
If thine own bosom cannot thy secrets hold, Why expect more
reserve from another wight?
Or, as well says Abou Nuwas on the same subject:
The fool, that to men doth his secrets avow, Deserves to be
marked with a brand on the brow.'
'By your lives,' rejoined the porter, 'I am a man of sense and
discretion, well read in books and chronicles. I make known what
is fair and conceal what is foul, and as says the poet:
None keeps a secret but the man who's trusty and discreet. A
secret's ever safely placed with honest folk and leal;
And secrets trusted unto me are in a locked-up house Whose keys
are lost and on whose door is set the Cadi's seal.
When the girls heard this, the eldest one said to him, 'Thou
knowest that we have laid out much money in preparing this
entertainment: hast thou aught to offer us in return? For we will
not let thee sit with us and be our boon companion and gaze on
our bright fair faces, except thou pay down thy share of the
cost. Dost thou not know the saying:
Love without money
Is not worth a penny?'
'If thou have aught, my friend,' added the portress, 'then art
thou something: but if thou have nothing, be off without
anything.' Here the cateress interposed, saying, 'O sisters, let
him be: for by Allah, he has not failed us to-day: another had
not been so patient with us. I will pay his share for him.'
Whereupon the porter, overjoyed, kissed the earth and thanked
her, saying, 'By Allah, it was thou didst handsel me this day!
Here are the two dinars I had of you: take them and admit me to
your company, not as a guest, but as a servant.' 'Sit down,'
answered they; 'thou art welcome.' But the eldest lady said,
'By Allah, we will not admit thee to our society but on one
condition; and it is that thou enquire not of what does not
concern thee; and if thou meddle, thou shalt be beaten.' Said the
porter, 'I agree to this, O my lady, on my head and eyes!
Henceforth I am dumb.' Then arose the cateress and girding her
middle, laid the table by the fountain and set out the cups and
flagons, with flowers and sweet herbs and all the requisites for
drinking. Moreover, she strained the wine and set it on; and they
sat down, she and her sisters, with the porter, who fancied
himself in a dream. The cateress took the flagon of wine and
filled a cup and drank it off. Then she filled again and gave it
to one of her sisters, who drank and filled another cup and gave
it to her other sister: then she filled a fourth time and gave it
to the porter, saying:
Drink and fare well and health attend thee still. This drink
indeed's a cure for every ill.
He took the cup in his hand and bowed and returned thanks,
reciting the following verses:
Quaff not the cup except with one who is of trusty stuff, One who
is true of thought and deed and eke of good descent.
Wine's like the wind, that, if it breathe on perfume, smells as
sweet, But, if o'er carrion it pass, imbibes its evil scent.
And again:
Drink not of wine except at the hands of a maiden fair, Who, like
unto thee and it, is joyous and debonair.
Then he kissed their hands and drank and was merry with wine and
swayed from side to side and recited the following verses:
Hither, by Allah, I conjure thee! Goblets that full of the grape
juice be!
And brim up, I prithee, a cup for me, For this is the water of
life, perdie!
Then the cateress filled the cup and gave it to the portress, who
took it from her hand and thanked her and drank. Then she filled
again and gave it to the eldest, who filled another cup and
handed it to the porter. He gave thanks and drank and recited the
following verses:
It is forbidden us to drink of any blood Except it be of that
which gushes from the vine.
So pour it out to me, an offering to thine eyes, To ransom from
thy hands my soul and all that's mine.
Then he turned to the eldest lady, who was the mistress of the
house, and said to her, 'O my lady, I am thy slave and thy
servant and thy bondman!' And repeated the following verses:
There is a slave of all thy caves now standing at thy gate Who
ceases not thy bounties all to sing and celebrate.
May he come in, O lady fair, to gaze upon thy charms? Desire and
I from thee indeed may never separate.
And she said to him, 'Drink, and health and prosperity attend
thee!' So he took the cup and kissed her hand and sang the
following verses:
I brought my love old wine and pure, the likeness of her cheeks,
Whose glowing brightness called to mind a brazier's heart of
red.
She touched the wine-cup with her lips, and laughing roguishly,
"How canst thou proffer me to drink of my own cheeks?" she
said.
"Drink!" answered I, "it is my tears; its hue is of my blood; And
it was heated at a fire that by my sighs was fed."
And she answered him with the following verse:
If, O my friend, thou hast indeed wept tears of blood for me, I
prithee, give them me to drink, upon thine eyes and head!
Then she took the cup and drank it off to her sisters' health;
and they continued to drink and make merry, dancing and laughing
and singing and reciting verses and ballads. The porter fell to
toying and kissing and biting and handling and groping and
dallying and taking liberties with them: whilst one put a morsel
into his mouth and another thumped him, and this one gave him a
cuff and that pelted him with flowers; and he led the most
delightful life with them, as if he sat in paradise among the
houris. They ceased not to drink and carouse thus, till the wine
sported in their heads and got the better of their senses, when
the portress, arose, and putting off her clothes, let down her
hair over her naked body, for a veil. Then she threw herself into
the basin and sported in the water and swam about and dived like
a duck and took water in her mouth and spurted it at the porter
and washed her limbs and the inside of her thighs. Then she came
up out of the water and throwing herself into the porter's lap,
pointed to her commodity and said to him, 'O my lord O my friend,
what is the name of this?' 'Thy kaze,' answered he; but she said,
'Fie! art thou not ashamed!' And cuffed him on the nape of the
neck. Quoth he, 'Thy catso.' And she dealt him a second cuff,
saying, 'Fie! what an ugly word! Art thou not ashamed?' 'Thy
commodity,' said he; and she, 'Fie! is there no shame in thee?'
