One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  The caliph, who wished to renew the diversion he had received, had taken care to inform himself of all that had happened to Abou Hassan, and enjoyed much pleasure at the relation given him, especially at his being sent to a mad-house. But as this monarch was both just and generous, and had taken a great liking to Abou Hassan, as capable of contributing further to his amusement, and had doubted whether, after renouncing his frenzied character of a caliph, he would return to his usual manner of living; with a view therefore to bring him to his palace, he disguised himself again like a merchant of Moussul, the better to execute his plan. He perceived Abou Hassan at the same time that he saw him, and presently guessed by his action that he was angry, and wished to shun him. This made him walk close to the side railing; and when he came nigh him, he put his head over to look him in the face. “Ho, brother Abou Hassan,” said he, “is it you? I greet you! Give me leave to embrace you?”

  “Not I,” replied Abou Hassan, pettishly, without looking at the pretended Moussul merchant; “I do not greet you; I will have neither your greeting nor your embraces. Go along!”

  “What!” answered the caliph, “do you not know me? Do you not remember the evening we spent together at your house this day month, where you did me the honour to treat me very generously?” “No,” replied Abou Hassan in the same tone, “I do not know you, nor what you talk about; go, I say again, about your business.”

  The caliph was not to be diverted from his purpose by this rude behaviour. He well knew the law Abou Hassan had imposed on himself, never to have commerce again with a stranger he had once entertained; but pretended to be ignorant of it. “I cannot believe,” said he, “but you must know me again; it is not possible that you should have forgotten me in so short a time. Certainly some misfortune has befallen you, which inspires you with this aversion for me. However, you ought to remember, that I shewed my gratitude by my good wishes, and that I offered you my interest, which is not to be slighted, in an affair which you had much at heart.”

  “I do not know,” replied Abou Hassan, “what your interest may be, and I have no desire to make use of it: but I am sensible the utmost of your good wishes ended in making me mad. In God’s name, I say once more, go your way, and trouble me no more.”

  “Ah! brother Abou Hassan,” replied the caliph, embracing him, “I do not intend to part with you thus, since I have had the good fortune to meet with you a second time; you must exercise the same hospitality towards me again that you shewed me a month ago, when I had the honour to drink with you.”

  “I have protested against this,” said Abou Hassan, “and have so much power over myself, as to decline receiving a second time as my guest, a man like you who carries misfortunes with him. You know the proverb, ‘Take up your drum and begone.’ Make the application to yourself. How often must I repeat my refusal. God be with you! You have been the cause of my sufferings, and I will not trust myself with you again.” “My good friend Abou Hassan,” said the caliph, embracing him, “you treat me in a way I little expected. I beg of you not to speak to me thus harshly, but be persuaded of my friendship. Do me the favour to tell me what has happened to you; for I assure you I wished you well, and still do so; and would be glad of an opportunity to make you any amends for the trouble I have caused you, if it has been really my fault.” Abou Hassan yielded to the solicitations of the caliph. “Your incredulity and importunity,” said he, “have tired my patience; and what I am going to relate will shew you that I do not accuse you wrongfully.”

  The caliph seated himself by Abou Hassan, while he told him all that had happened to him, from his waking in the palace to his waking again in his own house, all which he described as a mere dream, and recounted all the circumstances, which the caliph knew as well as himself, and which renewed his pleasure. He enlarged afterwards on the impression which the dream of being caliph and commander of the faithful had made upon him, which, he said, threw him into such extravagancies, that his neighbours were obliged to carry him to a mad-house, where he was treated in a manner which he deemed most barbarous and inhuman. “But,” said he, “what will surprise you, and what you little think of, is, that it was altogether your fault that these things happened to me; for, if you remember, I desired you to shut the door after you, which you neglected, and the devil, finding it open, entered and put this dream into my head, which, though it was very agreeable, was the cause of the misfortune I complain of: you therefore, for your negligence, are answerable for the horrid and detestable crime I have committed in lifting my hand against my mother, whom I might have killed (I blush for shame when I think of it), because she said I was her son, and would not acknowledge me for commander of the faithful, as I thought and positively insisted on to her that I was. You are the cause of the offence I have given my neighbours, when, running in at the cries of my poor mother, they surprised me in the horrid act of felling her at my feet; which would never have happened, if you had taken care to shut my door when you went away, as I desired you. They would not have come into my house without my leave; and, what troubles me most of all, they would not have been witnesses of my folly. I should not have been obliged to strike them in my own defence, and they would not have bound and fettered me, to carry and shut me up in the hospital for madmen, where I assure you every day that I remained confined in that hell, I received a score of strokes with a bastinado.” Abou Hassan recounted his complaints with great warmth and vehemence to the caliph, who knew as well as himself what had passed, and was delighted to find that he had succeeded so well in his plan to throw him into the vagaries from which he still was not entirely free. He could not help laughing at the simplicity wherewith he related them.

