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The Thousand and One Days;
A COMPANION TO THE
"_Arabian Nights._"
WITH INTRODUCTION BY MISS PARDOE.
[Illustration: P. 113.]
LONDON:
WILLIAM LAY, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND.
1857.
INTRODUCTION.
The Compiler of the graceful little volume which I have the pleasure
of introducing to the public, has conferred an undeniable benefit upon
the youth of England by presenting to them a collection of Oriental
Tales, which, rich in the elements of interest and entertainment, are
nevertheless entirely free from the licentiousness which renders so
many of the fictions of the East, beautiful and brilliant as they are,
most objectionable for young and ardent minds. There is indeed no lack
of the wonderful in the pages before us, any more than in the Arabian
and Persian Tales already so well known: but it will be seen that the
supernatural agency in the narratives is used as a means to work out
totally different results. There is, in truth, scarcely one of these
Tales which does not inculcate a valuable moral lesson; as may be seen
by reference to "The Powder of Longevity," "The Old Camel," and "The
Story of the Dervise Abounadar" among several, others.
The present collection of Eastern Stories has been principally derived
from the works of different Oriental Scholars on the Continent, and
little doubt can be entertained of the genuineness of their origin;
while they have been carefully selected, and do honour to the good
taste of their Compiler. An acknowledgment is also due to him for his
adherence to the good old orthography to which we have all been
accustomed from our childhood, in the case of such titles as "Caliph,"
"Vizier," "Houri," "Genii," &c.; as, however critically correct and
learned the spelling of Mr. Lane may be in his magnificent version of
the "Thousand and One Nights," and however appropriate to a work of so
much research and value to Oriental students, it would have been alike
fatiguing and out of character to have embarrassed a volume, simply
intended for the amusement of youthful readers, by a number of hard
and unfamiliar words, difficult of pronunciation to all save the
initiated; and for the pleasure of the young requiring translation
fully as much as the narrative itself.
In one of the Tales there will be at once detected a portion of the
favourite old story of Aladdin's Lamp, in the subterranean gem-garden
discovered by the handsome youth; while in another, mention is made
of the already-familiar legend of the hidden city of Ad, so popular
among the ancient Arabs[1]; but these repetitions will cease to create
any surprise when it is remembered that the professional story-tellers
of the East are a wandering race, who travel from city to city,
exhibiting their talent during seasons of festivity, in the palaces of
the wealthy and the public coffee-houses. Those admitted to the
women's apartments are universally aged crones, whose volubility is
something marvellous; and they are always welcome guests to the
indolent beauties, who listen to them for hours together without a
symptom of weariness, as they pour forth their narratives in a
monotonous voice strangely displeasing to European ears. The men,
while reciting their tales, indulge in violent gesticulations and
contortions of the body, which appear to produce great delight in
their audience. Since they generally travel two or three in company;
and, save in rare cases of improvisation, their stock of narrative is
common to all, it is their ambition so individually to embellish,
heighten, and amplify their subject-matter, as to outshine their
competitors; and it is consequently to this cause that the numerous
variations of the same Tale which have reached Europe must be
attributed.
Taken altogether, there can be no doubt that the "Thousand and One
Days" merit the warm welcome which I trust awaits them.
J. P.
LONDON, FEB. 1857.
CONTENTS.
I.
PAGE
HASSAN ABDALLAH, OR THE ENCHANTED KEYS 1
Story of Hassan 7
Story of the Basket-Maker 11
Story of the Dervise Abounadar 21
Conclusion of the Story of Hassan 29
II.
SOLIMAN BEY AND THE THREE STORY TELLERS 46
First Story Teller 47
Second Story Teller 49
Third Story Teller 55
III.
PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA 58
Story of Prince Al Abbas 67
Continuation of Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China 99
Story of Lin-in 106
Story of Prince Khalaf concluded 126
IV.
THE WISE DEY 178
V.
THE TUNISIAN SAGE 190
VI.
THE NOSE FOR GOLD 203
VII.
THE TREASURES OF BASRA 215
History of Aboulcassem 223
Conclusion of the Treasures of Basra 230
VIII.
THE OLD CAMEL 250
IX.
THE STORY OF MEDJEDDIN 263
X.
KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR 299
Story of the Old Slippers 300
Story of Atalmulc the Sorrowful 305
Continuation of King Bedreddin-Lolo and his Vizir 338
Story of Malek and the Princess Schirine 340
Conclusion 358
[Illustration]
THE "THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS;"
OR,
ARABIAN TALES.
I.
THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH; OR, THE ENCHANTED KEYS.
Theilon, caliph of Egypt, died, after having bequeathed his power to
his son, Mohammed, who, like a wise and good prince, proceeded to root
out abuses, and finally caused peace and justice to flourish
throughout his dominions. Instead of oppressing his people by new
taxes, he employed the treasures, which his father had amassed by
violence, in supporting learned men, rewarding the brave, and
assisting the unfortunate. Every thing succeeded under his happy sway;
the risings of the Nile were regular and abundant; every year the soil
produced rich harvests; and commerce, honoured and protected, caused
the gold of foreign nations to flow abundantly into the ports of
Egypt.
