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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
RICHARD F. BURTON | 1 |
NOTE ON THE TALE OF ATTAF. | 103 |
156 | |
169 | |
VIII.—Histoire du Prince Amoureux. | 187 |
TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON. | 192 |
United Service Club, August 1st, 1888.
Supplemental Nights
To The Book Of The
Thousand Nights And A Night
The Say of Haykar the Sage.[FN#6]
In the name of Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate, the Eternal One, the Termless, the Timeless, and of Him aidance we await. And here we begin (with the assistance of Allah Almighty and his fair furtherance) to invite the Story of Haykar the Sage, the Philosopher, the Wazir of Sankharib[FN#7] the Sovran, and of the son of the wise man’s sister Nadan[FN#8] the Fool.
They relate that during the days of Sankharib the King, lord of Asur[FN#9] and Naynawah,[FN#10] there was a Sage, Haykar hight, Grand Wazir of that Sovran and his chief secretary, and he was a grandee of abundant opulence and ampliest livelihood: ware was he and wise, a philosopher, and endowed with lore and rede and experience. Now he had interwedded with threescore wives, for each and every of which he had builded in his palace her own bower; natheless he had not a boy to tend, and was he sore of sorrow therefor. So one day he gathered together the experts, astrologers and wizards, and related to them his case and complained of the condition caused by his barrenness. They made answer to him, “Get thee within and do sacrifice to the Godheads and enquire of them and implore their favour when haply shall they vouchsafe unto thee boon of babe.” He did whatso they bade and set corbans and victims before the images and craved their assistance, humbling himself with prayer and petition; withal they vouchsafed to him never a word of reply. So he fared forth in distress and disappointment and went his ways all disheartened. Then he returned in his humiliation to Almighty Allah[FN#11] and confided his secret unto Him and called for succour in the burning of his heart, and cried with a loud voice saying, “O God of Heaven and Earth, O Creator of all creatures, I beg Thee to vouchsafe unto me a son wherewith I may console my old age and who may become my heir, after being present at my death and closing my eyes and burying my body.” Hereat came a Voice from Heaven which said, “Inasmuch as at first thou trustedst in graven images and offeredst to them victims, so shalt thou remain childless, lacking sons and daughters. However, get thee up and take to thee Nadan, thy sister’s child; and, after taking this nephew to son, do thou inform him with thy learning and thy good breeding and thy sagesse, and demise to him that he inherit of thee after thy decease.” Hereupon the Sage adopted his nephew Nadan, who was then young in years and a suckling, that he might teach him and train him; so he entrusted him to eight wet-nurses and dry-nurses for feeding and rearing, and they brought him up on diet the choicest with delicatest nurture and clothed him with sendal and escarlate[FN#12] and dresses dyed with Alkermes,[FN#13] and his sitting
TMT.[FN#89]
Thehistory of al-Bundukani
or,
the
caliph harun al-Rashid and
the
daughter
of king Kisra.
In the name of Allah the Compassionating, the Compassionate, we here indite, by the aidance of the Almighty and His furtherance, the History of the Caliph Harun Al-Rashid and of the Daughter of Kisra the King.[FN#90]
It is related (but Allah is all-knowing of His secrets and all-kenning in whatso hath passed and preceded and preterlapsed of the annals of folk),[FN#91] that the Caliph (by whom I mean Harun al-Rashid) was sitting on the throne of his kingdom one chance day of the days which happened to be the fete of ’Arafat.[FN#92] And as he chanced to glance at Ja’afar the Barmaki, he said to him, “O Wazir, I desire to disguise myself and go down from my palace into the streets and wander about the highways of Baghdad that I may give alms to the mesquin and miserable and solace myself with a sight of the folk: so do thou hie with me nor let any know of our faring forth.” “With love and good will,” quoth Ja’afar. So his lord arose and passed from the audience-room into the inner palace where the two donned disguise and made small their sleeves and breasts[FN#93] and issued forth to circle about the thorough-fares of Baghdad and her market-streets, distributing charity to the poor and the paupers, until the last of the day. And whilst so doing, the Commander of the Faithful chanced to espy a woman seated at the head of a highway who had extended the hand of beggary, showing at the same time her wrist and crying, “Give me somewhat for the sake of Allah Almighty!” Hereat he considered her nicely and saw that her palm and her wrist were like whitest crystal and yet more brilliant in brightness. So he wondered thereat, and presently pulling a dinar from his breast-pocket he handed it to Ja’afar and said, “Bestow it upon yonder woman.” The Minister took the ducat and leaving his lord went up to her and placed it in her palm; and, when she closed her fingers thereupon, she felt that the coin was bigger than a copper or a silverling, so she looked thereat and saw that it was of gold. Hereupon she called after Ja’afar who had passed onwards, saying, “Ho, thou fair youth!” and when he came back to her she continued, “The dinar wherewith thou hast gifted me, is it for Allah’s sake or for other service?” Said he, “’Tis not from me, nay ’twas given by yonder Youth who sent it through me.” “Ask him,” she rejoined, “and tell me what may be his purport.” Ja’afar hied him back to the Caliph and reported her words, whereat his lord commanded him, “Go back and say thou to her ’tis for Almighty Allah’s sake.” The Minister did his master’s bidding when she replied “His reward be upon the Almighty.” Then the Wazir returned and reported the woman’s prayer to the Commander of the Faithful, who cried, “Hie thee to her and enquire an she be married or virginal; and, if she be unwedded, do thou ask her an she be willing to wive with me."[FN#94] So Ja’afar fared to her and questioned her, whereat she answered, “A spinster.” Quoth he, “The Youth who
“Breeze-waved 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 fellowed be her brow with fullest moon
that lights
the darks * When sun
must borrow morning light from that
fair forehead dazzling
bright, ah!
Were set in scales the fairest fair and balanced with
a long
compare * heir boasts,
thou haddest over-weight for beauty
and their charms were
light, ah!”
Now when he considered her straitly, she captured the whole of his heart. But the young lady had not upon her clothes enough for concealment, and here and there her body showed bare; so when she came forth and espied the young man standing by the old woman she withdrew into her bower and said to her mother, “Allah requite[FN#121] thee for that thou hast done. How can it be allowed thee by the Almighty to set me in this state before a stranger?” “Hold thy peace,” said her parent; “man is allowed to look, and if he have any art or part in the object looked at ’tis well; but thereafter if he look without its being his lot, then ’twere unlawful. This youth hath gazed upon thee, and if he prove to have a portion in thee let him take it, otherwise he may wend his ways, nor is there a flaw in aught of legal observance.” Hereat the Caliph’s heart was cheered, for he knew that the ancient dame meant to marry the maid. Anon quoth the old mother to the merchant, “Hast thou seen her?” and quoth he, “Yes.” “Did she please thee?” asked the crone, and he answered, “Yea verily,” adding, “How much may be her actual marriage-settlement and her contingent dower?” She replied, “The first shall consist of four thousand dinars and the second shall be the same."’ “This be overmuch,” rejoined the youth, “and more than all my good; to wit, four thousand gold pieces, the gift of which will send me forth to beg; but do thou take of me a thousand dinars, and upon me be the arraying of the house and the maiden’s raiment for another thousand; so will I do business and trade with the remainder.” But the crone sware to him by Allah the Almighty,[FN#122] that an the four thousand failed of a single gold piece he should never see of the damsel a single hair. He replied, “I have no power thereto and—good day to both of you;” and he made for the door, but the Caliph forewent him to the street and standing in a corner suffered him to pass and gang his gait. After this Harun went back to the old woman, and entering salam’d to her and she, returning his salutation, asked him, “What dost thou want and what may be thy wish?” He answered, “The young trader who went forth hence sent me to say that he hath no intent to wed,” and she rejoined, “On this mind the man hied away from us.” Then
“Whoreson and child of thousand pagans twain;
* Son of the Road
to lasting sin and bane;
The Lord of Ruth ne’er grew him e’en a
hair * Was not with this
or that of contact fain!"[FN#150]
Now this man, who was standing beside the Chief of Police, seized the opportunity of saying, “O Emir, what booteth our standing idle in this stead? Better ’twere that we break down the door and rush in upon them and snatch what we want and loot all the stuffs in the house.” Hereat came forward another lieutenant who was called Hasan[FN#151]—the Handsome—for that his face was fair and his works were fairer and he was a meeting-place of fairest deeds; and the same was wont to stand at the Wali’s door as a symbol of ruth to mankind. So he came forward and said, “O Emir, this were not the rede which is right and yonder man’s words lack good counsel, seeing that none hath complained against this folk and we know not an the accused be a thief or not: furthermore we fear consequences for that haply this merchant speaketh with an object, they having forbidden his marrying the girl: do not therefore cast thyself into that shall harm thee, but rather let us enquire anent the matter openly and publicly; and should it prove to be as reported, then the Emir’s opinion shall prevail.” All this took place while the old woman heard from behind the door whatso they said. Hereat she dried up with dread and affright and going within acquainted her daughter with what had occurred and ended with, “The Wali still is standing at the door.” The young lady was sore terrified and said to her mother, “Do thou bar[FN#152] the entrance till Allah haply deign bring us comfort.” So the old woman fared forth and bolted and barred it yet more straitly; and when they knocked a second time she acknowledged the rap by “Who is at the door?” and the lieutenant Shamamah replied
“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 Hur al-Ayn[FN#160]
* By the
tongue of looks to her
friends say we:—
’O Seeker, an soughtest the heart of me * Heart
of other thou
never hadst sought for
thee:
O lover, an filled thee my love thou ne’er *
’Mid lovers hadst
dealt me such tyranny.
Praise Him who made her an idol for man * And glory
to Him who to
her quoth ‘be’!’”
The Caliph was astonishment-struck at what he sighted of her beauty and loveliness whilst her mother stood before her saying, “O my child, how shall be our case with these tyrants,[FN#161] especially we being women and sans other recourse save Allah Almighty? Would Heaven I wot whence came to us this Robber who, had thy sire been on life, would have been far from able to stand at the door. But this is the doom of Destiny upon us by God’s will.” Replied the young lady, “O mother mine, and how long wilt thou put me to shame for this young man and call him ‘Robber,’ this whom the Almighty hath made my portion; and haply had he been a good man and no thief he had been given to some other?[FN#162] However he is my lot, and lauds to the Lord and gratitude for that He hath bestowed and made my portion.” When the ancient dame heard these words she pursued, “I hope to Heaven, O my daughter, that thy portion may not come hither this night, otherwise sore I fear they will seize him and do him a harm and well-away for his lost youthtide!” All this took place between mother and daughter whilst the Caliph stood upon the terrace-roof listening to their say, and presently he picked up a pebble the size of a vetchling[FN#163] and, setting it between his thumb and forefinger,
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,[FN#184] with the aidance of Allah Almighty, and invite the History of the Tarjumanah[FN#185] and the Kahramanah[FN#186] and the young man, the King’s son, and whatso happed between them of controversy and of contention and interrogation on various matters.
It is related (but Allah is All-knowing anent what passed and preceded us of the histories belonging to bygone peoples) that there reigned in a city of Roum[FN#187] a King of high degree and exalted dignity, a lord of power and puissance. But this Sovran was issue-less, so he ceased not to implore Allah Almighty that boon of babe might be vouchsafed to him, and presently the Lord had pity upon him and deigned grant him a man-child. He bade tend the young Prince with tenderest tending, and caused him to be taught every branch of knowledge, and the divine precepts of wisdom and morals and manners; nor did there remain aught of profitable learning wherein the Youth was not instructed; and upon this education the King expended a mint of money. Now after the Youth grew up Time rounded upon the Sovran his sire and his case was laid bare and he was perplext as to himself and he wotted not whatso he should ever do. Presently his son took heart to direct him aright, and asked, “O my father, say me, wilt thou give ear to that wherewith I would bespeak thee?” “Speak out,” quoth the King, “that is with thee of fair rede;” and quoth the youth, “Rise, O my sire, that we depart this city ere any be ware of our wending; so shall we find rest and issue from the straits of indigence now closing around us. In this place there is no return of livelihood to us and poverty hath emaciated us and we are set in the sorriest of conditions than which naught can be sorrier.” “O my child,” quoth his sire in reply, “admirable is this advice wherewith thou hast advised us, O my son, pious and dutiful; and be the affair now upon Allah and upon thee.” Hereupon the Youth gat all ready and arising one night took his father and mother without any being cognisant; and the three, entrusting themselves to the care of Allah Almighty, wandered forth from home. And they ceased not wandering over the wilds and the wolds till at last they saw upon their way a large city and a mighty fine; so they entered it and made for a place whereat they alighted. Presently the young Prince arose and went forth to stroll about the streets and take his solace; and whilst he walked about he asked concerning the city and who was its Sovran. They gave him tidings thereof saying, “This be the capital of a Sultan, equitable and high in honour amongst the Kings.” Hereupon returning to his father and mother, quoth he to them, “I desire to sell you as slaves to this Sultan,[FN#188] and what say ye?” Quoth they, “We have committed our case to Almighty Allah and then to thee, O our son; so do whatso thou wishest and judgest good.” Hereat the Prince, repairing to the Palace, craved leave to enter to the King and, having obtained such permission, made his obeisance in the presence. Now when the Sultan looked upon him he saw that his visitor was of the sons of the great, so he asked him, “What be thy need, Ho thou the Youth?” and the other made answer, “O my lord, thy slave is a merchant
Note to P. 82. {footnote [FN#219]]
The Musa (Moses) of the Moslems is borrowed from Jewish sources, the Pentateuch and especially the Talmud, with a trifle of Gnosticism which, hinted at in the Koran (chapt. xviii.), is developed by later writers, making him the “external” man, while Khizr, the Green prophet, is the internal. But they utterly ignore Manetho whose account of the Jewish legislator (Josephus against Apion, i. cc. 26, 27) shows the other or Egyptian part. Moses, by name Osarsiph=Osiris-Sapi, Osiris of the underworld, which some translate rich (Osii) in food (Siph, Seph, or Zef) was nicknamed Mosheh from the Heb. Mashah=to draw out, because drawn from the water[FN#230] (or rather from the Koptic Mo=water ushe=saved). He became a priest an An or On (Heliopolis), after studying the learning of the Egyptians. Presently he was chosen chief by the “lepers and other unclean persons” who had been permitted by King Amenophis to occupy the city Avaris lately left desolate
Schiller (in “Die Sendung Moses”) argues that the mission of the Jewish lawgiver, as adopted son (the real son?) of Pharoah’s daughter, became “learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,” by receiving the priestly education of the royal princes, and that he had advanced from grade to grade in the religious mysteries, even to the highest, in which the great truth of the One Supreme, the omniscient, omnipotent God was imparted, as the sublime acme of all human knowledge, thus attributing to Moses before his flight into Midian, an almost modern conception of an essentially anthropomorphous Deity.
Further, that his conscious mission when he returned to Egypt was not merely the deliverance of his people from the Egyptian yoke, but the revelation to them of this great conception, and so the elevation of that host of slaves to the position of a nation, to whose every member the highest mystery of religion should be known and whose institutions should be based upon it. It is remarkable that Schiller should have accepted the fables of Manetho as history, that he should not have suspected the fact that the Egyptian priest wrote from motives of personal spite and jealousy, and with the object of poisoning the mind of Ptolemy against the learned Jews with whom he stood on terms of personal friendship. Thus he not only accepts the story that the Hebrews were expelled from Egypt because of the almost universal spread of leprosy among them, but explains at length why that loathsome and horrible disease should have so prevailed. Still Schiller’s essay, written with his own charming eloquence, is a magnificent eulogy of the founder of the Hebrew nation.
