A Hundred and One Nights

Bruce Fudge

• Editore: NYU Press
• Anno: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781479808526
• Argomento: Letteratura
• Categoria: Collezioni letterarie mediorientali

A luminous translation of Arabic tales of enchantment and wonder

Translated into English for the very first time, A Hundred and One Nights is a marvelous example of the rich tradition of popular Arabic storytelling. Like the celebrated Thousand and One Nights, this collection opens with the frame story of Scheherazade, the vizier’s gifted daughter who recounts imaginative tales night after night in an effort to distract the murderous king from taking her life. A Hundred and One Nights features an almost entirely different set of stories, however, each one more thrilling, amusing, and disturbing than the last. Here, we encounter tales of epic warriors, buried treasure, disappearing brides, cannibal demon-women, fatal shipwrecks, and clever ruses, where human strength and ingenuity play out against a backdrop of inexorable, inscrutable fate.

Distinctly rooted in Arabic literary culture and the Islamic tradition, these tales draw on motifs and story elements that circulated across cultures, including Indian and Chinese antecedents, and features a frame story possibly older than its more famous sibling. This vibrant translation of A Hundred and One Nights promises to transport readers, new and veteran alike, into its fantastical realms of magic and wonder.

A HUNDRED AND ONE NIGHTS

In the name of God, the Merciful and Compassionate,
God bless our lord Muḥammad and his family.

THE STORY OF A HUNDRED AND ONE NIGHTS

Shaykh Fihrās the Philosopher spoke: 1.1

A king named Dārim once heard about this book and sent for me. I came to his palace and enjoyed his hospitality. A month later he ordered me to appear before him.

“I want to ask you something,” he said to me.

“Ask whatever you wish,” I replied.

“Tell me about the Hundred and One Nights. Put the whole story, from beginning to end, in a book.”

“Of course,” I said.

I hear, Your Majesty—and God is Wise and All-Knowing of the unknown—that in India a just king would hold a magnificent annual festival which he would attend with his companions and men of state. He would command them to don their best garments and would provide them with food and drink. During the feasting and the drinking, the king would disappear briefly into his palace, and then appear before them in the finest raiment. He would sit on his throne and call for a great Indian mirror, mounted on an iron wheel. He would then contemplate his face in the mirror and ask the assembled company, “Do you know anyone more handsome than me?” 1.2

And they would say, “No, Your Majesty, we do not.”

This would please him greatly.

One time, he did as he was wont to do every year, when an elderly man of state came up to him and said, “Your Majesty, beware of being too self-satisfied, for I have traveled to the great cities and wandered through many countries, and, in the land of Babel, in the city of Khorasan,¹ I saw a youth, a merchant’s son, who was more handsome than you. His beauty is ravishing, his allure astonishing.” 1.3

“How can we bring him here?” the king asked, “If he is as you say, I’ll reward you handsomely, but if he is not, then by God I’ll make you pay!”

“Money and gifts are the only way to get him here,” said the old man.

“Then you shall have them,” the king replied.

So the old man took the goods and the gifts he required and had a great ship prepared, on which he and his companions set sail. The winds blew favorably for two whole months. They entered the port near the city of Khorasan, where the old man disembarked and unloaded all the treasures and money he had brought. He left one of his companions in charge of the ship, purchased animals to carry the goods and gifts from India, and headed for the city of Khorasan. Once there, he sought out the best merchant inn in the city and rented a charming, exquisite apartment. Here he unloaded all his goods and treasures and then he rested. 1.4

Three days later, he left the hotel and went to the shop of the Khorasanian merchant, the father of the handsome youth, in the market of the druggists and perfumers. He greeted him and took a seat.² The merchant’s son sat on a mattress of silk brocade, with a white turban on his head. He was just as the poet said: 1.5

Between his turban and his cheek there shines a light

As t’were a full moon in the red of early night.

When he comes and looks and smiles and mutters,

The limbs go weak and the heart, it flutters.

In the shop, the Indian showed the Khorasanian merchant some of the treasures he had brought.

The perfume merchant was astonished, for he had never seen anything like it in his own country. The Indian said, “Do you know, Abū Muḥammad, that the only reason I left India was to seek you out, because I had heard of your virtue, your friendship, and the excellence of your company?” 1.6

“May God bless you and may He assist us in treating you as you deserve,” said the Khorasanian. “I will look after everything for you; I will spare no effort in trading your goods, God willing.”

“May God reward you,” replied the Indian.