  Abou Hassan, who thought that his story should rather have moved compassion, and that every one ought to be as much concerned at it as himself, warmly resented the pretended Moussul merchant’s laughter. “What!” said he, “do you make a jest of me and laugh in my face, or do you believe I laugh at you when I speak seriously? If you want proof of what I advance, look yourself and see whether or no I tell you the truth;” with that, stooping down and baring his shoulders, he shewed the caliph the scars and weals which the bastinado had left.

  The caliph could not behold these marks of cruelty without horror. He pitied Abou Hassan, and felt sorry he had carried the jest so far. “Come, rise, dear brother,” said he to him eagerly, and embracing Abou Hassan heartily in his arms; “let me go to your house, and enjoy the happiness of being merry with you to-night; and to-morrow, if it please God, all things will go well.”

  Abou Hassan, notwithstanding his resolution never to admit the same stranger a second time, could not resist the caresses of the caliph, whom he still took for a merchant of Moussul. “I will consent,” said he, “if you will swear to shut my door after you, that the devil may not come in to distract my brain again.” The caliph promised that he would; upon which they both arose, walked towards the city, and, followed by the caliph’s slave, reached Abou Hassan’s house by the time it was dark.

  The caliph, the more to blind Abou Hassan, said to him, “Place confidence in me; I promise you on my honour I will not break my word. You need not hesitate to trust a person who wishes you all happiness and prosperity, of which confidence you will see the effects.” “I desire not that,” said Abou Hassan, stopping him short. “I yield to your importunity; but I dispense with your good wishes, and beg you in God’s name to form none for me. All the mischief that has hitherto befallen me arose from those you expressed for me, and from your leaving the door open.” “Well,” replied the caliph, still laughing at the misguided imagination of Abou Hassan, “since you will have it so, I promise you I will form none.” “You give me pleasure by speaking so,” said Abou Hassan; “I desire no more; I shall be more than satisfied provided you keep your word, and I shall forgive you all the rest.”

  As soon as Abou Hassan entered his house, he called for his mother and for candles, desired his guest to sit down upon a sofa, and then placed himself by him. A l
ittle time after, supper was brought up, and they both began to eat without ceremony. When they had done, Abou Hassan’s mother cleared the table, set on a small dessert of fruit, wine, and glasses by her son, then withdrew, and appeared no more. Abou Hassan first filled out his own glass, and then the caliph’s: and after they had drunk some time, and talked of indifferent matters, the caliph, perceiving that his host grew warm with liquor, began to talk of love, and asked him if he had ever felt that passion.

  “Brother,” replied Abou Hassan, familiarly thinking his guest was his equal, “I never looked upon love or marriage but as a slavery, to which I was always unwilling to submit; and must own to you, that I never loved any thing but good cheer and good wine; in short, to divert and entertain myself agreeably with my friends. Yet I do not tell you that I am indifferent to marriage, or incapable of attachment, if I could meet with a woman of such beauty and sweetness of temper as her I saw in my dream that fatal night in which I first received you into my house, and you, to my misfortune, left my door open, who would pass the whole night with me drinking, singing, and playing on some instrument, and in agreeable conversation, and who would study to please and divert me: I believe, on the contrary, I should change all my indifference into a perfect attachment to such a person, and, I think, should live very happily with her. But where is such a woman to be found except in the caliph’s palace, or in those of the grand vizier or some great lords of the court, who want not money to provide them? I choose therefore to stick to my bottle, which is a much cheaper pleasure, and which I can enjoy as well as the greatest.” Saying these words, he filled out his own and the caliph’s glass, and said, “Come, take your glass, and let us pursue this charming pleasure.”

  When they had drunk off their wine, “It is great pity,” said the caliph, “that so gallant a man as you, who owns himself not insensible of love, should lead so solitary a life.” “I prefer the easy quiet life I live,” replied Abou Hassan, “before the company of a wife, whose beauty might not please me, and who, besides, might create me a great deal of trouble by her imperfections and ill-humour.” The conversation lasted a long time, and the caliph seeing Abou Hassan had drunk to the pitch he desired, said, “Let me alone, since you have the same good taste as every other honest man, I warrant you I will find you a wife that shall please you.” Then taking Abou Hassan’s glass, and putting a pinch of the same powder into it, filled him up a bumper, and presenting it to him, said, “Come, let us drink beforehand the fair lady’s health, who is to make you happy. I am sure you will like her.”

  Abou Hassan took the glass laughing, and shaking his head, said, “Be it so; since you desire it, I cannot be guilty of so great a piece of incivility, nor disoblige a guest of so much merit in such a trifling matter. I will drink the health of the lady you promise me, though I am very well contented as I am, and do not rely on your keeping your word.” No sooner had Abou Hassan drank off his bumper, than he was seized with as deep a sleep as before; and the caliph ordered the same slave to take him and carry him to the palace. The slave obeyed, and the caliph, who did not intend to send back Abou Hassan as before, shut the door after him, as he had promised, and followed.

  When they arrived at the palace, the caliph ordered Abou Hassan to be laid on a sofa, in the fourth hall, from whence he had been carried home fast asleep a month before; but first he bade the attendants to put him on the same habit in which he had acted the caliph, which was done. He then charged all the eunuchs, officers, ladies, and musicians who were in the hall, when he drank the last glass of wine which had put him to sleep, to be there by daybreak, and to take care to act their parts well when he should awake. He then retired to rest, charging Mesrour to awake him before they went into the hall, that he might conceal himself in the closet as before.