And thumped him and beat him. Then said he, 'Thy coney.'
Whereupon the eldest fell on him and beat him, saying, 'Thou
shalt not say that.' And whatever he said, they beat him more and
more, till his neck ached again; and they made a laughing-stock
of him amongst them, till he said at last, 'Well, what is its
name amongst you women?' 'The sweet basil of the dykes,' answered
they. 'Praised be God for safety!' cried he. 'Good, O sweet basil
of the dikes!' Then they passed round the cup and presently the
cateress rose and throwing herself into the porter's lap, pointed
to her kaze and said to him, 'O light of mine eyes, what is the
name of this?' 'Thy commodity,' answered he. 'Art thou not
ashamed?' said she, and dealt him a buffet that made the place
ring again, repeating, 'Fie! Fie! art thou not ashamed?' Quoth
he, 'The sweet basil of the dykes.' 'No! No!' answered she, and
beat him and cuffed him on the nape. Then said he, 'Thy kaze, thy
tout, thy catso, thy coney.' But they replied, 'No! No!' And he
said again, 'The sweet basil of the dykes.' Whereupon they
laughed till they fell backward and cuffed him on the neck,
saying, 'No; that is not its name.' At last he said, 'O my
sisters, what is its name?' And they answered, 'What sayest thou
to the peeled barleycorn?' Then the cateress put on her clothes
and they sat down again to carouse, whilst the porter lamented
over his neck and shoulders. The cup passed round among them
awhile, and presently the eldest and handsomest of the ladies
rose and put off her clothes; whereupon the porter took his neck
in his hand and said, 'My neck and shoulders are in the way of
God!' Then she threw herself into the basin and plunged and
sported and washed; whilst the porter looked at her, naked, as
she were a piece of the moon or the full moon when she waxes or
the dawn at its brightest, and noted her shape and breasts and
her heavy quivering buttocks, for she was naked as God created
her. And he said, 'Alack!' Alack!' and repeated the following
verses:
If to the newly-budded branch thy figure I compare, I lay upon my
heart a load of wrong too great to bear;
For that the branch most lovely is, when clad upon with green,
But thou, when free of every veil, art then by far most
fair.
When she heard this, she came up out of the water and sitting
down on his knees, pointed to her kaze and said, 'O my little
lord, what is the name of this?' 'The sweet basil of the dykes,'
answered he; but she said, 'No! No!' Quoth he, 'The peeled
barleycorn.' And she said, 'Pshaw!' Then said he, 'Thy kaze.'
Fie! Fie!' cried she. 'Art thou not ashamed?' And cuffed him on
the nape of the neck. And whatever name he said, they beat him,
saying, 'No! No!' till at last he said, 'O my sisters, what is
its name?' 'The khan[FN#27] of Abou Mensour,' answered they. And
he said, 'Praised be God for safety! Bravo! Bravo! O khan of Abou
Mensour!' Then the damsel rose and put on her clothes and they
returned to their carousing and the cup passed round awhile.
Presently, the porter rose and putting off his clothes, plunged
into the pool and swam about and washed under his chin and
armpits, even as they had done. Then he came out and threw
himself into the eldest lady's lap and putting his arms into the
portress's lap and his feet into that of the cateress pointed to
his codpiece and said, 'O my mistresses, what is the name of
this?' They laughed till they fell backward and one of them
answered, 'Thy yard.' 'Art thou not ashamed?' said he. 'A
forfeit!' and took of each a kiss. Quoth another, 'Thy pintle.'
But he replied, 'No,' and gave each of them a bite in play. Then
said they, 'Thy pizzle.' 'No,' answered he, and gave each of them
a hug; and they kept saying, 'Thy yard, thy pintle, thy pizzle,
thy codpiece!' whilst he kissed and hugged and fondled them to
his heart's content, and they laughed till they were well nigh
dead. At last they said, 'O our brother, and what is its name?'
'Don't you know?' asked he; and they said, 'No.' Quoth he, 'This
is the mule Break-all, that browses on the basil of the dykes and
gobbles up the peeled barleycorn and lies by night in the khan of
Abou Mensour.' And they laughed till they fell backward. Then
they fell again to drinking and continued after this fashion till
the night came upon them, when they said to the porter, 'In the
name of God, put on thy sandals and be off and let us see the
breadth of thy shoulders!' Quoth he, 'By Allah, the leaving life
were easier to me than the leaving you! Let us join the night to
the day, and to-morrow we will each go our own way.' 'My life on
you!' said the cateress, 'let him pass the night with us, that we
may laugh at him, for he is a pleasant rogue; and we may never
again chance upon the like of him.' So the mistress of the house
said to the porter, 'Thou shalt pass the night with us on
condition that thou submit to our authority and that, whatever
thou seest, thou ask no questions about it nor enquire the reason
of it.' 'It is well,' answered he; and they said, 'Go and read
what is written over the door.' So he went to the door and found
the following words written thereon in letters of gold, 'He who
speaks of what concerns him not, shall hear what will not please
him.' And he said, 'Be ye witness against me that I will not
speak of what concerns me not.' Then rose the cateress and
prepared food, and they ate: after which they lighted the lamps
and candles and strewed on the latter ambergris and aloes-wood;
then changed the service and set on fresh fruits and flowers and
wine and so forth and sat down again to drink. They ceased not to
eat and drink and make merry, hobnobbing and laughing and talking
and frolicking, till there came a knocking at the door: whereupon
one of them rose and went to the door, without disturbing the
party, and presently returned, saying, 'Verily, our pleasure is
to be complete to-night.' 'How so?' asked the others, and she
replied, 'There are three foreign Calenders[FN#28] at the door,
with shaven heads and chins and eyebrows and every one blind of
the right eye, which is a most extraordinary coincidence.
