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Title: The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night — Volume 16
Author: Richard F. Burton, - To be updated
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night — Volume 16" ***

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Nancy Bloomquist, Jeff Ferrell, Jeroen Hellingman, Carrie Lorenz,
Leonard Young, and Ralph Zimmermann.

                  To The Book Of The Thousand
                   And One Nights With Notes
                      Anthropological And

                       Richard F. Burton

                           VOLUME SIX
              Privately Printed By The Burton Club

                  I Inscribe This Final Volume
                   The Many Excellent Friends
           who lent me their valuable aid in copying
                         and annotating
                The Thousand Nights and a Night

               Contents of the Sixteenth Volume.

1.   The Say of Haykar the Sage
2.   The History of Al-Bundukani or, The Caliph Harun Al-Rashid
     and the Daughter of King Kisra
3.   The Linguist-Dame, the Duenna and the King's Son
4.   The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad
5.   The Pleasant History of the Cock and the Fox
6.   History of What Befel the Fowl-let with the Fowler
7.   The Tale of Attaf
          The Tale of Attaf by Alexander J. Cotheal
8.   History of Prince Habib and what Befel Him with the Lady
     Durrat Al-Ghawwas
     a.   The History of Durrat Al-Ghawwas


Notes on the Stories Contained in Volume XVI, by W. F. Kirby
Index to the Tales and Proper Names
Index to the Variants and Analogues
Index to the Notes of W. A. Clouston and W. F. Kirby
Alphabetical Table of Notes (Anthropological, &c.)
Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand and One
Nights, by W. F. Kirby
The Biography of the Book and Its Reviewers Reviewed
Opinions of the Press

                   The Translator's Foreword.

This volume has been entitled "THE NEW ARABIAN 1 NIGHTS," a name
now hackneyed because applied to its contents as far back as 1819
in Henry Weber's "Tales of the East" (Edinburgh, Ballantyne).

The original MS. was brought to France by Al-K\xE1hin Diy\xE1nisi\xE1s
Sh\xE1w\xEDsh, a Syrian priest of the Congregation of St. Basil, whose
name has been Frenchified to Dom Dennis (or Denys) Chavis. He was
a student at the European College of Al-Kad\xEDs Ithan\xE1si\xFAs (St.
Athanasius) in R\xFAmiyah the Grand (Constantinople) and was
summoned by the Minister of State, Baron de Breteuil, to Paris,
where he presently became "Teacher of the Arabic Tongue at the
College of the Sult\xE1n, King of Frans\xE1 in B\xE1r\xEDs (Paris) the
Great." He undertook (probably to supply the loss of Galland's
ivth MS. volume) a continuation of The Nights (proper), and wrote
with his own hand the last two leaves of the third tome, which
ends with three instead of four couplets: thus he completed Kamar
al-Zam\xE1n (Night cclxxxi.- cccxxix.) and the following tales:--

The History of the Sleeper and the Waker (Nights
The History of Warlock and the Cook (ccclxxx.-cd.).
The History of the Prisoner in the B\xEDm\xE1rist\xE1n or Madhouse
The History of Gh\xE1nim the Thrall o' Love (cdxxviii.-cdlxxiv.).
The History of Zayn al-Asn\xE1m and the King of the J\xE1nn
The History of Alaeddin (cdxcii.-dlxix.), and
The History of Ten Wazirs (dlxx.).

The copy breaks off at folio 320, r  in the middle of Night
dcxxxi., and the date (given at the end of Night cdxxvii., folio
139) is Shub\xE1t (February), A.D. 1787. This is the MS. numbered
Suppl\xE9ment Arabe, No. 1716.

In Paris, Dom Chavis forgathered with M. Cazotte, a litt\xE9rateur
of the category "light," an ing\xE9nieux \xE9crivain, distinguished for
"gaiety, delicacy, wit and Attic elegance," and favorably known
for (inter alia) his poem "Olivier," his "Diable Amoureux," "The
Lord Impromptu," and a travesty of The Nights called "The
Thousand and One Fopperies." The two agreed to collaborate, the
Syrian translating the Arabic into French, and the Parisian
metamorphosing the manner and matter to "the style and taste of
the day"; that is to say, working up an exaggerated imitation, a
caricature, of Galland. The work appeared, according to Mr. A. G.
Ellis, of the British Museum, who kindly sent me these notes, in
Le Cabinet | des F\xE9es, | ou | Collection choisie | des Contes des
F\xE9es, | et autres contes merveilleux, | orn\xE9s de figures. | Tome
trente-huiti\xE9me--(quarante-uni\xE8me). | A Gen\xE8ve, | chez B\xE1rde,
Manget et Compagnie, | Imprimeurs-Libraires. | Et se trouve \xE0
Paris | Rue et H\xF4tel Serpente. | 1788-89, 8  [FN#1] . The
half-title is Les Veilli\xE9es Persanes, and on the second title-
page is Les Veilli\xE9es | du | Sultan Schahriar, avec | la Sultane
Scheherazade; | Histoires incroyables, amusantes, et morales, |
traduites de l'Arabe par M. Cazotte et | D. Chavis. Faisant suite
aux mille et une Nuits. | Orn\xE9es de I2 belles gravures. | Tome
premier (--quatri\xE8me) | \xE0 Gen\xE8ve, | chez Barde, Manget et Comp' |
1793. This 8vo[FN#2] bears the abridged title, La Suite des mille
et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, traduits par Dom Chavis et M.
Cazotte. The work was printed with illustrations at Geneva and in
Paris, MDCCLXXXVIII., and formed the last four volumes (xxxviii.-
xli.) of the great Recueil, the Cabinet des F\xE9es, published at
Geneva from A.D. 1788 to 1793.

The following is a complete list of the histories, as it appears
in the English translation, lengthily entitled, "Arabian Tales; |
or, | a Continuation | of the | Arabian Nights Entertainments. |
Consisting of | Stories | Related by the | Sultana of the Indies
| to divert her Husband from the Performance of a rash vow; |
Exhibiting | A most interesting view of the Religion, Laws, |
Manners, Customs, Arts, and Literature | of the | Nations of the
East, | And | Affording a rich Fund of the most pleasing
Amusement, | which fictitious writings can supply. | In Four
Volumes | newly translated from the original Arabic into French |
By Dom Chavis | a native Arab and M. Cazotte, Member | of the
Academy of Dijon. | And translated from the French into English |
By Robert Heron. | Edinburgh: | Printed for Bell and Bradfute, J.
Dickson, E. Balfour, | and P. Hill, Edinburgh, | and G. G. J. and
J. Robinson, London | MDCCXCIl."

1.   The Robber-Caliph; or, adventures of Haroun-Alraschid, with
     the Princess of Persia and the fair Zutulbe.[FN#3]
2.   The Power of Destiny, or, Story of the Journey of Giafar to
     Damascus comprehending the Adventures of Chebib (Hab\xEDb) and
     his family.
3.   The Story of Halechalb\xE9 (Ali Cheleb\xED) and the Unknown Lady;
     or, the Bimaristan.
4.   The Idiot; or, Story of Xailoun.[FN#4]
5.   The Adventures of Simustafa (="S\xED" for S\xEDd\xED "Mustafa") and
     the Princess Ilsatilsone (Lizzat al-Lus\xFAn = Delight of
6.   Adventures of Alibengiad, Sultan of Herat, and of the False
     Birds of Paradise.
7.   History of Sankarib and his two Viziers.
8.   History of the Family of the Schebandad (Shah-bander =
     Consul) of Surat.
9.   The Lover of the Stars: or, Abil Hasan's Story.
10.  History of Captain Tranchemont and his Brave Companions:
     Debil Hasen's Story.
11.  The Dream of Valid Hasan.
12-23.    Story of Bohetzad and his Ten Viziers (with eleven
          subsidiary tales).[FN#5]
24.  Story of Habib and Dorathal-Goase (=Durrat al-Ghaww\xE1s the
     Pearl of the Diver); or, the Arabian Knight.
25.  Story of Illabousatrous (?) of Schal-Goase, and of
26.  Story of the Lady of the Beautiful Tresses.
27.  The History of Habib and Dorathal-Goase; or, the Arabian
     Knight continued.
28.  History of Maugraby (Al Magnrabi=the Moor); or, the
29.  History of Halaiaddin ('Al\xE1 al-Din, Alaeddin, Aladdin),
     Prince of Persia.
30.  History of Yemaladdin (Jam\xE1l al-D\xEDn), Prince of Great Katay.
31.  History of Baha-Ildur, Prince of Cinigae.
32.  History of Badrildinn (Badr al-D\xEDn), Prince of Tartary.
33.  History of the Amours of Maugraby with Auhata al-Kawakik ( =
     Ukht al-Kaw\xE1kib, Sister of the Planets), daughter of the
     King of Egypt.
34.  History of the Birth of Maugraby.

Of these thirty four only five (MS. iv., vi., vii., xxvii. and
xxxii.) have not been found in the original Arabic.

Public opinion was highly favourable to the "Suite" when first
issued. Orientalism was at that time new to Europe, and the
general was startled by its novelties, e.g. by "Women wearing
drawers and trousers like their husbands, and men arrayed in
loose robes like their wives, yet at the same time cherishing, as
so many goats, each a venerable length of beard." (Heron's
Preface.) They found its "ph\xE6nomena so remote from the customs
and manners of Europe, that, when exhibited as entering into the
ordinary system of human affairs, they could not fail to confer a
considerable share of amusive novelty on the characters and
events with which they were connected." (Ditto, Preface.)
Jonathan Scott roundly pronounced the continuation a forgery. Dr.
Patrick Russell (History of Aleppo, vol. i. 385) had no good
opinion of it, and Caussin de Perceval (p\xE8re, vol. viii., p.
40-46) declared the version \xE9loign\xE9e du go\xFBt Orientale; yet he
re-translated the tales from the original Arabic (Continu\xE9s,
Paris, 1806), and in this he was followed by Gauttier, while
Southey borrowed the idea of his beautiful romance, "Thalaba the
Destroyer," now in Lethe from the "History of Maughraby." Mr. A.
G. Ellis considers these tales as good as the old "Arabian
Nights," and my friend Mr. W. F. Kirby (Appendix to The Nights,
vol. x. p. 418), quite agrees with him that Chavis and Cazotte's
Continuation is well worthy of republication in its entirety. It
remained for the Edinburgh Review, in one of those ignorant and
scurrilous articles with which it periodically outrages truth and
good taste (No. 535, July, 1886), to state, "Cazotte published
his Suite des Mille et une Nuits, a barefaced forgery, in 1785."
A barefaced forgery! when the original of twenty eight tales out
of thirty four are perfectly well known, and when sundry of these
appear in MSS. of "The Thousand Nights and a Night."

The following is a list of the Tales (widely differing from those
of Chavis and Cazotte) which appeared in the version of Caussin
de Perceval.

                          VOLUME VIII.

Les | Mille et une Nuits | Contes Arabes, | Traduits en Francais
| Par M. Galland, | Membre de l'Acad\xE9mie des Inscriptions et |
Belles-Lettres, Professeur de Langue Arabe | au Coll\xE9ge Royal, |
Continu\xE9s | Par M. Caussin de Perceval, | Professeur de Langue
Arabe au Coll\xE9ge Imp\xE9rial. | Tome huiti\xE9me. | \xE0 Paris, | chez Le
Normant, Imp.-Libraire, | Rue des Pr\xEAtres Saint-Germain-l
\x91Auxerrois. | 1806.

1.   Nouvelles aventures du calife Haroun Alraschid; ou histoire
     de la petite fille de Chosro\xE8s Anouschirvan.
        Gauttier, Histoire du Khalyfe de Baghdad: vol. vii. II7.)
2.   Le Bimaristan, ou histoire du jeune Marchand de Bagdad et de
     la dame inconnue.
3.   Le m\xE9d\xE9cin et le jeune traiteur de Bagdad
4.   Histoire du Sage Hicar.
        (Gauttier, Histoire du Sage Heycar, vii. 313.)
5.   Histoire du roi Azadbakht, ou des dix Visirs.
6.   Histoire du marchand devenu malheureux.
7.   Histoire du imprudent et de ses deux enfants.
8.   Histoire du d' Abousaber, ou de l'homme patient.
9.   Histoire du du prince Behezad.
10.  Histoire du roi Dadbin, ou de la vertueuse Aroua.
11.  Histoire du Bakhtzeman.
12.  Histoire du Khadidan.
13.  Histoire du Beherkerd.
14.  Histoire du Ilanschah et d'Abouteman.
15.  Histoire du Ibrahim et de son fils.
16.  Histoire du Sole\xEFman-schah.
17.  Histoire du de l'esclave sauve du supplice.

                           VOLUME IX.

18.  Attaf ou l'homme g\xE9n\xE9reux.
        (Gauttier, Histoire de l'habitant de Damas, vii. 234.)
19.  Histoire du Prince Habib et de Dorrat Algoase.
20.  Histoire du roi Sapor, souverain des \xEEles Bellour; de Camar
     Alzemann, fille du genie Alatrous, et Dorrat Algoase.
        (Gauttier, vii. 64.)
21.  Histoire de Naama et de Naam.
22.  Histoire du d'Alaeddin.
23.  Histoire du d'Abou Mohammed Alkeslan.
24.  Histoire du d'Aly Mohammed le joaillier, ou du faux calife.

I need hardly offer any observations upon these tales, as they
have been discussed in the preceding pages.

By an error of the late M. Reinaud (for which see p. 39 His toire
d' 'Al\xE2 al-Din by M. H. Zotenberg, Paris, Imprimerie Na tionale,
MDCCCLXXXVIII.) the MS. Suppl\xE9ment Arabe, No. I7I6, in the
writing of Dom Chavis has been confounded with No. 1723, which is
not written by the Syrian priest but which contains the originals
of the Cazotte Continuation as noted by M. C. de Perceval (Les
Mille et une Nuits, etc., vol. viii. Pr\xE9f. p. I7, et seqq.) It is
labelled Histoires tir\xE9es la plupart des Mille et une Nuits |
Suppl\xE9ment Arabe | Volume de 742 pages. The thick quarto measures
centim\xE8tres 20 \xBD long by I6 wide; the binding is apparently
Italian and the paper is European, but the filegrane or water-
mark, which is of three varieties, a coronet, a lozenge-shaped
bunch of circles and a nondescript, may be Venetian or French. It
contains 765 pages, paginated after European fashion, but the
last eleven leaves are left blank reducing the number written to
742; and the terminal note, containing the date, is on the last
leaf. Each page numbers IS lines and each leaf has its catchword
(mot de rappel). It is not ordered by "karr\xE1s" or quires; but is
written upon 48 sets of 4 double leaves. The text is in a fair
Syrian hand, but not so flowing as that of No. 1716, by Sh\xE1w\xEDsh
himself, which the well-known Arabist, Baron de Slane, described
as Bonne \xE9criture orientale de la fin du XVIII Si\xE8cle. The
colophon conceals or omits the name of the scribe, but records
the dates of incept K\xE1n\xFAn IId. (the Syrian winter month January)
A.D. 1772; and of conclusion Nays\xE1n (April) of the same year. It
has head-lines disposed recto and verve, e.g.,

   Hayk\xE1r      --------------------          Al-Hak\xEDm,

and parentheses in the text after European fashion with an
imperfect list at the beginning. A complete index is furnished at
the end. The following are the order and pagination of the
fourteen stories:--

1.   The King of Persia and his Ten Wazirs . . . . . .pp. 1 to 62
2.   Say of the Sage Hayk\xE1r. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .140
3.   History of King Sab\xFAr and the Three Wise Men. . . . . . .183
4.   The Daughter of Kisr\xE0 the King (Al Bunduk\xE2ni) . . . . . .217
5.   The Caliph and the Three Kalandars. . . . . . . . . . . .266
6.   Juln\xE1r the Sea born . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .396
7.   The Duenna, the Linguist-dame and the King's Son. . . . .476
8.   The Tale of the Warlock and the young Cook of Baghdad . .505
9.   The Man in the B\xEDm\xE1r\xEDstan or Madhouse . . . . . . . . . .538
10.  The Tale of Att\xE1f the Syrian. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .588
11.  The History of Sultan Hab\xEDb and Durrat al-Ghaww\xE1s . . . .628
12.  The Caliph and the Fisherman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .686
13.  The Cock and the Fox. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .718
14.  The Fowl-let and the Fowler . . . . . . . 725 to 739 (finis)

Upon these tales I would be permitted to offer a few
observetions. No. i. begins with a Christian formula:--"In the
name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost"
(R\xFAhu'l-Kudus); and it is not translated, because it is a mere
replica of the Ten Wazirs (Suppl. vol. i. 55-151). The second,
containing "The Sage Hayk\xE1r," which is famous in folk-lore
throughout the East, begins with the orthodox Moslem "Bismillah,"
etc. "King Sapor" is prefaced by a Christian form which to the
Trinitarian formula adds, "Allah being One"; this, again, is not
translated, because it repeats the "Ebony Horse" (vol. v. 1). No
iv., which opens with the Bismillah, is found in the Sabb\xE1gh MS.
of The Nights (see Suppl. vol. iii.) as the Histoire de Haroun
al-Raschid et de la descendante de Chosro\xE8s. Albondoqani (Nights
lxx.-lxxvii.). No. v., which also has the Moslem invocation, is
followed by the "Caliph and the Three Kalandars," where, after
the fashion of this our MS., the episodes (vol. i., 104-130) are
taken bodily from "The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad"
(i. 82), and are converted into a separate History. No. vi. has
no title to be translated, being a replica of the long sea-tale
in vol. vii., 264. Nos. vii., viii., ix., x. and xi. lack
initiatory invocation betraying Christian or Moslem provenance.
No. viii. is the History of S\xED Mustaf\xE1 and of Shaykh Shah\xE1b al-
D\xEDn in the Turkish Tales: it also occurs in the Sabb\xE1gh MS.
(Nights ccclxxxvi.-cdviii.). The B\xEDm\xE1rist\xE1n (No. ix.), alias Ali
Chalabi (Halechalb\xE9), has already appeared in my Suppl. vol. iv.
35. No. xii., "The Caliph and the Fisherman," makes Harun
al-Rashid the hero of the tale in "The Fisherman and the Jinni"
(vol. i. 38); it calls the ensorcelled King of the Black Islands
Mahm\xFAd, and his witch of a wife Sitt al-Mul\xFAk, and it also
introduces into the Court of the Great Caliph Hasan Shum\xE1n and
Ahmad al-Danaf, the prominent personages in "The Rogueries of
Dal\xEDlah" (vol. vii. 144) and its sister tale (vii. 172). The two
last Histories, which are ingenious enough, also lack initial

Dr. Russell (the historian of Aleppo) brought back with him a
miscellaneous collection comprising--

Al-Bundukani, or the Robber Caliph;
The Power of Destiny (Attaf the Syrian);
Ali Chelebi, or the Bimaristan;
King Sankharib and the Sage Haykar;
Bohetzad (Az\xE1dbakht) and the Ten Wazirs; and, lastly,
Habib, or the Arabian Knight.

The Encyclopedia Britannica (ixth edit. of MDCCCLXXVI.), which
omits the name of Professor Galland, one of the marking
Orientalists in his own day, has not ignored Jacques Cazotte,
remarkable for chequered life and noble death. Born in 1720, at
Dijon, where his father was Chancellor for the Province of
Burgundy, he studied with the Jesuits at home; and, having passed
through the finishing process in Paris, he was introduced to
public life by the Administration de la Marine. He showed early
taste for poetry as well as prose, and composed songs, tales, and
an opera--"The Thousand and One Fopperies." His physique is
described as a tall figure, with regular features, expressive
blue eyes, and fine hair, which he wore long. At twenty seven he
became a commissary in the office and was presently sent as
Comptroller to the Windward Islands, including the French Colony
Martinique, which then as now was famous for successful woman-
kind. At these head-quarters he became intimate with P\xE8re
Lavalette, Superior of the S. J. Mission, and he passed some
years of a pleasant and not unintellectual career. Returning to
Paris on leave of absence he fell in with a country-woman and an
old family friend, Madame La Poissonnier, who had been appointed
head nurse to the Duke of Burgundy; and, as the child in her
charge required lulling to sleep, Cazotte composed the favourite
romances (ballads), Tout au beau milieu des Ardennes, and Commere
II faut chauffer le lit. These scherzi, however, brought him more
note than profit, and soon afterwards he returned to Martinique.

During his second term of service Cazotte wrote his heroic comic-
poem, the Roman d'Olivier, in twelve cantos, afterwards printed
in Paris (2 vols. 8vo, 1765); and it was held a novel and
singular composition. When the English first attacked (in 1759)
Saint Pierre of Martinique, afterwards captured by Rodney in
1762, the sprightly litt\xE9rateur showed abundant courage and
conduct, but over-exertion injured his health, and he was again
driven from his post by sickness. He learned, on landing in
France, that his brother, whilome Vicar-General to M. de
Choiseul, Bishop of Ch\xE2lons-sur-Marne, had died and left him a
fair estate, Pierry, near Epernay; he therefore resigned his
appointment and retired with the title "Commissary General to the
Marine." But presently he lost 50,000 \xE9cus--the whole fruit of
his economies--by the speculations of P\xE8re Lavalette, to whose
hands he had entrusted his estates, negroes, and effects at
Martinique. These had been sold and the cheques had been
forwarded to the owner: the S. J., however, refused to honour
them. Hence the scandal of a law-suit in which Cazotte showed
much delicacy and regard for the feelings of his former tutors.

Meanwhile Cazotte had married Elizabeth Roignon, daughter to the
Chief Justice of Martinique; he returned to the Parisian world
with some \xE9clat and he became an universal favourite on account
of his happy wit and humour, his bonhomie, his perfect frankness,
and his hearty amiability. The vogue of "Olivier" induced him to
follow it up with Le Diable Amoureux, a continuation or rather
parody of Voltaire's Guerre civile de Gen\xE8ve: this work was so
skilfully carried out that it completely deceived the world; and
it was followed by sundry minor pieces which were greedily read.
Unlike the esprits forts of his age, he became after a gay youth-
tide an ardent Christian; he made the Gospel his rule of life;
and he sturdily defended his religious opinions; he had also the
moral courage to enter the lists with M. de Voltaire, then the
idol-in-chief of the classes and the masses.

In later life Cazotte met Dom Chavis, who was translating into a
curious jargon (Arabo-Franco-Italian) certain Oriental tales;
and, although he was nearing the Psalmist's age-term of man, he
agreed to "collaborate." The Frenchman used to take the pen at
midnight when returning from "social pleasures," and work till
4-5 a.m. As he had prodigious facility and spontaneity he
finished his part of the task in two winters. Some of the tales
in the suite, especially that of "Maugraby," are attributed
wholly to his invention; and, as a rule, his aim and object were
to diffuse his spiritual ideas and to write treatises on moral
perfection under the form of novelle.

Cazotte, after a well-spent and honourable life, had reason to
expect with calmness "the evening and ending of a fine day." But
this was not to be; the Great Revolution had burst like a
hurricane over the land, and he was doomed to die a hero's death.
His character was too candid, and his disposition too honest, for
times which suggested concealment. He had become one of the
Illuminati, and La Harpe ascribed to him the celebrated prophecy
which described the minutest events of the Great Revolution. A
Royalist pur sang, he freely expressed his sentiments to his old
friend Ponteau, then Secretary of the Civil List. His letters
came to light shortly after the terrible day, August IO, 1792: he
was summarily arrested at Pierry and brought to Paris, where he
was thrown into prison. On Sept. 3, when violence again waxed
rampant, he was attacked by the patriot-assassins, and was saved
only by the devotion of his daughter Elizabeth, who threw herself
upon the old man crying, "You shall not reach my father's heart
before piercing mine." The courage of the noble pair commanded
the admiration of the ruffians, and they were carried home in

For a few weeks the family remained unmolested, but in those days
"Providence" slept and Fortune did not favour the brave. The
Municipality presently decreed a second arrest, and the venerable
litt\xE9rateur, aged seventy two, was sent before the revolutionary
tribunal appointed to deal with the pretended offences of August
10. He was subjected to an interrogatory of thirty-six hours,
during which his serenity and presence of mind never abandoned
him and impressed even his accusers. But he was condemned to die
for the all-sufficient reason:--"It is not enough to be a good
son, a good husband, a good father, one must also prove oneself a
good citizen." He spent his last hours wit'. his confessor, wrote
to his wife and children, praying his family not to beweep him,
not to forget him, and never to offend against their God; and
this missive, with a lock of his hair for his beloved daughter,
he finally entrusted to the ghostly father. Upon the scaffold he
turned to the crowd and cried, "I die as I have lived, truthful
and faithful to my God and my King." His venerable head, crowned
with the white honours of age, fell on Sept. 25, 1792.

Cazotte printed many works, some of great length, as the \x8Cuvres
Morales, which filled 7 vols. 8vo in the complete edition of
1817; and the biographers give a long list of publications,
besides those above-mentioned, romantic, ethical, and spiritual,
in verse and in prose. But he wrote mainly for his own pleasure,
he never sought fame, and consequently his reputation never
equalled his merit. His name, however, still smells sweet,
passing sweet, amid the corruption and the frantic fury of his
day, and the memory of the witty, genial, and virtuous
litt\xE9rateur still blossoms in the dust.

During my visit to Paris in early 1887, M. Hermann Zotenberg was
kind enough to show me the MS., No. 1723, containing the original
tales of the "New Arabian Nights." As my health did not allow me
sufficient length of stay to complete my translation, Professor
Houdas kindly consented to copy the excerpts required, and to
explain the words and phrases which a deficiency of dictionaries
and vocabularies at an outlandish port-town rendered
unintelligible to me.

In translating a MS., which has never been collated or corrected
and which abounds in errors of omission and commission, I have
been guided by one consideration only, which is, that my first
and chiefest duty to the reader is to make my book readable at
the same time that it lays before him the whole matter which the
text offered or ought to have offered. Hence I have not hesitated
when necessary to change the order of the sentences, to delete
tautological words and phrases, to suppress descriptions which
are needlessly reiterated, and in places to supply the connecting
links without which the chain of narrative is weakened or broken.
These are liberties which must be allowed, unless the
translator's object be to produce a mutilated version of a

Here also I must express my cordial gratitude to Mr. Alexander J.
Cotheal, Consul-General for Nicaragua, in New York. This
distinguished Arabist not only sent to me across the seas his MS.
containing, inter alia, "The Tale of Attaf," he also under took
to translate it for my collection upon my distinct assurance that
its many novelties of treatment deserved an especial version. Mr.
W. F. Kirby has again conferred upon my readers an important
service by his storiological notes. Lastly, Dr. Steingass has
lent me, as before, his valuable aid in concluding as he did in
commencing this series, and on putting the colophon to

                      The Sixteenth Volume


                The Thousand Nights and a Night.


United Service Club, August 1st, 1888.

                      Supplemental Nights

                       To The Book Of The

                  Thousand Nights And A Night

               The Say of Haykar the Sage.[FN#6]

In the name of Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate, the
Eternal One, the Termless, the Timeless, and of Him aidance we
await. And here we begin (with the assistance of Allah Almighty
and his fair furtherance) to invite the Story of Haykar the Sage,
the Philosopher, the Wazir of Sankharib[FN#7] the Sovran, and of
the son of the wise man's sister Nadan[FN#8] the Fool.

They relate that during the days of Sankh\xE1r\xEDb the King, lord of
As\xFAr[FN#9] and Naynawah,[FN#10] there was a Sage, Hayk\xE1r hight,
Grand Wazir of that Sovran and his chief secretary, and he was a
grandee of abundant opulence and ampliest livelihood: ware was he
and wise, a philosopher, and endowed with lore and rede and
experience.  Now he had interwedded with threescore wives, for
each and every of which he had builded in his palace her own
bower; natheless he had not a boy to tend, and was he sore of
sorrow therefor. So one day he gathered together the experts,
astrologers and wizards, and related to them his case and
complained of the condition caused by his barrenness. They made
answer to him, "Get thee within and do sacrifice to the Godheads
and enquire of them and implore their favour when haply shall
they vouchsafe unto thee boon of babe." He did whatso they bade
and set corbans and victims before the images and craved their
assistance, humbling himself with prayer and petition; withal
they vouchsafed to him never a word of reply. So he fared forth
in distress and disappointment and went his ways all
disheartened. Then he returned in his humiliation to Almighty
Allah[FN#11] and confided his secret unto Him and called for
succour in the burning of his heart, and cried with a loud voice
saying, "O God of Heaven and Earth, O Creator of all creatures, I
beg Thee to vouchsafe unto me a son wherewith I may console my
old age and who may become my heir, after being present at my
death and closing my eyes and burying my body." Hereat came a
Voice from Heaven which said, "Inasmuch as at first thou
trustedst in graven images and offeredst to them victims, so
shalt thou remain childless, lacking sons and daughters.
However, get thee up and take to thee N\xE1d\xE1n, thy sister's child;
and, after taking this nephew to son, do thou inform him with thy
learning and thy good breeding and thy sagesse, and demise to him
that he inherit of thee after thy decease." Hereupon the Sage
adopted his nephew Nadan, who was then young in years and a
suckling, that he might teach him and train him; so he entrusted
him to eight wet-nurses and dry-nurses for feeding and rearing,
and they brought him up on diet the choicest with delicatest
nurture and clothed him with sendal and escarlate[FN#12] and
dresses dyed with Alkermes,[FN#13] and his sitting was upon
shag-piled rugs of silk. But when Nadan grew great and walked and
shot up even as the lofty Cedar[FN#14] of Lebanon, his uncle
taught him deportment and writing and reading[FN#15] and
philosophy and the omne scibile. Now after a few days Sankharib
the King looked upon Haykar and saw how that he had waxed an old
old man, so quoth he to him, "Ho thou excellent companion,[FN#16]
the generous, the ingenious, the judicious, the sagacious, the
Sage, my Secretary and my Minister and the Concealer of my
secrets and the Councillor of my kingdom, seeing how so it be
that thou art aged and well shotten in years and nigh unto thy
death and decease, so tell me[FN#17] who shall stand in my
service after thy demise?" Made answer Haykar, "O my lord the
King, may thy head live for ever and aye! that same shall be this
Nadan, son to my sister, whom I have taken to myself as mine own
child and have reared him and have taught him my learning and my
experience, all thereof." "Bring him to the presence," quoth the
King, "and set him between my hands, that I look upon him; and,
if I find him fitting, I will stablish him in thy stead. Then do
thou wend thy ways and off-go from office that thou take thy rest
and tend thine old age, living the lave of thy life in the
fairest of honour." Hereupon Haykar hied him home and carried his
nephew Nadan before the King, who considered him and was pleased
with the highmost of pleasure and, rejoicing in him, presently
asked the uncle, "Be this thine adopted son, O Haykar? I pray
Allah preserve him; and, even as thou servedst my sire
Sarh\xE1d\xFAn[FN#18] before me, even so shall this thy son do me suite
and service and fulfil my affairs and my needs and my works, to
the end that I may honour him and advance him for the sake of
thee." Thereat Haykar prostrated himself before the presence and
said, "May thy head live, O my lord, for evermore! I desire of
thee to extend the wings of thy spirit over him for that he is my
son, and do thou be clement to his errings, so that he may serve
thee as besitteth." The King forthwith made oath that he would
stablish the youth amongst the highmost of his friends and the
most worshipful of his familiars and that he should abide with
him in all respect and reverence. So Haykar kissed the royal
hands and blessed his lord; then, taking with him Nadan his
nephew, he seated him in privacy and fell to teaching him by
night as well as by day, that he might fill him with wisdom and
learning rather than with meat and drink; and he would address
him in these terms.[FN#19]  "O dear my son,[FN#20] if a word come
to thine ears, suffer it to die within thy heart nor ever
disclose it unto other, lest haply it become a live coal[FN#21]
to burn up thy tongue and breed pain in thy body and clothe thee
in shame and gar thee despised of God and man. O dear my son, an
thou hear a report reveal it not, and if thou behold a thing
relate it not. O dear my son, make easy thine address unto thine
hearers, and be not hasty in return of reply. O dear my son,
desire not formal beauty which fadeth and vadeth while fair
report endureth unto infinity. O dear my son, be not deceived by
a woman immodest of speech lest her snares waylay thee[FN#22] and
in her springes thou become a prey and thou die by ignominious
death. O dear my son, hanker not after a woman adulterated by
art, such as clothes and cosmetics, who is of nature bold and
immodest, and beware lest thou obey her and give her aught that
is not thine and entrust to her even that which is in thy hand,
for she will robe thee in sin and Allah shall become wroth with
thee. O dear my son, be not like unto the almond-tree[FN#23]
which leafeth earlier than every growth and withal is ever of the
latest to fruit; but strive to resemble the mulberry-tree which
beareth food the first of all growths and is the last of any to
put forth her foliage.[FN#24] O dear my son, bow thy head before
thine inferior and soften thine utterance and be courteous and
tread in the paths of piety, and shun impudence and louden not
thy voice whenas thou speakest or laughest; for, were a house to
be builded by volume of sound, the ass would edify many a mansion
every day.[FN#25] O dear my son, the transport of stones with a
man of wisdom is better than the drinking of wine with one blamed
for folly. O dear my son, rather pour out thy wine upon the tombs
of the pious than drain it with those who give offence by their
insolence. O dear my son, cleave to the sage that is Allah-
fearing and strive to resemble him, and approach not the fool
lest thou become like unto him and learn his foolish ways. O dear
my son, whenas thou affectest a friend or a familiar, make trial
of him and then company with him, and without such test nor
praise him nor divulge thy thoughts unto one who is other than
wise. O dear my son, as long as thy boot is upon thy leg and
foot, walk therewith over the thorns and tread a way for thy sons
and thy sons' sons; and build thee a boat ere the sea break into
billows and breakers and drown thee before thou find an ark of
safety. O dear my son, when the richard eateth a snake, folks
shall say that 'tis of his subtilty; but when a pauper feedeth
upon it, the world shall declare 'tis of his poverty. O dear my
son, be content with thy grade and thy good, nor covet aught of
thy fellow. O dear my son, be not neighbourly with the ignorant
nor do thou break with him bread, and joy not in the annoy of
those about thee and when thy foe shall maltreat thee meet him
with beneficence. O dear my son, fear the man who feareth not
Allah and hold him in hate. O dear my son, the fool shall fall
when he trippeth; but the wise man when he stumbleth shall not
tumble and if he come to the ground he shall rise up quickly, and
when he sickeneth he shall readily heal himself, whereas to the
malady of the ignorant and the stupid there is no remedy. O dear
my son, when a man lesser than thyself shall accost thee, prevent
him in standing respectfully before him, and if he suffice thee
not the Lord shall suffice thee in his stead. O dear my son,
spare not blows to thy child,[FN#26] for the beating of the boy
is like manuring to the garden and binding to the purse-mouth and
tethering to the cattle and locking to the door. O dear my son,
withhold thy child from wickedness, and discipline him ere he wax
great and become contumacious to thee, thus belittling thee
amongst thine equals and lowering thy head upon the highways and
in the assemblies, and thou be described as an aider in his
wrongous works. O dear my son, let no word escape thy lips
without consulting thy heart; nor stand up between two
adversaries, for out of converse with the wicked cometh enmity,
and from enmity is bred battle, and from battle ariseth
slaughter, when thy testimony shall be required; nay, do thou fly
therefrom and be at rest. O dear my son, stand not up against one
stronger than thyself; but possess thy soul in patience and and
long-suffering and forbearance and pacing the paths of piety, for
than this naught is more excellent. O dear my son, exult not over
the death of thy enemy by cause that after a little while thou
shalt become his neighbour. O dear my son, turn thou a deaf ear
to whoso jeereth thee, and honour him and forego him with the
salam-salutation. O dear my son, whenas the water shall stand
still in stream and the bird shall fly sky-high and the black
raven shall whiten and myrrh shall wax honey-sweet, then will the
ignorant and the fool comprehend and converse. O dear my son, an
thou would be wise restrain thy tongue from leasing and thy hand
from thieving and thine eyes from evil glancing; and then, and
then only, shalt thou be called a sage. O dear my son, suffer the
wise man strike thee with his staff rather than the fool anoint
thee with his sweetest unguent.[FN#27] O dear my son, be thou
humble in thy years of youth, that thou may be honoured in thine
old age. O dear my son, stand not up against a man in office and
puissance nor against a river in its violence, and haste not in
matters of marriage; for, an this bring weal, folk will not
appraise thee and if ill they will abuse thee and curse thee. O
dear my son, company with one who hath his hand fulfilled and
well-furnisht and associate not with any whose hand is fist-like
and famisht. O dear my son, there be four things without
stability: a king and no army,[FN#28] a Wazir in difficulty for
lack of rede; amongst the folks villainy and over the lieges
tyranny. Four things also may not be hidden; to wit, the sage and
the fool, the richard and the pauper."[FN#29] Now when Haykar had
made an end of these injunctions and instances addrest to Nadan
his nephew, he fondly deemed in mind that the youth would bear in
memory all his charges, and he wist not that the clean contrary
thereof to him would become manifest. After this the older
Minister sat in peace at home and committed to the younger all
his moneys and his negro slaves and his concubines; his horses
and camels, his flocks and herds, and all other such whereof he
was seized. Also bidding and forbiddal were left in the youth's
hand and he was promoted and preferred by the monarch like his
maternal uncle and even more, whilst the ex-Wazir took his rest
in retirement, nor was it his habit to visit the King save once
after a while, when he would fare forth to salute him with the
salam and forthwith return home. But when Nadan made sure of all
commandment being in his own hand, he jeered in public at his
uncle and raised his nose at him and fell to blaming him whenever
he made act of presence and would say, "Verily Haykar is in age
and dotage and no more he wotteth one thing from other thing."
Furthermore he fell to beating the negro slaves and the
handmaidens, and to vending the steeds and dromedaries and
applied him wilfully to waste all that appertained to his uncle
who, when he saw this lack of ruth for the chattels and the
household, incontinently drove him ignominiously from his place.
Moreover he sent to apprize the King thereof; to wit, that he
would assuredly[FN#30] resume all his belongings and provision;
and his liege, summoning Nadan, said to him, "So long as Haykar,
shall be in life, let none lord it over his household or meddle
with his fortune." On this wise the youth's hand was stayed from
his uncle and from all his good and he ceased to go in to him and
come out from him, and even to accost him with the salam.
Presently Haykar repented of the pains and the trouble he had
taken with Nadan and he became perplext exceedingly. Now the
youth had a younger brother, Naudan[FN#31] hight, so Haykar
adopted him in lieu of the other and tendered him and honoured
him with highmost honour and committed to him all his possessions
and created him comptroller of his household and of his affairs.
But when the elder brother beheld what had betided him, he was
seized with envy and jealousy and he fell to complaining before
all who questioned him, deriding his benefactor; and he would
say, "Verily my maternal uncle hath driven me from his doors and
hath preferred my brother before me; but, an Almighty Allah
empower me, I will indeed cast him into doom of death." Hereat he
fell to brooding over the ruin of his relative, and after a long
while he went, one day of the days, and wrote a letter to Akhyash
Abn\xE1 Sh\xE1h,[FN#32] physician to the King of Persia and \x91Ajam or
Barbaria-land, and the following were its contents. "All salams
that befit and greetings that are meet from part of Sankharib,
King of Assyria and Niniveh, and from his Wazir and Secretary
Haykar unto thee, O glorious monarch, and salutations be betwixt
me and thee. And forthright, when this missive shall have reached
thee, do thou arise in haste and come to meet me and let our
trysting-place be the Buk'at Nisr\xEDn, the Lowland of the
Eglantine[FN#33] of Assyria and Niniveh, that I may commit to
thee the kingdom sans fight or fray." Furthermore he wrote a
second letter in Haykar's name to Pharaoh,[FN#34] lord of
Misraim,[FN#35] with this purport:[FN#36]--"Greetings between me
and thee, O mighty potentate; and do thou straightway, on receipt
of this epistle, arise and march upon the Buk'at Nisrin to the
end that I make over to thee the kingdom without battle or
slaughter." Now Nadan's handwriting was the likest to that of his
mother's brother. Then he folded the two missives and sealed them
with Haykar's signet and cast them into the royal palace, after
which he went and indited a letter in the King's name to his
uncle, saying.--"All salutations to my Wazir and Secretary and
Concealer of my secret, Haykar; and do thou forthright on receipt
of this present levy thy host and all that be under thee with
arms and armour complete, and march them to meet me on
fifth-day[FN#37] at the Buk'at Nisrin. Moreover, when thou see me
approach thee make thy many prepare for mimic onset as they were
my adversaries and offer me sham fight; for that messengers from
Pharaoh, King of Egypt, have been sent to espy the strength of
our armies. Accordingly, let them stand in fear of us, for that
they be our foes and our haters." Presently, sealing this
epistle, he sent it to Haykar by one of the royal pages and
himself carrying the other letters he had addressed to the
Persian and the Egyptian, he laid them before the King and read
them aloud and showed their seals. But when Sankharib heard their
contents he marvelled with mighty great marvel and raged with
exceeding rage and cried out, saying, "What is it I have done
unto Haykar that he should write such a writ to mine adversaries?
Is this my reward for all the benefits I have lavished upon
Haykar?" The other replied, "Be not grieved, O King, and sorrow
not, nor be thou an-angered: rather let us fare on the morrow to
the Buk'at Nisrin and look into the matter, whether it be fact or
falsehood." So when Thursday came, Nadan arose, and taking the
King and his Wazirs and army-officers marched them over the
wastes to the Lowland of the Eglantine, and arrived there
Sankharib, the Sovran, looked upon Haykar and saw his host
aligned in battle against himself. And when the ex-Minister
beheld his King approaching, he bade his host stir for battle and
prepare to smite the opposing ranks; to wit, those of his liege
lord, even as he had been commanded by royal rescript, nor did he
ken what manner of pit had been digged for him by Nadan. But
seeing this sight the monarch was agitated and consterned and
raged with mighty great wrath.  Then quoth Nadan, "Seest thou, O
King, what this sorry fellow hath done? But chafe not, neither be
thou sorrowful, but rather do thou retire to thy palace, whither
I will presently bring to thee Haykar pinioned and bearing
chains; and I will readily and without trouble fend off from thee
thy foe." So when Sankharib hied him home in sore anger with that
which his ancient Minister had done, Nadan went to his uncle and
said, "Indeed the King hath rejoiced with exceeding joy, and
thanketh thee for acting as he bade thee, and now he hath
despatched me to order that thy men be bidden to wend their ways,
and that thou present thyself before him pinioned and fettered to
the end that thou be seen in such plight of the envoys sent by
Pharaoh concerning whom and whose master our Monarch standeth in
fear." "To hear is to obey!" replied Haykar, and forthwith let
pinion his arms and fetter his legs; then, taking with him Nadan,
his nephew, he repaired to the presence, where he found the King
perusing the other forged letter also sealed with the ministerial
signet. When he entered the throne-room he prostrated himself,
falling to the ground upon his face, and the Sovran said to him,
"O Haykar, my Viceregent and Secretary and Concealer of my secret
and Councillor of my kingdom, say me, what have I wrought thee of
wrong that thou shouldst requite me with such hideous deed?" So
saying he showed him the two papers written in the handwriting
and sealed with the seal of the accused who, when he looked upon
them, trembled in every limb, and his tongue was knotted for a
while, nor could he find power to speak a word, and he was reft
of all his reason and of his knowledge. Wherefor he bowed his
brow groundwards and held his peace. But when the King beheld
this his condition, he bade them slay him by smiting his neck
without the city, and Nadan cried aloud, "O Haykar, O blackavice,
what could have profited thee such trick and treason that thou do
a deed like this by thy King?"[FN#38] Now the name of the Sworder
was Ab\xFA Sumayk the Pauper,[FN#39] and the monarch bade him strike
the neck of Haykar in front of the Minister's house-door and
place his head at a distance of an hundred ells from his
body.[FN#40] Hearing this Haykar fell prone before the King and
cried, "Live thou, O my lord the King, for ever and aye! An thou
desire my death be it as thou wilt and well I wot that I am not
in default and that the evil-doer exacteth according to his ill-
nature.[FN#41] Yet I hope from my lord the King and from his
benevolence that he suffer the Sworder make over my corpse to my
menials for burial, and so shall thy slave be thy sacrifice."
Hereat the Monarch commanded the Headsman do as he was desired,
and the man, accompanied by the royal pages, took Haykar, whom
they had stripped of his outer raiment, and led him away to
execution. But when he was certified of coming death, he sent
tidings thereof to his wife, Shaghaft\xEDn\xED[FN#42] hight, adding,
"Do thou forthright come forth to meet me escorted by a thousand
maiden girls, whom thou shalt habit in escarlate and sendal, that
they may keen over me ere I perish; moreover dispread for the
Headsman and his varlets a table of food and bring an abundance
of good wine that they may drink and make merry."[FN#43] Haykar's
wife presently obeyed his orders for she also was ware and wise,
sharp-witted, experienced and a compendium of accomplishments and
knowledge. Now when the guards[FN#44] and the Sworder and his
varlets came to Haykar's door, they found the tables laid out
with wine and sumptuous viands; so they fell to eating and
drinking till they had their sufficiency and returned thanks to
the housemaster.[FN#45] Thereupon Haykar led the Headsman aside
into privacy and said to him, "O Abu Sumayk,[FN#46] what while
Sarhadun the King, sire of Sankharib the King, determined to slay
thee, I took thee and hid thee in a place unknown to any until
the Sovran sent for thee. Moreover I cooled his temper every day
till he was pleased to summon thee, and when at last I set thee
in his presence he rejoiced in thee. Therefore do thou likewise
at this moment bear in mind the benefits I wrought thee, and well
I wot that the King will repent him for my sake and will be wroth
with exceeding wrath for my slaughter, seeing that I be
guiltless; so when thou shalt bring me alive before him thy
degree shall become of the highest. For know thou that Nadan my
nephew hath betrayed me and devised for me this ill device; and I
repeat that doubtless my lord will presently rue my ruin. Learn,
too, that beneath the threshold of my mansion lieth a souterrain
whereof no man is ware: so do thou conceal me therein with the
connivance of my spouse Shaghaftini. Also I have in my prison a
slave which meriteth doom of death:[FN#47] so bring him forth and
robe him in my robes; then bid the varlets (they being drunken
with wine) do him die, nor shall they know whom they have slain.
And lastly command them to remove his head an hundred cubits from
his body and commit the corpse unto my chattels that they inter
it. So shalt thou store up with me this rich treasure of goodly
deeds." Hereupon the Sworder did as he was bidden by his ancient
benefactor, and he and his men repairing to the presence said,
"Live thy head, O King, for ever and aye!"[FN#48] And after this
Shaghaftini, the wife of Haykar, brought meat and drink to her
husband down in the Matamor,[FN#49] and every Friday she would
provide him with a sufficiency for the following week without the
weeting of anyone. Presently the report was spread and published
and bruited abroad throughout Assyria and Niniveh how Haykar the
Sage had been done to die and slain by his Sovran; and the lieges
of all those regions, one and all, keened[FN#50] for him aloud
and shed tears and said, "Alas for thee, O Haykar, and alack for
the loss of thy lore and thy knowledge! Woe be to us for thee and
for thy experience! Where now remaineth to find thy like? where
now shall one intelligent, understanding and righteous of rede
resemble thee and stand in thy stead?" Presently the King fell to
regretting the fate of Haykar whereof repentance availed him
naught: so he summoned Nadan and said to him, "Fare forth and
take with thee all thy friends to keen and make ceremonious
wailings for thy maternal uncle Haykar and mourn, according to
custom, in honour of him and his memory." But Nadan, the fool,
the ignorant, the hard of heart, going forth the presence to show
sorrow at his uncle's house, would neither mourn nor weep nor
keen; nay, in lieu thereof he gathered together lewd fellows and
fornicators who fell to feasting and carousing. After this he
took to himself the concubines and slaves belonging to his uncle,
whom he would scourge and bastinado with painful beating; nor had
he any shame before the wife of his adopted father who had
entreated him as her son; but solicited her sinfully to lie with
him. On the other hand Haykar, who lay perdu in his Silo, ever
praised Allah the Compassionate,[FN#51] and returned thanks unto
Him for saving his life and was constant in gratitude and instant
in prayer and in humbling himself before God. At times after due
intervals the Sworder would call upon him to do him honour due
and procure him pleasure, after which he would pray for his
release and forthright gang his gait. Now when the bruit spread
abroad over all the lands how that Haykar the Wise had been done
to die, the rulers everywhere rejoiced, exulting in the distress
of King Sankharib who sorely regretted the loss of his Sage.
Presently, awaiting the fittest season, the Monarch of Misraim
arose and wrote a writ to the Sovran of Assyria and Niniveh of
the following tenor:--"After salams that befit and salutations
that be meet and congratulations and veneration complete
wherewith I fain distinguish my beloved brother Sankharib the
King, I would have thee know that I am about to build a bower in
the air between firmament and terra firma; and I desire thee on
thy part to send me a man which is wise, a tried and an
experienced, that he may help me to edify the same: also that he
make answer to all the problems and profound questions I shall
propose, otherwise thou shalt deposit with me the taxes in
kind[FN#52] of Assyria and Niniveh and their money-tributes for
three years." Then he made an end of his writ and, sealing it
with his signet-ring, sent it to its destination. But when the
missive reached Sankharib, he took it and read it, he and his
Wazirs and the Lords of his land; and all stood perplext thereat
and sore confounded; whilst the King waxed furious with excessive
fury, and he was distraught as to what he should do and how he
should act. Anon, however, he gathered together all the Shaykhs
and Elders and the Olema and doctors of law and the physicists
and philosophers and the charmers[FN#53] and the astrologers and
all such persons which were in his realm, and he let read the
epistle of Pharaoh in their presence. Then he asked them, saying,
"Who amongst you shall repair to the court of Pharaoh, lord of
Misraim, and reply to his interrogations?" But they cried, "O our
lord the King, do thou know there be no one who can loose the
knot of these difficulties save only thy Wazir Haykar; and now
that none shall offer an answer save Nadan, the son of his
sister, whom he hath informed with all his subtilty and his
science. Therefore, do thou summon him and haply he shall unravel
for thee a tangled skein so hard to untwist." Sankharib did as
they advised, and when Nadan appeared in the presence said to
him, "Look thou upon this writ and comprehend its contents." But
when the youth read it he said to the Sovran, "O my lord the
King, leave alone this folk for they point to impossibilities:
what man can base a bower upon air between heaven and earth?" As
soon as King Sankharib heard these words of Nadan, he cried out
with a mighty outcry and a violent; then, stepping down from his
throne, he sat upon ashes[FN#54] and fell to beweeping and
bewailing the loss of Haykar and crying, "Alas, for me and woe
worth the day for thee, O Caretaker of my capital and Councillor
of my kingdom! Where shall I find one like unto thee, O Haykar?
Harrow now for me, O Haykar, Oh Saviour of my secret and
Manifester of my moot-points, where now shall I fare to find
thee? Woe is me for sake of thee whom I slew and destroyed at the
word of a silly boy! To him indeed who could bring Haykar before
me or who could give me the glad tidings of Haykar being on life,
I would give the half of my good; nay, the moiety of my realm.
But whence can this come? Ah me, O Haykar; happy was he who
looked upon thee in life that he might take his sufficiency of
thy semblance and fortify himself[FN#55] therefrom. Oh my sorrow
for thee to all time! Oh my regret and remorse for thee and for
slaying thee in haste and for not delaying thy death till I had
considered the consequence of such misdeed." And the King
persisted in weeping and wailing night and day on such wise. But
when the Sworder[FN#56] beheld the passion of his lord and his
yearning and his calling upon Haykar, he came to the presence and
prostrated himself and said, "O my lord, bid thy varlets strike
off my head!" Quoth the Monarch, "Woe to thee, what be thy sin?"
and quoth the Headsman, "O my lord, what slave ever contrarieth
the command of his master let the same be slain, and I verily
have broken thy behest." The King continued, "Fie upon
thee,[FN#57] O Abu Sumayk, wherein hast thou gainsaid me?" and
the other rejoined, "O my lord, thou badest me slay the Sage
Haykar; but well I wotted that right soon indeed thou wouldst
regret the death of him, and the more so for that he was a
wronged man; accordingly I fared forth from thee and hid him in a
place unbekncwn to any and I slew one of his slaves in his stead.
And at this moment Haykar is alive and well; and if thou bid me,
I will bring him before thee when, if thou be so minded, do thou
put me to death, otherwise grant me immunity." Cried the King,
"Fie upon thee, O Abu Sumayk, how durst thou at such time make
mock of me, I being thy lord?" but the Sworder replied, "By thy
life and the life of thy head, O my lord, I swear that Haykar is
alive and in good case!" Now when the Monarch heard these words
from the Sworder and was certified by him of the matter, he flew
for very gladness and he was like to fall a-swoon for the
violence of his joy. So he bade forthright Haykar be brought to
him and exclaimed to the Sworder, "O thou righteous slave an this
thy say be soothfast, I am resolved to enrich thee and raise thy
degree amongst all my companions;" and so saying and rejoicing
mightily he commanded the Sworder set Haykar in the presence. The
man fared to the Minister's house forthright, and opening the
souterrain went downstairs to the tenant whom he found sitting
and praising Allah and rendering to Him thanksgivings; so he
cried out and said, "O Haykar, the blessedest of bliss hath come
to thee, and do thou go forth and gladden thy heart!" Haykar
replied, "And what is to do?" whereat the man told him the whole
tale, first and last, of what had befallen his lord at the hands
of Pharaoh; then, taking him, led him to the presence. But when
Sankharib considered him, he found him as one clean wasted by
want; his hair had grown long like the pelts of wild beasts and
his nails were as  vulture's claws and his members were meagre
for the length of time spent by him in duresse and darkness, and
the dust had settled upon him and changed his colour which had
faded and waxed of ashen hue. So his lord mourned for his plight
and, rising up in honour, kissed him and embraced him and wept
over him saying, "Alhamdolillah--laud to the Lord--who hath
restored thee to me on life after death!" Then he fell to
soothing his sorrows and consoled him, praying pardon of him the
while; and after bestowing robes of honour upon the Sworder and
giving him due guerdon and lavishing upon him abundant good, he
busied himself about the recovery of Haykar, who said, "O my lord
the King, may thy head live for ever and aye! All this wrong
which befel me is the work of the adulterines, and I reared me a
palm-tree against which I might prop me, but it bent and brought
me to the ground: now, however, O my lord and master, that thou
hast deigned summon me before thee, may all passion pass away and
dolour depart from thee!" "Blessed and exalted be Allah,"
rejoined Sankharib, "who hath had ruth upon thee, and who, seeing
and knowing thee to be a wronged man, hath saved thee and
preserved thee from slaughter.[FN#58] Now, however, do thou
repair to the Hammam and let shave thy head and pare thy nails
and change thy clothes; after which sit at home in ease for forty
days' space that thy health be restored and thy condition be
righted and the hue of health return to thy face; and then (but
not till then) do thou appear before me." Hereupon the King
invested him with sumptuous robes, and Haykar, having offered
thanks to his liege lord, fared homewards in joyaunce and
gladness frequently ejaculating, "Subh\xE1na 'llahu ta'\xE1l\xE1\x96God
Almighty be glorified!" and right happy were his household and
his friends and all who had learned that he was still on life.
Then did he as the King had bidden him and enoyed his rest for
two-score days, after which he donned his finest dress and took
horse, followed and preceded by his slaves, all happy and
exulting, and rode to Court, while Nadan the nephew, seeing what
had befallen, was seized with sore fear and affright and became
perplexed and unknowing what to do. Now, when Haykar went in and
salamed to the King, his lord seated him by his side and said, "O
my beloved Haykar, look upon this writ which was sent to me by
the King of Misraim after hearing of thy execution; and in very
deed they, to wit he and his, have conquered and chastised and
routed most of the folk of our realm, compelling them to fly for
refuge Egyptwards in fear of the tax-tribute which they have
demanded of us." So the Minister took the missive and, after
reading and comprehending the sum of its contents, quoth he to
the King, "Be not wroth, O my lord: I will repair in person to
Egypt and will return a full and sufficient reply to Pharaoh, and
I will explain to him his propositions and will bring thee from
him all the tax-tribute he demandeth of thee: moreover, I will
restore all the lieges he hath caused fly this country and I will
humiliate every foe of thee by aidance of Almighty Allah and by
the blessings of thy Majesty." Now when the Sovran heard this
answer, he rejoiced and his heart was gladdened; whereupon he
gifted Haykar with a generous hand and once more gave immense
wealth to the Sworder. Presently the Minister said, "Grant me a
delay of forty days that I ponder this matter and devise a
sufficient device." As soon as Sankharib granted him the required
permission he returned homewards and, summoning his huntsmen,
bade them catch for him two vigorous young vultures;[FN#59] and,
when these were brought, he sent for those who twist ropes and
commanded them make two cords of cotton each measuring two
thousand ells. He also bade bring him carpenters and ordered them
to build for him two coffers of large size, and as soon as his
bidding was done he chose out two little lads, one hight Bin\xFAh\xE1l
and the other Tabsh\xE1l\xEDm.[FN#60] Then every day he would let
slaughter a pair of lambs and therewith feed the children and the
vultures, and he mounted those upon the back of these, binding
them tight, and also making fast the cords to the legs of the
fowls. He would then allow the birds to rise little by little,
prolonging the flight every day to the extent of ten cubits, the
better to teach and to train them; and they learnt their task so
well that in a short time they would rise to the full length of
the tethers till they soared in the fields of air with the boys
on their backs, after which he would let hale them down. And when
he saw them perfect in this process, he taught the lads to utter
loud shouts what while they reached the full length of the cords
and to cry out, "Send us stones and mud[FN#61] and slaked lime
that we may build a bower for King Pharaoh, inasmuch as we now
stand here all the day idle!" And Haykar ceased not to accustom
them and to instruct them until they became dexterous in such
doings as they could be. Then he quitted them and presenting
himself before King Sankharib said, "O my lord, the work is
completed even as thou couldst desire; but do thou arise and come
with me that I may show thee the marvel." Thereupon the King and
his courtiers accompanied Haykar to a wide open space outside the
city whither he sent for the vultures and the lads; and after
binding the cords he loosed them to soar as high as the lanyards
allowed in the firmament-plain, when they fell to outcrying as he
had taught them. And lastly he haled them in and restored them to
their steads. Hereat the King wondered, as did all his suite,
with extreme wonderment, and kissing his Minister between his
eyes, robed him in an honourable robe and said to him, "Go forth
in safety, O my beloved, and boast of my realm, to the land of
Egypt[FN#62] and answer the propositions of Pharaoh and master
him by the power of Almighty Allah;" and with these words
farewelled him. Accordingly Haykar took his troops and guards,
together with the lads and the vultures, and he fared forth
intending for Egypt where on arrival he at once made for the
royal Palace. And when the folk of the capital understood that
Sankharib the King had commissioned a man of his notables to
bespeak their Sovran the Pharaoh, they entered and apprized their
liege lord who sent a party of his familiars summoning him to the
presence. Presently Haykar the Sage entered unto Pharaoh; and
after prostration as befitteth before royalty said, "O my lord,
Sankharib the King greeteth thee with many salutations and
salams; and hath sent me singlehanded sans other of his slaves,
to the end that I answer thy question and fulfil whatso thou
requirest and I am commanded to supply everything thou needest;
especially inasmuch as thou hast sent to the Monarch my master
for the loan of a man who can build thee a bower between
firmament and terra firma; and I, by the good aidance of Allah
Almighty and of thine august magnanimity, will edify that same
for thee even as thou desirest and requirest. But this shall be
upon the condition stablished concerning the tax-tribute of
Misraim for three years, seeing that the consent of the Kings be
their fullest securities. An thou vanquish me and my hand fall
short and I fail to answer thee, then shall my liege lord send
thee the tax-tribute whereof thou speakest; but if I bring thee
all thou needest, then shalt thou forward to my lord the
tax-tribute thou hast mentioned and of him demanded." Pharaoh,
hearing these words, marvelled and was perplexed at the eloquence
of his tongue and the sweetness of his speech and presently
exclaimed, "O man, what may be thy name?" The other replied, "Thy
slave is hight Ab\xEDk\xE1m;[FN#63] and I am an emmet of the emmets
under Sankharib the King." Asked Pharaoh, "Had not thy lord one
more dignified of degree than thou, that he sent unto me an ant
to answer me and converse with me?" and Haykar answered, "I
humbly hope of the Almighty that I may satisfy all which is in
thy heart, O my lord; for that Allah is with the weakling the
more to astounding the strangling." Hereat Pharaoh gave orders to
set apart for Abikam his guest an apartment, also for the guards
and all that were with him and provide them with rations and
fodder of meat and drink, and whatso was appropriate to their
reception as properest might be. And after the usual three days
of guest-rite[FN#64] the King of Egypt donned his robes of
brightest escarlate; and, having taken seat upon his throne, each
and every Grandee and Wazir (who were habited in the same hue)
standing with crossed arms and feet joined,[FN#65] he sent a
summons to produce before him Haykar, now Abikam hight.
Accordingly he entered and prostrated in the King's presence and
stood up to receive the royal behest, when Pharaoh after a long
delay asked him, "O Abikam, whom do I resemble and what may these
my Lords and Ministers represent?" Hereto the envoy answered
saying, "O my lord, thou favourest Bel the idol[FN#66] and thy
chief-cains favour the servitors thereof!" Then quoth the King,
"Now do thou depart and I desire thee on the morrow come again."
Accordingly Abikam, which was Haykar, retired as he was ordered,
and on the next day he presented himself before Pharaoh and after
prostrating stood between his hands. The King was habited in a
red coat of various tincts and his mighty men were garbed in
white, and presently he enquired saying, "O Abikam, whom do I
resemble and what may these my Lords and Ministers represent?" He
replied, "O my lord, thou art like unto the sun and thy nobles
are like the rays thereof!" Then quoth the King, "Do thou retire
to thy quarters and tomorrow come hither again." So the other
fared forth and Pharaoh commanded and charged his head men to don
pure white, himself doing the same; and, having taken seat upon
his throne, he bade Abikam be brought into the presence and when
he appeared asked him, "Whom do I resemble, and what may these my
Grandees represent?" He replied, "O my lord, thou favourest the
moon and thy servitors and guards favour the stars and planets
and constellations." Then quoth the King, "Go thou until the
morrow when do thou come hither again;" after which he commanded
his Magnates to don dresses of divers colours and different
tincts whilst he wore a robe of ruddy velvet. Anon he seated him
upon his throne and summoned Abikam, who entered the presence and
prostrated and stood up before him. The King for a fourth time
asked him, "O Abikam, whom do I resemble and what may these my
guards represent?" and he answered, "O my lord, thou art like the
auspicious month Nays\xE1n,[FN#67] and thy guards and grandees are
like the white chamomile[FN#68] and his bloom." Hearing these
words Pharaoh rejoiced with extreme joy and said, "O Abikam, thou
hast compared me first with Bel the idol, secondly with the sun
and thirdly with the moon and lastly with the auspicious month
Naysan, and my lords with the chamomile and his flower. But say
me now unto what likenest thou Sankharib thy lord, and what
favour his Grandees?" Haykar made answer, "Heaven forfend I
mention my liege lord the while thou sittest on thy throne; but
rise to thy feet, and I will inform thee what my Master
representeth and what his court most resembleth." Pharaoh, struck
with astonishment at such heat of tongue and valiancy of speech,
arose from his seat and stood facing Haykar and presently said,
"Now tell me that I may learn what thy lord resembleth and what
his Grandees represent." The other made reply, "My lord
resembleth the God of Heaven, and his lords represent the
Lightning and Thunder. An it be his will the winds do blow and
the rains do fall; and, when he deign order, the leven playeth
and the thunder roareth and at his behest the sun would refuse
light and the moon and stars stand still in their several
courses. But he may also command the storm-wind to arise and
downpours to deluge when Naysan would be as one who beateth the
bough[FN#69] and who scattereth abroad the blooms of the
chamomile." Pharaoh hearing these words wondered with extreme
wonderment, then raging with excessive rage he cried, "O man,
tell me the real truth and let me know who thou art in very
sooth." "I am Haykar," quoth the other, "Chief Secretary and
especial to Sankharib the King; also his Wazir and Councillor of
his kingdom and Keeper of his secret." "Thou statest fact, O
Sage," quoth Pharaoh, "and this thy say is veridical: yet have we
heard that Haykar is dead indeed, withal here art thou alive and
alert." The Minister replied, "Yea, verily that was the case, but
Alhamdolillah--Glory to God, who knoweth all hidden things, my
master had in very deed doomed me die believing the reports of
certain traitors, but my Lord preserved me and well done to him
who relieth upon the Almighty!" Then quoth Pharaoh, "Go forth and
on the morrow do thou return hither and say me somewhat no man
hath ever heard, nor I nor my Grandees nor any of the folk in my
kingdom and my capital." Accordingly Haykar hied him home and
penned a paper wherein he said as follows: "From Sankharib, King
of Assyria and Naynawah, to Pharaoh King of Misraim:--Peace be
upon thee, O my brother! As well thou wottest, brother needeth
brother and the Kings require the aidance of other Kings and my
hope from thee is that thou wilt lend[FN#70] me the loan of nine
hundred-weight[FN#71] of gold which I require to expend on the
pay and allowances due to certain of my soldiery wherewith to
provide for them the necessaries of life." After this he folded
the writ and despatched it by a messenger on the next day to
Pharaoh, who perused it and was perplext and exclaimed, "Verily
and indeed never till now have I heard a saying like unto this at
all, nor hath anyone ever spoken[FN#72] to me after such
fashion!" Haykar replied, "'Tis fact, and 'tis well an thou own
thee debtor of such sum to my lord the King." Pharaoh accepted
this resolving of his proposition and said, "O Haykar, 'tis the
like of thee who suiteth the service of the Kings, and blessed be
Allah who perfected thee in wisdom and adorned thee with
philosophy[FN#73] and knowledge. And now remaineth to us only one
need of thee; to wit, that thou build us a bower between
firmament and terra firma." Haykar replied, "Hearkening and
obeying! I will edify it for thee e'en as thou wishest and thou
choosest; but do thou get ready for me gypsum lime and ashlar-
stone and brick-clay and handicraftsmen, while I also bring
architects and master masons and they shall erect for thee whatso
thou requirest." So King Pharaoh gat ready all this and fared
forth with his folk to a spacious plain without the city whither
Haykar and his pages had carried the boys and the vultures; and
with the Sovran went all the great men of his kingdom and his
host in full tale that they might look upon the wonder which the
Envoy of Assyria was about to work. But when they reached the
place appointed, Haykar brought out of their boxes the vultures
and making fast the lads to their backs bound the cords to the
legs of the birds and let them loose, when they soared firmament-
wards till they were poised between heaven and earth. Hereat the
lads fell to crying aloud, "Send up to us the stones and the mud
and the slaked lime that we may build a bower for King Pharaoh,
forasmuch as here we stand the whole day idle." At this were
agitated all present, and they marvelled and became perplext; and
not less wondered the King and the Grandees his lieges, while
Haykar and his pages fell to buffeting the handicraftsmen and to
shouting at the royal guards, saying, "Provide the workmen with
that they want, nor hinder them from their work!" Whereupon cried
Pharaoh, "O Haykar, art thou Jinn-mad? Who is ever able to convey
aught of these matters to so far a height?" But he replied to the
King, "O my lord, how shall we build a bower in the lift on other
wise? And were the King my master here he would have edified two
such edifices in a single day." Hearing this quoth Pharaoh to
him, "Hie thee, O Haykar, to thy quarters, and for the present
take thy rest, seeing that we have been admonished anent the
building of the bower; but come thou to me on the morrow."
Accordingly, Haykar fared to his lodging, and betimes on the next
day presented himself before Pharaoh, who said to him, "O Haykar,
what of the stallion of thy lord which, when he neigheth in
Assyria and Nineveh, his voice is heard by our mares in this
place so that they miscarry?"[FN#74] Hereat Haykar left the King
and faring to his place took a tabby-cat and tying her up fell to
flogging her with a sore flogging until all the Egyptians heard
her outcries and reported the matter to the Sovran. So Pharaoh
sent to fetch him and asked, "O Haykar, for what cause didst thou
scourge this cat and beat her with such beating, she being none
other but a dumb beast?"[FN#75] He replied, "O my lord the King,
she hath done by me a wrongous deed and she hath amply merited
this whipping and these stripes." The King asked, "And what may
be this deed she did?" whereto Haykar made answer, "Verily my
master Sankharib the King had given me a beautiful cock who had a
mighty fine voice and a strong, and he knew the hours of darkness
and announced them. But as he was in my mansion this mischief-
making tabby fared there and fell upon him last night and tare
off his head; and for this cause when she returned to me I took
to punishing her with such blows and stripes." Pharaoh rejoined,
"O Haykar, indeed I see thou art old and doting! Between Misraim
and Nineveh lie eight hundred and sixty parasangs; so how could
this cat have covered them in one night and have torn off thy
chanticleer's head and have returned by morning to Egypt?" He
replied, "O my lord, seeing that between Egypt and Assyria is
such interval how then can the neighing of my lord the King's
stallion reach unto Nile-land and be heard by your mares so that
here they miscarry?" When Pharaoh had pondered these words, he
knew that the envoy had returned him a full and sufficient reply,
so quoth he, "O Haykar, 'tis my desire that thou make for me two
ropes of sand;" and quoth the other, "Do thou prescribe that they
bring me a cord from thy stores that I twist one like it." So
when they had done as he bade, Haykar fared forth arear of the
palace and dug two round borings equal to the thickness of the
cord; then he collected sand from the river-bed and placed it
therein, so that when the sun arose and entered into the
cylinder, the sand appeared in the sunlight like unto
ropes.[FN#76] Thereupon quoth he to Pharaoh, "Command thy slaves
take up these ropes and I will twist thee as many of them as thou
willest." Quoth Pharaoh, "O Haykar, we have before our eyes a
millstone which is broken; and I require of thee that thou sew up
the rent." Accordingly the Envoy looked about him and, seeing
there another stone, said to Pharaoh, "O my lord, here am I a
stranger man nor have I with me aught of darning-gear; but I
would have thee bid thy confidants amongst the cobblers to
provide me out of this other stone with shoemaker's awls and
needles and scissors wherewith I may sew up for thee the breach
in yon millstone." Hereat Pharaoh the King fell a-laughing, he
and his Grandees, and cried, "Blessed be Allah, who hath
vouchsafed to thee all this penetration and knowledge;" then,
seeing that the Envoy had answered all his questions and had
resolved his propositions he forthright confessed that he was
conquered and he bade them collect the tax-tribute of three years
and present it to him together with the loan concerning which
Haykar had written and he robed him with robes of honour, him and
his guards and his pages; and supplied him with viaticum, victual
and moneys for the road, and said to him, "Fare thee in safety, O
honour of thy lord and boast of thy liege: who like unto thee
shall be found as a Councillor for the Kings and the Sultans? And
do thou present my salam to thy master Sankharib the Sovran
saying, 'Excuse us for that which we forwarded to thee, as the
Kings are satisfied with a scanting of such
acknowledgment.'"[FN#77] Haykar accepted from him all this; then,
kissing ground before him, said, "I desire of thee, O my lord, an
order that not a man of Assyria and Nineveh remain with thee in
the land of Egypt but fare forth it with me homewards." Hereupon
Pharaoh sent a herald to make proclamation of all whereof Haykar
had spoken to him, after which the envoy farewelled the King and
set out on his march intending for the realm of Assyria and
Nineveh and bearing with him of treasures and moneys a mighty
matter. When the tidings of his approach came to the ears of
Sankharib, the King rode forth to meet his Minister, rejoicing in
him with joy exceeding and received him lovingly and kissed him,
and cried, "Well come and welcome and fair welcome to my sire and
the glory of my realm and the vaunt of my kingdom: do thou
require of me whatso thou wantest and choosest, even didst thou
covet one-half of my good and of my government." The Minister
replied, "Live, O King, for ever; and if thou would gift me
bestow thy boons upon Abu Sumayk, the Sworder, whose wise delay,
furthered by the will of Allah Almighty, quickened me with a
second life." "In thine honour, O my beloved," quoth the King, "I
will do him honour;" and presently he fell to questioning his
envoy concerning what had befallen him from Pharaoh and how the
Lord of the Misraim had presented him with the tax-tribute and
moneys and gifts and honourable robes; and lastly, he asked anent
the instances and secrets which ended the mission. So Haykar
related all that had betided, whereat Sankharib rejoiced with
mighty great joy; and, when the converse was concluded, the King
said to him, "O Haykar, take unto thee everything thou wishest
and wantest of all this, for 'tis in the grasp of thy hand."
Haykar answered, "Live, O King, for ever and aye; naught do I
require save thy safety and the permanency of thy rule: what
shall I do with moneys and such like? But an thou deign largesse
me with aught, make over to me in free gift Nadan, my sister's
son, that I requite him for that he wrought with me: and I would
that thou grant me his blood and make it lawfully my very own."
Sankharib replied, "Take him, for I have given to thee that
same." So Haykar led his nephew to his home[FN#78] and bound his
hands in bonds and fettered his feet with heavy chains; then he
beat him with a severe bastinado and a torturing upon his soles
and calves, his back, his belly and his armpits; after which
bashing he cast him into a black hole adjoining the jakes. He
also made Binuhal guardian over him and bade him be supplied day
by day with a scone of bread and a little water; and whenever the
uncle went in to or came forth from the nephew he would revile
Nadan and of his wisdom would say to him, "O dear my son, I
wrought with thee all manner of good and kindly works and thou
didst return me therefor evil and treason and death. O dear my
son, 'tis said in saws, 'Whoso heareth not through his ears,
through the nape of his neck shall he hear.'"[FN#79] Hereat quoth
Nadan, "O my uncle, what reason hast thou to be wroth with me?"
and quoth Haykar, "For that I raised thee to worship and honour
and made thee great after rearing thee with the best of rearing
and I educated thee so thou mightest become mine heir in lore and
contrivance and in worldly good. But thou soughtest my ruin and
destruction and thou desiredst for me doom of death; however, the
Lord, knowing me to be a wronged man, delivered me from thy
mischief, for God hearteneth the broken heart and abaseth the
envious and the vain-glorious. O dear my son,[FN#80] thou hast
been as the scorpion who when she striketh her sting[FN#81] upon
brass would pierce it. O dear my son, thou hast resembled the
Saj\xE1lmah-bird[FN#82] when netted in net who, when she cannot save
herself alive, she prayeth the partridges to cast themselves into
perdition with her. O dear my son, thou hast been as the cur who,
when suffering cold entereth the potter's house to warm himself
at the kiln, and when warmed barketh at the folk on such wise
that they must beat him and cast him out, lest after barking he
bite them. O dear my son, thou hast done even as the hog who
entered the Hammam in company with the great; but after coming
out he saw a stinking fosse a-flowing[FN#83] and went and therein
wallowed. O dear my son, thou hast become like the old and rank
he-goat who when he goeth in leadeth his friends and familiars to
the slaughter-house and cannot by any means come off safe or with
his own life or with their lives. O dear my son, a hand which
worketh not neither plougheth, and withal is greedy and
over-nimble shall be cut off from its armpit. O dear my son, thou
hast imitated the tree whom men hew down, head and branch, when
she said, 'Had not that in your hands been of me,[FN#84] indeed
ye would not have availed to my felling.' O dear my son, thou
hast acted as did the she-cat to whom they said, 'Renounce
robbing that we make thee collars of gold and feed thee with
sugar and almond cake!' But she replied, 'As for me, my craft is
that of my father and my mother, nor can I ever forget it.' O
dear my son, thou art as a dragon mounted upon a bramble-bush,
and the two a-middlemost a stream, which when the wolf saw he
cried, 'A mischief on a mischief and let one more mischievous
counsel the twain of them.' O dear my son, with delicate food I
fed thee and thou didst not fodder me with the driest of bread;
and of sugar and the finest wines I gave thee to drink, while
thou grudgedst to me a sup of cold water. O dear my son, I taught
thee and tendered thee with the tenderest of tending and garred
thee grow like the lofty cedar of Lebanon, but thou didst
incriminate me and confine me in fetters by thine evil
courses.[FN#85] O dear my son, I nourished a hope that thou
wouldst build me a strong tower wherein I might find refuge from
mine adversary and foil my foes; but thou hast been to me as a
burier, a grave-digger, who would thrust me into the bowels of
the earth: however, my Lord had mercy upon me. O dear my son, I
willed thee well and thou rewardedst me with ill-will and foul
deed; wherefore, \x91tis now my intent to pluck out thine eyes and
hack away thy tongue and strike off thy head with the sword-edge
and then make thee meat for the wolves; and so exact retaliation
from thine abominable actions." Hereupon Nadan made answer and
said to Haykar his uncle, "Do with me whatso thy goodness would
do and then condone thou to me all my crimes, for who is there
can offend like me and can condone like thee? And now I pray thee
take me into thy service and suffer me to slave in thy house and
groom thy horses, even to sweeping away their dung, and herd thy
hogs; for verily I am the evil-doer and thou art the beneficent;
I am the sinner and thou art the pardoner." "O dear my son,"
rejoined Haykar, "Thou favourest the tree which, albe planted by
the side of many waters, was barren of dates and her owner
purposed to hew her down, when she said, 'Remove me unto another
stead where if I fruit not then fell me.' But he rejoined, 'Being
upon the water-edge thou gavest ne'er a date, so how shalt thou
bear fruit being in other site?' O dear my son, better the
senility of the eagle than the juvenility of the raven. O dear my
son, they said to the wolf, 'Avoid the sheep lest haply the dust
they raise in flight may do thee a damage;' but Lupus made
answer, 'Verily their dust is a powder good for the eyes.' O dear
my son, they brought the wolf to school that he might learn to
read; but, when quoth they to him, 'Say A, B, C, D,'[FN#86] quoth
he, 'Lamb, Sheep, Kid, Goat,[FN#87] even as within my belly.' O
dear my son, they set the ass's head beside a tray of meats, but
he slipped down and fell to rolling upon his back, for his nature
(like that of others) may never be changed. O dear my son, his
say is stablished who said, 'When thou hast begotten a child
assume him to be thy son, and when thou hast reared a son assume
him to be a slave.'[FN#88] O dear my son, whoso doeth good, good
shall be his lot; and whoso worketh evil, evil shall befal him;
for that the Lord compensateth mankind according to conduct. O
dear my son, wherewith shall I bespeak thee beyond this my
speech? and verily Allah knoweth concealed things and wotteth all
secret and hidden works and ways and He shall requite thee and
order and ordain between me and thee and shall recompense thee
with that thou deservest." Now when Nadan heard these words from
his uncle Haykar, his body began to swell and become like a
blown-up bag and his members waxed puffy, his legs and calves and
his sides were distended, then his belly split asunder and burst
till his bowels gushed forth and his end (which was destruction)
came upon him; so he perished and fared to Jahannam-fire and the
dwelling-place dire. Even so it is said in books:--"Whoever
diggeth for his brother a pit shall himself fall into it and
whoso setteth up a snare for his neighbour shall be snared
therein." And this much know we anent the Say of Haykar the Sage,
and magnification be to Allah for ever and ever Amen.


                    DAUGHTER OF KING KISRA.

In the name of Allah the Compassionating, the Compassionate, we
here indite, by the aidance of the Almighty and His furtherance,
the History of the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and of the Daughter of
Kisra the King.[FN#90]

It is related (but Allah is all-knowing of His secrets and all-
kenning in whatso hath passed and preceded and preterlapsed of
the annals of folk),[FN#91] that the Caliph (by whom I mean Harun
al-Rashid) was sitting on the throne of his kingdom one chance
day of the days which happened to be the f\xEAte of 'Araf\xE1t.[FN#92]
And as he chanced to glance at Ja'afar the Barmaki, he said to
him, "O Wazir, I desire to disguise myself and go down from my
palace into the streets and wander about the highways of Baghdad
that I may give alms to the mesquin and miserable and solace
myself with a sight of the folk: so do thou hie with me nor let
any know of our faring forth." "With love and good will," quoth
Ja'afar. So his lord arose and passed from the audience-room into
the inner palace where the two donned disguise and made small
their sleeves and breasts[FN#93] and issued forth to circle about
the thorough-fares of Baghdad and her market-streets,
distributing charity to the poor and the paupers, until the last
of the day. And whilst so doing, the Commander of the Faithful
chanced to espy a woman seated at the head of a highway who had
extended the hand of beggary, showing at the same time her wrist
and crying, "Give me somewhat for the sake of Allah Almighty!"
Hereat he considered her nicely and saw that her palm and her
wrist were like whitest crystal and yet more brilliant in
brightness. So he wondered thereat, and presently pulling a dinar
from his breast-pocket he handed it to Ja'afar and said, "Bestow
it upon yonder woman." The Minister took the ducat and leaving
his lord went up to her and placed it in her palm; and, when she
closed her fingers thereupon, she felt that the coin was bigger
than a copper or a silverling, so she looked thereat and saw that
it was of gold. Hereupon she called after Ja'afar who had passed
onwards, saying, "Ho, thou fair youth!" and when he came back to
her she continued, "The dinar wherewith thou hast gifted me, is
it for Allah's sake or for other service?" Said he, "'Tis not
from me, nay 'twas given by yonder Youth who sent it through me."
"Ask him," she rejoined, "and tell me what may be his purport."
Ja'afar hied him back to the Caliph and reported her words,
whereat his lord commanded him, "Go back and say thou to her 'tis
for Almighty Allah's sake." The Minister did his master's bidding
when she replied "His reward be upon the Almighty." Then the
Wazir returned and reported the woman's prayer to the Commander
of the Faithful, who cried, "Hie thee to her and enquire an she
be married or virginal; and, if she be unwedded, do thou ask her
an she be willing to wive with me."[FN#94] So Ja'afar fared to
her and questioned her, whereat she answered, "A spinster." Quoth
he, "The Youth who sent the dinar to thee desireth to mate with
thee;" and quoth she, "An he can pay me my dower and my money
down,[FN#95] I will become his bride." Hereat Ja'afar said in his
thought, "whence can the Prince of True Believers find her dower
and her money down? Doubtless we shall have to ask a loan for
him;"[FN#96] and presently he enquired of her what might be the
amount of both. Replied she, "As for the pin-money, this shall be
the annual revenue of Ispah\xE1n, and the income of Khor\xE1s\xE1n-city
shall form the settlement." So Ja'afar wagged his head and going
back to the Commander of the Faithful repeated her terms;
wherewith Harun was satisfied and bespake him, "Hie thee to her
and say, 'He hath accepted this and thou hast professed thyself
contented.'" Hearing his words she rejoined, "What be his worth,
yonder man, and how may he attain unto such sum?" and he
retorted, "Of a truth he is the Commander of the Faithful, Harun
al-Rashid." When this reply reached her ears she veiled her hands
and feet crying, "To Allah be laud and gratitude;" adding to
Ja'afar, "An he be the Prince of True Believers, I am satisfied
therewith." Accordingly the Wazir returned to the Caliph and
reported her consent, whereafter the twain repaired homewards and
the Caliph despatched to her a duenna and a train of handmaidens
who went and bore her to the Hammam within the palace and bathed
her. Then they brought her out and robed her in sumptuous
raiment, such as becometh the women of the Kings, and ornaments
and jewellery and what not: after which they led her to a fine
apartment which was set apart and private for her wherein also
were meat and drink and furniture, arras[FN#97] and curtains and
all necessaries of such sort. In fine they fared to the Caliph
and apprized him of what they had done and he presently gave
command to summon the four Kazis who wrote her marriage-lines.
When it was night he paid her the first visit and taking seat
opposite her he asked, "Daughter of whom mayst thou be amongst
the folk that thou demandedst of me this dower?" "Allah advance
in honour the Commander of the Faithful," answered she; "verily
thy hand-maid is of the seed of Kisr\xE0 Anushirw\xE1n; but the shifts
of time and tide brought me down and low down." Replied he, "They
relate that thine ancestor, the Chosro\xEB, wronged his lieges with
mighty sore wronging;"[FN#98] and she rejoined, "Wherefor and
because of such tyranny over the folk hath his seed come to beg
their bread at the highway-heads." Quoth he, "They also make
mention of him that in after-times he did justice to such degree
that he decided causes between birds and beasts;" and quoth she,
"Wherefor hath Allah exalted his posterity from the highway-head
and hath made them Har\xEDm to the Prince of True Believers."
Hearing this the Caliph was wroth with mighty great wrath[FN#99]
and sware that he would not go in unto her for full told year,
and arising forthright went forth from her. But when the
twelvemonth had passed and the f\xEAte-day of Arafat came round
again, the Commander of the Faithful donned disguise and taking
with him Ja'afar and Masr\xFAr the Eunuch, strolled out to wander
about the streets of Baghdad and her highways. And as they walked
along, the Caliph looked about him and beheld a booth wherein a
man was turning out Kat\xEDfah-cakes[FN#100] and he was pleased to
admire his dexterity to such degree that, returning to the
Palace, he sent him one of his Eunuchs with the message, "The
Prince of True Believers requireth of thee an hundred pancakes,
and let each one of them, when filled and folded, fit into the
hollow of a man's hand." So the Castrato went and gave the order
as we have related and paid the price and, when the pastrycook
had made his requirement, he carried it away to the presence.
Then the Caliph took seat and bade bring sugar and pistachios and
all other such needs wherewith he fell to stuffing the pancakes
with his own hands and placing in each and every a golden dinar.
When this was done he despatched the same Eunuch to Kisra's
daughter with the message, "This night the Commander of the
Faithful proposeth to visit thee, the year of his oath having
expired, and he sendeth to thee saying, 'What is it thy heart
coveteth that he may forward it to thee?'" The Castrato set forth
upon this errand and received for all reply, "Say him my heart
desireth naught, for that all I require is with me nor is there
aught of deficiency." Accordingly, he returned and repeated her
words to the Caliph who bade him fare forth again to her and say
the same to her a second time, whenas she, "Let him send me a
thousand dinars and a duenna in whom he confideth, so that I may
disguise myself and go down with her and distribute gold to the
mean and the mesquin." Presently back came the slave bearing this
reply, whereat the Caliph ordered the moneys be sent to her and
the woman required; and the twain, Princess and duenna, went
forth and threaded the lanes of Baghdad and her great
thoroughfares whilst the young lady distributed her charity to
the Fakirs and the paupers. But when all the gold with her had
been expended and naught of it remained, they turned homewards
making for the Palace; and, the day being sultry, drowthiness
befel the young lady. So she said to her companion, "O mother
mine, I am athirst and want a draught of water to drink;" and
said the other, "We will call aloud to the Water-carrier[FN#101]
who shall give thee thy need." Replied the Princess, "Drinking
from the Waterman's jar will not be pleasant to my heart; nor
will I touch it, for 'tis like the whore[FN#102] whereinto some
man goeth every hour: let the draught of water be from a private
house and suffer that it be given by way of kindness." Hereupon
the old woman looked in front of her and saw a grand gateway with
a door of sandal-wood over which a lamp hung by a silken
cord[FN#103] and a curtain was drawn across it and it had two
benches of marble, the whole under the charge of a goodly
concierge. Then quoth she, "From this house I will ask a drink
for thee." So the two women went forward and stood before the
door and the duenna advancing rapped a light rap with the ring,
when behold, the entrance was opened and came forth a young man
in youthful favour fair and robed in raiments pure and rare and
said, "'Tis well!" Hereat the governante addressed him, "O my
son, indeed this my daughter is athirst and I crave of thy
kindness that thou give her a draught of water, seeing that she
will not drink from the Watercarrier." He replied, "With love and
goodwill;" and going within brought out what was required and
handed the cup to the old woman. She took it and passed it on to
her mistress and the young lady turning her face to the wall
raised her veil and drank her sufficiency without showing a
single feature.[FN#104] After this she returned the cup to the
old woman who took it and handed it back to the young man saying,
"Allah requite thee with all of weal, O my son!" whereto he
replied, "Health to you and healing!"[FN#105] And the two went
their way and returned to the Palace and entered therein. On such
wise fared it with these twain but as regards the Caliph, when he
had finished filling the pancakes, he ranged them in a large
charger of porcelain; then, summoning the Eunuch he said to him,
"Take up this and carry it to the daughter of Kisra and say her,
'Here be the sweetmeats of peace,' and let her know that I will
night with her this night." The Castrato did his lord's bidding;
and carrying the charger to the Princess's apartment handed it to
the duenna and delivered the message, whereupon she blessed and
prayed for the Commander of the Faithful and the slave departed.
Now he was angry and disappointed for that he could not eat one
pancake of them all because they had become big by stuffing and
he feared that if he touched any thereof its place would show
void. Presently it so befel that the young lady said to the old
woman, her governante, "Do thou take up this charger and carry it
to the youth who gave us the draught of water with the intent
that he may not claim an obligation or have aught to desire of
us." Accordingly, the ancient dame took the charger and walked
off with it. But on her way she longed for a Katifah and put
forth her hand to one and took it up when she saw that it left in
the line of pancakes a gap big as a man's palm. Hereat she feared
to touch it and replaced it saying, "'Twill be known that I
carried off one of them." Then after returning the pancake to its
place she passed on with the charger to the door of that young
man whom she suddenly sighted as he sat at the gateway. She
saluted him with the salam which he returned, and then said she,
"O my son, the young lady who drank the water hath sent thee all
these cates in acknowledgment for the draught thou gavest her to
drain." Said he, "Set it down on the door-bench;" and when she
did his bidding, he expressed his thanks to her and she ganged
her gait. Now as the youth still sat there, the Watchman of the
Ward suddenly stood before him blessing him and saying, "O my
lord, this be Arafat-day and to-night will be the Eve of the
'I'd, or Greater Festival; so I hope from the beneficence of my
master the Chamberlain and Emir Alaeddin (whom Allah Almighty
keep and preserve!) that he will deign order me a largesse
befitting the F\xEAte wherewith I may buy sweetmeats for my wife and
children." The other replied, "Take this charger and wend thy
ways therewith;" so the Watchman kissed his hand and carrying it
off went home and showed it to his wife. But she cried, "O thou
miserable,[FN#106] whence gottest thou this charger: hast thou
wilfully stolen it or suddenly snatched it?"[FN#107] Replied her
mate, "This be the property of the Emir Alaeddin, the Chamberlain
(whom Allah preserve!), and he gave it to me as an alms-gift; so
come hither all of you that we eat, for the pancakes look
toothsome." Rejoined his wife, "Art thou Jinn-mad? Up with thee
and sell the charger and cates, for the worth must be some thirty
to forty dirhams which we will lay out for the benefit of the
little ones." He retorted, "O woman, suffer us eat of this food
wherewith the Almighty would feed us;" but she fell to wailing
and crying out, "We will not taste thereof while the children
lack caps and slippers."[FN#108] and she prevailed over him with
her opinion, for indeed women are mostly the prevailers. So
taking up the charger he fared with it to the market-place and
gave it for sale to a broker, and the man began crying, "Who will
buy this charger with whatso is thereon?" Hereat up came the
Shaykh of the Bazar who bid forty dirhams therefor, and a second
merchant raised its price to eighty, when a third hent it in hand
and turning it about espied graven upon the edge, "Made by
commandment of Harun al-Rashid, Commander of the Faithful."
Hereat the trader's wits fled him and he cried to the broker,
"Hast thou a will to work for my hanging in this matter of the
charger?" Quoth the other, "What may be the meaning of these
words?" and quoth the merchant, "This charger is the property of
the Prince of True Believers." The broker, dying of dread, took
the charger and repaired therewith to the Palace of the Caliphate
where he craved leave to enter; and, when this was accorded, he
went in and kissed ground before the presence and blessed the
Commander of the Faithful and lastly showed to him the charger.
But when the Caliph looked at it and considered it carefully, he
recognised it with its contents and he waxed wroth with exceeding
wrath and said in himself, "When I make aught for the eating of
my household, shall it be sent out and hawked about for sale?"
adding to the broker, "Who gave thee this charger?" "O my lord,
'twas the Watchman of one of the wards," replied he; and Harun
rejoined, "Bring him to me hither." So they fared forth and
fetched him bound in cords and saying in his mind, "The whore
would not suffer us eat of that was in the charger and enjoy its
sweetness, so this happened which hath happened to us; we have
eaten naught and have fallen into misfortune." But when they set
him between the hands of the Caliph the latter asked him, "Where
haddest thou yon charger? say me sooth or I will smite thy neck!"
The Watchman answered, "Allah prolong the life of our liege lord!
verily as regards this charger it was given to me by the Lord
Alaeddin, the junior Chamberlain." Hereat the Prince of True
Believers redoubled in rage and cried, "Bring me that Emir with
his turband in tatters, and drag him along on his face and
plunder his home." Accordingly the magnates fared forth with
their pages; and, reaching the house, knocked at the door, when
the owner came out and, seeing the officials, asked, "What is to
do?" "'Tis against thee," replied some of the Grandees, whereto
the Chamberlain rejoined, "Hearkening and obeying Allah and then
the Commander of the Faithful!" After this they bore him to the
Palace of the Caliphate and an Emir of them put forth his hand to
the Chamberlain's coat and tare it and rent his turband adown his
neck saying, "O Alaeddin,[FN#109] this is the behest of the
Prince of True Believers who hath enjoined that we do with thee
on such wise and we despoil thy house: yet there is bread and
salt between us albe we must do as we are bidden, for obedience
to royal behest is of the ways of good breeding." Then they
carried him into the presence of the Caliph and he, after he was
made to stand between the Sovran's hands, kissed ground and
blessed Harun and said, "Allah give aidance to our liege lord and
have him in His holy keeping: what may be the offence of thine
humble slave that he hath merited such treatment as this?" Harun
raised his head and asked, "Say me, knowest thou yon fellow?" and
the other looked and seeing the guardian of the gates corded and
pinioned made answer, "Yes indeed, I know him and he is the
Watchman of our ward." The Caliph resumed, "Whence came to thee
this charger?" and the Chamberlain replied, "Let the Commander of
the Faithful (to whom Almighty Allah vouchsafe furtherance!)
learn that I was sitting at home when there rapped a rap at the
door; and I, going forth to open, beheld an ancient dame who said
to me, 'O my son, this my daughter is athirst and I beg thee of
thy bounty to give her a draught of water for she will not take
drink from the public Sakk\xE1.' So I brought them out their
requirement and they satisfied themselves and went their ways.
After an hour or so I came forth and took seat by my house-door
when behold, up came the old woman bearing in hand yon charger
and said, 'O my son, the person to whom thou suppliedest drink
hath sent this to thee in requital for that thou gavest her of
water inasmuch as she is unwilling to be under an obligation.'
Quoth I, 'Set it down'; when she placed it upon the edge of the
Mastabah-bench and left me. Thereupon suddenly came up this
Watchman and craved from me the Sweetmeat of the Festival,
whereto I answered, 'Do thou take this charger and its contents'
(whereof by the bye I had not tasted aught); and he did so and
departed. This is all I know and--The Peace." Now when the
Commander of the Faithful heard this from the Chamberlain, his
heart was gladdened and he enquired, "O Alaeddin, what time the
young lady drank the draught of water didst thou see her face or
not?" and the Chamberlain replied in haste, "O Prince of True
Believers, indeed I did see it." Hereat Harun was wroth with
exceeding wrath and bade summon the daughter of Kisra and when
she came bade the twain be beheaded saying, "Thou farest forth to
do alms-deeds, and thou durst display thy features to this fellow
when thou drankest water at his hand!" Hereat she turned her
towards Alaeddin and replied, "Thou see my face! Nay, this is but
a lie that may work my death." He rejoined, "The Reed-pen wrote
what 'twas bidden write![FN#110] I designed to say, 'Verily I
beheld naught of her,' and my tongue ran as it did the sooner to
end our appointed life-term." Then having set the twain upon the
rug of blood the Sworder bound their hands and tearing off a
strip from their skirts bandaged their eyes, whereafter he walked
around them and said, "By leave of the Commander of the
Faithful;" and Harun cried, "Smite!" Then the Headsman paced
around them a second time saying, "By leave of the Commander of
the Faithful," and Harun again cried, "Smite!" But when the
executioner did in like manner for the third and last
time[FN#111] quoth he to Alaeddin, "Hast thou haply in heart
aught of regret or requirement that I may fulfil it to thee? Ask
of me anything save release, ere the Commander of the Faithful
say the word and forthright thy head fall before thy feet?" "I
desire," quoth the Chamberlain, "that thou unbind this bandage
from mine eyes so may I look one latest look at the world and at
my friends, after which do thou work thy will." The Sworder
granted this and Alaeddin glanced first to the right where he saw
none to aidance dight, and then to the left where he found all
favour reft; and the spectators each and every hung their heads
groundwards for awe of the Caliph, nor did any take upon himself
to utter a kindly word. Whereupon the Chamberlain cried out his
loudest saying, "A counsel, O Commander of the Faithful!" and
Harun regarding him asked, "What is it thou counsellest?" "A
respite of three days' space," rejoined the condemned, "when thou
shalt see a marvel, indeed a miracle of miracles;" and the Caliph
retorted, "After the third day, an I see not as thou sayest, I
will assuredly smite thy neck;" and bade them bear him back to
gaol. But when the appointed term ended the Caliph sprang up and
in his impatience to see what would befal him donned a dress
distinctive of his new calling,[FN#112] and thrusting his feet
into coarse shoon and high of heel[FN#113] and binding about his
brows a honey-coloured turband[FN#114] he hent in hand a pellet-
bow[FN#115] and slung its case over his shoulders: he also took
gold in pouch and thus equipped he left the palace. Then, as he
roamed about the lanes of Baghdad and her highways, giving alms
and saying in his mind, "Haply may I sight the wonder which the
Chamberlain Alaeddin announced to me," it befel about mid-
forenoon (and he still walking) that behold, a man came forth
from the Kaysar\xEDyah[FN#116] or chief mart of the merchants crying
aloud, "This be a marvel, nay a miracle of miracles." So the
Caliph questioned him saying "What be this wonder thou hast
seen?" and he answered, "Within yon Kaysariyah is a woman who
reciteth the Koran even as it was brought down,[FN#117] and
albeit she have not ceased declaiming from the hour of the dawn-
prayer until this time, yet hath none given her a single dirham:
no, nor even one mite;[FN#118] and what strangeness can be
stranger than this I tell thee?" The Caliph, hearing his words,
entered the mart wherein he descried an ancient dame sitting and
reciting the Koran and she had well nigh reached the end thereof.
He was charmed with the beauty of her lecture and stood there
until she had finished it and had blessed the by-standers, but
when he glanced round he saw nobody give her aught. So he thrust
his hand into his pouch saying in his mind, "Whatso[FN#119] of
coin remaineth in purse shall go to this woman." And he designed
to gift her with the gold when suddenly the old dame sprang from
her seat and going to a merchant's shop took seat beside the man
and said to him, "O my son, dost thou accept of a fair young
lady?" Said he, "Yea, verily," and she continued, "Up with thee
and come that I show thee a thing whose like thou hast never
seen." Now when the Caliph heard her words he said to himself,
"Look at yon foul old crone who playeth bawd when I held her to
be a devotee, a holy woman. Indeed I will not give her aught
until I see what work is wrought by these twain." The trader then
followed the old woman to her home wherein both, youth and crone,
entered and the Caliph who pursued them also went in privily and
took his station at a stead whence he could see without being
seen.[FN#120] Then lo and behold! the old trot called to her
daughter who came forth from the bower wherein she was, and the
Caliph looking at this young lady owned that he had never sighted
amongst his women aught fairer than this, a model of beauty and
loveliness and brilliancy and perfect face and stature of
symmetric grace. Her eyes were black and their sleepy lids and
lashes were kohl'd with Babylonian witchery, and her eyebrows
were as bows ready to shoot the shafts of her killing glances,
and her nose was like unto the scymitar's edge, and her mouth for
magical might resembled the signet-ring of Sulayman (upon whom be
The Peace!), and her lips were carnelians twain, and her teeth
union pearls and her mouth-dews sweeter than honey and more
cooling than the limpid fount; with breasts strutting from her
bosom in pomegranate-like rondure and waist delicate and hips of
heavy weight, and stomach soft to the touch as sendal with plait
upon plait, and she was one that excited the sprite and exalted
man's sight even as said a certain poet in song of her like,

"Breeze-wav\xE8d branch, full moon O' murk or sun of undurn sheeny
     bright, * Which is she hight who all the three hath might to
     place in pauper plight, ah!
Where on the bending branch alight with grace of stature like to
     hers * Tho' be the branch by Zephyr deckt and in its
     ornaments bedight, ah!
And how can fellow\xE8d be her brow with fullest moon that lights
     the darks * When sun must borrow morning light from that
     fair forehead dazzling bright, ah!
Were set in scales the fairest fair and balanced with a long
     compare * heir boasts, thou haddest over-weight for beauty
     and their charms were light, ah!"

