The Thousand and One Days.

by Julia Pardoe.

INTRODUCTION.

The Compiler of the graceful little volume which I have the pleasure of introducing to the public, has conferred an undeniable benefit upon the youth of England by presenting to them a collection of Oriental Tales, which, rich in the elements of interest and entertainment, are nevertheless entirely free from the licentiousness which renders so many of the fictions of the East, beautiful and brilliant as they are, most objectionable for young and ardent minds. There is indeed no lack of the wonderful in the pages before us, any more than in the Arabian and Persian Tales already so well known: but it will be seen that the supernatural agency in the narratives is used as a means to work out totally different results. There is, in truth, scarcely one of these Tales which does not inculcate a valuable moral lesson; as may be seen by reference to "The Powder of Longevity," "The Old Camel," and "The Story of the Dervise Abounadar" among several, others.

The present collection of Eastern Stories has been principally derived from the works of different Oriental Scholars on the Continent, and little doubt can be entertained of the genuineness of their origin; while they have been carefully selected, and do honour to the good taste of their Compiler. An acknowledgment is also due to him for his adherence to the good old orthography to which we have all been accustomed from our childhood, in the case of such titles as "Caliph,"

"Vizier," "Houri," "Genii," &c.; as, however critically correct and learned the spelling of Mr. Lane may be in his magnificent version of the "Thousand and One Nights," and however appropriate to a work of so much research and value to Oriental students, it would have been alike fatiguing and out of character to have embarrassed a volume, simply intended for the amusement of youthful readers, by a number of hard and unfamiliar words, difficult of pronunciation to all save the initiated; and for the pleasure of the young requiring translation fully as much as the narrative itself.

In one of the Tales there will be at once detected a portion of the favourite old story of Aladdin's Lamp, in the subterranean gem-garden discovered by the handsome youth; while in another, mention is made of the already-familiar legend of the hidden city of Ad, so popular among the ancient Arabs[1]; but these repetitions will cease to create any surprise when it is remembered that the professional story-tellers of the East are a wandering race, who travel from city to city, exhibiting their talent during seasons of festivity, in the palaces of the wealthy and the public coffee-houses. Those admitted to the women's apartments are universally aged crones, whose volubility is something marvellous; and they are always welcome guests to the indolent beauties, who listen to them for hours together without a symptom of weariness, as they pour forth their narratives in a monotonous voice strangely displeasing to European ears. The men, while reciting their tales, indulge in violent gesticulations and contortions of the body, which appear to produce great delight in their audience. Since they generally travel two or three in company; and, save in rare cases of improvisation, their stock of narrative is common to all, it is their ambition so individually to embellish, heighten, and amplify their subject-matter, as to outshine their competitors; and it is consequently to this cause that the numerous variations of the same Tale which have reached Europe must be attributed.

Taken altogether, there can be no doubt that the "Thousand and One Days" merit the warm welcome which I trust awaits them.

J. P.

LONDON, FEB. 1857.

I.

THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH; OR, THE ENCHANTED KEYS.

Theilon, caliph of Egypt, died, after having bequeathed his power to his son, Mohammed, who, like a wise and good prince, proceeded to root out abuses, and finally caused peace and justice to flourish throughout his dominions. Instead of oppressing his people by new taxes, he employed the treasures, which his father had amassed by violence, in supporting learned men, rewarding the brave, and assisting the unfortunate. Every thing succeeded under his happy sway; the risings of the Nile were regular and abundant; every year the soil produced rich harvests; and commerce, honoured and protected, caused the gold of foreign nations to flow abundantly into the ports of Egypt.

Mohammed determined, one day, to take the census of the officers of his army, and of all the persons in public situations whose salaries were paid out of the treasury. The vizirs, to the number of forty, first made their appearance and knelt in succession before the sovereign. They were, for the most part, men venerable from their age, and some of them had long beards of snowy whiteness. They all wore on their heads tiaras of gold, enriched with precious stones, and carried in their hands long staves as badges of their power. One enumerated the battles in which he had been engaged, and the honourable wounds he had received; another recounted the long and laborious studies he had pursued, in order to render himself master of the various sciences, and to qualify himself to serve the state by his wisdom and knowledge.

