One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  The man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together, and thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked them if they were resolved what to do? The jeweller answered “We are ready to follow you; all we hesitate about is that we are ashamed to appear thus naked.”

  Fortunately the man had it in his power to cover them sufficiently till they could get to his house. As soon as they had entered, he brought a very handsome suit for each of them. As he thought they must be hungry, and might wish to be alone, he had several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate little, especially the prince who was so dejected and dispirited, that he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host visited them several times in the course of the day, and in the evening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early. But he was no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him again to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found him breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him reason to fear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince said, “It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last words. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not tell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is, that I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always loved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. Let her know how much I was concerned at this, and request her in my name to have my body removed to Bagdad, that she may have an opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my departed soul with her prayers.” He then took notice of the master of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking him in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till it should be conveyed to Bagdad, he expired.

  The day after the prince’s death, the jeweller took the opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and arrived there in safety. He first went home to change his clothes, and then hastened to the prince’s palace, where every body was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired them to acquaint the prince’s mother that he wished to speak with her, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a hall, with several of her women about her. “Madam,” said he to her, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he brought, “God preserve you, and shower down upon you the choicest of his blessings. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes of us at his pleasure.”

  The princess would not permit him to proceed, but exclaimed, “Alas! you bring me the news of my son’s death?” She and her women at the same time wept and sobbed loudly. At length she checked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue without concealing from her the least circumstance of such a melancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done, she farther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given him in charge something more particular in his last moments? He assured her his last words were, that it was to him the most afflicting circumstance that he must die so far distant from his dear mother, and that the only thing he wished was, that she would have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly early next morning the princess set out with her women and great part of her slaves, to bring her son’s body to her own palace.

  When the jeweller, whom she had detained, had seen her depart, he returned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so accomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower of his age.

  As he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a woman standing before him. He recognized her to be Schemselnihar’s confidant. At the sight of her, his tears began to flow afresh but he said nothing to her; and going into his own house, she followed him.

  They sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation, asked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the death of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that she grieved. “Alas!” answered she, “What! is that charming prince then dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar. Beauteous souls,” continued she, “in whatsoever place ye now are, ye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted. Your bodies were an obstacle to your wishes; but Heaven has delivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union.”

  The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar’s death, and had not reflected that the confidant was in mourning, suffered fresh grief at this intelligence. “Is Schemselnihar then dead?” cried he. “She is,” replied the confidant, weeping afresh, “and it is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death were extraordinary,” continued she, “and deserve to be known to you: but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to acquaint me with those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.”

  The jeweller then gave the confidant the information she desired; and after he had told her all, even to the departure of the prince’s mother to bring her son’s body to Bagdad, she began and said, “You have not forgotten that I told you the caliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace. He had, as we had every reason to believe, been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince by the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You may imagine, he would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar’s conduct, and give striking proofs of his jealousy and of his impending vengeance against the prince. But this was by no means the case. He pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for what had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about the city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only conclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behavior towards her, as you will hear.

  “He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed that the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty (for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear), with a goodness worthy himself, he said ‘Schemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing before me thus with an air which gives me infinite pain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved you, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the continued demonstrations I have given of it. I can never change my mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies, Schemselnihar,’ proceeded he, ‘and those enemies have insinuated things against your conduct, but all they have said against you has not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this melancholy, and prepare to entertain me this night with some amusing conversation, after your accustomed manner.’ He said many other obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.

  “The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the caliph’s kindness; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the more she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for ever, from her prince, without whom she could not live.

  “This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,” continued the confidant, “took place whilst I was come to speak to you, and I learned the particulars of it from my companions who were present. But I had no sooner left you,” proceeded she, “than I went to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what happened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and as she though I came from you, she drew near me, and whispering me, said, ‘I am much obliged to you for the service you have done me, but I feel it will be the last.’ She said no more; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to comfort her.

  “The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments which her women played upon, and the collation was immediately served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit down with him on the sofa; she put such a force upon herself to please him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she was hardly set down, when she fell backwards. The caliph believed she had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never recovered, and in this manner we lost her.

