The_Arabian_Nights.pdf

The Arabian Nights Entertainments,

Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

after the edition of Longmans, Green and Co, 1918 (1898)

Preface

The stories in the Fairy Books have generally been such as old women in country places tell to their

grandchildren. Nobody knows how old they are, or who told them first. The children of Ham, Shem and

Japhet may have listened to them in the Ark, on wet days. Hector's little boy may have heard them in Troy

Town, for it is certain that Homer knew them, and that some of them were written down in Egypt about the

time of Moses.

People in different countries tell them differently, but they are always the same stories, really, whether among

little Zulus, at the Cape, or little Eskimo, near the North Pole. The changes are only in matters of manners and

customs; such as wearing clothes or not, meeting lions who talk in the warm countries, or talking bears in the

cold countries. There are plenty of kings and queens in the fairy tales, just because long ago there were plenty

of kings in the country. A gentleman who would be a squire now was a kind of king in Scotland in very old

times, and the same in other places. These old stories, never forgotten, were taken down in writing in different

ages, but mostly in this century, in all sorts of languages. These ancient stories are the contents of the Fairy

books.

Now "The Arabian Nights," some of which, but not nearly all, are given in this volume, are only fairy tales of

the East. The people of Asia, Arabia, and Persia told them in their own way, not for children, but for

grown-up people. There were no novels then, nor any printed books, of course; but there were people whose

profession it was to amuse men and women by telling tales. They dressed the fairy stories up, and made the

Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

characters good Mahommedans, living in Bagdad or India. The events were often supposed to happen in the

reign of the great Caliph, or ruler of the Faithful, Haroun al Raschid, who lived in Bagdad in 786-808 A.D.

The vizir who accompanies the Caliph was also a real person of the great family of the Barmecides. He was

put to death by the Caliph in a very cruel way, nobody ever knew why. The stories must have been told in

their present shape a good long while after the Caliph died, when nobody knew very exactly what had really

happened. At last some storyteller thought of writing down the tales, and fixing them into a kind of

framework, as if they had all been narrated to a cruel Sultan by his wife. Probably the tales were written down

about the time when Edward I. was fighting Robert Bruce. But changes were made in them at different times,

and a great deal that is very dull and stupid was put in, and plenty of verses. Neither the verses nor the dull

pieces are given in this book.

People in France and England knew almost nothing about "The Arabian Nights" till the reigns of Queen Anne

and George I., when they were translated into French by Monsieur Galland. Grown-up people were then very

fond of fairy tales, and they thought these Arab stories the best that they had ever read. They were delighted

with Ghouls (who lived among the tombs) and Geni, who seemed to be a kind of ogres, and with Princesses

who work magic spells, and with Peris, who are Arab fairies. Sindbad had adventures which perhaps came out

of the Odyssey of Homer; in fact, all the East had contributed its wonders, and sent them to Europe in one

parcel. Young men once made a noise at Monsieur Galland's windows in the dead of night, and asked him to

tell them one of his marvellous tales. Nobody talked of anything but dervishes and vizirs, rocs and peris. The

stories were translated from French into all languages, and only Bishop Atterbury complained that the tales

were not likely to be true, and had no moral. The bishops was presently banished for being on the side of

Prince Charlie's father, and had leisure to repent of being so solemn.

In this book "The Arabian Nights" are translated from the French version of Monsieur Galland, who dropped

out the poetry and a great deal of what the Arabian authors thought funny, though it seems wearisome to us. In

this book the stories are shortened here and there, and omissions are made of pieces only suitable for Arabs

and old gentlemen. The translations are by the writers of the tales in the Fairy Books, and the pictures are by

Mr. Ford.

I can remember reading "The Arabian Nights" when I was six years old, in dirty yellow old volumes of small

type with no pictures, and I hope children who read them with Mr. Ford's pictures will be as happy as I was

then in the company of Aladdin and Sindbad the Sailor.

The Arabian Nights

In the chronicles of the ancient dynasty of the Sassanidae, who reigned for about four hundred years, from

Persia to the borders of China, beyond the great river Ganges itself, we read the praises of one of the kings of

this race, who was said to be the best monarch of his time. His subjects loved him, and his neighbors feared

him, and when he died he left his kingdom in a more prosperous and powerful condition than any king had

done before him.

The two sons who survived him loved each other tenderly, and it was a real grief to the elder, Schahriar, that

the laws of the empire forbade him to share his dominions with his brother Schahzeman. Indeed, after ten

years, during which this state of things had not ceased to trouble him, Schahriar cut off the country of Great

Tartary from the Persian Empire and made his brother king.

