It has come to my attention that not enough of you are familiar with the original story of “The City of Brass” from the 1001 Nights. This is awful. There are death-dealing statues and screaming jinn. Gather, dear ones, it’s story time.
(You may want to mute me if you’re not interested. This is going to be long.)
A little background. “The City of Brass” is one of the many tales in the 1001 Nights. You know, the stories Shahrazad tells to try and convince her horrible royal husband not to execute her the following morning.
*Don’t get me started on the frame story of the Nights. Honestly, the only proper ending is Shahrazad and her sister shoving the king off a balcony and taking the throne for themselves.
But “The City of Brass is very cool because it’s essentially science-fiction; the pulpy adventure of a band of explorers who bite off WAY more than they can chew when they go searching for a lost city.
It’s also the most violently elaborated version of the mantra “you can’t take it with you” I’ve ever come across, but we’ll get to that.
So, the story starts in ancient Damascus (not quite ancient, but if you try to understand time in the Nights, your brain implodes). The King, a man named Abd al-Malik has a problem. He is bored.
Now, bored monarchs are nothing new in medieval Arabic folklore. Heck, they’re basically a societal ill up there with plague, the Byzantines, and when Eid starts (you know they bickered about moon sightings. You KNOW it.)
But his companions are trying to cheer him up and so one of them, a guy named Talib abu Sahl, is like “I have a great story for you!”
Abd al-Malik:
(Also, remember Talib. Primarily, remember all this happened because he decided to open his big mouth.)
Anyway, Talib starts talking about how he knew a captain who on his last trip to Sicily got blown REALLY off course and ended up in a land of mysterious caves and people who spoke no Arabic and who claimed to be the children of Ham, having lived here alone since the Flood.
And if the “children of Ham” line didn’t clue you in, welcome to one of the many instances of racism in the 1001 Nights!
So, the captain and his crew are chilling and feasting with this new king and his people when one of their fishermen pulls a brass bottle from his net. It’s sealed with lead and marked by a seal: the mark of the Prophet Suleiman.
The fisherman breaks it. Smoke starts gushing out, growing taller and wider until it forms a monstrous creature large as a mountain who’s wailing in an awful voice “Repentence! Repentence, oh Prophet of God!” And then vanishes.
Now the captain and his people are losing their minds with fear, meanwhile the locals, are kind of just like “oh, does this not happen where you’re from?”
Turns out there’s a LOT of these bottles, and in them is trapped the souls of the evil jinn and ifrit who once warred against Suleiman.
King Abd al-Malik is INTRIGUED. He wants to see these bottle and so Talib in a moment of brilliance is all, “Yes, my king, let us go hunt for ancient screaming jinn!” So the king writes his people and off Talib goes to Egypt to meet up with Emir Musa, the governor of the Maghreb
Slight problem, neither Talib nor Musa know what they’re doing. Or where they’re going. So, they enlist the help of the elderly Sheikh abd es-Samad who enthusiastically tells them that the journey through the desert will take years and be filled with horror. For some bottles.
Our main characters:
So off they go and the story skips ahead to where they’re wandering lost in the desert (surprise!) with their group presumably after much hardship. They come across an abandoned castle and the story goes on a length about how beautiful and fine its construction and its tombs.
The castle is LITTERED with warnings.
Inscriptions from the ancient kings who died there bemoaning how they were awesome and had stables of beautiful women and thousands of dashing heirs and boatloads of gold and incense and all their enemies were basically like “Yeah, Sheddad is way cooler and stronger!”
And that in the end, such success meant nothing. Because death came for them all, the destroyer of delights, and now they’re bones and dust. BONES AND DUST.
Musa cannot handle this. He breaks down weeping as he tries to copy each inscription. And I mean, he BREAKS DOWN. He sobs “until he becomes insensible.” He must walk with the aide of his men. He straight up passes out.
There are… a lot of inscriptions. Eventually they come to a hill upon which a brass statue of a horseman stands with a literal sign that says to rub its hand if you’d like to know where the City of Brass is.
There’s a lot of instructions. Admittedly, mystery is one element missing from this story. Or maybe Shahrazad was just trying to make things simple while her awful husband was caressing strangling rope. Give her a break.
They rub the statue’s hand and it spins around like lightning and points in a different direction. And off they go, because honestly, why wouldn’t you take directions from an animated brass statue in the middle of the desert?
Well, you wouldn’t because those instructions would lead you straight into a screaming demon trapped in black stone pillar.
His name is Dahish, and he freaks out our travelers who have a little game of “No, you touch it! I said not-it!” He’s got wings, eyes of coal, and lion arms. Dahish is being tormented because he warred against Suleiman way back, and the description he gives of the war is EPIC.
