This is a modern-English version of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night — Volume 16, originally written by unknown author(s).
It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling,
and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.
Scroll to the bottom of this page and you will find a free ePUB download link for this book.
SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS TO THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS WITH NOTES ANTHROPOLOGICAL AND EXPLANATORY
By Richard F. Burton
VOLUME SIX
Privately Printed By The Burton Club
I Inscribe This Final Volume
I Write This Final Volume
to
to
The Many Excellent Friends
The Great Friends
who lent me their valuable aid in copying
who helped me out by copying
and annotating
and commenting
The Thousand Nights and a Night
Arabian Nights
CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Original Table of 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
Appendix
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
1. The Sayings of Haykar the Sage
2. The Story of Al-Bundukani or, The Caliph Harun Al-Rashid
and the Daughter of King Kisra
3. The Linguist Lady, the Governess, and the King's Son
4. The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook from Baghdad
5. The Entertaining Story of the Rooster and the Fox
6. The Story of What Happened to the Bird with the Birdcatcher
7. The Tale of Attaf
The Tale of Attaf by Alexander J. Cotheal
8. The Story of Prince Habib and What Happened to Him with the Lady
Durrat Al-Ghawwas
a. The Story of Durrat Al-Ghawwas
Appendix
Notes on the Stories in Volume XVI, by W. F. Kirby
Index of the Tales and Proper Names
Index of the Variants and Analogues
Index of the Notes by W. A. Clouston and W. F. Kirby
Alphabetical Table of Notes (Anthropological, etc.)
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).
This book is called "THE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS," a title that's become clichéd since it was used for its contents back in 1819 in Henry Weber's "Tales of the East" (Edinburgh, Ballantyne).
The original MS. was brought to France by Al-Káhin Diyánisiás Sháwísh, 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-Kadís Ithanásiús (St. Athanasius) in Rúmiyah 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 Sultán, King of Fransá in Bárís (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-Zamán (Night cclxxxi.- cccxxix.) and the following tales:—
The original manuscript was brought to France by Al-Káhin Diyánisiás Sháwísh, a Syrian priest from the Congregation of St. Basil, whose name has been changed to Dom Dennis (or Denys) Chavis. He was a student at the European College of Al-Kadís Ithanásiús (St. Athanasius) in Rúmiyah the Grand (Constantinople) and was invited by the Minister of State, Baron de Breteuil, to Paris, where he became the "Teacher of the Arabic Language at the College of the Sultan, King of France in Paris." He took it upon himself (likely to make up for the missing fourth volume of Galland's manuscript) to continue The Nights and personally wrote the last two leaves of the third volume, which ends with three instead of four couplets: thus he completed Kamar al-Zamán (Night cclxxxi.- cccxxix.) and the following tales:—
The History of the Sleeper and the Waker (Nights
cccxxx.-ccclxxix.).
The History of Warlock and the Cook (ccclxxx.-cd.).
The History of the Prisoner in the Bímáristán or Madhouse
(cd.-cdxxvii.).
The History of Ghánim the Thrall o' Love (cdxxviii.-cdlxxiv.).
The History of Zayn al-Asnám and the King of the Jánn
(cdlxxv.-cdxci.).
The History of Alaeddin (cdxcii.-dlxix.), and
The History of Ten Wazirs (dlxx.).
The History of the Sleeper and the Waker (Nights
330-379).
The History of Warlock and the Cook (380-400).
The History of the Prisoner in the Bímáristán or Madhouse
(400-427).
The History of Ghánim the Thrall of Love (428-474).
The History of Zayn al-Asnám and the King of the Jánn
(475-591).
The History of Alaeddin (592-669), and
The History of Ten Wazirs (670).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 Shubát (February), A.D. 1787. This is the MS. numbered Supplément Arabe, No. 1716.
The copy ends on folio 320, r in the middle of Night 631, and the date (which appears at the end of Night 427, folio 139) is Shubát (February), A.D. 1787. This is the manuscript numbered Supplément Arabe, No. 1716.
In Paris, Dom Chavis forgathered with M. Cazotte, a littérateur of the category "light," an ingénieux écrivain, 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 Fées, | ou | Collection choisie | des Contes des Fées, | et autres contes merveilleux, | ornés de figures. | Tome trente-huitiéme—(quarante-unième). | A Genève, | chez Bárde, Manget et Compagnie, | Imprimeurs-Libraires. | Et se trouve à Paris | Rue et Hôtel Serpente. | 1788-89, 8 1 . The half-title is Les Veilliées Persanes, and on the second title- page is Les Veilliées | 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. | Ornées de I2 belles gravures. | Tome premier (—quatrième) | à Genève, | chez Barde, Manget et Comp' | 1793. This 8vo2 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 Fées, published at Geneva from A.D. 1788 to 1793.
In Paris, Dom Chavis met up with M. Cazotte, a light-hearted writer known for his "gaiety, delicacy, wit, and Athenian elegance," and well recognized for his works like "Olivier," "Diable Amoureux," "The Lord Impromptu," and a parody of The Nights titled "The Thousand and One Fopperies." The two decided to team up, with the Syrian translating the Arabic into French, while the Parisian transformed the content to match "the style and taste of the day"; essentially creating an over-the-top imitation, a caricature, of Galland. The work was released, as noted by Mr. A. G. Ellis from the British Museum, who kindly sent me these notes, in Le Cabinet | des Fées, | ou | Collection choisie | des Contes des Fées, | et autres contes merveilleux, | ornés de figures. | Tome trente-huitiéme—(quarante-unième). | A Genève, | chez Bárde, Manget et Compagnie, | Imprimeurs-Libraires. | Et se trouve à Paris | Rue et Hôtel Serpente. | 1788-89, 8 1. The half-title is Les Veilliées Persanes, and on the second title page it says Les Veilliées | 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. | Ornées de I2 belles gravures. | Tome premier (—quatrième) | à Genève, | chez Barde, Manget et Comp' | 1793. This 8vo 2 has the shortened title, La Suite des mille et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, traduits par Dom Chavis et M. Cazotte. The work was printed with illustrations in Geneva and Paris, in 1788, and made up the last four volumes (xxxviii.-xli.) of the extensive collection, the Cabinet des Fées, published in Geneva from 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."
The following is a complete list of the stories, as it appears in the English translation, lengthily titled, "Arabian Tales; or, a Continuation of the Arabian Nights Entertainments. Consisting of Stories Related by the Sultana of the Indies to entertain her Husband and distract him from the consequences of a rash vow; Presenting a fascinating view of the Religion, Laws, Manners, Customs, Arts, and Literature of the Nations of the East, and Offering a wealth of delightful entertainment that fictional writings can provide. 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.3
2. The Power of Destiny, or, Story of the Journey of Giafar to
Damascus comprehending the Adventures of Chebib (Habíb) and
his family.
3. The Story of Halechalbé (Ali Chelebí) and the Unknown Lady;
or, the Bimaristan.
4. The Idiot; or, Story of Xailoun.4
5. The Adventures of Simustafa (="Sí" for Sídí "Mustafa") and
the Princess Ilsatilsone (Lizzat al-Lusún = Delight of
Tongues?).
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).5
24. Story of Habib and Dorathal-Goase (=Durrat al-Ghawwás the
Pearl of the Diver); or, the Arabian Knight.
25. Story of Illabousatrous (?) of Schal-Goase, and of
Camarilzaman.
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
Magician.
29. History of Halaiaddin ('Alá al-Din, Alaeddin, Aladdin),
Prince of Persia.
30. History of Yemaladdin (Jamál al-Dín), Prince of Great Katay.
31. History of Baha-Ildur, Prince of Cinigae.
32. History of Badrildinn (Badr al-Dín), Prince of Tartary.
33. History of the Amours of Maugraby with Auhata al-Kawakik ( =
Ukht al-Kawákib, Sister of the Planets), daughter of the
King of Egypt.
34. History of the Birth of Maugraby.
1. The Robber-Caliph; or, adventures of Haroun-Alraschid, with
the Princess of Persia and the beautiful Zutulbe.3
2. The Power of Destiny, or, the Story of Giafar's Journey to
Damascus, including the Adventures of Chebib (Habíb) and
his family.
3. The Story of Halechalbé (Ali Chelebí) and the Unknown Lady;
or, the Bimaristan.
4. The Idiot; or, the Story of Xailoun.4
5. The Adventures of Simustafa (="Sí" for Sídi "Mustafa") and
Princess Ilsatilsone (Lizzat al-Lusún = Delight of
Tongues?).
6. Adventures of Alibengiad, Sultan of Herat, and 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
additional tales).5
24. Story of Habib and Dorathal-Goase (=Durrat al-Ghawwás the
Pearl of the Diver); or, the Arabian Knight.
25. Story of Illabousatrous (?) of Schal-Goase, and of
Camarilzaman.
26. Story of the Lady with the Beautiful Hair.
27. The History of Habib and Dorathal-Goase; or, the Arabian
Knight continued.
28. History of Maugraby (Al Magnrabi=the Moor); or, the
Magician.
29. History of Halaiaddin ('Alá al-Din, Alaeddin, Aladdin),
Prince of Persia.
30. History of Yemaladdin (Jamál al-Dín), Prince of Great Katay.
31. History of Baha-Ildur, Prince of Cinigae.
32. History of Badrildinn (Badr al-Dín), Prince of Tartary.
33. History of Maugraby's Love Affairs with Auhata al-Kawakik ( =
Ukht al-Kawákib, Sister of the Planets), daughter of the
King of Egypt.
34. History of Maugraby's Birth.Of these thirty four only five (MS. iv., vi., vii., xxvii. and xxxii.) have not been found in the original Arabic.
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 "phænomena 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 (père, vol. viii., p. 40-46) declared the version éloignée du goût Orientale; yet he re-translated the tales from the original Arabic (Continués, 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."
Public opinion was very positive towards the "Suite" when it was first released. Orientalism was new to Europe at the time, and people were surprised by its novelties, such as "Women wearing drawers and pants like their husbands, and men dressed in loose robes like their wives, yet at the same time proudly sporting, like many goats, each a long beard." (Heron's Preface.) They found its "phenomena so different from the customs and manners of Europe that, when presented as part of the ordinary system of human affairs, they inevitably added a significant amount of amusing novelty to the characters and events with which they were associated." (Ditto, Preface.) Jonathan Scott boldly declared the continuation a forgery. Dr. Patrick Russell (History of Aleppo, vol. i. 385) had a poor opinion of it, and Caussin de Perceval (père, vol. viii., p. 40-46) stated that the version was far from Oriental taste; yet he re-translated the tales from the original Arabic (Continués, Paris, 1806), a move followed by Gauttier, while Southey took inspiration for his beautiful romance, "Thalaba the Destroyer," now in Lethe, from the "History of Maughraby." Mr. A. G. Ellis considers these tales to be just as good as the original "Arabian Nights," and my friend Mr. W. F. Kirby (Appendix to The Nights, vol. x. p. 418) fully agrees with him that Chavis and Cazotte's Continuation deserves to be republished in its entirety. It was left to the Edinburgh Review, in one of those ignorant and scurrilous articles that periodically offend truth and good taste (No. 535, July, 1886), to assert, "Cazotte published his Suite des Mille et une Nuits, a blatant forgery, in 1785." A blatant forgery! when the originals of twenty-eight out of thirty-four tales are well known, and many of these appear in manuscripts 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.
The following is a list of the Tales (very different from those of Chavis and Cazotte) that appeared in the version by Caussin de Perceval.
VOLUME VIII.
VOLUME 8.
Les | Mille et une Nuits | Contes Arabes, | Traduits en Francais | Par M. Galland, | Membre de l'Académie des Inscriptions et | Belles-Lettres, Professeur de Langue Arabe | au Collége Royal, | Continués | Par M. Caussin de Perceval, | Professeur de Langue Arabe au Collége Impérial. | Tome huitiéme. | à Paris, | chez Le Normant, Imp.-Libraire, | Rue des Prêtres Saint-Germain-l Auxerrois. | 1806.
Les | Mille et une Nuits | Arabian Tales, | Translated into French | By M. Galland, | Member of the Academy of Inscriptions and | Belles-Lettres, | Professor of Arabic Language | at the Royal College, | Continued | By M. Caussin de Perceval, | Professor of Arabic Language at the Imperial College. | Volume Eight. | in Paris, | published by Le Normant, Printer-Librarian, | Rue des Prêtres Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. | 1806.
1. Nouvelles aventures du calife Haroun Alraschid; ou histoire
de la petite fille de Chosroès 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 médécin 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 Soleïman-schah.
17. Histoire du de l'esclave sauve du supplice.
1. New adventures of Caliph Haroun Alraschid; or the story of the little girl of Chosroès Anouschirvan.
Gauttier, History of the Khalif of Baghdad: vol. vii. II7.)
2. The Bimaristan, or the story of the young merchant of Baghdad and the unknown lady.
3. The doctor and the young caterer of Baghdad.
4. Story of the Wise Hicar.
(Gauttier, History of the Wise Heycar, vii. 313.)
5. Story of King Azadbakht, or the ten Viziers.
6. Story of the merchant who became unfortunate.
7. Story of the imprudent man and his two children.
8. Story of Abousaber, or the patient man.
9. Story of Prince Behezad.
10. Story of King Dadbin, or the virtuous Aroua.
11. Story of Bakhtzeman.
12. Story of Khadidan.
13. Story of Beherkerd.
14. Story of Ilanschah and Abouteman.
15. Story of Ibrahim and his son.
16. Story of Soleïman-schah.
17. Story of the enslaved man saved from torture.
VOLUME IX.
18. Attaf ou l'homme généreux.
(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 îles 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.
VOLUME IX.
18. Attaf or the Generous Man.
(Gauttier, History of the Inhabitants of Damascus, vii. 234.)
19. Story of Prince Habib and Dorrat Algoase.
20. Story of King Sapor, ruler of the Bellour Islands; of Camar
Alzemann, daughter of the genie Alatrous, and Dorrat Algoase.
(Gauttier, vii. 64.)
21. Story of Naama and Naam.
22. Story of Alaeddin.
23. Story of Abu Mohammed Alkeslan.
24. Story of Aly Mohammed the Jeweler, or the False Caliph.I need hardly offer any observations upon these tales, as they have been discussed in the preceding pages.
I barely need to add any comments on these stories, since they have already been talked about in the earlier pages.
By an error of the late M. Reinaud (for which see p. 39 His toire d' 'Alâ al-Din by M. H. Zotenberg, Paris, Imprimerie Na tionale, MDCCCLXXXVIII.) the MS. Supplément 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. Préf. p. I7, et seqq.) It is labelled Histoires tirées la plupart des Mille et une Nuits | Supplément Arabe | Volume de 742 pages. The thick quarto measures centimètres 20 ½ 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 "karrás" 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 Sháwísh himself, which the well-known Arabist, Baron de Slane, described as Bonne écriture orientale de la fin du XVIII Siècle. The colophon conceals or omits the name of the scribe, but records the dates of incept Kánún IId. (the Syrian winter month January) A.D. 1772; and of conclusion Naysán (April) of the same year. It has head-lines disposed recto and verve, e.g.,
By an error of the late M. Reinaud (for more details see p. 39 of His toire d' 'Alâ al-Din by M. H. Zotenberg, Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, 1888), the MS. Supplément Arabe, No. 1716, written by Dom Chavis has been mixed up with No. 1723, which is not authored by the Syrian priest but contains the originals of the Cazotte Continuation, as noted by M. C. de Perceval (Les Mille et une Nuits, etc., vol. viii. Préf. p. 17, et seqq.). It is labeled Histoires tirées la plupart des Mille et une Nuits | Supplément Arabe | Volume of 742 pages. The thick quarto measures 20.5 cm long by 16 cm wide; the binding appears to be Italian, and the paper is European. The watermark, which comes in three varieties: a coronet, a lozenge-shaped bunch of circles, and a nondescript design, may be Venetian or French. It contains 765 pages, numbered in the European style, but the last eleven leaves are blank, bringing the total written pages down to 742; the final note, which includes the date, is on the last leaf. Each page has 15 lines, and each leaf has its catchword. It is not organized by "karrás" or quires but is written on 48 sets of 4 double leaves. The text is in a decent Syrian hand, but not as fluid as that of No. 1716, which was written by Sháwísh himself, and that the well-known Arabist, Baron de Slane, described as "Bonne écriture orientale de la fin du XVIII Siècle." The colophon does not reveal the name of the scribe but notes the starting date as Kánún II (the Syrian winter month of January) A.D. 1772, and the completion date as Naysán (April) of the same year. It has headers aligned recto and verso, e.g.,
Haykár —————————— Al-Hakím,
Haykár —————————— Al-Hakím,
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:—
and parentheses in the text after the European style with an incomplete list at the start. A full index is provided at the end. The following shows the order and page numbers of the fourteen stories:—
1. The King of Persia and his Ten Wazirs . . . . . .pp. 1 to 62 2. Say of the Sage Haykár. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .140 3. History of King Sabúr and the Three Wise Men. . . . . . .183 4. The Daughter of Kisrà the King (Al Bundukâni) . . . . . .217 5. The Caliph and the Three Kalandars. . . . . . . . . . . .266 6. Julnár 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 Bímárístan or Madhouse . . . . . . . . . .538 10. The Tale of Attáf the Syrian. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .588 11. The History of Sultan Habíb and Durrat al-Ghawwás . . . .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)
1. The King of Persia and His Ten Wazirs . . . . . .pp. 1 to 62 2. The Story of the Sage Haykár. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .140 3. The History of King Sabúr and the Three Wise Men. . . . . . .183 4. The Daughter of Kisrá the King (Al Bundukání) . . . . . .217 5. The Caliph and the Three Kalandars. . . . . . . . . . . .266 6. Julnár the Sea born . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .396 7. The Duenna, the Linguist-lady, and the King's Son. . . . .476 8. The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad . .505 9. The Man in the Bímárístan or Madhouse . . . . . . . . . .538 10. The Tale of Attáf the Syrian. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .588 11. The History of Sultan Habíb and Durrat al-Ghawwás . . . .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 observations. No. i. begins with a Christian formula:—"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost" (Rúhu'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 Haykár," 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 Sabbágh MS. of The Nights (see Suppl. vol. iii.) as the Histoire de Haroun al-Raschid et de la descendante de Chosroès. 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 Sí Mustafá and of Shaykh Shaháb al- Dín in the Turkish Tales: it also occurs in the Sabbágh MS. (Nights ccclxxxvi.-cdviii.). The Bímáristán (No. ix.), alias Ali Chalabi (Halechalbé), 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 Mahmúd, and his witch of a wife Sitt al-Mulúk, and it also introduces into the Court of the Great Caliph Hasan Shumán and Ahmad al-Danaf, the prominent personages in "The Rogueries of Dalílah" (vol. vii. 144) and its sister tale (vii. 172). The two last Histories, which are ingenious enough, also lack initial formulæ.
Upon these stories, I would like to offer a few comments. No. i. begins with a Christian phrase: "In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit" (Rúhu'l-Kudus); and it isn't translated, because it's just a copy of the Ten Wazirs (Suppl. vol. i. 55-151). The second one, featuring "The Sage Haykár," which is well-known in folk literature across the East, starts with the standard Muslim "Bismillah," etc. "King Sapor" starts with a Christian form that adds to the Trinitarian phrase, "Allah being One"; this, too, isn't translated because it repeats the "Ebony Horse" (vol. v. 1). No. iv., which begins with the Bismillah, can be found in the Sabbágh MS. of The Nights (see Suppl. vol. iii.) as the Histoire de Haroun al-Raschid et de la descendante de Chosroès. Albondoqani (Nights lxx.-lxxvii.). No. v., which also contains the Muslim invocation, is followed by "The Caliph and the Three Kalandars," where, like in our MS., the episodes (vol. i., 104-130) are taken directly from "The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad" (i. 82) and turned into a separate History. No. vi. has no title to translate, as it's a repeat of the long sea tale in vol. vii., 264. Nos. vii., viii., ix., x., and xi. do not have any introductory invocation that indicates a Christian or Muslim origin. No. viii. is the History of Sí Mustafá and Shaykh Shaháb al-Dín from the Turkish Tales: it also appears in the Sabbágh MS. (Nights ccclxxxvi.-cdviii.). The Bímáristán (No. ix.), also known as Ali Chalabi (Halechalbé), has already been mentioned in my Suppl. vol. iv. 35. No. xii., "The Caliph and the Fisherman," features Harun al-Rashid as the main character in "The Fisherman and the Jinni" (vol. i. 38); it names the enchanted King of the Black Islands Mahmúd, and his witchy wife Sitt al-Mulúk, also introducing into the Court of the Great Caliph Hasan Shumán and Ahmad al-Danaf, who are key figures in "The Rogueries of Dalílah" (vol. vii. 144) and its related tale (vii. 172). The last two Histories, which are quite clever, also lack initial formulas.
Dr. Russell (the historian of Aleppo) brought back with him a miscellaneous collection comprising—
Dr. Russell (the historian of Aleppo) brought back with him a varied collection consisting of—
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 (Azádbakht) and the Ten Wazirs; and, lastly,
Habib, or the Arabian Knight.
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 (Azádbakht) 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 Père 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.
The Encyclopedia Britannica (ninth edit. of 1876) omits the name of Professor Galland, one of the prominent Orientalists of his time, but it does acknowledge Jacques Cazotte, known for his varied life and noble death. Born in 1720 in Dijon, where his father was Chancellor for the Province of Burgundy, he studied with the Jesuits at home, and after finishing his education in Paris, he entered public life through the Administration de la Marine. He showed an early interest in both poetry and prose, composing songs, stories, and an opera—"The Thousand and One Fopperies." He was described as tall, with regular features, expressive blue eyes, and fine hair that he wore long. At twenty-seven, he became a commissary in the office and was soon sent as Comptroller to the Windward Islands, including the French Colony Martinique, famously known for its remarkable women. During his time there, he became close with Père Lavalette, the Superior of the S.J. Mission, and enjoyed a pleasant and intellectually stimulating career. Returning to Paris on leave, he reconnected with a fellow countrywoman and old family friend, Madame La Poissonnier, who had been appointed head nurse to the Duke of Burgundy. As the child in her care needed to be lulled to sleep, Cazotte composed the popular ballads, Tout au beau milieu des Ardennes, and Commere Il faut chauffer le lit. However, these light-hearted pieces brought him more fame than financial gain, and shortly after, he went back 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 littérateur 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 Châlons-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 écus—the whole fruit of his economies—by the speculations of Père 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.
During his second term, Cazotte wrote his epic comic poem, the Roman d'Olivier, in twelve cantos, which was later published in Paris (2 vols. 8vo, 1765); it was regarded as a unique and innovative work. When the English first attacked Saint Pierre in Martinique in 1759, which was later captured by Rodney in 1762, the lively writer showed great bravery and skill, but he overexerted himself and his health suffered, forcing him to leave his position due to illness. Upon arriving back in France, he learned that his brother, who had been the Vicar-General to M. de Choiseul, Bishop of Châlons-sur-Marne, had died and left him a good estate, Pierry, near Épernay; as a result, he resigned his post and retired with the title "Commissary General to the Marine." Unfortunately, he soon lost 50,000 écus—the entirety of his savings—due to the investments made by Père Lavalette, to whom he had entrusted his properties, slaves, and belongings in Martinique. These had been sold, and the checks sent to him; however, the S. J. refused to honor them. This led to a scandalous lawsuit in which Cazotte demonstrated considerable sensitivity and respect for the feelings of his former mentors.
Meanwhile Cazotte had married Elizabeth Roignon, daughter to the Chief Justice of Martinique; he returned to the Parisian world with some éclat 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 Genève: 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.
Meanwhile, Cazotte married Elizabeth Roignon, the daughter of the Chief Justice of Martinique. He returned to Parisian society with some flair and quickly became a universal favorite because of his clever wit and humor, his friendliness, his perfect honesty, and his warm demeanor. The popularity of "Olivier" prompted him to follow it up with Le Diable Amoureux, which was a continuation or rather a parody of Voltaire's Guerre civile de Genève. This work was so skillfully executed that it completely fooled everyone, and it was followed by several smaller pieces that were eagerly read. Unlike the strong-minded people of his time, after a carefree youth, he became a passionate Christian; he made the Gospel his guiding principle and boldly defended his religious beliefs. He also had the moral courage to engage with M. de Voltaire, who was then the idol of both the elite 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.
In later life, Cazotte met Dom Chavis, who was translating some Oriental tales into a unique blend of languages (Arabo-Franco-Italian). Even though he was getting close to the Psalmist's age of man, he agreed to "collaborate." The Frenchman would write at midnight after coming home from "social pleasures," working until 4 or 5 a.m. With his amazing talent and spontaneity, he completed his part of the project in just two winters. Some of the stories in the collection, especially "Maugraby," are entirely credited to his creativity; generally, his goal was to spread his spiritual ideas and write treatises on moral perfection in the form of short stories.
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 triumph.
Cazotte, after a fulfilling and honorable life, had every reason to expect with calmness "the evening and ending of a fine day." But that wasn't meant to be; the Great Revolution had stormed through the country like a hurricane, and he was destined to die a hero's death. His character was too straightforward, and his nature too honest, for a time that demanded secrecy. He had become one of the Illuminati, and La Harpe credited him with the famous prophecy that detailed the smallest events of the Great Revolution. A staunch Royalist, he openly shared his views with his old friend Ponteau, who was then Secretary of the Civil List. His letters surfaced shortly after the horrific day, August 10, 1792: he was quickly arrested at Pierry and taken to Paris, where he was imprisoned. On September 3, when violence surged again, he was attacked by the patriot-assassins but was saved only by the bravery of his daughter Elizabeth, who threw herself in front of him, crying, "You shall not reach my father's heart before piercing mine." The courage of the noble pair impressed the attackers, and they were taken home in triumph.
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 littérateur, 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.
For a few weeks, the family was left alone, but during that time, "Providence" was dormant, and luck didn’t favor the brave. The Municipality soon issued a decree for a second arrest, and the respected writer, aged seventy-two, was brought before the revolutionary tribunal set up to handle the alleged offenses of August 10. He endured an interrogation lasting thirty-six hours, during which his calmness and clarity of mind never left him, even impressing his accusers. However, he was sentenced to death for the simple reason: "It's not enough to be a good son, a good husband, and a good father; you must also prove yourself to be a good citizen." He spent his final hours with his confessor, wrote to his wife and children asking them not to grieve for him, not to forget him, and to always honor their God; he entrusted this letter, along with a lock of hair for his beloved daughter, to the priest. On the scaffold, he turned to the crowd and shouted, "I die as I have lived, truthful and loyal to my God and my King." His revered head, crowned with the white hair of age, fell on September 25, 1792.
Cazotte printed many works, some of great length, as the uvres 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 littérateur still blossoms in the dust.
Cazotte published many works, some of considerable length, like the uvres Morales, which filled 7 volumes in the complete edition of 1817. Biographers provide a lengthy list of publications, in addition to those mentioned, covering romantic, ethical, and spiritual themes, both in poetry and prose. However, he mainly wrote for his own enjoyment, never sought fame, and as a result, his reputation never matched his talent. Still, his name endures, pleasantly remembered amidst the chaos and turmoil of his time, and the memory of the clever, friendly, and virtuous writer continues to thrive even in obscurity.
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.
During my visit to Paris in early 1887, M. Hermann Zotenberg graciously showed me the manuscript, No. 1723, that contains the original stories of the "New Arabian Nights." Since my health didn’t permit me to stay long enough to finish my translation, Professor Houdas kindly agreed to copy the necessary excerpts and help explain the words and phrases that were confusing to me due to a lack of dictionaries and vocabularies in a foreign port town.
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 mutilation.
In translating a manuscript that has never been edited or corrected and is full of errors, I have focused on one main goal: my first and most important responsibility to the reader is to make my book engaging while presenting all the content the original text included or should have included. Therefore, I haven’t hesitated to rearrange sentences when necessary, remove repetitive words and phrases, cut out descriptions that are unnecessarily repeated, and at times, fill in the gaps that would otherwise weaken or break the flow of the story. These are adjustments that are necessary unless the translator's goal is to create an incomplete version of an already flawed work.
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
Here, I want to express my sincere thanks to Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, Consul-General for Nicaragua in New York. This respected Arabist not only sent me his manuscript, which includes "The Tale of Attaf," but he also took on the task of translating it for my collection, based on my strong belief that its unique approach warranted a special version. Mr. W. F. Kirby has once again provided my readers with an important service through his insightful notes. Finally, Dr. Steingass has once more offered his valuable support in wrapping up this series, just as he did at the beginning.
THE SIXTEENTH VOLUME OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT.
RICHARD F. BURTON
United Service Club, August 1st, 1888.
United Service Club, August 1, 1888.
SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS TO THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT
The Say of Haykar the Sage.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 Sankharib7 the Sovran, and of the son of the wise man's sister Nadan8 the Fool.
In the name of Allah, the Most Compassionate, the Compassionate, the Eternal One, the Infinite, and we await His help. And now we begin (with the support of the Almighty Allah and His gracious guidance) to tell the Story of Haykar the Sage, the Philosopher, the Minister of Sankharib7 the Sovereign, and of the son of the wise man's sister Nadan8 the Fool.
They relate that during the days of Sankháríb the King, lord of Asúr9 and Naynawah,10 there was a Sage, Haykár 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 Allah11 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 Nádán, 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 escarlate12 and dresses dyed with Alkermes,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 Cedar14 of Lebanon, his uncle taught him deportment and writing and reading15 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,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 me17 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 Sarhádún18 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.19 "O dear my son,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 coal21 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 thee22 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-tree23 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.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.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,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.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,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."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 assuredly30 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, Naudan31 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 Abná Sháh,32 physician to the King of Persia and Ajam 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 Nisrín, the Lowland of the Eglantine33 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,34 lord of Misraim,35 with this purport: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-day37 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?"38 Now the name of the Sworder was Abú Sumayk the Pauper,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.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.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, Shaghaftíní42 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."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 guards44 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.45 Thereupon Haykar led the Headsman aside into privacy and said to him, "O Abu Sumayk,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: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!"48 And after this Shaghaftini, the wife of Haykar, brought meat and drink to her husband down in the Matamor,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, keened50 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,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 kind52 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 charmers53 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 ashes54 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 himself55 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 Sworder56 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,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.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, "Subhána 'llahu ta'áláGod 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;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 Binúhál and the other Tabshálím.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 mud61 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 Egypt62 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 Abíkám;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-rite64 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,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 idol66 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 Naysán,67 and thy guards and grandees are like the white chamomile68 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 bough69 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 lend70 me the loan of nine hundred-weight71 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 spoken72 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 philosophy73 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?"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?"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.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.'"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 home78 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.'"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,80 thou hast been as the scorpion who when she striketh her sting81 upon brass would pierce it. O dear my son, thou hast resembled the Sajálmah-bird82 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-flowing83 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,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.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, tis 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,'86 quoth he, 'Lamb, Sheep, Kid, Goat,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.'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.
They say that during the reign of King Sankharib, lord of Assyria and Naynawah, there was a sage named Haykar. He was the Grand Wazir of the king and his chief secretary, a wealthy man with a comfortable life: he was smart and wise, a philosopher, filled with knowledge, advice, and experience. He had married sixty wives, each of whom had her own room in his palace; however, he had no son to care for, which deeply saddened him. So one day, he gathered experts, astrologers, and wizards to discuss his issue and lamented his childlessness. They replied, "Go inside, offer sacrifices to the gods, seek their guidance, and plead for their favor, hoping they may grant you the gift of a child." He did as they advised, laid out offerings, and earnestly prayed, but they gave him no response. Troubled and disheartened, he left. Then he returned in humility to Almighty Allah and confided in Him, pleading for help with a heavy heart, crying out, "O God of Heaven and Earth, Creator of all beings, I ask You to bless me with a son to comfort my old age, who can be my heir, attending to me in my last moments and burying my body." Then a voice from Heaven said, "Since you first put your trust in idols and offered sacrifices to them, you will remain childless, without sons or daughters. However, rise and take Nádán, your sister's child, as your son; teach him your wisdom, good manners, and intellect, and instruct him to inherit from you after your death." Thus, Haykar adopted his young nephew Nadan, who was still in infancy, to raise and educate. He assigned eight wet-nurses and dry-nurses to care for him, providing the finest diet, dressing him in luxurious fabrics, and laying him on soft silk rugs. As Nadan grew older and became tall like the majestic Cedar of Lebanon, his uncle taught him behavior, reading, writing, philosophy, and all knowledge. After a while, King Sankharib looked at Haykar and saw that he had become an old man, so he asked, "O my excellent companion, the generous, clever, judicious, insightful Sage, my Secretary and Minister, entrusted with my secrets and the advisor of my realm, knowing you are advanced in years and approaching death, tell me who will serve me after your passing?" Haykar replied, "O my lord the King, may you live forever! This Nadan, my sister's son, who I have raised as my own child, shall take my place as my heir and carry on my knowledge." The King commanded, "Bring him to me; let me see him. If he is suitable, I will appoint him in your stead. Then, you may retire and enjoy your old age with honor." So Haykar returned home, brought Nadan before the King, who looked upon him with great pleasure and said, "Is this your adopted son, O Haykar? May Allah protect him; just as you've served my father Sarhadun, may this boy serve me and fulfill my needs, that I may honor him for your sake." Haykar bowed before the King and said, "May your life last forever, O my lord! I ask you to watch over him, for he is my son, and be forgiving of his mistakes that he may serve you well." The King instantly swore to place the youth among his closest friends and honored companions so that he would be treated with respect. Haykar then kissed the royal hands and blessed his lord. Taking Nadan aside, Haykar began to instruct him day and night, aiming to fill his mind with wisdom and knowledge instead of just food and drink. He would tell him, "O my dear son, if words reach your ears, let them die in your heart and never share them with others; otherwise, they may burn your tongue and bring you pain, shame, and disdain from God and man. O my son, if you hear a rumor, do not reveal it, and if you see something, do not share it. Make your speech easy and do not rush to reply. Desire not fleeting beauty; it fades, while a good reputation lasts forever. Be wary of women who are bold in speech, lest you fall into their traps and be defeated by them. Seek not a woman who relies on artificial beauty, such as clothes and cosmetics, for she is often brazen and shameless. Be careful not to obey her and give her what is rightly yours or entrust her with what you possess, for she will lead you into sin, and Allah will be displeased with you. O my son, do not be like the almond tree, which blooms early but bears fruit last; rather, strive to be like the mulberry tree, which bears fruit first and leaves last. Keep your head down before those beneath you, speak kindly, and embrace the path of righteousness; avoid rudeness and do not raise your voice when speaking or laughing, for if noise could build a house, donkeys would construct many mansions daily. The labor of a wise man is better than drinking wine with the foolish. It is better to pour your wine on the graves of the pious than to waste it with those who offend with their arrogance. O my son, stay close to the God-fearing wise man and try to emulate him, and do not associate with a fool, lest you become like him and adopt his foolishness. When you choose a friend or a companion, test him first before committing; do not praise or share your thoughts with anyone who is not wise. Always stay vigilant; as long as you stand firm, pave the way for your children; build a boat before the sea turns stormy and you are drowned before finding safety. When a rich man eats a snake, people say it's his cleverness; but when a poor man does the same, they say it's due to his poverty. Be content with your status and possessions, and do not envy your neighbor. Avoid associating with the ignorant and refrain from sharing bread with them; take no pleasure in the suffering of those around you; when your enemy mistreats you, meet him with kindness. Fear the man who does not fear Allah, and hold him in contempt. The foolish will stumble and fall, while the wise will rise quickly, and when he is sick, he will easily heal; but the ignorant have no remedy for their ailments. When someone lesser than you speaks to you, make him stand in respect; if he does not suffice you, let the Lord suffice you. Spare no rods on your child, for beating him is like fertilizing a garden, binding a purse, tethering animals, and locking a door. Keep your child away from wickedness, and discipline him before he grows older and defies you, causing you to lose face in public, and risking you being seen as an accomplice in his wrongdoings. Let not any word escape your lips without considering your heart; do not involve yourself between two adversaries, for conversing with the wicked breeds enmity, which leads to violence and bloodshed, and your testimony will be sought later. Do not stand against those stronger than you; instead, exercise patience, resilience, and forbearance while following the path of piety, for there is nothing better than this. Rejoice not at the death of your enemy, for soon you may find yourself his neighbor. When the ignorant scoff at you, turn a deaf ear and treat them with respect. Wait patiently—for a still stream and soaring bird, and the even raven know not how to converse. If you wish to be wise, restrain your tongue from gossip, thief-like hands from plundering, and evil eyes from lusting; only then will you be called a sage. I’d rather be hit with a staff by a wise man than be smeared with sweet ointment by a fool. Be humble in your youth, and you will be honored in old age. When it comes to marriage, do not hurry; if it brings fortune, you will be unrecognized, and if misfortune, you will be blamed. Associate with those whose hands are generous and avoid the greedy. There are four unstable things: a king without an army, a Wazir lacking wise counsel, villainy among the people, and tyranny over the subjects. Four things cannot be hidden: the sage and the fool, the rich and the poor." Once Haykar finished sharing these wise nuggets with Nadan, he thought the youth would remember his lessons, but he was unaware that the opposite would occur. After that, the older Minister peacefully stayed home, leaving all his possessions, slaves, horses, camels, and livestock in the charge of the younger. Nadan was honored and promoted by the king, even more so than his uncle, while Haykar spent his retirement in quiet. He only visited the king occasionally to offer his greetings and promptly returned home. But once Nadan seized all control, he openly mocked Haykar in public, saying, "Truly, Haykar has grown old and senile; he can't tell one thing from another." He began abusing the slaves and handmaidens, sold the horses and camels, and squandered everything belonging to his uncle. When Haykar noticed this cruelty to his property and household, he quickly removed Nadan from his position. He apprised the King, declaring that he would reclaim all his possessions and belongings and sought his protection, and the King summoned Nadan. "As long as Haykar lives, let no one control his household or meddle with his affairs." Thus, Nadan's influence over his uncle was severed, and he ceased to visit or greet Haykar. Eventually, Haykar regretted the time he spent influencing Nadan and became increasingly troubled. Now, Nadan had a younger brother named Naudan, so Haykar adopted him in place of Nadan, treating and honoring him with the utmost respect, entrusting him with all his possessions, making him steward over his household and affairs. However, when the elder brother learned what had happened, he grew envious and jealous. He began to complain to anyone who would listen, ridiculing his benefactor: "My uncle has expelled me from his home and favored my brother instead; but, by Almighty Allah, I will have my revenge." Determined, he plotted the downfall of his relative. One day, he wrote a letter to Akhyash Abná Sháh, the physician to the King of Persia, with these words: "Greetings and best wishes from Sankharib, King of Assyria and Naynawah, and from his Wazir and Secretary Haykar to you. When this letter reaches you, rise swiftly to meet me at Buk'at Nisrín, the Lowland of Eglantine in Assyria, so I may hand over the kingdom to you without a fight." He also wrote a second letter in Haykar's name to Pharaoh, Lord of Misraim, with this message: "Greetings to you, O mighty ruler; on receipt of this letter, arise and head to Buk'at Nisrín so that I may give you the kingdom without battle or bloodshed." Since Nadan's handwriting closely resembled that of his uncle, he sealed both letters with Haykar's signet and threw them into the royal palace. Then he crafted a letter in the King's name to his uncle, stating, "Greetings to my Wazir and Secretary, Haykar; upon receipt of this letter, gather your forces and prepare them with arms to meet me on the fifth day at Buk'at Nisrín. When you see me coming, assemble your men for a mock battle as if they were my enemies, for messengers from Pharaoh have come to assess the strength of our armies. Let them fear us, for they are our adversaries." After sending this letter via one of the royal pages, Nadan proceeded to deliver his forged letters to the King, reading them aloud to him and displaying their seals. When Sankharib heard their contents, he was astonished and filled with fury, shouting, "What have I done to Haykar that he would write such a letter to my enemies? Is this how I am repaid for all the kindness I have shown him?" The advisor replied, "Do not be distressed, O King; instead, let us go tomorrow to Buk'at Nisrín and investigate if there is any truth to this." On Thursday, Nadan summoned the King, Wazirs, and military leaders, taking them along across the plains to the Lowland of Eglantine. Arriving, Sankharib noticed Haykar's army arranged for battle against him. When the former Minister saw his King approaching, he commanded his troops to prepare for battle against their lord as instructed by royal decree, completely unaware of the trap Nadan had set for him. Seeing this, the King grew anxious and enraged. Nadan then said, "Do you see, O King, what this pitiful man has done? But do not be upset or sorrowful; instead, return to your palace, and I will bring Haykar to you in chains without any trouble, easily defending you against your enemies." Sankharib hastily left, furious over his ancient advisor's actions. Nadan approached his uncle and said, "The King is very pleased and thanks you for obeying his commands. Now, he has sent me to tell you to send your men away and present yourself to him in chains, so he sees the state of the envoys sent by Pharaoh." Haykar agreed, "To hear is to obey!" So he had his arms restrained and legs fettered, then took his nephew with him to the King's presence. When he entered the throne room, he prostrated upon the ground, and the King asked, "O Haykar, my counselor and Keeper of my secrets, what wrong have I done you to be treated with such cruelty?" As he displayed the two letters with Haykar's seal and writing, the wise man trembled with fear, unable to speak at first, and became lost in thought. Seeing this, the King demanded he be executed by beheading outside the city. Nadan exclaimed, "O Haykar, O deceiver, what gain was there for you to enact such treachery against your King?" The executioner, Abú Sumayk the Pauper, was ordered to kill Haykar right in front of the Minister's door and to place his head a hundred ells away from his body. Hearing this, Haykar fell at the King's feet, calling out, "Let my lord the King live forever! If my death is what you desire, let it be; I know I am innocent, and the wrongdoer is punished according to his nature. Still, I hope, O King, that you will allow the executioner to hand over my body to my servants for burial, thus making me your sacrifice." The monarch instructed the executioner to do as Haykar requested. As the executioner took Haykar, who had been stripped of his outer garments, away to the place of execution, he called out to his wife, Shaghaftíní. He told her to come to meet him with a thousand maidens, dressed in red and silk, to mourn for him before he perished; also, to prepare a banquet for the executioner and his assistants with ample wine so that they could drink and celebrate. Shaghaftíní obeyed, being wise and resourceful. When the guards and executioners arrived at Haykar's house, they found tables loaded with food and wine, which led them to feast until they were satisfied, then offered thanks to their host. Haykar took the executioner aside and reminded him, "O Abu Sumayk, when King Sarhadun, Sankharib's father, sought to execute you, I hid you safe until the king summoned you. I managed to pacify his anger until he eventually welcomed you. Just as you remember those favors, I know the King will regret my death and will be furious about my murder, seeing that I am innocent. Knowing this, my nephew Nadan has betrayed me and schemed this downfall. There is a hidden cellar beneath my threshold that no one knows about; hide me there with the help of my wife Shaghaftíní. I also have a slave who is worthy of execution: bring him out, dress him in my clothes, and tell the drunken guards to kill him instead of me. They will never know whom they have slain. Finally, have them place his head a hundred cubits away from his body and hand over the corpse to my servants for burial. Thus, I will reward you for your kindness." The executioner complied with Haykar's wishes and returned to the presence of the King, saying, "May your days be long, O King!" Afterward, Shaghaftíní would send food and drink to her husband hidden in the cellar each Friday without anyone noticing. News spread throughout Assyria and Naynawah that Haykar the Sage had been executed by his King, and everyone mourned for him, lamenting out loud as they said, "Alas for you, O Haykar! What a great loss for your wisdom and knowledge! We mourn for you; who else could we find to match your intelligence and righteousness?" King Sankharib soon began to regret his decision, but it was too late: he sent for Nadan and ordered him to gather friends to mourn for Haykar and pay tribute, as was customary. But Nadan, ignorant and heartless, gathered only base companions and indulged in feasting and revelry instead of mourning. He abused Haykar’s slaves and handmaids, taking liberties with his uncle’s property and even attempting to seduce his uncle's wife. Meanwhile, Haykar, hidden away in the cellar, remained grateful to Allah the Merciful, thanking Him for saving his life, praying earnestly, and humbling himself before God. At times, the executioner would visit him for honor and pleasure. Eventually, news spread throughout the lands that Haykar the Wise had been killed, and rulers everywhere rejoiced, relishing King Sankharib's distress over losing his sage advisor. Quick to take advantage of the situation, the King of Misraim scripted a message to the King of Assyria reading: "Greetings and congratulations to my beloved brother Sankharib the King! I wish to inform you that I plan to build a palace in the air between the sky and the earth, and I request that you send me a wise, experienced man to help with this endeavor. If you do not, you will have to send me your taxes for Assyria and Naynawah and your financial tribute for three years." When King Sankharib received this message, he read it with his Wazirs and the nobles of his kingdom, leaving everyone perplexed and distressed. In his fury, he was unsure how to react. Soon, he gathered all the Shaykhs, Elders, Olema, physicians, philosophers, charmers, astrologers, and wise men in his realm and read Pharaoh's letter aloud. He then asked, "Who among you will travel to Pharaoh's court to respond to his inquiries?" They replied, "O King, only your Wazir Haykar could untangle these issues. Now, with no one else able to respond, you must summon Nadan, his sister's son, who has acquired all Haykar's wisdom." Acting on their advice, King Sankharib called for Nadan to come before him. "Read this letter and understand its meaning," the King commanded. But after reading it, Nadan said, "O King, leave these matters aside; what man can build a palace in the air between heaven and earth?" As soon as Sankharib heard these words, he cried out in distress and rage, stepping down from his throne to sit in ashes, weeping for the loss of Haykar, crying, "Woe is me for loss of my caretaker and kingdom advisor! Where will I find anyone like you, O Haykar? My sorrow now is profound; I cannot believe I killed you on the word of a foolish boy! To anyone who could bring Haykar back to me, or share news that he is alive, I would generously reward with half my wealth or even half my kingdom. But how can this happen? Ah, Haykar! Fortunate was he who saw you alive!" King Sankharib continued to weep and lament day and night. When the executioner observed his king's pain and yearning for Haykar, he came to the monarch and prostrated before him, saying, "O my lord, allow me to take my punishment and be executed!" The King gasped, "What sin have you committed?" "I have broken your command," replied the executioner. "A slave is punished for disobeying their master." The King said, "What have you done wrong, Abu Sumayk?" The executioner responded, "You commanded me to kill Sage Haykar. I knew you would regret his death, knowing he was innocent. So I left, hid him in an unknown place, and killed one of his slaves in his stead. Haykar is alive and well; if you wish, I will bring him before you. If you still want to execute me afterward, do as you see fit; if not, grant me your pardon." Upon hearing this, the King exclaimed, "How dare you mock me in such a grave hour, as your lord?" But the executioner replied, "By your life and your head, O King, I promise Haykar is alive and well!" When Sankharib heard this from the executioner and grew certain of the truth, he was overwhelmed with joy and nearly fainted from his exuberance. He ordered that Haykar be brought to him immediately, saying to the executioner, "If what you say is true, I will reward you! Go now and fetch Haykar!" The executioner hurried to Haykar's hiding place, announcing, "O Haykar, the greatest of blessings awaits you; come out and rejoice!" Asked Haykar, "What has happened?" The executioner recounted all that had transpired with Pharaoh. He then led Haykar back to the King, who saw him and mourned for his condition, noticing how he had become thin and ragged; his hair long like a wild animal's, his nails like a vulture’s, and his body malnourished from time in confinement. Dust covered him, dulling his color. Sankharib felt a wave of sorrow and, rising to honor him, kissed and embraced him, weeping, "Praise Allah for restoring you to me from the dead!" He comforted Haykar and prayed for forgiveness for having wronged him; rewarding the executioner lavishly and bestowing riches upon him, he turned to helping Haykar, who said, "O my lord, may you live forever! All this injustice befallen me was caused by the traitors, and I leaned against a palm tree for support, but it bent and brought me down. Now that you have summoned me, may your pain and sorrow vanish." "Blessed be Allah," the King responded, "who has had mercy on you, seeing you as a victim, saving and preserving you from execution. But now, go to the bathhouse, have your head shaved, nails trimmed, and change your clothes; rest at home for forty days to regain your health and restore your complexion. Afterward, appear before me." Haykar accepted the royal robes in gratitude, departing for home with joy, repeatedly proclaiming, "Praise be to God Almighty!" His family rejoiced at the news that he was still alive, and after a period of rest according to the King’s instructions, he dressed in his finest attire and rode into court, escorted by his happy servants. Seeing this turn of events, Nadan was filled with fear and panic, unsure of what to do. Upon entering, Haykar saluted the King, who seated him by his side, stating, "O beloved Haykar, look upon this letter sent to me by Pharaoh after hearing of your execution. They have subdued and scattered our people, forcing many to flee to Egypt in fear of the taxes they demand." Haykar took the letter, read its contents, then replied to the King, "Do not be angry, O my lord; I will travel to Egypt in person to provide a sufficient answer to Pharaoh and convey all his taxation demands back to you. I will retrieve all the people he has forced to escape and humiliate your enemies with Allah's help and your Majesty’s blessings." The King rejoiced at this response, showering Haykar and the executioner with generosity. The Minister requested, "Grant me forty days to consider this matter and devise a sufficient plan." Once the King consented, Haykar returned home, summoning his hunters to capture two strong young vultures. After securing them, he commanded someone to create two long cotton ropes, each measuring two thousand ells, and had carpenters build two large chests. Each day, he sacrificed lambs, feeding the vultures and boys while training the birds to fly higher by gradually increasing their ascent by ten cubits daily until they were able to soar with the boys on their backs. Once they mastered this, the boys learned to shout for stones, mud, and slaked lime, claiming, "We are wasting away here all day!" Haykar patiently instructed them until they became proficient. He then presented himself before King Sankharib, saying, "O King, the task is complete as you wished; now come with me and behold the marvel." The King and his attendants followed him outside the city, where he called for the vultures and boys, tied the relevant cords, and released them, allowing them to soar into the sky as they had learned. The boys began to shout in unison as they had practiced, "We need stones and mud and slaked lime to build Pharaoh’s bower, for we stand idle here all day!" Everyone present was amazed and confused, including the King and his nobles, while Haykar urged the craftsmen to provide every necessary tool without delay. "O Haykar," Pharaoh questioned, "are you out of your mind? No one can lift anything this high!" Haykar responded, "O King, how else could we build a bower in the sky? If my Lord were here, he could build two such structures in a day." Pharaoh declared, "Return home for now, take a rest; we've learned what we need to know about the bower and will discuss it tomorrow." Haykar returned home, and the following day, he reappeared before Pharaoh, who asked, "O Haykar, what of your master’s stallion? When it neighs in Assyria and Nineveh, the sound reaches our mares here, causing them to miscarry." So Haykar returned to his residence, captured a tabby cat, and began beating her loudly until her cries reached the palace. Pharaoh heard and sent for him, asking, "Haykar, why did you punish this cat so?" Haykar replied, "O my lord, she has wronged me greatly deserving this punishment." The King questioned, "What has the cat done wrong?" Haykar explained, "My master, Sankharib, gifted me a beautiful rooster with a remarkable crow. But last night, this mischief-maker entered my home and killed him while I slept. Hence, I felt justified in punishing her." Pharaoh scoffed, "Haykar, you must be losing your mind! Between Egypt and Nineveh lies a vast distance; how could this cat have traveled so far to kill your rooster and return by morning?" Haykar pointed out, "If the stallion’s neigh can be heard through such a distance, how can you doubt my tale about the cat?" Realizing the wisdom in Haykar’s words, Pharaoh requested, "Create two ropes of sand." Haykar responded, "Fetch me a rope from your collection, and I will create a similar one." They complied, and Haykar dug two cylindrical holes and filled them with sand; once the sun rose, the sand appeared like ropes under its brightness. He instructed Pharaoh, "Tell your servants to retrieve these ropes; I can create as many as they desire." Pharaoh complained about a millstone that was broken, asking Haykar to fix it. Without tools on hand, Haykar suggested they invite cobblers to provide him everything he needed to mend it. Pharaoh laughed heartily, praising Haykar’s sharp wit and acknowledging that he had answered all Pharaoh's inquiries. Thus, he reluctantly acknowledged his defeat, gathering three years’ worth of taxes and endowing Haykar with fine garments and additional riches for the return journey. Haykar asked Pharaoh, "Do me one favor: release all Assyrians and Naynawans you have imprisoned." The King agreed, sending a herald to announce this order before bidding farewell to Haykar and setting off for home with great treasures. When the news of his return reached King Sankharib, he rode out to greet his Minister with overwhelming joy, showering him with affection and asking, "Welcome back, helper of my kingdom! What do you wish for? Even half my wealth is yours." Haykar graciously replied, "Long live the King! If you have any gifts, please bestow them upon Abu Sumayk, my executioner, whose thoughtful delay and kindness returned me to life." "I shall honor him in your name," the King pledged. He inquired further about the journey, the tasks completed, and the treasures he received from Pharaoh. Haykar recounted everything, earning the King’s immense joy. When their conversation wrapped, Sankharib told Haykar, "Take whatever you desire from the treasures, as they are within your grasp." Haykar replied, "I ask for your safety and the continuation of your reign, nothing more; but if you do wish to gift me with something, grant me Nadan, my sister’s son, so I can repay him for his betrayal, and may his blood become mine." Sankharib consented, "Take him; I hand him over to you." Haykar then took Nadan home, bound his hands and feet with heavy chains, and inflicted punishment upon him. He placed him in a dark pit near the toilets, instructed Binuhal to guard him, and provided him just a loaf of bread and a bit of water daily. Every time he visited Nadan, he derided him, saying, "I raised you well and honored you, yet you returned my kindness with treachery and attempted to kill me. They say, 'Whoever does not listen with their ears will hear through the nape of their neck.'" Nadan pleaded, "Uncle, why are you angry with me?" Haykar declared, "Because I honored you and helped you grow, only for you to seek my end and wish death upon me. But Allah knows me as a wronged man, protecting me; His strength supports the broken-hearted and punishes the envious. You've behaved like a scorpion that cannot strike brass but still tries; you're like a Sajálmah bird, trapped and seeking destruction while dragging others down with you. You’ve been like a cold puppy warming by a stove, but when you feel warm, you bark and chase everyone that has cared for you away. You resemble a pig that went into a bathhouse; clean on the outside, yet wallowed in filth once out. You led and betrayed your friends, just like an old goat leading others to slaughter without escaping himself. Your laziness will lead to punishment by hands cut off from their shoulders. You've acted like a tree that bears no fruit, begging for another chance only to fail again. Better an elder eagle than a young raven. They cautioned against wolves, yet you foolishly sought their companionship. You can train beasts but not change their nature. Those who do good prosper, while those who commit wrongs find themselves suffering, as Allah rewards every action accordingly. What more can I tell you? Allah knows secrets and will ensure justice prevails between us, rewarding you for your actions." After hearing Haykar’s words, Nadan started to swell until he exploded, and his demise arrived, sending him to the fires of hell and despair. It is often said, "Whoever digs a pit for someone else will fall into it themselves; whoever sets a trap will be caught." This concludes the tale of Haykar the Sage, and all praise belongs to Allah forever.
TMT.89
THE HISTORY OF AL-BUNDUKANI OR, THE CALIPH HARUN AL-RASHID AND THE 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.90
In the name of Allah, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful, we are writing, with the help of the Almighty and His support, the History of the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the Daughter of Kisra the King.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),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 fête of 'Arafát.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 breasts93 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."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,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;"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 Ispahán, and the income of Khorásán-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, arras97 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 Kisrà Anushirwán; but the shifts of time and tide brought me down and low down." Replied he, "They relate that thine ancestor, the Chosroë, wronged his lieges with mighty sore wronging;"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 Harím to the Prince of True Believers." Hearing this the Caliph was wroth with mighty great wrath99 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 fête-day of Arafat came round again, the Commander of the Faithful donned disguise and taking with him Ja'afar and Masrúr 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 Katífah-cakes100 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-carrier101 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 whore102 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 cord103 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.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!"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 Fête 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,106 whence gottest thou this charger: hast thou wilfully stolen it or suddenly snatched it?"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."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,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 Sakká.' 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!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 time111 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,112 and thrusting his feet into coarse shoon and high of heel113 and binding about his brows a honey-coloured turband114 he hent in hand a pellet- bow115 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 Kaysaríyah116 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,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;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, "Whatso119 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.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,
It is said (but Allah knows all His secrets and understands what has happened and what has passed in the stories of people), that the Caliph (specifically, Harun al-Rashid) was seated on his throne one day, which happened to be the festival of 'Arafát. While glancing at Ja'afar the Barmaki, he said, "O Wazir, I want to disguise myself and go out from my palace into the streets, wandering around the roads of Baghdad to give charity to the poor and to enjoy seeing the people: so let us hurry and keep our outing a secret." "Absolutely, my lord," replied Ja'afar. After that, the Caliph moved from the audience hall to the inner palace, where they both donned disguises, shortened their sleeves and tunics, and went out to roam the streets of Baghdad, handing out charity to the needy until the day came to an end. While doing this, the Commander of the Faithful spotted a woman sitting at the side of the street, extending her hand for help and showing her wrist as she cried, "Please give me something for the sake of Allah Almighty!" He looked closely at her and saw that her palm and wrist were as white as crystal, even more radiant. He was amazed and pulled a dinar from his pocket, handing it to Ja'afar and saying, "Give it to that woman." Ja'afar took the coin and approached her, placing it in her palm; when she closed her fingers around it, she felt it was larger than a copper or silver coin, upon which she looked and realized it was gold. She called out after Ja'afar, who was walking away, saying, "Hey, you handsome young man!" When he returned to her, she asked, "Is the dinar you gave me for the sake of Allah or for something else?" He replied, "It’s not from me; it was given by that young man who sent it through me." "Ask him," she insisted, "and let me know what his intention is." Ja'afar hurried back to the Caliph and reported her words, which led his lord to command him, "Go back and tell her it’s for Allah’s sake." The Minister did as instructed, and she responded, "May Allah reward him." Ja'afar returned to the Commander of the Faithful and relayed the woman's response, who then ordered, "Go to her and find out if she is married or single; if she is unmarried, ask her if she would like to marry me." So Ja'afar approached her and inquired, to which she answered, "I am a virgin." He said, "The young man who sent you the dinar wants to marry you." She replied, "If he can pay my dowry in full up front, I will become his bride." Ja'afar thought to himself, "Where can the Prince of True Believers find her dowry and the cash upfront? We will likely have to ask for a loan for him;" and he then asked her for the total amount. She responded, "For my dowry, it will be the annual revenue of Ispahán, and the income of Khorásán city will be part of the settlement." Ja'afar shook his head and went back to the Commander of the Faithful to repeat her terms, and Harun, satisfied, said, "Go back and tell her, 'He accepts this and you have agreed.'" Upon hearing his words, she replied, "What is his worth, this man, and how can he afford such a sum?" He answered, "He is indeed the Commander of the Faithful, Harun al-Rashid." When she heard this, she covered her hands and feet and said, "Praise and gratitude be to Allah!" then added to Ja'afar, "If he is the Prince of True Believers, I accept." The Wazir returned to the Caliph with her consent, and afterward, they both returned home, and the Caliph sent her a matron and a group of maidservants who took her to the Hammam (bathhouse) in the palace and bathed her. Afterward, they dressed her in beautiful clothes fitting for royal women, along with jewelry and adornments, and then led her to a special private room containing food, drinks, furnishings, tapestries, and curtains. Finally, they went to inform the Caliph of what they had done, and he ordered the four Kazis to draft her marriage documents. When night fell, he paid her the first visit and took a seat across from her, asking, "To whom do you belong that you requested such a dowry from me?" She replied, "May Allah elevate the Commander of the Faithful! Truly, I am of the lineage of Kisrá Anushirwán; but the whims of fate have brought me low." He replied, "They say that your ancestor, the Chosroë, wronged his subjects terribly;" and she replied, "Indeed, because of such oppression, his descendants now beg for bread on the streets." He added, "They also mention that later he ruled justly to the extent that he resolved disputes between birds and beasts;" and she responded, "That is why Allah has elevated his descendants from the streets and made them part of the harem of the Prince of True Believers." Hearing this, the Caliph became very angry and swore that he would not approach her for an entire year, and he immediately left her. But when the year had passed, and the festival of Arafat returned, the Commander of the Faithful disguised himself and took Ja'afar and Masrúr the Eunuch with him, strolling out to wander the streets of Baghdad again. As they walked, the Caliph noticed a booth where a man was making Katífah-cakes and admired his skill so much that, upon returning to the palace, he sent one of his Eunuchs with a message, "The Prince of True Believers requests one hundred pancakes from you, and each one should be small enough to fit in a man's hand." The Eunuch conveyed the order, paid the price, and when the pastry chef finished making his order, he brought it to the Caliph. The Caliph seated himself and asked for sugar, pistachios, and all necessary ingredients, and then he began filling the pancakes himself, placing a gold dinar in each one. After this, he sent the same Eunuch to the daughter of Kisra with the message, "This night the Commander of the Faithful wishes to visit you, as his year of not entering has ended, and he asks, 'What does your heart desire that I may send it to you?'" The Eunuch set off on this errand and received the reply, "Tell him I desire nothing, for all I need is with me and there is nothing lacking." Accordingly, he returned and repeated her words to the Caliph, who told him to go back again and say the same to her. She then replied, "Let him send me a thousand dinars and a trustworthy duenna, so that I may disguise myself and go out with her to give gold to the poor and the needy." The slave returned with this reply, which led the Caliph to order the money sent to her, along with the woman she requested; thus, the princess and the duenna went out and traveled through the alleys of Baghdad, distributing her charity to the beggars and the needy. But when all the gold was spent and nothing remained, they headed back towards the palace, and due to the heat of the day, the young lady became thirsty. She said to her companion, "O mother, I am thirsty and desire a drink of water," and the other replied, "We will call out to the Water-carrier who will provide for you." The princess responded, "Drinking from the Water-carrier's jar will not please me; nor will I touch it, for it’s like a whore that men visit every hour: let the water be from a private house and let it be given as a kindness." At this, the old woman looked ahead and saw a grand entrance with a sandalwood door, a lamp hanging by a silk cord above it, and a curtain drawn across it, with two marble benches under the care of a pleasant concierge. Then she said, "From this house, I will ask for a drink for you." They approached the door, and the duenna knocked lightly with the ring, and behold, the door was opened by a young man, handsome and dressed in fine garments, who said, "Go ahead!" The duenna addressed him, "O my son, my daughter is thirsty, and I ask your kindness to give her a drink of water, especially since she will not drink from the Water-carrier." He replied, "With love and goodwill," and went inside to fetch what was needed, handing the cup to the old woman. She took it and passed it to her mistress, who, turning her face to the wall, lifted her veil and drank her fill without revealing a single feature. Subsequently, she returned the cup to the old woman, who handed it back to the young man, saying, "May Allah reward you abundantly, my son!" He replied, "Health and healing to you!" The two then returned to the palace. As for the Caliph, after filling the pancakes, he arranged them in a large porcelain dish; then, summoning the Eunuch, he ordered, "Take this and deliver it to the daughter of Kisra, saying, 'Here are the sweetmeats of peace,' and let her know that I will visit her tonight." The Eunuch did as instructed and took the dish to the princess's quarters, handing it to the duenna and delivering the message. She blessed and prayed for the Commander of the Faithful and the slave departed. He felt angry and disappointed because he could not eat even one pancake, fearing that if he touched any, its spot would be left vacant. Soon it happened that the young lady asked her duenna, "Please take this dish and deliver it to the young man who gave us the water, so that he may not feel obliged or desire anything from us." The old woman took the dish and set off with it. However, along the way, she craved a Katifah and reached out to take one, only to see it left a gap as large as a man's palm in the line of pancakes. Fearing that this took place, she put it back, saying, "It will be obvious that I took one." After replacing the pancake, she continued on to the door close to the young man, whom she suddenly noticed sitting at the entrance. She greeted him with a salutation, which he returned, then she said, "O my son, the young lady who drank the water sends you this dish in appreciation for the drink you provided her." He replied, "Set it down on the door-bench." After she placed it there, he thanked her, and she walked away. As the young man sat there, the Watchman of the Ward came by, blessing him and saying, "O my lord, it is the day of Arafat, and tonight will be the eve of the 'Id (Greater Festival); thus, I hope for the generosity of my master Alaeddin (whom Allah Almighty keep and preserve!) that he will order me a largesse befitting the festival to buy sweetmeats for my wife and children." The other replied, "Take this dish and go with it." The Watchman thanked him and took it home to show his wife. But she exclaimed, "O you miserable one, where did you get this dish? Did you steal it or take it suddenly?" He replied, "This is the property of Emir Alaeddin, the Chamberlain (whom Allah preserve!), and he gave it to me as an alms-gift; come, everyone, let’s eat, for the pancakes look delicious." His wife retorted, "Are you out of your mind? Go sell the dish and the food; the whole worth should be about thirty or forty dirhams which we need for the kids." He countered, "O woman, let's eat this food that the Almighty has provided us." But she would not hear of it, wailing, "We won’t taste it while the children lack caps and slippers." She won him over with her persistent arguing, for indeed, women often prevail. Taking the dish with him, he went to the marketplace to sell it to a broker, who then called out, "Who will buy this dish with all it contains?" Then the Shaykh of the Bazaar approached, offering forty dirhams, and a second merchant raised the bid to eighty, when a third one took it in hand and noticed the inscription on the edge stating, "Made by command of Harun al-Rashid, Commander of the Faithful." The trader was stunned, exclaiming, "Do you wish to hang me for selling this dish?" The broker asked, "What do you mean by that?" and the merchant explained, "This dish belongs to the Prince of True Believers." The broker, terrified, took the dish and hurried to the Caliph's Palace, seeking permission to enter. Once inside, he kissed the ground before the throne and blessed the Commander of the Faithful, then showed him the dish. When the Caliph examined it closely and recognized it along with its contents, he grew immensely furious, saying to himself, "When I prepare something for my household, shall it be taken out and sold?" He then asked the broker, "Who gave you this dish?" The broker answered, "O my lord, it was given to me by the Watchman of one of the wards," and Harun commanded, "Bring him to me now!" They quickly fetched him, bound in cords, as he thought to himself, "The woman would not let us enjoy the food that was in the dish and now this has happened: we haven’t eaten anything and have fallen into misfortune." When they placed him before the Caliph, he asked, "Where did you get that dish? Tell the truth, or I will execute you!" The Watchman responded, "May Allah prolong our lord's life! This dish was given to me by Lord Alaeddin, the junior Chamberlain." This infuriated the Prince of True Believers even more, as he cried, "Bring me that Emir with a torn turban and drag him along, then plunder his house." Therefore the officials and their pages went out to his residence, knocking at the door. The owner emerged, saw the officials, and asked, "What is the matter?" One of the Grandees replied, "It is against you," to which the Chamberlain responded, "I hear and obey Allah, and then the Commander of the Faithful!" Afterward, they brought him to the Caliph's Palace, and one of the Emir's men tore at his coat, ripping his turban off his neck while saying, "O Alaeddin, this is the order of the Prince of True Believers, who has commanded us to do this and raid your house: still, we have bread and salt between us, but we must obey royal orders, for following commands is part of good manners." They brought him before the Caliph, and when he stood before the ruler, he kissed the ground and blessed Harun, saying, "May Allah assist our master and keep him safe: what crime have I committed to deserve such treatment?" Harun looked up and asked, "Do you know that man?" He looked, saw the Watchman tied up, and answered, "Yes, indeed, he is the Watchman of our ward." The Caliph continued, "Where did you get that dish?" and the Chamberlain responded, "Let the Commander of the Faithful learn that I was at home when someone knocked on the door; when I opened it, I saw an old woman who said to me, 'O my son, my daughter is thirsty and I ask of your generosity to give her a drink since she will not take water from the public Water-carrier.' So I provided them with what they needed, and after about an hour, I came out and sat by my door when to my surprise the old woman came back carrying the dish and said, 'O my son, the person you gave water to sends you this as a thank you, as she does not want to be in your debt.' I said, 'Place it down'; she set it on the edge of the bench and left. Soon after, this Watchman came and asked me for a festival treat, to which I said, 'Take this dish and its contents' (though I hadn’t tasted any myself); and he did so and went. That is all I know." Now when the Commander of the Faithful heard this from the Chamberlain, he was pleased and asked, "O Alaeddin, did you see her face when the young lady drank the water?" The Chamberlain hastily replied, "O Prince of True Believers, indeed I did." The Caliph became extremely angry and commanded that both of them be executed, saying, "You go out to do charitable acts, and yet you dare reveal your face to this man when you drank water from him!" She then turned to Alaeddin, responding, "You saw my face! No, that is a lie that could lead to my death." He retorted, "The reed-pen wrote what it was commanded to write! I meant to say, 'I saw nothing of her,' but my tongue ran ahead to end our appointed time." They positioned the two on the blood-stained rug, the executioner bound their hands and, tearing a strip from their skirts, blindfolded their eyes. The Watchman, sensing the imminent end, thought, "The woman wouldn’t let us enjoy the food from the dish, resulting in this misfortune: we have eaten nothing and face danger." As the executioner walked around them, he said, "By the leave of the Commander of the Faithful;" to which Harun commanded, "Strike!" Then the executioner circled around them again saying, "By the leave of the Commander of the Faithful," and Harun again ordered, "Strike!" However, when the executioner advanced for the third and final time, he asked Alaeddin, "Do you happen to have any regret or requests that I might fulfill? Ask me anything except for your release, before the Commander of the Faithful gives the command and your head falls at your feet." Alaeddin replied, "I wish for you to remove this bandage from my eyes so that I may take one last look at the world and my friends, after which you can proceed with your duty." The executioner granted this; Alaeddin glanced first to the right to find no help available and then to the left, where he found all favor stripped away. The spectators all lowered their heads out of fear of the Caliph, none daring to say a kind word. In desperation, the Chamberlain called out loudly, "A request, O Commander of the Faithful!" Harun looked at him, asking, "What is it you advise?" He answered, "A three-day reprieve; after which, you will see something remarkable, indeed a miracle." The Caliph replied, "After three days, if I don’t see what you claim, I will surely execute you." With that, they led him back to prison. When the allotted time expired, the Caliph, eager to witness what might happen, donned a guise fitting for his new role, slipped into coarse shoes with high soles, wrapped a honey-colored turban around his head, took a pellet-bow and slung its case over his shoulder, also pocketing some gold. Thus prepared, he left the palace. While wandering around the streets of Baghdad, giving charity and thinking, "Perhaps I will witness the marvel that Chamberlain Alaeddin foretold," it so happened around noon (and as he walked) that he heard a merchant shouting from the marketplace, "This is a wonder, indeed a miracle." The Caliph questioned him, "What is this marvel you have seen?" The merchant replied, "Inside that marketplace is a woman who recites the Koran just as it was revealed, and although she has not stopped from dawn prayer to this moment, not a single dirham has been given to her; not even a crumb, and what could be stranger than this?" Upon hearing this, the Caliph entered the market where he spotted an old woman reciting the Koran, who was nearing the end. Captivated by the beauty of her recitation, he remained until she finished and blessed the onlookers, only to notice that no one had given her anything. So he reached into his pocket, deciding, "Whatever remains in my purse shall go to this woman." Just as he intended to gift her the gold, the old woman suddenly got up and walked over to a merchant's stall, sitting next to him and saying, "O my son, would you like to have a beautiful young lady?" He answered, "Yes, indeed," and she continued, "Come, let me show you something you have never seen before." When the Caliph heard this, he thought to himself, "Look at that ugly old crone pretending to be pious even as I held her to be a holy woman. I will not give her anything until I see what they both do." The merchant then followed the old woman to her home, and the Caliph, following discreetly, found a spot from which he could see without being seen. Lo and behold! The old hag called for her daughter, who emerged from the room, and the Caliph realized that he had never seen anyone amongst his women who was as beautiful as this one—a true vision of grace and beauty, with a perfect figure. Her eyes were dark and dreamy, outlined with kohl like a Babylonian sorceress, her eyebrows arched like bows ready to unleash deadly arrows, her nose sharp like a scimitar, while her mouth was captivating, akin to Solomon's ring; her lips were two pieces of carnelian, her teeth pearls, her breath sweeter than honey and cooler than a refreshing spring. Her body was round like a pomegranate, with a delicate waist, full hips, and soft skin like silk, stirring the soul and capturing the gaze, just as a certain poet described her.
"Breeze-wavèd 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 fellowèd 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!"
"Breeze-blown branch, full moon of shadow or sunlight shining bright, Who is she called that holds the power to bring any down to poverty, oh! Where on the bending branch she rests with elegance like hers, oh! Though the branch is adorned by the gentle breeze and dressed in its ornaments, oh! And how can her brow compare to the brightest moon that illuminates the darkness, When the sun must borrow morning light from that fair forehead shining bright, oh! If we weighed the fairest in comparison with a long list of standards, You would outshine them all for beauty, and their charms would seem light, oh!"
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 requite121 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,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,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?"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 Kází Such-an-one and tell him that Al-Bundukáni 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."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 gore126 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;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,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 name129 and that of her sire and grandsire. She wailed and cried, "Why and wherefore?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,"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.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-Záji,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?"134 He answered, "Take it from the government stores135 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,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 scaffoldings137 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,138 and said to herself, "This my son-in-law, the Robber, is naught save a viceroy of the Jánn; 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 hemp139 and so forth; and lastly, charging them as he had charged the others who forewent them, he said, "As soon as the Izán 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."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 Hammáls 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.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;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, Katás,143 and quails,144 lambs and butcher's meat, clarified butter and other cooking material, with all manner of edibles and delicacies such as sugar and Halwá-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 Wálí145 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 Názúk146 the Wali mounted horse with four hundred headsmen and smiters of the sword, link-boys and low fellows,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 Shamámah148 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.149 Brief he was, even as the poet said,
Now when he looked at her closely, she took his heart completely. But the young lady didn't have enough clothes to cover herself, and her bare skin peeked out here and there. So when she came out and saw the young man standing by the old woman, she retreated into her room and said to her mother, "May Allah reward you for what you've done. How can it be right for you to put me in this situation before a stranger?" Her mother replied, "Be quiet. A man is allowed to look, and if he has any connections to the person he’s looking at, that’s fine; but if he looks without any right to do so, then it’s not allowed. This young man has looked at you, and if it turns out he has a claim to you, let him have it; if not, he can go on his way, and there’s nothing wrong with that." At this, the Caliph felt relieved, as he understood that the old woman intended to marry off her daughter. Soon the old mother asked the merchant, "Have you seen her?" to which he replied, "Yes." "Did you like her?" asked the crone, and he said, "Yes, indeed," adding, "What would be her marriage settlement and her dowry?" She answered, "The first will be four thousand dinars, and the second will be the same." "That’s too much," the young man replied, "more than I can manage. Give me a break and take one thousand dinars from me, and I will handle the household expenses and the bride's clothing for another thousand; the rest I would like to trade with." But the old woman swore by Allah the Almighty that if he fell short even by a single gold piece, he wouldn’t see even a single hair of the girl. He answered, "I can’t do that—goodbye to both of you," and he headed for the door. The Caliph followed him out onto the street, standing in a corner while letting him pass and continue on his way. After this, Harun returned to the old woman and entered, greeting her. She returned his greeting and asked, "What do you want, and what is your wish?" He replied, "The young merchant who just left sent me to say he does not wish to marry." She responded, "That's why the man left us." Then the Caliph said, "I will marry the girl, and I have all the gold you could desire." She retorted, "Oh Robber, all I see on you is worth less than two hundred dirhams: where will you get four thousand dinars?" He asked, "Do you have grapes to sell, or are you just trying to stir up a fight with the vineyard keeper?" and she replied, "Of course I have grapes." "Then I have everything you could want," he said, and she said, "We will marry you when you have counted out the gold." The Caliph exclaimed, "I accept!" and then he entered the house, took a seat at the head of the room in the place of honor, and said to the housekeeper, "Go to Kazi Such-and-such and tell him that Al-Bundukáni requests him." "Oh Robber," she said, "will the Kazi be willing to come because you asked?" The Commander of the Faithful laughed at these words and said, "Go without worry and have him bring his ink, pens, and paper." So she left, saying to herself, "If the Judge comes with me, this son-in-law must be a Captain of Robbers." But when she finally arrived at the Kazi's house, she found him sitting in the middle of a room filled with scholars and a group of educated men. She was afraid to enter, so she looked in through the doorway, hesitating to go further and stepping back; still, she kept thinking, "How will I go home without saying a word to the Kazi?" It reassured her heart, so she returned to the entrance, peered in, and then withdrew again. She repeated this many times until the Kazi noticed her and told one of his messengers to bring her in. The man approached her and said, "Speak to the Kazi!" So she nervously went in and greeted the Judge, who returned her greeting and asked her, "What do you want, woman?" She answered, "There’s a young man in my house who wants you to come to him." He replied, "Who is this young man that I should go to him in person, and what is his name?" She said, "He claims to be Al-Bundukani—the Crossbowman" (which was a secret name for the Caliph known to all officials but not to the general public). Upon hearing this, the Kazi jumped to his feet without hesitation and said to her, "Oh my lady, please excuse me," while everyone else asked, "Where are you going, our lord?" He answered them, "I have an urgent matter to attend to," and rushed out. The old woman thought to herself, "Unfortunate is the Kazi who is a good guy; perhaps this son-in-law has made him fear him somehow and he’s afraid of him; otherwise, why would this Robber make the Judge rush to his house?" When they reached the door, the Kazi told the old lady to go in first. She entered and called for him, and upon entering, he saw the Caliph seated at the head of the chamber. He would have bowed down but Harun signaled for him to be quiet with a wink; so he greeted him and sat down, saying, "It's good, my lord, what can I do for you?" The Prince of True Believers replied, "I want you to marry me to the daughter of this old woman, so write up the contract." The Judge then asked for the consent of the old woman and her daughter; when they both agreed, he inquired, "What is the dower amount?" The mother answered, "Four thousand dinars of gold and the same sum in cash." "Do you accept?" the Kazi asked the Caliph, to which he replied, "Yes." The Judge then wrote the contract on the edge of his robe since he forgot to bring paper, and he listed the names of the king, his father, and his grandfather without question since he knew them well. After that, he asked the old woman for her daughter’s name and that of her father and grandfather. She lamented, saying, "Why and how? Oh, how miserable we are! If her father were alive, how could this Robber stand at our door, much less marry her? It was Death that did this to us." "May Allah bless the wronged," said the Kazi, busying himself with writing the contract. No matter what question he asked the old woman, she wailed back and slapped her face, while the Judge shook his head, feeling for her, and the Caliph laughed out loud. Once the contract was written and completed, the writer tore a piece from the edge of his robe for the contract and handed it to Harun. Then he stood up to leave, but he felt embarrassed to wear a tattered robe, so he took it off and said to the old woman, "Oh my mother, give this to someone who deserves it." Saying this, he left the house. The old woman then said to the Caliph, "Are you not going to pay the Kazi for coming in person and writing the contract on his robe, which he had to discard?" "Let him go," said the Caliph, "I won't give him anything." She exclaimed, "Why? How greedy these robbers are! The man came to us in hopes of profit, and we have taken from him instead of giving him something." Harun laughed again, then he got up and said to her, "I’m going home now to get you the gold and the supplies to dress my bride," and the old woman shouted, "Robber, where will you find cloth and money? Unlucky is the one you plan to rob and leave in poverty!" The Commander of the Faithful remained silent and went out, heading for his palace, where he donned royal robes and sat upon his throne, ordering marble workers, carpenters, plasterers, and house painters to be summoned. When they all arrived, kissed the ground, blessed him, and prayed for the longevity of his empire, he had them beaten with two hundred sticks each. When they pleaded for mercy and asked him, "Oh our lord, what have we done wrong?" he said to the craftsmen, "The hall such-and-such in the Darb-al-Záji, do you know it well?" They replied, "Yes," and he continued, "I want you all to go right there and repair the walls with marble slabs. If by mid-afternoon you leave a spot unfinished, even as small as a hand, I will cut off your hands and hang them in that place." "Oh Prince of True Believers," they asked, "how will we do that when we have no marble?" He replied, "Take it from the government store and gather every stonecutter in Baghdad. But remember, if the household asks who sent you, say 'Your son-in-law;' if they ask 'What is his profession?' say 'We do not know;' and if they want to know his name, say it is Al-Bundukani. And whoever of you says anything beyond this, I will crucify him." So the head mason went out, gathered the stonecutters, took marble and stone from the stores, loaded the materials onto beasts, and went to the hall, entering with his crew. The old woman asked, "What do you want?" "We are here to slab the floors and walls of this house!" "And who sent you?" "Your son-in-law!" "And what is his trade?" "We don’t know." "And what is his name?" "Al-Bundukani," they said. She thought to herself, "He is nothing but a Robber and Captain of thieves." Then the masons divided the areas to work on, each finding they only had to slab a small area. But as for the Caliph, he turned to the chief carpenter, looked at him closely, and said, "You too, go gather all your colleagues in the capital; then go to Such-and-such's house and do the carpentry work, taking everything you need from the government warehouses; and do not let mid-afternoon come until you are done, or I will cut off your neck." He gave them the same instruction he gave the marble workers, never to reveal his identity or even his name except as Al-Bundukani. So the chief carpenter left, gathered his craftsmen, took planks and nails, and headed to the home, entered, and set up their scaffolds, while the headman assigned tasks to everyone. The old woman was perturbed and shouted to the workers, "And why? Who sent you?" "Your son-in-law!" "And what may be his trade?" "We don’t know." "And what is his name?" "Al-Bundukani." They continued working, encouraging each other, while the old woman nearly went mad and thought to herself, "This son-in-law of mine is nothing but a powerful man, and people live in fear of him; otherwise, how could all this be done in a single day when no one else could have accomplished such a feat in a year? But it’s a pity he’s a Robber." Soon she approached the plasterers and asked, "Who sent you?" "Your son-in-law!" "What may be his trade?" "We do not know." "And what is his name?" "Al-Bundukani." After that, she went to the house painters, asked the same questions, and received the same answers. Then she asked one of them, "For God's sake, why won't you tell me your son-in-law's name and his profession?" The man replied, "No one has the liberty to talk, or his life is at risk;" and she thought to herself, "Indeed, he is nothing but a mighty Robber, and all the Muslims are afraid of him and his mischief." Now when mid-afternoon came, the craftsmen had completed all their work, and they dressed up and went to the Commander of the Faithful, Harun the Orthodox. When they entered, everyone kissed the ground and said, "By the blessings of our lord the Prince of True Believers, we have completed the work on the house." He rewarded them with honor and gifts that pleased them, and then they left to resume their affairs. The Caliph then called for porters and had them load crates with furniture such as carpets, bed covers, cushions, and wall hangings, along with kitchen supplies and everything necessary for running a household. He also included two baskets filled with garments made of gold cloth and finely worked materials adorned with gems; as well as jewelry, precious stones, pearls, and the like: and he didn’t forget a chest holding eight thousand gold coins. He then sent them off, saying, "Take all this to such a house in the Darb al-Zaji and give it to the old woman who owns the hall; when she asks, 'Who sent you?' you will say, 'Your son-in-law;' and if she asks, 'What is his profession?' respond, 'We do not know;' and if she wants to know his name, say, 'Al-Bundukani.'” The porters left and, arriving at the house, knocked at the door. The old woman came out and shouted, "Who is knocking?" They replied, "Open and take what we’ve brought of clothes and other goods." But when she saw the loads, she cried out, "You’ve got the wrong house: how could all this wealth have come to us? Take it back to its owner." They asked her, "Isn't this the hall that was just built today?" When she answered, "Yes," they said, "Then it was your son-in-law who sent us." With this, they went in and set down the loads, but the old woman continued to cry out, "This is not for us: you’ve made a mistake." "It is for you," they insisted, "and your son-in-law says, 'Decorate your house and wear the clothes, and dress whoever you choose; as for him, he has much to take care of but will come to you when people are asleep.'" "Indeed," she thought to herself, "Robbers only come when it’s dark." When the porters went away, the old woman went out to her neighbors, asking them to help her arrange the furniture and dishes; they gathered and entered, and when they saw what had happened, their eyes nearly popped out at the restoration of the hall and the items within. They asked her, "Where did all this come from, and who fixed up your home like this and when? Yesterday it was a ruin, showing neither marble nor plaster nor decoration. Can we be dreaming?" She replied, "This is not a dream; what you see is real: and all this was done by my son-in-law in just one day, and today he also sent me this furniture and other items." "And who is your son-in-law?" they asked, "and when did you marry your daughter without us knowing?" She answered, "All this happened today," and they replied, "What is your son-in-law's profession? Maybe he’s a great merchant or prince." "Neither merchant nor prince," she said, "but a Robber and head of bandits!" The women were alarmed, exclaiming, "By Allah, make sure he doesn't rob us, since we have ties of friendship and neighborly claims on you." "Do not worry," she replied, "he does not take anything from neighbors, though he is a powerful figure amongst the Jinn." Their fears eased, and they began to arrange the furniture and decorations; once they completed organizing the house, they focused on dressing the bride. They brought in a beautician, dressed her in the finest clothes and adorned her with the best jewelry. Just then, other porters arrived carrying crates filled with meat, like pigeon chicks, lamb, and fowl, as well as clarified butter and other cooking supplies, along with various delicacies, sweets, and candies. The porters said to the household, "Here’s what your son-in-law sent you, saying, 'Eat and share with your neighbors and whoever you please.'" The old woman pleaded, "For Allah’s sake, let me know what my son-in-law does for a living and what his name is," and they answered, "His name is Al-Bundukani, but we do not know what his trade is;" and with that, they left. Some of the women present cried out, "By the Prophet, he is nothing but a robber," while others reminded the old lady, "No matter what, before a man who can do all this, everyone in Baghdad is helpless." Soon, they served the food, and all ate their fill, then they cleared away the trays and served sweets, which they also enjoyed. Finally, after sharing the leftovers with the neighbors, they reserved some of the finest meats and sweets for the bridegroom's dinner. Soon, news spread through the neighborhood that the old woman had married her daughter to a robber who had enriched them with his loot. This information spread from person to person until it reached the young merchant who had previously wanted to marry the girl but was turned away by her mother. He learned that the girl had married a robber who had rebuilt the hall with marble, that the plasterers, painters, carpenters, and other craftsmen had performed marvels, and that the groom had sent them priceless items, more than could be counted. Hearing this, he felt sick and envious, and remarked to himself, "There’s nothing left for me but to go to the Wali and tempt him with money to ruin this robber and win the girl for myself." Saying this, he immediately got up and headed straight to the Chief of Police, sharing everything that had happened and promising a large reward, saying, "Everything you want can be obtained from this robber since he has a lot." The Wali was pleased and said, "Be patient until after dinner when the thief comes home, and we will catch him, and you shall take the young lady." The trader thanked him and went home, waiting until dinner time when the streets were empty. Suddenly, Názúk the Wali mounted his horse with four hundred henchmen and foot soldiers, with lanterns and torchbearers, and rode to the old woman's house. The neighbors had all gone home and were dispersed, leaving none behind; but the household had lit wax candles, waiting for the bridegroom with locked doors. Just then, the Chief of Police arrived and, finding all shut, ordered his men to knock softly. Those inside heard the knock, and the old woman quickly jumped up and went to the entrance. From there, she saw the light shining through the door cracks, and when she looked out the window, she saw the Wali and his entourage filling the street. The Chief had a lieutenant by the name of Shamámah, who was known for his bad character and had no love for Muslims, having no moral sense to help conceal the word of Allah. In brief, he was ruthless, 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!"150
"Son of a whore and child of a thousand pagans; * Son of the Road
to lasting sin and doom;
The Lord of Ruth never even gave him a hair * Was not with this
or that of contact willing!"150Now 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 Hasan151—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 bar152 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 Haríms 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: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 ordure154 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 Yúnas: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 mace156 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!"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 ladder158 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 parapet159 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,
Now this man, who was standing beside the Chief of Police, took the chance to say, "O Emir, what good does it do for us to just stand here? It would be better if we break down the door, rush in, take what we want, and loot the stuff in the house." Then another lieutenant came forward, called Hasan—the Handsome—because he had a fair face and even fairer actions, and he was known for his good deeds; he often stood at the Wali's door as a sign of mercy to people. He stepped up and said, "O Emir, this is not the right decision, and that man's words lack wisdom since no one has complained about these folks, and we don’t know if the accused is a thief or not. Furthermore, we worry about the consequences because perhaps this merchant has a motive since they have forbidden him from marrying the girl. So don’t put yourself in harm’s way; instead, let’s investigate the matter openly and publicly. If it turns out as reported, then the Emir's judgment will prevail." All this was overheard by the old woman behind the door. She became paralyzed with fear and rushed inside to inform her daughter about what had happened, ending with, "The Wali is still standing at the door." The young lady was terrified and told her mother, "Please block the entrance until God grants us comfort." So the old woman went out and secured it even more tightly; when they knocked again, she responded, "Who is at the door?" The lieutenant Shamamah answered, "O cursed old woman, you who are companions of thieves, do you not know that the one knocking is the Chief of Police and his men? So open up to us right away." She replied, "We are women and have no men with us, so we will not open to anyone." He said, "Open, or we will break it down." The old woman did not respond but went back to her daughter and said, "Look at this robber and how we've been humiliated because of him since the night began: yet had he fallen into this trap, his life would have been taken, and God forbid he comes now and gets caught by them. If your father were alive, the Wali would never have dared to stand at our door or any other." "Such is our fate," the girl replied, and she went to the window to see what was happening. This is how it went for them; but as for the Caliph, when people had filled the streets, he disguised himself, took his pellet-bow in one hand, and slung his sword over his shoulder, heading out to find his bride. When he reached the end of the street, he saw lanterns and the commotion of the crowd; so he approached to look and saw the Wali and his men with the merchant standing beside the Chief, along with the lieutenants, all but one shouting, "Break down the door, rush in, and capture the old woman! Then we’ll interrogate her with torture until she confesses where her robber son-in-law is." But Hasan, the fourth officer, prevented them, saying, "O good people, fear Almighty Allah and don't be so hasty, for haste brings trouble. They are all women with no men in the house, so don't scare them. And perhaps the son-in-law you seek is not a thief, and then we’ll find ourselves in a situation from which we can't escape without serious trouble." Then Shamamah came up and shouted, "O Hasan, it's inappropriate for you to stand at the Wali's door. It would be better for you to take a seat on the witness bench; for no one should guard a head policeman but those who have abandoned good deeds and indulge in wrongdoing and try to imitate the bad behavior of the public." The Caliph overheard these words and thought to himself, "This is interesting! I will surely bring you joy, O cursed one." He turned and spotted a side street, and one of its houses at the far end was next to the tenement where his bride was. He walked up to it and noticed that its entrance had a curtain drawn across and a lamp hanging, with an Eunuch sitting on the door bench. This was the mansion of a nobleman named Emir Yúnas; he was a fierce and violent man, and on days when he hadn’t beaten someone, he wouldn’t eat breakfast and loathed his food due to his anger. When the Eunuch saw the Caliph, he shouted at him and jumped up to hit him, exclaiming, "Woe to you! Are you crazy? Where are you going?" But the Commander of the Faithful shouted back, "Hey! You cursed slave!" The servant, terrified by the authority of the Caliphate, thought the shout was like a lion ready to pounce, and he ran off, terrified, to his master. "Woe to you!" said his master, "What happened?" He replied, "O my lord, while I was sitting at the gate, suddenly a man walked up the street and entered the house; when I tried to beat him, he yelled at me with a terrifying voice saying, 'Hey, you cursed slave!' So I fled in fear and came to you." When Emir Yunas heard this, he became so furious that he nearly lost his mind, and he shouted, "Since the man called you 'cursed slave,' and you are my servant, I must be cursed too! But I will show him what he deserves!" He sprang to his feet, grabbed a heavy mace studded with fourteen spikes, which could shatter a mountain; then he went out into the street, grumbling, "I, cursed!" But when the Caliph saw him, he recognized him instantly and shouted, "Yunas!" The Emir recognized him by his voice, and throwing the mace aside, he kissed the ground and said, "It's good to see you, O Commander of the Faithful!" Harun replied, "Woe to you, dog! While you are the Chief of the Emirs, does this Wali, the lowliest of men, come to your neighbors, oppress them, and terrify them (and they are women without a man in the house), and you sit quietly at home without confronting him?" The other replied, "O Prince of True Believers, if it weren't for my fear that you would say, 'This is the watchman; why did you act against him?' I would have given him a night he wouldn't forget, both for him and his men. But if you command, I will go right away and smash them to pieces without leaving a single one standing; for what is the worth of this Wali and all his lackeys?" "First, let us into your mansion," said the Commander of the Faithful; so they went inside, and the housemaster wanted to offer his guest hospitality, but he refused all offers and said, "Let’s go up to the terrace roof." So they climbed up and found that between it and the bride's dwelling was only a narrow lane; then the Caliph said, "O Yunas, I want to find a spot from where I can look down at these women." "There’s no other way," Yunas replied, "except from here; and if you want, I will get you a ladder and set it up so that you can cross over." "Do that," the Caliph replied, and the Emir brought a ladder and set it up as a bridge so the Caliph could cross over to the opposite house. Then he said, "Go sit in your spot, and when I need you, I will call." Yunas did as he was told and remained alert for his lord's summons. The Prince of True Believers moved carefully over the terrace roof, trying not to make noise to avoid alarming the occupants, until he reached the parapet, and looking down, he saw a place like the Garden of Paradise, newly decorated, with wax candles and candelabra illuminating the young lady, the bride, sitting on her bed adorned with gems and jewelry. She resembled a sun shining brightly in a clear sky, or a full moon at its peak, with a radiant brow, black and white eyes, and beauty marks fresh and inviting to the sight; she was as beautiful as the poet describes.
"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 Húr al-Ayn160 * 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'!'"
"She's amazing! There's nobody like her in the universe, * For beauty and grace and the softest glow: That fairest of flowers blooms on earth * More radiant than the shiniest gardens. And her cheek feels soft as rose petals to the touch, * Between the gentleness of apples and wild roses. And the way her hair falls over her forehead * Is a death sentence to the World and the Faith; She puts the basil branch to shame * When she strolls through the garden so beautifully and freely. If water could have doubted her soft, sweet walk, * She would have glided over the greenery like water: When she walks this world like the Húr al-Ayn160 * We say to her friends with our gazes:— 'O Seeker, if you sought my heart, * You would have never searched for another's: O lover, though you filled my heart with your love, * You never faced such tyranny among lovers. Praise Him who made her an idol for mankind * And glory to Him who said to her, '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,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?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 vetchling163 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 morselling164 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;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,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 colick167 attacked his entrails and he would have spoken but he could stammer only "Bí, Bí, Bí"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 creditor169 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,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.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 haste172 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,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 accepted174 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 hammered175 and binding round his head a turband of fine gauze with richly embroidered ends made him Chief Lord of the Right176 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?"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 him178 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- name179 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,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!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,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-Rashid183 replied, "May Allah pardon the Past." Presently he sent for the Princess, the daughter of the Chosroë 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.
