One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  ‘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 ab
le 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 m
ock of me, observing that I was a stranger. This is not the residence of a dervise, but of a king.”

  Mujahid was in this state of embarrassment when a man came up to him and said, “You are welcome, Mujahid; my master, Abounadar, has been long expecting you;” and so saying, he conducted him into a magnificent garden, where the dervise was seated. Mujahid, struck with the riches which he saw every where around him, would have thrown himself at his feet, but Abounadar would not permit him, and interrupted him when he was about to make a merit of bringing back the chandelier which he presented to him, by saying, “You are an ungrateful wretch. Do you think to impose upon me? I know all your thoughts; and if you had known the worth of this chandelier, you would never have brought it to me. I shall now make you acquainted with its true use.” In each of the branches of the chandelier he now placed a light; and when the dervises had turned round, Abounadar gave each of them a blow with a stick, and immediately they were converted into twelve heaps of sequins, diamonds, and other precious stones. “Look,” he said, “at the use to be made of this wonderful chandelier. My only reason, however, for wishing to place it in my cabinet, was on account of its being a talisman composed by a sage whom I revered; and I shall be always happy to show it to persons who visit me. To prove to you,” he continued, “that curiosity is the only reason which induced me to procure the lamp, take the keys of my cellars, open them, and judge for yourself of the extent of my opulence, and say if I should not be the most insatiably avaricious of all men, not to be contented with what I have.” Mujahid took the keys, and made a survey of twelve magazines so filled with every description of precious stones, that he was unable to tell which of them most deserved his admiration. Regret at having restored the chandelier, and at not having discovered its uses, now wrung his heart intensely. Abounadar seemed not to perceive this, but on the contrary loaded Mujahid with caresses, kept him for some days in his palace, and desired his servants to treat him as they would himself. On the evening before the day fixed for his departure, Abounadar said to him, “Mujahid, my son, I think, from what has occurred, that you are now cured of the frightful sin of ingratitude; however, I owe you something for having undertaken so long a journey for the purpose of bringing to me an article which I wished to possess. You may now depart; I will detain you no longer. To-morrow you will find at the gate of my palace one of my horses to carry you home. I will make you a present of it, together with a slave who will bring you two camels loaded with gold and precious stones, which you can select for yourself from among my treasures.”