Jinn fighting jinn, birds plucking out eyes, WAR SNAKES, trembling mountains. Dahish’s actual purpose in the narrative is to literally just tell them the City of Brass is nearby, as is the sea where they can find more jinn-containing bottles (y’know, the original goal).
Honestly I love this. There’s an aspect to these stories (and a lot of popular Arabic folklore of the era) that just goes all in, heart and soul. I’m pretty sure “Tales of the Marvelous and News of the Strange” has a centaur fighting an armed statue, and it’s barely a subplot.
So why not have a random demon with a spectacular war story? You read the inscription: life is short! Get in before the Destroyer of Delights arrives!
So, they keep going when suddenly in the distance, they see an expanse of black with two fires lighting the sky. It’s the outer walls and towers of the City of Brass and this thing is MASSIVE.
It takes two days for one of their scouts to circle the city looking for a gate, but he comes up empty.
Sheikh es-Samad says this is impossible. His guidebook insists there are a number of gates. (Did I not mention he’s got a near-magical book with directions to all sorts of wondrous places? Of course, he does. This is the 1001 Nights, people! Everything is documented!)
They go up on a mountain to gaze over the city walls. And its gorgeous. Flowing rivers and stunning gardens. Lofty pavilions, shining domes and mansions out a dream. And not a single person. There is so sound save a hooting owl, and no movement save vultures spiraling in the sky.
Also, there are more poetic inscriptions warning of death and the uselessness and false seduction of mortal life so Musa is very shortly out cold with tears upon his cheeks.
Our travelers: LET’S GO INSIDE!
It takes them a month to build a ladder (a month?!) One of their men climbs up (for the purpose of this story, he’s wearing a red shirt). Gets on top of the wall, his eyes go wide and he cries “by God, you are beautiful!” reaches out to embrace the air and plunges over the wall.
THEY DO THIS TWELVE MORE TIMES.
Finally, after they’ve lost a dozen starry-eyed men, they stop and think. Musa and Sheikh es-Samad argue over which of them is going to go up next, and indeed, some of the versions differ.
More go with Musa, so I will as well, but honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent the only man with local knowledge up on the death wall.
Emir Musa climbs the ladder. Once upon the wall, he see ten ladies and they are HOT. Black eyes like houris, faces like the moon, the whole package.
They’re beckoning for him to come join him and he’s tempted, but then he sees the broken bodies of his men, he says some verses of protection and the ladies vanish.
Now, some versions of this story say the women are a conjured enchantment, others say automated statues. I kind of like the statues version because it lends a whole steampunk vibe, but you do you.
There’s also another statue of a brass horseman with instructions (of course) to turn a pin in his belly a dozen times. So Musa does this and it opens a gate filled with the desiccated bodies of its former guardsmen.
I believe there are also more written lamentations about life and death so presumably after some sob-fainting, Musa picks through the bodies to find their keys and opens the gate for his men.
Half stay outside the city full of spiraling vultures because apparently at least a few of our characters are starting to gain some sense.
The rest enter a scene that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. There’s not a living human soul in the city. They make their way through astonishing markets of every sort of luxury and good…everyone’s dead.
Dried out corpses lay where their owners perished, among the silks, perfumes and treasures they were attempting to sell. It's the planet Miranda from Serenity minus the whole Reaver thing.
They come upon a palace even finer than anything they’ve yet seen (with yet another warning about the illusions of this world and how all these people perished. You presumably know by now the effect this has on Musa’s emotional state). They pass through room after beautiful room
These contain, well, everything. More precious metals and gems than you could imagine. Trunks of pearls and fine glass and silk brocade in every color. Beautifully worked weapons from every corner of the world. The rarest of perfumes and incenses.
They keep going, coming upon the finest room of them all; a garden of flowers and fountains and jeweled birds. The floor is marble polished with such perfection that it looks like water. And at its center, lies a beautiful woman, dead as the rest of her city.
But her cheeks are still rosy, her hair black…and her eyes twinkle at them.
Everyone with sense at this point:
Everyone with sense at this point:
Oh, surprise, this leaves our main characters! They realize the woman is indeed dead; she’s just been skillfully embalmed and her eyes filled with quicksilver so they continue the appearance of being alive because THIS IS THING YOU TAKE THE TIME TO DO WHEN DYING OF FAMINE.
