The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night—Volume 06 [Supplement]
Author: Unknown
Date: 2021-01-25T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fairy tales; Tales -- Arab countries

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Title: The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night—Volume 06 [Supplement]

Translator: Sir Richard Francis Burton

Release date: January 25, 2021 [eBook #64384]

Language: English

Credits: Richard Tonsing, Richard Hulse, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT—VOLUME 06 [SUPPLEMENT] ***

Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

“TO THE PURE ALL THINGS ARE PURE.”

(Puris omnia pura)

—Arab Proverb.

“Niuna corrotta mente intese mai sanamente parole.”

—“Decameron”—conclusion.

“Erubuit, posuitque meum Lucretia librum

Sed coram Bruto. Brute! recede, leget.”

—Martial.

“Mieulx est de ris que de larmes escripre,

Pour ce que rire est le propre des hommes.”

—Rabelais.

“The pleasure we derive from perusing the Thousand-and-One Stories makes us regret that we possess only a comparatively small part of these truly enchanting fictions.”

—Crichton’s “History of Arabia.”

upplemental
ights
TO THE BOOK OF THE
Thousand Nights and a Night
WITH NOTES ANTHROPOLOGICAL AND EXPLANATORY
VOLUME VI.

BY

RICHARD F. BURTON

PRINTED BY THE BURTON CLUB FOR PRIVATE SUBSCRIBERS ONLY

Shammar Edition

Limited to one thousand numbered sets, of which this is

Number 547

Printed in U. S. A.

CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH VOLUME

| | | PAGE
1. | THE SAY OF HAYKAR THE SAGE | 1
2. | THE HISTORY OF AL-BUNDUKANI OR THE CALIPH HARUN AL-RASHID AND THE DAUGHTER OF KING KISRA | 39
3. | THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA AND THE KING’S SON | 87
| | Note to the Linguist-Dame | 112
4. | THE TALE OF THE WARLOCK AND THE YOUNG COOK OF BAGHDAD | 119
5. | THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF THE COCK AND THE FOX | 143
6. | HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL WITH THE FOWLER | 151
7. | THE TALE OF ATTAF | 165
| | The Tale of Attaf by Alexander J. Cotheal | 197
8. | HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH THE LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS | 223
Appendix I.
INDEX TO THE TALES AND PROPER NAMES | 277
Appendix II.
ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF THE NOTES (ANTHROPOLOGICAL, &c.) | 289
Appendix III.
NOTES ON THE STORIES CONTAINED IN VOL. VI. OF SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS. By W. F. Kirby | 351
Appendix IV.
ADDITIONAL NOTES ON THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS. By W. F. Kirby | 356
THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK AND ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED | 385
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS | 455

THE TRANSLATOR’S FOREWORD.

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

The original MS. was brought to France by Al-Káhin Diyúnisiús Sháwísh, a Syrian priest of the Congregation of St. Basil, whose name has been Frenchified to Don 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 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 copy breaks off at folio 320, ro 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.

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-huitième-(quarante-unième). | À Genève, | chez Bárde, Manget et Compagnie, | Imprimeurs-Libraires. | Et se trouve à Paris | Rue et Hôtel Serpente. | 1788–89, 8o[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 12 belles gravures. | Tome premier (—quatrième) | à Genève, | chez Barde, Manget et Compe | 1793. This 8vo.[2] bears the abridged title, La Suite des mille et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, traduits par Dom Chavis et M. Cazotte. The work was printed with illustrations at Geneva and in Paris, MDCCLXXXVIII., and formed the last four volumes (xxxviii.–xli.) of the great Recueil, the Cabinet des Fées, published at Geneva from A.D. 1788 to 1793.

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

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 (Shahbandar = 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-Maghrabi = the Moor); or, the Magician.

29.

History of Halaiaddin (’Alà 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.

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. 476), quite agrees with him that Chavis and Cazotte’s Continuation is well worthy of republication in its entirety. It remained for the Edinburgh Review, in one of those ignorant and scurrilous articles with which it periodically outrages truth and good taste (No. 535, July, 1886), to state, “Cazotte published his Suite des Mille et une Nuits, a barefaced forgery, in 1785.” A barefaced forgery! when the original of twenty-eight tales out of thirty-four are perfectly well known, and when sundry of these appear in MSS. of “The Thousand Nights and a Night.”

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

VOLUME VIII.

Les | Mille et une Nuits, | Contes Arabes, | Traduits en Français | 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 huitième. | à Paris, | chez Le Normant, Imp.-Libraire, | 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. 117.)

2.

Le Bimaristan, ou histoire du jeune Marchand de Bagdad et de la dame inconnue.

3.

Le médecin 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 marchand imprudent et de ses deux enfants.

8.

Histoire d’ Abousaber, ou de l’homme patient.

9.

Histoire du prince Behezad.

10.

Histoire du roi Dadbin, ou de la vertueuse Aroua.

11.

Histoire du roi Bakhtzeman.

12.

Histoire du roi Khadidan.

13.

Histoire du roi Beherkerd.

14.

Histoire du roi Ilanschah et d’Abouteman.

15.

Histoire du roi Ibrahim et de son fils.

16.

Histoire du Soleïman-schah.

17.

Histoire de l’esclave sauvé du supplice.

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 génie Alatrous, et Dorrat Algoase.

(Gauttier, vii. 64.)

21.

Histoire de Naama et de Naam.

22.

Histoire d’Alaeddin.

23.

Histoire d’Abou Mohammed Alkeslan.

24.

Histoire d’Aly Mohammed le joaillier, ou du faux calife.

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

By an error of the late M. Reinaud (for which see p. 39 Histoire d’ ’Alâ al-Dîn by M. H. Zotenberg, Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, MDCCCLXXXVIII,) the MS. Supplément Arabe, No. 1716, 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. 17, 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 20½ long by 16 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 15 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 XVIIIe 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 verso, e.g.,

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:—

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 Bímáristán 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. 49. 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.

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

Al-Bundukani, or the Robber Caliph;
The Power of Destiny (Attaf the Syrian);
Ali Chelebi, or the Bimaristan;
King Sankharib and the Sage Haykar;

Bohetzad (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 Commère Il faut chauffer le lit. These scherzi, however, brought him more note than profit, and soon afterwards he returned to Martinique.

During his second term of service Cazotte wrote his heroic-comic poem, the Roman d’Olivier, in twelve cantos, afterwards printed in Paris (2 vols. 8vo, 1765); and it was held a novel and singular composition. When the English first attacked (in 1759) Saint Pierre of Martinique, afterwards captured by Rodney in 1762, the sprightly 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.

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 youthtide an ardent Christian; he made the Gospel his rule of life; and he sturdily defended his religious opinions; he had also the moral courage to enter the lists with M. de Voltaire, then the idol-in-chief of the classes and the masses.

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

Cazotte, after a well-spent and honourable life, had reason to expect with calmness “the evening and ending of a fine day.” But this was not to be, the Great Revolution had burst like a hurricane over the land, and he was doomed to die a hero’s death. His character was too candid, and his disposition too honest, for times which suggested concealment. He had become one of the Illuminati, and La Harpe ascribed to him the celebrated prophecy which described the minutest events of the Great Revolution. A Royalist pur sang, he freely expressed his sentiments to his old friend Ponteau, then Secretary of the Civil List. His letters came to light shortly after the terrible day, August 10, 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.

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 with his confessor, wrote to his wife and children, praying his family not to beweep him, not to forget him, and never to offend against their God; and this missive, with a lock of his hair for his beloved daughter, he finally entrusted to the ghostly father. Upon the scaffold he turned to the crowd and cried, “I die as I have lived, truthful and faithful to my God and my King.” His venerable head, crowned with the white honours of age, fell on Sept. 25, 1792.

Cazotte printed many works, some of great length, as the Œuvres 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.

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 (for whom, see Appendix, p. 10, Suppl. vol. iii.) kindly consented to copy the excerpts required, and to explain the words and phrases which a deficiency of dictionaries and vocabularies at an outlandish port-town rendered unintelligible to me.

In translating a MS., which has never been collated or corrected and which abounds in errors of omission and commission, I have been guided by one consideration only, which is, that my first and chiefest duty to the reader is to make my book readable at the same time that it lays before him the whole matter which the text offered or ought to have offered. Hence I have not hesitated when necessary to change the order of the sentences, to delete tautological words and phrases, to suppress descriptions which are needlessly re-iterated, 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.

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 undertook to translate it for my collection upon my distinct assurance that its many novelties of treatment deserved an especial version. Mr. W. F. Kirby has again conferred upon my readers an important service by his storiological notes. Lastly, Dr. Steingass has lent me, as before, his valuable aid in concluding as he did in commencing this series, and on putting the colophon to

The Sixteenth Volume
OF
THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT.

RICHARD F. BURTON.

United Service Club,

August 1st, 1888.

I INSCRIBE THIS FINAL VOLUME
TO
THE MANY EXCELLENT FRIENDS

WHO LENT ME THEIR VALUABLE AID IN COPYING AND ANNOTATING

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 indite the Story of Haykar the Sage, the Philosopher, the Wazir of Sankharib[7] the Sovran, and of the son of the wise man’s sister Nadan[8] the Fool.

They relate that during the days of Sankháríb the King, lord of Asúr[9] 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 Allah[11] and confided his secret unto Him and called for succour in the burning of his heart, and cried with a loud voice saying “O God of Heaven and Earth, O Creator of all creatures, I beg Thee to vouchsafe unto me a son wherewith I may console my old age and who may become my heir, after being present at my death and closing my eyes and burying my body.” Hereat came a Voice from Heaven which said, “Inasmuch as at first thou trustedst in graven images and offeredst to them victims, so shalt thou remain childless, lacking sons and daughters. However, get thee up and take to thee 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 escarlate[12] 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 Cedar[14] of Lebanon, his uncle taught him deportment and writing and reading[15] and philosophy and the omne scibile. Now after a few days Sankharib the King looked upon Haykar and saw how that he had waxed an old old man, so quoth he to him, “Ho thou excellent companion,[16] the generous, the ingenious, the judicious, the sagacious, the Sage, my Secretary and my Minister and the Concealer of my secrets and the Councillor of my kingdom, seeing how so it be that thou art aged and well shotten in years and nigh unto thy death and decease, so tell me[17] who shall stand in my service after thy demise?” Made answer Haykar, “O my lord the King, may thy head live for ever and aye! that same shall be this Nadan, son to my sister, whom I have taken to myself as mine own child and have reared him and have taught him my learning and my experience, all thereof.” “Bring him to the presence,” quoth the King, “and set him between my hands, that I look upon him; and, if I find him fitting, I will stablish him in thy stead. Then do thou wend thy ways and off-go from office that thou take thy rest and tend thine old age, living the lave of thy life in the fairest of honour.” Hereupon Haykar hied him home and carried his nephew Nadan before the King, who considered him and was pleased with the highmost of pleasure and, rejoicing in him, presently asked the uncle, “Be this thine adopted son, O Haykar? I pray Allah preserve him; and, even as thou servedst my sire Sarhádún[18] before me, even so shall this thy son do me suite and service and fulfil my affairs and my needs and my works, to the end that I may honour him and advance him for the sake of thee.” Thereat Haykar prostrated himself before the presence and said, “May thy head live, O my lord, for evermore! I desire of thee to extend the wings of thy spirit over him for that he is my son, and do thou be clement to his errings, so that he may serve thee as besitteth.” The King forthwith made oath that he would stablish the youth amongst the highmost of his friends and the most worshipful of his familiars and that he should abide with him in all respect and reverence. So Haykar kissed the royal hands and blessed his lord; then, taking with him Nadan his nephew, he seated him in privacy and fell to teaching him by night as well as by day, that he might fill him with wisdom and learning rather than with meat and drink; and he would address him in these terms.[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 coal[21] to burn up thy tongue and breed pain in thy body and clothe thee in shame and gar thee despised of God and man. O dear my son, an thou hear a report reveal it not, and if thou behold a thing relate it not. O dear my son, make easy thine address unto thine hearers, and be not hasty in return of reply. O dear my son, desire not formal beauty which fadeth and vadeth while fair report endureth unto infinity. O dear my son, be not deceived by a woman immodest of speech lest her snares waylay thee[22] and in her springes thou become a prey and thou die by ignominious death. O dear my son, hanker not after a woman adulterated by art, such as clothes and cosmetics, who is of nature bold and immodest, and beware lest thou obey her and give her aught that is not thine and entrust to her even that which is in thy hand, for she will robe thee in sin and Allah shall become wroth with thee. O dear my son, be not like unto the almond-tree[23] which leafeth earlier than every growth and withal is ever of the latest to fruit; but strive to resemble the mulberry-tree which beareth food the first of all growths and is the last of any to put forth her foliage.[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 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 villany 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 seised. Also bidding and forbiddal were left in the youth’s hand and he was promoted and preferred by the monarch like his maternal uncle and even more, whilst the ex-Wazir took his rest in retirement, nor was it his habit to visit the King save once after a while, when he would fare forth to salute him with the salam and forthwith return home. But when Nadan made sure of all commandment being in his own hand, he jeered in public at his uncle and raised his nose at him and fell to blaming him whenever he made act of presence and would say, “Verily Haykar is in age and dotage and no more he wotteth one thing from other thing.” Furthermore he fell to beating the negro slaves and the handmaidens, and to vending the steeds and dromedaries and applied him wilfully to waste all that appertained to his uncle who, when he saw this lack of ruth for the chattels and the household, incontinently drove him ignominiously from his place. Moreover he sent to apprize the King thereof; to wit, that he would assuredly[30] resume all his belongings and provision; and his liege, summoning Nadan, said to him, “So long as Haykar shall be in life, let none lord it over his household or meddle with his fortune.” On this wise the youth’s hand was stayed from his uncle and from all his good and he ceased to go in to him and come out from him, and even to accost him with the salam. Presently Haykar repented of the pains and the trouble he had taken with Nadan and he became perplext exceedingly. Now the youth had a younger brother, Naudan[31] hight, so Haykar adopted him in lieu of the other and tendered him and honoured him with highmost honour and committed to him all his possessions and created him comptroller of his household and of his affairs. But when the elder brother beheld what had betided him, he was seized with envy and jealousy and he fell to complaining before all who questioned him, deriding his benefactor; and he would say, “Verily my maternal uncle hath driven me from his doors and hath preferred my brother before me; but, an Almighty Allah empower me, I will indeed cast him into doom of death.” Hereat he fell to brooding over the ruin of his relative, and after a long while he went, one day of the days, and wrote a letter to Akhyash 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 Eglantine[33] of Assyria and Niniveh, that I may commit to thee the kingdom sans fight or fray.” Furthermore he wrote a second letter in Haykar’s name to Pharaoh,[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-day[37] at the Buk’at Nisrin. Moreover, when thou see me approach thee make thy many prepare for mimic onset as they were my adversaries and offer me sham fight; for that messengers from Pharaoh, King of Egypt, have been sent to espy the strength of our armies. Accordingly, let them stand in fear of us, for that they be our foes and our haters.” Presently, sealing this epistle, he sent it to Haykar by one of the royal pages and himself carrying the other letters he had addressed to the Persian and the Egyptian, he laid them before the King and read them aloud and showed their seals. But when Sankharib heard their contents he marvelled with mighty great marvel and raged with exceeding rage and cried out, saying, “What is it I have done unto Haykar that he should write such a writ to mine adversaries? Is this my reward for all the benefits I have lavished upon Haykar?” The other replied, “Be not grieved, O King, and sorrow not, nor be thou an-angered: rather let us fare on the morrow to the Buk’at Nisrin and look into the matter, whether it be fact or falsehood.” So when Thursday came, Nadan arose, and taking the King and his Wazirs and army-officers marched them over the wastes to the Lowland of the Eglantine, and arrived there Sankharib, the Sovran, looked upon Haykar and saw his host aligned in battle against himself. And when the ex-Minister beheld his King approaching, he bade his host stir for battle and prepare to smite the opposing ranks; to wit, those of his liege lord, even as he had been commanded by royal rescript, nor did he ken what manner of pit had been digged for him by Nadan. But seeing this sight the monarch was agitated and consterned and raged with mighty great wrath. Then quoth Nadan, “Seest thou, O King, what this sorry fellow hath done? But chafe not, neither be thou sorrowful, but rather do thou retire to thy palace, whither I will presently bring to thee Haykar pinioned and bearing chains; and I will readily and without trouble fend off from thee thy foe.” So when Sankharib hied him home in sore anger with that which his ancient Minister had done, Nadan went to his uncle and said, “Indeed the King hath rejoiced with exceeding joy, and thanketh thee for acting as he bade thee, and now he hath despatched me to order that thy men be bidden to wend their ways, and that thou present thyself before him pinioned and fettered to the end that thou be seen in such plight of the envoys sent by Pharaoh concerning whom and whose master our Monarch standeth in fear.” “To hear is to obey!” replied Haykar, and forthwith let pinion his arms and fetter his legs; then, taking with him Nadan, his nephew, he repaired to the presence, where he found the King perusing the other forged letter also sealed with the ministerial signet. When he entered the throne-room he prostrated himself, falling to the ground upon his face, and the Sovran said to him “O Haykar, my Viceregent and Secretary and Concealer of my secret and Councillor of my kingdom, say me, what have I wrought thee of wrong that thou shouldst requite me with such hideous deed?” So saying he showed him the two papers written in the handwriting and sealed with the seal of the accused who, when he looked upon them, trembled in every limb, and his tongue was knotted for a while, nor could he find power to speak a word, and he was reft of all his reason and of his knowledge. Wherefor he bowed his brow groundwards and held his peace. But when the King beheld this his condition, he bade them slay him by smiting his neck without the city, and Nadan cried aloud, “O Haykar, O blackavice, what could have profited thee such trick and treason that thou do a deed like this by thy King?”[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, Shaghaftíní[42] hight, adding, “Do thou forthright come forth to meet me escorted by a thousand maiden girls, whom thou shalt habit in escarlate and sendal, that they may keen over me ere I perish; moreover dispread for the Headsman and his varlets a table of food and bring an abundance of good wine that they may drink and make merry.”[43] Haykar’s wife presently obeyed his orders for she also was ware and wise, sharp-witted, experienced and a compendium of accomplishments and knowledge. Now when the guards[44] and the Sworder and his varlets came to Haykar’s door, they found the tables laid out with wine and sumptuous viands; so they fell to eating and drinking till they had their sufficiency and returned thanks to the housemaster.[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, keened[50] for him aloud and shed tears and said, “Alas for thee, O Haykar, and alack for the loss of thy lore and thy knowledge! Woe be to us for thee and for thy experience! Where now remaineth to find thy like? where now shall one intelligent, understanding and righteous of rede resemble thee and stand in thy stead?” Presently the King fell to regretting the fate of Haykar whereof repentance availed him naught: so he summoned Nadan and said to him, “Fare forth and take with thee all thy friends to keen and make ceremonious wailings for thy maternal uncle Haykar and mourn, according to custom, in honour of him and his memory.” But Nadan, the fool, the ignorant, the hard of heart, going forth the presence to show sorrow at his uncle’s house, would neither mourn nor weep nor keen; nay, in lieu thereof he gathered together lewd fellows and fornicators who fell to feasting and carousing. After this he took to himself the concubines and slaves belonging to his uncle, whom he would scourge and bastinado with painful beating; nor had he any shame before the wife of his adopted father who had entreated him as her son; but solicited her sinfully to lie with him. On the other hand Haykar, who lay perdu in his Silo, ever praised Allah the Compassionate,[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 congratulation and veneration complete wherewith I fain distinguish my beloved brother Sankharib the King, I would have thee know that I am about to build a bower in the air between firmament and terra firma; and I desire thee on thy part to send me a man which is wise, a tried and an experienced, that he may help me to edify the same: also that he make answer to all the problems and profound questions I shall propose, otherwise thou shalt deposit with me the taxes in kind[52] of Assyria and Nineveh and their money-tributes for three years.” Then he made an end of his writ and, sealing it with his signet-ring, sent it to its destination. But when the missive reached Sankharib, he took it and read it, he and his Wazirs and the Lords of his land; and all stood perplext thereat and sore confounded; whilst the King waxed furious with excessive fury, and he was distraught as to what he should do and how he should act. Anon, however, he gathered together all the Shaykhs and Elders and the Olema and doctors of law and the physicists and philosophers and the charmers[53] and the astrologers and all such persons which were in his realm, and he let read the epistle of Pharaoh in their presence. Then he asked them, saying, “Who amongst you shall repair to the court of Pharaoh, lord of Misraim, and reply to his interrogations?” But they cried, “O our lord the King, do thou know there be no one who can loose the knot of these difficulties save only thy Wazir Haykar; and now that none shall offer an answer save Nadan, the son of his sister, whom he hath informed with all his subtilty and his science. Therefore, do thou summon him and haply he shall unravel for thee a tangled skein so hard to untwist.” Sankharib did as they advised, and when Nadan appeared in the presence said to him, “Look thou upon this writ and comprehend its contents.” But when the youth read it he said to the Sovran, “O my lord the King, leave alone this folk for they point to impossibilities: what man can base a bower upon air between heaven and earth?” As soon as King Sankharib heard these words of Nadan, he cried out with a mighty outcry and a violent; then, stepping down from his throne, he sat upon ashes[54] and fell to beweeping and bewailing the loss of Haykar and crying, “Alas, for me and woe worth the day for thee, O Caretaker of my capital and Councillor of my kingdom! Where shall I find one like unto thee, O Haykar? Harrow now for me, O Haykar, Oh Saviour of my secret and Manifester of my moot-points, where now shall I fare to find thee? Woe is me for sake of thee whom I slew and destroyed at the word of a silly boy! To him indeed who could bring Haykar before me or who could give me the glad tidings of Haykar being on life, I would give the half of my good; nay, the moiety of my realm. But whence can this come? Ah me, O Haykar; happy was he who looked upon thee in life that he might take his sufficiency of thy semblance and fortify himself[55] therefrom. Oh my sorrow for thee to all time! Oh my regret and remorse for thee and for slaying thee in haste and for not delaying thy death till I had considered the consequence of such misdeed.” And the King persisted in weeping and wailing night and day on such wise. But when the Sworder[56] beheld the passion of his lord and his yearning and his calling upon Haykar, he came to the presence and prostrated himself and said, “O my lord, bid thy varlets strike off my head!” Quoth the Monarch, “Woe to thee, what be thy sin?” and quoth the Headsman, “O my lord, what slave ever contrarieth the command of his master let the same be slain, and I verily have broken thy behest.” The King continued, “Fie upon thee,[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 unbeknown 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’álà—God Almighty be glorified!” and right happy were his household and his friends and all who learned that he was still on life. Then did he as the King had bidden him and enjoyed 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 mud[61] and slaked lime that we may build a bower for King Pharaoh, inasmuch as we now stand here all the day idle!” And Haykar ceased not to accustom them and to instruct them until they became dexterous in such doings as they could be. Then he quitted them and presenting himself before King Sankharib said, “O my lord, the work is completed even as thou couldst desire; but do thou arise and come with me that I may show thee the marvel.” Thereupon the King and his courtiers accompanied Haykar to a wide open space outside the city whither he sent for the vultures and the lads; and after binding the cords he loosed them to soar as high as the lanyards allowed in the firmament-plain, when they fell to outcrying as he had taught them. And lastly he haled them in and restored them to their steads. Hereat the King wondered, as did all his suite, with extreme wonderment, and kissing his Minister between his eyes, robed him in an honourable robe and said to him, “Go forth in safety, O my beloved, and boast of my realm, to the land of Egypt[62] and answer the propositions of Pharaoh and master him by the power of Almighty Allah;” and with these words farewelled him. Accordingly Haykar took his troops and guards, together with the lads and the vultures, and he fared forth intending for Egypt where on arrival he at once made for the royal Palace. And when the folk of the capital understood that Sankharib the King had commissioned a man of his notables to bespeak their Sovran the Pharaoh, they entered and apprized their liege lord who sent a party of his familiars summoning him to the presence. Presently Haykar the Sage entered unto Pharaoh; and after prostration as befitteth before royalty said, “O my lord, Sankharib the King greeteth thee with many salutations and salams; and hath sent me single-handed 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 send 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 astound the strongling.” Hereat Pharaoh gave orders to set apart for Abikam his guest an apartment, also for the guards and all that were with him and provide them with rations and fodder of meat and drink, and whatso was appropriate to their reception as properest might be. And after the usual three days of guest-rite[64] the King of Egypt donned his robes of brightest escarlate; and, having taken seat upon his throne, each and every Grandee and Wazir (who were habited in the same hue) standing with crossed arms and feet joined,[65] he sent a summons to produce before him Haykar, now Abikam hight. Accordingly he entered and prostrated in the King’s presence and stood up to receive the royal behest, when Pharaoh after a long delay asked him, “O Abikam, whom do I resemble and what may these my Lords and Ministers represent?” Hereto the envoy answered saying, “O my lord, thou favourest Bel the idol[66] and thy chieftains 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 to-morrow 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 chamomile[68] and his bloom.” Hearing these words Pharaoh rejoiced with extreme joy and said, “O Abikam, thou hast compared me first with Bel the idol, secondly with the sun and thirdly with the moon and lastly with the auspicious month Naysan, and my lords with the chamomile and his flower. But say me now unto what likenest thou Sankharib thy lord, and what favour his Grandees?” Haykar made answer, “Heaven forfend I mention my liege lord the while thou sittest on thy throne; but rise to thy feet, and I will inform thee what my Master representeth and what his court most resembleth.” Pharaoh, struck with astonishment at such heat of tongue and valiancy of speech, arose from his seat and stood facing Haykar and presently said, “Now tell me that I may learn what thy lord resembleth and what his Grandees represent.” The other made reply, “My lord resembleth the God of Heaven, and his lords represent the Lightning and Thunder. An it be his will the winds do blow and the rains do fall; and, when he deign order, the leven playeth and the thunder roareth and at his behest the sun would refuse light and the moon and stars stand still in their several courses. But he may also command the storm-wind to arise and downpours to deluge when Naysan would be as one who beateth the bough[69] and who scattereth abroad the blooms of the chamomile.” Pharaoh hearing these words wondered with extreme wonderment, then raging with excessive rage he cried, “O man, tell me the real truth and let me know who thou art in very sooth.” “I am Haykar,” quoth the other, “Chief Secretary and especial to Sankharib the King; also his Wazir and Councillor of his kingdom and Keeper of his secret.” “Thou statest fact, O Sage,” quoth Pharaoh, “and this thy say is veridical: yet have we heard that Haykar is dead indeed, withal here art thou alive and alert.” The Minister replied, “Yea, verily that was the case, but Alhamdolillah—Glory to God, who knoweth all hidden things, my master had in very deed doomed me die believing the reports of certain traitors, but my Lord preserved me and well done to him who relieth upon the Almighty!” Then quoth Pharaoh, “Go forth and on the morrow do thou return hither and say me somewhat no man hath ever heard, nor I nor my Grandees nor any of the folk in my kingdom and my capital.” Accordingly Haykar hied him home and penned a paper wherein he said as follows: “From Sankharib, King of Assyria and Naynawah, to Pharaoh King of Misraim:—Peace be upon thee, O my brother! As well thou wottest, brother needeth brother and the Kings require the aidance of other Kings and my hope from thee is that thou wilt lend[70] me the loan of nine hundred-weight[71] of gold which I require to expend on the pay and allowances due to certain of my soldiery wherewith to provide for them the necessaries of life.” After this he folded the writ and despatched it by a messenger on the next day to Pharaoh, who perused it and was perplext and exclaimed, “Verily and indeed never till now have I heard a saying like unto this at all, nor hath anyone ever spoken[72] to me after such fashion!” Haykar replied, “’Tis fact, and ’tis well an thou own thee debtor of such sum to my lord the King.” Pharaoh accepted this resolving of his proposition and said, “O Haykar, ’tis the like of thee who suiteth the service of the Kings, and blessed be Allah who perfected thee in wisdom and adorned thee with philosophy[73] and knowledge. And now remaineth to us only one need of thee; to wit, that thou build us a bower between firmament and terra firma.” Haykar replied, “Hearkening and obeying! I will edify it for thee e’en as thou wishest and thou choosest; but do thou get ready for me gypsum lime and ashlar-stone and brick-clay and handicraftsmen, while I also bring architects and master masons and they shall erect for thee whatso thou requirest.” So King Pharaoh gat ready all this and fared forth with his folk to a spacious plain without the city whither Haykar and his pages had carried the boys and the vultures; and with the Sovran went all the great men of his kingdom and his host in full tale that they might look upon the wonder which the Envoy of Assyria was about to work. But when they reached the place appointed, Haykar brought out of their boxes the vultures and making fast the lads to their backs bound the cords to the legs of the birds and let them loose, when they soared firmament-wards till they were poised between heaven and earth. Hereat the lads fell to crying aloud, “Send up to us the stones and the mud and the slaked lime that we may build a bower for King Pharaoh, forasmuch as here we stand the whole day idle.” At this were agitated all present, and they marvelled and became perplext; and not less wondered the King and the Grandees his lieges, while Haykar and his pages fell to buffeting the handicraftsmen and to shouting at the royal guards, saying, “Provide the workmen with that they want, nor hinder them from their work!” Whereupon cried Pharaoh, “O Haykar, art thou Jinn-mad? Who is ever able to convey aught of these matters to so far a height?” But he replied to the King, “O my lord, how shall we build a bower in the lift on other wise? And were the King my master here he would have edified two such edifices in a single day.” Hearing this quoth Pharaoh to him, “Hie thee, O Haykar, to thy quarters, and for the present take thy rest, seeing that we have been admonished anent the building of the bower; but come thou to me on the morrow.” Accordingly, Haykar fared to his lodging, and betimes on the next day presented himself before Pharaoh, who said to him, “O Haykar, what of the stallion of thy lord which, when he neigheth in Assyria and Nineveh, his voice is heard by our mares in this place so that they miscarry?[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 home[78] and bound his hands in bonds and fettered his feet with heavy chains; then he beat him with a severe bastinado and a torturing upon his soles and calves, his back, his belly and his armpits; after which bashing he cast him into a black hole adjoining the jakes. He also made Binuhal guardian over him and bade him be supplied day by day with a scone of bread and a little water; and whenever the uncle went in to or came forth from the nephew he would revile Nadan and of his wisdom would say to him, “O dear my son, I wrought with thee all manner of good and kindly works and thou didst return me therefor evil and treason and death. O dear my son, ’tis said in saws:—Whoso heareth not through his ears, through the nape of his neck shall he hear.”[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 sting[81] upon brass would pierce it. O dear my son, thou hast resembled the Sajálmah-bird[82] when netted in net who, when she cannot save herself alive, she prayeth the partridges to cast themselves into perdition with her. O dear my son, thou hast been as the cur who, when suffering cold entereth the potter’s house to warm himself at the kiln, and when warmed barketh at the folk on such wise that they must beat him and cast him out, lest after barking he bite them. O dear my son, thou hast done even as the hog who entered the Hammam in company with the great; but after coming out he saw a stinking fosse a-flowing[83] and went and therein wallowed. O dear my son, thou hast become like the old and rank he-goat who when he goeth in leadeth his friends and familiars to the slaughter-house and cannot by any means come off safe or with his own life or with their lives. O dear my son, a hand which worketh not neither plougheth, and withal is greedy and over-nimble shall be cut off from its armpit. O dear my son, thou hast imitated the tree whom men hew down, head and branch, when she said:—Had not that in your hands been of me,[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 amiddlemost 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.

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 invite, 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]

It is related (but Allah is all-knowing of His secrets and allkenning 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 breasts[93] and issued forth to circle about the thoroughfares 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, arras[97] and curtains and all necessaries of such sort. In fine they fared to the Caliph and apprized him of what they had done and he presently gave command to summon the four Kazis who wrote her marriage-lines. When it was night he paid her the first visit and taking seat opposite her he asked, “Daughter of whom mayst thou be amongst the folk that thou demandedst of me this dower?” “Allah advance in honour the Commander of the Faithful,” answered she; “verily thy handmaid 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 wrath[99] and sware that he would not go in unto her for a 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-cakes[100] and he was pleased to admire his dexterity to such degree that, returning to the Palace, he sent him one of his Eunuchs with the message, “The Prince of True Believers requireth of thee an hundred pancakes, and let each one of them, when filled and folded, fit into the hollow of a man’s hand.” So the Castrato went and gave the order as we have related and paid the price and, when the pastrycook had made his requirement, he carried it away to the presence. Then the Caliph took seat and bade bring sugar and pistachios and all other such needs wherewith he fell to stuffing the pancakes with his own hands and placing in each and every a golden dinar. When this was done he despatched the same Eunuch to Kisra’s daughter with the message, “This night the Commander of the Faithful proposeth to visit thee, the year of his oath having expired, and he sendeth to thee saying:—What is it thy heart coveteth that he may forward it to thee?” The Castrato set forth upon this errand and received for all reply, “Say him my heart desireth naught, for that all I require is with me, nor is there aught of deficiency.” Accordingly, he returned and repeated her words to the Caliph who bade him fare forth again to her and say the same to her a second time, whenas she, “Let him send me a thousand dinars and a duenna in whom he confideth, so that I may disguise myself and go down with her and distribute gold to the mean and the mesquin.” Presently back came the slave bearing this reply, whereat the Caliph ordered the moneys be sent to her and the woman required; and the twain, Princess and duenna, went forth and threaded the lanes of Baghdad and her great thoroughfares whilst the young lady distributed her charity to the Fakirs and the paupers. But when all the gold with her had been expended and naught of it remained, they turned homewards making for the Palace; and, the day being sultry, drowthiness befel the young lady. So she said to her companion, “O mother mine, I am athirst and want a draught of water to drink;” and said the other, “We will call aloud to the Water-carrier[101] who shall give thee thy need.” Replied the Princess, “Drinking from the Waterman’s jar will not be pleasant to my heart; nor will I touch it, for ’tis like the whore[102] whereinto some man goeth every hour: let the draught of water be from a private house and suffer that it be given by way of kindness.” Hereupon the old woman looked in front of her and saw a grand gateway with a door of sandalwood over which a lamp hung by a silken cord[103] and a curtain was drawn across it and it had two benches of marble, the whole under the charge of a goodly concierge. Then quoth she, “From this house I will ask a drink for thee.” So the two women went forward and stood before the door and the duenna advancing rapped a light rap with the ring, when behold, the entrance was opened and came forth a young man in youthful favour fair and robed in raiments pure and rare and said, “’Tis well!” Hereat the governante addressed him, “O my son, indeed this my daughter is athirst and I crave of thy kindness that thou give her a draught of water, seeing that she will not drink from the Water-carrier.” 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 recognized 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 time[111] quoth he to Alaeddin, “Hast thou haply in heart aught of regret or requirement that I may fulfil it to thee? Ask of me anything save release, ere the Commander of the Faithful say the word and forthright thy head fall before thy feet?” “I desire,” quoth the Chamberlain, “that thou unbind this bandage from mine eyes so may I look one latest look at the world and at my friends, after which do thou work thy will.” The Sworder granted this and Alaeddin glanced first to the right where he saw none to aidance dight, and then to the left where he found all favour reft; and the spectators each and every hung their heads groundwards for awe of the Caliph, nor did any take upon himself to utter a kindly word. Whereupon the Chamberlain cried out his loudest saying, “A counsel, O Commander of the Faithful!” and Harun regarding him asked, “What is it thou counsellest?” “A respite of three days’ space,” rejoined the condemned, “when thou shalt see a marvel, indeed a miracle of miracles;” and the Caliph retorted, “After the third day, an I see not as thou sayest I will assuredly smite thy neck;” and bade them bear him back to gaol. But when the appointed term ended, the Caliph sprang up and in his impatience to see what would befal him donned a dress distinctive of his new calling,[112] and thrusting his feet into coarse shoon and high of heel[113] and binding about his brows a honey-coloured turband[114] he hent in hand a pellet-bow[115] and slung its case over his shoulders: he also took gold in pouch and thus equipped he left the palace. Then, as he roamed about the lanes of Baghdad and her highways, giving alms and saying in his mind, “Haply may I sight the wonder which the Chamberlain Alaeddin announced to me,” it befel about mid-forenoon (and he still walking) that behold, a man came forth from the Kaysaríyah[116] or chief mart of the merchants crying aloud, “This be a marvel, nay a miracle of miracles.” So the Caliph questioned him saying, “What be this wonder thou hast seen?” and he answered, “Within yon Kaysariyah is a woman who reciteth the Koran even as it was brought down,[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, “Whatso[119] of coin remaineth in purse shall go to this woman.” And he designed to gift her with the gold when suddenly the old dame sprang from her seat and going to a merchant’s shop took seat beside the man and said to him, “O my son, dost thou accept of a fair young lady?” Said he, “Yea, verily,” and she continued, “Up with thee and come that I show thee a thing whose like thou hast never seen.” Now when the Caliph heard her words he said to himself, “Look at yon foul old crone who playeth bawd when I held her to be a devotee, a holy woman. Indeed I will not give her aught until I see what work is wrought by these twain.” The trader then followed the old woman to her home wherein both, youth and crone, entered and the Caliph who pursued them also went in privily and took his station at a stead whence he could see without being seen.[120] Then lo and behold! the old trot called to her daughter who came forth from the bower wherein she was, and the Caliph looking at this young lady owned that he had never sighted amongst his women aught fairer than this, a model of beauty and loveliness and brilliancy and perfect face and stature of symmetric grace. Her eyes were black and their sleepy lids and lashes were kohl’d with Babylonian witchery, and her eyebrows were as bows ready to shoot the shafts of her killing glances, and her nose was like unto the scymitar’s edge, and her mouth for magical might resembled the signet-ring of Sulayman (upon whom be The Peace!), and her lips were carnelians twain, and her teeth union pearls and her mouth-dews sweeter than honey and more cooling than the limpid fount; with breasts strutting from her bosom in pomegranate-like rondure and waist delicate and hips of heavy weight, and stomach soft to the touch as sendal with plait upon plait, and she was one that excited the sprite and exalted man’s sight even as said a certain poet in song of her like:—

Breeze-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 ✿ Their boasts, thou haddest over-weight for beauty and their charms were light, ah!

Now when he considered her straitly, she captured the whole of his heart. But the young lady had not upon her clothes enough for concealment, and here and there her body showed bare; so when she came forth and espied the young man standing by the old woman she withdrew into her bower and said to her mother, “Allah requite[121] thee for that thou hast done. How can it be allowed thee by the Almighty to set me in this state before a stranger?” “Hold thy peace,” said her parent; “man is allowed to look, and if he have any art or part in the object looked at ’tis well; but thereafter if he look without its being his lot, then twere unlawful. This youth hath gazed upon thee, and if he prove to have a portion in thee let him take it, otherwise he may wend his ways, nor is there a flaw in aught of legal observance.” Hereat the Caliph’s heart was cheered, for he knew that the ancient dame meant to marry the maid. Anon quoth the old mother to the merchant, “Hast thou seen her?” and quoth he, “Yes.” “Did she please thee?” asked the crone, and he answered “Yea verily,” adding, “How much may be her actual marriage-settlement and her contingent dower?” She replied, “The first shall consist of four thousand dinars and the second shall be the same.” “This be overmuch,” rejoined the youth, “and more than all my good; to wit, four thousand gold pieces, the gift of which will send me forth to beg; but do thou take of me a thousand dinars, and upon me be the arraying of the house and the maiden’s raiment for another thousand; so will I do business and trade with the remainder.” But the crone sware to him by Allah the Almighty,[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 gore[126] by night in some place or other and the poor man hath yet a fear of him; otherwise what is the worth of this Robber that the Judge should hie to his house?” When they reached the door, the Kazi bade the ancient dame precede him;[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 name[129] 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 here? 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, “O 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 stores[135] and collect each and every stone-cutter in Baghdad. But do you all bear in mind that, if the household enquire who sent you, ye must reply, Thy son-in-law; and should they demand, What is his craft, say, We ken not; and when they require to know his name declare it to be Al-Bundukani. And whoso of you shall speak aught beyond this him will I crucify.” So the master-mason went forth and gathered together the stone-cutters and took marble and ashlar from the stores and set the material on the backs of beasts with all other needs and he repaired to the hall,[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?” “Al-Bundukani,” they replied. So she said to herself, “He is naught but a Robber and Captain of thieves.” Then the masons divided and marked out the ground, and each found that each and every had to pave and slab a surface of a cubit or less. Such was their case; but as concerneth the Caliph, he turned him to the chief Carpenter, and looking at him keenly said, “Go thou likewise and assemble all thy fellows in the capital: then do thou repair to the dwelling of Such-an-one and make the doors and so forth, in fact everything needed of carpentry and joinery, taking thee all the requisites from the public warehouses; nor let the afternoon come on ere thou shalt have finished, and if all be not done I will strike thy neck.” He also charged them even as he had charged the marble-cutters never to divulge his dignity or even his name other than Al-Bundukani. So the chief Carpenter went and, gathering his craftsmen, took planks and nails and all his needs, after which they repaired to the lodging and entered, and setting up their scaffoldings[137] fell to work while the head man marked off a task for each hand. But the crone was consterned and cried to the men, “And why? Who hath sent you?” “Thy son-in-law!” “And what may be his trade?” “We know not.” “Then what may be his name?” “Al-Bundukani.” So they pushed on their work, each urging his fellow, whilst the old woman well-nigh waxed Jinn-mad,[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 hemp[139] 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 twelvemonth? 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 house-mistress 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 Wálí[145] and tempt him with promises and thereby work the ruin of this robber and take the damsel to myself.” With these words he rose up sans stay or delay and, going to the Chief of Police related to him all that occurred and promised him a muchel of money saying, “Whatso thou wantest can be gotten from this robber inasmuch as he owneth good galore.” The Wali rejoiced and replied, “Be patient until after supper-tide when the thief shall have returned home and we will go and catch him and thou shalt carry away the young lady.” So the trader blessed him and took himself off and waited at home until it was supper-time and the streets were void of folk. Presently Názúk[146] 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 Shamámah[148] hight, which was a meeting-place of ill manners and morals; for naught was dearer to him save the straitening of a Moslem, nor was there upon his body a single hair which affected or aided the veiling of Allah.[149] Brief he was, even as the poet said:—

Whoreson and child of thousand pagans twain; ✿ Son of the Road to lasting sin and bane;

The Lord of Ruth ne’er grew him e’en a hair ✿ Was not with this or that of contact fain![150]

Now this man, who was standing beside the Chief of Police, seized the opportunity of saying, “O Emir, what booteth our standing idle in this stead? Better ’twere that we break down the door and rush in upon them and snatch what we want and loot all the stuffs in the house.” Hereat came forward another lieutenant who was called Hasan[151]—the Handsome—for that his face was fair and his works were fairer and he was a meeting-place of fairest deeds; and the same was wont to stand at the Wali’s door as a symbol of ruth to mankind. So he came forward and said, “O Emir, this were not the rede which is right and yonder man’s words lack good counsel, seeing that none hath complained against this folk and we know not an the accused be a thief or not: furthermore we fear consequences for that haply this merchant speaketh with an object, they having forbidden his marrying the girl: do not therefore cast thyself into that shall harm thee, but rather let us enquire anent the matter openly and publicly; and should it prove to be as reported, then the Emir’s opinion shall prevail.” All this took place while the old woman heard from behind the door whatso they said. Hereat she dried up with dread and affright and going within acquainted her daughter with what had occurred and ended with, “The Wali still is standing at the door.” The young lady was sore terrified and said to her mother, “Do thou bar[152] the entrance till Allah haply deign bring us comfort.” So the old woman fared forth and bolted and barred it yet more straitly; and when they knocked a second time she acknowledged the rap by “Who is at the door?” and the lieutenant Shamamah replied to her and said, “O ill-omened old woman, O accomplice of robbers, knowest thou not that he who rappeth is the Master of Police and his young men? So open to us forthright.” Quoth she, “We be 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 ordure[154] and who ape the evil practices of the populace.” All this and the Caliph overheard the fellow’s words and said to himself, “’Tis well! I will indeed gladden thee, O Accurst.” Then he turned and espied a street which was no thoroughfare, and one of its houses at the upper end adjoined the tenement wherein was his bride; so he went up to it and behold, its gateway showed a curtain drawn across and a lamp hung up and an Eunuch sitting upon the door-bench. Now this was the mansion of a certain noble who was lord over a thousand of his peers and his name was the Emir 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 mace[156] studded with fourteen spikes, wherewith had he smitten a hill he had shivered it; and then he went forth into the street muttering, “I ill-omened!”[157] But the Caliph seeing him recognised him straitway and cried, “Yunas!” whereat the Emir knew him by his voice, and casting the mace from his hand kissed ground and said “’Tis well, O Commander of the Faithful!” Harun replied, “Woe to thee, dog! whilst thou art the Chief of the Emirs shall this Wali, of men the meanest, come upon thy neighbours and oppress them and terrify them (these being women and without a man in the house), and yet thou holdest thy peace and sittest in ease at home nor goest out to him and ejectest him by the foulest of ejections?” Presently the other replied, “O Prince of True Believers, but for the dread of thee lest thou say:—This be the warder of the watch, why hast thou exceeded with him?, I would have made for him a night of the fulsomest, for him and for those with him. But an the Caliph command I will forthright break them all to bits nor leave amongst them a sound man; for what’s the worth of this Wali and all his varlets?” “First admit us to thy mansion,” quoth the Commander of the Faithful; so they passed in and the housemaster would have seated his visitor for the guest-rite but he refused all offers and only said, “Come up with us to the terrace-roof.” Accordingly they ascended and found that between it and the dwelling of the bride was but a narrow lane; whereupon quoth the Caliph, “O Yunas, I would find a place whence I can look down upon these women.” “There is no other way,” quoth the other, “save herefrom; and, if thou desire, I will fetch thee a ladder[158] and plant it in such wise that thou canst pass across.” “Do so,” rejoined the other, and the Emir bringing a ladder disposed it after bridge fashion that the Caliph crossed over the lane to the house on the other side. Then quoth he, “Go sit thee in thy stead, and when I want thee I will call.” Yunas did as he was bidden and remained on the watch for his lord’s summons. But the Prince of True Believers walked over the terrace-roof with the lightest tread and not audible, lest his footsteps frighten the inmates, till he came to the parapet[159] and looking adown therefrom upon the hall he saw a site like the Garden of Paradise which had been newly pranked and painted, whilst the lighted wax-candles and candelabra showed the young lady, the bride, sitting upon her bedstead adorned with gems and jewellery. She was like a Sun shedding sheen in sky serene, or a full moon at the fullest seen, with brow flower-bright and eyes black and white and beauty-spots fresh as greenth to the sight; brief she was as one of whom the poet saith:—

She’s a wonder! her like none in universe see, ✿ For beauty and graces and softest blee:

That fairest of blossoms she blooms on earth ✿ Than gardens the sheeniest sheenier she:

And soft is the rose of her cheek to the touch ✿ ’Twixt apple’s and Eglantine’s lenity,

And the forelock-falls on the brow of her ✿ Death-doom to the World and the Faith decree;

And she shames the branchlet of Basil when ✿ She paces the Garden so fair and free.

An water doubted her soft sweet gait ✿ She had glided with water o’er greenery:

When she walketh the world like the Húr al-Ayn[160] ✿ By the tongue of looks to her friends say we:—

“O Seeker, an soughtest the heart of me ✿ Heart of other thou never hadst sought for thee:

O lover, an filled thee my love thou ne’er ✿ ’Mid lovers hadst dealt me such tyranny.”

Praise Him who made her an idol for man ✿ And glory to Him who to her quoth “BE!”

The Caliph was astonishment-struck at what he sighted of her beauty and loveliness whilst her mother stood before her saying, “O my child, how shall be our case with these tyrants,[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 vetchling[163] and, setting it between his thumb and forefinger, jerked it at the wax candle which burned before the young lady and extinguished the light. “Who put out yon taper?” cried the old woman, “and left the others afire?” and so saying she rose and lighted it again. But Harun took aim at that same and jerking another pebble once more extinguished it and made her exclaim, “Ah me! what can have put out this also?” and when the quenching and quickening were repeated for the third time she cried with a loud voice saying, “Assuredly the air must have waxed very draughty and gusty; so whenever I light a candle the breeze bloweth it out.” Hereat laughed the young lady and putting forth her hand to the taper would have lit it a third time when behold, her finger was struck by a pebble and her wits fled her head. But as the mother turned towards the terrace-wall the first glance showed to her sight her son-in-law there sitting, so she cried to her daughter, “O my child, behold thy bridegroom whence he cometh unto thee, but robbers arrive not save by the roof, and had he not been a housebreaker he would have entered by the door. However Alhamdolillah that he hath chosen the way of our terrace, otherwise they had captured him;” presently adding “Woe to thee, O miserable, fly hence or the watch at the door shall seize thee and we women shall not avail to release thee after thou fallest into their hands; nor will any have ruth upon thee; nay, they will cut off at least one of thine extremities. So save thyself and vanish so as not to lapse into the grip of the patrol.” But hearing these her words he laughed and said to her, “Do thou open to me the terrace-wicket that I come down to you and see how to act with these dogs and dog-sons.” She replied, “Woe to thee, O miserable, deemest thou these be like unto that poor Kazi who snipped his gown in fear of thee: he who now standeth at the door is Nazuk Wali and hast thou authority over him also?” He repeated, “Open to me that I may come down, otherwise I will break in the door;” so she unbolted the terrace-wicket and he descended the stairs and entered the hall where he took seat beside his bride and said, “I am an-hungered: what have ye by way of food?” The ancient dame cried, “And what food shall go down grateful to thy stomach and pleasant when the police are at the door?” and he replied, “Bring me what ye have and fear not.” So she arose and served up to him whatso remained of meat and sweetmeat and he fell to morselling[164] them with mouthfuls and soothing them with soft words till they had their sufficiency of victual, after which she, the mother-in-law, removed the tray. Meanwhile the Chief of Police and his varlets stood shouting at the door and saying, “Open to us otherwise we will break in.” Presently quoth the Caliph to the old trot, “Take this seal-ring and go thou forth to them and place it in the Wali’s hands. An he ask thee, Who is the owner of this signet? answer thou, Here is he with me; and if he enquire of thee, What doth he wish and what may he want? do thou reply, He requireth a ladder of four rungs and its gear, not forgetting a bundle of rods;[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 colick[167] 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 creditor[169] and save thyself alive.” Hereat quoth Shamamah, “O my lady, what dost thou require?” and quoth she to herself, “Indeed I am rejoiced for that they dread my son-in-law;” and presently she spoke aloud to him and said, “The lord of the seal-ring demandeth of thee a ladder of four rungs, a bundle of rods and cords and a bag containing the required gear,[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 haste[172] and was bidden to bastinado the Wali and Shamamah which he did with such good will that the nails fell from their toes; after which they were carried off and thrown into gaol. Then the Caliph largessed lieutenant Hasan; and, appointing him on the spot Chief of Police, dismissed the watch to their barracks. And when the street was cleared the old woman returning to the Harem said to her son-in-law, laughing the while, “There be none in this world to fellow thee as the Prince of Robbers! The Wali dreadeth thee and the Kazi dreadeth thee and all dread thee, whilst I gird my loins in thy service and become a she-robber amongst the women even as thou art a Robber amongst men, and indeed so saith the old saw:—The slave is fashioned of his lord’s clay and the son after the features of his sire. Had this Wali, at his first coming, let break down the door and had his men rushed in upon us and thou not present, what would have been our case with them? But now to Allah be laud and gratitude!” The Caliph hearing these words laughed, and taking seat beside his bride, who rejoiced in him, asked his mother-in-law, “Say me, didst ever see a Robber who bore him on this wise with the Wali and his men?” and answered she, “Never, by the life of thee, but may Allah Almighty reprehend the Caliph for that he did by us and punish him for wronging us, otherwise who was it forwarded thee to us, O Robber?” Quoth the Commander of the Faithful in his mind, “How have I wronged this ill-omened old woman that she curseth me?” and presently he asked her, “And wherein hath the Caliph done thee an injury?” She replied, “And what hath the Caliph left us of livelihood and so forth when he marauded our mansion and seized all our seisins? Even this hall was part of the plunder and they laid it waste after taking from it all they could of marble and joinery and what-not; and they left us paupers, as thou sawest, without aught wherewith to veil us and naught to eat. So had it not been that Almighty Allah favoured us with thyself, O Robber, we had been of the destroyed by famine and so forth.” “And wherefore did the Caliph plunder you?” asked he, “And what was the cause of his so doing?” She answered,[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 unhappies!” and he presently asked her, “What wilt thou say if I cause the Caliph to free thy son from gaol and robe him and return his fiefs to him and promote him in the Chamberlain’s office and return him to thee this very night?” Hereat the old woman laughed and made answer, “Hold thy peace! This one is no Chief of Police that he fear thee and thou work on him whatso thou willest: this one is the Prince of True Believers Harun al-Rashid, whose behest is heard both in Orient and in Occident, the lord of hosts and armies, one at whose gate the lowest menial is higher in degree than the Wali. Be not therefore beguiled by whatso thou hast done, nor count the Caliph as one of these lest thou cast thyself into doom of destruction, and there be an end of thy affair, while we unfortunates abide without a man in the house, and my son fail of being righted by him who wronged him.” But when the Commander of the Faithful heard these words, his eyes brimmed with tears for ruth of her; then, rising without stay or delay, he would have fared forth when the old woman and the young lady hung about his neck crying, “We adjure thee, by Almighty Allah, that thou draw back from this business, for that we fear greatly on thy account.” But he replied, “There is no help therefor,” and he made oath that perforce he must go. Then he fared for the Palace of his kingship, and seating himself upon the throne bade summon the Emirs and Wazirs and Chamberlains, who flocked into the presence and kissed ground and prayed for him saying, “’Tis well, Inshallah! and what may be the reason for calling us together at this time o’ night?” Said he, “I have been pondering the affair of Alaeddin the Emir, the Chamberlain, how I seized him wrongfully and jailed him, yet amongst you all was not a single one to intercede for him or to cheer him with your companionship.” They bussed ground and replied, “Verily we were awe-struck by the majesty of the Prince of True Believers; but now at this hour we implore of the Commander of the Faithful his mercy upon his slave and chattel;” and so saying, they bared their heads and kissing the floor did humble obeisance. He replied, “I have accepted[174] your intercession on his account, and I have vouchsafed to him pardon; so hie ye to him and robe him with a sumptuous robe and bring him to me.” They did the bidding of their lord and led the youth to the presence where he kissed ground and prayed for the permanence of the Caliph’s rule; and the Sovran accepting this clothed him in a coat whereon plates of gold were hammered[175] and binding round his head a turband of fine gauze with richly embroidered ends made him Chief Lord of the Right[176] and said to him, “Hie thee now to thy home!” Accordingly he blessed the Prince and went forth accompanied by all the Emirs who rode their blood-steeds, and the Knights fared with him and escorted him in procession, with kettledrums and clarions, till they reached his mansion. Here his mother and his sister heard the hubbub of the multitude and the crash of the kettledrums and were asking, “What is to do?” when the bearers of glad tidings forewent the folk and knocked at the door saying, “We require of you the sweetmeats of good news, for the Caliph hath shown grace to Alaeddin the Chamberlain and hath increased his fiefs besides making him Chief Lord of the Right.” Hearing this they rejoiced with joy exceeding and gave to the messengers what satisfied them, and while they were thus, behold, Alaeddin the son of the house arrived and entered therein. His mother and sister sprang up and saluted him throwing their arms round his neck and weeping for stress of gladness. Presently he sat down and fell to recounting to them what had befallen him; but chancing to look around he saw that the house had changed condition and had been renovated; so he said, “O my mother, the time of my absence hath been short and when was this lodging made new?” She replied, “O my son, what day thou wast seized, they plundered our abode even to tearing up the slabs and the doors, nor did they leave us aught worth a single dirham: indeed we passed three days without breaking our fast upon aught of victual.” Hearing this from her quoth he, “But whence cometh all this to you, these stuffs and vessels and who was it rebuilded this house in a space so short? Or haply is all this I see in the lands 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 him[178] with a man who wrought all thou seest in half a day.” Then she related to her son what had befallen the Kazi and the Wali from the man and how he had bastinado’d the police, showing him as she 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 handicraftsmen, they told us only that his bye-name[179] is Al-Bundukani without letting us know any other. Moreover on like wise when he sent me to fetch the Kazi he bade me tell him that Al-Bundukani had summoned him.” Now when the Emir Alaeddin heard her name Al-Bundukani he knew that it was the Commander of the Faithful, nor could he prevent himself springing to his feet and kissing ground seven times; but as his mother beheld this she laughed and cried, “O thou brawler,[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-Rashid[183] replied, “May Allah pardon the Past.” Presently he sent for the Princess, the daughter of the Chosroe and, summoning the Kazi, forthright divorced her and gave her in marriage to Alaeddin, his Chamberlain. Hereupon were spread bride-feasts which gathered together all the Lords of the Empire and the Grandees of Baghdad, and tables and trays of food were laid out during three successive days for the mesquin and the miserable. The visit of entrance was paid by the two bridegrooms on a single night when both went in unto their wives and took their joy of them, and made perfect their lives with the liveliest enjoyment. And ever after they passed the fairest of days till such time as came to them the Destroyer of delights and the Severer of societies and all passed away and died. So praise be to the Ever-Living who dieth not!

Such is the tale which came down to us
in completion and perfection,
and glory be to God, the

Lord of the three Worlds.

Amen.

M.

THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA AND THE KING’S SON.

We here begin,[184] with the aidance of Allah Almighty and indite the History of the Tarjumanah[185] and the Kahramanah[186] and the young man, the King’s Son, and whatso happed between them of controversy and of contention and interrogation on various matters.

It is related (but Allah is All-knowing anent what passed and preceded us of the histories belonging to bygone peoples) that there reigned in a city of Roum[187] a King of high degree and exalted dignity, a lord of power and puissance. But this Sovran was issue-less, so he ceased not to implore Allah Almighty that boon of babe might be vouchsafed to him and presently the Lord had pity upon him and deigned grant him a man-child. He bade tend the young Prince with tenderest tending, and caused him to be taught every branch of knowledge, and the divine precepts of wisdom and morals and manners; nor did there remain aught of profitable learning wherein the Youth was not instructed; and upon this education the King expended a mint of money. Now after the Youth grew up Time rounded upon the Sovran his sire and his case was laid bare and he was perplext as to himself and he wotted not whatso he should ever do. Presently his son took heart to direct him aright, and asked, “O my father, say me, wilt thou give ear to that wherewith I would bespeak thee?” “Speak out,” quoth the King, “that is with thee of fair rede;” and quoth the youth, “Rise, O my sire, that we depart this city ere any be ware of our wending: so shall we find rest and issue from the straits of indigence now closing around us. In this place there is no return of livelihood to us and poverty hath emaciated us and we are set in the sorriest of conditions than which naught can be sorrier.” “O my child,” quoth his sire in reply, “admirable is this advice wherewith thou hast advised us, O my son, pious and dutiful; and be the affair now upon Allah and upon thee.” Hereupon the Youth gat all ready and arising one night took his father and mother without any being cognisant; and the three, entrusting themselves to the care of Allah Almighty, wandered forth from home. And they ceased not wandering over the wilds and the wolds till at last they saw upon their way a large city and a mighty fine; so they entered it and made for a place whereat they alighted. Presently the young Prince arose and went forth to stroll about the streets and take his solace; and whilst he walked about he asked concerning the city and who was its Sovran. They gave him tidings thereof saying, “This be the capital of a Sultan, equitable and high in honour amongst the Kings.” Hereupon returning to his father and mother, quoth he to them, “I desire to sell you as slaves to this Sultan,[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’álà—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 old woman his heart was occupied with the love of the King’s daughter and he passed that night as it were to him the longsomest of nights, nor would he believe that the next morn had morrowed. But when dawned the day and anon showed its sheen and shone, he arose without let or stay and after saddling his mare mounted her and turned towards the palace belonging to the King’s daughter; and presently reaching it, took his station at the gateway. Hereat all those present considered him and asked him saying, “What be the cause of thy standing hereabouts?” whereto he answered, “I desire speech with the Princess.” But when they heard these words, all fell to addressing him with kindly words and courteous and dissuading him from his desire and saying, “Ho thou beautiful youngling! fear[194] Allah and pity thyself and have ruth upon thy youth; nor dare seek converse with this Princess, for that she hath slain fourscore and nineteen men of the nobles and sons of the kings and for thee sore we fear that thou shalt complete the century.” The Prince, however, would not hear a word from them nor heed their rede; neither would he be warned by the talk of others than they; nay he persisted in standing at the Palace gateway. And presently he asked admission to go in to the King’s daughter; but this was refused by the Princess, who contented herself with sending forth to him her 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 Tarjumanah, 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 Rod[198] of Moses the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!) which, when a living branch[199] struck water from its living root and died only when severed from the parent tree. Now Almighty Allah cast it upon the land of Egypt by the hand of Moses, what time this Prophet drowned Pharaoh and his host[200] and therewith clove the Red Sea, after which that Rod became a dragon and swallowed up the wands of all the Magicians of Misraim.” Asked she, “Give me tidings of a thing which is not of mankind nor of the Jánn-kind, neither of the beasts nor of the birds?” He answered saying, “This whereof thou speakest is that mentioned by Solomon, to wit 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 Elias[203] the Prophet and the third was Lot’s wife who died not the death of the general, for that she was turned into a pillar of salt.” Quoth she, “Relate to me concerning one who in this world had two names?” and he answered saying, “This be Jacob, sire of the Twelve Tribes, to whom Allah vouchsafed the title of Israel, which is Man with El or God.”[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 be seated. As soon as he had taken seat she gave her commands to the Tarjumanah, 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 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 prayer[212] of a drunken man which is in either case illegal.” Quoth she, “Tell me how far is the interval between Heaven and Earth?” and he answered saying, “That bridged over by the prayer of Moses the Prophet[213] (upon him be The Peace!) whom Allah Almighty saved and preserved.” She said, “And how far is it betwixt East and West?” whereto he answered saying, “The space of a day and the course of the Sun wending from Orient unto Occident.” Then she asked, “Let me know what was the habit[214] 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’hák[217] as a Corban or Sacrifice; and of the truth of his trust he took his child and would have slain him as a victim. But when he drew his knife with the purpose of slaughtering the youth he was thus addressed by the Most Highest Creator:—Now indeed well I wot that thou gatherest[218] me and keepest my covenant: so take thou yonder ram and slay it as a victim in the stead of Is’hak. And after this he entituled him ‘Friend.’” She pursued, “Inform me touching the sons of Israel how many were they at the time of the going forth from Egypt?” He answered, saying, “When they marched out of Misraim-land they numbered six hundred thousand fighting[219] men besides women and children.” She continued, “Do thou point out to me, some place on earth which is higher than the Heavens;” and he answered saying, “This is Jerusalem[220] the Exalted and she standeth far above the Firmament.” Then the Youth turning to the Linguist-dame, said, “O my lady, long and longsome hath been the exposition of that which is between us, and were thy lady to ask me for all time questions such as these and the like of them, I by the All-might of Allah shall return a full and sufficient answer to one and all. But, in lieu of so doing, I desire of thy mistress the Princess to ask of her one question and only one; and, if she satisfy me of the significance I claim therefor, let her give me to drain the cup of my foregoers whom she overcame and slew; and if she fail in the attempt she shall own herself conquered and become my wife——and The Peace!”[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 mother[223] and he fared forth to seek comfort and happiness at the hand of Allah Almighty. Anon Death met him on the way and Doom bore him upon his head and his courser saved him from destruction whenas he drank water which came neither from the sky nor from the ground. Now see thou who may be that man and do thou give me answer concerning him.”[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 backwards[225] and to illumine the universe in lieu thereof. Now when thou wast wont to visit us in the apartment of the Princess, this maiden looked upon thee and found thee a fair youth; so her heart loved thee with excessive love and desired thee with exceeding desire and to such degree that she insisted upon accompanying me and she hath now taken station at thy door longing to enter. So do thou grant her permission that she come in and appear in thy presence and then retire to some privacy where she may stand in thy service, a slave to thy will.”[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 of her person: 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 to 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 to 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 Cohen[228] and the Lords of his land and the Grandees of his realm and the Notables of his kith and kin. And when the Priest and all made act of presence, he told them the whole tale first and last; namely, the conditions to the Youth conditioned, that if overcome by his daughter and unable to answer her questions he should be let drain the cup of destruction like his fellows, and if he overcame her he should claim her to wife. Furthermore he declared that the Youth had answered, with full and sufficient answer, all he had been asked without doubt or hesitation; while at last he had proposed to her an enigma which she had been powerless to solve; and in this matter he had vanquished her twice (he having answered her and she having failed to answer him) “For which reason,” concluded the King, “’tis only right that he marry her; even as was the condition between them twain; and it becometh our first duty to adjudge their contention and decide their case according to covenant and he being doubtless the conqueror to bid write his writ of marriage with her. But what say ye?” They replied, “This is the rightest of redes; moreover the Youth, a fair and a pleasant, becometh her well and she likewise besitteth him; and their lot is a wondrous.” So they bade write the marriage writ and the Cohen, arising forthright, pronounced the union auspicious and began blessing and praying for the pair and all present. In due time the Prince went in to her and consummated the marriage according to the custom stablished by Allah and His Holy Law; and thereafter he related to his bride all that had betided him, from beginning to end, especially how he had sold his parents to one of the Kings. Now when she heard these words, she had ruth upon his case and soothed his spirit saying to him, “Be of good cheer and keep thine eyes clear and cool of tear.” Then, after a little while the Princess bestowed upon her bridegroom a mint of money that he might fare forth and free his father and his mother. Accordingly the Prince, accepting her largesse, sought the King to whom he had pledged his parents (and they were still with him in all weal and welfare) and going in to him made his salam and kissed ground and told him the whole tale of the past and the conditions of death or marriage he had made with the King’s daughter and of his wedding her after overcoming her in contention. So the monarch honoured him with honour galore than which naught could be more; and, when the Prince paid him over the moneys, he asked, “What be these dirhams?” “The price of my parents thou paidest to me,” answered the other. But the King exclaimed, “I gave thee not to the value of thy father and mother moneys of such amount as this sum. I only largessed thee with a mare and a suit of clothes which was not defraying a debt but presenting thee with a present and thereby honouring thee with due honour. Then Alhamdolillah—laud be to the Lord, who preserved thee and enabled thee to win thy wish, and now arise and take thy parents and return in safety to thy bride.” The Prince hereupon thanked him and praised Allah for the royal guerdon and favours and the fair treatment wherewith he had been entreated; after which he craved leave to receive his parents in charge and wend his ways. And when permission was granted to him, he wished all good wishes to the King and taking his father and his mother in weal and welfare he went his ways with them, in joy and gladness and gratitude for all blessings and benefits by Allah upon him bestowed, till he had returned to his bride. Here he found that his father-in-law had deceased during his absence, so he took seat in lieu of him upon the throne of the kingdom; and he and his consort, during all the days of their life in this world, ceased not eating and drinking in health and well-being and eating and drinking in joy and happiness and bidding and forbidding until they quitted this mundane scene to the safeguard of the Lord God. And here endeth and is perfected the history of the Youth, the King’s son, and the sale of his parents and his falling into the springes of the Princess who insisted upon proposing problems to all her wooers with the condition that if they did not reply she would do them drain the cup of destruction and on this wise had slain a many of men; and, in fine, how she was worsted by and she fell to the lot of this youth whom Allah gifted with understanding to ree all her riddles and who had confounded her with his question whereto she availed not to reply; so she was contented to marry him and he, when his father-in-law died, succeeded to the kingdom which he ruled so well.

M.[229]

Note to p. 105.

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 water[230] (or rather from the Koptic Mo = water, ushe = saved). He became a priest at 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]

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

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

Trieste, October 11, 1887.

My dear Sir Richard,

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

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:

A. | B.
1. | Genesis xxiv. 32, to xxv. 25 (Births of Jacob’s sons). | 1. | Gen. xv. 13.
| | 2. | Ex. xii. 40, 41.
2. | xxxv. 23–26 (Recapitulation of the above). | | 3. Acts vii. 6.

3.

xlvi. 8–27 (List of Jacob and his sons when they came into Egypt).

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

4. | Ex. vi. 14–27 (Lineage of Aaron and Moses).

5.

Numb. xxxvi. 1–2 (Lineage of Zelophehad).

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.

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). | 5. | 1 Chron. vi. 1–15 (Lineage of Ezra’s brother Jehozadak, abounding in repetitions and worthless).
11. | Ezra vii. 1–5 (ditto of Ezra).

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

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

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!

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 30 he joined Joseph in Egypt (Gen. xlvii. 9). Joseph, therefore, born in Padan Aram was now, instead of 40, over 70 years old! That this is so, is certain. In Judah’s exquisite pleadings (Gen. xliv. 18–34) he speaks of Benjamin as “the child of Jacob’s old age,” “a little one,” and seven times he calls him “the lad.” Benjamin is some years younger than Joseph, but when the migration into Egypt takes place—a few weeks after Judah’s speech—Benjamin comes as father of ten sons (Gen. xlvi. 21), but here Bene Benjamin is used in its broad sense of “descendants,” for in 1 Chron. vii. 6–12 we find that the “Bene” were sons, grandsons and great-grandsons. To hold that Joseph at 40 had a younger brother who was a great-grandfather, is, of course, utterly absurd.

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

Born in Egypt:—

| Levi (father of) | | Judah (father of)
| Kohath | | Pharez
| | | Hezron
1. | Amram | 1. | Ram
2. | Aaron | 2. | Amminadab
3. | Eleazar | 3. | Nahshon
4. | Phineés | 4. | Salma

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

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

If the Egyptian inscriptions and papyri prove anything, it is this: that from the subjugation of Palestine by one of the Thotmes down to the great invasion of the hordes from Asia Minor in the reign of Rameses 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 Aráif?) These people became “Seed of Abraham,” “Children of Israel,” by adoption, to which I have no doubt, Paul refers in the “adoption” of Romans viii. 15–23; ix. 4; Gal. iv. 5; Eph. i. 5. In the lapse of ages this distinction between Bene Israel and Bene Jacob was forgotten, and therefore the very uncritical Masorites in their edition of the Old Testament “confounded the confusion” in this matter. With the disappearance of the 400 years and of the supposed two or three centuries covered by the book of Judges, the genealogies stand as facts. The mistake in the case of the Judges is in supposing them to have been consecutive, when, in fact, as the subjugations by neighbouring peoples were local and extended only over one or two tribes, half a dozen of them may have been contemporaneous.

7. Aaron and Moses were by their father Amram, greatgrandchildern of Levi—by their mother’s 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 chronologers 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, that Pharaoh sent breadstuffs to the Chittim in “the time of famine.” The Hebrew records and traditions connect Joseph’s prime ministry with a famine. By the genealogies it could have been only this in the time of Minephtah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accepting the statement that Moses led over 600,000 men “able to go to war” out of Egypt, and Joshua an equal number to the conquest of Canaan, the story of the Exodus, of that conquest and of the subsequent subjugations of various tribes by the neighbouring kings are all nonsense; the books of Joshua and Judges are incredible. The difficulty is fully met and overcome, if we suppose the number to have been exaggerated, as it would be by adding a cypher to the right of a line of Arabic numerals, by which 60,000 is made 600,000; the 76,500 warriors of Judah are reduced to 7,650, and so on.

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

There remains one more bubble to be exploded.

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

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

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

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

1st Generation | 500
2nd do. | 1,500
3rd do. | 4,500
4th do. | 13,500
| ——————
| 29,000
Minus 25 per centum as above | 7,250
| ——————
| 21,750
Add the real Bene Jacob | 765
| ——————
Aggregate | 22,515
| ——————

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

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

(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]

It is related (and Allah is All-knowing!) of a certain man which was a Warlock, that Destiny drave 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, wherethrough coursed the Dajlah River blended with the River Furát[235] and over the united stream were thrown seven bridges of boats; all these were bound one to other for the folk to pass over on their several pursuits, especially for the pleasure-seekers who fared forth to the palm-orchards and the vergiers abounding in fruits while the birds were hymning Allah, the Sole, the All-conquering. Now one day as this Warlock was amusing himself amongst the markets he passed by the shop of a Cook before whom were set for sale dressed meats of all kinds and colours;[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 leaves[238] 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 ruth 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 dost 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 hied 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 warehouses[241] and taverns[242] unbolted and wide open and flock to congregational devotions. And at such time this rare maiden cometh down from her palace and solaceth herself with beholding the Bazars and anon she entereth the Hammam and batheth therein and straightway goeth forth and fareth homewards. But one Friday said I to myself, “I will not go to the Mosque, for I would fain look upon her with a single look;” and when prayer-time came and the folk flocked to the fane for divine service, I hid myself within my shop. Presently that august damsel appeared with a comitive of forty handmaidens all as full moons newly risen and each fairer than her fellows, while she amiddlemost rained light upon them as she were the irradiating sun; and the bondswomen would have kept her from sight by thronging around her and they carried her skirts by means of bent rods[243] golden and silvern. I looked at her but one look when straightway my heart fell in love to her burning as a live coal and from mine eyes tears railed and until now I am still in that same yearning, and what yearning!” And so saying the youth cried out with an outcry whereby his soul was like to leave his body. “Is this case still thy case?” asked the Warlock, and the youth answered, “Yes, O my lord;” when the other enquired, “An I bring thee and her together what wilt thou give me?” and the young Cook replied, “My money and my life which shall be between thy hands!” Hereupon quoth the Mediciner, “Up with thee and bring me a phial of metal and seven needles and a piece of fresh Lign-aloes;[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 seven-fold sorts. Then, taking the phial he thrust the seven needles into the green Lign-aloes and set it in the cooked meat which he made fast with the sealing-clay. Lastly he conjured over these objects with a Conjuration[246] 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 Imrán[247] with a snake and baldrick’d with a basilisk and cried:—Who be this trader and son of a slave-girl who hath knocked at the ground for us this evening? Then do thou, O youth, reply:—I am a lover and of age youthful and my love is to a young lady; and unto your gramarye I have had recourse, O folk of manliness and generosity and masterful deeds: so work ye with me and confirm mine affair and aid me in this matter. See ye not how Such-an-one, daughter of Such-an-one, oppression and wrong to me hath done, nor is she with me in affection as she was anon? They shall answer thee:—Let it be, as is said, in the tail;[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 Káshán[249] 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 bedding[251] and still sleeping passed through the house-door and she was bright and beautiful as the easting sun. But when the youth the Cook sighted her, he was perplext 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 Jánn.” “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 Húr and Ghilmán:[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 juttest 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 of 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 theewards, 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 broadcast upon the path, like a stream, from the gateway of the Palace to the door of the young Cook’s lodging, wherein the Princess nighted 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 hied 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 Commander of the Faithful forthright gave orders to mount, and the twain, escorted by their host, rode forth on the traces of the grain till they drew near the house, when the youth heard the jingle and jangle[256] of horses’ tramp and the wrangle and cangle of men’s outcries. Upon this said the Cook to the Warlock, “Here they draw near to seize me, O my lord, what is there now for me to do?” and said the other, “Rise and fill me an ewer with water; then mount therewith to the terrace-roof and pour the contents round and about the house, after which come down to me.” The youth did his bidding, and meanwhile the Caliph and the Wazir and the soldiery had approached the house when, lo and behold! the site had become an island amiddlemost a main dashing with clashing billows.[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 drave as he had directed until all who entered lost their lives and a many of men where drowned. Hereupon cried the Prince of True Believers, “O Wazir, we are about to destroy our host and to fare with them!” and cried the other, “How shall we act, O Caliph of the Age? Haply our first, nay our best way, is to ask help of those within the house and grant to them indemnity while they exchange words with us and we see anon what will come of their affair.” “Do as beseemeth thee,” answered the Prince of True Believers; whereupon the Minister commanded his men to cry aloud upon the household and they sued for help during a length of time. But the Sage, hearing their shouts, said to the youth, “Arise and go up to the terrace and say to the Caliph of the Age:—Thou art in safety; turn away thy steps hence and presently we will meet thy Highness in health and weal; otherwise[258] thy daughter shall be lost and thine army shall be destroyed, and thou, O Commander of the Faithful, wilt depart and return as one outdriven. Do thou wend thy ways: this be not the mode of meeting us and in such manner there is no management.” The Cook did as he was bidden, and when the twain heard his words, quoth the Wazir to the Caliph, “Verily these be naught save Magicians, otherwise they must be of the fulsomest of the Jann, for indeed never heard we nor saw we aught of this.” Hereupon the Prince of True Believers turned his back upon the place and he sorrowful and strait of breast and disheartened of heart; so he went down to his Palace and sat there for a full-told hour when behold, the Warlock and the Cook appeared before him. But as soon as they stood in the presence the Caliph cried out, “O Linkman, bring me the head of yonder youth from between his shoulders!” Hereupon the Executioner came forward and tearing a strip off the youth’s robe-skirt bandaged his eyes; then he walked thrice round about him brandishing his blade over the victim’s head and lastly cried, “O Caliph of the Age, shall I make away with this youth?” Answered the Caliph, “Yes, after thou shalt have stricken off his head.” Hearing this the Sworder raised his hand and smote, when suddenly his grip was turned backwards upon a familiar of his who stood beside him, and it lighted upon his neck with such force that his head flew 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 practise 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 perplext in the extreme and were in admiration at that matter, and especially the Prince of True Believers who cried, “O Wazir, what seest thou in this business?” The Wazir replied, “O Caliph of the Age, verily Allah Almighty to thee hath sent this Sage that He[260] might show thee such marvels as these.” Then the Warlock signalled with his hand to the lions which shrank till they became as cats which carried on the combat; and both Caliph and Wazir wondered thereat with excessive wonderment. Anon quoth the King to the Minister, “Bid the Sage display to us more of his marvels;” and accordingly the Wazir obeyed his lord’s behest, and the Warlock replied, “To hear is to obey.” He then said, “Bring hither to me a chauldron full of water;” and when it was brought he asked the Courtiers, “Which of you would divert himself?” “I,” quoth the Wazir; when quoth the Sage, “Do thou rise to thy feet and doff thy robes and gird thee with a zone:” whereto said the other, “Bring me a waistcloth;” and when it was brought he did therewith as he was bidden. Hereat said the Warlock, “Seat thee in the centre of the chauldron;” so he plunged into the water, but when he would have seated him amiddlemost thereof as ordered he saw only that he had entered a sea dashing with surges clashing wherein whoso goeth is lost to view, and whence whoso cometh is born anew; and he fell to swimming from side to side intending to issue forth, while the waves suffered him not to make the shore. And while he was in this case behold, a billow of the billows vomited[261] him up from the sea to the strand and he stood on dry land, when he surveyed his person and suddenly saw that he had become a woman with the breasts of a woman and the solution of continuity like a woman, and long black hair flowing down to his heels even as a woman’s. Then said he to himself, “O ill-omened diversion! What have I done with such unlucky disport that I have looked upon this marvel and wonder of wonderments, only to become a woman.[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,” 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 beast[264] and hath fared forth to pasture it and plough therewith; but right soon will he return.” And whilst they were thus conversing the youth came forward, and the Wazir on sighting him groaned and cried, “Well-away for me! this very night I shall become a bride for this blamed lad[265] to sleep withal. And if I say to them:—What intent have ye? Ye are in meanness and misery[266] while I am Wazir to the Caliph; they will never believe me for that I have become a woman, and all thereto appertaining now belongeth to me. Alack and alas for that I did with mine own self; indeed what business had I with such diversion?” Hereupon the fisherman called out, “O my son, up with thee and straightway take this Mermaid and marry her and abate her pucelage and be blessed with her and enjoy thy joy with her during all the days of thy life-tide: doubtless, O my child, thou art in all boon fortune, seeing that what good befel thee never betided any before thee nor will become the lot of one after thee.” So the youth arose and for his delight hardly believing in his conquest, married her and lay with her and did away her maidenhead and on that very night she conceived by him. After nine months she bare him issue and the couple ceased not to be after this fashion till she had become a mother of seven. But the Wazir, of his stress and excess of the trouble and the travail he endured, said to himself, “How long shall last this toil and torment wherewith I am liver-smitten and that too by mine own consent? So e’en will I arise and hie me to this sea and hurl me thereinto and whatso shall become of me let it be: haply I may find rest from these torments into which I have fallen.” And forthright he arose and sought the shore and did as he had devised, when a wave enveloped him and cast him deep into the depths and he was like to choke, when suddenly his head protruded from the chauldron and he was seated as before he had ducked it. Hereupon he saw the Caliph sitting in state with the Sage by his side and all the Lords of the land and the Notables of the commons awaiting the end of his adventure. So he gazed at them and showed a smiling face[267] and laughed aloud when the Prince of True Believers asked him saying, “What hast thou seen, O Wazir?” So he repeated to the Sovran all he had sighted and everything that had come down upon his head, presently adding, “O Caliph of the Age and the sum and substance of the Time and the Tide, what be these marvels wrought by this Sage? Verily I have beheld the garths of Paradise[268] 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 practised 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 mankind 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 alms-gift a Tobe[270] all tattered and torn wherewith he veiled his shame. And after so doing he fell to wandering about the city for pastime, and while walking about he passed into a Bazar and there sighted a cook, before whom he stood open-mouthed (for indeed famine had thinned him), and he bethought him of what to do, and he knew not how to act. However the cook at first sight was certified of his being a foreigner, and haply a shipwrecked mariner so he asked him, “O my brother, why dost 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 dinars, 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 perplext and cried out to the Caliph, “O Satan, dost 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; however, 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 wast 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.

FINIS.

THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF THE COCK AND THE FOX.