Goethe ("Israel in der Wuste"), 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. 1. Genesis xxiv. 32 to xxv. 25 (Births of Jacob’s sons). 2. xxxv. 23-26 (Recapitulation of the above). 3. xlvi. 8-27 (List of Jacob and his sons, when they came into Egypt). 4. Ex. vi. 14-27 (Lineage of Aaron and Moses). 5. Numb. xxxvi. 1-2 (Lineage of Zelophehad). 6. Josh. vii. 17-18 (Lineage of Achan). 7. Ruth iv. 18-22 (ditto of David). 8. 1 Chron. ii. 9-15 (ditto). 9. Mat. i. 2-6 (ditto). 10. Luke iii. 32-37 (ditto). 11. Ezra vii. 1-5 (ditto of Ezra).
The lists of Princes, heads of tribes, the spies, the commission to divide conquered Palestine, contain names that can be traced back, and all coincide with the above.
B. 1. Gen. xv. 13. 2. Ex. xii. 40, 41. 3. Acts vii. 6.
These three give the 400 and the 430 years of the supposed bondage of the Bene Jacob, but are offset by Gen. xv. 16 (four generations) and Gal. iii. 17 (Paul’s understanding of the 430 years).
4. The story of Joseph, beginning Gen. xxxvii. 2, gives us the dates in his life; viz., 17 when sold, 30 when he becomes Prime Minister, 40 when his father joins him.
5. 1 Chron. vi. 1-15 (Lineage of Ezra’s brother Jehozadak, abounding in repetitions and worthless).
1. As between the two, the column A. is in my opinion more trustworthy than 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 130 he joined Joseph in Egypt (Gen. xlvii. 9). Joseph, therefore, born in Padan Aram was now, instead of 40, over 70 years old! That this is so, is certain. In Judah’s exquisite pleadings (Gen. xliv. 18-34) he speaks of Benjamin as “the child of Jacob’s old age,” “a little one,” and seven times he calls him “the lad.” Benjamin is some years younger than Joseph, but when the migration into Egypt takes place-a few weeks after Judah’s speech-Benjamin comes as father of ten sons (Gen. xlvi. 21), but here Bene Benjamin is used in its broad sense of “descendants,” for in 1 Chron. vii. 6-12 we find that the “Bene” were sons, grandsons and great-grandsons. To hold that Joseph at 40 had a younger brother who was a great-grandfather, is, of course, utterly absurd.
5. According to Gen. xv. 18, the Exodus was to take place in the fourth generation born in Egypt, as I understand it.
Born in Egypt:—
Levi (father of) Kohath Judah
(father of) Pharez
Hezron
1. Amram 1. Ram 2. Aaron 2. Amminadab 3. Eleazar 3. Nahshon 4. Phinees 4. Salma
A conspicuous character in Numbers (xiii. 6, 30; xiv. 24, etc.) is Caleb. In the first chapter of Judges Caleb still appears, and Othniel, the son of his younger brother Kenaz, is the first of the so-called Judges (Jud. iii. 9). This also disposes of the 400 years and confirms the view that the Exodus took place in the fourth generation born in Egypt. Other similar proofs may be omitted—these are amply sufficient.
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 Thormes down to the great invasion of the hordes from Asia Minor in the reign of Ramses iii., that country had never ceased to be a Pharaonic province; that during these four or five centuries every attempt to throw off the yoke had been crushed and its Semitic peoples deported to Egypt as slaves; that multitudes of them joined in the Exodus under Moses, and became incorporated with the Hebrews under the constitution and code adopted at Horeb (=Sinai? or Jebel Araif?). These people became “Seed of Abraham,” “Children of Israel,” by adoption, to which I have no doubt Paul refers in the “adoption” of Romans viii. 15-23; ix. 4; Gal. iv. 5; Eph. i. 5. In the lapse of ages this distinction between Bene Israel and Bene Jacob was forgotten, and therefore the very uncritical Masorites in their edition of the Old Testament “confounded the confusion” in this matter. With the disappearance of the 400 years and of the supposed two or three centuries covered by the book of Judges, the genealogies stand as facts. The mistake in the case of the Judges is in supposing them to have been consecutive, when, in fact, as the subjugations by neighbouring peoples were local and extended only over one or two tribes, half a dozen of them may have been contemporaneous.
7. Aaron and Moses were by their father Amram, great-grandchildren of Levi--by their mother his grandchildren (Ex. vi. 20). Joseph lived to see his own great-grandchildren. Moses must have been born before Joseph’s death.
8. There is one point determined in which the Hebrew and the Egyptian chronologies coincide. It is the invasion of Judea by Shishak of Egypt in the fifth year of Rehoboam, son of Solomon (1 Kings xiv. 25). Supposing the Egyptian chronology from the time of Minephtah ii. to be in the main correct, as given by Brugsch and others, the thirteen generations, Judah—Rehoboam, allowing three to a century, take us back to just that Minephtah. In his reign, according to Brugsch, Pharaoh sent breadstuffs to the Chittim in “the time of famine.” The Hebrew records and traditions connect Joseph’s prime ministry with a famine. By the genealogies it could have been only this in the time of Minephtah.
9. The Bene Jacob were but temporary sojourners in Goshen and always intended to return to Canaan. They were independent and had the right to do so. See what Joseph says in Gen. i. 24-25. But before this design was executed came the great irruption of the depopulated all Palestine, in the time of Ramses iii. Here was the opportunity for the Bene Jacob to enlarge their plans and to devise the conquest and possession of Palestine. According to Josephus, supported by Stephen (Acts vii. 22), Moses was a man
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
With an army of 60,000 only, and an aggregate of half a million of people led out of Egypt, all the history becomes instantly rational and trustworthy.
There remains one more bubble to be exploded.
Look at these figures, in which a quadruple increase—at least 25 per centum too great—is granted.[FN#233]
1st Generation, the Patriarchs, in number. . . . . . . . . . . 12 2nd Generation, Kohath, Pharez, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . ..48 3rd Generation, Amram, Hezron, etc.. . . . . . . . . . . . .192 4th Generation, Aaron and Moses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .768 Aggregate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,020 Minus 25 per cent. for deaths, children, etc.. . . . . . . . .255 Actual number of Bene Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .765
But Jacob and his sons brought with them herdsmen, shepherds, servants, etc. Bunsen puts the number of all, masters and men, at less than 2,000.
Let the proportion in this case be one able-bodied man in four persons, and the increase triple.
1st Generation, the Patriarchs, in number. . . . . . . . . . .500 2nd Generation, Kohath, Pharez, etc. . . . . . . . . . . .1,500 3rd Generation, Amram, Hezron, etc.. . . . . . . . . . . .4,500 4th Generation, Aaron and Moses. . . . . . . . . . . . . 13,500 20,000 Minus 25 per centum as above . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5,000 15,000 Add the real Bene Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .765
Aggregate. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15,765
Were these people, while Joseph is still alive, the subjects of slavery as described in Ex. i.? Did they build Pithom and Ramses, store-cities?
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
Thetale 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.[FN#234]
It is related (and Allah is All knowing!) of a certain man which was a Warlock, that Destiny crave him from town to town until at last he entered Baghdad city and dismounted at a Khan of the Khans where he spent the night of arrival. Then, rising betimes next morning, he walked about the highways and wandered around the lanes and he stinted not passing from market street to market street, solacing himself with a sight of many places, till he reached the Long Bazar, whence he could descry the whole site of the city. Now he narrowly considered the land, and, lo and behold! it was a capital sans peer amongst the cities, where-through coursed the Dajlah River blended with the River Furat[FN#235] and over the united stream were thrown seven bridges of boats; all these were bound one to other for the folk to pass over on their several pursuits, especially for the pleasure seekers who fared forth to the palm orchards and the vergiers abounding in fruits while the birds were hymning Allah, the Sole, the All-conquering. Now one day as this Warlock was amusing himself amongst the markets he passed by the shop of a Cook before whom were set for sale dressed meats of all kinds and colours;[FN#236] and, looking at the youth, he saw that he was rising fourteen and beautiful as the moon on the fourteenth night; and he was elegant and habited in a habit as it had just come from the tailor’s hand for its purity and excellent fit, and one had said that he (the artisan) had laboured hard thereat, for the sheen of it shimmered like unto silver.[FN#237] Then the Warlock considering the face of this Cook saw his colour wan as the hue of metal leaves[FN#238] and he was lean of limb;[FN#239] so he took station facing him and said to him, “The Peace be upon thee, O my brother,” and said the other in reply, “And upon thee be The Peace and the Truth of Allah and His blessings: so well come to thee and welcome and fair welcome. Honour me, O my lord, by suffering me to serve thee with the noonday meal.” Hereat the Wizard entered the shop and the Kitchener took up two or three platters white as the whitest silver; and, turning over into each one a different kind of meat set them between the hands of the stranger who said to him, “Seat thee, O my son.” And when his bidding was obeyed he added, “I see thee ailing and thy complexion is yellow exceedingly: what be this hath affected thee and what is thy disorder and what limb of thy limbs paineth thee and is it long since thou art in such case?” Now when the Cook heard this say he drew a sigh of regret from the depths of his heart and the soles of his feet and quoth he weeping, “Allah
Finis.
Thepleasant history of the cock
and the
fox.
Here we begin to indite the pleasant History which beset between the Cock and the Fox.[FN#273]
It is said that there abode in such a village a man which was a Shaykh of long standing, one gifted with fair rede and right understanding. Now he had on his farm a plenty of poultry, male and female, and these he was wont to breed and to eat of their eggs and their chickens. But amongst his cocks was a Chanticleer, well advanced of age and wily of wit, who had long fought with Fortune and who had become wise and ware in worldly matters and in the turns and shifts of Time. It fortuned one day that this Cock went forth to wander about the farm-lands pecking and picking up as he went such grains of wheat and barley and holcus[FN#274] and sesame and millet as chanced fall in his way; but, being careless of himself, he had left the village afar off without thinking of what he did, and ere he took counsel with himself he found him amiddlemost the wilderness. So he turned him rightwards and leftwards but espied nor friend nor familiar, whereat he stood perplext as to his affair and his breast was straitened and still he knew not what to do. Now while thus bewildered in his wits touching his next step, behold, his glance fell upon a Fox[FN#275] who was approaching him from afar, whereat he feared and trembled and was agitated with mighty great agitation. At once he turned him about and presently espied a high wall arising from the waste, whereto was no place of ascending for his foe; so he spread his wings and flew up and perched upon the coping where he took his station. Presently the Fox came forward to the foot of the wall, and, finding no means of climbing it and getting at the fowl, he raised his head and said, “The Peace be upon thee, Ho thou the soothfast brother and suitable friend!” But as the Cock would not turn towards him nor return aught of reply to his salutation, the Fox resumed, “What is to do with thee, O dear my brother, that my greeting thou acknowledgest not and to my words inclinest thee not?” Still the Cock requited not his courtesy and declined to reply, whereat the Fox resumed, “Wottest thou not, O my brother, the glad tidings wherewith I came theewards, with what suitable intelligence and counsel veridical and information at once sincere and self-evident? and, didst know what it is hath come to mine ears, verily thou hadst embraced me and kissed me on the mouth.” But the Cock feigned absence of mind and ignored him and answered him naught, but stood with rounded eyes and fixed upon the far when the Fox resumed, “O my brother, the King of the Beasts which be the Lion and the King of the Birds which be the Eagle have alighted from a journey upon the meads where grass is a-growing and by the marge where waters are a-flowing and blossoms are a-blowing and browsing gazelles are a-to-ing and a-fro-ing; and the twain have gathered together all manner of ferals, lions and hyenas, leopards and lynxes, wild cattle and antelopes and jackals and even hares, brief, all the wild beasts of the world; and they have also collected every kind of bird, eagle and vulture, crow and raven,[FN#276]
Finis.
History of what
befel the fowl-let with the
Fowler
Here we begin to invite the History of what befel the Fowl-let from the Fowler.[FN#281]
They relate (but Allah is All-knowing) that there abode in Baghdad-city a huntsman-wight in venerie trained aright. Now one day he went forth to the chase taking with him nets and springes and other gear he needed and fared to a garden-site with trees bedight and branches interlaced tight wherein all the fowls did unite; and arriving at a tangled copse he planted his trap in the ground and he looked around for a hiding-place and took seat therein concealed. Suddenly a Birdie approaching the trap-side began scraping the earth and, wandering round about it, fell to saying in himself, “What may this be? Would Heaven I wot, for it seemeth naught save a marvellous creation of Allah!” Presently he considered the decoy which was half buried in the ground and
’Fly folk, in public ne’er appearing,
* And men shall name thee
man God-fearing;[FN#283]
Nor say I’ve brother, mate and friend:
* Try men with mind still
persevering:
Yea, few are they as thou couldst wish: * Scorpions
they prove
when most endearing.’[FN#284]
And one of the Sages hath said, ‘Solitude and not ill associate.’ Also quoth they to Al-Bahlul,[FN#285] ’Why this tarrying of thine amid the homes of the dead and why this sojourning in a barren stead and wherefore this farness from kinsmen and mate and lack of neighbourly love for brother and intimate?’ But quoth he, ’Woe to you! my folk did I dwell amongst them would some day unlove me and the while I abide far from them will never reprove me; not indeed would they remember my affection nor would they desire my predilection; and so satisfied with my solitude am I that an I saw my family I should start away as in fear of them, and were my parent quickened anew and longed for my society verily I would take flight from them.’ " Replied the Fowl-let, “In good sooth, O my brother, truth thou hast pronounced in all by thee announced and the best of rede did from thee proceed; but tell me, prithee, anent that cord about thy middle wound and despite thine expending efforts that abound why thou art neither a-standing nor a-sitting on ground?” To him replied the Trap, “O my brother, learn that I spend every night of every month in prayer, during which exercise whenever sleep would seize me I tighten this cord about my waist and drive slumber from my eyes and become therefrom the more wide-awake for my orisons. Know thou also that Allah (be He glorified and magnified!) affectioneth his servants when devout are they, and stand in worship alway, ever dight to pray and praise Him by night and by day; and who turn on their sides loving the Lord to obey in desire and dismay and doling their good away. And quoth Allah (be He glorified and magnified!), ’And for scanty while of the night they take not gentle rest and at rising morn His pardon they obtest and their Lord granteth unto them their request.’ [FN#286] And wottest thou not, O my brother, what said the poet?
’These busy are with worldly gear * Those of
their moneys proud
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.’ “[FN#287] Replied the Birdie, “The truth thou hast told in whatso thou dost unfold, but why do I see thee so bent of back?” and rejoined the Trap, “Learn, O my brother, that the cause for this bowing of my back is my frequent standing in prayer by day and my upstanding by night in the service of the King, the Clement, the One, the Prepotent, the Glorious, the Omnipotent; and verily upon this matter right well the poet hath spoken,
’None save the pious Youth gains boon of Paradise
* (To whom the
Lord doth pardon crime
and sin and vice),
Whose back by constant prayer through murk o’
night is bent * And
longs to merit Heaven
in sore and painful guise.
Hail to the slave who ever would his lord obey * And
who by death
is saved when he obedient
dies.’ "
The Fowl-let continued, “O my brother, of truth the token is that whereof thou hast spoken and I have understood thee and am certified of thy sooth. But yet, I see upon thee a robe[FN#288] of hair!” and the Trap rejoined, “O my brother, knowest thou not of hair and wool that they be the wear of the pious and the religious, whereof one of the poets hath spoken in these words,
’Folk who in fear of long accompt[FN#289] for
naught of worldly
care * Hail to them!
haply garb of wool they’ll change for
silken wear:
In life for provaunt shall suffice them salt and barley
bread *
Who seek th’ Almighty
Lord and bow the head in sedulous
pray’r.’
