Arabian Nights

by Richard Burton

  Thereupon the ox arose, bellowed aloud, and thanked the ass. “Tomorrow, I’ll certainly go out into the fields with them,” he said, and he ate up all his food and even licked his manger. (All this took place while the merchant was listening to their talk.)

  Next morning the merchant and his wife went to the ox’s stall and sat down, and the driver came and led the ox out. Upon seeing his owner, the beast whisked his tail, broke wind, and frisked about so merrily that the merchant laughed loudly and kept laughing until he fell over on his back.

  “Why are you laughing like this so much?” his wife asked.

  “I laughed at a secret, something that I heard and saw, but I can’t reveal it to you. If I do, I’ll die.”

  “Well, I insist!” replied his wife. “Tell me why you laughed so loudly and what your secret is! I don’t care if you have to die.”

  “It has something to do with the language of birds and beasts, but I’m forbidden to tell it to you.”

  “By Allah, you’re lying!” she exclaimed. “This is a mere pretext. You were laughing at nobody except me, and now you want to hide something from me. But, by the Lord of the Heavens, if you don’t tell me the cause, I won’t sleep with you anymore. I’ll leave you at once!” And she sat down and cried.

  “Why are you weeping?” the merchant responded. “Stop all this jabbering and crying!”

  “Tell me why you laughed!”

  “Listen, I’m telling you the truth. When Allah granted me the gift of understanding the language of the birds and beasts, I made a vow never to disclose the secret under pain of death.”

  “No matter,” cried she. “Tell me what the ox and donkey were saying, and if you have to die, you have to die.”

  And she did not stop nagging him until he was worn out and totally distraught. So at last he said, “Summon your father and mother, our kith and kin, and some of our neighbors.”

  While she went about doing this, he sent for the lawyers and assessors, intending to make his will, reveal his secret to her, and die under the penalty of death, since his love for her was immense. She was his cousin, the daughter of his father’s brother, and the mother of his children, and he had lived with her for a hundred and twenty years.

  Now, after all the members of the family and the neighbors had gathered, the farmer said to them, “Something strange happened to me some time ago, but if I reveal my secret story to anyone, I am bound to die.”

  As a result of his remarks, everyone present began saying to the woman, “May Allah be with you, stop being so shamefully obstinate and realize what the consequences are. Otherwise, your husband and father of your children will die.”

  “I refuse to change my mind until he tells me his secret,” she replied, “even though he may have to die.”

  So they stopped trying to persuade her, and the farmer got up and withdrew to a small chicken house in order to be by himself and pray before his death. Afterward he was going to return to them, tell his secret, and die. Now, in this chicken house the farmer had some fifty hens under one cock, and while he was getting ready to say his farewell to his people, he heard one of his farm dogs talking to the cock, who was flapping his wings, crowing lustily, and jumping from one hen’s back to another and treading all in turn.

  “Oh Chanticleer!” the dog cried out. “How can you be so mean and shameless! Whoever brought you up should be burned at the stake! Aren’t you ashamed of doing such things on a day such as this?”

  “And just what is so special about today?” asked the rooster.

  “Don’t you know that our master is preparing for his death today?” the dog responded. “His wife is determined that he must reveal the secret taught to him by Allah, and the moment he does this he’s bound to die. We dogs are all mourning already, but you, you flap your wings, crow as loud as you can, and tread hen after hen. Is this the time for having fun and taking your pleasure? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

  “By Allah,” retorted the cock, “is our master a nitwit? Why doesn’t he come to his senses? If he can’t manage matters with a single wife, his life is not worth prolonging. Now I have some fifty dame partlets, and I please this one and provoke the other and starve one and stuff another. And through my good governance, they are all well under my control. Our master claims that he is smart and wise, but he has only one wife and hasn’t discovered yet how to deal with her.”

  “Well, what should our master do?” asked the dog.