Mohammed determined, one day, to take the census of the officers of
his army, and of all the persons in public situations whose salaries
were paid out of the treasury. The vizirs, to the number of forty,
first made their appearance and knelt in succession before the
sovereign. They were, for the most part, men venerable from their age,
and some of them had long beards of snowy whiteness. They all wore on
their heads tiaras of gold, enriched with precious stones, and carried
in their hands long staves as badges of their power. One enumerated
the battles in which he had been engaged, and the honourable wounds he
had received; another recounted the long and laborious studies he had
pursued, in order to render himself master of the various sciences,
and to qualify himself to serve the state by his wisdom and knowledge.
After the vizirs, came the governors of provinces, the generals, and
the great officers of the army; and next to them the civil
magistrates, and all who were entrusted with the preservation of the
peace and the awarding of justice. Behind these walked the public
executioner, who, although stout and well-fed, like a man who had
nothing to do, went along as if depressed with grief, and instead of
carrying his sword naked on his shoulder, he kept it in its scabbard.
When he came into the presence of the prince, he threw himself at his
feet, and exclaimed, "O mighty prince, the day of justice and of
munificence is at last about to dawn on me! Since the death of the
terrible Theilon, under whose reign my life was happy and my condition
prosperous, I have seen my occupation and its emoluments diminish
daily. If Egypt continue thus to live in peace and plenty, I shall run
great danger of perishing with hunger, and my family will be brought
to misery and ruin."
Mohammed listened in silence to the complaints of the headsman, and
acknowledged that there was some foundation for them, for his salary
was small, and the chief part of his profits arose from what he
obtained from criminals, either by way of gift, or as a rightful fee.
In times of trouble, quarrelling, and violence, he had lived, in
fact, in a state of ease and affluence, while now, under the present
prosperous reign, he had nothing better than the prospect of beggary
before him.
"Is it then true," exclaimed the caliph, "that the happiness of all is
a dream? that what is joy to one, may be the cause of grief to
another? O executioner, fear not as to your fate! May it, indeed,
please God that, under my reign, your sword,--which is almost as often
an instrument of vengeance as of justice,--may remain useless and
covered with rust. But, in order to enable you to provide for the
wants of yourself and your family, without the unhappy necessity of
exercising your fatal office, you shall receive every year the sum of
two hundred dinars."
In this way all the officers and servants of the palace passed before
the notice of the prince; he interrogated each on the nature of his
occupation and his past services, on his means of existence, and on
the salary which he received. When he found that any one held a
situation of a painful and difficult nature, for which he was
inadequately remunerated, the caliph diminished his duties and
increased his pay; and, on the other hand, when he found the contrary
to be the case, he lessened the salary and increased the duties of the
office. After having, in this way, performed many acts of wisdom and
justice, the caliph observed, among the officers of the civil service,
a sheik, whose wrinkled countenance and stooping figure indicated his
great age. The caliph called him up, in order to inquire what was his
employment in the palace, and the sum which it yielded him.
"Prince," the old man replied, "my only employment is to take care of
a chest that was committed to my charge by your father, the late
caliph, and for attending to which he allowed me ten pieces of gold a
month."
"It seems to me," replied Mohammed, "that the reward is great for so
slight a service. Pray what are the contents of this chest?"
"I received it," replied the sheik, "in charge forty years ago, and I
solemnly swear to you that I know not what it contains."
The caliph commanded the chest to be brought to him, which was of pure
gold, and most richly adorned. The old man opened it. It contained a
manuscript written in brilliant characters on the skin of a gazelle,
painted purple and sprinkled with a red dust. Neither the prince,
however, nor his ministers, nor the ulemas who were present, could
decipher the writing. By the caliph's order, the wise men of Egypt
were summoned, as well as others from Syria, Persia, and India, but to
no purpose; not one was able to interpret the mysterious characters.
The book remained open for a long time, exposed to the gaze of all,
and a great reward was offered to any one who could bring forward a
person of sufficient learning to read it.
Some time after this, a savant who had left Egypt in the reign of
Theilon, and had now returned after a long absence, chanced to hear of
the mysterious book, and said that he knew what it was, and could
explain its history. The caliph immediately admitted him to an
audience, and the old man addressed him as follows:
"O sovereign ruler, may the Almighty prolong your days! Only one man
can read this book, its rightful master, the sheik Hassan Abdallah,
son of El-Achaar. This man had travelled through many lands, and
penetrated into the mysterious city of Aram, built on columns, from
which he brought this book, which no one but himself could read. He
made use of it in his experiments in alchemy, and by its aid he could
transmute the most worthless metals into gold. The caliph Theilon,
your father, having learned this, commanded the sage to be brought
before him, with a view of compelling him to reveal the secret of his
knowledge. Hassan Abdallah refused to do so, for fear of putting into
the hands of the unjust an instrument of such terrible power; and the
prince, in a rage, laid hold of the chest, and ordered the sage to be
thrown into prison, where he still remains, unless he has died since
that time, which is forty years ago."
