One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  Achmet replied, “I cannot say whether it is better in the sight of Allah to give away or to retain the goods with which he has endowed thee. As for myself, I have nothing to give, for I have a very small fortune, and a great many children; but if I were rich and without heirs, I would bury my gold in some corner of my garden, sooner than bestow it to gratify men who are either wicked or ungrateful, and such they almost all are. This gold would sooner or later be discovered by some one whom Allah desired to enrich, and thus I should not be responsible for the use that was made of it.”

  “Thy idea is not, perhaps, a bad one,” said Selim, “and I will certainly reflect upon it.”

  While Selim and his neighbour were talking together, a Tunisian of miserable aspect approached the spot. This was no other than Hussein Muley, a physician of Tunis. He was already advanced in years, and passed for a man rich in science, but poor in money. Selim requested this man to rest himself in his house, and his invitation being accepted, he saluted his neighbour Achmet, and conducted his guest into one of the fresh and salubrious halls of his smiling abode. Hussein Muley, fatigued by two hours’ walk under a broiling sun, threw himself upon a divan, whilst fruits and coffee were abundantly served to him. When he had somewhat reposed and refreshed himself, Selim said to him in a friendly manner, “I am happy to receive thee at my house, because thou art a wise man, and of good renown in thy profession. Thou hast travelled, read, and seen life; thou must of necessity be able to judge wisely of the things which relate to this life. I should therefore be very glad to have thy opinion upon a project which I have formed. I have become very rich by inheritance; and having no children, I think of disposing, while yet living, of a great portion of my wealth. In what way dost thou consider it would be most desirable to employ this wealth?”

  Hussein Muley regarded Selim with surprise.

  “Thou wouldst give away a great portion of what thou hast,” said he. “This is, indeed, a marvellous thing. I have, as thou sayest, travelled, read, and seen life, but never yet have I heard of any man giving away, during his lifetime, the greater part of his fortune.”

  “Does that prove that it would be wrong to do so?” demanded Selim.

  “I know not,” replied the Tunisian, falling into a fit of profound meditation, and looking all the while at the tips of his old slippers, instead of contemplating from afar the ever-changing sea and azure sky.

  “On what dost thou muse?” at length demanded Selim.

  “I was thinking — I was thinking that if the duration of man’s life were longer, it would be better both for those who study science, and for those who are the fortunate possessors of great wealth; it would be equally good for the poor, since they might one day hope to enjoy the fruit of their toils, if they took pains to become rich.”

  “What profits it to meditate so deeply upon a thing which all the reflections of man cannot change?”

  “I do not regard the prolongation of human existence as impossible. Hitherto physicians have most frequently been instrumental in abridging it. My aim is to repair the wrongs they have involuntarily committed. I would have succeeding ages regard my memory with gratitude.”

  “What sayest thou?” cried Selim. “Thou wouldst change the order of things, the whole course of nature?”

  “Nothing can convince me that we follow the course of nature by dying at sixty or eighty years of age, when men formerly lived hundreds of years. On the contrary, I am certain that we were created to live longer, much longer, and I consecrate all my days, my nights, and my studies to the pursuit of a discovery which is destined to prolong the existence of mankind, and renew the state of things as they were when men married at a hundred years of age, and lived to see their sons’ sons grow up and marry in their turn. Why, have I often asked myself, should our lives be shorter than those of an oak of the forests, of a serpent, or even of a vulture?”

  “If we lived as long as an oak,” replied Selim, “the cedars and the palm trees would still live longer than we.”

  “Thou dost but jest, but thy jesting is ill-timed; nothing is more serious than the thought which occupies me. Thou thyself, confess now, wouldst thou not be enchanted to see suns succeed suns, and to contemplate for ages to come the wonders of the heavens and the fecundity of the earth?”

  Selim reflected a little, and replied, “Man does not love death, it is true; nevertheless life is not so desirable as thou wouldst fain have us believe.”