Here we begin to indite the pleasant History which befel 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 holcus[274] and sesame and millet as chanced fall in his way; but, being careless of himself, he had left the village afar off without thinking of what he did, and ere he took counsel with himself he found him amiddlemost the wilderness. So he turned him rightwards and leftwards but espied nor friend nor familiar, whereat he stood perplext as to his affair and his breast was straitened and still he knew not what to do. Now while thus bewildered in his wits touching his next step, behold, his glance fell upon a Fox[275] who was approaching him from afar, whereat he feared and trembled and was agitated with mighty great agitation. At once he turned him about and presently espied a high wall arising from the waste, whereto was no place of ascending for his foe; so he spread his wings and flew up and perched upon the coping where he took his station. Presently the Fox came forward to the foot of the wall, and, finding no means of climbing it and getting at the fowl, he raised his head and said, “The Peace be upon thee, ho thou the soothfast brother and suitable friend!” But as the Cock would not turn towards him nor return aught of reply to his salutation, the Fox resumed, “What is to do with thee, O dear my brother, that my greeting thou acknowledgest not and to my words inclinest thee not?” Still the Cock requited not his courtesy and declined to reply, whereat the Fox resumed, “Wottest thou not, O my brother, the glad tidings wherewith I came theewards, with what suitable intelligence and counsel veridical and information at once sincere and self-evident? and, didst know what it is hath come to mine ears, verily thou hadst embraced me and kissed me on the mouth.” But the Cock feigned absence of mind and ignored him and answered him naught, but stood with rounded eyes and fixed upon the far when the Fox resumed, “O my brother, the King of the Beasts which be the Lion and the King of the Birds which be the Eagle have alighted from a journey upon the meads where grass is a-growing and by the marge where waters are a-flowing and blossoms are a-blowing and browsing gazelles are a-to-ing and a-fro-ing; and the twain have gathered together all manner of ferals, lions and hyenas, leopards and lynxes, wild cattle and antelopes and jackals and even hares, brief, all the wild beasts of the world; and they have also collected every kind of bird, eagle and vulture, crow and raven,[276] wild pigeon and turtle-dove, poultry and fowls and Katás and quails[277] and other small deer, and these two liege lords have bidden the herald proclaim, throughout the tracts of the upland wold and the wild lowland, safety and security and confraternity and peace with honour and sympathy and familiar friendship and affection and love amongst wild beasts and cattle and birds; also that enmity be done away with and wrongs be forbidden nor might one transgress against other; nay, if any chance to injure his fellow this offence might be for his scourging a reason, and for his death by tearing to pieces a justification. The order hath also come forth that all do feed and browse in one place whichever they please, never venturing to break the peace but dwelling in all amity and affection and intimacy one with other. Moreover they have commissioned me, very me, to overroam the wastes and gladden with good tidings the peoples of the wilds and proclaim that one and all without exception must assemble together, and also that whoso delayeth or refuseth obedience shall not escape punishment[278] nor let each and every fail to make act of presence and to kiss hands. And of thee, O my brother, I especially require that thou descend from thy high stead in safety and security and satisfaction, and that henceforward thy heart be not startled nor thy limbs shake for fear.” All this description was described by the Fox to the Cock who paid no heed to him as though he had never heard the news; and he remained silent without return of reply or without so much as turning to regard him; nay, he only kept his head raised and gazed afar. Hereat quoth to him the Fox (for indeed his heart burned with desire to know how he could seize and devour him), “O brother mine, why and wherefore dost thou not acknowledge me by an answer or address to me a word or even turn thy face towards me who am a Commissioner sent by Leo, Sovran of the beasts, and Aquila, Sultan of the birds? Sore I fear lest thou refuse to accompany me and thus come upon thee censure exceeding and odium excessive seeing that all are assembled in the presence and are browsing upon the verdant mead.” Then he added (as Chanticleer regarded him not), “O my brother, I bespeak thee and thou unheedest me and my speech; and, if thou refuse to fare with me, at least let me know what may be thy reply.” Hereupon the Cock inclined towards him and said, “Sooth hast thou spoken, O my brother, and well I wot thou be an Envoy and a Commissioner from our King, and the special Messenger of him: but my condition is changed by that which hath befallen me.” “And what calamity, O my brother, hath betided thee?” “Dost thou espy what I am at present espying?” “And what is it thou espiest?” “Verily, I see a dust-cloud lowering and the Saker-falcons in circles towering;” and quoth the Fox (whose heart throbbed with fear), “Look straitly, O my brother, lest there happen to us a mishap.” So Chanticleer gazed as one distraught for a full-told hour, after which he turned to the Fox and said, “O my brother, I behold and can distinguish a bird flying and a dust-trail hieing.” “Consider them narrowly, O my brother,” cried the Fox (whose side-muscles quivered), “lest this be sign of greyhound;” and the other replied, “The Truth is known to Allah alone, yet I seem now to see a something lengthy of leg, lean of flank, loose of ears, fine of forehand and full of quarter, and at this moment it draweth near and is well nigh upon us—O fine!”[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 pacification 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.

FINIS.

HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL-LET WITH THE FOWLER.

Here we begin to indite the History of what befel the Fowl-let from the Fowler.[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 Holdfast[282] and my patronymic is Bindfast and my tribe is hight the Sons of Fallfast.” Replied the Birdie, “Sooth thou sayest; for such name is truly thy name and such bye-name is without question thy bye-name nor is there any doubt of thy tribe being the noblest of the tribes.” The Trap answered him saying, “Alhamdolillah—laud to the Lord—that me thou hast recognised and that I be of thy truest friends thou hast acknowledged, for where shalt thou find a familiar like unto me, a lover soothful and truthful and my fellow in mind? And indeed I a devotee of religious bent and from vain gossip and acquaintances and even kith and kin abstinent; nor have I any retreat save upon the heads of hills and in the bellies of dales which be long and deep; and from mundane tidings I am the true Holdfast and in worldly joys the real Bindfast.” The Fowl replied, “Sooth hast spoken, O my lord; and all hail to thee; how pious and religious and of morals and manners gracious art thou? Would to Heaven I were a single hair upon thy body.” Rejoined the Trap, “Thou in this world art my brother and in the next world my father;” and the other retorted, “O my brother, fain would I question thee concerning matters concealed within thy thoughts;” whereto the Trap, “Enquire of whatso thou requirest, that I make manifest to thee what in heart thou desirest; for I will truly declare to thee mine every aim and disclose to thee soothly all my case and my thoughts concealed, nor shall remain unrevealed of mine intent aught.” So the Birdie began, “O my brother, why and wherefore see I thee on this wise abiding in the dust and dwelling afar from relations and companeers and thou hast parted from thy family and peers and hast departed from the fondness of thy dears?” “Hast thou not learned, O my brother,” answered the Trap, “that retirement is permanent heal and farness from folk doth blessings deal and separation from the world is bodily weal;” and on this matter hath one of the poets said, and said right well:—

Fly folk, in public ne’er appearing, ✿ And men shall name thee man God-fearing;[283]

Nor say I’ve brother, mate and friend: ✿ Try men with mind still persevering:

Yea, few are they as thou couldst wish: ✿ Scorpions they prove when most endearing.[284]

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; nor 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 parents 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?—

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.”

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:—

None save the pious Youth gains boon of Paradise ✿ (To whom the Lord doth pardon crime and sin and vice),

Whose back by constant prayer through murk o’ night is bent ✿ And longs to merit Heaven in sore and painful guise.

Hail to the slave who ever would his lord obey ✿ And who by death is saved when he obedient dies.”

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

Folk who in fear of long accompt[289] for naught of worldly care ✿ Hail to them! haply garb of wool they’ll change for silken wear:

In life for provaunt shall suffice them salt and barley-bread ✿ Who seek th’ Almighty Lord and bow the head in sedulous pray’r.”

The Birdie resumed, “In very deed thy speech the sooth doth teach; but say me what be this staff[290] thou hendest in hand?” Replied the Trap, “O my brother, know that I have become an olden man well shotten in years and my strength is minished, wherefor I have taken me a staff that I may prop me thereon and that it aid my endeavour when a-fasting.” The Fowl-let pursued, “Thy speech is true, O my brother, and thou speakest as due, yet would I ask thee of a matter nor refuse me information thereanent: tell me why and wherefore this plenty of grain scattered all about thee?” The Trap answered, “Indeed the merchants and men of wealth bring to me this victual that I may bestow it in charity upon the Fakir and the famisht;” and the Birdie rejoined, “O my brother, I also am an-hungered; so dost thou enjoin me to eat thereof?” “Thou art my companion,” cried the Trap, “so upon me such injunction is a bounden duty,” presently adding, “Be so kind, O my brother, and haste thee hither and eat.” Hereat the Fowl-let flew down from off his tree and approaching little by little (with a heart beating for fear of the Trap) picked up a few grains which lay beside it until he came to the corn set in the loop of the springe. Hereupon he pecked at it with one peck nor had he gained aught of good therefrom ere the Trap came down heavily upon him and entangled his neck and held him fast. Hereupon he was seized with a fit of sore affright and he cried out “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 kennest 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 veridique 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:—

“O Birder, my mother’s in misery ✿ And blind with weeping my loss is she.

I suffice not thy guest nor can serve for gift: ✿ Have ruth and compassion and set me free!

With my parents I’ll bless thee and then will I ✿ Fly a-morn and at e’en-tide return to thee.”

Presently resumed he, “Seest thou not how my meat be mean and my maw be lean; nor verily can I stand thee in stead of cate nor thy hunger satiate: so fear Allah and set me at liberty then shall the Almighty requite thee with an abundant requital.” But the Fowler far from heeding his words, made him over to his son saying, “O my child, take this bird and faring homewards slaughter him and of him cook for us a cumin-ragout and a lemon-stew, a mess flavoured with verjuice and a second of mushrooms and a third with pomegranate seeds and a fourth of clotted curd[295] cooked with Summák,[296] and a fine fry and eke conserves of pears[297] and quinces and apples and apricots hight the rose-water and vermicelli[298] and Sikbáj;[299] and meat dressed with the six leaves and a porridge[300] and a rice-milk, and an ’Ajíjíyah[301] 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:—

“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:

From Solomon’s breed, O my God I have hope: ✿ If he kill me the Ruthful his drowning[303] decree.”

Then quoth the Fowl to the Fowler, “An thou design to slaughter me in thy greed even as thou hast described, verily I shall avail thee naught, but an thou work my weal and set me free I will show thee somewhat shall profit thee and further the fortunes of thy sons’ sons and thy latest descendants.” “What is that direction thou wouldst deal to me?” asked the Fowler, and answered the Fowl-let, “I will teach a trio of words all-wise and will discover to thee in this earth a Hoard wherewith thou and thy seed and posterity shall ever be satisfied and shall ever pray for the lengthening of my years. Moreover I will point out to thee a pair of Falcons ashen-grey, big of body and burly of bulk, who are to me true friends and whom thou didst leave in the gardens untrapped.” Asked the Birder, “And what be the three words which so savour of wisdom?” and answered the other, “O Fowler, the three words of wisdom are:—Bemourn not what is the past nor at the future rejoice too fast nor believe aught save that whereon thy glance is cast. But as regards the Hoard and the two Falcons, when thou shalt have released me I will point them out to thee and right soon to thee shall be shown the sooth of whatso I have said to thee.” Hereat the Birder’s heart became well affected towards 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, “Alack and alas! never saw I thy like for an ass nor aught than thyself meaner of capacity nor mightier of imbecility; for indeed thou carriest 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 improvise and repeat:—

“When Fortune easy was, from duty[304] didst forbear ✿ Nor from that malady[305] hast safety or repair:

Then blame thyself nor cast on other wight[306] the fault ✿ And lacking all excuse to death of misery fare!”

Then resumed the Fowl-let, “Woe to thee, O mean and mesquin, thou wottedst not that which thou hast lost in me, for indeed baulked is thy bent and foiled is thy fortune and near to thee is poverty and nigh to thee is obscurity. Hadst thou when taking me cut my throat and cloven my crop thou hadst found therein a jewel the weight of an ounce which I picked up and swallowed from the treasury of 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 pine[307] and with me thou shalt tarry in highmost degree?” Replied the Birdie, “O miserable, past is that which passed; I mean, suffice me not thy fraud and thy flattering falsehood. And laud to the Lord, O thou meanest of men, how soon hast thou forgotten the three charges wherewith I charged thee! And how short are thy wits seeing that the whole of me weighteth not ten drachms[308] and how then can I bear in crop a jewel weighing an ounce? How far from thee is subtilty and how speedily hast thou forgotten mine injunctions wherewith I enjoined thee saying:—Believe not aught save that whereon thine eye is cast nor regret and bemourn the past nor at what cometh rejoice too fast. These words of wisdom are clean gone from thy memory, and hadst thou been nimble of wits thou hadst slaughtered me forthright: however, Alhamdolillah—Glory to God, who caused me not to savour the whittle’s sharp edge, and I thank my Lord for my escape and for the loosing of my prosperity from the trap of trouble.” Now when the Birder heard these words of the Birdie he repented and regretted his folly, and he cried, “O my sorrow for what failed me of the slaughter of this volatile, and as he sank on the ground he sang:—[309]

“O brave was the boon which I held in my right ✿; Yet, O Maker of man, ’twas in self-despight.

Had my lot and my luck been of opulence, ✿ This emptiness never had proved my plight.”

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

“I charged you, O brood of my nestlings, and said, ✿ Ware yon Wady, nor seek to draw near a stead

Where sitteth a man who with trap and with stakes ✿ Entrapped me, drew knife and would do me dead.

And he longed to destroy me, O children, but I ✿ Was saved by the Lord and to you was sped.”

And here endeth the History of the

Fowl-let and the Fowler
entire and complete.

M.

TALE OF ATTAF.

Here we begin to write and indite the Tale of a man of Syria, Attaf hight.[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 Shám[311] there dwelt of old a man Attáf hight, who rivalled Hátim of Tayy[312] in his generosity and his guest-love and in his self-control as to manners and morals. Now he lived in the years when the Caliph Harun al-Rashid was reigning in Baghdad-city, and it happened on a day of the days that this Commander of the Faithful awoke morne and melancholic, and right straitened was his breast. So he arose, and taking Ja’afar the Barmecide and Masrúr the Eunuch passed with them into the place where his treasures were stored. Presently quoth he to the Wazir, “O Ja’afar, 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. Then he 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 disjunction 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 Marj[317] 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 while[319] after which Attaf arose and led Ja’afar to his house companied by all the company which was there and they paced into a spacious open hall and seated themselves in converse for an hour full-told. Anon the slaves brought them 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[320] drank coffee; 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 office[322] and told him the reasons of his ride to Damascus from the beginning to the end full and detailed, whereto Attaf rejoined, “Tarry with me an thou please a decade of years; and grieve not at all, for thy Worship is owner of this place.” After this the eunuchs came in and spread for Ja’afar bedding delicately wrought at the head of the hall and its honour-stead, and disposed other sleeping-gear alongside thereof, which seeing the Wazir said to himself, “Haply my host is a bachelor, that they would spread his bed by 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 Harim 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 Harim 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 he 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 with 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 stone[327] set in the ground. Hereon he took seat to rest a while, and he looked about, when behold, fronting him were latticed windows wherein stood cases planted with sweet-smelling herbs.[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[330] 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 mid-forenoon.” “O my brother, I have no Kayf,”[331] replied Ja’afar. So the host forthwith sent a white slave to summon a physician, and the man did his bidding, and after a short delay brought one who was the preventer[332] 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:[333] say me what aileth thee?” “All is excitement[334] 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.[335] Noting 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 wanted 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 prescription?” “Yes,” answered the Leach, “I have written it and set it under his head.” Thereupon the host pulled out a piastre[336] 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,[337] “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 are Allah’s and unto Him shall we return!” But presently he regained himself in the nobility of his nature, and he continued, “O Ja’afar, thine intent is pure for that the dame thou sawest yesterday was divorced by her husband; and I will straightway fare to her father and bespeak him to the end that none may lay hand upon her; and then will I return and let thee ken all concerning her.” So saying he arose and went at once to his cousin-wife[338] 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,[339] 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.[340] Furthermore an occasion befel and this oath fell from my mouth and I bade her be the owner of herself.[341] And now will I beweep the past and straightway set her free.” So saying he wrote a writ of repudiation and returning to Ja’afar said, “From early dawn I have wearied myself[342] for thy sake and have so acted that no man can lay hand upon her. And at last thou mayst now enjoy life and go to the gardens and the Hammams and take thy pleasure until the days of her widowhood[343] 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.”[344] Then he fell to taking him every day amongst the crowd of pleasure-seekers and solacing him with a show of joyous spectacles[345] 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 Marwán[346] 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 bât-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 writ and despatched 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 Kapújí[347] entered Damascus and read out the Wazirial letter[348] announcing Ja’afar’s return from Egypt. Hereat the Governor arose and after sending a present of provisions[349] 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.”[350] 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.[351] At the time appointed the Minister took horse escorted by the Governor and the Grandees, and they brought out the mule-litter[352] wherein was the bride, and the procession rode onwards until they had reached the Dome of the Birds,[353] 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.”[354] 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 befel 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 his 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?”[355] 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 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[356]?” pursued the Governor; and they said, “In his senses.” Then quoth the Governor to the Mufti, “O Efendi, deliver me thine official decision according to that thou heardest from the accused’s mouth;” and the Judge pronounced and indited his sentence upon the criminal according to his confession. Hereupon the Governor gave order for his slaves to plunder the house and bastinado the owner; then he called for the headsman, but the Notables interfered and cried, “Give him a delay, for thou hast no right to slay him without further evidence; and better send him to gaol.” Now all Damascus was agitated and excited by this affair, which came upon the folk so suddenly and unforeseen. And Attaf’s friends[357] 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, “And 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 live until the morrow; but I have been thwarted and this very night I will send and have him strangled.” Hereupon he returned him 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 spake as follows, “Why talk after such fashion? I am resolved to set thee free and to ransom thee with my life; and at this very moment I will strike off thy chains and deliver thee from him. But do thou arise and tear my face and pluck out my beard and rend my raiment; then, after thrusting a gag[358] into my mouth wend thy ways and save thy life and leave me to bear all blame.”[359] 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 befel 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 recognised, came upon me and ere I was ware of them they broke down the prison door and killed me;[360] 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)[361] 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 that 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 indited an address to Ja’afar informing him of all that passed from first to last, and especially of his own foul plight.[362] 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;[363] 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, biddeth decorate the city for seven days.” Hereat the attendant, 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-to, while sundry said to Attaf who was in pauper plight, “Come and eat thou;” for it was a popular feast.[364] 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 eunuchs who cried, “Arise and gang thy 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 compliments[365] and the tent-pitchers, who were sent on to the next station set up the pavilion of the bride and the other tents. Ja’afar took patience until every eye however wakeful waxed sleep-full, at which time he rose up and went in to Attaf’s wife who, the moment she saw him enter, covered her face with her hands as from a stranger. “The Peace be upon thee!” said he and said she, “With thee also be The Peace and the ruth of Allah and His blessings.” Then he continued, “O daughter of my father’s brother[366] 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 honourable 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.[367] However I will bear thee to Baghdad where I will stablish thee in a spacious and well furnished lodging with ten slave girls and eunuchs to serve thee; and, as long as thou abide with me, I will give thee[368] every day five golden ducats and every month a suit of sumptuous clothes. Moreover everything in thy lodging shall be thine; and whatever gifts and offerings be made to thee they shall be thy property, for the folk will fancy thee to be my bride and will entertain thee and escort thee to the Hammams and present thee with sumptuous dresses. After this fashion thou shalt pass thy days in joyance and thou shalt abide with me in highmost honour and esteem and worship till what time we see that can be done. So from this moment forth[369] 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 befal 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 Takhtrawán 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 dinars 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 befel 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,[370] 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 farewelled 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 Háshimí?”[371] 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 Wazir for official order to carry out the sentence and the Minister took the document and affixing his seal and signature thereto gave 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 Sobáshí[372] who came up to him and kissed his knee. “What is the object of this gathering of folk who be manifold as the dust and what do they want?” quoth the Wazir; and quoth the officer, “We are wending to hang[373] 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 recognised 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 guest.[374] “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 they drank wine and ate the early meal[375] 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 Abd al-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 marvellous 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 in 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 whatso 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 thee?” 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 him the price thereof, all my slaves and estates in fullest tale and most complete. Moreover deign thou appoint him inspector over the Governor of Syria[376] 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,[377] 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.

M.

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 5¾ 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,[378] and praise be to God the One.” Thus (A.H. 1096 = A.D. 1685) the volume is upwards of 200 years old. It was bought by Mr. Cotheal many years ago with other matters among the effects of a deceased American missionary who had brought it from Syria.

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

THE TALE OF ATTAF
BY
ALEXANDER J. COTHEAL.

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 NAIB 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 NAIB WHO IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH, BUT IS AFTERWARDS EXILED.

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

They say God is omniscient, knowing the past and the future, and we learn from the histories of the peoples that there was in ancient times and bygone seasons (and God knows best!) a Caliph of the Caliphs of 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:—

A Noria that discharges by the spouts of her tears resembles the actions of a distracted lover:

She is the lover of her branches (sweeps or levers) by the magic in her heart until she laughs:

She complains and the tears run from her eyes, she rises in the morning to find herself weeping and complaining.

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

My favorite is a damsel dispensing drink, and my recreation is a running stream;

A damsel whose eyes are a garden of Paradise, and a garden whose springs make a running brook.

Then again said Harun er-Rashid, O Mesrur, such is not my wish, and Mesrur replied, O Commander of the Faithful, in thy palace are three hundred and sixty damsels, they are thy concubines and thy slaves, and they are as if they were rising moons and beautiful gazelles, and in elegant robes they are dressed like the flowers. Walk around in the midst of the palaces and from thy hiding-place see each of them enter by herself in her own apartment admiring her beauty and her magnificent dresses, all showing their joy and mirth since they will not know of thee; then listen to their singing and their playing and their joyous company in their apartments and perhaps you’ll attach yourself to one of them who’ll play with thee, keep thee awake and be thy cup-companion, dispelling what may remain of thy restlessness. But he replied, O Mesrur, bring to me my cousin Ja’afar the Barmeky immediately. So he answered, Hearing is obedience. Then Mesrur went out to the house of Ja’afar and said to him, Come to the Commander of the Faithful, and he answered, To hear is to obey. Then Ja’afar dressed himself and went with Mesrur to the Caliph and kissing the ground before him he said, May it be good! O Commander of the Faithful. It is not other than good, he answered, but I am wearied this night with a great weariness and I sent for you to divert me so that my unrest may be dissipated. Then Ja’afar said, Let’s get up, O Commander of the Faithful, and we’ll go out into the garden of the palace and listen to the warbling of the birds and smell of the odours of the flowers, and the cool zephyr with its gentle breath will pass over us, dispelling our uneasiness and gladdening the heart. The Rawi says that Ja’afar was very familiar with the Caliph by reason of the endearment between them. Then the Caliph arose and with Ja’afar and Mesrur went to the garden. The Caliph began to be thoughtful and asked about the trees and the qualities of the flowers and the fruits and the nature of their colours, and as the Caliph took pleasure in that, he walked around for an hour and then passed over to the palaces and houses, going from place to place, from quarter to quarter, and from market to market; and, whilst they were going on, they stopped before a book-shop 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: 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 one single hour, but He did so for an instruction to his worshippers that one should not fault with another but be patient; then, O Lord, be thou patient with thy servant if it be for three days only; and the Caliph replied to him, If thou bringest not to me him whom I have mentioned I will slay thee with the most horrible of deaths. At this Ja’afar said, I depart on thy mission; thereupon Ja’afar went home with a sorrowful heart to his father Yahya and his brother El-Fadl to take leave of them and weep. Then they said to him, What is thy trouble? so he told them of what had occurred between him and the Caliph and of the condition laid upon him of execution if not complied with in three days, for doubtless the Caliph seeks my death; he who strikes against a point, ’twill pierce his hand, and he that struggles with a lion will be killed; but as to myself I can no longer remain with him for that would be the greatest of dangers for me and for thee, O my father, and for thee, O my brother. I now set out to travel and I wish to go far away from his eye. The preservation of life is not esteemed and is of little value: distance is the best preservative for our necks—as is said by the poet:—

Save your life if menaced by evil (danger), and leave the house to complain of the builder:

You’ll find a land upon a land, but not another life for your own life.

When he had finished, his father and his brother said to him, Do not do so, for probably the Caliph will be merciful to you. And Ja’afar answered, Only good will come of my travel. Then he went to his treasure-room and took out a purse containing 1,000 dinars, mounted his horse, put on his sword, bade adieu to his father and brother and set forth in his time and hour; then, not taking with him any servants, either slave or boy, he hastened on his journey, travelling day and night for twenty days until he reached the city of Aleppo without stopping, passing by Hamah and Homs until he reached 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:—

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:—

Blessed be the wonders that glitter on thy roofs (expanse).

She was also called Sham (grain of beauty) because she is the Sham of Cities and the Sham of God on earth. Ja’afar was pleased at the explanation of the name, and dismounted with the intention of taking a stroll through the streets, by the great houses and the domes (mosks). Whilst thus engaged in examining the various places and their beauties, he perceived a tent of silk brocade called 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:—

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?)

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

With these sentiments thou art in love, it is not wonderful that I should love 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.

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 the moment when the youth was rising upon his feet, and he stretched out his two hands and saluted him as if he had always known him, and after he had chanted the prayer to the envoy (of Allah) he sang:—

O my visitor be welcome, thou enlivenest us and bringest us our union:

By thy face I live when it appears and I die if it disappears.

Then he said to Ja’afar, Please be seated, my dear sir; thanks be to God for your happy arrival; and he continued his chant after another prayer to the envoy (of 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 our cheeks that thy coming might have been between our eyelids.

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

A visitor of whom the sight is venerated by all, sweeter than either spirit or 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.

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

Worry not thyself for things that are to come, drive away your cares by the intoxicating bowl:

See you not that hands have painted beautiful flowers on the robes of drink?

Spoils of the vine-branch, lilies and narcissus, and the violet and the striped flower of N’uman:

If troubles overtake you, lull them to sleep with liquors and flowers and favourites.

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

The youth ordered the servants to bring up the horses and they presented to his guest a mare fit for Kings. We mounted (said Ja’afar), and, entering Damascus, I proceeded to look at the bazars and the streets until we came to a large square in the middle of which were two mastabas or stone benches before a high doorway brilliantly illuminated with divers lights, and before a 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:—

Society became perfectly brilliant in its beauty and shone in the éclat 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:—

My jealous regard is attached to him and if he regard another I am impatient:

I terminate my demand and my song crying, Thy friendship will last until death in my heart.

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

O bounty of our Night in the valley of Rabwat where the gentle zephyr brings in her perfumes:

It is a valley whose beauty is like that of the necklace: trees and flowers encompass it.

Its fields are carpeted with every variety of flowers and the birds fly around above them;

When the trees saw us seated beneath them they dropped upon us their fruits.

We continued to exchange upon the borders of its gardens the flowing bowls of conversation and of poesy,

The valley was bountiful and her zephyrs brought to us what the flowers had sent to us.

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

I consume (with desire) when I hear from him a discourse whose sweetness is a melting speech:

My heart palpitates when he sees it, it is not wonderful that the drunken one should dance:

It has on this earth become my portion, but on this earth I have no chance to obtain it.

O Lord! tell me the fault that I’ve committed, perhaps I may be able to correct it.

I find in thee a heart harder than that of others and the hearts consume my being.

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 entertained 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 friends, 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 Mosk of the ’Omeyyades where I saw a fountain casting the water from its upper part and falling like serpents in their flight. I sat down under the pulpit; and as it was a Friday I heard the preacher and made my Friday prayer and remained until I made the afternoon prayer when I went to distribute the money I had, after which I recited these verses:—

I see the beauties united in the mosk of Jullag, and around her the meaning of beauty is explained;

If people converse in the mosks tell them their entrance door is open.

Then I left the mosk and began to promenade the quarters and the streets until I came before a splendid house, broad in its richness and strong in its build, having a border of gold astonishing the mind by the beauty of the work, showing curtains of silk embroidered with gold and in front of the door were two carpeted steps. I sat down upon one of them and began to think of myself and of the events that had happened to me and of my ignorance of what had taken place after my departure. In the midst of my sadness at the contemplation of my troubles (and the wind blowing upon me) I fell asleep and I awaked not until a sprinkling of water came down upon me. On opening my eyes I saw a young woman behind the curtain dressed in a morning gown and a Sa’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:—

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.

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

Dost thou see through her veil that face appearing how it shines, like the moon in the horizon?

Its splendour enlightens the shade of her temples and the sun enters into obscurity by system;

Her forehead eclipses the rose and the apple, and her look and expression enchant the people;

It is she that if mortal should see her he’d become victim of love, of the fires of desire.

On hearing this recitation the young lady said to Ja’afar, Miserable fellow, what is this discourse which does not belong to the like of thee? Get up and begone with the malediction of Allah and the protection of Satan. Ja’afar arose, seized with a mighty rage in addition to his love; and in this love for her he departed and returned to the house of his friend Attaf and saluted him with a prepossessed heart. As soon as Attaf saw him he cast himself on his breast and kissed him between the eyes, saying to him, O my lord, thou hast made me feel desolate to-day by thine absence. Then Attaf, looking in the face of Ja’afar and reading in it many words, continued to him, O my lord, I find thy countenance changed and thy mind broken. Ja’afar answered, O my lord, since I left thee up to the present time I have been suffering with a headache and a nervous attack for I was sleeping upon my ear. The people in the mosk recited the afternoon prayer without my knowing it, and now I have a mind to get an hour’s sleep, probably I shall find repose for the body, and what I suffer will pass off. Accordingly, Attaf went into the house and ordered cushions to be brought out and a bed to be made for him, Ja’afar then stretched himself upon it depressed and out of spirits, and covering himself up began to think of the young lady and of the offensive words she gave him so contrary to usage. Also he thought 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:—

A doctor came to me one day and took my hand and pulse, when I said to him Let go my hand, the fire’s in my heart.

He said, Drink syrup of the rose and mix it well with water of the tongue but tell it not to anyone:

I said, The syrup of the rose is quite well known to me; it is the water of the cheek that breaks my very heart;

But can it be that I can get the water of the tongue that I may cool the burning fire that within me dwells?

The doctor said, Thou art in love, I said Yes to him, and said he to me, Its remedy is to have the body here.

Then when Attaf went in to him after the end of the recitation he sat down at the head of the bed and asked him about his condition and what had been prescribed 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 out 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 the 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 the 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 favoured 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 guest-house 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 divert 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 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:—

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.

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 forward 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 thousand 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 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 was answered, O scoundrel, thou art an ignorant fellow of the rabble, dost dispute with the Naïb 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 crowd 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 Orontes 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:—

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

Then Attaf went to a paper-seller and got from him a piece of paper and borrowed an inkstand and wrote as follows:—From thy brother Attaf whom God knoweth. Let him who hath possessed the world not flatter himself, he will some day be cast down and will lose it in his bitter fate. If thou see me thou wilt not recognise me for my poverty and my misery; and, because of the change in situation and the reverses of the times, my soul and body are reduced by hunger, by the long journey I have made, until at last I have come to thee. And peace be with thee. Then he folded the paper and returning the pen-case 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 embarrassed, an eunuch dressed in a striped robe and golden belt passed by him. Attaf remained motionless before him, then went up to him, kissed his hands and said to him, O my lord, the Apostle of Allah (upon whom be peace and salutation) hath said, The medium of a good deed is like him who did it, and he who did it belongeth to the dwellers in heaven. The man said to him, What is thy need? and said he, I desire of thy goodness to send in this paper to thy lord and say to him, Thy brother Attaf is standing at the door. When the servant heard his words he got into a great and excessive rage so that his eyes swelled in his head and he asked, O cursed one, thou art then the brother of the Wazir Ja’afar! and as he had in his hand a rod with a golden end, he struck Attaf with it in the face and his blood flowed and he fell full length to the ground in his weakness from weeping and from receiving the blow. The Rawi says that God hath placed the instinct of good in the heart of some domestics, even as he hath placed that of evil in the heart of others. Another of the domestics was raised up against his companion by good will to Attaf and reproved him for striking the stranger and was answered, Didst thou not hear, O brother, that he pretended to be the brother of the Wazir Ja’afar? and the second one said, O man of evil, son of evil, slave of evil, O cursed one, O hog! is Ja’afar one of the prophets? is he not a dog of the earth like ourselves? Men are all brethren, of one father and one mother, of Adam and of Eve; and the poet hath said:—

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

but certain people are preferable to others. Then he came up to Attaf and made him be seated and wiped off the blood from his face and washed him and shook off the dust that was upon him and said, O my brother, what is thy need? and said he, My need is the sending of this paper to Ja’afar. The servant took the paper from his hand and going in to Ja’afar the Barmeky found there the officers of the Governor and the Barmekys standing at his service on his right and on his left; and Ja’afar the Wazir who held in his hand a cup of wine was reciting poetry and playing and saying, O you all here assembled, the absent from the eye is not like the present in the heart; he is my brother and my friend and my benefactor, Attaf of Damascus, who was continuous in his generosity and his bounty and his benefactions 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 repaid Him in disobedience; but I pray to Him for pardon for having gone too far in my debauchery. Then he recited these verses:—

O God! the worshipper doth what he should not do; he is poor, depending on Thee:

In the pleasures of life he forgetteth himself, in his ignorance, pardon Thou his faults.

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 the 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:—

O friend, I’ve run o’er the world west and east; all that I met with was pain and fatigue:

I’ve frequented the men of the age, but never have found e’en a friend grateful not even to me.

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

This age, must it make me its victim, and thou at the same time art living: wolves are seeking to devour me while thou the lion art here.

Every thirsty one that cometh his thirst is quenched by thee: can it be that I thirst while thou art still our refuge?

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

Troubles, poverty and distant sojourn far away from the dear ones, and a crushing desire to see them:

The soul is in them, they became like their fellows, thus the enigma remains in the world;

While the generous is stricken with misfortune and grief, where’s the miser that finds not good fortune therein?

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

Good for good, to the giver the merit remains; evil for evil, the doer’s most cruel.

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 Rawi 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 Naib, 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 Naib, 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-Rashíd contented himself with commuting the sentence to banishment. Attaf governed his people many years with justice and prosperity, protector of his happy subjects and in the enjoyment of the delights and pleasures of life, until the Angel of Death overtook him and summoned him to Paradise.

HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB
AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH
THE LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.

Here we begin to indite the History of Sultan Habib and of what befel him with Durrat al-Ghawwas.[379]

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 Hilál[380] whose head men were the Emir Hilál and the Emir Salámah.[381] 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;[382] 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.[383] And as time went on his sire rejoiced in him with joy exceeding and reared him with fairest rearing and bade them teach him Koran-reading together with the glorious names of Almighty Allah and instruct him in writing and in all the arts and sciences. After this he bestowed robes of honour and gifts of money and raiment upon the teachers who had made the Sultan[384] Habib, when he reached the age of seventeen, the most intelligent and penetrating and knowing amongst the sons of his time. And indeed men used to admire at the largeness of his understanding and were wont to say in themselves, “There is no help but that this youth shall rise to dignity (and what dignity!) whereof men of highmost intellect shall make loud mention. For he could write the seven caligraphs[385] and he could recite traditions and he could improvise poetry; and, on one occasion when his father bade him versify impromptu, that he might see what might come thereof, he intoned:—

“O my sire, I am lord of all lere man knows or knew— ✿ Have enformed my vitals with lore and with legend true;

Nor cease I repeat what knowledge this memory guards ✿ And my writ as ruby and pearl doth appear to view.”

So the Emir Salamah his sire marvelled at the elegance of his son’s diction; and the Notables of the clan, after hearing his poetry and his prose, stood astounded at their excellence; and presently the father clasped his child to his breast and forthright summoned his governor, to whom there and then he did honour of the highmost. Moreover he largessed him with four camels carrying loads of gold and silver and he set him over one of his subject tribes of the Arabs; then said he to him, “Indeed thou hast done well, O Shaykh; so take this good and fare therewith to such a tribe and rule it with justice and equity until the day of thy death.” Replied the governor, “O King of the Age, I may on no wise accept thy boons, for that I am not of mankind but of Jinn-kind; nor have I need of money or requirement of rule. Know thou, O my lord, that erst I sat as Kázi amongst the Jinns and I was enthroned amid the Kings of the Jánn, whenas one night of the nights a Voice[386] 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.”[387] 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!”[388] Those present in the assembly at once asked saying:—

“And what shall, O Shaykh, to us fall forthright? ✿ Quoth he, ‘Sore marvels shall meet your sight’:

No heart have I to describe it you”. ✿ Then approached Habib the same tutor-wight;

And clasping the youth to the breast of him, ✿ Kissed his cheek a-shrieking the shrillest shright.[389]

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

“Indeed I am scourged by those ills whereof I felt affray, ah! ✿ By parting and thoughts which oft compelled my soul to say, ‘Ah!’

Oh saddest regret in vitals of me that ne’er ceaseth, nor ✿ Shall minished be his love that still on my heart doth prey, ah!

Where hath hied the generous soul my mind with lere adorned? ✿ And alas! what hath happened, O sire, to me, and well-away, ah!”

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

“Indeed this pine in my heart grows high, ✿ And in eyeballs wake doth my sleep outvie:

You marched, O my lords, and from me hied far ✿ And you left a lover shall aye outcry:

I wot not where on this earth you be ✿ And how long this patience when none is nigh:

Ye fared and my eyeballs your absence weep, ✿ And my frame is meagre, my heart is dry.”

Now whilst the Emir Salamah was sitting in his seat of dignity and the Sultan Habib was improvising poetry and shedding tears in presence of his sire, they heard a Voice which announced itself and its sound was audible whilst its personality was invisible. Thereupon the youth shed tears and cried, “O father mine, I need one who shall teach me horsemanship and the accidents of edge and point and onset and offset and spearing and spurring in the 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 Dáúd[390] the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!) Moreover he hent in hand a mace erst a block cut out of the live hard rock, whose shock would arrest forty braves of the doughtiest; and he was baldrick’d with an Indian blade that quivered in the grasp, and he bestrode, with a Samhari[391] 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 afoot or were seated. His salute they repeated 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 lance[392] 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;[393] nay, my sole object was my son to incite that he might learn battle and combat aright, and the charge of the heroic Himyarite[394] 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,[395] 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[396].” 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-Abbus, “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 Sharífs[397] and Grandees hath flocked to woo her, bringing wealthy gifts and noble presents, yet hath not any of them won his wish of her but all returned baffled and baulked of their will.” Now the Sultan Habib hearing this from him cried in excess of perturbation and stress of confusion, “Up with us and hie we home where we may take seat and talk over such troublous matter and debate anent its past and its future.” “Hearkening and obedience,” rejoined the other; so the twain retired into privacy in order to converse at ease concerning the Princess, and Al-Abbus began to relate in these words—

THE HISTORY OF DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.

Whilome there was a Sovran amongst the Kings of the Sea, hight Sábúr, who reigned over the Crystalline Isles,[398] 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 ’Atrús[399] 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 lot[400] of Durrat al-Ghawwas, the child of Kamar al-Zaman, daughter to King ’Atrus by her husband King Sabur. But as regards the Sultan Habib and his governor Al-Abbus, the twain ceased not wandering from place to place in search of the promised damsel until one day of the days when the youth entered his father’s garden and strolled the walks adown amid the borders[401] and blossoms of basil and of rose full blown and solaced himself with the works of the Compassionate One and enjoyed the scents and savours of the flowers there bestrown; and, while thus employed, behold, he suddenly espied the maiden, Durrat al-Ghawwas hight, entering therein as she were the moon; and naught could be lovelier than she of all earth supplies, gracious as a Huriyah of the Virgins of Paradise, to whose praise no praiser could avail on any wise. But when the Sultan Habib cast upon her his eyes he could no longer master himself and his wits were bewildered from the excitement of his thoughts; so he regarded her with a long fixed look and said in himself, “I fear whenas she see me that she will vanish from my sight.” Accordingly, he retired and clomb the branches of a tree in a stead where he could not be seen and whence he could see her at his ease. But as regards the Princess, she ceased not to roam about the Emir Salamah’s garden until there approached her two score of snow-white birds each accompanied by a handmaid of moon-like beauty. Presently they settled upon the ground and stood between her hands saying, “Peace be upon thee, O our Queen and Sovran Lady.” She replied, “No welcome to you and no greeting; say me, what delayed you until this hour when ye know that I am longing to meet the Sultan Habib, the dear one, son of Salamah, and I long to visit him for that he is the dearling of my heart. Wherefor I bade you accompany me and ye obeyed not, and haply ye have made mock of me and of my commandment.” “We never gainsay thy behest,” replied they, “or in word or in deed;” and they fell to seeking her beloved. Hearing this the Sultan Habib’s heart was solaced and his mind was comforted and his thoughts were rightly directed and his soul was reposed; and when he was certified of her speech, he was minded to appear before her; but suddenly fear of her prevailed over him and he said to his thoughts, “Haply she will order one of the Jinns to do me die; so ’twere better to have patience and see what Allah shall purpose for me of His Almighty will.” But the Princess and her attendants ceased not wandering about the garden from site to site and side to side till they reached the place wherein the Sultan Habib lay in lurking; when Durrat al-Ghawwas there stood still and said in herself, “Now I came not from my capital save on his account, and I would see and be seen by him even as the Voice informed me of him, O ye handmaidens; and peradventure hath the same informed him of me.” Then the Princess and her suite, drawing still nearer to his place of concealment, found a lakelet in the Arab’s garden brimful of water amiddlemost whereof stood a brazen lion, through whose mouth the water entered to issue from his tail. Hereat the Princess marvelled and said to her bondswomen, “This be none other than a marvellous lake, together with the lion therein; and when, by the goodwill of Almighty Allah, I shall have returned home I will let make a lakelet after this fashion, and in it set a lion of brass.” Thereupon she ordered them to doff their dress and go down to the piece of water and swim about; but they replied, “O our lady, to hear is to obey thy commandment, but we will not strip nor swim save with thee.” Then she also did off her dress and all stripped themselves and entered the lakelet in a body, whereupon the Sultan Habib looked through the leaves to solace himself with the fair spectacle and he ejaculated, “Blessed be the Lord the best of Creators!” And when the handmaids waxed aweary of swimming, the Princess commanded them to come forth the water, and said “Whenas Heaven willeth that the desire of my heart be fulfilled in this garden, what deem ye I should do with my lover?” and quoth they, “’Twould only add to our pleasure and gladness.” Quoth she, “Verily my heart assureth me that he is here and hidden amongst the trees of yon tangled brake;” and she made signs with her hand whither Habib lay in lurking-place; and he, espying this, rejoiced with joy galore than which naught could be more, and exclaimed, “There is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great: what meaneth this lady? Indeed, I fear to stay in this stead lest she come hither and draw me forth and put me to shame; and ’twere better that of mine own accord I come out of my concealment and accost her and suffer her to do all she designeth and desireth.” So he descended from the topmost of the tree wherein he had taken refuge and presented himself before the Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas, who drew near and cried to him, “O Habib, O welcome to Habib! and is it thus that we have travailed with love of thee and longing for thee, and where hast thou been all this time, O my dearling, and O coolth of my eyes and O slice of my liver?” Replied he, “I was in the head of yonder huge tree to which thou pointedst with thy finger.” And as they looked each at other she drew nearer to him and fell to improvising:—

“Thou hast doomed me, O branchlet of 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!”

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 winedraughts 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 sultanat.” “What then is thy say and what thy bidding?” enquired she, and he replied, “Thou hast none other way save departure from this place and return to thy realm.” Now when these words reached the ear of Durrat al-Ghawwas, her breast was straitened and she waxed sorrowful with exceeding sorrow for severance from her lover whom she addressed in these words, “What sayest thou anent that thou hast heard? In very sooth I desire not parting from thee and the ruin of my reign as little do I design; so come with me, O dearling of my heart, and I will make thee liege lord over the Isles of the Sea and sole master thereof.” Hereat the Sultan Habib said in his soul, “I cannot endure parting from my own people; but as for thee thy love shall never depart from thee:” then he spake aloud, “An thou deign hear me, do thou abandon that which thou purposest and bid thy Wazir rule over the Isles and thy patrial stead; so shall we twain, I and thou, live in privacy for all time and enjoy the most joyous of lives.” “That may never be,” was her only reply; after which she cried to the Wazir saying, “Carry me off that I fare to my own land.” Then after farewelling her lover, she mounted the Emir-Wazir’s back[402] 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;[403] so they summoned the pages who brought cucurbits of rose-water 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,”[404] but the son retorted “Verily I will not depart from this place wherein I was parted from the dearling of my heart.” So the sire again urged him saying, “These words do thou spare nor persist in this affair because therefrom for thee I fear;” and he fell to cheering him and comforting his spirits. After a while the Sultan Habib arose and fared homewards beside his sire who kept saying to him, “Patience, O my child, the while I assist thee in thy search for this young lady and I send those who shall bring her to thee.” “O my father,” rejoined the son, “I can no longer endure parting from her; nay, ’tis my desire that thou load me sundry camels with gold and silver and plunder and moneys that I may go forth to seek her: and if I win to my wish and Allah vouchsafe me length of life I will return unto you; but an the term of my days be at hand then the behest be to Allah, the One, the Omnipotent. Let not your breasts be straitened therefor and do ye hold and believe that if I abide with you and see not the beloved of my soul I shall perish of my pain while you be standing by to look upon my death. So suffer me to wayfare and attain mine aim; for from the day when my mother bare me ’twas written to my lot that I journey over wild and wold and that I see and voyage over the seas seven-fold.” Hereupon he fell to improvising these verses:—

“My heart is straitened with grief amain ✿ And my friends and familiars have wrought me pain;

And whene’er you’re absent I pine, and fires ✿ In my heart beweep what it bears of bane:

O ye, who fare for the tribe’s domain, ✿ Cry aloud my greetings to friends so fain!”

Now when the Emir Salamah heard these his son’s verses, he bade pack for him four camel loads of the rarest stuffs, and he largessed to him a she-dromedary laden with thrones of red gold; then he said to him, “Lo, O my son, I have given thee more than thou askedst.” “O my father,” replied Habib, “where are my steed and my sword and my spear?” Hereat the pages brought forward a mail-coat Davidian[405] and a blade Maghrabian and a lance Khattian and Samharian, and set them between his hands; and the Sultan Habib donning the habergeon and drawing his sabre and sitting lance in rest backed his steed, which was of the noblest blood known to all the Arabs. Then quoth he, “O my father is it thy desire to send with me a troop of twenty knights that they may escort me to the land of Al-Yaman and may anon bring me back to thee?” “My design,” quoth the sire, “is to despatch those with thee who shall befriend thee upon the road;” and, when Habib prayed him do as he pleased, the Emir appointed to him ten knights, valorous wights, who dreaded naught of death however sudden and awesome. Presently, the youth farewelled his father and mother, his family and his tribe, and joining his escort, mounted his destrier when Salamah, his sire, said to his company, “Be ye to my son obedient in all he shall command you;” and said they, “Hearing and obeying.” Then Habib and his many turned away from home and addressed them to the road when he began to improvise the following lines:—

“My longing grows less and far goes my cark ✿ After flamed my heart with the love-fire stark;

As I ride to search for my soul’s desire ✿ And I ask of those faring to Al-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 offence[406] was dispread, the escort said, “Dismount we in this garden[407] 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 life-blood 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 weight[408] of that same,” quoth one of them, and the others took it from him and presently, when occasion served, they put it into a cup of water and presented it to Habib. He hent that cup in hand and drank off the drugged liquid at a single draught; and presently the Bhang wrought in his vitals and its fumes mounted to his head, mastering his senses and causing his brain to whirl round, whereupon he sank into the depths of unconsciousness. Then quoth his escort, “As soon as his slumber is soundest and his sleep heaviest we will arise and slay him and bury him on the spot where he now sleepeth: then will we return to his father and mother, and tell them that of love-stress to his beloved and of excessive longing and pining for her he died.” And upon this deed of treachery all agreed. So when dawned the day and showed its sheen and shone clear and serene, the knights awoke and seeing their lord drowned[409] in sleep they arose and sat in council, and quoth one of them, “Let us cut his throat from ear to ear;”[410] 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,[411] “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 loyalty[412] of the Arabs there will not remain for us a wight or any who bloweth the fire alight, however mean and slight, who will receive us after such deed. So do ye at least befriend and protect your households and your clans and your wives and your children whom ye left in the tribal domain. But now you design utterly to destroy us, one and all, and after death affix to our memories the ill-name of traitors, and cause our women be enslaved and our children enthralled, nor leave one of us aught to be longed for.” Quoth they jeeringly, “Bring what thou hast of righteous rede:” so quoth he, “Have you fixed your intent upon slaying him and robbing his good?” and they answered, “We have.” However, he objected again and cried, “Come ye and hear from me what it is I advise you, albeit I will take no part[413] 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;[414] moreover, if ye desire to lay hands upon his camels and his moneys and his provisions, then do ye carry them off and leave him where he lieth; then if he live, ’twere well, and if he die ’twill be even better and far better.” “Thy rede is right and righteous,” they replied. Accordingly they seized his steed and his habergeon and his sword and his gear of battle and combat, and they carried off all he had of money and means, and placing him naked upon the bare ground they drove away his camels. Presently asked one of other, “Whenas we shall reach the tribe what shall we say to his father and his mother?” “Whatso Rabi’a shall counsel us,” quoth they, and quoth Rabi’a, “Tell them:—We left not travelling with your son; and, as we fared along we lost sight of him and we saw him nowhere until we came upon him a-swoon and lying on the road senseless: then we called to him by name but he returned no reply, and when we shook him with our hands behold, he had become a dried-up wand. Then seeing him dead we buried him and brought back to you his good and his belongings.” “And if they ask you,” objected one:—In what place did ye bury him and in what land, and is the spot far or near, what shall ye make answer; also if they say to you, “Why did ye not bear his corpse with you, what then shall be your reply?” Rabi’a to this rejoined, “Do you say to them:—Our strength was weakened and we waxed feeble from burn of heart and want of water, nor could we bring his remains with us. And if they ask you:—Could ye not bear him a-back; nay, might ye not have carried him upon one of the camels? do ye declare that ye could not for two reasons, the first being that the body was swollen and stinking from the fiery air, and the second our fear for his father, lest seeing him rotten he could not endure the sight and his sorrow be increased for that he was an only child and his sire hath none other.” All the men joined in accepting this counsel of Rabi’a, and each and every exclaimed, “This indeed is the rede that is most right.” Then they ceased not wayfaring until they reached the neighbourhood of the tribe, when they sprang from their steeds and openly donned black, and they entered the camp showing the sorest sorrow. Presently they repaired to the father’s tent, grieving and weeping and shrieking as they went; and when the Emir Salamah saw them in this case, crowding together with keening and crying for the departed, he asked them, “Where is he, my son?” and they answered, “Indeed he is dead.” Right hard upon Salamah was this lie, and his grief grew the greater, so he scattered dust upon his head and plucked out his beard and rent his raiment and shrieked aloud saying, “Woe for my son, ah! Woe for Habib, ah! Woe for the slice of my liver, ah! Woe for my grief, ah! Woe for the core[415] of my heart, ah!” Thereupon his mother came forth, and seeing her husband in this case, with dust on his head and his beard plucked out and his robe-collar[416] 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, an-hungered. Then he cried out in that Desert of desolation which lay far and wide before his eyes, and the case waxed heavy upon him, and he wept and groaned and complained of his case to Allah Almighty, saying, “O my God and my Lord and my Master, trace my lot an thou hast traced it upon the Guarded Tablet, for who shall right me save Thyself, O Lord of Might that is All-might and of Grandeur All-puissant and All-excellent!” Then he began improvising these verses:—

“Faileth me, O my God, the patience with the pride o’ me; ✿ Life-tie is broke and drawing nigh I see Death-tide o’ me:

To whom shall injured man complain of injury and wrong ✿ Save to the Lord (of Lords the Best!) who stands by side o’ me.”

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

“Travel, for on the way all goodly things shalt find; ✿ And wake from sleep and dreams if still to sleep inclined!

Or victory win and rise and raise thee highmost high ✿ And gain, O giddy pate, the good for which thy soul hath pined;

Or into sorrow thou shalt fall with breast full strait ✿ And ne’er enjoy the Fame that wooes the gen’rous mind,

Nor is there any shall avail to hinder Fate ✿ Except the Lord of Worlds who the Two Beings[417] designed.”

And when he had finished his verse, the Sultan Habib walked in the direction of that blackness nor left walking until he drew near the ridge; but after he could fare no farther and that walking distressed him (he never having been broken to travel afoot and barefoot withal), and his forces waxed feeble and his joints relaxed and his strong will grew weak and his resolution passed away. But whilst he was perplexed concerning what he should do, suddenly there alighted between his hands a snow-white fowl huge as the dome of a 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;[418] and do thou beware how thou raise the hanging without quilting them all with cotton.” So saying he gave him a bundle of tree-wool he had by him, and pursued, “O Habib, when thou shalt have raised the curtain thou wilt discover a door with two leaves also of red gold, whereupon couplets are inscribed, and as regards the first distich an thou master the meaning of the names and the talismans, thou shalt be saved from all terrors and horrors, and if thou fail to comprehend them thou shalt perish in that Hoard. But after opening the door close it not with noise nor glance behind thee, and take all heed, as I fear for thee those charged with the care of the place[419] 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:—

“At him I wonder who from woe is free, ✿ And who no joy displays[420] when safe is he:

And I admire how Time deludes man when ✿ He views the past; but ah Time’s tyranny.”

So the Sultan Habib read over these verses more than once, and wept till he swooned away; then recovering himself he said in his mind, “To me death were pleasanter than life without my love!” and turning to the closets which lay right and left he opened them all and gazed upon the hillocks of gold and silver and upon the heaps and bales of rubies and unions and precious stones and strings of pearls, wondering at all he espied, and quoth he to himself, “Were but a single magazine of these treasures revealed, wealthy were all the peoples who on earth do dwell.” Then he walked up to the curtain whereupon Jinns and Ifrits appeared from every site and side, and voices and shrieks so loudened in his ears that his wits well-nigh flew from his head. So he took patience for a full-told hour when behold, a smoke which spired in air thickened and brooded low, and the sound ceased and the Jinns departed. Hereat, calling to mind the charge of Al-Abbus, he took out the cotton he had by him and after quilting the golden hooks he withdrew the curtain and sighted the portal which the Jinni had described to him. So he fitted in the key and opened it, after which, oblivious of the warning, he slammed-to the door noisily in his fear and forgetfulness, but he did not venture to look behind him. At this the Jinns flocked to him from every side and site crying, “O thou foulest of mankind, wherefore dost thou provoke us and disturb us from our stead? and, but for thy wearing the gear of the Jann, we had slain thee forthright.” But Habib answered not and, arming himself with patience and piety, he tarried awhile until the hubbub was stilled, nor did the Jann cry at him any more: and, when the storm was followed by calm, he paced forward to the shore and looked upon the ocean crashing with billows dashing. He marvelled at the waves and said to himself, “Verily none may know the secrets of the sea and the mysteries of the main save only Allah!” Presently, he beheld a ship passing along shore, so he took seat on the strand until Night let down her pall of sables upon him; and he was an-hungered with exceeding hunger and athirst with excessive thirst. But when morrowed the morn and day showed her sheen and shone serene, he awoke in his sore distress and behold, he saw two Mermaidens of the daughters of the deep (and both were as moons) issue forth hard by him. And ere long quoth one of the twain, “Say me, wottest thou the mortal who sitteth yonder?” “I know him not,” quoth the other, whereat her companion resumed, “This be the Sultan Habib who cometh in search of Durrat al-Ghawwas, our Queen and liege lady.” Hearing these words the youth considered them straitly and marvelling at their beauty and loveliness he presently rejoiced and increased in pleasure and delight. Then said one to other, “Indeed the Sultan Habib is in this matter somewhat scant and short of wits; how can he love Durrat al-Ghawwas when between him and her is a distance only to be covered by the sea-voyage of a full year over most dangerous depths? And, after all this woe hath befallen him, why doth he not hie him home and why not save himself from these horrors which promise to endure through all his days and to cast his life at last into the pit of destruction?” Asked the other, “Would heaven I knew whether he will ever attain to her or not!” and her companion answered, “Yes, he will attain to her, but after a time and a long time and much sadness of soul.” But when Habib heard this promise of success given by the Maidens of the Main his sorrow was solaced and he lost all that troubled him of hunger and thirst. Now while he pondered these matters there suddenly issued from out the ocean a third Mermaid, which asked her fellows, “Of what are you prattling?” and they answered, “Indeed the Sultan Habib sitteth here upon the sea-shore during this the fourth successive night.” Quoth she, “I have a cousin the daughter of my paternal uncle and when she came to visit me last night I enquired of her if any ship had passed by her and she replied:—Yea verily, one did sail driven towards us by a violent gale, and its sole object was to seek you.” And the others rejoined, “Allah send thee tidings of welfare!” The youth hearing these words was gladdened and joyed with exceeding joy; and presently the three Mermaidens called to one another and dove into the depths leaving the listener standing upon the strand. After a short time he heard the cries of the crew from the craft announced and he shouted to them and they, noting his summons, ran alongside the shore and took him up and bore him aboard: and, when he complained of hunger and thirst, they gave him meat and drink and questioned him saying, “Thou! who art thou? Say us, art of the traderfolk?” “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: haply 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’;[421] 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,[422] 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,[423] he made a hood and vizor thereof and wrapped strips of the same around his arms and legs that no harm from the sea might enter his frame. After this he bade his shipmates bind him with cords under his armpits and let him down amiddlemost the main. And as soon as he touched bottom he was confronted by the Ifrit, who rushed forward to make a mouthful of him, when the Sultan Habib raised his forearm and with the scymitar smote him a stroke which fell upon his neck and hewed him into two halves. So he died in the depths; and the youth, seeing the foeman slain, jerked the cord and his mates drew him up and took him in, after which the ship sprang forward like a shaft outshot from the belly[424] 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 harbour[425] and cast anchor therein, when the canoes[426] 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 be 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,[427] and they obeyed her behest. Anon she summoned her pages and commanded them to bring her lover before her; so they repaired to him and ordered him to accompany them. Accordingly, he followed them and they ceased not faring until they had escorted him to the Palace, when the Queen bade all her pages gang their gait and none remained therein save the two lovers; to wit, the Sultan Habib and Durrat al-Ghawwas. And after the goodly reunion she sent for the Kazi and his assessors and bade them write out her marriage-writ[428] 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;[429] but as regards the Emir Salamah and his wife, as they were sitting and recalling to memory their only child and wondering in converse at what fate might have betided him, lo and behold! the Sultan Habib stood before them and by his side was Durrat al-Ghawwas his bride, and as they looked upon him and her, weeping prevailed over them for excess of their joyance and delight and both his parents threw themselves upon him and fell fainting to the ground. As soon as they recovered the youth told them all that had betided him, first and last, whereupon one congratulated other and the kettledrums of glad tidings were sounded, and a world of folk from all the Badawi tribes and the burghers gathered about them and offered hearty compliments on the reunion of each with other. Then the encampment was decorated in whole and in part, and festivities were appointed for a term of seven days full-told, in token of joy and gladness; and banquets were arrayed and trays were dispread, and all sat down to them in the pleasantest of life eating and drinking; and the hungry were filled, and the mean and the miserable and the mendicants were feasted until the end of the seventh day. After this they applied them to the punishment of the ten Knights whom the Emir Salamah had despatched to escort his son; and the Sultan Habib gave order that retribution be required from them, and restitution of all the coin and the good and the horses and the camels entrusted to them by his sire. When these had been recovered he commanded that there be set up for them as many stakes in the garden wherein he sat with his bride, and there in their presence he let impale[430] each upon his own pale. And thenceforward the united household ceased not living the most joyous of lives and the most delectable until the old Emir Salamah paid the debt of nature, and they mourned him with excessive mourning for seven days. When these were ended his son, the Sultan Habib, became ruler in his stead and received the homage of all the tribes and clans who came before him and prayed for his victory and his length of life; and the necks of his subjects, even the most stubborn, were bowed in abasement before him. On this wise he reigned over the Crystalline Isles of Sabur, his sire-in-law, with justice and equity, and his Queen, Durrat al-Ghawwas, bare to him children in numbers who in due time followed in their father’s steps. And here is terminated the tale of Sultan Habib and Durrat al-Ghawwas with all perfection and completion and good omen.

NOTE ON THE HISTORY OF HABIB.

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

At the end of the Frenchified tale we find a note entitled:—“Observations by the French Editor, on the History of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian Knight,” and these are founded not upon the Oriental text but upon the Occidental perversion. It is described “from a moral plane rather as a poem than a simple tale,” and it must be regarded as “a Romance of Chivalry which unites the two chief characteristics of works of that sort,—amusement and instruction.” Habib’s education is compared with that of Telemachus, and his being inured to fatigue is according to the advice of Rousseau “in his Emilius” and the practice of Robinson Crusoe. Lastly “Grandison is a hero 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.

INDEX.

“A King and no army,” 10.

’Abbús Al-, an intensive word meaning “Very stern faced,” 232.

Abd al-Malik bin Marwán (not to be confounded with the Caliph, the tenth of the series), 179.

Abdullah Chelebi, called in old translation “Scheffander-Hassan,” 177.

Abíkám = “Abicam,” a Chaldæan Astrologer (Chavis) and Abimacam (Gauttier), 26.

Abraham, the “Friend of Allah,” 104.

Abú Sahíh = (flight to) a sure and safe place, 149.

Abu Sumayk = “Father of the Fishlet” (in old ver. “Yapousmek”), 16.

Abú Sumayk the Pauper, i.e., “The Father of the little Fish,” 15.

Addíki = I will give thee (in the language of Fellahs), 189.

“Ahádís” esp. referred to the sayings of Mahommed, 41.

Ahádís al-Kudus = sentences attributed to Archangel Gabriel, 41.

Ahádís al-Nabawí = the actual words pron. by Mahommed, 41.

“Ahy Tys” for which read “Tuhà Tays” a general feast (Houdas), 187.

Ajdár = Malady, 162.

Ajíjíyah, possibly Ajínniyah = a dish of dough, 160.

Akbá’ pl. of “Kub’” = in pop. language, any part of garment covering head (St.), 48.

“Akbá’ wa Zarábíl” tr. “Caps and slippers,” 48

Akhyash Abná Sháh (Second name may be “Shah of the Ebna” or Persian incolæ of Al-Yaman), 12.

“Akkál bula’hu” = commit all manner of abominations, 70.

Akyál, pl. of “Kayl” = Kings of the Himyarite peoples, 232.

’Álamína (’Awálim) = the (three) worlds, 249.

“Al-’iddah” in case of divorcée, widow, pregnant woman, 178.

“’Alái al-Din” = Aláeddin, 50.

’Alakah khárijah = an extraordinary drubbing, 84.

“Al bin Imrán” probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns, 126.

“Alfi Hájatan” meaning “What dost thou want (in the way of amusement)? I am at thy disposal,” 178.

Ali, son-in-law of the Prophet (supposed author of Al-Jafr), 168.

“Alif, bá, tá, sá” (A.B.C.D.). The latter written with a Sin instead of a Thá, showing vulg. use which extend from Alex. to Meccah, 37.

Alkermes, i.e., “Al-Kirm” (Arab. and Pers.) = a worm, cochineal, 5.

Allah’s path (a Martyr on) = a Martyr of love, 131.

Almond-Tree “Be not like unto the,” (a lieu commun in the East), 7.

Almond-Tree = the Heb. “Sháked” and the fruit is “Loz” (Arab. Lauz) = Amygdalus communis, 7.

Alms-gift = whatso exceedeth Viaticum (“Jáizah”), or the three-days’ guest hospitality, 26.

Alwán, pl. of Laun, meats of all kinds and colours, 122.

Amírala (wife of Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis) meaning, if anything, “Colonel” or Captain, R.N., 225.

Ammál (Arab.), vulg. written with initial Hamzah = “Verily”, “I believe you my boy” (tr. “Assuredly”), 11.

’Ammál (Arab.) With the Ayn may mean “he intended,” or “he was about to,” 11.

“—And the Peace!” = “There is an end of the matter,” 105.

Ant, Koranic legend of the, 99.

Antum fí Kháshin wa básh (an error for Khásh-másh) = a miserable condition, 137.

Anushirwán (in full Anúshínrawán) = sweet of soul, P.N. of Pers. King, 44.

’Arafát, fête of; the day of the Sermon, when pilgrims sleep at Muzdalifah, 41.

’Arakiyah = Skull-cap, 48.

’Aramramí = flocking and crowding, 195.

Arz (Arab.), from the Heb. “Arz” or “Razah” (✓ raz = to vibrate) = Cedar (of Lebanon), 5.

’As’as = to complicate a matter, 174.

“’Asá Fír,” i.e., “Fír is rebellious,” 102.

Asáfír, pl. of “’Usfúr” = a bird, a sparrow, 102.

Ashur, four sons of (according to Arabs), 3.

Ashghaftíní (see Shaghaftíní), 15.

Aská hu ’alakah = gave him a sound drubbing (’alakah), 58.

Asshúr = Assyria, 3.

Assyrian correspondence, the simplicity of, 12.

Asúr, in the text, “Atúr,” the scriptural

“Asshur” = Assyria, 3.

’Atrús, King (? Heron’s “Illabousatrous”), 234.

Attaf (named by Heron Chebib, also “Xakem Tai-Chebib” = Hátim Tayy Habib), 169.

Attáf, Tale of (Cotheal MS.), 196.

Attáf, Tale of, title compared with Gauttier and Heron, 167.

“Atúr,” scriptural “Asshur” = Assyria, 3.

“’Ayyik” or “Ayyuk” = a hinderer (of disease), 174.

’Ayyúk = Capella, a bright star, 174.

Azm = Koranic versets, which avert evil, 19.

Azzamín = Charmers, i.e., men who recite the Azm, 19.

Bábúk, or “Bábúnak” (Pers.) = the white Camomile flower, 27.

Bahlúl Al- = the “Bahalul” of D’Herbelot, 155.

Bahr al-Azrak = the Blue Sea (Mediterranean), 256.

Bak’ah (=“a hollow where water collects”) and “Buk’ah” (=“a patch of ground”) compared, 12.

Bakar = black cattle, whether bull, cow, or ox, 136.

Banú Hilál, a famous tribe, 225.

Bardawán, the well-known city in Hindostan whose iron was famous, 71.

“Bashákhín,” pl. of “Bashkhánah” = hangings, arras, 44.

Basíl, son of “Ashur,” 3.

Baybúnah (prop. “Bábúnaj” in Arab., and “Bábúk” in Pers.) = the white Camomile flower, 27.

Bel the idol (or Ba’al or Belus, the Phœnician and Canaanite head-god), 26.

Bell as a fringe to the Ephod of High Priest, 100.

Bghb (evidently for “Baght,” or preferably “Baghtatan”), 78.

“Bi Asri-hi” (Arab.) lit. “rope and all;” metaphorically used = altogether, entirely (tr. “the World universal”), 108.

“Bí, Bí, Bí” (compare the French “Brr”), 77.

Birkat Far’aun = Pharaoh’s Pool, 98.

Bisáta-hum = their carpets (tr. “warehouses”), 124.

Buk’ah (=“a piece of low ground”) and Bak’ah (=“a hollow where water collects”) compared, 12.

Bundukáni (Al-) = the cross-bow man, 53.

Buyúrdi, Al- (cler. error for “Buyúruldi”) = the written order of a Governor, 180.

Bye Names, 84.

“Camaralzaman” (olden versions) = “Complete Time,” for “Moon of the Age,” 233.

Camels made drunk with Bhang, or Indian hemp, to make extended marches, 244.

Camomile flower (white), 27.

Cat, a sacred animal amongst the Egyptians, 31.

Cedar of Lebanon, 5.

Census of the Exodus (Exposition by Mr. Thayer), 113.

“Changul” (with three dotted Chím) = red gold, 251.

Chavis quoted, 12, ib. 15, 16, 53, 54, 56, 59, 63, 68, 72.

Chenery quoted, 7, 54, 73, 84, 89, 94, 97, 124, 159, 183, 225, 241.

“Chifte,” from Pers. “Juft” = a pair, any two things coupled together (St.), 67.

Cock and the Fox (Fable of whose moral is that the biter is often bit), 145.

Cohen = a priest either of the true God or of false gods, 109.

Conjuration, a specimen of Islamised Mantra (in Sanskrit “Stambhaná”) intended to procure illicit intercourse, 126.

Conundrum or riddle, 97.

Cotheal MS. quoted, 167, 168, 169, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 179, 181, 184, 186, 192.

Court of Baghdad was, like the Urdú (Horde or Court) of “Grand Mogul,” organised after the ordinance of an army in the field, 81.

“Cousin” more polite than “wife,” 188.

Crucifixion, 261.

Crystalline Isles, 234.

Dabbús bazdaghání (trans. as if from Pers. “Bazdagh” = a file) tr. a “file-wrought mace,” 71.

Dabdihkán, a physician (Cotheal MS.), 174.

Dabshalímat = the Dabshalíms, the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanáth in Western India, 23.

Dahn (Arab.) = oil, ointment (tr. “sweetest unguent”), 10.

Dajlah River (Tigris), 122.

Damascus City (der. from Dimishk) called Shám (Cotheal MS.), 167.

Dán (with dual Dánayn) and “Wudn” (with plural “Audán”) are pop. forms for literary “Uzn” (St.), 245.

Dán Al- (cler. error for Al-Uzn = ear), 245.

Darb al-Záji = the street of the copperas-maker, 60.

“Darbisí al-báb” (from the Pers. “Darbastan” = to tie up, to shut), tr. “Do thou bar,” 69.

Dastúr! = by your leave (Pers.), 58.

Dáúd = David, 229.

Death and Life are states, not things, 103.

De Sacy quoted, 65, 160.

Drachms, Ten = 475 to 478 Eng. grains avoir., 163.

Drinking customs, 47.

Drinking wine before the meal, still a custom in Syria and Egypt, 192.

Dukhn (Arab.) = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain (tr. “millet”), 130.

Durà for “Zurà” or for “Zurrah,” pop. pron. “Durrah” = the Holcus sativus, 146.

Durrat al Ghawwas = Pearl of the diver, 225.

Eastern despots never blame their own culpable folly in misfortune, 22.

Eglantine (or Narcissus), The lowland of, 12.

Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, a marvellous legendary figure, 100.

Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis (Heron), 225.

Emir Yúnas (old trans. = Hamir Youmis), 70.

“Enlarge the Turband” = to assume rank of an ’Álim or learned man, 42.

Entertainment of Guest, three days, 26.

Escarlate, a woollen cloth dyed red (probably French of the xii. century), 5.

Exodus of the Hebrews, Census of the (Exposition by Mr. Thayer), 113.

Exodus, Story of the, 98.

Falsafah (Arab.) = philosophy, 29.

“Fa min tumma,” for “thumma” (“Anon.”), 91.

Fa-sáha (for “Maksah”) = and cried out, 158.

Fatimé (Ja’afar’s wife, according to Heron), 169.

“Fa-yatrahúna” masc. for fem. (tr. “miscarry”), 31.

Fir’aun (Arab.), the dynastic name of Egyptian Kings = Pharaoh (Holy Writ), 12.

“First Footsteps” quoted, 65.

Flogging as punishment, 9.

Furát River (Euphrates), 122.

Gauttier quoted, 3, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, ib. 15, ib. 33, 34, 41, 59, 68, 89, 167, 225, ib. 226, 234.

Gharím = debtor or creditor, 77.

Ghashamsham Al- = the Stubborn, the Obstinate, 256.

“Ghaush” for “Ghaushah” = noise, row, 69.

Ghayth al-hátil = incessant rain of small drops, 241.

Ghilmán (in text “Wuldán”), the boys of Paradise, 128.

Ghiyár (Arab.) = any piece of dress or uniform which distinguishes a class, 52

Ghiyár in Pers. = a strip of yellow cloth worn by Jews subject to the Shah, 52.

Golden Calf of Al-Sámiri, 160.

Guest-rite = three days, 26.

“Há Káhi Ptáh” (O. Egypt.) = “the Land of the great God, Ptah,” 12.

Habbah (Arab.) = a grain (of barley), an obolus, a mite, 53.

Habíb = the Beloved, 226.

Habib, Note on History of, 262.

“Habib, Prince, and Dorathil-goase” (Eng. trans.), 225.

Hammam, necessary to enter after Car. Cop., 171.

Hanút means either “Vintner” or “Vintner’s shop,” 124.

Harísah = meat pudding, 159.

Hasá Al = the Plain of Pebbles, 169.

Hasan, the Handsome (in the old trans. “The Hazen”) (Kházin = treasurer?), 68.

“Háshimí,” i.e., a descendant of Al-Háshim, great grandfather of the Prophet, 191.

Hásil (Al-) (Arab.) = government stores, also the taxes, the revenue, 60.

Hátim of the Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality, 167.

Haudaj = camel-litter, 181.

“Hawánít” pl. of “Hanút” = the shop or vault of a Vintner (tr. “taverns”), 124.

Hawar, many meanings of, 73.

Hayy = either serpent, or living, alive (tr. “living branch”), 99.

“He mounted his father and clothed himself with his mother” = he sold his father for a horse and his mother for a fine dress, 105.

“He readeth it off (readily) as one drinketh water,” 5.

He sat upon ashes (may be figurative or literal), 19.

Head placed at a distance from the body (by way of insult), 15.

Headsman paces round convict three times preparatory to execution; a custom at the Courts of Caliphs generally, 52.

“Health to you and healing,” usual formulæ when a respectable person is seen drinking, 47.

Hebrews and their Exodus (Exposition by Mr. Thayer), 113.

Helios (Apollo), Worship of, not extinct in mod. Greece, 100.

Heron quoted, 41, ib. 50, 52, 68, 72, 167, 168, 169, 170, 173, 178, 225, 234, 242, 245, 247.

“Hicar was a native of the country of Haram (Harrán), and had brought from thence the knowledge of the true God,” 4.

Himyarite (in text “Akyál,” pl. of “Kayl” = “Kings of the Himyarite peoples”) here = the heroes, 232.

Hisában tawíl = a long punishment, 157.

“History of Chec Chahabeddin” (Shaykh Shiháb al-Dín) in “Turkish Tales” of Petis de la Croix = here, “The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad,” 121.

“Hizà (حظى in MS. حضى) bi-Zaijati-há” = le bonheur de ses aventures, 260.

Hms = Vetchling, 74.

Hobal, the biggest idol in the Meccan Pantheon, 26.

Horseman of the horsemen, i.e., not a well-known or distinguished horseman, but a chance rider, 92.

Houdas quoted, 7, 36, 48, 57, 62, 66, 67, 72, 84, ib. 104, ib. 125, 126, 147, 178, ib. 187, 188, 189, 191, 243, 247, 251, 257.

Houri, 73.

“How was it thou honouredst us, and what was the cause of thy coming, etc.” the address of well-bred man to a stranger, 170.

Húr (Al-Ayn) feminine counterparts of the “Boys of Paradise” (Ghilmán), 128.

Húr al-Ayn = our vulgar “Houri,” 73.

“I bade her be the owner of herself,” one of the formulas of divorce, 178.

“I have accepted,” the normal idiom “I accept,” 81.

“Ij’alní fí Kll,” (the latter word a cler. error for “Kal-a” or “Kiláa” = safety, protection) = Set me in a place of safety, 84.

Illicit intercourse, (method intended to procure), 126.

Inbasata ’l-Layl al-Asá = “when the night of offence was dispread,” 243.

Irán (father of the Furs = Persians, etc.) son of “Ashur,” 3.

Isá, according to Moslems, was not begotten in the normal way, 100.

Is’hák = Isaac (Abraham and Isaac), 104.

Is’háku kána ’l-Zabíh = Isaac was the victim, 104.

Ishmael not Isaac made the hero by mod. Moslems of the story “Abraham, and Isaac,” 104.

Islam Al- is based upon the fundamental idea of a Republic, 194.

Israel, history of the name, 100.

Israelite, now polite synonym for Jew, 100.

Ittikà (viiith of ✓ wakà); the form Takwà gen. used = fearing God, 96.

Jabal Ka’ka’án, the highest parts of Meccah, inhabited by the Jurham tribe (so called from their clashing armour and arms), 131.

Jafr, supposed to mean a skin (camel’s or dog’s) prepared as parchment for writing, 168.

Jafr Al-, a cabalistic book, prognosticating all that will ever happen to Moslems, 168.

Jafr-Al-, confused with “Ja’afar bin Tayyár” the Jinni, 168.

Jaftáwát (Arab.) pl. of Turk. “Chifút” = a Jew, or mean fellow, 67.

Jáizah (viaticum) = a day and night, 26.

Jalak, the older name of Damascus, the “Smile of the Prophet,” 167.

“Jamarát of the Arabs” = Banú Numayr, Banú Háris, and Banú Dabbah, 7.

Jámí al-Amawí (Arab.) Cathedral Mosque of the Ommiades, one of the Wonders of the Moslem World, 172.

“Jamrah” (Arab.) a word of doubtful origin, applied to a self dependent tribe (tr. “live coal”), 7.

Janánan may also read “Jinánan” (St.), 138.

Janánan (? vulg. form of “Jannatan” = the garden (of Paradise)) tr. “the garths of Paradise,” 138.

Jarazat Kuzbán (pl. of Kazíb) = long and slender sticks, 76.

Jarír bin ’Abd al-Masíh (Mutalammis, a poet of The Ignorance), 94.

Jarmúk, son of “Ashur,” 3.

Jawádit Al- = animals freshly slain, 257.

Jawákín (Arab.) pl. of Arab. Jaukán for Pers. “Chaugán,” a crooked stick (used in Polo), 125.

“Jayb” = the breast of a gown, also used in sense of a pocket, 42.

Jayyid, der. from root “Jaud” = to excel. (St.), 5.

Jehovah, the tribal deity of the Jews, 4.

Jerusalem, Temple of, a fac simile of the orig. built by Jehovah in the lowest heaven, i.e., that of the moon, 105.

Jím (j) with 3 dots, a Persian letter still preserved in Arabic alphabets of Marocco, etc., 182.

Jinn “Curiosity,” 62.

Jinn (Arab.) = spirit or energy of a man, 183.

Jund (Arab. pl. “Junúd”) = “guards,” a term mostly applied to regular troops under Government, 16.

Juráb al-’uddah (Arab.) i.e., The manacles, fetters, etc., 78.

“Júrah Syán” for “Jurah Sayyál” = a stinking fosse a-flowing, 35.

Ká’ah = a saloon, 61.

Kabad = liver, sky vault, the handle or grip of a bow (tr. here “belly” of the bow), 257.

Kábil-ki (? cler. error for Kátil-ki = Allah strike thee dead) tr. “Allah requite thee,” 55.

Kabá (Pers.) = a short coat or tunic, 48.

Kabírah = head of the household (i.e. the mother), 83.

Kabr al-Sitt, wherein Sitt Zaynab is supposed to lie buried (tr. “Lady’s Tomb”), 171.

Káfi’ah Al- = parapet, 72.

Kahana (Heb.) = he ministered (priests’ offices or other business), 109.

Kahbah = our whore (i.e. hired woman), 46.

Káhin = a Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a soothsayer, 109.

Kahramánah, a word of many senses, 89.

Ka’ka’ = “jingle and jangle” (of horses’ tramp), 131.

Kála ’l-Ráwí = quoth the reciter, 227.

Kál (al-Ráwí) = “the Reciter saith” (a formula omitted here), 15.

Kamar al-Ashráf = Moon of the Nobles, 226.

Kamar al-Zamán (“Moon of the Time”), 233.

“Kamá zukira fí Dayli-h” = “Let it be, as is said, in the tail,” 126.

Kamburisíyah = clotted curd, 159.

Kamal (Arab.) = Louse, 99.

Kapú Katkhúdási = the agent which every Governor is obliged to keep at Constantinople, 180.

Kapú = a door, a house, or a Government office, 179.

Kapújí = a porter. Kapújí-báshí = head porter, 179.

Karz (Arab.) = moneys lent in interest without fixed term of payment, as opp. to “Dayn,” 29.

Káshán (Well of), proverbial for its depth, 127.

Kasím (an unusual word), tr. “tax tribute,” 18.

(Kataba) Zayjata-há = marriage-writ, 259.

Katá grouse, 65.

Katáif (pl.) = Katífah-cakes, a kind of pancake, 45.

Kátal-ki = Allah strike thee dead, 55.

Katalú-ní = killed me, 185.

Kaunayn (Arab.) = the two entities, this world and other world (tr. here “Two Beings”), 249.

Kaus al-Bunduk (or Bundúk) (Arab.) = a pellet-bow, (Ital. arcobugio, Eng. arquebuse), 53.

Kawání al- (pl. of Kanát) = the spears (tr. there “punishment”), also read “al-Ghawání” (St.), 147.

Kayf = joy, the pleasure of living, 174.

Kazafa (Arab.) = threw up, vomited, 135.

Kazi bade ancient dame precede him (on reaching door), lest he happen to meet an unveiled woman upon the upper stairs, 58.

Keyhole (Eastern) cannot be spied through, the holes being in the bolt, 54.

Khabata = “He (the camel) pawed the ground” (tr. “beateth the bough”), 28.

Khatíb = a preacher (not Kátíb = a writer), 240.

Khatt Hajar, a province, 230.

“Khayr” (Arab.) = “’Tis well,” a word of good omen, 58.

Khila’t dakk al-Matrakah, tr. “whereon plates of gold were hammered” (an especial kind of brocade), 81.

Kikán (pl. of Kík) tr. “raven,” 147.

Kinnab = hemp, 62.

Kintár = a quintal, 98 to 99 lbs. avoir, (in round numbers, a cwt.), 29.

Kirm Al- (Arab. and Pers.) = a worm, 5.

Kirsh (Arab.) = piastre, 175.

Kishk = ground wheat, etc., eaten with sheep’s milk soured, etc., 160.

Kís = usually the Giberne or pellet-bag (here the “bow cover”), 53.

Kit’ah humrah = a small quantity of red brickdust to which wonderful medicinal powers are ascribed (St.), 125.

Koran quoted, 100, 104, 156, 157.

“Kubbat al-’Asáfír” = the Dome of the Birds, 181.

“Kullu Shayyin lí mu’as’as” = all is excitement, 174.

“Kúl,” vulg. for “Kul” = “tell me”; a constant form in this MS., 5.

Kunná nu’tíhu li-ahad = we should have given him to someone (Dr. Steingass also explains), 73.

Kunyah (Arab.), the pop. mispronunciation of “Kinyah” = “bye name” (gen. taken from favourite son), 83.

Lane quoted, 46, 53, 74, 178.

“Letters of Mutalammis” (“Uriah’s letters”) are a lieu commun in the East, 94.

Libás (Arab.) = clothes in general (tr. “habit”), 103.

“Live thy head, O King, for ever and aye!” (a formula announcing death of supposed enemy), 17.

Liyah (? Liyyah) = Lign-aloes, 125.

Lodging in the Khan, 95.

Love-fit distinguished by the pulse or similar obscure symptoms, 174.

“Love thy friends and hate thy foes,” the religion of nature, 34.

Low-caste and uneducated men rise suddenly to a high degree, 194.

“Loz” (Heb. and “Lauz” Arab.) = fruit of the Almond-tree = Amygdalus communis, 7.

Ma’adabah = wake or funeral feast before death, 16.

“Made small their sleeves and breasts” = habited themselves in the garments of little people, 42.

Mahmá = as often as = Kullu-má, 54.

Mail-coat Davidian (Heron, “A massy cuirass of Haoudi”), 242.

Manetho’s account of Moses, 112.

Man metamorphosed into a woman, 136.

Man with El, or God = Israel, 100.

Marj = the open grassy space on left bank of Baradah (Damascus) River, 169.

“Mashá’ilíyah jaftáwát wa fánúsín” = “(cresset) bearers of double torches and lanterns” (St.), 67.

Mas’h tr. “robe” (of hair), 157.

Massa-hu’l Fakr = poverty touched him, 105.

Masser, Grand Cairo; having been built by Misraim, Son of Cham, 25.

Matamor (Arab. “Matmúrah”) = Sardábah, a silo for storing grain, etc., 17.

Matáyá Al- = Wight, 162.

Mayzar (Pers.) = a turband; in Arab. “Miizar” = a girdle, a waistcloth, 53.

Mazrab Al- = the care of the place, 251.

Mazlúm (Al-) = the wronged, 59.

Miizar (Arab.) = a girdle, a waistcloth, 53.

“Mík! Mík!” an onomatopy like “Couïc, Couïc,” 158.

Míná = a port, both in old Egypt. and mod. Pers., 258.

“Min al-’Án wa sá’idan” lit. = from this moment upwards, 189.

Mi’ráj = ascent to heaven made by Apostle and return therefrom, etc.—History of, 121.

