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The genie immediately returned with a tray bearing
dishes of the most delicious viands. Page 168.
THE WINDERMERE SERIES
The Arabian Nights
Entertainments
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
MILO WINTER
RAND McNALLY & COMPANY
CHICAGONEW YORK
Copyright, 1914, by
Rand McNally & Company
[3]
THE INTRODUCTION
The Arabian Nights was introduced to Europe in a French
translation by Antoine Galland in 1704, and rapidly attained a unique
popularity. There are even accounts of the translator being roused from
sleep by bands of young men under his windows in Paris, importuning him to
tell them another story.
The learned world at first refused to believe that M. Galland had not
invented the tales. But he had really discovered an Arabic manuscript from
sixteenth-century Egypt, and had consulted Oriental story-tellers. In
spite of inaccuracies and loss of color, his twelve volumes long remained
classic in France, and formed the basis of our popular translations.
A more accurate version, corrected from the Arabic, with a style
admirably direct, easy, and simple, was published by Dr. Jonathan Scott in
1811. This is the text of the present edition.
The Moslems delight in stories, but are generally ashamed to show a
literary interest in fiction. Hence the world's most delightful story book
has come to us with but scant indications of its origin. Critical
scholarship, however, has been able to reach fairly definite conclusions.
The reader will be interested to trace out for himself the similarities
in the adventures of the two Persian queens, Schehera-zade, and Esther of
Bible story, which M. de Goeje has pointed out as indicating their
original identity (Encyclopædia Britannica, "Thousand and One
Nights"). There are two or three references in tenth-century Arabic
literature to a Persian collection of tales, called The Thousand Nights,
by the fascination of which the lady Schehera-zade kept winning one more
day's lease of life. A good many of the tales as we have them contain
elements clearly indicating Persian or Hindu origin. But most of the
stories, even those with scenes laid in Persia or India, are thoroughly
Mohammedan in thought, feeling, situation, and action.[4]
The favorite scene is "the glorious city," ninth-century
Bagdad, whose caliph, Haroun al Raschid, though a great king, and heir of
still mightier men, is known to fame chiefly by the favor of these tales.
But the contents (with due regard to the possibility of later insertions),
references in other writings, and the dialect show that our Arabian
Nights took form in Egypt very soon after the year 1450. The author,
doubtless a professional teller of stories, was, like his Schehera-zade, a
person of extensive reading and faultless memory, fluent of speech, and
ready on occasion to drop into poetry. The coarseness of the Arabic
narrative, which does not appear in our translation, is characteristic of
Egyptian society under the Mameluke sultans. It would have been tolerated
by the subjects of the caliph in old Bagdad no more than by modern
Christians.
More fascinating stories were never told. Though the oath of an
Oriental was of all things the most sacred, and though Schah-riar had
"bound himself by a solemn vow to marry a new wife every night, and
command her to be strangled in the morning," we well believe that he
forswore himself, and granted his bride a stay of execution until he could
find out why the ten polite young gentlemen, all blind of the right eye,
"having blackened themselves, wept and lamented, beating their heads
and breasts, and crying continually, 'This is the fruit of our idleness
and curiosity.'" To be sure, when the golden door has been opened,
and the black horse has vanished with that vicious switch of his tail, we
have a little feeling of having been "sold,"—a feeling which
great art never gives. But we are in the best of humor; for were we not
warned all along against just this foible of curiosity, and is not the
story-teller smiling inscrutably and advising us to be thankful that we at
least still have our two good eyes?
Beside the story interest, the life and movement of the tales, the
spirits that enter and set their own precedents, there is for us the charm
of mingling with men so different from ourselves: men adventurous but
never strenuous, men of many tribulations but no perplexities. Fantastic,
magnificent, extravagant, beautiful, gloriously colored, humorous—was
ever book of such infinite contrasts?
[5]
THE CONTENTS
[6]
[7]
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
[8]
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
[9]
THE SULTAN
AND HIS VOW
It is written in the chronicles of the Sassanian monarchs that there
once lived an illustrious prince, beloved by his own subjects for his
wisdom and his prudence, and feared by his enemies for his courage and for
the hardy and well-disciplined army of which he was the leader. This
prince had two sons, the elder called Schah-riar, and the younger
Schah-zenan, both equally good and deserving of praise.
When the old king died at the end of a long and glorious reign,
Schah-riar, his eldest son, ascended the throne and reigned in his stead.
Schah-zenan, however, was not in the least envious, and a friendly contest
soon arose between the two brothers as to which could best promote the
happiness of the other. Schah-zenan did all he could to show his loyalty
and affection, while the new sultan loaded his brother with all possible
honors, and in order that he might in some degree share the sultan's power
and wealth, bestowed on him the kingdom of Great Tartary. Schah-zenan
immediately went to take possession of the empire allotted him, and fixed
his residence at Samarcand, the chief city.
After a separation of ten years Schah-riar so ardently desired to see
his brother, that he sent his first vizier,[1]
with a splendid embassy, to invite him to revisit his [10]court.
As soon as Schah-zenan was informed of the approach of the vizier, he went
out to meet him, with all his ministers, in most magnificent dress, and
inquired after the health of the sultan, his brother. Having replied to
these affectionate inquiries, the vizier told the purpose of his coming.
Schah-zenan, who was much affected at the kindness and recollection of his
brother, then addressed the vizier in these words: "Sage vizier, the
sultan, my brother, does me too much honor. It is impossible that his wish
to see me can exceed my desire of again beholding him. You have come at a
happy moment. My kingdom is tranquil, and in ten days' time I will be
ready to depart with you. Meanwhile pitch your tents on this spot, and I
will order every refreshment and accommodation for you and your whole
train."
At the end of ten days everything was ready, and Schah-zenan took a
tender leave of the queen, his consort. Accompanied by such officers as he
had appointed to attend him, he left Samarcand in the evening and camped
near the tents of his brother's ambassador, that they might proceed on
their journey early the following morning. Wishing, however, once more to
see his queen, whom he tenderly loved, he returned privately to the
palace, and went directly to her apartment. There, to his extreme grief,
he found her in the company of a slave whom she plainly loved better than
himself. Yielding to the first outburst of his indignation, the
unfortunate monarch drew his scimitar, and with one rapid stroke slew them
both.
He then went from the city as privately as he had entered it, and
returned to his pavilion. Not a word[11]
did he say to any one of what had happened. At dawn he ordered the tents
to be struck, and the party set forth on their journey to the sound of
drums and other musical instruments. The whole train was filled with joy,
except the king, who could think of nothing but his queen, and he was a
prey to the deepest grief and melancholy during the whole journey.
When he approached the capital of Persia he perceived the Sultan
Schah-riar and all his court coming out to greet him. As soon as the
parties met the two brothers alighted and embraced each other; and after a
thousand expressions of regard, remounted and entered the city amid the
shouts of the multitude. The sultan there conducted the king his brother
to a palace which had been prepared for him. This palace communicated by a
garden with the sultan's own and was even more magnificent, as it was the
spot where all the fêtes and splendid entertainments of the court were
given.
Schah-riar left the King of Tartary in order that he might bathe and
change his dress; but immediately on his return from the bath went to him
again. They seated themselves on a sofa, and conversed till supper time.
After so long a separation they seemed even more united by affection than
by blood. They ate supper together, and then continued their conversation
till Schah-riar, perceiving the night far advanced, left his brother to
repose.
The unfortunate Schah-zenan retired to his couch; but if in the
presence of the sultan he had for a while forgotten his grief, it now
returned with doubled force. Every circumstance of the queen's death arose
to his mind and kept him awake, and left such a look of sorrow[12]
on his face that next morning the sultan could not fail to notice it. He
did all in his power to show his continued love and affection, and sought
to amuse his brother with the most splendid entertainments, but the gayest
fêtes served only to increase Schah-zenan's melancholy.
One morning when Schah-riar had given orders for a grand hunting party
at the distance of two days' journey from the city, Schah-zenan requested
permission to remain in his palace on account of a slight illness. The
sultan, wishing to please him, consented, but he himself went with all his
court to partake of the sport.
