What an imbecile of imbeciles was this same Kalendar when he found himself in the palace with the forty damsels, "All bright as moons to wait upon him!" It is true, he at first appreciated his snug quarters, for he cried, "Hereupon such gladness possessed me that I forgot the sorrows of the world one and all, and said, 'This is indeed life!'" Then the ninny must needs go and open that fatal fortieth door! The story of Nur al-Din Ali and his son Badr al-Din Hasan has the distinction of being the most rollicking and the most humorous in the Nights. What stupendous events result from a tiff! The lines repeated by Nur al-Din Ali when he angrily quitted his brother must have appealed forcibly to Burton:
Travel! and thou shalt find new friends for old ones left behind;
toil! for the sweets of human life by toil and moil are found;
The stay at home no honour wins nor ought attains but want; so
leave thy place of birth and wander all the world around. [441]
As long as time lasts the pretty coquettish bride will keep on changing her charming dresses; and the sultan's groom (poor man! and for nothing at all) will be kept standing on his head. The moribund Nur al-Din turns Polonius and delivers himself of sententious precepts. "Security," he tells his son, "lieth in seclusion of thought and a certain retirement from the society of thy fellows.... In this world there is none thou mayst count upon... so live for thyself, nursing hope of none. Let thine own faults distract thine attention from the faults of other men. [442] Be cautious, kind, charitable, sober, and economical." Then the good old man's life "went forth." This son, when, soon after, confronted with misfortune, gives utterance to one of the finest thoughts in the whole work:
"It is strange men should dwell in the house of abjection, when
the plain of God's earth is so wide and great." [443]
But there is another verse in the same tale that is also well worth remembering—we mean the one uttered by Badr al-Din Hasan (turned tart merchant) when struck by a stone thrown by his son.
Unjust it were to bid the world be just; and blame her not:
She ne'er was made for justice:
Take what she gives thee, leave all griefs aside, for now to fair and
Then to foul her lust is. [444]
We need do no more than mention the world-famous stories of the unfortunate Hunchback and the pragmatical but charitable Barber. Very lovely is the tale of Nur al-Din and the Damsel Anis al Jalis [445] better known as "Noureddin and the Beautiful Persian." How tender is the scene when they enter the Sultan's garden! "Then they fared forth at once from the city, and Allah spread over them His veil of protection, so that they reached the river bank, where they found a vessel ready for sea." Arrived at Baghdad they enter a garden which turns out to be the Sultan's. "By Allah," quoth Nur al-Din to the damsel, "right pleasant is this place." And she replied, "O my lord, sit with me awhile on this bench, and let us take our ease. So they mounted and sat them down... and the breeze blew cool on them, and they fell asleep, and glory be to Him who never sleepeth." Little need to enquire what it is that entwines The Arabian Nights round our hearts.
When calamity over took Nur al-Din he mused on the folly of heaping up riches:
"Kisra and Caesars in a bygone day stored wealth; where is it,
and ah! where are they?" [446]
But all came right in the end, for "Allah's aid is ever near at hand." The tale of Ghanim bin Ayyub also ends happily. Then follows the interminable history of the lecherous and bellicose King Omar. Very striking is its opening episode—the meeting of Prince Sharrkan with the lovely Abrizah. "Though a lady like the moon at fullest, with ringleted hair and forehead sheeny white, and eyes wondrous wide and black and bright, and temple locks like the scorpion's tail," she was a mighty wrestler, and threw her admirer three times. The tender episode of the adventures of the two forlorn royal children in Jerusalem is unforgettable; while the inner story of Aziz and Azizah, with the touching account of Azizah's death, takes perhaps the highest place in the Nights. The tale of King Omar, however, has too much fighting, just as that of Ali bin Bakkar and Shams al Nahar, the amourist martyrs, as Burton calls them, has too much philandering. Then comes the Tale of Kamar al Zaman I—about the Prince and the Princess whose beauty set the fairy and the jinni disputing. How winning were the two wives of Kamar al Zaman in their youth; how revolting after! The interpolated tale of Ni'amah and Naomi is tender and pretty, and as the Arabs say, sweet as bees' honey. [447] All of us as we go through life occasionally blunder like Ni'amah into the wrong room—knowing not what is written for us "in the Secret Purpose." The most interesting feature of the "leprosy tale" of Ala-al-Din is the clairvoyance exhibited by Zubaydah, who perceived that even so large a sum as ten thousand dinars would be forthcoming—a feature which links it with the concluding story of the Nights—that of Ma'aruf the cobbler; while the important part that the disguised Caliph Haroun Al-Rashid, Ja'afar and Masrur play in it reminds us of the story of the Three Ladies of Baghdad. On this occasion, however, there was a fourth masker, that hoary sinner and cynical humorist the poet Abu Nowas.