Mirza Mohammed Husayn Khan, originally a Bakkál (greengrocer) made premier of Fath Ali Shah’s Court, 194.

Miskál is the weight of a dinar = 1½ dirham = 71–72 grains avoir., 244.

Misraim (the dual Misrs), 12.

“Mizr” in Assyrian = “Musur,” in Heb. = “Misraim,” in Arab. “Misr,” corrupted to Masser, 12.

Moses (by name Osarsiph = Osiris-Sapi), history of (by Manetho), 112.

“Mother of Hospitality” is the Sikbáj (Pers. Sikbá) = principal dish set before guests, 159.

“Mother of Strengthening” (meat pudding), 159.

Mother, the head of the household (Kabírah), 83.

“Muábalát min shaani-ká” = (From early dawn) I have wearied myself, 178.

Mukábalah, the third form of “Kabila” = requital, retaliation (St.), 55.

Mukrif = lit. born of a slave father and free mother (tr. “blamed lad,”) 137.

Mulberry-tree in Italy bears leaves till the end of October, and the foliage is as bright as spring verdure, 7.

Murakhkhim = a marble-cutter = simply a stone-mason, 60.

Músà (Moses), 112.

Mutalammis (“Jarír bin ’Abd al-Masíh”) a poet of “The Ignorance,” 94.

“Mutasa’lik” for “Mutasa’lik = like a Sa’lúk” = lean of limb, 122.

Mu’tazid bi ’llah Al-, Caliph, 124.

Muzawwaj = married, 170.

Nabít, son of “Ashur,” 3.

Nádán (Arab.) = the “unknowing” (as op. to Naudán, the equiv. of Pers. “New of knowledge”), 11.

Nadan (in Assyrian story) = Nathan, King of the people of Pukudu, 3.

Nádán (Pers.) = fool, 3.

Nadan The Fool, 3.

Naddábah = public wailing-woman, 17.

“Nahs” = something more than ill-omened, something nasty, foul, uncanny, 71.

Náhú (from ✓ “Nauh”) = making ceremonious “Keening” for the dead, 17.

Najas = a pear, 160.

Najmat al-Sabáh = constellation of Morn, 173.

Nakáír al- (pl. of Nakír = a dinghy, a dug-out) tr. “canoes,” 258.

Nakdí = the actual dowry as opposed to the contingent dowry, 43.

Nákús, or the Gong = Bell, 100.

Names for clouds, rain, etc., in Arab. well nigh innumerable, 241.

Nátúr Al- = the Keeper, esp. of a vineyard, 57.

Naudán (Arab.) equiv. to the Pers. “New of knowledge” as opp. to “Nádán” the “unknowing,” 11.

Naynawah, i.e., “Fish-town” or “town of Nin” = Ninus the founder, 3.

Naynawah, in mod. days name of a port on east bank of Tigris, 3.

Naynawah or “town of Nin” = Ninus, the founder, 3.

Naysán, the Syro-solar month = April, 27.

Názúk, prob. a corr. of Pers. “Názuk” = adj. = delicate, nice, 67.

Nazúr = one who looks intently, for Názir, a looker, 18.

Negemet-il-Souper (Heron) = Najmat al-Sabáh = constellation of Morn, 173.

Nisrín, an island, prob. fabulous, where amber abounds, 12.

Nizál = dismounting to fight on foot, 231.

Obedience to children common in Eastern folk-lore, 90.

’Omán, name of the capital of Eastern Arabia, 139.

Ommiades, Cathedral Mosque of, one of the wonders of the Moslem world, 172.

Only son has a voice in the disposal of his sister, 83.

O rider of the jar, i.e., a witch, 76.

Original sin, 247.

Osarsiph = Osiris-Sapi (Moses), 112.

“Otbah hath a colic,” 77.

Pá-andáz = cloth to tread upon, 259.

Perceval C. de, quoted, 89.

Pharaoh (of Hebrew Scriptures) has become with the Arabs “Fir’aun,” the dynastic name of Egyptian kings, 12.

Pilgrimage quoted, 9, 83, 99, 104, 105, 131, 174.

Porphyry quarries in Middle Egypt, rediscovery of, 60.

“Prayer of Moses, the man of God,” 103.

Punishment by flogging, 9.

Puzzling questions and clever replies, a favourite exercise in the East, 97.

“Quicker to slay than Amrú bin Kulsum” (Proverb), 94.

Rabí’a, 245.

Ráhíb = monk or lion (tr. “God-fearing”), 155.

“Rahúm” for “Rahím” (Doric form) = compassionate, 18.

“Rauzah” in Algiers was a royal park, 243.

“Rauz al-Sanájirah” = plain of the Sinjars, 243.

Razah = cedar or fir (old controversy), 5.

Reading placed in more honourable place than writing (“Writing and reading,” as opposed to “Reading and writing”), 5.

Red Sea (Holy Writ does not say that Pharaoh was drowned in), 99.

Retribution confined to this life, and belief that Fate is fruit of man’s actions (Mosaic theory), 140.

Riddle or conundrum, 97.

Riding men as asses, a facetious exaggeration of an African practice, 240.

Roc or vulture, 23.

Rod of Moses became a common symbol of dignity, etc., 157.

Rods of Moses and Aaron, 98, 99.

Roum, city of (Rúmí), 89.

“Rudaynían,” from “Rudaynah,” either a woman or a place, 230.

Rukhám = marble or alabaster, here used for building material, 60.

Rúmí (“Roum”), in Marocco and other parts of Moslem world is still syn. with our “European,” 89.

“Rushdu ’llah” or “Al-Hudà,” spiritual direction or divine grace received from Allah, 104.

“Sa’alab” or “Tha’lab” = Fox, 146.

“Sádát wa Ashráf” = Sayyids and Sharífs, 233.

(“Sahha) ’alakah (=a something) fí hazá ’l-Amri” = albeit I will take no part, 245.

“Sáhib al-jayyid” (Al-) (Arab.) = excellent companion, 5.

Sajálmah-bird, unknown to dictionaries, prob. species of hawk, 35.

“Sakalat” (Pers.) or “Saklatún,” whence Mr. Skeat would derive “scarlet,” 5.

Sakká (Arab.) = a water carrier, 46.

“Sakká Sharbah,” who supplies water to passengers in streets, 46.

“Salám” here = Heaven’s blessing, 97.

Salát, sundry technical meanings, 103.

Salát = the formal ceremonious prayer, 103.

“Salb” = impalement, everywhere else meaning crucifixion, 260–1.

Samaritans, 160–1.

Samd = carpets and pots and pans (tr. Vaiselle), 64.

Samhari, 229.

Sámiri Al-, Golden Calf of, 160.

Sámiri, translated by Christian commentators as “Samaritan,” 160.

“Samman” (for “Sammán”) = quails, 66.

“Samman” or “Summan” (classically “Salwá”) = quails, 147.

Samson’s Enigma (Judges xiv. 12), 106.

Sandarúsah (Arab.) = red juniper gum (from Pers. “Sandar” = amber) tr. “Sandarach,” 141.

Sankharíb the Sovran, 3.

Sarhádún = “Sarkhadom” (Gauttier). The great usurper Sargon, 6.

Sayyád, lit. = a fisherman, 161.

Scarlet (red, violet, white, green), 5.

Seven handwritings, 226.

Shaghaftíní (also “Ashghaftíní”) from Shaghaf = violent love, joy, grief = “Thou hast enamoured me,” 15.

Shaghaf = violent love, joy, grief, 15.

Shah-Goase (Shah Ghawwás = King Diver), 233.

Shakbán = the end of cloth, gown, cloak, etc. (Houdas), 189.

Sháked (Heb.) = Almond-tree, 7.

Shamámah (or “Chamama,” accord. to Gauttier and Heron), 68.

Shám = Syria (and its capital) called Damascus (Cotheal MS.), 167.

Shámat = cheek mole (beauty spot), applied to Damascus (Shám), 167.

“Shobási,” for “Sobáshí,” 191.

Sibák (Arab.) usually = a leash (for falconry) tr. “silken cord,” 46.

Sikálah (Sing.) = scaffolding, 61.

Sikbáj, a marinated stew like Zirbájah, 160.

Sikbáj (Pers. Sikbá) called “Mother of Hospitality,” being principal dish set before guests, 159.

Símiyá = fascination (a form of magic), 132.

Sin akhi-irib = Sini (Lunus, or the moon-god) increaseth brethren (Etymology of “Sankharíb”), 3.

Sinaubar (tr. “pine”) may also mean pistachio-tree, 163.

“Snsál” for “Salsál” = lit. chain (tr. “borders”), 235.

“Spare not blows to thy child,” a barbarous sentiment of Biblical inspiration, 9.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” 9.

Steingass Notes, 5, 57, 67, 73, 122, 125, 138, 147, 245.

Striking the nape = “boxing ears” (Moslem equiv.), 35.

Sultan, amongst Arabs may denote any dignity from a Shaykh to a Sultan, 226.

Summák = a plant with acid flavour, dried, pounded, and peppered with meat, 160.

Sun fare backwards = “to eclipse the sun,” 107.

Suwaydá al-Kalb (the black one of the heart) = original sin (synonymous with “Habbat al-Kalb” = the grain in the heart), both metaphorically used for “original sin.” (St.), 247.

“Suwayd” and “Suwaydá,” diminutives of “Aswad” = black. (St.), 247.

Suwaydá, lit. “a small and blackish woman,” 247.

Ta’arkalak, (Arab.) = waylay thee, 7.

Tábah = gag, 184.

Tabariyyah = Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth) where, according to some Moslems, the Solomon was buried, 101.

Tabshálím, (a word which appears to be a corruption bearing a resemblance to “Dabshalim,” meaning “a mighty king”), 23.

Tá-Há, whose first 14–16 verses are said to have converted the hard-headed Omar, 157.

Tajní = lit. thou pluckest (the fruit of good deeds), 104.

Takhtrawán = mule-litter, 181.

Takwà (form gen. used for “Ittikà”) = fearing God, 96.

Tá-mera (Coptic) = the Land of the Nile Flood, 12.

“Tarajjum,” taking refuge from Satan the Stoned (Rajím), 190.

Tarjumán = a dragoman, 89.

Tarjumanah (fem. of “Tarjumán” = a dragoman) = lit. an “interpreter” woman, 89.

Tatadakhkhal ’alay-h = “sue his protection,” 134.

Tays = myriads of, 187.

Thaníyyat al-’Ukáb = the Vulture’s Pass, 181.

“The green stick is of the trees of Paradise,” 9.

“The reed-pen wrote what ’twas bidden write” = “Destiny so willed it,” 51.

“There is no harm to thee, and boon of health befal thee,” auspicious formula, 174.

The sand appeared in the sunlight like unto ropes (author and Steingass explain) 32.

“This night” for “last night,” 128.

Tín (Arab.) = clay, mud (used with Tob forming walls of Egypt and Assyria), 24.

TMT, i.e., Tammat = She (the tale) is finished, 38.

Tobe = the Anglo-Oriental form of “Thaub” = in Arabia a loose robe like a night-gown, 139.

“To eat skite” = to talk or act foolishly, 70.

Towáb Al- (Arab. pl. of Pers. and Turk. “Top”) = cannon, 186.

Tuhà = cooked meat, 187.

“Tutmájíyah” for “Tútmáj” = vermicelli, 160.

Tuzáribí may mean “Dost thou play the part of” (St.), 57.

Ukiyyah (or Wukiyyah) = ounce = 571·5 to 576 grains, 163.

Voices from the other world, 227.

Wahwah Al- = the hue of metal leaves, 122.

“Wa Kita’h hamrah,” tr. “also a bit of cooked meat,” 125.

“Wa lá ahad tafawwaha fína” = “nor hath anyone ever spoken,” 29.

Walawá’yh? = wa’l-aw’iyah (pl. of wi’á) = and the vessels ... shimmered like unto silver for their cleanliness. (St.), 122.

Wálí, at one time a Civil Governor, and in other ages a Master of Police, 67.

“Waliyah” or “Waliyáh” = and why? 59.

“Wa’lláhu ’l-Muwaffiku ’l-Mu’ín” = God prospereth and directeth (a formula often prefixed to a book), 196.

“Walwalah” or “Wilwál” (an onomatopy), general term for the wail, 17.

“Wa yabkí ’alaykum Mabálu-h” = suffer only his crime be upon you (Steingass reads “Wabál” for “Mabál,” and translates, “lest the guilt of it rest upon you,”) 246.

Wayha-k (before “Wayla-k”) = “Fie upon thee,” 20.

Weapons and furniture (i.e., headstalls, hobbles, etc.) for mare saddled and bridled (price for slave), 92.

Week days, 13.

“When Adam dolve and Eve span,” etc., 102.

Will, a mighty motor-power, 126.

Window gardening, an ancient practice in the East, 172.

“Writing and reading,” as opposed to our “Reading and writing,” 5.

Wuldán = Ghilmán = the boys of Paradise, 128.

“Yabahh” = saying “Bah, Bah!” 253.

“Yá Bunayyí” = lit. “O my little son,” a term of special fondness (tr. “O dear, my son”), 7.

Yákah Thiyábish = his robe-collar rent, 247.

Yá Kawákí = O thou brawler, 84.

Yakhat (prob. cler. error for “Yakhbut,”) lit. = he was panting in a state of unconsciousness, tr. “drowned” in sleep, 244.

Yá Luss (Arab.) = “O Robber” (=the Gr. ληστὴς), 56.

Yamaklak, Al- = vivers, provaunt, 180.

Yamak (Turk.) = food, a meal, 180.

Yapousmek (old ver.) = “Yá Abú Sumayk,” 16.

Yá Ta’ásat-ná = “O our misery,” 48.

Ya’tadir (dots often omitted in MS.) may mean Ya’tazir = find excuse, 20.

Ya’tadir (from ✓ ’Adr = heavy rain, boldness) (tr. “fortify himself,”), 20.

Yá Ta’ís = “O thou miserable,” 48.

Yatbashsh (for “yanbashsha”) = a smiling face, 138.

—— may also stand for Yabtashsh, with transposition of the “t” of the 8th form (St.), 138.

Ya’tazir = find excuse, 20.

Yaum al-Khamís (Arab.) = fifth day, 13.

Yá zayn = oh, the beautiful beast, 149.

Yulakkimu (Arab.) from “Lukmah” = a mouthful, 75.

Zábit = A Prefect of Police, 154.

Zábit (from the ✓ “Zabt” = keeping in subjection, holding tight) tr. “Holdfast,” 154.

Zabtiyah = a constable, 154.

Zafar = victory (clerical error for Zafar = plaited hair), 104.

Zahr, Al- = duty, 162.

Zalamah (Arab.) = tyrants, 73.

Záraba (verb) 3rd form followed by acc. = “to join one in partnership” (St.), 57.

Zarábíl (com. cor. of Zarábin = slaves’ shoes, slippers), 48.

Zarbúl tákí (Arab.), the latter meaning “high-heeled,” 53.

Zawádah (gen. “Azwád” or “Azwidah”) = provisions, viaticum, 181.

Zayjah (from (Pers.) “Záycheh”) = lit. a horoscope (tr. “lot”), 235.

Zifr = horny matter which, according to Moslem tradition, covered our first parents, 104.

Zimmat = obligation, protection, clientship (tr. “loyalty”), 245.

Zindík = Atheist, Agnostic, 158.

Znnákt-ha, tr. “(striketh) her sting” (?) 35.

Appendix I.
INDEX I.
INDEX TO THE TALES AND PROPER NAMES

N.B.—The Roman Numerals denote the volume, the Arabic the page.

Abbaside, Ja’afar bin Yahya and Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the, i. 159.

Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the Abbaside, Ja’afar bin Yahya and, i. 159.

Abdullah bin Nafí’, Tale of Harun Al-Rashid and, ii. 67.

Abu Niyyatayn, History of Abu Niyyah and, iv. 334.

Abu Niyyah and Abu Niyyatayn, History of, iv. 334.

Abu Sabir, Story of, i. 81.

Abu Tammam, Story of Aylan Shah and, i. 112.

Advantages of Patience, Of the, i. 81.

Adventure of the Fruit Seller and the Concubine, iv. 256.

Adventures of Khudadad and his brothers, iii. 269.

Adventures of Prince Ahmad and the Fairy Peri-Banu, iii. 419.

Al-’Abbás, Tale of King Ins bin Kays and his daughter with the Son of King ii. 191.

Alaeddin; or the Wonderful Lamp, iii. 51.

Do. (English Translation of Galland), iii. 195.

Al-Bundukani, or the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the daughter of King Kisra, vi. 39.

Al-Hajjaj and the Three Young Men, i. 47.

Al-Hajjaj bin Yusuf and the Young Sayyid, History of, v. 37.

Al-Hayfa and Yusuf, The Loves of, v. 121.

Ali Baba, and the Forty Thieves, Story of, iii. 369.

Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, Story of, iii. 405.

Allah, Of the Speedy relief of, i. 151.

Allah, Of Trust in, i. 102.

Al-Maamun and Zubaydah, i. 175.

Al-Maamun, The Concubine of, ii. 281.

Al-Malik Al-Zahir Rukn Al-Din Bibars al-Bundukdari and the Sixteen Captains of Police, ii. 3.

Al-Nu’uman and the Arab of the Banu Tay, i. 179.

Al-Rahwan, King Shah Bakht and his Wazir, i. 191.

Al-Rashid and the Barmecides, i. 165.

Do. Ibn Al-Sammak and, i. 171.

Appointed Term, which, if it be Advanced may not be Deferred, and if it be Deferred, may not be Advanced, Of the, i. 129.

Arab of the Banu Tay, Al-Nu’uman and the, i. 179.

Ass, Tale of the Sharpers with the Shroff and the, i. 298.

Attaf, The Tale of, vi. 165.

Do. (by Alex. J. Cotheal) vi. 197.

Aylan Shah and Abu Tammam, Story of, i. 112.

Baba Abdullah, Story of the Blind Man, iii. 311.

Babe, History of the Kazi who bare a, iv. 167.

Bakhtzaman, Story of King, i. 102.

Banu Tay, Al-Nu’uman and the Arab of the, i. 179.

Barber and the Captain, The Cairenne Youth, the, v. 241.

Barber’s Boy and the Greedy Sultan, Story of the Darwaysh and the, v. 105.

Barmecides, Al-Rashid and the, i. 165.

Do. Harun Al-Rashid and the Woman of the, i. 51.

Bassorah, The Loves of the Lovers of, v. 65.

Beautiful Daughter to the Poor Old Man, Tale of the Richard who married the, i. 218.

Bhang-Eater and his Wife, History of the, iv. 202.

Do. Tale of the Kazi and the, iv. 187.

Bihkard, Story of King, i. 107.

Blind man, Baba Abdullah, Story of the, iii. 311.

Broke-Back Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv. 95.

Cadette, Tale of the Two Sisters who envied their, iii. 491.

Cairenne Youth, the Barber and the Captain, The, v. 241.

Cairo (The good wife of) and her four gallants, v. 251.

Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the daughter of King Kisra, The History of Al-Bundukani or the, vi. 39.

Caliph Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the Poets, The, i. 39.

Caliph’s Night Adventure, History of the, iii. 307.

Caliph, The Concubine and the, ii. 275.

Captain, The Cairenne Youth, the Barber and the, v. 241.

Captain, The Tailor and the Lady and the, v. 261.

Cheat and the Merchants, Tale of the, i. 302.

China, The three Princes of, v. 211.

Clemency, Of, i. 107.

Clever Thief, A merry jest of a, ii. 56.

Cock and the Fox, The pleasant history of the, vi. 143.

Cœlebs the droll and his wife and her four Lovers, v. 295.

Compeer, Tale of the Two Sharpers who each cozened his, i. 288.

Concubine, Adventure of the Fruit Seller and the, iv. 256.

Concubine and the Caliph, The, ii. 275.

Do. of Al-Maamun, The, ii. 281.

Constable’s History, First, ii. 6.

Do. Second, ii. 16.

Do. Third, ii. 19.

Do. Fourth, ii. 23.

Do. Fifth, ii. 25.

Do. Sixth, ii. 27.

Do. Seventh, ii. 30.

Do. Eighth, ii. 34.

Do. Ninth, ii. 44.

Do. Tenth, ii. 47.

Do. Eleventh, ii. 49.

Do. Twelfth, ii. 52.

Do. Thirteenth, ii. 53.

Do. Fourteenth, ii. 54.

Do. Fifteenth, ii. 59.

Do. Sixteenth, ii. 63.

Cook, Story of the Larrikin and the, i. 4.

Coyntes, The Lady with the two, v. 279.

Crone and the Draper’s Wife, Story of the, i. 309.

Do. and the King, Tale of the Merchant, the, i. 235.

Cunning she thief, The gate keeper of Cairo and the, v. 307.

Dadbin and his Wazirs, Story of King, i. 94.

Darwaysh and the Barber’s Boy and the Greedy Sultan, Story of, v. 105.

Do. The Sultan who fared forth in the habit of a, iv. 35.

Daryabar, History of the Princess of, iii. 281.

Daughter of King Kisra, The History of Al-Bundukani, or the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and the, vi. 39.

David and Solomon, Story of, i. 244.

Destiny or that which is written on the Forehead, i. 120.

Dethroned Ruler, whose reign and wealth were restored to him, Tale of the, i. 253.

Devotee accused of Lewdness, Tale of the, i. 270.

Disciple’s Story, The, i. 251.

Druggist, Tale of the Singer and the, i. 203.

Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, How, iv. 210.

Duenna and the King’s Son, The Linguist-Dame, the, vi. 87.

Eighth Constable’s History, ii. 34.

Eleventh Constable’s History, ii. 49.

Enchanting Bird, Story of the King of Al-Yaman and his Three sons, and the, v. 258.

Do., Tale of the Sultan and his Three Sons and the, iv. 244.

Ends of Affairs, Of Looking to the, i. 73.

Envy and Malice, Of, i. 111.

Fairy Peri Banu, Adventures of Prince Ahmad and the, iii. 419.

Falcon and the Locust, Story of the, i. 305.

Fellah and his Wicked Wife, The, v. 345.

Fifteenth Constable’s History, ii. 59.

Fifth Constable’s History, ii. 25.

First Constable’s History, ii. 6.

Do. Larrikin, History of the, iv. 281.

Do. Lunatic, Story of the, iv. 49.

Firuz and his Wife, i. 185.

Fisherman and his Son, Tale of the, iv. 314.

Forehead, Of Destiny or that which is Written on the, i. 120.

Forty Thieves, Story of Ali Baba and the, iii. 369.

Fourteenth Constable’s History, ii. 54.

Fourth Constable’s History, ii. 23.

Fowl with the Fowler, History of what befel the, vi. 151.

Fox, The Pleasant History of the Cock and the, vi. 143.

Fruit-seller and the Concubine, Adventure of the, iv. 256.

Fruit-seller’s Tale, The, iv. 244.

Fuller and his Wife and the Trooper, Tale of the, i. 231.

Gallants, The Goodwife of Cairo and her Four, v. 251.

Gatekeeper of Cairo and the Cunning She-thief, The, v. 307.

Girl, Tale of the Hireling and the, i. 279.

Good and Evil Actions, Of the Issues of, i. 93.

Goodwife of Cairo and her Four Gallants, The, v. 251.

Greedy Sultan, Story of the Darwaysh and the Barber’s Boy and the, v. 105.

Hajjaj (Al-) and the Three young Men, i. 47.

Harun Al-Rashid and Abdullah bin Nafí, Tale of, ii. 67.

Do. and the Woman of the Barmecides, i. 51.

Do. and the Youth Manjab, Night Adventure of, v. 61.

Do. Tale of the Damsel Tohfat al-Kulub and the Caliph, ii. 70.

Haykar the Sage, The Say of, vi. 1.

History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The Ten Wazirs; or the, i. 55.

Do. of what befel the Fowl with the Fowler, vi. 151.

Hireling and the Girl, Tale of the, i. 279.

How Allah gave him relief, Story of the Prisoner and, i. 151.

How Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, iv. 210.

Husband, Tale of the Simpleton, v. 116.

Ibn al-Sammak and Al-Rashid, i. 171.

Ibrahim and his Son, Story of, i. 121.

Ill Effects of Impatience, Of the, i. 89.

Impatience, Of the Ill Effects of, i. 89.

Ins bin Kays (King) and his Daughter with the Son of King Al-’Abbás, Tale of, ii. 191.

Isa, Tale of the Three Men and our Lord, i. 250.

Issues of Good and Evil Actions, Of the, i. 93.

Ja’afar bin Yahya and Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the Abbaside, i. 159.

Kazi and the Bhang-Eater, Tale of the, iv. 187.

Do. and the Slipper, Story of the, iv. 212.

Do., How Drummer Abu Kasim became a, iv. 210.

Do. schooled by his Wife, The, v. 361.

Do. who bare a babe, History of the, iv. 167.

Khalbas and his Wife and the Learned Man, Tale of the, i. 267.

Khudadad and his Brothers, Adventures of, iii. 269.

Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal, History of, iii. 341.

King and his Chamberlain’s Wife, Tale of the, i. 308.

Do. Azadbakht and his Son. The Ten Wazirs; or the History of, i. 55.

Do. Bakhtzaman, Story of, i. 102.

Do. Bihkard, Story of, i. 107.

Do. Dadbin and his Wazirs, Story of, i. 94.

Do. Ibrahim and his Son, Story of, i. 121.

Do. of Al-Yaman and his Three Sons and the Enchanting Bird, Story of the iv. 258.

Do. of Hind and his Wazir, Tale of, i. 352.

Do. Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, i. 191.

Do. Sulayman Shah and his Niece, Story of, i. 131.

Do. Tale of himself told by the, v. 463.

Do. Tale of the Merchant, the Crone and the, i. 235.

Do. who kenned the quintessence of things, Tale of the, i. 212.

Do. who lost Kingdom and Wife and Wealth and Allah restored them to him, Tale of the, i. 319.

King’s Son of Sind and the Lady Fatimah, The History of, v. 1.

Do. The Linguist-Dame, the Duenna and the, vi. 87.

Kurd Sharper, Tale of Mahmud the Persian and the, iv. 242.

Lady and the Captain, The Tailor and the, v. 261.

Do. Dunat al-Ghawwas, History of Prince Habib and what befel him with the, vi. 223.

Do. Fatimah, The History of the King’s Son of Sind and the, v. 1.

Do. with the two Coyntes, The, v. 279.

Larrikin and the Cook, Story of the, i. 4.

Do. concerning himself, Tale of the Third, vi. 329.

Do. History of the First, iv. 281.

Do. History of the Second, iv. 290.

Do. History of the Third, iv. 294.

Leach (Tale of the Weaver who became a), by order of his wife, i. 282.

Learned Man, Tale of Khalbas and his Wife and the, i. 267.

Lewdness, Tale of the Devotee accused of, i. 270.

Limping Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv. 101.

Linguist-Dame, the Duenna, and the King’s Son, The, vi. 87.

Locust, Story of the Falcon and the, i. 305.

Looking to the Ends of Affairs, Of, i. 73.

Lovers, Cœlebs the Droll and his wife and her four, v. 295.

Do. of Bassorah, The Loves of the, v. 65.

Do. of Syria, History of the, v. 19.

Loves of Al-Hayfa and Yusuf, The, v. 121.

Do. of the Lovers of Bassorah, The, v. 65.

Luck, Story of the Merchant who lost his, i. 65.

Lunatic, Story of the First, iv. 49.

Do., Do. Second, iv. 67.

Mahmud the Persian and the Kurd Sharper, Tale of, iv. 242.

Man of Khorassan, his Son and his Tutor, Tale of the, i. 194.

Do. whose Caution slew him, Tale of the, i. 258.

Do. who was Lavish of his House, and his Provision for one whom he knew not, i. 259.

Malice, Of Envy and, i. 111.

Melancholist and the Sharper, Tale of the, i. 264.

Merchant and his Sons, Tale of the, i. 73.

Do. of Baghdad, Story of Ali Khirajah and the, iii. 405.

Merchant’s daughter and the Prince of Al-Irak, The, v. 371.

Merchants, Tale of the Cheat and the, i. 302.

Merchant, the Crone and the King, Tale of the, i. 235.

Do. who lost his luck, Story of the, i. 65.

Merry Jest of a Clever Thief, A, ii. 56.

Mistress and his Wife, Mohammed the Shalabi and his, v. 333.

Mohammed, Story of a Sultan of Al-Hind and his Son, iv. 297.

Do. Sultan of Cairo, History of, iv. 37.

Do. the Shalabi and his Mistress and his Wife, v. 333.

Mohsin and Musa, Tale of, v. 319.

Musa, Tale of Mohsin and, v. 319.

Niece, Story of King Sulayman Shah and his, i. 131.

Night Adventure of Sultan Mohammed of Cairo with the Three foolish schoolmasters, The, iv. 90.

Night Adventure of Harun Al-Rashid and the Youth Manjab, v. 61.

Ninth Constable’s History, ii. 44.

Nur al-Din Ali of Damascus and the damsel Sitt al-Milah, ii. 151.

Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the Poets, The Caliph, i. 39.

Patience, Of the advantages of, i. 81.

Persistent Ill Fortune, Of the Uselessness of Endeavour against the, i. 63.

Picture, Tale of the Prince who fell in love with the, i. 226.

Pleasant History of the Cock and the Fox, The, vi. 143.

Poets, The Caliph Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the, i. 39.

Poor man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the Sultan and the, iv. 242.

Do. old man, Tale of the Richard who married his beautiful Daughter to the, i. 218.

Prince Ahmad and the Fairy Peri-Banu, Adventures of, iii. 419.

Prince Bihzad, Story of, i. 89.

Do. Habib and what befel him with the Lady Dunat al-Ghawwas, History of, vi. 223.

Prince of Al-Irak, The Merchant’s Daughter and the, v. 371.

Princess of Daryabar, History of, iii. 281.

Prince who fell in love with the Picture, Tale of the, i. 226.

Prisoner and how Allah gave him relief, Story of, i. 151.

Quintessence of things, Tale of the King who kenned the, i. 212.

Richard, Tale of the, who married his beautiful daughter to the Poor Old Man, i. 218.

Righteous Wazir wrongfully gaoled, The, v. 229.

Robber and the Woman, Tale of the, i. 246.

Sage and his Three Sons, Tale of the, i. 222.

Do. the Scholar, Story of the, iv. 74.

Salim the Youth of Khorasan, and Salma his Sister, Tale of, i. 332.

Salma, his Sister, Tale of Salim the Youth of Khorasan and, i. 332.

Say of Haykar the Sage, The, vi. 1.

Scholar, Story of the Sage and the, iv. 74.

Schoolmaster, Story of the Broke-Back, iv. 95.

Do. Story of the Limping, iv. 101.

Do. Story of the Split-mouthed, iv. 97.

Second Constable’s History, ii. 16.

Do. Larrikin, History of the, iv. 290.

Do. Lunatic, Story of the, iv. 67.

Seventh Constable’s History, ii. 30.

Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, King, i. 191.

Sharpers with the Shroff and the Ass, Tale of the, i. 298.

Sharper, Tale of the Melancholist and the, i. 264.

Do. Tale of the old, ii. 57.

Shroff and the Ass, Tale of the Sharpers with the, i. 298.

Sidi Nu’uman, History of, iii. 325.

Singer and the Druggist, Tale of the, i. 203.

Simpleton Husband, Tale of the, i. 239.

Do. Do. v. 116.

Sitt al-Milah, Nur al-Din Ali of Damascus and the Damsel, ii. 151.

Sixteen Captains of Police, Al-Malik Al-Zahir Rukn Al-Din Bibars Al-Bundukdari and the, ii. 3.

Sixteenth Constable’s History, ii. 63.

Sixth Constable’s History, ii. 27.

Sleeper and the Waker, The, i. 1.

Slipper, Story of the Kazi and the, iv. 212.

Solomon, Story of David and, i. 244.

Sons, Tale of the Merchant and his, i. 73.

Speedy relief of Allah, Of the, i. 151.

Split Mouth Schoolmaster, Story of the, iv. 97.

Sulayman Shah and his Niece, Story of King, i. 131.

Sultanah, Story of three Sisters and their Mother the, iv. 109.

Sultan and his Three Sons and the Enchanting Bird, Tale of the, iv. 244.

Do. and the Poor Man who brought to him Fruit, Tale of the, iv. 242.

Do. Mohammed of Cairo with the Three Foolish Schoolmasters, The Night Adventure of, iv. 90.

Sultan of Al-Hind and his Son Mohammed, Story of the, iv. 297.

Do. of Al-Yaman and his Three Sons, Story of, iv. 1.

Do. who fared forth in the habit of a Darwaysh, The, iv. 35.

Syria, History of the Lovers of, v. 19.

Syrian and the Three Women of Cairo, The, v. 271.

Tailor and the Lady and the Captain, The, v. 261.

Tale of Himself told by the King, v. 463.

Tenth Constable’s History, ii. 47.

Ten Wazirs; or, the History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The, i. 55.

Thief’s Tale, The, ii. 42.

Third Constable’s History, ii. 19.

Third Larrikin concerning himself, Tale of, iv. 329.

Do. History of the, iv. 294.

Thirteenth Constable’s History, ii. 53.

Three Foolish Schoolmasters, The Night Adventure of Sultan Mohammed of Cairo with the, iv. 90.

Three men and our Lord Isa, Tale of the, i. 250.

Do. Princes of China, The, v. 211.

Do. Sharpers, Story of the, iv. 17.

Do. Sisters and their Mother the Sultanah, Story of the, iv. 109.

Do. Sons, Tale of the Sage and his, i. 222.

Do. Women of Cairo, The Syrian and the, v. 271.

Do. Young Men, Al-Hajjaj and the, i. 47.

Tither, Tale of the Unjust King and the, i. 242.

Tohfat al-Kulub and the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid, Tale of the Damsel, ii. 70.

Trooper, Tale of the Fuller and his wife and the, i. 231.

Trust in Allah, Of, i. 102.

Tutor, Tale of the Man of Khorassan, his Son and his, i. 194.

Twelfth Constable’s History, ii. 52.

Two Kings and the Wazir’s daughters, Tale of the, ii. 263.

Two Lack-Tacts of Cairo and Damascus, Story of the, v. 453.

Do. Sharpers who each cozened his Compeer, Tale of the, i. 288.

Do. Sisters who envied their Cadette, Tale of the, iii. 491.

Ugly man and his beautiful Wife, Tale of the, i. 315.

Unjust King and the Tither, Tale of the, i. 242.

Uselessness of Endeavour against the Persistent Ill Fortune, Of the, i. 63.

Virtue, The whorish wife who vaunted her, v. 287.

Waker, The Sleeper and the, i. 1.

Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad, Tale of the, vi. 119.

Wazir Al-Rahwan, King Shah Bakht and his, i. 191.

Do. Tale of the King of Hind and his, i. 352.

Do. (The Righteous) wrongfully gaoled, v. 229.

Wazir’s Daughters, Tale of the Two Kings and the, ii. 263.

Wazirs; or the History of King Azadbakht and his Son, The Ten, i. 55.

Do. Story of King Dadbin and his, i. 94.

Weaver who became a Leach by order of his wife, Tale of the, i. 282.

Whorish wife who vaunted her virtue, The, v. 287.

Wicked wife, The Fellah and his, v. 345.

Wife, Firuz and his, i. 185.

Do. History of the Bhang Eater and his, iv. 202.

Do. Story of the Crone and the Draper’s, i. 309.

Do. Tale of the King and his Chamberlain’s, i. 308.

Do. do. Ugly man and his beautiful, i. 315.

Do. do. Weaver who became a Leach by order of his, i. 282.

Do. The Kazi schooled by his, v. 361.

Wives, Story of the Youth who would futter his father’s, v. 439.

Woman of the Barmecides, Harun Al-Rashid and the, i. 51.

Do. Tale of the Robber and the, i. 246.

Do. who humoured her lover at her husband’s expense, The, v. 355.

Women’s Wiles, ii. 137.

Wonderful Lamp, Alaeddin; or the, iii. 51.

Do. do. (English Translation of Galland), iii. 195.

Young Cook of Baghdad, Tale of the Warlock and the, vi. 119.

Do. Sayyid, History of Al-Hajjaj bin Yusuf and the, v. 37.

Youth Manjab, Night Adventure of Harun Al-Rashid and the, v. 61.

Do. who would futter his father’s wives, Story of the, v. 439.

Yusuf, The Loves of Al-Hayfa and, v. 121.

Zayn al-Asnam, Tale of, iii. 3.

Do. (Turkish version by E. J. W. Gibb), iii. 41.

Zubaydah, Al-Maamun and, i. 175.

VARIANTS AND ANALOGUES BY W. A. CLOUSTON.

- Aladdin; or the Wonderful Lamp, iii. 564.

- Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii. 590.

- Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, iii. 596.

- Al-Malik Al-Zahir and the Sixteen Captains of Police, ii. 369.

- Blind Man, Baba Abdullah, The Story of the, iii. 582.

- Damsel Tohfat al-Kulub, The, ii. 371.

- Devout woman accused of Lewdness, The, ii. 340.

- Fifteenth Constable’s Story, The, ii. 369.

- Firuz and his Wife, ii. 301.

- Fuller, his Wife and the Trooper, The, ii. 329.

- Khudadad and his Brothers, iii. 576.

- Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal, History of, iii. 587.

- King Aylan Shah and Abu Tammam, ii. 297.

- Do. Dadbin and his Wazirs, ii. 296.

- Do. Ins bin Kays and his Daughter, ii. 377.

- Do. Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, ii. 302.

- Do. Sulayman Shah and his Niece, ii. 298.

- Do. who kenned the Quintessence of things, The, ii. 320.

- Do. who lost Kingdom, Wife and Wealth, The, ii. 343.

- Melancholist and the Sharper, The, ii. 333.

- Ninth Constable’s Story, The, ii. 369.

- Nur al-Din and the Damsel Sitt al-Milah, ii. 277.

- On the Art of Enlarging Pearls, ii. 303.

- Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu, iii. 600.

- Prince who fell in love with the Picture, The, ii. 328.

- Sidi Nu’uman, History of, iii. 585.

- Simpleton Husband, The, ii. 332.

- Singer and the Druggist, The, ii. 305.

- Sleeper and the Waker, ii. 291.

- Ten Wazirs, or the History of King Azadbakht and his son, ii. 295.

- Thief’s Tale, The, ii. 369.

- Three men and our Lord Isa, The, ii. 332.

- Two Sisters who envied their Cadette, The, iii. 617.

- Weaver who became a leach by order of his wife, The, ii. 341.

- Women’s Wiles, ii. 372.

- Zayn al-Asnam, The tale of, iii. 553.

ADDITIONAL NOTES BY W. A. CLOUSTON.

- Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp, iii. 650.

- Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii. 650.

- Firuz and his Wife, ii. 378.

- Fuller, his wife and the Trooper, The, ii, 379.

- Prince Ahmad, The Tale of, iii. 652.

- Singer and the Druggist, The, ii. 378.

- Zayn al-Asnam, The Tale of, iii. 649.

BY W. F. KIRBY.

- Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. iv.; v. 505.

- Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. v.; v. 513.

- Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. vi.; vi. 351.

- Additional Bibliographical Notes to the Tales in the Supplemental Nights, vi. 356.

Appendix II.
ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF THE NOTES (ANTHROPOLOGICAL, &c.)

“A King and no Army,” vi. 10.

“A mighty matter” may also mean “A masterful man” (reading Imraan = man for Amran = matter), ii. 204.

A’atú Al-Wírah = gave in their submission, v. 405.

—— corresponds with Turk. “Wírah wírmek” = to capitulate (St.) v. 405.

Abadan = never at all, iii. 52.

Abadid (like Khadídán) non-significant, i. 103.

Abárík (Al-), pl. of Ibrík, an ewer containing water for the Wuzu-ablution, ii. 170.

’Abbás bin Mirdás (Chief of the Banu Sulaym) i. 40.

Abbasides traced their descent from Al-Abbas, i. 14.

’Abbús Al-, an intensive word meaning “Very stern faced,” vi. 232.

Abd al-Malik bin Marwán (not to be confounded with the Caliph, the tenth of the series) vi. 179.

Abd al-Malik bin Sálih, i. 159.

Abdullah Chelebi, called in old translation “Scheffander-Hassan,” vi. 177.

Abhak (composite word) i. 40.

Abíkám = “Abicam,” a Chaldæan Astrologer (Chavis) and Abimacam (Gauttier) vi. 26.

Ablution of whole body necessary after car. cop., v. 93.

Ab o hawá = climate, iii. 362.

Abraham (according to Jews and Christians emigrated to Harrán from “Ur of the Chaldees”) iii. 270.

—— (according to Moslem born in Harrán) iii. 269.

—— the “Friend of Allah,” vi. 104.

Absurdities to a European reader, are but perfectly natural to an Eastern coffee-house audience, v. 477.

Abtál (pl. of Batal) = champions, athletes (tr. “braves”) ii. 42.

Abtar = tailless (as applied to class of tales such as “Loves of Al-Hayfa and Yusuf”) v. 210.

Abú al-Hasan (cleverness of) i. 30.

—— al-Hasan-al-Khalí’a, i.e., The Wag (old version “debauchee”) i. 1.

—— al-Tawáif (pron. “Abu tawáif”) the Father of the (Jinn-) tribes, ii. 84.

—— Antiká = father of antiquities (new noun in Arabic) iii. 11.

—— Hamámah = “Father of a Pigeon” (i.e., surpassing in swiftness the carrier pigeon) v. 380.

—— Ishák, i.e., Ibrahim of Mosul the Musician, i. 14.

—— Ja’dah = father of curls (=a wolf) iv. 14.

—— Kásim al-Tambúrí = Abú Kásim the Drummer, iv. 209.

—— Niyyah and Abu Niyyatayn, History of various versions of the names, iv. 334.

Abú Nowás (appearing in The Nights, a signal for an outburst of obscenity), ii. 153.

—— Sábir = Father of the Patient (one), i. 81.

—— Sahíh = (flight to) a sure and safe place, vi. 149.

—— Sumayk = “Father of the Fishlet” (in old ver. “Yapousmek”) vi. 16.

—— Sumayk the Pauper, i.e., “The Father of the little Fish,” vi. 15.

Abúyah (a Fellah, vulg. for “Abí”) v. 418.

Adab = accomplishments, ii. 68.

“Adab” translated “Arabic,” i. 48.

Adam’s Sons = a term that has not escaped ridicule amongst Moslems, iii. 149.

Addíki = I will give thee (in the language of Fellahs) vi. 189.

Address to inanimate object highly idiomatic and must be cultivated by practical Arabists, iii. 150.

’Adu = an enemy (tr. “foe”) ii. 14.

Adi (Arab.) = So it is, v. 448.

Adí in Egypt. (not Arabic) is = that man, the (man) here, v. 118.

’Adím al-Zauk (Arab.), tr. “Lack-tacts” = to our deficiency in taste, manners, etc. (Here denoting “practical joking”) v. 455.

Adíní = Here am I, v. 118.

’Adl (Al-) = the Notary, i. 219.

Adoption of slave lads and lasses common among Moslems, i. 76.

’Adrán (Arab.) tr. “Sheeted,” the ✓ being ’Adr = much and heavy rain, iv. 7.

’Adúl = Assessors, i. 327.

Áfák Al- (pl. of Uík) “elegant” for the universe (tr. “all the horizons”) v. 66.

Afandiyah Al- (Arab.) = Efendis, iv. 41.

’Afár, tr. “sand devils,” a word frequently joined with “Ghubár” = dust (St.) iv. 262.

Affidavit amongst Moslems, iii. 411.

Afkah, a better Fakih or theologian, i. 244.

Afrákh al-Jinn, lit. = Chicks of the Jinns (tr. “Babes of the Jinns”) v. 202.

Afras = lit. a better horseman (tr. “doughtier”) ii. 105.

Africa (Arab. “Afrikíyah”), here used for the limited tract about Carthage (Tunis), i.e., Africa Propria, iii. 76.

Aghá of the Janákilah = the Chief man (Aghá) of the Gypsies, iv. 72.

Ágháwát (Aghas), meaning Eunuch officers and officials, iii. 112.

“Ahádís” esp. referred to the sayings of Mahommed, vi. 41.

Ahádís al-Kudus = sentences attributed to Archangel Gabriel, vi. 41.

—— al-Nabawí = the actual words pron. by Mahommed, vi. 41.

Ahbábu-ná pl. for sing. = my beloved (tr. “my friends”) ii. 103.

Ahmar = red, ruddy brown, dark brown, v. 347.

Ahú ’inda-k, tr. “Whatso thou broughtest here it be” (Pure Fellah speech), v. 366.

—— ma’í = “Here it is with me” (Pure Fellah speech), v. 265.

Ahwas al-’Ansárí (Al-) (Al-Akhwass Breslau Ed.) i. 42.

Ahyaf (alluding to Al-Hayfá) = (with waist full-) slight, v. 175.

“Ahy Tys” for which read “Tuhà Tays” a general feast (Houdas), vi. 187.

“Air hath struck me and cut my joints,” i.e., “I suffer from an attack of rheumatism” (common complaint in even the hottest climates), v. 160.

’Ajáib (pl. of ’Ajíb) = “Marvellous!” (used in Pers. as well as Arab.) iii. 181.

Ajal = the appointed day of death (tr. “appointed term”) i. 129.

’Ajam = Barbarian-land, v. 213.

Ajdár = Malady, vi. 162.

Ajíjíyah, possibly Ajínniyah = a dish of dough, vi. 160.

’Ajlan = a hasty man, i. 265.

Ajr (Al-) = Heaven, i. 290.

’Ajúz, a woman who ceases to have her monthly period (tr. “the old woman”) v. 52.

’Ajúz nahs = a foul crone, i. 310.

’Akákír (pl. of ’Akkár) = aromatic roots (tr. “simples”) i. 282.

Akbá’ pl. of “Kub’” = in pop. language, any part of garment covering head (St.) vi. 48.

“Akbá’ wa Zarábíl” tr. “Caps and slippers,” vi. 48.

Akhaztu dam wajhhi-há (Arab.) = “I bled her of the hymeneal blood,” iv. 42.

Akhbarú-hu (Arab.) = have given him (Yahyà) tidings, v. 156.

Akhmitu Ghazla-há lit. = thicken her yarn or thread, i. 206.

Akhyash Abná Sháh (second name may be “Shah of the Ebna” or Persian incolæ of Al-Yaman) vi. 12.

Akík = carnelian stone, v. 130.

—— Al- (Arab.) = carnelian, v. 52.

’Akíl, first cousin of Mahommed, ii. 164.

“Akkada la-hu ráy,” plur. of “ráyat” = a banner, i. 137.

“Akkál bula’hu” = commit all manner of abominations, vi. 70.

’Akl (Arab.) = comprehension, understanding, iv. 193.

“Akram” = the more generous (St.) iv. 304.

“Akrás al-Jullah,” tr. “dung cakes” (St.) v. 292.

Akwà min dahni’l-lauz = more strengthening than almond oil, ii. 75.

Akyál, pl. of “Kayl” = Kings of the Himyarite peoples, vi. 232.

“Ál bin Imrán” probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns, vi. 126.

’Alà al-Kaylah = “the place where they usually slept the siesta,” i. 34.

’Alà-Aklí, tr. “thou deservest naught for this,” v. 85.

“’Alà bábi ’lláh” (Arab.) = for the love of the Lord, gratis, etc., a popular phrase (tr. “At the Gate of Allah Almighty”) iv. 138.

“’Alà ghayri tarík” (Arab.) = “out of the way” (like Pers. “bí Ráh”) (St.) v. 224.

A hámati-hi = “upon the poll of his head” (rendered here “upon the nape of his neck”) v. 191.

Alà hudúd (or Alà hadd) al-Shauk (Arab.) = fulfilling all our desires, iv. 114.

Alà kám (for “kam,” how much?) peasants’ speech, iv. 224.

Alà kulli hál = “whatever may betide” or “willy nilly,” ii. 283.

“Alà Tarík al-Satr wa al-Salámah,” meaning that each other’s wives did not veil before their brothers-in-law, i. 270.

’Alá Yadín = Aláeddín, 265.

Alaeddin, a favourite with the stage, iii. 51.

Alaeddin, i.e. the “Height or Glory (’Alá) of the Faith (al-Din),” pron. Aláaddeen, iii. 51.

“’Alái al-Din” = Alaeddin, vi. 50.

’Alaka = he hung, iv. 149.

’Alakah khárijah = an extraordinary drubbing, vi. 84.

’Alam = a pile of stones (tr. a “mark”), i. 229.

’Alam al-Din = “Flag of the Faith,” ii. 4.

’Alamah = an undeflowered virgin, iii. 119.

’Álamína (’Awálim) = the (three) worlds, vi. 249.

Alaykum = “Peace be on you” (addressed to a single person) ii. 52.

Alexander the Great = Lord of the Two Horns, iii. 148.

“Alfi Hájatan” meaning “What dost thou want (in the way of amusement)? I am at thy disposal,” vi. 178.

“Alhamdolillah = Glory be to God!” = grace after meat, iv. 337.

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves (variants) iii. 369.

Ali bin Ibrahim, “a faithful Eunuch” (Scott) v. 184.

Ali, son-in-law of the Prophet (supposed author of Al-Jafr) vi. 168.

“Al-’iddah,” term of widowhood of divorcée, pregnant woman, etc., vi. 178.

“Alif, bá, tá, sá” (A.B.C.D.). The latter written with a Sin instead of a Thá, showing vulg. use which extends from Alex. to Meccah, vi. 37.

’Álim = a learned man, iii. 119.

’Alkam = the bitter gourd, colocynth, ii. 218.

Alkermes, i.e., “Al-Kirm” (Arab. and Pers.) = a worm, cochineal, vi. 5.

Allah (accomplish on them the ordinance of the Almighty) i. 100.

“Allah! Allah!” here meaning “Haste! haste!” iv. 71.

—— = “I conjure thee by God,” v. 302.

—— (Allah! Allah! sign of impatience) = Look sharp! i. 231.

—— Almighty hath done this = here lit. “hath given it to him,” v. 27.

—— (“An alms, for the love of”) ii. 44.

—— (and again by Allah) i. 9.

—— (be the judge between me and thee), ii. 52.

Allah! (called upon to witness a lie) i. 261.

—— (decreed of old), ii. 90.

—— (do thou be steadfast of purpose and rely upon) = “Let us be off,” pop. parlance, v. 66.

—— (“Enter in the name of” = Bismillah), ii. 38.

—— (Gifted of) ii. 200.

—— háfiz-ik (Arab.) = the pop. Pers. expression, “Khudá Háfiz” (“Allah be thy safeguard”) iv. 218.

—— (in peace of) i. 6.

—— (I look to, for aid) ii. 202.

—— (“I seek refuge with,” i.e., Allah forfend) ii. 9.

—— (I seek refuge with) = God forfend, i. 185.

—— (I will give him the covenant of) i. 179.

—— (is All-great) ii. 125.

—— (is threatening unbelievers) i. 51.

“—— kill all woman-kind,” v. 304.

—— (made easy to me) ii. 53.

—— (Men who resign themselves to = i.e., Moslems who practise the Religion of Resignation) ii. 271.

—— (name of, taken in vain) i. 87.

—— (O spirit of) i. 251.

—— (O worshipper of) (i.e., “O Moslem, opposed to enemy of Allah) = a non-Moslem,” v. 460.

“—— openeth,” “Allah veileth,” civil forms of refusal, iv. 315.

—— (open to thee the door of subsistence) ii. 44.

—— (Prince ’Ajíb forbidden to call upon name of), iii. 18.

—— (removed to the mercy of = he died) ii. 78.

“—— sent down a book confirmed,” a passage not Koranic, v. 47 (not a literal quotation, but alludes to Koran iii., 5) (St.) v. 47.

—— Shadow of—a title of the Shah, iii. 531.

—— (sued for pardon of Almighty) a pious exclamation (“Astaghfiru ’llah”) v. 136.

—— (Take refuge with, from the Evil eye of her charms) ii. 245.

—— (the peace of, be upon you and the ruth of Allah) i. 14.

Allah (This is the deposit of, then thy deposit = “I commit him to thy charge under God”) ii. 184.

—— (while Almighty Allah willed) = a long time, i. 351.

—— (whom Allah save and assain) ii. 173.

—— ya’tik = Allah will give it thee, (not I) ii. 44.

Allah’s path (a Martyr on) = a Martyr of love, vi. 131.

Alláho Akbar = God is most Great (war cry) v. 403.

“Allazí ’amaltu fí-him, etc.” = Those to whom I did a good turn, requite me with the contrary thereof (St.) iv. 253.

Almahs (fem. of ’Álim = a learned man) = professional singing and dancing girls, iii. 119.

Almás, Arab. (from ἀδάμας, and in Hind. “Hírá” and “Panná”) = diamond, iii. 354.

Almond-Tree “Be not like unto the,” (a lieu commun in the East) vi. 7.

—— = the Heb. “Sháked” and the fruit is “Loz” (Arab. Lauz) = Amygdalus communis, vi. 7.

Alms-gift = whatso exceedeth Viaticum (“Jáizah”), or the three days guest hospitality, vi. 26.

Alwán, pl. of Laun, meats of all kinds and colours, vi. 122.

“Amán” (Arab.) = quarter, mercy (tr. “safety”) iv. 30.

Amán = Pardon (lit. “security”), i. 118.

Amawi Mosque of Damascus, one of the four Wonders of the Moslem world, iv. 36.

“Ambergris’d” coffee, sherbet, etc., (aphrodisiac) iii. 31.

’Amil Rasad (Arab.) = lit., acting as an observatory, iv. 341.

Amín = Overseer, i. 67.

—— al-Hukm = “Faithful of Command,” ii. 7.

—— (Al-) Sixth Abbaside A.D. 809–13, i. 175.

Áminah, i.e., the secure (fem.) iii. 326.

Amírala (wife of Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis) meaning, if anything, “Colonel” or Captain, R.N., vi. 225.

Ammál (Arab.), vulg. written with initial Hamzah = “Verily”, “I believe you my boy” (tr. “Assuredly”), vi. 11.

’Ammál (Arab.). With the Ayn may mean “he intended,” or “he was about to,” vi. 11.

’Ammir = cause to flourish (tr. “Take and people”), i. 243.

Amourist justified in obtaining his object by fair means or foul, i. 313.

Amsaytu = I came at evening, i. 316.

Amsik (Arab.), a “chaff” with the Turks—meaning cunnus-penis, iv. 93.

—— lisána-k (Arab.) = “hold thy tongue,” iv. 93.

’An Abí = (a propitiatory offering) for my father, i. 265.

“Ana ’l-Tabib, al-Mudáwi” (Arab.) = I am the leach, the healer, v. 326.

“Aná min ahli zálika,” tr. “I am of the folk of these things” (vulg. equiv. would be “Kizí,”) (for “Kazálika,” “Kazá”) = so (it is) v. 50.

Anakati-h (Arab.) tr. “neck,” v. 427.

Anbar (tr. “Ambergris”) ii. 67.

“—And the Peace!” = “There is an end of the matter,” vi. 105.

’Andalíb, nightingale, iii. 506.

Andromeda and Perseus, Myth of, brought down to St. George and the Dragon, iv. 261.

’Anfakati-h = the hair between the lower lips and the chin, also chin itself (St.), v. 427.

’Anká (Al-) = lit. “The long-necked” (bird), ii. 128.

Animals (lower) breeding with men, iv. 331.

Anjar = a flat platter (Pers.) iv. 143.

“Annus Domini” = Age (the worst disease in human life) iv. 3.

Ant, Koranic legend of the, vi. 99.

Ant’ amilta maskhará (for maskharah) matah (for matà) idiomatical Fellah-tongue, v. 269.

—— aysh (for “man” decidedly not complimentary) “What (thing) art thou?” v. 298.

“Anta jáibb(un) bas rájul (an) wáhid (an)” = veritable and characteristic peasant’s jargon, v. 359.

Antum fí Kháshin wa básh (an error for Khásh-másh) = a miserable condition, vi. 137.

Anushirwán (in full Anúshínrawán) = sweet of soul, P.N. of Pers. King, vi. 44.

Aorist, preceded by preposition “bi,” v. 432.

Aphrodisiacs, iii. 133.

Apocrypha, Tobias, etc., iv. 78.

“Après moi le déluge,” ii. 123.

’Arab al-’Arbá = Arabian Arabs, iii. 134.

Arab al-Arbá = prehistoric Arabs, iii. 145.

—— lovers jealous of their mistresses’ nightly phantom, ii. 179.

——, of noble tribe, always first to mount his own mare, ii. 248.

“Arabia Deserta” (Mr. Doughty’s) quoted v. 10, 53, 405.

’Arafát, fête of; the day of the Sermon, when pilgrims sleep at Muzdalifah, vi. 41.

Arafshah = superintendent, i. 20.

’Arakiyah = Skull-cap, vi. 48.

Arám (pl. of Irm), a beautiful girl, a white deer (tr. “Reems”) i. 43.

’Aramramí = flocking and crowding, vi. 195.

Ardabb (prop.) “Irdabb” = five bushels, iv. 290.

Ardashir (King), son of Bábak, iii. 180.

“Arghá” for “Arkhá” = he “brayed” (like an ostrich) for “his limbs relaxed,” iv. 31.

Arja’ = lit. return (tr. here “Desist”) ii. 105.

Armaghánát (Arab.) pl. of “Armaghán” (Pers.) a present, iv. 59.

Arm-pit, Hair shaven or plucked from, iv. 153.

’Arsah (Arab.) akin to Mu’arris = a pimp, a pander, iv. 208.

“Arsh,” = the Ninth Heaven, v. 178.

Arstable (astrolabe) iii. 159.

“Art thou (Al-Hajjáj) from Cairo,” a neat specimen of the figure anachronism. (Al-Hajjáj died A.H. 95; Cairo built A.H. 358) v. 41.

’Arús muhallíyah “a bride tricked out,” v. 468.

Arwà written with a terminal yá is a woman’s P.N. in Arabic, i. 94.

Arz (Arab.), from the Heb. “Arz” or “Razah” (✓ raz = to vibrate) = Cedar (of Lebanon), vi. 5.

Arzi-há = in its earth, its outlying suburbs (tr. “Environs”) ii. 198.

’Asá = Staff, one of the properties of Moslem Saints, iii. 183.

“’Asá Fír,” i.e. “Fír is rebellious,” vi. 102.

’As’as = to complicate a matter, vi. 174.

Asáfír, pl. of “’Usfúr” = a bird, a sparrow, vi. 102.

Asáfírí (olives, etc.) iii. 405.

Asár, clerical error for Sár = Vendetta, blood revenge, i. 134.

Asfandíyâr = two heroes of the Shahnameh, both types of reckless daring, iii. 524.

’Ashama, lit. = he greeded for, v. 285.

Ashdak, usually applied to a wide-chapped face, iv. 91.

Ashghaftíní (see Shaghaftíní) vi. 15.

Ashírah = clan, ii. 225.

Ashkhákh Al- (Arab.), pl. of Shakhkh = lit. the “Stales” (tr. “Skite and piss”) (Steingass reads “bi ’l-Shakhákh” the usual modern word for urine) v. 265.

Ashkhás (pl. of Shakhs) = images = (vulg. used in Moslem realms in the sense of persons or individuals) iii. 12.

Ashrafí (Port. Xerafim), a gold coin whose value has varied, iii. 294.

’Asharah Mlah (Al) = ten times one, hundred, ib. “one hundred for the (i.e., every) ten” (St.) iv. 28.

Ashrafi, a gold coin of variable value, iv. 143;

- the Portuguese Xerafim, iv. 38.

Ash-Shabakah bitáht al-Sayd = thy net for fishing, iv. 9.

’Ashshár or Tither, i. 243.

Ashur, four sons of (according to Arabs) vi. 3.

’Ásí (Al-) = rebel, syn. with Pers. “Yághí,” i. 134.

Aská-hu ’alakah = gave him a sound drubbing (’alakah), vi. 58.

Asmá al-Adwíyah = names of the medicines, i. 283.

Ass (loan of) usually granted gratis in Fellah villages and Badawi camps, v. 460.

—— (the “cab” of modern Egypt), v. 281.

Assemblage of dramatis personæ at end of a scene highly artistic and equally improbable, v. 31.

Asshúr = Assyria, vi. 3.

Assyrian correspondence, the simplicity of, vi. 12.

“Astaghfiru ’llah,” a pious exclamation, humbling oneself before the Creator (tr. “sued for pardon of Almighty Allah”) v. 136.

Astrology and astronomy, iii. 159.

Astrolabe (tr. “Astronomical-gear”) iii. 159.

Asúr, in the text, “Atúr,” the scriptural “Asshur” = Assyria, vi. 3.

At her last breath, when cured by the magic of love, ii. 243.

Athr = sign, mark, trail (tr. “Scar”) i. 280.

’Atík = antique, iii. 11.

Atrábulus (also Tarábulus), Arabisations of Tripolis, iv. 169.

Atráf (pl. of “Tarf”) = great and liberal lords (tr. “chiefs”) i. 58.

’Atrús, King (? Heron’s “Illabousatrous”) vi. 234.

Attáf (named by Heron Chebib, also “Xakem Tai-Chebib” = Hátim Tayy Habíb), vi. 169.

Attáf, Tale of (Cotheal MS.), vi. 196.

—— Tale of, title compared with Gauttier and Heron, vi. 167.

“Atúr,” scriptural “Asshur” = Assyria, vi. 3.

Atwash (Al-) = one notable for levity of mind, ii. 16.

Audáj (Arab.) pl. of “Wadaj,” applying indiscriminately to the carotid arteries and jugular veins, v. 340.

Audán (pl. of the pop. “Widn” of “Wudn” for the literary “Uzn” = ear) (St.), v. 301.

Aulád-i = sons (vulg. plural for dual), i. 132.

’Aun, a high degree among the Jinns, a tribe of the Jinn, sometimes syn. with Márid, iv. 80, 302.

’Aurat = nakedness, tr. “shame,” v. 75.

’Ausaj = bushes, v. 456.

Auzah (Arab.), a popular word in Egypt and Syria (Pers. “Oták,” and Turk. “Otah”) iv. 40.

A’úzu bi ’lláhi min al-Sháytáni’l-Rajím = I take refuge with Allah against Satan the Stoned (St.) iv. 242.

’Awán lit. = aids, helpers (tr. “guards”), i. 253.

Award o burd (Pers.) = brought and bore away, i. 210.

Ay Ni’am (Yea, verily, Yes indeed), an emphatic and now vulgar expression, iii. 14, 31.

’Ayn turned into H., i.e., Bitáht for Bitá’at, iv. 9.

“Ayoh” (in text), tr. “here he is”; a corr. of “Í (or Ayy) hú” = yes indeed he, v. 265.

Aysh = Ayyu Shayyin, what? iv. 207.

—— (Arab.) = Ayyu Shayyin and Laysh = li ayyi Shayyin, a popular corruption of olden date, iii. 122.

“—— Khabara-k?” = how art thou? iii. 122.

Aywah (different spelling for “aywa”) = “yes indeed,” or contraction for Ay (Í) wa ’lláhi = “yes, by Allah” (St.) v. 265.

Ayyám al-Nifás (Arab.) = the forty days after labour, during which a woman may not cohabit with her husband, iii. 502.

“’Ayyik” or “Ayyuk” = a hinderer (of disease), vi. 174.

’Ayyinah, probably a misreading for ’Ayniyyah = a sample, pattern (St.) iv. 290.

’Ayyúk = Capella, a bright star, vi. 174.

Azán-hú = lit. “its ears” (tr. “its pegs”) ii. 159.

Azay má tafút-ní? = how canst thou quit me? vi. 290.

Azbad (Arab.) from ✓ Zbd (Zabd) = foaming, frothing, iv. 31.

“Azlam” = the more iniquitous (St.), iv. 304.

Azm = Koranic versets, which avert evil, vi. 19.

Aznání = emaciated one, ii. 214.

Azzamín = Charmers, i.e., men who recite the Azm, vi. 19.

Baba Abdullah = Daddy Abdullah, iii. 311.

Báb al-Nasr, the grand old Eastern or Desert-gate of Cairo, v. 457.

Baba used in Pers., Turk., and Hindostan, for Dad! Dear! Child! iii. 311.

Bábúj (from “Bábúg” from the Pers. “Pay-púsh” = foot-clothing), tr. “papoosh,” v. 442.

Bábúk, or “Bábúnak” (Pers.) = the white Camomile flower, vi. 27.

Backgammon = “(jeu de) dames,” a term of European origin, iii. 180.

Bádám or Bídám (almond), used by way of small change, iii. 348.

Badawí dogs dangerous, i. 316.

—— tent, v. 116.

Badr, Al- (pl. Budúr) = the “Full Moon,” v. 198.

Badrah, lit. a myriad, ten thousand dirhams, i. 278.

—— (Arab.) = a purse of ten thousand dirhams, v. 58.

Badr al-Budúr, i.e. Full moon of full moons, iii. 95.

Badrat Zahab = a purse of gold (St.) v. 58.

Bágh = Royal tiger, iii. 530.

Baghdad (explained), iii. 25.

Bahár = ox-eye, ii. 13.

—— (Arab.) often used for hot spices (tr. “pimento”), iv. 138.

Bahlúl, a famous type of madman, v. 88.

—— Al- = the “Bahalul” of D’Herbelot, vi. 155.

Bahluwán (Arab. for Pers. Pahluwán) = a brave, a warrior, i. 131.

Bahman, meaning one of the Spirits that presides over beasts of burden, iii. 502.

Bahr al-Azrak = the Blue Sea (Mediterranean) vi. 256.

—— al-Muhít (Arab.) = Circumambient Ocean, iv. 323.

Bahrjaur (in Pers. Bahr-i-Jaur = luck of Jaur-city) i. 57.

Bak’ah (=“a hollow where water collects”) and “Buk’ah” (=“a patch of ground”) compared, vi. 12.

Bakar (Ox) and Taur (Bull) Moslem emblems of stupidity, ii. 178.

Bakar = black cattle, whether bull, cow, or ox, vi. 136.

Bakhshísh (written “Bakshísh” after Fellah-fashion) iv. 243.

Bakht = luck, good fortune, iii. 331.

—— (i) Zamán (Persian) = Luck of the Time, i. 102.

Bákiyah = may also mean Eternal, as opposed to Fániyah = temporal (tr. “abide”) i. 39.

Bákúlat = pot-herbs (tr. “almond cakes”), probably clerical error for “Bakláwát,” i. 261.

Bákúr = driving-sticks, v. 10.

Bál (Arab.) sing. Bálah = a tale, iv. 210.

Balass ruby = of rare wood, set with rubies, ii. 251.

Balát = the flags (slabs of limestone and sandstone) ii. 21.

Baliyah = bane and bale (to jingle with “Bábiliyah”) ii. 153.

Ballát, limestone, slabs cut in the Torah quarries south of Cairo, v. 80.

Baltah, for Turk. “Báltah” = an axe, a hatchet, v. 336.

Baltah-ji, a pioneer, one of the old divisions of the Osmanli troops, surviving as a family name amongst Levantines, v. 336.

Bámiyah = Gumbo, etc., of Brit. India (tr. “rose-mallows”) iv. 243.

Banát al-hawá = lit. daughters of love (tr. here “a merry girl”) ii. 137.

Bandukah = a little bunduk, nut, bullet, (tr. “degrees”) i. 353.

Banj akrítashí = Cretan Bhang, i. 9.

Banj al-tayyar, i.e., volatile = that which flies fastest to the brain (tr. “flying Bhang”) v. 26.

Bánú = a lady, a dame of high degree, iii. 419.

Banú Adam = Sons of Adam (as opposed to Banú Elohim = Sons of the Gods) iii. 88.

Banú al-Asfar = Sons of the yellow (Esau’s posterity in Edom) iii. 88.

Banú al-Khashkhash = Sons of the (black) poppy (viz. Ethiopians) iii. 88.

Banú Ghálib, v. 43

Banú Hilál, a famous tribe, vi. 225.

Banú Shaybán = the King’s own tribe, ii. 199.

Banú Tay, the tribe of the chieftain and poet Hátim Táí, i. 179.

Banú Thakíf, a noble tribe sprung from Iyád, v. 46.

Barári or deserts, ii. 16.

Barbarians (Matthew Arnold’s) iv. 280.

Barbasa (with dental sibilant “Sín”) = he sought, looked for (with palatial sibilant “Sád”) = he watered the ground abundantly (St.) iv. 291.

Barbastu = besmeared, iv. 291.

Barber, being a surgeon ready to bleed a madman, v. 277.

—— the usual operator in circumcision, ii. 116.

Bardawán, the well-known city in Hindostan whose iron was famous, vi. 71.

Barniyah = Pot (in which manna was collected) i. 265.

“Bartamán” for “Martaban” = a pot, jar, etc. (tr. “a crock”) iv. 204–223.

Báshá (Arab. form of Turk. “Pasha”) derivation, iv. 137.

“Bashákhín,” pl. of “Bashkhánah” = hangings, arras, vi. 44.

Bashárah, can hardly be applied to ill news (faulty text), i. 34.

Bashárah, Al- (Arab.) = a gift of good news, iv. 307.

Basíl, son of “Ashur,” vi. 3.

Bashkhánah (corr. of Pers. “Peshkhánah = state-tents sent forward on march”) tr. here “a hanging,” v. 131.

—— custom of, among Eastern Moslems, v. 106.

Bashkhánah (Al-) = the Curtain, ii. 165.

Bassorah-city = “Balsorah” (Galland), “Bansrá” (H.V.) iii. 3.

Bast, a preparation of Bhang (Cannabis sativa) iv. 19.

Bastinado used to extort confession, i. 148.

Bát (for “Bit”) = Pass the night here (in Fellah speech) iv. 246.

—— = “the night has passed” (St.) iv. 246.

Bathá = lowlands and plains outside Meccan Valley, i. 42.

Bathah = inner court, i. 284.

Bathing after copulation kept up by both sexes in ancient Rome, ii. 142.

Batiyah (Arab.) gen. = a black jack, a leathern flagon (tr. “Keg”) iv. 125.

Bayt al-Mukaddas = Sanctified House, iii. 407.

Bazzistán (Arab.-Pers.) = market-place for Bazz = cloth, iii. 431.

Bawwábah Al = a place where doorkeepers meet, a police-station (tr. “guard-house”) v. 309.

Baybúnah (prop. “Bábúnaj” in Arab., and “Bábúk” in Pers.) = the white Camomile flower, vi. 27.

Bayn farsi-k wa ’l-damí = lit. between fœces and menses (tr. “thy droppings and drippings”) i. 41.

Baysár or Baysárah, a dish peculiar to Egypt = beans seasoned with milk and honey, iv. 176. Also “Baysár” or “Faysár,” iv. 291.

Bayzah (Arab.) = an egg, a testicle, v. 360.

Bazaka = brought out, i. 209.

“Bean and ’twas split, A,” proverb suggesting “par nobile fratrum,” iii. 179.

Beating the bosom with a sunbaked brick, i. 34.

Bed (on roof) made of carpet or thin mattress strewn upon the stucco flooring of the terrace roof, v. 219.

Beef, causes dysenteric disease, v. 51.

Bell as a fringe to the Ephod of High Priest, vi. 100.

Bel the idol (or Ba’al or Belus, the Phœnician and Canaanite head-god) vi. 26.

Bghb (evidently for “Baght,” or preferably “Baghtatan”) vi. 78.

Bhang-eaters, indecencies of, iv. 196.

“Bi,” the particle proper of swearing, v. 470.

Bí-adabí = being without Adab, (means rudeness, etc.) ii. 68.

Bi al-Salám = in the Peace (of Allah) i. 6.

“Bi Asri-hi” (Arab.) lit. “rope and all;” metaphorically used = altogether entirely (tr. “the World universal”) vi. 108.

Bibars (pron. “Baybars”) ii. 3.

“Bí, Bí, Bí,” compare the French “Brr”, vi. 77.

Bid’ah = lit. an innovation, a new thing (tr. here “accursed custom”) ii. 266.

Bíhkamál (Pers. and Arab.) = “Good Perfection,” i. 107.

Bihkard = “Well he did,” i. 107.

Bihzad (Persian) = Bih (well, good) Zád (born) i. 89.

Biiru-milyánah Moyah (with various forms of “Moyah”) v. 323.

“Bi-izá-humá” lit. vis-à-vis to the twain, v. 69.

Bi jildi ’l-bakar = a cow hide, ii. 96.

Bi-Khátiri-k = Thy will be done (tr. “At thy pleasure”), v. 322.

“Bilád al-Maghrib (al-Aksa” in full) = the Farthest Land of the Setting Sun (tr. “Sundown-Land”) ii. 252.

Bilal = moisture, beneficence, etc., i. 40.

“Bilám” here = the headstall of the bridle (St.) v. 381.

“Billáhi,” i.e., “by Allah,” v. 470.

Bilisht = The long span between thumb-tip and minimus-tip, iii. 353.

“Bi-Má al-fasíkh ’alà Akrás al-Jullah” (tr. “Save with foul water upon the disks of dung”) v. 292.

Bímáristán (Arab. from Pers.) = a “sick house”, hospital, madhouse, iv. 48.

Bir al-Khátim = Well of the signet, i. 165.

Birkah = a fountain basin, lake, pond, reservoir (tr. “hole”) v. 117.

Birkat Far’aun = Pharaoh’s Pool, vi. 98.

Bi-sab’a Sikak = lit. “with seven nails” (meaning here posts whereto chains were attached) v. 380.

Bisáta-hum = their carpets (tr. “warehouses”) vi. 124.

Bishangarh, iii. 422.

Bishr and Hind (two well-known lovers), ii. 211.

“Bismillah” = Enter in the name of Allah, ii. 38.

Bísmillah = grace before meat, iv. 337.

“Bismillah; in the name of the Lord” = “Let us go,” etc., ii. 85.

Bisnagar (corruption of Sanskrit Vijáyanagara = City of Victory) iii. 422.

Bitá’i (Arab.) = my own, iv. 9.

“Bi-Wujúh al-Fániját al-Miláh” (reading “al-Ghániját” in app. with “al-Miláh”), render “the faces of the coquettish, the fair” (St.) v. 80.

Biyarza’ fí Asábí-hi (only instance in MS. where the aorist is preceded by preposition “bi”) (St.) v. 432.

Blackening faces a promise of Hell-fire, ii. 42.

Bloody sweat, v. 149.

Blood-feuds troublesome to travellers, ii. 222.

“Blood hideth not from blood” (equiv. to Scotch “Blood is thicker than water”) iii. 54.

Blood moved between them (a “pathetic fallacy”) i. 77.

—— red tears, v. 149.

—— revenge religiously laudable, iii. 180.

“—— speaking to blood,” popular superstition, excusing unwarrantable liberties in Royal personages, iii. 531.

Blowing a man up with bellows, i. 351

Book of Bakhtyár (Persian Bakhtyár Námeh) “The ten Wazirs, etc.,” i. 55.

Bostán al-Nuzhah = the Garden of Pleasance, i. 29.

Bráhmani = Hindu, Indian, ii. 111.

Brain-pans (good old classical English) v. 219.

Branchlet = a youth’s bending form, ii. 162.

Breslau Edition quoted, i. 1, 4, 15, 25, 39, 42, 47, 51, 55, 58, 60, 121, 131, 134, 159, 165, 171, 175, 179, 185, 191, 266, 334, 359; ii. 3, 54, 55, 63, 67, 151, 183, 191, 259, 263, 275; iii. 51; v. 117, 118, 419.

Bribing the Kazi’s wife, v. 364.

Bridegroom offers coffee and Halwá to friends after a “happy night,” ii. 142.

Bridge at Baghdah made of the ribs of Og bin ’Unk (=Og of the Neck) iii. 19.

—— of Sanjia in Northern Syria is one of the four Wonders of the Moslem world, iv. 36.

Brow white as day and hair black as night (common conceit) iii. 96.

Brutality of a Moslem mob, ii. 168.

Buk’ah (=“a piece of low ground”) and Bak’ah (=“a hollow where water collects”) compared, vi. 12.

Bukhári = a place for steaming, iii. 355.

Bakhtí = The Bactrian or double-humped dromedary, ii. 235.

Buksumah (Arab.) = “hard bread” (tr. “biscuit”) iv. 169.

Bulaybul (Al-) = the little nightingale, Philomelet, iv. 245.

Bulbul-i-hazár-dástán (Arab.), usually shortened to “Hazár” = bird of a thousand tales = the Thousand, in Arab. called ’Andalíb, iii. 506.

“Bull- (Taur for Thaur or Saur)—numbered-and-for-battle-day-lengthened” (tr. The Bull-aye-ready-and-for Battle-aye-steady) v. 160.

Bull used in the East to turn the mill and water-wheel, iv. 294.

Bundukáni (Al-) = the cross-bow or pellet-bow man, vi. 53.

Bunduki (adj. of Bunbuk) = Venetian, ii. 204.

Bunúd (pl. of Pers. “band”) = hypocrisy, deceit (tr. “quiddities”) i. 353.

Burd (pl. of Burdah) = mantle or woollen plaid of striped stuff, v. 42.

Burka’ = the face veil of Egypt, etc., ii. 172.

—— = Nosebag, v. 91.

—— veil or “Nosebag,” iv. 282.

Burúj (pl. of Burj) = lit. towers (tr. “mansions”) i. 353.

Búsah (doubtful meaning), possibly reed used as a case or sheath (St.) v. 108.

But-Khánah = idol house, syn. with But-Kadah = image cuddy (tr. “Pagodas”) iii. 427.

Búyúrdi, Al- (cler. error for “Buyúruldi”) = the written order of a Governor, vi. 180.

“By the life of my youth,” a “swear” peculiarly feminine, and never used by men, v. 85.

Bye Names, vi. 84.

Byron in England, v. 274.

Bystanders excited about some matter in no way concerning them, i. 303.

Cafilah, i.e., caravan, iv. 222.

“——” (Shaykh of) for Cafila, v. 419.

“Cage of Clapham,” iii. 501.

Cairo (magnificent city of Egypt), iii. 58.

Calcutta Edition quoted, ii. 137, 141.

Caliph can do no wrong, i. 167.

—— Omar bin Abd al-Aziz (The Good Caliph) i. 39.

Caliphs under the early Ommiades, v. 39.

“Camaralzaman” (olden versions) = “Complete Time,” for “Moon of the Age,” vi. 233.

Camel (not customary to mount lady upon in India) iii. 294.

—— (“Ushtur” or “Unth”) iii. 294.

Camels made drunk with Bhang, or Indian hemp, to make extended marches, vi. 244.

Camel’s pasture divided into “Khullah” (Sweet food called bread) and “Hámiz” termed fruit, iv. 7.

Camomile flower (white), vi. 27.

Camphor, use of, iii. 361.

“Can play with the egg and the stone,” i.e., “can play off equally well the soft-brained and the hard-brained,” v. 277.

Cap of the “Sútarí” or jester of the Arnaut (Albanian) regiments, v. 276.

—— worn by professional buffoon, v. 276.

Carpet (the Flying), prototype of, iii. 425.

Carrion (animals that died without being ceremonially killed) ii. 175.

Cat, a sacred animal amongst the Egyptians, vi. 31.

Cedar of Lebanon, vi. 5.

Census of the Exodus (Exposition by Mr. Thayer), vi. 113.

—— should not be made without direct command of Creator (superstitious idea) iv. 308.

“Chafariz” (fountain) of Portugal (der. from Sakáríj) v. 5.

Chamber (a dangerous word in English) ii. 129.

Change from first person into third, looseness of style in the MS. (St.) iv. 282.

Changes, contradictions and confusions inherent in Arab. stories, iii. 93.

“Changul” (with three dotted Chím) = red gold, vi. 251.

Chapter of the Cow (Koran) ii. 175.

Chaugán (Persian) = the crooked bat used in polo, i. 109.

Chavis quoted, vi. 12, ib. 15, 16, 53, 54, 56, 59, 63, 68, 72.

Chavis and Cazotte quoted, i. 55, 60, 65, 73, 81, 89, 94, 95, 97, 102, 103, 107, 112, 121, 131, 147, 151; iv. 49, 64, 66; v. 27.

Cheek, he set his right hand upon, meaning he rested his cheek upon his right hand, v. 9.

Chenery quoted, iv. 7; vi. 7, 54, 73, 84, 89, 94, 97, 124, 159, 183, 225, 241.

Chess rarely played for money in Europe, ii. 205.

Chhuchhundar, Hind. (Sorex cœrulescens) = musk-rat, iii. 500.

“Chifte,” from Pers. “Juft” = a pair, any two things coupled together (St.) vi. 67.

Child-bed customs amongst Moslems, iv. 177.

“Children” used for fighting men, ii. 224.

China = the normal Oriental “despotism, tempered by assassination,” iii. 164.

Chob-dár = rod-bearer, mace-bearer, usher, etc., iii. 125.

Church of Rohah (Edessa), one of the four Wonders of the Moslem world, iv. 36.

Circumcision, ii. 90.

—— (Jewish rite), must always be performed by the Mohel, an official of the Synagogue, v. 217.

—— three operations of, v. 217.

Circumstantial (affecting the), a favourite manœuvre with the Ráwí, v. 233.

—— evidence not lawful amongst Moslems, i. 112.

Circus tricks with elephants, horses, etc., iii. 430.

Cistern or tank in terrace-roof of Syrian houses, v. 246.

Citadel of Lead = Capital of King Al-Shisban, ii. 117.

Cloud (which contains rain) always typical of liberality and generous dealing, v. 179.

—— of Locusts believed by Arabs to be led by a King locust (the Sultan Jarád) i. 305.

Chronique de Tabari quoted, iv. 3–5.

Cob-houses, iv. 214.

Cock and the Fox (Fable of whose moral is that the biter is often bit) vi. 145.

Cock-speak = a natural clock called by West Africans Cokkerapeek, i. 10.

Coffee, iv. 198.

—— and sherbet, mention of, makes the tale synchronous with that of Ma’arúf, or the xvii. century, iv. 55.

—— and smoking, v. 236.

Cohen = a priest either of the true God or of false gods, vi. 109.

Coinage of Baghdad, iii. 294.

Concealments inevitable in ancient tale or novel, v. 417.

Conclusions of Tales compared, iii. 303.

Condition of forfeits (lit. order and acceptance), i. 175.

Confections, or sweetmeats used by way of restoratives in the Bath, iv. 56.

Conjuration, a specimen of Islamised Mantra (in Sanskrit “Stambhaná”) intended to procure illicit intercourse, vi. 126.

Connexion of Beasts with Humans, and consequences thereof, iv. 331.

Conundrum or riddle, vi. 97.

Cook and Cooking, Egyptian or Syrian compared with English, iv. 174.

Corpse sprinkled with water, etc., iv. 257.

Cossid (Arab. Kásid), an Anglo-Indian term = a running carrier, iv. 123.

Cotheal MS. quoted, vi. 167, 168, 169, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 179, 181, 184, 186, 192.

Couch of Circumcision, ii. 111.

Couplets rhyming in “—ání” and “—álí” not lawful, v. 128.

Courser, rubbing his cheeks upon his master’s back and shoulders, v. 405.

Court of Baghdad was, like the Urdú (Horde or Court) of “Grand Mogul,” organised after the ordinance of an army in the field, vi. 81.

“Cousin” more polite than “wife,” vi. 188.