Apparently they are fresh from a journey and indeed the traces of
travel are evident on them; and the reason of their knocking at
the door is this. They are strangers to Baghdad and this is their
first coming to our city: the night surprised them and they could
not find a lodging in the city and know no one with whom to take
shelter: so they said to each other, "Perhaps the owner of this
house will give us the key of a stable or outhouse and let us
sleep there." And, O my sisters, each of them is a laughing-stock
after his own fashion; and if we let them in, they will make us
sport this night, and on the morrow each shall go his own way.'
And she ceased not to persuade them, till they said, 'Let them
come in, on condition that they ask no questions of what does not
concern them, on pain of hearing what will not please them.' So
she rejoiced and going to the door, returned with the three
Calenders, who saluted and bowed low and held back; but the
ladies rose to them and welcomed them and gave them joy of their
safety and made them sit down. The Calenders looked about them
and seeing a pleasant place and a table elegantly spread with
flowers and fruits and green herbs and dessert and wine, with
candles burning and perfumes smoking, and the three maidens, with
their faces unveiled, said with one voice ''Fore Allah, it is
good!' Then they turned to the porter and saw that he was tipsy
and jaded with drinking and dalliance. So they took him for one
of themselves and said, 'He is a Calender like ourselves, either
an Arab or a foreigner.' When the porter heard this, he rose and
fixing his eyes on them, said, 'Sit still and do not meddle. Have
you not read what is written on the door? It befits not folk,
like yourselves, who come to us as mendicants, to loose your
tongues on us.' 'We ask pardon of God, O fakir!' answered they.
'Our heads are before thee.' The ladies laughed and making peace
between them, set food before the Calenders. When they had eaten,
they all sat down again to carouse, the portress serving the new
comers, and the cup passed round awhile, till the porter said to
the Calenders, 'O brothers, have ye no story or rare trait to
divert us withal?' The Calenders, being warm with wine, called
for musical instruments; so the portress brought them a
tambourine and a lute and a Persian harp; and each Calender took
one and tuned it and played and sang; and the girls joined in
lustily and made a great noise. Whilst they were thus engaged,
some one knocked at the gate and the portress rose and went to
see who it was. Now the cause of this knocking was that, that
very night, the Khalif Haroun er Reshid had gone down into the
City, as was his wont, every now and then, to walk about for his
diversion and hear what news was stirring, attended by his Vizier
Jaafer and Mesrour his headsman, all three, as usual, disguised
as merchants. Their way brought them to the house of the three
ladies, where they heard the noise of musical instruments and of
singing and merriment, and the Khalif said to Jaafer, 'I have a
mind to enter this house and listen to this music and see the
singers.' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' answered Jaafer, 'these
people are certainly drunk, and I fear lest some mischief betide
us at their hands.' 'It matters not,' rejoined the Khalif; 'I
must and will go in and I desire that thou contrive some pretext
to that end.' 'I hear and obey,' replied the Vizier and going up
to the gate, knocked, whereupon the portress came down and
opened. Jaafer came forward and kissing the earth before her,
said, 'O lady, we are merchants from Tiberias: we reached Baghdad
ten days ago and sold our merchandise and took up our lodging at
the khan of the merchants. Now we were bidden to-night to an
entertainment at the house of a certain merchant, who set food
before us and we ate and caroused with him awhile, till he gave
us leave to depart and we went out, intending for our lodging;
but being strangers in Baghdad, we lost ourselves and could not
find our way back to our khan: so we hope, of your courtesy, that
you will admit us to pass the night with you, and God will
requite you.' The portress looked at them and saw that they were
dressed like merchants and appeared respectable; so she returned
to her sisters and repeated to them Jaafer's story, and they took
compassion on the supposed strangers and bade her admit them. So
she resumed and opened the gate to them, and they said, 'Have we
thy leave to enter?' 'Enter,' answered she; whereupon the Khalif
and Jaafer and Mesrour entered; and when the girls saw them, they
rose and welcomed them and made them sit down and served them,
saying, 'Ye are welcome as our guests, but on one condition.'
'What is that?' asked they; and the mistress of the house
answered, 'It is that you be eyes without tongues and that,
whatever you see, you enquire not thereof nor speak of that which
concerns you not, lest you hear what will not please you.'