  “Then thou desirest not to prolong thy days upon the earth? For myself, I confess that I desire it greatly; so that besides my days and my nights, I consecrate all that I glean from learned researches to the accomplishment of this great end. I am already upon the track. But unfortunately gold is wanting — this gold which thou despisest, or knowest not how to employ — this gold would in my hands contribute to the happiness of future generations. With gold — with gold you can purchase books of precious value, measure the stars, dig the bowels of the earth, rend metals from her bosom, decompose substances, in short, penetrate into every mystery. Yes, gold which heretofore has been unable to bestow a day, nay an hour upon its possessor, gold in my hands would accomplish a wondrous discovery. I should certainly not keep the secret for myself alone, and I should share it first of all with the man whose wealth had helped me to the means of obtaining it.”

  “But shouldst thou discover the means of prolonging my life for many centuries, I should not then be rich enough to give away half of my fortune.”

  “What!” cried the physician of Tunis, “is not life preferable to all the riches in the world? and if at this moment it were said to thee, ‘thou shalt die, or give up the whole of thy possessions,’ wouldst thou not readily yield them to avoid the thrust of a yataghan, or the discharge of a gun in thy breast?”

  “Thou puzzlest me, but I think that in such a case I should give up my property to preserve my life.”

  “Thou seest then that life is dear, even to the poor. Why not therefore endeavour to prolong thine own? Even if my profound science did not succeed, thou wouldst still be rich enough to enjoy an existence of the shorter duration.”

  Listening thus to the learned physician, Selim fell by degrees into a profound reverie, and the Tunisian, instead of continuing his discourse, gave himself up to meditation also; so that both these two men became absorbed in their own dreams in presence of each other, but without communicating their ideas, and Allah alone knows of what they were thinking.

  After long and silent reflection, Selim said to Hussein Muley, “Before seeing thee I had intended to bestow while yet alive one-half of my fortune in making others happy. It will, I think, be no change of purpose, if I aid thee in pursuing those learned researches which tend to prolong the life of man. For which reason, Hussein Muley, I propose at once to present thee with the gold of which thou hast need. Come with me.”

  The Tunisian, appearing more astonished than rejoiced at these words, gravely arose, followed Selim into another apartment in the house, and received from him a little casket filled with pieces of gold.

  “Employ this wisely,” said Selim, “and communicate to me the result of thy labour.”

  “I will not fail to do so,” replied Hussein Muley. And clasping the precious casket to his breast, he exclaimed, “Here then is the means of satisfying my thirst for knowledge, of surmounting all obstacles, of snatching from the past the secret which shall add hundreds of years to the existence of man, and prolong his days to the space of those of his fathers. Selim,” added he, “thou dost a meritorious action in giving me this. I need not thank thee, because I am going to work for thee as for myself; nevertheless I do thank thee, and with my whole heart.”

  Having said these words the learned physician withdrew gravely, and with an air of deep abstraction.

  Selim was not less preoccupied. Left to himself, he meditated long and profoundly on long and short lives, and on the prodigies accomplished by science, and he ended by asking himself whether he should confide to the sage mufti, whom h
e was soon about to see again, what he had done for Hussein Muley, and his hope of beholding the existence of the human species prolonged to an almost indefinite period. His final resolution was to admit no one to his confidence in the matter, but to await in silence the marvellous discovery of his new friend Hussein Muley, the physician of Tunis.

  Several months passed by without the reappearance of the latter, but when at length he returned to Boudjaréah he was yellower, leaner, and more attenuated even than a man who had crossed on foot the mighty desert of Sahara. His limbs, in fact, could scarcely support his trembling frame.

  “Well,” said Selim, “what has befallen thee? art thou sick, or dost thou return to me perishing of hunger?”

  “No, but I have travelled night and day beneath the pale light of the stars, and the burning rays of the sun, and have often forgotten to take necessary sustenance, so deeply was I absorbed in my studies.”

  “Well, and the result?”

  “Alas! I have not yet succeeded as I could desire. Thus far have I attained only, that I have secured the power of prolonging our days fifty years.”