  Mesrour, at the hour appointed, awakened the caliph, who immediately rose, and went to the hall where Abou Hassan lay still asleep, and when he had placed himself in his closet, Mesrour and the other officers, ladies, and musicians, who waited for him, went in, and placed themselves about the sofa, so as not to hinder the caliph from seeing what passed, and noticing all his actions.

  Things being thus disposed, and the caliph’s powder having had its effect, Abou Hassan began to awake without opening his eyes, and threw off the phlegm, which was received in a gold basin as before. At that instant, the seven bands of singers joined their voices to the sound of hautboys, fifes, flutes, and other instruments, forming a very agreeable concert. Abou Hassan was in great surprise to hear the delightful harmony; but when he opened his eyes, and saw the ladies and officers about him, whom he thought he recognized, his amazement increased. The hall that he was in seemed to be the same he had seen in his first dream, and he observed the same lustres, and the same furniture and ornaments.

  The concert ceased, to give the caliph an opportunity of attending to the countenance of his guest, and all that he might say in his surprise. The ladies, Mesrour, and all the officers of the chamber, waited in profound and respectful silence. Abou Hassan bit his finger, and cried loud enough for the caliph to hear him, “Alas! I am fallen again into the same dream and illusion that happened to me a month ago, and must expect again the bastinado and grated cell at the mad-house. Almighty God,” added he, “I commit myself into the hands of thy divine providence. He was a wicked man that I entertained at my house last night, who has been the cause of this illusion, and the hardships I must again undergo. The base wretch swore to shut the door after him, but did not, and the devil came in and has turned my brain with this wicked dream of being commander of the faithful, and other phantoms which bewitch my eyes. God confound thee, Satan? and crush thee under some mountain of stones.”

  After these words, Abou Hassan closed his eyes, and remained some time thoughtful and much perplexed; then opening them again, and looking about him, cried out a second time with less surprise, and smiling at the various objects before him, “Great God! I commit myself into the hands of thy providence, preserve me from the temptation of Satan.” Then shutting them again, he said, “I will go to sleep until Satan leaves me, and returns as he came, were I to wait till noon.” They did not give him time to go to sleep again as he promised himself; for Strength of Hearts, one of the ladies whom he had seen before, approached, and sitting down on the sofa by him, said to him respectfully, “Commander of the faithful, I entreat your majesty to forgive me for taking the liberty to tell you not to go to sleep; day appears, and it is time to rise.” “Begone, Satan!” answered Abou Hassan, raising his voice; but looking at the lady, he said, “Is it me you call the commander of the faithful? Certainly you take me for somebody else.” “It is to your majesty I give that title,” replied the lady, “to whom it belongs, as you are sovereign of the world, and I am your most humble slave. Undoubtedly,” added she, “your majesty means to divert yourself by pretending to have forgotten yourself, or this is the effect of some troublesome dream; but if you would but open your eyes, the mists which disturb your imagination would soon be dispelled, and you would find yourself in your own palace, surrounded by your officers and slaves, who all wait your commands: and that your majesty may not be surprised to find yourself in this hall, and not in bed, I beg leave to inform you, that you fell so suddenly asleep last night, that we were unwilling to awake you, to conduit you to your chamber, but laid you carefully upon this sofa.” In short, she said to him so many things which appeared probable, that at last he sat up, opened his eyes, and recollected her and all the ladies again. They all approached him, and she who spoke first, resuming the discourse, said, “Commander of the faithful, and vicar of the prophet on earth, be not displeased if I acquaint your majesty once more that it is time to rise, for day appears.”

  “You are very troublesome and importunate,” replied Abou Hassan, rubbing his eyes; “I am not the commander of the faithful, but Abou Hassan; I know it well, and you shall not persuade me otherwise.” “We do not know that Abou Hassan you majesty speaks of, nor desire to know him,” answer
ed the lady; “but we know you to be the commander of the believers, and you cannot persuade us to the contrary.”

  Abou Hassan looking about, and finding himself in the same hall, attributed all he saw and heard to such a dream as he had had before, and greatly feared the dreadful consequences. “Allah have mercy on me!” said he, lifting up his hands and eyes, like a man who knew not where he was; “I commit myself into his hands. I cannot doubt, after what I have seen, but that the devil, who came into my chamber, possesses me, and fills my imagination full of all these visions.”

  The caliph, who saw him all the time, and heard these exclamations, began to shake so heartily, that he had much difficulty to forbear bursting into loud laughter.

  Abou Hassan laying himself down again, and shutting his eyes, the same lady said, “Commander of the faithful, since your majesty does not rise, after we have, according to our duty, informed you it is day, and the dispatch of business requires your presence, we shall use the liberty you give us in such cases.” Then taking him by one arm, and calling to one of the other ladies to do the same by the other, they lifted him up, and carried him into the middle of the hall, where they seated him, and all taking hands, danced and skipped round him while the music played and sounded loudly in his ears.