On hearing this, Mohammed immediately despatched his officers to visit
the prisons, and, on their return, learned with pleasure that Hassan
was still alive. The caliph ordered him to be brought forth and
arrayed in a dress of honour; and, on his appearing in the audience
chamber, the prince made him sit down beside him, and begged him to
forgive the unjust treatment which his father had caused him to
undergo. He then told him how he had accidentally discovered that he
was still alive; and at last, placing the mysterious book before him,
said,
"Old man, if this book could make me the owner of all the treasures of
the world, I would not consent to possess it, since it only belongs to
me by injustice and violence."
On hearing these words, Hassan burst into tears.
"O God," he exclaimed, "all wisdom proceeds from Thee! Thou causest to
arise from the same soil the poisonous and the wholesome plant. Every
where good is placed by the side of evil. This prince, the support of
the feeble, the defender of the oppressed, who has conferred on me the
happiness of spending my remaining years in the light of day, is the
son of the tyrant who plunged Egypt in mourning, and who kept me for
forty years in a loathsome dungeon. Prince," added the old man,
addressing Mohammed, "what I refused to the wrath of your father, I
willingly grant to your virtues: this book contains the precepts of
the true science, and I bless Heaven that I have lived long enough to
teach it to you. I have often risked my life to become the master of
this wonderful book, which was the only article of value that I
brought from Aram, that city into which no man can enter who is not
assisted by Heaven."
The caliph embraced the old man, and, calling him his father, begged
him to relate what he had seen in the city of Aram.
"Prince," replied Hassan, "it is a long story, as long, nearly, as my
whole life."
He then proceeded as follows.
[Illustration: Story of the Enchanted Keys, p. 7.]
THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH.
I am the only son of one of the richest inhabitants of Egypt. My
father, who was a man of extensive knowledge, employed my youth in the
study of science; and at twenty years of age I was already honourably
mentioned among the ulemas, when my father bestowed a young maiden on
me as my wife, with eyes brilliant as the stars, and with a form
elegant and light as that of the gazelle. My nuptials were
magnificent, and my days flowed on in peace and happiness. I lived
thus for ten years, when at last this beautiful dream vanished. It
pleased Heaven to afflict me with every kind of misfortune: the plague
deprived me of my father; war destroyed my dear brothers; my house
fell a prey to the flames; my richly-laden ships were buried beneath
the waves. Reduced to misery and want, my only resource was in the
mercy of God and the compassion of the faithful whom I met while I
frequented the mosques. My sufferings, from my own wretched state of
poverty, and that of my wife and children, were cruel indeed. One day
when I had not received any charitable donations, my wife, weeping,
took some of my clothes, and gave them to me in order to sell them at
the bazaar. On the way thither I met an Arab of the desert, mounted on
a red camel. He greeted me, and said,
"Peace be with you, my brother! Can you tell me where the sheik Hassan
Abdallah, the son of El-Achaar, resides in the city?"
Being ashamed of my poverty, and thinking I was not known, I replied,
"There is no man at Cairo of that name."
"God is great!" exclaimed the Arab; "are you not Hassan Abdallah, and
can you send away your guest by concealing your name?"
Greatly confused, I then begged him to forgive me, and laid hold of
his hands to kiss them, which he would not permit me to do, and I then
accompanied him to my house. On the way there I was tormented by the
reflection that I had nothing to set before him; and when I reached
home I informed my wife of the meeting I had just had.
"The stranger is sent by God," said she; "and even the children's
bread shall be his. Go, sell the clothes which I gave you; buy some
food for our guest with the money, and if any thing should remain
over, we will partake of it ourselves."
In going out it was necessary that I should pass through the apartment
where the Arab was. As I concealed the clothes, he said to me, "My
brother, what have you got there hid under your cloak?"
I replied that it was my wife's dress, which I was carrying to the
tailor.
"Show it to me," he said. I showed it to him, blushing.
"O merciful God," he exclaimed, "you are going to sell it in order to
get money to enable you to be hospitable towards me! Stop, Hassan!
here are ten pieces of gold; spend them in buying what is needful for
our own wants and for those of your family."
I obeyed, and plenty and happiness seemed to revisit my abode. Every
day the Arab gave me the same sum, which, according to his orders, I
spent in the same way; and this continued for fifteen days. On the
sixteenth day my guest, after chatting on indifferent matters, said to
me, "Hassan, would you like to sell yourself to me?"
"My lord," I replied, "I am already yours by gratitude."