  Having uttered these words, Hussein Muley sorrowfully clasped his withered hands upon his breast, and then added:

  “I know that such a discovery would afford intense joy to any other but myself, but it is far from satisfying me. To live fifty years longer than usual, what is that?”

  “It is something, nevertheless,” replied Selim, “and wilt thou tell me what is necessary to be done, in order to add fifty years to one’s existence?”

  “Will I tell thee?” cried the Tunisian; “I am come expressly for that purpose, and to give thee this powder. It must be taken every morning fasting, for one year, three months, a week, and a day, without fail.”

  “I must write down these directions,” said Selim.

  He wrote them down at once, and then asked, “Dost thou not think thou shouldst rest satisfied with thy discovery, and begin to live well, and sleep well, in order to enjoy the remaining years of thy life?”

  “I have no desire to repose yet from my labours. Of what account are fifty years added to sixty or eighty, soon to be over for me? No, no, I would live two centuries at the least, to enjoy the fruits of my toil, and make the fortunes of my children, and my children’s children. For thou dost not imagine we shall at first give to every one for nothing this magnificent secret, which has cost us so much. It is this secret which will procure us the means of living in splendour to the end of our days. Thou canst, for heavy sums of money, dispose of the powder which I shall have composed to whomsoever thou pleasest, while I on my part equally will part with it for gold; and when at length we die, surfeited with life, we will leave our secret to the multitude that survives us.”

  “This arrangement seems to me just, and well conceived. Nevertheless, I desire not to sell the powder, but may I bestow it, and at once, upon one or two men whom I esteem highly?”

  “No, let us not yet draw attention to our happy fortune; let us wait until my discovery shall be completely perfected.”

  “Agreed; but I lament to see thee yellow, thin, and attenuated, as thou art.”

  “Oh! that is nothing,” said the Tunisian, striking his forehead with his hands; “do not let my haggard appearance disturb thee. I would rather have nothing but skin upon my bones, and keep my secret to myself. I shall soon regain my flesh and my complexion. No, my health causes me no uneasiness. I merely suffer from anxiety, which arises from not having money sufficient for the prosecution of my studies.”

  “Dost thou require much?” demanded Selim.

  “Ah! yes, much,” replied Hussein with a sigh; “and if I fail in procuring it, instead of living fifty years longer than the usual course of things, I will either starve myself to death, or drown myself in the well of my house.”

  “Beware of acting thus,” said Selim. “I can still give thee something; make use of that, and afterwards follow my advice, and sell to some rich man thy powder, in order to meet the expenses of thy lengthened researches.”

  Hussein Muley appeared to meditate profoundly with his forehead buried in his hands, and seemed not to listen to Selim, but it is not improbable that he heard him very well.

  “Thou dost not listen to me,” continued Selim. “Hussein! Hussein! I will give thee another little casket of gold; but after this casket I have nothing more to give thee. There will only remain just sufficient for me, during the time that I hope to live, thanks to thy powder. If thou discoverest another still more marvellous, thou wilt give it me, at least for my own use, wilt thou not?”

  Hussein Muley seemed suddenly to come to himself, and exclaimed:

  “Oh! I have at length found that of which I was in search! Yes, one herb alone is now wanting; I will go in quest of it, were it at the other end of the earth, and I will resolve the great problem which has occupied me for more than thirty years. Selim! Selim! entrust to my keeping what thou canst still consecrate to the happiness of mankind, and rest assured that thou wilt merit the admiration and the gratitude of ages to come.”

  “I desire neither the one nor the other,” replied Selim; “I only wish to do a little good, that is all. Shall I succeed in my purpose? I will confess to thee, Hussein Muley, that I have more than once regretted devoting my fortune to a discovery which may prove more fatal than useful to the world; for the world is already peopled enough, and what would it be, if men lived for several centuries? Would they not kill each other for want of room?”

  “Do they not already kill each other by sea and by land?” said Hussein Muley with a strange smile. “Come,” continued he, “do not disquiet thyself about what will some day happen upon the earth; profit by what fate offers thee, and prolong thy days in peace.”