Cramoisy (dressed from head to foot in), a royal sign of wrath denoting torture or death, iv. 63.

Cranes of Ibycus, ii. 59.

Crepitus ventris, iv. 231.

“Cried out from her head” = Sang in tenor tones which are always in falsetto, ii. 238.

Crows, audacious, and dangerous to men lying wounded, iii. 344.

Crucifixion, vi. 261.

—— by nailing to an upright board, ii. 49.

Cuckold, origin of, i. 205.

Cuddy, der. from Pers. “Kadah” = a room, v. 24.

Cup-companions = the professional Ráwís or tale reciters, ii. 266.

“Cut the way” = became a highwayman, i. 90.

Cutting the way (i.e., waylaying travellers) i. 60.

Curiosity (playing upon the bride’s) = a favourite topic in Arab. and all Eastern folk-lore, v. 443.

Crystalline Isles, vi. 234.

Cynocephalus famed for venery, iv. 333.

Dabbah = wooden bolt, v. 265.

Dabbús = a mace, i. 95.

—— bazdaghání (trans. as if from Pers. “Bazdagh” = a file) tr. a “file-wrought mace,” vi. 71.

Dabdihkán, a physician (Cotheal MS.) vi. 174.

Dabshalímat = the Dabshalíms, the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanáth in Western India, vi. 23.

Dád-bín (Persian) = one who looks to justice, i. 94.

Dahab ramli (Arab.) = gold-dust washed out of the sand, placer-gold (tr. “pure sand-gold”) iii. 126.

Dáhiyat al-Dawáhí = a calamity of the Calamities, ii. 119.

Dahmár (King) called by Scott “Rammaud,” v. 105.

Dahn (Arab.) = oil, ointment (tr. “sweetest unguent”), vi. 10.

Dainty food (Egyptian or Syrian Cook compared with English) iv. 174.

Daïs (place of honour) i. 16.

Dajlah River (Tigris), vi. 122.

Dakhlah Al- (Arab.) = the night of going in, iv. 42.

Dallál = broker (same as Sáhib = owner), iv. 224.

Damascus City (der. from Dimishk) called Shám (Cotheal MS.) vi. 167.

Dán (with dual Dánayn) and “Wudn” (with plural “Audán”) are pop. forms for literary “Uzn” (St.) vi. 245.

—— Al- (cler. error for Al-Uzn = ear), vi. 245.

Dáúnk (Pers. “Dáng”) = one-sixth of a dirham, i.e., about a penny halfpenny, i. 245.

Dann = Amphora (Gr. ἀμφορεύς short for ἀμφιφορεύς = having two handles), tr. “two-handed jar,” v. 198.

Dara’ or Dira’ = armour (tr. “jerkin,”) ii. 209.

Darabukkah-drum (or “tom-tom”) v. 13.

Darajah = an instant; also a degree (of the Zodiac) tr. “one watch.”

—— is also used for any short space of time (St.) v. 90.

Darajatáni (Arab.), lit. = two astronomical degrees (tr. “a couple of hours”) iv. 110.

Dár al-Salám = Abode of Peace, i. 11.

Dár al-Ziyáfah (in Northern Africa) = kind of caravanserai in which travellers are lodged at Government expense, v. 330.

Darb = lit. a road (tr. “street”) ii. 8.

Darbálah (Arab.), corresponding with Egypt. “Darábukkah,” a tabor of wood or earthenware (tr. “little drum”) iv. 43. Also part of the regular Darwaysh’s begging gear, iv. 43.

Darb al-Mandal (Egypt.) = Striking the magic circle in which enchanter sits when he conjures up spirits (a form of second sight) iv. 45.

—— al-Záji = the street of the copperas-maker, vi. 60.

Darbár (Hind.), term for Royal Levée = Selám (Pers.) iii. 451.

“Darbisí al-báb” (from the Pers. “Darbastan” = to tie up, to shut), tr. “Do thou bar,” vi. 69.

“Darín” for “Zarín” = what is powdered, collyrium, v. 111.

Darwaysh (Pers.), pron. by Egyptians “Darwísh,” iii. 313.

Darwayshah (Arab.) = a she-Fakir (tr. “religious mendicant”) iv. 217.

Darwayshes suspected of kidnapping, iv. 153.

Daryábár, der. from “Daryá,” the sea, and “bar” = a region, iii. 281.

—— (Pers. = the ocean land), a fancy name for a country, iii. 281.

Dashísh (Arab.), tr. “flour” (Dicts. make “wheat broth to be sipped”) v. 347.

“Dasht-i-lá-siwá-Hú” = a desert wherein is none save He (Allah), a howling wilderness, iii. 284.

Dastí = thou trampledst, i. 146.

Dastúr! = by your leave (Pers.), vi. 58.

Dates and cream (“Proud rider on the desired steed”) i. 59.

Dáúd = David, vi. 229.

“Daughter shall be in his name” = betrothed to her, iii. 110.

“Daughters” secondary figures in geomancy, “mothers” being primary, iii. 156.

Daur al-Ká’ah = the opening made in the ceiling for light (tr. “the opening of the saloon”) ii. 23.

Dawát = ink-case (containing the reed-pens) ii. 211.

Dani = an echo, iv. 273.

Dawn-prayer, i. 13.

“Day in the Country,” an old Eastern custom, iv. 96

Daylakí = Daylakian (garments), v. 143.

Daylam (Al-) prison, ii. 142.

Dayr al-Tin = “The Convent of Clay,” a Coptic Monastery near Cairo, ii. 284.

—— Nashshábah = the Monastery of the Archers (a fancy name) v. 129.

Days in Moslem year 354 (=6 months of 29 days and the rest of 30) i. 245.

Death and Life are states, not things, vi. 103.

Decies repetitæ, forms which go down with an Eastern audience, but intolerable to a Western reader, v. 170.

Defloration, regarded by many ancient peoples as if it were porters’ work, iv. 57.

Delights of Paradise promised by the Prophet, ii. 244.

De Sacy quoted, vi. 65, 160.

Descended = Come down from Heaven, i. 333.

Destiny, ii. 61.

Devil may not open a door shut in Allah’s name, i. 21.

“Dhobí-ká kuttá, na Ghar-ká na Ghátká” (Hindí saying) = a washerman’s tyke, nor of the house nor of the Ghátdyke, iii. 491.

Dhol = drums, iii. 137.

Diamond does not grow warm whilst held in the hand, i. 215.

Diamonds, iii. 354.

“Diapedesis” of blood-stained tears frequently mentioned in the “Nights,” v. 149.

Died of laughter (now become familiar to English speech), i. 13.

Die thou and be thou an expiation for the shoe-latchet of Kilayb, ii. 263.

Dignity, permissible in royalty, affected by dames in Anglo-Egypt, ii. 110.

Dihkán, in Persian = a villager (tr. “village-headman”) i. 81.

Dijlah Al- = The Tigris (Hid-dekel) iv. 151.

Dilk (Arab.) more commonly “Khirkah” = tattered robe of religious mendicant (tr. “gaberdine”) iv. 43.

Dimity (der. from “Damietta”) ii. 210.

Din (Al-); omission of, in proper names very common, iii. 3.

Dínárzád and Shahrázád (for Dunyázád and Shahrázád), iii. 3.

Dínárzádah (W.M. MS.) = “Ducat-born” (for Dínárzád) iv. 6.

“Díním” (religious considerations) of the famous Andalusian Yúsuf Caro (a most fanatical work) v. 160.

Dirhams—

- 50 = about  40 shillings 300

- 5,050 = about £220 300

- 1,000,000 = about £25,000 161

Dish-cover used for cleanliness, and to prevent Evil-Eye falling upon food, iv. 243.

Dismantled his shop (removing goods from the “but” to the “ben”), i. 207.

Divan-door, dismounting at, the highest of honours, iii. 136.

Divan or Darbár (levée), being also a lit de justice and a Court of Cassation, iii. 107.

“Dive not into the depths unless thou greed for thyself and thy wants,” i.e., “tempt not Providence unless compelled so to do by necessity,” v. 422.

Divorce and marriage to Mahommed of the wife of Zayd (his adopted son), ii. 197.

Díwán (Arab.) = Council-chamber, v. 227.

Díwan = Divan (the “Martabah” when placed on “Mastabah,” etc.) v. 68.

—— —origin of Fr. “Douane” and Ital. “Dogana,” etc., iii. 7.

Diyár Bakr, lit. Homes (or habitations) of Bakr (pron. “Diyár-i-Bekír”) iii. 269.

Dodges, Eastern, to detect physiological differences between man and maid, etc., iv. 121.

Doggerel, fit only for coffee-house, v. 164.

Doghrí = assuredly, i. 18.

“Dog or a hog” = a Jew or a Christian, ii. 147.

Dogs, hatred of, inherited from Jewish ancestors, iii. 330.

Drachms, Ten = 475 to 478 Eng. grains avoir., vi. 163.

“Draw me aside its tail, so that I may inform thee thereanent” (also similar facetia in Mullah Jámí), v. 46.

Draw thee near to them (They) = they make much of thee, i. 2.

“Dream is the inspiration of the True Believer, The,” iii. 8.

Dress (a Moslem should dress for public occasions), i. 159.

—— exchange of, iii. 171.

Dried fruits, to form the favourite “filling” for lamb and other meats prepared in “Puláo” (Pilaff) v. 358.

Drinking customs, vi. 47.

—— in a bright light, loved by Easterns, iv. 193.

—— wine before the meal, still a custom in Syria and Egypt, vi. 192.

Dromedaries the only animals used for sending messages over long distances, ii. 249.

“Drowned in her blood” in the text, for “all bleeding” (hyperbole run mad), v. 139.

Drunkenness (instead of “intoxication”) v. 315.

Drying towels of palm fibre, iv. 55.

Du’á = supplication, prayer as opposed to “Salát” = divine worship, ii. 94.

Dukhán = lit. smoke, ii. 126.

Dukhn (Arab.) = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain (tr. “millet”), vi. 130.

Dukhúla-k = lit. thy entering (tr. “thy courtesy”) ii. 109.

Dúna-k (Arab.) = “Well done,” iv. 239.

Durà for “Zurà” or for “Zurrah,” pop. pron. “Durrah” = the Holcus sativus, vi. 146.

Durráj (tr. Francolin) ii. 60.

Durrat al-Ghawwás = Pearl of the diver, vi. 225.

Duty of good neighbour, to keep watch and guard from evil, v. 285.

Dyed robe (Abbasides, black; Ommiades, white; Fatimites, green) i. 160.

Ear conceiving love before the eye, iv. 139.

Earthquakes (curious coincidence), iii. 21.

Easterns startled by sudden summons to the presence of a king, ii. 210.

Eastern despots never blame their own culpable folly in misfortune, vi. 22.

“Eat thy pottage,” a formula like our “Cut your mutton,” iv. 84.

Eateth on the spittle, i.e., on an empty stomach, v. 51.

Eating and drinking, iv. 160.

Eaves-dropping (favourite incident of Eastern Storiology) iii. 492.

Efendi (here meaning the under-governor or head clerk) iv. 214.

Eglantine (or Narcissus), The lowland of, vi. 12.

Egypt (magnificent city of) = Cairo, iii. 58.

Elephants usually are vegetarians, iv. 265.

Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, a marvellous legendary figure, vi. 100.

Elopements of frequent occurrence, i. 317.

Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis (Heron), vi. 225.

Emir Yúnas (old trans. = Hamir Youmis), vi. 70.

Embárah (pron. ’Mbárah), pop. for Albárihah = the last part of the preceding day or night, yesterday, v. 256.

“Empty gourds” Eastern succedaneum for swimming corks, ii. 286.

Enallage of persons (“third” for “first”—“youth” for “I”) v. 468.

—— of persons is Koranic and therefore classical, iv. 39.

“Enlarge the Turband” = to assume rank of an ’Álim or learned man, vi. 42.

Entertainment of Guest, three days, vi. 26.

Envious Sisters, The (various versions) iii. 491.

Escarlate, a woollen cloth dyed red (probably French of the xii. century), vi. 5.

Eunuchs, i. 70.

“Every one cannot go to Corinth,” ii. 74.

Everything returns to or resembles its origin, iv. 13.

Evil Eye, iv. 60, 257.

—— to keep off the = one of the functions of iron and steel, iii. 146.

Exaggeration necessary to impress an Oriental audience, v. 139.

Exchange of salams, a sign of safety, ii. 86.

Executioner, difficulty in Marocco about finding one who becomes obnoxious to the Thár, ii. 54.

Exodus of the Hebrews, Census of the (Exposition by Mr. Thayer) vi. 113.

Exodus, Story of the, vi. 98.

Eyes swollen by swathes, i. 30.

Fa’álah (Arab.) = the building craft (tr. “industry”) iv. 179.

Fadáwí (Arab.) = a blackguard (tr. “ne’er-do-well”) v. 441.

Faddah (Arab.), lit. = silver; the smallest Egyptian coin, iv. 37;

- Faddahs, 2,000 = about 1s. 2d., iv. 295.

—— tr. “groats,” v. 226.

Faddán (here miswritten “Faddád”) a plough, a yoke of oxen, v. 347.

—— also the common land measure of Egypt and Syria, v. 347.

“Fa-ghábá thaláthat ayyamin” = and he (or it, the mountain?) disappeared for three days, v. 390.

—— (Dr. Steingass translates), v. 390.

Fahata (for “Fahasa?” or, perhaps, cl. error for “Fataha”) = he opened (the ground), tr. “choosing a place,” v. 353.

—— (prob. vulgarism for “Fahathá”) (fahasa) = to investigate (St.) v. 353.

—— or may be read “Fataha” and tr. “he recited a ’Fátihah’ for them,” (St.), v. 353.

“Fair fate befal thee, etc.,” an address only suited to a king or ruler, iv. 109.

Fair play not a jewel to the Eastern mind, iii. 180.

Fajj = mountain pass (Spanish, Vega = also a mountain plain) ii. 117.

Fákhir (Al-) = the potter, i, 360.

Fakakat = lit. “she flowed over like a brimful vessel.” (St.) tr. here “she expired,” iv. 333.

Fakír, a title now debased in Nile Valley to an insult = “poor devil,” iii. 313.

—— here the Arab. syn. of the Pers. “Darwaysh,” iii. 313.

—— also come to signify a Koran chaunter, iii. 314.

Falling backwards in laughter rare amongst the Badawin, ii. 202.

“Falling-place of my head” = picturesque term for “birth-place,” iii. 58.

Fál or omen (taking a) v. 424.

Falsafah (Arab.) = philosophy, vi. 29.

Fals (or Fils) = a fish scale, a spangle of metal, iii. 294.

“Fa-min tumma,” for “thumma” (“Anon.”) vi. 91.

Fanárát (Arab. pl. of the Pers. Fanár = a light house) here equiv. to mod. Gr. φαυάρ a lantern (Egypt. Fánús) tr. “flambeaux,” iv. 44.

Fár (Arab.) pl. “Fírán” = mouse rather than rat, iv. 324.

Faráfísh (Arab.) a word not found in dictionary—tr. “lumps,” iv. 12;

- nearest approach to would be Faráfík (pl. of Furfák) = fine, thin or soft bread, iv. 12.

Faraj (Al-) ba’d al-Shiddah = (Joy after Annoy), compared to Khudadad and his brothers, iii. 269.

Farajiyah = gaberdine, iii. 30.

Farárijí, tr. “Poulterer” (in text, as if the pl. of “Farrúy” = chicken were “Farárij” instead of Faráríj) (St.) v. 291.

Faras = a mare (tr. “horses”) i. 216.

Farásah = lit. Knowing a horse (tr. “Visnomy”) ii. 96.

Fáris = a rider (tr. “horseman”) i. 103.

Farkalah (φραγέλλιο) = cattle whip, ii. 47.

Farkh Warak = a slip of paper, ii. 114.

Farrásh = tent pitcher, body servant, iv. 157.

Fárs = Persia, i. 282.

Fárs (Al-) = Persians (a people famed for cleverness and debauchery) i. 2.

Farsh = bed or straw-spread store-room where apples are preserved, ii. 113.

Farts, savour his own (curious phenomenon) iv. 231.

“Farz,” devotions, iii. 328.

Fa-sáha (for “Maksah”) = and cried out, vi. 158.

Faswah (Arab.) = “a silent break wind,” as opposed to “Zirt,” a loud fart, iv. 231.

Fatáirí = a maker of “Fatírah” pancake (tr. “Pieman”) v. 298.

“Fa-tarak-hu Muu’sí am’à dáir yaltash fí ’l-Tarík” = “hereupon Musa left his companion darkly tramping about,” v. 323.

—— (Dr. Steingass explains and translates) v. 323.

Fátihah (fem. of “fátih” = an opener, a conqueror), v. 460.

Fátimah = a weaner, iii. 181.

—— and Halímah = Martha and Mary, v. 318.

Fatimé (Ja’afar’s wife, according to Heron) vi. 169.

Fatír (for “Fatírah”) = pancake (tr. “scone”), v. 321.

“Fa-yatrahúna,” masc. for fem. (tr. “miscarry”) vi. 31.

Fawwák (chair of) ii. 72.

Faysár, a dish peculiar to Egypt (see Baysár) iv. 176.

Fazl (Al-) the elder brother of Ja’afar, ii. 71.

—— (Caliph’s foster-brother) i. 166.

Feeding captives and prisoners (exception being usually made in cases of brigands, assassins and criminals condemned for felony) v. 430.

“Feeling conception” unknown except in tales, v. 124.

“Feet towards Mecca,” i. 34.

Fellah, natural fear of—being seen in fine gear, which would have been supposed to be stolen, iii. 171.

—— women stain their veils, etc., with indigo (for sorrow) iv. 248.

Feminine venereal paroxysm, iv. 144.

Fidá’i (Pers.) = a robber, a murderer, iv. 281.

Fidáwi (also “Fidá’i” and “Fidawíyah”) = pirate-men, v. 25.

Fidawiyah (Arab.) sing. “Fidáwi” = lit. one who gives his life to a noble cause, iv. 281.

Fighting rams, i. 210.

—— (the Fellah will use anything in preference to his fists in) v. 350.

Fí ghuzúni zálika (Arab.), a peculiar phrase (tr. “meanwhile”) iii. 142.

Fí Hayyi-kum Taflatun háma, etc. (“A maiden in your tribe avails my heart with love to fire,” etc.) (Steingass also translates) v. 149.

Fí-hi = “In him” (i.e., either Mohammed) or “in it” (his action) i. 40.

“Fí ’irzak” (vulg. “’arzak”), formula for “I place myself under thy protection” (St.) v. 220.

Fí Jífán ka’l-Jawábí (Arab.) meaning small things (or men) and great (tr. “In the wells like the tanks”) iv. 106.

Fí Kíb = “in a mat” (Scott) v. 214.

Fikî (the pop. form of present day for “Fakíh,” prop. “learned in the law”), tr. “tutor” (St.) v. 420.

Fils (or Fals) = a fish scale, a spangle of metal, iii. 294.

Finján (pl. “Fanájíl,” pron. “Fanágil”), and “Filgál” used promiscuously (St.) v. 236.

Finjál (Arab.), systematically repeated for “Finján” (pron. in Egypt “Fingán”) v. 236.

—— (vulg. for “Finján”) = coffee cup, iv. 198.

Firásah (Arab.) = penetration, iv. 10.

—— lit. = judging the points of a mare (tr. “physiognomy”) i. 286.

Fir’aun (Arab.), the dynastic name of Egyptian Kings = Pharaoh (Holy Writ) vi. 12.

Fire lighted to defend mother and babe from bad spirits, i. 279.

Firozábádí (author of “Kámús”), Tale of, iii. 84.

First day = our Sunday, i. 286.

“First Footsteps” quoted, vi. 65.

First night (wedding night) v. 223.

Fírúz (Pers. “Píroz”) = Victorious, triumphant, i. 185.

Firúzah (Arab.) = turquoise, (Pers. form) Pírozah, iii. 270.

Fityán (pl. of Fatà) = my fine fellows, ii. 42.

Flfl’a (a scribal error?), may be Filfil = pepper or palm fibre, v. 351.

Flogging as punishment, vi. 9.

Flower = the breast, ii. 252.

Flying Carpet (prototype of) iii. 42.

Food, calls for, at critical times not yet wholly obsolete amongst the civilised of the nineteenth century, iii. 113.

—— respect due to (Tale of “Daftardar”) v. 86.

“Folk are equal, but in different degrees” (compared with “All men are created equal”) v. 425.

Force of fancy, iii. 182.

Forehead (compared with a page of paper upon which Destiny writes her decrees) i. 100.

Formula of the cup and lute, v. 196.

Forwardness on the part of women held to be insulting by modest Moslem, iv. 68.

Fowl (domestic) unknown to Europe till about the time of Pericles (ob. B.C. 429) iv. 32.

Freemasonry, iv. 288.

“Full dressed and ornamented” (a girl lying beneath a slab), a sign of foul play, v. 317.

Fumigating gugglets (with musk) ii. 275.

Funeral, Customs at, iii. 380.

Furát River (Euphrates) vi. 122.

Futúh (Al-) lit. = the victories (tr. “the honorarium”) i. 285.

Gáikwár, iii. 134.

Galland quoted, iii. 3, 12, 18, 19, 20, 22, 51, 58, 71, 77, 82, 87, 91, 108, 110, 116, 140, 158, 160, 167, 171, 297, 303, 321, 327, 331, 334, 335, 341, 348, 351, 353, 355, 363, 369, 377, 380, 385, 416, 422, 429, 446, 472, 500, 506;

- iv. 41, 244, 348.

Gandharba-lagana (fairy wedding) of the Hindus, iii. 448.

Gandharbas = heavenly choristers, iii. 448.

Gardener, Egyptian names for (St.) v. 293.

Gardens of the Hesperides and of King Isope, (Chaucer) iii. 74.

“Gásha” = he produced a sound, iv. 20.

Gauttier quoted, iv. 3, 19, 49, 74, 90, 95, 97, 176, 189, 228, 244, 254, 334.

—— quoted, v. 3, 17, 21, 63, 123, 125, 231, 263.

—— quoted, vi. 3, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, ib., 15, ib., 33, 34, 41, 59, 68, 89, 167, 225, ib., 226, 234.

Gave her the hire of her going forth (i.e. Engaged her for a revel and paid her in advance) 44.

Ghába = departed (may here mean “passed away”) v. 390.

“Ghabasah” (Arab.) from Ghabas = obscure, dust-colored (tr. “clouded of color”) iv. 22.

Ghalílí = my yearning (tr. “my thirst”) ii. 102.

“Ghánim bin Ayyúb = The Thrall o’ Love”—position of in Arab. texts compared with Galland, iii. 303.

Gharbíyah (province in Egypt) ii. 16.

Gharím = debtor or creditor, vi. 77.

Ghashamsham Al- = the Stubborn, the Obstinate, vi. 256.

Ghashím (Arab.), from the root “Ghashm” (iniquity) = a “Johnny Raw”—a “raw laddie,” iii. 91.

—— (Arab.) = a favourite word of insult in Egypt, v. 29.

Ghát (pop. “Ghaut”) = the steps (or path) which lead to a watering place, iii. 491.

Ghattí = “Cover it up,” ii. 158.

Ghaur (or lowland) = the fall of the waist, ii. 252.

Ghuráb al-bayn = Raven of the wold or of parting, ii. 126.

Ghaush = a tree of hard wood whereof musical instruments are made, iv. 20.

“——” for “Ghaushah” = noise, row, vi. 69.

Ghaushah = tumult, quarrel, iv. 20;

- (tr. “clamour”) a Persianism for which “Ghaughá” is a more common form, iv. 20.

Ghawwasha = he produced a sound, iv. 20.

Ghawwásún = divers (tr. “duckers”) i. 68.

Ghaylah Al- = Siesta-time (Badawi speech), v. 151.

Ghayr an (Arab.) = otherwise that, except that (tr. “Still”) iii. 82.

Ghayr Wá’d or “Min ghayr Wa’d” = lit. without previous agreement (tr. “undesignedly”) iv. 149.

Ghayth al-hátil = incessant rain of small drops, vi. 241.

Ghazbán = an angry man, i. 265.

Gháziyah (Arab.) = a gypsy (pl. Ghawázi) iv. 29.

Ghazn = a crease—a wrinkle, iii. 142.

Gheir (Syriac) = for (der. from Greek γὰρ) iii. 82.

Ghetto, the Jewish quarter (Hárah) which Israelites call “Hazer” = a court yard, an inclosure, v. 217.

“Ghibtu ’an al-Dunyá” a pop. phrase, tr. “I was estranged from the world,” meaning simply “I fainted,” v. 97.

Ghilmán (in text “Wuldán”), the boys of Paradise, vi. 128.

Ghiovendé (Turk.), a race of singers and dancers, professional Nautch-girls, iv. 72.

Ghirárah (Arab.) (pl. “Gharáír”) = a sack, v. 228.

Ghiyár (Arab.) = any piece of dress or uniform which distinguishes a class, vi. 52.

—— in Pers. = a strip of yellow cloth worn by Jews subject to the Shah, vi. 52.

“Ghul-who-eateth-man-we-pray-Allah-for safety” (compound name), v. 161.

Ghubár = dust (joined to ’Afár = “sanddevils”) iv. 262.

Ghúlah = an ogress (fem. of Ghúl), iii. 327.

“Ghurrát” (Arab.) may be bright looks, charms in general, or “fore-locks” (St.) v. 88.

Ghusl, or complete ablution, v. 93.

—— ablution, i. 20.

—— or complete ablution after car. cop., i. 220.

Giallo antico, verd’ antico = serpentine limestone, iii. 139.

Giant Face (a parallel to the “Bodiless Head”) ii. 102.

Gil-i-sar-shúí (Pers.) = head washing clay (tr. “fuller’s earth”) iii. 348.

Girbahs = water-skins, v. 28.

Glass tokens (for coins) iii. 351.

Goat’s droppings (used as fuel, also for practical jokes) i. 288.

Golden Calf of Al-Sámiri, vi. 160.

Goodwife of Cairo and her four gallants (analogous) v. 253.

Gouged out the right eye, v. 322.

Guernsey and Sark folk-lore, v. 328.

Guest-fires, ii. 249.

Guest rite = three days, vi. 26.

Guide going in front, i. 201.

—— (in Africa), following, instead of leading the party, v. 388.

“H” (the final aspirate), use of, v. 419.

Há! Há! so Háka (fem. Háki), Arab. = Here for thee (tr. “There! there!”) iii. 89.

Habashí = an Abyssinian, iii. 276.

Habbah (Arab.) = a grain (of barley), an obolus, a mite, vi. 53.

—— Al- = grain (for al-Jinnah) (St.) v. 108.

Habib, Note on History of, vi. 262.

“——, Prince, and Dorathil-goase” (Eng. trans.) vi. 225.

Habíb = the Beloved, vi. 226.

“Hábíl” and “Kábíl” (Arab.) equiv. of Abel and Cain, v. 56.

Habshí (chief) of Jinjírah (=Al-Jazirah, the Island), admiral of the Grand Moghul’s fleets, iii. 276.

Hadas = moved (“event,” a word not easy to translate) i. 321.

“Hadda ’lláho bayní wa baynakum,” tr. “Allah draw the line between me and you,” v. 406.

Hádi (Al-) Fourth Abbaside (A.D. 785–786) i. 165.

Hæmorrhage stopped by plunging the stump into burning oil, ii. 168.

Háfiz = traditionist and Koran reader, iii. 341.

Hajárata ’l-Bahramán (Arab.) carbuncles, v. 133.

Hájib = Chamberlain, i. 324.

—— = eyebrow or chamberlain, ii. 252.

Hajj (Al-) = the company of pilgrims (tr. “pilgrimage caravan”) i. 196.

“——” never applied to the Visitation (Ziyárah) at Al-Medinah, i. 196.

Hajj al-Shárif = Holy pilgrimage, i. 194.

Hajjáj (Al-), i. 47.

—— son of Yúsuf the Thakafí, v.

Hajjat al-Islam, the Pilgrimage commanded to all Moslems, i. 194.

“Há Káhi Ptáh” (O. Egypt.) = “the Land of the great God, Ptah,” vi. 12.

Hálah mutawassitah (Arab.) = middle-class folk, iii. 94.

Haláwat = lit. a sweetmeat (ii. 127), a gratuity, a thank-offering (tr. “a douceur”) i. 35.

—— al-Miftáh = Sweetmeat of the Key-money (tr. “douceur of the Key”) ii. 20.

Halbún, The Boobies of (tale concerning them), v. 273.

Halfah grass, ii. 46.

Half-man, an old Plinian fable (Pers. Ním-Chihreh, and Arab. Shikk) iv. 76.

Half of marriage-settlement due to wife on divorcement, i. 311.

Hálik (Arab.) = intensely black, iv. 24.

Halkah = throat, throttle, iv. 190.

“Halwá” = sweetmeat, iv. 7.

Hamadán, a well-known city of Irák ’Ajamí, i. 203.

Hamákah = fury, v. 446.

Hamám = ruffed pigeon, culver, v. 151.

Hamd (Al-) = Allah-lauds, ii. 221.

Hamhama = muttered, i. 265.

Hamídah = the Praiseworthy (according to Totárám Shayyán, instead of Fátimah = a weaner) iii. 181.

Hammám, i.e., the private bagnio, i. 262.

——, necessary to enter after car. cop., vi. 171.

—— bin Ghálib al-Farazdak, a famous Christian Poet, i. 42.

Hammama-hu (Arab.) = bathed, i.e., scraping, kneading, soaping, etc., iii. 133.

Hámiz = pop. term for pickles (i.e., “Sour meat” as opposed to “sweetmeats”) iv. 7.

Hamlat al-jamal = according to Scott, a “Camel’s load of Treasure,” iv. 59.

Hamzah, uncle of Mahommed, ii. 164.

Hand (She raised her) heavenwards (not “her hands” after Christian fashion), v. 174.

“Handicraft an it enrich not, still it veileth,” i.e., enables a man to conceal the pressure of impecuniosity, v. 223.

“Hanná-kumú’llah” = Almighty Allah make it pleasant to you, v. 69.

Hanút (Arab.) = aromatic herbs, iv. 257.

—— = perfumes (leaves of the lotus tree) i. 290.

—— means either “Vintner” or “Vintner’s shop,” vi. 124.

“Haply there will befal thee somewhat contrary to this”—a euphuism meaning some disaster, v. 237.

Haráis (pl. of Harísah) = meat puddings, i. 287.

Haráj (in Egypt. “Harág”) = the cry with which the Dallál (broker) announces each sum bidden at an auction, iv. 37.

Harám = “forbidden,” sinful (tr. “useless”) i. 72.

Harárah = heat (here der. from “Hurr,” freeborn) noble, and tr. “nobility,” v. 289.

Hárát (or quarters) closed at night with strong wooden doors, ii. 9.

Harem, v. 283.

—— supposed to be in Eastern Wing of Palace, i. 199.

Harfúsh = Larrikin, popularly a “blackguard,” i. 4.

Harím (women) = the broken pl. of “Hurmah,” from “Haram,” the honour of the house (also an infinitive whose pl. is Harímát = the women of a family) v. 283.

Harísah = meat puddings, ii. 277.

—— = meat pudding, vi. 159.

Harj, gen. joined with Marj (Harj wa Marj) = utter confusion, chaos (St.) iv. 342.

Harj wa Laght (Arab.) = turmoil and trouble (St.) iv. 342.

Harrán, King of, iii. 269.

—— (the Hebrew Charran) iii. 269.

Harun al-Rashid (house still standing) i. 15.

—— and his famous pilgrimage from Baghdad to Mecca, iii. 177.

Hasá Al = the Plain of Pebbles, vi. 169.

Hasab wa nasab = degree and descent, v. 43.

Hasal (for which read Khasal) tr. “gain,” v. 425.

Hasan, the Handsome (in the old trans. “The Hazen”) (Kházin = treasurer?) vi. 68.

Háshim = breaker, i. 47.

“Háshimí,” i.e., a descendant of Al-Háshim, great grandfather of the Prophet, vi. 191.

Hashimites (and Abbasides) fine specimens of the Moslem Pharisee, i. 159.

Hashísh = Bhang in general, iv. 19; confection of, iv. 195.

Hasír = mat (used for sleeping on during the hot season), i. 204.

Hásil (Al-) (Arab.) = government stores, also the taxes, the revenue, vi. 60.

Hátíf = an ally, ii. 234.

Hátif, or invisible speaker, iii. 519.

Hatím (wall) = The “broken” (wall) to the north of Ka’abah, v. 180.

Hátim of the Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality, vi. 167.

Haudaj (Arab.) = a camel-litter, tr. “Howdah,” v. 193.

—— = camel-litter, vi. 181.

“Haukalah” and “Haulakah,” i. 265.

Hauráni = (native of Hauran), Job’s country, ii. 50.

Hawálín, cler. error for either “hawálà” = all around, or “Hawálí” = surroundings (St.), v. 301.

“Hawánít” pl. of “Hanút” = the shop or vault of a Vintner (tr. “taverns”) vi. 124.

Hawar, many meanings of, vi. 73.

Hawwúlín (Arab.), tr. “over his ears,” (a corrupt passage in text) v. 301.

Hayfá Al-, i.e., “The Slim-waisted,” v. 125.

Háyishah from ✓ “Haysh” = spoiling, iv. 190.

Haykal (Ar. and Heb.) = a large space, a temple (tr. “hallowed fane”) ii. 175.

Haysumah (Arab.) = smooth stones (tr. “pebbles”) iv. 347.

Hayy = either serpent, or living, alive (tr. “living branch”) vi. 99.

Hazár = the nightingale, or bird of a thousand songs, v. 151.

Hazer = a courtyard, an inclosure, v. 217.

Házir (Arab.) corresponds with English “Yes, sir!” (tr. “Present”), iv. 254.

Házúr (Al-) = loquacity, frivolous garrulity (tr. “jargon”) i. 283.

“He who keeps his hands crossed upon his breast, shall not see them cut off,” i. 114.

He is of the lords of houses = folk of good family, ii. 169.

“He Pilgrimaged: quoth one, Yes, and for his villainy lives (yujáwir) at Meccah.”—Egyptian Proverb, i. 196.

He for she, iv. 29.

“He found the beasts and their loads and the learned men,” etc., a new form of “bos atque sacerdos,” iv. 311.

“He found her a treasure wherefrom the talisman had been loosed,” v. 14.

“He ... who administereth between a man and his heart,” a Koranic phrase (St.) v. 42.

“He readeth it off (readily) as one drinketh water,” vi. 5.

He sat upon ashes (may be figurative or literal) vi. 19.

“He mounted his father and clothed himself with his mother” = he sold his father for a horse and his mother for a fine dress, vi. 105.

Head cut off and set upon the middle of the corpse (in case of a Jew), or under the armpit (in case of a Moslem), iv. 64.

Head placed at a distance from the body (by way of insult) vi. 15.

Headsman paces round convict three times preparatory to execution; a custom at the Courts of Caliphs generally, vi. 52.

“Health to you and healing,” usual formulæ when a respectable person is seen drinking, vi. 47.

Heaven, the fifth = the planet Mars, v. 119.

Hebrews and their Exodus (Exposition by Mr. Thayer) vi. 113.

Helios (Apollo), Worship of, not extinct in mod. Greece, vi. 100.

“Hell-flame but not shame,” proverb, ii. 148.

“Help ye a Moslemah” (in text “Help ye the Moslems”) v. 368.

Hemp, Indian, iv. 195.

Her desire was quenched, iv. 144.

Herklots quoted, v. 28.

Heron quoted, v. 27;

- vi. 41, 50, 52, 68, 72, 167, 168, 169, 170, 173, 178, 225, 234, 242, 245, 247.

Hibá = dust, ii. 244.

Hibernicè, “kilt” for beaten, i. 247.

“Hicar was a native of the country of Haram (Harrán), and had brought from thence the knowledge of the true God,” vi. 4.

Hidden (for fear of the “Eye”) i. 75.

Hidyah (Arab.) in Egypt = a falcon (tr. “a Kite”) iv. 101.

“Hie Salvationwards” (the Words of Azán) i. 42.

Hifán (pl. of “Hafnah”) = handful, mouthful (St.) v. 11.

Hijáz (Al-) = The Moslem’s Holy Land, (Cap. Meccah) ii. 193.

Hikáyah (=literal production of a discourse, etc.) iv. 39.

Hilál = the crescent (waxing or waning) for the first and last two or three nights, v. 72.

Hilm (vision), “au ’Ilm” (knowledge) Arab. (tr. dreaming or awake) a phrase peculiar to this MSS., iv. 39.

Himà = the tribal domain (tr. “tribe-land”) ii. 215.

—— = the private and guarded lands of a Badawi tribe (tr. “demesne”) v. 142.

Himyán (or Hamyán) = a girdle (tr. “purse belt”) i. 152.

Himyarite (in text “Akyál,” pl. of “Kayl” = “Kings of the Himyarite peoples”) here = the heroes, vi. 232.

Hindostani Version quoted, iii. 3, 4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 19, 26, 27, 33, 51, 57, 61, 75, 79, 82, 85, 87, 95, 96, 97, 105, 113, 114, 116, 125, 129, 133, 137, 140, 144, 147, 148, 150, 158, 159, 160, 161, 166, 167, 170, 171, 174, 175, 180, 185, 188, 189, 294, 297, 355, 377, 380, 422, 446.

Hirfah = a trade, a guild, a corporation (here the officers of police) ii. 54.

His head forewent his feet = He fell down senseless, i. 17.

“His eyes turned in his head” (to show the whites, as happens to the mesmerised) ii. 242.

“His bones were crushed upon his flesh” for “His flesh ... bones,” iv. 347.

Hisában tawíl = a long punishment, vi. 157.

“History of Chec Chahabeddin” (Shaykh Shiháb al-Dín) in “Turkish Tales” of Petis de la Croix = here, “The Tale of the Warlock and the Young Cook of Baghdad,” vi. 121.

“Hizà (حظى, in MS. حفى) bi-Zaijati-há” = le bonheur de ses aventures, vi. 260.

Hizám = girdle, sash, waist-belt, tr. “waist-shawl,” iii. 20.

Hms = Vetchling, vi. 74.

“Ho! Aloes good for use. Ho! Pepper,” etc., cries of an itinerant pedlar hawking about women’s wares, v. 351.

Ho, Tuffáhah! Ho, Ráhat al-Kulúb = O Apple, O Repose o’ Hearts, &c., i. 17.

Holy House (youth being of, can deny that he belongs to any place or race), v. 39.

Hobal, the biggest idol in the Meccan Pantheon, vi. 26.

Horseman of the horsemen, i.e., not a well-known or distinguished horseman, but a chance rider, vi. 92.

Horse-thief chained to four pickets of iron, ii. 224.

Horses used in India, iii. 297.

Hospitality (House of) v. 330.

Houdas (Professor) quoted, v. 47, 48; vi. 7, 36, 48, 57, 62, 66, 67, 72, 84, 104, 125, 126, 147, 178, 187, 188, 189, 191, 243, 247, 251, 257.

Hour (would his hour had never come) i. 27.

Houri, vi. 73.

House of the Elephant = the Castle’s squares at chess, ii. 205.

—— of Háshim, great grandfather to the prophet, v. 46.

—— masters (also Kings) in the East are the last to be told a truth familiar to all but themselves and their wives, iv. 351.

—— made of cob or unbaked brick, which readily melts in rain, iv. 214.

Housewife, Egyptian or Syrian, will make twenty dishes out of roast lamb, iv. 174.

“How very good he was to me,” i. 32.

“How was it thou honouredst us, and what was the cause of thy coming, etc.” the address of well-bred man to a stranger, vi. 170.

Hubban li-raasi-k (Arab.) lit. = out of love for thy head, i.e., from affection for thee, iv. 50.

Hudá Sirru-hu, i.e., his secret sin was guided (by Allah) to the safety of concealment, tr. “his secret was safe directed,” v. 339.

—— (Dr. Steingass reads “Wahadá Sirru-hu” = “and his mind was at rest”), v. 339.

Hudhud (tr. “hoopoe”) called from its cry (“Hood! Hood!”) i. 148.

Hujjat = a legal deed (may also mean “an excuse”) ii. 27.

Hummus (or Himmis) = vetches, iv. 7.

Hundred dirhams = £4 (about), i. 43.

Húr (Al-Ayn) feminine counterparts of the “Boys of Paradise” (Ghilmán) vi. 128.

—— al-Ayn = our vulgar “Houri,” vi. 73.

Húrí (Arab.) for Húr = pool, marsh or quagmire (vulg. “bogshop”) iv. 206.

Husn tadbir = lit. “beauty of his contrivance” (tr. “Seemliness of his stratagem”) ii. 29.

“Huwa inná lam na’rifu-h” (Arab.) lit. = He, verily we wot him not (suggesting “I am he”) iv. 133.

Hysterics, common amongst the races of the East, i. 198.

Hydrophobia in Egypt, iii. 330.

Hypocrites = those who feign to be Moslems when they are miscreants, iii. 83.

“I am an Irání but Walláhi indeed I am not lying” (Persian saying for “I will shun leasing”), v. 303.

“—— as one who hath fallen from the heavens to the earth,” i.e., an orphan and had seen better days, iv. 75.

—— between his hands = at his service, i. 280.

“I bade her be the owner of herself,” one of the formulas of divorce, vi. 178.

I cannot fill my eye with the twain = I cannot look at them long, ii. 88.

“I change the pasture” = I pass from grave to gay, etc., iv. 7.

“I commit him to thy charge under God,” ii. 184.

“I have accepted,” the normal idiom “I accept,” vi. 81.

“I have not any eye that can look at him” = “I cannot bear to see him,” ii. 110.

I have not found thy heel propitious to me, i. 21.

“I must present myself before him (the King) with face unveiled,” a Persian custom for women, iii. 533.

I smell the scent of the Jinn, ii. 125.

“I think not otherwise” = “I am quite sure,” ii. 119.

“I will hire thee a shop in the Chauk” = Carfax or market street, iii. 61.

I will lay down my life to save thee from sorrow—a commonplace hyperbole of love, ii. 181.

Ibl, specific name for camels (tr. “certain camels”) i. 315.

Ibn al Sammák = Son of the fisherman or fishmonger, i. 171.

—— mín, a vulgarism for “man,” iii. 53.

Ibráa = deliverance from captivity, v. 203.

Ibrahim al-Harráni (Arab. title for Abraham) iii. 270.

—— of Mosul, the far famed musician, v. 193.

“’Iddah” = days during which a widow cannot marry (tr. “widowhood”) iii. 379.

“If Almighty Allah have appointed unto thee aught thou shalt obtain it without toil and travail”—a favourable sentiment, iii. 10.

“If his friend the Devil be overstrong for thee, flee him rather than be slain,” ii. 202.

If my hand were changed = if my hand had lost its cunning, ii. 78.

“’Ifr” (fem. ’Ifrah) = a wicked and dangerous man, iii. 80.

Ifrít, mostly derived from “’afar” = dust, iii. 80.

Ihtidá = divine direction, i. 313.

Ihtimám wa Ghullah (former should be written with major aspirate meaning “fever”) tr. “there befel him much concern,” v. 421.

Ihtirák = burning (used in the metaphorical sense of consuming, torturing) i. 35.

Ihramat li al-Salát = she pronounced the formula of Intention (Niyat) (tr. “the Prohibition”), ii. 94.

“Ij’alní fí Kll,” (the latter word a cler. error for “Kal-a” or “Kiláa” = safety, protection) = Set me in a place of safety, vi. 84.

“Ikhbár” (=mere account of the discourse, oratio indirecta, etc.) iv. 39.

Iklím = climes, ii. 3.

“Ilà an káta-ka ’l-’amal al-rabíh” (In MS. giving no sense. Translations by Author and Dr. Steingass) v. 58.

’Iláj (Al-) = insertion (tr. “horizontal refreshment”) ii. 185.

Illicit intercourse, (method intended to procure) vi. 126.

’Ilm al-Ghayb (Arab.) = the Science of Hidden Things, iii. 452.

—— al-Híah, gen. tr. “Astrology”—here meaning Scientific Physiognomy, iii. 32.

—— al-Hurúf (Arab.) tr. “Notaricon,” iv. 80.

Imr al-Kays (in text “Imryu ’l-Kays”) a pre-Islamitic poet (“The man of al-Kays”) v. 181.

’Ilm al-Mukáshafah = the Science by which Eastern adepts discover man’s secret thoughts (tr. “Thought reading”) iii. 539.

Ilm al-Raml = (Science of the Sand), our geomancy, iii. 156.

Imam = Antistes or fugleman at prayer who leads off the orisons, ii. 101.

Imám = a leader of prayer, iii. 380.

—— = an antistes—a leader in prayer (a word with a host of meanings) iii. 27.

—— (the spiritual title of the Caliph) i. 43.

Imán = prayer, iii. 380.

’Imárah = a building, tr. here souterrain (probably clerical error for Maghárah = a cave, a souterrain) iii. 15.

Impotence, causes and cure of, iv. 257.

Improbable details on which stories depend, iii. 160.

In a modest way (lit. In the way of moderation) i. 248.

Inbasata ’l-Layl al-Asá = “when the night of offence was dispread,” vi. 243.

Indecencies of Bhang-eaters, iv. 196.

Indian hemp, iv. 195.

“’Ind ’uzzáti ’s-siníni” (Arab.) = lit. the thorny shrubs of ground bare of pasture, v. 59.

Infanticide (in accordance with the manners of the age) iii. 497.

“In lam tazidd Kayní” = lit. unless thou oppose my forming or composing (tr. “unless thou avert my shame”) iv. 11.

“Inna házih Hurmah; lam ’alay-há Shatárah” = “Truly this one is a woman; I must not act vilely or rashly towards her” (St.) v. 220.

Inscriptions on metal trays sold to Europeans—(also on tablecloths) ii. 87.

“Insistance overcometh hindrance” (equiv. of “’Tis dogged as does it” of Charles Darwin) v. 171.

Intersexual powers, vaunting, v. 91.

“Intihába ’l furas” lit. = the snatching of opportunities (tr. “divest himself in a pleasurable case”) v. 222.

Intoxication (properly meaning “poisoning”) a term to be left for “teetotallers” to use, v. 315.

Inverted speech, form of, v. 60.

Irak Al-, the head-quarters of the Khárijite heresy, v. 213.

Iraks (two) = Irák Arabí (Chaldæe) and ’Ajami (Western Persia) ii. 191.

Irán (father of the Furs) = Persians, etc son of “Ashur,” vi. 3.

Irham turham = Pity and shalt be pitied (one of the few passive verbs still used in pop. par.) v. 169.

’Irk = vein (of our eye) equiv. to “the apple of the eye,” ii. 144.

—— al-Háshimí = the Háshimí vein, i. 29.

“—— al-Usná” (Arab.) = chordæ testiculorum (tr. “testicle-veins”) v. 52.

Irregular use of inn, perpetuated in some monster hotels throughout Europe, ii. 20.

Irtiyád = a place where the urine spray may not defile the dress (tr. “a place to make water”) ii. 13.

“’Irz” (=protection), “Hurmah” and “Shatárah” (words explaining each other mutually) (St.) v. 220.

Isá, according to Moslems, was not begotten in the normal way, vi. 100.

Isaac of Mosul, the Greatest of Arab Musicians, ii. 70.

“Ishá” prayer, iv. 296.

Is’hák = Isaac (Abraham and Isaac) vi. 104.

Is’háku kána ’l-Zabíh = Isaac was the victim, vi. 104.

Ishári, a word which may have many meanings (tr. “a white cock in his tenth month”) iv. 341.

Ishmael (not Isaac) made the hero by mod. Moslems of the story “Abraham and Isaac,” vi. 104.

Ishtalaka = he surmised, discovered (a secret), v. 33.

Islam Al- is based upon the fundamental idea of a Republic, vi. 194.

—— (Shaykh of), v. 317.

Israel, history of the name, vi. 100.

Israelite, now polite synonym for Jew, vi. 100.

Isráfíl = Raphael, v. 302.

Istanáda ’ala Shakkati-h, tr. “(he might) lean against his quarter,” v. 401.

—— “he lay down on his rug” (St.) v. 401.

“Istanatú lá-ha” (presupposing “istanattú” 10th form of “natt” = he jumped) tr. “they threw themselves on her neck” (Dr. Steingass takes it for 8th form of “sanat” and translates “listened attentively”) v. 34.

Istífá = choice, selection, v. 203.

Istikhráj Al- = making “elegant extracts,” v. 126.

Istiláh (Arab.) = Specific dialect, idiom (tr. “right direction”) iv. 104.

Istinshák (Arab.) one of the items of the Wuzú or lesser ablution (tr. “water”) iv. 58.

“Itawwaha,” tr. “throwing his right leg over his back,” v. 382.

—— (Dr. Steingass also explains and translates) v. 382.

Ittikà (viiith of ✓ wakà); the form Takwà gen. used = fearing God, vi. 96.

Iyálah = government-general, iv. 245.

’Iyál-hu = lit. his family (tr. wives) ii. 8.

Iyás al-Muzani, al Kazi (of Bassorah) the Model Physiognomist, iv. 107.

“Iz lam naakhaz, wa-illá,” etc., a fair specimen of Arab. ellipsis, iv. 300.

Ja’ad = a curl, a liberal man, iv. 14.

Ja’ad al-yad = miserly, iv. 14.

Ja’afar, the model Moslem minister, v. 72.

Jabábirah—fabled Giant rulers of Syria, iii. 86.

Jabal (Al-) al-Mukawwar = the Crescent Mountain (from Kaur = a park) ii. 119.

Jabal al-Saháb = “The mount of clouds,” v. 376.

Jabal Ka’ka’án, the highest parts of Meccah, inhabited by the Jurham tribe (so called from their clashing armour and arms) vi. 131.

Jabhat = the lintel, opposed to the threshold (tr. here “forehead” of his shop) ii. 137.

Jabr (Al-) = the tyranny (equiv. of “Civil law”) i. 212.

Jady (Arab.) = the zodiacal sign Capricorn (tr. “kid”) v. 46.

Jafr, supposed to mean a skin (camel’s or dog’s) prepared as parchment for writing, vi. 168.

Jafr Al-, a cabalistic book, prognosticating all that will ever happen to Moslems, vi. 168.

—— Al-, confused with “Ja’afar bin Tayyár” the Jinni, vi. 168.

Jaftáwát (Arab.) pl. of Turk. “Chifút” = a Jew, or mean fellow, vi. 67.

Jahím-hell, v. 55, 201.

Jahl = ignorance (also wickedness) i. 271.

Jahrbaur (a fancy name intended to be Persian) i. 93.

Ja’ídiyah (Arab.) a favourite word in this MSS. = “Sharpers,” iv. 14, 280.

Jáizah (viaticum) = a day and night, vi. 26.

“Jalabí” (in text) afterwards written “Shalabí,” v. 335.

Jalak, the older name of Damascus, the “Smile of the Prophet,” vi. 167.

Jálínús = “Galen” (considered by Moslems a pre-Islamitic saint) i. 284.

Jám = either mirror or cup (meaning doubtful) iii. 440.

Jama’a atráfa-h, lit. = he drew in his extremities (tr. “covered his hands and feet with his dress”) i. 114.

Jamal fálij = the palsy-camel, ii. 235.

“Jamarát of the Arabs” = Banú Numayr, Banú Háris, and Banú Dabbah, vi. 7.

Jámi’ = cathedral mosque, i. 250.

Jámí al-Amawí (Arab.) Cathedral Mosque of the Ommiades, one of the Wonders of the Moslem World, vi. 172.

Jám-i-Jamshíd, a well-worn commonplace in Moslem folk-lore, iii. 440.

Jamíl bin Ma’mar al-Uzri. (“Jamíl the Poet,” and lover of Buthaynah), i. 41.

Jamrah = a bit of burning charcoal, ii. 122.

—— = a live coal, ii. 87.

“——” (Arab.) a word of doubtful origin, applied to a self dependent tribe (tr. “live coal”) vi. 7.

Jámúsah (Arab.) = buffalo-cow, iv. 26.

Janákilah = gypsies, iv. 72.

Janánan may also read “Jinánan” (St.) vi. 138.

—— (? vulg. form of “Jannatan” = the garden (of Paradise)) tr. “the garths of Paradise,” vi. 138.

Janázah, bier with a corpse thereon, iv. 289.

Jarazat Kuzbán (pl. of Kazíb) = long and slender sticks, vi. 76.

Janínáti Al- = the market gardener, v. 293.

Jánn, Al- (MS. preserves rare form of, for the singular) iv. 88.

Jannat al-Khuld (Arab.) = the Eternal Garden, v. 172.

Janzír (vulgarism for “Zanjír”) = a chain, i. 20.

Jaríd = The Cane-play, iii. 327.

—— or reed used as a javelin, iv. 173.

—— pop. Jeríd = the palm-frond used as javelin, iii. 145.

Jarídah (Arab.), = Palm-frond stripped of its leaves, i. 264; iv. 173.

Jarír al-Khatafah, i. 39.

Jarír bin ’Abd al-Masíh (Mutalammis, a poet of The Ignorance) vi. 94.

Járiyah = damsel, slave-girl, used instead of “Sabiyah” = young lady, i. 134.

Járiyah rádih, Al-, tr. “the good graces of her mistress,” v. 161.

Jarmúk, son of “Ashur,” vi. 3.

Jarrah (Arab.) = flask, v. 321.

Jashísh = coarsely ground wheat (St.) v. 347.

Jatháni = the wife of an elder brother (tr. “sister-in-law”) iii. 373.

Jauhar = the jewel, the essential nature of a substance (tr. “quintessence”) i. 212.

Jauhar-jí (Arab.) a Turkish form for Jauharí, iv. 21.

Jauharjíyyah, tr. jewellers (an Arab. pl. of an Arabised Turkish sing.—ji for—chí = (crafts) man) iii. 95.

Jawádit Al- = animals freshly slain, vi. 257.

Jawákín (Arab.) pl. of Arab. Jaukán for Pers. “Chaugán,” a crooked stick (used in Polo), vi. 125.

Jáwar = he became a Mujáwir (one who lives near a collegiate mosque) i. 196.

Jáwúsh (Arab.) for Cháwush (Turk.) = an army sergeant, etc., iv. 45.

Jay’a Al- = the onyx (a well-omened stone) v. 130.

“Jayb” = the breast of a gown, also used in sense of a pocket, vi. 42.

Jayyid, der. from root “Jaud” = to excel. (St.) vi. 5.

Jazdán = a pen-case (Pers.) more prop. called Kalamdán = a reed box, iv. 322.

Jazirah = insula, island, used in the sense of “peninsula,” ii. 220.

Jazírah (Al-) (Arab.) = Mesopotamia, iii. 269.

- “Jews hold lawful to them the good of Moslems.” (Comparison of Jew and Christian in matters relating to dealing) iii. 93.

Jazr = cutting, strengthening, flow (of tide) v. 203.

Jehovah, the tribal deity of the Jews, vi. 4.

Jerusalem, Temple of, a fac simile of the orig. built by Jehovah in the lowest heaven, i.e., that of the moon, vi. 105.

Jewel inserted in the shoulder, i. 228.

Jewels (luminous) iii. 354.

Jeweller, held to be one of the dishonest classes, iv. 21.

Jiddan (Egypto-Syrian) = muchly, i. 115.

Jiház (Arab. Egypt. “Gaház”) = marriage portion, v. 28.

“Jílan ba’da Jíl” the latter word = revolutions, change of days, tribe, people,
v. 476.

Jím (j) with 3 dots, a Persian letter still preserved in Arabic alphabets of Marocco, etc., vi. 182.

Jink of Egypt (called by Turkish soldiers Ghiovendé) iv. 72.

Jinn (Arab.) = spirit or energy of a man, vi. 183.

—— “Curiosity,” vi. 62.

—— -mad (or in Persian “Parí-stricken,”—smitten by the fairies) v. 249.

Jinns of Northern Europe, ii. 86.

Jinníyah = the Jinn feminine, iii. 470.

Joanna Papissa (Pope John VIII. called “Pope Joan”) i. 340.

Job (traditions of) ii. 50.

Jugular veins (esp. the external pair) carry blood to the face, and are subject abnormally to the will, v. 340.

Julnár = Gulnare, ii. 100.

Jumlatun min al-mál = Worth a mint of money, iv. 59.

Jummayz (Arab.) = a tall sycamore tree, v. 117.

Jund (Arab.) pl. “Junúd” = “guards,” a term mostly applied to regular troops under Government, vi. 16.

Juráb al-’uddah (Arab.) i.e., The manacles, fetters, etc., vi. 78.

“Júrah Syán” for “Jurah sayyál” = a stinking fosse a-flowing, vi. 35.

Ká’ah (Arab.) = the apodyterium or undressing room upon which the vestibule of the Hammam opens (tr. “great hall”) iii. 133.

—— = a saloon, vi. 61.

Ka’b = heel, glory, prosperity, i. 21.

Kabá (Pers.) = a short coat or tunic, vi. 48.

Kababjí (for “Kabábji”), seller of Kabábs (tr. “cook”) v. 225.

Kabad = liver, sky vault, the handle or grip of a bow (tr. here “belly” of the bow), vi. 257.

Kabbaltu = I have accepted, i.e., I accept emphatically, iii. 37.

Kabdán (usual form “Kaptán” from Ital. “Capitano”) = Captain (ship’s) (Turk. form, as in “Kapúdán-pashá” Lord High Admiral of ancient Osmanli land), v. 402.

Kábil-ki (? cler. error for Kátil-ki = Allah strike thee dead) tr. “Allah requite thee,” vi. 55.

Kabírah = head of the household (i.e., the mother), vi. 83.

Kabr al-Sitt, wherein Sitt Zaynab is supposed to lie buried (tr. “Lady’s Tomb”), vi. 171.

Kabsh (Arab.) = ram, v. 299.

Kabút (pl. Kabábít) = “Capotes,” v. 274.

Kad = verily (affirmative particle preceding a verb gives it a present and at times a future signification) i. 245.

Kadíd Al- (Arab.) = jerked meat flesh smoked, or sun-dried (tr. “boucan’d meat”) v. 51.

Kadr = rank, i. 48.

Kádúm for “Kudúm” (Syrian form) to “adze,” iv. 101.

Káfi’ah Al- = parapet, vi. 72.

Káfir (i.e., a non-Moslem) Everything fair in dealing with, iv. 316.

Kahana (Heb.) = he ministered (priests’ offices or other business) vi. 109.

Kahbah = whore, i. 12.

—— = our whore (i.e. hired woman), vi. 46.

Káhin, usual plurals of, are Kahanah and Kuhhán (St.) iv. 320.

—— = a Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a soothsayer, vi. 109.

Káhinah = Divineress (fem. of Káhin), i. 279.

Káhirah = City of Mars, Cairo, iv. 35.

Kahramán (alias Samarbán) (W. M. MS.) iv. 6.

Kahramánah = housekeeper (also nurse, duenna, &c. &c.) i. 199.

—— (Arab.) = a nurse, a duenna, an Amazon guarding the Harem, iv. 78.

—— a word of many senses, vi. 89.

Ká’id; lit. = one who sits with a colleague (tr. “Captain”) i. 59.

“Káík” and “Káík-jí” the well-known Caïque of the Bosphorous, v. 236.

Káim-makám = a deputy (governor, etc.) v. 281.

Ka’ka’ = “jingle and jangle” (of horses’ tramp) vi. 131.

“Káká Siyáh” (Pers.), i.e., “black brother” (a domestic negro), see his Názi-núzí, iii. 285.

Kála al-Ráwí, etc., parenthetical formula = “The Story-teller sayeth, etc.,” i. 347.

Kalak (Arab.), lit. = agitation, disquietude (used as syn. with Kúlanj = a true colic), iv. 177.

Kála’l-Ráwi = the reciter saith, v. 64.

—— ’l-Ráwí = quoth the reciter, vi. 227.

Kál (al-Ráwí) = “the Reciter saith” (a formula omitted here), vi. 15.

Kalamdán = reed box. iv. 322.

Kalamátu ’llah = the Koran, iv. 252.

“Kalansuwah”-cap—a distinguishing mark of the Coptic regular clergy, iv. 34.

Kalb = stomach (sometimes “heart”) i. 26.

—— (for “Kulbat”) = a cave, a cavern (tr. “conduit”) iv. 214.

Kalí = potash (our “alcali”) i. 8.

Kalím = one who speaks with another, a familiar, v. 203.

Kalímu’llah = Title of Moses, on account of the Oral Law and conversations at Mount Sinai, v. 203.

Kám Khudáí = master of his passions, iii. 269.

Káma (Arab.) = he rose; equiv. to “he began” in vulg. speech, iii. 389.

—— -Shástra = the Cupid gospel, iii. 429.

Kamar al-Ashráf = Moon of the Nobles, vi. 226.

—— al-Zamán (“Moon of the Time”), vi. 233.

Kamariyah (der. from Kamar = Moon) = coloured glass windows, ii. 39

“Kamá zukira fí Dayli-h” = “Let it be, as is said, in the tail,” vi. 126.

Kamburisíyah = clotted curd, vi. 159.

Kamal (Arab.) = Louse, vi. 99.

Kamís (χιτών, chemise, etc.) = shirt, i. 346.

Kamrah = the chief cabin (from Gr. καμάρα = vault), tr. “cuddy,” v. 24

Kanání (plur. of Kinnínah) = glass bottle, iii. 92.

Kanát (Arab.) tr. water-leat, iv. 350.

Kandíl (Al-) al-’ajíb = the Wonderful Lamp, iii. 135.

Kanísah = a Pagan temple, a Jewish synagogue, a Christian Church, i. 198.

Kapú = a door, a house, or a Government office, vi. 179.

—— Katkhúdási = the agent which every Governor is obliged to keep at Constantinople, vi. 180.

Kapúdán-pashá = Lord High Admiral of ancient Osmanli land, v. 402.

Kapújí = a porter. Kapújí-báshí = head porter, vi. 179.

Kár’ah, now usually called “Maslakh” = stripping room, iii. 133.

Karawán = crane or curlew (Charadrius œdicnemus) v. 151.

Karb, one of whose meanings is “to inflate the stomach,” iv. 182.

Kárdán (Persian) = Business-knower, i. 94.

Kárishín = chasing, being in hot pursuit of (St.) v. 405.

Karít (✓ Kart) = complete, speaking of a year, etc. (St.) iv. 337.

Kariyah = a village (derivation) i. 83.

Karkabah (Arab.), Clerical error for Karkarah = driving; rumbling of wind in bowels, iv. 182.

Karm (✓), originally means cutting a slip of skin from the camel’s nose by way of mark, v. 266.

Karmán = Karmania, vulg. and fancifully derived from Kirmán. Pers. = worms, i. 59.

Kart = complement, or here, “remainder,” (St.) iv. 337.

Karúr = a crore, iii. 129.

Karz (Arab.) = moneys lent in interest without fixed term of payment, as opp. to “Dayn,” vi. 29.

Kasalah = a shock of corn, assemblage of sheaves, v. 53.

—— may be cler. error for “Kasabah” = stalk, haulm, straw, v. 53.

Kas’at (=a wooden platter or bowl) Mafrúkah, tr. “hand-robbed flour,” v. 349.

Kasf = houghed, i. 155.

Kashákish (Arab.), from the quadril. ✓ Kashkasha = he gathered fuel (here tr. “fuel sticks”) iii. 67.

Kash’am, a term having various sigs., iv. 183.

Káshán (Well of), proverbial for its depth, vi. 127.

“Kashmar,” a word not to be found in dictionary, iv. 25.

Kasht = skinning (a camel) ✓ of Mikshat (Arab.), iv. 100.

Kashshara = grinned a ghastly smile (also laughing so as to shew the teeth), v. 461.

Kásid = messenger, ii. 37.

Kasím (an unusual word), tr. “tax tribute,” vi. 18.

Kasír (the Little one) iii. 390.

Kásituna (Al-) = The Swervers, i. 52.

Kasr = abbreviation, i. 295.

Katá = sand-grouse, v. 151.

“Kata’ al-arba’,” or cutting off the four members, equiv. to our “quartering,” v. 96.

Kata’a Judúr-há (for “hú”) tr. “backbone,” v. 353.

—— (Dr. Steingass refers pronoun in “Judúr-há” tr. “Rabakah,” taking the “roots of the neck,” tr. = spine) v. 353.

Katá grouse, vi. 65.

(Kataba) Zayjata-há = marriage-writ, vi. 259.

Katáif (pl.) = Katífah-cakes, a kind of pancake, vi. 45.

Kátil-ki = Allah strike thee dead, vi. 55.

Katalú-ní = they killed me, vi. 185.

Kattán = linen, flax (tr. “linen web”) iv. 104.

Kattu from “Katta” = he cut (in breadth, as opposed to Kadda = he cut lengthwise) iii. 52.

Kauk (Káka, yakúku) to chuck, iv. 203.

Kauk = an aquatic bird with a long neck, iv. 203.

Kaunayn (Arab.) = the two entities, this world and other world (tr. here “Two Beings”) vi. 249.

Kauri (or “Cowrie,” Cypræa moneta), iii. 348.

Kaus al-Bunduk (or Bundúk) (Arab.) = a pellet-bow (Ital. arcobugio, Eng. arquebuse), vi. 53.

Kawá’ib Al- = High-breasted (also P. N. of the river) v. 176.

Kawá’ib Al- (A P.N. of word unknown to author); lit. meaning “of high-breasted virgins,” v. 129.

Kawání al- (pl. of Kanát) = the spears (tr. here “punishment”), also read “al-Ghawání” (St.) vi. 147.

Kawárijí (Arab.) = one who uses the paddle, a rower (tr. “boatman”) iii. 18.

Kawík (Arab.) = magpie, iv. 203.

Kawwárah, tr. “Sherd” (not found in dictionary) iv. 179.

“Kayasirah” (Cæsars) opp. to Akásirah, (kisras) ii. 263.

Kayf, favourite word in Egypt and Syria, i. 58.

—— a tranquil enjoyment, iv. 196.

—— = joy, the pleasure of living, vi. 174.

Kaylúlah = Siesta, iv. 324.

Kayrawán = Curlew, ii. 93.

Kazafa (Arab.) = threw up, vomited, vi. 135.

Kazánát (pl. of “Kázán”) = crucibles (opp. to Kawálib = moulds) v. 108.

Kázánát Al- (pl. of Kázán) = chauldrons (Turk. “Kazghán”) (St.) v. 25.

Kazázah = vulg. a (flask of) glass, iv. 179.

Kazdír, may here allude to the canisters used by small shopkeepers (tr. “tin”) iv. 338.

Kázi, ex-officio guardian of the orphans and their property liable to punishment in case of Fraud, ii. 10.

Kází al-Askar = the great legal authority of a country (tr. “Kazi of the Army”) v. 310.

Kázi bade ancient dame precede him (on reaching door), lest he happen to meet an unveiled woman upon the upper stairs, vi. 58.

Kazzák = Cossacks, bandits, etc. (here tr. “pirates”) iii. 288.

Kbb (possibly “Kubb” for “Kubbah”) = a vault, a cupola, v. 376.

Kerchief, throwing the, iv. 264.

Keyhole (Eastern) cannot be spied through, the holes being in the bolt, vi. 54.

Khabata = “He (the camel) pawed the ground” (tr. “beateth the bough”) vi. 28.

Khálata-há al-Khajal wa ’l-Hayá = shame and abasement mixed with her, i.e., “suffused or overwhelmed her” (St.) v. 399.

Khálat-kí insánun (Arab.) tr. “(some man) has mixed with thee”; meaning also “to lie with,” v. 398.

—— (Dr.Steingass also explains and translates), v. 376.

Khalbas (suggests Khalbús) = a buffoon i. 266.

Khalífah (Caliph) = a deputy, a successor, (derivation) i. 4.

—— (never written “Khalíf”) = a viceregent or vicar, v. 64.

Khalíj (Al-) The Canal (Grand Canal of Cairo) ii. 286.

Khalíyáh = beehive and empty, iv. 222.

Khallí-ná nak’ud (Arab.) = let us sit together (a thoroughly modern expression) (St.) v. 475.

“Khamr al-’ukár” (=choice wine) v. 137.

Khams Ghaffár = “five pardoners” (Steingass reads Khamr. (=wine) ’ukár another name for wine, as in “Al-Khamr al-’ukár” = choice wine) v. 137.

Khanádik = ditches or trenches (for Fanádik, “khans”) i. 288.

Kharrat (in text) = tripping and stumbling (in her haste), v. 253.

—— (also may be meant for “Kharajat” = “she went out”) (St.) v. 253.

Khátá = Cathay = China, v. 27.

Khatíb = a preacher (not Kátíb = a writer), vi. 240.

Khatíbah (more usually “Khutbah”) = the Friday sermon preached by the Khatíb, iii. 492.

Khatt Hajar, a province, vi. 230.

Khaufu (Al-) maksúm = cowardice is equally divided, iv. 245.

Khawábi (Arab.) (pl. of Khábiyah) = large jars usually of pottery, iii. 11.

Khawátín (pl. of Khátún) = a matron, a lady, i. 122.

“Khayr” (Arab.) = “’Tis well,” a word of good omen, vi. 58.

—— al-Nassáj (the Weaver) i. 344.

—— Kathír = This is right good (also “abundant kindness”), ii. 275.

Khayyál = sturdy horseman, i. 320.

“—— kabr-hu maftúh” (proverb) i. 320.

Khazíb-dye, v. 200.

Khaznah = the Treasury = 1,000 kis or purses, each 500 piastres, £5,000, iv. 74, 180.

—— (Khazínah) or 10,000 Kís each = £5, v. 236.

Khaznat al-Siláh (Arab.) = the ship’s armoury, v. 403.

Khil’ah = robe of honour, consists of many articles, such as a horse, sword, etc., iv. 235; v. 410.

Khila’h dakk al-Matrakah, tr. “whereon plates of gold were hammered” (an especial kind of brocade) vi. 81.

Khimár (Arab.) = head-veil (a covering for the back of the head), v. 255.

Khizr = the Green Prophet, v. 301.

Khorasan (including our Afghanistan) in a chronic state of rebellion in Al-Rashid’s reign, ii. 167.

Khubz mutabbak = platter-bread, i. 3.

—— Samíz = firsts bread, i. 261.

Khudá, mod. Pers. form of Old Khudáí = Sovereign-King, iii. 269.

Khudadad (derivation), iii. 269.

“—— and his brothers,” position of, compared with Galland, iii. 303.

—— relative position of, iii. 269.

Khutbah = sermon, i. 350.

Khurtúm = the trunk of an elephant, iii. 19.

Khuwáj = hunger, iii. 61.

“Khwájá” for “Khwájah,” iii. 61.

Khwájah = merchant and gentleman, iii. 61.

—— is also a honorific title given by Khorásánis to their notables, iii. 61.

—— and Khawáját (Pers.) = merchants (Arab.), i. 332.

—— (spelt elsewhere “Khwájá”), iv. 50;

- corresponds with our “good man,” iv. 62.

—— Hasan al-Habbál = Master Hasan the Ropemaker, iii. 341.

Kíb (pl. “Kiyáb” and “Akyáb”) = a small thick mat used to produce shade (St.) v. 215.

Kidnapping (by Dervishes) iv. 153.

Kidr = a cooking pot, i. 48.

Kikán (pl. of Kík) tr. “raven,” vi. 147.

Kimcobs = velvets with gold embroidery, iii. 140.

King’s Eye = Royal favour, i. 61.

King consummates his marriage in presence of his virgin sister-in-law, ii. 268.

—— Kulayb (“little dog”) al Wá’il, ii. 263.

—— Nabhán, ii. 192.

—— of the Kingdoms (i.e. of the worlds visible and invisible), ii. 6.

—— of Bashan, iii. 19.

—— in Persia speaks of himself in third person, and swears by his own head, etc., iii. 531.

“King’s Command is upon the head and the eyes” = must be obeyed, iii. 164.

Kinnab = hemp, vi. 62.

Kinship, Terms of, iii. 373.

Kintár = a quintal, 98 to 99 lbs. avoir. (in round numbers, a cwt.) vi. 29.

Kiosque, traced through the Turk. Kúshk (pron. Kyúshk) to the Pers. “Kushk” = an upper chamber, iv. 151.

—— or belvedere (used to avoid confusion between Kiosque and window) iii. 140.

Kirámát = miracles, iii. 181.

Kírát (Carat), most often one twenty-fourth of the dinar, iii. 91.

Kirm Al- (Arab. and Pers.) = a worm, vi. 5.

Kirsh (pron. “Girsh”) the Egyptian piastre = one-fifth of a shilling, iv. 72; 281.

—— (Arab.), pop. “Girsh” = a dollar, iv., 281.

—— = piastre, v. 226.

—— (Arab.) = piastre, vi. 175.

Kis = purse = 500 piastres = £5, iv. 74.

Kís = usually the Giberne or pellet-bag (here the “bow-cover”) vi. 53.

Kishk = ground wheat, eaten with sheep’s milk soured, etc., vi. 160.

Kisra = Kutrú (Bresl.) Kassera (Chavis and Cazotte) i. 60.

Kisrá = Chosroës, i. 97.

“Kisrat al-yábisah ’ala ’l-Rík, etc.” = a slice of dry bread on the spittle, for it absorbs ... phlegm on the mouth of the stomach (St.) v. 51.

“Kissing him upon the mouth,” i. 153.

—— the hand, the action of a servant or slave ii. 81.

Kitáb = book, written bond, ii. 27.

Kit’ah humrah = a small quantity of red brickdust to which wonderful medicinal powers are ascribed (St.) vi. 125.

Knife and salt placed on the stomach (Ar. Kalb) to repel evil spirits, i. 26.

“Kohl’d her eyes,” v. 292.

Kohl-powder, v. 292.

Koran quoted—i. 25, 51, 52, 100, 134, 148, 353; ii. 215, 175, 270, 271, 197, 177, 106, 101; iv. 201, 242, 252, 254; v. 44, 47, 48, 49, 50, 56, 58, 180, 460; vi. 100, 104, 156, 157.

Kubbah = a dome-shaped tent (tr. “Pavilion”) i. 99.

—— (square building with cupola) i. 119.

—— = vault, cupola, iv. 290.

“Kubbat al-’Asáfír” = the Dome of the Birds, vi. 181.

Kubúr = tombs, i. 295.

Kuhná, Syriac singular, according to dictionaries (St.) iv. 320.

——, Al- (Arab.), pl. of Káhin = diviner, priest (tr. “Cohens”) iv. 320.

“Kúl,” vulg. for “Kul” = “tell me”; a constant form in this MS., vi. 5.

Kuláh meant for “Kuláh” a Dervish’s cap (St.) v. 108.

Kúlanj (Arab.) = a true colic, iv. 177.

“Kullu Shayyin lí mu’as’as” = all to me is excitement, vi. 174.

Kumájah = First bread (i.e., Bread unleavened and baked in ashes) i. 8.

Kumri = turtle-dove, v. 151.

Kunafání = a baker of kunáfah = a vermicelli cake often eaten at breakfast, iv. 127.

Kunaym Madúd = Kingdom of Dineroux, i. 55.

Kunná nu’tíhu li-ahad = we should have given him to someone (Dr. Steingass also explains) vi. 73.

Kunyah (Arab.), the pop. mispronunciation of “Kinyah” = “bye-name” (gen. taken from favourite son, etc.) vi. 83.

Kurbáj (Arab.) = Cravache (“Scourge”) iv. 214.

“Kurbán-at básham” = May I become thy Corban or Sacrifice (formula used in addressing the Shah) iii. 530.

Kursí = Throne, i. 10.

Kursí (Arab.), here = a square wooden seat without back, used for sitting cross-legged (tr. “chair”) iv. 52.

Kursí stool = the stool upon which the Síníyah, or tray of tinned copper, is placed, iv. 170.

Kurúd = apes (occurring as a rhyme twice in three couplets) v. 190.

Kurúsh (Arab.), pl. of Kirsh, the Egyptian piastre = one-fifth of a shilling, iv. 72.

Kút = food not to be confounded with “Kuwwat” = force, iv. 225.

—— al-Kulúb, iv. 225.

Kutb (Al-) al-Ghauth (Arab.) = lit. “The pole-star of invocation for help” (tr.“Prince of the Hallows”) the highest degree of sanctity in the mystic fraternity of Tasawwuf, v. 426.

Kuthayyir = “the dwarf,” i. 41.

—— ’Azzah (contemporary of Jamíl), i. 41.

Kuwárah = that which is cut off from the side of a thing, iv. 179.

Kuwayyis (dim. of Kaus), much used in Egypt as an adj. for “pretty,” etc., iv. 350.

La’ab al-Andáb (Arab.) = javelin-play, iii. 154.

Lá af’al (“I will do naught of the kind”) more commonly Má af’al, i. 296.

La’alla = peradventure (used to express expectation of possible occurrence) ii. 20.

Lá baas = “No matter” or “All right,” (tr. “No harm be upon you”) i. 160.

—— Haula = there is no Majesty, etc., v. 359.

“—— Haul of Allah is upon thee,” i.e., it is a time when men should cry for thy case, v. 359.

La-hu Diráah (for Diráyah = prudence) fí tabírí’l-mulúk = tr. “Also he had control,” v. 465.

“Lá iláha illa ’llah,” the refrain of Unity, v. 403.

“—— khuzitat Ayday al-Firák,” meaning, “May Separation never ornament herself in sign of gladness at the prospect of our parting,” v. 200.

—— tafzah-ní = Do not rend my reputation. (St.) iv. 295.

Laban = milk soured (tr. “Curd”) ii. 54.

Laban, pop. word for milk artificially soured, v. 352.

—— halíb (a trivial form) = sweet milk, v. 352.

La’bat Shawáribu-hu = lit. “his mustachios played” (tr. “curled”) v. 273.

Labbah (Arab.), usually part of the throat where ornaments are hung or camels stabbed (tr. “necklace”) iv. 68.

Labbayka = here am I (tr. “Here I stand”) iv. 317.

“Laffa ’l-isnayn bi-zulúmati-h” = tr. winding his trunk around them (latter word = Khurtúm the trunk of an elephant) iii. 19.

Laght (also pron. Laghat), a synonym of “Jalabah” = clamour, tumult. (St.) iv. 342.

Lahd, Luhd = tomb-niche, i. 292.

Lájawardí, tr. “lapis lazuli,” iii. 444.

Lajlaja = tied (his tongue was) ii. 186.

Lakasha = be conversed with, v. 285.

—— one of the words called “Zidd,” i.e., with opposite meanings, v. 285.

Lakh (Anglicised “lac”) = 100,000, iii. 357.

Laklaka-há (Arab.), an onomatopœia, v. 265.

“Lam yakthir Khayrak”; this phrase (pron. “Kattir Khayrak”) is the Egypt. and Moslem. equiv. for our “thank you,” v. 60.

“—— yanúb al-Wáhidu min-hum nisf haffán,” tr. “each took his turn thereat and drank without drinking his full,” v. 11.

—— Dr. Steingass explains and translates, “And none took his turn without sipping a few laps.” v. 11.

La-nakhsifanna = I would assuredly, ii. 23.

Lane, quoted, i. 3, 10, 11, 13, 16, 17, 21, 29. 31, 34, 146, 290; ii. 246; iii. 38, 119, 334, 492; iv. 19, 29, 34, 43, 45, 55, 56, 122, 209, 243, 257, 293, 296; v. 28, 86, 90, 97, 226, 265, 291, 351, 363, 426; vi. 46, 53, 74, 178.

Last march (to the next world) ii. 202.

Lauh = tablet (of the heart) iii. 386.

“Lawá’a-hu,” a clerical error for “láwa’a-hu.” (St.) iv. 306.

Lawwaha (Arab.) = lit. pointing out, making clear (tr. “bobbed”) iv. 190.

“—— -hu,” a conjectured reading for “lawá’a-hu.” (St.) iv. 306.

Laysa fi ’l-diyári dayyár = “nor is there a wight in the site” (a favourite jingle) ii. 275.

Learned men exorcising some possible “Evil Spirit” or “the Eye,” a superstition begun with the ancient Egyptians, iv. 60.

Learn from thyself what is thy Lord (Sufi language) = in Gr. γνῶθι σεαυτόν, and corresponding with our “looking up through nature to nature’s God,” v. 276.

Leather from Al-Táif, ii. 242.

Legal defects (which justify returning a slave to the slave-dealer) ii. 141.

Lens, origin of, and its applied use in telescopes and microscopes, iii. 432.

“Letters of Mutalammis” (“Uriah’s letters”) are a lieu commun in the East, vi. 94.

Lex talionis (the essence of Moslem and all criminal jurisprudence) i. 100.

Liallá (i.e., li, an, lá) = lest, i. 140.

Libás (Arab.) = clothes in general (tr. “habit”) vi. 103.

Libwah = lioness, i. 152.

Lieutenant of the bench, ii. 24.

Lijám (Al-) w’al-Bílám = the latter being a Tábi’ or dependent word used only for a jingle, v. 381.

Lilláhi durrak = Gifted of Allah, ii. 200.

Lion lashing flank with tail, iv. 160.

Litám = the mouth-band for man (tr. “Litham”) v. 139.

Lithám = the coquettish fold of transparent muslin used by women in Stambul, ii. 172.

“Live thy head, O King, for ever and aye!” (a formula announcing death of supposed enemy) vi. 17.

Líwán (Arab.) = Saloon, iii. 71.

—— al-barrání (Arab.) lit. = the outer bench in the “Maslakh” or apodyterium (tr. “outside the calidarium”) iv. 56.

Liyah (? Liyyah) = Lign-aloes, vi. 125.

Líyúth (pl. of Layth) = Lions (used for “warriors”) i. 14.

Lodging in the Khan, vi. 95.

Long hand, or arm, means power (Arab. idiom) i. 114.

Long lock left on shaven poll, i. 233.

“Look-at-me-and-thou-shalt-know-me” (compound name) v. 276.

Love-fit distinguished by the pulse or similar obscure symptoms, vi. 174.

Love (for “sleep”) ii. 164.

“Love thy friends and hate thy foes,” the religion of nature, vi. 34.

Lovers dressing themselves up and playing the game of mutual admiration, v. 153.

Lovers of Al-Hayfá and Yúsuf (note concerning) v. 123.

Low-caste and uneducated men rise suddenly to a high degree, vi. 194.

“Loz” (Heb. and “Lauz” Arab.) = fruit of the Almond-tree = Amygdalus communis, vi. 7.

“Luh” = to him for “Lí” = to me, iv. 282.

Lukmah (Arab.) = a balled mouthful (tr. “morsels”) v. 264.

Lúlúah = The Pearl or Wild Heifer, ii. 95.

Lume eterno (of the Rosicrucians) = little sepulchral lamps, burned by the Hebrews, Greeks and Romans, iii. 72.

“Luss,” is after a fashion λῃστὴς (the Greek word however includes piracy while the Arab term is mostly applied to petty larcenists), v. 337.

Lute, beautiful song of the, v. 152.

Ma’adabah = wake or funeral feast before death, vi. 16.

Ma’ádin (Arab.) = Minerals (tr. “ingredients”) iv. 139.

Má al-Fasíkh = water of salt-fish (tr. “dirty brine”) (St.) v. 292.

Maamún (Al-) al-Hákim b’Amri’llah = The Secure, the Ruler by Commandment of Allah, ii. 281.

