One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  Again and again I chide thee; but chiding hinders thee ne’er: How many a time with my writing in verse have I bid thee forbear!

  Conceal thy passion, I rede thee, nor ever reveal it to men; For, if thou gainsay me, no mercy I’ll show thee henceforward nor spare;

  Yea, if, in despite of my warning, to this that thou sayst thou return, The herald of death shall go calling for thee and thy death shall declare;

  Ere long, on thy body the breezes shall blow, as the hurricane blows, And eke on thy flesh in the desert shall batten the fowls of the air.

  Return to fair fashion and comely; ‘twill profit thee, trust me; but, if Thou purpose ill-dealing and lewdness, for sure I’ll destroy thee, I swear.

  When she had made an end of writing this, she cast the scroll angrily from her hand, and the old woman picked it up and carried it to Ardeshir. When he read it, he knew that she relented not to him, but only redoubled in anger against him, and that he would never win to her, and bethought himself to write her an answer, invoking [God’s help] against her. So he called for pen and ink and wrote the following verses:

  O Lord, by the Five Elders, deliver me, I pray, From her whose love hath wrought me affliction and dismay.

  Thou knowest what I suffer for passion’s flames and all My sickness for a maiden who saith me ever nay.

  She hath on that no pity wherewith I smitten am: How long o’er this my weakness shall she the tyrant play?

  I am for her distracted with agonies of death And find nor friend nor helper, O Lord, to be my stay.

  How long, when night its pinions o’er all hath spread, shall I On wake, alas! bemoan me with heart and tongue till day?

  Full fain would I forget her, but bow can I forget, When for desire my patience is wasted clean away?

  Tell me, O bird of parting, is she then fenced and free From fortune’s tribulations, that shifts and changes aye?

  Then he folded the letter and gave it, together with a purse of five hundred dinars, to the old woman, and she took it and carried it to the princess, who read it and casting it from her hand, said to her, ‘O wicked old woman, tell me the cause of all that hath befallen me from thee and from thy cunning and thy favouring of him, so that thou hast made me write letter after letter and ceasest not to go and come between him and me and carry messages, till thou hast brought about correspondence and connection between us. Thou sayest still, “I will ensure thee against his mischief and cut off from thee his speech;” but thou speakest thus only to the intent that I may continue to write thee letters and thou to fetch and carry between us, till thou ruin my repute. Out on thee! Ho, eunuchs, seize her!’ So they laid hands on the nurse and Heyat en Nufous commanded them to beat her, and they did so till her whole body streamed with blood and she fainted away, whereupon the princess caused her waiting-women drag her forth by the feet and cast her without the palace and bade one of them stand by her, till she recovered, and say to her, ‘The princess hath taken an oath that thou shalt never re-enter the palace and hath commanded to slay thee without mercy, if thou return hither.’

  So, when she came to herself the damsel told her what the princess said and she answered, saying, ‘I hear and obey.’ Then the slave-girls fetched a basket and a porter and caused carry her to her own house and sent after her a physician, bidding him tend her assiduously till she recovered. He did as he was commanded and as soon as she was whole of her wounds, she mounted and rode to the shop of Ardeshir, who was sore troubled with concern for her absence from him and longing for news of her. As soon as he saw her, he sprang up and coming to meet her, saluted her. Then he noticed that she was weak and ailing; so he asked her how she did and she told him all that had passed. When he heard this, he was sore concerned and smote hand upon hand, saying, ‘By Allah, O my mother, this that hath befallen thee is grievous to me! But what is the reason of the princess’s aversion to men?’ ‘Thou must know, O my son,’ answered the old woman, ‘that she has a beautiful garden, than which there is not a goodlier on the face of the earth and it chanced that she lay there one night. In the delight of sleep, she dreamt that she went down into the garden, where she saw a fowler set up his net and strew corn thereabout, after which he withdrew and sat down afar of to await what game should fall into it. Before long, the birds flocked to pick up the corn and a male pigeon fell into the net and struggled in it, whereat the others took fright and fled from him. His mate flew away with the rest, but presently returned and coming up to the net, sought out the mesh in which his foot was entangled and ceased not to peck at it with her bill, till she severed it and released her mate, with whom she flew away. All this while, the fowler sat dozing, and when he awoke, he looked at the net and found it broken. So he mended it and strewed fresh corn, then withdrew to a distance and sat down again to watch it. The birds soon returned and began to pick up the corny and amongst the rest the pair of pigeons. Presently, the female pigeon fell into the net and struggled to win free; whereupon the other birds all flew away, and her mate fled with the rest and did not return to her. Meantime, slumber had again overcome the fowler and he slept a great while; and when he awoke, he saw the she-pigeon caught in the net; so he went up to her and freeing her feet from the meshes, killed her. The princess awoke, troubled, and said, “Thus do men with women; for women have pity on men and venture their lives for them, when they are in trouble; but if the Lord decree against a woman and she fall into calamity, her mate deserts her and rescues her not, and wasted is that which she did with him of kindness. May God curse her who putteth her trust in men, for they ill requite the kind offices that women do them!” And from that day she conceived an aversion to men.’

