Aladdin and Other Tales from the Arabian Nights
PUFFIN CLASSICS
ALADDIN AND OTHER TALES FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
The Tales from the Arabian Nights (also known as The Thousand and One Nights) have been popular in the West ever since they were first introduced at the beginning of the eighteenth century. There have been many different versions in print, pantomime and on film, but here they are retold directly from the authentic Arabic sources.
Collected together in this edition are some of the best-known stories, such as Aladdin and The Ebony Horse, as well as the lesser-known Khalifah the Fisherman and The Dream. The stories, which originate from Persia, India and Arabia, were the daily entertainment of ordinary people. In this edition they are presented in a way that is straightforward but not over-simplified, so that they are as fresh and as vivid as they were when first told over a thousand years ago.
Born in Baghdad, N. J. DA WOOD went to England as an Iraq State Scholar in 1945 and graduated from London University. In 1959 he founded the Arabic Advertising and Publishing Company, London, which is now one of the major centres for Arabic typesetting outside the Middle East. He translated The Koran and an unexpurgated collection of Tales from the Thousand and One Nights and edited and abridged The Muqaddimah of Ibn Khaldun. Mr Dawood has also translated numerous technical works into Arabic, written and spoken radio and film commentaries, and contributed to specialized English–Arabic dictionaries.
The illustrations are from the famous original engravings on wood made by William Harvey in 1839.
Some other Puffin Classics to enjoy
SINBAD THE SAILOR AND OTHER TALES
N.J. Dawood
THE WIZARD OF OZ
L. Frank Baum
ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
Lewis Carroll
THE CANTERBURY TALES
Geoffrey Chaucer
Retold by Geraldine McCaughrean
THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD TALES OF GREEK HEROES
Roger Lancelyn Green
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER AND OTHER CLASSIC STORIES IN VERSE
Roger Waterfield (Ed.)
THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER STORIES
Oscar Wilde
N. J. DAWOOD
Aladdin and Other Tales from the Arabian Nights
Retold from the Original Arabic
Engravings on wood from original designs by
WILLIAM HARVEY
PUFFIN BOOKS
To Juliet, Richard, Norman, and Andrew
This version follows Macnaghten’s Calcutta edition of The Thousand and One Nights (1839–42) but the first Bulaq edition (1835) has also been consulted wherever the Macnaghten text appeared faulty. ‘Aladdin and the Enchanted Lamp’ follows Zottenberg’s text (Paris, 1888).
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
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This translation first published in the USA by Doubleday & Company, Inc. 1978
Published in Puffin Books 1989
Reissued in this edition 1996
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This translation copyright © N. J. Dawood, 1978
All rights reserved
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 978-0-14-195231-4
CONTENTS
Prologue: The Tale of King Shahriyar and His Brother, Shahzaman
The Fable of the Donkey, the Ox, and the Farmer
The Fisherman and the Jinnee
The Tale of King Yunan and Duban the Doctor
The Tale of the King and the Falcon
The Tale of the Enchanted King
Aladdin and the Enchanted Lamp
The Donkey
The Tale of Khalifah the Fisherman
The Dream
The Ebony Horse
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
THE TALE OF KING SHAHRIYAR AND HIS BROTHER, SHAHZAMAN
Once upon a time, there ruled over India and China a mighty King, who commanded great armies and had numerous courtiers, followers, and servants. He left two sons, both famed for their horsemanship – especially the elder, who inherited his father’s kingdom and governed it with such justice that all his subjects loved him. He was called King Shahriyar. His brother was named Shahzaman and was King of Samarkand.
The two brothers continued to reign happily in their kingdoms, and after twenty years King Shahriyar longed to see Shahzaman. He ordered his vizier to go to Samarkand and invite Shahzaman to his court.
The vizier set out promptly on his errand and journeyed many days and nights through deserts and wildernesses until he arrived in Shahzaman’s city and was admitted to his presence. He gave him King Shahriyar’s greetings and told him of his master’s wish to see him. King Shahzaman was overjoyed at the thought of visiting his brother. He made ready to leave his kingdom, and sent out his tents, camels, mules, servants, and retainers. Then he appointed his vizier as his deputy and set out for his brother’s dominions.
At midnight, however, he suddenly remembered a present which he wished to give his brother but which he had left at the palace. He returned alone to fetch it. Entering his private chamber, he was outraged to find his beautiful queen, whose affection he had never doubted, entertaining a palace slave.
‘If this can happen when I am scarcely out of my city,’ he thought, ‘what will this wicked woman do when I am far away?’
He drew his sword and slew them both. Then he rejoined his courtiers and journeyed on until he reached his brother’s capital.