"
The Birdie resumed, “In very deed thy speech the sooth doth teach; but say me what be this staff[FN#290] thou hendest in hand?” Replied the Trap, “O my brother, know that I have become an olden man well shotten in years and my strength is minished, wherefor I have taken me a staff that I may prop me thereon and that it aid my endeavour when a-fasting.” The Fowl-let pursued, “Thy speech is true, O my brother, and thou speakest as due, yet would I ask thee of a matter nor refuse me information thereanent: tell me why and wherefore this plenty of grain scattered all about thee?” The Trap answered, “Indeed the merchants and men of wealth bring to me this victual that I may bestow it in charity upon the Fakir and the famisht;” and the Birdie rejoined, “O my brother, I also am an hungered; so dost thou enjoin me to eat thereof?” “Thou art my companion,” cried the Trap, “so upon me such injunction is a bounden duty,” presently adding, “Be so kind, O my brother, and haste thee hither and eat.” Hereat the Fowl-let flew down from off his tree and approaching little by little (with a heart beating for fear of the Trap) picked up a few grains which lay beside it until he came to the corn set in the loop of the springe. Hereupon he pecked at it with one peck nor had he gained aught of good therefrom ere the Trap came down heavily upon him and entangled his neck and held him fast. Hereupon he was seized with a fit of sore affright and he cried out, “Zik! zik!” and “Mik! mik![FN#291] Verily I have fallen into wreak and am betrayed by friendly freke and oh, the excess of my trouble and tweak, Zik, Zik! O Thou who keenest my case, do Thou enable me escape to seek, and save me from these straits unique and be Thou ruthful to me the meek!” Thereupon quoth to him the Trap, “Thou criest out Zik! Zik! and hast fallen into straits unique and hast strayed from the way didst seek, O Miscreant and Zindik,[FN#292] and naught shall avail thee at
“O Birder, my mother’s in misery * And
blind with weeping my loss
is she.
I suffice not thy guest nor can serve for gift:
* Have ruth and
compassion and set me
free!
With my parents I’ll bless thee and then will
I * Fly a-morn and
at e’en-tide return
to thee.”
Presently resumed he, “Seest thou not how my meat be mean and my maw be lean; nor verily can I stand thee in stead of cate nor thy hunger satiate: so fear Allah and set me at liberty then shall the Almighty requite thee with an abundant requital.” But the Fowler, far from heeding his words, made him over to his son saying, “O my child, take this bird and faring homewards slaughter him and of him cook for us a cumin ragout and a lemonstew, a mess flavoured with verjuice and a second of mushrooms and a third with pomegranate seeds and a fourth of clotted curd[FN#295] cooked with Summak,[FN#296] and a fine fry and eke conserves of pears[FN#297] and quinces and apples and apricots hight the rose-water and vermicelli[FN#298] and Sikbaj;[FN#299] and meat dressed with the six leaves and a porridge[FN#300] and a rice-milk, and an ’Ajijiyah[FN#301] and fried flesh in strips and Kababs 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 ’Anka, daughter of Life, or were I the she-camel of Salih to be, or the ram of Isaac the sacrificed, or the loquent calf of Al-Samiri [FN#302] or even a buffalo fattened daintily all this by thee mentioned had never come from me.” Hereat he fell to improvising and saying,
“The Ruthful forbiddeth the eating of me * And
His Grace doth
grace me with clemency:
A Camel am I whom they overload * And the Birder is
daft when my
flesh seeth he:
Prom Solomon’s breed, O my God, I have hope:
* If he kill me the
Ruthful his drowning[FN#303]
decree.’?
Then quoth the Fowl to the Fowler, “An thou design to slaughter me in thy greed even as thou hast described, verily I shall avail thee naught, but an thou work my weal and set me free I will show thee somewhat shall profit thee and further the fortunes of thy sons’ sons and thy latest descendants.” “What is that direction thou wouldst deal to me?” asked the Fowler, and answered the Fowl-let, “I will teach a trio of words all wise and will discover to thee in this earth a Hoard wherewith thou and thy seed and posterity shall ever be satisfied and shall ever pray for the lengthening of my years. Moreover I will point out to thee a pair of Falcons ashen-grey, big of body and burly of bulk who are to me true friends and whom thou didst leave in the gardens untrapped.” Asked the Birder, “And what be the three words which so savour of wisdom?” and answered the other “O Fowler, the three words of wisdom are:—Bemourn not what is the past nor at the future rejoice too fast nor believe aught save that whereon thy glance is cast. But as regards the Hoard and the two Falcons, when thou shalt have released me I will point them out to thee and right soon to thee shall be shown the sooth of whatso I have said to thee.” Hereat the Birder’s heart became well affected toward the Birdie for his joy anent the Treasure and the Falcons; and the device of the captive deceived the Capturer and cut short his wits so that he at once released the prey. Forthright the Fowl-let flew forth the Fowler’s palm in huge delight at having saved his life from death; then, after preening his plume and spreading his pinions and his wings, he laughed until he was like to fall earthwards in a fainting fit Anon he began to gaze right and left, long breaths a drawing and increase of gladness ever a showing; whereupon quoth the Birder, “O Father of Flight, O thou The Wind hight! what saidst thou to me anent pointing out the two Falcons ashen-grey and who were the comrades thou leftest in the gardens?” Quoth the Birdie in reply, “slack and alas! never saw I thy like for an ass nor aught than thyself meaner of capacity nor mightier of imbecility; for indeed thou carries” in thy head lightness and in thy wits slackness. O Scant of Sense, when sawest thou ever a sparrow company with a Falcon, much less with two Falcons? So short is thine understanding that I have escaped thy hand by devising the simplest device which my nous and knowledge suggested.” Hereat he began to improvis and repeat:
“When Fortune easy was, from duty[FN#304] didst
forbear * Nor
from that malady[FN#305]
hast safety or repair:
Then blame thyself nor cast on other wight[FN#306]
the fault *
And lacking all excuse
to death of misery fare!”
Then resumed the Fowl-let, “Woe to thee, O mean and mesquin thou wottedst not that which thou hast lost in me, for indeed baulked is thy bent and foiled is thy fortune and near to thee is poverty and nigh to thee is obscurity. Hadst thou when taking me cut my throat and cloven my crop thou hadst found therein a jewel the weight of an ounce which I picked up and swallowed from the treasury of Kisra Anushirwan the King.” But when the Birder heard the Birdie’s words he scattered dust upon his head and buffeted his face and plucked out his beard and rent his raiment, and at last slipped down a swooning to the ground. And presently recovering his senses he looked towards his late captive and cried, “O Father of Flight, O thou The Wind hight say me is there any return for thee me-wards, where thou shalt with me abide, and thee within the apple of mine eye will I hide, and after all this toil and turmoil I will perfume and fumigate thee with ambergris and with Comorin lign-aloes, and I will bring thee sugar for food and nuts of the pine[FN#307] and with me thou shalt tarry in highmost degree?” Replied the Birdie, “O miserable, past is that which passed; I mean, suffice me not thy fraud and thy flattering falsehood. And laud to the Lord, O thou meanest of men, how soon hast thou forgotten the three charges wherewith I charged thee! And how short are thy wits seeing that the whole of me weighteth not ten drachms[FN#308] and how then can I bear in crop a jewel weighing an ounce? How far from thee is subtilty and how speedily hast thou forgotten mine injunctions wherewith I enjoined thee saying, ’Believe not aught save that whereon thine eye is cast nor regret and bemourn the past nor at what cometh rejoice too fast.’ These words of wisdom are clean gone from thy memory, and hadst thou been nimble of wits thou hadst slaughtered me forthright: however, Alhamdolillah—Glory to God, who caused me not to savour the whittle’s sharp edge, and I thank my Lord for my escape and for the loosing of my prosperity from the trap of trouble.” Now when the Birder heard these words of the Birdie he repented and regretted his folly, and he cried, “O my sorrow for what failed me of the slaughter of this volatile,” and as he sank on the ground he sang,[FN#309]
“O brave was the boon which I held in my right
* Yet O Maker of
man, ’twas in
self despight.
Had my lot and my luck been of opulence, * This emptiness
never
had proved my plight.”
Hereupon the Fowl let farewelled the Fowler and took flight until he reached his home and household, where he seated him and recited all that had befallen him with the Birder, to wit, how the man had captured him, and how he had escaped by sleight, and he fell to improvising,
“I charged you, O brood of my nestlings, and
said, * Ware yon
Wady, nor seek to draw
near a stead
Where sitteth a man who with trap and with stakes
* Entrapped me,
drew knife and would
do me dead.
And he longed to destroy me, O children, but I * Was
saved by the
Lord and to you was
sped.”
And here endeth the History of the Fowl let and the Fowler entire and complete.
M.
The Tale of Attaf.
Here we begin to write and invite the Tale of a man of Syria, Attaf hight.[FN#310]
They relate (but Allah is All-knowing of His unknown and All-cognisant of what forewent in the annals of folk and the wonders of yore, and of times long gone before!) that in the city of Sham[FN#311] there dwelt of old a man Attaf hight, who rivalled Hatim of Tayy[FN#312] in his generosity and his guest-love and in his self-control as to manners and morals. Now he lived in the years when the Caliph Harun al-Rashid was reigning in Baghdad-city, and it happened on a day of the days that this Commander of the Faithful awoke morne and melancholic, and right straitened was his breast. So he arose, and taking Ja’afar the Barmecide and Mastur the Eunuch passed with them into the place where his treasures were stored. Presently quoth he to the Wazir, “O Ja’araf, open to me this door that I may solace me with the sight, and my breast may be broadened and haply be gladdened by such spectacle.” The Minister did the bidding of his lord, who, finding a room full of books, put forth his hand, and taking up one of the volumes, opened and read. Thenhe fell to weeping thrice, and thrice to laughing aloud,[FN#313] whereat the Wazir considered him and cried, “O King of the Age, how is it I espy thee reading and weeping and laughing at one and the same moment when none so act save madmen and maniacs?"[FN#314] And having spoken on this wise he held his peace; but the Prince of True Believers turned himwards and cried, “O dog of the sons of Bermak, I see thee going beyond thy degree and quitting the company of sensible men, and thou speakest vainly making me a madman in saying, ’None laugh and cry at one and the same time save maniacs?’” With these words the Caliph restored the volume to its place in the Treasury and bade lock the door, after which the three returned to the Divan. Here the Commander of the Faithful regarded Ja’afar and exclaimed, “Go thou forth from before me and address me not again nor seat thee upon the Wazirial seat until thou answer thine own question and thou return me a reply concerning that which is writ and aligned in yonder book I was reading, to the end thou learn why I wept and wherefore I laught at one and the same hour.” And he cried at him in anger saying, “Off and away with thee, nor face me again save with the answer, else will I slay thee with the foulest of slaughter.” Accordingly Ja’afar fared forth and hardly could he see with his eyes, and he kept saying to himself, “Indeed I have fallen with a sore fall; foul befal it for a fall; how fulsome it is!” Then he fared homewards where he encountered face to face his father Yahya 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
Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, of New York, a correspondent who already on sundry occasions has rendered me able aid and advice, was kind enough to send me his copy of the Tale of Attaf (the “C. Ms.” of the foregoing pages). It is a small 4to of pp. 334, size 5 3/4 by 8 inches, with many of the leaves injured and repaired; and written in a variety of handwritings, here a mere scribble, there regular and legible as printed Arabic. A fly-leaf inserted into the Arabic binding contains in cursive hand the title, “A Book embracing many Tales of the Tales of the Kings and named ’Stories from the Thousand Nights and a Night’.” And a note at the end supplies the date: “And the finish thereof was on Fifth Day (Thursday), 9th from
The “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.
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 or the orthodox and he was Harun er-Rashid who one night became very restless and from the drowsiness that came upon him he sat down upon the bed and dressed himself in sleeping-clothes; then it was that he called
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.
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 Teniyat al-Igab 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 Dibaj, 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 hte moment when the youth was rising upon his feet, and he stretched out his two hands and saluted him as if he had always known him, and after he had chanted the prayer to the envoy (of Allah) he sang:—
O my visitor be welcome, thou enlivenest us and bringest us our union: By thy face I live when it appears and I die if it disappears.
Then he said to Ja’afar, Please be seated, my dear sir; thanks be to God for your happy arrival; and he continued his chant after another prayer to the envoy (of God):—
If we had known of thy arrival we would have covered
(thy) heart with the black
of our eyes,
And we would have spread the street with out cheeks
that thy coming might have
been between our eyelids.
After that he arose, kissed the breast of Ja’afar, magnified his power and said to him, O my Master, this day is a happy one and were it not a fast-day I would have fasted for thee to render thanks to God. Then came up the servants to whom he said, Bring us what is ready. They spread the table of viands and the youth said, O my lord, the Sages say, If you are invited content yourself with what’s before you, but if you are not invited, stay not and visit not again; if we had known that you would arrive to-day we would have sacrified the flesh of our bodies and our children. Ja’afar said, I put out my hand and I ate until I was satisfied, while he was presenting me with his hand the delicate morsels and taking pleasure in entertaining me. When we had finished they brought the ewer and basin, we washed our hands and we passed into the drinking room where he told the damsel to sing. She took up her lute, tuned it, and holding it against her breast she began:—
A visitor of whom the sight is venerated by all, sweeter
than either spirit or
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 portiere was suspended a lamp by a golden chain.
Society became perfectly brilliant in its beauty and shone in the eclat of its magnificience.
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 enteretained Ja’afar with the news of the day and of the subjects and anecdotes of the great pieces of poetry and said to him, O my lord, load not thyself with cares. The Rawi says that they continued living in the same way for forty days and on the forty-first Ja’afar said to the young man, Know, O my lord, that I have left my country neither for eating nor for drinking, but to divert myself and to see the world; but if God vouchsafe my return to my country to talk to my people, my neighbours and frieds, and they ask me where I have been and what I have seen, I will tell them of your generosity and of the great benefactions that you have heaped upon me in your country of Damascus. I will say that I have sighted this and that, and thus I will entertain them with what I have espied in Damascus and of its order. The young man replied, Thou sayest true: and Ja’afar said, I desire to go out and visit the city, its bazars and its streets, to which the young man answered, With love and good will, to-morrow morning if it please Allah. That night Ja’afar slept there and when God brought the day, he rose, went in to the young man, wished him good morning and said to him, O my lord, thy promise! to which he replied, With love and good will; and, ordering a white dress for him, he handed him a purse of three hundred dinars saying, Bestow this in charity and return quick after thou hast made thy visit, and lastly said to his servants, Bring to your lord a horse to ride. But Ja’afar answered, I do not wish to have one, for a rider cannot
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’udi 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 thoguht of her beauty and the elegance of her stature and perfect proportions and of what Allah (to whom be praise!) had granted her of magnificence. He forgot all that happened to him in other days and also his affair with the Caliph and his people and his friends and his society. Such was the burden of his thoughts until he was taken with monomania and his body wasted. Hereupon Attaf sent for doctors, they surrounded him constantly, they employed all their talents for him, but they could find no remedy. So he remained during a certain time without anyone being able to discover what was the matter with him. The breast of Attaf became straitened, he renounced all diversions and pleasures, and Ja’afar getting worse and worse, his trouble augmented. One day a new doctor arrived, a man of experience in the art of gallantry, whose name was Dabdihkan. When he came to Ja’afar and looked at his face and felt his pulse and found everything in its place, no suffering, no pain, he comprehended that he was in love, so he took a paper and wrote a prescription and placed it beneath Ja’afar’s head. He then said, Thy remedy is under thy head, I’ve prescribed a purge, if thou take it thou wilt get well, for he was ashamed to tell Attaf his love-sick condition. Presently, the Doctor went away to other patients and Attaf arose and when about entering to see Ja’afar he heard him recite the following verses:—
A doctor came to me one day and took my hand and pulse,
when I said to him Let
go my hand, the fire’s
in my heart.