Now the Sultan Schahriar had a wife whom he loved more than all the world, and his greatest happiness was

to surround her with splendour, and to give her the finest dresses and the most beautiful jewels. It was

therefore with the deepest shame and sorrow that he accidentally discovered, after several years, that she had

deceived him completely, and her whole conduct turned out to have been so bad, that he felt himself obliged

to carry out the law of the land, and order the grand-vizir to put her to death. The blow was so heavy that his

mind almost gave way, and he declared that he was quite sure that at bottom all women were as wicked as the

Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

sultana, if you could only find them out, and that the fewer the world contained the better. So every evening

he married a fresh wife and had her strangled the following morning before the grand-vizir, whose duty it was

to provide these unhappy brides for the Sultan. The poor man fulfilled his task with reluctance, but there was

no escape, and every day saw a girl married and a wife dead.

This behaviour caused the greatest horror in the town, where nothing was heard but cries and lamentations. In

one house was a father weeping for the loss of his daughter, in another perhaps a mother trembling for the fate

of her child; and instead of the blessings that had formerly been heaped on the Sultan's head, the air was now

full of curses.

The grand-vizir himself was the father of two daughters, of whom the elder was called Scheherazade, and the

younger Dinarzade. Dinarzade had no particular gifts to distinguish her from other girls, but her sister was

clever and courageous in the highest degree. Her father had given her the best masters in philosophy,

medicine, history and the fine arts, and besides all this, her beauty excelled that of any girl in the kingdom of

Persia.

One day, when the grand-vizir was talking to his eldest daughter, who was his delight and pride, Scheherazade

said to him, "Father, I have a favour to ask of you. Will you grant it to me?"

"I can refuse you nothing," replied he, "that is just and reasonable."

"Then listen," said Scheherazade. "I am determined to stop this barbarous practice of the Sultan's, and to

deliver the girls and mothers from the awful fate that hangs over them."

"It would be an excellent thing to do," returned the grand-vizir, "but how do you propose to accomplish it?"

"My father," answered Scheherazade, "it is you who have to provide the Sultan daily with a fresh wife, and I

implore you, by all the affection you bear me, to allow the honour to fall upon me."

"Have you lost your senses?" cried the grand-vizir, starting back in horror. "What has put such a thing into

your head? You ought to know by this time what it means to be the sultan's bride!"

"Yes, my father, I know it well," replied she, "and I am not afraid to think of it. If I fail, my death will be a

glorious one, and if I succeed I shall have done a great service to my country."

"It is of no use," said the grand-vizir, "I shall never consent. If the Sultan was to order me to plunge a dagger

in your heart, I should have to obey. What a task for a father! Ah, if you do not fear death, fear at any rate the

anguish you would cause me."

"Once again, my father," said Scheherazade, "will you grant me what I ask?"

"What, are you still so obstinate?" exclaimed the grand-vizir. "Why are you so resolved upon your own ruin?"

But the maiden absolutely refused to attend to her father's words, and at length, in despair, the grand-vizir was

obliged to give way, and went sadly to the palace to tell the Sultan that the following evening he would bring

him Scheherazade.

The Sultan received this news with the greatest astonishment.

"How have you made up your mind," he asked, "to sacrifice your own daughter to me?"

"Sire," answered the grand-vizir, "it is her own wish. Even the sad fate that awaits her could not hold her

Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

back."

"Let there be no mistake, vizir," said the Sultan. "Remember you will have to take her life yourself. If you

refuse, I swear that your head shall pay forfeit."

"Sire," returned the vizir. "Whatever the cost, I will obey you. Though a father, I am also your subject." So the

Sultan told the grand-vizir he might bring his daughter as soon as he liked.

The vizir took back this news to Scheherazade, who received it as if it had been the most pleasant thing in the

world. She thanked her father warmly for yielding to her wishes, and, seeing him still bowed down with grief,

told him that she hoped he would never repent having allowed her to marry the Sultan. Then she went to

prepare herself for the marriage, and begged that her sister Dinarzade should be sent for to speak to her.