Maamún (Al-) Seventh Abbaside (A.H. 198–227) i. 175.

Mabásim (pl. of Mabsim) = a smiling mouth, ii. 162.

Madáfi al-Salámah (Arab.) = the cannon of safe arrival, iv. 124.

“Made small their sleeves and breasts” = habited themselves in the garments of little people, vi. 42.

Madínat al-Andalús = City of Andalús, (usually Seville) v. 402.

“Madínat al-Nabi.” City of the Prophet, and vulg. Al-Madínah the City, v. 43.

Madmen in hot climates enjoy throwing off their clothes, ii. 22.

Mad’úr, here translated (even if thou hadst been) “an invited guest,” v. 41.

—— it may also be a synonym and be rendered “as though thou wert a boor or clown” (St.) v. 41.

Máfrúkah (an improvement upon the Fatírah) a favourite dish with the Badawí (St.) v. 349.

Mafyaat, Al- (Arab.) = lit. “a shady place” (tr. here “mysterious subjects”) iv. 14.

Maghárah = a cave, a souterrain, iii. 15.

Maghbún usually = deceived, cajoled, v. 366.

Maghribi (vulg. Maghrabi) iv. 43.

——, the Magician (in classical Arabic “Maghribi = a dweller in the Sunsetland”) iii. 53.

Maghrib = set of sun, v. 151.

Maháshim (acc. to Bocthor, is a pl. without a singular, meaning “les pàrties de la génération”) (St.) v. 359.

Maháshima-k = good works, merits (in a secondary sense, beard, mustachios) tr. here “yard,” v. 359.

Mahazzin (for Maházim) al Zerdukkaut (for al-Zardakhán) according to Scott “Saffron—yoke of eggs, etc.;” according to Lane “apron napkins of thick silk” (tr. here “silken napkins”) iv. 55–56.

Mahdi (Al-) Third Abbaside (A.D. 775–785) i. 165.

Máh-i-Khudáí = the sovereign moon, iii. 269.

Mahkamah, i.e., the Kazi’s Court-house, iv. 169.

—— (Place of Judgment) or Kazi’s Court at Cairo, mostly occupied with matrimonial disputes, v. 363.

Mahmá = as often as = Kullu má, vi. 54.

“Mahmud the Persian and the Kurd Sharper,” a poor version of “Ali the Persian and the Kurd Sharper,” iv. 242.

Mahr = marriage settlement, i. 283.

—— = dowry, settled by the husband upon the wife, v. 28.

Ma’húd min ghayr Wa’d, Al- (Arab.) = “the door where the appointment had taken place without risk threatened,” iv. 66.

Maidenhead, taking it held to be porter’s work, iv. 57. Decency compels maidens to show unwillingness in parting with, iv. 135.

Mail-coat Davidian (Heron, “A massy cuirass of Haoudi”) vi. 242.

Majlis garm karná = to give some life to the company (tr. “to warm them into talk”) iii. 535.

Majnún = “A madman,” ii. 22.

Ma’jún (Arab.) pop. applied to an electuary of Bhang (Cannabis sativa) (tr. “confections”) iv. 56.

Májúr Al- (Arab.) for “Maajúr” = a vessel, an utensil, v. 291.

Makán mahjúb = a retired room, i. 11.

Makhzúm = nose pierced, i. 47.

Making a picture (or statue), which artist cannot quicken, a process demanded on Doomsday, ii. 194.

Makrán, the well-known Baloch province West of Sind, i. 335.

Makrúh = blameable, not actually damnable, ii. 46.

Mál = wealth, i. 47.

—— = flocks and herbs (in Badawi parlance) iv. 3.

—— (in text), tr. “coin” (also applied to “hidden treasure” amongst Badawin) v. 313.

—— wa Ghawál (Arab.) = moneys and treasures, iv. 3.

“—— wa Nawál,” iv. 3.

Malay Aigla = Sandal wood (tr. Eaglewood) iii. 20.

Malik Shah = King (Arab.) King (Persian) i. 131.

—— (King), a title loosely applied in Arabic, ii. 191.

Malláh (Al-) = the salting ground, ii. 54.

Ma’lúmah (Arab.) = far-famed (may also mean “made known” or “afore-mentioned”) iv. 276.

Mameluke (like unto a), i.e., well-fed, sturdy, bonny, v. 472.

—— Beys (dignity forbidding them to walk even the length of a carpet) iii. 177.

Mamrak, or small dome built over pavilions (also Pers. “Bádhan”) ii. 82.

—— = dome-shaped skylight, ii. 39.

Ma ’múrah (Arab.) = haunted, v. 118.

Man metamorphosed into a woman, vi. 136.

—— of Al-kays, the (pre-Islamitic poet) v. 181.

—— with El, or God = Israel, vi. 100.

Manetho’s account of Moses, vi. 112.

“Mandíl” (kerchief) of mercy, iv. 31.

—— (kerchief) used by women “on the loose” in default of water to wipe away results of car. cop., v. 94.

Manjaník (Arab.) from the Greek Μάγγα νον or Μηχανὴ = a catapult, iv. 117.

Mankalah, a favourite game in Egypt, iii. 180.

Manná’ = a refuser, a forbidder, v. 185.

Mansúrah (Al-) = opinions differ as to the site of, i. 341.

Ma’rafah (Al-) = the place where the mane grows (tr. “crest”) i. 298.

Marhúm (Al-) = my late brother (tr. “my brother who hath found mercy”) iii. 58.

Máristán = Mad house, i. 18.

—— = The Bedlam, iv. 207.

Máriyah (Maria, Mary) a non-Moslem name, ii. 194.

Marj = the open grassy space on left bank of Baradah (Damascus) River, vi. 169.

—— Sali = cleft meadow (here and below) to “Green Meadow,” ii. 227.

Marjánah = the “Coralline” (from Marján = red coral), tr. “Morgiana,” iii. 378.

“Marham al-akbar, Al-” (Arab.) = the greater salve, v. 51.

Markab mausúkah (from ✓ “Wask” = conceiving, being pregnant) v. 474.

—— tr. “a vessel in cargo (and about to set sail),” v. 474.

Market (Central) = the great Bazar, the Indian “Chauk,” iii. 422.

Marmar Sumáki (Arab.) = porphyry of which ancient Egypt supplied finest specimens (tr. “Sumáki marble”) iii. 139.

Marocco earliest occurrence of name, ii. 252.

Marriages (Morganatic) iii. 33.

Marriage portion, v. 28.

“Marrying below one,” i. 94.

“Martabah” = a mattress, placed upon “Mastabah” (bench) or upon its “Sarír” (framework of jaríd or midribs of the palm) becomes the “Díwan” = Divan, v. 68.

Martabán, iv. 204. See Bartamán, iv. 204.

Martabat Saltanah (for “Sultániyah”) which may mean a royal Divan, v. 68.

Martha and Mary (Fátimah and Halímah) v. 318.

Marwazí = Marw (derived from Sansk. Maru or Marw) i. 288.

Marzbán = guardian of the Marches, i. 234.

Masalah = a question (tr. “catch-question”) i. 138.

Masarat fí-há = and she used hard words to her, i. 31.

Masbúbah, tr. “Cakes,” v. 347.

Mas’h, tr. “robe” (of hair) vi. 157.

Mashá’ íli (Arab.) the cresset-bearer, who acted hangman (tr. “Linkman”) iv. 23.

“Mashá’ilíyah jaftáwát wa fánúsín” = “(cresset) bearers of double torches and lanterns” (St.) vi. 67.

Masháli = three parallel gashes drawn down cheek of child (to prevent kidnapping) iv. 153.

Mashrút Shadak (Arab.) = split-mouthed, iv. 91.

Maslakh = stripping room (also Ká’ah) iii. 133.

Massage (Greek synonym μάσσω and Latin “Massare”) iv. 177.

—— needlessly derived from Arab. “Mas’h” = rubbing, kneading, iv. 177.

Massa-hu’l Fakr = poverty touched him, vi. 105.

Masser, vulg. for Misr, Egypt Grand Cairo; from Misraim, Son of Cham, vi. 25.

Mastúrah = veiled (tr. “curtained”) i. 309.

Matamor (Arab. “Matmúrah”) = Sardábah, a silo for storing grain, etc., vi. 17.

Matáyá Al- = Wight, vi. 162.

Matmúrah = a silo, matamor, or “underground cell,” i. 84

Maugraby used as an opprobrious term (Fr. Maugrebleu) iv. 43.

Maunds (fifty) = about 100 lbs., i. 250.

Maut Ahmar = violent or bloody death (tr. “red death”) ii. 11.

Mauza’ (Arab.) = a place, an apartment, a saloon (here tr. “hall”) iii. 71.

Ma’úzatáni = The two Preventives (two chapters from the Koran) ii. 101.

Mawálid (pl. of Maulid) = lit. “nativity festivals,” (here “funeral ceremonies”) ii. 187.

Mawázi (pl. of Mauz’) = lit. places, shifts (tr. “positions”) ii. 112.

May God never requite thee for me with good (i.e., Damn your soul for leading me into this danger) ii. 39.

—— I not be bereft of these steps = may thy visits never fail me, ii. 110.

“—— it be fortunate to thee,” a little precatory formula to keep off the Evil Eye, iv. 119.

Maydán = plain, iii. 145.

Mayzah (Arab.) = the large hall with a central fountain for ablution attached to every great mosque (tr. “lavatory”) v. 458.

Mayzar (Pers.) = a turband; in Arab. “Miizar” = a girdle, a waistcloth, vi. 53.

Mazarát (Arab.) from ✓ “Mazr” = (an egg) being addled (tr. qualms) iv. 177.

Mazbúh = slaughtered for good, v. 159.

Mazlúm (Al-) = the wronged, vi. 59.

Mazrab Al- = the care of the place, vi. 251.

Meccah and Al-Medinah = The two Sanctuaries, ii. 220.

Medicine-man (Israelite) always a favourite amongst Moslems and Christians, v. 160.

Medinah (Al-), whose title is “Al-Munawwarah” = the Illumined, iii. 58.

Merchants wear dagger and sword, ii. 38.

Mesmerism (“impose her hand upon his head”) iii. 189.

Mesopotamia (Heb. Naharaym, Arab. Al-Jazírah) iii. 269.

Met (Sindi) = a kind of clay, iii. 348.

Mezzízah = applying styptics to the wound (third operation of circumcision), v. 217.

Miat Mamlúk Kitáb (Arab.) latter word meaning “one of the Book, a Jew” or Christian, iv. 85.

Miat wa arba’at ’ashar Súrat = the 114 chapters of the Alcoran, i. 147.

Mídí, clerical error for “Mayyidí,” an abbreviation of Muayyadí = quarter farthing, iv. 127.

Miftáh (prop. “Miftah”) = key used throughout the Moslem East, v. 265.

Mihaffah bi-takhtrawán (Arab.) = a covered litter, iii. 33.

Mihrján (Al-) = the Autumnal Equinox, i. 129.

—— Al- (a P.N. not to be confounded with Maháráj = Great Rajah) v. 123.

Mihtár, also may mean superintendent, head equerry, chief of military band (St.) (here tr. “Shaykh of the Pipers”) v. 298.

—— (in text) = a prince, a sweeper, a scavenger, v. 298.

Miizar (Arab.) = a girdle, a waistcloth, vi. 53.

“Mík! Mík!” an onomatopy like “Couïc, Couïc,” vi. 158.

Mikshat (Arab.) whose ✓ would be “Kasht” = skinning a camel (tr. “Whittle”) iv. 100.

Miláh (pleasant) for Mubáh (permitted), iii. 38.

Milah = the cut (first operation of circumcision) v. 217.

Miláyah = a sheet of cotton used as apparel, iv. 220.

“Mi’lakat (pop. cor. for Mil’akat al-Hilál”) may be the spoon or hollow part of an ear-picker (St.) v. 108.

Milk, specific gravity of, iv. 238.

—— and dates, a favourite food, i. 59.

—— time (father has no connection with the mother during) iv. 350.

—— time was passed (two years) usual time amongst savages and barbarians, iv. 350.

Mín (who) for “Man,” a Syro-Egyptian form common throughout the MS., iii. 14.

’Min al-’Án wa sá’idan” lit. = from this moment upwards, vi. 189.

—— al-Malábis (Arab.) pl. of “Malbas” = anything pleasant or enjoyable, iv. 149.

—— al-Malábis (Arab.) pl. of “Milbas” = dress, garment, iv. 149.

—— ba’ada-hu (making Jesus of later date than Imr al Kays) v. 199.

“—— ba’di an” for “Min ba’di má” = after that, iii. 34.

—— ghayr Wa’ad = without appointment (tr. “casually”) v. 373.

“—— Min Hakk la-hu Asl an ’and-ná huná Rájil,” a thoroughly popular phrase = “Of a truth hath any right or reason to say that here in this house is a man?” v. 247.

—— (Dr. Steingass explains and translates) v. 247.

“—— kuddám-ak” (meaning doubtful), v. 113.

—— perhaps it means “from before thee,” i.e., in thy presence (St.) v. 113.

Míná = a port, both in old Egypt. and mod. Pers., vi. 258.

Mi’ráj = ascent to heaven made by Apostle and return therefrom, etc.—History of, vi. 121.

Mirror, a compromising magical article of many kinds, iii. 23.

Mirrors, made to open and shut in the East, iii. 24.

Mirwad = iron axle of pulley, etc.—hence a bar of metal (tr. “ingot”) iv. 142.

Mirza Mohammed Husayn Khan, originally a Bakkál (greengrocer) made premier of Fath Ali Shah’s Court, vi. 194.

Misallah (pl. “Misáll”) = a large needle for sewing canvas, iv. 288.

Miskah = Bit o’ Musk, i. 16.

Miskál is the weight of a dinar = 1½ dirham = 71–72 grains avoir., vi. 244.

“Misla’l-Kalám” (? a cler. error for “misla ’l-Kiláb”) = as the dogs do (St.) v. 282.

—— -Khárúf (for “Kharúf”) a common phrase for an innocent, a half idiot, v. 283.

Misr = used in a threefold sense for Egypt, old Cairo and new Cairo, iii. 34.

Misraim (the dual Misrs) vi. 12.

“Misri” here = local name (in India applied exclusively to sugar candy) v. 352.

“Mithkála Zarratin” (translations by Author, Rodwell, Houdas and Steingass) v. 48.

“Mizr” in Assyrian = “Musur,” in Heb. = “Misraim,” in Arab. “Misr,” corrupted to Masser, vi. 12.

Mizwad (or Mizwád) = lit. provision bag, ii. 222.

Modesty in story of Alaeddin, iii. 148.

Mohammed Ali Pasha (“the Great”) ii. 9.

Mohsin = i.e., one who does good, a benefactor, v. 321.

“Moormen,” famed as Magicians, iii. 54.

More cutting = more bewitching, ii. 143.

Morier and the literal translation of the “Arabian Nights,” iii. 191.

Morning and evening = day and night for ever, ii. 195.

Moses (by name Osarsiph = Osiris-Sapi), history of by (Manetho) vi. 112.

Moslem school described, iv. 98.

Moslems all know how to pray, i. 13.

—— bound to see True Believers buried, i. 289.

—— make Wuzú-ablution and pray dawn-prayers before doing anything worldly, iii. 141.

—— shun a formal oath, i. 304.

—— think the more you see of them the more you like them, ii. 208.

Mother (all women resembled her); an absurd statement to the West but true in the East, iii. 97.

—— the head of the household (Kabírah) vi. 83.

“—— of Hospitality” is the Sikbáj (Pers. Sikbá) = principal dish set before guests, vi. 159.

—— of our Harím = my wife, v. 283.

“—— of Strengthening” (meat pudding) vi. 159.

—— takes rank before the wife, according to Moslem fashion, iii. 301.

“Mothers” the prime figures of geomancy, daughters being secondary, iii. 156.

Mourning-dress, iv. 248.

Mouse, passing over food, makes it impure for a religious Moslem to eat, v. 239.

Moyah (in text), or as Fellah of Egypt says “Mayyeh,” or the Cairenne “Mayya” and other forms, v. 323.

“Muábalát min shaani-ká” = (From early dawn) I have wearied myself, vi. 178.

Muaddib al-Atfál (Arab.) = one who teacheth children, iv. 95.

Muajjalah = money paid down before consummation (=£25) ii. 141.

Mu’ajjalah = coin paid contingent on divorce (=about £75) ii. 141.

Mu’ammarjiyah (master masons) vulg. Egypt. for “Mu’ammarín” (tr. “architects”), iv. 228.

Mu’arris = pander, i. 206.

Mu’awizzatáni (Al-) “Two Refuge-takings,” iv. 252.

Mubáh = an action not sinful (harám) or quasi-sinful (makrúh) (tr. “lawfully”) ii. 12.

Mubárak = The blessed or well omened, iii. 13.

Mubarbasah (Arab.) in the fem. because referring to noun Tíz = anus (St.) iv. 291.

Mubattat (Arab.) from batt = a duck (tr. “duck-shaped”) iv. 27.

Mudáwi Al- = the man of the people who deals in simples, etc. (as opposed to scientific practitioner) v. 326.

Mubdi’ = the beginner, the originator, v. 196.

Mubtalí Al = sore (leprous), v. 301.

Muhandisín = geometricians, architects, for “Muhandisín,” iv. 228.

Muhat takáat = usually “with torn veils,” metaphor meaning in disgrace (tr. “unveiled”) ii. 46.

Muhibbattu (Al-), fem. or “Muhibb” lover (in Tasawwuf particularly = “lover of God”) (St.) v. 393.

Muhjat al-kulúb = “Core” or “Life-blood of hearts,” v. 201.

“Muhkaman,” a word never found in the Koran, v. 47.

Mu’ín al-Din = “Aider of the Faith,” ii. 5.

Mu’izz bi-Díni ’llah, Al- (first Fatimite Caliph raised to the throne of Egypt), tale of, v. 43.

Mukábalah, the third form of “Kabil” = requital, retaliation (St.) vi. 55.

Mukabbab (Arab.) = vaulted, arched, &c. (tr. here “heaped”) iv. 9.

Mukaddam = Captain, ii. 7.

—— (Anglo-Indicè “Muccuddum”) = overseer, v. 310.

Mukattaf al-Yadayn = arms crossed behind his back (a servile posture) iii. 16.

“Mukawwamína (Al-) wa Arbábu ’l Aklám,” the latter usually meaning “scribes skilled in the arts of caligraphy,” v. 374.

Mukh, lit. = brain, marrow (tr. “dimple”) v. 86.

Mukhaddarát = maidens concealed behind curtains and veiled in the Harem, ii. 265.

Mukrif = lit. born of a slave father and free mother (tr. “blamed lad,”) vi. 137.

Mulberry-tree in Italy bears leaves till the end of October, and the foliage is as bright as spring verdure, vi. 7.

Mulúkhíyá (der. from Gr. μαλάχη from μαλάσσω = to soften) a favorite vegetable, iv. 176.

Mulúkhiyah náshiyah (Arab.) lit. = flowing (tr. “gravied mallows”) iv. 176.

Munáfik (Arab.) = “an infidel who pretendeth to believe in Al-Islam” (tr. “hypocrite”) iii. 83.

Munajjim = Astrologer (authority in Egyptian townlets) i. 66.

Munawwarah (Al-) = the Illumined (title given to Al-Medinah) iii. 58.

—— (Al-) = the enlightened, v. 43.

Munír = “The brilliant,” the enlightened, ii. 100.

Munkati’ah = lit. “cut off” (from the weal of the world) tr. “defenceless,” i. 337.

Munkar and Nakír, the Interrogating Angels, i. 294.

Munnaskif (for manáshif) al fillfillee; according to Scott “compound of peppers” “red, white and black;” according to Lane and tr. here drying towels of Líf or palm-fibre, iv. 56.

Murafraf (passive) from Rafraf = anything overhanging something else (St.) iv. 338.

Murakhkhim = a marble cutter = simply a stone-mason, vi. 60.

Muruwwah lit. = manliness, i. 303.

Músà (Moses), vi. 112.

Músà wa Múzi = Músà the Malignant (Múzí = vexatious, troublesome) v. 321.

—— (Dr. Steingass reads Muusí, the malignant, the malefactor) v. 321.

Musáfahah = palm (of the hand) ii. 225.

Musajja’ (Arab.) = rhymed prose or Saj’a, iv. 133.

Musallà = Prayer-place, i. 313.

Musawwadatayn (Arab.) = lit. two black things, rough copies, etc. (tr. “affright”) iii. 87.

Mushayyadát, tr. “high-builded,” iii. 66.

Musician, also a pederast, i. 209.

Músiká (Arab.) classically “Musikí,” = Μουσικὴ, Pers. Músikár = Music, iii. 137.

Muslimína, the inflect. plur. of “Muslim” = a True Believer, v. 367.

Mustafà = the chosen Prophet, Mohammed, v. 203.

—— bin Ism’aíl (began life as apprentice to a barber and rose to high dignity) v. 110.

Mustanda = strong box, ii. 9.

Mustapha, iii. 53.

Mustaráh (Al-) = Chapel of Ease (a favourite haunting-place of the Jinn), ii. 85.

Musulmán (our “Mussalman,” too often made pl. by “Mussalmen”) is corrupted Arab. used in Persia, Turkey, etc., v. 367.

Mutahattil (Al-) usually = one who forsakes the world (tr. “oyster”) i. 215.

Mutahaddisín = novi homines, upstarts (tr. “of the number of the new”) ii. 82.

Mutalammis (“Jarír bin ’Abd al-Masíh”) a poet of “The Ignorance,” vi. 94.

“Mutalaththimín” = races in North Africa whose males wear the face-swathe (“Lithám”) of cloth, v. 139.

“Mutasa’lik” for “Moutasa’lik = like a Sa’lúk” = lean of limb, vi. 122.

Mutátí bi zahri-h (Arab.) = “hanging an arse,” v. 459.

Mutawallí = Prefect (of Police) ii. 30.

Mutawassí ... al-Wisáyat al-támmah (Wisáyat is corr. noun) = he charged himself with her complete charge, i.e., maintenance (St.) v. 474.

Mu’tazid bi ’llah Al-, Caliph, vi. 124.

Mut’ah = temporary and extempore marriage, the Pers. Sí’ghah, iii. 33.

Muwaswas (Al-) = Melancholist, i. 264.

Muzawwaj = married, vi. 170.

Muzfir (Al-) = the Twister, ii. 95.

Mysteries of Marriage-night but lightly touched on, because the bride had lost her virginity, v. 417.

Naakhaz bi-lissati-him (in text), tr. “until I catch them in their robbery” (see under “Luss”) v. 337.

—— (Dr. Steingass reads “Balsatahum” = until I have received their “ransom”) v. 337.

Na’sh = a box like our coffin, but open at the top, iv. 289.

Nabbút (Egyptian and Syrian weapon), iii. 482.

—— = a quarter-staff, opp. to the “Dabbús” or club-stick of the Badawin, etc., v. 250.

Nabít, son of “Ashur,” vi. 3.

Nabíz = date-wine (or grape-wine) i. 160.

Nabk = lote tree or Zizyphus lotus, for sprinkling corpses, iv. 257.

Náblús = Samaria, iii. 271.

Nádán (Arab.) = the “unknowing” (as opp. to Naudán, the equiv. of Pers. “New of knowledge”) vi. 11.

Nadan (in Assyrian story) = Nathan Kin of the people of Pukudu, vi. 3.

——, The Fool, vi. 3.

Nádán (Pers.) = fool, vi. 3.

Nadb = brandishing or throwing the javelin, iii. 154.

Nadd, a compound perfume, ii. 108.

Naddábah = public wailing-woman, vi. 17.

Nafas lit. = breath (tr. “air”) i. 124.

Náfishah = Pers. “Náfah” der. from the ✓ “naf” = belly or navel (the part in the musk-deer supposed to store the perfume) v. 207.

Nagus = a pear, vi. 160.

Naharaym (Heb.) = Mesopotamia, iii. 269.

Nahawand, “Nahávand” the site in Al-Irak where the Persians sustained their final defeat at the hands of the Arabs (A.H. 21) v. 209.

—— also one of many musical measures (like the Ispaháni, the Rásti, etc.) v. 209.

Nahnu = we (for I) ii. 28.

“Nahs” = something more than ill-omened, something nasty, foul, uncanny, vi. 71.

Náhú (from ✓ “Nauh”) = making ceremonious “Keening” for the dead, vi. 17.

Náihah = the præfica or myriologist, ii. 171.

Na’ím = “the Delight” (also a P. N. of one of the Heavens) v. 199.

Náim (Al-) wa al-Yakzán = The Sleeper and the Waker, i. 1.

Na’íman = may it be pleasurable to thee (said by barber after operation) v. 106.

Najmat al-Sabáh = constellation of Morn, vi. 173.

Nákah = She-dromedary, i. 315.

Nakáír al- (pl. of Nakír = a dinghy, a dug-out) tr. “canoes,” vi. 258.

“Naked intercessor” (one who cannot be withstood) ii. 83.

Nakdí = the actual dowry as opposed to the contingent dowry, vi. 43.

Nakhing = making the camels kneel, iii. 314.

Nakkál, or coffee-house tale-teller, iv. 235.

Nakl (Arab.) = copying, describing, transcribing, iv. 193.

“Nakshat” and “Sifrat,” tr. Coin and Gold, iii. 29.

Nákús, or the Gong = Bell, vi. 100.

Name, not appearing in unedited tales, till much after the proper time for specifying it, iv. 299.

Names for clouds, rain, etc., in Arab. well nigh innumerable, vi. 241.

“Na’mil ma’allazí, etc., makídah,” idiom “I will do him brown,” iv. 282.

Nard = table, iii. 180.

Nardashír (Nard Ardashír?) iii. 180.

Nás malmúmín = assembled men, a crowd of people (St.) v. 253.

Nasím = the Zephyr, or the cool north breeze of Upper Arabia, v. 197.

Nasrín = moss-rose, ii. 115.

Nassafa = libavit, delibavit, etc. (St.) v. 11.

Natar (watching) for “Nataf” (indigestion, disgust) v. 63.

Natawású sawíyah = Solace ourselves with converse, v. 395.

Natawású sawíyah (cler. error for “Natawánású Shuwayyah” = “let us divert ourselves a little”) (St.) v. 395.

Na’tázu (Arab.) viii. form of ’áza = it escaped, lacked, &c.; hence this form “we need” tr. “we require” (St.) iv. 290.

Nátúr (Arab.) pro. a watchman (tr. “old man”) iv. 204.

—— Al- = the Keeper, esp. of a vineyard, vi. 57.

Naubah, lit. = a period, keeping guard (here a band of pipes and drums playing at certain periods) v. 299.

Naudán (Arab.) equiv. to the Pers. “New of knowledge” as opp. to “Nádán” the “unknowing,” vi. 11.

Navel string, treatment of, v. 411.

Náwús = Tower of Silence, i. 264.

Nawwáb (pl. of Náib) = a Nabob (tr. lit. “deputies”) ii. 8.

Nayízáti (Arab. afterwards “Nuwayzátí” and lastly “Rayhání”) = a man who vends sweet and savoury herbs (tr. “Herbalist”), v. 298.

Naynawah, i.e., “Fish-town” or “town of Nin” = Ninus the founder, vi. 3.

—— in mod. days the name of a port on east bank of Tigris, vi. 3.

—— or “town of Nin” = Ninus, the founder, vi. 3.

Naysán, the Syro-solar month = April, vi. 27.

Nazaránah prop. = the gift (or gifts offered by Moslem noble to his feudal superior) iii. 486.

Názilah = descent (of calamity), ii. 176.

Názir al-Mawáris = “Inspector of Inheritances,” ii. 286.

Náz o andáz (Pers.) = coquetry in a half-honest sense (tr. “amorous liveliness”), iii. 285.

Názúk, prob. a corr. of Pers. “Názuk” = adj. = delicate, nice, vi. 67.

Nazúr = one who looks intently, for Názir, a looker, vi. 18.

Necklace-pearls are the cup-bearer’s teeth, ii. 253.

“Necks” per synecdochen for heads, i. 47.

Negative emphatic in Arabic, i. 206.

Negemet-il-Souper (Heron) = Najmat al-Sabah = constellation of morn, vi. 173.

Negroids dreaded by Hindús, iii. 276.

Never may neighbour defy thee, etc. (May thy dwelling-place never fall into ruin), i. 15.

“New lamps for old” as in “Alaeddin,” iv. 322.

Ni’am = Yes (an exception to the Abbé Sicard’s rule), ii. 19.

Night beset his back = darkened behind him, ii. 197.

Niká (or sand hill) = the swell of the throat, ii. 252.

Níl (=the high Nile), iv. 215.

Ním = Persian Lilac (Melia Azadirachta) used as preventative to poison, i. 64.

Nimak-harám, tr. “a traitor to the salt,” iii. 286.

Ním-chihreh (Pers.) = Half-man (Arab. “Shikk”), iv. 76.

Nímshah = half sword or dagger, i. 14.

Nisf ra’as sukkar Misri, tr. “half a loaf of Egyptian sugar,” v. 352.

Níshábúr (Arab form of Nayshápúr = reeds of (King) Shápur), i. 270.

Nisrín, an island, prob. fabulous, where amber abounds, vi. 12.

“Niyat” (or intention) not pure, cause of King’s failure, v. 111.

Niyyah (Arab.) = intent (normal pun upon the name), iv. 339.

Nizál = dismounting to fight on foot, vi. 231.

“None misses a slice from a cut loaf,” v. 393.

Nose (large in a woman indicating a masculine nature), i. 345.

“No thing poketh and stroketh more strenuously than the Gird,” or hideous Abyssinian Cynocephalus,—popular Eastern belief, iv. 333.

Nukl-i-Pishkil = goat-dung bonbons, i. 288.

Nún al-taakid = the N. of injunction, ii. 23.

Nur al-Nihár = Light of the Day, iii. 419.

Nur Jehán (Pers.) = “Light of the World,” iii. 473.

Nusf = half a dirham, drachma or franc, iv. 19–37.

Nusfs = Halves (i.e., of dirhams), i. 300.

—— (180 in these days = about 10d.), iv. 98.

Nu’umán (Al-), King of the Arab kingdom of Hirah, i. 170.

Nuwab (broken plur. of “Naubah,”) the Anglo-Indian Nowbut (tr. “Drums”), i. 324.

Nuwájiru ’l-wukúfát = Settlement of bequeathal, v. 467.

—— (Steingass reads “nuwájiru”) (for “nuájiru”) ’l-wakúfát and translates “letting for hire such parts of my property as were inalienable” (St.), v. 467.

Nuzhat al-Fuád = “Delight of the Vitals” (or heart), i. 25.

—— al-Zaman = “Delight of the age,” v. 180.

Nuzhat-í = pleasance, ii. 45.

“O man, O miserablest of men, O thou disappointed,” etc., characteristic words of abuse, v. 359.

O my son! O my Child! (repetition a sign of kindness and friendliness) iv. 269.

O my uncle (to elder man): O my cousin! (to youth) iv. 119.

O rider of the jar, i.e., a witch, vi. 76.

O thousand-horned (thousandfold cuckold) i. 247.

O vile of birth (Asl) a man’s origin being held to influence his conduct throughout life, i. 62.

“O Woman,” popular form of address, iii. 108.

“O worshipper of Allah,” i.e., “O Moslem, opposed to enemy of Allah” = a non-Moslem, v. 460.

Oarsman stands to his work in the East, iii. 25.

Oath of triple divorce irrevocable, i. 246.

Obedience to children common in Eastern folk-lore, vi. 90.

Ober-Ammergau “Miracle play,” i. 250.

Objects (better kept hidden) seen with naked eye by telescope (vulgar belief) iii. 438.

Ocular testimony demanded by Moslem law, ii. 17.

“Of which a description will follow in its place,” a regular formula of the Ráwí, or professional reciter, v. 131.

Og bin ’Unk (=Og of the Neck), the fabled King of Bashan, iii. 19.

Oil, anointing with for incipient consumption, ii. 75.

“Old lamps for new lamps—who will exchange?” iii. 159.

’Omán, name of the capital of Eastern Arabia, vi. 139.

Omar ’Adi bin Artah, i. 39.

—— bin Abd al-Aziz = the good Caliph, i. 39.

—— ibn Abi Rabí’ah, the Korashí (i.e. of the Koraysh tribe) i. 41.

Ommiades, Cathedral Mosque of, one of the wonders of the Moslem world, vi. 172.

Onager, the Gúr-i-Khár of Persia, iii. 282.

—— (wild ass) confounded with Zebra, iii. 282.

“One day of the days,” a phrase emphasising the assertion that it was a chance day, iv. 75.

Only son has a voice in the disposal of his sister, vi. 83.

“On my shop” = bit of boarding where the master sits, or on a stool in the street, ii. 281.

“Open the spittle” = to break the fast, v. 51.

Original sin, vi. 247.

Orisons = the prayers of the last day and night, ii. 94.

Osarsiph = Osiris-Sapi (Moses) vi. 112.

“Otbah hath a colic,” vi. 77.

“Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, &c.,” an idea not less Moslem than Christian, iv. 271.

Pá-andáz = carpets and costly cloths, (spread between Baghdad and Meccah for Harun al-Rashid) iii. 177.

—— = cloth to tread upon, vi. 259.

—— (Pers.) = a carpet made of costly stuffs—a perquisite of royal attendants, iii. 141.

Padding introduced to fill up the “night,” v. 460.

Paggí = Tracker, iv. 8.

Palace between two rivers = the Nílotic Rauzah-island, ii. 281.

—— not the place for a religious and scrupulous woman, ii. 229.

Papal bulls and Kings’ letters (in Mediæval Europe) were placed for respect on the head, iii. 89.

Parasang (Gr. παράσάγγης), iii. 456.

Parks on the Coasts of Tropical Seas, i. 320.

Part and parts = more or less thoroughly, ii. 152.

Parturition and death compared with both processes in the temperates of Europe, ii. 23.

Parwez, older pronunciation of the mod. (Khusrau) “Parvíz,” iii. 502.

Pashkhánah = a mosquito-curtain, iii. 121.

Pay-day for boys in Egypt (Thursday) iv. 98.

Payne quoted, i. 1, 8, 11, 34, 56, 134, 165, 209, 222, 238, 278, 286, 288, 289, 306, 311, 312, 322, 327, 338, 344; ii. 28, 54, 67, 73, 85, 110, 112, 154, 191, ib., 200, 227, 231, 238, 251, 263, 267, 275, 281; iv. 332; v. 55, 69.

Paysá (pice) = two farthings and in weight = ½ an oz., iii. 352.

Pear-tree, not found in Badawi land, v. 117.

Penalty inflicted to ensure obedience, iii. 336.

Pennyroyal (here mere “shot”; the orig. has “Baítharán”) v. 458.

Perceval C. de, quoted, vi. 89.

Peri-Banu (The Fairy) iii. 419.

—— (Parí) in its modern form has a superficial resemblance to “Fairy,” iii. 419.

Peris, iii. 419.

Perízádah = Fairy-born, iii. 502.

Perjury easily expiated amongst Moslems, ii. 38.

Perspired in her petticoat trowsers (a physical sign of delight in beauty, usually attributed to old women) v. 142.

Pertinence (in couplets) not a sine quâ non amongst Arabs, v. 135.

Phantasms from the Divine presence of ‘Ali ’Aziz Efendi, the Cretan, iii. 41.

Pharaoh (of Hebrew Scriptures) has become with the Arabs “Fir’aun,” the dynastic name of Egyptian kings, vi. 12.

Pharos of Alexandria, one of the four Wonders of the Moslem world, iv. 36.

Philomelet, The shrilling, iv. 245.

Physiognomist, a favourite character in Arabic folk-lore, iv. 107.

“Physiognomy (‘Firásah’) unless there be the science of, other science availeth not,” iv. 10.

Piastre (Egyptian) = one-fifth of a shilling, iv. 72.

Pictures of faces whose eyes seem to follow beholders, iii. 427.

Pigeon blood, used to resemble the results of a bursten hymen, v. 29.

Pilaff (Turco-English form of Persian Puláo) iii. 326.

Pilgrimage quoted, i. 285, 337, 228, 207, 205, 42, 165, 194; ii. 20, 71, 281, 54, 152, 9, 63, 220, ib., 222, 59, 22, 51; iii. 314, 330, 405, 406; iv. 35, 38, 153, 196, 208, 343; v. 43, 180, 214; vi. 9, 83, 99, 104, 105, 131, 174.

Pilgrims settle in the two Holy Places, iii. 406.

Pír = saint, spiritual guide, iii. 8.

Pírozah = turquoise (Arab. form Fíruzah) iii. 270.

“Písh-namáz” (Pers.) = fore-prayer, iii. 380.

Pit = grave, i. 88.

“Plied him with wine,” a favourite habit with mediæval Arabs, ii. 50.

Poetry (Persian) often alludes to the rose, etc., ii. 99.

“Pointing the moral,” iii. 265.

Police (Eastern) ii. 6.

Porphyry quarries in Middle Egypt, rediscovery of, vi. 60.

Practical joking, a dangerous form of fun, as much affected by Egyptians as Hibernians, v. 455.

“Prayer of Moses, the man of God,” vi. 103.

Prayers at burial, beginning with four “Takbírs,” i. 290.

—— for the dead recited over bier, iii. 380.

——, whilst at, the Moslem cannot be spoken to, i. 197.

Precious stones, Arab superstitions concerning, v. 130.

Precocious children, iii. 416.

Pretext for murdering an enemy to his faith (Jewish) an idea prevalent in Eastern world utterly wrong, v. 214.

“Pretty Fanny’s ways” amongst Moslems, v. 85.

Priah = tearing the foreskin (second operation of circumcision) v. 217.

Primitive attire of Easterns in hot climate, iii. 20.

Prince, petty Indian, preceded in state processions by led horses whose saddles are studded with diamonds, iii. 134.

Prison had seven doors (to indicate its formidable strength) v. 233.

Prisoners expected to feed themselves in Moslem lands, v. 338.

Professional dancer, i.e., a public prostitute, iv. 29.

—— singers, become freed women, turned out “respectable,” ii. 254.

Prothesis without apodosis, figure, iv. 29.

Public gaol = here the Head Policeman’s house. In mod. times it is part of the wall in Governor’s palace, v. 337.

Pummel of the saddle, ii. 85.

Punishment by flogging, vi. 9.

Purse = Kis = 500 piastres = £5, iv. 74.

Purses, one thousand compose the Treasury (“Khaznah”) = £5,000, iv. 74.

Puzzling questions and clever replies, a favourite exercise in the East, vi. 97.

Quarters, containing rooms in which girls are sold, ii. 71.

Queen Shu’á’ah = Queen Sunbeam, ii. 107.

“Quench that fire for him” (i.e. hush up the matter) ii. 15.

“Quicker to slay than Amrú bin Kulsum” (Proverb) vi. 94.

Raas Ghanam = a head of sheep (form of expressing singularity common to Arabic) ii. 207.

—— Sukkar = Loaf sugar, v. 352.

Raba’ = lit. spring quarters (tr. “a lodging house”) ii. 19.

Rabí’a vi. 245.

Rabite (steed of purest) = an Arab of noble strain, iii. 287.

Radáh (a form of “Rádih”) = “the large hipped,” v. 198.

Radíf or back-rider, common in Arabia, v. 162.

Rádih, a P.N. (St.) v. 161.

“Rafá al-Bashkhánah” = he raised a hanging, a curtain (tr. “the arras”) iii. 121.

Rafaka (and “Zafaka”) = took their pleasure, v. 282.

Rábíb = monk or lion (tr. “God-fearing”) vi. 155.

Rahíl = Rachel, iii. 355.

Ráhilah = a riding camel, i. 315.

“Rahúm” for “Rahím” (Doric form) = compassionate, vi. 18.

Rahwán (cor. of Rahbán) = one who keeps the (right) way, i. 191.

“Rá’ih fayn” = wending (art thou) whither? iv. 207.

Ráih yasír (Arab.) = about to become (peasant’s language) iii. 131.

Rain and bounty are synonymous, i. 43.

Ra’ís (fem. Ra’ísah) the captain, the skipper (not the owner) iv. 125., v. 22.

Raisins, an efficacious “pick-me-up,” v. 51.

Rajah of Baroda, iii. 134.

Rajul ikhtiyár, tr. “a man of a certain age” (polite term for old man) v. 402.

—— Ja’ídí = Larrikin, iv 280.

—— Khuzari (Arab.) = a green-meat man (tr. “costermonger”) v. 291.

—— Khwájá = Gentleman, v. 254.

“Rákiba-há”; the technical term for demoniac possession, v. 326.

Ram’s mutton preferred in wilder tribes of the East, because it gives the teeth more to do, v. 299.

Ramaha bi-h = bolted with him, v. 382.

Rankah or “Ranakah” prob. for “Raunakah,” which usually means “troubled” (speaking of water) (St.) v. 66.

Rape, i. 311.

Rasátík (pl. of Rusták) = villages, i. 256.

Rashákah Al- (Arab.) a word not found in common lexicons, said to be a fork with three prongs, here probably a hat stand (tr. “peg”) (St.) v. 244.

Rasílah = a (she) partner (tr. “accompanyist”) ii. 44.

Rasmál (vulg. Syrian and Egyptian form of Raas al-mál = stock in trade) = capital in hand, i. 248.

Ratl (Arab.) pron. by Europeans “Rotl” (Rotolo) = a pound, iii. 128; iv. 295.

“Rauzah” in Algiers was a royal park, vi. 243.

“Rauz al-Sanájirah” = plain of the Sinjars, vi. 243.

Ráwi = a professional tale-teller (tr. “Seer”) i. 56.

Rayhánah, i.e. the “Basil,” mostly a servile name, ii. 20.

Razah = cedar or fir (old controversy) vi. 5.

Rází (Al-) = a native of Rayy City, i. 288.

Reading of “meat and drink” enjoyed by Arabs as much as by Englishmen, iv. 160.

Reading placed in more honourable place than writing (“Writing and reading,” as opposed to “Reading and writing”) vi. 5.

Red camel (Ahmar) ii. 248.

Red robes a sign of displeasure, iv. 297.

Red Sea (Holy Writ does not say that Pharaoh was drowned in) vi. 99.

Rent his robes (usually a sign of quiet, here a mark of strong excitement) v. 71.

Retribution confined to this life, and belief that Fate is fruit of man’s actions (Mosaic theory) vi. 140.

Re-union after severance—modesty in Alaeddin as contrasted with Kamar al-Zamán, etc., iii. 176.

Revetment of old wells in Arabia, mostly of dry masonry, v. 132.

Rheumatism, a common complaint in even the hottest climates, v. 160.

Riddle or conundrum, vi. 97.

Riding men as asses, a facetious exaggeration of an African practice, vi. 240.

Right hand (seated at the) a place of honour in Europe; amongst Moslems the place would be to the left, iii. 136.

Ríh = Wind, gust (of temper), pride, rage, v. 58.

Rikáb (Arab.) = Stirrup + “dár” (Pers.) = holder (tr. “groom”) iv. 24.

Rikkí al-Saut = soften the sound (or “lower thy voice,”) ii. 89.

“Ring and the Lamp” have a magical effect over physique and morale of the owner, iii. 104.

Ring given as token to show fair play, i. 248.

Rísah (copyist’s error for “Rishah”) = a thread, feather, line, iv. 259.

“Rise that I may seat myself in thy stead” (addressed to the full moon)—true Orientalism, iii. 151.

Ríshah = feather, plume, (usual meaning) Dr. Steingass explains, iv. 259.

Rising up and sitting down, usual sign of emotion, i. 348.

Riyál (from, the Span. “Real”) = royal (coin) tr. “real”, iv. 284.

“Rizk” equiv. for “Al-Rizku ’l-hasanu” = any good thing obtained without exertion (St.) iv. 245.

—— maksúm (Al-), an old and sage byword pregnant with significance, iv. 245.

Roc or vulture, vi. 23.

Rod of Moses became a common symbol of dignity, etc., vi. 157.

Rods of Moses and Aaron, vi. 98, 99.

Rodwell quoted, v. 42, 48.

Roger, old name of the parish bull in rural England, iv. 203.

“Rose up and sat down,” a sign of agitation, v. 328.

Rosso antico (mostly a porphyry) iii. 139.

Roum = Greeks, i. 134.

—— city of (Rúmí) vi. 89.

“Rub’a” (Arab.) pl. Arbá = the fourth of a “Waybah” (tr. “half a quartern”) iv. 128.

“Rudaynían,” from “Rudaynah,” either a woman or a place, vi. 230.

Rúh Allah lit. = breath of Allah (tr. “Spirit of Allah”) i. 251.

Rúhi = lit. my breath (tr. “my sprite”) ii. 120.

Rukh = Roc, iii. 186.

—— (the mythical—mixed up with the mysterious bird Símurgh) iii. 188.

Rukhám = marble or alabaster, here used for building material, vi. 60.

Rumh = lance, i. 90.

Rúmí (“Roum”) in Marocco and other parts of Moslem world is still syn. with our “European,” vi. 89.

Rusáfiyah = a cap, i. 160.

“Rushdu ’llah” or “Al-Hudà,” spiritual direction or divine grace received from Allah, vi. 104.

Russians (Asiatics have a very contemptible opinion of the) v. 119.

Rustáki, from Rusták, a quarter of Baghdad, ii. 209.

Rutab wa manázil = degrees and dignities, i. 217.

Sá’ah = the German Stunde, our old “Stound” (meaning to Moslems the spaces between prayer-times) v. 151.

“Sa’alab” or “Tha’lab” = Fox, vi. 146.

Sabba raml = cast in sand (may be clerical error for “Zaraba raml” = he struck sand, i.e., made geomantic figures), here tr. “striking a geomantic table,” iii. 68.

“Sabbal’alayhim (for ’alayhinna, the usual masc. pro fem.) Al-Sattár” (Arab.) = lit. “the Veiler let down a curtain upon them,” v. 276.

Sabbath (the) = the Saturday, iii. 64.

Sabt = Sabbath, Saturday, v. 228, 324.

Sa’d = prosperity, iii. 341.

Sádah (Al-) wa al-Khatáyát tr. “various colors both plain and striped,” v. 223.

“Sádát wa Ashráf” = Sayyids and Sharífs, vi. 233.

Sa’dí = prosperous, iii. 341.

Sàdir (Al-) w al-Ghádí = those who went forth betime (the latter may mean those who came for the morning meal) iii. 27.

Saff Kamaríyát min al-Zujáj = glazed and coloured lunettes, ii. 39.

Safíh = slab over the grave (tr. “pave”) i. 41.

Safúl (Al-) = ranks of fighting men, or rows of threads on a loom, i. 48.

Sáhah = courtyard (as opposed to “Bathah” = inner court), i. 284.

Sáhal for Sahal (broad “Doric” of Syria) iii. 125.

Sahará pron. Sahrá, i. 251.

Sahbá = red wine, ii. 99.

(“Sahha) ’alakah (=a something) fí hazá ’l-Amri” = albeit I will take no part, vi. 245.

Sáhib = owner (same as “Dallál” = broker) iv. 224.

“—— al-Hayát” = astronomer (may also = a physiognomist) v. 289.

“—— al-jayyid” (Al-) (Arab.) = excellent companion, vi. 5.

Sáhibi-h = his mate (masculine) iv. 346.

Sáhils, or shorelands, ii. 3.

Sahl meaning “the easy tempered” (Scott writes “Sohul”) v. 138.

Sahrá (Arab.) = desert (applied by Persians to waste grounds about a town: hereto “barren hill-country”) iii. 67.

Sahríj = Cistern, v. 5.

Sails hoisted and canvas loosed (anchors weighed and canvas spread) i. 321.

Sajálmah-bird, unknown to dictionaries, prob. species of hawk, vi. 35.

“Sakalat” (Pers.) or “Saklatún,” whence Mr. Skeat would derive “scarlet,” vi. 5.

Sakf (flat roof), must have a parapet (a Jewish precaution neglected by Al-Islam) v. 219.

Sakhrah = labour, i. 84.

Sakhtúr (Arab.) for “Shakhtúr” tr. “batel,” v. 163.

Sákiyah = water-wheel, ii. 47.

Sakk (pl. “Sikák” and “Sukúk”) = “nail” (St.) v. 380.

Sakká (Arab.) = a water carrier, vi. 46.

“—— Sharbah,” who supplies water to passengers in streets, vi. 46.

Salaku-hu wa nashalú-hu = “they scored it,” v. 395.

“Salám” here = Heaven’s blessing, vi. 97.

Salám pronounced after prayers, i. 14.

Salásín = thirty (a clerical error for “three”) iv. 310.

Salát, sundry technical meanings, vi. 103.

—— = the formal ceremonious prayer, vi. 103.

“Salb” = impalement, everywhere else meaning crucifixion, vi. 206–1.

“Sálihín” (Arab.) = the Saints, the Holy ones (tr. “the Hallows”) iv. 218.

Salkh (Arab.) = flaying (meaning also a peculiar form of circumcision) v. 214.

Salt rubbed on wounds to staunch the blood, v. 97.

Samár (Arab.) from Pers. “Sumar” = a reed, a rush, v. 226.

Samaria (according to Moslems, Shamrín and Shamrún) iii. 271.

Samaritans, vi. 160–1.

Samáwah, confounded with Kerbela—a desert with a place of pilgrimage, iii. 484.

——, Desert of, iii. 484.

—— (Town on Euphrates) iii. 484.

Samd = carpets and pots and pans (tr. Vaiselle) vi. 64.

Samhari, vi. 229.

Sámiri Al-, Golden Calf of, vi. 160.

——, translated by Christian commentators as “Samaritan,” vi. 160.

Sammán = quail, v. 151.

“Samman” (for “Sammán”) = quails, vi. 66.

“——” or “Summán” (classically “Salwá”) = quails, vi. 147.

Sammár = reciters, ii. 3.

Samm Sá’ah (in text), tr. “poison of the hour,” v. 352.

Samson’s enigma (Judges xiv. 12), vi. 106.

Sandarúsah (Arab.) = red juniper gum (from Pers. “Sandar” = amber) tr. “Sandarach,” vi. 141.

Sanják (in modern parlance) = minor
province, iv. 245.

—— (Turk.) = flag, banner, iv. 245.

—— -dar = the banner-bearer, ensign, iv. 245.

Sankharíb the Sovran, vi. 3.

Santír = psalteries, ii. 246.

Sapídaj (corresponding with “Isfidaj”), tr. “ceruse” or white lead, v. 130.

Sára’a hu wa láwa’a-hu = he rushed upon him and worried him (St.) iv. 266.

Sára la-hu Shanán, tr. “In his new degree he was feared,” v. 472.

—— (Steingass reads “Thániyan” = and he became second to him (the Sultan), i.e., his alter ego) v. 472.

Sar’a’l-Lijám, tr. “bridal thongs,” v. 385.

“Sárayah” (for “Saráyah,” Serai, Government House), tr. “Palace,” v. 6.

Saráy not to be confounded with Serraglio = Harem, iv. 234.

—— (Pers.) official head-quarters of the Walí, iv. 234.

Sára yuráshí-h, tr. “kindness and liberality,” v. 473.

—— (“Yuráshí” and “Yuráshú” are the 6th form of “rashá, yarshú”) = he bestowed a gift (principally for the sake of bribery), he treated kindly (St.) v. 473.

Sardáb = a souterrain, v. 117.

Sarhádún = “Sarkhadom” (Gauttier). The great usurper Sargon, vi. 6.

Sarír = a bier without the corpse, iv. 289.

“Sarkhah adwat la-há al-Saráyah” = a cry to which the Palace women raised an echo (St.) iv. 272.

Sarmújah (Arab.) = sandals, slippers, etc., v. 442;

- from Pers. “Sarmúzah,” a kind of hose or gaiter worn over a boot (St.) v. 217.

Sarráf = a money changer (tr. “shroff”) iii. 333.

—— Sarra Surrah (Surratan) = he tied up a purse (St.) v. 412.

Sarsarah (cler. error for “Akhaza (?) surratan”) = he took a purse, v. 462.

Sárú (dakhalú, jalasú, etc.), in the plural for the dual—popular and vulgar speech, iii. 66.

Sat down (in sign of agitation) ii. 211.

Satíhah (Arab.) = a She-Satíh, iv. 69.

Satl = water-can (Lat. and Etruscan Situla and Situlus, a water-pot) i. 291.

Sattár (Arab.) = “The Veiler” iv. 31 (corresponding with “Jupiter Servator”) iv. 270.

Sawábi (a regularly formed broken plural of a singular “Sábi’” = the pointing one) (St.) v. 419.

Sawáki = channels, ii. 93.

Sayabán (Pers.) = canopy, iv. 129.

Sayf kunúzí = a talismanic scymitar (tr. “magical sword”) v. 426.

Sayfu (Al-) w’-al Kalanj = scymitar and dagger, v. 381.

Sayyád, lit. = a fisherman, vi. 161.

Sayyáh (Al-) = the Shrieker, iv. 245.

Sayyid (descendant of Hasan) and the Sharíf (der. from Husayn) = difference between, v. 39.

“Sáza, Yasízu” (Arab.) tr. “genealogist,” not a dictionary word—perhaps a clerical error for “Sāsa” = he groomed or broke in a horse, iv. 21.

Scarlet (red, violet, white, green) vi. 5.

“Sciences are of three kinds, etc.” iv. 10.

Scott quoted, iv. 3, 7, 14, 19, 27, 35, 43, 45, 55, 56, 59, 67, 74, 80, 90, 95, 97, 109, 127, 169, 176, 189, 244, 297, 303, 307, 334, 351; v. 3, 17, 21, 22, ib. 24, 30, 36, 39, 44, 50, 63, 65, 105, 114, 116, 119, 120, 123, 125, 138, 153, 184, 210, 213, 214, 227, 231, 253, 263, 273, 321, 335, 347, 357, 465.

Seal-ring (or Signet-ring) iii. 72.

Second-sight (Egypt. “Darb al-Mandal”) iv. 45.

Secret, difficult for an Eastern to keep, i. 342.

Seed pearls made into great pearls (also rubies and branch-coral) i. 197.

Seeking to release Soul of Prince who had perished, iii. 298.

Semi-abortions (preservation of, a curse in sixth century) iii. 498.

Sentiment, morbid and unmasculine French, contrasted with the healthy and manly tone of the Nights, v. 267.

Serraglio-palace; der. from Serai (Pers.) = a palace, also der. from Cerrar (Spanish and Portuguese) = to shut up, iii. 128.

Service (yearly value of his fief), i. 256.

Seven ages of woman-kind, v. 56.

—— handwritings, vi. 226.

Severance-spies = stars and planets, ii. 236.

Sha’abán (his face gladdening as the crescent moon of) v. 142.

Shabakah = net (hung over shop during absence of shopkeeper) i. 205.

Shabaytar = the Shuhrúr (in MS. Suhrúr) = a blackbird, v. 151.

—— also called “Samaytar” and “Abu al-Ayzar” = the father of the brisk one (a long-necked bird like heron) (St.) v. 151.

“Shadow of Allah,” a title of the Shah, iii. 531.

Shaghaf = violent love, joy, grief, vi. 15.

Shaghaftíní (also “Ashghaftíní”) from Shaghaf = violent love, joy, grief = “Thou hast enamoured me,” vi. 15.

Shaghrí (Pers.), e.g. “Kyafsh-i-Shaghri” = slippers of shagreen, iii. 282.

Shagreen (der. from Pers.) “Shaghri,” produced by skin of wild ass, iii. 282.

Shah Bakht = King Luck, i. 191.

Shah-Goase (Shah Ghawwás = King Diver), vi. 233.

Shahbán, Bresl. Edit. form of Shahryár = City-keeper, for City-friend, i. 334.

Sháhbander = King of the port, a harbour master, v. 254.

Sháhinsháh = King of kings, iii. 534.

—— a title first assumed by Ardashír, iii. 500.

Sháhmiyánah = a huge marquee or pavilion tent in India, iii. 469.

Sháhrazád (in Mac. Edit. Shahrázád) i. 334.

Shahrazád and Shahryar, ii. 259.

Shahr-Bánu (Pers.) = City-queen, iii. 486.

Shahrbáz (W. M. MS.) = City-player or city-falcon, iv. 6.

Shahrzádah (W. M. MS.) = “City born” (for “Shahrázád”) iv. 6.

Shahwah (Arab.) = lust, iii. 33.

Shahwah dáram = I am lustful, iii. 33.

Shá’il, copyist’s error for “Shághil,” act. part of Shughl = business affairs, v. 245.

—— (Here probably for the fuller “Shughl shághil”) = an urgent business (St.) v. 245.

Shajarat al-Durr = Branch of Pearl, i. 12.

—— Rih = Wind-tree (?) iv. 138.

Shakbán = the end of cloth, gown, cloak, etc. (Houdas) vi. 189.

Sháked (Heb.) = Almond-tree, vi. 7.

Shakhat, tr. here “revile” (St.) v. 3.

Shakhs = carven image, v. 30.

—— either a person or an image (here tr. “Image”) iii. 18.

—— mafsúd = man of perverted belief (i.e., an infidel) i. 352.

Shaking his clothes (in sign of quitting possession) ii. 205.

“—— out his skirts,” a sign of willingly parting with possessions, iii. 316.

Shakk (Arab.) = splitting or quartering, v. 96.

Shaklaba (here = “shakala”) = he weighed out (money), he had to do with a woman (tr. “tumbled”) v. 291.

Shalabi = a dandy, a macaroni (from the Turk. Chelebi) v. 243.

Shám = Syria (and its capital) called Damascus (Cotheal MS.) vi. 167.

Sham’ádín, a would-be Arabic plural of the Persian “Sham’adán” = candlestick, chandelier, iii. 109.

Shamámah (or “Chamama,” accord. to Gauttier and Heron) vi. 68.

Shámat = cheek mole (beauty spot), applied to Damascus (Shám) vi. 167.

“Shám ba’d az nisf-i-shab” = dinner after midnight = supper (St.) iv. 244.

Shame (uncovered my), in this instance “head and face,” v. 329.

Shámiyánah = a royal pavilion (cor. of Pers. “Sayabán” = canopy) iv. 129.

Shámiyát bi al-Nár, an Inquisitorial costume (tr. “a black habit bepatched with flame colour”) iv. 79.

Shampooing (practice of) i. 116.

Shamrín (and Shamrún) = Samaria, iii. 271.

Shamúl (fem.) = liquor hung in the wind to cool, i. 42.

Sharárah = a spark, ii. 87.

Sharí’at, forbidding divorce by compulsion, ii. 147.

Sharif (a descendant from Mohammed) i. 285.

Sharífí = a sequin, ii. 143.

Sharkh (Arab.) = in dicts. the unpolished blade of hiltless sword (tr. here “a butcher’s chopper”) iv. 220.

Sharkíyah (province in Egypt) ii. 16.

Sharr (Al-) (“the wickedness”) last city in Meckran before entering Sind, i. 336.

—— fi al-Haramayn = wickedness in the two Holy Places, ii. 220.

Shásh = a small compact white turband and distinctive sign of the true Believer, v. 143.

Shashmah (from Pers. “Chashmah” = fountain) tr. “privies,” v. 458.

Shástras—Hindu Scripture or Holy Writ, iii. 429.

Shatárah (prop. cleverness), signifying vileness and rashness (St.) v. 220.

Shawáhid (meaning that heart testifies to heart) tr. “hearts have their witnesses,” ii. 87.

Shawwara binta-hu = he gave a marriage outfit to his daughter (St.) v. 28.

Shaybání (Al-) = “Of the Shaybán tribe” ii. 191.

Shayh = Artemisia, iv. 343.

Shaykh becomes ceremonially impure by handling a corpse, i. 290.

——, for humility, sits at the side of room, not at the top (“Sadr”) iv. 84.

—— of Islam, v. 317.

—— or head of the Guild for thieves, iv. 282.

—— al-Hujjáj = Shaykh of the Pilgrims, ii. 63.

—— al-Islám, the Chief of the Moslem Church, iv. 69.

“—— al-Tawaif” may mean “Shaykh of the Tribes” (of Jinns) ii. 117.

Shayyan li’lláh = lit. (Give me some) Thing for (the love of) Allah (tr. “An alms, for the love of Allah”) ii. 44.

Shayy bi-lásh = lit. “a thing gratis or in vain” (here tr. “matters beyond the range of matter”) iii. 68.

Sházz = Voice (doubtful if girl’s, nightingale’s, or dove’s) ii. 244.

“She had never gone or come” = she was in her own home, iii. 183.

“—— heard a blowing behind her” (a phenomenon well known to spiritualists) ii. 101.

“—— will double thy store of presents,” ii. 111.

Sherbet and coffee, mention of, makes the tale synchronous with that of Ma’aruf or the xvii. century, iv. 55.

Sherífí pl. of Sherífíyah (Egyptian form); here “Ashrafis,” iv. 336.

Shi’ah doctrine, v. 178.

Shikk (Arab.) = Half-man, iv. 69, 76.

Ship’s crew run on shore on their own business immediately the vessel cast anchor, v. 475.

Shísheh-ká paysá = a (pice) small coin of glass, iii. 351.

Shīve-Zād, iii. 47.

“Shobási,” for “Sobáshí,” vi. 191.

Shooting shafts and firing bullets at the butt, practised by Easterns on horseback, v. 421.

Shroft (Arab Sayrafi) i. 298.

Shubbák = lattice (also “Mashrabiyah” = latticed balcony) i. 29.

“Shúf-hu,” (Arab.) (colloquial form of “Shuf-hu”) = look upon him, iii. 58.

Shuhbá (Al-) = Ash-coloured, verging upon white, ii. 110.

“Shuhrúr al-kanísah” = the Blackbird of the Church (Christians in Syria call St. Paul, on account of his eloquence) (St.) v. 151.

“Shurbah” (Pers. Shorbah) = mess of pottage (tr. “dish of roast meat”) iv. 22.

Shúwár (Arab.) = trousseau (St.) v. 28.

Si’at rizki-h = the ease with which he earned his livelihood (tr. “fortune”) i. 282.

Sibák (Arab.) usually = a leash (for falconry) tr. “silken cord,” vi. 46.

Sídí mistaken for Sayyid, iii. 321.

—— = my lord, iii. 321.

—— = “my lord” here becomes part of a name, ii. 151.

—— Nu’uman (sometimes “Sidi Nouman,” or “Sidi Nonman”) iii. 321.

Sífah (Arab.) lit. = a quality (tr. “property”) iv. 102.

Signet-ring made of carnelian, v. 52.

—— of kingship (important sign of sovereignty) v. 112.

Sijn al-Dam = the Prison of Blood, ii. 161.

Sikálah (Sing.) = scaffolding, vi. 61.

Sikbáj a marinated stew like Zirbájah, vi. 160.

—— (Pers. Sikbá) called “Mother of Hospitality,” being principal dish set before guests, vi. 159.

Sikkah (pl. Sikak) = (amongst other meanings) “an iron post or stake” (St.) v. 380.

Silk, Moslems may be shrouded in it, i. 26.

Silken napkins, iv. 55.

—— platters, iii. 93.

Simá’a lit. hearing applied idiomatically to the ecstacy of Darwayshes when listening to esoteric poetry, v. 151.

Sim’án-son = son of Simeon, i.e., a Christian, ii. 175.

Símiyá = fascination (a form of magic) vi. 132.

Simsim (or “Samsam”) The grain = Sesamum Orientale, iii. 370.

Sin akhi-irib = Sini (Lunus, or the Moon-god) increaseth brethren (Etymology of “Sankharíb”) vi. 3.

Sín Al- (in text) = China (here “Al-Sind”) v. 194.

Sinaubar (tr. “pine”) may also mean pistachio-tree, vi. 163.

Sind Revisited quoted, iv. 8; v. 3.

—— (so-called from Sindhu, the Indus, Pers. “Sindáb”) v. 3.

Sindiyán (from the Persian) = holm-oak, i. 247.

Singing and music blameable (Makrúh), though not actually damnable, ii. 46.

Síníyah = tray of tinned copper, iv. 170.

Sir fí hálik (pron. Sirfhák) = Go about thy business, ii. 44.

Sirhán = wolf, iv. 19.

Sirr (a secret), afterwards Kitman (concealment) = keeping a lover down-hearted, ii. 218.

“Sirru ’l-iláhi,” i.e., the soul which is “divinæ particula auræ” (tr. “Divine mystery”) v. 466.

Sirt’anta = thou hast become (for Sirtu ana = I have become) v. 86.

Sístán (Persian) Arab. Sijistán, i. 56.

Sitt al-Miláh = Lady or princess of the Fair (ones) ii. 155.

“Sitt-há” (Arab.), tr. “Mistress” (Mauritanians prefers “Sídah” and Arabian Arabs “Kabírah”) = the first lady, Madame Mère, v. 364.

Siwán (Arab.) pl. Siwáwín = pavilion, iv. 113.

Skin of wild ass produce the famous shagreen, iii. 282.

Slave become a King (no shame to Moslems) i. 348.

Slaves fond of talking over their sale, ii. 94.

——, when useless, made to “walk a plank” or tossed into the sea, v. 405.

Sleep at mid-forenoon (and afternoon) considered unwholesome by Easterns, iv. 324.

“—— with both feet in one stocking” (Irish saying for “Have a care of thyself”) v. 442.

Sleeping postures, iii. 183.

—— with drawn sword between man and maid, iii. 116.

“Smell the air” = a walk, a “constitutional,” iii. 397.

“Smoke of camel’s dung” to drive off Evil Spirits, iv. 78.

Smoking and coffee, v. 236.

Sneezes (ceremony when a Moslem), iv. 95.

“Snsál” for “Salsál” = lit. chain (tr. “borders”) vi. 235.

Soghd Samarkand = plain of Samarkand, iii. 436.

“Solaced himself by gazing upon the trees and waters,” a feeling well known to the traveller, v. 390.

Soldiers serving on feudal tenure, i. 256.

Solomon’s Judgment, Moslem version of, iv. 236.

“Some one to back us,” i. 135.

“Son of a minute, The,” i.e., which would take effect in the shortest time, iii. 171.

“Son of the Road” = a mere passer-by, a stranger, ii. 235.

Son (youngest of three) generally Fortune’s favourite in folk-lore, iii. 453.

Sons = Men, a characteristic Arab. idiom, i. 2.

—— of Adam = his Moslem neighbours, ii. 30.

—— of the Path = Travellers, nomads, wild Arabs, ii. 213.

Soudans, Two, iv. 305.

Soul of Prince who had perished (seeking to release) iii. 298.

“Spare not blows to thy child,” a barbarous sentiment of Biblical inspiration, vi. 9.

“—— the rod and spoil the child,” vi. 9.

“Spoiling for a fight,” ii. 199.

Spreading (the mats, mattresses, rugs, etc., of well-to-do Eastern lodging) v. 233.

“Squeezed my ribs,” a bear-like attack, common amongst lower orders of Egypt and Syria, ii. 47.

Standards and colours, an unfailing accompaniment of the Jinn army, iv. 89

“Stick wherewith he tapped and drew lines in absent fashion on the ground,” v. 10.

Stirrup, The Arab, iii. 478.

Stomach has two mouths, œsophagic above and pyloric below, v. 52.

Stone tied in kerchief or rag, weapon for fighting, v. 350.

Story of the First Lunatic (variants) iv. 49.

Story-telling, servile work, v. 34.

St. Paul, called by the Christians in Syria “Shuhrúr al-Kanísah,” the Blackbird of the Church (on account of his eloquence) (St.) v. 151.

Stranger invites a guest during pilgrimage-time, i. 195.

“Striking palm upon palm,” i.e., in sign of despair, iv. 252.

—— the nape = “boxing ears” (Moslem equiv.) vi. 35.

“Subaudi” = “that hath not been pierced” (a virgin) v. 223.

Subjects (men who pay taxes) i. 256.

Subjects (Persian) both women and men are virtually King’s slaves, iii. 533.

Subú’ (Arab.) for Yaum al-Subú’ = Septena-festival on the seventh day after a birth, marriage, or return from pilgrimage, iv. 122.

Sufrah = the cloth (tr. “table cloth”) iv. 69.

—— of leather = circular leather which acts as provision bag and tablecloth, iv. 162.

—— umm jalájil (Arab.) lit. = an eating cloth with little bells, iv. 169.

Sugar (Europe-made white) avoided by Moslems as unlawful, v. 352.

—— (Sukkar), v. 352.

Suicide, Hindus adepts in, iii. 166.

—— rare in Moslem lands, i. 325.

Sujjádah = lit. a praying carpet (tr. “rug”) iv. 52; v. 225.

Sukkar from Pers. “Shakkar” (whence Lat. Saccharum) the generic term, v. 352.

Sullam (pl. “Salálim”) popularly used for a flight of steps (tr. here souterrain-stairs) iii. 75.

Sultan, amongst Arabs may denote any dignity from a Shaykh to a Sultan, vi. 226.

“—— and his Sons etc.,” same as Scott’s “Story of the Three Princes, etc.,” iv. 44.

—— of Al-Yaman and his three Sons (ver. taken from Zotenberg’s “Chronique de Tabari”), iv. 3.

—— of the Jánn preceded by sweepers;
always appears in the form of “second sight” called by Egyptians “Darb al-Mandal,” iv. 45.

Sultanate for Women Custom of Al-Islam, a strong precedent against queenly rule, i. 350.

Sulúk (Arab.) a sufistical expression, the road to salvation (tr. “paths”), iii. 185.

Summák = a plant with acid flavour, dried, pounded, and peppered with meat, vi. 160.

Sun fare backwards = “to eclipse the sun,” vi. 107.

Sunnah = the practice, etc., of the Prophet, v. 193.

—— and Farz = The practice (of the Prophet) and the Holy Law (Koranic) ii. 10.

Supernatural agency makes the most satisfactory version of tale, v. 118.

Supper comes first because the day begins at sundown, iv. 120.

—— (“dinner after midnight”). See Shah’s diary (St.) iv. 244.

Surah = Koranic chapter; here possibly clerical error for Súrah sort (of food), ii. 173.

Suráyyát (lit. the Pleiades) and Sham’ádin, a would-be plural (Arabic) of the Persian “Sham’adán” = candlestick, chandelier, iii. 109.

Surúr = joy, contentment, v. 200.

Súsah (Arab.) = weevil, moth, worm, iv. 23.

Súsan = the lily (in Heb.) ii. 116.

Su’ubán (Arab.) = cockatrice (tr. “Basilisk”) v. 427.

“Suwán” (Arab.) lit. = rock syenite, hard stone, flint (tr. “mace”) iv. 24.

Suwaydá al-Kalb (the black one of the heart) = original sin (synonymous with “Habbat al-Kalb” = the grain in the heart), both metaphorically used for “original sin.” (St.) vi. 247.

“Suwayd” and “Suwaydá,” diminutives of “Aswad” = black. (St.) vi. 247.

Suwaydá, lit. “a small and blackish woman,” vi. 247.

Swooper of the Jinn, ii. 202.

Symmetromania, Arab., iv. 67.

Syria, city of (“the stubbornest of places and the feeblest of races”) v. 41.

“Syrian and three women of Cairo” (Variants) v. 273.

Ta’-ám = Millet seed (tr. “grain”) i. 5.

Taannafú = making “long noses,” i. 300.

Ta’arkalak, (Arab.) = waylay thee, vi. 7.

Taawíl = the commentary or explanation of Moslem Holy Writ, v. 43.

Ta’ayyun = influence (especially by the “’Ayn” (evil) Eye) tr. “fascinate,” v. 166.

Táb = “tip-cat,” ii. 54.

Tábah = gag, vi. 184.

Tabaristán (adj. Tabari), whereas Tabaráni = native of Tiberias, i. 94.

Tabariyyah = Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth) where, according to some Moslems, the Solomon was buried, vi. 101.

Tabíb Al- = the scientific practitioner (in pop. parlance) v. 326.

Tabshálím, (a word which appears to be a corruption bearing a resemblance to “Dabshalim,” meaning “a mighty king”) vi. 23.

Ta’dilú = Swerve (also “Ye do injustice”) i. 52.

Táf (Al-) a suburb of Baghdah, ii. 71.

Tafazzal (Arab.) a useful word employed in invitations, equiv. to “Have the kindness” iv. 84;

- Tafazzalú, iv. 233.

Taffaytu-hu = extinguish (tr. “put it out”) iii. 84.

Tafl (Arab.) = a kind of clay, iii. 348.

Tafrik wa’l-jam’a = division and union, i. 222.

Tá-Há = the Koranic chapter No. XX. revealed at Meccah, v. 180.

——, whose first 14–16 verses are said to have converted the hard-headed Omar, vi. 157.

“Tahlíl” = making word or deed canonically lawful, v. 43.

Tahrím = rendering any action “harám” or unlawful, v. 43.

Tahzib—reforming morals, amending conduct, etc., ii. 240.

Tai = Man of the tribe of Tay, i. 180.

Taí Al- (relative adjective of irregular formation) v. 46.

Tail, lashing his (lion’s) symptom of rage distinguishing felines from canines, iv. 161.

Tá’il al-Wasf = “Drawer out of Descriptions,” v. 185.

Tajní = lit. thou pluckest (the fruit of good deeds) vi. 104.

Tajrís, rendered by a circumlocution “Bell,” v. 337.

Ták (or Tákah) = a little wall-niche, iii. 351.

Takbír and Tahlíl, i.e., Crying the war cry, “Alláho Akbar” = “God is most Great,” and “Lá iláha illa ’llah” the refrain of Unity, v. 403.

Takhsa-u, tr. “baffled,” a curious word of venerable age (St.) v. 44.

Takht Raml = table of sand, geomantic table, v. 153.

Takhtrawán = mule-litter, vi. 181.

Ta’kil (Arab.) tying up a camel’s foreleg above the knee, iv. 23.

Tákiyah = litter, i. 99.

—— = calotte or skull-cap, iv. 120.

Takrit, a town in Mesopotamia celebrated for its velvets, etc. (St.) iv. 337.

Takrúri = a Moslem negroid from Central and Western North Africa, iv. 298.

Takwà (form gen. used for “Ittikà”) = fearing God, vi. 96.

Talákan báinan = a triple divorce before witnesses, ii. 148.

Talámizah = disciples (sing. Talmíz) i. 251.

Tale of the Simpleton Husband i. 239. (W. M. Version) v. 116.

Tales were told before the peep of day, i. 359.

Tamanná (Arab.) = “She saluted the king by kissing her finger tips and raising them to her brow,” iii. 108.

Tamásil = (the Pavilion of) Pictures (generally carved images), i. 29.

Tambúr der. from “Tabl” = a drum (hence modern “Tambour”) iv. 209.

Tá-mera (Coptic) = the Land of the Nile Flood, vi. 12.

Tamím (Arab.) pl. of Tamímat = spells, charms, amulets, “Thummim,” iv. 332.

Tamkín = gravity, assurance (tr. “Self-possession”) ii. 8.

Tamtar Aysh? (Arab.) i.e., Ayyu Shayyin “What do the skies rain!” iv. 207.

Tannúr = large earthern jar (tr. “oven-jar”) i. 208.

—— = oven, (misprint for “Kubúr” = Tombs) i. 265.

Tanzíl = coming down, revelation of the Koran, v. 43.

Tarábulus-town (also Atrábulus) arabisations of Tripolis, iv. 169.

Tarajjama, frequently used in this MS. (St.) iv. 242.

—— = he deprecated, v. 12.

“Tarajjum,” taking refuge from Satan the Stoned (Rajím) vi. 190.

Tarammá al-Mahramah (throwing the handkerchief) used in the old forms of choosing a mate, iv. 31.

Tarbíyatí = yearling, i. 348.

Tarfah = Tamarisk, ii. 252.

Tari (Arab.) lit. = wet (tr. “soothing”) iv. 71.

Tarjumán = a dragoman (tr. “Truchman”) ii. 185; vi. 89.

Tarjumánah (fem. of “Tarjumán” = a dragoman) = lit. an “interpreter” woman, vi. 89.

Tarkah = “A gin,” a snare, i. 16.

Tartara (Arab.) tr. “perked up” (prob. an emphatic reduplication of Tarra = “sprouting, pushing forward”) v. 443.

Tasawwuf (mystic fraternity of) v. 426.

Tasht = “basin” (the consonantic outline being the same as of “tashshat”) = she was raining, sprinkling (St.) a possible pun, v. 147.

Tasill sallata’l-Munkatí’ín = lit. “raining on the drouth-hardened earth of the cut-off” (tr. “Watering the dry ground”) i. 345.

Tastaghís (Arab.) = lit. crying out “Wa Ghausáh!”—“Ho to my aid” (tr. “Help! Help!”) v. 157.

Tatadakhkhal ’alay-h = “sue his protection,” vi. 134.

Tauhán al-Husán, tr. “lost in the waste,” v. 409.

Tawáf = Circuiting (an act of worship) iii. 298.

Tawánís (instead of “Tawánis,” pl. of Taunas), tr. “cordage” (St.) v. 133.

Tayhál (pl. “Tawáhil”) for the usual “Tihál” = spleen (St.) v. 53.

Taylasán-hood, iv. 34.

Tays = myriads of, vi. 187.

Tayyibah = the good, sweet or lawful, v. 43.

Tazaghzagha, gen. = he spoke hesitatingly, he scoffed (tr. “waxed wroth”) v. 106.

“Tazaghghara fí-hi” (rendered pop.) “he pitched into him” (St.) v. 106.

Tazarghít (error for “Zaghrítah”) = the cry of joy, v. 429.

—— (numerous forms of) (St.) v. 430.

“Ten camel loads” about a ton, at the smallest computation of 200 lbs. to each beast, v. 395.

Ter-il-bas (Tayr Táús?), a kind of peacock, made to determine elections by alighting on the head of a candidate, v. 26, 27. (Old Translation.)

Teshurah = a gift offered with the object of being admitted to the presence, iii. 100.

Thag, equiv. to our English “Thug,” iii. 374.

—— = simply a “cheat,” but may also mean a robber, assassin, etc. (tr. “Bandits”) iii. 374.

Thaghr al-Khánakán = The narrows of the (Dervishes’) convent, ii. 74.

Thakálah (Arab.) = heaviness, dulness, stupidity (tr. “horseplay”) v. 457.

Thaníyyat al-’Ukáb = the Vulture’s Pass, vi. 181.

“That a standard be borne over his head,” i. 161.

Thayyib (Arab.) = a woman who has known man but once, iv. 333.

“The Astrologers lied,” i. 122.

Theatre (shifting) iii. 429.

The babe to the blanket, and the adultress to the stone, i. 271.

“The chick is unsatisfied till, etc.” a translation which presupposes the reading “Farkhah lá atammat” and would require “hattà” or “ilà” to express “till” (St.) iv. 302.

“The green stick is of the trees of Paradise,” vi. 9.

“The hoard hath gone from me, and I have waxed feeble,” i.e., his strength was in the gold, iv. 347.

“Them” for “her” (often occurrence of) v. 178.

“There is not a present (Teshurah) to bring to the man of God,” iii. 100.

“The reed-pen wrote what ’twas bidden write” = “Destiny so willed it,” vi. 51.

“There is no harm to thee, and boon of health befal thee,” auspicious formula, vi. 174.

The sumptuary laws compelling Jews to wear yellow turbands, i. 286.

The sand appeared in the sunlight like unto ropes (author and Steingass explain) vi. 32.

“The world was turned topsy-turvy,” i.e., there was a great movement and confusion, iv. 262.

Thieves with hands lopped off, ii. 44.

“Thine is ours and on thee shall be whatso is on us” = we will assume thy debts and responsibilities, ii. 247.

Thirst takes precedence of hunger, iii. 320.

This girl is a fat piece of meat (i.e., “There are good pickings to be had out of this job”) ii. 17.

This matter is not far to us = “is not beyond our reach,” v. 311.

“This night” for “last night,” vi. 128.

Thiyáb ’Amúdiyah = striped clothes, ii. 79.

Those noble steps = thine auspicious visits, ii. 82.

Thou comest to bring us victory = “thou comest to our succour,” ii. 201.

Thought reading, iii. 539.

“Thou hast been absent overlong,” a kindly phrase pop. addressed to the returning traveller, v. 444.

“Thou hast done justice” (’adalta), also means “Thou hast swerved from right.” “Thou hast wrought equitably” also = “Thou hast transgressed,” i. 51.

Three Sisters and their Mother, Defects in the Story of, iv. 165

“Three things lack permanency, Wealth without trading, Learning without disputation, Government without justice,” (Sa’di in the Gulistan) iii. 6.

Throwing the kerchief (tarammá al Mahramah) used in the old form of choosing a mate, iv. 31. See iv. 264.

“Thummim” der. from “Tôm” = completeness, iv. 332.

Thursday = pay day for the boys in Egypt, iv. 98.

Thrust his finger up his fundament (a diabolical way of clapping hands in applause) ii. 89.

“Thy commands, O my mother, be upon my head,” iii. 89.

“Thy Highness,” a form of addressing royalty common in Austria, iii. 108.

“Thy rose-hued cheek showeth writ newwrit,” i.e., the growing beard and whisker is compared with black letters on a white ground, v. 148.

Tigris, The (Hid-dekel) iv. 151.

Time, division of, in China and Japan, v. 90.

Tín (Arab.) = clay, mud (used with Tob forming walls of Egypt and Assyria) vi. 24.

“Tirrea Bede” (Night 655) note concerning, v. 119.

’Tis more acceptable to me than a red camel, ii. 248.

Tisht (a basin for the ewer), tr. “tray,” v. 428.

Tither, unable to do evil, i. 245.

TKhDH (=takhuz-hu, according to author); may be either 2nd or 8th form of “ahad” in the sense that “thou comest to an agreement (Ittihád) with him,” v. 189.

TMT, i.e., Tammat = She (the tale) is finished, vi. 38.

Tobáni = unbaked brick, i. 34.

Tobbas = “Successors” or the Himyaritic kings, ii. 263.

Tobe = the Anglo-Oriental form of “Thaub” = in Arabia a loose robe like a night-gown, vi. 139.

“To-day wine, and to-morrow business,” ii. 177.

“To eat skite” = to talk or act foolishly, vi. 70.

Toilette, carrying a portable, iv. 303.

Tohfah = A gift, i. 16.

—— = a choice gift, ii. 79.

Tohfat al-Humaká = Choice Gift of the Fools, ii. 73.

—— al-Kulúb = Choice Gift of the Hearts, ii. 73.

Tohfat al-Sudúr = Choice Gift of the Breasts (i.e., of the hearts) ii. 84–133.

Tomb of the Moslem, iv. 293.

Torture endured through Eastern obstinacy, i. 293.

Towáb Al- (Arab. pl. of Per. and Turk. “Top”) = cannon, vi. 186.

Trafír = trumpets, iii. 137.

“Treasure-trove,” the possession of exposing the owner to torture, iii. 105.

True believer imitates sayings and doings of the Apostle, ii. 173.

Tú bará Thag hai = thou art a precious rascal, iii. 374.

Tuhà = cooked meat, vi. 187.

Tuhál or Tihál (Arab.) in text “Tayhál,” tr. “spleen,” v. 53.

Turayyih (mod. form for “turawwih”) (St.) iv. 301.

Turcoman blood (steed of) iii. 297.

Turkish Tales by Petis de la Croix, iv. 13.