I digress. Anyway, there is yet another inscription, explaining that the lady is Tadmurah, a princess of the Amalekites. She was a just and righteous person but when famine came to her city, its wealth could not save it and all its denizens perished.*
*I’m paraphrasing. This is the NIGHTS! There is an approximately 9,231,476 word essay at this point reiterating yet again that THIS WORLD IS TRANSITORY AND YOUR WEALTH WILL NOT SAVE YOU!
Curiously, looming over the dearly departed Tadmurah are two enormous copper statues with really sharp swords. And while the inscription says intruders are welcome to the treasures of the palace, they should REALLY not touch Tadmurah.
But, like, Tadmurah’s garments are awesome! She’s got a crown of red gold and refulgent gems (yes, refulgent—and this isn’t even from the Burton translation) A dress of pearls and silk!
And Talib is a man of this world, c’mon (though, clearly despite his name, has learned nothing from the 400 posted warnings in this story). He’s not leaving this stuff behind when he could use it to ingratiate himself with The Bored King.
He makes a move for Tadmurah and those statues CUT HIM RIGHT DOWN. One strikes him in the back and the next lops off his head.
(Btw, I have most definitely never fantasized about this fate befalling the various European plunderers who spent their careers spiriting away the historical treasures of the places they colonized. “Oh, do you think the Benin ivories are beautiful?” Statue-slash!)
Anyway, Emir Musa, who’s been weeping over broken columns in the desert, looks at the murdered body of his loyal companion of a years-long trek, shrugs and is like “told ya greed is bad, brother” before loading his camels with the treasures of a dead kingdom.
They book it out of the City of Brass. Shortly after, they finally come upon the coast where the brass bottles are said to be found…you remember, their actual goal.
They greet its king, who is presumably all “Hey, it’s the kinsmen of the people who made passive aggressive remarks about my race while they ate all my food! Salaam alaykum!”
But he’s a good host and gives them some of the bottles of screaming jinn and some sea creatures (mermaids?). Don’t get attached. The mermaids astonishingly do not survive the overland journey back across the desert to Damascus.
They make it back to The Bored King Abd al-Malik and present him with the bottles and their story of the journey. He breaks the bottles, the giant jinn rush out in puff of smoke, scream “REPENT!” and then vanish.
And that’s it! Years of travel and the deaths of multiple people for a few seconds of spectacle. Honestly, someone could have loosed a couple firecrackers and had a particularly loud muezzin yell over them, but hey, the king’s gotta be entertained.
The king divides the treasure among the faithful citizens of Damascus (ha! the most unbelievable thing in this entire story), Emir Musa retires to Jerusalem with his tear-soaked accounts, and Sheikh es-Samad presumably goes back to being an elderly Indiana Jones in Egypt.
Until of course, the Destroyer of Delights comes for them all.
Now, I love this story (I named my first novel after it). But I love it for various reasons. One, it is the perfect example of a genre called aja’ib in medieval Arabic literature.
Aja’ib refers to stories that invited the listener/reader to marvel at the wonders of God’s creations…not just because the stories were exciting but because remarking upon such marvels was literally a pious act.
(And maybe because it also gave the storyteller a better excuse when his mother was all like “when will you stop wasting your life telling tales of jinn in the midan? You know your cousin is a successful alchemist with three children!”)
I also really like it because the story is replete with references to civilizations far more ancient than the medieval. Many of the inscriptions are said to be in ancient Greek and it talks about the long-vanished kingdoms in the region.
I like history and I’ve always had a particular affection for reading historical stories of people dealing with THEIR history...
... whether it be medieval guilds of treasure hunters in Egypt or the Abbasids of Iraq trying to come up with excuses for why they couldn’t match the architectural skill of the ancient Persians whose ruins they passed through.
Also “The City of Brass” might have slight historical precedence as well because in one of the accounts of the Islamic conquest of Spain, one of the commanders (named Musa!) supposedly found a bunch of copper bottles containing trapped jinn.
AND GOT RID OF THEM. BECAUSE THEY WERE A DISTRACTION.
Which, for one, major missed opportunity to take part in a fairy tale, Musa. Also, just throwing it out there that several hundred years later, those bottles might have come in use during a certain war effort. We could still be calling the adhan in Alhambra!
Anyway, as with all my threads on history and folktales, I’m always happy to hear from people with more knowledge below. There’s a more academic take on the tale here that’s quite interesting (if GIF-less) jstor.org/stable/614620?…
And if you’ve made it this far, have some $$$ and believe in the importance of telling our own stories, won’t you consider a donation to the below? unbound.com/books/cut-from…
That’s it! I’m probably going to regret the Alhambra joke should this thread make its way to certain corners of the internet, but hey, I hear the world is transient.