"No," he replied, "that is not what I mean; I wish to make you my
property, and you shall fix the price yourself."
Thinking he was joking, I replied, "The price of a freeman is one
thousand dinars if he is killed at a single blow; but if many wounds
are inflicted upon him, or if he should be cut in many pieces, the
price is then one thousand five hundred dinars."
"Very well," answered my guest, "I will pay you this last-mentioned
sum if you will consent to the bargain."
When I saw that he was speaking seriously, I asked for time in order
to consult my family.
"Do so," he replied, and then went out to look after some affairs in
the city.
When I related the strange proposal of my guest, my mother said, "What
can this man want to do with you?" The children all clung to me, and
wept. My wife, who was a wise and prudent woman, remarked,
"This detestable stranger wants, perhaps, to get back what he has
spent here. You have nothing but this wretched house, sell it, and
give him the money, but don't sell yourself."
I passed the rest of the day and the following night in reflection,
and was in a state of great uncertainty. With the sum offered by the
stranger I could at least secure bread for my family. But why wish to
purchase me? What could he intend to do? Before next morning, however,
I had come to a decision. I went to the Arab and said, "I am yours."
Untying his sash, he took out one thousand five hundred gold pieces,
and giving them to me, said, "Fear not, my brother, I have no designs
against either your life or your liberty; I only wish to secure a
faithful companion during a long journey which I am about to
undertake."
Overwhelmed with joy, I ran with the money to my wife and mother; but
they, without listening to my explanations, began weeping and crying
as if they were lamenting for the dead.
"It is the price of flesh and blood," they exclaimed; "neither we nor
our children will eat bread procured at such a cost!"
By dint of argument, however, I succeeded at length in subduing their
grief; and having embraced them, together with my children, I set out
to meet my new master.
By order of the Arab I purchased a camel renowned for its speed, at
the price of a hundred drachms; I filled our sacks with food
sufficient for a long period; and then, mounting our camels, we
proceeded on our journey.
We soon reached the desert. Here no traces of travellers were to be
seen, for the wind effaced them continually from the surface of the
moving sand. The Arab was guided in his course by indications known
only to himself. We travelled thus together for five days under a
burning sun; each day seemed longer to me than a night of suffering or
of fear. My master, who was of a lively disposition, kept up my
courage by tales which I remember even now with pleasure after forty
years of anguish; and you will forgive an old man for not being able
to resist the pleasure of relating some of them to you. The following
story, he said, had been recounted to him by the basket-maker himself,
a poor man whom he had found in prison, and whom he had charitably
found means to release.
THE STORY OF THE BASKET-MAKER.
I was born of poor and honest parents; and my father, who was a
basket-maker by trade, taught me to plait all kinds of baskets. So
long as I had only myself to care for, I lived tolerably well on the
produce of my labour; but when I reached twenty years of age, and took
a wife, who in a few years presented me with several children, my
gains proved insufficient to maintain my family. A basket-maker earns
but little; one day he gets a drachm, the next he may get two, or
perhaps only half a drachm. In this state of things I and my children
had often to endure the pangs of hunger.
One day it happened that I had just finished a large basket; it was
well and strongly made, and I hoped to obtain at least three drachms
for it. I took it to the bazaar and through all the streets, but no
purchaser appeared. Night came on and I went home. When my wife and
children saw me return without any food, they began to cry and to ask
for bread, but as I had none to give them, I could only weep with
them: the night was long and sorrowful. At daybreak my wife awoke me,
saying, "Go, and sell the basket at any price you can get for it, were
it only half a drachm." I set out, and perambulated the streets and
squares, but night came on again without my finding a purchaser. My
wife burst out into a great rage. "What!" she said, "do you still
bring back this basket? Do you wish to see us die with hunger?"
I assured her that I had tried every means, but in vain, to sell the
basket. She then took some articles of her own, and told me to go and
sell them, and procure some bread for the children. I did as she said,
and my famished family partook of a miserable repast, which my
depressed state of mind prevented me from sharing with them. I slept
little that night; and as soon as it was day I performed my devotions,
and prayed to God to come to my assistance. I then went out again with
my unsaleable basket, with which I made many weary and fruitless
rounds through the whole city. At noon, overwhelmed with fatigue and
famished with hunger, I sat down at the door of a mosque, where the
voice of the muezzim was calling the faithful to prayer. I entered to
implore of God's goodness that I might be able, by his assistance, to
sell the basket. Prayer being ended, the faithful left the mosque, and
I found myself alone with a venerable Persian, named Saadi, who seemed
lost in contemplation. Rising to go away, he passed near me, and
noticing how pale I was, he said, "Friend, you are too much addicted
to wine, and your health suffers from it."
"My lord," I replied, "do not believe it; I have never tasted wine; my
weakness and paleness arise from my not having had any food for the
last two days."
I then related to him my life, my occupation, and my wretched state.