The King of Tartary was no sooner alone than he shut himself up in his
apartment, and gave way to his sorrow. But as he sat thus grieving at the
open window, looking out upon the beautiful garden of the palace, he
suddenly saw the sultana, the beloved wife of his brother, meet a man in
the garden with whom she held an affectionate conversation. Upon
witnessing this interview, Schah-zenan determined that he would no longer
give way to such inconsolable grief for a misfortune which came to other
husbands as well as to himself. He ordered supper to be brought, and ate
with a better appetite than he had before done since leaving Samarcand. He
even enjoyed the fine concert performed while he sat at table.
Schah-riar returned from the hunt at the close of the second day, and
was delighted at the change which he soon found had taken place in his
brother. He urged him to explain the cause of his former depression and of
his present joy. The King of Tartary, feeling it his duty to obey his
suzerain lord, related the story of his[13]
wife's misconduct, and of the severe punishment which he had visited on
her. Schah-riar expressed his full approval of his brother's conduct.
"I own," he said, "had I been in your place I should
have been less easily satisfied. I should not have been contented to take
away the life of one woman, but should have sacrificed a thousand to my
resentment. Your fate, surely, is most singular. Since, however, it has
pleased God to afford you consolation, which, I am sure, is as well
founded as was your grief, inform me, I beg, of that also."
Schah-zenan was very reluctant to relate what he had seen, but at last
yielded to the urgent commands and entreaties of his brother, and told him
of the faithlessness of his own queen.
At this unexpected news, the rage and grief of Schah-riar knew no
bounds. He far exceeded his brother in his invectives and indignation. Not
only did he sentence to death his unhappy sultana but bound himself by a
solemn vow that, immediately on the departure of the king his brother, he
would marry a new wife every night, and command her to be strangled in the
morning. Schah-zenan soon after had a solemn audience of leave, and
returned to his own kingdom, laden with the most magnificent presents.
When Schah-zenan was gone the sultan began to carry out his unhappy
oath. Every night he married the daughter of some one of his subjects, and
the next morning she was ordered out and put to death. It was the duty of
the grand vizier to execute these commands of the sultan's, and revolting
as they were to him, he was obliged to submit or lose his own head.[14]
The report of this unexampled inhumanity spread a panic of consternation
throughout the city. Instead of the praises and blessings with which,
until now, they had loaded their monarch, all his subjects poured out
curses on his head.
The grand vizier had two daughters, the elder of whom was called
Schehera-zade, and the younger Dinar-zade. Schehera-zade was possessed of
a remarkable degree of courage. She had read much, and had so good a
memory that she never forgot anything she had once read or heard. Her
beauty was equaled only by her virtuous disposition. The vizier was
passionately fond of her.
One day as they were talking together, she made the astonishing request
that she might have the honor of becoming the sultan's bride. The grand
vizier was horrified, and tried to dissuade her. He pointed out the
fearful penalty attached to the favor she sought. Schehera-zade, however,
persisted, telling her father she had in mind a plan which she thought
might put a stop to the sultan's dreadful cruelty.
"I am aware of the danger I run, my father," she said,
"but it does not deter me from my purpose. If I die, my death will be
glorious; if I succeed, I shall render my country an important
service."
Still the vizier was most reluctant to allow his beloved child to enter
on so dangerous an enterprise, and attempted to turn her from her purpose
by telling her the following story:[15]
THE FABLE OF THE ASS, THE OX, AND THE LABORER
A very rich merchant had several farmhouses in the country, where he
bred every kind of cattle. This merchant
understood the language of beasts. He obtained this privilege on the
condition of not imparting to any one what he heard, under penalty of
death.
By chance[2]
he had put an ox and an ass into the same stall; and being seated near
them, he heard the ox say to the ass: "How happy do I think your lot.
A servant looks after you with great care, washes you, feeds you with fine
sifted barley, and gives you fresh and clean water; your greatest task is
to carry the merchant, our master. My condition is as unfortunate as yours
is pleasant. They yoke me to a plow the whole day, while the laborer urges
me on with his goad. The weight and force of the plow, too, chafes all the
skin from my neck. When I have worked from morning till night, they give
me unwholesome and uninviting food. Have I not, then, reason to envy your
lot?"
When he had finished, the ass replied in these words: "Believe me,
they would not treat you thus if you possessed as much courage as
strength. When they come to tie you to the manger, what resistance, pray,
do you ever make? Do you ever push them with your horns? Do you ever show
your anger by stamping on the ground with your feet? Why don't you terrify
them with your bellowing? Nature has given you the means of making
yourself respected, and yet you neglect to use them. They bring you bad
beans and [16]chaff.
Well, do not eat them; smell at them only and leave them. Thus, if you
follow my plans, you will soon perceive a change, which you will thank me
for."
The ox took the advice of the ass very kindly, and declared himself
much obliged to him.
Early the next morning the laborer came for the ox, and yoked him to
the plow, and set him to work as usual. The latter, who had not forgotten
the advice he had received, was very unruly the whole day; and at night,
when the laborer attempted to fasten him to the stall, he ran bellowing
back, and put down his horns to strike him; in short, he did exactly as
the ass had advised him.
On the next morning, when the man came, he found the manger still full
of beans and chaff, and the ox lying on the ground with his legs stretched
out, and making a strange groaning. The laborer thought him very ill, and
that it would be useless to take him to work; he, therefore, immediately
went and informed the merchant.
The latter perceived that the bad advice of the ass had been followed;
and he told the laborer to go and take the ass instead of the ox, and not
fail to give him plenty of exercise. The man obeyed; and the ass was
obliged to drag the plow the whole day, which tired him the more because
he was unaccustomed to it; besides which, he was so beaten that he could
scarcely support himself when he came back, and fell down in his stall
half dead.
Here the grand vizier said to Schehera-zade: "You are, my child,
just like this ass, and would expose yourself to destruction."
"Sir," replied Schehera-zade, "the example which you
have brought does not alter my resolution, and I [17]shall
not cease importuning you till I have obtained from you the favor of
presenting me to the sultan as his consort."
He had the gift of understanding the language of
beasts. Page 15
The vizier, finding her persistent in her request, said, "Well
then, since you will remain thus obstinate, I shall be obliged to treat
you as the rich merchant I mentioned did his wife."
Being told in what a miserable state the ass was, he was curious to
know what passed between him and the ox. After supper, therefore, he went
out by moonlight, accompanied by his wife, and sat down near them; on his
arrival, he heard the ass say to the ox, "Tell me, brother, what you
mean to do when the laborer brings you food to-morrow!"
"Mean to do!" replied the ox. "Why, what you taught me,
to be sure."
"Take care," interrupted the ass, "what you are about,
lest you destroy yourself; for in coming home yesterday evening, I heard
our master say these sad words: 'Since the ox can neither eat nor support
himself, I wish him to be killed to-morrow; do not, therefore, fail to
send for the butcher.' This is what I heard; and the interest I take in
your safety, and the friendship I have for you, induces me to mention it.
When they bring you beans and chaff, get up, and begin eating directly.
Our master, by this, will suppose that you have recovered, and will,
without doubt, revoke the sentence for your death; in my opinion, if you
act otherwise, it is all over with you."
This speech produced the intended effect; the ox was much troubled, and
lowed with fear. The merchant, who had listened to everything with great[18]
attention, burst into a fit of laughter that quite surprised his wife.
"Tell me," said she, "what you laugh at, that I may join
in it. I wish to know the cause."
"That satisfaction," replied the husband, "I cannot
afford you. I can only tell you that I laughed at what the ass said to the
ox; the rest is a secret, which I must not reveal."
"And why not?" asked his wife.
"Because, if I tell you, it will cost me my life."
"You trifle with me," added she; "this can never be
true; and if you do not immediately inform me what you laughed at, I swear
by Allah that we will live together no longer."
In saying this, she went back to the house in a pet, shut herself up,
and cried the whole night. Her husband, finding that she continued in the
same state all the next day, said, "How foolish it is to afflict
yourself in this way! Do I not seriously tell you, that if I were to yield
to your foolish importunities, it would cost me my life?"
"Whatever happens rests with Allah," said she; "but I
shall not alter my mind."
"I see very plainly," answered the merchant, "it it not
possible to make you submit to reason, and that your obstinacy will kill
you."