The Caliph was struck with wonder by her beauty while her mother stood before her, saying, "Oh my child, what will become of us with these tyrants, especially since we are women and have no help except from Allah Almighty? If only I knew where this Robber came from; if your father were alive, he wouldn't have dared to come to the door. But this is the decree of Destiny upon us by God's will." The young lady replied, "Oh mother, how long will you shame me over this young man and call him a 'Robber'? He is what the Almighty has given me, and perhaps if he were a good man and not a thief, he would have been given to someone else. However, he is my fate, and I praise the Lord for what He has bestowed upon me." When the old woman heard this, she said, "I hope to Heaven, my daughter, that your fate doesn't come here tonight. Otherwise, I fear they will capture him and harm him, and woe to his lost youth!" All of this was happening between mother and daughter while the Caliph stood on the terrace roof, listening to them. He picked up a pebble the size of a small pea and, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, flicked it at the candle burning in front of the young lady, extinguishing the light. "Who put out that candle?" cried the old woman. "And why are the others still burning?" Saying this, she stood up to relight it. But Harun aimed again and flicked another pebble, putting the candle out again, causing her to exclaim, "Ah! What could have extinguished this one too?" When the flickering and relighting happened a third time, she exclaimed loudly, "Surely the air must have become very drafty; every time I light a candle, the breeze blows it out." This made the young lady laugh, and as she reached to light the candle a third time, suddenly a pebble struck her finger, making her jump. But as the mother turned towards the terrace wall, she saw her son-in-law sitting there and called to her daughter, "Oh my child, look, your bridegroom is coming to you, but robbers never come in through the door; if he weren't a housebreaker, he would have entered through the door. But thank God he chose the way of our terrace; otherwise, they would have captured him." She added, "Woe to you, oh miserable one! Run away or the patrol at the door will catch you, and we women won’t be able to help you once you fall into their hands; no one will have mercy on you; they will at least cut off one of your limbs. So save yourself and escape to avoid being caught by the watch." But hearing her words, he laughed and said, "Open the terrace gate so I can come down and figure out how to handle these dogs and their pups." She replied, "Woe to you, oh miserable one! Do you think these are like that poor Kazi who feared you enough to cut his gown? The one standing at the door is Nazuk Wali, and do you think you have authority over him as well?" He repeated, "Open to me so I can come down; otherwise, I’ll break down the door." So she unbolted the terrace gate. He descended the stairs and entered the hall, where he sat beside his bride and said, "I'm hungry; what do you have to eat?" The old woman replied, "What food could possibly satisfy you when the police are at the door?" He answered, "Bring me what you have and don’t be afraid." So she got up and served him whatever leftover meat and sweets remained, and he began eating with mouthfuls, sweetening them with soft words until they had eaten enough, after which the mother-in-law took away the tray. Meanwhile, the Chief of Police and his men stood at the door, shouting, "Open up, or we'll break in." Then the Caliph said to the old woman, "Take this seal ring and go to them and put it in the Wali's hands. If he asks you, 'Who owns this signet?' say, 'He is with me.' If he asks, 'What does he want?' reply, 'He wants a ladder of four rungs and its tools, not forgetting a bundle of rods; also, you, go in with four of your lieutenants and see what else he requires.'" When the old woman heard this, she exclaimed, "Does the Wali fear you or this seal ring? My only concern is that they might seize me, throw me in jail, and beat me with such a painful bastinado that it would be the end of me, and they wouldn’t listen to a word I say, nor allow you to help me." The Caliph replied, "Don't worry; he won't be able to oppose my word." She said, "If the Wali fears you and listens to you, then I will prepare myself and let you teach me something about your craft, even if it's robbing slaves' sandals." "Go out without fear," he said, laughing at her words. She took the seal ring and went as far as the door but not beyond, muttering to herself, "I won’t open it fully; just a little to give them the ring; if they listen to what this Robber says, it's fine; otherwise, I will keep the bolt fastened." She approached and asked the guard, "What do you want?" Shamamah replied, "Oh ill-fated old hag, oh jar rider, oh companion of thieves, we want the robber in your house so we can take him and cut off his hand and foot; and then you will see what we will do with you after that." She recoiled at his words, but then steeled herself and said, "Is there anyone among you who can read?" "Yes," said the Wali, and she answered, "Then take this seal ring and see what is engraved on it and what the owner's name might be." "Curse him," cried Lieutenant Shamamah, adding to the Wali, "Oh Emir, as soon as the old crone appears, I will throw her down and give her a severe beating; then let's break down the door, kill her, ransack the house, and capture the robber; after that, I will check the signet and find out who it belongs to, and if this is someone we would be ashamed of, we’ll say, 'Indeed, we hadn’t read its engraving before we rashly acted.'" With that, he approached the door and shouted at her, "Show me what you have, and perhaps this will save you." So she opened one side of the door just enough to stick out her hand and handed him the ring, which he took and passed to the Chief of Police. But when the Wali looked at the ring and read the engraved name (which belonged to the Commander of the Faithful, Harun the Orthodox), his face turned pale, and his limbs trembled with fear. "What is wrong with you?" asked Shamamah, and the Wali replied, "Take a look!" The man took the ring, came to the light, read what was on it, and realized it was the signet of the Vicar of Allah. A wave of panic hit him, and he could barely stammer, "Bí, Bí, Bí," whereupon the Master of Police exclaimed, "The wrath of Allah is upon us, cursed one, you son of a cursed father; all of this is your fault for your dirty dealings and greed: but speak to your creditor and save yourself." Shamamah then said, "Oh my lady, what do you need?" and she thought to herself, "I’m glad they fear my son-in-law." She then said to him, "The lord of the signet demands a ladder of four rungs, a bundle of rods and cords, and a bag containing the necessary tools, as well as the Wali and his four lieutenants to go in to him." He replied, "Oh my lady, chief of this household, where is the owner of the signet?" "He is here seated in the hall," she replied, and the Wali responded, "What did he say to you?" She repeated the command about the Wali and the others carrying the bag, whereupon he asked again where the signet-owner was and said the gear was ready, while they all trembled with fear. Then the Wali and his four lieutenants, including Shamamah the Cursed One, entered the house, and the Caliph ordered Lieutenant Hasan (knowing him to be a kind man, reluctant to harm others, which was evident in his opposition to Shamamah) to go quickly and summon Yunas, the Emir of a thousand. So this lord came in haste and was ordered to give the Wali and Shamamah a severe beating, which he did so passionately that their toenails fell off; after which they were taken away and thrown in jail. The Caliph generously rewarded Lieutenant Hasan and, appointing him as Chief of Police on the spot, dismissed the watch to their barracks. When the street was clear, the old woman returned to the Harem and said to her son-in-law, laughing, "There’s no one in this world like you, the Prince of Robbers! The Wali fears you, the Kazi fears you, and everyone fears you, while I gird my loins to serve you, becoming a female robber among women just as you are a Robber among men. And indeed, as the saying goes, 'A slave is shaped from his lord's clay, and the son resembles his father.' Had the Wali broken down the door and his men rushed in upon us without you present, what would have happened to us? But now, all praise and thanks to Allah!" Hearing this, the Caliph laughed, and sitting beside his bride, who was happy with him, asked his mother-in-law, "Tell me, have you ever seen a Robber handle the Wali and his men this way?" She replied, "Never, by your life, but may Allah Almighty punish the Caliph for what he did to us and make him pay for wronging us; otherwise, who sent you to us, oh Robber?" The Commander of the Faithful thought, "How have I wronged this ill-fated old woman that she curses me?" and he then asked her, "And how has the Caliph harmed you?" She answered, "What has the Caliph left us of livelihood when he raided our home and seized everything we possessed? Even this hall was part of the plunder, and they laid it waste after taking all the marble and carpentry from it; they left us penniless, as you saw, with nothing to cover ourselves or anything to eat. Had it not been that Almighty Allah blessed us with you, oh Robber, we would have perished from hunger." "And why did the Caliph rob you?" he asked, "What caused this?" She responded, "My son was a Chamberlain of the Commander of the Faithful, and one day while he was sitting in our home, two women asked him for a drink of water, which he provided. Soon after, the elder brought him a porcelain plate full of pancakes and informed him that it was sent as a gift from the young lady who had drunk from his hand; he replied, 'Set it down and go away,' which she did. Later, when my son was outside his door, the Watchman came to offer blessings on the occasion of the Greater Festival, and he gave him the plate, and the man went on his way; but before an hour had passed, people came who plundered our house, seized my son, and brought him before the Caliph, who asked him how the plate came into his possession. He told him what I just shared with you, and the Commander of the Faithful asked him, 'Did you see any of the young lady's charms?' My son was about to answer 'No,' but instead, he stammered, 'Yes, I saw her face,' when in truth, he hadn’t seen her at all because when drinking, she had turned to the wall. Upon hearing this unfortunate answer, the Caliph called for the lady and ordered that both should be executed, but in honor of the Festival's eve, he had them imprisoned. Thus is the reason for the wrong the Caliph inflicted, and had it not been for this injustice and his seizing my son, oh Robber, it would have taken a long time for you to marry my daughter." When the Prince of True Believers heard her words, he thought, "Indeed, I have wronged these unfortunate souls," and he asked her, "What would you say if I caused the Caliph to free your son from jail, robe him, return his fiefs to him, promote him to the Chamberlain's office, and bring him back to you tonight?" At this, the old woman laughed and replied, "Silence! This one is no Chief of Police whom you can intimidate into doing whatever you want: this one is the Prince of True Believers, Harun al-Rashid, whose orders are heard both in the East and the West, the lord of armies, whose lowest servant is considered higher in status than the Wali. So do not be deceived by what you have done, nor think of the Caliph as one of these, lest you put yourself in danger of destruction, leaving us unfortunate ones without a man in the house, and my son left unjustly wronged by the one who hurt him." When the Commander of the Faithful heard these words, his eyes filled with tears out of pity for her; then, without delay, he made to leave when the old woman and young lady clung to him, crying, "We beg you, by Almighty Allah, to step back from this matter because we fear greatly for your safety." But he replied, "There is no turning back," and swore that he must go. Then he headed for the palace and, sitting himself upon his throne, summoned the Emirs, Wazirs, and Chamberlains, who gathered before him, kissed the ground, and offered prayers for him, saying, "All is well, if God wills! What is the reason for calling us together at this late hour?" He replied, "I have been contemplating the affair of Alaeddin the Emir, the Chamberlain, how I seized him wrongfully and imprisoned him, yet none of you stood up for him or consoled him with your company." They kissed the ground and said, "Indeed, we were struck with fear at the majesty of the Prince of True Believers; but now, at this hour, we implore the Commander of the Faithful to show mercy to his servant." As they spoke, they uncovered their heads and kissed the floor in humble respect. He said, "I have accepted your intercession for him, and I have decided to grant him pardon; now go to him, robe him in fine clothes, and bring him to me." They obeyed their lord's order and led the young man into the audience chamber, where he kissed the ground and prayed for the Caliph's long rule; the Sovereign welcomed this and dressed him in a coat adorned with plates of gold and tied a fine turban around his head with richly embroidered ends, making him Chief Lord of the Right and telling him, "Now go on back to your home!" He blessed the Prince and left, surrounded by all the Emirs on their proud steeds, while the knights accompanied him in a grand procession with drums and clarions until they reached his house. His mother and sister heard the noise of the crowd and the sound of the drums, asking, "What is happening?" when the messengers of good news pushed ahead of the crowd and knocked at the door saying, "We bring you the sweet tidings: the Caliph has favored Alaeddin the Chamberlain, increasing his fiefs and making him Chief Lord of the Right." They rejoiced greatly and gave the messengers what satisfied them, and while they were celebrating, suddenly Alaeddin the son of the house arrived and entered. His mother and sister embraced him, crying from joy. He sat down and began recounting what had happened, but as he looked around, he saw that the house had been renovated. He asked, "Oh my mother, I was gone only a short time; when was this place made new?" She replied, "Oh my son, the day you were seized, they plundered our home, tearing up the tiles and doors, leaving us with nothing of value: indeed, we spent three days without breaking our fast on anything." When he heard this, he said, "But where did all this come from, these items and vessels? Who rebuilt this house in such a short time? Or am I dreaming?" She answered, "No, this is no dream; it's the absolute truth, and it was all done by my son-in-law in a single day." "And who is my new brother-in-law?" he asked. "When did you marry my sister, and who married her without my consent?" She responded, "Keep quiet, oh my son; if it weren't for him, we would have died of hunger!" "And what is his profession?" the Emir inquired, and she answered, "A Robber!" When her son heard this, he nearly choked with anger and shouted, "What status does this robber have that he can be my brother-in-law? By the tomb of my ancestors, I will definitely kill him!" "Cast aside such thoughts," she cried. "For the damage of another is worse than your own, and nothing he did has harmed a man like the one who achieved all that you see in half a day." Then she recounted what had happened to the Kazi and the Wali and how he had beaten the police, showing him the blood that flowed from their bodies on the floor from the beating. She continued, "Then I complained to him about my situation, how the Commander of the Faithful had seized you and imprisoned you, and he said to me, 'Right now, I will go to the Caliph and make him release your son and allow him to come home, and also to robe him and increase his fiefs.'" Afterward, he departed, and an hour later, behold! You appeared; had it not been for him, we would have never seen you again." When her son heard her words, he was bewildered and confounded at his circumstances and asked her, "What is this man called, and what is his name?" She replied, "We don’t know if he has any name; we asked marble-cutters, master craftsmen, and artisans, but they only told us his nickname is Al-Bundukani without providing any other details. Similarly, when he sent me to find the Kazi, he told me to inform him that Al-Bundukani had summoned him." When the Emir Alaeddin heard the name Al-Bundukani, he recognized it as the Commander of the Faithful, and he couldn't help but spring to his feet, kissing the ground seven times. Seeing this, his mother laughed and said, "Oh, you troublemaker, it’s as if he met you in the street and gave you a drink of a potent concoction! What of your brave words when you said, 'I will strike his neck'?" "Do you know," he replied, "who this person is that you speak of?" She asked, "Who could he be?" "The Commander of the Faithful, the Caliph Harun al-Rashid himself," he exclaimed, "for no one else could have punished the Kazi, the Wali, and done what he did!" When she heard this, her fear grew, and she cried, "Oh my son, hide me away in safety, for he won't allow me to remain on the face of the earth because of all my talk against him; I have never ceased to call him 'Robber.'" While they were speaking, the Commander of the Faithful approached, and Alaeddin stood up, kissed the ground, and blessed him, while the old woman took flight and hid in a closet. The Caliph took his seat and looked around, not seeing his mother-in-law. He asked the Chamberlain, "Where is your parent?" "She is afraid," replied Alaeddin, "and stands in awe of the Caliph's majesty." But Harun replied, "There is no harm in her." He then ordered that she be summoned, and when she came, she kissed the ground and prayed for the longevity of his rule. He said to her, "Once you prepared yourself to assist me in robbing, and now you flee from your teacher?" She blushed with shame and said, "Forgive me, oh Commander of the Faithful," and Harun al-Rashid replied, "May Allah forgive the past." Then he sent for the Princess, the daughter of the Chosroë, and summoned the Kazi, who immediately divorced her and married her to Alaeddin, his Chamberlain. This led to bride feasts that brought together all the lords of the Empire and the notable figures of Baghdad. Tables and dishes of food were laid out for three consecutive days for the needy and the poor. The two bridegrooms paid a visit to their wives on the same night, enjoying their companionship and completing their lives with immense joy. They lived happily ever after until the time came when the Destroyer of delights and Separator of companions appeared, and all passed away.
So praise be to the Ever-Living who dieth not!
So praise be to the Ever-Living who does not die!
Such is the tale which came down to us
in completion and perfection,
and glory be to God, the
Lord of the three Worlds.
AMEN.
M.
This is the story that has been passed down to us
in its entirety and perfection,
and praise be to God, the
Lord of the three Worlds.
AMEN.
M.
THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA AND THE KING'S SON.
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 Roum187 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,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,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;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,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'ála—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."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,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! fear194 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 Tarjumánah, 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,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 Tarjumánah 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 Tarjumánah, 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!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."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 Rod198 of Moses the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!) which, when a living branch199 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 host200 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 Jánn-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,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,202 the second was Elias203 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."204 She said, "Inform me concerning the Nákús, or the Gong,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 Tarjumánah 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 Tarjumánah, 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,206 and both, at the end of time, will be brought out by a man hight Al-Násirí.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.'"208 She enquired, "Tell me concerning the Asáfír,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 Fír, 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 Fír 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 Fír?" and they answered, "O our lord, 'Asá Fír,'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."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 Tarjumánah 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 prayer212 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 Prophet213 (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 habit214 of Adam in Paradise?" and he answered saying, "Adam's habit in Eden was his flowing hair."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?'"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'hák217 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 gatherest218 me and keepest my covenant: so take thou yonder rain and slay it as a victim in the stead of Is'hák.' 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 fighting219 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 Jerusalem220 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!"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 Tarjumánah 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;222 so he mounted his father and clothed him with his mother223 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."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 Tarjumánah 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 Tarjumánah 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 backwards225 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."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;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 Tarjumánah 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 Cohen228 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.229
It is said (but Allah knows all about the histories of past peoples) that in a city of Roum187 there was a King of high rank and great dignity, a lord of power and might. This Sovereign had no children, so he continually prayed to Allah Almighty for the blessing of a child. Soon after, the Lord took pity on him and granted him a son. He had the young Prince cared for with the utmost attention and ensured he was educated in every field of knowledge, including the divine teachings of wisdom, morals, and manners; there was nothing of beneficial learning that the Youth wasn’t taught, and the King spent a fortune on this education. As time passed and the Youth grew up, the Sovereign found himself distressed and confused about his situation, unsure of what to do. Eventually, his son gained the courage to guide him and asked, "O my father, will you listen to what I have to say?" "Speak," said the King, "if you have wise advice." The youth replied, "Get up, my father, and let’s leave this city before anyone notices we are gone; this way we will find peace and escape the poverty closing in on us. There is no way for us to earn a living here, and we are in the most miserable condition that could be." "O my child," the father replied, "your advice is excellent, my pious and dutiful son; let’s leave it to Allah and you." The Youth then prepared everything, and one night, without anyone knowing, he took his father and mother away from home. They wandered through the wilderness until they finally arrived at a large, beautiful city, where they settled down. The young Prince set off to explore the streets and enjoy himself, asking about the city and its ruler. They informed him, "This is the capital of a Sultan, just and highly respected among kings." When he returned to his parents, he said, "I want to sell you as slaves to this Sultan, 188 what do you think?" They replied, "We have entrusted our fate to Allah Almighty and then to you, our son; do as you wish and deem best." The Prince then went to the Palace, asked permission to enter, and upon receiving it, he made his bow before the King. When the Sultan saw him, he recognized him as someone noble and asked, "What do you need, young man?" The Prince responded, "O my lord, I am a merchant, and I have a male captive who is skilled and pious, a model of honesty and respect; I also have a beautiful bondswoman who is well-mannered and fully trained for whatever you might require of a servant. I want to sell them to Your Highness; they are at your disposal, and we all three are your property." When the King heard this, he said, "Where are they? Fetch them here so I can see them; if they are as you say, I will buy them!" The Prince then went back to inform his parents of this offer and said, "Get up with me so I can sell you and take the price from this Sultan, 189 with which I will travel to foreign lands to earn enough wealth to redeem and free you when I return. We will use the rest for our needs." "O our son," they said, "do what you think is best." Soon, 190 the parents got up and prepared to accompany him, and the Youth led them before the Sultan, where they made their bow. Upon seeing them, the King marveled and asked, "Are you two slaves to this young man?" They replied, "Yes, O our Lord." The King turned to the Youth and asked, "What price do you require for them?" The Prince replied, "O my lord, for the male slave, I want a saddled and bridled mare that is fully equipped with weapons and gear; 191 and for the bondswoman, I want a complete and fine set of clothes." The Sultan ordered him to be paid all he asked, plus he gave him an extra hundred dinars, and the Youth, having received everything and the tokens of royal generosity, kissed the King's hands and bid farewell to his parents. Then he set off to travel, seeking good fortune from Allah, unaware of where he would go. While on his journey, he encountered a horseman, 192 and after greetings, the stranger was impressed by the King's son’s politeness and eloquence. He pulled out a sealed letter wrapped in a cloth and gave it to the Youth, saying, "Truly, my brother, my heart has grown fond of you because of your good manners and the elegance of your speech, and now I want to help you with this letter." "What good can come of it?" the Prince asked. The horseman replied, "Take this letter and when you reach the court of the King you are heading to, give it to him; through it, you will gain much success and great benefit and will be honored there. This document (which my teacher gave me) has already provided me with plenty and immense profit, and I am giving it to you because of your elegance and good breeding." The Youth, who was the King’s son, responded, "May Allah reward you with good and grant you your wishes," and he accepted the letter with good intentions, thinking, "If it is the will of God, I will find good fortune from this letter; then I will go and free my parents." He continued on his path, feeling satisfied especially for having received the document, which promised him great benefits. Soon, he became desperately thirsty with no water in sight, and the agony of thirst made him feel he might die. He looked at the mare he rode and saw she was sweating profusely, unlike her usual state. Dismounting, he took the letter from its wrapping, wiped the mare’s sweat with it, squeezed it into a cup, and drank it, feeling unusually pleased that it provided some relief. Delighted with the letter, he thought, "I wish I knew what’s inside and how the profit the horseman spoke of will come to me. Let me open it and see its contents so my heart may be content and my soul may rejoice." He did as he resolved and read its message, understanding its meaning and the secret it contained. It stated, "O my lord, when the one who brings this letter arrives, kill him without delay; leave him not a moment alive; for this Youth came to me and I treated him with great honor. In return, this traitor betrayed me through a daughter connected to me. I feared to kill him lest I bring shame upon myself among the people, so I sent him to you so you can torture him in various ways and end his life, thus saving us from the disgrace he caused." Upon reading this letter and comprehending its contents, the young Prince suspected it wasn’t meant for him and pondered, saying, "I wish I knew what I have done to this horseman, who seeks to end my life. This man traveled alone without a daughter and I had no improper interaction with him. This situation must have one of two explanations; first, either misfortune truly befell him from someone who favored me and he mistook me for that person, or secondly, this is a trial sent by Allah. Praise be to the Most High who guided me to open this letter. In any case, I thank the Almighty and praise Him for saving me from the danger that was about to befall me." Then the young Prince continued on through the wildest lands until he entered an impressive city and, after renting a room in a Khan, 193 he dismounted there. After tying up his mare and feeding her, he went to explore the streets. Suddenly, he was approached by an elderly woman who saw him as a handsome and tall young man, his prosperity evident in his demeanor. He asked her about the city's people and their situation, to which the old woman replied, "Here in our city, there is a King of great respect, and he has a very beautiful daughter, indeed the loveliest of her time. She has declared that she will not marry any man unless he can defeat her in debates and answer all her questions; if he wins, he will marry her, but if he fails, she will behead him, and she has done this to ninety-nine noblemen and sons of kings. Additionally, she has built a towering castle overlooking the city where she can see all who pass by." As soon as the young Prince heard these words, he fell in love with the King's daughter and spent what felt like the longest night waiting for morning. When dawn finally broke, he quickly saddled his mare, rode towards the princess's palace, and stood at the gate. Everyone present noticed him and asked, "What brings you here?" He answered, "I wish to speak with the Princess." When they heard this, they all tried to persuade him with kind words, warning him, "O young man! Fear Allah and take care of yourself; don't dare seek an audience with this Princess, for she has killed eighty-nine men of noble birth; for you, we fear you'll make it ninety." Nevertheless, the Prince would not listen to them and remained at the palace gate. Eventually, he asked to be admitted to see the King's daughter, but she refused, sending her linguist to speak with him instead. The linguist said, "O handsome youth! Are you prepared to face dangers and difficulties?" He replied, "I am." "Then,” she said, “you should go to the King, the father of the Princess, introduce yourself, and explain your purpose. After that, you must testify before the Kazi that if you conquer his daughter and she fails to answer one of your questions, you will marry her; whereas if she defeats you, she will cut off your head 194 just as she has done with many before you. Once you’ve done this, come back to us." The Prince immediately went to the King and did as instructed, then returned to the linguist who took him to the Princess. She had a silk cushion brought for him to sit on, and they began exchanging questions and answers in front of a large audience. The linguist began, saying, "O Youth! My mistress asks you to tell her about a moving tomb whose inhabitant is alive." He answered, "The moving tomb is the whale that swallowed Yunus (may peace be upon him); the Prophet was alive within the belly of the whale." She continued, "Tell me about two fighters who combat each other but not with hands or feet, and who never speak." He replied, "The bull and buffalo who ram into one another with their horns." She followed with, "Identify a piece of land that saw the sun only once and never again." He answered, "This is the sole of the Red Sea when Musa (may peace be upon him) struck it with his staff and parted it for the Children of Israel to cross on dry ground, which was witnessed only once." She asked him, "Speak about something that drinks water during its life and eats meat after dying." He said, "That would be the staff of Musa (may peace be upon him) which, while alive, drew water and only died when it was severed from the tree." She continued, "Tell me of something that is neither man, nor jinn, nor beast, nor bird." He replied, "What you speak of could refer to what Solomon mentioned, that is the louse and the ant." She questioned him, "Explain why Allah created the creation, what wisdom is there in bringing about death followed by resurrection, and then rendering men accountable?" He answered, "God created all creatures so they could witness His handiwork; He caused them to die so they could behold His absolute power; He resurrected them to demonstrate His omnipotence, and He mandated their accountability to show His wisdom and justice." She inquired, "Tell me about three things: the first was born without a father or mother yet died; the second was born of a father and mother yet didn’t die, and the third was born of a father and mother yet did not die by human death?" He answered, "The first refers to Adam and Eve; 195 the second is Elias, the Prophet; while the third is Lot's wife, who did not die a normal death because she was turned into a pillar of salt." She asked, "Tell me of someone who had two names in this world." He replied, "That would be Yaqub, the father of the Twelve Tribes, whom Allah honored with the name of Israel, meaning Man with El, or God." 196 She then asked, "What is the Nákús or Gong, who invented it, and when was it first struck in this world?" He responded, "The Gong was invented by Noah, who first sounded it in the Ark." After this, she continued to question him and he continued to answer until evening fell, when she told the linguist, "Tell the young man he may now leave and come back tomorrow morning, at which point if I conquer him, I will serve him the drink from the cup his fellow suitors drained; and if he conquers me, I will become his wife." The linguist conveyed her message, and the Prince left with excitement and spent what felt like the longest night, hardly believing morning would come. When dawn broke and the daylight shone upon everyone, he rose and made his way back to the palace. Upon arrival, the Princess ordered him to be seated. Soon after, she instructed her linguist to ask him, "What is a thing that if a man does, it is unlawful, and if he does not, it is also unlawful?" He answered, "That is the prayer197 of a drunk man, which is illegal in either case." She asked, "What is the distance between Heaven and Earth?" He replied, "That is bridged by the prayer of Musa (may peace be upon him), whom Allah saved." She continued, "How far is it from East to West?" He stated, "The distance of a day as the sun travels from East to West." Next, she inquired, "What was Adam’s habit in Paradise?" He replied, "Adam's habit in Eden was his flowing hair." 198 She then asked about Ibrahim the Friend (may peace be upon him), "How did Allah choose him and call him 'Friend'?" He answered, "Allah wished to test him despite knowing that he was strong-willed and capable of enduring trials; this was to affirm for mankind the truth of His servant's faith in the Almighty. So, He commanded him to offer his son Is’hák 199 as a sacrifice. Showing his trust in Allah, he was ready to slaughter his son. But just as he was about to bring down the knife, Allah spoke and revealed, 'Now I know that you hold to My covenant; take that ram and sacrifice it instead of Is’hák.' Thereupon, He entitled him 'Friend.'” She asked about the Children of Israel, "How many were there when they left Egypt?" He replied, "When they left Misraim, they numbered six hundred thousand fighting men, besides women and children." She followed up with, "Point out to me a place on earth that is higher than Heaven." He answered, "That is Jerusalem 200 the exalted, which stands above the firmament." Then the Prince turned to the linguist and said, "O my lady, our discussions have been long, and if your mistress wishes to ask me questions forever, I can answer them all with the might of Allah. However, instead, I would like to pose my own question for the Princess; if she can answer it, I shall drink from the cup of those she has defeated; if she cannot, she will accept defeat and become my wife—and may peace be upon her!" 201 This was said in front of a vast audience, both great and small; the linguist responded, "Do tell, O Youth, what it is you desire." He replied, "Inform your lady to enlighten me on something that falls under this description: he was born and raised in the utmost of prosperity, but time turned against him and poverty mistreated him; 202 then he mounted his father and clothed his mother 203 and set off to seek comfort and happiness from Allah. Suddenly, Death met him on his journey and misfortune shadowed him, and his steed saved him from ruin when he drank water not found in the sky or the earth. Now see if you can identify who that man might be and give me the answer." 204 When the Princess heard this question, she was bewildered and puzzled about how to respond in front of a crowd, and nothing seemed to work but to ask the linguist, "Send this Youth away until tomorrow." The linguist did as instructed, adding, "Tomorrow will be nothing but well!" The Prince left with the crowd astonished at the question he posed to the Princess. After he exited, she instructed her servant to prepare a variety of delicious dishes and the finest fruits, both fresh and dried, and to fill a skin bottle with good wine. She then changed into her finest attire, taking her Duenna and some of her maidens with her, and set out to the Youth's quarters, arriving at night. When she reached the Khan, she told her guardian, "Go in to him alone while I hide behind the door. Sit between his hands.” She instructed the old woman on how to scheme and deceive. The servant entered, greeted the young man with peace, and took a seat before him, saying, "O Youth! Truly, there is a beautiful maiden here, delightful and exquisite in qualities, the likes of whom can hardly be found in her age—so extraordinary she could cause the sun to reverse its course 205 and light the universe in its place. When you used to visit us in the Princess’s quarters, she saw you and found you handsome; thus, her heart was overtaken by love for you, desiring you greatly. She insisted on coming with me and now stands at your door longing to enter. Allow her in so she may join you and retire somewhere to serve you as your humble servant.” 206 The Prince responded, "Whoever seeks us may enter and be welcomed with good fortune!" The Princess entered with all her attendants. After they sat down, they brought out a feast comprised of all the foods and drinks they had, and the gathering enjoyed eating, drinking, and cheerful conversation, interspersed with laughter. The Princess made it her aim to flirt with the prince, believing he didn’t recognize her as the King's daughter. He too enjoyed her company, and they continued to indulge in feasting and joy. However, the Duenna kept pouring wine for the Prince until he grew drunk and, in his drunkenness, sought the servant's company, but she refused him and asked him about the riddle he posed to her mistress. Due to drunkenness, he was unable to provide a coherent response. At this point, the Princess reclined on a cushion, and amid his intoxication and desire, he regained his speech and explained to her how he would solve her riddle. The King's daughter rejoiced with overwhelming joy as if she had won the entire world; 207 quickly getting to her feet in delight, she wouldn’t wait to complete her enjoyment with her suitor, and before dawn arrived, she left and returned to her palace. In her haste, she forgot her outer robes and much of what remained of their food and drink. The Prince, feeling drowsy, fell asleep, and when he awoke at dawn, he found no one around. He noticed royal garments—beautiful and costly, including brocade, fine fabrics, and numerous jewels—and scattered around were remnants of the food and drink they had shared. From the signs of their visit, he realized that the King’s daughter had indeed come to him and used her cunning to extract the answer to her question. The next morning, he went to the palace of the Princess, where the linguist greeted him and said, "O Youth, do you want me to tell you my lady's interpretation of the riddle you proposed yesterday?" He replied, "I will tell the truth; let me recount what happened after I last saw you. When I left, a beautiful bird appeared before me—charming and captivating, and I honored her greatly. We dined together, but at night, she shook her feathers and flew away. If she denies this, I can produce her plumage as proof before her father and anyone else present." When the King, the father of the Princess, heard that the Youth had not only conquered her in their contest but that she had visited him to extract the answer to her unanswered riddle, he summoned the Cohen 208 and the lords of his land, the Grandees of his realm, and the Notables of his kin. Once all were gathered, he recounted the entire story from beginning to end, explaining the conditions he set for the Youth—that if he lost to his daughter and could not respond to her queries, it would mean a drink from the cup of destruction, while if he won, he would claim her as his wife. He concluded that the Youth had answered all questions thoroughly and without hesitation, ultimately posing his own riddle that she could not solve, thereby defeating her twice (he answered while she could not). "For this reason," concluded the King, "it is only just that he marries her; just as was agreed upon between them, it is our duty to sanction this. Let us proceed to write his marriage contract." They all agreed, saying, "This is just and fitting; the Youth is well-suited for her, and she for him; their union is destined." They then prepared the marriage contract, and the Cohen, rising, declared the union auspicious and began to bless the couple, praying for them and everyone present. Eventually, the Prince entered the chamber and consummated the marriage according to Allah's Law; afterward, he shared with his bride all that had transpired, particularly how he had sold his parents to one of the Kings. Upon hearing this, she felt sympathy for his plight, comforting him, "Be of good cheer and keep your heart light." After a while, the Princess gifted her husband a large sum of money so he could go and free his parents. Accepting her generous offer, he sought the King to whom he had sold his parents, who were still in good health. Upon entering, he bowed and kissed the ground, recounting the entire story and the conditions of death or marriage he had made with the King's daughter, and how he had married her after overcoming her. The monarch honored him with great respect, more than he ever could expect. When the Prince handed him the money, the King asked, "What is this money?" "The price of my parents, which you paid to me," the Prince replied. "But I did not pay you in money for your parents," the King exclaimed. "I have given you much more than the value of your father and mother. I merely gifted you a mare and clothes as a token of goodwill, not as settling a debt. Thank Allah, who preserved you and enabled you to achieve your desires; now go take your parents back and return safely to your bride." The Prince expressed his gratitude, praising Allah for the royal generosity and kindness he received. After being granted permission, he wished the King well, took his father and mother, and set off with them, filled with joy and gratitude for all the blessings provided by Allah, until he arrived back at his bride's side. He found that during his absence, his father-in-law had passed away, so he took his place on the throne. The Prince and his wife enjoyed a life of health and happiness, sharing meals and joys and observing the bounds of Allah’s Holy Law until they eventually departed this world to the safety of their Lord God. And this concludes the tale of the Youth, the King’s son, the sale of his parents, and how he fell into the snares of the Princess, who insisted on testing all her suitors with riddles, proclaiming that failure would lead to their demise, and ultimately how she was outmatched by this youth, whom Allah blessed with wisdom to solve all her challenges, and who bested her with a question she could not answer; when his father-in-law passed away, he assumed the kingship, ruling wisely.209
NOTE TO P. 82.]
The Músà (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 water230 (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 Ægyptus, evidently white leprosy ending in the black, assures us that it was "natural to the Ægyptians," adding a very improbable detail, namely that the kings cured it by balneæ (baths) of human blood.231
The Músà (Moses) in Islam is taken from Jewish sources, specifically the Pentateuch and the Talmud, with a touch of Gnosticism that is hinted at in the Quran (chapter 18) and explored by later writers, portraying him as the "external" man, while Khizr, the Green prophet, represents the internal. However, they completely overlook Manetho, whose account of the Jewish legislator (Josephus against Apion, i. cc. 26, 27) reveals the other, or Egyptian, perspective. Moses, whose name in this context is Osarsiph=Osiris-Sapi, Osiris of the underworld (which some interpret as rich, Osii, in food, Siph, Seph, or Zef), was nicknamed Mosheh from the Hebrew Mashah=to draw out, because he was drawn from the water—(or more accurately from the Coptic Mo=water ushe=saved). He became a priest at An or On (Heliopolis) after learning about Egyptian knowledge. Eventually, he was chosen as the leader by the "lepers and other unclean individuals" who had been allowed by King Amenophis to inhabit the city of Avaris, which had recently been deserted by the "Shepherd Kings." Osarsiph established the governance and laws for his followers, banning them from worshipping the Egyptian gods and commanding them to kill and sacrifice the sacred animals. They were joined by the "unclean Egyptians" and their relatives among the Shepherds, treating the locals with a brutality worse than that of the latter, setting fire to cities and villages, expelling the Egyptian priests and prophets from their land, and forcing Amenophis to retreat to Ethiopia. After several years of chaos, Sethos (also known as Ramesses, after his father Rampses), son of Amenophis, came down with the King from Ethiopia, leading a large unified force, and confronting the Shepherds and the unclean people. They defeated them, killed many, and chased the rest to the borders of Syria. Josephus recounts this story from Manetho, which seems to be truthful, with significant indignation. The widespread occurrence of leprosy is corroborated by the Hebrews themselves, and Pliny (xxvi. 2), speaking of Rubor Ægyptus, clearly referring to white leprosy leading to black, asserts that it was "natural to the Egyptians," while adding a rather unlikely detail that the kings cured it through baths of human blood.
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.
Schiller (in "Die Sendung Moses") argues that the mission of the Jewish lawgiver, adopted as the son (or maybe the real son?) of Pharaoh's daughter, became "learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians" by getting the priestly education of the royal princes. He advanced through the religious mysteries, reaching the highest levels where the essential truth of the One Supreme, the all-knowing, all-powerful God was revealed as the ultimate peak of human knowledge. This suggests that Moses, before his flight into Midian, had an almost modern understanding of a fundamentally human-like God.
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 nation.
Furthermore, his main goal when he returned to Egypt was not just to free his people from the oppression of the Egyptians, but to reveal this great idea to them, elevating the group of slaves to the status of a nation, where every member would understand the deepest mysteries of religion and where their institutions would be based on it. It's surprising that Schiller accepted Manetho's fables as history and didn’t realize that the Egyptian priest wrote out of personal spite and jealousy, aiming to tarnish Ptolemy's view of the educated Jews he was friends with. As a result, he not only buys into the story that the Hebrews were forced out of Egypt due to the widespread leprosy among them, but also elaborates extensively on why that dreadful and disgusting disease was so prevalent. Nonetheless, Schiller's essay, written in his own charming style, is a magnificent tribute to the founder of the Hebrew nation.
Goethe ("Israel in der Wüste"), 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.
Goethe ("Israel in der Wüste"), on the other hand, with curious cleverness, twists everything against the "headstrong man" Moses, except that he does give him a strong sense of justice. He portrays him as both a grand, strong man by nature and upbringing, but also brutal. His killing of the Egyptian is depicted as a secret murder; "his fearless fist earns him the favor of a Midianite priest-prince . . . . under the guise of a general festival, gold and silver dishes are swindled (by the Jews under Moses's direction) from their neighbors, and at the moment when the Egyptians think the Israelites are engaged in harmless feasting, a reversed Sicilian vesper is carried out; the outsider murders the local, the guest the host; and, with chilling cunning, only the first-born are destroyed so that, in a land where the first-born had such superior rights, the selfishness of the younger sons could come into play, allowing for an escape from swift punishment. The trick works, the assassins are expelled instead of being punished." (Quoted from pp. 99-100 "The Hebrews and the Red Sea," by Alexander W. Thayer; Andover, Warren F. Draper, 1883.) Regarding the census of the Exodus, my friend Mr. Thayer, who has studied the topic extensively and carefully, generously provided me with the following notes and allowed their publication.
Trieste, October 11, 1887.
Trieste, Oct 11, 1887.
My Dear Sir Richard,
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, these:
The points I made in our conversation about the Hebrews and their Exodus, which you asked me to put in writing, are summarized as follows:
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:
Assuming that the Hebrew records we have are mostly accurate, meaning they are historical, a thorough investigation should reveal one topic where all the related passages agree at least somewhat. This topic is the genealogies, which is exactly what the renowned Jewish Rabbi Philippsohn, Dr. Robinson from the Palestine research, and all the Jewish and Christian commentators—none that I know of disagree—unanimously reject! Take a look at these two columns: A contains the passages with the genealogies, while B lists the passages that provide the basis for rejecting them:
A.
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).
A.
1. Genesis 24:32 to 25:25 (Births of Jacob's sons).
2. 35:23-26 (Recap of the above).
3. 46:8-27 (List of Jacob and his sons when they entered Egypt).
4. Exodus 6:14-27 (Lineage of Aaron and Moses).
5. Numbers 36:1-2 (Lineage of Zelophehad).
6. Joshua 7:17-18 (Lineage of Achan).
7. Ruth 4:18-22 (Lineage of David).
8. 1 Chronicles 2:9-15 (Lineage of David).
9. Matthew 1:2-6 (Lineage of David).
10. Luke 3:32-37 (Lineage of David).
11. Ezra 7:1-5 (Lineage 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.
The lists of princes, tribe leaders, spies, and the commission to divide conquered Palestine feature names that can be traced back, all of which align with what was mentioned above.
B.
1. Gen. xv. 13.
2. Ex. xii. 40, 41.
3. Acts vii. 6.
B.
1. Gen. 15:13.
2. Ex. 12:40, 41.
3. Acts 7:6.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).
These three provide the 400 and the 430 years of the supposed captivity of the Bene Jacob, but this is balanced by Gen. xv. 16 (four generations) and Gal. iii. 17 (Paul's interpretation 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.
4. The story of Joseph, starting in Gen. xxxvii. 2, outlines the dates in his life: he was 17 when sold, 30 when he became Prime Minister, and 40 when his father joined him.
5. 1 Chron. vi. 1-15 (Lineage of Ezra's brother Jehozadak, abounding in repetitions and worthless).
5. 1 Chron. vi. 1-15 (Lineage of Ezra's brother Jehozadak, full of repetitions and meaningless).
1. As between the two, the column A. is in my opinion more trustworthy than B.
1. Between the two, I think column A is more reliable than B.
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.
2. According to all the family trees of the Davidian line, we have Judah No. 1, Solomon No. 12. Based on Ezra's genealogy of his own family, we have Levi No. 1, and Azariah (Solomon's High Priest) No. 12. They match 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 absurdum!
3. If there were 400 years of Hebrew (Bene Jacob) slavery between the death of Joseph and the Exodus, then there were 400 - 80 = 320 years between Joseph's death and the birth of Moses. If that’s the case, then the claims about Moses and Aaron being the great-grandchildren of Levi (Levi, Kohath, Amram, Aaron, and Moses) aren’t accurate. In fact, if Dr. Robinson is right in stating that at least six generations are missing in the genealogies of David (to account for the 400 years), the same gaps must exist in all the early genealogies. This leads to an absurd conclusion!
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.
4. Jacob, a young man of about 40, goes to Laban to find a wife. He stays in Padan Aram for twenty years (Gen. xxxi. 38), during which all of his sons except Benjamin are born, meaning before he turns 60. At 130, he reunites with Joseph in Egypt (Gen. xlvii. 9). Joseph, therefore, who was born in Padan Aram, is now over 70 instead of 40! This is definitely the case. In Judah’s heartfelt pleas (Gen. xliv. 18-34), he refers to Benjamin as "the child of Jacob's old age," "a little one," and he calls him "the lad" seven times. Benjamin is a few years younger than Joseph, but when they move to Egypt—a few weeks after Judah's speech—Benjamin arrives as the father of ten sons (Gen. xlvi. 21). Here, "Bene Benjamin" is used broadly to mean "descendants," since in 1 Chron. vii. 6-12, "Bene" refers to sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons. To believe that Joseph at 40 had a younger brother who was already a great-grandfather is, of course, completely ridiculous.
5. According to Gen. xv. 18, the Exodus was to take place in the fourth generation born in Egypt, as I understand it.
5. According to Gen. xv. 18, the Exodus was supposed to happen in the fourth generation born in Egypt, as I see it.
Born in Egypt:—
Born in Egypt:—
Levi (father of) Kohath Judah (father of) Pharez Hezron 1. Amram 1. Ram 2. Aaron 2. Amminadab 3. Eleazar 3. Nahshon 4. Phinees 4. Salma
Levi (father of) Kohath Judah (father of) Pharez Hezron 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.
A prominent figure in Numbers (xiii. 6, 30; xiv. 24, etc.) is Caleb. In the first chapter of Judges, Caleb is still mentioned, and Othniel, the son of his younger brother Kenaz, is the first of the so-called Judges (Jud. iii. 9). This also resolves the 400 years and supports the idea that the Exodus happened in the fourth generation born in Egypt. Other similar evidence can be set aside—this is more than enough.
6. What, then, was the origin of the notion of the 400 years of Hebrew slavery?
6. So, where did the idea of the 400 years of Hebrew slavery come from?
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.
If the Egyptian inscriptions and papyri demonstrate anything, it's this: from the conquest of Palestine by one of the Thormes up to the major invasion of the hordes from Asia Minor during the reign of Ramses III, that region always remained a Pharaonic province. Throughout these four or five centuries, every effort to shake off the oppression was crushed, and its Semitic peoples were deported to Egypt as slaves. Many of them participated in the Exodus with Moses and were integrated with the Hebrews under the laws and constitution established at Horeb (=Sinai? or Jebel Araif?). These individuals became the "Seed of Abraham" and the "Children of Israel" by adoption, which I believe Paul references in the "adoption" mentioned in Romans viii. 15-23; ix. 4; Gal. iv. 5; Eph. i. 5. Over the years, the distinction between Bene Israel and Bene Jacob faded, which is why the rather uncritical Masorites in their version of the Old Testament "muddled the confusion" on this issue. With the loss of the 400 years and the supposed two or three centuries covered by the book of Judges, the genealogies remain factual. The error regarding the Judges lies in assuming they were consecutive when, in reality, since the subjugations by neighboring peoples were local and affected only one or two tribes, several of them may have occurred simultaneously.
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.
7. Aaron and Moses were by their father Amram, great-grandchildren of Levi—through 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.
8. There is one point where the Hebrew and Egyptian timelines match up. It’s the invasion of Judea by Shishak of Egypt in the fifth year of Rehoboam, son of Solomon (1 Kings xiv. 25). If we assume the Egyptian timeline from the time of Minephtah II is mostly accurate, as stated by Brugsch and others, the thirteen generations from Judah to Rehoboam, with three generations per century, bring us right back to Minephtah. During his reign, according to Brugsch, Pharaoh sent food supplies to the Chittim during "the time of famine." The Hebrew records and traditions link Joseph's time as a prime minister with a famine. Based on the genealogies, it could only refer to this famine during Minephtah's time.
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.
9. The Bene Jacob were just temporary residents in Goshen and always planned 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 plan was carried out, a massive invasion hit all of Palestine during the time of Ramses III. This presented the Bene Jacob with the chance to expand their plans and consider the conquest and ownership of Palestine. According to Josephus, supported by Stephen (Acts vii. 22), Moses was a man "mighty in works"—a man known for his military reputation. The most logical way to understand the beginning of the Exodus story is to assume that, during Ramses III's weakened state, the Hebrew princes began to conspire with the enslaved Semites—the Ruthenu of the Egyptian inscriptions—and when this was discovered by the Pharaoh, Moses had to flee. Meanwhile, the conspiracies continued, and when the time for action arrived, under one of Ramses' weaker successors, Moses was summoned back 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.
10. This sets us up for your second question about the number of people who participated 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?
The Masoretic text, which the English version of the Hebrew records is based on, shows the census result at Sinai (also known as Horeb) as 603,550 men, "twenty years and older, who were able to go to war in Israel"—excluding the tribe of Levi. From this, it has often been stated that the number of the Bene Israel at the Exodus was three million. Recently, however, two million has become the accepted figure. The ridiculousness of even this total is obvious. How could such a massive crowd be fed? How were they kept in order? How could they be made to follow sanitation rules? Additionally, considering Egypt's weakened condition at the time, why wouldn't 603,550 armed men have just marched out without any formalities? Why request permission to go 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.
But there are other objections to these two million that I've never seen mentioned or even suggested, and I'd like to draw your attention to them.
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.
The area of Palestine is similar in size to the three American states of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, which are the most densely populated in the Union, holding a population of just under two and a half million according to the latest census.
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.
By the second Hebrew census (Numb. xxvi.) taken just before Moses died, the army numbered 601,730. From this, it's often concluded that at least 2,000,000 people in total, excluding the 23,000 males among the Levites, entered and settled in the conquered lands.
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.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.
Take one of the recent maps of Palestine and mark the boundaries of the tribes as laid out in the book of Joshua. This second census provides the number of each tribal army that should be noted in each tribal area: Reuben, 43,750; Judah, 76,500; Benjamin, 45,600, and so on. According to Josh. xii, the land was then divided among about 40 small kings and groups, with 31 named as being conquered. If Joshua's army counted more than 600,000, why wasn't the conquest completed? Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut are divided into 27 counties. If these counties were fully independent little kingdoms relying on themselves for defense, what kind of resistance could they put up against an army of 600,000 men, all seasoned after forty years of life in a camp and in the peak of manhood? Yet, Joshua couldn't finish his conquest! Furthermore, the first subjugation of part of the newly-conquered territory noted in the book of Judges was by a king of Edom over Judah and Simeon. If Judah could field an army of 76,500 and Simeon 22,500, their defeat by a king of Edom is hard to believe, and the story seems ridiculous. Next, King Eglon of Moab conquers the tribes of Reuben and Gad, east of the Dead Sea and the Jordan. 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.
With just an army of 60,000 and a total of half a million people brought out of Egypt, the entire history makes perfect sense and is reliable.
There remains one more bubble to be exploded.
There’s still one more bubble to pop.
Look at these figures, in which a quadruple increase—at least 25 per centum too great—is granted.233
Look at these figures, which show a fourfold increase—at least 25 percent too high—is allowed.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
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
Total . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,020
Minus 25 percent 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.
But Jacob and his sons brought along herdsmen, shepherds, servants, etc. Bunsen estimates the total number of everyone, including masters and men, at under 2,000.
Let the proportion in this case be one able-bodied man in four persons, and the increase triple.
Let the ratio in this case be one able-bodied man for every four people, and the increase be three times.
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
20,000
Minus 25 per centum as above . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5,000
15,000
Add the real Bene Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .765
Aggregate. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15,765
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
20,000
Minus 25 percent as above . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5,000
15,000
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?
Were these people, while Joseph was still alive, the subjects of slavery as described in Ex. i.? Did they build Pithom and Ramses, storage 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 Palestine.
The number is enough to lead the major undertaking and to manage the diverse crowd that was at Sinai, accepted as "Bene Israel," "Children of Abraham," and split among and mixed with the tribes; but it's not enough to support the idea that such a small group could have seriously considered the plan of conquering Palestine.
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.
A bit 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 at least during his reign. If the Hebrew genealogies are authentic, this happened long before Jacob and his sons arrived in Egypt.
(Signed) A.W. Thayer
(Signed) A.W. Thayer
THE TALE OF THE WARLOCK AND THE YOUNG COOK OF BAGHDAD.
Here we begin with the aidance of Allah Almighty, the Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad.234
Here we start with the help of Allah Almighty, the Story of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad.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 Khán 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 Furát235 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;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.237 Then the Warlock considering the face of this Cook saw his colour wan as the hue of metal leaves238 and he was lean of limb;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,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 warehouses241 and taverns242 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 rods243 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;244 also a bit of cooked meat,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 Conjuration246 which was, "I have knocked, I have knocked at the hall doors of Earth to summon the Jánn, and the Jánn have knocked for the Jánn against the Shaytán." Hereat appeared to me the son of Al bin Imrán247 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;'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 Káshán249 or in the city Ispahan or in the towns of men who with cloaks buttoned tight and ever ready good fame to blight,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 bedding251 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 Jánn-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?"252 and both lovers cried, "We were in the Garden of Paradise together with the Hur and Ghilman: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;"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;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 jangle256 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.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; otherwise258 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,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 He260 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 vomited261 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.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,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,ö 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.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 lad265 to sleep withal. And if I say to them, 'What intent have ye? Ye are in meanness and misery266 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 face267 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 Paradise268 with maidens of the Húr 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 'Omán,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 Tobe270 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?"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;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.
It is said (and Allah knows everything!) about a certain man who was a warlock, that Destiny led him from town to town until he finally arrived in Baghdad. He stayed overnight at a Khán of the Khans and, rising early the next morning, he walked around the roads and strolled through the alleys, exploring various market streets until he reached the Long Bazaar, where he could see the entire layout of the city. He closely observed the land, and behold! it was a capital unmatched among cities, through which the Tigris River flowed alongside the Euphrates River, and over the combined waters were seven bridges made of boats; all these were connected for people to cross on their various errands, especially for those seeking pleasure who went to the palm orchards and fruit gardens while the birds sang praises to Allah, the One and the All-Powerful. One day, as this warlock was enjoying himself in the markets, he passed by the shop of a cook where all kinds of prepared meats were displayed. Looking at the young cook, he saw that he was about fourteen years old and as beautiful as the moon on the fourteenth night; he was elegant and wore clothes that seemed freshly tailored for their purity and perfect fit, and people said the artisan had worked hard on it, as its sheen shimmered like silver. Then the warlock noticed the cook's face was pale like the color of metal leaves and he was slender; so he stood in front of him and said, "Peace be upon you, my brother." The cook replied, "And peace be upon you, and the truth of Allah and His blessings: welcome, and a fair welcome to you. Honor me, my lord, by allowing me to serve you the noon meal." The warlock entered the shop, and the cook took two or three platters as white as the whitest silver; and into each one he placed a different kind of meat, setting them before his customer, who then said, "Sit down, my son." When the cook obeyed, the warlock continued, "I see you are unwell and your complexion is very yellow: what has affected you, and what ailment do you have, and which part of you pains you? Has it been long since you've been in this state?" When the cook heard this, he sighed deeply from the bottom of his heart and said, weeping, "By Allah, don't remind me of what has befallen me!" The warlock replied, "Tell me what your illness is and what you complain of; do not hide your pain from me, for I am a physician and, by Allah's guidance, I am experienced; I have a cure for your ailment." At that, the young cook began to moan and groan and then replied, "Honestly, my lord, I have no physical pain or complaint, except that I am in love." The warlock asked, "Are you truly in love?" and the cook responded, "Not only am I a lover, but I am a lover who is separated from his beloved." "Who does your heart long for?" continued the warlock, and the youth replied, "Allow me to finish my business for now, and come back to me around mid-afternoon, so that I can tell you about my situation and explain the matter I am in." The warlock said, "Get back to work now, lest it be mismanaged by delay;" so saying, he ate what was served to him and went out to wander the bazaars of Baghdad to enjoy the sights of the city. But when it was time for the Asr prayer—the mid-afternoon prayer—he returned to the cook and found that by then he had completed all his work, and as soon as the youth saw him, he felt joy and his spirits were lifted, saying to himself, "Perhaps joy will come to me from the healing hands of this physician." He closed his shop and took his customer to his own home. Now this young cook was well-off, having inherited wealth from both his parents; so as soon as they entered his quarters, he served up food, and the two ate and drank, feeling glad and comforted. After this, the guest said to his host, "Now tell me your story and what is the cause of your distress?" "My lord," replied the youth, "I must inform you that the Caliph Al-Mu'tazid bi'llah, the Commander of the Faithful, has a daughter who is beautiful and graceful; a lovely maiden who embodies all the signs of beauty—her description is beyond words: no seer has seen her equal, and no storyteller has related anything to rival her in stature and graceful bearing. Despite many suitors, including grandees and kings, seeking her hand from her father, he refused to give her to anyone. Every Friday, when people go to the mosques for their prayers, all the merchants, buyers, sellers, and artisans leave their shops and taverns wide open and flock to the congregational prayers. At that time, this rare maiden comes down from her palace to enjoy watching the bazaars before eventually entering the bathhouse to bathe and then going back home. But one Friday, I told myself, 'I will not go to the mosque; I wish to catch a glimpse of her.' When prayer time came, and the people went to the mosque, I hid myself in my shop. Soon the illustrious damsel appeared, accompanied by forty maidens, all as radiant as newly risen full moons and even more beautiful than the rest, with her standing among them shining like the sun; the maidens tried to shield her from sight as they surrounded her, carrying her skirts with bent rods of gold and silver. I caught but one glimpse of her and, instantly, my heart was on fire with love for her, and tears streamed from my eyes. To this day, I remain in that same state of yearning. What a deep yearning it is!" And with that, the young cook cried out in a way that made it seem like his soul might leave his body. "Is this still your situation?" asked the warlock, and the youth answered, "Yes, my lord." The warlock then asked, "If I were to help you and bring you together with her, what would you give me?" The young cook replied, "My money and my life, which will be in your hands!" The healer responded, "Go and bring me a metal vial, seven needles, a piece of fresh lign-aloes, a bit of cooked meat, some sealing clay, the shoulder blade of a sheep, and different kinds of felt and silk." The youth went out and fulfilled his request, and when he returned, the sage took the shoulder blades and inscribed them with Quranic verses and invocations to please the Lord of the Heavens, wrapping them in felt and tying them with seven types of silk. Then, taking the vial, he inserted the seven needles into the green lign-aloes and placed it into the cooked meat, securing it with sealing clay. Lastly, he chanted over these objects a spell, saying, "I have knocked at the doors of the Earth to summon the Jinn, and the Jinn have knocked against the Shaytan." At that moment, the son of Al bin Imran appeared to him with a snake and a girdle made from a basilisk and cried, "Who is this trader, son of a slave woman, who has knocked at the ground for us this evening?" "Then you, young man, should reply, 'I am a lover, youthful and my love is for a young lady; I have come to your magic, oh people of courage and noble deeds: so work with me, support my matter, and help me in it. Don't you see how Such-and-such, daughter of such-and-such, has wronged and oppressed me, and she does not share my affection as she once did?" They will answer you, 'Let it be as stated.' Then you must set the objects on a very fierce fire and recite, 'This is the matter; and whether Such-and-such, daughter of Such-and-such, is in the depths of Kashan, or in the city of Isfahan, or in the towns of those men who cover themselves tightly, always ready to be slandered, let her come forth and seek union with her beloved.' To which she will answer, 'You are the lord, and I am the bondwoman.' Now the youth stood, marveling at such forms of magic, and the warlock repeated these words to him three times, then turned to him and said, "Get up and perfume your body, dress in your finest clothes, and spread your bed, for at this very moment, you shall see your mistress beside you." And saying this, the sage threw away the shoulder blades and set the vial on the fire. The young man quickly got up and brought forth the rarest clothing, spread it out and dressed himself as the wizard instructed; however, he couldn’t believe his mistress would actually appear. But before long, behold! the young lady, bearing her bedding and still sleeping, came through the door and she was bright and beautiful as the rising sun. When the young cook saw her, he was bewildered, and his wits escaped him; he cried out, "This is nothing but a wondrous affair!" "And the same," replied the sage, "is what you wished for." The cook said, "You, my lord, are of the hallows of Allah," and he kissed his hand, thanking him for his kind deed. "Go now and enjoy," cried the warlock; so the lover crawled under the coverlet into the bed and wrapped his arms around the beautiful girl and kissed her between the eyes, then softly kissed her on the mouth. She felt a sensation and immediately woke, opening her eyes to see a youth embracing her. She asked him, "You, who are you?" He answered, "A captive to your eyes, slain by your love, and yearning only for you." At this, she looked at him with a gaze that struck her heart with longing and asked again, "O my beloved; tell me, are you human or one of the Jinn?" He replied, "I am a human, and of the noblest kind." She said, "Then who brought me here to you?" and he answered, "The Angels and the Spirits, the Jinn and the great ones." "Then I swear to you, my darling," she said, "that you must ask them to bring me into your arms every night," and he said, "As you wish, my lady, and for me this is the peak of all desires." They exchanged kisses and then fell asleep in each other's embrace until dawn. But when the morning broke and light appeared, the warlock showed up, calling for the youth who came to him with a smiling face, and asked, "How was your soul this night?" and both lovers cried, "We were together in the Garden of Paradise with the Hur and Ghilman; may Allah reward you for us with all good." Then they went to the bathhouse, and when they had bathed, the youth said, "O my lord, what shall we do about the young lady? How will she return to her home, and what will happen to me without her?" "Do not grieve," said the wise man, "and have no care at all: just as she came, so shall she leave; none of Allah's creatures will know anything of her." With that, the sage dismissed her in the same way she arrived, and she continued to spend every night with the youth, bringing joy and delight. After a few weeks, the young lady happened to be on the terrace of her palace with her mother, turning her back to the sun, and when the heat struck her shoulders, she felt her belly swelling; so her parent asked her, "O my daughter, what is happening to you?" "I don't know," she replied, and her mother reached for her belly and discovered she was pregnant. She screamed, hitting herself and asked, "How did this happen?" The attendants all heard her cries and rushed in to ask, "What has caused you such distress, O our lady?" She replied, "I want to speak with the Caliph." They sought him out, saying, "O our lord, our lady wishes to see you," and he came to her, but as he looked at her, he saw her condition and asked, "What is going on with you? What has caused you such a calamity?" The princess explained everything, and he exclaimed, "O my daughter, I am the Caliph and Commander of the Faithful, and kings from all over have sought your hand in marriage, and you rejected them all, and now you do this deed! I swear binding oaths by the tombs of my ancestors, if you tell me the truth, you will be safe; but unless you confess to me the whole truth of what has happened, and who was involved, I will have you killed and bury you underground." When the princess heard her father's words and thought about the severity of his oath, she replied, "O my father, while lying may save me, truth-telling is the safer path. It was only a time ago that every night my bed carries me to a house where a youth resides, a model of beauty who captures every seer's heart; he sleeps with me and stays by my side until dawn, when my bed takes me back to the palace—the manner of my going and returning is unknown to me." The caliph was astonished by her story and fell into deep wonder, but thinking of his minister, a man with keen insight and wisdom, he called for him and explained everything as soon as he arrived. After thinking for an entire hour, the minister said, "O Caliph, I have a plan that I believe will help us track down where the princess is taken." The caliph asked, "What is this plan of yours?" "Order a bag to be brought," replied the minister, "which I will fill with millet; and they brought him one. After stuffing it with grain, he placed it on the girl's bed near her head, leaving it open so that when her bed was carried away during the night, millet would be spilled on the path." "God bless you, O minister!" exclaimed the caliph, "this plan is excellent and better proven than any other." As night fell, the bed was taken as usual, and the grain was scattered from the palace gate to the cook's house, where the princess remained until dawn. When morning came, the sage brought the youth to the bathhouse to find privacy and said to him, "O my son, if you ask me anything about your beloved’s family, know that they have indeed discovered her condition and are plotting against you." The youth exclaimed, "We belong to Allah and to Him, we return! What is your advice in this matter? If they kill me, I shall be a martyr on Allah's path; but you go your way and save yourself, and may the Almighty reward you for all the good you have done for me." The warlock replied, "O my son, do not grieve or fear; no harm shall come to you, and I intend to show you some wonders and miracles against them." When the youth heard these words, he felt uplifted, filled with great joy, and replied, "May Allah reward you with the utmost good!" Then they left the bathhouse and returned home. But as soon as morning broke, the minister went to the caliph, and both went to the princess together, finding her in her chambers, with the bag empty of millet. Seeing this, the minister said, "Now we have indeed caught our prey. Let us mount up, O Caliph of the Age, and follow the trail of the millet." The Commander of the Faithful immediately ordered them to mount, and they set out on the trail of the grain until they reached the house. When the youth heard the noise of horses and the shouts of men drawing near, he turned to the warlock and said, "They are coming to seize me, O my lord! What should I do now?" The warlock said, "Go and fill an ewer with water and take it up to the terrace. Pour it around the house, and then come down to me." The youth did as he was told, and meanwhile the caliph, minister, and soldiers had approached the house. Suddenly, it transformed into an island amid a turbulent sea. When the Commander of the Faithful saw this sea, he was deeply puzzled and asked the minister, "When did such great water appear here?" The minister replied, "I never knew that there was a stream here; although I know the Tigris flows through the city, this is a magical current." He then ordered his men to enter the water without fear, and they followed his command until many were drowned. The caliph cried out, "O minister, we are about to destroy our army!" The minister replied, "What should we do, O Caliph? Perhaps it would be best to ask for help from those inside the house and offer them security while we have a conversation, to see what will come from their side." "Do as seems appropriate," the Commander of the Faithful said, and the minister ordered his men to call out to the household, they sought aid for a long time. The sage, hearing their cries, said to the youth, "Go up to the terrace and tell the Caliph, 'You are safe; turn back from here and we will soon meet you in good health; otherwise, your daughter will be lost and your army destroyed, and you, O Commander of the Faithful, will return as one driven away. Do you leave; this is not a way to meet us, and there is no management in such manner.'" The cook did as instructed, and when the two heard his words, the minister said to the caliph, "Indeed, they are nothing but magicians, or they must be some of the most powerful of the Jinn, for we have never seen or heard of anything like this." Then the Commander of the Faithful turned and left, deeply troubled and frustrated; he went down to his palace and sat there for an hour when, behold! the warlock and the cook appeared before him. As soon as they stood in the presence, the caliph cried out, "O executioner, bring me the head of this youth!" The executioner came forward, tore a strip from the youth's robe to blindfold him; then he walked around him three times brandishing his blade over the victim's head and finally asked, "O Caliph, shall I execute this youth?" The caliph replied, "Yes, after you strike off his head." Hearing this, the executioner raised his hand to strike, when suddenly his grip was reversed, striking down his companion standing near him. The head of this companion fell at the Caliph's feet. The king and the minister were baffled by this occurrence, and the caliph shouted, "What is this? Have you gone blind, O executioner, that your blade missed the target and you could not distinguish between your assistant and this youth?" Strike him immediately!" The executioner raised his hand again obeying his lord, but the blow fell upon his servant with his head rolling at the feet of the Caliph and his chief advisor. At this second mishap, everyone was bewildered, and the caliph asked, "What is this, O minister?" To which the minister replied, "O Caliph of the Age, what can you expect from such beings? Whoever can carry off your daughter at night and generate a sea around his house can easily also seize your kingdom from you; and more, he can practice upon your life as well. I recommend that you rise and kiss the hand of this sage, seeking his protection, lest he end up using worse methods against us. Believe me, my lord, it would be far better for you to do as I advise than to treat this man as an adversary." Hearing such words from his minister, the caliph instructed them to bring up the youth, remove the blindfold, and once he stood up, he kissed the warlock's hand, saying, "Indeed, we did not know you nor were we aware of the extent of your capabilities. But, O guide of the time, why have you acted so against me in regards to my daughter, killing my servants and soldiers?" "O viceregent of Allah on Earth," replied the sage, "I am a stranger, and having shared bread and salt with this youth, I grew to care for him. After seeing his troubled state which had afflicted him with sickness, I took pity on him; moreover, I wanted to show you all what I am capable of and the wisdom that Allah has taught me. Until now, what has happened has been nothing short of good, and now I ask your favor to marry your daughter to this youth, for she is suitable only for him." The caliph replied, "This plan strikes me as the best and it is befitting that we heed your request." He then clothed the youth in a magnificent robe worth the kingdom of a king, and commanded him to sit beside him, putting the sage in an ebony chair. While they conversed, the warlock noticed a tapestry behind the caliph depicting two lions, and he gestured toward these gigantic and fierce-looking figures. Suddenly, both lions put their paws on each other and roared with sounds like ear-splitting thunder. This left the gathered crowd in utter amazement, especially the caliph, who exclaimed, "O minister, what do you see in this matter?" The minister replied, "O Caliph of the Age, Allah, in His mercy, has sent this sage to show you such wonders." The warlock then commanded the lions to shrink to the size of kittens, which added to everyone's astonishment. Soon after, the caliph told the minister, "Tell the sage to display more of his wonders." The minister obeyed and the warlock said, "To hear is to obey." He then commanded, "Bring me a cauldron full of water." When it was brought, he asked the courtiers, "Who among you would like to entertain themselves?" "I," said the minister; to which the sage replied, "Then rise and remove your robes and gird yourself with a belt." The minister asked for a waistcloth, and when it was brought, he did as instructed. The warlock then ordered, "Sit in the center of the cauldron." The minister jumped into the water, but as he tried to sit down as instructed, he realized he had entered a chaotic sea of crashing waves, where no one could see the end, nor anyone could return. While he struggled to swim, a gigantic wave tossed him high onto the shore, leaving him standing naked except for his waistcloth. "Let me see what the sage and minister have conspired to do to me!" he thought. "Maybe they have married my daughter off and stolen my kingdom, with the sage replacing me as the sultan. Now I ponder, ‘What had I to do with such a cursed diversion?’" However, while he pondered in thought, a group of maidens approached to fill their pitchers from a pool of sweet water beside the sea. They spotted him and exclaimed, "Who are you? Are you really human or perhaps a Jinn?" He replied, "I am a mortal of noble birth, though I am a stranger in this land and do not know where to go." "From what country do you come?" they asked him, and he answered, "I am from Baghdad." "Go to that hill, then down to the flat land beyond, and you will see a city called Omán, where you may enter." So the caliph followed their advice, and as soon as the people saw him exposed, they murmured to one another, "This man is a merchant who has been shipwrecked," and they offered him a torn tobe as almsgift, to cover his nakedness. After he accepted the garment, he wandered around the city looking for entertainment, and while strolling, he passed through the jeweler’s market. This was a city by the sea, where divers would delve for pearls, corals, and precious stones. As he stood there contemplating, he thought, "Let me become a broker here to escape from my toil and the act of licking platters." When morning came, he put his plan into action, and soon a merchant approached him, holding a gem so precious its light shone like the sun and worth the tribute of Egypt and Syria. The caliph marveled at its beauty and asked the merchant, "Will you sell this jewel?" The merchant agreed, and the caliph took it and began displaying it to other merchants, who were astounded by its brilliance. They bid fifty thousand dinars for it, and the caliph, not stopping there, continued exhibiting it until the offers had risen to a hundred thousand dinars. He then returned to the merchant to ask, "Will you sell it for that sum?" When the merchant consented, the caliph stated, "I will now go to collect the payment and return to you." He then approached the buyer, asking, “Bring your payment and give it to me," but the buyer asked, "Where is its owner?" The caliph answered, "The owner has commissioned me to collect the price, and then he will come to claim it." However, the buyer responded, "This isn't proper; bring me its owner so he can take the price, as he sold it to me, and you're just the agent." The caliph then sought the owner, wandering around for a long time without finding him. Afterward, he approached the buyer again, stating, "I am the rightful owner; give me my payment." The buyer stood to pay but saw it was just a piece of dark Sandarac, and his brows furrowed in recognition; he exclaimed, "O you devil, have you duped me with forgeries in the royal bazaar?" When the other merchants heard this, they swarmed around the fraudulent broker, captured him, and dragged him before the sultan of that city. The sultan asked, "What is this man's offense?" “O our honored lord,” they replied, “this man is swindling traders in the royal bazaar." Therefore, the king ordered them to execute him, so they shackled his neck and prepared to hang him. As they announced, "This is the penalty for those who present counterfeit goods and deceive the merchants in the marketplace of the Sultan,” the caliph reflected. "I was unhappy merely licking platters that now appear so enjoyable, only to become a broker—what a pitiable fate; but this is my own doing." When they brought him to the gallows and placed the noose around his neck, he felt weightless as he rose off the ground. Suddenly his eyes opened, and he found himself rising from the cauldron, with the warlock, minister, and the youth watching him closely. Seeing his lord again, the minister leapt up and kissed the ground before him, laughing aloud. The Commander of the Faithful asked, "Why this laughter?" The minister replied, "O you, the Prince of True Believers, my joy is for myself, for I have regained my identity after having turned into a woman, becoming married to a farmer who cultivates the land, and bearing him seven children." "Woe unto you, O dog, son of a dog, you were married and rejoiced in children while I just escaped from being hanged!" The caliph told the minister everything that had befallen him, and the minister replied likewise. Everyone laughed heartily and marveled at the warlock's abilities and mastery of magic. Then the Kazi and witnesses were summoned with their writing materials to draft a marriage contract for the young cook and the caliph's daughter. Afterward, the sage remained with the Commander of the Faithful, enjoying the highest degree of honor and respect; they lived in utmost pleasure and joy until the desire of all delights and the end of life came for them all.
FINIS.
THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF THE COCK AND THE FOX.
Here we begin to indite the pleasant History which beset between the Cock and the Fox.273
Here we start to tell the enjoyable story that takes place between the Cock and the Fox.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 holcus274 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 Fox275 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,276 wild pigeon and turtledove, poultry and fowls and Katás and quails277 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 punishment278 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!"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.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.
It is said that in such a village lived a man who was a Shaykh for a long time, someone gifted with good advice and a fair understanding. He had plenty of poultry on his farm, both male and female, which he would breed and eat their eggs and chickens. Among his roosters was a Chanticleer, older and clever, who had long battled with his fate and had become wise to the ways of the world and the ups and downs of life. One day, this Cock wandered out to the fields, pecking and picking up any grains of wheat, barley, and sesame that came his way. However, being careless, he had strayed far from the village without realizing it, and before he knew it, he found himself deep in the wilderness. He turned right and left but saw neither friend nor familiar face, leaving him perplexed about what to do, feeling anxious and unsure. While he was lost in thought about his next move, he suddenly spotted a Fox approaching from a distance, which made him afraid and tremble with great agitation. He quickly turned around and noticed a tall wall rising from the wilderness, which was too high for the Fox to climb; so he spread his wings, flew up, and perched on top of the wall where he felt safe. The Fox came to the base of the wall and, seeing no way to get to the Cock, raised his head and said, "Peace be upon you, my honest brother and friend!" Since the Cock didn't acknowledge him or respond to his greeting, the Fox continued, "What troubles you, dear brother, that you don’t acknowledge my greeting or listen to my words?" Still, the Cock didn’t respond, which led the Fox to add, "Do you not know, dear brother, the good news I bring you? If only you knew what I had heard, you’d be embracing me and kissing me!" But the Cock pretended not to be paying attention, standing with wide eyes fixed on the distance. The Fox resumed, "Oh brother, the King of Beasts, the Lion, and the King of Birds, the Eagle, have come down from their journey to the meadows where the grass is growing, along the banks of flowing waters with blooming flowers and grazing gazelles; they have gathered all sorts of animals—lions, hyenas, leopards, lynxes, wild cattle, antelopes, jackals, and even hares—and all the wild beasts of the earth. They have called all the birds too—eagles, vultures, crows, ravens, wild pigeons, turtledoves, poultry, and quails. These two lords have commanded a herald to announce, throughout the hills and the lowlands, safety and security, brotherhood, peace with honor, friendship, and love among all the beasts and birds; they decree that enmity should end and wrongs be forbidden. If anyone harms a fellow creature, this could be a reason for punishment, even for death by being torn apart. They also ordered that all should feed and roam together peacefully, never breaking this bond, but living in harmony and intimacy. Moreover, they appointed me—yes, me—to travel the wilderness and spread the good news that everyone must come together; anyone who refuses or delays will not escape punishment, and that everyone must come forward and show respect. And I especially urge you, my brother, to come down safely and not let fear disturb you." The Fox told this to the Cock, who ignored him as if he hadn’t heard anything and remained silent, focused on the distance. The Fox, eager to know how he might catch and eat him, said, "Why do you not respond or even turn your face towards me, your Commissioner sent by the Lion, Sovereign of the beasts, and the Eagle, Sultan of the birds? I am worried that you might refuse to come with me and face severe criticism, as everyone is gathered and grazing in the meadow." Then, seeing that Chanticleer still wouldn’t look at him, he added, "Oh brother, I call out to you, and you ignore me, but if you refuse to accompany me, at least tell me your answer." Finally, the Cock turned towards him and said, "You speak truly, brother, and I understand you are an envoy and messenger from our King, but my situation has changed." "What calamity has fallen on you?" asked the Fox. "Do you see what I see?" replied the Cock. "And what do you see?" the Fox asked eagerly. "I see a dust cloud lowering and Saker-falcons flying in circles." The Fox, now anxious, said, "Look closely, brother, so we don’t face any disaster." Chanticleer gazed as if dazed for a full hour, then turned to the Fox and said, "I see a bird flying and a dust trail coming towards us." "Examine them closely, brother," the Fox urged, anxiety clear in his voice, "lest this signal trouble." The Cock replied, "Only Allah knows the truth, but I seem to see something long-legged, lean-sided, loose-eared, sleek-headed, and well-built, drawing near—oh great!" When the Fox heard this, he exclaimed, "Oh brother, I must take my leave!" and saying so, he bolted and ran away. The Cock then shouted, "Why do you flee when there’s no threat to scare you?" The Fox replied, "I fear the Greyhound, brother, because he is neither my friend nor acquaintance." The Cock retorted, "Didn’t you just say you came as a commissioner from the Kings, announcing peace and safety among all the beasts and birds?" "Oh my brother Chanticleer," the Fox shot back, "this fierce Greyhound wasn’t there when the peace was declared, nor was his name mentioned at the gathering of the beasts; I have no affection for him, and there is no safety between us." With that, the Fox turned to flee, utterly terrified, while the Cock escaped from danger thanks to his cunning and wisdom. After the Fox had run away, Chanticleer descended from the wall and returned to his farm, praising Allah Almighty who had brought him back safely. He then shared with his companions what had occurred with the Fox and how his clever ploy helped him escape from a dire situation, which would have turned out badly if not for his wits.
FINIS.
HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL-LET WITH THE FOWLER
Here we begin to invite the History of what befel the Fowl-let from the Fowler.281
Here we start to explore the history of what happened to the bird from the trapper.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-fast282 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,
They say (but Allah knows best) that there lived in Baghdad a skilled hunter. One day, he went out to hunt, bringing with him nets, traps, and other necessary gear, and headed to a garden full of trees and interwoven branches where birds gathered. When he reached a dense thicket, he set his trap in the ground and looked for a place to hide, seating himself there concealed. Suddenly, a bird flew close to the trap and started scratching the ground, wandering around it, and thought, "What could this be? I wish I knew, for it looks like a marvelous creation of Allah!" Then he spotted the decoy half buried in the ground and called out to it from afar, “Greetings!” The trap returned the greeting, adding, “And Allah’s mercy and blessings upon you.” It then continued, “Welcome, dear brother, sincere friend, kind companion; why do you stand so far away when I want you to be my close neighbor and become one of my loyal friends? So come closer to me and trust in your safety, and don't be afraid of me.” The bird responded, “I beg you by Allah, tell me who you are so I won’t be frightened, and what is your name and your lineage, and which tribe do you belong to?” The trap replied, “My name is Hold-fast282, my patronymic is Bindfast, and my tribe is called the Sons of Fallfast.” The bird said, “You speak the truth; that name fits you perfectly, and your patronymic and tribe are undoubtedly honorable.” The trap then replied, “Alhamdolillah—praise be to the Lord—that you recognize me and acknowledge me as one of your truest friends, for where else will you find a companion like me, honest and sincere, and sharing your thoughts? Indeed, I am devoted and shy away from idle talk, acquaintances, and even from family; I have no refuge but on the tops of hills and in the depths of valleys. I am the true Holdfast in mundane matters and the real Bindfast in worldly pleasures.” The bird replied, “You have spoken truly, my lord; all hail to you; how pious, moral, and gracious you are! I wish I were a single hair on your body.” The trap responded, “You are my brother in this world and my father in the next.” The bird then said, “O my brother, I would like to ask you about things you keep hidden in your heart.” The trap replied, “Ask anything you wish, and I will reveal what you desire to know; I will honestly share all my intentions and disclose all my thoughts, leaving nothing hidden.” So the bird began, “O my brother, why do I see you here in the dust, distanced from friends and family, having separated from your loved ones?” The trap answered, “Do you not know, my brother, that retreat brings lasting peace and distance from people brings blessings, and separation from the world brings physical well-being? As one poet has rightly said, and said it well,
And one of the Sages hath said, 'Solitude and not ill associate.' Also quoth they to Al-Bahlúl,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.' 286 And wottest thou not, O my brother, what said the poet?
And one of the wise said, 'Better to be alone than to be in bad company.' They also asked Al-Bahlúl, 'Why are you hanging around the graves and spending time in this empty place? Why are you so distant from your family and partner, and lacking any love for your brothers and close friends?' He replied, 'Woe to you! If I lived among my people, they would eventually stop loving me, and if I stay away, they will never criticize me; they wouldn’t remember my affection or wish for my company. I am so content in my solitude that if I saw my family, I would run away as if I were scared of them, and if my parents were brought back to life and wanted to be with me, I would truly flee from them.' The Fowl-let replied, 'Indeed, my brother, you have spoken the truth in everything you’ve said, and your advice is wise; but please tell me about that rope around your waist. Despite all your efforts, why are you neither standing nor sitting on the ground?' The Trap replied, 'My brother, know that I spend every night praying. Whenever sleep tries to take over, I tighten this rope around my waist to keep myself awake for my prayers. Also, know that Allah (glorified and exalted be He!) loves His servants when they are devoted, always standing in worship, ready to pray and praise Him day and night; and those who lay down, eager to obey their Lord in both good times and bad, share their blessings. Allah (glorified and exalted be He!) said, 'They do not find rest for a brief part of the night, and at dawn, they seek His forgiveness, and their Lord grants their requests.' And do you not know, my brother, what the poet said?
'These busy are with worldly gear * Those of their moneys proud
appear:
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.' "
'These busy people are caught up in material things * Those who are proud of their wealth appear: But some are truly rich by God's approval * Praise Him at night with sincere love: Their Guardian watches over them always * Praying, confessing sins to be forgiven: They know to worship nothing but Him * And honor His name with love and respect.'
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.' "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,
Thereupon the Fowl said, "You’ve spoken truth, my brother. Every word you’ve said is wise, and you’ve expressed it beautifully. But, as your protector, please tell me why I see you half-buried in the ground and half-exposed?" The Trap replied, "Because I resemble the dead, and in life, I’m avoiding the harmful desires of the flesh. Almighty Allah (may He be glorified and magnified!) said in His Holy Book, 'From the earth we created you, and to it we will return you, and from it we will bring you forth again.' " A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0_ The Bird replied, "You’ve spoken the truth in all you’ve said, but why do I see you so hunched over?" The Trap responded, "Know, my brother, that the reason for my bent back is because I spend so much time in prayer during the day and standing in service to the King, the Compassionate, the One, the Powerful, the Glorious, the All-Powerful; and truly, on this matter, the poet has spoken well,
'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.' "
'Only the devout youth receives the blessing of Paradise * (To whom the Lord forgives crime, sin, and vice), Whose back is bent by constant prayer through the darkness of night * And yearns to deserve Heaven through hardship and suffering. Hail to the servant who always seeks to obey his master * And who finds salvation in death when he dies in obedience.' "
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 robe288 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,
The Fowl-let continued, "Oh my brother, what you've said is true, and I understand you and know that you speak the truth. But still, I see you're wearing a robe288 made of hair!" The Trap replied, "Oh my brother, don't you know that hair and wool are worn by the devout and the religious, as one of the poets has said in these words,
'Folk who in fear of long accompt289 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.' "
'People who, out of fear of lengthy accounts289, care for nothing of worldly matters * Hail to them! Perhaps they'll swap their woolen clothes for silk: In life, salt and barley bread will be enough for those who seek the Almighty Lord and bow their heads in diligent prayer.'
The Birdie resumed, "In very deed thy speech the sooth doth teach; but say me what be this staff290 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, "Zík! zík!" and "Mík! mík!291 Verily I have fallen into wreak and am betrayed by friendly freke and oh, the excess of my trouble and tweak, Zík, Zík! 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 Zindík,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 Harísah 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."294 Hearing these words the Bird fell to speaking and saying,
The Birdie continued, "Your words are indeed true; but tell me, what is this staff290 you’re holding?" The Trap replied, "Oh my brother, I’ve grown old and my strength has faded, so I’ve taken a staff to lean on and to help me when I’m hungry." The Fowl-let asked, "Your words are correct, my brother, and you speak rightly, but I’d like to know one thing, so please don’t refuse to inform me: why is there so much grain scattered all around you?" The Trap answered, "The merchants and wealthy people bring me this food so I can share it with the Fakir and those in need;" and the Birdie replied, "Oh my brother, I’m also hungry; will you allow me to eat some of it?" "You are my friend," exclaimed the Trap, "so it’s only right that I allow you," then he added, "Please, my brother, come here quickly and eat." Hearing this, the Fowl-let flew down from his tree and approached cautiously (his heart racing with fear of the Trap) and picked up a few grains that were nearby until he reached the corn resting in the trap’s loop. He pecked at it once but found no good in it before the Trap fell heavily onto him, trapping his neck. Suddenly, he was seized with great fear and cried out, "Zík! zík!" and "Mík! mík!291 I’ve truly fallen into trouble and been betrayed by someone who seemed friendly, and oh, the depth of my distress and pain, Zík, Zík! Oh, you who understand my plight, help me escape and save me from this unique predicament and have pity on me, the helpless!" The Trap replied, "You cry out Zik! Zik! and now you’re in a unique situation, having strayed from the path you were seeking, you Miscreant and Zindík,292 and nothing can assist you now, neither brother nor true friend or familiar face. Now understand what you must do! I’ve deceived you with a trick that you fell for and desired." The Bird responded, "I am one whom desire has brought down, seduced by ignorance and extreme greed, one whose neck is now fitted for the collar of destruction and I have fallen alongside those who fall the lowest!" At that moment, the Fowler came up with his knife to slaughter the Fowl-let and began saying, "How many birds have we easily caught for the sake of their meat so that we can prepare their heads with rice or in Harísah 293 or fry them in a pan and enjoy them ourselves or feed them to important guests? It’s also our duty to secretly consume half of their bodies while the other half will be for our guests, and I will take the wings to serve to my family and relatives as the finest of gifts."294 Hearing these words, the Bird started to speak, 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."
"Oh Birder, my mother is suffering * And she's blinded by tears over my loss. I'm not enough as your guest, nor can I offer a gift: * Have mercy and compassion and let me go! I will bless you with my parents and then I will * Fly in the morning and return to you at night."
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 curd295 cooked with Summák,296 and a fine fry and eke conserves of pears297 and quinces and apples and apricots hight the rose-water and vermicelli298 and Sikbáj;299 and meat dressed with the six leaves and a porridge300 and a rice-milk, and an 'Ajíjíyah301 and fried flesh in strips and Kabábs 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 'Anká, daughter of Life, or were I the she- camel of Sálih to be, or the ram of Isaac the sacrificed, or the loquent calf of Al-Sámiri 302 or even a buffalo fattened daintily all this by thee mentioned had never come from me." Hereat he fell to improvising and saying,
Currently, he continued, "Don’t you see how my food is meager and my stomach is empty? I truly cannot help you or satisfy your hunger; so, fear God and set me free, and the Almighty will reward you generously." But the Fowler, ignoring his words, handed him over to his son, saying, "Oh my child, take this bird home, kill him, and cook for us a cumin stew and a lemon dish, a dish flavored with verjuice, another with mushrooms, a third with pomegranate seeds, and a fourth with clotted curd—cooked with sumac—and a nice fry, along with preserves of pears, quinces, apples, and apricots, flavored with rose water and vermicelli, and Sikbáj; and meat dressed with six spices, and a porridge, and rice milk, and an 'Ajíjíyah, and fried strips of meat, and kebabs, and meat olives, and similar dishes. Also, make strings for bows from his guts, a conduit for the terrace roof from his throat, a tray cloth from his skin, and cushions and pillows from his feathers." When the bird heard this (still in the Fowler's hand), he laughed a sorrowful laugh and exclaimed, "Woe to you, O Bird Catcher! Where have your wits and understanding gone? Are you mad from jinn or drunk on wine? Are you simply foolish from age or just asleep? Are you heavy-minded or careless in thought? Even if I were that long-necked bird the 'Anká, daughter of Life, or if I were the she-camel of Sálih, or the ram of Isaac the sacrificed, or the eloquent calf of Al-Sámiri, or even a buffalo well-fed, none of this you mentioned would ever come from me." He then started to improvise and say,
"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 drowning303 decree.'?
"The Ruthless forbids me from eating meat, and His Grace shows me mercy. I am a camel that they burden too much, and the hunter is foolish when he sees my flesh. From Solomon's lineage, O my God, I have hope: if he kills me, the Ruthless will drown in his own 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:
Then the Bird said to the Bird Catcher, "If you plan to kill me out of greed, just like you described, I won't be of any use to you. But if you help me and set me free, I will show you something that will benefit you and your descendants for generations to come." "What kind of help are you talking about?" asked the Bird Catcher, and the Bird replied, "I will teach you three wise words and reveal a treasure on this earth that will ensure you and your family will always be satisfied and will forever wish for my long life. I will also point out to you a pair of gray Falcons, big and strong, who are true friends of mine that you left untrapped in the gardens." The Bird Catcher asked, "And what are these three wise words?" The Bird answered, "Oh, Bird Catcher, the three words of wisdom are: Don't mourn the past, don't celebrate the future too quickly, and believe only what you see in front of you. As for the treasure and the two Falcons, once you set me free, I will show them to you, and soon you will see that what I've said is true." Hearing this, the Bird Catcher felt good about the Bird because he was excited about the treasure and the Falcons; the captive tricked the captor, confusing him so much that he immediately let the bird go. The Bird flew joyfully from the Bird Catcher's hand, delighted to have escaped death; then, after tidying his feathers and spreading his wings, he laughed until he nearly fainted. Soon he started to look around, taking deep breaths and showing his happiness; then the Bird Catcher said, "Oh Father of Flight, Oh Wind! What did you say about pointing out those two gray Falcons and who were the friends you left in the gardens?" The Bird replied, "Oh dear! I've never met anyone as foolish as you, or anyone as clueless or incapable. Indeed, you're foolish in your head and empty in your wits. Oh, you slow thinker, when have you ever seen a sparrow hang out with a Falcon, let alone two Falcons? Your understanding is so limited that I escaped your grasp by using the simplest trick that my mind could come up with." Then he began to improvise and repeat:
"When Fortune easy was, from duty304 didst forbear * Nor from that malady305 hast safety or repair: Then blame thyself nor cast on other wight306 the fault * And lacking all excuse to death of misery fare!"
"When things were going well for you, you didn’t fulfill your responsibilities. Nor did you find safety or healing from that problem. So don’t blame yourself or put the fault on someone else. And without any excuse, you face the misery of death!"
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 Kisrà Anúshírwán 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 pine307 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 drachms308 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,309
Then the Fowl started again, "Woe to you, oh lowly and petty one, you don’t realize what you’ve lost in me. Your ambitions are thwarted, your luck is ruined, and poverty and obscurity are close at hand. If you had cut my throat and opened my crop when you captured me, you would have found a jewel weighing an ounce that I picked up and swallowed from the treasury of Kisrà Anúshírwán the King." When the Birder heard the Bird's words, he threw dust on his head, struck his face, pulled out his beard, tore his clothes, and eventually collapsed in a swoon on the ground. After a while, when he regained his senses, he looked towards his former captive and cried, "Oh Father of Flight, oh you who are called The Wind, is there any way for you to return to me, where you will stay within the apple of my eye, and after all this struggle I will perfume and treat you with ambergris and fragrant wood, and I will bring you sugar for food and pine nuts, and you will live with me in the highest comfort?" The Bird replied, "Oh miserable fool, what's done is done; your deceit and false flattery don’t satisfy me. Praise be to the Lord, you are the meanest of men. How quickly you’ve forgotten the three warnings I gave you! And how foolish are you, seeing that I don’t weigh even ten drachms, so how could I possibly carry a jewel that weighs an ounce? How far are you from being clever, and how fast have you forgotten my advice: ‘Trust only what you see, don’t dwell on the past, and don’t rejoice too quickly over what comes.’ These wise words have completely slipped your mind, and if you had been quick-witted, you would have killed me at once. However, thanks be to God, I did not taste the edge of the knife, and I am grateful to my Lord for my escape and for freeing me from the trap of trouble." When the Birder heard these words from the Bird, he regretted his foolishness and cried, "Oh, how I lament missing the chance to slaughter this bird," and as he fell to the ground, he sang,
"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."
"Oh, how great was the gift I held in my right hand! Yet, oh Creator of man, it was out of self-hatred. If my fortune and luck had been abundant, this emptiness would never have been my struggle."
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,
Hereupon the bird said goodbye to the hunter and flew home, where he sat down and shared everything that happened with the hunter, including how the man caught him and how he escaped through cleverness, and he started making up stories,
"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."
"I warned you, my dear children, and said, * Watch out for that valley, and don't go near the place Where a man sits who, with traps and stakes, * Caught me, pulled out a knife and meant to kill me. He wanted to destroy me, my children, but I * Was saved by the Lord and sent to you."
And here endeth the History of the Fowl let and the Fowler entire and complete.
And here ends the History of the Fowl let and the Fowler, whole and complete.
M.
THE TALE OF ATTAF.
Here we begin to write and invite the Tale of a man of Syria, Attaf hight.310
Here we start to tell the story of a man from Syria, named Attaf.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 Sham311 there dwelt of old a man Attáf hight, who rivalled Hátim of Tayy312 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,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?"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 Yahyá 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."315 Ja'afar replied, "Not until I shall have laid a charge upon my Harím;"316 but Yahya cried, "Enter not these doors, hie thee at once to Al-Shám, 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 Marj317 or mead of Damascus. Now it so fortuned that on that same day Attaf,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 while319 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;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?"321 So Ja'afar disclosed to him his name and office322 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?"323 "I am married, O my lord," quoth the other, whereat Ja'afar resumed, "Wherefore dost thou not go within and lie with thy Harím?" "O my lord," replied Attaf, "the Harím 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 Harím and rise betimes to enter the Hammam.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,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."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 Jámi' 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 stone327 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.328 And hardly had he looked before those casements were opened and suddenly appeared thereat a young lady,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,"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 preventer331 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;332 say me what aileth thee?" "All is excitement333 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.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 piastre335 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,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-wife337 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,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.339 Furthermore an occasion befell and this oath fell from my mouth and I bade her be the owner of herself.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 myself341 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 widowhood342 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."343 Then he fell to taking him every day amongst the crowd of pleasure-seekers and solacing him with a show of joyous spectacles344 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 Marván345 and the Grandees of Syria will flock forth to meet and greet thee with fêtes 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 Kapújí346 entered Damascus and read out the Wazirial letter347 announcing Ja'afar's return from Egypt. Hereat the Governor arose and after sending a present of provisions348 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 Farmán 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."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.350 At the time appointed the Minister took horse escorted by the Governor and the Grandees, and they brought out the mule-litter351 wherein was the bride, and the procession rode onwards until they had reached the Dome of the Birds,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."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?"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?"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 friends356 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 gag357 into my mouth wend thy ways and save thy life and leave me to bear all blame."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;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)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.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;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.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 Wuzú and pray." However, as he purposed that evening to go in unto the wife of Attaf, controversy forewent compliments364 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 brother365 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.'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 thee367 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 forth368 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,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 Háshimi?"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 procès-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 Sobáshí371 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 hang372 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.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 meal374 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 Farmán 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 Syria375 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,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.