Turkumániyah = Turcomanish (tr. “dragomanish”) ii. 191.

Turquoise stone, held as a talisman in the East, iii. 270.

Turtúr = the Badawi’s bonnet, v. 255.

“Tutmájíyah” for “Tútmáj” = vermicelli, vi. 160.

Tutty, in low Lat. “Tutia” prob. from Pers. “Tutiyah” = protoxide of zinc, v. 352.

Tuzáribí may mean “Dost thou play the part of” (St.) vi. 57.

Twelvemonths, i.e., a long time, i. 319.

“Uaddíki,” Taadiyah (iid. of Adá, he assisted) = sending, forwarding (tr. “Carry”) ii. 77.

’Ubb (Arab.) = bulge between breast and outer robe (tr. “breast pocket”) iii. 317.

’Úd = primarily “wood”; then a “lute” (tr. here “fuel”) ii. 178.

’Úd Khayrázan = wood of the rattan, iv. 317.

’Udúl (pl. of Adil) = men of good repute (tr. “notables”) ii. 25.

Ukiyyah (or Wukiyyah) = ounce = 571·5 to 576 grains, vi. 163.

“Uktuli’s-siráj,” the Persian “Chirághrá bi-kush” = kill the lamp, iii. 84.

Umm Kash’am, a slang name for death, iv. 183.

Ummálí (Arab.); gen. Ummál, an affirmation (tr. “True indeed”) iv. 193.

’Ummár = the Jinn (tr. “Haunters”) ii. 102.

Ummu ’Amrin = mother of ’Amru (slang term for “hyæna”) iv. 183.

Under my ribs = In my heart’s core, i. 339.

Unsa-k (Arab.), an expression used when drinking one’s health (tr. “Thy favour”) (St.) v. 458.

Unth = Camel, iii. 294.

Urím (lights) and Thummim (amulets), iv. 332.

Urinal (old French name for phial in which the patient’s water is sent) i. 285.

’Urkúb, a Jew of Yathrib, ii. 164.

’Urrah (Arab.) = dung, v. 75.

’Urs (Al-) w’al-Tuhúr = “the wedding” (which does not drop out of the tale) and the circumcision, ii. 90.

Usburú = be ye patient, v. 83.

Ushtur or “Unth” = camel, iii. 294.

Veil me = protect my honour, ii. 147.

Veil (raiser of) means a fitting purchaser, ii. 73.

Vellication (in cases of axilla-pile), iv. 153.

“Verily great is their craft” (Koranic quotation from “Joseph”), v. 294.

Viaticum = provision, provaunt for the way, iv. 304.

Vijáyanagara = City of Victory, iii. 422.

Violateth my private apartment, ii. 243.

Violation of the Harem (son “having” his father’s wives), very common in Egypt, v. 441.

Virginity (how proved), iv. 121.

Visions frequent in Al-Islam, iii. 405.

Vocative particles (five in Arabic), i. 85.

Voice (mysterious), ii. 51.

Voices disembodied, iii. 515.

—— from the other world, vi. 227.

Vows of Pious Moslems, v. 234.

Wa adraka Shahrázáda’l-Sabáh = And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of
day (also “was surprised by the dawn”) iv. 6.

Wa’d al-Banât, or burial of Mauúdát (living daughter) iii. 498.

“Wá Ghausáh!” = “Ho, to my aid,” v. 157.

“Wahá,” etc. (Arab.) corresponding with Syriac “ho” = behold! i. 275.

“Wa Hakki man aulání házá ’l-Mulk” = “and by the right of (my duty towards) Him who made me ruler over this kingdom” (St.) iv. 307.

“—— inní la-ar’ákum wa ar’à widádakum,” etc., tr. “And I make much of you and your love, etc.” (St.) v. 172.

—— jasad-hu yuhazdimu = his body was emitting blood freely (St.) iv. 285.

“—— Kita’h hamrah,” tr. “also a bit of cooked meat,” vi. 125.

—— Kulli Tárik = night traveller, magician, morning star, v. 378.

“—— Kuntu ráihah ursil warák” (the regular Fellah language) i. 29.

“—— lákin hú ajmalu etc.” = “and yet he was more beautiful than they, etc.” (St.) iv. 260.

“—— lá ahad tafawwaha fína” = “nor hath anyone ever spoken,” vi. 29.

“—— lá huwa ashamná min-ka talkas” (read “talkash”) ’alà Harimi-ná” tr. “that thou wouldst strive to seduce our Harím” (or “that thou hadst an itching after our Harím”) (St.) v. 285.

“—— lásh: Murádí bas ism al-Madinah” (Arab.) = For nothing: my only want is the city’s name, v. 402.

“—— lau anunahá li ’l-Mushrikín, etc.,” lines which have occurred before, v. 55.

“—— lláhi ’l-Muwaffiku ’l-Mu’ín” = God prospereth and directeth (a formula often prefixed to a book), vi. 196.

“—— min-hum man fáha,” evidently an error of the scribe for “Man nafá-hu,” v. 114.

—— Nikáh = conjugal intercourse, v. 153.

“—— sába’l-dár wa Zaujatu-hu mutawassín bi-há,” tr. “the house prospered for the master and the dame had charge of it,” v. 420.

“Wa sába’l-dár wa Zaujatu-hu mutawassín bi-há,” Steingass explains the plural “Mutawassin,” by supposing “Sáb al-Dár” is blunder for “Sáhihu ’l-Dár” and translates “the master of the house and his wife took charge of her (the nurse) during the days of suckling” (St.) v. 420.

“—— Sawábi ’hu (Asábi ’a-hu?) fí hanaki-h’” tr. “his fingers in his mouth and sucking thereat,” v. 419.

—— Talattuf Alfázak wa ma’áník alhísán = and for the pleasingness of thy sayings and meanings so fine and fain (St.) v. 146.

“—— yabkí ’alaykum Mabálu-h” = suffer only his crime be upon you (Steingass reads “Wabál” for “Mabál,” and translates, “lest the guilt of it rest upon you”) vi. 246.

“—— zand mujauhar fí-hi Asáwir,” etc., may mean “and a forearm (became manifest) ornamented with jewels, on which were bracelets of red gold” (St.) v. 86–7.

“—— zarr-há” for “Wa dazz-há” = besprinkled her (St.) iv. 314.

—— dazzh-á (corruption in MS.) should read “wa wazzar-há” = “and he left her” (St.) iv. 462.

Waddí = Carry, i. 17.

Wadí’ah = deposit (here sig. blows), i. 247.

Wafát = death (decease, departure, as opposed to Maut = death), 223.

“Wáhid min al-Tujjár,” the very vulgar style, iii. 64.

Wahsh = Lion, iii. 18.

Wahwah Al- = the hue of metal leaves, vi. 122.

Waka’h (Arab.) = an affair (of fight) v. 403.

Wakálah = a khan or caravanserai, iv. 38.

—— = an inn (tr. “Caravanserai”), v. 455.

—— (Egyptian term for a Khan) ii. 153.

“——” or caravanserai, v. 273.

Wakhímah = an unhealthy land, ii. 87.

Wakíl (Arab.) = deputy—in marriage, 333;

- lit. = agent (tr. “trustee”) here corresponding with man who gives away the bride, iv. 54.

Wakt al-Zuhá (Arab.) = the division of
time between sunrise and midday (tr. “undurn hour”) iv. 69.

“Wa’l-Sultánu karaa, etc.” = “and the Sovran recited his appointed portion of the Koran, and then sat down to convivial converse” (St.) iv. 244.

Walad al-Hayáh (for “Hayát”) tr. “Thou make him a child of life,” i.e., let him be long-lived, v. 378.

Walásh (Arab.), i.e. “Was lá shayya” = and nihil (tr. “Anaught”) iv. 210.

Walawá’yh? = wa’l-aw’iyah (pl. of wi’á) = and the vessels —— shimmered like unto silver for their cleanliness, (St.) vi. 122.

Wálí = the Civil Governor, iii. 375.

—— at one time a Civil Governor, and in other ages a Master of Police, vi. 67.

Walímah prop. = a marriage feast, iii. 15.

“Waliyah” or “Waliyáh” = and why? vi. 59.

“Walwalah” or “Wilwál” (an onomatopy), general term for the wail, vi. 17.

Warayataní ilà -turáb = thou hast given me over to the ground or concealment (St.) iv. 312.

Wasayah (prob. cler. error for “wa Miah”—spelt “máyah”—and a hundred pair of pigeons) (St.) v. 217.

Washing hands and face—a preparatory washing as a matter of cleanliness preceding the formal Wuzú-ablution, iii. 168.

Water-closet, Eastern goes to, first thing in the morning, i. 13.

—— wedding night in. iii. 115.

Watukarribu ’l’-Abda ilayya (referring the verb to “Al-Sadakah” = the alms) “and in bringeth the servant near to me” (St.) iv. 335.

Waybah = the sixth of an Ardabb (Irdabb) = bushels, v. 128.

Wayha-k (before “Wayla-k”) = “Fie upon thee,” vi. 20.

Wazífah prop. = a task, a stipend, a salary, (here tr. “dutie”) iii. 328.

Wazir expected to know everything in Oriental countries, iii. 163.

Wazíru ’l-’Arif bi-lláhi Ta’álà, Al- = The Wazir-wise-in-Allah-Almighty, iv. 239.

“We are broken to bits (Kisf,) by our own sin,” i. 155.

Weapons and furniture, (i.e., headstalls, hobbles, etc.), for mare saddled and bridled (price for slave) vi. 92.

—— taken from Easterns when embarking as passengers, ticketed and placed in cabin, v. 403.

Wedding, description of, iii. 114.

—— -night in water-closet, iii. 115.

—— night, mothers tell their daughters what to expect, iv. 42.

Week days, vi. 13.

Well, Angels choking up a, v. 332.

——, filled in over the intruding “villain” of the piece, v. 332.

Wept and laughed alternately (nearest approach in East. tales to West. hysterics) iv. 155.

“What hast thou left behind thee, O, Asám”? i.e. What didst thou see? i. 97.

What is behind thee? = What is thy news? i. 44.

“What’s past is past and what is written is written and shall come to pass” (Sir C. Murray’s “Hassan”) iii. 10.

What was his affair? = lit. “How was,” etc., i. 58.

“When Adam dolve and Eve span,” etc., vi. 102.

When Fate descended (i.e. When the fated hour came down from Heaven), i. 62.

Where am I, and where is the daughter, etc.? = “What have I to do with, etc.”, ii. 7.

“Where is the bird?” = “How far is the fowl from thee?” iv. 300.

White hand, i.e. gifts and presents, i. 226.

“White” night, i.e. “pleasant,” “enjoyable,” iv. 285.

“Whose van was not known from its rear” = “both could not be seen at the same time,” v. 189.

“—— weal Allah increase,” well nigh sole equiv. amongst Moslems of our “thank you,” v. 325.

“Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein,” i. 119.

“Whoso journeyeth not enjoyeth not,” ii. 152.

“Whoso keeneth for himself is not like whoso is hired to keen.” Proverb = “If you want a thing done, etc.,” ii. 171.

“Whoso leaveth issue dieth not” (popular saying amongst Moslems) iii. 55.

Wife (exalting the character of) whilst the Mistress is a mere shadow (kind of tale not unfrequent amongst Moslems) v. 335.

“——” used for “Harim,” iv. 28.

Wiják = a stove, a portable hearth (tr. “a brazier”) v. 110.

Wild ass (onager) iii. 282.

—— meat of, iii. 282.

—— (skin of) produces the famous Shagreen, iii. 282.

Will of man, The, a mighty motor power, iii. 426; vi. 126.

Window gardening, an ancient practice in the East, vi. 172.

Windows (first mention of in Arabic MS. of “Alaeddin”) iii. 186.

Wine and Wassail, loose talk, etc., a favourite subject with lewd Moslems, ii. 34.

Wine, carrion and pork lawful to Moslem if used to save life, ii. 176.

Witch, i. 235.

“With the tongue of the case” = words suggested by the circumstance, v. 9.

“With love and gladness,” ii. 137.

Without a vein swelling, i.e., so drunk that his circulation had apparently stopped, v. 276.

Wizzatayn = geese, v. 357.

Woman, fulfilling the desires of, fatal to love, when she revolts against any reduction of it, v. 91.

“Womankind, Allah kill all” (note by Dr. Steingass) v. 304.

Women (Alaeddin used to think all resembled his mother); an absurd statement to the West but true in the East, iii. 97.

—— (all of one and the same taste) i. 96.

“—— are of little wits and lack religion,” i. 31.

—— drousy charms of, ii. 252.

Wonders of the (Moslem) World—four in number, iv. 36.

Wormwood, a regular Badawi remedy, iv. 343.

Wortley Montague MS. quoted, iv. 3, 6, 19, 35, 49, 74, 90, 95, 97, 101, 109.

“Woven air,” local name of the Patna gauzes, iii. 423.

“Writing and reading,” as opposed to our “Reading and writing,” vi. 5.

“Written,” either on the Preserved Tablet or on the Sutures of the Skull, v. 308.

Wuldán = Ghilmán = the boys of Paradise, vi. 128.

Xerafim, Port. for Ashrafi, iv. 38.

Yá omitted (in poetical fashion) to show speaker’s emotion, i. 149.

—— = í and Mím = m, composing the word “Ibrahím,” v. 203.

—— Abá Sábir = O Abu Sabir, i. 85.

—— ’Ars, yá Mu’arras = O pimp, O pander, v. 246.

“—— ’Arzád” prob. cler. slip for “’Urzát” (pl. of ’Urzah) = a companion, a (low) fellow, iv. 191.

“Yabahh” = saying “Bah, Bah!” vi. 253.

—— Bilál = O generosity, i. 40.

“—— Bunayyí” = lit. “O my little son,” a term of special fondness (tr. “O dear, my son”) vi. 7.

Yad (Al-) al-bayzá = lit. The white hand (tr. “largesse”) ii. 123.

Yáfis bin Núh = Japhet, son of Noah, ii. 111.

Yaftah ’Allah = Allah open (to thee the door of subsistence) ii. 44.

Yá Ghárati a-zay má huná Rájil = O, the shame of me! however, O my Lord, can there be here a man? v. 247.

—— Dr. Steingass explains and translates, v. 247.

Yá Hájjah (pron. Hággeh) = O Pilgrimess, i. 198.

Yá Házá (Arab.) = “Ho, this one,” iv. 231.

Yahjubu (Arab.) aor. of “hajaba” = he veiled, put out of sight (St.) iv. 342.

Yahya (according to Scott “Yiah”) v. 153.

Yáhyà, father of Ja’afar, made Wazir by Al-Rashid, i. 166.

“Yá Jad’án” (more gen. “Yá Jad’a” pron. Gad’a) = mon brave, iv. 191.

Yá Kabírí = my good man (tr. “my chief”) i. 12.

Yákah Thiyábish = his robe-collar rent, vi. 247.

Yá Kawáki = O thou brawler, vi. 84.

Yá Khálati = O my mother’s sister (tr. “O naunty mine”) i. 32.

Yakhat (prob. cler. error for “Yakhbut”) lit. = he was panting in a state of unconsciousness, tr. “drowned” in sleep, vi. 244.

Yá Khawand = “O lord and master,” ii. 12.

“Yakhburu ma’a-hu fí ’l-Kalám” lit. = he experimented with him, i.e., he put him to the test (tr. “he spake with him softly”) (St.) iv. 307.

Yaklishu (from ✓ Kulsh) = “kicking” (their heels) iv. 19.

Yá’llah, i.e., “By Allah,” meaning “Be quick!” v. 325.

Yá’llah jári, yá walad = “Be off at once, boy,” i. 9.

“Yállah, Yállah” = By Allah and again by Allah i. 9;

- gen. meaning “Look sharp” (here syn. with “Allah! Allah!” = “I conjure thee by God”) v. 302.

Yá Luss (Arab.) = “O Robber” (=the Gr. λῃστὴς) vi. 56.

Yá Madyúnah = O indebted one, i. 249.

Yamaklak Al- = vivers, provaunt, vi. 180.

Yamak (Turk.) = food, a meal, vi. 180.

Yamámah-land, i. 43.

Yaman Al-, people of, are still deep in the Sotadic Zone and practice, v. 42.

Yámin, copyist’s error for “Yásimín,” tr. gelsamine, iii. 19.

Yá Mu’arras = O fool and disreputable (tr. “O pimp”) ii. 21.

Yá Nakbah = O calamity, i. 24.

Yanjaaru (Arab.) vii. form of “jaara,” in which the idea of “raising” seems to prevail, tr. “mounted,” iv. 311.

Yapousmek (old ver.) = “Yá Abú Sumayk,” vi. 16.

Yar’ad = trembleth (also thundereth) i. 166.

Yá Rájul (for Rajul) = O man (an Egypto-Syrian form) iii. 58.

Yarjú (presumably error for “Yarja’u”) tr. “retracing their steps,” v. 382.

—— (may be error for “Yajrú”) (St.) v. 382.

“Yá Sallám” (Arab.) “O Saviour” addressed to Allah, iv. 63.

“Yá Sín” = “The Heart of the Koran,” v. 94.

“Yaskut min ’Aynay-h” lit. = fall from his two eyes, lose favour (tr. “lose regard with him”) i. 77.

Yasrahú = roaming (tr. “rummaging”) iv. 19

“Yasta’amilúna al-Mrd” (tr. “their noblest make womanly use of Murd” = beardless boys) may also have a number of meanings, v. 42.

Yastanít (Arab.), aor. to the pretext “istanat” (St.) v. 218.

Yastanit = he listened attentively (tr. “he firmly believed”) (St.) v. 432.

Ya Sultán-am = “O my chief,” v. 312.

“——” Pers. or Turk. form for Arab. “Yá Sultán-i” (“O my Sultan”) iv. 214.

Yá Ta’ásat-ná = “O our misery,” vi. 48.

Ya’tadir (dots often omitted in MS.) may mean Ya’tazir = find excuse, vi. 20.

—— (from ✓ ’Adr) = heavy rain, boldness (tr. “fortify himself”) vi. 20.

Yá Ta’ís = “O thou miserable,” vi. 48.

Yatama’ash min-hu, tr. “wherewith he might nourish himself,” v. 472.

—— a denominative of the 5th form of “Ma’ásh” = livelihood (St.) v. 473.

Ya’tamidúna hudà-hum = purpose the right direction (tr. “those who seek their salvation”) ii. 32.

Yatazáwadú (Arab.) = increasing (tr. “contending”) iv. 62.

Ya’tazar = find excuse, vi. 20.

Yatbashsh (for “yanbashsha”) = a smiling face, vi. 138.

—— may also stand for Yabtashsh, with transposition of the “t” of the 8th form (St.) vi. 138.

Yathrib = Al-Madinah, v. 183.

—— the classical name (Ἰατρίππα)

(one of the titles of “Madínat al-Nabi,” City of the Prophet) v. 43.

Ya Tinjír (Arab.) lit. = O Kettle (tr. “O Miserable”) iv. 71.

Yauh! (Arab.) = “Alack!” iv. 191.

Yaum al-Ahad = First day (which begins the Moslem week) iv. 341.

—— al-Jum’ah (Arab.)—Assembly-day, Friday, iv. 342.

—— al-Khamís (Arab.) = fifth day, vi. 13.

—— al-Mahshar = lit. the day of Assembly (tr. Judgment Day) iii. 21.

—— al-Subú’ = 7th day, iv. 122.

Yá walad al-Halál = O thou true-born son (or “O! Son of lawful wedlock,”) (St.) iv. 267.

Yá Wárid = “O farer to the fountain,” v. 148.

Yá Zínat al-Nisá = O adornment of woman-kind, ii. 207.

Yá zayn = oh, the beautiful beast! vi. 149.

Yazghaz-há fí Shikkati-ha = verb being prob. a cler. error for “Yazaghzahg” from ✓ “Zaghzagha” = he opened a skin bag (tr. “thrusting and foining at her cleft”) v. 267.

“Ye are quit of,” etc. = You are welcome to it and so it becomes lawful (halál) to you, ii. 161.

Young, a man is, in Arab speech, till forty or fifty, iv. 119.

—— man, being grown up, would not live in his father’s house, v. 442.

Youth worn out by genial labours of the (marriage) night, but bride made the merrier and livelier (a neat touch of realism), v. 429.

Yufaghghiru = he opened his mouth wide (St.) iv. 265.

Yughaffiru (probably for yu’ aftíru) = raising a dust cloud (St.) iv. 265.

—— wa yuzaghdimu = raising a dust-cloud and trumpeting with rage, iv. 265.

Yulakkimu (Arab.) from “Lukmah” = a mouthful, vi. 75.

“Yumázasa-hu fí ’l-Kalám,” evidently a clerical error for “Yumárasa-hu,” = he tested or tried him in speech (St.) iv. 307.

Yumkinshayy = “Is it possible,” iv. 232

Yúnus = Ibn Habíb, a friend of Isaac of Mosul, ii. 71.

Yuzaghdimu, a quadriliteral formed by blending two triliterals in one verb, to intensify the idea (St.) iv. 265.

Yúzbáshí, in text “Uzbáshá” or “úzbáshá” = head of a hundred (men), centurion, captain, v. 243.

Za’amú = they opine, they declare (tr. “They set forth”) i. 50; ii. 55.

Zabh (Zbh) (Arab. ✓) = the ceremonial killing of animals for food, iv. 32.

Zabídún (here probably a clerical error for Zabíd, Cap. of Tahámah) ii. 193.

Zábit = a Prefect of Police, vi. 154.

—— (from the ✓ “Zabt” = keeping in subjection, holding tight) tr. “Holdfast,” vi. 154.

Zabtiyah = a constable, vi. 154.

“Zad Yakún Z R H ahad fí Mál jazíl, etc.” (error in MS. explained) (St.) v. 72.

Zadig (Tale of) iv. 7.

Zafáir al-Jinn = Adiantum Capillus veneris, ii. 95.

Zafar = victory (clerical error for Zafar = plaited hair) vi. 104.

Zaghárit (pl. of Zaghrútah) = loud lullilooing, iv. 267.

Zahab-ramlí = placer-gold, iii. 15.

Zahr (Arab.) lit. and generically a blossom (tr. “orange flower”) iv. 52.

—— Al- = duty, vi. 162.

—— al-Bahr = the surface which affords a passage to man, iv. 125.

Zahrat = a blossom especially yellow, commonly applied to orange-flower, v. 201.

—— al-Hayy, i.e., “Bloom of the Tribe,” v. 201.

Za’íf = impotent, i. 217.

“Zakarayn Wizz (ganders) simán,” tr. “a pair of fatted ganders,” v. 357.

Zakát = legal alms (tr. “poor-rates”) iv. 338.

Zakát wa Sadakát = lit. paying of poor rate and purifying thy property by alms deeds (tr. “goodness and beneficence and charity and almsdoing”) i. 346.

Zakka (meaning primarily “a bird feeding her young”) tr. “largessed,” v. 182.

Zalábiyah = a pancake, i. 33.

Zalamah (Al-) = the policeman (tr. “men of violence”) ii. 52.

Zalamah (Arab.) = tyrants, vi. 73.

Zalm = the dewlap of sheep or goat, iii. 19.

Zamaku-há, tr. “arabesque’d,” v. 133.

Zamán, Al- (tr. “A delay”) prob. an error for “Yá al-Malik al-Zamán” = “O King of the Age,” (St.) iv. 319.

Zangi-i-Adam-kh’wár (tr. Ethiopian) afterwards called Habashi = an Abyssinian, iii. 276.

Zanzibár = Blackland, iii. 281.

Záraba (verb) 3rd form followed by acc. = “to join one in partnership” (St.) vi. 57.

Zarábíl (comm. cor. of Zarábin = slaves’ shoes, slippers) vi. 48.

Zarb al-Aklám = caligraphy, v. 376.

—— —— tr. “penmanship,” v. 432.

—— al Fál = casting lots for presage (tr. “prognostic”) v. 374.

—— Raml (Geomancy) iii. 4.

Zarbúl táki (Arab.) the latter meaning “high-heeled,” vi. 53.

Zard-i-Kháyah (Pers.) = yoke of egg, iv. 56.

Zardakát (for “Zardakhán”) = silken napkins, iv. 55.

“Zardiyá” (for Zaradiyyah = a small mail coat, a light helmet), tr. “a haubergeon,” v. 58.

Zawádah (gen. “Azwád” or “Azwidah”) = provisions, viaticum, vi. 181.

Zayjah (from (Pers.) “Záycheh”) = lit. a horoscope (tr. “lot”) vi. 235.

Zayn al-Asnam, object of the tale, iii. 38.

—— —— (Turkish) version by Mr. Gibb (note) iii. 41.

—— —— old ver. “Ornament” (adornment?) of the Statues, iii. 3.

—— (al-Dín = Adornment of the Faith and owner of) al-Asnám = the Images, iii. 3.

Zifr = nail, claw, talon, iv. 245.

—— = horny matter which, according to Moslem tradition, covered our first parents, vi. 104.

Zij = table of the stars—almanack, iii. 159.

Zill (Arab.) lit. = “Shadow me” (tr. “solace me”) iv. 58.

Zimmat = obligation, protection, clientship (tr. “loyalty”) vi. 245.

Zindík = Atheist, Agnostic, vi. 158.

Zird-Khánah = armoury, i. 327.

Zirtah = fart, ii. 56.

Znnákt-ha, tr. “(striketh) her sting” (?) vi. 35.

Zor-Khán = Lord Violence, i. 94.

Zubayah’s tomb, i. 15.

“Zug” or draught which gave him rheumatism (tr. “the air smote me”) v. 157.

Zuhà Al- (=undurn-hour, or before noon) and Maghrib (=set of sun) become Al-Ghaylah (=Siesta time) and Ghaybat al-Shams, in Badawi speech, v. 151.

Zur ghibban, tazid hibban = visits rare keep friendship fair, ii. 209.

Zúshád (a fancy name) “Zawash” in Persian = Ζεὺς, i. 89.

Zuwaylah Gate, ii. 8.

Appendix III.
NOTES ON THE STORIES CONTAINED IN VOL. VI. OF SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS.

By W. F. KIRBY.

THE SAY OF HAYKAR THE SAGE (pp. 1–38).

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.

Pp. 29–32.—Two classes of subterfuges similar to those employed by Haykar are common in folk-tales. In one, the hero vanquishes, and generally destroys his adversary (usually a giant), by imposing on his credulity, like Jack when he hid himself in a corner of the room, and left a faggot in his bed for the giant to belabour, and afterwards killed the giant by pretending to rip himself up, and defying the other to do the same. In other cases, the hero foils his opponents by subterfuges which are admitted to be just, but which are not intended actually to deceive, as in the devices by which the blind Shaykh instructs the merchant to baffle the sharpers, in one of the Sindibad stories (vol. vi., pp. 202–212, No. 135x., of our Table). In the present story Pharaoh was baffled by the superior cunning of Haykar, but it is not made quite clear whether he actually believed in his power to build a castle in the air or not. However the story probably belongs to the second class.

P. 32.—Twisting ropes out of sand was a device by which Michael Scot baffled a devil for whom he had to find constant employment. (Cf. Scott’s “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” and notes).

THE HISTORY OF AL-BUNDUKANI (pp. 39–85).

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

P. 44. In some versions of this story Harun’s abstention from his bride for a year is attributed to a previous vow.

P. 60 and note 1.—This passage, relative to the character of the Caliph may be compared with his forgetfulness respecting Nur Al-Din Ali and Anis Al-Jalis. (Vol. ii., p. 42, and note).

THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA, AND THE KING’S SON (pp. 87–111).

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.

P. 99.—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. 99, note 3.—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. 104, note 3.—Those interested in the question of the succession of the Patriarchs may refer to Joseph Jacobs’ article on “Junior-right in Genesis,”[431] 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. 108, note 1—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).)

THE TALE OF THE WARLOCK AND THE YOUNG COOK OF BAGHDAD (pp. 119–142.)

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 Buhúr. She is the queen of Ginnistan, and the daughter of KokopiIesobe (Satan), whose contests with Mahomet and Michael (the former of whom continues the conflict by “becoming man”) are described on the approved Miltonic lines. Her chief councillors are Bahlisboull (Beelzebub) and Asmonchar (Asmodeus), but ultimately she falls in love with Simoustapha, and adjures her sovereignty, after which he carries her off, and marries her, upon which the mother of Ilsetilsone, “the sensible Zobeide formed now a much truer and more favourable judgment of her daughter’s happiness, since she had shared the heart of Simoustapha with Setelpedour, and at last agreed that the union of one man with two women might be productive of great happiness to all the three, provided that one of the wives happened to be a fairy.” (Weber, ii. p. 50.) A most encouraging sentiment for would-be polygamists, truly, especially in Europe, where fairies appear to fly before the advance of civilisation as surely as the wild beasts of the forest!

P. 126.—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 Rosetti introduces him into his fine poem, “Rose Mary,” as preparing the way for the visions seen in the beryl:

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

P. 132, note.—Apropos of the importance of “three days,” I may refer to the “three days and three nights” which Christ is commonly said to have passed in the tomb, and I believe that some mystics assert that three days is the usual period required by a man to recover consciousness after death.

Pp. 134, 135.—These worked lions recall the exhibition of power, made by Abu Mohammed hight Lazybones (No. 37; Nights iv., p. 165). Their Oriental prototypes are probably the lions and eagles with which the Jinn ornamented the throne of Solomon. In the West, we meet with Southey’s amusing legend of the Pious Painter:

“‘Help, help, Blessed Mary,’ he cried in alarm,

As the scaffold sunk under his feet;

From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm;

She caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;

There were hundreds who saw in the street.”

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

Pp. 135, 136.—Stories of changed sex are not uncommon in Eastern and classical mythology and folk-lore; usually, as in this instance, the change of a man into a woman, although it is the converse (apparent, of course) which we meet with occasionally in modern medical books.

In the Nights, &c., we have the story of the Enchanted Spring (No. 135j) in the great Sindibad cyclus (Nights, vi., pp. 145–150), and Lane (Modern Egyptians, chap. xxv.) relates a story which he heard in Cairo more resembling that of the transformed Wazir. In classical legend we have the stories of Tiresias, 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.

HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL-LET WITH THE FOWLER (pp. 151–164).

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 waternymph) who threw herself in his way to be his life-companion, but that owing to his folly in proposing to eat her, he has now lost her for ever. Hereupon she disappears, and all his efforts to rediscover her are fruitless.

THE TALE OF ATTAF (pp. 165–222).

P. 178, 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, Night iii., pp. 223–242), and is drawn on exactly similar lines (Weber, i. pp. 508–510).

HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB, AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH THE LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS. (pp. 223–261).

P. 256, note 1.—Epithets of colour, as applied to seas, frequently have a purely mythological application in Eastern tales. Thus, in the story of Zaher and Ali (cf. my “New Arabian Nights,” p. 13) we read, “You are now upon an island of the Black Sea, which encompasses all other seas, and flows within Mount Kaf. According to the reports of travellers, it is a ten years’ voyage before you arrive at the Blue Sea, and it takes full ten years to traverse this again to reach the Green Sea, after which there is another ten years’ voyage before you can reach the Greek Sea, which extends to inhabited countries and islands.”

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

P. 261.—According to one account of impalement which I have seen, the stake is driven through the flesh of the back beneath the skin.

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

Appendix IV.
ADDITIONAL NOTES ON THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS.

(Cf. Nights, x., App. ii., pp. 465–532).

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. Owing to the occasional missing of a proof, some misprints escaped correction in my former article, and these I will place first, along with the correction of other slight errors. Tales and more important notes will follow under the same headings as before.

Errata, &c., in Vol. X.

P. 470, l. 21, for “even has” read “has even,” l. 3 from bottom, for “Chelih” read “Chebib.”

P. 474, ll. 6 and 5 from bottom, for “taken from Dow’s Persian Tales of Inatulla,” read “taken from the latter part of that of Prince Fadlallah (1001 Days, cf. our p. 500, No. 4a; or from No. 251j of our Table).”

P. 491, l. 14 from bottom, after “frontispieces” add “and an Appendix including a table of the tales contained in the MS.”

P. 492, l. 35, for “3c” read “3e.”

P. 495, l. 14 from bottom, for “Burton iii.” read “Burton ii.”

P. 497, l. 5, for “Xailonn” read “Xailoun,” l. 22, for “Mr. W. R. Clouston” read “Mr. W. A. Clouston,” l. 11 from bottom, for “Kasiwirski” read “Kasimirski.”

P. 500, l. 6 for “Dilora” read “Dilara,” l. 8 (No 4a), add “ = Nos. 184 and 251,” l. 16 (No. 5e.) add “cf. Nos. 135q and 225,” l. 22 (No. 8), add “ = No. 181r.”

P. 501, l. 1, after “ants” add “Weber (ii. p. 426) has substituted wild beasts!”

P. 506, l. 16, for “160” read “140.”

P. 508. l. 8, for “Zeloudvit” read “Zelouide et,” l. 19, for “Rose-Tree” read “Nose-Tree,” l. 13 from bottom, for “Little Fairy” read “Little Fairly.”

P. 511, l. 22, for “Nouronnihar” read “Nouronihar,” l. 8 from bottom, for “Mahommedans” read “Mohammedans,” l. 5–3 from bottom, read “3, The Count of Hamilton’s Fairy Tales. Written shortly after the first publication of Galland’s work. There is an English translation among Bohn’s Extra Volumes.”

P. 513, l. 24 from bottom, read “My, you ought to seen old Henry the Eight,” l. 21 from bottom, for “Nell Gwynne” read “Nell Gwynn,” l. 13 from bottom, for “corn” read “ourn.”

P. 519, No. 100, omit “?” in columns 10 and 15, substituting blanks.

P. 532, is of course Sir R. F. Burton’s, and not mine.

GALLAND’S MS. AND TRANSLATIONS (pp. 465–470).

P. 468, l. 4 from bottom, Destains’ “Mille et une Nuits,” should be noticed on p. 472, after l. 2. The full title is as follows:—

Les Mille et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, Traduits en François par Galland, Nouvelle édition revue sur les textes orientaux et augmentée de plusieurs nouvelles et contes traduites des langues orientaux, par M. Destains, précédée d’un notice historique sur Galland par M. Charles Nodier. Paris, 1822.

This edition is in 6 vols. 8vo, and proves to be of no special interest. The first 5 vols. contain the ordinary version of Galland, and the 6th vol. contains a selection of tales translated from Scott’s vol. 6, eked out with Chavis and Cazotte’s Story of Habib. (No. 250 of our Table).

ZOTENBERG’S WORK ON ALADDIN AND ON VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS OF THE NIGHTS.

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

Histoire d’ ‘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, p., 70.

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.[432]

M. Zotenberg begins with general remarks, and passes on to discuss Galland’s edition (section 1). Although Galland frequently speaks of Oriental tales[433] in his journal, kept at Constantinople in 1672 and 1673, yet as he informs us, in his Dedication to the Marquise d’ O., he only succeeded in obtaining from Syria a portion of the MS. of the Nights themselves with considerable difficulty after his return to France.

There is some doubt as to the date of appearance of the first 6 vols. of Galland’s “Mille et une Nuit.” According to Caussin de Perceval, vols. 1 and 2 were published together in 1704, and vols. 3 and 4 in the course of the same year. Nevertheless, in the copy in the 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.

M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of Galland’s MS. (cf. Nights, x. App. p. 465), 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.

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.

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, “Évidemment, Galland, pour la traduction du commencement du récit, 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.

Section II.—At the beginning of the 17th century, only two MS. of the Nights existed in 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 Hámán, the Persian; Story of the Two Old Men, and of Báz al-Aschháb 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:[434] anecdotes and apothegms; a portion of the Kalila and Dimna?

The Turkish MS. (in 11 vols.) is made up of several imperfect copies, which have been improperly put together. The bulk is formed by vols. 2–10 which are written in three different hands, and some of which bear date 1046 A.H. The contents of these nine vols. are as follows: Introduction and 1–3, (wanting 2ab); Story of ’Abdallah of Basra; 5; Story of ’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 little) and Schams al-Qosour; Story of the Young Man of Baghdad and the Bathman (Baigneur, attendant in a Hammám), 7; 153, 21; Story of Khaledjan ibn Maháni; Story of سنمنح and غوثان (or غوثبان); Story of Nour al-Din ‘Ali and of Dounya (or Dinar) of Damascus, 133; Story of Prince Qamar-Khan and of the schaikh ’Ata, 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 other volumes (1 and 11 of the MS.) both contain the beginning of the MS. Vol. 1 was written towards the end of the 17th century, and extends about as far 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 shew 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.

M. Zotenberg then remarks on the missing vol. 4 of Galland, and quotes extracts from Galland’s Diary, shewing 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. “Comme la plupart de ces contes, ils sont tirés de l’ouvrage turc intitulé الفرج بعد الشدة, dont ils forment le 6e, le 8e et le 9e récit.” (Zotenberg, p. 27.)

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

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

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

[Section IV.]—M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of one or two very important MSS. of the Nights in the 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 كبيكج (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.”

This MS. was copied at Paris 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.

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

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

The two last MSS. contain nearly the same tales, though with numerous variations. M. Zotenberg discusses the hypothesis of Chavis’ MS. being a translation from the French, and definitely rejects it.

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

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

I. Galland’s MS. in the 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. 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. Dr. Clarke’s MS. (cf. Nights, x., App. pp. 502–506).

XXV. Caussin de Perceval’s MS

XXVI. Sir W. Ouseley’s MSS.

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

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

There is a MS. in the 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.

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

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

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

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

STORY OF THE THREE PRINCES AND THE GENIUS MORHAGIAN AND HIS DAUGHTERS.

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

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

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

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

The third prince, who was named Badialzaman (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.

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 again. 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, Badialzaman 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.)

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

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

Two women sent by the youngest princess each took a piece of the body of the prince, and brought it to their mistress, who put them together, reunited them, and restored life to the prince by applying water [of life?] to the wounds. She then asked the prince where he came from, and it seemed to him that he had just awakened from sleep; and she then recalled everything to his recollection. But this did not weaken his firm resolve to kill the genius. The fairy begged him to eat, but he refused; and she then urged that Morhagian was her father, and that he could only be killed by his own sword, which the prince could not obtain.[435] “You may say what you please,” answered the prince; “but there is no help for it, and he must die by my hand [to atone for the wrongs which my brothers and I have suffered from him].”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The princes were obliged to agree that the Sultan should settle their dispute. When the third fairy had been drawn out of the well, the three fairies endeavoured to persuade the two princes to draw up their youngest brother, but they refused, and compelled them to follow them. While they carried off the youngest princess, the other two asked leave to say adieu to prince Badialzaman. They cried out from the top of the well, “Prince, have patience till Friday, when you will see six bulls pass by—three red ones and three black ones. Mount upon one of the red ones and he will bring you up to the earth, but take good care not to mount upon a black one, for he would carry you down to the Seventh Earth.”[436]

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

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

The prince mounted on the back of the Rokh, the Rokh stamped with his foot, and the earth opened before them wherever he turned. They reached the bottom of the well when the Rokh turned his head, but there was no more meat left, so the prince cut off the calf of his leg, and give 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.

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

The wedding day arrived, and they threw the jaríd,[437] [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,[438] 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].

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.”

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

CAZOTTE’S CONTINUATION, AND THE COMPOSITE EDITIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS (pp. 470–475).

P. 475.—There is a small Dutch work, the title of which is as follows:

Oostersche Vertellingen, uit de Duizend-en-een-Nacht: Naar de Hoogduitsche Bewerking van M. Claudius,[439] voor de Nederlandsche Jeugduiitgegeven door J. J. A. Gouverneur. Te Groningen, bij B. Wolters (n.d. 8vo.), pp. 281, col. front. (illustrating No. 170).

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

Derived from at least four different sources.

TRANSLATIONS OF THE PRINTED TEXTS (pp. 495–496).

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

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

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

Vol I. (1886), Frontispiece (Portrait of Lady Burton), Preface, Translator’s Foreword, Introduction, 1–9 (pp. xxiii. 476).

Vol. II. (1886), Frontispiece (Portrait of Sir Richard F. Burton), 9 (continued), 9a–29 (pp. ii. 526).

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

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

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

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

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

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

The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:

Vol. I. (1886) Translator’s Foreword, 170–181bb (pp. xi. 370).

Vol. II. (1886) 182–189. Appendix: Variants and analogues of some of the tales in vols. i. and ii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston (pp. ix. 392).

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

Vol. III. (1887) Foreword, 191–198. Appendix: Variants and Analogues of the Tales in the Supplemental Nights, vol. iii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston (pp. xvi. 661).

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

Vol. IV. (1887) The Translator’s Foreword, 203–209; App. A. Ineptiæ Bodleianæ; App. B. The three untranslated tales in Mr. E. J. W. Gibb’s “Forty Vezirs” (pp. xv., 381).

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 (pp. viii. 515).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

App. i. Index to the Tales and Proper Names; ii. Alphabetical Table of the Notes (Anthropological, &c.); iii. Notes on the Stories contained in vol. vi. of Supplementary Nights, by W. F. Kirby; iv. Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand and One Nights, by W. F. Kirby (pp. 201, 384.); 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. 470, 471).

COLLECTIONS OF SELECTED TALES (pp. 496–497.)

“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.

“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.)

IMITATIONS AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS HAVING MORE OR LESS CONNECTION WITH THE NIGHTS. (Pp. 507–513.) B. ENGLISH (pp. 512, 513.)

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

I have not seen this little book.

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

Includes some genuine Oriental tales, such as a version of that of Básim the Smith.

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

Noticed by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 573.

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

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

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

I.

Hassan Abdallah, or the Enchanted Keys.

Story of Hassan.

Story of the Basket Maker.

Story of 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. pp. 474, 475).

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.

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

Four clever satires (social and political) as follows:

1.

Alley Baber and Son, a Mock Exchange Story.

2.

Ned Redding and the Beautiful Persian.

3.

The Ride of Captain Alf Rashit to Ke-Vere-Street.

4.

Mr. O’Laddin and the Wonderful Lamp.

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

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

SEPARATE EDITIONS OF SINGLE OR COMPOSITE TALES (pp. 497–499).

P. 498, line 12.—No. 184 was published under the title of “Woman’s Wit” in the “Literary Souvenir” for 1831, pp. 217–237, derived from Langlés’ version (Mr. L. C. Smithers in litt.).

TRANSLATION OF COGNATE ORIENTAL ROMANCES ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE NIGHTS (pp. 499–502).

P. 499, No. 1, Les Mille et un Jours.

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

P. 501, No. 5. Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura recueillis et traduits par J. Rivière. 12mo. Paris: Leroux. 1882.

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

Thadhillala. A brief abstract of No. 151.

Les deux Frères. A variant of Herodotus’ Story of Rhampsinitus.

L’homme de bien et le méchant. A variant of No. 262; or Schiller’s Fridolin.

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

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

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

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

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

Jésus-Christ et la femme infidèle. (=261 b.; cf. Nights x., p. 473.)

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

L’idiot et le coucou (=No. 206a.)

Moh’amed ben Soltan. This is one of the class of stories known to folklorists 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 trois Frères. Here a Ghúl is killed by a single blow from a magic dagger, which must not be repeated. (Cf. antea, p. 365; and 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 “Contes 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 Ketkhoda called “Sobailee.” Translated from the 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.

“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.)

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

This book contains 12 orally collected tales of such great importance from a folk-lore point of view that I have given full abstracts of all. They are designed to illustrate the spoken Egyptian dialect, and are printed in Roman character, with translation and glossary. The hero of nearly all the tales is called “Mohammed l’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.

I. Histoire de Mohammed l’Avisé.

Contains the essential features of Cazotte’s story of the Maugraby, (cf. Nights, x., p. 471) 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.

II. Histoire de l’Ours de Cuisine.

This begins as a swan-maiden story.[440] 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.[441] The Ghúleh tells him she cannot help him, but he must wait for her son Abderrahym. 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,[442] which the slave begs him not to kill, as it is his life. He watches it till it enters a hole, and as soon as the slave is asleep, he kills it, and the slave dies. Then he lays hands on the talismans, rushes into the room where the inhabitants of the castle are condoling with the king and queen on the loss of their three children, and draws the sword, saying “Strike right and left, and spare neither great nor small.” Having slain all in the castle, Mohammed removes it to his father’s palace, when his father orders the cannons to be fired. Then Mohammed tells his father his history, compels the queen to restore the eyes of the forty women, when they become prettier than before, and then gives her the flask containing her life. But she drops it in her fright, and her life ends, and the king places Mohammed on the throne.

III. Histoire de la Dame des Arabes Jasmin.

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

IV. Histoire du Pécheur et de son Fils.

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

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

V. Histoire de 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 Ghúl 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 Ghúl; 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.[443] 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 Ghulah, and she was banished to the kitchen, where she pealed 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 Sea of Emerald, who would have beaten her, but the Jinn surrounded her, and prevented them. Then the King of the Sea of Emerald ordered her to be taken, bound into the bath, saying that he would follow in the form of a serpent, and devour her. But she recognised him by his green eyes, when he became a man, ordered her to be restored to her father, and afterwards married her. He gave forty camel loads of emeralds and jacinths as her dowry, and always visited her by night in the form of a winged serpent, entering and leaving by the window.

VI. Histoire de la fille vertueuse.

A merchant and his wife set out to the Hejaz with their son, leaving their daughter to keep house, and commending her to the protection of the Kazi. The Kazi fell in love with the girl, but as she would not admit him, he employed an old woman to entice her to the bath; but the girl threw soap in his eyes, pushed him down and broke his head, and escaped to her own house, carrying off his clothes. When the Kazi was well enough to get about again he found that she had had the door of her house walled up until the return of her friends, so he wrote a slanderous letter to her father, who sent her brother to kill her, and bring him a bottle of her blood. But her brother, although he thought the walling up of the door was a mere pretence, 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 her three 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.

VII. Histoire du prince qui apprit un métier.

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 years more, and this time he answered, “We will use them to repair the water-wheels and my father’s palaces, and we will sow and reap.” “Now you are big,” said she, and gave him the treasures, which he used to erect buildings in his father’s country. Soon afterwards, an old woman persuaded the youth to marry her daughter; but she herself went into the mountains, collected eggs of the bird Oumbar, which make virgins pregnant if they eat them, and gave them to the sister. The old woman reported the result to the king, who visited his sister to satisfy himself of the truth of the matter, and then left her, but sent her food by a slave. When the sister’s time came, four angels descended from heaven, and took her daughter, bringing the child to her mother to be nursed. The mother died of grief, and the angels washed and shrouded her and wept over her; and when the king heard it, he opened the door, and the angels flew away to heaven with the child. The king ordered a tomb to be built in the palace for his sister, and was so much grieved at her death that he went on pilgrimage. When he had been gone some time, and the time of his return approached, the old woman opened the sister’s tomb, intending to throw her body to the dogs to devour, and to put the carcase of a sheep in its place. The angels put the child in the tomb, and she reproached and threatened the old woman; who, however, seized upon her and dyed her black, pretending that she was a little black slave whom she had bought. When the king returned, he pitied her, and called her to sit by him, but she asked for a candle and candlestick to hold in her hand before all the company. Then she told her mother’s story, saying to the candle at every word, “Gutter for kings; this is my uncle, the chief of kings.” Then the candle threw mahboubs on her uncle’s knees. When the story was ended the king ordered proclamation to be made, “Let whosoever loves the Prophet and the Elect, bring wood and fire.” The people obeyed, and the old woman and her daughter were burned.

VIII. Histoire du Prince Amoureux.

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

IX. Histoire du musicien ambulant et de son fils.

This travelling musician was so poor that when his wife was confined, he went out to beg for their immediate necessities, and found a hen lying on the ground with an egg under her. He met a Jew to whom he sold the egg for twenty mabboubs. The hen laid an egg every day, which the Jew bought for twenty mabboubs, and the musician became rich and opened a merchant’s shop. When his son was grown, he built a school for him at his own expense, where poor children were taught to read. Then the musician set out on pilgrimage, charging his wife not to let the Jew trick her out of the hen. A fortnight afterwards, the Jew called, and persuaded the woman to sell him the hen for a casket of silver. He ordered her to cook it, but told her that if anybody else ate a piece, he would rip him up. The musician’s son came in, while the fowl was cooking, and as his mother would not give him any, he seized the gizzard, and ate it, when one of the slaves warned him to fly before the arrival of the Jew. The Jew pursued the boy, and would have killed him, but the latter took him up with one hand, and dashed him to pieces on the ground. The musician’s son continued his journey, and arrived at a town where thirty-nine heads of suitors who had failed to conquer the princess in wrestling, were suspended at the gate of the palace. On the first day the youth wrestled with the princess for two hours without either being able to overcome the other; but during the night the king ordered the doctors to drug the successful suitor, and to steal the talisman. Next morning when the youth awoke, he perceived his weakness, and fled. Presently he met three men quarrelling over a flying carpet, a food-producing cup, and a money mill. He threw a stone for them to run after, and transported himself to Mount Kaf, where he made trial of the other talismans. Then he returned to the palace, called to the princess to come down to wrestle with him, and as soon as she stepped on the carpet, carried her away to Mount Kaf, when she promised to restore the gizzard, and to marry him. She deserted him, and he found two date-trees, one bearing red and the other yellow dates. On eating a yellow date, a horn grew from his head[444] and twisted round the two date-trees. A red date removed it. He filled his pockets, and travelled night and day for two months.[445] He cried dates out of season, and the princess bought sixteen yellow ones, and ate them all; and eight [sixteen?] horns grew from her head, four to each wall. They could not be sawn off, and the king offered his daughter to whoever could remove them. When the musician’s son married the princess, and became wazir, he said to his bride, “Where is my carpet, &c.” She replied, “Is it you?” “Yes,” said he, “Is my trick or yours the best?” She admitted that she was beaten, and they lived together in harmony.

X. Histoire du rossignol chanteur.

(This story is briefly given by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights iii., p. 123; but I give here a fuller abstract.)

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.

XI. Histoire d’Arab-Zandyq.

This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii. pp. 619–624, and need not be repeated here.

XII. Histoire du prince et de son cheval.

A prince and foal were born at the same time, and some time afterwards the mother and the mare died. The king married again, and the new queen had an intrigue with a Jew. They plotted to poison the prince, but his horse wept and warned him. Then the queen pretended to be ill, and asked for the heart of the horse, but the prince fled to another kingdom, and bought clothes from a poor man, packing his own on his horse. Then he parted from the horse, who gave him a hair and a flint, telling him to light the hair whenever 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[446] bear. The king’s six sons-in-law were ordered to seek it, and Mohammed too set forth mounted on a lame mare, while the people jeered him. Presently he summoned his own horse, and ordered him to pitch a camp of which the beginning and the end could not be seen, and which should contain nothing but bears. When the six sons-in-law passed, they dismounted, and asked the attendants for what they required, but they referred them to their king. The latter offered them what they asked, but branded a ring and a circle on the back of each of the sons-in-law. However, he gave them only the milk and hide of old she-bears, while he himself took the milk of a virgin[446] bear that had just cubbed for the first time, slaughtered it, put the milk into the skin, and then remounted his lame mare, saying to the horse, “God reward you.” He returned to town, and gave the milk to his wife who took it to her mother. Then the six sons-in-law brought the milk to the doctors, but when they looked at it, they said, “This is the milk of an old she-bear and is good for nothing.” Then they gave the king the other milk, and cured him, but he was much annoyed to hear who had brought it. Soon afterwards a war broke out, and the king pitched his camp outside the town in face of the enemy. Mohammed set out again on his lame mare, the people shouting after him, “Go back, sir, for the soldiers have been defeated.” Then he summoned his horse, put on his own clothes, and said to the horse, “Let your hair shoot forth fire.” Then he came before the king, saying, “I declare for you and your six sons-in-law.” He rushed into battle, smiting with his sword, while his horse shot forth fire. They slew a third of the enemy, and then disappeared, while the king lamented, “Ah, if my six sons-in-law had only done this!” After his exertions Mohammed was tired, and went home to sleep. Next day the same thing happened, but the king put his own ring on his finger. On the third day he slew the remaining third of his enemies, but his arm was wounded, and the king bound it up with his own handkerchief before he departed. The king gathered together the horses and the spoil, and returned to town, much vexed that his sons-in-law had done nothing. Then the youngest princess asked her mother to send for her father to look at the ring and the handkerchief, when he fell down and kissed the feet of Mohammed, who rose up giddy from sleep, but when he was asked his history, he answered, “I am a prince like yourself, and your six sons-in-law are mamelouks of my father. I beat them, and they took to flight, and through fear of my father, I set out in search of them. I came here and found that they were your sons-in-law, but I imposed silence on them. But as regards your daughter, she saw me in the garden, and recognised my real rank; here is your daughter, O king; she is still a virgin.” Then the wedding was celebrated with great pomp, and Mohammed remained with his father-in-law for some time, until he desired to return to his own country. On his arrival he found that his father had died, so he ascended the throne, and ordered his mother-in-law and the Jew to be burned.

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

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

ADDITIONAL NOTE TO VOL. V. pp. 442–444.

Compare Boccaccio’s story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 10.)

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.]

TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON.
The Thousand Nights and a Night.

Athwart the welkin slant the snows and pile
On sill and balcony; their feathery feet
Trip o’er the landscape, and pursuing sleet,

Earth’s brow beglooming, robs the skies of smile:

Lies in her mourning-shroud our Northern Isle,

And bitter winds in battle o’er her meet.

Her world is death-like, when behold! we greet

Light-gleams from morning-land in welcome while.

A light of golden mine and orient pearl—

Vistas of fairy-land, where Beauty reigns

And Valiance revels; cloudless moon, fierce sun,

The wold, the palm-tree; cities; hosts; a whirl

Of life in tents and palaces and fanes:

The light that streams from Thousand Nights and One.

Isabel Burton.

Tangier, Marocco: Feb. 19, 1886.

THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK
AND
ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED.

PRELIMINARY.

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

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

It is not only an instinct of human nature expressed by nemo me impunè 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 cœlum; and the heathenish and old-Adamical sentiment of the clansman anent Roderick Dhu—

“Who rights his wrong where it was given,
If it were in the court of Heaven,”
L. of the Lake, v. 6.

—commends itself far more to what divines are pleased to call “fallen human nature” that is the natural man.

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

The romantic and exceptional circumstances under which my large labour was projected and determined have been sufficiently described in the Foreword (vol. i. pp. vi-ix). 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 ambers 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 unmooned 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 etherial 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 gray 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-grey 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

—Contentez-vous, mes yeux,

Jamais vous ne verrez chose plus belle;

and the picture still haunts me.

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

THE ENGINEERING OF THE WORK.

During the autumn of ’82, after my return from the Gold Coast (with less than no share of the noble metal which my companion Cameron and I went forth to find and found a failure), my task began in all possible earnest with ordering the old scraps of translation and collating a vast heterogeneous collection of notes. I was fortunate enough to discover, at unlettered Trieste, an excellent copyist able and willing to decypher a crabbed hand and deft at reproducing facetious and drolatic words without thoroughly comprehending their significance. At first my exertions were but fitful and the scene was mostly a sick bed to which I was bound between October ’83 and June ’84. Marienbad, however, and Styrian Sauerbrunn (bei Rohitsch) set me right and on return to Trieste (Sept. 4, ’84), we applied ourselves to the task of advertising, the first two volumes being almost ready for print. And here we were confronted by a serious question, What number of copies would suffice my public? A distinguished Professor who had published some 160,000 texts with prices ranging from 6d. to 50 guineas, wrote to me in all kindness advising an issue of 150 to 250: an eminent printer-publisher would have ventured upon some 500: others rose to 750 with a warning-note anent “wreckage,” great risk and ruinous expenditure, while only one friend—and he not in business—urged an edition of 2,000 to 3,000 with encouraging words as to its probable reception. After long forethought I choose 1,000 as a just middle.

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

No. I.

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

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

This was presently followed by

No. II.

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

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

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

Subscribers who apply directly are preferred.

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

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

No. III.

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

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

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

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

(Signed) G. W. S.

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

Some 24,000 to 30,000 circulars were posted at an expense of £126 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. But when the affair was reported, with due explanations, to the late lamented Postmaster-General Henry Fawcett—a man in a million, and an official in ten millions—he had the justice and generosity to look upon the offence as the result of pure ignorance, and I received a caution “not to do it again.”

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

“TUPPENCE as a Touchstone.”

Trieste, Nov. 2, ’85.

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

I am, Sir, etc.

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 nonsubscribers, 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 money 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:—

Sir,

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

Yours obediently,

X. Y. Z.

And Cynophron will probably receive for all reply:—

Sir,

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

Yours obediently, etc.

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

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

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

To this production so manifestly inspired by our old friend £ s. d., I replied in The Academy (August 7, ’85), the gist of the few lines being as follows:—

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

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

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

The first volume of Captain Burton’s long-expected edition of the “Arabian Nights” was issued yesterday to those who are in a position to avail themselves of the wealth of learning contained in this monumental labour of the famous Eastern traveller. The book is printed for subscribers only, and is sold at a price which is not likely to be paid by any save the scholars and students for whose instruction it is intended. But though the Benares “Kamashastra Society” are careful to let the world know that the “Thousand Nights and a Night” is not “published” in the technical sense of the term, the pages which will be read by a thousand purchases 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 story-teller 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 the amusement of the company squatted round the camp fire, as did Captain Burton many a time and oft in the course of his Eastern wanderings.

To Captain Burton the preparation of these volumes must have been a labour of love. He began them in conjunction with his friend Steinhaeuser, soon after his return from the Mecca pilgrimage, more than thirty years ago, and he has been doing something to them ever since. In the swampy jungles of West Africa a tale or two has been turned into English, or a poem has been versified during the tedium of official life in the dank climate of Brazil. From Sind to Trieste the manuscript has formed part and parcel of his baggage, and though, in the interval, the learned author has added many a volume to the shelf-full which he has written, the “Thousand Nights and a Night” have never been forgotten. And now when he nears the end of his labours it seems as if we had never before known what the beauteous Shahrazad told the King who believed not in the constancy of women. Captain Burton seems the one sober man among drunkards. We have all the old company, though they appear in dresses so entirely new that one scans the lines again and again before the likeness is quite recognised. However, Tajal-Mulook will no doubt be as knightly as ever when his turn comes, for the Barber is garrulous, after the old fashion, and the three Shaykhs relate their experiences with the Jinns, the gazelles, and mules as vividly as they have done any time these thousand years or more. King Yoonan and the Sage Dooban are here, and so are King Sindibad and his falcon, the young Prince of the Black Islands, the envious Weezer and the Ghoolah; and the story of the Porter and the Ladies of Baghdad lose nothing of their charms 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 Malaysia, 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 Kuran treats. But in his conversation, as in his folk-lore, there is no subtle corruption or covert licentiousness—none of the vicious suggestion and false sentiment that pervade so many of the productions of the modern romantic school.

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

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

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

THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE"

like a red rag upon a rageous bull. I should rather say that it excited the so-called “Sexual 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 offences 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 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.

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

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

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

Hard upon those “revelations” comes 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 arch-plotter 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.[447] Despite, however, the “Stead Defence Fund” liberally supplied by Methody; despite the criminal’s Pecksniffian 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.

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.”

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 penny-a-liner, 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 practise at my expense its old trade, falsehood and calumny, and the right of private judgment, sentence and execution. In hopes that his splenatic and vindictive fiction might bear fruit, at one time the Pall Mall Gazette has “heard that the work was to be withdrawn from circulation” (when it never circulated). Then, “it was resolved by the authorities to request Captain Burton not to issue the third volume and to prosecute him if he takes no notice of the invitation;” and, finally, “Government has at last determined to put down Captain Burton with a strong hand.” All about as true as the political articles which the Pall Mall Gazette indites with such heroic contempt for truth, candour and honesty. One cannot but apply to the “Gutter Gazette” the words of the Rev. Edward Irving:—“I mean by the British Inquisition that court whose ministers and agents carry on their operations in secret; who drag every man’s most private affairs before the sight of thousands and seek to mangle and destroy his life, trying him without a witness, condemning him without a hearing, nor suffering him to speak for himself; intermeddling in things of which they have no knowledge and cannot on any principle have a jurisdiction. * * * I mean the ignorant, unprincipled, unhallowed spirit of criticism, which in this Protestant country is producing as foul effects against truth, and by as dishonest means as ever did the Inquisition of Rome” (p. 5 “Preliminary Discourse to Ben Ezra,” etc.).

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

To the Editor of the “Pall Mall Gazette.”

Sir,—

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 halfway house between the literary Arabic and the colloquial Arabic, both of which they need, and need introductions too. I venture to say that its largest use will be as a grown-up school-book, and that it is not coarser than the classics in which we soak all our boys’ minds at school.

Anglo-Egyptian.

September 14th, 1885.

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Stead left his prison-doors noisily declaring that the rest of his life should be “devoted to Christian chivalry”—whatever that majestic dictum may mean. As regards his subsequent journalistic career I can observe only that it has been unfortunate as inconsequent. He took up the defence, abusing the Home Secretary after foulest fashion, of the coldblooded 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).

A journal which, like the Pall Mall Gazette, affects preferably and persistently sexual subjects and themes lubric, 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 intersexual 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 civilisation, 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 civilisation 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 practised 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 nautch-dress ogling with painted eyes and waving and wriggling like a young Bayadère.

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.

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

The Echo is just a bit wild

Its “par.” is indeed, a hard hitter:

In fact, it has not drawn it mild;

’Tis a matter of “Burton and bitter.”

I rejoice to subjoin that the Echo has now (1888) made a name for decent and sensible writing, having abandoned the “blatant” department to the Star (see, for the nonsense about a non-existent Alderman Waterlow its issue of Sept. 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 November 2, ’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 possess 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.

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

THE “SATURDAY REVIEW.”

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

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

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

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

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

The second article (March 27, ’86), treating of vol. iii., opens with one of those plagiaristic commonplaces, 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, the 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 à 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 labours of a quarter of a century,” writes the translator in L’Envoi, are now brought to a close, and certainly no one could have been found better suited by education and taste to the task of translating the ‘Nights’ than is the accomplished author of the ‘Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina.’ His summing up of the contents and character of ‘The Thousand and One Nights’ in the Terminal Essay is a masterpiece of careful analysis, and we cannot do better than conclude our notice with a paragraph that resumes with wonderful effect the boundless imagination and variety of the picture that is conjured up before our eyes:—

“Viewed as a tout ensemble in full and complete form, they are a drama of Eastern life, and a Dance of Death made sublime by faith and the highest emotions, by the certainty of expiation and the fulness of atoning equity, where virtue is victorious, vice is vanquished, and the ways of Allah are justified to man. They are a panorama which remains ken-speckle 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 wolds; gardens fairer than those of the Hesperid; seas dashing with clashing billows upon enchanted mountains; valleys of the Shadow of Death; air-voyages and promenades in the abysses of the ocean; the duello, the battle, and the siege; the wooing of maidens and the marriage rite. All the splendour and squalor, the beauty and baseness, the glamour and grotesqueness, the magic and the mournfulness, the bravery and the baseness of Oriental life are here.”

And now, after the Saturday Review has condescended severely and sententiously to bepreach me, I must be permitted a trifling return in kind. As is declared by the French, an objectionable people which prefers la gloire to “duty,” and even places “honour” before “honesty,” the calling of the Fourth Estate is un sacerdoce, an Apostolate: it is a high and holy mission whose ends are the diffusion of Truth and Knowledge and the suppression of Ignorance and Falsehood. “Sacrilege,” with this profession, means the breaking of its two great commandments and all sins of commission and omission suggested and prompted by vain love of fame, by sordid self-esteem or by ignoble rancour. What then shall we say of a paper which, professedly established to “counteract the immorality of The Times,” adds to normal journalistic follies, offences and mistakes an utter absence of literary honour, systematic misrepresentation, malignity and absolute ruffianism? Let those who hold such language exaggerated glance at my 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, before addressing myself to another Reviewer, I would be allowed a few words upon two purely personal subjects; the style chosen for my translation and my knowledge of the Arabian language and literature.

I need hardly waste time to point out what all men discern more or less distinctly, how important are diction and expression in all works of fancy and fiction and how both branches, poetic and prosaic, delight in beauty adorned and allow in such matters the extreme of liberty. A long study of Galland and Torrens, Lane and Payne, convinced me that none of these translators, albeit each could claim his special merit, has succeeded in preserving the local colouring of the original. The Frenchman had gallicised and popularised the general tone and tenor to such extent that even the vulgar English versions have ever failed to throw off the French flavour. Torrens attempted literalism laudably and courageously enough; but his execution was of the roughest, the nude verbatim; nor did his familiarity with Arabic, or rather with Egyptian, suffice him for the task. Lane, of whom I have already spoken, and of whom I shall presently be driven by his imprudent relatives and interested friends to say more, affected the latinised English of the period, flat and dull, turgid and vapid as that of Sale’s Koran; and his style proved the most insufficient and inadequate attire in which an Oriental romance of the Middle Ages could be arrayed. Payne was perfectly satisfactory to all cultivated tastes, but he designedly converted a romantic into a classical work: none ignores its high merits regarded merely as strong and vital English, but it lacks one thing needful—the multiform variety of The Nights. The original Arabic text which in the first thirteen tales (Terminal Essay, p. 80) 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 every-day 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 man wants a treatment totally different, a style which, by all or any means, little mattering what they be, can avoid the imminent deadly risk of languor and monotony and which adds to fluency the allurement of variety, of surprise and even of disappointment, when a musical discord is demanded.

Again, my estimate of a translator’s office has never been of the low level generally assigned to it even in the days when Englishmen were in the habit of englishing every important or interesting work published on the continent of Europe. We cannot expect at this period of our literature overmuch from a man who, as Messieurs Vizetelly assure their 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 naïve 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:—

“GRAND TRANSLATOUR, NOBLE GEOFFROY CHAUCIER.”

Here,

“The firste finder of our faire langage”

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 Boccaccio.

That my attempts to reproduce the form and features of the original and that 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).

It has been circulated widely enough by the Lane-Poole clique—poules mouillées 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-Aksá (western Mauritania), from Chaldæa 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’ái, 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 Badawín 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 amalgam of Arabs and Kurds 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.

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 abrégé français-arabe, Paris, Imprimerie de la Republique, An 10; 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 Synthétique adds a study of Maroccan and Egyptian; Professor Cherbonneau (Paris, 1854) Précis Historique, and Dialogues, etc., (Alger, 1858); M. Gasselin (Paris, 1866) Dictionnaire français-arabe; M. Brassier (Algiers, 1871) Dictionnaire pratique also containing Algerine and Tunisian terms; General Parmentier (Vocabulaire arabe-français des Principaux Termes de Geógraphie, 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 Français-Arabe des Voyageurs en Syrie et en Egypte. Rowland de Bussy printed (Algiers, 1877) his Dialogues Français-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, Leipzig, 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.

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.

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

My initiation into the mysteries of Arabic began at Oxford under my tutor Dr. W. A. Greenhill, who published a “Treatise on Small-pox and Measles,” translated from Rhazes—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 “Sarf 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.

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. 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. 264–294). 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, gules and azure.

Paris, le 24 Févr., 1888.

Monsieur,

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 dites que je ne suis 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 dont vos publications tourmillent. Quant à ليت 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 l’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. والسلام

Agréez, Monsieur,
l’expression de mes sentiments distingués,
Comte Landberg,
Dr.-ès-lettres.

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

THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW,”

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

“This is the Augustan age of English criticism,” say the reviewers who are fond of remarking that the period is one of literary appreciation rather than of original production; that is, contemporary reviewers, critics and monograph-writers are more important than “makers” in verse or in prose. In fact it is their aurea 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.

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 neighbouring 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 without 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 plaintiffs attorney.” These arts fully account for the downfall of criticism in our day and the deafness of the public to such literary verdicts. But a few years ago a favourable review in a first-rate paper was “fifty pounds in the author’s pocket:” now it is not worth as many pence unless signed by some well-known scribbling statesman or bustling reverend who caters for the public taste. The decline and fall is well expressed in the old lines:—

“Non est sanctior quod laudaris:

Non est vilior si vituperaris.”

“No one, now-a-days cares for reviews,” wrote Darwin as far back as 1840; and it is easy to see the whys and the wherefores. I have already touched upon the duty of reviewing the reviewer when the latter’s work calls for the process, despite the pretensions of modern criticism that it must not be criticised. Although to buffet an anonym is to beat the air still the very effort does good. A well-known and popular novelist of the present day was a favourite butt for certain journalists who, with the normal half-knowledge of men—

“That read too little, and that write too much”—

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

“The creatures of the stall and stye,”

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

And now to my tale.

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

For the clique had appropriated all right and claim to a monopoly of The Arabian Nights Entertainments which they held in hand as a rotten borough. The “Uncle and Master,” Mr. Edward William Lane, eponymous hero of the house, had re-translated 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 8vo, the edition of 5,000 hung fire at first until the high price (£3. 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 succès 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,[448] 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: nat. Hereford, September 17, 1801), nor by the plates, which are now the property of Messieurs Chatto and Windus, becoming too worn for use, but simply by deficient demand. And the clique, represented by the late Edward Lane-Poole in 1879, who edited the last edition (1883) with a Preface by Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole, during a long run of forty-three years never paid the public the compliment of correcting the multitudinous errors and short-comings of the translation. Even the lengthy and longsome notes, into which The Nights have too often been merged, were left untrimmed. Valuable in themselves and full of information, while wholly misplaced in a recueil of folk-lore, where they stand like pegs behung with the contents of the translator’s adversaria, the monographs on details of Arab life have also been exploited and reprinted under the “fatuous” title, “Arabian (for Egyptian) Society in the Middle Ages: Studies on The Thousand and One Nights.” They were edited by Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole (Chatto and Windus) in 1883.

At length the three volumes fell out of date, and the work was formally pronounced unreadable. 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 unsouled 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. xii.–xiii.) 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 be questioned whether an Arab edifice should be decorated with old English wall-papers.”

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

My reply to the arch-impostor, who

Spreads the light wings of saffron and of blue,

will perforce be somewhat detailed: it is necessary to answer paragraph by paragraph, and the greater part of the thirty-three pages refers more or less directly to myself. To begin with the beginning, it caused me and many others some surprise to see the “Thousand Nights and a Night” expelled the initial list of thirteen items, as if it were held unfit for mention. Cet article est principalement une diatribe contre l’ouvrage 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 unfact 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;[449] 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. 1–39), 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. 35).

“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. 12mo) 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. 408), 19 in number, and taken from the 21 illustrations in MM. Jouaust’s edit. of Galland with preface by J. Janin? Why also did the critic not inform us that Scott’s sixth volume, the only original part of the work, was wilfully omitted? This paragraph ends with mentioning the labours of Baron von Hammer-Purgstall, concerning whom we are afterwards told (p. 186) for the first time that he “was brilliant and laborious.” Hard-working, yes! brilliant, by no means!

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

As regards Lane’s unjustifiable excisions the candid writer tells us everything but the truth. As I have before noted (vol. ix. 304), the main reason was simply that the publisher, who was by no means a business man, found the work outgrowing his limits and insisted upon its coming to an untimely and, alas! a tailless end. This is perhaps the principal cause for ignoring the longer histories, like King Omar bin al-Nu’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 uncalled-for excisions, King Jali’ad of Hind, etc. (pp. 102, vol. ix. 32–134). The sum represents a grand total of 701 pages, while not a few of the notes are filled with unimportant fabliaux and apologues.

But the critic has been grandly deceptive, either designedly or of ignorance prepense, in his arithmetic. “There are over four hundred of these (anecdotes, fables, and stories) in the complete text, and Lane has not translated more than two hundred” (p. 172). * * * “Adding the omitted anecdotes to the omitted tales, it appears that Lane left out about a third of the whole ‘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 read ‘unclean.’ 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).

What a mass of false statement!

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

Again, in Lane’s text the tales number 62 (viz. 35 + 14 + 13) and as has been stated all the longest have been omitted, save only Sindbad the Seaman. The anecdotes in the notes amount to 44½ (viz. 3½ + 35 + 6): these are for the most part the merest outlines and include the 3½ 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 106½ tales, and the reader will note the difference between 106½ 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.[450] And these the critic swells to “over four hundred!” Thus I have more than double the number of pages in Lane’s text (allowing the difference between his 38 lines to an oft-broken page and my 41) and nearly two and a-half tales to his one, and therefore I do not mean “a third as much again.”

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

The critic now passes to The Uncle’s competence for the task, which he grossly exaggerates. Mr. Lane had no “intimate acquaintance with Mahommedan life” (p. 174). His “Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians” should have been entitled “Modern Cairenes;” he had seen nothing of Nile-land save what was shown to him by a trip to 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.[451]

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 chapt. i. the proportion is pp. 20, notes: 15 text; and in chapt. ii. it is pp. 20: 35. Then they become, under the publisher’s protest, beautifully less; and in vol. iii. chapt. 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’œuvres: 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 practising the “puff indirect.”

But the just complaint against Lane’s work is its sin of omission. The partial Reviewer declares (pp. 174–75) that the Arabist “re-translated 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. 77, etc.) Let me add that wittiest and most rollicking of Rabelaisian skits, “Ali 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.

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

But—and there is a remarkable power in this particle—Mr. Payne’s work is “restricted to the few wealthy collectors of proscribed books and what booksellers’ catalogues describe as ‘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,’ and 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).[452] I should say that the childish indecencies and the unnatural vice of the original cannot deprave any mind save that which is perfectly prepared to be depraved; the former would provoke only curiosity and amusement to see bearded men such mere babes, and the latter would breed infinitely more disgust than desire. The man must be prurient and lecherous as a dog-faced baboon in rut to have aught of passion excited by either. And most inept is the conclusion, “So long as Mr. Payne’s translation remains defiled by words, sentences, and whole paragraphs descriptive of coarse and often horribly depraved sensuality, it can never stand beside Lane’s, which still remains the standard version of the Arabian Nights” (p. 179.) Altro! No one knows better than the clique that Lane, after an artificially prolonged life of some half-century, has at last been weighed in the balance and been found wanting; that he is dying that second death which awaits the unsatisfactory worker and that his Arabian Nights are consigned by the present generation to the limbo of things obsolete and forgotten.

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

“A careful (again!) examination of Captain Burton’s translation shows that he has not, as he pretends (!), corrected it to agree with the Calcutta text, but has made a hotchpotch 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 i’ 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”[453] (ibid.). He concludes, making me his rival in ignorance, that I am unacquainted with the history of the MS. from which the four-volume Calcutta Edition was printed (ibid.). I should indeed be thankful to him if he could inform me of its ultimate fate: it has been traced by me to the Messieurs Allen and I have vainly consulted Mr. Johnston who carries on the business under the name of that now defunct house. The MS. has clean disappeared.

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

“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 conduite, 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 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 Nicholete (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 “raconteurs” (p. 186), and as “intermedium” (p. 194) terms which are certainly not understood by the general. And here we have a list of six in thirty-three pages:—evidently this Reviewer did not expect to be reviewed.

“Here is a specimen of his (Captain Burton’s) verse, in which, by the way, there is seen another example of the careless manner in which the proofs have been corrected” (p. 181). Generous and just to a work printed from abroad and when absence prevented the author’s revision: false as unfair to boot! And what does the critic himself but show two several misprints in his 33 pages; “Mr. Payne, vol. ix. p. 274” (p. 168, for vol. i. 260), and “Jamshah” (p. 172, for 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.”

“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 pepper’” (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, 163–164) 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. 256), 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.

“This amusement (of reproducing the Saj’a) maybe 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 (Anapæsts and Iambs, Terminal Essay, x. 294), and the Tawíl or long measure (ibid. pp. 282, 296), which Mr. Lyall (Translations of Ancient Arab. Poetry, p. xlix.) compares with “Abt Vogler,”

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

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

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

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

The Reviewer cites in his list, but evidently has not read, the “Tales from the Arabic,” etc., printed as a sequel to The Nights, or he would have known that Mr. Payne, for the second part of his work, deliberately adopted a style literal as that above-quoted because it was the liveliest copy of the 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 naïve 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.[454]

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 sold by Messieurs Bell and Daldy. And if The Nights are to be bowdlerised for students, why not, I again ask, mutilate Plato and Juvenal, the Romances of the Middle Ages, Boccaccio and Petrarch and the Elizabethan dramatists one and all? What hypocrisy to blaterate about The Nights in presence of such triumphs of the Natural! How absurd to swallow such camels and to strain at my midge!

But I had another object while making the notes a Repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric form (Foreword p. xix). 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 and no “kidneys”; hips and no “haunches”; a bust and nor “backside” nor “buttocks”: in fact, she is a monstrum, a figure fit only to frighten the crows.

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

In p. 184 the Reviewer sneers at me for writing “Roum” in lieu of Rum or 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.

“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. 192), 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 Afghanistan during its ill-judged occupation by Lord Auckland, and Sind after the conquest by Sir Charles Napier.

“Captain Burton actually depends upon the respectable and antiquated D’Herbelot for his information” (p. 184). This silly skit at the two great French Orientalists, D’Herbelot and Galland, is indeed worthy of a clique which, puff and struggle however much it will, can never do a tithe of the good work found in the Bibliothèque 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 proofs that the Naskhi character (vol. i. 128) so long preceded the Cufic which, amongst vulgar Moslems, is looked upon like black letter in Europe. But Semitic epigraphy is only now entering upon its second stage of study, the first being mere tentative ignorance: about 80 years ago the illustrious De Sacy proved, in a learned memoir, the non-existence of letters in Arabia before the days of Mohammed. But Palmer,[455] 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 Sabæan epigraphs—a mass of new-old literature.

And now, having passed in review, and having been much scandalised by “the extravagant claims of the complete translations over the Standard Version”—a term which properly applies only to the Editio princeps, 3 vols. 8vo.—the Edinburgh delivers a parting and insolent sting. “The different versions, however, have each its proper destination—Galland for the nursery, Lane for the library, Payne for the study, and Burton for the sewers” (p. 184). I need hardly attempt to precise the ultimate and well-merited office of his article: the gall in that ink may enable it hygienically to excel for certain purposes the best of “curl-papers.” Then our critic passes to the history of the work, concerning which nothing need be said: it is bodily borrowed from Lane’s Preface (pp. ix.–xv.), and his Terminal Review (iii. 735–47) with a few unimportant and uninteresting details taken from Al-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 Collège 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,)[456] is an audacious fraud.” It requires something more than “audacity” to offer such misstatement even in the pages of the Edinburgh, and can anything be falser than to declare “the whole of the last fourteen tales have nothing whatever to do with the ‘Nights’”?

These 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 mediæval 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 a 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 beginning[457] 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.[458]

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.

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. 419). 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 ’l-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. 372–373) who can be dull even when translating the Immortal Barber.

The first quotation is so far changed that the peppering of commas (three to the initial line of the original) disappears to the reader’s gain, Lane’s textual date (App. 263) is also exchanged for that of the notes (A.H. 653); and the “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 Bul. Edit. The latinisms due to Lane show here in force—“Looked for a considerable time” (Maliyyan = for a long while); “there is an announcement that presenteth itself to me” (a matter which hath come to my knowledge), and “thou hast dissipated[459] my mind” (Azhakta rúhí = thou scatterest my wits, in the Calc. Edit. Saghgharta rúhí = thou belittlest 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-dinar 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 non-equivalent; the terms Jehovah, Allah and God and the use of them involving manifold fine distinctions. If it be true that God made man, man in his turn made and mismade God who thus becomes a Son of Man and a mere racial type. I need not trouble my reader with further notices of these extracts whose sole use is to show the phenomenal dullness of Lane’s latinised style: I prefer even Torrens (p. 273).

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

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

THE BESTIAL ELEMENT IN MAN.

“One hesitates to dissent from so great an authority as Sir Richard Burton on all that relates to the bestial element in man.” So writes (p. xli., 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 halfdozen 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.

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

Richard F. Burton.

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

THE CRITIC IN ANGLO-AMERICA.

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

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

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

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

The authorities have discovered where Capt. Burton’s “Thousand and One Nights” is being printed, despite the author’s efforts to keep the place a secret, but are undecided whether to suppress it or to permit the publication of the coming volumes. Burton’s own foot-notes are so voluminous that they exceed the letterpress of the text proper, and make up the bulk of the work.[460] The foulness of the second volume of his translation places it at a much higher premium in the market than the first.

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

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

And the same is the case with the St. Louis Post Dispatch (November 11, ’85); the Mail Express of New York (November 23, ’85); the Weekly Post of Boston (November 27, ’85) which again revives a false report and with the Boston Herald (December 16, ’85). The Chicago Daily News (January 30, ’86) contains a malicious sneer at the Kamashastra Society. The American Register (Paris, July 25, ’86) informs its 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’.”

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.

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 Poé, 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 in it.

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 ergò 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 écœurant vulgarity, personal beyond all bounds of common decency, sensational as a transpontine drama, is American; America is the greatest nation upon earth’s face; ergò the daily sheet is setting-up the standard of English speech and forming the language of the Future, good and too good for all the world. This low standard of the Press is the more regretable as its exalted duty is at present to solve the highest problems social and industrial, such as co-operation in labour, the development of fisheries, direct taxation versus indirect and a host of enigmas which the young world, uncumbered by the burdens of the Old World, alone shall unravel.

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

And here we see the shady side of the educational process, the diffusion of elementary and superficial knowledge, of the veneer and polish which mask, until chipped-off, the raw and unpolished material lying hidden beneath them. A little learning is a dangerous thing because it knows all and consequently it stands in the way of learning more or much. Hence it is sorely impatient of novelty, of improvement, of originality. It is intolerant of contradiction, irritable, thin-skinned, and impatient of criticism, of a word spoken against it. It is chargeable with the Law of Copyright, which is not only legalised plunder of the foreigner, but is unfair, unjust and ungenerous to native talent for the exclusive benefit of the short-sighted many-headed. I am far from charging the United States with the abomination called “International Copyright;” the English publisher is as sturdy an enemy to “protection” as the Transatlantic statesman; but we expect better things from a new people which enjoys the heritage of European civilisation without the sufferings accompanying the winning of it. This mediocrity has the furious, unpardoning hatred of l’amour propre 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 practising 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.

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 peculiarity 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 travelling; 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 hydraheaded.

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 home 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.

And here I feel myself bound to offer some explanation concerning

THE HOUSEHOLD EDITION OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS,

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

To keep the word of promise to our ear

And break it to our hope.

Hardly had my third volume of “The Nights” (proper) been issued to my patrons when a benevolent subscriber, whose name I am bound to conceal, apprised me that he had personal and precise information concerning a project to pirate the production. England and Anglo-America, be it observed, are the only self-styled civilised countries in the world where an author’s brain-work is not held to be his private property: his book is simply no book unless published and entered, after a cost of seven presentation copies, at “Stationers’ Hall”—its only 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 10s. would have fallen probably to one-half value. The two pirates met by agreement in Paris, where the design was duly discussed and determined; but, fortunately for me, an unexpected obstacle barred the way. The London solicitor, professionally consulted by the dishonest firm, gave his opinion that such a work publicly issued would be a boon to the Society for the Suppression of Vice, and would not escape the unsavoury attentions of old Father Antic—the Law.

