The Sultan and His Vow

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.

When the old king died at the end of a long and glorious reign, Schahriar, his eldest son, ascended the throne and reigned in his stead. Schahzenan, 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. Schahzenan 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. Schahzenan 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 Schahriar so ardently desired to see his brother, that he sent his first vizier,with a splendid embassy, to invite him to revisit his court. As soon as Schahzenan 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. Schahzenan, 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 Schahzenan 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 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 Schahriar 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.
Schahriar 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 Schahriar, perceiving the night far advanced, left his brother to repose.
The unfortunate Schahzenan 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 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 Schahzenan's melancholy.
One morning when Schahriar had given orders for a grand hunting party at the distance of two days' journey from the city, Schahzenan 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, Schahzenan 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.
Schahriar 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 wife's misconduct, and of the severe punishment which he had addressed on her. Schahriar 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."
Schahzenan 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 Schahriar 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. Schahzenan soon after had a solemn audience of leave, and returned to his own kingdom, laden with the most magnificent presents.
When Schahzenan 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.

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 another 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, "but
how do you propose to accomplish it?"

"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?"
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:


THE FABLE OF THE ASS, THE OX, AND THE LABORER-1

Here the grand vizier said to Scheherazade: "You are, my child, just like this ass, and would expose yourself to destruction."
"Sir," replied Scheherazade, "the example which you have brought does not alter my resolution, and I shall not cease importuning you till I have obtained from you the favor of presenting me to the sultan as his consort."

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."
THE FABLE OF THE ASS, THE OX, AND THE LABORER-2

"You deserve, my daughter," added the grand vizier, "to be treated like the merchant's wife."
"Do not, sir," answered Scheherazade, "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, 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."

"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."

"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 pray you,
before the sun rises, one of your charming stories. 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 Genie