  “The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to refrain from tears; and before he left the room ordered all the musical instruments to be broken; this was immediately done. I stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and dressed her for her funer
al, bathing her with my tears. The caliph had her interred in a magnificent tomb he had erected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in. Now since you tell me,” said she, “the prince of Persia’s body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb.”

  The jeweller was much surprised at this resolution of the confidant, and said, “Certainly you do not consider that the caliph will never suffer this?” “You think the thing impossible,” replied she; “it is not. You will alter your opinion when I tell you that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves, with a pension to each for their support. He has committed to me the care and keeping of my mistress’s tomb, and allotted me an annual income for that purpose, and for my maintenance. Besides, the caliph, who was not ignorant of the amour between Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have already told you, without being offended, will not be sorry if after her death he be buried with her.” To all this the jeweller had not a word to say. He earnestly entreated the confidant to conduct him to her mistress’s tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast concourse of people of both sexes, who were come thither from all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confidant, who was waiting hard by, said to her, “I am now so far from thinking that what you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need only publish abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his mistress. Before his corpse arrives, all Bagdad will concur to desire that two such faithful lovers, whom nothing could divide in affection whilst they lived, should not be separated when dead.” It happened as he said; for as soon as it was known that the corpse was within a day’s journey of the city, an infinite number of people went above twenty miles to meet it, and afterwards walked before it till it came to the city gate; where the confidant, waiting for that purpose, presented herself before the prince’s mother, and begged of her in the name of the whole city, who earnestly desired it, that she would be pleased to consent that the bodies of the two lovers, who had but one heart whilst they lived, from the time their mutual passion commenced, might be buried in the same tomb. The princess immediately consented; and the corpse of the prince, instead of being deposited in his own burying-place, was laid by Schemselnihar’s side, after it had been carried along in procession at the head of an infinite number of people of all ranks. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world where the Mahummedan religion prevails have held that tomb in the highest veneration, and pay their devotions at it.

  The Story of the Loves of Kummir Al Zummaun, Prince of

  the Isles of the Children of Khaledan, and of Badoura,

  Princess of China.

  About twenty days’ sail from the coast of Persia, there are islands in the main ocean called the Islands of the Children of Khaledan. These islands are divided into four great provinces, which have all of them very flourishing and populous cities, forming together a powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by a king named Shaw Zummaun, who had four lawful wives, all daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.

  Shaw Zummaun thought himself the most happy monarch of the world, on account of his peaceful and prosperous reign. One thing only disturbed his happiness; which was, that he was advanced in years, and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew not to what to attribute this barrenness; and what increased his affliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a successor. He dissembled his discontent, and this dissimulation only heightened his uneasiness. At length he broke silence; and one day after he had complained bitterly of his misfortune to his grand vizier, he asked him if he knew any remedy for it?

  That wise minister replied, “If what your majesty requires of me had depended on the ordinary rules of human wisdom, you had soon had an answer to your satisfaction; but my experience and knowledge fall far short of your question. It is to God only that we can apply in cases of this kind. In the midst of our prosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, he is pleased to mortify us in some instance, that we may address our thoughts to him, acknowledge his omnipotence, and ask of him what we ought to expect from him alone. Your majesty has subjects,” proceeded he “who make a profession of honouring and serving God, and suffering great hardships for his sake; to them I would advise you to have recourse, and engage them, by alms, to join their prayers with yours. Perhaps some one among them may be so pure and pleasing to God as to obtain a hearing for your prayers.”

  Shaw Zummaun approved this advice, and thanked his vizier. He immediately caused alms to be given to every community of these holy men in his dominions: and having sent for the superiors, declared to them his intention, and desired them to acquaint their devout men with it.

  The king obtained of Heaven what he requested, for in nine months’ time he had a son by one of his wives. To express his gratitude to Heaven, he sent fresh alms to the communities of devotees, and the prince’s birth-day was celebrated not only in his capital, but throughout his dominions, for a whole week. The prince was brought to him as soon as born, and he found him so beautiful that he gave him the name of Kummir al Zummaun, or Moon of the Age.