Whilst listening to me the stranger shed tears; and when I had
finished speaking, he said, "God be praised, my brother! for I can put
an end to your troubles: take this," putting a purse of gold into my
hands; "run to the market, and buy meat, bread, and fruits for the
refreshment of yourself and family. What I have given you will last
you for a year to come; and in exchange, I only ask you to meet me
here, at the same day and hour, every year." So saying, he departed.
I could scarcely think but that I had been dreaming; the purse,
however, proved that I was indeed awake. I opened it, and found in it
a hundred pieces of gold! Overjoyed, I ran to the bazaar, and, in
pursuance of the orders of the benevolent donor, I purchased enough,
not only to satisfy the calls of hunger, but also food of such a
nourishing nature, as had never entered my house before. The whole I
put into my basket, and hastened to return home. Having reached the
door, I listened, being curious to know what was going on. My children
were uttering lamentations, and their mother was endeavouring to quiet
them by repeating, for the hundredth time, her advice, to be quiet,
and not to weep, for that their father would be sure to return with
something to eat. I then entered the room, exclaiming, that God had
heard them, and had sent them a plentiful supply for a long time to
come. But when I showed them the purse and its contents, my wife
shouted out, "What! have you then killed and robbed some one? Are we
to become the object of the inquiries and suspicions of the police?"
I then related my fortunate meeting with the old man, and while
embracing me with tears of joy, and a conscience at ease, my family
partook, with me, of a plentiful repast, at the same time invoking
blessings on our unknown benefactor.
For a whole year I lived happily in this manner. The day fixed upon by
the stranger having arrived, I went to the mosque, after having
attired myself in a becoming manner. The Persian came and seated
himself beside me. When prayers were ended, and all the worshippers
had departed, he turned towards me and said, with a smiling look,
"O my brother! how has the time passed with you since our last
interview?"
"Thanks to your generosity, my lord," I replied, "my life has been
spent in a tranquil and happy manner."
The stranger then questioned me as to my courage, address, and love
of travelling; and to all his questions I replied in a satisfactory
manner, and, in my turn, asked him if I could be of any service to
him.
"Noureddin," he replied, "I intend setting out on a journey, and I
wish you to accompany me as my servant. I shall employ you in a
respectable and becoming manner; and if you show yourself obedient and
devoted to my interests, you will have no reason to repent it. The
journey will last two months; look, here are thirty dinars; buy
provisions, that your family may want for nothing during your absence.
In eight days you must bid adieu to your wife and children, and come
to meet me here, bringing a supply of rice and dates, and arming
yourself with a yatagan, to defend yourself in case of our being
attacked."
I then went to my wife, and told her what the stranger required of me.
"He is our benefactor," she replied; "it is your duty to obey him." I
spent the eight days in laying in a store of food for my family and
for the journey, and on the appointed day, after embracing my wife and
children, I went to the mosque, where I found the Persian. The muezzim
having proclaimed the hour of prayer, we joined in it; and afterwards
I followed him to a desert place, where were two fine horses well
harnessed and yoked, which we unloosed and mounted, and then set out
on our journey.
After having traversed deserts and mountains during a whole month, we
arrived at a fertile plain, watered by a fine river, whose peaceful
and limpid waters winding about a thick forest, formed it into
peninsula: a pavilion, with a golden cupola, seemed to rise out of
this mass of verdure, and shone in the sun's rays as if it had been on
fire.
[Illustration: The Pavilion with the golden cupola, p. 14]
The Persian now said to me, "Noureddin, enter this forest, and give me
an account of what you see." I obeyed, but I had scarcely walked an
hour, when I saw two huge lions with manes erect. Seized with alarm, I
drew back, and running away reached my master out of breath, who only
laughed at my fears, and assured me that I was needlessly afraid of
the monsters. He wanted me to return, but I refused, and he was
obliged to come back along with me. Having approached the lions, the
Persian charmed them by some magical words, on which they became as
submissive as lambs, remained motionless, and permitted us to pass. We
journeyed on for many hours in the recesses of the forest, meeting, to
my great dread, with what appeared to be troops of horsemen, sword in
hand, and giants, armed with clubs, ready to strike us. All these
fantastic beings disappeared at the sight of my master, and we reached
at last the pavilion which crowned the forest.
My master then said to me, "Go, Noureddin, to this pavilion; remove
the belt of iron chains which fastens the gates, while I go and pray
to the great Solomon to be propitious to our enterprise." I did as he
commanded me; but when I let the chains fall, a frightful noise was
heard, which made the earth shake under my feet. More dead than alive,
I returned to the Persian, who, having finished his prayer, entered
the pavilion. At the end of an hour he came out, bringing a book with
him written in the sacred language. He began to read it; and when he
had finished, with his countenance radiant with delight he exclaimed,
"O thrice fortunate Saadi! thou possessest at last this holy
book,--the sum of wisdom, the mirror of the good and the terror of the
wicked! May the perusal of this garden of roses lead the children of
Adam back to that original innocence from which they have so fatally
departed! Hearken to these maxims and sentences, worthy to be the
guides of mankind from the shepherd to the king:--
'He who learns the rules of wisdom without conforming his
life to them, is like the man who tills his field but never
sows any seed therein.