  ‘O my mother,’ said the prince, ‘doth she never go out into the street?’ ‘No,’ answered the old woman; ‘but, O my son, I will tell thee somewhat, wherein, God willing, there shall be profit for thee. It is that every year, at the time of the ripening of the fruits, the princess goes forth into her garden, which is of the goodliest of the pleasaunces of the time, and takes her pleasure therein one day, nor lies the night but in her palace. She enters the garden by the private door of the palace which leads thereto, and it wants now but a month to the time of her going forth. So take my advice and go this very day to the keeper of the garden and clap up an acquaintance with him and insinuate thyself into his good graces, for he lets not a soul enter the garden, because of its communication with the princess’s palace. I will let thee know two days beforehand of the day fixed for her coming forth, when do thou repair to the garden, as of thy wont, and make shift to pass the night there. When the princess comes, be thou hidden somewhere and presently show thyself to her. When she sees thee, she will infallibly fall in love with thee; for thou art fair to look upon and love covers all things. So take comfort and be of good cheer, O my son, for needs must I bring about union between her and thee.’

  The prince kissed her hand and thanked her and gave her three pieces of Alexandrian silk and three of satin of various colours, and with each piece, linen for shifts and stuff for trouser and a kerchief for the turban and fine white cotton cloth of Baalbek for the linings, so as to make her six complete suits, each handsomer than its fellow. Moreover, he gave her a purse containing six hundred dinars and said to her, ‘This is for the fashion.’ She took the whole and said to him, ‘O my son, wilt thou not acquaint me with thine abiding-place and I also will show thee the way to my lodging?’ ‘Yes,’ answered he and sent a servant with her to note her lodging and show her his own.

  Then he rose and bidding his slaves shut the shop, went back to the Vizier, to whom he related all that had passed between him and the old woman. ‘O my son,’ said the Vizier, ‘what wilt thou do, should the princess come out and look upon thee and thou find no favour with her?’ Quoth Ardeshir, ‘There will be nothing left but to pass from words to deeds and venture my life with her; for I will snatch her up from amongst her attendants and set her behind me on a swift horse and make for the uttermost of the desert. If I escape, I shall have gai
ned my desire and if I perish, I shall be at rest from this loathed life.’ ‘O my son,’ rejoined the Vizier, ‘dost thou think to do this thing and live? How shall we make our escape, seeing that our country is far distant, and how wilt thou deal thus with a king of the kings of the time, who has under his hand a hundred thousand horse, nor can we be sure but that he will despatch some of his troops to waylay us? Verily, there is no good in this project and no man of sense would attempt it.’ ‘And how then shall we do, O Vizier of good counsel?’ asked Ardeshir. ‘For, [except I get her,] I am a dead man without recourse.’ ‘Wait till to-morrow,’ answered the Vizier, ‘till we behold this garden and note its ordinance and see what betides us with the keeper.’