Now when he considered her straitly, she captured the whole of
his heart. But the young lady had not upon her clothes enough for
concealment, and here and there her body showed bare; so when she
came forth and espied the young man standing by the old woman she
withdrew into her bower and said to her mother, "Allah
requite[FN#121] thee for that thou hast done. How can it be
allowed thee by the Almighty to set me in this state before a
stranger?" "Hold thy peace," said her parent; "man is allowed to
look, and if he have any art or part in the object looked at 'tis
well; but thereafter if he look without its being his lot, then
'twere unlawful. This youth hath gazed upon thee, and if he prove
to have a portion in thee let him take it, otherwise he may wend
his ways, nor is there a flaw in aught of legal observance."
Hereat the Caliph's heart was cheered, for he knew that the
ancient dame meant to marry the maid. Anon quoth the old mother
to the merchant, "Hast thou seen her?" and quoth he, "Yes." "Did
she please thee?" asked the crone, and he answered, "Yea verily,"
adding, "How much may be her actual marriage-settlement and her
contingent dower?" She replied, "The first shall consist of four
thousand dinars and the second shall be the same."' "This be
overmuch," rejoined the youth, "and more than all my good; to
wit, four thousand gold pieces, the gift of which will send me
forth to beg; but do thou take of me a thousand dinars, and upon
me be the arraying of the house and the maiden's raiment for
another thousand; so will I do business and trade with the
remainder." But the crone sware to him by Allah the
Almighty,[FN#122] that an the four thousand failed of a single
gold piece he should never see of the damsel a single hair. He
replied, "I have no power thereto and--good day to both of you;"
and he made for the door, but the Caliph forewent him to the
street and standing in a corner suffered him to pass and gang his
gait. After this Harun went back to the old woman, and entering
salam'd to her and she, returning his salutation, asked him,
"What dost thou want and what may be thy wish?" He answered, "The
young trader who went forth hence sent me to say that he hath no
intent to wed," and she rejoined, "On this mind the man hied away
from us." Then quoth the Caliph, "I will marry the maid, and by
me is all thou canst desire of gold and what not." She retorted,
"O Robber,[FN#123] all I see upon thee is not worth two hundred
dirhams: whence then canst thou procure four thousand dinars?"
Quoth he, "Hast thou grapes to sell, or wishest thou only to
breed a quarrel between me and the vineyard-keeper?"[FN#124] and
quoth she, "Doubtless I have and hold the grapes." "Then, I
possess all thou canst desire, said he, and said she, "Then, we
will wed thee when thou shalt have weighed out the gold." The
Caliph cried, "I accept;" and anon entering the lodging he took
seat at the head of the chamber and in its place of honour, and
said to the house-mistress, "Go thou to K\xE1z\xED Such-an-one and tell
him that Al-Bunduk\xE1ni requireth him." "O Robber," said she, "will
the Kazi be content to come at thy bidding?" The Commander of the
Faithful laughed at these words and said, "Do thou go without
danger and bid him bring his ink-case and pens and paper." So she
went off saying to herself, "Verily, an the Judge accompany me,
this my son-in-law must be a Captain of Robbers."[FN#125] But
when at last she arrived at the Kazi's mansion she saw him
sitting in the middle of the room and surrounded by doctors of
divinity and a host of learned wights: so she feared to enter,
and fell to looking in through the doorway and she dreaded to
fare farther and stepped backwards; withal she kept saying, "How
shall I go home without speaking a word to the Kazi?" and the
thought would hearten her heart, so she would return to the
entrance and thrust in her head and then withdraw it. On such
wise she had done many a time when the Kazi, catching sight of
her, bade one of his messengers bring her within; so the man went
to her and said, "Bespeak the Kazi!" So she went in full of
affright and salam'd to the Judge who, returning her salutation,
asked her, "What is thy want, O woman?" She answered, "There is a
young man in my house who desireth that thou come to him;"
whereat he rejoined, "And who may be this youth that I in person
should hie to him; and what may be his name?" She replied, "He
pretendeth to the name of Al-Bundukani--the Arbalestrier" (which
was a by-name of the Caliph kept concealed from the folk but well
known to all officials). Hereat the Kazi sprang to his feet
without stay or delay and said to her, "O my lady, do thou forego
me," whilst all present asked him, "O our lord, whither away?"
and he, answering them, "A need hath suddenly occurred," went
forth. Then quoth the crone in her mind, "Hapless the Kazi who is
a pleasant person, haply this son-in-law of mine hath given him
to drink of clotted gore[FN#126] by night in some place or other
and the poor man hath yet a fear of him; otherwise what is the
worth of this Robber that the Judge should hie to his house?"
When they reached the door, the Kazi bade the ancient dame
precede him;[FN#127] so she went in and called to him and he on
entering saw the Caliph seated at the head of the chamber. He
would have kissed ground but Harun signed to him silence with a
wink; so he made his salam and sat him down saying, "'Tis
well,[FN#128] O my lord, what may be thy want?" The Prince of
True Believers replied, "I desire thou marry me to the daughter
of this ancient dame, so do thou write out the writ." Hereupon
the Judge asked the assent of the old woman and of her daughter;
and, when they both granted it, he enquired, "What may be the
amount of the dower?" The mother replied, "Four thousand dinars
of gold and the like sum in ready coin." "Dost thou accept?"
quoth the Kazi to the Caliph, and quoth he, "Yes." Accordingly,
the Judge wrote out the writ upon the skirt of his Farajiyah-robe
for in his agitation he had forgotten to bring paper, and he set
down the name of the Sovran and his father and his grandfather
without question for that he knew them well; after which he
enquired of the old woman her daughter's name[FN#129] and that of
her sire and grandsire. She wailed and cried, "Why and
wherefore?[FN#130] Oh miserable that we are! Had her father been
living how would this Robber have availed to stand at our door,
much less to marry her? but 'twas Death that did with us this
deed." "Allah bless the wronged,"[FN#131] quoth the Kazi and
busied himself with writing out the writ; but whatever question
he put to the crone, she wailed in reply and buffeted her cheeks,
whilst the Judge wagged his head and his heart was like to burst
and the Caliph laughed long and loud. And when the writ was
written and finished, the writer cut off from the skirt of his
gown according to the measure of the writing and gave it to
Harun; then he rose up to fare forth but he was ashamed to wear a
robe in rags, so he stripped it off and said to the old woman, "O
my mother, present this to anyone deserving it." And so saying he
left the house. Hereupon quoth the old woman to the Caliph, "Dost
thou not pay unto the Kazi his fee for coming to thee in person
and writing the writ upon his robe which he was obliged to throw
away?" "Let him go," said the Caliph, "I will not give him
aught." Cried she, "And why? Oh, how greedy are these robbers!
the man came to us in hopes of gain and we have stripped him
instead of robing him." Harun laughed again, then he arose and
said to her, "I now hie me home to fetch thee the gold and the
stuffs wherewith to clothe my bride," and the crone cried out,
"Robber, whence shalt thou find cloth and coin? unhappy some one
whom thou designest to seize and deprive of his daily bread and
reduce to poverty and penury!" The Commander of the Faithful held
his peace and went forth intending for his Palace, where he
donned the royal robes and taking seat upon his throne bade
summon marble-cutters and carpenters and plasterers and house-
painters. Then, as they came to the presence and kissed ground
and blessed him and prayed for the permanence of his empire, he
had them thrown and bade administer to them a bastinado of two
hundred sticks a head.[FN#132] And when they prayed for mercy and
said to him, "O our lord, the Commander of the Faithful, what be
our crime?" he said to the artizans, "The hall such-and-such in
the Darb-al-Z\xE1ji,[FN#133] do ye wot it well?" They replied,
"Yes," and he resumed, "I desire that ye fare thither forthright
and ye repair the walls with marble-slabs and should mid-
afternoon come on and ye leave unfinished a place as big as a
man's palm, I will hack off your hands and place them in lieu
thereof." "O Prince of True Believers," asked they, "how shall we
do seeing that we have no marble?"[FN#134] He answered, "Take it
from the government stores[FN#135] and collect each and every
stone-cutter in Baghdad. But do you all bear in mind that, if the
household enquire who sent you, ye must reply, 'Thy son-in-law;'
and should they demand, 'What is his craft,' say, 'We ken not;'
and when they require to know his name declare it to be Al-
Bundukani. And whoso of you shall speak aught beyond this him
will I crucify." So the master-mason went forth and gathered
together the stone-cutters and took marble and ashlar from the
stores and set the material on the backs of beasts with all other
needs and he repaired to the hall,[FN#136] and entered with his
company. Hereat the old woman asked "What is't ye want?" "We
would slab the floors and walls of this dwelling with marble!"
"And who was it sent you?" "Thy son-in-law!" "And what may be his
business?" "We know not." "Then what is his name?" "A1-
Bundukani," they replied. So she said to herself, "He is naught
but a Robber and Captain of thieves." Then the masons divided and
marked out the ground, and each found that each and every had to
pave and slab a surface of a cubit or less. Such was their case;
but as concerneth the Caliph, he turned him to the chief
Carpenter, and looking at him keenly said, "Go thou likewise and
assemble all thy fellows in the capital: then do thou repair to
the dwelling of Such-an-one and make the doors and so forth, in
fact everything needed of carpentry and joinery, taking thee all
the requisites from the public warehouses; nor let the afternoon
come on ere thou shalt have finished, and if all be not done I
will strike thy neck." He also charged them even as he had
charged the marble-cutters never to divulge his dignity or even
his name other than Al-Bundukani. So the chief Carpenter went
and, gathering his craftsmen, took planks and nails and all his
needs, after which they repaired to the lodging and entered, and
setting up their scaffoldings[FN#137] fell to work while the head
man marked off a task for each hand. But the crone was consterned
and cried to the men, "And why? Who hath sent you?" "Thy son-in-
law!" "And what may be his trade?" "We know not." "Then what may
be his name?" "Al-Bundukani." So they pushed on their work, each
urging his fellow, whilst the old woman well-nigh waxed Jinn-
mad,[FN#138] and said to herself, "This my son-in-law, the
Robber, is naught save a viceroy of the J\xE1nn; and all this is of
their fear, so that none dareth or deemeth it safe to disclose
the craft or even the name of him, so much do they hold him in
awe." Lastly, the Caliph bade the plasterers and house-painters
call a meeting of their brother-craftsmen and go to the
government stores and thence take all their requirements of
quicklime and hemp[FN#139] and so forth; and lastly, charging
them as he had charged the others who forewent them, he said, "As
soon as the Iz\xE1n of mid-afternoon prayer shall be cried, if any
one of you shall have left in the lodging work unwrought, be it
only the size of a man's palm, I will hack off his hand and set
it upon the unfinished stead." Accordingly, they kissed ground
and fared forth carrying with them all their requirements; and,
repairing to the tenement, entered therein and slaked their lime
and set up their ladders, and four or five artificers fell to
working at every wall whilst the house-painters followed them.
But when the ancient dame beheld this, her wits were wildered and
she was utterly bedazed: so said she to her daughter, "This son-
in-law of mine is none save one whose word is heard, and folk
abide in awe of him; otherwise who could work all this work in a
single day whenas none other than himself could have wrought the
same within a twelve-month? But pity 'tis he be a Robber." Anon
she went to the plasterers and said, "Who was it sent you?" "Thy
son-in-law!" "And what may be his trade?" "We know not." "Then
what is his name?" "Al-Bundukani." After this she passed on to
the house-painters and asked the same question and receiving the
same reply, quoth she to one of them, "I demand of thee, by God
the Great, O my son, why thou wilt not disclose to me concerning
my son-in-law his name and his craft?" Thereupon quoth the wight
addressed, "No man hath power to speak out, otherwise his life is
lost;" and she repeated to herself, "Indeed he is none but a
mighty Robber, for that the Moslems one and all dread him and his
mischief."[FN#140] Now when mid-afternoon came, the artizans had
done the whole of their work; so they donned their outer dresses
and went forth intending for the Commander of the Faithful, Harun
the Orthodox. And when they entered all kissed ground and said,
"Under the good auspices of our lord the Prince of True Believers
we have wroughten the work of the house." So he bestowed robes of
honour upon them and gave them gifts that contented them, after
which they fared forth about their business. Then the Caliph
summoned Hamm\xE1ls or porters and set in their crates articles of
furniture such as carpets and counterpanes and sofa-cushions and
hangings of arras and prayer-rugs, besides gear of brass and all
such necessaries for the household; and to this he added two
baskets containing body-raiment and kimcob or gold cloth and
stuffs inworked and studded with gems; also jewellery and
precious stones, pearls and what not: nor did he forget a coffer
containing the eight thousand pieces of gold.[FN#141] Then he
sent them upon their errand, saying, "Take up all this and bear
it to such a house in the Darb al-Zaji and make it over to the
ancient dame who owneth the hall; and when she asketh, 'Who was
it sent you?' do ye answer, 'Thy son-in-law;' and should she
enquire, 'What is his craft?' respond, 'We know it not;' and
should she demand the name, declare, 'Al-Bundukani.' Accordingly
the porters fared forth, and reaching the tenement rapped at the
door, when the old woman came out and cried, "Who knocketh here?"
and they replied "Open and take what we have brought of cloth and
clothes and so forth." But when she looked upon the loads she
wailed and cried, "Indeed ye have wandered from the way: whence
could all this prosperity have befallen us? return with it to the
owner thereof." They asked her, "Is not this hall that which was
builded this day?" And when she answered, "Yes," quoth they,
"Then 'twas hither thy son-in-law sent us." With these words they
went in and set down whatso was with them, but the old woman
wailed and cried aloud, "'Tis not for us: ye have wandered from
your way." "It is for you, indeed," they rejoined, "and thy son-
in-law saith, 'Adorn your dwelling and don the stuffs and dress
therewith whomso you choose:' as for him, he hath much business
yet will he come to you what time the folk sleep." "Yes, indeed,"
quoth she to herself, "Robbers never do come save by night." And
when the Hammals went their ways the old woman fared forth to her
neighbours and summoned them to assist her in ranging the
furniture and vaiselle;[FN#142] so they gathered together and
entered; and, when they beheld what had befallen, their eyes were
dazed and dazzled by seeing the restoration of the hall and by
the stuffs and vases therein. So they asked her, "Whence camest
thou by all this, and who set for thee this dwelling in such
condition and at what time? Yesterday 'twas a ruin and showed
neither marble nor whitewash nor stencilling. Can it not be that
we are sleeping and haply that we see a dream-house?" She
replied, "No vision is this, but evidence of eye-sight: and what
work ye behold was wrought by my son-in-law during this one day
and to-day also he sent me these stuffs and other matters whereon
ye look." "And who may be thy son-in-law?" asked they, "and when
didst thou wed thy daughter while we wotted naught thereof?"
Answered she, "To-day all this happened;" and they rejoined, "And
what may be the bridegroom's calling? haply he is a mighty
merchant or an Emir." "Nor merchant nor Emir," quoth she, "but a
Robber and the Head and Captain of Bandits!" Hereat the women
were startled and cried, "Allah upon thee, do thou charge him
anent us that he plunder not aught from our houses, seeing that
we have a claim of neighbourhood and gossipry upon you." "Never
fear," she replied, "he is not wont to take aught of neighbours
albeit he be a Viceregent of the Jann." So their hearts were
heartened, and they fell to ordering the furniture and
decorations; and, when they had ended the ordinance of the house,
they applied themselves to dressing the bride; and they brought
her a tirewoman and robed her in the finest robes and raiment and
prepared her and adorned her with the choicest ornaments. And
while they did thus behold, up came other porters carrying crates
of meat, such as pigeon-poults and poultry, Kat\xE1s,[FN#143] and
quails,[FN#144] lambs and butcher's meat, clarified butter and
other cooking material, with all manner of edibles and delicacies
such as sugar and Halw\xE1-confections and the like thereof. The
Hammals then said to the household, "'Take ye this which your
son-in-law hath sent to you saying, 'Do ye eat and feed your
neighbours and whomso ye please.'" Quoth the old woman, "I ask
you, for Allah's sake, to let me know what may be my son-in-law's
craft and his name;" and quoth they, "His name is Al-Bundukani,
but what his business may be we know not;" and so saying they
went their ways. Hereupon exclaimed certain of the women who were
present, "By the Apostle, he is naught but a robber;" while
others who had claims upon the old housemistress cried, "Be
whatever may be, before the man who can do after this fashion all
the folk in Baghdad are helpless." Presently they served the
provision and all ate their sufficiency; then they removed the
trays and set on others loaded with the confections which they
also enjoyed; and at last after dividing the orts amongst the
neighbours they reserved some of the best of meats and sweetmeats
for the bridegroom's supper. In due time a report was bruited
about the quarter that the old woman had wedded her daughter with
a robber who had enriched them with what booty he had brought
them. And these tidings spread from folk to folk till they
reached the young merchant of whom mention hath been made, the
same who had sought the maiden to wife and who had not wedded her
because refused by her mother. Also he was told that the damsel
had been married to a robber who had rebuilt the hall with
marble, and the plasterers and painters and carpenters and
joiners had wrought therein works which astounded the beholders;
moreover that the bridegroom had sent them of stuffs and
jewellery a matter beyond count or compute. Hearing this report
he found the matter grievous on him and the fire of envy flamed
in his heart and he said to himself, "Naught remaineth to me
except that I wend me to the W\xE1l\xED[FN#145] and tempt him with
promises and thereby work the ruin of this robber and take the
damsel to myself." With these words he rose up sans stay or delay
and, going to the Chief of Police related to him all that
occurred and promised him a muchel of money, saying, "Whatso thou
wantest can be gotten from this robber inasmuch as he owneth good
galore." The Wali rejoiced and replied, "Be patient until after
supper-tide when the thief shall have returned home and we will
go and catch him and thou shalt carry away the young lady." So
the trader blessed him and took himself off and waited at home
until it was supper-time and the streets were void of folk.
Presently N\xE1z\xFAk[FN#146] the Wali mounted horse with four hundred
headsmen and smiters of the sword, link-boys and low
fellows,[FN#147] bearing cressets and paper-lanthorns under four
head constables and rode to the house of the old woman. Now all
the gossips had departed to their abodes and were dispersed, nor
did one of them remain behind; but the household had lighted wax
candles and was expecting the bridegroom with bolted doors when
behold, the Chief of Police came up and finding all shut bade his
men knock with an easy rap. This was heard by those within the
hall and the ancient dame sprang up and went to the entrance,
whence she espied gleams of light athwart the door-chinks and
when she looked out of the window she saw the Wali and his merry
men crowding the street till the way was cut. Now the Chief had a
lieutenant Sham\xE1mah[FN#148] hight, which was a meeting-place of
ill manners and morals; for naught was dearer to him save the
straitening of a Moslem, nor was there upon his body a single
hair which affected or aided the veiling of Allah.[FN#149] Brief
he was, even as the poet said,

"Whoreson and child of thousand pagans twain; * Son of the Road
     to lasting sin and bane;
The Lord of Ruth ne'er grew him e'en a hair * Was not with this
     or that of contact fain!"[FN#150]

Now this man, who was standing beside the Chief of Police, seized
the opportunity of saying, "O Emir, what booteth our standing
idle in this stead? Better 'twere that we break down the door and
rush in upon them and snatch what we want and loot all the stuffs
in the house." Hereat came forward another lieutenant who was
called Hasan[FN#151]--the Handsome--for that his face was fair
and his works were fairer and he was a meeting-place of fairest
deeds; and the same was wont to stand at the Wali's door as a
symbol of ruth to mankind. So he came forward and said, "O Emir,
this were not the rede which is right and yonder man's words lack
good counsel, seeing that none hath complained against this folk
and we know not an the accused be a thief or not: furthermore we
fear consequences for that haply this merchant speaketh with an
object, they having forbidden his marrying the girl: do not
therefore cast thyself into that shall harm thee, but rather let
us enquire anent the matter openly and publicly; and should it
prove to be as reported, then the Emir's opinion shall prevail."
All this took place while the old woman heard from behind the
door whatso they said. Hereat she dried up with dread and
affright and going within acquainted her daughter with what had
occurred and ended with, "The Wali still is standing at the
door." The young lady was sore terrified and said to her mother,
"Do thou bar[FN#152] the entrance till Allah haply deign bring us
comfort." So the old woman fared forth and bolted and barred it
yet more straitly; and when they knocked a second time she
acknowledged the rap by "Who is at the door?" and the lieutenant
Shamamah replied to her and said, "O ill-omened old woman, O
accomplice of robbers, knowest thou not that he who rappeth is
the Master of Police and his young men? So open to us
forthright." Quoth she, "We be Har\xEDms and ne'er a man with us,
therefore we will not open to any;" and quoth he, "Open, or we
will break it down." The old woman made no reply but returning to
her daughter within said to her, "Now look at this Robber and how
from the first of this night we have been humbled for his sake:
yet had he fallen into this trap his life had been taken, and
would Heaven he may not come now and be made prisoner by them. Ah
me! Were thy father on life the Wali never had availed to take
station at our house-door or the door of any other." "Such be our
lot," replied the girl, and she went to the casement that she
might espy what was doing. This is how it fared with them; but as
concerneth the Caliph, when the folk had finished crowding the
streets he disguised himself and hending in hand his pellet-bow
and slinging his sword over his shoulder he went forth intending
for his bride. But when reaching the head of the street he saw
lanthorns and stir of crowd:[FN#153] so he approached to look and
he espied the Wali and his men with the merchant standing by the
Chief's side together with the lieutenants, all save one
shouting, "Break down the door and rush in and seize the old
woman: then let us question her with torture until she confess
where be her Robber of a son-in-law." But Hasan the fourth
officer dissuaded them saying, "O good folk, do ye fear Almighty
Allah and be not over hasty, saving that hurry is of old Harry.
These be all women without a man in the house; so startle them
not; and peradventure the son-in-law ye seek may be no thief and
so we fall into an affair wherefrom we may not escape without
trouble the most troublous." Thereupon Shamamah came up and cried
out, "O Hasan, it ill becometh thee to stand at the Wali's door:
better 'twere for thee to sit on the witness-bench; for none
should be gate-keepers to a head policeman save they who have
abandoned good deeds and who devour ordure[FN#154] and who ape
the evil practices of the populace." All this and the Caliph
overheard the fellow's words and said to himself, "'Tis well! I
will indeed gladden thee, O Accurst." Then he turned and espied a
street which was no thoroughfare, and one of its houses at the
upper end adjoined the tenement wherein was his bride; so he went
up to it and behold, its gateway showed a curtain drawn across
and a lamp hung up and an Eunuch sitting upon the door-bench. Now
this was the mansion of a certain noble who was lord over a
thousand of his peers and his name was the Emir Y\xFAnas:[FN#155] he
was an angry man and a violent; and on the day when he had not
bastinado'd some wight he would not break his fast and loathed
his meat for the stress of his ill-stomach. But when the Eunuch
saw the Caliph he cried out at him and sprang up to strike him
exclaiming, "Woe to thee! art thou Jinn-mad? whither going?" But
the Commander of the Faithful shouted at him saying, "Ho! thou
ill-omened slave!" and the chattel in his awe of the Caliphate
fancied that the roar was of a lion about to rend him and he ran
off and entered the presence of his owner quivering with terror.
"Woe to thee!" said his master; "what hath befallen thee?" and
he, "O my lord, the while I was sitting at the gate suddenly a
man passed up the street and entered the house-door; and, when I
would have beaten him, he cried at me with a terrible voice
saying, 'Ho, thou ill-omened slave!' So I fled from him in
affright and came hither to thee." Now when the Emir Yunas heard
his words, he raged with such excessive rage that his soul was
like to leave his body and he cried out saying, "Since the man
addressed thee as 'ill-omened slave,' and thou art my chattel, I
therefore am servile and of evil-omen. But indeed I will show him
his solace!" He then sprang to his feet and hent in hand a file-
wrought mace[FN#156] studded with fourteen spikes, wherewith had
he smitten a hill he had shivered it; and then he went forth into
the street muttering, "I, ill-omened!"[FN#157] But the Caliph
seeing him recognised him straitway and cried, "Yunas!" whereat
the Emir knew him by his voice, and casting the mace from his
hand kissed ground and said, "'Tis well, O Commander of the
Faithful!" Harun replied, "Woe to thee, dog! whilst thou art the
Chief of the Emirs shall this Wali, of men the meanest, come upon
thy neighbours and oppress them and terrify them (these being
women and without a man in the house), and yet thou holdest thy
peace and sittest in ease at home nor goest out to him and
ejectest him by the foulest of ejections?" Presently the other
replied, "O Prince of True Believers, but for the dread of thee
lest thou say, 'This be the warder of the watch, why hast thou
exceeded with him?' I would have made for him a night of the
fulsomest, for him and for those with him. But an the Caliph
command I will forthright break them all to bits nor leave
amongst them a sound man; for what's the worth of this Wali and
all his varlets?" "First admit us to thy mansion," quoth the
Commander of the Faithful; so they passed in and the housemaster
would have seated his visitor for the guest-rite but he refused
all offers and only said, "Come up with us to the terrace-roof."
Accordingly they ascended and found that between it and the
dwelling of the bride was but a narrow lane; whereupon quoth the
Caliph, "O Yunas, I would find a place whence I can look down
upon these women." "There is no other way," quoth the other,
"save herefrom; and, if thou desire, I will fetch thee a
ladder[FN#158] and plant it in such wise that thou canst pass
across." "Do so," rejoined the other, and the Emir bringing a
ladder disposed it after bridge fashion that the Caliph crossed
over the lane to the house on the other side. Then quoth he, "Go
sit thee in thy stead, and when I want thee I will call." Yunas
did as he was bidden and remained on the watch for his lord's
summons. But the Prince of True Believers walked over the
terrace-roof with the lightest tread and not audible, lest his
footsteps frighten the inmates, till he came to the
parapet[FN#159] and looking adown therefrom upon the hall he saw
a site like the Garden of Paradise which had been newly pranked
and painted, whilst the lighted wax-candles and candelabra showed
the young lady, the bride, sitting upon her bedstead adorned with
gems and jewellery. She was like a Sun shedding sheen in sky
serene, or a full moon at the fullest seen, with brow flower-
bright and eyes black and white and beauty-spots fresh as greenth
to the sight; brief she was as one of whom the poet saith,

"She's a wonder! her like none in universe see, * For beauty and
     graces and softest blee:
That fairest of blossoms she blooms on earth * Than gardens the
     sheeniest sheenier she:
And soft is the rose of her cheek to the touch * 'Twixt apple's
     and Eglantine's lenity,
And the forelock-falls on the brow of her * Death-doom to the
     World and the Faith decree;
And she shames the branchlet of Basil when * She paces the Garden
     so fair and free.
An water doubted her soft sweet gait * She had glided with water
     o'er greenery:
When she walketh the world like the H\xFAr al-Ayn[FN#160] * By the
     tongue of looks to her friends say we:--
'O Seeker, an soughtest the heart of me * Heart of other thou
     never hadst sought for thee:
O lover, an filled thee my love thou ne'er * 'Mid lovers hadst
     dealt me such tyranny.
Praise Him who made her an idol for man * And glory to Him who to
     her quoth 'BE'!'"

The Caliph was astonishment-struck at what he sighted of her
beauty and loveliness whilst her mother stood before her saying,
"O my child, how shall be our case with these tyrants,[FN#161]
especially we being women and sans other recourse save Allah
Almighty? Would Heaven I wot whence came to us this Robber who,
had thy sire been on life, would have been far from able to stand
at the door. But this is the doom of Destiny upon us by God's
will." Replied the young lady, "O mother mine, and how long wilt
thou put me to shame for this young man and call him 'Robber,'
this whom the Almighty hath made my portion; and haply had he
been a good man and no thief he had been given to some
other?[FN#162] However he is my lot, and lauds to the Lord and
gratitude for that He hath bestowed and made my portion." When
the ancient dame heard these words she pursued, "I hope to
Heaven, O my daughter, that thy portion may not come hither this
night, otherwise sore I fear they will seize him and do him a
harm and well-away for his lost youthtide!" All this took place
between mother and daughter whilst the Caliph stood upon the
terrace-roof listening to their say, and presently he picked up a
pebble the size of a vetchling[FN#163] and, setting it between
his thumb and forefinger, jerked it at the wax candle which
burned before the young lady and extinguished the light. "Who put
out yon taper?" cried the old woman, "and left the others afire?"
and so saying she rose and lighted it again. But Harun took aim
at that same and jerking another pebble once more extinguished it
and made her exclaim, "Ah me! what can have put out this also?"
and when the quenching and quickening were repeated for the third
time she cried with a loud voice saying, "Assuredly the air must
have waxed very draughty and gusty; so whenever I light a candle
the breeze bloweth it out." Hereat laughed the young lady and
putting forth her hand to the taper would have lit it a third
time when behold, her finger was struck by a pebble and her wits
fled her head. But as the mother turned towards the terrace-wall
the first glance showed to her sight her son-in-law there
sitting, so she cried to her daughter "O my child, behold thy
bridegroom whence he cometh unto thee, but robbers arrive not
save by the roof, and had he not been a housebreaker he would
have entered by the door. However Alhamdolillah that he hath
chosen the way of our terrace, otherwise they had captured him;"
presently adding, "Woe to thee, O miserable, fly hence or the
watch at the door shall seize thee and we women shall not avail
to release thee after thou fallest into their hands; nor will any
have ruth upon thee; nay, they will cut off at least one of thine
extremities. So save thyself and vanish so as not to lapse into
the grip of the patrol." But hearing these her words he laughed
and said to her, "Do thou open to me the terrace-wicket that I
come down to you and see how to act with these dogs and dog-
sons." She replied, "Woe to thee, O miserable, deemest thou these
be like unto that poor Kazi who snipped his gown in fear of thee:
he who now standeth at the door is Nazuk Wali and hast thou
authority over him also?" He repeated, "Open to me that I may
come down, otherwise I will break in the door;" so she unbolted
the terrace-wicket and he descended the stairs and entered the
hall where he took seat beside his bride and said, "I am an-
hungered; what have ye by way of food?" The ancient dame cried,
"And what food shall go down grateful to thy stomach and pleasant
when the police are at the door?" and he replied, "Bring me what
ye have and fear not." So she arose and served up to him whatso
remained of meat and sweetmeat and he fell to morselling[FN#164]
them with mouthfuls and soothing them with soft words till they
had their sufficiency of victual, after which she, the mother-in-
law, removed the tray. Meanwhile the Chief of Police and his
varlets stood shouting at the door and saying, "Open to us,
otherwise we will break in." Presently quoth the Caliph to the
old trot, "Take this seal-ring and go thou forth to them and
place it in the Wali's hands. An he ask thee, 'Who is the owner
of this signet?' answer thou, 'Here is he with me;' and if he
enquire of thee, 'What doth he wish and what may he want?' do
thou reply, 'He requireth a ladder of four rungs and its gear,
not forgetting a bundle of rods;[FN#165] also do thou, O man,
enter with four of thy lieutenants and see what else he
demandeth.'" When the ancient dame heard this from him she
exclaimed, "And doth the Wali also dread thee or fear this seal-
ring? My only fear is that they may now seize me and throw me and
beat me with a bastinado so painful that it will be the death of
me, and they hearken not to a word of mine, nor suffer thee to
avail me aught." Rejoined the Caliph, "Be not alarmed, he shall
not be able to gainsay my word;" and she, "An the Wali fear thee
and give ear to thee, then will I gird my loins and suffer thee
to teach me something of thy craft even were it that of robbing
slaves' shoon." "Go forth without affright," said he laughing at
her words, whereupon she took the seal-ring and went as far as
behind the door and no farther, muttering to herself, "I will not
open it wholly but only a little so as to give them the signet;
then if they hearken to what saith this Robber 'tis well,
otherwise I will keep the bolt fastened as it was." Presently she
went forward and addressed the watch saying, "What is it ye
want?" and Shamamah cried in reply, "O ill-omened old baggage, O
rider of the jar,[FN#166] O consorter of thieves, we want the
robber who is in thy house that we may take him and strike off
his hand and his foot; and thou shalt see what we will do with
thee after that." She shrank from his words, but presently she
heartened her heart and said to him, "Amongst you is there any
who can read a whit?" "Yes," said the Wali, and she rejoined,
"Take thou this seal-ring and see what be graven thereupon and
what may be its owner's name." "Almighty Allah curse him," cried
the lieutenant Shamamah, presently adding to the Wali, "O Emir,
as soon as the old crone shall come forth I will throw her and
flog her with a sore flogging; then let us enter the door and
slay her and harry the house and seize the robber; after which I
will inspect the signet and find out its owner and who sendeth
it; then, if this be one of whom we stand in shame we will say,
'Indeed we read not its graving before the command was somewhat
rashly carried out.' On this wise none may avail to molest us or
thee." Hereupon he drew near the door and cried to her, "Show me
that thou hast, and perhaps the sending it may save thee." So she
opened one leaf of the door sufficient to thrust out her hand and
gave him the ring which he took and passed to the Chief of
Police. But when the Wali had considered and read the name
engraved (which was that of the Commander of the Faithful, Harun
the Orthodox), his colour waxed wan and his limbs quaked with
fear. "What is to do with thee?" asked Shamamah, and the other
answered, "Take and look!" The man hent the ring in hand and
coming forward to the light read what was on it and understood
that it was the signet of the Vicar of Allah. So a colick[FN#167]
attacked his entrails and he would have spoken but he could
stammer only "B\xED, B\xED, B\xED"[FN#168] whereupon quoth the Master of
Police, "The rods of Allah are descending upon us, O accurst, O
son of a sire accurst: all this is of thy dirty dealing and thy
greed of gain: but do thou address thy creditor[FN#169] and save
thyself alive." Hereat quoth Shamamah "O my lady, what dost thou
require?" and quoth she to herself, "Indeed I am rejoiced for
that they dread my son-in-law;" and presently she spoke aloud to
him and said, "The lord of the seal-ring demandeth of thee a
ladder of four rungs, a bundle of rods and cords and a bag
containing the required gear,[FN#170] also that the Wali and his
four lieutenants go within to him" He replied, "O my lady chief
of this household, and where is he the owner of the signet?"
"Here is he seated in the hall," she replied and the Wali
rejoined, "What was it he said to thee?" She then repeated the
command about the Wali and the men and the bag, whereat he asked
again concerning the whereabouts of the signet-owner and declared
the gear to be ready, while all of them bepiddled their bag-
trousers with fear.[FN#171] Then the Wali and his four
lieutenants, amongst whom was Shamamah the Accurst, entered the
house, and the Caliph commanded lieutenant Hasan (knowing him for
a kindly man of goodly ways and loath to injure his neighbour as
proved by his opposing the harshness of Shamamah), saying, "Hie
thee, O Hasan, and summon forthright Yunas the Emir of a
thousand!" So this lord came in all haste[FN#172] and was bidden
to bastinado the Wali and Shamamah which he did with such good
will that the nails fell from their toes; after which they were
carried off and thrown into gaol. Then the Caliph largessed
lieutenant Hasan; and, appointing him on the spot Chief of
Police, dismissed the watch to their barracks. And when the
street was cleared the old woman returning to the Harem said to
her son-in-law, laughing the while, "There be none in this world
to fellow thee as the Prince of Robbers! The Wali dreadeth thee
and the Kazi dreadeth thee and all dread thee, whilst I gird my
loins in thy service and become a she-robber amongst the women
even as thou art a Robber amongst men, and indeed so saith the
old saw, 'The slave is fashioned of his lord's clay and the son
after the features of his sire.' Had this Wali, at his first
coming, let break down the door and had his men rushed in upon us
and thou not present, what would have been our case with them?
But now to Allah be laud and gratitude!" The Caliph hearing these
words laughed, and taking seat beside his bride, who rejoiced in
him, asked his mother-in-law, "Say me, didst ever see a Robber
who bore him on this wise with the Wali and his men?" and
answered she, "Never, by the life of thee, but may Allah Almighty
reprehend the Caliph for that he did by us and punish him for
wronging us, otherwise who was it forwarded thee to us, O
Robber?" Quoth the Commander of the Faithful in his mind, "How
have I wronged this ill-omened old woman that she curseth me?"
and presently he asked her, "And wherein hath the Caliph done
thee an injury?" She replied, "And what hath the Caliph left us
of livelihood and so forth when he marauded our mansion and
seized all our seisins? Even this hall was part of the plunder
and they laid it waste after taking from it all they could of
marble and joinery and what-not; and they left us paupers, as
thou sawest, without aught wherewith to veil us and naught to
eat. So had it not been that Almighty Allah favoured us with
thyself, O Robber, we had been of the destroyed by famine and so
forth." "And wherefore did the Caliph plunder you?" asked he,
"and what was the cause of his so doing?" She answered,[FN#173]
"My son was a Chamberlain of the Commander of the Faithful, and
one day as he was sitting in this our home two women asked him
for a draught of water which he gave to them. Presently the elder
brought him a porcelain charger full of pancakes with the tidings
that it had been sent as a return gift from the young lady her
companion who had drunk from his hand; and he replied, 'Set it
down and wend thy ways,' which she did. Presently as my son sat
outside his door, the Watchman came up to offer blessings on the
occasion of the Greater Festival and he gave him the charger and
the man fared forth; but ere an hour had sped, folk came who
marauded our mansion, and seizing my son, carried him before the
Caliph, who demanded of him how the charger had come to his
hands. He told him what I have told thee, and the Commander of
the Faithful asked him, 'Say me sawest thou aught of the charms
of the young lady?' Now my son had on his lips to say No, but his
tongue foreran him and he stammered out, 'Yes, I espied her
face,' without really having seen her at all, for that when
drinking she had turned to the wall. The Caliph hearing this
hapless reply summoned the lady and bade smite both their necks,
but in honour of the Festival-eve he had them carried off to
prison. Such be then the reason of the wrong by the Caliph
wrought, and except for this injustice and his seizure of my son,
O Robber, it had been long ere thou hadst wedded my daughter."
When the Prince of True Believers heard the words of her, he said
in his mind, "Verily I have oppressed these unhappiest" and he
presently asked her, "What wilt thou say if I cause the Caliph to
free thy son from gaol and robe him and return his fiefs to him
and promote him in the Chamberlain's office and return him to
thee this very night?" Hereat the old woman laughed and made
answer, "Hold thy peace! This one is no Chief of Police that he
fear thee and thou work on him whatso thou willest: this one is
the Prince of True Believers Harun al-Rashid, whose behest is
heard both in Orient and in Occident, the lord of hosts and
armies, one at whose gate the lowest menial is higher in degree
than the Wali. Be not therefore beguiled by whatso thou hast
done, nor count the Caliph as one of these lest thou cast thyself
into doom of destruction, and there be an end of thy affair,
while we unfortunates abide without a man in the house, and my
son fail of being righted by him who wronged him." But when the
Commander of the Faithful heard these words, his eyes brimmed
with tears for ruth of her; then, rising without stay or delay,
he would have fared forth when the old woman and the young lady
hung about his neck crying, "We adjure thee, by Almighty Allah,
that thou draw back from this business, for that we fear greatly
on thy account." But he replied, "There is no help therefor," and
he made oath that perforce he must go. Then he fared for the
Palace of his kingship, and seating himself upon the throne bade
summon the Emirs and Wazirs and Chamberlains, who flocked into
the presence and kissed ground and prayed for him saying, "'Tis
well, Inshallah! and what may be the reason for calling us
together at this time o' night?" Said he, "I have been pondering
the affair of Alaeddin the Emir, the Chamberlain, how I seized
him wrongfully and jailed him, yet amongst you all was not a
single one to intercede for him or to cheer him with your
companionship." They bussed ground and replied, "Verily we were
awe-struck by the majesty of the Prince of True Believers; but
now at this hour we implore of the Commander of the Faithful his
mercy upon his slave and chattel;" and so saying, they bared
their heads and kissing the floor did humble obeisance. He
replied, "I have accepted[FN#174] your intercession on his
account, and I have vouchsafed to him pardon; so hie ye to him
and robe him with a sumptuous robe and bring him to me." They did
the bidding of their lord and led the youth to the presence where
he kissed ground and prayed for the permanence of the Caliph's
rule; and the Sovran accepting this clothed him in a coat whereon
plates of gold were hammered[FN#175] and binding round his head a
turband of fine gauze with richly embroidered ends made him Chief
Lord of the Right[FN#176] and said to him, "Hie thee now to thy
home!" Accordingly he blessed the Prince and went forth
accompanied by all the Emirs who rode their blood-steeds, and the
Knights fared with him and escorted him in procession, with
kettledrums and clarions, till they reached his mansion. Here his
mother and his sister heard the hubbub of the multitude and the
crash of the kettledrums and were asking, "What is to do?" when
the bearers of glad tidings forewent the folk and knocked at the
door saying, "We require of you the sweetmeats of good news, for
the Caliph hath shown grace to Alaeddin the Chamberlain and hath
increased his fiefs besides making him Chief Lord of the Right."
Hearing this they rejoiced with joy exceeding and gave to the
messengers what satisfied them, and while they were thus, behold,
Alaeddin the son of the house arrived and entered therein. His
mother and sister sprang up and saluted him throwing their arms
round his neck and weeping for stress of gladness. Presently he
sat down and fell to recounting to them what had befallen him;
but chancing to look around he saw that the house had changed
condition and had been renovated; so he said "O my mother, the
time of my absence hath been short and when was this lodging made
new?" She replied, "O my son, what day thou wast seized, they
plundered our abode even to tearing up the slabs and the doors,
nor did they leave us aught worth a single dirham: indeed we
passed three days without breaking our fast upon aught of
victual." Hearing this from her quoth he, "But whence cometh all
this to you, these stuffs and vessels, and who was it rebuilded
this house in a space so short? Or haply is all this I see in the
land of dreams?" But quoth she, "Nay, 'tis no vision but an
absolute reality and 'twas all done by my son-in-law in a single
day." "And who may be my new brother-in-law?" he enquired, "and
when didst thou give away my sister, and who married her without
my leave?"[FN#177] "Hold thy peace, O my son," rejoined she, "but
for him we had died of want and hunger!" "And what may be his
calling?" the Emir asked, and she answered, "A Robber!" But when
her son heard this he was like to choke with anger and he cried,
"What degree hath this robber that he become my brother-in-law?
Now by the tomb of my forbears I will assuredly smite his neck."
"Cast away from thee such wild talk," cried she, "for the
mischief of another is greater than thy mischief, withal naught
thereof availed him[FN#178] with a man who wrought all thou seest
in half a day." Then she related to her son what had befallen the
Kazi and the Wali from the man and how he had bastinado'd the
police, showing him as he spoke the blood which had poured from
their bodies upon the floor for excess of flogging; and she
continued, "Presently I complained to him of my case, how the
Commander of the Faithful had seized thee and imprisoned thee
when he said to me, 'At this very moment I fare to the Caliph and
cause him to free thy son and suffer him to return home; also to
robe him and to increase his fiefs;' whereupon he went from us
and after an hour, lo and behold! thou appearedst; so but for him
we had never seen thee any more." When her son heard these words,
his wits were bewildered and he was confounded at his case, so he
asked her, "What may this man be styled and what may be his
name?" She answered, "We are ignorant an he have any name or not,
for however much we enquired of the marble-cutters and master
artificers and handi-craftsmen, they told us only that his bye-
name[FN#179] is Al-Bundukani without letting us know any other.
Moreover on like wise when he sent me to fetch the Kazi he bade
me tell him that Al-Bundukani had summoned him." Now when the
Emir Alaeddin heard her name Al-Bundukani he knew that it was the
Commander of the Faithful, nor could he prevent himself springing
to his feet and kissing ground seven times; but as his mother
beheld this she laughed and cried, "O thou brawler,[FN#180] 'tis
as if he had met thee in the street and had given thee to drink a
draught of clotted blood, one beyond the common![FN#181] What of
thy brave words when anon thou saidst, 'I will smite his neck'?"
"And dost thou know," quoth he, "who may be the person thou so
callest?" and quoth she, "Who may he be?" "The Commander of the
Faithful, the Caliph Harun al-Rashid in person," cried her son,
"and what other could have done with the Kazi and the Wali and
the rest what he did?" When she heard these words, she dried up
with dread and cried, "O my son, set me in a place of
safety,[FN#182] for he will suffer me no longer to cumber the
face of earth by reason of my often speaking at him; nor did I
ever cease to address him as 'Robber.'" Now whilst they were
speaking behold, came up the Commander of the Faithful, whereat
Alaeddin arose and kissed ground and blessed him, but the ancient
dame took to flight and hid her in a closet. The Caliph seated
himself, then he looked around and, not seeing his mother-in-law,
said to the Chamberlain, "And where may be thy parent?" "She
dreadeth," replied Alaeddin, 'and standeth in awe of the Caliph's
majesty;" but Harun rejoined, "There is no harm for her." Then he
bade her be summoned whereat she appeared and kissed ground and
prayed for the permanency of his kingship, and he said to her,
"Erewhiles thou girdest thy waist to aid me in stealing slaves'
shoon and now thou fliest from thy teacher?" She blushed for
shame and exclaimed, "Pardon, O Commander of the Faithful," and
Harun al-Rashid[FN#183] replied, "May Allah pardon the Past."
Presently he sent for the Princess, the daughter of the Chosro\xEB
and, summoning the Kazi, forthright divorced her and gave her in
marriage to Alaeddin, his Chamberlain. Hereupon were spread
bride-feasts which gathered together all the Lords of the Empire
and the Grandees of Baghdad, and tables and trays of food were
laid out during three successive days for the mesquin and the
miserable. The visit of entrance was paid by the two bridegrooms
on a single night when both went in unto their wives and took
their joy of them, and made perfect their lives with the
liveliest enjoyment. And ever after they passed the fairest of
days till such time as came to them the Destroyer of delights and
the Severer of societies and all passed away and died.

So praise be to the Ever-Living who dieth not!

             Such is the tale which came down to us
                 in completion and perfection,
                    and glory be to God, the
                   Lord of the three Worlds.


                          KING'S SON.

We here begin,[FN#184] with the aidance of Allah Almighty, and
invite the History of the Tarjum\xE1nah[FN#185] and the
Kahramanah[FN#186] and the young man, the King's son, and whatso
happed between them of controversy and of contention and
interrogation on various matters.

It is related (but Allah is All-knowing anent what passed and
preceded us of the histories belonging to bygone peoples) that
there reigned in a city of Roum[FN#187] a King of high degree and
exalted dignity, a lord of power and puissance.  But this Sovran
was issue-less, so he ceased not to implore Allah Almighty that
boon of babe might be vouchsafed to him, and presently the Lord
had pity upon him and deigned grant him a man-child.  He bade
tend the young Prince with tenderest tending, and caused him to
be taught every branch of knowledge, and the divine precepts of
wisdom and morals and manners; nor did there remain aught of
profitable learning wherein the Youth was not instructed; and
upon this education the King expended a mint of money.  Now after
the Youth grew up Time rounded upon the Sovran his sire and his
case was laid bare and he was perplext as to himself and he
wotted not whatso he should ever do.  Presently his son took
heart to direct him aright, and asked, "O my father, say me, wilt
thou give ear to that wherewith I would bespeak thee?"  "Speak
out," quoth the King, "that is with thee of fair rede;" and quoth
the youth, "Rise, O my sire, that we depart this city ere any be
ware of our wending; so shall we find rest and issue from the
straits of indigence now closing around us.  In this place there
is no return of livelihood to us and poverty hath emaciated us
and we are set in the sorriest of conditions than which naught
can be sorrier."  "O my child," quoth his sire in reply,
"admirable is this advice wherewith thou hast advised us, O my
son, pious and dutiful; and be the affair now upon Allah and upon
thee."  Hereupon the Youth gat all ready and arising one night
took his father and mother without any being cognisant; and the
three, entrusting themselves to the care of Allah Almighty,
wandered forth from home.  And they ceased not wandering over the
wilds and the wolds till at last they saw upon their way a large
city and a mighty fine; so they entered it and made for a place
whereat they alighted.  Presently the young Prince arose and went
forth to stroll about the streets and take his solace; and whilst
he walked about he asked concerning the city and who was its
Sovran.  They gave him tidings thereof saying, "This be the
capital of a Sultan, equitable and high in honour amongst the
Kings."  Hereupon returning to his father and mother, quoth he to
them, "I desire to sell you as slaves to this Sultan,[FN#188] and
what say ye?"  Quoth they, "We have committed our case to
Almighty Allah and then to thee, O our son; so do whatso thou
wishest and judgest good."  Hereat the Prince, repairing to the
Palace, craved leave to enter to the King and, having obtained
such permission, made his obeisance in the presence.  Now when
the Sultan looked upon him he saw that his visitor was of the
sons of the great, so he asked him, "What be thy need, Ho thou
the Youth?" and the other made answer, "O my lord, thy slave is a
merchant man and with me is a male captive, handy of handicraft,
God-fearing and pious, and a pattern of honesty and honour in
perfect degree: I have also a bondswoman goodly in graciousness
and of civility complete in all thou canst command of bondswomen;
these I desire to vend, O my lord, to thy Highness, and if thou
wouldst buy them of thy servant they are between thy hands and at
thy disposal, and we all three are thy chattels."  When the King
heard these pleasant words spoken by the Youth, he said to him,
"And where are they?  Bring them hither that I behold them; and,
if they be such as thou informest me, I will bid them be bought
of thee!"  Hereupon the Prince fared forth and informed his
parents of this offer and said to them, "Rise up with me that I
vend you and take from this Sultan your price wherewith I will
pass into foreign parts and win me wealth enough to redeem and
free you on my return hither.  And the rest we will expend upon
our case."  "O our son," said they, "do with us whatso thou
wishest."  Anon,[FN#189] the parents arose and prepared to
accompany him and the Youth took them and led them into the
presence of that Sultan where they made their obeisance, and the
King at first sight of them marvelled with extreme marvel and
said to them, "Are ye twain slaves to this young man?"  Said
they, "Yes, O our lord;" whereupon he turned to the Youth and
asked him, "What be the price thou requirest for these two?"  "O
my lord," replied he, "give me to the price of this man slave, a
mare saddled and bridled and perfect in weapons and
furniture;[FN#190] and, as for this bondswoman, I desire thou
make over to me as her value, a suit of clothes, the choicest and
completest."  Accordingly the Sultan bade pay him all his
requirement, over and above which he largessed him with an
hundred dinars; and the Youth, after obtaining his demand and
receiving such tokens of the royal liberality, kissed the King's
hands and farewelled his father and mother.  Then he applied
himself to travel, seeking prosperity from Allah and all
unknowing whither he should wend.  And whilst he was faring upon
his wayfare he was met by a horseman of the horsemen,[FN#191] and
they both exchanged salutations and welcomings, when the stranger
was highly pleased at the politeness of the King's son and the
elegance of his expressions.  Presently, pulling from his pocket
a sealed letter wrapt in a kerchief he passed it over to the
Youth, saying, "In very sooth, O my brother, affection for thee
hath befallen my heart by reason of the goodliness of thy manners
and elegance of thine address and the sweetness of thy language;
and now I desire to work thy weal by means of this missive."
"And what of welfare may that be?" asked the Prince, whereto the
horseman answered, "Take with thee this letter and forthwith upon
arriving at the Court of the King whither thou art wending, hand
to him this same; so shalt thou obtain from him gain abundant and
mighty great good and thou shalt abide with him in degree of
highmost honour.  This paper (gifted to me by my teacher) hath
already brought me ample livelihood and prodigious profit, and I
have bestowed it upon thee by reason of thine elegance and good
breeding and thy courteousness in showing me respect."  Hereat
the Youth, the son of the King, answered him, "Allah requite thee
with weal and grant thou gain thy wish;" and so saying accepted
the letter of that horseman with honest heart and honourable
intent, meditating in his mind, "Inshallah ta'\xE1la--an it be the
will of God the Greatest I shall have good fortune to my lot by
the blessing of this epistle; then will I fare and set free my
father and my mother."  So the Prince resumed his route and he
exulted in himself especially at having secured the writ, by
means whereof he was promised abundant weal.  Presently, it
chanced that he became drowthy with excessive drowth that waxed
right sore upon him and he saw upon his path no water to drink;
and by the tortures of thirst he was like to lose his life.  So
he turned round and looked at the mare he bestrode and found her
covered with a foam of sweat wholly unlike her wonted way.
Hereat dismounting he brought out the wrapper wherein the letter
was enrolled and loosing it he mopped up therewith his animal's
sweat and squeezing it into a cup he had by him drank it off and
found to his joy that he was somewhat comforted.  Then, of his
extreme satisfaction with the letter, he said to himself, "Would
Heaven I knew that which is within, and how the profit which the
horseman promised should accrue to me therefrom.  So let me open
it and see its contents that my heart may be satisfied and my
soul be joyed."  Then he did as he devised and perused its
purport and he mastered its meaning and the secret committed to
it, which he found as follows, "O my lord, do thou straightway on
the arrival of him who beareth these presents slay him, nor leave
him one moment on life; because this Youth came to me and I
entreated him with honour the highmost that could be of all
honouring, as a return for which this traitor of the salt, this
reprobate betrayed me in a daughter that was by me.  I feared to
do him dead lest I come to shame amongst the folk and endure
disgrace, I and my tribe, wherefore I have forwarded him to thy
Highness that thou mayest torture him with torments of varied art
and end his affair and slaughter him, thus saving us from the
shame which befel us at the hands of this reprobate
traitor."[FN#192]  Now when the young Prince read this writ and
comprehended its contents, he suspected that it was not written
concerning him and he took thought in himself, saying, "Would
Heaven I knew what I can have done by this horseman who thus
seeketh diligently to destroy my life, for that this one had with
him no daughter, he being alone and wending his way without any
other save himself; and I made acquaintance with him nor passed
there between us a word which was unworthy or unmeet.  Now this
affair must needs have one of two faces; to wit, the first, that
such mishap really did happen to him from some youth who
favoureth me and when he saw the likeness he gave me the letter;
or, on the second count, this must be a trial and a test sent to
me from Almighty Allah, and praise be to God the Great who
inspired me to open this missive.  At any rate I thank the Most
Highest and laud Him for His warding off the distress and
calamity descending upon me and wherefrom He delivered me."  Then
the young Prince ceased not wending over the wildest of wolds
until he came to a mighty grand city which he entered; and,
hiring himself a lodging in a Khan,[FN#193] dismounted thereat;
then, having tethered his mare and fed her with a sufficiency of
fodder, he fared forth to walk about the thoroughfares.  Suddenly
he was met by an ancient dame who considered him and noted him
for a handsome youth and an elegant, tall of stature and with the
signs of prosperity showing manifest between his eyes.  Hereat he
accosted her and questioned her of the city folk and their
circumstances, whereto the old woman made reply with the
following purport, "Here in our city reigneth a King of exalted
dignity and he hath a daughter fair of favour, indeed the
loveliest of the folk of her time.  Now she hath taken upon
herself never to intermarry with any of mankind unless it be one
who can overcome her with instances and arguments and can return
a sufficient reply to all her questions; and this is upon
condition that, should he come off vanquisher, he shall become
her mate, but if vanquished she will cut off his head, and on
such wise hath she done with ninety-and-nine men of the noblest
blood, as sons of the Kings and sundry others.  Furthermore, she
hath a towering castle founded upon the heights that overfrown
the whole of this city whence she can descry all who pass under
its walls."  As soon as the young Prince heard these words from
the love of the King's daughter and he passed that night as it
were to him the longsomest of nights, nor would he believe that
the next morn had morrowed.  But when dawned the day and anon
showed its sheen and shone, he arose without let or stay and
after saddling his mare mounted her and turned towards the palace
belonging to the King's daughter; and presently reaching it, took
his station at the gateway.  Hereat all those present considered
him and asked him saying, "What be the cause of thy standing
hereabouts?" whereto he answered, "I desire speech with the
Princess."  But when they heard these words, all fell to
addressing him with kindly words and courteous and dissuading him
from his desire and saying, "Ho thou beautiful youngling!
fear[FN#194] Allah and pity thyself and have ruth upon thy youth;
nor dare seek converse with this Princess, for that she hath
slain fourscore and nineteen men of the nobles and sons of the
kings and for thee sore we fear that thou shalt complete the
century."  The Prince, however, would not hear a word from them
nor heed their rede; neither would he be warned by the talk of
others than they; nay he persisted in standing at the Palace
gateway.  And presently he asked admission to go in to the King's
daughter; but this was refused by the Princess, who contented
herself with sending forth to him her Tarjum\xE1nah, her
Linguist-dame, to bespeak him and say, "Ho thou fair youth! art
thou ready and longing to affront dangers and difficulties?"  He
replied, "I am."  "Then," quoth she, "hie thee to the King the
father of this Princess and show thyself and acquaint him with
thine affair and thine aim, after which do thou bear witness
against thyself in presence of the Kazi that an thou conquer his
daughter in her propositions and she fail of replying to a query
of thine thou shalt become her mate; whereas if she vanquish thee
she shall lawfully cut off thy head,[FN#195] even as she hath
decapitated so many before thy time.  And when this is done come
thou back to us."  The Prince forthright fared for the monarch
and did as he was bidden; then he returned to the Linguist-dame
and reported all his proceedings before the King and eke the
Kazi.  After this he was led in to the presence of the Princess
and with him was the afore-mentioned Tarjum\xE1nah who brought him a
cushion of silk for the greater comfort of his sitting; and the
two fell to questioning and resolving queries and problems in
full sight of a large attendance.  Began the Tarjum\xE1nah,
interpreting the words of her lady who was present, "Ho thou the
Youth! my mistress saith to thee, Do thou inform me concerning an
ambulant moving sepulchre whose inmate is alive."  He answered
and said, "The moving sepulchre is the whale that swallowed Jonas
(upon whom be the choicest of Salams![FN#196]), and the Prophet
was quick in the whale's belly."  She pursued, "Tell me
concerning two combatants who fight each other but not with hands
or feet, and who withal never say a say or speak a speech."  He
answered saying, "The bull and the buffalo who encounter each
other by ramming with horns."  She continued, "Point out to me a
tract of earth which saw not the sun save for a single time and
since that never."  He answered saying, "This be the sole of the
Red Sea when Moses the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!) smote it
with his rod and clove it asunder so that the Children of Israel
crossed over it on dry ground, which was never seen but only
once."[FN#197]  She resumed, "Relate to me anent that which drank
water during its life-time and ate meat after its death?"  He
answered saying, "This be the Rod[FN#198] of Moses the Prophet
(upon whom be The Peace!) which, when a living branch[FN#199]
struck water from its living root and died only when severed from
the parent tree.  Now Almighty Allah cast it upon the land of
Egypt by the hand of Moses, what time this Prophet drowned
Pharaoh and his host[FN#200] and therewith clove the Red Sea,
after which that Rod became a dragon and swallowed up the wands
of all the Magicians of Misraim."  Asked she, "Give me tidings of
a thing which is not of mankind nor of the J\xE1nn-kind, neither of
the beasts nor of the birds?"  He answered saying, "This whereof
thou speakest is that mentioned by Solomon, to with the
Louse,[FN#201], and secondly the Ant."  She enquired, "Tell me to
what end Almighty Allah created the creation and for what aim of
wisdom did He quicken this creation and for what object did He
cause death to be followed by resurrection and resurrection by
the rendering men's accounts?"  He answered saying, "God created
all creatures that they might witness His handicraft, and he did
them die that they might behold his absolute dominion and He
requickened them to the end that they learn His All-Might, and He
decreed their rendering account that they might consider His
wisdom and His justice."  She questioned him saying, "Tell me
concerning three, of whom my first was not born of father and
mother and yet died; and my second was begotten of sire and born
of woman yet died not, and my third was born of father and mother
yet died not by human death?"  He answered saying, "The first
were Adam and Eve,[FN#202] the second was Elias[FN#203] the
Prophet and the third was Lot's wife who died not the death of
the general, for that she was turned into a pillar of salt."
Quoth she, "Relate to me concerning one who in this world had two
names?" and he answered saying, "This be Jacob, sire of the
Twelve Tribes, to whom Allah vouchsafed the title of Israel,
which is Man with El or God."[FN#204]  She said, "Inform me
concerning the N\xE1k\xFAs, or the Gong,[FN#205] who was the inventor
thereof and at what time was it first struck in this world?"  He
answered saying, "The Gong was invented by Noah, who first smote
upon it in the Ark."  And after this she stinted not to question
him nor he to ree her riddles until evening fell, when quoth the
King's daughter to the Linguist-dame, "Say thou to the young man
that he may now depart, and let him come to me betimes next
morning when, if I conquer him, I will give him drink of the cup
his fellows drained; and, should he vanquish me, I will become
his wife."  Then the Tarjum\xE1nah delivered her message word for
word, and the Youth went forth from the Princess with fire aflame
in his heart and spent the longest of nights hardly believing
that the morn would morrow.  But when day broke and the dawn came
with its sheen and shone upon all mankind, he arose from his
sleep and fared with the first light to the palace where the
King's daughter bade the Linguist-dame introduce him, and when he
came in ordered him to be seated.  As soon as he had taken seat
she gave her commands to the Tarjum\xE1nah, who said, "My lady
directeth thee to inform her what may be the tree bearing a dozen
boughs, each clothed with thirty leaves and these of two colours,
one half white and the other moiety black?"  He answered saying,
"Now that tree is the year, and its twelve branches are the dozen
months, while the thirty leaves upon each of these are the thirty
white days and the thirty black nights."  Hereat quoth she, "Tell
me, what tree was it bore many a bough and manifold leaves which
presently became flesh and blood?"  He answered saying, "This was
the Rod of Moses the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!) which was
at first a tree but which after cutting became a serpent with
flesh and blood."  Continued she, "Inform me what became of
Moses' Rod and Noah's Ark, and where now be they?"  He answered
saying, "They are at this tide sunken in the Lake of
Tabariyyah,[FN#206] and both, at the end of time, will be brought
out by a man hight Al-N\xE1sir\xED.[FN#207]  She pursued, "Acquaint me
with spun yarn, whence did it originate and who was it first
practised spinning the same?"  He answered, saying, "Almighty
Allah from the beginning of mankind ordered the Archangel Gabriel
to visit Eve and say to her, 'Spin for thyself and for Adam
waistcloths wherewith ye may veil your persons.'"[FN#208]  She
enquired, "Tell me concerning the As\xE1f\xEDr,[FN#209] and why they
were so called, and who first named them with such name?"  He
answered saying, "There was in the days of the Moses the Prophet
(upon whom be The Peace!) a fowl called F\xEDr, and in the time of
Solomon the King (upon whom be The Peace!) all the birds paid him
obedience, even as did all the beasts, and albeit each and every
created thing was subject to the Prophet, withal this F\xEDr would
not show submission: so the Wise King sent a body of birds to
bring him into the presence, but he refused to present himself.
Presently they returned to the Prophet who asked them, "Where be
F\xEDr?" and they answered, "O our lord, 'As\xE1 F\xEDr,'[FN#210] whence
that name hath clung to the fowls."  She resumed, "Inform me of
the two Stationaries and the two Moveables and the two Conjoineds
and the two Disjoineds by jealousy and the twain which be eternal
Foes."  He answered saying, "Now the two Stationaries be Heaven
and Earth and the two Moveables are the Sun and the Moon; the two
Conjoineds are Night and Day and the two Disjoineds by jealousy
are the Soul and the Body and the two Hostiles are Death and
Life."[FN#211]  On this wise the Linguist-dame ceased not to
question him and he to reply solving all her problems until eve
closed in.  Then she bade him go forth that night and on the next
day come again to her.  Accordingly, the young Prince returned to
his Khan and no sooner had he made sure that the morn had
morrowed than he resolved to see if that day would bring him
aught better than had come to him before.  So arising betimes he
made for the palace of the King's daughter and was received and
introduced by the Tarjum\xE1nah who seated him as was her wont and
presently she began, saying, "My lady biddeth thee inform her of
a thing which an a man do that same 'tis unlawful; and if a man
do not that same 'tis also unlawful."  He answered, saying, "I
will: this be the prayer[FN#212] of a drunken man which is in
either case illegal."  Quoth she, "Tell me how far is the
interval between Heaven and Earth?" and he answered saying, "That
bridged over by the prayer of Moses the Prophet[FN#213] (upon him
be The Peace!) whom Allah Almighty saved and preserved."  She
said, "And how far is it betwixt East and West?" whereto he
answered saying, "The space of a day and the course of the Sun
wending from Orient unto Occident."  Then she asked, "Let me know
what was the habit[FN#214] of Adam in Paradise?" and he answered
saying, "Adam's habit in Eden was his flowing hair."[FN#215]  She
continued, "Tell me of Abraham the Friend (upon whom be The
Peace!) how was it that Allah chose him out and called him
'Friend?'"[FN#216]  He answered saying, "Verily the Lord
determined to tempt and to test him albeit he kenned right
clearly that the Prophet was free of will yet fully capable of
enduring the trial; natheless, He resolved to do on this wise
that he might stablish before men the truth of His servant's
trust in the Almighty and the fairness of his faith and the
purity of his purpose.  So the Lord bade him offer to Him his son
Is'h\xE1k[FN#217] as a Corban or Sacrifice; and of the truth of his
trust he took his child and would have slain him as a victim.
But when he drew his knife with the purpose of slaughtering the
youth he was thus addressed by the Most Highest Creator, 'Now
indeed well I wot that thou gatherest[FN#218] me and keepest my
covenant: so take thou yonder rain and slay it as a victim in the
stead of Is'h\xE1k.'  And after this he entitled him 'Friend.'"  She
pursued, "Inform me touching the sons of Israel how many were
they at the time of the going forth from Egypt?"  He answered,
saying, "When they marched out of Misraim-land they numbered six
hundred thousand fighting[FN#219] men besides women and
children."  She continued, "Do thou point out to me, some place
on earth which is higher than the Heavens;" and he answered
saying, "This is Jerusalem[FN#220] the Exalted and she standeth
far above the Firmament."  Then the Youth turning to the
Linguist-dame, said, "O my lady, long and longsome hath been the
exposition of that which is between us, and were thy lady to ask
me for all time questions such as these and the like of them, I
by the All-might of Allah shall return a full and sufficient
answer to one and all.  But, in lieu of so doing, I desire of thy
mistress the Princess to ask of her one question and only one:
and, if she satisfy me of the significance I claim therefor, let
her give me to drain the cup of my foregoers whom she overcame
and slew; and if she fail in the attempt she shall own herself
conquered and become my wife--and The Peace!"[FN#221]  Now this
was said in the presence of a mighty host there present, the
great of them as well as the small thereof; so the Tarjum\xE1nah
answered willy-nilly, "Say, O Youth, whatso is the will of thee
and speak out that which is in the mind of thee."  He rejoined,
"Tell thy lady that she deign enlighten me concerning a man who
was in this condition.  He was born and brought up in the highest
of prosperity but Time turned upon him and Poverty mishandled
him;[FN#222] so he mounted his father and clothed him with his
mother[FN#223] and he fared forth to seek comfort and happiness
at the hand of Allah Almighty.  Anon Death met him on the way and
Doom bore him upon his head and his courser saved him from
destruction whenas he drank water which came neither from the sky
nor from the ground.  Now see thou who may be that man and do
thou give me answer concerning him."[FN#224]  But when the
Princess heard this question, she was confused with exceeding
confusion touching the reply to be replied in presence of a posse
of the people, and she was posed and puzzled and perplext to
escape the difficulty and naught availed her save addressing the
Tarjum\xE1nah and saying, "Do thou bid this Youth wend his ways and
remove himself until the morrow."  The Linguist-dame did as she
was bidden, adding, "And on the morrow (Inshallah!) there shall
be naught save weal;" and the Prince went forth leaving the folk
aghast at the question he had urged upon the King's daughter.
But as soon as he left her the young lady commanded the
Tarjum\xE1nah to let slaughter somewhat of the most toothsome
poultry and to prepare them for food as her mistress might direct
her; together with dainty meats and delicate sweetmeats and the
finest fruits fresh and dried and all manner of other eatables
and drinkables, and lastly to take a skin-bottle filled with good
old wine.  Then she changed her usual garb and donned the most
sumptuous dress of all her gear; and, taking her Duenna and
favourite handmaiden with a few of her women for comitive, she
repaired to the quarters of the Youth, the King's son; and the
time of her visit was the night-tide.  Presently, reaching the
Khan she said to her guardian, "Go thou in to him alone whilst I
hide me somewhere behind the door and do thou sit between his
hands;" after which she taught the old woman all she desired her
do of dissimulation and artifice.  The slave obeyed her mistress
and going in accosted the young man with the salam; and, seating
herself before him, said, "Ho thou the Youth!  Verily there is
here a lovely damsel, delightsome and perfect of qualities, whose
peer is not in her age, and well nigh able is she to make the sun
fare backwards[FN#225] and to illumine the universe in lieu
thereof.  Now when thou wast wont to visit us in the apartment of
the Princess, this maiden looked upon thee and found thee a fair
youth; so her heart loved thee with excessive love and desired
thee with exceeding desire and to such degree that she insisted
upon accompanying me and she hath now taken station at thy door
longing to enter.  So do thou grant her permission that she come
in and appear in thy presence and then retire to some privacy
where she may stand in thy service, a slave to thy will."[FN#226]
The Prince replied, "Whoso seeketh us let enter with weal and
welfare, and well come and welcome and fair welcome to each and
every of such guests."  Hereat the Princess went in as did all
those who were with her, and presently after taking seat they
brought out and set before the Youth their whole store of edibles
and potables and the party fell to eating and drinking and
converse, exchanging happy sayings blended with wit and disport
and laughter, while the Princess made it her especial task to toy
with her host deeming that he knew her not to be the King's
daughter.  He also stinted not to take his pleasure with her; and
on this wise they feasted and caroused and enjoyed themselves and
were cheered and the converse between them was delightful.  The
Duenna, however, kept plying the Prince with wine, mere and pure,
until she had made him drunken and his carousal had so mastered
him that he required her person of her; however she refused
herself and questioned him of the enigma wherewith he had
overcome her mistress; whilst he, for stress of drunkenness, was
incapacitated by stammering to explain her aught thereof.
Hereupon the Princess, having doffed her upper dress, propped
herself sideways upon a divan cushion and stretched herself at
full length and the Youth for the warmth of his delight in her
and his desire to her anon recovering his speech explained to her
the reply of his riddle.  The King's daughter then joyed with
mighty great joy as though she had won the world
universal;[FN#227] and, springing to her feet incontinently, of
her extreme gladness she would not delay to finish her disport
with her wooer; but ere the morning morrowed she departed and
entered her palace.  Now in so doing she clean forgot her outer
robes and the wine-service and what remained of meat and drink.
The Youth had been overcome with sleep and after slumbering he
awoke at dawn when he looked round and saw none of the company
about him; withal he recognised the princely garments which were
of the most sumptuous and costly, robes of brocade and sendal and
suchlike, together with jewels and adornments: and scattered
about lay sundry articles of the wine-service and fragments of
the food they had brought with them.  And from these signs of
things forgotten he learnt that the King's daughter had visited
him in person and he was certified that she had beguiled him with
her wiles until she had wrung from him the reply of his question.
So as soon as it was morning-tide he arose and went, as was his
wont, to the Princess's palace where he was met by the Tarjum\xE1nah
who said to him, "O Youth, is it thy pleasure that my lady
expound to thee her explanation of the enigma yesterday proposed
by thee?"  "I will tell the very truth," answered he; "and relate
to thee what befel me since I saw you last, and 'twas this.  When
I left you there came to me a lovely bird, delightsome and
perfect of charms, and I indeed entertained her with uttermost
honour and worship; we ate and we drank together, but at night
she shook her feathers and flew away from me.  And if she deny
this I will produce her plumage before her father and all
present."  Now when the Sovran, the sire of the Princess, heard
these words concerning his daughter, to wit, that the youth had
conquered her in her contention and that she had fared to his
quarters to the end that she might wring from him an explanation
of the riddle which she was unable to ree or reply thereto, he
would do naught else save to summon the Cohen[FN#228] and the
Lords of his land and the Grandees of his realm and the Notables
of his kith and kin.  And when the Priest and all made act of
presence, he told them the whole tale first and last; namely, the
conditions to the Youth conditioned, that if overcome by his
daughter and unable to answer her questions he should be let
drain the cup of destruction like his fellows, and if he overcame
her he should claim her to wife.  Furthermore he declared that
the Youth had answered, with full and sufficient answer, all he
had been asked without doubt or hesitation; while at last he had
proposed to her an enigma which she had been powerless to solve;
and in this matter he had vanquished her twice (he having
answered her and she having failed to answer him).  "For which
reason," concluded the King, "'tis only right that he marry her;
even as was the condition between them twain; and it becometh our
first duty to adjudge their contention and decide their case
according to covenant and he being doubtless the conqueror to bid
write his writ of marriage with her.  But what say ye?"  They
replied, "This is the rightest of redes; moreover the Youth, a
fair and a pleasant, becometh her well and she likewise besitteth
him; and their lot is a wondrous."  So they bade write the
marriage writ and the Cohen, arising forthright, pronounced the
union auspicious and began blessing and praying for the pair and
all present.  In due time the Prince went in to her and
consummated the marriage according to the custom stablished by
Allah and His Holy Law; and thereafter he related to his bride
all that had betided him, from beginning to end, especially how
he had sold his parents to one of the Kings.  Now when she heard
these words, she had ruth upon his case and soothed his spirit
saying to him, "Be of good cheer and keep thine eyes clear and
cool of tear."  Then, after a little while the Princess bestowed
upon her bridegroom a mint of money that he might fare forth and
free his father and his mother.  Accordingly the Prince,
accepting her largesse, sought the King to whom he had pledged
his parents (and they were still with him in all weal and
welfare) and going in to him made his salam and kissed ground and
told him the whole tale of the past and the conditions of death
or marriage he had made with the King's daughter and of his
wedding her after overcoming her in contention.  So the monarch
honoured him with honour galore than which naught could be more;
and, when the Prince paid him over the moneys, he asked, "What be
these dirhams?"  "The price of my parents thou paidest to me,"
answered the other.  But the King exclaimed, "I gave thee not to
the value of thy father and mother moneys of such amount as this
sum.  I only largessed thee with a mare and a suit of clothes
which was not defraying a debt but presenting thee with a present
and thereby honouring thee with due honour.  Then
Alhamdolillah-laud be to the Lord, who preserved thee and enabled
thee to win thy wish, and now arise and take thy parents and
return in safety to thy bride."  The Prince hereupon thanked him
and praised Allah for the royal guerdon and favours and the fair
treatment wherewith he had been entreated; after which he craved
leave to receive his parents in charge and wend his ways.  And
when permission was granted to him, he wished all good wishes to
the King and taking his father and his mother in weal and welfare
he went his ways with them, in joy and gladness and gratitude for
all blessings and benefits by Allah upon him bestowed, till he
had returned to his bride.  Here he found that his father-in-law
had deceased during his absence, so he took seat in lieu of him
upon the throne of the kingdom; and he and his consort, during
all the days of their life in this world, ceased not eating and
drinking in health and well-being and eating and drinking in joy
and happiness and bidding and forbidding until they quitted this
mundane scene to the safeguard of the Lord God.  And here endeth
and is perfected the history of the Youth, the King's son, and
the sale of his parents and his falling into the springes of the
Princess who insisted upon proposing problems to all her wooers
with the condition that if they did not reply she would do them
drain the cup of destruction and on this wise had slain a many of
men; and, in fine, how she was worsted by and she fell to the lot
of this youth whom Allah gifted with understanding to ree all her
riddles and who had confounded her with his question whereto she
availed not to reply; when his father-in-law died, succeeded to
the kingdom which he ruled so well.[FN#229]

NOTE TO P. 82. {footnote [FN#219]]

The M\xFAs\xE0 (Moses) of the Moslems is borrowed from Jewish sources, the
Pentateuch and especially the Talmud, with a trifle of Gnosticism which,
hinted at in the Koran (chapt. xviii.), is developed by later writers, making
him the "external" man, while Khizr, the Green prophet, is the internal.  But
they utterly ignore Manetho whose account of the Jewish legislator (Josephus
against Apion, i. cc. 26, 27) shows the other or Egyptian part.  Moses, by
name Osarsiph=Osiris-Sapi, Osiris of the underworld, which some translate rich
(Osii) in food (Siph, Seph, or Zef) was nicknamed Mosheh from the Heb.
Mashah=to draw out, because drawn from the water[FN#230] (or rather from the
Koptic Mo=water ushe=saved).  He became a priest an An or On (Heliopolis),
after studying the learning of the Egyptians.  Presently he was chosen chief
by the "lepers and other unclean persons" who had been permitted by King
Amenophis to occupy the city Avaris lately left desolate by the "Shepherd
Kings."  Osarsiph ordained the polity and laws of his followers, forbidding
them to worship the Egyptian gods and enjoining them to slay and sacrifice the
sacred animals.  They were joined by the "unclean of the Egyptians" and by
their kinsmen of the Shepherds, and treated the inhabitants with a barbarity
more execrable than that of the latter, setting fire to cities and villages,
casting the Egyptian priests and prophets out of their country, and compelling
Amenophis to fall back upon Ethiopia.  After some years of disorder Sethos
(also called Ramesses from his father Rampses) son of Amenophis came down with
the King from Ethiopia leading great united forces, and, "encountering the
Shepherds and the unclean people, they defeated them and slew multitudes of
them, and pursued the remainder to the borders of Syria."  Josephus relates
this account of Manetho, which is apparently truthful, with great indignation.
For the prevalence of leprosy we have the authority of the Hebrews themselves,
and Pliny (xxvi. 2), speaking of Rubor \xC6gyptus, evidently white leprosy ending
in the black, assures us that it was "natural to the \xC6gyptians," adding a very
improbable detail, namely that the kings cured it by balne\xE6 (baths) of human

Schiller (in "Die Sendung Moses") argues that the mission of the Jewish
lawgiver, as adopted son (the real son?) of Pharoah's daughter, became
"learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians," by receiving the priestly
education of the royal princes, and that he had advanced from grade to grade
in the religious mysteries, even to the highest, in which the great truth of
the One Supreme, the omniscient, omnipotent God was imparted, as the sublime
acme of all human knowledge, thus attributing to Moses before his flight into
Midian, an almost modern conception of an essentially anthropomorphous Deity.

Further, that his conscious mission when he returned to Egypt was not merely
the deliverance of his people from the Egyptian yoke, but the revelation to
them of this great conception, and so the elevation of that host of slaves to
the position of a nation, to whose every member the highest mystery of
religion should be known and whose institutions should be based upon it.  It
is remarkable that Schiller should have accepted the fables of Manetho as
history, that he should not have suspected the fact that the Egyptian priest
wrote from motives of personal spite and jealousy, and with the object of
poisoning the mind of Ptolemy against the learned Jews with whom he stood on
terms of personal friendship.  Thus he not only accepts the story that the
Hebrews were expelled from Egypt because of the almost universal spread of
leprosy among them, but explains at length why that loathsome and horrible
disease should have so prevailed.  Still Schiller's essay, written with his
own charming eloquence, is a magnificent eulogy of the founder of the Hebrew

Goethe ("Israel in der W\xFCste"), on the other hand, with curious ingenuity,
turns every thing to the prejudice of the "headstrong man" Moses, save that he
does grant him a vivid sentiment of justice.  He makes him both by nature and
education a grand, strong man, but brutal (roh) withal.  His killing the
Egyptian is a secret murder; "his dauntless fist gains him the favour of a
Midianitish priest-prince . . . . under the pretence of a general festival,
gold and silver dishes are swindled (by the Jews under Moses's instigation)
from their neighbours, and at the moment when the Egyptians believe the
Israelites to be occupied in harmless feastings, a reversed Sicilian vesper is
executed; the stranger murders the native, the guest the host; and, with a
horrible cunning, only the first-born are destroyed to the end that, in a land
where the first-born enjoyed such superior rights, the selfishness of the
younger sons might come into play, and instant punishment be avoided by hasty
flight.  The artifice succeeds, the assassins are thrust out instead of being
chastised."  (Quoted from pp. 99-100 "The Hebrews and the Red Sea," by
Alexander W. Thayer; Andover, Warren F. Draper, 1883.)  With respect to the
census of the Exodus, my friend Mr. Thayer, who has long and conscientiously
studied the subject, kindly supplied me with the following notes and permitted
their publication.

Trieste, October 11, 1887.

My Dear Sir Richard,

The points in the views presented by me in our conversation upon the Hebrews
and their Exodus, of which you requested a written exposition, are, condensed,

Assuming that the Hebrew records, as we have them, are in the main true, i.e.
historic, a careful search must reveal some one topic concerning which all the
passages relating to it agree at least substantially.  Such a topic is the
genealogies, precisely that which Philippsohn the great Jewish Rabbi, Dr.
Robinson, of the Palestine researches, and all the Jewish and Christian
commentators--I know no exception--with one accord, reject!  Look at these two
columns, A. being the passages containing the genealogies, B. the passages on
which the rejection of them is based:

1.  Genesis xxiv. 32 to xxv. 25 (Births of Jacob's sons).
2.  xxxv. 23-26 (Recapitulation of the above).
3.  xlvi. 8-27 (List of Jacob and his sons, when they came into Egypt).
4.  Ex. vi. 14-27 (Lineage of Aaron and Moses).
5.  Numb. xxxvi. 1-2 (Lineage of Zelophehad).
6.  Josh. vii. 17-18 (Lineage of Achan).
7.  Ruth iv. 18-22 (ditto of David).
8.  1 Chron. ii. 9-15 (ditto).
9.  Mat. i. 2-6 (ditto).
10.  Luke iii. 32-37 (ditto).
11.  Ezra vii. 1-5 (ditto of Ezra).

The lists of Princes, heads of tribes, the spies, the commission to divide
conquered Palestine, contain names that can be traced back, and all coincide
with the above.

1.  Gen. xv. 13.
2.  Ex. xii. 40, 41.
3.  Acts vii. 6.

These three give the 400 and the 430 years of the supposed bondage of the Bene
Jacob, but are offset by Gen. xv. 16 (four generations) and Gal. iii. 17
(Paul's understanding of the 430 years).

4.  The story of Joseph, beginning Gen. xxxvii. 2, gives us the dates in his
life; viz., 17 when sold, 30 when he becomes Prime Minister, 40 when his
father joins him.

5.  1 Chron. vi. 1-15 (Lineage of Ezra's brother Jehozadak, abounding in
repetitions and worthless).

1.  As between the two, the column A. is in my opinion more trustworthy than

2.  By all the genealogies of the Davidian line we have Judah No. 1, Solomon
No. 12.  By Ezra's genealogy of his own family we have Levi No. 1, and Azariah
(Solomon's High Priest) No. 12.  They agree perfectly.

3.  If there were 400 years of Hebrew (Bene Jacob) slavery between the death
of Joseph and the Exodus, there were 400 - 80 = 320, between Joseph's death
and the birth of Moses.  If this was so there is no truth in the accounts of
Moses and Aaron being the great-grandchildren of Levi (Levi, Kohath, Amram,
Aaron and Moses).  In fact, if Dr. Robinson be correct in saying that at least
six generations are wanting in the genealogies of David (to fill the 400
years) the same must be lacking in all the early genealogies.  Reductio ad

4.  Jacob, a young man, we will say of 40, is sent to Laban for a wife.  He
remains in Padan Aram twenty years (Gen. xxxi. 38), where all his sons except
Benjamin were born, that is, before he was 60.  At 130 he joined Joseph in
Egypt (Gen. xlvii. 9).  Joseph, therefore, born in Padan Aram was now, instead
of 40, over 70 years old!  That this is so, is certain.  In Judah's exquisite
pleadings (Gen. xliv. 18-34) he speaks of Benjamin as "the child of Jacob's
old age," "a little one," and seven times he calls him "the lad."  Benjamin is
some years younger than Joseph, but when the migration into Egypt takes
place-a few weeks after Judah's speech-Benjamin comes as father of ten sons
(Gen. xlvi. 21), but here Bene Benjamin is used in its broad sense of
"descendants," for in 1 Chron. vii. 6-12 we find that the "Bene" were sons,
grandsons and great-grandsons.  To hold that Joseph at 40 had a younger
brother who was a great-grandfather, is, of course, utterly absurd.

5.  According to Gen. xv. 18, the Exodus was to take place in the fourth
generation born in Egypt, as I understand it.

Born in Egypt:--

Levi (father of) Kohath                          Judah (father of) Pharez

1.  Amram                                          1.  Ram
2.  Aaron                                          2.  Amminadab
3.  Eleazar                                        3.  Nahshon
4.  Phinees                                        4.  Salma

A conspicuous character in Numbers (xiii. 6, 30; xiv. 24, etc.) is Caleb.  In
the first chapter of Judges Caleb still appears, and Othniel, the son of his
younger brother Kenaz, is the first of the so-called Judges (Jud. iii. 9).
This also disposes of the 400 years and confirms the view that the Exodus took
place in the fourth generation born in Egypt.  Other similar proofs may be
omitted--these are amply sufficient.

6.  What, then, was the origin of the notion of the 400 years of Hebrew

If the Egyptian inscriptions and papyri prove anything, it is this: that from
the subjugation of Palestine by one of the Thormes down to the great invasion
of the hordes from Asia Minor in the reign of Ramses III., that country had
never ceased to be a Pharaonic province; that during these four or five
centuries every attempt to throw off the yoke had been crushed and its Semitic
peoples deported to Egypt as slaves; that multitudes of them joined in the
Exodus under Moses, and became incorporated with the Hebrews under the
constitution and code adopted at Horeb (=Sinai? or Jebel Araif?).  These
people became "Seed of Abraham," "Children of Israel," by adoption, to which I
have no doubt Paul refers in the "adoption" of Romans viii. 15-23; ix. 4; Gal.
iv. 5; Eph. i. 5.  In the lapse of ages this distinction between Bene Israel
and Bene Jacob was forgotten, and therefore the very uncritical Masorites in
their edition of the Old Testament "confounded the confusion" in this matter.
With the disappearance of the 400 years and of the supposed two or three
centuries covered by the book of Judges, the genealogies stand as facts.  The
mistake in the case of the Judges is in supposing them to have been
consecutive, when, in fact, as the subjugations by neighbouring peoples were
local and extended only over one or two tribes, half a dozen of them may have
been contemporaneous.

7.  Aaron and Moses were by their father Amram, great-grandchildren of Levi-
-by their mother his grandchildren (Ex. vi. 20).  Joseph lived to see his own
great-grandchildren.  Moses must have been born before Joseph's death.

8.  There is one point determined in which the Hebrew and the Egyptian
chronologies coincide.  It is the invasion of Judea by Shishak of Egypt in the
fifth year of Rehoboam, son of Solomon (1 Kings xiv. 25).  Supposing the
Egyptian chronology from the time of Minephtah II. to be in the main correct,
as given by Brugsch and others, the thirteen generations, Judah--Rehoboam,
allowing three to a century, take us back to just that Minephtah.  In his
reign, according to Brugsch, Pharaoh sent breadstuffs to the Chittim in "the
time of famine."  The Hebrew records and traditions connect Joseph's prime
ministry with a famine.  By the genealogies it could have been only this in
the time of Minephtah.

9.  The Bene Jacob were but temporary sojourners in Goshen and always intended
to return to Canaan.  They were independent and had the right to do so.  See
what Joseph says in Gen. i. 24-25.  But before this design was executed came
the great irruption of the depopulated all Palestine, in the time of Ramses
III.  Here was the opportunity for the Bene Jacob to enlarge their plans and
to devise the conquest and possession of Palestine.  According to Josephus,
supported by Stephen (Acts vii. 22), Moses was a man "mighty in works"-a man
of military fame.  The only reasonable way of understanding the beginning of
the Exodus story, is to suppose that, in the weakened condition of Ramses
III., the Hebrew princes began to intrigue with the enslaved Semites-the
Ruthenu of the Egyptian inscriptions--and this being discovered by the
Pharaoh, Moses was compelled to fly.  Meantime the intrigues were continued
and when the time for action came, under one of Ramses' weak successors, Moses
was recalled and took command.

10.  This prepares us for the second query, which you proposed, that is as to
the numbers who joined in the Exodus.

The Masoretic text, from which the English version of the Hebrew records is
made, gives the result of the census at Sinai (=Horeb) as being 603,550 men,
"twenty years old and upwards, that were able to go forth to war in
Israel"-the tribe of Levi not included.  On this basis it has been generally
stated, that the number of the Bene Israel at the Exodus was three millions.
Of late I find that two millions is the accepted number.  The absurdity of
even this aggregate is manifest.  How could such a vast multitude be
subsisted?  How kept in order?  How compelled to observe sanitary regulations?
Moreover, in the then enfeebled state of Egypt, why should 603,550 armed men
not have marched out without ceremony?  Why ask permission to go to celebrate
a sacrifice to their God?

But there is another series of objections to these two millions, which I have
never seen stated or even hinted, to which I pray your attention.

The area of Palestine differs little from that of the three American States,
Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut, the most densely peopled of the
Union, containing by the last census a population of somewhat less than two
and a half millions.

By the second Hebrew census (Numb. xxvi.) taken just before the death of
Moses, the army was 601,730; from which the inference has always been drawn,
that at least 2,000,000, in the aggregate, Levites 23,000 males still
excepted, entered and possessed the conquered territories.

Take now one of the late maps of Palestine and mark upon it the boundaries of
the tribes as given in the book of Joshua.  This second census gives the
number of each tribal army to be inserted in each tribal territory.  Reuben,
43,750; Judah, 76,500; Benjamin, 45,600, etc., etc.  By Josh. xii. the land
was then divided between some 40 petty kings and peoples, 31 of whom are named
as having been subjected.  If, now, Joshua's army numbered over 600,000, why
was not the conquest made complete?  Massachusetts, Rhode Island and
Connecticut are divided into 27 counties.  Suppose, now, that these counties
were each a separate and independent little kingdom dependent upon itself for
defence, what resistance could be made to an army of 600,000 men, all of them
grown up during forty years of life in a camp, and in the full vigour of
manhood?  And yet Joshua was unable to complete his conquest!  Again, the
first subjugation of a part of the newly-conquered territory as noted in the
book of Judges, was Judah and Simeon by a king of Edom.[FN#232]  If Judah
could put an army into the field of 76,500, and Simeon 22,500, their
subjugation by a king of Edom is incredible, and the story absurd.  Next comes
King Eglon of Moab and subjugates the tribes of Reuben and Gad, east of the
Dead Sea and the Jordan.  And yet Reuben has an army of over 43,000, and Gad
45,000.  And so on.

With an army of 60,000 only, and an aggregate of half a million of people led
out of Egypt, all the history becomes instantly rational and trustworthy.

There remains one more bubble to be exploded.

Look at these figures, in which a quadruple increase--at least 25 per centum
too great--is granted.[FN#233]

1st Generation, the Patriarchs, in number. . . . . . . . . . . 12
2nd  Generation,  Kohath, Pharez, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . ..48
3rd  Generation,  Amram, Hezron, etc.. . . . . . . . . . . . .192
4th  Generation,  Aaron and Moses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .768
           Aggregate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,020
Minus 25 per cent. for deaths, children, etc.. . . . . . . . .255
Actual number of Bene Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .765

But Jacob and his sons brought with them herdsmen, shepherds, servants, etc.
Bunsen puts the number of all, masters and men, at less than 2,000.

Let the proportion in this case be one able-bodied man in four persons, and
the increase triple.

1st Generation, the Patriarchs, in number. . . . . . . . . . .500
2nd  Generation,  Kohath, Pharez, etc. . . . . . . . . . . .1,500
3rd  Generation,  Amram, Hezron, etc.. . . . . . . . . . . .4,500
4th  Generation,  Aaron and Moses. . . . . . . . . . . . . 13,500
Minus 25 per centum as above . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5,000
Add the real Bene Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .765

Aggregate. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15,765

Were these people, while Joseph is still alive, the subjects of slavery as
described in Ex. i.?  Did they build Pithom and Ramses, store-cities?

The number is sufficient to lead in the great enterprise and to control the
mixed multitude which was at Sinai, adopted as "Bene Israel," "Seed of
Abraham," and divided among and incorporated with the tribes; but not
sufficient to warrant the supposition that with so small a force the Hebrew
leaders could for a moment have entertained the project of conquering

A word more on the statement in Ex. i. 11: "And they built for Pharaoh
store-cities, Pithom and Ramses."  All Egyptologists agree that these cities
were built by Ramses II., or certainly not later than his reign.  If the
Hebrew genealogies are authentic, this was long before the coming of Jacob and
his sons into Egypt.

(Signed) A.W. Thayer

                        COOK OF BAGHDAD.

Here we begin with the aidance of Allah Almighty, the Tale of the
Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad.[FN#234]

It is related (and Allah is All knowing!) of a certain man which
was a Warlock, that Destiny crave him from town to town until at
last he entered Baghdad city and dismounted at a Kh\xE1n of the
Khans where he spent the night of arrival. Then, rising betimes
next morning, he walked about the highways and wandered around
the lanes and he stinted not passing from market street to market
street, solacing himself with a sight of many places, till he
reached the Long Bazar, whence he could descry the whole site of
the city. Now he narrowly considered the land, and, lo and
behold! it was a capital sans peer amongst the cities,
where-through coursed the Dajlah River blended with the River
Fur\xE1t[FN#235] and over the united stream were thrown seven
bridges of boats; all these were bound one to other for the folk
to pass over on their several pursuits, especially for the
pleasure seekers who fared forth to the palm orchards and the
vergiers abounding in fruits while the birds were hymning Allah,
the Sole, the All-conquering. Now one day as this Warlock was
amusing himself amongst the markets he passed by the shop of a
Cook before whom were set for sale dressed meats of all kinds and
colours;[FN#236] and, looking at the youth, he saw that he was
rising fourteen and beautiful as the moon on the fourteenth
night; and he was elegant and habited in a habit as it had just
come from the tailor's hand for its purity and excellent fit, and
one had said that he (the artisan) had laboured hard thereat, for
the sheen of it shimmered like unto silver.[FN#237] Then the
Warlock considering the face of this Cook saw his colour wan as
the hue of metal leaves[FN#238] and he was lean of limb;[FN#239]
so he took station facing him and said to him, "The Peace be upon
thee, O my brother," and said the other in reply, "And upon thee
be The Peace and the Truth of Allah and His blessings: so well
come to thee and welcome and fair welcome. Honour me, O my lord,
by suffering me to serve thee with the noonday meal." Hereat the
Wizard entered the shop and the Kitchener took up two or three
platters white as the whitest silver; and, turning over into each
one a different kind of meat set them between the hands of the
stranger who said to him, "Seat thee, O my son." And when his
bidding was obeyed he added, "I see thee ailing and thy
complexion is yellow exceedingly: what be this hath affected thee
and what is thy disorder and what limb of thy limbs paineth thee
and is it long since thou art in such case?" Now when the Cook
heard this say he drew a sigh of regret from the depths of his
heart and the soles of his feet and quoth he weeping, "Allah upon
thee, O my lord, remind me not of that hath betided me!" But
quoth the other, "Tell me what may be thy disease and whereof
cost thou complain; nor conceal from me thy pain; for that I am a
physician and by aidance of Allah an experienced; and I have a
medicine for thy malady." Hereat the youth fell to moaning and
groaning and presently replied, "In very sooth, O my lord, I have
nor pain nor complaint, save that I am a lover." The Warlock
asked, "Art thou indeed a lover?" whereto the Cook make answer,
"And not only a lover but a lover parted from his beloved." "On
whom hangeth thy heart, say me?" continued the Mediciner and the
youth replied, "Leave me for the nonce till such time as I am
quit of my business, and return to me about mid-afternoon, that I
may inform thee of mine affair and acquaint thee with the case I
am in." The Warlock rejoined, "Arise now to thy work lest it be
miswrought by loitering;" and so saying he ate whatso of meats
had been served up to him and fared forth to thread the Bazars of
Baghdad and solace himself by seeing the city. But when it was
the hour of Al 'Asr--the mid afternoon prayer--he went back to
the Cook and found that by this time he had wrought all his work,
and as soon as the youth sighted him he rejoiced in him and his
spirits were cheered and he said in his mind, "Haply joy shall
come to me from the healing hand of this Mediciner;" so he shut
his shop and taking with him his customer tried him to his own
home. Now this young Kitchener was of amplest means which he had
inherited from either parent; so as soon as they entered his
quarters he served up food and the two ate and drank and were
gladdened and comforted. After this quoth the guest to his host,
"Now relate to me the manner of thy story and what is the cause
of thy disorder?" "O my lord," quoth the youth, "I must inform
thee that the Caliph Al-Mu'tazid bi'llah,[FN#240] the Commander
of the Faithful, hath a daughter fair of favour, and gracious of
gesture; beautiful delightsome and dainty of waist and flank, a
maiden in whom all the signs and signals of loveliness are
present, and the tout ensemble is independent of description:
seer never saw her like and relator never related of aught that
eveneth her in stature and seemlihead and graceful bearing of
head. Now albeit a store of suitors galore, the grandees and the
Kings, asked her from the Caliph, her sire refused to part with
her, nor gave her neither would he give her to any one thereof.
And every Friday when fare the folk to the Mosques that they pray
the prayers of meeting-day, all the merchants and men who buy and
sell and the very artisans and what not, leave their shops and
warehouses[FN#241] and taverns[FN#242] unbolted and wide open and
flock to congregational devotions. And at such time this rare
maiden cometh down from her palace and solaceth herself with
beholding the Bazars and anon she entereth the Hammam and batheth
therein and straightway goeth forth and fareth homewards. But one
Friday said I to myself, 'I will not go to the Mosque, for I
would fain look upon her with a single look;' and when prayer-
time came and the folk flocked to the fane for divine service, I
hid myself within my shop Presently that august damsel appeared
with a comitive of forty handmaidens all as full moons newly
risen and each fairer than her fellows, while she amiddlemost
rained light upon them as she were the irradiating sun; and the
bondswomen would have kept her from sight by thronging around her
and they carried her skirts by means of bent rods[FN#243] golden
and silvern. I looked at her but one look when straightway my
heart fell in love to her burning as a live coal and from mine
eyes tears railed and until now I am still in that same yearning,
and what yearning!" And so saying the youth cried out with an
outcry whereby his soul was like to leave his body. "Is this case
still thy case?" asked the Warlock, and the youth answered, "Yes,
O my lord;" when the other enquired, "An I bring thee and her
together what wilt thou give me?" and the young Cook replied, "My
money and my life which shall be between thy hands!" Hereupon
quoth the Mediciner, "Up with thee and bring me a phial of metal
and seven needles and a piece of fresh Lign-aloes;[FN#244] also a
bit of cooked meat,[FN#245] and somewhat of sealing-clay and the
shoulder-blade of a sheep together with felt and sendal of seven
kinds." The youth fared forth and did his bidding, when the Sage
took the shoulder-blades and wrote upon them Koranic versets and
adjurations which would please the Lord of the Heavens and,
wrapping them in felt, swathed them with silken stuff of
sevenfold sorts. Then, taking the phial he thrust the seven
needles into the green Lign-aloes and set it in the cooked meat
which he made fast with the sealing clay. Lastly he conjured over
these objects with a Conjuration[FN#246] which was, "I have
knocked, I have knocked at the hall doors of Earth to summon the
J\xE1nn, and the J\xE1nn have knocked for the J\xE1nn against the
Shayt\xE1n." Hereat appeared to me the son of Al bin Imr\xE1n[FN#247]
with a snake and baldrick'd with a basilisk and cried, "Who be
this trader and son of a slave-girl who hath knocked at the
ground for us this evening?" "Then do thou, O youth, reply, 'I am
a lover and of age youthful and my love is to a young lady; and
unto your gramarye I have had recourse, O folk of manliness and
generosity and masterful deeds: so work ye with me and confirm
mine affair and aid me in this matter. See ye not how Such an
one, daughter of Such an one, oppression and wrong to me hath
done, nor is she with me in affection as she was anon?' They
shall answer thee, 'Let it be, as is said, in the tail;'[FN#248]
then do thou set the objects upon a fire exceeding fierce and
recite then over them, 'This be the business; and were Such-an-
one, daughter of Such-an-one, within the well of K\xE1sh\xE1n[FN#249]
or in the city Ispahan or in the towns of men who with cloaks
buttoned tight and ever ready good fame to blight,[FN#250] let
her come forth and seek union with the beloved.' Whereto she will
reply 'Thou art the lord and I am the bondswoman.' " Now the
youth abode marvelling at such marvel-forms and the Warlock
having repeated to him these words three times, turned to him and
said "Arise to thy feet and perfume and fumigate thy person and
don thy choicest dress and dispread thy bed, for at this very
hour thou shalt see thy mistress by thy side." And so saying the
Sage cast out of hand the shoulder-blades and set the phial upon
the fire. Thereupon the youth arose without stay or delay and
bringing a bundle of raiment the rarest, he spread it and habited
himself, doing whatso the Wizard had bidden him; withal could he
not believe that his mistress would appear. However ere a scanty
space of time had elapsed, lo and behold! the young lady bearing
her bedding[FN#251] and still sleeping passed through the house
door and she was bright and beautiful as the easting sun. But
when the youth the Cook sighted her, he was perplex" and his wits
took flight with his sense and he cried aloud saying, "This be
naught save a wondrous matter!" "And the same," quoth the Sage,
"is that requiredst thou." Quoth the Cook, "And thou, O my lord
art of the Hallows of Allah," and kissed his hand and thanked him
for his kindly deed. "Up with thee and take thy pleasure," cried
the Warlock; so the lover crept under the coverlet into the bed
and he threw his arms round the fair one and kissed her between
the eyes; after which he bussed her on the mouth. She sensed a
sensation in herself and straightway awaking opened her eyes and
beheld a youth embracing her, so she asked him, "Ho thou, who art
thou?" Answered he, "One by thine eyes a captive ta'en and of thy
love the slain and of none save thyself the fain." Hereat she
looked at him with a look which her heart for love longing struck
and again asked him, "O my beloved; say me then, who art thou, a
being of mankind or of J\xE1nn-kind?" whereto he answered, "I am
human and of the most honourable." She resumed, "Then who was it
brought me hither to thee?" and he responded, "The Angels and the
Spirits, the Jinns and the Jann." "Then I swear thee, O my
dearling," quoth she, "that thou bid them bear me hither to thine
arms every night," and quoth he, "Hearkening and obeying, O my
lady, and for me also this be the bourne of all wishes." Then,
each having kissed other, they slept in mutual embrace until
dawn. But when the morning morrowed and showed its sheen and
shone, behold, the Warlock appeared and, calling the youth who
came to him with a smiling face, said to him, "How was it with
thy soul this night?"[FN#252] and both lovers cried, "We were in
the Garden of Paradise together with the Hur and Ghilman:[FN#253]
Allah requite thee for us with all weal." Then they passed into
the Hammam and when they had bathed, the youth said, "O my lord,
what shall we do with the young lady and how shall she hie to her
household and what shall be the case of me without her?" "Feel no
grief," said the other, "and quit all care of anything: e'en as
she came so shall she go; nor shall any of Almighty Allah's
creatures know aught of her." Hereat the Sage dismissed her by
the means which conveyed her, nor did she cease to bear her
bedding with her every night and to visit the youth with all
joyance and delight. Now after a few weeks had gone by, this
young lady happening to be upon the terrace roof of her palace in
company with her mother, turned her back to the sun, and when the
heat struck her between the shoulders her belly swelled; so her
parent asked her, "O my daughter, what hast thou that thou
justest out after this wise?" "I wot naught thereof," answered
she; so the mother put forth her hand to the belly of her child
and found her pregnant; whereupon she screamed and buffeted her
face and asked, "Whence did this befal thee?" The women-
attendants all heard her cries and running up to her enquired,
"What hath caused thee, O our lady, such case as this?" whereto
she replied, "I would bespeak the Caliph." So the women sought
him and said, "O our lord, thou art wanted by our lady;" and he
did their bidding and went to his wife, but at first sight he
noted the condition of his daughter and asked her, "What is to do
with thee and what hath brought on thee such calamity?" Hereupon
the Princess told him how it was with her and he exclaimed as he
heard it, "O my daughter, I am the Caliph and Commander of the
Faithful, and thou hast been sought to wife of me by the Kings of
the earth one and all, but thou didst not accept them as
connections and now thou doest such deed as this! I swear the
most binding oaths and I vow by the tombs of my sires and my
grandsires, an thou say me sooth thou shalt be saved; but unless
thou tell me truth concerning whatso befel thee and from whom
came this affair and the quality of the man's intention thee-
wards, I will slaughter thee and under earth I will sepulchre
thee." Now when the Princess heard from her father's mouth these
words and had pondered this swear he had sworn she replied, "O my
sire, albeit lying may save yet is truth-telling the more saving
side. Verily, O my father, 'tis some time before this day that my
bed beareth me up every night and carrieth me to a house of the
houses wherein dwelleth a youth, a model of beauty and
loveliness, who causeth every seer to languish; and he beddeth
with me and sleepeth by my side until dawn, when my couch
uplifteth me and returneth with me to the Palace: nor wot I the
manner of my going and the mode of my coming is alike unknown to
me." The Caliph hearing these her words marvelled at this her
tale with exceeding marvel and fell into the uttermost of
wonderment, but bethinking him of his Wazir, a man of penetrative
wit, sagacious, astute, argute exceedingly, he summoned him to
the presence and acquainted him as soon as he came with this
affair and what had befallen his daughter; to wit, how she was
borne away in her bed without knowing whither or aught else.
Quoth the Minister after taking thought for a full told hour, "O
Caliph of the Time and the Age, I have a device by whose virtue I
do opine we shall arrive at the stead whither wendeth the
Princess;" and quoth the Caliph "What may be this device of
thine?" "Bid bring me a bag;" rejoined the Wazir, "which I will
let fill with millet;"[FN#254] so they brought him one and he
after stuffing the same with grain set it upon the girl's bed and
close to her where lay her head, leaving the mouth open to the
intent that when during the coming night her couch might be
carried away, the millet in going and returning might be shed
upon the path. "Allah bless thee, Ho thou the Wazir!" cried the
Caliph: "this device of thine is passing good and fair fall it
for a sleight than which naught can be slyer and good luck to it
for a proof than which naught can be better proven." Now as soon
as it was even-tide, the couch was carried off as had happened
every night and the grain was strown broad cast upon the path,
like a stream, from the gateway of the Palace to the door of the
young Cook's lodging, wherein the Princess righted as was her
wont until dawn of day. And when morn appeared the Sage came and
carried off with him the youth to the Hammam where he found
privacy and said to him, "O my son, an thou ask me aught touching
thy mistress's kith and kin, I bid thee know that they have
indeed discovered her condition and against thee they have
devised a device." Exclaimed the youth, "Verily we are Allah's
and unto Him are we returning! What may be thy rede in this
affair? An they slay me I shall be a martyr on Allah's
path;[FN#255] but do thou wend thy ways and save thyself and may
the Almighty requite thee with all of welfare; thee, through whom
mine every wish I have won, and the whole of my designs I have
fulfilled; after which let them do with me as they desire." The
Warlock replied, "O my son, grieve not neither fear, for naught
shall befal thee of harm, and I purpose to show thee marvels and
miracles wroughten upon them." When the youth heard these words
his spirits were cheered, and joying with joy exceeding he
replied, "Almighty Allah reward thee for me with fullest
welfare!" Then the twain went forth the Hammam and tried them
home. But as soon as morning morrowed, the Wazir repaired to the
Caliph; and, both going to the Princess together, found her in
her bower and the bag upon her bed clean empty of millet, at
sight of which the Minister exclaimed, "Now indeed we have caught
our debtor. Up with us and to horse, O Caliph of the Age, and sum
and substance of the Time and the Tide, and follow we the millet
and track its trail." The Com mender of the Faithful forthright
gave orders to mount, and the twain, escorted by their host, rode
forth on the traces of the grain till they drew near the house,
when the youth heard the jingle and jangle[FN#256] of horses'
tramp and the wrangle and cangle of men's outcries. Upon this
said the Cook to the Warlock, "Here they draw near to seize me, O
my lord, what is there now for me to do?" and said the other,
"Rise and fill me an ewer with water then mount therewith to the
terrace-roof and pour the contents round and about the house,
after which come down to me." The youth did his bidding, and
meanwhile the Caliph and the Wazir and the soldiery had
approached the house when, lo and behold! the site had become an
island amiddlemost a main dashing with clashing billows.[FN#257]
But when the Commander of the Faithful sighted this sea, he was
perplexed with mighty great perplexity and enquired of the Wazir,
"At what time did such great water appear in this place?" The
Minister replied, "I never knew that here was any stream, albe
well I wot that the Tigris river floweth amiddlemost the capital;
but this is a magical current." So saying he bade the soldiery
urge their horses into the water sans fear, and every one crave
as he had directed until all who entered lost their lives and a
many of men were drowned. Hereupon cried the Prince of True
Believers, "O Wazir, we are about to destroy our host and to fare
with them!" and cried the other, "How shall we act, O Caliph of
the Age? Haply our first, nay our best way, is to ask help of
those within the house and grant to them indemnity while they
exchange words with us and we see anon what will come of their
affair." "Do as beseemeth thee," answered the Prince of True
Believers; whereupon the Minister commanded his men to cry aloud
upon the household and they sued for help during a length of
time. But the Sage, hearing their shouts, said to the youth,
"Arise and go up to the terrace and say to the Caliph of the Age,
'Thou art in safety; turn away thy steps hence and presently we
will meet thy Highness in health and weal; otherwise[FN#258] thy
daughter shall be lost and thine army shall be destroyed, and
thou, O Commander of the Faithful, wilt depart and return as one
outdriven. Do thou wend thy ways: this be not the mode of meeting
us and in such manner there is no management.' " The Cook did as
he was bidden, and when the twain heard his words, quoth the
Wazir to the Caliph, "Verily these be naught save Magicians,
otherwise they must be of the fulsomest of the Jann, for indeed
never heard we nor saw we aught of this." Hereupon the Prince of
True Believers turned his back upon the place and he sorrowful
and strait of breast and disheartened of heart; so he went down
to his Palace and sat there for a full-told hour when behold, the
Warlock and the Cook appeared before him. But as soon as they
stood in the presence the Caliph cried out, "O Linkman, bring me
the head of yonder youth from between his shoulders!" Hereupon
the Executioner came forward and tearing a strip off the youth's
robe-skirt bandaged his eyes; then he walked thrice round about
him brandishing his blade over the victim's head and lastly
cried, "O Caliph of the Age, shall I make away with this youth?"
Answered the Caliph, "Yes, after thou shalt have stricken off his
head." Hearing this the Sworder raised his hand and smote, when
suddenly his grip was turned backwards upon a familiar of his who
stood beside him, and it lighted upon his neck with such force
that his head hew off and fell at the Caliph's feet. The King and
the Wazir, were perplexed at this affair, and the former cried
out, "What be this? Art gone blind, O Bhang eater, that thy
stroke hath missed the mark and thou hast not known thy familiar
from this youth who kneeleth before thee? Smite him without
delay!" Hereupon the Linkman again raised his hand to obey his
lord, but the blow fell upon the neck of his varlet and the head
flew off and rolled at the feet of the Caliph and his Chief
Councillor. At this second mishap the wits of all present were
bewildered and the King cried, "What business is this, O Wazir,
whereto the other made answer, "O Caliph of the Time and rare
gift of the Age and the Tide, what canst thou do, O my lord, with
such as these? And whoso availeth to take away o' nights thy
daughter upon her bed and dispread a sea around his house, the
same also hath power to tear thy kingdom from thy grasp; nay
more, to practice upon thy life. Now 'tis my rede that thou rise
and kiss the hand of this Sage and sue his protection,[FN#259]
lest he work upon us worse than this. Believe me, 'twere better
for thee, O my lord, to do as I bid thee and thus 'twill be well
for us rather than to rise up as adversaries of this man."
Hearing such words from his Minister, the King bade them raise
the youth from the strip of blood-rug and remove the bandage from
before his eyes, after which he rose to his feet, and, kissing
the Warlock's hand, said to him, "In very sooth we knew thee not
nor were we ware of the measure of thine excellence. But, O
teacher of the Time and sum and substance of revolving Tide, why
hast thou wrought to me on this wise in the matter of my daughter
and destroyed my servants and soldiers?" "O Viceregent of Allah
upon His Earth," replied the Sage, "I am a stranger, and having
eaten bread and salt with this youth, I formed friendship and
familiarity with him: then, seeing his case which was sad and his
state which was marvellous as it had afflicted him with sickness,
I took compassion upon him; moreover I designed to show you all
what I am and what Almighty Allah hath taught me of occult
knowledge. Hitherto there hath been naught save weal, and now I
desire of thy favour that thou marry thy daughter to this youth,
my familiar, for that she suiteth none other save himself." Quoth
the Caliph, "This proceeding I look upon as the fittest and it
besitteth us that we obey thy bidding." Presently he robed the
youth with a sumptuous robe worth the kingdom of a King, and
commanded him to sit beside the presence and seated the Sage upon
a chair of ebony-wood. Now whilst they were in converse the
Warlock turned round and beheld arear of the Caliph a hanging of
sendal whereupon stood figured lions twain: so he signed with his
hand to these forms which were mighty huge of limb and awesome to
look upon, when each put forth his paw upon his fellow and both
roared with roars like unto the bellow of ear-rending thunder.
Hereat all present were perplex in the extreme and were in
admiration at that matter and especially the Prince of True
Believers who cried, "O Wazir what seest thou in this business?"
The Wazir replied, "O Caliph of the Age, verily Allah Almighty to
thee hath sent this Sage that He[FN#260] might show thee such
marvels as these." Then the Warlock signalled with his hand to
the lions which shrank till they became as cats which carried on
the combat; and both Caliph and Wazir wondered thereat with
excessive wonderment. Anon quoth the King to the Minister, "Bid
the Sage display to us more of his marvels;" and accordingly the
Wazir obeyed his lord's be hest, and the Warlock replied, "To
hear is to obey." He then said, "Bring hither to me a chauldron
full of water;" and when it was brought he asked the Courtiers,
"Which of you would divert himself?" "I," quoth the Wazir; when
quoth the Sage, "Do thou rise to thy feet and doff thy robes and
gird thee with a zone:" whereto said the other, "Bring me a
waistcloth;" and when it was brought he did therewith as he was
bidden. Hereat said the Warlock, "Seat thee in the centre of the
chauldron;" so he plunged into the water, but when he would have
seated him amiddlemost thereof as ordered he saw only that he had
entered a sea dashing with surges clashing wherein whoso goeth is
lost to view, and whence whoso cometh is born anew; and he fell
to swimming from side to side intending to issue forth, while the
waves suffered him not to make the shore. And while he was in
this case behold, a billow of the billows vomited[FN#261] him up
from the sea to the strand and he stood on dry land, when he
surveyed his person and suddenly saw that he had become a woman
with the breasts of a woman and the solution of continuity like a
woman, and long black hair flowing down to his heels even as a
woman's. Then said he to himself, "O ill- omened diversion! What
have I done with such unlucky disport that I have looked upon
this marvel and wonder of wonderments, only to become a
woman.[FN#262] Verily we are Allah's, and unto Him shall we
return;" adding as he took thought of the matter and of what had
befallen him, "There is no Majesty and there is no Might save in
Allah, the Glorious, the Great." Presently a Fisherman approached
him and sighting a fair girl said, "This be none other than a
blessed day which Allah hath opened to us with a beautiful maiden
for quarry; and she is doubtless of the Daughters of the Deep,
whom Allah Almighty hath sent to us that I may espouse her to my
son." Hearing these words said the transformed to himself, "Now
after being a Wazir I have become a woman and this be for that as
tit for tat,[FN#263] and the wight furthermore desireth to see me
married, and as for the Caliph and the kingdom and the countries,
who shall now be able to offer them counsel?" But the Fisherman
who for his joyance had no stomach to ply his pursuit, as was his
custom, forthwith arose and taking with him the Daughter of the
Deep led her to his house, and on entering the door cried aloud
to his wife, "This day hath been a lucky for my fishing craft:
during all these years it never befel me to happen upon a Mermaid
save on this best-omened of all the days,\xF6 adding, "Where is thy
son, to whom Allah hath sent this Daughter of the Daughters of
the Main; and hath made her his portion and vouchsafed her to his
service? for 'tis my design to marry them." Replied the woman,
"He hath taken the beasts and hath fared forth to pasture it and
plough therewith; but right soon will he return.[FN#264] And
whilst they were thus conversing the youth came forward, and the
Wazir on sighting him groaned and cried, Well-away for me! this
very night I shall become a bride for this blamed lad[FN#265] to
sleep withal. And if I say to them, 'What intent have ye? Ye are
in meanness and misery[FN#266] while I am Wazir to the Caliph;'
they will never believe me for that I have become a woman, and
all thereto appertaining now belongeth to me. Alack and alas for
that I did with mine own self; indeed what business had I with
such diversion?" Hereupon the fisherman called out, "O my son, up
with thee and straightway take this Mermaid and marry her and
abate her pucelage and be blessed with her and enjoy thy joy with
her during all the days of thy life-tide: doubtless, O my child,
thou art in all boon fortune, seeing that what good befel thee
never betided any before thee nor will become the lot of one
after thee." So the youth arose and for his delight hardly
believing in his conquest, married her and lay with her and did
away her maidenhead and on that very night she conceived by him.
After nine months she bare him issue and the couple ceased not to
be after this fashion till she had become a mother of seven. But
the Wazir, of his stress and excess of the trouble and the
travail he endured, said to himself, "How long shall last this
toil and torment wherewith I am liver-smitten and that too by
mine own consent? So e'en will I arise and hie me to this sea and
hurl me thereinto and whatso shall become of me let it be: haply
I may find rest from these torments into which I have fallen."
And forthright he arose and sought the shore and did as he had
devised, when a wave enveloped him and cast him deep into the
depths and he was like to choke, when suddenly his head protruded
from the chauldron and he was seated as before he had ducked it.
Hereupon he saw the Caliph sitting in state with the Sage by his
side and all the Lords of the land and the Notables of the
commons awaiting the end of his adventure. So he gazed at them
and showed a smiling face[FN#267] and laughed aloud when the
Prince of True Believers asked him saying, "What hast thou seen,
O Wazir?" So he repeated to the Sovran all he had sighted and
everything that had come down upon his head, presently adding, "O
Caliph of the Age and the sum and sub stance of the Time and the
Tide, what be these marvels wrought by this Sage? Verily I have
beheld the garths of Paradise[FN#268] with maidens of the H\xFAr and
the youths of Heaven, and wonderments galore unlooked upon by
mankind at all, at all. But, an thou be pleased, O Commander of
the Faithful, to espy these rare spectacles and marvellous
conditions with thine own eyes, deign go down into the water; so
shalt thou divert thyself with peregrine matters and adventures
seld-seen." The Sultan, delighted at this rede, arose and doffed
his dress; then, girding his loins with a zone, he entered the
chauldron whereat the Sage cried out to him, "O my lord, sit thee
down and duck thy head." But when this was done the Caliph found
himself in a bottomless sea and wide dispread and never at rest
by any manner of means, so he fell to swimming therein, when a
huge breaker threw him high ashore and he walked up the beach
mother-naked save for his zone. So he said in his mind, "Let me
see what hath been wrought with me by the Sage and the Wazir who
have thus practiced upon me and have cast me in this place; and
haply they have married my daughter to the youth, and they have
stolen my kingdom, the Sage becoming Sultan in my stead. And now
let me ask myself, 'What had I to do with such damned diversion
as this?'" But as he brooded over these thoughts and the like of
them behold, a bevy of maidens came forwards to fill their
pitchers from a fountain and a pool of sweet water lying beside
the sea; and sighting him they exclaimed, "Thou, who art thou?
say sooth be thou of man-kind or rather haply of Jinn-kind?" He
replied, "I am a mortal and of the noblest-born; withal I am a
stranger in the land and I wot not whither I should wend." "Of
what country art thou?" asked they, and he answered, "I am from
Baghdad." "Up with thee," quoth one of the damsels, "to yonder
knoll, then down to the flat on the further side, and thou shalt
sight a city whose name is 'Om\xE1n,[FN#269] whereinto do thou
enter." The Caliph did her bidding, and no sooner had the people
seen him stripped than they said one to other, "This man is a
merchant who hath been shipwrecked;" so they gave him by way of
almsgift a Tobe[FN#270] all tattered and torn wherewith he veiled
his shame. And after so doing he fell to wandering about the city
for pastime, and while walking about he passed into a Bazar and
there sighted a cook, before whom he stood open mouthed (for
indeed famine had thinned him), and he bethought him of what to
do, and he knew not how to act. However the cook at first sight
was certified of his being a foreigner, and haply a shipwrecked
mariner so he asked him, "O my brother, why cost thou not come in
and sit thee down, for thou art a stranger and without means; so
in the way of Allah I would engage thy services and will pay thee
daily two dirhams to provide thee with meat and drink." Answered
the Caliph, "Hearing and obeying," after which he abode with the
cook and served him and stinted not to serve him for a long time,
saying in himself the while, "This for that is tit for tat! and
after the Caliphate and commandment and happiness and honour,
this day art thou left to lick the platters. What had I to do
with such diversion as this? Withal 'tis fairer than the
spectacle that anyone even my Wazir ever saw and the more
excellent, for that I after being the Caliph of the Age, and the
choice gift of the Time and Tide have now become the hireling of
a cook. Would to Heaven I wot the sin which brought me
hereto?"[FN#271] Now as he abode with the cook it befel him that
one day he threaded the Jewellers' Bazar; for about that city was
a sea-site whereinto the duckers and divers went down and whence
they brought up pearls and corals and precious stones; and as he
stood in the market-place, quoth he to himself, "Let me here
become a broker in this market street and find rest from my
groaning in labour and my licking of platters." As soon as
morning morrowed he did on such wise, when suddenly a merchant
approached him, hending in hand a costly gem whose light burned
like a lamp or rather like a ray of sunshine, and 'twas worth the
tribute of Egypt and Syria. Hereat the Caliph marvelled with
exceeding marvel, and quoth he to the trader, "Say me, wilt thou
sell this jewel?" and quoth the other, "Yes." So the Sultan
taking it from him went about with it amongst the merchants, who
seeing and considering it, wondered greatly at its beauty.
Accordingly they bid for it fifty thousand diners, but the royal
broker ceased not to bear it about and the buyers to increase
their biddings till they offered an hundred thousand gold pieces.
Thereupon the Caliph returned with it to the owner and accosted
him saying, "Wilt thou sell it for the sum named?" and when the
merchant consented, he continued, "I now go to receive its price,
wherewith I will come back to thee." Then the broker went up to
the buyer and said, "Bring hither its value and set it in my
hand;" but the man asked him, "Where be its owner?" and the
Caliph answered, "Its owner hath commissioned me to receive its
price, after which he will come and recover the same from me."
However the bidder retorted, "This be not fitting nor is it
according to Holy Law: do thou bring me its owner; then come and
let him pouch the price, for 'tis he hath sold it to me and thou
art only our agent." Hereupon the Caliph went forth to seek the
proprietor and wandered about a long while without finding him;
after which he again accosted the purchaser, and said to him, "I
am the rightful proprietor: place the price in my hand." The
buyer arose to pay his debt, but before so doing he considered
the jewel and saw that it was a bit of dark Sandarach;[FN#272]
whereat he was sore perplex" and cried out to the Caliph, "O
Satan, cost thou palm off false wares, the market-place of the
merchants being under the orders of the Sultan?" But when the
traders heard these words, they flocked around the pretended
broker and having seized him they pinioned his elbows and dragged
him before the Sovran of that city who, when they set the
prisoner before him, asked, "What be the offence of this man?" "O
our honoured lord," answered they, "this wight palmeth off false
wares and swindleth the traders in the royal Bazar." So the King
commanded them to hang him, whereat they charged his neck with
chains and bared his head, and bade the cryer cry, "This be his
award and the least of awards who forgeth counterfeits and who
tricketh the merchant folk in the market-place of the Sultan."
Hereat quoth the Caliph to himself, "I was not content with
platter licking, which now appeareth to me a mighty pleasant
calling but e'en I must become a broker and die sus. per coll.
This be for that tit for tat; how ever, scant blame to the Time
which hath charged me with this work." Now when they brought him
to the hanging place and threw the loop around his neck and fell
to hoisting him up, as he rose from the ground his eyes were
opened and he found himself emerging from the chauldron, whilst
the Wazir and the Sage and the youth were sitting and considering
him. And the Minister catching sight of his lord sprang to his
feet and kissed ground before him, and laughed aloud, and the
Commander of the Faithful asked him, "Why this laughter?"
Answered he, "O thou, the Prince of True Believers and God-
guarded Sovran, my laughter and my gladness are for myself,
seeing that I have recovered my identity after becoming a woman
and being wedded to a ploughman, who eared the ground, and after
bearing to him seven babes." Cried the Caliph, "Woe to thee, O
dog, O son of a dog, thou west married and rejoicedst in
children, whereas I this very moment from the hanging-place have
come down." Then he informed the Wazir of all that had befallen
him and the Minister did on like guise, whereat all those present
laughed consumedly and marvelled at the words of the Warlock, and
his proficiency in occult knowledge. Then the Kazi and witnesses
were summoned with their writing gear and were bidden draw up the
marriage-contract of the young Cook and the Caliph's daughter.
After this the Sage sojourned with the Commander of the Faithful
in highmost degree and most honourable dignity, and they abode
eating and drinking and living the most delectable of lives and
the most enjoyable with all manner of joy and jollity, till came
to them the Destroyer of delights and the Divider of man's days
and they departed life one and all.