'Virtue does not consist in acquiring the riches of this
world, but in attaching all hearts by benefits and good
offices.
'If you are insensible to the sufferings of the unfortunate,
you do not deserve the name of a man.
'It is better to be loaded with chains for having told the
truth, than to be freed from them by means of a lie.
'A wicked person that accuses you of licentiousness should
be made to blush, in his turn, by your virtues and your
innocence.
'Man should remember that he is born of the earth, and that
his pride will one day come to an end in it.
'Crystal is found every where; but nothing is more rare than
the diamond, and hence the difference in their value.
'Instruction only bears fruit in so far as it is assisted by
your own endeavours.
'The discipline of the master is of greater benefit to the
child than the indulgence of the father.
'So long as the tree is young it is easy to fashion it as
you please; but when it has been permitted to grow, nothing
but fire can straighten it.
'Woe to the man of might, who devours the substance of the
people! At last some dire calamity will, of a surety,
overtake him.
'The most awful spectacle at the day of judgment will be,
says the prophet, to see pious slaves in paradise, and hard
and merciless masters in hell.
'Do you ask whether the ant beneath your feet has a right to
complain? Yes; just as much right as you would have if
crushed to atoms by an elephant.
'Encouragement towards the wicked is a wrong done to the
good; and the severest attack on virtue is to be indulgent
to crime.
'The perpetrator of an unjust action dies, but his memory is
held in everlasting abhorrence. The just man dies, and his
good actions bear fruit unto eternity.
'Be assured that thou wilt be rewarded if thine actions are
good, whether thou wearest the dress of the dervise or the
crown of the king.
'Would a king have nothing to fear from his enemies, let him
live in peace with his subjects.
'O my brother! the world forsakes us all. Fix thy heart on
the Creator of the universe, and all will be well with thee.
'What signifies it, whether we die in a stable or on a
throne?
'At your morning and evening prayer be able to say, Almighty
God, be pleased to remember Thy servant, who has never
forgotten Thee!'
"My ambition is satisfied," resumed the Persian, "by the possession of
this book; but a fortune of that description would be no fortune to
you, Noureddin. You stand in need of a material treasure; and this
sacred volume tells me where we ought to look for it. Quick! Mount
your steed, and let us proceed so long as Solomon favours us." Leaping
into our saddles, therefore, we set off at full gallop, and entering
the desert, journeyed thus for two days and a night.
On the evening of the second day we arrived at a city situated on a
high mountain, and surrounded with white walls which shone like
silver. We passed the night under the trees of an adjoining wood; and
next day, having offered up our prayers, looked about for some way of
entering the city, the gates of which were shut, and within which
there reigned a perfect stillness. My master went round the walls, and
in his examination of them he discovered a stone slab, in which was
fastened an iron ring. We endeavoured to move the slab, but could not.
The Persian then ordered me to take the horses and to fasten them to
the ring with our sashes; and by this means we succeeded in removing
the stone, which discovered the entrance to a subterraneous passage.
My master said to me, "Noureddin, follow me; by this passage we shall
get into the city." On leaving the subterraneous passage we heard a
noise like that which might be produced by the loud puffing of the
bellows of a forge, and we supposed for a moment that the city was
inhabited. This strange noise was nothing else than the hissing of two
winged serpents, which advanced towards us at a frightful pace. With
the sacred book in his hand the Persian advanced to meet them, and
with one touch of this talisman laid them prostrate on the ground.
This obstacle being overcome, we traversed the whole city, admiring
its squares, houses, mosques, and palaces. But what had become of the
inhabitants? By what scourge had they been cut off, or what reason had
induced them to quit so beautiful a city? How long ago was it
inhabited? My mind was lost in conjectures about what seemed so far
beyond my comprehension, and my master made no reply to the questions
which I addressed to him. At length we stopped at the open railing of
some gardens surrounding an enormous palace, which surpassed all that
the imagination could conceive. Bushy thickets; orchards covered with
flowers and fruits; enamelled meads, watered by murmuring streams;
parterres planted with the rarest and most variegated flowers, every
where met the eye. The Persian sat down under the shadow of a tree,
opened the book, and commenced reading, and when he had finished
ordered me to enter the palace. I reached it by a staircase that could
only have been constructed by the hands of genii; it was formed of the
most rare and costly marble, as were also the statues which were
placed at the sides. After having walked through many spacious and
magnificent apartments richly adorned, I entered a subterranean hall,
still larger and more splendid. A hundred crystal lustres, brilliant
with gold and precious stones, and lit up with thousands of
wax-lights, shed a refulgence more dazzling than the day. Its walls
were covered with paintings, in which the spirit of evil strove in
vain for the mastery over the spirit of good, and a long series of the
statues of justly-renowned dead princes were ranged all around. Vacant
pedestals, waiting to receive monarchs still living, whose names were
inscribed on them, were also to be seen. In the centre of this
subterranean apartment, a throne of gold arose, incrusted with pearls
and rubies. On this throne an old man was reposing, with a countenance
pale as death, but whose open eyes shone with a supernatural
brilliancy. I saluted him respectfully, but he made no gesture. I
spoke to him, and he made no reply. Seized with astonishment and fear,
I returned to my master and told him what I had seen.