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

Mr. Justin Huntley McCarthy, a name well known in the annals of contemporary literature, undertook the task of converting the grand old barbarian into a family man to be received by the “best circles.” His proofs, after due expurgation, were passed on to my wife, who I may say has never read the original, and she struck out all that appeared to her over-free, under the promise that no mother should hesitate in allowing the book to her daughters. It would, perhaps, surprise certain “modest gentlemen” and blatantly virtuous reviewers that the amount of raw material excised from the text and the notes, chiefly addressed to anthropologists and Orientalists, amounts to only 215 pages out of a grand total numbering 3,156.

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.

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

Nothing now remains for me but the pleasant task of naming the many friends and assistants to whom this sixteenth and last volume has been inscribed. The late Reverend G. Percy Badger strongly objected to the literal translation of “The Nights” (The Academy, December 8, ’81); not the less, however, he assisted me in its philology with all readiness. Dr. F. Grenfell Baker lent me ready and valuable aid in the mechanical part of my hard labour. Mr. James F. Blumhardt, a practical Orientalist and teacher 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 vivantes, 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. 471 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.

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. 270–300) 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 unalphabetic lands, with the results of his wide reading and lexicographical experience.

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

Now hear my hope from men of liberal mind,

Faults, that indulgence crave, shall seek and find;

For whose blames and of despite decries,

Is wight right witless, clean reverse of wise.

To which let me add the following gentle reminder from Ibn Khaldún:—

All that we can we do, and who ne’er swerves

From best endeavour much of praise deserves.

Farewell!

RICHARD F. BURTON.

United Service Club,

September 30, ’88.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS

Morning Advertiser, September 15th, 1885.

As the holiday season draws to a close the publishers’ announcements of “new books” fill column after column of the organs chosen from these special communiqués, 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 literature. 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 foot-notes which the editor appends speak with much freedom of many things usually avoided as themes for conversation in polite society, though they throw a flood of light on hundreds of features of Oriental life on which, since travellers have been compelled to write for “refined” audiences, the student has failed to be informed. * * * * * * Yet, admitting that The Nights are often coarse and indelicate, and sometimes even gross, it is a mistake to suppose that they are demoralising in the same way that a French novel of the Zola type is, or might be. Indeed, what we would call its impropriety is only a reflection of the 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 “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.

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

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

Whitehall Review, September 17th, 1885.

The publication of the first volume of Captain Burton’s translation of the Alif Laïla, enriches the world of Oriental investigation with a monument of labour and scholarship and of research. The book is advisedly, and even inevitably, printed for private circulation, and is intended, as Captain Burton says in his preface, only for the eyes of such persons as are seriously students of Oriental life and manners, and are desirous of making a more complete acquaintance with the great masterpieces of Eastern literature than has hitherto been possible, except to finished Arabic scholars. * * * * * In the name of the whole world of Oriental scholarship, we offer our heartfelt thanks and congratulations to Captain Burton upon the appearance of this first volume: and we look forward with the keenest interest for its successors.

Home News, September 18th, 1885.

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

Figaro, September 19th, 1885.

A laboured attempt is made in the Pall Mall Gazette to show that the publication of the first volume of Captain Burton’s edition of the Arabian Nights is a greater outrage on decency than that of the revelations of Mr. Stead and his associates. The comparison is monstrous and absurd. Captain Burton’s great work is only intended for men and for students who desire to acquire a masterly knowledge of Egyptian Arabic; subscribers only can obtain copies, and but a thousand have been printed.

I am glad to be able to testify to the ability with which Captain Burton has discharged the first portion of his Herculean task. The second volume will be looked forward to with much interest, though I hope attention will be paid to the translator’s appeal. Captain Burton says that nothing could be more repugnant to his feelings than the idea of these pages being placed in any other hands than the class for whose especial use the book has been prepared.

Nottingham Journal, September 19th, 1885.

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

Daily Exchange, September 19th, 1885.

The first volume of Captain Burton’s Thousand Nights and a Night, printed at Benares by the Kamashastra Society for subscribers only, has been delivered to the latter. If the other nine portions equal the first, English literature will be the richer by a work the like of which is rare. The English is strong and vitally idiomatic. It is the English of Shakespeare and Jeremy Taylor, the English of Robert Browning, with a curiously varied admixture of modern colloquial phraseology. I confess that I was not prepared, familiar as I was with Captain Burton’s other work, to find so perfect a command of clear and vigorous style on the part of the great traveller and Oriental scholar. Mrs. Grundy would have protested against the public issue of The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night, and Mrs. Grundy would have had reason as well as propriety on her side; but I must say that the tone of the work is singularly robust and healthy. What a treasure-house Captain Burton has opened! Until he turned the key we knew little or nothing of The Nights, the Villon Society’s issue notwithstanding, and the notes which he has added to the work have a value which is simply unique.

Continental Times, September 26th, 1885.

I have been favoured, if that is the right word to use, with a sight of Captain Burton’s new translation of the Arabian Nights. It is a sumptuous work, in an exquisite binding of gold and black, with broad pages and fine large type, such an edition as a scholar and a book lover finds after his own heart. Moreover, the translation is a wonderful bit of English. Captain Burton has by a fanciful, but on the whole, true impulse, chosen to tell the story in old English, not the English of Chaucer, but of a sufficiently archaic type. The choice of an idiom which in some degree recalls the air of the Canterbury Tales and the Decameron—to say nothing of Pantagruel and Panurge—softens the grossness of some of the stories, and gives an additionally quaint charm to the others. No one, however, will recognise at first sight the book of his childhood. The solemn invocation of Allah on the first page, the spelling of Vizier as Wazir, and of genie as Jinni, as well as the terrible frankness of some of the tales, all seem to transport us into another land than that through which we floated on the “silken sale of infancy.” On the whole, Captain Burton is right in strictly confining his work to the library and the student. The reading of it by the public generally can only spoil an immortal work for our boys and girls.

Montreal Daily Herald, September 21st, 1885.

Captain Burton has translated the Arabian Nights, but will only publish it for private distribution. A correspondent says that “all these years we have been reading Lane’s turgid emasculated selections we have been kept in the dark as to their singular beauty and vitally human strength. I have been amazed at the Nights as englished by Captain Burton in strong, vital, picturesque prose. The stories, instead of being pieces of wild extravagance, unreal and theatrically tinselly, with the limelight instead of daylight, and paste instead of diamonds, are full of abounding life.”

The Bat, September 29th, 1885.

Captain Burton, in his way, renders a gigantic service to all students of literature who are not profound Orientalists, and to many who are, by giving them a literal, honest, and accurate translation of the Arabian Nights. * * * Some idiotic persons here and there, and certain journals which have earned an infamous notoriety by doing their best to deprave public morals, have raised a foolish clamour against Captain Burton and his translation. Journalists, who had no objection to pandering to the worst tastes of humanity at a penny a copy, are suddenly inspired by much righteous indignation at a privately printed work which costs a guinea a volume, and in which the manners, the customs, and the language of the East are boldly represented as they were and as they are. Such critics Captain Burton, and the readers of Captain Burton’s translation, can afford to despise and to ignore. The Arabian Nights Entertainment has been the playbook of generations, the delight of the nursery and the school-room for nearly two hundred years. Now it is high time that scholars and students should be allowed to know what the Arabian Nights Entertainment really is. Lovers of Arabic have long since known something of the truth concerning the Alif Laila. It need no Burton, it needed no Payne, to tell the masters of Oriental languages that The Thousand Nights and a Night was a very different thing from what either Galland or Lane had made it out to be. Mr. Payne, in his way, rendered no slight service, Captain Burton, in his way, renders a gigantic service to all students of literature who are not profound Orientalists, and to many who are, by giving them a literal, honest, and accurate translation of the ‘Arabian Nights.’ * * * The blatant buffoons who have spoken of Captain Burton’s work indifferently only show their own ignorance of the literature of the East. Captain Burton’s work is well worth the price he charges for it to students of Eastern literatures and Eastern manners, and Eastern customs; but the misguided lunatic who invests in it in the hope of getting hold of a good thing, in the Holywell Street sense of the term, will find indeed that the fool and his money are soon parted.

The Academy, October 3rd, 1885.

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

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

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

“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 pretence be classed with ‘the garbage of the brothels.’ In the lack of lucidity, which is supposed to distinguish English folk, our middle-class censores morum strain at the gnat of a privately circulated translation of an Arabic classic, while they daily swallow the camel of higher education based upon minute study of Greek and Latin literature. When English versions of Theocritus and Ovid, of Plato’s Phaedrus and the Ecclesiazusae, now within the reach of every school-boy, have been suppressed, then and not till then can a “plain and literal” rendering of the Arabian Nights be denied with any colour of consistency to adult readers. I am far from saying that there are not valid reasons for thus dealing with Hellenic and Graeco-Roman and Oriental literature in its totality. But let folk reckon what Anglo-Saxon Puritanism logically involves. If they desire an Anglo-Saxon Index Librorum Prohibitorum, let them equitably and consistently apply their principles of inquisitorial scrutiny to every branch of human culture.

“JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS.”

The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 10, 1885.

THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT.

First Notice.

Everything comes to him who waits—even the long-promised, eagerly-expected “Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights,” by Richard F. Burton. It is a whole quarter of a century since this translation of one of the most famous books of the world was contemplated, and we are told it is the natural outcome of the well-known Pilgrimage to Medinah and Mecca. Of Captain Burton’s fitness for the task who can doubt. It was during that celebrated journey to the tomb of the Prophet that he proved himself to be an Arab—indeed, he says, in a previous state of existence he was a Bedouin. Did he not for months at a stretch lead the life of a Son of the Faithful, eat, drink, sleep, dress, speak, pray like his brother devotees, the sharpest eyes failing to pierce his disguise? He knows the ways of Eastern men—and women—as he does the society of London or Trieste. How completely at home he is with his adopted brethren he showed at Cairo, when, to the amazement of some English friends who were looking on at the noisy devotions of some “howling” Dervishes, he suddenly joined the shouting, gesticulating circle, and behaved as if to the manner born. He has qualified as a “Howler,” he holds a diploma as a master Dervish (see vol. iii. of his “Pilgrimage”), and he can initiate disciples. Clearly, to use a phrase of Arabian story, it was decreed by Allah from the beginning, and fate and fortune have arranged, that Captain Burton should be the one of all others to confer upon his countrymen the boon of the genuine unsophisticated Thousand Nights and a Night. In the whole of our literature no book is more widely known. It is spread broadcast like the Bible, Bunyan and Shakespeare; yet although it is in every house, and every soul in the kingdom knows something about it, yet nobody knows it as it really exists. We have only had what translators have chosen to give—selected, diluted and abridged transcripts. And of late some so-called “original” books have been published containing minor tales purloined bodily from the Nights. There have been many versions, beginning with the beautiful Augustan French example of Professor Galland, but all have failed, or rather no one has attempted, to reproduce the great Oriental masterpiece. Judged by the number of editions—a most fallacious test of merit—Lane’s three volumes, on the whole, have found greatest favour with the British public. He was too timid to give to the world the full benefit of his studies, and he kept a drawing-room audience in view. He was careful to adapt his picture to the English standard of propriety, and his suppressions and omissions are on a wholesale scale. Lord Byron said of English novelists that they give a full length of courtship and but a bust of marriage. Mr. Lane thought it expedient 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, he 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’œuvre, 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. This is how Shahrazad begins her discourses:—

“But when it was midnight Shahrazad awoke and signalled to her sister Dunyazad, who sat up and said, ’Allah upon thee, O my sister, recite to us some new story, delightsome and delectable, wherewith to while away the waking hours of our latter night.’ ‘With joy and goodly gree,’ answered Shahrazad, ‘if this pious and auspicious King permit me.’ ‘Tell on,’ quoth the King, who chanced to be sleepless and restless, and therefore was pleased with the prospect of hearing her story. So Shahrazad rejoiced; and thus on the first night of the Thousand Nights and a Night, she began with the

TALE OF THE TRADER AND THE JINNI.”

“It is related, O auspicious King, that there was a merchant of the merchants who had much wealth and business in various cities. Now on a day he mounted horse and went forth to recover monies in certain towns, and the heat sore oppressed him; so he sat beneath a tree, and putting his hand into his saddle-bags, took thence some broken bread and dry dates and began to break his fast.”

The recital proceeds until

“Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day, and ceased to say her permitted say. Then quoth her sister to her, ‘How fair is thy tale, and how grateful, and how sweet and how tasteful!’ And Shahrazad answered her, ‘What is this to that I could tell thee on the coming night were I to live and the King would spare me?’ Then said the King in himself, ’By Allah, I will not slay her until I have heard the rest of her tale.’ Then the King went forth to his audience-hall, and the Wazir went with his daughter’s shroud under his arm. The King issued his orders, and promoted this and deposed that, until the end of the day; and he told the Wazir no whit of what had happened. But the Minister wondered thereat with exceeding wonder; and when the Court broke up King Shahryar entered his palace.

Now when it was the Second Night,

said Dunyazad to her sister Shahrazad, ‘O my sister, finish for us that story of the Merchant and the Jinni;’ and she answered, ‘With joy and goodly gree, if the King permit me.’”

The first volume takes us through the mazes of the stories included in the Tales of “The Trader and the Jinni,” “The Fisherman and the Jinni,” “The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad,” “The Tale of the Three Apples,” “The Tale of Nur Al-Din Ali and his Son Badr Al-Din Hassan,” and “The Hunchback’s Tale.” 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.

Lincoln Gazette, October 17.—No. 2.
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 announced that the profits on his writings for a whole year amounted to a few dollars. Captain Burton has broken through the bondage, and the result promises to be highly satisfactory. But he has been threatened with pains and penalties; one trade journal, the Printing Times and Lithographer, under the immediate direction of an eminent bookseller, known for his vast purchases of rare publications, announced that The Arabian Nights would be suppressed unless its tone and morals were unexceptionable! In short, publishers are exasperated, and, like the Peers, they do not see the force of being abolished. The authors, however, who sigh to be independent, must not take it for granted that the experiment is easy, or likely to be often successful. In this particular instance it is a case of the Man and the Book. There is only one Arabian Nights in the world, and only one Captain Burton. The general tone of the London press has been distinctly favourable, the Standard leading the way and other journals following suit. The Pall Mall made an effort to lodge the author in Bow Street, with its “Chief Director,” but it has likewise had the fairness to give both sides of the question, and whilst attacking on its own account, to admit letters and articles in defence of a genuine and unsophisticated translation. As we have said [in our notice of last week] Captain Burton has been explicit on the point that his edition is by no means intended for the circulating library. It is mainly for scholars, for students whose tastes lead them Eastwards, and last, but not least, it is intended as a guide for our rulers and statesmen. England, we are reminded, “the greatest Mohammedan empire in the world,” neglects Arabism, and discourages it in examinations for the Indian Civil Service, “hence, when suddenly compelled to assume the reins of Government in Moslem lands, as Afghanistan in times past, and Egypt at present, she fails after a fashion which scandalises her few friends; and her crass ignorance concerning the Oriental peoples which should most interest her exposes her to the contempt of Europe as well as of the Eastern world. The deadly blunders we commit through ignorance are brought out in the one fact, that with the English army in Suakim, during the troubles of 1883–84, not an English official in camp, after the death of the gallant and lamented Major Morice, was capable of speaking Arabic.” 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 every-day 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. Like the prose, the verse belongs to three separate epochs. In the prose there are two sets of apologues or beast-fables, which may date from any remote age, one having been found on an Egyptian papyrus; we have next the fairy tales, and these were borrowed from the Persians, whose marvellous poetic old Guebres, who gave to Islamism everything it has which breathes of spiritualism or romance; and we have the histories whose proper names, such as Harun al-Rashid, with that of his Wazir, Ja’afar, give the dates. And so with the poetry. Here and there we have some grand old fragment of pre-Islamitic verse taken from the Hamásah anthology or from the “Suspended Poems;” but more common are the quotations from Abou Nowas, Amaí, and other singers of the décadence who were the ornaments of Harun al-Rashid’s court: and lastly, there are the pièces de occasion, the copies of verses made by the writer or writers of the Nights, and as a rule these are mere doggerel. When the story is a love story the poetry is abundant, the agitated youths and damsels bandying verses to express the intensity of their emotions. Some tales are nearly half verse, and then when we get into parts where the sentiment is less exalted, where the recitals are mixed with humorous touches, such as in the “Hunchback’s Tale,” or “The Barber’s Tale of Himself,” or “The Tale of the Tailor,” we have pages of nearly unbroken prose. A striking novelty in Captain Burton’s translation is the frequent occurrence of passages in cadenced prose, called in Arabic “Saj’a,” or the cooing of a dove. These melodious fragments have a charming effect on the ear. They come as dulcet-surprises, and mostly occur in highly-wrought situations; or they are used to convey a vivid sense of something exquisite in art or nature. We give one or two instances of these little eddies of song set like gems in the prose. Their introduction seems due to whim or caprice, but really is due to profound study of the situation as if the tale-teller felt suddenly compelled to break into the rhythmic strain. The prose ripples and rises to dancing measure when the King of the Age, wandering in a lonely palace, comes upon the half-petrified youth, “the Ensorcelled Prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

It is a marvel that these cadences have never been reproduced before. They have been faintly attempted by Eastwick, in his “Gulistan,” whilst Mr. Payne simply passed them over, rejected them as of no account. They fall in with Captain Burton’s plan of omitting nothing; of giving the Nights intact in the precise form in which they are enjoyed by the Oriental. Beside the verses so characteristic of exaggerated Arabic sentiment, and the rhymed cadences, let like precious stones into the gold of the prose, the proverbs embodying the proverbial wit and wisdom, are all rhymed as in the original Arabic. What Arabists think of this translation we may learn from a professed Arabist writing to this effect:—“I am free to confess, after many years study of Arabic, a comparison of your translation with the text has taught me more than many months of dry study,” whilst Englishmen who for years have lived in the East, are making the discovery that, after all, they have known little or nothing, and their education is only beginning with this version of the Arabian Nights. It is only knowledge that knows how to observe; and it is satisfactory to observe that Captain Burton’s amazing insight into Eastern peculiarities has been put to its best use in giving a true idea of the People of the Sun and a veritable version of their Book of Books. The labour expended on this edition has been enormous. The work could only have been completed by the most excessive and pertinacious application. All the same we are told it has been “a labour of love,” a task that has brought its own exceeding great reward. There is only one regret, the circulation is bound to be limited. We cannot help hoping, at some future time, a selection may be made from the ten volumes, and even as they now stand many of the stories could be read aloud. If the public cannot have the whole work, at least it might have a part, and not be shut out from a masterpiece unparalleled.

Lyttelton Times, August 25th, 1886.
The New “Arabian Nights.”

Sir Richard Burton’s version of the Thousand Nights and a Night, privately printed for the use of men and scholars, is now unobtainable. The edition sold off immediately, and the price has already reached twenty-six guineas. The best critics among the thousand purchasers say that the language is wonderful, the words graceful, the rendering of thought, as well as words, most accurate, and the poetry marvellous. The Oriental purchasers say that the language is wonderful, and they declare that they have learnt more orientalism in the volumes than by long years of study.

Land and Water, September 4th, 1886.

Some time since I had occasion to speak out energetically about this same work, thinking that a book which, though running only to a small edition, might from its general interest excite the curiosity of those who saw copies of it, and that, within its luxurious covers, matters of prurient crudity might meet the prying eyes of those whom we would guard against such knowledge. * * * Of the vigorous and poetic English of Captain Burton’s translation, its freshness and virility, it is needless to speak.

United Service Gazette, September 11th.

There is a charm and fascination about Burton’s translation that enchains the reader. The Eastern beauties of expression are singularly attractive, and, under careful editing, we may rely on a rich feast of such gems of thought and poesies of imagination as only the resplendent Orient can produce.

Court Circular, September 11th, 1886.

Sir Richard Burton’s translation of The Arabian Nights is a work of marvellous erudition, and a perpetual delight to Arabic scholars and all who care to read these famous stories as accurately reproduced as possible. But they contain much that is not fit reading for women and for young people.

London and Westminster Sporting Life, September 18th, 1886.

From a private note which I have received from Sir Richard Burton I judge that the supplementary volumes to the Thousand Nights and a Night will be of great and peculiar interest. Indeed the entire set will form a library of Oriental lore of unique value.

Nottingham Journal, October 6th, 1886.

That Captain Burton’s work gives delight to the subscribers may be inferred from their encomiums. One writes, “I would give passages of it to the Board Schools”; another goes so far as to say, “It is like a new Bible for beauty of expression, and can you fancy a more wondrous gift than a second inspired Book?”

Staffordshire Sentinel, Hanley, October 13th.

Honi soit qui mal y pense. Are we not living in a too-squeamish age? First an expurgated edition of the Arabian Nights from the pen of Captain Burton, now a similar act of Vandalism to that book of our boyhood, Robinson Crusoe. What there was in the pages of the immortal work of Defoe, to which even the most susceptible could take exception, is one of those things known only to the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge, to whom we are indebted for this last act of Bowdlerizing.

Civil Service Gazette, November 2nd, 1886.

Whatever reason there may have been for limiting to the number of a thousand copies the original translation by Captain Sir Richard F. Burton, his literally correct, complete, and beautiful version of the Arabian Nights, The Thousand Nights and One Night tales—a work of prodigious erudition and mastery of Oriental language, literature, manners, and customs—we cannot but think it was a pity to have placed exclusively within the reach of the select, opulent, scholarly, and fastidious few that which would have been a delight and joy for ever to the less favoured of fortune—the countless millions. The “Arabian Nights Entertainments” even in the imperfect, garbled, second-hand version which has been current in England for a hundred and eighty years through the French paraphrase by Professor Galland, has been read by all classes, high and low, with admiration of the wonderful invention, marvellous adventures, oriental imagery, charming dramatic scenes, exquisite poetry, varied pictures of Eastern life and habits—with all which the collection abounds. Why, then, when a genuine translation, the work of many years, has been completed by a matchless Arab scholar, traveller, and linguist is perfected, should it be withheld from the multitude, and reserved for the delectation of the learned and the rich. We are of opinion that the Arabian Tales, which are so universally pleasing to the people, should not be withheld from them, as they would be practically if shut up in glass cases, among the éditions de luxe of connoisseurs.

Fun, November 2nd, 1886.
New Leaves.

Apart from the learning and labour so lavishly bestowed upon the original edition, there is ever a charm of seeming enchantment surrounding these wondrous stories, which age does not abate, nor time destroy—yet the truthfulness of this translation enriches and enhances them.

Eastern Daily Press, November 13th, 1886.

I think I should like to shake the curators of the Bodleian library. Last September Sir Richard Burton applied to them through Dr. Rost, the chief librarian at the India Office, for leave to have a MS. of the Arabian Nights transferred from the Bodleian to the India Office under the custody of Dr. Rost. The request was a perfectly regular and usual one, and in Sir Richard Burton’s case it was accompanied by a distinct promise that no “indelicate or immoral” tale should be translated. There was therefore no fear that the peculiar frankness which characterised Sir Richard’s renderings of previous tales would be repeated. A month—six weeks—passed without a reply from the curators, the fact being that they had met twice without being able to get the necessary quorum of three, and once again without doing anything at all. Then Sir Richard Burton got curt note informing him that at the fourth meeting the majority of the curators were unwilling to lend the MS. At the same meeting they allowed sundry MSS. to be sent to the India Office. Now this not only implies a gross neglect of duty, but it is a wanton insult to a man who, after all, is one of the most distinguished Orientalists of his day. Burton’s Arabian Nights, disfigured as they are by the indelicacy of the original, are a masterpiece of idiomatic translation; and as a purely literary work must rank very high indeed. Moreover, the shadow of an excuse for the curator’s conduct disappeared after Sir Richard’s pledge to keep within the lines of strict propriety. After all, learned men have a sad tendency to degenerate into meddling old women.

County Gentleman, November 27th, 1887.

Sir Richard Burton’s work has been criticised in some quarters for a too obvious straining after the literal reproduction of the original. In our opinion, such a course deserves rather praise than censure. And, indeed, we would demur to the phrase “obvious straining” in connection with the great Orientalist and explorer’s wonderfully successful representation to English eyes and ears of both the meaning and the form of this marvellous mosaic of Eastern fancy and imagination. That certain words and phrases Sir Richard makes use of are unfamiliar to the British reader is perfectly true. But it must be remembered that they have been made the means of rendering intelligible unfamiliar modes of thought and feeling which are entirely beyond the reach of smug literary conventions and forms of expression. For ourselves, we can honestly say that these very outrages upon Philistine sensibility have been amongst the principal charms of this unequal and unrivalled translation—adding vastly to the vicissitudes and seeming fidelity of the work. The marvel to us has been rather—remarking the uniformly level execution of the whole—that so few verbal ingenuities of the kind referred to have been found necessary, and that so much of the translated prose is English undefiled, albeit of the vigorous and vertebrate order, and so much of the translated poetry has the ring of genuine English verse. We might, however, write pages in explanation of our view of the manner in which Sir Richard has discharged his task without approaching his definition of his work as “a faithful copy of the great Eastern Saga-book by preserving intact not only the spirit, but even the méchanique, the manner, and the matter.” Of the tales themselves, we can, of course, say nothing true that is new, or nothing new that is also true. No romances of intrigue and adventure, of wealth and poverty, of luxury and love, have had such universal acceptance, or received so much of that homage which is said to be the sincerest—the flattery of imitation. And this by means of the garbled and imperfect versions which have hitherto obtained currency in the Western world.

The Philadelphia, December 12th, 1887.
Once More in Print.

Sir Richard F. Burton is once more in print. * * * * He has some two or three years to serve as Consul at Trieste before he is entitled to a retiring pension, and it is a grievance with the friends and admirers of “the Arabian Knight” that the government does not do a generous thing—that is, “retire” and pension him at once. There is no doubt that the prospects of a prolonged life would be strengthened if he could retire from the Consulate and fix his own dwelling place. And his literary career is by no means at an end. The third volume of “The Supplemental Nights” is to-day in the hands of the subscribers. Like all its predecessors, it contains a characteristic dedication. Thus: “To Henry Edward John, Lord Stanley of Alderly, this the most innocent volume of The Nights is inscribed by his old companion, the Author.” It would appear from the Foreword that Sir Richard Burton has had some difficulty with his work. He has reckoned without his host. He says: “The peculiar proceedings of the curators, Bodleian Library, Oxford, of which full particulars will be given in due time, have dislocated the order of my volumes. The prospectus had promised that Tome III. should contain detached extracts from the MS. known as the Wortley-Montague, and that No. IV. and part of No. V. should comprise a reproduction of the ten Tales (or eleven, including ‘The Princess of Daryabar’), which have so long generally been attributed to Professor Galland. Circumstances, however, wholly beyond my control, have now compelled me to devote the whole of this volume to the Frenchman’s stories.” What has happened? Has Sir Richard Burton’s Devils (I use the word in its legal sense) been refused permission to translate? His vials of wrath will be filled to overflowing if that sort of opposition accumulates. Already we are promised a reckoning with the Edinburgh Review. Well may the translator of The Nights be spared to deal out his “smashing blow” with characteristic vigour. He is like the late Charles Reade in this—he is never so entertaining, to the onlooker, as when he goes tooth and nail for an antagonist. The reader has no cause to complain of the dislocation of the author’s plans. Two of the most famous of the supplemental tales are given in the volume in question making it uncommonly bulky and investing it with special interest. The account of how the originals of these came into his possession is remarkable, but it is too long for citation. The two tales to which I refer are “Alaeddin, or the Wonderful Lamp,” and “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.” More disillusion. It is no longer Aladdin, but Alaeddin. It is not “Open sesame,” but “Open O simsin” and “Shut, O simsin” in the Forty Thieves. I dare say there are many other departures from the text of the stories which we have known from our childhood. In Sir Richard Burton’s version “Alaeddin” opens in this wise: “There dwelt in a city of the cities of China a man which was a tailor, withal a pauper, and he had one son, Alaeddin, hight. Now, this boy had been from his babyhood a ne’er-do-well, a scapegrace; and when he had reached his tenth year,” &c. “The Forty Thieves” opens differently. “In days of yore and in times long gone before there dwelt in a certain town of Persia two brothers, one named Kásim and the other Alí Bábá, who at their father’s demise had divided the little wealth he had left to them with equitable division, and had lost no time in wasting and spending it all.”

Academy, December 11th, 1886.

Knowing his profound Oriental scholarship, and amazing gift of tongues, and the vast range of his reading, one could not have doubted that Sir Richard Burton’s translation would be a noteworthy performance; but none, I imagine, were prepared for the fine force and old-world flavour of the style which he has forged for himself on this occasion, or for the extraordinary richness, variety, and quaintness of his vocabulary. Not only has he with characteristic masterfulness pressed into his service any and every word, English or foreign, current or obsolete, that suited his fancy or answered to the need of the moment, but he has not scrupled to coin the lacking epithet when wanted. Thus, the ape-prince is “ensorcelled;” a merchant who sells perfumes and drugs is “a perfumer-cum-druggist;” an aged man “long o’ beard,” is an “oldster;” two warriors “fall to derring-do of cut and thrust;” the Jinniyah of Bassora flies “firmamentwise;” Prince Ajib goes to sea with a fleet of “ten keel;” our old acquaintance the Hunchbacked Groom is a “Gobbo” and an “accursed carle;” one of the ladies of Baghdad wears a “mantilla;” Ja’afar the prudent minister of Harun al-Rashid, hesitates not to propose in good Scottish dialect that “each and every one of us gang his own gait;” and the porter refuses to “stump it” till he has heard the stories of the three “monoculars,” better known as the three one-eyed Kalendars, who were sons of kings. These are but a few examples taken hastily and at random; but they serve to show the curious mosaic-work of the style. “Ensorcelled,” englished from the French, is certainly ben trovato; “derring-do” is pure Spenserian; “keel” in the sense of ships, though surviving at Newcastle-on-Tyne as the name of a carrying boat, has scarcely been in literary use since the days of Verstagen and Surrey; “Gobbo” is Italian, and the porter’s refusal has a distinct Transatlantic flavour.

Lincoln Gazette, December 18th, 1886.

Few people know anything of the trouble and the travelling which Sir Richard Burton has undertaken in the accomplishment of his tremendous task. He has ransacked all the libraries of the east and west, and has often undertaken a roving but idle quest in the hope of throwing clearer light on a single disputed passage. His profound acquaintance with Oriental languages and literature is shown at every turn, and, preserving the romantic colouring of the original in a poetic rhythm of expression, he has cast his finished version in a form which is singularly picturesque. While he has wisely discarded the affected purisms under which inferior scholars love to shelter their incompetency, he does not disfigure his pages with gratuitous accents, and he manfully indulges our fond reminiscences of old friends by calling the Caliph the Caliph. Nor is it any fault of his that we miss some of our favourites from his edition, such as Cogia Hassan of the matchless diamonds and Aladdin of the marvellous lamp; for we believe that they were spurious, though wonderfully attractive, and either sprung or took new shape in the fertile fancy of that accomplished and brilliant Frenchman, M. Galland. * * * Still another speciality in this most complete of all Translations is the versical portion, amounting to 10,000 lines. The Arab folk break into verse, “drop into poetry,” on every occasion. When overcome by their feelings they weep and recite verses, or they swoon first and on recovery pour forth couplets or poems of many lines. Sometimes they improvise, or they quote their own Moores, Tennysons, and Shelleys. The young Prince looks at the headsman who is ordered to slay him. “I wept,” he says, “with exceeding weeping until I made him weep with me, and looking at him I began to recite these couplets.” The sentimental stories are profusely sprinkled with verse; one of the charming peculiarities of this form of utterance is its inconsequence, the verses welling up from the depths of a despairing breast, often having little or no relation to the circumstances of the moment. Mr. Lane gives a prose paraphrase of a portion of the poems, but he omits verses right and left. We quote a brief specimen from Lane and the same from Burton, and the reader will judge between them.

(Lane.)

“We tread the steps appointed for us; and the man whose steps are appointed must tread them. He whose death is decreed to take place in one land will not die in any land but that.”

(Burton.)

“Bear my body, bear my soul wheresoever you may fare,

And where you pitch the camp let my body buried lie.

Cry my name above my grave, and an answer shall return.

The meaning of my bones responsive to your cry.”

The Nights without verses are like the day without sunshine. They are a most important part of the work. They illustrate character and manners, and the allusions, often remote and strange, require explanation, which is supplied in the shape of informing foot-notes to the pages. As a characteristic example of super-sentimental exaggeration, take the hospitable welcome of a lady, long hidden under ground, whose solitude is suddenly broken by the arrival of a fair Prince.

“O youth, what sayest thou to wine?” and I answered, “Do as thou wilt.” Whereupon she went to a cupboard and took out a sealed flask of right old wine and set off the table with flowers and scented herbs and began to sing these lines:—

“Had we known of thy coming we fain had dispread The cores of our hearts on the balls of our eyes;

Our cheeks as a carpet to greet thee had thrown, And our eyelids had strown for thy feet to betread.”

If Sir Richard Burton has taken incredible pains with his “cooing cadence” and his verses, and imparted to them their true eastern colour, his personages, his array of characters, his sultans, his wazirs, princes, merchants, soldiers, slaves, his princesses, concubines, houris, slave-girls, and old women, are simply alive and exhale the living East—they are real as any creatures in Lincoln—to use Mr. Swinburne’s simile in his Sonnet on this translation of the Arabian Nights.

Weekly Dispatch, November 14th, 1887.

The curators of the Bodleian Library are determined to save morality from Sir Richard Burton, so they have refused to let him see a manuscript of The Arabian Nights, which he asked them to send to the India Office. Sir Richard has produced some queer tales in his translations of Eastern fables; but as he gave a distinct promise to the curators that nothing that transgressed propriety should be reproduced, their behaviour seems rather shabby. Lady Burton is publishing an expurgated edition of her husband’s work for “household reading”; but no doubt the Bodleian curators will forbid their daughters to look at it.

The Gazette, Saturday, December 18th, 1886.

The most widely circulated translations of the Nights, the countless editions, many of them illustrated, give no idea whatever of the true East, and are mere burlesques of Galland’s French version. If only parents could distinguish between the genuine and the spurious, these unsatisfactory imitations would cease to be acceptable, and children in the nursery would be allowed to drink from the real fountain. It would be quite as easy, and far better for the juveniles, to follow the story of an Ensorcelled Prince, of a Magic Horse, or a Bottled Jinni, where the colour is all true, as it is to swallow make-believe attempts of Eastern imagery. But a better time is coming for children, and for children of a greater growth. To know the Arabian Nights in all their perfection, in all their gorgeous setting, in all their bewildered variety, and in all their truth, we must look to the latest translator. For the last fifty years it is Lane’s version that has held the field, and many people, not knowing there could be anything better, accepted him as final. But, like the Horseman of Brass on the Horse of Brass in the Sea of Peril, the time has come for dethronement, and Lane must yield to a scholar of wider research, to an Orientalist who, during one part of his career, lived as a veritable Moslem, and was indistinguishable from other Moslems. Lane’s idea was to give but a portion of the Nights, to please himself and his printer and publisher as to what should be selected, what omitted. If a story resembled another story, he rejected it on the score that it might prove wearisome. For instance, he leaves out “Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle Girl!”—despite its great historical interest as connected with Charlemagne and his daughter—because it bears a family likeness to “Ali Shar and Zamurrud;” and because he himself felt unsympathetic he altogether discards the lively story of “Masrur and Zayn al-Mawásif,” a tale full of poetical merits with lute scenes nowhere excelled, and with the most beautiful of all the many gardens in the Nights. He passes over the truly Rabelaisian tale of “Ali the Persian and his marvellous Carpet Bag;” he omits the chivalric story of “King Omar bin al-Nu’uman and his Sons”—like cutting “Ivanhoe” out of “Waverley” novels—and for fear of ruffling susceptibilities he suppresses “The Rogueries of Dalilah” and “Mercury Ali of Cairo,” most characteristic of stories, full of fun, frisk and frolic and devilry, opening up new ideas of Eastern human nature. These are but indications of Lane’s arbitrary method, and people have submitted because quite unconscious they have been defrauded, and that treasures have been withheld. At length, however, they have the entire and perfect chrysolite. Sir Richard Burton does not pick and choose.

Various novelties distinguish the Burton edition. To begin with, a strict account is kept of the separate nights, and the interest of the opening drama is sustained throughout. On each individual Night of the whole Thousand and One we learn exactly the amount and quality of incident related. The dramatic idea which binds the whole sheaf of stories together is kept artistically in view. It is a peculiarity of the stories that so many of them are told when the speaker is on the edge of doom—hardly the moment for collected oration—and the story saves the story-teller’s life. The mighty Ifrit who cuts off the hands and feet of his lady with four strokes, and then sends her head flying, because he thinks she has betrayed him, is diverted from instant vengeance on the suspected lover by the prospect of a story.

Scotch News, Glasgow, December 23rd, 1886.

The first issue of Sir Richard Burton’s Arabian Nights, limited to one thousand copies, was quickly absorbed by scholars and linguists. It would have been a subject of regret had so remarkable a work remained comparatively unknown. * * * English versions of the Arabian Nights have hitherto chiefly represented them as charming fairy tales. It remained to Sir R. Burton to fully accentuate their wider meaning. In the translator’s words, their “pathos is sweet, deep and genuine, tender, simple and true.”

The morale is sound and healthy, and at times we descry vistas of a transcendental morality, the morality of Socrates in Plato.

Morning Advertiser, December 25th, 1886.

Replete with poetry, and expressed in the graceful, fluent language of the Orientals, this rendering by a master scholar is a real boon, and may be taken as a typical specimen of the perfection to be obtained in translation by the power of an author’s research and enthusiasm.

The Literary World, January 7th, 1887.

THE REAL ARABIAN NIGHTS.

To many familiar from childhood with “The Arabian Nights Entertainments,” it has come as a shock to be told that the great work, in its true form, is nevertheless still to them a sealed book; yet it would seem that the appearance of Sir Richard Burton’s translation, but a few months ago, for the first time put within the reach of the English public anything like a faithful reproduction of the original. Even this can hardly be said to be given to the public. Only a thousand copies were published, and those at a price that would have been prohibitory to the majority, if the issue had been unlimited. Another obstacle to the general enjoyment of Sir Richard Burton’s translation was, undoubtedly, the too faithful rendering of certain passages, specimens of “an exaggerated mode of expressing thought” peculiar to Orientalists.

Numbers of English readers, to whom even the incomplete and bald versions hitherto common amongst us have afforded many a delightful hour, on hearing of the Burton edition have felt themselves almost mocked as they listened to its glowing praises, and were told at the same time that it was for ever beyond their reach. Some would, perhaps, rather have never heard of it, and have been left in happy ignorance of anything better than they already had.

Now, however, all such lovers of the famous Oriental tales have consolation offered them. Lady Burton, deeply sympathising with their disappointment, and anxious, too, that her husband’s great labour, “a deep well of reading and knowledge,” should not be wasted upon a few only, has come forward with an edition of her own which, while preserving the beauty and value of the larger work, will be more accessible to general readers, and, moreover, fitted for family use. The aim she has had in view in editing has been to make as few omissions as possible, consistent with the latter requirement, on which point Lady Burton observes: “I guarantee that no mother shall regret her girl’s reading this Arabian Nights.” We may say at once that, having carefully read a considerable portion of this first volume, we think her guarantee quite made good. Of the original 3,215 pages 215 only have been omitted. The translator’s “Foreword” tells how the work came to be taken up, its system, and the conditions under which it was carried out, and its relation to other translations. Here is Sir R. Button’s own account of

The Object of this Version.

“Briefly, the object of this version is to show what ‘The Thousand Nights and a Night’ really is. Not, however, by straining verbum reddere verbo, but by writing as the Arab would have written in English. My work claims to be a faithful copy of the great Eastern Saga Book, by preserving intact not only the spirit, but even the mécanique, the manner of the matter. Hence, however prosy and long-drawn out be the formula, it retains the scheme of The Nights, because they are a prime feature in the original. Moreover, holding that the translator’s glory is to add something to his native tongue, while avoiding the hideous, hag-like nakedness of Torrens and the bald literalism of Lane, I have carefully englished the picturesque turns and novel expressions of the original in all their outlandishness; for instance, as when the dust-cloud raised by a tramping host is described as ‘walling the horizon.’”

Although occasionally, perhaps, the formulæ may be a little too “long-drawn out,” and some expressions too “outlandish” for the enjoyment of all, the reading is extremely easy and pleasant. There is in it a charming movement and rhythm altogether absent in the popular translations. Indeed, speaking of the translation as a whole, it is, as compared with Scott’s or Lane’s, especially the former, as a poem to a paraphrase. The very fulness of detail, far from wearying, so fills in the pictures before the mind that one is inclined to linger over them with delight. To justly compare the several translations one must place whole stories side by side. For this there is no space here; but perhaps the comparison of a few brief extracts with Lane’s well-known translation will serve to convey some idea of the greater beauty of Sir R. Burton’s. Dr. Scott’s version differs so widely from either, and is so extremely scanty, that verbal comparison with it is almost impossible. An idea of the scantiness may be formed from the fact that the matter comprised in the tenth night, according to Burton and Lane, extends in Scott from the thirty-first night to the thirty-sixth. The following passages are from the “Story of the Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad”:—

Lane.—“If of love we complain, what shall we say? Or consuming through desire, how can we escape?

Or if he send a messenger to interpret for us, he cannot convey the lover’s complaint.

Or if we would be patient, short were our existence after the loss of those we love.

Naught remaineth to us but grief and mourning, and tears streaming down our cheeks.

O you who are absent from my sight, but constantly dwelling within my heart,

Have you kept your faith to an impassioned lover who while time endureth will never change?

Or, in absence, have you forgotten that lover who, on your account is wasting away?

When the Day of Judgment shall bring us together I will beg of our Lord a protracted trial.”

Burton.—“If we ’plain of absence what shall we say? Or if pain afflict us where wend our way?

An I hire a truckman to tell my tale, The lover’s plaint is not told for pay:

If I put on patience, a lover’s life after loss of love will not last a day:

Naught is left me now but regret, repine; And tears flooding cheeks for ever and aye:

O thou who the babes of these eyes hast fled, Thou art homed in heart that shall never stray;

Would heaven I wot hast thou kept our pact, Long as streams shall flow, to have firmest say?

Or hast forgotten the weeping slave Whom groans afflict and whom griefs waylay?

Ah, when severance ends, and we side by side Rest, I’ll blame thy rigours and chide thy pride!”

Lane.—“Then, winking to the Khaleefeh, he said, ‘There remaineth but an hour; and to-morrow we will bring them before thee, and thou shalt ask them their story.’ But the Khaleefeh refused to do so, and said, ‘I have not patience to wait so long for their history.’—Words followed words, and at last they said, ‘Who shall put the question to them?’—and one answered, ‘The Porter.’”

Burton.—“Then he winked at the Caliph and whispered to him, ‘There is but one hour of darkness left and I can bring them before thee to-morrow, when thou canst freely question them all concerning their story.’ But the Caliph raised his head haughtily, and cried out at him in wrath, saying, ‘I have no patience left for my longing to hear of them; let the Kalendars question them forthright.’ Quoth Ja’afar, ‘This is not my counsel.’ Then words ran high and talk answered talk; and they disputed as to who should first put the question, but at last all fixed upon the Porter.”

Lane.—“How good is it to pardon one able to resist! and how much more so one who is helpless!

For the sake of the friendship that subsisted between us, destroy not one for the crime of another!”

Burton.—“How fair is ruth the strong man deigns not smother! And fairest fair when shown to weakest brother:

By love’s own holy tie between us twain, Let one not suffer for the sin of other.”

Here are four other examples of the difference of language between the two translations:—

Lane.—“A damsel of tall stature, high-bosomed, fair and beautiful, and of elegant form, with a forehead like the bright new moon, eyes like those of gazelles, eyebrows like the new moon of Ramadân, cheeks resembling anemones, and a mouth like the seal of Suléyman, her countenance like the full moon in its splendour, and the forms of her bosom resembled two pomegranates of equal size.”

Burton.—“A lady of tall figure, some five feet high; a model of beauty and loveliness, brilliance, and symmetry, and perfect grace. Her forehead was flower-white; her cheeks like the anemone, ruddy bright; her eyes were those of the wild heifer or the gazelle, with eyebrows like the crescent moon, which ends Sha’aban and begins Ramuzán; her mouth was the ring of Sulayman; her lips coral-red; her teeth like a line of string pearls, or of camomile petals; and her throat recalled the antelope’s. In fine, she was like her of whom the poet said,” &c.

Lane.—“Was greatly surprised.”

Burton.—“Marvelled with exceeding wonder.”

Lane.—“Touched the chords with the ends of her fingers.”

Burton.—“Swept the strings with her finger-tips.”

Lane.—“We heard the sounds of drums and trumpets, warriors galloped about, and the air was filled with dust raised by the horses’ hoofs.”

Burton.—“We heard the tom-toming of the kettle-drum and the tantara of trumpets, and clash of cymbals; and the rattling of warmen’s lances; and the clamours of assailants, and the clanking of bits, and the neighing of steeds; while the world was canopied with dense dust and sand-clouds raised by the horses’ hoofs.”

As we said before, however, for a fair comparison we must refer our readers to the works themselves. Those who will take the pains to read Burton’s side by side with any of the received translations, will, we have no question, recognise its vast superiority in every way. On the question of fulness it is enough to say that if the remaining volumes are of the same size as the first, Burton’s contains more than half as much again as Lane’s.

We must not omit to mention the explanatory notes. “I can hardly imagine the Nights being read to any profit by men of the West without commentary,” says Sir Richard Burton. “My annotations avoid only one subject, the parallels of European folk-lore and fabliaux which, however interesting, would overswell the bulk of a book whose speciality is anthropology.” “The scholar who adds to mine the notes of Lane, will know as much of the Moslem East, and more than many Europeans who have spent half their lives in Orient lands. Such, at least, is my belief.” The notes are brief enough not to be passed over, and are conveniently placed at foot of the page.

Referring briefly to the matter of the Arabian Nights, we cannot do better than quote the words of Sir R. Burton again:—

“The Matter of the ‘Nights.’

“The general tone is exceptionally high and pure. The devotional fervour often rises to the boiling point of fanaticism. The pathos is sweet, deep, and genuine; tender, simple, and true; utterly unlike much of our modern tinsel. Its life, strong, splendid, and multitudinous, is everywhere flavoured with that unaffected pessimism and constitutional melancholy which strike deepest root under the brightest skies and which sigh in the face of heaven:

“Vita quid est hominis? Viridis floriscula mortis;

Sole oriente oriens, sole cadente cadens.”

“Poetical justice is administered by the literary Kazi with exemplary impartiality and severity, ‘denouncing evil-doers and eulogising deeds admirably achieved.’ The morale is sound and healthy, and at times we descry vistas of transcendental morality—the morality of Socrates in Plato. It is, indeed, this unique contrast of a quaint element, childish crudities, jostling the finest and highest views of life and character, shown in the kaleidoscopic shiftings of the marvellous picture with many a ’rich truth in a tale’s pretence’; pointed by a rough, dry humour which compares well with ‘wut’; the alternations of strength and weakness, of pathos and bathos, of the boldest poetry (the diction of Job) and the boldest prose (the Egyptian of to-day), and, finally, the whole dominated everywhere by that marvellous Oriental fancy, wherein the spiritual and the supernatural are as common as the material and the natural; it is the contrast, I say, which forms the chiefest charm of The Nights, which gives it the most striking originality, and which makes it a perfect expositor of the mediæval Moslem mind.”

At the present the first volume only of the work has reached us. We shall give our readers early notice of the appearance of the remaining five.

Queen, January 27th, 1887.

As regards the text, the poetical portions are exhibited in a metrical form, and all divisions and breaks are carefully indicated. The foot-notes are both numerous and important, and they should by no means be lightly passed ever, giving, as they do, much valuable information, explanatory and illustrative, which the “home student” will profit by. This great effort will be extensively appreciated, and not a few will read and learn more than otherwise they would or could have done respecting those wonderful tribes and nations, among whom still linger so much of the lore which instructs as well as fascinates, not only themselves, but the children of the West. We have read considerable portions of this volume, and compared them with a popular English edition, and, without hesitation, we say that the style of this is far better, and the arrangement very much to be preferred. The colloquial terms and homely phrases, we presume, truly reflect the original, as do some other unusual forms of expression. Meanwhile, we regard the book with much satisfaction, and hope it will receive a hearty welcome from the well-instructed and inquiring reader who seeks wisdom as well as recreation.

County Gentleman, February, 1887.

Several of the stories now issued are in the form of apalogues or fables, in which the inferior animals are the chief actors and interlocutors. Amongst these we may mention, the tales of the Water Fowl and the Tortoise, the Wolf and the Fox, the Mouse and the Ichneumon, the Cat and the Crow, the Hedgehog and the Wood Pigeons, and the Sparrow and the Peacock. There is, of course, here a suggestion or a reminiscence of Æsop, but the Arabian fabulists take a line of their own. There are striking differences between the two authors or sets of authors, both in the narrative form and in the ethical quality of the moral conveyed. And this difference may, we think, on examination, be traced to national idiosyncrasy and modes of thought. The fables of the Arabian Nights have less point and conciseness, and less of harmonious subservience of details to unity of effect and impression than those of great Ethiopian. On the other hand, they have greater perfection of literary form, far more splendid imagery, and in some instances more psychological subtlety in the somewhat long-drawn disquisitive, and, indeed, disputatious dialogues in which the chief characters indulge. For our own part, we have found this introduction of the lower animal element an interesting temporary departure from the comprehensive and elaborate, and, sooth to say, somewhat monotonous representations of men and their affairs which form the staple of these gorgeous productions of an ancient Oriental loom. In the story of the Wolf and the Fox we have an example of the justification of the lex talionis, which mingles somewhat curiously with the general exhortations to mercy and forgiveness, founded on the maxims of the Sacred Books. In our notice of the first volume we made some inadequate attempt to express our admiration of the virile beauty and force of Sir Richard Burton’s translation. Only captious critics will consider that he has strained a point in his use of obsolete words and phrases, or in his happy invention of new collocations. As these are invariably conceived and expressed in the spirit of the original Arabic, they present to our mind the aspect of beauties rather than blemishes, and indisputably add to the Oriental flavour of this fine translation. The notes are in themselves a liberal education in respect of Persian and Arabian manners and customs, old and new.

Bat, February 8th, 1887.

The most marvellous collection of stories in the world is for the first time placed before the English readers. Positively for the first time. Those who know the Arabian Nights, through the charming, but ludicrously unoriental, paraphrase of Galland, or through the solid, and perhaps slightly stolid, rendering of Lane, cannot be said to know the Arabian Nights at all. It would be indeed a thousand pities if such a book as Sir Richard has made were to be entirely tabooed to the world at large and to women. The matchless wealth of fancy of the Arabian Nights, the amazing wealth of knowledge which Sir Richard Burton has accumulated about it, the glowing virile prose in which these Eastern tales have been imbued with a new vitality, all these should be the possession, not of a poor thousand students and scholars, but of all the myriad readers of books who speak the English speech * * * Now, for the first time, all that enchanted Eastern world is open to everyone. Jean Paul Richter, most delightful of German writers, has dwelt, in his great essay on education, on the importance of Oriental fiction in the education of the young. It is easy to imagine the delight with which he would have welcomed the masterpieces of Oriental fancy which have now, for the first time, been placed within the reach of all who care to read.

The reader passes at once into the most exquisite world of fancy, where enchanted princesses, caliphs and mock caliphs, wizards, ghouls, jinns, barmecides, kalandars, sultans, slaves, mullahs, and dancing-girls jostle one another in a mad merry world of their own, by the yellow Nile or the yellow Tigris. All the life of the East—vivid, passionate, fantastic, poetic—lives in these entrancing pages, and the reader who knows them, and knows them well, knows more about oriental life and oriental thought than many who have passed half their lives in Cairo or Bagdad.

Morning Post, February 14th, 1886.

In the volume under notice are comprised the tales from the 78th to the 275th night inclusive. They are remarkable for their originality and poetic sentiment, and the spirit of chivalry which animates the heroes. The tales of birds and beasts are fables containing a wholesome moral.

Morning Advertiser, February 26th, 1887.

The poetic imagery of the Arabic masterpiece is presented in all its naive and native charm, almost as far as such a thing is possible, when we remember the immense gulf which sunders the ideas and tongues of the Orients from our own mental methods and modes of speech. The use of rhymed prose by the translator is most judicious, and enhances the impression produced by the Arabic simile and metaphor, as in the following, where Sulayman Shah prepares to send forth his Wazir to sue for the hand of the daughter of Zahr Shah:—“Then he hied to his own house and bade make ready presents befitting Kings, of precious stones and things of price, and other matters light of load but weighty of worth, besides Arab steeds and coats of mail, such as David made, and chests of treasure for which speech hath no measure.” Again we find the same use of rhyme in the Wazir’s mention to the celibate King of the charms of the Princess:—“Know, O King, it hath come to my knowledge that King Zahr Shah, Lord of the White Land, hath a daughter of surpassing loveliness, whose charms talk and tale fail to express. She hath not her equal in this age, for she is perfect in proportion and symmetry, blackeyed as if kohl-dyed and long-locked, wee of waist and full of form.” The couplets in which many of the characters after composing their minds unbind their tongues puts the resources of the Queen’s English to some strain. Here is a specimen of how the emissary of Sulayman Shah “displayed the oratory of Wazirs and saluted the King in the language of eloquence.” When it is remembered, however, that the Arabic verse is improvised, we can afford to be charitable to the not unsuccessful effort of the translator, who has no small difficulties to cope with. It runs as follows:—

He cometh robed and bending gracefully:

O’er face and figure dews of grace sheds he:

He charms: nor characts, spells, nor grammarye

May fend the glances of those eyne from thee.

O heart! th’ art not the sole that loveth him,

So live with him while I desertion dree.

There’s naught to joy mine eyes with joyous sound

Save praise of King Zahr Shah in jubilee:
A King! albeit thou leave thy life to win
One look, that look were all sufficiency;
And if a pious prayer thou breathe for him,
Shall join all faithful in such pious gree:

Folk of his realm! If any shirk his right for other hoping, gross unfaith I see.

Still, though the English is a little quaint, and every period in the history of the language is laid under contribution to supply material of verbiage, this very circumstance heightens the effect upon the mind of the reader of the strange scenery, the bizarre situation, and the eccentricity—according to our notions—of the characters? * * * Men who as children have revelled in this narrative of wonders, and then accepted them with implicit and ingenuous trust, will return to it again to find light shed on the customs and manners of the East. The very instructive notes elucidate the text, and so the reader may, as he peruses, not only discover delight for his fancy, but gain information about the social life of lands which, though the Western world has varied and altered over and over again, have for ages remained in their main social features unchanged so much so as to lead many observers to regard them as unchangeable. Down at the bottom of all we read, however, the great truth that human nature is much the same all the world over, and in all ages, in its joys and griefs, its gratifications and its heartburnings.

Army and Navy Gazette, February 26th, 1887.

Sir Richard Burton was a bold man when he wrote, and the Kamashastra Society of Benares was a bold society when it printed his great translation of the Arabian Nights. Yet the boldness of both has been amply justified, for never before was the golden prime of the Caliphs of Baghdad, with all its Oriental colour, brought so vividly before the reading public. Nor could any demur be made justly to the book, as the issue of a private press, because of the indelicacy, not to say pruriency, that characterised it, since it is plainly inconsistent to judge the morals of one age by the standard of another, and this translation of “The Thousand Nights and a Night” was intended not only to make accessible the great work of Arabian fiction, but also to illustrate the social conditions of those for whom it was composed. It must be remembered, moreover, that in these days refinement has progressed so rapidly that the books even which delighted our grandmothers have become too indelicate for the family circle; and, if we go on in the same direction, it is certain that ere long Swinburne will be Bowdlerised, and fifty years hence who can say that the Laureate himself will escape? There could have been no more fitting translator for the Arabian Nights than Sir Richard Burton, who is as much at home in Eastern bazaars as the very disciples of the Prophet, who has himself made the pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and to Meccah, and who, as the result of a vast experience of all phases of Oriental life, has been able to enter into the very spirit of the wondrous Arab tales. In comparing his work with that of his best predecessors, in the translation, Mr. John Payne and Mr. E. W. Lane, becomes speedily apparent that the former was weak as a linguist, while the latter driven thereto by the necessity of making a book for the family circle, used his pruning-knife much too freely, and cut out some of the very best pieces—notably, the major part of the excellent story, which is of great length, of King Omar bin al-Nu’uman and his Sons, whereof he has preserved but two small episodes. Another great advantage which Sir Richard Burton possesses over other translators is his exquisite sense of the delicate beauty of Arabic poetry, which has enabled him to preserve in his graceful rendering of the many verses scattered through the stories, much of the character of Oriental assonance and rhythm. We take an example, almost at random, from the first volume:—

“Shall the beautiful hue of the Basil fail,
Tho’ the beetle’s foot over the Basil crawl?
And though spider and fly be its denizens,
Shall disgrace attach to the royal hall?
The cowrie, I ken, shall have currency,

But the pearl’s clear drop,—shall its value fall?”

Fun, March 2nd, 1887.

We readily repeat our expression of the high estimation in which we hold the superiority of this translation over all others. Many stories are included which have hitherto been left untold.

Bookseller, March 4th, 1887.

The progress of this charming work continues apace, in the appearance of a further volume going down to the “Five Hundred and Fifty-Seventh Night” of Shahrazad’s world-famous tales. Within the limits of the new instalment will be found several old favourites, such as Harun Al-Rashid and the Slave Girl, The Ebony (Flying) Horse, and The Voyages of Sindbad the Sailor. Sir Richard Burton’s notes which liberally accompany the text, are by no means the least entertaining portion of the book, leading, as they do, to many suggestive comparisons with Scriptural and mythological analogies, and to points of etymology as curious as they are instructive. The story of the “Death-Angel and the Rich King,” by the way, is so closely akin to the Parables of the Rich Fool and the Unjust Steward of the Gospels, that it is difficult to believe that they did not serve as the original of the Arabian counterpart.

Allen’s Indian Mail, March 7th, 1887.

On reading the first volume again and again the reflection occurred, how little—how very little—the general public know, as to the tales of which the name is familiar in every circle of society. Still more does this fact force itself into notice in the second volume. Not a story do we meet which bears a name linked with the memoirs of youth or the recollections of early age. What is the explanation? Are all the tales, which for generation after generation, have played their part in the nursery, merely idle dreams of a fanciful edition of the Thousand and One Nights or are the well-known stories reserved for the last? We cannot say: but we avow with some trepidation, that we have not hitherto met with a single friendly face amongst the two hundred and fifty divisions as yet presented to the public.

If, however, we have expected against expectation for some landmark to show us the road whereon we are travelling, it must notwithstanding, be avowed that in the present continuation of the tales there is much to interest, and perhaps more to instruct. Apart from this, there is such vast array of wisdom contained in this storehouse of experience and knowledge that the world should be wise, and, therefore, happier in learning what dangers to avoid, what virtues to cultivate, what vices to eradicate. Then, too, as regards the notes by Sir Richard Burton. It would be impossible to exaggerate their worth, their depth, or the insight that they afford into the inner life of the Arabian natives, a life of which so little is known, though so much is talked—a life which has much to recommend it—albeit Exeter Hall is loud in its dispraise, and the advocates of women’s rights are passionate in denunciation thereof. Like all other nations the people of the East have their faults, but who are they which presume to cast the first stone?

Lunes, January 3rd, 1887.

Few people know anything of the trouble and the travelling which Sir Richard Burton has undertaken in the accomplishment of his tremendous task. He has ransacked all the libraries of the East and West, and has often undertaken a roving but idle quest in the hope of throwing clearer light on a single disputed passage. His profound acquaintance with Oriental languages and literature is shown at every turn, and, preserving the romantic colouring of the original in a poetic rhythm of expression, he has cast his finished version in a form which is singularly picturesque.

Allen’s Indian Mail, January 17th, 1887.

The reason is not far to seek, since there never has been a really good translation of this most untranslateable of Oriental works. From such a sweeping assertion must be excluded the happy and successful effort of Mr. John Payne; but this latter work was printed for the Villon Society, and the issue being restricted to five hundred copies, while the author bound himself “not to reproduce the work in its complete form,” the version is and must ever be “caviare to the general.” Such being the case Sir Richard Burton bethought himself that he would employ his leisure hours in presenting to the public a trustworthy and withal picturesque translation of the Thousand and One Nights: and who more fitted for such task? * * * * We have no hesitation in pronouncing the present version of the Arabian Nights to be incontestably the best extant. Perfection is not given to mortals, but the tales now appear in as satisfactory a garb as is possible; and henceforth there will be no excuse should the English public fail to become familiar with a work which all should read—the time-honoured Thousand and One Nights.

Liverpool Mercury, March 26th, 1887.

We have read with mingled admiration and delight every line of Sir Richard Burton’s wonderful rendering of the world-famous but never till now adequately translated Thousand Nights and a Night. * * * * At the same time, in any literal reproduction of the ancient folk-stories of a race having different customs and modes of thought to our own there must necessarily be passages which are unsuited to modern English tastes. * * * The first writer who undertook to introduce the Nights to Europe was M. Galland, a Frenchman who made Arabic his study, and travelled not a little in the Eastern countries which border on the Mediterranean close upon two centuries ago. What he did, however, was not to translate the entire work, or even one-half of it, but to paraphrase certain selections from it, to add other stories of Eastern origin thereto, and to dress up the whole in a composite literary style which reflected the French tastes of the time far more accurately than those of the Arab tribes from whose romantic folk-lore he drew his inspiration. Other labourers in the same field—and there have been many—have but too faithfully followed upon the lines laid down by M. Galland. Until quite lately the best European paraphrase of the Nights was that of the late distinguished Orientalist, Lane; but even he took an abbreviated edition of the original as his standard, and, while omitting at least one-third of the stories which it contained, failed altogether to reproduce the distinctive characteristics of the remainder.

This being so, Captain Sir Richard Burton, in the interests of Oriental scholarship—which he rightly judges to be nowhere more important than among a people who have so vast an Eastern empire to govern and safeguard as we have—has for years past been engaged upon a literal translation of the Nights which should be worthy at once of the original sources from which it was taken and of his own hard-earned reputation. At the very time that he was putting the finishing touches to his work and preparing for publication, however, he learnt by accident that Mr. John Payne had undertaken for the Villon Society a precisely similar task. Upon that Sir Richard, with characteristic chivalry, stood aside, and allowed Mr. Payne to have the advantage of prior publication; we mean, of course, such publication as he himself contemplated and the Villon Society contents itself with—the issue, that is, of a strictly limited number of copies supplied to subscribers only. Of his rival’s translation Sir Richard Burton, with the enthusiasm of a true scholar, says, “It is most readable; his (Mr. Payne’s) English, with a sub-flavour of Mabinogionic archaism, is admirable, and his style gives life and light to the nine volumes whose matter is frequently heavy enough; he succeeds admirably in the most difficult passages, and he often hits upon choice and special terms and the exact vernacular equivalent of the foreign word, so happily and so picturesquely that all future translators must perforce use the same expression under pain of falling far short.” Nevertheless, though coming four or five years afterwards, Sir Richard’s own edition fairly takes the field, and is likely, we should say, to hold it permanently against all future comers. The notes alone carry it to a point of perfection hitherto unattained. It is the work of a man better qualified for the task than any other living being. On the one hand, we know of no one who is so thoroughly imbued with the spirit and soaked in the traditions of Arab life as the traveller who, disguised as an Arab, succeeded in making the pilgrimage to Mecca without detection; on the other, we know of no translator who has at his command such an amazing vocabulary of English words wherewith to reflect every shade of meaning, every turn of phrase, every subtile touch of literary colour in the language from which he translates. As illustrating his mastery of the secrets both of Arab life and of picturesque English, take the following passage from his “Foreword.” He is speaking of the solace and satisfaction which he derived from working upon his translation of the Nights during his long years of official banishment to the luxuriant and deadly deserts of Western Africa, and to the dull and dreary half-clearings of South America.

“From my commonplace and ‘respectable’ surroundings (he says) the Jinn bore me at once to the land of my predilection, Arabia—a region so familiar to my mind that even at first sight it seemed a reminiscence of some bygone metemphysic life in the distant past. Again I stood under the diaphanous skies in air glorious as ether, whose every breath raises men’s spirits like sparkling wine. Once more I saw the evening star hanging like a solitaire from the pure front of the western firmament; and the after-glow transfiguring and transforming, as if by magic, the homely and rugged features of the scene into a fairy-land, lit with a light which never shines on other soils or seas. Then would appear the woollen tents, low and black, of the true Bedawin, mere dots in the boundless waste of lion-tawny clays and gazelle-brown gravels, and the camp fire dotting like a glowworm the village centre. Presently, sweetened by distance, would be heard the wild weird song of lads and lasses, driving, or rather pelting, through the gloaming their sheep and goats; and the measured chant of the spearmen gravely stalking behind their charge, the camels; mingled with the bleating of the flocks and the bellowing of the humpy herds; while the reremouse flitted overhead with his tiny shriek, and the rave of the jackal resounded through deepening glooms, and—most musical of music—the palm-trees answered the whispers of the night-breeze with the softest tones of falling water. And then a shift of scene. The Shaykhs and ‘White-beards’ of the tribe gravely take their places, sitting with outspread skirts like hillocks on the plain, as the Arabs say, around the camp-fire, whilst I reward their hospitality and secure its continuance by reading or reciting a few pages of their favourite tales. The women and children stand motionless as silhouettes outside the ring, and all are breathless with attention; they seem to drink in the words with eyes and mouths as well as with ears. The most fantastic lights of fancy, the wildest improbabilities, the most impossible of impossibilities, appear to them utterly natural—mere matters of every-day occurrence. They enter thoroughly into each phase of feeling touched upon by the author; they take a personal pride in the chivalrous nature and knightly prowess of Taj al-Mulúk; they are touched with tenderness by the self-sacrificing love of Azizah; their mouths water as they hear of heaps of untold gold given away in largesse like clay; they chuckle with delight every time a Kázir or a Fakír—a judge or a reverend—is scurvily entreated by some Pantagruelist of the Wilderness; and, despite their normal solemnity and impassibility, all roar with laughter, sometimes rolling upon the ground till the reader’s gravity is sorely tried, at the tales of the garrulous Barber and of Ali and the Kurdish sharper.”

Clearly an Englishman who can thus hold an Arab encampment spell-bound by reciting to them their own folk-stories in their own tongue has at least one indisputable qualification for translating the famous collection of these stories embodied in the “Alf Laylah wa Laylah”—the “Thousand Nights and a Night.”

But this is not all. Sir Richard Burton has a literary conscience which craves to be satisfied, and an imitative faculty, supported by exhaustless wealth and ingenuity of expression, capable of satisfying it. Not content with giving us a faithful transcript both of the matter and of the informing spirit of the great Arabian Saga-book, he is careful to reproduce for us even its mechanism and its music—its peculiarities of structure, the balance of its sentences, the rhyme, the rhythm, the assonances, the cadences, the melody, the lilt, the very jingle of its language. How necessary all this is to the preservation of what may be termed the literary flavour of the original may be gathered from the first few lines upon which we light on turning to a page at random. A king sending gifts and a missive to another king by his wazir commands that functionary “to shorten his skirts and strain his strength and make all expedition in going and returning. ‘Hearkening and obedience!’ quoth the minister, who fell to making ready without stay, and packed up his loads and prepared all his requisites without delay. This occupied him three days, and on the dawn of the fourth he took leave of his king and marched right away, over desert and hill-way, stony waste and pleasant lea, without halting by night or day,” and so on—in which passage, as one sees, the recurrence of the same consonantal sounds, and of rhyming and nearly rhyming words at irregular distances gives a distinctive character to the style of the narrative. Many other passages might be quoted in illustration of similar tricks and subtleties of literary skill, which impart an additional charm to the book, if for no other reason, because they are racy of the soil from which it sprang, and give an air of greater vraisemblance to the translation. But the space at our disposal is well-nigh exhausted, and we are desirous of giving just one quotation from Sir Richard Burton’s “Foreword” as to the matter of the Nights.

“The general tone” (he writes) “is exceptionally high and pure. The devotional feeling often rises to the boiling point of fanaticism. The pathos is sweet, deep and genuine: tender, simple, and true; utterly unlike much of our modern tinsel. Its life, strong, splendid, and multitudinous, is everywhere flavoured with that unaffected pessimism and constitutional melancholy which strike deepest root under the brightest skies, and which sigh in the face of heaven. Poetical justice is administered by the literary Kázi with exemplary impartiality and severity, ‘denouncing evil-doers and eulogising deeds admirably achieved.’ The morale is sound and healthy, and at times we descry vistas of a transcendental morality, the morality of Socrates or Plato. It is, indeed, this unique contrast of a quaint element childish crudities, jostling the finest and highest views of life and character, shown in the kaleidoscopic shiftings of the marvellous picture with many a ‘rich truth in a tale’s pretence,’ pointed by a rough, dry humour which compares well with ‘wut;’ the alternatives of strength and weakness; of pathos and bathos; of boldest poetry (the diction of Job) and the baldest prose (the Egyptian of to-day); and, finally, the whole dominated everywhere by that marvellous Oriental fancy wherein the spiritual and the supernatural are as common as the material and the natural; it is this contrast, I say, which forms the chiefest charm of the Nights, which gives it the most striking originality, and which makes it a perfect expositor of the mediæval Moslem mind.”

The Academy, March 12th, 1887.

The second volume contains inter alia, the delightful story of Prince Camaralzaman and the Princess Badr ool Budoor, which loses none of its old charm as “The Tale of Kamar al-Zaman,” and gains incalculably by being translated into Sir Richard Burton’s rich, quaint, and picturesque English. The third volume brings another, and a still more familiar favourite, in the story of “Sindbad the Seaman and Sindbad the Landsman,” told with a force and vivacity which make it all seem as true as it seemed in the days of our credulous childhood. In both volumes we find a large number of minor tales which are not included in Lane’s edition; as, for instance, the stories of four chiefs of police, and a whole series of charming fables about beasts, and “other small game.” The long chivalric history of “King Omar bin al-Nu’uman and his sons, Sharrkan and Zau al-Makan” (also one of those omitted by Lane), is a distinct gain in a collection so complete and extensive as the present. As regards Sir Richard Burton’s dramatis personæ, treatment and style, we need only say that his foul fiends and ancient duennas are more variously hideous, his couplets more steeped in Oriental passion, his descriptive passages more elaborately rhythmic than ever; while the foot-notes are so interesting and full of information that one only regrets that they are so sparingly inserted.

Manchester Examiner, March 16th, 1887.

Whatever differences of opinion there may be concerning the translator’s taste or judgment, all will agree that the work in its complete form is emphatically a student’s book—that in the mind of the general reading public it is an impossibility to reproduce the naïf simplicity with which the story-tellers of an earlier age and a warmer clime treated those incidents which a contemporary essayist has happily termed “the enclosed facts of life.” Concerning the original, it is not necessary to speak at length. The Arabian Nights is one of the great books of the world, and as a revelation of the outer and inner life of the Orient is quite unique, but it is only during quite recent years that the general reader has had any opportunity of knowing the full extent of its riches. True, English translations have been common enough for the last century, but they have been, for the most part taken, not immediately from the Arabic, but immediately through a French reproduction, often so garbled in substance, and in form as to convey nothing like a voracious impression of the original. Of late, however, serious study of Arabic has become more common among English scholars, and we have at least three translations—those of Mr. John Payne, of Mr. Lane, and of Sir Richard Burton—not one of which can be charged with doing injustice to the great classic. As a mere translations each will have its supporters, and it would be absurd for a critic who is unacquainted with Arabic to say that this or that is the best; but it may be urged on behalf of Sir Richard Burton that he is more than a mere translator, that he is an accomplished Orientalist, and that the best years of his life have been spent among the very scenes with which the ancient romancers deal. Then, too, his personal idiosyncrasy is such that he can enter easily, naturally, and without any strain into the life of which the stories are a crowded panorama, can breathe the spirit of the times and manners, and reproduce it in such wise that we can breathe it too. It is no exaggeration to say that he possesses unique qualifications for the task he has so laboriously and adequately performed.

County Gentleman, March 19th, 1887.

Volume III. consists of no less than 83 tales, which bring down the marvellous sequence of stories invented in self-defence by “the liberator of her sex” to the 557th night. Of these tales, while many of the less familiar are full of beauty and suggestiveness, the last, relating the wonderful adventures of Sindbad the Seaman will be welcomed as an old and much-esteemed friend. The old friend, too, though he does not come to us with exactly a new face, offers to our charmed recognition a face much brightened and beautified, and decked with the goodly raiment of Sir Richard Burton’s inimitable translation. Many of the tales are very short, but some of the shortest are really the most delightful. Take, for example, the one recording the generous dealing of Yahya, son of Khalid, with a convicted forger, and the one referring to the Caliph Al-Maamun and the Strange Scholar. The directness and forceful simplicity of these brief narratives, which would merit a high place in any collection of succinct apologues of the virtues, as well as the almost Christianity of their teaching, cannot fail to impress any discerning reader. The note on page 58 to the first of these tales is one of similar commentaries throwing light upon Eastern customs and institutions. At the same time it marks the continuity of Oriental political ideas.

Army and Navy Gazette, March 27th, 1887.

This volume, bringing us down to the 557th night, and to the fifth voyage of Sindbad the Seaman, includes a large number of stories quite new to the reader, some of them brimful of humour, and others most interesting from many points of view, from which it would be easy to quote endless readable items. Harun al-Rashid, Al-Maamun, Isaac of Mosul, and Ja’afar the Barmecide figure here very often; but more amusement is to be derived from the doings of lesser people, as, for example, the sharp-witted vagabonds who generally escape the chastisement they deserve by some ingenious trick, such as the Oriental mind delights in. The story of Al-Maamun and the Pyramids of Egypt (omitted by Lane) illustrates the mediæval Arabic view of those monuments—viz., that they were rich treasure-houses, which it was desirable to plunder if possible; and there are other tales dealing with crusading times, and with the relations of Christians and Moslems. One great charm of these stories is their endless variety, which prevents them from ever becoming monotonous, and Sir Richard Burton’s English has a quaint and sometimes quite archaic cast which accords well with his subject. As we said, in speaking of the earlier volumes, this is by far the best translation of the Nights for general reading, and we are sure, in its present handsome form, it will find a place on most library shelves.

Liverpool Mercury, March 31st, 1887.

Then Sir Richard goes on to tell us all about the origin of the Nights, their birth-place, and their probable date; the means by which, and the strangely incomplete and inaccurate forms in which they found their way into Europe; the matter and the manner of the Nights, the social condition of Al-Islam which they disclose, and the peculiarities of the prose-rhyme and poetry in which they are written. The work—translation and commentary alike—is done throughout with the thoroughness which characterises everything Sir Richard Burton takes in hand; and, in the result, we have such a conspectus of Arab life, Arab thought, and Arab literature as could only have proceeded from the mind of one who years ago was so soaked in Arabian customs and traditions as to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, in the character of a good Moslem, without detection. A complete index to the tales and proper names, and a bibliography of all the principal editions of the Nights, fittingly round off a work which, as it can never be superseded, must inevitably take its place among the few achievements of human effort from which Time reverently withholds his destroying hand.

Christian Union, April, 1887.

Those who are at all conversant with the old productions of this work will readily discover the distinctive difference and characteristic features of Sir Richard F. Burton’s translation, that it excels in originality, style, and graphicness all other editions of the Arabian Nights. No one who has read the work will hesitate to accept. Regard it in whatever aspect we will, it is unique in its production, and will henceforth take the precedence of all other translations.

Morning Advertiser, April 8th, 1887.

As pointed out in previous notices of this admirable work, it possesses many charms which have hitherto been lost to European readers by the manner in which the tales have been presented to them in the current versions of the narratives. Although these stories, among many other collections, have been in circulation for ages through the East, they have not yet been known in Europe for two hundred years. They were first introduced into Christendom, indeed, by means of the translation of Antoine Galland, a distinguished French Orientalist. They were, as a matter of course, everywhere hailed with delight, although, with perhaps rare exceptions, until the appearance of Lane’s edition, the many translations of the tales into European languages, merely gave the narratives themselves. The numerous and ample notes and philological comparisons, which are profusely scattered through it, and which serve to convey the exact meaning of important words in the text, are not only most interesting in themselves, but are often of indispensable necessity to the grasping of the point of the story. Several examples of this will again be found in the present volume. In some places the translator is completely at variance with Lane, who appears, in the instances cited, to have missed the point of the story, from a misapprehension of the true signification of an important word. A remarkable example of the extent to which the force of the narrative is seen to depend on the skill of the translator, occurs in the story of “the Illiterate, who sit up as a teacher,” in which it is remarked in a foot-note, that Lane appears to have mistaken for a girdle, a word which simply means the usual brazier for the charcoal which serves for a fire, and so to have missed the whole point of the tale. In this volume will also be seen several fine examples of the rhymed prose, which form one of the great beauties of the work. The translations of the many pieces of Eastern poetry which adorn the tales, are most elegant and felicitous. They are also most unique in their character. In many instances obsolete words have been introduced with wonderfully pleasing effect, and in other Saxon words and Saxon locutions in close relation with modern German, from their immediate connexion with the text, the notes are full of learning—geographical, philological, and antiquarian—which contains an immense body of useful knowledge on the matters to which they relate.

Daily News, April 28th, 1887.

The present volume contains not many of our old friends, like “Aladdin” and the “Forty Thieves,” but is rich in those Oriental stories of beasts, which often much resemble the romances of “Uncle Remus.” The tale of the Animals and the Son of Adam, if one remembers correctly, does come, with a difference, in “Uncle Remus.” As an example of the value and interest of the notes, may be cited the remarks on the “lucky signs,” which add to the value of horses. Mohammed disliked horses with white stockings on alternate hoofs. The tale of the Wolf and the Fox is again in Uncle Remus’s style. It is a very difficult thing to account for the migration of these stories. Even the bushmen have a version of vestigia nulla retrorsum, and Professor Hartt was told similar fables by the Indians of the Amazon. Huet, Bishop of Avranches, knew that such stories were current among the Hurons and Iroquois, whose hero, if not exactly Brer Rabbit, is usually Brer Hare. The Sawahílis, also, make an animal very like a rabbit take the best parts. Occasionally, the translation itself needs notes for some readers, who may ask what the Fox means when he sings of the Wolf that “garred me drain eisel and fell.” It will interest some mythologists to know that dawn, in Persian, is called by a name meaning “Wolf’s tail.” Prince Kamar al-Zaman is in this volume in all his glory, compared to which, that of Solomon was mere tinsel. Probably only Orientalists can properly estimate the labour and erudition of these Arabian Nights. The notes on the Diamond Valley, and the Roc, and other pleasant marvels are very instructive. The following note is curious. We say melanchólia, with the accent on the o: the Arabs say Malikhulíya, with the accent on the penultimate, and probably, or rather certainly, the Greeks from who we both borrowed the word did the same, as the Greek accent indicates. But how they read their own poetry, on this system, who can explain or understand?

Spectator, April 2, 1887.

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.

Sir Richard Burton has certainly conferred a great boon on the reading public, great and small, by this edition of The Arabian Nights. The Arabian Nights has hitherto been known to us chiefly as Aristotle is said to have been known to the Schoolmen, in a translation of a translation. The work of Galland, a Frenchman who was, according to Lane and Burton, not over well-skilled in Arabic, and who knew little of Arabic manners and customs, has hitherto, in various translations and adaptations, been the source of popular knowledge of The Arabian Nights. Lane’s own translation was a little too much like Sir Richard Burton’s magnum opus, in being too close to the original for modern manners or drawing room use. And, to tell the truth, it is also a trifle bald and dull. Moreover, it is disfigured to the ordinary eye, much like Grote’s Greece, by uncouth renderings of more or less familiar names. It is terrible, for instance, to see Aziz and Azizah rendered by Azeez and Azeezah, to find Sindbad converted into es-Sindhibad, and our old friend the Vizier turned into a Weezer; and to be encountered on every page by some terrible Arabic word for the meaning of which you have to refer to notes, those torments of the interested reader. Sir Richard Burton indeed, does not wholly spare our old friends. But Wazir for Vizier is better than Weezer; and while Lane converts Noureddin and the fair Persian into Noor ed-Deen and Enees-al-Jalees, Sir Richard Burton only goes so far as Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis. The most striking novelty in this translation is the preservation of the rhymed prose, a jingle of assonance running through the more lively passages, particularly where love or fighting are concerned. Thus, in the Second Kalendar’s tale, we have,—“Her figure measured five feet in height: her form was firm and upright: her cheek a very garden of delight: her colour lively bright: her face gleamed like dawn through curly tresses which gloomed like night;” and when Sharrkan, the Moslem cavalier fights the Franks, “they fell to fighting and to wheeling left and right, and necks were stretched out to see the sight, nor did they stint from strife and sword-play, and lunge of lance with main and might, till the day turned to night and darkness overwhelmed the light.” Taken in connection with the context, the effect, though strange and bizarre, is not unpleasing, and gives a sense of something outlandish which accords well with the subject. Another novelty is the translation into verse of the verses copiously scattered about the stories, which have hitherto been omitted or turned into prose. It must be admitted that these verses are rather boring. They are mostly of the ultra-sentimental and “high falutin’” order, with exaggerated sentiment and metaphors. Here is a sample:—

“Had we known of thy coming, we fain had dispread ✿ the cores of our hearts or the balls of our eyes:

Our cheeks as a carpet to greet thee had thrown, ✿ and our eyelids had strown for thy feet to betread.”

Some of them, however, are pretty enough in feeling and expression. But the translator has invented a barbarous expedient for plaguing the reader, and preventing his taking them quickly, by placing an asterisk in the middle of each line to represent the couplets of the original. As he does not really retain the metres of the original, there is no valid excuse for thus disfiguring the page and trying the reader’s temper, and we sincerely hope that, if not for later volumes, at all events for later editions, he will abandon this excruciating invention.

With this exception, there is no doubt that this is the most readable as well as the most complete, or probably because it is the most complete, version of The Arabian Nights yet produced. In this first volume we have our old friends the Porter and the three Ladies of Baghdad, with the three Kalendars, the Hunchback, and the silent Barber. But one of the most striking of the stories has not appeared in any former edition,—the tale, namely, of King Omar bin al-Nu’uman and his sons. This is a Moslem chivalrous romance, with all the characteristics of a mediæval romance founded on the Crusades; but, of course, the facts are reversed. Instead of a Christian knight falling in love with a Moslem maiden, and slaughtering her kith and kin by thousands and defeating their treacherous attempts at murder by violence and stealth, by ambuscade and poison, the hero is a Moslem prince and knight, and the heroine is a Christian maiden, and the villains and villainesses are all Christians, and it is the Christians who are slaughtered in their thousands by his single arm. As in the Christian romances, too, the plot wanders off from episode to episode, and, it must be admitted, becomes insufferably tedious, for before the end the grandchildren of the original hero are become the principal personages of the tale. But the leading incident and the opening episode of Sharrkan and Abrizah are worthy to rank with the tales of Sigurd and Brynhild. In fact, it may be questioned whether there is any personage in mediæval romance who outshines the fair Amazonian Abrizah in purity and nobility of womanly character, or any more devoted and chivalrous lover than Sharrkan. But the story does not remain throughout at the same high level, and the fate of Aurora Leigh, which is inflicted on Abrizah by Sharrkan’s father (only darkly hinted at in this edition), and her death by the hands of a negro slave, and the horribly Eastern sufferings that befall Nuzhat al-Zaman, are worse than those which befell the heroines of Western tales of chivalry, bad as they often are. It would be interesting to know the origin of this story, which certainly strikes one as out of its place in the Thousand Nights and a Night; for though its adventures are many of them exaggerated and improbable, yet they are more casually connected, more coherent, and more natural and human and less inverted, than the weird and monstrous incidents of the true Arabian tales. Among these stand conspicuous the Third Kalendar’s tale, with its Loadstone Mountain and its man of brass, its castle plated with red gold, and the inevitable decree of blind Fate; the First Lady’s tale, with its city of stone men; and above all, the delightful tale of the Fisherman and the Ifreet,—the enchanted city with its King turned into marble from the waist downwards, and its citizens into white, red, blue, and yellow fishes that lift up their heads from the frying-pan and recite “verses in writing.” Assuredly the tales that used to charm one’s childhood have no less charm with the added anthropological interest which is lent them by Sir Richard Burton’s translation and notes.

