THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT

By George Meredith

AN ARABIAN ENTERTAINMENT

1898/1909

CONTENTS: 

     The thwackings
     the story of Bhanavar the beautiful
     the betrothal
     punishment of Shahpesh, the Persian, on Khipil, the builder
     the genie Karaz
     the well of Paravid
     the horse Garraveen
     the talking hawk
     Goorelka of Oolb
     the lily of the enchanted sea
     story of Noorna bin Noorka, the genie Karaz, and the princess of Oolb
     the wiles of Rabesqurat
     the palace of Aklis
     the sons of Aklis
     the sword of Aklis
     Koorookh
     the veiled figure
     the bosom of Noorna
     the revival
     the plot
     the dish of pomegranate grain
     the burning of the identical
     the flashes of the blade
     conclusion

THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT

BOOK I.

The thwackings
the story of Bhanavar the beautiful

THE THWACKINGS

It was ordained that Shibli Bagarag, nephew to the renowned Baba Mustapha, chief barber to the Court of Persia, should shave Shagpat, the son of Shimpoor, the son of Shoolpi, the son of Shullum; and they had been clothiers for generations, even to the time of Shagpat, the illustrious.

Now, the story of Shibli Bagarag, and of the ball he followed, and of the subterranean kingdom he came to, and of the enchanted palace he entered, and of the sleeping king he shaved, and of the two princesses he released, and of the Afrite held in subjection by the arts of one and bottled by her, is it not known as ’twere written on the finger-nails of men and traced in their corner-robes?  As the poet says: 

     Ripe with oft telling and old is the tale,
     But ’tis of the sort that can never grow stale.

Now, things were in that condition with Shibli Bagarag, that on a certain day he was hungry and abject, and the city of Shagpat the clothier was before him; so he made toward it, deliberating as to how he should procure a meal, for he had not a dirhem in his girdle, and the remembrance of great dishes and savoury ingredients were to him as the illusion of rivers sheening on the sands to travellers gasping with thirst.

And he considered his case, crying, ’Surely this comes of wandering, and ’tis the curse of the inquiring spirit! for in Shiraz, where my craft is in favour, I should be sitting now with my uncle, Baba Mustapha, the loquacious one, cross-legged, partaking of seasoned sweet dishes, dipping my fingers in them, rejoicing my soul with scandal of the Court!’