When they were alone, Scheherazade addressed her thus:

"My dear sister; I want your help in a very important affair. My father is going to take me to the palace to

celebrate my marriage with the Sultan. When his Highness receives me, I shall beg him, as a last favour, to let

you sleep in our chamber, so that I may have your company during the last night I am alive. If, as I hope, he

grants me my wish, be sure that you wake me an hour before the dawn, and speak to me in these words: "My

sister, if you are not asleep, I beg you, before the sun rises, to tell me one of your charming stories." Then I

shall begin, and I hope by this means to deliver the people from the terror that reigns over them." Dinarzade

replied that she would do with pleasure what her sister wished.

When the usual hour arrived the grand-vizir conducted Scheherazade to the palace, and left her alone with the

Sultan, who bade her raise her veil and was amazed at her beauty. But seeing her eyes full of tears, he asked

what was the matter. "Sire," replied Scheherazade, "I have a sister who loves me as tenderly as I love her.

Grant me the favour of allowing her to sleep this night in the same room, as it is the last we shall be together."

Schahriar consented to Scheherazade's petition and Dinarzade was sent for.

An hour before daybreak Dinarzade awoke, and exclaimed, as she had promised, "My dear sister, if you are

not asleep, tell me I pray you, before the sun rises, one of your charming stories. It is the last time that I shall

have the pleasure of hearing you."

Scheherazade did not answer her sister, but turned to the Sultan. "Will your highness permit me to do as my

sister asks?" said she.

"Willingly," he answered. So Scheherazade began.

The Story of the Merchant and the Genius

Sire, there was once upon a time a merchant who possessed great wealth, in land and merchandise, as well as

in ready money. He was obliged from time to time to take journeys to arrange his affairs. One day, having to

go a long way from home, he mounted his horse, taking with him a small wallet in which he had put a few

biscuits and dates, because he had to pass through the desert where no food was to be got. He arrived without

any mishap, and, having finished his business, set out on his return. On the fourth day of his journey, the heat

of the sun being very great, he turned out of his road to rest under some trees. He found at the foot of a large

walnut-tree a fountain of clear and running water. He dismounted, fastened his horse to a branch of the tree,

and sat by the fountain, after having taken from his wallet some of his dates and biscuits. When he had

finished this frugal meal he washed his face and hands in the fountain.

When he was thus employed he saw an enormous genius, white with rage, coming towards him, with a

scimitar in his hand.

Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang

"Arise," he cried in a terrible voice, "and let me kill you as you have killed my son!"

As he uttered these words he gave a frightful yell. The merchant, quite as much terrified at the hideous face of

the monster as at his words, answered him tremblingly, "Alas, good sir, what can I have done to you to

deserve death?"

"I shall kill you," repeated the genius, "as you have killed my son."

"But," said the merchant, "How can I have killed your son? I do not know him, and I have never even seen

him."

"When you arrived here did you not sit down on the ground?" asked the genius, "and did you not take some

dates from your wallet, and whilst eating them did not you throw the stones about?"

"Yes," said the merchant, "I certainly did so."

"Then," said the genius, "I tell you you have killed my son, for whilst you were throwing about the stones, my

son passed by, and one of them struck him in the eye and killed him. So I shall kill you."

"Ah, sir, forgive me!" cried the merchant.

"I will have no mercy on you," answered the genius.

"But I killed your son quite unintentionally, so I implore you to spare my life."

"No," said the genius, "I shall kill you as you killed my son," and so saying, he seized the merchant by the

arm, threw him on the ground, and lifted his sabre to cut off his head.

The merchant, protesting his innocence, bewailed his wife and children, and tried pitifully to avert his fate.

The genius, with his raised scimitar, waited till he had finished, but was not in the least touched.

Scheherazade, at this point, seeing that it was day, and knowing that the Sultan always rose very early to

attend the council, stopped speaking.

"Indeed, sister," said Dinarzade, "this is a wonderful story."

"The rest is still more wonderful," replied Scheherazade, "and you would say so, if the sultan would allow me

to live another day, and would give me leave to tell it to you the next night."

Schahriar, who had been listening to Scheherazade with pleasure, said to himself, "I will wait till to-morrow; I

can always have her killed when I have heard the end of her story."

All this time the grand-vizir was in a terrible state of anxiety. But he was much delighted when he saw the

Sultan enter the council-chamber without giving the terrible command that he was expecting.

The next morning, before the day broke, Dinarzade said to her sister, "Dear sister, if you are awake I pray you

to go on with your story."

The Sultan did not wait for Scheherazade to ask his leave. "Finish," said he, "the story of the genius and the

merchant. I am curious to hear the end."

So Scheherazade went on with the story. This happened every morning. The Sultana told a story, and the

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: