tion>
Sir Richard Francis Burton
Vikram and the Vampire
Classic Hindu Tales of Adventure, Magic, and Romance
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664136732
Table of Contents
PREFACE TO THE FIRST (1870) EDITION.
THE VAMPIRE’S FIRST STORY — In which a man deceives a woman.
THE VAMPIRE’S SECOND STORY — Of the Relative Villany of Men and Women.
THE VAMPIRE’S THIRD STORY — Of a High-minded Family.
THE VAMPIRE’S FOURTH STORY — Of A Woman Who Told The Truth.
THE VAMPIRE’S FIFTH STORY — Of the Thief Who Laughed and Wept.
THE VAMPIRE’S SIXTH STORY — In Which Three Men Dispute about a Woman.
THE VAMPIRE’S SEVENTH STORY — Showing the Exceeding Folly of Many Wise Fools.
THE VAMPIRE’S EIGHTH STORY — Of the Use and Misuse of Magic Pills.
THE VAMPIRE’S NINTH STORY — Showing That a Man’s Wife Belongs Not to His Body but to His Head.
THE VAMPIRE’S TENTH STORY [168] — Of the Marvellous Delicacy of Three Queens.
THE VAMPIRE’S ELEVENTH STORY — Which Puzzles Raja Vikram.
PREFACE
The Baital-Pachisi, or Twenty-five Tales of a Baital is the history of a huge Bat, Vampire, or Evil Spirit which inhabited and animated dead bodies. It is an old, and thoroughly Hindu, Legend composed in Sanskrit, and is the germ which culminated in the Arabian Nights, and which inspired the “Golden Ass” of Apuleius, Boccacio’s “Decamerone,” the “Pentamerone,” and all that class of facetious fictitious literature.
The story turns chiefly on a great king named Vikram, the King Arthur of the East, who in pursuance of his promise to a Jogi or Magician, brings to him the Baital (Vampire), who is hanging on a tree. The difficulties King Vikram and his son have in bringing the Vampire into the presence of the Jogi are truly laughable; and on this thread is strung a series of Hindu fairy stories, which contain much interesting information on Indian customs and manners. It also alludes to that state, which induces Hindu devotees to allow themselves to be buried alive, and to appear dead for weeks or months, and then to return to life again; a curious state of mesmeric catalepsy, into which they work themselves by concentrating the mind and abstaining from food—a specimen of which I have given a practical illustration in the Life of Sir Richard Burton.
The following translation is rendered peculiarly; valuable and interesting by Sir Richard Burton’s intimate knowledge of the language. To all who understand the ways of the East, it is as witty, and as full of what is popularly called “chaff” as it is possible to be. There is not a dull page in it, and it will especially please those who delight in the weird and supernatural, the grotesque, and the wild life.
My husband only gives eleven of the best tales, as it was thought the translation would prove more interesting in its abbreviated form.
ISABEL BURTON.
August 18th, 1893.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST (1870) EDITION.
“THE genius of Eastern nations,” says an established and respectable authority, “was, from the earliest times, much turned towards invention and the love of fiction. The Indians, the Persians, and the Arabians, were all famous for their fables. Amongst the ancient Greeks we hear of the Ionian and Milesian tales, but they have now perished, and, from every account we hear of them, appear to have been loose and indelicate.” Similarly, the classical dictionaries define “Milesiae fabulae” to be “licentious themes,” “stories of an amatory or mirthful nature,” or “ludicrous and indecent plays.” M. Deriege seems indeed to confound them with the “Moeurs du Temps” illustrated with artistic gouaches, when he says, “une de ces fables milesiennes, rehaussees de peintures, que la corruption romaine recherchait alors avec une folle ardeur.”
My friend, Mr. Richard Charnock, F.A.S.L., more correctly defines Milesian fables to have been originally “certain tales or novels, composed by Aristides of Miletus “; gay in matter and graceful in manner. “They were translated into Latin by the historian Sisenna, the friend of Atticus, and they had a great success at Rome. Plutarch, in his life of Crassus, tells us that after the defeat of Carhes (Carrhae?) some Milesiacs were found in the baggage of the Roman prisoners. The Greek text; and the Latin translation have long been lost. The only surviving fable is the tale of Cupid and Psyche,[1] which Apuleius calls ‘Milesius sermo,’ and it makes us deeply regret the disappearance of the others.” Besides this there are the remains of Apollodorus and Conon, and a few traces to be found in Pausanias, Athenaeus, and the scholiasts.
I do not, therefore, agree with Blair, with the dictionaries, or with M. Deriege. Miletus, the great maritime city of Asiatic Ionia, was of old the meeting-place of the East and the West. Here the Phoenician trader from the Baltic would meet the Hindu wandering to Intra, from Extra, Gangem; and the Hyperborean would step on shore side by side with the Nubian and the Aethiop. Here was produced and published for the use of the then civilized world, the genuine Oriental apologue, myth and tale combined, which, by amusing narrative and romantic adventure, insinuates a lesson in morals or in humanity, of which we often in our days must fail to perceive the drift. The book of Apuleius, before quoted, is subject to as many discoveries of recondite meaning as is Rabelais. As regards the licentiousness of the Milesian fables, this sign of semi-civilization is still inherent in most Eastern books of the description which we call “light literature,” and the ancestral tale-teller never collects a larger purse of coppers than when he relates the worst of his “aurei.” But this looseness, resulting