He then sent for the parents and other relations of his wife; when they
were all assembled, he explained to them his motives for calling them
together, and requested them to use all their influence with his wife, and
endeavor to convince her of the folly of her conduct. She rejected them
all, and said she had rather die than[19]
give up this point to her husband. When her children saw that nothing
could alter her resolution, they began to lament most bitterly—the
merchant himself knew not what to do.
A little while afterward he was sitting by chance at the door of his
house, considering whether he should not even sacrifice himself in order
to save his wife, whom he so tenderly loved, when he saw his favorite dog
run up to the cock in the farmyard, and tell him all the circumstances of
the painful situation in which he was placed. Upon which the cock said,
"How foolish must our master be. He has but one wife, and cannot gain
his point, while I have fifty, and do just as I please. Let him take a
good-sized stick, and not scruple to use it, and she will soon know
better, and not worry him to reveal what he ought to keep secret."
The merchant at once did as he suggested, on which his wife quickly
repented of her ill-timed curiosity, and all her family came in, heartily
glad at finding her more rational and submissive to her husband.
"You deserve, my daughter," added the grand vizier, "to
be treated like the merchant's wife."
"Do not, sir," answered Schehera-zade, "think ill of me
if I still persist in my sentiments. The history of this woman does not
shake my resolution. I could recount, on the other hand, many good reasons
which ought to persuade you not to oppose my design. Pardon me, too, if I
add that your opposition will be useless; for if your paternal tenderness
should refuse the request I make, I will present myself to the
sultan."
At length the vizier, overcome by his daughter's[20]
firmness, yielded to her entreaties; and although he was very sorry at not
being able to conquer her resolution, he immediately went to Schah-riar,
and announced to him that Schehera-zade herself would be his bride on the
following night.
The sultan was much astonished at the sacrifice of the grand vizier.
"Is it possible," said he, "that you can give up your own
child?"
"Sire," replied the vizier, "she has herself made the
offer. The dreadful fate that hangs over her does not alarm her; and she
resigns her life for the honor of being the consort of your majesty,
though it be but for one night."
"Vizier," said the sultan, "do not deceive yourself with
any hopes; for be assured that, in delivering Schehera-zade into your
charge to-morrow, it will be with an order for her death; and if you
disobey, your own head will be the forfeit."
"Although," answered the vizier, "I am her father, I
will answer for the fidelity of this arm in fulfilling your
commands."
When the grand vizier returned to Schehera-zade, she thanked her
father; and observing him to be much afflicted, consoled him by saying
that she hoped he would be so far from repenting her marriage with the
sultan that it would become a subject of joy to him for the remainder of
his life.
Before Schehera-zade went to the palace, she called her sister,
Dinar-zade, aside, and said, "As soon as I shall have presented
myself before the sultan, I shall entreat him to suffer you to sleep in
the bridal chamber, that I may enjoy for the last time your company. If[21]
I obtain this favor, as I expect, remember to awaken me to-morrow morning
an hour before daybreak, and say, 'If you are not asleep, my sister, I beg
of you, till the morning appears, to recount to me one of those delightful
stories you know.' I will immediately begin to tell one; and I flatter
myself that by these means I shall free the kingdom from the consternation
in which it is."
Dinar-zade promised to do with pleasure what she required.
Within a short time Schehera-zade was conducted by her father to the
palace, and was admitted to the presence of the sultan. They were no
sooner alone than the sultan ordered her to take off her veil. He was
charmed with her beauty; but perceiving her tears, he demanded the cause
of them.
"Sire," answered Schehera-zade, "I have a sister whom I
tenderly love—I earnestly wish that she might be permitted to pass the
night in this apartment, that we may again see each other, and once more
take a tender farewell. Will you allow me the consolation of giving her
this last proof of my affection?"
Schah-riar having agreed to it, they sent for Dinar-zade, who came
directly. The sultan passed the night with Schehera-zade on an elevated
couch, as was the custom among the eastern monarchs, and Dinar-zade slept
at the foot of it on a mattress prepared for the purpose.
Dinar-zade, having awakened about an hour before day, did what her
sister had ordered her. "My dear sister," she said, "if you
are not asleep, I entreat you, as it will soon be light, to relate to me
one of those[22]
delightful tales you know. It will, alas, be the last time I shall receive
that pleasure."
Instead of returning any answer to her sister, Schehera-zade addressed
these words to the sultan: "Will your majesty permit me to indulge my
sister in her request?"
"Freely," replied he.
Schehera-zade then desired her sister to attend, and, addressing
herself to the sultan, began as follows:
[23]
THE
STORY OF THE MERCHANT AND THE GENIE
There was formerly, sire, a merchant, who was possessed of great
wealth, in land, merchandise, and ready money. Having one day an affair of
great importance to settle at a considerable distance from home, he
mounted his horse, and with only a sort of cloak-bag behind him, in which
he had put a few biscuits and dates, he began his journey. He arrived
without any accident at the place of his destination; and having finished
his business, set out on his return.
On the fourth day of his journey he felt himself so incommoded by the
heat of the sun that he turned out of his road, in order to rest under
some trees by which there was a fountain. He alighted, and tying his horse
to a branch of the tree, sat down on its bank to eat some biscuits and
dates from his little store. When he had satisfied his hunger he amused
himself with throwing about the stones of the fruit with considerable
velocity. When he had finished his frugal repast he washed his hands, his
face, and his feet, and repeated a prayer, like a good Mussulman.[3]
He was still on his knees, when he saw a genie,[4]
[24]white
with age and of an enormous stature, advancing toward him, with a scimitar
in his hand. As soon as he was close to him he said in a most terrible
tone: "Get up, that I may kill thee with this scimitar, as thou hast
caused the death of my son." He accompanied these words with a
dreadful yell.
The merchant, alarmed by the horrible figure of this giant, as well as
by the words he heard, replied in trembling accents: "How can I have
slain him? I do not know him, nor have I ever seen him."
"Didst thou not," replied the giant, "on thine arrival
here, sit down, and take some dates from thy wallet; and after eating
them, didst thou not throw the stones about on all sides?"
"This is all true," replied the merchant; "I do not deny
it."
"Well, then," said the other, "I tell thee thou hast
killed my son; for while thou wast throwing about the stones, my son
passed by; one of them struck him in the eye, and caused his death,[5]
and thus hast thou slain my son."
"Ah, sire, forgive me," cried the merchant.
"I have neither forgiveness nor mercy," replied the giant;
"and is it not just that he who has inflicted death should suffer
it?"
"I grant this; yet surely I have not done so: and even [25]if
I have, I have done so innocently, and therefore I entreat you to pardon
me, and suffer me to live."
"No, no," cried the genie, still persisting in his
resolution, "I must destroy thee, as thou hast killed my son."
At these words, he took the merchant in his arms, and having thrown him
with his face on the ground, he lifted up his saber, in order to strike
off his head.
Schehera-zade, at this instant perceiving it was day, and knowing that
the sultan rose early to his prayers,[6]
and then to hold a council, broke off.
"What a wonderful story," said Dinar-zade, "have you
chosen!"
"The conclusion," observed Schehera-zade, "is still more
surprising, as you would confess if the sultan would suffer me to live
another day, and in the morning permit me to continue the relation."
Schah-riar, who had listened with much pleasure to the narration,
determined to wait till to-morrow, intending to order her execution after
she had finished her story.
He arose, and having prayed, went to the council.
The grand vizier, in the meantime, was in a state of cruel suspense.
Unable to sleep, he passed the night in lamenting the approaching fate of
his daughter, whose executioner he was compelled to be. Dreading,
therefore, in this melancholy situation, to meet the sultan, [26]how
great was his surprise in seeing him enter the council chamber without
giving him the horrible order he expected!
The sultan spent the day, as usual, in regulating the affairs of his
kingdom, and on the approach of night, retired with Schehera-zade to his
apartment.[7]
On the next morning, the sultan did not wait for Schehera-zade to ask
permission to continue her story, but said, "Finish the tale of the
genie and the merchant. I am curious to hear the end of it."
Schehera-zade immediately went on as follows:
When the merchant, sire, perceived that the genie was about to execute
his purpose, he cried aloud: "One word more, I entreat you; have the
goodness to grant me a little delay; give me only one year to go and take
leave of my dear wife and children, and I promise to return to this spot,
and submit myself entirely to your pleasure."