They say (but Allah knows best the unknown and is aware of what has come before in the stories of people and the wonders of the past, and of times long gone!) that in the city of Sham311 there once lived a man named Attaf, who was as generous as Hátim of Tayy312 in his hospitality and manners. He lived during the reign of Caliph Harun al-Rashid in Baghdad, and one morning, feeling downcast and anxious, he decided to visit his treasury. He took with him Ja'afar the Barmecide and Mastur the Eunuch. When they arrived, he said to Ja'afar, "Oh Ja'afar, open this door for me so I can find comfort in what I see and perhaps brighten my mood." The Minister obeyed, and the Caliph found a room full of books. He picked up one of the volumes, opened it, and began to read. He laughed out loud three times and cried three times313, which caused Ja'afar to look at him and exclaim, "O King of the Age, why do I see you reading, crying, and laughing all at the same time? Only madmen act this way!"314 With this, Ja'afar fell silent, but the Caliph glared at him and said, "You, son of the Bermak family, you are out of line and talking nonsense by saying, 'Only madmen act this way!'" After saying this, the Caliph put the book back in the treasury and ordered the door to be locked. Then the three returned to the Divan. There, the Caliph looked at Ja'afar and said, "Leave my presence and don't return until you've figured out your own question, and until you can explain to me the meaning behind my tears and laughter at the same time." He growled at him, saying, "Get out! Don’t face me again until you have an answer; otherwise, I’ll have you killed in the worst way." Ja'afar left, hardly able to see, and kept repeating to himself, "Truly, I've found myself in a terrible position; this is such a misfortune; how embarrassing!" He went home and encountered his father, Yahyá the Bermaki, who was just leaving his house. Ja'afar recounted his tale, and his father said, "Go immediately! Don't linger here. Instead, head towards Damascus until this unfortunate turn of events concludes, and when it does, you’ll see wonders there."315 Ja'afar replied, "Not until I’ve given my farewell to my Harem,"316 but Yahya insisted, "Do not enter those doors; hurry to Al-Shám, for this is what Destiny has decided." So, the Minister listened to his father, took a bag of one thousand dinars, strapped on his sword, and took his leave. He then mounted a she-mule, riding alone with no servant or page, and he rode for ten full days until he reached the meadow317 near Damascus. On that same day, Attaf318, a handsome youth known for his charm, had set up camp and laid out a feast outside the city. Spotting Ja'afar on his mount, he recognized him as a traveler passing by and said to his servants, "Call that man over!" They did as he asked, and Ja'afar rode up to Attaf's group and dismounted, greeting them with a friendly salutation, which they all returned. They sat together for a while319, then Attaf stood up and took Ja'afar to his home, accompanied by all the other guests. They entered a large open hall and sat down to talk for an hour. Soon after, the servants brought in a table laden with the evening meal, featuring more than ten different dishes. They ate and enjoyed their meal, and once the guests washed their hands, eunuchs and attendants brought in honey-colored wax candles that lit the room brightly. Then musicians entered and performed a lovely piece while the servants served desserts. After they finished eating, they had coffee320, and finally, at their leisure, the guests stood up, thanked their hosts, and made their way home. Ja'afar and Attaf remained at the table for about an hour, during which Attaf offered Ja'afar numerous greetings, saying, "May all kinds of blessings descend from Heaven upon us. Tell me, how have we pleased you with your presence, and what brought you here to honor us with a visit?"321 Ja'afar introduced himself and explained his reasons for traveling to Damascus in detail322, to which Attaf replied, "Stay with me if you wish for a decade; do not worry, for you honor this place." After this, the eunuchs came in and arranged a bed for Ja'afar in the hall. Seeing this, Ja'afar thought to himself, "Perhaps my host is single if they’re preparing a bed for me next to his." However, he decided to ask, "O Attaf, are you single or married?"323 "I am married, my lord," Attaf replied, and Ja'afar continued, "Then why don't you go inside and be with your wife?" "O my lord," Attaf answered, "my wife can wait; it would be disrespectful to leave a guest like you, a man esteemed by all, to sleep alone while I spend the night with my wife and rise early for the bathhouse.324 I would consider such behavior uncourteous, especially towards someone of your stature. As long as you remain in my home, I won’t sleep with my wife until you have left in peace." "This is remarkable," Ja'afar thought to himself, "and perhaps it's to honor me." So they spent the night together, and when morning came, they went to the Baths where Attaf had sent for fine clothes for his guest, which Ja'afar donned before leaving the Hammam. Once they found their horses at the door, they mounted and made their way to the Lady's Tomb,325 spending a day that was truly pleasing. They continued to visit different places during the day and relax in shared lodgings at night for four full months. After this time, Ja'afar began to feel sad and one day, he sat down and wept. Seeing him in tears, Attaf asked, "May Allah keep you from all distress, dear lord! Why do you weep, and what troubles you? If your heart is heavy, why not share with me what's weighing you down?" Ja'afar replied, "O brother, my heart feels so constricted, and I wish to stroll through the streets of Damascus and find solace in the sight of the Cathedral-mosque of the Ommiades."326 "And who, my lord," Attaf responded, "would stop you from doing so? Please walk wherever you wish and enjoy yourself; may this lift your spirits and ease your heart. There is no one here to hold you back at all." Hearing this, Ja'afar stood up to leave, but his host called out, "O my lord, shall I saddle a horse for you?" Ja'afar replied, "O my friend, I wouldn’t ride because a mounted person can’t enjoy the sights of the people; rather, it is the people who enjoy seeing him." Attaf said, "At least stay a moment so that I can give you some spending money to share with the people; then go out, explore, and take pleasure in whatever you wish; may you find satisfaction and no longer be saddened." Ja'afar accepted a purse containing three hundred dinars and left the house, feeling like someone freed from imprisonment. He wandered around the streets of Damascus, taking in the sights, and eventually entered the Jámi' al-Amawi where he prayed the usual prayers. After that, he continued to stroll through pleasant spots until he came to a narrow street and saw a stone bench327 set into the ground. He sat there for a moment and looked around, noticing in front of him a row of windows with pots planted with fragrant herbs.328 Just then, the windows opened and out came a beautiful young woman,329 a vision of grace and charm, whose beauty would captivate anyone who gazed upon her as she began tending to her plants. Ja'afar stole a glance at her and was instantly struck by her beauty; but after watering her herbs and peeking through the window, she suddenly turned to look down the street and spotted Ja'afar watching her. She quickly shut the windows and disappeared. He lingered on the bench, hoping that she might return and allow him to glimpse her once more. Time and again he nearly got up, but something told him to remain seated. He stayed there until evening fell, when he finally stood and returned to Attaf's house, only to find his host waiting for him at the entrance. "It's good to see you, my lord!" exclaimed Attaf, "I've been worried about you during your long absence." "I had to explore a bit," responded Ja'afar, "and I wanted to take in my surroundings and comfort my soul, which is why I lingered." They entered the house and sat down, where the eunuchs served the evening meal. Ja'afar approached the food but couldn't eat a bite; he dropped his spoon and stood up. Attaf asked, "Why, my lord, can’t you eat?" "Because today’s lunch was too heavy for me, leaving me unable to enjoy dinner; but it’s all good!" responded Ja'afar. When it was time to sleep, he retired to his chamber but found it impossible to close his eyes, consumed by thoughts of the beautiful young lady. He was restless, twisting and turning in bed, groaning, "Alas! Who shall enjoy your presence, O full Moon of the Age, and who shall bask in your beauty?" He spent the entire night restless, and just as dawn broke, Attaf entered and asked, "How are you? I was thinking of you and see that you have slept until late morning. I think you’ve been awake all night." "O my brother, I have no rest,"330 replied Ja'afar. Attaf immediately sent a white slave to fetch a doctor, who arrived shortly after and was the best healer of the time. When he entered Ja'afar's room, he greeted him, "There is nothing wrong with you; may health be with you;332 now tell me what ails you?" "I am simply anxious.333" The doctor felt Ja'afar's wrist and discovered his pulse was strong and consistent.334 He hesitated to say aloud, "You are in love!" so he held his tongue and finally said to Attaf, "I'll write you a prescription that addresses his issue." "Go ahead!" replied Attaf, and the doctor sat down to write when a white slave came in and said, "Your wife wants you." The host stood up, leaving to respond to whatever was requested in the women's quarters, and when his wife saw him, she asked, "O my lord, what would you like cooked for dinner and supper?" "Whatever you see fit," he replied and continued on his way because ever since Ja'afar had been staying with him, Attaf had not entered the women's quarters as he had promised the Minister. Meanwhile, the doctor had written the prescription and slipped it under Ja'afar's pillow. As he was leaving, he ran into Attaf returning from the women's quarters. "Have you written your prescription?" asked Attaf. "Yes," answered the doctor, "I have written it and placed it under his head." Attaf then gave the doctor a piastre335 and went up to Ja'afar's bed. He took the paper from under his pillow, read it, and saw that it stated336 "O Attaf, truly your guest is a lover; so seek out the one he loves and take care of his affairs without unnecessary delay." Attaf turned to Ja'afar, saying, "Now you are one of us; why do you hide your situation and conceal your feelings from me? This doctor, the most astute in Damascus, figured everything out." He then showed Ja'afar the paper, which made Ja'afar smile as he read it. "This doctor is indeed skilled and what he says is true. Know that on the day I left you and wandered through the streets and alleys, something happened to me that I never expected, nor could I have imagined; and I don’t know what will come of it, for, O my brother Attaf, I am deeply in love." He then recounted the whole story of how, seated on the bench, he had seen a beautiful young lady who made his heart stir with feelings he couldn't shake off. "After she looked out at me, she quickly closed the window as soon as she saw me watching. I nearly got up repeatedly, but the longing to see her again kept me sitting there. However, when she didn't reappear until evening, I returned here, and my anguish for her has made it impossible for me to eat or drink. My sleep has been interrupted by the desire for her that's taken hold of my heart. And now, O my brother Attaf, I have shared everything that has happened to me." When Attaf heard his words, he realized that the house Ja'afar described was his house, the lattice window was his own, and the lovely young lady was his wife, his paternal uncle's daughter. He thought to himself, "There is no power and no might but with Allah, the Glorious, the Great. Indeed, we belong to Allah, and to Him shall we return!" But he quickly regained his composure and said, "O Ja'afar, fear not; the lady you saw yesterday was divorced by her husband, and I will go speak to her father to ensure she remains safe from anyone claiming her. I will then return and inform you about her." With that, he rose and went to his cousin's house337 where he was greeted warmly. She kissed his hand and asked, "Is your guest leaving?" He answered, "Not at all; I'm here to send you back to your family because your father met me in the marketplace and said your mother is dying from a severe stomach ache. He told me, 'Send my daughter without delay so she may see her mother alive one last time.'" The young wife, overwhelmed with tears from the news, took her servant girls with her and returned home, where she knocked at the door. Her mother opened it and exclaimed, "May your coming (Inshallah!) bring good news, my daughter! But what brings you here unexpectedly?" "Inshallah!" replied the wife, "Are you not suffering from the illness anymore?" Her mother responded, "Who told you I was unwell? Come inside." She entered the courtyard and heard her father, Abdullah Chelebi338, calling from inside, "What’s going on?" "You met a little while ago," replied his daughter, "Attaf, your son-in-law, in the market, and told him my mother is gravely ill." Her father exclaimed, "I haven't been to the marketplace today nor have I seen anyone!" Just then, they were still speaking when there was a knock at the door. The slave girls opened it to find porters carrying the young lady's possessions, who brought them into the courtyard. Abdullah asked, "Who sent these things?" "Attaf," they replied, and, having placed their burdens down, they left. The father turned to his daughter and asked, "What have you done for my son-in-law to be sending your things to you?" The mother interjected, "Hold your tongue and avoid speaking like that; such words could shame our family honor." As they were talking, Attaf arrived accompanied by a group of friends. His father-in-law asked him, "Why have you acted in this way?" "Today," Attaf replied, "I swore a wrongful oath: my heart is dark with longing for your daughter while her reputation is pure and bright.339 I found myself in a situation which led to this oath, and I declared her her own master.340 Now I shall weep for my past mistakes and set her free." Saying this, he wrote a divorce document and then returned to Ja'afar, stating, "Since daybreak, I have exhausted myself341 for your sake, ensuring that no one can touch her. Now you can enjoy life and visit the gardens and baths, and take pleasure until her mourning is complete." Ja'afar replied, "May Allah reward you for your kindness to me." Attaf responded, "Find something you need, O brother."343 He continued to invite Ja'afar into the company of the joyous until the period of mourning had passed, at which point he said to the Wazir, "O Ja'afar, I wish to give you special advice." "What might that be, O brother?" asked Ja'afar, and Attaf replied, "Know, my lord, that many people see the resemblance between you and Ja'afar the Barmecide. Therefore, I must advise you to act discreetly. I will provide you with a group of ten Mamelukes and four mounted attendants; you should sneak out of the city by night and send me news from outside the walls stating that you, the Grand Wazir, Ja'afar the Barmecide, have been summoned back to court on matters from the Sultan. The Governor of Damascus, 'Abd al-Malik bin Marván345 and the elite of Syria will hurry out to greet you with celebrations, and after that, you shall ask the young lady’s father for her hand in marriage. I will arrange for the Kazi and witnesses, and we will quickly draft the marriage document with a dowry of a thousand dinars while you prepare for the journey. If you travel to Homs or Hamah, you can rest wherever you please. I will also provide you with spending money in abundance and everything you need, including clothing, horses, and tents." So what do you think of this plan?" "This is the best advice I could ask for," replied Ja'afar. Thereupon, Attaf gathered his men around Ja'afar and sent him out of the city. Ja'afar composed a message which he sent with twenty horsemen to inform the Governor of Syria that Ja'afar the Barmecide was passing through on urgent business for the Sultan. The Kapújí346 arrived in Damascus and read the Minister's letter347 announcing Ja'afar's return from Egypt. The Governor then sent provisions348 outside the city, commanded the tents to be pitched, and the Grandees of Syria rode out to honor the Minister's return, who entered with great respect and recognition. It was indeed a day to be counted among the happiest days of a man's life, a celebration for everyone present. They read the farmān and offered food and provisions to the Chamberlain, making it widely known that a pardon had been issued to Ja'afar. Following this, Ja'afar summoned the young lady's father. Upon his arrival, Ja'afar asked, "Your daughter has been divorced?" to which the father replied, "Yes; she is at home with me." Ja'afar then said, "I wish to take her as my wife," and the father responded, "I will gladly send her to you." The Governor added, "I will handle the dowry," and the girl's father replied, "It's already taken care of."349 They then called for the Kazi and drafted Ja'afar's marriage contract, and after completing the ceremony, they distributed food and drink to the poor to celebrate the wedding. Abd al-Malik bin Marwan requested Ja'afar to come as his guest and promised a place where he could consummate his marriage. However, Ja'afar declined, saying, "No, I cannot do so; I am on official business for the Commander of the Faithful, and I intend to leave with my bride immediately." The Grandees of Syria spent that night without any of them able to find sleep. As day broke, Ja'afar summoned his father-in-law, saying, "Tomorrow I plan to depart, and I want my bride ready for travel." The father replied, "That is my duty!" Then Abdullah Chelebi returned home and informed his daughter, "O my child, Attaf has divorced you, and Sultan Ja'afar the Barmecide has taken you as his wife. May Allah restore our fortunes and lift our spirits." She remained silent, displeased because she loved Attaf due to their family ties and his generosity. The next day, Ja'afar sent a message to her father, stating that they would begin their journey around mid-afternoon and requested that everything be prepared. The father complied, and when Attaf learned of this, he sent supplies and spending money.350 At the appointed time, the Minister rode out accompanied by the Governor and the Grandees. They brought out a mule-litter351 for the bride, and they continued their procession until they reached the Dome of the Birds,352 where the Minister instructed them to return home, and they obeyed. On their way back, they encountered Attaf coming from the city. He reined in his horse and greeted the Governor and exchanged greetings with the others, who said to him, "Just as we are heading in, you are coming out." Attaf replied, "I had no knowledge he planned to leave today; however, as soon as I confirmed his departure, I gathered his escort and went after him."353 The Governor suggested, "You should hurry to the Dome of the Birds where they have stopped." Attaf followed this advice and, upon reaching the place, dismounted, approached Ja'afar, embraced him, and exclaimed, "Praise be to the Lord, O brother, who returns you home with restored fortune and a strengthened heart." Ja'afar then said, "O Attaf, may Allah grant me the ability to repay your kindness; do not cease to keep me updated about your news." His host obeyed, while Attaf's cousin wife peered out from the litter, tears flowing as she realized the extent of his generosity. This was the situation between Attaf and Ja'afar, but now listen to what happened with Abd al-Malik bin Marwan. As they rode home, someone who bore a grudge against Attaf asked the Governor, "Do you know why he rides out to bid farewell to his former guest at such an odd hour?" "Why's that?" replied the Governor, and the detractor continued, "Ja'afar has been a guest at his home for four months, hiding his identity so that no one except Attaf knew him. Now, Attaf has not gone out for his sake, but because of the woman." "What woman?" asked the Governor, and the other replied, "His former wife, whom he divorced for this stranger and married to him. Today, he is likely going out to ensure that the governance of Syria, which he probably expects, is conferred to him. You should act first before he gets the chance to." The Governor inquired, "Whose daughter is she? Isn't her father Abdullah Chelebi?"354 "Yes, my lord, and I repeat that she was given to Ja'afar for the sake of this marriage." When the Governor heard this, he became extremely angry, more than he had ever been before. However, he hid his rage from Attaf for a while as he plotted to ruin him. Eventually, one day, he ordered the body of a murdered man to be thrown into Attaf's garden. After the body was discovered by his spies, he summoned Attaf, asking, "Who murdered this man in your land?" Attaf replied, "I did." "And why did you kill him?" cried the Governor, "What harm did he do to you?" To which Attaf replied, "O my lord, I confessed to this murder so that the blame and the bloodmoney would be mine alone, preventing others from saying, 'Because of Attaf's garden, we are unjustly condemned to pay a fine.'" Abd al-Malik asked, "Why should I want to collect fines from the people? No, I intend to judge according to the Holy Law, just as Allah has ordained: 'A life for a life.'" He then turned to those present for witnessing and asked them, "What did this man say?" and they replied, "He said, 'I killed him.'" "Is the accused of sound mind, or is he mad?"355 they answered, "He is of sound mind." The Governor then asked the Mufti, "O Efendi, give me your official ruling based on what you heard from the accused." The Judge pronounced the sentence based on the man's confession. Afterward, the Governor ordered his men to raid the house and beat its owner. He called for the executioner, but the notable men interjected, saying, "Delay him; you cannot kill him without further evidence; it would be better to send him to prison." All of Damascus was stirred by this sudden outbreak, captured by shock and confusion. Attaf's friends356 rallied around him, spreading the word that he had only confessed out of fear of subjecting his neighbors to punishment for a murder they did not commit, and thus he was entirely innocent. Abd al-Malik bin Marwan summoned them and said, "If you claim that this accused is mad, you are mistaken; he is the wisest of men. I was determined to spare his life until tomorrow; however, I have been thwarted, and tonight I will have him executed." He returned to the prison, commanding the gaoler to kill Attaf before dawn. Angry and distraught over the planned fate of Attaf, the gaoler visited him and said, "The Governor intends to execute you; he was not satisfied with the pleas made on your behalf by the people, nor with the legal bloodmoney." Attaf wept and said, "Allah (be He magnified and glorified!) has willed that every death has its reason. I only wished to do good for the garden people and protect them from unjust fines; yet this act of kindness has brought about my destruction." After much discussion, the gaoler decided, "Why speak thus? I am determined to set you free, even at the cost of my own life. At this very moment, I will remove your chains and ensure you escape. But first, you must scratch my face, pull out my beard, and tear my clothes. Then, after putting a gag357 in my mouth, you run away and save yourself, while I bear the blame."358 Attaf responded, "May Allah reward you for your mercy!" So, the gaoler did what he promised and allowed his prisoner to escape unscathed, promptly setting off towards Baghdad. Now, as for the Governor of Syria, Abd al-Malik bin Marwan, he took his time until midnight. Then, accompanied by the headsman, he headed for the prison to witness Attaf’s execution. But when he arrived, he found the prison door wide open and the gaoler in distress, his clothing in tatters, his beard plucked, and blood running from his wounds. The pitiable sight left the man in utter ruin. They removed the gag from his mouth, and the Governor asked, "Who has done this to you?" The gaoler replied, "O my lord, last night, around the middle of it, a group of ruffians, like the jinn of our lord Sulayman (Peace be upon him!), attacked me, and before I knew what was happening, they burst into the prison, assaulted me, and when I tried to shout for help, they put this gag in my mouth, battered me, and tore my clothes before leaving. They took Attaf after breaking his chains and ordered him, 'Go lay your grievances before the Sultan.'" Those who accompanied the Governor said, "He’s just a gaoler and the son of a gaoler; never once has he failed to keep a prisoner under lock." Abd al-Malik told the gaoler, "Return home and stay there," and he promptly did so. After this, the Governor took his horse and rode out with his escort, searching for Attaf for four days. Some of them dug deep while others returned empty-handed, reporting they had found no trace of him. So was the plight of the Governor of Syria; now listen to the story of Attaf. He didn’t stop traveling until there was only one stage left before Baghdad when robbers attacked him and stripped him of all his clothes, leaving him to enter the city in the shabbiest state, as naked as when he was born. Just then, a kind soul threw an old garment over him and covered his head with a rag (with unkempt hair falling over his eyes)360. He then asked for the residence of the Wazir Ja'afar, and the people guided him there. However, when he tried to enter, the guards stopped him. He stood at the gate until an old man approached him. Attaf asked him, "Do you have an ink set, pens, and paper with you, O Shaykh?" The old man responded, "I do; but what do you need it for? Tell me, so I may write for you." "I will write it myself," Attaf replied. After receiving the supplies, he sat down and composed a letter to Ja'afar detailing everything that had happened to him from start to finish, especially his own shameful predicament.361 He returned the ink and pens to the old man, then went up to the gate and asked the attendants, "Will you not deliver this letter and present it to his Excellency, Ja'afar the Bermaki, the Wazir?" "Hand it here," they responded, and one of them took it to pass it to the Minister when suddenly the cannon fired;362 the palace erupted into chaos, and everyone shouted, "What’s happening?" Many answered, "The Sultan has been blessed with a son, and during the tumult, the letter was lost from his hands, leading to Attaf being taken to prison as a vagabond." Soon after, Ja'afar mounted his horse, and after allowing the Sultan's proclamation about the city decorations to be read aloud, he commanded that all prisoners, including Attaf, be released. When Attaf emerged from prison, he saw the streets adorned with banners and tapestries, and as evening approached, tables with food were laid out, bringing the community together for a shared feast.363 The festivities continued, with music and cannon fire marking the end of the week-long celebrations, during which people mingled freely. One evening, Attaf entered a cathedral-mosque to pray the night prayers when the eunuchs called out, "Get up and leave; we must close the mosque doors, O Attaf," for his name was now widely recognized. He replied, "O man, the Apostle of Allah said, 'Whoever strives for good is as the doer of good, and the doer will be among the people of Paradise'; let me rest in this corner." However, the eunuch insisted, "You must go: just yesterday, someone stole a mat from here, and I will lock the door tight tonight, allowing no one to sleep inside. The Apostle of Allah (may the Almighty bless and protect him!) has forbidden sleeping in mosques at night." Attaf couldn't persuade the Eunuch to allow him to stay, although he desperately said, "I am a stranger to this city and know no one; please allow me to stay for just this one night." When he was refused again, he ventured into the streets, where dogs barked at him, and continued on to the market where the guards called out at him, until finally he stumbled into a dilapidated building. When he fell, he tripped over something, landing face-first on what turned out to be the body of a young man who had recently been murdered. In that moment of clumsiness, he bloodied himself on the corpse. While he hesitated, unsure of what to do next, the Wali and his watchmen, who patrolled the city at night, encountered him; upon seeing him, they surrounded him and took him to jail. We pause in recounting his fate now; let's return to Ja'afar and what happened to him. After parting from Damascus and sending Attaf away from the Dome of the Birds, he thought, "You are on the verge of marrying a lady and traveling until you reach Baghdad, so now you should get some water, perform your ablutions, and pray." As he prepared that evening to go in to Attaf's wife, the tent-pitchers sent ahead to create the wedding pavilion and other tents were busy with their tasks. Ja'afar waited until every eye, no matter how alert, grew tired and sleepy. At that moment, he stood up and entered Attaf's wife's tent. The moment she saw him, she covered her face with her hands as if he were a stranger. "Peace be upon you!" he greeted; she replied, "And peace be upon you, as well as Allah’s mercy and blessings." He continued, "O daughter of my father's brother365, why have you covered your face? There’s nothing shameful in lawful matters." "That is true, my lord," she replied, "but modesty is part of faith. If it is such a small matter for you to take the wife of the man who hosted and served you so well, then I am nothing but a slave in your hands." "Are you the divorced wife of Attaf?" Ja'afar asked, and she confirmed, "I am." He responded, "And why did your husband do this?" She explained, "While I was watering my plants at the window, your Highness gazed at me, and you expressed your love for me to Attaf, who promptly divorced me and made me your wife. That is why I cover my face." Ja'afar said, "You are now forbidden to him and allowed to me; but soon you will become forbidden to me and legal to your husband. So from this moment forth, you are dearer and more precious to me than my eyes, my mother, and my sister. However, returning you to Damascus right now is not wise, for I fear foolish chatter might arise, suggesting, 'Attaf went out to bid Ja'afar farewell, and his wife slept with the latter, thus leaving them with a shared bond.'366 I will take you to Baghdad, where I will provide you with a spacious, well-furnished lodgings, along with ten maids and eunuchs to care for you. While you are with me, I will ensure you receive five golden ducats daily and a monthly wardrobe of luxury garments. Everything in your lodging will belong to you, and any gifts sent your way will also be yours, as people will think you are my bride and treat you with utmost respect, escorting you to the baths and presenting you with extravagant clothing. In this way, you will live in happiness until that time when we see what can be done. So from this moment forth368 cast aside all worries, and be cheerful in heart and spirit, for you will now take the place of my mother and sister, and here you will find nothing but goodness. My initial desire for you, which burned in my heart, has now transformed into a brotherly love that runs deeper than what it was before." Attaf's wife rejoiced with great happiness, and as they traveled, Ja'afar continually outfitted her in the finest clothes, so everyone would recognize her as the Wazir's Consort and treat her with greater respect. This continued until they reached Baghdad, where the attendants carried her Takhtrawan into the Minister's harem, and a room was prepared for her as promised, ensuring she received a monthly allowance of a thousand dinars along with all comforts and pleasures he had promised her. He never allowed his old feelings for her to reignite, nor did he approach her again, instead sending messengers to assure her a swift reunion with her husband. Such was the tale of Ja'afar and Attaf's wife. Now listen to what happened next ... when the Minister returned to his liege lord, who had deeply regretted his absence and felt despondent about losing him. When Ja'afar presented himself before the Caliph, who rejoiced greatly and returned his greetings and wishes for well-being,369 the Commander of the Faithful asked him, "What was the purpose of your travels?" to which Ja'afar replied, "Damascus." "And where did you stay?" "In the house of a man named Attaf," Ja'afar recounted, explaining everything his host had done for him from beginning to end. The Prince of True Believers listened patiently until Ja'afar finished his story, then said to his Treasurer, "Go fetch me the Treasury and bring me a specific book." When the task was completed, the Caliph continued, "Give that book to Ja'afar." When Ja'afar received it and began to read, he found it contained the entire account of the relationship between Attaf and him, and he did not stop until he reached the part where they had bid farewell to one another and Attaf returned home. The Caliph then instructed, "Close the book at the point it concludes the account of your farewell with Attaf and his returning home, and you will understand why I told you not to come near me until you brought what is contained within this book." The Commander of the Faithful returned the book to the Treasurer, commanding, "Take this and place it in the library." Then, turning to Ja'afar, he said, "Truly, Allah (be He exalted and glorified!) has revealed to you all that I read within it, causing me to both weep and laugh simultaneously. So now depart and return home." Ja'afar complied with his wishes and resumed his duties as Wazir, back in good standing. Now, let us return to the focus of our tale regarding Attaf and the consequences he faced after being taken from prison. They immediately brought him before the Kazi, who began questioning him, saying, "Woe unto you! Did you murder this Háshimi?"370 "Yes, I did!" he affirmed. "And why did you kill him?" "I found him in that dilapidated building, and I struck him without hesitation and killed him!" "Are you in your right mind?" "Yes, indeed." "And what is your name?" "I am called Attaf." When the Judge heard this confession repeated thrice, he wrote a letter to the Mufti, informing him of the situation, and the divine, after delivering his judgment, produced a book and inscribed the procès-verbal. He then notified Ja'afar the Wazir about the case for official orders to enact the sentence. Ja'afar took the document, placed his seal and signature upon it, and ordered the execution to proceed. They then led Attaf to the gallows, where he was followed by a multitude of people. As they positioned him under the tree, Ja'afar the Wazir, who was passing with his entourage at that moment, spotted the crowd pouring out of the city. He summoned the Sobáshí371 who approached him and kissed his knee. "What brings about this gathering of people that is as numerous as the dust? What do they want?" the Wazir asked, to which the officer replied, "We are going to hang372 a Syrian who has murdered a young man from a noble family." "And who is this Syrian?" Ja'afar inquired, and the officer answered, "One called Attaf." When Ja'afar heard his name, he cried out, "Bring him to me!" After they removed the noose from Attaf's neck, they stood him before the Wazir, who recognized him immediately despite his disheveled appearance. Ja'afar rushed to him and embraced him, and he too threw himself upon his once-host. "How did you end up in this situation?" Ja'afar asked as he caught his breath, and Attaf replied, "This is the result of our association, which has led me to this fate." They both fainted from the intensity of the moment and when they regained consciousness and stood up, Ja'afar sent Attaf to the Hammam, providing him with fine clothes which he changed into upon leaving. Then the attendants escorted him to the Minister's mansion where both sat, indulging in wine and an early meal374, all the while enjoying conversation. Once they had relaxed and were content, Ja'afar asked him to share the story of everything that had transpired for him since their last parting. So Attaf recounted how he was treated by Abdal-Malik bin Marwan, the Governor of Syria; how he was imprisoned and how his enemy intended to kill him; also how the gaoler devised a plan to save him from death and how he fled until he neared Baghdad, only to be robbed of everything; how he missed an opportunity to meet the Wazir because of the festivities in the city; and, ultimately, everything that had happened to him since being cast out of the cathedral-mosque. In short, he told the whole story beginning to end. Upon hearing this, the Minister rewarded him greatly and quickly ordered that the wedding ceremony between him and his wife be renewed. When she was brought in to visit Ja'afar for the first time, she lost her senses, with her mind clouded, crying out, "Would that I knew whether this is reality or a dream!" Startled as she was, moments later she threw herself onto her husband and exclaimed, "Am I truly seeing you here, or is it only a vision?" "You are seeing me here, in flesh and blood; this is no dream," he replied. Then he sat down beside her and told her all that he had endured—from his tribulations in prison until he emerged. In turn, she recounted how she had lived in Ja'afar's household, enjoying fine food and drink, wearing beautiful clothing, and living in the highest honor and respect. Their joy in their reunion was complete. The following morning, Ja'afar rose and went to the Palace. Upon entering the presence of the Caliph, he relayed everything that had happened to Attaf, detail by detail, and the Commander of the Faithful replied, "This tale is indeed remarkable, the most extraordinary ever encountered." Soon after, he summoned the Treasurer, instructing him to retrieve the book once more from the Treasury. When it was brought to him, the Prince of True Believers took it and handed it to Ja'afar, saying, "Open and read." He read through the full account of Attaf, while the Caliph shed tears and chuckled simultaneously, marveling, "Truly, all strange and wondrous events are recorded and preserved in the treasures of Kings. That’s why I had summoned you in my ire and forbade you my presence until you presented the contents of this volume and could grasp the nature of my tears and laughter. Then you departed from me and were swiftly led by the hand of Destiny to encounter Attaf and all that transpired after. In the end, you returned with the answers I sought." The Caliph then clothed Ja'afar in a splendid robe of honor, instructing his servants, "Bring Attaf to me." They went to fetch him and once he was before the Prince of True Believers, Attaf blessed the Sultan and prayed for his continued success and lasting glory. The Caliph then asked, "O Attaf, what is it you wish?" "O King of the Age, I only request your pardon for Abd al-Malik bin Marwan." "For his wrongdoing?" asked Harun al-Rashid, to which Attaf answered, "O my lord, the wrongdoing did not come from him, but from the one who caused him to act unjustly against me, and I have forgiven him. Additionally, I ask that you write a farmān in your own hand stating that I have sold to the gaoler, and received from him the full value of my slaves and property. Please appoint him as overseer of the Governor of Syria375 and send him a signet ring as a symbol, so no petitions lacking that seal shall be accepted or heard. Please send all of this via a Chamberlain to Damascus." The citizens of Syria were filled with apprehension, fearing the worst from Attaf, when news spread that a Kapuji was coming for the matter concerning Attaf. The people feared greatly and began to murmur, "The head of Abd al-Malik bin Marwan is surely lost, along with all who could speak on his behalf." When the Chamberlain’s arrival was announced, they all rushed out to welcome him, entering amidst great gathered crowds,376 a day to be remembered in the lives of men. Soon, he presented the letter of indemnity, for a pardon can only be secured by those duly authorized to issue it. Then he sent for the gaoler and entrusted him with Attaf's belongings, as well as the signet along with the appointment to supervise the Governor of Syria, stating especially that no order would be deemed valid unless it bore the superior's seal. Abd al-Malik bin Marwan was greatly relieved to see that matters were ending favorably for him when he saw the Kapuji returning to Baghdad to report on his mission. As for Attaf, his friend Ja'afar granted him ranks and presented him with property and wealth that far exceeded what he had previously owned, ensuring he prospered more than ever before.
NOTE ON THE TALE OF ATTAF.
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 Rabí'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,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.
Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, from New York, a correspondent who has already given me helpful assistance and advice on several occasions, generously sent me his copy of the Tale of Attaf (the "C. MS." of the pages above). It's a small 4to with 334 pages, measuring 5 3/4 by 8 inches, and many leaves are damaged and have been repaired; it's written in various handwriting styles, some barely legible, while others are neat and as clear as printed Arabic. A fly-leaf inserted into the Arabic binding is written in cursive and has the title, "A Book embracing many Tales of the Kings, titled 'Stories from the Thousand Nights and a Night'." A note at the end provides the date: "And it was completed on the Fifth Day (Thursday), 9th from the start of the auspicious month Rabí'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 makes what He wills successful, and praise be to God the One." Thus (A.H. 1096 = A.D. 1685), the volume is over 200 years old. Mr. Cotheal purchased it many years ago along with other items among the belongings 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 himself.
The "Tale of Attaf" spans pages 10-50, and it ends abruptly. The way the "Novel" is handled is surprisingly different from the Chavis MS., which is my main text, and its straightforwardness and simplicity give it a European and even classical vibe. It offers a great insight into the liberties that Eastern editors and scribes allowed themselves. In the Cotheal MS., the tone is clearly literary, filled with verses (some of which are repeated from other parts of The Nights) and in Saj'a or Cadence, which the copyist sometimes highlights with red ink. Attaf's wife is a much tougher and more significant character than in my text; she splashes water on her admirer from the street, and when her father forces her to marry him, she "gives him a piece of her mind" as forcefully and sharply as if she were of "Anglo-Saxon" descent; for example, "If you have any manliness or generosity in you, you’ll divorce me like he did." Various episodes, like the brutal Eunuch at Ja'afar's door and the Vagabond in the Mosque, are also included; but I won’t elaborate on this further, as Mr. Cotheal will now express his thoughts.
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 Naïb 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 Naïb who is condemned to death, but is afterwards exiled.
Story of Attaf the generous, and what happened to him with the Wazir Ja'afar who fell in love with a young woman, not realizing she was Attaf's cousin-wife. In his generosity, Attaf divorced her and let her marry Ja'afar. The Naïb of Damascus, feeling jealous of Attaf's closeness to Ja'afar, imprisoned him for treason and seized his property. Attaf escaped from prison and fled to Baghdad, where he arrived in a state of poverty. Accused of assassination, he was sentenced to death, but after being released, he went to Ja'afar, who recognized him and rewarded him along with the Caliph. His wife was returned to him, and after some time, they were sent back to Damascus, where he was appointed Wali in place of the Naïb, who was sentenced to death but was later exiled.
In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, to whom we cry for help.
In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, to whom we seek 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 Mesrúr 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:—
They say God is all-knowing, aware of both the past and the future, and from the histories of the peoples that existed in ancient times (and God knows best!), there was a Caliph of the Caliphs, a true leader, named Harun er-Rashid. One night, he felt very restless, and as sleepiness overcame him, he sat on the bed and put on his pajamas. He then called for Mesrúr, the sword-bearer, who immediately came to him and said, "O Mesrur, the night feels heavy, and I want you to ease my discomfort." Mesrur replied, "O Commander of the Faithful, get up now and go to the palace rooftop. Look at the sky and the twinkling stars and the bright moon while listening to the sound of the flowing streams and the creaking water wheels, as described 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.
A Noria that spills out through her tear spouts is like a distracted lover: She loves her branches (the sweeps or levers) with the magic in her heart until she laughs. She cries and tears stream down her face; she wakes up in the morning only to find herself weeping and complaining.
Then he said, O Commander of the Faithful, the streams also are thus mentioned by one of them:—
Then he said, "O Commander of the Faithful, the streams are also mentioned like this by one of them:—
My favorite is a damsel dispensing drink, and my recreation is a running stream; A damsel whose eyes are a garden of Paradise, and a garden whose springs make a running brook.
My favorite is a girl serving drinks, and my leisure is a flowing stream; A girl whose eyes are like a paradise garden, and a garden whose fountains create a bubbling 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:—
Then again Harun er-Rashid said, "O Mesrur, that is not my desire." Mesrur replied, "O Commander of the Faithful, in your palace there are three hundred and sixty beautiful women, your concubines and slaves. They resemble rising moons and graceful gazelles, dressed in elegant robes like flowers. Walk around the palaces and from your hiding place, watch each one enter her room, admiring her beauty and stunning dresses, all expressing their joy and happiness as they won't know you are watching. Listen to their singing, their laughter, and their joyful gatherings in their rooms. Perhaps you will connect with one who will entertain you, keep you awake, and be your companion, easing your restlessness." But he replied, "O Mesrur, bring my cousin Ja'afar the Barmeky to me immediately." Mesrur answered, "Hearing is obedience." He went to Ja'afar's house and said, "Come to the Commander of the Faithful." Ja'afar replied, "To hear is to obey." He dressed and went with Mesrur to the Caliph. After kissing the ground before him, he said, "May it be good! O Commander of the Faithful." The Caliph responded, "It’s all good, but I'm very weary tonight, and I sent for you to distract me and lift my unrest." Ja'afar said, "Let's go out into the palace garden, listen to the birds sing, smell the flowers, and let the cool breeze refresh us. It will ease our worries and lift our spirits." The Rawi mentioned that Ja'afar was very close to the Caliph due to their bond. So, the Caliph, along with Ja'afar and Mesrur, went to the garden. The Caliph became thoughtful and started to inquire about the trees, flowers, fruits, and their colors. Enjoying this, he walked around for an hour, visiting the palaces and houses, moving from place to place and market to market. As they walked, they stopped in front of a bookshop. The Caliph opened a bookcase, began browsing through the books, picked one up, opened it, and suddenly burst into laughter, falling back. He read it again and wept until his beard was wet with tears. After wrapping the book up, he tucked it into his sleeve. Ja'afar asked, "O Commander of the Faithful and Lord of the two worlds, what made you laugh and then cry at the same time?" The Caliph, angered by his question, yelled, "Barmeky dog, what gives you the audacity to meddle in matters that don’t concern you? Why poke into what isn’t your business? You've become bothersome and arrogant, going beyond your place, as if challenging the Caliph himself. I swear by my ancestors, if you don’t bring me someone who can tell me what that book contains from start to finish, I'll have your head." When Ja'afar heard this and saw his fury, he said, "O Commander of the Faithful, I've made a mistake: I’m at fault here, and forgiveness befits you; the Caliph responded, "I swore an oath, you must bring me that person to explain the book or I'll execute you this very hour." Ja'afar said, "O Commander of the Faithful, God created the heavens and the two worlds in six days; if He willed it, He could have done it in an hour. He did this as a lesson to His worshipers not to rush to judgment but to be patient. So, O Lord, please be patient with me for just three days." The Caliph replied, "If you don’t bring me the person I mentioned, I will ensure you suffer the worst death." Hearing this, Ja'afar said, "I’ll go on your mission." He returned home with a heavy heart to his father Yahya and brother El-Fadl to say goodbye and to weep. They asked him, "What troubles you?" He recounted what had happened with the Caliph and the death sentence if he didn’t comply within three days, saying, "The Caliph seeks my life; one who pokes a point will get pierced. A person who fights a lion will end up dead. I can no longer stay with him; it’s too dangerous for me and for you, O my father, and for you, O my brother. I must travel far away from his sight. Life is not valued much anymore; distance is the best way to protect ourselves," as the poet said:—
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.
Save your life if threatened by danger, and leave the house to
complain about the builder:
You'll find land upon land, but not another life like your own.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 Teniyát al-Igáb 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:—
When he was done, his father and brother said to him, "Don't do that, because the Caliph might show you mercy." Ja'afar replied, "Only good will come from my journey." He then went to his treasure room, took out a purse with 1,000 dinars, mounted his horse, strapped on his sword, said goodbye to his father and brother, and set out at the right time; without taking any servants, whether slave or boy, he quickly continued on his way, traveling day and night for twenty days until he reached the city of Aleppo without stopping, passing through Hamah and Homs until he arrived at Teniyát al-Igáb and entered Damascus. There, he saw the Minaret of the Bride from bottom to top covered in gilded tiles, surrounded by meadows and irrigated gardens filled with all kinds of flowers, fields of myrtle, mountains of violets, and all the other beauties of the gardens. He took in these charms while listening to the birds singing in the trees; and he saw a city like none other in the world. Turning to his right and left, he noticed a man standing nearby and asked him, "Excuse me, what's the name of this city?" The man replied, "My lord, in ancient times, this city was called Jullag, the same name 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 long:—
I am called Jullag and my heart is attached here; the waters flow in and out of me. The Garden of Eden on earth, the birthplace of fairies: I will never forget your beauty, O Damascus, for no one but you will I ever long for:—
Blessed be the wonders that glitter on thy roofs (expanse).
Blessed are the wonders that sparkle on your rooftops.
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 Dibáj, 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:—
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 with the explanation of the name and got off his horse to take a stroll through the streets, by the grand houses and the domes (mosques). While he was exploring the various places and their beauties, he noticed a silk brocade tent called Dibáj, filled with carpets, furniture, cushions, silk curtains, chairs, and beds. A young man was sitting on a mattress, looking like a rising moon, like the shining orb during its full phase. He was casually dressed, wearing a headscarf and a rose-colored robe; in front of him were a group of people and drinks fit for kings. Ja'afar paused and began to appreciate the scene, pleased with what he saw of the youth; then, looking further, he spotted a young woman who looked like the sun in a clear sky, who took her lute and played 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
lover.
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?).
Evil to those who hold their hearts captive to their lovers, for in gaining it they will destroy it: They abandon it once they see it filled with desire; when they witness that desire, they walk away. Nursling, they tear it out from the very depths: O bird, repeat "Nursling, they have torn you out!" They have unjustly slain it: the beloved flirts with the humble lover. The seeker of love's effects, love is I, brother of love, and sigh Behold the man struck by love, though his heart does not change, 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:—
The Rawi said that Ja'afar was happy and he thrilled at hearing the song, and all his senses were stirred by the girl’s voice. He said, "I swear, it’s beautiful." Then she started singing again, reciting the following verses:—
With these sentiments thou art in love, it is not wonderful that I should love thee:
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.
With these feelings, you are in love; it’s no surprise that I love you too. I reach out my hand to you, asking for mercy and kindness because of my humility—may you be generous. My life has been spent seeking your approval, but I haven't found the courage to be generous. As a result, I’ve become a slave to love; my heart is trapped, and my tears keep falling.
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:—
When the poem was done, Ja'afar became more and more captivated by the pleasure of watching and listening to the young woman. The young man, who had been lying down, sat up and called to a few of his friends, saying, “Do you see that young man standing in front of us?” They replied, “Yes,” and he continued, “He must be a stranger; I can tell from the signs of travel on him. Bring him to me, but make sure not to offend him.” They answered eagerly and happily, then went over to Ja'afar. While he was admiring the young woman, he noticed the boy who approached him and said, “In the name of God, my lord, please be kind enough to come see our master.” Ja'afar followed the boy to the tent door, got off his horse, and entered just as the young man was rising to his feet. The young man extended his hands and greeted him as if they had always known each other. After he recited a prayer for the messenger of Allah, he began to sing:—
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.
O my visitor, welcome! You bring us joy and unite us: I live when I see your face, and I die when it’s gone.
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 God):—
Then he said to Ja'afar, "Please take a seat, my dear sir; thank God for your wonderful arrival;" and he carried on with his chant after another prayer to the envoy (of God):—
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.
If we had known you were coming, we would have covered your heart with the darkness of our eyes, and we would have paved the street with our cheeks so that your arrival could 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:—
After that, he got up, kissed Ja'afar's chest, praised his strength, and said, "Oh, my Master, today is a wonderful day, and if it weren't a fast day, I would have fasted for you to thank God." Then the servants came, and he told them, "Bring us what’s ready." They set the table with food, and the young man said, "Oh, my lord, the Sages say, if you’re invited, be content with what’s provided; but if you’re not invited, don’t stay or visit again. If we had known you were coming today, we would have sacrificed our own bodies and our children for you." Ja'afar replied, "I reached for the food and ate until I was full, while he offered me delicate bites and enjoyed hosting me." Once we were done, they brought the pitcher and basin, we washed our hands, and then we moved into the drinking room where he told the young lady to sing. She picked up her lute, tuned it, and, with it against her chest, she began:—
A visitor of whom the sight is venerated by all, sweeter than either spirit or
hope:
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.
A visitor whose presence is cherished by everyone, more delightful than any spirit or hope: He casts his dark hair over the morning light, and the shameful sunrise never happened; And when I felt my life slipping away, I sought his protection, and his arrival brought my soul back from death: I've become a servant to the Prince of Lovers, and my own creation was the realm of love.
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:—
The Rawi says that Ja'afar was filled with immense joy, just like the young man, but he couldn’t shake off his fear because of his situation with the Caliph. This worry showed on his face, and the young man noticed he was anxious, scared, lost in thought, and unsure. Ja'afar realized that the young man felt awkward about asking him about his situation and what was bothering him, but the young man 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
favourites.
Don't worry about things that are coming, push away your cares with a drink: Can't you see that beautiful flowers are painted on the drink's robes? Gifts from the vine, lilies and daffodils, violets, and the striped flower of N'uman: If troubles catch up to you, lull them to sleep with drinks, flowers, and loved ones.
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.
Then he said to Ja'afar, "Don’t hold back," and to the girl, "Sing." She sang, and Ja'afar, who was thrilled with her songs, said, "Let’s keep enjoying ourselves, switching between conversation and song until the day ends and night falls 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 portière 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:—
The young man instructed the servants to bring out the horses, and they presented his guest with a mare fit for royalty. We got on (said Ja'afar), and as we entered Damascus, I started exploring the bazaars and streets until we reached a large square. In the center stood two stone benches known as mastabas before a high doorway, brightly lit with various lights, and hanging in front of a curtain was a lamp on a golden chain. There were tall domes surrounded by beautiful statues, filled with different kinds of birds and plenty of flowing water, and in the center was a hall with silver windows. He opened it and found a view of a garden like Paradise, alive with the songs of birds, the scents of flowers, and the gentle rippling of streams. The house, filled with fountains and birds singing in every language, was covered with silk rugs and furnished with cushions made of brocade. It held numerous expensive items of all kinds, smelled sweet with floral and fruity aromas, and featured every imaginable thing, like silver and gold plates, drinking vessels, and a censer for ambergris, aloe powder, and various dried fruits. In short, it was a house like the one described by the poet:—
Society became perfectly brilliant in its beauty and shone in the eclat of its magnificience.
Society became incredibly beautiful and radiated with the brilliance of its magnificence.
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 verses:—
Ja'afar said, "When I sat down, the young man came up to me and asked, 'Where are you from?' I replied, 'I'm from Basora, a soldier by trade, in charge of a company of men, and I used to pay a quit-rent to the Caliph. I became afraid for my life because of him, so I fled with my head down in fear, and I’ve been wandering around the country and the deserts until fate brought me to you.' The young man responded, 'A blessed arrival! What’s your name?' I replied, 'My name is like yours.' Hearing this, he smiled and said with a laugh, 'Oh my lord, Abu 'l-Hasan, don’t let your heart be troubled or your spirit be weighed down.' Then he called for a feast, and they set a table for us with all sorts of delicacies, and we ate until we were satisfied. Afterward, they cleared the table and brought back a ewer and basin so we could wash our hands, and then we went to the drinking room, which was a lovely space filled with fruits and beautiful flowers. He spoke to the singer for music, and she sang, delighting both Ja'afar and the young man with her performance. The atmosphere itself was lively, and in his joy, Ja'afar took off his robes and ripped them. Then the young man said to him, 'By God, may the ripping be a result of pleasure and not sorrow or caprice, and may God keep the bitterness of your enemies far away from you.' Then he went to a chest,' Ja'afar continued, 'and pulled out a complete outfit worth a hundred dinars, and after dressing me, he said to the singer, 'Change the tune of your lute.' She did so and sang the following verses:"
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.
My jealous gaze is fixed on him, and if he shows interest in someone else, I can’t help but feel restless. I stop my pleas and my song, crying out, “Your friendship will last in my heart until death.”
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:—
The narrator said: When she finished her poem, Ja'afar took off the last dress and cried out, and the young man said, May God improve your life and make its beginning the end. Then he went to the chest and pulled out a dress that was even nicer than the first and put it on Ja'afar, and the young woman remained quiet for an hour during their conversation. The young man said, Listen, my lord Abu 'l-Hasan, to what people of note have said about this valley, once known as the Valley of Rabwat, in which we now are and mentioned 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.
O bounty of our Night in the valley of Rabwat where the gentle breeze brings in her fragrances: It is a valley whose beauty is like that of a necklace: trees and flowers surround it. Its fields are covered with every kind of flower, and the birds fly above them; When the trees saw us sitting beneath them, they dropped their fruits on us. We kept exchanging the flowing bowls of conversation and poetry along the edges of its gardens, The valley was generous, and her breezes brought 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:—
So when the young man finished his recitation, he turned to the girl and asked 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
it.
I find in thee a heart harder than that of others and the hearts consume my
being.
I crave it when I hear him speak in a way that's so sweet it feels like it melts away: My heart races when he sees it; is it any wonder a drunk person would start dancing? This has become my lot in life, but I have no way to get it here on earth. Oh Lord! Show me the mistake I've made; maybe I can fix it. I find that your heart is harder than others, and their hearts are consuming my existence.
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:—
Now that she was done, Ja'afar joyfully took off the third dress. The young man got up, kissed Ja'afar on the head, and then brought him another outfit and put it on him since he was the most generous person of his time. He entertained Ja'afar with the news of the day and talked about great poems and stories, saying, "Oh my lord, don't burden yourself with worries." The Rawi says they lived like this for forty days, and on the forty-first day, Ja'afar said to the young man, "You should know, oh my lord, that I haven't left my homeland for food or drink, but to enjoy myself and see the world. If God allows me to return home to talk to my people, neighbors, and friends, and they ask me where I've been and what I've seen, I will tell them about your kindness and the wonderful gifts you've showered upon me in Damascus. I'll say I've seen this and that, entertaining them with everything I discovered in Damascus and its beauty." The young man replied, "You're right." Ja'afar added, "I want to explore the city, its markets, and its streets." The young man responded, "With pleasure, tomorrow morning if God wills." That night, Ja'afar stayed there, and when morning came, he woke up, went to the young man, wished him good morning, and said, "Oh my lord, your promise!" He replied, "With pleasure," and arranged for a white dress for him. He also gave Ja'afar a purse of three hundred dinars, saying, "Give this to charity and return quickly after your visit," then instructed his servants, "Bring a horse for your lord to ride." But Ja'afar said, "I don't want one, because a rider can't see the people, only the people see him." The young man, named Attaf, said, "Oh my lord, as you wish; just don’t be gone too long because your absence pains me." Then he handed Ja'afar a grain of red musk, saying, "Take this and keep it with you. If you go anywhere that smells bad, smell the musk." Ja'afar the Barmeky (may God have mercy on him!) said, "After that, I left him and started walking through the streets and neighborhoods of Damascus. I walked on until I reached the Mosque of the Omeyyads, where I saw a fountain spraying water from the top, falling like serpents in flight. I sat down under the pulpit; and since it was Friday, I listened to the preacher, prayed the Friday prayer, and stayed until I performed the afternoon prayer. After that, I went to distribute the money I had, and then 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.
I see the beauty combined in the mosque of Jullag, and around her, the essence of beauty is revealed; If people are talking in the mosques, let them know 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'údí 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:—
Then I left the mosque and started walking through the neighborhoods and streets until I came across an impressive house, grand in its wealth and sturdy in its construction, adorned with a gold trim that amazed the mind with its beauty. It displayed silk curtains embroidered with gold, and there were two carpeted steps in front of the door. I sat down on one of the steps and began to think about myself, the events that had happened to me, and my ignorance of what had occurred after I left. In the midst of my sadness reflecting on my troubles, with the wind blowing against me, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until a sprinkle of water fell on me. When I opened my eyes, I saw a young woman behind the curtain, dressed in a morning gown with a Saudi headband on her forehead. Her expression and eyelids were full of artistry, and her eyebrows were like the edges of light's wings. The storyteller mentions she resembled a full moon. When I looked at her (Ja'afar continued), that gaze brought a thousand sighs, and I stood up, feeling completely different. The young woman called out to me, and I replied, "I am your servant, my lady; I am at your command." But she said, "No 'lab bayk' and no favor for you! Is this house yours?" I replied, "No, my lady," to which she responded, "You street dog, this house isn’t yours; why are you sitting here?" When Ja'afar heard this, he was incredibly embarrassed, but he gathered his courage and pretended to be calm, saying, "My lady, I’m just resting here to recite some verses I have composed for you." Then she asked, "And what did you say 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
content.
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.
She showed up in a pale robe with eyes and expressions full of wonder. I said she came out without a greeting, and I'm completely happy with her. Blessed be He who decorated your cheeks with roses; He can create whatever He wants without any limits. Your dress, like your fate, is like 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:—
When he finished these verses, he said, "I've written more about your 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.
Do you see through her veil that face shining like the moon on the horizon? Its brilliance lights up the shadows of her temples, causing the sun to fade away. Her forehead outshines the rose and the apple, and her gaze and expression captivate everyone. If anyone were to see her, they would become a victim of love and 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 Dabdihkán. 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:—
Upon hearing this recitation, the young lady said to Ja'afar, "You poor guy, what is this talk that isn’t for someone like you? Get up and leave with God's curse and Satan's protection." Ja'afar stood up, filled with a powerful mix of anger and love; and in his love for her, he left and returned to his friend Attaf’s house, greeting him with a heavy heart. As soon as Attaf saw him, he threw himself into Ja'afar's arms and kissed him on the forehead, saying, "My lord, your absence has left me feeling so lonely today." Then Attaf looked at Ja'afar, seeing many unspoken words on his face, and continued, "My lord, I see that your face has changed and you're not yourself." Ja'afar replied, "My lord, ever since I left you, I’ve been suffering from a headache and anxiety because I was sleeping so uncomfortably. The people in the mosque performed the afternoon prayer without my noticing, and now I need to get an hour of sleep; hopefully, that will help me feel better." Attaf then went inside and ordered cushions and a bed to be set up for him. Ja'afar lay down on it, feeling down and low, and as he covered himself, he started to think about the young lady and the harsh words she had said to him, which were so out of line. He also thought about her beauty, the elegance of her figure, and the perfection that God (blessed be He!) had granted her. He completely forgot everything else that had happened to him, including his issues with the Caliph, his friends, and his social life. Such was the weight of his thoughts that he became obsessed, and his health declined. In response, Attaf called for doctors, who gathered around him constantly, trying their best, but no one could find a cure. He remained in this state for a while without anyone understanding his condition. Attaf became distressed, giving up all entertainment and pleasures, and as Ja'afar's situation worsened, so did Attaf's concern. One day, a new doctor arrived, a skilled expert in matters of the heart, named Dabdihkán. When he examined Ja'afar, looked at his face, and felt his pulse, finding everything normal with no pain, he realized that Ja'afar was in love. Therefore, he wrote a prescription and slipped it under Ja'afar's head, saying, "Your cure is under your head; I've prescribed a laxative. If you take it, you'll feel better," as he was too embarrassed to tell Attaf about Ja'afar’s love woes. Then, the doctor went to see other patients, and as Attaf was about to enter and check on Ja'afar, he heard him reciting 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.
A doctor came to me one day, took my hand, and felt my pulse. When I told him to let go of my hand because the fire was in my heart, he said, "Drink rose syrup mixed well with the water of the tongue, but don’t tell anyone." I replied, "I know rose syrup all too well; it’s the tears that break my heart." But is there a way to get the water of the tongue so I can cool the burning fire inside me? The doctor said, "You’re in love." I agreed, and he said, "The 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 Hakím. 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-Iráq 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 díbáqy 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 Naïb 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 Naïb 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 Naïb of Damascus to announce the arrival of Ja'afar on business of the Caliph. As soon as the Naïb 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 Amír '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 Naïb 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 Naïb 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 Naïb 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 Naïb 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 'Iqáb 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:—
Then when Attaf went in to see him after the reading was done, he sat at the head of the bed and asked Ja'afar how he was doing and what the Hakím had prescribed for him. Ja'afar said, "Oh my lord, he wrote me a note that’s under the pillow." Attaf reached out, took the note, and read it. It said: "In the name of God the Healer—Take, with the help and blessing of God, 3 miskals of pure presence of the beloved, free from absence and fear of being watched; plus, 3 miskals of a good meeting, free from any trace of abandonment and separation; plus, 2 okes of pure friendship and discretion, free from the wood of separation. Then take some essence of the incense from kisses, teeth, and waist, 2 miskals of each; also take 100 kisses of pomegranate, smoothed and rounded, of which 50 should be sugared, 30 like a pigeon, and 20 like little birds. Take 2 miskals each of Aleppine twist and sigh from Al-Iráq; also 2 okes of tongue-sucking and kissing the mouth and lips, all to be ground and mixed. Then put on a fire 3 drams of Egyptian grain with a lovely bit of plumpness, boil it in love-water and syrup of desire over a fire made of pleasurable wood. Pour everything onto a royal dibaqy divan and add to it 2 okes of saliva syrup, and drink it on an empty stomach for 3 days. For dinner, have the melon of desire mixed with embrace-almonds and juice of the lemon of harmony, and finally, 3 rolls of thigh-work, then go to the bath for your health. —Peace!" When Attaf finished reading the note, he laughed at the prescription and turned to Ja'afar, asking him who he was in love with and who had captured his heart. Ja'afar remained silent, not speaking or starting any conversation, when Attaf said, "Oh my brother, you're not just my friend, but you are esteemed in my house as the soul is in the body. For the past four months we've shared friendship, companionship, and conversation. Why hide your situation? I worry and feel sorrow for you. You are a stranger here, not from this city. I am from this capital; I can help you with the troubles you're facing. By my life, which is yours, by our bread and salt together, reveal to me your secret." Attaf kept insisting until Ja'afar finally said, "I can no longer keep it hidden, and I won't blame anyone who loves and is restless." He then recounted his story from start to finish, telling Attaf what the young lady had said and done, and finally describing the neighborhood and the place. When Attaf heard Ja'afar's words, he thought about the description of the house and the young lady and realized that it was his own house, and the young lady was his cousin-wife. He said to himself, "There is no power or strength except in Allah the Most High, the Great. We are from God and to Him, we return." Then he thought of his own generosity and encouraged himself, saying, "Oh Attaf! God has blessed me and made me worthy to do good, and He has sent me this stranger bound in friendship, who has formed ties with me. His heart is attached to the young woman, and his love for her has nearly consumed him. Since that time he has been on the brink of ruin, in such a miserable condition, and he hopes for my assistance to solve his troubles. He has finally revealed his situation after keeping it hidden for so long; if I do not help him in his misfortune, I would be like someone building on water, aiding in his destruction. By the bounty of my God, I will assist him with my wealth and my soul. I will divorce my cousin and marry her to him, and I won’t change my character, my generosity, or my determination." The narrator says that this young woman was his cousin and also his second wife, as he was already married to another, and she lived in his house, which contained all that he owned—property, servants, and slaves. He also had another house for guests to eat, drink, and socialize with his friends. However, he did not mention this to his cousin-wife during his visits. When he learned that Ja'afar was in love with her, he couldn't help but say to him, "Don't worry, I'll take it upon myself to lift your sorrow, and soon I'll have news of her. If she is the daughter of the Naïb of Damascus, I will take the necessary steps for you, even if it costs me everything; and if she is a slave girl, I will buy her for you, even if it takes all I possess." Thus, he did his best to ease Ja'afar's distress. He then left his own house and entered his cousin-wife's house without changing his usual behavior or saying anything except to his servants, "Go to my uncle’s and bring him to me." The boy went to fetch the uncle and brought him to Attaf, who, upon the uncle's arrival, rose to greet him, embraced him, and had him sit down. After a while, Attaf approached him and said, "Oh my uncle! There is nothing but good! Know that when God intends good for his servant, He shows him the way, and my heart is set on Mecca, to visit the house of God and the tomb of Muhammad (may the most noble prayers and the most complete salutations be upon him). I have decided to visit these places this year, and I cannot leave behind any ties or debts, nothing that could disturb my mind, for no one knows who will be a friend tomorrow. Here, then, is the divorce document for your daughter and my other wife." When his uncle heard this, he was troubled and exaggerated the situation in his mind, saying, "Oh son of my brother, what is pushing you to this? If you depart and leave her and stay away for as long as you want, she is still your wife and dependent, which is enough." But Attaf replied, "Oh my uncle, what’s done is done." As soon as the young wife heard that, grief engulfed her; she became like someone in mourning and was on the verge of taking her own life, for she loved her husband due to their relationship and his upbringing. But Attaf did this just to please Ja'afar, and it was driven by his duty to help his fellow beings. Then Attaf left the house and thought, "If I delay this, it will spread and reach my friend, who will suffer and feel ashamed to marry, and then my efforts will be in vain." Attaf's divorce of his second wife was solely for the sake of his cousin-wife, so there would be no barrier to the success of his plan. He then went to his guesthouse and visited Ja'afar, who, upon seeing him, asked where he had been. Attaf replied, "Don't worry, oh my brother, I am now focused on your affair; I have found the young lady and I know her. She is divorced from her husband and her waiting period is not yet over, so rejoice and be happy, for when her required waiting time is complete, I will marry her to you." Attaf continued to cheer him up with food, drinks, entertainment, music, and performances until he confirmed that the waiting period of his cousin had ended. Then he went to Ja'afar and said, "Know, oh my lord, that the father of the young woman you saw is one of my friends, and if I betroth her, it wouldn't be proper for me, and he will say, 'My friend hasn't done well by marrying my daughter to a stranger I don't know.' He will take her away to his homeland, and we will be separated. Now, I have an idea that has come to me, and it is to send for you a tent with ten mamluks and four servants on horses and mules, along with luggage, supplies, chests of clothes, and gilded vehicles. Everything I have mentioned will be placed outside the city so that no one will know who you are, and I will tell them that you are Ja'afar the Barmakid, the Caliph’s advisor. I will go to the Kady, the Wali, and the Naïb and inform them about you, so they will come out to meet and greet you. You must also say that you have come on business from the Caliph and that you have heard Damascus is a beautiful and hospitable city, and share that you want to visit it, and if it proves favorable to you, you will stay and marry to establish a connection and friendship with its people, and that you would like them to find you a person of high standing and noble lineage who has a beautiful cousin for you to marry." Attaf then said to Ja'afar, "Oh my lord, we have someone here who has a daughter of noble origin; the man is such-and-such. Ask him for her hand in marriage and say to him, 'Here is her dowry, which is everything you have in the chests.' Then take out a purse of a thousand dinars and distribute it among those present, display the traits of the Barmakid family, and order them to draft the marriage contract immediately. If they sign it, tell them that you will not enter the city because you are busy, and your bride will come to you. If you do this, you will achieve what you desire, God willing. Then leave immediately, order the tents to be taken down, load up the camels, and head back to your country in peace. Know that all I do for you is little compared to the rights of friendship and loyalty." Ja'afar sprang up to kiss Attaf's hand, but was stopped; then he thanked and praised him and spent the night with him. The next morning at dawn, he got up, performed his ablutions, and after saying his morning prayer, he accompanied his host to the city outskirts. Attaf had a large tent set up and everything necessary brought to it: horses, camels, mules, servants, mamluks, chests with supplies for distribution, and boxes full of gold and silver coins. He dressed his guest in a robe fit for an advisor, set up a throne for him, and sent some servants to the Naïb of Damascus to announce Ja'afar’s arrival on the Caliph's business. When the Naïb of Damascus learned this, he went out along with the city's notable figures and greeted the advisor Ja'afar, bowing low and saying to him, "Oh my lord, why did you not inform me sooner so we could prepare for your arrival?" Ja'afar said, "That was not necessary; may God increase your wealth. I have not come but to visit this city; I wish to stay here for some time and I also want to marry. I have heard that Amír ‘Amr has a daughter of noble descent; I hope you will bring her before you and arrange her betrothal to me." The Naïb replied, "You will have what you seek." Her husband has divorced her and is heading to al-Hejaz for the pilgrimage, and after her waiting period is over, there will be no impediment to the betrothal. At the proper time, the Naïb brought the young lady's father and discussed what the advisor Ja'afar had proposed, asking him to arrange the betrothal, so the father simply replied, "I hear and obey." The narrator says that Ja'afar ordered the dress of honor to be brought, and gold to be distributed, commanding the presence of the Kady and witnesses. When they arrived, he instructed them to write the marriage contract. He then displayed ten chests and ten bags of gold, the bride's dowry, and everyone present, from the high to the low, rich and poor, offered him their best wishes and congratulations. After the father of the young lady accepted the dowry, he asked the Kady to write the contract and presented a piece of satin to him; he also called for sugar-water to drink and set before them a feast, where they ate and washed their hands. Afterward, they served sweet dishes and fruits. Once they finished and the contract was finalized, the Naïb of Damascus said to the advisor, "Oh my lord, I will prepare a house for you and your wife." Ja'afar replied, "That cannot be; I am here on a commission from the Commander of the Faithful, and I wish to take my wife with me to Baghdad where we will have the wedding celebrations." The lady's father said, "Go to your bride and leave when you want." Ja'afar responded, "I cannot do that; I want you to prepare your daughter’s trousseau and have it ready to leave today." The father of the bride said, "We are only waiting for the Naïb of Damascus to depart to do what the advisor commands." He replied, "With pleasure." The lady's father began preparing her trousseau and getting her ready. He took her out, arranged her trousseau, placed her in a Hodaj, and when she arrived at Ja'afar's camp, her family bid their farewells and left. Once Ja'afar had traveled a distance from Damascus and reached Tiniat el 'Iqáb, he looked back and saw a horseman approaching; he instructed his attendants to stop. As the rider drew closer, Ja'afar recognized it was Attaf. He had come out to him, calling, "Don't rush, oh my brother!" When Attaf reached him, he embraced Ja'afar and said, "Oh my lord, I found no peace without you, oh my brother Abu 'l-Hasan. It would have been better if I'd never seen you or known you because now I can't bear your absence." Ja'afar expressed his gratitude and said, "I could never act against your wishes and provisions, but we pray to God to bring us closer together and never let us be separated again. He is Almighty and does what He wills." After that, Ja'afar dismounted, laid out a silk carpet, and they sat together. Attaf laid out a table with duck, chicken, sweets, and other delicacies; they enjoyed their meal and he brought out dried fruits and wine. They feasted for an hour before they remounted their horses, and Attaf walked with Ja'afar for a while on his journey, at which point Ja'afar said to him, "Every traveler must return," and he embraced him tightly, kissing him and saying, "Oh my brother Abu 'l-Hasan, don’t stop sending your letters; keep me informed about yourself and your condition as if I were with you." They then said their farewells and each went their own way. When the young wife noticed that the camels had halted, along with their people, she peeked out from the Hodaj and saw her cousin dismounting with Ja'afar, sharing food and drinks together until they reached the end of the road, where they bid farewell, exchanging poetry. She thought, "The one, I swear, is my cousin Attaf, and the other is the man I saw sitting under the window, the one I sprinkled water on. He must be my cousin's friend. He has fallen in love with me and, confiding in my cousin, described me and my home to him. The devotion in his character and the greatness of his soul must have compelled him to divorce me and take steps to marry me to that man." The narrator mentions that as Attaf bid farewell to Ja'afar, he left him joyful with the young lady for whom he was nearing ruin out of love, and he had made a friend in Attaf, whom he intended to reward for his kindness. He was so pleased to have the young wife that everything that had transpired with Er-Rashid slipped from his mind. Meanwhile, she was weeping, mourning what had become of her—her separation from her cousin, parents, and homeland, lamenting her actions and what she had lost; her burning tears flowed as she recited these verses:—
I weep for these places and these beauties; blame not the lover if some day he's
insane:
For the places the dear ones inhabit. O praise be to God! how sweet is their
dwelling!
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.
I mourn for these places and these beauties; don't blame the lover if one day he loses his mind: For the places where my loved ones live. Oh, thank God! how sweet is their home! God protect the memories of the past days spent with you, my dear friends, and may happiness keep us together in the same place! After finishing this recitation, she cried and lamented and recited again:— I'm amazed at living without you and the troubles that fall upon us: I long for you, dear ones who are far away; my broken heart is still with you. Then, still crying and lamenting, she continued:— Oh you to whom I gave my soul, come back; I wanted to take it from you, but I couldn't: So have mercy on the rest of a life I've sacrificed for you; before I die, my final look will be for you: If I've lost all of you, I won't be surprised; my surprise would be if you belong to someone else.
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 Naïb 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 Naïb 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 Naïb of Damascus replied, Thou has spoken well, bring him to me immediately. The Naïb 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 Naïb 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 Naïbat 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 Emírs 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 Naïb 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 couplet:—
Presently, Wazir Ja'afar approached the palanquin and said to the young wife, "Oh mistress of the palanquin, you have brought us to ruin." When she heard him, she responded with sadness and humility, "We shouldn’t be talking to you, as I am the cousin-wife of your friend and companion Attaf, the prince of generosity and devotion. If you have any sense of what it means to be a good man, you should do for him what he, in his loyalty, has done for you." Upon hearing this, Ja'afar became troubled, and realizing how serious the situation was, he asked the young lady, "Oh, so you are his cousin-wife?" She replied, "Yes! I am the one you saw on that particular day when this and that happened, and your heart became attached to me. You told him everything. He divorced me, and while I was waiting for my waiting period to end, you distracted him, and that was the reason for all my troubles. Now that I’ve explained my situation, act like a man." When Ja'afar heard her words, he cried out, "We are from God and to Him we shall return. Oh you! You are now an obligation to me and a sacred trust until you return to wherever you wish." Then he said to a servant, "Take good care of your mistress." After that, they set off on their journey day and night. However, Er-Rashid, after Ja'afar's departure, grew anxious and sad about his absence. He lost patience, tortured by a strong desire to see him again, regretting the demands he had imposed that forced Ja'afar into a life of wandering and separation from his homeland. He sent envoys to search for him everywhere but received no news and was increasingly distressed by his absence. He kept waiting for updates, and when Ja'afar was nearing Baghdad and he, Er-Rashid, got the good news of his arrival, he went out to greet him. When they met, they embraced each other, filling the Caliph with joy and relief. They entered the palace together, and the Prince of True Believers seated Ja'afar beside him, asking, "Tell me the story of where you have been during your absence and what you have encountered." Ja'afar then recounted everything that had happened from the time he left until he stood before him again. Er-Rashid was greatly astonished and said, "By God, your absence has filled me with sorrow and great desire to see your friend. I think you should divorce this young lady and send her back home with someone you trust. If your friend has an enemy, let that person become our enemy, and if he has a friend, let him also be ours; then we will bring him to us, and we will enjoy his company and listen to him share his stories. A man like him should not be overlooked; we could learn from his generosity, charity, and valuable insights." Ja'afar replied, "I will do as you say." Ja'afar arranged for the young lady a spacious home, servants, and a lovely garden; he treated generously those who had come with her as followers. He also sent her sets of furniture, mattresses, and everything she might need, all while keeping his distance from her. He sent her greetings and comforting words that she would be returned to her cousin, and he provided her with a monthly allowance of a thousand dinars in addition to her living expenses. As for Ja'afar, after he said goodbye to Ja'afar and returned to his land, those who envied him schemed to ruin him with the Naïb of Damascus. They said, "Oh our lord, why have you neglected Attaf? Don’t you know that the Wazir was his friend and that he went out to bid him farewell after our people had returned, accompanying him as far as Katifa? Ja'afar asked him, ‘Do you need anything, Attaf?’ He replied, ‘Yes.’ ‘What is it?’ asked the Wazir, and he said, ‘That you send me an imperial decree to remove the Naïb of Damascus.’ This was promised to him, and it is wise to invite him to breakfast before he takes you to dinner; success comes from taking advantage of opportunities, and the attacker profits from the assailed." The Naïb of Damascus replied, "You have spoken well, bring him to me right away." The Rawi says that Attaf was at home, unaware that anyone held a grudge against him when, suddenly at night, he was surrounded and seized by the Naïb of Damascus’s men, armed with swords and clubs. They beat him until he was covered in blood and dragged him before the Pasha of Damascus, who ordered his house, slaves, servants, and all his possessions to be pillaged. They took everything, including his family and goods. Attaf asked, "What is my crime?" The answer came, "Oh scoundrel, you are just a lowly rabble, do you challenge the Naïb of Damascus?" Then an executioner was ordered to strike his neck. The man moved forward, cutting a piece of his robe to use as a blindfold for his eyes and was about to strike when one of the Emirs stood up and said, "Do not be hasty, my lord. Wait, for haste is a whisper from Satan, and there’s a saying: patience earns its rewards, and haste leads to mistakes. Don’t press this matter; perhaps the one who accused him lied, as no one is without jealousy; so have some patience, for you may regret taking his life unjustly. Do not rest easy thinking you are safe from Wazir Ja'afar, for if he finds out what you have done, you may not be secure in your own life. He will not accept any excuse; he was his friend and companion." When the Naïb of Damascus heard this, he woke from his slumber and changed his course of action. He ordered that Attaf should be imprisoned, chained, and locked up, commanding that they tighten his bonds and mistreat him. They dragged him out, ignoring his pleas and cries for help, and he spent every night praying to God for deliverance from his suffering. He remained in that state for three months. Then one night, as he awoke, he humbled himself before God and wandered through his prison, where he found no one. Looking around, he noticed an opening leading from the prison to outside the city. He tested his chain and managed to unlock it; removing it from his neck, he escaped the prison running at full speed. He hid until it was dark, waiting for the city gate to open, at which point he blended in with the crowd and hurried to Aleppo, where he entered the great mosque. There, he saw a group of strangers preparing to leave and asked them where they were headed. They replied, "To Baghdad." So he exclaimed, "I will go with you!" They said, "The weight is on the earth, but the provision is in God’s hands." They continued on their journey until they reached Koufa after twenty days and then went on until they finally arrived in Baghdad. Attaf observed a city of strong buildings, abundant with elegant palaces reaching towards the sky, a place filled with learned and ignorant people, the wealthy and the poor, the virtuous and the wicked. He entered the city in ragged clothing, covered in torn garments with a filthy conical cap on his head, his hair long and hanging over his eyes, and his entire appearance was utterly wretched. He sat in one of the mosques. Having not eaten for two days, a vagabond entered the mosque, sat down in front of Attaf, and pulled out a bag filled with bread, chicken, more bread, sweets, an orange, olives, date-cakes, and cucumbers. Attaf looked at him and watched as he ate, which reminded him of the table of Jesus, son of Mary (peace be upon him!). For four months he had not had a decent meal and thought to himself how much he desired to taste even a morsel of the delicious food, which made him cry out from sheer hunger. The man looked at him and said, "Why do you squint and act like a stranger? By God, even if you cry enough tears to fill the Jaxartes, Bactrus, Dajlah, Euphrates, the rivers of Basrah, Antioch, Orontes, Egypt’s Nile, the Salt Sea, and the ebb and flow of the Ocean, I will not give you a piece to eat. But, the jester continued, if you wish to feast on chicken, white bread, lamb, sweets, and mutton patties, go to the house of Ja'afar son of Yahya the Barmeky, who has received hospitality from a Damascus man named Attaf. He gives generously in his name and will mention him whenever he gets up or sits down." When Attaf heard these words from the jester, he looked up to heaven and prayed, "Oh You whose attributes are beyond comprehension, bestow Your blessings upon Your servant Attaf." Then he recited this couplet:—
Confide thy affairs to thy Creator; set aside thy pains and dismiss thy thoughts.
Share your concerns with your Creator; put your troubles aside and let go of your worries.
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:—
Then Attaf went to a paper seller, got a piece of paper, borrowed an inkstand, and wrote: "From your brother Attaf, known to God. Let anyone who has conquered the world not get too comfortable; one day they will be brought low and lose it in their tragic fate. If you see me, you won’t recognize me due to my poverty and misery; because of my changed circumstances and the hardships I've faced, my mind and body are worn down by hunger from the long journey I have made until I finally reached you. Peace be with you." After folding the paper and returning the inkstand, he asked for the house of Ja'afar. Once it was pointed out to him, he approached it and stood at a distance. The doorkeepers noticed him standing there, not speaking a word, and no one addressed him. While he stood there feeling awkward, a eunuch in a striped robe with a golden belt walked by. Attaf stayed motionless before him, then approached, kissed his hands, and said, "O my lord, the Apostle of Allah (peace and blessings be upon him) has said, ‘The medium of a good deed is like the one who did it, and the one who did it belongs to the dwellers in heaven.’” The man asked, “What do you need?” Attaf replied, “I ask for your kindness to take this paper to your lord and tell him, ‘Your brother Attaf is standing at the door.’” Upon hearing this, the servant flew into a furious rage, his eyes bulging, and shouted, “You wretched one, you’re the brother of the Wazir Ja'afar?” With a rod that had a golden tip, he struck Attaf in the face, causing his blood to flow, and he collapsed from his weakness, tears and pain overwhelming him. The narrator mentions that God has put the instinct for good in some servants’ hearts, just as He has placed the instinct for evil in others. One of the servants sympathized with Attaf and scolded the first servant for striking him, to which the angry servant responded, “Didn’t you hear, brother, that he pretended to be the brother of the Wazir Ja'afar?” The second servant retorted, “O evil man, son of evil, servant of evil, miserable one, you pig! Is Ja'afar one of the prophets? Isn’t he just a man like us? All men are brothers, sharing one father and one mother—Adam and Eve; as the poet has said:—
Men by comparison all are brethren, their father is Adam their mother is Eve;
Men, in comparison, are all brothers; their father is Adam and 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:—
but some people are better than others. Then he approached Attaf, made him sit down, wiped the blood from his face, cleaned him up, dusted him off, and said, "Oh, my brother, what do you need?" Attaf replied, "I need to send this paper to Ja'afar." The servant took the paper and, upon entering Ja'afar's chamber, found the Governor's officers and the Barmekys standing by his side; Ja'afar the Wazir, holding a cup of wine, was reciting poetry and enjoying himself, saying, "O everyone gathered here, the one who is absent from eye is not the same as the one who is present in the heart; he is my brother, my friend, and my benefactor, Attaf of Damascus, who was always generous and kind to me; he divorced his cousin-wife for my sake and gave her to me. He gifted me horses, slaves, maidens, and so much stuff to help me with her dowry; without his help, I would have certainly been ruined. He was generous to me without knowing who I was, and kind to me without expecting anything in return." The Rawi says that when the servant heard these words from his lord, he was overjoyed; he stepped forward, knelt, and presented the paper. When Ja'afar read it, he was intoxicated and, not realizing what he was doing, collapsed to the floor, holding the paper and the glass in his hand. He hit his forehead and started bleeding, then fainted, causing the paper to drop from his grip. When the servant saw this, he hurried to leave, fearing the consequences; Ja'afar's friends helped him up and staunched the bleeding. They exclaimed, "There is no power and strength except in God the High, the Mighty." This shows the nature of servants; they disturb the lives of kings with their pleasures and annoy them with their moods. By God, the writer of this paper deserves nothing less than to be handed over to the Wali, who should give him five hundred lashes and imprison him. Then, the Wazir's doorkeeper went out and asked for the owner of the paper, and Attaf replied, "It is I, my lord." They seized him and sent him to the Wali, ordering him to give one hundred lashes to the prisoner and to write on his chain "for life." So they did with Attaf, taking him to prison where he stayed for two months until a child was born to Harun er-Rashid. He then ordered that alms be distributed, good deeds be done for all, and that everyone in prison be released, including Attaf. Once out of jail, beaten, starved, and naked, he looked up to heaven and exclaimed, "Thank you, Lord, in every situation," and cried, "It must be due to some past fault of mine, for God favored me, and I have responded with disobedience; but I pray for His forgiveness for having gone too far in my indulgence." 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 faults.
O God! The worshipper does what he shouldn't do; he is needy, relying on You: In the pleasures of life, he loses himself in his ignorance; please forgive his mistakes.
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 Naïb, 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:—
Then he cried out again and said to himself, What should I do? If I head back to my country, I might not make it; if I do get there, the Naïb won’t keep me safe, and if I stay here, no one knows me among the beggars, so I can’t help them or myself at all. I had hope in that man, thinking he would lift me out of my poverty. But things have turned out the opposite of what I expected, 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.
O friend, I've traveled all over the world, east and west; everything I encountered was pain and exhaustion. I've spent time with the people of the time, but I've never found even one grateful friend, 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:—
Once again he cried out, "God grant me the grace of patience." After that, he got up, walked away, and entered one of the mosques, staying there until afternoon. His hunger grew, and he said, "By Your greatness and majesty, I’ll ask nothing from anyone but You." He remained in the mosque until it got dark, then went out for something, telling himself, "I’ve heard a call from the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon Him) which said, God forbids sleep in the Sanctuary and forbids it for His worshippers." Then he rose and left the mosque, walking for about an hour before entering a ruined building. In the darkness, he stumbled and fell facedown. He kicked something and felt it move—it was a boy who had been killed, with a knife in his side. Attaf got up from beside the body, his clothes stained with blood; he stood there frozen and embarrassed. While he was in this state, the Wali and his officers stood at the door of the ruin, and Attaf said to them, "Come in and search." They entered with their torches, discovered the body of the murdered boy and the knife, and saw poor Attaf standing at the head with blood on his clothes. When a man with a scarf saw him, he arrested him, saying, "You wretch, you killed him!" Attaf replied, "Yes." The Wali then ordered, "Bind him and take him to prison until we report to the Wazir Ja'afar. If he orders his execution, we'll carry it out." They did as instructed, and the next day, the man with the scarf wrote to the Wazir, "We found a man in a ruin who killed a boy. We questioned him, and he confessed to the crime. What are your orders?" The Wazir commanded that he be executed; so they brought Attaf from prison to the execution site, tore a piece from his garment, and used it to blindfold his eyes. The executioner asked, "My lord, shall I strike his neck?" and the Wali replied, "Strike!" He raised the sword, which whistled and shimmered in the air, ready to bring it down when a voice shouted from behind, "Stop your hand!" It was the voice of Wazir Ja'afar, who was out for a stroll. The Wali approached him and bowed down, and Ja'afar asked, "What’s this big crowd gathered here?" He replied, "It’s the execution of a young man from Damascus whom we found in a ruin; he killed a boy of noble lineage, and we found the knife and his bloodstained clothes. When I asked him if he killed him, he said yes three times. Today I sent you my report, and you ordered his death, saying, ‘Let God’s judgment be carried out,’ and now I've brought him out to be executed." Ja'afar said, "Has a man from Damascus come to our land to find himself in such a bad situation? I swear, that will never happen!" Then he ordered that the young man be brought to him. Ja'afar didn’t recognize him, as Attaf no longer had his usual air of ease and comfort; so he said to him, "What country are you from, young man?" Attaf replied, "I’m from Damascus." "From the city or the countryside?" "I swear, my lord, I’m from the city of Damascus, where I was born." Ja'afar asked, "Do you happen to know a man named Attaf?" "I remember when you were his friend, and he hosted you in such-and-such a house, and when you went to such-and-such a garden; I know when you married his cousin, and I recall when he said goodbye to you at Katifa, where you drank together." Ja'afar said, "Yes, all of that is true, but what happened to him after he left me?" He replied, "Oh my lord, this and that happened to him," and he recounted everything from the time he parted with him up until the moment he was standing there, 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?
This era, must it make me its victim, while you are alive at the same time: wolves are trying to consume me while you, the lion, are here. Every thirsty person who comes to you has their thirst quenched: is it possible that I thirst while you are 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 Nagísh, and with Gasís, and with Ghúbar, and with Gushír, and every day working with someone. They were jealous of my having him. 'Odis the sweeper and Abu Butrán 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:—
When he finished reciting the verses, he said, "O my lord, I am Attaf," and then recounted everything that had happened between them from start to finish. While he was speaking, a loud cry rang out from a Sheikh who exclaimed, "This is inhumane!" They looked at the speaker, an old man with a trimmed beard dyed with henna, wearing a blue kerchief. When Ja'afar saw him, he asked what was wrong, and the old man shouted, "Take the young man away from under the sword; he hasn't done anything wrong! He didn't kill anyone and knows nothing about the dead youth. I'm the only one responsible for his death." The Wazir said, "So you admitted to killing him?" and he replied, "Yes." "Why did you kill him? Don't you fear God for taking the life of a Hashimy child?" The old man explained, "He was my servant, working for me at home and helping with my trade. Every day he would take some small change from me and go to work for another man named Shumooshag, along with Nagísh, Gasís, Ghúbar, and Gushír, always working with someone new. They were jealous of me for having him. Odis the sweeper and Abu Butrán the stoker, among others, all wanted to hire him. I tried to correct him, but he wouldn't listen and kept doing this until I killed him in the ruin, freeing myself from the torment he caused me. That's my story. I've stayed silent until now, only speaking up when I saw you save this young man's head from the sword. Here I stand before you: strike my neck and take my life for his. Please, don't harm this young man; he has done no wrong." The Wazir replied, "Neither you nor him will be harmed." He then ordered the parents of the deceased boy to be brought in and reconciled them with the old man, whom he pardoned. He put Attaf on a horse and took him to his house; after that, he entered the Caliph's palace, bowed to the ground before him, and said, "Here is Attaf, who was my host in Damascus, and I've shared his kindness and generosity, preferring me above himself." Er-Rashid said, "Bring him to me right away." He introduced Attaf to the Caliph in the dismal state he'd found him in; when Attaf entered, he greeted him in the best possible manner with eloquent words. Er-Rashid responded, "What is this state I find you in?" and Attaf wept as he expressed 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?
Troubles, poverty, and being far away from loved ones create a deep longing to see them. The spirit is caught in this struggle; they have become like everyone else, so the mystery persists in the world. While the generous suffer through misfortune and sorrow, where is the miser who doesn’t find some fortune in that?
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:—
When Attaf finished, he talked to the Caliph about his life story from start to finish; Er-Rashid cried and felt deep pain for what had happened to him after losing his wealth, and he continued to weep with Ja'afar until Attaf's story concluded. The Sheikh, who had killed the boy and was freed by Ja'afar, walked in, and Er-Rashid laughed when he saw him. Then he had Attaf sit down and made him retell his story. And when Attaf finished speaking, the Caliph looked at Ja'afar and said, "The proverb goes:—"
Good for good, to the giver the merit remains; evil for evil, the doer's most
cruel.
Good for good, the giver earns the credit; evil for evil, the wrongdoer faces the worst consequences.
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 Naïb, 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 Naïb, 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.
Afterward, the Caliph said to Ja'afar, "Tell me what you did for your brother Attaf before he came to you." He replied, "O Commander of the Faithful, he came to me unexpectedly, and I have now prepared three million gold coins for him, along with similar amounts in horses, slaves, boys, and clothes." The Caliph said, "The same from me." This is the end of the last leaf of the writ, but the Wari says that two days later, Ja'afar returned Attaf's beloved cousin-wife to him, saying, "I have divorced her, and now I am handing back to you the precious trust you placed in my hands." The order from the Caliph had already been sent to Damascus, instructing the arrest of the Naïb, to have him shackled and imprisoned until further notice. Attaf spent several months in Baghdad enjoying the city's pleasures with his friend Ja'afar and Er-Rashid. He would have liked to stay there for life, but numerous letters from his family and friends urging him to return to Damascus made him feel it was his duty to do so, so he asked the Caliph for permission, who granted it, albeit with regrets and worries about Attaf's future. Er-Rashid appointed him Wali of Damascus and gave him the imperial decree; a large escort of horses, mules, and camels, along with generous gifts, accompanied him to Damascus, where he was received with great fanfare. The entire city was lit up in celebration of Attaf's return, loved and respected by all sectors of the population, especially the poor who had mourned for him during his absence. As for the Naïb, a second decree from the Caliph ordered his execution for oppressing the people, but thanks to Attaf's generous intervention, Er-Rashid opted to change the sentence to exile. Attaf governed his people for many years with justice and prosperity, a protector of his happy subjects while enjoying the delights and pleasures of life, until the Angel of Death came 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.378
Here we start to write the story of Sultan Habib and what happened to him with Durrat al-Ghawwas.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 Banú Hilál379 whose head men were the Emir Hilál and the Emir Salámah.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-Ashráf;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 Habíb.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 Sultan383 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 caligraphs384 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,
It is said (but Allah knows all things and is aware of what has happened and what has passed in the history of people!) that long ago, there was a tribe of Arabs called Banú Hilál379. The leaders of this tribe were Emir Hilál and Emir Salámah.380 Now, Emir Salamah had almost lived his life without being blessed with a child; yet he was a brave ruler, strong and noble, a protector of his people, and a knight of impressive stature. He commanded a thousand horsemen, the finest of warriors, and he ruled over sixty-six tribes of Arabs. One fateful night, as he slept peacefully, a Voice spoke to him, saying, "Get up immediately and be with your wife, for she will conceive by the command of Allah Almighty." Awakened from his sleep, Emir Salamah embraced his wife Kamar al-Ashráf;381 she became pregnant from that encounter and, when the time came, she gave birth to a boy as radiant as the full moon, whom his father named Habíb.382 As time passed, his father took great joy in him, raised him well, and ensured he learned to read the Quran along with the glorious names of Almighty Allah, teaching him writing and all the arts and sciences. After this, he honored the teachers who had educated the Sultan383 Habib, who, by the time he was seventeen, had become the most intelligent and insightful among his peers. People admired the depth of his understanding and often thought to themselves, "It is certain that this young man will rise to greatness (and what greatness!) that will be spoken of by those of the highest intellect." He could write in seven styles of calligraphy384, recite traditions, and improvise poetry; and one day, when his father asked him to create a poem on the spot, he began to recite,
"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."
"Oh my lord, I know everything there is to know— * I've filled my mind with true knowledge and legend; I keep sharing the wisdom that my memory holds * And my writing shines like rubies and pearls."
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 Kázi amongst the Jinns and I was enthroned amid the Kings of the Jánn, whenas one night of the nights a Voice385 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."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!"387 Those present in the assembly at once asked saying,
So Emir Salamah was amazed by the elegance of his son’s speech; and the Notables of the clan, after hearing his poetry and prose, were astonished by their excellence. Soon, the father embraced his son and immediately summoned his governor, honoring him greatly. He gave him four camels loaded with gold and silver and appointed him over one of his subject tribes of Arabs. Then he said to him, "You’ve done well, O Shaykh; take this gift and go to that tribe and rule it with justice and fairness until the end of your days." The governor replied, "O King of the Age, I cannot accept your gifts, for I am not human but of the Jinn; I have no need for money or power. Know this, O my lord, that I once served as a Kázi among the Jinn and was enthroned among the Kings of the Jánn, when one night a Voice addressed me in my sleep, saying, 'Get up and go to Sultan Habib, son of Emir Salamah, ruler of the Arab tribes under the Banu Hilal, and become his tutor to teach him all that can be taught; and if you refuse to go, I will tear your soul from your body.' When I witnessed this miraculous vision in my sleep, I immediately arose and went to your son to do as I was commanded." But when Emir Salamah heard the words of the Shaykh, he bowed down, kissed his feet, and exclaimed, "Alhamdolillah—praise be to the Lord, who has blessed us with you from His abundance; indeed, your arrival to us is a good omen, O Judge of the Jann." "Where is your son?" asked the governor, and the father replied, "Ready, indeed ready;" then he called for his child, and when the Shaykh saw his pupil, he wept bitterly and said, "Parting from you, O Habib, is difficult for us," adding, "Ah! if only you knew what will soon happen to this youth after I leave and when I’m far from him!" Those present in the assembly immediately 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.388
"And what will happen to us right away, O Shaykh?" * He replied, "You'll witness incredible things: I lack the words to describe it." * Then Habib came closer to the same teacher; * And hugging the young man tight, * He kissed his cheek while letting out a loud scream.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,
Wherever they were, everyone around them was disturbed and shocked by the Shaykh's actions as he suddenly disappeared from sight. Then Emir Salamah addressed the people, saying, "Hey you Arabs, who knows what will happen to my son? I wish I had someone to guide him!" The Elders and Councillors replied, "We don't know of anyone." Meanwhile, Sultan Habib was troubled by the governor's disappearance and spoke to his father, weeping heavily, "Oh my father, where is the one who raised me and taught me everything?" The Emir answered, "My son, one day he said goodbye to us and, crying out loudly, vanished from our sight. We haven't seen him since." Then the young man began to improvise and said,
"Indeed I am scourged by those ills whereof I felt affray, ah! * By
parting and thoughts which oft compellèd 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!"
"Indeed, I am tormented by those troubles I faced, ah! * By separation and thoughts that often made my soul cry, 'Ah!' Oh, the saddest regret deep within me that never ends, nor * Shall his love that still weighs on my heart fade, ah! Where has the generous spirit that filled my mind gone? * And alas! what has happened, oh sir, to me, woe is me, 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,
Here, Emir Salamah cried (just like everyone else there) and said to his son, "O Habib, his actions have caused us pain," and the young man replied, "How can I bear to be separated from the one who cared for me, helped me gain respect and fame, and elevated my status so much?" Then he started to make up a poem, 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."