He said, Drink syrup of the rose and mix it well with
water of the tongue but
tell it not to anyone:
I said, The syrup of the rose is quite well known
to me; it is the water of the
cheek that breaks my
very heart;
But can it be that I can get the water of the tongue
that I may cool the burning
fire that within me
dwells?
The doctor said, Thou art in love, I said Yes to him,
and said he to me, Its
remedy is to have the
body here.
Then when Attaf went in to him after the end of the recitation he sat down at the head of the bed and asked him about his condition and what had been perscribed for him by the Hakim. Ja’afar said, O my lord, he wrote for me a paper which is under the pillow. Attaf put out his hand, took the paper and read it and found upon it written:—“In the name of God the Curer—To be taken, with the aid and blessing of God, 3 miskals of pure presence of the beloved unmixed with morsels of absence and fear of being watched: plus, 3 miskals of a good meeting cleared of any grain of abandonment and rupture: plus, 2 okes of pure friendship and discretion deprived of the wood of separation. Then take some extract of the incense of the kiss, the teeth and the waist, 2 miskals of each; also take 100 kisses of pomegranate rubbed and rounded, of which 50 small ones are to be sugared, 30 pigeon-fashion and 20 after the fashion of little birds. Take of Aleppine twist and sigh of Al-Iraq 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 dibaqy divan and add to it 2 okes of saliva syrup and drink it fasting during 3 days. Next take for dinner the melon of desire mixed with embrace-almond and juice of the lemon of concord, and lastly 3 rolls of thigh-work and enter the bath for the benefit of your health. And—The Peace!” When Attaf had finished reading of this paper he burst into a laugh at the prescription and, turning to Ja’afar, he asked him with whom he was in love and of whom he was enamoured. Ja’afar gave no answer, he spoke not neither did he commence any discourse, when Attaf said, O my brother, thou are not my friend, but thou art in my house esteemed as is the soul in the body. Between me and thee there has been for the last four months friendship, company, companionship and conversation. Why then conceal thy situation? For me, I have fear and sorrow on thine account. Thou art a stranger, thou art not of this capital. I am a son of this city, I can dispel what thou hast (of trouble) and that of which thou sufferest. By my life, which belongs to you, by the bread and salt
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 foward and travelled on day and night. Now Er-Rashid, after the departure of Ja’afar, became uneasy and sorrowful at his absence. He lost patience and was tormented with a great desire to see him again, while he regretted the conditions he had imposed as impossible to be complied with and obliging him to the extremity of tramping about the country like a vagabond, and forcing him to abandon his native land. He had sent envoys after him to search for him in every place, but he had never received any news of him, and was cast into great embarrassment by reason of his absence. He was always waiting to hear of him, and when Ja’afar had approached Baghdad and he, Er-Rashid, had received the good tidings of his coming, he went forth to meet him, and as soon as they came together they embraced each other, and the Caliph became content and joyful. They entered together into the palace and the Prince of True Believers seating Ja’afar at his side, said to him, Relate to me thy story where thou hast been during thine absence and what thou hast come upon. So Ja’afar told him then all that had happened from the time he left him until the moment of finding himself between his hands. Er-Rashid was greatly astonished and said, Wallahy, thou hast made me sorrowful for thine absence, and hast inspired me with great desire to see thy friend. My opinion is that thou divorce this young lady and put her on the road homeward accompanied by someone in whom thou hast confidence. If thy friend have an enemy he shall be our enemy, and if he have a friend he also shall be ours; after which we will make him come to us, and we shall see him and have the pleasure of hearing him and pass the time with him in joy.
Confide thy affairs to thy Creator; set aside thy pains and dismiss thy thoughts.
Then Attaf went to a paper-seller and got from him a piece of paper and borrowed an inkstand and wrote as follows:—From thy brother Attaf whom God knoweth. Let him who hath possessed the world not flatter himself, he will some day be cast down and will lose it in his bitter fate. If thou see me thou wilt not recognise me for my poverty and my misery; and, because of the change in situation and the reverses of the times, my soul and body are reduced by hunger, by the long journey I have made, until at last I have come to thee. And peace be with thee. Then he folded the paper and returning the pencase to its owner asked for the house of Ja’afar, and when it was shown to him he went there and stood at a distance before it. The doorkeepers saw him standing, neither commencing nor repeating a word, and nobody spoke to him, but as he was thus standing embarassed, an eunuch dressed in a striped robe and golden belt passed by him. Attaf remained, motionless before him, then went up to him, kissed his hands and said to him, O my lord, the Apostle of Allah (upon whom be peace and salutation) hath said, The medium of a good deed is like him who did it, and he who did it belongeth to the dwellers in heaven. The man said to him, What is thy need? and said he, I desire of thy goodness to send in this paper to thy lord and say to him, Thy brother Attaf is standing at the door. When the servant heard his words he got into a great and excessive rage so that his eyes swelled in his head and he asked, O cursed one, thou art then the brother of the Wazir Ja’afar! and as he had in his hand a rod with a golden end, he struck Attaf with it in the face and his blood flowed and he fell full length to the ground in his weakness from weeping and from receiving the blow. The Rawi says that God hath placed the instinct of good in the heart of some domestics, even as he hath placed that of evil in the heart of others. Another of the domestics was raised up against his companion by good will to Attaf and reproved him for striking the stranger and was answered, Didst thou not hear, O brother, that he pretended to be the brother of the Wazir Ja’afar? and the second one said, O man of evil, son of evil, slave of evil, O cursed one, O hog! is Ja’afar one of the prophets? is he not a dog of the earth like ourselves? Men are all brethren, of one father and one mother, of Adam and of Eve; and the poet hath said:—
Men by comparison all are brethren, their father is Adam their mother is Eve;
but certain people are preferable to others. Then he came up to Attaf and made him be seated and wiped off the blood from his face and washed him and shook off the dust that was upon him and said, O my brother, what is thy need? and said he, My need is the sending of this paper to Ja’afar. The servant took the paper from his hand and going in to Ja’afar the Barmeky found there the officers of the Governor and the Barmekys standing at his service on his right and on his left; and Ja’afar the Wazir who held in his hand a cup of wine was reciting poetry and playing and saying, O you all here assembled, the absent from the eye is not like the present in the heart; he is my brother and my friend and my benefactor, Attaf of Damascus, who was continuous in his generosity and his bounty and his benfactions to me; who for me divorced his cousin-wife and gave her to me. He made me presents of horses and slaves and damsels and stuffs in quantities that I might furnish her dower; and, if he had not acted thus, I should certainly have been ruined. He was my benefactor without knowing who I was, and generous to me without any idea of profiting by it. The Rawi says that when the good servant heard these words from his lord he rejoiced and coming forward he kneeled down before him and presented the paper. When Ja’afar read it he was in a state of intoxication and not being able to discern what he was doing he fell on his face to the floor while holding the paper and the glass in his hand, and he was wounded in the forehead so his blood ran and he fainted and the paper fell from his grasp. When the servant saw that he hastened to depart fearing the consequence; and the Wazir Ja’afar’s friends seated their lord and staunched the blood. They exclaimed, There is no power and strength but in God the High, the Mighty. Such is the character of servants; they trouble the life of kings in their pleasures and annoy them in their humours: Wallahy, the writer of this paper merits nothing less than to be handed over to the Wali who shall give him five hundred lashes and put him in prison. Thereupon the Wazir’s doorkeeper went out and asked for the owner of the paper, when Attaf answered, ’Tis I, O my lord. Then they seized him and sent him to the Wali and ordered him to give one hundred blows of the stick to the prisoner and to write upon his chain “for life.” Thus they did with Attaf and carried him to the prison where he remained for two months when a child was born to Harun er-Rashid, who then ordered that alms should be distributed, and good done to all, and bade liberate all that were in prison and among those that were set free was Attaf. When he found himself out of gaol, beaten and famished and naked, he looked up to heaven and exclaimed, Thanks be to thee, O Lord, in every situation, and crying said, It must be for some fault committed by me in the past, for God had taken me into favour and I have said repaid Him in disobedience; but I pray to Him for pardon for having gone too far in my debauchery. Then he recited these verses:—
O God! the worshipper doth what he should not do; he is poor, depending on Thee: In the pleasures of life he forgetteth himself, in his ignorance, pardon Thou his 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 teh part of the Naib, 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
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
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 Wari says that two days afterwards Ja’afar restored to his friend Attaf his beloved cousin-wife, saying to him, I have divorced her and now I deliver over to thee intact the precious deposit that thou didst place in my hands. Already hath the order from the Caliph been despatched to Damascus enjoining the arrest of the 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-Rashid contented himself with commuting the sentence to banishment. Attaf governed his people many years with justice and prosperity, protector of his happy subjects and in the enjoyment of the delights and pleasures of life, until the Angel of Death overtook him and summoned him to Paradise.
History of prince Habib
And what befel him with the
Lady Durrat al-Ghawwas.
Here we begin to indite the history of Sultan Habib and of what befel him with Durrat al-Ghawwas.[FN#378]
It is related (but Allah is All-knowing of His unknown and All-cognisant of what took place and forewent in the annals of folk!) that there was, in days of yore and in times and tides long gone before, a tribe of the tribes of the Arabs hight Banu Hilal[FN#379] whose head men were the Emir Hilal and the Emir Salamah.[FN#380] Now this Emir Salamah had well nigh told out his tale of days without having been blessed with boon of child; withal he was a ruler valiant, masterful, a fender of his foes and a noble knight of portly presence. He numbered by the thousand horsemen the notablest
“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 Kazi amongst the Jinns and I was enthroned amid the Kings of the Jann, whenas one night of the nights a Voice[FN#385] addressed me in my sleep saying, ’Rise and hie thee to the Sultan Habib son of the Emir Salamah ruler of the tribes of the Arabs subject to the Banu Hilal and become his tutor and teach him all things teachable; and, if thou gainsay going, I will tear thy soul from
“And what shall, O Shaykh, to us fall forthright?”
* Quoth he,
“Sore marvels
shall meet your sight:
No heart have I to describe it you.” * Then
approached Habib the
same tutor-wight;
And clasping the youth to the breast of him, * Kissed
his cheek a-
shrieking the shrillest
shright.[FN#388]
Whereupon all about them were perturbed and were amated and amazed at the action of the Shaykh when, vanishing from their view, he could nowhere be seen. Then the Emir Salamah addressed the lieges saying, “Ho ye Arabs, who wotteth what presently shall betide my son? would Heaven I had one to advise him!” Hereupon said his Elders and Councillors, “We know of none.” But the Sultan Habib brooded over the disappearance of his governor and bespake his sire weeping bitter tears the while, “O my father, where be he who brought me up and enformed me with all manner knowledge?” and the Emir replied, “O my son, one day of the days he farewelled us and crying out with a loud cry evanished from our view and we have seen him no more.” Thereupon the youth improvised and said,
“Indeed I am scourged by those ills whereof
I felt affray, ah! * By
parting and thoughts
which oft 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 Maydan; 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 Daud[FN#389] the Prophet (upon whom be The Peace!). Moreover he hent in hand a mace erst a block cut out of the live hard rock, whose shock would arrest forty braves of the doughtiest; and he was baldrick’d with an Indian blade that quivered in the grasp, and he bestrode, with a Samhari[FN#390] lance at rest, a bay destrier of black points whose peer was not amongst the steeds of the Arabs. Then he took his station standing as a vassal between the Emir Salamah’s hands and he addressed a general salam and he greeted all that stood a-foot or were seated. His salute they repealed and presently the pages hastened forwards and aided him alight from his charger’s back; and after waiting for a full-told hour that he might take somewhat of repose, the stranger-knight and doughty wight advanced and said, “Ho thou the Emir, I came hither to fulfil the want whereof thou expressedst a wish; and, if such prove thy pleasure, I will teach thy son fray and fight and prowess in the plain of sword-stroke and lance-lunge. But ere so doing I would fain test thy skill in cavalarice; so do thou, O Emir, be first to appear as champion and single combatant in the field when I will show thee what horsemanship is.” “Hearkening and obeying,” replied the Emir, “and if thou desire the duello with us we will not baulk thee thereof.” Hereat his Shaykhs and Chieftains sprang up and cried to him, “O Emir, Allah upon thee, do not meet in fight this cavalier for that thou wottest not an he be of mankind or of Jinn-kind; so be thou not deceived by his sleights and snares.” “Suffer me this day,” quoth the Emir, “to see the cavalarice of this cavalier, and, if over me he prevail, know him to be a knight with whom none may avail.” Speaking thus the Emir arose and hied him to his tent where he bade the slaves bring forth the best of his habergeons; and, when all these were set before him, he took from them a Davidian suit of manifold rings and close-meshed, which he donned, and he baldrick’d himself with a scymitar of Hindi steel, hadst thou smitten therewith a cliff it had cleft it in twain or hadst thou stricken a hill it had been laid level as a plain; and he hent
The History of Durrat al-Ghawwas.
Whilome there was a Sovran amongst the Kings of the Sea, hight Sabur, who reigned over the Crystalline Isles,[FN#397] and he was a mighty ruler and a generous, and a masterful potentate and a glorious. He loved women and he was at trouble to seek out the fairest damsels; yet many of his years had gone by nor yet had he been blessed with boon of boy. So one day of the days he took thought and said in himself, “To this length of years I have attained and am well nigh at life’s end and still am I childless: what then will be my case?”
“Thou hast doomed me, O branchlet of Ban, 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
“My heart is straitened with grief amain * And
my friends and
familiars have wrought
me pain;
And whene’er you’re absent I pine, and
fires * In my heart beweep
what it bears of bane:
O ye, who fare for the tribe’s domain, * Cry
aloud my greetings to
friends so fain!”
Now when the Emir Salamah heard these his son’s verses, he bade pack for him four camel loads of the rarest stuffs, and he largessed to him a she-dromedary laden with thrones of red gold; then he said to him, “Lo, O my son, I have given thee more than thou askedst.” “O my father,” replied Habib, “where are my steed and my sword and my spear?” Hereat the pages brought forward a mail-coat Davidian[FN#404] and a blade Maghrabian and a lance Khattian and Samharian, and set them between his hands; and the Sultan Habib donning the habergeon and drawing his sabre and sitting lance in rest backed his steed, which was of the noblest blood known to all the Arabs. Then quoth he, “O my father, is it thy desire to send with me a troop of twenty knights that they may escort me to the land of Al-Yaman and may anon bring me back to thee?” “My design,” quoth the sire, “is to despatch those with thee who shall befriend thee upon the road;” and, when Habib prayed him do as he pleased, the Emir appointed to him ten knights, valorous wights, who dreaded naught of death however sudden and awesome. Presently, the youth farewelled his father and mother, his family and his tribe, and joining his escort, mounted his destrier when Salamah, his sire, said to his company, “Be ye to my son obedient in all he shall command you;” and said they, “Hearing and obeying.” Then Habib and his many turned away from home and addressed them to the road when he began to improvise the following lines,
My longing grows less and far goes my cark * After
flamed my heart
with the love-fire stark;
As I ride to search for my soul’s desire * And
I ask of those
faring to Al-Irak.”