After the vizirs, came the governors of provinces, the generals, and the great officers of the army; and next to them the civil magistrates, and all who were entrusted with the preservation of the peace and the awarding of justice. Behind these walked the public executioner, who, although stout and well-fed, like a man who had nothing to do, went along as if depressed with grief, and instead of carrying his sword naked on his shoulder, he kept it in its scabbard.

When he came into the presence of the prince, he threw himself at his feet, and exclaimed, "O mighty prince, the day of justice and of munificence is at last about to dawn on me! Since the death of the terrible Theilon, under whose reign my life was happy and my condition prosperous, I have seen my occupation and its emoluments diminish daily. If Egypt continue thus to live in peace and plenty, I shall run great danger of perishing with hunger, and my family will be brought to misery and ruin."

Mohammed listened in silence to the complaints of the headsman, and acknowledged that there was some foundation for them, for his salary was small, and the chief part of his profits arose from what he obtained from criminals, either by way of gift, or as a rightful fee.

In times of trouble, quarrelling, and violence, he had lived, in fact, in a state of ease and affluence, while now, under the present prosperous reign, he had nothing better than the prospect of beggary before him.

"Is it then true," exclaimed the caliph, "that the happiness of all is a dream? that what is joy to one, may be the cause of grief to another? O executioner, fear not as to your fate! May it, indeed, please God that, under my reign, your sword,--which is almost as often an instrument of vengeance as of justice,--may remain useless and covered with rust. But, in order to enable you to provide for the wants of yourself and your family, without the unhappy necessity of exercising your fatal office, you shall receive every year the sum of two hundred dinars."

In this way all the officers and servants of the palace passed before the notice of the prince; he interrogated each on the nature of his occupation and his past services, on his means of existence, and on the salary which he received. When he found that any one held a situation of a painful and difficult nature, for which he was inadequately remunerated, the caliph diminished his duties and increased his pay; and, on the other hand, when he found the contrary to be the case, he lessened the salary and increased the duties of the office. After having, in this way, performed many acts of wisdom and justice, the caliph observed, among the officers of the civil service, a sheik, whose wrinkled countenance and stooping figure indicated his great age. The caliph called him up, in order to inquire what was his employment in the palace, and the sum which it yielded him.

"Prince," the old man replied, "my only employment is to take care of a chest that was committed to my charge by your father, the late caliph, and for attending to which he allowed me ten pieces of gold a month."

"It seems to me," replied Mohammed, "that the reward is great for so slight a service. Pray what are the contents of this chest?"

"I received it," replied the sheik, "in charge forty years ago, and I solemnly swear to you that I know not what it contains."

The caliph commanded the chest to be brought to him, which was of pure gold, and most richly adorned. The old man opened it. It contained a manuscript written in brilliant characters on the skin of a gazelle, painted purple and sprinkled with a red dust. Neither the prince, however, nor his ministers, nor the ulemas who were present, could decipher the writing. By the caliph's order, the wise men of Egypt were summoned, as well as others from Syria, Persia, and India, but to no purpose; not one was able to interpret the mysterious characters.

The book remained open for a long time, exposed to the gaze of all, and a great reward was offered to any one who could bring forward a person of sufficient learning to read it.

Some time after this, a savant who had left Egypt in the reign of Theilon, and had now returned after a long absence, chanced to hear of the mysterious book, and said that he knew what it was, and could explain its history. The caliph immediately admitted him to an audience, and the old man addressed him as follows:

"O sovereign ruler, may the Almighty prolong your days! Only one man can read this book, its rightful master, the sheik Hassan Abdallah, son of El-Achaar. This man had travelled through many lands, and penetrated into the mysterious city of Aram, built on columns, from which he brought this book, which no one but himself could read. He made use of it in his experiments in alchemy, and by its aid he could transmute the most worthless metals into gold. The caliph Theilon, your father, having learned this, commanded the sage to be brought before him, with a view of compelling him to reveal the secret of his knowledge. Hassan Abdallah refused to do so, for fear of putting into the hands of the unjust an instrument of such terrible power; and the prince, in a rage, laid hold of the chest, and ordered the sage to be thrown into prison, where he still remains, unless he has died since that time, which is forty years ago."