Here we begin to indite the pleasant History which beset between
the Cock and the Fox.[FN#273]

It is said that there abode in such a village a man which was a
Shaykh of long standing, one gifted with fair rede and right
understanding. Now he had on his farm a plenty of poultry, male
and female, and these he was wont to breed and to eat of their
eggs and their chickens. But amongst his cocks was a Chanticleer,
well advanced of age and wily of wit, who had long fought with
Fortune and who had become wise and ware in worldly matters and
in the turns and shifts of Time. It fortuned one day that this
Cock went forth to wander about the farm-lands pecking and
picking up as he went such grains of wheat and barley and
holcus[FN#274] and sesame and millet as chanced fall in his way;
but, being careless of himself, he had left the village afar off
without thinking of what he did, and ere he took counsel with
himself he found him amiddlemost the wilderness. So he turned him
rightwards and leftwards but espied nor friend nor familiar,
whereat he stood perplext as to his affair and his breast was
straitened and still he knew not what to do. Now while thus
bewildered in his wits touching his next step, behold, his glance
fell upon a Fox[FN#275] who was approaching him from afar,
whereat he feared and trembled and was agitated with mighty great
agitation. At once he turned him about and presently espied a
high wall arising from the waste, whereto was no place of
ascending for his foe; so he spread his wings and flew up and
perched upon the coping where he took his station. Presently the
Fox came forward to the foot of the wall, and, finding no means
of climbing it and getting at the fowl, he raised his head and
said, "The Peace be upon thee, Ho thou the soothfast brother and
suitable friend!" But as the Cock would not turn towards him nor
return aught of reply to his salutation, the Fox resumed, "What
is to do with thee, O dear my brother, that my greeting thou
acknowledgest not and to my words inclinest thee not?" Still the
Cock requited not his courtesy and declined to reply, whereat the
Fox resumed, "Wottest thou not, O my brother, the glad tidings
wherewith I came theewards, with what suitable intelligence and
counsel veridical and information at once sincere and self-
evident? and, didst know what it is hath come to mine ears,
verily thou hadst embraced me and kissed me on the mouth." But
the Cock feigned absence of mind and ignored him and answered him
naught, but stood with rounded eyes and fixed upon the far when
the Fox resumed, "O my brother, the King of the Beasts which be
the Lion and the King of the Birds which be the Eagle have
alighted from a journey upon the meads where grass is a-growing
and by the marge where waters are a-flowing and blossoms are a-
blowing and browsing gazelles are a-to-ing and a-fro-ing; and the
twain have gathered together all manner of ferals, lions and
hyenas, leopards and lynxes, wild cattle and antelopes and
jackals and even hares, brief, all the wild beasts of the world;
and they have also collected every kind of bird, eagle and
vulture, crow and raven,[FN#276] wild pigeon and turtledove,
poultry and fowls and Kat\xE1s and quails[FN#277] and other small
deer, and these two liege lords have bidden the herald proclaim,
throughout the tracts of the upland wold and the wild lowland,
safety and security and confraternity and peace with honour and
sympathy and familiar friendship and affection and love amongst
wild beasts and cattle and birds; also that enmity be done away
with and wrongs be forbidden nor might one transgress against
other; nay, if any chance to injure his fellow this offence might
be for his scourging a reason, and for his death by tearing to
pieces a justification. The order hath also come forth that all
do feed and browse in one place whichever they please, never
venturing to break the peace but dwelling in all amity and
affection and intimacy one with other. Moreover they have
commissioned me, very me, to overroam the wastes and gladden with
good tidings the peoples of the wilds and proclaim that one and
all without exception must assemble together, and also that whoso
delayeth or refuseth obedience shall not escape
punishment[FN#278] nor let each and every fail to make act of
presence and to kiss hands. And of thee, O my brother, I
especially require that thou descend from thy high stead in
safety and security and satisfaction, and that henceforward thy
heart be not startled nor thy limbs shake for fear." All this
description was described by the Fox to the Cock who paid no heed
to him as though he had never heard the news; and he remained
silent without return of reply or without so much as turning to
regard him; nay, he only kept his head raised and gazed afar.
Hereat quoth to him the Fox (for indeed his heart burned with
desire to know how he could seize and devour him), "O brother
mine, why and wherefore dost thou not acknowledge me by an answer
or address to me a word or even turn thy face towards me who am a
Commissioner sent by Leo, Sovran of the beasts, and Aquila,
Sultan of the birds? Sore I fear lest thou refuse to accompany me
and thus come upon thee censure exceeding and odium excessive
seeing that all are assembled in the presence and are browsing
upon the verdant mead." Then he added (as Chanticleer regarded
him not), "O my brother, I bespeak thee and thou unheedest me and
my speech and, if thou refuse to fare with me, at least let me
know what may be thy reply." Hereupon the Cock inclined towards
him and said, "Sooth hast thou spoken, O my brother, and well I
wot thou be an Envoy and a Commissioner from our King, and the
special Messenger of him: but my condition is changed by that
which hath befallen me." "And what calamity, O my brother hath
betided thee?" "Dost thou espy what I am at present espying?"
"And what is it thou espiest?" "Verily, I see a dust cloud
lowering and the Saker-falcons in circles towering;" and quoth
the Fox (whose heart throbbed with fear), "Look straitly, O my
brother, lest there happen to us a mishap." So Chanticleer gazed
as one distraught for a full told hour, after which he turned to
the Fox and said, "O my brother, I behold and can distinguish a
bird flying and a dust-trail hieing." "Consider them narrowly, O
my brother," cried the Fox (whose side-muscles quivered) "lest
this be sign of greyhound;" and the other replied, "The Truth is
known to Allah alone, yet I seem now to see a something lengthy
of leg, lean of flank, loose of ears, fine of forehand and full
of quarter, and at this moment it draweth near and is well nigh
upon us--O fine!"[FN#279] Now when the Fox heard these words he
cried to the Cock, "O my brother, I must farewell thee!" and so
saying he arose and committed his legs to the wind and he had
recourse to the Father of Safety.[FN#280] Seeing this, the Cock
also cried, "Why thus take to flight when thou hast no spoiler
thy heart to affright?" Replied the Fox, "I have a fear of the
Greyhound, O my brother, for that he is not of my friends or of
my familiars;" and the Cock rejoined, "Didst thou not tell me
thou camest as Commissioner of the Kings to these wastes
proclaiming a peace and safety amongst all the beasts and the
birds?" "O my brother Chanticleer," retorted the other, "this
feral, Greyhound hight, was not present at the time when
pacifcation was proclaimed, nor was his name announced in the
Congress of the beasts; and I for my part have no love lost with
him, nor between me and him is there aught of security." So
saying the Fox turned forthright to fly, routed with the foulest
of routing, and the Cock escaped the foe by his sleight and
sagacity with perfect safety and security. Now after the Fox had
turned tail and fled from him Chanticleer came down from the wall
and regained his farm, lauding Allah Almighty who had conveyed
him unharmed to his own place. And here he related unto his
fellows what had befallen him with the Fox and how he had devised
that cunning device and thereby freed himself from a strait
wherein, but for it, the foe had torn him limb by limb.



Here we begin to invite the History of what befel the Fowl-let
from the Fowler.[FN#281]

They relate (but Allah is All-knowing) that there abode in
Baghdad-city a huntsman-wight in venerie trained aright. Now one
day he went forth to the chase taking with him nets and springes
and other gear he needed and fared to a garden-site with trees
bedight and branches interlaced tight wherein all the fowls did
unite; and arriving at a tangled copse he planted his trap in the
ground and he looked around for a hiding-place and took seat
therein concealed. Suddenly a Birdie approaching the trap-side
began scraping the earth and, wandering round about it, fell to
saying in himself, "What may this be? Would Heaven I wot, for it
seemeth naught save a marvellous creation of Allah!" Presently he
considered the decoy which was half buried in the ground and
salam'd to it from afar to the far and the Trap returned his
salutation, adding thereto, "And the ruth of Allah and His
blessings;" and presently pursued, "Welcome and fair welcome to
the brother dear and the friend sincere and the companionable
fere and the kindly compeer, why stand from me so far when I
desire thou become my neighbour near and I become of thine
intimates the faithful and of thy comrades the truthful? So draw
thee nigh to me and be of thy safety trustful and prove thee not
of me fearful." Quoth the Fowl-let, "I beseech thee by Allah, say
me who art thou so I may not of thee feel affright and what be
thy bye-name and thy name and to which of the tribes dost trace
thy tree?" And quoth the Trap, "My name is Hold-fast[FN#282] and
my patronymic is Bindfast and my tribe is hight the Sons of
Fallfast." Replied the Birdie, "Sooth thou sayest; for such name
is truly thy name and such bye-name is without question thy
bye-name nor is there any doubt of thy tribe being the noblest of
the tribes." The Trap answered him saying, "Alhamdolillah--laud
to the Lord--that me thou hast recognised and that I be of thy
truest friends thou hast acknowledged, for where shalt thou find
a familiar like unto me, a lover soothful and truthful and my
fellow in mind? And indeed I a devotee of religious bent and from
vain gossip and acquaintances and even kith and kin abstinent;
nor have I any retreat save upon the heads of hills and in the
bellies of dales which be long and deep; and from mundane tidings
I am the true Holdfast and in worldly joys the real Bindfast."
The Fowl replied, "Sooth hast spoken, O my lord; and all hail to
thee; how pious and religious and of morals and manners gracious
art thou? Would to Heaven I were a single hair upon thy body."
Rejoined the Trap, "Thou in this world art my brother and in the
next world my father;" and the other retorted, "O my brother,
fain would I question thee concerning matters concealed within
thy thoughts;" whereto the Trap, "Enquire of whatso thou
requires", that I make manifest to thee what in heart thou
desirest; for I will truly declare to thee mine every aim and
disclose to thee soothly all my case and my thoughts concealed,
nor shall remain unrevealed of mine intent aught." So the Birdie
began, "O my brother, why and wherefore see I thee on this wise
abiding in the dust and dwelling afar from relations and
companeers and thou hast parted from thy family and peers and
hast departed from the fondness of thy dears?" "Hast thou not
learned, O my brother," answered the Trap, "that retirement is
permanent heal and farness from folk doth blessings deal and
separation from the world is bodily weal; and on this matter hath
one of the poets said, and said right well,

'Fly folk, in public ne'er appearing, * And men shall name thee
     man God-fearing;[FN#283]
Nor say I've brother, mate and friend: * Try men with mind still
Yea, few are they as thou couldst wish: * Scorpions they prove
     when most endearing.'[FN#284]

And one of the Sages hath said, 'Solitude and not ill associate.'
Also quoth they to Al-Bahl\xFAl,[FN#285] 'Why this tarrying of thine
amid the homes of the dead and why this sojourning in a barren
stead and wherefore this farness from kinsmen and mate and lack
of neighbourly love for brother and intimate?' But quoth he, 'Woe
to you! my folk did I dwell amongst them would some day unlove me
and the while I abide far from them will never reprove me; not
indeed would they remember my affection nor would they desire my
predilection; and so satisfied with my solitude am I that an I
saw my family I should start away as in fear of them, and were my
parent quickened anew and longed for my society verily I would
take flight from them.' " Replied the Fowl-let, "In good sooth, O
my brother, truth thou hast pronounced in all by thee announced
and the best of rede did from thee proceed; but tell me, prithee,
anent that cord about thy middle wound and despite thine
expending efforts that abound why thou art neither a-standing nor
a-sitting on ground?" To him replied the Trap, "O my brother,
learn that I spend every night of every month in prayer, during
which exercise whenever sleep would seize me I tighten this cord
about my waist and drive slumber from my eyes and become
therefrom the more wide-awake for my orisons. Know thou also that
Allah (be He glorified and magnified!) affectioneth his servants
when devout are they, and stand in worship alway, ever dight to
pray and praise Him by night and by day; and who turn on their
sides loving the Lord to obey in desire and dismay and doling
their good away. And quoth Allah (be He glorified and
magnified!), 'And for scanty while of the night they take not
gentle rest and at rising morn His pardon they obtest and their
Lord granteth unto them their request.' [FN#286] And wottest thou
not, O my brother, what said the poet?

'These busy are with worldly gear * Those of their moneys proud
But some be rich by God's approof -- * Praise Him o' nights with
     love sincere:
Their Guardian's eye regards them aye * Praying, confessing sins
     to clear:
They wot nor worship aught but Him * And hail His name with love
     and fear.' "

Therewith quoth the Fowl-let, "Sooth hast thou said, O my
brother, in each word by thee sped and right eloquently was
announced all by thee pronounced; however (I am thy protected!),
do thou tell me why I see thee one half buried in earth and the
other half above ground?" And quoth the Trap, "For the reason
that I thereby resemble the dead and in life I am shunning the
pernicious lusts of the flesh; and Almighty Allah (be He
glorified and magnified!) said in His August Volume, 'From earth
have We created you and unto her We will return you and from her
will We draw you forth a second time.' "[FN#287] Replied the
Birdie, "The truth thou hast told in whatso thou dost unfold, but
why do I see thee so bent of back?" and rejoined the Trap,
"Learn, O my brother, that the cause for this bowing of my back
is my frequent standing in prayer by day and my upstanding by
night in the service of the King, the Clement, the One, the
Prepotent, the Glorious, the Omnipotent; and verily upon this
matter right well the poet hath spoken,

'None save the pious Youth gains boon of Paradise * (To whom the
     Lord doth pardon crime and sin and vice),
Whose back by constant prayer through murk o' night is bent * And
     longs to merit Heaven in sore and painful guise.
Hail to the slave who ever would his lord obey * And who by death
     is saved when he obedient dies.' "

The Fowl-let continued, "O my brother, of truth the token is that
whereof thou hast spoken and I have understood thee and am
certified of thy sooth. But yet, I see upon thee a robe[FN#288]
of hair!" and the Trap rejoined, "O my brother, knowest thou not
of hair and wool that they be the wear of the pious and the
religious, whereof one of the poets hath spoken in these words,

'Folk who in fear of long accompt[FN#289] for naught of worldly
     care * Hail to them! haply garb of wool they'll change for
     silken wear:
In life for provaunt shall suffice them salt and barley bread *
     Who seek th' Almighty Lord and bow the head in sedulous
     pray'r.' "

The Birdie resumed, "In very deed thy speech the sooth doth
teach; but say me what be this staff[FN#290] thou hendest in
hand?" Replied the Trap, "O my brother, know that I have become
an olden man well shotten in years and my strength is minished,
wherefor I have taken me a staff that I may prop me thereon and
that it aid my endeavour when a-fasting." The Fowl-let pursued,
"Thy speech is true, O my brother, and thou speakest as due, yet
would I ask thee of a matter nor refuse me information
thereanent: tell me why and wherefore this plenty of grain
scattered all about thee?" The Trap answered, "Indeed the
merchants and men of wealth bring to me this victual that I may
bestow it in charity upon the Fakir and the famisht;" and the
Birdie rejoined, "O my brother, I also am an hungered; so dost
thou enjoin me to eat thereof?" "Thou art my companion," cried
the Trap, "so upon me such injunction is a bounden duty,"
presently adding, "Be so kind, O my brother, and haste thee
hither and eat." Hereat the Fowl-let flew down from off his tree
and approaching little by little (with a heart beating for fear
of the Trap) picked up a few grains which lay beside it until he
came to the corn set in the loop of the springe. Hereupon he
pecked at it with one peck nor had he gained aught of good
therefrom ere the Trap came down heavily upon him and entangled
his neck and held him fast. Hereupon he was seized with a fit of
sore affright and he cried out, "Z\xEDk! z\xEDk!" and "M\xEDk!
m\xEDk![FN#291] Verily I have fallen into wreak and am betrayed by
friendly freke and oh, the excess of my trouble and tweak, Z\xEDk,
Z\xEDk! O Thou who keenest my case, do Thou enable me escape to
seek, and save me from these straits unique and be Thou ruthful
to me the meek!" Thereupon quoth to him the Trap, "Thou criest
out Zik! Zik! and hast fallen into straits unique and hast
strayed from the way didst seek, O Miscreant and Zind\xEDk,[FN#292]
and naught shall avail thee at this present or brother or friend
veridigue or familiar freke. Now understand and thy pleasure
seek! I have deceived thee with a deceit and thou lentest ear and
lustedst." Replied the Bird, "I am one whom desire hath cast down
and ignorance hath seduced and inordinate greed, one for whose
neck the collar of destruction is fitted and I have fallen along
with those who lowest fall!" Hereupon the Fowler came up with his
knife to slaughter the Fowl-let and began saying, "How many a
birdie have we taken in all ease for desire of its meat that we
may dress their heads with rice or in Har\xEDsah [FN#293] or fried
in pan and eat thereof pleasurably myself or feed therewith great
men and grandees. Also 'tis on us incumbent to feed privily upon
half the bodies and the other half shall be for our guests whilst
I will take the wings to set before my family and kinsmen as the
most excellent of gifts."[FN#294] Hearing these words the Bird
fell to speaking and saying,

"O Birder, my mother's in misery * And blind with weeping my loss
     is she.
I suffice not thy guest nor can serve for gift: * Have ruth and
     compassion and set me free!
With my parents I'll bless thee and then will I * Fly a-morn and
     at e'en-tide return to thee."

Presently resumed he, "Seest thou not how my meat be mean and my
maw be lean; nor verily can I stand thee in stead of cate nor thy
hunger satiate: so fear Allah and set me at liberty then shall
the Almighty requite thee with an abundant requital." But the
Fowler, far from heeding his words, made him over to his son
saying, "O my child, take this bird and faring homewards
slaughter him and of him cook for us a cumin ragout and a
lemonstew, a mess flavoured with verjuice and a second of
mushrooms and a third with pomegranate seeds and a fourth of
clotted curd[FN#295] cooked with Summ\xE1k,[FN#296] and a fine fry
and eke conserves of pears[FN#297] and quinces and apples and
apricots hight the rose-water and vermicelli[FN#298] and
Sikb\xE1j;[FN#299] and meat dressed with the six leaves and a
porridge[FN#300] and a rice-milk, and an 'Aj\xEDj\xEDyah[FN#301] and
fried flesh in strips and Kab\xE1bs and meat-olives and dishes the
like of these. Also do thou make of his guts strings for bows and
of his gullet a conduit for the terrace-roof and of his skin a
tray-cloth and of his plumage cushions and pillows." Now when the
Fowl-let heard these words (and he was still in the Fowler's
hand), he laughed a laugh of sorrow and cried, "Woe to thee, O
Birder, whither be wended thy wits and thine understanding? Art
Jinn-mad or wine-drunken? Art age-foolish or asleep? Art
heavy-minded or remiss in thought? Indeed had I been that
long-necked bird the 'Ank\xE1, daughter of Life, or were I the she-
camel of S\xE1lih to be, or the ram of Isaac the sacrificed, or the
loquent calf of Al-S\xE1miri [FN#302] or even a buffalo fattened
daintily all this by thee mentioned had never come from me."
Hereat he fell to improvising and saying,

"The Ruthful forbiddeth the eating of me * And His Grace doth
     grace me with clemency:
A Camel am I whom they overload * And the Birder is daft when my
     flesh seeth he:
Prom Solomon's breed, O my God, I have hope: * If he kill me the
     Ruthful his drowning[FN#303] decree.'?

Then quoth the Fowl to the Fowler, "An thou design to slaughter
me in thy greed even as thou hast described, verily I shall avail
thee naught, but an thou work my weal and set me free I will show
thee somewhat shall profit thee and further the fortunes of thy
sons' sons and thy latest descendants." "What is that direction
thou wouldst deal to me?" asked the Fowler, and answered the
Fowl-let, "I will teach a trio of words all wise and will
discover to thee in this earth a Hoard wherewith thou and thy
seed and posterity shall ever be satisfied and shall ever pray
for the lengthening of my years. Moreover I will point out to
thee a pair of Falcons ashen-grey, big of body and burly of bulk
who are to me true friends and whom thou didst leave in the
gardens untrapped." Asked the Birder, "And what be the three
words which so savour of wisdom?" and answered the other "O
Fowler, the three words of wisdom are:--Bemourn not what is the
past nor at the future rejoice too fast nor believe aught save
that whereon thy glance is cast. But as regards the Hoard and the
two Falcons, when thou shalt have released me I will point them
out to thee and right soon to thee shall be shown the sooth of
whatso I have said to thee." Hereat the Birder's heart became
well affected toward the Birdie for his joy anent the Treasure
and the Falcons; and the device of the captive deceived the
Capturer and cut short his wits so that he at once released the
prey. Forthright the Fowl-let flew forth the Fowler's palm in
huge delight at having saved his life from death; then, after
preening his plume and spreading his pinions and his wings, he
laughed until he was like to fall earthwards in a fainting fit
Anon he began to gaze right and left, long breaths a drawing and
increase of gladness ever a showing; whereupon quoth the Birder,
"O Father of Flight, O thou The Wind hight! what saidst thou to
me anent pointing out the two Falcons ashen-grey and who were the
comrades thou leftest in the gardens?" Quoth the Birdie in reply,
"slack and alas! never saw I thy like for an ass nor aught than
thyself meaner of capacity nor mightier of imbecility; for indeed
thou carries" in thy head lightness and in thy wits slackness. O
Scant of Sense, when sawest thou ever a sparrow company with a
Falcon, much less with two Falcons? So short is thine
understanding that I have escaped thy hand by devising the
simplest device which my nous and knowledge suggested." Hereat he
began to improvis and repeat:

"When Fortune easy was, from duty[FN#304] didst forbear * Nor
     from that malady[FN#305] hast safety or repair:
Then blame thyself nor cast on other wight[FN#306] the fault *
     And lacking all excuse to death of misery fare!"

Then resumed the Fowl-let, "Woe to thee, O mean and mesquin thou
wottedst not that which thou hast lost in me, for indeed baulked
is thy bent and foiled is thy fortune and near to thee is poverty
and nigh to thee is obscurity. Hadst thou when taking me cut my
throat and cloven my crop thou hadst found therein a jewel the
weight of an ounce which I picked up and swallowed from the
treasury of Kisr\xE0 An\xFAsh\xEDrw\xE1n the King." But when the Birder heard
the Birdie's words he scattered dust upon his head and buffeted
his face and plucked out his beard and rent his raiment, and at
last slipped down a swooning to the ground. And presently
recovering his senses he looked towards his late captive and
cried, "O Father of Flight, O thou The Wind hight say me is there
any return for thee me-wards, where thou shalt with me abide, and
thee within the apple of mine eye will I hide, and after all this
toil and turmoil I will perfume and fumigate thee with ambergris
and with Comorin lign-aloes, and I will bring thee sugar for food
and nuts of the pine[FN#307] and with me thou shalt tarry in
highmost degree?" Replied the Birdie, "O miserable, past is that
which passed; I mean, suffice me not thy fraud and thy flattering
falsehood. And laud to the Lord, O thou meanest of men, how soon
hast thou forgotten the three charges wherewith I charged thee!
And how short are thy wits seeing that the whole of me weighteth
not ten drachms[FN#308] and how then can I bear in crop a jewel
weighing an ounce? How far from thee is subtilty and how speedily
hast thou forgotten mine injunctions wherewith I enjoined thee
saying, 'Believe not aught save that whereon thine eye is cast
nor regret and bemourn the past nor at what cometh rejoice too
fast.' These words of wisdom are clean gone from thy memory, and
hadst thou been nimble of wits thou hadst slaughtered me
forthright: however, Alhamdolillah--Glory to God, who caused me
not to savour the whittle's sharp edge, and I thank my Lord for
my escape and for the loosing of my prosperity from the trap of
trouble." Now when the Birder heard these words of the Birdie he
repented and regretted his folly, and he cried, "O my sorrow for
what failed me of the slaughter of this volatile," and as he sank
on the ground he sang,[FN#309]

"O brave was the boon which I held in my right * Yet O Maker of
     man, 'twas in self despight.
Had my lot and my luck been of opulence, * This emptiness never
     had proved my plight."

Hereupon the Fowl let farewelled the Fowler and took flight until
he reached his home and household, where he seated him and
recited all that had befallen him with the Birder, to wit, how
the man had captured him, and how he had escaped by sleight, and
he fell to improvising,

"I charged you, O brood of my nestlings, and said, * Ware yon
     Wady, nor seek to draw near a stead
Where sitteth a man who with trap and with stakes * Entrapped me,
     drew knife and would do me dead.
And he longed to destroy me, O children, but I * Was saved by the
     Lord and to you was sped."

And here endeth the History of the Fowl let and the Fowler entire
and complete.


                       The Tale of Attaf.

Here we begin to write and invite the Tale of a man of  Syria,
Attaf hight.[FN#310]

They relate (but Allah is All-knowing of His unknown and
All-cognisant of what forewent in the annals of folk and the
wonders of yore, and of times long gone before!) that in the city
of Sham[FN#311] there dwelt of old a man Att\xE1f hight, who
rivalled H\xE1tim of Tayy[FN#312] in his generosity and his
guest-love and in his self-control as to manners and morals.  Now
he lived in the years when the Caliph Harun al-Rashid was
reigning in Baghdad-city, and it happened on a day of the days
that this Commander of the Faithful awoke morne and melancholic,
and right straitened was his breast.  So he arose, and taking
Ja'afar the Barmecide and Mastur the Eunuch passed with them into
the place where his treasures were stored.  Presently quoth he to
the Wazir, "O Ja'araf, open to me this door that I may solace me
with the sight, and my breast may be broadened and haply be
gladdened by such spectacle."  The Minister did the bidding of
his lord, who, finding a room full of books, put forth his hand,
and taking up one of the volumes, opened and read.  Thenhe fell
to weeping thrice, and thrice to laughing aloud,[FN#313] whereat
the Wazir considered him and cried, "O King of the Age, how is it
I espy thee reading and weeping and laughing at one and the same
moment when none so act save madmen and maniacs?"[FN#314]  And
having spoken on this wise he held his peace; but the Prince of
True Believers turned himwards and cried, "O dog of the sons of
Bermak, I see thee going beyond thy degree and quitting the
company of sensible men, and thou speakest vainly making me a
madman in saying, 'None laugh and cry at one and the same time
save maniacs?'"  With these words the Caliph restored the volume
to its place in the Treasury and bade lock the door, after which
the three returned to the Divan.  Here the Commander of the
Faithful regarded Ja'afar and exclaimed, "Go thou forth from
before me and address me not again nor seat thee upon the
Wazirial seat until thou answer thine own question and thou
return me a reply concerning that which is writ and aligned in
yonder book I was reading, to the end thou learn why I wept and
wherefore I laught at one and the same hour."  And he cried at
him in anger saying, "Off and away with thee, nor face me again
save with the answer, else will I slay thee with the foulest of
slaughter."  Accordingly Ja'afar fared forth and hardly could he
see with his eyes, and he kept saying to himself, "Indeed I have
fallen with a sore fall; foul befal it for a fall; how fulsome it
is!"  Then he fared homewards where he encountered face to face
his father Yahy\xE1 the Bermaki, who was issuing from the mansion
and he recounted to him the tale, whereat his parent said, "Go at
once, abide not here, but turn thee Damascus-wards until shall
terminate this decline of fortune and this disjunciton of favour,
and at the ending thereof thou shalt see wonders
therein."[FN#315]  Ja'afar replied, "Not until I shall have laid
a charge upon my Har\xEDm;"[FN#316] but Yahya cried, "Enter not
these doors, hie thee at once to Al-Sh\xE1m, for even so 'tis
determined by Destiny."  Accordingly the Wazir gave ear to his
sire, and taking a bag containing one thousand dinars and
slinging on his sword farewelled him; then, mounting a she-mule,
alone and unattended by slave or page, he rode off and he ceased
not riding for ten days full-told until he arrived at the
Marj[FN#317] or mead of Damascus.  Now it so fortuned that on
that same day Attaf,[FN#318] a fair youth and a well-known of the
"Smile of the Prophet," and one of the noblest and most generous
of her sons, had pitched tents and had spread a banquet outside
the city, where chancing to sight Ja'afar mounted on his beast,
he knew him to be a wayfarer passing by, and said to his slaves,
"Call to me yonder man!"  They did his bidding and the stranger
rode up to the party of friends, and dismounting from his mule
saluted them with the salam which they all returned.  Then they
sat for a while[FN#319] after which Attaf arose and led Ja'afar
to his house companied by all the company which was there and
they paced into a spacious open hall and seated themselves in
converse for an hour full-told.  Anon the slaves brought them to
a table spread with the evening meal and bearing more than ten
several manners of meat.  So they ate and were cheered, and after
the guests had washed hands, the eunuchs and attendants brought
in candles of honey-coloured wax that shed a brilliant light, and
presently the musicians came in band and performed a right royal
partition while the servants served up conserves for dessert.  So
they ate, and when they had eaten their sufficiency they drank
coffee;[FN#320] and finally, at their ease and in their own good
time, all the guests arose and made obeisance and fared
homewards.  Then Attaf and Ja'afar sat at table for an hour or
so, during which the host offered his guest an hundred greetings,
saying, "All kinds of blessings have descended from Heaven upon
our heads.  Tell me, how was it thou honouredst us, and what was
the cause of thy coming and of thy favouring us with thy
footsteps?"[FN#321]  So Ja'afar disclosed to him his name and
office[FN#322] and told him the reasons of his ride to Damascus
from the beginning to the end full and detailed, whereto Attaf
rejoined, "Tarry with me an thou please a decade of years; and
grieve not at all, for thy Worship is owner of this place."
After this the eunuchs came in and spread for Ja'afar bedding
delicately wrought at the head of the hall and its honour-stead,
and disposed other sleeping-gear alongside thereof, which seeing
the Wazir said to himself, "Haply my host is a bachelor, that
they would spread his bed to my side; however, I will venture the
question."  Accordingly he addressed his host saying, "O Attaf,
art thou single or married?"[FN#323] "I am married, O my lord,"
quoth the other, whereat Ja'afar resumed, "Wherefore dost thou
not go within and lie with thy Har\xEDm?"  "O my lord," replied
Attaf, "the Har\xEDm is not about to take flight, and it would be
naught but disgraceful to me were I to leave a visitor like
thyself, a man by all revered, to sleep alone while I fare
to-night with my Har\xEDm and rise betimes to enter the
Hammam.[FN#324]  In me such action would I deem be want of
courtesy and failure in honouring a magnifico like thine Honour.
In very sooth, O my lord, so long as thy presence deign favour
this house I will not sleep within my Harem until I farewell thy
Worship and thou depart in peace and safety to thine own place."
"This be a marvellous matter," quoth Ja'afar to himself, "and
peradventure be so doeth the more to make much of me."  So they
lay together that night and when morning morrowed they arose and
fared to the Baths whither Attaf had sent for the use of his
guest a suit of magnificent clothes, and caused Ja'afar don it
before leaving the Hammam.  Then finding the horses at the door,
they mounted and repaired to the Lady's Tomb,[FN#325] and spent a
day worthy to be numbered in men's lives.  Nor did they cease
visiting place after place by day and sleeping in the same stead
by night, in the way we have described, for the space of four
months, after which time the soul of the Wazir Ja'afar waxed sad
and sorry, and one chance day of the days, he sat him down and
wept.  Seeing him in tears Attaf asked him, saying, "Allah fend
from thee all affliction, O my lord! why dost thou weep and
wherefore art thou grieved?  An thou be heavy of heart why not
relate to me what hath oppressed thee?"  Answered Ja'afar, "O my
brother, I find my breast sore straitened and I would fain stroll
about the streets of Damascus and solace me from seeing the
Cathedral-mosque of the Ommiades."[FN#326]  "And who, O my lord,"
responded the other, "would hinder thee therefrom?  Do thou deign
wander whither thou wilt and take thy solace, so may thy spirits
be gladdened and thy breast be broadened.  Herein is none to let
or stay thee at all, at all."  Hearing these words Ja'afar arose
to fare forth, when quoth his host, "O my lord, shall they saddle
thee a hackney?" but the other replied, "O my friend, I would not
be mounted for that the man on horseback may not divert himself
by seeing the folk; nay the folk enjoy themselves by looking upon
him."  Quoth Attaf, "At least delay thee a while that I may
supply thee with spending money to bestow upon the folk; and then
fare forth and walk about to thy content and solace thyself with
seeing whatso thou wilt; so mayest thou be satisfied and no more
be sorrowed."  Accordingly, Ja'afar took from Attaf a purse of
three hundred dinars and left the house gladly as one who issueth
from durance vile, and he turned into the city and began
a-wandering about the streets of Damascus and enjoying the
spectacle; and at last he entered the J\xE1mi' al-Amawi where he
prayed the usual prayers.  After this he resumed his strolling
about pleasant places until he came to a narrow street and found
a bench formed of stone[FN#327] set in the ground.  Hereon he
took seat to rest a while, and he looked about, when behold,
fronting him were latticed windows wherein stood cases planted
with sweet-smelling herbs.[FN#328]  And hardly had he looked
before those casements were opened and suddenly appeared thereat
a young lady,[FN#329] a model of comeliness and loveliness and
fair figure and symmetrical grace, whose charms would amate all
who upon her gaze, and she began watering her plants.  Ja'afar
cast upon her a single glance and was sore hurt by her beauty and
brilliancy; but she, after looking upon the lattices and watering
the herbs to the extent they required turned her round and gazed
adown the street where she caught a sight of Ja'afar sitting and
earnestly eyeing her.  So she barred the windows and disappeared.
But the Minister lingered on the bench hoping and expecting that
haply the casement would open a second time and allow him another
look at her; and as often as he would have risen up his nature
said to him, "Sit thee down."  And he stinted not so doing till
evening came on, when he arose and returned to the house of
Attaf, whom he found standing at the gateway to await him, and
presently his host exclaimed, "'Tis well, O my lord! during all
this delay indeed my thoughts have gone with thee for that I have
long been expecting thy return."  "'Tis such a while since I
walked abroad," answered Ja'afar, "that I had needs look about me
and console my soul, wherefor I lingered and loitered."  Then
they entered the house and sat down, when the eunuchs served up
on trays the evening meal, and the Minister drew near to eat
thereof but was wholly unable, so he cast from his hand the spoon
and arose.  Hereat quoth his host, "Why, O my lord, canst thou
not eat?"  "Because this day's noon-meal hath been heavy to me
and hindereth my supping; but 'tis no matter!" quoth the other.
And when the hour for sleep came Ja'afar retired to rest; but in
his excitement by the beauty of that young lady he could not
close eye, for her charms had mastered the greater part of his
sense and had snared his senses as much as might be; nor could he
do aught save groan and cry, "Ah miserable me! who shall enjoy
thy presence, O full Moon of the Age and who shall look upon that
comeliness and loveliness?"  And he ceased not being feverish and
to twist and turn upon his couch until late morning, and he was
as one lost with love; but as soon as it was the undurn-hour
Attaf came in to him and said, "How is thy health?  My thoughts
have been settled on thee: and I see that thy slumber hath lasted
until between dawn and midday: indeed I deem that thou hast lain
awake o' night and hast not slept until so near the midforenoon."
"O my brother, I have no Kayf,"[FN#330] replied Ja'afar.  So the
host forthwith sent a white slave to summon a physician, and the
man did his bidding, and after a short delay brought one who was
the preventer[FN#331] of his day.  And when ushered into
Ja'afar's room he addressed the sick man, "There is no harm to
thee and boon of health befal thee;[FN#332] say me what aileth
thee?"  "All is excitement[FN#333] with me," answered the other,
whereat the Leach putting forth his fingers felt the wrist of his
patient, when he found the pulsations pulsing strong and the
intermissions intermitting regularly.[FN#334] Nothing this he was
ashamed to declare before his face, "Thou art in love!" so he
kept silence and presently said to Attaf, "I will write thee a
recipe containing all that is required by the case."  "Write!"
said the host, and the Physician sat down to indite his
prescription, when behold, a white slave came in and said to his
lord, "Thy Harim requireth thee."  So the host arose and retired
to learn what was requireth of him in the women's apartments, and
when his wife saw him she asked, "O my lord, what is thy pleasure
that we cook for dinner and supper?"  "Whatsoever may be wanted,"
he rejoined and went his ways, for since Ja'afar had been guested
in his house Attaf had not once entered the inner rooms according
as he had before declared to the Minister.  Now the Physician
during the host's visit to the Harem had written out the
prescription and had placed it under the pillow of the patient,
and as he was leaving the house he came suddenly upon the
housemaster on return to the men's apartment, and Attaf asked
him, "Hast thou written thy perscription?"  "Yes," answered the
Leach, "I have written it and set it under his head."  Thereupon
the host pulled out a piastre[FN#335] and therewith fee'd the
physician; after which he went up to Ja'afar's couch and drew the
paper from under his pillow and read it and saw therein
written,[FN#336] "O Attaf, verily thy guest is a lover, so do
thou look for her he loveth and for his state purvey and make not
overmuch delay."  So the host addressed his guest, saying, "Thou
art now become one of us: why then hide from me thy case and
conceal from me thy condition?  This Doctor, than whom is none
keener or cleverer in Damascus, hath learned all that befel
thee."  Hereupon he produced the paper and showed it to Ja'afar,
who took it and read it with a  smile; then he cried, "This
Physician is a master leach and his saying is soothfast.  Know
that on the day when I went forth from thee and sauntered about
the streets and lanes, there befel me a matter which I never had
thought to have betided me; no, never; and I know not what shall
become of me for that, O my brother, Attaf, my case is one
involving life-loss."  And he told him all that had happened to
himself; how when seated upon the bench a lattice had been
unclosed afront of him and he had seen a young lady, the
loveliest of her time, who had thrown it open and had come
forward to water her window-garden; adding, "Now my heart was
upstirred by love to her, and she had suddenly withdrawn after
looking down the street and closed the casement as soon as she
had seen a stranger gazing upon her.  Again and again I was
minded to rise and retire, but desire for her kept me seated in
the hope that haply she would again throw open the lattice and
allow me the favour of another glimpse, so could I see her a
second time.  However, inasmuch as she did not show till evening
came on I arose and repaired hither, but of my exceeding
agitation for the ardour of love to her I was powerless to touch
meat or drink, and my sleep was broken by the excess of desire
for her which had homed in my heart.  And now, O my brother
Attaf, I have made known to thee whatso betided me."  When the
host heard these words, he was certified that the house whereof
Ja'afar spoke was his house and the lattice his own lattice and
the lovely and lovesome young lady his wife the daughter of his
paternal uncle, so he said in his thought, "There is no Majesty
and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great.
Verily we were Allah's and unto Him shall we return!"  But
presently he rgained himself in the nobility of his nature, and
he continued, "O Ja'afar, thine intent is pure for that the dame
thou sawest yesterday was divorced by her husband; and I will
straightway fare to her father and bespeak him to the end that
none may lay hand upon her; and then will I return and let thee
ken all concerning her."  So saying he arose and went at once to
his cousin-wife[FN#337] who greeted him and kissing his hand said
to him, "Is thy guest a-going?"  Said he, "By no means; the cause
of my coming to thee is not his going, the reason thereof is my
design of sending thee to the home of thy people, for that thy
father anon met me in the market-street and declared to me that
thy mother is dying of a colick, and said to me, 'Go send her
daughter without delay so that she may see her parent alive and
meet her once more.'"  Accordingly the young wife arose; and,
hardly knowing how she moved for tears at such tidings, she took
her slave-girls with her and repairing to her home rapped at the
door, and her mother who opened to her cried on seeing her, "May
this thy coming (Inshallah!) be well, O my daughter, but how is
it thou comest thus unexpected?"  "Inshallah!" said the wife,
"thou art at rest from the colick?" and the mother rejoined, "Who
told thee I was colicky? but pass thou within."  So she entered
the court and her father, Abdullah Chelebi hight,[FN#338] hearing
her footstep from an inner room, asked, "What is there to do?"
"Thou mettest anon," replied his daughter, "Attaf thy son-in-law
in the Bazar and didst tell him that my mother was sore afflicted
with a colick."  Hearing this he exclaimed, "This day I went not
once to the market-street nor have I seen a soul!"  Now they had
not ceased conversing ere the door was rapped; and as the slave
girls opened it, they saw porters laden with the young lady's
gear and garments and they led the men into the court where the
father asked them, "Who sent these stuffs?"  "Attaf," they
replied, and setting down their loads within went their way.
Then the father turned to his daughter and said to her, "What
deed hast done that my son-in-law bade take up thy gear and have
it sent after thee?"  And the mother said to him, "Hold thy peace
and speak not such speech lest the honour of the house be blamed
and shamed."  And as they were talking, behold, up came Attaf
companied by a party of friends when his father-in-law asked him,
"Wherefore hast thou done on this wise?"  "To-day," answered he,
"there came from me a wrongous oath: on account of my inclination
to thy daughter my heart is dark as night whereas her good name
is whiter than my turband and ever bright.[FN#339]  Furthermore
an occasion befell and this oath fell from my mouth and I bade
her be the owner of herself.[FN#340]  And now will I beweep the
past and straightway set her free."  So saying he wrote a writ of
repudiation and returning to Ja'afar said, "From early dawn I
have wearied myself[FN#341] for thy sake and have so acted that
no man can lay hand upon her.  And at last thou mayst now enjoy
life and go to the gardens and the Hammams and take thy pleasure
until the days of her widowhood[FN#342] be gone by."  Replied
Ja'afar, "Allah quicken thee for what thou wroughtest of kindness
to me," and Attaf rejoined, "Find for thyself something thou
requirest, O my brother."[FN#343]  Then he fell to taking him
every day amongst the crowd of pleasure-seekers and solacing him
with a show of joyous spectacles[FN#344] till the term of divorce
had sped, when he said to the Wazir, "O Ja'afar, I would counsel
thee with an especial counsel."  "And what may it be, O my
brother?" quoth the other; and quoth he, "Know, O my lord, that
many of the folk have found the likeness between thy Honour and
Ja'afar the Barmecide, wherefore must I fain act on this wise.  I
will bring thee a troop of ten Mamelukes and four servants on
horseback, with whom do thou fare privily and by night forth the
city and presently transmit to me tidings from outside the walls
that thou the Grand Wazir, Ja'afar the Barmecide, art recalled to
court and bound thither from Egypt upon business ordered by the
Sultan.  Hereat the Governor of Damascus, 'Abd al-Malik bin
Marv\xE1n[FN#345] and the Grandees of Syria will flock forth to meet
and greet thee with f\xEAtes and feasts, after which do thou send
for the young lady's sire and of him ask her to wife.  Then I
will summon the Kazi and witnesses and will write out without
stay or delay the marriage-writ with a dower of a thousand dinars
the while thou makest ready for wayfare, and if thou journey to
Homs or to Hamah do thou alight at whatso place ever pleaseth
thee.  Also I will provide thee of spending-money as much as thy
soul can desire and supply to thee raiment and gear, horses and
bat-animals, tents and pavilions of the cheap and of the dear,
all thou canst require.  So what sayest thou concerning this
counsel?"  "Fair fall it for the best of rede which hath no
peer," replied Ja'afar.  Hereupon Attaf arose and gathering his
men about his guest sent him forth the city when the Minister
wrote a write and dispatched it by twenty horsemen with a trader
to inform the Governor of Syria that Ja'afar the Barmecide was
passing that way and was about to visit Damascus on the especial
service of the Sultan.  So the Kap\xFAj\xED[FN#346] entered Damascus
and read out the Wazirial letter[FN#347] announcing Ja'afar's
return from Egypt.  Hereat the Governor arose and after sending a
present of provisions[FN#348] without the walls bade pitch the
tents, and the Grandees of Syria rode forth to meet the Minister,
and the Headmen of the Province set out to greet him, and he
entered with all honour and consideration.  It was indeed a day
fit to be numbered among the days of a man's life, a day of
general joyance for those present, and they read the Farm\xE1n and
they offered the food and the forage to the Chamberlain and thus
it became known to one and all of the folk that a writ of pardon
had come to Ja'afar's hands and on this wise the bruit went
abroad, far and near, and the Grandees brought him all manner of
presents.  After this Ja'afar sent to summon the young lady's
father and as soon as he appeared in his presence, said to him,
"Thy daughter hath been divorced?" and said the other, "Yes; she
is at home with me."  Quoth the Minister, "I would fain take her
to wife;" and quoth the father, "Here am I ready to send her as
thy handmaid."  The Governor of Sham added, "I will assume charge
of the dowry," and the damsel's father rejoined, "It hath already
come to hand."[FN#349]  Hereat they summoned the Kazi and wrote
out the writ of Ja'afar's marriage; and, having ended the
ceremony, they distributed meat and drink to the poor in honour
of the wedding, and Abd al-Malik bin Marwan said to Ja'afar,
"Deign, O my lord, come hither with me and become my guest, and I
will set apart for thee a place wherein thou canst consummate thy
marriage."  But the other replied, "Nay, I may not do so; I am
sent on public affairs by the Commander of the Faithful and I
purpose setting off with my bride and marching without further
delay."  The Grandees of Syria spent that night until morning
without any being able to snatch a moment of sleep, and as soon
as dawned the day Ja'afar sent to summon his father-in-law and
said, "On the morrow I design setting forth, and I desire that my
bride be ready for the road;" whereto replied the other, "Upon my
head be it and my eyes!"  Then Abdullah Chelebi fared homewards
and said to his daughter, "O my child, Attaf hath divorced thee
from bed and from board, whereas Sultan Ja'afar the Bermaki hath
taken thee to wife, and on Allah is the repairing of our broken
fortunes and the fortifying of our hearts."  And she held her
peace for displeasure by cause that she loved Attaf on account of
the blood-tie and his exceeding great generosity.  But on the
next day Ja'afar sent a message to her sire informing him that
the march would begin about mid-afternoon and that he wished him
to make all ready, so the father did accordingly; and when Attaf
heard thereof he sent supplies and spending-money.[FN#350]  At
the time appointed the Minister took horse escorted by the
Governor and the Grandees, and they brought out the
mule-litter[FN#351] wherein was the bride, and the procession
rode onwards until they had reached the Dome of the
Birds,[FN#352] whereat the Minister bade them return home and
they obeyed him and farewelled him.  But on the ride back they
all met Attaf coming from the city, and he reined in his horse
and saluted the Governor and exchanged salams with his
companions, who said to him, "Now at the very time we are going
in thou comest out."  Attaf made answer, "I wotted not that he
would set forth this day, but as soon as I was certified that he
had mounted I sent to summon his escort and came forth
a-following him."[FN#353]  To this the Governor replied, "Go
catch them up at the Dome of the Birds, where they are now
halting."  Attaf followed this counsel and reaching the place
alighted from his mare, and approaching Ja'afar embraced him and
cried, "Laud to the Lord, O brother mine, who returneth thee to
thy home with fortunes repaired and heart fortified;" and said
the Minister, "O Attaf, Allah place it in my power to requite
thee; but cease thou not to write me and apprise me of thy
tidings; and for the nonce I order thee to return hence and not
to lie the night save in thine own house."  And his host did his
bidding whilst the cousin-wife hearing his voice thrust her head
out of the litter and looked upon him with flowing tears,
understanding the length to which his generosity had carried him.
So fared it with Attaf and his affair; but now give ear to what
befell him from Abd al-Malik bin Marwan.  As they hied them home
one who hated the generous man asked the Governor, "Wottest thou
the wherefore he went forth to farewell his quondam guest at so
late a time as this?"  "Why so?" answered the other; and the
detractor continued, "Ja'afar hath tarried four months as a guest
in his household, and disguised so that none save the host knew
him, and now Attaf fared not forth for his sake but because of
the woman."  "What woman?" enquired the Governor, and the other
replied, "His whilom wife, whom he divorced for the sake of this
stranger, and married her to him; so this day he followeth to
enjoin him once more concerning the Government of Syria which
perchance is promised to him.  And 'tis better that thou
breakfast upon him ere he sup upon thee."  The other enquired,
"And whose daughter is she, is not her sire Abdullah
Chelebi?"[FN#354]  Whereto the man answered, "Yes, O my lord, and
I repeat that she was put away to the intent that Ja'afar might
espouse her."  When the Governor heard these words, he was wroth
with wrath galore than which naught could be more, and he hid his
anger from Attaf for a while of time until he had devised a
device to compass his destruction.  At last, one day of the days,
he bade cast the corpse of a murthered man into his enemy's
garden and after the body was found by spies he had sent to
discover the slayer, he summoned Attaf and asked him, "Who
murthered yon man within thy grounds?"  Replied the other, "'Twas
I slew him."  "And why didst slay him?" cried the Governor, "and
what harm hath he wrought thee?"  But the generous one replied,
"O my lord, I have confessed to the slaughter of this man in
order that I and only I may be mulcted in his blood-wite lest the
neighbours say, 'By reason of Attaf's garden we have been
condemned to pay his fine.'"  Quoth Abd al-Malik, "Why should I
want to take mulcts from the folk?  Nay; I would command
according to the Holy Law and even as Allah hath ordered, 'A life
for a life.'"  He then turned for testimony to those present and
asked them, "What said this man?" and they answered, "He said, 'I
slew him.'"  "Is the accused in his right mind or
Jinn-mad?"[FN#355] pursued the Governor; and they said, "In his
senses."  Then quoth the Governor to the Mufti, "O Efendi,
deliver me thine official decision according to that thou
heardest from the accused's mouth;" and the Judge pronounced and
indited his sentence upon the criminal according to his
confession.  Hereupon the Governor gave order for his slaves to
plunder the house and bastinado the owner; then he called for the
headsman, but the Notables interfered and cried, "Give him a
delay, for thou hast no right to slay him without further
evidence; and better send him to gaol."  Now all Damascus was
agitated and excited by this affair, which came upon the folk so
suddenly and unforeseen.  And Attaf's friends[FN#356] and
familiars came down upon the Governor and went about spreading
abroad that the generous man had not spoken such words save in
fear lest his neighbours be molested and be mulcted for a murther
which they never committed, and that he was wholly innocent of
such crime.  So Abd al-Malik bin Marwan summoned them and said,
"An ye plead that the accused is Jinn-mad this were folly, for he
is the prince of intelligent men: I was resolved to let him life
until the morrow; but I have been thwarted and this very night I
will send and have him strangled."  Hereupon he returned to
prison and ordered the gaoler to do him die before day might
break.  But the man waxed wroth with exceeding wrath to hear the
doom devised for Attaf and having visited him in prison said to
him, "Verily the Governor is determined to slay thee for he was
not satisfied with the intercession made for thee by the folk or
even with taking the legal blood-wite."  Hereat Attaf wept and
cried, "Allah (be He magnified and glorified!) hath assigned unto
every death a cause.  I desired but to do good amongst the garden
folk and prevent their being fined; and now this benevolence hath
become the reason of my ruin."  Then, after much 'say and said,'
the gaoler spoke as follows, "Why talk after such fashion?  I am
resolved to set thee free and to ransom thee with my life; and at
this very moment I will strike off thy chains and deliver thee
from him.  But do thou arise and tear my face and pluck out my
beard and rend my raiment; then, after thrusting a gag[FN#357]
into my mouth wend thy ways and save thy life and leave me to
bear all blame."[FN#358]  Quoth Attaf, "Allah requite thee for me
with every weal!"  Accordingly the gaoler did as he had
undertaken and his prisoner went forth unhurt and at once
followed the road to Baghdad.  So far concerning him; but now
hear thou what befell the Governor of Syria, Abd al-Malik bin
Marwan.  He took patience till midnight, when he arose and fared
accompanied by the headsman to the gaol that he might witness the
strangling of Attaf; but lo and behold! he found the prison door
wide open and the keeper in sore sorrow with his raiment all rent
to rags and his beard plucked out and his face scratched and the
blood trickling from his four sides and his case was the
miserablest of cases.  So they removed the gag from his mouth and
the Governor asked him, "Who did with thee on this wise?" and the
man answered, "O my lord, yesternight, about the middle thereof,
a gang of vagabonds and ne'er-do-wells as they were 'Ifrits of
our lord Sulayman (upon whom be The Peace!), not one of whom I
recognized, came upon me and ere I was ware of them they broke
down the prison door and killed me;[FN#359] and when I would have
cried aloud and shouted for aid they placed yonder gag in my
mouth, then they wounded me and shredded my dress and left me in
the state thou seest.  Moreover they took Attaf after breaking
his chains and said to him, 'Go and lay thy complaint before the
Sultan.'"  Now those who accompanied the Governor said, "This be
a gaoler and the son of a gaoler, nor during all his days hath
anyone charged him with letting a prisoner out of hand."  Quoth
Abd al-Malik to the wounded man, "Hie thee to thy house and stay
there;" whereat he straightway arose and went his ways.  After
this the Governor took horse, he and his escort; and all rode off
to search for Attaf during a term of four days and some of them
dug and dug deep down while the others returned after a bootless
errand, and reported that they had failed to find him.  Such was
the case with the Governor of Syria; and now give ear to the
adventure of Attaf.  He left not wayfaring until but a single
stage remained between him and Baghdad when robbers came upon him
and stripped him of all his clothes, so that he was compelled to
enter the capital in foulest condition, naked even as his mother
bare him.  And after some charitable wight had thrown an old robe
about him and bound his head with a clout (and his unshorn hair
fell over his eyes)[FN#360] he fell to asking for the mansion of
the Wazir Ja'afar and the folk guided him thereto.  But when he
would have entered the attendants suffered him not; so he stood
at the gate till an old man joined him.  Attaf enquired of him
saying, "Hast thou with thee, O Shaykh, an ink-case and pens and
paper?" and the other replied, "I have; but what is thy need
thereof? tell me,  so may I write for thee."  "I will write
myself," rejoined Attaf; and when the old man handed to him the
gear, he took seat and indeed an address to Ja'afar informing him
of all that passed from first to last, and especially of his own
foul plight.[FN#361]  Presently he returned the ink-case and reed
pens to the Shaykh; and, going up to the gate, asked those
standing about the doors, "Will ye not admit for me this missive
and place it in the hand of his Highness, Ja'afar the Bermaki,
the Wazir?"  "Give it here," said they, and one of them took it
with the intent of handing it to the Minister when suddenly the
cannon roared;[FN#362] the palace was in a hubbub and each and
everyone cried, "What is to do?"  Hereat many voices replied,
"The Sultan, who hath been favoured with a man-child, who had
charged himself with the letter, threw it in that confusion from
his hand and Attaf was led to gaol as a vagrant.  Anon Ja'afar
took horse and, after letting read the Sultan's rescript about
the city-decorations, gave command that all the prisoners be
released, Attaf amongst the number.  As he issued forth the gaol
he beheld all the streets adorned with flags and tapestry, and
when evening approached eating-cloths and trays of food were set
and all fell-in, while sundry said to Attaf who was in pauper
plight, "Come and eat thou;" for it was a popular feast.[FN#363]
And affairs went on after this same fashion and the bands made
music and cannon was fired until ended the week of decoration
during which the folk ceased not to-ing and fro-ing.  As evening
evened Attaf entered a cathedral-mosque and prayed the
night-prayers when he was accosted by the eunchs who cried,
"Arise and gang this gait, that we may close the mosque-door, O
Attaf," for his name had become known.  He replied, "O man, the
Apostle of Allah saith, 'Whoso striveth for good is as the doer
thereof and the doer is of the people of Paradise:' so suffer me
to sleep here in some corner;" but quoth the other, "Up with thee
and be off: yesterday they stole me a bit of matting and to-night
I will bolt the door nor allow any to sleep here.  And indeed the
Apostle of Allah (whom the Almighty save and assain!) hath
forbidden sleep o' nights in the mosques."  Attaf had no
competence to persuade the Castrato by placing himself under his
protection, albeit he prayed him sore saying, "I am a stranger in
the city nor have I knowledge of any, so do thou permit me here
to pass this one night and no more."  But as he was again refused
he went forth into the thoroughfares where the street dogs barked
at him, and thence he trudged on to the market where the watchmen
and warders cried out at him, till at last he entered a ruinous
house where he stumbled when walking and fell over something
which proved to be a youth lately murthered, and in tripping he
fell upon his face and his garments were bewrayed and crimsoned
with blood.  And as he stood in doubt as to what must be done the
Wali and the watch, who were going round the town by night, met
him face to face; and as soon as they saw him all rushed at him
in a body and seizing him bore him to the gaol.  Here we leave
speaking of him; and now return we to Ja'afar and what befel him.
After he had set out from Damascus and sent back Attaf from the
Dome of the Birds he said in his mind, "Thou art about to
consummate marriage with a damsel and to travel until thou shalt
reach Baghdad, so meanwhile up and take thee an ewer of water and
make the Wuz\xFA and pray."  However, as he purposed that evening to
go in unto the wife of Attaf, controversy forewent
compliments[FN#364] and the tent-pitchers, who were sent on to
the next station to set up the pavilion of the bride and the
other tents.  Ja'afar took patience until every eye however
wakeful waxed sleep-full, at which time he rose up and went in to
Attaf's wife who, the moment she saw him enter, covered her face
with her hands as from a stranger.  "The Peace be upon thee!"
said he and said she, "With thee also be The Peace and the ruth
of Allah and His blessings."  Then he continued, "O daughter of
my father's brother[FN#365] why hast thou placed thy hand upon
thy face? in the lawful there be naught of shameful."  "True, O
my lord," she replied, "but Modesty is a part of Religion.  If to
one the like of thee it be a light matter that the man who
guested thee and served thee with his coin and his case be
treated on this wise and thou have the heart to take his mate
from him, then am I but a slave between thy hands."  "Art thou
the divorced wife of Attaf?" asked Ja'afar, and she answered, "I
am."  Quoth he, "And why did thy husband on such wise?" and quoth
she, "The while I stood watering plants at the window, thy
Highness deigned look upon me and thou toldest thy love to Attaf,
who forthright put me away and made me wife to thy Worship.  And
this is wherefore I conceal from thee my face."  Ja'afar cried,
"Thou art now unlawful to him and licit to me; but presently thou
shalt become illicit to me and legitimate to thy husband; so from
this time forth thou art dearer and more honorable to me than my
eyes and my mother and my sister.  But for the moment thy return
to Damascus is not possible for fear of foolish tongues lest they
prattle and say, 'Attaf went forth to farewell Ja'afar, and his
wife lay the night with the former, and thus have the back-bones
had a single lappet.'[FN#366]  However I will bear thee to
Baghdad where I will stablish thee in a spacious and well
furnished lodging with ten slave girls and eunuchs to serve thee;
and, as long as thou abide with me, I will give thee[FN#367]
every day five golden ducats and every month a suit of sumptuous
clothes.  Moreover everything in thy lodging shall be thine; and
whatever gifts and offerings be made to thee they shall be thy
property, for the folk will fancy thee to be my bride and will
entertain thee and escort thee to the Hammams and present thee
with sumptuous dresses.  After this fashion thou shalt pass thy
days in joyance and thou shalt abide with me in highmost honour
and esteem and worship till what time we see that can be done.
So from this moment forth[FN#368] throw away all fear and
hereafter be happy in heart and high in spirits, for that now
thou standest me in stead of mother and sister and here naught
shall befall thee save weal.  And now my first desire to thee
which burned in my soul hath been quenched and exchanged for
brotherly love yet stronger than what forewent it."  So Attaf's
wife rejoiced with exceeding joy; and, as they pursued their
journey, Ja'afar ceased not to clothe her in the finest of
clothes, so that men might honour her as the Wazir's Consort; and
ever to entreat her with yet increasing deference.  This endured
until they entered Baghdad-city where the attendants bore her
Takhtrawan into the Minister's Harem and an apartment was set
apart for her even as he had promised, and she was provided with
a monthly allowance of a thousand dianrs and all the comforts and
conveniences and pleasures whereof he had bespoken her; nor did
he ever allow his olden flame for her to flare up again, and he
never went near her, but sent messengers to promise her a speedy
reunion with her mate.  Such was the case of Ja'afar and Attaf's
wife; and now give ear to what befell and betided the Minister
during his first reception by his liege lord who had sorely
regretted his departure and was desolated by the loss of him.  As
soon as he presented himself before the Caliph, who rejoiced with
exceeding joy and returned his salute and his deprecation of
evil,[FN#369] the Commander of the Faithful asked him, "Where was
the bourne of this thy wayfare?" and he answered, "Damascus."
"And where didst alight?"  "In the house of one Attaf hight,"
rejoined Ja'afar, who recounted all that his host had done with
him from the beginning to the end.  The Prince of True Believers
took patience, until he had told his story and then cried to his
Treasurer saying, "Hie thee hence and open the Treasury and bring
me forth a certain book."  And when this was done he continued,
"Hand that volume to Ja'afar."  Now when the Minister took it and
read it he found written therein all that had occurred between
Attaf and himself and he left not reading till he came to the
time when the twain, host and guest, had parted and each had
farewel'ed other and Attaf had fared homewards.  Hereupon the
Caliph cried to him, "Close the book at what place it completeth
the recital of thy bidding adieu to Attaf and of his returning to
his own place, so shalt thou understand how it was I said to
thee, 'Near me not until thou bring that which is contained in
this volume.'"  Then the Commander of the Faithful restored the
book to the Treasurer saying, "Take this and set it in the
bibliotheca;" then, turning to Ja'afar he observed, "Verily
Almighty Allah (be He glorified and magnified!) hath deigned show
thee whatso I read therein until I fell a-weeping and a-laughing
at one and the same time.  So now do thou retire and hie thee
home."  Ja'afar did his bidding and reassumed the office of Wazir
after fairer fashion than he was before.  And now return we to
the purport of our story as regardeth the designs of Attaf and
what befel him when they took him out of gaol.  They at once led
him to the Kazi who began by questioning him, saying, "Woe to
thee, didst thou murther this H\xE1shimi?"[FN#370]  Replied he,
"Yes, I did!"  "And why killedst thou him?"  "I found him in
yonder ruin, and I struck him advisedly and slew him!"  "Art thou
in thy right senses?"  "Yea, verily."  "What may be thy name?"
"I am hight Attaf."  Now when the Judge heard this confession,
which was thrice repeated, he wrote a writ to the Mufti and
acquainted him with the contention; and the divine after
delivering his decision produced a book and therein indited the
proc\xE8s-verbal.  Then he sent notice thereof to Ja'afar the Wair
for official order to carry out the sentence and the Minister
took the document and affixing his seal and signature thereto
gave the order for the execution.  So they bore Attaf away and
led him to the gallows-foot whither he was followed by a world of
folk in number as the dust; and, as they set him under the tree
Ja'afar the Wazir, who was riding by with his suite at the time,
suddenly espied a crowd going forth the city.  Thereupon he
summoned the Sob\xE1sh\xED[FN#371] who came up to him and kissed his
knee.  "What is the object of this gathering of folk who be
manifold as the dust and what do they want?" quoth the Wazir; and
quoth the officer, "We are wending to hang[FN#372] a Syrian who
hath murthered a youth of Sharif family."  "And who may be this
Syrian?" asked the Wazir, and the other answered, "One hight
Attaf."  But when Ja'afar heard the word Attaf he cried out with
a mighty loud outcry and said, "Hither with him."  So after
loosing the noose from his neck they set him before the Wazir who
regarding him at once recognized his whilome host albeit he was
in the meanest of conditions, so he sprang up and threw himself
upon him and he in turn threw himself upon his sometime
quest.[FN#373]  "What condition be this?" quoth Ja'afar as soon
as he could speak, and quoth Attaf, "This cometh of my
acquaintance with thee which hath brought me to such pass."
Hereupon the twain swooned clean away and fell down fainting on
the floor, and when they came to themselves and could rise to
their feet Ja'afar the Wazir sent his friend Attaf to the Hammam
with a sumptuous suit of clothes which he donned as he came out.
Then the attendants led him to the Wazirial mansion where both
took seat and drank wine and ate the early meal[FN#374] and after
their coffee they sat together in converse.  And when they had
rested and were cheered, Ja'afar said, "Do thou acquaint me with
all that betided thee from the time we took leave each of other
until this day and date."  So Attaf fell to telling him how he
had been entreated by Abdal-Malik bin Marwan, Governor of Syria;
how he had been thrown into prison and how his enemy came thither
by night with intent to strangle him; also how the gaoler devised
a device to save him from slaughter and how he had fled nor
ceased flight till he drew near Baghdad when robbers had stripped
him; how he had lost an opportunity of seeing the Wazir because
the city had been decorated; and, lastly, what had happened to
him through being driven from the Cathedral-mosque; brief, he
recounted all from commencement to conclusion.  Hereupon the
Minister loaded him with benefits and presently gave orders to
renew the marriage-ceremony between man and wife; and she seeing
her husband led in to pay her the first visit lost her senses,
and her wits flew from her head and she cried aloud, "Would
Heaven I wot if this be on wake or the imbroglio of dreams!"  So
she started like one frightened and a moment after she threw
herself upon her husband and cried, "Say me, do I view thee in
vision or really in the flesh?" whereto he replied, "In the world
of sense and no sweven is this."  Then he took seat beside her
and related to her all that had befallen him of hardships and
horrors till he was taken from under the Hairibee; and she on her
part recounted how she had dwelt under Ja'afar's roof, eating
well and drinking well and dressing well and in honour and
worship the highmost that might be.  And the joy of this couple
on reunion was perfect.  But as for Ja'afar when the morning
morrowed, he arose and fared for the Palace; then, entering the
presence, he narrated to the Caliph all that had befallen Attaf,
art and part; and the Commander of the Faithful rejoined, "Indeed
this adventure is the most wondrous that can be, and the most
marvelous that ever came to pass."  Presently he called to the
Treasurer and bade him bring the book a second time from the
Treasury, and when it was brought the Prince of True Believers
took it, and handing it to Ja'afar, said to him, "Open and read."
So he perused the whole tale of Attaf with himself the while his
liege lord again wept and laughed at the same moment and said,
"In very deed, all things strange and rare are written and laid
up amongst the treasuries of the Kings; and therefor I cried at
thee in my wrath and forbade thee my presence until thou couldst
answer the question, What is there is this volume? and thou
couldst comprehend the cause of my tears and my smiles.  Then
thou wentest from before me and wast driven by doom of Destiny
until befel thee with Attaf that which did befal; and in fine
thou returnedst with the reply I required."  Then the Caliph
enrobed Ja'afar with a sumptuous honour-robe and said to the
attendants, "Bring hither to me Attaf."  So they went out and
brought him before the Prince of True Believers; and the Syrian
standing between his hands blessed the Sovran and prayed for his
honour and glory in permanence of prosperity and felicity.
Hereat quoth the Caliph, "O Attaf ask what thou wishest!"  and
quoth the generous man, "O King of the Age, I pray only thy
pardon for Abd al-Malik bin Marwan."  "For that he harmed htee?"
asked Harun al-Rashid, and Attaf answered, "O my lord, the
transgression came not from him, but from Him who caused him work
my wrong; and I have freely pardoned him.  Also do thou, O my
lord, write a Farm\xE1n with thine own hand certifying that I have
sold to the gaoler, and have received from the price thereof, all
my slaves and estates in fullest tale and most complete.
Moreover deign thou appoint him inspector over the Governor of
Syria[FN#375] and forward to him a signet-ring by way of sign
that no petition which doth not bear that seal shall be accepted
or even shall be heard and lastly transmit all this with a
Chamberlain unto Damascus."  Now all the citizens of Syria were
expecting some ill-turn from the part of Attaf, and with this
grievous thought they were engrossed, when suddenly tidings from
Baghdad were bruited abroad; to wit, that a Kapuji was coming on
Attaf's business.  Hereat the folk feared with exceeding great
affright and fell to saying, "Gone is the head of Abd al-Malik
bin Marwan, and gone all who could say aught in his defence."
And when the arrival of the Chamberlain was announced all fared
forth to meet and greet him, and he entered on a day of flocking
and crowding,[FN#376] which might be truly numbered amongst the
days and lives of men.  And presently he produced the writ of
indemnity, and pardon may not be procured save by one duly
empowered to pardon.  Then he sent for the gaoler and committed
to him the goods and chattels of Attaf, together with the signet
and the appointment of supervisor over the Governor of Syria with
an especial Farman that no order be valid unless sealed with the
superior's seal.  Nor was Abd al-Malik bin Marwan less rejoiced
that the adventure had ended so well for him when he saw the
Kapuji returning Baghdad-wards that he might report all
concerning his mission.  But as for Attaf, his friend Ja'afar
bestowed upon him seigniories and presented him with property and
moneys exceeding tenfold what he had whilome owned and made him
more prosperous than he had ever been aforetime.


Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, of New York, a correspondent who
already on sundry occasions has rendered me able aid and advice,
was kind enough to send me his copy of the Tale of Attaf (the "C.
MS." of the foregoing pages).  It is a small 4to of pp. 334, size
5 3/4 by 8 inches, with many of the leaves injured and repaired;
and written in a variety of handwritings, here a mere scribble,
there regular and legible as printed Arabic.  A fly-leaf inserted
into the Arabic binding contains in cursive hand the title, "A
Book embracing many Tales of the Tales of the Kings and named
'Stories from the Thousand Nights and a Night'."  And a note at
the end supplies the date: "And the finish thereof was on Fifth
Day (Thursday), 9th from the beginning of the auspicious month
Rab\xED'a 2nd, in the year 1096 of the Hijrah of the Apostle, upon
whom be the choicest of blessings and the fullest of greetings;
and Allah prospereth what he pleaseth,[FN#377] and praise be to
God the One."  Thus (A.H. 1096 = A.D. 1685) the volume is upwards
of 200 years old.  It was bought by Mr. Cotheal many years ago
with other matters among the effects of a deceased American
missionary who had brought it from Syria.

The "Tale of Attaf" occupies pp. 10-50, and the end is abrupt.
The treatment of the "Novel" contrasts curiously with that of the
Chavis MS. which forms my text, and whose directness and
simplicity give it a European and even classical character.  It
is an excellent study of the liberties allowed to themselves by
Eastern editors and scribes.  In the Cotheal MS. the tone is
distinctly literary, abounding in verse (sometimes repeated from
other portions of The Nights), and in Saj'a or Cadence which the
copyist sometimes denotes by marks in red ink.  The wife of Attaf
is a much sterner and more important personage than in my text:
she throws water upon her admirer as he gazes upon her from the
street, and when compelled to marry him by her father, she "gives
him a bit of her mind" as forcibly and stingingly as if she were
of "Anglo-Saxon" blood; e.g. "An thou have in thee aught of
manliness and generosity thou wilt divorce me even as he did."
Sundry episodes like that of the brutal Eunuch at Ja'afar's door,
and the Vagabond in the Mosque, are also introduced; but upon
this point I need say no more, as Mr. Cotheal shall now speak for

The Tale of Attaf.

Story of Attaf the generous, and what happened to him with the
Wazir Ja'afar who fell in love with a young lady not knowing her
to be the cousin-wife of Attaf who, in his generosity divorced
her and married her to him.  The Na\xEFb of Damascus being jealous
of Attaf's intimacy with Ja'afar imprisons him for treason and
pillages his property.  Escape of Attaf from prison and his
flight to Baghdad where he arrives in a beggarly condition, and
being accused of assassination is condemned to death, but being
released he goes to Ja'afar who recognises him and is rewarded by
him and the Caliph.  His wife is restored to him and after a
while they are sent home to Damascus of which he is appointed
Wali in place of the Na\xEFb who is condemned to death, but is
afterwards exiled.

In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, to whom we cry for help.

They say God is omniscient, knowing the past and the future, and we learn from
the histories of the peoples that there was in ancient times and bygone
seasons (and God knows best!) a Caliph of the Caliphs or the orthodox and he
was Harun er-Rashid who one night became very restless and from the drowsiness
that came upon him he sat down upon the bed and dressed himself in
sleeping-clothes; then it was that he called to his service Mesr\xFAr the
sword-bearer of grace who came immediately into his presence and said to him,
O Mesrur, the night is very oppressive and I wish thee to dispel my
uneasiness.  Then Mesrur said to him, O Commander of the Faithful, arise now
and go to the terrace-roof of the palace and look upon the canopy of heaven
and upon the twinkling stars and the brightness of the moon, while listening
to the music of the rippling streams and the creaking norias as they are
spoken of by the poet who said:--

A Noria that discharges by the spouts of her tears resembles the actions of a
distracted lover:
She is the lover of her branches (sweeps or levers) by the magic in her heart
until she laughs:
She complains and the tears run from her eyes, she rises in the morning to
find herself weeping and complaining.

Then he said, O Commander of the Faithful, the streams also are thus mentioned
by one of them:--

My favorite is a damsel dispensing drink, and my recreation is a running
A damsel whose eyes are a garden of Paradise, and a garden whose springs make
a running brook.

Then again said Harun er-Rashid, O Mesrur, such is not my wish, and Mesrur
replied, O Commander of the Faithful, in thy palace are three hundred and
sixty damsels, they are thy concubines and thy slaves, and they are as if they
were rising moons and beautiful gazelles, and in elegant robes they are
dressed like the flowers.  Walk around in the midst of the palaces and from
thy hiding-place see each of them enter by herself in her own apartment
admiring her beauty and her magnificent dresses, all showing their joy and
mirth since they will not know of thee; then listen to their singing and their
playing and their joyous company in their apartments and perhaps you'll attach
yourself to one of them who'll play with thee, keep thee awake and be thy
cup-companion, dispelling what may remain of thy restlessness.  But he
replied, O Mesrur, bring to me my cousin Ja'afar the Barmeky immediately.  So
he answered, Hearing is obedience.  Then Mesrur went out to the house of
Ja'afar and said to him, Come to the Commander of the Faithful, and he
answered, To hear is to obey.  Then Ja'afar dressed himself and went with
Mesrur to the Caliph and kissing the ground before him he said, May it be
good! O Commander of the Faithful.  It is not other than good, he answered,
but I am wearied this night with a great weariness and I sent for you to
divert me so that my unrest may be dissipated.  Then Ja'afar said, Let's get
up, O Commander of the Faithful, and we'll go out into the garden of the
palace and listen to the warbling of the birds and smell of the odours of the
flowers, and the cool zephyr with its gentle breath will pass over us,
dispelling our uneasiness and gladdening the heart.  The Rawi says that
Ja'afar was very familiar with the Caliph by reason of the endearment between
them.  Then the Caliph arose and with Ja'afar and Mesrur went to the garden.
The Caliph began to be thoughtful and asked about the trees and the qualities
of the flowers and the fruits and the nature of their colours, and as the
Caliph took pleasure in that, he walked around for an hour and then passed
over to the palaces and houses, going from place to place, from quarter to
quarter, and from market to market; and, whilst they were going on, they
stopped before a bookshop and the Caliph opened a book-case and began to turn
over the books one by one, and taking one in his hand opened it, began to read
in it, and then suddenly laughed until he fell upon his back.  He read in it
again and wept until his beard was wet with the falling tears, and wrapping up
the book he put it in his sleeve when Ja'afar said, O Commander of the
Faithful and Lord of the two worlds, what was it that made thee laugh and then
weep at the same time?  When the Caliph heard that he was angered and cried
out at him in the midst of his rage, O dog of a Barmeky, what an impertinence
on thy part about what concerns thee not, why meddle with what thou hast not
lost.  You've taken upon yourself to be annoying and conceited, you have
passed beyond your place and it only remained for you to brave the Caliph.  By
my fathers and grandfathers, if thou dost not bring me someone who can tell me
about the contents of this book from the first page to the last, I'll strike
thy neck and show thee what it is that has made me laugh and cry.  When
Ja'afar heard these words and saw his passion he said, O Commander of the
Faithful, I have committed a fault: a sin is for the like of me and
forgiveness for the like of your Highness; to which the Caliph answered, I
have made oath, thou must bring that person to explain the book or I'll strike
thy neck this very hour.  Then Ja'afar said, O Commander of the Faithful, God
created the heavens and the two worlds in six days and if it had pleased Him
He could have created them in a single hour, but He did so for an instruction
to his worshippers that one should not fault with another but be patient;
then, O Lord, be thou patient with thy servant if it be for three days only;
and the Caliph replied to him, If thou bringest not to me him whom I have
mentioned I will slay thee with the most horrible of deaths.  At this Ja'afar
said, I depart on thy mission; thereupon Ja'afar went home with a sorrowful
heart to his father Yahya and his brother El-Fadl to take leave of them and
weep.  Then they said to him, What is thy trouble? so he told them of what had
occurred between him and the Caliph and of the condition laid upon him of
execution if not complied with in three days, for doubtless the Caliph seeks
my death; he who strikes against a point, 'twill pierce his hand, and he that
struggles with a lion will be killed; but as to myself I can no longer remain
with him for that would be the greatest of dangers for me and for thee, O my
father, and for thee, O my brother.  I now set out to travel and I wish to go
far away from his eye.  The preservation of life is not esteemed and is of
little value: distance is the best preservative for our necks-as is said by
the poet:--

Save your life if menaced by evil (danger), and leave the house to complain of
the builder:
You'll find a land upon a land, but not another life for your own life.

When he had finished, his father and his brother said to him, Do not do so,
for probably the Caliph will be merciful to you.  And Ja'afar answered, Only
good will come of my travel.  Then he went to his treasure-room and took out a
purse containing 1,000 dinars, mounted his horse, put on his sword, bade adieu
to his father and brother and set forth in his time and hour; then, not taking
with him any servants, either slave or boy, he hastened on his journey,
travelling day and night for twenty days until he reached the city of Aleppo
without stopping, passing by Hamah and Homs until he reached Teniy\xE1t al-Ig\xE1b
and arrived at Damascus where he entered the city and saw the Minaret of the
Bride from bottom to top covered with gilded tiles; and it surrounded with
meadows, irrigated gardens with all kinds of flowers, fields of myrtle with
mountains of violets and other beauties of the gardens.  He dwelt upon these
charms while listening to the singing of the birds in the trees; and he saw a
city whose like has never been created in any other country of the world.
Turning then to the right hand and to the left he espied a man standing near
him and said to him, O my brother, what's the name of this city? and he
answered, O my lord, this city in ancient times was called Jullag the same
that is mentioned by the poet who says:--

I am called Jullag and my heart I attach, in me flow the waters, in and out;
The Garden of Eden upon the earth, birth-place of the fairies:
I will never forget thy beauties, O Damascus, for none but thee will I ever
Blessed be the wonders that glitter on thy roofs (expanse).

She was also called Sham (grain of beauty) because she is the Sham of Cities
and the Sham of God on earth.  Ja'afar was pleased at the explanation of the
name, and dismounted with the intention of taking a stroll through the
streets, by the great houses and the domes (mosks).  Whilst thus engaged in
examining the various places and their beauties, he perceived a tent of silk
brocade called Dib\xE1j, containing carpets, furniture, cushions, silk curtains,
chairs and beds.  A young man was sitting upon a mattress, and he was like a
rising moon, like the shining orb in its fourteenth night.  He was in an
undress, upon his head a kerchief and on his body a rose-coloured gaberdine;
and as he sat before him were a company and drinks worthy of Kings.  Ja'afar
stopped and began to contemplate the scene, and was pleased with what he saw
of the youth; then looking further he espied a damsel like unto the sun in
serene firmament who took her lute and played on it while singing:--

Evil to whoever have their heart in possession of their lovers, for in
     obtaining it they will kill it:
They have abandoned it when they have seen it amorous: when they see it
     amorous they abandon it.
Nursling, they pluck it out from the very entrails: O bird, repeat "Nursling
     they have plucked thee out!"
They have killed it unjustly: the loved plays the coquette with the humble
The seeker of the effects of love, love am I, brother of love, and sigh
Behold the man stricken by love, though his heart change not they bury it (him?).

The Rawi said that Ja'afar was pleased and he rejoiced at hearing the song and
all his organs were moved at the voice of the damsel and he said, Wallahy, it is
fine.  Then she began again to sing, reciting the following verses:--

With these sentiments thou art in love, it is not wonderful that I should love
I stretch out my hand to thee asking for mercy and pity for my humility--mayst
     thou be charitable;
My life has passed away soliciting thy consent, but I have not found it in my
     confidence to be charitable,
And I have become a slave in consequence of her possession of love my heart is
     imprisoned and my tears flow.

When the poem was finished Ja'afar gave himself up more and more to the pleasure
of hearing and looking at the damsel.  The youth, who was reclining, sat up and
calling some of his boys said to them, Don't you see that young man standing
there in front of us?  They answered, Yes, and he said, He must be a stranger for
I see on him the signs of travel; bring him to me and take care not to offend
him.  They answered, With joy and gladness, and went towards Ja'afar, who, while
contemplating the damsel, perceived the boy that came and who said to him, In the
name of God, O my lord, please have the generosity to come in to our master.
Ja'afar came with the boy to the door of the tent, dismounted from his horse and
entered at hte moment when the youth was rising upon his feet, and he stretched
out his two hands and saluted him as if he had always known him, and after he had
chanted the prayer to the envoy (of Allah) he sang:--

O my visitor be welcome, thou enlivenest us and bringest us our union:
By thy face I live when it appears and I die if it disappears.

Then he said to Ja'afar, Please be seated, my dear sir; thanks be to God for your
happy arrival; and he continued his chant after another prayer to the envoy (of

If we had known of thy arrival we would have covered (thy) heart with the black
     of our eyes,
And we would have spread the street with out cheeks that thy coming might have
     been between our eyelids.

After that he arose, kissed the breast of Ja'afar, magnified his power and said
to him, O my Master, this day is a happy one and were it not a fast-day I would
have fasted for thee to render thanks to God.  Then came up the servants to whom
he said, Bring us what is ready.  They spread the table of viands and the youth
said, O my lord, the Sages say, If you are invited content yourself with what's
before you, but if you are not invited, stay not and visit not again; if we had
known that you would arrive to-day we would have sacrified the flesh of our
bodies and our children.  Ja'afar said, I put out my hand and I ate until I was
satisfied, while he was presenting me with his hand the delicate morsels and
taking pleasure in entertaining me.  When we had finished they brought the ewer
and basin, we washed our hands and we passed into the drinking room where he told
the damsel to sing.  She took up her lute, tuned it, and holding it against her
breast she began:--

A visitor of whom the sight is venerated by all, sweeter than either spirit or
He spreads the darkness of his hair over the morning dawn and the dawn of shame
     appeared not;
And when my lot would kill me I asked his protection, his arrival revived a soul
     that death reclaimed:
I've become the slave of the Prince of the Lovers and the dominion of love was
     of my making.

The Rawi says that Ja'afar was moved with exceeding joy, as was also the youth,
but he did not fail to be fearful on account of his affair with the Caliph, so
that it showed itself in his countenance, and this anxiety was apparent to the
youth who knew that he was anxious, frightened, dreaming and uncertain.  Ja'afar
perceived that the youth was ashamed to question him on his position and the
cause of his condition, but the youth said to him, O my lord, listen to what the
Sages have said:--

Worry not thyself for things that are to come, drive away your cares by the
     intoxicating bowl:
See you not that hands have painted beautiful flowers on the robes of drink?
Spoils of the vine-branch, lilies and narcissus, and the violet and the striped
     flower of N'uman:
If troubles overtake you, lull them to sleep with liquors and flowers and

Then said he to Ja'afar, Contract not thy breast, and to the damsel, Sing; and
she sang, and Ja'afar who was delighted with her songs, said Let us not cease our
enjoyment, now in conversation, now in song until the day closes and night comes
with darkness.

The youth ordered the servants to bring up the horses and they presented to his
guest a mare fit for Kings.  We mounted (said Ja'afar), and, entering Damascus,
I proceeded to look at the bazars and the streets until we came to a large square
in the middle of which were two mastabas or stone benches before a high doorway
brilliantly illuminated with divers lights, and before a porti\xE8re was suspended
a lamp by a golden chain.  There were lofty domes surrounded by beautiful
statues, and containing various kinds of birds and abundance of flowing water,
and in their midst was a hall with windows of silver.  He opened it and found it
looking upon a garden like that of Paradise animated by the songs of the birds
and the perfumes of the flowers and the ripple of the brooks.  The house, wherein
were fountains and birds warbling their songs understood in every language, was
carpeted with silken rugs and furnished with cushions of Dibaj-brocade.  It
contained also in great number costly articles of every kind, it was perfumed
with the odours of flowers and fruits and it contained every other imaginable
thing, plates and dishes of silver and gold, drinking vessels, and a censer for
ambergris, powder of aloes and every sort of dried fruits.  Brief, it was a house
like that described by the poet:--

Society became perfectly brilliant in its beauty and shone in the eclat of its

Ja'afar said, When I sat down the youth came to me and asked, From what country
art thou?  I replied, From Basora, soldier by profession, commandant over a
company of men and I used to pay a quit-rent to the Caliph.  I became afraid of
him for my life and I came away fleeing with downcast face for dread of him, and
I never ceased wandering about the country and in the deserts until Destiny has
brought me to thee.  The youth said, A blessed arrival, and what may be thy name?
I replied, My name is like thine own.  On hearing my words he smiled, and said,
laughing, O my lord, Abu 'l-Hasan, carry no trouble in your heart nor contraction
of your breast; then he ordered a service and they set for us a table with all
kinds of delicacies and we ate until satisfied.  After this they took away the
table and brought again the ewer and basin and we washed our hands and then went
to the drinking room where there was a pleasaunce filled with fruits and flowers
in perfection.  Then he spoke to the damsel for music and she sang, enchanting
both Ja'afar and the youth with delight at her performances, and the place itself
was agitated, and Ja'afar in the excess of his joy took off his robes and tore
them.  Then the youth said to him, Wallahy, may the tearing be the effect of the
pleasure and not of sorrow and waywardness, and may God disperse far from you the
bitterness of your enemies.  Then he went to a chest (continued Ja'afar) and took
out from it a complete dress, worth a hundred dinars and putting it upon me said
to the damsel, Change the tune of thy lute.  She did so, and sang the following

My jealous regard is attached to him and if he regard another I am impatient:
I terminate my demand and my song, crying, Thy friendship will last until death
in my heart.

The Rawi said: When she had finished her poetry Ja'afar threw off the last dress
and cried out, and the youth said, May God ameliorate your life and make its
beginning the end.  Then he went to the chest and took out a dress better than
the first and put it upon Ja'afar and the damsel was silent for an hour during
the conversation.  The youth said, Listen, O my lord Abu 'l-Hasan, to what people
of merit have said of this valley formerly called the Valley of Rabwat in which
we now are and spoken of in the poem, saying:--

O bounty of our Night in the valley of Rabwat where the gentle zephyr brings in
     her perfumes:
It is a valley whose beauty is like that of the necklace: trees and flowers
     encompass it.
Its fields are carpeted with every variety of flowers and the birds fly around
     above them;
When the trees saw us seated beneath them they dropped upon us their fruits.
We continued to exchange upon the borders of its gardens the flowing bowls of
     conversation and of poesy,
The valley was bountiful and her zephyrs brought to us what the flowers had sent
     to us.

So when the youth had finished his recitation he turned to the damsel and told
her to sing:--

I consume (with desire) when I hear from him a discourse whose sweetness is a
     melting speech:
My heart palpitates when he sees it, it is not wonderful that the drunken one
     should dance:
It has on this earth become my portion, but on this earth I have no chance to
     obtain it.
O Lord! tell me the fault that I've committed, perhaps I may be able to correct
I find in thee a heart harder than that of others and the hearts consume my

Now when she had finished, Ja'afar in his joy threw off the third dress.  The
youth arose, kissed him on the head, and then took out for him another suit and
put it upon him, for he was the most generous man of his time.  Then he
enteretained Ja'afar with the news of the day and of the subjects and anecdotes
of the great pieces of poetry and said to him, O my lord, load not thyself with
cares.  The Rawi says that they continued living in the same way for forty days
and on the forty-first Ja'afar said to the young man, Know, O my lord, that I
have left my country neither for eating nor for drinking, but to divert myself
and to see the world; but if God vouchsafe my return to my country to talk to my
people, my neighbours and frieds, and they ask me where I have been and what I
have seen, I will tell them of your generosity and of the great benefactions that
you have heaped upon me in your country of Damascus.  I will say that I have
sighted this and that, and thus I will entertain them with what I have espied in
Damascus and of its order.  The young man replied, Thou sayest true: and Ja'afar
said, I desire to go out and visit the city, its bazars and its streets, to which
the young man answered, With love and good will, to-morrow morning if it please
Allah.  That night Ja'afar slept there and when God brought the day, he rose,
went in to the young man, wished him good morning and said to him, O my lord, thy
promise! to which he replied, With love and good will; and, ordering a white
dress for him, he handed him a purse of three hundred dinars saying, Bestow this
in charity and return quick after thou hast made thy visit, and lastly said to
his servants, Bring to your lord a horse to ride.  But Ja'afar answered, I do not
wish to have one, for a rider cannot observe the people but the people observe
him.  The young man, who was named Attaf, said, O my lord, be it as thou wishest
and desirest; be not away long on my account for thine absence gives me pain.
Then he gave to Ja'afar a grain of red musk saying, Take this and keep it in thy
hand and if thou go into any place where there is a bad odour thou wilt take a
smell of the musk.  Ja'afar the Barmeky (Allah be merciful to him!) said, After
that I left him and set out to walk in the streets and quarters of Damascus and
went on until I came to the Most of the 'Omeyyades where I saw a fountain casting
the water from its upper part and falling like serpents in their flight.  I sat
down under the pulpit; and as it was a Friday I heard the preacher and made my
Friday prayer and remained until I made the afternoon prayer when I went to
distribute the money I had, after which I recited these verses:--

I see the beauties united in the mosk of Jullag, and around her the meaning of
     beauty is explained;
If people converse in the mosks tell them their entrance door is open.

