Things are a-sizzle in Ja’far the Vizier’s tale of the fateful working out of a family quarrel among viziers.
A jinniya and an ‘ifrit have become involved in the affairs of the humans, as they do, and, distance being no barrier to a winged spirit, now bring Nur al-Din’s handsome son Hasan face to face at last with his destined bride, the fabulously fair Sitt al-Husn, daughter of Shams al-Din.
But it was never going to be straightforward.
For a start, she’s about to wed someone else. Her bridegroom-to-be is no true rival to the handsome Hasan, but has the advantage of the Sultan’s edict behind him. By this edict, the lowliest and ugliest man in Egypt will wed the most beautiful girl.
Sultans do tend to have a rather overblown sense of entitlement, and this edict is no act of generosity to an unfortunate servant, but an act of revenge against Sitt al-Husn’s father, who has had the temerity to turn down the Sultan himself as her suitor, his heart still being set, in spite of the disappearance of his brother, on his dream of a union between his daughter and his nephew.
Why the Sultan didn’t just have the father killed and marry the girl anyway, Allah only knows, and isn’t telling.
Aleksandra Ekster - Design for 'Dance of the Seven Veils' *
A dramatic wedding ceremony unfolds, with gorgeous singing girls (all lusting after the handsome stranger) and an assemblage of matrons (just as lustful as the girls) to cheer on the bride. Sitt al-Husn’s seven bridal robes are removed one by one, each more alluring than the last. I was especially taken with the one described as ‘the bitter cut’, because it ‘cuts men’s hearts’. Sitt al-Husn’s long black curls creep like scorpions when they’re not wriggling like snakes. She and Hasan have eyes only for each other and the ’ifrit’s really quite astounding explanation of what is going on is swallowed as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
You’ve got to feel sorry for the original bridegroom, who is only a tool and didn’t ask for any of this, and ends up with his head down a toilet as part of the ’ifrit’s machinations. This farcical situation offers the narrator a great opportunity to do their best rib-tickling animal impersonations, always a winner with a live audience. It’s not clear whether Shahrazad has a good donkey bray or not…
But the ’ifrit’s explanation does not explain everything, as he does not actually know the full story behind this wedding couple. And so it is that Hasan and Sitt al-Husn meet, and wed, and strip, and
Sitt al-Husn went up to him and drew him to her as he drew her to him. He embraced her and placed her legs around his waist. He then set the charge, fired the cannon and demolished the fortress … and after a restorative pause, he returned fifteen times, as a result of which she conceived.
A touch militaristic perhaps. But fifteen times is certainly impressive.
All without an inkling of who the other is.
Such, of course, is the natural state of brides and grooms. Among the fabled powers of Cupid’s dart is its ability to convince you that you have known your beloved forever, but in truth we always marry strangers, and marriage may justly be described as a long journey towards acquaintance, which never quite reaches its destination.
Hasan and Sitt al-Husn hardly get a chance to start on their particular journey, however, for Hasan is whisked away asleep by the interfering jinniya and ‘ifrit, who must return whence they came before daybreak.
The denizens of Damascus, where Hasan is unceremoniously dumped en route, clothed only in his nightshirt, are suitably impressed with the glory of his unclothed nethers, but rather inclined to dismiss his account of his provenance as the ravings of a drunkard.
And as for the pregnant bride, he has left behind… but soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
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* Intrigued by the description of Sitt al-Husn’s seven amazing wedding dresses, I went on a picture search to accompany this post, and came across Aleksandra Ekster’s design for ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’, featured at Tate Modern as part of an exhibition of Soviet art entitled ‘The Short Life of the Equal Woman’. Somehow, it seems apposite, and I recommend the associated article in ‘Tate Etc’ – it’s fascinating!
O Gentle-Eye, O my sister, thou hast persuaded me to copy the 1001 Tales from the land of Gutenberg, translated by that staunch Explorer and Arabist Richard Francis Burton, to the Kind companion of my Idle hours, that I call my Kind’dle, the better to go with thee on this magical carpet to Faerie. I shall send postcards to you at this address when there is matter to report of my journeyings.
Noble Vincent, I am convinced that thou hast made a good decision, tho’ others may mock this serious study of such fanciful matters. I anticipate your post cards with enthusiasm, and shall gladly compare notes on the ways of the jinni and the mysterious dispositions of Allah. At this present time the gates of Faerie are often barred to me by pressure of circumstance, but I do still make entry when I may, and always find much to delight and much to ponder.
Brides and grooms – and how we always stay strangers to each other…at some point(s)…
A good read, gentle eye, thanks.