Shahriyar rejoiced at his coming. He went out to meet Shahzaman, took him in his arms, and welcomed him affectionately. But as they sat chatting, he noticed that Shahzaman, who was brooding over his wife’s disloyalty, looked pale and sullen. Shahriyar said nothing about this, thinking that his brother might be worrying over the affairs of the kingdom he had left behind. Day after day Shahriyar tried to distract him, but all to no avail. At last he invited him to go hunting, hoping that the sport might cheer his spirits, but Shahzaman refused, and Shahriyar had to go to the hunt alone.
Meanwhile, Shahzaman sat at a window overlooking the royal garden, and saw one of the palace doors open and twenty women and twenty slaves appear. In their midst was his brother’s Queen, a woman of rare beauty. They made their way to the fountain and sat down on the grass, each slave choosing a woman for his companion. Then the King’s wife called out, ‘Come, Masood!’ and a slave at once ran up to her and sat down beside her. There they all remained, feasting together, till nightfall.
‘By Allah,’ said Shahzaman to himself, ‘my misfortune was nothing beside this.’
He was no longer unhappy, but
ate and drank, being hungry after his long abstinence.
When Shahriyar returned from the hunt he was surprised to see his brother restored to health and good spirits.
‘How is it, brother,’ he asked, ‘that when I last saw you, you were so pale and sad, and now you look well and contented?’
‘As for my sadness,’ Shahzaman replied, ‘I will now tell you the reason. Know that after I had received your invitation I made preparations for the journey and set out from my capital; but I had forgotten the pearl that was my present for you, and went back to the palace for it. There in my room I found my wife in the company of a slave. I killed them both. Then I came on to your kingdom, though my mind was troubled with unhappy thoughts.’
When he heard this, Shahriyar was curious to know the rest of the story, upon which Shahzaman related to him all that he had seen that day from the window.
‘I will not believe it,’ Shahriyar exclaimed, ‘unless I see it with my own eyes!’
‘Then let it be known that you intend to hunt again,’ suggested his brother. ‘But hide with me here, and you will see what I saw.’
And so King Shahriyar announced his intention to set out on another expedition. Soldiers, with their tents, left the city, and Shahriyar followed them. As soon as they had encamped, he gave orders to his slaves that no one was to be admitted to the King’s tent. Then, disguising himself, he returned unnoticed to the palace, where his brother was waiting for him. They sat together at one of the windows overlooking the garden. It was not long before the Queen and her women appeared with the slaves and thus King Shahriyar saw that what his brother had told him was true.
Crazed with anger, he put his Queen to death, together with all her women and the slaves. And after that he made it his custom to marry a young girl every day and kill her the next morning. This he continued to do for three years, until an outcry arose among the people, and some of them left the country with their daughters.
At last a day came when the King’s vizier searched the city in vain for a wife for his master. Finding none, and dreading the King’s anger, he returned home with a heavy heart.
Now, the vizier himself had two daughters. The older was called Shahrazad, and the younger Dunyazad. Shahrazad was both beautiful and accomplished: she knew the works of poets and the legends of ancient kings.
Shahrazad noticed her father’s anxiety and asked what made him so sad. The vizier told her the reason. ‘Dear Father,’ she said, ‘give me in marriage to the King. Either I will die a martyr’s death, or I will live and save my countrymen’s daughters.’
Her proposal filled the vizier with horror. He warned her how dangerous it would be; but she had made up her mind and would not listen to his advice.
‘Beware,’ said the vizier, ‘of what happened in the fable of the donkey who did not mind his own business.’
THE FABLE OF THE DONKEY, THE OX, AND THE FARMER
There was once a rich farmer who owned many herds of cattle. He understood the language of beasts and birds. In one of his stables he kept an ox and a donkey. At the end of each day the ox came to where the donkey was tied and found the stall well swept and watered. The manger was plentifully supplied with straw and barley, and the donkey lying at his ease, for his master seldom rode him.
It happened one day that the farmer heard the ox say to the donkey, ‘How lucky you are! I am worn out with hard work, but you lie here in comfort. The corn you eat is well prepared and you lack nothing. Our master hardly ever rides you. But for me life is one long stretch of painful labor at the plow and the millstone.’
The donkey answered, ‘Let me advise you. When you go out into the field and the yoke is placed upon your neck, pretend to be ill and drop down on your belly. Do not rise even if they beat you; or, if you do rise, fall down again immediately. When they take you back to the stable and put fodder before you, do not eat it. For a day or two eat very little. If you act in this way you will be given a complete rest.’
Remember, the farmer overheard this.
So when the plowman brought his fodder, the ox ate hardly any of it. And when the plowman came the following morning to take him out into the field the ox appeared to be far from well. The farmer said, ‘Take the donkey and use him at the plow all day!’
The day’s work being finished, the donkey returned to the stable. The ox thanked him for his kind advice, but the donkey made no reply, bitterly repenting his rashness.