"Indeed, this pine in my heart grows tall, * And in my waking eyes, my sleep is outdone: You marched, oh my lords, and left far from me * And you left a lover who shall always cry out: I don’t know where on this earth you are * And how long this patience lasts when no one is near: You left, and my eyes weep for your absence, * And my body is weak, 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 Maydán; 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 Dáúd389 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 Samhari390 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 Rudaynían lance391 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;392 nay, my sole object was my son to incite that he might learn battle and combat aright, and the charge of the heroic Himyarite393 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-'Abbús,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-Ghawwás, 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-Zamán."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-Abbús, "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 Sharífs396 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—
Now, while Emir Salamah was seated in his place of honor and Sultan Habib was composing poetry and crying in front of his father, they heard a voice that announced itself. Its sound was loud, but its source was unseen. The young man then shed tears and exclaimed, "Oh, father, I need someone to teach me horsemanship and the skills of combat in the arena — from charging to counterattacking, and skills like spear-fighting, because my heart longs for knightly adventures, like riding at the forefront and facing brave warriors." While they were discussing this, an impressive figure appeared before them, tall and formidable, wearing a wide turban. His broad chest was protected by a double coat of chain mail, its rings woven closely together like that of Prophet David (peace be upon him!). In his hand, he carried a mace made from solid rock, powerful enough to stop even the bravest of warriors; he also wore an Indian sword that trembled in his grip, and he mounted a stunning stallion with black markings, unmatched among the horses of the Arabs. He stood as a vassal before Emir Salamah, greeted everyone present, and they returned his greeting. The attendants rushed forward to help him down from his horse, and after resting for an hour, the mysterious knight approached and said, "Oh Emir, I have come to fulfill your request; if you agree, I will teach your son the art of war in swordplay and lance use. But before that, I want to test your skills in horsemanship; so you, Emir, must first appear as a champion in single combat so that I may show you what true horsemanship is." "I hear and obey," replied the Emir. "If you seek to duel, I will not refuse." At this, his chiefs warned him, "Oh Emir, for Allah's sake, do not fight this knight; you do not know whether he is human or jinn; do not let his tricks fool you." "Let me see this knight's horsemanship today," said the Emir. "If he overcomes me, then know he is a true knight no one can stand against." Saying this, the Emir went to his tent and instructed his servants to bring forth the best of his armor. When they laid out the options, he chose a suit of armor made of tightly woven rings, which he donned. He also belted on a sword made of Indian steel, capable of cleaving stone and leveling hills, and he grabbed a long spear whose head was shaped like a basilisk's tongue. Lastly, he commanded his servants to bring forth his swiftest horse. The two combatants then entered the arena, and no one in the camp, big or small, stayed behind because they all wanted to witness this battle between two fierce champions. Before the fight began, the stranger knight addressed his opponent, speaking confidently and eloquently, "I will face you, Emir Salamah, with the courage of a true warrior; heed me, for I am the one who has defeated champions." At these words, they both engaged fiercely, exchanging blows with swords and thrusting with their spears, shattering more than one blade and lance amidst the crowd's watchful gaze. They attacked and retreated, changing tactics until both of their arms grew weary and their strength began to wane. Emir Salamah started to show signs of fatigue; however, noticing his opponent's skill, he managed to fend off the strikes with his shield. Eventually, though, exhaustion and loss of energy took over, and he realized he could fight no longer; he ceased his effort and retreated from the battle. The stranger knight dismounted, fell at the Emir's feet, kissed them, and said, "Oh Sovereign of the Age, I didn't come here to fight you; I intend to teach your son, Sultan Habib, the complete art of arms and make him the greatest knight of his time." Salamah replied, "Indeed, oh knight of the age, you have spoken well; I did not come to fight you but to encourage my son to learn the art of battle and to match the strength of the heroic Himyarite." They then dismounted and exchanged friendly embraces before returning to the tribal camp. The Emir ordered it to be decorated lavishly, and they slaughtered animals and prepared feasts, so the tribesmen enjoyed food and drink all day, catering to travelers, the less fortunate, and everyone in need. When Sultan Habib learned how this knight had bested his father in combat, he approached him and said, "Peace to the one who sought us and wished for our companionship! Who are you, valiant knight and vanquisher of foes?" The knight replied, "Know this, Habib, that Allah has sent me to you." "And what is your name?" "I am Al-'Abbús, the Knight of the Grim Face." "You seem only to smile while your name suggests otherwise," said the youth. Soon after, Emir Salamah entrusted his son to this new mentor, saying, "I wish for you to make this young man the bravest of his time." The knight responded, "To hear is to obey; first, Allah, then yourself, and I will serve your son Habib." As this was settled, the youth and his mentor began daily training in the arena, and after some time, Habib became the best fighter of his age. Seeing this, his teacher said to him, "Understand, oh Sultan Habib, that you must face danger and adventure, for words cannot capture the depth of such experiences. You will wish you had never seen them, wishing to be free of such chaos. You will encounter hardships until you connect with the beautiful Durrat al-Ghawwás, the Queen over the Isles of the Sea. During your journey, you must leave your family, say goodbye to your tribe, and endure far more than the human mind can fathom before you can unite with the daughter of Queen Kamar al-Zamán." But when Habib heard about the "Pearl of the Diver," he became flustered and disturbed, asking Al-Abbús urgently, "I beg you, by Allah, is this lady human or of jinn?" Al-Abbús replied, "She is of jinn, and she has two ministers, one of each kind, who hold power over all her rulers. A thousand islands under her domain have been sought by many noble families who have brought rich gifts and valuable offerings, yet none have succeeded in winning her affection; all returned empty-handed." Hearing this, Sultan Habib was overwhelmed and exclaimed, "Let us go home to sit and deliberate over this troubling matter, discussing its past and future." "I hear and obey," replied Al-Abbús, and they withdrew to a private space to talk freely about the princess, and Al-Abbús began to recount the story in these words—
THE HISTORY OF DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.
Whilome there was a Sovran amongst the Kings of the Sea, hight Sábúr, who reigned over the Crystalline Isles,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 'Atrús398 of the Jánn, 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 lot399 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 borders400 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,
Once there was a King among the rulers of the sea, named Sabur, who ruled over the Crystalline Isles, and he was a powerful, generous, and glorious ruler. He loved women and sought out the most beautiful maidens; however, many years had passed, and he had not been blessed with a son. One day, he contemplated, "I have lived many years and am nearing the end of my life, yet I am still childless: what will become of me?" While sitting on his throne, he saw enter an Ifrit, fair in face and form, who was none other than King 'Atrus of the Jinn, who proclaimed, "Peace be upon you, O King! I have come from my sovereign who holds you dear. I had a dream in which a voice said to me, 'Throughout the King's life, he has never been granted a child, boy or girl; now, let him follow my command, and he shall receive his wish. Let him dispense justice and generosity, support the rights of the wronged, encourage good deeds, forbid evil, refrain from supporting tyranny or innovation in the realm, and release all prisoners he holds.' I woke, startled by this vision, and rushed to you without delay. O King of the Age, I have a daughter, named Kamar al-Zaman, who is unmatched in her time, and I intend to offer her as your bride. The Kings of the Jinn have often sought her hand in marriage, but I wanted no one but a ruler like you, and glory be to God for placing you in my thoughts, for your fame is well-known, and your deeds promote righteousness. Perhaps by your blessing, you will father on my daughter a pious and virtuous son." The King replied, "O you who come to us with goodwill, I accept your offer with joy." Then Sabur, the King of the Crystalline Isles, summoned the Kazi and witnesses, and the Ifrit said, "I agree with what you've said, and whatever you propose, I shall not oppose." They settled on the dowry and established the marriage contract with the daughter of Al-'Atrus, King of the Jinn, who immediately sent one of his Flying Jinn to bring the bride. She arrived promptly, beautifully adorned with every kind of ornament, surpassing all maidens of her time. When King Sabur approached her, he found her to be a pure maiden: that night he spent with her, and Almighty Allah willed that she conceived. When her pregnancy came to term, she gave birth to a girl who shone like the moon, whom they entrusted to wet-nurses and tutors, and by the time she turned ten, they appointed caretakers to teach her the Koran, writing, and literature; in short, they raised her in the most elegant manner. Thus was the fate of Durrat al-Ghawwas, the child of Kamar al-Zaman, daughter of King 'Atrus and her husband King Sabur. Meanwhile, Sultan Habib and his advisor Al-Abbus continued their search for the promised maiden until one day, the young man entered his father's garden and walked along the paths lined with fragrant basil and blooming roses, enjoying the beauty of nature. While wandering, he suddenly noticed the maiden, Durrat al-Ghawwas, entering like the moon, and nothing on earth could be lovelier than her, as gracious as a Huriyah from the Virgins of Paradise, whose praises no one could fully express. However, when Sultan Habib looked at her, he was so overwhelmed that he struggled to maintain his composure; he feared that she might disappear if she saw him. So he retreated and climbed the branches of a tree to a spot where he couldn’t be seen, while still being able to see her from afar. As for the Princess, she roamed the garden of Emir Salamah until suddenly, two dozen snow-white birds approached her, each accompanied by a maid of moon-like beauty. They landed before her, saying, "Peace be upon you, O our Queen and Sovereign Lady." She replied, "You are not welcome here; tell me, why did you delay until now when you know I long to meet Sultan Habib, the dear son of Salamah? I wished for you to accompany me, and yet you did not obey, perhaps mocking my desires." "We would never oppose your command," they replied, "whether in word or deed," and they began to look for her beloved. Hearing this, Sultan Habib felt comfort in his heart and clarity in his mind; he was encouraged by her words, but fear still held him back, and he thought to himself, "Perhaps she will order one of the Jinns to harm me, so it is better to be patient and see what Allah intends for me." Yet the Princess and her attendants continued exploring the garden until they found the spot where Sultan Habib was hiding. Durrat al-Ghawwas paused and said to her maids, "I did not come from my capital except for him, and I want to see and be seen by him, as the voice informed me about him. Perhaps it has also informed him of me." Then, as the Princess and her entourage moved closer to his hiding place, they discovered a small, full lake in the garden, where a brass lion stood, water flowing from its mouth and out its tail. The Princess marveled and said, "This is a wonderful lake, and the lion is remarkable. When, by the will of Almighty Allah, I return home, I will have a lake made like this and place a brass lion in it." She commanded her maids to remove their dresses and swim, but they responded, "O our lady, we will heed your command, but we will not swim unless you do." So she also took off her dress, and they all entered the lake together, while Sultan Habib peeked through the leaves to enjoy the lovely sight, exclaiming, "Blessed be the Lord, the best of Creators!" When her handmaids grew tired of swimming, the Princess instructed them to come out of the water and said, "When Heaven wills for my heart's desire to be fulfilled in this garden, what do you think I should do with my lover?" They replied, "That would only increase our joy and delight." She said, "My heart tells me that he is hiding among the trees nearby," and she gestured toward Habib’s hiding place; seeing this, he felt overwhelming joy and exclaimed, "There is no power or might except in Allah, the Glorious, the Great. What does this lady mean? I fear to stay here lest she find me and expose me, so it is better for me to come out of hiding and allow her to act according to her wishes." Thus, he descended from the tree where he had been hiding and appeared before Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas, who approached him and exclaimed, "O Habib, welcome! Is this how we have endured our longing for you? Where have you been all this time, my dear, the coolness of my eyes, and the sweetness of my heart?" He replied, "I was at the top of the big tree where you pointed." As they looked at each other, she moved closer and began to speak charmingly.
"Thou hast doomed me, O branchlet of Bán, 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!"
"You're the one who has doomed me, O branch of Bán, to despair. * In worship and honor, I used to thrive— Who lived in power while people served me * And armies surrounded me to fulfill every command!"
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 Jánn 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 back401 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;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,"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,
And soon the Sultan Habib said, "Thank God—praise be to the Lord, who has allowed me to see your face and form! Do you not know what has hurt me and made me sick for your sake, O Durrat al-Ghawwas?" She replied, "And what was it that hurt you?" "It was my love for you and longing for you!" "And who was the first to tell you about me?" He said, "One day, while I was with my family and tribe, a Jinni named Al-Abbus became my protector and taught me the ways of fighting and riding. Before he left, he praised your beauty and told me everything that would happen between us. I was already infatuated with you before I even saw you, and since then, I’ve lost all joy in sleeping, eating, drinking, and wine; nothing has pleased me. Thank God—praise be to Allah, who has allowed me this union with my heart's desire!" At this, the two embraced so tightly that they fainted and fell to the ground. After a while, the handmaidens helped them up and splashed their faces with rose water, which revived them. Throughout all this, Emir Salamah had no idea what had happened to his son, the Sultan Habib, and neither did his mother know what had befallen her child. The husband went to his wife and said, "This boy has exhausted us: we see he doesn’t sleep in his own place at night, and today he left at dawn without letting us see him." The wife responded, "Since the day he went to Al-Abbus, your boy has been troubled and anxious." The husband replied, "Our son wanders in the garden, and God knows that nothing good can come of it. You should find him there and ask him about himself." They discussed this matter in anger and agitation. Meanwhile, as Sultan Habib sat in the garden with his handmaidens and Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas, a huge bird suddenly swooped down and transformed into an impressive old man who approached and kissed their feet, humbling himself before the lovers. The young man was astonished by the old man's actions and signaled to the Princess to ask, "Who is this old man?" She answered, "This is the Wazir who brought us together;" then she said to the Shaykh, "What is your business?" "I came here for you," he replied, "and unless you return to your kingdom immediately, the Jánn will take your rule away; the land's lords and nobles are seeking your downfall, and many have asked me, saying, 'O Wazir, where is our Queen?' I told them, 'She is in her palace, busy with some matters today.' But such excuses won’t last long, and unless you return with me to your realm, someone among the Marids will betray you, the hosts will revolt, your rule will be ruined, and you will be stripped of authority and sultanate." "What do you recommend, and what is your instruction?" she asked, and he replied, "You have no choice but to leave this place and go back to your kingdom." When these words reached Durrat al-Ghawwas, she felt a tightness in her chest and was filled with deep sorrow over parting from her lover, whom she addressed with these words, "What do you think about what you just heard? I truly don’t wish to part from you, and I certainly don’t want my reign to end; so come with me, dear love, and I will make you lord over the Isles of the Sea and the sole master there." At this, Sultan Habib thought to himself, "I cannot bear to be apart from my own people; but as for you, my love will never leave you:" then he spoke aloud, "If you will listen to me, abandon your plans and let your Wazir govern the Isles and your homeland; then we can live together in peace forever and enjoy the happiest life." "That can never be," she replied; then she called to the Wazir, saying, "Take me away to my own land." After saying goodbye to her lover, she climbed onto the back of the Emir-Wazir and told him to carry her off, and he took flight, soaring high in the air with the forty handmaidens following him. Soon, Sultan Habib shed bitter tears; when his mother heard him weeping as he sat in the garden, she went to her husband and said, "Do you not know what calamity has befallen your son? I hear him groaning and moaning over there." When the parents entered the garden, they found him worn out from grief, and tears streamed down his cheeks like endless rain; so they called the servants, who brought jugs of rosewater to splash on his face. As soon as he regained his senses and opened his eyes, he began to cry profusely, and his father and mother wept for their aching hearts, asking him, "O Habib, what calamity has come upon you? Who has wronged you? Tell us the truth of what happened." He then recounted everything that had happened between him and Durrat al-Ghawwas, and while his mother cried for him, his father said, "O Habib, let this desire go so that you can enjoy the pleasures of food and drink and sleep." But Habib replied, "O my father, I will not rest until I sleep the sleep of death." "Get up, my child," said the Emir, "and let us return home," but his son replied, "I will not leave this place where I was separated from the love of my heart." So the father urged him again, saying, "Please, spare me this talk and don’t continue down this path, for I worry about you," and he tried to encourage and comfort him. After a while, Sultan Habib stood up and followed his father home, who kept saying to him, "Be patient, my child, while I help you search for this young lady and send people to bring her to you." "O my father," the son replied, "I can no longer stand to be apart from her; I wish for you to load several camels with gold, silver, and riches so I can go to find her. If I succeed and God grants me a long life, I’ll return to you; but if my days are numbered, it is in God's hands, the One, the Omnipotent. Do not let your hearts be troubled about this, for if I stay with you and don't see the love of my soul, I will perish from my anguish while you watch me die. So please, let me set out and achieve my goal; for since the day my mother bore me, it has been written that I travel far and wide and see the world and cross seven seas." With that, he began to improvise 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!"
"My heart is heavy with deep grief, and my friends and loved ones have caused me pain; whenever you’re away, I long for you, and I weep inside for the suffering I endure. Oh, you who travel to our people’s homeland, shout my greetings to my friends who are so eager to see me!"
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 Davidian404 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,
Now when Emir Salamah heard his son's verses, he ordered four camel loads of the finest goods to be packed for him, and he gifted him a female dromedary loaded with thrones of red gold. Then he said to him, "Look, my son, I've given you more than you asked for." "Oh my father," replied Habib, "where are my horse, my sword, and my spear?" At this, the attendants brought forth a Davidian mail coat, a Maghrabian blade, and a Khattian and Samharian lance, and set them in front of him. Sultan Habib donned the armor, drew his saber, and positioned the lance as he sat on his steed, which was of the finest blood known to all Arabs. Then he said, "Oh my father, do you want to send with me a group of twenty knights to escort me to the land of Al-Yaman and then bring me back to you?" "My intention," replied his father, "is to send those with you who will support you on the journey." After Habib asked him to do as he saw fit, the Emir appointed ten brave knights to him, fearless of sudden and terrible death. Soon, the young man bid farewell to his father and mother, his family and his tribe, and together with his escort, mounted his horse. When Salamah, his father, spoke to his company, he said, "Be obedient to my son in all he commands you," and they replied, "We hear and obey." Then Habib and his companions turned away from home and began their journey, while he started to compose 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-Irák."
My longing fades and my worry disappears * After my heart burned
with intense love;
As I ride to find my soul's desire * And I ask those
traveling to Al-Irák."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 offence405 was dispread, the escort said, "Dismount we in this garden406 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 Miskáls weight407 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 drowned408 in sleep they arose and sat in council, and quoth one of them, "Let us cut his throat from ear to ear;"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 Rabí'a,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 twas 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 loyalty411 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 part412 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;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 core414 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-collar415 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,
On this note, Sultan Habib said goodbye to his father and mother; but now listen to what happened to the knights who were escorting him. After many days of hard travel, they grew unhappy and discouraged; and soon after discussing among themselves, they said, "Let's kill this boy and take the loads of goods and coins he has with him; and when we get home and are asked about him, we'll say he died from his overwhelming desire for Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas." So they acted on this plan, while their lord knew nothing of the trap set for him by his followers. After riding all day, when night fell, the escort said, "Let's stop in this garden so we can rest during the night, and when morning comes, we will continue our journey." Sultan Habib didn't want to argue, so they all dismounted and sat in that garden, bringing out whatever food they had; after which they ate and drank their fill and lay down to sleep, all except their lord, who couldn't close his eyes due to his overwhelming longing. "O Habib, why aren't you sleeping?" they asked him, and he replied, "O my friends, how can I sleep when I long for my beloved? I won’t rest until I see the lifeblood of my heart, Durrat al-Ghawwas." They fell silent, and soon they began to discuss among themselves, saying, "Who among us can provide a dose of Bhang so we can put him to sleep, making it easy for us to kill him?" "I have two Miskáls of it," one of them replied, and they took it from him. When the time was right, they mixed it in a cup of water and offered it to Habib. He took the cup and drank the drugged liquid in one gulp; soon the Bhang took effect, clouding his senses and making him dizzy, and he fell into deep unconsciousness. Then the escort said, "As soon as he’s in the deepest sleep, we will rise, kill him, and bury him where he sleeps. Then we will return to his father and mother and tell them that he died from love for his beloved." They all agreed to this treachery. When dawn broke and the sun shone brightly, the knights awakened and saw their lord fast asleep, so they gathered for a discussion, and one of them said, "Let’s cut his throat." Another suggested, "No, let’s dig a pit the depth of a man, throw him in it, and cover him with earth so he will die, and no one will know." Hearing this, one of the group named Rabí'a replied, "But do you not fear Almighty Allah, and do you not remember the favors his father showed you? Do you forget the bread you ate in his house? Only recently, his father chose you to accompany him so that he might enjoy your company instead of his own, trusting you with his heart, and now you plan to kill him, destroying the lives of his parents? Furthermore, do you really think such evil can remain hidden from his father? I swear by the loyalty of the Arabs that no one will accept us after such a deed, not even the most insignificant person. So at least spare your households, clans, wives, and children you left behind. But now you intend to destroy us all and leave our memories marked as traitors, leading to our women being enslaved and our children being taken away, leaving us nothing to long for." They mocked him, saying, "Bring your righteous advice." So he asked, "Have you all decided to kill him and rob him?" They replied, "Yes." He countered, "Let me give you advice, though I won't be part of this. Your minds are made up for this, and you know better than I what you plan to do. But I urge you not to shed his blood and let only his crime weigh on your hands; if you want to take his camels, money, and supplies, take them and leave him be. If he survives, that's good; if he dies, it’s even better." "Your advice is good," they replied. So they took his horse, armor, sword, and all his possessions, leaving him naked on the ground while driving away his camels. Soon one asked another, "When we reach the tribe, what shall we tell his father and mother?" "Whatever Rabi'a tells us," they said. Rabi'a suggested, "Tell them, 'We didn’t travel with your son; while we were on the way, we lost sight of him. We found him unconscious on the road, called to him but got no response. When we shook him, he was like a dried-up stick. Seeing him dead, we buried him and brought back his goods and belongings.'" "And if they ask," one objected, "'Where did you bury him, and is it far or near?' what will you say? And if they question you, 'Why didn’t you bring his body?' how will you respond?" Rabi'a answered, "Tell them, 'We were weakened by heartbreak and thirst, and we couldn’t carry his body.' And if they ask, 'Couldn’t you have carried him on a camel?' say that you couldn’t for two reasons: the first being that his body was swollen and smelled in the heat, and the second that we feared for his father; seeing his only son rotting would be too much for him." All the men agreed to Rabi'a's plan, exclaiming, "This is indeed good advice." They continued their journey until they reached the tribe's area when they dismounted and put on black clothing, openly showing their sorrow. They went to the father's tent, crying and mourning loudly. When Emir Salamah saw their distress, he asked, "Where is my son?" They replied, "He is dead." This lie struck Salamah hard, and his grief deepened, causing him to throw dust on his head, pull out his beard, and tear his clothes, crying aloud, "Woe is me for my son! Woe is Habib! Woe for the piece of my heart! Woe for my sorrow!" His mother came out, saw her husband in despair, dust on his head, beard pulled out, and robe torn, and upon spotting her son’s horse, she screamed, "Woe is me for my child!" and fainted for an hour. When she recovered, she asked the knights, "Woe to you, men of evil! Where have you buried my boy?" They replied, "In a distant land that we don't know, completely desolate and inhabited by wild beasts," which caused her much grief. Then Emir Salamah, his wife, and the whole household donned black clothes and sprinkled ashes on themselves to sit on, finding no pleasure in food, drink, or anything; they mourned their loss and couldn’t comprehend what had happened to their son or the ill-fate that had befallen him. Such was their situation; but as for Sultan Habib, he slept on until the effects of the Bhang wore off, and Allah sent a cool breeze that entered his nostrils and made him sneeze, flushing the drug from his system. He sensed the warmth of the sun and came to his senses. Opening his eyes, he found himself in a barren wasteland, searching in vain for his knight companions, his horse, sword, spear, and armor, finding himself alone and vulnerable. He cried out in the vast desert before him, feeling overwhelmed, weeping, groaning, and pleading to Allah Almighty, saying, "O my God, my Lord, my Master, guide me if it has been written on the Guarded Tablet, as no one can help me but You, O Lord of Might, Grand and Powerful!" Then he began to improvise 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."
"Oh my God, I am running out of patience with my own pride; * Life's thread is breaking, and I see death approaching: To whom can a wronged person complain about their suffering and injustice * Except to the Lord (the best of all Lords!) who stands by my side."
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,
Now, while Sultan Habib was looking to his right and left, he saw a dark shape rising high into the air, and he thought to himself, "This dark object must surely be a great city or a large camp, so I should head over there before the sun overheats me, making it hard to walk, and I end up dying from exhaustion with no one knowing my fate." Then he steeled himself to come up with some poetry that came to mind, and he recited 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 Beings416 designed."
"Travel, because along the way you'll find all the good things; * And wake up from sleeping and dreaming if you're still tempted to stay asleep! Or win victory and rise to the highest heights * And gain, oh you wild spirit, the nourishment your soul has longed for; Or you might fall into sorrow with a heavy heart * And never enjoy the Fame that calls to the generous mind, And there’s no one who can stop Fate * Except the Lord of Worlds who created the Two Beings416."
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 Hammám, 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 Káf 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;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 place418 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 twill 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 couplets,
And when he finished his verse, Sultan Habib walked toward the darkness and didn’t stop until he got close to the ridge; but once he couldn't go any further and walking became painful for him (having never been used to walking on foot and barefoot), his strength faded, his joints felt weak, and his strong will weakened. Just when he felt confused about what to do, suddenly a huge snow-white bird, as big as the dome of a bathhouse, landed between his hands with legs like the trunk of a palm tree. Sultan Habib was amazed at the sight of this Rukh, and saying to himself, "Blessed be Allah the Creator!" he moved slowly toward it and, without the bird noticing, grabbed its legs. The bird spread its wings (with him still hanging on) and flew up into the sky, when a Voice was suddenly heard saying, "O Habib! O Habib! hold onto the bird tightly, or it will drop you to the ground and you’ll be shattered to pieces!" Hearing this, he tightened his grip, and the bird continued flying until it reached the dark outline of the mighty mountain Káf, where it set him down on the summit and flew on. Soon after, a Voice spoke to Sultan Habib, saying, "Sit down, O Habib; what brought you here on your way to Durrat al-Ghawwas is now in the past;" and as he heard these words, he gathered himself up, stood, and started down the mountain slope to the nearby plain, where he saw a cave. He thought to himself, "If I go into this cave, I might lose my way and die of hunger and thirst!" Then he reflected, "Death will come eventually, so why not take the risk and enter this cave?" As he stepped in, he heard someone shouting in a loud voice that echoed in his ears. Soon, the voice took the form of Al-Abbus, the Governor who had taught him combat skills; after greeting him joyfully, Habib recounted his love adventure to his old mentor. The Jinni held a sword in his left hand, crafted by the Jann, and in his right was a cup of water which he passed to his pupil. The drink made Habib faint for about an hour, and when he came around, Al-Abbus helped him sit up, bathed him, dressed him in exquisite clothes, and brought him some food, and they ate and drank together. Then Habib said to Al-Abbus, "Don’t you know what happened to me with Durrat al-Ghawwas, all the wonderful events?" Al-Abbus replied, "What might that be?" The young man answered, "O my brother, may Allah be pleased with you for appearing to me and guiding me to the one I love and the joy of my eyes." "Stop with such foolish talk," replied Al-Abbus, "for where are you and where is Durrat al-Ghawwas? There are horrors and dangers, vast lands and astonishing seas between you and her, filled with adventures that would astound the fiercest lions and experiences that would grey the hair of a child." Hearing this, Habib embraced his governor and kissed him between the eyes. The Jinni said, "O my dear one, if I had the power to unite you with her, I would do so, but first, I want to reunite you with your family in less time than the blink of an eye." "If I had wished for my own people," replied Habib, "I would never have left them, nor would I have risked my life, and you wouldn't see me here; but as it is, I won't turn back from my journey until my hope is fulfilled, even if that means my life ends, because I have no further need to exist." To this, the Jinni replied, "Know this, O Habib, the cave you are in holds the treasures of our Lord Solomon, son of David (peace be upon them both!), entrusted to my care, and I was forbidden to abandon them until he allows it, as well as to prevent both humans and Jinn from entering the Hoard. Know, O Habib, that in this cave is a treasure house with forty closets to the right and to the left. If you wish to see the wealth of pearls, rubies, and precious stones, before passing through the first door, dig under its threshold, and you will find the keys to all the stores buried there. Then take the first key and unlock its door, and you will be able to open the others and see the treasure within. When you decide to leave the Treasury, you will find a curtain hanging in front of you, fastened with eighty hooks of red gold; and beware of lifting the curtain without covering all the hooks with cotton." Saying this, he gave him a bundle of wool from a tree, and continued, "O Habib, once you lift the curtain, you will see a door with two red gold leaves, inscribed with couplets. If you master the meanings of the names and the talismans in the first couplet, you will be saved from all terrors and horrors; but if you fail to understand, you will perish in that Hoard. After opening the door, do not close it noisily or look back, and be careful, as I fear for you from those guard the place and its treasures. When you stand behind the curtain, you will see a sea raging with waves, and it's one of the Seven Mains that will show you, O Habib, wonders that will astonish you, and of which storytellers will tell the strangest tales. Then, take your position on the shore, and you will spot a ship sailing by; shout out to the crew, and they will come to you and take you on board. After that, I don't know what will happen to you in this ocean, and this is the end of what I have to say, O Habib, and—Peace be upon you!" At this point, the young man was filled with overwhelming joy and taking Al-Abbus's hand, kissed it, saying, "O my brother, you have given me good counsel in what you spoken, and may Allah reward you with all good, and keep you safe from all harm!" Al-Abbus answered, "O Habib, take this sword and strap it on, it will empower you and strengthen your heart, and wear this outfit that will protect you from your enemies." The young man did as he was told; then he bid farewell to the Jinni and set off on his journey, continuing forward until he reached the end of the cave. There, he found the door that his governor had told him about. So he approached its threshold, dug beneath it, and pulled out a black, creased bag that was stained from the passage of time. He opened it and found a key, which he used on the lock, and it opened immediately, allowing him to enter the Treasury where, due to the thick darkness, he could hardly see what he was holding. He thought to himself, "What should I do? Maybe Al-Abbus has brought my doom!" While he sat in this state, lost in thought, he suddenly saw a light shining from afar, and as he got closer, its brightness guided him to the curtain that the Jinni had mentioned. Looking up, he saw a tablet of emerald adorned with pearls and precious stones above it, while underneath lay treasures that lit up the place like the rising sun. He hurried toward it and found inscribed on the tablet the following two couplets,
"At him I wonder who from woe is free, * And who no joy
displays419 when safe is he:
And I admire how Time deludes man when * He views the past; but ah,
Time's tyranny."
"I wonder who is free from suffering, * And who shows no joy
when he feels safe: 419
And I marvel at how Time deceives people when * They look back at the past; but ah,
Time’s oppression."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';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,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,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 belly423 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 Sábúr, 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 harbour424 and cast anchor therein, when the canoes425 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,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-writ427 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;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 impale429 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.
So Sultan Habib read these verses multiple times and cried until he fainted; when he regained his senses, he thought, "Death would be better than living without my love!" He turned to the closets on either side, opened them all, and gazed at the mounds of gold and silver, the piles of rubies and precious stones, and the strings of pearls, marveling at everything he saw, and he said to himself, "If only one storehouse of these treasures were revealed, all the people on earth would be rich." Then he approached the curtain, from which Jinns and Ifrits appeared from every direction, and the noise and screams became so loud in his ears that he almost lost his mind. He took a moment to be patient for a full hour when suddenly, a smoke rose thick in the air, and the noise quieted as the Jinns disappeared. Remembering Al-Abbus's warning, he took out the cotton he had and quilted the golden hooks before pulling back the curtain and spotting the portal the Jinni had described. He inserted the key and opened it, and caught up in his fear and forgetfulness, he slammed the door shut behind him without looking back. At this, the Jinns rushed at him from all sides, yelling, "Oh you most despicable human, why do you provoke us and disturb our peace? If it weren't for your attire resembling the Jinn, we would have killed you on the spot." But Habib didn’t reply and, gathering his patience and piety, he waited until the chaos settled, and the Jinns stopped calling out to him. When the storm calmed, he walked towards the shore and looked at the ocean crashing with waves. He marveled at the waves and said to himself, "Indeed, only Allah knows the secrets of the sea and the mysteries of the deep!" Soon, he saw a ship along the shore, so he sat on the sand until night fell. He was extremely hungry and very thirsty. But when morning came, and the day revealed its brightness, he awoke in great distress and saw two mermaids, both as beautiful as moons, emerging nearby. One of them said to the other, "Do you know the man sitting there?" "I don't know him," replied the other, to which her companion said, "This is Sultan Habib, who is searching for Durrat al-Ghawwas, our queen." Hearing this, the young man reflected deeply, and marveling at their beauty, he felt joy and delight rise within him. Then one mermaid said to the other, "It seems that Sultan Habib is a bit lacking in understanding; how can he love Durrat al-Ghawwas when the distance between them is a sea voyage of a full year across the most dangerous depths? After all he's been through, why doesn’t he just go home and spare himself these horrors that could lead to his destruction?" The other replied, "I wish I knew if he would ever reach her!" to which her companion said, "Yes, he will reach her, but after a long time filled with much sorrow." When Habib heard this promise of success from the mermaids, he felt his sorrow lift, forgetting his hunger and thirst. While he was lost in these thoughts, a third mermaid emerged from the ocean, asking her companions, "What are you talking about?" They replied, "Sultan Habib has been sitting here on the shore for the fourth consecutive night." The third one said, "I have a cousin who visited me last night, and I asked her if any ship had passed by. She replied, 'Yes, a ship was driven toward us by a fierce storm, and its purpose was to find you.'" The others responded, "May Allah bring you good news!" Hearing this, Habib felt great joy; and soon the three mermaids called out to each other and dove into the depths, leaving him standing on the shore. Shortly after, he heard the crew's cries from the ship, and he shouted to them. They noticed him and rowed to the shore to pick him up. When he complained of hunger and thirst, they offered him food and drink and asked, "Who are you? Are you a trader?" "I am the merchant such-and-such," he replied. "My ship sank, even though it was a great vessel; one day, as we sailed, a terrible storm hit us, breaking our ship's timber, and all my companions perished while I floated on a plank until I washed ashore. I've been adrift for three days, and this is my fourth night." Upon hearing this, the traders reassured him, "Don't worry; be of good cheer. The sea voyage is fraught with risks, but there’s gain to be had. If Allah preserves us and provides for us, we will share what we have with you." They kept sailing until a storm struck, tossing their vessel left and right, losing its course. The pilot shouted, "Everyone on board, prepare to abandon ship! We're being driven into uncharted waters, and we can't navigate because the wind is against us." The travelers began to weep for their lives and belongings, and Sultan Habib cried tears that ran down his cheeks, exclaiming, "I wish I had died before witnessing such torment; this is truly extraordinary." But when the merchants saw him so distressed and crying, they said, "Oh Monarch of the Merchants, don't let your heart be troubled or your spirit downcast. Surely, Allah will grant joy to us and to you. Can regret, sorrow, or tears really help? Instead, pray to the Almighty for relief and that our voyage continues." As the ship sailed through the ocean's depths, it suddenly stopped, not turning right or left, and the pilot called out, "Is there anyone here who understands this ocean?" They replied, "We know nothing about it; we didn't see anything like it during our voyage." The pilot continued, "This ocean is called 'The Azure'; no trader who has sailed here has returned without facing destruction, for it is the home of Jinns and the domain of Ifrits. The one now holding our vessel from its path is known as Al-Ghashamsham, and our lord Solomon, son of David (peace be upon both), commissioned him to capture and take away humans and especially merchants who voyage through these banned waters, and to eat them alive." "Woe to you!" cried Habib. "Why do you suggest we consult each other when you tell us that a demon dwells here whom we cannot oppose, terrifying us with thoughts of being devoured by him? But don’t be afraid; I will protect you from this Ifrit." They replied, "We fear for your life, O Monarch of the Merchants," and he said, "You have nothing to fear." He then put on a closely woven armor and armed himself with a magical sword and spear; next, he fashioned a hood and eye shield from freshly killed animal skins, wrapping strips around his arms and legs to shield himself from harm. After that, he instructed his crewmates to bind him with ropes under his arms and lower him into the ocean's depths. As soon as he touched the bottom, he was met by the Ifrit, who rushed at him intending to devour him, but Sultan Habib raised his arm and with the sword struck a blow that severed his neck, killing him instantly. The youth, seeing his enemy slain, signaled to his crewmates who pulled him back aboard. The ship then sped forward like an arrow shot from a bow. All the traders marveled at this extraordinary event and hurried to him, kissing his feet and saying, "Oh Monarch of the Merchants, how did you manage to defeat him?" "When I sank into the depths to confront him, I sought Allah's help, and He granted me assistance, enabling me to strike him down," he replied. Hearing this good news and knowing their enemy had been vanquished, the traders offered him their goods and riches, but he refused to take anything, even a single mustard seed. Among them was an elderly man, wise in all matters, who approached the youth and humbly said, "By the one who sent you to us, who are you, what is your name, and what brought you to this ocean?" Sultan Habib initially declined to reveal anything about his journey, but when the old man persisted in questioning, he eventually shared everything that had happened to him. As they sailed on, the pilot suddenly called out, "Rejoice, everyone! Celebrate, for you are saved from the dangers of this treacherous ocean, and you are approaching the city of Sábúr, the king who rules the Crystal Isles. His capital, which is populous and prosperous, ranks first among the cities of Al-Hind, and his rule is the foremost of the Isles of the Sea." The ship turned toward the city, gradually drawing near and entering the harbor, whereupon they dropped anchor, and canoes appeared, and the porters came on board to take the voyagers' luggage, freeing them from all worry. Such was their situation; meanwhile, Durrat al-Ghawwas, having parted from her lover Sultan Habib, felt heavy-hearted and found no joy in food, drink, or sleep. One day, while sitting on her throne, an Ifrit approached her and said, "Peace be upon you, O Queen of the Age, Empress of Time and Tide!" to which she replied, "And peace upon you, and the mercy and blessings of Allah. What do you seek, O Ifrit?" He said, "A ship of merchants has recently come, and I have heard that Sultan Habib is among them." Upon hearing this, she rewarded the Ifrit and said, "If you speak the truth, I will grant you whatever you wish." After confirming the news, she ordered the city to be decorated with the finest adornments, to sound drums of joy, and to spread a carpet of silk along the path to the palace, and they complied. Soon she summoned her attendants, commanding them to bring her lover to her; they went to him and told him to follow them. He followed them until they brought him to the palace, where the Queen commanded all her attendants to leave except for the two of them, Sultan Habib and Durrat al-Ghawwas. After their joyful reunion, she called the Kazi and his helpers to write her marriage contract with Habib. He did as instructed; witnesses testified to the contract and the dowry was paid, thus the bond was formed, and the wedding celebrations began. The bride donned her finest dress, the wedding procession formed, and the marriage was consummated, bringing immense joy to both. This state continued for a long time until Sultan Habib began yearning for his parents, family, and homeland; eventually, one day, during a banquet prepared for him by his bride, he refused to eat. Noticing his condition, she said to him, "Be happy; tonight you will be with your own people." She summoned her Jinn minister, and when he arrived, she announced among the nobles and commoners of the capital, "My minister will act as my deputy over you; anyone who disobeys him, I will have executed." They replied, "We will obey Allah, you, and your minister." Then she turned to her newly appointed deputy, saying, "I wish you to take me to the garden where Sultan Habib was." He replied, "It will be my honor!" An Ifrit was summoned, and Habib climbed on his back along with Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas, who commanded him to take them to the specified garden, and the Jinn flew away, arriving in the blink of an eye. Thus Sultan Habib reunited with Durrat al-Ghawwas joyfully; as for Emir Salamah and his wife, while they were together reminiscing about their only child and pondering what might have happened to him, suddenly Sultan Habib appeared before them with Durrat al-Ghawwas as his bride. When they saw him and her, tears of joy overwhelmed them, and both parents embraced him, fainting from the overwhelming delight. Once they regained their composure, the young man recounted all that had happened to him. They congratulated each other and drums of celebration sounded as people from all the Bedouin tribes and towns gathered to offer their heartfelt congratulations on their reunion. The encampment was decorated in full, and festivities were scheduled for a week to celebrate their joy and happiness; banquets were prepared, trays were set out, and everyone enjoyed the best of life with food and drink, ensuring that the hungry were satisfied, and the poor and needy were well-fed until the end of the seventh day. After this, they sought to punish the ten knights Emir Salamah had sent to escort his son, and Sultan Habib ordered them to be held accountable, demanding restitution for all the coins, goods, horses, and camels entrusted to them by his father. Once they returned the items, he commanded that stakes be erected in the garden where he had sat with his bride, and there, before everyone, he had each one impaled on their own stake. From then on, the united family lived a life of joy and happiness without end until old Emir Salamah passed away, and they mourned him profoundly for seven days. After the mourning period, his son Sultan Habib took over his role and received the respect of all tribes and clans who came to him, praying for his success and long life; even the most stubborn began to bow their heads in submission. Thus he ruled over the Crystal Isles of Sabur, his father-in-law, with fairness and righteousness, and his queen, Durrat al-Ghawwas, bore him many children, who later followed in their father's footsteps. And so ends the tale of Sultan Habib and Durrat al-Ghawwas, perfectly and completely with good fortune.
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 rôle is that of the naïve ingénue, 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.
The older translators of this "New Arabian Night" have really messed up this novel, at least as the original is presented in my text and Gauttier's edition (vii, 60-90). In their attempt to make it more French, they've dressed it up in a purely European style that’s the worst kind. Among the bland details are the Crystalline Islands divided into the White, Yellow, Green, and Blue; with Genies like Abarikaff, the monstrous Racachik, Ilbaccaras, and Mokilras; and the ridiculous journey of Habib to Mount Kaf with his silly reflections. Even the "Roc" can’t come to his rescue without "a damask cushion suspended between its feet by silken cords" for the comfort of the "Arabian Knight." The Treasury of Solomon, "who established the principles of knowledge through 366 hieroglyphics, each of which required a day's study even for the brightest mind to grasp," is dragged out as if the episode were meant for a tabloid. In my text, the "Maidens of the Main" are just there to say a few lines and move the plot forward. In the French version, Ilzaide the elder turns into a "leading lady," playing the role of a naive ingénue known for her "wit" and "energy": "it's hard not to smile at the cheerful comments of her good nature and simplicity." I see her as a typical flirty, chatty little French soubrette who openly flirts with "the master." Habib affectionately calls his governess, the "good old lady," "Esek! Esek!" which in Turkish means donkey. I hardly need to elaborate on these absurdities; anyone interested can just 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 littérateur, had prepared for caricaturing the unfortunate Habib by carefully writing up Fénélon, Rousseau, and Richardson; and had grafted his own ideas of morale upon the wild stem of the Arabian novel.
At the end of the French version of the story, we find a note titled:—Observations by the French Editor on the "History of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian Knight," which is based not on the original text but on the Western distortion. It's described as "more of a poem than just a simple tale," and should be seen as "a Romance of Chivalry that combines the two main features of such works—entertainment and learning." Habib's education is compared to that of Telemachus, and his endurance is aligned with Rousseau's advice in "Emilius" as well as the experiences of Robinson Crusoe. Lastly, "Grandison is already fully formed: Habib is someone who needs guidance." I can't help but suspect that while reading this Western reinterpretation of an Eastern work, M. Cazotte, a typical writer, carefully molded Fénélon, Rousseau, and Richardson's ideas to caricature the unfortunate Habib, and grafted his own moral views onto the wild roots of the Arabian novel.
APPENDIX.
NOTES ON THE STORIES CONTAINED IN VOLUME XVI. 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 Havamál 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.
Haykar's teachings can be favorably compared to those of other nations, both in the East and West, during a similar stage of civilization, which typically follow very similar patterns. Many of these teachings have parallels not only in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, as we might expect, but even in the Havamál of the Elder Edda. Regarding this, Thorpe notes in his translation (i. p. 36 note): "Odin is the 'High One.' The poem is a collection of rules and maxims, and stories about himself, some of which don’t align well with our ideas of a supreme deity." The style of the Icelandic poem and the social norms of the time it was written are, of course, as different from those of Haykar as Iceland is from Syria, but human nature remains unchanged.
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.
Pp. 22-24.—There are two types of tricks similar to those used by Haykar that are common in folk tales. In one type, the hero defeats and usually destroys his opponent (often a giant) by taking advantage of their gullibility, like when Jack hid in a corner of the room, left a bundle of sticks in his bed for the giant to hit, and then killed the giant by pretending to cut himself open, daring the giant to do the same. In other cases, the hero outsmarts his foes using tricks that are considered fair but aren’t meant to truly deceive, like the methods the blind Shaykh uses to teach the merchant how to outwit swindlers in one of the Sindibad stories (vol. vi., pp. 202-212, No. 135x., of our Table). In the current story, Pharaoh is outsmarted by Haykar's superior cleverness, but it isn't entirely clear whether he actually believed in Haykar's ability to build a castle in the air. Still, the story likely belongs to the second category.
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.)
P. 25.—Twisting ropes from sand was a trick that Michael Scot used to outsmart a devil he had to keep busy. (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.
I think the "Robber-Caliph" is sometimes performed as a comedy, which it is suited for. The comparison made between the Caliph and a robber might remind the reader of the meeting between Alexander the Great and the Robber in "Evenings at Home." It’s hard not to feel for the unhappy young Merchant who acted as a snitch and be relieved that he managed to escape unharmed.
P. 34.—In some versions of this story Harun's abstention from his bride for a year is attributed to a previous vow.
P. 34.—In some versions of this story, Harun's decision to stay away from his bride for a year is linked 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.)
P. 46 and note 4.—This passage about the Caliph's character can be compared to his forgetfulness about 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. 69-87).
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 (Khwárizm), 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. Turándokht 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.
This story, although much shorter, closely parallels 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 forced to flee their kingdom by the Sultan of Carizme (Khwárizm) and seek refuge with the Khan of Berlas, where the old King and Queen stay. Meanwhile, Calaf travels to China, where he enters an intellectual contest with Princess Tourandocte (Turandot, meaning Turándokht or Turan's daughter). Just as Turandot is about to lose, she sends her confidante, a captive princess, to Calaf to discover his secret (his name). The confidante, who is in love with Calaf, frightens him with a lie that Turandot plans to have him secretly killed; although he accidentally reveals his name in his panic, he refuses to escape with her. The next morning, Turandot tells Calaf his name but reassures him that she has decided to accept him as her husband instead of executing him, leading to the suicide of the slave princess. Messengers are then sent for Calaf's parents, who arrive with the friendly Khan who had offered them shelter. Calaf then leads an attack against the Sultan of Carizme, who is defeated and killed, and his subjects easily surrender 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.—According to Jewish tradition, Moses's rod changed into such a fearsome dragon that the Egyptians ran away, and 60,000 of them were killed in the chaos.—(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 grass.
P. 77, note 4.—For a long time, people denied that ants stored grain because our English ants don’t; but it’s now widely recognized that many foreign species, some of which live in countries around the Mediterranean (including Palestine), collect large amounts of grass seeds in their nests. Furthermore, one type of ant found in North America is said to actually cultivate a specific kind of grass.
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,"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. 81, note 6.—People interested in the succession of the Patriarchs can check out Joseph Jacobs' article on "Junior-right in Genesis,"430 where the author argues that it was the original tradition among the Hebrews, similar to other cultures, for the youngest son to inherit his father's property after the older sons had already settled elsewhere. There is a lot of support for this author’s conclusions, and it’s worth noting that our own monarchy wasn’t considered hereditary until the time of the Conquest, with the most capable or strongest relative of the deceased King typically taking the throne, while minors were often bypassed unless powerful politicians wanted to use them as mere pawns. In the Estonian Kalevipoeg, this system is even more evident. Three sons are at home when Kalev dies, but the youngest is chosen by him as his successor and later selected by lot as the special favorite 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 (infrà).
P. 84, note 4.—Even though it doesn’t relate to the current story, I want to highlight the significance of the bridle in all the folk tales that involve transforming humans into domestic animals. It's clearly suggested (though not explicitly stated) in the tale of Julnar the Sea Born (No. 153) that Abdallah and Badr Basim’s control over Queen Lab, while she was in the form of a mule, relied entirely on them keeping hold of the bridle (see Nights, vol. vii., p. 304, and note). There are many stories about magicians who turn themselves into horses, etc., for their friends to sell; however, the bridle should never be handed over with the horse. If this is overlooked (intentionally or not), the magician can’t revert to their human form at will. See also Spitta-Bey's story No. 1 (below).
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 Bubúr. 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!
This story is found in Chavis and Cazotte's version, as well as in various translations from the French, in a highly detailed form, titled "The Adventures of Simoustapha, and the Princess Ilsetilsone." The Caliph and his Wazir are represented as Harun Al-Rashid and Ja'afar, but they don’t undergo any transformations at the hands of the Magician, after whose death Prince Simoustapha is protected by Setelpedour Ginatille, interpreted as the Star of the Seven Seas, although her first name seems to be a distortion of Sitt El Bubúr. She is the queen of Ginnistan and the daughter of Kokopilesobe (Satan), whose battles with Mahomet and Michael (the first of whom continues the conflict by "becoming man") are described along the lines approved by Milton. Her main advisors are Bahlisboull (Beelzebub) and Asmonchar (Asmodeus), but ultimately she falls in love with Simoustapha and gives up her sovereignty. After that, he takes her away and marries her. The mother of Ilsetilsone, "the sensible Zobeide, now formed a much truer and more favorable judgment of her daughter's happiness, since she had shared Simoustapha's heart with Setelpedour, and finally agreed that the union of one man with two women could bring great happiness to all three, provided that one of the wives happened to be a fairy." (Weber, ii. p. 50.) A rather encouraging sentiment for would-be polygamists, especially in Europe, where fairies seem to vanish before the progress of civilization just as surely as wild beasts do from 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:
P. 99.—These apparitions are similar to those that typically come before the visions that appear in the famous ink pool. However, the sweeper isn’t mentioned in this story, and I don’t recall reading about him in cases of crystal sight, although Dante Gabriel Rossetti includes him in his beautiful poem, "Rose Mary," as a precursor to 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.'"
"'I see a man with a gray broom That sweeps the flying dust away.' 'Yes, that comes first in the mystical realm; But now that the path is swept and clear Pay close attention to what you see next 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.
P. 104, note 1.—Regarding the significance of "three days," I can mention the "three days and three nights" that Christ is commonly believed to have spent in the tomb. I think some mystics claim that three days is the typical time it takes for a person to regain 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:
Pp. 106, 107.—These crafted lions remind us of the display of power shown by Abu Mohammed, called Lazybones (No. 37; Nights, iv., p. 165). Their Eastern originals are likely the lions and eagles that the Jinn decorated Solomon's throne with. In the West, we encounter Southey's entertaining tale 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."
"'Help, help, Blessed Mary,' he yelled in panic,
As the scaffold gave way beneath him;
From the canvas the Virgin reached out her arm;
She caught the good Painter; she saved him from danger;
There were hundreds who witnessed it 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, &c.).
The magical palaces of the Firm Island, with their wonders of the Hart and the Dogs, etc., can also be mentioned (Amadis of Gaul, book II., chap. 21, etc.).
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.
Pp. 107, 108.—Stories of people changing sex are pretty common in Eastern and classical mythology and folklore; usually, as in this case, it's a man turning into a woman, although we occasionally see the opposite (at least it seems that way) in modern medical texts.
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, Cæneus, and Iphis. Turning to India, we meet with the prototype of Cæneus 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 Pachisí; and no doubt many others might be quoted.
In the Nights, we have the story of the Enchanted Spring (No. 135j) in the great Sindibad cycle (Nights, vi., pp. 145-150), and Lane (Modern Egyptians, chap. xxv.) shares a story he heard in Cairo that’s more similar to that of the transformed Wazir. In classical legend, we find the stories of Tiresias, Cæneus, and Iphis. Looking at India, we see the prototype of Cæneus in Amba, who was reincarnated as Sikhandin to take revenge on Bhishma, and later swapped her gender with a Yaksha, becoming a great warrior (Mahabharata Udyoga-Parva, 5942-7057). Some versions of the Enchanted Spring depict the Prince regaining his gender through an exchange with a demon, showing a shift from the story of Sikhandin to later variations. There’s also a story of gender change in the Hindi Baital Pachisí; and undoubtedly, many others could be mentioned.
History of What Befel the Fowl-let with the Fowler (Pp. 119-128).
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. Väinäimöinen, 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.
One of the most intriguing stories about the escape of a captured prey can be found in the 5th Canto of the Finnish Kalevala. Väinäimöinen, the old minstrel, is fishing in the lake where his love, Aino, drowned herself because she refused to marry an old man. He hooks a salmon that looks very unusual, and while he thinks about how to cut it up and cook it, it jumps from the boat into the water and scolds him for his foolishness, telling him that it is Aino (now transformed into a water-nymph) who appeared to be his life partner. But because of his foolishness in wanting to eat her, he has now lost her forever. After that, she disappears, and all his attempts to find her again are in vain.
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).
P. 138, note 6.—I should mention that there's an episode included in the Westernized version of this story about the romance between Chebib's son and the Princess of Herak. This is clearly taken from the initial nighttime encounter of Kamaralzaman and Budur (No. 21, Nights, iii., pp. 223-242) and follows a very similar pattern (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."
P. 197, note 1.—Color epithets used to describe seas often have purely mythological meanings in Eastern stories. For example, in the tale of Zaher and Ali (see my "New Arabian Nights," p. 13), it mentions, "You are currently on an island of the Black Sea, which surrounds all other seas and flows within Mount Kaf. According to travelers’ accounts, it takes ten years to reach the Blue Sea, and it takes a full ten years to cross it again to get to the Green Sea, after which there's another ten-year journey before you finally reach the Greek Sea, which leads 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.
Kenealy mentions (in a note to his poem on "Night") that the Atlantic Ocean is referred to as the Sea of Darkness because of the massive influx of water that led to its formation; however, this is one of his claims about facts that aren't widely understood, and he felt it was unnecessary to provide a source for it.
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.
P. 200.—According to one description of impalement that I’ve seen, the stake is pushed through the flesh of the back under 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.
Reading the story of the Crucifixion closely, I’ve concluded that Christ’s sudden death was caused by the drink offered to him on the sponge. The liquid is said to be vinegar, not water; but it could have had the same impact, or perhaps water was swapped in, possibly with Pilate’s approval. In that case, vinegar might have just been mentioned as a distraction to mislead the zealous Jews. The scattered accounts of the Crucifixion that we have allow for many different interpretations of the details.
INDEX TO THE TALES, AND PROPER NAMES, TOGETHER WITH ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF NOTES IN VOLUMES XI. TO XVI.
Also Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand and One Nights.
INDEX TO THE TALES AND PROPER NAMES IN THE SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS.
N.B.—The Roman numerals denote the volume, the Arabic the page. {The Arabic numerals have been discarded}
N.B.—The Roman numerals indicate the volume, while the Arabic numerals indicate 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 Nafí', 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-'Abbás, 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.
Clebs 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,
iv.
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 Nafí', 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-'Abbás, 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, Clebs 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,
iv.
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,
iv.
Sultan and the Poor Man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the,
iv.
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,
i.
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.
```
Abbasid, 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 Nafī', 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-'Abbás, 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 bore 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.
Cǿlebs 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,
iv.
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 Nafī', 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-'Abbás, 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 bore 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 knew 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 befell
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, Cǿlebs 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,
iv.
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 befell 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 knew 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,
iv.
Sultan and the Poor Man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the,
iv.
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,
i.
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 sleep with his father's, v.
Woman of the Barmecides, Harun Al-Rashid and the, i.
Woman, Tale of the Robber and the, i.
Woman who humored 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 sleep with 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.
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.
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 knew 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
Here, I’m including notes on important works that I hadn't seen when my "Contributions" were published, or that have come out since then.
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:
One of the most important works that has come out recently related to the Thousand and One Nights is the following:
Histoire d' 'Alâ Al-Dîn ou la Lampe Merveilleuse. Texte Arabe publié avec une notice sur quelques manuscrits des Mille et une Nuits par H. Zotenberg, roy. 8vo. Paris, Imprimérie Nationale, 1888
Histoire d' 'Alâ Al-Dîn ou la Lampe Merveilleuse. Texte Arabe publié avec une notice sur quelques manuscrits des Mille et une Nuits par H. Zotenberg, roy. 8vo. Paris, Imprimérie 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.431
The release of this work puts to rest the many theories from scholars about the origin of Galland's unknown stories; the notes on different manuscripts of the Nights are also quite valuable. Thus, it seems fitting to provide a reasonably detailed overview of the book's contents.431
M. Zotenberg begins with general remarks, and passes on to discuss Galland's edition. [Section I.]—Although Galland frequently speaks of Oriental tales432, 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.
M. Zotenberg starts with some general comments before moving on to talk about Galland's edition. [Section I.]—Even though Galland often mentions Oriental tales432 in his journal from his time in Constantinople in 1672 and 1673, he tells us in his Dedication to the Marquise d'O. that he only managed to acquire part of the manuscript of the Nights from Syria with great difficulty after returning 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 Bibliothèque 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.
There is some uncertainty about when the first 6 volumes of Galland's "Mille et une Nuit" were published. Caussin de Perceval claims that volumes 1 and 2 came out together in 1704, and volumes 3 and 4 were released later that same year. However, in the copy at the Bibliothèque Nationale, volumes 1 and 4 are labeled 1704, while volumes 2, 5, and 6 are marked 1705; volume 3 is missing, similar to how we only have odd volumes of the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th English editions at the British Museum, with the 1st edition still being completely 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.
M. Zotenberg provides a description of Galland's manuscript (see Nights, x. App., p. 414) and includes a sample page as a facsimile. Based on the style of the writing and other factors, he believes it was copied in the latter half of the 14th century (Sir R. F. Burton suggests around A.D. 1384). Interestingly, there is a 15th-century manuscript in the Vatican Library that seems to be almost identical to Galland's, also containing only the first 282 Nights. Galland's manuscript is missing a leaf that covers part of Night 102 to the beginning of Night 104, which includes the story of the Hunchback and his antics; this gap is filled in the Vatican manuscript.
Habìcht'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 Habìcht's MS., though obtained at Tunis, came originally from Egypt. He considers the ordinary Egyptian texts to be generally abridged and condensed.
Habìcht's version is recognized as being closer to Galland's manuscript than the texts based on the Egyptian texts. However, in making this point, Zotenberg fails to acknowledge the claim that Habìcht's manuscript, although acquired in Tunis, originally came from Egypt. He views the typical Egyptian texts as generally shortened 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 rècit, à suivi un texte plus developpé que celui du MS. 1508, texte dont la rédaction égyptienne ne presente qu'un maladroit abrégé." He quotes other instances which seem to show that Galland had more than one text at his disposal.
Although it's clear that Galland heavily relied on this manuscript for his translation, M. Zotenberg points out several discrepancies, particularly at the beginning of the work, which led Caussin de Perceval to view Galland's work as just a paraphrase of the original. However, M. Zotenberg (p. 14) writes, "Obviously, Galland, for the translation of the beginning of the narrative, followed a more developed text than that of MS. 1508, a text whose Egyptian version presents only a clumsy abridgment." He cites other examples that suggest Galland had access to more than one text.
[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 Khailedján ibn Háman, the Persian; Story of the Two Old Men, and of Báz al-Aschbáb 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 (étang) and underwent metamorphoses:433 anecdotes and apothegms; a portion of the Kalila and Dimna ?
[Section II.]—At the start of the 17th century, there were only two manuscripts of the Nights in the libraries of Paris, one in Arabic and the other in Turkish. The Arabic manuscript contains 870 Nights and is divided into 29 sections, though this division is arbitrary. M. Zotenberg believes that this manuscript is what Galland referred to when he mentioned that the complete work was in 36 parts. The stories follow the order of our Table up to No. 7 (with Nos. 2ab, 2ac, and 3ba missing); the rest are irregular and are as follows: 153, 154, 154a, 20; the story of Khailedján ibn Háman, the Persian; the Story of the Two Old Men, and Báz al-Aschbáb Abou Lahab; 9, apparently including as episodes 9a, 9aa, 21, 8, 9b, 170, 181r to 181bb, 137, 154 (beginning repeated), 181u to 181bb (repeated), 135a, Adventures of a traveler who entered a pond (étang) and experienced transformations:433 anecdotes and sayings; a part 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 'Attáf ibn Ismá'il al-Schoqláni of Damascus and the schaikh Abou-'l-Baraka al-Nawwám, 6; Story told by the Christian Merchant (relating to Qamar al-Zamán 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 Maháni; 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-Khán, of Bahrám-Scháh, 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 Turkish manuscript (in 11 volumes) consists of several incomplete copies that have been poorly assembled. The main part includes volumes 2-10, which are written in three different styles and some are dated 1046 A.H. The contents of these nine volumes are as follows: Introduction and volumes 1-3 (missing 2ab), the story of 'Abdallah of Basra, volume 5; the story of 'Attáf ibn Ismá'il al-Schoqláni from Damascus and the sheikh Abou-'l-Baraka al-Nawwám, volume 6; a story told by a Christian merchant (related to Qamar al-Zamán during the reign of Sultan Mahmoud, which is different from the story known by that title); the story of Ahmad al-Saghir (the gossip) and Schams al-Qosour; the story of the young man from Baghdad and the bath attendant (Baigneur, who works in a Hammam), volume 7; 153; 21; the story of Khaledjan ibn Maháni; the story of Nour al-Din 'All and Dounya (or Dinar) from Damascus, 133; the story of Prince Qamar-Khan and the sheikh 'Ate, of Sultan Mahmoud-Khán, Bahrám-Scháh, 'Abdallah ibn Hilal, Harout and Marout, etc.; the story of Qowwat al-Qoloub; 9, including episodes 9a; 8; the 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 Bibliothèque Nationale, appears to be missing.
The other volumes (1 and 11 of the manuscript) both contain the beginning of the manuscript. Volume I was written towards the end of the 17th century and goes up to about Night 55, ending with No. 7, which comes after No. 3. Volume 11, which used to belong to Galland, includes only part of the Introduction. The text of these two fragments is similar but differs quite a bit from volume 2 of the manuscript; examples of the beginnings of volumes 1 and 2 are provided to illustrate this. It’s surprising that Galland doesn’t seem to have used these Turkish volumes; and the second manuscript that he actually did use, like the 4th volume of the copy kept in the Bibliothèque Nationale, seems to be missing.
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.
M. Zotenberg notes the absence of volume 4 of Galland and quotes excerpts from Galland's Diary, pointing out that Nos. 191, 192, and 192a were secretly added to his work without his knowledge, much to his frustration. These excerpts were translated by Petis de la Croix and were likely meant 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.
[Section III.]—This is one of the most important parts of the book, where excerpts from Galland's Diary of 1709 are cited, showing that he was in regular contact with a Christian Maronite from Aleppo named Hanna (Jean), who was brought to Paris by the traveler Paul Lucas. Hanna shared stories with Galland, and he took extensive notes, most of which he later incorporated into the later volumes of his "Mille et une Nuit." Among these were 193, 194a, 194b, 59, 197, 198, 174, 195, 194c, 196. The following tales he did not use: An Arab story about two cousins, Camar eddin and Bedr el Bodour; the Golden City (a different version of the story of the Three Princes found in No. 198, combined with the tale of the woman who killed those who couldn’t 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.
Further entries from Galland's Diary are included, covering the period from Hanna's departure from Paris between June and October 1709, to the completion of the 12th volume of Mille et une Nuit in 1712. These relate to the ongoing development of the work, the associated business matters, and Hanna's name is mentioned from time to time.
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.
Hanna provided Galland with a written version of No. 193, and probably of 194 a-c (that is, most of the stories in volumes 9 and 10); however, the stories in volumes 11 and 12 were apparently edited by Galland based on his notes and memories of Hanna's narrations. These include Nos. 195, 196, 59, 197, and 198. M. Zotenberg concludes that Hanna had a manuscript containing all these stories, part of which he copied for Galland, and that this copy, along with several other important volumes that Galland is known or believed to have owned, was lost. M. Zotenberg thinks we can expect to find most of Hanna's stories either in other versions of the Nights or in some other similar collection. The latter idea seems to me to be the most likely.
[Section IV.]—M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of one or two very important MSS. of the Nights in the Bibliothèque 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 "Kabíkaj" thrice repeated. This, he explains, "est le nom du génie préposé au régne des insectes. Les scribes, parfois, l'invoquent pour preserver leurs manuscrits de l'atteinte de vers."
[Section IV.]—M. Zotenberg goes on to describe one or two very important manuscripts of the Nights in the Bibliothèque Nationale. One of these is a manuscript that belonged to the elder Caussin and was carefully copied by Michael Sabbagh from a manuscript in 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 includes a note at the end, which finishes with the word "Kabíkaj" repeated three times. He explains that "is the name of the spirit responsible for the kingdom of insects. Scribes sometimes invoke it to protect their manuscripts from the attack of worms."
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 'Amír and Ghadir, and their children Djamil and Bathina.
This manuscript was copied in parts on European paper at the start of the century, although Caussin de Perceval was not familiar with it in 1806, only with a manuscript of the Egyptian version. This manuscript aligns with Galland's only up to the 69th Night. It differs in two other respects; it includes No. 1c, and the end of No. 3 matches 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), along with episodes 155, 32, and the story of the two brothers 'Amír 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 manuscript, used by Chavis, Cazotte, and Caussin de Perceval, was written in 1772. It has been overlooked because late M. Reinaud's Catalogue mistakenly described it as a manuscript containing part of the 1001 Nights, covering from Night 282 to Night 631, and claimed it was copied by Chavis. It is not from Chavis's hand and does not belong to the usual 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.
Another manuscript, genuinely written by Chavis, starts right where Volume 3 of Galland's manuscript ends, meaning it's in the middle of No. 21, and goes from Night 281 to Night 631. M. Zotenberg thinks it was created to fill in for the missing last volume of Galland's collection. It includes the following stories in addition to the ending of No. 21: 170, 247, 204c, 8, 191, 193, and 174. M. Zotenberg proposes that the first part of this manuscript might have been copied from Galland's last volume, which could have been in private ownership at the time.
The two last MSS. contain nearly the same tales, though with numerous variations.
The last two manuscripts contain almost the same stories, but with many variations.
M. Zotenberg discusses the hypothesis of Chavis' MS. being a translation from the French, and definitely rejects it.
M. Zotenberg talks about the idea that Chavis' manuscript is a translation from French and outright dismisses 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.
[Section V.]—Here M. Zotenberg discusses the manuscripts of the Nights in general and categorizes them into three groups. 1. Manuscripts from Muslim parts of Asia. These, except for the manuscripts of Michael Sabbagh and Chavis, contain only the first part of the work. They are all somewhat incomplete and end abruptly in the middle of the text. They vary in consistency, especially in their readings, but generally include the same tales in the same order. II. Recent manuscripts of Egyptian origin, characterized by a unique style and a more concise narrative; notable for the nature and arrangement of the tales, a large number of anecdotes and fables; and for including the famous romance of chivalry of King Omar Bin Al-Nu'uman in the early part of the work. III. Manuscripts, mostly of Egyptian origin, that differ significantly from each other in the arrangement of the tales, similar to those in the other groups.
The following MSS. are mentioned as belonging to the first group:—
The following manuscripts are mentioned as belonging to the first group:—
I. Galland's MS. in the Bibliothèque 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.
1716).
The following MSS. are enumerated as belonging to the second group:—
I. Galland's manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Nos. 1506-1508.
II. Manuscript in the Vatican, No. 782.
III. Dr. Russell's manuscript from Aleppo.
IV. Manuscript in the Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. 1715, I and II).
V. Manuscript in the Library of Christ Church College, Oxford (No. ccvii).
VI. Manuscript in the Library of the India Office, London (No. 2699).
VII. Sir W. Jones' manuscript, used by Richardson.
VIII. Rich's manuscript in the Library of the British Museum (Addit. 7404).
IX. Manuscript in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. 2522 and 2523).
X. Manuscript in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. 1716).
The following manuscripts are listed as belonging to the second group:—
I. Salt's MS. (printed in Calcutta in 4 vols.).
II-IV. Three complete MSS. in Bibliothèque Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, Nos.
1717,1718, 1719).
V. Incomplete MS. of Vol. II. in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. Arabe, Nos 2198 to
2200).
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
109).
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.
CL.).
XXII. MS. in the Imperial Public Library at St. Petersburg (Von
Hammer's).
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.
I. Salt's manuscript (printed in Calcutta in 4 volumes).
II-IV. Three complete manuscripts in the Bibliothèque Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, Nos.
1717, 1718, 1719).
V. Incomplete manuscript of Volume II in Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. Arabe, Nos 2198 to
2200).
VI. Incomplete manuscript of Volume 4 (Suppl. Arabe, Nos. 2519 to 2521).
VII. Odd volume containing Nights 656 to 1001 (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1721, III.).
XII. Manuscript containing Nights 284 to 327 (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1720).
XIII. Manuscript in the British Museum (Oriental MSS., Nos. 1593 to 1598).
XIV. Same (Oriental MSS., Nos. 2916 to 2919).
XV. Burckhardt's manuscript in the University Library at Cambridge (B. MSS. 106 to
109).
XVI. Manuscript in the Vatican (Nos. 778 to 781).
XVII. Manuscript in the Ducal Library at Gotha.
XVIII. Odd volume in the same.
XIX. Manuscript in the Royal Library at Munich.
XX. Same, incomplete (De Sacy's).
XXI. Fragment in the Library of the Royal and Imperial Library at Vienna (No.
CL.).
XXII. Manuscript in the Imperial Public Library at St. Petersburg (Von
Hammer's).
XXIII. Manuscript in the Library of the Institute for the Study of Oriental languages
at St. Petersburg (Italinski's).
XXIV. Mr. Clarke's manuscript (cf. Nights, x., App. pp. 444-448).
XXV. Caussin de Perceval's manuscript.
XXVI. Sir W. Ouseley's manuscripts.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.
The list above doesn’t include copies or fragments in different libraries that M. Zotenberg doesn’t have enough information about, nor does it include miscellaneous collections where tales from the Nights are mixed in with others.
Portions of Habicht's MS. appear to belong to the Egyptian recension, and others to have come from further East.
Portions of Habicht's manuscript seem to belong to the Egyptian version, while others appear to have originated from further East.
There is a MS. in the Bibliothèque 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.
There is a manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, No. 1721, IV.) from Egypt that includes the first 210 Nights and is somewhat similar to Habicht's manuscript in both style and how the stories are organized. The Third Shaykh's Story (No. 1 c.) is completely different from those found in the usual manuscripts, and it doesn't match the version in the Turkish edition of the Nights, which is also quite distinct. In this manuscript (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.
Then follow notices of Anderson's manuscript, used by Scott, but which cannot now be traced in the Calcutta edition of the first 200 Nights; and of the Wortley Montague manuscript. These make up M. Zotenberg's third group of manuscripts.
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.
M. Zotenberg doesn’t discuss the original form, date, or elements of the early work, but he concludes that the complete work as we have it now only took on its current form relatively recently. However, we must remember that the details, descriptions, styles, and mannerisms of the stories in this large collection are constantly being changed by both 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.
Then comes an Appendix, where M. Zotenberg has transcribed two tales from Galland's journals, which he recorded as told by the Maronite Hanna. One of these is new to me; it’s the story of the Three Princes and the Genius Morhagian and his Daughters (included at the end of this section). The other is the familiar 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 comparison.
The rest of M. Zotenberg's book includes the Arabic text of the story of 'Ala Al-Din, or the Wonderful Lamp, along with many critical notes, most of which pertain to Galland's version. A few pages of Chavis' text are included for comparison.
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 Al-Din.
The story itself, M. Zotenberg points out, is modern, providing an accurate depiction of Egyptian customs during the rule of the last Mamlouk Sultans. Some phrases found in the French Arabic Dictionary of Ellions Bocthor and A. Caussin de Perceval seem to be taken from the tale of 'Ala Al-Din.
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.]
[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 current translator (mainly where Galland has added "etc.") to complete the meaning.]
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.
When the Sultan of Samarcand got really old, he gathered his three sons, the princes, and, seeing how much they loved and respected him, he told them they could ask for anything they wanted. They just had to say it, and he would be ready to give them whatever they wished, as long as he satisfied the eldest first, followed by the two younger ones in order. The eldest prince, named Rostam, asked the Sultan to build him a cabinet made of alternating bricks of gold and silver, topped with all sorts 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 Sultan issued his orders that very day, but before the roof of the cabinet was finished, and before any furniture had been put in, Prince Rostam asked his father for permission to sleep there. The Sultan tried to talk him out of it, saying that the roof should be completed first, but the prince was so eager that he had his bed moved in and lay down. He was reading the Koran around midnight when suddenly the floor opened, and he saw a hideous spirit named Morhagian rise from the ground. The spirit shouted, "You are a prince, but even if you were the Sultan himself, I would still take revenge for your boldness in entering this house, which is built right above the palace of my eldest daughter." As he walked around the cabinet and struck its walls, the whole cabinet turned to dust so fine that the wind carried it away, leaving no trace behind. The prince drew his sword and chased after the spirit, who fled until he reached a well and jumped in, disappearing. When the prince faced his father, the Sultan, the next morning, he was filled with embarrassment—not just for what had happened, but also for disobeying his father, who severely reproached him for ignoring his advice.
The second prince, whose name was Gaiath Eddin (Ghayáth 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 second prince, named Gaiath Eddin (Ghayáth al-Din), then asked the Sultan to have a cabinet made completely out of fish bones. The Sultan ordered it to be built, at a significant cost. Prince Gaiath Eddin was just as impatient as his brother Rostam to wait for it to be fully completed. He lay down in the cabinet despite the Sultan's warnings but made sure to keep his sword by his side. The spirit Morhagian appeared to him at midnight, gave him the same compliment, and told him that the cabinet was built over the palace of his second daughter. He turned it to dust, and Prince Gaiath Eddin chased him, sword in hand, to the well, where Morhagian escaped; and the next day, the prince showed up before his father, the Sultan [looking just as dejected as his brother].
The third prince, who was named Badialzaman (Badíu'l-Zamán = 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.
The third prince, named Badialzaman (Badíu'l-Zamán = Rarity of the Age), got permission from the Sultan to build a cabinet made entirely of rock crystal. He went to sleep there before it was completely finished, but he didn’t tell the Sultan because he wanted to see if Morhagian would treat him the same way. Morhagian arrived at midnight and claimed that the cabinet was built over the palace of his third daughter. He destroyed the cabinet, and when the prince grabbed his sword, Morhagian ran away. The prince managed to wound him three times before he reached the well, but he still managed to escape.
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. (Fattánah = The Temptress.)
Prince Badialzaman didn’t go to see the Sultan; instead, he went to his two brothers and convinced them to chase after the spirit in the well. The three of them went together, and the oldest brother was lowered into the well by a rope. After going down a certain distance, he shouted to be pulled back up. He explained his failure by saying he felt an intense heat and was nearly suffocated. The same thing happened to Prince Gaiath Eddin, who also cried out until he was drawn up. Then, Prince Badialzaman had himself lowered but told his brothers not to pull him up again, even if he cried out. They lowered him, and although he yelled, he kept going down until he reached the bottom of the well, where he untied himself from the rope and called out to his brothers that the air was very foul. At the bottom, he found an open door and moved forward between two walls. At the end of this passage, he discovered a golden door, which he opened to reveal a magnificent palace. He entered and walked through the kitchen and storerooms, which were filled with all kinds of food, and then checked out the rooms until he entered one that was lavishly furnished with sofas and divans. Curious about who lived there, he hid himself. Soon after, he saw a flock of doves land at the edge of a basin of water in the middle of the courtyard. The doves dove into the water and emerged as women, each immediately starting her assigned tasks. One went to the storeroom, another to the kitchen, and a third began sweeping, among others. They prepared a feast as if for expected guests. Some time later, Badialzaman saw another flock of ten doves of different colors surrounding an eleventh dove, which was pure white. These also settled at the basin's edge. The ten doves dove into the basin and returned as women, even more beautiful and elegantly dressed than the first group. They took the white dove and dipped her into a smaller basin filled with rose water, transforming her into a woman of extraordinary beauty. She was the eldest daughter of the spirit, and her name was Fattane. (Fattánah = 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.
Two of her attendants helped Fattane under her arms and took her to her room, followed by the others. She sat down on a small raised sofa, and her women split up, some going to the right and some to the left, and began their tasks. Prince Badialzaman had dropped his handkerchief. One of the maids saw it, picked it up, and when she glanced around, she spotted the prince. She felt startled and alerted Fattane, who sent some of her women to find out who the stranger was. The prince stepped forward and introduced himself to Fattane, who saw a young prince and welcomed him warmly. She made him sit next to her and asked what had brought him there. He shared his story from start to finish and asked where he could find the genius he wanted to take revenge on. Fattane smiled and told him not to worry about it but to just enjoy himself in the pleasant company he was in. They set the table, and she had him sit beside her while her women played various musical instruments before they settled down for the night.
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.
Fattane convinced the prince to stay with her day after day. However, on the fortieth day, he said he could wait no longer and needed to find out where Morhagian lived. The princess admitted that he was her father and told him that his strength was so immense that no one could defeat him. She added that she couldn't reveal where to find him, but her second sister would. She sent one of her attendants to guide him to her sister's palace through a secret passage and to introduce him. He was warmly welcomed by the fairy, for whom he had a letter, and he found her younger and more beautiful than Fattane. He asked her where he could find the genius, but she changed the subject, entertained him lavishly, and kept him for another forty days. On the fortieth day, she allowed him to leave, gave him a letter, and sent him to her youngest sister, who was even more beautiful. He was joyfully received there as well. She promised to show him Morhagian's home and also entertained him for forty days. On the fortieth day, she tried to talk him out of his quest, but he was adamant. She warned him that Morhagian would grab his head with one hand and his feet with the other, tearing him in two effortlessly. However, this did not deter him, and she eventually told him that Morhagian would be in a place long, tall, and spacious compared to his size. The prince went to find him, and the moment he spotted him, he charged at him with his sword drawn. Morhagian reached out, grabbed his head in one hand and his feet in the other, pulled him apart with ease, and hurled him out a window that 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.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]."
Two women sent by the youngest princess each took a piece of the prince’s body and brought them to their mistress, who pieced them together, reunited him, and brought him back to life by applying the water of life to his wounds. She then asked the prince where he came from, and it felt to him like he had just woken up from a dream; she then reminded him of everything. But this did not weaken his strong determination to kill the giant. The fairy asked him to eat, but he refused; she then pointed out that Morhagian was her father and that he could only be killed by his own sword, which the prince couldn’t get. "You can say whatever you want," replied the prince, "but there's no changing my mind, and he must die by my hand to make up for the wrongs 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 the princess made him promise seriously to marry her and taught him how he could potentially kill the genius. "You can't expect to kill him while he's awake," she said, "but when he’s sleeping, it's not completely impossible. If he’s asleep, you’ll hear him snore, but he’ll have his eyes open, which means he’s in a deep slumber. Since he takes up the whole room, step on him and grab the sword that hangs above his head, then strike him on the neck. The hit won't kill him, but as he wakes up, he’ll tell you to hit him a second time. But be careful not to do this [because if you hit him again, the wound will heal by itself, and he’ll leap up and kill you, and then 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.
Then Badialzaman went back to Morhagian's room and found him snoring so loudly that everything around him shook. The prince entered, though he was shaking with fear, and walked over to him until he managed to grab the sword and struck him a hard blow on the neck. Morhagian woke up, cursing his daughter, and shouted at the prince, whom he recognized, "Finish me off." The prince replied that what he had done was enough, and he left him there, 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]."
The prince took Morhagian's sword, thinking it would be helpful in future battles. As he was leaving, he passed by an impressive stable and saw an amazing horse. He went back to the fairy and told her what he had done, mentioning that he wanted to take the horse but was worried it would be too hard. "It's not as hard as you think," she replied. "Just cut off some hair from its tail, keep it safe, and whenever you need help, burn one or two of the hairs. The horse will come to you right away and bring you whatever you need."
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
After this, the three fairies gathered together, and the prince promised that his two brothers would marry the other two sisters. Each fairy shrank her palace down to the size of a small ball, which she handed 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 prince then took the three fairies to the bottom of the well. His father, the Sultan, had long thought he was dead and had been mourning for him. His two brothers often visited the well and happened to be there at that moment. Badialzaman got their attention with his shouts, explained what had happened, and mentioned that he had brought the three fairies with him. He asked for a rope and tied the eldest fairy to it, calling out, "Pull away, Prince Rostam, I'm sending you your good fortune." The rope was lowered again, and he tied the second fairy to it, saying, "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 third fairy, who was supposed to marry Badialzaman, pleaded with him to let himself be brought up before her because she didn't trust his brothers. However, he ignored her. Once the two princes had lifted her up high enough to see her, they started arguing over who should get her. Then the fairy shouted at Badialzaman, "Prince, didn’t I warn you about 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."435
The princes had to agree that the Sultan would resolve their dispute. When the third fairy was pulled out of the well, the three fairies tried to convince the two princes to bring up their youngest brother, but they refused and forced them to follow. While they took the youngest princess away, the other two asked to say goodbye to Prince Badialzaman. They shouted from the top of the well, "Prince, be patient until Friday, when you’ll see six bulls pass by—three red and three black. Get on one of the red ones, and it will bring you up to the surface, but be very careful not to get on a black one, or it will take you down to the Seventh Earth."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.
The princes took the three fairies away, and on Friday, three days later, the six bulls showed up. Badialzaman was about to ride a red one when a black one stopped him and forced him to get on its back. It then plunged through the ground until it landed in a large town in another world. He entered the town and stayed with an old woman, giving her a piece of gold to get him something to eat, as he was nearly starving. After he ate enough, he asked for something to drink. "You can't be from this country," the old woman said, "or you wouldn't be asking for a drink." She then brought him a sponge, explaining that she had no other water. She told him that the town got its water from a very abundant spring, which was blocked by a monster. Every Friday, they had to offer a girl to be eaten by it. Today, the princess, the Sultan's daughter, was to be given to the monster, and while it came out of its lair to eat her, enough water would flow for everyone to supply themselves until the next 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.
Badialzaman then asked the old woman to guide him to where the princess was already exposed; however, she was so frightened that he had a hard time convincing her to leave her house and show him which way to go. He left the town and went on until he spotted the princess, who signaled him from a distance not to come any closer; the closer he got, the more anxious she appeared. As soon as he was within earshot, he shouted to her not to be afraid; then he sat down beside her and fell asleep after asking her to wake him as soon as the monster showed up. Soon, a tear from the princess landed on his face, waking him up, and he saw the monster, which he defeated with the sword of Morhagian, causing water to flow abundantly. The princess thanked her rescuer and asked him to take her back to her father, the Sultan, who would show his gratitude; but he declined. She then marked his shoulder with the monster's blood without him noticing. The princess returned to the town and was led back to the palace, where she told the Sultan everything that had happened. The Sultan then ordered all the men in the town to present themselves before him and the princess under penalty of death. Badialzaman tried to hide in an inn, but he was forced to come out with the others. The princess recognized him and threw an apple at him to identify him. He was captured and brought before the Sultan, who asked what he could do to serve him. The prince hesitated, but eventually he requested the Sultan to show him the way back to the world he came from. The Sultan was furious and would have had him burned as a heretic, but the princess pleaded for his life. The Sultan then treated him like a madman and ignominiously drove him out of the town, causing him to wander aimlessly. Eventually, he came to a rocky mountain, where he saw a huge serpent emerging from its lair to prey on young Rokhs. He killed the serpent with the sword of Morhagian, and at that moment, the Rokh's father and mother arrived and asked him to name anything he wanted in return. He hesitated for a while, but finally 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 ride on his back, and to offer him some meat whenever he turned his head either left or right during 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 immediately.
The prince climbed onto the back of the Rokh, and as the Rokh stomped his foot, the earth opened up before them in every direction 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 his calf and gave it to him. When the Rokh got to the top of the well, the prince jumped to the ground, and the Rokh noticed that he was limping. When he asked what happened, the prince explained the situation. The Rokh then spat out the calf and returned it to its place, and it healed instantly, curing the prince.
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.
As the prince left the well, he met a peasant and swapped clothes with him, but he kept the sword, the three balls, and the horsehair. He went into the town, where he took a room with a tailor and kept to himself. The prince gradually gained the tailor's respect by showing him that he knew how to sew and had all the skills of a skilled tailor. Soon, preparations were underway for the wedding of Prince Rostam, and the tailor where Badialzaman was staying was ordered to make the fairy's robes. Badialzaman, who slept in the shop, took clothes from one of the balls that were similar to those already in progress and replaced them. The tailor was amazed by their fine craftsmanship and wanted to take the prince with him to receive a reward, but he declined, claiming he had just arrived in town. When the fairies saw the clothes, they thought it was a good sign.
The wedding day arrived, and they threw the jaríd436 [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,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 (jaríd) 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 them].
The wedding day came, and they held the jaríd436 [and practiced other martial exercises]. It was a big celebration, and all the shops were closed. The tailor wanted to take the prince to see the event, but the prince made up an excuse to avoid it. Instead, he went to a quieter part of town, where he lit a fire with a gun,437 and burned a bit of horsehair. The horse appeared, and he told it to bring him a complete outfit all in red, along with matching trappings, jewels, etc., and a reed (jaríd) of the same color. The prince then got on the horse and went to the racecourse, where he caused quite a stir. At the end of the games, he took the head of Prince Rostam, and the horsemen tried to catch him, but they couldn't and soon lost track of him. He returned to the shop dressed as usual before the tailor showed up, who told him what had happened, and the prince acted like he had no idea. There was a deep mourning at the court; however, three months later, new clothes were ordered for the wedding of the second prince. The fairies became even more suspicious when they saw the new clothes [that Badialzaman sent them].
On the wedding day they again assembled to throw the jaríd. 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."
On the wedding day, they gathered again to throw the jaríd. Prince Badialzaman arrived on a white horse, dressed in white and adorned with matching pearls and jewels, capturing everyone’s admiration once more. He made his way into a group of eight hundred horsemen and defeated Gaiath Eddin. They charged at him, and he let himself be taken before the Sultan, who recognized him [and made his ruling]. "A brother who has been left to die by his brothers has the right to take their lives."
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.
After this, Prince Badialzaman married the youngest princess, and the other two were married off to two princes who were related to the Sultan.
CAZOTTE'S CONTINUATION, AND THE COMPOSITE EDITIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
(Pp. 418-422).
(Pp. 418-422).
P. 422.—There is a small Dutch work, the title of which is as follows:
P. 422.—There is a small Dutch book, titled as follows:
Oostersche Vertellingen, uit de Duizend-en-cen-Nacht: Naar de Hoogduitsche Bewerking van M. Claudius,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).
Oostersche Vertellingen, from One Thousand and One Nights: Based on the High German adaptation by M. Claudius, 438 for Dutch youth published by J. J. A. Gouverneur. In Groningen, by B. Wolters, n.d. 8vo., pp. 281, colored frontispiece. (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).
A combined juvenile version, featuring a brief Introduction 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.
Derived from at least four different sources.
TRANSLATIONS OF THE PRINTED TEXTS
(Pp. 438-439).
(Pp. 438-439).
Under this heading I have to record Sir Richard and Lady Burton's own works.
Under this heading, I need to mention 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.
Lady Burton's Edition of her husband's Arabian Nights, translated literally from the Arabic, prepared for family 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:—
In getting this edition ready for publication, we've kept as much as possible from both the translation and the notes; and it hasn't been necessary to leave out more than a very few of the least important stories. 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).
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.
Also includes Terminal Essay, Index to Tales and Proper Names, Contributions to Bibliography, as it relates to Galland's manuscript 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.
Supplemental Nights to the Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, with notes on anthropology and explanations, by Richard F. Burton. Benares, printed by the Kamashastra Society for private subscribers only. Royal 8vo.
The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:
The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:
Vol. I. (1886) Translator's Foreword, 170-181bb.
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.
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."
These two volumes include the stories unique to the Breslau Text and cover the same topics as Mr. Payne's 3 volumes 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.
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.
This volume, the largest of the entire series, includes Galland's tales that aren’t found in the usual versions of the Nights.
Vol. IV. (1887) The Translator's Foreword, 203-209; App. A. Ineptiæ Bodleianae; App. B., The three untranslated tales in Mr. E. J. W. Gibb's "Forty Vezirs."
Vol. IV. (1887) The Translator's Foreword, 203-209; App. A. Bodleian Inepties; App. B., The three untranslated stories 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.
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:—
These two volumes include stories translated from the Wortley Montague manuscript, used by Jonathan Scott, and now located in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. The following stories, which aren't listed in our table, are included:—
Vol. IV. Story of the Limping Schoolmaster (between 204i and 204j).
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.)
How Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, and the 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).
Adventure of the Fruit Seller and the Concubine (between 207c and 207d).
Tale of the third Larrikin concerning himself (between 208 and 209).
Tale of the third Larrikin about 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:—
On the other hand, some stories in the MS. are left out because they are repeated or considered too insignificant 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.
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 happened to 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.
App. i. Index to the Tales and Proper Names; ii. Alphabetical Table of the Notes (Anthropological, etc.); 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).
This volume includes the original tales by Chavis and Cazotte, leaving out the four that are uncertain (see 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 Doré and other artists. London: J. & R. Maxwell.
"We also have '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 Doré 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 litt.)
"Miss Braddon has made do with translating the crude version, whose traces of French are so jarring to the national sensibility." (Sir R. F. Burton, in litt.)
IMITATIONS AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS HAVING MORE OR LESS CONNECTION WITH THE NIGHTS
(Pp. 448-453). B. English
(Pp. 448-453). B. English
(Pp. 452-453).
(Pp. 452-453).
13. History of Rhedi, the Hermit of Mount Ararat, an Oriental Tale. By—Mackenzie, 16mo., Dublin, 1781.
13. History of Rhedi, the Hermit of Mount Ararat, an Oriental Tale. By—Mackenzie, 16mo., Dublin, 1781.
I have not seen this little book.
I haven't 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.
14. Miscellanies, made up of classical excerpts and Eastern Epilogues. By William Beloe, F.S.A. Translator of Herodotus, etc. London, 1795.
Includes some genuine Oriental tales, such as a version of that of Básim the Smith.
Includes some authentic Oriental stories, like a take on the tale of Básim the Smith.
15. The Orientalist, or Letters of a Rabbi, with Notes by James Noble, Oriental Master in the Scottish Nasal and Military Academy. Edinburgh, 1831.
15. The Orientalist, or Letters of a Rabbi, with Notes by James Noble, Oriental Master at the Scottish Nasal and Military Academy. Edinburgh, 1831.
Noticed by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 377.
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.
16. The Adventures of Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid. Told 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.
17. The 1001 Days, a Companion to the Arabian Nights, with an 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 follows:
A mixed collection partly taken from "The Thousand and One Days" (cf. Nights x., pp. 499, 500). I've also come across a similar mixed collection in French with that same title. The stories in the English version are as follows:
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
Zelica.
Story of Malek and the Princess Schirine
I. Hassan Abdallah, or the Enchanted Keys Story of Hassan.
Hassan Abdallah the Basket Maker.
Hassan Abdallah the Dervish Abounader
II. Soliman Bey and the Storytellers
The First Storyteller.
The Second Storyteller.
The Third Storyteller.
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, known as the Sorrowful Vizier, and Princess
Zelica.
Story of Malek and 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.
18. The Modern Arabian Nights. By Arthur A'Beckett and Linley Sambourne. London: Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1877, small 4to., with humorous colored frontispieces and woodcuts.
Four clever satires (social and political) as follows:
Four insightful 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.
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.
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.
Belongs to Class 5 (Imitations). Consists of fictional adventures that are supposed to have happened to Harun Al-Rashid, mainly during his nighttime wanderings.
SEPARATE EDITIONS OF SINGLE OR COMPOSITE TALES
(Pp. 439-441).
(Pp. 439-441).
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.).
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).
(Pp. 441-443).
P. 441, No. 1. Les Mille et un Jours.
P. 441, No. 1. One Thousand and One Days.
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."
Mr. L. C. Smithers (in litt.) points out the English editions released in 1781 and 1809, with the latter titled "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.
P. 443, No. 5. Collection of Popular Tales from Kabylie of Djurdjura collected and translated by 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.
This collection aims to showcase the habits and ideas of the people. The stories are quite brief and likely condensed, but many of them reflect the Nights. I’d like to highlight the following stories as particularly interesting due to their connection with the Nights or with significant stories in other collections, whether Oriental or not.
Thadhillala. A brief abstract of No. 151.
Thadhillala. A short summary of No. 151.
Les deux Frères. A variant of Herodotus' Story of Rhampsinitus.
Les deux Frères. A version of Herodotus' Story of Rhampsinitus.
L'homme de bien et le méchant. A variant of No. 262; or Schiller's Fridolin.
L'homme de bien et le méchant. A variation of No. 262; or Schiller's Fridolin.
Le Corbeau et l'Enfant. Here a child is stolen and a crow left in its place.
Le Corbeau et l'Enfant. Here, a child is taken away, and a crow is left in its place.
H'ab Sliman. Here an ugly girl with foul gifts is substituted for her opposite.
H'ab Sliman. Here, an unattractive girl with bad traits is replaced by someone completely different.
Le roi et son fils. Here we find the counterpart of Schaibar (from No. 197), who, however, is a cannibal and devours everybody.
Le roi et son fils. Here we find the equivalent of Schaibar (from No. 197), who, however, is a cannibal and eats everyone.
Les Enfants et la Chauve-sourie. Resembles No. 198.
Les Enfants et la Chauve-sourie. Resembles No. 198.
Le Joueur de Flute. Resembles Grimm's story of the Jew in the Bramble-Bush.
Le Joueur de Flute. Resembles Grimm's story of the Jew in the Bramble-Bush.
Jésus-Christ et la femme infidels (=261 b.; cf. Nights, x., p. 420).
Jésus-Christ and the unfaithful woman (=261 b.; see Nights, x., p. 420).
Le Roitelet. This is the fable of the Ox and the Frog.
Le Roitelet. This is the fable of the Ox and the Frog.
L'idiot et le coucou (=No. 206a).
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 Ghúl is hidden in an egg, the egg in a pigeon, the pigeon in a camel, and the camel in the sea.
Moh'amed teen Soltan. This is one of the types of stories known to folk-lorists as the Punchkin series. The life of a Ghúl is hidden in an egg, the egg in a pigeon, the pigeon in a camel, and the camel in the sea.
Les deux Frères. A Cinderella story. The slayer of a hydra is discovered by trying on a shoe.
Les deux Frères. A Cinderella story. The slayer of a hydra is found by trying on a shoe.
Les trots Frères. Here a Ghúl 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 Ghúlah is secured by tasting her milk, a point which we find in Spitta Bey's "Comes Arabes Modernes," but not in the Nights.
Les trots Frères. Here a Ghoul is killed with a single strike from a magical dagger, which must not happen again. (Cf. Nights, vii., p. 361.) In this story, the protection of a Ghoulah is obtained by tasting her milk, a detail 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, 1850.
9. Turkish Evening Entertainment. "The Wonders of Remarkable Incidents and the Rarities of Anecdotes," by Ahmed ibn Hemdem the Kethhoda known as "Sobailee." Translated from Turkish by John F. Brown. 8vo., New York, 1850.
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.
Contains a large number of stories and anecdotes, divided into 37 chapters, many of which have titles like "Examples of intelligence and piety," "On justice and nurturing care," "Stories about the Abbaside Caliphs," etc.
"A translation of the Turkish story-book, 'Aja'ib al-ma'ásir wa ghará 'ib ennawádir,' written for Muád 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.).
"A translation of the Turkish storybook, 'Aja'ib al-ma'ásir wa ghará 'ib ennawádir,' written for Muád, the Fourth Ottoman Sultan who reigned from 1623 to 1640. A collection of fascinating stories from 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.
10. Modern Arab Tales, collected and translated by Guillaume Spitta-Bey. 8vo, Leiden 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'Avisé," which Mr. Sydney Hartland renders "Prudent," and Mr. W. A. Clouston "Discreet." The original gives "Essâtir Mehammed." (Al-Shátir Mohammed, i.e., M. the Clever.) The frequent occurrence of the number 39 (forty less one) may also be noted. Ghúls 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.
