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 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 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 anothe
r 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,
"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 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
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.
"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 o
n 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