'Good,' answered they: 'we are no meddlers.' Then they sat down
to carouse; whilst the Khalif looked at the three Calenders and
marvelled for that they were all blind of the right eye, and
gazed upon the ladies and was amazed at their beauty and
goodliness. They fell to drinking and talking and said to the
Khalif, 'Drink.' But he answered, 'Excuse me, for I am vowed to
the pilgrimage.'[FN#29] Whereupon the portress rose and spreading
a gold-embroidered cloth before him, set thereon a china bowl,
into which she poured willow-flower water, with a spoonful of
snow and some pounded sugar-candy. The Khalif thanked her and
said to himself, 'By Allah, I will reward her to-morrow for her
kind office!' Then they addressed themselves to carousel, till
the wine began to work upon them, when the eldest lady rose and
making an obeisance to her guests, took the cateress by the hand
and said, 'Come, sisters, let us do our duty.' And they answered,
'It is well.' So the portress rose and cleared the middle of the
saloon, after she had removed the table service and thrown away
the remains of the banquet. Then she renewed the perfumes in the
censers and made the Calenders sit down on a sofa by the dais and
the Khalif and his companions on a sofa at the other end; after
which she called to the porter, saying, 'How dull and slothful
thou art! Come and help us: thou art no stranger, but one of the
household!' So he rose and girt his middle and said, 'What would
you have me do?' And she answered, 'Stay where thou art.' Then
the cateress rose and setting a chair in the middle of the room,
went to a closet, which she opened, saying to the porter, 'Come
and help me.' So he went to her and she brought out two black
bitches, with chains round their necks, and gave them to him,
saying, 'Take them.' So he took them and carried them to the
middle of the saloon; whereupon the mistress of the house tucked
up her sleeves and taking a whip, said to the porter, 'Bring me
one of the bitches.' So he brought it to her by the chain; and
the bitch wept and shook its head at the damsel, who brought the
whip down on it, whilst the porter held it by the chain. The
bitch howled and whined, but the lady ceased not to beat it till
her arm was tired; when she threw away the whip and pressing the
bitch to her bosom, kissed it on the head and wiped away its
tears. Then she said to the porter, 'Take it back and bring the
other.' He did as she bade him, and she did with the second bitch
as she had done with the first. The Khalif's mind was troubled at
her doings and his breast contracted and he could not restrain
his impatience to know the meaning of all this. So he winked to
Jaafer to ask, but the latter turned and signed to him as who
should say, 'Be silent: this is no time for impertinent
curiosity.' Then said the portress to the mistress of the house,
'O my lady, rise and go up to thy place, that I in turn may do my
part.' 'It is well,' answered she and went up and sat down on the
couch of juniper-wood, at the upper end of the dais; whilst the
portress sat down on a chair and said to the cateress, 'Do what
thou hast to do.' So the latter rose and going to a closet,
brought out a bag of yellow satin, with cords of green silk and
tassels of gold, and came and sat down before the portress. Then
she opened the bag and took out a lute, which she tuned, and sang
the following verses, accompanying herself on the lute:
Thou art my wish, thou art my end; And in thy presence, O my
friend,
There is for me abiding joy: Thine absence sets my heart a-flame
For thee distraught, with thee possest, Thou reignest ever in my
breast,
Nor in the love I bear to thee Is there for me reproach or shame.
Life's veil for me was torn apart, When Love gat hold upon my
heart
For Love still rends the veils in twain And brings dishonour on
fair fame.
The cloak of sickness I did on; And straight my fault appeared
and shone.
Since that my heart made choice of thee And love and longing on
me came,
My eyes are ever wet with tears, And all my secret thought
appears,
When with my tears' tumultuous flow Exhales the secret of thy
name.
Heal thou my pains, for thou to me Art both disease and remedy.
Yet him, whose cure is in thy hand, Affliction shall for ever
claim,
Thy glances set my heart on fire, Slay me with swords of my
desire:
How many, truly, of the best Have fallen beneath Love's sword of
flame?
Yet may I not from passion cease Nor in forgetting seek release;
For love's my comfort, pride and law, Public and private, aye the
same.
Blest eyes that have of thee their fill And look upon thee at
their will!
Ay, of my own unforced intent, The slave of passion I became.
When the portress heard this foursome song, she cried out, 'Alas!
Alas! Alas!' and tore her clothes and fell down in a swoon; and
the Khalif saw on her body the marks of beating with rods and
whips, and wondered greatly. Then the cateress rose and sprinkled
water upon her and brought her a fresh dress and put it on her.
When the company saw this, their minds were troubled, for they
understood not the reason of these things. And the Khalif said to
Jaafer, 'Didst thou not see the marks of beating with rods upon
the girl's body! I cannot keep silence nor be at rest, except I
come at the truth of all this and know the story of this damsel
and the two bitches.' 'O my lord,' answered Jaafer, 'they made it
a condition with us that we should not speak of what concerns us
not, under pain of hearing what should not please us.' Then said
the portress 'By Allah! O my sister, come and complete thy
service to me.' 'With all my heart!' answered the cateress and
took the lute and leant it against her breasts. Then she swept
the strings with her finger-tips and sang the following verses:
If we complain of absence, what alas! shall we say? Or if longing
assail us, where shall we take our way?
If, to interpret for us, we trust to a messenger, How can a
message rightly a lover's plaint convey?
Or if we put on patience, short is a lover's life, After his
heart's beloved is torn from him away.
Nothing, alas! is left me but sorrow and despair And tears that
adown my cheeks without cessation stray.
Thou that art ever absent from my desireful sight, Thou that art
yet a dweller within my heart alway,
Hast thou kept troth, I wonder, with one who loves thee dear,
Whose faith, whilst time endureth, never shall know decay?
Or hast thou e'en forgotten her who for love of thee, In tears
and sickness and passion, hath wasted many a day?
Alas! though Love unite us again in one embrace, Reproach for thy
past rigour with me full long shall stay.
When the portress heard this second song, she gave a loud scream
and exclaimed, 'By Allah! it is good!' and putting her hand to
her clothes, tore them as before and fell down in a swoon.
Whereupon the cateress rose and brought her another dress, after
she had sprinkled water on her. Then she sat up again and said to
the cateress 'To it again and help me to do the rest of my duty;
for there remains but one more song.' So the cateress took the
lute and sang the following verses:
How long, ah me! shall this rigour last and this inhumanity? Are
not the tears that I have shed enough to soften thee?
If thou, of thy relentless will, estrangement do prolong,
Intending my despite, at last, I pray, contented be!