This book includes 12 orally collected stories that are so significant from a folklore perspective that I’ve provided complete summaries of all of them. They are meant to showcase the spoken Egyptian dialect and are printed in Roman characters, along with translations and a glossary. The main character in nearly all the stories is named "Mohammed l'Avisé," which Mr. Sydney Hartland translates as "Prudent," and Mr. W. A. Clouston as "Discreet." The original term is "Essâtir Mehammed." (Al-Shátir Mohammed, meaning M. the Clever.) It's also worth noting the frequent appearance of the number 39 (forty minus one). Ghúls often take on the roles we would expect Jinn to fill. The bear, which appears in two stories, is not native to Egypt. Having highlighted these general features, we can let the stories speak for themselves.
I. Histoire de Mohammed l'Avise.
I. Story of Mohammed the Wise.
Contains the essential features of Cazotte's story of the Maugraby (cf. Nights, x., p 418) with interesting additions. The "Mogrébin" 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.
Contains the essential features of Cazotte's story of the Maugraby (cf. Nights, x., p 418) with interesting additions. The "Mogrébin" gives three sons to a king and queen and designates Mohammed, the eldest and the cleverest. He gives him a book to read during his 30-day absence, but on the 29th day, he finds a girl hanging by her hair in the garden, who teaches him to read it, but advises him not to tell the magician. The magician cuts off his arm, threatening to behead him if he can't read the book within another 30 days. As soon as he leaves, Mohammed reads on his arm again with the book and escapes with the girl, and they return to their separate homes. Mohammed then transforms into a sheep for his mother to sell, but warns her not to sell the cord around his neck. The next day, he turns into a camel, forbidding his mother to sell the bridle, but she is persuaded to do so, and he falls into the magician's hands. However, he manages to escape as a crow, and the magician chases him for two days and nights in the form of a hawk. He lands in the garden of the king whose daughter he had saved from the magician and turns into a pomegranate on a tree. The magician requests and receives the pomegranate, which bursts, and the seed containing the life of Mohammed rolls under the king's throne. The magician then turns into a rooster and picks up the seeds, but while searching for the last one, it transforms into a dagger and splits him in two. The princess recognizes Mohammed as her savior, and they get married.
II. Histoire de l'Ours de Cuisine.
II. History of the Kitchen Bear.
This begins as a swan-maiden story.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'inconvénient." 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'Avisé," 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 Ghúleh 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 Ghúleh, 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 Ghúleh, 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 Jánn." 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.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 Ghúl 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 Ghúls; 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 Ghúleh 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,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.
This starts as a swan-maiden tale.439 A king takes the feather-dress of a maiden who is bathing, and she agrees to marry him only if he allows her to tear out the eyes of his forty women (39 white slaves and a princess). The king replies, "That's fine, there's no problem." The forty blinded women are locked in a room beneath the kitchen, where they give birth to children whom they cut up and share; however, the princess saves her pieces and keeps her son alive, naming him "Mohammed the Wise," and teaches him to read. He sneaks food from the kitchen, calling himself "Kitchen Bear." The queen hears about him, pretends to be sick, and demands that he go fetch the heart of the Bull of the Black Valley. He finds a Ghúleh reclining with her breasts pushed back on her shoulders, so he drinks her milk unnoticed, and she immediately 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 it. The ball rolls in front of him, and when it stops, the bull rises from the ground. Mohammed kills it, refusing to hit it again, returns the ball and dagger to the Ghúleh, and goes home. A few days later, the queen sends Mohammed to get the heart of the Bull of the Red Valley, and when he tells the Ghúleh, she asks, "Does she want to kill her second brother too?" "Are they her brothers?" Mohammed asks. She replies, "Yes, they are indeed the sons of the Sultan of the Jánn." He kills the Bull just like before. Two weeks later, the queen hides a loaf of dry bread under her mattress. The cracking sound leads people to believe she’s very ill, and she complains of terrible pain in her sides. She demands a pomegranate from the White Valley, where the pomegranates grow to weigh half a cantar.440 The Ghúleh tells him she can’t help him, but he must wait for her son Adberrahym. When he arrives, he says, "Hmm! Mom, I smell a man, bring him to me for breakfast." But his mother introduces Mohammed as his foster brother, and he instantly becomes friendly, but says the pomegranate is the queen's sister. He tells Mohammed to get an ardebb of small round loaves in a basket, along with some meat and a piece of liver. The Ghúleh then gives him a stick, saying, "Throw it down and follow it. It will knock at the garden gate, which will open, and when you enter you will see big dogs; but throw the bread right and left without looking back. Beyond a second gate, you will find Ghúls; throw bread to them right and left, and after passing them, look up and you will see a tree in a fountain surrounded by roses and jasmine. There’s a pomegranate on it. Pick it, and it will thunder, but don’t be afraid, just keep going straight and don’t look back after passing the gate." The queen waits another two weeks, then demands the flying castle from Mount Kaf, planning for her father, who lives there, to burn him. The Ghúleh tells Mohammed to dye himself black and to get 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 queen's life, another with the eyes of the forty women, a magic sword that spares nothing, and the ring that controls the castle. Mohammed then sees a beetle,441 which the slave begs him not to kill, as it represents his life. He watches it until it enters a hole, and as soon as the slave falls asleep, he kills it, and the slave dies. Then he grabs the talismans, rushes into the room where the castle's inhabitants are mourning the loss of their three children, and draws the sword, saying, "Strike right and left, and spare neither great nor small." After slaying everyone in the castle, Mohammed moves it to his father's palace, where his father orders the cannons to be fired. Mohammed then tells his father his story, forces the queen to restore the eyes of the forty women, who become more beautiful than ever, and then gives her the flask containing her life. But she drops it in her panic, and her life ends, leaving the king to put Mohammed on the throne.
III.—Histoire de la Dame des Arabes Jasmin.
III.—The Story of the Lady of the Jasmine Arabs.
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.
A king sends his advisor to get a lucky charm that Jasmine, the daughter of an Arab Sheikh, has written for him. He marries her, even though she insists on being weighed against gold, but soon drives her away for kissing a fisherman in exchange for a bottle he pulled from the river for her. She travels for two days to a town, where she stays with a merchant and discovers that whenever she opens the bottle, food, drink, and eventually ten white dancing girls come out. The girls dance, each throwing ten purses of money, and then they return to the bottle. She builds a magnificent palace, where her husband searches for her, and seeing the new palace, he orders that no lights be lit in the town that night. She lights up her palace, making the king think he has a dangerous rival. Then the advisor and the king visit her; the king asks for the bottle, and she asks for more than just a kiss, reveals who she is, shames the king, and they reconcile.
IV.—Histoire du Pécheur et de son Fils.
IV.—Story of the Fisherman and His Son.
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.
A king falls in love with a fisherman's wife, and the advisor tells the king to demand that the fisherman, under threat of death, provide a large hall with a single-piece carpet. The fisherman's wife sends him to the well of Shoubrah, where he calls out, "O such-and-such-a-one, your sister so-and-so sends her regards and asks you to send her the spindle she forgot when she was with you yesterday, because we need it to furnish a room." The fisherman nails one end of the thread from the spindle to the floor and pulls out a beautiful carpet. Then the advisor asks for a baby eight days old, who must tell a story that starts with a lie and ends with a lie. The fisherman goes back to the well with the message, "O such-and-such-a-one, your sister so-and-so greets you and asks for the child she gave birth to yesterday." However, the baby just cries until three gnats are placed on him—one on each side and one on his back. Then the boy speaks, saying, "Peace be upon you, O king!" and then he tells his deceptive story: "When I was young, I walked out of town one hot day into the fields and met a melon seller. I bought a melon for a mahboub, cut it open, and looked inside, where I saw a town with a grand hall. I lifted my feet and stepped into the melon. I wandered around, looking at the people in the town inside the melon. I walked until I exited the town into the countryside, where I saw a date tree with dates a yard long. I craved some, so I climbed the tree to pick a date and eat it. There, I found farmers sowing and harvesting on the date tree, and the threshing wheels were turning to separate the wheat. After a bit, I encountered a man beating eggs to start a poultry yard. I watched as the chicks hatched; the roosters went to one side, and the hens went to the other. I stayed with them until they grew up and married them off. Soon after, I met a donkey carrying sesame cakes, so I took a piece and ate it. When I finished, I looked up and found myself outside the melon, which then became whole again, just like before." Then the child scolds and threatens the king and the advisor, and the fisherman's wife sends her husband to take the child back to the well.
The fisherman had a son named Mohammed l'Avisé (Al-Shatír), 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.
The fisherman had a son named Mohammed l'Avisé (Al-Shatír), who was as handsome as his mother; but the king had a son who looked like a commoner. The boys went to school together, and the prince would say, "Good day, fisherman's son," and Mohammed would reply, "Good day, O son of the king, looking like a shoelace." The prince complained to his father, who ordered the schoolmaster to punish Mohammed and severely beat him. The boy went to his father and became a fisherman. On his first day, he caught a mullet and was about to fry it when it cried out that it was one of the princesses of the river, so he threw it back. Then the vizier advised the king to send Mohammed to fetch the daughter of the king of the Green Country, a seven-year journey away. Following the fish's advice, Mohammed asked the king for a golden ship; and upon reaching the Green Country, he invited the locals to check out his ship. Eventually, the princess came down, and he took her away. When she realized she was trapped, she threw her ring into the sea, which the fish caught. When the king proposed to the princess, she first asked for her ring, which Mohammed quickly gave to the king. Then she said it was customary in her country for a marriage to dig a trench from the palace to the river, fill it with wood, and set it on fire. The groom was required to walk through the trench to reach the river. The vizier suggested that Mohammed should walk through the trench first; and with the fish's advice, he covered his ears, shouted, "In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful," jumped into the trench, and came back from the river looking even more handsome than before. So the vizier told the king, "Send for your son to join us so that he may become as handsome as Mohammed." The three of them jumped into the fire and were burned to ashes, and Mohammed married the princess.
V.—Histoire de Dalâl.
V.—The History of Dalâl.
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 Ghúl 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 Ghúl 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 Ghúl when he opened his mouth to eat her.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.
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 stayed until Dalal turned twenty. At that point, it burst the jar and came out as a horned buffalo. The king ordered the hide to be hung at the palace gate and announced that anyone who could figure out what the skin was would marry his daughter, but anyone who tried and failed would lose their head. Thirty-nine suitors ended up perishing when a Ghul, disguised as a man, came by and knew the secret. He took Dalal home with him and brought her a man's head, but when she refused to eat it, he brought her a sheep. He then visited her disguised as her mother and two aunts, telling her that her husband was a Ghul; however, she wouldn't believe it until the third visit. Then he got angry, but she begged him to let her go to the bath before she was eaten. He agreed and took her to a bath, sitting at the door, but she covered herself in mud, swapped clothes with an old lupine-seller, and escaped for a while. She reached a palace but wouldn’t enter until the Prince invited her in. He then proposed to marry her, but on the wedding day, her husband tracked her down and arranged for another Ghúl, disguised as a man, to present himself to the king in the form of a sheep, pretending he had been raised in a harem and would bleat so loudly that nobody could sleep unless he was kept in the women's quarters. That night, the Ghúl took Dalal from beside the prince to the next room, but she begged for a few moments alone, during which she called upon Saint Zaynab for help. Saint Zaynab sent one of her sisters, a Jinniyah. She split the wall and asked Dalal to promise her first child. Then she gave her a piece of wood to throw into the Ghúl's mouth when he opened it to eat her. The Ghúl collapsed, and Dalal woke the prince, who killed him. When Dalal gave birth to a daughter whom she entrusted to the Jinniyah, her mother-in-law declared that Dalal was a Ghuleh and banished her to the kitchen, where she peeled onions for ten years. After this time, the Jinniyah split the wall again and brought back the young princess, introducing her to her father, who welcomed Dalal back. Meanwhile, the sultan of the Jinn called for the Jinniyah because his son was sick and could only be cured with a cup of water from the Sea of Emeralds, which only a human girl could fetch. So, the Jinniyah borrowed Dalal's daughter once more and took her to the sultan, who gave her a cup and put her on a Jinni, warning her not to wet her fingers. But a wave touched the princess's hand, turning it as green as clover. Each morning, an officer weighs the Sea of Emeralds to check for any theft, and when he found a shortage, he took a platter of glass rings and bracelets, going from palace to palace, calling out, "Glass bracelets and rings, O young ladies." When he arrived at Dalal's palace, the young princess looked out the window and insisted on going to try them on. She hesitated to show her right hand, so the spy realized she was guilty, grabbed her hand, and sunk into the ground with her. He handed her over to the servants of the King of the Sea of Emerald, who would have beaten her, but the Jinn surrounded her and protected her. The King of the Sea of Emerald then ordered her to be taken and bound in the bath, claiming he would follow in the form of a serpent and eat her. But she recognized him by his green eyes when he turned into a man, ordered her to return to her father, and later married her. He gave her a dowry of forty camel loads of emeralds and jacinths, and always visited her at night in the form of a winged serpent, coming in and out through the window.
VI.—Histoire de la fille vertueuse.
VI.—Story of the Virtuous Girl.
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 Ghúleh 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 café. 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 café, 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.
A merchant and his wife went to the Hejaz with their son, leaving their daughter at home and asking the Kazi to look after her. The Kazi fell for the girl, but when she rejected him, he hired an old woman to lure her to the bath. The girl threw soap in his eyes, pushed him down, and broke his head, then escaped to her own house with his clothes. Once the Kazi recovered enough to move around, he discovered she had bricked up the door until her family returned, so he wrote a malicious letter to her father, who sent her brother to kill her and bring him a bottle of her blood. However, her brother couldn't bring himself to kill her, even though he thought the door was just a fortress. Instead, he left her in the desert and filled the bottle with gazelle blood. When the girl woke up, she wandered to a spring and climbed a tree. A passing prince saw her, took her home, and married her. They had two sons and a daughter, but one of their friends wouldn't play with them because they didn't have a maternal uncle. The king then told the wazir to take the princess and her three children to her father’s village for a month; however, on the way, the wazir made advances toward her, and she allowed him to kill children one by one to protect her honor. Eventually, he pressured her so much that she pretended to agree, but asked to leave the tent for a moment, with a cord attached to her hand to stop her from escaping. But she untied the cord, secured it to a tree, and ran away. When they couldn't find her, the wazir suggested to the soldiers that they tell the king a Ghúleh had devoured the children and escaped into the desert. The princess changed clothes with a shepherd boy, went to a town, and got a job at a café. When the wazir went back to the king with his report, the king suggested they disguise themselves and search for the princess and her kids, and the wazir couldn't refuse. Meanwhile, the princess's brother confessed to their father that he hadn't killed her, and they set out to find her, bringing the Kazi along. They all met at the café, where she recognized them and offered to tell them a story. She shared her own, and was reunited with her family. They captured the Kazi and the wazir, and called for the old woman, then burned all three of them and scattered their ashes in the wind.
VII.—Histoire du prince qui apprit un métier.
VII.—The Story of the Prince Who Learned a Trade.
A prince named Mohammed l'Avisé 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.
A prince named Mohammed l'Avisé went to find a wife and fell in love with the daughter of a leek farmer. She wouldn’t accept him unless he learned a trade, so he learned to be a silk weaver, who taught him in five minutes. He then wove a handkerchief with the palace of his father embroidered on it. Two years later, the prince and the wazir went for a walk and came across a Maghrabi sitting at the town gate, who invited them to have coffee. However, he was actually a prisoner (or rather a murderer) who locked them behind seven doors. After three days, he cooked the wazir and intended to cook the prince, but the prince convinced him to take his handkerchief to market, where it was recognized, leading to the prince's release from danger. Two years after that, the king died, and the prince took the throne. He had a son and a daughter, but he passed away when the boy was six and the girl was eight, advising the boy not to marry until the girl was married first, to prevent his wife from mistreating her. After two years, the sister asked, "Brother, if I show you our parents’ treasures, what will you do?" He replied, "I’ll buy a slipper for you and a slipper for me, and we’ll play with them among the stones." "No," she said, "you’re still too young," and waited a year to ask again. This time he said, "I’ll buy a tambourine for you and a flute for me, and we’ll play in the street." She waited two more years, and he said, "We’ll use them to fix the water-wheels and my father’s palaces, and we’ll plant and harvest." "Now you’re grown," she replied, and she gave him the treasures, which he used to build structures in his father’s land. Soon after, an old woman convinced the young man to marry her daughter; meanwhile, she went into the mountains, collected eggs from the Oumbar bird, which makes virgins pregnant if they eat them, and gave them to the sister. The old woman informed the king of what happened, and he visited his sister to verify the situation, then left her but sent her food through a servant. When the sister's time came, four angels came down from heaven and took her daughter, returning the child to her mother to be nursed. The mother died from grief, and the angels washed and wrapped her body and wept for her; when the king learned of this, he opened the door, and the angels flew back to heaven with the child. The king ordered a tomb to be built in the palace for his sister and was so heartbroken over her death that he went on pilgrimage. After some time, as he prepared to return, the old woman opened the sister’s tomb, intending to throw her body to the dogs and replace it with a sheep carcass. The angels placed the child in the tomb and scolded the old woman; however, she captured the child and dyed her black, claiming she was a little black slave she had purchased. When the king returned, he felt sorry for her and invited her to sit with him, but she requested a candle and candlestick to hold in front of everyone. Then she told her mother’s story, addressing the candle with each word, "Gutter for kings; this is my uncle, the chief of kings." Then the candle cast shadows on her uncle’s lap. After the story ended, the king declared, "Let anyone who loves the Prophet and the Elect bring wood and fire." The people complied, and the old woman and her daughter were burned.
VIII.—Histoire du Prince Amoureux.
VIII.—Story of the Lovestruck Prince.
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.
A woman prayed to God for a daughter, even if it meant she would die from the scent of flax. When the girl turned ten, the king's son walked by, saw her at the window, and fell in love with her. An old woman discovered that he loved Sittoukan, the merchant's daughter, and promised to help him win her. She tricked her into spinning flax, and when a splinter got stuck under her nail, she fainted. The old woman convinced her parents to build a palace in the middle of the river and laid her there on a bed. The prince came, turned her over, saw the splinter, pulled it out, and she woke up. He stayed with her for forty days, then went to the door where the wazir was waiting, and they entered the garden. There, among the roses and jasmines, the prince said, "The jasmines are as white as Sittoukan, and the roses are like her cheeks; if you didn’t approve, I’d still stay with her, even if just for three days." He went back for three days, then returned to the wazir, and they saw a carob tree. The prince said, "Remember, wazir, the carob tree is like Sittoukan's eyebrows, and even if you wouldn’t let me, I’d still stay with her, even if just for three days." Three days later, they saw a fountain, and the prince remarked that it resembled Sittoukan, so he went back to her. This time, she was curious about where he went and found him watching from behind the door. He spat at her and said, "If you didn’t love men, you wouldn’t hide behind doors," then walked away. Heartbroken, she wandered into the garden and found a ring of power. She rubbed it, and the ring asked, "What are your wishes?" She requested more beauty and a palace next to the prince's. The prince fell for her and sent his mother to propose. The mother brought two pieces of royal brocade as gifts, but the young lady had a slave cut them up for dusters in her hearing. Then the mother presented her with an emerald collar worth four thousand diners, and she ordered it to be threshed and tossed to the pigeons. The old woman admitted defeat and asked Sittoukan if she wanted to get married. Sittoukan demanded that the prince be wrapped in seven shrouds and carried to the palace she specified, as if he were dead. Then she removed the shrouds one by one, and when she got to the seventh, she spat on him, saying, "If you didn’t love women, you wouldn’t be wrapped in seven shrouds." He replied, "Is it you?" and bit his finger until he bit it off, and they stayed together.
IX.—Histoire du musician ambulant et de son fils.
IX.—Story of the traveling musician and his son.
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 head443 and twisted round the two date-trees. A red date removed it. He filled his pockets, and travelled night and day for two months.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.
This traveling musician was so broke that when his wife went into labor, he had to go out and beg for their basic needs. He stumbled upon a hen sitting on the ground with an egg underneath her. He sold the egg to a man for twenty mahboubs. The hen laid an egg every day, which the man bought for the same price, and the musician became wealthy and opened a store. Once his son was grown, he built a school for him at his own expense where underprivileged children learned to read. Then the musician went on a pilgrimage, telling his wife not to let the man trick her out of the hen. Two weeks later, the man came by and convinced her to sell him the hen for a box of silver. He told her to cook it but warned her that if anyone else took a bite, he would kill them. The musician's son came in while the hen was cooking, and when his mother refused to share any, he snatched the gizzard and ate it. A slave warned him to run before the man arrived. The man chased the boy and would have killed him, but the boy lifted him with one hand and smashed him to pieces on the ground. The musician's son continued his journey and reached a town where thirty-nine defeated suitors hung at the palace gate for failing to wrestle the princess. On the first day, the boy wrestled with the princess for two hours without either winning. That night, the king ordered the doctors to drug the winner and steal his talisman. The next morning, when the boy woke up, he noticed he was weak and fled. Soon he encountered three men arguing over a flying carpet, a magical cup that produced food, and a money-making mill. He threw a stone to distract them and transported himself to Mount Kaf, where he tried out the other talismans. Then he went back to the palace, called for the princess to come down and wrestle him, and as soon as she stepped on the carpet, he whisked her away to Mount Kaf, where she promised to give back the gizzard and marry him. She ended up abandoning him, and he found two date palms, one with red dates and the other with yellow ones. When he ate a yellow date, a horn grew from his head and wrapped around the two date palms. A red date removed it. He filled his pockets and traveled night and day for two months. He sold dates out of season, and the princess bought sixteen yellow ones and ate them all; this caused eight horns to grow from her head, four on each side. They couldn't be cut off, and the king offered his daughter to anyone who could get rid of them. When the musician's son married the princess and became the vizier, he asked her, "Where is my carpet, etc." She replied, "Is that you?" "Yes," he said, "Who's trick was better, mine or yours?" She admitted he had won, and they lived happily together.
X.—Histoire du rossignol chanteur.
X.—Story of the singing nightingale.
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 Ghúleh 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'Avisé" 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.
Three brothers built a palace for their mother and sister after their father's death. The sister was in love with someone the brothers didn’t approve of. An old woman advised her to send her brothers to catch the singing nightingale. The two oldest brothers couldn't wait until the bird fell asleep, and while they were trying to close the cage, the nightingale flung sand over them with its claws, sending them down to the seventh level of the earth. The beads and the ring were signs of their deaths back home; however, the youngest brother, who left a rose with his mother to wilt if he died, managed to capture the bird and received sand from under the cage. When he scattered it on the ground, over a thousand men rose up, including some Black men and Turks. The brothers weren’t among them, so the youngest brother scattered white sand, and 500 more people appeared, including his brothers. Later, the oldest brother was resting on his ship when a man from Maghreb told him to clean his turban; his mother interpreted that as meaning his sister had acted shamefully and that he should kill her. He refused and ran away with her to the desert. Hearing voices, he entered a cave where thirty-nine robbers were dividing their loot, and he managed to grab a share before returning it when noticed; but as he was caught, he pretended to be one of them, allied himself with them, and waited for the right moment to attack and kill them. Afterward, he brought his sister two young lions. She found a wounded Black man in the cave, nursed him back to health, and after having two children with him, plotted against her brother. She faked an illness and sent him to look for the grapes of Paradise. He met a Ghúleh who gave him a ball to guide him to Paradise, and he returned safely. His sister then sent him to get the Water of Life, but the two young lions followed him and he couldn’t send them back. After a year of travel, he reached the Sea of the Water of Life, and while resting under a tree, he heard two pigeons discussing the king's daughter, who was ill, and that any doctor who failed to cure her was executed, and she could only be healed by the Water of Life. "Mohammed l'Avisé" 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 of the bottles and set out to visit his family. At his sister’s urging, the Black man killed Mohammed, chopped him up, and stuffed the remains into a sack, which they loaded on a donkey. Then the lions dragged the donkey to Mohammed’s wife, who brought him back to life using the water he had left with her. Mohammed then locked up the lions, disguised himself as a Black man, and went to see his sister, bringing along some rings and mastic. His sister recognized his eyes, and while she and the Black man argued, Mohammed killed the Black man and his three children, burying his sister alive. He then returned to his wife, told her that his relatives were dead, and asked for a hundred camels; it took them a week to transport the treasures of the robbers.
XI .—Histoire d' Arab-Zandyq.
XI .—Story of Arab-Zandyq.
This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 411, and need not be repeated here.
This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 411, and doesn't need to be repeated here.
XII.—Histoire du prince et de son cheval.
XII.—The story of the prince and his horse.
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'Avisé" 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 virgin445 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.
A prince and a foal were born at the same time, and some time later, both the mother and the mare died. The king remarried, and the new queen had an affair with a Jew. They plotted to poison the prince, but his horse cried and warned him. Then the queen pretended to be sick and asked for the horse's heart, but the prince fled to another kingdom, buying clothes from a poor man and packing his own clothes onto his horse. After that, he parted ways with the horse, who gave him a hair and a flint, telling him to light the hair whenever he needed him. The prince then went to a town and got a job as an under-gardener for the king. He was assigned to drive the ox that turned the water-wheel, but one day he called his horse, put on his own clothes, and galloped around the garden, where the youngest princess saw "Mohammed l'Avisé" from the window and fell in love with him. He then returned to the water-wheel, and when the head-gardener saw the garden in disarray, he was ready to punish him; however, the princess intervened and ordered the prince to receive a chicken and a loaf of bread every day. The princess then convinced her mother and sisters that it was time to get married, so the king ordered everyone to pass under the window of the seven princesses, each of whom threw down a handkerchief for the man of her choice. But the youngest wouldn't look at anyone until they finally got the gardener's boy, which made the king angry, and he locked them in a room. The king became ill with frustration, and the doctors ordered him to drink bear's milk from the hide of a virgin bear. The king’s six sons-in-law were sent to find it, and Mohammed also set out riding a lame mare while the people mocked him. Soon after, he called his own horse and instructed him to set up a camp so vast that neither the beginning nor the end could be seen, and only containing bears. When the six sons-in-law passed by, they dismounted and asked the attendants for what they needed, but they directed them to their king. The king offered them what they asked for but branded a ring and a circle on the back of each son-in-law. However, he only gave them milk and hide from old she-bears, while he took the milk from a virgin bear that had just given birth for the first time, slaughtered it, filled the skin with the milk, and then got back on his lame mare, saying to the horse, "God reward you." He went back to town and gave the milk to his wife, who took it to her mother. Then the six sons-in-law brought their milk to the doctors, but when they examined it, they said, "This is the milk of an old she-bear and is worthless." They then gave the king the other milk and cured him, but he was very annoyed to find out who had brought it. Shortly afterward, a war broke out, and the king set up his camp outside the town facing the enemy. Mohammed set out again on his lame mare, and the people shouted after him, "Go back, sir, for the soldiers have been defeated." Then he called for his horse, put on his own clothes, and said to the horse, "Let your hair shoot forth fire." He then came before the king, declaring, "I support you and your six sons-in-law." He charged into battle, striking with his sword while his horse shot forth fire. They defeated a third of the enemy, then vanished, while the king lamented, "Ah, if only my six sons-in-law had done this!" After his efforts, Mohammed was tired and went home to sleep. The next day, the same scenario unfolded, but the king put his own ring on his finger. On the third day, he defeated the remaining third of his enemies, but he got wounded in the arm, and the king bandaged it with his own handkerchief before he left.
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.
The king gathered the horses and the loot and returned to town, frustrated that his sons-in-law hadn't done anything. Then the youngest princess asked her mother to call for her father to see the ring and the handkerchief. When the king saw them, he fell down and kissed Mohammed's feet, who had just woken up, looking confused. When asked about his story, he replied, "I'm a prince just like you, and your six sons-in-law are mamluks under my father. I defeated them, and they fled. Out of fear of my father, I set out to find them. I came here and realized they were your sons-in-law, but I made them keep quiet. As for your daughter, she saw me in the garden and recognized my true status; here she is, O king; she is still a virgin." Then they celebrated the wedding with much fanfare, and Mohammed stayed with his father-in-law for a while until he wanted to go back to his own country. When he got there, he found that his father had died, so he took the throne and ordered his mother-in-law and the Jew to be burned.
Carlo de Landberg, Básim le Forgeron et Haron Er-Rachid, 8vo., Leyden, 1888.
Carlo de Landberg, Básim the Blacksmith and 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.
Text and translation of a modern Arabic story about an unfortunate blacksmith and hashish-addict that Harun meets during one of his usual night walks. Harun plays a series of practical jokes on him, getting him fired from his job every day, while sharing dinner with him every night. Eventually, he beats him and sends him to prison, where a female jinn takes pity on him and gives him unlimited power, which he enjoys for a week before he dies, leaving Harun deeply saddened.
ADDITIONAL NOTE TO SUPPL. VOL. V.
(Pp. 318-320).
(Pp. 318-320).
Compare Boccaccio's story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 11).
Compare Boccaccio's story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 11).
THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK AND 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.]
["I've been thinking that it might be a good idea to create a set of notes... for the 'Origin,' which currently has none, focusing specifically on the mistakes made by my reviewers. I realize that if a reviewer can make a mistake, a typical reader might too. Also, it will show the reader that we shouldn't rely entirely on reviewers."—DARWIN'S LIFE. ii. 349.]
TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON.
The Thousand Nights and a Night.
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.
Across the sky, the snow drifts and piles
On windowsills and balconies, its feathery touch
Skimming over the landscape, and the falling sleet
Darkens the earth, stealing the sky's brightness:
Our Northern Isle is wrapped in a mourning shroud
And fierce winds clash against her.
Her world feels lifeless, when suddenly, we see
Glimpses of light from the morning land greeting us.
A glow of golden light and shimmering pearls—
Views of a fairyland, where Beauty rules
And Courage celebrates; a clear moon, blazing sun,
The hills, the palm trees; cities; crowds; a whirlwind
Of life in tents and grand buildings and temples:
The light that pours from A THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE.Isabel Burton,
Isabel Burton,
Tangier, Marocco: Feb. 19, 1886.
Tangier, Morocco: Feb. 19, 1886.
THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK AND ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED.
Preliminary.
Initial.
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.
I would like to share what could be called the "biography" of a book that I believe the author has every reason to be proud of. This work, which took him about thirty years to complete—almost half the lifespan of an average person and a whole generation—has resulted in these sixteen volumes. A project of this scale and significance deserves, in my opinion, some attention to the main features that define its journey, particularly its introduction to the Court (Public Opinion) and its reception by the high-ranking officials, critics, reviewers, and commentators.
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.
And there’s one more thing to consider. Ignoring the accusations and criticisms made by certain so-called literary experts would be like letting a judgment go uncontested. No matter how unpopular or disliked it may be to critique criticism, and no matter how true the saying "A controversy in the Press with the Press is like a fly fighting a spider" is, I believe it’s the author's responsibility, in front of the public, to respond if he has any satisfactory and interesting replies. By doing so, he can clear his name and prove his innocence unless he wants to risk being charged with defiance and contempt of court.
It is not only an instinct of human nature expressed by nemo me impurè 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 représailles 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 clum; and the heathenish and old- Adamical sentiment of the clansman anent Roderick Dhu—
It’s not just a basic human instinct, as the saying “nemo me impune lacessit” suggests, that drives one to respond in front of onlookers when faced with an enemy at the gate; it’s also a responsibility that honor and a respect for how others view us compel the author to address. A person who is too weak to quietly endure slander and falsehoods from a know-nothing or someone of limited knowledge, hiding behind the banner of "King We," is simply betraying himself, as the Arabs say, and is disrespectful by allowing aggressive and harmful behavior to go unchecked. The reading public deserves to hear the other side before issuing their verdict on a matter from which there is no appeal. Choosing to overlook and not retaliate against baseless and slanderous criticism may lead one to the idealistic view of the transcendental person who forgives (for selfish reasons) those who wrong him. However, the noble principle that tells us to love our enemies and be kind to those who mistreat us is dangerously close to being absurd; in any case, it is a pointless and impractical guideline that most people ignore. It stands in stark contrast to the common sense of the pagan—"Fiat Justitia, ruat cœlum"; and the ancient, primal sentiment of the clansman regarding Roderick Dhu—
"Who rights his wrong where it was given
If it were in the court of Heaven,"
"Who corrects his wrongdoing where it happened If it were in the court of Heaven,"
L. of the Lake, v. 6.
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.
—commends itself much more to what religious leaders like to refer to as "fallen human nature," which is the natural person.
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.
And before I step over the threshold, I want to take a moment to express my sincere gratitude and heartfelt thanks to the press in general, which has welcomed my studies on the East and my contributions to Oriental knowledge in such a friendly and understanding manner. They have appreciated my efforts far beyond what I expected and have given strong and generous support to present them to the English-speaking world in the best possible light. It's not shameful to have a few "black sheep" among a flock of thousands; these unique ones are meant for those who prefer to bring light to the dark and right the wrong. It is solely with these exceptional cases that my comments and responses will engage, and that’s why I’ve given them a place of honor. The various excerpts from reviews, which are favorable, appreciative, and complimentary, are included as the "Opinions of the Press" at the end of this volume, and once again, I want to express my genuine gratitude for the kind words from the media and for its wise ability to see the good in what seems bad.
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 Tinbukhtú 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-scène 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
The unique and romantic circumstances that led to my extensive work have been explained in the Foreword (vol. i. pp. vii-x). I should add that during a lengthy forced stop of about two months at East African Zayla and during a tough and perilous trek across the dangerous Somali region towards Harar-Gay, then the Tinbukhtú of Eastern Africa, The Nights provided me with incredible support. The locals listened with the same captivated attention as young children do to the enchanting stories of the lovely Queen and the rhythmic interjections of her story-sister. They eagerly anticipated the evening storytelling as the highlight and reward for their hard day’s work. Without a doubt, the stunning landscape of Somali-land created an ideal backdrop for The Nights, making even the least believable details seem more credible. Mostly barren and grim, lacking the charms that typically enhance the beauty of the earth—like grassy hills, wooded valleys, park-like plains, calm lakes, and shimmering streams—it occasionally revealed its own beauty, borrowing from the sky, bringing reflections of magical splendor and intriguing shadows unique to tropical climates. No pink was brighter than the innocent blush and dewy glow of dawn against the harsh glare of midday sun, when all the colors seemed scorched away by intense heat. No brilliance could compare to the interplay of light and shadow, the shifting rainbows, and the fiery pinks, purples, and reds of the evening sunset—the spectacular end of the day. No hue could be more gentle and soothing than the soft, pearly grey slowly creeping over the crimson sea surrounding the Sun-King, shrinking it into a small lake of fire before finally fading into a shimmering haze. No gloom felt as eerie as the murky shadows that hung like curtains from the violet skies during those sleepless nights of travel, when the world appeared filled with strange specters and monsters, both in motion and still. No greenery could be more exquisite than the earth's delicate touch of greenery, the blend of sky-blue and yellow; no gold more radiant than the sands glimmering in the sunlight; no blue deeper and clearer than the middle distance; no neutral tones more refined, pure, delicate, and sight-soothing than the French grey that dresses the clear horizon; no landscape variations more striking than the contrasts of blazing sunlight, snowy moonlight, and twinkling starlight, all flowing through the translucent air. No contrast was more impressive than that between the harsh, iron upland, where hardly any grass can grow, and the Wady, with its twin lanes of vibrant green tamarisks, alternately hedging a raging rain torrent and a ribbon of the purest sand, or the majestic purple-grey shadow rising in the east to confront the mysterious Zodiacal Light—a white pyramid with its base in Amenti—home of resting Osiris—with its peak touching the zenith. And often, this "after-glow" was followed by a blush of "celestial rosy-red" enveloping the entire horizon, where the color was most intense, fading into the upper blues where the stars shone the brightest. How often in Somali land I found myself repeating to myself
—Contente-vous, mes yeux,
Jamais vous ne verrez chose plus belle;
—Just be content, my eyes,
You will never see anything more beautiful;and the picture still haunts me.
and the image 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
And now, setting aside these and similar fond memories, and skipping over the previously shared story (Foreword, vol. i. pp. viii., ix.) of when and where the work started, along with the disappointment from the passing of my friend and collaborator, Steinhaeuser, regarding the copying process that began in 1879 and the priority given to the "Villon Edition," I will move straight to what can be called
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.
During the fall of '82, after I got back from the Gold Coast (with barely any share of the precious metal that my friend Cameron and I set out to find and ended up failing to locate), my work began in earnest by organizing the old translation scraps and compiling a huge mix of notes. I was lucky enough to find a skilled copyist in uneducated Trieste who could decipher messy handwriting and was good at reproducing humorous and clever words without fully understanding their meaning. At first, my efforts were pretty inconsistent, and I spent most of that time bedridden between October '83 and June '84. However, visits to Marienbad and Styrian Sauerbrunn (bed Rohitsch) helped me get back on track, and upon returning to Trieste (Sept. 4, '84), we focused on preparing for publication, with the first two volumes nearly ready to 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 middle.
And here we faced a serious question: How many copies would be enough for my audience? A well-known professor who had published about 160,000 texts, with prices ranging from 6 pence to 50 guineas, kindly advised me to print 150 to 250 copies. A prominent printer-publisher suggested around 500. Others recommended 750 but warned about potential "wreckage," high risk, and significant costs. Only one friend—who wasn't in business—encouraged an edition of 2,000 to 3,000, predicting it would be well-received. After careful consideration, I decided on 1,000 as a reasonable compromise.
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.
We then made a long list of friends, acquaintances, and strangers who might be interested in the new idea, and had the following three papers lithographed and printed in Trieste.
No. I.
No, I won’t.
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.
Captain Burton, having no agent or publisher for his upcoming ARABIAN NIGHTS, asks that all subscribers please send their names and addresses directly to him (Captain Burton, Trieste, Austria), so they can be recorded in a book kept for this 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.
There will be 10 volumes available at a guinea each, to be paid for upon delivery. Subscribers can expect the first three volumes to be printed in March. Captain Burton promises to provide copies to all subscribers who contact him, and he also commits to not releasing, or allowing the release of, a cheaper edition. One thousand copies will be printed, the entire manuscript will be ready before it goes to press in February, and the ten volumes will be released within eighteen months.
This was presently followed by
This was soon followed by
No. II.
No. 2.
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 student of Arabic who reads "THE NIGHTS" with this version will not only be able to participate in any conversation, read popular books and newspapers, and write letters to friends, but will also discover a collection of Arabian customs, beliefs, and practices in the notes that aren’t covered in mainstream works.
The 10 volumes will be handsomely bound in black and gold.
The 10 volumes will be stylishly bound in black and gold.
No subscriptions will be until the work is done, and then at Coutts' Bank, Strand London.
No subscriptions will be accepted until the work is finished, and then at Coutts' Bank, Strand London.
Subscribers who apply directly are preferred.
Subscribers who apply directly are given preference.
The author will pay carriage of volumes all over the United Kingdom. A London address is requested.
The author will cover the shipping costs for books throughout the United Kingdom. A London address is preferred.
And, lastly, after some delay, came the subjoined cutting from the Daily Tribune, New York.
And finally, after a bit of a wait, here’s the following excerpt from the Daily Tribune, New York.
No. III.
No. 3.
"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.'
"It has already been announced that the first installment of Captain Burton's new translation of the Arabian Nights is expected this autumn. I'm grateful to a friend of his for some details that I don't think have been made public yet. There's still a need for a translation of the Arabian Nights. Almost all the popular editions, of which there are hundreds, are just imperfect renderings of Professor Galland's French version, which itself is an abridgment of the original and turns a very valuable ethnographical work into just a collection of fairy tales. Furthermore, these English translations are full of Gallicisms, and their style is a painful contrast to the French of the seventeenth century. A few years ago, a Mr. Torrens attempted a complete translation from the original, but his work only produced a single volume containing fifty tales out of the 1,001. Then, Mr. Lane came along in 1839, whose success was moderate. In his three large and beautifully illustrated volumes (in the 1839 edition), he provided no more than half of the tales. He used the Cairo Arabic edition, which is also an abridgment, and took all sorts of liberties with the text, translating verse into prose and cutting out everything that wasn't '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.
"Lastly, there’s Mr. John Payne’s outstanding translation, which he has worked on for seven years and has just completed. Mr. Payne committed to printing no more than 500 copies, and his nine volumes, printed but not published, are supposedly for the Villon Society. They’re impossible to find except at a price that’s too high for most people."
"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.
"Captain Burton started his work on this incredible piece of Oriental literature in 1852, in Aden, with some assistance from his friend Dr. Steinhaeuser of the Bombay Army. He has continued to work on it whenever he could, balancing it with other literary projects, official duties, and his extensive travels in remote regions. The text and its themes present many challenges, and he has focused especially on these difficulties. His aim is to recreate the book in a format that is as authentically Arabian as possible, maintaining the strict separation of the nights and adhering (though arguably debatable) to the long, uninterrupted sentences favored by the author, while also mimicking the rhythmic prose characteristic of Arabic. The impact in English remains to be seen, but there’s no doubt about the value of Captain Burton's approach as a literary experiment, as well as its significant interest for those who appreciate Oriental ways of thinking and language. He won't shy away from any parts that may not align with contemporary tastes, though Captain Burton believes these will generally be no more objectionable than some found in Shakespeare and his contemporaries. It should also be clear that the book is meant for men only and for scholarly study—not for women or children, nor for coffee tables or dentist's waiting rooms. It will be printed through 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."
"Few Oriental scholars in England can truly capture the essence of this depiction of the medieval Arab. Captain Burton is probably the only one who combines the necessary language skills with a diverse range of practical experiences in Eastern life, which is often essential for understanding complex passages or providing accurate commentary. His goal is to ensure that the book, in its English form, is not only completely literal in text but also captures the Oriental tone and color. He knows the stories almost by heart and would often entertain the Bedouin tribes with laughter around the campfire during the long summer nights by reciting them. Sheiks, who usually maintained an unusually solemn demeanor, were often seen rolling on the ground in fits of uncontrollable laughter. Burckhardt also used to read the stories aloud, but the Arabs would take the book from him because his pronunciation was so poor. Captain Burton is said to have an Arab accent that is almost indistinguishable from that of a native speaker. When he speaks English here in England, he is one of the most engaging conversationalists you could encounter. I remember a particular dinner party many years ago where the great traveler kept us all enthralled until long past dawn, recounting the most extraordinary adventures with striking fidelity to facts. However, that’s a side note. I should also mention that Captain Burton has the names of many subscribers and would likely welcome more, which can probably be sent to him in Trieste. His current aim is to be ready to publish by next February and release all of the volumes in 1885."
(Signed) G. W. S.
(Signed) G. W. S.
Concerning this "American" communication and its author I shall have more to say in a future page.
Concerning this "American" communication and its author, I will have more to say on a later 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 £200 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."
Around 24,000 to 30,000 circulars were sent out at a cost of £126, and they received about 800 positive responses. After I returned to England in May '85, that number increased to 1,500 and eventually to 2,000, just as my non-professional friend had predicted. Meanwhile, an event occurred that demonstrated how inexperienced appeals to the public can go awry. A package containing 1,100 circulars was sent to my agent for mailing in London, and my secretary unfortunately sealed the envelopes incorrectly. As a result, I could have faced penalties from the Post Office, potentially a fine of £200. However, when the situation was reported, with proper explanations, to the late Henry Fawcett, the Postmaster-General—truly an exceptional man—he had the fairness and kindness to see the mistake as mere ignorance, and I received a warning "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 communiqué; to The Academy.
I quickly made sure to announce my mistake in the newspapers, sharing my agent's name and offering to refund the money. However, some of the sealed and unpaid envelopes had been sent out too early, leading to an unexpected and amusing outburst of anger from places I didn't anticipate. To help curb the wave of criticism, I sent the following message to The Academy.
"TUPPENCE AS A TOUCHSTONE."
"Tuppence as a benchmark."
Trieste, Nov. 2, 85.
Trieste, Nov. 2, 1885.
"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'."
"Could you please make room for a few lines about a personal issue that’s causing me a lot of trouble? A box of flyers about my upcoming version of the Arabian Nights was sent to London with instructions to stamp and mail the contents. Unfortunately, the envelopes were accidentally sealed down, so the package was held at Customs and then sent to the Post Office where it was discovered to contain flyers rather than letters, and several of these were sent on without postage. The result was that one blunt person wrote on the flyer and returned it, saying—When you send your junk again, put postage stamps on it. A second person is politely demanding, Please send four stamps to the Adjutant of the —th Regiment. The 'Chaplain of the Forces at ——,' who is both sarcastic and harsh, suggests to Captain Burton that if he thinks his book is worth selling, he should put postage on future ads. A fourth individual, who I regret to say identifies himself as Lieutenant Colonel, offers me advice about pre-payment scrawled in an orderly’s handwriting on a torn envelope (utterly insulting!); he includes the 2d. stamp and sends the letter under official cover 'On Her Majesty’s Service.' The idea of a French or Austrian Colonel stooping so low! Have these men lost all sense of honor, all self-respect (and respect for others) just because they’re no longer held accountable for their rudeness? I never expected 'Tuppence' to be such an astute test for distinguishing between what’s valuable and what’s worthless; nor can I deeply regret that circumstance, not my fault, has put in my hands Ithuriel's spear in the form of that 'Tuppence'."
I am, Sir, etc.
I am, Sir, etc.
RICHARD F. BURTON.
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 £5. 5s., or half the price. The impudent and snobbish subscriber who will address his victim as follows:—
The process of compiling my list provided a detailed and diverse look at different personalities; and my broad experience with both subscribers and non-subscribers soon allowed me to categorize them into these eight types. The friendly subscriber who takes ten copies (more or less) sending their payment. The gentleman subscriber who confidently pays upfront. The cautious subscriber who pays £5. 5s., or half the price. The rude and snobbish subscriber who will address his target as follows:—
Sir,
Dude,
Send me the first volume of your Arabian Nights and if I like it I will
perhaps take more.
Yours obediently,
X.Y.Z.
Send me the first volume of your Arabian Nights, and if I like it, I might get more.
Yours obediently,
X.Y.Z.And Cynophron will probably receive for all reply:—
And Cynophron will probably respond with:—
Sir,
Sir,
Send me ten guineas and take one or ten volumes as you please.
Yours obediently, etc.
Send me ten guineas and take either one or ten volumes, whichever you prefer.
Yours faithfully, 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.
No. vi is the annoying and difficult subscriber who causes more hassle than they're worth, and who takes a harmful pride in avoiding payment until absolutely necessary. The professional subscriber fights hard for the best terms and believes it's their right to pay in small amounts. Lastly, there's the dishonest subscriber who doesn’t pay at all. However, I must acknowledge that type No. viii is rare: out of one thousand, there were only about twenty.
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.
In mid-June '85, I returned to London and immediately started preparing to publish the book. I found the publisher to be quite disappointing—except for my old friend, Mr. Van Voorst, once of Paternoster Row. So, like Professor Arber, I decided to go without him, fully aware of the risks involved, which would have put me at odds with most of the industry and their "hands," the critics, especially for a work intended for general readers. I tried hard to find a literary friend or friends who were well-known, like those who helped with the Villon version, but they all shied away from the responsibility and the anticipated backlash, which, in the end, never happened.
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 discretion."
Under these circumstances, "The Printing Times," a professional magazine published by Messieurs Wymans, was not shy (August 25, '85) about being critical regarding my plan. "We've always heard the name of Mr.—— associated with the publication of this significant work, which is now noticeably missing, and it seems that no other prominent publishing house is connected to its production" (The Printer's Devil is, I assume, responsible for the English!). The writer then unfriendly warns me that if the printers forget to include their imprint, they could face legal penalties; that the work isn't safe for a literal translation; and finally, that although it's printed through private subscriptions, "It might very well be considered harmful to public morals, putting both the author and his printers at risk." The unfortunate article wraps up with, "We're waiting for the release of the first volume since a lot will depend on the spirit(!) in which the translation has been done; surely the original text isn't fit for general circulation (known!) unless it's edited with the greatest care and discretion."
To this production so manifestly inspired by our old friend £s. d., I replied in The Aademy (August 7, '85), the gist of the few lines being as follows:—
To this production clearly influenced by our old friend £s. d., I responded in The Academy (August 7, '85), with the essence of my 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.
In response to many questions from friends and others, may I repeat through your columns that my translation of the "Arabian Nights" will be strictly limited to 1,000 copies, each sent to selected subscribers, and to reaffirm my previous promise that no cheaper edition will be printed? Some correspondents have expressed frustration that I haven't mentioned the price, but I have repeatedly said that there are ten volumes, priced at one guinea each—my goal in making it so costly is to keep it away from the general public. I've also received inquiries about who my publisher is. I am my own publisher, starting (Inshallah!) a golden age for authors. Joking aside, the book has no publisher. It is printed by me for the benefit of Orientalists and Anthropologists, and nothing would be more distasteful to me than the idea of a book like this being published or handed over to 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.
The first volume, titled "Benares: 1885: Printed by the Kamashastra Society for Private Subscribers only," didn't come out until September 12, '85. It was originally promised for March but got delayed again due to another unavoidable hold-up in Trieste. However, my subscribers had no more reason to complain; ten volumes in sixteen months should satisfy even the most demanding.
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.
No. i. volume was sent out with a note sincerely asking that the book not be sold in public places or allowed to get into the hands of anyone except curious students of Muslim customs. Still, the arrival of the first-born brought quite a bit of stress and anxiety for the parent and everyone involved in the delivery. Would the "little stranger," dressed in black and gold—the colors of the Abbasid Caliphs—with its brick-red nightcap typical of religious attire, be warmly received, or would it be seen as a failure, a monstrosity? The reader can easily understand how much the following article from the Standard (September 12), often credited to the well-known writer Mr. Alfred Austin, was a relief to an author in such a difficult situation. I must quote it in full because it captures so perfectly everything I could wish for in a review. And that same publication has always provided me with the kindest support; its most recent review was as respectful and appreciative as the first.
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.
The first volume of Captain Burton's long-awaited edition of the "Arabian Nights" was released yesterday for those who can take advantage of the wealth of knowledge packed into this monumental work by the famous Eastern traveler. The book is available only for subscribers and is priced in a way that is unlikely to be affordable for anyone except the scholars and students it is designed for. However, even though the Benares "Kamashastra Society" makes it clear that the "Thousand Nights and a Night" is not "published" in the traditional sense, the pages read by countless purchasers can rightfully be considered the property of the world. In any case, the day when a life’s experiences were captured in this new translation of the "Alf Laylah wa Laylah" signifies an important moment in the history of Eastern research. The world has seen many versions of these stories. For at least a century and a half, they have delighted audiences young and old, from Shahrazade and Dunyazade to the Fisherman and the Jinn, as well as tales from the Tailor, the Kalendar, the Nazarene broker, and the Hunchback... not to mention Aladdin, Ali Baba, Sinbad the Sailor, and Camaralzaman and Badoura—who feel like the oldest of friends. Yet many who are familiar with the standard shortened versions prepared for children and social gatherings have little understanding of the original tales. Galland's abridgment was merely a shadow of the Arabic text. Even the editions by Lane, Habicht, Torrens, and Von Hammer only imperfectly represent the vast body of Eastern folklore that Captain Burton has set out to translate into English, without concern for the sensitivities of those who haven't purchased the book, and thus are not involved in what is essentially the affair of him and his subscribers. Almost two centuries have passed since Antoine Galland first translated some of the tales into French, facing backlash as a forger for his efforts. There was never a greater sensation than when he published his translations. For weeks, he was harassed by crowds who wouldn’t let him rest until the trembling Professor recited one of the Arab stories to them from below his window. Yet the interest in these stories hasn’t diminished at all. Thousands of copies are printed every year, and anyone who has gathered around a professional storyteller in the East must have noticed how often they draw from this timeless collection. The camel-driver listens as eagerly as his ancestors did centuries ago. The Badawi laughs despite himself, though moments later he exclaims a shocked "Astaghfaru'llah" for enjoying the light mention of the sex never referred to among the Nobility of the Desert. Or if the traveler is a scholar and a gentleman, he pulls out his book for the entertainment of those seated around the campfire, just as Captain Burton did many times during his travels in the East.
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.
To Captain Burton, putting together these volumes must have been a labor of love. He started them with his friend Steinhaeuser shortly after returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca over thirty years ago, and he has been working on them ever since. In the swampy jungles of West Africa, he’s translated a story or two into English, or versified a poem while dealing with the monotony of official life in the damp climate of Brazil. From Sind to Trieste, the manuscript has always been part of his luggage, and even though he’s written many more volumes over the years, the "Thousand Nights and a Night" have never been forgotten. Now, as he approaches the end of his work, it feels like we’ve never really known what the beautiful Shahrazad told the King who doubted the loyalty of women. Captain Burton seems like the only sober person among drunkards. We still have the familiar characters, but they appear in such new outfits that one has to read the lines again and again before recognizing them completely. However, Tajal-Mulook will surely be as chivalrous as ever when his turn comes, as the Barber is chatty as always, and the three Shaykhs recount their adventures with the Jinns, gazelles, and mules just as vividly as they have for a thousand years or more. King Yoonan and Sage Dooban are here, along with King Sindibad and his falcon, the young Prince of the Black Islands, the envious Weezer and the Ghoolah, and the tales of the Porter and the Ladies of Baghdad retain all their charm in this new, quite simple version. Captain Burton's work is not meant for children, and while he claims not to have included any intentional indecorum, he warns readers that it would be a violation of good faith to let a work meant for students be accessed by kids. From the first edition to almost the last, the drawing-room has been the exclusive audience. Even Mr. Payne, despite his otherwise faithful version printed for the Villon Society, kept Mrs. Grundy in mind. Additionally, no prior editor—not even Lane—had a fraction of Captain Burton's knowledge of the customs and manners of the Muslim East. So quite often, they made ridiculous errors, and none provided the kind of explanatory notes that significantly enhance this edition of "Alf Laylah wa Laylah." Some of these notes are strikingly realistic, and often, travelers who thought they knew the East cringe at how plainly the Wazir's daughter tells her stories to Shahryar, King of the Banu Sasan. The language is more often coarse than loose and feels more like the straightforward way high and low alike speak in family settings from Tangier to Malaysia, rather than being crude or suggestive. The Oriental doesn’t see it as improper to speak openly about anything created by Allah or discussed in the Koran. Yet, in his conversations and folk tales, there is no subtle corruption or covert indecency—none of the twisted implications and false sentiment that saturate many works of the modern romantic genre.
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.
It’s questionable whether there’s anything in these unique stories that is as objectionable as many chapters in Rabelais and Boccaccio. Also, the most outdated passages that Captain Burton refuses to “veil in the decent obscurity of a learned language” don’t give much reason for fans of Shakespeare, Greene, Nash, Wycherley, Swift, or Sterne to feel ashamed. Their coarse content reflected the times. The crude language didn’t offend those who heard it. On the other hand, aside from the language, the overall tone of "The Nights" is remarkably high and pure. The devotional passion, as Captain Burton rightly points out, often reaches the boiling point of fanaticism, and the emotion is sweet and deep, genuine and tender, simple and true. Its life—strong, vibrant, and diverse—is always infused with that unpretentious pessimism and inherent melancholy that take root even under the brightest skies. The Kazi delivers poetic justice with notable impartiality, and the moral tone is so healthy that at times, we can see beyond the indulgent and libertine scenes “vistas of a higher morality—the morality of Socrates in Plato.” No other work like this portrays Eastern life so vividly. We see the Arab Knight, his skills and his passion for adventure, his love and his thirst for revenge, the cleverness of his wives, and the hypocrisy of his priests, as clearly as if we had lived among them. Gilded palaces, charming women, beautiful gardens, caves full of jewels, and exquisite feasts captivate the senses and add variety to the panorama unfolding before us. Yet, we must reiterate that although there is much plain speaking in the excellent version now being published, nothing is intentionally demoralizing. However, it’s clear that the translator anticipates this criticism of his labor of love. Indeed, there’s a hint of sadness in the preface where the Editor mentions his “unsuccessful professional life” and the knowledge that his country has so little appreciated. Even in the recent Egyptian troubles—which are mentioned somewhat bitterly—his wisdom was overlooked, even though after Major Morice’s death, there wasn’t an English official in the camps before Suakin who could speak Arabic. Captain Burton rightly critiques the scandal and the widespread ignorance of Oriental customs. The upcoming release of the ten volumes, accompanied by notes so rich in knowledge, will surely give the nation a chance to overcome the reproach of neglect that Captain Burton seems to feel more intensely than he wishes to convey.
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.
This was a gesture for the friend and a hard hit for the enemy. Furthermore, it was quickly followed by another bold and sharp piece in the Morning Advertiser (September 15, '85), from which long quotes will be provided soon. The newspaper was always supportive of me during Mr. James Grant's long tenure, and it became even more so when my old acquaintance from my Oxford days, the late Alfred Bate Richards, took over the editorial role. He turned the "Organ of the Licensed Victuallers" into a significant force in politics and was warmly recognized for his contributions by that outstanding conservative, Lord Beaconsfield.
A phrase in the Standard, the "most archaic of the passages," acted upon
A phrase in the Standard, the "most archaic of the passages," acted upon
The "Pall Mall Gazette"
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.
like a red rag to a raging bull. I should rather say that it stirred up the so-called "Sexual I Journal" by suggesting another chance for its dirty sensationalism: perhaps the staff also hoped to provide companionship and a fellow sufferer for their editor, who was then in jail, his offenses being "inciting an indecent assault" and an act of criminal immorality. I wouldn't have felt the need to remind my readers of a scandal mostly forgotten in England, but still vividly remembered by the envious European world, had not the ongoing fabrications, slanders, and lies from the Pall Mall, which continue to this day, forced me to defend myself and explain the real underlying 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.
About three and a half years ago (June 3, '85), the paper shocked the people of London with a shocking series of false, grotesque, and revolting articles titled "The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon." The editor, Mr. William T. Stead, a former teacher in London schools and a respected Methodist backed by non-Conformist support, stirred up much debate over his motives for launching this scandalous expose. His supporters claimed he had been genuinely misled by a manipulative fraud, as if such naive belief could excuse a seasoned journalist! His critics argued that behind a guise of virtue, which Cato never recognized, he aimed to boost his declining subscription numbers, further weakened by his exaggerated admiration for Russia and hostility towards England.
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.
But whatever the motive was, the outcome was terrible. The articles were quickly compiled into a pamphlet (costing two pence), titled "Report of the Pall Mall Gazette's Secret Commission," and featured a complimentary quote from one of Lord Shaftesbury's indiscreetly charitable speeches. They were distributed widely throughout every street and alley in London. This sixteen-page brochure was divided into three chapters and captured the attention of the malicious with its sensational section titles like—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 Young Lives—The Demon Child—and—A Close Time for Girls, the latter intended to back the Lords' Committee's recommendation and the promise from the Home Secretary to raise the age of consent from thirteen to sixteen. And all this money-making material (priced at 2d.) ended predictably with "Philanthropic and Religious Associations can be supplied with copies of this reprint on special terms." Such naïve benevolence and selfless charity needed to be profitable, of course.
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 £3 to £5. 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.
Read by everyone, regardless of class or age, in the capital, the counties, and the colonies, this false and disgusting scandal could only infect even the children with the disease of vice. Little girls from the gutters and streets of East London looked at passing men as if they were sure their innocence could be sold for £3 to £5. However, the public quickly began to treat the writer as he deserved. The abomination was "boycotted" by the press, excluded from clubs, and driven in shame from the "family breakfast table," a tough spot for a newspaper that thrives not on its news but on its advertisements. The editor had the nerve to complain about a "conspiracy of silence," which really meant he wanted his filthy papers to be bought and discussed when the public preferred to ignore them. Yet he must have known that his "Modern Babylon" is no worse in these matters than a handful of smaller Babylons scattered across Europe, Asia, and America; and that it is far from being, except in proportion to size, the "biggest market for human flesh in the world." But by carefully and cleverly presenting the occasional as if it were systematic, and by claiming that the "practice of procuration has been reduced to a science" (instead of being, let's say, one of the fine arts), it's easy to build a case of the most outrageous lies and shameless scandal against any major city.
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 Europe.
The revelations in the Pall Mall were quickly dismissed at home, but they had a different impact abroad. Foreigners still haven't fully understood our national habit of airing our dirty laundry in public. Mr. Stead's sensational claims portraying London as a hub for kidnapping, drugging, and child prostitution, while he pretended to have pure intentions and a fervent desire for good works, were received with enthusiasm by our critics in France, who believe that England's virtue is mostly pretentiousness, and by our German cousins and rivals, who love to criticize us while also taking advantage of us. In fact, the name of England was willfully and unjustly tarnished by a "moral and religious" Englishman across Europe.
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.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 effronté 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.
Right after these "revelations," the Eliza Armstrong case came about, which completely undermined the editor of the "Sexual Gazette" and proved, much to his own detriment, that what seems like the easiest task in the world is actually quite tricky and very dangerous. An accomplice, who couldn't find a "maiden" for immoral purposes after bragging about her skills as a procurer, decided to kidnap one specifically for the so-called good Mr. Stead. As a result, he ended up in the dock along with five others, both men and women; the verdict, sentencing the main conspirator to three months in prison and the others to shorter terms for abduction and indecent assault, was met with widespread approval. The wrongdoer had the zealous and unscrupulous backing, in terms of money and influence, from the National Vigilance Association, a group of meddlesome individuals led by licensed blackmailers who have sadly turned England into their hunting ground. Despite the "Stead Defence Fund" generously provided by Methodists; despite the criminal's self-righteous tone, his glorification of his role, his blatant claims of having pure and noble motives, and his passionate zeal for sexual morality, the trial highlighted the important truth that no one is allowed to break the law to bring about good. It also convincingly disproved the baseless claims against the morality of England, especially London—a charge that "undoubtedly caused immense harm at home and unjustly damaged the country's reputation abroad." According to Mr. Vaughan from the Bow Street Police Court (September 7, '85), the Pall Mall's "sensational articles certainly caused immense pain and sorrow to many decent people at home and significantly tarnished the English nation’s reputation in the eyes of foreigners." Following the Eliza Armstrong case, Mr. Justice Manisty, while summarizing the proceedings, harshly criticized the "shocking display that occurred in the streets of London due to the publication of statements filled with horrific details, and he hoped that those responsible for upholding the law would ensure that such an outrage would not happen again." In his three-month stint as a "first-class misdemeanant" in "happy Holywell," the pure and pious Mr. Stead found time to reflect and didn’t publish his intended articles condemning London as the center of a particular sin associated with 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 rôle. 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."
About mid-September, when Mr. Stead was still in jail, a sub-editor named Mr. Morley (Jun.) reached out to me for an interview, which I agreed to. It was not very satisfactory, except for providing his paper with some "copy." I noticed he was trying hard to put me "in the same box" as his martyred boss and to portray my book ("a collection of old-fashioned delights") as a bigger scandal to public decency than the cheap pamphlet. This, as the London Figaro noted (September 19, '85), is a "ridiculous and absurd comparison." During the first visit, it became clear to me that I was to be the Mr. Pickwick caught between two opposing groups of editors: the pornographers and the anti-pornographers. Since I had no interest in being part of such a spectacle, I turned down the role. When asked about critics, I told the interviewer, "I've taken a strong interest in what the classics call Skiomachia, and I'll let Anonymus and Anonyma scream into the void. I will also ignore with disdain the miserable souls who, when shown a magnificent view, a landscape filled with the highest beauty of Nature and Art, can only see a small pile of dirt here and there. 'You must have been looking for it, Madam!' said, or is said to have said, the 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.).
Moreover, Mr. Morley's way of reporting "interviews" was a bit too forward and American for my taste—that is, too personal, too sensational, and way too annoyingly familiar. I wanted nothing to do with it. Since I couldn't provide more content from the case, the Pall Mall Gazette sent a German Jewish freelance writer my way, who goes by Sigma. This poor guy wrote two articles, "Pantagruelism or Pornography?" (September 14, '85) and "The Ethics of the Dirt" (September 19, '85), in which he shamelessly talks about the "unsullied British breakfast-table," delightfully served with pepper by his perfect editor. Since then, the Pall Mall Gazette has continued its old game of lies and slander at my expense, claiming the right to judgment, sentencing, and execution. In hopes that his bitter and vengeful nonsense would gain traction, the Pall Mall Gazette at one point "heard that the work was to be withdrawn from circulation" (even though it never was). Then they said, "it was resolved by the authorities to ask Captain Burton not to release the third volume and to prosecute him if he ignored the request;" and finally, "the Government has finally decided to suppress Captain Burton with force." All as true as the political articles the Pall Mall Gazette writes with such bold disdain for truth, honesty, and transparency. One can't help but apply to the "Gutter Gazette" the words of Rev. Edward Irving:—"I mean by the British Inquisition that court whose ministers and agents operate in secret; who bring every man's private matters before the eyes of thousands and seek to mangle and ruin his life, trying him without a witness, condemning him without a hearing, and not allowing him to defend himself, meddling in things they have no knowledge of and cannot possibly have any authority over * * * I mean the ignorant, unprincipled, unholy spirit of criticism, which in this Protestant country is producing as dreadful 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:—
Of course, men didn't want to respond to the malicious nonsense of the Pall Mall Gazette, and they noticed the difference between newspaper articles that were printed and handed out to everyone's disgust, and a translated Arabian work that was limited in edition and meant only for a select few. They couldn't ignore that rejecting The Nights while accepting the "revelations" was a ridiculous attempt to focus on minor issues while completely missing the bigger picture. My readers probably won’t thank me for lingering on this point, but I can’t help but quote some of the protests:—
Sir,
Sir,
To the Editor of the "PALL MALL GAZETTE."
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.
Your correspondent "Sigma" has overlooked the many "students" who will purchase Captain Burton's translation as the only literal version, which they need for what has become essential for many—a solid understanding of Egyptian Arabic. The so-called "Arabian Nights" is about the only written link between literary Arabic and colloquial Arabic, both of which they require, along with some guidance. I dare say that its primary use will be as an adult school text, and it’s no more inappropriate than the classics we immerse our boys in at school.
ANGLO EGYPTIAN
September 14th, 1885.
ANGLO EGYPTIAN
September 14, 1885.And the Freethinker's answer (Oct. 25, '85) to these repeated and malicious assaults is as follows:—
And the Freethinker's response (Oct. 25, '85) to these ongoing and spiteful attacks 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.
Here’s a great example of Mr. Stead's self-righteous behavior. Captain Burton, a true gentleman and scholar whom Mr. Stead isn't worthy of serving, is once again criticized for his new translation of the Arabian Nights, which is labeled as so “pornographic” that the price of the first volume has actually jumped from a pound to twenty-five shillings. Further down in the same column, the P.M.G. boasts about the fact that thirty-five shillings were paid for a single copy of its own cheap piece of filth.
The last characteristic touch which I shall take the trouble to notice is the following gem of September 16, '87:—
The last important detail that I’ll mention is this gem from 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.
I was chatting with an American author the other day, and he told me that the customs officials over "there" confiscated all copies of Sir Richard Burton's "Nights" that they found, labeling them as indecent materials. I hope he meant they burned them, and sadly, I fear that everyone who owns this infamous book will do the same, since prices are likely to go up, and Sir Richard will probably laugh at the idea that indecency offers much stronger 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.
The pen is truly a double-edged tool, often wielded by the fool against his own soul. An honest author "chuckles" when his subscribers lose their copies because it boosts the value of his book! I ask, can anything prove better the depravity of a person who is always suspicious and looking for flaws in others? Moreover, the claim that the Custom-house authorities in the United States seized my copies is nothing but a straightforward lie, and the "Sexual Gazette" must have known this very well. Following a complaint from the local Society for the Suppression of Vice, the officials at the Custom-house in New York started by seizing the first volumes of the Villon Version; however, as a literary friend told me (February 10, '88), "the new translations of The Nights have been fully allowed entry at the Custom-house and are delivered upon payment of a 25% duty." My copies were never denied entry.
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 protégé 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).
Mr. Stead left prison with a loud declaration that the rest of his life would be "devoted to Christian chivalry"—whatever that grand statement means. Regarding his later career in journalism, I can only say it’s been unfortunate and inconsistent. He defended the cruel murderer Lipski, attacking the Home Secretary in the harshest terms, which led to his protégé being hanged after a full confession, and the Editor lacked the courage to apologize. He took up the cause of free speech in Ireland, which resulted in many speakers ending up in the infirmaries of local jails. True to his principle, which was made problematic by the older and wiser laws of libel—applying individual, irresponsible judgment to, and passing final and unappealable judgment on, the conduct of private citizens and public figures—he raged and condemned Colonel Hughes-Hallett with such intensity that it only solidified that MP's position. He addressed the issue of free public meetings in England, which led to several misguided individuals (including Mr. Cunninghame Graham, M.P.) being imprisoned, a situation that the "Christian knight" seemed to have agreed to create. But there’s more to discuss regarding the supposed morality of this immoral paper.—Alas! How much it has changed from the old respectable days when, under Mr. Frederic Greenwood, it was truly "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 Bayadére.
A publication that, like the Pall Mall Gazette, primarily focuses on sexual topics and themes does far more long-lasting damage to public morals than books and articles that are openly crude and indecent. The latter are typically read either for their humor and deeper insights (like works by Rabelais and Swift), for their historical importance (like Petronius Arbiter), or for their anthropological value, such as the Alf Laylah. However, public media that, no matter how prim and proper, piously and self-righteously, discusses sexual and intersexual relationships—often considered taboo subjects—truly distorts conduct, taints mental purity, and generally corrupts society. Among more primitive people, the relatively uninhibited interactions between men and women relieve mental tension through physical means; there’s little reason for the mind to linger on romantic or sexual fantasies. In contrast, the completely artificial lifestyle of civilization, which even corrupts monkeys in the zoo, and which stretches the reproductive cycle from springtime throughout the year, leaves many people—who face celibacy—with only one bodily desire, often either unattainable or achievable only through difficulty and risk. As a result, there’s an enormous amount of mental stimulation and moral impurity wherever civilization spreads, affecting maids, matrons, and widows, unless they manage to counteract it through religion, pride, or emotional detachment. How many women in "Society," when struck by madness or childbirth complications, resort to language that would embarrass those in the slums, leaving listeners to wonder where they acquired such vocabulary? How many single women, perceived as cold as virgin snow, how many matrons with unblemished reputations, how many widows who proudly claim the title of univira, must express their bottled-up emotions through what could be called mental prostitution? I refer to the sweet pleasures of sexual conversations and that sub-erotic literature, the poorly written "French novel," whose only strength is its suggestiveness, taking the place of Oriental morosa voluptas and the rare unnatural practices—such as tribadism—still thought to be uncommon in England. How many hypocrites, regardless of gender, who would recoil in disgust from the openly explicit Tom Jones or the Sentimental Voyager, find joy in secretly indulging in sly romances or character "studies" whose depravity is veiled, making them even more dangerous? A publication like the (modern) Pall Mall Gazette, which knowingly exploits and caters to this hidden sense of sexual excitement, is even more notorious than openly immoral books, just as hypocrisy is more detestable than vice, and deceit is more shameful than a lie. And when such a vile system is practiced under the guise of Religion and Morality, the outcome is as disgusting as the occasional sight in the East of a wrinkled old eunuch dressed in a woman's dance attire, leering with painted eyes and swaying like a young Bayadére.
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 coryphæus of the Reptile Press in Great Britain, has apparently still to learn that lying and slandering are neither Christian nor chivalrous.
There’s a lot of value in a nickname: at the very least, it shows which way public opinion is leaning. The Christian Chivalry organization is now commonly known in society as "The Gutter Gazette;" to the public, it goes by "The Purity-Severity Paper" and the "Organ of the Social Pruriency Society," and among its press colleagues, it's referred to as "The Dirt Squirt." In the United States, to maliciously slander someone is to "Pall Mall Gazette him:" "Just like your Pall Mall Gazette," an American said to me while describing a disreputable publication "over there." And Mr. Stead, who has taken it upon himself to be the leading figure of the Reptile Press in Great Britain, seems to still need to grasp 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 little Echo from those days (October 13 and 14, '85) followed the lead of the Pall Mall Gazette and picked up the sounds as they came from the not-so-sweet lips of the charmer who didn’t quite charm wisely. The precious article starts by saying that I’m "always eager for the sensational," and that on this occasion I "cater to the prurient curiosity of the wealthy few," which is his way of saying "ready to learn." It wraps up with this funny closing line:—"Captain Burton might dare to challenge us to a duel for this opinion. If he does, the writer of these lines will just ignore such a letter." The poor writer references the well-known "Miss Baxter, who turned down a man before he asked her." And what weapon could I use, a composing stick or a dung fork, against an anonymous correspondent from the hawkers' and newsboys' "Hecker," the popular ha'penny of East London? So I left him to the kind whims 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."
The Echo is a little bit wild,
Its "par." really packs a punch:
In fact, it hasn’t held back at all
It's all about "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).
I’m happy to add that the Echo has now (1888) built a reputation for good and sensible writing, having left the "blatant" section to the Star (see, for the nonsense about a fake 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 littérateur. 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.
In the opinions of the Press, you will find a selection from half a century of praise for my work, which a few curious folks will find interesting. I also acknowledge those who misjudged my efforts in this paper. Among my supporters, I want to highlight The Bat (September 29, '85), who has consistently defended me, proving to be a figure of "light and leading." I'm also grateful 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) for their thoughtful and insightful reviews. Special thanks go to the Editor and particularly to "Our London Correspondent" of the Lincoln Gazette (October 10 and October 17, '85, not to mention other smaller articles): these articles will be reprinted almost in full because they conveyed my thoughts as if they were my own. I have quoted Mr. J. Addington Symonds extensively; if there's anyone in England who can provide an authoritative judgment on literary style, it is certainly this writer. Among the literary journals, The Academy has always been my ally, and I still have the honor of corresponding with them. We are labeled "faddists," probably because of our "fad" of signing our articles, allowing those critiqued to respond to the critic.
I now turn to another of my unfriends, amongst whom is and long has been
I now turn to another one of my unfriends, among whom is and has long been
The "Saturday Review,"
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.
This old-timer, who has definitely seen better days, decided to grace me with six notices (January 2 and March 27, '86; April 30, June 4, August 14, '87, and July 21, '88), of which No. 1, covering my first two volumes, is written in the easy-going American style, making the book review itself; that is, providing the writer with all the knowledge and familiarity with the subject that he showcases to a disinterested and easily fooled public. This particular kind of dishonesty has recently taken over and replaced the classic English critique from Jeffrey, Macaulay, and the late Mr. Abraham Hayward, which mainly served as a convenient hook for the contents of the critic's thoughts or notes. The gloomy article starts off in a typical way.
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.
Abroad, we English are seen as the most prudish nation; we're known for making kid-friendly versions of even the great William Shakespeare. But we will definitely lose this reputation if the Kamashastra Society gains popularity. Captain Burton has long been recognized as a daring explorer; his pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, where he disguised himself and adopted the manners and customs of a devout Muslim, was remarkable for its bravery. However, he may be thought to have outdone himself now, as he has had the audacity to present his fellow countrymen with a literal and uncensored 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:—
The writer is nice enough to praise me for my "picturesque and fluent English" and to admit that I’ve effectively captured the rhyming rhythm of the original. But The Saturday wouldn't be The Saturday without nitpicking, misguided opinions, and a focus on the mundane, along with outright, unnecessary cruelty to those less able. The reviewer calls out as "too conceited to be ignored" the good old English "whenas" (for when, vol. ii. 130), the common ballad phrase "a plump of spearmen" (ii. 190), and a "red cent" (i. 321), which is the only direct translation of "Fals ahmar" that demonstrates the long and noble lineage of a term believed to be modern and American. Furthermore, this critic even harshly condemns the sin of providing him with "useful knowledge." The important note (ii. 45) about the typical mispronunciation of the J in Jerusalem, Jesus, Jehovah—which is a mispronunciation many are unaware of and likely surprised this Son of King "We" is—gets dismissed as "uninteresting to the reader of the Arabian Nights." Conversely, three of my mistakes ("p. 43" instead of "p. 45" in vol. ii., index; "King Zahr Shah" instead of "King Suleyman Shah," ii. 285; and the careless mix-up of the Caliphs Al-Muntasir and Al-Mustansir, ii. 817, note i.) were corrected, and I have duly acknowledged those corrections. Article No. i. concludes with a Saturnine geniality, completely overlooking a saying about those who live 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."
Finally, we regret that Captain Burton couldn't find kinder words to describe the valuable efforts of a dedicated clergyman than when he referred to "Missionary Porter's miserable Handbook" in his note.
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.
As Mr. Missionary Porter has always kept talking smack about me, even in his latest edition of Murray's "miserable Handbook," a collection of Irish mistakes and mixed-up Bible quotes, I have every reason to return the favor.
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-scène 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 Americanicè—all its matter from my book. At the tail-end, however comes the normal sting: I am guilty of not explaining "Wuzú" (lesser ablution), "Ghusl" (greater ablution), and "Zakát" (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 (à propos of kabábs) 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 second article (March 27, '86), about vol. iii., starts with one of those clichéd phrases that's long been a favorite of The Saturday, whether in its stuffy old age or its lively youth. "There’s one thing that everyone agrees on, regardless of their beliefs or country, and that’s that it’s better to give than to receive. This thing is good advice. We also notice that the generosity with which it’s offered is matched only by the stingy way it’s often received; in fact, the very goodness of the advice seems to work against its proper appreciation by the receiver." The critic then moves on to apply his opinion to my situation. The idea here isn’t new; we find in The Spectator (No. dxii.), "There’s nothing we take so reluctantly as good advice," etc., but Mr. Spectator writes well, and his imitator does not. Furthermore, the statement isn’t true. We authors who have studied a topic for years are, I believe, open to learning, but we rightly object to abandoning our opinions and judgments for a counselor who has just "crammed" for his piece. Moreover, we need to ensure that he possesses the three essential qualities of a good adviser—ability to advise appropriately, honesty in giving true advice, and courtesy in advising decently. Now, the Saturday Review lacks all these qualifications. In fact, his words read like subtle and sneaky irony considering the strange and outrageous ideas that occasionally light up his dull pages. What accuracy can we expect from a journal whose critic, while attacking Matthew Arnold, mistakenly calls a set of thirty lines in heroic couplets a "sonnet"? His mix-up of Dr. Jenner, the Vaccinator, with Sir William Jenner, the President of the R. C. of Physicians, is beyond comprehension. And what can we say about his claim to be an expert (November 4th, '82)? "Then Jonathan Scott, LL.D. Oxon, tells the world that he intended to retranslate the Tales provided by Galland(!) but found Galland so satisfactory overall (!!) that he scrapped the idea and is now reprinting Galland with illustrations by M. Lalauze, providing a French perspective on Arab life. Why Jonathan Scott, LL.D., thought he could improve upon Galland while Mr. Lane's version already exists and has just been reprinted remains unclear." In these remarkable statements, Jonathan Scott’s first edition with engravings from paintings by Smirke, printed by Longmans in 1811, is confused with the flawed reprint by Messieurs Nimmo and Bain from 1883; the illustrations being borrowed from M. Adolphe Lalauze, a French artist (born 1838), a master of etchings, who studied in North Africa and beautifully captured the scene of "The Nights" with an amazing contrast of white and black nudities. And this is the wise man who whimsically complains that I have refused to be enlightened by his "humble suggestions." Furthermore, the article isn’t bad just because it takes—again American-style—its content from my book. However, it ends with the usual sting: I am blamed for not explaining "Wuzú" (minor ablution), "Ghusl" (major ablution), and "Zakát" (legal alms that function as a tax for the poor), proving that the writer never read vol. iii. He confidently proposes replacing "Cafilah" with the more familiar word "Caravan," as if it were my specialty (as it is his) to hunt down clichés: he criticizes "interrogation points a l'Espagnole upside down" (?) which I still find to be an excellent way to differentiate a common Q(uestion) from A(nswer), and he seriously congratulates me on discovering a typo on the flyleaf. No. iii. (August 14, '86, concerning vols. vi., vii., and viii.) avoids the opening pretensions and absurdities of No. ii. and is made reasonably safe by the familiar use of scissors and glue. But—desinit in piscem—it ends awkwardly; and we find, in a darkly comic twist, a hidden venom. It criticizes me for telling the English public what it still doesn’t know, the best way to cook meat (in regard to kabábs), and it "trembles" to receive vols. ix. and x. because genuinely (from a literary standpoint, of course) there seems to be nothing that the translator might not be capable of"—capable de tout, as Voltaire said about Habbakuk and another agnostic Frenchman about the Prophet Zerubbabel. This was high praise considering the Saturday's tendency to favor mediocrity and the average man; but as a sign of bad omens, it was a brutum fulmen. No. iv. (August 30, '87) was, strangely enough, almost polite in tone and ended with a hint of 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:—
"The work of twenty-five years," writes the translator in L'Envoi, "is now complete, and certainly no one could have been better suited, given their education and taste, for translating the 'Nights' than the skilled author of 'Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina.' His summary of the contents and nature of 'The Thousand and One Nights' in the Terminal Essay is a remarkable piece of careful analysis, and we couldn’t conclude our review better than with a paragraph that beautifully captures the vast imagination and diversity of the scene that unfolds before us:—
"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."
"Viewed as a whole, they present a drama of Eastern life and a Dance of Death that is elevated by faith and deep emotions, by the certainty of redemption and the fullness of atoning balance, where virtue triumphs, vice is defeated, and the ways of Allah are justified to humanity. They create an image that sticks in the mind. They form a vivid display where archangels and angels, devils and goblins, beings made of air, fire, and water naturally interact with people of the earth, where flying horses and talking fish are completely believable, where kings and princes encounter fishermen and beggars, lamias and cannibals, where citizens bump into Bedouins and eunuchs meet knights; the judge chats with the thief.... The work is like a kaleidoscope where everything comes together, beautiful palaces and pavilions; grim underground caves and dreadful words, gardens more beautiful than those of the Hesperides; seas crashing with waves against enchanted mountains, valleys of the Shadow of Death, air travels and strolls in the depths of the ocean, duels, battles, and sieges, the courting of maidens and the wedding ceremony. All the splendor and squalor, beauty and ugliness, glamour and grotesqueness, magic and sadness, bravery and cowardice of Eastern life are present 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 pièce 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, after the Saturday Review has condescended to preach at me in a serious tone, I must be allowed a small response in kind. As the French say, an annoying group that prefers glory over "duty" and places "honor" before "honesty," the role of the press is a sacred calling, a mission: its purpose is to spread Truth and Knowledge and to fight against Ignorance and Falsehood. "Sacrilege," in this profession, means violating its two main commandments and all sins, whether active or passive, driven by a vain desire for fame, selfish pride, or petty grudges. So, what should we say about a publication that, supposedly created to "counteract the immorality of The Times," adds a complete lack of literary honor to its usual journalistic errors, offenses, and mistakes, along with systematic misrepresentation, malice, and sheer ruffian behavior? Those who find such statements exaggerated should take a look at my justificatory piece, the article from Saturday (June 28, '88) about Mr. Hitchman's "Biography of Sir Richard Burton." No one from Grub Street during the rough old days of British mob-savagery could have produced a more damning example of deliberate falsehood, undignified insults, and brutal malice, all to satisfy a well-known personal grudge. The "Saturday Reviler"—and I assert there's some truth in that nickname—has only become somewhat weaker, not kinder, nor more sympathetic since the clever author of "In Her Majesty's Keeping" referred to this Magister Morum as "the benevolent and wise guardian of literature"; and since Darwin remarked (ii. 260) "One cannot expect fairness in a reviewer;" nor has it even taken to heart what my friend Swinburne said (regarding its issue of December 15, '83) "clumsy and shallow snobbery can do no harm." Like other things becoming outdated, it has, I must admit, served a specific purpose in the literary world. It has survived for thirty years, celebrating mediocrity and catering to the mischievous flaws of human nature, the uncharitable emotions of those who dislike the novel, the original, the surprising, and the shocking, and who are all too happy to witness and assist in the Procrustean effort to trim and stretch thoughts, ideas, and language that strive to rise above the ordinary and vulgar level. This direct descendant of the ancient Satirist, after long serving as a breeding ground for envy, hatred, and malice, is now entering the decline of an unworthy old age. Since the death of its owner, Mr. Beresford-Hope, it has been steadily declining, as shown by its circulation, once 15,000, and now closer to 5,000 than 10,000. It has become a pale shadow of its former self—retaining passive ill-will but lacking the ability for active malice—when journalists were often forced to refuse correspondence regarding its misjudgments and to close their columns to complainants that would otherwise have been filled with fair and reasonable protests. The "young lions" of its prime (too often decked out in a calf-skin for their cowardly ways) are now among the dead, and the pack of jackals that has taken up the howling is no longer feared by Thackeray nor can it provoke the righteous disgust of the champion 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.
And now, before I talk about another reviewer, I’d like to say a few words about two personal topics: the style I've chosen for my translation and my understanding of the Arabic 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 Bibliothèque 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. Sháhbandar), from Turkish (as Khátún) 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.
I hardly need to point out something everyone notices to some degree: how important wording and expression are in all kinds of creative and fictional writing, and how both poetry and prose revel in beauty and allow a great deal of freedom in these areas. A long study of Galland, Torrens, Lane, and Payne has convinced me that none of these translators, even though each has their own strengths, has managed to keep the local flavor of the original. The French version has been so Gallicized and popularized that even the crude English translations have struggled to lose their French essence. Torrens tried to be literal, which was commendable and brave, but his execution was rough and entirely too straightforward; his familiarity with Arabic, or rather Egyptian, wasn’t enough for the task. Lane, whom I’ve mentioned before and will be pushed by his reckless relatives and interested friends to discuss further, adopted a Latinized form of English that was flat and dull, bloated and lifeless, much like Sale's Koran; his style was the least suitable attire for a Middle Ages Oriental romance. Payne satisfied all cultured tastes perfectly, but he intentionally changed a romantic story into a classical work: while no one can overlook its great merits as strong, vibrant English, it lacks one essential aspect—the diverse richness of The Nights. The original Arabic text, which in the first thirteen tales (Terminal Essay, p. 78) must date from before the 13th century at the latest (since Galland's manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale has been dated to the early 14th century), is highly varied: it uses local terms, sayings, and references (some of which are now forgotten), and it borrows freely from Persian (e.g., Sháhbandar), Turkish (like Khátún), and Sanskrit (for instance, Brahman). To match its vocabulary, I could only create a somewhat archaic English that would contrast with our modern everyday speech, including even Latin and French terms like res scibilis and citrouille. This mixture startled critics and skeptics who weren't informed about its purpose; however, I firmly believe it genuinely captures the diverse essence of the Arabo-Egyptian. It certainly serves a purpose that's often overlooked by writers and unnoticed by reviewers. The clear and fluid styles of Buckle and Darwin (the modern Aristotle who transformed Biological Science) are perfect tools for their intentions: they are crystal-clear and never distract even a tiny bit of the reader's mind from the crucial meaning underlying the words. But in imaginative works, we need a completely different approach, a style that, by any means necessary, avoids the imminent risk of dullness and monotony while adding to fluidity the charm of variety, surprise, and even disappointment when a musical discord is needed.
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 clientèle, must produce a version for a poor £20. 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 Khaldún." It was this grand ideal of a translator's duty that made Eustache Deschamps, a contemporary poet, write of his English brother bard.—
Again, my view of a translator's role has never been as low as it is often considered, even back when English speakers routinely translated every significant or interesting work published in Europe. We can’t expect too much from someone who, as Messieurs Vizetelly tell their clients, has to produce a version for a meager £20. But at his best, the translator, while accurately capturing the content and style of the original, focuses on two main goals. His primary objective is to provide an honest and faithful copy, adding nothing to the meaning and taking away nothing from its unique charm, all while striving to engage and enlighten his readers. However, he also has—or should have—another aim that showcases the height of interpretation. Every language can benefit from sharing and borrowing from its neighbors, whether nearby or distant—be it an adjective, a metaphor, a phrasing, or a quirky idiom—and a translator with original insight should seize the chances to enrich his native language with foreign and fresh expressions, which may be viewed as strange until they are officially adopted and integrated. Examples include the term "peoples" from Kossuth and the handy "lengthy," a revival of a traditional English word in American usage. Moreover, my modern translator won’t push the fascinating and often surprising aspects of his foreign author’s phrasing into a footnote, as is common practice among his uninspired peers, dulling the text with mundane English equivalents—effectively doing the opposite of what he ought to do. There’s no need to provide examples regarding this aspect of "Bathos"; they are prevalent in nearly every Western translation of Eastern works, especially the French, like Baron de Slane's honest and diligent "Ibn Khaldún." It was this noble ideal of a translator's responsibility that inspired Eustache Deschamps, a contemporary poet, to write about his English poet counterpart.—
"Grand Translateur, Noble Geoffroy Chaucier."
"Grand Translator, Noble Geoffrey Chaucer."
Here,
Here,
"The firste finder of our faire language"
"The first discoverer of our beautiful 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.
is called a "Socrates in philosophy, a Seneca in morals, an Angel in conduct, and a great Translator," which this seeming anti-climax has quite upset many writers of "Lives" and "Memoirs." The title is given simply because Chaucer translated (in the best and highest sense of the term) into his English language and its unique features, the thoughts and ideas of his foreign models—the very letter and spirit of Petrarch and Boccaccio.
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 archæology 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. 182).
That my efforts to capture the form and features of the original and my writing style are well-suited to the content is evident from the consensus of the "Notices" that I will quote shortly. Mr. J. Addington Symonds describes the translation as being executed with "unique literary vigor." Mr. Swinburne is flattering, and even the Saturday goes so far as to say, "Captain Burton is certainly successful in the way he has translated the vivid lines of the original." But style is personal; and this is something that every educated person who writes honestly will form, express, and maintain their own opinion on: there are many who dislike "Pickwick" and cannot appreciate Vanity Fair. Thus, the Edinburgh Review No. 335 (pp. 174, 181) claims my work is "a mix of the coarsest slang from all nations;" it also calls it "an unreadable blend of archæology and 'slang,' filled with Americanisms, and full of an affected attempt to use obsolete or foreign words and phrases;" and finally, it has the audacity to state, "Captain Burton has produced a version that is neither Arabic nor English, but which at least has the merit of being beautifully unreadable" (p. 182).
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 atténuante 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., "Maulá" = lord, slave; and "'Ajúz" with 88 different meanings. Its literature, poetic, semi-poetic and prosaic, falls into three greater sections:—Ancient (The Suspendeds, the Kitáb al-Aghání and the Koran), Mediæval (Al-Mutanabbi, Al-Asm'ài, Abú Nowás and the poets of the Harunic cycle) and Moderns, of whom not the least important (e.g. Yúsuf al-Yazají) 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 Banú Fahim of Al-Hijáz 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-'Áli the lofty addressed to the great, Al-Wasat used for daily converse and Al-Dún the lowly or broken "loghat" (jargon) belonging to most tribes save their own. In Egypt the purest speakers are those of the Sa'íd—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 Sukún (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.
It has been spread widely enough by the Lane-Poole group—referred to as poules mouillees by an Arabist friend—that I don’t know Arabic. Let me quickly admit to this accusation, saying as a mitigating factor that I don’t know anyone who truly understands a language that we might say, as the honest Izaak Walton did about other crafts, "angling is so much like mathematics that it can never be fully learned." Most of us can master a part of a language about which its native speakers declare, "Only Allah knows its entirety," but we still lack the resources to study it as a complete system. Older than the legendary Tower of Babel, and spanning an area from Eastern Arabia to the Maghrib al-Aksa (western Mauritania), from Chaldaea in the North to southern Zanzibar, it has a potential vocabulary of 1,200,000 words, all of which can be used, and while they specify the finest nuances of meaning, many of them, technically termed "Zidd," have meanings that are completely opposite, e.g., "Maulá" = lord, slave; and "'Ajúz" has 88 different meanings. Its literature—poetic, semi-poetic, and prose—falls into three major sections: Ancient (The Suspended Poems, the Kitáb al-Aghání, and the Qur’an), Medieval (Al-Mutanabbi, Al-Asm'ài, Abú Nowás, and the poets of the Harunic cycle), and Modern, among which those of our own time (e.g., Yúsuf al-Yazají) are not the least important. Across its vast region, there are local differences in terminology that make each dialect a subject of study; many of these are closely related to older languages, like Egyptian with Coptic and Moorish with Berber. The purest speakers are still the Badawin, who are often not understood by the urban populations (e.g., of Cairo, Damascus, and Baghdad) near whom they set up their tents; and some groups like the Banú Fahim of Al-Hijáz still speak in a sub-classical way, occasionally using terminal vowels and nunnation that have otherwise become obsolete. These nomads, whose evening campfires are still their schools for eloquence and whose improvisations are their unwritten laws, divide speech into three levels: Al-'Áli, the lofty form meant for the elite; Al-Wasat, used for everyday conversation; and Al-Dún, the low or broken "loghat" (jargon) that belongs to all tribes except their own. In Egypt, the purest speakers are those of the Sa'íd—the upper Nile region—who are quite different from the two main dialects of the Delta; in Syria, where the older Aramean is still spoken among some villagers near Damascus, the best Arabists are the Druzes, a mix of Arabs and Kurds who carefully cultivate the language. Among the dialect families along the southern Mediterranean coast, the Moroccan and Algerian dialects are influenced by Berber, Spanish, and Italian words and have a roughness due to the excessive use of Sukún (the quiescence or joining of consonants), while the Tunisian dialect is closer to the Syrian and the Maltese was originally Punic. The jargon of Mecca is admittedly among the worst. However, this vast field has only been scratched, not fully explored, and much of it, especially the Mesopotamian and Himyaritic of Mahrahland, still remains untouched and anything but barren.
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 Afghánistán; and the departmental glossaries such as the many dealing with "Tasawwuf"—the Moslem form of Gnosticism. The excellent lexicon of the late Professor Dozy, Supplément 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), Précis 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. José 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 Sprichwörter, 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 vulgär Dialektes von Ægypten, (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 Haurán; No. 3, Kasrawán 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. Clément 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 Sprichwörter, 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.