  “He should get up right away,” answered the cock, “and take some twigs from that mulberry tree over there and give her a good beating until she cries: ‘I repent, oh, my lord! I’ll never ask you another question as long as I live!’ Then let him beat her nice and hard once more, and after he does this, he will sleep soundly and enjoy life. But this master of ours does not appear to have an iota of good sense or judgment.”

  When the merchant heard the wise words spoken by the cock to the dog, he arose in haste, cut some mulberry twigs, and hid them in his wife’s room. Then he called to her, “Come into your room so that I may tell you the secret and die without anyone looking on.”

  She entered the room, and he locked the door. All of a sudden he began to beat her back, shoulders, ribs, arms, and legs in a great fury. “Are you going to continue to ask questions about things that don’t concern you?” And he kept beating her until she was almost unconscious.

  Soon she cried out, “I repent! By Allah, I won’t ask you any more questions. I mean it. I repent with all my heart and life!”

  Then she kissed his hands and feet, and he led her out of the room, submissive as a wife should be. Her parents and the entire company rejoiced, and sadness and mourning were changed into joy and gladness. Thus the merchant learned family discipline from his cock, and he and his wife lived happily ever after until death.

  “And the same thing will happen to you, too, my daughter!” continued the vizier. “Unless you give up pursuing this matter, I’ll do what the merchant did to his wife.”

  But she answered him with firm resolution, “I won’t give up, Father, nor shall this tale make me change my mind. So stop your talk and babbling. I won’t listen to your words, and if you try to prevent me, I’ll go to the king alone and say, ‘I asked my father to allow me to marry you, but he refused, since he begrudged you the right to have a maiden like me.’”

  “Must it be this way?” her father asked.

  “Indeed, it must.”

  Since the vizier was now weary of contending with his daughter and realized he could not dissuade her from doing what she wanted, he went to King Shahryar, and after blessing him and kissing the ground before him, told him all about his dispute with his daughter and how he now intended to bring her to him that night.

  The king was most astonished, since he had made a special exception of the vizier’s daughter, and he said to him, “Oh most faithful of counselors, how has this come about? You know that I have sworn by Almighty Allah that after I enter her this night, I shall say to you tomorrow morning: ‘Take her and slay her!’ And if you don’t do this, I’ll slay you in her place.”

  “May Allah guide you to glory and give you long life, your majesty,” answered the vizier. “It was she who made this decision. I have told her what is to happen and more, but she won’t listen to me, and she insists on spending this coming night with your highness.”

  So Shahryar rejoiced greatly and said, “So be it. Go get her ready and bring her to me this night.”

  The vizier returned to his daughter and informed her of the king’s command. “By Allah, please don’t make your father do this. I’m sure to lose you.”

  But Scheherazade rejoiced and got everything ready that she needed. Then she said to her younger sister, Dunazade, “Pay attention to what I tell you! After I have entered the king’s private chamber, I’ll send for you, and when you come and see that he has had his carnal pleasure with me, you’re to say to me: ‘Oh sister, since you’re not sleepy, tell me some new delightful story to en
tertain us while we are still awake.’ And I’ll tell you a tale that will be our salvation, if it pleases Allah, for I’m going to tell a tale that will, I hope, divert the king from his bloodthirsty custom.”

  “I’ll do whatever you say,” Dunazade replied, “with all my heart.”

  So when it was night, their father led Scheherazade to the king, who was glad to see her and asked, “Have you brought me what I need?”

  “I have,” the vizier said.

  But when the king took her to his bed, began toying with her, and was about to penetrate her, she wept, and consequently he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Your majesty,” she replied, “I have a younger sister, and I would like very much to take leave of her tonight before dawn comes.”

  So he sent at once for Dunazade, and she came and kissed the ground, and he permitted her to take a seat near the foot of the couch. Then the king arose and did away with his bride’s maidenhead, and the three fell asleep. But when midnight arrived, Scheherazade awoke and signaled to her sister, Dunazade, who sat up and said, “May Allah be with you, my sister, please tell us some delightful story to while away the waking hours before dawn.”

