Supplemental Nights to The Book of the Thousand and One Nights by Sir Richard Francis Burton (suggested reading .TXT) 📖

is at all times necessary that they should communicate to each other any difficulties which they have fallen into, that they may remove them by taking in common those steps which prudence and foresight should recommend.” Zayn el-Arab replied, “Dear friend, I had some gold, and fearing lest it should be stolen, I carried it to such and such a place and buried it under a tree, and when I again visited the place, I perceived the garment of my beloved Joseph to be sprinkled with the blood of the wolf of deception.”

The learned man said, “This is a grave accident, and it will be difficult to get on the track of your gold. Perhaps some one saw you bury it: he who has taken it will have to give an account of it in the next world, for God is omniscient. Give me ten days’

delay, that I may study the book of expedients and stratagems, when mayhap somewhat will occur to me.”

 

That knowing man sat down for ten days in the school of meditation, and how much so ever he turned over the leaves of the volume of his mind from the preface to the epilogue, he could hit upon no plan. On the tenth day they again met in the street, and he said to Zayn el-Arab, “Although the diver of my mind has plunged deeply and searched diligently in this deep sea, he has been unable to seize the precious pearl of a wise plan of operation: may God recompense you from the stores of His hidden treasury!” They were conversing in this way when a lunatic met them and said, “Well, my boys, what secret-mongering have you got between you?” The learned man said to Zayn el-Arab, “Come, let us relate our case to this crazy fellow, to see the flower of the plant that may bloom from his mind.” Zayn el-Arab replied, “Dear friend, you, with all your knowledge, cannot devise anything during ten days: what information are we likely to gain from a poor lunatic who does not know whether it is now day or night?” The learned man said, “There is no telling what he may say to us. But you know that the most foolish as well as the most wise have ideas, and a sentence uttered at random has sometimes furnished a clue by which the desired object may be attained.”

Meanwhile a little boy also came up, and perceiving the lunatic stopped to see his tricks. The two friends explained their case to the lunatic, who then seemed immersed in thought for some time, after which he said, “He who took the root of that tree for a medicine also took the gold,” and having thus spoken, he turned his back upon them and went his way. They consulted with each other what indication this remark might furnish, when the little boy who had overheard the conversation, asked what kind of tree it was. Zayn el-Arab replied that it was a jujube tree. The boy said, “This is an easy matter: you ought to inquire of all the doctors of this town for whom a medicine has been prescribed of the roots of this tree.” They greatly admired the boy’s acuteness and also of the lunatic’s lucky thought.[FN#511] The learned man was well acquainted with all the physicians of the city and made his enquiries, till he met with one who informed him that about twenty days ago he had prescribed for a merchant of the name of Khoja Semender, who suffered from asthma, and that one of the remedies was the root of that jujube tree. The learned man soon discovered the merchant’s house, found him enjoying excellent health, and said to him, “Ah Khoja, all the goods of this world ought to be surrendered to procure health.

By the blessing of God, you have recovered your health, and you ought to give up what you found at the root of that tree, because the owner of it is a worthy man and possesses nothing else.” The honest merchant answered, “It is true, I have found it, and it is with me. If you will describe it I will deliver it into your hands.” The exact sum being stated, the merchant at once delivered up the gold.

 

In the “Kath� Sarit S�gara,” Book vi. ch. 33, we have probably the original of this last story: A wealthy merchant provided a Br�hman with a lodging near his own house, and every day gave him a large quantity of unhusked rice and other presents and in course of time he received like gifts from other great merchants.

In this way the miserly fellow gradually accumulated a thousand d�n�rs, and going into the forest he dug a hole and buried it in the ground, and he went daily to carefully examine the spot. One day, however, he discovered that his hoard had been stolen, and he went to his friend the merchant near whose house he lived, and, weeping bitterly, told him of his loss, and that he had resolved to go to a holy bathing-place and there starve himself to death. The merchant tried to console him and dissuade him from his resolution, saying, “Br�hman, why do you long to die for the loss of your wealth? Wealth, like an unseasonable cloud, suddenly comes and goes.” But the Br�hman would not abandon his fixed determination to commit suicide, for wealth is dearer to the miser than life itself. When he was about to depart for the holy place, the king, having heard of it, came and asked him, “Br�hman, do you know of any mark by which you can distinguish the place where you buried your d�n�rs?” He replied, “There is a small tree in the wood, at the foot of which I buried that money.” Then said the king, “I will find the money and give it back to you, or I will give it you from my own treasury;—do not commit suicide, Br�hman.”