"Take Allah to witness of the promise thou hast made me,"
said the other.
"Again I swear," replied he, "and you may rely on my
oath."
On this the genie left him near the fountain, and immediately
disappeared.
The merchant, on his reaching home, related faithfully all that had
happened to him. On hearing the sad news, his wife uttered the most
lamentable groans, tearing her hair and beating her breast; and his
children made the house resound with their grief. The father, [27]overcome
by affection, mingled his tears with theirs.
The year quickly passed. The good merchant having settled his affairs,
paid his just debts, given alms to the poor, and made provision to the
best of his ability for his wife and family, tore himself away amid the
most frantic expressions of grief; and mindful of his oath, he arrived at
the destined spot on the very day he had promised.
While he was waiting for the arrival of the genie, there suddenly
appeared an old man leading a hind, who, after a respectful salutation,
inquired what brought him to that desert place. The merchant satisfied the
old man's curiosity, and related his adventure, on which he expressed a
wish to witness his interview with the genie. He had scarcely finished his
speech when another old man, accompanied by two black dogs, came in sight,
and having heard the tale of the merchant, he also determined to remain to
see the event.
Soon they perceived, toward the plain, a thick vapor or smoke, like a
column of dust raised by the wind. This vapor approached them, and then
suddenly disappearing, they saw the genie, who, without noticing the
others, went toward the merchant, scimitar in hand. Taking him by the arm,
"Get up," said he, "that I may kill thee, as thou hast
slain my son."
Both the merchant and the two old men, struck with terror, began to
weep and fill the air with their lamentations.
When the old man who conducted the hind saw the genie lay hold of the
merchant, and about to murder him without mercy, he threw himself at the
monster's[28]
feet, and, kissing them, said, "Lord Genie, I humbly entreat you to
suspend your rage, and hear my history, and that of the hind, which you
see; and if you find it more wonderful and surprising than the adventure
of this merchant, whose life you wish to take, may I not hope that you
will at least grant me one half part the blood of this unfortunate
man?"
After meditating some time, the genie answered, "Well then, I
agree to it."
THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST OLD MAN AND THE HIND
The hind, whom you, Lord Genie, see here, is my wife. I married her
when she was twelve years old, and we lived together thirty years, without
having any children. At the end of that time I adopted into my family a
son, whom a slave had borne. This act of mine excited against the mother
and her child the hatred and jealousy of my wife. During my absence on a
journey she availed herself of her knowledge of magic to change the slave
and my adopted son into a cow and a calf, and sent them to my farm to be
fed and taken care of by the steward.
Immediately on my return I inquired after my child and his mother.
"Your slave is dead," said she, "and it is now more than
two months since I have beheld your son; nor do I know what has become of
him."
I was sensibly affected at the death of the slave; but as my son had
only disappeared, I flattered myself that he would soon be found. Eight
months, however, passed, and he did not return; nor could I learn any[29]
tidings of him. In order to celebrate the festival of the great Bairam,[8]
which was approaching, I ordered my bailiff to bring me the fattest cow I
possessed, for a sacrifice. He obeyed my commands. Having bound the cow, I
was about to make the sacrifice, when at the very instant she lowed most
sorrowfully, and the tears even fell from her eyes. This seemed to me so
extraordinary that I could not but feel compassion for her, and was unable
to give the fatal blow. I therefore ordered her to be taken away, and
another brought.
My wife, who was present, seemed very angry at my compassion, and
opposed my order.
I then said to my steward, "Make the sacrifice yourself; the
lamentations and tears of the animal have overcome me."
The steward was less compassionate, and sacrificed her. On taking off
the skin we found hardly anything but bones, though she appeared very fat.
"Take her away," said I to the steward, truly chagrined,
"and if you have a very fat calf, bring it in her place."
He returned with a remarkably fine calf, who, as soon as he perceived
me, made so great an effort to come to me that he broke his cord. He lay
down at my feet, with his head on the ground, as if he endeavored to
excite my compassion, and to entreat me not to have the cruelty to take
away his life.
"Wife," said I, "I will not sacrifice this calf, I wish [30]to
favor him. Do not you, therefore, oppose it."
She, however, did not agree to my proposal; and continued to demand his
sacrifice so obstinately that I was compelled to yield. I bound the calf,
and took the fatal knife to bury it in his throat, when he turned his
eyes, filled with tears, so persuasively upon me, that I had no power to
execute my intention. The knife fell from my hand, and I told my wife I
was determined to have another calf. She tried every means to induce me to
alter my mind; I continued firm, however, in my resolution, in spite of
all she could say; promising, for the sake of appeasing her, to sacrifice
this calf at the feast of Bairam on the following year.
The next morning my steward desired to speak with me in private. He
informed me that his daughter, who had some knowledge of magic, wished to
speak with me. On being admitted to my presence, she informed me that
during my absence my wife had turned the slave and my son into a cow and
calf, that I had already sacrificed the cow, but that she could restore my
son to life if I would give him to her for her husband, and allow her to
visit my wife with the punishment her cruelty had deserved. To these
proposals I gave my consent.
The damsel then took a vessel full of water, and pronouncing over it
some words I did not understand, she threw the water over the calf, and he
instantly regained his own form.
"My son! My son!" I exclaimed, and embraced him with
transport. "This damsel has destroyed the horrible charm with which
you were surrounded. I am sure your gratitude will induce you to marry
her, as I have already promised for you."[31]
He joyfully consented; but before they were united the damsel changed
my wife into this hind, which you see here.
Since this, my son has become a widower, and is now traveling. Many
years have passed since I have heard anything of him. I have, therefore,
now set out with a view to gain some information; and as I did not like to
trust my wife to the care of any one during my search, I thought proper to
carry her along with me. This is the history of myself and this hind. Can
anything be more wonderful?
"I agree with you," said the genie, "and in consequence,
I grant to you a half of the blood of this merchant."
As soon as the first old man had finished, the second, who led the two
black dogs, made the same request to the genie for a half of the
merchant's blood, on the condition that his tale exceeded in interest the
one that had just been related. On the genie signifying his assent, the
old man began.
THE HISTORY OF THE SECOND OLD MAN AND THE TWO BLACK DOGS
Great Prince of the genies, you must know that these two black dogs,
which you see here, and myself, are three brothers. Our father, when he
died, left us one thousand sequins each. With this sum we all embarked in
business as merchants. My two brothers determined to travel, that they
might trade in foreign parts. They were both unfortunate, and returned at
the end of two years in a state of abject poverty, having lost their all.[32]
I had in the meanwhile prospered. I gladly received them, and gave them
one thousand sequins each, and again set them up as merchants.
My brothers frequently proposed to me that I should make a voyage with
them for the purpose of traffic. Knowing their former want of success, I
refused to join them, until at the end of five years I at length yielded
to their repeated solicitations. On consulting on the merchandise to be
bought for the voyage, I discovered that nothing remained of the thousand
sequins I had given to each. I did not reproach them; on the contrary, as
my capital was increased to six thousand sequins, I gave them each one
thousand sequins, and kept a like sum myself, concealing the other three
thousand in a corner of my house, in order that if our voyage proved
unsuccessful we might be able to console ourselves and begin our former
profession.
We purchased our goods, embarked in a vessel, which we ourselves
freighted, and set sail with a favorable wind. After sailing about a
month, we arrived, without any accident, at a port, where we landed, and
had a most advantageous sale for our merchandise. I, in particular, sold
mine so well that I gained ten for one.
About the time that we were ready to embark on our return, I
accidentally met on the seashore a female of great beauty, but very poorly
dressed. She accosted me by kissing my hand, and entreated me most
earnestly to permit her to be my wife. I stated many difficulties to such
a plan; but at length she said so much to persuade me that I ought not to
regard her poverty, and that I should be well satisfied with her conduct,
I was quite overcome. I directly procured proper dresses for[33]
her, and after marrying her in due form, she embarked with me, and we set
sail.
During our voyage I found my wife possessed of so many good qualities
that I loved her every day more and more. In the meantime my two brothers,
who had not traded so advantageously as myself, and who were jealous of my
prosperity, began to feel exceedingly envious. They even went so far as to
conspire against my life; for one night, while my wife and I were asleep,
they threw us into the sea. I had hardly, however, fallen into the water,
before my wife took me up and transported me to an island. As soon as it
was day she thus addressed me:
"You must know that I am a fairy, and being upon the shore when
you were about to sail, I wished to try the goodness of your heart, and
for this purpose I presented myself before you in the disguise you saw.