  “I’d be most happy and willing to do this,” answered Scheherazade, “if this pious and auspicious king will permit me.”

  “Permission granted,” said the king, who happened to be sleepless and restless and was therefore pleased by the prospect of hearing her story. So Scheherazade rejoiced, and on the first night of many nights to come, she began telling the tales that were to fill the volumes of The Arabian Nights.

  The Tale of the Merchant and the Jinnee

  There was once a very wealthy merchant who had a great deal of business in various cities. Now, one day he mounted his horse and went forth to collect debts that were owed to him in certain towns. The heat was so terrible along the way that he dismounted and sat down beneath a tree. He put his hand into his saddlebags, took out some bread and dry dates, and began to break his fast. When he had finished eating the dates, he threw away the pits with all his might, and suddenly a huge jinnee appeared brandishing a drawn sword. As he approached the merchant, he said, “Stand up so I can slay you just as you’ve slain my son!”

  “How have I slain your son?” asked the merchant.

  “When you ate the dates and threw away the pits, they struck my son in the breast as he was walking by, and he died right on the spot.”

  “By Allah, if I slew your son,” the merchant responded, “I slew him by chance. Therefore, I beg your pardon.”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” asserted the jinnee. “You must die.” Then he seized the merchant, threw him down on the ground, and raised his sword to strike him. But the merchant wept and cried out, “May Allah take pity on me and hear my plea!”

  “Cut your words short,” the jinnee answered. “You must die.”

  But the merchant pleaded with him, “Listen to me. There’s a great deal of money that’s owed to me. I’m very wealthy and have a wife and children and many pledges in hand. So, permit me to go home and take care of all my claims, and I shall come back to you at the beginning of the new year. Allah be my witness that I’ll return to you, and then you can do what you want with me.”

  The jinnee accepted his promise and let him go. So the merchant returned to his city and completed all his transactions. He gave all people their due, and after informing his wife and children what had happened to him, he appointed a guardian and lived with his family for a full year. At the end of that time, he performed the Wuzu ablution to purify himself before death, took his shroud under his arm, said farewell to family, friends, and neighbors, and went forth against his own will. As he left, they began weeping, wailing, and beating their breasts, but he traveled until he arrived at the same garden where he had encountered the jinnee. The day of his arrival was the beginning of the new year, and as he sat weeping over what had happened to him, a very old and honorable sheikh approached, leading a gazelle on a chain. After saluting the merchant and wishing him a long life, he asked, “Why are you sitting all alone in this place? Don’t you know that it’s the abode of evil spirits?”

  The merchant related to him what had happened with the jinnee, and the old man was astounded and said, “By Allah, I’ve never seen such fidelity, nor have I ever heard such a strange story. If it were engraved for all to see, it would serve as a warning for all those who need to be warned.” Then, seating himself near the merchant, he said. “My brother, I won’t leave you until I see what is going to happen between you and this ifrit.”

  And after he sat down and the two were talking, the merchant became extremely anxious, terrified, and depressed. Just then a second sheikh approached them, and with him were two dogs, both black greyhounds. After the second man greeted them with the salaam, he asked them, “Why are you sitting in this place? Don’t you know that it is the abode of the demon jinnees?”

  So they told him the tale from beginning to end, and they had not been conversing very long before a third sheikh arrived, and with him was a she-mule with a bright bay coat. He saluted them and asked them why they were seated in that place, and they told him the entire story, and he too sat down with them. Just then a dust cloud advanced, and a mighty sand devil appeared amidst the waste. Soon the cloud opened, revealing the jinnee with a drawn sword and eyes shooting fire-sparks of rage, and he stepped forward, grabbed hold of the merchant, and separated him from the rest of the men.

  “Stand up so I can slay you just as you slew my son, the soul of my life,” the jinnee bellowed.