County Gentleman, May 14th, 1887.

The well-known and widely appreciated yarns of Sindbad the Seaman and Sindbad the Landsman are brought to a conclusion. The less familiar but most powerful and typically Oriental story “The City of Brass” follows and, though we are far from wishing to join the yelping pack already at Mr. Haggard’s heels, readers of this colossal conception will feel inclined to agree with Solomon that “there is nothing new under the sun.”

Army and Navy Gazette, May 14th, 1887.

The present volume brings us up to the 761st “night,” and, like its predecessors, contains a number of stories quite unknown to the general reader. It concludes the history of Sindbad, giving a variant rendering, from the Calcutta edition, of the seventh voyage, and contains a large number of stories concerning the “Craft and Malice of Women,” which are of the highest value as illustrations of social conditions, and it has besides, many tales to which it would be a pleasure to allude individually. * * * As a translation, it is unequalled in fidelity, and Sir Richard Burton’s familiarity with Oriental scenes has enabled him to preserve the greater part of the quaint flavour of the original.

Liverpool Mercury, August 24th, 1887.

We have already fully described this latest edition of the Arabian Nights and have spoken at large of its merits, both as a singularly faithful translation and a finished work of high literary art. It is the only rendering of The Nights which has any pretentions to literalness and completeness, and in this and all other respects is far away the best edition extant.

Army and Navy Gazette, August 27th, 1887.

Bringing us up to the 944th night, this volume includes the curious tale of the “Man of Upper Egypt and his Frankish Wife,” and others omitted by Lane. One of the most characteristic of these is that of “King Jali’ad of Hind and his Wazir Shimas,” which belongs to the oldest series in The Nights and has attached to it a number of animal and other fables, all very remarkable. Lane found the story “puerile,” and it is very true that from many points of view, it is so; but as an illustration of the ways of Arabian society and an example of a class of stories largely circulated amongst the Oriental peoples of that date, it cannot be overlooked, and if read in the proper appreciative spirit, it is by no means devoid of amusement. The style of the translation, as we have previously remarked, has a strange archaic charm, and the unusual locutions of which Sir Richard Burton is master, harmonize admirably with his subject, while the rhythmic portions, which he has reproduced with so much skill and diversify, render still more picturesque the whole.

Morning Advertiser, October 12th, 1887.

Several of the stories comprised in this latter group are familiar under other forms in most parts of Europe, and there are few of them which do not embody the practical wisdom and the sound and generous moral precepts which are, as a rule, characteristic of the Arabian Nights. Taken in conjunction with the numerous and excellent notes which the translator has supplied, this version as we have before had occasion to observe, presents the exact sense of the original Arabic text, which the fanciful phraseology in which the narratives are expressed largely assists in realising, while lending an additional charm to the tales themselves. * * * In this volume are contained, among others, the stories of Hasan of Bassorah, of Khalifah the Fisherman of Baghdad, of Ali Nur Al-Din and Miriam the Girdle Girl, of the Man of Upper Egypt and his Frankish Wife, of the Ruined Man of Baghdad and his Slave-Girl, and the long series of tales, fables and allegories, in which the astrologers and other wise men variously interpret a dream which had disturbed the great King Jali’ad of Hind, and on which he had consulted them. Several of the stories comprised in this latter group are familiar under other forms in most parts of Europe, and there are few of them which do not embody the practical wisdom and the sound and generous moral precepts which are, as a rule, characteristic of the Arabian Nights. The volume contains also the interesting history of King Wird Khan, with his women and Wazirs. This monarch was weak and uxorious, and disregarding the sage counsels of Shimas, the chief of his Wazirs, pursued a profligate and effeminate career, as the result of which great troubles arose in his realm, and an extensive conspiracy was formed to get rid of him. Acting on the suggestion of his favourite wife, he caused his Wazirs, grandees, and notables to be put to death after the fashion of Eastern despots. The weakness to which his kingdom was thus reduced tempted aggression by a neighbouring king, and it was threatened with immediate invasion, rapine, and slaughter. From this strait he was delivered by the sagacity of a boy whom he had accidentally fallen in with in the course of a stroll he made incog. one evening through his capital whilst pondering over his desperate position. The stories introduced in the course of the history contain the counsel offered him in the successive stages of his difficulty, through which he is at length conducted in safety and then returns to a more rational course of life. Lane omits this story as being exceedingly puerile. That judgment will hardly be supported by the reader when he now reads it. It is one of the two oldest tales in the whole series of the Arabian Nights as is here pointed out, and at the same time very characteristic. Taken in conjunction with the numerous and excellent notes here supplied, this version, as we have before had occasion to observe, presents the exact sense of the original Arabic text, which the fanciful phraseology in which the narrative are expressed largely assists in realising, while lending an additional charm to the tales themselves.

Glasgow Evening Times, December 3, 1887.

The third of the five Supplemental volumes of Sir Richard Burton’s translation of The Thousand Nights and a Night is in the hands of the subscribers this week. It is one of the most interesting, and (we have Sir Richard’s word for it) the most innocent of the series. It contains some of the best known of the Eastern tales, including “Aladdin” and “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” which did not find a place either in Sir Richard Burton’s translation of the Nights or in that of Mr. John Payne for the Villon Society, for the very good reason that they were then unknown except through the French translation of Galland, and were under suspicion of not being of Eastern origin at all. The doubts about Galland’s translations have, however, now been removed, for all his tales have been discovered in Hindustani, and some of them in Arabic under circumstances which preclude these versions from having been translated from that of the French writer. In his preface Sir Richard Burton tells the story in detail, but we need not follow him there. He has now had these old favourites translated afresh, and they form a fitting pendant to his work. He courts comparison of his translation with the long popular version of Galland by printing the English translation of the latter’s Aladdin along with his own. Sir Richard’s notes are, it may be expected, full of curious information.

Academy, December 10, 1887.

THE KAMA SHASTRA SOCIETY.

Sir Richard F. Burton has just issued to his subscribers the third volume of his Supplemental Nights, the printing of which was delayed through his illness during the early part of the year. Sir Richard intends to pass the winter at Fiume, where the climate is less trying than at Trieste. He hopes to come to England in May, bringing with him the MS. of the fifth and last volume of the Supplemental Nights. The fourth volume is already in the hands of the printers to the Kama Shastra Society.

The third volume of the Supplemental Nights was originally intended to be the fourth; but the order has been altered on account of the difficulties which Sir Richard experienced in transcribing the Wortley-Montague MS. in the Bodleian, as narrated by himself in the Academy of November 13, 1886. Students, however, will not regret the change, in consideration of their delight at here finding for the first time the true Oriental version of “Aladdin,” which has hitherto only been known through Galland’s French. As Sir Richard announced in the Academy of January 22, 1887, an Arabic original of “Aladdin” and some other tales was quite recently purchased for the Bibliothèque Nationale by M. Hermann Zotenberg, who will shortly publish a full bibliographical description of his discovery. Meanwhile he has placed a copy of the MS. at Sir Richard’s disposal; and from this the translation of “Aladdin,” or rather, “Allaeddin,” has been made. “Ali Baba” is another of the most familiar of the Arabian Nights stories for which no Arabic original has yet been found. In order to produce a genuine Orientalised version of this, Sir Richard has had recourse to the following device. After much searching in vain among Persian and Turkish MSS., he at last found a Hindustani version containing the missing tales, which Mr. J. F. Blumhardt, of Cambridge, helped to English. He was thus enabled to escape from the plan he had originally contemplated—of turning Galland’s French into Arabic, and then translating that.

In addition to these welcome novelties, the volume is noticeable for its bulk, for Sir Richard generally gives his subscribers more than he promised. We have here the popular English form of Galland’s “Aladdin,” to compare with the version now first made from the original Arabic; and also an appendix of about 100 pages, contributed by Mr. W. A. Clouston, which describes in detail the variants and analogues of all the tales in the volume.

In the meantime, the Kama Shastra Society has begun a fresh undertaking—the production of a literal and unexpurgated translation of three famous Persian works:—(1) The Gulistân, or “Rose Garden,” of Sa’dí (A.D. 1258), which may be called not unfamiliar in incomplete versions; (2) the Nigaristân, or “Picture Gallery,” of Mu’in-uddín Jawini (A.D. 1334), which has never been translated into any Western language; and (3) the Behâristân, or “Abode of Spring,” of Jâmi (A.D. 1487), of which one chapter or “garden” was translated a few years ago by Mr. C. E. Wilson, under the title of Persian Wit and Humour (Chatto and Windus, 1883). For a popular account of these authors and their rank in Persian literature, we may refer our readers to a little volume published by Mr. Bernard Quaritch in the early part of the present year called Persian Portraits. Of the three translations which the Kama Shastra Society propose to issue to a very limited number of subscribers, the Behâristân of Jâmi—the latest in date but the greatest in reputation—is now ready. It forms a volume of less than 200 pages with a few notes.

Morning Post, March 19, 1888.

As is well shown in this volume, there is as much in the manner of these tales as in the matter of them. If Oriental fiction delights our fancy by transferring us from the common places of our workaday life to realms and to communities fairer than any of which we have daily experience here, any aids from language by which the dominance of fascination may be maintained are clearly legitimate and useful. That the subject is worthy of a warm and ornate rendering such as has been bestowed upon it in these delightful volumes is made abundantly evident from a glance at the splendour of the Arabian Empire during the period covered by The Nights but particularly in the earlier portion of it.

Athenæum, May 12, 1888.

Sir Richard Burton’s complete translation of the Arabian Nights may be considered the magnum opus of one who had already added much to his country’s literature by the record of his own personal travel and adventure. To render the original text of such a work as The Arabian Nights into a European language so as to make the reader apprehend the style and spirit of the Arabic is necessarily a task demanding exceptional qualifications; and success in so bold an attempt, were it but partial, would imply the exercise of more than Oriental scholarship. It could only be achieved by one who understood, in all shades and phases, the genius and imaginary, the ways and habits, the tastes and prejudices, the pathos and humour of both Western and Eastern peoples. Probably there is no Englishman living who could have ventured on the undertaking with better chances of success than Sir R. Burton.

Liverpool Daily Post, May 3, 1888.

The sale of Sir Richard Burton’s uncompromising translation of the Thousand and One Nights was so great that Sir Richard has undertaken to supply five supplementary volumes. The “copy” has just reached the publishers from Trieste, and the volumes will be disposed of on the same terms as the early ones—that is to say, by subscription. The price fixed is pretty high, but so overmastering is the purely literary curiosity in the matter that not only was the original edition sold to the last copy, but the book is now at a very considerable premium in the market. Sir Richard Burton proposes to himself to take a little rest, after which he will commence a work that cannot fail to equal in interest even the Arabian Nights, and will be much better adapted for appearance on the drawing-room table. Sir Richard is going to write his autobiography—a work that will cover one of the most remarkable careers of modern times. The efforts made in influential quarters to secure an adequate retiring pension for this gallant explorer and man of letters still prove unavailing, and he goes on with his dull, uncongenial work as Consul at Trieste—a place in which he has never enjoyed really good health.

The County Gentleman, October 17th, 1885.

How fearfully cold it is, to be sure! My overcoat is neither lined with rabbit skin nor tipped with astrachan, and I feel the bitter breeze. A friend of mine, who has subscribed to Captain Burton, tells me that if I carried a copy of the first volume of the new translation of the Arabian Nights in my breast-pocket I would find it very warm. I daresay he is right, but the copies published a month ago at a guinea have gone up in value to ten. I suppose the reports of a severe winter have sent the work to a premium. Or, may be, Mr. Stead’s review gives it enhanced value.

Burton’s new Arabian Nights is the book of the season. But, strange to say, it is not to be had at Mudie’s or at Smith’s. Only a thousand copies were issued, and these went to subscribers. And the owners of a copy of the first volume are already personages of importance. School-girls cry for the book, and the Social Purity people borrow it when they can. Inquisitive folk ask everybody if they have seen it, and wonder why there should be so much fuss made about it. Wags look knowing and give evasive answers, but the man who tells the truth sayeth in reply, “because it is the highest book ever printed in English.” The captain is not the only writer that has gone to the Thousand and One Nights.

Burton’s book makes one feel sorry for Rabelais and Stead. Indeed, Rabelais borrowed from the original, and Burton of immortal Melancholy, like his namesake the peripatetic captain, knew something of it. The new edition will be prized by a few students, perhaps, but its chief value in the eyes of many that hold copies of it will be its high qualities. A few of the volumes were to be had in Holywell-street, but these have all been bought up at big prices.

“Jehu Junior,” Vanity Fair, October 24th, 1885.

As a bold, astute traveller, courting danger, despising hardship, and compelling fortune, Captain Burton has few equals; as a master of Oriental languages, manners and customs he has none. He is still very young, very vigorous, very full of anecdote and playful humour, and, what is remarkable in a linguist, he has not disdained even his own mother tongue, which he handles with a precision and a power that few can approach. He has recently crowned his literary labours by the most complete, laborious, uncompromising, and perfect translation of that collection of stories known to us as The Arabian Nights, but more correctly called A Thousand Nights and a Night. He is a wonderful man.

Whitehall Review, October 29th, 1885.

The second volume of Captain Burton’s translation of the Arabian Nights has just been issued to the subscribers, who had already become impatient for a second instalment of this great and fascinating contribution to literature. The new volume is, if possible, of even greater interest than the first. It contains the whole of the fantastic semi-chivalrous story of King Omar Bin al-Nu’-uman and his sons Sharrkan and Zau al-Makan, a knowledge of which has hitherto been confined chiefly to Oriental scholars, as Lane only admitted an episode from it into his version of Alif Laïla. Some of Sharrkan’s adventures will remind students of other Eastern stories of some of the adventures recorded of the hero of Persian romance, Hatim Taï. As usual, Captain Burton’s notes are rich, varied, and copious, of the greatest service to all serious students of Arabic manners and customs, and of Oriental life in general. * * *

Apropos of Captain Burton’s Arabian Nights, a silly story is going the round of some of the newspapers to the effect that some idiot, or company of idiots, intend to address a solemn appeal to Captain Burton to cease the publication of his work. A virtuous journal like the Pall Mall Gazette has been shocked by its Oriental freedom of speech, and it and its readers are prepared to denounce Captain Burton up hill and down dale for the crime of translating into accurate English a great Arabic masterpiece. How silly, how vulgar, how uneducated such a cry is must be obvious to any one who has made any study, no matter how limited, of any of the great literatures of the world compared to Rabelais, compared to Boccaccio, compared to La Fontaine, the Arabian Nights of Captain Burton might almost be recommended as a study for a Sunday-school. We have chosen for our examples authors all of whose works are familiarly studied and easily obtainable. It would be childish to compare Captain Burton’s Arabian Nights with other works which we could mention, which are, luckily, less generally known and also, luckily, less generally obtainable; while to compare the morality of these new Arabian Nights with the Pall Mall Gazette itself would be comparing the waters of the Mediterranean with ditchwater.

South Eastern Herald, October 31st, 1885.

At Mr. Quaritch’s trade sale the other day, Captain Burton made an interesting speech regarding The Thousand and One Nights, of which the gist was to show that his translation performs a double office. It is not only a faithful and racy version of the true original, but it also represents a better text than any which has been hitherto accessible in print or manuscript. He, in fact, produced for his own use, and by collation of the existing materials, a careful, critical recension of the original; and his rendering may, therefore, claim to stand towards the Alf Laïlah in the same manner as the Latin version of Plato, by Marsilius Ficinus, towards the Greek text.

Angler’s Journal, November 21st, 1885.

To such of my brother anglers as consider something warm a necessity when pursuing their sport during the winter months, I confidently recommend the latest edition of the Thousand and One Nights, done into English by Captain Burton. There is no pandering to pretended prudery in this work, which is the only translation extant calculated to give one a true idea of the many subtle and hitherto unexpressed beauties of the original. This book is the more welcome from the fact of our having been lately flooded with abridged and castrated editions of the English and other classics; for, as a matter of fact, the excised portions are the only parts of such books that the British public cares to read. But what has all this to do with fishing? I fancy I hear some of my readers indulging in expletives, and language which is best expressed by the natural divisions of these paragraphs.

Morning Post, January 19th, 1886.

Everything comes to him who waits—even the long-promised, eagerly expected “Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights,” by Richard F. Burton. It is a whole quarter of a century since this translation of one of the most famous books of the world was contemplated, and we are told it is the natural outcome of the well-known pilgrimage to Medinah and Mecca. Of Captain Burton’s fitness for the task who can doubt? It was during that celebrated journey to the Tomb of the Prophet that he proved himself to be an Arab—indeed, he says, in a previous state of existence he was a Bedouin. Did he not for months at a stretch lead the life of a Son of the Faithful, eat, drink, sleep, dress, speak, pray, like his brother devotees, the sharpest eyes failing to pierce his disguise? He knows the ways of Eastern men—and women—as he does the society of London or Trieste. How completely at home he is with his adopted brethren he showed at Cairo, when, to the amazement of some English friends who were looking on at the noisy devotions of some “howling” Dervishes, he suddenly joined the shouting, gesticulating circle, and behaved as if to the manner born. He has qualified as a “howler,” he holds a diploma as a master Dervish, 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.

Bat, February 8th, 1886.

Indeed of those who know the Arabian Nights as they really are, there are three classes and only three. First, there are those who have read the translation by Mr. John Payne, a book with many faults, but which has the merit of being the first complete translation in any language. Secondly, those who know the Alif Laila in its original text; whether that text be Macnaughten’s, Habicht’s, or the Boulak version. Thirdly, and best of all, those who know the translation by Sir Richard Burton, an immortal addition to English literature, and the most priceless contribution to Oriental knowledge that has been made for a century. To the serious student of the East and of all things Eastern, Sir Richard Burton’s translation is in itself a very Alexandrian library of rare, curious, unparalleled knowledge, the Knowledge, that can only be obtained and given again by a man of letters, who is also in the widest sense a man of the world. But Sir Richard Burton’s translation of the Arabian Nights is a book for men and not for all men. It is the text-book and the treasure-house of scholars; but it is not for every-day readers; and above all things, and inevitably, it is not for woman-kind. No woman could read, was ever meant to read Sir Richard Burton’s Arabian Nights.

Court Society, March 4th, 1886.

Not a little disgust has been excited by the vulgar sneer which a morning paper has indulged in at the expense of Sir Richard Burton. Long neglected by successive Governments, Captain Burton received, after 44 years, a tardy recognition of his services. Straightway, it was suggested that he is made a knight because he translated the Arabian Nights. It need scarcely be said that his translation has nothing to do with the distinction conferred upon him, but as it is the habit in a certain quarter to denounce the literal translation of the Nights, it cannot be too distinctly understood that Captain Burton never meant his work to fall into any hands save those of a thousand students.

Sporting Life, April 12th, 1886.

The first two of the five volumes of “Supplemental Nights to the Book or the Thousand Nights and a Night, with Notes Anthropological and Explanatory,” have been issued privately to subscribers, whereof there will be no more than a thousand. We have Sir Richard F. Burton’s pledge. The tales are peculiarly interesting, and are told in English of matchless flavour and force. Volume iii. is dedicated to Mr. Henry Irving in these words: “My dear Irving, To a consummate artist like yourself, I need hardly suggest that The Nights still offers many a virgin mine to the Playwright: and I ascribe this volume to you, not only in admiration of your genius, but in the hope of that you will find means of exploiting the hidden wealth which awaits only your ‘Open Sesame!’—Ever yours sincerely, Richard F. Burton.” This is a pregnant hint. As I have before observed, the vast majority of readers of the Englished lore of the East knew worse than nothing of that marvellous storehouse of romance, The Arabian Nights until Sir Richard Burton opened it for them. There are countless dramas embodied in the Nights, and one cannot wonder that Sir Richard Burton should desire to see some of them shaped for the stage at the instance of his friend Mr. Irving. I may mention here that the third volume of Lady Burton’s edition of the Nights is available. It is as dainty as its predecessors, as well done in point of literary workmanship, and as full of matter.

Whitehall Review, May 24th, 1886.

The sixth volume of Sir Richard Burton’s Arabian Nights which has just been issued to subscribers, is one of the most interesting of the series to Anglo-Orientalists. For it contains that story—or set of stories—which is, perhaps, of all the tales of the Arabian Nights the dearest to legend-loving mankind, whether Oriental or Occidental—the story of the voyages of “Sindbad the Sailor,” or of “Sindbad the Seaman,” as Sir Richard Burton prefers to call him. Perhaps the only tale which at all competes in popularity with the wandering record of the “Eastern Odysseus” is the story of “Ali Baba,” and that, unfortunately, does not belong to the Arabian Nights at all, and can only, as far as we know, be traced to a modern Greek origin. Lovers of the story of “Sindbad the Sailor” will be pleased to learn that their old friend remains to all intents and purposes the same in Sir Richard’s literal Translation as he was in the fanciful adaptation of Galland, and the more accurate rendering of Lane. He does not “suffer a sea change,” but remains, what he has always been, the most wonderful wanderer in the whole range and region of romance. Sir Richard Burton’s sixth volume contains, besides, that story of the “Seven Viziers” which in so many forms is a favourite in all the languages of the East.

The Bat, July 7th, 1886.

As regards his translation, however, Captain Burton is certainly felicitous in the manner in which he has Englished the picturesque turns of the original. One great improvement in this version over that of Mr. Lane will be found in the fact that the verses so freely interspersed throughout the Nights are here rendered in metre, and that an attempt also has often been made to preserve the assonants and the monorhyme of the Arabic. Mr. Lane frankly stated that he omitted the greater part of the poetry as tedious, and, through the loss of measure and rhyme “generally intolerable to the reader,” as, in truth, the specimens inserted mostly proved to be on account of the bald literalism of the rendering. Captain Burton has naturally inserted the poetry with the rest; and has often shown much skill in doing into English verse the rippling couplets of the original. Take, as an instance, the verses which Mr. Lane renders:—

“Tell him who is oppressed with anxiety that anxiety will not last.

As happiness passeth away, so passeth away anxiety.”

Almost equally literal, and certainly more poetical, is Captain Burton, who gracefully turns this:—

“Tell whoso hath sorrow, Grief never shall last;

E’en as Joy hath no morrow, so woe shall go past.”

And since, in proverbs and epigrams, so much depends on the form, the spirit of the original is well observed, when, for instance, we read in a certain chronicle the lines of one Ibn al Sumam:—

“Hold fast thy secret, and to none unfold;
Lost is a secret when that secret’s told.
And fail thy breast thy secret to conceal,

How canst thou hope another’s breast shall hold?”

Doubtless, too—and in this not following Mr. Lane—Captain Burton is right in retaining the original division into Nights: for, as he justly observes, “Without the Nights, no Arabian Nights!” And, besides this being a prime feature of the original, a grateful pause is thereby introduced into these intricate and interminable stories. In the translation Captain Burton’s English is generally picturesque and always fluent. As it is frankly stated, too, has “never hesitated to coin a word when wanted.” Captain Burton, who has passed the greater portion of his life in Arab-speaking countries, mixing freely in Moslem society, and often passing—as during his pilgrimage—himself for a True Believer, is naturally well qualified to translate this “Great Eastern Saga-Book.” Also, since the scene of the stories is laid successively in every country of Islam, from Tangier to India, and beyond, the translator’s intimate acquaintance, made during his wanderings, with all these people and places, stands him in good stead in elucidating peculiar manners and customs, and in this gives him the advantage over Mr. Lane, who had only seen Islam as domiciled in Egypt.

The Sporting Life, July 17th, 1886.

There has been such a delay between the issue of the sixth and that of the seventh volume of “Alf Laylah wa Laylah,” or “The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night,” “the private subscribers only” to that marvellous work were beginning to wonder whether anything had happened to Sir Richard F. Burton to put a stop to his undertaking. At any rate, one private subscriber wondered, the more especially as many threats had been breathed by self-imposed keepers of the public conscience (journalists, of course), with regard to putting an end to the publication. To make up for the delay, the eighth, as well as the seventh, volume has been issued. One of the dedications is peculiar. It is encased in a mourning border, and runs thus:—“A Message to Frederick Hankey, formerly of No. 2, Rue Lafitte, Paris.—My dear Fred,—If there is such a thing as ‘continuation,’ you will see these lines in the far spirit-land, and you will find that your old friend has not forgotten you and Annie.” It is evident from this that the great African and Asian traveller has leanings towards a belief in spiritualism.

The more I see of this splendid translation, the more do I feel that we are indebted to the translator (after Mr. Payne) for the first real idea, in English, of the immortal original, and to him alone for a complete reflection of the Arabian Nights. The lustre and vigour of the English compel one’s admiration at every step. In justification whereof I cite a couple of brief passages from the first few pages in the seventh volume:—“The first to open the door of war was Kurajan, who cried out, saying, ‘Let no coward come out to me this day, nor craven!’ Whereupon Jamrkan and Sa’adan stood by the colours, but there ran at him a captain of the Banu Amir, and the two drave at each other awhile like two rams butting. Presently Kurajan seized the Moslem by the jerkin under his hauberk, and dragging him from his saddle, dashed him to the ground, where he left him, upon which the Kafirs laid hands on him and bound him and bore him off to their tents, whilst Kurajan wheeled about and careered and offered battle till another captain came out, whom also he took prisoner, nor did he leave to do thus till he had made prize of seven captains before midday.”

Again: “He cried out to his folk, ‘At him all at once and assault him with one assault.’ Accordingly they waved the awe-striking banners, and host was heaped on host; Gharib rushed on with his men, and Jamrkan did the same, and the two sides met like two seas together clashing. The Yamani sword and spear wrought havoc, and breasts and bellies were rent, whilst both armies saw the Angel of Death face to face, and the dust of the battle rose to the skirts of the sky. Ears went deaf and tongues went dumb, and doom from every side came on, whilst valiant stood fast and faint heart fled; and they ceased not from fight and fray till ended the day, when the drums beat the retreat and the two hosts drew apart and returned, each to its tents.” Is not that spirited? It is palpable enough that, until Sir Richard Burton’s wonderful work saw the light, we had no “Arabian Nights.”

Nottingham Journal, August 30th, 1886.

The sales of Sir Richard Burton’s most realistic version of the Arabian Nights (a very valuable book in its way, but distinctly a top-shelf one) appear to have gone off with uncommon briskness; with so much briskness, in fact, that Sir Richard has taken in hand to prepare for publication a series of additional tales from the same source. Five new volumes called Supplemental Nights are in preparation, and I understand that the first two are completed. It is no disparagement to the scholarly labours of the editor to suggest that one may have too much Arabian Nights Entertainment. The translation of the original work, a unique performance, will always be valued by students and collectors (I am told that it is already worth double the price it was issued at), but a second series might possibly pall.

Whitehall Gazette, August 5th, 1886.

The current number of the Edinburgh Review contains an article of a somewhat foolish kind upon the Arabian Nights. That great collection of Eastern stories is receiving a great deal of very deserved attention just now, and any literary contribution to the question is of interest. But the Edinburgh Reviewer does not add much of value to the matter in hand. A considerable part of his paper is devoted to a very acrid, unjust, and ill-mannered attack upon Sir Richard Burton’s famous translation. Quite apart from the question of tastes which the paper raises—though whether the Edinburgh Review is necessarily an impeccable authority as to taste is at least open to question—the attack on Sir Richard Burton’s rendering is animated by an obvious spirit of small antagonism which puts it out of court at once as a critical essay. To jump upon some small inaccuracy and trumpet over it like the foolish cock in the fable will scarcely detract from the admiration which all Orientalists feel for Sir Richard Burton, nor in any way lessen his fame as one of the profoundest and the most remarkable Oriental students of his time. The Edinburgh Reviewer is also pleased to be sarcastic over a reference to D’Herbelot. Does the reviewer really think that D’Herbelot is altogether out of date because he happened not to have been published in the latter part of the nineteenth century and under the patronage of the Edinburgh Review? However, Sir Richard Burton’s translation of the Arabian Nights will endure as a standard contribution to Oriental literature, in spite of the disapproval of its latest critic.

FOOTNOTES:

1.  Tome xli. is dated 1789, the other three, 1788, to include them in the “Cabinet.”

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

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

4.  This P. N. is, I presume, a corruption of “Shawalán” = one falling short. The wife “Oitba” is evidently “Otbá” or “Utbá.”

5.  See my Supplemental volume i. pp. 55–151, “The Ten Wazirs; or, the History of King Azádbakht and his Son.”

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

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

The Assyrian came down as a wolf on the fold,

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

8.  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.

9.  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.

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

11.  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.”

12.  i.e. a woollen cloth dyed red. Hence Pyrard (i. 244) has “red scarlet,” and (vol. ii.) “violet scarlet”; Froissart (xvth centy.) has “white scarlet,” and Marot (xvith) has “green scarlet.” The word seems to be French of xiith century, but is uncertain: 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.”

13.  i.e. “Al-Kirm,” Arab. and Pers. = a worm, as in Kirmán (see Supplem. vol. i. 59); the coccus ilicis, vulg. called cochineal.

14.  Arab. “Arz,” from the Heb. Arz or Razah (✓ raz = to vibrate), the root κέδρος (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.

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

16.  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. 350), “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.]

17.  “Kúl,” vulg. for “Kul”; a form constant in this MS.

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

19.  Gauttier, pp. 317–319, has greatly amplified and modified these words of wisdom.

20.  In text “Yá Bunayya” = lit. “O my little son,” a term of special fondness.

21.  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:

“Nomayr the jamrah (also “a live coal”) of Arabs are; ✿ And ne’er cease they to burn in fiery war.”

See Chenery’s Al-Hariri, pp. 343–428.

22.  In the Arab. “Ta’arkalak,” which M. Houdas renders “qu’elle ne te retienne dans ses filets.”

23.  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.

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

25.  Gauttier omits this: pas poli, I suppose.

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

Love is a boy by poets styled,

Then spare the rod and spoil the child. (ii. 1, 843).

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

27.  Arab. “Dahn” (oil, ointment) which may also mean “soft sawder.”

28.  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.

29.  M. Agoub, in Gauttier (vi. 321) remarks of these prosings, “Ces maximes qui ne seraient pas indignes, pour la plupart, des beaux temps de la philosophie grecque, appartiennent toutes au texte arabe; je n’ai fait que les disposer dans un ordre plus 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 français, 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.

30.  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.”

31.  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.”

32.  In Chavis (Weber ii. 58) and Gauttier (p. 323) Akis, roi de Perse. The second name may be “Shah of the Ebna” or Persian incolæ of Al-Yaman; aristocratie Persane naturalisée Arabe (Al-Mas’udi, iv. 188, etc.)

33.  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 correcter form = a patch of ground, a plain (hence the Buká’a = Cœlesyria), 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).

34.  “Pharaoh,” which Hebrew Holy Writ left so vague and unsatisfactory, has become with the Arabs “Fir’aun,” the dynastic name of Egyptian kings, as Kisrà (Chosroës) of the Persians, Tobba of the Himyarites, Kaysar (Cæsar) of the Romans, Jalut (Goliath) of the Phœnicians, Faghfur of the Chinese, Khákán of the Tartars, Adfonsh (Alfonso) of the Spanish, and Aguetíd of the Berbers. Ibn Khaldún iv. 572.

35.  “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.

36.  The simplicity of old Assyrian correspondence is here well preserved, as we may see by comparing those letters with the cuneiform inscriptions, etc., by S. Abden Smith (Pfeiffer, Leipsic, 1887). One of them begins thus, “The will of the King to Sintabni-Uzur. Salutation from me to thee. May it be well with thee. Regarding Sinsarra-utzur whom thou has 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.

37.  Arab. “Yaum al-Khamís.” For the week-days see vol. vi. 190, and for a longer notice, Al-Mas’udi, iii. 422–23.

38.  In the text “Kál” (al-Ráwí), “the Reciter saith”—which formula I omit here and elsewhere.

39.  i.e. “The Father of the little Fish,” in Gauttier (vii. 329) “Abou Soméika.”

40.  By way of insult; as I have before noticed.

41.  He had now learned that Nadan had ruined him.

42.  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.

43.  The old version attributes all this device to “Zefagnie;” thus injuring the unity and the interest of the tale.

44.  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.

45.  Who thus makes a “Ma’adabah” = wake or funeral feast before his death. See vol. viii. 231.

46.  i.e. “Father of the Fishlet,” in the old version “Yapousmek” (Yá Abú Sumayk!)

47.  In Chavis he becomes “an old slave, a magician, stained with the greatest crimes, who has the air and figure of Hicar.”

48.  A formula which announces the death of his supposed enemy.

49.  Arab. “Matmúrah” = Sardábah (i. 340), a silo for storing grain, an underground cell (ii. 39.)

50.  See text “Náhú” from ✓ “Nauh” = ceremonious keening for the dead. The general term for the wail is “Walwalah” or “Wilwál” (an onomatopy) and for the public wailing-woman “Naddábah.”

51.  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.

52.  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.”

53.  In text “’Azzámín,” i.e. men who recite “’Azm,” mostly Koranic versets which avert evil.

54.  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).

55.  In text “Ya’tadir”—from ✓ ’Adr = heavy rain, boldness. But in this MS. the dots are often omitted and the word may be Ya’tazir = find excuse.

56.  In the old version the wife is made to disclose the secret of her husband being alive—again a change for the worse.

57.  Here “Wayha-k” and before “Wayla-k”: see vols. v. 258; vii. 127 and iii. 82.

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

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

60.  This name appears to be a corruption. The sound, however, bears a suspicious resemblance to “Dabshalim (a name most proper for such a Prince, to wit, meaning in their tongue a mighty King),” who appears in chapt. i. of the “Fables of Pilpay” (Bidpai = Bidyapati = Lord of Lore?) “Dabshalímat” = the Dabshalíms, was the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanáth (Somnauth) in Western India.

61.  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 0m 22 × 0m 11 × 0m 14; the larger was 0m 38 × 0m 18 × 0m 14, 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.

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

63.  In Chavis, “Abicam, a Chaldæan astrologer;” in Gauttier “Abimacam.”

64.  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 largeness 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.

65.  i.e. Not standing astraddle, or in other such indecorous attitude.

66.  Chavis, “Bilelsanam, the oracle of Bel, the chief God of the Assyrian:” Gauttier Une idole Bíl. Bel (or Ba’al or Belus), the Phœnician 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.

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

68.  The text has “Baybúnah,” prop. Bábúnaj in Arab., and in Pers. “Bábúk,” or “Bábúnak” = the white camomile-flower. See vol. iii. 58.

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

70.  Arab. “Karz” = moneys lent in interest and without fixed term of payment, as opp. to “Dayn.”

71.  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.

72.  In the text “wa lá ahad tafawwaha fína.”

73.  Arab. “Falsafah” = philosophy: see vols. v. 234 and vii. 145.

74.  In the text “Fa-yatrahúna,” masc. for fem.

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

76.  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 (دَرَ not بَذَرَ) 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,” 1st p. aor. instead of “Iftil,” 2nd imper.—St.]

77.  Gauttier (vi. 347), Ces présens ne sont pas dignes de lui; mais peu de chose contenté les rois.

78.  Haykar is a Sage who follows the religion of nature, “Love thy friends and hate thy foes.” Gauttier (vii. 349) embroiders all this with Christian and French sentiment—L’intention 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.

79.  Striking the nape being the Moslem equivalent for “boxing ears.”

80.  With this formula compare Chaucer, “The Manciple’s Tale.”

81.  In the text “Znnákt-ha,” which is unintelligible, although the sense be clear.

82.  A bird unknown to the dictionaries, apparently a species of hawk.

83.  In the text “Júrah Syán” for “Júrah Sayyál.”

84.  The tree having furnished the axe-helve.

85.  M. Houdas translates Tu as médit de moi et tu m’as accablé de tes méchancetés.

86.  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.

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

88.  Because he owes thee more than a debt of life.

89.  i.e. “Tammat” = She (the tale) is finished.

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

91.  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.

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

93.  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.

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

95.  In text “Nakdí” = the actual as opposed to the contingent dowry: see vols. vii. 126; ix. 32.

96.  This is said in irony.

97.  In text “Bashákhín” plur. of “Bashkhánah:” see Suppl. vols. i. 165; iii. 121.

98.  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).

99.  He was indignant because twitted with having married a beggar-maid like good King Cophetua. In Heron he is “moved by so sensible a reply.”

100.  Plur. “Katáif,” a kind of pancake made of flour and sugar (or honey) and oil or butter.

101.  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.

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

103.  Arab. “Sibák” usually = a leash (for falconry, etc.).

104.  I have emphasised this detail which subsequently becomes a leading incident.

105.  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.”

106.  In text “Yá Ta’ís,” a favourite 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!

107.  As might a “picker up of unconsidered trifles.”

108.  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. Houdas translates Ni calottes ni caleçons, and for the former word here and in MS. p. 227 he reads “’Arakiyah” = skull-cap: see vol. i. 215. [“Akbá” is the pl. 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.]

109.  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. 51. 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.

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

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

112.  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.

113.  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.

114.  “Mayzar,” in Pers. = a turband: in Arab. “Miizar” = a girdle; a waistcloth.

115.  Arab. “Kaus al-Bunduk” (or Bandúk) 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 du 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.” (!)

116.  See vol. i. 266.

117.  i.e. by the Archangel Gabriel.

118.  Arab. “Habbah” = a grain (of barley, etc.), an obolus, a mite: it is also used for a gold bead in the shape of a cube forming part of the Egyptian woman’s headdress (Lane M.E., Appendix A). As a weight it is the 48th of a dirham, the third of a kírát (carat) or 127⁄128 of an English grain, avoir.

119.  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).

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

121.  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.]

122.  In Chavis and Cazotte she swears “by the name of God which is written on our Great Prophet’s forehead.”

123.  Arab. “Yá Luss”; for this word = the Gr. λῃστὴς see Suppl. vol. iv. index.

124.  “Al-Nátúr,” the keeper, esp. of a vineyard, a word naturalized in Persian. The Caliph asks, Is this a bonâ 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.]

125.  The innuendo is intelligible and I may draw attention to the humorous skill with which the mother-in-law’s character is drawn.

126.  In text “Aská-hu ’alakah” = gave him a good sound drubbing (’alakah), as a robber would apply to a Judge had he the power.

127.  Lest he happen to meet an unveiled woman on the stairs; the usual precaution is to cry “Dastúr!”—by your leave (Persian).

128.  Arab. “Khayr”—a word of good omen.

129.  In Chavis and Cazotte the mother gives her daughter’s name as Zutulbé (?) and her own Lelamain (?).

130.  In text “Waliyah” or “Waliyáh” = and why?

131.  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).

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

133.  The “Street of the Copperas-maker”: the name, as usual, does not appear till further on in the tale.

134.  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.

135.  Arab. “Al-Hásil” also meaning the taxes, the revenue.

136.  In text “Ká’ah” = a saloon: see vols. i. 85; i. 292; and vii. 167.

137.  In the sing. “Sikálah.”

138.  The Jinn here was Curiosity, said to be a familiar of the sex feminine, but certainly not less intimate with “the opposite.”

139.  In text “Kinnab” which M. Houdas translates étoupe que l’on fixe au bout d’un roseau pour blanchir les murs.

140.  Impossible here not to see a sly hit at the Caliph and the Caliphate.

141.  The writer has omitted this incident which occurs in Chavis and Cazotte.

142.  In the text, “Samd” = carpets and pots and pans.

143.  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 perdix. The latter in Arab. is “Durráj” (Al-Mas’udi, vii. 347): see an affecting story connected with it in the Suppl. Nights, ii. 59–62. 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.”

144.  In text “Samman” for “Sammán”: Dozy gives the form “Summun” (Houdas). The literary name is “Salwà.”

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

146.  Prob. a corruption of the Pers. “Názuk,” adj. delicate, nice.

147.  In text “Jaftáwát” which is I presume the Arab. plur. of the Turk. “Chifút” a Jew, a mean fellow. M. Houdas 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.]

148.  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 the ✓ shamma = he smelt and suggests the policeman smoking plots.

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

150.  Qui n’ait un point de contact avec l’une de ces catégories—(Houdas).

151.  In the old translations “The Hazen” (Kházin = treasurer?) which wholly abolishes the double entendre.

152.  In text “Darbisí al-báb” from the Persian, “Dar bastan” = to tie up, to shut.

153.  In text “Ghaush” for “Ghaushah” = noise, row.

154.  “Akkál bula’hu” i.e. commit all manner of abominations. “To eat skite” is to talk or act foolishly.

155.  In the old translations “Ilamir Youmis.”

156.  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.

157.  “Nahs” means something more than ill-omened, something nasty, foul, uncanny: see vol. i. 301.

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

159.  Arab. “Al-Káfi’ah” = garde-fou, rebord d’une terrasse—(Houdas).

160.  Our vulgar “Houri”: see vols. i. 90; iii. 233. There are many meanings of Hawar; one defines it as intense darkness of the black of the eye and corresponding whiteness; another that it is all which appears of the eye (as in the gazelle) meaning that the blackness is so large as to exclude the whiteness; whilst a third defines “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.

161.  Arab. “Zalamah” = tyrants, oppressors (police and employés): see vols. i. 273, and vi. 214.

162.  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’tíhu 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.]

163.  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.”

164.  Arab. “Yulakkimu,” from “Lukmah” = a mouthful; see vols. i. 266; vii. 367.

165.  Arab. “Jarazat Kuzbán” (plur. of “Kazíb,” see vol. ii. 66) = long and slender sticks.

166.  i.e. a witch; see vol. viii. 131.

167.  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.

168.  Compare the French “Brr!”

169.  i.e. to whom thou owest a debt of apology or excuse, “Gharím” = debtor or creditor.

170.  Arab. “Juráb al-’uddah,” i.e. the manacles, fetters, etc.

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

172.  In text “Bghb” evidently for “Baght” or preferably “Baghtatan.”

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

174.  The normal idiom for “I accept.”

175.  In text “Khila’t dakk al-Matrakah,” which I have rendered literally: it seems to signify an especial kind of brocade.

176.  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.

177.  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.

178.  Alluding to the Wali and his men.

179.  Arab. “Kunyah” (the pop. mispronunciation of “Kinyah”) is not used here with strict correctness. It is a forename 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 (forename), 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 forenames 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.

180.  In text “Yá Kawákí,” which M. Houdas translates “O piailleur,” remarking that here it would be = poule mouillée.

181.  “’Alakah khárijah” = an extraordinary drubbing.

182.  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.

183.  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.

184.  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.

185.  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.

186.  For this word of many senses, see vols. i. 231; ix. 221. M. Caussin de Perceval (viii. 16) quoting d’Herbelot (s.v.), notes that the Abbasides thus entitled the chief guardian of the Harem.

187.  See vols. iv. 100; viii. 268. In his Introduction (p. 22) to the Assemblies of Al-Hariri Chenery says, “This prosperity had now passed away, for God had brought the people of Rûm (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: “Rúmí” in Marocco and other archaic parts of the Moslem world is still synonymous with our “European.”

188.  This obedience to children is common in Eastern folk-lore: see Suppl. vol. i. 212, 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.

189.  In text “Fa min tumma” for “thumma”—then, alors.

190.  Such as the headstall and hobbles, the cords and chains for binding captives, and the mace and sword hanging to the saddle-bow.

191.  i.e. not a well-known or distinguished horseman, but a chance rider.

192.  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:—

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.

“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-’Ishrín (the son of twenty years), grew up a model reprobate who cared nothing save for three things, “to drink the dark-red wine foaming as the water mixeth with it, to urge into the fight a broad-backed steed, and to while away the dull day with a young beauty.” His apology for wilful waste is highly poetic:—

I see that the grave of the careful, the hoarder, differeth not from the grave of the debauched, the spendthrift:

A hillock of earth covers this and that, with a few flat stones laid together thereon.

See the whole piece in Chenery’s Al-Hariri (p. 360), from which this note is borrowed. At last uncle and nephew fled from ruin to the Court of ’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 ferocious 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).

193.  See vols. i. 192; iii. 14; these correspond with the “Stathmoi,” Stationes, Mansiones or Castra of Herodotus, Terps. cap. 53, and Xenophon An. i. 2, 10.

194.  In text “Ittikà” viiith of ✓ wakà: 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.

195.  This series of puzzling questions and clever replies is still as favourite a mental exercise in the East as it was in middle-aged Europe. The riddle or conundrum began, as far as we know, with the Sphinx, through whose mouth the Greeks spoke: nothing less likely than that the grave and mysterious Scribes of Egypt should ascribe aught so puerile to the awful emblem of royal majesty—Abu Haul, the Father of Affright. Josephus relates how Solomon propounded enigmas to Hiram of Tyre which none but Abdimus, son of the captive 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.

196.  For the sundry meanings and significance of “Salám,” here = Heaven’s blessing, see vols. ii. 24, vi. 232.

197.  This is the nursery version of the Exodus, old as Josephus and St. Jerome, and completely changed by the light of modern learning. The Children of Israel quitted their homes about Memphis (as if a large horde of half-nomadic shepherds would be suffered in the richest and most crowded home of Egypt). They marched by the Wady 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” = Pharaoh’s Pool. Such also is the modern legend amongst the Arabs, who learned their lesson from the Christians (not from the Jews) in the days when the Copts and the Greeks (ivth century) invented “Mount Sinai.” And the reader will do well to remember that the native annalists of Ancient Egypt, which conscientiously relate all her defeats and subjugations by the Ethiopians, Persians, etc., utterly ignore the very name of Hebrew, Sons of Israel, etc.

I cannot conceal my astonishment at finding a specialist journal like the “Quarterly Statement of the Palestine Exploration Fund” (Oct., 1887), admitting such a paper as that entitled “The Exode,” by R. F. Hutchinson, M.D. For this writer the labours of the last half-century are non-existing. Job is still the “oldest book” in the world. The Rev. Charles Forster’s absurdity, “Israel in the wilderness” gives valuable assistance. Goshen is Mr. Chester’s Tell Fakús (not, however, far wrong in this) instead of the long depression by the Copts still called “Gesem” or “Gesemeh,” the frontierland 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?

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.

198.  Eastern fable runs wild upon this subject, and indeed a large 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 Phœnician 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.

199.  In this word “Hayy” the Arab. and Heb. have the advantage of our English: it means either serpent or living, alive.

200.  It is nowhere said in Hebrew Holy Writ that “Pharaoh,” whoever he may have been, was drowned in the “Red Sea.”

201.  Arab. “Kaml.” The Koranic legend of the Ant has, I repeat, been charmingly commented upon by Edwin Arnold in “Solomon and the Ant” (p. i., Pearls of the Faith). It seems to be a Talmudic exaggeration of the implied praise in Prov. vi. 6 and xxx. 25, “The ants are a people not 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 Judee.

202.  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.

203.  For Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, a marvellous legendary figure, see vols. iv. 175; v. 384. 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.

204.  Gesenius interprets it “Soldier of God”; the bye-name given to Jacob presently became the national name of the Twelve Tribes collectively; then it narrowed to the tribe of Judah; afterwards it became = laymen as opposed to Levites, etc., and in these days it is a polite synonym for Jew. When you want anything from any of the (self-) Chosen People you speak of him as an Israelite; when he wants anything of you, you call him a Jew, or a damned Jew, as the case may be.

205.  I am not aware that there is any general history of the bell, beginning with the rattle, the gong and other primitive forms of the article; but the subject seems worthy of a monograph. In Hebrew Writ the bell first appears in Exod. xxviii. 33 as a fringe to the Ephod of the High Priest that its tinkling might save him from intruding unwarned into the bodily presence of the tribal God, Jehovah.

206.  Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth), where, according to some Moslems, the Solomon was buried.

207.  I cannot explain this legend.

208.  So the old English rhyme, produced for quite another purpose by Sir John Bull in “Wat Tyler’s Rebellion” (Hume, Hist. of Eng., vol. i. chapt. 17):—

“When Adam dolve and Eve span,

Who was then the gentleman?”

A variant occurs in a MS. of the xvth century, Brit. Museum:—

“Now bethink the gentleman,

How Adam dalf and Eve span.”

And the German form is:—

“So Adam reutte (reute) and Eva span

Wer was da ein Eddelman (Edelman)?”

209.  Plur. of “’Usfúr” = a bird, a sparrow. The etymology is characteristically Oriental and Mediæval, 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).

210.  i.e. “Fír is rebellious.”

211.  Both of which, I may note, are not things but states, modes or conditions of things. See vol. ix. 78.

212.  “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.

213.  Possibly “A prayer of Moses, the man of God,” the title of the highly apocryphal Psalm xc.

214.  Arab. “Libás” = clothes in general.

215.  In text ظفر 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 a clerical error for ضفر Zafar = plaited hair.

216.  According to Al-Mas’udi (i. 86, quoting Koran xxi. 52), Abraham had already received of Allah spiritual direction or divine grace (“Rushdu ’llah” or “Al-Hudà”) which made him sinless. In this opinion of the Imamship, says my friend Prof. A. Sprenger, the historian is more fatalistic than most Sunnís.

217.  Modern Moslems are all agreed in making Ishmael and not Isaac 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.

218.  In text “Tajní” = lit. thou pluckest (the fruit of good deeds). M. Houdas translates Tu recueilles, mot à mot tu cueilles.

219.  See note at the end of this tale.

220.  Amongst the Jews the Temple of Jerusalem was a facsimile of the original built by Jehovah in the lowest heaven or that of the Moon. For the same idea (doubtless a derivation from the Talmud) amongst the Moslems concerning the heavenly Ka’abah called Bayt al-Ma’múr (the Populated House) see my Pilgrimage iii. 186, et seq.

221.  i.e. there is an end of the matter.

222.  In text “Massa-hu ’l Fakr” = poverty touched him.

223.  He had sold his father for a horse, etc., and his mother for a fine dress.

224.  This enigma is in the style of Samson’s (Judges xiv. 12) of which we complain that the unfortunate 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.

225.  We should say “To eclipse the sun.”

226.  A very intelligible offer.

227.  Arab. “Bi Asri-hi,” lit. “rope and all;” metaphorically used = altogether, entirely: the idea is borrowed from the giving or selling of a beast with its thong, halter, chain, etc.

228.  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.

229.  This ending with its resumé of contents is somewhat hors ligne, yet despite its vain repetition I think it advisable to translate it.

230.  “And she called his name Moses, and she said because from the water I drew him” (Exod. ii. 10). So in Copt. ⲙⲱⲟⲩⲥⲉ = water son, ⲙⲉⲥ = waters, ⲙⲟⲩϭⲓ = taken from or ⲙⲟⲩⲁϩⲓ = delivered from.

231.  The Pharaoh of the Exodus is popularly supposed by Moslems to have treated his leprosy with baths of babes’ blood, the babes being of the Banú Isráil. The word “Pharaoh” is not without its etymological difficulties. In Josephus פרעה = ⲡⲓ ⲟⲩⲣⲟ = the King. Others suggest ⲡⲓ ⲣⲁ = the sun, which has little weight. Rá, the sun (without article) generally follows the name of the king who is also termed ⲥⲓ ⲣⲁ = son of Ra, ergo not Ra. Harding follows Brugsch Pasha, who proposes “Per’ao” = great house, sublime Porte.

232.  Graetz (Geschichte i. note 7) proves that “Aram,” in the Hebrew text (Judges iii. 8) should be “Edom.”

233.  I give a quadruple increase, at least 25 per centum more than the genealogies warrant.

234.  MS. pp. 505–537. This story is found in the “Turkish Tales” by Petis de la Croix who translated one fourth of the “Forty Wazirs” by an author self-termed “Shaykh 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 verset 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 “Houri” (ibid. p. 24) without warning the reader that it is an irregular formation, masculine withal, for “Huríyah” and that the Pers. “Húrí,” from which the Turks borrowed their blunder, properly means “One Húr.”

235.  For the Dajlah (Tigris) and Furát (Euphrates) see vols. viii. 150; ix. 17. The topothesia is worse than Shakspearean. In Weber’s Edit. of the “New Arabian Nights” (Adventures of Simoustapha, etc.), the rivers are called “Ilfara” and “Aggiala.”

236.  In text “Alwán,” for which see vol. vii. 135.

237.  [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.]

238.  In text “Al-Wahwah.”

239.  In text, “Mutasa’lik” for “Mutasa’lik” = like a “sa’lúk.”

240.  For this “high-spirited Prince and noble-minded lord” see vol. ix. 229.

241.  In text “Bisáta-hum” = their carpets.

242.  In text “Hawánít,” plur. of “Hanút” = the shop or vault of a vintner, pop. derived from the Persian Kháneh; but it appears to be another form of حانوت Heb. חנות Syr. ܗܰܢܘܽܬܐܰ. 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 from حين 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.

243.  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.

244.  [The text reads “Liyah,” and lower down twice with the article “Al-Liyah” (double Lám). 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.]

245.  “Wa Kíta’h hamrah,” which M. Houdas renders un morceau de viande cuite.

246.  This is a specimen of the Islamised Mantra called in Sanskrit Stambhaná 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 screwpine (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 François 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.

247.  Probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns.

248.  In text “Kamá zukira fí Dayli-h” = arrange-toi de façon à l’atteindre (Houdas).

249.  Proverbial for its depth: Káshán is the name of sundry cities; here one in the Jibál or Irák ’Ajami—Persian Mesopotamia.

250.  Doubtless meaning Christians.

251.  The Sage had summoned her by the preceding spell which the Princess obeyed involuntarily.

252.  i.e. last night; see vol. iii. 249.

253.  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.

254.  Arab. “Dukhn” = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain, a congener of the Zurrah or Durrah = Holcus Sativus, Forsk. cxxiii. The incident is not new. In “Das 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. 570.

255.  i.e. a martyr of love. See vols. iii. 211; iv. 205.

256.  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).

257.  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.”

258.  Here supply the MS. with “illá.”

259.  In text “tatadakhkhal ’alay-h:” see “Dakhíl-ak,” vol. i. 61.

260.  Or “he”: the verb may also refer to the Sage.

261.  Arab. “Kazafa” = threw up, etc.

262.  This, in the case of the Wazir, was a transformation for the worse: see vol. vii. 294, for the different kinds of metamorphosis.

263.  i.e. my high fortune ending in the lowest.

264.  In text “Bakar” = black cattle, whether bull, ox or cow. For ploughing with bulls see vol. i. 16.

265.  In text “Mukrif” = lit. born of a slave father and free mother.

266.  In text “Antum fí kháshin wa básh,” an error for “khásh-másh” = a miserable condition.

267.  In text “yatbashsh” for “yanbashsha.” [Or it may stand for yabtashsh, with transposition of the “t” of the eighth form, as usual in Egypt. See Spitta-Bey’s Grammar, p. 198.—St.]

268.  “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.]

269.  For this name of the capital of Eastern Arabia see vols. i. 33; vii. 24.

270.  “Tobe” is the Anglo-Oriental form of “Thaub” = in Arabia a loose robe like a night-gown. See ii. 206.

271.  The good old Mosaic theory of retribution confined to this life, and the belief that Fate is the fruit of man’s actions.

272.  Arab. “Sandarúsah” = red juniper gum (Thuja articulata of Barbary), red arsenic, realgar, from the Pers. Sandar = amber.

273.  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 (ed. Meon, tom. i. 49). It is then found in the collection of fables by Marie, a French poetess whose Lais are still extent; 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 Angliæ Affrus. Marie’s fable is printed in extenso in the Chaucer of Dr. Morris (i. 247); London, Bell and Sons, 1880; and sundry lines remind us of the Arabic, e.g.:—

Li gupil volt parler en haut,
Et li cocs de sa buche saut,
Sur un haut fust s’est muntez.

And it ends with the excellent moral:—

Ceo funt li fol tut le plusur,
Parolent quant deivent taiser,
Teisent quant il deivent parler.

Lastly the Gentil Cok hight Chanticlere and the Fox, Dan Russel, a more accidented tale, appear in “The Nonne Preestes Tale,” by the Grand Traducteur.

274.  “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.

275.  “Sa’alab” or “Tha’lab”; vol. iii. 132.

276.  In text “Kikán,” plur. of “Kík” = des corneilles (Houdas).

277.  “Samman” or “Summán,” classically “Salwà.”

278.  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.]

279.  In text “yá zayn” = Oh, the beautiful beast!

280.  In text “Abú Sahíh” = (flight to) a sure and safe place.

281.  MS. pp. 725–739.

282.  Arab. “Zábit,” from the ✓ “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.”

283.  In text “Ráhib” = monk or lion.

284.  The lines are wholly corrupt.

285.  The “Bahalul” of D’Herbelot. This worthy was a half-witted Sage (like the Iourodivi of Russia and the Irish Omadhaun) who occupies his own place in contemporary histories, flourished under Harun al-Rashid and still is famous in Persian Story. When the Caliph married him perforce and all the ceremonies were duly performed and he was bedded with the bride, he applied his ear to her privities and forthwith ran away with the utmost speed and alarm. They brought him back and questioned him concerning his conduct when he made answer, “If you had only heard what it said to me you would have done likewise.” In the text his conduct is selfish and ignoble as that of Honorius

“Who strove to merit heaven by making earth a hell.”

And he shows himself heartless and unhuman as the wretched St. Alexius of the Gesta Romanorum (Tale xv.), a warning of the intense selfishness solemnly and logically inculcated by Christianity. See vol. v. 150.

286.  Koran, ch. li. v. 17.

287.  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.

288.  In text “Mas’h.”

289.  “Hisában tawíl” = a long punishment.

290.  The rod of Moses (see pp. 98–99) 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.

291.  An onomatopy like “Couïc, Couïc.” For “Maksah,” read “Fa-sáha” = and cried out.

292.  “Zindík” = Atheist, Agnostic: see vols. v. 230; viii. 27.

293.  “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.

294.  This passage in the MS. (p. 733) is apparently corrupt. I have done my best to make sense of it.

295.  In text “Kamburisiyah.”

296.  In the Dicts. a plant with acid flavour, dried, pounded and peppered over meat.

297.  In text “Najas” = a pear.

298.  “Tutmajíyah,” for “Tutmáj.”

299.  “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.

300.  Kishk = ground wheat, oatmeal or barley-flour eaten with soured sheep’s milk and often with meat.

301.  So in text: I suspect for “’Ajínniyah” = a dish of dough.

302.  The Golden Calf is alluded to in many Koranic passages, e.g. Súrah ii. (the Cow) 48; vii. (Al-Aaráf) 146; S. liv. (Women) 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 Abú Rayhán 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.”

303.  Alluding to the “Sayyád,” lit. = a fisherman.

304.  In text “Al-Zahr.”

305.  “Ajdár.”

306.  In text “Al-Matáyá.”

307.  In text “Sinaubar,” which may also mean pistachio-tree.

308.  i.e. 475 to 478 Eng. grains avoir., less than the Ukiyyah or Wukiyyah = ounce = 571·5 to 576 grains. Vol. ix. 216.

309.  Not more absurd than an operatic hero singing while he dies.

310.  MS. pp. 588–627. In Gauttier’s edit. vii. (234–256), it appears as Histoire de l’Habitant de Damas. His advertisement in the beginning of vol. vii. tells us that it has been printed in previous edits., but greatly improved in his: however that may be, the performance is below contempt. In Heron it becomes The POWER OF DESTINY, or Story of the Journey of Giafar to Damascus, comprehending the adventures of Chebib and his Family (vol. i. pp. 69–175).

311.  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. 100.

312.  Hátim of the Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality. See vols. iv. 95, and vii. 350.

313.  in Mr. Cotheal’s MS. the Caliph first laughs until he falls backwards, and then after reading further, weeps until his beard is bathed.

314.  Heron inserts into his text, “It proved to be the 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 Grand 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 “Gefr u Giame.”

315.  The father (whom Heron calls “Hichia Barmaki”) spoke not at random, but guessed that the Caliph had been reading the book Al-Jafr.

316.  Heron calls Ja’afar’s wife “Fatmé” from the French.

317.  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.

318.  Heron names him Chebib (Habíb) also “Xakem Tai-Chebib” = Hátim Tayy Habíb.

319.  The scene is described at full length in the Cotheal MS. with much poetry sung by a fair slave-girl and others.

320.  Again showing the date of the tale to be modern. See my Terminal Essay, p. 90.

321.  This might serve even in these days to ask a worshipful guest why he came, and what was his business—it is the address of a well-bred man to a stranger of whose rank and station he is ignorant. The vulgar would simply say, “Who art thou, and what is thy native country?”

322.  In Heron the host learns everything by the book Al-Jafr.

323.  In text “Muzawwa” which the Egyptian pronounces “Mugawwaz.”

324.  Which would be necessary after car. cop. with his women.

325.  In text “Kabr al-Sitt,” wherein the Sitt Zaynab, aunt to Mohammed, is supposed to lie buried. Here the cultivation begins about half a mile’s ride from the 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.”

326.  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.

327.  M. Houdas translates “Tarz,” “Márkaz” or “Mirkáz” by Une pierre en forme de dame, instrument qui sert à enfoncer les pavés (=our “beetle”); c’est-à-dire en forme de borne.

328.  For this “window-gardening,” an ancient practice in the East, see vol. i. 301.

329.  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,” c.

330.  In text ضايح which I read ضايع.

331.  For “Kayf” = joy, the pleasure of living, see my Pilgrimage i. 12–13.

332.  In text “’Ayyik,” or “’Ayyuk” = a hinderer (of disease) from the ✓ ’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.

333.  Auspicious formulæ. The Cotheal MS. calls the physician “Dabdihkán.”

334.  In text “Kullu Shayyin li mu’as’as”; the latter from ✓ “’As’as” = to complicate a matter.

335.  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.

336.  Arab. “Kirsh,” before explained; in Harun’s day, = 3 francs.

337.  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.

338.  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.

339.  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).

340.  The passage is exceedingly misspelt. “Ammá min Maylí Binti-ka sháshí Aná Aswadu” (for Sháshí M. Houdas reads “Jáshí” = my heart) “Wa Taná” (read “Thaná,” reputation) “Binti-ka abyazu min Sháshí.”

341.  One of the formulæ of divorce.

342.  In text “Muábalát min Shaani-ka.” M. Houdas reads the first word “Muzábal” = zublán, wearied, flaccid, weak.

343.  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.

344.  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.”

345.  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.

346.  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.

347.  “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.

348.  In text “Al-buyúrdi,” clerical error for “Buyúruldi” (pron. Buyúruldu) = the written order of a Governor.

349.  “Al-Yamaklak” = vivers, provaunt; from the T. “Yamak” = food, a meal.

350.  Meaning that he waived his right to it.

351.  In text “Zawádah” (gen. “Azwád” or “Azwi’dah”) = provisions, viaticum.

352.  In text “Takhtrawán”; see vols. ii. 180; v. 175. In the Cotheal MS. it is a “Haudaj” = camel-litter (vol. viii. 235).

353.  “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.

354.  Meaning that Attaf had not the heart to see his cousin-wife leave her home.

355.  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.

356.  In Arab. “Jinn” = spirit or energy of a man, which here corresponds with the Heb. “Aub”; so in the Hamásah 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.

357.  In the C. MS. it is an Emir of the Emirs.

358.  Arab. “Tábah:” see vol. ii. 814.

359.  This excellent episode is omitted in the C. MS. where Attaf simply breaks gaol and reaching Aleppo joins a caravan to Baghdad.

360.  In text “Katalú-ní”: see vols. v. 5; vi. 171.

361.  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 fowl, 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.

362.  The C. MS. gives the short note in full.

363.  In text “al-Towáb,” Arab. plur. of the Persian and Turk. “Top.” We hardly expected to find ordnance in the age of Harun al-Rashid, although according to Milton they date before the days of Adam.

364.  M. Houdas would read for “Alhy Tys” in the text “Tuhà Tays” a general feast: Tuhà = cooked meat and “Tays” = myriads of.

365.  M. Houdas translates les injures devancèrent les compliments, an idiom = he did not succeed in his design.

366.  “Cousin” being more polite than “wife”: see vols. vi. 145; ix. 225.

367.  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.

368.  In the local Min jargon, the language of Fellahs, “Addíki” = I will give thee.

369.  In text “Min al-’Án wa sá’idan;” lit. = from this moment upwards.

370.  “Tarajjum” taking refuge from Satan the Stoned (Rajím). See vol. iv. 242.

371.  i.e. a descendant of Al-Háshim, great-grandfather of the Prophet. See ix. 24.

372.  In text “Shobási,” for “Sobáshí” which M. Houdas translates prévôt du Palais.

373.  In the C. MS. Attaf’s head was to be cut off.

374.  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.

375.  They drink before the meal, as is still the custom in Syria and Egypt. See vol. vii. 132.

376.  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.

377.  In text “’Aramramí.”

378.  “Wa’lláhu ’l-Muwaffiku ’l-Mu’ín” = God prospereth and directeth, a formula often prefixed or suffixed to a book.

379.  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).

380.  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.”

381.  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”; his wife becoming Amírala which, if it mean anything, is = Colonel, or Captain R.N.

382.  i.e. Moon of the Nobles.

383.  = the Beloved, le bien-aimé.

384.  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.

385.  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!

386.  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.

387.  This tale and most of those in the MS. affect the Kála ’l-Ráwí (=quoth the reciter) showing the true use of them. See Terminal Essay, vol. x. 163.

388.  The missing apodosis would be, “You would understand the cause of my weeping.”

389.  In the text there are only five lines. I have borrowed the sixth from the prose.

390.  “Dáúd” = David: see vols. ii. 286; vi. 113.

391.  For “Samharí” see vol. iv. 258.

392.  From “Rudaynah,” either a woman or a place: see vols. ii. 1; vii. 265; and for “Khatt Hajar” vol. ii. 1.

393.  This is the idiomatic meaning of the Arab word “Nizál” = dismounting to fight on foot.

394.  In the text “Akyál,” plur. of “Kayl” = Kings of the Himyarite peoples. See vol. vii. 60; here it is = the hero, the heroes.

395.  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.

396.  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.

397.  In text “Sádát wa Ashráf;” for the technical meaning of “Sayyid” and “Sharif” see vols. iv. 170; v. 259.

398.  Gauttier, vii. 71. Les Isles Bellour: see vol. iii. 194.

399.  Heron’s “Illabousatrous” (?).

400.  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.

401.  In text “Snsál,” for “Salsál” = lit. chain.

402.  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 chief Catibes (Arab. Khatíb = a preacher, not Kátíb = 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 Francois 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.

403.  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.

404.  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.

405.  Heron translates “A massy cuirass of Haoudi.”

406.  In text, “Inbasata ’l-Layl al-Asá,” which M. Houdas renders et s’étendit la nuit (mère) de la tristesse.

407.  “Rauzah” in Algiers is a royal park; also a prairie, as “Rauz al-Sanájirah,” plain of the Sinjars: Ibn Khaldun, ii. 448.

408.  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.

409.  In text, “Yakhat,” probably clerical error for “Yakhbut,” lit. = he was panting in a state of unconsciousness: see Dozy, Suppl. s. v.

410.  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.]

411.  This name has occurred in MS. p. 655, but it is a mere nonentity until p. 657—the normal incuriousness. Heron dubs him “Rabir.”

412.  In the text “Zimmat” = obligation, protection, clientship.

413.  “Sahha ’alakah” (=a something) “fí hazá ’l-Amri.” The first word appears de trop being enclosed in brackets in the MS.

414.  “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.]

415.  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. 5). “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.]

416.  “Yákah Thiyábish;” the former word being Turkish (M. Houdas).

417.  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.

418.  In text “Changul,” again written with a three-dotted Chím.

419.  In text “Al-Mazrab” which M. Houdas translates cet endroit.

420.  In text “Yabahh” = saying “Bah, Bah!”

421.  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.

422.  i.e. “The Stubborn,” “The Obstinate.”

423.  In text “Al-Jawádit,” where M. Houdas would read “Al-Hawádith” which he renders by animaux fraîchement tués.

424.  In the text “Kabad” = the liver, the sky-vault, the handle or grasp of a bow.

425.  In the text “Míná” = a port both in old Egyptian and mod. Persian: see “Mitrahinna,” vol. ii. 257.

426.  “Al-Nakáír,” plur. of “Nakír” = a dinghy, a dug-out.

427.  For this “Pá-andáz,” as the Persians call it, see vol. iii. 141.

428.  In text “Kataba Zayjata-há,” the word has before been noticed.

429.  Again “Hizà (حظى, in MS. حفى) bi-Zayjati-há” = le bonheur de ses aventures.

430.  This impalement (“Salb,” which elsewhere means crucifying, vol. iii. 25) may be a barbarous punishment but it is highly effective, 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.).

431.  Archæological Review, July, 1888, pp. 331–342.

432.  The proper names are overrun with accents and diaeretical points, of which I have here retained but few.

433.  Particularly mentioning Syntipas, the Forty Vizirs, a Turkish romance relating to Alexander, in 120 volumes; and Mohammed al-‘Aufi.

434.  Probably similar to those described in the story of the Warlock and the Cook (anteà, pp. 135–142).

435.  The last clause is very short and obscure in the French “qu’il n’a pas son sabre,” but what follows shows the real meaning to be that given above. (W. F. K.)

436.  This I take to be the meaning of the words, “une autre monde sous la terre par sept fois.” (W. F. K.).

437.  Galland writes “on fait un jeu de Giret (tournoi) etc.” (W. F. K.)

438.  Perhaps an error of Galland’s. (W. F. K.).

439.  I do not know what the German edition referred to.

440.  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 married 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).

441.  About twenty pounds.

442.  Spitta Bey (p. 27 note) suggests that this is a reminiscence of the ancient Egyptian idea of the Scarabæus, which typifies life.

443.  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.

444.  This is a variant of the Nose-Tree; I do not remember another in genuine Oriental literature (cf. Nights, x, app. p. 508).

445.  How small the world becomes in this story!

446.  It is evident that a young she-bear is all that is meant.

447.  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 espionage 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.

448.  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 Jinnis 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. Aziz (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 streetdogs (ii. 265), a notable race, become European curs of low degree. The mastage 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 coiffée 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 in lieu of a turband, be stripped to the waist and retain nothing but a rag around the middle.

I have carefully noted these lapses and incongruities: not the less, however, I thoroughly appreciate the general excellence of the workmanship, and especially the imaginative scenery and the architectural designs of Mr. W. Harvey. He has shown the world how a work of the kind should be illustrated, and those who would surpass him have only to avoid the minor details here noticed.

449.  See in M. Zotenberg’s “Alâ al-Dîn” the text generally; also p. 14.

450.  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. 71–73). In p. 367 (ibid.) he assumes the total at 264.

451.  This parlous personage thought proper to fall foul of me (wholly unprovoked) in the Athenæum of August, 25, ’88. I give his production in full:—

LORD STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE.

August 18, 1888.

In the notice of Sir R. Burton’s “Life” in to-day’s 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.”

This is a strange inversion of facts. The proposal to relieve Kars by way of Redout-kalé and Kutais originated, not with Capt. Burton, but with the Turkish Seraskier, who recommended for this purpose the employment of Vivian’s Turkish Contingent and part of Beatson’s Horse (“his Bashi-bazuks,”) in which Capt. Burton held a staff appointment. In the last days of June, 1855, General Mansfield, Lord Stratford’s military adviser, was in constant communication on this subject with the Turkish Ministers, and the details of the expedition were completely arranged to the satisfaction of military opinion, both British and Turkish, at Constantinople. Lord Stratford officially recommended the plan to his Government, and in his private letters to the Foreign Secretary strongly urged it upon him, and expressed a sanguine hope of its success. But on July 14th, Lord Clarendon telegraphed: “The plan for reinforcing the army at Kars contained in your despatches of 30th June and 1st inst. is disapproved.” Lord Panmure really “frustrated” the Turkish plan; Lord Stratford never “frustrated” any attempt to succour the Army of Asia, but, contrariwise, did all in his power to forward the object.

As to the amiable reference to the Great Elchi’s reputation, no one knows better than Sir R. Burton by what queer methods reputations may be annexed; but it is strange that anyone with the reputation of a traveller should consider Constantinople to be “out of Europe.”

S. LANE-POOLE.

The following was my reply:—

LORD STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE AND MR. S. LANE-POOLE.

London, Aug. 26, 1888.

Will you kindly spare me space for a few lines touching matters personal?

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 Kars, how I laid the project before the “Great Eltchee,” how it was received with the roughest language and how my first plan was thoroughly “frustrated.” I have told a true tale, and no more. “A strange perversion of facts,” cries the sapient criticaster, with that normal amenity which has won for him such honour and troops of unfriends: when his name was proposed as secretary to the R.A.S., all prophesied the speediest dissolution of that infirm body.

I am aware that Constantinople is not geographically “out of Europe.” But when Mr. S. Lane-Poole shall have travelled a trifle more he may learn that ethnologically it is. In fact, most of South-Eastern Europe holds itself more or less non-European; and when a Montenegrin marries a Frenchwoman or a German, his family will tell you that he has wedded a “European.”

“No one knows better than Sir R. Burton by what queer methods reputation may be annexed.” Heavens, what English! And what may the man mean? But perhaps he alludes in his own silly, saltless, sneering way to my Thousand Nights and a Night, which has shown what the “Uncle and Master’s” work should have been. Some two generations of poules 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.

RICHARD F. BURTON.

And here is the rejoinder (Athenæum, September 8):—

LORD STRATFORD AND SIR R. BURTON.

September 4, 1888.

Sir R. Burton, like a prominent Irish politician, apparently prefers to select his own venue, and, in order to answer my letter in the 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.

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.

452.  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 privée and adds Ce volume ne doit pas être mis en vente ou exposé 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.

453.  “Quand aux manuscrits de la rédaction égyptienne, l’omission de cet épisode parait devoir être attribuée à la tendance qui les caractérise généralement, d’abréger et de condenser la narrative” (loc. cit. p. 7: see also p. 14).

454.  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 Bibliothèquè Nationale see M. Zotenberg (pp. 21–23). The Rich MS. in the British Museum abounds in novelties, of which a specimen was given in my Prospectus to the Supplemental Volumes.

In the French Scholar’s “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.

455.  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.

456.  See M. Zotenberg, pp. 4, 26.

457.  M. Zotenberg (p. 5) wrote la seconde moitie du xive. Siècle, but he informed me that he has found reason to antedate the text.

458.  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.

459.  This past tense, suggesting that an act is complete, has a present sense in Arabic and must be translated accordingly.

460.  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 are foul.”

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. P. 38, changed “and his and” to “and his end”.

2. P. 124, changed “הנות” to “חנות”.

3. P. 240, changed “bare her away” to “bear her away”.

4. P. 268, changed “Allah strike the dead” to “Allah strike thee dead”.

5. P. 368, changed “I do not know the German edition” to “I do not know what the German edition”.

6. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.

7. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.

8. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the last chapter.

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Table of Contents
upplemental ights TO THE BOOK OF THE Thousand Nights and a Night WITH NOTES ANTHROPOLOGICAL AND EXPLANATORY VOLUME VI.

CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH VOLUME
THE TRANSLATOR’S FOREWORD.
THE SAY OF HAYKAR THE SAGE.[6]

THE HISTORY OF AL-BUNDUKANI. OR, THE CALIPH HARUN AL-RASHID AND THE DAUGHTER OF KING KISRA.

THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA AND THE KING’S SON.

- Note to p. 105.

THE TALE OF THE WARLOCK AND THE YOUNG COOK OF BAGHDAD.

THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF THE COCK AND THE FOX.

HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL-LET WITH THE FOWLER.

TALE OF ATTAF.

- NOTE ON THE TALE OF ATTAF.

THE TALE OF ATTAF BY ALEXANDER J. COTHEAL.

HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH THE LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.

- THE HISTORY OF DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS.

- NOTE ON THE HISTORY OF HABIB.

INDEX.

Appendix I. INDEX I. INDEX TO THE TALES AND PROPER NAMES

- VARIANTS AND ANALOGUES BY W. A. CLOUSTON.

- ADDITIONAL NOTES BY W. A. CLOUSTON.

Appendix II. ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF THE NOTES (ANTHROPOLOGICAL, &c.)

Appendix III. NOTES ON THE STORIES CONTAINED IN VOL. VI. OF SUPPLEMENTAL NIGHTS.

- THE SAY OF HAYKAR THE SAGE (pp. 1–38).

- THE HISTORY OF AL-BUNDUKANI (pp. 39–85).

- THE LINGUIST-DAME, THE DUENNA, AND THE KING’S SON (pp. 87–111).

- THE TALE OF THE WARLOCK AND THE YOUNG COOK OF BAGHDAD (pp. 119–142.)

- HISTORY OF WHAT BEFEL THE FOWL-LET WITH THE FOWLER (pp. 151–164).

- THE TALE OF ATTAF (pp. 165–222).

- HISTORY OF PRINCE HABIB, AND WHAT BEFEL HIM WITH THE LADY DURRAT AL-GHAWWAS. (pp. 223–261).

Appendix IV. ADDITIONAL NOTES ON THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS.

- Errata, &c., in Vol. X.

- GALLAND’S MS. AND TRANSLATIONS (pp. 465–470).

- ZOTENBERG’S WORK ON ALADDIN AND ON VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS OF THE NIGHTS.

- STORY OF THE THREE PRINCES AND THE GENIUS MORHAGIAN AND HIS DAUGHTERS.

- CAZOTTE’S CONTINUATION, AND THE COMPOSITE EDITIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS (pp. 470–475).

- TRANSLATIONS OF THE PRINTED TEXTS (pp. 495–496).

- COLLECTIONS OF SELECTED TALES (pp. 496–497.)

- IMITATIONS AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS HAVING MORE OR LESS CONNECTION WITH THE NIGHTS. (Pp. 507–513.) B. ENGLISH (pp. 512, 513.)

- SEPARATE EDITIONS OF SINGLE OR COMPOSITE TALES (pp. 497–499).

- TRANSLATION OF COGNATE ORIENTAL ROMANCES ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE NIGHTS (pp. 499–502).

- I. Histoire de Mohammed l’Avisé.

- II. Histoire de l’Ours de Cuisine.

- III. Histoire de la Dame des Arabes Jasmin.

- IV. Histoire du Pécheur et de son Fils.

- V. Histoire de Dalâl.

- VI. Histoire de la fille vertueuse.

- VII. Histoire du prince qui apprit un métier.

- VIII. Histoire du Prince Amoureux.

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

- X. Histoire du rossignol chanteur.

- XI. Histoire d’Arab-Zandyq.

- XII. Histoire du prince et de son cheval.

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

- ADDITIONAL NOTE TO VOL. V. pp. 442–444.

THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK AND ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED.

- TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON. The Thousand Nights and a Night.

- PRELIMINARY.

- THE ENGINEERING OF THE WORK.

- No. I.

- No. II.

- No. III.

- THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE"

- THE “SATURDAY REVIEW.”

- THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW,”

- THE CRITIC IN ANGLO-AMERICA.

- THE HOUSEHOLD EDITION OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS,

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS

Morning Advertiser, September 15th, 1885.

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

Whitehall Review, September 17th, 1885.

Home News, September 18th, 1885.

Figaro, September 19th, 1885.

Nottingham Journal, September 19th, 1885.

Daily Exchange, September 19th, 1885.

Continental Times, September 26th, 1885.

Montreal Daily Herald, September 21st, 1885.

The Bat, September 29th, 1885.

The Academy, October 3rd, 1885.

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

The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday, October 10, 1885.

- TALE OF THE TRADER AND THE JINNI.”

Lincoln Gazette, October 17.—No. 2. Second Notice.

Lyttelton Times, August 25th, 1886. The New “Arabian Nights.”

Land and Water, September 4th, 1886.

United Service Gazette, September 11th.

Court Circular, September 11th, 1886.

London and Westminster Sporting Life, September 18th, 1886.

Nottingham Journal, October 6th, 1886.

Staffordshire Sentinel, Hanley, October 13th.

Civil Service Gazette, November 2nd, 1886.

Fun, November 2nd, 1886. New Leaves.

Eastern Daily Press, November 13th, 1886.

County Gentleman, November 27th, 1887.

The Philadelphia, December 12th, 1887. Once More in Print.

Academy, December 11th, 1886.

Lincoln Gazette, December 18th, 1886.

Weekly Dispatch, November 14th, 1887.

The Gazette, Saturday, December 18th, 1886.

Scotch News, Glasgow, December 23rd, 1886.

Morning Advertiser, December 25th, 1886.

The Literary World, January 7th, 1887.

- The Object of this Version.

- “The Matter of the ‘Nights.’

Queen, January 27th, 1887.

County Gentleman, February, 1887.

Bat, February 8th, 1887.

Morning Post, February 14th, 1886.

Morning Advertiser, February 26th, 1887.

Army and Navy Gazette, February 26th, 1887.

Fun, March 2nd, 1887.

Bookseller, March 4th, 1887.

Allen’s Indian Mail, March 7th, 1887.

Lunes, January 3rd, 1887.

Allen’s Indian Mail, January 17th, 1887.

Liverpool Mercury, March 26th, 1887.

The Academy, March 12th, 1887.

Manchester Examiner, March 16th, 1887.

County Gentleman, March 19th, 1887.

Army and Navy Gazette, March 27th, 1887.

Liverpool Mercury, March 31st, 1887.

Christian Union, April, 1887.

Morning Advertiser, April 8th, 1887.

Daily News, April 28th, 1887.

Spectator, April 2, 1887.

County Gentleman, May 14th, 1887.

Army and Navy Gazette, May 14th, 1887.

Liverpool Mercury, August 24th, 1887.

Army and Navy Gazette, August 27th, 1887.

Morning Advertiser, October 12th, 1887.

Glasgow Evening Times, December 3, 1887.

Academy, December 10, 1887.

Morning Post, March 19, 1888.

Athenæum, May 12, 1888.

Liverpool Daily Post, May 3, 1888.

The County Gentleman, October 17th, 1885.

“Jehu Junior,” Vanity Fair, October 24th, 1885.

Whitehall Review, October 29th, 1885.

South Eastern Herald, October 31st, 1885.

Angler’s Journal, November 21st, 1885.

Morning Post, January 19th, 1886.

Bat, February 8th, 1886.

Court Society, March 4th, 1886.

Sporting Life, April 12th, 1886.

Whitehall Review, May 24th, 1886.

The Bat, July 7th, 1886.

The Sporting Life, July 17th, 1886.

Nottingham Journal, August 30th, 1886.

Whitehall Gazette, August 5th, 1886.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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