You acted most generously, and I am therefore delighted in finding an
occasion of showing my gratitude, and I trust, my husband, that in saving
your life I have not ill rewarded the good you have done me. But I am
enraged against your brothers, nor shall I be satisfied till I have taken
their lives."
I listened with astonishment to the discourse of the fairy, and thanked
her, as well as I was able, for the great obligation she had conferred on
me.
"But, madam," said I to her, "I must entreat you to
pardon my brothers."
I related to her what I had done for each of them, but my account only
increased her anger.
"I must instantly fly after these ungrateful wretches," cried
she, "and bring them to a just punishment; I will[34]
sink their vessel, and precipitate them to the bottom of the sea."
"No, beautiful lady," replied I, "for heaven's sake
moderate your indignation, and do not execute so dreadful an intention;
remember, they are still my brothers, and that we are bound to return good
for evil."
No sooner had I pronounced these words, than I was transported in an
instant from the island, where we were, to the top of my own house. I
descended, opened the doors, and dug up the three thousand sequins which I
had hidden. I afterward repaired to my shop, opened it, and received the
congratulations of the merchants in the neighborhood on my arrival. When I
returned home I perceived these two black dogs, which came toward me with
a submissive air. I could not imagine what this meant, but the fairy, who
soon appeared, satisfied my curiosity.
"My dear husband," said she, "be not surprised at seeing
these two dogs in your house; they are your brothers."
My blood ran cold on hearing this, and I inquired by what power they
had been transformed into that state.
"It is I," replied the fairy, "who have done it, and I
have sunk their ship; for the loss of the merchandise it contained I shall
recompense you. As to your brothers, I have condemned them to remain under
this form for ten years, as a punishment for their perfidy."
Then informing me where I might hear of her, she disappeared.
The ten years are now completed, and I am traveling in search of her.
This, O Lord Genie, is my history;[35]
does it not appear to you of a most extraordinary nature?
"Yes," replied the genie, "I confess it is most
wonderful, and therefore I grant you the other half of this merchant's
blood," and having said this, the genie disappeared, to the great joy
of the merchant and of the two old men.
The merchant did not omit to bestow many thanks upon his liberators,
who, bidding him adieu, proceeded on their travels. He remounted his
horse, returned home to his wife and children, and spent the remainder of
his days with them in tranquillity.
[36]
THE
THREE CALENDERS, SONS OF KINGS, AND THE FIVE LADIES OF BAGDAD
In the reign of Caliph Haroun al Raschid there was at Bagdad a porter,
who was a fellow of infinite wit and humor. One morning as he was at the
place where he usually waited for employment, with a great basket before
him, a handsome lady, covered with a great muslin veil, accosted him, and
said with a pleasant air, "Hark you, porter, take your basket[9]
and follow me."
The delighted porter took his basket immediately, set it on his head,
and followed the lady, exclaiming, "Oh, happy day! Oh, day of good
luck!"
In a short time the lady stopped before a gate and knocked: a
Christian, with a venerable long white beard, opened it, and she put money
into his hand without speaking; but the Christian, who knew what she
wanted, went in, and shortly after brought out a large jar of excellent
wine.
"Take this jar," said the lady to the porter, "and put
it into the basket."
This being done, she desired him to follow her, and walked on; the
porter still exclaiming, "Oh, day of happiness! Oh, day of agreeable
surprise and joy!"
The lady stopped at a fruit shop, where she bought some apples,
apricots, peaches, lemons, citrons, oranges, myrtles, sweet basil, lilies,
jassamine, and some other plants. She told the porter to put all those
things into [37]his
basket and follow her. Passing by a butcher's shop, she ordered five and
twenty pounds of his finest meat to be weighed, which was also put into
the porter's basket.
At another shop she bought capers, small cucumbers, parsley, and other
herbs; at another, some pistachios, walnuts, hazelnuts, almonds, kernels
of the pine, and other similar fruits; at a third, she purchased all sorts
of almond patties.
The porter, in putting all these things into his basket, said, "My
good lady, you should have told me that you intended buying so many
things, and I would have provided a camel to carry them, for if you buy
ever so little more, I shall not be able to bear it."
The lady laughed at the fellow's pleasant humor, and ordered him still
to follow her.
She then went to a druggist's, where she furnished herself with all
manner of sweet-scented waters, cloves, musk, pepper, ginger, and a great
piece of ambergris, and several other Indian spices; this quite filled the
porter's basket and she ordered him to follow her. They walked till they
came to a magnificent house, whose front was adorned with fine columns,
and had a gate of ivory. There they stopped, and the lady knocked softly.
Another lady soon came to open the gate, and all three, after passing
through a handsome vestibule, crossed a spacious court, surrounded by an
open gallery which communicated with many magnificent apartments, all on
the same floor. At the end of this court there was a dais richly
furnished, with a couch in the middle, supported by four columns of ebony,
enriched with diamonds and pearls of an extraordinary size, and[38]
covered with red satin, relieved by a bordering of Indian gold. In the
middle of the court there was a large basin lined with white marble, and
full of the finest transparent water, which rushed from the mouth of a
lion of gilt bronze.
But what principally attracted the attention of the porter, was a third
most beautiful lady, who was seated on the couch before mentioned. This
lady was called Zobeide, she who opened the door was called Safie, and the
name of the one who had been for the provisions was Amina. Then said
Zobeide, accosting the other two, "Sisters, do you not see that this
honest man is ready to sink under his burden? Why do you not ease him of
it?"
Then Amina and Safie took the basket, the one before and the other
behind; Zobeide also assisted, and all three together set it on the
ground, and then emptied it. When they had done, the beautiful Amina took
out money and paid the porter liberally.
The porter was well satisfied, but
when he ought to have departed he was chained to the spot by the pleasure
of beholding three such beauties, who appeared to him equally charming;
for Amina, having now laid aside her veil, proved to be as handsome as
either of the others. What surprised him most was that he saw no man about
the house, yet most of the provisions he had brought in, as the dry fruits
and the several sorts of cakes and confections, were adapted chiefly for
those who could drink and make merry.
"Madam," said he, addressing Zobeide, "I am sensible
that I act rudely in staying longer than I ought, but I hope you will have
the goodness to pardon me, when I[39]
tell you that I am astonished not to see a man with three ladies of such
extraordinary beauty; and you know that a company of women without men is
as melancholy as a company of men without women."
To this he added some pleasantries in proof of what he advanced; and
did not forget the Bagdad proverb, "That the table is not completely
furnished, except there be four in company"; so concluded, that since
they were but three, they wanted another.
The ladies fell a-laughing at the porter's reasoning; after which
Zobeide gravely addressed him, "Friend, you presume rather too much;
and though you do not deserve it, I have no objection to inform you that
we are three sisters, who transact our affairs with so much secrecy that
no one knows anything of them. A good author says, 'Keep thy own secret,
and do not reveal it to any one. He that maketh his secret known is no
longer its master. If thy own breast cannot keep thy counsel, how canst
thou expect the breast of another to be more faithful?'"
"Permit me, I entreat thee, to say, that I also have read in
another a maxim, which I have always happily practiced: 'Conceal thy
secret,' he says, 'only from such as are known to be indiscreet, and who
will abuse thy confidence; but make no difficulty in discovering it to
prudent men, because they know how to keep it.' The secret, then, with me,
is as safe as if locked up in a cabinet, the key of which is lost and the
door sealed."
The porter, notwithstanding his rhetoric, must, in all probability,
have retired in confusion if Amina had not taken his part, and said to
Zobeide and Safie, "My dear sisters, I conjure you to let him remain;
he will[40]
afford us some diversion. Were I to repeat to you all the amusing things
he addressed to me by the way, you would not feel surprised at my taking
his part."
He was chained to the spot by the pleasure of
beholding three such beauties. Page 38
At these words of Amina the porter fell on his knees, kissed the ground
at her feet, and raising himself up, said, "Most beautiful lady, you
began my good fortune to-day, and now you complete it by this generous
conduct. I cannot adequately express my acknowledgments. As to the rest,
ladies," said he, addressing himself to all the three sisters,
"since you do me so great an honor, I shall always look upon myself
as one of your most humble slaves."