Then I left the mosk and began to promenade the quarters and the streets until
I came before a splendid house, broad in its richness and strong in its build,
having a border of gold astonishing the mind by the beauty of the work, showing
curtains of silk embroidered with gold and in front of the door were two carpeted
steps.  I sat down upon one of them and began to think of myself and of the
events that had happened to me and of my ignorance of what had taken place after
my departure.  In the midst of my sadness at the contemplation of my troubles
(and the wind blowing upon me) I fell asleep and I awaked not until a sprinkling
of water came down upon me.  On opening my eyes I saw a young woman behind the
curtain dressed in a morning gown and a Sa'\xFAd\xED fillet upon her forehead.  Her
look and eyelids were full of art and her eyebrows were like the fronts of the
wings of light.  The Rawi says she resembled a full moon.  When my eyes fell upon
her (continued Ja'afar) and looked at her, that look brought with it a thousand
sighs and I arose and my disposition was changed.  The young woman cried at me
and I said, I am your servant, O my lady, and here at thy command, but said she,
No labbayka and no favour for thee!  Is this house thine?  Said I, No my lady,
and she replied, O dog of the streets, this house is not thine, why art thou
sitting here?  When Ja'afar heard this he was greatly mortified, but he took
courage and dissimulated, answering, O my lady, I am resting here only to recite
some verses which I have composed for thee, then she asked, And what hast thou
said about me?  He continued:--

She appeared in a whitish robe with eyelids and glances of wonder,
I said she came out without greeting, with her I'm content to my heart's
Blessed be He that clothed thy cheeks with roses, He can create what He wills
     without hindrance.
Thy dress like thy lot is as my hand, white, and they are white upon white upon
     my white.

When he had finished these verses he said, I have composed others on thine
expression, and recited the following:--

Dost thou see through her veil that face appearing how it shines, like the moon
     in the horizon?
Its splendour enlightens the shade of her temples and the sun enters into
     obscurity by system;
Her forehead eclipses the rose and the apple, and her look and expression
     enchant the people;
It is she that if mortal should see her he'd become victim of love, of the fires
     of desire.

On hearing this recitation the young lady said to Ja'afar, Miserable fellow, what
is this discourse which does not belong to the like of thee?  Get up and begone
with the malediction of Allah and the protection of Satan.  Ja'afar arose, seized
with a mighty rage in addition to his love; and in this love for her he departed
and returned to the house of his friend Attaf and saluted him with a prepossessed
heart.  As soon as Attaf saw him he cast himself on his breast and kissed him
between the eyes, saying to him, O my lord, thou hast made me feel desolate
to-day by thine absence.  Then Attaf, looking in the face of Ja'afar and reading
in it many words, continued to him, O my lord, I find thy countenance changed and
thy mind broken.  Ja'afar answered, O my lord, since I left thee up to the
present time I have been suffering with a headache and a nervous attack for I was
sleeping upon my ear.  The people in the mosk recited the afternoon prayer
without my knowing it, and now I have a mind to get an hour's sleep, probably I
shall find repose for the body, and what I suffer will pass off.  Accordingly,
Attaf went into the house and ordered cushions to be brought out and a bed to be
made for him.  Ja'afar then stretched himself upon it depressed and out of
spirits, and covering himself up began to think of the young lady and of the
offensive words she gave him so contrary to usage.  Also he thoguht of her beauty
and the elegance of her stature and perfect proportions and of what Allah (to
whom be praise!) had granted her of magnificence.  He forgot all that happened
to him in other days and also his affair with the Caliph and his people and his
friends and his society.  Such was the burden of his thoughts until he was taken
with monomania and his body wasted.  Hereupon Attaf sent for doctors, they
surrounded him constantly, they employed all their talents for him, but they
could find no remedy.  So he remained during a certain time without anyone being
able to discover what was the matter with him.  The breast of Attaf became
straitened, he renounced all diversions and pleasures, and Ja'afar getting worse
and worse, his trouble augmented.  One day a new doctor arrived, a man of
experience in the art of gallantry, whose name was Dabdihk\xE1n.  When he came to
Ja'afar and looked at his face and felt his pulse and found everything in its
place, no suffering, no pain, he comprehended that he was in love, so he took a
paper and wrote a prescription and placed it beneath Ja'afar's head.  He then
said, Thy remedy is under thy head, I've prescribed a purge, if thou take it thou
wilt get well, for he was ashamed to tell Attaf his love-sick condition.
Presently, the Doctor went away to other patients and Attaf arose and when about
entering to see Ja'afar he heard him recite the following verses:--

A doctor came to me one day and took my hand and pulse, when I said to him Let
     go my hand, the fire's in my heart.
He said, Drink syrup of the rose and mix it well with water of the tongue but
     tell it not to anyone:
I said, The syrup of the rose is quite well known to me; it is the water of the
     cheek that breaks my very heart;
But can it be that I can get the water of the tongue that I may cool the burning
     fire that within me dwells?
The doctor said, Thou art in love, I said Yes to him, and said he to me, Its
     remedy is to have the body here.

Then when Attaf went in to him after the end of the recitation he sat down at the
head of the bed and asked him about his condition and what had been perscribed
for him by the Hak\xEDm.  Ja'afar said, O my lord, he wrote for me a paper which is
under the pillow.  Attaf put out his hand, took the paper and read it and found
upon it written:--"In the name of God the Curer--To be taken, with the aid and
blessing of God, 3 miskals of pure presence of the beloved unmixed with morsels
of absence and fear of being watched: plus, 3 miskals of a good meeting cleared
of any grain of abandonment and rupture: plus, 2 okes of pure friendship and
discretion deprived of the wood of separation.  Then take some extract of the
incense of the kiss, the teeth and the waist, 2 miskals of each; also take 100
kisses of pomegranate rubbed and rounded, of which 50 small ones are to be
sugared, 30 pigeon-fashion and 20 after the fashion of little birds.  Take of
Aleppine twist and sigh of Al-Ir\xE1q 2 miskals each; also 2 okes of tongue-sucking,
mouth and lip kissing, all to be pounded and mixed.  Then put upon a furnace 3
drams of Egyptian grain with the addition of the beautiful fold of plumpness,
boil it in love-water and syrup of desire over a fire of wood of pleasure in the
retreat of the ardour.  Decant the whole upon a royal d\xEDb\xE1qy divan and add to it
2 okes of saliva syrup and drink it fasting during 3 days.  Next take for dinner
the melon of desire mixed with embrace-almond and juice of the lemon of concord,
and lastly 3 rolls of thigh-work and enter the bath for the benefit of your
health.  And--The Peace!"  When Attaf had finished reading of this paper he burst
into a laugh at the prescription and, turning to Ja'afar, he asked him with whom
he was in love and of whom he was enamoured.  Ja'afar gave no answer, he spoke
not neither did he commence any discourse, when Attaf said, O my brother, thou
are not my friend, but thou art in my house esteemed as is the soul in the body.
Between me and thee there has been for the last four months friendship, company,
companionship and conversation.  Why then conceal thy situation?  For me, I have
fear and sorrow on thine account.  Thou art a stranger, thou art not of this
capital.  I am a son of this city, I can dispel what thou hast (of trouble) and
that of which thou sufferest.  By my life, which belongs to you, by the bread and
salt between us, reveal to me thy secret.  And Attaf did not cease to speak thus
until Ja'afar yielded and said to him, It shall no longer be concealed, and I
will not blame those who are in love and are impatient.  Then he told his story
from beginning to end, what was said to him by the young lady and what she did
with him and lastly he described the quarter and the place.  Now when Attaf heard
the words of Ja'afar he reflected on the description of the house and of the
young lady and concluded that the house was his house and the young lady was his
cousin-wife, and said to himself, There is no power nor strength but in Allah the
High, the Great.  We are from God and to Him we return.  Then he came to his mind
again and to the generosity of his soul and said to himself, O Attaf! God hath
favored me and hath made me worthy of doing good and hath sent to me I know not
whence this stranger who hath become bound in friendship with me during all this
time and he hath acquired over me the ties of friendship.  His heart hath become
attached to the young woman and his love for her hath reached in him an imminent
point.  Since that time he is almost on the verge of annihilation, in so pitiable
a condition and behold, he hopeth from me a good issue from his trouble.  He hath
made known to me his situation after having concealed it for so long a time: if
I do not befriend him in his misfortune I should resemble him who would build
upon water and thus would aid him to annihilate his existence.  By the
magnanimity of my God, I will further him with my property and with my soul.  I
will divorce my cousin and will marry her to him and I will not change my
character, my generosity nor my resolution.  The Rawi says, that young woman was
his wife and his cousin, also a second wife as he was previously married to
another, and she occupied the house, his own house containing all that he
possessed of property and so forth, servants, odalisques and slaves.  There was
also his other house which was for his guests, for drinking and eating and to
receive his friends and his company.  Of this, however, he said nothing to his
cousin-wife when he came to see her at certain times.  When he heard that Ja'afar
was in love with her he could not keep from saying to him, Be quiet, I take upon
myself to dispel thy chagrin, and soon I shall have news of her, and if she is
the daughter of the Na\xEFb of Damascus I will take the proper steps for thee even
though I should lose all my property; and if she is a slave-girl I will buy her
for thee even were her price such as to take all I possess.  Thus he calmed the
anguish of Ja'afar the best way he could; then he went out from his own house and
entered that of his cousin-wife without making any change in his habits or saying
a single word save to his servants, Go to my uncle's and bring him to me.  The
boy then went for the uncle and brought him to Attaf, and when the uncle entered
the nephew arose to receive him, embraced him and made him be seated, and, after
he had been seated awhile, Attaf came to him and said, O my uncle! there is
naught but good!  Know that when God wills good to his servitor he shows to him
the way and my heart inclines to Meccah, to the house of God, to visit the tomb
of Mohammed (for whom be the most noble of prayers and the most complete of
salutations!).  I have decided to visit those places this year and I cannot leave
behind me either attachments or debts or obligations; nothing in fact that can
disturb the mind, for no one can know who will be the friend of the morrow.
Here, then, is the writ of divorce of thy daughter and of my other wife.  Now
when his uncle heard that, he was troubled and exaggerating to himself the
matter, he said, O son of my brother, what is it that impels thee to this?  If
thou depart and leave her and be absent as long as thou willest she is yet thy
wife and thy dependent which is sufficient.  But Attaf said, O my uncle, what
hath been done is done.  As soon as the young wife heard that, the abomination
of desolation overcame her, she became as one in mourning and was upon the point
of killing herself, because she loved her husband by reason of his relationship
and his education.  But this was done by Attaf only to please Ja'afar, and for
that he was incited by his duty to do good to his fellow beings.  Then Attaf left
the house and said to himself, If I delay this matter it will be bruited abroad,
and will come to the ears of my friend who will be afflicted and will be ashamed
to marry, and what I have done will come to naught.  The divorce of Attaf's
second spouse was only out of regard to his cousin-wife, and that there might not
be an impediment to the success of his project.  Then Attaf proceeded to his
guesthouse and went in to Ja'afar, who when he saw him, asked where he had been.
Attaf replied, Make yourself easy, O my brother, I am now occupied with your
affair, I have sought out the young lady and I know her.  She is divorced from
her husband and her 'iddah is not yet expired, so expand your breast and gladden
your soul, for when her obligatory term of waiting shall be accomplished I will
marry her to you.  And Attaf ceased not to diver him by eating and drinking,
amusements and shows, song and songstress until he knew that the 'iddah of his
cousin had ended; then he went to Ja'afar and said to him, Know, O my lord, that
the father of the young woman thou sawest is one of my friends, and if I betroth
her that would not be proper on my part and he will say: My friend hath not done
well in betrothing my daughter to a man who is a stranger and whom I know not.
He will take her and carry her to his own country and we shall be separated.  Now
I have an idea that has occurred to me, and 'tis to send out for you a tent with
ten mamelukes and four servants upon horses and mules, baggage, stuffs, chests
of dresses, and horses and gilded vehicles.  Everything I have mentioned will be
placed outside the city that no one shall know of thee, and I will say that thou
art Ja'afar the Barmeky the Caliph's Wazir.  I will go to the Kady and the Wali
and the Na\xEFb and I will inform them of thee (as Ja'afar); so will they come out
to meet and salute thee.  Then thou wilt salute them and tell them that thou hast
come on business of the Caliph.  Thou must also say thou hast heard that Damascus
is a very fine city and a hospitable, and add, I will go in to visit it and if
it prove favourable to me I will remain and marry to establish between myself and
its inhabitants relationship and friendship, and I would like you to seek for me
a man of high position and noble origin who hath a beautiful cousin that I may
marry.  Attaf then said to Ja'afar, O my lord, we know one who hath a daughter
of noble origin, that man is such-and-such an one, ask her of him for betrothal
and say to him, Here is her dowry, which is all that thou hast in the chests.
Then produce a purse of a thousand dinars and distribute them among those
present, and display the characteristic of the Barmekys, and take out a piece of
silken stuff and order them to draw up the marriage contract immediately.  If
they sign it, declare to them that thou wilt not enter the city because thou art
pressed and thy bride will come to thee.  Should thou do thus, thou wilt
accomplish what thou desirest, God willing, then leave instantly and order that
the tents be struck, the camels loaded, and set out for thine own country in
peace.  Know that all I shall do for you is little for the rights of friendship
and devotedness.  Ja'afar sprang up to kiss the hand of Attaf, but was prevented,
then he thanked him and praised him and passed the night with him.  The next
morning at break of day he arose, made his ablutions, and having recited his
morning prayer, accompanied his host to the outside of the city.  Attaf ordered
a great tent to be pitched and that everything necessary should be carried to it;
of horses, camels, mules, slaves, mamelukes, chests containing all kinds of
articles for distribution, and boxes holding purses of gold and silver.  He
dressed his guest in a robe worthy of a Wazir, and set up for him a throne and
sent some slaves to the Na\xEFb of Damascus to announce the arrival of Ja'afar on
business of the Caliph.  As soon as the Na\xEFb of Damascus was informed of that,
he went out accompanied by the notables of the city and of his government and met
the Wazir Ja'afar, and kissing the ground between his hands, said to him, O my
lord, why didst thou not inform me sooner in order that we might be prepared for
thine arrival.  Ja'afar said, That was not necessary, may God augment thy wealth,
I have not come but with the intention to visit this city; I desire to stay in
it for some time and I would also marry in it.  I have learned that the Am\xEDr 'Amr
has a daughter of noble descent, I wish thou wouldst cause her to be brought
before thee and that thou betroth her to me.  The Na\xEFb of Damascus said, Hearing
is obeying.  Her husband hath divorced her and desireth to go to al-Hejaz on the
pilgrimage, and after her 'iddah hath expired and there remaineth not any
impediment the betrothal can take place.  At the proper time the Na\xEFb of Damascus
caused to be present the father of the lady and spoke to him of what the Wazir
Ja'afar had said and that he should betroth his daughter, so that there was
nothing more for the father to say than, I hear and I obey.  The Rawi says that
Ja'afar ordered to be brought the dress of honour and the gold from the purses
to be thrown out for distribution and commanded the presence of the Kady and
witnesses; and, when they arrived, he bade them write the marriage contract.
Then he brought forward and presented the ten chests and the ten purses of gold,
the dowry of the bride, and all those present, high and low, and rich and poor
gave him their best wishes and congratulations.  After the father of the lady had
taken the dowry he ordered the Kady to draw up the contract and presented to him
a piece of satin; he also called for sugar-water to drink and set before them the
table of viands, and they ate and washed their hands.  Afterwards they served
sweet dishes and fruits; and when that was finished and the contract passed, the
Na\xEFb of Damascus said to the Wazir, O my lord, I will prepare a house for thy
residence and for the reception of thy wife.  Ja'afar said, That cannot be; I am
here on a commission of the Commander of the Faithful, and I wish to take my wife
with me to Baghdad and only there can I have the bridal ceremonies.  The father
of the lady said, Enter unto thy bride and depart when thou wilt.  Ja'afar
replied, I cannot do that, but I wish thee to make up the trousseau of thy
daughter and have it ready so as to depart this very day.  We only wait, said the
father of the bride, for the Na\xEFb of Damascus to retire, to do what the Wazir
commands.  He answered, With love and good will; and the lady's father set about
getting together the trousseau and making her ready.  He took her out and got her
trousseau, mounted her upon a Hodaj, and when she arrived at Ja'afar's camp her
people made their adieus and departed.  When Ja'afar had ridden to some distance
from Damascus and had arrived at Tiniat el 'Iq\xE1b he looked behind him and
perceived in the distance in the direction of Damascus a horseman galloping
towards him; so he stopped his attendants and when the rider had come near them
Ja'afar looked at him and behold it was Attaf.  He had come out after him and
cried, Hasten not, O my brother.  And when he came up he embraced him and said,
O my lord, I have found no rest without thee, O my brother Abu 'l-Hasan, it would
have been better for me never to have seen thee nor known thee, for now I cannot
support thine absence.  Ja'afar thanked him and said to him, I have not been able
to act against what thou hast prescribed for me and provided, but we pray God to
bring near our reunion and never more separate us.  He is Almighty to do what He
willeth.  After that Ja'afar dismounted and spread a silken carpet and they sat
down together, and Attaf laid a tablecloth with duck, chicken, sweets and other
delicacies, of which they ate and he brought out dry fruits and wine.  They drank
for an hour of the day when they remounted their horses and Attaf accompanied
Ja'afar a way on the journey, when Ja'afar said to him, Every departer must
return, and he pressed him to his breast and kissed him and said to him, O my
brother Abu 'l-Hasan, do not interrupt the sending of thy letters; but make known
to me about thyself, and thy condition as if I were present with thee.  Then they
bade each other adieu and each went on his way.  When the young wife noticed that
the camels had stopped on their march as well as their people, she put out her
head from the Hodaj and saw her cousin dismounting with Ja'afar and they eating
and drinking together and then in company to the end of the road where they bade
adieu exchanging a recitation of poetry.  So she said, The one, Wallahy, is my
cousin Attaf and the other the man whom I saw seated under the window, and upon
whom I sprinkled the water.  Doubtless he is the friend of my cousin.  He hath
been seized with love for me, and complaining to my cousin, hath given him a
description of me and of my house; and the devotedness of his character and the
greatness of his soul must have impelled him to divorce me and to take steps to
marry me to that man.  The Rawi says that Attaf in bidding good-bye to Ja'afar
left him joyful in the possession of the young lady for whom he was on the point
of ruin by his love, and in having made the friendship of Attaf whom he intended
to reward in gratitude for what he had done by him.  So glad was he to have the
young wife that everything that had taken place with Er-Rashid had passed out of
his mind.  In the meanwhile she was crying and lamenting over what had happened
to her, her separation from her cousin and from her parents and her country, and
bemoaning what she did and what she had been; and her scalding tears flowed while
she recited these verses:--

I weep for these places and these beauties; blame not the lover if some day he's
For the places the dear ones inhabit.  O praise be to God! how sweet is their
God protect the past days while with you, my dear friends, and in the same house
     may happiness join us!

On finishing this recitation she wept and lamented and recited again:--

I'm astonished at living without you at the troubles that come upon us:
I wish for you, dear absent ones, my wounded heart is still with you.

Then, still crying and lamenting, she went on:--

O you to whom I gave my soul, return; from you I wish'd to pluck it, but could
     not succeed:
Then pity the rest of a life that I've sacrificed for thee, before the hour of
     death my last look I will take:
If all of thee be lost astonished I'll not be; my astonishment would be that his
     lot will be to another.

Presently the Wazir Ja'afar coming up to the Hodaj said to the young wife, O
mistress of the Hodaj, thou hast killed us.  When she heard this address she
called to him with dejection and humility, We ought not to talk to thee for I am
the cousin-wife of thy friend and companion Attaf, prince of generosity and
devotion.  If there be in thee any feeling of the self-denial of a man thou wilt
do for him that which, in his devotion, he hath done for thee.  When Ja'afar
heard these words he became troubled and taking in the magnitude of the situation
he said to the young lady, O thou! thou art then his cousin-wife? and said she,
Yes! it is I whom thou sawest on such a day when this and that took place and thy
heart attached itself to me.  Thou hast told him all that.  He divorced me, and
while waiting for the expiration of my 'iddah diverted thee that such and such
was the cause of all my trouble.  Now I have explained to thee my situation: do
thou the action of a man.  When Ja'afar heard these words he uttered a loud cry
and said, We are from God and to Him we return.  O thou! thou art now to me an
interdiction and hast become a sacred deposit until thy return to where it may
please thee.  Then said Ja'afar to a servant, Take good care of thy mistress.
After which they set foward and travelled on day and night.  Now Er-Rashid, after
the departure of Ja'afar, became uneasy and sorrowful at his absence.  He lost
patience and was tormented with a great desire to see him again, while he
regretted the conditions he had imposed as impossible to be complied with and
obliging him to the extremity of tramping about the country like a vagabond, and
forcing him to abandon his native land.  He had sent envoys after him to search
for him in every place, but he had never received any news of him, and was cast
into great embarrassment by reason of his absence.  He was always waiting to hear
of him, and when Ja'afar had approached Baghdad and he, Er-Rashid, had received
the good tidings of his coming, he went forth to meet him, and as soon as they
came together they embraced each other, and the Caliph became content and joyful.
They entered together into the palace and the Prince of True Believers seating
Ja'afar at his side, said to him, Relate to me thy story where thou hast been
during thine absence and what thou hast come upon.  So Ja'afar told him then all
that had happened from the time he left him until the moment of finding himself
between his hands.  Er-Rashid was greatly astonished and said, Wallahy, thou hast
made me sorrowful for thine absence, and hast inspired me with great desire to
see thy friend.  My opinion is that thou divorce this young lady and put her on
the road homeward accompanied by someone in whom thou hast confidence.  If thy
friend have an enemy he shall be our enemy, and if he have a friend he also shall
be ours; after which we will make him come to us, and we shall see him and have
the pleasure of hearing him and pass the time with him in joy.  Such a man must
not be neglected, we shall learn, by his generosity, bounty and useful things.
Ja'afar answered, To hear is obedience.  Then Ja'afar apportioned to the young
lady a spacious house and servants and a handsome enclosure; and he treated with
generosity those who had come with her as suite and followers.  He also sent to
her sets of furniture, mattresses and every thing else she might need, while he
never intruded upon her and never saw her.  He sent her his salutation and
reassuring words that she should be returned to her cousin; and he made her a
monthly allowance of a tousand dinars, besides the cost of her living.  So far
as to Ja'afar; but as to Attaf, when he had bidden adieu to Ja'afar and had
returned to his country, those who were jealous of him took steps to ruin him
with the Na\xEFb of Damascus, to whom they said, O our lord, what is it that hath
made thee neglect Attaf?  Dost thou not know that the Wazir was his friend and
that he went out after him to bid him adieu after our people had returned, and
accompanied him as far as Katifa, when Ja'afar said to him, Hast thou need of
anything O Attaf? he said Yes.  Of what? asked the Wazir, and he answered, That
thou send me an imperial rescript removing the Na\xEFb of Damascus.  Now this was
promised to him, and the most prudent thing is that thou invite him to breakfast
before he takes you to supper; success is in the opportunity and the assaulted
profiteth by the assaulter.  The Na\xEFb of Damascus replied, Thou has spoken well,
bring him to me immediately.  The Na\xEFb of Damascus replied, Thou hast spoken
well, bring him to me immediately.  The Rawi says that Attaf was in his own
house, ignorant that anyone owed him grudge, when suddenly in the night he was
surrounded and seized by the people of the Na\xEFb of Damascus armed with swords and
clubs.  They beat him until he was covered with blood, and they dragged him along
until they set him in presence of the Pasha of Damascus who ordered the pillage
of his house and of his slaves and his servants and all his property and they
took everything, his family and his domestics and his goods.  Attaf asked, What
is my crime? and he answered, O scoundrel, thou art an ignorant fellow of the
rabble, dost dispute with the Na\xEFbat of Damascus?  Then the Swordman was ordered
to strike his neck, and the man came forward and, cutting off a piece of his
robe, with it blindfolded his eyes, and was about to strike his neck when one of
the Em\xEDrs arose and said, Be not hasty, O my lord, but wait, for haste is the
whisper of Satan, and the proverb saith: Man gaineth his ends by patience, and
error accompanieth the hasty man.  Then he continued, Do not press the matter of
this man; perhaps he who hath spoken of him lieth and there is nobody without
jealousy; so have patience, for thou mayest have to regret the taking of his life
unjustly.  Do not rest easy upon what may come to thee on the part of the Wazir
Ja'afar, and if he learn what thou hast done by this man be not sure of thy life
on his part.  He will admit of no excuse for he was his friend and companion.
When the Na\xEFb of Damascus heard that he awoke from his slumber and conformed to
the words of the Emir.  He ordered that Attaf should be put in prison, enchained
and with a padlock upon his neck, and bade them, after severely tightening the
bonds, illtreat him.  They dragged him out, listening neither to his prayers nor
his supplications; and he cried every night, doing penance to God and praying to
Him for deliverance from his affliction and his misfortune.  In that condition
he remained for three months.  But one night as he woke up he humiliated himself
before God and walked about his prison, where he saw no one; then, looking before
him, he espied an opening leading from the prison to the outside of the city.
He tried himself against his chain and succeeded in opening it; then, taking it
from his neck, he went out from the gaol running at full speed.  He concealed
himself in a place, and darkness protected him until the opening of the city
gate, when he went out with the people and hastening his march he arrived at
Aleppo and entered the great mosk.  There he saw a crod of strangers on the point
of departure and Attaf asked them whither they were going, and they answered, To
Baghdad.  Whereupon he cried, And I with you.  They said, Upon the earth is our
weight, but upon Allah is our nourishment.  Then they went on their march until
they arrived at Koufa after a travel of twenty days, and then continued
journeying till they came to Baghdad.  Here Attaf saw a city of strong buildings,
and very rich in elegant palaces reaching to the clouds, a city containing the
learned and the ignorant, and the poor and the rich, and the virtuous and the
evil doer.  He entered the city in a miserable dress, rags upon his shoulders,
and upon his head a dirty, conical cap, and his hair had become long and hanging
over his eyes and his entire condition was most wretched.  He entered one of the
mosks.  For two days he had not eaten.  He sat down, when a vagabond entered the
mosk and seating himself in front of Attaf threw off from his shoulder a bag from
which he took out bread and a chicken, and bread again and sweets and an orange,
and olive and date-cake and cucumbers.  Attaf looked at the man and at his
eating, which was as the table of 'Isa son of Miriam (upon whom be peace!).  For
four months he had not had a sufficient meal and he said to himself, I would like
to have a mouthful of this good cheer and a piece of this bread, and then cried
for very hunger.  The fellow looked at him and said, Bravo! why dost thou squint
and do what strangers do?  By the protection of God, if you weep tears enough to
fill the Jaxartes and the Bactrus and the Dajlah and the Euphrates and the river
of Basrah and the stream of Antioch and the Orontees and the Nile of Egypt and
the Salt Sea and the ebb and the flow of the Ocean, I will not let thee taste a
morsel.  But, said the buffoon, if thou wish to eat of chicken and white bread
and lamb and sweets and mutton patties, go thou to the house of Ja'afar son of
Yahya the Barmeky, who hath received hospitality from a Damascus man named Attaf.
He bestoweth charity in honour of him in this manner, and he neither getteth up
nor sitteth down without speaking of him.  Now when Attaf heard these words from
the buffoon he looked up to heaven and said, O Thou whose attributes are
inscrutable, bestow thy benefits upon thy servant Attaf.  Then he recited this

Confide thy affairs to thy Creator; set aside thy pains and dismiss thy thoughts.

Then Attaf went to a paper-seller and got from him a piece of paper and borrowed
an inkstand and wrote as follows:--From thy brother Attaf whom God knoweth.  Let
him who hath possessed the world not flatter himself, he will some day be cast
down and will lose it in his bitter fate.  If thou see me thou wilt not recognise
me for my poverty and my misery; and, because of the change in situation and the
reverses of the times, my soul and body are reduced by hunger, by the long
journey I have made, until at last I have come to thee.  And peace be with thee.
Then he folded the paper and returning the pencase to its owner asked for the
house of Ja'afar, and when it was shown to him he went there and stood at a
distance before it.  The doorkeepers saw him standing, neither commencing nor
repeating a word, and nobody spoke to him, but as he was thus standing
embarassed, an eunuch dressed in a striped robe and golden belt passed by him.
Attaf remained, motionless before him, then went up to him, kissed his hands and
said to him, O my lord, the Apostle of Allah (upon whom be peace and salutation)
hath said, The medium of a good deed is like him who did it, and he who did it
belongeth to the dwellers in heaven.  The man said to him, What is thy need? and
said he, I desire of thy goodness to send in this paper to thy lord and say to
him, Thy brother Attaf is standing at the door.  When the servant heard his words
he got into a great and excessive rage so that his eyes swelled in his head and
he asked, O cursed one, thou art then the brother of the Wazir Ja'afar! and as
he had in his hand a rod with a golden end, he struck Attaf with it in the face
and his blood flowed and he fell full length to the ground in his weakness from
weeping and from receiving the blow.  The Rawi says that God hath placed the
instinct of good in the heart of some domestics, even as he hath placed that of
evil in the heart of others.  Another of the domestics was raised up against his
companion by good will to Attaf and reproved him for striking the stranger and
was answered, Didst thou not hear, O brother, that he pretended to be the brother
of the Wazir Ja'afar? and the second one said, O man of evil, son of evil, slave
of evil, O cursed one, O hog! is Ja'afar one of the prophets? is he not a dog of
the earth like ourselves?  Men are all brethren, of one father and one mother,
of Adam and of Eve; and the poet hath said:--

Men by comparison all are brethren, their father is Adam their mother is Eve;

but certain people are preferable to others.  Then he came up to Attaf and made
him be seated and wiped off the blood from his face and washed him and shook off
the dust that was upon him and said, O my brother, what is thy need? and said he,
My need is the sending of this paper to Ja'afar.  The servant took the paper from
his hand and going in to Ja'afar the Barmeky found there the officers of the
Governor and the Barmekys standing at his service on his right and on his left;
and Ja'afar the Wazir who held in his hand a cup of wine was reciting poetry and
playing and saying, O you all here assembled, the absent from the eye is not like
the present in the heart; he is my brother and my friend and my benefactor, Attaf
of Damascus, who was continuous in his generosity and his bounty and his
benfactions to me; who for me divorced his cousin-wife and gave her to me.  He
made me presents of horses and slaves and damsels and stuffs in quantities that
I might furnish her dower; and, if he had not acted thus, I should certainly have
been ruined.  He was my benefactor without knowing who I was, and generous to me
without any idea of profiting by it.  The Rawi says that when the good servant
heard these words from his lord he rejoiced and coming forward he kneeled down
before him and presented the paper.  When Ja'afar read it he was in a state of
intoxication and not being able to discern what he was doing he fell on his face
to the floor while holding the paper and the glass in his hand, and he was
wounded in the forehead so his blood ran and he fainted and the paper fell from
his grasp.  When the servant saw that he hastened to depart fearing the
consequence; and the Wazir Ja'afar's friends seated their lord and staunched the
blood.  They exclaimed, There is no power and strength but in God the High, the
Mighty.  Such is the character of servants; they trouble the life of kings in
their pleasures and annoy them in their humours: Wallahy, the writer of this
paper merits nothing less than to be handed over to the Wali who shall give him
five hundred lashes and put him in prison.  Thereupon the Wazir's doorkeeper went
out and asked for the owner of the paper, when Attaf answered, 'Tis I, O my lord.
Then they seized him and sent him to the Wali and ordered him to give one hundred
blows of the stick to the prisoner and to write upon his chain "for life."  Thus
they did with Attaf and carried him to the prison where he remained for two
months when a child was born to Harun er-Rashid, who then ordered that alms
should be distributed, and good done to all, and bade liberate all that were in
prison and among those that were set free was Attaf.  When he found himself out
of gaol, beaten and famished and naked, he looked up to heaven and exclaimed,
Thanks be to thee, O Lord, in every situation, and crying said, It must be for
some fault committed by me in the past, for God had taken me into favour and I
have said repaid Him in disobedience; but I pray to Him for pardon for having
gone too far in my debauchery.  Then he recited these verses:--

O God! the worshipper doth what he should not do; he is poor, depending on Thee:
In the pleasures of life he forgetteth himself, in his ignorance, pardon Thou his

Then he cried again and said to himself, What shall I do?  If I set out for my
country I may not reach it; if I arrive there, there will be no safety for my
life on teh part of the Na\xEFb, and if I remain here nobody knoweth me among the
beggars and I cannot be for them of any use nor for myself as an aid or an
intermediate.  As for me, I had hope in that man, that he would raise me from my
poverty.  The affair hath turned out contrary to my expectations, and the poet
was right when he said:--

O friend, I've run o'er the world west and east; all that I met with was pain
     and fatigue:
I've frequented the men of the age, but never have found e'en a friend grateful
     not even to me.

Once more he cried and exclaimed, God give me the grace of patience.  After that
he got up and walked away, and entered one of the mosks and staid there until
afternoon.  His hunger increased and he said, By Thy magnanimity and Thy majesty
I shall ask nothing of anyone but of Thee.  He remained in the mosk until it
became dark when he went out for something, saying to himself, I have heard a
call from the Prophet (on whom be the blessing and peace of Allah!) which said,
God forbiddeth sleep in the Sanctuary and forbiddeth it to His worshippers.  Then
he arose, and went out from the mosk to some distance when he entered a ruined
building after walking an hour, and here he stumbled in the darkness and fell
upon his face.  He saw something before him that he had struck with his foot and
felt it move, and this was a lad that had been slain and a knife was in his side.
Attaf rose up from off the body, his clothes stained with blood; he stood
motionless and embarrassed, and while in that situation the Wali and his
policemen stood at the door of the ruin and Attaf said to them, Come in and
search.  They entered with their torches and found the body of the murdered lad
and the knife in him and the miserable Attaf standing at the head with his
clothes stained with blood.  When a man with a scarf saw him he arrested him and
said to him, O Wretch, 'tis thou killedst him.  Attaf said, Yes.  Then said the
Wali, Pinion him and take him to prison until we make our report to the Wazir
Ja'afar.  If he orders his death we will execute him.  They did as ordered, and
the next day the man with the scarf wrote to the Wazir, We went into a ruin and
found there a man who had killed a lad and we interrogated him and he confessed
that it was he who had done the deed, what are thine orders?  The Wazir commanded
them to put him to death; so they took Attaf from the prison to the place of
execution and cut off a piece of his garment and with it bandaged his eyes.  The
Sworder said, O my lord, shall I strike his neck? and the Wali said, Strike!  He
brandished the sword which whistled and glittered in the air and was about to
strike, when a cry from behind, Stop thy hand! was heard, and it was the voice
of the Wazir Ja'afar who was out on a promenade.  The Wali went to him and kissed
the earth before him and the Wazir said to him, What is this great gathering
here?  He answered, 'Tis the execution of a young man of Damascus whom we found
yesterday in a ruin; he had killed a lad of noble blood and we found the knife
with him and his clothes spotted with blood.  When I said to him, Is it thou that
killedst him? he replied Yes three times.  To-day I sent to thee my written
report and thine Excellency ordered his death, saying, Let the sentence of God
be executed, and now I have brought him out that his neck may be struck.  Ja'afar
said, Oh, hath a man of Damascus come into our country to find himself in a bad
condition?  Wallahy, that shall never be!  Then he ordered that he should be
brought to him.  The Wazir did not recognise him, for Attaf's air of ease and
comfort had disappeared; so Ja'afar said to him, From what country art thou, O
young man, and he answered, I am a man from Damascus.  From the city or from the
villages?  Wallahy, O my lord, from Damascus city where I was born.  Ja'afar
asked, Didst thou happen to known there a man named Attaf?  I know when thou wast
his friend and he lodged thee in such-and-such a house and thou wentest out to
such-and-such a garden; and I know when thou didst marry his cousin-wife, I know
when he bade adieu to thee at Katifa where thou drankest with him.  Ja'afar said,
Yes, all that is true, but what became of him after he left me?  He said, O my
Lord, there happened to him this and that and he related to him everything from
the time he quitted him up to the moment of his standing before him and then
recited these verses:--

This age, must it make me its victim, and thou at the same time art living:
     wolves are seeking to devour me while thou the lion art here.
Every thirsty one that cometh his thirst is quenched by thee: can it be that I
     thirst while thou art still our refuge?

When he had finished the verses he said, O my lord, I am Attaf, and then recalled
all that had taken place between them from first to last.  While he was thus
speaking a great cry was heard, and it came from a Sheikh who was saying, This
is not humanity.  They looked at the speaker, who was an old man with trimmed
beard dyed with henna, and upon him was a blue kerchief.  When Ja'afar saw him
he asked him what was the matter, and he exclaimed, Take away the young man from
under the sword, for there is no fault in him: he hath killed no one nor doth he
know anything of the dead youth.  Nobody but myself is the killer.  The Wazir
said, Then 'tis thou that killed him? and he answered.  Yes.--Why didst thou kill
him? hast thou not the fear of God in killing a Hashimy child?  The old man said,
He was my servant, serving me in the house and working with me at my trade.
Every day he took from me some quarter-pieces of money and went to work for
another man called Shumooshag, and to work with Nag\xEDsh, and with Gas\xEDs, and with
Gh\xFAbar, and with Gush\xEDr, and every day working with someone.  They were jealous
of my having him.  'Odis the sweeper and Abu Butr\xE1n the stoker, and everyone
wanted to have him.  In vain I corrected him, but he would not abide corrected
and ceased not to do thus until I killed him in the ruin, and I have delivered
myself from the torment he gave me.  That is my story.  I kept silent until I saw
thee when I made myself known at the time thou savest the head of this young man
from the sword.  Here I am standing before you: strike my neck and take life for
life.  Pray do no harm to this young man, for he hath committed no fault.  The
Wazir said, Neither to thee nor to him.  Then he ordered to be brought the
parents of the dead lad and reconciled them with the old man, whom he pardoned.
He mounted Attaf upon a horse and took him to his house; then he entered the
palace of the Caliph and kissed the earth before him and said, Behold Attaf, he
who was my host at Damascus, and of whom I have related his treatment of me and
his kindness and generosity, and how he preferred me to himself.  Er-Rashid said,
Bring him in to me immediately.  He presented him to the Caliph in the miserable
state in which he had found him; and when he entered, he made his salutations in
the best manner and with the most eloquent language.  Er-Rashid answered and said
to him, What is this state in which I find you? and Attaf wept and made his
complaint in these verses:--

Troubles, poverty and distant sojourn far away from the dear ones, and a
     crushing desire to see them:
The soul is in them, they became like their fellows, thus the enigma remains in
     the world;
While the generous is stricken with misfortune and grief, where's the miser that
     finds not good fortune therein?

When Attaf had finished he conversed with the Caliph about his history and all
his life from beginning to end; and Er-Rashid cried and suffered at what had
happened to him after the loss of his riches, nor did he cease to weep with
Ja'afar until the close of Attaf's story.  The Sheikh who had killed the lad and
had been liberated by Ja'afar came in and Er-Rashid laughed at seeing him.  Then
he caused Attaf to be seated and made him repeat his story.  And when Attaf had
finished speaking the Caliph looked at Ja'afar and said, The proverb goeth:--

Good for good, to the giver the merit remains; evil for evil, the doer's most

Afterwards the Caliph said to Ja'afar, Tell me what thou didst for thy brother
Attaf before he came to thee, and he answered, O Commander of the Faithful, he
came upon me suddenly, and I now prepare for him three millions of gold, and the
like of it in horses, and in slaves, and in boys, and in dresses; and the Caliph
said, From me the same.  Here endeth the last leaf of the writ, but the Wari says
that two days afterwards Ja'afar restored to his friend Attaf his beloved
cousin-wife, saying to him, I have divorced her and now I deliver over to thee
intact the precious deposit that thou didst place in my hands.  Already hath the
order from the Caliph been despatched to Damascus enjoining the arrest of the
Na\xEFb, to place him in irons and imprison him until further notice.  Attaf passed
several months in Baghdad enjoying the pleasures of the city in company with his
friend Ja'afar and Er-Rashid.  He would have liked to have stayed there all his
life, but numerous letters from his relations and his friends praying him to
return to Damascus, he thought it his duty to do so, and asked leave of the
Caliph, who granted it, not without regrets and fears for his future condition.
Er-Rashid appointed him Wali of Damascus and gave him the imperial rescript; and
a great escort of horses, mules and dromedaries, with abundant magnificent
presents accompanied him as far as Damascus, where he was received with great
pomp.  All the city was illuminated as a mark of joy for the return of Attaf, so
loved and respected by all classes of the people, and above all by the poor who
had wept incessantly for him in his absence.  As to the Na\xEFb, a second decree of
the Caliph ordered his being put to death for his oppression of the people, but
by the generous intercession of Attaf Er-Rashid contented himself with commuting
the sentence to banishment.  Attaf governed his people many years with justice
and prosperity, protector of his happy subjects and in the enjoyment of the
delights and pleasures of life, until the Angel of Death overtook him and
summoned him to Paradise.

                    HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB

                  AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH THE

                    LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.

Here we begin to indite the history of Sultan Habib and of what
befel him with Durrat al-Ghawwas.[FN#378]

It is related (but Allah is All-knowing of His unknown and All-
cognisant of what took place and forewent in the annals of folk!)
that there was, in days of yore and in times and tides long gone
before, a tribe of the tribes of the Arabs hight Ban\xFA Hil\xE1l[FN#379]
whose head men were the Emir Hil\xE1l and the Emir Sal\xE1mah.[FN#380]
Now this Emir Salamah had well nigh told out his tale of days
without having been blessed with boon of child; withal he was a
ruler valiant, masterful, a fender of his foes and a noble knight
of portly presence. He numbered by the thousand horsemen the
notablest of cavaliers and he came to overrule three-score-and-six
tribes of the Arabs. One chance night of the nights as he lay
sleeping in the sweetness of slumber, a Voice addressed him saying,
"Rise forthright and know thy wife, whereby she shall conceive
under command of Allah Almighty." Being thus disturbed of his rest
the Emir sprang up and compressed his spouse Kamar
al-Ashr\xE1f;[FN#381] she became pregnant by that embrace and when her
days came to an end she bare a boy as the full moon of the
fulness-night who by his father's hest was named Hab\xEDb.[FN#382] And
as time went on his sire rejoiced in him with joy exceeding and
reared him with fairest rearing and bade them teach him
Koran-reading together with the glorious names of Almighty Allah
and instruct him in writing and in all the arts and sciences. After
this he bestowed robes of honour and gifts of money and raiment
upon the teachers who had made the Sultan[FN#383] Habib, when he
reached the age of seventeen, the most intelligent and penetrating
and knowing amongst the sons of his time. And indeed men used to
admire at the largeness of his understanding and were wont to say
in themselves, "There is no help but that this youth shall rise to
dignity (and what dignity!) whereof men of highmost intellect shall
make loud mention." For he could write the seven caligraphs[FN#384]
and he could recite traditions and he could improvise poetry; and,
on one occasion when his father bade him versify impromptu, that he
might see what might come thereof, he intoned,

"O my sire, I am lord of all lere man knows or knew-- * Have
     enformed my vitals with lore and with legend true;
Nor cease I repeat what knowledge this memory guards * And my writ
     as ruby and pearl doth appear to view."

So the Emir Salamah his sire marvelled at the elegance of his son's
diction; and the Notables of the clan, after hearing his poetry and
his prose, stood astounded at their excellence; and presently the
father clasped his child to his breast and forthright summoned his
governor, to whom there and then he did honour of the highmost.
Moreover he largessed him with four camels carrying loads of gold
and silver and he set him over one of his subject tribes of the
Arabs; then said he to him, "Indeed thou hast done well, O Shaykh;
so take this good and fare therewith to such a tribe and rule it
with justice and equity until the day of thy death." Replied the
governor, "O King of the Age, I may on no wise accept thy boons,
for that I am not of mankind but of Jinn-kind; nor have I need of
money or requirement of rule. Know thou, O my lord, that erst I sat
as K\xE1zi amongst the Jinns and I was enthroned amid the Kings of the
J\xE1nn, whenas one night of the nights a Voice[FN#385] addressed me
in my sleep saying, 'Rise and hie thee to the Sultan Habib son of
the Emir Salamah ruler of the tribes of the Arabs subject to the
Banu Hilal and become his tutor and teach him all things teachable;
and, if thou gainsay going, I will tear thy soul from thy body.'
Now when I saw this marvel-vision in my sleep, I straightway arose
and repairing to thy son did as I was bidden."[FN#386] But as the
Emir Salamah heard the words of this Shaykh he bowed him down and
kissing his feet cried, "Alhamdolillah--laud to the Lord, who hath
vouchsafed thee to us of His bounty; and indeed thy coming to us
was of good omen, O Judge of the Jann." "Where is thy son?" quoth
the governor, and quoth the father, "Ready, aye ready;" then he
summoned his child and when the Shaykh looked upon his pupil he
wept with sore weeping and cried, "Parting from thee, O Habib, is
heavy upon us," presently adding, "Ah! were ye to wot all that
shall soon befal this youth after my departure and when afar from
me!"[FN#387] Those present in the assembly at once asked saying,

"And what shall, O Shaykh, to us fall forthright?" * Quoth he,
     "Sore marvels shall meet your sight:
No heart have I to describe it you." * Then approached Habib the
     same tutor-wight;
And clasping the youth to the breast of him, * Kissed his cheek a-
     shrieking the shrillest shright.[FN#388]

Whereupon all about them were perturbed and were amated and amazed
at the action of the Shaykh when, vanishing from their view, he
could nowhere be seen. Then the Emir Salamah addressed the lieges
saying, "Ho ye Arabs, who wotteth what presently shall betide my
son? would Heaven I had one to advise him!" Hereupon said his
Elders and Councillors, "We know of none." But the Sultan Habib
brooded over the disappearance of his governor and bespake his sire
weeping bitter tears the while, "O my father, where be he who
brought me up and enformed me with all manner knowledge?" and the
Emir replied, "O my son, one day of the days he farewelled us and
crying out with a loud cry evanished from our view and we have seen
him no more." Thereupon the youth improvised and said,

"Indeed I am scourged by those ills whereof I felt affray, ah! * By
     parting and thoughts which oft compell\xE8d my soul to say, 'Ah!'
Oh saddest regret in vitals of me that ne'er ceaseth, nor * Shall
     minished be his love that still on my heart doth prey, ah!
Where hath hied the generous soul my mind with lere adorned? * And
     alas! what hath happened, O sire, to me, and well-away, ah!"

Hereat the Emir Salamah shed tears (as on like wise did all
present) and quoth he to his son, "O Habib, we have been troubled
by his action," and quoth the youth, "How shall I endure severance
from one who fostered me and brought me to honour and renown and
who raised my degree so high?" Then began he to improvise saying,

"Indeed this pine in my heart grows high, * And in eyeballs wake
     doth my sleep outvie:
You marched, O my lords, and from me hied far * And you left a
     lover shall aye outcry:
I wot not where on this earth you be * And how long this patience
     when none is nigh:
Ye fared and my eyeballs your absence weep, * And my frame is
     meagre, my heart is dry."

Now whilst the Emir Salamah was sitting in his seat of dignity and
the Sultan Habib was improvising poetry and shedding tears in
presence of his sire, they heard a Voice which announced itself and
its sound was audible whilst its personality was invisible.
Thereupon the youth shed tears and cried, "O father mine, I need
one who shall teach me horsemanship and the accidents of edge and
point and onset and offset and spearing and spurring in the Mayd\xE1n;
for my heart loveth knightly derring-do to plan, such as riding in
van and encountering the horseman and the valiant man." And the
while they were in such converse behold, there appeared before them
a personage rounded of head, long of length and dread, with turband
wide dispread, and his breadth of breast was armoured with doubled
coat of mail whose manifold rings were close-enmeshed after the
model of D\xE1\xFAd[FN#389] the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!).
Moreover he hent in hand a mace erst a block cut out of the live
hard rock, whose shock would arrest forty braves of the doughtiest;
and he was baldrick'd with an Indian blade that quivered in the
grasp, and he bestrode, with a Samhari[FN#390] lance at rest, a bay
destrier of black points whose peer was not amongst the steeds of
the Arabs. Then he took his station standing as a vassal between
the Emir Salamah's hands and he addressed a general salam and he
greeted all that stood a-foot or were seated. His salute they
repealed and presently the pages hastened forwards and aided him
alight from his charger's back; and after waiting for a full-told
hour that he might take somewhat of repose, the stranger-knight and
doughty wight advanced and said, "Ho thou the Emir, I came hither
to fulfil the want whereof thou expressedst a wish; and, if such
prove thy pleasure, I will teach thy son fray and fight and prowess
in the plain of sword-stroke and lance-lunge. But ere so doing I
would fain test thy skill in cavalarice; so do thou, O Emir, be
first to appear as champion and single combatant in the field when
I will show thee what horsemanship is." "Hearkening and obeying,"
replied the Emir, "and if thou desire the duello with us we will
not baulk thee thereof." Hereat his Shaykhs and Chieftains sprang
up and cried to him, "O Emir, Allah upon thee, do not meet in fight
this cavalier for that thou wottest not an he be of mankind or of
Jinn-kind; so be thou not deceived by his sleights and snares."
"Suffer me this day," quoth the Emir, "to see the cavalarice of
this cavalier, and, if over me he prevail, know him to be a knight
with whom none may avail." Speaking thus the Emir arose and hied
him to his tent where he bade the slaves bring forth the best of
his habergeons; and, when all these were set before him, he took
from them a Davidian suit of manifold rings and close-meshed, which
he donned, and he baldrick'd himself with a scymitar of Hindi
steel, hadst thou smitten therewith a cliff it had cleft it in
twain or hadst thou stricken a hill it had been laid level as a
plain; and he hent in hand a Rudayn\xEDan lance[FN#391] of Khatt
Hajar, whose length was thirty ells and upon whose head sat a point
like unto a basilisk's tongue; and lastly he bade his slaves bring
him his courser which in the race was the fleetest-footed of all
horses. Then the two combatants took the plain accompanied by the
tribesmen nor did one of them all, or great or small, remain in
camp for desire to witness the fight of these champions who were
both as ravening lions. But first the stranger-knight addressed his
adversary and speaking with free and eloquent tongue quoth he, "I
will encounter thee, O Emir Salamah, with the encountering of the
valiant; so have thou a heed of me for I am he hath overthrown the
Champions some and all." At these words each engaged his foeman and
the twain forwards pressed for a long time, and the Raven of
cut-and-thrust croaked over the field of fight and they exchanged
strokes with the Hindi scymitar and they thrust and foined with the
Khatti spear and more than one blade and limber lance was shivered
and splintered, all the tribesmen looking on the while at both. And
they ceased not to attack and retire and to draw near and draw off
and to heave and fence until their forearms ailed and their
endeavour failed. Already there appeared in the Emir Salamah
somewhat of weakness and weariness; natheless when he looked upon
his adversary's skill in the tourney and encounter of braves he saw
how to meet all the foeman's sword-strokes with his targe: however
at last fatigue and loss of strength prevailed over him and he knew
that he had no longer the force to fight; so he stinted his
endeavour and withdrew from brunt of battle. Hereat the stranger-
knight alighted and falling at the Emir's feet kissed them and
cried, "O Sovran of the Age, I came not hither to war with thee but
rather with the design of teaching thy son, the Sultan Habib, the
complete art of arms and make him the prow cavalier of his day."
Replied Salamah, "In very sooth, O horseman of the age, thou hast
spoken right fairly in thy speech; nor did I design with thee to
fight nor devised I the duello or from steed to alight;[FN#392]
nay, my sole object was my son to incite that he might learn battle
and combat aright, and the charge of the heroic Himyarite[FN#393]
to meet with might." Then the twain dismounted and each kissed his
adversary; after which they returned to the tribal camp and the
Emir bade decorate it and all the habitations of the Arab clans
with choicest decoration, and they slaughtered the victims and
spread the banquets and throughout that day the tribesmen ate and
drank and fed the travellers and every wayfarer and the mean and
mesquin and all the miserables. Now as soon as the Sultan Habib was
informed concerning that cavalier how he had foiled his father in
the field of fight, he repaired to him and said, "Peace be with him
who came longing for us and designing our society! Who art thou, Ho
thou the valorous knight and foiler of foemen in fight?" Said the
other, "Learn thou, O Habib, that Allah hath sent me theewards."
"And, say me, what may be thy name?" "I am hight Al-'Abb\xFAs,[FN#394]
the Knight of the Grim Face." "I see thee only smiling of
countenance whilst thy name clean contradicteth thy nature;" quoth
the youth. Presently the Emir Salamah committed his son to the new
governor saying, "I would thou make me this youth the Brave of his
epoch;" whereto the knight replied, "To hear is to obey, first
Allah then thyself and to do suit and service of thy son Habib."
And when this was determined youth and governor went forth to the
Maydan every day and after a while of delay Habib became the best
man of his age in fight and fray. Seeing this his teacher addressed
him as follows. "Learn, O Sultan Habib, that there is no help but
thou witness perils and affrights and adventures, wherefor is weak
the description of describers and thou shalt say in thyself, 'Would
heaven I had never sighted such and I were of these same free.' And
thou shalt fall into every hardship and horror until thou be united
with the beautiful Durrat al-Ghaww\xE1s, Queen-regnant over the Isles
of the Sea. Meanwhile to affront all the perils of the path thou
shalt fare forth from thy folk and bid adieu to thy tribe and
patrial stead; and, after enduring that which amateth man's wit,
thou shalt win union with the daughter of Queen Kamar
al-Zam\xE1n."[FN#395] But when Habib heard these words concerning the
"Pearl of the Diver" his wits were wildered and his senses were
agitated and he cried to Al-Abb\xFAs, "I conjure thee by Allah say me,
is this damsel of mankind or of Jinn-kind." Quoth the other, "Of
Jinn-kind, and she hath two Wazirs, one of either race, who
overrule all her rulers, and a thousand islands of the Isles of the
Sea are subject to her command, while a host of Sayyids and
Shar\xEDfs[FN#396] and Grandees hath flocked to woo her, bringing
wealthy gifts and noble presents, yet hath not any of them won his
wish of her but all returned baffled and baulked of their will."
Now the Sultan Habib hearing this from him cried in excess of
perturbation and stress of confusion, "Up with us and hie we home
where we may take seat and talk over such troublous matter and
debate anent its past and its future." "Hearkening and obedience,"
rejoined the other; so the twain retired into privacy in order to
converse at ease concerning the Princess, and Al-Abbus began to
relate in these words--

The History of Durrat al-Ghawwas.

Whilome there was a Sovran amongst the Kings of the Sea, hight
S\xE1b\xFAr, who reigned over the Crystalline Isles,[FN#397] and he was
a mighty ruler and a generous, and a masterful potentate and a
glorious. He loved women and he was at trouble to seek out the
fairest damsels; yet many of his years had gone by nor yet had he
been blessed with boon of boy. So one day of the days he took
thought and said in himself, "To this length of years I have
attained and am well nigh at life's end and still am I childless:
what then will be my case?" Presently, as he sat upon his throne of
kingship, he saw enter to him an Ifrit fair of face and form, the
which was none other than King 'Atr\xFAs[FN#398] of the J\xE1nn, who
cried, "The Peace be upon thee, Ho thou the King! and know that I
have come to thee from my liege lord who affecteth thee. In my
sleep it befel that I heard a Voice crying to me, 'During all the
King's days never hath he been vouchsafed a child, boy or girl; so
now let him accept my command and he shall win to his wish. Let him
distribute justice and largesse and further the rights of the
wronged and bid men to good and forbid them from evil and lend not
aid to tyranny or to innovation in the realm and persecute not the
unfortunate, and release from gaol all the prisoners he retaineth.'
At these words of the Voice I awoke astartled by my vision and I
hastened to thee without delay and I come with design to inform
thee, O King of the Age, that I have a daughter, hight Kamar al-
Zaman, who hath none like her in her time, and no peer in this
tide, and her I design giving thee to bride. The Kings of the Jann
have ofttimes asked her in marriage of me but I would have none of
them save a ruler of men like thyself and Alhamdolillah--glory be
to God, who caused thy Highness occur to my thought, for that thy
fame in the world is goodly fair and thy works make for
righteousness. And haply by the blessing of these thou shalt beget
upon my daughter a man child, a pious heir and a virtuous." Replied
the King, "Ho thou who comest to us and desirest our weal, I accept
thine offer with love and good will." Then Sabur, the King of the
Crystalline Isles, bade summon the Kazi and witnesses, and quoth
the Ifrit, "I agree to what thou sayest, and whatso thou proposest
that will I not oppose." So they determined upon the dowry and
bound him by the bond of marriage with the daughter of Al-'Atrus,
King of the Jinns, who at once sent one of his Flying Jann to bring
the bride. She arrived forthright when they dressed and adorned her
with all manner ornaments, and she came forth surpassing all the
maidens of her era. And when King Sabur went in unto her he found
her a clean maid: so he lay that night with her and Almighty Allah
so willed that she conceived of him. When her days and months of
pregnancy were sped, she was delivered of a girl-babe as the moon,
whom they committed to wet-nurses and dry-nurses, and when she had
reached her tenth year, they set over her duennas who taught her
Koran-reading and writing and learning and belles-lettres; brief,
they brought her up after the fairest of fashions. Such was the
lot[FN#399] of Durrat al-Ghawwas, the child of Kamar al-Zaman,
daughter to King 'Atrus by her husband King Sabur. But as regards
the Sultan Habib and his governor Al-Abbus, the twain ceased not
wandering from place to place in search of the promised damsel
until one day of the days when the youth entered his father's
garden and strolled the walks adown amid the borders[FN#400] and
blossoms of basil and of rose full blown and solaced himself with
the works of the Compassionate One and enjoyed the scents and
savours of the flowers there bestrown; and, while thus employed,
behold, he suddenly espied the maiden, Durrat al-Ghawwas hight,
entering therein as she were the moon; and naught could be lovelier
than she of all earth supplies, gracious as a Huriyah of the
Virgins of Paradise, to whose praise no praiser could avail on any
wise. But when the Sultan Habib cast upon her his eyes he could no
longer master himself and his wits were bewildered from the
excitement of his thoughts; so he regarded her with a long fixed
look and said in himself, "I fear whenas she see me that she will
vanish from my sight." Accordingly, he retired and clomb the
branches of a tree in a stead where he could not be seen and whence
he could see her at his ease. But as regards the Princess, she
ceased not to roam about the Emir Salamah's garden until there
approached her two score of snow-white birds each accompanied by a
handmaid of moon-like beauty. Presently they settled upon the
ground and stood between her hands saying, "Peace be upon thee, O
our Queen and Sovran Lady." She replied, "No welcome to you and no
greeting; say me, what delayed you until this hour when ye know
that I am longing to meet the Sultan Habib, the dear one, son of
Salamah, and I long to visit him for that he is the dearling of my
heart. Wherefor I bade you accompany me and ye obeyed not, and
haply ye have made mock of me and of my commandment." "We never
gainsay thy behest," replied they, "or in word or in deed;" and
they fell to seeking her beloved. Hearing this the Sultan Habib's
heart was solaced and his mind was comforted and his thoughts were
rightly directed and his soul was reposed; and when he was
certified of her speech, he was minded to appear before her; but
suddenly fear of her prevailed over him and he said to his
thoughts, "Haply she will order one of the Jinns to do me die; so
'twere better to have patience and see what Allah shall purpose for
me of His Almighty will." But the Princess and her attendants
ceased not wandering about the garden from site to site and side to
side till they reached the place wherein the Sultan Habib lay in
lurking; when Durrat al-Ghawwas there stood still and said in
herself, "Now I came not from my capital save on his account, and
I would see and be seen by him even as the Voice informed me of
him, O ye handmaidens; and peradventure hath the same informed him
of me." Then the Princess and her suite, drawing still nearer to
his place of concealment, found a lakelet in the Arab's garden
brimful of water amiddlemost whereof stood a brazen lion, through
whose mouth the water entered to issue from his tail. Hereat the
Princess marvelled and said to her bondswomen, "This be none other
than a marvellous lake, together with the lion therein; and when,
by the goodwill of Almighty Allah, I shall have returned home, I
will let make a lakelet after this fashion, and in it set a lion of
brass." Thereupon she ordered them to doff their dress and go down
to the piece of water and swim about; but they replied, "O our
lady, to hear is to obey thy commandment, but we will not strip nor
swim save with thee." Then she also did off her dress and all
stripped themselves and entered the lakelet in a body, whereupon
the Sultan Habib looked through the leaves to solace himself with
the fair spectacle and he ejaculated, "Blessed be the Lord the best
of Creators!" And when the handmaids waxed aweary of swimming, the
Princess commanded them to come forth the water, and said, "Whenas
Heaven willeth that the desire of my heart be fulfilled in this
garden, what deem ye I should do with my lover?" and quoth they,
"'Twould only add to our pleasure and gladness." Quoth she, "Verily
my heart assureth me that he is here and hidden amongst the trees
of yon tangled brake;" and she made signs with her hand whither
Habib lay in lurking-place; and he, espying this, rejoiced with joy
galore than which naught could be more, and exclaimed, "There is no
Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the
Great; what meaneth this lady? Indeed, I fear to stay in this stead
lest she come hither and draw me forth and put me to shame; and
'twere better that of mine own accord I come out of my concealment
and accost her and suffer her to do all she designeth and
desireth." So he descended from the topmost of the tree wherein he
had taken refuge and presented himself before the Princess Durrat
Al-Ghawwas, who drew near and cried to him, "O Habib, O welcome to
Habib! and is it thus that we have travailed with love of thee and
longing for thee, and where hast thou been all this time, O my
dearling, and O coolth of my eyes and O slice of my liver?" Replied
he, "I was in the head of yonder huge tree to which thou pointedst
with thy finger." And as they looked each at other she drew nearer
to him and fell to improvising,

"Thou hast doomed me, O branchlet of B\xE1n, to despair * Who in
     worship and honour was wont to fare,--
Who lived in rule and folk slaved for me * And hosts girded me
     round every hest to bear!"

And anon quoth the Sultan Habib, "Alhamdolillah--laud be to the
Lord, who deigned show me thy face and thy form! Can it be thou
kennest not what it was that harmed me and sickened me for thy
sake, O Durrat al-Ghawwas?" Quoth she, "And what was it hurt thee
and ailed thee?" "It was the love of thee and longing for thee!"
"And who was the first to tell thee and make thee ware of me?" He
replied saying, "One day it so befel, as I was amongst my family
and my tribe, a Jinni Al-Abbus hight became my governor and taught
me the accidents of thrust and cut and cavalarice; and ere he left
he commended thy beauty and loveliness and foretold to me all that
would pass between thee and me. So I was engrossed with affection
for thee ere my eyes had sight of thee, and thenceforwards I lost
all the pleasures of sleep, nor were meat and eating sweet to me,
nor were drink and wine, draughts a delight to me: so
Alhamdolillah--praise be to Allah, who deigned conjoin me in such
union with my heart's desire!" Hereat the twain exchanged an
embrace so long that a swoon came upon them and both fell to the
ground in a fainting fit, but after a time the handmaidens raised
them up and besprinkled their faces with rose-water which at once
revived them. All this happened, withal the Emir Salamah wotted
naught of what had befallen his son the Sultan Habib nor did his
mother weet that had betided her child; and the husband presently
went in to his spouse and said, "Indeed this boy hath worn us out:
we see that o' nights he sleepeth not in his own place and this day
he fared forth with the dawn and suffered us not to see a sight of
him." Quoth the wife, "Since the day he went to Al-Abbus, thy boy
fell into cark and care;" and quoth the husband, "Verily our son
walked about the garden and Allah knoweth that therefrom is no
issue anywhither. So there shalt thou find him and ask him of
himself." And they talked over this matter in sore anger and
agitation. Meanwhile as the Sultan Habib sat in the garden with the
handmaids waiting upon him and upon the Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas,
there suddenly swooped upon them a huge bird which presently
changed form to a Shaykh seemly of aspect and semblance who
approached and kissing their feet humbled himself before the lover
and his beloved. The youth marvelled at such action of the Shaykh,
and signalled to the Princess as to ask, "Who may be this old man?"
and she answered in the same way, "This is the Wazir who caused me
forgather with thee;" presently adding to the Shaykh, "What may be
thy need?" "I came hither for the sake of thee," he replied, "and
unless thou fare forthright to thy country and kingdom the rule of
the J\xE1nn will pass from thy hand; for that the Lords of the land
and Grandees of the realm seek thy loss and not a few of the nobles
have asked me saying, O Wazir, where is our Queen? I answered, She
is within her palace and to-day she is busied with some business.
But such pretext cannot long avail, and thou, unless thou return
with me to the region of thy reign there shall betray thee some one
of the Marids and the hosts will revolt against thee and thy rule
will go to ruin and thou wilt be degraded from command and
sultanate." "What then is thy say and what thy bidding?" enquired
she, and he replied, "Thou hast none other way save departure from
this place and return to thy realm." Now when these words reached
the ear of Durrat al-Ghawwas, her breast was straitened and she
waxed sorrowful with exceeding sorrow for severance from her lover
whom she addressed in these words, "What sayest thou anent that
thou hast heard? In very sooth I desire not parting from thee and
the ruin of my reign as little do I design; so come with me, O
dearling of my heart, and I will make thee liege lord over the
Isles of the Sea and sole master thereof." Hereat the Sultan Habib
said in his soul, "I cannot endure parting from my own people; but
as for thee thy love shall never depart from thee:" then he spake
aloud, "An thou deign hear me, do thou abandon that which thou
purposest and bid thy Wazir rule over the Isles and thy patrial
stead; so shall we twain, I and thou, live in privacy for all time
and enjoy the most joyous of lives." "That may never be," was her
only reply; after which she cried to the Wazir saying, "Carry me
off that I fare to my own land." Then after farewelling her lover,
she mounted the Emir-Wazir's back[FN#401] and bade him bear her
away, whereat he took flight and the forty handmaidens flew with
him, towering high in air. Presently, the Sultan Habib shed bitter
tears; his mother hearing him weeping sore as he sat in the garden
went to her husband and said, "Knowest thou not what calamity hath
befallen thy son that I hear him there groaning and moaning"" Now
when the parents entered the garden, they found him spent with
grief and the tears trickled adown his cheeks like never-ceasing
rain-showers;[FN#402] so they summoned the pages who brought
cucurbits of rosewater wherewith they besprinkled his face. But as
soon as he recovered his senses and opened his eyes, he fell to
weeping with excessive weeping and his father and mother likewise
shed tears for the burning of their hearts and asked him, "O Habib,
what calamity hath come down to thee and who of his mischief hath
overthrown thee? Inform us of the truth of thy case." So he related
all that had betided between him and Durrat-al-Ghawwas, and his
mother wept over him while his father cried, "O Habib, do thou
leave this say and this thy desire cast away that the joys of meat
and drink and sleep thou may enjoy alway." But he made answer, "O
my sire, I will not slumber upon this matter until I shall sleep
the sleep of death." "Arise thou, O my child," rejoined the Emir,
"and let us return homewards,"[FN#403] but the son retorted,
"Verily I will not depart from this place wherein I was parted from
the dearling of my heart." So the sire again urged him saying,
"These words do thou spare nor persist in this affair because
therefrom for thee I fear;" and he fell to cheering him and
comforting his spirits. After a while the Sultan Habib arose and
fared homewards beside his sire who kept saying to him, "Patience,
O my child, the while I assist thee in thy search for this young
lady and I send those who shall bring her to thee." "O my father,"
rejoined the son, "I can no longer endure parting from her; nay,
'tis my desire that thou load me sundry camels with gold and silver
and plunder and moneys that I may go forth to seek her: and if I
win to my wish and Allah vouchsafe me length of life I will return
unto you; but an the term of my days be at hand then the behest be
to Allah, the One, the Omnipotent. Let not your breasts be
straitened therefor and do ye hold and believe that if I abide with
you and see not the beloved of my soul I shall perish of my pain
while you be standing by to look upon my death. So suffer me to
wayfare and attain mine aim; for from the day when my mother bare
me 'twas written to my lot that I journey over wild and wold and
that I see and voyage over the seas seven-fold." Hereupon he fell
to improvising these verses,

"My heart is straitened with grief amain * And my friends and
     familiars have wrought me pain;
And whene'er you're absent I pine, and fires * In my heart beweep
     what it bears of bane:
O ye, who fare for the tribe's domain, * Cry aloud my greetings to
     friends so fain!"

Now when the Emir Salamah heard these his son's verses, he bade
pack for him four camel loads of the rarest stuffs, and he
largessed to him a she-dromedary laden with thrones of red gold;
then he said to him, "Lo, O my son, I have given thee more than
thou askedst." "O my father," replied Habib, "where are my steed
and my sword and my spear?" Hereat the pages brought forward a
mail-coat Davidian[FN#404] and a blade Maghrabian and a lance
Khattian and Samharian, and set them between his hands; and the
Sultan Habib donning the habergeon and drawing his sabre and
sitting lance in rest backed his steed, which was of the noblest
blood known to all the Arabs. Then quoth he, "O my father, is it
thy desire to send with me a troop of twenty knights that they may
escort me to the land of Al-Yaman and may anon bring me back to
thee?" "My design," quoth the sire, "is to despatch those with thee
who shall befriend thee upon the road;" and, when Habib prayed him
do as he pleased, the Emir appointed to him ten knights, valorous
wights, who dreaded naught of death however sudden and awesome.
Presently, the youth farewelled his father and mother, his family
and his tribe, and joining his escort, mounted his destrier when
Salamah, his sire, said to his company, "Be ye to my son obedient
in all he shall command you;" and said they, "Hearing and obeying."
Then Habib and his many turned away from home and addressed them to
the road when he began to improvise the following lines,

My longing grows less and far goes my cark * After flamed my heart
     with the love-fire stark;
As I ride to search for my soul's desire * And I ask of those
     faring to Al-Ir\xE1k."

On this wise it befel the Sultan Habib and his farewelling his
father and mother; but now lend ear to what came of the knights who
escorted him. After many days of toil and travail they waxed
discontented and disheartened; and presently taking counsel one
with other, they said, "Come, let us slay this lad and carry off
the loads of stuffs and coin he hath with him; and when we reach
our homes and be questioned concerning him, let us say that he died
of the excess of his desire to Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas." So they
followed this rede, while their lord wotted naught of the ambush
laid for him by his followers.  And having ridden through the day
when the night of offence[FN#405] was dispread, the escort said,
"Dismount we in this garden[FN#406] that here we may take our rest
during the dark hours, and when morning shall morrow we will resume
our road." The Sultan Habib had no mind to oppose them, so all
alighted and in that garden took seat and whatso of victual was
with them produced; after which they ate and drank their
sufficiency and lay down to sleep all of them save their lord, who
could not close eye for excess of love-longing. "O Habib, why and
wherefore sleepest thou not?" they asked, and he answered, "O
comrades mine, how shall slumber come to one yearning for his
dearling, and verily I will lie awake nor enjoy aught repose until
such time as I espy the lifeblood of my heart, Durrat al-Ghawwas."
Thereupon they held their peace; and presently they held council
one with other saying, "Who amongst us can supply a dose of Bhang
that we may cast him asleep and his slaughter may be easy to us?"
"I have two Misk\xE1ls weight[FN#407] of that same," quoth one of
them, and the others took it from him and presently, when occasion
served, they put it into a cup of water and presented it to Habib.
He hent that cup in hand and drank off the drugged liquid at a
single draught; and presently the Bhang wrought in his vitals and
its fumes mounted to his head, mastering his senses and causing his
brain to whirl round, whereupon he sank into the depths of
unconsciousness.  Then quoth his escort, "As soon as his slumber is
soundest and his sleep heaviest we will arise and slay him and bury
him on the spot where he now sleepeth: then will we return to his
father and mother, and tell them that of love-stress to his beloved
and of excessive longing and pining for her he died." And upon this
deed of treachery all agreed. So when dawned the day and showed its
sheen and shone clear and serene the knights awoke and seeing their
lord drowned[FN#408] in sleep they arose and sat in council, and
quoth one of them, "Let us cut his throat from ear to ear;"[FN#409]
and quoth another, "Nay, better we dig us a pit the stature of a
man and we will cast him amiddlemost thereof and heap upon him
earth so that he will die, nor shall any know aught about him."
Hearing this said one of the retinue, whose name was
Rab\xED'a,[FN#410] "But fear you naught from Almighty Allah and regard
ye not the favours wherewith his father fulfilled you, and remember
ye not the bread which ye ate in his household and from his family?
Indeed \x91twas but a little while since his sire chose you out to
escort him that his son might take solace with you instead of
himself, and he entrusted unto you his heart's core, and now ye are
pleased to do him die and thereby destroy the life of his parents.
Furthermore, say me doth your judgment decide that such ill-work
can possibly abide hidden from his father? Now I swear by the
loyalty[FN#411] of the Arabs there will not remain for us a wight
or any who bloweth the fire alight, however mean and slight, who
will receive us after such deed. So do ye at least befriend and
protect your households and your clans and your wives and your
children whom ye left in the tribal domain. But now you design
utterly to destroy us, one and all, and after death affix to our
memories the ill-name of traitors, and cause our women be enslaved
and our children enthralled, nor leave one of us aught to be longed
for." Quoth they jeeringly, "Bring what thou hast of righteous
rede:" so quoth he, "Have you fixed your intent upon slaying him
and robbing his good?" and they answered, "We have." However, he
objected again and cried, "Come ye and hear from me what it is I
advise you, albeit I will take no part[FN#412] in this matter;"
presently adding, "Established is your resolve in this affair, and
ye wot better than I what you are about to do. But my mind is
certified of this much; do ye not transgress in the matter of his
blood and suffer only his crime be upon you;[FN#413] moreover, if
ye desire to lay hands upon his camels and his moneys and his
provisions, then do ye carry them off and leave him where he lieth;
then if he live, 'twere well, and if he die 'twill be even better
and far better." "Thy rede is right and righteous," they replied.
Accordingly they seized his steed and his habergeon and his sword
and his gear of battle and combat, and they carried off all he had
of money and means, and placing him naked upon the bare ground they
drove away his camels. Presently asked one of other, "Whenas we
shall reach the tribe what shall we say to his father and his
mother?" "Whatso Rabi'a shall counsel us," quoth they, and quoth
Rabi'a, "Tell them, 'We left not travelling with your son; and, as
we fared along, we lost sight of him and we saw him nowhere until
we came upon him a-swoon and lying on the road senseless: then we
called to him by name but he returned no reply, and when we shook
him with our hands behold, he had become a dried-up wand. Then
seeing him dead we buried him and brought back to you his good and
his belongings.'" "And if they ask you," objected one, "'In what
place did ye bury him and in what land, and is the spot far or
near,' what shall ye make answer; also if they say to you, 'Why did
ye not bear his corpse with you,' what then shall be your reply?"
Rabi'a to this rejoined "Do you say to them, 'Our strength was
weakened and we waxed feeble from burn of heart and want of water,
nor could we bring his remains with us.' And if they ask you,
'Could ye not bear him a-back; nay, might ye not have carried him
upon one of the camels?' do ye declare that ye could not for two
reasons, the first being that the body was swollen and stinking
from the fiery air, and the second our fear for his father, lest
seeing him rotten he could not endure the sight and his sorrow be
increased for that he was an only child and his sire hath none
other." All the men joined in accepting this counsel of Rabi'a, and
each and every exclaimed, "This indeed is the rede that is most
right." Then they ceased not wayfaring until they reached the
neighbourhood of the tribe, when they sprang from their steeds and
openly donned black, and they entered the camp showing the sorest
sorrow. Presently they repaired to the father's tent, grieving and
weeping and shrieking as they went; and when the Emir Salamah saw
them in this case, crowding together with keening and crying for
the departed, he asked them, "Where is he, my son?" and they
answered, "Indeed he is dead." Right hard upon Salamah was this
lie, and his grief grew the greater, so he scattered dust upon his
head and plucked out his beard and rent his raiment and shrieked
aloud saying, "Woe for my son, ah! Woe for Habib, ah! Woe for the
slice of my liver, ah! Woe for my grief, ah! Woe for the
core[FN#414] of my heart, ah!" Thereupon his mother came forth, and
seeing her husband in this case, with dust on his head and his
beard plucked out and his robe-collar[FN#415] rent, and sighting
her son's steed she shrieked, "Woe is me and well-away for my
child, ah!" and fainted swooning for a full-told hour. Anon when
recovered she said to the knights who had formed the escort, "Woe
to you, O men of evil, where have ye buried my boy?" They replied,
"In a far-off land whose name we wot not, and 'tis wholly waste and
tenanted by wild beasts," whereat she was afflicted exceedingly.
Then the Emir Salamah and his wife and household and all the
tribesmen donned garbs black-hued and ashes whereupon to sit they
strewed, and ungrateful to them was the taste of food and drink,
meat and wine; nor ceased they to beweep their loss, nor could they
comprehend what had befallen their son and what of ill-lot had
descended upon him from Heaven. Such then was the case of them; but
as regards the Sultan Habib, he continued sleeping until the Bhang
ceased to work in his brain, when Allah sent a fresh, cool wind
which entered his nostrils and caused him sneeze, whereby he cast
out the drug and sensed the sun-heat and came to himself. Hereupon
he opened his eyes and sighted a wild and waste land, and he looked
in vain for his companions the knights, and his steed and his sword
and his spear and his coat of mail, and he found himself mother-
naked, athirst, anhungered. Then he cried out in that Desert of
desolation which lay far and wide before his eyes, and the case
waxed heavy upon him, and he wept and groaned and complained of his
case to Allah Almighty, saying, "O my God and my Lord and my
Master, trace my lot an thou hast traced it upon the Guarded
Tablet, for who shall right me save Thyself, O Lord of Might that
is All-might and of Grandeur All-puissant and All-excellent!" Then
he began improvising these verses,

"Faileth me, O my God, the patience with the pride o' me; * Life-
     tie is broke and drawing nigh I see Death-tide o' me:
To whom shall injured man complain of injury and wrong * Save to
     the Lord (of Lords the Best!) who stands by side o'me."

Now whilst the Sultan Habib was ranging with his eye-corners to the
right and to the left, behold, he beheld a blackness rising high in
air, and quoth he to himself, "Doubtless this dark object must be
a mighty city or a vast encampment, and I will hie me thither
before I be overheated by the sun-glow and I lose the power of
walking and I die of distress and none shall know my fate." Then he
heartened his heart for the improvising of such poetry as came to
his mind, and he repeated these verses,

"Travel, for on the way all goodly things shalt find; * And wake
     from sleep and dreams if still to sleep inclined!
Or victory win and rise and raise thee highmost high * And gain, O
     giddy pate, the food for which thy soul hath pined;
Or into sorrow thou shalt fall with breast full strait * And ne'er
     enjoy the Fame that wooes the gen'rous mind,
Nor is there any shall avail to hinder Fate * Except the Lord of
     Worlds who the Two Beings[FN#416] designed."

And when he had finished his verse, the Sultan Habib walked in the
direction of that blackness nor left walking until he drew near the
ridge; but after he could fare no farther and that walking
distressed him (he never having been broken to travel afoot and
barefoot withal), and his forces waxed feeble and his joints
relaxed and his strong will grew weak and his resolution passed
away. But whilst he was perplexed concerning what he should do,
suddenly there alighted between his hands a snow-white fowl huge as
the dome of a Hamm\xE1m, with shanks like the trunk of a palm-tree.
The Sultan Habib marvelled at the sight of this Rukh, and saying to
himself, "Blessed be Allah the Creator!" he advanced slowly towards
it and all unknown to the fowl seized its legs. Presently the bird
put forth its wings (he still hanging on) and flew upwards to the
confines of the sky, when behold, a Voice was heard saying, "O
Habib! O Habib! hold to the bird with straitest hold, else 'twill
cast thee down to earth and thou shalt be dashed to pieces limb
from limb!" Hearing these words he tightened his grasp and the fowl
ceased not flying until it came to that blackness which was the
outline of K\xE1f the mighty mountain, and having set the youth down
on the summit it left him and still flew onwards. Presently a Voice
sounded in the sensorium of the Sultan Habib saying, "Take seat, O
Habib; past is that which conveyed thee hither on thy way to Durrat
al-Ghawwas;" and he, when the words met his ear, aroused himself
and arose and, descending the mountain slope to the skirting plain,
saw therein a cave. Hereat quoth he to himself, "If I enter this
antre, haply shall I lose myself, and perish of hunger and thirst!"
He then took thought and reflected, "Now death must come sooner or
later, wherefore will I adventure myself in this cave." And as he
passed thereinto he heard one crying with a high voice and a sound
so mighty that its volume resounded in his ears. But right soon the
crier appeared in the shape of Al-Abbus, the Governor who had
taught him battle and combat; and, after greeting him with great
joy, the lover recounted his love-adventure to his whilome tutor.
The Jinni bore in his left a scymitar, the work of the Jann and in
his right a cup of water which he handed to his pupil. The draught
caused him to swoon for an hour or so, and when he came-to Al-Abbus
made him sit up and bathed him and robed him in the rarest of
raiment and brought him a somewhat of victual and the twain ate and
drank together. Then quoth Habib to Al-Abbus, "Knowest thou not
that which befel me with Durrat al-Ghawwas of wondrous matters?"
and quoth the other, "And what may that have been?" whereupon the
youth rejoined, "O my brother, Allah be satisfied with thee for
that He willed thou appear to me and direct me and guide me aright
to the dearling of my heart and the cooling of mine eyes." "Leave
thou such foolish talk," replied Al-Abbus, "for where art thou and
where is Durrat al-Ghawwas? Indeed between thee and her are horrors
and perils and long tracts of land and seas wondrous, and
adventures marvellous, which would amaze and amate the rending
lions, and spectacles which would turn grey the sucking child or
any one of man's scions." Hearing these words Habib clasped his
governor to his breast and kissed him between the eyes, and the
Jinni said, "O my beloved, had I the might to unite thee with her
I would do on such wise, but first 'tis my desire to make thee
forgather with thy family in a moment shorter than an eye-
twinkling." "Had I longed for my own people," rejoined Habib, "I
should never have left them, nor should I have endangered my days
nor wouldst thou have seen me in this stead; but as it is I will
never return from my wayfaring till such time as my hope shall have
been fulfilled, even although my appointed life-term should be
brought to end, for I have no further need of existence." To these
words the Jinni made answer, "Learn thou, O Habib, that the cavern
wherein thou art containeth the hoards of our Lord Solomon, David's
son (upon the twain be The Peace!), and he placed them under my
charge and he forbade me abandon them until such time as he shall
permit me, and furthermore that I let and hinder both mankind and
Jinn-kind from entering the Hoard; and know thou, O Habib, that in
this cavern is a treasure-house and in the Treasury forty closets
offsetting to the right and to the left. Now wouldst thou gaze upon
this wealth of pearls and rubies and precious stones, do thou ere
passing through the first door dig under its threshold, where thou
shalt find buried the keys of all the magazines. Then take the
first of them in hand and unlock its door, after which thou shalt
be able to open all the others and look upon the store of jewels
therein. And when thou shalt design to depart the Treasury thou
shalt find a curtain hung up in front of thee and fastened around
it eighty hooks of red gold;[FN#417] and do thou beware how thou
raise the hanging without quilting them all with cotton." So saying
he gave him a bundle of tree-wool he had by him, and pursued, "O
Habib, when thou shalt have raised the curtain thou wilt discover
a door with two leaves also of red gold, whereupon couplets are
inscribed, and as regards the first distich an thou master the
meaning of the names and the talismans, thou shalt be saved from
all terrors and horrors, and if thou fail to comprehend them thou
shalt perish in that Hoard. But after opening the door close it not
with noise nor glance behind thee, and take all heed, as I fear for
thee those charged with the care of the place[FN#418] and its
tapestry. And when thou shalt stand behind the hanging thou shalt
behold a sea clashing with billows dashing, and 'tis one of the
Seven Mains which shall show thee, O Habib, marvels whereat thou
shalt wonder, and whereof relaters shall relate the strangest
relations. Then do thou take thy stand upon the sea-shore whence
thou shalt descry a ship under way and do thou cry aloud to the
crew who shall come to thee and bear thee aboard. After this I wot
not what shall befal thee in this ocean, and such is the end of my
say and the last of my speech, O Habib, and--The Peace!" Hereat the
youth joyed with joy galore than which naught could be more and
taking the hand Of Al-Abbus he kissed it and said, "O my brother,
thou hast given kindly token in what thou hast spoken, and Allah
requite thee for me with all weal, and mayest thou be fended from
every injurious ill!" Quoth Al-Abbus, "O Habib, take this scymitar
and baldrick thyself therewith, indeed \x91twill enforce thee and
hearten thy heart, and don this dress which shall defend thee from
thy foes." The youth did as he was bidden; then he farewelled the
Jinni and set forth on his way, and he ceased not pacing forward
until he reached the end of the cavern and here he came upon the
door whereof his governor had informed him. So he went to its
threshold and dug thereunder and drew forth a black bag creased and
stained by the lapse of years. This he unclosed and it yielded him
a key which he applied to the lock and it forthwith opened and
admitted him into the Treasury where, for exceeding murk and
darkness, he could not see what he hent in hand. Then quoth he to
himself, "What is to do? Haply Al-Abbus hath compassed my
destruction!" And the while he sat on this wise sunken in thought,
behold, he beheld a light gleaming from afar, and as he advanced
its sheen guided him to the curtain whereof he had been told by the
Jinni. But as he looked he saw above it a tablet of emerald dubbed
with pearls and precious stones, while under it lay the hoard which
lighted up the place like the rising sun. So he hastened him
thither and found inscribed upon the tablet the following two

"At him I wonder who from woe is free, * And who no joy
     displays[FN#419] when safe is he:
And I admire how Time deludes man when * He views the past; but ah,
     Time's tyranny."

So the Sultan Habib read over these verses more than once, and wept
till he swooned away; then recovering himself he said in his mind,
"To me death were pleasanter than life without my love!" and
turning to the closets which lay right and left he opened them all
and gazed upon the hillocks of gold and silver and upon the heaps
and bales of rubies and unions and precious stones and strings of
pearls, wondering at all he espied, and quoth he to himself "Were
but a single magazine of these treasures revealed, wealthy were all
the peoples who on earth do dwell." Then he walked up to the
curtain whereupon Jinns and Ifrits appeared from every site and
side, and voices and shrieks so loudened in his ears that his wits
well-nigh flew from his head. So he took patience for a full-told
hour when behold, a smoke which spired in air thickened and brooded
low, and the sound ceased and the Jinns departed. Hereat, calling
to mind the charge of Al-Abbus, he took out the cotton he had by
him and after quilting the golden hooks he withdrew the curtain and
sighted the portal which the Jinni had described to him. So he
fitted in the key and opened it, after which, oblivious of the
warning, he slammed-to the door noisily in his fear and
forgetfulness, but he did not venture to look behind him. At this
the Jinns flocked to him from every side and site crying, "O thou
foulest of mankind, wherefore dost thou provoke us and disturb us
from our stead? and, but for thy wearing the gear of the Jann, we
had slain thee forthright." But Habib answered not and, arming
himself with patience and piety, he tarried awhile until the hubbub
was stilled, nor did the Jann cry at him any more: and, when the
storm was followed by calm, he paced forward to the shore and
looked upon the ocean crashing with billows dashing. He marvelled
at the waves and said to himself, "Verily none may know the secrets
of the sea and the mysteries of the main save only Allah!"
Presently, he beheld a ship passing along shore, so he took seat on
the strand until Night let down her pall of sables upon him; and he
was an-hungered with exceeding hunger and athirst with excessive
thirst. But when morrowed the morn and day showed her sheen and
shone serene, he awoke in his sore distress and behold, he saw two
Mermaidens of the daughters of the deep (and both were as moons)
issue forth hard by him. And ere long quoth one of the twain, "Say
me, wottest thou the mortal who sitteth yonder?" "I know him not,"
quoth the other, whereat her companion resumed, "This be the Sultan
Habib who cometh in search of Durrat al-Ghawwas, our Queen and
liege lady." Hearing these words the youth considered them straitly
and marvelling at their beauty and loveliness he presently rejoiced
and increased in pleasure and delight. Then said one to other,
"Indeed the Sultan Habib is in this matter somewhat scant and short
of wits; how can he love Durrat al-Ghawwas when between him and her
is a distance only to be covered by the sea-voyage of a full year
over most dangerous depths? And, after all this woe hath befallen
him, why doth he not hie him home and why not save himself from
these horrors which promise to endure through all his days and to
cast his life at last into the pit of destruction?" Asked the
other, "Would heaven I knew whether he will ever attain to her or
not!" and her companion answered, "Yes, he will attain to her, but
after a time and a long time and much sadness of soul." But when
Habib heard this promise of success given by the Maidens of the
Main his sorrow was solaced and he lost all that troubled him of
hunger and thirst. Now while he pondered these matters there
suddenly issued from out the ocean a third Mermaid, which asked her
fellows, "Of what are you prattling?" and they answered, "Indeed
the Sultan Habib sitteth here upon the sea-shore during this the
fourth successive night." Quoth she, "I have a cousin the daughter
of my paternal uncle and when she came to visit me last night I
enquired of her if any ship had passed by her and she replied, 'Yea
verily, one did sail driven towards us by a violent gale, and its
sole object was to seek you.'" And the others rejoined, "Allah send
thee tidings of welfare!" The youth hearing these words was
gladdened and joyed with exceeding joy; and presently the three
Mermaidens called to one another and dove into the depths leaving
the listener standing upon the strand. After a short time he heard
the cries of the crew from the craft announced and he shouted to
them and they, noting his summons, ran alongside the shore and took
him up and bore him aboard: and, when he complained of hunger and
thirst, they gave him meat and drink and questioned him saying,
"Thou! who art thou? Say us, art of the trader-folk?" "I am the
merchant Such-and-such," quoth he, "and my ship foundered albe
'twas a mighty great vessel; but one chance day of the days as we
were sailing along there burst upon us a furious gale which
shivered our timbers and my companions all perished while I floated
upon a plank of the ship's planks and was carried ashore by the
send of the sea. Indeed I have been floating for three days and
this be my fourth night." Hearing this adventure from him the
traders cried, "Grieve no more in heart but be thou of good cheer
and of eyes cool and clear: the sea voyage is ever exposed to such
chances and so is the gain thereby we obtain; and if Allah deign
preserve us and keep for us the livelihood He vouchsafed to us we
will bestow upon thee a portion thereof." After this they ceased
not sailing until a tempest assailed them and blew their vessel to
starboard and larboard and she lost her course and went astray at
sea. Hereat the pilot cried aloud, saying, "Ho ye company aboard,
take your leave one of other for we be driven into unknown depths
of ocean, nor may we keep our course, because the wind bloweth full
in our faces." Hereupon the voyagers fell to beweeping the loss of
their lives and their goods, and the Sultan Habib shed tears which
trickled adown his cheeks and exclaimed, "Would Heaven I had died
before seeing such torment: indeed this is naught save a matter of
marvel." But when the merchants saw the youth thus saddened and
troubled of soul, and weeping withal, they said to him, "O Monarch
of the Merchants, let not thy breast be straitened or thy heart be
disheartened: hapty Allah shall vouchsafe joy to us and to thee:
moreover, can vain regret and sorrow of soul and shedding of tears
avail aught? Do thou rather ask of the Almighty that He deign
relieve us and further our voyage." But as the vessel ran through
the middle of the main, she suddenly ceased her course and came to
a stop without tacking to the right or the left, and the pilot
cried out, "O folk, is there any of you who conneth this ocean?"
But they made answer, "We know thereof naught, neither in all our
voyage did we see aught resembling it." The pilot continued, "O
folk, this main is hight 'The Azure';[FN#420] nor did any trader at
any time therein enter but he found destruction; for that it is the
home of Jinns and the house of Ifrits, and he who now withholdeth
our vessel from its course is known as Al-Ghashamsham,[FN#421] and
our lord Solomon son of David (upon the twain be The Peace!)
deputed him to snatch up and carry off from every craft passing,
through these forbidden depths whatever human beings, and
especially merchants, he might find a-voyaging, and to eat them
alive." "Woe to thee!" cried Habib. "Wherefore bid us take counsel
together when thou tellest us that here dwelleth a Demon over whom
we have no power to prevail, and thou terrifiest us with the
thoughts of being devoured by him? However, feel ye no affright; I
will fend off from you the mischief of this Ifrit." They replied,
"We fear for thy life, O Monarch of the Merchants," and he
rejoined, "To you there is no danger." Thereupon he donned a
closely woven mail-coat and armed himself with the magical scymitar
and spear; then, taking the skins of animals freshly slain,[FN#422]
he made a hood and vizor thereof and wrapped strips of the same
around his arms and legs that no harm from the sea might enter his
frame. After this he bade his shipmates bind him with cords under
his armpits and let him down amiddlemost the main. And as soon as
he touched bottom he was confronted by the Ifrit, who rushed
forward to make a mouthful of him, when the Sultan Habib raised his
forearm and with the scymitar smote him a stroke which fell upon
his neck and hewed him into two halves. So he died in the depths;
and the youth, seeing the foeman slain, jerked the cord and his
mates drew him up and took him in, after which the ship sprang
forward like a shaft outshot from the belly[FN#423] of the bow.
Seeing this all the traders wondered with excessive wonderment and
hastened up to the youth, kissing his feet and crying, "O Monarch
of the Merchants, how didst thou prevail against him and do him
die?" "When I dropped into the depths," replied he, "in order to
slay him, I asked against him the aidance of Allah, who vouchsafed
His assistance, and on such wise I slaughtered him." Hearing these
good tidings and being certified of their enemy's death the traders
offered to him their good and gains whereof he refused to accept
aught, even a single mustard seed. Now, amongst the number was a
Shaykh well shotten in years and sagacious in all affairs needing
direction; and this oldster drew near the youth, and making lowly
obeisance said to him, "By the right of Who sent thee uswards and
sent us theewards, what art thou and what may be thy name and the
cause of thy falling upon this ocean?" The Sultan Habib began by
refusing to disclose aught of his errand, but when the Shaykh
persisted in questioning he ended by disclosing all that had
betided him first and last, and as they sailed on suddenly the
Pilot cried out to them, "Rejoice ye with great joy and make ye
merry and be ye gladdened with good news, O ye folk, for that ye
are saved from the dangers of these terrible depths and ye are
drawing near the city of S\xE1b\xFAr, the King who overruleth the Isles
Crystalline; and his capital (which be populous and prosperous)
ranketh first among the cities of Al-Hind, and his reign is
foremost of the Isles of the Sea." Then the ship inclined thither,
and drawing nearer little by little entered the harbour[FN#424] and
cast anchor therein, when the canoes[FN#425] appeared and the
porters came on board and bore away the luggage of the voyagers and
the crew, who were freed from all sorrow and anxiety. Such was
their case; but as regards Durrat al-Ghawwas, when she parted from
her lover, the Sultan Habib, severance weighed sore and stark upon
her, and she found no pleasure in meat and drink and slumber and
sleep. And presently whilst in this condition and sitting upon her
throne of estate, an Ifrit appeared to her and coming forwards
between her hands said, "The Peace of Allah upon thee, O Queen of
the Age and Empress of the Time and the Tide!" whereto she made
reply, "And upon thee be The Peace and the ruth of Allah and His
blessings. What seekest thou O Ifrit?" Quoth he, "There lately hath
come to us a shipful of merchants and I have heard talk of the
Sultan Habib being amongst them." As these words reached her ear
she largessed the Ifrit and said to him, "An thou speak sooth I
will bestow upon thee whatso thou wishest." Then, having certified
herself of the news, she bade decorate the city with the finest of
decorations and let beat the kettledrums of glad tidings and
bespread the way leading to the Palace with a carpeting of
sendal,[FN#426] and they obeyed her behest. Anon she summoned her
pages and commanded them to bring her lover before her; so they
repaired to him and ordered him to accompany them. Accordingly, he
followed them and they ceased not faring until they had escorted
him to the Palace, when the Queen bade all her pages gang their
gait and none remained therein save the two lovers; to wit, the
Sultan Habib and Durrat al-Ghawwas. And after the goodly reunion
she sent for the Kazi and his assessors and bade them write out her
marriage-writ[FN#427] with Habib. He did as he was bidden and the
witnesses bore testimony thereto and to the dowry being duly paid;
and the tie was formally tied and the wedding banquets were
dispread. Then the bride donned her choicest of dresses and the
marriage procession was formed and the union was consummated and
both joyed with joy exceeding. Now this state of things endured for
a long while until the Sultan Habib fell to longing after his
parents and his family and his native country; and at length, on a
day of the days, when a banquet was served up to him by his bride,
he refused to taste thereof, and she, noting and understanding his
condition, said to him, "Be of good cheer, this very night thou
shalt find thee amongst thine own folk." Accordingly she summoned
her Wazir of the Jann, and when he came she made proclamation
amongst the nobles and commons of the capital saying, "This my
Wazir shall be my Viceregent over you and whoso shall gainsay him
that man I will slay." They replied with "Hearkening to and obeying
Allah and thyself and the Minister." Then turning to her
newly-established deputy she said, "I desire that thou guide me to
the garden wherein was the Sultan Habib;" and he replied, "Upon my
head be it and on my eyes!" So an Ifrit was summoned, and Habib
mounting him pick-a-back together with the Princess Durrat
al-Ghawwas bade him repair to the garden appointed, and the Jinni
took flight, and in less than the twinkling of an eye bore the
couple to their destination. Such was the reunion of the Sultan
Habib with Durrat al-Ghawwas and his joyous conjunction;[FN#428]
but as regards the Emir Salamah and his wife, as they were sitting
and recalling to memory their only child and wondering in converse
at what fate might have betided him, lo and behold! the Sultan
Habib stood before them and by his side was Durrat al-Ghawwas his
bride, and as they looked upon him and her, weeping prevailed over
them for excess of their joyance and delight and both his parents
threw themselves upon him and fell fainting to the ground. As soon
as they recovered the youth told them all that had betided him,
first and last, whereupon one congratulated other and the
kettledrums of glad tidings were sounded, and a world of folk from
all the Badawi tribes and the burghers gathered about them and
offered hearty compliments on the reunion of each with other. Then
the encampment was decorated in whole and in part, and festivities
were appointed for a term of seven days full-told, in token of joy
and gladness; and banquets were arrayed and trays were dispread,
and all sat down to them in the pleasantest of life eating and
drinking; and the hungry were filled, and the mean and the
miserable and the mendicants were feasted until the end of the
seventh day. After this they applied them to the punishment of the
ten Knights whom the Emir Salamah had despatched to escort his son;
and the Sultan Habib gave order that retribution be required from
them, and restitution of all the coin and the good and the horses
and the camels entrusted to them by his sire. When these had been
recovered he commanded that there be set up for them as many stakes
in the garden wherein he sat with his bride, and there in their
presence he let impale[FN#429] each upon his own pale. And
thenceforward the united household ceased not living the most
joyous of lives and the most delectable until the old Emir Salamah
paid the debt of nature, and they mourned him with excessive
mourning for seven days. When these were ended his son, the Sultan
Habib, became ruler in his stead and received the homage of all the
tribes and clans who came before him and prayed for his victory and
his length of life; and the necks of his subjects, even the most
stubborn, were bowed in abasement before him. On this wise he
reigned over the Crystalline Isles of Sabur, his sire-in-law, with
justice and equity, and his Queen, Durrat al-Ghawwas, bare to him
children in numbers who in due time followed in their father's
steps. And here is terminated the tale of Sultan Habib and Durrat
al-Ghawwas with all perfection and completion and good omen.

                  Note On The History of Habib

The older translators of this "New Arabian Night" have made wild work with
this Novel at least as the original is given by my text and the edition of
Gauttier (vii, 60-90): in their desire to gallicise it they have invested it
with a toilette purely European and in the worst possible style.  Amongst the
insipid details are the division of the Crystalline Islands into the White,
Yellow, Green and Blue; with the Genies Abarikaff, the monstrous Racachik,
Ilbaccaras and Mokilras; and the terrible journey of Habib to Mount Kaf with
his absurd reflections: even the "Roc" cannot come to his aid without "a
damask cushion suspended between its feet by silken cords" for the greater
comfort of the "Arabian Knight." The Treasury of Solomon, "who fixed the
principles of knowledge by 366 hieroglyphics (sic) each of which required a
day's application from even the ablest understanding, before its mysterious
sense could be understood," is spun out as if the episode were copy intended
for the daily press.  In my text the "Maidens of the Main" are introduced to
say a few words and speed the action.  In the French version Ilzaide the elder
becomes a "leading lady," whose r\xF4le is that of the na\xEFve ing\xE9nue, famous for
"smartness" and "vivacty": "one cannot refrain from smiling at the lively
sallies of her good nature and simplicity of heart."  I find this young person
the model of a pert, pretty, prattling little French soubrette who, moreover,
makes open love to "the master."  Habib calls the "good old lady," his
governess "Esek! Esek!" which in Turk. means donkey, ass.  I need hardly
enlarge upon these ineptitudes; those who wish to pursue the subject have only
to compare the two versions.

At the end of the Frenchified tale we find a note entitled:--Observations by
the French Editor, on the "History of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian
Knight," and these are founded not upon the Oriental text but upon the
Occidental perversion.  It is described "from a moral plane rather as a poem
than a simple tale," and it must be regarded as "a Romance of Chivalry which
unites the two chief characteristics of works of that sort,--amusement and
instruction."  Habib's education is compared with that of Telemachus, and his
being inured to fatigue is according to the advice of Rousseau in his
"Emilius" and the practice of Robinson Crusoe.  Lastly "Grandison is a here
already formed: Habib is one who needs to be instructed."  I cannot but
suspect when reading all this Western travesty of an Eastern work that M.
Cazotte, a typical litt\xE9rateur, had prepared for caricaturing the unfortunate
Habib by carefully writing up F\xE9n\xE9lon, Rousseau, and Richardson; and had
grafted his own ideas of morale upon the wild stem of the Arabian novel.



                        By W. F. Kirby.

             The Say of Haykar the Sage (Pp.1-30).

Haykar's precepts may be compared advantageously with those of other nations
of the East and West (at a corresponding stage of civilisation) which, as a
rule, follow very similar lines. Many of them find their parallels not only in
Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, as we might reasonably expect, but even in the
Havam\xE1l of the Elder Edda, respecting which Thorpe remarks in his translation
(i. p. 36 note): "Odin is the 'High One.' The poem is a collection of rules
and maxims, and stories of himself, some of them not very consistent with our
ideas of a supreme deity." The style of the Icelandic poem, and the manners of
the period when it was composed, are of course as wide apart from those of
Haykar as is Iceland from Syria, but human nature remains the same.

Pp. 22-24.--Two classes of subterfuges similar to those employed by Haykar are
common in folk-tales. In one, the hero vanquishes, and generally destroys, his
adversary (usually a giant) by imposing on his credulity, like Jack when he
hid himself in a corner of the room, and left a faggot in his bed for the
giant to belabour, and afterwards killed the giant by pretending to rip
himself up, and defying the other to do the same. In other cases, the hero
foils his opponents by subterfuges which are admitted to be just, but which
are not intended actually to deceive, as in the devices by which the blind
Shaykh instructs the merchant to baffle the sharpers, in one of the Sindibad
stories (vol. vi., pp. 202-212, No. 135x., of our Table). In the present story
Pharaoh was baffled by the superior cunning of Haykar but it is not made quite
clear whether he actually believed in his power to build a castle in the air
or not. However the story probably belongs to the second class.

P. 25.--Twisting ropes out of sand was a device by which Michael Scot baffled
a devil for whom he had to find constant employment. (Cf. Scott's "Lay of the
Last Minstrel," and notes.)

            The History of Al-Bundukani (Pp. 31-68).

I believe the "Robber-Caliph" is sometimes played as a burlesque, for which it
is well adapted. The parallel suggested between the Caliph and a robber may
remind the reader of the interview between Alexander the Great and the Robber,
in "Evenings at Home." One cannot help sympathising with the disappointed
young Merchant who acted as an informer, and feeling glad that he got off with
a whole skin.

P. 34.--In some versions of this story Harun's abstention from his bride for a
year is attributed to a previous vow.

P. 46 and note 4.--This passage, relative to the character of the Caliph, may
be compared with his forgetfulness respecting Nur Al-Din Ali and Anis
Al-Jalis. (Vol. ii. p, 42, and note.)

     The Linguist-dame, the Duenna, and the King's Son (Pp.

This story, though much shorter, is very closely paralleled by that of Prince
Calaf and the Princess of China, in the Thousand and One Days (cf. vol. x.,
App, pp. 499, 500) Prince Calaf (the son of the King of the Nogais Tartars)
and his parents are driven from their kingdom by the Sultan of Carizme
(Khw\xE1rizm), and take refuge with the Khan of Berlas, where the old King and
Queen remain, while Calaf proceeds to China, where he engages in an
intellectual contest with Princess Tourandocte (Turandot, i.e. Tur\xE1ndokht or
Turan's daughter). When Turandot is on the point of defeat, she sends her
confidante, a captive princess, to Calaf, to worm out his secret (his own
name). The confidante, who is herself in love with Calaf, horrifies him with
the invention that Turandot intends to have him secretly assassinated; but
although he drops his name in his consternation, he refuses to fly with his
visitor. In the morning Turandot declares Calaf's name to him but comforts him
by saying that she has nevertheless determined to accept him as her husband,
instead of cutting off his head; and the slave princess commits suicide.
Messengers are then sent for Calaf's parents, who arrive in company with the
friendly Khan who had granted them an asylum; and Calaf marches against the
Sultan of Carizme, who is defeated and slain, when his subjects readily submit
to the conqueror.

P. 77.--According to Jewish tradition, the Rod of Moses became transformed
into so terrible a dragon that the Egyptians took to flight, and 60,000 of
them were slain in the press.--(Sale's Koran, chap. 7, note.)

P. 77, note 4.--It was long denied that ants store up grain, because our
English ants do not; but it is now well known that many foreign species, some
of which inhabit countries bordering on the Mediterranean (including
Palestine), store up large quantities of grass seeds in their nests; and one
ant found in North America is said to actually cultivate a particular kind of

P. 81, note 6.--Those interested in the question of the succession of the
Patriarchs may refer to Joseph Jacobs' article on "Junior-right in
Genesis,"[FN#430] in which the writer argues that it was the original custom
among the Hebrews, as among other nations, for the youngest son to succeed to
his father's estates, after the elder ones had already established themselves
elsewhere. Much may be urged in favour of this writer's conclusions, and it
will be remembered that our own Monarchy was not recognised as hereditary
until the time of the Conquest, the most able or the strongest relative of the
late King usually succeeding to the Crown, and minors being always set aside,
unless powerful politicians intended to use them as mere tools. In the
Esthonian Kalevipoeg the system comes out still more strongly. Three sons are
living at home at the time of the death of Kalev, but the youngest is
designated by him as his successor, and is afterwards indicated by lot as the
peculiar favourite of the gods.

P. 84, note 4.--Although it has nothing to do with the present story, yet I
may point out the great importance of the bridle in all the folk-tales which
deal with the transformation of human beings into domestic animals. It is
clearly implied (though not actually expressed) in the story of Julnar the Sea
Born (No. 153) that the power of Abdallah and Badr Basim over Queen Lab, while
she bore the form of a mule, depended entirely on their keeping possession of
the bridle (cf. Nights, vol. vii., p. 304, and note). There are many stories
of magicians who transform themselves into horses, &c., for their friends to
sell; but the bridle must on no account be given with the horse. Should this
be neglected (purposely or otherwise) the magician is unable to reassume his
human form at will. Cf. also Spitta-Bey's story No. 1 (infr\xE0).

     The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad
                         (Pp. 95-112).

This story appears in Chavis and Cazotte's version, and in the various
translations made from the French, in a very highly elaborated form, under the
title of "The Adventures of Simoustapha, and the Princess Ilsetilsone." The
Caliph and his Wazir are identified with Harun Al-Rashid and Ja'afar, but they
suffer no transformations at the hands of the Magician after whose death
Prince Simoustapha is protected by Setelpedour Ginatille, whose name is
interpreted as meaning the Star of the Seven Seas, though the first name
appears rather to be a corruption of Sitt El Bub\xFAr. She is the queen of
Ginnistan, and the daughter of Kokopilesobe (Satan), whose contests with
Mahomet and Michael (the former of whom continues the conflict by "becoming
man") are described on the approved Miltonic lines. Her chief councillors are
Bahlisboull (Beelzebub) and Asmonchar (Asmodeus), but ultimately she falls in
love with Simoustapha, and adjures her sovereignty, after which he carries her
off, and marries her, upon which the mother of Ilsetilsone, "the sensible
Zobeide, formed now a much truer and more favourable judgment of her
daughter's happiness, since she had shared the heart of Simoustapha with
Setelpedour, and at last agreed that the union of one man with two women might
be productive of great happiness to all the three, provided that one of the
wives happened to be a fairy." (Weber, ii. p. 50.) A most encouraging
sentiment for would-be polygamists, truly, especially in Europe, where fairies
appear to fly before the advance of civilisation as surely as the wild beasts
of the forest!

P. 99.--These apparitions resemble those which usually precede the visions
which appear in the well-known pool of ink. But the sweeper is not mentioned
in the present story, nor do I remember reading of his appearing in cases of
crystal seeing, though Dante Gabriel Rossetti introduces him into his fine
poem, "Rose Mary," as preparing the way for the visions seen in the beryl:

          "'I see a man with a besom grey
          That sweeps the flying dust away.'
          'Ay, that comes first in the mystic sphere;
          But now that the way is swept and clear
          Heed well what next you look on there.'"

P. 104, note 1.--Apropos of the importance of "three days," I may refer to the
"three days and three nights" which Christ is commonly said to have passed in
the tomb, and I believe that some mystics assert that three days is the usual
period required by a man to recover consciousness after death.

Pp. 106, 107.--These worked lions recall the exhibition of power made by Abu
Mohammed hight Lazybones (No. 37; Nights, iv., p. 165). Their Oriental
prototypes are probably the lions and eagles with which the Jinn ornamented
the throne of Solomon. In the West, we meet with Southey's amusing legend of
the Pious Painter:

          "'Help, help, Blessed Mary,' he cried in alarm,
               As the scaffold sunk under his feet;
          From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm;
          She caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;
               There were hundreds who saw in the street."

The enchanted palaces of the Firm Island, with their prodigies of the Hart and
the Dogs, &c., may also be mentioned (Amadis of Gaul, book II., chap. 21,

Pp. 107, 108.--Stories of changed sex are not uncommon in Eastern and
classical mythology and folk-lore; usually, as in this instance, the change of
a man into a woman, although it is the converse (apparent, of course) which we
meet with occasionally in modern medical books.

In the Nights, &c., we have the story of the Enchanted Spring (No. 135j) in
the great Sindibad cyclus (Nights, vi., pp. 145-150), and Lane (Modern
Egyptians, chap. xxv.) relates a story which he heard in Cairo more resembling
that of the transformed Wazir. In classical legend we have the stories of
Tiresias, C\xE6neus, and Iphis. Turning to India, we meet with the prototype of
C\xE6neus in Amba, who was reincarnated as Sikhandin, in order to avenge herself
on Bhishma, and subsequently exchanged her sex with a Yaksha, and became a
great warrior (Mahabharata Udyoga-Parva, 5942-7057). Some of the versions of
the Enchanted Spring represent the Prince as recovering his sex by an exchange
with a demon, thus showing a transition from the story of Sikhandin to later
replicas. There is also a story of changed sex in the Hindi Baital Pachis\xED;
and no doubt many others might be quoted.

    History of What Befel the Fowl-let with the Fowler (Pp.

One of the most curious stories relative to the escape of a captured prey is
to be found in the 5th Canto of the Finnish Kalevala. V\xE4in\xE4im\xF6inen, the old
minstrel, is fishing in the lake where his love, Aino, has drowned herself,
because she would not marry an old man. He hooks a salmon of very peculiar
appearance, and while he is speculating about cutting it up and cooking it, it
leaps from the boat into the water, and then reproaches him with his folly,
telling him that it is Aino (now transformed into a water-nymph) who threw
herself in his way to be his life-companion, but that owing to his folly in
proposing to eat her, he has now lost her for ever. Hereupon she disappears,
and all his efforts to rediscover her are fruitless.

                The Tale of Attaf (Pp. 129-170).

P. 138, note 6.--I may add that an episode is inserted in the Europeanised
version of this story, relative to the loves of the son of Chebib and the
Princess of Herak, which is evidently copied from the first nocturnal meeting
of Kamaralzaman and Budur (No. 21, Nights, iii., pp. 223-242), and is drawn on
exactly similar lines (Weber, i. pp. 508-510).

      History of Prince Habib, and What Befel Him with the
             Lady Durrat Al-Ghawwas (Pp. 171-201).

P. 197, note 1.--Epithets of colour, as applied to seas, frequently have a
purely mythological application in Eastern tales. Thus, in the story of Zaher
and Ali (cf. my "New Arabian Nights," p. 13) we read, "You are now upon an
island of the Black Sea, which encompasses all other seas, and flows within
Mount Kaf. According to the reports of travellers, it is a ten years' voyage
before you arrive at the Blue Sea, and it takes full ten years to traverse
this again to reach the Green Sea, after which there is another ten years'
voyage before you can reach the Greek Sea, which extends to inhabited
countries and islands."

Kenealy says (in a note to his poem on "Night") that the Atlantic Ocean is
called the Sea of Darkness, on account of the great irruption of water which
occasioned its formation; but this is one of his positive statements relative
to facts not generally known to the world, for which he considered it
unnecessary to quote his authority.

P. 200.--According to one account of impalement which I have seen, the stake
is driven through the flesh of the back beneath the skin.

Reading the account of the Crucifixion between the lines, I have come to the
conclusion that the sudden death of Christ was due to his drinking from the
sponge which had just been offered to him. The liquid, however, is said to
have been vinegar, and not water; but this might have had the same effect, or
water may have been substituted, perhaps with the connivance of Pilate. In the
latter case vinegar may only have been mentioned as a blind, to deceive the
fanatical Jews. The fragmentary accounts of the Crucifixion which have come
down to us admit of many possible interpretations of details.

      Index to the Tales, and Proper Names, Together with
       Alphabetical Table of Notes in Volumes XI. To XVI.


      Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand
                        and One Nights.

    Index to the Tales and Proper Names in the Supplemental

N.B.--The Roman numerals denote the volume, the Arabic the page.
{The Arabic numerals have been discarded}

Abbaside, Ja'afar bin Yahya and Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the, i.
Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the Abbaside, Ja'afar bin Yahya and, i.
Abdullah bin Naf\xED', Tale of Harun Al-Rashid and, ii.
Abu Niyattayn, History of Abu Niyyah and, iv.
Abu Niyyah and Abu Niyyatayn, History of, iv.
Abu Sabir, Story of, i.
Abu Tammam, Story of Aylan Shah and, i.
Advantages of Patience, Of the, i.
Adventure of the Fruit Seller and the Concubine, iv.
Adventures of Khudadad and his Brothers, iii.
Adventures of Prince Ahmad and the Fairy Peri-Banu, iii.
Al-'Abb\xE1s, Tale of King Ins bin Kays and his daughter with the
Son of King, ii.
Alaeddin, or the Wonderful Lamp, iii.
Al-Bundukani, or the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the daughter of
King Kisra, vi.
Al-Hajjaj and the Three Young Men, i.
Al-Hajjaj bin Yusuf and the Young Sayyid, History of, v.
Al-Hayfa and Yusuf, The Loves of, v.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, Story of, iii.
Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, Story of, iii.
Allah, Of the Speedy relief of, i.
Allah, Of Trust in, i.
Al-Maamun and Zubaydah, i.
Al-Maamun, The Concubine of, ii.
Al-Malik Al-Zahir Rukn Al-Din Bibars al-Bundukdari and the
Sixteen Captains of Police, ii.
Al-Nu'uman and the Arab of the Banu Tay, i.
Al-Rahwan, King Shah Bakht and his Wazir, i.
Al-Rashid and the Barmecides, i.
Al-Rashid, Ibn Al-Sammak and, i.
Appointed Term, which, if it be Advanced may not be Deferred, and
     if it be Deferred, may not be Advanced, Of the, i.
Arab of the Banu Tay, Al-Nu'uman and the, i.
Ass, Tale of the Sharpers with the Shroff and the, i.
Attaf, The Tale of, vi.
Attaf, The Tale of, (by Alex. J. Cotheal), vi.
Aylan Shah and Abu Tammam, Story of, i.
Baba Abdullah, Story of the Blind Man, iii.
Babe, History of the Kazi who bare a, iv.
Bakhtzaman, Story of King, i.
Banu Tay, Al-Nu'uman and the Arab of the, i.
Barber and the Captain, The Cairenne Youth, the, v.
Barber's Boy and the Greedy Sultan, Story of the Darwaysh and
     the, v.
Barmecides, Al-Rashid and the, i.
Barmecides,. Harun Al-Rashid and the Woman of the, i.
Beautiful Daughter to the Poor Old Man, Tale of the Richard who
married his, i.
Bhang-Eater and his Wife, History of the, iv.
Bhang-Eater,. Tale of the Kazi and the, iv.
Bihkard, Story of King, i.
Blind Man, Baba Abdullah, Story of the, iii.
Broke-Back Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv.
Cadette, Tale of the Two Sisters who envied their, iii.
Cairenne Youth, the Barber and the Captain, The, v.
Cairo (The good wife of) and her four gallants, v.
Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the daughter of King Kisra, The
     History of Al-Bundukam or the, vi.
Caliph Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the Poets, The, i.
Caliph's Night Adventure, History of the, iii.
Caliph, The Concubine and the, ii.
Captain, The Cairenne Youth, the Barber and the, v.
Captain, The Tailor and the Lady and the, v.
Cheat and the Merchants, Tale of the, i.
China, The Three Princes of, v.
Clemency, Of, i.
Clever Thief, A Merry Jest of a, ii.
Cock and the Fox, The pleasant history of the, vi.
C\x9Clebs the droll and his wife and her four Lovers, v.
Compeer, Tale of the Two Sharpers who each cozened his, i.
Concubine, Adventure of the Fruit Seller and the, iv.
Concubine and the Caliph, The, ii.
Concubine of Al-Maamun, The, ii.
Constable's History, First, ii.
Constable's History, Second, ii.
Constable's History, Third, ii.
Constable's History, Fourth, ii.
Constable's History, Fifth, ii.
Constable's History, Sixth, ii.
Constable's History, Seventh, ii.
Constable's History, Eighth, ii.
Constable's History, Ninth, ii.
Constable's History, Tenth, ii.
Constable's History, Eleventh, ii.
Constable's History, Twelfth, ii.
Constable's History, Thirteenth, ii.
Constable's History, Fourteenth, ii.
Constable's History, Fifteenth, ii.
Constable's History, Sixteenth, ii.
Cook, Story of the Larrikin and the, i.
Coyntes, The Lady with the two, v.
Crone and the Draper's Wife, Story of the, i.
Crone and the King, Tale of the Merchant, the, i.
Cunning She-thief, The Gate Keeper of Cairo and the, v.
Dadbin and his Wazirs, Story of King, i.
Darwaysh and the Barber's Boy and the Greedy Sultan, Story of
     the, v.
Darwaysh, The Sultan who fared forth in the habit of a, iv.
Daryabar, History of the Princess of, iii.
Daughter of King Kisra, The History of Al-Bundukani, or the
     Caliph Harun Al-Rashid  and the, vi.
David and Solomon, Story of, i.
Destiny or that which is written on the Forehead, i.
Dethroned Ruler, whose reign and wealth were restored to him,
     Tale of the, i.
Devotee accused of Lewdness, Tale of the, i.
Disciple's Story, The, i.
Druggist, Tale of the Singer and the, i.
Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, How, iv.
Duenna and the King's Son, The Linguist-Dame, the, vi.
Eighth Constable's History, ii.
Eleventh Constable's History, ii.
Enchanting Bird, Story of the King of Al-Yaman and his Three
     Sons, and the, iv.
Enchanting Bird, Tale of the Sultan and his Three Sons and the,
Ends of Affairs, Of Looking to the, i.
Envy and Malice, Of, i.
Fairy Peri-Banu, Adventures of Prince Ahmad and the, iii.
Falcon and the Locust, Story of the, i.
Fellah and his Wicked Wife, The, v.
Fifteenth Constable's History, ii.
Fifth Constable's History, ii.
First Constable's History, ii.
First Larrikin, History of the, iv.
First Lunatic, Story of the, iv.
Firuz and his Wife, i.
Fisherman and his Son, Tale of the, iv.
Forehead, Of Destiny or that which is Written on the, i.
Forty Thieves, Story of Ali Baba and the, iii.
Fourteenth Constable's History, ii.
Fourth Constable's History, ii.
Fowl with the Fowler, History of what befel the, vi.
Fox, The Pleasant History of the Cock and the, vi.
Fruit seller and the Concubine, Adventure of the, iv.
Fruit seller's Tale, The, iv.
Fuller and his Wife and the Trooper, Tale of the, i.
Gallants, The Goodwife of Cairo and her Four, v.
Gatekeeper of Cairo and the Cunning She-thief, The, v.
Girl, Tale of the Hireling and the, i.
Good and Evil Actions, Of the Issues of, i.
Goodwife of Cairo and her Four Gallants, The, v.
Greedy Sultan, Story of the Darwaysh and the Barber's Boy and
     the, v.
Hajjaj (Al-) and the Three Young Men, i.
Harun Al-Rashid and Abdullah bin Naf\xED', Tale of, ii.
Harun Al-Rashid and the Woman of the Barmecides, i.
Harun Al-Rashid and the Youth Manjab, Night Adventure of, v.
Harun Al-Rashid Tale of the Damsel Tohfat al-Kulub and the
     Caliph, ii.
Haykar the Sage, The Say of, vi.
History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The Ten Wazirs; or the, i.
History of what befel the Fowl with the Fowler, vi.
Hireling and the Girl, Tale of the, i.
How Allah gave him relief, Story of the Prisoner and, i.
How Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, iv.
Husband, Tale of the Simpleton, v.
Ibn al-Sammak and Al-Rashid, i.
Ibrahim and his Son, Story of, i.
Ill Effects of Impatience, Of the, i.
Impatience, Of the Ill Effects of, i.
Ins bin Kays (King) and his Daughter with the Son of King
     Al-'Abb\xE1s, Tale of, ii.
Isa, Tale of the Three Men and our Lord, i.
Issues of Good and Evil Actions, Of the, i.
Ja'afar bin Yahya and Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the Abbaside, i.
Kazi and the Bhang-Eater, Tale of the, iv.
Kazi and the Slipper, Story of the, iv.
Kazi, How Drummer Abu Kasim became a, iv.
Kazi schooled by his Wife, The, v.
Kazi who bare a babe, History of the, iv.
Khalbas and his Wife and the Learned Man, Tale of the, i.
Khudadad and his Brothers, Adventures of, iii.
Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal, History of, iii.
King and his Chamberlain's Wife, Tale of the, i.
King Azadbakht and his Son, The Ten Wazirs; or the History of, i.
King Bakhtzaman, Story of, i.
King Bihkard, Story of, i.
King Dadbin and his Wazirs, Story of, i.
King Ibrahim and his Son, Story of, i.
King of Al-Yaman and his Three Sons and the Enchanting Bird,
     Story of the, iv.
King of Hind and his Wazir, Tale of, i.
King Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, i.
King Sulayman Shah and his Niece, Story of, i.
King Tale of himself told by the, v.
King Tale of the Merchant, the Crone and the, i.
King who kenned the quintessence of things, Tale of the, i.
King who lost Kingdom and Wife and Wealth and Allah restored them
     to him, Tale of the,  i.
King's Son of Sind and the Lady Fatimah, The History of, v.
King's Son, The Linguist-Dame, the Duenna and the, vi.
Kurd Sharper, Tale of Mahmud the Persian and the, iv.
Lady and the Captain, The Tailor and the, v.
Lady Durrat al-Ghawwas, History of Prince Habib and what befel
     him with the, vi.
Lady Fatimah, The History of the King's Son of Sind and the, v.
Lady with the two Coyntes, The, v.
Larrikin and the Cook, Story of the, i.
Larrikin concerning himself, Tale of the Third, iv.
Larrikin History of the First, iv.
Larrikin History of the Second, iv.
Larrikin History of the Third, iv.
Leach (Tale of the Weaver who became a), by order of his wife, i.
Learned Man, Tale of Khalbas and his Wife and the, i.
Lewdness, Tale of the Devotee accused of, i.
Limping Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv.
Linguist-Dame, the Duenna, and the King's Son, The, vi.
Locust, Story of the Falcon and the, i.
Looking to the Ends of Affairs, Of, i.
Lovers, C\x9Clebs the Droll and his wife and her four, v.
Lovers of Syria, History of the, v.
Loves of Al-Hayfa and Yusuf, The, v.
Luck, Story of the Merchant who lost his, i.
Lunatic, Story of the First, iv.
Lunatic, Story of the  Second, iv.
Mahmud the Persian and the Kurd Sharper, Tale of, iv.
Man of Khorassan, his Son and his Tutor, Tale of the, i.
Man whose Caution slew him, Tale of the, i.
Man who was Lavish of his House, and his Provision for one whom
     he knew not, i.
Malice, Of Envy and, i.
Melancholist and the Sharper, Tale of the, i.
Merchant and his Sons, Tale of the, i.
Merchant of Baghdad, Story of Ali Khirajah and the, iii.
Merchant's Daughter and the Prince of Al-Irak, The, v.
Merchants, Tale of the Cheat and the, i.
Merchant, the Crone and the King, Tale of the, i.
Merchant who lost his luck, Story of the, i.
Merry Jest of a Clever Thief, A, ii.
Mistress and his Wife, Mohammed the Shalabi and his, v.
Mohammed, Story of a Sultan of Al-Hind and his Son, iv.
Mohammed Sultan of Cairo, History of, iv.
Mohammed the Shalabi and his Mistress and his Wife, v.
Mohsin and Musa, Tale of, v.
Musa, Tale of Mohsin and, v.
Niece, Story of King Sulayman Shah and his, i.
Night Adventure of Sultan Mohammed of Cairo with the Three
     Foolish Schoolmasters,  The, iv.
Night Adventure of Harun Al-Rashid and the Youth Manjab, v.
Ninth Constable's History, ii.
Nur al-Din Ali of Damascus and the damsel Sitt al-Milah, ii.
Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the Poets, The Caliph, i.
Patience, Of the advantages of, i.
Persistent Ill Fortune, Of the Uselessness of Endeavor against
     the, i.
Picture, Tale of the Prince who fell in love with the, i.
Pleasant History of the Cock and the Fox, The, vi.
Poets, The Caliph Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the, i.
Poor man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the Sultan and the,
Poor old man, Tale of the Richard who married his beautiful
     Daughter to the, i.
Prince Ahmad and the Fairy Peri-Banu, Adventures of, iii.
Prince Bihzad, Story of, i.
Prince Habib and what befel him with the Lady Durrat al-Ghawwas,
     History of, vi.
Prince of Al-Irak, The Merchant's Daughter and the, v.
Princess of Daryabar, History of, iii.
Prince who fell in love with the Picture, Tale of the, i.
Prisoner and how Allah gave him relief, Story of, i.
Quintessence of things, Tale of the King who kenned the, i.
Richard, Tale of the, who married his beautiful daughter to the
     Poor Old Man, i.
Righteous Wazir wrongfully gaoled, The, v.
Robber and the Woman, Tale of the, i.
Sage and his Three Sons, Tale of the, i.
Sage and the Scholar, Story of the, iv.
Salim the Youth of Khorasan, and Salma, his Sister, Tale of, i.
Salma, his Sister, Tale of Salim the Youth of Khorasan and, i,
Say of Haykar the Sage, The, vi.
Scholar, Story of the Sage and the, iv.
Schoolmaster, Story of the Broke-Back, iv.
Schoolmaster, Story of the Limping, iv.
Schoolmaster, Story of the Split-mouthed, iv.
Second Constable's History, ii.
Second Larrikin, History of the, iv.
Second Lunatic, Story of the, iv.
Seventh Constable's History, ii.
Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, King, i.
Sharpers with the Shroff and the Ass, Tale of the, i.
Sharper, Tale of the Melancholist and the, i.
Sharper, Tale of the old, ii.
Shroff and the Ass, Tale of the Sharpers with the, i.
Sidi Nu'uman, History of, iii.
Singer and the Druggist, Tale of the, i.
Simpleton Husband, Tale of the, i.
Simpleton Husband, Tale of the, v.
Sitt al-Milah, Nur al-Din Ali of Damascus and the Damsel, ii.
Sixteen Captains of Police, Al-Malik Al-Zahir Rukn Al-Din Bibars
     al-Bundukdari and the, ii.
Sixteenth Constable's History, ii.
Sixth Constable's History, ii.
Sleeper and the Waker, The, i.
Slipper, Story of the Kazi and the, iv.
Solomon, Story of David and, i.
Sons, Tale of the Merchant and his, i.
Speedy relief of Allah, Of the, i.
Split-mouthed Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv.
Sulayman Shah and his Niece, Story of King, i.
Sultanah, Story of three Sisters and their Mother the, iv.
Sultan and his Three Sons and the Enchanting Bird, Tale of the,
Sultan and the Poor Man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the,
Sultan Mohammed of Cairo with the Three Foolish Schoolmasters,
     The Night Adventure of, iv.
Sultan of Al-Hind and his Son Mohammed, Story of the, iv.
Sultan of Al-Yaman and his Three Sons, Story of, iv.
Sultan who fared forth in the habit of a Darwaysh, The, iv.
Syria, History of the Lovers of, v.
Syrian and the Three Women of Cairo, The, v.
Tailor and the Lady and the Captain, The, v.
Tale of Himself told by the King, v.
Tenth Constable's History, ii.
Ten Wazirs; or, the History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The,
Thief's Tale, The, ii.
Third Constable's History, ii.
Third Larrikin concerning himself, Tale of, iv.
Third Larrikin, History of the, iv.
Thirteenth Constable's History, ii.
Three Foolish Schoolmasters, The Night Adventure of Sultan
     Mohammed of Cairo with the, iv.
Three men and our Lord Isa, Tale of the, i.
Three Princes of China, The, v.
Three  Sharpers, Story of the, iv.
Three Sisters and their Mother the Sultanah, Story of the, iv.
Three Sons, Tale of the Sage and his, i.
Three Women of Cairo, The Syrian and the, v.
Three Young Men, Al-Hajjaj and the, i.
Tither, Tale of the Unjust King and the, i.
Tohfat al-Kulub and the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid, Tale of the
     Damsel, ii.
Trooper, Tale of the Fuller and his wife and the, i.
Trust in Allah, Of, i.
Tutor, Tale of the Man of Khorassan, his Son and his, i.
Twelfth Constable's History, ii.
Two Kings and the Wazir's daughters, Tale of the, ii.
Two Lack-Tacts of Cairo and Damascus, Story of the, v.
Two Sharpers who each cozened his Compeer, Tale of the, i.
Two Sisters who envied their Cadette, Tale of the, iii.
Ugly man and his beautiful Wife, Tale of the, i.
Unjust King and the Tither, Tale of the, i.
Uselessness of Endeavour against the Persistent Ill Fortune, Of
     the, i.
Virtue, The whorish wife who vaunted her, v.
Waker, The Sleeper and the, i.
Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad, Tale of the, vi.
Wazir Al Rahwan, King Shah Bakht and his, i.
Wazir, Tale of the King of Hind and his, i.
Wazir, (The Righteous) wrongfully gaoled, v.
Wazir's Daughters, Tale of the Two Kings and the, ii.
Wazirs; or the History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The Ten, i.
Wazirs, Story of King Dadbin and his, i.
Weaver who became a Leach by order of his wife, Tale of the, i.
Whorish wife who vaunted her virtue, The, v.
Wicked wife, The Fellah and his, v.
Wife, Firuz and his, i.
Wife, History of the Bhang Eater and his, iv.
Wife, Story of the Crone and the Draper's, i.
Wife, Tale of the King and his Chamberlain's, i.
Wife, Tale of the Ugly man and his beautiful, i.
Wife, Tale of the Weaver who became a Leach by order of his, i.
Wife, The Kazi schooled by his, v.
Wives, Story of the Youth who would futter his father's, v.
Woman of the Barmecides, Harun Al-Rashid and the, i.
Woman, Tale of the Robber and the, i.
Woman who humoured her lover at her husband's expense, The, v.
Women's Wiles, ii.
Wonderful Lamp, Alaeddin; or the, iii.
Young Cook of Baghdad, Tale of the Warlock and the, vi.
Young Sayyid, History of Al-Hajjaj bin Yusuf and the, v.
Youth Manjab, Night Adventure of Harun Al-Rashid and the, v.
Youth who would futter his father's wives, Story of the, v.
Yusuf, The Loves of Al-Hayfa and, v.
Zayn al-Asnam, Tale of, iii.
Zubaydah, Al-Maamun and, i.

       Variants and Analogues of Some of the Tales in the
                      Supplemental Nights.

                       By W. A. Clouston.

Aladdin; or the Wonderful Lamp, iii.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii.
Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, iii.
Al Malik Al-Zahir and the Sixteen Captains of Police, ii.
Blind Man, Baba Abdullah, The Story of the, iii.
Damsel Tuhfat al-Kulub, The, ii.
Devout woman accused of Lewdness, The, ii.
Fifteenth Constable's Story, The, ii.
Firuz and his Wife, ii.
Fuller, his Wife and the Trooper, The, ii.
Khudadad and his Brothers, iii.
Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal, History of, iii.
King Aylan Shah and Abu Tammam, ii.
King Dadbin and his Wazirs, ii.
King Ins bin Kays and his Daughter, ii.
King Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, ii.
King Sulayman Shah and his Niece, ii.
King who kenned the Quintessence of things, The, ii.
King who lost Kingdom, Wife and Wealth, The, ii.
Melancholist and the Sharper, The, ii.
Ninth Constable's Story, The, ii.
Nur al-Din and the Damsel Sitt al-Milah, ii.
On the Art of Enlarging Pearls, ii.
Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu, iii.
Prince who fell in love with the Picture, The, ii.
Sidi Nu'man, History of, iii.
Simpleton Husband, The, ii.
Singer and the Druggist; The, ii.
Sleeper and the Waker, ii.
Ten Wazirs, or the History of King Azadbakht and his son, ii.
Thief's Tale, The, ii.
Three men and our Lord Isa, The, ii.
Two Sisters who envied their Cadette, The, iii.
Weaver who became a leach by order of his wife, The, ii.
Women's Wiles, ii.
Zayn al-Asnarn, The tale of, iii.

                       Additional Notes.

                       By W. A. Clouston.

Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp, iii.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii.
Firuz and his Wife, ii.
Fuller, his wife and the Trooper, The, ii.
Prince Ahmad, The Tale of, iii.
Singer and the Druggist, The, ii.
Zayn al-Asnam, The Tale of, iii.

                        By W. F. Kirby.

Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. iv.; v.
Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. v.; v.
Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. vi.; vi.
Additional Bibliographical Notes to the Tales in the Supplemental
Nights, vi.

      Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand
      and One Nights. (Cf. Nights, X., App. Ii., P. 414.)

                        By W. F. Kirby.

Herewith I add notes on any works of importance which I had not seen when my
"Contributions" were published, or which have appeared since.

     Zotenberg's Work on Aladdin and on Various Manuscripts
                         of the Nights.

One of the most important works which has appeared lately in connection with
the Thousand and One Nights, is the following:

Histoire d' 'Al\xE2 Al-D\xEEn ou la Lampe Merveilleuse. Texte Arabe publi\xE9 avec une
notice sur quelques manuscrits des Mille et une Nuits par H. Zotenberg, roy.
8vo. Paris, Imprim\xE9rie Nationale, 1888

The publication of this work puts an end to the numerous conjectures of
scholars as to the source of Galland's unidentified tales; and the notes on
various MSS. of the Nights are also very valuable. It therefore appears
desirable to give a tolerably full sketch of the contents of the book.[FN#431]

M. Zotenberg begins with general remarks, and passes on to discuss Galland's
edition. [Section I.]--Although Galland frequently speaks of Oriental
tales[FN#432], in his journal, kept at Constantinople in 1672 and 1673, yet as
he informs us, in his Dedication to the Marquise d'O., he only succeeded in
obtaining from Syria a portion of the MS. of the Nights themselves with
considerable difficulty after his return to France.

There is some doubt as to the date of appearance of the first 6 vols. of
Galland's "Mille et une Nuit." According to Caussin de Perceval, vols. 1 and 2
were published together in 1704, and vols. 3 and 4 in the course of the same
year. Nevertheless, in the copy in the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale, vols. 1 and 4
are dated 1704, and vols. 2, 5 and 6 are dated 1705; vol. 3 is missing, just
as we have only odd volumes of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th English editions in the
British Museum, the 1st being still quite unknown.

M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of Galland's MS. (cf. Nights, x.
App., p. 414), and illustrates it by a specimen page in facsimile. Judging
from the character of the writing, &c., he considers it to have been
transcribed about the second half of the 14th century (Sir R. F. Burton
suggests about A.D. 1384). It is curious that there is a MS. of the 15th
century in the Library of the Vatican, which appears to be almost a
counterpart of Galland's, and likewise contains only the first 282 Nights.
Galland's MS. wants a leaf extending from part of Night 102 to the beginning
of Night 104, and containing an account of the Hunchback and his buffooneries;
this hiatus is filled up in the Vatican MS.

Hab\xECcht's version is noted as more approaching Galland's MS. than do the texts
founded on the Egyptian texts; but in thus speaking, Zotenberg does not notice
the assertion that Hab\xECcht's MS., though obtained at Tunis, came originally
from Egypt. He considers the ordinary Egyptian texts to be generally abridged
and condensed.

Although it is clear that Galland made great use of this MS. for his
translation, yet M. Zotenberg points out numerous discrepancies, especially
those at the commencement of the work, which led Caussin de Perceval to regard
Galland's work as a mere paraphrase of the original. M. Zotenberg, however (p.
14), writes, "Evidemment, Galland, pour la traduction du commencement du
r\xE8cit, \xE0 suivi un texte plus developp\xE9 que celui du MS. 1508, texte dont la
r\xE9daction \xE9gyptienne ne presente qu'un maladroit abr\xE9g\xE9." He quotes other
instances which seem to show that Galland had more than one text at his

[Section II.]--At the beginning of the 17th century, only two MSS. of the
Nights existed m the libraries of Paris, one in Arabic, and the other in
Turkish. The Arabic MS. contains 870 Nights, and is arbitrarily divided into
29 sections. M. Zotenberg considers that it was to this MS. that Galland
referred, when he said that the complete work was in 36 parts The tales follow
the order of our Table as far as No. 7 (Nos. 2ab, 2ac and 3ba are wanting),
the remainder are irregular, and run as follows: 153, 154, 154a, 20; story of
Khailedj\xE1n ibn H\xE1man, the Persian; Story of the Two Old Men, and of B\xE1z
al-Aschb\xE1b Abou Lahab; 9, apparently including as episodes 9a, 9aa, 21, 8, 9b,
170, 181r to 181bb 137, 154 (commencement repeated), 181u to 181bb (repeated),
135a, Adventures of a traveller who entered a pond (\xE9tang) and underwent
metamorphoses:[FN#433] anecdotes and apothegms; a portion of the Kalila and
Dimna ?

The Turkish MS. (in 11 vols.) is made up of several imperfect copies, which
have been improperly put together. The bulk is formed by vols. 2-10 which are
written in three different hands, and some of which bear date 1046 A.H. The
contents of these nine vols. are as follows: Introduction and 1-3 (wanting
2ab), Story of 'Abdallah of Basra, 5; Story of 'Att\xE1f ibn Ism\xE1'il al-Schoql\xE1ni
of Damascus and the schaikh Abou-'l-Baraka al-Naww\xE1m, 6; Story told by the
Christian Merchant (relating to Qamar al-Zam\xE1n during the reign of Sultan
Mahmoud, and different from the story known under this title); Story of Ahmad
al- Saghir (the tattle) and Schams al-Qosour; Story of the Young Man of
Baghdad and the Bathman (Baigneur, attendant in a Hammam), 7; 153; 21; Story
of Khaledjan ibn Mah\xE1ni; Story of Nour al-Din 'All and of Dounya (or Dinar) of
Damascus, 133, Story of Prince Qamar-Khan and of the schaikh 'Ate, of the
Sultan Mahmoud-Kh\xE1n, of Bahr\xE1m-Sch\xE1h, of 'Abdallah ibn Hilal, of Harout and
Marout, &c.; Story of Qowwat al-Qoloub; 9, including as episodes 9a; 8; Story
of Moubaref who slept in the bath; ( ? = 96); and 170; Fables.

The other volumes (1 and 11 of the MS.) both contain the beginning of the MS.
Vol. I was written towards the end of the 17th century, and extends about as
far as Night 55, concluding with No. 7, which follows No. 3. Vol. 11., which
once belonged to Galland, includes only a portion of the Introduction. The
text of these two fragments is similar, but differs considerably from that of
vol. 2 of the MS.; and specimens of the commencement of vols. 1 and 2 are
given to show this. Yet it is singular that Galland does not seem to have used
these Turkish volumes; and the second MS. which he actually used, like the 4th
vol. of the copy preserved in the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale, appears to be

M. Zotenberg then remarks on the missing vol. 4 of Galland, and quotes
extracts from Galland's Diary, strewing that Nos. 191, 192 and 192a, which
were surreptitiously introduced into his work without his knowledge, and
greatly to his annoyance, were translated by Petis de la Croix, and were
probably intended to be included in the Thousand and One Days, which was
published in 1710.

[Section III.]--This is one of the most important in the book, in which
extracts from Galland's Diary of 1709 are quoted, shewing that he was then in
constant communication with a Christian Maronite of Aleppo, named Hanna
(Jean), who was brought to Paris by the traveller Paul Lucas, and who related
stories to Galland, of which the latter took copious notes, and most of which
he worked up into the later volumes of his "Mille et une Nuit" (sic). Among
these were 193, 194a, 194b, 59, 197, 198, 174, 195, 194c, 196. The following
tales he did not use: An Arab story of two cousins, Camar eddin and Bedr el
Bodour; the Golden City (another version of the story of the Three Princes, in
No. 198, combined with the story of the woman who slew pretenders who were
unable to solve a riddle); The Three Princes, the Genius Morhagian, and his
Daughters; and the story of the seller of ptisanne (or diet-drinks) and his
son Hassan.

Further extracts from Galland's Diary are added, extending from the time of
Hanna's departure from Paris between June and October, 1709, and the
completion of the 12th volume of the Mille et une Nuit in 1712. These relate
to the gradual progress of the work; and to business in connection with it;
and Hanna's name is occasionally mentioned.

Hanna supplied Galland with a written version of No. 193, and probably of 194
a-c; (i.e. most of the tales in vol. 9 and 10); but the tales in vols. 11 and
12 were apparently edited by Galland from his notes and recollections of
Hanna's narrations. These are Nos. 195, 196, 59, 197 and 198. M. Zotenberg
concludes that Hanna possessed a MS. containing all these tales, part of which
he copied for Galland, and that this copy, like several other important
volumes which Galland is known or believed to have possessed, was lost. M.
Zotenberg thinks that we may expect to meet with most of Hanna's tales either
in other copies of the Nights, or in some other collection of the same kind.
The latter supposition appears to me to be by far the most probable.

[Section IV.]--M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of one or two very
important MSS. of the Nights in the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale. One of these is a
MS. which belonged to the elder Caussin, and was carefully copied by Michael
Sabbagh from a MS. of Baghdad. Prof. Fleischer, who examined it, states
(Journal Asiatique, 1827, t. II., p. 221) that it follows the text of Habicht,
but in a more developed form. M. Zotenberg copies a note at the end, finishing
up with the word "Kab\xEDkaj" thrice repeated. This, he explains, "est le nom du
g\xE9nie pr\xE9pos\xE9 au r\xE9gne des insectes. Les scribes, parfois, l'invoquent pour
preserver leurs manuscrits de l'atteinte de vers."

This MS. was copied in Parts on European paper at the beginning of the
century, though Caussin de Perceval was not acquainted with it in 1806, but
only with a MS. of the Egyptian redaction. This MS. agrees with Galland's only
as far as the 69th Night. It differs from it in two other points; it contains
No. 1c, and the end of No. 3 coincides with the end of Night 69. The contents
of Nights 70-1001 are as follows: 246, 4, 5, 6, 20, 7, 153, 21, 170, 247, The
Unhappy Lover confined in the Madhouse (probably = 204c), 8, 191, 193,174, 9,
9b (not 9a, or 9aa) and as episodes, 155, 32, and the story of the two
brothers 'Am\xEDr and Ghadir, and their children Djamil and Bathina.

Another MS., used by Chavis and Cazotte, and Caussin de Perceval, was written
in the year 1772. It has hitherto been overlooked, because it was erroneously
stated in the late M. Reinaud's Catalogue to be a MS. containing part of the
1001 Nights, extending from Night 282 to Night 631, and copied by Chavis. It
is not from Chavis' hand, and does not form part of the ordinary version of
the Nights, but contains the following tales: 174, 248, Story of King Sapor,
246, 3a, 36, 3c, 153, Story of the Intendant, the Interpreter, and the Young
Man; 247, 204c, 240, 250, Story of the Caliph and the Fisherman (probably =
156), the Cat and the Fox, and the Little Bird and the Fowler.

Another MS., really written by Chavis, commences exactly where Vol. 3 of
Galland's MS leaves off, i. e. in the middle of No. 21, and extends from Night
281 to Night 631. M. Zotenberg supposes it to have been written to supply the
place of the last volume of Galland's set. It contains the following tales in
addition to the conclusion of No. 21: 170, 247, 204c, 8, 191, 193 and 174. M.
Zotenberg suggests that the first part of this MS may have been copied from
Galland's last volume, which may have existed at the time in private hands.

The two last MSS. contain nearly the same tales, though with numerous

M. Zotenberg discusses the hypothesis of Chavis' MS. being a translation from
the French, and definitely rejects it.

[Section V.]--Here M. Zotenberg discusses the MSS. of the Nights in general,
and divides them into three categories. 1. MSS. proceeding from Muslim parts
of Asia. These, except the MSS. of Michael Sabbagh and that of Chavis, contain
only the first part of the work. They are all more or less incomplete, and
stop short in the middle of the text. They are not quite uniform, especially
in their readings, but generally contain the same tales arranged in the same
order. II. Recent MSS. of Egyptian origin, characterised by a special style,
and a more condensed narrative; by the nature and arrangement of the tales, by
a great number of anecdotes and fables; and by the early part of the work
containing the great romance of chivalry of King Omar Bin Al-Nu'uman. III.
MSS. mostly of Egyptian origin, differing as much among themselves in the
arrangement of the tales as do those of the other groups.

The following MSS. are mentioned as belonging to the first group:--

I.   Galland's MS. in the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale, Nos. 1506-1508.
II.  MS. in the Vatican, No. 782.
III.      Dr. Russell's MS. from Aleppo.
IV.  MS. in the Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. 1715, I and II.).
V.   MS. in the Library of Christ Church College, Oxford (No. ccvii.).
VI.  MS. in the Library of the India Office, London (No. 2699).
VII.      Sir W. Jones' MS., used by Richardson.
VIII.     Rich's MS. in the Library of the British Museum (Addit. 7404).
IX.  MS. in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. 2522 and 2523) X. MS. in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl.

The following MSS. are enumerated as belonging to the second group:--

I.   Salt's MS. (printed in Calcutta in 4 vols.).
II-IV.    Three complete MSS. in Biblioth\xE8que Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, Nos.
          1717,1718, 1719).
V.   Incomplete MS. of Vol. II. in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. Arabe, Nos 2198 to
VI.  Incomplete MS. of Vol. 4 (Suppl. Arabe, Nos. 2519 to 2521).
VII.      Odd vol. containing Nights 656 to 1001 (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1721, III.).
XII.      MS. containing Nights 284 to 327 (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1720).
XIII.     MS. in British Museum (Oriental MSS., Nos. 1593 to 1598).
XIV.      Ditto (Oriental MSS., Nos. 2916 to 2919).
XV.  Burckhardt's MS. in the University Library at Cambridge (B. MSS. 106 to
XVI.      MS. in the Vatican (Nos. 778 to 781).
XVII.     MS. in the Ducal Library at Gotha.
XVIII. Odd vol. in ditto.
XIX.      MS. in the Royal Library at Munich.
XX.  Ditto, incomplete (De Sacy's).
XXI.      Fragment in the Library of the Royal and Imperial Library at Vienna (No.
XXII.     MS. in the Imperial Public Library at St. Petersburg (Von
XXIII.MS. in the Library of the Institute for the Study of Oriental languages
          at St. Petersburg (Italinski's).
XXIV. Mr. Clarke's MS. (cf. Nights, x., App. pp. 444- 448).
XXV.      Caussin de Perceval's MS.
XXVI. Sir W. Ouseley's MSS.

The above list does not include copies or fragments in various libraries of
which M. Zotenberg has no sufficient information, nor miscellaneous collection
in which tales from the Nights are mixed with others.

Portions of Habicht's MS. appear to belong to the Egyptian recension, and
others to have come from further East.

There is a MS. in the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1721, IV.)
from Egypt, containing the first 210 Nights, which somewhat resembles
Habicht's MS. both in style and in the arrangement of the tales. The Third
Shaykh's Story (No. 1 c.) is entirely different from those in the ordinary
MSS., nor is it the same as that in the Turkish version of the Nights, which
is again quite different from either. In this MS. (No. 1721, IV.) No. 6 is
followed by Nos. 7, 174, and 133.

Then follow notices of Anderson's MS., used by Scott, but which cannot now be
traced the Calcutta edition of the first 200 Nights; and of the Wortley
Montague MS. These form M. Zotenberg's third group of MSS.

M. Zotenberg does not enter into the question of the original form, date and
constituents of the primitive work, but concludes that the complete work as we
now have it only assumed its present form at a comparatively recent period.
But it must not be forgotten that the details, description, manners, and style
of the tales composing this vast collection, are undergoing daily alteration
both from narrators and copyists.

Then follows an Appendix, in which M. Zotenberg has copied two tales from
Galland's journals, which he took down as related by the Maronite Hanna. One
of these is new to me, it is the story of the Three Princes, and the Genius
Morhagian and his Daughters (added at the end of this section); and the other
is the well-known story of the Envious Sisters.

The remainder of M. Zotenberg's volume contains the Arabic text of the story
of 'Ala Al-Din, or the Wonderful Lamp, with numerous critical notes, most of
which refer to Galland's version. A few pages of Chavis' text are added for

The story itself, M. Zotenberg remarks, is modern, giving a faithful picture
of Egyptian manners under the reign of the last Mamlouk Sultans. Some
expressions which occur in the French Arabic Dictionary of Ellions Bocthor and
of A. Caussin de Perceval, are apparently derived from the story of 'Ala

    Story of the Three Princes and the Genius Morhagian and
                         His Daughters.

[Reprinted by M. Zotenberg (pp. 53-61) from Galland's Journal, MS. francais,
No. 15277, pp. 120-131. The passages in brackets are added by the present
translator (chiefly where Galland has inserted "etc.") to fill up the sense.]

When the Sultan of Samarcand had reached a great age, he called the three
princes, his sons, and after observing that he was much pleased to see how
much they loved and revered him, he gave them leave to ask for whatever they
most desired. They had only to speak, and he was ready to grant them whatever
they asked, let it be what it might, on the sole condition that he should
satisfy the eldest first, and the two younger ones afterwards, each in his
turn. The eldest prince, whose name was Rostam, begged the Sultan to build him
a cabinet of bricks of gold and silver alternately, and roofed with all kinds
of precious stones.

The Sultan issued his orders that very day, but before the roof of the cabinet
was finished, indeed before any furniture had been put into it, Prince Rostam
asked his father's leave to sleep there. The Sultan tried to dissuade him,
saying that [the roof] ought to be finished first, but the prince was so
impatient that he ordered his bed to be removed there, and he lay down. He was
reading the Koran about midnight, when suddenly the floor opened and he beheld
a most hideous genius named Morhagian rise from the ground, who cried out,
"You are a prince, but even if you were the Sultan himself, I would not
refrain from taking vengeance for your rashness in entering this house which
has been built just above the palace of my eldest daughter." At the same time
he paced around the cabinet, and struck its walls, when the whole cabinet was
reduced to dust so fine that the wind carried it away, and left not a trace of
it. The prince drew his sword, and pursued the genius, who took to flight
until he came to a well, into which he plunged [and vanished]. When the prince
appeared before his father the Sultan next morning, he was overwhelmed with
confusion [not only at what had happened, but on account of his disobedience
to his father, who reproached him severely for having disregarded his advice].

The second prince, whose name was Gaiath Eddin (Ghay\xE1th al-Din), then
requested the Sultan to build him a cabinet constructed entirely of the bones
of fishes. The Sultan ordered it to be built, at great expense. Prince Gaiath
Eddin had no more patience to wait till it was quite finished than his brother
Rostam. He lay down in the cabinet notwithstanding the Sultan's warnings, but
took care to keep his sword by his side The genius Morhagian appeared to him
also at midnight, paid him the same compliment, and told him that the cabinet
was built over the palace of his second daughter. He reduced it to dust, and
Prince Gaiath Eddin pursued him, sword in hand, to the well, where he escaped;
and next day the prince appeared before his father, the Sultan [as crestfallen
as his brother].

The third prince, who was named Badialzaman (Bad\xEDu'l-Zam\xE1n = Rarity of the
Age) obtained leave from the Sultan to build a cabinet entirely of rock
crystal. He went to sleep there before it was entirely finished, but without
saying anything to the Sultan, as he was resolved to see whether Morhagian
would treat him in the same way. Morhagian arrived at midnight, and declared
that the cabinet was built over the palace of his third daughter. He destroyed
the cabinet' and when the prince seized his sword, Morhagian took to flight.
The prince wounded him three times before he reached the well, but he
nevertheless succeeded in escaping.

Prince Badialzaman did not present himself to the Sultan, but went to the two
princes, his brothers, and urged them to pursue the genius in the well itself.
The three went together, and the eldest was let down into the well by a rope,
but after descending a certain distance, he cried out, and asked to be drawn
up a rain. He excused his failure by saying that he felt a burning heat [and
was almost suffocated]. The same thing happened to Prince Gaiath Eddin, who
likewise cried out till he was drawn up. Prince Badialzaman then had himself
let down but commanded his brothers not to draw him up again, even if he
should cry out. They let him down, and he cried out, but he continued to
descend till he reached the bottom of the well, when he untied himself from
the rope, and called out to his brothers that the air was very foul. At the
bottom of the well he found an open door and he advanced for some distance
between two walls, at the end of which he found a golden door, which he
opened, and beheld a magnificent palace. He entered and passed through the
kitchen and the storerooms, which were filled with all kinds of provisions,
and then inspected the rooms, when he entered one magnificently furnished with
sofas and divans. He was curious to find out who lived there, so he hid
himself. Soon afterwards he beheld a flight of doves alight at the edge of a
basin of water in the middle of the court The doves plunged into the water,
and emerged from it as women, each of whom immediately set about her appointed
work. One went to the store room, another to the kitchen a third began to
sweep [and so on]. They prepared a feast [as if for expected guests]. Some
time afterwards, Badialza man beheld another flight of ten doves of different
colours who surrounded an eleventh, which was quite white, and these also
perched on the edge of the basin. The ten doves plunged into the basin and
came forth as women, more beautiful than the first and more magnificently
robed. They took the white dove and plunged her into a smaller basin, which
was [filled with] rose [water] and she became a woman of extraordinary beauty.
She was the eldest daughter of the genius, and her name was Fattane. (Fatt\xE1nah
= The Temptress.)

Two of her attendants then took Fattane under the armpits, and led her to her
apartment, followed by the others. She took her seat on a small raised sofa,
and her women separated, some to the right and some to the left, and set about
their work. Prince Badialzaman had dropped his handkerchief. One of the
waiting women saw it and picked it up, and when she looked round, she saw the
prince. She was alarmed, and warned Fattane, who sent some of her women to see
who the stranger was. The prince came forward, and presented himself before
Fattane, who beheld a young prince, and gave him a most gracious reception.
She made him sit next to her, and inquired what brought him there? He told his
story from the beginning to the end, and asked where he could find the genius,
on whom he wished to take vengeance. Fattane smiled, and told him to think no
more about it, but only to enjoy himself in the good company in which he found
himself. They spread the table, and she made him sit next to her, and her
women played on all kinds of musical instruments before they retired to rest.

Fattane persuaded the prince to stay with her from day to day: but on the
fortieth day he declared that he could wait no longer, and that it was
absolutely necessary for him to find out where Morhagian dwelt. The princess
acknowledged that he was her father, and told him that his strength was so
great [that nobody could overcome him]. She added that she could not inform
him where to find him, but that her second sister would tell him. She sent one
of her women to guide him to her sister's palace through a door of
communication, and to introduce him. He was well received by the fairy, for
whom he had a letter, and he found her younger and more beautiful than
Fattane. He begged her to inform him where he could find the genius, but she
changed the subject of conversation, entertained him magnificently, and kept
him with her for forty days. On the fortieth day she permitted him to depart,
gave him a letter, and sent him to her youngest sister, who was a still more
beautiful fairy. He was received and welcomed with joy. She promised to show
him Morhagian's dwelling, and she also entertained him for forty days. On the
fortieth day she tried to dissuade him from his enterprise, but he insisted.
She told him that Morhagian would grasp his head in one hand, and his feet in
the other, and would tear him asunder in the middle. But this did not move
him, and she then told him that he would find Morhagian in a dwelling, long,
high and wide in proportion to his bulk. The prince sought him out, and the
moment he caught sight of him, he rushed at him, sword in hand. Morhagian
stretched out his hand, seized his head in one hand and his feet in the other,
rent him in two with very little effort, and threw him out of a window which
overlooked a garden.

Two women sent by the youngest princess each took a piece of the body of the
prince, and brought it to their mistress, who put them together, reunited
them, and restored life to the prince by applying water [of life ?] to the
wounds. She then asked the prince where he came from, and it seemed to him
that he had just awakened from sleep; and she then recalled everything to his
recollection. But this did not weaken his firm resolve to kill the genius. The
fairy begged him to eat, but he refused; and she then urged that Morhagian was
her father, and that he could only be killed by his own sword, which the
prince could not obtain.[FN#434] "You may say what you please," answered the
prince; "but there is no help for it, and he must die by my hand [to atone for
the wrongs which my brothers and I have suffered from him]."

Then the princess made him swear solemnly to take her as his bride, and taught
him how he might succeed in killing the genius. "You cannot hope to kill him
while he wakes," said she, "but when he sleeps it is not quite impossible. If
he sleeps, you will hear him snore, but he will sleep with his eyes open,
which is a sign that he has fallen into a very profound slumber. As he fills
the whole room, step upon him and seize his sword which hangs above his head,
and then strike him on the neck. The blow will not kill him, but as he wakes,
he will tell you to strike him a second time. But beware of doing this [for if
you strike him again, the wound will heal of itself, and he will spring up and
kill you, and me after you]."

Then Badialzaman returned to Morhagian's room, and found him snoring so loud
that everything around him shook. The prince entered, though not without
trembling, and walked over him till he was able to seize the sword when he
struck him a violent blow on the neck. Morhagian awoke, cursing his daughter,
and cried out to the prince, whom he recognised, "Make an end of me." The
prince answered that what he had done was enough, and he left him, and
Morhagian died.

The prince carried off Morhagian's sword, which he thought would be useful to
him in other encounters; and as he went, he passed a magnificent stable in
which he saw a splendid horse. He returned to the fairy and related to her
what he had done, and added that he would like to carry off the horse, but he
feared it would be very difficult. "Not so difficult as you think," said she.
"Go and cut off some hair from his tail, and take care of it, and whenever you
are in need, burn one or two of the hairs, and he will be with you immediately
[and will bring you whatever you require]."

After this the three fairies assembled together, and the prince promised that
the two princes, his brothers, should marry the other two sisters. Each fairy
reduced her palace to the size of a small ball, which she gave to the prince

The prince then took the three fairies to the bottom of the well. His father,
the Sultan, had long believed that he was dead, and had put on mourning for
him. His two brothers often came to the well, and they happened to be there
just at the time. Badialzaman attracted their attention by his shouts, told
them what had happened, and added that he had brought the three fairies with
him. He asked for a rope and fastened the eldest fairy to it, calling out,
"Pull away, Prince Rostam, I send you your good fortune." The rope was let
down again, and he fastened the second fairy to it, calling out "Brother
Gaiath Eddin, pull up your good fortune too."

The third fairy, who was to marry Badialzaman, begged him to allow himself to
be drawn up before her [as she was distrustful of his brothers], but he would
not listen to her. As soon as the two princes had drawn her up so high that
they could see her, they began to dispute who should have her. Then the fairy
cried out to Badialzaman, "Prince, did I not warn you of this ?"

The princes were obliged to agree that the Sultan should settle their dispute.
When the third fairy had been drawn out of the well, the three fairies
endeavoured to persuade the two princes to draw up their youngest brother, but
they refused, and compelled them to follow them. While they carried off the
youngest princess, the other two asked leave to say adieu to Prince
Badialzaman They cried out from the top of the well, "Prince have patience
till Friday, when you will see six bulls pass by--three red ones and three
black ones. Mount upon one of the red ones and he will bring you up to the
earth, but take good care not to mount upon a black one, for he would carry
you down to the Seventh Earth."[FN#435]

The princes carried off the three fairies, and on Friday, three days
afterwards, the six bulls appeared. Badialzaman was about to mount upon a red
one, when a black one prevented him, and compelled him to mount his back, when
he plunged through the earth till he stopped at a large town in another world.
He entered the town, and took up his abode with an old woman, to whom he gave
a piece of gold to provide him with something to eat, for he was almost
famished. When he had eaten enough, he asked for something to drink. "You
cannot be a native of this country," said the old woman ["or you would not ask
for drink"]. She then brought him a sponge, saying that she had no other
water. She then informed him that the town was supplied with water from a very
copious spring, the flow of which was interrupted by a monster. They were
obliged to offer up a girl to be devoured by it on every Friday. To-day the
princess, the Sultan's daughter, was to be given up to him, and while the
monster emerged from his lair to devour her, enough water would flow for
everyone to supply himself until the following Friday.

Badialzaman then requested the old woman to show him the way to the place
where the princess was already exposed; but she was so much afraid that he had
much trouble in persuading her to come out of her house to show him what
direction to take. He went out of the town, and went on till he saw the
princess, who made a sign to him from a distance to approach no nearer; and
the nearer he came, the more anxiety she displayed. As soon as he was within
hearing, he shouted to her not to be afraid; and he sat down beside her, and
fell asleep, after having begged her to wake him as soon as the monster
appeared. Presently a tear from the princess fell upon his face, and he woke
up, and saw the monster, which he slew with the sword of Morhagian, and the
water flowed in abundance The princess thanked her deliverer, and begged him
to take her back to the Sultan her father, who would give proofs of his
gratitude; but he excused himself. She then marked his shoulder with the blood
of the monster without his noticing it. The princess then returned to the
town, and was led back to the palace, where she related to the Sultan [all
that had happened]. Then the Sultan commanded that all the men in the town
should pass before himself and the princess under pain of death. Badialzaman
tried to conceal himself in a khan, but he was compelled to come with the
others. The princess recognised him, and threw an apple at him to point him
out. He was seized, and brought before the Sultan, who demanded what he could
do to serve him. The prince hesitated, but at length he requested the Sultan
to show him the way to return to the world from whence he came. The Sultan was
furious, and would have ordered him to be burned as a heretic [but the
princess interceded for his life]. The Sultan then treated him as a madman,
and drove him ignominiously from the town, and he wandered away without
knowing where he was going. At length he arrived at a mountain of rock, where
he saw a great serpent rising from his lair to prey on young Rokhs. He slew
the serpent with the sword of Morhagian, and the father and mother of the
Rokhs arrived at the moment, and asked him to demand whatever he desired in
return. He hesitated awhile, but at length he asked them to show him the way
to the upper world. The male Rokh then told him to prepare ten quarters of
mutton, to mount on his back, and to give him some of the meat whenever he
should turn his head either to one side or to the other on the journey.

The prince mounted on the back of the Rokh, the Rokh stamped with his foot,
and the earth opened before them wherever he turned. They reached the bottom
of the well when the Rokh turned his head, but there was no more meat left, so
the prince cut off the calf of his leg and gave it to him. When the Rokh
arrived at the top of the well, the prince leaped to the ground, when the Rokh
perceived [that he was lame, when he inquired the reason, and the prince
explained what had happened]. The Rokh then disgorged the calf of the leg, and
returned it to its place, when it grew fast, and the prince was cured

As the prince left the well, he met a peasant, and changed clothes with him,
but he kept the sword, the three balls, and the horse-hair. He went into the
town, where he took lodgings with a tailor, and kept himself in retirement.
The prince gradually rose in the tailor's esteem by letting him perceive that
he knew how to sew [and all the arts of an accomplished tailor]. Presently,
preparations were made for the wedding of Prince Rostam, and the tailor with
whom Badialzaman lodged was ordered to prepare the fairy's robes. Badialzaman,
who slept in the shop, took clothes from one of the balls similar to those
which were already far advanced, and put them in the place of the others. The
tailor was astonished [at their fine workmanship] and wished to take the
prince with him to receive a present, but he refused, alleging as an excuse
that he had so lately come to the town. When the fairies saw the clothes, they
thought it a good omen.

The wedding day arrived, and they threw the jar\xEDd[FN#436] [and practised other
martial exercises]. It was a grand festival, and all the shops were closed.
The tailor wished to take the prince to see the spectacle, but he put him off
with an excuse. However, he went to a retired part of the town, where he
struck fire with a gun,[FN#437] and burned a little of the horse hair. The
horse appeared, and he told him to bring him a complete outfit all in red, and
that he should likewise appear with trappings, jewels, &c., and a reed (jar\xEDd)
of the same colour. The prince then mounted the horse, and proceeded to the
race-course, where his appearance excited general admiration. At the close of
the sports, he cut off the head of Prince Rostam, and the horsemen pursued
him, but were unable to overtake him, and soon lost sight of him. He returned
to the shop dressed as usual before the arrival of the tailor, who related to
him what had happened, of which he pretended to be entirely ignorant. There
was a great mourning at the court; but three months afterwards, fresh robes
were ordered for the wedding of the second prince. The fairies were confirmed
in their suspicions when they saw the fresh clothes [which Badialzaman sent

On the wedding day they again assembled to throw the jar\xEDd. Prince Badialzaman
now presented himself on the white horse, robed in white, and with pearls and
jewels to match, and again he attracted general admiration. He pushed himself
into the midst of a guard of eight hundred horsemen, and slew Gaiath Eddin.
They rushed upon him, and he allowed himself to be carried before the Sultan,
who recognised him [and pronounced his decision]. "A brother who has been
abandoned to die by his brothers has a right to kill them."

After this, Prince Badialzaman espoused the youngest princess, and the two
others were given in marriage to two princes who were related to the Sultan.

     Cazotte's Continuation, and the Composite Editions of
               the Arabian Nights (Pp. 418-422).

P. 422.--There is a small Dutch work, the title of which is as follows:

Oostersche Vertellingen, uit de Duizend-en-cen-Nacht: Naar de Hoogduitsche
Bewerking van M. Claudius,[FN#438] voor de Nederlandsche Jeugduiitgegeven door
J. J. A. Gouverneur. Te Groningen, bij B. Wolters, n.d. 8vo., pp. 281, colt
front. (illustrating No. 170).

A composite juvenile edition, including Introduction (very short), and Nos.
251g, 36a 163 (complete form), 6ef, 4, 5, 1, 52, 170, 6ee, 223, 207c, 6, 194c,
206a, 204h, 2a, 174a and Introduction (a).

Derived from at least four different sources.

        Translations of the Printed Texts (Pp. 438-439).

Under this heading I have to record Sir Richard and Lady Burton's own works.

Lady Burton's Edition of her husband's Arabian Nights, translated literally
from the Arabic, prepared for household reading by Justin Huntly McCarthy,
M.P., London, Waterlow and Sons, Roy. 8vo. 6 vols.

In preparing this edition for the press, as much as possible has been
retained, both of the translation and notes; and it has not been found
necessary to omit altogether more than a very few of the least important
tales. The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:--

Vol. I. (1886), Front's piece (Portrait of Lady Burton), Preface, Translator's
Foreword Introduction 1-9 (pp. xxiii. 476).

Vol. II. (1886), Front's piece (Portrait of Sir Richard F. Burton), 9
(continued), 9a-29 (pp. ii. 526).

Vol. III. (1887), 29 (continued)-133e (pp. viii. 511).

Vol. IV. (1887), 133e (continued)-154a (pp. iv. 514).

Vol. V. (1887), 154a (continued)-163 (pp. iv. 516).

Vol. VI. (1886) [? 1888], 163 (continued)-169 (pp. ii. 486).

Also includes Terminal Essay, Index to Tales and Proper Names, Contributions
to Bibliography, as far as it relates to Galland's MS. and Translations;
Comparative Table of Tales; Opinions of the Press; and Letters from Scholars.

Supplemental Nights to the Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, with notes
anthropological and explanatory, by Richard F. Burton. Benares, printed by the
Kamashastra Society for private subscribers only. Roy. 8vo.

The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:

Vol. I. (1886) Translator's Foreword, 170-181bb.

Vol. II. (1886) 182-189. Appendix: Variants and analogues of some of the tales
in vols. i. and ii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston.

These two volumes contain the tales peculiar to the Breslau Text, and cover
the same ground as Mr. Payne's 3 vols. of "Tales from the Arabic."

Vol. III. (1887) Foreword, 191-198. Appendix: Variants and Analogues of the
Tales in the Supplemental Nights, vol. iii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston.

This volume, the bulkiest of the whole series, contains such of Galland's
tales as are not to be found in the ordinary texts of the Nights.

Vol. IV. (1887) The Translator's Foreword, 203-209; App. A. Inepti\xE6
Bodleianae; App. B., The three untranslated tales in Mr. E. J. W. Gibb's
"Forty Vezirs."

Vol. V. (1888) 210-241a, Translator's Foreword; App. i. Catalogue of Wortley
Montague Manuscript, Contents, App. ii. Notes on the Stories contained in
vols. iv. and v. of Supplemental Nights, by Mr. W. F. Kirby.

These two volumes contain tales translated from the Wortley Montague MS., used
by Jonathan Scott, and now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. The following
tales, not in our table, are added:--

Vol. IV. Story of the Limping Schoolmaster (between 204i and 204j).

How Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, and Story of the Kazi and his Slipper.
(These two tales come between 206a and 206b.)

Adventure of the Fruit-seller and the Concubine (between 207c and 207d).

Tale of the third Larrikin concerning himself (between 208 and 209).

On the other hand, a few tales in the MS. are omitted as repetitions, or as
too unimportant to be worth translating:--

Vol. VI. (1888) Translator's Foreword: 248; 246; The Linguist-Dame, the
Duenna, and the King's Son; 247; The Pleasant History of the Cock and the Fox;
History of what befel the Fowl-let with the Fowler; 249; 250.

App. i. Index to the Tales and Proper Names; ii. Alphabetical Table of the
Notes (Anthropological, &c.); iii. Notes on the Stories contained in vol. vi.
of Supplementary Nights, by W. F. Kirby; iv. Additional Notes on the
Bibliography of the Thousand and One Nights, by W. F. Kirby; v. The Biography
of the Book and the Reviewers Reviewed, Opinions of the Press.

This volume contains the originals of Chavis and Cazotte's Tales, omitting the
four doubtful ones (cf. Nights, x. App., pp. 418, 419).

            Collections of Selected Tales (P. 439).

"We have also 'Aladdin or the Wonderful Lamp,' 'Sindbad the Sailor, or the Old
Man of the Sea' and 'Ali Baba, or the Forty Thieves,' revised by M. E.
Braddon, author of 'Lady Audley's Secret,' etc. Illustrated by Gustav Dor\xE9 and
other artists. London: J. & R. Maxwell.

"Miss Braddon has contented herself with 'Englishing' the vulgar version,
whose Gallicisms are so offensive to the national ear." (Sir R. F. Burton, in

     Imitations and Miscellaneous Works Having More or less
      Connection with the Nights (Pp. 448-453). B. English
                         (Pp. 452-453).

13. History of Rhedi, the Hermit of Mount Ararat, an Oriental Tale.
By--Mackenzie, 16mo., Dublin, 1781.

I have not seen this little book.

14. Miscellanies, consisting of classical extracts, and Oriental Epilogues. By
William Beloe, F.S.A. Translator of Herodotus, &c. London, 1795.

Includes some genuine Oriental tales, such as a version of that of B\xE1sim the

15. The Orientalist, or Letters of a Rabbi, with Notes by James Noble,
Oriental Master in the Scottish Nasal and Military Academy. Edinburgh, 1831.

Noticed by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 377.

16. The Adventures of the Caliph Haroun Al-raschid. Recounted by the Author of
"Mary Powell" [Miss Manning]. 8vo., London, 1855; Arthur Hall, Virtue & Co.

17. The 1001 Days, a Companion to the Arabian Nights, with introduction by
Miss J.] Pardoe. 8vo., London 1857, woodcuts.

A miscellaneous collection partly derived from "Les Mille et un Jours" (cf.
Nights x., pp. 499, 500). I have also seen a similar miscellaneous collection
in French under the latter title. The tales in the English work are as

I.   Hassan Abdallah, or the Enchanted Keys Story of Hassan.
     Hassan Abdallah the Basket Maker.
     Hassan Abdallah the Dervise Abounader

II.  Soliman Bey and the Story Tellers
     The First Story Teller.
     The Second Story Teller.
     The Third Story Teller.

III.      Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China
     Story of Prince Al-Abbas.
     Story of Liri-in.

IV.  The Wise Dey.

V.   The Tunisian Sage.

VI.  The Nose for Gold.

VII.      The Treasures of Basra.

     History of Aboulcassem.

VIII.     The Old Camel.

IX.  The Story of Medjeddin (Grimm's "Haschem," cf. Nights, x., p. 422).

X.   King Bedreddin Lolo and his Vizier.
     Story of the Old Slippers.
     Story of Atalmulk, surnamed the Sorrowful Vizier, and the Princess
     Story of Malek and the Princess Schirine

18. The Modern Arabian Nights. By Arthur A'Beckett and Linley Sambourne.
London: Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1877, sm. 4to., with comic coloured
frontispieces and woodcuts.

Four clever satires (social and political) as follows:

1.   Alley Baber and Son, a Mock Exchange Story.
2.   Ned Redding and the Beautiful Persian.
3.   The Ride of Captain Alf Rashit to Ke-Vere-Street.
4.   Mr. O'Laddin and the Wonderful Lamp.

19. Tales of the Caliph. By Al Arawiyah, 8vo., London, T. Fisher Unwin, 1887.

Belongs to Class 5 (Imitations). Consists of fictitious adventures supposed to
have happened to Harun Al-Rashid, chiefly during his nocturnal rambles.

    Separate Editions of Single or Composite Tales (Pp. 439

P. 440.--No. 184 was published under the title of "Woman's Wit" in the
"Literary Souvenir" for 1831, pp.217-237.derived from Langles' version (Mr.
L.C. Smithers in litt.).

     Translation of Cognate Oriental Romances Illustrative
                  of the Nights (Pp. 441-443).

P. 441, No. 1. Les Mille et un Jours.

Mr. L. C. Smithers (in litt.) notes English editions published in 1781 and
1809, the latter under the title of "The Persian and Turkish Tales."

P. 443, No. 5. Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura
recueillis et traduits par J. Riviere. 12mo. Paris: Leroux. 1882.

This collection is intended to illustrate the habits and ideas of the people.
The tales are very short, and probably very much abridged, but many of them
illustrate the Nights. I may note the following tales as specially interesting
from their connection with the Nights, or with important tales in other
collections, Oriental or otherwise.

Thadhillala. A brief abstract of No. 151.

Les deux Fr\xE8res. A variant of Herodotus' Story of Rhampsinitus.

L'homme de bien et le m\xE9chant. A variant of No. 262; or Schiller's Fridolin.

Le Corbeau et l'Enfant. Here a child is stolen and a crow left in its place.

H'ab Sliman. Here an ugly girl with foul gifts is substituted for her

Le roi et son fils. Here we find the counterpart of Schaibar (from No. 197),
who, however, is a cannibal and devours everybody.

Les Enfants et la Chauve-sourie. Resembles No. 198.

Le Joueur de Flute. Resembles Grimm's story of the Jew in the Bramble-Bush.

J\xE9sus-Christ et la femme infidels (=261 b.; cf. Nights, x., p. 420).

Le Roitelet. This is the fable of the Ox and the Frog.

L'idiot et le coucou (=No. 206a).

Moh'amed teen Soltan. This is one of the class of stories known to
folk-lorists as the Punchkin series. The life of a Gh\xFAl is hidden in an egg,
the egg in a pigeon, the pigeon in a camel, and the camel in the sea.

Les deux Fr\xE8res. A Cinderella story. The slayer of a hydra is discovered by
trying on a shoe.

Les trots Fr\xE8res. Here a Gh\xFAl is killed by a single blow from a magic dagger,
which must not be repeated. (Cf. Nights, vii., p. 361.) In this story, too,
the protection of a Gh\xFAlah is secured by tasting her milk, a point which we
find in Spitta Bey's "Comes Arabes Modernes," but not in the Nights.

9. Turkish Evening Entertainments. "The Wonders of Remarkable Incidents and
the Rarities of Anecdotes," by Ahmed ibn Hemdem the Kethhoda called
"Sobailee." Translated from the Turkish by John F. Brown. 8vo., New York,

Contains a great number of tales and anecdotes, divided into 37 chapters, many
of which bear such headings as "Illustrative of intelligence and piety," "On
justice and fostering care," "Anecdotes about the Abbaside Caliphs," &c.

"A translation of the Turkish story-book, 'Aja'ib al-ma'\xE1sir wa ghar\xE1 'ib
ennaw\xE1dir,' written for Mu\xE1d the Fourth Ottoman Sultan who reigned between
1623-40. A volume of interesting anecdotes from the Arabic and Persian" (Mr.
L. C. Smithers, in litt.).

10. Contes Arabes Modernes, recueillis et traduits par Guillaume Spitta-Bey.
8vo., Leyden and Paris, 1883.

This book contains 12 orally collected tales of such great importance from a
folk-lore point of view that I have given full abstracts of all. They are
designed to illustrate the spoken Egyptian dialect, and are printed in Roman
character, with translation and glossary. The hero of nearly all the tales is
called "Mohammed l'Avis\xE9," which Mr. Sydney Hartland renders "Prudent," and
Mr. W. A. Clouston "Discreet." The original gives "Ess\xE2tir Mehammed."
(Al-Sh\xE1tir Mohammed, i.e., M. the Clever.) The frequent occurrence of the
number 39 (forty less one) may also be noted. Gh\xFAls often play the part which
we should expect Jinn to fill. The bear, which occurs in two stories, is not
an Egyptian animal. Having called attention to these general features we may
leave the tales to speak for themselves.

I. Histoire de Mohammed l'Avise.

Contains the essential features of Cazotte's story of the Maugraby (cf.
Nights, x., p 418) with interesting additions. The "Mogr\xE9bin" confers three
sons on a king and queen and claims Mohammed, the eldest and the cleverest. He
gives him a book to read during his absence of 30 days, but on the 29th day he
finds a girl hanging by her hair in the garden and she teaches him to read it,
but not to tell the magician. The latter cuts off his arm threatening to cut
off his head if he cannot read the book within another 30 days. As soon as he
is gone, Mohammed reads on his arm again with the book, and escapes with the
girl when they separate and return to their respective homes. Mohammed then
changes himself into a sheep for his mother to sell, but warns her not to sell
the cord round his neck. Next day he changes himself into a camel, forbidding
his mother to sell the bridle but she is persuaded to do so, and he falls into
the hands of the magician. But he contrives to escape in the form of a crow
and the magician pursues him for two days and nights in the form of a hawk,
when he descends into the garden of the king whose daughter he had rescued
from the magician, and changes himself into a pomegranate on a tree. The
magician asks for and receives the pomegranate, when it bursts, and the seed
containing the life of Mohammed rolls under the king's throne. The magician
changes himself into a cock, and picks up the seeds, but while he is searching
for the last, it changes into a dagger, and cuts him in two. The princess
acknowledges Mohammed as her deliverer and they are married.

II. Histoire de l'Ours de Cuisine.

This begins as a swan-maiden story.[FN#439] A king steals the feather-dress of
a bathing maiden, who will only marry him on condition that she shall tear out
the eyes of his forty women (39 white slaves and a princess). The king
answers, "C'est bien, il n'y a pas d'inconv\xE9nient." The forty blind women are
shut up in a room under the kitchen, where they give birth to children whom
they cut up and divide; but the princess saves her shares and thus preserves
her son, whom she calls "Mohammed l'Avis\xE9," and teaches to read. He steals
food from the kitchen, calling himself "Ours de Cuisine," the queen hears of
him, pretends to be ill, and demands that he shall be sent to fetch the heart
of the Bull of the Black Valley. He finds a Gh\xFAleh sitting with her breasts
thrown back on her shoulders so he tastes her milk unperceived, and she at
once adopts him as her son. She gives him a ball and a dagger, warning him
that if he strikes the bull more than once, he will sink into the earth with
him. The ball rolls before him, and when it stops, the bull rises from the
ground. Mohammed kills him, refusing to repeat the blow, returns the ball and
dagger to the Gh\xFAleh, and returns home. A few days afterwards, the queen sends
Mohammed to fetch the heart of the Bull of the Red Valley, and when he informs
the Gh\xFAleh, she says "Does she wish to kill her second brother too?" "Are
these her brothers ?" asked Mohammed. She answered, "Yes, indeed, they are the
sons of the Sultan of the J\xE1nn." He kills the Bull as before. A fortnight
afterwards, the queen hides a loaf of dry bread under her mattress. When its
cracking gives rise to the idea that she is very ill, and she complains of
great pain in the sides. She demands a pomegranate from the White Valley,
where the pomegranates grow to the weight of half a cantar.[FN#440] The Ghuleh
tells him she cannot help him, but he must wait for her son Adberrahym. When
he arrives he remarks, "Hum! mother, there's a smell of man about you, bring
him here to me to eat for breakfast." But his mother introduces Mohammed to
him as his foster brother, and he becomes friendly at once, but says that the
pomegranate is the queen's sister. He tells Mohammed to get an ardebb of small
round loaves in a basket, along with a piece of meat, and a piece of liver.
The Gh\xFAl then gives him a rod, saying, "Throw it down, and walk after it. It
will knock at the garden gate, which will open, and when you enter you will
find great dogs, but throw the bread right and left, without looking back.
Beyond a second gate you will find Gh\xFAls; throw bread to them right and left,
and after passing them, look up, and you will find a tree in a fountain
surrounded with roses and jasmine. You will see a pomegranate upon it. Gather
it, and it will thunder, but fear nothing, and go on your way directly, and do
not look behind you after passing the gate." The queen waits another
fortnight, and then demands the flying castle from Mount Kaf, intending that
her father, who dwelt there, should burn him. The Gh\xFAleh directed Mohammed to
dye himself black, and to provide himself with some mastic (ladin) and
lupines. With these, he makes friends with a black slave, who takes him into
the castle, and shows him a bottle containing the life of the queen, another
containing the eyes of the forty women; a magic sword which spares nothing,
and the ring which moves the castle. Mohammed then sees a beetle,[FN#441]
which the slave begs him not to kill, as it is his life. He watches it till it
enters a hole, and as soon as the slave is asleep, he kills it, and the slave
dies. Then he lays hands on the talismans, rushes into the room where the
inhabitants of the castle are condoling with the king and queen on the loss of
their three children, and draws the sword, saying "Strike right and left, and
spare neither great nor small." Having slain all in the castle, Mohammed
removes it to his father's palace, when his father orders the cannons to be
fired. Then Mohammed tells his father his history, compels the queen to
restore the eyes of the forty women, when they become prettier than before,
and then gives her the flask containing her life. But she drops it in her
fright, and her life ends, and the king places Mohammed on the throne.

III.--Histoire de la Dame des Arabes Jasmin.

A king sends his wazir to obtain a talisman of good luck, which is written for
him by Jasmine, the daughter of an Arab Sheikh. The king marries her, although
she demands to be weighed against gold, but drives her away for kissing a
fisherman in return for a bottle which he has drawn out of the river for her.
She goes two days' journey to a town, where she takes up her abode with a
merchant, and then discovers that whenever she turns the stopper of the
bottle, food, drink, and finally ten white dancing girls emerge from it. The
girls dance, each throws her ten purses of money, and then they retire into
the bottle. She builds herself a grand palace, where her husband seeks her,
and seeing the new palace, orders that no lights shall be lit in the town that
night. She lights up her palace, which convinces the king that he has a
dangerous rival. Then the wazir and the king visit her; the king asks for the
bottle, and she demands more than a kiss, then reveals herself, puts the king
to shame, and they are reconciled.

IV.--Histoire du P\xE9cheur et de son Fils.

A king falls in love with the wife of a fisherman, and the wazir advises the
former to require the fisherman on pain of death to furnish a large hall with
a carpet in a single piece. The fisherman's wife sends him to the well of
Shoubrah where he exclaims, "O such-and-such-a-one, thy sister so-and-so
salutes thee, and asks thee to send her the spindle which she forgot when she
was with thee yesterday, for we want to furnish a room with it." The fisherman
drives a nail into the floor at one end of the room, fixes the thread on the
spindle to it, and draws out a wonderful carpet. Then the wazir demands a
little boy eight days old, who shall tell a story of which the beginning shall
be a lie and the end a lie. The fisherman is sent to the well with the
message, "O such-and-such-a-one, thy sister so-and-so greets thee, and
requests thee to give her the child which she brought into the world
yesterday." But the child only cries until three gnats are applied to him, one
on each side and one on the back. Then the boy speaks, saying, "Peace be on
thee, O king!" and afterwards tells his lying story: "When I was in the flower
of my youth, I walked out of the town one day into the fields when it was very
hot, I met a melon-seller, I bought a melon for a mahboub, took it, cut out a
piece, and looked inside, when I saw a town with a grand hall, when I raised
my feet and stepped into the melon. Then I walked about to look at the people
of the town inside the melon. I walked on till I came out of the town into the
country. There I saw a date-tree bearing dates a yard long. I wished for some,
and climbed the date-tree to gather a date and eat it. There I found peasants
sowing and reaping on the date-tree, and the threshing wheels were turning to
thresh the wheat. I walked on a little, and met a man who was beating eggs to
make a poultry yard. I looked on, and saw the chickens hatch; the cocks went
to one side and the hens to the other. I stayed near them till they grew up,
when I married them to each other, and went on. Presently I met a donkey
carrying sesame-cakes, so I cut off a piece and ate it. When I had eaten it, I
looked up, and found myself outside the melon, and the melon became whole as
it was at first." Then the child rebukes and threatens the king and the wazir
and the fisherman's wife sends her husband to take the child back to the well.

The fisherman had a son named Mohammed l'Avis\xE9 (Al-Shat\xEDr), who was as
handsome as his mother; but the king had a son whose complexion was like that
of a Fellah. The boys went to school together, and the prince used to say,
"Good day, fisherman's son," and Mohammed used to reply, "Good day, O son of
the king, looking like a shoe-string." The prince complained to his father,
who ordered the schoolmaster to kill Mohammed and he bastinadoed him severely.
The boy went to his father, and turned fisherman. On the first day he caught a
mullet (Fr. rouget), and was about to fry it, when it cried out that it was
one of the princesses of the river, and he threw it back. Then the wazir
advised the king to send Mohammed to fetch the daughter of the king of the
Green Country, seven years journey distant. By the advice of the fish,
Mohammed asked the king for a golden galley; and on reaching the Green
Country, invited the inhabitants to inspect his galley. At last the princess
came down, and he carried her off. When she found she was entrapped she threw
her ring into the sea, which the fish caught. When the king proposed to the
princess, she first demanded her ring, which Mohammed immediately presented to
the king. Then she said it was the custom of her country on the occasion of a
marriage to dig a trench from the palace to the river, which was filled with
wood, and set on fire. The bridegroom was required to walk through the trench
to the river. The wazir proposed that Mohammed should walk through the trench
first; and by the fish's advice, he stopped his ears, cried out, "In the name
of God, the Compassioning, the Merciful," threw himself into the trench, and
returned from the river handsomer than before. So the wazir said to the king,
"Send for your son to go with us, that he may become as handsome as Mohammed."
So the three threw themselves into the fire, and were burned to ashes, and
Mohammed married the princess.

V.--Histoire de Dal\xE2l.

Dalal was a little girl, the daughter of a king, who found a louse on her
head, and put it into a jar of oil, where it remained till Dalal was twenty
years old, when it burst the jar, and emerged in the form of a horned buffalo.
The king ordered the hide to be hung at the gate of the palace, and proclaimed
that anyone who could discover what the skin was should marry his daughter,
but whoever tried and failed should lose his head. Thirty-nine suitors thus
perished, when a Ghul passed by in the form of a man, who knew the secret. He
took Dalal home with him and brought her a man's head, but as she would not
eat it, he brought her a sheep. He then visited her under the forms of her
mother and her two aunts, and told her that her husband was a Ghul; but she
refused to believe it until the third visit. Then he was angry; but she begged
him to let her go to the bath before she was eaten. He consented, took her to
a bath, and sat at the door; but she rubbed herself with mud, changed clothes
with an old lupine-seller, and escaped for a time. She reached a palace which
she would not enter until she was invited by the Prince himself, who then
proposed to marry her, but on the wedding day, her husband, having tracked her
out, contrived that another Gh\xFAl in the form of a man should present him to
the king in the form of a sheep, pretending that he had been reared in a
harem, and would bleat so loud that nobody could sleep, unless he was tethered
in the women's apartments. At night the Gh\xFAl carried off Dalal from beside the
prince to the adjoining room, but she begged to be allowed to retire for a few
moments, when she called upon Saint Zaynab for help, who sent one of her
sisters (?) a Jinniyah. She clove the wall, and asked Dalal to promise to give
her her first child. She then gave her a piece of wood to throw into the mouth
of the Gh\xFAl when he opened his mouth to eat her.[FN#442] He fell on the ground
senseless, and Dalal woke up the prince who slew him. But when Dalal brought
forth a daughter whom she gave to the Jinniyah, her mother-in law declared
that Dalal herself was a Ghuleh, and she was banished to the kitchen, where
she peeled onions for ten years. At the end of this time the Jinniyah again
clove the wall, and brought back the young princess, who was introduced to her
father, who took Dalal again into favour. Meantime the sultan of the Jinn sent
for the Jinniyah, for his son was ill, and could only be cured by a cup of
water from the Sea of Emeralds, and this could only be obtained by a daughter
of mankind. So the Jinniyah borrowed Dalal's daughter again, and took her to
the sultan, who gave her a cup, and mounted her on a Jinni, warning her not to
wet her fingers. But a wave touched the hand of the princess, which turned as
green as clover. Every morning the Sea of Emerald is weighed by an officer to
discover whether any has been stolen; and as soon as he discovered the
deficiency, he took a platter of glass rings and bracelets, and went from
palace to palace calling out, "Glass bracelets and rings, O young ladies."
When he came to Dalal's palace, the young princess was looking out of the
window, and insisted on going herself to try them on. She hesitated to show
her right hand; and the spy knew that she was guilty, so he seized her hand,
and sunk into the ground with her. He delivered her over to the servants of
the King of the Sea of Emerald, who would have beaten her, but the Jinn
surrounded her, and prevented them. Then the King of the Sea of Emerald
ordered her to be taken, bound into the bath, saying that he would follow in
the form of a serpent, and devour her. But she recognised him by his green
eyes, when he became a man, ordered her to be restored to her father, and
afterwards married her. He gave forty camel loads of emeralds and jacinths as
her dowry, and always visited her by night in the form of a winged serpent,
entering and leaving by the window.

VI.--Histoire de la fille vertueuse.

A merchant and his wife set out to the Hejaz with their son, leaving their
daughter to keep house, and commending her to the protection of the Kazi. The
Kazi fell in love with the girl, but as she would not admit him, he employed
an old woman to entice her to the bath, but the girl threw soap in his eyes,
pushed him down and broke his head, and escaped to her own house, carrying off
his clothes. When the Kazi was well enough to get about again he found that
she had had the door of her house walled up until the return of her friends,
so he wrote a slanderous letter to her father, who sent her brother to kill
her, and bring him a bottle of her blood. But her brother, although he thought
the walling up of the door was a mere presence, could not find it in his heart
to kill her, but abandoned her in the desert, and filled the bottle with
gazelle blood. When the young girl awoke, she wandered to a spring, and
climbed into a tree where a prince who was passing saw her, carried her home,
and married her. She had two sons and a daughter, but one of their playmates
refused to play with them because they had no maternal uncle. The king then
ordered the wazir to escort the princess and her three children to her
father's village for a month; but on the road, the wazir made love to her, and
she allowed him to kill children in succession to save her honour. At last, he
became so pressing that she pretended to consent, but asked to quit the tent
for a moment, with a cord attached to her hand to prevent her escape. But she
untied the cord, fastened it to a tree, and fled. As they could not find the
princess, the wazir advised the soldiers to tell the king that a Gh\xFAleh had
devoured the children, and fled into the desert. The princess changed clothes
with a shepherd boy, went to a town, and took a situation in a caf\xE9. When the
wazir returned to the king, and delivered his report, the king proposed that
they should disguise themselves and set out in search of the princess and her
children; and the wazir could not refuse. Meantime, the brother of the
princess had admitted to her father that he had not slain her, and they also
set out in search of her, taking the Kazi with them. They all met at the caf\xE9,
where she recognised them, and offered to tell them a story. She related her
own, and was restored to her friends. They seized the Kazi and the wazir, and
sent for the old woman, when they burned them all three, and scattered their
ashes in the air.

VII.--Histoire du prince qui apprit un m\xE9tier.

A prince named Mohammed l'Avis\xE9 went to seek a wife, and fell in love with the
daughter of a leek-grower. She would not accept him unless he learned a trade,
so he learned the trade of a silk weaver, who taught him in five minutes, and
he worked a handkerchief with the palace of his father embroidered upon it.
Two years afterwards, the prince and the wazir took a walk, when they found a
Maghrabi seated at the gate of the town, who invited them to take coffee. But
he was a prisoner (or rather a murderer) who imprisoned them behind seven
doors; and after three days he cooked the wazir, and was going to cook the
prince, but he persuaded him to take his handkerchief to market where it was
recognised, and the prince released from his peril. Two years later the king
died, and the prince succeeded to the throne. The latter had a son and
daughter, but he died when the boy was six and the girl eight, warning the boy
not to marry until the girl was married, lest his wife should ill-use her.
After two years the sister said, "Brother, if I show you the treasures of your
father and mother, what will you do?" He answered, "I will buy a slipper for
you and a slipper for me, and we will play with them among the stones." "No,"
said she, "you are still too little," and waited a year before she asked him
again. This time he answered, "I will buy a tambourine for you, and a flute
for myself and we will play in the street." She waited two more years, and
this time he answered, "We will use them to repair the water-wheels and my
father's palaces, and we will sow and reap." "Now you are big," said she, and
gave him the treasures, which he used to erect buildings in his father's
country. Soon afterwards, an old woman persuaded the youth to marry her
daughter; but she herself went into the mountains, collected eggs of the bird
Oumbar, which make virgins pregnant if they eat them, and gave them to the
sister. The old woman reported the result to the king, who visited his sister
to satisfy himself of the truth of the matter, and then left her, but sent her
food by a slave. When the sister's time came, four angels descended from
heaven, and took her daughter, bringing the child to her mother to be nursed.
The mother died of grief, and the angels washed and shrouded her and wept over
her; and when the king heard it, he opened the door, and the angels flew away
to heaven with the child. The king ordered a tomb to be built in the palace
for his sister, and was so much grieved at her death that he went on
pilgrimage. When he had been gone some time, and the time of his return
approached, the old woman opened the sister's tomb, intending to throw her
body to the dogs to devour, and to put the carcase of a sheep in its place.
The angels put the child in the tomb, and she reproached and threatened the
old woman; who, however, seized upon her and dyed her black, pretending that
she was a little black slave whom she had bought. When the king returned, he
pitied her, and called her to sit by him, but she asked for a candle and
candlestick to hold in her hand before all the company. Then she told her
mother's story, saying to the candle at every word, "Gutter for kings; this is
my uncle, the chief of kings." Then the candle threw mahboubs on her uncle's
knees. When the story was ended the king ordered proclamation to be made, "Let
whosoever loves the Prophet and the Elect, bring wood and fire." The people
obeyed, and the old woman and her daughter were burned.

VIII.--Histoire du Prince Amoureux.

A woman prayed to God to give her a daughter, even if she should die of the
smell of flax. When the girl was ten years old, the king's son passed through
the street, saw her at the window, and fell in love with her. An old woman
discovered that he loved Sittoukan, the daughter of a merchant, and promised
to obtain her. She contrived to set her to spin flax, when a splinter ran
under her nail, and she fainted. The old woman persuaded her father and mother
to build a palace in the midst of the river, and to lay her there on a bed.
Thither she took the prince, who turned the body about, saw the splinter, drew
it out, and the girl awoke. He remained with her forty days, when he went down
to the door, where he found the wazir waiting, and they entered the garden.
There they found roses and jasmines, and the prince said, "The jasmines are as
white as Sittoukan, and the roses are like her cheeks; if you did not approve,
I would still remain with her, were it only for three days." He went up again
for three days, and when he next visited the wazir, they saw a carob-tree, and
the prince said, "Remember, wazir, the carob-tree is like the eyebrows of
Sittoukan, and if you would not let me, I would still remain with her, were it
only for three days." Three days later, they saw a fountain, when the prince
observed that it was like the form of Sittoukan, and he returned. But this
time, she was curious to know why he always went and returned, and he found
her watching behind the door, so he spat on her saying, "If you did not love
men, you would not hide behind doors"; and he left her. She wandered into the
garden in her grief, where she found the ring of empire, which she rubbed, and
the ring said, "At your orders, what do you ask for ?" She asked for increased
beauty, and a palace beside that of the prince. The prince fell in love with
her, and sent his mother to propose for her hand. The mother took two pieces
of royal brocade as a present, which the young lady ordered a slave in her
hearing to cut up for dusters. Then the mother brought her an emerald collar
worth four thousand diners, when she ordered it to be threshed, and thrown to
the pigeons. The old lady acknowledged herself beaten, and asked Sittoukan if
she wished to marry or not. The latter demanded that the prince should be
wrapped in seven shrouds, and carried to the palace which she indicated, as if
he were dead. Then she went and took off the shrouds one after another, and
when she came to the seventh, she spat on him, saying, "If you did not love
women, you would not be wrapped in seven shrouds." Then he said, "Is it you?"
and he bit his finger till he bit it off, and they remained together.

IX.--Histoire du musician ambulant et de son fils.

This travelling musician was so poor that when his wife was confined, he went
out to beg for their immediate necessities, and found a hen lying on the
ground with an egg under her. He met a Jew to whom he sold the egg for twenty
mahboubs. The hen laid an egg every day, which the Jew bought for twenty
mahboubs, and the musician became rich and opened a merchant's shop. When his
son was grown, he built a school for him at his own expense, where poor
children were taught to read. Then the musician set out on pilgrimage,
charging his wife not to let the Jew trick her out of the hen. A fortnight
afterwards, the Jew called, and persuaded the woman to sell him the hen for a
casket of silver. He ordered her to cook it, but told her that if anybody else
ate a piece, he would rip him up. The musician's son came in, while the fowl
was cooking, and as his mother would not give him any, he seized the gizzard,
and ate it, when one of the slaves warned him to fly before the arrival of the
Jew. The Jew pursued the boy, and would have killed him, but the latter took
him up with one hand, and dashed him to pieces on the ground. The musician's
son continued his journey, and arrived at a town where thirty-nine heads of
suitors who had failed to conquer the princess in wrestling, were suspended at
the gate of the palace. On the first day the youth wrestled with the princess
for two hours without either being able to overcome the other; but during the
night the king ordered the doctors to drug the successful suitor, and to steal
the talisman. Next morning when the youth awoke, he perceived his weakness,
and fled. Presently he met three men quarrelling over a flying carpet, a
food-producing cup, and a money mill. He threw a stone for them to run after
and transported himself to Mount Kaf, where he made trial of the other
talismans. Then he returned to the palace, called to the princess to come down
to wrestle with him, and as soon as she stepped on the carpet, carried her
away to Mount Kaf, when she promised to restore the gizzard, and to marry him.
She deserted him, and he found two date-trees, one bearing red and the other
yellow dates. On eating a yellow date, a horn grew from his head[FN#443] and
twisted round the two date-trees. A red date removed it. He filled his
pockets, and travelled night and day for two months.[FN#444] He cried dates
out of season, and the princess bought sixteen yellow ones, and ate them all;
and eight [sixteen ?] horns grew from her head, four to each wall. They could
not be sawn off, and the king offered his daughter to whoever could remove
them. When the musician's son married the princess, and became wazir, he said
to his bride, "Where is my carpet, &c." She replied, "Is it you?" "Yes," said
he, "Is my trick or yours the best?" She admitted that she was beaten, and
they lived together in harmony.

X.--Histoire du rossignol chanteur.

Three brothers built a palace for their mother and sister after their father's
death. The sister loved someone of whom the brothers disapproved. An old woman
advised the sister to send her brothers for the singing nightingale. The two
eldest would not wait till the bird was asleep, but while they were trying to
shut his cage, he dusted sand over them with his claws, and sunk them to the
seventh earth. The beads and the ring gave warning of their deaths at home;
but the third, who left a rose with his mother, to fade if he died captured
the bird, and received sand from under the cage. When he scattered it on the
ground, more than a thousand men rose up, some negroes and some Turks. The
brothers were not among them, so the youngest was told to scatter white sand,
when 500 more people emerged, including the brothers. Afterwards the eldest
brother was sitting in his ship when a Maghrebi told him to clean his turban;
which his mother interpreted to mean that his sister had misconducted herself,
and he should kill her. He refused, and fled with her to the desert. Hearing
voices, he entered a cave where thirty nine robbers were dividing rations; and
he contrived to appropriate a share, and then to return it when missed; but as
he was detected, he gave himself out as a fellow-robber, engaged himself to
them, and watching his opportunity, slew them. Afterwards he brought his
sister two young lions. She found a wounded negro in the cave, whom she
nursed, and after having had two children by him, plotted against her brother.
She pretended to be ill, and sent him to find the grapes of Paradise. He met a
Gh\xFAleh who gave him a ball which directed him to Paradise, and he returned
safely. Then his sister sent him for the Water of Life when the two young
lions followed him, and he could not drive them back. After travelling for a
year the brother reached the Sea of the Water of Life, and while resting under
a tree heard two pigeons telling each other that the king's daughter was ill,
and every doctor who failed to restore her was put to death, and she could
only be cured by the Water of Life. "Mohammed l'Avis\xE9" filled two bottles and
a jar with the water, cured the princess with the water in the jar, married
her, and after forty days, gave her one bottle, and set out to visit his
family. At the sister's instigation, the negro slew Mohammed, cut him to
pieces, and put the remains into a sack, which they loaded on the ass. Then
the lions drove the ass to the wife of Mohammed, who restored his life with
the water which he had left with her. Mohammed then shut up the lions, dressed
himself as a negro, and went to visit his sister, taking with him some rings
and mastic (ladin). His sister recognised his eyes, and while she and the
negro were disputing, Mohammed slew the negro and the three [sic] children,
and buried his sister alive. He then returned to his wife, announced that his
relations were dead, and asked for a hundred camels; and it took them a week
to convey away the treasures of the robbers.

XI .--Histoire d' Arab-Zandyq.

This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 411,
and need not be repeated here.

XII.--Histoire du prince et de son cheval.

A prince and foal were born at the same time, and some time afterwards the
mother and the mare died. The king married again, and the new queen had an
intrigue with a Jew. They plotted to poison the prince, but his horse wept and
warned him. Then the queen pretended to be ill, and asked for the heart of the
horse, but the prince fled to another kingdom, and bought clothes from a poor
man, packing his own on his horse. Then he parted from the horse, who gave him
a hair and a flint, telling him to light the hair when ever he needed him. The
prince then went to a town, and engaged himself as under gardener to the king.
He was set to drive the ox which turned the water-wheel, but one day he called
his horse, put on his own clothes, and galloped about the garden, where the
youngest princess saw "Mohammed l'Avis\xE9" from the window, and fell in love
with him. He then returned to the water-wheel, and when the head-gardener
returned and found the garden in disorder, he wanted to beat him; but the
princess interfered and ordered the prince to receive a fowl and a cake of
bread every day. The princess then persuaded her mother and sisters that it
was time to be married, so the king ordered everybody to pass under the window
of the seven princesses, each of whom threw down a handkerchief on the man of
her choice. But the youngest would look at no one till at last they fetched
the gardener's boy, when the king was angry, and confined them in a room. The
king fell ill with vexation, and the doctors ordered him to drink bear's milk
in the hide of a virgin bear. The king's six sons-in-law were ordered to seek
it, and Mohammed too set forth mounted on a lame mare, while the people jeered
him. Presently he summoned his own horse, and ordered him to pitch a camp of
which the beginning and the end could not be seen, and which should contain
nothing but bears. When the six sons-in-law passed, they dismounted, and asked
the attendants for what they required, but they referred them to their king.
The latter offered them what they asked, but branded a ring and a circle on
the back of each of the sons-in-law. However, he gave them only the milk and
hide of old she-bears, while he himself took the milk of a virgin[FN#445] bear
that had just cubbed for the first time, slaughtered it, put the milk into the
skin, and then remounted his lame mare, saying to the horse, "God reward you."
He returned to town, and gave the milk to his wife who took it to her mother.
Then the six sons-in-law brought the milk to the doctors, but when they looked
at it, they said, "This is the milk of an old she-bear and is good for
nothing." Then they gave the king the other milk, and cured him, but he was
much annoyed to hear who had brought it. Soon afterwards a war broke out, and
the king pitched his camp outside the town in face of the enemy. Mohammed set
out again on his lame mare, the people shouting after him, "Go back, sir, for
the soldiers have been defeated." Then he summoned his horse, put on his own
clothes, and said to the horse, "Let your hair shoot forth fire." Then he came
before the king, saying, "I declare for you and your six sons-in-law." He
rushed into battle, smiting with his sword, while his horse shot forth fire.
They slew a third of the enemy, and then disappeared, while the king lamented.
"Ah, if my six sons-in-law had only done this!" After his exertions Mohammed
was tired, and went home to sleep. Next day the same thing happened, but the
king put his own ring on his finger. On the third day he slew the remaining
third of his enemies, but his arm was wounded, and the king bound it up with
his own handkerchief before he departed.

The king gathered together the horses and the spoil, and returned to town,
much vexed that his sons-in-law had done nothing. Then the youngest princess
asked her mother to send for her father to look at the ring and the
handkerchief, when he fell down and kissed the feet of Mohammed, who rose up
giddy from sleep, but when he was asked his history, he answered, "I am a
prince like yourself, and your six sons-in-law are mamelouks of my father. I
beat them, and they took to flight, and through fear of my father, I set out
in search of them. I came here and found that they were your sons-in-law, but
I imposed silence on them. But as regards your daughter, she saw me in the
garden, and recognised my real rank; here is your daughter, O king; she is
still a virgin." Then the wedding was celebrated with great pomp, and Mohammed
remained with his father-in-law for some time, until he desired to return to
his own country. On his arrival he found that his father had died, so he
ascended the throne, and ordered his mother-in-law and the Jew to be burned.

Carlo de Landberg, B\xE1sim le Forgeron et Haron Er-Rachid, 8vo., Leyden, 1888.

Text and translation of a modern Arabic story of an unfortunate smith and
hashish-eater whom Harun encounters on one of his usual nocturnal rambles.
Harun plays a succession of practical jokes on him, driving him out of his
employment every day, and supping with him every night. At last he bastinadoes
him, and throws him into prison, where a jinniyah takes pity on him, and
confers unlimited power on him, which he enjoys for a week, and then dies, to
the great grief of Harun.

        Additional Note to Suppl. Vol. V. (Pp. 318-320).

Compare Boccaccio's story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 11).

                   The Biography of the Book


                    Its Reviewers Reviewed.

[" It has occurred to me that perhaps it would be a good plan to
put a set of notes . . . to the 'Origin,' which now has none,
exclusively devoted to the errors of my reviewers. It has
occurred to me that where a reviewer has erred a common reader
might err. Secondly, it will show the reader that we must not
trust implicitly to reviewers."--DARWIN'S LIFE. ii. 349.]


The Thousand Nights and a Night.

     Athwart the welkin slant the snows and pile
          On sill and balcony, their feathery feet
          Trip o'er the landscape, and pursuing sleet
     Earth's brow beglooming, robs the skies of smile:
     Lies in her mourning-shroud our Northern Isle
          And bitter winds in battle o'er her meet.
          Her world is death-like, when behold! we greet
     Light-gleams from morning-land in welcome while.

     A light of golden mine and orient pearl--
          Vistas of fairy-land, where Beauty reigns
               And Valiance revels; cloudless moon, fierce sun,
     The wold, the palm-tree; cities; hosts; a whirl
          Of life in tents and palaces and fanes:
               The light that streams from THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE.

Isabel Burton,
Tangier, Marocco: Feb. 19, 1886.

                   The Biography of the Book
                    Its Reviewers Reviewed.


I here propose to produce what may be called the "biography" of a book
whereof, methinks, the writer has some reason to be proud, a work which, after
occupying him for the third of a century, well nigh half the life of average
man and the normal endurance of a generation, can show for result these
sixteen volumes. A labour of such parts and magnitude deserves, in my humble
opinion, some notice of the main features distinguishing its career,
especially of its presentation to Court (Public Opinion) and its reception by
the high officials of the Palace, the critics, reviewers and criticasters.

And there is yet another consideration. To ignore the charges and criminations
brought forward by certain literary Sir Oracles would be wilfully suffering
judgment to go by default. However unpopular and despised may be, as a rule,
the criticism of critique, and however veridical the famous apothegm "A
controversy in the Press with the Press is the controversy of a fly with a
spider," I hold it the author's bounder duty, in presence of the Great Public,
to put forth his reply, if he have any satisfactory and interesting rejoinder,
and by such ordeal to purge himself and prove his innocence unless he would
incur wittingly impeachment for contumacy and contempt of court.

It is not only an instinct of human nature expressed by nemo me impur\xE8
lacessit which impels to answering in presence of the passers by the enemy at
the gate; it is also a debt which his honour and a respectful regard for the
good opinion of his fellows compel the author to repay. The man who is feeble
enough silently to suffer detraction and calumny at the hands of some sciolist
or Halb-bildung sheltering his miserable individuality under the shadow (may
it never be less!) of " King We," simply sins against himself as the Arabs say
and offends good manners by holding out a premium to wanton aggression and
injurious doing. The reading world has a right to hear the alteram partem
before it shall deliver that judgment and shall pronounce that sentence
wherefrom lies no appeal. To ignore and not to visit with repr\xE9sailles
unworthy and calumnious censure, may become that ideal and transcendental man
who forgives (for a personal and egoistical reason) those who trespass against
him. But the sublime doctrine which commands us to love our enemies and affect
those who despitefully entreat us is in perilous proximity to the ridiculous;
at any rate it is a vain and futile rule of life which the general never
thinks of obeying. It contrasts poorly with the common sense of the
pagan--Fiat Justitia, ruat c\x9Clum; and the heathenish and old- Adamical
sentiment of the clansman anent Roderick Dhu--

     "Who rights his wrong where it was given
     If it were in the court of Heaven,"

L. of the Lake, v. 6.

--commends itself far more to what divines are pleased to call "fallen human
nature" that is the natural man.

And here before crossing the threshold, I would seize the opportunity of
expressing my cordial gratitude and hearty thanks to the Press in general,
which has received my Eastern studies and contributions to Oriental knowledge
in the friendliest and most sympathetic spirit, appreciating my labours far
beyond the modicum of the offerer's expectation and lending potent and
generous aid to place them before the English world in the fairest and most
favourable point of view. To number a small proportion of "black sheep" is no
shame for a flock amounting to myriads: such exceptional varieties must be
bred for the use and delectation of those who prefer to right wrong and
darkness to light. It is with these only that my remarks and retorts will deal
and consequently I have assigned to them the post of honour. The various
extracts from notices, favourable appreciative and complimentary, appear as
the "Opinions of the Press" at the end of this volume, and again I take the
opportunity of professing myself truly thankful for the good word of the
Fourth Estate, and for its wisely detecting the soul of good in things evil.

The romantic and exceptional circumstances under which my large labour was
projected and determined have been sufficiently described in the Foreword
(vol. i. pp. vii- x). I may here add that during a longsome obligatory halt of
some two months at East African Zayla' and throughout a difficult and
dangerous march across the murderous Somali country upon Harar-Gay, then the
Tinbukht\xFA of Eastern Africa, The Nights rendered me the best of service. The
wildlings listened with the rapt attention of little lads and lasses to the
marvellous recitals of the charming Queen and the monotonous interpellations
of her lay-image sister and looked forward to the evening lecture as the crown
and guerdon of the toilsome day. And assuredly never was there a more suitable
setting, a more admirable mise-en-sc\xE8ne for The Nights than the landscape of
Somali-land, a prospect so adapted to their subject-matter that it lent
credibility even to details the least credible. Barren and grisly for the most
part, without any of the charms gladdening and beautifying the normal
prospects of earth, grassy hill and wooded dale, park-like plain and placid
lake, and the snaking of silvery stream, it displays ever and anon beauties
made all its own by borrowing from the heavens, in an atmosphere of passing
transparency, reflections of magical splendours and of weird shadows proper to
tropical skies. No rose-hue pinker than the virginal blush and dewy flush of
dawn in contrast with the shivering reek of flaming noon-tide, when all
brightness of colour seems burnt out of the world by the white heat of
sun-glow. No brilliancy more gorgeous or more ravishing than the play of light
and shade, the rainbow shiftings and the fiery pinks and purples and embers
and carmines of the sunset scenery--the gorgeous death-bed of the Day. No tint
more tender, more restful, than the uniform grey, pale and pearly, invading by
slowest progress that ocean of crimson that girds the orb of the Sun-King,
diminishing it to a lakelet of fire and finally quenching it in iridescent
haze. No gloom more ghostly than the murky hangings drooping like curtains
from the violet heavens during those traveller's trials the unmoored nights,
when the world seems peopled by weird phantoms and phantasms of man and
monster moving and at rest. No verdure more exquisite than earth's glazing of
greenery, the blend of ethereal azure and yellow; no gold more sheeny than the
foregrounds of sand shimmering in the slant of the sun; no blue more profound
and transparent than the middle distances; no neutral tints more subtle, pure,
delicate and sight-soothing than the French grey which robes the clear-cut
horizon; no variety of landscape more pronounced than the alternations of
glowing sunlight and snowy moonlight and twinkling starlight, all streaming
through diaphanous air. No contrast more admirable than the alternation of
iron upland whereupon hardly a blade of grass may grow and the Wady with its
double avenue of leek-green tamarisks, hedging now a furious rain-torrent then
a ribbon of purest sand, or the purple-gray shadow rising majestic in the
Orient to face the mysterious Zodiacal Light, a white pyramid whose base is
Amenti--region of resting Osiris--and whose apex pierces the zenith. And not
rarely this "after-glow" is followed by a blush of "celestial rosy-red"
mantling the whole circle of the horizon where the hue is deepest and paling
into the upper azure where the stars shine their brightest. How often in
Somali land I repeated to myself

               --Contente-vous, mes yeux,
     Jamais vous ne verrez chose plus belle;

and the picture still haunts me.

                   *    *    *    *    *    *

And now, turning away from these and similar pleasures of memory, and passing
over the once told tale (Foreword, vol. i. pp. viii., ix.) of how, when and
where work was begun, together with the disappointment caused by the death of
my friend and collaborator, Steinhaeuser concerning the copying process which
commenced in 1879 and anent the precedence willingly accorded to the "Villon
Edition," I proceed directly to what may be termed

                  The Engineering of the Work.

During the autumn of '82, after my return from the Gold Coast (with less than
no share of the noble metal which my companion Cameron and I went forth to
find and found a failure), my task began in all possible earnest with ordering
the old scraps of translation and collating a vast heterogeneous collection of
notes. I was fortunate enough to discover at unlettered Trieste, an excellent
copyist able and willing to decypher a crabbed hand and deft at reproducing
facetious and drolatic words without thoroughly comprehending their
significance. At first my exertions were but fitful and the scene was mostly a
sick bed to which I was bound between October '83 and June '84. Marienbad,
however, and Styrian Sauerbrunn (bed Rohitsch) set me right and on return to
Trieste (Sept. 4, '84), we applied ourselves to the task of advertising, the
first two volumes being almost ready for print.

And here we were confronted by a serious question, What number of copies would
suffice my public? A distinguished Professor who had published some 160,000
texts with prices ranging from 6d. to 50 guineas, wrote to me in all kindness
advising an issue of 150 to 250: an eminent printer-publisher would have
ventured upon some 500: others rose to 750 with a warning-note anent
"wreckage," great risk and ruinous expenditure, while only one friend--and he
not in business--urged an edition of 2,000 to 3,000 with encouraging words as
to its probable reception. After long forethought I chose 1,000 as a just

We then drew up a long list, names of friends, acquaintances and strangers
likely to patronise the novelty, and caused the following three papers to be
lithographed and printed at Trieste.

                             No. I.

Captain Burton, having neither agent nor publisher for his forthcoming ARABIAN
NIGHTS, requests that all subscribers will kindly send their names and
addresses to him personally (Captain Burton, Trieste, Austria), when they will
be entered into a book kept for the purpose.

There will be 10 volumes at a guinea a piece, each to be paid for on delivery.
Subscribers may count on the first three volumes being printed in March next.
Captain Burton pledges himself to furnish copies to all subscribers who
address themselves to him; and he also undertakes not to issue, nor to allow
the issue of a cheaper Edition. One thousand copies will be printed, the whole
Manuscript will be ready before going to press in February, and the ten
volumes will be issued within Eighteen Months.

This was presently followed by

                            No. II.

The Student of Arabic who reads "THE NIGHTS" with this version, will not only
be competent to join in any conversation, to peruse the popular books and
newspapers, and to write letters to his friends, he will also find in the
notes a repertoire of those Arabian Manners and Customs, Beliefs and
Practices, which are not discussed in popular works.

The 10 volumes will be handsomely bound in black and gold.

No subscriptions will be until the work is done, and then at Coutts' Bank,
Strand London.

Subscribers who apply directly are preferred.

The author will pay carriage of volumes all over the United Kingdom. A London
address is requested.

And, lastly, after some delay, came the subjoined cutting from the Daily
Tribune, New York.

                            No. III.

"It has already been announced that the first instalment of Captain Burton's
new translation of the Arabian Nights may be expected this autumn. I am
indebted to a friend of his for some details which have not yet, I think, been
made public. There is still room for a translation of the Arabian Nights. All
or nearly all the popular editions of which there are hundreds, are but
renderings, more or less imperfect, from Professor Galland's French version,
which is itself an abridgment from the original, and turns a most valuable
ethnographical work into a mere collection of fairy tales. Moreover, these
English translations abound in Gallicisms, and their style offers but a
painful contrast to the French of the seventeenth century. Some years since a
Mr. Torrens undertook a complete translation from the original, but his work
did not go beyond a single volume, or fifty tales out of the 1,001. Then came
Mr. Lane in 1839, whose success was but moderate In his three large and (in
the 1839 edition) beautifully illustrated volumes, he has given not more than
half the tales. He used the Cairo Arabic edition, which is itself an
abridgment, and took all kinds of liberties with the text, translating verse
into prose, and excising everything that was not 'strictly proper.'

"Lastly, there is Mr. John Payne's excellent translation, which has occupied
him during seven years and is just brought to a conclusion. Mr. Payne bound
himself to print not more than 500 copies, and his nine volumes, not published
but printed, nominally for the Villon Society, are unprocurable except at a
price which to the general public is prohibitive.

"Captain Burton began his work on this extraordinary monument of Oriental
literature in 1852, at Aden, with some help from his friend Dr. Steinhaeuser,
of the Bombay Army. He has gone on with it as opportunity offered, and as
other literary and official labours and his many journeys in savage lands
permitted. The text and the subject offer many difficulties, and it is to
these difficulties that he has devoted especial attention. His object is to
reproduce the book in a form as entirely Arabian as possible, preserving the
strict division of the nights, and keeping (a more questionable matter) to the
long unbroken sentences in which the composer indulged, imitating also the
rhythmic prose which is a characteristic of the Arabic. The effect in English
remains to be seen, but of the value of Captain Burton's method as an
experiment in literature there can be no doubt, or of its great interest to
everybody who cares for Oriental habits of thought and language. He will not
shirk any of the passages which do not suit the taste of the day, but these,
Captain Burton thinks, will not commonly be found more objectionable than some
which are in Shakespeare and in Shakespeare's contemporaries. At the same time
it will be understood that the book is intended for men only and for the
study;--not for women or children, nor for the drawing-room table or dentist's
waiting-room. It will be printed by subscription and not published.

"Few are the Oriental scholars in England who could do justice to this picture
of the mediaeval Arab. Captain Burton is perhaps the only one who joins to the
necessary linguistic knowledge that varied practical experience of Eastern
life which alone in many cases can supply the true meaning of a troublesome
passage or an accurate comment upon it. His aim is to make the book in its
English dress not only absolutely literal in text but Oriental in tone and
colour. He knows the tales almost by heart, and used to keep the Bedouin
tribes in roars of laughter in camp during the long summer nights by reciting
them. Sheiks to whom a preternatural solemnity of demeanour is usual were to
be seen rolling on the ground in paroxysms of uncontrollable mirth. It was
also Burckhardt's custom to read the stories aloud, but the Arabs would snatch
the book from his hand because his pronunciation was so bad. Captain Burton is
said to have an Arab accent not easily distinguishable from the native. When
he contents himself with the English tongue here in England, he is one of the
most picturesque talkers to be met with. I can remember a certain
dinner-party, now many years ago, where the great traveller kept us all
listening till long past day-break; narrating, as he did, the most singular
adventures with the most vivid fidelity to facts. That, however, is a
digression. I have only to add that Captain Burton has the names of many
subscribers and will doubtless be glad to receive others which may, I suppose,
be sent to him at Trieste. His present hope is to be ready to go to press next
February and to bring out the whole of the volumes in 1885."

(Signed) G. W. S.

Concerning this "American" communication and its author I shall have more to
say in a future page.

Some 24,000 to 30,000 circulars were posted at an expense of 126 pounds and
they produced about 800 favourable replies which, after my return to England
(May '85), rose to 1,500 and to 2,000 as my unprofessional friend, and he
only, had anticipated. Meanwhile occurred an incident characteristic of such
appeals by the inexperienced to the public. A case containing 1,100 circulars
had been sent to my agent for mailing in London, and my secretary had
unfortunately gummed their envelopes. Hereupon I should have been subjected by
the Post Office to the pains and penalties of the law, perhaps to a fine of
\xA3200 pounds. But when the affair was reported, with due explanations, to the
late lamented Postmaster-General Henry Fawcett--a man in a million, and an
official in ten millions-- he had the justice and generosity to look upon the
offence as the result of pure ignorance, and I received a caution "not to do
it again."

Needless to say that I lost no time about advertising my mistake in the
dailies, giving the name of my agent and in offering to refund the money. Some
of the sealed and unpaid envelopes had, however, been forwarded prematurely
and the consequence was a comical display of wrath in quarters where it was
hardly to be expected. By way of stemming the unpleasant tide of abuse I
forwarded the following communiqu\xE9; to The Academy.

                  "TUPPENCE AS A TOUCHSTONE."

Trieste, Nov. 2, 85.

"Can you kindly find space for a few lines on a purely personal matter which
is causing me abundant trouble? A box of circulars giving details concerning
my forthcoming version of the Arabian Nights was sent to London with
directions to stamp and post the contents. The envelopes having been
inadvertently gummed down, the case was stopped by the Custom-house, and was
transmitted to the Post Office where it was found to contain circulars not
letters, and of these sundry were forwarded without prepayment. The pleasant
result was that one out-spoken gentleman writes upon the circular, which he
returns,--When you send your trash again, put postage-stamps on. A second is
peremptorily polite, Please forward four stamps to the Adjutant of the --th
Regiment. The 'Chaplain of the Forces at ----,' at once ironical and severe,
ventures to suggest to Captain Burton that it is advisable, if he thinks his
book worth selling, to put the postage on future advertisements. A fourth who,
I regret to say, signs himself Lieutenant Colonel, gives me advice about
pre-payment written in an orderly's hand upon a torn envelope (gratuitously
insulting!); encloses the 2d. stamp and sends the missive under official cover
'On Her Majesty's Service.' The idea of a French or an Austrian Colonel
lowering himself so infinitely low! Have these men lost all sense of honour,
all respect for themselves (and others) because they can no longer be called
to account for their insolence more majorum? I never imagined 'Tuppence' to be
so cunning a touchstone for detecting and determining the difference between
gold and dross; nor can I deeply regret that circumstance and no default of
mine has placed in hand Ithuriel's spear in the shape of the said 'Tuppence'."

I am, Sir, etc.


The process of filling-up my list presented a fine and varied study of
character; and an extensive experience of subscribers, as well as of
non-subscribers, presently enabled me to distribute the genus into the
following eight species. The friendly subscriber who takes ten copies (more or
less) forwarding their value. The gentleman subscriber who pays down his
confidingly. The cautious-canny subscriber who ventures \xA35. 5s., or half the
price. The impudent and snobbish subscriber who will address his victim as


     Send me the first volume of your Arabian Nights and if I like it I will
perhaps take more.

               Yours obediently,


And Cynophron will probably receive for all reply:--


     Send me ten guineas and take one or ten volumes as you please.

               Yours obediently, etc.

No. vi. is the fussy and troublesome subscriber who gives more bother than he
is worth, and who takes a VICIOUS pride in not paying till pushed to the last
point. The professional subscriber fights hard for the most favourable terms,
and holds it his vested right to "part" by dribblers. And lastly comes the
dishonest subscriber who does not pay at all. I must however, in justice own
that species No. viii. is rare: of one thousand the proportion was only about
a score.

In mid-June, '85, I returned to London and began at once to prepare for
issuing the book. Having found the publisher peculiarly unsatisfactory--with
one single and remarkable exception my venerable friend, Mr. Van Voorst,
whilome of Paternoster Row--I determined, like Professor Arber, to do without
him, although well aware how risky was the proceeding, which would, in the
case of a work for general reading, have arrayed against me the majority of
the trade and of their "hands," the critics. Then I sought hard, but sought in
vain, for the agency of a literary friend or friends, men of name and note,
like those who assisted in the Villon version: all feared the responsibility
and the expected storm of abuse which, however, failed to burst.

Under these circumstances "The Printing Times," a professional periodical
produced by Messieurs Wymans, was pleased (August 25, '85) to be unpleasantly
intrusive on the subject of my plan. "We always heard associated with the
publication of this important work, the name of Mr.----, which is now
conspicuous by its absence, nor is, apparently the name of any other leading
publishing house to be identified with its production" (The Printer's Devil
is, I presume, responsible for the English!) The writer then warns me in all
(un-)friendliness that if the printers forget to add their imprint, they would
become liable to a legal penalty; that the work is unsafe for literal
translation and, lastly that although printed by private subscription, "It is
likely enough to be pronounced an injury to public morals to the danger of the
author and his printers." The unhappy article concludes, "We await the issue
of the first volume since much will depend upon the spirit(!) in which the
translation has been undertaken; certainly the original text is not suitable
for general circulation (connu!) unless edited with the utmost care and

To this production so manifestly inspired by our old friend \xA3s. d., I replied
in The Aademy (August 7, '85), the gist of the few lines being as follows:--

In answer to many inquiries from friends and others, will you allow me to
repeat through your columns, that my translation of the "Arabian Nights" will
be strictly limited to 1,000 copies, each sent to picked subscribers, and to
renew the promise which I before made, that no cheaper edition shall be
printed? Correspondents have complained that I have not stated the price; but
I have mentioned over and over again that there are ten volumes, at one guinea
each--my object in making it so expensive being to keep it from the general
public. I am also troubled with inquiries as to who is my publisher I am my
own publisher, inaugurating (Inshallah!) a golden age for authors. Jesting
apart the book has no publisher. It is printed by myself for the benefit of
Orientalists and Anthropologists, and nothing could be more repugnant to me
than the idea of a book of the kind being published or being put into the
hands of any publisher.

The first volume dated "Benares: MDCCCLXXXV: Printed by the Kamashastra
Society for Private Subscribers only," did not appear till September 12, '85:
it had been promised for March and had been delayed by another unavoidable
detention at Trieste. But my subscribers had no further cause of complaint;
ten tomes in sixteen months ought to satisfy even the most exigent.

No. i. volume was accompanied by a circular earnestly requesting that the book
might not be exposed for sale in public places or permitted to fall into the
hands of any save curious students of Moslem manners. Yet the birth of the
first-born was accompanied (I am fain to confess) with no small trouble and
qualms to the parent and to all who assisted at the parturition. Would the
"little stranger" robed in black and gold, the colours of the Abbaside
Caliphs, with its brick-red night-cap after the fashion of ecclesiastical
bandings, be kindly welcomed or would it be regarded as an abortion, a
monster? The reader will readily understand how welcome to an author in such
perplexity came the following article from the Standard (September 12),
usually attributed to the popular and trenchant pen of Mr. Alfred Austin. I
must be permitted to quote it entire, because it expresses so fully and so
admirably all and everything I could desire a reviewer to write. And the same
paper has never ceased to give me the kindest encouragement: its latest notice
was courteous and appreciative as its earliest.

The first volume of Captain Burton's long-expected edition of the "Arabian
Nights" was issued yesterday to those who are in a position to avail
themselves of the wealth of learning contained in this monumental labour of
the famous Eastern traveller. The book is printed for subscribers only, and is
sold at a price which is not likely to be paid by any save the scholars and
students for whose instruction it is intended. But though the Benares
"Kamashastra Society" are careful to let the world know that the "Thousand
Nights and a Night" is not "published" in the technical sense of the term, the
pages which will be read by a thousand purchasers may be fittingly regarded as
the property of the world at large. In any case, the day when the experience
of a life was embodied into this fresh translation of the "Alf Laylah wa
Laylah" marks a distinct stage in the history of Oriental research. The world
has had numerous versions of these stories. For at least a century and a half
they have delighted old and young, until Shahrazade and Dunyazade, the
Fisherman and the Jinn, and the tales told by the Tailor, the Kalendar, the
Nazarene broker, and the Hunchback. . . to say nothing of Aladdin, Ali Baba,
Sinbad the Sailor, and Camaralzaman and Badoura--seem like the most familiar
of friends. Yet many of those who know the ordinary epitome prepared for the
nursery and the drawing-room have little idea of the nature of the original.
Galland's abridgment was a mere shadow of the Arabic. Even the editions of
Lane and Habicht and Torrens and Von Hammer represented but imperfectly the
great corpus of Eastern folk-lore which Captain Burton has undertaken to
render into English, without regard to the susceptibilities of those who, not
having bought the book, are, therefore, in no way concerned in what is the
affair of him and his subscribers. The best part of two centuries have passed
away since Antoine Galland first turned some of the tales into French, and got
stigmatised as a forger for his pains. Never was there such a sensation as
when he printed his translations. For weeks he had been pestered by troops of
roysterers rousing him out of bed, and refusing to go until the shivering
Professor recited one of the Arab stories to the crowd under his window. Nor
has the interest in them in any way abated. Thousands of copies pass every
year into circulation, and any one who has ever stood in the circle around the
professional storyteller of the East must have noticed how often he draws on
this deathless collection. The camel-driver listens to them as eagerly as did
his predecessors ages ago. The Badawi laughs in spite of himself, though next
moment he ejaculates a startling "Astaghfaru'llah" for listening to the light
mention of the sex whose name is never heard amongst the Nobility of the
Desert. Or if the traveller is a scholar and a gentleman, he will pull out his
book for amusement of the company squatted round the camp fire, as did Captain
Burton many a time and oft in the course of his Eastern wanderings.

To Captain Burton the preparation of these volumes must have been a labour of
love. He began them in conjunction with his friend Steinhaeuser, soon after
his return from the Mecca pilgrimage, more than thirty years ago, and he has
been doing something to them ever since. In the swampy jungles of West Africa
a tale or two has been turned into English, or a poem has been versified
during the tedium of official life in the dank climate of Brazil. From Sind to
Trieste the manuscript has formed part and parcel of his baggage and though,
in the interval, the learned author has added many a volume to the shelf-full
which he has written, the "Thousand Nights and a Night" have never been
forgotten. And now when he nears the end of his labours it seems as if we had
never before known what the beauteous Shahrazad told the King who believed not
in the constancy of women. Captain Burton seems the one sober man among
drunkards. We have all the old company though they appear in dresses so
entirely new that one scans the lines again and again before the likeness is
quite recognised. However, Tajal-Mulook will no doubt be as knightly as ever
when his turn comes, for the Barber is garrulous, after the old fashion, and
the three Shaykhs relate their experiences with the Jinns, the gazelles, and
mules as vividly as they have done any time these thousand years or more. King
Yoonan and the Sage Dooban are here, and so are King Sindibad and his falcon,
the young Prince of the Black Islands, the envious Weezer and the Ghoolah, and
the stories of the Porter and the Ladies of Baghdad lose nothing of their
charm in the new, and, we may add, extremely unsophisticated version. For
Captain Burton's work is not virginibus puerisque, and, while disclaiming for
his version anything like intentional indecorum, he warns the readers that
they will be guilty of a breach of good faith should they permit a work
prepared only for students to fall into the hands of boys and girls. From the
first to almost the penultimate edition of these stories the drawing-room
alone has been consulted. Even Mr. Payne, though his otherwise faithful
version was printed for the Villon Society, had the fear of Mrs. Grundy before
his eyes. Moreover, no previous editor--not even Lane himself--had a tithe of
Captain Burton's acquaintance with the manners and customs of the Moslem East.
Hence not unfrequently, they made ludicrous blunders and in no instance did
they supply anything like the explanatory notes which have added so greatly to
the value of this issue of "Alf Laylah wa Laylah." Some of these are startling
in their realism, and often the traveller who believed that he knew something
of the East, winces at the plainness with which the Wazir's daughter tells her
tales to Shahryar, King of the Banu Sasan. The language is, however, more
frequently coarse than loose, and smacks more of the childish plainness with
which high and low talk in the family circles from Tangier to Malayia, than of
prurience or suggestiveness. The Oriental cannot understand that it is
improper to refer in straightforward terms to anything which Allah has created
or of which the Koran treats. But in his conversation, as in his folk-lore,
there is no subtle corruption or covert licentiousness--none of the vicious
suggestion and false sentiment that pervade so many of the productions of the
modern romantic school.

It is, indeed, questionable whether there is much in these inimitable romances
half so objectionable as many of the chapters in Rabelais and Boccaccio. Nor
do the most archaic of the passages which Captain Burton declines to "veil in
the decent obscurity of a learned language" leave much room for the admirers
of Shakespeare, or Greene, or Nash, or Wycherley, or Swift, or Sterne to cry
shame. Their coarseness was a reflection of the times. The indelicacy was not
offensive to those who heard it. On the other hand, apart from the language,
the general tone of "The Nights" is exceptionally high and pure. The
devotional fervour, as Captain Burton justly claims, often rises to the
boiling-point of fanaticism and the pathos is sweet and deep, genuine and
tender, simple and true. Its life--strong, splendid, and multitudinous--is
everywhere flavoured with that unaffected pessimism and constitutional
melancholy which strike deepest root under the brightest skies. The Kazi
administers poetical justice with exemplary impartiality, and so healthy is
the morale that at times we descry through the voluptuous and libertine
picture "vistas of a transcendental morality--the morality of Socrates in
Plato." In no other work of the same nature is Eastern life so vividly
portrayed. We see the Arab Knight, his prowess and his passion for adventure,
his love and his revenge, the craft of his wives, and the hypocrisy of his
priests, as plainly as if we had lived among them. Gilded palaces, charming
women, lovely gardens, caves full of jewels, and exquisite repasts, captivate
the senses and give variety to the panorama which is passing before our eyes.
Yet we repeat that, though there is much in the excellent version now begun
which is very plain speaking, there is nothing intentionally demoralising.
Evidently, however the translator is prepared to hear this charge brought
against his labour of love. Indeed, there is a tinge of melancholy pervading
the preface in which the Editor refers to his "unsuccessful professional
life," and to the knowledge of which his country has cared so little to avail
itself. * * * * * Even in the recent Egyptian troubles--which are referred to
somewhat bitterly-- his wisdom was not utilised, though, after the death of
Major Morice, there was not an English official in the camps before Suakin
capable of speaking Arabic. On this scandal, and on the ignorance of Oriental
customs which was everywhere displayed, Captain Burton is deservedly severe.
The issue of the ten volumes now in the press, accompanied by notes so full of
learning as those with which they are illuminated, will surely give the nation
an opportunity for wiping away the reproach of that neglect which Captain
Burton seems to feel more keenly than he cares to express.

This was a sop to the friend and a sore blow dealt to the enemy. Moreover it
was speedily followed up by another as swashing and trenchant in the Morning
Advertiser (September 15, '85), of which long extracts are presently quoted.
The journal was ever friendly to me during the long reign of Mr. James Grant,
and became especially so when the editorial chair was so worthily filled by my
old familiar of Oxford days, the late Alfred Bate Richards, a man who made the
"Organ of the Licensed Victuallers" a power in the state and was warmly
thanked for his good services by that model conservative, Lord Beaconsfield.

A phrase in the Standard, the "most archaic of the passages," acted upon

                    The "Pall Mall Gazette"

like a red rag upon a rageous bull. I should rather say that it excited the
so-called "Sexual I Journal" by suggesting another opportunity for its unclean
sensationalism: perhaps also the staff hoped to provide company and a
fellow-sufferer for their editor, who was then in durance vile, his of fences
being "inciting to an indecent assault" and an act of criminal immorality. I
should not have felt called upon to remind my readers of a scandal half
forgotten in England, while still held in lively remembrance by the jealous
European world, had not the persistent fabrications, calumnies, and slanders
of the Pall Mall, which continue to this day, compelled me to move in
self-defence, and to explain the mean under lying motives.

Some three years and a half ago (June 3, '85), the paper startled the world of
London by a prodigy of false, foul, and fulsome details in the shape of
articles entitled "The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon." The object of the
editor, Mr. William T. Stead, a quondam teacher in the London schools and a
respectable Methodist strengthened by non- Conformist support, in starting
this ignoble surprise on the public was much debated. His partisans asserted
that he had been honestly deceived by some designing knave as if such
child-like credulity were any excuse for a veteran journalist! His foes opined
that under the cloak of a virtue, which Cato never knew, he sought to quicken
his subscription list ever dwindling under the effects of his exaggerated
Russophilism and Anglophobia.

But whatever may have been the motive, the effect was deplorable. The
articles, at once collected into a pamphlet (price two pence), as the "Report
of the Pall Mall Gazette's Secret Commission," and headed by a laudatory
quotation from one of the late Lord Shaftesbury's indiscreetly philanthropic
speeches, were spread broadcast about every street and lane in London. The
brochure of sixteen pages divided into three chapters delighted the malignant
with such sensational section-headings as--How Girls are Bought and
Ruined--Why the Cries of the Victims are not Heard--Procuresses in the West
End--How Annie was Procured--You Want a Maid, do You?--The Ruin of Children--A
London Minotaur(?)--The Ruin of the Young Life--The Demon Child and--A Close
Time for Girls, the latter being intended to support the recommendation of the
Lords' Committee and the promise of a Home Secretary that the age of consent
be raised from thirteen to sixteen. And all this catchpenny stuff (price 2d.)
ended characteristically with "Philanthropic and Religious Associations can be
supplied with copies of this reprint on special terms." Such artless
benevolence and disinterested beneficence must, of course, be made to pay.

Read by every class and age in the capital, the counties and the colonies,
this false and filthy scandal could not but infect the very children with the
contagion of vice. The little gutter-girls and street-lasses of East London
looked at men passing-by as if assured that their pucelages were or would
become vendible at \xA33 to \xA35. But, the first startling over men began to treat
the writer as he deserved. The abomination was "boycotted" by the Press,
expelled from clubs, and driven in disgrace from the "family breakfast table,"
an unpleasant predicament for a newspaper which lives, not by its news, but by
its advertise meets. The editor had the impudence to bemoan a "conspiracy of
silence," which can only mean that he wanted his foul sheets to be bought and
discussed when the public thought fit to bury them in oblivion. And yet he
must have known that his "Modern Babylon" is not worse in such matters than
half-a-dozen minor Babylons scattered over Europe, Asia, and America; and that
it is far from being, except by the law of proportion the "greatest market of
human flesh in the world." But by carefully and curiously misrepresenting the
sporadic as the systematic, and by declaring that the "practice of procuration
has been reduced to a science" (instead of being, we will suppose, one of the
fine arts), it is easy to make out a case of the grossest calumny and most
barefaced scandal against any great capital.

The revelations of the Pall Mall were presently pooh-pooh'd at home; but
abroad their effect was otherwise. Foreigners have not yet learned thoroughly
to appreciate our national practice of washing (and suffering others to wash)
the foulest linen in fullest public. Mr. Stead's unworthy clap-trap
representing London as the head-quarters of kidnapping, hocussing, and
child-prostitution, the author invoking the while with true Pharisaic
righteousness, unclean and blatant, pure intentions and holy zeal for good
works was welcomed with a shout of delight by our unfriends the French, who
hold virtue in England to be mostly Tartuffery, and by our cousins-german and
rivals the Germans, who dearly love to use us and roundly abuse us. In fact,
the national name of England was wilfully and wrongfully defiled and bewrayed
by a "moral and religious" Englishman throughout the length and breadth of

Hard upon these "revelations" came the Eliza Armstrong case whereby the editor
of the "Sexual Gazette" stultified thoroughly and effectually his own
assertions; and proved most satisfactorily, to the injury of his own person,
that the easiest thing in the world is notably difficult and passing
dangerous. An accomplice, unable to procure a "maiden" for immoral purposes
after boasting her ability as a procuress, proceeded to kidnap one for the
especial benefit of righteous Mr. Stead. Consequently, he found himself in the
dock together with five other accused, male and female; and the verdict,
condemning the archplotter to three months and the assistants to lesser terms
of imprisonment for abduction and indecent assault, was hailed with universal
applause. The delinquent had the fanatical and unscrupulous support, with
purse and influence, of the National Vigilance Association, a troop of
busybodies captained by licensed blackmailers who of late years have made
England their unhappy hunting-ground.[FN#446] Despite, however, the "Stead
Defence Fund" liberally supplied by Methody; despite the criminal's
Pecksniffan tone, his self-glorification of the part he had taken, his
effront\xE9 boast of pure and lofty motives and his passionate enthusiasm for
sexual morality, the trial emphasised the fact that no individual may break
the law of the land in order that good may come therefrom. It also proved most
convincingly the utter baselessness of the sweeping indictment against the
morality of England and especially of London--a charge which "undoubtedly had
an enormous influence for harm at home and cruelly prejudiced the country
abroad." In the words of Mr. Vaughan of the Bow Street Police Court (September
7, '85) the Pall Mall's "Sensational articles had certainly given unlimited
pain and sorrow to many good people at home and had greatly lowered the
English nation in the estimation of foreigners." In a sequel to the Eliza
Armstrong case Mr. Justice Manisty, when summing up, severely condemned the
"shocking exhibition that took place in the London streets by the publication
of statements containing horrible details, and he trusted that those who were
responsible for the administration of the law would take care that such
outrage should not be permitted again." So pure and pious Mr. Stead found time
for reflection during the secluded three-months life of a "first-class
misdemeanant" in "happy Holywell," and did not bring out his intended articles
denouncing London as the head- quarters of a certain sin named from Sodom.

About mid-September, when Mr. Stead still lay in durance vile, a sub-editor
Mr. Morley (Jun.) applied to me for an interview which I did not refuse. It
was by no means satisfactory except to provide his paper with "copy." I found
him labouring hard to place me "in the same box" with his martyred principal
and to represent my volume ("a book of archaic delights") as a greater outrage
on public decency than the two-penny pamphlet. This, as said the London Figaro
(September 19, '85), is a "monstrous and absurd comparison." It became evident
to me, during the first visit, that I was to play the part of Mr. Pickwick
between two rival races of editors, the pornologists and the anti-
pornologists, and, having no stomach for such sport, I declined the r\xF4le. In
reply to a question about critics my remark to the interviewer was, "I have
taken much interest in what the classics call Skiomachia and I shall allow
Anonymus and Anonyma to howl unanswered. I shall also treat with scornful
silence the miserables who, when shown a magnificent prospect, a landscape
adorned with the highest charms of Nature and Art, can only see in a field
corner here and there a little heap of muck. 'You must have been looking for
it, Madam!' said, or is said to have said, sturdy old Doctor Samuel Johnson."

Moreover Mr. Morley's style of reporting "interviews" was somewhat too
advanced and American--that is, too personal, too sensation-mongering and too
nauseously familiar--to suit my taste, and I would have none other of them.
Hereupon being unable to make more copy out of the case the Pall Mall Gazette
let loose at me a German Jew pennyliner, who signs himself Sigma. This pauvre
diable delivered himself of two articles, "Pantagruelism or Pornography?"
(September 14, '85) and "The Ethics of the Dirt" (September 19, '85), wherein
with matchless front of brass he talks of the "unsullied British
breakfast-table," so pleasantly provided with pepper by his immaculate editor.
And since that time the Pall Mall Gazette has never ceased to practice at my
expense its old trade, falsehood and calumny, and the right of private
judgment, sentence and execution. In hopes that his splenetic and vindictive
fiction might bear fruit, at one time the Pall Mall Gazette has "heard that
the work was to be withdrawn from circulation" (when it never circulated).
Then, "it was resolved by the authorities to request Captain Burton not to
issue the third volume and to prosecute him if he takes no notice of the
invitation;" and, finally, "Government has at last determined to put down
Captain Burton with a strong hand." All about as true as the political
articles which the Pall Mall Gazette indites with such heroic contempt for
truth, candour and honesty. One cannot but apply to the "Gutter Gazette" the
words of the Rev. Edward Irving:--"I mean by the British Inquisition that
court whose ministers and agents carry on their operations in secret; who drag
every man's most private affairs before the sight of thousands and seek to
mangle and destroy his life, trying him without a witness, condemning him
without a hearing, nor suffering him to speak for himself, intermeddling in
things of which they have no knowledge and cannot on any principle have a
jurisdiction *  *  *  I mean the ignorant, unprincipled, unhallowed spirit of
criticism, which in this Protestant country is producing as foul effects
against truth, and by as dishonest means as ever did the Inquisition of Rome"
(p. 5 "Preliminary Discourse to Ben Ezra," etc.).

Of course men were not wanting to answer the malevolent insipidities of the
Pall Mall Gazette, and to note the difference between newspaper articles duly
pamphleted and distributed to the disgust of all decency, and the translation
of an Arabian limited in issue and intended only for the few select. Nor could
they fail to observe that black balling The Nights and admitting the
"revelations" was a desperate straining at the proverbial gnat and swallowing
the camel. My readers will hardly thank me for dwelling upon this point yet I
cannot refrain from quoting certain of the protests:--


           To the Editor of the "PALL MALL GAZETTE."

Your correspondent "Sigma" has forgotten the considerable number of "students"
who will buy Captain Burton's translation as the only literal one, needing it
to help them in what has become necessary to many--a masterly knowledge of
Egyptian Arabic. The so-called "Arabian Nights" are about the only written
half-way house between the literary Arabic and the colloquial Arabic, both of
which they need, and need introductions too. I venture to say that its largest
use will be as a grown-up school-book and that it is not coarser than the
classics in which we soak all our boys' minds at school.

               ANGLO EGYPTIAN
               September 14th, 1885.

And the Freethinker's answer (Oct. 25, '85) to these repeated and malicious
assaults is as follows:--

Here is a fine illustration of Mr. Stead's Pecksniffian peculiarities. Captain
Burton, a gentleman and a scholar whose boots Mr. Stead is not fit to black,
is again hauled over the coals for the hundredth time about his new
translation of the Arabian Nights, which is so "pornographic" that the price
of the first volume has actually risen from a pound to twenty-five shillings.
Further down, in the very same column, the P.M.G. gloats proudly over the fact
that thirty-five shillings have been given for a single copy of its own
twopennyworth of smut.

The last characteristic touch which I shall take the trouble to notice is the
following gem of September 16, '87:--

I was talking to an American novelist the other day, and he assured me that
the Custom-house authorities on "the other side" seized all copies of Sir
Richard Burton's "Nights" that came into their hands, and retained them as
indecent publications. Burned them, I hope he meant, and so, I fear, will all
holders of this notorious publication, for prices will advance, and Sir
Richard will chuckle to think that indecency is a much better protection than
international copyright.

Truly the pen is a two-edged tool, often turned by the fool against his own
soul. So an honest author "chuckles" when his subscribers have lost their
copies because this will enhance the value of his book! I ask, Can anything be
better proven than the vileness of a man who is ever suspecting and looking
for vileness in his fellow-men? Again, the assertion that the Custom-house
authorities in the United States had seized my copies is a Pall-Mallian
fiction pure and simple, and the "Sexual Gazette" must have known this fact
right well. In consequence of a complaint lodged by the local Society for the
Suppression of Vice, the officials of the Custom-house, New York, began by
impounding the first volumes of the Villon Version; but presently, as a
literary friend informs me (February 10, '88), "the new translations of The
Nights have been fully permitted entry at the Custom-house and are delivered
on the payment of 25% duty." To my copies admittance was never refused.

Mr. Stead left his prison-doors noisily declaring that the rest of his life
should be "devoted to Christian chivalry"--whatever that majestic dictum may
mean. As regards his subsequent journalistic career I can observe only that it
has been unfortunate as inconsequent. He took up the defence, abusing the Home
Secretary after foulest fashion of the card-blooded murderer Lipski, with the
result that his prot\xE9g\xE9 was hanged after plenary confession and the Editor had
not the manliness to apologise. He espoused the cause of free speech in
Ireland with the result that most of the orators were doomed to the
infirmaries connected with the local gaols. True to his principle made penal
by the older and wiser law of libel, that is of applying individual and
irresponsible judgment to, and passing final and unappealable sentence upon,
the conduct of private individuals and of public men, he raged and inveighed
with all the fury of outraged (and interested) virtue against Colonel
Hughes-Hallett with the consequence of seating that M.P. more firmly than
before. He took up the question of free public meeting in England with the
result that a number of deludeds (including Mr. Cunninghame Graham, M.P.)
found their way to prison, which the "Christian chevalier" had apparently
contracted to supply with inmates. But there is more to say concerning the
vaunted morality of this immoral paper.--Eheu! quantum mutatus from the old
decent days when, under Mr. Frederic Greenwood, it was indeed "written by
gentlemen for gentlemen" (and ladies).

A journal which, like the Pall Mall Gazette, affects preferably and
persistently sexual subjects and themes rubric, works more active and
permanent damage to public morals than books and papers which are frankly
gross and indecent. The latter, so far as the world of letters knows them, are
read either for their wit and underlying wisdom (e.g. Rabelais and Swift), for
their historical significance (Petronius Arbiter) or for their anthropological
interest as the Alf Laylah. But the public print which deals, however primly
and decently, piously and unctuously, with sexual and inter-sexual relations,
usually held to be of the Alekta or taboo'd subjects, is the real perverter of
conduct, the polluter of mental purity, the corrupter-general of society.
Amongst savages and barbarians the comparatively unrestrained intercourse
between men and women relieves the brain through the body; the mind and memory
have scant reason, physical or mental, to dwell fondly upon visions amatory
and venereal, to live in a "rustle of (imaginary) copulation." On the other
hand the utterly artificial life of civilization, which debauches even the
monkeys in "the Zoo," and which expands the period proper for the reproductory
process from the vernal season into the whole twelvemonth, leaves to the many,
whose lot is celibacy, no bodily want save one and that in a host of cases
either unattainable or procurable only by difficulty and danger. Hence the
prodigious amount of mental excitement and material impurity which is found
wherever civilization extends, in maid, matron, and widow, save and except
those solely who allay it by some counteragent --religion, pride, or physical
frigidity. How many a woman in "Society," when stricken by insanity or
puerperal fever, breaks out into language that would shame the slums and which
makes the hearers marvel where she could have learned such vocabulary. How
many an old maid held to be cold as virgin snow, how many a matron upon whose
fairest fame not a breath of scandal has blown, how many a widow who proudly
claims the title univira, must relieve their pent-up feelings by what may be
called mental prostitution. So I would term the dear delights of sexual
converse and that sub-erotic literature, the phthisical "French novel," whose
sole merit is "suggestiveness," taking the place of Oriental morosa voluptas
and of the unnatural practices--Tribadism and so forth, still rare, we
believe, in England. How many hypocrites of either sex, who would turn away
disgusted from the outspoken Tom Jones or the Sentimental Voyager, revel in
and dwell fondly upon the sly romance or "study" of character whose profligacy
is masked and therefore the more perilous. And a paper like the (modern) Pall
Mall Gazette which deliberately pimps and panders to this latent sense and
state of aphrodisiac excitement, is as much the more infamous than the loose
book as hypocrisy is more hateful than vice and prevarication is more ignoble
than a lie. And when such vile system is professionally practiced under the
disguise and in the holy names of Religion and Morality, the effect is
loathsome as that spectacle sometimes seen in the East of a wrinkled old
eunuch garbed in woman's nautchdress ogling with painted eyes and waving and
wriggling like a young Bayad\xE9re.

There is much virtue in a nickname: at all events it shows the direction
whither the aura popularis sets. The organ of Christian Chivalry is now
universally known to Society as "The Gutter Gazette;" to the public as "The
Purity-Severity Paper," and the "Organ of the Social Pruriency Society," and
to its colleagues of the Press as "The Dirt Squirt." In the United States
fulsomely to slander a man is "to Pall Mall Gazette him:" "Just like your Pall
Mall Gazette," said an American to me when describing a disreputable print
"over the water." And Mr. Stead, now self-constituted coryph\xE6us of the Reptile
Press in Great Britain, has apparently still to learn that lying and
slandering are neither Christian nor chivalrous.

The diminutive Echo of those days (October 13 and 14, '85) followed suit of
the Pall Mall Gazette and caught lightly the sounds as they fell from the
non-melliferous lips of the charmer who failed to charm wisely. The precious
article begins by informing me that I am "always eager after the sensational,"
and that on this occasion I "cater for the prurient curiosity of the wealthy
few," such being his synonym for "readiness to learn." And it ends with the
following comical colophon:--"Captain Burton may possibly imitate himself(?)
and challenge us(!) to mortal combat for this expression of opinion. If so,
the writer of these lines will imitate himself(?) and take no notice of such
an epistle." The poor scribe suggests the proverbial "Miss Baxter, who refused
a man before he axed her." And what weapon could I use, composing-stick or
dung-fork, upon an anonymous correspondent of the hawkers' and newsboys'
"Hecker," the favourite ha'porth of East London? So I left him to the tender
mercies of Gaiety (October 14, '84):--

     The Echo is just a bit wild,
          Its "par." is indeed a hard hitter:
     In fact, it has not drawn it mild
          'Tis a matter of "Burton and bitter."

I rejoice to subjoin that the Echo has now (1888) made a name for decent and
sensible writing, having abandoned the "blatant" department to the Star (see,
for the nonsense about a non-existent Alderman Waterlow, its issue of
September 6, '88).

In the opinions of the Press will be found a selection from half a century of
laudatory notices to which the few curious touching such matters will turn,
while those who misjudged my work are duly acknowledged in this paper. Amongst
friends I would specify without invidious distinction, The Bat (September 29,
'85), who on this occasion and sundry others sturdily defended me, showing
himself a bird of "light and leading." To the St. James's Gazette (September
12, '85), the Whitehall Review (September 17), the Home News (September 18),
and the Nottingham Journal (September 19), I am also indebted for most
appreciative and intelligent notices. My cordial thanks are likewise due to
the Editor and especially to "Our London Correspondent" of the Lincoln Gazette
(October 10 and October 17, '85, not to notice sundry minor articles): the
articles will be reprinted almost entire because they have expressed my
meaning as though it came from my own mouth. I have quoted Mr. J. Addington
Symonds in extenso: if England now possesses a writer who can deliver an
authoritative judgment on literary style it is this litt\xE9rateur. Of the
journals which profess letters The Academy has ever been my friend and I have
still the honour of corresponding with it: we are called "faddists" probably
from our "fad" of signing our articles and thus enabling the criticised to
criticise the critic.

I now turn to another of my unfriends, amongst whom is and long has been

                     The "Saturday Review,"

This ancient dodderer, who has seen better days, deigned favour me with six
notices (January 2 and March 27, '86; April 30, June 4, August 14, '87, and
July 21, '88), of which No. i., dealing with my first and second volumes, is
written after the facile American fashion, making the book review itself; that
is, supply to the writer all the knowledge and familiarity with the subject
which he parades before an incurious and easily gullible public. This especial
form of dishonesty has but lately succeeded to and ousted the classical
English critique of Jeffrey, Macaulay, and the late Mr. Abraham Hayward, which
was mostly a handy peg for the contents of the critic's noddle or note book.
The Saturnine article opens characteristically.

Abroad we English have the character of being the most prudish of nations; we
are celebrated as having Bowdlerized for our babes and sucklings even the
immortal William Shakespeare; but we shall infallibly lose this our character
should the Kamashastra Society flourish. Captain Burton has long been known as
a bold explorer; his pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, disguised in the dress
and taking on him the manners and customs of a True Believer, was a marvel of
audacity; but perhaps he may be held now to have surpassed himself, for he has
been bold enough to lay before his countrymen a literal and unexcised
translation of The Arabian Nights.

The writer is kind enough to pat me upon the back for "picturesque and fluent
English" and to confess that I have successfully imitated the rhyming cadence
of the original. But The Saturday would not be The Saturday without carping
criticism, wrong-headedness and the culte of the common-place, together with
absolute and unworthy cruelty to weaker vessels. The reviewer denounces as
"too conceited to be passed over without comment" the good old English
"whenas" (for when, vol. ii. 130), the common ballad-terms "a plump of
spearmen" (ii. 190) and a "red cent" (i. 321), the only literal rendering of
"Fals ahmar" which serves to show the ancient and noble pedigree of a slang
term supposed to be modern and American. Moreover this Satan even condemns
fiercely the sin of supplying him with "useful knowledge." The important note
(ii. 45) upon the normal English mispronunciation of the J in Jerusalem,
Jesus, Jehovah, a corruption whose origin and history are unknown to so many,
and which was, doubtless, a surprise to this Son of King "We," is damned as
"uninteresting to the reader of the Arabian Nights." En revanche, three
mistakes of mine ("p. 43" for "p. 45" in vol. ii., index; "King Zahr Shah" for
"King Suleyman Shah," ii. 285, and the careless confusion of the Caliphs
Al-Muntasir and Al- Mustansir, ii. 817, note i.) were corrected and I have
duly acknowledged the correction. No. i. article ends with Saturnine geniality
and utterly ignoring a bye-word touching dwellers in glass houses:--

Finally, we mark with regret that Captain Burton should find no more courteous
terms to apply to the useful work of a painstaking clergyman than those where
in his note he alludes to "Missionary Porter's miserable Handbook."

As Mr. Missionary Porter has never ceased to malign me, even in his last
Edition of Murray's "miserable Handbook," a cento of Hibernian blunders and
hashed Bible, I have every reason to lui rendre la pareille.

The second article (March 27, '86), treating of vol. iii., opens with one of
those plagiaristic common-places, so dear to the soul of The Saturday, in its
staid and stale old age as in its sprightly youth. "There is particularly one
commodity which all men, therein nobly disregarding their differences of creed
and country, are of a mind that it is better to give than to receive. That
commodity is good advice. We note further that the liberality with which this
is everywhere offered is only to be equalled (he means 'to be equalled only')
by the niggard reception at most times accorded to the munificent donation; in
fact the very goodness of advice given apparently militates against its due
appreciation in (by?) the recipient." The critic then proceeds to fit his ipse
dixit upon my case. The sense of the sentiment is the reverse of new: we find
in The Spectator (No. dxii.), "There is nothing we receive with so much
reluctance as good advice," etc., but Mr. Spectator writes good English and
his plagiarist does not. Nor is the dictum true. We authors who have studied a
subject for years, are, I am convinced, ready enough to learn, but we justly
object to sink our opinions and our judgment in those of a counsellor who has
only "crammed" for his article. Moreover, we must be sure that he can fairly
lay claim to the three requisites of an adviser--capacity to advise rightly,
honesty to advise truly, and courtesy to advise decently. Now the Saturday
Review has neither this, that, nor the other qualification. Indeed his words
read like subtle and lurking irony by the light of those phenomenal and
portentous vagaries which ever and anon illuminate his opaque pages. What
correctness can we expect from a journal whose tomahawk-man, when scalping the
corpse of Matthew Arnold, deliberately applies the term "sonnet" to some
thirty lines in heroic couplets? His confusion of Dr. Jenner, Vaccinator, with
Sir William Jenner, the President of the R. C. of Physicians, is one which
passes all comprehension. And what shall we say of this title to pose as an
Aristarchus (November 4th, '82)? "Then Jonathan Scott, LL.D. Oxon, assures the
world that he intended to re-translate the Tales given by Galland(!) but he
found Galland so adequate on the whole (!!) that he gave up the idea and now
reprints Galland with etchings by M. Lalauze, giving a French view of Arab
life. Why Jonathan Scott, LL.D., should have thought to better Galland while
Mr. Lane's version is in existence, and has just been reprinted, it is
impossible to say." In these wondrous words Jonathan Scott's editio princeps
with engravings from pictures by Smirke and printed by Longmans in 1811 is
confounded with the imperfect reprint by Messieurs Nimmo and Bain, in 1883;
the illustrations being borrowed from M. Adolphe Lalauze, a French artist
(nat. 1838), a master of eaux fortes, who had studied in Northern Africa and
who maroccanized the mise-en-sc\xE8ne of "The Nights" with a marvellous contrast
of white and negro nudities. And such is the Solomon who fantastically
complains that I have disdained to be enlightened by his "modest suggestions."
Au reste the article is not bad simply because it borrows--again
Americanic\xE8--all its matter from my book. At the tail-end, however comes the
normal sting: I am guilty of not explaining "Wuz\xFA" (lesser ablution), "Ghusl"
(greater ablution), and "Zak\xE1t" (legal alms which constitute a poor-rate),
proving that the writer never read vol. iii. He confidently suggests replacing
"Cafilah," "by the better known word Caravan," as if it were my speciality (as
it is his) to hunt-out commonplaces: he grumbles about "interrogation-points a
l'Espagnole upside down"(?) which still satisfies me as an excellent
substitute to distinguish the common Q(uestion) from A(nswer) and he seriously
congratulates me upon my discovering a typographical error on the fly- leaf.
No. iii. (August 14, '86, handling vols. vi., vii. and viii.) is free from the
opening pretensions and absurdities of No. ii. and it is made tolerably safe
by the familiar action of scissors and paste. But--desinit in piscem--it ends
fishily; and we find, after saturnine fashion, in cauda venenum. It scolds me
for telling the English public what it even now ignores, the properest way of
cooking meat (\xE0 propos of kab\xE1bs) and it "trembles to receive vols. ix. and x.
for truly (from a literary point of view, of course, we mean) there seems
nothing of which the translator might not be capable"--capable de tout, as
said Voltaire of Habbakuk and another agnostic Frenchman of the Prophet
Zerubbabel. This was indeed high praise considering the Saturday's sympathy
with and affection for the dead level, for the average man; but as an augury
of ill it was a brutum fulmen. No. iv. (August 30, '87) was, strange to say,
in tone almost civil and ended with a touch simulating approval:--

"The labours of a quarter of a century," writes the translator in L'Envoi,
"are now brought to a close, and certainly no one could have been found better
suited by education and taste to the task of translating the 'Nights' than is
the accomplished author of the 'Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina.' His summing
up of the contents and character of 'The Thousand and One Nights' in the
Terminal Essay is a masterpiece of careful analysis and we cannot do better
than conclude our notice with a paragraph that resumes with wonderful effect
the boundless imagination and variety of the picture that is conjured up
before our eyes:--

"Viewed as a tout ensemble in full and complete form, they are a drama of
Eastern life and a Dance of Death made sublime by faith and the highest
emotions, by the certainty of expiation and the fulness of atoning equity,
where virtue is victorious, vice is vanquished and the ways of Allah are
justified to man. They are a panorama which remains kenspeckle upon the mental
retina. They form a phantasmagoria in which archangels and angels, devils and
goblins, men of air, of fire, of water, naturally mingle with men of earth,
where flying horses and talking fishes are utterly realistic, where King and
Prince must meet fishermen and pauper, lamia and cannibal, where citizen
jostles Badawi, eunuch meets knight; the Kazi hob-nobs with the thief.... The
work is a kaleidoscope where everything falls into picture, gorgeous palaces
and pavilions; grisly underground caves and deadly words, gardens fairer than
those of the Hesperid; seas dashing with clashing billows upon enchanted
mountains, valleys of the Shadow of Death, air-voyages and promenades in the
abysses of the ocean, the duello, the battle, and the siege, the wooing of
maidens and the marriage rite. All the splendour and squalor, the beauty and
baseness the glamour and grotesqueness, the magic and the mournfulness, the
bravery and the baseness, of Oriental life are here."

And now, after the Saturday Review has condescended severely and sententiously
to bepreach me, I must be permitted a trifling return in kind. As is declared
by the French an objectionable people which prefers la gloire to "duty," and
even places "honour" before "honesty," the calling of the Fourth Estate is un
sacerdoce, an Apostolate: it is a high and holy mission whose ends are the
diffusion of Truth and Knowledge and the suppression of Ignorance and
Falsehood. "Sacrilege," with this profession, means the breaking of its two
great commandments and all sins of commission and omission suggested and
prompted by vain love of fame, by sordid self-esteem or by ignoble rancour.
What then shall we say of a paper which, professedly established to
"counteract the immorality of The Times," adds to normal journalistic follies,
offences and mistakes an utter absence of literary honour, systematic
misrepresentation, malignity and absolute ruffianism? Let those who hold such
language exaggerated glance at my pi\xE8ce justicative, the Saturday's article
(June 28, '88) upon Mr. Hitchman's "Biography of Sir Richard Burton." No
denizen of Grub Street in the coarse old day of British mob-savagery could
have produced a more damning specimen of wilful falsehood, undignified
scurrility and brutal malevolence, in order to gratify a well-known pique,
private and personal. The "Saturday Reviler"--there is, I repeat, much virtue
in a soubriquet--has grown only somewhat feebler, not kindlier, not more
sympathetic since the clever author of "In Her Majesty's Keeping" styled this
Magister Morum "the benignant and judicious foster-parent of literature"; and
since Darwin wrote of it (ii. 260) "One cannot expect fairness in a reviewer;"
nor has it even taken to heart what my friend Swinburne declared (anent its
issue of December 15, '83) "clumsy and shallow snobbery can do no harm." Like
other things waxing obsolete it has served, I hasten to confess, a special
purpose in the world of letters. It has lived through a generation of thirty
years in the glorification of the mediocrities and in pandering to the impish
taint of poor human nature, the ungenerous passions of those who abhor the
novel, the original, the surprising, the startling, and who are only too glad
to witness and to assist in the Procrustes' process of trimming and
lengthening out thoughts and ideas and diction that rise or strive to rise
above the normal and vulgar plane. This virtual descendant of the ancestral
Satirist, after long serving as a spawning-ground to envy, hatred and malice,
now enters upon the decline of an unworthy old age. Since the death of its
proprietor, Mr. Beresford-Hope, it has been steadily going down hill as is
proved by its circulation, once 15,000, and now something nearer 5,000 than
10,000. It has become a poor shadow of its former self--preserving the passive
ill- will but lacking the power of active malevolence--when journalists were
often compelled to decline correspondence upon its misjudgments and to close
to complainants their columns which otherwise would have been engrossed by
just and reasonable protestations. The "young lions" of its prime (too often
behanged with a calf-skin on their recreant limbs) are down among the dead and
the jackal-pack which has now taken up the howling could no longer have caused
Thackeray to fear or can excite the righteous disgust of that votary of
"fair-play" --Mr. John Bright.

And now, before addressing myself to another Reviewer, I would be allowed a
few words upon two purely personal subjects; the style chosen for my
translation and my knowledge of the Arabian language and literature.

I need hardly waste time to point out what all men discern more or less
distinctly, how important are diction and expression in all works of fancy and
fiction and how both branches, poetic and prosaic, delight in beauty adorned
and allow in such matters the extreme of liberty. A long study of Galland and
Torrens, Lane and Payne, convinced me that none of these translators, albeit
each could claim his special merit, has succeeded in preserving the local
colouring of the original. The Frenchman had gallicised and popularised the
general tone and tenor to such extent that even the vulgar English versions
have ever failed to throw off the French flavour. Torrens attempted literalism
laudably and courageously enough; but his execution was of the roughest, the
nude verbatim; nor did his familiarity with Arabic, or rather with Egyptian,
suffice him for the task. Lane, of whom I have already spoken, and of whom I
shall presently be driven by his imprudent relatives and interested friends to
say more, affected the latinised English of the period flat and dull, turgid
and vapid as that of Sale's Koran; and his style proved the most insufficient
and inadequate attire in which an Oriental romance of the Middle Ages could be
arrayed. Payne was perfectly satisfactory to all cultivated tastes but he
designedly converted a romantic into a classical work: none ignores its high
merits regarded merely as strong and vital English, but it lacks one thing
needful--the multiform variety of The Nights. The original Arabic text which
in the first thirteen tales (Terminal Essay, p. 78) must date from before the
xiiith century at the latest (since Galland's MS. in the Biblioth\xE8que
Nationale has been assigned to the early xivth) is highly composite: it does
not disdain local terms, bye-words and allusions (some obsolete now and
forgotten), and it borrows indiscriminately from Persian (e.g. Sh\xE1hbandar),
from Turkish (as Kh\xE1t\xFAn) and from Sanscrit (for instance Brahman). As its
equivalent, in vocabulary I could devise only a somewhat archaical English
whose old-fashioned and sub-antique flavour would contrast with our modern and
everyday speech, admitting at times even Latin and French terms, such as res
scibilis and citrouille. The mixture startled the critics and carpers to whom
its object had not been explained; but my conviction still remains that it
represents, with much truth to nature, the motley suit of the Arabo-Egyptian.
And it certainly serves one purpose, too often neglected by writers and
unnoticed by reviewers. The fluent and transparent styles of Buckle and Darwin
(the modern Aristotle who has transformed the face of Biological Science) are
instruments admirably fitted for their purpose: crystal-clear, they never
divert even a bittock of the reader's brain from the all-important sense
underlying the sound-symbols. But in works of imagination mar. wants a
treatment totally different, a style which, by all or any means, little
mattering what they be, can avoid the imminent deadly risk of languor and
monotony and which adds to fluency the allurement of variety, of surprise and
even of disappointment, when a musical discord is demanded.

Again, my estimate of a translator's office has never been of the low level
generally assigned to it even in the days when Englishmen were in the habit of
englishing every important or interesting work published on the continent of
Europe. We cannot expect at this period of our literature overmuch from a man
who, as Messieurs Vizetelly assure their client\xE8le, must produce a version for
a poor \xA320. But at his best the traducteur, while perfectly reproducing the
matter and the manner of his original, works upon two lines. His prime and
primary object is an honest and faithful copy, adding naught to the sense nor
abating aught of its peculiar cachet whilst he labours his best to please and
edify his readers. He has, however, or should have, another aim wherein is
displayed the acme of hermeneutic art. Every language can profitably lend
something to and borrow somewhat from its neighbours, near or far, an epithet,
a metaphor, a turn of phrase, a naive idiom and the translator of original
mind will not neglect the frequent opportunities of enriching his mother
tongue with alien and novel ornaments, which will justly be accounted
barbarisms until formally adopted and naturalised. Such are the "peoples" of
Kossuth and the useful "lengthy," an American revival of a good old English
term. Nor will my modern versionist relegate to a foot-note, as is the
malpractice of his banal brotherhood the interesting and often startling
phases of his foreign author's phraseology and dull the text with its
commonplace English equivalent--thus doing the clean reverse of what he should
do. It is needless to quote instances concerning this phase of "Bathos:" they
abound in every occidental translation of every Oriental work, especially the
French, such as Baron de Slane's honest and conscientious "Ibn Khald\xFAn." It
was this grand ideal of a translator's duty that made Eustache Deschamps, a
contemporary poet, write of his English brother bard.--

         "Grand Translateur, Noble Geoffroy Chaucier."


     "The firste finder of our faire language"

is styled a "Socrates in philosophy, a Seneca in morals, an Angel in conduct
and a great Translator," which apparent anti-climax has scandalised not a
little inditers of "Lives" and "Memoirs." The title is given simply because
Chaucer translated (using the best and highest sense of the term) into his
English tongue and its linguistic peculiarities, the thoughts and ideas of his
foreign models--the very letter and spirit of Petrarch and Boccacao.

That my attempts to reproduce the form and features of the original and thee
my manner of writing is well adapted to the matter appears from the consensus
of the "Notices" presently to be quoted. Mr. J. Addington Symonds pronounces
the version to be executed with "peculiar literary vigour." Mr. Swinburne is
complimentary, and even the Saturday deigns to declare "Captain Burton is
certainly felicitous in the manner in which he has englished the picturesque
lines of the original." But le style est de l'homme; and this is a matter upon
which any and every educated man who writes honestly will form and express and
retain his own opinion: there are not a few who loathe "Pickwick," and who
cannot relish Vanity Fair. So the Edinburgh Review No. 335 (pp. 174, 181),
concerning which more anon, pronounces my work to be "a jumble of the
vulgarest slang of all nations;" also "an unreadable compound of arch\xE6ology
and 'slang,' abounding in Americanisms, and full of an affected reaching after
obsolete or foreign words and phrases;" and finally shows the assurance to
assert "Captain Burton has produced a version which is neither Arabic nor
English, but which has at least the merit of being beautifully unreadable" (p.

It has been circulated widely enough by the Lane-Poole clique--poules
mouillees they are called by an Arabist friend--that I do not know Arabic. Let
me at once plead guilty to the charge, adding by way of circonstance
att\xE9nuante that I know none who does know or who can thoroughly know a tongue
of which we may say as did honest Izaak Walton of other two crafts, "angling
be so like the mathematics that it can never be fully learned." Most of us can
master one section of a language concerning which those who use it
vernacularly declare "Only Allah wotteth its entirety", but we lack as yet the
means to study it as a whole. Older by long ages than Babel's fabulous Tower,
and covering a continuous area from Eastern Arabia to the Maghrab al-Aksa
(western Mauritania), from Chaldaea in the North to southern Zanzibar, it
numbers of potential vocabulary 1,200,000 words all of which may be, if they
are not, used, and while they specify the finest shades of meaning, not a few
of them, technically termed "Zidd," bear significations diametrically
opposite, e.g., "Maul\xE1" = lord, slave; and "'Aj\xFAz" with 88 different meanings.
Its literature, poetic, semi-poetic and prosaic, falls into three greater
sections:--Ancient (The Suspendeds, the Kit\xE1b al-Agh\xE1n\xED and the Koran),
Medi\xE6val (Al-Mutanabbi, Al-Asm'\xE0i, Ab\xFA Now\xE1s and the poets of the Harunic
cycle) and Moderns, of whom not the least important (e.g. Y\xFAsuf al-Yazaj\xED) are
those of our own day. Throughout its vast domain there are local differences
of terminology which render every dialect a study; and of these many are
intimately connected with older families, as the Egyptian with Coptic and the
Moorish with Berber. The purest speakers are still the Badawin who are often
not understood by the citizen-folk (e.g. of Cairo, Damascus and Baghdad) at
whose gates they tent; and a few classes like the Ban\xFA Fahim of Al-Hij\xE1z still
converse sub-classically, ever and anon using the terminal vowels and the
nunnation elsewhere obsolete. These wildlings, whose evening camp-fires are
still their schools for eloquence and whose improvisations are still their
unwritten laws, divide speech into three degrees, Al-'\xC1li the lofty addressed
to the great, Al-Wasat used for daily converse and Al-D\xFAn the lowly or broken
"loghat" (jargon) belonging to most tribes save their own. In Egypt the purest
speakers are those of the Sa'\xEDd--the upper Nile-region--differing greatly from
the two main dialects of the Delta; in Syria, where the older Aramean is still
current amongst sundry of the villagers outlying Damascus, the best Arabists
are the Druzes, a heterogeneous of Arabs and Curds who cultivate language with
uncommon care. Of the dialectic families which subtend the Mediterranean's
southern sea-board, the Maroccan and the Algerine are barbarised by Berber, by
Spanish and by Italian words and are roughened by the inordinate use of the
Suk\xFAn (quiescence or conjoining of consonants), while the Tunisian approaches
nearer to the Syrian and the Maltese was originally Punic. The jargon of
Meccah is confessedly of all the worst. But the wide field has been scratched
not worked out, and the greater part of it, especially the Mesopotamian and
the Himyaritic of Mahrahland, still remains fallow and the reverse of sterile.

Materials for the study of Arabic in general and of its dialects in particular
are still deficient, and the dictionaries mostly content themselves with
pouring old stuff from flask to flask, instead of collecting fresh and unknown
material. Such are recueils of prayers and proverbs, folk-songs and stories,
riddles and satires, not forgetting those polyglot vocabularies so common in
many parts of the Eastern world, notably in Sind and Afgh\xE1nist\xE1n; and the
departmental glossaries such as the many dealing with "Tasawwuf"--the Moslem
form of Gnosticism. The excellent lexicon of the late Professor Dozy,
Suppl\xE9ment aux Dictionnaires Arabes, par R. Dozy, Leyde: E. J. Brill, 1881,
was a step in advance, but we still lack additions like Baron Adolph Von
Kremer's Beitrage zur Arabischen Lexicographie (In commission bei Carl
Gerold's Sohn, Wien, 1884). The French, as might be expected, began early,
e.g. M. Ruphy's Dictionnaire abrege francais-arabe, Paris, Imprimerie de la
Republique, 1810; they have done good work in Algiers and are now carrying it
on in Tunis. Of these we have Marcel, Vocabulaire, etc. (Paris, 1837), Bled de
Braine (Paris, 1846), who to his Cours Synthetique adds a study of Maroccan
and Egyptian, Professor Cherbonneau (Paris, 1854), Pr\xE9cis Historique, and
Dialogues, etc. (Alger, 1858); M. Gasselin (Paris, 1866), Dictionnaire
francais-arabe, M. Brassier (Algiers, 1871), Dictionnaire pratique, also
containing Algerine and Tunisian terms; General Parmentier (Vocabulaire
arabe-francais des Principaux Termes de Geographie, etc.: Paris, rue
Antoine-Dubois, 1882); and, to mention no others, the Grammaire Arabe Vulgaire
(Paris, 1824) of M. Caussin de Perceval (fils) has extended far and wide.
Berggren (Upsal, 1844) published his Guide Francais-Arabe des Voyageurs en
Syrie et en Egypte. Rowland de Bussy printed (Algiers, 1877) his Dialogues
Francais-Arabes in the Algerian dialect. Fr. Jos\xE9 de Lerchundi, a respected
Missioner to Tangier, has imitated and even improved upon this in his
Rudimentos del Arabe Vulgar (Madrid, Rivadeneyra, 1872); and his studies of
the Maghrabi dialect are most valuable. Dr. A. Socin produced his Arabische
Sprichw\xF6rter, etc. (Tubingen, 1878), and the late Wilhelm Spitta-Bey, whose
early death was so deeply lamented left a grammar of Egyptian which would have
been a model had the author brought to his task more knowledge of Coptic in
his Grammatik des Arabischen vulg\xE4r Dialektes von \xC6gypten, (Leipsig, 1870).
Dr. Landberg published with Brill of Leyden and Maisonneuve of Paris, 1883, a
volume of Syrian Proverbs and promises some five others--No. 2, Damascus and
the Haur\xE1n; No. 3, Kasraw\xE1n and the Nusayriyah; No. 4, Homs, Hamah and Halab
(Aleppo), and No. 5, the Badawin of Syria. It is evident that the process
might be prolonged ad infinitum by a writer of whom I shall have something to
say presently. M. Cl\xE9ment Huart (Jour. Asiat., Jan. '83) has printed notes on
the dialect of Damascus: Dr. C. Snouck Hurgronje published a collection of 77
proverbs and idioms with lengthy notes in his Mehkanische Sprichw\xF6rter, etc.
(Haag, Martinus Nijhoff, 1886), after being expelled from Meccah by the
Turkish authorities who had discovered him only through a Parisian journal Le
Temps (see his Het Mekkanshe Feest, Leyden, 1880). For the lower Najd and
upper Hijaz we have the glossary of Arabic words ably edited by Prof. M. J. de
Goeje in Mr. Charles M. Doughty's valuable and fantastic "Arabia Deserta" (ii.
542-690: see The Academy, July 28th, '88). Thus the local vocabularies are
growing, but it will be long before the ground is covered.

Again the East, and notably the Moslem East since the Massacre of Damascus in
1860, although still moving slowly, shows a distinct advance. The once
secluded and self- contained communities are now shaken by the repeated and
continuous shocks of progress around them; and new wants and strange objects
compel them nilly-willy to provide vernacular equivalents for the nomenclature
of modern arts and sciences. Thus the Orientalist, who would produce a
contemporary lexicon of Persian, must not only read up all the diaries and
journals of Teheran and the vocabularies of Yezd and Herat, he must go further
a-field. He should make himself familiar with the speech of the Iliy\xE1t or
wandering pastoral tribes and master a host of cognate tongues whose chiefs
are Armenian (Old and New), Caucasian, a modern Babel, Kurdish, L\xFAri
(Bakhtiy\xE1ri), Balochki and Pukht\xFA or Afghan, besides the direct descendants of
the Zend, the Pehlevi, Dari and so forth. Even in the most barbarous jargons
he will find terms which throw light upon the literary Iranian of the
lexicons: for instance "M\xE1diy\xE1n" = a mare presupposes the existence of
"Naray\xE1n" = a stallion, and the latter is preserved by the rude patois of the
Baloch mountaineers. This process of general collection would in our day best
be effected after the fashion of Professor James A. H. Murray's "New English
Dictionary on Historical Principles." It would be compiled by a committee of
readers resident in different parts of Persia, communicating with the Royal
Asiatic Society (whose moribund remains they might perhaps quicken) and acting
in co-operation with Russia, whom unfriends have converted from a friend to an
angry and jealous rival and who is ever so forward in the linguistic field.

But if the model Persian dictionary have its difficulties, far harder will be
the task with Arabic, which covers incomparably more ground. Here we must
begin with Spain and Portugal, Sardinia and the Balearics, Southern Italy and
Sicily; and thence pass over to Northern Africa and the two "Soudans," the
Eastern extending far South of the Equator and the Western nearly to the Line.
In Asia, besides the vast Arabian Peninsula, numbering one million of square
miles, we find a host of linguistic outliers, such as Upper Hindostan, the
Concan, Malacca, Java and even remote Yun-nan, where al-Islam is the dominant
religion, and where Arabic is the language of Holy Writ.

My initiation into the mysteries of Arabic began at Oxford under my tutor Dr.
W. A. Greenhill, who published a "Treatise on Small-pox and Measles,"
translated from Rhazes --Ab\xFA Bakr al-R\xE1z\xED (London, 1847), and where the famous
Arabist, Don Pascual de Gayangos, kindly taught me to write Arabic leftwards.
During eight years of service in Western India and in Moslem Sind, while
studying Persian and a variety of vernaculars it was necessary to keep up and
extend a practical acquaintance with the language which supplies all the
religious and most of the metaphysical phraseology; and during my last year at
Sindian Kar\xE1ch\xED (1849), I imported a Shaykh from Maskat. Then work began in
downright earnest. Besides Erpenius' (D'Erp) "Grammatica Arabica," Richardson,
De Sacy and Forbes, I read at least a dozen Perso-Arabic works (mostly of
pamphlet form) on "Serf Wa Nahw"--Accidence and Syntax--and learned by heart
one-fourth of the Koran. A succession of journeys and long visits at various
times to Egypt, a Pilgrimage to the Moslem Holy Land and an exploration of the
Arabic-speaking Som\xE1li-shores and Harar-Gay in the Galla country of Southern
Abyssinia, added largely to my practice. At Aden, where I passed the official
examination, Captain (now Sir. R. Lambert) Playfair and the late Rev. G. Percy
Badger, to whom my papers were submitted, were pleased to report favourably of
my proficiency. During some years of service and discovery in Western Africa
and the Brazil my studies were necessarily confined to the "Thousand Nights
and a Night"; and when a language is not wanted for use my habit is to forget
as much of it as possible, thus clearing the brain for assimilating fresh
matter. At the Consulate of Damascus, however, in West Arabian Midian and in
Maroccan Tangier the loss was readily recovered. In fact, of this and sundry
other subjects it may be said without immodesty that I have forgotten as much
as many Arabists have learned. But I repeat my confession that I do not know
Arabic and I have still to meet the man who does know Arabic.

Orientalists, however, are like poets and musicians, a rageous race. A passing
allusion to a Swedish student styled by others (Mekkanische Sprichw\xF6rter,
etc., p.1) "Dr. Landberg," and by himself "Doctor Count Carlo Landberg"
procured me the surprise of the following communication. I quote it in full
because it is the only uncourteous attempt at correspondence upon the subject
of The Nights which has hitherto been forced upon me.

In his introduction (p. xx.) to the Syrian Proverbes et Dictons Doctor Count
Landberg was pleased to criticise, with less than his usual knowledge, my
study entitled "Proverbia Communia Syriaca" (Unexplored Syria, i. 264-269).
These 187 "dictes" were taken mainly from a MS. collection by one Hann\xE1 Misk,
ex-dragoman of the British Consulate (Damascus), a little recueil for private
use such as would be made by a Syro Christian bourgeois. Hereupon the critic
absurdly asserted that the translator a voulu s'occuper de la langue classique
au lieu de se faire * * * l'interpr\xE8te fid\xE8le de celle du peuple. My reply was
(The Nights, vol. viii. 148) that, as I was treating of proverbs familiar to
the better educated order of citizens, his critique was not to the point; and
this brought down upon me the following letter under the \xE6gis of a portentous
coronet and initials blazing with or, yules and azure.

Paris, le 24 F\xE9vr., 1888.


J'ai l'honneur de vous adresser 2 fascicules de mes Critica Arabica. Dans le
vol. viii. p. 48 de votre traduction de 1001 Nuits vous avez une note qui me
regard (sic). Vous y cites que je ne suds pas "Arabist." Ce n'est pas votre
jugement qui m'impressionne, car vous n'\xEAtes nullement \xE0 m\xEAme de me juger.
Votre article contient, comme tout ce que vous avez \xE9crit dans le domaine de
la langue arabe, des b\xE9vues. C'est vous qui n'\xEAtes pas arabisant: cela est
bien connu et reconnu, et nous ne nous donnons pas m\xEAme la peine de relever
toutes les innombrables erreurs don't vos publications fourmillent. Quant \xE0
"Sah\xEDfah" vous \xEAtes encore en erreur. Mon \xE9tymologie est accept\xE9e par tout le
monde et je vous renvoie \xE0 Fleischer, Kleinre Schriften, p. 468, Leipzig,
1885, o\xF9 vous trouverez ['instruction n\xE9cessaire. Le dilettantism qui se
trahit dans tout ce que vous \xE9crivez vous fait faire de telles erreurs. Nous
autres arabisants et professo (?) nous ne vous avons jamais et nous ne vous
pouvons jamais consid\xE9rer comme arabisant. Voila ma r\xE9ponse \xE0 votre note.

          Agr\xE9ez, Monsieur,

          l'expression de mes sentiments distingu\xE9s,

          Comte Lasdberg,


After these preliminaries I proceed to notice the article (No. 335, of July
'86) in

                     The "Edinburgh Review"

and to explain its private history with the motives which begat it.

"This is the Augustan age of English criticism," say the reviewers, who are
fond of remarking that the period is one of literary appreciation rather than
of original production that is, contemporary reviewers, critics and
monograph-writers are more important than "makers" in verse or in prose. In
fact it is their aurea \xE6tas. I reply "Virgin ore, no!" on the whole mixed
metal, some noble, much ignoble; a little gold, more silver and an abundance
of brass, lead and dross. There is the criticism of Sainte Beuve, of the late
Matthew Arnold and of Swinburne, there is also the criticism of the Saturday
Reviler and of the Edinburgh criticaster. The golden is truth and honour
incarnate: it possesses outsight and insight: it either teaches and inspires
or it comforts and consoles, save when a strict sense of duty compels it to
severity: briefly, it is keen and guiding and creative. Let the young beginner
learn by rote what one master says of another:--"He was never provoked into
coarseness: his thrusts were made with the rapier according to the received
rules of fence, he firmly upheld the honour of his calling, and in the
exercise of it was uniformly fearless, independent and incorrupt." The Brazen
is partial, one-sided, tricksy, misleading, immoral; serving personal and
interested purposes and contemptuously forgetful of every obligation which an
honest and honourable pen owes to the public and to itself. Such critiques
bring no profit to the reviewed. He feels that he has been written up or
written down by a literary hireling who has possibly been paid to praise or
abuse him secondarily, and primarily to exalt or debase his publisher or his

My own literary career has supplied me with many a curious study. Writing upon
subjects, say The Lake Regions of Central Africa which were then a type of the
Unknown I could readily trace in the journalistic notices all the tricks and
dodges of the trade. The rare honest would confess that they could say nothing
upon the subject, they came to me therefore for information and professed
themselves duly thankful. The many dishonest had recourse to a variety of
devices. The hard worker would read-up voyages and travels treating of the
neighboring countries, Abyssinia, the Cape and the African Coasts Eastern and
Western; thus he would write in a kind of reflected light without
acknowledging his obligation to my volumes. Another would review my book after
the easy American fashion of hashing up the author's production, taking all
its facts from me with out disclosing that one fact to the reader and then
proceed to "butter" or "slash." The worst, "fulfyld with malace of froward
entente," would choose for theme not the work but the worker, upon the good
old principle "Abuse the plaintiff's attorney." These arts fully account for
the downfall of criticism in our day and the deafness of the public to such
literary verdicts. But a few years ago a favourable review in a first-rate
paper was "fifty pounds in the author's pocket": now it is not worth as many
pence unless signed by some well-known scribbling statesman or bustling
reverend who caters for the public taste. The decline and fall is well
expressed in the old lines:--

     "Non est sanctior quod laudaris:
     Non est vilior si vituperaris."

"No one, now-a-days, cares for reviews," wrote Darwin as far back as 1849; and
it is easy to see the whys and the wherefores. I have already touched upon the
duty of reviewing the reviewer when the latter's work calls for the process,
despite the pretensions of modern criticism that it must not be criticised.
Although to buffet an anonym is to beat the air, still the very effort does
good. A well-known and popular novelist of the present day was a favourite
butt for certain journalists who, with the normal half-knowledge of men--

     "That read too little, and that write too much"--

persistently fell foul of the points in which the author was almost always
right and the reviewer was wrong. "An eagle hawketh not at flies;" the object
of ill-natured satire despised--

     "The creatures of the stall and stye,"

and persisted in contemptuous reticence, giving consent by silence to what was
easily refuted, and suffering a fond and foolish sentence to misguide the
public which it pretends to direct. "Take each man's censure but reserve thy
judgment," is a wise saying when silently practiced; it leads, however, to
suffering in public esteem. The case in question was wholly changed when, at
my suggestion, the writer was persuaded to catch a few of the culprits and to
administer the dressing and redressing they so richly deserved.

And now to my tale.

Mr. Henry Reeve, Editor of the Edinburgh Review, wrote to me shortly before my
first volume was issued to subscribers (September,'85) asking for advance
sheets, as his magazine proposed to produce a general notice of The Arabian
Nights Entertainments. But I suspected the man whose indiscretion and
recklessness had been so unpleasantly paraded in the shape of the Greville
(Mr. Worldly Wiseman's) Memoirs, and I had not forgotten the untruthful and
malignant articles of perfervid brutality which during the hot youth and calm
middle age of the Edinburgh had disgraced the profession of letters. My
answer, which was temporising and diplomatic, induced only a second and a more
urgent application. Bearing in mind that professional etiquette hardly
justifies publicly reviewing a book intended only for private reading and
vividly remembering the evil of the periodical, I replied that the sheets
should be forwarded but on one condition, namely, that the reviewer would not
dwell too lovingly and longingly upon the "archaics," which had so excited the
Tartuffean temperament of the chaste Pall Mall Gazette. Mr. Henry Reeves
replied (surlily) that he was not in the habit of dictating to his staff and I
rejoined by refusing to grant his request. So he waited until five, that is
one half of my volumes had been distributed to subscribers, and revenged
himself by placing them for review in the hands of the "Lane-Poole" clique
which, as the sequel proved could be noisy and combative as setting hens
disturbed when their nest-egg was threatened by an intruding hand.

For the clique had appropriated all right and claim to a monopoly of The
Arabian Nights Entertainments which they held in hand as a rotten borough. The
"Uncle and Master," Mr. Edward William Lane, eponymous hero of the house, had
retranslated certain choice specimens of the Recueil and the "nephews of their
uncle" resolved to make a private gold-mine thereof. The book came out in
monthly parts at half-a-crown (1839-41) and when offered for sale in 3 vols.
royal 8 vo, the edition of 5,000 hung fire at first until the high price (3
pounds 3s.) was reduced to 27 shillings for the trade. The sale then went off
briskly and amply repaid the author and the publishers--Charles Knight and Co.
And although here and there some "old Tory" grumbled that new-fangled words
(as Wezeer, K\xE1dee and Jinnee) had taken the places of his childhood's pets,
the Vizier, the Cadi, and the Genie, none complained of the workmanship for
the all-sufficient reason that naught better was then known or could be
wanted. Its succes de salon was greatly indebted to the "many hundred
engravings on wood, from original designs by William Harvey", with a host of
quaint and curious Arabesques, Cufic inscriptions, vignettes, head pieces and
culs- de-lampes. These, with the exception of sundry minor accessories,
[FN#447] were excellent and showed for the first time the realistic East and
not the absurdities drawn from the depths of artistical ignorance and
self-consciousness--those of Smirke, Deveria, Chasselot and Co., not to speak
of the horrors of the De Sacy edition, whose plates have apparently been used
by Prof. Weil and by the Italian versions. And so the three bulky and handsome
volumes found a ready way into many a drawing room during the Forties, when
the public was uncritical enough to hail the appearance of these scattered
chapters and to hold that at last they had the real thing, pure and
unadulterated. No less than three reprints of the "Standard Edition," 1859
(the last being in '83), succeeded one another and the issue was finally
stopped, not by the author's death (\xE6tat 75; London, August 10, 1876: net.
Hereford, September 17, 1801), nor by the plates, which are now the property
of Messieurs Chatto and Windus, becoming too worn for use, but simply by
deficient demand. And the clique, represented by the late Edward Lane-Poole in
1879, who edited the last edition (1883) with a Preface by Mr. Stanley
Lane-Poole, during a long run of forty-three years never paid the public the
compliment of correcting the multitudinous errors and short comings of the
translation. Even the lengthy and longsome notes, into which The Nights have
too often been merged, were left untrimmed. Valuable in themselves and full of
information, while wholly misplaced in a recueil of folk-lore, where they
stand like pegs behung with the contents of the translator's adversaria, the
monographs on details of Arab life have also been exploited and reprinted
under the "fatuous" title, "Arabian (for Egyptian) Society in the Middle Ages:
Studies on The Thousand and One Nights." They were edited by Mr. Stanley
Lane-Poole (Chatto and Windus) in 1883.

At length the three volumes fell out of date, and the work was formally
pronounced unreadable. Go\xEBthe followed from afar by Emerson, had foreseen the
"inevitable increase of Oriental influence upon the Occident," and the
eagerness with which the men of the West would apply themselves to the
languages and literature of the East. Such garbled and mutilated, unsexed and
unsoured versions and perversions like Lane's were felt to be survivals of the
unfittest. Mr. John Payne (for whom see my Foreword, vol. i. pp. xi.-xii.)
resolved to give the world the first honest and complete version of the
Thousand Nights and a Night. He put forth samples of his work in the New
Quarterly Magazine (January- April, 1879), whereupon he was incontinently
assaulted by Mr. Reginald Stuart Poole, the then front of the monopolists, who
after drawing up a list of fifteen errata (which were not errata) in two
Nights, declared that "they must be multiplied five hundred-fold to give the
sum we may expect." (The Academy, April 26, 1879; November 29, 1881; and
December 7, 1881.) The critic had the courage, or rather impudence, to fall
foul of Mr. Payne's mode and mannerism, which had long become deservedly
famous, and concludes: --"The question of English style may for the present be
dropped, as, if a translator cannot translate, it little matters in what form
his results appear. But it may lie questioned whether an Arab edifice should
be decorated with old English wall-papers."

Evidently I had scant reason to expect mercy from the clique: I wanted none
and I received none.

My reply to the arch-impostor, who

     Spreads the light wings of saffron and of blue,

will perforce be somewhat detailed: it is necessary to answer paragraph by
paragraph, and the greater part of the thirty-three pages refers more or less
directly to myself. To begin with the beginning, it caused me and many others
some surprise to see the "Thousand Nights and a Night" expelled the initial
list of thirteen items, as if it were held unfit for mention. Cet article est
principalement une diatribe contre l'ouorage de Sir Richard Burton et dans le
libre cet ouvrage n'est m\xEAme pas mentionn\xE9', writes my French friend. This
proceeding was a fair specimen of "that impartiality which every reviewer is
supposed to possess." But the ignoble "little dodge" presently suggested
itself. The preliminary excursus (p.168) concerning the "Mille et Une Nuits
(read Nuit) an audacious fraud, though not the less the best story book in the
world," affords us a useful measure of the writer's competence in the matter
of audacity and ill-judgment. The honest and single-minded Galland is here
(let us believe through that pure ignorance which haply may hope for "fool's
pardon") grossly and unjustly vilified; and, by way of making bad worse, we
are assured (p. 167) that the Frenchman "brought the Arabic manuscript from
Syria"--an infact which is surprising to the most superficial student.
"Galland was a born story teller, in the good and the bad sense" (p. 167), is
a silly sneer of the true Lane-Poolean type. The critic then compares most
unadvisedly (p. 168) a passage in Galland (De Sacy edit. vol. i. 414) with the
same in Mr. Payne's (i. 260) by way of proving the "extraordinary liberties
which the worthy Frenchman permitted himself to take with the Arabic": had he
troubled himself to collate my version (i. 290-291), which is made fuller by
the Breslau Edit. (ii. 190), he would have found that the Frenchman, as was
his wont, abridged rather than amplified;[FN#448] although, when the original
permitted exact translation, he could be literal enough. And what doubt, may I
enquire, can we have concerning "The Sleeper Awakened" (Lane, ii. 351-376),
or, as I call it, "The Sleeper and the waker" (Suppl. vol.i.1-29), when it
occurs in a host of MSS., not to mention the collection of tales which Prof.
Habicht converted into the Arabian Nights by breaking the text into a thousand
and one sections (Bresl. Edit. iv. 134-189, Nights cclxxii. ccxci.). The
reckless assertions that "the whole" of the last fourteen (Gallandian) tales
have nothing whatever to do with "The Nights" (p. 168); and that of the
histories of Zayn al-Asn\xE1m and Aladdin, "it is abundantly certain that they
belong to no manuscript of the Thousand and One Nights" (p. 169), have been
notably stultified by M. Hermann Zotenberg's purchase of two volumes
containing both these bones of long and vain contention. See Foreword to my
Suppl. vol. iii. pp. viii.-xi., and Mr. W. F. Kirby's interesting notice of M.
Zotenberg's epoch-making booklet (vol. vi. p. 287).

"The first English edition was published (pace Lowndes) within eight years of
Galland's" (p. 170) states a mere error. The second part of Galland (6 vols.
12 mo) was not issued till 1717, or two years after the translator's death. Of
the English editio princeps the critic tells nothing, nor indeed has anyone as
yet been able to tell us aught. Of the dishonouring assertion (again let us
hope made in simple ignorance) concerning "Cazotte's barefaced forgery" (p.
170), thus slandering the memory of Jacques Cazotte, one of the most upright
and virtuous of men who ever graced the ranks of literature, I have disposed
in the Foreword to my Supplemental vol. vi. "This edition (Scott's) was
tastefully reprinted by Messrs. Nimmo and Bain in four volumes in 1883" (p.
170). But why is the reader not warned that the eaux fortes are by Lalauze
(see supr\xE0, p. 326), 19 in number, and taken from the 21 illustrations in MM.
Jouaust's edit. of Galland with preface by J. Janin? Why also did the critic
not inform us that Scott's sixth volume, the only original part of the work,
was wilfully omitted? This paragraph ends with mentioning the labours of Baron
von Hammer-Purgstall, concerning whom we are afterwards told (p. 186) for the
first time that he "was brilliant and laborious." Hard-working, yes!
brilliant, by no means!

We now come to the glorification of the "Uncle and Master," concerning whom I
can only say that Lane's bitterest enemy (if the amiable Orientalist ever had
any unfriend) could not have done him more discredit than this foolish friend.
"His classical(!) translation was at once recognised as an altogether new
departure" (p. 171), and "it was written in such a manner that the Oriental
tone of The Nights should be reflected in the English" (ibid.). "It aims at
reproducing in some degree the literary flavour of the original" (p 173). "The
style of Lane's translation is an old-fashioned somewhat Biblical language"
(p. 173) and "it is precisely this antiquated ring" (of the imperfect and
mutilated "Boulak edition," unwisely preferred by the translator) "that Lane
has succeeded in preserving" "The measured and finished language Lane chose
for his version is eminently fitted to represent the rhythmical tongue of the
Arab" (Memoir, p. xxvii.). "The translation itself is distinguished by its
singular accuracy and by the marvellous way in which the Oriental tone and
colour are retained " (ibid.). The writer has taken scant trouble to read me
when he asserts that the Bulak edit was my text, and I may refer him, for his
own advantage, to my Foreword (vol. i. p. xvii.), which he has wilfully
ignored by stating unfact. I hasten to plead guilty before the charge of
"really misunderstanding the design of Lane's style" (p. 173). Much must be
pardoned to the panegyrist, the encomiast; but the idea of mentioning in the
same sentence with Biblical English, the noblest and most perfect specimen of
our prose, the stiff and bald, the vapid and turgid manner of the Orientalist
who "commences" and "concludes"--never begins and ends, who never uses a short
word if he can find a long word, who systematically rejects terse and
idiomatic Anglo-Saxon when a Latinism is to be employed and whose pompous
stilted periods are the very triumph of the "Deadly-lively"! By arts precisely
similar the learned George Sale made the Koran, that pure and unstudied
inspiration of Arabian eloquence, dull as a law document, and left the field
clear for the Rev. Mr. Rodwell. I attempted to excuse the style-laches of Lane
by noticing the lack of study in English linguistic which distinguished the
latter part of the xviiith and the first half of the xixth centuries, when men
disdaining the grammar of their own tongue, learned it from Latin and Greek;
when not a few styled Shakespeare "silly-billy," and when Lamb the essayist,
wrote, "I can read, and I say it seriously, the homely old version of the
Psalms for an hour or two together sometimes, without sense of weariness." But
the reviewer will have none of my palliative process, he is surprised at my
"posing as a judge of prose style," being "acquainted with my quaint
perversions of the English language" (p. 173) and, when combating my sweeping
assertion that "our prose" (especially the prose of schoolmasters and
professors, of savans and Orientalists) "was perhaps the worst in Europe," he
triumphantly quotes half a dozen great exceptions whose eminence goes far to
prove the rule.

As regards Lane's unjustifiable excisions the candid writer tells us
everything but the truth. As I have before noted (vol. ix. 304), the main
reason was simply that the publisher, who was by no means a business man,
found the work outgrowing his limits and insisted upon its coming to an
untimely and, alas! a tailless end. This is perhaps the principal cause for
ignoring the longer histories, like King Omar bin al-Nu'um\xE1n (occupying 371
pages in my vols. ii. and iii.); Ab\xFA Hasan and his slave-girl Tawaddud (pp.
56, vol. v. 189-245), the Queen of the Serpents with the episodes of Bulukiy\xE1
and of J\xE1nshah (pp.98, vol. v. 298-396); The Rogueries of Dalilah the Crafty
and the Adventures of Mercury Ali (pp. 55, vol. vii. 144-209). The Tale of
Harun al-Rashid and Abu Hasan of Oman (pp. 19, vol. ix. 188-207) is certainly
not omitted by dictations of delicacy, nor is it true of the parts omitted in
general that "none could be purified without being destroyed." As my French
friend remarks, "Few parts are so plain-spoken as the introduction, le cadre
de l'ouvrage, yet M. Lane was not deterred by such situation." And lastly we
have, amongst the uncalledfor excisions, King Jali'ad of Hind, etc. (pp. 102,
vol. ix. 32-134). The sum represents a grand total of 701 pages, while not a
few of the notes are filled with unimportant fabliaux and apologues.

But the critic has been grandly deceptive, either designedly or of ignorance
prepense in his arithmetic. "There are over four hundred of these (anecdotes,
fables, and stories) in the complete text, and Lane has not translated more
than two hundred" (p. 172). * * * "Adding the omitted anecdotes to the omitted
tales, it appears that Lane left out about a third of the whore 'Nights,' and
of that third at least three-fourths was incompatible with a popular edition.
When Mr. Payne and Captain Burton boast of presenting the public 'with three
times as much matter as any other version,' they perhaps mean a third as much
again" (p. 173). * * * "Captain Burton records his opinion that Lane has
'omitted half and by far the more characteristic half of the Arabian Nights,'
but Captain Burton has a talent for exaggeration, and for 'characteristic' we
should reed 'unclear.' It is natural that he should make the most of such
omissions, since they form the raison d'\xEAtre of his own translation; but he
has widely overshot the mark, and the public may rest assured that the tales
omitted from the standard version (proh pudor!) are of very slight importance
in comparison with the tales included in it" (p. 173).

What a mass of false statement!

Let us now exchange fiction for fact. Lane's three volumes contain a total,
deducting 15 for index, of pp. 1995 (viz. 618 + 643 + 734); while each (full)
page of text averages 38 lines and of notes (in smaller type) 48. The text
with a number of illustrations represents a total of pp. 1485 (viz. 441 + 449
+ 595). Mr. Payne's nine volumes contain a sum of pp. 3057, mostly without
breaks, to the 1485 of the "Standard edition." In my version the sum of pages,
each numbering 41 lines, is 3156, or 1163 more than Lane's total and 2671 more
than his text.

Again, in Lane's text the tales number 62 (viz. 35 + 14 + 13), and as has been
stated, all the longest have been omitted, save only Sindbad the Seaman. The
anecdotes in the notes amount to 44 1/2 (viz. 3 1/2 + 35 + 6): these are for
the most pert the merest outlines and include the 3 1/2 of volume i. viz. the
Tale of Ibrahim al-Mausil\xED (pp. 223-24), the Tale of Caliph Mu'\xE1wiyah (i. pp.
521-22), the Tale of Mukh\xE1rik the Musician (i. pp. 224- 26), and the half tale
of Umm 'Amr (i. p. 522). They are quoted bodily from the "Halbat al- Kumayt"
and from the "Kit\xE1b al-Unw\xE1n f\xED Mak\xE1id al-Nisw\xE1n," showing that at the early
stage of his labours the translator, who published in parts, had not read the
book on which he was working; or, at least, had not learned that all the three
and a half had been borrowed from The Nights. Thus the grand total is
represented by 106 1/2 tales, and the reader will note the difference between
106 1/2 and the diligent and accurate reviewer's "not much more than two
hundred." In my version the primary tales amount to 171; the secondaries, &c.,
to 96 and the total to 267, while Mr. Payne has 266.[FN#449] And these the
critic swells to "over four hundred!" Thus I have more than double the number
of pages in Lane's text (allowing the difference between his 38 lines to an
oft-broken page and my 41) and nearly two and a half tales to his one, and
therefore I do not mean "a third as much again."

Thus, too, we can deal with the dishonest assertions concerning Lane's
translation "not being absolutely complete" (p. 171) and that "nobody desired
to see the objectionable passages which constituted the bulk of Lane's
omissions restored to their place in the text" (p. 175).

The critic now passes to The Uncle's competence for the task, which he grossly
exaggerates. Mr. Lane had no "intimate acquaintance with Mahommedan life" (p.
174). His "Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians" should have been
entitled "Modern Cairenes;" he had seen nothing of Nile-land save what was
shown to him by a trip to Phil\xE6 in his first visit (1825-28) and another to
Thebes during his second, he was profoundly ignorant of Egypt as a whole, and
even in Cairo he knew nothing of woman-life and child-life--two thirds of
humanity. I doubt if he could have understood the simplest expression in baby
language; not to mention the many idioms peculiar to the Harem nursery. The
characteristic of his work is geniality combined with a true affection for his
subject, but no scholar can ignore its painful superficiality. His studies of
legal theology gave him much weight with the Olema, although, at the time when
he translated The Nights, his knowledge of Arabic was small. Hence the number
of lapses which disfigures his pages. These would have been excusable in an
Orientalist working out of Egypt, but Lane had a Shaykh ever at his elbow and
he was always able to command the assistance of the University Mosque,
Al-Azhar. I need not enter upon the invidious task of cataloguing these
errors, especially as the most glaring have been cursorily noticed in my
volumes. Mr. Lane after leaving Egypt became one of the best Arabic scholars
of his day, but his fortune did not equal his deserts. The Lexicon is a fine
work although sadly deficient in the critical sense, but after the labour of
thirty-four years (it began printing in 1863) it reached only the 19th letter
Ghayn (p. 2386). Then invidious Fate threw it into the hands of Mr. Stanley
Lane-Poole. With characteristic audacity he disdained to seek the services of
some German Professor, an order of men which, rarely dining out and caring
little for "Society," can devote itself entirely to letters, perhaps he
hearkened to the silly charge against the Teuton of minuteness and futility of
research as opposed to "good old English breadth and suggestiveness of
treatment." And the consequence has been a "continuation" which serves as a
standard whereby to measure the excellence of the original work and the woful
falling- off and deficiencies of the sequel-- the latter retaining of the
former naught save the covers. [FN#450]

Of Mr. Lane's Notes I have ever spoken highly: they are excellent and
marvellously misplaced--non erat his locus. The text of a story-book is too
frail to bear so ponderous a burden of classical Arabian lore, and the
annotations injure the symmetry of the book as a work of art. They begin with
excessive prolixity: in the Introduction these studies fill 27 closely printed
pages to 14 of a text broken by cuts and vignettes. In chaps. i. the
proportion is pp. 20, notes: 15 text, and in chaps. ii. it is pp. 20: 35. Then
they become under the publisher's protest, beautifully less; and in vol. iii.
chaps. 30 (the last) they are pp. 5: 57. Long disquisitions, "On the initial
Moslem formula," "On the Wickedness of Women," "On Fate and Destiny," "On
Arabian Cosmogony," "On Slaves," "On Magic," "On the Two Grand Festivals," all
these being appended to the Introduction and the first chapter, are mere hors
d'oeuvres: such "copy" should have been reserved for another edition of "The
Modern Egyptians." The substitution of chapters for Nights was perverse and
ill-judged as it could be, but it appears venial compared with condensing the
tales in a commentary, thus converting the Arabian Nights into Arabian Notes.
However, "Arabian Society in the Middle Ages," a legacy left by the "Uncle and
Master", and like the tame and inadequate "Selections from the Koran,"
utilised by the grand-nephew, has been of service to the Edinburgh. Also, as
it appears three several and distinct times in one article (pp. 166, 174, and
183), we cannot but surmise that a main object of the critique was to
advertise the volume. Men are crafty in these days when practicing the "puff

But the just complaint against Lane's work is its sin of omission. The partial
Reviewer declares (pp. 174 75) that the Arabist "retranslated The Nights in a
practical spirit, omitting what was objectionable, together with a few
tales(!) that were, on the whole, uninteresting or tautological, and enriching
the work with a multitude of valuable notes. We had now a scholarly version of
the greater part of The Nights imbued with the spirit of the East and rich in
illustrative comment; and for forty years no one thought of anything more,
although Galland still kept his hold on the nursery." Despite this spurious
apology, the critic is compelled cautiously to confess (p. 172), "We are not
sure that some of these omissions were not mistaken;" and he instances
"Abdallah the Son of Fazil" and "Abu'l-Hasan of Khorasan" (he means, I
suppose, Abu Hasan al-Ziy\xE1di and the Khorasani Man, iv. 285), whilst he
suggests, "a careful abridgment of the tale of Omar the Son of No'man" (ii.
7,, etc.). Let me add that wittiest and most rollicking of Rabelaisian skits,
"All the Persian and the Kurd Sharper" (iv. 149), struck-out in the very
wantonness of "respectability;" and the classical series, an Arabian "Pilpay,"
entitled "King Jali'\xE1d of Hind and his Wazir Shimas" (iv. 32). Nor must I omit
to notice the failure most injurious to the work which destroyed in it half
the "spirit of the East." Mr. Lane had no gift of verse or rhyme: he must have
known that the ten thousand lines of the original Nights formed a striking and
necessary contrast with the narrative part, acting as aria to recitativo. Yet
he rendered them only in the baldest and most prosaic of English without even
the balanced style of the French translations. He can be excused only for one
consideration--bad prose is not so bad as bad verse.

The ill-judged over-appreciation and glorification of Mr. Lane is followed (p.
176) by the depreciation and bedevilment of Mr. John Payne, who first taught
the world what The Nights really is. We are told that the author (like myself)
"unfortunately did not know Arabic;" and we are not told that he is a sound
Persian scholar: however, "he undoubtedly managed to pick up enough of the
language(!) to understand The Arabian Nights with the assistance of the
earlier translations of (by?) Torrens and Lane," the former having printed
only one volume out of some fifteen. This critic thinks proper now to ignore
the "old English wall-papers," of Mr. R. S. Poole, indeed he concedes to the
translator of Villon, a "genius for language," a "singular robust and
masculine prose, which for the present purpose he intentionally weighted with
archaisms and obsolete words but without greatly injuring its force or
brilliancy" (p. 177). With plausible candour he also owns that the version "is
a fine piece of English, it is also, save where the exigencies of rhyme
compelled a degree of looseness, remarkably literal" (p. 178). Thus the author
is damned with faint praise by one who utterly fails to appreciate the
portentous difference between linguistic genius and linguistic mediocrity, and
the Reviewer proceeds, "a careful collation" (we have already heard what his
"careful" means) "of the different versions with their originals leads us to
the conclusion that Mr. Payne's version is little less faithful than Lane's in
those parts which are common to both, and is practically as close a rendering
as is desirable" (p. 178). Tell the truth, man, and shame the Devil! I assert
and am ready to support that the "Villon version" is incomparably superior to
Lane's not only in its simple, pure and forcible English, but also in its
literal and absolute correctness, being almost wholly free from the blunders
and inaccuracies which everywhere disfigure Torrens, and which are rarely
absent from Lane. I also repeat that wherever the style and the subject are
the most difficult to treat, Mr. Payne comes forth most successfully from the
contest, thus giving the best proof of his genius and capacity for
painstaking. Of the metrical part, which makes the Villon version as superior
to Lane's as virgin gold to German silver, the critique offers only three
inadequate specimens specially chosen and accompanied with a growl that "the
verse is nothing remarkable" (p. 177) and that the author is sometimes "led
into extreme liberties with the original" (ibid.). Not a word of praise for
mastering the prodigious difficulties of the monorhyme!

But--and there is a remarkable power in this particle--Mr. Payne's work is
"restricted to the few wealthy collectors of proscribed books and what
booksellers' catalogues describe as faceti\xE6'" (p. 179); for "when an Arabic
word is unknown to the literary language" (what utter imbecility!), "and
belongs only to the low vocabulary of the gutter" (which the most "elegant"
writers most freely employ), "Mr. Payne laboriously searches out a
corresponding term in English 'Billingsgate,' and prides himself upon an
accurate reproduction of the tone of the original" (p. 178). This is a
remarkable twisting of the truth. Mr. Payne persisted, despite my frequent
protests, in rendering the "nursery words" and the "terms too plainly
expressing natural situations" by old English such as "kaze" and "swive,"
equally ignored by the "gutter" and by "Billingsgate": he also omitted an
offensive line whenever it did not occur in all the texts and could honestly
be left untranslated. But the unfact is stated for a purpose: here the
Reviewer mounts the high horse and poses as the Magister Morum per
excellentiam. The Battle of the Books has often been fought, the crude text
versus the bowdlerised and the expurgated; and our critic can contribute to
the great fray only the merest platitudes. "There is an old and trusty saying
that 'evil communications corrupt good manners,' end it is a well-known fact
that the discussion(?) and reading of depraved literature leads (sic)
infallibly to the depravation of the reader's mind" (p. 179). [FN#451] I
should say that the childish indecencies and the unnatural vice of the
original cannot deprave any mind save that which is perfectly prepared to be
depraved; the former would provoke only curiosity and amusement to see bearded
men such mere babes, and the latter would breed infinitely more disgust than
desire. The man must be prurient and lecherous as a dog-faced baboon in rut to
have aught of passion excited by either. And most inept is the conclusion, "So
long as Mr. Payne's translation remains defiled by words, sentences, and whole
paragraphs descriptive of coarse and often horribly depraved sensuality, it
can never stand beside Lane's, which still remains the standard version of the
Arabian Nights" (p. 179). Altro! No one knows better than the clique that
Lane, after an artificially prolonged life of some half-century, has at last
been weighed in the balance and been found wanting; that he is dying that
second death which awaits the unsatisfactory worker and that his Arabian
Nights are consigned by the present generation to the limbo of things obsolete
and forgotten.

But if Mr. Payne is damned with poor praise and mock modesty, my version is
condemned without redemption--beyond all hope of salvation: there is not a
word in favour of a work which has been received by the reviewers with a
chorus of kindly commendation. "The critical battery opens with a round-shot."
"Another complete translation is now appearing in a surreptitious way" (p.
179). How "surreptitious" I ask of this scribe, who ekes not the lack of
reason by a superfluity of railing, when I sent out some 24,000--30,000
advertisements and published my project in the literary papers? "The
amiability of the two translators (Payne and Burton) was testified by their
each dedicating a volume to the other. So far as the authors are concerned
nothing could be more harmonious and delightful; but the public naturally ask,
What do we want with two forbidden versions?" And I again inquire, What can be
done by me to satisfy this atrabilious and ill-conditioned Aristarchus? Had I
not mentioned Mr. Payne, my silence would have been construed into envy,
hatred and malice: if I am proud to acknowledge my friend's noble work the
proceeding engenders a spiteful sneer. As regards the "want," public demand is
easily proved. It is universally known (except to the Reviewer who will not
know) that Mr. Payne, who printed only 500 copies, was compelled to refuse as
many hundreds of would be subscribers; and, when my design was made public by
the Press, these and others at once applied to me. "To issue a thousand still
more objectionable copies by another and not a better hand" (notice the quip
cursive!) may "seem preposterous" (p. 180), but only to a writer so
"preposterous" as this.

"A careful (again!) examination of Captain Burton's translation shows that he
has not, as he pretends(!), corrected it to agree with the Calcutta text, but
has made a hotch-potch of various texts, choosing one or another--Cairo,
Breslau, Macnaghten or first Calcutta--according as it presented most of the
'characteristic' detail (note the dig in the side vicious), in which Captain
Burton's version is peculiarly strong" (p. 180). So in return for the severe
labour of collating the four printed texts and of supplying the palpable
omissions, which by turns disfigure each and every of the quartette, thus
producing a complete copy of the Recueil, I gain nothing but blame. My French
friend writes to me: Lorsqu'il s'agit d'\xE9tablir un texte d'apr\xE8s diff\xE9rents
manuscrits, il est certain qu'il faut prendre pour base une-seule redaction.
Mais il n'est pas de m\xEAme d'une traduction. Il est conforme aux r\xE8gles de la
saine critique litt\xE9raire, de suivre tous les textes. Lane, I repeat,
contented himself with the imperfect Bulak text while Payne and I preferred
the Macnaghten Edition which, says the Reviewer, with a futile falsehood all
his own, is "really only a revised form of the Cairo text" [FN#452] (ibid.).
He concludes, making me his rival in ignorance, that I am unacquainted with
the history of the MS. from which the four- volume Calcutta Edition was
printed (ibid.). I should indeed be thankful to him if he could inform me of
its ultimate fate: it has been traced by me to the Messieurs Allen and I have
vainly consulted Mr. Johnston who carries on the business under the name of
that now defunct house. The MS. has clean disappeared.

"On the other hand he (Captain Burton) sometimes omits passages which he
considers(!) tautological and thereby deprives his version of the merit of
completeness (e.g. vol. v. p. 327). It is needless to remark that this
uncertainty about the text destroys the scholarly value of the translation"
(p. 180). The scribe characteristically forgets to add that I have invariably
noted these excised passages which are always the merest repetitions, damnable
iterations of a twice-, and sometimes a thrice-told tale, and that I so act
upon the great principle--in translating a work of imagination and "inducing"
an Oriental tale, the writer's first duty to his readers is making his pages

"Captain Burton's version is sometimes rather loose" (p.180), says the critic
who quotes five specimens out of five volumes and who might have quoted five
hundred. This is another favourite "dodge" with the rogue-reviewer, who
delights to cite words and phrases and texts detached from their contexts. A
translator is often compelled, by way of avoiding recurrences which no English
public could endure, to render a word, whose literal and satisfactory meaning
he has already given, by a synonym or a homonym in no way so sufficient or so
satisfactory. He charges me with rendering "Siyar, which means 'doings,' by
'works and words"'; little knowing that the veteran Orientalist, M. Joseph
Derenbourgh (p. 98, Johannes de Capua, Directorium, etc.), renders "Akhl\xE1k-\xED
wa S\xEDrat\xED" (sing. of Siyar) by caract\xE8re et conducte, the latter consisting of
deeds and speech. He objects to "Kabir" (lit.=old) being turned into very old;
yet this would be its true sense were the R\xE1w\xED or story-teller to lay stress
and emphasis upon the word, as here I suppose him to have done. But what does
the Edinburgh know of the R\xE1w\xED? Again I render "Mal'\xFAnah" (not the mangled
Mal'ouna) lit. = accurst, as "damned whore," which I am justified in doing
when the version is of the category Call-a-spade-a-spade.

"Captain Burton's Arabian Nights, however, has another defect besides this
textual inaccuracy" (p. 180); and this leads to a whole page of abusive
rhetoric anent my vocabulary: the Reviewer has collected some thirty
specimens--he might have collected three hundred from the five volumes--and he
concludes that the list places Captain Burton's version "quite out of the
category of English books" (p. 181) and "extremely annoying to any reader with
a feeling for style." Much he must know of modern literary taste which
encourages the translator of an ancient work such as Mr. Gibb's Aucassin and
Nicolette (I quote but one in a dozen) to borrow the charm of antiquity by
imitating the nervous and expressive language of the pre-Elizabethans and
Shakespeareans. Let him compare any single page of Mr. Payne with Messieurs
Torrens and Lane and he will find that the difference saute aux yeux. But a
purist who objects so forcibly to archaism and archaicism should avoid such
terms as "whilom Persian Secretary" (p. 170); as anthophobia, which he is
compelled to explain by "dread of selecting only what is best" (p. 175), as
anthophobist (p. 176); as "fatuous ejaculations" (p. 183), as a "raconteur"
(p. 186), and as "intermedium" (p. 194) terms which are certainly not
understood by the general. And here we have a list of six in thirty-three
pages:--evidently this Reviewer did not expect to be reviewed.

"Here is a specimen of his (Captain Burton's) verse, in which, by the way,
there is seen another example of the careless manner in which the proofs have
been corrected" (p. 181). Generous and just to a work printed from abroad and
when absence prevented the author's revision: false as unfair to boot! And
what does the critic himself but show two several misprints in his 33 pages;
"Mr. Payne, vol. ix. p. 274" (p. 168, for vol. i. 260), and "Jamshah" (p. 172,
for J\xE1nsh\xE1h). These faults may not excuse my default: however, I can summon to
my defence the Saturday Review, that past-master in the art and mystery of
carping criticism, which, noticing my first two volumes (Jan. 2, 1886),
declares them "laudably free from misprints."

"Captain Burton's delight in straining the language beyond its capabilities(?)
finds a wide field when he comes to those passages in the original which are
written in rhyming prose" (p. 181). "Captain Burton of course could not
neglect such an opportunity for display of linguistic flexibility on the model
of 'Peter Parley picked a peck of pickled peppers"' (p. 182, where the Saj'a
or prose rhyme is most ignorantly confounded with our peculiarly English
alliteration). But this is wilfully to misstate the matter. Let me repeat my
conviction (Terminal Essay, 144-145) that The Nights, in its present
condition, was intended as a text or handbook for the R\xE1w\xED or professional
story-teller, who would declaim the recitative in quasi-conversational tones,
would intone the Saj'a and would chant the metrical portions to the twanging
of the Rab\xE1bah or one-stringed viol. The Reviewer declares that the original
has many such passages; but why does he not tell the reader that almost the
whole Koran, and indeed all classical Arab prose, is composed in such
"jingle"? "Doubtfully pleasing in the Arabic," it may "sound the reverse of
melodious in our own tongue" (p. 282); yet no one finds fault with it in the
older English authors (Terminal Essay, p. 220), and all praised the free use
of it in Eastwick's "Gulist\xE1n." Torrens, Lane and Payne deliberately rejected
it, each for his own and several reason; Torrens because he never dreamt of
the application, Lane, because his scanty knowledge of English stood in his
way; and Payne because he aimed at a severely classical style, which could
only lose grace, vigour and harmony by such exotic decoration. In these
matters every writer has an undoubted right to carry out his own view,
remembering the while that it is impossible to please all tastes. I imitated
the Saj'a, because I held it to be an essential part of the work and of my
fifty reviewers none save the Edinburgh considered the reproduction of the
original manner aught save a success. I care only to satisfy those whose
judgment is satisfactory: "the abuse and contempt of ignorant writers hurts me
very little," as Darwin says (iii. 88), and we all hold with Don Quixote that,
es mejor ser loado de los pocos sabios, que burlado de los muchos necios.

"This amusement (of reproducing the Saj'a) may be carried to any length
(how?), and we do not see why Captain Burton neglects the metre of the poetry,
or divides his translation into sentences by stops, or permits any break in
the continuity of the narrative, since none such exists in the Arabic" (p.
182). My reply is that I neglect the original metres first and chiefly because
I do not care to "caper in fetters," as said Drummond of Hawthornden; and,
secondly, because many of them are unfamiliar and consequently unpleasant to
English ears. The exceptions are mostly two, the Rajaz (Anapaests and Iambs,
Terminal Essay, x. 253), and the Taw\xEDl or long measure (ibid. pp. 242, 255),
which Mr. Lyall (Translations of Ancient Arab. Poetry, p. xix.) compares with
"Abt Vogler,"

     And there! ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head.

This metre greatly outnumbers all others in The Nights; but its lilting
measure by no means suits every theme, and in English it is apt to wax

"The following example of a literal rendering which Mr. Payne adduces (vol.
ix. 381: camp. my vol. v. 66) in order to show the difficulty of turning the
phraseology of the original into good English, should have served Captain
Burton as a model, and we are surprised he has not adopted so charmingly
cumbrous a style" (p. 102). I shall quote the whole passage in question and
shall show that by the most unimportant changes, omissions and transpositions,
without losing a word, the whole becomes excellent English, and falls far
behind the Reviewer's style in the contention for "cumbrousness":--

"When morrowed the morning he bedabbled his feet with the water they twain had
expressed from the herb and, going-down to the sea, went thereupon, walking
days and nights, he wondering the while at the horrors of the ocean and the
marvels and rarities thereof. And he ceased not faring over the face of the
waters till he arrived at an island as indeed it were Paradise. So Bulukiya
went up thereto and fell to wondering thereanent and at the beauties thereof;
and he found it a great island whose dust was saffron and its gravel were
carnelian and precious stones: its edges were gelsomine and the growth was the
goodliest of the trees and the brightest of the scented herbs and the sweetest
of them. Its rivulets were a-flowing; its brushwood was of the Comorin aloe
and the Sumatran lign- aloes; its reeds were sugar-canes and round about it
bloomed rose and narcissus and amaranth and gilliflower and chamomile and lily
and violet, all therein being of several kinds and different tints. The birds
warbled upon those trees and the whole island was fair of attributes and
spacious of sides and abundant of good things, comprising in fine all of
beauty and loveliness," etc. (Payne, vol. ix. p. 381).

The Reviewer cites in his list, but evidently has not read, the "Tales from
the Arabic," etc., printed as a sequel to The Nights, or he would have known
that Mr. Payne, for the second part of his work, deliberately adopted a style
literal as that above-quoted because it was the liveliest copy of the

We now come to the crucial matter of my version, the annotative concerning
which this "decent gentleman," as we suppose this critic would entitle himself
(p. 185), finds a fair channel of discharge for vituperative rhetoric. But
before entering upon this subject I must be allowed to repeat a twice-told
tale and once more to give the raison d'\xEAtre of my long labour. When a friend
asked me point-blank why I was bringing out my translation so soon after
another and a most scholarly version, my reply was as follows:--"Sundry
students of Orientalism assure me that they are anxious to have the work in
its crudest and most realistic form. I have received letters saying, Let us
know (you who can) what the Arab of The Nights was: if good and high-minded
let us see him: if witty and humorous let us hear him: if coarse and
uncultivated, rude, childish and indecent, still let us have him to the very
letter. We want for once the genuine man. We would have a medi\xE6val Arab
telling the tales and traditions with the lays and legends of his own land in
his own way, and showing the world what he has remained and how he has
survived to this day, while we Westerns have progressed in culture and
refinement. Above all things give us the naive and plain-spoken language of
the original--such a contrast with the English of our times--and show us, by
the side of these enfantillages, the accumulated wit and wisdom,
life-knowledge and experience of an old-world race. We want also the technique
of the Recueil, its division into nights, its monorhyme, in fact everything
that gives it cachet and character." Now I could satisfy the longing, which is
legitimate enough, only by annotation, by a running commentary, as it were,
enabling the student to read between the lines and to understand hints and
innuendoes that would otherwise have passed by wholly unheeded. I determined
that subscribers should find in my book what does not occur in any other,
making it a repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric phase, by no means
intended for the many-headed but solely for the few who are not too wise to
learn or so ignorant as to ignore their own ignorance. I regretted to display
the gross and bestial vices of the original, in the rare places where
obscenity becomes rampant, but not the less I held it my duty to translate the
text word for word, instead of garbling it and mangling it by perversion and
castration. My rendering (I promised) would be something novel, wholly
different from all other versions, and it would leave very little for any
future interpreter.[FN#453]

And I resolved that, in case of the spiteful philanthropy and the rabid
pornophobic suggestion of certain ornaments of the Home-Press being acted
upon, to appear in Court with my version of The Nights in one hand and bearing
in the other the Bible (especially the Old Testament, a free translation from
an ancient Oriental work) and Shakespeare, with Petronius Arbiter and Rabelais
by way of support and reserve. The two former are printed by millions; they
find their way into the hands of children, and they are the twin columns which
support the scanty edifice of our universal home-reading. The Arbiter is
sotadical as Ab\xFA Now\xE1s and the Cur\xE9 of Meudon is surpassing in what appears
uncleanness to the eye of outsight not of insight. Yet both have been
translated textually and literally by eminent Englishmen and gentlemen, and
have been printed and published as an "extra series" by Mr. Bohn's most
respectable firm and solo by Messieurs Bell and Daldy. And if The Nights are
to be bowdlerised for students, why not, I again ask, mutilate Plato and
Juvenal, the Romances of the Middle Ages, Boccaccio and Petrarch and the
Elizabethan dramatists one and all? What hypocrisy to blaterate about The
Nights in presence of such triumphs of the Natural! How absurd to swallow such
camels and to strain at my midge!

But I had another object while making the notes a Repertory of Eastern
knowledge in its esoteric form (Foreword, p. xvii.). Having failed to free the
Anthropological Society from the fetters of mauvaise honte and the
mock-modesty which compels travellers and ethnological students to keep
silence concerning one side of human nature (and that side the most
interesting to mankind), I proposed to supply the want in these pages. The
England of our day would fain bring up both sexes and keep all ages in
profound ignorance of sexual and intersexual relations; and the consequences
of that imbecility are peculiarly cruel and afflicting. How often do we hear
women in Society lamenting that they have absolutely no knowledge of their own
physiology; and at what heavy price must this fruit of the knowledge-tree be
bought by the young first entering life. Shall we ever understand that
ignorance is not innocence? What an absurdum is a veteran officer who has
spent a quarter-century in the East without learning that all Moslem women are
circumcised, and without a notion of how female circumcision is effected;
without an idea of the difference between the Jewish and the Moslem rite as
regards males; without an inkling of the Armenian process whereby the cutting
is concealed, and without the slightest theoretical knowledge concerning the
mental and spiritual effect of the operation. Where then is the shame of
teaching what it is shameful not to have learnt? But the ultra-delicacy, the
squeamishness of an age which is by no means purer or more virtuous than its
ruder predecessors, has ended in trenching upon the ridiculous. Let us see
what the modern English woman and her Anglo-American sister have become under
the working of a mock-modesty which too often acts cloak to real d\xE9vergondage;
and how Respectability unmakes what Nature made. She has feet but no "toes";
ankles but no "calves"; knees but no "thighs"; a stomach but no "belly" nor
"bowels"; a heart but no "bladder" nor "groin"; a liver end no "kidneys"; hips
and no "haunches"; a bust and no "backside" nor "buttocks": in fact, she is a
monstrum, a figure fit only to frighten the crows.

But the Edinburgh knows nothing of these things, and the "decent gentleman,"
like the lady who doth protest overmuch, persistently fixes his eye upon a
single side of the shield." Probably no European has ever gathered such an
appalling collection of degrading customs and statistics of vice as is
contained in Captain Burton's translation of the 'Arabian Nights' (p. 185). He
finds in the case of Mr. Payne, like myself, "no adequate justification for
flooding the world (!) with an ocean of filth" (ibid.) showing that he also
can be (as said the past-master of catch-words, the primus verborum artifex)
"an interested rhetorician inebriated with the exuberance of his own
verbosity." But audi alteram partem--my view of the question. I have no
apology to make for the details offered to the students of Moslem usages and
customs, who will find in them much to learn and more to suggest the necessity
of learning. On no wise ashamed am I of lecturing upon these esoteric matters,
the most important to humanity, at a time when their absence from the novel of
modern society veils with a double gloom the night-side of human nature. Nay,
I take pride to myself for so doing in the face of silly prejudice and
miserable hypocrisy, and I venture to hold myself in the light of a public
benefactor. In fact, I consider my labours as a legacy bequeathed to my
countrymen at a most critical time when England the puissantest of Moslem
powers is called upon, without adequate knowledge of the Moslem's inner life,
to administer Egypt as well as to rule India. And while Pharisee and Philister
may be or may pretend to be "shocked" and "horrified" by my pages, the sound
common sense of a public, which is slowly but surely emancipating itself from
the prudish and prurient reticences and the immodest and immoral modesties of
the early xixth century, will in good time do me, I am convinced, full and
ample justice.

In p. 184 the Reviewer sneers at me for writing "Roum" in lieu of Rum or R\xFAm;
but what would the latter have suggested to the home-reader save a reference
to the Jamaican drink? He also corrects me (vol. v. 248) in the matter of the
late Mr. Emanuel Deutsch (p. 184), who excised "our Saviour" from the article
on the Talmud reprinted amongst his literary remains. The Reviewer, or
inspirer of the Review, let me own, knew more of Mr. Deutsch than I, a simple
acquaintance, could know; but perhaps he does not know all, and if he did he
probably would not publish his knowledge. The truth is that Mr. Deutsch was,
during his younger years, a liberal, nay, a latitudinarian in religion,
differing little from the so-styled "Christian Unitarian." But when failing
health drove him to Egypt and his hour drew nigh he became (and all honour to
him!) the scrupulous and even fanatical Hebrew of the Hebrews; he consorted
mainly with the followers and divines of his own faith, and it is said that he
ordered himself when dying to be taken out of bed and placed upon the bare
floor. The "Saviour" of the article was perhaps written in his earlier phase
of religious thought, and it was excised as the end drew in sight.

"Captain Burton's experience in the East seems to have obliterated any (all?)
sentiments of chivalry, for he is never weary of recording disparaging
estimates of women, and apparently delights in discovering evidence of
'feminine devilry"' (p. 184). This argumentum ad feminam is sharpish practice,
much after the manner of the Christian "Fathers of the Church" who, themselves
vehemently doubting the existence of souls non- masculine, falsely and
foolishly ascribed the theory and its consequences to Mohammed and the
Moslems. And here the Persian proverb holds good "Harf-i-kufr kufr n\xEDst"--to
speak of blasphemy is not blasphemous. Curious readers will consult the
article "Woman" in my Terminal Essay (x. 167), which alone refutes this silly
scandal. I never pretended to understand woman, and, as Balzac says, no wonder
man fails when He who created her was by no means successful. But in The
Nights we meet principally Egyptian maids, matrons and widows, of whose
"devilry" I cannot speak too highly, and in this matter even the pudibund Lane
is as free-spoken as myself. Like the natives of warm, damp and malarious
lowlands and river-valleys adjacent to rugged and healthy uplands, such as
Mazander\xE1n, Sind, Malabar and California, the passions and the sexual powers
of the females greatly exceed those of their males, and hence a notable
development of the crude form of polyandry popularly termed whoredom. Nor have
the women of the Nile valley improved under our rule. The last time I visited
Cairo a Fellah wench, big, burly and boisterous, threatened one morning, in a
fine new French avenue off the Ezbekiyah Gardens, to expose her person unless
bought off with a piastre. And generally the condition of womenkind throughout
the Nile-valley reminded me of that frantic outbreak of debauchery which
characterised Afghanist\xE1n during its ill-judged occupation by Lord Auckland,
and Sind after the conquest by Sir Charles Napier.

"Captain Burton actually depends upon the respectable and antiquated
D'Herbelot for his information" (p. 184). This silly skit at the two great
French Orientalists, D'Herbelot and Galland, is indeed worthy of a clique
which, puff and struggle however much it will, can never do a tithe of the
good work found in the Biblioth\xE9que Orientale. The book was issued in an
unfinished state; in many points it has been superseded, during its life of a
century and a half, by modern studies, but it is still a mine of facts, and a
revised edition would be a boon to students. Again, I have consulted Prof.
Palmer's work, and the publications of the Pal\xE6ographical Society (p. 184);
but I nowhere find the proofs that the Naskhi character (vol. i. 128) so long
preceded the Cufic which, amongst vulgar Moslems, is looked upon like black
letter in Europe. But Semitic epigraphy is only now entering upon its second
stage of study, the first being mere tentative ignorance: about 80 years ago
the illustrious De Sacy proved, in a learned memoir, the non-existence of
letters in Arabia before the days of Mohammed. But Palmer[FN#454], Halevy,
Robertson Smith, Doughty and Euting have changed all that, and Herr Eduard
Glaser of Prague is now bringing back from Sana'\xE1 some 390 Sabaean
epigraphs--a mass of new-old literature.

And now, having passed in review, and having been much scandalised by the
"extravagant claims of the complete translations over the Standard Version"--a
term which properly applies only to the Editio princeps, 3 vols. 8vo--the
Edinburgh delivers a parting and insolent sting. "The different versions,
however, have each its proper destination--Galland for the nursery, Lane for
the library, Payne for the study, and Burton for the sewers" (p. 184). I need
hardly attempt to precise the ultimate and well merited office of his article:
the gall in that ink may enable it hygienically to excel for certain purposes
the best of "curl-papers." Then our critic passes to the history of the work
concerning which nothing need be said: it is bodily borrowed from Lane's
Preface (pp. ix. xv.), and his Terminal Review (iii. 735-47) with a few
unimportant and uninteresting details taken from Al-Makr\xEDz\xED, and probably from
the studies of the late Rogers Bey (pp. 191-92). Here the cult of the Uncle
and Master emerges most extravagantly. "It was Lane who first brought out the
importance of the 'Arabian Nights' as constituting a picture of Moslem life
and manners" (p. 192); thus wholly ignoring the claims of Galland, to whom and
whom alone the honour is due. But almost every statement concerning the French
Professor involves more or less of lapse. "It was in 1704 that Antoine
Galland, sometime of the French embassy at Constantinople, but then professor
at the Coll\xE9ge de France, presented the world with the contents of an Arab
Manuscript which he had brought from Syria and which bore the title of 'The
Thousand Nights and One Night'" (p. 167), thus ignoring the famous Il a fallu
le faire venir de Syrie. At that time (1704) Galland was still at Caen in the
employ of "L'intendant Fouquet"; and he brought with him no MS., as he himself
expressly assures us in Preface to his first volume. Here are two telling
mistakes in one page, and in the next (p. 168) we find "As a professed
translation Galland's 'Mille et une Nuits' (N.B. the Frenchman always wrote
Mille et une Nuit)[FN#455] is an audacious fraud. "It requires something more
than" audacity "to offer such misstatement even in the pages of the Edinburgh,
and can anything be falser than to declare "the whole of the last fourteen
tales have nothing whatever to do with the 'Nights'"?

These b\xE9vues, which give us the fairest measure for the Reviewer's competence
to review, are followed (p. 189) by a series of obsolete assertions. "The
highest authority on this point (the date) is the late Mr. Lane, who states
his unqualified conviction that the tales represent the social life of
mediaerval Egypt, and he selects a period approaching the close of the
fifteenth century as the probable date of collection, though some of the tales
are, he believes, rather later" (p. 189). Mr. Lane's studies upon the subject
were painfully perfunctory. He distinctly states (Preface, p. xii.) that "the
work was commenced and completed by one man," or at least that "one man
completed what another commenced." With a marvellous want of critical acumen
he could not distinguish the vast difference of style and diction, treatment
and sentiments, which at once strikes every intelligent reader, and which
proves incontestably that many hands took part in the Great Saga-book. He
speaks of "Galland's very imperfect MS.," but he never took the trouble to
inspect the three volumes in question which are still in the Biblioth\xE8que
Nationale. And when he opines that "it (the work) was most probably not
commenced earlier than the fifteenth century of our era" (Pref. p. xiii.) M.
Hermann Zotenberg, judging from the style of writing, would attribute the MS.
to the beginning[FN#456] of the xivth century. The French Savant has printed a
specimen page in his Histoire d'Al\xE2 al-D\xEEn (p. 6; see my Suppl. vol. iii.,
Foreword p. ix.); and now, at the request of sundry experts, he is preparing
for publication other proofs which confirm his opinion. We must correct Lane's
fifteenth century to thirteenth century --a difference of only 200

After this unhappy excursus the Reviewer proceeds to offer a most
unintelligent estimate of the Great Recueil. "Enchantment" may be "a constant
motive," but it is wholly secondary and subservient: "the true and universal
theme is love;" "'all are but the ministers of love' absolutely subordinate to
the great theme" (p. 193). This is the usual half-truth and whole unfact. Love
and war, or rather war and love, form the bases of all romantic fiction even
as they are the motor power of the myriad forms and fashions of dancing. This
may not appear from Lane's mangled and mutilated version which carefully omits
all the tales of chivalry and conquest as the History of Ghar\xEDb and his
brother 'Aj\xEDb (vol. vi. 257) and that of Omar ibn Al-Nu'um\xE1n, "which is, as a
whole so very unreadable" (p. 172) though by no means more so than our
European romances. But the reverse is the case with the original composition.
Again, "These romantic lovers who will go through fire to meet each other, are
not in themselves interesting characters: it may be questioned whether they
have any character at all" (p. 195). "The story and not the delineation of
character is the essence of the 'Arabian Nights'" (p. 196). I can only marvel
at the utter want of comprehension and appreciation with which this critic
read what he wrote about: one hemisphere of his brain must have been otherwise
occupied and his mental cecity makes him a phenomenon even amongst reviewers.
He thus ignores all the lofty morale of the work, its marvellous pathos and
humour, its tender sentiment and fine touches of portraiture, the personal
individuality and the nice discrimination between the manifold heroes and
heroines which combine to make it a book for all time.

The critic ends his article with doing what critics should carefully avoid to
do. After shrewdly displaying his powers of invective and depreciation he has
submitted to his readers a sample of his own workmanship. He persists in
writing "Zobeyda," "Khalifa," "Aziza" (p. 194) and "Kahramana" (p. 199)
without the terminal aspirate which, in Arabic if not in Turkish, is a sine
qu\xE2 non (see my Suppl. vol. v. 302). He preserves the pretentious blunder "The
Khalif" (p. 193), a word which does not exist in Arabic. He translates (p.
181), although I have taught him to do better, "H\xE1dimu 'I-Lizz\xE1ti wa Mufarriku
'l-Jama'\xE1t," by "Terminator of Delights and Separator of Companies" instead of
Destroyer of delights and Severer of societies. And lastly he pads the end of
his article (pp. 196-199) with five dreary extracts from Lane (i. 372-73) who
can be dull even when translating the Immortal Barber.

The first quotation is so far changed that the peppering of commas (three to
the initial line of the original) disappears to the reader's gain, Lane's
textual date (App. 263) is also exchanged for that of the notes (A.H. 653);
and the "\xE6ra of Alexander," A.M. 7320, an absurdity which has its value in
proving the worthlessness of such chronology, is clean omitted, because Lane
used the worthless Bull Edit. The latinisms due to Lane show here in
force--"Looked for a considerable time" (Maliyyan = for a long while); "there
is an announcement that presenteth itself to me" (a matter which hath come to
my knowledge) and "thou hast dissipated[FN#458] my mind" (Azhakta r\xFAh\xED = thou
scatterest my wits, in the Calc. Edit. Saghgharta r\xFAh\xED = thou belittles" my
mind). But even Lane never wrote "I only required thee to shave my head"--the
adverb thus qualifying, as the ignoramus loves to do, the wrong verb--for "I
required thee only to shave my head." In the second \xE9chantillon we have "a
piece of gold" as equivalent of a quarter-diner and "for God's sake" which
certainly does not preserve local colour. In No. 3 we find "'May God,' said
I," etc.; "There is no deity but God! Mohammed is God's apostle!" Here Allah
ought invariably to be used, e.g. "Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah," unless
the English name of the Deity be absolutely required as in "There is no god
but the God." The Moslem's "Wa'll\xE1hi" must not be rendered "By God," a verbal
translation and an absolute nonequivalent; the terms Jehovah, Allah and God
and the use of them involving manifold fine distinctions. If it be true that
God made man, man in his turn made and mismade God who thus becomes a Son of
Man and a mere racial type. I need not trouble my reader with further notices
of these extracts whose sole use is to show the phenomenal dullness of Lane's
latinised style: I prefer even Torrens (p. 273).

"We have spoken severely with regard to the last" (my version), says the
Reviewer (p.185), and verily I thank him therefor. Laudari ab illaudato has
never been my ambition. A writer so learned and so disinterested could hurt my
feelings and mortify my pride only by approving me and praising me. Nor have I
any desire to be exalted in the pages of the Edinburgh, so famous for its
incartades of old. As Dryden says, "He has done me all the honour that any man
can receive from him, which is to be railed at by him." I am content to share
the vituperation of this veteran--incapable in company with the poetaster
George Gordon who suffered for "this Lord's station;" with that "burnish fly
in the pride of May," Macaulay, and with the great trio, Darwin, Huxley and
Hooker, who also have been the butts of his bitter and malignant abuse (April
'63 and April '73). And lastly I have no stomach for sweet words from the
present Editor of the Edinburgh Mr. Henry Reeve, a cross and cross-grained old
man whose surly temper is equalled only by his ignoble jealousy of another's
success. Let them bedevil the thin-skinned with their godless ribaldry; for
myself peu m'importe--my shoulders are broad enough to bear all their envy,
hatred and malice.

During the three years which have elapsed since I first began printing my book
I have not had often to complain of mere gratuitous impertinence, and a single
exception deserves some notice. The following lines which I addressed to The
Academy (August 11, '88) will suffice to lay my case before my readers:--

                  The Bestial Element in Man.

"One hesitates to dissent from so great an authority as Sir Richard Burton on
all that relates to the bestial element in man." So writes (p. xii.,
Introduction to the Fables of Pilpay), with uncalled-for impertinence, Mr.
Joseph Jacobs, who goes out of his way to be offensive, and who confesses to
having derived all his knowledge of my views not from "the notorious Terminal
Essay of the Nights," but from the excellent article by Mr. Thomas Davidson on
"Beast-fables," in Chambers's Cyclop\xE6dia, Edinburgh, 1888. This lofty
standpoint of morality was probably occupied for a reason by a writer who
dedicates "To my dear wife" a volume rich in anecdotes grivoises, and not poor
in language the contrary of conventional. However, I suffer from this Maccabee
in good society together with Prof. Max M\xFCller (pp. xxvi. and xxxiii.), Mr.
Clouston (pp. xxxiii. and xxxv.), Byron (p. xlvi.), Theodor Benfey (p.
xlvii.), Mr. W. G. Rutherford (p. xlviii.), and Bishop Lightfoot (p. xlix.).
All this eminent half-dozen is glanced at, with distinct and several sneers,
in a little volume which, rendered useless by lack of notes and index, must
advertise itself by the r\xE9clame of abuse.

As regards the reminiscence of Homo Darwinienesis by Homo Sapiens, doubtless
it would ex hypothesi be common to mankind. Yet to me Africa is the old home
of the Beast-fable, because Egypt was the inventor of the alphabet, the cradle
of letters, the preacher of animism and metempsychosis, and, generally, the
source of all human civilisation.

Richard F. Burton

And now I must proceed a trifle further a-field and meet

                  The Critic in Anglo-America.

The Boston Daily Advertiser (Jan. 26,'86) contains the following choice
morceau which went the round of the Transatlantic Press:--

G. W. S. writes from London to the New York Tribune in regard to Captain
Burton's notorious translation of the "Arabian Nights." Of Captain Burton's
translation of "The Arabian Nights," two volumes have now appeared. Before
anything had been seen of them, I gave some account of this scheme, and of the
material on which he had worked, with a statement of the reasons which made
all existing versions unsatisfactory to the student, and incomplete. Captain
Burton saw fit to reprint these desultory paragraphs as a kind of circular or
advertisement on his forthcoming book. He did not think it necessary to ask
leave to do this, nor did I know to what use my letter had been put till it
was too late to object. In any ordinary case it would have been of no
consequence, but Captain Burton's version is of such a character that I wish
to state the facts, and to say that when I wrote my letter I had never seen a
line of his translation, and had no idea that what I said of his plans would
be used for the purpose it has been, or for any purpose except to be printed
in your columns. As it is, I am made to seem to give some sort of approval to
a book which I think offensive, and not only offensive, but grossly and
needlessly offensive. If anybody has been induced to subscribe for it by what
I wrote I regret it, and both to him and to myself I think this explanation

Mr. Smalley is the London correspondent of the New York Tribune, which
represents Jupiter Tonans in the Western World. He may be unable to write with
independent tone--few Anglo-Americans can afford to confront the crass and
compound ignorance of a "free and independent majority"--but even he is not
called upon solemnly to state an untruth. Before using Mr. Smalley's article
as a circular, my representative made a point of applying to him for
permission, as he indeed was bound to do by the simplest rules of courtesy.
Mr. Smalley replied at once, willingly granting the favour, as I can prove by
the note still in my possession; and presently, frightened by the puny yelping
of a few critical curs at home, he has the effrontery to deny the fact.

In my last volumes I have been materially aided by two Anglo-American friends,
MM Thayer and Cotheal, and I have often had cause to thank the Tribune and the
Herald of New York for generously appreciating my labours. But no gratitude
from me is due to the small fry of the Transatlantic Press which has welcomed
me with spiteful little pars mostly borrowed from unfriends in England and
mainly touching upon style and dollars. In the Mail Express of New York
(September 7, '85) I read, "Captain Richard Burton, traveller and translator,
intends to make all the money that there may be in his translation of the
'Arabian Nights.' * * * If he only fills his list, and collects his money, he
will be in easy circumstances for the remainder of his days." In a subsequent
issue (October 24) readers are told that I have been requested not to publish
the rest of the series under pain of legal prosecution. In the same paper
(October 31, '85; see also November 7, '85) I find:--

The authorities have discovered where Capt. Burton's "Thousand and One Nights"
is being printed, despite the author's efforts to keep the place a secret, but
are undecided whether to suppress it or to permit the publication of the
coming volumes. Burton's own footnotes are so voluminous that they exceed the
letterpress of the text proper, and make up the bulk of the work.[FN#459] The
foulness of the second volume of his translation places it at a much higher
premium in the market than the first.

The Tribune of Chicago (October 26,'85) honours me by declaring "It has been
resolved to request Captain Burton not to publish the rest of his translation
of the 'Thousand and One Nights,' which is really foul and slipshod as to
style." The New York Times (October 17 and November 9, '85) merely echoes the
spite of its English confrere:--

Capt. Burton's translation of the "Arabian Nights" bears the imprint
"Benares." Of course the work never saw Benares. America, France, Belgium and
Germany have all been suggested as the place of printing, and now the Pall
Mall Gazette affirms that the work was done "north of the Tweed." There is,
without doubt, on British soil, it says, "a press which year after year
produces scores of obscene publications."

And the same is the case with the St. Louis Post Dispatch (November 11, '85)
the Mail Express of New York (November 23,'85); the Weekly Post of Boston
(November 27 '85), which again revives a false report, and with the Boston
Herald (December 16,'85). The Chicago Daily News (January 30, '86) contains a
malicious sneer at the Kamashastra Society. The American Register (Paris, July
25, '86) informs its client\xE8le, "If, as is generally supposed, Captain
Burton's book is printed abroad, the probability is that every copy will on
arrival be confiscated as 'indecent' by the Custom-house." And to curtail a
long list of similar fadaises I will quote the Bookmart (of Pittsburg, Pa.,
U.S.A., October, '86): "Sir Richard Burton's 'Nights' are terribly in want of
the fig-leaf, if anything less than a cabbage leaf will do, before they can be
fit (fitted?) for family reading. It is not possible (Is it not possible?)
that by the time a household selection has been sifted out of the great work,
everything which makes the originality and the value--such as it is--of
Richard's series of volumes will have disappeared, and nothing will remain but
his diverting lunacies of style." The Bookmart, I am informed, is edited by
one Halkett Lord, an unnaturalised Englishman who finds it pays best to abuse
everything and everyone English. And lastly, the Springfield Republican (April
5, '88) assures me that I have published "fully as much as the (his?) world
wants of the 'Nights'."

In the case of "The Nights," I am exposed to that peculiar Protestant form of
hypocrisy, so different from the Tartuffean original of Catholicism, and still
as mighty a motor force, throughout the length and breadth of the
North-American continent, as within the narrow limits of England. There also
as here it goes hand-in-hand with "Respectability" to blind judgment and good

A great surgeon of our day said (or is said to have said) in addressing his
students:-- "Never forget, gentlemen, that you have to deal with an ignorant
public." The dictum may fairly be extended from medical knowledge to general
information amongst the many headed of England; and the Publisher, when
rejecting a too recondite book, will repeat parrot-fashion, The English public
is not a learned body. Equally valid is the statement in the case of the
Anglo-American community which is still half-educated and very far from being
erudite. The vast country has produced a few men of great and original genius,
such as Emerson and Theodore Parker, Edgar Allan Poe and Walt Whitman; but the
sum total is as yet too small to leaven the mighty mass which learns its
rudiments at school and college and which finishes its education with the
newspaper and the lecture. When Emerson died it was said that the intellectual
glory of a continent had departed; but Edgar A. Poe, the peculiar poetic glory
of the States, the first Transatlantic who dared be himself and who disdained
to borrow from Schiller and Byron, the outlander poet who, as Edgar Allan Poe,
is now the prime favourite in France, appears to be still under ban because he
separated like Byron from his spouse, and he led a manner of so-called
"Bohemian" life. Indeed the wide diffusion of letters in the States, that
favourite theme for boasting and bragging over the unenlightened and
analphabetic Old World, has tended only to exaggerate the defective and
disagreeable side of a national character lacking geniality and bristling with
prickly individuality. This disposition of mind, whose favourable and laudable
presentations are love of liberty and self-reliance, began with the beginnings
of American history. The "Fathers," Pilgrim and Puritan, who left their
country for their country's good and their own, fled from lay tyranny and
clerkly oppression only to oppress and tyrannise over others in new and
distant homes. Hardly had a century and a half elapsed before the sturdy
colonists, who did not claim freedom but determined to keep it, formally
revolted and fought their way to absolute independence--not, by the by, a feat
whereof to be overproud when a whole country rose unanimously against a
handful of troops. The movement, however, reacted powerfully upon the politics
of Europe, which stood agape for change, and undoubtedly precipitated the
great French Revolution. As soon as the States became an empire, their
democratic and republican institutions at once attracted hosts of emigrants
from the Old World, thus peopling the land with a selection of species: the
active and the adventurous, the malcontent and the malefactor, readily
expatriate themselves, while the pauvre diable remains at home. The
potato-famine in Ireland (1848) gave an overwhelming impetus to the exode of a
race which had never known a racial baptism; and, lastly, the Germans flying
from the conscription, the blood tax of the Fatherland, carried with them over
the ocean a transcendentalism which has engendered the wildest theories of
socialism and communism. And the emigration process still continues. Whole
regions, like the rugged Bocche di Cattaro in Dalmatia and pauper Iceland, are
becoming depopulated to me the wonder is that a poor man ever consents to live
out of America or a rich man to live.

The result of such selection has been two-fold. The first appears in a
splendid self- esteem, a complacency, a confidence which passes all bounds of
the golden mean. "I am engrossed in calmly contemplating the grandeur of my
native country and her miraculous growth," writes to me an old literary
friend. The feeling normally breaks out in the grossest laudation of
everything American. The ultra-provincial twang which we still hear amongst
the servant-classes of Lancashire and Yorkshire, and which is so notable in
the nouveau riche, modified by traditional nasalisation and, as in Australia,
by climatic influences, is American and, therefore, the purest of English
utterances. The obsolete vocabulary often obsolete in England without just
reason--contrasting with a modern disfigured etymology which strips vocables
of their genealogy and history, is American and ergo admirably progressive.
The spurious facetiousness which deals mainly in mere jargon words ill-spelt
and worse pronounced; in bizarre contrast of ideas, and in ultra-Rabelaisian
exaggeration, is American wit and humour--therefore unsurpassable. The
Newspaper Press, that great reflector of nationalities, that prime expression
of popular taste, too often of an \xE9c\x9Curant vulgarity, personal beyond all
bounds of common decency, sensational as a transpontine drama, is American;
America is the greatest nation upon earth's face, ergo the daily sheet is
setting-up the standard of English speech and forming the language of the
Future, good and too good for all the world. This low standard of the Press is
the more regretable as its exalted duty is at present to solve the highest
problems social and industrial, such as co-operation in labour, the
development of fisheries, direct taxation versus indirect and a host of
enigmas which the young world, uncumbered by the burdens of the Old World,
alone shall unravel.

The second result is still more prejudicial and perilous. This is the
glorification of mediocrity, of the average man and woman whose low standard
must be a norm to statesman and publicist. Such cult of the common and the
ignoble is the more prejudicial because it "wars against all distinction and
against the sense of elevation to be gained by respecting and admiring
superiority." Its characteristic predominance in a race which, true to its
Anglo-Saxon origin, bases and builds the strongest opinions upon the weakest
foundations, hinders the higher Avatars of genius and interferes with the
"chief duty of a nation which is to produce great men." It accounts for the
ever-incroaching reign of women in literature--meaning as a rule cheap work
and second-rate. And the main lack is not so much the "thrill of awe," which
G\xF6ethe pronounces to be the best thing humanity possesses, but that discipline
of respect, that sense of loyalty, not in its confined meaning of attachment
to royalty, but in a far higher and nobler signification, the recognising and
welcoming elevation and distinction whatever be the guise they may assume.
"The soul lives by admiration and hope and love."

And here we see the shady side of the educational process, the diffusion of
elementary and superficial knowledge, of the veneer and polish which mask,
until chipped-off, the raw and unpolished material lying hidden beneath them.
A little learning is a dangerous thing because it knows all and consequently
it stands in the way of learning more or much. Hence, it is sorely impatient
of novelty, of improvement, of originality. It is intolerant of contradiction,
irritable, thin-skinned, and impatient of criticism, of a word spoken against
it. It is chargeable with the Law of Copyright, which is not only legalised
plunder of the foreigner, but is unfair, unjust and ungenerous to native
talent for the exclusive benefit of the short-sighted many-headed. I am far
from charging the United States with the abomination called "International
Copyright;" the English publisher is as sturdy an enemy to "protection" as the
Transatlantic statesman; but we expect better things from a new people which
enjoys the heritage of European civilisation without the sufferings
accompanying the winning of it. This mediocrity has the furious, unpardoning
hatred of l'amour propre offens\xE9. Even a word in favour of my old friends the
Mormons is an unpardonable offence: the dwarfish and dwarfing demon
"Respectability" has made their barbarous treatment a burning shame to a
so-called "free" country: they are subjected to slights and wrongs only for
practicing polygamy, an institution never condemned by Christ or the early
Christians. The calm and dispassionate judgments of Sir Lepel Griffith and the
late Matthew Arnold, who ventured to state, in guarded language, that the
boasted civilisation of the United States was not quite perfect, resulted in
the former being called a snob and the latter a liar. English stolidity would
only have smiled at the criticism even had it been couched in the language of
persiflage. And when M. Max O'Rell traverses the statements of the two
Englishmen and exaggerates American civilisation, we must bear in mind first
that la vulgarit\xE9 ne se traduit pas, and secondly, that the foes of our foemen
are our friends. Woe be to the man who refuses to fall down and do worship
before that brazen-faced idol (Eidolon Novi Mundi), Public Opinion in the
States; unless, indeed, his name be Brown and he hail from Briggsville.

Some years ago I proposed to write a paper upon the reflex action of
Anglo-America upon England using as a base the last edition of Mrs. Trollope,
who was compelled to confess that almost every pecularity which she had abused
in her first issue had become naturalised at home. Yankee cuteness has already
displaced in a marvellous way old English rectitude and plain-dealing;
gambling on the Stock Exchange, cornering, booms and trusts have invaded the
trading-classes from merchant-princes to shopkeepers, and threaten, at their
actual rate of progress, not to leave us an honest man. But now the student's
attention will be called to the great and ever-growing influence of the New
World upon the Old, and notably upon Europe. Some 50,000 Americans annually
visit the continent, they are rapidly becoming the most important item of the
floating population, and in a few years they will number 500,000. Meanwhile
they are revolutionising all the old institutions; they are abolishing the
classical cicerone whose occupation is gone amongst a herd which wants only to
see streets and people: they greatly increase the cost of traveling; they pay
dollars in lieu of francs, and they are satisfied with inferior treatment at
superior prices:--hence the American hotel abroad is carefully shunned by
Englishmen and natives. At home the "well-to-do class" began by regarding
their kinsmen d'outre mer with contemptuous dislike; then they looked upon
them as a country squire would regard a junior branch which has emigrated and
has thriven by emigration; and now they are welcomed in Society because they
amuse and startle and stir up the duller depths. But however warm may be
private friendship between Englishmen and Anglo-Americans there is no public
sympathy nor is any to be expected from the present generation. "New England
does not understand Old England and never will," the reverse being equally the
fact. "The Millennium must come," says Darwin (ii. 387), "before nations love
each other:" I add that first Homo alalus seu Pithecanthropus must become Homo
Sapiens and cast off his moral slough--egoism and ignorance. Mr. Cleveland, in
order to efface the foul stigma of being the "English President," found it
necessary to adopt the strongest measures in the matter of "Fisheries;" and
the "Irish vote" must quadrennially be bought at the grave risk of national
complications. Despite the much-bewritten "brotherhood of the two great
English-speaking races of the world," the old leaven of cousinly ill-feeling,
the jealousy which embitters the Pole against his Russian congener, is still
rampant. Uncle Sam actively dislikes John Bull and dispraises England. An
Anglo-American who has lived years amongst us and in private intimacy must,
when he returns home, speak disparagingly of the old country unless he can
afford the expensive luxury of telling unpopular truths and of affronting
Demos, the hydra-headed.

But there are even now signs of better things in the Great Republic. Mr. James
R. Lowell, an authority (if there be any) upon the subject of Democracy, after
displaying its fine points and favourable aspects in his addresses to English
audiences, has at length had the uncommon courage to discuss family affairs,
and to teach Boston and New York what "weaknesses and perils there may be in
the practical working of a system never before set in motion under such
favourable circumstances, nor on so grand a scale." He is emboldened to say
firmly and aloud, despite the storming of false and hollow self-praise, that
American civilisation, so strong on the material side, is sadly wanting on the
other, and still lacks much to make it morally acceptable or satisfactory. And
we have some truths concerning that Fool's Paradise, the glorification of the
"average man." Every citizen of the world must wish full success to the
"Independents" (in politics) who sit at the feet of so wise and patriotic a

And here I feel myself bound to offer some explanation concerning

          The Household Edition of the Arabian Nights.

lest any subscriber charge me, after contracting not to issue or to allow the
issue of a cheaper form, with the sharp practice which may be styled

     To keep the word of promise to our ear
     And break it to our hope.

Hardly had my third volume of "The Nights" (proper) been issued to my patrons
when a benevolent subscriber, whose name I am bound to conceal, apprised me
that he had personal and precise information concerning a project to pirate
the production. England and Anglo-America, be it observed, are the only
self-styled civilised countries in the world where an author's brain-work is
not held to be his private property: his book is simply no book unless
published and entered, after a cost of seven presentation copies, at
"Stationers' Hall"--its only \xE6gis. France, Italy and Austria treat such
volumes as private MSS.: here any dishonest house may reproduce them in
replica without the slightest regard to the writer's rightful rights. In my
case this act of robbery was proposed by a German publisher domiciled in
London, supported by a Frenchman equally industrious, who practises in Paris,
and of whose sharp doings in money-matters not a few Englishmen have had ample
reason bitterly to complain. This par nobile agreed to print in partnership an
issue of handier form and easier price than my edition, and their plan if
carried out would have seriously damaged the property of my subscribers: the
series which cost them 10 pounds 10s. would have fallen probably to one-half
value. The two pirates met by agreement in Paris where the design was duly
discussed and determined; but, fortunately for me, an unexpected obstacle
barred the way. The London solicitor, professionally consulted by the
dishonest firm, gave his opinion that such a work publicly issued would be a
boon to the Society for the Suppression of Vice, and would not escape the
unsavoury attentions of old Father Antic--the Law.

But, although these two men were deterred by probable consequences, a bolder
spirit might make light of them. I had never intended to go beyond my original
project, that is of printing one thousand copies and no more, nor did I
believe that any cunning of disguise could make "The Nights" presentable in
conventionally decent society. It was, however, represented to me by many
whose opinions I valued that thus and thus only the author and his subscribers
could be protected from impudent fraud, and finally an unwilling consent was
the result.

Mr. Justin Huntley McCarthy, a name well known in the annals of contemporary
literature, undertook the task of converting the grand old barbarian into a
family man to be received by the "best circles." His proofs, after due
expurgation, were passed on to my wife, who I may say has never read the
original, and she struck out all that appeared to her over-free, under the
promise that no mother should hesitate in allowing the book to her daughters.
It would, perhaps, surprise certain "modest gentlemen" and blatantly virtuous
reviewers that the amount of raw material excised from the text and the notes
chiefly addressed to anthropologists and Orientalists, amounts to only 215
pages out of a grand total numbering 3156.

Between 1886 and 1888 appeared the revision in six pretty volumes, bearing
emblematic colours, virgin-white adorned with the golden lilies of St. Joseph
and the "chaste crescent of the young moon." The price also was reduced to the
lowest (\xA33 3s.) under the idea that the work would be welcome if not to
families at any rate to libraries and reading-rooms, for whose benefit the
older translations are still being reproduced. But the flattering tale of Hope
again proved to be a snare and a delusion; I had once more dispensed with the
services of Mr. Middleman, the publisher, and he naturally refused to aid and
abet the dangerous innovation. The hint went abroad that the book belonged to
the category which has borrowed a name from the ingenious Mr. Bowdler, and
vainly half a century of reviewers spoke bravely in its praise. The public
would have none of it: even innocent girlhood tossed aside the chaste volumes
in utter contempt, and would not condescend to aught save the thing, the whole
thing, and nothing but the thing, unexpurgated and uncastrated. The result was
an unexpected and unpleasant study of modern taste in highly respectable
England. And the fact remains that of an edition which began with a thousand
copies only 457 were sold in the course of two years. Next time I shall see my
way more clearly to suit the peculiar tastes and prepossessions of the reading
world at home.

Before dismissing the subject of the Household Edition, I would offer a few
words of explanation on the part of the Editress. While touching-up and
trimming the somewhat hurried work of our friend, Mr. McCarthy, she was
compelled to accompany me abroad, and to nurse me through a dangerous illness,
which left but little time for the heavy claims of business. Unable to
superintend, with the care required, the issue of her six volumes she
entrusted the task to two agents in whose good will and experience she had and
still has the fullest confidence; but the results were sundry letters of
appeal and indignation from subscribers touching matters wholly unknown and
unintelligible to her. If any mistakes have been made in matters of detail she
begs to express her sincerest regret, and to assure those aggrieved that
nothing was further from her intention than to show discourtesy where she felt
cordial gratitude was due.

                   *     *     *     *     *
Nothing now remains for me but the pleasant task of naming the many friends
and assistants to whom this sixteenth and last volume has been inscribed. The
late Reverend G. Percy Badger strongly objected to the literal translation of
"The Nights" (The Academy, December 8, '81); not the less, however, he
assisted me in its philology with all readiness. Dr. F. Grenfell Baker lent me
ready and valuable aid in the mechanical part of my hard labour. Mr. James F.
Blumhardt, a practical Orientalist and reacher of the Prakrit dialects at
Cambridge, englished for me the eight Gallandian tales (Foreword, Supp. vol.
iii.) from the various Hindostan versions. To Mr. William H. Chandler, of
Pembroke College, Oxford, I have expressed (Supp. vol. iii.) the obligations
due to a kind and generous friend: his experiments with photography will serve
to reconcile the churlishness and retrograde legislation of the great Oxford
Library with the manners and customs of more civilised peoples. Mr. W. A.
Clouston, whose degree is high in "Storiology," supplied my second and third
Supplemental volumes with valuable analogues and variants. Mr. Alexander J.
Cotheal, Consul-General for Nicaragua at New York, sent a valuable MS. to me
across the water, and was persuaded to translate, for my sixth Supplemental
volume, a novel version of the "Tale of Att\xE1f." Mr. A. G. Ellis, of the
British Museum, amongst other favours, kindly revised the Foreword of my sixth
volume. Mr. E. J. W. Gibb, an Orientalist of the modern and realistic school,
who is not deterred by literal translation, permitted me to print his version
of the Turkish Zayn al-Asn\xE1m (Supp. vol. iii.) and translations of three tales
which he judged inexpedient to publish (Supp. vol. iv.). M. O. Houdas,
Professeur d' Arabe Vulgaire \xE0 l'\xE9cole des langues Orientales vicantes, Paris,
copied for me the Arabic text of Zayn al-Asn\xE1m and the whole MS. used by MM.
Chavis and Cazotte: he also obligingly assisted me in overcoming the various
difficulties of a crabbed and imperfect text. My friend Mr. W. F. Kirby
appended to volume x. of "The Nights" (proper) his most valuable contributions
to the bibliology of the work with its various imitations and a table showing
the contents of the principal editions and translations of "The Nights": he
also enriched my Supplemental volumes v. and vi. with his excellent
annotations. Mr. Kingsbury (and Notcutt) photographed for my use 400 and odd
pages of the Wortley-Montague MS., and proved how easy it was to produce a
perfect fac-simile of the whole. Mr. George Lewis gave me the soundest advice
touching legal matters and Mr. Philip M. Justice was induced to take an active
interest in the "Household Edition." The eminent Orientalist, Dr. Pertsch,
Librarian of the Grand-Ducal Collection, Saxe-Gotha, in lively contrast to my
countrymen of the Bodleian, offered to send me the two volumes of a valuable
MS. containing the most detailed texts of Judar and his brethren (vol. vi.
213) and of Zahir and his son Ali. Dr. Reinhold Rost, Librarian of the Indian
Office, took much trouble about the W. M. MS. but all in vain. Mr. Alexander
W. Thayer, of Trieste, who has studied for years the subject of the so-called
Jewish "Exodus," obliged me with a valuable note detailing his original views.
His Excellency Yacoub Artin Pasha, Minister of Public Instruction, Cairo, a
friend of many years standing, procured for me the decorations in the Cufic,
Naskh\xED and other characters, which add to much of novelty and ornament to the
outer semblance of my sixteen volumes. Mr. Hermann Zotenberg, Keeper of
Oriental MS. at the Biblioth\xE8que Nationale, Paris, lent me his own
transcription of the "Alaeddin," and generously supplied me with exact
bibliographical notes and measurements of sundry tomes in that admirable

I am also deeply indebted to Mrs. Victoria L. Maylor, of Trieste, who, during
the past three years (1885-1888) had the energy and perseverance to copy for
me sixteen bulky volumes written in a "running-hand," concerning which the
less said the better. And lastly, I must acknowledge peculiar obligations to
my Shaykh, Dr. Steingass, Ph.D. This well-known Arabist not only assisted me
in passing the whole work through the press he also added a valuable treatise
on Arabic Prosody (x. 233-258) with indexes of various kinds, and finally he
supervised the MSS. of the Supplemental volumes and enriched the last three,
which were translated under peculiar difficulties in analphabetic lands, with
the results of his wide reading and lexicographical experience.

And now, Alhamdolillah, the play is ended, and while the curtain drops, I take
the final liberty of addressing my kindly and appreciative audience in the
following words, borrowed from a Persian brother of the pen:--

     Now hear my hope from men of liberal mind,
     Faults, that indulgence crave, shall seek and find;
     For whose blames and of despite decries,
     Is wight right witless, clean reverse of wise.

To which let me add the following gentle reminder from Ibn Khald\xFAn:--

     All that we can we do, and who ne'er swerves
     From best endeavour much of praise deserves.


Richard F. Burton
United Service Club, September 30, 1888.

                     Opinions of the Press.

           Morning Advertiser, September 15th, 1885.

As the holiday season draws to a close the publishers' announcements of "new
books" fill column after column of the organs chosen from these special
communiqu\xE9's. But there is one work which is not entered in these lists,
though for years scholars, and many people who are not scholars, have been
looking for it with an eagerness which has left far behind the ordinary
curiosity which is bestowed on the greatest of contributions to current
literasure. And to-day the chosen few who are in possession of the volume in
question are examining it with an interest proportionate to the long toil
which has been bestowed on its preparation. We refer to Captain Burton's
translation of The Arabian Nights Entertainments, now entitled The Book of The
Thousand Nights and a Night, of which the first tome has just been issued. *
*   *   * Captain Burton scorns any namby pambyism. In the Arabic a spade is
usually called a spade, and in the latest English translation it is never
designated an agricultural implement. Moreover the endless footnotes which the
editor appends speak with much freedom of many things usually avoided as
themes for conversation in polite society, though they throw a flood of light
on hundreds of features of Oriental life on which, since travellers have been
compelled to write for "refined" audiences the student has failed to be
informed. *   *   *   *   *

Yet, admitting that The Nights are often coarse and indelicate, and sometimes
even gross it is a mistake to suppose that they are demoralising in the same
way that a French novel of the Zola type is, or might be. Indeed, what we
would call its impropriety is only a reflection of the na\xEFve freedom with
which talk is to this day carried on in the family circles of the East. They
see no harm in what we should regard as indecency. So that when Captain Burton
prefaces his unbowdlerised version with the Arab proverb, "To the pure in
heart all things are pure," he presents perhaps the best defence he could
against the attack which it is quite possible may be made on him for devoting
many years of his life to what he terms "a labour of love." *   *   * Captain
Burton, thirty-three years ago, went in the disguise of an Indian pilgrim to
Mecca and Al-Medinah, and no one capable of giving the world the result of his
experience has so minute, so exhaustive a knowledge of Arab and Oriental life
generally. Hence the work now begun--only a limited number of students can
ever see--is simply priceless to any one who concerns himself with such
subjects, and may be regarded as marking an era in the annals of Oriental

           St. James' Gazette, September 12th, 1885.

One of the most important translations to which a great English scholar has
ever devoted himself is now in the press. For three decades Captain Burton has
been more or less engaged on his translation of the Arabian Nights, the latest
of the many versions of that extraordinary story which has been made into
English, the only one at all worthy of a great original.

            Whitehall Review, September 17th, 1885.

The publication of the first volume of Captain Burton's translation of the
Alif La\xEFla enriches the world of Oriental investigation with a monument of
labour and scholarship and of research. *   *   *   *   * In the name of the
whole world of Oriental scholarship, we offer our heartfelt thanks and
congratulations to Captain Burton upon the appearance of this first volume;
and we look forward with the keenest interest for its successors.

                Home News, September 18th, 1885.

Captain Burton has begun to issue the volumes of his subscription translation
of the Arabian Nights, and its fortunate possessors will now be able to
realize the full flavour of Oriental feeling. They will now have the great
storehouse of Eastern folk-lore opened to them, and Captain Burton's minute
acquaintance with Eastern life makes his comments invaluable. In this respect,
as well as in the freeness of the translation, the version will be
distinguished from its many predecessors. Captain Burton's preface, it may be
observed, bears traces of soreness at official neglect. Indeed it seems
curious that his services could not have been utilised in the Soudan, when the
want of competent Arabic scholars was so severely felt.

           Nottingham Journal, September 19th, 1885.

But to scholars and men who have sufficient love of the soul of these sweet
stories to discern the form in its true proportions, the new edition will be
welcome. From an Oriental point of view the work is masterly to a degree. The
quatrains and couplets, reading like verses from Elizabethan mantels, and
forming a perfect rosary of Eastern lore, the constant succession of brilliant
pictures, and the pleasure of meeting again our dear old friend Shahr\xE1z\xE1d, all
these combine to give a unique charm and interest to this "perfect expositor
of the medi\xE6val Moslem mind."

                 The Bat, September 29th, 1885.

Captain Burton, in his way, renders a gigantic service to all students of
literature who are not profound Orientalists, and to many who are, by giving
them a literal, honest, and accurate translation of the Arabian Nights. *   *
* Some idiotic persons here and there, and certain journals which have earned
an infamous notoriety by doing their best to deprave public morals, have
raised a foolish clamour against Captain Burton and his translation.
Journalists, who had no objection to pandering to the worst tastes of humanity
at a penny a copy, are suddenly inspired by much righteous indignation at a
privately printed work which costs a guinea a volume, and in which the
manners, the customs, and the language of the East are boldly represented as
they were and as they are. Such critics Captain Burton, and the readers of
Captain Burton's translation, can afford to despise and to ignore. The Arabian
Nights Entertainment has been the playbook of generations, the delight of the
nursery and the school-room for nearly two hundred years. Now it is high time
that scholars and students should be allowed to know what the Arabian Nights
Entertainment really is. Lovers of Arabic have long since known something of
the truth concerning the Alif Laila. It needs no Burton, it needed no Payne to
tell the masters of Oriental languages that The Thousand Nights and a Night
was a very different thing from what either Galland or Lane had made it out to
be. Mr. Payne in his way, rendered no slight service, Captain Burton, in his
way, renders a gigantic service to all students of literature who are not
profound Orientalists, and to many who are, by giving them a literal, honest,
and accurate translation of the "Arabian Nights."

                The Academy, October 3rd, 1885.

As Capt. Richard F. Burton's translation of The Thousand and One Nights is
likely for several reasons to awaken a literary controversy, the following
letter from Mr. John Addington Symonds in the Academy of October 3 will be
read with interest. The subject upon which it touches is an important one, and
one which must be regarded from a scholarly as well as a moral point of view.
Mr. Symonds writes like the scholar that he is; we shall soon see how the
moralists write, and if they say anything to the point we shall copy it:--

          Am Hof, Davos Platz, Switzerland, September 27th, 1885.

"There is an outcry in some quarters against Capt. Burton's translation of the
Arabian Nights. Only one volume of the work has reached me, and I have not as
yet read the whole of it. Of the translator's notes I will not speak, the
present sample being clearly insufficient to judge by, but I wish to record a
protest against the hypocrisy which condemns his text. When we invite our
youth to read an unexpurgated Bible (in Hebrew and Greek, or in the authorised
version), an unexpurgated Aristophanes, an unexpurgated Juvenal, an
unexpurgated Boccaccio, an unexpurgated Rabelais, an unexpurgated collection
of Elizabethan dramatists, including Shakespeare, and an unexpurgated Plato
(in Greek or in Prof. Jowett's English version), it is surely inconsistent to
exclude the unexpurgated Arabian Nights, whether in the original or in any
English version, from the studies of a nation who rule India and administer

"The qualities of Capt. Burton's translation are similar to those of his
previous literary works, and the defects of those qualities are also similar.
Commanding a vast and miscellaneous vocabulary, he takes such pleasure in the
use of it that sometimes he transgresses the unwritten laws of artistic
harmony. From the point of view of language, I hold that he is too eager to
seize the mot propre of his author, and to render that by any equivalent which
comes to hand from field or fallow, waste or warren, hill or hedgerow, in our
vernacular. Therefore, as I think, we find some coarse passages of the Arabian
Nights rendered with unnecessary crudity and some poetic passages marred by
archaisms and provincialisms. But I am at a loss to perceive how Burton's
method of translation should be less applicable to the Arabian Nights than to
the Lusiad. So far as I can judge, it is better suited to the na\xEFvet\xE9 combined
with stylistic subtlety of the former than to the smooth humanistic elegancies
of the latter.

"This, however, is a minor point. The real question is whether a word for word
version of the Arabian Nights, executed with peculiar literary vigor, exact
scholarship, and rare insight into Oriental modes of thought and feeling, can
under any shadow of presence be classed with 'the garbage of the brothels.' In
the lack of lucidity, which is supposed to distinguish English folk, our
middle-class censores morum strain at the gnat of a privately circulated
translation of an Arabic classic, while they daily swallow the camel of higher
education based upon minute study of Greek and Latin literature. When English
versions of Theocritus and Ovid, of Plato's Phaedrus and the Ecclesiazusae,
now within the reach of every school-boy, have been suppressed, then and not
till then can a 'plain and literal' rendering of the Arabian Nights be denied
with any colour of consistency to adult readers. I am far from saying that
there are not valid reasons for thus dealing with Hellenic and Graeco-Roman
and Oriental literature in its totality. But let folk reckon what Anglo Saxon
Puritanism logically involves. If they desire an Anglo-Saxon Index Librorum
Prohibitorum, let them equitably and consistently apply their principles of
inquisitorial scrutiny to every branch of human culture.

"John Addington Symonds."

       The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 10th, 1885.
                  Thousand Nights and a Night.
                          First Notice

Everything comes to him who waits--even the long-promised, eagerly-expected
"Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights," by Richard F. Burton.
It is a whole quarter of a century since this translation of one of the most
famous books of the world was contemplated, and we are told it is the natural
outcome of the well-known Pilgrimage to Medinah and Mecca. Of Captain Burton's
fitness for the task who can doubt. It was during that celebrated journey to
the tomb of the Prophet that he proved himself to be an Arab--indeed, he says,
in a previous state of existence he was a Bedouin. Did he not for months at a
stretch lead the life of a Son of the Faithful, eat, drink, sleep dress,
speak, pray like his brother devotees, the sharpest eyes failing to pierce his
disguise. He knows the ways of Eastern men--and women--as he does the society
of London or Trieste. How completely at home he is with his adopted brethren
he showed at Cairo when, to the amazement of some English friends who were
looking on at the noisy devotions of some "howling" Dervishes, he suddenly
joined the shouting, gesticulating circle and behaved as if to the manner
born. He has qualified as a "Howler," he holds a diploma as a master Dervish
(see vol. iii. of his "Pilgrimage"), and he can initiate disciples. Clearly to
use a phrase of Arabian story, it was decreed by Allah from the beginning, and
fate and fortune have arranged, that Captain Burton should be the one of all
others to confer upon his countrymen the boon of the genuine unsophisticated
Thousand Nights and a Night. In the whole of our literature no book is more
widely known. It is spread broadcast like the Bible, Bunyan and Shakespeare;
yet although it is in every house, and every soul in the kingdom knows
something about it, yet nobody knows it as it really exists. We have only had
what translators have chosen to give--selected, diluted and abridged
transcripts. And of late some so-called "original" books have been published
containing minor tales purloined bodily from the Nights. There have been many
versions, beginning with the beautiful Augustan French example of Professor
Galland, but all have failed, or rather no one has attempted, to reproduce the
great Oriental masterpiece. Judged by the number of editions--a most
fallacious test of merit--Lane's three volumes, on the whole, have found
greatest favour with the British public. He was too timid to give to the world
the full benefit of his studies, and he kept a drawing-room audience in view.
He was careful to adapt his picture to the English standard of propriety, and
his suppressions and omissions are on a wholesale scale. Lord Byron said of
English novelists that they give a full length of courtship and but a bust of
marriage. Mr. Lane thought it expedient to draw a tight veil, to tell only
half the truth--in short he stops at the bust. Moreover he destroyed all the
m\xE9canique of his original, and cruelly altered the form. He did away with the
charming and dramatic framework of the tales, turned the Arabian Nights into
the Arabian Chapters, and too often into the Arabian Notes. The first sole and
complete translation was furnished recently by Mr. John Payne, whose "Book of
the Thousand Nights and One Night" is dedicated to Captain Burton. Mr. Payne
printed 500 copies for private circulation, a mere drop in the ocean. His
edition was instantly absorbed, clutched with avidity, and is
unprocurable--unless, as has happened several times, a stray copy finds its
way into the market, and is snatched up at a fancy price. It so happened that
Mr. Payne and Captain Burton applied themselves to the same task quite
unconscious of each other's labour. They were running on the same rails, like
Adams and Leverrier, the joint discoverers of Neptune, or like Darwin and
Wallace, who simultaneously evolved the theory of Natural Selection. Hearing
of a competitor, Captain Burton, who was travelling to the Gold Coast, freely
offered his fellow worker precedence. Mr. Payne's production served to whet
curiosity, and the young scholars of the day applied themselves to Arabic in
order to equip their minds, and to be in a more blissful state of preparation
for the triumphant edition to follow. Captain Burton's first volume in sombre
black and dazzling gold--the livery of the Abbasides--made its appearance
three weeks ago, and divided attention with the newly-discovered Star. It is
the first volume of ten, the set issued solely to subscribers. And already, as
in the case of Mr. Payne's edition, there has been a scramble to secure it,
and it is no longer to be had for love or money. The fact is, it fills a void,
the world has been waiting for this chef d'\xE6uvre, and all lovers of the
Arabian Nights wonder how they have got on without it. We must break off from
remarks to give some idea of the originality of the style, of the incomparable
way in which the very essence and life of the East is breathed into simple,
straightforward Anglo-Saxon English. In certain of Captain Burton's books he
borrows words from all languages, there are not enough for his use, and he is
driven to coin them. But in the character of Arabian story-teller he is
simplicity itself, and whilst avoiding words of length, he introduces just
enough of antique phrase as gives a bygone and poetic flavour. The most
exacting and the most fastidious will be satisfied at the felicitous handling
of immortal themes. A delightful characteristic is the division of the text
into Nights. Lane and Payne, for peculiar reasons of their own, have both
omitted to mark the breaks in the recital. But now for the first time the
thread on which all is strung is clearly kept in view, and justice is done to
the long drawn-out episode of the young wife who saves her own neck and averts
a wholesale massacre of maidens by her round of stories within stories.

The reader most familiar with the ordinary versions at once is in a new
atmosphere. The novelty is startling as it is delightful. We are face to face
with the veritable East, where Cairo, Damascus, and Baghdad are known to us as
London or Lincoln. The whole life of the people is represented, nothing is
passed over or omitted. The picture is complete, and contains everything as
the "white contains the black of the eye," a phrase which, by- the-bye, in
Arabic is all contained in one word. We have before alluded to the strength
and beauty of the style. The felicities of expression are innumerable. What
could be better than the terms to express grief and joy, "his breast
broadened," "his breast straitened," or the words used of a person in abject
terror, "I died in my skin," or the cruelty of the scourger who persevered
"till her forearm failed," or the expression of despair "The light before his
face became night," or the grand account of the desert storm "when behold a
dust cloud up-flew and grew until it walled the horizon from view." Another
speciality of Captain Burton's edition is the Notes. He is celebrated for
sowing the bottom of his pages with curiously illuminating remarks, and he has
here carried out his custom in a way to astonish. He tells us that those who
peruse his notes in addition to those of Lane would be complete proficients in
the knowledge of Oriental practices and customs. Lane begins with Islam from
Creation to the present day, and has deservedly won for his Notes the honour
of a separate reprint. Captain Burton's object in his annotations is to treat
of subjects which are completely concealed from the multitude. They are
utterly and entirely esoteric, and deal with matters of which books usually
are kept clear. Indeed he has been assured by an Indian officer who had been
40 years in the East, that he was entirely ignorant of the matters revealed in
these Notes. Without these marvellous elucidations the Arabian Nights would
remain only half understood, but by their aid we may know as much of the
Moslems as the Moslems know of themselves.

       The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 17th, 1885.
                         Second Notice.

In bringing out his Arabian Nights Captain Burton has made a bold attempt to
dispense with the middleman the publisher. He has gone straight to the
printer, he himself undertaking the business of distribution. It is time
somebody should be energetic. With curious submission authors go on bearing
their grievances, and sow that others may reap. Whole editions of travels are
issued, and the person most concerned, the author, gets a pittance of \xA35. And
only the other day Walt Whitman, most illustrious of American poets, and in
the opinion of capable judges the most illustrious man of letters across the
Atlantic, publicly that the profits on his writings for a whole year amounted
to a few dollars. Captain Burton has broken through the bondage, and the
result promises to be highly satisfactory. But he has been threatened with
pains and penalties, one trade journal, the Printing Times and Lithographer,
under the immediate direction of an eminent bookseller, known for his vast
purchases of rare publications, announced that The Arabian Nights would be
suppressed unless its tone and morals were unexceptionable! In short,
publishers are exasperated, and, like the Peers, they do not see the force of
being abolished. The authors, however, who sigh to be independent, must not
take it for granted that the experiment is easy, or likely to be often
successful. In this particular instance it is a case of the Man and the Book.
There is only one Arabian Nights in the world, and only one Captain Burton.

The Thousand Nights and a Night offers a complete picture of Eastern peoples.
But the English reader must be prepared to find that the manners of Arabs and
Moslems differ from his own. Eastern people look at things from a more natural
and primitive point of view, and they say what they think with all the
unrestraint of children. At times their plain speaking is formidable, but they
are not conscious of impropriety, and their coarseness is not intentional. It
is their nature to be downright, and to be communicative on subjects about
which the Saxon is shy or silent, and it must be remembered that the
separation of the sexes adds considerably to this freedom of expression. Their
language is material in quality, every root is objective; as an instance, for
the word soul they have no more spiritual equivalent than breath. Even the
conversation between parents and children is of incredible frankness, and the
Wazir of Egypt talks to his daughter "the Lady of Beauty," in a fashion
astonishing to the West. But the Arabs are a great mixture. They are keenly
alive to beauty, and every youth and every damsel is described in glowing,
rapturous terms. We have heard in our own country, so far north as chilly
Scotland, of a whole audience standing up in a theatre to applaud the entrance
and acknowledge the charms of a beautiful woman. In the East they are far more
readily subjugated, and the event is of everyday occurrence, and not a wonder.
"When the people of Damascus saw Ajib's beauty and brilliancy and perfect
grace and symmetry (for he was a marvel of comeliness and winning loveliness,
softer than the cool breeze of the North, sweeter than limpid waters to man in
drouth, and pleasanter than the health for which sick man sueth), a mighty
many followed him, whilst others ran on before and sat down on the road until
he should come up, that they might gaze on him." The Arabs are highly
imaginative, and their world is peopled with supernatural beings, whilst Ovid
is surpassed in the number and ingenuity of their metamorphoses. Their nerves
are highly strung, they are emotional to the hysteric degree, and they do
everything in the superlative fashion. They love at first sight, and one
glimpse of a face is enough to set them in flames; they cease to sleep or to
eat until they are admitted to the adored presence, they weep till they faint,
they rend their garments, pluck their beards, buffet their faces, and after
paroxysms of passion they recover sufficiently to recite verses--"and he beat
his face and head and recited these couplets"--"then she recited, weeping
bitterly the while"--"When the young man heard these words he wept with sore
weeping, till his bosom was drenched with tears and began reciting." All this
effervescence, so different to our rigid repression, all this exuberance of
feeling is the gift of a hot climate. And, besides this easy stirring of their
passions, they always live in supreme consciousness that every impulse, every
act is decreed, that they drift without will of their own, and are the
helpless creatures of destiny. Half their talk consists of invocations to
Allah, the All-ruling, All-gracious Allah! This fatalistic element is a
leading feature in the Nights. All that happens is accepted with submission,
and with the conviction that nothing can be averted. The Wazir's eye is
knocked out, "as fate and fortune decreed," the one pomegranate seed escapes
destruction, and the Princess dies in consequence; the beautiful lad secreted
in a cave under the earth to keep him from harm, because it is foretold by the
astrologers that he will die on a certain day, meets with his death at the
appointed hour despite all precautions. This is one of the myriad instances,
says Captain Burton, showing "that the decrees of Anagk\xE9, Fate, Destiny, Weird
are inevitable." And yet, in the face of overwhelming evidence that Moslems in
all things bow to the stroke of destiny, it is singular to note that a Turkish
scholar like Mr. Redhouse, translator of the "Mesnevi," fails to realise this
most characteristic trait of Mahometan belief, and confuses it with the
Christian idea of Providence and Premonition. The folk in Arabian tales, as
might be expected, meet calamity in the shape of death with fortitude. The end
of life is not a terror acutely feared as with us. They die easily, and when
the time comes they give up the ghost without repining, although the mourning
by survivors is often loud and vehement, and sometimes desperately prolonged.
This facility in dying is partly due to their fatalistic philosophy, and
partly it is the effect of climate. It is in rugged climes that death is
appalling, and comes as the King of Terrors, but the hotter the country the
easier it is to enter the Door of Darkness. All these things which make the
difference between Orientals and ourselves must be taken into account by
readers of Arabian story, and the coarseness, as Captain Burton shows, is but
the shade of a picture which otherwise would be all light;" the general tone
of the Nights "is exceptionally high and pure, and the devotional fervour
often rises to boiling point." We have shown how Captain Burton has rendered
the prose of the Nights, how vigorous, yet simple, is the language, how
pleasant is his use of antique phrase, serving as it often does to soften the
crudity of Oriental expression. In translating the poetry, which finally will
amount to nearly 10,000 lines, he has again started on a path of his own. He
has closely preserved the Arab form, although, as he says, an absolutely exact
copy of Arabic metres is an impossibility.

A striking novelty in Captain Burton's translation is the frequent occurrence
of passages in cadenced prose, called in Arabic "Saj'a," or the cooing of a
dove. These melodious fragments have a charming effect on the ear. They come
as dulcet-surprises, and mostly occur in highly-wrought situations, or they
are used to convey a vivid sense of something exquisite in art or nature. We
give one or two instances of these little eddies of song set like gems in the
prose. Their introduction seems due to whim or caprice, but really is due to
profound study of the situation, as if the tale-teller felt suddenly compelled
to break into the rhythmic strain. The prose ripples and rises to dancing
measure when the King of the Age, wandering in a lonely palace, comes upon the
half-petrified youth, "the Ensorcelled Prince."

"Now when the Sultan heard the mournful voice he sprang to his feet, and
following the sound found a curtain let down over the chamber door. He raised
it and saw behind it a young man sitting upon a couch about a cubic above the
ground: he fair to the sight, a well- shaped wight, with eloquence dight, his
forehead was flower-white, his cheek rosy bright, and a mole on his cheek
breadth like an ambergris mite."

It is broken again to bring into fuller notice the perfections of one of the
three merry ladies of Baghdad, sitting under a silken canopy, the curtains
"looped up with pearls as big as filberts and bigger." We are told to note how
eastern are the metaphors, how confused the flattery.

"Thereupon sat a lady bright of blee, with brow-beaming brilliancy, and her
eyebrows were arched as for archery; her breath breathed ambergris and
perfumery, and her lips were sugar to taste and carnelian to see. Her stature
was straight as the letter I (the letter Alif a straight perpendicular
stroke), and her face shamed the noon sun's radiancy; and she was even as a
galaxy or a dome with golden marquetry, or a bride displayed on choicest
finery, or a noble maid of Araby."

And prose is not thought adequate to do justice to the natural beauty of a
garden "like one of the pleasaunces of Paradise."

"It was a garden with trees of freshest green and ripe fruits of yellow sheen;
and its birds were singing clear and keen, and rills ran wimpling through the
fair terrene."

It is a marvel that these cadences have never been reproduced before. They
have been faintly attempted by Eastwick, in his "Gulistan," whilst Mr. Payne
simply passed them over, rejected them as of no account. They fall in with
Captain Burton's plan of omitting nothing; of giving the Nights intact in the
precise form in which they are enjoyed by the Oriental. Beside the verses so
characteristic of exaggerated Arabic sentiment, and the rhymed cadences, let
like precious stones into the gold of the prose, the proverbs embodying the
proverbial wit and wisdom are all rhymed as in the original Arabic. What
Arabists think of this translation we may learn from a professed Arabist
writing to this effect:--"I am free to confess, after many years study of
Arabic, a comparison of your translation with the text has taught me more than
many months of dry study," whilst Englishmen who for years have lived in the
East are making the discovery that, after all, they have known little or
nothing, and their education is only beginning with this version of the
Arabian Nights. It is only knowledge that knows how to observe; and it is
satisfactory to observe that Captain Burton's amazing insight into Eastern
peculiarities has been put to its best use in giving a true idea of the People
of the Sun and a veritable version of their Book of Books. The labour expended
on this edition has been enormous. The work could only have been completed by
the most excessive and pertinatious application. All the same we are told it
has been "a labour of love," a task that has brought its own exceeding great

                   Arabian Nights, Volume 16

[FN#1] Tome xii. is dated 1789, the other three, 1788, to include
them in the "Cabinet."

[FN#2]  The titles of all the vols. are dated alike, 1793, the
actual date of printing.

[FN#3]  This name is not in the Arabic text, and I have vainly
puzzled my brains about its derivation or meaning.

[FN#4]  This P.N. is, I presume, a corruption of "Shawal\xE1n"=one
falling short. The wife "Oitba" is evidently "Otb\xE1" or "Utb\xE1."

[FN#5]  See my Supplemental volume i. pp. 37-116, "The Ten
Wazirs; or, the History of King Az\xE1dbakht and his Son."

[FN#6] MS. pp. 140-182. Gauttier, vol. ii., pp. 313-353, Histoire
du sage Heycar translated by M. Agoub: Weber, "History of
Sinkarib and his two Viziers" (vol. ii. 53): the "Vizier" is
therein called Hicar.

[FN#7] This form of the P.N. is preferred by Prof. R. Hoerning in
his "Prisma des Sanherib," etc.  Leipsic, 1878.  The etymology is
"Sin akhi-irib"=Sini (Lunus, or the Moon-God) increaseth
brethren.  The canon of Ptolemy fixes his accession at B.C. 702,
the first year of Elibus or Belibus. For his victories over
Babylonia, Palestine, Judea, and Egypt see any "Dictionary of the
Bible," and Byron for the marvellous and puerile legend--

          The Assyrian came down as a wolf on the fold,

which made him lose in one night 185,000 men, smitten by the
"Angel of the Lord" (2 Kings xix. 35).  Seated upon his throne
before Lachish he is represented by a bas-relief as a truly noble
and kingly figure.

[FN#8] I presume that the author hereby means a "fool," Pers.
n\xE1d\xE1n. But in Assyrian story Nadan was=Nathan, King of the people
of Pukudu, the Pekod of Jeremiah (i. 21) and other prophets.

[FN#9] In text always "At\xFAr," the scriptural "Asshur"=Assyria,
biblically derived from Asshur, son of Shem (Gen. x. 22), who was
worshipped as the proto-deity.  The capital was Niniveh. Weber
has "Nineveh and Thor," showing the spelling of his MS.
According to the Arabs, "Ashur" had four sons; Iran (father of
the Furs=Persians, the Kurd, or Ghozzi, the Daylams, and the
Khazar), Nab\xEDt, Jarm\xFAk, and Bas\xEDl.  Ibn Khaldun (iii. 413), in
his "Universal History," opposes this opinion of Ibn Sa'id.

[FN#10] i.e. "Fish-town" or "town of Nin" =Ninus, the founder. In
mod. days "Naynawah" was the name of a port on the east bank of
the Tigris; and moderns have unearthed the old city at Koyunjik,
Nabi Yunas, and the Tall (mound of) Nimrud.

[FN#11] The surroundings suggest Jehovah, the tribal deity of the
Jews. The old version says, "Hicar was a native of the country of
Haram (Harr\xE1n), and had brought from thence the knowledge of the
true God; impelled, however, by an irresistible decree," etc.

[FN#12] i.e. a woollen cloth dyed red.  Hence Pyrard (i. 244) has
"red scarlet," and (vol. ii.) "violet scarlet"; Froissart (xvth
centy.) has "white scarlet," and Marot (xvith) has "green
scarlet." The word seems to be French of xiith century, but is
uncertain: Littr\xE9 proposes Galaticus, but admits the want of an
intermediate form. Piers Plowman and Chaucer use "cillat\xFAn, which
suggests Pers. "Sakalat, or "Saklat\xFAn", whence Mr. Skeat would
derive "scarlet." This note is from the voyage of F. Pyrard, etc.
London. Hakluyts, M.dccc.lxxxvii.; and the editor quotes Colonel
Yule's M. Polo (ii. chapt. 58) and his "Discursive Glossary s. v.

[FN#13] i.e."Al-Kirm," Arab. and Pers. =a worm, as in Kirm\xE1n (see
Supplem. vol. i. 40); the coccus ilicis, vulg. called cochineal.

[FN#14] Arab. "Arz", from the Heb. Arz or Razah (raz=to vibrate),
the root {Greek} (cedrus conifera), the Assyrian "Erimu of
Lebanon," of which mention is so often made. The old controversy
as to whether "Razah"=cedar or fir, might easily have been
settled if the disputants had known that the modern Syrians still
preserve the word for the clump called "The Cedars" on the
seaward slope of the Libanus.

[FN#15] We should say "reading and writing," but the greater
difficulty of deciphering the skeleton eastern characters places
reading in the more honourable place. They say of a very learned
man, "He readeth it off (readily) as one drinketh water."

[FN#16] Arab.  "Al-S\xE1hib al-jayyid." ["Jayyid" is, by the measure
"Fay'il," derived from the root, "Jaud," to excel, like "Kayyis,"
from "Kaus" (see Suppl. vol. iv., p.277), "Mayyit" from "Maut,"
"Sayyid" from "Saud." The form was originally "Jaywid;" then the
W\xE1w became assimilated to the preceding J\xE1, on account of the
following Kasrah, and this assimilation or "Idgh\xE1m" is indicated
by Tashd\xEDd. As from "Kayyis" the diminutive "Kuwayyis" is formed,
so "Jayyid" forms the Tasgh\xEDr, "Juwayyid," which, amongst the
Druzes, has the specific meaning of "deeply versed in religious

[FN#17] "K\xFAl," vulg. for "Kul"; a form constant in this MS.

[FN#18] Gauttier "Sarkhadom," the great usurper Sargon, a
contemporary of Merodach Baladan of Babylon and of Sabaco 1st of
Ethiopia, B.C. 721-702: one of the greatest Assyrian Kings, whose
place has been determined to be between Shalmaneser and his son,
the celebrated Sennacherib, who succeeded him.  The name also
resembles the biblical Ezarhaddon (Asaridanus), who, however, was
the son of Sennacherib, and occupied the throne of Babylon in
B.C. 680.

[FN#19] Gauttier, pp. 317-319, has greatly amplified and modified
these words of wisdom.

[FN#20] In text "Y\xE1 Bunayya" =lit. "O my little son," a term of
special fondness.

[FN#21] Arab. "Jamrah," a word of doubtful origin, but applied to
a tribe strong enough to be self-dependent. The "Jamar\xE1t of the
Arabs" were three, Ban\xFA Numayr, Ban\xFA H\xE1ris (who afterwards
confederated with Mash\xEDj) and Ban\xFA Dabbah (who joined the Rik\xE1b),
and at last Nomayr remained alone.  Hence they said of it:

"Nomayr the jamrah (also "a live coal") of Arabs are; *  And
ne'er cease they to burn in fiery war."

See Chenery's Al-Hariri, pp. 343-428.

[FN#22] In the Arab. "Ta'arkalak," which M. Houdas renders
"qu'elle ne te retienne dans ses filets."

[FN#23] A lieu commun in the East. It is the Heb. "Sh\xE1ked" and
the fruit is the "Loz" (Arab. Lauz)=Amygdalus communis, which the
Jews looked upon as the harbinger of spring and which, at certain
feasts, they still carry to the synagogue, as representing the
palm branches of the Temple.

[FN#24] The mulberry-tree in Italy will bear leaves till the end
of October and the foliage is bright as any spring verdure.

[FN#25] Gauttier omits this: pas poli, I suppose.

[FN#26] The barbarous sentiment is Biblical-inspired, "He that
spareth his rod hateth his son" (Prov. xiii. 24), and "Chasten
thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his
crying" (Prov. xix. 18). Compare the Arab equivalent, "The green
stick is of the trees of Paradise" (Pilgrimage i. 151). But the
neater form of the saw was left to uninspired writers; witness
"Spare the rod and spoil the child," which appears in Ray's
proverbs, and is immortalised by Hudibras:--

          Love is a boy by poets styled,
          Then spare the rod and spoil the child. (ii. 1, 843.)

It is to the eternal credit of John Locke, the philosopher, that
in an age of general brutality he had the moral courage to
declare, "Beating is the worst and therefore the last means to be
used in the correction of children."

[FN#27] Arab. "Dahn" (oil, ointment) which may also mean "soft

[FN#28] Aucun roi ne peut gouverner sans arm\xE9e et on ne peut
avoir une arm\xE9e sans argent. For a treatise on this subject see
the "Chronique de Tabari," ii. 340.

[FN#29] M. Agoub, in Gauttier (vi. 321) remarks of these
prosings, "Ces maximes qui ne seraient pas indignes, pour la
plupart, des beaux temps de la philosophie grecque, appartiennent
toutes au texte arabe; je n'ai fait que les disposer dans un
ordre plus m\xE9thodique. J'ai d\xFB aussi supprimer quelques unes,
soit parce qu'elles n'offraient que des pr\xE9ceptes d'une morale
banale, soit que traduites en frangais, elles eussent p\xFB para\xEEtre
bizarres \xE0 des lecteurs europ\xE9ens. Ce que je dis ici, s'applique
\xE9galement \xE0 celles qui terminent le conte et qui pourraient
fournir le sujet de plusieurs fables." One would say that the
translator is the author's natural enemy.

[FN#30] Arab. "Amm\xE1l," now vulgarly written with initial Hamzah,
a favourite expression in Egypt and meaning "Verily," "I believe
you, my boy," and so forth.  But "'Amm\xE1l" with the Ayn may also
mean "he intended," or "he was about to."

[FN#31] In Gauttier the name is Ebnazadan, but the Arab. text has
"Naud\xE1n," which I take to be the Persian "New of knowledge" as
opp. to N\xE1d\xE1n, the "unknowing."

[FN#32] In Chavis (Weber ii. 58) and Gauttier (p. 323) Akis, roi
de Perse. The second name may be "Shah of the Ebna" or Persian
incol\xE6 of Al-Yaman; aristocratie Persane naturalis\xE9e Arabe
(Al-Mas'udi, iv. 188, etc.).

[FN#33] i.e. the Lowland of the Eglantine or Narcissus; Nisr\xEDn is
also in dictionaries an island where amber abounds. There is a
shade of difference between Buk'ah and Bak'ah. The former which
is the corrector form=a patch of ground, a plain (hence the
Buk\xE1'a= Coelesyria), while Bak'ah=a hollow where water collects.
In Chavis we find "the plain of Harrim" and in Gauttier la plaine
de Baschrin; and the appointment was "for the first of the month
Niram" (Nays\xE1n).

[FN#34] "Pharaoh," which Hebrew Holy Writ left so vague and
unsatisfactory, has become with the Arabs "Fir'aun", the dynastic
name of Egyptian kings, as Kisr\xE0 (Chosro\xEBs) of the Persians,
Tobba of the Himyarites, Kaysar (C\xE6sar) of the Romans, Jalut
(Goliath) of the Phoenicians, Faghfur of the Chinese, Kh\xE1k\xE1n of
the Tartars, Adfonsh (Alfonso) of the Spanish, and Aguet\xEDd of the
Berbers. Ibn Khald\xFAn iv. 572.

[FN#35] "Mizr" in Assyrian="Musur," in Heb. "Misraim" (the dual
Misrs, whose duality permeated all their polity), and in Arab.
"Misr," the O. Egypt. "H\xE1 k\xE1hi Pt\xE1h" (the Land of the great God,
Ptah), and the Coptic "T\xE1-mera"=the Land of the Nile flood,
ignoring, I may add, all tradition of a Noachian or general

[FN#36] The simplicity of old Assyrian correspondence is here
well preserved, as we may see by comparing those letters with the
cuneiform inscriptions, etc., by S. Abden Smith (Pfeiffer,
Leipsic, 1887). One of them begins thus, "The will of the King to
Sintabni-Uzur. Salutation from me to thee. May it be well with
thee. Regarding Sinsarra-utzur whom thou hast sent to me, how is
thy report?" etc. We find such expressions as "May the great
Gods, lovers of thy reign, preserve thee an hundred years;" also
"Peace to the King, my lord," etc.

[FN#37] Arab. "Yaum al-Kham\xEDs." For the week-days see vol. vi.
190, and for a longer notice, Al-Mas'udi, iii. 422-23.

[FN#38] In the text "K\xE1l" (al-R\xE1w\xED), "the Reciter saith"--which
formula I omit here and elsewhere.

[FN#39] i.e. "The Father of the little Fish," in Gauttier (vii.
329) "Abou Som\xE9ika."

[FN#40] By way of insult; as I have before noticed.

[FN#41] He had now learned that Nadan had ruined him.

[FN#42] The wife (in p. 155; "Ashghaft\xEDn\xED") is called "Thou hast
enamoured me" from the root "Shaghaf"=violent love, joy, grief.
Chavis has Zefagnie: Gauttier suppresses the name, which is not
pretty. In the old version she is made aunt (father's sister) to

[FN#43] The old version attributes all this device to "Zefagnie;"
thus injuring the unity and the interest of the tale.

[FN#44] Arab. "Jund" plur. "Jun\xFAd," a term mostly applied to
regular troops under the Government, as opposed to soldiers who
took service with the Amirs or great barons--a state of things
still enduring in non-British India.

[FN#45] Who thus makes a "Ma'adabah"=wake or funeral feast before
his death. See vol. viii. 231.

[FN#46] i.e. "Father of the Fishlet", in the old version
"Yapousmek" (Y\xE1 Ab\xFA Sumayk).

[FN#47] In Chavis he becomes "an old slave, a magician, stained
with the greatest crimes, who has the air and figure of Hicar."

[FN#48] A formula which announces the death of his supposed

[FN#49] Arab. " Matm\xFArah"=Sard\xE1bah (i. 340), a silo for storing
grain, an underground cell (ii. 39).

[FN#50] See text "N\xE1h\xFA" from "Nauh"=ceremonious keening for the
dead. The general term for the wail is "Walwalah" or "Wilw\xE1l" (an
onomatopoy) and for the public wailing-woman "Nadd\xE1bah."

[FN#51] Here we find the Doric form "Rah\xFAm" for "Rah\xEDm," or it
may simply be the intensive and emphatic form, as "Naz\xFAr"=one who
looks intently for "N\xE1zir," a looker.

[FN#52] In the old version "a tenth part of the revenues." The
"Kas\xEDm" of the text is an unusual word which M. Houdas would
render revenues en nature, as opposed to Khir\xE1j, revenues en
argent. I translate it by "tax tribute."

[FN#53] In text "'Azz\xE1m\xEDn, "i.e. men who recite "'Azm," mostly
Koranic versets which avert evil.

[FN#54] This may either be figurative or literal--upon the ashes
where the fire had been; even as the father of Sayf al-Mul\xFAk sat
upon the floor of his audience-hall (vol. vii. 314).

[FN#55] In text "Ya'tadir"--from 'Adr=heavy rain, boldness. But
in this MS. the dots are often omitted and the word may be
Ya'tazir=find excuse.

[FN#56] In the old version the wife is made to disclose the
secret of her husband being alive--again a change for the worse.

[FN#57] Here "Wayha-v." and before "Wayla-k": see vols. v. 258;
vii. 127 and iii. 82.

[FN#58] The King, after the fashion of Eastern despots, never
blames his own culpable folly and hastiness: this was decreed to
him and to his victim by Destiny.

[FN#59] The older version reads "Roc" and informs us that "it is
a prodigious bird, found in the deserts of Africa: it will bear
two hundred pounds weight; and many are of opinion that the idea
of this bird is visionary." In Weber ii. 63, this is the device
of "Zafagnie," who accompanies her husband to Egypt.

[FN#60] This name appears to be a corruption. The sound, however,
bears a suspicious resemblance to "Dabshalim" (a name most proper
for such a Prince, to wit, meaning in their tongue a mighty
King), who appears in chapt. i. of the "Fables of Pilpay"
(Bidpai=Bidyapati=Lord of Lore?). "Dabshal\xEDmat"=the Dabshal\xEDms,
was the dynastic title of the Kings of Soman\xE1th (Somnauth) in
Western India.

[FN#61] Arab. "T\xEDn"=clay, mud, which would be used with the Tob
(adobe, sun-dried brick) forming the walls of Egypt and Assyria.
M.G. Maspero, in his excellent booklet "L'Arch\xE9ologie Egyptienne"
(p. 7. Paris, Quantin, 1887), illustrates this ancient industry
which endures with all its gear to the present day. The average
measured 22 X 11 X 14 cm.; the larger was 38 X 18 X 14 cm., with
intermediate sizes. These formed the cores of temple walls, and,
being revetted with granite, syenite, alabaster and other stones,
made a grand show; but when the outer coat was removed they were
presently weathered to the external semblance of mud-piles. Such
was mostly the condition of the ruins of grand Bubastis
("Pi-Pasht") hod. Zag\xE1zig, where excavations are still being
pushed on.

[FN#62] The old version has "Masser, Grand Cairo (in the days of
the Pharaohs!); so called from having been built by Misraim, the
son of Cham."

[FN#63] In Chav\xEDs, "Abicam, a Chald\xE6an astrologer;" in Gauttier

[FN#64] In Al-Har\xEDr\xED (p. 409) we read, "Hospitality is three
days;" and a Had\xEDs of the Prophet confirms the liberal practice
of The Ignorance:--"The entertainment of a guest is three days,
and the viaticum ("J\xE1izah") is a day and a night, and whatso
exceedeth is an alms-gift." On the first day is shown largesse
and courtesy; on the second and third the stranger is treated
after the usual custom of the household, and then he is provided
with rations for a day and a night. See Lane: A. Nights, i. 486;
also The Nights, vol. i. 3.

[FN#65] i.e. Not standing astraddle, or in other such indecorous

[FN#66] Chavis, "Bilelsanam, the oracle of Bel, the chief God of
the Assyrian: "Gauttier, Une idole B\xEDl. Bel (or Ba'al or Belus,
the Phoenician and Canaanite head-god) may here represent Hobal
the biggest idol in the Meccan Pantheon, which used to be borne
on raids and expeditions to give plunder a religious
significance. Tabari iii. 17. Evidently the author holds it to be
an idol.

[FN#67] The Syro-solar month=April; much celebrated by poets and
fictionists: rain falling at such time into shells becomes pearls
and upon serpents poison.

[FN#68] The text has "Bayb\xFAnah," prop. B\xE1b\xFAnaj in Arab., and in
Pers. "B\xE1b\xFAk," or "B\xE1b\xFAnak"=the white camomile-flower. See vol.
iii. 58.

[FN#69] "Khabata"="He (the camel) pawed the ground." The prim.
sig. is to beat, secondly, it is applied to a purblind camel
which beats or strikes the ground and so stumbles, or to him who
bashes a tree for its leaves; and lastly to him who gets alms by
begging. See Chenery's Al-Hariri, p. 447.

[FN#70] Arab. "Karz"=moneys lent in interest and without fixed
term of payment, as opp. to "Dayn."

[FN#71] In text "Kint\xE1r"=a quintal, 98 to 99 lbs. avoir.: in
round numbers a cwt. a hundred weight: see vol. ii. 233. The old
version explains it by "A golden coin, equivalent to three
hundred livres French (?)." About the value of the Kint\xE1r of
gold, doctors differ. Some value it at 40 ounces, others make it
a leathern bag containing 1,080 to 1,100 dinars, and others 100
rotls (lbs.) of precious metal; while Al-Makrizi relates that
Mohammed the Apostle declared, "The Kint\xE1r of gold is twelve
hundred ounces." Baron de Slane (Ibn Khaldun i. 210) computes 100
Kint\xE1rs=1 million of francs.

[FN#72] In the text "wa l\xE1 ahad tafawwaha fina."

[FN#73] Arab. "Falsafah"=philosophy: see vols. v. 234 and vii.

[FN#74] In the text "Fa-yatrah\xFAna," masc. for fem.

[FN#75] The writer probably remembered that the cat was a sacred
animal amongst the Egyptians: see Herod., ii. 66, and Diod. Sic.,
who tells us (vol. i. p. 94) of a Roman put to death under
Ptolemy Auletes for accidentally killing one of these holy
beasts. The artists of Bubastis, whose ruins are now for the
first time being scientifically explored, modelled the animal in
bronze with an admirable art akin to nature.

[FN#76] M. Houdas explains this miswritten passage, Quand le
soleil fut lev\xE9 et qu'il p\xE9n\xE9tra par ces ouvertures (lis.
abkh\xE1sh, trou de fl\xFBte), il r\xE9pandit le sable dans ces cylindres
form\xE9s par la lumi\xE8re du soleil. It is not very intelligible. I
understand that the Sage went behind the Palace and drove through
a mound or heap of earth a narrow hole bearing east\x96-west, which
he partially filled up with sand; and so when the sun rose the
beams fell upon it and made it resemble a newly made cord of
white flax. M. Agoub (in Gauttier vol. vi. 344) shirks, as he is
wont to do, the whole difficulty. [The idea seems to me to be,
and I believe this is also the meaning of M. Houdas, that Haykar
produced streaks of light in an otherwise dark room by boring
holes in the back wall, and scattered the sand over them, so
that, while passing through the rays of the sun, it assumed the
appearance of ropes. Hence he says mockingly to Pharaoh, "Have
these ropes taken up, and each time you please I will twist thee
the like of them"--reading "Aftilu," lst p. aor. instead of
"Iftil", 2nd imper.--ST.)

[FN#77] Gauttier (vi. 347), Ces pr\xE9sens ne sont pas dignes de
lui; mais peu de chose contents les rois.

[FN#78] Haykar is a Sage who follows the religion of nature,
"Love thy friends and hate thy foes." Gauttier (vii. 349)
embroiders all this with Christian and French sentiment--
L'intention secr\xE8te de Heycar \xE9tait de sauver la vie \xE0 l'ingrat
qui avait conspir\xE9 contre la sienne. Il voulait pour toute
vengeance, le mettre d\xE9sormais dans l'impossibilit\xE9 de nuire et
l'abandonner ensuite \xE0 ses remords, persuad\xE9 que le remords n'est
pas le moindre ch\xE2timent du coupable. True nonsense this when
talking of a character born bad: its only remorse is not to have
done worse than bad.

[FN#79] Striking the nape being the Moslem equivalent for "boxing

[FN#80] With this formula compare Chaucer, "The Manciple's Tale."