On this wise it befel the Sultan Habib and his farewelling his father and mother; but now lend ear to what came of the knights who escorted him. After many days of toil and travail they waxed discontented and disheartened; and presently taking counsel one with other, they said, “Come, let us slay this lad and carry off the loads of stuffs and coin he hath with him; and when we reach our homes and be questioned concerning him, let us say that he died of the excess of his desire to Princess Durrat al-Ghawwas.” So they followed this rede, while their lord wotted naught of the ambush laid for him by his followers. And having ridden through the day when the night of offence[FN#405] was dispread, the escort said, “Dismount we in this garden[FN#406] that here we may take our rest during the dark hours, and when morning shall morrow we will resume our road.” The Sultan Habib had no mind to oppose them, so all alighted and in that garden took seat and whatso of victual was with them produced; after which they ate
“Faileth me, O my God, the patience with the
pride o’ me; * Life-
tie is broke and drawing
nigh I see Death-tide o’ me:
To whom shall injured man complain of injury and wrong
* Save to
the Lord (of Lords the
Best!) who stands by side o’me.”
Now whilst the Sultan Habib was ranging with his eye-corners to the right and to the left, behold, he beheld a blackness rising high in air, and quoth he to himself, “Doubtless this dark object must be a mighty city or a vast encampment, and I will hie me thither before I be overheated by the sun-glow and I lose the power of walking and I die of distress and none shall know my fate.” Then he heartened his heart for the improvising of such poetry as came to his mind, and he repeated these verses,
“Travel, for on the way all goodly things shalt
find; * And wake
from sleep and dreams
if still to sleep inclined!
Or victory win and rise and raise thee highmost high
* And gain, O
giddy pate, the food
for which thy soul hath pined;
Or into sorrow thou shalt fall with breast full strait
* And ne’er
enjoy the Fame that
wooes the gen’rous mind,
Nor is there any shall avail to hinder Fate * Except
the Lord of
Worlds who the Two Beings[FN#416]
designed.”
And when he had finished his verse, the Sultan Habib walked in the direction of that blackness nor left walking until he drew near the ridge; but after he could fare no farther and that walking distressed him (he never having been broken to travel afoot and barefoot withal), and his forces waxed feeble and his joints relaxed and his strong will grew weak and his resolution passed away. But whilst he was perplexed concerning what he should do, suddenly there alighted between his hands a snow-white fowl huge as the dome of a Hammam, 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 Kaf 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
“At him I wonder who from woe is free, * And
who no joy
displays[FN#419] when
safe is he:
And I admire how Time deludes man when * He views
the past; but ah,
Time’s tyranny.”
So the Sultan Habib read over these verses more than once, and wept till he swooned away; then recovering himself he said in his mind, “To me death were pleasanter than life without my love!” and turning to the closets which lay right and left he opened them all and gazed upon the hillocks of gold and silver and upon the heaps and bales of rubies and unions and precious stones and strings of pearls, wondering at all he espied, and quoth he to himself “Were but a single magazine of these treasures revealed,
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 role is that of the naive ingenue, famous for “smartness” and “vivacty”: “one cannot refrain from smiling at the lively sallies of her good nature and simplicity of heart.” I find this young person the model of a pert, pretty, prattling little French soubrette who, moreover, makes open love to “the master.” Habib calls the “good old lady,” his governess “Esek! Esek!” which in Turk. means donkey, ass. I need hardly enlarge upon these ineptitudes; those who wish to pursue the subject have only to compare the two versions.
At the end of the Frenchified tale we find a note entitled:—Observations by the French Editor, on the “History of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian Knight,” and these are founded not upon the Oriental text but upon the Occidental perversion. It is described “from a moral plane rather as a poem than a simple tale,” and it must be regarded as “a Romance of Chivalry which unites the two chief characteristics of works of that sort,—amusement and instruction.” Habib’s education is compared with that of Telemachus, and his being inured to fatigue is according to the
Appendix.
Notes on the stories contained in volume XVI.
By W. F. Kirby.
The Say of Haykar the Sage (Pp.1-30).
Haykar’s precepts may be compared advantageously with those of other nations of the East and West (at a corresponding stage of civilisation) which, as a rule, follow very similar lines. Many of them find their parallels not only in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, as we might reasonably expect, but even in the Havamal of the Elder Edda, respecting which Thorpe remarks in his translation (i. p. 36 note): “Odin is the ‘High One.’ The poem is a collection of rules and maxims, and stories of himself, some of them not very consistent with our ideas of a supreme deity.” The style of the Icelandic poem, and the manners of the period when it was composed, are of course as wide apart from those of Haykar as is Iceland from Syria, but human nature remains the same.
Pp. 22-24.—Two classes of subterfuges similar to those employed by Haykar are common in folk-tales. In one, the hero vanquishes, and generally destroys, his adversary (usually a giant) by imposing on his credulity, like Jack when he hid himself in a corner of the room, and left a faggot in his bed for the giant to belabour, and afterwards killed the giant by pretending to rip himself up, and defying the other to do the same. In other cases, the hero foils his opponents by subterfuges which are admitted to be just, but which are not intended actually to deceive, as in the devices by which the blind Shaykh instructs the merchant to baffle the sharpers, in one of the Sindibad stories (vol. vi., pp. 202-212, No. 135x., of our Table). In the present story Pharaoh was baffled by the superior cunning of Haykar but it is not made quite clear whether he actually believed in his power to build a castle in the air or not. However the story probably belongs to the second class.
P. 25.—Twisting ropes out of sand was a device by which Michael Scot baffled a devil for whom he had to find constant employment. (Cf. Scott’s “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” and notes.)
The History of Al-Bundukani (Pp. 31-68).
I believe the “Robber-Caliph” is sometimes played as a burlesque, for which it is well adapted. The parallel suggested between the Caliph and a robber may remind the reader of the interview between Alexander the Great and the Robber, in “Evenings at Home.” One cannot help sympathising with the disappointed young Merchant who acted as an informer, and feeling glad that he got off with a whole skin.
P. 34.—In some versions of this story Harun’s abstention from his bride for a year is attributed to a previous vow.
P. 46 and note 4.—This passage, relative to the character of the Caliph, may be compared with his forgetfulness respecting Nur Al-Din Ali and Anis Al-Jalis. (Vol. ii. p, 42, and note.)
The Linguist-dame, the Duenna,
and the King’s Son (Pp.
69-87).
This story, though much shorter, is very closely paralleled by that of Prince Calaf and the Princess of China, in the Thousand and One Days (cf. vol. x., App, pp. 499, 500) Prince Calaf (the son of the King of the Nogais Tartars) and his parents are driven from their kingdom by the Sultan of Carizme (Khwarizm), 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. Turandokht or Turan’s daughter). When Turandot is on the point of defeat, she sends her confidante, a captive princess, to Calaf, to worm out his secret (his own name). The confidante, who is herself in love with Calaf, horrifies him with the invention that Turandot intends to have him secretly assassinated; but although he drops his name in his consternation, he refuses to fly with his visitor. In the morning Turandot declares Calaf’s name to him but comforts him by saying that she has nevertheless determined to accept him as her husband, instead of cutting off his head; and the slave princess commits suicide. Messengers are then sent for Calaf’s parents, who arrive in company with the friendly Khan who had granted them an asylum; and Calaf marches against the Sultan of Carizme, who is defeated and slain, when his subjects readily submit to the conqueror.
P. 77.—According to Jewish tradition, the Rod of Moses became transformed into so terrible a dragon that the Egyptians took to flight, and 60,000 of them were slain in the press.—(Sale’s Koran, chap. 7, note.)
P. 77, note 4.—It was long denied that ants store up grain, because our English ants do not; but it is now well known that many foreign species, some of which inhabit countries bordering on the Mediterranean (including Palestine), store up large quantities of grass seeds in their nests; and one ant found in North America is said to actually cultivate a particular kind of grass.
P. 81, note 6.—Those interested in the question of the succession of the Patriarchs may refer to Joseph Jacobs’ article on “Junior-right in Genesis,"[FN#430] in which the writer argues that it was the original custom among the Hebrews, as among other nations, for the youngest son to succeed to his father’s estates, after the elder ones had already established themselves elsewhere. Much may be urged in favour of this writer’s conclusions, and it will be remembered that our own Monarchy was not recognised as hereditary until the time of the Conquest, the most able or the strongest relative of the late King usually succeeding to the Crown, and minors being always set aside, unless powerful politicians intended to use them as mere tools. In the Esthonian Kalevipoeg the system comes out still more strongly. Three sons are living at home at the time of the death of Kalev, but the youngest is designated by him as his successor, and is afterwards indicated by lot as the peculiar favourite of the gods.
P. 84, note 4.—Although it has nothing to do with the present story, yet I may point out the great importance of the bridle in all the folk-tales which deal with the transformation of human beings into domestic animals. It is clearly implied (though not actually expressed) in the story of Julnar the Sea Born (No. 153) that the power of Abdallah and Badr Basim over Queen Lab, while she bore the form of a mule, depended entirely on their keeping possession of the bridle (cf. Nights, vol. vii., p. 304, and note). There are many stories of magicians who transform themselves into horses, &c., for their friends to sell; but the bridle must on no account be given with the horse. Should this be neglected (purposely or otherwise) the magician is unable to reassume his human form at will. Cf. also Spitta-Bey’s story No. 1 (infra).
The Tale of the Warlock
and the Young Cook of Baghdad
(Pp.
95-112).
This story appears in Chavis and Cazotte’s version, and in the various translations made from the French, in a very highly elaborated form, under the title of “The Adventures of Simoustapha, and the Princess Ilsetilsone.” The Caliph and his Wazir are identified with Harun Al-Rashid and Ja’afar, but they suffer no transformations at the hands of the Magician after whose death Prince Simoustapha is protected by Setelpedour Ginatille, whose name is interpreted as meaning the Star of the Seven Seas, though the first name appears rather to be a corruption of Sitt El Bubur. She is the queen of Ginnistan, and the daughter of Kokopilesobe (Satan), whose contests with Mahomet and Michael (the former of whom continues the conflict by “becoming man”) are described on the approved Miltonic lines. Her chief councillors are Bahlisboull (Beelzebub) and Asmonchar (Asmodeus), but ultimately she falls in love with Simoustapha, and adjures her sovereignty, after which he carries her off, and marries her, upon which the mother of Ilsetilsone, “the sensible Zobeide, formed now a much truer and more favourable judgment of her daughter’s happiness, since she had shared the heart of Simoustapha with Setelpedour, and at last agreed that the union of one man with two women might be productive of great happiness to all the three, provided that one of the wives happened to be a fairy.” (Weber, ii. p. 50.) A most encouraging sentiment for would-be polygamists, truly, especially in Europe, where fairies appear to fly before the advance of civilisation as surely as the wild beasts of the forest!
P. 99.—These apparitions resemble those which usually precede the visions which appear in the well-known pool of ink. But the sweeper is not mentioned in the present story, nor do I remember reading of his appearing in cases of crystal seeing, though Dante Gabriel Rossetti introduces him into his fine poem, “Rose Mary,” as preparing the way for the visions seen in the beryl:
“’I
see a man with a besom grey
That
sweeps the flying dust away.’
’Ay,
that comes first in the mystic sphere;
But
now that the way is swept and clear
Heed
well what next you look on there.’”
P. 104, note 1.—Apropos of the importance of “three days,” I may refer to the “three days and three nights” which Christ is commonly said to have passed in the tomb, and I believe that some mystics assert that three days is the usual period required by a man to recover consciousness after death.
Pp. 106, 107.—These worked lions recall the exhibition of power made by Abu Mohammed hight Lazybones (No. 37; Nights, iv., p. 165). Their Oriental prototypes are probably the lions and eagles with which the Jinn ornamented the throne of Solomon. In the West, we meet with Southey’s amusing legend of the Pious Painter:
“‘Help,
help, Blessed Mary,’ he cried in alarm,
As
the scaffold sunk under his feet;
From
the canvass the Virgin extended her arm;
She
caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;
There
were hundreds who saw in the street.”
The enchanted palaces of the Firm Island, with their prodigies of the Hart and the Dogs, &c., may also be mentioned (Amadis of Gaul, book ii., chap. 21, &c.).
Pp. 107, 108.—Stories of changed sex are not uncommon in Eastern and classical mythology and folk-lore; usually, as in this instance, the change of a man into a woman, although it is the converse (apparent, of course) which we meet with occasionally in modern medical books.
In the Nights, &c., we have the story of the Enchanted Spring (No. 135j) in the great Sindibad cyclus (Nights, vi., pp. 145-150), and Lane (Modern Egyptians, chap. xxv.) relates a story which he heard in Cairo more resembling that of the transformed Wazir. In classical legend we have the stories of Tiresias, Caeneus, and Iphis. Turning to India, we meet with the prototype of Caeneus 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 Pachisi; and no doubt many others might be quoted.
History of What Befel the Fowl-let
with the Fowler (Pp.
119-128).
One of the most curious stories relative to the escape of a captured prey is to be found in the 5th Canto of the Finnish Kalevala. Vainaimoinen, the old minstrel, is fishing in the lake where his love, Aino, has drowned herself, because she would not marry an old man. He hooks a salmon of very peculiar appearance, and while he is speculating about cutting it up and cooking it, it leaps from the boat into the water, and then reproaches him with his folly, telling him that it is Aino (now transformed into a water-nymph) who threw herself in his way to be his life-companion, but that owing to his folly in proposing to eat her, he has now lost her for ever. Hereupon she disappears, and all his efforts to rediscover her are fruitless.
The Tale of Attaf (Pp. 129-170).
P. 138, note 6.—I may add that an episode is inserted in the Europeanised version of this story, relative to the loves of the son of Chebib and the Princess of Herak, which is evidently copied from the first nocturnal meeting of Kamaralzaman and Budur (No. 21, Nights, iii., pp. 223-242), and is drawn on exactly similar lines (Weber, i. pp. 508-510).
History of Prince Habib, and
What Befel Him with the
Lady Durrat Al-Ghawwas (Pp. 171-201).
P. 197, note 1.—Epithets of colour, as applied to seas, frequently have a purely mythological application in Eastern tales. Thus, in the story of Zaher and Ali (cf. my “New Arabian Nights,” p. 13) we read, “You are now upon an island of the Black Sea, which encompasses all other seas, and flows within Mount Kaf. According to the reports of travellers, it is a ten years’ voyage before you arrive at the Blue Sea, and it takes full ten years to traverse this again to reach the Green Sea, after which there is another ten years’ voyage before you can reach the Greek Sea, which extends to inhabited countries and islands.”
Kenealy says (in a note to his poem on “Night”) that the Atlantic Ocean is called the Sea of Darkness, on account of the great irruption of water which occasioned its formation; but this is one of his positive statements relative to facts not generally known to the world, for which he considered it unnecessary to quote his authority.
P. 200.—According to one account of impalement which I have seen, the stake is driven through the flesh of the back beneath the skin.
Reading the account of the Crucifixion between the lines, I have come to the conclusion that the sudden death of Christ was due to his drinking from the sponge which had just been offered to him. The liquid, however, is said to have been vinegar, and not water; but this might have had the same effect, or water may have been substituted, perhaps with the connivance of Pilate. In the latter case vinegar may only have been mentioned as a blind, to deceive the fanatical Jews. The fragmentary accounts of the Crucifixion which have come down to us admit of many possible interpretations of details.
Index to the Tales, and Proper Names, Together with Alphabetical Table of Notes in Volumes XI. To XVI.
Also
Additional Notes on the Bibliography
of the Thousand
and One Nights.
Index to the Tales and Proper Names in the Supplemental Nights.
N.B.—The Roman numerals denote the volume,
the Arabic the page.
{The Arabic numerals have been discarded}
Abbaside, Ja’afar bin Yahya and Abd Al-Malik
bin Salih the, i.
Abd Al-Malik bin Salih the Abbaside, Ja’afar
bin Yahya and, i.
Abdullah bin Nafi’, Tale of Harun Al-Rashid
and, ii.
Abu Niyattayn, History of Abu Niyyah and, iv.
Abu Niyyah and Abu Niyyatayn, History of, iv.