Materials for studying Arabic in general and its dialects, in particular, are still lacking, and most dictionaries just recycle old content instead of gathering new and unknown material. This should include collections of prayers, proverbs, folk songs, stories, riddles, and satire, along with those multilingual vocabularies that are common in many Eastern regions, especially in Sind and Afghanistan. There are also departmental glossaries, such as those focused on "Tasawwuf"—the Islamic version of Gnosticism. The great lexicon by the late Professor Dozy, Supplément aux Dictionnaires Arabes, by R. Dozy, Leyde: E. J. Brill, 1881, was a step forward, but we still need more additions like Baron Adolph Von Kremer's Beitrage zur Arabischen Lexicographie (In commission bei Carl Gerold's Sohn, Wien, 1884). The French, as expected, got started early, for example, M. Ruphy's Dictionnaire abrege francais-arabe, Paris, Imprimerie de la Republique, 1810; they have done commendable work in Algiers and are continuing that in Tunis. Among these are Marcel, Vocabulaire, etc. (Paris, 1837), Bled de Braine (Paris, 1846), who adds a study of Moroccan and Egyptian to his Cours Synthetique, Professor Cherbonneau (Paris, 1854), Précis Historique, and Dialogues, etc. (Alger, 1858); M. Gasselin (Paris, 1866), Dictionnaire francais-arabe, M. Brassier (Algiers, 1871), Dictionnaire pratique, which also includes Algerian and Tunisian terms; General Parmentier (Vocabulaire arabe-francais des Principaux Termes de Geographie, etc.: Paris, rue Antoine-Dubois, 1882); and, to name a few others, M. Caussin de Perceval (fils) has widely circulated his Grammaire Arabe Vulgaire (Paris, 1824). 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. José de Lerchundi, a respected missionary in Tangier, has copied and even improved upon this with his Rudimentos del Arabe Vulgar (Madrid, Rivadeneyra, 1872); his studies on the Maghribi dialect are very valuable. Dr. A. Socin produced his Arabische Sprichwörter, etc. (Tubingen, 1878), and the late Wilhelm Spitta-Bey, whose untimely death was widely mourned, left behind a grammar of Egyptian that would have been a great model if the author had brought more knowledge of Coptic to his Grammatik des Arabischen vulgär Dialektes von Ægypten (Leipsig, 1870). Dr. Landberg published a volume of Syrian Proverbs with Brill of Leyden and Maisonneuve of Paris in 1883 and promises to produce around five more—No. 2, Damascus and the Haurán; No. 3, Kasrawán and the Nusayriyah; No. 4, Homs, Hamah, and Halab (Aleppo), and No. 5, the Badawin of Syria. It's clear that this process could continue indefinitely by a writer I will discuss later. M. Clément Huart (Jour. Asiat., Jan. '83) has published notes on the dialect of Damascus: Dr. C. Snouck Hurgronje released a collection of 77 proverbs and idioms with extensive notes in his Mehkanische Sprichwörter, etc. (Haag, Martinus Nijhoff, 1886), after being expelled from Mecca by the Turkish authorities who found out about him only through a Parisian journal, Le Temps (see his Het Mekkanshe Feest, Leyden, 1880). For the lower Najd and upper Hijaz, we have a glossary of Arabic words skillfully edited by Prof. M. J. de Goeje in Mr. Charles M. Doughty's valuable and imaginative "Arabia Deserta" (ii. 542-690: see The Academy, July 28th, '88). Thus, local vocabularies are expanding, but it will take a long time before the entire area 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 Iliyát or wandering pastoral tribes and master a host of cognate tongues whose chiefs are Armenian (Old and New), Caucasian, a modern Babel, Kurdish, Lúri (Bakhtiyári), Balochki and Pukhtú 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 "Mádiyán" = a mare presupposes the existence of "Narayán" = 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.
Again, the East, especially the Muslim East since the Massacre of Damascus in 1860, though still slow to change, is clearly making progress. The once isolated and self-sufficient communities are now being jolted by constant advancements around them; new needs and unfamiliar objects are forcing them, whether they like it or not, to create local equivalents for the terminology of modern arts and sciences. Therefore, an Orientalist looking to create a contemporary Persian dictionary must not only read all the diaries and journals from Tehran and the vocabularies of Yazd and Herat but also go further afield. They need to familiarize themselves with the language of the Iliyát or wandering pastoral tribes and master a variety of related languages, whose speakers include Armenians (both Old and New), Caucasians, a modern Babel, Kurds, Lurs (Bakhtiari), Baloch, and Pashto or Afghan, in addition to the direct descendants of the Zend, such as Pehlevi, Dari, and others. Even in the most primitive dialects, they will find terms that shed light on the literary Iranian lexicons: for example, "Mádiyán," meaning a mare, implies the existence of "Narayán," meaning a stallion, which is preserved in the rough dialect of the Baloch mountain people. This process of general collection would, in our time, be best achieved in the manner of Professor James A. H. Murray’s "New English Dictionary on Historical Principles." It would be compiled by a team of readers living in various parts of Persia, working with the Royal Asiatic Society (whose stagnant remains they might revive) and collaborating with Russia, which former friends have turned into an angry and jealous rival and is always eager in the linguistic arena.
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.
But if the Persian dictionary has its challenges, the task will be even tougher with Arabic, which covers a far greater range. We must start with Spain and Portugal, Sardinia and the Balearic Islands, Southern Italy and Sicily; and then move on to North Africa and the two "Soudans," the Eastern one extending deep South of the Equator and the Western one stretching nearly to the Equator. In Asia, in addition to the vast Arabian Peninsula, which spans a million square miles, we see a multitude of linguistic outliers, such as Upper Hindostan, the Concan, Malacca, Java, and even distant Yun-nan, where Islam is the prevailing religion, and where Arabic is the language of Holy Scripture.
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 —Abú Bakr al-Rází (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 Karáchí (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 Somáli-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.
My journey into the world of Arabic began at Oxford with my tutor, Dr. W. A. Greenhill, who published a "Treatise on Small-pox and Measles," translated from Rhazes —Abú Bakr al-Rází (London, 1847). There, the renowned Arabist, Don Pascual de Gayangos, kindly taught me to write Arabic from right to left. During eight years in Western India and Moslem Sind, while I was studying Persian and various local languages, I had to maintain and deepen my practical knowledge of the language that provides all the religious and most of the metaphysical terminology. In my last year in Sindian Karáchí (1849), I brought in a Shaykh from Maskat. Then, the serious work began. Besides Erpenius' (D'Erp) "Grammatica Arabica," I read Richardon, De Sacy, and Forbes, and at least a dozen Perso-Arabic texts (mostly pamphlets) on "Serf Wa Nahw"—Accidence and Syntax—and memorized one-fourth of the Koran. A series of travels and long stays in Egypt at different times, a pilgrimage to the Moslem Holy Land, and exploring the Arabic-speaking Somali coasts and Harar-Gay in the Galla region of Southern Abyssinia significantly enhanced my experience. In Aden, where I took the official exam, Captain (now Sir R. Lambert) Playfair and the late Rev. G. Percy Badger, who reviewed my papers, were pleased to report positively on my skills. During several years of service and exploration in Western Africa and Brazil, my studies mainly focused on "Thousand Nights and a Night." When a language isn't needed for practical use, I tend to forget as much of it as I can to make room for new knowledge. However, at the Consulate in Damascus, as well as in West Arabian Midian and Moroccan Tangier, I quickly regained what I had lost. In fact, regarding this and various other topics, I can say without arrogance that I've forgotten as much as many Arabists have learned. But I reiterate my admission that I do not know Arabic, and I still have yet to meet the person who truly does know it.
Orientalists, however, are like poets and musicians, a rageous race. A passing allusion to a Swedish student styled by others (Mekkanische Sprichwörter, 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.
Orientalists, however, are like poets and musicians, a passionate bunch. A brief mention of a Swedish student referred to by others as "Dr. Landberg" (Mekkanische Sprichwörter, etc., p.1) and by himself as "Doctor Count Carlo Landberg" caught me off guard with the following message. I’m sharing it in full because it is the only rude attempt at communication regarding The Nights that I have encountered so far.
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 Hanná 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'interprète fidèle 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 ægis of a portentous coronet and initials blazing with or, yules and azure.
In his introduction (p. xx.) to the Syrian Proverbs and Sayings Doctor, Count Landberg critiqued, with less understanding than usual, my study titled "Common Syrian Proverbs" (Unexplored Syria, i. 264-269). These 187 "sayings" were mainly taken from a manuscript collection by one Hanná Misk, a former dragoman of the British Consulate in Damascus, a small collection for personal use that might be compiled by a Syrian Christian bourgeois. Following this, the critic absurdly claimed that the translator wanted to focus on classical language instead of being a true interpreter of the people's language. My response was (The Nights, vol. viii. 148) that since I was discussing proverbs familiar to the more educated citizens, his critique missed the mark; this led to the following letter arriving under a grand coronet and initials shimmering with gold, red, and blue.
Paris, le 24 Févr., 1888.
Paris, February 24, 1888.
Monsieur,
Sir,
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'êtes nullement à même de me juger. Votre article contient, comme tout ce que vous avez écrit dans le domaine de la langue arabe, des bévues. C'est vous qui n'êtes pas arabisant: cela est bien connu et reconnu, et nous ne nous donnons pas même la peine de relever toutes les innombrables erreurs don't vos publications fourmillent. Quant à "Sahífah" vous êtes encore en erreur. Mon étymologie est acceptée par tout le monde et je vous renvoie à Fleischer, Kleinre Schriften, p. 468, Leipzig, 1885, où vous trouverez ['instruction nécessaire. Le dilettantism qui se trahit dans tout ce que vous écrivez vous fait faire de telles erreurs. Nous autres arabisants et professo (?) nous ne vous avons jamais et nous ne vous pouvons jamais considérer comme arabisant. Voila ma réponse à votre note.
Je suis honoré de vous envoyer 2 fascicules de mes Critica Arabica. Dans le vol. viii. p. 48 de votre traduction de 1001 Nuits, vous avez une note qui me concerne. Vous y mentionnez que je ne suis pas un "Arabist." Ce n'est pas votre jugement qui m'impressionne, car vous n'êtes pas en position de me juger. Votre article contient, comme tout ce que vous avez écrit sur la langue arabe, des erreurs. C'est vous qui n'êtes pas arabisant : cela est bien connu et reconnu, et nous ne nous donnons même pas la peine de relever toutes les innombrables erreurs présentes dans vos publications. En ce qui concerne "Sahífah", vous êtes encore dans l'erreur. Mon étymologie est acceptée par tout le monde et je vous renvoie à Fleischer, Kleinre Schriften, p. 468, Leipzig, 1885, où vous trouverez l'instruction nécessaire. Le dilettantisme qui transparaît dans tout ce que vous écrivez vous pousse à faire de telles erreurs. Nous, arabisants et professeurs, ne vous avons jamais et ne pourrons jamais vous considérer comme arabisant. Voilà ma réponse à votre note.
Agréez, Monsieur,
l'expression de mes sentiments distingués,
Comte Lasdberg,
Dr.-ès-lettres.
Sincerely,
the expression of my distinguished feelings,
Count Lasdberg,
PhD.After these preliminaries I proceed to notice the article (No. 335, of July '86) in
After these preliminaries, I will now address the article (No. 335, from July '86) in
The "Edinburgh Review"
The "Edinburgh Review"
and to explain its private history with the motives which begat it.
and to explain its private history along with the motives that brought it into being.
"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 ætas. 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 printer.
"This is the Augustan age of English criticism," say the reviewers, who like to point out that this period is one of literary appreciation rather than original creation; that is, contemporary reviewers, critics, and monograph writers are seen as more important than the "makers" of verse or prose. In fact, it is their golden age. I respond, "Not pure gold, but rather a mix of metals—some noble, much ignoble; a little gold, more silver, and a lot of brass, lead, and waste." There’s the criticism of Sainte Beuve, the late Matthew Arnold, and Swinburne, as well as the criticism from the Saturday Reviler and the Edinburgh criticaster. The good criticism represents truth and honor: it offers both outsight and insight, teaching and inspiring or providing comfort and solace, unless a strong sense of duty demands strictness. In short, it is sharp, guiding, and creative. Let the young beginner memorize what one master says about another: "He was never driven to coarseness: his jabs were delivered with precision according to the established rules of engagement; he steadfastly upheld the honor of his profession, and in his practice was consistently bold, independent, and incorruptible." The bad criticism is biased, one-sided, cunning, misleading, and immoral; it serves personal and selfish interests, showing blatant disregard for the obligations an honest and honorable writer has to the public and to themselves. Such critiques benefit no one being reviewed. He senses that he has been elevated or diminished by a literary hireling who may have been paid to either praise or attack him, primarily to glorify or demean his publisher or his printer.
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:—
My literary career has given me plenty of interesting insights. When I wrote about topics like The Lake Regions of Central Africa, which were then considered unknown, I could easily spot in the journalistic reviews all the tricks of the trade. The few honest ones would admit they had nothing to say on the subject, and they came to me for information, expressing their gratitude. Many dishonest writers used various tactics. The diligent ones would research voyages and travels about nearby places like Abyssinia, the Cape, and the African Coasts, both Eastern and Western; they would write in a sort of reflected light without acknowledging that they were relying on my works. Others would review my book in the typical American way, rehashing what I produced, taking all their facts from me without revealing that to the reader, then proceeding to either praise or criticize it. The worst ones, filled with malicious intent, would focus not on the work but on me as the author, following the old principle of "abusing the plaintiff's attorney." These tactics explain why criticism has declined today and why the public ignores such literary judgments. Just a few years ago, a positive review in a top newspaper meant "fifty pounds in the author's pocket"; now it’s worth barely any change unless it’s signed by some well-known writer-politician or an active clergyman who knows how to appeal to the public. The decline and fall are well captured in the old lines:—
"Non est sanctior quod laudaris:
Non est vilior si vituperaris."
"You're not more holy just because you're praised:
You're not less valuable if you're criticized.""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—
"No one these days cares about reviews," wrote Darwin way back in 1849; and it's easy to understand why. I've already mentioned the responsibility of reviewing the reviewer when their work deserves it, despite modern criticism's claims that it shouldn't be criticized. Even though attacking an anonymous writer feels pointless, the effort still has value. A well-known and popular novelist today has been a favorite target for some journalists who, with their typical limited understanding of people—
"That read too little, and that write too much"—
"Those who read too little and those who 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—
persistently clashed with the points where the author was almost always right and the reviewer was wrong. "An eagle doesn't stoop to catch flies;" the target of harsh satire looked down upon—
"The creatures of the stall and stye,"
"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 continued in scornful silence, agreeing by not speaking up against something that could easily be disproven, and allowing a foolish and misguided sentence to mislead the public it claims to guide. "Consider each person's criticism but hold back your own judgment," is a smart saying when acted on silently; however, it often results in suffering in public opinion. The situation completely shifted when, at my suggestion, the writer was convinced to nab a few of the wrongdoers and give them the punishment and correction they clearly deserved.
And now to my tale.
And now for my story.
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.
Mr. Henry Reeve, the Editor of the Edinburgh Review, wrote to me shortly before my first volume was released to subscribers (September '85), asking for advance copies, as his magazine planned to publish a general review of The Arabian Nights Entertainments. However, I was wary of the man whose indiscretion and recklessness had been unpleasantly exposed in the Greville (Mr. Worldly Wiseman's) Memoirs, and I had not forgotten the dishonest and cruel articles filled with extreme brutality that had, during both the fiery youth and calm middle age of the Edinburgh, shamed the literary profession. My response, which was cautious and diplomatic, only prompted a second and more urgent request. Keeping in mind that professional etiquette doesn’t usually allow for public reviews of a book meant solely for private reading, and vividly recalling the malice of that periodical, I replied that I would send the sheets on one condition: that the reviewer wouldn’t linger too fondly or longingly on the "archaics," which had so riled the hypocritical temperament of the prudish Pall Mall Gazette. Mr. Henry Reeve curtly responded that he didn’t dictate to his staff, and I countered by refusing his request. So, he waited until five, meaning half of my volumes had already been sent to subscribers, and took his revenge by giving them for review to the "Lane-Poole" group which, as it turned out, could be as loud and aggressive as 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, Kádee 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, 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 (ætat 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.
For the group had taken full control of The Arabian Nights Entertainments, treating it like a corrupt political stronghold. The "Uncle and Master," Mr. Edward William Lane, the figurehead of the operation, had retranslated some select sections of the collection, and his "nephews" decided to profit off it in private. The book was released in monthly installments priced at two shillings and sixpence (1839-41), and when it was offered for sale as three volumes in royal octavo, the initial print run of 5,000 copies struggled to sell at first until the high price of three pounds and three shillings was dropped to 27 shillings for retailers. Sales then picked up significantly, providing ample returns for both the author and the publishers—Charles Knight and Co. Although some "old Tories" complained about the new-fangled terms (like Wezeer, Kádee, and Jinnee) replacing the familiar Vizier, Cadi, and Genie, nobody criticized the quality of the work because, quite simply, nothing better was available or even desired at the time. Its success was largely due to the "many hundred wood engravings from original designs by William Harvey," which included a variety of unique and intriguing Arabesques, Cufic inscriptions, illustrations, headpieces, and tailpieces. These, aside from some minor extras, were excellent and for the first time, depicted a realistic East rather than the ridiculous portrayals drawn by artists who lacked knowledge and confidence—like Smirke, Deveria, Chasselot, and others—not to mention the dreadful illustrations from the De Sacy edition, which were later used by Prof. Weil and in various Italian versions. Thus, the three hefty and attractive volumes found their way into many drawing rooms in the 1840s, a time when the public was naive enough to celebrate the release of these scattered chapters, believing they finally had the real deal, pure and unfiltered. There were three reprints of the "Standard Edition," in 1859 (with the last in '83), and production eventually ceased not due to the author's death (at age 75; London, August 10, 1876; from Hereford, September 17, 1801), nor because the plates owned by Messieurs Chatto and Windus became too worn for use, but simply due to a lack of demand. The group, represented by the late Edward Lane-Poole in 1879, who edited the last edition (1883) with a preface by Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole, never bothered to correct the numerous errors and shortcomings in the translation throughout its long run of forty-three years. Even the lengthy and tedious notes, which too often merged with The Nights, remained unedited. While valuable and informative on their own, these notes were completely out of place in a folklore collection, where they stood like clutter filled with the translator's research notes. The monographs on details of Arab life were also exploited and reprinted under the absurd title, "Arabian (for Egyptian) Society in the Middle Ages: Studies on The Thousand and One Nights," 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. Goëthe 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."
Eventually, the three volumes became outdated, and the work was officially deemed unreadable. Goethe, observed from a distance by Emerson, had predicted the "inevitable rise of Eastern influence on the West," and the enthusiasm with which Westerners would engage with the languages and literature of the East. Versions like Lane's, which were distorted, incomplete, and lacking authenticity, were seen as remnants of the least deserving. Mr. John Payne (for more about him, see my Foreword, vol. i. pp. xi.-xii.) decided to provide the world with the first true and complete version of the Thousand Nights and a Night. He shared excerpts of his work in the New Quarterly Magazine (January-April, 1879), after which he was immediately attacked by Mr. Reginald Stuart Poole, the leading figure of the monopolists at the time. Poole compiled a list of fifteen errors (which weren’t actually errors) in two Nights, asserting that "they must be multiplied five hundred-fold to reflect the extent we should expect." (The Academy, April 26, 1879; November 29, 1881; and December 7, 1881.) The critic had the audacity, or perhaps the boldness, to criticize Mr. Payne's style and approach, which had rightfully gained fame, and concluded: — "The question of English style can be overlooked for now, as it hardly matters how the results appear if a translator cannot translate. However, one might question whether an Arabic structure should be adorned with old English wallpaper."
Evidently I had scant reason to expect mercy from the clique: I wanted none and I received none.
Clearly, I had little reason to expect kindness from the group: I wanted none and I got none.
My reply to the arch-impostor, who
My response to the ultimate fraud, who
Spreads the light wings of saffron and of blue,
Spreads the bright wings of saffron and 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 même pas mentionné', 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;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-Asnám 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).
will necessarily be somewhat detailed: it’s important to respond paragraph by paragraph, and most of the thirty-three pages refer directly or indirectly to me. To start at the beginning, I, along with many others, was surprised to see "A Thousand and One Nights" excluded from the initial list of thirteen items, as if it were deemed unworthy of mention. My French friend writes, “This article is mainly a rant against Sir Richard Burton’s work, and this book isn’t even mentioned in it.” This action was a clear example of "the impartiality that every reviewer is expected to show." However, the underhanded "little trick" quickly became apparent. The introductory section (p.168) discussing the "Mille et Une Nuits (read Nuit) as an audacious fraud, though still the best storybook in the world," gives us a helpful gauge of the writer's lack of judgment and audacity. The honest and straightforward Galland is here (let’s assume through that pure ignorance that might hope for “fool's pardon”) unfairly and harshly criticized; and to make matters worse, we are told (p. 167) that the Frenchman "brought the Arabic manuscript from Syria"—which is surprising to even the most casual student. "Galland was a natural storyteller, in both good and bad ways" (p. 167) is a ridiculous jab of the true Lane-Poolean type. The critic then quite foolishly compares (p. 168) a passage in Galland (De Sacy edit. vol. i. 414) with one in Mr. Payne's (i. 260) to prove the "extraordinary liberties which the worthy Frenchman allowed himself to take with the Arabic": had he bothered to compare my version (i. 290-291), which is more detailed due to the Breslau Edit. (ii. 190), he would have found that the Frenchman, as was his habit, condensed rather than expanded; although, when the original allowed for a direct translation, he could be quite literal. And what doubt, may I ask, can we have regarding "The Sleeper Awakened" (Lane, ii. 351-376), or, as I refer to it, "The Sleeper and the Waker" (Suppl. vol. i. 1-29), when it appears in a multitude of manuscripts, not to mention the collection of tales that Prof. Habicht compiled into the Arabian Nights by breaking the text into a thousand and one sections (Bresl. Edit. iv. 134-189, Nights cclxxii. ccxci.). The reckless claims that "the whole" of the last fourteen (Gallandian) tales have nothing to do with "The Nights" (p. 168); and that the stories of Zayn al-Asnám and Aladdin, "it is abundantly certain that they belong to no manuscript of the Thousand and One Nights" (p. 169), have been notably disproven by M. Hermann Zotenberg's acquisition of two volumes that contain both these long-contested tales. See Foreword to my Suppl. vol. iii. pp. viii.-xi., and Mr. W. F. Kirby's interesting notice of M. Zotenberg's groundbreaking 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 suprà, 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!
"The first English edition was published (according to Lowndes) within eight years of Galland's" (p. 170) is simply inaccurate. The second part of Galland (6 vols. 12 mo) wasn't released until 1717, which is two years after the translator's death. The critic doesn't mention anything about the English first edition, and honestly, no one has been able to shed light on it so far. Regarding the disgraceful claim (let's hope it was made out of sheer ignorance) about "Cazotte's blatant forgery" (p. 170), which tarnishes the reputation of Jacques Cazotte, one of the most honorable and virtuous individuals in literature, I addressed that in the Foreword to my Supplemental vol. vi. "This edition (Scott's) was elegantly reprinted by Messrs. Nimmo and Bain in four volumes in 1883" (p. 170). But why hasn't the reader been informed that the etchings are by Lalauze (see above, p. 326), numbering 19, and derived from the 21 illustrations in M. Jouaust's edition of Galland with a preface by J. Janin? Why didn't the critic mention that Scott's sixth volume, the only original part of the work, was intentionally left out? This paragraph concludes with a reference to the work of Baron von Hammer-Purgstall, about whom we are later informed (p. 186) for the first time that he "was brilliant and laborious." Hard-working, yes! Brilliant, not at all!
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.
We now turn to the glorification of the "Uncle and Master," about whom I can only say that Lane's fiercest enemy (if the kind Orientalist ever had one) couldn't have discredited him more than this foolish friend did. "His classical(!) translation was immediately recognized as a completely new direction" (p. 171), and "it was written in such a way that the Oriental tone of The Nights would be reflected in English" (ibid.). "It aims to reproduce, to some extent, the literary flavor of the original" (p. 173). "The style of Lane's translation is somewhat old-fashioned, akin to Biblical language" (p. 173), and "it is precisely this outdated ring" (of the imperfect and mutilated "Boulak edition," which the translator unwisely preferred) "that Lane has managed to preserve." "The measured and polished language Lane selected for his version is particularly suited to represent the rhythmic nature of the Arab" (Memoir, p. xxvii.). "The translation itself is notable for its unique accuracy and the wonderful way in which it maintains the Oriental tone and color" (ibid.). The writer has barely taken the time to understand me when he claims that the Bulak edition was my text, and I can point him to my Foreword (vol. i. p. xvii.) for his own benefit, which he has willfully ignored and misrepresented. I readily admit guilt before the accusation of "truly misunderstanding the design of Lane's style" (p. 173). Much can be forgiven to the supporter and the praised; however, the notion of mentioning Biblical English, the noblest and most perfect example of our prose, alongside the stiff, bald, vapid, and turgid manner of the Orientalist who "commences" and "concludes"—never truly begins or ends, who avoids short words for longer ones, who consistently dismisses concise and idiomatic Anglo-Saxon in favor of Latin, and whose pompous, stilted sentences exemplify the "Deadly-lively"! Similar methods led the learned George Sale to render the Koran, that pure and spontaneous inspiration of Arabian eloquence, as dull as a legal document, paving the way for the Rev. Mr. Rodwell. I tried to justify Lane's stylistic shortcomings by noting the lack of serious study in English linguistics that marked the late 18th century and the early 19th century, a time when many, disdainful of their own grammar, learned it from Latin and Greek; when not a few called Shakespeare "silly-billy," and when Lamb the essayist wrote, "I can read, and I say it seriously, the simple old version of the Psalms for an hour or two sometimes, without feeling bored." But the reviewer won't accept my attempt at justification; he is surprised by my "posing as a judge of prose style," knowing "my quirky distortions of the English language" (p. 173) and, when countering my sweeping claim that "our prose" (especially that of schoolteachers and professors, scholars, and Orientalists) "was perhaps the worst in Europe," he triumphantly quotes half a dozen great exceptions that only serve to reinforce 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'umán (occupying 371 pages in my vols. ii. and iii.); Abú Hasan and his slave-girl Tawaddud (pp. 56, vol. v. 189-245), the Queen of the Serpents with the episodes of Bulukiyá and of Jánshah (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.
As for Lane's unjustifiable cuts, the straightforward writer tells us everything except the truth. As I've mentioned before (vol. ix. 304), the main reason was simply that the publisher, who was definitely not a business person, found the work extending beyond his limits and insisted it come to an early and, unfortunately, an incomplete end. This is likely the main reason for the exclusion of the longer stories, like King Omar bin al-Nu'umán (which takes up 371 pages in my vols. ii. and iii.); Abu Hasan and his slave-girl Tawaddud (pp. 56, vol. v. 189-245); the Queen of the Serpents with the tales of Bulukiyá and Jánshah (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) was certainly not left out due to any concerns of delicacy, nor is it true in general that "none could be purified without being destroyed" regarding the omitted parts. As my French friend notes, "Few parts are as straightforward as the introduction, le cadre de l'ouvrage, yet M. Lane was not deterred by such a situation." Lastly, among the unnecessary cuts, we have King Jali'ad of Hind, etc. (pp. 102, vol. ix. 32-134). The total adds up to 701 pages, while quite a few of the notes are filled with trivial 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'être 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).
But the critic has been hugely misleading, either intentionally or out of ignorance in his calculations. "There are over four hundred of these (anecdotes, fables, and stories) in the complete text, and Lane has translated no more than two hundred" (p. 172). * * * "When you add the missing anecdotes to the missing tales, it turns out that Lane omitted about a third of the whore 'Nights,' and of that third, at least three-fourths was not suitable for a popular edition. When Mr. Payne and Captain Burton brag about presenting the public 'with three times as much material as any other version,' they might actually mean a third more" (p. 173). * * * "Captain Burton expresses his view that Lane has 'omitted half and by far the more characteristic half of the Arabian Nights,' but Captain Burton has a knack for exaggeration, and instead of 'characteristic,' we should read 'unclear.' It's natural for him to highlight such omissions since they are the foundation of his own translation; but he's greatly overstepped, and the public can be assured that the stories left out of the standard version (proh pudor!) are of very little importance compared to the stories included in it" (p. 173).
What a mass of false statement!
What a load of lies!
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.
Let’s now switch from fiction to fact. Lane's three volumes contain a total of 1,995 pages, after deducting 15 for the index (that’s 618 + 643 + 734). Each full page of text averages 38 lines, while the notes (in smaller font) average 48 lines. The text, which includes several illustrations, totals 1,485 pages (that's 441 + 449 + 595). Mr. Payne's nine volumes add up to 3,057 pages, mostly continuous, compared to the 1,485 in the "Standard edition." In my version, the total number of pages, with each page having 41 lines, is 3,156, which is 1,163 more than Lane’s total and 2,671 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-Mausilí (pp. 223-24), the Tale of Caliph Mu'áwiyah (i. pp. 521-22), the Tale of Mukhárik 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 "Kitáb al-Unwán fí Makáid al-Niswán," 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 266.449 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."
Again, in Lane's text, there are 62 tales (which is 35 + 14 + 13), and as mentioned, all the longest ones have been left out, except for Sindbad the Seaman. The anecdotes in the notes add up to 44 1/2 (which is 3 1/2 + 35 + 6): these mostly consist of mere outlines and include the 3 1/2 from volume i, specifically the Tale of Ibrahim al-Mausilí (pp. 223-24), the Tale of Caliph Mu'áwiyah (i. pp. 521-22), the Tale of Mukhárik the Musician (i. pp. 224-26), and the half tale of Umm 'Amr (i. p. 522). They are quoted directly from "Halbat al-Kumayt" and "Kitáb al-Unwán fí Makáid al-Niswán," indicating that at the early stage of his work, the translator, who published in parts, had not read the book he was working on; or at least, he had not realized that all three and a half tales had been taken from The Nights. So the grand total is 106 1/2 tales, and the reader will notice the discrepancy between 106 1/2 and the reviewer’s claim of "not much more than two hundred." In my version, the main tales total 171; the secondary ones, etc., add up to 96, making a total of 267, while Mr. Payne lists 266. And the critic exaggerates this to "over four hundred!" This means I have more than double the number of pages in Lane's text (taking into account the difference between his 38 lines on a often-split page and my 41) and nearly two and a half tales for every one of his, so I certainly don't 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).
Thus, we can also address the false claims about Lane's translation "not being completely accurate" (p. 171) and that "no one wanted to have the objectionable sections that made up most of Lane's omissions put back into 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 Philæ 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. 450
The critic now turns to The Uncle's ability to handle the task, which he greatly overstates. Mr. Lane had no real understanding of "Muslim life" (p. 174). His "Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians" should have been called "Modern Cairenes;" he had only seen a limited part of Nile-land during a trip to Philæ on his first visit (1825-28) and another trip to Thebes on his second. He was largely unaware of Egypt in general, and even in Cairo, he knew nothing about the lives of women and children—two-thirds of humanity. I question whether he could grasp even the simplest baby talk, not to mention the many idioms specific to the Harem nursery. The hallmark of his work is its warmth mixed with genuine affection for the subject, but no scholar can overlook its painful superficiality. His studies in legal theology gave him some credibility with the Olema, but at the time he translated The Nights, his knowledge of Arabic was limited. This explains the many lapses that mar his work. These might have been excusable for an Orientalist working outside of Egypt, but Lane always had a Shaykh at his side and could easily call on the help of Al-Azhar University Mosque. I don’t need to take on the unpleasant task of listing these errors, especially since the most obvious ones have been briefly noted in my volumes. After leaving Egypt, Mr. Lane became one of the best Arabic scholars of his time, but his success didn’t match his talents. The Lexicon is a great work, although unfortunately lacking in critical insight, but after thirty-four years of effort (it started printing in 1863), it only reached the 19th letter Ghayn (p. 2386). Then inauspicious Fate placed it in the hands of Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole. With typical boldness, he chose not to enlist the help of any German professor—an academic type who rarely socializes and cares little for "Society," allowing them to focus entirely on their work. Perhaps he bought into the ridiculous stereotype of Germans being overly detailed and trivial in their research compared to "good old English breadth and insight." The result has been a "continuation" that serves as a benchmark to evaluate the quality of the original work and the striking decline and shortcomings of the follow-up—the latter keeping nothing of the former except for the covers. 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 indirect."
I've always spoken highly of Mr. Lane's Notes: they are excellent but oddly placed—this was not their intended spot. The content of a storybook is too delicate to handle such a heavy load of classical Arabian knowledge, and the notes disrupt the book's balance as a work of art. They start off with excessive detail: in the Introduction, these studies fill 27 densely printed pages compared to 14 pages of text, which is interrupted by cuts and illustrations. In chapter i, the ratio is 20 pages of notes to 15 pages of text, and in chapter ii, it's 20 pages of notes to 35 pages of text. Then, under the publisher's request, they become beautifully less; and in volume iii, chapter 30 (the last), it's 5 pages of notes to 57 pages of text. Long discussions like "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 of which are added to the Introduction and the first chapter, are merely appetizers; this "material" should have been saved for another edition of "The Modern Egyptians." The decision to use chapters instead of Nights was misguided, but it seems minor compared to condensing the tales into a commentary, effectively turning the Arabian Nights into Arabian Notes. However, "Arabian Society in the Middle Ages," a legacy from the "Uncle and Master," and like the tame and insufficient "Selections from the Koran," used by the grand-nephew, has been useful for the Edinburgh. Also, since it appears three separate times in one article (pp. 166, 174, and 183), we can only assume that one of the main purposes of the critique was to promote the volume. People are clever these days when it comes to practicing "indirect promotion."
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-Ziyádi 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'ád 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.
But the main issue with Lane's work is what it leaves out. The partial Reviewer states (pp. 174-75) that the Arabist "retranslated The Nights in a practical way, leaving out what was objectionable, along with a few stories(!) that were overall uninteresting or repetitive, and enhanced the work with a wealth of valuable notes. We now had an academic version of most of The Nights filled with Eastern spirit and rich in illustrative commentary; for forty years, no one thought of anything more, even though Galland still had a firm grip on the nursery." Despite this flimsy excuse, the critic reluctantly admits (p. 172), "We are not sure that some of these omissions were not a mistake;" and he notes "Abdallah the Son of Fazil" and "Abu'l-Hasan of Khorasan" (I suppose he means Abu Hasan al-Ziyádi and the Khorasani Man, iv. 285), while he suggests "a careful abridgment of the story of Omar the Son of No'man" (ii. 7, etc.). Let me also mention the wittiest and most playful of Rabelaisian sketches, "All the Persian and the Kurd Sharper" (iv. 149), cut out in sheer "respectability;" and the classical series, an Arabian "Pilpay," titled "King Jali'ád of Hind and his Wazir Shimas" (iv. 32). I must also point out the significant loss to the work that destroyed half the "spirit of the East." Mr. Lane had no talent for verse or rhyme: he must have known that the ten thousand lines of the original Nights provided a striking and necessary contrast to the narrative part, serving as an aria to recitative. Yet he translated them only into the dullest and most prosaic English, lacking even the balanced style of the French translations. He can only be forgiven for one reason—bad prose isn't as 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!
The misguided over-praise for Mr. Lane is followed (p. 176) by the criticism and belittling of Mr. John Payne, who was the first to reveal what The Nights really is. We hear that the author (like myself) "unfortunately did not know Arabic," and we're not told that he is a competent Persian scholar. However, "he undoubtedly managed to pick up enough of the language(!) to understand The Arabian Nights with the aid of earlier translations by Torrens and Lane," though Torrens published only one volume out of about fifteen. This critic chooses to overlook Mr. R. S. Poole's "old English wall-papers," and indeed grants the translator of Villon a "genius for language," praising his "singularly robust and masculine prose, which for the current purpose he intentionally loaded with archaisms and outdated words but without significantly diminishing its impact or brilliance" (p. 177). With seeming honesty, he admits that the version "is a fine piece of English; it is also, except where the demands of rhyme required some looseness, remarkably literal" (p. 178). Thus, the author receives tepid praise from someone who completely fails to recognize the significant difference between linguistic genius and mediocrity. The Reviewer goes on, "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 that are shared by both, and is practically as close a rendering as is desirable" (p. 178). Speak the truth, man, and shame the Devil! I assert, and I'm ready to back it up, that the "Villon version" is incomparably better than Lane's, not just in its simple, clear, and powerful English but also in its literal and absolute accuracy, being almost entirely free from the mistakes and inaccuracies that plague Torrens and are rarely absent from Lane. I also repeat that in the areas where the style and subject are the hardest to tackle, Mr. Payne emerges most successfully from the challenge, providing the best evidence of his genius and dedication. Regarding the metrical aspect, which makes the Villon version as superior to Lane's as virgin gold is to German silver, the critique offers only three insufficient examples that were specifically selected, coupled with a complaint that "the verse is nothing remarkable" (p. 177) and that the author is sometimes "led into excessive liberties with the original" (ibid.). Not a word of praise for mastering the immense challenges 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 facetiæ'" (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). 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—and there’s a remarkable power in this word—Mr. Payne's work is "restricted to the few wealthy collectors of banned books and what booksellers' catalogs describe as facetiæ" (p. 179); for "when an Arabic word is unknown to the literary language" (what utter nonsense!), "and belongs only to the low vocabulary of the gutter" (which even the most "elegant" writers use freely), "Mr. Payne painstakingly finds a corresponding term in English 'Billingsgate,' and takes pride in accurately reproducing the feel of the original" (p. 178). This is a remarkable distortion of the truth. Mr. Payne persisted, despite my numerous protests, in translating the "nursery words" and the "terms that clearly describe natural situations" using old English words like "kaze" and "swive," which are similarly ignored by both the "gutter" and "Billingsgate": he also left out any offensive lines whenever they didn’t appear in all the texts and could be honestly left untranslated. But the falsehood is stated for a reason: here the Reviewer climbs onto their high horse and acts as the moral authority par excellence. The Battle of the Books has often been fought, the crude text versus the bowdlerized and the expurgated; and our critic can contribute to the great debate only the most basic platitudes. "There is an old and reliable saying that 'bad communications corrupt good manners,' and it is a well-known fact that discussing and reading depraved literature leads (sic) inevitably to the corruption of the reader's mind" (p. 179). 451 I would argue that the childish indecencies and the unnatural vice of the original cannot corrupt any mind except one that is already primed for corruption; the former would only spark curiosity and amusement at how bearded men are such mere children, while the latter would evoke far more disgust than desire. One must be as prurient and lecherous as a dog-faced baboon in heat to feel any passion stirred by either. And the conclusion is particularly foolish: "As long as Mr. Payne's translation remains tainted by words, sentences, and entire paragraphs describing coarse and often horribly depraved sensuality, it can never stand alongside Lane's, which still remains the standard version of the Arabian Nights" (p. 179). Not at all! No one knows better than the group that Lane, after a somewhat artificially prolonged life of about half a century, has finally been measured and found lacking; that he is experiencing that second death which awaits the unsatisfactory worker and that his Arabian Nights are being discarded by the current generation into the void 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.
But if Mr. Payne is criticized with faint praise and false modesty, my version is completely condemned—without any chance of redemption: there’s not a single word in support of a work that has been met with a chorus of positive reviews. "The critical response starts with a strong hit." "Another complete translation is now being released in a sneaky way" (p. 179). How "sneaky," I ask this writer, who compensates for a lack of reason with excessive criticism, when I sent out around 24,000—30,000 ads and published my project in the literary newspapers? "The friendliness of the two translators (Payne and Burton) is shown by each dedicating a volume to the other. As far as the authors are concerned, nothing could be more harmonious and delightful; but the public naturally asks, what do we need with two forbidden versions?" And I once again ask, what can I do to satisfy this cranky and ill-tempered critic? Had I not mentioned Mr. Payne, my silence would have been seen as envy, hatred, and malice: if I’m proud to acknowledge my friend’s great work, that action earns a spiteful sneer. Regarding the "need," public demand is easily proven. It’s widely known (except to the Reviewer who will remain ignorant) that Mr. Payne, who printed only 500 copies, had to turn down many hundreds of would-be subscribers; and when my plan was made public by the press, these and others immediately came to me. "To issue a thousand even more controversial copies by another, and not a better, hand" (notice the italicized jab!) may "seem ridiculous" (p. 180), but only to a writer as "ridiculous" 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'établir un texte d'après différents manuscrits, il est certain qu'il faut prendre pour base une-seule redaction. Mais il n'est pas de même d'une traduction. Il est conforme aux règles de la saine critique littéraire, 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" 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.
A careful (again!) look at Captain Burton's translation shows that he hasn’t really corrected it to match the Calcutta text like he claims. Instead, he has mixed together various texts, picking one or another—Cairo, Breslau, Macnaghten, or the first Calcutta version—depending on which had the most 'characteristic' details (note the jab at the side here), in which Captain Burton's version is particularly strong (p. 180). So after all the hard work of comparing the four published texts and filling in the obvious gaps that each one has, resulting in a complete version of the Recueil, I end up with nothing but criticism. My French friend writes to me: "When it comes to establishing a text based on different manuscripts, it's clear that you need to base it on a single version. But it's different for a translation. According to the principles of sound literary criticism, you should follow all the texts." Lane, I repeat, settled for the incomplete Bulak text, while Payne and I opted for the Macnaghten Edition which, the Reviewer incorrectly claims, is “really just a revised version of the Cairo text” 452 (ibid.). He wraps up by making me look ignorant, asserting that I’m unaware of the history of the manuscript from which the four-volume Calcutta Edition was printed (ibid.). I would actually be grateful to him if he could tell me what happened to it: I’ve traced it to Messieurs Allen and have unsuccessfully consulted Mr. Johnston, who runs the business under the name of that now-defunct house. The manuscript has completely vanished.
"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 readable.
"On the other hand, he (Captain Burton) sometimes leaves out parts he thinks are redundant, which takes away from the completeness of his version (e.g., vol. v. p. 327). It's unnecessary to point out that this uncertainty about the text undermines the scholarly value of the translation" (p. 180). The writer conveniently forgets to mention that I have always noted these removed sections, which are just pointless repetitions, frustrating reiterations of a story told twice, or even three times, and that I follow the important principle—in translating a work of imagination and "bringing to life" an Oriental tale, the writer's main responsibility to readers is to make the pages enjoyable to read.
"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 "Akhlák-í wa Síratí" (sing. of Siyar) by caractère 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 Ráwí 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 Ráwí? Again I render "Mal'únah" (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 interpretation is sometimes quite loose" (p.180), says the critic who references five examples from five volumes and could have cited five hundred. This is another common tactic of the deceitful reviewer, who loves to pull out words, phrases, and texts out of context. A translator often has to avoid repetitions that no English audience could tolerate by replacing a word, whose literal and appropriate meaning he has already provided, with a synonym or a homonym that is neither as adequate nor as satisfying. He accuses me of translating "Siyar," which means 'doings,' as 'works and words'; not realizing that the seasoned Orientalist, M. Joseph Derenbourgh (p. 98, Johannes de Capua, Directorium, etc.), translates "Akhlák-í wa Síratí" (sing. of Siyar) as caractère et conducte, the latter encompassing actions and speech. He criticizes "Kabir" (lit. = old) being translated as very old; yet this would be its true meaning if the Ráwí or storyteller were to emphasize the word, as I presume he has here. But what does the Edinburgh know about the Ráwí? Again, I translate "Mal'únah" (not the mangled Mal'ouna) lit. = accurst, as "damned whore," which I believe is justified when the version is in the straightforward style of 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.
"Captain Burton's Arabian Nights has another flaw besides the textual inaccuracies" (p. 180); this leads to a whole page of harsh criticism about my vocabulary: the reviewer has gathered about thirty examples—he could have found three hundred from the five volumes—and concludes that the list puts Captain Burton's version "completely outside the category of English books" (p. 181) and is "extremely annoying to anyone with a sense of style." He must know a lot about modern literary taste, which encourages the translator of an ancient work like Mr. Gibb's Aucassin and Nicolette (I mention just one of many) to capture the charm of the past by mimicking the lively and expressive language of the pre-Elizabethan and Shakespearean eras. If he compares any single page of Mr. Payne's work with those of Messieurs Torrens and Lane, he will see the difference clearly. But a purist who objects so strongly to archaism and archaic terms should avoid phrases like "whilom Persian Secretary" (p. 170); as well as anthophobia, which he defines as "dread of selecting only what is best" (p. 175), anthophobist (p. 176); "fatuous ejaculations" (p. 183), "raconteur" (p. 186), and "intermedium" (p. 194) - terms that are certainly not understood by the general public. Here is a list of six in thirty-three pages:—clearly, 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 Jánsháh). 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."
"Here’s an example of Captain Burton’s verse, which also shows how careless the proof corrections have been" (p. 181). It’s generous and fair to critique a work printed from overseas when the author couldn't revise it, but it’s also completely unjust. And what does the critic do? He points out two different misprints in his 33 pages: "Mr. Payne, vol. ix. p. 274" (p. 168, instead of vol. i. 260) and "Jamshah" (p. 172, instead of Jánsháh). These mistakes might not excuse my errors, but I can call upon the Saturday Review—experts at harsh criticism—which, when reviewing my first two volumes (Jan. 2, 1886), stated they were "commendably 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 Ráwí 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 Rabábah 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 "Gulistán." 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.
"Captain Burton’s enthusiasm for pushing the language to its limits finds ample opportunity when he encounters those sections in the original that are written in rhyming prose" (p. 181). "Of course, Captain Burton couldn’t pass up such a chance to showcase his linguistic creativity, similar to 'Peter Parley picked a peck of pickled peppers'” (p. 182, where the Saj'a or prose rhyme is often mistakenly confused with our unique use of alliteration). But this misrepresents the issue. Let me reiterate my belief (Terminal Essay, 144-145) that The Nights, in its current form, was meant as a text or guide for the Ráwí or professional storyteller, who would perform the recitative in a quasi-conversational tone, recite the Saj'a, and chant the metrical sections to the twang of the Rabábah or one-stringed instrument. The Reviewer claims that the original contains many such passages; however, why does he not inform the reader that almost the entire Koran, as well as all classical Arab prose, is made up of such "jingle"? "Doubtfully pleasing in Arabic," it may "sound the opposite of melodious in our own language" (p. 282); yet no one criticizes it in earlier English authors (Terminal Essay, p. 220), and all praised its abundant use in Eastwick's "Gulistán." Torrens, Lane, and Payne intentionally omitted it, each for their own reasons; Torrens because he never considered applying it, Lane because his limited knowledge of English hindered him, and Payne because he aimed for a strictly classical style, which would only lose grace, vigor, and harmony with such exotic embellishments. In these matters, every writer has an undeniable right to pursue their own vision, keeping in mind that it’s impossible to please everyone. I imitated the Saj'a because I believed it was a vital part of the work, and out of my fifty reviewers, only the Edinburgh thought that reproducing the original style was anything but successful. I only wish to satisfy those whose opinions matter: "the abuse and contempt of ignorant writers affects me very little," as Darwin says (iii. 88), and we all agree with Don Quixote that it is better to be praised by a few wise people than mocked by many fools.
"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 Tawíl or long measure (ibid. pp. 242, 255), which Mr. Lyall (Translations of Ancient Arab. Poetry, p. xix.) compares with "Abt Vogler,"
"This amusement (of reproducing the Saj'a) can be taken to any extent (how?), and we don’t understand why Captain Burton ignores the meter of the poetry, separates his translation into sentences with pauses, or allows any breaks in the flow of the narrative, since there are none in the Arabic" (p. 182). My response is that I focus on the original meters first and foremost because I don't want to "dance in chains," as Drummond of Hawthornden put it; and, secondly, because many of them are unfamiliar and thus unpleasant to English speakers. The exceptions are mostly two: the Rajaz (Anapaests and Iambs, Terminal Essay, x. 253) and the Tawíl 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.
And there! you have heard and seen: think about it and bow your 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 monotonous.
This meter is far more common than all the others in The Nights; however, its rhythmic style doesn't fit every theme, and in English, it can easily become repetitive.
"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":—
"The following example of a literal translation Mr. Payne mentions (vol. ix. 381: compare my vol. v. 66) to demonstrate the challenges of translating the original's phrasing into good English should have served as a model for Captain Burton, and we are surprised he didn’t adopt such an elegantly intricate style" (p. 102). I will quote the entire passage in question and show that with just a few minor changes, omissions, and rearrangements, without losing a single word, the whole can become excellent English, far surpassing the Reviewer's style in terms of “awkwardness”:—
"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).
"When morning broke, he dipped his feet in the water they had squeezed from the herb and, heading down to the sea, began walking for days and nights, marveling at the horrors and wonders of the ocean. He didn't stop traveling across the water until he reached an island that truly seemed like Paradise. Bulukiya climbed onto it and was awestruck by its beauty; he discovered it was a vast island with saffron dust and gravel made of carnelian and precious stones. Its edges were lined with jasmine, and it boasted the finest trees, the brightest fragrant herbs, and the sweetest of all. Streams flowed abundantly; the brushwood included Comorin aloe and Sumatran lign-aloes; sugar-canes grew as reeds, and all around bloomed roses, narcissus, amaranth, gillyflower, chamomile, lily, and violet, each in various kinds and colors. Birds sang among the trees, and the entire island was beautiful and spacious, overflowing with good things, embodying all that is lovely and enchanting." 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 original.
The Reviewer includes in his list, but clearly has not read, the "Tales from the Arabic," etc., published as a follow-up to The Nights, or he would have realized that Mr. Payne, for the second part of his work, intentionally chose a style as literal as the one mentioned above because it was the most vibrant representation of the original.
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'être 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 mediæval 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.453
We now come to the important issue of my version, which includes annotations that this "decent gentleman," as I imagine this critic would call himself (p. 185), uses to vent his criticisms. But before diving into that topic, I must reiterate a story I've told before and once again explain the reason behind my extensive work. When a friend asked me directly why I was releasing my translation so soon after another scholarly version, I replied, "Several students of Orientalism have told me they want the work in its rawest and most realistic form. I've received letters asking us (you who can) to reveal what the Arab of The Nights was like: if he was good and noble, let's see him; if he was witty and humorous, let’s hear him; if he was crude, uncultured, rude, childish, and indecent, then we still want him as he is. We want the real person for a change. We want a medieval Arab sharing the tales and traditions with the songs and legends of his own land in his own way, showing the world who he is and how he has survived to this day, while we in the West have advanced in culture and refinement. Above all, give us the straightforward and unrefined language of the original—such a contrast to today’s English—and show us, alongside those childish elements, the accumulated wit and wisdom, life experience and knowledge of an ancient race. We also want the format of the Recueil, its division into nights, its monorhyme, in fact everything that gives it style and character." Now, I could only satisfy this legitimate desire through annotations, by providing a running commentary that allows the reader to read between the lines and grasp hints and implications that would otherwise go unnoticed. I decided that subscribers should find in my book something that isn't present in any other version, making it a repository of Eastern knowledge in its deeper aspects, intended not for the masses but solely for those who are not too wise to learn or so ignorant as to ignore their own ignorance. I regretted having to display the raw and brutal vices of the original in the few places where obscenity is rampant, but I felt it was my duty to translate the text word for word instead of distorting it through omission and censorship. My translation (I promised) would be something new, entirely different from all other versions, leaving very little for any future interpreter. 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 Abú Nowás and the Curé 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!
And I decided that if the spiteful charity and the extreme anti-pornography suggestions from certain people in the press went through, I would show up in court holding my version of The Nights in one hand and the Bible (especially the Old Testament, a freely translated ancient work) and Shakespeare in the other, with Petronius Arbiter and Rabelais for backup. The first two are printed by the millions; they end up in the hands of children, and they are the twin pillars that support the meager structure of our common home reading. The Arbiter is as outrageous as Abú Nowás, and the Curé of Meudon is exceptional in what seems unclean to the naked eye but not to the insightful one. Yet both have been translated faithfully by respected Englishmen and gentlemen, and they have been published as an "extra series" by Mr. Bohn's reputable firm and solely by Messieurs Bell and Daldy. If The Nights are going to be censored for students, I ask again, why not censor Plato and Juvenal, the Romances of the Middle Ages, Boccaccio and Petrarch, and all the Elizabethan dramatists? What hypocrisy to rant about The Nights in the face of such achievements of the Natural! How ridiculous to swallow such camels and choke on a gnat!
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 dévergondage; 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 I had another goal while creating the notes—a Repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric form (Foreword, p. xvii.). Since I couldn’t get the Anthropological Society to break free from the chains of shame and the fake modesty that forces travelers and ethnology students to stay quiet about one side of human nature (the most fascinating one at that), I decided to fill that gap in these pages. Today's England seems eager to raise both genders and keep everyone clueless about sexual and intersexual relationships, and the fallout from this foolishness is particularly harsh and painful. How often do we hear women in Society complaining that they have no knowledge of their own biology? And what a heavy price do young people pay for this ignorance as they begin their lives. Will we ever realize that ignorance isn’t the same as innocence? How absurd is it that a veteran officer, who's spent twenty-five years in the East, hasn’t learned that all Muslim women undergo circumcision, has no idea how female circumcision is performed, doesn’t know the differences between the Jewish and the Muslim practices for males, is clueless about the Armenian method of concealing the cutting, and has no theoretical understanding of the mental and spiritual impact of the operation? So, where is the shame in teaching what it’s shameful not to know? But the extreme delicacy and squeamishness of an era that is by no means purer or more virtuous than its coarser predecessors has become ridiculous. Let’s look at what the modern English woman and her Anglo-American counterpart have turned into under this false modesty that too often masks real debauchery; and how Respectability distorts what Nature intended. She has feet but no "toes"; ankles but no "calves"; knees but no "thighs"; a stomach but no "belly" or "bowels"; a heart but no "bladder" or "groin"; a liver but no "kidneys"; hips but no "haunches"; a bust but no "backside" or "buttocks": in fact, she is a monstrosity, a figure fit only to scare 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.
But the Edinburgh has no clue about these things, and the "decent gentleman," like the lady who protests too much, keeps his focus on just one side of the shield. Probably no European has ever compiled such a shocking collection of degrading customs and statistics of vice as what's found in Captain Burton's translation of the 'Arabian Nights' (p. 185). He sees in Mr. Payne’s case, like I do, "no adequate justification for flooding the world (!) with an ocean of filth" (ibid.), showing that he can also be, as the master of catchphrases, "an interested rhetorician inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity." But hear the other side—my perspective on the issue. I have no apologies to make for the details provided to students of Muslim customs, as they will find much to learn and even more that highlights the need for education. I am in no way ashamed to lecture on these specialized topics, which are crucial to humanity, especially when their absence from modern novels casts an even darker shadow over the darker aspects of human nature. In fact, I take pride in doing this despite silly prejudices and pathetic hypocrisy, and I see myself as a public benefactor. I truly consider my work a legacy left to my fellow countrymen at a critical moment when England, the most powerful of Muslim nations, is tasked with administering Egypt as well as ruling India without adequate knowledge of the Muslim's inner life. While the self-righteous and narrow-minded might be "shocked" and "horrified" by my writings, I believe the common sense of the public, which is gradually freeing itself from the prudish and prurient taboos, and the false modesties of the early 19th century, will eventually give me the recognition I deserve.
In p. 184 the Reviewer sneers at me for writing "Roum" in lieu of Rum or Rúm; 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.
In p. 184, the Reviewer mocks me for using "Roum" instead of Rum or Rúm; but what would the latter have meant to the average reader except a reference to the Jamaican drink? He also corrects me (vol. v. 248) regarding the late Mr. Emanuel Deutsch (p. 184), who removed "our Saviour" from the article on the Talmud included in his literary works. I must admit, the Reviewer, or whoever inspired the Review, knew more about Mr. Deutsch than I, as a mere acquaintance, could know; but perhaps he doesn't know everything, and if he did, he probably wouldn't share it. The truth is that Mr. Deutsch, in his younger years, was quite liberal, even a latitudinarian in his beliefs, not unlike the so-called "Christian Unitarian." However, as his health declined and he traveled to Egypt, he became (and all credit to him!) a meticulous and somewhat fanatical Hebrew of the Hebrews; he mainly associated with the followers and religious leaders of his own faith, and it's said that he instructed that, when he was dying, he should be taken out of bed and placed on the bare floor. The term "Saviour" in the article was likely written during his earlier religious views and was removed as his end approached.
"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 níst"—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 Mazanderán, 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 Afghanistán during its ill-judged occupation by Lord Auckland, and Sind after the conquest by Sir Charles Napier.
"Captain Burton's experiences in the East seem to have wiped out any sense of chivalry, as he never hesitates to write negative assessments of women and seems to take pleasure in finding proof of 'feminine devilry' (p. 184). This argument against women is a sharp practice, much like what the Christian 'Fathers of the Church' did when they, doubtfully regarding the existence of non-masculine souls, mistakenly and foolishly attributed the theory and its consequences to Mohammed and Muslims. The Persian proverb applies here: 'Harf-i-kufr kufr níst'—to talk about blasphemy isn’t itself blasphemous. Curious readers can check out the article 'Woman' in my Terminal Essay (x. 167), which alone disproves this ridiculous scandal. I never claimed to understand women, and, as Balzac says, it’s no surprise that men fail when the Creator of women wasn’t entirely successful. But in The Nights, we primarily encounter Egyptian girls, married women, and widows, about whose 'devilry' I can’t speak highly enough; even the prudish Lane is as outspoken as I am on this matter. Like the inhabitants of warm, humid lowlands and river valleys near rugged, healthy uplands such as Mazanderán, Sind, Malabar, and California, the passions and sexual drives of females significantly surpass those of males, leading to a notable rise in the crude form of polyandry often referred to as whoredom. Moreover, the women of the Nile Valley haven't fared better under our rule. The last time I visited Cairo, a loud and burly Fellah girl threatened one morning, in a brand-new French avenue off the Ezbekiyah Gardens, to expose herself unless paid off with a piastre. Overall, the state of women throughout the Nile Valley reminded me of the wild debauchery that marked Afghanistan during its poorly managed occupation by Lord Auckland, and Sind after Sir Charles Napier's conquest."
"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 Bibliothéque 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 Palæographical 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 Palmer454, Halevy, Robertson Smith, Doughty and Euting have changed all that, and Herr Eduard Glaser of Prague is now bringing back from Sana'á some 390 Sabaean epigraphs—a mass of new-old literature.
"Captain Burton actually relies on the respectable and old-fashioned D'Herbelot for his information" (p. 184). This ridiculous mockery of the two great French Orientalists, D'Herbelot and Galland, really reflects a group that, no matter how much they promote themselves, can never achieve even a fraction of the valuable work found in the Bibliothéque Orientale. The book was published in an incomplete form; in many aspects, it has been overshadowed over its century-and-a-half lifespan by modern research, but it remains a treasure trove of information, and a revised edition would be a great help to students. Furthermore, I have consulted Prof. Palmer's work and the publications of the Palæographical Society (p. 184); however, I can’t find any evidence that the Naskhi script (vol. i. 128) predates the Cufic, which is viewed by many ordinary Muslims similarly to how blackletter is seen in Europe. Yet, Semitic epigraphy is just beginning to enter its second phase of study, the first being merely tentative and uninformed: around 80 years ago, the renowned De Sacy demonstrated in a scholarly paper that there were no written letters in Arabia before the time of Mohammed. But Palmer, Halevy, Robertson Smith, Doughty, and Euting have changed all that, and Herr Eduard Glaser of Prague is now bringing back from Sana'á around 390 Sabaean inscriptions—a wealth 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-Makrízí, 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 Collége 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)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'"?
And now, after reviewing everything and being quite shocked by the "over-the-top claims of the complete translations compared to the Standard Version"—a term that really only fits the Editio princeps, 3 vols. 8vo—the Edinburgh offers a final and insulting jab. "Each version has its specific purpose—Galland for kids, Lane for the library, Payne for the study, and Burton for the gutters" (p. 184). I barely need to stress the ultimate and well-deserved aim of his article: the bitterness in that ink might hygienically outperform even the best "curl-papers." Then our critic moves on to the history of the work, which doesn’t need much mention: it’s mostly copied from Lane's Preface (pp. ix. xv.) and his Terminal Review (iii. 735-47) with a few trivial and uninteresting details taken from Al-Makrízí, and likely from the studies of the late Rogers Bey (pp. 191-92). Here, the admiration for the Uncle and Master becomes quite excessive. "It was Lane who first highlighted the importance of the 'Arabian Nights' as a representation of Moslem life and manners" (p. 192); completely overlooking the contributions of Galland, to whom the credit is rightfully due. But almost every statement about the French Professor has some inaccuracies. "In 1704, Antoine Galland, who was once part of the French embassy in Constantinople, but then a professor at the Collége de France, introduced the world to the contents of an Arab Manuscript he had brought from Syria, titled 'The Thousand Nights and One Night'" (p. 167), neglecting to mention the famous Il a fallu le faire venir de Syrie. At that time (1704), Galland was still in Caen working for "L'intendant Fouquet"; and he didn't bring any manuscript, as he clearly states in the Preface to his first volume. Here are two significant errors on one page, and on the next (p. 168), we find "As a purported translation, Galland's 'Mille et une Nuits' (note that the Frenchman always wrote Mille et une Nuit)455 is an outrageous fraud. "It takes more than mere "audacity" to make such a misstatement even in the pages of the Edinburgh, and can anything be more false than saying "the entire last fourteen tales have nothing at all to do with the 'Nights'"?
These bévues, 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 Bibliothèque 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 beginning456 of the xivth century. The French Savant has printed a specimen page in his Histoire d'Alâ al-Dîn (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 years.457
These mistakes, which give us a fair measure of the Reviewer's ability to critique, are followed (p. 189) by a series of outdated claims. "The top authority on this matter (the date) is the late Mr. Lane, who expresses his absolute belief that the tales reflect the social life of medieval Egypt, and he points to a time close to the end of the fifteenth century as the likely date of collection, although he thinks some of the tales are somewhat later" (p. 189). Mr. Lane's research on the topic was frustratingly superficial. He clearly states (Preface, p. xii.) that "the work was started and finished by one person," or at least that "one person completed what another started." With remarkable lack of critical insight, he couldn't recognize the significant differences in style, language, treatment, and feelings, which are immediately noticeable to any intelligent reader and which clearly show that many people contributed to the Great Saga-book. He mentions "Galland's very incomplete manuscript," but he never bothered to examine the three volumes in question that are still in the Bibliothèque Nationale. And when he suggests that "it (the work) was most likely not started earlier than the fifteenth century of our era" (Pref. p. xiii.), M. Hermann Zotenberg, based on the writing style, would date the manuscript to the beginning of the 14th century. The French scholar has published a sample page in his Histoire d'Alâ al-Dîn (p. 6; see my Suppl. vol. iii., Foreword p. ix.); and now, at the request of several experts, he is preparing to publish additional evidence that supports his view. We need to correct Lane's fifteenth century to thirteenth century—a difference of just 200 years.
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 Gharíb and his brother 'Ajíb (vol. vi. 257) and that of Omar ibn Al-Nu'umán, "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.
After this unfortunate digression, the Reviewer goes on to give a very simplistic assessment of the Great Recueil. While "Enchantment" might be "a constant motive," it is entirely secondary and supportive: "the true and universal theme is love;" "'all are but the ministers of love,' completely subordinate to the great theme" (p. 193). This is the usual half-truth and complete falsehood. Love and war, or rather, war and love, are the foundations of all romantic fiction, just as they drive the countless forms and styles of dance. This might not be obvious from Lane's distorted and incomplete version, which carefully leaves out all the tales of chivalry and conquest, like the History of Gharíb and his brother 'Ajíb (vol. vi. 257) and that of Omar ibn Al-Nu'umán, "which is, as a whole, very unreadable" (p. 172), though it’s certainly no more so than our European romances. However, this is not the case with the original work. Additionally, "These romantic lovers who would go through fire to meet each other are not particularly interesting characters: one might question whether they have any character at all" (p. 195). "The story, not the characterization, is the essence of the 'Arabian Nights'" (p. 196). I can only be amazed at the complete lack of understanding and appreciation that this critic shows in what he wrote about: one part of his brain must have been distracted, and his mental blindness makes him a rarity even among reviewers. He overlooks all the high morals of the work, its incredible pathos and humor, its tender emotions, and the subtle distinctions between the various heroes and heroines, which together make it a timeless book.
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 quâ 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, "Hádimu 'I-Lizzáti wa Mufarriku 'l-Jama'át," 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 critic wraps up his article by doing exactly what critics should avoid. After skillfully showcasing his talent for harsh criticism, he gives his readers a glimpse of his own work. He keeps writing "Zobeyda," "Khalifa," "Aziza" (p. 194), and "Kahramana" (p. 199) without the final aspirate, which is essential in Arabic, if not Turkish (see my Suppl. vol. v. 302). He clings to the pretentious mistake "The Khalif" (p. 193), a term that doesn’t exist in Arabic. He translates (p. 181), even though I’ve taught him better, "Hádimu 'I-Lizzáti wa Mufarriku 'l-Jama'át," as "Terminator of Delights and Separator of Companies" instead of "Destroyer of delights and Severer of societies." Lastly, he ends his article (pp. 196-199) with five tedious excerpts from Lane (i. 372-73), who can be boring 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 "æra 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 dissipated458 my mind" (Azhakta rúhí = thou scatterest my wits, in the Calc. Edit. Saghgharta rúhí = 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 échantillon 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'lláhi" 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).
The first quote has changed so much that the extra commas (three in the original's opening line) are gone, making it easier for the reader. Lane's original citation date (App. 263) has been switched to that of the notes (A.H. 653); and the "era of Alexander," A.M. 7320, which is ridiculous and shows the futility of such timelines, has been completely omitted because Lane relied on the unreliable Bull Edit. Lane’s Latin influences are strongly present here—“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 my mind” (Azhakta rúhí = thou scatterest my wits, in the Calc. Edit. Saghgharta rúhí = thou belittles my mind). However, even Lane never wrote “I only required thee to shave my head”—the adverb mistakenly emphasizing the wrong verb, as the uninformed often do—when it should be “I required thee only to shave my head.” In the second example, we see “a piece of gold” used instead of a quarter-diner and “for God's sake,” which definitely loses local flavor. In number 3 we have “‘May God,’ said I,” etc.; “There is no deity but God! Mohammed is God's apostle!” Here, Allah should always be used, e.g. “Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah,” unless the English name for God is required, as in “There is no god but the God.” The Muslim phrase “Wa'lláhi” should not be translated as “By God,” a word-for-word translation that doesn't capture the true meaning; the terms Jehovah, Allah, and God involve many subtle distinctions. If it's true that God made man, then man in turn has made and distorted God, who thus becomes a Son of Man and just a type of human race. I won't bother my reader with more notes on these extracts, which only serve to highlight the dullness of Lane's Latinized style: I even prefer 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.
"We’ve talked tough about the last" (my version), says the Reviewer (p.185), and I genuinely appreciate that. I’ve never aimed to be praised by those who lack merit. A writer who is so knowledgeable and unbiased could only hurt my feelings and bruise my pride by giving me approval and praise. I also have no desire to be glorified in the pages of the Edinburgh, which is well-known for its old controversies. As Dryden puts it, "He has given me all the respect that any man can get from him, which is to be insulted by him." I’m fine sharing the criticism of this veteran—incapable alongside the mediocre poet George Gordon who paid the price for "this Lord’s position;" with that "shiny fly in the pride of May," Macaulay, and with the great trio, Darwin, Huxley, and Hooker, who have also been targets of his harsh and spiteful critiques (April '63 and April '73). Lastly, I have no appetite for flattering words from the current Editor of the Edinburgh, Mr. Henry Reeve, a grumpy and bitter old man whose sour demeanor is matched only by his petty jealousy of others' achievements. Let them torment the sensitive with their godless insults; as for me, I couldn’t care less—my shoulders are broad enough to handle 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:—
During the three years that have passed since I first started printing my book, I haven't often had to deal with unnecessary rudeness, but one specific instance stands out. The following lines I sent to The Academy (August 11, '88) will be enough to present my situation to my readers:—
The Bestial Element in Man.
The Animalistic Side of Humanity.
"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 Cyclopædia, 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 Müller (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 réclame of abuse.
"One hesitates to disagree with such a significant authority as Sir Richard Burton on everything that pertains to the animalistic side of human nature." So writes (p. xii., Introduction to the Fables of Pilpay), with unnecessary rudeness, Mr. Joseph Jacobs, who goes out of his way to be offensive, and who admits to having gained all his understanding 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 Cyclopædia, Edinburgh, 1888. This elevated moral stance was likely taken for a reason by a writer who dedicates "To my dear wife" a volume full of risqué anecdotes and not lacking in unconventional language. However, I suffer from this criticism in polite society alongside Prof. Max Müller (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 notable group is referenced, with clear and distinct sneers, in a small volume that, rendered useless by the lack of notes and an index, must promote itself through a campaign of insult.
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.
As for the legacy of Homo Darwinienesis by Homo Sapiens, it would certainly be shared by all of humanity. However, I believe Africa is the original home of the Beast-fable because Egypt was the creator of the alphabet, the birthplace of writing, the promoter of animism and reincarnation, and, in general, the foundation of all human civilization.
Richard F. Burton
Richard Francis Burton
And now I must proceed a trifle further a-field and meet
And now I need to go a little further afield and meet
The Critic in Anglo-America.
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:—
The Boston Daily Advertiser (Jan. 26, '86) includes the following noteworthy piece that was circulated by 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 due.
G. W. S. writes from London to the New York Tribune about Captain Burton's controversial translation of "The Arabian Nights." Two volumes of Captain Burton's translation have now been released. Before anyone had seen them, I provided some details about this project and the sources he used, along with an explanation of why all existing versions were unsatisfactory and incomplete for students. Captain Burton chose to reprint these scattered paragraphs as a sort of announcement for his upcoming book. He didn't think it was necessary to ask for permission to do this, and I had no idea how my letter would be used until it was too late to object. Normally, this wouldn't matter much, but Captain Burton's version is so problematic that I feel it’s important to clarify the facts and state that when I wrote my letter, I hadn't seen a single line of his translation. I had no idea that my comments about his plans would be used in this way or for any reason other than to be published in your columns. As it stands, I appear to offer some sort of approval for a book that I find offensive, not just offensive, but grossly and unnecessarily so. If anyone has been persuaded to subscribe based on what I wrote, I regret it, and I believe this explanation is necessary for both him and myself.
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.
Mr. Smalley is the London correspondent for the New York Tribune, which represents Jupiter Tonans in the Western World. He might not be able to write with an independent voice—few Anglo-Americans can risk confronting the blatant and mixed ignorance of a "free and independent majority"—but he isn’t required to state an untruth. Before using Mr. Smalley's article as a circular, my representative made sure to ask him for permission, as he was bound to do by basic courtesy. Mr. Smalley replied immediately, gladly granting the request, as I can confirm by the note I still have; yet soon after, intimidated by the petty barking of a few critical voices back home, he had the nerve to deny it.
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:—
In my recent volumes, I've received significant support from two Anglo-American friends, MM Thayer and Cotheal, and I've often been grateful to the Tribune and the Herald of New York for valuing my work. However, I owe no thanks to the minor players in the Transatlantic Press who have greeted me with spiteful little comments mostly copied from my critics in England, primarily focusing on my style and finances. In the Mail Express of New York (September 7, '85), I read, "Captain Richard Burton, traveler and translator, plans to make all the money he can from his translation of the 'Arabian Nights.' * * * If he just fills his list and collects his payments, he will be set for life." In a later issue (October 24), readers are informed that I've been urged not to publish the rest of the series under threat of legal action. In the same publication (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.459 The foulness of the second volume of his translation places it at a much higher premium in the market than the first.
The authorities have found out where Capt. Burton's "Thousand and One Nights" is being printed, despite the author's attempts to keep it a secret. They’re still debating whether to stop it or allow the upcoming volumes to be published. Burton's footnotes are so extensive that they outweigh the actual text, making up most of the work.459 The controversy surrounding the second volume of his translation makes it far more valuable 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:—
The Tribune of Chicago (October 26, '85) honors me by stating, "It has been decided to ask Captain Burton not to publish the remainder of his translation of the 'Thousand and One Nights,' which is actually poorly done and careless in style." The New York Times (October 17 and November 9, '85) simply repeats the bitterness of its English counterpart:—
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."
Capt. Burton's translation of the "Arabian Nights" is marked "Benares." Obviously, the book was never actually printed in Benares. Places like America, France, Belgium, and Germany have been proposed as the locations of printing, and now the Pall Mall Gazette claims that it was produced "north of the Tweed." It states that there is, without a doubt, "a press on British soil that year after year puts out numerous 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 clientèle, "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'."
And the same goes for 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 brings up a false report, and the Boston Herald (December 16, '85). The Chicago Daily News (January 30, '86) includes a nasty jab at the Kamashastra Society. The American Register (Paris, July 25, '86) tells its readers, "If, as is generally believed, Captain Burton's book is printed abroad, it’s likely that every copy will be confiscated upon arrival as 'indecent' by Customs." To shorten a long list of similar falsehoods, I’ll quote the Bookmart (of Pittsburgh, Pa., U.S.A., October, '86): "Sir Richard Burton's 'Nights' are desperately in need of a fig leaf, if anything less than a cabbage leaf will do, before they can be suitable for family reading. Is it possible that by the time a household selection has been filtered out from the great work, everything that gives originality and value—whatever that may be—of Richard's series of volumes will have vanished, and all that will be left is his amusing quirks of style?" The Bookmart, I’ve been told, is edited by a man named Halkett Lord, a non-naturalized Englishman who seems to think it’s best to criticize everything and everyone English. Lastly, the Springfield Republican (April 5, '88) assures me that I have published "more than enough of the 'Nights' for what the world wants."
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 sense.
In the case of "The Nights," I'm confronted with that unique form of Protestant hypocrisy, which is quite different from the original Tartuffean version of Catholicism, yet just as powerful a driving force across the North American continent as it is within the small confines of England. There, just like here, it goes hand-in-hand with "Respectability," blinding judgment and common sense.
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.
A prominent surgeon today reportedly told his students: “Never forget, gentlemen, that you’re dealing with an uninformed public.” This statement can easily apply beyond medicine to the general knowledge of the many people in England; and when publishers reject a book that’s too obscure, they often repeat the mantra, “The English public isn’t a well-educated group.” This is equally true for the Anglo-American community, which is still partially educated and far from erudite. The vast nation has produced a few figures of great originality, like Emerson, Theodore Parker, Edgar Allan Poe, and Walt Whitman, but the total is still too small to influence the large crowd that learns the basics in schools and colleges and finishes their education with newspapers and lectures. When Emerson died, people claimed that the intellectual brilliance of a continent had faded; however, Edgar A. Poe, the unique poetic luminary of the States, the first transatlantic figure who dared to be himself instead of borrowing from Schiller or Byron, the foreign poet who is now incredibly popular in France, still seems to be under a cloud because he, like Byron, separated from his wife and led a so-called “Bohemian” lifestyle. Indeed, the widespread literacy in the States, often boasted about in comparison to the uneducated and illiterate “Old World,” has only highlighted the negative aspects of a national character that lacks warmth and is filled with stiff individuality. This mindset, which can be positively interpreted as a love for freedom and self-reliance, has roots that trace back to the very beginnings of American history. The “Founding Fathers,” Pilgrims, and Puritans who left their homeland for the sake of their country and themselves fled from civil tyranny and clerical oppression only to oppress and control others in far-off new lands. After just a century and a half, those resilient colonists—who didn’t just want freedom but were determined to maintain it—officially rebelled and fought for complete independence—not exactly an achievement to brag about when an entire nation stands together against a handful of soldiers. Nevertheless, this movement had a significant impact on European politics, which was eager for change, and undoubtedly helped trigger the great French Revolution. Once the States became a nation, their democratic and republican institutions quickly attracted many immigrants from the Old World, filling the land with a mix of individuals: active and adventurous ones, discontented and dishonest ones, while the average person stayed behind. The potato famine in Ireland (1848) led to a huge wave of emigration from a race that had never known a cultural awakening; finally, Germans fleeing from conscription and the blood tax of their homeland brought with them a philosophical outlook that gave rise to wild theories of socialism and communism. And the process of emigration is still ongoing. Entire regions, like the rugged Bocche di Cattaro in Dalmatia and impoverished Iceland, are becoming depopulated; it’s a wonder that a poor person ever agrees to live outside America or that a rich person chooses to stay.
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 écurant 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 outcome of this selection is two-fold. First, it shows in a remarkable self-esteem, a sense of satisfaction, and a confidence that goes beyond reasonable limits. "I'm deeply engaged in calmly reflecting on the greatness of my homeland and its incredible growth," writes an old literary friend of mine. This feeling often manifests in excessive praise for everything American. The overly provincial accent still heard among the working classes of Lancashire and Yorkshire, notably seen in the newly wealthy, blended with traditional nasal tones and, like in Australia, influenced by the climate, is American and therefore represents the purest form of English speech. The outdated vocabulary, often no longer relevant in England without good reason—contrasting with a modern distorted etymology that strips words of their origins and history—is American and thus remarkably advanced. The false humor that mostly consists of poorly spelled jargon and bizarre contrasts of ideas, along with extreme exaggeration, is American wit and humor—therefore unbeatable. The Newspaper Press, that major mirror of national identities and primary expression of popular taste, often descends into an appallingly vulgar tone, too personal beyond common decency and sensational like a melodrama, is American; America is the greatest nation on earth, and as such, the daily paper is establishing the standard for English speech and shaping the language of the Future, good enough for everyone. This low standard of the Press is all the more regrettable since its important role now is to tackle the highest social and industrial problems, like labor cooperation, fisheries development, direct versus indirect taxation, and a host of puzzles that the young world, free from the Old World's burdens, will alone solve.
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 Göethe 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."
The second outcome is even more harmful and dangerous. This is the celebration of mediocrity, of the average man and woman whose low standards must be seen as the norm by politicians and media figures. This admiration for the common and the unremarkable is particularly damaging because it "fights against all distinction and against the sense of elevation that comes from respecting and admiring excellence." Its common presence in a society that, true to its Anglo-Saxon roots, builds the strongest opinions on the weakest foundations, obstructs the higher achievements of genius and undermines the "primary responsibility of a nation, which is to produce great individuals." It explains the growing dominance of women in literature—often leading to mediocre work and second-rate contributions. The main issue is not so much the lack of the "thrill of awe," which Goethe claims is the greatest gift humanity has, but rather the absence of a discipline of respect, that sense of loyalty, not just in its narrow sense of attachment to royalty but in a far deeper and nobler sense, one that recognizes and embraces elevation and distinction in whatever form they may take. "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 offensé. 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 vulgarité 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.
And here we see the dark side of the education system, where basic and shallow knowledge spreads, creating a shiny surface that hides the unrefined material underneath until it gets scratched off. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing because it thinks it knows everything and blocks further learning. This leads to impatience with new ideas, improvements, and originality. It can't stand being contradicted, is easily irritated, overly sensitive, and can't handle criticism or any negative comments. It embodies the Law of Copyright, which is not just legalized theft from foreigners but is also unfair, unjust, and stingy to local talent, all for the short-sighted benefit of the many. I’m not accusing the United States of the terrible idea of "International Copyright." The English publishers are just as much against "protection" as the American politicians; however, we expect more from a new nation that inherits European civilization without the struggles that came with achieving it. This mediocrity harbors a furious, unforgiving resentment of wounded pride. Even saying something nice about my old friends the Mormons is an unforgivable offense: the small-minded demon of "Respectability" has made their harsh treatment a shameful mark on a so-called "free" country. They face slights and injustices simply for practicing polygamy, an institution never condemned by Christ or the early Christians. The calm and unbiased judgments of Sir Lepel Griffith and the late Matthew Arnold, who dared to suggest, in careful terms, that the claimed civilization of the United States wasn’t perfect, led to the former being called a snob and the latter a liar. English stoicism would only have smiled at the criticism, even if it were delivered in a sarcastic tone. And when M. Max O'Rell contradicts the statements of the two Englishmen and exaggerates American civilization, we must remember first that vulgarity doesn’t translate, and second, that the enemies of our enemies are our friends. Woe to the man who refuses to bow down and worship that brazen-faced idol (Eidolon Novi Mundi), Public Opinion in the States; unless, of course, his name is Brown and he comes 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.
Some years ago, I suggested writing a paper on the impact of Anglo-America on England, using the latest edition of Mrs. Trollope as a reference. She had to admit that almost every quirk she criticized in her first publication had taken root back home. American ingenuity has remarkably replaced the traditional English values of honesty and straightforwardness; gambling on the Stock Exchange, market manipulation, booms, and trusts have infiltrated everyone from wealthy merchants to small shopkeepers, and if this trend continues, we might be left with no honest person at all. Now, let's shift our focus to the significant and growing influence of the New World on the Old, especially on Europe. About 50,000 Americans visit the continent each year, and they are quickly becoming the most significant part of the transient population; in just a few years, that number is expected to reach 500,000. In the meantime, they are transforming all the traditional institutions; they are putting an end to the classic tour guide, whose role is fading among a crowd that only wants to see streets and people. They are driving up travel costs; they pay in dollars instead of euros and accept poor service at high prices, which is why English people and locals tend to avoid American hotels abroad. Back home, the "well-off class" initially viewed their relatives across the ocean with disdain. Then they saw them as a country squire might view a younger branch that has prospered by moving away; now they are welcomed into society because they entertain, surprise, and energize the more boring segments of life. However warm friendships may be between English people and Anglo-Americans, there is no public sympathy, and none can be expected from the current generation. "New England does not understand Old England and never will," and the opposite is equally true. "The Millennium must come," Darwin states, "before nations love each other;" I add that first, primitive man must evolve into modern man and shed his moral decay—selfishness and ignorance. Mr. Cleveland felt the need to take extreme measures regarding "Fisheries" to remove the stain of being the "English President," and the "Irish vote" must be secured every four years, risking national complications. Despite the many discussions about the "brotherhood of the two great English-speaking nations," the old feelings of jealousy and rivalry, similar to the resentment between a Pole and a Russian, still exist. Uncle Sam actively dislikes John Bull and criticizes England. An Anglo-American who has spent years among us, enjoying a close friendship, must, upon returning home, speak negatively about the old country unless they can afford the costly luxury of expressing unpopular truths and angering the masses.
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 teacher.
But even now, there are signs of better things in the Great Republic. Mr. James R. Lowell, an expert (if there is one) on Democracy, after showcasing its strengths and positive aspects in his speeches to English audiences, has finally had the rare courage to discuss internal issues and to enlighten Boston and New York about the "weaknesses and dangers that may arise in the practical application of a system never before set in motion under such favorable conditions, or on such a grand scale." He boldly asserts, despite the backlash of empty self-praise, that American civilization, while strong in material aspects, is seriously lacking in others, and still needs much to become morally acceptable or satisfactory. And we have some truths about that Fool's Paradise, the glorification of the "average man." Every citizen of the world must hope for the full success of the "Independents" (in politics) who learn from such a wise and patriotic teacher.
And here I feel myself bound to offer some explanation concerning
And here I feel I need to explain something about
The Household Edition of the Arabian Nights.
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
lest any subscriber accuse me, after agreeing not to release or allow the release of a cheaper version, of the questionable tactics that could be called
To keep the word of promise to our ear
And break it to our hope.
To keep the promise we hear
And fulfill it for 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 ægis. 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.
Hardly had my third volume of "The Nights" (proper) been released to my patrons when a kind subscriber, whose name I must keep secret, informed me that he had specific information about a plan to pirate the work. It's worth noting that England and Anglo-America are the only so-called civilized countries in the world where an author's creative work is not considered their private property: a book is essentially nothing unless published and registered, after sending out seven presentation copies, at "Stationers' Hall"—its only protection. France, Italy, and Austria treat such works as private manuscripts: here, any dishonest publisher can reproduce them without any regard for the writer's rightful rights. In my case, this act of theft was proposed by a German publisher based in London, backed by a Frenchman who also operates in Paris, and of whose shady financial dealings many Englishmen have very good reason to complain. This duo planned to print a more convenient and cheaper edition than mine, and if their plan succeeded, it would have seriously hurt the value of my subscribers' investment: the series that cost them £10 10s. could have dropped to half that value. The two pirates met in Paris where they discussed and finalized their plan; but luckily for me, an unexpected obstacle arose. The London lawyer, who was consulted by the dishonest firm, advised that such a work publicly issued would be a blessing to the Society for the Suppression of Vice and would attract the unwelcome attention of 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.
But even though these two guys were held back by the possible consequences, a braver person might not worry about them. I never meant to go beyond my original plan, which was to print only one thousand copies and not a single one more, nor did I think any clever disguise could make "The Nights" suitable for polite society. However, many people whose opinions I respected insisted that this was the only way to protect the author and his subscribers from shameless fraud, and in the end, I reluctantly agreed.
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.
Mr. Justin Huntley McCarthy, a name well-known in modern literature, took on the challenge of turning the old barbarian into a family man suitable for polite society. After some editing, his drafts were given to my wife, who, I should note, has never read the original. She removed everything she found too risqué, on the condition that no mother would hesitate to let her daughters read the book. It might surprise some "modest gentlemen" and overly moralistic reviewers that the amount of original material cut from the text and the notes, mainly intended for anthropologists and Orientalists, is only 215 pages out of a total of 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 (£3 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.
Between 1886 and 1888, there was a revision released in six nice volumes, featuring symbolic colors, pure white embellished with the golden lilies of St. Joseph and the "pure crescent of the young moon." The price was also lowered to the minimum (£3 3s.) with the idea that the work would be appreciated, if not by families, at least by libraries and reading rooms, for which the older translations are still being reproduced. However, the flattering story of Hope turned out to be misleading; I had once again done without the help of Mr. Middleman, the publisher, and he understandably refused to support this risky change. A suggestion circulated that the book belonged to a category borrowed from the clever Mr. Bowdler, and for half a century, reviewers spoke boldly in its praise to no avail. The public rejected it: even innocent young women dismissed the pure volumes with complete disdain, insisting on nothing less than the real deal, completely unedited and unaltered. The result was a surprising and unwelcome reflection of modern taste in highly respectable England. Ultimately, of the edition that started with a thousand copies, only 457 were sold over two years. Next time, I will better understand the unique tastes and biases of the reading audience 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.
Before dismissing the topic of the Household Edition, I’d like to share a few words on behalf of the Editress. While refining and editing the somewhat rushed work of our friend, Mr. McCarthy, she had to travel with me abroad and care for me through a serious illness, which left little time for the demands of business. Unable to oversee the publication of her six volumes with the necessary attention, she delegated the responsibility to two agents in whom she had and still has complete trust in their goodwill and experience. However, this resulted in various letters of appeal and frustration from subscribers regarding issues that were entirely unknown and confusing to her. If any errors have occurred in the details, she expresses her sincere regret and assures those affected that she never intended to show any disrespect where she felt heartfelt gratitude was deserved.
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 Attáf." 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-Asnám (Supp. vol. iii.) and translations of three tales which he judged inexpedient to publish (Supp. vol. iv.). M. O. Houdas, Professeur d' Arabe Vulgaire à l'école des langues Orientales vicantes, Paris, copied for me the Arabic text of Zayn al-Asnám 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, Naskhí 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 Bibliothèque 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 collection.
Nothing remains for me now but the enjoyable task of naming the many friends and helpers to whom this sixteenth and final volume is dedicated. The late Reverend G. Percy Badger was strongly against the literal translation of "The Nights" (The Academy, December 8, '81); nonetheless, he eagerly assisted me with its philology. Dr. F. Grenfell Baker provided me with valuable help in the mechanical aspects of my labor. Mr. James F. Blumhardt, a practical Orientalist and lecturer on the Prakrit dialects at Cambridge, translated the eight Gallandian tales (Foreword, Supp. vol. iii.) from various versions in Hindostan for me. To Mr. William H. Chandler of Pembroke College, Oxford, I have expressed (Supp. vol. iii.) my gratitude for being a kind and generous friend: his photography experiments will help bridge the gap between the unfriendly and outdated rules of the great Oxford Library and the behaviors and customs of more civilized people. Mr. W. A. Clouston, who holds a high degree in "Storiology," provided my second and third Supplemental volumes with valuable analogues and variants. Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, Consul-General for Nicaragua in New York, sent me a valuable manuscript from overseas and was persuaded to translate a new version of the "Tale of Attáf" for my sixth Supplemental volume. Mr. A. G. Ellis from the British Museum, among other favors, kindly revised the Foreword of my sixth volume. Mr. E. J. W. Gibb, an Orientalist of the modern and realistic approach, who doesn't shy away from literal translation, allowed me to print his version of the Turkish Zayn al-Asnám (Supp. vol. iii.) and translations of three tales he deemed unfit for publication (Supp. vol. iv.). M. O. Houdas, a professor of Arabic at the School of Oriental Languages in Paris, copied the Arabic text of Zayn al-Asnám and the entire manuscript used by MM. Chavis and Cazotte for me; he also kindly helped me navigate the various challenges of a difficult and imperfect text. My friend Mr. W. F. Kirby added his invaluable contributions to the bibliology of the work to volume x. of "The Nights" (proper), detailing its various imitations and providing a table of contents for the main editions and translations of "The Nights": he also enhanced my Supplemental volumes v. and vi. with his excellent annotations. Mr. Kingsbury (and Notcutt) photographed more than 400 pages of the Wortley-Montague manuscript for my use, demonstrating how easy it is to create a perfect facsimile of the whole. Mr. George Lewis offered me sound legal advice, and Mr. Philip M. Justice was persuaded to take an active interest in the "Household Edition." The distinguished Orientalist, Dr. Pertsch, Librarian of the Grand-Ducal Collection in Saxe-Gotha, in stark contrast to my countrymen at the Bodleian, offered to send me two volumes of a valuable manuscript containing the most detailed texts of Judar and his brothers (vol. vi. 213) and of Zahir and his son Ali. Dr. Reinhold Rost, Librarian of the Indian Office, put in considerable effort regarding the W. M. manuscript, but unfortunately all in vain. Mr. Alexander W. Thayer from Trieste, who has studied the so-called Jewish "Exodus" for years, provided me with a valuable note outlining his original views. His Excellency Yacoub Artin Pasha, Minister of Public Instruction in Cairo and a long-time friend, got me decorations in Cufic, Naskhí, and other scripts that add a touch of novelty and beauty to the outer appearance of my sixteen volumes. Mr. Hermann Zotenberg, Keeper of Oriental Manuscripts at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, lent me his transcription of "Alaeddin" and generously provided me with precise bibliographical notes and measurements of various works in that remarkable collection.
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.
I am also very grateful to Mrs. Victoria L. Maylor, from Trieste, who, over the past three years (1885-1888), had the energy and determination to copy for me sixteen heavy volumes written in a "running-hand," about which it’s better to say less. Lastly, I want to recognize my special obligations to my Shaykh, Dr. Steingass, Ph.D. This well-known expert on Arabic not only helped me get the entire work published, but he also contributed a valuable essay on Arabic Prosody (x. 233-258) along with various indexes. Finally, he oversaw the manuscripts of the Supplemental volumes and enhanced the last three, which were translated under challenging conditions in illiterate regions, with insights from his extensive reading and lexicographical expertise.
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:—
And now, thank God, the play is over, and as the curtain falls, I take the final chance to speak to my kind and appreciative audience with these 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.
Now listen to my hopes from open-minded people,
Flaws that seek indulgence will look for and find;
For those who blame and criticize out of spite,
Are truly foolish, the exact opposite of wise.To which let me add the following gentle reminder from Ibn Khaldún:—
To which let me add this gentle reminder from Ibn Khaldún:—
All that we can we do, and who ne'er swerves
From best endeavour much of praise deserves.
All that we can do, and those who never waver
From their best effort deserve a lot of praise.Farewell!
Goodbye!
Richard F. Burton United Service Club, September 30, 1888.
Richard F. Burton United Service Club, September 30, 1888.
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
Morning Advertiser, September 15th, 1885.
Morning Advertiser, September 15, 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 communiqué'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. * * * * *
As the holiday season comes to an end, the publishers' announcements of "new books" fill column after column of the selected publications from these special reports. But there’s one work that’s missing from these lists, even though for years scholars and many laypeople have eagerly been searching for it, surpassing the usual curiosity shown towards the greatest contributions to current literature. Today, the few who possess the volume in question are examining it with an interest that matches the long effort put into its preparation. We're talking about Captain Burton's translation of The Arabian Nights Entertainments, now titled The Book of The Thousand Nights and a Night, of which the first volume has just been released. * * * * Captain Burton rejects any weak or overly delicate approach. In Arabic, a spade is typically called a spade, and in the latest English translation, it is never referred to as just an agricultural tool. Additionally, the numerous footnotes the editor includes openly discuss many topics usually avoided in polite conversation, even though they shed significant light on hundreds of aspects of Oriental life that travelers have been forced to write about for "refined" audiences, leaving the students uninformed. * * * * *
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 naïve 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 translation.
Yet, while it's true that The Nights can be rough and inappropriate, and sometimes even offensive, it's a mistake to think they are demoralizing in the same way as a French novel in the style of Zola may be. In fact, what we consider improper is just a reflection of the open conversations that still happen in family circles in the East. They don’t see anything wrong with what we might call indecency. So, when Captain Burton introduces his unedited version with the Arab proverb, "To the pure in heart all things are pure," he offers perhaps the best defense against potential criticism for dedicating many years of his life to what he calls "a labor of love." * * * Captain Burton, thirty-three years ago, disguised himself as an Indian pilgrim to visit Mecca and Al-Medinah, and no one who can share their experiences has as detailed and comprehensive a knowledge of Arab and Oriental life in general. Therefore, the work he has begun—limited to a small number of students—is invaluable for anyone interested in these topics, and it can be seen as a landmark in the history of Oriental translation.
St. James' Gazette, September 12th, 1885.
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.
One of the most significant translations that a great English scholar has ever worked on is currently being published. For the past thirty years, Captain Burton has been involved in his translation of the Arabian Nights, the latest among the many English versions of that incredible tale, and the only one that truly does justice to the original.
Whitehall Review, September 17th, 1885.
Whitehall Review, Sept 17, 1885.
The publication of the first volume of Captain Burton's translation of the Alif Laïla 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.
The release of the first volume of Captain Burton's translation of the Alif Laïla adds a significant contribution to the field of Oriental studies, showcasing extensive hard work, scholarship, and research. * * * * * On behalf of the entire community of Oriental scholars, we extend our sincere gratitude and congratulations to Captain Burton for this first volume, and we eagerly anticipate the subsequent volumes.
Home News, September 18th, 1885.
Home News, September 18, 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.
Captain Burton has started to release the volumes of his subscription translation of the Arabian Nights, and those lucky enough to have it will now experience the full richness of Eastern culture. They will have access to a vast collection of Eastern folklore, and Captain Burton's deep knowledge of Eastern life makes his insights invaluable. In this way, as well as in the openness of the translation, this version will stand out from its many predecessors. It’s worth noting that Captain Burton's preface shows signs of resentment towards being overlooked by officials. It's indeed surprising that his skills weren't put to use in the Soudan when there was such a strong demand for qualified Arabic scholars.
Nottingham Journal, September 19th, 1885.
Nottingham Journal, September 19, 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 Shahrázád, all these combine to give a unique charm and interest to this "perfect expositor of the mediæval Moslem mind."
But for scholars and those who truly appreciate the essence of these beautiful stories, this new edition will be a welcome addition. From an Eastern perspective, the work is exceptionally well done. The quatrains and couplets, resembling verses from Elizabethan writings, create a perfect collection of Eastern knowledge. The continuous flow of vivid imagery and the joy of reconnecting with our beloved Shahrázád all come together to give this a unique charm and significance as a "perfect expositor of the medieval Muslim mind."
The Bat, September 29th, 1885.
The Bat, September 29, 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."
Captain Burton provides an enormous benefit to all literature students, whether they're deep Orientalists or not, and to many who are, by offering a straightforward, honest, and accurate translation of the Arabian Nights. * * * Some foolish individuals here and there, along with certain publications that have gained a bad reputation for corrupting public morals, have made a ridiculous fuss against Captain Burton and his translation. Journalists, who had no issue with catering to humanity's worst tastes for a cheap appeal, suddenly feel righteous anger about a privately printed work that costs a guinea per volume, which depicts the customs, manners, and language of the East as they truly are. Such critics are not worth Captain Burton's time or the attention of his readers. The Arabian Nights has served as the storybook for generations, delighting children and students for nearly two hundred years. It's about time scholars and students were allowed to understand what the Arabian Nights really is. Arabic enthusiasts have long been aware of the truth regarding the Alif Laila. It doesn’t require Burton or Payne to inform those skilled in Oriental languages that The Thousand Nights and a Night is very different from what either Galland or Lane presented. Mr. Payne, in his way, provided valuable service, and Captain Burton, in his own way, offers a tremendous benefit to all literature students, regardless of their level of knowledge in Oriental studies, by delivering a literal, honest, and accurate translation of the "Arabian Nights."