Next day the plowman took the donkey again and made him labor until the evening, so that he returned utterly exhausted, with his neck chafed by the rope. Again the ox thanked him and complimented him on his shrewdness.
‘I wish I had kept my wisdom to myself,’ thought the donkey.
Then an idea came to him.
Turning to the ox, he said, ‘I heard my master say to his servant just now, “If the ox does not recover soon, take him to the slaughterhouse and get rid of him.” My fear for your safety, dear friend, obliges me to make this known to you before it is too late.’
On hearing the donkey’s words, the ox thanked him and said, ‘Tomorrow I will work willingly.’ He ate all his fodder and even licked the manger clean.
Early the next morning the farmer went with his wife to visit the ox in the stable. At the sight of his master the ox swung his tail and frisked about in all directions to show how ready he was for the yoke. He was taken to work by the plowman. And so was the donkey.
‘Nothing will change my mind, Father,’ Shahrazad said at the end of the story. ‘I am resolved.’
So the vizier arrayed his daughter in bridal garments, decked her with jewels, and made ready to announce her wedding to the King.
When she said good-by to her sister, Shahrazad gave her these instructions: ‘After I have been received by the King I shall send for you. When you come, you must say, “Tell us, sister, some tale of marvel to pass the night.” Then I will tell you a tale which, if Allah wills, shall be the means of our deliverance.’
So the vizier went with his daughter to the King. And when the King had taken Shahrazad to his chamber she wept and said, ‘I have a young sister to whom I dearly wish to say a last farewell.’
The King sent for Dunyazad, who came and threw her arms around her sister’s neck and sat down beside her.
Then Dunyazad said to Shahrazad, ‘Tell us, sister, a tale of marvel so that the night may pass pleasantly.’
‘Gladly,’ she answered, ‘if the King permits me.’
The King, who was troubled with sleeplessness, gave her leave and eagerly listened to Shahrazad’s story:
THE FISHERMAN AND THE JINNEE
Once upon a time, there was a poor fisherman who had a wife and three children to support.
He used to cast his net four times a day. It chanced that one day he went down to the sea at noon and, reaching the shore, set down his basket, rolled up his sleeves, and cast his net far out into the water. After he had waited for some time, he pulled on the cords with all his strength, but the net was so heavy that he could not draw it in. So he tied the rope ends to a wooden stake on the beach, took off his clothes, dived into the water, and set to work to bring up the net. But when he had carried it ashore he found that it contained only a dead donkey. ‘What a strange catch!’ cried the fisherman, disgusted at the sight. He freed the net and wrung it out, then waded into the water and cast it again. On trying to draw it in, he found it even heavier than before. Thinking he had caught some enormous fish, he fastened the ropes to the stake, dived in again, and brought up the net. This time he found a large earthen vessel filled with mud and sand.
Angrily the fisherman threw away the vessel, cleaned his net, and cast it for the third time. He waited patiently and, when he felt the net grow heavy, pulled it in, only to find it full of bones and broken glass. In despair, he lifted up his arms and cried, ‘Heaven knows I cast my net only four times a day. I have already cast it for the third time and caught no fish at all. Surely Allah will not fail me again!’
So
saying, the fisherman hurled his net far out into the sea. This time his catch was an antique bottle made of copper. The mouth was stopped with lead and bore the seal of King Solomon, who was renowned for his great skill in magic and his power over spirits and demons. The fisherman rejoiced and said, ‘I will sell this in the market of the coppersmiths. It must be worth ten pieces of gold.’
Shaking the bottle, which he found rather heavy, he thought, ‘I must break the seal and see what there is inside.’
With his knife he removed the lead and again shook the bottle; but scarcely had he done so when there burst out from it a great column of smoke that spread along the shore and rose so high that it almost touched the heavens. Then the smoke took shape and formed itself into a jinnee of such colossal height that his head touched the clouds. His legs towered like the masts of a ship. His head was a huge dome and his mouth as wide as a cavern, with teeth ragged as broken rocks. His nostrils were two inverted bowls, and his eyes, blazing like torches, made his face terrible indeed to look upon.
The sight of the jinnee struck fear into the fisherman’s heart; his limbs trembled, his teeth chattered, his tongue dried, and his eyes bulged.
‘There is no god but Allah, and Solomon is his Prophet!’ cried the jinnee, taking the fisherman for the magician-king, his old master. ‘I beg you, mighty prophet, do not kill me! I swear never again to disobey you.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ the fisherman cried. ‘Solomon has been dead these eighteen hundred years, and we are now nearing the end of time. But what is your story, and how did you come to be imprisoned in this bottle?’
The jinnee seemed very pleased to hear that Solomon was dead. He burst out laughing, then said sarcastically, ‘Fisherman, rejoice. I bring you good news!’
‘What news?’
‘News of your death, horrible and instant!’ the jinnee answered.