On hearing this, Mohammed immediately despatched his officers to visit the prisons, and, on their return, learned with pleasure that Hassan was still alive. The caliph ordered him to be brought forth and arrayed in a dress of honour; and, on his appearing in the audience chamber, the prince made him sit down beside him, and begged him to forgive the unjust treatment which his father had caused him to undergo. He then told him how he had accidentally discovered that he was still alive; and at last, placing the mysterious book before him, said,

"Old man, if this book could make me the owner of all the treasures of the world, I would not consent to possess it, since it only belongs to me by injustice and violence."

On hearing these words, Hassan burst into tears.

"O God," he exclaimed, "all wisdom proceeds from Thee! Thou causest to arise from the same soil the poisonous and the wholesome plant. Every where good is placed by the side of evil. This prince, the support of the feeble, the defender of the oppressed, who has conferred on me the happiness of spending my remaining years in the light of day, is the son of the tyrant who plunged Egypt in mourning, and who kept me for forty years in a loathsome dungeon. Prince," added the old man, addressing Mohammed, "what I refused to the wrath of your father, I willingly grant to your virtues: this book contains the precepts of the true science, and I bless Heaven that I have lived long enough to teach it to you. I have often risked my life to become the master of this wonderful book, which was the only article of value that I brought from Aram, that city into which no man can enter who is not assisted by Heaven."

The caliph embraced the old man, and, calling him his father, begged him to relate what he had seen in the city of Aram.

"Prince," replied Hassan, "it is a long story, as long, nearly, as my whole life."

He then proceeded as follows.

[Illustration: Story of the Enchanted Keys, p. 7.]

THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH.

I am the only son of one of the richest inhabitants of Egypt. My father, who was a man of extensive knowledge, employed my youth in the study of science; and at twenty years of age I was already honourably mentioned among the ulemas, when my father bestowed a young maiden on me as my wife, with eyes brilliant as the stars, and with a form elegant and light as that of the gazelle. My nuptials were magnificent, and my days flowed on in peace and happiness. I lived thus for ten years, when at last this beautiful dream vanished. It pleased Heaven to afflict me with every kind of misfortune: the plague deprived me of my father; war destroyed my dear brothers; my house fell a prey to the flames; my richly-laden ships were buried beneath the waves. Reduced to misery and want, my only resource was in the mercy of God and the compassion of the faithful whom I met while I frequented the mosques. My sufferings, from my own wretched state of poverty, and that of my wife and children, were cruel indeed. One day when I had not received any charitable donations, my wife, weeping, took some of my clothes, and gave them to me in order to sell them at the bazaar. On the way thither I met an Arab of the desert, mounted on a red camel. He greeted me, and said,

"Peace be with you, my brother! Can you tell me where the sheik Hassan Abdallah, the son of El-Achaar, resides in the city?"

Being ashamed of my poverty, and thinking I was not known, I replied,

"There is no man at Cairo of that name."

"God is great!" exclaimed the Arab; "are you not Hassan Abdallah, and can you send away your guest by concealing your name?"

Greatly confused, I then begged him to forgive me, and laid hold of his hands to kiss them, which he would not permit me to do, and I then accompanied him to my house. On the way there I was tormented by the reflection that I had nothing to set before him; and when I reached home I informed my wife of the meeting I had just had.

"The stranger is sent by God," said she; "and even the children's bread shall be his. Go, sell the clothes which I gave you; buy some food for our guest with the money, and if any thing should remain over, we will partake of it ourselves."

In going out it was necessary that I should pass through the apartment where the Arab was. As I concealed the clothes, he said to me, "My brother, what have you got there hid under your cloak?"

I replied that it was my wife's dress, which I was carrying to the tailor.

"Show it to me," he said. I showed it to him, blushing.

"O merciful God," he exclaimed, "you are going to sell it in order to get money to enable you to be hospitable towards me! Stop, Hassan!

here are ten pieces of gold; spend them in buying what is needful for our own wants and for those of your family."

I obeyed, and plenty and happiness seemed to revisit my abode. Every day the Arab gave me the same sum, which, according to his orders, I spent in the same way; and this continued for fifteen days. On the sixteenth day my guest, after chatting on indifferent matters, said to me, "Hassan, would you like to sell yourself to me?"