The Book of the Thousand and one Nights. Volume 1

J.C Mardrus, E.P Mathers, J.C Madrus, E.P Mathers

• Éditeur: Routledge
• Année: 2002
• ISBN:
  9781134948741
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: Literatura
• Sous-sujet: Crítica literaria

First Published in 1986. For this revised edition of The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night all names of persons and places and all Arabic words retained in the text have, where necessary, been compared with and corrected by Macnaghten's Calcutta Edition of the original (1839– 42).

THE TALE OF THE BARBER OF BAGHD

D
AND THE TALES OF HIS SIX BROTHERS

(Told by the Barber, and reported by the Tailor)

The Tale of the Barber

THE BARBER SAID:

YOU must know, my masters, that I lived in Baghdād during the reign of al-DMustansir Billāh, Prince of Believers. Those were good days for the people, because he loved the poor and the lowborn, though he himself was ever companioned by sages and seers and poets.

One day the Khal(fah had a judgment to do upon ten men who lived not far from the city, so he ordered a minor governor to bring them before him. Fate willed that, just as they were being embarked on a boat to cross the Tigris, I was walking on the banks of the river. Seeing so many in a boat together I said to myself: ‘This is a pleasure party. They are going out for the day to make merry together with eating and drinking. Though I die for it, I will be their guest and share the sport.’

I went down to the water’s edge and, without saying a word, for I am the Silent Man, jumped on board and mingled with the merry companions. But hardly had I done so when the wal(’s guards came aboard and put iron chains about the necks and wrists of all the ten, and about my neck and wrists also. And yet I never said a word, never whispered a syllable, which proves I think, my masters, that I have both courage and the gift of holding my tongue. I made no protest, the crossing was accomplished, and all of us were led before the Khal(fah al-DMustansir Billāh, Prince of Believers.

Seeing us, the Khal(fah called the executioner and said: ‘Cut off the heads of these ten rogues!’ The executioner made us kneel in line before the Sultān and, lifting his thin sword, cut off all ten heads, one after the other, each with a single blow. When he came to me, he stopped, since ten heads lay upon the ground already, and told the Khal(fah that the execution was over. But, seeing me still upright, the Sultān cried: ‘I ordered you to cut off all ten heads!’ ‘As true as Allāh is good to you and you are good to us,’ the executioner answered, ‘I have cut off ten heads.’ ‘Count them,’ said the King. The count was made and there lay ten heads and ten bodies. So the Khal(fah turned to me, saying: ‘Who are you and what are you doing among these lovers of bloodshed?’ Then and then only, my masters, I decided to break through my habitual rule of silence and said: ‘Prince of Believers, I am an old man called al-DSāmit, because of the brevity of my speeches. Wisdom I have in plenty; but of my acute judgment, the weight of such discourse as I use, my excellence in reason, my keen intelligence, and my habit of judicious silence I will say nothing, since these things speak for themselves. I am a barber by trade and one of the seven sons of my father. Now for the adventure which brought me here! This morning I was walking beside the Tigris when I saw these ten poor mortalities embarking in a boat. Thinking that they were going off for some jaunt on the water, I made myself one of their number. I soon saw that I had fallen among criminals, because your guards came and chained us all by the neck, yet even then, and although I did not know any of my companions, I neither protested nor spoke. I have a habit, you see, of resolution and silence.

‘Thus it was that I was led before you, O Prince of Believers. When you ordered the heads of the ten criminals to be cut off and I alone remained beneath the stroke of the executioner, even then I did not say a single word. That, I think, is a proof of considerable courage.And, when I come to think of it, the very fact that I associated myself willingly with these ten unknown men argues a greater heroism than I have heard of elsewhere. Yet you must not be astonished at what I did, Prince of Believers, for all my life I have gone out of my way to oblige strangers.’

When the Khal(fah heard my words and understood that I was a courageous and manly ancient, loving silence and the well-considered thought, detesting all curiosity and indiscretion, whatever that lame young man may have said just now (he whom I saved from so much trouble too!), he said to me: ‘Venerable sheikh, high-souled and decorous barber, tell me, are your six brothers also dowered with all knowledge and discretion?’ ‘Allāh preserve me!’ I answered. They are so different, Prince of Believers, that you almost insult me by comparing me with them. They are six mad, slack-mouthed fellows, and there is all the difference of the world between us. Because of their insane babblings, their indiscretions, and their unnatural cowardice, each has drawn on himself many calamities and at least one deformity of body.While I am vigorous and healthy of mind and limb, my first brother is lame, my second is one-eyed, my third brokenmouthed, my fourth blind, my fifth ear-cropped and with his nose sliced off, and my sixth lip-gashed.

‘But I would not like you to think, Prince of Believers, that I am exaggerating the faults and disqualifies of my brothers.You will only understand how different they are from me if I tell you all their stories. The tales about them are full of moral lessons for the circumspect.Without more ado I will tell you:

The Tale of Bakb

k,
the Barber’s First Brother

KNOW, O Commander of the Faithful, that the eldest of my brothers, he who became lame, is called Bakbūk because when he tattles he makes a glucking noise like water coming out of a jar. At one time he was a tailor in Baghdād.