  So, on the morrow, they took a thousand dinars and repairing to the garden, found it compassed about with high and strong walls, abounding in trees and streams and well furnished with goodly fruits. And indeed its flowers breathed perfume and its birds warbled, as it were a garden of the gardens of Paradise. Within the door sat an old man on a bench of stone, and they saluted him. When he saw them and noted the goodliness of their favour, he rose to his feet and returned their salute, saying, ‘O my lords, peradventure you have a wish, which we may have the honour of satisfying?’ ‘Know, O elder,’ replied the Vizier, ‘that we are strangers and the heat hath overcome us. Now our lodging is afar off at the other end of the town; wherefore we desire of thy courtesy that thou take these two dinars and buy us somewhat of victual and open us meanwhile the door of this garden and seat us in some shaded place, where there is cold water, that we may cool ourselves there, against thou return with the victual, when we will eat, and thou with us, and go our ways, rested and refreshed.’ So saying, he pulled out a couple of dinars and put them into the keeper’s hand.

  Now the keeper was a man of seventy years of age and had never in all his life possessed so much money. So, when he saw the two dinars in his hand, he was transported for joy and forthwith opening the garden gate to the prince and the Vizier, made them enter and sit down under the shade of a wide-spreading tree, laden with fruit, saying, ‘Sit here and go no further into the garden, for it hath a privy door communicating with the palace of the princess Heyat en Nufous.’ ‘We will not budge hence,’ answered they. Then he went out to buy what they had ordered and returned, after awhile, with a porter bearing on his head a roasted lamb and bread. They ate and drank together and talked awhile, till, presently, the Vizier, looking about him right and left, caught sight of a lofty pavilion in the midst of the garden; but it was old and the plaster was peeled from its walls and its coigns were broken down. So he said to the gardener, ‘O elder, is this garden thine own or dost thou hire it?’ ‘O my lord,’ answered the old man, ‘I am neither owner nor tenant of the garden, only its keeper.’ ‘And what is thy wage?’ asked the Vizier. ‘A dinar a month,’ replied the old man, and the Vizier said, ‘Verily, they wrong thee, especially if thou hast a family.’ ‘By Allah, O my lord,’ answered the gardener, ‘I have eight children.’ ‘There is no power and no virtue save in God the Most High, the Supreme!’ exclaimed the Vizier. ‘Thou makest my heart bleed for thee, my poor fellow! What wouldst thou say of him who should do thee a good turn, on account of this family of thine?’ ‘O my lord,’ answered the old man, ‘whatsoever good thou dost shall be treasured up for thee with God the Most High!’

  Then said the Vizier, ‘O old man, this garden of thine is a goodly place; but the pavilion yonder is old and ruinous. Now I mean to repair it and plaster it anew and paint it handsomely, so that it will be the finest thing in the garden; and when the owner of the garden comes and finds the pavilion reinstated, he will not fail to question thee concerning it. Then do thou say, “O my lord, I set it in repair, for that I saw it in ruins and none could make use of it nor sit in it.” If he says, ‘Whence hadst thou the money for this?” say, “I spent of my own money upon it, thinking to whiten my face with thee and hoping for thy bounties.’ And he will assuredly recompense thee handsomely. To-morrow, I will bring builders and painters and plasterers to repair the pavilion and will give thee what I promised thee.’ Then he pulled out a purse of five hundred dinars and gave it to the gardener, saying, ‘Provide thy family with this and let them pray for me and my son here.’ When the gardener saw the money, he was transported and fell down at the Vizier’s feet, kissing them and calling down blessings on him and his son; and when they went away, he said to them, ‘I shall expect you to-morrow: for, by Allah, there must be no parting between us, day or night!’ As they went home, the prince said to the Vizier, ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ and he answered, ‘Thou shalt presently see the issue thereof.’