Variants and Analogues of Some
of the Tales in the
Supplemental Nights.
By W. A. Clouston.
Aladdin; or the Wonderful Lamp, iii.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii.
Ali Khwajah and the Merchant of Baghdad, iii.
Al Malik Al-Zahir and the Sixteen Captains of Police,
ii.
Blind Man, Baba Abdullah, The Story of the, iii.
Damsel Tuhfat al-Kulub, The, ii.
Devout woman accused of Lewdness, The, ii.
Fifteenth Constable’s Story, The, ii.
Firuz and his Wife, ii.
Fuller, his Wife and the Trooper, The, ii.
Khudadad and his Brothers, iii.
Khwajah Hasan al-Habbal, History of, iii.
King Aylan Shah and Abu Tammam, ii.
King Dadbin and his Wazirs, ii.
King Ins bin Kays and his Daughter, ii.
King Shah Bakht and his Wazir Al-Rahwan, ii.
King Sulayman Shah and his Niece, ii.
King who kenned the Quintessence of things, The, ii.
King who lost Kingdom, Wife and Wealth, The, ii.
Melancholist and the Sharper, The, ii.
Ninth Constable’s Story, The, ii.
Nur al-Din and the Damsel Sitt al-Milah, ii.
On the Art of Enlarging Pearls, ii.
Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu, iii.
Prince who fell in love with the Picture, The, ii.
Sidi Nu’man, History of, iii.
Simpleton Husband, The, ii.
Singer and the Druggist; The, ii.
Sleeper and the Waker, ii.
Ten Wazirs, or the History of King Azadbakht and his
son, ii.
Thief’s Tale, The, ii.
Three men and our Lord Isa, The, ii.
Two Sisters who envied their Cadette, The, iii.
Weaver who became a leach by order of his wife, The,
ii.
Women’s Wiles, ii.
Zayn al-Asnarn, The tale of, iii.
Additional Notes.
By W. A. Clouston.
Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp, iii.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, iii.
Firuz and his Wife, ii.
Fuller, his wife and the Trooper, The, ii.
Prince Ahmad, The Tale of, iii.
Singer and the Druggist, The, ii.
Zayn al-Asnam, The Tale of, iii.
By W. F. Kirby.
Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. iv.; v.
Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. v.; v.
Additional Notes to some of Tales in vol. vi.; vi.
Additional Bibliographical Notes to the Tales in
the Supplemental
Nights, vi.
Additional Notes
on the Bibliography of the Thousand
and One Nights.
(Cf. Nights, X., App. Ii., P. 414.)
By W. F. Kirby.
Herewith I add notes on any works of importance which I had not seen when my “Contributions” were published, or which have appeared since.
Zotenberg’s Work
on Aladdin and on Various Manuscripts
of
the Nights.
One of the most important works which has appeared lately in connection with the Thousand and One Nights, is the following:
Histoire d’ ’Ala Al-Din ou la Lampe Merveilleuse. Texte Arabe publie avec une notice sur quelques manuscrits des Mille et une Nuits par H. Zotenberg, roy. 8vo. Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, 1888
The publication of this work puts an end to the numerous conjectures of scholars as to the source of Galland’s unidentified tales; and the notes on various MSS. of the Nights are also very valuable. It therefore appears desirable to give a tolerably full sketch of the contents of the book.[FN#431]
M. Zotenberg begins with general remarks, and passes on to discuss Galland’s edition. [Section I.]—Although Galland frequently speaks of Oriental tales[FN#432], in his journal, kept at Constantinople in 1672 and 1673, yet as he informs us, in his Dedication to the Marquise d’O., he only succeeded in obtaining from Syria a portion of the Ms. of the Nights themselves with considerable difficulty after his return to France.
There is some doubt as to the date of appearance of the first 6 vols. of Galland’s “Mille et une Nuit.” According to Caussin de Perceval, vols. 1 and 2 were published together in 1704, and vols. 3 and 4 in the course of the same year. Nevertheless, in the copy in the Bibliotheque Nationale, vols. 1 and 4 are dated 1704, and vols. 2, 5 and 6 are dated 1705; vol. 3 is missing, just as we have only odd volumes of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th English editions in the British Museum, the 1st being still quite unknown.
M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of Galland’s Ms. (cf. Nights, x. App., p. 414), and illustrates it by a specimen page in facsimile. Judging from the character of the writing, &c., he considers it to have been transcribed about the second half of the 14th century (Sir R. F. Burton suggests about A.D. 1384). It is curious that there is a Ms. of the 15th century in the Library of the Vatican, which appears to be almost a counterpart of Galland’s, and likewise contains only the first 282 Nights. Galland’s Ms. wants a leaf extending from part of Night 102 to the beginning of Night 104, and containing an account of the Hunchback and his buffooneries; this hiatus is filled up in the Vatican Ms.
Habicht’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 Habicht’s Ms., though obtained at Tunis, came originally from Egypt. He considers the ordinary Egyptian texts to be generally abridged and condensed.
Although it is clear that Galland made great use of this Ms. for his translation, yet M. Zotenberg points out numerous discrepancies, especially those at the commencement of the work, which led Caussin de Perceval to regard Galland’s work as a mere paraphrase of the original. M. Zotenberg, however (p. 14), writes, “Evidemment, Galland, pour la traduction du commencement du recit, a suivi un texte plus developpe que celui du Ms. 1508, texte dont la redaction egyptienne ne presente qu’un maladroit abrege.” 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 MSS. of the Nights existed m the libraries of Paris, one in Arabic, and the other in Turkish. The Arabic Ms. contains 870 Nights, and is arbitrarily divided into 29 sections. M. Zotenberg considers that it was to this Ms. that Galland referred, when he said that the complete work was in 36 parts The tales follow the order of our Table as far as No. 7 (Nos. 2ab, 2ac and 3ba are wanting), the remainder are irregular, and run as follows: 153, 154, 154a, 20; story of Khailedjan ibn Haman, the Persian; Story of the Two Old Men, and of Baz al-Aschbab 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 (etang) and underwent metamorphoses:[FN#433] anecdotes and apothegms; a portion of the Kalila and Dimna ?
The Turkish Ms. (in 11 vols.) is made up of several imperfect copies, which have been improperly put together. The bulk is formed by vols. 2-10 which are written in three different hands, and some of which bear date 1046 A.H. The contents of these nine vols. are as follows: Introduction and 1-3 (wanting 2ab), Story of ’Abdallah of Basra, 5; Story of ’Attaf ibn Isma’il al-Schoqlani of Damascus and the schaikh Abou-’l-Baraka al-Nawwam, 6; Story told by the Christian Merchant (relating to Qamar al-Zaman during the reign of Sultan Mahmoud, and different from the story known under this title); Story of Ahmad al- Saghir (the tattle) and Schams al-Qosour; Story of the Young Man of Baghdad and the Bathman (Baigneur, attendant in a Hammam), 7; 153; 21; Story of Khaledjan ibn Mahani; Story of Nour al-Din ’All and of Dounya (or Dinar) of Damascus, 133, Story of Prince Qamar-Khan and of the schaikh ’Ate, of the Sultan Mahmoud-Khan, of Bahram-Schah, of ’Abdallah ibn Hilal, of Harout and Marout, &c.; Story of Qowwat al-Qoloub; 9, including as episodes 9a; 8; Story of Moubaref who slept in the bath; ( ? = 96); and 170; Fables.
The other volumes (1 and 11 of the Ms.) both contain the beginning of the Ms. Vol. I was written towards the end of the 17th century, and extends about as far as Night 55, concluding with No. 7, which follows No. 3. Vol. 11., which once belonged to Galland, includes only a portion of the Introduction. The text of these two fragments is similar, but differs considerably from that of vol. 2 of the Ms.; and specimens of the commencement of vols. 1 and 2 are given to show this. Yet it is singular that Galland does not seem to have used these Turkish volumes; and the second Ms. which he actually used, like the 4th vol. of the copy preserved in the Bibliotheque Nationale, appears to be missing.
M. Zotenberg then remarks on the missing vol. 4 of Galland, and quotes extracts from Galland’s Diary, strewing that Nos. 191, 192 and 192a, which were surreptitiously introduced into his work without his knowledge, and greatly to his annoyance, were translated by Petis de la Croix, and were probably intended to be included in the Thousand and One Days, which was published in 1710.
[Section iii.]—This is one of the most important in the book, in which extracts from Galland’s Diary of 1709 are quoted, shewing that he was then in constant communication with a Christian Maronite of Aleppo, named Hanna (Jean), who was brought to Paris by the traveller Paul Lucas, and who related stories to Galland, of which the latter took copious notes, and most of which he worked up into the later volumes of his “Mille et une Nuit” (sic). Among these were 193, 194a, 194b, 59, 197, 198, 174, 195, 194c, 196. The following tales he did not use: An Arab story of two cousins, Camar eddin and Bedr el Bodour; the Golden City (another version of the story of the Three Princes, in No. 198, combined with the story of the woman who slew pretenders who were unable to solve a riddle); The Three Princes, the Genius Morhagian, and his Daughters; and the story of the seller of ptisanne (or diet-drinks) and his son Hassan.
Further extracts from Galland’s Diary are added, extending from the time of Hanna’s departure from Paris between June and October, 1709, and the completion of the 12th volume of the Mille et une Nuit in 1712. These relate to the gradual progress of the work; and to business in connection with it; and Hanna’s name is occasionally mentioned.
Hanna supplied Galland with a written version of No. 193, and probably of 194 a-c; (i.e. most of the tales in vol. 9 and 10); but the tales in vols. 11 and 12 were apparently edited by Galland from his notes and recollections of Hanna’s narrations. These are Nos. 195, 196, 59, 197 and 198. M. Zotenberg concludes that Hanna possessed a Ms. containing all these tales, part of which he copied for Galland, and that this copy, like several other important volumes which Galland is known or believed to have possessed, was lost. M. Zotenberg thinks that we may expect to meet with most of Hanna’s tales either in other copies of the Nights, or in some other collection of the same kind. The latter supposition appears to me to be by far the most probable.
[Section iv.]—M. Zotenberg proceeds to give an account of one or two very important MSS. of the Nights in the Bibliotheque 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 “Kabikaj” thrice repeated. This, he explains, “est le nom du genie prepose au regne des insectes. Les scribes, parfois, l’invoquent pour preserver leurs manuscrits de l’atteinte de vers.”
This Ms. was copied in Parts on European paper at the beginning of the century, though Caussin de Perceval was not acquainted with it in 1806, but only with a Ms. of the Egyptian redaction. This Ms. agrees with Galland’s only as far as the 69th Night. It differs from it in two other points; it contains No. 1c, and the end of No. 3 coincides with the end of Night 69. The contents of Nights 70-1001 are as follows: 246, 4, 5, 6, 20, 7, 153, 21, 170, 247, The Unhappy Lover confined in the Madhouse (probably = 204c), 8, 191, 193,174, 9, 9b (not 9a, or 9aa) and as episodes, 155, 32, and the story of the two brothers ’Amir 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. 1. MSS. proceeding from Muslim parts of Asia. These, except the MSS. of Michael Sabbagh and that of Chavis, contain only the first part of the work. They are all more or less incomplete, and stop short in the middle of the text. They are not quite uniform, especially in their readings, but generally contain the same tales arranged in the same order. Ii. Recent MSS. of Egyptian origin, characterised by a special style, and a more condensed narrative; by the nature and arrangement of the tales, by a great number of anecdotes and fables; and by the early part of the work containing the great romance of chivalry of King Omar Bin Al-Nu’uman. III. MSS. mostly of Egyptian origin, differing as much among themselves in the arrangement of the tales as do those of the other groups.
The following MSS. are mentioned as belonging to the first group:—
I. Galland’s Ms. in the Bibliotheque
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 Bibliotheque
Nationale (Suppl. Arabe, Nos.
1717,1718,
1719).
V. Incomplete Ms. of Vol. Ii. in
Bibl. Nat. (Suppl. Arabe, Nos 2198 to
2200).
VI. Incomplete Ms. of Vol. 4 (Suppl.
Arabe, Nos. 2519 to 2521).
VII. Odd vol. containing Nights 656 to 1001
(Suppl. Arabe, No. 1721, III.).
XII. Ms. containing Nights 284 to 327
(Suppl. Arabe, No. 1720).
XIII. Ms. in British Museum (Oriental
MSS., Nos. 1593 to 1598).
XIV. Ditto (Oriental MSS., Nos. 2916 to
2919).
XV. Burckhardt’s Ms. in the University
Library at Cambridge (B. MSS. 106 to
109).
XVI. Ms. in the Vatican (Nos. 778 to
781).
XVII. Ms. in the Ducal Library at Gotha.
XVIII. Odd vol. in ditto.
XIX. Ms. in the Royal Library at Munich.
XX. Ditto, incomplete (De Sacy’s).
XXI. Fragment in the Library of the Royal
and Imperial Library at Vienna (No.
CL.).
XXII. Ms. in the Imperial Public Library
at St. Petersburg (Von
Hammer’s).
XXIII.Ms. in the Library of the Institute for
the Study of Oriental languages
at
St. Petersburg (Italinski’s).
XXIV. Mr. Clarke’s Ms. (cf. Nights,
x., App. pp. 444- 448).
XXV. Caussin de Perceval’s Ms.
XXVI. Sir W. Ouseley’s MSS.
The above list does not include copies or fragments in various libraries of which M. Zotenberg has no sufficient information, nor miscellaneous collection in which tales from the Nights are mixed with others.
Portions of Habicht’s Ms. appear to belong to the Egyptian recension, and others to have come from further East.
There is a Ms. in the Bibliotheque 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. francais, No. 15277, pp. 120-131. The passages in brackets are added by the present translator (chiefly where Galland has inserted “etc.”) to fill up the sense.]
When the Sultan of Samarcand had reached a great age, he called the three princes, his sons, and after observing that he was much pleased to see how much they loved and revered him, he gave them leave to ask for whatever they most desired. They had only to speak, and he was ready to grant them whatever they asked, let it be what it might, on the sole condition that he should satisfy the eldest first, and the two younger ones afterwards, each in his turn. The eldest prince, whose name was Rostam, begged the Sultan to build him a cabinet of bricks of gold and silver alternately, and roofed with all kinds of precious stones.
The Sultan issued his orders that very day, but before the roof of the cabinet was finished, indeed before any furniture had been put into it, Prince Rostam asked his father’s leave to sleep there. The Sultan tried to dissuade him, saying that [the roof] ought to be finished first, but the prince was so impatient that he ordered his bed to be removed there, and he lay down. He was reading the Koran
The second prince, whose name was Gaiath Eddin (Ghayath al-Din), then requested the Sultan to build him a cabinet constructed entirely of the bones of fishes. The Sultan ordered it to be built, at great expense. Prince Gaiath Eddin had no more patience to wait till it was quite finished than his brother Rostam. He lay down in the cabinet notwithstanding the Sultan’s warnings, but took care to keep his sword by his side The genius Morhagian appeared to him also at midnight, paid him the same compliment, and told him that the cabinet was built over the palace of his second daughter. He reduced it to dust, and Prince Gaiath Eddin pursued him, sword in hand, to the well, where he escaped; and next day the prince appeared before his father, the Sultan [as crestfallen as his brother].
The third prince, who was named Badialzaman (Badiu’l-Zaman = Rarity of the Age) obtained leave from the Sultan to build a cabinet entirely of rock crystal. He went to sleep there before it was entirely finished, but without saying anything to the Sultan, as he was resolved to see whether Morhagian would treat him in the same way. Morhagian arrived at midnight, and declared that the cabinet was built over the palace of his third daughter. He destroyed the cabinet’ and when the prince seized his sword, Morhagian took to flight. The prince wounded him three times before he reached the well, but he nevertheless succeeded in escaping.