If treacherous fortune were but just to lovers and their woe,
They would not watch the weary night in sleepless agony.
Have ruth on me, for thy disdain is heavy on my heart; Is it not
time that thou relent at last, my king, to me?
To whom but thee that slayest me should I reveal my pain? What
grief is theirs who love and prove the loved one's perfidy!
Love and affliction hour by hour redouble in my breast: The days
of exile are prolonged; no end to them I see.
Muslims, avenge a slave of love, the host of wakefulness, Whose
patience hath been trampled out by passion's tyranny!
Can it be lawful, O my wish, that thou another bless With thine
embraces, whilst I die, in spite of Love's decree?
Yet in thy presence, by my side, what peace should I enjoy, Since
he I love doth ever strive to heap despite on me?
When the portress heard this third song, she screamed out and
putting forth her hand, tore her clothes even to the skirt and
fell down in a swoon for the third time, and there appeared once
more on her body the marks of beat ing with rods. Then said the
three Calenders, 'Would God we had never entered this house, but
had slept on the rubbish-heaps! for verily our entertainment hath
been troubled by things that rend the heart.' The Khalif turned
to them and said, 'How so?' And they answered, 'Indeed, our minds
are troubled about this matter.' Quoth he, 'Are you not then of
the household?' 'No,' replied they; 'nor did we ever see the
place till now.' Said the Khalif, 'There is the man by you: he
will surely know the meaning of all this.' And he winked at the
porter. So they questioned the latter and he replied, 'By the
Almighty, we are all in one boat! I was brought up at Baghdad,
but never in my life did I enter this house till to-day, and the
manner of my coming in company with them was curious.' 'By
Allah,' said they, 'we thought thee one of them, and now we see
thou art but as one of ourselves.' Then said the Khalif, 'We are
here seven men, and they are but three women: so let us question
them of their case, and if they do not answer willingly, they
shall do so by force.' They all agreed to this, except Jaafer,
who said, 'This is not well-advised: let them be, for we are
their guests, and as ye know, they imposed on us a condition, to
which we all agreed. Wherefore it is better that we keep silence
concerning this affair, for but a little remains of the night,
and each go about his business.' And he winked to the Khalif and
whispered to him, 'There is but a little longer to wait, and
to-morrow I will bring them before thee and thou canst then
question them of their story.' But the Khalif lifted his head
and cried out angrily, 'I have not patience to wait till then:
let the Calenders ask them.' And Jaafer said, 'This is not
well-advised.' Then they consulted together, and there was much
talk and dispute between them, who should put the question,
before they fixed upon the porter. The noise drew the notice of
the lady of the house, who said to them, 'O guests, what is the
matter and what are you talking about?' Then the porter came
forward and said to her, 'O lady, the company desire that thou
acquaint them with the history of the two bitches and why thou
didst beat them and after fellest to kissing and weeping over
them and also concerning thy sister and why she has been beaten
with rods, like a man. This is what they charge me to ask thee,
and peace be on thee.' When she heard this, she turned to the
others and said to them 'Is this true that he says of you?' And
they all replied 'Yes;' except Jaafer, who held his peace. Then
said she, 'By Allah! O guests, ye have done us a grievous wrong,
for we made it a previous condition with you that whoso spoke of
what concerned him not, should hear what should not please him.
Is it not enough that we have taken you into our house and fed
you with our victual! But the fault is not so much yours as that
of her who brought you in to us.' Then she tucked up her sleeves
and smote three times on the floor, saying, 'Come quickly!'
Whereupon the door of a closet opened and out came seven black
slaves, with drawn swords in their hands, to whom said the lady,
'Bind these babblers' hands behind them and tie them one with
another.' The slaves did as she bade, and said, 'O noble lady, is
it thy will that we strike off their heads?' 'Hold your hands
awhile,' answered she, 'till I question them of their condition,
before ye strike off their heads.' 'By Allah, O my lady,'
exclaimed the porter 'do not slay me for another's fault, for all
have erred and offended save myself. And by Allah, our night
would have been a pleasant one, had we not been afflicted with
these Calenders, whose presence is enough to lay a flourishing
city in ruins.' And he repeated the following verses:
How fair a thing is mercy to the great! And how much more to
those of low estate!
By all the love that has between us been, Doom not the guiltless
to the guilty's fate!
When the lady heard this, she laughed, in spite of her anger, and
coming up to the guests, said to them, 'Tell me who you are, for
ye have but a little while to live, and were you not men of rank
and consideration, you had never dared to act thus.' Then the
Khalif said to Jaafer, 'Out on thee! Tell her who we are, or we
shall be slain in a mistake, and speak her fair, ere an
abomination befall us.' 'It were only a part of thy deserts,'
replied Jaafer. Whereupon the Khalif cried out at him in anger
and said, 'There is a time to jest and a time to be serious.'