"God be praised!" he said, "we are now near the end of our
enterprise. Return, Noureddin, to the old man; go up to him
fearlessly, and bring to me the chest on which his head rests."
I obeyed, and on my return to the subterranean hall I drew near to the
throne, to which three silver steps led up. When I placed my foot on
the first step the old man stood up; in spite of my surprise I
ascended the second step, when, seizing a bow, he placed a
keen-pointed arrow in it, and aimed it at me. Without any
consideration of my benefactor's orders, I jumped backwards and took
to flight anew. When the Arab saw me, he said, "Is this what you
promised me? cowardly man, come with me, and you will find inestimable
riches!" I then conducted him to the place where the old man was to be
found. When my master was near the throne, he ascended the first step,
and the old man arose; at the second step he took his bow and arrow;
and at the third he shot it at my master, who received it on the
sacred book, from which it rebounded as from a steel cuirass, and fell
broken on the ground. The old man fell back motionless on the throne,
and his eyes ceased to shine. My master then laid hold of the
mysterious chest of which he had spoken to me, and took from it the
magic key which opened subterranean recesses where heaps of pearls,
diamonds, and rubies were deposited. The Persian allowed me to take as
much as I pleased. I filled my trousers and the folds of my robe and
turban with the finest pearls, the largest diamonds, and many other
kinds of precious stones. As Saadi the Wise passed by all these
treasures without looking at them, I said to him, "O my lord, why do
you leave here all this wealth, and take away with you, as the reward
of so many fatigues, an article of so little value? The book of wisdom
is now useless; what man is there who does not think himself wise?"
"My son," replied the old man, "I am near the end of my career, and my
life has been spent in the search after true wisdom. If I have done
nothing to improve mankind, God, when I appear before Him, will
reckon with me not only for the evil I shall have done, but also for
the good I may have neglected to do. As for you, who have a wife and
children, I approve of your wishing to provide for their future
condition."
We left the enchanted city and its treasures, which I greatly
regretted not being able to carry away. When we reached the open
country, I looked back to gaze upon the palace and city, but they had
disappeared, at which I expressed my astonishment to my master, who
replied, "Noureddin, do not seek to fathom the mysteries of knowledge,
but be contented to rejoice with me at the success of our journey." We
then directed our faces towards Bagdad, and at the end of a short time
arrived there, without meeting with any thing else worth relating. My
family were rejoiced at my return and at the good fortune I had so
unexpectedly met with. The old man abode with us for some time, which
he employed in reading the Gulistan and in giving me useful counsels
as to my future conduct.
"Noureddin," he said, "you are the possessor of great wealth; know how
to make a good use of it; always remember the wretched condition in
which I found you in the mosque; beware of bad company and pretended
friends and flatterers; avoid covetousness, and be charitable toward
the poor; remember the uncertainty of riches, and how Providence often
punishes those who give way to ingratitude and pride." Besides his
good advice, he would often relate to me instructive histories by way
of example, and I shall not tire you too much if I repeat one of them
to you.
THE STORY OF THE DERVISE ABOUNADAR.
A dervise, venerable from his age, fell ill at the house of a woman
who was a widow, and who lived in a state of great poverty in the
outskirts of Balsora. He was so affected by the care and zeal with
which she had nursed him, that at the time of his departure he said to
her, "I have noticed that your means are sufficient for yourself
alone, and are not adequate for the additional support of your only
son, the young Mujahid; but if you will entrust him to my care, I will
do my utmost to repay through him the obligations which I am under to
your care."
The good woman received the proposal with pleasure, and the dervise
took his departure with the young man, stating, at the same time, that
they were to be absent two years on a journey. While travelling in
various countries the widow's son lived in opulence with his
protector, who gave him excellent instructions, attended to him in a
dangerous illness which he had, and, in short, treated him in every
respect as if he had been his only son. Mujahid often said how
grateful he was for such kindness, and the old man's constant reply
was, "My son, gratitude is shown by actions, not words; at the proper
time and place we shall see how you estimate my conduct towards you."