When he had spoken these words he would have returned the money he had
received, but Zobeide ordered him to keep it.
"What we have once given," said she, "we never take
back. We are willing, too, to allow you to stay on one condition, that you
keep secret and do not ask the reason for anything you may see us do. To
show you," said Zobeide, with a serious countenance, "that what
we demand of you is not a new thing among us, read what is written over
our gate on the inside."
The porter read these words, written in large characters of gold:
"He who speaks of things that do not concern him, shall hear things
that will not please him."
"Ladies," said he, "I swear to you that you shall never
hear me utter a word respecting what does not relate to me, or wherein you
may have any concern."
These preliminaries being settled, Amina brought in supper, and after
she had lighted up the room with tapers made of aloewood and ambergris,
which yield a most agreeable perfume as well as a delicate light, [41]she
sat down with her sisters and the porter. They began again to eat and
drink, to sing, and repeat verses. The ladies diverted themselves by
intoxicating the porter, under pretext of making him drink their healths,
and the repast was enlivened by reciprocal sallies of wit. When they were
all as merry as possible, they suddenly heard a knocking at the gate.
Safie, whose office it was, went to the porch, and quickly returning,
told them thus: "There are three calenders[10]
at the door, all blind of the right eye, and have their heads, beards, and
eyebrows shaved. They say that they are only just arrived at Bagdad, where
they have never been before; and, as it is dark, and they know not where
to lodge, they knocked at our door by chance and pray us to show
compassion, and to take them in. They care not where we put them, provided
they obtain shelter. They are young and handsome; but I cannot, without
laughing, think of their amusing and exact likeness to each other. My dear
sisters, pray permit them to come in; they will afford us diversion
enough, and put us to little charge, because they desire shelter only for
this night, and resolve to leave us as soon as day appears."
"Go, then," said Zobeide, "and bring them in, but make
them read what is written over the gate." Safie ran out with joy, and
in a little time after returned with the three calenders.
At their entrance they made a profound obeisance to the ladies, who
rose up to receive them and told them [42]courteously
that they were welcome, that they were glad of the opportunity to oblige
them and to contribute toward relieving the fatigues of their journey, and
at last invited them to sit down with them.
The magnificence of the place, and the civility they received, inspired
the calenders with high respect for the ladies; but before they sat down,
having by chance cast their eyes upon the porter, whom they saw clad
almost like those devotees with whom they have continual disputes
respecting several points of discipline, because they never shave their
beards nor eyebrows,[11]
one of them said, "I believe we have got here one of our revolted
Arabian brethren."
The porter, having his head warm with wine, took offense at these
words, and with a fierce look, without stirring from his place, answered,
"Sit you down, and do not meddle with what does not concern you. Have
you not read the inscription over the gate? Do not pretend to make people
live after your fashion, but follow ours."
"Honest man," said the calender, "do not put yourself in
a passion. We should be sorry to give you the least occasion. On the
contrary, we are ready to receive your commands." Upon which, to put
an end to the dispute, the ladies interposed, and pacified them. When the
calenders were seated, the ladies served them with meat; and Safie, being
highly pleased with them, did not let them want for wine.
[43]
When the calenders had finished their repast, they signified to the
ladies that they wished to entertain them with a concert of music, if they
had any instruments in the house, and would cause them to be brought. The
ladies willingly accepted the proposal, and Safie went to fetch the
instruments. Each man took the instrument he liked, and all three together
began to play a tune. The ladies, who knew the words of a merry song that
suited the air, joined the concert with their voices; but the words of the
song made them now and then stop, and fall into excessive laughter. While
their amusement was at its height, there was a knock of unwonted loudness
at their gate.
Now, it was the custom of the sultan Haroun al Raschid sometimes during
the night to go through the city in disguise, in order to discover whether
everything was quiet. On this evening he set out from his palace
accompanied by Giafar, his grand vizier, and Mesrour, chief of the
household, all three disguised as merchants. He it was, who, in passing
through the street, was attracted by the noise of the music and of the
peals of loud laughter, and had desired his grand vizier to knock at the
gate, and to demand shelter and admittance as for three strangers who knew
not where to seek shelter for the night. Safie, who had opened the door,
came back and obtained permission of her sisters to admit the newly
arrived strangers.
The caliph and his attendants, upon their entrance, most courteously
made obeisance to the ladies and to the calenders. The ladies returned
their salutations, supposing them to be merchants. Zobeide, as the chief,
addressed them with a grave and serious countenance[44]
and said, "You are welcome. But while you are here you must have eyes
but no tongues; you must not ask the reason of anything you may see, nor
speak of anything that does not concern you, lest you hear and see what
will by no means please you."
"Madam," replied the vizier, "you shall be obeyed. It is
enough for us to attend to our own business, without meddling with what
does not concern us." After this, each seated himself, and the
conversation became general, and they drank to the health of the new
guests.
While the vizier Giafar entertained them, the caliph ceased not from
admiring the beauty, elegance, and lively disposition of the ladies; while
the appearance of the three calenders, all blind of the right eye,
surprised him very much. He anxiously wished to learn the cause of this
singularity, but the conditions they had imposed upon him and his
companions prevented any inquiry. Besides all this, when he reflected upon
the richness of the services and furniture, with the regularity and
arrangement everywhere apparent, he could hardly persuade himself it was
not the effect of enchantment.
The guests continued their conversation, when, after an interval,
Zobeide rose up, and taking Amina by the hand, said to her, "Come,
sister, the company shall not prevent us from doing as we have always been
accustomed."
Amina, who perfectly understood what her sister meant, got up, and took
away the dishes, tables, bottles, glasses, and also the instruments on
which the calenders had played. Nor did Safie remain idle; she snuffed the
candles, and added more aloewood and ambergris. Having done this, she
requested the three calenders to[45]
sit on a sofa on one side, and the caliph and his company on the other.
"Get up," said she then to the porter, looking at him,
"and be ready to assist in whatever we want of you."
A little while after, Amina came in with a sort of seat, which she
placed in the middle of the room. She then went to the door of a closet,
and having opened it, she made a sign to the porter to approach.
"Come and assist me," she cried. He did so, and went in with
her, and returned a moment after, followed by two black dogs, each of them
secured by a collar and chain. They appeared as if they had been severely
whipped with rods, and he brought them into the middle of the apartment.
Zobeide, rising from her seat between the calenders and the caliph,
moved very gravely toward the porter.
"Come," said she, heaving a deep sigh, "let us perform
our duty."
She then tucked up her sleeves above her elbows, and receiving a rod
from Safie, "Porter," said she, "deliver one of the dogs to
my sister Amina, and bring the other to me."
The porter did as he was commanded. Upon this, the dog that he held in
his hand began to howl, and, turning toward Zobeide, held her head up in a
supplicating posture; but Zobeide, having no regard to the sad countenance
of the animal, which would have moved any one else to pity, nor to its
cries that resounded through the house, whipped her with the rod till she
was out of breath; and having spent her strength, threw down the rod, and
taking the chain from the porter, lifted up the dog by her paws, and
looking upon her with[46]
a sad and pitiful countenance, they both wept. After this Zobeide, with
her handkerchief, wiped the tears from the dog's eyes, kissed her,
returned the chain to the porter, and desired him to carry the dog to the
place whence he took her, and to bring the other. Then taking the whip,
she served this in the same manner; she then wept with it, dried its
tears, kissed it, and returned it to the porter.
The three calenders, with the caliph and his companions, were extremely
surprised at this exhibition, and could not comprehend why Zobeide, after
having so furiously beaten those two dogs, that by the Mussulman religion
are reckoned unclean[12]
animals, should weep with them, wipe off their tears, and kiss them. They
muttered among themselves; and the caliph, who, being more impatient than
the rest, longed exceedingly to be informed of the cause of so strange a
proceeding, could not forbear making signs to the vizier to ask the
question. The vizier turned his head another way; but being pressed by
repeated signs, he answered by others, that it was not yet time for the
caliph to satisfy his curiosity.