The perfume merchant summoned one of his slaves, and spoke to him in a language the old man did not understand, then he turned to the Indian and said, “My lord, perhaps you will oblige me and favor me by dining at my house. I think we are going to work well together and enjoy a long-lasting friendship!” The Indian agreed, and they left, accompanied by the youth.

When they arrived at the house, the youth knocked on the door and it was answered by a slave girl, slender as a willow branch³ or bamboo stalk. When she saw who it was, she kissed the ground, and her master said to her, “Have the women retire so that we may come in.” She went away briefly and then gave the all clear for them to enter. The house was beautiful and spacious inside. The salon they entered was furnished in brocade and expensive mats, fine felt carpets, and Persian pillows. A fresh breeze blew and the fabrics fluttered. There was a chair on the right and another on the left, both raised on legs of gold. They each took a seat. 1.7

The perfume merchant gave his son a silent signal, a wink with his eyes. He called for the slave girls, who laid before them all manner of delicious dishes to satisfy their every wish: bread, the flesh of beasts and birds, and other delicacies of Khorasan. The Indian enjoyed the charity and generosity of the Khorasanian merchant for three days. Then the merchant lodged him in a house directly across from his own, and provided him with the furnishings and utensils he required. He made the Indian his friend, swearing to eat and drink with him every day until they became like two souls in one body. It was then that the Indian turned to the Khorasanian and said, “I want to show you all the treasures I’ve brought with me from India and beyond!” 1.8

The Khorasanian saw things the likes of which he had never seen before. When he had taken it all in, the Indian said to him, “Abū Muḥammad, why don’t you send your son to India with me so that I can introduce him to our kings and leaders and merchants. That way they can get to know him and they’ll honor and protect him. He should learn the business of trade—I can see he’s suited to it. He’s clearly a shrewd, intelligent, and astute young man.” 1.9

“Well, he’s just recently married,” answered the Khorasanian, “and so he cannot travel until the year is up. But as you are my best friend, I’ll agree, out of honor for your friendship. But you must stay with us until his time is done.” 1.10

So the Indian stayed to the end of the year, and then the Khorasanian went to his son and said to him:

“Zahr al-basātīn,⁴ get ready to travel to India with this gentleman so you can see their cities and get to know their kings and merchants.”

“Father, I hear and obey God first, and then you.”

The merchant got everything his son needed for the trip and, when the time came, the young man left by the city gate and camped nearby. But then, having bid his father and his wife farewell, he realized that he had left behind something he needed. “Sir,” he said to the Indian, “I have forgotten something at home! Please wait until I get back.” 1.11

Upon his return, he found the door open. He entered and called for his wife. She did not answer. He pulled back the curtain at his bed and saw his wife lying asleep next to a black man. 1.12

Seeing her like this, he lost his mind. His hand went straight to the hilt of his sword and he killed them both. He placed the girl’s head on the black man’s chest, and the black man’s head on the girl’s chest. Then he returned to the Indian. The old man looked at him and noticed a change in his color. Something was different. But the youth would not answer his questions about what was wrong, and stayed like this until they reached the ship. 1.13

They were at sea for many days, and each day the youth’s appearance changed for the worse. At the city of the king, the capital of India, ships from every land were at anchor. The news of the ship’s arrival at the port was conveyed to the king, and skiffs came out to meet it. The people turned out in all their finery. The king rode a mighty elephant. On his right you could see ten banners of different silks and spearheads fitted with precious stones so brilliant they nearly blinded the eyes. 1.14

The Indian went ashore by skiff with Zahr al-basātīn. He went to the king and greeted him. The king looked at the youth and, in the Indian tongue, said to the old man, “O Royal Aide!” (for that was what he called him) “Is this the handsome youth of which you spoke?” 1.15

“He fell seriously ill on the journey, Sire, and this has changed his color and his whole appearance. I swear it, Majesty.”

The king ordered that the youth be lodged in the guest house opposite his palace and that no expense be spared to help him rest and recover from his travels. The old man, the Royal Aide, would check on the youth every day, bringing him electuaries and medicines and potions and anything he thought might help, but the youth just got worse and worse. 1.16

One day the youth was thinking about how he had found his wife with the black man, and could take it no more—the grief was killing him. He began to wander through the house from room to room. Noticing a small door, he pushed it open. It revealed a flight of stairs made of veined marble. He climbed the stairs to the upper stories of the house, where he discovered a dome with four doors and ...