The Academy, October 3rd, 1885.
The Academy, October 3, 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:—
As Capt. Richard F. Burton's translation of The Thousand and One Nights is likely to spark some literary debate for several reasons, the following letter from Mr. John Addington Symonds published in the Academy on October 3 will be of interest. The topic he addresses is significant and should be viewed from both a scholarly and a moral perspective. Mr. Symonds writes with the authority of a scholar; we'll soon see how the moralists express their views, and if they make any relevant points, we’ll share them:—
Am Hof, Davos Platz, Switzerland, September 27th, 1885.
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 Egypt.
"There’s quite a backlash in some circles against Capt. Burton's translation of the Arabian Nights. I’ve only received one volume of the work so far, and I haven’t read all of it yet. I won’t comment on the translator's notes, as the current sample isn’t enough to form an opinion, but I want to express my disapproval of the hypocrisy that criticizes his text. When we encourage our youth to read an unedited Bible (in Hebrew and Greek, or in the authorized version), an unedited Aristophanes, an unedited Juvenal, an unedited Boccaccio, an unedited Rabelais, an unedited collection of Elizabethan dramatists, including Shakespeare, and an unedited Plato (in Greek or in Prof. Jowett's English version), it’s definitely inconsistent to exclude the unedited Arabian Nights, whether in the original or in any English translation, from the studies of a nation that governs India and administers Egypt."
"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 naïveté combined with stylistic subtlety of the former than to the smooth humanistic elegancies of the latter.
The qualities of Captain Burton's translation are similar to those of his previous literary works, and so are the flaws. With a vast and diverse vocabulary, he enjoys using it so much that sometimes he breaks the unspoken rules of artistic harmony. From a language perspective, I believe he is too eager to grasp the exact word of his author, using any equivalent that comes to mind from different settings—be it field or open land, waste or woodland, hill or hedgerow—in our everyday language. As a result, I think we find some coarse passages of the Arabian Nights translated with unnecessary bluntness, while some poetic parts suffer from outdated and regional language. However, I struggle to understand why Burton's translation method should be less suitable for the Arabian Nights than for the Lusiad. From what I can tell, it fits better with the straightforwardness combined with stylistic nuance of the former than with the smooth, refined elegance 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.
"This, however, is a minor point. The real question is whether a word-for-word version of the Arabian Nights, crafted with exceptional literary flair, precise scholarship, and unique insight into Eastern ways of thinking and feeling, can ever be labeled as 'the garbage of the brothels.' In the apparent lack of clarity that is supposed to characterize English people, our middle-class moral watchdogs obsess over a privately circulated translation of an Arabic classic, while they routinely accept the higher education that is based on detailed studies of Greek and Latin literature. When English versions of Theocritus and Ovid, as well as Plato's Phaedrus and the Ecclesiazusae, become suppressed and unavailable to every schoolboy, then, and only then, can a 'plain and literal' translation of the Arabian Nights be justifiably denied to adult readers. I am not saying there aren't valid reasons to approach Hellenic, Graeco-Roman, and Oriental literature this way. But people should consider what Anglo-Saxon Puritanism logically entails. If they want an Anglo-Saxon Index Librorum Prohibitorum, they should apply their principles of scrutiny fairly and consistently to every area of human culture."
"John Addington Symonds."
"John Addington Symonds."
The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 10th, 1885.
Thousand Nights and a Night.
First Notice
The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 10th, 1885.
A Thousand Nights and a Night.
First NoticeEverything 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 mécanique 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'æuvre, 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.
Everything comes to those who wait—even the long-promised, eagerly-expected "Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights" by Richard F. Burton. It has been a whole quarter of a century since this translation of one of the most famous books in the world was first planned, and we're told it stems from the well-known Pilgrimage to Medinah and Mecca. Who could doubt Captain Burton's suitability for the task? It was during that celebrated journey to the tomb of the Prophet that he proved himself to be an Arab—indeed, he claims that in a past life he was a Bedouin. For months, he lived the life of a Son of the Faithful, eating, drinking, sleeping, dressing, speaking, and praying just like his fellow devotees, with the keenest observers unable to see through his disguise. He understands the ways of Eastern men—and women—as well as he does the social scene in London or Trieste. He demonstrated how at home he is with his adopted brethren in Cairo when, to the surprise of some English friends watching the lively devotions of some "howling" Dervishes, he suddenly joined the shouting, gesticulating circle and acted as if he had been born to it. He has qualified as a "Howler," holds a diploma as a master Dervish (see vol. iii. of his "Pilgrimage"), and can initiate disciples. Clearly, to use a phrase from Arabian storytelling, it was decreed by Allah from the beginning, and fate and fortune have ensured that Captain Burton is the one to provide his fellow countrymen with the gift of the genuine, unsophisticated Thousand Nights and a Night. In all of our literature, no book is more widely known. It is spread everywhere like the Bible, Bunyan, and Shakespeare; yet even though it's in every household, and everyone in the kingdom knows something about it, no one really knows it as it truly exists. We’ve only seen what translators have chosen to provide—selected, diluted, and abridged versions. Recently, some so-called "original" books have been released that contain minor tales taken directly from the Nights. Many versions have appeared, starting with the beautiful Augustan French translation by Professor Galland, but none has truly attempted to reproduce the great Oriental masterpiece. Judging by the number of editions—a misleading test of quality—Lane's three volumes have been the most popular among the British public. He was too cautious to give the full benefit of his studies and kept a drawing-room audience in mind. He adapted his work to meet English standards of propriety, and his omissions and suppressions are extensive. Lord Byron commented on English novelists that they depict a full courtship but only a bust of marriage. Mr. Lane thought it wise to keep things discreet, to tell only half the truth—in short, he stops at the bust. Additionally, he altered the structure of his original work substantially, removing the charming and dramatic framework of the tales, turning the Arabian Nights into Arabian Chapters, and too often into Arabian Notes. The first proper complete translation was recently provided 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 distribution, a mere drop in the ocean. His edition was quickly snatched up and is now hard to find—unless, as has occasionally happened, a stray copy turns up on the market and is bought at a premium price. Interestingly, Mr. Payne and Captain Burton both approached the same task without knowing of each other's work. They were both on the same track, like Adams and Leverrier, the joint discoverers of Neptune, or like Darwin and Wallace, who independently developed the theory of Natural Selection. When Captain Burton learned of a competitor, while on his travels to the Gold Coast, he generously offered Mr. Payne the chance to go first. Mr. Payne's work sparked curiosity, prompting the young scholars of the day to study Arabic to better prepare themselves for the anticipated edition to come. Captain Burton's first volume, in somber black and dazzling gold—the colors of the Abbasides—was released three weeks ago and drew attention alongside the newly-discovered Star. This is the first of a ten-volume set issued solely to subscribers. Already, as with Mr. Payne's edition, there’s been a rush to get it, and it’s no longer available for love or money. The truth is, it fills a gap; the world has been waiting for this masterpiece, and all lovers of the Arabian Nights wonder how they managed without it. We must pause to highlight the originality of the style, showcasing the incomparable way in which the essence and spirit of the East is infused into straightforward Anglo-Saxon English. In some of Captain Burton's books, he borrows words from every language; he often has to invent new ones due to a lack of suitable vocabulary. But in the role of Arabian storyteller, he is exceptionally straightforward, skillfully using just enough antique phrases to give a nostalgic and poetic feel. Even the most demanding and particular readers will be pleased with his masterful treatment of timeless themes. A charming aspect is the division of the text into Nights. Lane and Payne, for their own unique reasons, both neglected to show the breaks in the storytelling. But now, for the first time, the thread that holds everything together is clearly outlined, giving proper credit to the lengthy saga of the young wife who saves herself and prevents a mass execution of maidens through her elaborate storytelling.
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 reader who’s most familiar with the regular versions immediately finds themselves in a new environment. The freshness is both surprising and enjoyable. We are face-to-face with the real East, where Cairo, Damascus, and Baghdad are as familiar to us as London or Lincoln. The entire life of the people is depicted; nothing is overlooked or left out. The picture is complete and contains everything, just as "white contains the black of the eye," a phrase which, by the way, is expressed in a single Arabic word. We’ve previously mentioned the strength and beauty of the writing style. The cleverness of the expression is countless. What could be better than the phrases used to express grief and joy, "his heart opened," "his heart tightened," or the words describing someone in utter terror, "I died in my skin," or the cruelty of the one who whipped relentlessly "until her forearm gave out," or the expression of despair "the light in front of him turned to darkness," or the grand description of the desert storm "when suddenly a dust cloud rose and grew until it blocked the horizon." Another unique feature of Captain Burton's edition is the Notes. He is known for filling the bottom of his pages with fascinating insights, and he has done so here in a way that astonishes. He tells us that those who read his notes alongside Lane’s would become fully knowledgeable about Oriental practices and customs. Lane starts with Islam from Creation to today and has rightfully earned a separate reprint for his Notes. Captain Burton’s aim in his annotations is to address topics that are completely hidden from the public. They are entirely esoteric and deal with subjects that books typically avoid. Indeed, he has been told by an Indian officer who spent 40 years in the East that he was completely unaware of the topics revealed in these Notes. Without these incredible explanations, the Arabian Nights would remain only half understood, but with their help, we can learn as much about the Muslims as they know about themselves.
The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 17th, 1885.
Second Notice.
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 £5. 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.
In bringing out his Arabian Nights, Captain Burton has made a bold move to cut out the middleman, the publisher. He has gone directly to the printer, taking on the job of distribution himself. It’s about time someone took action. Authors continue to endure their frustrations, working hard so that others can benefit. Whole editions of travel books are published, yet the author—who should be the most important person—receives a mere £5. Just the other day, Walt Whitman, the most celebrated American poet, and according to many, the greatest writer from across the Atlantic, publicly stated that the profits from his work for an entire year totaled just a few dollars. Captain Burton has broken free from this constraint, and the outcome looks very promising. However, he has faced threats and penalties; one trade journal, the Printing Times and Lithographer, under the leadership of a well-known bookseller famous for buying rare publications, declared that The Arabian Nights would be banned unless its content and morals were beyond reproach! In short, publishers are annoyed and, like the aristocracy, fail to see the need for their own abolition. Yet authors who yearn for independence should not assume that this experiment is simple or likely to succeed regularly. In this specific case, it's about 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 Anagké, 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.
The Thousand Nights and a Night provides a full view of Eastern cultures. However, English readers should expect that the customs of Arabs and Muslims are different from their own. Eastern people tend to see things from a more natural and primitive perspective, expressing their thoughts without the restraint typical of children. Their frankness can be overwhelming, but they are not aware of any inappropriateness, and their rawness is not deliberate. It's just how they are—straightforward and open about topics that many in the West tend to avoid. It's important to note that the separation of the sexes significantly contributes to this openness. Their language is very concrete, with every root being based on tangible concepts; for instance, they equate soul with breath. Even conversations between parents and children are incredibly candid, and the Wazir of Egypt speaks to his daughter, "the Lady of Beauty," in ways that would astonish people in the West. The Arabs are a diverse group, deeply appreciative of beauty, and every young man and woman is described in glowing and passionate terms. We've heard cases in places as far north as chilly Scotland where entire audiences stand in theaters to applaud the entrance of a beautiful woman. In the East, such reactions happen more readily and are quite common. "When the people of Damascus saw Ajib's beauty, brilliance, and perfect grace (he was a wonder of good looks, softer than the northern breeze, sweeter than clear water to a thirsty man, and more pleasant than the health sought by the sick), many followed him, while others sat by the road to admire him as he passed." Arabs have great imaginations, and their world is filled with supernatural beings, surpassing Ovid in the number and creativity of their transformations. They are highly sensitive, often emotional to the point of hysteria, and tend to express everything in superlatives. They fall in love at first sight, and just a glimpse of a face can ignite their passion; they may stop eating or sleeping until they can be near their beloved, sometimes crying until they faint, tearing their clothes, pulling their hair, and striking their faces, only to regain composure long enough to recite poetry—"and he beat his face and head and recited these couplets"—"then she recited, weeping bitterly"—"When the young man heard these words, he wept profusely, until his chest was soaked with tears and he began reciting." This emotional intensity, so different from our more restrained approach, is a result of their hot climate. Moreover, in addition to their passionate nature, they are always acutely aware that every impulse and action is determined by fate, as if they drift without their own will and are powerless against destiny. Much of their conversation consists of invocations to Allah, the All-ruling, All-gracious Allah! This element of fatalism is a key feature in the Nights. Everything that happens is met with acceptance and a belief that nothing can be changed. The Wazir loses an eye, "as fate and fortune decreed," a single pomegranate seed escapes destruction, and the Princess dies as a result; the beautiful youth hidden in a cave to protect him from harm, because astrologers foretold he would die on a certain day, meets his death at that hour despite all precautions. This is just one of countless examples, as Captain Burton points out, illustrating "that the decrees of Anagké, Fate, Destiny, Weird are unavoidable." Yet, it’s interesting to note that a Turkish scholar like Mr. Redhouse, who translated the "Mesnevi," fails to grasp this defining aspect of Muslim belief and confuses it with the Christian concept of Providence and Premonition. As expected, characters in Arabian stories face calamity and death with composure. The end of life isn't a fearsome prospect as it is for us. They die with ease, and when the time comes, they pass away without regret, although the mourning of survivors can often be loud and intense, sometimes lasting for a considerable time. This ease in dying is partly due to their fatalistic worldview and partly a result of climate; in harsher environments, death is terrifying and viewed as the ultimate fear, but in hotter areas, it is much less daunting. All these elements that distinguish Eastern people from ourselves must be considered by readers of Arabian tales, and the rawness, as Captain Burton shows, is just a minor aspect of a larger picture that is otherwise full of light; the overall tone of the Nights "is exceptionally high and pure, often reaching a fervent peak." We have shown how Captain Burton has translated the prose of the Nights—how vigorous yet simple the language is, and how his use of old-fashioned phrasing often softens the starkness of Oriental expression. In translating the poetry, which will ultimately amount to nearly 10,000 lines, he has once again taken a unique approach. He closely preserves the Arabic form, although, as he notes, creating an exact replica of Arabic meters is impossible.
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."
A notable feature in Captain Burton's translation is the frequent appearance of passages in rhythmic prose, known in Arabic as "Saj'a," or the cooing of a dove. These melodious sections sound delightful and often appear unexpectedly, adding charm to intense moments or conveying a vivid sense of beauty in art or nature. We present a few examples of these lyrical snippets embedded like gems in the prose. Their inclusion may seem whimsical or random, but it’s actually a result of careful consideration of the context, as if the storyteller feels an urge to break into a rhythmic flow. The prose flows and lifts into a dance-like rhythm when the King of the Age, wandering in a solitary palace, discovers 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."
"Now, when the Sultan heard the sad voice, he jumped to his feet and followed the sound until he found a curtain hanging over the door of the chamber. He lifted it and saw a young man sitting on a couch about a foot off the ground. He was pleasant to look at, well-formed, and eloquent. His forehead was pale, his cheeks were a rosy pink, and he had a mole on his cheek about the size of a small piece of ambergris."
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.
It is interrupted again to highlight the beauty of one of the three cheerful ladies of Baghdad, sitting under a silk canopy, the curtains “looped up with pearls as big as hazelnuts and even bigger.” We are asked to pay attention to how eastern the metaphors are and how mixed up the compliments are.
"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."
There sat a stunning lady with a bright complexion and a brilliant forehead, her eyebrows arched like a bow. She smelled of ambergris and perfume, and her lips looked like sugar and were as beautiful as carnelian. She was as straight as the letter I, and her face outshone the noon sun. She resembled a galaxy or a dome with golden designs, a bride dressed in the finest attire, or a noble woman from Arabia.
And prose is not thought adequate to do justice to the natural beauty of a garden "like one of the pleasaunces of Paradise."
And prose doesn't seem good enough to capture the natural beauty of a garden "like one of the pleasures 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 was a garden with bright green trees and shiny yellow fruits; its birds were singing clearly and beautifully, and little streams were flowing gently through the lovely land."
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 reward.
It's incredible that these rhythms have never been replicated before. Eastwick made a faint attempt in his "Gulistan," while Mr. Payne completely ignored them, dismissing them as insignificant. They align with Captain Burton's goal of not leaving anything out; presenting the Nights exactly as they are enjoyed by people in the East. Alongside verses that typify the extravagant Arabic sentiment and the rhymed rhythms that are interwoven like precious gems into the prose, the proverbs encapsulating the wit and wisdom of the culture are also rhymed, just like in the original Arabic. What experts in Arabic think of this translation can be seen from one Arabist who stated: “I have to admit, after many years of studying Arabic, that comparing your translation with the text has taught me more than many months of tedious study,” while Englishmen who have lived in the East for years are now realizing that, ultimately, they knew very little, and their education is just beginning with this version of the Arabian Nights. True knowledge comes from knowing how to observe; it’s satisfying to note that Captain Burton's remarkable understanding of Eastern nuances has been well-utilized in accurately conveying the essence of the People of the Sun and providing a genuine version of their Book of Books. The effort put into this edition has been massive. This work could only have been accomplished through relentless and dedicated effort. Nonetheless, it's said to have been "a labour of love," a project that has yielded immense rewards in its own right.
ARABIAN NIGHTS, VOLUME 16 FOOTNOTES
1 (return)
[ Tome xii. is dated 1789,
the other three, 1788, to include them in the "Cabinet."]
1 (return)
[ Volume xii. is dated 1789, the other three, 1788, to include them in the "Cabinet."]
2 (return)
[ The titles of all the vols.
are dated alike, 1793, the actual date of printing.]
2 (return)
[ All the volumes have the same date on their titles, 1793, which is the actual printing date.]
3 (return)
[ This name is not in the
Arabic text, and I have vainly puzzled my brains about its derivation or
meaning.]
3 (return)
[ This name doesn't appear in the Arabic text, and I've been scratching my head trying to figure out its origin or meaning.]
4 (return)
[ This P.N. is, I presume, a
corruption of "Shawalán"=one falling short. The wife "Oitba" is evidently
"Otbá" or "Utbá."]
4 (return)
[ I believe this P.N. is a distortion of "Shawalán," meaning one who falls short. The wife "Oitba" is clearly "Otbá" or "Utbá."]
5 (return)
[ See my Supplemental volume
i. pp. 37-116, "The Ten Wazirs; or, the History of King Azádbakht and his
Son."]
5 (return)
[ Check out my Supplemental volume
i. pp. 37-116, "The Ten Wazirs; or, the Story of King Azádbakht and his
Son."]
6 (return)
[ 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.]
6 (return)
[ 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.]
7 (return)
[ 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—
7 (return)
[ This version of the P.N. is preferred by Prof. R. Hoerning in his "Prisma des Sanherib," etc. Leipzig, 1878. The origin of the name is "Sin akhi-irib"=Sini (Lunus, or the Moon-God) increases brothers. Ptolemy's canon dates his rise to power at B.C. 702, the first year of Elibus or Belibus. For his victories over Babylonia, Palestine, Judea, and Egypt, check any "Dictionary of the Bible," and refer to Byron for the incredible yet childish legend—
The Assyrian came down as a wolf on the fold,]
The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the flock,
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.]
which caused him to lose 185,000 men in one night, struck down by the "Angel of the Lord" (2 Kings xix. 35). Sitting on his throne before Lachish, he is depicted in a bas-relief as a truly noble and kingly figure.
8 (return)
[ I presume that the author
hereby means a "fool," Pers. nádán. But in Assyrian story Nadan
was=Nathan, King of the people of Pukudu, the Pekod of Jeremiah (i. 21)
and other prophets.]
8 (return)
[I assume that the author means a "fool," Pers. nádán. But in Assyrian lore, Nadan was Nathan, King of the people of Pukudu, the Pekod mentioned by Jeremiah (i. 21) and other prophets.]
9 (return)
[ In text always "Atúr," 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), Nabít,
Jarmúk, and Basíl. Ibn Khaldun (iii. 413), in his "Universal History,"
opposes this opinion of Ibn Sa'id.]
9 (return)
[In the text, always "Atúr," the scriptural "Asshur" referring to Assyria, is biblically derived from Asshur, son of Shem (Gen. x. 22), who was worshipped as the original deity. The capital was Nineveh. Weber notes "Nineveh and Thor," reflecting the spelling in his manuscript. According to Arab traditions, "Ashur" had four sons: Iran (the father of the Furs=Persians, the Kurd, or Ghozzi, the Daylams, and the Khazar), Nabít, Jarmúk, and Basíl. Ibn Khaldun (iii. 413), in his "Universal History," disagrees with the views of Ibn Sa'id.]
10 (return)
[ 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.]
10 (return)
[ i.e. "Fish-town" or "town of Nin" =Ninus, the founder. Today, "Naynawah" was the name of a port on the east bank of the Tigris; and modern archaeologists have discovered the old city at Koyunjik, Nabi Yunas, and the mound of Nimrud.]
11 (return)
[ The surroundings suggest
Jehovah, the tribal deity of the Jews. The old version says, "Hicar was a
native of the country of Haram (Harrán), and had brought from thence the
knowledge of the true God; impelled, however, by an irresistible decree,"
etc.]
11 (return)
[ The surroundings indicate Jehovah, the tribal god of the Jews. The previous version states, "Hicar was from the region of Haram (Harrán) and had brought knowledge of the true God from there; however, he was driven by an unavoidable decree," etc.]
12 (return)
[ 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: Littré proposes Galaticus, but admits the want of an
intermediate form. Piers Plowman and Chaucer use "cillatún, which suggests
Pers. "Sakalat, or "Saklatún", 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. Suclát."]
12 (return)
[ i.e. a woolen fabric dyed red. This is why Pyrard (i. 244) refers to "red scarlet," and (vol. ii.) "violet scarlet"; Froissart (15th century) uses "white scarlet," while Marot (16th century) mentions "green scarlet." The term seems to originate from 12th century French, but its exact roots are unclear: Littré suggests Galaticus but acknowledges the lack of an intermediate form. Piers Plowman and Chaucer use "cillatún," which hints at the Persian "Sakalat" or "Saklatún," from which Mr. Skeat proposes "scarlet" is derived. This note is from the voyage of F. Pyrard, etc. London. Hakluyts, M.dccc.lxxxvii.; and the editor references Colonel Yule's M. Polo (ii. chapt. 58) and his "Discursive Glossary s. v. Suclát."]
13 (return)
[ i.e."Al-Kirm," Arab. and
Pers. =a worm, as in Kirmán (see Supplem. vol. i. 40); the coccus ilicis,
vulg. called cochineal.]
13 (return)
[ i.e. "Al-Kirm," Arabic and Persian = a worm, as in Kirmán (see Supplement vol. i. 40); the coccus ilicis, commonly known as cochineal.]
14 (return)
[ 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.]
14 (return)
[ Arabic "Arz," from the Hebrew Arz or Razah (raz=to vibrate), the root {Greek} (cedrus conifera), the Assyrian "Erimu of Lebanon," which is mentioned frequently. The old debate over whether "Razah" means cedar or fir could have been easily resolved if the participants had known that modern Syrians still use the word for the area known as "The Cedars" on the coastal slope of the Lebanon mountains.]
15 (return)
[ 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."]
15 (return)
[ We should say "reading and writing," but the greater challenge of understanding the skeletal eastern characters makes reading more esteemed. They say of a very knowledgeable person, "He reads it off easily like someone drinks water."]
16 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Sáhib
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 Wáw became assimilated to the preceding Já, on account
of the following Kasrah, and this assimilation or "Idghám" is indicated by
Tashdíd. As from "Kayyis" the diminutive "Kuwayyis" is formed, so "Jayyid"
forms the Tasghír, "Juwayyid," which, amongst the Druzes, has the specific
meaning of "deeply versed in religious matters."—ST.)]
16 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Sáhib al-jayyid." ("Jayyid" comes from the root "Jaud," meaning to excel, similar to how "Kayyis" comes from "Kaus" (see Suppl. vol. iv., p.277), "Mayyit" from "Maut," and "Sayyid" from "Saud." The original form was "Jaywid;" then the Wáw merged with the preceding Já due to the following Kasrah, and this merging or "Idghám" is marked by Tashdíd. Just as "Kayyis" forms the diminutive "Kuwayyis," "Jayyid" creates the diminutive "Juwayyid," which, among the Druzes, specifically means "well-versed in religious matters."—ST.)]
17 (return)
[ "Kúl," vulg. for "Kul"; a
form constant in this MS.]
17 (return)
[ "Kúl," slang for "Kul"; a form that remains consistent in this manuscript.]
18 (return)
[ 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.]
18 (return)
[ Gauttier "Sarkhadom," the great usurper Sargon, a contemporary of Merodach Baladan of Babylon and Sabaco I of Ethiopia, 721-702 B.C.: one of the greatest Assyrian kings, who is positioned between Shalmaneser and his son, the famous Sennacherib, who succeeded him. His name is also similar to the biblical Ezarhaddon (Asaridanus), who, however, was the son of Sennacherib and ruled the throne of Babylon in 680 B.C.]
19 (return)
[ Gauttier, pp. 317-319,
has greatly amplified and modified these words of wisdom.]
19 (return)
[ Gauttier, pp. 317-319, has significantly expanded and changed these words of wisdom.]
20 (return)
[ In text "Yá Bunayya"
=lit. "O my little son," a term of special fondness.]
20 (return)
[ In text "Yá Bunayya"
=lit. "Oh my little son," a term of special affection.]
21 (return)
[ Arab. "Jamrah," a word of
doubtful origin, but applied to a tribe strong enough to be
self-dependent. The "Jamarát of the Arabs" were three, Banú Numayr, Banú
Háris (who afterwards confederated with Mashíj) and Banú Dabbah (who
joined the Rikáb), and at last Nomayr remained alone. Hence they said of
it:
21 (return)
[ Arab. "Jamrah," a word of uncertain origin, but used to refer to a tribe that was strong enough to be self-reliant. The "Jamarát of the Arabs" consisted of three groups: Banú Numayr, Banú Háris (who later allied with Mashíj), and Banú Dabbah (who joined the Rikáb), and eventually, only Nomayr was left. That's why they said about it:
"Nomayr the jamrah (also "a live coal") of Arabs are; * And ne'er cease they to burn in fiery war."
"Nomayr the jamrah (also "a live coal") of Arabs are; * And they never stop burning in fierce battle."
See Chenery's Al-Hariri, pp. 343-428.]
See Chenery's Al-Hariri, pp. 343-428.
22 (return)
[ In the Arab.
"Ta'arkalak," which M. Houdas renders "qu'elle ne te retienne dans ses
filets."]
22 (return)
[ In the Arab. "Ta'arkalak," which M. Houdas translates as "may she not hold you in her nets."]
23 (return)
[ A lieu commun in the
East. It is the Heb. "Sháked" 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.]
23 (return)
[ A common sight in the East. It is the Hebrew "Sháked" and the fruit is the "Loz" (Arabic Lauz) = Amygdalus communis, which the Jews see as a sign of spring and which, at certain festivals, they still bring to the synagogue as a representation of the palm branches of the Temple.]
24 (return)
[ The mulberry-tree in
Italy will bear leaves till the end of October and the foliage is bright
as any spring verdure.]
24 (return)
[The mulberry tree in Italy will keep its leaves until the end of October, and the foliage is as bright as any spring greenery.]
25 (return)
[ Gauttier omits this: pas
poli, I suppose.]
25 (return)
[ Gauttier omits this: not polite, I guess.]
26 (return)
[ 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:—
26 (return)
[ The brutal idea comes from the Bible: "Whoever spares the rod hates their child" (Prov. xiii. 24), and "Discipline your son while there is still hope, and don't be too compassionate when he cries" (Prov. xix. 18). Compare the Arab saying, "The green stick is from the trees of Paradise" (Pilgrimage i. 151). However, the more polished version of the saying was left to other writers; for example, "Spare the rod and spoil the child," which appears in Ray's proverbs and is famously featured in Hudibras:—
Love is a boy by poets styled,
Then spare the rod and spoil the child. (ii. 1, 843.)
Love is described as a boy by poets,
So don't discipline and you'll ruin 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."]
It is to the everlasting credit of John Locke, the philosopher, that in a time of widespread violence he had the moral courage to state, "Beating is the worst and thus the last method to be used in disciplining children."
27 (return)
[ Arab. "Dahn" (oil,
ointment) which may also mean "soft sawder."]
27 (return)
[ Arab. "Dahn" (oil, ointment) which can also mean "soft solder."]
28 (return)
[ Aucun roi ne peut
gouverner sans armée et on ne peut avoir une armée sans argent. For a
treatise on this subject see the "Chronique de Tabari," ii. 340.]
28 (return)
[ No king can rule without an army, and you can’t have an army without money. For a treatise on this subject, see the "Chronique de Tabari," ii. 340.]
29 (return)
[ 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 méthodique. J'ai dû aussi supprimer quelques unes, soit parce
qu'elles n'offraient que des préceptes d'une morale banale, soit que
traduites en frangais, elles eussent pû paraître bizarres à des lecteurs
européens. Ce que je dis ici, s'applique également à 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.]
29 (return)
[M. Agoub, in Gauttier (vi. 321), comments on these writings, "These maxims, most of which aren't unworthy of the great times of Greek philosophy, all belong to the Arabic text; I've just organized them in a more systematic order. I also had to remove a few because either they only offered common moral lessons or, when translated into French, they might have seemed odd to European readers. What I say here also applies to those that conclude the story and could serve as the basis for several fables." One might say that the translator is the author's natural enemy.]
30 (return)
[ Arab. "Ammál," now
vulgarly written with initial Hamzah, a favourite expression in Egypt and
meaning "Verily," "I believe you, my boy," and so forth. But "'Ammál" with
the Ayn may also mean "he intended," or "he was about to."]
30 (return)
[ Arab. "Ammál," now commonly written with an initial Hamzah, a popular expression in Egypt meaning "Truly," "I believe you, my friend," and so on. However, "'Ammál" with the Ayn can also mean "he meant to," or "he was going to."]
31 (return)
[ In Gauttier the name is
Ebnazadan, but the Arab. text has "Naudán," which I take to be the Persian
"New of knowledge" as opp. to Nádán, the "unknowing."]
31 (return)
[ In Gauttier the name is Ebnazadan, but the Arab. text has "Naudán," which I understand to mean the Persian "New of knowledge" as opposed to Nádán, the "unknowing."]
32 (return)
[ In Chavis (Weber ii. 58)
and Gauttier (p. 323) Akis, roi de Perse. The second name may be "Shah of
the Ebna" or Persian incolæ of Al-Yaman; aristocratie Persane naturalisée
Arabe (Al-Mas'udi, iv. 188, etc.).]
32 (return)
[ In Chavis (Weber ii. 58) and Gauttier (p. 323) Akis, king of Persia. The second name might be "Shah of the Ebna" or Persian residents of Al-Yaman; Persian aristocracy naturalized as Arabs (Al-Mas'udi, iv. 188, etc.).]
33 (return)
[ i.e. the Lowland of the
Eglantine or Narcissus; Nisrín 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 Buká'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"
(Naysán).]
33 (return)
[ i.e. the Lowland of the Eglantine or Narcissus; Nisrín is also referred to in dictionaries as an island where amber is abundant. There is a slight difference between Buk'ah and Bak'ah. The former, which is the correct form, means a patch of ground or a plain (thus Buká'a= Coelesyria), while Bak'ah refers to a hollow where water gathers. In Chavis, we see "the plain of Harrim," and in Gauttier la plaine de Baschrin; and the appointment was "for the first of the month Niram" (Naysán).]
34 (return)
[ "Pharaoh," which Hebrew
Holy Writ left so vague and unsatisfactory, has become with the Arabs
"Fir'aun", the dynastic name of Egyptian kings, as Kisrà (Chosroës) of the
Persians, Tobba of the Himyarites, Kaysar (Cæsar) of the Romans, Jalut
(Goliath) of the Phoenicians, Faghfur of the Chinese, Khákán of the
Tartars, Adfonsh (Alfonso) of the Spanish, and Aguetíd of the Berbers. Ibn
Khaldún iv. 572.]
34 (return)
[ "Pharaoh," which the Hebrew scriptures left so unclear and unsatisfactory, has become "Fir'aun" in Arabic, the dynastic title for Egyptian kings, just as Kisrà (Chosroës) is for the Persians, Tobba for the Himyarites, Kaysar (Cæsar) for the Romans, Jalut (Goliath) for the Phoenicians, Faghfur for the Chinese, Khákán for the Tartars, Adfonsh (Alfonso) for the Spanish, and Aguetíd for the Berbers. Ibn Khaldún iv. 572.]
35 (return)
[ "Mizr" in
Assyrian="Musur," in Heb. "Misraim" (the dual Misrs, whose duality
permeated all their polity), and in Arab. "Misr," the O. Egypt. "Há káhi
Ptáh" (the Land of the great God, Ptah), and the Coptic "Tá-mera"=the Land
of the Nile flood, ignoring, I may add, all tradition of a Noachian or
general deluge.]
35 (return)
[ "Mizr" in Assyrian="Musur," in Hebrew "Misraim" (the dual Misrs, a concept that influenced their entire governance), and in Arabic "Misr," the ancient term for Egypt. "Há káhi Ptáh" (the Land of the great God, Ptah), and the Coptic "Tá-mera"=the Land of the Nile flood, not considering, I should mention, any tradition of a Noachian or universal flood.]
36 (return)
[ 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.]
36 (return)
[ The simplicity of old Assyrian letters is clearly preserved, as we can see by comparing those letters with the cuneiform inscriptions, etc., by S. Abden Smith (Pfeiffer, Leipsic, 1887). One of them starts like this, "The will of the King to Sintabni-Uzur. Greetings from me to you. I hope you are well. About Sinsarra-utzur whom you sent to me, what is your report?" etc. We find phrases like "May the great Gods, who support your reign, keep you for a hundred years;" and also "Peace to the King, my lord," etc.]
37 (return)
[ Arab. "Yaum al-Khamís."
For the week-days see vol. vi. 190, and for a longer notice, Al-Mas'udi,
iii. 422-23.]
37 (return)
[ Arab. "Day of Thursday." For the weekdays, see vol. vi. 190, and for a more detailed account, Al-Mas'udi, iii. 422-23.]
38 (return)
[ In the text "Kál"
(al-Ráwí), "the Reciter saith"—which formula I omit here and
elsewhere.]
38 (return)
[ In the text "Kál" (al-Ráwí), "the Reciter says"—which formula I leave out here and elsewhere.]
39 (return)
[ i.e. "The Father of the
little Fish," in Gauttier (vii. 329) "Abou Soméika."]
39 (return)
[ i.e. "The Father of the little Fish," in Gauttier (vii. 329) "Abou Soméika."]
40 (return)
[ By way of insult; as I
have before noticed.]
40 (return)
[ As a way to insult; as I have mentioned before.]
41 (return)
[ He had now learned that
Nadan had ruined him.]
41 (return)
[ He had now realized that Nadan had destroyed him.]
42 (return)
[ The wife (in p. 155;
"Ashghaftíní") 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 Sankharib.]
42 (return)
[ The wife (on p. 155; "Ashghaftíní") is referred to as "You have captivated me" from the root "Shaghaf"=intense love, joy, sorrow. Chavis calls her Zefagnie; Gauttier omits the name, considering it unappealing. In the earlier version, she is introduced as Sankharib's aunt (father's sister).]
43 (return)
[ The old version
attributes all this device to "Zefagnie;" thus injuring the unity and the
interest of the tale.]
43 (return)
[ The old version
attributes all this device to "Zefagnie;" thus harming the consistency and the
appeal of the story.]
44 (return)
[ Arab. "Jund" plur.
"Junúd," 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.]
44 (return)
[ Arab. "Jund" plur. "Junúd," a term mainly used for regular troops under the Government, as opposed to soldiers who served with the Amirs or powerful barons—this situation still exists in non-British India.]
45 (return)
[ Who thus makes a
"Ma'adabah"=wake or funeral feast before his death. See vol. viii. 231.]
45 (return)
[ Who therefore holds a "Ma'adabah" = wake or funeral feast before he dies. See vol. viii. 231.]
46 (return)
[ i.e. "Father of the
Fishlet", in the old version "Yapousmek" (Yá Abú Sumayk).]
46 (return)
[ i.e. "Father of the Fishlet", in the old version "Yapousmek" (Yá Abú Sumayk).]
47 (return)
[ In Chavis he becomes "an
old slave, a magician, stained with the greatest crimes, who has the air
and figure of Hicar."]
47 (return)
[ In Chavis, he becomes "an old slave, a magician, marked by the worst crimes, who has the look and stature of Hicar."]
48 (return)
[ A formula which announces
the death of his supposed enemy.]
48 (return)
[ A formula that declares the death of his supposed enemy.]
49 (return)
[ Arab. "
Matmúrah"=Sardábah (i. 340), a silo for storing grain, an underground cell
(ii. 39).]
49 (return)
[ Arab. "Matmúrah"=Sardábah (i. 340), a storage silo for grain, an underground chamber (ii. 39).]
50 (return)
[ See text "Náhú" from
"Nauh"=ceremonious keening for the dead. The general term for the wail is
"Walwalah" or "Wilwál" (an onomatopoy) and for the public wailing-woman
"Naddábah."]
50 (return)
[ See text "Náhú" from
"Nauh" = ceremonial mourning for the dead. The general term for the wail is
"Walwalah" or "Wilwál" (an onomatopoeia), and for the public wailing woman
"Naddábah."]
51 (return)
[ Here we find the Doric
form "Rahúm" for "Rahím," or it may simply be the intensive and emphatic
form, as "Nazúr"=one who looks intently for "Názir," a looker.]
51 (return)
[ Here we find the Doric version "Rahúm" for "Rahím," or it could just be the strong and emphatic form, like "Nazúr" meaning one who looks closely for "Názir," a looker.]
52 (return)
[ In the old version "a
tenth part of the revenues." The "Kasím" of the text is an unusual word
which M. Houdas would render revenues en nature, as opposed to Khiráj,
revenues en argent. I translate it by "tax tribute."]
52 (return)
[ In the old version "a tenth of the revenues." The "Kasím" in the text is a rare word that M. Houdas would translate as natural revenues, as opposed to Khiráj, cash revenues. I translate it as "tax tribute."]
53 (return)
[ In text "'Azzámín, "i.e.
men who recite "'Azm," mostly Koranic versets which avert evil.]
53 (return)
[ In text "'Azzámín, "meaning men who recite "'Azm," mostly Koranic verses that ward off evil.]
54 (return)
[ This may either be
figurative or literal—upon the ashes where the fire had been; even
as the father of Sayf al-Mulúk sat upon the floor of his audience-hall
(vol. vii. 314).]
54 (return)
[ This could be either symbolic or direct—on the ashes where the fire used to be; just like the father of Sayf al-Mulúk sat on the floor of his audience hall (vol. vii. 314).]
55 (return)
[ 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.]
55 (return)
[ In text "Ya'tadir"—from 'Adr=heavy rain, boldness. But in this manuscript, the dots are often left out and the word may be Ya'tazir=find excuse.]
56 (return)
[ In the old version the
wife is made to disclose the secret of her husband being alive—again
a change for the worse.]
56 (return)
[In the updated version, the wife reveals the secret that her husband is alive—this is another negative change.]
57 (return)
[ Here "Wayha-v." and
before "Wayla-k": see vols. v. 258; vii. 127 and iii. 82.]
57 (return)
[ Here "Wayha-v." and before "Wayla-k": see vols. v. 258; vii. 127 and iii. 82.]
58 (return)
[ 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.]
58 (return)
[ The King, like many Eastern rulers, never takes responsibility for his own mistakes and rashness: this was destined for him and his victim by Fate.]
59 (return)
[ 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.]
59 (return)
[ The older version reads "Roc" and tells us that "it is a massive bird found in the deserts of Africa: it can carry two hundred pounds; and many believe that the concept of this bird is just a figment of imagination." In Weber ii. 63, this is the device of "Zafagnie," who travels with her husband to Egypt.]
60 (return)
[ 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?). "Dabshalímat"=the Dabshalíms,
was the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanáth (Somnauth) in Western
India.]
60 (return)
[ This name seems to be a distortion. The sound, however, closely resembles "Dabshalim" (which is a fitting name for such a Prince, meaning in their language a powerful King), who appears in chapter 1 of the "Fables of Pilpay" (Bidpai=Bidyapati=Lord of Lore?). "Dabshalímat" = the Dabshalíms, was the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanáth (Somnauth) in Western India.]
61 (return)
[ Arab. "Tín"=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'Archéologie 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. Zagázig, where excavations are
still being pushed on.]
61 (return)
[ Arab. "Tín"=clay, mud, which was used with the Tob (adobe, sun-dried brick) to build the walls of Egypt and Assyria. M.G. Maspero, in his great booklet "L'Archéologie Egyptienne" (p. 7. Paris, Quantin, 1887), illustrates this ancient industry that continues with all its tools to this day. The average size was 22 X 11 X 14 cm; the larger size was 38 X 18 X 14 cm, with various intermediate sizes. These blocks formed the cores of temple walls, and when covered with granite, syenite, alabaster, and other stones, they created a stunning appearance; however, once the outer layer was removed, they quickly weathered down to resemble mud piles. This was mostly the state of the ruins of grand Bubastis ("Pi-Pasht") near Zagázig, where excavations are still ongoing.]
62 (return)
[ 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."]
62 (return)
[ The old version has
"Masser, Grand Cairo (back in the days of the Pharaohs!); named after Misraim, the son of Cham."]
63 (return)
[ In Chavís, "Abicam, a
Chaldæan astrologer;" in Gauttier "Abimacam."]
63 (return)
[ In Chavís, "Abicam, a Chaldæan astrologer;" in Gauttier "Abimacam."]
64 (return)
[ In Al-Harírí (p. 409) we
read, "Hospitality is three days;" and a Hadís of the Prophet confirms the
liberal practice of The Ignorance:—"The entertainment of a guest is
three days, and the viaticum ("Jáizah") 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.]
64 (return)
[ In Al-Harírí (p. 409) we read, "Hospitality lasts for three days;" and a Hadith from the Prophet supports the common practice of The Ignorance:—"The entertainment of a guest is three days, the provision ("Jáizah") is a day and a night, and anything beyond that is considered a charitable gift." On the first day, generosity and kindness are displayed; on the second and third days, the guest is treated according to the household's usual customs, and afterward, they are given provisions for a day and a night. See Lane: A. Nights, i. 486; also The Nights, vol. i. 3.]
65 (return)
[ i.e. Not standing
astraddle, or in other such indecorous attitude.]
65 (return)
[ i.e. Not standing with your legs spread apart, or in any other inappropriate position.]
66 (return)
[ Chavis, "Bilelsanam, the
oracle of Bel, the chief God of the Assyrian: "Gauttier, Une idole Bíl.
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.]
66 (return)
[ Chavis, "Bilelsanam, the oracle of Bel, the chief god of the Assyrians: "Gauttier, A Bíl Idol. Bel (or Ba'al or Belus, the main god of the Phoenicians and Canaanites) might represent Hobal, the largest idol in the Meccan Pantheon, which was carried on raids and expeditions to give their plunder a religious significance. Tabari iii. 17. Clearly, the author views it as an idol.]
67 (return)
[ The Syro-solar
month=April; much celebrated by poets and fictionists: rain falling at
such time into shells becomes pearls and upon serpents poison.]
67 (return)
[ The Syro-solar month is April; it's widely celebrated by poets and writers: rain that falls during this time turns into pearls in shells and becomes poison when it lands on serpents.]
68 (return)
[ The text has "Baybúnah,"
prop. Bábúnaj in Arab., and in Pers. "Bábúk," or "Bábúnak"=the white
camomile-flower. See vol. iii. 58.]
68 (return)
[ The text refers to "Baybúnah," also known as Bábúnaj in Arabic, and in Persian it's "Bábúk," or "Bábúnak," which means the white chamomile flower. See vol. iii. 58.]
69 (return)
[ "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.]
69 (return)
[ "Khabata"="He (the camel)
pawed the ground." The primary meaning is to hit, and it's also used to describe a blind camel that paws at the ground and stumbles, or someone who shakes a tree for its leaves; finally, it refers to someone who begs for alms. See Chenery's Al-Hariri, p. 447.]
70 (return)
[ Arab. "Karz"=moneys lent
in interest and without fixed term of payment, as opp. to "Dayn."]
70 (return)
[ Arab. "Karz"=money lent with interest and no fixed repayment term, as opposed to "Dayn."]
71 (return)
[ In text "Kintár"=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
Kintár 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 Kintár of gold is twelve hundred ounces." Baron de
Slane (Ibn Khaldun i. 210) computes 100 Kintárs=1 million of francs.]
71 (return)
[ In text "Kintár"=a
quintal, 98 to 99 lbs. avoir.: in round numbers a cwt. a hundred weight:
see vol. ii. 233. The old version explains it as "A golden coin,
equivalent to three hundred French livres (?)." Regarding the value of the
Kintár of gold, experts disagree. Some value it at 40 ounces, while others define it as a leather bag containing 1,080 to 1,100 dinars, and others as 100 rotls (lbs.) of precious metal; while Al-Makrizi mentions that Mohammed the Apostle stated, "The Kintár of gold is twelve hundred ounces." Baron de Slane (Ibn Khaldun i. 210) calculates 100 Kintárs=1 million francs.]
72 (return)
[ In the text "wa lá ahad
tafawwaha fina."]
72 (return)
[ In the text "there is no one who has blown away from us."]
73 (return)
[ Arab.
"Falsafah"=philosophy: see vols. v. 234 and vii. 145.]
73 (return)
[ Arab. "Falsafah"=philosophy: see vols. v. 234 and vii. 145.]
74 (return)
[ In the text
"Fa-yatrahúna," masc. for fem.]
74 (return)
[ In the text
"Fa-yatrahúna," masculine form for feminine.]
75 (return)
[ 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.]
75 (return)
[ The writer likely recalled that cats were revered as sacred animals by the Egyptians: see Herod., ii. 66, and Diod. Sic., who recounts (vol. i. p. 94) a Roman executed under Ptolemy Auletes for accidentally killing one of these holy creatures. The artists of Bubastis, whose ruins are now being scientifically explored for the first time, designed the animal in bronze with remarkable skill mirroring nature.]
76 (return)
[ M. Houdas explains this
miswritten passage, Quand le soleil fut levé et qu'il pénétra par ces
ouvertures (lis. abkhásh, trou de flûte), il répandit le sable dans ces
cylindres formés par la lumière 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-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.)]
76 (return)
[ M. Houdas clarifies this miswritten passage: "When the sun rose and entered through these openings (like a flute hole), it spread the sand across these cylinders formed by the sunlight." It’s not very clear. I gather that the Sage went behind the Palace and created a narrow east-west hole through a mound of earth, which he partially filled with sand. So, when the sun rose, its rays hit it and made it look like a newly made cord of white flax. M. Agoub (in Gauttier vol. vi. 344) avoids the whole issue, as he often does. (The idea, as I see it—and I believe it’s also what M. Houdas means—is that Haykar created beams of light in an otherwise dark room by drilling holes in the back wall and spreading sand over them, so that, as the sun’s rays passed through, it appeared like ropes. Hence he mockingly tells Pharaoh, "Have these ropes picked up, and whenever you want, I can twist you something like them”—interpreting “Aftilu,” 1st person aorist instead of “Iftil," 2nd person imperative.—ST.)]
77 (return)
[ Gauttier (vi. 347), Ces
présens ne sont pas dignes de lui; mais peu de chose contents les rois.]
77 (return)
[Gauttier (vi. 347), These gifts are not worthy of him; but even small things please kings.]
78 (return)
[ 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 secrète de Heycar était de sauver la vie à
l'ingrat qui avait conspiré contre la sienne. Il voulait pour toute
vengeance, le mettre désormais dans l'impossibilité de nuire et
l'abandonner ensuite à ses remords, persuadé que le remords n'est pas le
moindre châtiment du coupable. True nonsense this when talking of a
character born bad: its only remorse is not to have done worse than bad.]
78 (return)
[ Haykar is a Sage who follows the religion of nature, "Love your friends and hate your enemies." Gauttier (vii. 349) adds a touch of Christian and French sentiment to this—Heycar's secret intention was to spare the life of the ungrateful person who had conspired against him. He sought for revenge only to prevent that person from causing harm again and then leave him to his regrets, believing that remorse is one of the worst punishments for the guilty. This is complete nonsense when discussing a character who is inherently bad: their only regret is that they didn't do worse than they already have.]
79 (return)
[ Striking the nape being
the Moslem equivalent for "boxing ears."]
79 (return)
[ Striking the nape is the Muslim equivalent of "boxing ears."]
80 (return)
[ With this formula compare
Chaucer, "The Manciple's Tale."]
80 (return)
[ Use this formula to compare Chaucer's "The Manciple's Tale."]
81 (return)
[ In the text "Znnákt-ha,"
which is unintelligible, although the sense be clear.]
81 (return)
[ In the text "Znnákt-ha," which doesn’t make sense, even though the meaning is clear.]
82 (return)
[ A bird unknown to the
dictionaries, apparently a species of hawk.]
82 (return)
[ A bird not found in the dictionaries, seemingly a type of hawk.]
83 (return)
[ In the text "Júrah Syán"
for "Júrah Sayyál."]
83 (return)
[ In the text "Júrah Syán"
for "Júrah Sayyál."]
84 (return)
[ The tree having furnished
the axe-helve.]
84 (return)
[ The tree provided the axe handle.]
85 (return)
[ M. Houdas translates Tu
as médit de moi et tu m'as accablé de tes méchancetés.]
85 (return)
[M. Houdas translates "Tu" as "You have meditated on me and you have overwhelmed me with your wickedness."]
86 (return)
[ In text "Alif, bá, tá,
sá," the latter written with a Sin instead of a Thá, showing the vulgar
use which extends from Alexandria to Meccah.]
86 (return)
[ In text "Alif, bá, tá, sá," the last one is written with a Sin instead of a Thá, showing the common use that extends from Alexandria to Mecca.]
87 (return)
[ So in French, deriding
the difference between written and spoken English, Ecrivez Salmonassar,
prononcez crocodile.]
87 (return)
[ So in French, mocking the gap between written and spoken English, Write Salmonassar, pronounce crocodile.]
88 (return)
[ Because he owes thee more
than a debt of life.]
88 (return)
[ Because he owes you more than just a debt of life.]
89 (return)
[ i.e. "Tammat"=She (the
tale) is finished.]
89 (return)
[ i.e. "Tammat"=She (the tale) is done.]
90 (return)
[ 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 Zutulbé," vol. i. pp. 2-69. Gauttier,
Histoire du Khalyfe de Baghdad, vol. vii. pp.117-150.]
90 (return)
[ MSS. pp.217-265. See the
"Arabian Tales," translated by Robert Heron (Edinburgh 1792), where
it is "The Robber-Caliph; or Adventures of Haroun Alraschid, with the
Princess of Persia, and the fair Zutulbé," vol. i. pp. 2-69. Gauttier,
Histoire du Khalyfe de Baghdad, vol. vii. pp.117-150.]
91 (return)
[ In text "Ahádís," esp.
referred to the sayings of Mohammed, and these are divided into two great
sections, the "Ahádís al-Nabawí," or the actual words pronounced by the
Apostle; and the "Ahádís al-Kudus," or the sentences attributed to the
Archangel Gabriel.]
91 (return)
[ In the text "Ahádís," it specifically refers to the sayings of Mohammed, which are divided into two main sections: the "Ahádís al-Nabawí," or the actual words spoken by the Prophet; and the "Ahádís al-Kudus," or the phrases attributed to the Archangel Gabriel.]
92 (return)
[ 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
Ramazán fast and al-Kurbán during the annual Pilgrimage. The dole must
consist of at least a "Sa'" = 7 lbs. in grain, dates, &c.]
92 (return)
[ Heron mentions "the Festival of Haraphat," which adds an element of absurdity. This is the day of the sermon, when the pilgrims rest at Muzdalifah (Pilgrimage iii. 265). Kusayy, an ancestor of the Apostle, was the first to host a public meal at this site, a tradition continued by Harun al-Rashid, Zubaydah, and Sha'ab, mother of Caliph al-Muktadir (Tabari ii. 368). Giving to charity is mandatory during the two major 'Id festivals: al-Fitr, which marks the end of the Ramazán fast, and al-Kurbán, which occurs during the annual Pilgrimage. The donation must consist of at least a "Sa'" = 7 lbs. of grain, dates, etc.]
93 (return)
[ i.e. habited themselves
in the garments of little people: so to "enlarge the turband" is to assume
the rank of an 'Álim or learned man. "Jayb," the breast of a coat is
afterwards used in the sense of a pocket.]
93 (return)
[ i.e. dressed themselves in the clothing of common people: so to "enlarge the turban" means to take on the status of a learned person or scholar. "Jayb," which refers to the breast of a coat, is later used to mean a pocket.]
94 (return)
[ 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.]
94 (return)
[ Either the Caliph believed that the white wrist signified a "promise of better things ahead and behind," or he suggested marriage as a whim, which makes sense when divorce only requires two words.]
95 (return)
[ In text "Nakdí" = the
actual as opposed to the contingent dowry: sec vols. vii. 126; ix. 32.]
95 (return)
[ In text "Nakdí" = the actual dowry rather than the conditional one: see vols. vii. 126; ix. 32.]
97 (return)
[ In text "Bashákhín" plur.
of "Bashkhánah:" see Suppl. vols. ii. 119; iii. 87.]
97 (return)
[ In text "Bashákhín" is the plural of "Bashkhánah:" see Suppl. vols. ii. 119; iii. 87.]
98 (return)
[ In Heron he becomes
"Kassera-Abocheroan." Anushirwan (in full Anúshínrawán = 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).]
98 (return)
[ In Heron, he is known as "Kassera-Abocheroan." Anushirwan (full name Anúshínrawán = sweet of soul) is commonly believed to have started his reign poorly, like many Eastern tyrants, and later become the most just of kings. However, none of this is mentioned in Tabari (ii. 159).]
99 (return)
[ 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."]
99 (return)
[ He was outraged because he was teased about having married a beggar girl like good King Cophetua. In Heron, he is "touched by such a thoughtful response."]
100 (return)
[ Plur. "Katáif," a kind
of pancake made of flour and sugar (or honey) and oil or butter.]
100 (return)
[ Plur. "Katáif," a type of pancake made with flour and sugar (or honey) and oil or butter.]
101 (return)
[ Arab. "Sakká" = a
water-carrier, generally a bad lot. Of the "Sakká Sharbah," who supplies
water to passengers in the streets, there is an illustration in Lane; M.
E. chapt. xiv.]
101 (return)
[ Arab. "Sakká" = a water-carrier, usually not a good person. There's an illustration of the "Sakká Sharbah," who provides water to people in the streets, in Lane; M. E. chapt. xiv.]
102 (return)
[ 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.]
102 (return)
[ In the text "Kahbah" a derogatory term = our prostitute (i.e. hired woman): it is shockingly common in everyday conversation. See vol. ii. 70.]
103 (return)
[ Arab. "Sibák" usually =
a leash (for falconry, etc.).]
103 (return)
[ Arab. "Sibák" typically = a leash (for falconry, etc.).]
104 (return)
[ I have emphasised this
detail which subsequently becomes a leading incident.]
104 (return)
[ I've highlighted this detail because it later turns into a key event.]
105 (return)
[ Usual formulæ when a
respectable person is seen drinking: the same politeness was also in use
throughout the civilised parts of mediæval Europe. See the word "Hanian"
(vol. ii. 5), which at Meccah and elsewhere is pronounced also
"Haniyyan."]
105 (return)
[ Common phrases used when a respectable person is spotted drinking: the same courtesy was practiced across the civilized regions of medieval Europe. Refer to the term "Hanian" (vol. ii. 5), which at Mecca and other places is also pronounced "Haniyyan."]
106 (return)
[ In text "Yá Ta'ís," a
favorite expression in this MS. Page 612 (MS.) has "Tá'ish," a clerical
error, and in page 97 we have "Yá Ta'ásat-ná" = O our misery!]
106 (return)
[In the text "Yá Ta'ís," a common expression in this manuscript. Page 612 (MS.) has "Tá'ish," which is a clerical error, and on page 97 we find "Yá Ta'ásat-ná" = O our misery!]
107 (return)
[ As might a "picker-up
of unconsidered trifles."]
107 (return)
[ As might a "collector of overlooked details."]
108 (return)
[ In text "Akbá' wa
Zarábíl." I had supposed the first to be the Pers. Kabá = a short coat or
tunic, with the Arab. 'Ayn (the second is the common corruption for
"Zarábín" = 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. ("Akbá'" 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 "'Araqíyah." —ST.)]
108 (return)
[ In text "Akbá' wa Zarábíl." I had thought the first meant the Persian Kabá = a short coat or tunic, with the Arabic 'Ayn (the second is the common mistake for "Zarábín" = slaves' shoes, slippers: see vol. x. 1), but M. Hondas translates it as neither calottes nor calecons, and for the first word here and in MS. p.227 he reads "'Arakiyah" = skull-cap: see vol. i. 215. ("Akbá'" is the plural of "Kub'," which appears infra, p.227 of the Arabic MS., and in casual language means any part of a garment that covers the head, like the hood of a Burnus or the top piece of a Kalansuwah; it can also refer to a skull-cap, usually called "'Araqíyah." —ST.)]
109 (return)
[ Heron dubs him "Hazeb
(Hájib) Yamaleddin." In text "'Alái al-Dín;" 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 Arabicè earlier in the tale; but it is the
Ráwi's practice to begin with the vague and to end in specification. I
have not, however, followed his example here or elsewhere.]
109 (return)
[ Heron calls him "Hazeb (Hájib) Yamaleddin." In the text, he is referred to as "'Alái al-Dín;" and in many instances, it is casually shortened to "'Ali" (p. 228, etc.). For the different ways to write the name, see Suppl. vol. iii. 30. The author could have mentioned the young Chamberlain's name in Arabic earlier in the story; but the Ráwi typically starts with something vague and then gets specific. However, I haven't followed that approach here or anywhere else.]
110 (return)
[ i.e. Destiny so willed
it. For the Pen and the Preserved Tablet see vol. v. 322.]
110 (return)
[ i.e. Fate made it happen. For the Pen and the Preserved Tablet, see vol. v. 322.]
111 (return)
[ This was the custom not
only with Harun as Mr. Heron thinks, but at the Courts of the Caliphs
generally.]
111 (return)
[ This was the practice not just with Harun, as Mr. Heron believes, but at the courts of the Caliphs in general.]
112 (return)
[ In text "Ghiyár," 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.]
112 (return)
[ In text "Ghiyár," Arabic. = any item of clothing or uniform that sets apart a particular group, like soldiers: in Persian = a strip of yellow cloth worn by Jews who are subjects of the Shah.]
113 (return)
[ Arab. "Zarbúl tákí,"
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.]
113 (return)
[ Arab. "Zarbúl tákí," the latter meaning "high-heeled." It might also mean "fenestrated, or open-worked like a window." So "poules" or windows cut in the upper leathers of his shoes. Chaucer, The Miller's Tale.]
114 (return)
[ "Mayzar," in Pers. = a
turband: in Arab. "Miizar" = a girdle; a waistcloth.]
114 (return)
[ "Mayzar," in Persian = a turban; in Arabic "Miizar" = a belt; a waistcloth.]
115 (return)
[ Arab. "Kaus al-Bundúk"
(or Banduk) a pellet-bow, the Italian arcobugio, the English arquebuse;
for which see vol. i. 10. Usually the "Kís" 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'était
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-Bundukáni = the cross-bow man, or rather the man of the pellet-bow was,
according to the Ráwí, the name by which the Caliph was known in this
disguise. Al-Zahir Baybars al- Bundukdárí, the fourth Baharite Soldan
(A.D. 1260-77), was so entitled because he had been a slave to a
Bundukdár, 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." (!)]
115 (return)
[ Arab. "Kaus al-Bundúk" (or Banduk) refers to a pellet-bow, the Italian arcobugio, and the English arquebuse; for details, see vol. i. 10. Usually, the "Kís" is the Giberne or pellet-bag, but here it means the bow-cover. Gauttier notes (vii. 131):—Bondouk means "arquebuse" in Arabic, and Albondoukani means "the arquebusier"; as one can see, it was the password used by the Khalyfe. He suggests that firearms were known during the time of Harun al-Rashid (A.D. 786-809). Al-Bundukáni, meaning the cross-bow man, or more accurately, the pellet-bow man, was, according to the Ráwí, the name by which the Caliph was known in this disguise. Al-Zahir Baybars al-Bundukdárí, the fourth Baharite Sultan (A.D. 1260-77), was given this title because he had once been a slave to a Bundukdár, an officer comparable to 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), changes his skin tone, dyes his beard and eyebrows, wears a large coarse turban, a buff vest with a wide leather belt, a simple robe, and sturdy leather half-boots, thus "assuming the garb of an Arab from the desert." (!)]
118 (return)
[ 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 kírát (carat) or 127/128 of an English grain, avoir.]
118 (return)
[ Arab. "Habbah" = a grain (of barley, etc.), a small coin, a tiny amount: it is also used for a gold bead shaped like a cube that is part of the Egyptian woman's headdress (Lane M.E., Appendix A). As a weight, it is the 48th of a dirham, a third of a kírát (carat), or 127/128 of an English grain, avoir.]
119 (return)
[ In text "Mahmá" = as
often as = kullu-má. 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- má) which gives no sense except by the addition
thereto of two words, or the shortening thereof to two letters (i.e. má);
and in the first case there is adhesion and in the second compulsion?"
(Chenery, pp. 246-253).]
119 (return)
[ In text "Mahmá" = as
often as = kullu-má. This is the eleventh question of the twelve in
Al-Hariri, Ass. xxiv., and the sixth of Ass. xxxvi. The former states, "What
is the noun (kullu- má) that only makes sense when you add two words to it, or shorten it to two letters (i.e. má);
in the first case, it's combined, and in the second, it's forced?"
(Chenery, pp. 246-253).]
120 (return)
[ 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.]
120 (return)
[ In Chavis and Cazotte he peeks through the keyhole that an Eastern key doesn’t allow, as the holes are in the bolt. See Index, Suppl. vol. v.]
121 (return)
[ In text "Kábal-ki,"
which I suspect to be a clerical error for "Kátal-ki" = Allah strike thee
dead. See vol. iv. 264, 265. (One of the meanings of "Mukábalah," the
third form of "kabila," is "requital," "retaliation." The words in the
text could therefore be translated: "may God requite thee."—ST.)]
121 (return)
[ In the text "Kábal-ki," which I believe is a typo for "Kátal-ki" = May God strike you dead. See vol. iv. 264, 265. (One of the meanings of "Mukábalah," the third form of "kabila," is "recompense," "retaliation." The words in the text could therefore be translated: "may God recompense you."—ST.)]
122 (return)
[ In Chavis and Cazotte
she swears "by the name of God which is written on our Great Prophet's
forehead."]
122 (return)
[ In Chavis and Cazotte
she swears "by the name of God that's written on our Great Prophet's
forehead."]
123 (return)
[ Arab. "Yá Luss"; for
this word = the Gr. {Greek}; see Suppl. vol. v. index.]
123 (return)
[ Arab. "Yá Luss"; for this word = the Gr. {Greek}; see Suppl. vol. v. index.]
124 (return)
[ "Al-Nátúr," 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 à toi, ou bien
es-tu seulement la gardienne de la vigne? (The verb záraba, 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 ("tuzáribí," 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, "tuzáribí" means here
simply: "Dost thou play the part of."—ST.)]
124 (return)
[ "Al-Nátúr," the keeper, especially of a vineyard, is a term adopted in Persian. The Caliph asks, Is this a legitimate situation and do you have the authority to resolve it definitively? M. Houdas translates it as, Are the grapes yours, or are you just the caretaker of the vineyard? (The verb záraba, in the 3rd form, followed by the accusative, means "to join someone in partnership." The meaning of the passage seems to convey: Do you own the grapes yourself, or are you ("tuzáribí," 2 fem. sing.) in partnership with the vineyard keeper? The term may be chosen because it allows for another interpretation, which in English could be conveyed as a "sleeping" partnership. However, it's possible that "tuzáribí" simply means: "Are you playing the part of."—ST.)]
125 (return)
[ The innuendo is
intelligible and I may draw attention to the humorous skill with which the
mother-in-law's character is drawn.]
125 (return)
[ The implied meaning is clear, and I want to highlight the witty way in which the mother-in-law's character is portrayed.]
126 (return)
[ In text "Aská-hu
'alakah" = gave him a good sound drubbing ('alakah), as a robber would
apply to a Judge had he the power.]
126 (return)
[ In text "Aská-hu 'alakah" = gave him a solid beating ('alakah), like a robber would if he could challenge a judge.]
127 (return)
[ Lest he happen to meet
an unveiled woman on the stairs; the usual precaution is to cry "Dastúr!"
by your leave (Persian).]
127 (return)
[In case he encounters an unveiled woman on the stairs, the usual practice is to call out "Dastúr!" to ask for permission (Persian).]
128 (return)
[ Arab. "Khayr"—a
word of good omen.]
128 (return)
[ Arab. "Khayr"—a word that signifies something positive.]
129 (return)
[ In Chavis and Cazotte
the mother gives her daughter's name as Zutulbé (?) and her own Lelamain
(?).]
129 (return)
[ In Chavis and Cazotte, the mother names her daughter Zutulbé (?) and refers to herself as Lelamain (?).]
130 (return)
[ In text "Waliyah" or
"Waliyáh" = and why?]
130 (return)
[ In text "Waliyah" or "Waliyáh" = and why?]
131 (return)
[ The "Wronged"
(Al-Mazlúm) 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 protège les malheureux et les orphelins (vii.
133).]
131 (return)
[ The "Wronged" (Al-Mazlúm) refers to the Caliph who was being mistreated and his future role as a son-in-law. Gauttier, who translates the story rather superficially, states Dieu protège les malheureux et les orphelins (vii. 133).]
132 (return)
[ 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.]
132 (return)
[ This is meant to showcase the impressive qualities of the Caliph, and it would be just as admired by the typical coffeehouse crowd as it would annoy the free and independent Brit.]
133 (return)
[ The "Street of the
Copperas-maker": the name, as usual, does not appear till further on in
the tale.]
133 (return)
[ The "Street of the Copperas-maker": the name, as usual, doesn’t show up until later in the story.]
134 (return)
[ In text "Rukhám" =
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 Gharíb 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.]
134 (return)
[ In text "Rukhám" = marble or alabaster, used here as building material: so "Murakhkhim" = a marble-cutter, simply means a stone-mason. I should mention the recent rediscovery of the porphyry quarries in Middle Egypt, along with the gypsum found a bit inland of Ras Gharíb to the west of the Suez Gulf. Both materials were widely used by the ancient Egyptians, and we can now reasonably expect to find the lost sites in areas like Tunis and other parts of Northern Africa, where Rosso antico and other high-quality stones were extracted.]
135 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Hásil" also
meaning the taxes, the revenue.]
135 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Hásil" also means the taxes, the revenue.]
136 (return)
[ In text "Ká'ah" = a
saloon: see vols. i. 85; i. 292; and vii. 167.]
136 (return)
[ In text "Ká'ah" = a bar: see vols. i. 85; i. 292; and vii. 167.]
138 (return)
[ The Jinn here was
Curiosity, said to be a familiar of the sex feminine, but certainly not
less intimate with "the opposite."]
138 (return)
[ The Jinn here was
Curiosity, believed to be associated with the feminine, but definitely not
less connected to "the opposite."]
139 (return)
[ In text "Kinnab" which
M. Houdas translates étoupe que l'on fixe an bout d'un roseau pour
blanchir les murs.]
139 (return)
[In the text "Kinnab," which M. Houdas translates as "a bundle that’s tied to the end of a reed to whitewash the walls."]
140 (return)
[ Impossible here not to
see a sly hit at the Caliph and the Caliphate.]
140 (return)
[ It's hard not to notice a subtle jab at the Caliph and the Caliphate here.]
141 (return)
[ The writer has omitted
this incident which occurs in Chavis and Cazotte.]
141 (return)
[ The author has left out this event that happens in Chavis and Cazotte.]
142 (return)
[ In the text, "Samd" =
carpets and pots and pans.]
142 (return)
[ In the text, "Samd" = carpets and pots and pans.]
143 (return)
[ The Katá 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 Ajáib al-Makhlúkát 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 Hadís, "Whoso shall build to Allah a mosque, be it
only the bigness of a Katá'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 Katá"); 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 Katá," and makes De Sacy confound the bird
with the Pers. Káhú or Kabk-i-dari (partridge of the valley), which is
simply the francolin, the Ital. francolino, a perdrix. The latter in Arab.
Is "Durráj" (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 Katá is alluded to, "I crossed rocky places, to which the
Katá 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 Katá 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."]
143 (return)
[ The Katá grouse (Tetrao alchata seu arenarius of Linn.) has often caught my attention in Pilg. I. 226 (where my indexer referred to it as "sand goose") and in The Nights (vols. i. 131; iv. 111). De Sacy (Chrestom. Arab. iii pp. 416, 507-509) provides a good literary description of it: he can't speak from personal experience, of course. He starts with the Ajáib al-Makhlúkát by Al-Kazwini (ob. A.H. 674 = A.D. 1274), who tells us that the bird makes a very tiny nest in the desert (from which comes the Hadís, "Whoever builds a mosque for Allah, even if it's only as big as a Katá's nest, Allah will build for him a palace in Paradise"); that it leaves its eggs, which are sometimes buried in sand, and then returns to them (hence the saying, "A better guide than the Katá"); that it watches at night (?) and that it hangs around highways to observe travelers (? ?), a claim backed up by the Persian translator. Its short and elegant steps led to the saying, "She has the gait of a Katá," and caused De Sacy to confuse the bird with the Persian Káhú or Kabk-i-dari (valley partridge), which simply refers to the francolin, the Ital. francolino, a perdrix. The latter in Arabic is "Durráj" (Al-Mas'udi, vii. 347): see a touching story related to it in the Suppl. Nights (ii. 40-43). In the xxiiid Ass. of Al-Hariri, the intelligence of the Katá is mentioned, "I crossed rocky places, which the Katá would not traverse." Also see Ass. viii. But Mr. Chenery makes a mistake when he states (p. 339) that the bird is "never found except where there is good pasturage and water": it actually roams the wildest regions of Sind and Arabia, although it rarely strays more than 60 miles from water that it must drink every evening. I have never shot the Katá since it saved my group from dying of thirst on a return trip from Harar (First Footsteps in E. Africa, p. 388). The bird is very fast, with a quick flight like a scared pigeon; and it comes to water regularly around dusk when it's easy to catch.]
144 (return)
[ In text "Samman" for
"Sammán": Dozy gives the form "Summun" (Hondas). The literary name is
"Salwà."]
144 (return)
[ In the text "Samman" for "Sammán": Dozy mentions the form "Summun" (Hondas). The literary name is "Salwà."]
145 (return)
[ For Wali (at one time a
Civil Governor and in other ages a Master of Police) see vol. i. 259.]
145 (return)
[ For Wali (once a Civil Governor and at other times a Master of Police) see vol. i. 259.]
146 (return)
[ Prob. a corruption of
the Pers. "Názuk," adj. delicate, nice.]
146 (return)
[ Probably a variation of the Persian word "Názuk," which means delicate or nice.]
147 (return)
[ In text "Jaftáwát,"
which is, I presume, the Arab. plur. of the Turk. "Chifút" a Jew, a mean
fellow. M. Hondas refers to Dozy s.v. "Jaftáh." (The Turkish word referred
to by Dozy is "Chifte" from the Persian "Juft" = a pair, any two things
coupled together. "Mashá'ilíyah jaftáwát wa fánúsín" in the text would
therefore be "(cresset-) bearers of double torches and lanterns," where
the plural fánúsín is remarkable as a vulgarism, instead of the Dictionary
form "Fawánís."—ST.)]
147 (return)
[ In the term "Jaftáwát," which I assume is the Arabic plural of the Turkish "Chifút," meaning a Jew, a lowly person. M. Hondas refers to Dozy s.v. "Jaftáh." (The Turkish word noted by Dozy is "Chifte" derived from the Persian "Juft," meaning a pair, or any two things linked together. "Mashá'ilíyah jaftáwát wa fánúsín" in the text would translate to "(cresset-) bearers of double torches and lanterns," where the plural fánúsín is interesting as a more colloquial form compared to the standard dictionary form "Fawánís."—ST.)]
148 (return)
[ So in Chavis and
Cazotte: Gauttier and Heron prefer (vol. i. 38) "Chamama." They add, "That
dæmon 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.]
148 (return)
[So in Chavis and Cazotte: Gauttier and Heron prefer (vol. i. 38) "Chamama." They add, "That demon incarnate claimed that Satan was his father and the devil Camos (?) his brother." The Arabic word is related to shamma = he smelled, and hints at the policeman smoking plans.]
149 (return)
[ 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.]
149 (return)
[ i.e. hiding the secret sins of the people. This portrayal of the corrupt cop will have many real-life counterparts in the London police force, if the average homeowner is being honest.]
150 (return)
[ Qui n'ait un point de
contact aver l'une de ces catégories—(Houdas).]
150 (return)
[ Anyone with a connection to one of these categories—(Houdas).]
151 (return)
[ In the old translations
"The Hazen" (Kházin = treasurer?) which wholly abolishes the double
entendre.]
151 (return)
[ In the old translations
"The Hazen" (Kházin = treasurer?) which completely removes the double
meaning.]
152 (return)
[ In text "Darbisí
al-báb" from the Persian, "Dar bastan" = to tie up, to shut.]
152 (return)
[ In text "Darbisí al-báb" from Persian, "Dar bastan" means to bind, to close.]
153 (return)
[ In text "Ghaush" for
"Ghaushah" = noise, row.]
153 (return)
[ In text "Ghaush" for
"Ghaushah" = noise, commotion.]
154 (return)
[ "Akkál bula'hu" i.e.
commit all manner of abominations. "To eat skite" is to talk or act
foolishly.]
154 (return)
[ "Akkál bula'hu" means to engage in all sorts of wickedness. "To eat skite" refers to speaking or behaving foolishly.]
155 (return)
[ In the old translations
"Ilamir Youmis."]
155 (return)
[ In the older translations
"Ilamir Youmis."]
156 (return)
[ In text "Dabbús
bazdaghání," which I have translated as if from the Pers. "Bazdagh" = a
file. But it may be a clerical error for "Bardawáni," the well-known city
in Hindostan whose iron was famous.]
156 (return)
[ In the text "Dabbús bazdaghání," I translated it as if from Persian "Bazdagh" meaning a file. However, it could be a typo for "Bardawáni," the famous city in Hindostan known for its iron.]
157 (return)
[ "Nahs" means something
more than ill-omened, something nasty, foul, uncanny: see vol. i. 301.]
157 (return)
[ "Nahs" refers to something more than just unlucky; it suggests something unpleasant, disgusting, or eerie: see vol. i. 301.]
158 (return)
[ 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.]
158 (return)
[ In Chavis, Heron and Co. there are two ladders to climb over the garden wall and come down onto the house terrace, which apparently they don’t realize is the roof.]
159 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Káfi'ah" =
garde-fou, rebord d'une terrasse— (Houdas).]
159 (return)
[ Arab. "Al-Káfi'ah" = safety rail, edge of a terrace— (Houdas).]
160 (return)
[ 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 "Haurá" as a woman beautiful in the "Mahájir" (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. 354-55.]
160 (return)
[ Our common "Houri": see vols. i. 90; iii. 233. There are several meanings of Hawar; one describes it as the intense darkness of the pupil and the corresponding brightness of the sclera; another interpretation is that it refers to everything visible in the eye (like in a gazelle), meaning the dark part is so large that it overshadows the light part; a third definition of "Haurá" is a woman who is beautiful around the "Mahájir" (the areas below and around the eyes visible when the face is veiled), and a fourth defines it as someone whose eye brightness stands out against the dark of the Kohl powder. See Chenery's Al-Hariri, pp. 354-55.]
161 (return)
[ Arab. "Zalamah" =
tyrants, oppressors (police and employés): see vols. i. 273, and vi. 214.]
161 (return)
[ Arab. "Zalamah" = tyrants, oppressors (police and employees): see vols. i. 273, and vi. 214.]
162 (return)
[ In text "Kunná nu'tíhu
li-ahad" = we should have given him to someone; which makes very poor
sense. (The whole passage runs: "Házá allazí kasam alláh bi-hi fa-lau kána
rajul jayyid ghayr luss kunná nu'tí-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-Rashíd, 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-ghayrí," "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.)]
162 (return)
[ In text "Kunná nu'tíhu li-ahad" = we should have given him to someone; which makes very poor sense. (The whole passage runs: "Házá allazí kasam alláh bi-hi fa-lau kána rajul jayyid ghayr luss kunná nu'tí-hu li-ahad," which I would translate: This is the one about whom Allah decreed (that he should be my share, swearing:) "and if he were a good man and not a thief we would have given him to someone." In "kasama" the three ideas of decreeing, giving as a share, and binding oneself by oath are mixed together. If it seems out of place to introduce Divinity itself as speaking in this context, we should remember that the person being discussed is no less notable than Harun al-Rashíd, and that a distinctly satirical and humorous tone runs through the entire story. Additionally, I doubt that "li-ahad" could be used to mean "li-ghayrí," "to someone other than myself," while it often appears in the strong sense of "one who is someone, a person of importance." The young woman and her mother, on the other hand, repeatedly refer to the state of absolute helplessness they find themselves in, lacking their natural protector, which has lowered them from a high status to feeling like nobodies. I speak, of course, here as elsewhere, "under correction."—ST.)]
163 (return)
[ In text "Hmsh." The
Dicts. give Himmas and Himmis, forms never heard, and Forsk. (Flora
Ægypt.-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 "Malán" 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."]
163 (return)
[ In text "Hmsh." The dictionaries mention Himmas and Himmis, forms that have never been heard of, and Forsk. (Flora Ægypt.-Arab. p. lxxi.) "Homos," which is also unknown. The common pronunciation is "Hummus" or, as Lane (M.E. chapt. v.) puts it, "Hommus" (chickpeas). The word refers to the pea, while "Malán" is the plant in pod. It is the cicer arietinum about which a classical story is told. "Cicero (pron. Kikero) was a poor student at the University of Athens, which his enemies in Rome used to mock him about, and as he walked through the streets, they would shout 'O Cicer, Cicer, O,' a phrase still used in Cambridge, and it corresponds to a Servitor in Oxford." It's interesting to note the similarity between "Cicer," the vetch, and "Sizar," which comes from "size" = rations, the Oxford "battel."]
164 (return)
[ Arab. "Yulakkimu," from
"Lukmah" = a mouthful: see vols. i. 266; vii. 367.]
164 (return)
[ Arab. "Yulakkimu," from "Lukmah" = a mouthful: see vols. i. 266; vii. 367.]
165 (return)
[ Arab. "Jarazat Kuzbán"
(plur. or "Kazíb," see vol. ii. 66) = long and slender sticks.]
165 (return)
[ Arab. "Jarazat Kuzbán" (plural or "Kazíb," see vol. ii. 66) = long and slender sticks.]
167 (return)
[ So in the phrase "Otbah
hath the colic," first said concerning Otbah b. Rabí'a by Abú Jahl when
the former advised not marching upon Badr to attack Mohammed. Tabari, vol.
ii. 491.]
167 (return)
[ So in the phrase "Otbah has the colic," first said about Otbah b. Rabí'a by Abú Jahl when the former suggested not marching to Badr to attack Mohammed. Tabari, vol. ii. 491.]
169 (return)
[ i.e. to whom thou owest
a debt of apology or excuse, "Gharím" = debtor or creditor.]
169 (return)
[ i.e. to whom you owe a debt of apology or excuse, "Gharím" = debtor or creditor.]
170 (return)
[ Arab. "Juráb
al-'uddah," i.e. the manacles, fetters, etc.]
170 (return)
[ Arab. "Juráb al-'uddah," meaning the handcuffs, restraints, etc.]
171 (return)
[ The following three
sentences are taken from the margin of (MS.) p. 257, and evidently belong
to this place.]
171 (return)
[The next three sentences are from the margin of (MS.) p. 257 and clearly belong here.]
172 (return)
[ In text "Bghb"
evidently for "Baght" or preferably "Baghtatan."]
172 (return)
[ In text "Bghb" evidently for "Baght" or preferably "Baghtatan."]
173 (return)
[ 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.]
173 (return)
[ This is a story that I've shared again but made a bit lighter without leaving out any important details. Gauttier condenses the ending of the story to under five pages.]
175 (return)
[ In text Khila't dakk
al-Matrakah," which I have rendered literally: it seems to signify an
especial kind of brocade.]
175 (return)
[ In text Khila't dakk
al-Matrakah," which I have interpreted literally: it appears to refer to a
special type of brocade.]
176 (return)
[ The Court of Baghdad
was, like the Urdú (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 rearguard.]
176 (return)
[ The Court of Baghdad was organized similarly to the Urdú (Horde or Court) of the "Grand Mogul," set up like an army in the field, with its center being the Sovereign, and two wings on the right and left, each led by its own Wazir as Commander, along with a vanguard and rearguard.]
177 (return)
[ Being the only son he
had a voice in the disposal of his sister. The mother was the Kabírah =
head of the household, in Marocco Al-Sídah = Madame mère; 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.]
177 (return)
[As the only son, he had a say in what happened with his sister. The mother was the Kabírah, the head of the household, in Morocco, known as Al-Sídah or Madame mère; however, she couldn’t handle family matters on her own. See Pilgrimage, vol. iii. 198. In Islam, when there isn’t a father, the eldest brother is responsible for giving away the sisters, and if there’s no brother, the nearest male relative on the "sword" side takes on that role. The mother has no authority in these situations, nor does anyone from the "spindle" side.]
178 (return)
[ Alluding to the Wali
and his men.]
178 (return)
[ Referring to the Wali and his crew.]
179 (return)
[ 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, Abú (father of) being prefixed. When names are written in
full it begins the string, e.g., Abu Mohammed (fore-name), Kásim (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-Bundukání or Badí'u'l-Zamán (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 Abú; 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
bye-name. -Gaudent prænomine molles Auriculæ.]
179 (return)
[ The term "Kunyah" (often mispronounced as "Kinyah") isn't used here with strict accuracy. It's a nickname or alternative name generally taken from the favorite son, with Abú (meaning father of) used as a prefix. When names are fully written out, it starts the list, for example, Abu Mohammed (nickname), Kásim (real name), ibn Ali (father's name), ibn Mohammed (grandfather's name), ibn Osman (great-grandfather's name), Al-Hariri (= the Silkman from the family's trade), Al-Basri (from Bassorah). There's also the "Lakab" (nickname), such as Al-Bundukání or Badí'u'l-Zamán (Rarity of the Age), which can be placed either before or after the "Kunyah" when the latter is used alone. Chenery (Al-Hariri, p.315) limits "Kunyah" to nicknames starting with Abú; however, it also applies to those formed with Umm (mother), Ibn (son), Bint (daughter), Akh (brother), and Ukht (sister). See vol. iv. 287. It's seen as friendly and respectful to address a Muslim by this nickname. -Gentle are those who greet with a pleasant name.]
180 (return)
[ In text "Yá Kawákí,"
which M. Houdas translates "O piailleur," remarking that here it would be
= poule mouillée.]
180 (return)
[ In text "Yá Kawákí," which M. Houdas translates as "The Crybaby," noting that it would mean = scaredy-cat.]
181 (return)
[ "'Alakah khárijah" = an
extraordinary drubbing.]
181 (return)
[ "'Alakah khárijah" = an amazing beating.]
182 (return)
[ In text "Ij'alní fí
kll," the latter word being probably, as M. Houdas suggests, a clerical
error for "Kal-a" or "Kiláa" = safety, protection.]
182 (return)
[ In the text "Ij'alní fí kll," the last word might actually be a typo for "Kal-a" or "Kiláa," which means safety or protection, as M. Houdas points out.]
183 (return)
[ I am surprised that so
learned and practical an Arabist as the Baron de Slane in his Fr.
translation of Ibn Khaldún 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-Khulafá al-rashidín" by Les
Califes qui marchent dans la voie droite.]
183 (return)
[ I am surprised that such a knowledgeable and practical Arabist as Baron de Slane would translate the nickname Er-Rechid (the prudent) as "The Rightly Directed," the Orthodox (vol. ii. 237), when (ibid. p. 259) he correctly translates "Al-Khulafá al-rashidín" as The Caliphs Who Follow the Right Path.]
184 (return)
[ MSS. pp. 476-504. This
tale is laid down on the same lines as "Abú al-Husn and his Slave-girl
Tawaddud," vol. vi. 189. It is carefully avoided by Scott, C. de Perceval,
Gauttier, etc.]
184 (return)
[MSS. pp. 476-504. This story follows the same structure as "Abú al-Husn and his Slave-girl Tawaddud," vol. vi. 189. It is deliberately overlooked by Scott, C. de Perceval, Gauttier, etc.]
185 (return)
[ Lit. an interpreter
woman; the word is the fem. of Tarjumán, 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.]
185 (return)
[ Lit. an interpreter woman; the word is the feminine form of Tarjumán, a dragoman whom Mr. Curtis calls a Drag o' men; see vol. i. 100. It has changed significantly from its "Semitic" origins to Europe, where it has been adapted as Drogman, Truchman, and Dolmetsch.]
186 (return)
[ 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.]
186 (return)
[ For this word with many meanings, see vols. i. 231; ix. 221. M. Caussin de Perceval (viii. 16), referencing d'Herbelot (s.v.), points out that the Abbasids used this title for the main guardian of the Harem.]
187 (return)
[ 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 Abú Zayd here
confounds with the Franks) on the land," etc. The confusion is not Abu
Zayd's: "Rumí" in Marocco and other archaic parts of the Moslem world is
still synonymous with our "European."]
187 (return)
[ See vols. iv. 100; viii. 268. In his Introduction (p. 22) to the Assemblies of Al-Hariri, Chenery states, "This prosperity has now faded away, for God has brought the people of Rum (this is what the Arabs call the Byzantines, who Abu Zayd here mistakenly groups with the Franks) into the land," etc. The confusion isn't from Abu Zayd: "Rumí" in Morocco and other old parts of the Muslim world still means "European."]
188 (return)
[ 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.]
188 (return)
[ This obedience to children is typical in Eastern folklore: see Suppl. vol. i. 143, where the royal father tells his son to sell him. The main idea is that parents find their children too smart for them; unlike in the "New World," where youth is seen as having the right to take charge over age.]
189 (return)
[ In text "Fa min tumma"
for "thumma"—then, alors.]
189 (return)
[ In text "Fa min tumma"
for "thumma"—then, so.]
190 (return)
[ Such as the headstall
and hobbles the cords and chains for binding captives, and the mace and
sword hanging to the saddle-bow.]
190 (return)
[ Like the headstall and hobbles, the ropes and chains for tying up prisoners, and the mace and sword hanging from the saddle.]
191 (return)
[ i.e. not a well-known
or distinguished horseman, but a chance rider.]
191 (return)
[ i.e. not a famous or exceptional horseman, but an occasional rider.]
192 (return)
[ These "letters of
Mutalammis," as Arabs term our Litteræ Bellerophonteæ, 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 Jarír
bin 'Abd al-Masíh. 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:—
192 (return)
[ These "letters of Mutalammis," as Arabs call our Litteræ Bellerophonteæ, or "Uriah's letters," are a common thing in the East, and the Prince was fortunate when he opened and read the letter that was mistakenly given to the wrong person. Mutalammis, a poet from the pre-Islamic era, had this nickname (the "frequent asker," or, as we would say, the Solicitor-General), with the name Jarír bin 'Abd al-Masíh. He was the uncle of Tarafah, known for the Mu'-allakah or prize poem, representing the clever and carefree poet from the lively times before Islam came in to constrain and dull human life. One day, while playing with other kids, Mutalammis was reciting a poem praising his favorite camel, which went:—
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 hooves.]
I climb onto a male camel, dark red and solid; or a female camel from Himyar, fast and kicking up pebbles with her powerful hooves.
"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:—
"Look at the male camel turned female," shouted the boy, and the expression became a saying to describe an awkward transition (Arab. Prov. ii. 246). The uncle told his nephew to stick out his tongue, and when he saw it was dark-colored, he said, "That black tongue will be your downfall!" Tarafah, who was known as Ibn al-'Ishrin (the son of twenty years), grew up to be a perfect scoundrel who cared for nothing but three things: "to drink dark-red wine that frothed like mixing water, to push a strong horse into battle, and to pass the boring day with a young beauty." His excuse for reckless spending was quite 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.
I see that the grave of the careful, the hoarder, is no different from the grave of the debauched, the spendthrift: A mound of dirt covers both, with a few flat stones laid on top.
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 'Amrú bin Munzír III., King of Hira, who in the tale of Al-Mutalammis and his wife Umaymah (The Nights, vol. v. 74) is called Al-Nu'umán bin Munzir but is better known as 'Amrú 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 Tamím 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 Kábús. Tarafah, offended because kept at the tent-door whilst the master drank wine within, bitterly lampooned him together with 'Abd Amrú a friend of the King; and when this was reported his death was determined upon. Amrú, the King, seeing the anxiety of the two poets to quit his Court, offered them letters of introduction to Abú Kárib, 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. Amrú, the King, was afterwards slain by the poet-warrior, Amrú bin Kulthum, also of the "Mu'allakát," for an insult offered to his mother by Hind: hence the proverb, "Quicker to slay than 'Amrú bin Kulsum" (A.P. ii. 233).]
See the whole piece in Chenery's Al-Hariri (p. 360), from which this note is borrowed. Eventually, uncle and nephew escaped disaster and went to the court of 'Amrú bin Munzír III., King of Hira, who in the tale of Al-Mutalammis and his wife Umaymah (The Nights, vol. v. 74) is referred to as Al-Nu'umán bin Munzir, but is better known as 'Amrú bin Hind (after his mother). The King, who was an extravagant character nicknamed Al-Muharrik or the Burner, because he had thrown into the fire ninety-nine men and one woman of the Tamím tribe as part of a vow of vengeance to kill a hundred people, made the two strangers good friends with his rude brother Kábús. Tarafah, upset for being kept at the tent entrance while the master drank wine inside, harshly mocked him along with 'Abd Amrú, a friend of the King; and when this was reported, it was decided that he should be killed. Amrú, the King, noticing the two poets’ eagerness to leave his court, offered them letters of introduction to Abú Kárib, the Governor of Al-Hajar (Bahrayn) under the Persian King, which they accepted. The uncle had a young man read the letter for him, and discovering it was an order for his execution, he destroyed it and fled to Syria; however, the nephew was buried alive. Later, Amrú, the King, was killed by the poet-warrior, Amrú bin Kulthum, also of the "Mu'allakát," for an insult made to his mother by Hind: hence the proverb, "Quicker to slay than 'Amrú bin Kulsum" (A.P. ii. 233).
193 (return)
[ 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.]
193 (return)
[ See vols. i. 192; iii. 14; these are related to the "Stathmoi," Stationes, Mansiones or Castra of Herodotus, Terps. cap. 53, and Xenophon. An. i. 2, 10.]
194 (return)
[ In text "Ittiká" viiith
of waká: the form "Takwà" is generally used = fearing God, whereby one
guards oneself from sin in this life and from retribution in the world to
come.]
194 (return)
[ In text "Ittiká" seventh of waká: the term "Takwà" is commonly used = being mindful of God, which helps one avoid sin in this life and punishment in the afterlife.]
195 (return)
[ 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
Abdæmon, 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.]
195 (return)
[ This series of puzzling questions and clever answers is still a popular mental exercise in the East, just like it was in medieval Europe. The riddle or conundrum likely started with the Sphinx, who was a mouthpiece for the Greeks: it's hard to believe that the serious and mysterious Scribes of Egypt would attribute something so trivial to such a formidable symbol of royal power—Abu Haul, the Father of Fright. Josephus mentions how Solomon posed riddles to Hiram of Tyre that only Abdimus, the son of the captive Abdæmon, could solve. The Tale of Tawaddud showcases some excellent examples of these brain teasers, which were appreciated by the most learned Arabian writers. See Al-Hariri's Ass. xxiv, which presents twelve riddles containing complex and specialized aspects of Arabic, such as: "What is the word that, as you like, can mean a beloved particle or the name for that which includes the slender-waisted milch camel?" Na'am = "Yes" or "cattle," with the latter term including the Harf, or slender camel. Chenery, p. 246.]
196 (return)
[ For the sundry meanings
and significance of "Salám," here=Heaven's blessing, see vols. ii. 24, vi.
232.]
196 (return)
[ For the various meanings and significance of "Salám," here=Heaven's blessing, see vols. ii. 24, vi. 232.]
197 (return)
[ 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 Músà 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 'Atákah, 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 Túr, 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.
197 (return)
[ This is a simplified version of the Exodus story, as old as Josephus and St. Jerome, and completely altered by modern understanding. The Children of Israel left their homes near Memphis (as if a large group of semi-nomadic shepherds would be allowed in the wealthiest and most populated area of Egypt). They traveled through Wady Músà, which leads to the Gulf of Suez, just below the port currently struggling due to its own mistakes and the discontent of M. de Lesseps; and they created the "Sea of Sedge" (Suez Gulf) through the valley bordered by what is still called Jabal 'Atákah, the Mountain of Deliverance, and its neighboring range, Abu Durayj (of small steps). Here the waters were parted and the gathered people crossed to the "Wells of Moses," once a popular picnic spot on the Arabian side; but according to one local legend (see my Pilgrimage, i. 294-97), they crossed the sea north of Túr, a location still called "Birkat Far'aun"=Pharaoh's Pool. This is also the modern story among the Arabs, who learned this from Christians (not Jews) during the time when the Copts and Greeks (4th century) created "Mount Sinai." And it's important to note that ancient Egyptian historians, who faithfully recount all their defeats and conquests by the Ethiopians, Persians, etc., completely overlook the very mention of Hebrew, Sons of Israel, and so on.
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 Fakús (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-Tíh, "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?
I can’t hide my surprise at seeing a specialist journal like the "Quarterly Statement of the Palestine Exploration Fund" (Oct., 1887) publishing a paper titled "The Exode," by R. F. Hutchinson, M.D. For this author, the work of the last fifty years doesn’t exist. Job is still the "oldest book" in the world. The Rev. Charles Forster's ridiculous idea, "Israel in the wilderness," provides some misguided help. Goshen is identified as Mr. Chester's Tell Fakús (which isn’t entirely incorrect), rather than the long lowland still referred to by the Copts as "Gesem" or "Gesemeh," which is the border area through which the middle route of the Suez Canal passes. "Succoth," or tabernacles, is mixed up with the Arabic word "Sakf," meaning roof. Letopolis, which is called the "key of the Exode" and thought to be the site where Babylon (Old Cairo) was later built, is placed on the right bank of the Nile instead of the left. "Bahr Kulzum" is called the "Sea of the Swallowing-up," instead of The Closing. El-Tíh, meaning "the wandering," is linked to Wady Musa to the west of the Suez Gulf. And so on. What was the capable Editor thinking?