 

When the king returned to his palace, he pretended to have a headache, and summoned all the physicians in the city by proclamation with beat of drum. And he took aside every one of them singly and questioned them privately, saying, “What patients have you, and what medicines have you prescribed for each?” And they thereupon, one by one, answered the king’s questions. At length a physician said, “The merchant M�tridatta has been out of sorts, O king, and this is the second day I have prescribed for him n�gabal� (the plant Uraria Lagopodioides).” Then the king sent for the merchant, and said to him, “Tell me, who fetched you the n�gabal�?” The merchant replied, “My servant, your highness.”

On hearing this, the king at once summoned the servant and said to him, “Give up that treasure belonging to a Br�hman, consisting of a store of d�n�rs, which you found when you were digging at the foot of the tree for n�gabal�.” When the king said this to him the servant was frightened, and confessed immediately, and bringing the money left it there. Then the king summoned the Br�hman and gave him, who had been fasting meanwhile, the d�n�rs, lost and found again, like a second soul external to his body.

Thus did the king by his wisdom recover to the Br�hman his wealth which had been taken away from the root of the tree, knowing that that simple grew in such spots.

 

TALE OF THE DEVOUT WOMAN ACCUSED OF LEWDNESS.—Vol. XI. p. 184.

 

This is one of three Arabian variants of Chaucer’s Man of Law’s Tale (the Story of Constance), of which there are numerous versions—see my paper entitled “The Innocent Persecuted Wife,”

pp. 365-414 of “Originals and Analogues of some of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.”

 

THE WEAVER WHO BECAME A LEACH BY ORDER OF HIS WIFE.—Vol. XI. p.

194

 

Somewhat resembling his, but much more elaborate, is the amusing story of Ahmed the Cobbler, in Sir John Malcolm’s “Sketches of Persia,” ch. xx., the original of which is probably found in the tale of Harisarman, book vi. ch. 30, of the “Kath� Sarit S�gara,”

and it has many European variants, such as the German story of Doctor Allwissend, in Grimm’s collection, and that of the Charcoal Burner in Sir George Dasent’s “Tales from the Fjeld.—

According to the Persian story, Ahmed the Cobbler had a young and pretty wife, of whom he was very fond. She was ever forming grand schemes of riches and splendour, and was firmly persuaded that she was destined to great fortune. It happened one evening, while in this frame of mind, that she went to the public baths, where she saw a lady retiring dressed in a magnificent robe, covered with jewels, and surrounded by slaves. This was the very condition she had always longed for, and she eagerly inquired the name of the happy person who had so many attendants and such fine jewels. She learned it was the wife of the chief astrologer to the king. With this information she returned home. Ahmed met her at the door, but was received with a frown, nor could all his caresses obtain a smile or a word; for several hours she continued silent, and in apparent misery, at length she said, “Cease your caresses, unless you are ready to give me a proof that you do really and sincerely love me.” “What proof of love,”

exclaimed poor Ahmed, “can you desire that I will not give?”

“Give over cobbling, it is a vile, low trade, and never yields more than ten or twelve d�n�rs a day. Turn astrologer; your fortune will be made, and I shall have all I wish and be happy.”

“Astrologer!” cried Ahmed—“astrologer! Have you forgotten who I am—a cobbler, without any learning—that you want me to engage in a profession which requires so much skill and knowledge?” “I neither think nor care about your qualifications,” said the enraged wife; “all I know is that if you do not turn astrologer immediately, I will be divorced from you tomorrow.” The cobbler remonstrated, but in vain. The figure of the astrologer’s wife, with her jewels and her slaves, took complete possession of her imagination. All night it haunted her: she dreamt of nothing else, and on awakening declared that she would leave the house if her husband did not comply with her wishes. What could poor Ahmed do? He was no astrologer, but he was dotingly fond of his wife, and he could not bear the idea of losing her. He promised to obey, and having sold his little stock, bought an astrolabe, an astronomical almanac, and a table of the twelve signs of the zodiac. Furnished with these, he went to the marketplace, crying, “I am an astrologer! I know the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the twelve signs of the zodiac; I can calculate nativities; I can foretell everything that is to happen.” No man was better known than Ahmed the Cobbler. A crowd soon gathered round him.

“What, friend Ahmed,” said one, “have you worked till your head is turned?” “Are you tired of looking down at your last,” cried another, “that you are now looking up at the stars?” These and a thousand other jokes assailed the ears of the poor cobbler, who notwithstanding continued to exclaim that he was an astrologer, having resolved on doing what he could to please his beautiful wife.

 

It so happened that the king’s jeweller was passing by. He was in great distress, having lost the richest ruby belonging to the king. Every search had been made to recover this inestimable jewel, but to no purpose; and as the jeweller knew he could no longer conceal its loss from the king, he looked forward to death as inevitable. In this hopeless state, while wandering about the town, he reached the crowd around Ahmed, and