  Having thus spoken, he took the second casket proffered him by Selim, put it under his arm, and said in a grave tone:

  “I am about to undertake a journey into Asia. There, near the Indies, is a high mountain, Mount Himalaya — dost thou not know it?”

  “No,” answered Selim.

  “Well, nor I either; but I go to cull from its summit, covered with perpetual snows, a plant, which will complete the discoveries I have already made.”

  “I thought that no plant was ever to be found on those mountain tops covered with perpetual snow and frost?”

  “There grows none, but that of which I have immediate need; I am going in quest of it, and will show it thee on my return.”

  “It is well,” said Selim, and they separated.

  Hussein Muley retreated with rapid strides.

  Selim carefully placed in a small box the powder which he was to take fasting, during one year, three months, a week, and a day, and he began from the very next day to administer to himself this drug, which happily he did not find to be very nauseous to the taste.

  Meanwhile the Tunisian set out from Aldgezaire with his wife, his children, and several chests, containing no doubt his books, and the papers necessary for his studies; but Selim never saw him more. He awaited his return, three, five, ten years, and, as he judged that ten years should suffice to go to Asia, and scale the highest mountain there, he began to think that the yellow, thin, and learned Tunisian was either dead, or else had taken advantage of his credulity and ignorance.

  Whilst these thoughts occupied his mind, an epidemic broke out in Aldgezaire; Selim was attacked by it.

  He therefore begged the wise mufti, who was still alive, to come and visit him; and then with that burst of confidence which seizes men in the hour of danger, he opened his heart to him, and related how he had given two caskets full of gold to Hussein Muley, in the hope of prolonging the existence of mankind for many centuries.

  The wise mufti stroked his venerable beard and exclaimed:

  “Selim, Selim, thou hast been played upon by a swindler, to whom thou hast imprudently confided thy generous thoughts. This proves the truth of what I one day said to thee, ‘With the best intentions we may commit the most foolish actions.’”

&
nbsp; “Ah!” said Selim sorrowfully, “my misfortune has been in not spontaneously following the first impulse of my heart, for I had really the wish to do good, but in taking counsel of one and another I have followed the worst I received.”

  “Yes,” replied the mufti, “thou mightest perhaps have acted wisely in following thy first idea; at the same time, if thou hadst, in accordance with my advice, reflected longer upon thy projects of benevolence, it is certain that thou wouldst not have given thy gold to a cheat who has done nothing but laugh at thy credulity.”

  Selim willingly consented to acknowledge his fault. He confessed that it is useless to take the opinion of the wise and learned, if we do not mean to profit by it; then he prostrated himself devoutly before Allah, recovered his health by degrees, and caused a large sum of money to be distributed among the poor of the mosques, for he relied no longer on the hundreds of years of existence which were to come to him from Mount Himalaya, any more than on the powder of longevity.

  VI.

  THE NOSE FOR GOLD.

  Mohammed and Yousouf, young Moors, born in Aldgezaire, had loved each other from infancy, and increasing years only served to strengthen the bonds of their attachment. Besides the happiness they enjoyed in their mutual affection, their friendship tended also to elevate their characters, and make them remarkable, for every body knows that constant friendships are never the lot of vulgar minds. These two young men, therefore, raised themselves above the level of the vulgar herd by the fidelity of their affection; they were cited as models in their native city; people smiled with pleasure on seeing them pass, always together, ever in good humour; and although they were far from being rich, yet their fate was envied by every one.

  Mohammed and Yousouf generally dressed alike, and they had recourse to the same trade to gain their living. Their only trouble, — there must always be some in this world, — arose from the shops in which they were engaged during the day being separated from each other; evening, it is true, reunited them in the same dwelling, but that was not enough for them. When they married even, they contrived that it should be to each other’s relatives. One family established itself on the first floor of the house, the other immediately above, and the two friends continued to love as heretofore, and to rejoice in their common felicity.