  The merchant wailed and wept, and the three old men began sighing and crying with their companion. Soon the first man, the owner of the gazelle, approached the ifrit and kissed his hand. “Oh jinnee, crown of the kings of the jinn, if I were to tell you a story about me and this gazelle, and if you were to consider it wondrous, would you give me a third of this merchant’s blood?”

  “If you tell me your tale, oh sheikh, and it is indeed marvelous,” the jinnee replied, “I’ll give you a third of his blood.”

  Thereupon the old man began to tell

  The First Sheikh’s Story

  I’ll have you know, oh jinnee, that this gazelle is the daughter of my paternal uncle, my own flesh and blood, and I married her when she was a young maid. I lived with her for close to thirty years, but I was not blessed with any offspring. So I took me a concubine, who gave birth to a boy, fair as the full moon with glistening eyes, straight eyebrows, and perfect limbs. Little by little he grew to be a tall young man, and when he was fifteen, it became necessary for me to journey to certain cities with a large amount of goods. But my wife had learned the art of witchcraft, and she turned my son into a calf and his mother into a cow and placed them under the care of the herdsman. So, after a long time had passed and I returned from my journey, I asked for my son and his mother, and she answered me by saying, “Your slave girl is dead, and your son has fled, and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

  So my heart grieved for an entire year, and my eyes did not stop weeping until the time came for the Great Festival of Allah. Then I sent for my herdsman and asked him to choose a fat cow for me. He brought me the one which had been my handmaid, whom this gazelle had bewitched. I tucked up my sleeves, put on an apron, and taking a knife, I began to cut her throat, but she bellowed so loudly and wept such bitter tears that I was astonished. Out of pity, I dropped the knife and said to the herdsman, “Bring me a different cow.”

  Then my wife cried out, “Slay her! There’s none fatter or fairer.”

  Once more I made a move to sacrifice her, but again the cow bellowed loudly, and I could not bring myself to kill her. Instead, I commanded the herdsman to slay her and flay her. So, he performed the sacrifice and skinned her, but could not find fat or flesh, only hide and bone. I repented when it was much too late, and I gave her to the herdsman and said to him, “Fetch me a fat calf.”

  So he brought me my bewitched son. When the calf saw me,
he broke his tether, ran to me, fawned upon me, and shed tears. Consequently, I took pity on him and said to the herdsman, “Bring me a cow, and let this calf go.”

  But my wife cried out, “You must kill this calf. It is a holy and blessed day, and nothing is to be slain except what is pure and perfect. And there is nothing among our calves that is fatter or fairer than this one!”

  “Look at the cow that I have just had slaughtered at your request and how disappointed we are by the results,” I said. “There was no benefit from her at all, and I’m extremely sorry for having killed her. So this time I’m not going to listen to you, and the calf will not be sacrificed.”

  “By Allah, you have no choice. You must kill him on this holy day, and if you don’t kill him, you’re no man for me, and I shall not be your wife.”

  Now, when I heard those hard words, I went up to the calf with knife in hand, unaware of my wife’s real purpose. However, when I looked at the calf, I commanded the herdsman to take it away, and he did as I ordered him to do. On the next day as I was sitting in my own house, the herdsman came up to me and said, “Master, I want to tell you something that will make your soul rejoice and enable me to be the bearer of good tidings.”

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  “I have a daughter,” he began, “and she learned magic in her childhood from an old woman who lived with us. Yesterday, when you gave me the calf, I went into the house with it, and she looked at it and veiled her face. Then she kept laughing and weeping and at last said to me, ‘Oh father, has my honor become so cheap that you’re now bringing strange men into the house for me?’ I asked her, ‘Where are these strange men and why are you laughing and crying?’ She answered, ‘To tell you the truth, the calf that you have with you is the son of our master, the merchant, but his wife bewitched him and his mother. That’s why I laughed, and I wept because of his mother, whom the merchant slew unaware that it was she.’ Of course, I was most astonished by this revelation, and I could hardly wait until the break of day to come and tell all this to you.”