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, Trübner, 1837.]
Students of this still debated question will refer to "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, Trübner, 1837.]
198 (return)
[ 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.]
198 (return)
[ Eastern stories abound on this topic, and honestly, a whole book could be written about the birth, life, and death of Moses' and Aaron's rods. There are many legends about where the first rod was cut and how it came to the Prophet, whose shepherd's staff symbolized both his pastoral life and his future role as a leader (and punisher) of people. In Exodus (viii. 3-10), when a miracle was needed from the brothers, Aaron's rod turned into a "serpent" (A.V.) or, as some prefer, a "crocodile," an animal revered by certain Egyptians; and when the King's magicians tried to replicate it, Aaron's rod swallowed all the others. Its next feat was turning the Nile and other waters of Egypt into blood (Exod. vii. 17). The third miracle, performed by Moses' staff, was parting the Red Sea (or the Sea of Sedge or papyrus, which could never have grown in the salty waters of the Suez Gulf) as commanded: "Lift your rod and stretch out your hand over the sea," etc. (Exod. xiv. 15). The fourth act occurred when the rod, used by Moses to strike the river, hit the rock at Horeb twice, causing water to flow from it (Numb. xxi. 8). Lastly, the rod (once again Aaron's) "budded and produced buds and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds" (Numb. xvii. 7); thus serving as a testimony against the rebels: it was placed in the Holiest of the Tabernacle (Heb. ix. 14) as a lasting memorial. I have noted (Pilgrim. i. 301) the mark of Moses' rod at the small Hammam behind the old Phoenician colony of Tyre, in the wrongly named "Sinaitic" Peninsula: it's large enough to serve as the main mast for a ship. The fate of the rod or rods is unknown: it ceased to exist when its purpose was fulfilled, and like many other holy and unholy artifacts that would be invaluable, e.g., the true Cross or Pilate's sword, it survives only as a memory surrounded by a multitude of bizarre superstitions.]
199 (return)
[ In this word "Hayy" the
Arab. and Heb. have the advantage of our English: it means either serpent
or living, alive.]
199 (return)
[In this word "Hayy," both Arabic and Hebrew have an edge over English: it can mean either serpent or living, alive.]
200 (return)
[ It is nowhere said in
Hebrew Holy Writ that "Pharaoh," whoever he may have been, was drowned in
the "Red Sea."]
200 (return)
[ It's never mentioned in the Hebrew Scriptures that "Pharaoh," whoever he was, was drowned in the "Red Sea."]
201 (return)
[ 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.]
201 (return)
[ Arab. "Kaml." The Koranic story of the Ant has, once again, been beautifully analyzed by Edwin Arnold in "Solomon and the Ant" (p.i., Pearls of the Faith). It appears to be a Talmudic embellishment of the implied praise found in Prov. vi. 6 and xxx. 25, "The ants are a people not strong, yet they prepare their food in the summer," which, by the way, shows that the Wise King could occasionally be wrong about his natural history, and that they didn't know everything down in Judea.]
202 (return)
[ Isá, 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.]
202 (return)
[ According to Muslims, Isá was similar to Adam (Koran iii. 52) in that he was not born in the usual manner: his conception was, in fact, miraculous. See vol. v. 238.]
203 (return)
[ 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 childhood.]
203 (return)
[ For Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, an amazing legendary figure, see vols. iv. 175; v. 334. The worship of Helios (Apollo) still exists in modern Greece, where it continues under the name of Elias. Similarly, Dionysus has turned into St. Dionysius; Bacchus the Drunken has become St. George; and Artemis is now St. Artemides, the healer of childhood.]
204 (return)
[ 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.]
204 (return)
[ Gesenius interprets it as "Soldier of God"; the nickname given to Jacob eventually became the national name for the Twelve Tribes as a whole; then it was specifically associated with the tribe of Judah; later it came to mean laymen in contrast to Levites, and nowadays, it serves as a polite synonym for Jew. When you want something from any of the (self-) Chosen People, you refer to him as an Israelite; when he wants something from you, you call him a Jew, or a damned Jew, depending on the situation.]
205 (return)
[ 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.]
205 (return)
[ I’m not aware of any complete history of the bell, starting from the rattle, the gong, and other early forms of it; however, the topic seems deserving of a detailed study. In Hebrew writings, the bell first shows up in Exodus 28:33 as a fringe on the High Priest's Ephod, so its ringing would alert him to avoid entering the presence of the tribal God, Jehovah, without warning.]
206 (return)
[ Gennesaret (Chinnereth,
Cinneroth), where, according to some Moslems, the Solomon was buried.]
206 (return)
[ Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth), where, according to some Muslims, Solomon was buried.]
208 (return)
[ 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):—
208 (return)
[ So the old English rhyme, created for a different 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?"
"When Adam dug and Eve spun, Who was the gentleman back then?"
A variant occurs in a MS. of the xvth century, Brit. Museum:—
A variation appears in a 15th-century manuscript at the British Museum:—
"Now bethink the gentleman,
How Adam dalf and Eve span."
"Now think about the man,
How Adam dug and Eve spun."And the German form is:—
And the German version is:—
"So Adam reutte (reute) and Eva span
Wwer was da ein Eddelman (Edelman)?"]
"So Adam reutte (reute) and Eva span Wwer was that an aristocrat (Edelman)?"
209 (return)
[ Plur. of "'Usfúr" = a
bird, a sparrow. The etymology is characteristically Oriental and
Mediaeval, reminding us of Dan Chaucer's meaning of Cecilia "Heaven's
lily" (Súsan) or "Way for the blind" (Cæcus) 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).]
209 (return)
[ Plural of "'Usfúr" = a bird, a sparrow. The origin is typically Eastern and Medieval, reminding us of Dan Chaucer's meaning of Cecilia "Heaven's lily" (Súsan) or "Path for the blind" (Cæcus) or "Thoughts of Holiness" and lia=lasting effort; or, "Heaven and Leos" (people), so that she might be called the people's heaven (The Second Nonne's Tale).]
211 (return)
[ Both of which, I may
note, are not things but states, modes or conditions of things. See. vol.
ix. 78.]
211 (return)
[ Both of which, I should point out, are not physical objects but rather states, modes, or conditions of things. See. vol. ix. 78.]
212 (return)
[ "Salát" = the formal
ceremonious prayer. I have noticed (vol. iv. 60) the sundry technical
meanings of the term Salát, from Allah=Mercy; from Angel-kind=intercession
and pardon, and from mankind=a blessing.]
212 (return)
[ "Salát" = the formal ceremonial prayer. I've observed (vol. iv. 60) the various technical meanings of the term Salát, from Allah=Mercy; from Angels=intercession and forgiveness, and from humans=a blessing.]
213 (return)
[ Possibly "A prayer of
Moses, the man of God," the title of the highly apocryphal Psalm xc.]
213 (return)
[ Possibly "A prayer of Moses, the servant of God," the title of the highly disputed Psalm xc.]
214 (return)
[ Arab. "Libás" = clothes
in general.]
214 (return)
[ Arab. "Libás" = clothing in general.]
215 (return)
[ 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.]
215 (return)
[ In text "Zafar" = victory. It may also be "Zifr" = referring to the horny matter that, according to Muslim tradition, covered the bodies of "our first parents" and of which, after the "original sin," only their fingernails and toenails remained. They only became aware of their nudity once this covering disappeared. So says M. Houdas; but I prefer to interpret the word as Zafar = braided hair.]
216 (return)
[ 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-Hudà") which
made him sinless. In this opinoin of the Imamship, says my friend Prof. A.
Sprenger, the historian is more fatalistic than most Sunnis.]
216 (return)
[ According to Al-Mas'udi
(i. 86, quoting Koran xxi. 52), Abraham had already received spiritual guidance or divine grace from Allah ("Rushdu 'llah" or "Al-Hudà") which made him sinless. In this view of leadership, my friend Prof. A. Sprenger notes that the historian is more fatalistic than most Sunnis.]
217 (return)
[ 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'háku kána'l-Zabíh" = 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.]
217 (return)
[ Modern Muslims all agree that Ishmael, not Isaac, is the hero of this story: see my Pilgrimage (vol. iii. 306). But it wasn't always this way. Al-Mas'udi (vol. ii. 146) quotes a Persian poet from A.H. 290 (=A.D. 902) who clearly states "Is'háku kána'l-Zabíh" = Isaac was the sacrifice, and the historian mentions this in several places. Still, the general belief is that Ishmael succeeded his father (as the eldest son) and was later succeeded by Isaac; and this is the root of the bitter family feud between the Eastern Jews and the Arab Gentiles.]
218 (return)
[ In text "Tajui"=lit.
thou pluckest (the fruit of good deeds). M. Houdas translates Tu
recueilles, mot à mot tu citeilles.]
218 (return)
[ In text "Tajui"=lit. you gather (the fruit of good deeds). M. Houdas translates Tu recueilles, word for word you cite.]
220 (return)
[ 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.]
220 (return)
[ For the Jews, the Temple of Jerusalem was a replica of the original constructed by God in the lowest heaven or that of the Moon. The same concept (likely derived from the Talmud) exists among Muslims regarding the heavenly Ka'abah known as Bayt al-Ma'mur (the Populated House) see my Pilgrimage iii. 186, et seq.]
221 (return)
[ i.e. there is an end of
the matter.]
221 (return)
[ i.e. there is a conclusion to the matter.]
222 (return)
[ In text "Massa-hu'l
Fakr"=poverty touched him.]
222 (return)
[In the text "Massa-hu'l Fakr"=poverty affected him.]
223 (return)
[ He had sold his father
for a horse, etc., and his mother for a fine dress.]
223 (return)
[ He had traded his father for a horse, and his mother for a nice dress.]
224 (return)
[ 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.]
224 (return)
[ This puzzle is similar to Samson's (Judges xiv. 12), where we lament that the unfortunate Philistines lacked the one clue that could lead to the answer; and anyone with a bit of common sense would have responded, "You're the one!" The riddles that the Queen of Sheba brought to Solomon must have been challenging questions similar to those mentioned in the text; and the narrator wisely chooses not to write them down.]
225 (return)
[ We should say "To
eclipse the sun."]
225 (return)
[ We should say "To block out the sun."]
227 (return)
[ 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.]
227 (return)
[ Arab. "Bi Asri-hi," lit. "rope and all;" metaphorically used=altogether, entirely: the idea is borrowed from the giving or selling of an animal along with its rope, halter, chain, etc.]
228 (return)
[ In the text, "Káhin," a
Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a soothsayer: see Al-Kahánah, 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.]
228 (return)
[ In the text, "Káhin," a Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a fortune teller: see Al-Kahánah, vol. i. 28. In Hebrew, Kahana means he served (priestly duties or other tasks) and Cohen refers to a priest either of the true God or of false gods.]
229 (return)
[ This ending with its
résumé of contents is somewhat hors ligne, yet despite its vain repetition
I think it advisable to translate it.]
229 (return)
[This ending, which summarizes the contents, seems a bit off the mark, but despite its pointless repetition, I believe it's best to translate it.]
230 (return)
[ "And she called his
name Moses, and she said because from the water I drew him" (Exod. ii.
10).]
230 (return)
[ "She named him Moses, explaining, 'I drew him out of the water.'" (Exod. ii. 10).]
231 (return)
[ 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 Banú Isráíl. The word
"Pharoah" is not without its etymological difficulties.]
231 (return)
[ Muslims commonly believe that the Pharaoh of the Exodus tried to cure his leprosy by bathing in the blood of Israelite infants. The term "Pharaoh" has some etymological challenges.]
232 (return)
[ Graetz (Geschichte i.
note 7) proves that "Aram," in the Hebrew text (Judges iii. 8), should be
"Edom."]
232 (return)
[ Graetz (History i. note 7) shows that "Aram," in the Hebrew text (Judges iii. 8), should be "Edom."]
233 (return)
[ I give a quadruple
increase, at least 25 per centum more than the genealogies warrant.]
233 (return)
[ I give a fourfold increase, at least 25 percent more than the family trees justify.]
234 (return)
[ 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 Zádeh."
It is called the "History of Chec Chahabeddin" (Shaykh Shiháb al-Dín), 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
"Mukáshafah" (thought-reading); and by "Al-Ghayb 'an al-Absár"
(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'ráj,
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 Jewád ,"
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 "Huríyah," and that the Pers. "Húri," from which the Turks
borrowed their blunder, properly means "One Húr."]
234 (return)
[ 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 who called himself "Shaykh Zádeh." It's titled the "History of Chec Chahabeddin" (Shaykh Shiháb al-Dín), and it has a religious significance that proves the Apostle really and personally made the "Mi'raj" (ascent to Heaven) and returned while his couch was still warm and his upset water jug had not run dry. The tale probably draws from Saint Paul, who (2 Cor. xii. 4) was "caught up into Paradise," which at the time was viewed as a type of region that covered the earth. The Shaykh in question started by showing the skeptical Sultan of Egypt some impressive miracles, such as a phantom army (in our story, two lions), Cairo turned to ashes, the Nile in flood, and a Garden of Irem, which previously was a desert. He then called for a tub, stripped the King down to his waist, and made him dip his head into the water. Following that came the adventures as outlined in the next tale. When these concluded, the furious Sultan ordered the Shaykh to be beheaded, but the Shaykh also plunged his head into the tub; however, the Wizard sensed the malicious intent through "Mukáshafah" (thought-reading) and, using "Al-Ghayb 'an al-Absár" (invisibility), levitated to Damascus. The reader is encouraged to compare this older account with the "First Vizir's Story" (p. 17) found in Mr. Gibb's "History of the Forty Vizirs," etc. As this scholar notes, the Mi'raj, with all its rich tales, is simply referenced in a few verses of the Koran (xvii. 1) which conveys: [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, there’s a mention of Moses (v. 2); Mr. Gibb points out (p. 22) that this stretching of time was a favorite with "Dervishes," as he illustrated in "The Story of Jewád," and suggests it might have been induced by some substance like Hashish. I take issue with Mr. Gibb's use of the word "Hour)" (ibid. p. 24) without informing the reader that it is an irregular formation, masculine in nature, for "Huríyah," and that the Persian "Húri," from which the Turks derived their error, properly means "One Húr."]
235 (return)
[ For the Dajlah (Tigris)
and Furát (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."]
235 (return)
[ For the Dajlah (Tigris) and Furát (Euphrates) see vols. viii. 150- ix. 17. The location descriptions are even worse than in Shakespeare. In Weber's edition of the "New Arabian Nights" (Adventures of Simoustapha, etc.), the rivers are referred to as "Ilfara" and "Aggiala."]
236 (return)
[ In text "Alwán," for
which see vol. vii. 135.]
236 (return)
[ In text "Alwán," see vol. vii. 135.]
237 (return)
[ (The word which is here
translated with: "and one had said that he had laboured hard thereat
(walawá'yh?) seems scarcely to bear out this meaning. I would read it
"wa'l-Aw'iyah" (plur. of wi'á), rendering accordingly: "and the vessels
(in which the aforesaid meats were set out) shimmered like unto silver for
their cleanliness."—ST.)]
237 (return)
[ (The term translated here as "and one had said that he had labored hard there" (walawá'yh?) doesn't really support this meaning. I would interpret it as "wa'l-Aw'iyah" (plural of wi'á), translating it as: "and the vessels (in which the aforementioned foods were displayed) shone like silver because of their cleanliness."—ST.)]
238 (return)
[ In text "Al-Wahwah."]
238 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ In text "Al-Wahwah."]
239 (return)
[ In text, "Mutasa'lik"
for "Moutasa'lik" = like a "sa'lúk."]
239 (return)
[ In text, "Mutasa'lik" for "Moutasa'lik" = similar to a "sa'lúk."]
240 (return)
[ For this "high-spirited
Prince and noble-minded lord" see vol. ix. 229.]
240 (return)
[ For this "enthusiastic prince and honorable lord" see vol. ix. 229.]
241 (return)
[ In text "Bisáta-hum" =
their carpets.]
241 (return)
[ In text "Bisáta-hum" = their carpets.]
242 (return)
[ In text "Hawánít,"
plur. of "Hanút" = the shop or vault of a vintner, pop. derived from the
Persian Kháneh. 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. "Hanút" 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.]
242 (return)
[ In the text "Hawánít," the plural of "Hanút" means the shop or vault of a winemaker, with a popular origin from the Persian Kháneh. In Jeremiah 27:16, where the A.V. states "When Jeremiah was entered into the dungeon and into the cabins," it should read "underground vaults," referring to the cells or cellars where wine was sold. "Hanút" can also refer to either the winemaker or the winemaker's shop. The derivation, suggesting it damages a person's property and tarnishes their reputation, is a clever comment by a moralizing grammarian. Chenery's Al-Hariri, p. 377.]
243 (return)
[ In the Arab. "Jawákín,"
plur. of Arab. Jaukán for Pers. Chaugán, a crooked stick a club, a bat
used for the Persian form of golf played on horseback—Polo.]
243 (return)
[ In Arabic. "Jawákín," the plural of Arabic Jaukán, which means the Persian Chaugán, referring to a bent stick, a club, or a bat used in the Persian version of golf played on horseback—Polo.]
244 (return)
[ (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
acceptable.—ST.)]
244 (return)
[ (The text says "Liyah," and further down mentions "Al-Liyah" (double Lam). Therefore, I suspect that "Liyyah," similar to "Luwwah," is intended, both referring to Aloes-wood, which is used for fumigation (yutabakhkharu bi-hi). For the next ingredient, I would interpret "Kit'ah humrah" as a small amount of red brick dust, a substance that, for reasons unknown to me, has been attributed with remarkable medicinal properties. This interpretation seems more fitting, as it currently appears that these last-mentioned items needed to be added into the vial, otherwise there would be no point in mentioning them, and I believe that the vial was ultimately sealed with sealing clay. The entire description is quite vague and evidently significantly corrupted, so I think any effort to clarify it may be valuable.—ST.)]
245 (return)
[ "Wa Kíta'h hamrah,"
which M. Houdas renders un morceau de viande cuite.]
245 (return)
[ "Wa Kíta'h hamrah," which M. Houdas translates as a piece of cooked meat.]
246 (return)
[ This is a specimen of
the Islamised Mantra called in Sanskrit Stambhana and intended to procure
illicit intercourse. Herklots has printed a variety of formulæ 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-Rahmán (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.]
246 (return)
[ This is an example of the Islamized Mantra known in Sanskrit as Stambhana, designed to achieve illicit relationships. Herklots has published several formulas that are popular across southern India; even in the Maldives, we see such "Fandita" (i.e., Panditya, the learned Science). Mr. Bell (Journ., Ceylon Br. R. A. S. vii. 109) provides the following example: "Write the name of the beloved; take 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; create an image from the bud; write down the details of the horoscope, copy the Surat al-Rahmán (the Compassionate, No. xlviii.) from start to finish; tie the image in five places with coir twisted to the left (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 consider all these charms to be mere tools for focusing and amplifying the brain activity called Will, which is and will soon be recognized as the main driving force. See Suppl. vol. iii.]
247 (return)
[ Probably the name of
some Prince of the Jinns.]
247 (return)
[ Probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns.]
248 (return)
[ In text "Kamá zukira fí
Dayli-h" = arrange-toi de facon à l'atteindre (Houdas).]
248 (return)
[ In text "Kamá zukira fí Dayli-h" = get yourself arranged to reach it (Houdas).]
249 (return)
[ Proverbial for its
depth: Káshán is the name of sundry cities; here one in the Jibál or Irák
'Ajami—Persian Mesopotamia.]
249 (return)
[ Known for its depth: Káshán refers to several cities; here it is one in the mountains or the Arabic region of 'Irák—Persian Mesopotamia.]
250 (return)
[ Doubtless meaning
Christians.]
250 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Clearly meaning Christians.]
251 (return)
[ The Sage had summoned
her by the preceding spell which the Princess obeyed involuntarily.]
251 (return)
[ The Sage had called her with the earlier spell that the Princess followed without thinking.]
252 (return)
[ i.e., last night, see
vol. iii. 249.]
252 (return)
[ i.e., last night, see
vol. iii. 249.]
253 (return)
[ In text "Wuldán" =
"Ghilmán": the boys of Paradise; for whom and their feminine counterparts
the Húr (Al-Ayn) see vols. i. 90, 211; iii. 233.]
253 (return)
[ In text "Wuldán" =
"Ghilmán": the boys of Paradise; for whom and their female counterparts
the Húr (Al-Ayn) see vols. i. 90, 211; iii. 233.]
254 (return)
[ 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.]
254 (return)
[ Arab. "Dukhn" = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain, related to the Zurrah or Durrah = Holcus Sativus, Forsk. cxxiii. This story isn't new. In "Des blaue Licht," a tale from Mecklenburg shared by Grimm, the King’s daughter, who is carried through the air to the soldier's room, is instructed by her father to fill her pocket with peas and make a hole in it; however, the only result was that the pigeons enjoyed a rare feast. See Suppl. vol. iii. 375.]
255 (return)
[ i.e., a martyr of love.
See vols. iii. 211; i-iv. 205.]
255 (return)
[ i.e., a martyr of love. See vols. iii. 211; i-iv. 205.]
256 (return)
[ In the text "Ka'ka'";
hence the higher parts of Meccah, inhabited by the Jurham tribe, was
called "Jabal Ka'ka'án," from their clashing arms (Pilgrimage iii. 191).]
256 (return)
[ In the text "Ka'ka'";
so the higher regions of Meccah, where the Jurham tribe lived, were
called "Jabal Ka'ka'án," named for their clashing weapons (Pilgrimage iii. 191).]
257 (return)
[ This was the work of
the form of magic popularly known as Símiyá = 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."]
257 (return)
[ This was caused by a type of magic commonly known as Símiyá = fascination, see vol. i. 305, 332 for more details. It's believed to fade after three days, and mesmerists will easily recognize a typical effect on those who are "Odylic sensitives."]
258 (return)
[ Here supply the MS.
with "illá."]
258 (return)
[ Here supply the manuscript with "illá."]
259 (return)
[ In text
"tatadakhkhal'alay-h:" see "Dakhíl-ak," vol. i. 61.]
259 (return)
[ In text
"tatadakhkhal'alay-h:" see "Dakhíl-ak," vol. i. 61.]
260 (return)
[ Or "he": the verb may
also refer to the Sage.]
260 (return)
[ Or "he": the verb may also refer to the Sage.]
262 (return)
[ This, in the case of
the Wazir, was a transformation for the worse: see vol. vii. 294, for the
different kinds of metamorphosis.]
262 (return)
[ In the case of the Wazir, this was a change for the worse: see vol. vii. 294 for the various types of transformation.]
263 (return)
[ i.e. my high fortune
ending in the lowest.]
263 (return)
[ i.e. my great luck ending in the worst situation.]
264 (return)
[ In text "Bakar" = black
cattle, whether bull, ox or cow. For ploughing with bulls.]
264 (return)
[ In text "Bakar" = black cattle, including bulls, oxen, or cows. Used for plowing with bulls.]
265 (return)
[ In text "Mukrif" = lit.
born of a slave father and free mother.]
265 (return)
[ In text "Mukrif" = to be born of a slave father and a free mother.]
266 (return)
[ In text "Antum fí
kháshin wa básh," an error for "khásh-másh" = a miserable condition.]
266 (return)
[ In text "You're in a mess and trouble," an error for "a miserable condition."]
267 (return)
[ 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.]]
267 (return)
[ In text "yatbashsh" for "yanbashsha." [Or it could represent yabtashsh, with the usual transpositions of the "t" in the eighth form, as common in Egypt. See Spitta-Bey's Grammar, p. 198.— ST.]]
268 (return)
[ "Janánan," 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 "Jinánan," accusative of "Jinán," which is the broken plural of
"Jannah," along with the regular plural "Jannát," and, like the latter,
used for the gardens of Paradise.—ST.)]
268 (return)
[ "Janánan," which M. Houdas says is the common form of "Jannatan" = the garden (of Paradise). The Wazir played a trick on his listeners. (The word in the text might read "Jinánan," the accusative form of "Jinán," which is the irregular plural of "Jannah," along with the regular plural "Jannát," and is used for the gardens of Paradise—ST.)]
269 (return)
[ For this name of the
capital of Eastern Arabia see vols. i. 33, vii. 24.]
269 (return)
[ For the name of the capital of Eastern Arabia, see vols. i. 33, vii. 24.]
270 (return)
[ "To be" is the
Anglo-Oriental form of "Thaub" = in Arabia a loose robe like a nightgown.
See ii. 206.]
270 (return)
[ "To be" is the Anglo-Oriental version of "Thaub," which refers to a loose robe similar to a nightgown in Arabia. See ii. 206.]
271 (return)
[ The good old Mosaic
theory of retribution confined to this life, and the belief that Fate is
the fruit of man's action.]
271 (return)
[ The classic Mosaic theory of retribution limited to this life, and the belief that Fate is the outcome of a person's actions.]
272 (return)
[ Arab. "Sandarúsah" =
red juniper gum (Thuja articulata of Barbary), red arsenic realgar, from
the Pers. Sandar = amber.]
272 (return)
[ Arab. "Sandarúsah" = red juniper gum (Thuja articulata of Barbary), red arsenic realgar, from the Pers. Sandar = amber.]
273 (return)
[ MSS. pp. 718-724. This
fable, whose moral is that the biter is often bit, seems unknown to Æsop
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 Æsop 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 Æsop there is in MS.
a Latin Æsop 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.:—
273 (return)
[ MSS. pp. 718-724. This fable, which teaches that the one who attacks others may find themselves attacked, seems to be unknown to Æsop and the collection attributed to him during the so-called Dark Ages. It first appears in the old French metrical tale, Roman de Renart, called Si comme Renart prist Chanticler le Coq (ea. Meon, tom. i. 49). It is later included in the collection of fables by Marie, a French poetess whose Lais still exist; she states that she adapted it from English to French, the original being an Anglo-Saxon version of Æsop by a king whose name is variously recorded as Li reis Alured (Alfred?), Aunert (Albert?), Henris, or Mires. Although Alfred left no version of Æsop, there is a Latin manuscript of Æsop containing the same story from an English version by Rex Angliae Affrus. Marie's fable is printed in full in Dr. Morris's Chaucer (i. 247); London, Bell and Sons, 1880; and some 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.
Li gupil will speak out loud,
And the rooster will jump from its perch,
It has climbed up on a high post. And it ends with the excellent moral:—
And it ends with the great lesson:—
Ceo funt li fol tut le plusur,
Parolent quant deivent taiser,
Teisent quant il deivent parler.
Ceo funt le fou tout le temps,
Ils parlent quand ils devraient se taire,
Ils se taisent quand ils devraient 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.]
Lastly, the gentleman rooster named Chanticleer and the fox, Mr. Russell, a more complicated story, appears in "The Nun's Priest's Tale," by the Great Translator.
274 (return)
[ "Durà" in MS. (p. 718)
for "Zurà," 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.]
274 (return)
[ "Durà" in the manuscript (p. 718) for "Zurà," the classical term, or for "Zurrah," commonly pronounced "Durrah" = the Holcus Sativus previously mentioned, a plant found in both Africa and Asia, now being replaced by maize and rice.]
275 (return)
[ "Sa'alab" or "Tha'lab":
vol. iii. 132.]
275 (return)
[ "Sa'alab" or "Tha'lab": vol. iii. 132.]
276 (return)
[ In text "Kikán," plur.
of "Kíik" =des corneilles (Houdas).]
276 (return)
[ In text "Kikán," plural of "Kíik" = crows (Houdas).]
277 (return)
[ "Samman" or "Summán,"
classically "Salwà."]
277 (return)
[ "Samman" or "Summán," classically "Salwà."]
278 (return)
[ In text "Al-Kawání"=the
spears, plur. of "Kanát." ("Al- Kawání" as plural of a singular
"Kanát"=spear would be, I think, without analogy amongst the plural
formations, and its translation by "punishment" appears somewhat strained.
I propose to read "al-Ghawání" and to translate "and whoever lags behind
of the singing birds will not be safe" ("lá 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.)]
278 (return)
[ In the text "Al-Kawání" means the spears, which is the plural of "Kanát." I believe referring to "Al-Kawání" as the plural of a singular "Kanát" as "spear" lacks analogy with other plural formations, and translating it as "punishment" seems a bit forced. I suggest reading it as "al-Ghawání" and translating it to "and whoever falls behind of the singing birds will not be safe" ("lá yaslimu," it won't go well for him). In the fox's perspective, this serves as a subtle compliment for the rooster, who might be flattered to be included among the same group as the nightingale and the thrush.—ST.)]
279 (return)
[ In text "yá zayn" =Oh,
the beautiful beast!]
279 (return)
[ In text "yá zayn" =Oh, the beautiful creature!]
280 (return)
[ In text "Abú
Sahíh"=(flight to) a sure and safe place.]
280 (return)
[ In text "Abú Sahíh"=(flight to) a safe and secure spot.]
281 (return)
[ MS. pp. 725-739.]
281 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ MS. pp. 725-739.]
282 (return)
[ Arab. "Zábit," from
"Zabt"=keeping in subjection, holding tight, tying. Hence "Zabtiyah" = a
constable and "Zábit" = a Prefect of Police. See vol. i. 259. The rhyming
words are "Rábit" and "Hábit."]
282 (return)
[ Arab. "Zábit," from "Zabt"=keeping under control, holding tightly, tying. Thus "Zabtiyah" = a constable and "Zábit" = a police chief. See vol. i. 259. The rhyming words are "Rábit" and "Hábit."]
285 (return)
[ 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
285 (return)
[ The "Bahalul" of D'Herbelot. This notable figure was a somewhat simple-minded sage (similar to the Iourodivi of Russia and the Irish Omadhaun), who holds a unique place in contemporary histories, thriving during the time of Harun al-Rashid and remains famous in Persian stories. When the Caliph married him against his will, and all the ceremonies were properly completed and he was taken to bed with the bride, he listened to her intimate parts and immediately ran away in a panic. They brought him back and questioned him about his behavior, to which he replied, "If you had only heard what it said to me, you would have done the same." In the text, his actions are seen as selfish and dishonorable, similar to those of Honorius.
"Who strove to merit heaven by making earth a hell."
"Who worked hard to earn heaven by turning earth into 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.]
And he appears cold and inhumane like the miserable St. Alexius from the Gesta Romanorum (Tale xv.), a testament to the deep selfishness that Christianity teaches seriously and logically. See vol. v. 150.]
287 (return)
[ Koran xx. 57: it is the
famous "Tá-Há" whose first 14-16 verses are said to have converted the
hard-headed Omar. In the text the citation is garbled and imperfect.]
287 (return)
[ Quran xx. 57: it is the famous "Tá-Há" whose first 14-16 verses are said to have converted the stubborn Omar. In the text, the citation is jumbled and incomplete.]
288 (return)
[ In text "Mas'h."]
288 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ In text "Mas'h."]
289 (return)
[ "Hisában tawíl" = a
long punishment.]
289 (return)
[ "Hisában tawíl" = a long punishment.]
290 (return)
[ 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.]
290 (return)
[ The rod of Moses (see pp. 76-77) is the main example in Islam of the staff or walking stick, making it a widely recognized symbol of dignity. It also served to deliver immediate punishment, as seen with the strict Caliph Omar.]
291 (return)
[ An onomatopy like
"Coüic, Coüic." For "Maksah," read "Fa-sáha" = and cried out.]
291 (return)
[ A sound word like "Coüic, Coüic." For "Maksah," think "Fa-sáha" = and shouted.]
292 (return)
[ "Zindík" = Atheist,
Agnostic: see vols. v. 230; viii. 27.]
292 (return)
[ "Zindík" = Atheist, Agnostic: see vols. v. 230; viii. 27.]
293 (return)
[ "Harísah" =
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 Sikbáj, the Persian Sikbá, 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.]
293 (return)
[ "Harísah" = meat pudding. In Al-Hariri (Ass. xix.), where he lists various types of dishes along with their names, it is referred to as the "Mother of Strengthening" (or Restoration) because it includes wheat—"the Strengthener" (as opposed to barley and millets). So, the "Mother of Hospitality" is the Sikbáj, the Persian Sikbá, named that because it is the main dish served to guests and was considered royal food. (Chenery pp. 218, 457.) For the latter, see below.]
294 (return)
[ This passage in the MS.
(p. 733) is apparently corrupt. I have done my best to make sense of it.]
294 (return)
[ This passage in the manuscript (p. 733) seems to be corrupted. I've done my best to clarify it.]
296 (return)
[ In the Dicts. a plant
with acid flavour, dried, pounded and peppered over meat.]
296 (return)
[ In the Dicts. a plant with a sour taste, dried, crushed, and sprinkled over meat.]
298 (return)
[ "Tutmajíyah" for
"Tutmáj."]
298 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ "Tutmajíyah" for "Tutmáj."]
299 (return)
[ "Sikbáj," a marinated
stew like "Zirbájah" (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.]
299 (return)
[ "Sikbáj," a marinated stew similar to "Zirbájah" (vol. iii. 278): Historians say Khusrau Parwez was the first person to have it cooked, and no one was allowed to eat it without his permission. See retro.]
300 (return)
[ Kishk=ground wheat,
oatmeal or barley-flour eaten with soured sheep's milk and often with
meat.]
300 (return)
[Kishk=ground wheat, oatmeal, or barley flour served with soured sheep's milk and often accompanied by meat.]
301 (return)
[ So in text: I suspect
for "'Ajínniyah" = a dish of dough.]
301 (return)
[ So in text: I think
"'Ajínniyah" refers to a type of dough dish.]
302 (return)
[ The Golden Calf is
alluded to in many Koranic passages, e.g. Súrah ii. (the Cow) 48; vii.
(Al-Aaráf) 146; S. Iiv. (Woman) 152; but especially in S. xx. (Tá Há) 90,
where Sámiri 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 Birúni represents the Samaritans as being nicknamed
(not Al-limsahsit as Mr. Rodwell has it, but) "Lá Mesas" or "Lá Mesásiyah"
= the people who say "no touch" (i.e. touch me not, from Súrah 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 Náblús 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."]
302 (return)
[ The Golden Calf is referenced in many passages of the Quran, such as Surah ii. (the Cow) 48; vii. (Al-A’raf) 146; Surah iv. (Women) 152; but especially in Surah xx. (Ta-Ha) 90, where Samiri is specifically mentioned. Most Christian commentators translate this as "Samaritan" and wrongly criticize it as "a serious ignorance of history on Muhammad's part." However, the term is mysterious and remains unexplained. Rabbi Jehuda (followed by Geiger) comments on the text (Exod. xxxii. 24), "The calf emerged lowing and the Israelites saw it"; he also mentions that "Samael entered into it and lowed to mislead Israel" (Pirke R. Eliezer, 45). Many Muslims associate Samiri with Micah (Judges xvii.), who is said to have helped create the calf (Rashi, Sanhedrin cii. 2; Hottinger, Hist. Orient. p. 84). Selden (de Diis Syr. Syn. 1. cap.4) suggests that Samiri is Aaron himself, the Shomeer or guardian of Israel during Moses' absence. Mr. Rodwell (Koran, 2nd Edit. p. 90), who supports the "Samaritan" theory, writes, "It is likely (?) that the name and its use in this context stem from the old national conflict between the Jews and the Samaritans"—something Muhammad, living among the Jews, would have been at least as well informed about as any modern European. He cites De Sacy (Chrest. i. 189), who notes that Abu Rayhan Muhammad Biruni depicts the Samaritans as being nicknamed (not Al-limsahsit as Mr. Rodwell states, but) "Lá Mesas" or "Lá Mesásiyah" = the people who say "no touch" (i.e. touch me not, from Surah 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 lived in Cairo as late as the time of Scaliger (De Emend. Temp. vii. 622). Sale notes a similar presence on one of the islands of the Red Sea. Today, the Samaritans, or as their adversaries call them the Cuthim ("men from Cutha," Cushites), who physically resemble typical Jews, are found only in Nablus, where their population has decreased due to cousin intermarriage and a higher number of male births to about 120 individuals. They are, like the Shi'ah Muslims, cautious about avoiding ceremonial pollution; hence the title "Noli me tangere."]
303 (return)
[ Alluding to the
"Sayyád," lit. = a fisherman.]
303 (return)
[ Referring to the "Sayyád," which literally means a fisherman.]
304 (return)
[ In text "Al-Zahr."]
304 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ In text "Al-Zahr."]
305 (return)
[ "Ajdár."]
305 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ "Ajdár."]
306 (return)
[ In text "Al-Maláya."]
306 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ In text "Al-Malaya."]
307 (return)
[ In text "Sinaubar,"
which may also mean pistachio-tree.]
307 (return)
[ In text "Sinaubar," which could also refer to a pistachio tree.]
308 (return)
[ i.e. 475 to 478 Eng.
grains avoir., less than the Ukiyyah or Wukiyyah=ounce = 571.5 to 576
grains. Vol. ix. 216.]
308 (return)
[ i.e. 475 to 478 English grains, which is less than the Ukiyyah or Wukiyyah = ounce = 571.5 to 576 grains. Vol. ix. 216.]
309 (return)
[ Not more absurd than an
operatic hero singing while he dies.]
309 (return)
[ Not any more ridiculous than an operatic hero singing while he's dying.]
310 (return)
[ 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).]
310 (return)
[ MS. pp. 588-627. In
Gauttier's edit. vii. (234-256), it appears as Histoire de l'Habitant de
Damas. His advertisement at the beginning of vol. vii. tells us that it
has been printed in earlier editions but is significantly improved in his; however,
whether that is true or not, the work is hardly worth mentioning. In Heron, it is titled The
POWER OF DESTINY, or The Story of Giafar's Journey to Damascus,
including the adventures of Chebib and his Family (Vol. i. Pp.
69-175).]
311 (return)
[ Damascus-city (for
which see the tale of Núr al-Din Ali and his Son, The Nights, vol. i.
239-240) derives its name from Dimishk who was son of Bátir, i. Málik, i.
Arphaxed, i. Shám, i. Nuh (Noah); or son of Nimrod, son of Canaan. Shám =
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 "Shám" because it is the "Shámat"
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.]
311 (return)
[ Damascus-city (for
more details, see the story of Núr al-Din Ali and his Son, The Nights, vol. i.
239-240) gets its name from Dimishk, who was the son of Bátir, i. Málik, i.
Arphaxed, i. Shám, i. Nuh (Noah); or the son of Nimrod, son of Canaan. Shám =
Syria (and its capital), the land to the left, as opposed to Al-Yaman, the
land to the right when facing East, is mentioned in vol. i. 55. In Mr.
Cotheal's manuscript, Damascus is referred to as "Shám" because it is the "Shámat"
beauty mark of Allah on earth. "Jalak," the older name for the "Smile of the Prophet,"
is also mentioned: see vol. ii. 109.]
312 (return)
[ Hátim of the
Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality. See vols. iv. 95, and vii. 350.]
312 (return)
[ Hátim of the Tayy tribe, famous for his generosity. See vols. iv. 95, and vii. 350.]
313 (return)
[ In Mr. Cotheal's MS.
the Caliph first laughs until he falls backwards, and then after reading
further, weeps until his beard in bathed.]
313 (return)
[ In Mr. Cotheal's MS. the Caliph first laughs so hard that he falls backwards, and then after reading more, he cries until his beard is soaked.]
314 (return)
[ 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 Tayyár, 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 Jámi'a) under the articles "Ali" and
"Gefru Giame."]
314 (return)
[ Heron adds in his text, "It turned out to be a Giaffer, famous throughout all of Arabia," and notes in a footnote that it is "Attributed to a prince of the Barmecide lineage, an ancestor of the Grand Vizier Giafar." The term "Jafr" is believed to refer to a skin (from a camel or dog), prepared like parchment for writing; and Al-Jafr, the book in question, is described as a mystical prediction of everything that will ever happen to Muslims. It is said to have been written by Ali, the Prophet's son-in-law. There are many legendary stories about its contents; however, all are just fabrications since the book is thought to be kept within the Prophet's family, and its full meaning will not be revealed until the Mahdi or the Forerunner of Judgment Day explains its complexities. Common Muslims in India often confuse Al-Jafr with Ja'afar bin Tayyár, the Jinni frequently mentioned in talismans (see Herklots, pp. 109-257). D'Herbelot summarizes what is generally known about the "Jafr" (wa Jámi'a) in the entries "Ali" and "Gefru Giame."]
315 (return)
[ The father (whom Heron
calls "Hichia Barmaki") spoke not at random, but guessed that the Caliph
had been reading the book Al-Jafr.]
315 (return)
[The father (whom Heron refers to as "Hichia Barmaki") didn’t speak out of the blue, but suspected that the Caliph had been reading the book Al-Jafr.]
316 (return)
[ Heron calls Ja'afar's
wife "Fatmé" from the French.]
316 (return)
[ Heron refers to Ja'afar's wife as "Fatmé" in French.]
317 (return)
[ This is the open grassy
space on the left bank of the Baradah River, first sighted by travellers
coming from Bayrút. See vol. i. 234, where it is called Al-Hasá = the
Plain of Pebbles.]
317 (return)
[ This is the open grassy area on the left bank of the Baradah River, first seen by travelers coming from Beirut. See vol. i. 234, where it is referred to as Al-Hasá = the Plain of Pebbles.]
318 (return)
[ Heron names him Chebib
(Habíb) also "Xakem Tai-Chebib" = Hátim Tayy Habíb.]
318 (return)
[ Heron calls him Chebib (Habíb) also "Xakem Tai-Chebib" = Hátim Tayy Habíb.]
319 (return)
[ The scene is described
at full length in the Cotheal MS. with much poetry sung by a fair
slave-girl and others.]
319 (return)
[ The scene is detailed extensively in the Cotheal manuscript, featuring a lot of poetry sung by a beautiful slave girl and others.]
320 (return)
[ Again showing the date
of the tale to be modern. See my Terminal Essay, p. 85.]
320 (return)
[Again showing that the date of the story is modern. See my Terminal Essay, p. 85.]
321 (return)
[ 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?"]
321 (return)
[ This might still be useful today to ask a respected guest why they came and what their business is—it’s the way a well-mannered person addresses a stranger whose rank and background they don’t know. The rude would just say, "Who are you, and where are you from?"]
322 (return)
[ In Heron the host
learns everything by the book Al-Jafr.]
322 (return)
[ In Heron, the host learns everything from the book Al-Jafr.]
323 (return)
[ In text "Muzawwa" which
the Egyptian pronounces "Mugawwaz."]
323 (return)
[ In the text "Muzawwa," which the Egyptian says as "Mugawwaz."]
324 (return)
[ Which would be
necessary after car. cop. with his women.]
324 (return)
[ Which would be necessary after dealing with his women.]
325 (return)
[ 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 Báb-al-Shághúr 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."]
325 (return)
[ In the text "Kabr al-Sitt," where Sitt Zaynab, Mohammed's aunt, is believed to be buried. The cultivation starts about half a mile's ride from the Báb-al-Shághúr or S. Western gate of the city. Baedeker mentions it (p. 439), while Murray overlooks it, as his editor, Mr. Missionary Porter, prefers to serve the usual "hashed Bible."]
326 (return)
[ Arab. "Jámi' al-Amawí":
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 world.]
326 (return)
[ Arab. "Jámi' al-Amawí":
for this mosque, which is one of the Wonders of the Muslim World, check any guidebook about Damascus. See Suppl. vol. iv. Night cccxlii. In Heron, it is referred to as "Giamah Illamoue," one of the three most famous mosques in the world.]
327 (return)
[ M. houdas trasnlates
"Tarz," "Márkaz" or "Mirkáz" by Un pierrre en forme de dame, instrument
qui sert à enfoncer les pavés (= our "beetle"); c'est-à-dire en form de
borne.]
327 (return)
[ M. houdas translates "Tarz," "Márkaz" or "Mirkáz" as a stone shaped like a lady, an instrument used to drive in the paving stones (our "beetle"); that is, in the shape of a boundary marker.]
328 (return)
[ For this
"window-gardening," an ancient practice in the East, see vol. i. 301.]
328 (return)
[ For this
"window-gardening," an old practice in the East, see vol. i. 301.]
329 (return)
[ Heron calls her
"Negemet-il-Souper" = Najmat al-Sabáh = 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.]
329 (return)
[ Heron refers to her as "Negemet-il-Souper" = Najmat al-Sabáh = Constellation of Morn. In the Cotheal manuscript, she speaks very harshly to the stranger, saying, "O Bull (i.e. O foolish one), this is neither your house nor your father's house," etc.; "leave now and be cursed by God and go to Hell," etc.]
330 (return)
[ For "Kayf" = joy, the
pleasure of living, see my Pligrimage i. 12-13.]
330 (return)
[ For "Kayf" = joy, the pleasure of living, see my Pilgrimage i. 12-13.]
331 (return)
[ In text, "'Ayyik," or
"'Ayyuk" = a hinderer (of disease) from 'Ayk or 'Auk, whence also 'Ayyúk =
Capella, a bright star proverbial for its altitude, as in the Turk, saw
"to give praise to the 'Ayyúk" = skies.]
331 (return)
[ In text, "'Ayyik," or
"'Ayyuk" = a hindrance (to disease) from 'Ayk or 'Auk, which is also related to 'Ayyúk =
Capella, a bright star known for its height, as in Turkish, "to give praise to the 'Ayyúk" = skies.]
332 (return)
[ Auspicious formulæ. The
Cotheal MS. calls the physician "Dubdihkán."]
332 (return)
[ Lucky formulas. The Cotheal manuscript refers to the doctor as "Dubdihkán."]
333 (return)
[ In text "Kullu Shayyin
lí mu'as'as"; the latter from "'As'as" = to complicate a matter.]
333 (return)
[ In text "Everything is complicated"; the latter from "As'as" = to complicate a matter.]
334 (return)
[ 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.]
334 (return)
[ This shows that he identified a moral issue rather than a physical one. In The Nights, we frequently see the doctor or the elderly woman recognizing a love-related condition by checking the pulse or through other vague signs, as seen in the story of Seleucus, Stratonice, and her stepson Antiochus—which seems to be the prototype of these tales.]
335 (return)
[ Arab. "Kirsh," before
explained; in Harun's day = 3 francs.]
335 (return)
[ Arab. "Kirsh," previously explained; during Harun's time = 3 francs.]
336 (return)
[ 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.]
336 (return)
[ In the Cotheal MS, the recipe takes up an entire page filled with ridiculous items, such as "Take three Miskals of pure 'Union-with-the-lover,'" etc.]
337 (return)
[ 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.]
337 (return)
[ In the Cotheal MS. Attaf reaches out to his uncle and father-in-law to let them know that he is going on the Pilgrimage and Visitation.]
338 (return)
[ 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 Báshá of Damascus"
(p. 39).]
338 (return)
[ In the old translation or adaptation known as "Scheffander-Hassan" or simply "Scheffander" = Shahbandar Hasan, see vol. iv. 29. In the Cotheal MS. (p. 33), he is referred to as "Emir Omar, and the Báshá of Damascus" (p. 39).]
339 (return)
[ The passage is
exceedingly misspelt. "Ammá min Maylí Binti-ka sháshí Aná Aswadu (for
Sháshi M. Houdas reads "Jáshí" = my heart) Wa Taná (read "Thaná,"
reputation) Binti-ka abyazu min Sháshí."]
339 (return)
[ The passage is extremely misspelled. "Ammá min Maylí Binti-ka sháshí Aná Aswadu (for Sháshi M. Houdas reads "Jáshí" = my heart) Wa Taná (read "Thaná," reputation) Binti-ka abyazu min Sháshí."]
341 (return)
[ In text "Muábalár min
Shaani-ka." M. Houdas reads the first word "Muzábal" = zublán, wearied,
flaccid, weak.]
341 (return)
[ In text "Muábalár min
Shaani-ka." M. Houdas interprets the first word as "Muzábal" = zublán, exhausted,
limp, weak.]
342 (return)
[ For "Al-'iddah," in the
case of a divorcée 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.]
342 (return)
[For "Al-'iddah," the waiting period for a divorcee is three lunar months, for a widow it's four months and ten days, and for a pregnant woman, it's until she gives birth. See vols. iii. 292; vi. 256; and x. 43: also Lane (M.E.) chap. iii.]
343 (return)
[ In text "Alfi (4th form
of 'Lafw') Hájatan," 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."]
343 (return)
[In the text "Alfi (4th form of 'Lafw') Hájatan," the interpretation is by M. Houdas; and it means "what do you want (for entertainment)? I am here for you."]
344 (return)
[ 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"
(wáw = 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.]
344 (return)
[Heron has inserted an adventure involving a Bazar-cook and another with a Confectioner: both recognize Ja'afar through a copy of the "Giaffer" (Al-Jafr). These stories are followed by a tale of a fisherman who catches an incredible haul by saying the letters "Gim. Bi. Ouaow" (wáw = J. B. W.), referring to Ja'afar, Barmecide, Wazir, and identifies the Minister using a geomantic chart. Then three Darvishes come together and discuss the qualities of "Chebib" (i.e. Attaf); and finally, two blind men appear, the older one named Benphises, whose wife studied occultism and the Dom-Daniel of Tunis, and she figures out who Ja'afar is. All of this sets the stage for the series of incredible marvels and unexpected events that Ja'afar's father foretold when he instructed him to travel to Damascus; and I have neither the space nor the desire to point out their ridiculous absurdities.]
345 (return)
[ 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" (Náib = lieutenant) of Syria.]
345 (return)
[ This Governor should not be confused with the virtuous and frugal Caliph of the same name, who was the tenth in the series (reigned A.D. 692-705). Before taking the throne, he studied theology in Al-Medinah and earned the nickname "Mosque-pigeon." After becoming ruler, he closed the Quran and said, "This is where you and I part," and focused entirely on worldly affairs. The Cotheal MS. only refers to the "Nabob" (Náib = lieutenant) of Syria.]
346 (return)
[ "Kapú" (written and
pronounced Kapi in Turk.) is a door, a house or a government office and
Kapújí = a porter; Kapújí-báshí = head porter; also a chamberlain in Arab.
"Hájíb"; and Kapú Katkhúdási (pron. Kapi-Kyáyasí) = the agent which every
Governor is obliged to keep at Constantinople.]
346 (return)
[ "Kapú" (written and pronounced Kapi in Turkish) means a door, a house, or a government office. Kapújí refers to a porter; Kapújí-báshí means head porter; it also refers to a chamberlain in Arabic, "Hájíb." Kapú Katkhúdási (pronounced Kapi-Kyáyasí) is the representative that every Governor must maintain in Constantinople.]
347 (return)
[ In text "Al-buyúrdi,"
clerical error for "Buyúruldi" (pron. Buyúruldu) = the written order of a
Governor.]
347 (return)
[In text "Al-buyúrdi," a clerical mistake for "Buyúruldi" (pron. Buyúruldu) = the written directive of a Governor.]
348 (return)
[ "Al-Yamaklak" = vivers,
provaunt; from the T. "Yamak" = food, a meal.]
348 (return)
[ "Al-Yamaklak" = food, provisions; from the T. "Yamak" = food, a meal.]
349 (return)
[ Meaning that he waived
his right to it.]
349 (return)
[ This means that he gave up his right to it.]
350 (return)
[ In text "Zawádah" (gen.
"Azwád" or "Azwi'dah") = provisions, viaticum.]
350 (return)
[ In text "Zawádah" (gen. "Azwád" or "Azwi'dah") = supplies, travel provisions.]
351 (return)
[ In text "Takhtrawún";
see vols. ii. 180; v. 175. In the Cotheal MS. it is a "Haudaj" =
camel-litter (vol. viii. 235).]
351 (return)
[ In text "Takhtrawún"; see vols. ii. 180; v. 175. In the Cotheal MS. it is a "Haudaj" = camel-litter (vol. viii. 235).]
352 (return)
[ "Kubbat al-'Asáfír,"
now represented by the "Khan al-Asáfír," on the road from Damascus to
Palmyra, about four hours' ride from and to the N. East of the Báb Túmá or
N. Eastern gate. The name is found in Baedeker (p. 541). IN the C. MS. it
becomes the "Thaníyyat al-'Ukáb" = the Vulture's Pass.]
352 (return)
[ "Kubbat al-'Asáfír," now known as "Khan al-Asáfír," located on the road from Damascus to Palmyra, approximately a four-hour ride to the northeast of the Báb Túmá or northeastern gate. The name appears in Baedeker (p. 541). In the C. MS. it is referred to as "Thaníyyat al-'Ukáb" = the Vulture's Pass.]
353 (return)
[ Meaning that Attaf had
not the heart to see his cousin-wife leave her home.]
353 (return)
[ This means that Attaf couldn't bear to watch his cousin-wife leave her home.]
354 (return)
[ Written in Turkish
fashion with the Jím (j) and three dots instead of one. This Persian
letter is still preserved in the Arabic alphabets of Marocco, Algiers,
etc.]
354 (return)
[ Written in Turkish style with the Jím (j) and three dots instead of one. This Persian letter is still kept in the Arabic alphabets of Morocco, Algiers, etc.]
355 (return)
[ 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 Jinní or Shaytán. So the Prophet
declared of Omar, "I never saw such an 'Abkarí amongst men," 'Abkar, in
Yamámah, like Yabrín and Wabár 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. 478-9.]
355 (return)
[ In Arabic, "Jinn" =
spirit or energy of a person, which here corresponds with the Hebrew "Aub"; for example, in the Hamasah, the poet says, "My Jinn have not fled; my life is not dull; my birds never drooped for fear," where commentators note that the Arabs compare an energetic person to a Jinní or Shaytán. The Prophet said of Omar, "I never saw such an 'Abkarí among men," 'Abkar, in Yamámah, like Yabrín and Wabár near Al-Yaman, being a desolate area, the home of evil races destroyed by Allah and now inhabited by terrifying beings of non-human nature. Chenery, pp. 478-9.]
356 (return)
[ In the C. MS. it is an
Emir of the Emirs.]
356 (return)
[ In the C. MS. it is an Emir of the Emirs.]
357 (return)
[ Arab. "Tábah."]
357 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Arab. "Tábah."]
358 (return)
[ This excellent episode
is omitted in the C. MS. where Attaf simply breaks gaol and reaching
Aleppo joins a caravan to Baghdad.]
358 (return)
[ This great episode is left out in the C. MS. where Attaf just escapes from prison and, reaching Aleppo, joins a caravan to Baghdad.]
359 (return)
[ In text "Katalú-ní":
see vols. v. 5; vi. 171.]
359 (return)
[ In text "Katalú-ní":
see vols. v. 5; vi. 171.]
360 (return)
[ In the C. MS. he enters
a mosque and finds a Ja'ídí (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 Isá bin
Maryam." For the rest see Mr. Cotheal's version.]
360 (return)
[ In the C. MS. he walks into a mosque and finds a Ja'ídí (wanderer) who opens his bag and takes out a loaf of bread, some roasted food, lemons, olives, cucumbers, and date cake, which remind Attaf, who hadn't eaten any of these things for a month, of "the feast of Isá bin Maryam." For the rest, refer to Mr. Cotheal's version.]
361 (return)
[ The C. MS. gives the
short note in full.]
361 (return)
[ The C. MS. provides the full short note.]
362 (return)
[ In text "al-Towáb,"
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.]
362 (return)
[ In text "al-Towáb," Arab. plur. of the Persian and Turk. "Top." We barely expected to find ordinance in the time of Harun al-Rashid, although according to Milton, they originated before the days of Adam.]
363 (return)
[ M. Houdas would read
for "Alhy Tys" in the text "Tuhá Tays" a general feast; "Tuhá" = cooked
meat and "Tays" = myriads of.]
363 (return)
[ M. Houdas would read
for "Alhy Tys" in the text "Tuhá Tays" as a general feast; "Tuhá" = cooked
meat and "Tays" = countless.]
364 (return)
[ M. Houdas translates
les injures devancèrent les compliments, an idiom = he did not succeed in
his design.]
364 (return)
[ M. Houdas translates
the insults came before the compliments, an idiom = he did not succeed in
his plan.]
365 (return)
[ "Cousin" being more
polite than "wife": see vols. vi. 145; ix. 225.]
365 (return)
[ "Cousin" is a more polite term than "wife": see vols. vi. 145; ix. 225.]
366 (return)
[ Les vertèbres ont fait
bourrelet, says M. Houdas who adds that "Shakbán" 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.]
366 (return)
[ The vertebrae have formed a bulge, says Mr. Houdas, who adds that "Shakbán" is the end of a piece of cloth, gown, or cloak that is draped over the shoulders and functions, like the "Jayb" at the front, to carry small items, herbs, and so on.]
367 (return)
[ In the local Min
jargon, the language of Fellahs, "Addíki" = I will give thee.]
367 (return)
[ In the local Min jargon, the language of farmers, "Addíki" = I will give you.]
368 (return)
[ In text "Min al-'Án wa
sá'idan;" lit. = from this moment upwards.]
368 (return)
[In text "From this moment on;"]
369 (return)
[ "Tarajjum" taking
refuge from Satan the Stone (Rajím). See vol. iv. 242.]
369 (return)
[ "Tarajjum" seeking protection from Satan the Stone (Rajím). See vol. iv. 242.]
370 (return)
[ i.e. a descenant of
Al-Háshim, great-grandfather of the Prophet. See ix. 24.]
370 (return)
[ i.e. a descendant of Al-Háshim, great-grandfather of the Prophet. See ix. 24.]
371 (return)
[ In text "Shobási," for
"Sobáshí" which M. Houdas translates prévôt du Palais.]
371 (return)
[ In text "Shobási," for "Sobáshí" which M. Houdas translates as provost of the Palace.]
372 (return)
[ In the C. MS. Attaf's
head was to be cut off.]
372 (return)
[ In the C. MS. Attaf's head was to be cut off.]
373 (return)
[ 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 Sharíf or Háshimi.]
373 (return)
[ In the C. MS., the recognition scene is much more detailed. Ja'afar asks Attaf if he knew a guy from Damascus named Attaf and so on; and finally, an old man steps forward and admits to having killed the Sharíf or Háshimi.]
374 (return)
[ The drink before the
meal, as is still the custom in Syria and Egypt. See vol. vii. 132.]
374 (return)
[ The drink before the meal, as is still the custom in Syria and Egypt. See vol. vii. 132.]
375 (return)
[ 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 Bakkál or greengrocer, was made premier of Fath Ali
Shah's brilliant court, the last bright flash of Iranian splendour and
autocracy. But Irán 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.]
375 (return)
[ Gauttier (vii. 256), illustrating the sudden rise of low-caste and uneducated individuals to high status, quotes a contemporary figure, the well-known Mirza Mohammed Husayn Khan, who, originally a greengrocer, became the prime minister of Fath Ali Shah's impressive court, the last flash of Iranian glory and absolute rule. But Iran is a land upon which Nature has inscribed "I shall rise again"; and despite its current unusual position between two enormous, dominant empires—British India and Russia in Asia—it still has a role to play in history. And I should also mention that Islam is founded on the core principle of a Republic which states that all (free) men are equal, and even the lowest can aspire to the highest honor.]
376 (return)
[ In text "'Aramramí."]
376 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ In text "'Aramramí."]
377 (return)
[ "Wa'lláha 'l-Muwaffiku
'l-Mu'in" = God prospereth and directeth, a formula often prefixed or
suffixed to a book.]
377 (return)
[ "God guides and helps" = a phrase often placed at the beginning or end of a book.]
378 (return)
[ 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).]
378 (return)
[ MS. pp. 628-685.
Gauttier, vii. 64-90; History of Prince Habib and Princess
Dorrat-el-Gawas. The English translation calls it "Story of Habib and
Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian Knight" (vol. iii. 219-89); which
reduces the impressive title to a mere echo of Dorothy Goose. The name
means 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).]
379 (return)
[ The "Banú Hilál," 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 "Baní"
for "Banú".]
379 (return)
[ The "Banú Hilál," a well-known tribe that was part of a coalition against the Prophet during his campaign to Honayn. See Tabari, vol. iii. chapt. 32, and Doughty, Arabia Deserta (Index, B. Helal). In the text, we have the common term "Baní" instead of "Banú".]
380 (return)
[ 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 Amírala which, if it mean anything, is = Colonel, or
Captain R. N.]
380 (return)
[ Gauttier (vii. 64) completely skips the previous Emir since he has no relevance to the story. It’s the same in Heron, where the second chief is called "Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis"; or simply "Salamis" for short; and his wife is referred to as Amírala which, if it means anything, is equivalent to Colonel or Captain R. N.]
383 (return)
[ 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.]
383 (return)
[ As has been observed, Gauttier simplifies the title to "Prince." Among Arabs, however, it is not just a proper name but can refer to any rank from a Shaykh to a Sultan, as is appropriate.]
384 (return)
[ 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!]
384 (return)
[ 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 need to ask my master for the information you want. As for me, I have to be all eyes and ears for a while. I need to learn how to use my hands before I start speaking, and to write my letters as pure as pearls from the water." And this is translation!]
385 (return)
[ 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.]
385 (return)
[ It's worth mentioning that "Voices from the other world" are a common theme in what's known as Spiritualism. See also vol. i. 142 and Suppl. Vol. iii.]
386 (return)
[ This tale and most of
those in the MS. affect the Ká1a l-Ráwí (= quoth the reciter) showing the
true use of them. See Terminal Essay, vol. x. 144.]
386 (return)
[ This story and most of the others in the manuscript are influenced by the Ká1a l-Ráwí (= said the storyteller), which demonstrates their real purpose. See Terminal Essay, vol. x. 144.]
387 (return)
[ The missing apodosis
would be, "You would understand the cause of my weeping."]
387 (return)
[ The missing conclusion would be, "You would understand why I'm crying."]
388 (return)
[ In the text there are
only five lines. I have borrowed the sixth from the prose.]
388 (return)
[ In the text there are only five lines. I have borrowed the sixth from the prose.]
389 (return)
[ "Dáúd" = David: see
vols. ii. 286; vi. 113.]
389 (return)
[ "Dáúd" = David: see
vols. ii. 286; vi. 113.]
391 (return)
[ From "Rudaynah," either
a woman or a place: see vols. ii. 1; vii. 265; and for "Khatt Hajar" vol.
ii. 1.]
391 (return)
[ From "Rudaynah," which can refer to either a woman or a location: see vols. ii. 1; vii. 265; and for "Khatt Hajar" vol. ii. 1.]
392 (return)
[ This is the idiomatic
meaning of the Arab word "Nizál" = dismounting to fight on foot.]
392 (return)
[ This is the literal meaning of the Arab word "Nizál" = getting down to fight on foot.]
393 (return)
[ In the text "Akyál,"
plur. of "Kayl" = Kings of the Himyarite peoples. See vol. vii. 60; here
it is = the hero, the heroes.]
393 (return)
[ In the text "Akyál," plural of "Kayl" = Kings of the Himyarite peoples. See vol. vii. 60; here it refers to the hero, the heroes.]
394 (return)
[ An intensive word, "on
the weight," as the Arabs say of 'Abbás (stern-faced) and meaning "Very
stern-faced, austere, grim." In the older translations it becomes "Il
Haboul"—utterly meaningless.]
394 (return)
[ A strong expression, "on the weight," as the Arabs say of 'Abbás (stern-faced) meaning "Very stern-faced, serious, grim." In the older translations, it appears as "Il Haboul"—completely meaningless.]
395 (return)
[ 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-'Atrús?)." He married her to a potent monarch named
"Shah-Goase" (Shah Ghawwás=King Diver), in this version "Sábúr" (Shahpur),
and by him Kamar Al-Zaman became the mother of Durrat al-Ghawwas.]
395 (return)
[ The Arab. "Moon of the Time" is referred to as "Camaulzaman" in the older versions, which means "Complete Time." She is the daughter of a Jinn-King named "Illabousatrous (Al-'Atrús?)." He married her off to a powerful ruler called "Shah-Goase" (Shah Ghawwás=King Diver), who in this version is "Sábúr" (Shahpur), and through him, Kamar Al-Zaman became the mother of Durrat al-Ghawwas.]
396 (return)
[ In text "Sádát wa
Ashráf:" for the technical meaning of "Sayyid" and "Sharif" see vols. iv.
170; v. 259.]
396 (return)
[In the text "Sádát wa Ashráf:" for the technical meanings of "Sayyid" and "Sharif," see vols. iv. 170; v. 259.]
397 (return)
[ Gauttier, vii. 71. Les
Isles Bellour. see vol. iii. 194.]
397 (return)
[ Gauttier, vii. 71. Les Isles Bellour. see vol. iii. 194.]
398 (return)
[ Heron's
"Illabousatrous"(?).]
398 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Heron's "Illabousatrous"(?).]
399 (return)
[ In text "Zayjah," from
Pers. "Záycheh" = lit. a horoscope, a table for calculating nativities and
so forth. In page 682 of the MS. the word is used = marriage-lines.]
399 (return)
[In the text "Zayjah," from Pers. "Záycheh" = literally a horoscope, a chart for calculating birth charts and so on. On page 682 of the manuscript, the term is used to mean marriage lines.]
400 (return)
[ In text "Snsál," for
"Salsál " = lit. chain.]
400 (return)
[ In text "Snsál," for "Salsál " = lit. chain.]
401 (return)
[ 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. Khatíb = a preacher, not Kátib =
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 François 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 Machhí
(fish) from the Sanskrit Matsya.]
401 (return)
[ In Sindbad the Seaman I have illustrated that using men as donkeys is a humorous exaggeration of a practice in Africa, where the Minister typically serves as the King's beast of burden. The same was true in the Maldives. "As soon as the lord wants to disembark, one of the chief Catibes (Arab. Khatíb = a preacher, not Kátib = a writer) steps forward to offer his shoulder (a highly respected role) and the other climbs onto his shoulders; thus, with a leg on each side, he rides him like a horse to the shore, where he is then set down." See p. 71, "The Voyage of François Pyrard," etc. This volume is exceptionally well edited by Mr. Albert Gray, formerly of the Ceylon Civil Service, for the Hakluyt Society, MDCCCLXXXVII: it is, however, unfortunate that he and Mr. Bell, his collaborator, did not trace the Maldive words back to their "Aryan" origins, showing their connection to vulgar Hindostani as Mas to Machhí (fish) from the Sanskrit Matsya.]
402 (return)
[ In text "Ghayth
al-Hátíl = 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.]
402 (return)
[ In text "Ghayth al-Hátíl = constant light rain, widely spread. In Arabic, the terms for clouds, rain, and related concepts essential to a pastoral culture are nearly countless. Poetry has taken these concrete terms and transformed them into numerous metaphors; for "the essence of the Arabic language, much like that of Hebrew, is to create new ideas by assigning metaphorical meanings to physical objects (e.g. 'Azud, literally the upper arm; metaphorically a helper)." Chenery, p. 380.]
403 (return)
[ 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
example.]
403 (return)
[ In the text "To the palace:" the writer, seemingly forgetting that he is discussing Badawi life, sometimes slips into phrases like "decorating the capital" and "adorning the mansion," as if he were describing typical city life. I have not followed his example.]
404 (return)
[ Heron translates "A
massy cuirass of Haoudi."]
404 (return)
[ Heron translates "A heavy armor of Haoudi."]
405 (return)
[ In text, "Inbasata
'l-Layl al-Asá," which M. Houdas renders et s'étendit la nuit (mère) de la
tristesse.]
405 (return)
[ In text, "Inbasata 'l-Layl al-Asá," which M. Houdas translates as "and the night (mother) of sadness spread out."]
406 (return)
[ "Rauzah" in Algiers is
a royal park; also a prairie, as "Rauz al-Sanájirah," plain of the
Sinjars: Ibn Khaldun, ii. 448.]
406 (return)
[ "Rauzah" in Algiers is a royal park; it’s also a plain, like "Rauz al-Sanájirah," the plain of the Sinjars: Ibn Khaldun, ii. 448.]
407 (return)
[ The "Miskál" (for which
see vols. i. 126; ix. 262) is the weight of a dinar = 1½ 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 Náo
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.]
407 (return)
[ The "Miskál" (see vols. i. 126; ix. 262) is the weight of a dinar = 1½ dirham = 71-72 grains avoir. A dose of 142 grains would be lethal to a camel. In 1848, when we were marching up the Indus Valley under Sir Charles Napier to attack Náo Mall of Multan, the Sind Camel Corps was expected to march about 50 miles a day, and they achieved this by getting the animals extremely intoxicated with Bhang or Indian hemp.]
408 (return)
[ In text, "Yakhat,"
probably clerical error for "Yakhbut," lit. = he was panting in a state of
unconsciousness: see Dozy, Suppl. s. v.]
408 (return)
[In the text, "Yakhat," is likely a typo for "Yakhbut," meaning he was panting while unconscious: see Dozy, Suppl. s. v.]
409 (return)
[ In text "Al-Dán, which
is I presume a clerical error for "Al-Uzn" = ear. ["Dán," with the dual
"Dánayn," and "Wudn," with the plural "Audán," are popular forms for the
literary "Uzn."- -ST.]]
409 (return)
[ In text "Al-Dán, which I assume is a typo for "Al-Uzn" = ear. ["Dán," with the dual "Dánayn," and "Wudn," with the plural "Audán," are common forms for the literary "Uzn."- -ST.]]
410 (return)
[ This name has occurred
in MS. p. 655, but it is a mere nonentity until p. 657—the normal
incuriousness. Heron dubs him "Rabir."]
410 (return)
[ This name has appeared in MS. p. 655, but it doesn't really mean anything until p. 657—the typical lack of interest. Heron calls him "Rabir."]
411 (return)
[ In the text "Zimmat" =
obligation, protection, clientship.]
411 (return)
[ In the text "Zimmat" = obligation, protection, clientship.]
412 (return)
[ "Sahha 'alakah" (=a
something) "fí hazá 'l-Amri." The first word appears de trop being
enclosed in brackets in the MS.]
412 (return)
[ "Sahha 'alakah" (=a something) "in this matter." The first word seems unnecessary as it is enclosed in brackets in the manuscript.]
413 (return)
[ "Wa yabkí alaykum
Mabálu-h." (For "Mabál" I would read "Wabál," in the sense of crime or
punishment, and translate: "lest the guilt of it rest upon you."—ST.)]
413 (return)
[ "And it will weigh heavily on you." (For "Mabál" I would read "Wabál," in the sense of crime or punishment, and translate: "lest the guilt of it rest upon you."—ST.)]
414 (return)
[ In the text "Suwaydá"
literally "a small and blackish woman"; and "Suwaydá 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 "Suwaydá" are diminutives
of "Aswad," black, and its fem. "Saudá" respectively, meaning blackish.
The former occurs in "Umm al-Suwayd" = anus. "Suwaydá 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.)]
414 (return)
[ In the text "Suwaydá" literally means "a small and dark woman"; and "Suwaydá al-Kalb" (the dark one of the heart) refers to original sin, as we would express it today. The diminutive of "Sayyid" would be "Suwayyid," similar to "Kuwayyis" from "Kayyis," and "Juwayyid" from "Jayyid" (see above p. 3). "Suwayd" and "Suwaydá" are diminutives of "Aswad," which means black, and its feminine form "Saudá," respectively, suggesting a darkish color. The former occurs in "Umm al-Suwayd," meaning anus. "Suwaydá al-Kalb," meaning the darkish drop of clotted blood in the heart, is synonymous with "Habbat al-Kalb," meaning the grain in the heart, and corresponds to what we refer to as the core of the heart. Metaphorically, both terms are used to mean "original sin."—ST.)]
415 (return)
[ "Yákah Thiyábish;" the
former word being Turkish (M. Houdas).]
415 (return)
[ "Yákah Thiyábish;" the earlier term comes from Turkish (M. Houdas).]
416 (return)
[ Arab. "Kaunayn" = the
two entities, this world and the other world, the past and the future,
etc. Here it is opposed to "'A'lamína," here Awálim = the (three) worlds,
for which see vol. ii. 236.]
416 (return)
[ Arab. "Kaunayn" = the two realms, this world and the next, the past and the future, etc. Here it is contrasted with "'A'lamína," here Awálim = the (three) worlds, for which see vol. ii. 236.]
417 (return)
[ In text "Changul,"
again written with a three-dotted Chím.]
417 (return)
[ In text "Changul," again written with a three-dotted Chím.]
418 (return)
[ In text "Al-Mazrab"
which M. Houdas translates cet endroit.]
418 (return)
[In the text "Al-Mazrab" which M. Houdas translates as this place.]
419 (return)
[ In text "Yabahh" =
saying "Bah, Bah!"]
419 (return)
[ In text "Yabahh" =
saying "Bah, Bah!"]
420 (return)
[ 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.]
420 (return)
[ In text "Bahr al-Azrak" = the Blue Sea, usually referring to the Mediterranean: the origin of this name is easily understood by anyone who has seen the Atlantic or the Black Sea.]
421 (return)
[ i.e. "The Stubborn,"
"The Obstinate."]
421 (return)
[ i.e. "The Stubborn," "The Obstinate."]
422 (return)
[ In text "Al-Jawádit,"
where M. Houdas would read "Al-Hawádith" which he renders by animaux
fraîchement tués.]
422 (return)
[ In text "Al-Jawádit," where M. Houdas interprets it as "Al-Hawádith," translating it to freshly killed animals.]
423 (return)
[ In the text "Kabad" =
the liver, the sky-vault, the handle or grasp of a bow.]
423 (return)
[ In the text "Kabad" = the liver, the expanse of the sky, the grip of a bow.]
424 (return)
[ In the text "Míná" = a
port both in old Egyptian and mod. Persian: see "Mitrahinna," vol. ii.
257.]
424 (return)
[ In the text "Míná" = a port in both ancient Egyptian and modern Persian: see "Mitrahinna," vol. ii. 257.]
425 (return)
[ "Al-Nakáír," plur. of
"Nakír" = a dinghy, a dug-out.]
425 (return)
[ "Al-Nakáír," plural of "Nakír" = a small boat, a canoe.]
426 (return)
[ For this "Pá-andáz," as
the Persians call it, see vol. iii. 141.]
426 (return)
[ For this "Pá-andáz," as the Persians call it, see vol. iii. 141.]
427 (return)
[ In text "Kataba
Zayjata-há," the word has before been noticed.]
427 (return)
[ In the text "Kataba Zayjata-há," the word has been noted before.]
428 (return)
[ Again "Hizà
bi-Zayjati-há" = le bonheur de ses aventures.]
428 (return)
[ Again "Hizà bi-Zayjati-há" = the joy of his adventures.]
429 (return)
[ 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-Hijáz, 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 "Kházúk", 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.).]
429 (return)
[ This impalement
("Salb," which elsewhere means crucifying, vol. iii. 25) might be a
brutal punishment, but it is very effective, which is ultimately its main purpose. Old Mohammed Ali of Egypt would never have been able to conquer and control the fierce Badawi of Al-Asir, the Ophir region south of Al-Hijáz, without freely using the stake. The bandits were willing to die, but they could not stand the thought of their bodies being torn apart and eaten by animals. The stake, commonly known as "Kházúk," is a thick pole sharpened at one end. The criminal is thrown onto his stomach and held down while the pointed end is inserted into his rectum. His legs and body are then tied to it, and it is gradually raised and planted in a pre-dug hole, an agonizing part of the process. If done by someone skilled who avoids damaging any vital parts, the unfortunate person may survive for three days while enduring severe thirst; however, taking a sip of water leads to bleeding and instant death. This happened to the young Muslim student who killed the esteemed Marshal Kleber in the garden of Shepherd's Hotel, Cairo, where he, by the way, paid for his patriotic crime. Death, similar to crucifixion, comes from cramps and nerve exhaustion, for which see Canon Farrar (Life of Christ, ii. 392 et seqq.).]
430 (return)
[ Archaeological Review,
July, 1888, pp. 331-342.]
430 (return)
[ Archaeological Review, July, 1888, pp. 331-342.]
431 (return)
[ The proper names are
overrun with accents and diaeretical points, of which I have here retained
but few.]
431 (return)
[The proper names are filled with accents and diacritical marks, of which I have kept only a few here.]
432 (return)
[ Particularly mentioning
Syntipas, the Forty Vizirs, a Turkish romance relating to Alexander, in
120 volumes; and Mohammed al-'Aufi.]
432 (return)
[ Specifically mentioning Syntipas, the Forty Vizirs, a Turkish romance about Alexander, in 120 volumes; and Mohammed al-'Aufi.]
433 (return)
[ Probably similar to
those described in the story of the Warlock and the Cook (anteà, pp.
106-112)]
433 (return)
[ Probably similar to those mentioned in the story of the Warlock and the Cook (see pp. 106-112)]
434 (return)
[ 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.)]
434 (return)
[The last part is very brief and unclear in the French "qu'il n'a pas son satire," but what comes next reveals the true meaning stated above. (W. F. K.)]
435 (return)
[ This I take to be the
meaning of the words, "une autre monde sous la terre par sept fois."
(W.F.K.)]
435 (return)
[ I believe this is the meaning of the phrase, "another world beneath the earth seven times." (W.F.K.)]
436 (return)
[ Galland writes "on fait
un jeu de Giret (tournoi), etc." (W. F. K.)]
436 (return)
[ Galland writes "we're playing a Giret game (tournament), etc." (W. F. K.)]
437 (return)
[ Perhaps an error of
Galland's. (W. F. K.)]
437 (return)
[ Maybe a mistake by Galland. (W. F. K.)]
438 (return)
[ I do not know the
German edition referred to.]
438 (return)
[ I'm not familiar with the German edition mentioned.]
439 (return)
[ 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).]
439 (return)
[ This wide range of stories is just as prevalent in northern Europe and Asia as it is in the south. We find these tales in Siberia, and they're particularly common in Lapland. I believe the Indian tale of the Red Swan (mentioned by Longfellow, Hiawatha xii.) is essentially a version of the Swan Maiden legend in a slightly altered form. As usual, we encounter a unique variation of the Swan Maiden tale among the Samoghitians of Lithuania. The Zemyne is a one-eyed, poisonous snake with black blood that cures all ailments and neutralizes all magic. This creature is an enchanted maiden; at times, her skin is stolen, and she has married a man. However, if she retrieves her skin, she turns back into a snake and bites and kills her husband and children. Many other peculiar stories are told about the Zemyne (Veckenstedt, Mythen, Sagen, und Legenden der Zamaiten, ii., pp. 149-152).]
440 (return)
[ About twenty pounds.]
440 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[About 20 pounds.]
441 (return)
[ Spitta Bey (p. 27 note)
suggests that this is a reminiscence of the ancient Egyptian idea of the
Scarabæus which typifies life.]
441 (return)
[ Spitta Bey (p. 27 note) suggests that this is a reference to the ancient Egyptian concept of the Scarab, which symbolizes life.]
442 (return)
[ 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.]
442 (return)
[Southey, in his tale of the Young Dragon, describes how Satan, unhappy with the quick conversion of the people of Antioch to Christianity, laid an egg and hatched a dragon to wreak havoc on them. However, a Pagan, whose Christian daughter was chosen by lot to serve the dragon, snuck a thumb from a relic (the hand of John the Baptist) while pretending to kiss it, tossed it into the dragon's mouth, and caused it to explode.]
443 (return)
[ This is a variant of
the Nose-Tree; I do not remember another in genuine Oriental literature
(cf. Nights, x., app., p. 449).)]
443 (return)
[ This is a variation of the Nose-Tree; I don't recall another one in authentic Oriental literature (cf. Nights, x., app., p. 449).]
444 (return)
[ How small the world
becomes in this story!]
444 (return)
[ How tiny the world gets in this story!]
445 (return)
[ It is evident that a
young she-bear is all that is meant.]
445 (return)
[ It's clear that a young female bear is all that's being referred to.]
446 (return)
[ 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.]
446 (return)
[ These Vigilants and Purifiers, with their hypocritical strictness that often makes the biggest sinner in private the harshest judge in public, recently had the outrageous audacity to summon a publisher who had reprinted the Decameron with the "objectionable passages" translated into French. Mr. Alderman Faudell Phillips wisely dismissed the summons with contempt. Englishmen have changed; they shouldn't put up with this disgraceful spying from so-called virtuous "Associations." If they truly want to make a difference, why do they start by condemning scholarly works instead of tackling the many filthy cesspools of active vice that are a public shame in London.]
447 (return)
[ 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 "Kánún " (ii. 77) is a reproduction from
Lane's Modern Egyptians. The various Jinnís 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 Arsinoë, 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. Azíz (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 Banú 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 "Sakhkhárah" 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 Láb (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. Khalífah 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.
447 (return)
[ It might be helpful for those interested in art at home and casual readers to highlight some of the most significant inaccuracies. The harp (i. 143) is Irish, not Eastern, yet the latter is referenced in i. 228; and the "Kánún" (ii. 77) is adapted from Lane's Modern Egyptians. The various Jinnís are imaginative creations rather than traditional figures, as they should be (see Doughty's Arabia Deserta, ii. 3, etc.). In i. 81 and ii. 622, there's an example of a bogie with a shaven chin and droopy beard and mustache: mostly, they have animal-like faces with rabbit ears, goat horns, and so on (i. 166, 169; ii. 97, 100), instead of more human-like features with vertically positioned eyes. The yew tree (i. 209) is completely out of place. In many instances, the action is exaggerated, reminiscent of illustrated works (i. 281, 356, 410, and 565; ii. 366, 374). The scimitar and knife, held in the left hand or hanging by the left side, are entirely inappropriate (i. 407 ii. 281, 374; iii. 460), and in iii. 355, the blade is wider than the user's waist. In i. 374, the astrolabe is also held in the left hand. The features are classical like those of Arsinoë, definitely not Egyptian, as seen in i. 15; i. 479 and throughout. The beggar women must not be wandering around without covering their faces or without "nose-bags" as in i. 512. The Shah (i. 523) wears modern overalls cinched down over dress boots: additionally, he carries a straight-bladed European court sword, which is accurate in i. 527. The spears (i. 531) are European, not Asiatic or Arabian, which typically have shafts measuring 12-15 feet long. Azíz (i. 537) shouldn’t be wearing tricot drawers and shoes that fit over the instep like European children's shoes: his foot (i. 540) is completely misrepresented, like his hand, and the toes appear distorted in a European style. The lady writing (i. 581) lacks any local characteristics; she should be sitting cross-legged, supporting her paper in the hollow of her left arm instead of using a portfolio, and using her right hand to hold the reed or "pen of brass." In vol. ii. 57, the lion is absurdly large, comparable to a cow or camel, and the same exaggerated depiction of the King of Beasts appears elsewhere (i. 531; ii. 557 and iii. 250). The Wazir (ii. 105) is dressed in the striped caftan of a Cairene scribe or shopkeeper. The two birds (ii. 140) meant to represent hawks (see ii. 130) have the short tails and rounded wings of pigeons. I would feel sorry for Amjad and As'ad if they were stuffed into a "bullock trunk" like the one carried by the mule in ii. 156. The Jew's daughter (ii. 185) and the Wali of Bulak (ii. 504) are holding European-style candlesticks, improved in ii. 624. The Persian leech (ii. 195) is dressed nothing like an 'Ajami, while the clothing is accurate in ii. 275. The Badawi rides (ii. 263) an impossible Arab horse with a mane and tail resembling that of depicted barbs. The street dogs (ii. 265), a distinct breed, are portrayed as lower-class European curs. The galleys' massage (ii. 305) would fit right in with a modern racing yacht. The women's costumes, like those of the Badawi maidens (ii. 335), Rose-in Hood (ii. 565), and the girl of the Banú Odhrah (iii. 250), are completely out of context, while Lady Zubaydah (ii. 369) is adorned with a European crown. The sea-going vessel (ii. 615) is a Dahabiyah suitable only for the Nile. The banana trees (ii. 621) are unrealistically depicted, towering at least 80 feet high, and the palms and coconut trees (ii. 334; iii. 60) are only indicated by their foliage, not by their distinct trunks. The box (ii. 624) is modern and European: in the Eastern "Sakhkhárah," the lid fits into the top, protecting it from damage. In iii. 76, the elephant uproots a tree that rivals a century-old English oak single-handedly. The camel saddle (iii. 247) is neither Eastern nor practical for the rider, though it does get better (iii. 424 and elsewhere). The emergence of the Merfolk (iii. 262) resembles a tableau, a transformation scene from a pantomime, and equally theatrical is the pose of wicked Queen Láb (iii. 298), while the Jinni, whisking away Daulat Khatun (iii. 341), seems to be twirling her in a horizontal position. A sunshade, not a huge Oriental umbrella, is held over the King's head (iii. 377). The tail-piece, the characteristic Sphinx (iii. 383), is drawn so poorly it’s practically a caricature. Khalífah the Fisherman wears an English nightgown (iii. 558) with the side-locks of a Polish Jew (iii. 564). The dancing girl (iii. 660) is equally flawed in form, costume, and posture, and finally, the Fellah plowing (iii. 700) should wear a felt skullcap instead of a turban, be bare from the waist up, and have only a rag around his waist.
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.]
I have carefully noted these mistakes and inconsistencies; however, I truly admire the overall quality of the work, especially the creative scenery and the architectural designs by Mr. W. Harvey. He has demonstrated how a project like this should be illustrated, and those who want to do better just need to steer clear of the minor issues mentioned here.
448 (return)
[ See in M. Zotenberg's
"Ala al-Din" the text generally; also p. 14.]
448 (return)
[ See in M. Zotenberg's "Ala al-Din" the text generally; also p. 14.]
449 (return)
[ 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 Hazár Afsán by the
learned author of the "Fihrist" (see Terminal Essay, vol. x. pp. 70). In
p. 367 (ibid.) he assumes the total at 264.]
449 (return)
[ Mr. Payne, in his
Essay, vol. ix., 281, counts fewer than two hundred stories in total, leaving out the many incidental ones; he also points out that this number matches the total of the "Night-stories" attributed to the Hazár Afsán by the knowledgeable author of the "Fihrist" (see Terminal Essay, vol. x. pp. 70). On p. 367 (ibid.), he estimates the total to be 264.]
450 (return)
[ 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:—
450 (return)
[ This troubled individual decided to attack me (completely unprovoked) in the Athenaeum of August 25, '88. Here’s his piece in full:—
Lord Stratford De Redcliffe.
Lord Stratford de Redcliffe.
August 18, 1888.
August 18, 1888.
In the notice of Sir R. Burton's "Life" in to-day's Athenæum 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."
In today’s Athenæum, there's a note about Sir R. Burton's "Life" that mentions his biographer saying that Capt. Burton wanted to lead his Bashi-bazuks to help Kars, but was stopped by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, who, according to Sir Richard, "gained a huge reputation in Europe, mainly by staying away from it."
This is a strange inversion of facts. The proposal to relieve Kars by way of Redoutkalé 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.
This is a strange twist of facts. The suggestion to support Kars through Redoutkalé and Kutais didn't come from Capt. Burton; it originated with the Turkish Seraskier, who proposed using Vivian's Turkish Contingent and part of Beatson's Horse ("his Bashi-bazuks"), where Capt. Burton had a staff position. In late June 1855, General Mansfield, who was Lord Stratford's military advisor, was in regular contact with the Turkish Ministers about this matter, and the details of the expedition were fully arranged to satisfy both British and Turkish military opinions in Constantinople. Lord Stratford officially endorsed the plan to his Government, and in his private letters to the Foreign Secretary, he strongly advocated for it and expressed a hopeful outlook for its success. However, on July 14th, Lord Clarendon sent a telegram stating: "The plan for reinforcing the army at Kars contained in your despatches of 30th June and 1st inst. is disapproved." Lord Panmure actually "frustrated" the Turkish plan; Lord Stratford never "frustrated" any efforts to assist the Army of Asia but, on the contrary, did everything he could to support the goal.
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."
As for the friendly mention of the Great Elchi's reputation, no one understands better than Sir R. Burton how strange methods can attach to reputations, but it's odd that someone with a travel background would think of Constantinople as "outside of Europe."
S. Lane-Poole.
S. Lane-Poole.
The following was my reply:—
The following was my response:—
Lord Stratford De Redcliffe and Mr. S. Lane-Poole.
Lord Stratford De Redcliffe and Mr. S. Lane-Poole.
London, Aug. 26, 1888.
London, Aug. 26, 1888.
Will you kindly spare me space for a few lines touching matters personal?
Will you please give me a moment to share a few personal thoughts?
I am again the victim (Athenæum, August 25) of that everlasting réclame. 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 once again the target (Athenæum, August 25) of that never-ending publicity. Mr. S. Lane-Poole has taken on the task of writing a biography of Lord Stratford, and as a result, he harshly criticizes me in an authoritative tone and with unnecessary rudeness, expecting me to be his "advt." In describing how, at the behest of the late General Beatson, who was then in charge of Bash-buzuk (Bashi-bazuk is what the advertiser claims), I volunteered to help Cars, how I presented the idea to the "Great Eltchee," how it was met with the roughest language, and how my initial plan was completely "frustrated." I have shared an accurate account, and nothing more. "A bizarre twisting of facts," exclaims the wise critic, with the usual charm that has earned him both respect and a lot of enemies: when his name was suggested as secretary to the R. A. S., everyone predicted the quickest end of that struggling organization.
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."
I know that Constantinople is not geographically "out of Europe." However, when Mr. S. Lane-Poole has traveled a bit more, he might realize that it is ethnologically. In fact, most of South-Eastern Europe considers itself somewhat non-European, and when a Montenegrin marries a French woman or a German woman, his family will tell you that he has married 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 mouillées have reprinted and republished Lane's "Arabian Notes" without having the simple honesty to correct a single bévue, 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.
"No one knows better than Sir R. Burton how strange the ways of gaining a reputation can be." Wow, what English! What could the man possibly mean? But maybe he’s referring in his own foolish, tasteless, mocking way to my *Thousand Nights and a Night,* which has demonstrated what the “Uncle and Master’s” work should have been. For about two generations, a bunch of timid people have reprinted and published Lane's *Arabian Notes* without having the basic decency to fix a single mistake or correct any errors; meanwhile, they treated the Arabian Nights as their own personal rotten borough. But I’ll talk more about this in my essay, "The Reviewer Reviewed," which will be printed as an appendix to my Supplemental Volume, No. vi.
Richard F. Burton.
Richard F. Burton.
And here is the rejoinder (Athenæum, September 8):—
And here is the response (Athenæum, September 8):—
Lord Stratford and Sir R. Burton.
Lord Stratford and Sir R. Burton.
September 4, 1888.
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 Athenæum 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.
Sir R. Burton, much like a well-known Irish politician, seems to want to choose his own setting. In response to my letter in the Athenæum from August 25, he allows himself to use flowery language in the Academy on September 1 that only hurts his own credibility. Without getting personal, I notice that he doesn’t provide any facts to back up the claims I disputed; he just repeats them. It's really a matter of documents versus Sir R. Burton's word.
S. Lane-Poole.
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.]
It’s not a matter of documents versus my word, but about how the "biographer" uses or misuses documents. Everyone in the camp at the Dardanelles knew about my volunteering for the relief of Kars, and my visit to the Embassy in Constantinople is also supported by “documents.” When Mr. S. Lane-Poole presents his, I will present mine.
451 (return)
[ 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.]
451 (return)
[ It seems to me that our efforts, both corrective and punitive, against "pornographic publications" mostly end up creating "vested interests" (that awful English term) and thus promote the very work we're trying to suppress. The French printer, who now has to provide his name and address, stamps on 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 on the back the number of copies for sale. We handle "pornology" the same way we deal with prostitution, foolishly ignoring it, even though we know it's a natural and universal demand of civilized humanity; while continental countries regulate it and limit its abuses, we look the other way, acting superior. Our laws on the matter are only made to be broken, and the authorities are reluctant to take action because doing so would only highlight what they condemn. This encourages greedy and unscrupulous publishers and significantly increases the value of works (like "Fanny Hill" by Richard Cleland) that, if published freely, would sell for a few cents instead of pounds. With all due respect, I suggest that the police be instructed to remove from booksellers' windows and confiscate all indecent images, prints, and photographs; I would prohibit them under heavy fines from selling immoral books and would leave "cheap and nasty" literature up to the taste of the publisher and the public. This way, we could also reduce the scandal of providing the secretaries and officers of various anti-vice societies with libraries of pornographic works that, although meant to be destroyed or discarded, end up in the hands of those who are supposed to get rid of them.]
452 (return)
[ "Quand aux manuscrits
de la rédaction égyptienne, l'omission de cet épisode parait devoir être
attribuée à la tendance qui les caractérise géneralement, d'abréger et de
condenser la narrative " (loc. cit. p. 7: see also p. 14).]
452 (return)
[ "As for the manuscripts of the Egyptian version, the omission of this episode seems to be due to their general tendency to shorten and condense the narrative" (loc. cit. p. 7: see also p. 14).]
453 (return)
[ 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 Bibliothèque 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.
453 (return)
[ I definitely don’t mean to say that the topics covered in The Nights are fully explored: there’s still plenty left for future researchers. It would actually be quite easy to add another five volumes to my sixteen since every complete manuscript has some new material. Dr. Pertsch, the knowledgeable librarian of Saxe-Gotha, tells me that at least two volumes are dedicated to a variation of Judar the Egyptian (in my vol. vi. 213) and the History of Zahir and Ali. For the Turkish version in the Bibliothèque Nationale, see M. Zotenberg (pp. 21-23). The Rich MS. in the British Museum is rich in new content, of which a sample was included in my Prospectus to the Supplemental Volumes.
In the French Scholar's "Alâ al-Dîn" (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'umán. The third group, also Egyptian, differs only in the distribution of the stories.]
In the French Scholar's "Alâ al-Dîn" (p. 45), we find that the manuscripts of The Nights are divided into three groups. The first group, or the Asian group (which includes a total of ten specified), is mostly incomplete and typically ends before reaching the halfway point of the text. The second group is the modern Egyptian version, characterized by a unique style, concise narration, and the arrangement of the tales, as well as the number of fables and short stories, and generally includes the lengthy chivalrous romance of Omar bin al-Nu'umán. The third group, also Egyptian, only differs in how the stories are arranged.
454 (return)
[ 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.]
454 (return)
[ My late friend, who brought back 3,000 copies of inscriptions from what we now call the Sinai, which I would have referred to in ancient times as the Peninsula of Paran.]
456 (return)
[ M. Zotenberg (p. 5)
wrote la seconde moitie du xive. Siècle, but he informed me that he has
found reason to antedate the text.]
456 (return)
[ M. Zotenberg (p. 5) wrote the second half of the 14th century, but he informed me that he has found reasons to date the text earlier.]
457 (return)
[ 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.]
457 (return)
[ I regret having to point out such incompetence and mistakes that were pretty forgivable at the time Lane wrote them; however, his naive friend, through clumsy and over-the-top claims and praises, forces me to present the situation to the reader.]
458 (return)
[ This past tense,
suggesting that an act is complete, has a present sense in Arabic and must
be translated accordingly.]
458 (return)
[ This past tense, suggesting that an action is complete, carries a current meaning in Arabic and must be translated accordingly.]
459 (return)
[ 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"]
459 (return)
[ Completely false: the critic, as usual, never bothered to read or likely even see the subject of his criticism. In this case, I can flip one of my sayings and say, "To the ugly, everything goes." ]
Download ePUB
If you like this ebook, consider a donation!