One day, in their journeyings, they reached a place out of the beaten
road, and the dervise said to Abdallah, "We are now at the end of our
travels; I am about to cause the earth to open and allow you to enter
a place where you will find one of the greatest treasures in the bosom
of the globe; have you courage sufficient to descend into this
subterranean recess?" Mujahid declared that he might be depended upon
for his obedience and zeal. The dervise then lighted a small fire,
into which he threw some perfumes, and when he had pronounced some
prayers the earth opened, and the dervise said to the young man, "You
can now enter; remember that it is in your power to render me a great
service, and that the present occasion is perhaps the only one when
you can prove to me that you are not ungrateful. Do not allow yourself
to be dazzled by all the wealth which you will find, but think only of
getting possession of an iron chandelier with twelve branches which
you will see near a door; lose no time in bringing it to me." The
youth promised to attend to all that was required of him, and plunged
into the subterraneous recess full of confidence in himself.
Forgetting, however, what had been so expressly enjoined upon him,
while he was busy filling his pockets with the gold and diamonds
spread around in prodigious quantities, the entrance by which he had
descended was closed. He had, however, the presence of mind to lay
hold of the iron chandelier which the dervise had urged him to bring
away; and although he was now, by the closing of the entrance, placed
in circumstances which were enough to appal a stouter heart, he did
not abandon himself to despair. While trying to discover some way of
escape from a place which was likely otherwise to be his grave, he saw
but too plainly that the opening had been closed upon him on account
of his not having strictly followed the dervise's orders; and
reflecting on the kindness and care with which he had been treated, he
bitterly reproached himself for his ingratitude. At length, after a
busy search and much anxiety, he was fortunate enough to discover a
narrow passage that led out of this dark cavern. The opening was
covered over with briers and thorns, through which he managed to
struggle, and thus recovered the light of day. He looked around him
every where for the dervise in order to deliver the chandelier to him,
but in vain; he was not to be seen.
Unable to recognize any of the places where he had been, he walked at
random, and was very much astonished to find himself, after a short
time, at his mother's door, from which he had thought himself at a
great distance. In reply to her inquiries respecting the dervise, he
frankly told her all that had happened, and the danger he had
encountered in order to gratify the fancy of the dervise; and then he
showed her the riches with which he was loaded. His mother concluded,
on seeing all this wealth, that the dervise only wanted to try his
courage and obedience, and that he ought to take advantage of his good
luck, adding, that such was no doubt the intention of the holy man.
While they gazed on these treasures with avidity, and framed a
thousand dazzling projects for spending them, the whole vanished
suddenly from their eyes. Mujahid then reproached himself again for
his ingratitude and disobedience; and looking at the iron chandelier
which alone remained of all his treasure, said, "What has happened is
just. I have lost what I had no wish to render back; and the
chandelier, which I desired to give to the dervise, remains with
me,--a proof that it belongs to him, and that the rest was improperly
obtained." So saying, he placed the chandelier in the middle of his
mother's small house.
When night came on, Mujahid thought he would put a light in the
chandelier, by way of turning it to some use. No sooner had he done
this, than a dervise immediately appeared, who, after turning round,
vanished, and threw a small coin behind him. Mujahid, whose thoughts
were occupied all next day with what he had seen the evening before,
wished to see what would be the event if he placed a light in each of
the twelve branches. He did so, and twelve dervises immediately
appeared, who, after wheeling round, also became invisible, each of
them at the same time throwing down a small coin. Every day Mujahid
repeated the same ceremony with the same success; but he could only
make it occur once in twenty-four hours. The moderate sum with which
the dervises supplied him daily was sufficient for the subsistence of
himself and his mother, and for a long time this was all that he
desired. By and by, however, his imagination began to feast itself
with the idea of the riches of the cavern, the sight of those which he
had once thought to be safe in his possession, and the schemes which
he had formed as to the use to be made of his wealth; all these things
had left so deep an impression on his mind, that he found it
impossible to rest. He resolved, therefore, if possible, to find out
the dervise, and to take him the chandelier, in the hope of obtaining
the treasure by bringing to the holy man an article for which he had
shown so strong a desire.
Fortunately Mujahid recollected the dervise's name, and the name of
the city, Magnebi, where he dwelt. He set out on his journey as soon
as possible, bidding farewell to his mother, and taking the chandelier
with him, which supplied him every evening, after being lit, with the
means of supporting himself, without having occasion to resort for
assistance to the compassion of the faithful. When he reached Magnebi,
his first inquiry was after the house where Abounadar lodged. He was
so well known, that the first person he met could tell him his
residence. On arriving at the house, or rather palace, he found fifty
porters keeping watch at the door, each of them bearing a wand with a
golden apple for its handle. The courts of the palace were crowded
with slaves and domestics; indeed, no prince's residence ever
displayed greater splendour. Mujahid, struck with astonishment and
admiration, was reluctant to proceed further. "Either," said he to
himself, "I have described the person whom I wanted imperfectly, or
those to whom I spoke must have wished to make a mock of me,
observing that I was a stranger. This is not the residence of a
dervise, but of a king."