He used to do his sewing in a small shop which he rented from a very rich merchant, who himself lived in the top part of the house above the shop. In the basement there was a mill where a miller lived and kept his bullock.

One day, as my brother Bakbūk was sitting sewing in his shop, he chanced to raise his eyes and saw a woman looking out at the passersby from a skylight let into the terrace floor above him. She was the wife of the owner of the building, and her looking forth was like the rising of the young moon. Bakbūk’s heart was fired with passion at the sight of her. He could sew no more, but spent all day with his head fixed, looking up at the skylight as if he were an idiot. Next morning he was in his place by dawn, and every time he took a stitch his eye wandered to the skylight, so that he pricked his fingers more than the cloth. For several days he did the same, neither working nor bringing in any money.

It was not long before the young woman understood my brother’s feelings and made up her mind to derive both profit and amusement from them. One day, as Bakbūk was sitting there in his customary adoration, she threw him a laughing glance which pierced his heart. He gave her back a languishing look which was so ridiculous that she had to retire precipitately to laugh at her ease. And the fool Bakbūk was overjoyed that day by the conquest which he thought he had made.

Next morning, therefore, my brother was not astonished to see his landlord entering the shop, carrying a great roll of rich silk under his arm. The merchant said: ‘I have brought this piece of stuff so that you can sew some shirts for me.’ ‘Certainly, certainly, they shall be ready this very evening,’ answered Bakbūk, who supposed that the landlord had been sent by his wife to further their intrigue in some way. He set to work so quickly, not allowing himself a moment for food, that twenty beautifully cut and sewn shirts were ready by the evening. The landlord came down to the shop again and asked: ‘How much do I owe you?’ but just at that moment the young woman appeared secretly at the skylight and signed to Bakbūk with her eyes and brows not to accept any money from her husband. So Bakbūk refused any payment, although he was extremely poor at the time and the smallest coin would have meant much to him. Yet the ass thought himself very lucky to be able to do the husband’s work for the love and bright eyes of the wife.

That was only the beginning of my infatuated brother’s trials. Next morning the landlord came again and handed a new roll of silk to Bakbūk, saying: ‘They tell me at home I must have some new trousers to go with the new shirts, so I have brought you the stuff. Let them be plenty large enough, do not stint the material, and use the finest needlework.’ ‘I hear and I obey!’ answered my brother, and for three whole days he worked fasting, so as to lose no time and also because there was not a single dirham in the house with which to buy food. When he had finished the fine new trousers, he folded them together and carried them joyfully upstairs to the landlord.

It is unnecessary to tell a person of your sagacity, O Commander of the Faithful, that the young woman was in league with her husband to make a laughing-stock of my unfortunate brother and to play him every trick that she could think of. When the landlord had received the trousers, he pretended to want to pay for them, but just at the right moment the pretty head of his wife appeared round the door and signed again to the tailor to refuse. So Bakbūk said that he would take no sort of payment. The husband withdrew for a moment to confer with his wife and then returned, saying: ‘As my wife and I feel that we must repay your splendid services in some way, we have determined to marry you to our white slave girl, that you may become in some sort one of the family. She is both beautiful and submissive.’ My witless Bakbūk thought that this was a clever ruse of the wife to give him free entry to the house, so he accepted without hesitation and was married straightway to the young slave.

When evening came, Bakbūk wished to approach his bride, but she said: ‘No, no, it cannot be to-night,’ and he was not able to take even a kiss from her.

Usually Bakbūk slept in the shop, but that night it had been arranged that the couple should sleep in the millroom, as it was larger; so, when the slave refused to let him lie with her and went upstairs again to her mistress,my brother was obliged to sleep in that unpleasant place alone. In the morning he was awakened by the loud voice of the miller saying: ‘Devil take the bullock! He has had a great deal of rest lately. Now I must harness him up to grind all the accumulated store of corn. My customers will be wanting their flour to-day.’ Then, feigning to take my brother for the bullock, he said: ‘Up lazy one! Come and be harnessed!’ and with that he fastened the dumbfounded Bakbūk by the middle to the pole of the mill and gave him a great blow with the whip, crying: ‘Yā Allāh!’ Feeling the whip sting about his loins, my brother began to low like a bullock and started to turn the mill. For a long time the miller thonged him on, and Bakbūk trotted round and round, lowing dismally and snuffling between the blows just as a bullock does.

In course of time the landlord came down to see what was happ...

Table des matières

• Cover Page
• Half Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Note
• Dedication
• As Allah Wills!
• The Tale of King Shahryār and of his Brother, King Shahzamān
• The Fable of the Ass, the Bull and the Husbandman
• Here Begin the Thousand Nights and One Night
• The Tale of the Barber of Baghdūd and the Tales of His Six Brothers