  He was brought up with all imaginable care; and when he had arrived at a proper age, his father appointed him an experienced governor and able preceptors. These persons, distinguished by their capacity, found in him a ready wit capable of receiving all the instructions that were proper to be given him, as well in relation to morals as other knowledge which a prince ought to possess. As he grew up, he learned all his exercises, and acquitted himself with such grace and wonderful address, as to charm all that saw him, and particularly the sultan his father.

  When he had attained the age of fifteen, the sultan, who tenderly loved him, and gave him every day new marks of his affection, proposed to afford a still higher demonstration by resigning his throne to him, and he accordingly acquainted his grand vizier with his intentions. “I fear,” said he, “lest my son should lose in the inactivity of youth those advantages which nature and my education have give him; therefore, since I am advanced in age, and ought to think of retirement I propose to resign the government to him, and pass the remainder of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I have borne the fatigue of a crown till I am weary of it, and think it is now proper for me to retire.”

  The grand vizier declined offering all the reasons he could have alleged to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the contrary, he appeared to acquiesce with him in his opinion. “Sir,” replied he, “the prince is yet but young, and it would not, in my humble opinion, be advisable to burden him with the weight of a crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with great reason, his youth may be corrupted by indolence: but to avoid this danger, do not you think it would be proper to marry him? Marriage forms attachment, and prevents dissipation. Your majesty might then admit him of your council, where he would learn by degrees the art of reigning; and so be prepared to receive your authority, whenever by your own experience you shall think him qualified.”

  Shaw Zummaun approved the advice of his prime minister; and summoned the prince to appear before him, at the same time that he dismissed the grand vizier.

  The prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at certain times without being sent for, was a little startled at this summons; when, therefore, he came into his presence, he saluted him with great respect, and stood with his eyes fixed on the ground.

  The sultan perceiving his constraint, addressed him with great mildness, “Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for you?” The prince modestly replied, “God alone knows the heart: I shall hear it from your majesty with pleasure.” “I sent for you,” resumed the sultan, “to inform you that it is my intention to provide a proper marriage for you: what do you think of my design?”

  The prince hear
d this with great uneasiness: he was greatly agitated, and knew not what answer to make. After a few moments silence, he replied, “Sir, I beseech you to pardon me if I seem surprised at the declaration you have made. I did not expect such proposals at my present age. I know not whether I could prevail on myself to marry, on account of the trouble incident to a married life, and the many treacheries of women, which I have read of. I may not be always of the same mind, yet I conceive it will require time to determine on what your majesty requires of me.”

  The prince’s answer extremely afflicted his father. He was not a little grieved to discover his aversion to marriage; yet would not charge him with disobedience, nor exert his paternal authority. He contented himself with telling him, he would not force his inclinations, but give him time to consider of the proposal; and reflect, that a prince destined to govern a great kingdom ought to take some care to leave a successor; and that in giving himself that satisfaction he communicated it to his father, who would be glad to see himself revive in his son and his issue.

  Shaw Zummaun said no more to the prince but admitted him into his council, and gave him every reason to be satisfied. At the end of the year he took him aside, and said to him; “My son, have you thoroughly considered what I proposed to you last year about marrying? Will you still refuse me that pleasure I expect from your obedience, and suffer me to die without affording me that satisfaction?”

  The prince seemed less disconcerted than before; and was not long answering his father to this effect: “Sir, I have not neglected to consider of your proposal; but after the maturest reflection find myself more confirmed in my resolution to continue in a state of celibacy. The infinite mischief which women have caused in the world, and which are on record in our histories, and the accounts I daily hear to their disadvantage, are the motives which powerfully influence me against having any thing to do with them; so that I hope your majesty will pardon me if I presume to tell you, it will be in vain to solicit me any further upon this subject.” As soon as he had thus spoken, he quitted the sultan abruptly without waiting his answer.