Then the lady said to the Calenders, 'Are ye brothers?' 'Not so,'
answered they; 'we are only poor men and strangers.' And she said
to one of them, 'Wast thou born blind of one eye?' 'No, by
Allah!' replied he; 'but there hangs a rare story by the loss of
my eye, a story which, were it graven with needles on the corners
of the eye, would serve as a lesson to those that can profit by
example.' She questioned the two other Calenders, and they made a
like reply, saying, 'By Allah! O our mistress, each one of us
comes from a different country and is the son of a king and a
sovereign prince ruling over lands and subjects.' Then she turned
to the others and said to them, 'Let each of you come forward in
turn and tell us his history and the manner of his coming hither
and after go about his business; but whoso refuses, I will cut
off his head.' The first to come forward was the porter, who
said, 'O my lady, I am a porter. This lady, the cateress, hired
me and took me first to the vintner's, then to the butcher's,
from the butcher's to the fruiterer's, from the fruiterer's to
the grocer's, from the grocer's to the greengrocer's, from the
greengrocer's to the confectioner's and the druggist's, and
thence to this place, where there happened to me with you what
happened. This is my story; and peace be on thee!' At this the
lady laughed and said to him, 'Begone about thy business.' But he
said, 'By Allah, I will not budge 'till I hear the others'
stories.' Then came forward the first Calender and said, 'Know, O
lady, that
The First Calender's Story.
My father was a king, and he had a brother, who was also a king
over another city. The latter had a son and a daughter, and it
chanced that I and the son of my uncle were both born on the same
day. In due time we grew up to man's estate and there was a great
affection between us. Now it was my wont every now and then to
visit my uncle and abide with him several months at a time.
One day, I went to visit him as usual and found him absent
a-hunting; but my cousin received me with the utmost courtesy and
slaughtered sheep and strained wine for me and we sat down to
drink. When the wine had got the mastery of us, my cousin said to
me, "O son of my uncle I have a great service to ask of thee, and
I beg of thee not to baulk me in what I mean to do." "With all my
heart," answered I; and he made me swear by the most solemn oaths
to do his will. Then he went away and returning in a little, with
a lady veiled and perfumed and very richly clad, said to me,
"Take this lady and go before me to the burial-ground and enter
such and such a sepulchre," and he described it to me and I knew
it, "and wait till I come." I could not gainsay him, by reason of
the oath I had sworn to him; so I took the lady and carried her
to the cemetery, and entering the tomb sat down to await my
cousin, who soon rejoined us, carrying a vessel of water, a bag
containing plaster and an adze. He went up to the tomb in the
midst of the sepulchre and loosening its stones with the adze,
laid them on one side after which he fell to digging with the
adze in the earth till he uncovered a trap of iron, as big as a
small door, and raised it, when there appeared beneath it a
winding stair. Then he turned to the lady and said to her, "Up
and make thy choice." So she descended the stair and was lost to
sight; and he said to me, "O my cousin, when I have descended,
complete thy kindness to me by replacing the trap-door and
throwing back the earth on it: then mix the plaster in the bag
with the water in this vessel and build up the tomb again with
the stones and plaster it over as before, lest any see it and
say, 'This tomb has been newly opened, albeit it is an old one;'
for I have been at work here a whole year, unknown to any save
God. This then is the service I had to ask of thee, and may God
never bereave thy friends of thee, O my cousin!" Then he
descended the stair; and when he was out of sight, I replaced the
trap-door and did as he had bidden me, till the tomb was restored
to its original condition, and I the while in a state of
intoxication; after which I returned to the palace, and found my
uncle still absent. Next morning I called to mind what had
happened and repented of having obeyed my cousin, when repentance
was of no avail, but thought that it must have been a dream. So I
fell to enquiring after my cousin; but none could give me any
news of him; and I went out to the burial-ground and sought for
the tomb where I had left him, but could not find it, and ceased
not to go from sepulchre to sepulchre and from tomb to tomb,
without success, till nightfall. Then I returned to the palace
and could neither eat nor drink, for my heart was troubled about
my cousin, seeing I knew not what was come of him; and I was
extremely chagrined and slept not that night, but lay awake for
anxiety till morning. As soon as it was day, I repaired again to
the cemetery, pondering what my cousin had done and repenting me
of having hearkened to him, and vent round among all the tombs,
but could not find the one I sought. Thus I did for the space of
seven days, but with no better success, and my trouble and
anxiety increased till I was well-nigh mad and could find nothing
for it but to return to my father. So I set out and journeyed
till I reached his capital; but as I entered the gate of the
city, a number of men sprang out on me and tied my hands behind
me. At this I was beyond measure amazed, seeing that I was the
son of the Sultan and that they were his servants and my own; and
great fear fell on me, and I said to myself, "I wonder what has
befallen my father!" Then I questioned my captors; but they
returned me no answer. However, after awhile, one of them, who
had been my servant, said to me, "Fortune has played thy father
false; and the troops deserted him. So the Vizier slew him and
seized on his throne; and we laid wait for thee by his command."
Then they took me and carried me before the Vizier, well-nigh
distraught for this news of my father. Now between me and this
Vizier was an old feud, the cause of which was as follows. I was
fond of shooting with a pellet-bow, and one day, as I was
standing on the terrace of my palace, a bird lighted on the
terrace of the Vizier's house, where the latter chanced to be
standing at the time. I let fly at the bird, but, as fate and
destiny would have it, the pellet swerved and striking the Vizier
on the eye, put it out. As says the poet:
Our footsteps follow on in their predestined way, Nor from the
ordered track can any mortal stray:
And he whom Fate appoints in any land to die, No other place on
earth shall see his dying day.
The Vizier dared say nothing, at the time, because I was the
Sultan's son of the city, but thenceforward he nourished a deadly
hatred against me. So when they brought me bound before him, he
commanded my head to be smitten off; and I said, "For what crime
wilt thou put me to death?" "What crime could be greater than
this?" answered he, and pointed to his ruined eye. Quoth I, "That
I did by misadventure." And he replied, "If thou didst it by
misadventure, I will do the like with intent." Then said he,
"Bring him to me." So they brought me up to him, and he put his
finger into my right eye and pulled it out; and thenceforward I
became one-eyed as ye see me. Then he caused me to be bound hand
and foot and put in a chest and said to the headsman, "Take this
fellow and carry him forth of the city and slay him and leave him
for the beasts and birds to eat." So the headsman carried me
without the city to the midst of the desert, where he took me out
of the chest, bound hand and foot as I was, and would have
bandaged my eyes, that he might slay me. But I wept sore till I
made him weep, and looking at him, repeated the following verses:
I counted on you as a coat of dart-proof mail toward The foeman's
arrows from my breast. Alas! ye are his sword!