  Next day, the Vizier sent for the syndic of the builders and carried him and his men to the garden, where the gardener rejoiced in their sight. He gave them the price of victual and what was needful to the workmen for the amendment of the pavilion, and they repaired it and plastered it and decorated it. Then said the Vizier to the painters, ‘Harkye, my masters, give ear unto my words and apprehend my wish and my intent. Know that I have a garden like unto this, where I was sleeping one night and saw in a dream a fowler spread his nets and sprinkle corn thereabout. The birds flocked to pick up the grain, and a he-bird fell into the net, whereupon the others took fright and flew away, and amongst the rest his mate: but, after awhile, she returned alone and pecked at the mesh that held his feet, till she set him free and they flew away together. Now the fowler had fallen asleep and when he awoke and found the net empty, he mended it and strewing fresh corn, sat down at a distance, waiting for game to fall into the snare. Presently the birds assembled again to pick up the corn, and amongst the rest the two pigeons. By and by, the female fell into the net and the other birds took fright at her and flew away, and her mate flew with them and did not return; whereupon the fowler came up and taking the she-bird, killed her. Now, when her mate flew away with the others, a hawk seized him and slew him and ate his flesh and drank his blood, and I would have you pourtray me in lively colours the presentment of this my dream, even as I have related it to you, laying the scene in this garden, with its walls and trees and streams. If ye do this that I have set forth to you and it please me, I will give you what shall gladden your hearts, over and above your wage.’

  So the painters applied themselves with all diligence to do what he required of them and wrought it out in masterly wise. When they had made an end of the work, they showed it to the Vizier, who, seeing his [pretended] dream set forth in lively fashion, was pleased and thanked them and rewarded them munificently. Presently, the prince came in, after his wont, and entered the pavilion, knowing not what the Vizier had done. So, when he saw the portraiture of the fowler and the birds and so forth and saw the male pigeon limned in the clutches of the hawk, which had slain him and was eating his flesh and drinking his blood, his understanding was confounded and he returned to the Vizier and said to him, ‘O Vizier of good counsel, I have seen this day a wonder, which, were it graven with needles on the corners of the eyes, would serve as an admonition to whoso will be admonished?’ ‘And what is that, O my lord?’ asked the Vizier. ‘Did I not tell thee,’ said the prince, ‘of the dream the princess had and how it was the cause of her aversion to men?’ ‘Yes,’ answered the Vizier; and Ardeshir rejoined, saying, ‘O Vizier, by Allah, I have seen the whole dream pourtrayed in painting, as I had beheld it with mine eyes; but with a circumstance that was hidden from the princess, so that she saw it not, and it is upon this that I rely for the attainment of my desire.’ ‘And what is that, O my son?’ said the Vizier. Quoth the prince, ‘I saw that, when the male bird flew away and left his mate entangled in the net, a hawk pounced on him and slaying him, ate his flesh and drank his blood; and this was the cause of his failure to return and liberate her. Would that the princess had seen the whole of the dream and beheld, to the end, the story thereof!’ ‘By Allah, O august King,’ replied the Vizier, ‘this is indeed a rare and wonderful thing!’ And the prince ceased not to marvel at the picture and
lament that the princess had not seen the whole of the dream, saying in himself, ‘Would she had seen it to the end or might see the whole over again, though but in the illusions of sleep!’

  Then said the Vizier to him, ‘Thou saidst to me, “Why wilt thou repair the pavilion?” And I answered, “Thou shalt presently see the issue thereof.” And behold, now thou seest the issue thereof; for it was I did this thing and caused the painters pourtray the princess’s dream thus and paint the male bird in the hawk’s clutches, so that, when she comes to the pavilion, she will behold her dream depicted and see how the male pigeon was slain and excuse him and turn from her aversion to men.’ When the prince heard the Vizier’s words, he kissed his hands and thanked him, saying, ‘Verily, the like of thee is fit to be Vizier to the most mighty king, and by Allah, if I accomplish my desire and return to my father, rejoicing, I will acquaint him with this, that he may redouble in honouring thee and advance thee in dignity and hearken to thy word.’ The Vizier kissed his hand and they both went to the gardener, to whom said the Vizier, ‘Look at yonder pavilion and see how fine it is!’ And he answered, ‘This is all of thy bounty.’ Then said they, ‘O elder, when the owners of the place question thee concerning the reinstatement of the pavilion, say thou, “It was I did it of my own monies,” to the intent that there may betide thee favour and good fortune.’ Quoth he, ‘I hear and obey.’ And the prince continued to pay him frequent visits.