Zobeide sat still some time in the middle of the room, where she had
whipped the two dogs, to recover herself of her fatigue; and Safie called
to her, "Dear sister, will you not be pleased to return to your
place, that I may also act my part?"
"Yes, sister," replied Zobeide, and then went and [47]sat
down upon the sofa, having the caliph, Giafar, and Mesrour on her right
hand, and the three calenders, with the porter, on her left.
The whole company remained silent for some time. At last Safie, sitting
on a chair in the middle of the room, spoke to her sister Amina:
"Dear sister, I conjure you to rise; you know what I would say."
Amina rose, and went into another closet near to that where the dogs were,
and brought out a case covered with yellow satin, richly embroidered with
gold and green silk. She went toward Safie and opened the case, from
whence she took a lute, and presented it to her; and after some time spent
in tuning it, Safie began to play, and, accompanying the instrument with
her voice, sang a song about the torments that absence creates to lovers.
Having sung with much passion and action, she said to Amina, "Pray
take it, sister, for my voice fails me; oblige the company with a tune and
a song in my stead."
"Very willingly," replied Amina, who, taking the lute from
her sister Safie, sat down in her place. Having sung most delightfully,
the caliph expressed his admiration. While he was doing so, Amina fainted
away; and on opening her robe to give her air, they discovered that her
breast was covered with fearful scars.
While Zobeide and Safie ran to assist their sister, the caliph inquired
of the calender, "Cannot you inform me about these two black dogs,
and this lady, who appears to have been so ill-treated?"
"Sir," said the calender, "we never were in this house
before now, and entered it only a few minutes sooner than you did."
This increased the astonishment of the caliph.[48]
"Perhaps," said he, "the man who is with you can give you
some information?"
The calender made signs to the porter to draw near, and asked him if he
knew why the black dogs had been beaten, and why the bosom of Amina was so
scarred.
"Sir," replied the porter, "if you know nothing of the
matter, I know as little as you do. I never was in the house until now;
and if you are surprised to see me here, I am as much so to find myself in
your company."
The caliph, more and more perplexed at all he heard, determined that he
would have the information he required for the explaining these mysterious
proceedings. But the question was, who should first make the inquiry? The
caliph endeavored to persuade the calenders to speak first, but they
excused themselves. At last they all agreed that the porter should be the
man.
While they were consulting how to put the question, Zobeide herself, as
Amina had recovered from her fainting, approached them, and inquired,
"What are you talking of? What is your contest about?"
The porter then addressed her as follows: "These gentlemen, madam,
entreat you to explain why you wept with those dogs, after having treated
them so ill, and how it has happened that the lady who fainted has her
bosom covered with scars."
At these words Zobeide put on a stern look, and turning toward the
caliph and the rest of the company: "Is it true, gentlemen,"
said she, "that you desired him to ask me these questions?"
All of them, except the vizier Giafar, who spoke not a word, answered
"Yes." She thereupon exclaimed, in a tone of resentment:
"Before we granted you the[49]
favor of receiving you into our house, and to prevent all occasion of
inquiry from you, we imposed the condition that you should not speak of
anything that did not concern you, lest you might hear that which would
not please you; and yet, after having received our entertainment, you make
no scruple to break your promise. Our easy compliance with your wishes may
have occasioned this, but that shall not excuse your rudeness."
As she spoke these words, she gave three stamps with her foot, and
clapping[13]
her hands as often together, cried, "Come quickly!"
Upon this a door flew open, and seven black slaves[14]
rushed in; each one seized a man, threw him to the ground, and dragged him
into the middle of the room, brandishing a scimitar over his head.
We can easily conceive the alarm of the caliph. He repented, but too
late, that he had not taken the advice of his vizier, who, with Mesrour,
the calenders, and porter, were, from his ill-timed curiosity, on the
point of forfeiting their lives.
Before they gave the fatal stroke, one of the slaves said to Zobeide
and her sisters, "Would it not be right to interrogate them
first?" On which Zobeide, with a grave voice, said: "Answer me,
and say who you are, otherwise you shall not live one moment longer. I
cannot believe you to be honest men, or persons of authority or
distinction in your own countries; for, if you were, you would have been
more modest and more respectful to us."
The caliph, naturally warm, was infinitely more [50]indignant
than the rest, to find his life depending upon the command of a woman: but
he began to conceive some hopes, when he found she wished to know who they
all were; for he imagined that she would by no means take away his life
when she should be informed of his rank. He whispered to his vizier, who
was near him, instantly to declare who he was. But this wise vizier, being
more prudent, resolved to save his master's honor, and not let the world
know the affront he had brought upon himself by his own imprudence; and
therefore answered, "We have what we deserve."
But if he had intended to speak as the caliph commanded him, Zobeide
would not have allowed him time: for having turned to the calenders, and
seeing them all blind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers.
One of them answered, "No, madam, no otherwise than as we are
calenders; that is to say, as we observe the same rules."
"Were you born blind of the right eye?" continued she.
"No, madam," answered he; "I lost my eye in such a
surprising adventure, that it would be instructive to every one to hear
it."
Zobeide put the same question to the others in their turn, when the
last she addressed replied, "Pray, madam, show some pity on us, for
we are all the sons of kings. Although we have never seen each other
before this evening, we have had sufficient time to become acquainted with
this circumstance; and I can assure you that the kings who have given us
birth have made some noise in the world!"[51]
During this speech Zobeide became less angry, and said to the slaves,
"Give them their liberty a while, but remain where you are. Those who
tell us their history, and the occasion of their coming, do them not hurt,
let them go where they please; but do not spare those who refuse to give
us that satisfaction."
The three calenders, the caliph, the grand vizier Giafar, the captain
of his guards, and the porter were all in the middle of the hall, seated
upon a carpet in the presence of the three ladies, who reclined upon a
sofa, and the slaves stood ready to do whatever their mistresses should
command.
The porter spoke first, and briefly related the adventures of the
morning with Amina, and the kind favors to him of herself and her fair
sisters in the evening, which he declared to be the whole of his history.
When the porter had concluded, Zobeide said, "Save thyself and
begone, nor ever let us see thee again."
"I beg of you, madam," replied he, "to let me remain a
little longer. It would be unfair that I should not hear their histories,
after they have had the pleasure of hearing mine."
Saying this, he took his place at the end of the sofa, truly delighted
at finding himself free from the danger which so much alarmed him.
One of the calenders, addressing himself to Zobeide, next spoke.
THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST CALENDER
Madam, I am the son of a sultan. My father had a brother, who reigned
over a neighboring kingdom.[52]
His son, my cousin, and I were nearly of the same age. I went regularly
every year to see my uncle, at whose court I amused myself for a month or
two, and then returned home.
On one occasion I arrived at my father's capital, where, contrary to
custom, I found a numerous guard at the gate of the palace. They
surrounded me as I entered. The commanding officer said, "Prince, the
army has proclaimed the grand vizier sultan, instead of your father, who
is dead, and I take you prisoner in the name of the new sultan."
This rebel vizier had long entertained a mortal hatred toward me. When
I was a boy I loved to shoot with a crossbow. Being one day upon the
terrace of the palace, and a bird happening to come by, I shot but missed
him, and the ball by misfortune hit the vizier, who was taking the air
upon the terrace of his own house, and put out one of his eyes. He never
forgave me, and, as opportunity offered, made me sensible of his
resentment. But now that he had me in his power he came to me like a
madman, and thrusting his finger into my right eye, pulled it out, and
thus I became blind of one eye.
His cruelty did not stop here; he commanded the executioner to cut off
my head, and leave me to be devoured by birds of prey. The executioner
conveyed me to the place of execution to complete this barbarous sentence,
but by my prayers and tears, I moved the man's compassion: "Go,"
said he to me, "get you speedily out of the kingdom, and never
return, or you will destroy yourself and me."
I thanked him, and as soon as I was left alone,[53]
comforted myself for the loss of my eye by considering that I had very
narrowly escaped a much greater evil.
Being thus surrounded with sorrows and persecuted by fortune, I had
recourse to a stratagem, which was the only means left me to save my life:
I caused my beard and eyebrows to be shaved, and putting on a calender's
habit, I passed, unknown by any, out of the city. I avoided the towns till
I arrived in the empire of the commander of the faithful, the renowned
caliph Haroun al Raschid, when I ceased to fear. I resolved to come to
Bagdad and throw myself at the feet of this great monarch. I shall move
him to compassion, said I to myself, by the relation of my uncommon
misfortunes, and without doubt he will take pity on a persecuted prince,
and not suffer me to implore his assistance in vain.