I hoped in you to succour me in every evil chance, Although my
right hand to my left no more should help afford.
Yet stand aloof nor cast your lot with those who do me hate, And
let my foemen shoot their shafts against your whilom lord!
If you refuse to succour me against my enemies, At least be
neutral, nor to me nor them your aid accord.
And these also:
How many of my friends, methought, were coats of mail! And so
they were, indeed, but on my foeman's part.
Unerring shafts and true I deemed them; and they were Unerring
shafts, indeed, alas, but in my heart!
When the headsman heard this (now he had been my father's
headsman and I had done him kindness) he said, "O my lord what
can I do, being but a slave commanded?" Then he said, "Fly for
thy life and never return to this country, or thou art lost and I
with thee." As says one of the poets:
Escape with thy life, if oppression betide thee, And let the
house tell of its builder's fate!
Country for country thou'lt find, if thou seek it; Life for life
never, early or late.
It is strange men should dwell in the house of abjection, When
the plain of God's world is so wide and so great!
I kissed his hands, hardly crediting my escape; and recked little
of the loss of my eye, in consideration of my deliverance from
death. Then I repaired to my uncle's capital and going in to him,
told him what had befallen my father and myself; whereat he wept
sore and said, "Verily, thou addest affliction to my affliction
and sorrow to my sorrow; for thy cousin has been missing these
many days; I know not what is become of him, and none can give me
any news of him." Then he wept till he swooned away, and my heart
was sore for him. When he revived, he would have medicined my
eye, but found there was but the socket left and said, "O my son,
it is well that it was thine eye and not thy life!" I could not
keep silence about my cousin; so I told him all that had passed,
and he rejoiced greatly at hearing news of his son and said,
"Come, show me the tomb." "By Allah, O my uncle," answered I, "I
know it not, for I went after many times to seek for it, but
could not find it." However, we went out to the burial-ground and
looked right and left, till at last I discovered the tomb. At
this we both rejoiced greatly and entering, removed the earth,
raised the trapdoor and descended fifty steps, till we came to
the foot of the stair, where we were met by a great smoke that
blinded our eyes: and my uncle pronounced the words, which whoso
says shall never be confounded, that is to say, "There is no
power and no virtue but in God the Most High, the Supreme!" Then
we went on and found ourselves in a saloon, raised upon columns,
drawing air and light from openings communicating with the
surface of the ground and having a cistern in its midst. The
place was full of crates and sacks of flour and grain and other
victual; and at the upper end stood a couch with a canopy over
it. My uncle went up to the bed and drawing the curtains, found
his son and the lady in each other's arms; but they were become
black coal, as they had been cast into a well of fire. When he
saw this, he spat in his son's face and taking off his shoe,
smote him with it, exclaiming, "Swine that thou art, thou hast
thy deserts! This is thy punishment in this world, but there
awaits thee a far sorer and more terrible punishment in the world
to come!" His behaviour amazed me, and I mourned for my cousin,
for that he was become a black coal, and said to the king, "O my
uncle, is not that which hath befallen him enough, but thou must
beat him with thy shoe?" "O son of my brother," answered my
uncle, "this my son was from his earliest youth madly enamoured
of his sister, and I forbade him from her, saying in myself,
'They are but children.' But, when they grew up, sin befell
between them, notwithstanding that his attendants warned him to
abstain from so foul a thing, which none had done before nor
would do after him, lest the news of it should be carried abroad
by the caravans and he become dishonoured and unvalued among
kings to the end of time. I heard of this and believed it not,
but took him and upbraided him severely, saying, 'Have a care
lest this thing happen to thee; for I will surely curse thee and
put thee to death.' Then I shut her up and kept them apart, but
this accursed girl loved him passionately, and Satan got the
upper hand of them and made their deeds to seem good in their
eyes. So when my son saw that I had separated them, he made this
place under ground and transported victual hither, as thou seest,
and taking advantage of my absence a-hunting, came here with his
sister, thinking to enjoy her a long while. But the wrath of God
descended on them and consumed them; and there awaits them in the
world to come a still sorer and more terrible punishment." Then
he wept and I with him, and he looked at me and said, "Henceforth
thou art my son in his stead." Then I bethought me awhile of the
world and its chances and how the Vizier had slain my father and
usurped his throne and put out my eye and of the strange events
that had befallen my cousin and wept again, and my uncle wept
with me. Presently we ascended, and replacing the trap-door,
restored the tomb to its former condition. Then we resumed to the
palace, but hardly had we sat down when we heard a noise of drums
and trumpets and cymbals and galloping of cavalry and clamour of
men and clash of arms and clank of bridles and neighing of
horses, and the world was filled with clouds of dust raised by
the horses' hoofs. At this we were amazed and knew not what could
be the matter so we enquired and were told that the Vizier, who
had usurped my father's throne, had levied troops and hired the
wild Arabs and was come with an army like the sands of the sea,
none could tell their number nor could any avail against them.