[FN#81] In the text "Znn\xE1kt-ha," which is unintelligible,
although the sense be clear.

[FN#82] A bird unknown to the dictionaries, apparently a species
of hawk.

[FN#83] In the text "J\xFArah Sy\xE1n" for "J\xFArah Sayy\xE1l."

[FN#84] The tree having furnished the axe-helve.

[FN#85] M. Houdas translates Tu as m\xE9dit de moi et tu m'as
accabl\xE9 de tes m\xE9chancet\xE9s.

[FN#86] In text "Alif, b\xE1, t\xE1, s\xE1," the latter written with a Sin
instead of a Th\xE1, showing the vulgar use which extends from
Alexandria to Meccah.

[FN#87] So in French, deriding the difference between written and
spoken English, Ecrivez Salmonassar, prononcez crocodile.

[FN#88] Because he owes thee more than a debt of life.

[FN#89] i.e. "Tammat"=She (the tale) is finished.

[FN#90] MSS. pp.217-265. See the "Arabian Tales," translated by
Robert Heron (Edinburgh M.DCC.XCII.), where it is "The Robber-
Caliph; or Adventures of Haroun Alraschid, with the Princess of
Persia, and the fair Zutulb\xE9," vol. i. pp. 2-69. Gauttier,
Histoire du Khalyfe de Baghdad, vol. vii. pp.117-150.

[FN#91] In text "Ah\xE1d\xEDs," esp. referred to the sayings of
Mohammed, and these are divided into two great sections, the
"Ah\xE1d\xEDs al-Nabaw\xED," or the actual words pronounced by the
Apostle; and the "Ah\xE1d\xEDs al-Kudus," or the sentences attributed
to the Archangel Gabriel.

[FN#92] Heron has "the Festival of Haraphat," adding a power of
nonsense. This is the day of the sermon, when the pilgrims sleep
at Muzdalifah (Pilgrimage iii. 265). Kusayy, an ancestor of the
Apostle, was the first to prepare a public supper at this
oratory, and the custom was kept up by Harun al-Rashid, Zubaydah
and Sha'ab, mother of the Caliph al-Muktadir (Tabari ii. 368).
Alms are obligatory on the two great 'I'ds or festivals, al-Fitr
which ends the Ramaz\xE1n fast and al-Kurb\xE1n during the annual
Pilgrimage. The dole must consist of at least a "Sa'" = 7 lbs. in
grain, dates, &c.

[FN#93] i.e. habited themselves in the garments of little people:
so to "enlarge the turband" is to assume the rank of an '\xC1lim or
learned man. "Jayb," the breast of a coat is afterwards used in
the sense of a pocket.

[FN#94] Either the Caliph was persuaded that the white wrist was
a "promise of better things above and below," or he proposed
marriage as a mere freak, intelligible enough when divorce costs
only two words.

[FN#95] In text "Nakd\xED" = the actual as opposed to the contingent
dowry: sec vols. vii. 126; ix. 32.

[FN#96] This is said in irony.

[FN#97] In text "Bash\xE1kh\xEDn" plur. of "Bashkh\xE1nah:" see Suppl.
vols. ii. 119; iii. 87.

[FN#98] In Heron he becomes "Kassera-Abocheroan." Anushirwan (in
full An\xFAsh\xEDnraw\xE1n = sweet of soul) is popularly supposed to have
begun his rule badly after the fashion of Eastern despots, and
presently to have become the justest of monarchs. Nothing of
this, however, is found in Tabari (ii. 159).

[FN#99] He was indignant because twitted with having married a
beggar-maid like good King Cophetua. In Heron he is "moved by so
sensible a reply."

[FN#100] Plur. "Kat\xE1if," a kind of pancake made of flour and
sugar (or honey) and oil or butter.

[FN#101] Arab. "Sakk\xE1" = a water-carrier, generally a bad lot. Of
the "Sakk\xE1 Sharbah," who supplies water to passengers in the
streets, there is an illustration in Lane; M. E. chapt. xiv.

[FN#102] In the text "Kahbah" an ugly word = our whore (i.e.
hired woman): it is frightfully
common in every-day speech. See vol. ii. 70.

[FN#103] Arab. "Sib\xE1k" usually = a leash (for falconry, etc.).

[FN#104] I have emphasised this detail which subsequently becomes
a leading incident.

[FN#105] Usual formul\xE6 when a respectable person is seen
drinking: the same politeness was also in use throughout the
civilised parts of medi\xE6val Europe. See the word "Hanian" (vol.
ii. 5), which at Meccah and elsewhere is pronounced also

[FN#106] In text "Y\xE1 Ta'\xEDs," a favorite expression in this MS.
Page 612 (MS.) has "T\xE1'ish," a clerical error, and in page 97 we
have "Y\xE1 Ta'\xE1sat-n\xE1" = O our misery!

[FN#107] As might a "picker-up of unconsidered trifles."

[FN#108] In text "Akb\xE1' wa Zar\xE1b\xEDl." I had supposed the first to
be the Pers. Kab\xE1 = a short coat or tunic, with the Arab. 'Ayn
(the second is the common corruption for "Zar\xE1b\xEDn" = slaves'
shoes, slippers: see vol. x. 1), but M. Hondas translates Ni
calottes ni calecons, and for the former word here and in MS.
p.227 he reads "'Arakiyah" = skull-cap: see vol. i. 215. ["Akb\xE1'"
is the pi. of "Kub'," which latter occurs infra, p.227 of the Ar.
MS., and means, in popular language, any part of a garment
covering the head, as the hood of a Burnus or the top-piece of a
Kalansuwah; also a skull-cap, usually called "'Araq\xEDyah." --ST.]

[FN#109] Heron dubs him "Hazeb (H\xE1jib) Yamaleddin." In text
"'Al\xE1i al-D\xEDn;" and in not a few places it is familiarly
abbreviated to "'Ali" (p. 228, etc.). For the various forms of
writing the name see Suppl. vol. iii. 30. The author might have
told us the young Chamberlain's name Arabic\xE8 earlier in the tale;
but it is the R\xE1wi's practice to begin with the vague and to end
in specification. I have not, however, followed his example
here or elsewhere.

[FN#110] i.e. Destiny so willed it. For the Pen and the Preserved
Tablet see vol. v. 322.

[FN#111] This was the custom not only with Harun as Mr. Heron
thinks, but at the Courts of the Caliphs generally.

[FN#112] In text "Ghiy\xE1r," Arab. = any piece of dress or uniform
which distinguishes a class, as the soldiery: in Pers. = a strip
of yellow cloth worn by the Jews subject to the Shah.

[FN#113] Arab. "Zarb\xFAl t\xE1k\xED," the latter meaning "high-heeled."
Perhaps it may signify also "fenestrated, or open-worked like a
window." So "poules" or windows cut in the upper leathers of his
shoes. Chaucer, The Miller's Tale.

[FN#114] "Mayzar," in Pers. = a turband: in Arab. "Miizar" = a
girdle; a waistcloth.

[FN#115] Arab. "Kaus al-Bund\xFAk" (or Banduk) a pellet-bow, the
Italian arcobugio, the English arquebuse; for which see vol. i.
10. Usually the "K\xEDs" is the Giberne or pellet-bag; but here it
is the bow-cover. Gauttier notes (vii. 131):--Bondouk signifie en
Arabe harquebuse, Albondoukani signifie l'arquebusier; c'\xE9tait
comme on le voit, le mot d'ordre dit Khalyfe. He supposes, then,
that firelocks were known in the days of Harun al-Rashid (A.D.
786-809). Al-Bunduk\xE1ni = the cross-bow man, or rather the man of
the pellet-bow was, according to the R\xE1w\xED, the name by which the
Caliph was known in this disguise. Al-Zahir Baybars al-
Bundukd\xE1r\xED, the fourth Baharite Soldan (A.D. 1260-77), was so
entitled because he had been a slave to a Bundukd\xE1r, an officer
who may be called the Grand Master of Artillery. In Chavis and
Cazotte the Caliph arms himself with a spear, takes a bow and
arrow (instead of the pellet-bow that named him), disguises his
complexion, dyes beard and eyebrows, dons a large coarse turband,
a buff waistcoat with a broad leathern belt, a short robe of
common stuff and half-boots of strong coarse leather, and thus
"assumes the garb of an Arab from the desert." (!)

[FN#116] See vol. i. 266.

[FN#117] i.e. by the Archangel Gabriel.

[FN#118] Arab. "Habbah" = a grain (of barley, etc.), an obolus, a
mite: it is also used for a gold bead in the shape of a cube
forming part of the Egyptian woman's headdress (Lane M.E.,
Appendix A). As a weight it is the 48th of a dirham, the third of
a k\xEDr\xE1t (carat) or 127/128 of an English grain, avoir.

[FN#119] In text "Mahm\xE1" = as often as = kullu-m\xE1. This is the
eleventh question of the twelve in Al-Hariri, Ass. xxiv., and the
sixth of Ass. xxxvi. The former runs, "What is the noun (kullu-
m\xE1) which gives no sense except by the addition thereto of two
words, or the shortening thereof to two letters (i.e. m\xE1); and in
the first case there is adhesion and in the second compulsion?"
(Chenery, pp. 246-253).

[FN#120] In Chavis and Cazotte he looks through the key-hole
which an Eastern key does not permit, the holes being in the
bolt. See Index, Suppl. vol. v.

[FN#121] In text "K\xE1bal-ki," which I suspect to be a clerical
error for "K\xE1tal-ki" = Allah strike thee dead. See vol. iv. 264,
265. [One of the meanings of "Muk\xE1balah," the third form of
"kabila," is "requital," "retaliation." The words in the text
could therefore be translated: "may God requite thee."--ST.]

[FN#122] In Chavis and Cazotte she swears "by the name of God
which is written on our Great
Prophet's forehead."

[FN#123] Arab. "Y\xE1 Luss"; for this word = the Gr. {Greek}; see
Suppl. vol. v. index.

[FN#124] "Al-N\xE1t\xFAr," the keeper, esp. of a vineyard, a word
naturalized in Persian. The Caliph asks, Is this a bon> fide
affair and hast thou the power to settle the matter definitely?
M. Houdas translates as Les raisins sont-ils \xE0 toi, ou bien es-tu
seulement la gardienne de la vigne? [The verb z\xE1raba, 3rd form,
followed by the accusative, means "to join one in partnership."
The sense of the passage seems therefore to be: Dost thou own
grapes thyself, or art thou ("tuz\xE1rib\xED," 2 fem. sing.) in
partnership with the vineyard-keeper. The word may be chosen
because it admits of another interpretation, the double entendre
of which might be kept up in English by using the expression
"sleeping" partnership. Perhaps, however, "tuz\xE1rib\xED" means here
simply: "Dost thou play the part of."--ST.]

[FN#125] The innuendo is intelligible and I may draw attention to
the humorous skill with which the mother-in-law's character is

[FN#126] In text "Ask\xE1-hu 'alakah" = gave him a good sound
drubbing ('alakah), as a robber would apply to a Judge had he the

[FN#127] Lest he happen to meet an unveiled woman on the stairs;
the usual precaution is to cry "Dast\xFAr!" by your leave (Persian).

[FN#128] Arab. "Khayr"--a word of good omen.

[FN#129] In Chavis and Cazotte the mother gives her daughter's
name as Zutulb\xE9 (?) and her own Lelamain (?).

[FN#130] In text "Waliyah" or "Waliy\xE1h" = and why?

[FN#131] The "Wronged" (Al-Mazl\xFAm) refers to the Caliph who was
being abused and to his coming career as a son-in-law. Gauttier,
who translates the tale very perfunctorily, has Dieu prot\xE8ge les
malheureux et les orphelins (vii. 133).

[FN#132] This again is intended to show the masterful nature of
the Caliph, and would be as much admired by the average coffee-
house audience as it would stir the bile of the free and
independent Briton.

[FN#133] The "Street of the Copperas-maker": the name, as usual,
does not appear till further on in the tale.

[FN#134] In text "Rukh\xE1m" = marble or alabaster, here used for
building material: so "Murakhkhim" = a marble-cutter, means
simply a stone-mason. I may here note the rediscovery of the
porphyry quarries in Middle Egypt, and the gypsum a little inland
of Ras Ghar\xEDb to the West of the Suez Gulf. Both were much used
by the old Egyptians, and we may now fairly expect to rediscover
the lost sites, about Tunis and elsewhere in Northern Africa,
whence Rosso antico and other fine stones were quarried.

[FN#135] Arab. "Al-H\xE1sil" also meaning the taxes, the revenue.

[FN#136] In text "K\xE1'ah" = a saloon: see vols. i. 85; i. 292; and
vii. 167.

[FN#137] In the sing. "Sik\xE1lah."

[FN#138] The Jinn here was Curiosity, said to be a familiar of
the sex feminine, but certainly not less intimate with "the

[FN#139] In text "Kinnab" which M. Houdas translates \xE9toupe que
l'on fixe an bout d'un roseau pour blanchir les murs.

[FN#140] Impossible here not to see a sly hit at the Caliph and
the Caliphate.

[FN#141] The writer has omitted this incident which occurs in
Chavis and Cazotte.

[FN#142] In the text, "Samd" = carpets and pots and pans.

[FN#143] The Kat\xE1 grouse (Tetrao alchata seu arenarius of Linn.)
has often been noticed by me in Pilg. I. 226 (where my indexer
called it "sand goose") and in The Nights (vols. i. 131; iv.
111). De Sacy (Chrestom. Arab. iii pp. 416, 507-509) offers a
good literary account of it: of course he cannot speak from
personal experience. He begins with the Aj\xE1ib al-Makhl\xFAk\xE1t by Al-
Kazwini (ob. A.H. 674 = A.D. 1274) who tells us that the bird
builds in the desert a very small nest (whence the Had\xEDs, "Whoso
shall build to Allah a mosque, be it only the bigness of a Kat\xE1's
nest, the Lord shall edify for him a palace in Paradise"); that
it abandons its eggs which are sometimes buried in sand, and
presently returns to them (hence the saying, "A better guide than
the Kat\xE1"); that it watches at night (?) and that it frequents
highways to reconnoitre travellers (? ?), an interpretation
confirmed by the Persian translator. Its short and graceful steps
gave rise to the saying, "She hath the gait of a Kat\xE1," and makes
De Sacy confound the bird with the Pers. K\xE1h\xFA or Kabk-i-dari
(partridge of the valley), which is simply the francolin, the
Ital. francolino, a perdrix. The latter in Arab. Is "Durr\xE1j" (Al-
Mas'udi, vii. 347): see an affecting story connected with it in
the Suppl. Nights (ii. 4O-43). In the xxiiid Ass. of Al-Hariri
the sagacity of the Kat\xE1 is alluded to, "I crossed rocky places,
to which the Kat\xE1 would not find its way." See also Ass. viii.
But Mr. Chenery repeats a mistake when he says (p. 339) that the
bird is "never found save where there is good pasturage and
water:" it haunts the wildest parts of Sind and Arabia, although
it seldom strays further than 60 miles from water which it must
drink every evening. I have never shot the Kat\xE1 since he saved my
party from a death by thirst on a return-ride from Harar (First
Footsteps in E. Africa, p. 388). The bird is very swift, with a
skurrying flight like a frightened Pigeon; and it comes to water
regularly about dusk when it is easily "potted."

[FN#144] In text "Samman" for "Samm\xE1n": Dozy gives the form
"Summun" (Hondas). The literary name is "Salw\xE0."

[FN#145] For Wali (at one time a Civil Governor and in other ages
a Master of Police) see vol. i. 259.

[FN#146] Prob. a corruption of the Pers. "N\xE1zuk," adj. delicate,

[FN#147] In text "Jaft\xE1w\xE1t," which is, I presume, the Arab. plur.
of the Turk. "Chif\xFAt" a Jew, a mean fellow. M. Hondas refers to
Dozy s.v. "Jaft\xE1h." [The Turkish word referred to by Dozy is
"Chifte" from the Persian "Juft" = a pair, any two things coupled
together. "Mash\xE1'il\xEDyah jaft\xE1w\xE1t wa f\xE1n\xFAs\xEDn" in the text would
therefore be "(cresset-) bearers of double torches and lanterns,"
where the plural f\xE1n\xFAs\xEDn is remarkable as a vulgarism, instead of
the Dictionary form "Faw\xE1n\xEDs."--ST.]

[FN#148] So in Chavis and Cazotte: Gauttier and Heron prefer
(vol. i. 38) "Chamama." They add, "That d\xE6mon incarnate gave out
himself that Satan was his father and the devil Camos (?) his
brother." The Arab word is connected with shamma = he smelt, and
suggests the policeman smoking plots.

[FN#149] i.e. concealing the secret sins of the people. This
sketch of the cad policeman will find many an original in the
London force, if the small householder speak the truth.

[FN#150] Qui n'ait un point de contact aver l'une de ces

[FN#151] In the old translations "The Hazen" (Kh\xE1zin =
treasurer?) which wholly abolishes the double entendre.

[FN#152] In text "Darbis\xED al-b\xE1b" from the Persian, "Dar bastan"
= to tie up, to shut.

[FN#153] In text "Ghaush" for "Ghaushah" = noise, row.

[FN#154] "Akk\xE1l bula'hu" i.e. commit all manner of abominations.
"To eat skite" is to talk or act foolishly.

[FN#155] In the old translations "Ilamir Youmis."

[FN#156] In text "Dabb\xFAs bazdagh\xE1n\xED," which I have translated as
if from the Pers. "Bazdagh"
= a file. But it may be a clerical error for "Bardaw\xE1ni," the
well-known city in Hindostan whose iron was famous.

[FN#157] "Nahs" means something more than ill-omened, something
nasty, foul, uncanny: see vol. i. 301.

[FN#158] In Chavis, Heron and Co. there are two ladders to scale
the garden wall and descend upon the house-terrace which
apparently they do not understand to be the roof.

[FN#159] Arab. "Al-K\xE1fi'ah" = garde-fou, rebord d'une terrasse--

[FN#160] Our vulgar "Houri": see vols. i. 90; iii. 233. There are
many meanings of Hawar; one defines it as intense darkness of the
black of the eye and corresponding whiteness; another that it is
all which appears of the eye (as in the gazelle) meaning that the
blackness is so large as to exclude the whiteness; whilst a third
defines "Haur\xE1" as a woman beautiful in the "Mah\xE1jir" (parts
below and around the eyes which show when the face is veiled),
and a fourth as one whose whiteness of eye appears in contrast
with the black of the Kohl-Powder. See Chenery's Al-Hariri, pp.

[FN#161] Arab. "Zalamah" = tyrants, oppressors (police and
employ\xE9s): see vols. i. 273, and vi. 214.

[FN#162] In text "Kunn\xE1 nu't\xEDhu li-ahad" = we should have given
him to someone; which makes very poor sense. [The whole passage
runs: "H\xE1z\xE1 allaz\xED kasam all\xE1h bi-hi fa-lau k\xE1na rajul jayyid
ghayr luss kunn\xE1 nu't\xED-hu li-ahad," which I would translate: This
is he concerning whom Allah decreed (that he should be my
portion, swearing:) "and if he were a good man and no thief we
would have bestowed him on someone." In "kasama" the three ideas
of decreeing, giving as a share, and binding one's self by oath
are blended together. If it should appear out of place to
introduce Divinity itself as speaking in this context, we must
not forget that the person spoken of is no less illustrious
individual than Harun al-Rash\xEDd, and that a decidedly satirical
and humorous vein runs through the whole tale. Moreover, I doubt
that "li-ahad" could be used as equivalent for "li-ghayr\xED," "to
some other than myself," while it frequently occurs in the
emphatic sense of "one who is somebody, a person of consequence."
The damsel and her mother, on the other hand, allude repeatedly
to the state of utter helplessness in which they find themselves
in default of their natural protector, and which has reduced them
from an exalted station to the condition of nobodies. I speak, of
course, here as elsewhere, "under correction."--ST.]

[FN#163] In text "Hmsh." The Dicts. give Himmas and Himmis, forms
never heard, and Forsk. (Flora \xC6gypt.-Arab. p. lxxi.) "Homos,"
also unknown. The vulg. pron. is, "Hummus" or as Lane (M.E.
chapt. v.) has it "Hommus" (chick-peas). The word applies to the
pea, while "Mal\xE1n" is the plant in pod. It is the cicer arietinum
concerning which a classical tale is told. "Cicero (pron. Kikero)
was a poor scholar in the University of Athens, wherewith his
enemies in Rome used to reproach him, and as he passed through
the streets would call out 'O Cicer, Cicer, O,' a word still used
in Cambridge, and answers to a Servitor in Oxford." Quaint this
approximation between "Cicer" the vetch and "Sizar" which comes
from "size" = rations, the Oxford "battel."

[FN#164] Arab. "Yulakkimu," from "Lukmah" = a mouthful: see vols.
i. 266; vii. 367.

[FN#165] Arab. "Jarazat Kuzb\xE1n" (plur. or "Kaz\xEDb," see vol. ii.
66) = long and slender sticks.

[FN#166] i.e. a witch; see vol. viii. 131.

[FN#167] So in the phrase "Otbah hath the colic," first said
concerning Otbah b. Rab\xED'a by Ab\xFA Jahl when the former advised
not marching upon Badr to attack Mohammed. Tabari, vol. ii. 491.

[FN#168] Compare the French "Brr!"

[FN#169] i.e. to whom thou owest a debt of apology or excuse,
"Ghar\xEDm" = debtor or creditor.

[FN#170] Arab. "Jur\xE1b al-'uddah," i.e. the manacles, fetters,

[FN#171] The following three sentences are taken from the margin
of (MS.) p. 257, and evidently belong to this place.

[FN#172] In text "Bghb" evidently for "Baght" or preferably

[FN#173] This is a twice-told tale whose telling I have lightened
a little without omitting any important detail. Gauttier reduces
the ending of the history to less than five pages.

[FN#174] The normal idiom for "I accept."

[FN#175] In text Khila't dakk al-Matrakah," which I have rendered
literally: it seems to signify an especial kind of brocade.

[FN#176] The Court of Baghdad was, like the Urd\xFA (Horde or Court)
of the "Grand Mogul," organised after the ordinance of an army in
the field, with its centre, the Sovran, and two wings right and
left, each with its own Wazir for Commander, and its vanguard and

[FN#177] Being the only son he had a voice in the disposal of his
sister. The mother was the Kab\xEDrah = head of the household, in
Marocco Al-S\xEDdah = Madame m\xE8re; but she could not interfere
single-handed in affairs concerning the family. See Pilgrimage,
vol. iii. 198. Throughout Al-Islam in default of a father the
eldest brother gives away the sisters, and if there be no brother
this is done by the nearest male relation on the "sword" side.
The mother has no authority in such matters nor indeed has anyone
on the "spindle" side.

[FN#178] Alluding to the Wali and his men.

[FN#179] Arab. "Kunyah" (the pop. mispronunciation of "Kinyah")
is not used here with strict correctness. It is a fore-name or
bye-name generally taken from the favourite son, Ab\xFA (father of)
being prefixed. When names are written in full it begins the
string, e.g., Abu Mohammed (fore-name), K\xE1sim (true name), ibn
Ali (father's name), ibn Mohammed (grandfather's), ibn Osman
(great-grandfather), Al-Hariri (= the Silkman from the craft of
the family), Al-Basri (of Bassorah). There is also the "Lakab"
(sobriquet), e.g. Al-Bunduk\xE1n\xED or Bad\xED'u'l-Zam\xE1n (Rarity of the
Age), which may be placed either before or after the "Kunyah"
when the latter is used alone. Chenery (Al-Hariri, p.315)
confines the "Kunyah" to fore-names beginning with Ab\xFA; but it
also applies to those formed with Umm (mother), Ibn (son), Bint
(daughter), Akh (brother) and Ukht (sister). See vol. iv. 287. It
is considered friendly and graceful to address a Moslem by this
-Gaudent pr\xE6nomine molles Auricul\xE6.

[FN#180] In text "Y\xE1 Kaw\xE1k\xED," which M. Houdas translates "O
piailleur," remarking that here it would be = poule mouill\xE9e.

[FN#181] "'Alakah kh\xE1rijah" = an extraordinary drubbing.

[FN#182] In text "Ij'aln\xED f\xED kll," the latter word being
probably, as M. Houdas suggests, a clerical error for "Kal-a" or
"Kil\xE1a" = safety, protection.

[FN#183] I am surprised that so learned and practical an Arabist
as the Baron de Slane in his Fr. translation of Ibn Khald\xFAn
should render le surnom d'Er-Rechid (le prudent), for "The
Rightly Directed," the Orthodox (vol. ii. 237), when (ibid. p.
259) he properly translates "Al-Khulaf\xE1 al-rashid\xEDn" by Les
Califes qui marchent dans la voie droite.

[FN#184]  MSS. pp. 476-504.  This tale is laid down on the same
lines as "Ab\xFA al-Husn and his Slave-girl Tawaddud," vol. vi. 189.
It is carefully avoided by Scott, C. de Perceval, Gauttier, etc.

[FN#185]  Lit. an interpreter woman; the word is the fem. of
Tarjum\xE1n, a dragoman whom Mr. Curtis calls a Drag o' men; see
vol. i. 100.  It has changed wonderfully on its way from its
"Semitic" home to Europe which has naturalised it as Drogman,
Truchman and Dolmetsch.

[FN#186]  For this word of many senses, see vols. i. 231; ix.
221.  M. Caussin de Perceval (viii. 16), quoting d'Herbelot
(s.v.), notes that the Abbasides thus entitled the chief guardian
of the Harem.

[FN#187]  See vols. iv. 100; viii. 268.  In his Introduction (p.
22) to the Assemblies of Al-Hariri Chenery says, "This prosperity
had now passed away, for God had brought the people of Rum (so
the Arabs call the Byzantines, whom Ab\xFA Zayd here confounds with
the Franks) on the land," etc.  The confusion is not Abu Zayd's:
"Rum\xED" in Marocco and other archaic parts of the Moslem world is
still synonymous with our "European."

[FN#188]  This obedience to children is common in Eastern
folk-lore: see Suppl. vol. i. 143, in which the royal father
orders his son to sell him.  The underlying idea is that the
parents find their offspring too clever for them; not, as in the
"New World," that Youth is entitled to take precedence and
command of Age.

[FN#189]  In text "Fa min tumma" for "thumma"--then, alors.

[FN#190]  Such as the headstall and hobbles the cords and chains
for binding captives, and the mace and sword hanging to the

[FN#191]  i.e. not a well-known or distinguished horseman, but a
chance rider.

[FN#192]  These "letters of Mutalammis," as Arabs term our
Litter\xE6 Bellerophonte\xE6, or "Uriah's letters," are a lieu commun
in the East and the Prince was in luck when he opened and read
the epistle here given by mistake to the wrong man.  Mutalammis,
a poet of The Ignorance, had this sobriquet (the "frequent
asker," or, as we should say, the Solicitor-General), his name
being Jar\xEDr bin 'Abd al-Mas\xEDh.  He was uncle to Tarafah of the
Mu'-allakah or prize poem, a type of the witty dissolute bard of
the jovial period before Al-Islam arose to cloud and dull man's
life.  One day as he was playing with other children Mutalammis
was reciting a panegyric upon his favourite camel, which ran:--

I mount a he-camel, dark-red and firm-fleshed; or a she-camel of
Himyar, fleet of foot and driving the pebbles with her crushing

"See the he-camel turned to a she," cried the boy, and the phrase
became proverbial to express inelegant transition (Arab. Prov.
ii. 246).  The uncle bade his nephew put out his tongue and
seeing it dark-coloured said, "That black tongue will be thy
ruin!"  Tarafah, who was presently entitled Ibn al-'Ishrin (the
son of twenty years), grew up a model reprobate who cared nothing
save for three things, "to drink the dark-red wine foaming as the
water mixeth with it, to urge into the fight a broad-backed
steed, and to while away the dull day with a young beauty."  His
apology for wilful waste is highly poetic:--

I see that the grave of the careful, the hoarder, differeth not
from the grave of the debauched, the spendthrift:
A hillock of earth covers this and that, with a few flat stones
laid together thereon.

See the whole piece in Chenery's Al-Hariri (p. 360), from which
this note is borrowed.  At last uncle and nephew fled from ruin
to the Court of 'Amr\xFA bin Munz\xEDr III., King of Hira, who in the
tale of Al-Mutalammis and his wife Umaymah (The Nights, vol. v.
74) is called Al-Nu'um\xE1n bin Munzir but is better known as 'Amr\xFA
bin Hind (his mother).  The King, who was a derocious personage
nicknamed Al-Muharrik or the Burner, because he had thrown into
the fire ninety-nine men and one woman of the Tam\xEDm tribe in
accordance with a vow of vengeance he had taken to slaughter a
full century, made the two strangers boon-companions to his
boorish brother K\xE1b\xFAs.  Tarafah, offended because kept at the
tent-door whilst the master drank wine within, bitterly lampooned
him together with 'Abd Amr\xFA a friend of the King; and when this
was reported his death was determined upon.  Amr\xFA, the King,
seeing the anxiety of the two poets to quit his Court, offered
them letters of introduction to Ab\xFA K\xE1rib, Governor of Al-Hajar
(Bahrayn) under the Persian King and they were accepted.  The
uncle caused his letter to be read by a youth, and finding that
it was an order for his execution destroyed it and fled to Syria;
but the nephew was buried alive.  Amr\xFA, the King, was afterwards
slain by the poet-warrior, Amr\xFA bin Kulthum, also of the
"Mu'allak\xE1t," for an insult offered to his mother by Hind: hence
the proverb, "Quicker to slay than 'Amr\xFA bin Kulsum" (A.P. ii.

[FN#193]   See vols. i. 192; iii. 14; these correspond with the
"Stathmoi," Stationes, Mansiones or Castra of Herodotus, Terps.
cap. 53, and Xenophon. An. i. 2, 10.

[FN#194]  In text "Ittik\xE1" viiith of wak\xE1: the form "Takw\xE0" is
generally used = fearing God, whereby one guards oneself from sin
in this life and from retribution in the world to come.

[FN#195]  This series of puzzling questions and clever replies is
still as favourite a mental exercise in the East as it was in
middle-aged Europe.  The riddle or conundrum began, as far as we
know, with the Sphinx, through whose mouth the Greeks spoke:
nothing less likely than that the grave and mysterious Scribes of
Egypt should ascribe aught so puerile to the awful emblem of
royal majesty--Abu Haul, the Father of Affright.  Josephus
relates how Solomon propounded enigmas to Hiram of Tyre which
none but Abdimus, son of the captive Abd\xE6mon, could answer.  The
Tale of Tawaddud offers fair specimens of such exercises, which
were not disdained by the most learned of Arabian writers.  See
Al-Hariri's Ass. xxiv, which proposes twelve enigmas involving
abstruse and technical points of Arabic, such as: "What be the
word, which as ye will is a particle beloved, or the name of that
which compriseth the slender-waisted milch camel!"  Na'am = "Yes"
or "cattle," the latter word containing the Harf, or slender
camel.  Chenery, p. 246.

[FN#196]  For the sundry meanings and significance of "Sal\xE1m,"
here=Heaven's blessing, see vols. ii. 24, vi. 232.

[FN#197]  This is the nursery version of the Exodus, old as
Josephus and St. Jerome, and completely changed by the light of
modern learning.  The Children of Israel quitted their homes
about Memphis (as if a large horde of half-nomadic shepherds
would be suffered in the richest and most crowded home of Egypt).
They marched by the Wady M\xFAs\xE0 that debouches upon the Gulf of
Suez a short way below the port now temporarily ruined by its own
folly and the ill-will of M. de Lesseps; and they made the "Sea
of Sedge" (Suez Gulf) through the valley bounded by what is still
called Jabal 'At\xE1kah, the Mountain of Deliverance, and its
parallel range, Abu Durayj (of small steps).  Here the waters
were opened and the host passed over to the "Wells of Moses,"
erstwhile a popular picnic place on the Arabian side; but
according to one local legend (for which see my Pilgrimage, i.
294-97) they crossed the sea north of T\xFAr, the spot being still
called "Birkat Far'aun"=Pharoah's Pool.  Such also is the modern
legend amongst the Arabs, who learned their lesson from the
Christians (not the Jews) in the days when the Copts and the
Greeks (ivth century) invented "Mount Sinai."  And the reader
will do well to remember that the native annalists of Ancient
Egypt, which conscientiously relate all her defeats and
subjugations by the Ethiopians, Persians, etc., utterly ignore
the very name of Hebrew, Sons of Israel, etc.

I cannot conceal my astonishment at finding a specialist journal
like the "Quarterly Statement of the Palestine Exploration Fund"
(Oct., 1887) admitting such a paper as that entitled "The Exode,"
by R. F. Hutchinson, M.D.  For this writer the labours of the
last half-century are non-existing.  Job is still the "oldest
book" in the world.  The Rev. Charles Forster's absurdity,
"Israel in the wilderness," gives valuable assistance.  Goshen is
Mr. Chester's Tell Fak\xFAs (not, however, far wrong in this)
instead of the long depression by the Copts still called "Gesem"
or "Gesemeh," the frontier-land through which the middle course
of the Suez Canal runs.  "Succoth," tabernacles, is confounded
with the Arab.  "Sakf" = a roof.  Letopolis, the "key of the
Exode," and identified with the site where Babylon (Old Cairo)
was afterwards built, is placed on the right instead of the left
bank of the Nile.  "Bahr Kulzum" is the "Sea of the
Swallowing-up," in lieu of The Closing.  El-T\xEDh, "the wandering,"
is identified with Wady Musa to the west of the Suez Gulf.  And
so forth.  What could the able Editor have been doing?

Students of this still disputed question will consult "The Shrine
of Saft el-Henneh and the Land of Goschen," by Edouard Naville,
fifth Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund.  Published by order
of the Committee.  London, Tr\xFCbner, 1837.

[FN#198]  Eastern fable runs wild upon this subject, and indeed a
larger volume could be written upon the birth, life and death of
Moses' and Aaron's rods.  There is a host of legends concerning
the place where the former was cut and whence it descended to the
Prophet whose shepherd's staff was the glorification of his
pastoral life (the rod being its symbol) and of his future career
as a ruler (and flogger) of men.  In Exodus (viii. 3-10), when a
miracle was required of the brothers, Aaron's rod became a
"serpent" (A.V.) or, as some prefer, a "crocodile," an animal
worshipped by certain of the Egyptians; and when the King's
magicians followed suit it swallowed up all others.  Its next
exploit was to turn the Nile and other waters of Egypt into blood
(Exod. vii. 17).  The third wonder was worked by Moses' staff,
the dividing of the Red Sea (read the Sea of Sedge or papyrus,
which could never have grown in the brine of the Suez Gulf)
according to the command, "Lift thou up thy rod and stretch out
thine hand over the sea," etc. (Exod. xiv. 15).  The fourth
adventure was when the rod, wherewith Moses smote the river,
struck two blows on the rock in Horeb and caused water to come
out of it (Numb. xxi. 8).  Lastly the rod (this time again
Aaron's) "budded and brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms and
yielded almonds" (Numb. xvii. 7); thus becoming a testimony
against the rebels: hence it was set in the Holiest of the
Tabernacles (Heb. ix. 14) as a lasting memorial.  I have
described (Pilgrim. i. 301) the mark of Moses' rod at the little
Hammam behind the old Phoenician colony of Tur, in the miscalled
"Sinaitic" Peninsula: it is large enough to act mainmast for a
ship.  The end of the rod or rods is unknown: it died when its
work was done, and like many other things, holy and unholy, which
would be priceless, e.g., the true Cross or Pilate's sword, it
remains only as a memory around which a host of grotesque
superstitions have grouped themselves.

[FN#199]  In this word "Hayy" the Arab. and Heb. have the
advantage of our English: it means either serpent or living,

[FN#200]  It is nowhere said in Hebrew Holy Writ that "Pharaoh,"
whoever he may have been, was drowned in the "Red Sea."

[FN#201]  Arab.  "Kaml."  The Koranic legend of the Ant has, I
repeat, been charmingly commented upon by Edwin Arnold in
"Solomon and the Ant" (p.i., Pearls of the Faith).  It seems to
be a Talmudic exaggeration of the implied praise in Prov. vi. 6
and xxx. 25, "The ants are a people nto strong, yet they prepare
their meat in the summer" which, by the by, proves that the Wise
King could be caught tripping in his natural history, and that
they did not know everything down in Judee.

[FN#202]  Is\xE1, according to the Moslems, was so far like Adam
(Koran iii. 52) that he was not begotten in the normal way: in
fact his was a miraculous conception.  See vol. v. 238.

[FN#203]  For Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, a marvellous legendary
figure, see vols. iv. 175; v. 334.  The worship of Helios
(Apollo) is not extinct in mod. Greece where it survives under
the name of Elias.  So Dionysus has become St. Dionysius; Bacchus
the Drunken, St. George; and Artemis, St. Artemides the healer of

[FN#204]  Gesenius interprets it "Soldier of God"; the bye-name
given to Jacob presently became the national name of the Twelve
Tribes collectively; then it narrowed to the tribe of Judah;
afterwards it became = laymen as opposed to Levites, etc., and in
these days it is a polite synonym for Jew.  When you want
anything from any of the (self-) Chosen People you speak of him
as an Israelite; when he wants anything of you, you call him a
Jew, or a damned Jew, as the case may be.

[FN#205]  I am not aware that there is any general history of the
bell, beginning with the rattle, the gong and other primitive
forms of the article; but the subject seems worthy of a
monograph.  In Hebrew Writ the bell first appears in Exod.
xxviii. 33 as a fringe to the Ephod of the High Priest that its
tinkling might save him from intruding unwarned into the bodily
presence of the tribal God, Jehovah.

[FN#206]  Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth), where, according to
some Moslems, the Solomon was buried.

[FN#207]  I cannot explain this legend.

[FN#208]  So the old English rhyme, produced for quite another
purpose by Sir John Bull in "Wat Tyler's Rebellion" (Hume, Hist.
of Eng., vol. i. chapt. 17):--

          "When Adam dolve and Eve span,
          Who was then the gentleman?"

A variant occurs in a MS. of the xvth century, Brit. Museum:--

          "Now bethink the gentleman,
          How Adam dalf and Eve span."

And the German form is:--

          "So Adam reutte (reute) and Eva span
          Wwer was da ein Eddelman (Edelman)?"

[FN#209]  Plur. of "'Usf\xFAr" = a bird, a sparrow.  The etymology
is characteristically Oriental and Mediaeval, reminding us of Dan
Chaucer's meaning of Cecilia "Heaven's lily" (S\xFAsan) or "Way for
the blind" (C\xE6cus) or "Thoughts of Holiness" and lia=lasting
industry; or, "Heaven and Leos" (people), so that she might be
named the people's heaven (The SEcond Nonne's Tale).

[FN#210]  i.e. "F\xEDr is rebellious."

[FN#211]  Both of which, I may note, are not things but states,
modes or conditions of things.  See. vol. ix. 78.

[FN#212]  "Sal\xE1t" = the formal ceremonious prayer.  I have
noticed (vol. iv. 60) the sundry technical meanings of the term
Sal\xE1t, from Allah=Mercy; from Angel-kind=intercession and pardon,
and from mankind=a blessing.

[FN#213]  Possibly "A prayer of Moses, the man of God," the title
of the highly apocryphal Psalm xc.

[FN#214]  Arab.  "Lib\xE1s" = clothes in general.

[FN#215]  In text "Zafar" = victory.  It may also be
"Zifr"=alluding to the horny matter which, according to Moslem
tradition, covered the bodies of "our first parents" and of which
after the "original sin" nothing remained but the nails of their
fingers and toes.  It was only when this disappeared that they
became conscious of their nudity.  So says M. Houdas; but I
prefer to consider the word as Zafar=plaited hair.

[FN#216]  According to Al-Mas'udi (i. 86, quoting Koran xxi. 52),
Abraham had already received of Allah spiritual direction or
divine grace ("Rushdu 'llah" or "Al-Hud\xE0") which made him
sinless.  In this opinoin of the Imamship, says my friend Prof.
A. Sprenger, the historian is more fatalistic than most Sunnis.

[FN#217]  Modern Moslems are all agreed in making Ishmael and not
Issac the hero of this history: see my Pilgrimage (vol. iii.
306).  But it was not always so.  Al-Mas'udi (vol. ii. 146)
quotes the lines of a Persian poet in A.H. 290 (=A.D. 902) which
expressly say "Is'h\xE1ku k\xE1na'l-Zab\xEDh" = Isaac was the victim, and
the historian refers to this in sundry places.  Yet the general
idea is that Ishmael succeeded his father (as eldest son) and was
succeeded by Isaac; and hence the bitter family feud between the
Eastern Jews and the ARab Gentiles.

[FN#218]  In text "Tajui"=lit. thou pluckest (the fruit of good
deeds).  M. Houdas translates Tu recueilles, mot \xE0 mot tu

[FN#219]  See note at the end of this tale.

[FN#220]  Amongst the Jews the Temple of Jerusalem was a
facsimile of the original built by Jehovah in the lowest heaven
or that of the Moon.  For the same idea (doubtless a derivation
from the Talmud) amongst the Moslems concerning the heavenly
Ka'abah called Bayt al-Ma'mur (the Populated House) see my
Pilgrimage iii. 186, et seq.

[FN#221]  i.e. there is an end of the matter.

[FN#222]  In text "Massa-hu'l Fakr"=poverty touched him.

[FN#223]  He had sold his father for a horse, etc., and his
mother for a fine dress.

[FN#224]  This enigma is in the style of Samson's (Judges xiv.
12) of which we complain that the unfortuante Philistines did not
possess the sole clue which could lead to the solution; and here
anyone with a modicum of common sense would have answered, "Thou
art the man!"  The riddles with which the Queen of Sheba visited
Solomon must have been simply hard questions somewhat like those
in the text; and the relator wisely refuses to record them.

[FN#225] We should say "To eclipse the sun."

[FN#226]  A very intelligible offer.

[FN#227]  Arab.  "Bi Asri-hi," lit. "rope and all;"
metaphorically used=altogether, entirely: the idea is borrowed
from the giving or selling of a beast with its thong, halter,
chain, etc.

[FN#228]  In the text, "K\xE1hin," a Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a
soothsayer: see Al-Kah\xE1nah, vol. i. 28.  In Heb. Kahana=he
ministered (priests' offices or other business) and Cohen=a
priest either of the true God or of false gods.

[FN#229]  This ending with its r\xE9sum\xE9 of contents is somewhat
hors ligne, yet despite its vain repetition I think it advisable
to translate it.

[FN#230]  "And she called his name Moses, and she said because
from the water I drew him" (Exod. ii. 10).

[FN#231]  The Pharoah of the Exodus is popularly supposed by
Moslems to have treated his leprosy with baths of babes' blood,
the babes being of the Ban\xFA Isr\xE1\xEDl.  The word "Pharoah" is not
without its etymological difficulties.

[FN#232]  Graetz (Geschichte i. note 7) proves that "Aram," in
the Hebrew text (Judges iii. 8), should be "Edom."

[FN#233]  I give a quadruple increase, at least 25 per centum
more than the genealogies warrant.

[FN#234] MS. pp. 505-537. This story is found in the "Turkish
Tales" by Petis de la Croix who translated one fourth of the
"Forty Wazirs" by an author self-termed "Shaykh Z\xE1deh." It is
called the "History of Chec Chahabeddin" (Shaykh Shih\xE1b al-D\xEDn),
and it has a religious significance proving that the Apostle did
really and personally make the "Mi'raj" (ascent to Heaven) and
returned whilst his couch was still warm and his upset gugglet
had not run dry. The tale is probably borrowed from Saint Paul,
who (2 Cor. xii. 4) was "caught up into Paradise," which in those
days was a kind of region that roofed the earth. The Shaykh in
question began by showing the Voltairean Sultan of Egypt certain
specious miracles, such as a phantom army (in our tale two
lions), Cairo reduced to ashes, the Nile in flood and a Garden of
Irem, where before lay a desert. He then called for a tub,
stripped the King to a zone girding his loins and made him dip
his head into the water. Then came the adventures as in the
following tale. When after a moment's space these ended, the
infuriated Sultan gave orders to behead the Shaykh, who also
plunged his head into the tub; but the Wizard divined the
ill-intent by "Muk\xE1shafah" (thought-reading); and by "Al-Ghayb
'an al-Abs\xE1r" (invisibility) levanted to Damascus. The reader
will do well to compare the older account with the "First Vizir's
Story" (p. 17) in Mr. Gibb's "History of the Forty Vizirs," etc.
As this scholar remarks, the Mi'r\xE1j, with all its wealth of wild
fable, is simply alluded to in a detached verses of the Koran
(xvii. 1) which runs: [I declare] "The glory of Him who
transported His servant by night from the Sacred Temple (of
Meccah) to the Remote Temple (of Jerusalem), whose precincts we
have blessed, that we might show him of our signs." After this
comes an allusion to Moses (v. 2); Mr. Gibb observes (p. 22) that
this lengthening out of the seconds was a favourite with
"Dervishes," as he has shown in "The Story of Jew\xE1d ," and
suggests that the effect might have been produced by some drug
like Hashish. I object to Mr. Gibb's use of the word "Hour)"
(ibid. p. 24) without warning the reader that it is an irregular
formation, masculine withal for "Hur\xEDyah," and that the Pers.
"H\xFAri," from which the Turks borrowed their blunder, properly
means "One H\xFAr."

[FN#235] For the Dajlah (Tigris) and Fur\xE1t (Euphrates) see vols.
viii. 150- ix. 17. The topothesia is worse than Shakespearean. In
Weber's Edit. of the "New Arabian Nights" (Adventures of
Simoustapha, etc.), the rivers are called "Ilfara" and "Aggiala."

[FN#236] In text "Alw\xE1n," for which see vol. vii. 135.

[FN#237] [The word which is here translated with: "and one had
said that he had laboured hard thereat (walaw\xE1'yh?) seems
scarcely to bear out this meaning. I would read it "wa'l-Aw'iyah"
(plur. of wi'\xE1), rendering accordingly: "and the vessels (in
which the aforesaid meats were set out) shimmered like unto
silver for their cleanliness."--ST.]

[FN#238] In text "Al-Wahwah."

[FN#239] In text, "Mutasa'lik" for "Moutasa'lik" = like a

[FN#240] For this "high-spirited Prince and noble-minded lord"
see vol. ix. 229.

[FN#241] In text "Bis\xE1ta-hum" = their carpets.

[FN#242] In text "Haw\xE1n\xEDt," plur. of "Han\xFAt" = the shop or vault
of a vintner, pop. derived from the Persian Kh\xE1neh. In Jer.
xxvii. 16, where the A. V. has "When Jeremiah was entered into
the dungeon and into the cabins," read "underground vaults,"
cells or cellars where wine was sold. "Han\xFAt" also means either
the vintner or the vintner's shop. The derivation because it
ruins man's property and wounds his honour is the jeu d'esprit of
a moralising grammarian. Chenery's Al-Hariri, p. 377.

[FN#243] In the Arab. "Jaw\xE1k\xEDn," plur. of Arab. Jauk\xE1n for Pers.
Chaug\xE1n, a crooked stick a club, a bat used for the Persian form
of golf played on horseback--Polo.

[FN#244] [The text reads "Liyah," and lower down twice with the
article "Al-Liyah" (double Lam). I therefore suspect that
"Liyyah," equivalent with "Luwwah," is intended which both mean
Aloes-wood as used for fumigation (yutabakhkharu bi-hi). For the
next ingredient I would read "Kit'ah humrah," a small quantity of
red brickdust, a commodity to which, I do not know with what
foundation, wonderful medicinal powers are or were ascribed. This
interpretation seems to me the more preferable, as it presently
appears that the last-named articles had to go into the phial,
the mention of which would otherwise be to no purpose and which I
take to have been finally sealed up with the sealing clay. The
whole description is exceedingly loose, and evidently sorely
corrupted, so I think every attempt at elucidation may be

[FN#245] "Wa K\xEDta'h hamrah," which M. Houdas renders un morceau
de viande cuite.

[FN#246] This is a specimen of the Islamised Mantra called in
Sanskrit Stambhana and intended to procure illicit intercourse.
Herklots has printed a variety of formul\xE6 which are popular
throughout southern India: even in the Maldive Islands we find
such "Fandita" (i.e. Panditya, the learned Science) and Mr. Bell
(Journ., Ceylon Br. R. A. S. vii. 109) gives the following
specimen, "Write the name of the beloved; pluck a bud of the
screw-pine (here a palette de mouton), sharpen a new knife, on
one side of the bud write the Surat al-Badr (chapter of Power,
No. xxi., thus using the word of Allah for Satan's purpose); on
the other side write Vajahata; make an image out of the bud;
indite particulars of the horoscope copy from beginning to end
the Surat al-Rahm\xE1n (the Compassionating, No. xlviii.);, tie the
image in five places with coir left-hand-twisted (i.e.
widdershins or 'against the sun'); cut the throat of a
blood-sucker (lizard); smear its blood on the image; place it in
a loft, dry it for three days, then take it and enter the sea. If
you go in knee deep the woman will send you a message; if you go
in to the waist she will visit you." (The Voyage of Francois
Pyrard, etc., p. 179.) I hold all these charms to be mere
instruments for concentrating and intensifying the brain action
called Will, which is and which presently will be recognised as
the chief motor-power. See Suppl. vol. iii.

[FN#247] Probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns.

[FN#248] In text "Kam\xE1 zukira f\xED Dayli-h" = arrange-toi de facon
\xE0 l'atteindre (Houdas).

[FN#249] Proverbial for its depth: K\xE1sh\xE1n is the name of sundry
cities; here one in the Jib\xE1l or Ir\xE1k 'Ajami--Persian

[FN#250] Doubtless meaning Christians.

[FN#251] The Sage had summoned her by the preceding spell which
the Princess obeyed involuntarily.

[FN#252] i.e., last night, see vol. iii. 249.

[FN#253] In text "Wuld\xE1n" = "Ghilm\xE1n": the boys of Paradise; for
whom and their feminine counterparts the H\xFAr (Al-Ayn) see vols.
i. 90, 211; iii. 233.

[FN#254] Arab. "Dukhn" = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain, a
congener of the Zurrah or Durrah = Holcus Sativus, Forsk. cxxiii.
The incident is not new. In "Des blaue Licht," a Mecklenburg tale
given by Grimm, the King's daughter who is borne through the air
to the soldier's room is told by her father to fill her pocket
with peas and make a hole therein; but the sole result was that
the pigeons had a rare feast. See Suppl. vol. iii. 375.

[FN#255] i.e., a martyr of love. See vols. iii. 211; i-iv. 205.

[FN#256] In the text "Ka'ka'"; hence the higher parts of Meccah,
inhabited by the Jurham tribe, was called "Jabal Ka'ka'\xE1n," from
their clashing arms (Pilgrimage iii. 191).

[FN#257] This was the work of the form of magic popularly known
as S\xEDmiy\xE1 = fascination, for which see vol. i. 305, 332. It is
supposed to pass away after a period of three days, and
mesmerists will find no difficulty in recognising a common effect
upon "Odylic sensitives."

[FN#258] Here supply the MS. with "ill\xE1."

[FN#259] In text "tatadakhkhal'alay-h:" see "Dakh\xEDl-ak," vol. i.

[FN#260] Or "he": the verb may also refer to the Sage.

[FN#261] Arab. "Kazafa" = threw up, etc.

[FN#262] This, in the case of the Wazir, was a transformation for
the worse: see vol. vii. 294, for the different kinds of

[FN#263] i.e. my high fortune ending in the lowest.

[FN#264] In text "Bakar" = black cattle, whether bull, ox or cow.
For ploughing with bulls.

[FN#265] In text "Mukrif" = lit. born of a slave father and free

[FN#266] In text "Antum f\xED kh\xE1shin wa b\xE1sh," an error for
"kh\xE1sh-m\xE1sh" = a miserable condition.

[FN#267] In text "yatbashsh" for "yanbashsha." [Or it may stand
for yabtashsh, with transpositions of the "t" of the eighth form,
as usual in Egypt. See Spitta-Bey's Grammar, p. 198.-- ST.]

[FN#268] "Jan\xE1nan," which, says M. Houdas, is the vulgar form of
"Jannatan" = the garden (of Paradise). The Wazir thus played a
trick upon his hearers. [The word in the text may read "Jin\xE1nan,"
accusative of "Jin\xE1n," which is the broken plural of "Jannah,"
along with the regular plural "Jann\xE1t," and, like the latter,
used for the gardens of Paradise.--ST.]

[FN#269] For this name of the capital of Eastern Arabia see vols.
i. 33, vii. 24.

[FN#270] "To be" is the Anglo-Oriental form of "Thaub" = in
Arabia a loose robe like a nightgown. See ii. 206.

[FN#271] The good old Mosaic theory of retribution confined to
this life, and the belief that Fate is the fruit of man's action.

[FN#272] Arab. "Sandar\xFAsah" = red juniper gum (Thuja articulata
of Barbary), red arsenic realgar, from the Pers. Sandar = amber.

[FN#273] MSS. pp. 718-724. This fable, whose moral is that the
biter is often bit, seems unknown to \xC6sop and the compilation
which bore his name during the so-called Dark Ages. It first
occurs in the old French metrical Roman de Renart entitled, Si
comme Renart prist Chanticler le Coq (ea. Meon, tom. i. 49). It
is then found in the collection of fables by Marie, a French
poetess whose Lais are still extant; and she declares to have
rendered it de l'Anglois en Roman; the original being an Anglo-
Saxon version of \xC6sop by a King whose name is variously written
Li reis Alured (Alfred ?), or Aunert (Albert ?), or Henris, or
Mires. Although Alfred left no version of \xC6sop there is in MS. a
Latin \xC6sop containing the same story of an English version by Rex
Angliae Affrus. Marie's fable is printed in extenso in the
Chaucer of Dr. Morris (i. 247); London, Bell and Sons, 1880; and
sundry lines remind us of the Arabic, e.g.:--

          Li gupil volt parler en haut,
          Et li cocs de sa buche saut,
          Sur un haut fust s'est muntez.

And it ends with the excellent moral:--

          Ceo funt li fol tut le plusur,
          Parolent quant deivent taiser,
          Teisent quant il deivent parler.

Lastly the Gentil Cok hight Chanticlere and the Fox, Dan Russel,
a more accidented tale, appears in "The Nonne Preestes Tale," by
the Grand Traducteur.

[FN#274] "Dur\xE0" in MS. (p. 718) for "Zur\xE0," the classical term,
or for "Zurrah," pop. pronounced "Durrah"=the Holcus Sativus
before noticed, an African as well as Asiatic growth, now being
supplanted by maize and rice.

[FN#275] "Sa'alab" or "Tha'lab": vol. iii. 132.

[FN#276] In text "Kik\xE1n," plur. of "K\xEDik" =des corneilles

[FN#277] "Samman" or "Summ\xE1n," classically "Salw\xE0."

[FN#278] In text "Al-Kaw\xE1n\xED"=the spears, plur. of "Kan\xE1t." ["Al-
Kaw\xE1n\xED" as plural of a singular "Kan\xE1t"=spear would be, I think,
without analogy amongst the plural formations, and its
translation by "punishment" appears somewhat strained. I propose
to read "al-Ghaw\xE1n\xED" and to translate "and whoever lags behind of
the singing birds will not be safe" ("l\xE1 yaslimu," it will not go
well with him). In the mouth of the fox this implies a delicate
compliment for the cock, who might feel flattered to be numbered
amongst the same tribe with the nightingale and the thrush.--ST.]

[FN#279] In text "y\xE1 zayn" =Oh, the beautiful beast!

[FN#280] In text "Ab\xFA Sah\xEDh"=(flight to) a sure and safe place.

[FN#281] MS. pp. 725-739.

[FN#282] Arab. "Z\xE1bit," from "Zabt"=keeping in subjection,
holding tight, tying. Hence "Zabtiyah" = a constable and "Z\xE1bit"
= a Prefect of Police. See vol. i. 259. The rhyming words are
"R\xE1bit" and "H\xE1bit."

[FN#283] In text "R\xE1hib" = monk or lion.

[FN#284] The lines are wholly corrupt.

[FN#285] The "Bahalul" of D'Herbelot. This worthy was a
half-witted Sage (like the Iourodivi of Russia and the Irish
Omadhaun), who occupies his own place in contemporary histories
flourished under Harun al-Rashid and still is famous in Persian
Story. When the Caliph married him perforce and all the
ceremonies were duly performed and he was bedded with the bride,
he applied his ear to her privities and forthwith ran away with
the utmost speed and alarm. They brought him back and questioned
him concerning his conduct when he made answer, " If you had only
heard what it said to me you would have done likewise." In the
text his conduct is selfish and ignoble as that of Honorius

          "Who strove to merit heaven by making earth a hell."

And he shows himself heartless and unhuman as the wretched St.
Alexius of the Gesta Romanorum (Tale xv.), a warning of the
intense selfishness solemnly and logically inculcated by
Christianity. See vol. v. 150.

[FN#286] Koran, ch. li. v. 17.

[FN#287] Koran xx. 57: it is the famous "T\xE1-H\xE1" whose first 14-16
verses are said to have converted the hard-headed Omar. In the
text the citation is garbled and imperfect.

[FN#288] In text "Mas'h."

[FN#289] "His\xE1ban taw\xEDl" = a long punishment.

[FN#290] The rod of Moses (see pp. 76-77) is the great prototype
in Al-Islam of the staff or walking stick, hence it became a
common symbol of dignity and it also served to administer ready
chastisement, e.g. in the hands of austere Caliph Omar.

[FN#291] An onomatopy like "Co\xFCic, Co\xFCic." For "Maksah," read
"Fa-s\xE1ha" = and cried out.

[FN#292] "Zind\xEDk" = Atheist, Agnostic: see vols. v. 230; viii.

[FN#293] "Har\xEDsah" = meat-pudding. In Al-Hariri (Ass. xix.) where
he enumerates the several kinds of dishes with their metonomies
it is called the "Mother of Strengthening" (or Restoration)
because it contains wheat--"the Strengthener" (as opposed to
barley and holcus). So the "Mother of Hospitality" is the Sikb\xE1j,
the Persian Sikb\xE1, so entitled because it is the principal dish
set before guests and was held to be royal food. (Chenery pp.
218, 457.) For the latter see infra.

[FN#294] This passage in the MS. (p. 733) is apparently corrupt.
I have done my best to make sense of it.

[FN#295] In text " Kamburisiyah."

[FN#296] In the Dicts. a plant with acid flavour, dried, pounded
and peppered over meat.

[FN#297] In text "Najas" = a pear.

[FN#298] "Tutmaj\xEDyah" for "Tutm\xE1j."

[FN#299] "Sikb\xE1j," a marinated stew like "Zirb\xE1jah" (vol. iii.
278): Khusrau Parwez, according to the historians, was the first
for whom it was cooked and none ate of it without his permission.
See retro.

[FN#300] Kishk=ground wheat, oatmeal or barley-flour eaten with
soured sheep's milk and often with meat.

[FN#301] So in text: I suspect for "'Aj\xEDnniyah" = a dish of

[FN#302] The Golden Calf is alluded to in many Koranic passages,
e.g. S\xFArah ii. (the Cow) 48; vii. (Al-Aar\xE1f) 146; S. Iiv. (Woman)
152; but especially in S. xx. (T\xE1 H\xE1) 90, where S\xE1miri is
expressly mentioned. Most Christian commentators translate this
by "Samaritan" and unjustly note it as " a grievous ignorance of
history on the part of Mohammed." But the word is mysterious and
not explained. R. Jehuda (followed by Geiger) says upon the text
(Exod. xxxii. 24), "The calf came forth lowing and the Israelites
beheld it"; also that "Samael entered into it and lowed in order
to mislead Israel" (Pirke R. Eliezer, 45). Many Moslems identify
Samiri with Micha (Judges xvii.), who is said to have assisted in
making the calf (Raschi, Sanhedr. cii. 2; Hottinger, Hist.
Orient. p. 84). Selden (de Diis Syr. Syn. 1. cap.4) supposes that
Samiri is Aaron himself, the Shomeer or keeper of Israel during
the absence of Moses. Mr. Rodwell (Koran, 2nd Edit. p. 90) who
cleaves to the " Samaritan" theory, writes, " It is probable (?)
that the name and its application, in the present instance, is to
be traced to the old national feud between the Jews and the
Samaritans"--of which Mohammed, living amongst the Jews, would be
at least as well informed as any modern European. He quotes De
Sacy (Chrest. i. 189) who states that Abu Rayhan Mohammed Bir\xFAni
represents the Samaritans as being nicknamed (not Al-limsahsit as
Mr. Rodwell has it, but) "L\xE1 Mesas" or "L\xE1 Mes\xE1siyah" = the
people who say "no touch" (i.e. touch me not, from S\xFArah xx. 97),
and Juynboll, Chron. Sam. p. 113 (Leid. 1848). Josephus (Ant.
xii. cap. 1) also mentions a colony of Samaritans settled in
Egypt by Ptolemy Lagus, some of whose descendants inhabited Cairo
as late as temp. Scaliger (De Emend. Temp. vii. 622). Sale
notices a similar survival on one of the islands of the Red Sea.
In these days the Samaritans or, as their enemies call them the
Cuthim ("men from Cutha," Cushites), in physical semblance
typical Jews, are found only at N\xE1bl\xFAs where the colony has been
reduced by intermarriage of cousins and the consequent greater
number of male births to about 120 souls. They are, like the
Shi'ah Moslems, careful to guard against ceremonial pollution:
hence the epithet "Noli me tangere."

[FN#303] Alluding to the "Sayy\xE1d," lit. = a fisherman.

[FN#304] In text "Al-Zahr."

[FN#305] "Ajd\xE1r."

[FN#306] In text "Al-Mal\xE1ya."

[FN#307] In text "Sinaubar," which may also mean pistachio-tree.

[FN#308] i.e. 475 to 478 Eng. grains avoir., less than the
Ukiyyah or Wukiyyah=ounce = 571.5 to 576 grains. Vol. ix. 216.

[FN#309] Not more absurd than an operatic hero singing while he

[FN#310]  MS. pp. 588-627.  In Gauttier's edit. vii. (234-256),
it appears as Histoire de l'Habitant de Damas.  His advertisement
in the beginning of vol. vii. tells us that it has been printed
in previous edits., but greatly improved in his; however that may
be, the performance is below contempt.  In Heron it becomes The
POWER OF DESTINY, or Story of the Journey of Giafar to Damascus,
comprehending the adventures of Chebib and his Family (Vol. i.
Pp. 69-175).

[FN#311]   Damascus-city (for which see the tale of N\xFAr al-Din
Ali and his Son, The Nights, vol. i. 239-240) derives its name
from Dimishk who was son of B\xE1tir, i. M\xE1lik, i. Arphaxed, i.
Sh\xE1m, i. Nuh (Noah); or son of Nimrod, son of Canaan.  Sh\xE1m =
Syria (and its capital) the land on the left, as opposed to
Al-Yaman the land on the right of one looking East, is noticed in
vol. i. 55.  In Mr. Cotheal's MS. Damascus is entitled "Sh\xE1m"
because it is the "Sh\xE1mat" cheek-mole (beauty-spot) of Allah upon
earth.  "Jalak" the older name of the "Smile of the Prophet," is
also noted: see vol. ii. 109.

[FN#312]  H\xE1tim of the Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality.
See vols. iv. 95, and vii. 350.

[FN#313]  In Mr. Cotheal's MS. the Caliph first laughs until he
falls backwards, and then after reading further, weeps until his
beard in bathed.

[FN#314]  Heron inserts into his text, "It proved to be a
Giaffer, famous throughout all Arabia," and informs us (?) in a
foot-note that it is "Ascribed to a prince of the Barmecide race,
an ancestor of the Gran Vizier Giafar."  The word "Jafr" is
supposed to mean a skin (camel's or dog's), prepared as parchment
for writing; and Al-Jafr, the book here in question, is described
as a cabalistic prognostication of all that will ever happen to
the Moslems.  The authorship is attributed to Ali, son-in-law of
the Prophet.  There are many legendary tales concerning its
contents; however, all are mere inventions as the book is
supposed to be kept in the Prophet's family, nor will it be fully
explained until the Mahdi or Forerunner of Doomsday shall
interpret its difficulties.  The vulgar Moslems of India are apt
to confuse Al-Jafr with Ja'afar bin Tayy\xE1r, the Jinni who is
often quoted in talismans (see Herklots, pp. 109-257).
D'Herbelot gives the sum of what is generally known about the
"Jafr" (wa J\xE1mi'a) under the articles "Ali" and "Gefru Giame."

[FN#315]  The father (whom Heron calls "Hichia Barmaki") spoke
not at random, but guessed that the Caliph had been reading the
book Al-Jafr.

[FN#316]  Heron calls Ja'afar's wife "Fatm\xE9" from the French.

[FN#317]  This is the open grassy space on the left bank of the
Baradah River, first sighted by travellers coming from Bayr\xFAt.
See vol. i. 234, where it is called Al-Has\xE1 = the Plain of

[FN#318]  Heron names him Chebib (Hab\xEDb) also "Xakem Tai-Chebib"
= H\xE1tim Tayy Hab\xEDb.

[FN#319]  The scene is described at full length in the Cotheal
MS. with much poetry sung by a fair slave-girl and others.

[FN#320]  Again showing the date of the tale to be modern.  See
my Terminal Essay, p. 85.

[FN#321]  This might serve even in these days to ask a worshipful
guest why he came, and what was his business--it is the address
of a well-bred man to a stranger of whose rank and station he is
ignorant.  The vulgar would simply say, "Who art thou, and what
is thy native country?"

[FN#322]  In Heron the host learns everything by the book

[FN#323]  In text "Muzawwa" which the Egyptian pronounces

[FN#324]  Which would be necessary after car. cop. with his

[FN#325]  In text "Kabr al-Sitt," wherein the Sitt Zaynab, aunt
to Mohammed, is supposed to lie buried.  Here the cultivation
begins about half a mile's ride from the B\xE1b-al-Sh\xE1gh\xFAr or S.
Western gate of the city.  It is mentioned by Baedeker (p. 439),
and ignored by Murray, whose editor, Mr. Missionary Porter,
prefers to administer the usual dainty dish of "hashed Bible."

[FN#326]  Arab.  "J\xE1mi' al-Amaw\xED": for this Mosque, one of the
Wonders of the Moslem World, consult any Guide Book to Damascus.
See Suppl. vol. iv. Night cccxlii.  In Heron it becomes the
"Giamah Illamoue," one of the three most famous mosques in the

[FN#327]  M. houdas trasnlates "Tarz," "M\xE1rkaz" or "Mirk\xE1z" by Un
pierrre en forme de dame, instrument qui sert \xE0 enfoncer les
pav\xE9s (= our "beetle"); c'est-\xE0-dire en form de borne.

[FN#328]  For this "window-gardening," an ancient practice in the
East, see vol. i. 301.

[FN#329]  Heron calls her "Negemet-il-Souper" = Najmat al-Sab\xE1h =
Constellation of Morn.  In the Cotheal MS. she uses very harsh
language to the stranger, "O Bull (i.e. O stupid), this be not
thy house nor yet the house of thy sire," etc.; "go forth to the
curse of God and get thee to Hell," etc.

[FN#330]  For "Kayf" = joy, the pleasure of living, see my
Pligrimage i. 12-13.

[FN#331]  In text, "'Ayyik," or "'Ayyuk" = a hinderer (of
disease) from 'Ayk or 'Auk, whence also 'Ayy\xFAk = Capella, a
bright star proverbial for its altitude, as in the Turk, saw "to
give praise to the 'Ayy\xFAk" = skies.

[FN#332]  Auspicious formul\xE6.  The Cotheal MS. calls the
physician "Dubdihk\xE1n."

[FN#333]  In text "Kullu Shayyin l\xED mu'as'as"; the latter from
"'As'as" = to complicate a matter.

[FN#334]  A sign that he diagnosed a moral not a bodily disorder.
We often find in The Nights, the doctor or the old woman
distinguishing a love-fit by the pulse or similar obscure
symptoms, as in the case of Seleucus, Stratonice and her step-son
Antiochus--which seems to be the arch-type of these anecdotes.

[FN#335]  Arab.  "Kirsh," before explained; in Harun's day = 3

[FN#336]  In the Cotheal MS. the recipe occupies a whole page of
ludicrous items, e.g. Let him take three Miskals of pure
"Union-with-the-lover," etc.

[FN#337]  In the Cotheal MS. Attaf seeks his paternal uncle and
father-in-law with the information that he is going to the
Pilgrimage and Visitation.

[FN#338]  Called in the old translation or rather adaptation
"Scheffander-Hassan" or simply "Scheffander" = Shahbandar Hasan,
for which see vol. iv. 29.  In the Cotheal MS. (p. 33) he becomes
the "Emir Omar, and the B\xE1sh\xE1 of Damascus" (p. 39).

[FN#339]  The passage is exceedingly misspelt.  "Amm\xE1 min Mayl\xED
Binti-ka sh\xE1sh\xED An\xE1 Aswadu (for Sh\xE1shi M. Houdas reads "J\xE1sh\xED" =
my heart) Wa Tan\xE1 (read "Than\xE1," reputation) Binti-ka abyazu min

[FN#340]  One of the formul\xE6 of divorce.

[FN#341]  In text "Mu\xE1bal\xE1r min Shaani-ka."  M. Houdas reads the
first word "Muz\xE1bal" = zubl\xE1n, wearied, flaccid, weak.

[FN#342]  For "Al-'iddah," in the case of a divorc\xE9e three lunar
months, for a widow four months and ten days and for a pregnant
woman, the interval until her delivery, see vols. iii. 292; vi.
256; and x. 43: also Lane (M.E.) chap. iii.

[FN#343]  In text "Alfi (4th form of 'Lafw') H\xE1jatan," the
reading is that of M. Houdas; and the meaning would be "what dost
thou want (in the way of amusement)?  I am at thy disposal."

[FN#344]  Heron has here interpolated an adventure with a
Bazar-cook and another with a Confectioner: both discover Ja'afar
also by a copy of the "Giaffer" (Al-Jafr).  These again are
followed by an episode with a fisherman who draws in a miraculous
draught by pronouncing the letters "Gim. Bi. Ouaow" (w\xE1w = J. B.
W.), i.e. Ja'afar, Barmecide, Wazir; and discovers the Minister
by a geomantic table.  Then three Darvishes meet and discourse
anent the virtues of "Chebib" (i.e. Attaf); and lastly come two
blind men, the elder named Benphises, whose wife having studied
occultism and the Dom-Daniel of Tunis, discovers Ja'afar.  All
this is to marshal the series of marvels and wonders upon wonders
predicted to Ja'afar by his father when commanding him to visit
Damascus; and I have neither space nor inclination to notice
their enormous absurdities.

[FN#345]  This Governor must not be confounded with the virtuous
and parsimonious Caliph of the same name the tenth of the series
(reign A.D. 692-705) who before ruling studied theology at
Al-Medinah and won the sobriquet of "Mosque-pigeon."  After his
accession he closed the Koran saying, "Here you and I part," and
busied himself wholly with mundane matters.  The Cotheal MS.
mentions only the "Nabob" (N\xE1ib = lieutenant) of Syria.

[FN#346]  "Kap\xFA" (written and pronounced Kapi in Turk.) is a
door, a house or a government office and Kap\xFAj\xED = a porter;
Kap\xFAj\xED-b\xE1sh\xED = head porter; also a chamberlain in Arab.  "H\xE1j\xEDb";
and Kap\xFA Katkh\xFAd\xE1si (pron. Kapi-Ky\xE1yas\xED) = the agent which every
Governor is obliged to keep at Constantinople.

[FN#347]  In text "Al-buy\xFArdi," clerical error for "Buy\xFAruldi"
(pron. Buy\xFAruldu) = the written order of a Governor.

[FN#348]  "Al-Yamaklak" = vivers, provaunt; from the T. "Yamak" =
food, a meal.

[FN#349]  Meaning that he waived his right to it.

[FN#350]  In text "Zaw\xE1dah" (gen. "Azw\xE1d" or "Azwi'dah") =
provisions, viaticum.

[FN#351]  In text "Takhtraw\xFAn"; see vols. ii. 180; v. 175.  In
the Cotheal MS. it is a "Haudaj" = camel-litter (vol. viii. 235).

[FN#352]  "Kubbat al-'As\xE1f\xEDr," now represented by the "Khan
al-As\xE1f\xEDr," on the road from Damascus to Palmyra, about four
hours' ride from and to the N. East of the B\xE1b T\xFAm\xE1 or N. Eastern
gate.  The name is found in Baedeker (p. 541).  IN the C. MS. it
becomes the "Than\xEDyyat al-'Uk\xE1b" = the Vulture's Pass.

[FN#353]  Meaning that Attaf had not the heart to see his
cousin-wife leave her home.

[FN#354]  Written in Turkish fashion with the J\xEDm (j) and three
dots instead of one.  This Persian letter is still preserved in
the Arabic alphabets of Marocco, Algiers, etc.

[FN#355]  In Arab.  "Jinn" = spirit or energy of a man, which
here corresponds with the Heb. "Aub"; so in the Hamasah the poet
says, "My Jinn have not fled; my life is not blunted; my birds
never drooped for fear," where, say commentators, the Arabs
compare an energetic man with a Jinn\xED or Shayt\xE1n.  So the Prophet
declared of Omar, "I never saw such an 'Abkar\xED amongst men,"
'Abkar, in Yam\xE1mah, like Yabr\xEDn and Wab\xE1r near Al-Yaman, being a
desolate region, the home of wicked races destroyed by Allah and
now haunted by gruesome hosts of non-human nature.  Chenery, pp.

[FN#356]  In the C. MS. it is an Emir of the Emirs.

[FN#357]  Arab. "T\xE1bah."

[FN#358]  This excellent episode is omitted in the C. MS. where
Attaf simply breaks gaol and reaching Aleppo joins a caravan to

[FN#359]  In text "Katal\xFA-n\xED": see vols. v. 5; vi. 171.

[FN#360]  In the C. MS. he enters a mosque and finds a Ja'\xEDd\xED
(vagabond) who opens his bag and draws out a loaf, a roast food,
lemons, olives, cucumbers and date-cake, which suggest to Attaf,
who had not eaten such things for a month, "the table of Is\xE1 bin
Maryam."  For the rest see Mr. Cotheal's version.

[FN#361]  The C. MS. gives the short note in full.

[FN#362]  In text "al-Tow\xE1b," Arab. plur. of the Persian and
Turk.  "Top."  We hardly expected to find ordinance in the age of
Harun al-Rashid, although according to Milton they date before
the days of Adam.

[FN#363]  M. Houdas would read for "Alhy Tys" in the text "Tuh\xE1
Tays" a general feast; "Tuh\xE1" = cooked meat and "Tays" = myriads

[FN#364]  M. Houdas translates les injures devanc\xE8rent les
compliments, an idiom = he did not succeed in his design.

[FN#365]  "Cousin" being more polite than "wife": see vols. vi.
145; ix. 225.

[FN#366]  Les vert\xE8bres ont fait bourrelet, says M. Houdas who
adds that "Shakb\xE1n" is the end of a cloth, gown, or cloak, which
is thrown over the shoulders and serves, like the "Jayb" in
front, to carry small parcels, herbs, etc.

[FN#367]  In the local Min jargon, the language of Fellahs,
"Add\xEDki" = I will give thee.

[FN#368]  In text "Min al-'\xC1n wa s\xE1'idan;" lit. = from this
moment upwards.

[FN#369]  "Tarajjum" taking refuge from Satan the Stone (Raj\xEDm).
See vol. iv. 242.

[FN#370]  i.e. a descenant of Al-H\xE1shim, great-grandfather of the
Prophet.  See ix. 24.

[FN#371]  In text "Shob\xE1si," for "Sob\xE1sh\xED" which M. Houdas
translates pr\xE9v\xF4t du Palais.

[FN#372]  In the C. MS. Attaf's head was to be cut off.

[FN#373]  In the C. MS. the anagnorisis is much more detailed.
Ja'afar asks Attaf if he knew a Damascus-man Attaf hight and so
forth; and lastly an old man comes forward and confesses to have
slain the Shar\xEDf or H\xE1shimi.

[FN#374]  The drink before the meal, as is still the custom in
Syria and Egypt.  See vol. vii. 132.

[FN#375]  Gauttier (vii. 256), illustrating the sudden rise of
low-caste and uneducated men to high degree, quotes a
contemporary celebrity, the famous Mirza Mohammed Husayn Khan
who, originally a Bakk\xE1l or greengrocer, was made premier of Fath
Ali Shah's brilliant court, the last bright flash of Iranian
splendour and autocracy.  But Ir\xE1n is a land upon which Nature
has inscribed "Resurgam"; and despite her present abnormal
position between two vast overshadowing empires--British India
and Russia in Asia--she has still a part to play in history.  And
I may again note that Al-Islam is based upon the fundamental idea
of a Republic which is, all (free) men are equal, and the lowest
may aspire to the highest dignity.

[FN#376]  In text "'Aramram\xED."

[FN#377]  "Wa'll\xE1ha 'l-Muwaffiku 'l-Mu'in" = God prospereth and
directeth, a formula often prefixed or suffixed to a book.

[FN#378] MS. pp. 628-685. Gauttier, vii. 64-90; Histoire du
Prince Habib et de la Princesse Dorrat-el-Gawas. The English
translation dubs it "Story of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the
Arabian Knight" (vol. iii. 219-89); and thus degrades the high
sounding name to a fair echo of Dorothy Goose. The name = Pearl
of the Diver: it is also the P.N. of a treatise on desinental
syntax by the grammarian-poet Al-Hariri (Chenery, p. 539).

[FN#379] The "Ban\xFA Hil\xE1l," a famous tribe which formed part of a
confederation against the Prophet on his expedition to Honayn.
See Tabari, vol. iii. chapt. 32, and Doughty, Arabia Deserta
(Index, B. Helal). In the text we have the vulgarism "Ban\xED" for

[FN#380] Gauttier (vii. 64) clean omits the former Emir because
he has nothing to do with the tale. In Heron it is the same, and
the second chief is named "Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis"; or for
shortness tout bonnement "Salamis"; and his wife becoming Am\xEDrala
which, if it mean anything, is = Colonel, or Captain R. N.

[FN#381] ie. Moon of the Nobles.

[FN#382] = the Beloved, le bien-aim\xE9.

[FN#383] As has been seen Gauttier reduces the title to "Prince."
Amongst Arabs, however, it is not only a name proper but may
denote any dignity from a Shaykh to a Sultan rightly so termed.

[FN#384] For the seven handwritings see vol. iv. 196. The old
English version says, "He learned the art of writing with pens
cut in seven different ways." To give an idea of the style it
renders the quatrain:--"Father," said the youth, "you must apply
to my master, to give you the information you desire. As for me,
I must long be all eye and all ear. I must learn to use my hand,
before I begin to exercise my tongue, and to write my letters as
pure as pearls from the water." And this is translation!

[FN#385] I need hardly note that "Voices from the other world"
are a lieu commun of so-called Spiritualism. See also vol. i. 142
and Suppl. Vol. iii.

[FN#386] This tale and most of those in the MS. affect the K\xE11a
\x91l-R\xE1w\xED (= quoth the reciter) showing the true use of them. See
Terminal Essay, vol. x. 144.

[FN#387] The missing apodosis would be, "You would understand the
cause of my weeping."

[FN#388] In the text there are only five lines. I have borrowed
the sixth from the prose.

[FN#389] "D\xE1\xFAd" = David: see vols. ii. 286; vi. 113.

[FN#390] For "Samhar\xED" see vol. iv. 258.

[FN#391] From "Rudaynah," either a woman or a place: see vols.
ii. 1; vii. 265; and for "Khatt Hajar" vol. ii. 1.

[FN#392] This is the idiomatic meaning of the Arab word "Niz\xE1l" =
dismounting to fight on foot.

[FN#393] In the text "Aky\xE1l," plur. of "Kayl" = Kings of the
Himyarite peoples. See vol. vii. 60; here it is = the hero, the

[FN#394] An intensive word, "on the weight," as the Arabs say of
'Abb\xE1s (stern-faced) and meaning "Very stern-faced, austere,
grim." In the older translations it becomes "Il Haboul"--utterly

[FN#395] The Arab. "Moon of the Time" becomes in the olden
versions "Camaulzaman," which means, if anything, "Complete
Time," and she is the daughter of a Jinn-King "Illabousatrous
(Al-'Atr\xFAs?)." He married her to a potent monarch named
"Shah-Goase" (Shah Ghaww\xE1s=King Diver), in this version "S\xE1b\xFAr"
(Shahpur), and by him Kamar Al-Zaman became the mother of Durrat

[FN#396] In text "S\xE1d\xE1t wa Ashr\xE1f:" for the technical meaning of
"Sayyid" and "Sharif" see vols. iv. 170; v. 259.

[FN#397] Gauttier, vii. 71. Les Isles Bellour. see vol. iii. 194.

[FN#398] Heron's "Illabousatrous"(?).

[FN#399] In text "Zayjah," from Pers. "Z\xE1ycheh" = lit. a
horoscope, a table for calculating nativities and so forth. In
page 682 of the MS. the word is used = marriage-lines.

[FN#400] In text "Sns\xE1l," for "Sals\xE1l " = lit. chain.

[FN#401] In Sindbad the Seaman I have shown that riding men as
asses is a facetious exaggeration of an African practice, the
Minister being generally the beast of burden for the King. It was
the same in the Maldive Islands. "As soon as the lord desires to
land, one of the rhief Catibes (Arab. Khat\xEDb = a preacher, not
K\xE1tib = a writer) comes forward to offer his shoulder (a function
much esteemed) and the other gets upon his shoulders; and so,
with a leg on each side, he rides him horse fashion to land, and
is there set down." See p. 71, "The Voyage of Fran\xE7ois Pyrard,"
etc. The volume is unusually well edited by Mr. Albert Gray,
formerly of the Ceylon Civil Service, for the Hakluyt Society,
MDCCCLXXXVII: it is, however, regretable that he and Mr. Bell,
his collaborateur, did not trace out the Maldive words to their
"Aryan" origin showing their relationship to vulgar Hindostani as
Mas to Machh\xED (fish) from the Sanskrit Matsya.

[FN#402] In text "Ghayth al-H\xE1t\xEDl = incessant rain of small drops
and widely dispread. In Arab. the names for clouds, rain and all
such matters important to a pastoral race are well nigh
innumerable. Poetry has seized upon the material terms and has
converted them into a host of metaphors; for "the genius of the
Arabic language, like that of the Hebrew, is to form new ideas by
giving a metaphorical signification to material objects (e.g.
'Azud, lit. the upper arm; met. a helper)." Chenery, p. 380.

[FN#403] In the text "To the palace:" the scribe, apparently
forgetting that he is describing Badawi life, lapses at times
into "decorating the capital" and "adorning the mansion," as if
treating of the normal city-life. I have not followed his

[FN#404] Heron translates "A massy cuirass of Haoudi."

[FN#405] In text, "Inbasata 'l-Layl al-As\xE1," which M. Houdas
renders et s'\xE9tendit la nuit (m\xE8re) de la tristesse.

[FN#406] "Rauzah" in Algiers is a royal park; also a prairie, as
"Rauz al-San\xE1jirah," plain of the Sinjars: Ibn Khaldun, ii. 448.

[FN#407] The "Misk\xE1l" (for which see vols. i. 126; ix. 262) is
the weight of a dinar = 1\xBD dirham = 71-72 grains avoir. A dose of
142 grains would kill a camel. In 1848, when we were marching up
the Indus Valley under Sir Charles Napier to attack N\xE1o Mall of
Multan, the Sind Camel Corps was expected to march at the rate of
some 50 miles a day, and this was done by making the animals more
than half drunk with Bhang or Indian hemp.

[FN#408] In text, "Yakhat," probably clerical error for
"Yakhbut," lit. = he was panting in a state of unconsciousness:
see Dozy, Suppl. s. v.

[FN#409] In text "Al-D\xE1n, which is I presume a clerical error for
"Al-Uzn" = ear. ["D\xE1n," with the dual "D\xE1nayn," and "Wudn," with
the plural "Aud\xE1n," are popular forms for the literary "Uzn."-

[FN#410] This name has occurred in MS. p. 655, but it is a mere
nonentity until p. 657--the normal incuriousness. Heron dubs him

[FN#411] In the text "Zimmat" = obligation, protection,

[FN#412] "Sahha 'alakah" (=a something) "f\xED haz\xE1 'l-Amri." The
first word appears de trop being enclosed in brackets in the MS.

[FN#413] "Wa yabk\xED \x91alaykum Mab\xE1lu-h." [For "Mab\xE1l" I would read
"Wab\xE1l," in the sense of crime or punishment, and translate:
"lest the guilt of it rest upon you."--ST.)

[FN#414] In the text "Suwayd\xE1" literally "a small and blackish
woman"; and "Suwayd\xE1 al-Kalb" (the black one of the heart) =
original sin, as we should say. [The diminutive of "Sayyid" would
be "Suwayyid," as "Kuwayyis" from "Kayyis," and "Juwayyid" from
"Jayyid" (comp. supra p. 3). "Suwayd" and "Suwayd\xE1" are
diminutives of "Aswad," black, and its fem. "Saud\xE1" respectively,
meaning blackish. The former occurs in "Umm al-Suwayd" = anus.
"Suwayd\xE1 al-Kalb" = the blackish drop of clotted blood in the
heart, is synonymous with "Habbat al-Kalb" = the grain in the
heart, and corresponds to our core of the heart. Metaphorically
both are used for "original sin."--ST.]

[FN#415] "Y\xE1kah Thiy\xE1bish;" the former word being Turkish (M.

[FN#416] Arab. "Kaunayn" = the two entities, this world and the
other world, the past and the future, etc. Here it is opposed to
"'A'lam\xEDna," here \x91Aw\xE1lim = the (three) worlds, for which see
vol. ii. 236.

[FN#417] In text "Changul," again written with a three-dotted

[FN#418] In text "Al-Mazrab" which M. Houdas translates cet

[FN#419] In text "Yabahh" = saying "Bah, Bah!"

[FN#420] In text "Bahr al-Azrak" = the Blue Sea, commonly applied
to the Mediterranean: the origin of the epithet is readily
understood by one who has seen the Atlantic or the Black Sea.

[FN#421] i.e. "The Stubborn," "The Obstinate."

[FN#422] In text "Al-Jaw\xE1dit," where M. Houdas would read
"Al-Haw\xE1dith" which he renders by animaux fra\xEEchement tu\xE9s.

[FN#423] In the text "Kabad" = the liver, the sky-vault, the
handle or grasp of a bow.

[FN#424] In the text "M\xEDn\xE1" = a port both in old Egyptian and
mod. Persian: see "Mitrahinna," vol. ii. 257.

[FN#425] "Al-Nak\xE1\xEDr," plur. of "Nak\xEDr" = a dinghy, a dug-out.

[FN#426] For this "P\xE1-and\xE1z," as the Persians call it, see vol.
iii. 141.

[FN#427] In text "Kataba Zayjata-h\xE1," the word has before been

[FN#428] Again "Hiz\xE0 bi-Zayjati-h\xE1" = le bonheur de ses

[FN#429] This impalement ("Salb," which elsewhere means
crucifying, vol. iii. 25) may be a barbarous punishment but it is
highly cffective, which after all is its principal object. Old
Mohammed Ali of Egypt never could have subjugated and disciplined
the ferocious Badawi of Al-Asir, the Ophir region South of
Al-Hij\xE1z, without the free use of the stake. The banditti dared
to die but they could not endure the idea of their bodies being
torn to pieces and devoured by birds and beasts. The stake
commonly called "Kh\xE1z\xFAk", is a stout pole pointed at one end, and
the criminal being thrown upon his belly is held firm whilst the
end is passed up his fundament. His legs and body are then lashed
to it and it is raised by degrees and planted in a hole already
dug, an agonising part of the process. If the operation be
performed by an expert who avoids injuring any mortal part, the
wretch may live for three days suffering the pangs of thirst; but
a drink of water causes hemorrhage and instant death. This was
the case with the young Moslem student who murdered the excellent
Marshal Kleber in the garden attached to Shepherd's Hotel, Cairo,
wherein, by the by, he suffered for his patriotic crime. Death as
in crucifixion is brought on by cramps and nervous exhaustion,
for which see Canon Farrar (Life of Christ, ii. 392 et seqq.).

[FN#430] Archaeological Review, July, 1888, pp. 331-342.

[FN#431] The proper names are overrun with accents and
diaeretical points, of which I have here retained but few.

[FN#432] Particularly mentioning Syntipas, the Forty Vizirs, a
Turkish romance relating to Alexander, in 120 volumes; and
Mohammed al-'Aufi.

[FN#433] Probably similar to those described in the story of the
Warlock and the Cook (ante\xE0, pp. 106-112)

[FN#434] The last clause is very short and obscure in the French
"qu'il n'a pas son satire," but what follows shows the real
meaning to be that given above. (W. F. K.)

[FN#435] This I take to be the meaning of the words, "une autre
monde sous la terre par sept fois." (W.F.K.)

[FN#436] Galland writes "on fait un jeu de Giret (tournoi), etc."
(W. F. K.)

[FN#437] Perhaps an error of Galland's. (W. F. K.)

[FN#438] I do not know the German edition referred to.

[FN#439] This great class of tales is quite as widely extended in
the north of Europe and Asia, as in the south. We meet with them
in Siberia, and they are particularly common in Lapland I
believe, too, that the Indian story of the Red Swan (referred to
by Longfellow, Hiawatha xii.) is only a Swan Maiden legend in a
rather modified form. As usual, we find a bizarre form of the
Swan Maiden story among the Samoghitians of Lithuania. The Zemyne
is a one eyed venomous snake, with black blood which cures all
diseases and neutralises all magic. It is an enchanted maiden;
and sometimes the skin has been stolen, and she has reamed a man.
But if she recovers her skin, she resumes her snake-form, and
bites and kills her husband and children. Many other strange
things are related of the Zemyne (Veckenstedt, Mythen, Sagen, und
Legenden der Zamaiten, ii., pp. 149-152).]

[FN#440] About twenty pounds.

[FN#441] Spitta Bey (p. 27 note) suggests that this is a
reminiscence of the ancient Egyptian idea of the Scarab\xE6us which
typifies life.

[FN#442] Southey, in his story of the Young Dragon, relates how
Satan, disapproving of the rapid conversion of the inhabitants of
Antioch to Christianity, laid an egg, and hatched out a dragon,
which he sent to destroy the inhabitants. But a Pagan whose
Christian daughter was devoted to the dragon by lot, stole the
thumb from a relic (the hand of John the Baptist), as he
pretended to kiss it, and cast it into the mouth of the dragon,
and blew him up.

[FN#443] This is a variant of the Nose-Tree; I do not remember
another in genuine Oriental literature (cf. Nights, x., app., p.

[FN#444] How small the world becomes in this story!

[FN#445] It is evident that a young she-bear is all that is

[FN#446]These Vigilants and Purifiers, with that hypocritical
severity which ever makes the worst sinner in private the most
rigorous judge in public, lately had the imprudent impudence to
summons a publisher who had reprinted the Decameron with the
"objectionable passages" in French. Mr. Alderman Faudell Phillips
had the good sense contemptuously to dismiss the summons.
Englishmen are no longer what they were if they continue to
tolerate this Ignoble espionnage of Vicious and prurient virtuous
"Associations." If they mean real work why do they commence by
condemning scholar-like works, instead of cleansing the many foul
cesspools of active vice which are a public disgrace to London.

[FN#447] It may serve the home-artist and the home-reader to
point out a few of the most erroneous The harp (i. 143) is the
Irish and not the Eastern, yet the latter has been shown In i.
228; and the "K\xE1n\xFAn " (ii. 77) is a reproduction from Lane's
Modern Egyptians. The various Jinn\xEDs are fanciful, not
traditional, as they should be (see inter alia Doughty's Arabia
Deserta, ii. 3, etc.). In i. 81 and ii. 622 appears a specimen
bogie with shaven chin and "droopers" by way of beard and
mustachios: mostly they have bestial or simiad countenances with
rabbits' ears, goats' horns and so forth (i. 166, 169; ii. 97,
100), instead of faces more or less human and eyes disposed
perpendicularly. The spreading yew-tree (i. 209) is utterly
misplaced. In many the action is excessive, after the fashion of
the Illustrateds (i. 281, 356, 410 and 565; ii. 366, 374). The
scymitar and the knife, held in the left hand or slung by the
left flank, are wholly out of order (i. 407 ii.281,374; iii.460)
and in iii. 355, the blade is wider than the wielder's waist. In
i. 374 the astrolabe is also held in the left hand. The features
are classical as those of Arsino\xEB, certainly not Egyptian, in i.
15; i. 479 and passim. The beggar-women must not wander with
faces bare and lacking "nose-bags" as in i. 512. The Shah (i.
523) wears modern overalls strapped down over dress-bottines:
Moreover he holds a straight-bladed European court-sword, which
is correct in i. 527. The spears (i. 531) are European not
Asiatic, much less Arabian, whose beams are often 12-15 feet
long. Az\xEDz (i. 537) has no right to tricot drawers and shoes
tightened over the instep like the chaussure of European
moutards: his foot (i. 540) is wholly out of drawing, like his
hand, and the toes are European distortions. The lady writing (i.
581) lacks all local colour; she should sit at squat, support the
paper in the hollow of her left instead of using a portfolio, and
with her right ply the reed or "pen of brass." In vol. ii. 57 the
lion is an absurdum, big as a cow or a camel, and the same
caricature of the King of Beasts occurs elsewhere (i. 531; ii.
557 and iii. 250). The Wazir (ii. 105) wears the striped caftan
of a Cairene scribe or shopkeeper. The two birds (ii. 140) which
are intended for hawks (see ii. 130) have the compact tails and
the rounded-off wings of pigeons. I should pity Amjad and As'ad
if packed into a "bullock trunk" like that borne by the mule in
ii. 156. The Jew's daughter (ii. 185) and the Wali of Bulak (ii.
504) carry European candlesticks much improved in ii. 624. The
Persian leach (ii. 195) is habited most unlike an 'Ajami, while
the costume is correct in ii. 275. The Badawi mounts (ii. 263) an
impossible Arab with mane and tail like the barb's in pictures.
The street-dogs (ii. 265), a notable race, become European curs
of low degree. The massage of the galleys (ii. 305) would suit a
modern racing-yacht. Utterly out of place are the women's
costumes such as the Badawi maidens (ii. 335), Rose-in Hood (ii.
565), and the girl of the Ban\xFA Odhrah (iii.250), while the Lady
Zubaydah (ii. 369) is coiffee with a European coronet. The
sea-going ship (ii. 615) is a Dahabiyah fit only for the Nile.
The banana-trees (ii. 621) tower at least 80 feet tall and the
palms and cocoa-nut trees (ii. 334; iii. 60) are indicated only
by their foliage, not by their characteristic boles. The box (ii.
624) is European and modern: in the Eastern "Sakhkh\xE1rah" the lid
fits into the top, thus saving it from the "baggage-smasher." In
iii. 76, the elephant, single-handed, uproots a tree rivalling a
century-old English oak. The camel-saddle (iii. 247) is neither
Eastern nor possible for the rider, but it presently improves
(iii. 424 and elsewhere). The emerging of the Merfolk (iii. 262)
is a "tableau," a transformation-scene of the transpontine
pantomime, and equally theatrical is the attitude of wicked Queen
L\xE1b (iii. 298), while the Jinni, snatching away Daulat Khatun
(iii.341), seems to be waltzing with her in horizontal position.
A sun-parasol, not a huge Oriental umbrella, is held over the
King's head (iii. 377). The tail-piece, the characteristic Sphinx
(iii. 383), is as badly drawn as it well can be, a vile
caricature. Khal\xEDfah the Fisherman wears an English night-gown
(iii. 558) with the side-locks of a Polish Jew (iii. 564). The
dancing- girl (iii. 660) is equally reprehensible in form,
costume and attitude, and lastly, the Fellah ploughing (iii. 700)
should wear a felt skull-cap instead of a turband, be stripped to
the waist and retain nothing but a rag around the middle.

I have carefully noted these lapses and incongruities: not the
less, however, I thoroughly appreciate the general excellence of
the workmanship, and especially the imaginative scenery and the
architectural designs of Mr. W. Harvey. He has shown the world
how a work of the kind should be illustrated, and those who would
surpass him have only to avoid the minor details here noticed.

[FN#448] See in M. Zotenberg's "Ala al-Din" the text generally;
also p. 14.

[FN#449] Mr. Payne, in his Essay, vol. ix., 281, computes less
than two hundred tales in all omitting the numerous incidentals;
and he notices that the number corresponds with the sum of the
"Night-stories" attributed to the Haz\xE1r Afs\xE1n by the learned
author of the "Fihrist" (see Terminal Essay, vol. x. pp. 70). In
p. 367 (ibid.) he assumes the total at 264.

[FN#450] This parlous personage thought proper to fall foul of me
(wholly unprovoked) in the Athenaeum of August 25, '88. I give
his production in full:--

                  Lord Stratford De Redcliffe.

August 18, 1888.

In the notice of Sir R. Burton's "Life" in to-day's Athen\xE6um it
is mentioned that his biographer says that Capt. Burton proposed
to march with his Bashi-bazuks to the relief of Kars, but was
frustrated by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, who, according to Sir
Richard, "gained a prodigious reputation in Europe, chiefly by
living out of it."

This is a strange inversion of facts. The proposal to relieve
Kars by way of Redoutkal\xE9 and Kutais originated, not with Capt.
Burton, but with the Turkish Seraskier, who recommended for this
purpose the employment of Vivian's Turkish Contingent and part of
Beatson's Horse ("his Bashi-bazuks"), in which Capt. Burton held
a staff appointment. In the last days of June, 1855, General
Mansfield, Lord Stratford's military adviser, was in constant
communication on this subject with the Turkish Ministers, and the
details of the expedition were completely arranged to the
satisfaction of military opinion, both British and Turkish, at
Constantinople. Lord Stratford officially recommended the plan to
his Government, and in his private letters to the Foreign
Secretary strongly urged it upon him and expressed a sanguine
hope of its success. But on July 14th, Lord Clarendon
telegraphed: "The plan for reinforcing the army at Kars contained
in your despatches of 30th June and 1st inst. is disapproved."
Lord Panmure really "frustrated" the Turkish plan; Lord Stratford
never "frustrated" any attempt to succour the Army of Asia, but,
contrariwise, did all in his power to forward the object.

As to the amiable reference to the Great Elchi's reputation, no
one knows better than Sir R. Burton by what queer methods
reputations may be annexed, but it is strange that anyone with
the reputation of a traveller should consider Constantinople to
be "out of Europe."

S. Lane-Poole.

The following was my reply:--

       Lord Stratford De Redcliffe and Mr. S. Lane-Poole.

London, Aug. 26, 1888.

Will you kindly spare me space for a few lines touching matters

I am again the victim (Athen\xE6um, August 25) of that everlasting
r\xE9clame. Mr. S. Lane-Poole has contracted to "do" a life of Lord
Stratford, and, ergo, he condemns me in magistral tone and a
style of uncalled-for impertinence, to act as his "advt." In
relating how, by order of the late General Beatson, then
commanding Bash-buzuk (Bashi-bazuk is the advertiser's own
property), I volunteered to relieve Cars, how I laid the project
before the "Great Eltchee," how it was received with the roughest
language and how my first plan was thoroughly "frustrated." I
have told a true tale, and no more. "A strange perversion of
facts," cries the sapient criticaster, with that normal amenity
which has won for him such honour and troops of unfriends: when
his name was proposed as secretary to the R. A. S., all
prophesied the speediest dissolution of that infirm body.

I am aware that Constantinople is not geographically "out of
Europe." But when Mr. S. Lane-Poole shall have travelled a trifle
more he may learn that ethnologically it is. In fact, most of
South-Eastern Europe holds itself more or less non-European, and
when a Montenegrin marries a Frenchwoman or a German, his family
will tell you that he has wedded a "European."

"No one knows better than Sir R. Burton by what queer methods
reputation may be annexed." Heavens, what English! And what may
the man mean? But perhaps he alludes in his own silly, saltless,
sneering way to my Thousand Nights and a Night, which has shown
what the "Uncle and Master's" work should have been. Some two
generations of poules mouill\xE9es have reprinted and republished
Lane's "Arabian Notes" without having the simple honesty to
correct a single b\xE9vue, or to abate one blunder; while they
looked upon the Arabian Nights as their own especial rotten
borough. But more of this in my tractate, "The Reviewer
Reviewed," about to be printed as an appendix to my Supplemental
Volume, No. vi.

Richard F. Burton.

And here is the rejoinder (Athen\xE6um, September 8):--

               Lord Stratford and Sir R. Burton.

September 4, 1888.

Sir R. Burton, like a prominent Irish politician, apparently
prefers to select his own venue, and, in order to answer my
letter in the Athen\xE6um of August 25, permits himself in the
Academy of September 1 an exuberance of language which can injure
no one but himself. Disregarding personalities, I observe that he
advances no single fact in support of the statements which I
contradicted, but merely reiterates them. It is a question
between documents and Sir R. Burton's word.

S. Lane-Poole.

It is not a question between documents and my word, but rather of
the use or abuse of documents by the "biographer." My
volunteering for the relief of Kars was known to the whole camp
at the Dardanelles, and my visit to the Embassy at Constantinople
is also a matter of "documents." And when Mr. S. Lane-Poole shall
have produced his I will produce mine.

[FN#451] It appears to me that our measures, remedial and
punitive, against "pornographic publications" result mainly in
creating "vested interests" (that English abomination) and thus
in fostering the work. The French printer, who now must give name
and address, stamps upon the cover Avis aux Libraires under
Edition privee and adds Ce volume ne doit pas etre mis en vente
ou expose dans les lieux publics (Loi du 29 Juillet, 1881). He
also prints upon the back the number of copies for sale We treat
"pornology" as we handle prostitution, unwisely ignore it, well
knowing the while that it is a natural and universal demand of
civilised humanity; and whereas continental peoples regulate it
and limit its abuses we pass it by, Pharisee-like, with nez
en-l'air. Our laws upon the subject are made only to be broken,
and the authorities are unwilling to persecute, because by so
doing they advertise what they condemn. Thus they offer a premium
to the greedy and unscrupulous publisher and immensely enhance
the value of productions ("Fanny Hill" by Richard Cleland for
instance) which, if allowed free publication, would fetch pence
instead of pounds. With due diffidence, I suggest that the police
be directed to remove from booksellers' windows and to confiscate
all indecent pictures, prints and photographs; I would forbid
them under penalty of heavy fines to expose immoral books for
sale, and I would leave "cheap and nasty" literature to the good
taste of the publisher and the public. Thus we should also abate
the scandal of providing the secretaries and officers of the
various anti-vice societies with libraries of pornological works
which, supposed to be escheated or burned, find their way into
the virtuous hands of those who are supposed to destroy them.

[FN#452] "Quand aux manuscrits de la r\xE9daction \xE9gyptienne,
l'omission de cet \xE9pisode parait devoir \xEAtre attribu\xE9e \xE0 la
tendance qui les caract\xE9rise g\xE9neralement, d'abr\xE9ger et de
condenser la narrative " (loc. cit. p. 7: see also p. 14).

[FN#453] Here I would by no means assert that the subject matter
of The Nights is exhausted: much has been left for future
labourers. It would be easy indeed to add another five volumes to
my sixteen as every complete manuscript contains more or less of
novelty. Dr. Pertsch, the learned librarian of Saxe-Gotha,
informs me that no less than two volumes are taken up by a
variant of Judar the Egyptian (in my vol. vi. 213) and by the
History of Zahir and Ali. For the Turkish version in the
Biblioth\xE8que Nationale see M. Zotenberg (pp. 21-23). The Rich MS.
in the British Museum abounds in novelties, of which a specimen
was given in my Prospectus to the Supplemental Volumes.

In the French Scholar's "Al\xE2 al-D\xEEn" (p. 45) we find the MSS. of
The Nights divided into three groups. No. i. or the Asian (a
total of ten specified) are mostly incomplete and usually end
before the half of the text. The second is the Egyptian of modern
date, characterised by an especial style and condensed narration
and by the nature and ordinance of the tales, by the number of
fables and historiettes, and generally by the long chivalrous
Romance of Omar bin al-Nu'um\xE1n. The third group, also Egyptian,
differs only in the distribution of the stories.]

[FN#454] My late friend, who brought home 3,000 copies of
inscriptions from the so-called Sinai which I would term in
ancient days the Peninsula of Paran. and in our times the
Peninsula of Tor.

[FN#455] See M. Zotenberg, pp. 4, 26.

[FN#456] M. Zotenberg (p. 5) wrote la seconde moitie du xive.
Si\xE8cle, but he informed me that he has found reason to antedate
the text.

[FN#457] I regret the necessity of exposing such incompetence and
errors which at the time when Lane wrote were venial enough; his
foolish friend, however, by unskilful and exaggerated pretensions
and encomiums, compels me to lay the case before the reader.

[FN#458] This past tense, suggesting that an act is complete, has
a present sense in Arabic and must be translated accordingly.

[FN#459] Quite untrue: the critic as usual never read and
probably never saw the subject of his criticism. In this case I
may invert one of my mottoes and write, "To the foul all things"

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