Prince Badialzaman did not present himself to the Sultan, but went to the two princes, his brothers, and urged them to pursue the genius in the well itself. The three went together, and the eldest was let down into the well by a rope, but after descending a certain distance, he cried out, and asked to be drawn up a rain. He excused his failure by saying that he felt a burning heat [and was almost suffocated]. The same thing happened to Prince Gaiath Eddin, who likewise cried out till he was drawn up. Prince Badialzaman then had himself let down but commanded his brothers not to draw him up again, even if he should cry out. They let him down, and he cried
Two of her attendants then took Fattane under the armpits, and led her to her apartment, followed by the others. She took her seat on a small raised sofa, and her women separated, some to the right and some to the left, and set about their work. Prince Badialzaman had dropped his handkerchief. One of the waiting women saw it and picked it up, and when she looked round, she saw the prince. She was alarmed, and warned Fattane, who sent some of her women to see who the stranger was. The prince came forward, and presented himself before Fattane, who beheld a young prince, and gave him a most gracious reception. She made him sit next to her, and inquired what brought him there? He told his story from the beginning to the end, and asked where he could find the genius, on whom he wished to take vengeance. Fattane smiled, and told him to think no more about it, but only to enjoy himself in the good company in which he found himself. They spread the table, and she made him sit next to her, and her women played on all kinds of musical instruments before they retired to rest.
Fattane persuaded the prince to stay with her from day to day: but on the fortieth day he declared that he could wait no longer, and that it was absolutely necessary for him to find out where Morhagian dwelt. The princess acknowledged that he was her father, and told him that his strength was so great [that nobody could overcome him]. She added that she could not inform him where to find him, but that her second sister would tell him. She sent one of her women to guide him to her sister’s palace through a door of communication, and to introduce him. He was well received by the fairy, for whom he had a letter, and he found her younger and more beautiful than Fattane. He begged her to inform him where he could find the genius, but she changed the subject of conversation, entertained him magnificently, and kept him with her for forty days. On the fortieth day she permitted him to depart, gave him a letter, and sent him to her youngest sister, who was a still more beautiful fairy. He was received and welcomed with joy. She promised to show him Morhagian’s dwelling, and she also entertained him for forty days. On the fortieth day she tried to dissuade him from his enterprise, but he insisted. She told him that Morhagian would grasp his head in one hand, and his feet in the other, and would tear him asunder in the middle. But this did not move him, and she then told him that he would find Morhagian in a dwelling, long, high and wide in proportion to his bulk. The prince sought him out, and the moment he caught sight of him, he rushed at him, sword in hand. Morhagian stretched out his hand, seized his head in one hand and his feet in the other, rent him in two with very little effort, and threw him out of a window which overlooked a garden.
Two women sent by the youngest princess each took a piece of the body of the prince, and brought it to their mistress, who put them together, reunited them, and restored life to the prince by applying water [of life ?] to the wounds. She then asked the prince where he came from, and it seemed to him that he had just awakened from sleep; and she then recalled everything to his recollection. But this did not weaken his firm resolve to kill the genius. The fairy begged him to eat, but he refused; and she then urged that Morhagian was her father, and that he could only be killed by his own sword, which the prince could not obtain.[FN#434] “You may say what you please,” answered the prince; “but there is no help for it, and he must die by my hand [to atone for the wrongs which my brothers and I have suffered from him].”
Then the princess made him swear solemnly to take her as his bride, and taught him how he might succeed in killing the genius. “You cannot hope to kill him while he wakes,” said she, “but when he sleeps it is not quite impossible. If he sleeps, you will hear him snore, but he will sleep with his eyes open, which is a sign that he has fallen into a very profound slumber. As he fills the whole room, step upon him and seize his sword which hangs above his head, and then strike him on the neck. The blow will not kill him, but as he wakes, he will tell you to strike him a second time. But beware of doing this [for if you strike him again, the wound will heal of itself, and he will spring up and kill you, and me after you].”
Then Badialzaman returned to Morhagian’s room, and found him snoring so loud that everything around him shook. The prince entered, though not without trembling, and walked over him till he was able to seize the sword when he struck him a violent blow on the neck. Morhagian awoke, cursing his daughter, and cried out to the prince, whom he recognised, “Make an end of me.” The prince answered that what he had done was enough, and he left him, and Morhagian died.
The prince carried off Morhagian’s sword, which he thought would be useful to him in other encounters; and as he went, he passed a magnificent stable in which he saw a splendid horse. He returned to the fairy and related to her what he had done, and added that he would like to carry off the horse, but he feared it would be very difficult. “Not so difficult as you think,” said she. “Go and cut off some hair from his tail, and take care of it, and whenever you are in need, burn one or two of the hairs, and he will be with you immediately [and will bring you whatever you require].”
After this the three fairies assembled together, and the prince promised that the two princes, his brothers, should marry the other two sisters. Each fairy reduced her palace to the size of a small ball, which she gave to the prince
The prince then took the three fairies to the bottom of the well. His father, the Sultan, had long believed that he was dead, and had put on mourning for him. His two brothers often came to the well, and they happened to be there just at the time. Badialzaman attracted their attention by his shouts, told them what had happened, and added that he had brought the three fairies with him. He asked for a rope and fastened the eldest fairy to it, calling out, “Pull away, Prince Rostam, I send you your good fortune.” The rope was let down again, and he fastened the second fairy to it, calling out “Brother Gaiath Eddin, pull up your good fortune too.”
The third fairy, who was to marry Badialzaman, begged him to allow himself to be drawn up before her [as she was distrustful of his brothers], but he would not listen to her. As soon as the two princes had drawn her up so high that they could see her, they began to dispute who should have her. Then the fairy cried out to Badialzaman, “Prince, did I not warn you of this ?”
The princes were obliged to agree that the Sultan should settle their dispute. When the third fairy had been drawn out of the well, the three fairies endeavoured to persuade the two princes to draw up their youngest brother, but they refused, and compelled them to follow them. While they carried off the youngest princess, the other two asked leave to say adieu to Prince Badialzaman They cried out from the top of the well, “Prince have patience till Friday, when you will see six bulls pass by—three red ones and three black ones. Mount upon one of the red ones and he will bring you up to the earth, but take good care not to mount upon a black one, for he would carry you down to the Seventh Earth."[FN#435]
The princes carried off the three fairies, and on Friday, three days afterwards, the six bulls appeared. Badialzaman was about to mount upon a red one, when a black one prevented him, and compelled him to mount his back, when he plunged through the earth till he stopped at a large town in another world. He entered the town, and took up his abode with an old woman, to whom he gave a piece of gold to provide him with something to eat, for he was almost famished. When he had eaten enough, he asked for something to drink. “You cannot be a native of this country,” said the old woman ["or you would not ask for drink"]. She then brought him a sponge, saying that she had no other water. She then informed him that the town was supplied with water from a very copious spring, the flow of which was interrupted by a monster. They were obliged to offer up a girl to be devoured by it on every Friday. To-day the princess, the Sultan’s daughter, was to be given up to him, and while the monster emerged from his lair to devour her, enough water would flow for everyone to supply himself until the following Friday.
Badialzaman then requested the old woman to show him the way to the place where the princess was already exposed; but she was so much afraid that he had much trouble in persuading her to come out of her house to show him what direction to take. He went out of the town, and went on till he saw the princess, who made a sign to him from a distance to approach no nearer; and the nearer he came, the more anxiety she displayed. As soon as he was within hearing, he shouted to her not to be afraid; and he sat down beside her, and fell asleep, after having begged her to wake him as soon as the monster appeared. Presently a tear from the princess fell upon his face, and he woke up, and saw the monster, which he slew with the sword of Morhagian, and the water flowed in abundance The princess thanked her deliverer, and begged him to take her back to the Sultan her father, who would give proofs of his gratitude; but he excused himself. She then marked his shoulder with the blood of the monster without his noticing it. The princess then returned to the town, and was led back to the palace, where she related to the Sultan [all that had happened]. Then the Sultan commanded that all the men in the town should pass before himself and the princess under pain of death. Badialzaman tried to conceal himself in a khan, but he was compelled to come with the others. The princess recognised him, and threw an apple at him to point him out. He was seized, and brought before the Sultan, who demanded what he could do to serve him. The prince hesitated, but at length he requested the Sultan to show him the way to return to the world from whence he came. The Sultan was furious, and would have ordered him to be burned as a heretic [but the princess interceded for his life]. The Sultan then treated him as a madman, and drove him ignominiously from the town,
The prince mounted on the back of the Rokh, the Rokh stamped with his foot, and the earth opened before them wherever he turned. They reached the bottom of the well when the Rokh turned his head, but there was no more meat left, so the prince cut off the calf of his leg and gave it to him. When the Rokh arrived at the top of the well, the prince leaped to the ground, when the Rokh perceived [that he was lame, when he inquired the reason, and the prince explained what had happened]. The Rokh then disgorged the calf of the leg, and returned it to its place, when it grew fast, and the prince was cured immediately.
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 jarid[FN#436] [and practised other martial exercises]. It was a grand festival, and all the shops were closed. The tailor wished to take the prince to see the spectacle, but he put him off with an excuse. However, he went to a retired part of the town, where he struck fire with a gun,[FN#437] and burned a little of the horse hair. The horse appeared, and he told him to bring him a complete outfit all in red, and that he should likewise appear with trappings, jewels, &c., and a reed (jarid) 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
On the wedding day they again assembled to throw the jarid. Prince Badialzaman now presented himself on the white horse, robed in white, and with pearls and jewels to match, and again he attracted general admiration. He pushed himself into the midst of a guard of eight hundred horsemen, and slew Gaiath Eddin. They rushed upon him, and he allowed himself to be carried before the Sultan, who recognised him [and pronounced his decision]. “A brother who has been abandoned to die by his brothers has a right to kill them.”
After this, Prince Badialzaman espoused the youngest princess, and the two others were given in marriage to two princes who were related to the Sultan.
Cazotte’s Continuation,
and the Composite Editions of
the
Arabian Nights (Pp. 418-422).
P. 422.—There is a small Dutch work, the title of which is as follows:
Oostersche Vertellingen, uit de Duizend-en-cen-Nacht: Naar de Hoogduitsche Bewerking van M. Claudius,[FN#438] voor de Nederlandsche Jeugduiitgegeven door J. J. A. Gouverneur. Te Groningen, bij B. Wolters, n.d. 8vo., pp. 281, colt front. (illustrating No. 170).
A composite juvenile edition, including Introduction (very short), and Nos. 251g, 36a 163 (complete form), 6ef, 4, 5, 1, 52, 170, 6ee, 223, 207c, 6, 194c, 206a, 204h, 2a, 174a and Introduction (a).
Derived from at least four different sources.
Translations of the Printed Texts (Pp. 438-439).
Under this heading I have to record Sir Richard and Lady Burton’s own works.
Lady Burton’s Edition of her husband’s Arabian Nights, translated literally from the Arabic, prepared for household reading by Justin Huntly McCarthy, M.P., London, Waterlow and Sons, Roy. 8vo. 6 vols.
In preparing this edition for the press, as much as possible has been retained, both of the translation and notes; and it has not been found necessary to omit altogether more than a very few of the least important tales. The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:—
Vol. I. (1886), Front’s piece (Portrait of Lady Burton), Preface, Translator’s Foreword Introduction 1-9 (pp. xxiii. 476).
Vol. Ii. (1886), Front’s piece (Portrait of Sir Richard F. Burton), 9 (continued), 9a-29 (pp. ii. 526).
Vol. III. (1887), 29 (continued)-133e (pp. viii. 511).
Vol. IV. (1887), 133e (continued)-154a (pp. iv. 514).
Vol. V. (1887), 154a (continued)-163 (pp. iv. 516).
Vol. VI. (1886) [? 1888], 163 (continued)-169 (pp. ii. 486).
Also includes Terminal Essay, Index to Tales and Proper Names, Contributions to Bibliography, as far as it relates to Galland’s Ms. and Translations; Comparative Table of Tales; Opinions of the Press; and Letters from Scholars.
Supplemental Nights to the Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, with notes anthropological and explanatory, by Richard F. Burton. Benares, printed by the Kamashastra Society for private subscribers only. Roy. 8vo.
The contents of the 6 volumes are as follows:
Vol. I. (1886) Translator’s Foreword, 170-181bb.
Vol. Ii. (1886) 182-189. Appendix: Variants and analogues of some of the tales in vols. i. and ii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston.
These two volumes contain the tales peculiar to the Breslau Text, and cover the same ground as Mr. Payne’s 3 vols. of “Tales from the Arabic.”
Vol. III. (1887) Foreword, 191-198. Appendix: Variants and Analogues of the Tales in the Supplemental Nights, vol. iii., by Mr. W. A. Clouston.
This volume, the bulkiest of the whole series, contains such of Galland’s tales as are not to be found in the ordinary texts of the Nights.
Vol. IV. (1887) The Translator’s Foreword, 203-209; App. A. Ineptiae Bodleianae; App. B., The three untranslated tales in Mr. E. J. W. Gibb’s “Forty Vezirs.”
Vol. V. (1888) 210-241a, Translator’s Foreword; App. i. Catalogue of Wortley Montague Manuscript, Contents, App. ii. Notes on the Stories contained in vols. iv. and v. of Supplemental Nights, by Mr. W. F. Kirby.
These two volumes contain tales translated from the Wortley Montague Ms., used by Jonathan Scott, and now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. The following tales, not in our table, are added:—
Vol. IV. Story of the Limping Schoolmaster (between 204i and 204j).
How Drummer Abu Kasim became a Kazi, and Story of the Kazi and his Slipper. (These two tales come between 206a and 206b.)
Adventure of the Fruit-seller and the Concubine (between 207c and 207d).
Tale of the third Larrikin concerning himself (between 208 and 209).
On the other hand, a few tales in the Ms. are omitted as repetitions, or as too unimportant to be worth translating:—
Vol. VI. (1888) Translator’s Foreword: 248; 246; The Linguist-Dame, the Duenna, and the King’s Son; 247; The Pleasant History of the Cock and the Fox; History of what befel the Fowl-let with the Fowler; 249; 250.
App. i. Index to the Tales and Proper Names; ii. Alphabetical Table of the Notes (Anthropological, &c.); iii. Notes on the Stories contained in vol. vi. of Supplementary Nights, by W. F. Kirby; iv. Additional Notes on the Bibliography of the Thousand and One Nights, by W. F. Kirby; v. The Biography of the Book and the Reviewers Reviewed, Opinions of the Press.
This volume contains the originals of Chavis and Cazotte’s Tales, omitting the four doubtful ones (cf. Nights, x. App., pp. 418, 419).
Collections of Selected Tales (P. 439).
“We have also ‘Aladdin or the Wonderful Lamp,’ ’Sindbad the Sailor, or the Old Man of the Sea’ and ‘Ali Baba, or the Forty Thieves,’ revised by M. E. Braddon, author of ‘Lady Audley’s Secret,’ etc. Illustrated by Gustav Dore 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. 448-453). B. English
(Pp.
452-453).
13. History of Rhedi, the Hermit of Mount Ararat, an Oriental Tale. By—Mackenzie, 16mo., Dublin, 1781.
I have not seen this little book.
14. Miscellanies, consisting of classical extracts, and Oriental Epilogues. By William Beloe, F.S.A. Translator of Herodotus, &c. London, 1795.
Includes some genuine Oriental tales, such as a version of that of Basim the Smith.
15. The Orientalist, or Letters of a Rabbi, with Notes by James Noble, Oriental Master in the Scottish Nasal and Military Academy. Edinburgh, 1831.
Noticed by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 377.