In short, after a journey of several months, I arrived to-day at the
gate of this city, into which I entered at dusk: and as I entered, another
calender came up. He saluted me, and I him.
"You appear," said I, "to be a stranger, as I am."
"You are not mistaken," replied he.
He had no sooner returned this answer, than a third calender overtook
us. He saluted us, and told us he was a stranger newly come to Bagdad; so
that as brethren we joined together, resolving not to separate from one
another.
It was now late, and we knew not where to seek a lodging in the city,
where we had never been before. But good fortune having brought us to your
gate, we made bold to knock, when you received us with so much kindness
that we are incapable of rendering suitable thanks. This, madam, is, in
obedience to your commands, the[54]
account I was to give how I lost my right eye, wherefore my beard and
eyebrows are shaved, and how I came to be with you at this time.
"It is enough," said Zobeide; "you may retire to what
place you think fit."
The calender begged the ladies' permission to stay till he had heard
the relations of his two comrades, "whom I cannot," said he,
"leave with honor"; and that he might also hear those of the
three other persons in company.
The history of the first calender appeared very surprising to the whole
company, and particularly to the caliph. The presence of the slaves, armed
with their scimitars, did not prevent him from saying in a whisper to the
vizier, "As long as I can remember, I never heard anything to compare
with this history of the calender, though I have been all my life in the
habit of hearing similar narratives."
He had no sooner finished than the second calender began, and
addressing himself to Zobeide, spoke as follows:
THE HISTORY OF THE SECOND CALENDER
Madam, to obey your commands, and to show you by what strange accident
I became blind of the right eye, I must give you the account of my life. I
was yet a youth when the sultan, my father (for you must know I am a
prince by birth), perceived that I was endowed with good natural ability,
and spared nothing proper for improving it. No sooner was I able to read
and[55]
write than I learned the Koran from beginning to end by heart, all the
traditions collected from the mouth of our prophet, and the works of
poets. I applied myself to geography, chronology, and to speak the Arabian
language in its purity; not forgetting in the meantime all such exercises
as were proper for a prince to understand. But one thing which I was fond
of, and succeeded in, was penmanship. In this I surpassed all the
celebrated scribes of our kingdom.
The fame of my learning reached the Emperor of Hindustan, who sent an
embassy with rich presents to my father and invited me to his court. I
returned with the ambassador.
We had been about a month on our journey when we saw in the distance an
immense cloud of dust, and soon after we discovered fifty fierce horsemen,
sons of the desert, well armed.
Not being able to repel force by force, we told them we were the
ambassadors of the sultan of India; but the sons of the desert insolently
answered, "Why do you wish us to respect the sultan, your master? We
are not his subjects, nor even within his realm." They attacked us on
all sides.
I defended myself as long as I could, but finding that I was wounded,
and that the ambassador and all our attendants were overthrown, I took
advantage of the remaining strength of my horse, and escaped. My horse was
wounded and suddenly fell dead under me. Alone, wounded, and a stranger, I
bound up my own wound and walked on the rest of the day, and arrived at
the foot of a mountain, where I perceived, as the sun set, a cave; I went
in, and stayed there that night,[56]
after I had eaten some fruits that I gathered by the way. I continued my
journey for several successive days without finding any place of abode;
but after a month's time I came to a large town, well inhabited. It was
surrounded by several streams, so that it seemed to enjoy perpetual
spring.
My face, hands, and feet were black and sunburnt; and by my long
journey, my boots were quite worn out, so that I was forced to walk
barefooted; and my clothes were all in rags. I entered the town to inform
myself where I was, and addressed myself to a tailor that was at work in
his shop. He made me sit down by him, and asked me who I was, from whence
I came, and what had brought me thither. I did not conceal anything that
had befallen me, nor made I any scruple to reveal to him my rank. The
tailor listened to me with attention; then he brought me something to eat,
and offered me an apartment at his house, which I accepted.
Some days after my arrival the tailor asked me if I knew anything by
which I could acquire a livelihood. I told him that I was well versed in
the science of laws, both human and divine; that I was a grammarian, a
poet, and, above all, that I wrote remarkably well.
"None of these things will avail you here. If you will follow my
advice," he added, "you will procure a short jacket, and as you
are strong and in good health, you may go into the neighboring forest and
cut wood for fuel. You may then go and expose it for sale in the market.
By these means you will be enabled to wait till the cloud which hangs over
you, and obliges you to conceal your birth, shall have blown over. I will
furnish you with a cord and hatchet."[57]
The next day the tailor brought me a rope, a hatchet, and a short
jacket, and recommended me to some poor people who gained their bread
after the same manner, that they might take me into their company. They
conducted me to the wood, and the first day I brought in as much upon my
head as procured me half a piece of gold of the money of that country; for
though the wood was not far distant from the town, yet it was very scarce,
by reason that few would be at the trouble of fetching it for themselves.
I gained a good sum of money in a short time, and repaid my tailor what he
had loaned me.
I continued this way of living for a whole year. One day, having by
chance penetrated farther into the wood than usual, I happened to light on
a pleasant spot, where I began to cut. In pulling up the root of a tree I
espied an iron ring, fastened to a trap door of the same metal. I took
away the earth that covered it, and having lifted it up, discovered a
flight of stairs, which I descended with my ax in my hand.
When I had reached the bottom I found myself in a palace, which was as
well lighted as if it had been above ground in the open air. I was going
forward along a gallery supported by pillars of jasper, the base and
capitals being of massy gold, when I saw a lady of a noble and graceful
air, and extremely beautiful, coming toward me.
I hastened to meet her; and as I was making a low obeisance she asked
me, "Are you a man, or a genie?"
"A man, madam," said I.
"By what adventure," said she, fetching a deep sigh,
"are you come hither? I have lived here for[58]
twenty-five years, and you are the first man I have beheld in that
time."
Her great beauty, and the sweetness and civility wherewith she received
me, emboldened me to say, "Madam, before I satisfy your curiosity,
give me leave to say that I am infinitely gratified with this unexpected
meeting, which offers me an occasion of consolation in the midst of my
affliction; and perhaps it may give me an opportunity of making you also
more happy than you are."
I then related my story to her from beginning to end.
"Alas! prince," she replied, sighing, "the most
enchanting spots cannot afford delight when we are there against our will.
But hear now my history. I am a princess, the daughter of a sultan, the
king of the Ebony Island, to which the precious wood found in it has given
its name.
"The king, my father, had chosen for my husband a prince, who was
my cousin; but on the very night of the bridal festivities, in the midst
of the rejoicings of the court, a genie took me away. I fainted with
alarm, and when I recovered I found myself in this place. I was long
inconsolable; but time and necessity have reconciled me to see the genie.
Twenty-five years I have passed in this place, in which I have everything
necessary for life and splendor.
"Every ten days," continued the princess, "the genie
visits me. In the meantime, if I have any occasion for him, I have only to
touch a talisman, and he appears. It is now four days since he was here,
and I have therefore to wait six days more before he again makes his[59]
appearance. You, therefore, may remain five with me, if it be agreeable to
you, in order to keep me company; and I will endeavor to regale and
entertain you equal to your merit and dignity."
The princess then conducted me to a bath, the most commodious, and the
most sumptuous imaginable; and when I came forth, instead of my own
clothes I found a costly robe, which I did not esteem so much for its
richness as because it made me appear worthy to be in her company. We sat
down on a sofa covered with rich tapestry, with cushions of the rarest
Indian brocade; and some time after she covered a table with several
dishes of delicate meats. We ate, and passed the remaining part of the
day, as also the evening, together very pleasantly.
The next day I said to her, "Fair princess, you have been too long
buried alive in this subterranean palace; pray rise—follow me and enjoy
the light of day, of which you have been deprived so many years."
"Prince," replied she, with a smile, "if you out of ten
days will grant me nine, and resign the tenth to the genie, the light of
day would be nothing to me."
"Princess," said I, "the fear of the genie makes you
speak thus. For my part |