They assaulted the city unawares, and the people, being unable to
withstand them, surrendered the place to them. My uncle was slain
and I took refuge in the suburbs, knowing that, if I fell into
the Vizier's hands, he would put me to death. Wherefore trouble
was sore upon me and I bethought me of all that had befallen me
and my father and uncle and knew not what to do, for if I showed
myself, the people of the city and my father's troops would know
me and hasten to win the usurpers favour by putting me to death;
and I could find no means of escape but by shaving my face. So I
shaved off my beard and eyebrows and donning a Calender's habit,
left the town, without being known of any, and made for this
city, in the hope that perhaps some one would bring me to the
presence of the Commander of the Faithful and Vicar of the Lord
of the Two Worlds, that I might relate to him my story and lay my
case before him. I arrived here today and was standing, perplexed
where I should go, when I saw this second Calender; so I saluted
him, saying "I am a stranger," and he replied, "And I also am a
stranger." Presently up came our comrade, this other Calender,
and saluted us, saying, "I am a stranger." "We also are
strangers," answered we; and we walked on together, till darkness
overtook us, and destiny led us to your house. This, then, is my
history and the manner of the loss of my right eye and the
shaving of my beard and eyebrows.' They all marvelled at his
story, and the Khalif said to Jaafer, 'By Allah, I never heard or
saw the like of what happened to this Calender.' Then the
mistress of the house said to the Calender, 'Begone about thy
business.' But he answered, 'I will not budge till I hear the
others' stories.' Then came forth the second Calender and kissing
the earth, said, 'O my lady, I was not born blind of one eye, and
my story is a marvellous one; were it graven with needles on the
corners of the eye, it would serve as a warning to those that can
profit by example.
The Second Calender's Story.
I am a king, son of a king. My father taught me to read and
write, and I got the Koran by heart, according to the seven
readings, and read all manner of books under the guidance of
learned professors; I studied the science of the stars and the
sayings of poets and applied myself to all branches of knowledge,
till I surpassed all the folk of my time. In particular, my skill
in handwriting excelled that of all the scribes, and my fame was
noised abroad in all countries and at the courts of all the
kings. Amongst others, the King of Ind heard of me and sent to my
father to seek me, with gifts and presents such as befit kings.
So my father fitted out six ships for me, and we put to sea and
sailed for a whole month, till we reached the land. Then we
brought out the horses that were with us in the ships, together
with ten camels laden with presents for the King of Ind. and set
out inland, but had not gone far, before there arose a great
dust, that grew till it covered the whole country. After awhile
it lifted and discovered fifty steel-clad horsemen, as they were
fierce lions, whom we soon found to be Arab highwaymen. When they
saw that we were but a small company and had with us ten laden
camels, they drove at us with levelled spears. We signed to them
with our fingers to do us no hindrance, for that we were
ambassadors to the mighty King of Ind; but they replied (in the
same manner) that they were not in his dominions nor under his
rule. Then they set on us and slew some of my attendants and put
the rest to flight; and I also fled, after I had gotten a sore
wound whilst the Arabs were taken up with the baggage. I knew not
whither to turn, being reduced from high to low estate; so I fled
forth at a venture till I came to the top of a mountain, where I
took shelter for the night in a cavern. On the morrow, I
continued my journey and fared on thus for a whole month, till I
reached a safe and pleasant city. The winter had passed away from
it with its cold and the spring was come with its roses; its
flowers were blowing and its streams welling and its birds
warbling. As says the poet, describing the city in question:
A town, wherein who dwells is free from all affray; Security and
peace are masters there alway.
Like Paradise itself, it seemeth, for its folk, With all its
beauties rare decked out in bright array.
I was both glad and sorry to reach the city, glad for that I was
weary with my journey and pale for weakness and anxiety, and
grieved to enter it in such sorry case. However, I went in,
knowing not whither to betake me, and fared on till I came to a
tailor sitting in his shop. I saluted him, and he returned my
salute and bade me a kindly welcome, and seeing me to be a
stranger and noting marks of gentle breeding on me, enquired how
I came thither. I told him all that had befallen me; and he was
concerned for me and said, "O my son, do not discover thyself to
any, for the King of this city is the chief of thy father's foes
and hath a mortal feud against him." Then he set meat and drink
before me, and I ate and he with me, and we talked together till
nightfall, when he lodged me in a chamber beside his own, and
brought me a bed and coverlet. I abode with him three days, at
the end of which time he said to me, "Dost thou know any craft by
which thou mayst earn thy living?" I replied, "I am a doctor of
the law and a man of learning, a scribe, a grammarian, a poet, a
mathematician and a skilled penman." Quoth he, "Thy trade is not
in demand in this country nor are there in this city any who
understand science or writing or aught but money-getting." "By
Allah," said I, "I know nought but what I have told thee!" And he
said, "Gird thy middle and take axe and cord and go and cut
firewood in the desert for thy living, till God send thee relief,
and tell none who thou art, or they will kill thee." Then he
bought me an axe and a cord and gave me in charge to certain
woodcutters; with whom I went out into the desert and cut wood
all day and carried home a load on my head. I sold it for half a
dinar, with part of which I bought victual and laid up the rest.
On this wise I lived a whole year, at the end of which time I
went out one day into the desert, according to my wont, and
straying from my companions, happened on a tract full of trees
and running streams, in which there was abundance of firewood; so
I entered and coming on the gnarled stump of a great tree, dug
round it with my axe and cleared the earth away from it.
Presently, the axe struck upon a ring of brass; so I cleared away
the earth, till I uncovered a wooden trap-door, which I raised
and there appeared beneath it a sta
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