16. The Adventures of the Caliph Haroun Al-raschid. Recounted by the Author of “Mary Powell” [Miss Manning]. 8vo., London, 1855; Arthur Hall, Virtue & Co.
17. The 1001 Days, a Companion to the Arabian Nights, with introduction by Miss J.] Pardoe. 8vo., London 1857, woodcuts.
A miscellaneous collection partly derived from “Les Mille et un Jours” (cf. Nights x., pp. 499, 500). I have also seen a similar miscellaneous collection in French under the latter title. The tales in the English work are as follows:
I. Hassan Abdallah, or the Enchanted Keys Story
of Hassan.
Hassan Abdallah the
Basket Maker.
Hassan Abdallah the
Dervise Abounader
Ii. Soliman Bey and the Story Tellers
The First Story Teller.
The Second Story Teller.
The Third Story Teller.
III. Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China
Story of Prince Al-Abbas.
Story of Liri-in.
IV. The Wise Dey.
V. The Tunisian Sage.
VI. The Nose for Gold.
VII. The Treasures of Basra.
History of Aboulcassem.
VIII. The Old Camel.
IX. The Story of Medjeddin (Grimm’s “Haschem,” cf. Nights, x., p. 422).
X. King Bedreddin Lolo and his Vizier.
Story of the Old Slippers.
Story of Atalmulk, surnamed
the Sorrowful Vizier, and the Princess
Zelica.
Story of Malek and the
Princess Schirine
18. The Modern Arabian Nights. By Arthur A’Beckett and Linley Sambourne. London: Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1877, sm. 4to., with comic coloured frontispieces and woodcuts.
Four clever satires (social and political) as follows:
1. Alley Baber and Son, a Mock Exchange Story. 2. Ned Redding and the Beautiful Persian. 3. The Ride of Captain Alf Rashit to Ke-Vere-Street. 4. Mr. O’Laddin and the Wonderful Lamp.
19. Tales of the Caliph. By Al Arawiyah, 8vo., London, T. Fisher Unwin, 1887.
Belongs to Class 5 (Imitations). Consists of fictitious adventures supposed to have happened to Harun Al-Rashid, chiefly during his nocturnal rambles.
Separate Editions of Single or
Composite Tales (Pp. 439
441).
P. 440.—No. 184 was published under the title of “Woman’s Wit” in the “Literary Souvenir” for 1831, pp.217-237.derived from Langles’ version (Mr. L.C. Smithers in litt.).
Translation of Cognate Oriental
Romances Illustrative
of the Nights (Pp. 441-443).
P. 441, No. 1. Les Mille et un Jours.
Mr. L. C. Smithers (in litt.) notes English editions published in 1781 and 1809, the latter under the title of “The Persian and Turkish Tales.”
P. 443, No. 5. Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura recueillis et traduits par J. Riviere. 12mo. Paris: Leroux. 1882.
This collection is intended to illustrate the habits and ideas of the people. The tales are very short, and probably very much abridged, but many of them illustrate the Nights. I may note the following tales as specially interesting from their connection with the Nights, or with important tales in other collections, Oriental or otherwise.
Thadhillala. A brief abstract of No. 151.
Les deux Freres. A variant of Herodotus’ Story of Rhampsinitus.
L’homme de bien et le mechant. 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.
Jesus-Christ et la femme infidels (=261 b.; cf. Nights, x., p. 420).
Le Roitelet. This is the fable of the Ox and the Frog.
L’idiot et le coucou (=No. 206a).
Moh’amed teen Soltan. This is one of the class of stories known to folk-lorists as the Punchkin series. The life of a Ghul is hidden in an egg, the egg in a pigeon, the pigeon in a camel, and the camel in the sea.
Les deux Freres. A Cinderella story. The slayer of a hydra is discovered by trying on a shoe.
Les trots Freres. Here a Ghul is killed by a single blow from a magic dagger, which must not be repeated. (Cf. Nights, vii., p. 361.) In this story, too, the protection of a Ghulah is secured by tasting her milk, a point which we find in Spitta Bey’s “Comes Arabes Modernes,” but not in the Nights.
9. Turkish Evening Entertainments. “The Wonders of Remarkable Incidents and the Rarities of Anecdotes,” by Ahmed ibn Hemdem the Kethhoda called “Sobailee.” Translated from the Turkish by John F. Brown. 8vo., New York, 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’asir wa ghara ’ib ennawadir,’ written for Muad 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’Avise,” which Mr. Sydney Hartland renders “Prudent,” and Mr. W. A. Clouston “Discreet.” The original gives “Essatir Mehammed.” (Al-Shatir Mohammed, i.e., M. the Clever.) The frequent occurrence of the number 39 (forty less one) may also be noted. Ghuls often play the part which we should expect Jinn to fill. The bear, which occurs in two stories, is not an Egyptian animal. Having called attention to these general features we may leave the tales to speak for themselves.
I. Histoire de Mohammed l’Avise.
Contains the essential features of Cazotte’s story of the Maugraby (cf. Nights, x., p 418) with interesting additions. The “Mogrebin” 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
Ii. Histoire de l’Ours de Cuisine.
This begins as a swan-maiden story.[FN#439] A king steals the feather-dress of a bathing maiden, who will only marry him on condition that she shall tear out the eyes of his forty women (39 white slaves and a princess). The king answers, “C’est bien, il n’y a pas d’inconvenient.” 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’Avise,” 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 Ghuleh 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 Ghuleh, 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 Ghuleh, 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 Jann.” He kills the Bull as before. A fortnight afterwards, the queen hides a loaf of dry bread under her mattress. When its cracking gives rise to the idea that she is very ill, and she complains of great pain in the sides. She demands a pomegranate from the White Valley, where the pomegranates grow to the weight of half a cantar.[FN#440] The Ghuleh tells him she cannot help him, but he must wait for her son Adberrahym. When he arrives he remarks, “Hum! mother, there’s a smell of man about you, bring him here to me to eat for breakfast.” But his mother introduces Mohammed to him as his foster brother, and he becomes friendly at once, but says that the pomegranate is the queen’s sister. He tells Mohammed to get an ardebb of small round loaves in a basket, along with a piece of meat, and a piece of liver. The
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 Pecheur 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’Avise (Al-Shatir), 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
V.—Histoire de Dalal.
Dalal was a little girl, the daughter of a king, who found a louse on her head, and put it into a jar of oil, where it remained till Dalal was twenty years old, when it burst the jar, and emerged in the form of a horned buffalo. The king ordered the hide to be hung at the gate of the palace, and proclaimed that anyone who could discover what the skin was should marry his daughter, but whoever tried and failed should lose his head. Thirty-nine suitors thus perished, when a Ghul passed by in the form of a man, who knew the secret. He took Dalal home with him and brought her a man’s head, but as she would not eat it, he brought her a sheep. He then visited her under the forms of her mother and her two aunts, and told her that her husband was a Ghul; but she refused to believe it until the third visit. Then he was angry; but she begged him to let her go to the bath before she was eaten. He consented, took her to a bath, and sat at the door; but she rubbed herself with mud, changed clothes with an old lupine-seller, and escaped for a time. She reached a palace which she would not enter until she was invited by the Prince himself, who then proposed to marry her, but on the wedding day, her husband, having tracked her out, contrived that another Ghul 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 Ghul carried off Dalal from beside the prince to the
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
VII.—Histoire du prince qui apprit un metier.
A prince named Mohammed l’Avise 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,
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
IX.—Histoire du musician ambulant et de son fils.
This travelling musician was so poor that when his wife was confined, he went out to beg for their immediate necessities, and found a hen lying on the ground with an egg under her. He met a Jew to whom he sold the egg for twenty mahboubs. The hen laid an egg every day, which the Jew bought for twenty mahboubs, and the musician became rich and opened a merchant’s shop. When his son was grown, he built a school for him at his own expense, where poor children were taught to read. Then the musician set out on pilgrimage, charging his wife not to let the Jew trick her out of the hen. A fortnight afterwards, the Jew called, and persuaded the woman to sell him the hen for a
X.—Histoire du rossignol chanteur.
Three brothers built a palace for their mother and sister after their father’s death. The sister loved someone of whom the brothers disapproved. An old woman advised the sister to send her brothers for the singing nightingale. The two eldest would not wait till the bird was asleep, but while they were trying to shut his cage, he dusted sand over them with his claws, and sunk them to the seventh earth. The beads and the ring gave warning of their deaths at home; but the third, who left a rose with his mother, to fade if he died captured the bird, and received sand from under the cage. When he scattered it on the ground, more than a thousand men rose up, some negroes and some Turks. The brothers were not among them, so the youngest was told to scatter white
XI .—Histoire d’ Arab-Zandyq.
This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii., p. 411, and need not be repeated here.
XII.—Histoire du prince et de son cheval.
A prince and foal were born at the same time, and some time afterwards the mother and the mare died. The king married again, and the new queen had an intrigue with a Jew. They plotted to poison the prince, but his horse wept and warned him. Then the queen pretended to be ill, and asked for the heart of the horse, but the prince fled to another kingdom, and bought clothes from a poor man, packing his own on his horse. Then he parted from the horse, who gave him a hair and a flint, telling him to light
The 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, Basim le Forgeron et Haron Er-Rachid, 8vo., Leyden, 1888.
Text and translation of a modern Arabic story of an unfortunate smith and hashish-eater whom Harun encounters on one of his usual nocturnal rambles. Harun plays a succession of practical jokes on him, driving him out of his employment every day, and supping with him every night. At last he bastinadoes him, and throws him into prison, where a jinniyah takes pity on him, and confers unlimited power on him, which he enjoys for a week, and then dies, to the great grief of Harun.
Additional Note to Suppl. Vol. V. (Pp. 318-320).
Compare Boccaccio’s story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 11).
The Biography of the Book
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.]
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 bounder duty, in presence of the Great Public, to put forth his reply, if he have any satisfactory and interesting rejoinder, and by such ordeal to purge himself and prove his innocence unless he would incur wittingly impeachment for contumacy and contempt of court.
It is not only an instinct of human nature expressed by nemo me impure 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 represailles 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 coelum; and the heathenish and old- Adamical sentiment of the clansman anent Roderick Dhu—
“Who rights his
wrong where it was given
If it were in the court
of Heaven,”
L. of the Lake, v. 6.
—commends itself far more to what divines are pleased to call “fallen human nature” that is the natural man.
And here before crossing the threshold, I would seize the opportunity of expressing my cordial gratitude and hearty thanks to the Press in general, which has received my Eastern studies and contributions to Oriental knowledge in the friendliest and most sympathetic spirit, appreciating my labours far beyond the modicum of the offerer’s expectation and lending potent and generous aid to place them before the English world in the fairest and most favourable point of view. To number a small proportion of “black sheep” is no shame for a flock amounting to myriads: such exceptional varieties must be bred for the use and delectation of those who prefer to right wrong and darkness to light. It is with these only that my remarks and retorts will deal and consequently I have assigned to them the post of honour. The various extracts from notices, favourable appreciative and complimentary, appear as the “Opinions of the Press” at the end of this volume, and again I take the opportunity of professing myself truly thankful for the good word of the Fourth Estate, and for its wisely detecting the soul of good in things evil.
The romantic and exceptional circumstances under which my large labour was projected and determined have been sufficiently described in the Foreword (vol. i. pp. vii- x). I may here add that during a longsome obligatory halt of some two months at East African Zayla’ and throughout a difficult and dangerous march across the murderous Somali country upon Harar-Gay, then the Tinbukhtu 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-scene 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
—Contente-vous,
mes yeux,
Jamais vous ne verrez chose plus belle;
and the picture still haunts me.
* * * * * *
And now, turning away from these and similar pleasures of memory, and passing over the once told tale (Foreword, vol. i. pp. viii., ix.) of how, when and where work was begun, together with the disappointment caused by the death of my friend and collaborator, Steinhaeuser concerning the copying process which commenced in 1879 and anent the precedence willingly accorded to the “Villon Edition,” I proceed directly to what may be termed
The Engineering of the Work.
During the autumn of ’82, after my return from the Gold Coast (with less than no share of the noble metal which my companion Cameron and I went forth to find and found a failure), my task began in all possible earnest with ordering the old scraps of translation and collating a vast heterogeneous collection of notes. I was fortunate enough to discover at unlettered Trieste, an excellent copyist able and willing to decypher a crabbed hand and deft at reproducing facetious and drolatic words without thoroughly comprehending their significance. At first my exertions were but fitful and the scene was mostly a sick bed to which I was bound between October ’83 and June ’84. Marienbad, however, and Styrian Sauerbrunn (bed Rohitsch) set me right and on return to Trieste (Sept. 4, ’84), we applied ourselves to the task of advertising, the first two volumes being almost ready for print.
And here we were confronted by a serious question, What number of copies would suffice my public? A distinguished Professor who had published some 160,000 texts with prices ranging from 6d. to 50 guineas, wrote to me in all kindness advising an issue of 150 to 250: an eminent printer-publisher would have ventured upon some 500: others rose to 750 with a warning-note anent “wreckage,” great risk and ruinous expenditure, while only one friend—and he not in business—urged an edition of 2,000 to 3,000 with encouraging words as to its probable reception. After long forethought I chose 1,000 as a just 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 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
“Lastly, there is Mr. John Payne’s excellent translation, which has occupied him during seven years and is just brought to a conclusion. Mr. Payne bound himself to print not more than 500 copies, and his nine volumes, not published but printed, nominally for the Villon Society, are unprocurable except at a price which to the general public is prohibitive.
“Captain Burton began his work on this extraordinary monument of Oriental literature in 1852, at Aden, with some help from his friend Dr. Steinhaeuser, of the Bombay Army. He has gone on with it as opportunity offered, and as other literary and official labours and his many journeys in savage lands permitted. The text and the subject offer many difficulties, and it is to these difficulties that he has devoted especial attention. His object is to reproduce the book in a form as entirely Arabian as possible, preserving the strict division of the nights, and keeping (a more questionable matter) to the long unbroken sentences in which the composer indulged, imitating also the rhythmic prose which is a characteristic of the Arabic. The effect in English remains to be seen, but of the value of Captain Burton’s method as an experiment in literature there can be no doubt, or of its great interest to everybody who cares for Oriental habits of thought and language. He will not shirk any of the passages which do not suit the taste of the day, but these, Captain Burton thinks, will not commonly be found more objectionable than some which are in Shakespeare and in Shakespeare’s contemporaries. At the same time it will be understood that the book is intended for men only and for the study;—not for women or children, nor for the drawing-room table or dentist’s waiting-room. It will be printed by subscription and not published.
“Few are the Oriental scholars in England who could do justice to this picture of the mediaeval Arab. Captain Burton is perhaps the only one who joins to the necessary linguistic knowledge that varied practical experience of Eastern life which alone in many cases can supply the true meaning of a troublesome passage or an accurate comment upon it. His aim is to make the book in its English dress not only absolutely literal in text but Oriental in tone and colour. He knows the tales almost by heart, and used to keep the Bedouin tribes in roars of laughter in camp during the long summer nights by reciting them. Sheiks to whom a preternatural solemnity of demeanour is usual were to be seen rolling on the ground in paroxysms of uncontrollable mirth. It was also Burckhardt’s custom to read the stories aloud, but the Arabs would snatch the book from his hand because his pronunciation was so bad. Captain Burton is said to have an Arab accent not easily distinguishable from the native. When he contents himself with the English tongue here in England, he is one of the most picturesque talkers to be met with. I can remember a certain dinner-party, now many years ago, where the great traveller kept us all listening till long past day-break; narrating, as he did, the most singular adventures with the most vivid fidelity to facts. That, however, is a digression. I have only to add that Captain Burton has the names of many subscribers and will doubtless be glad to receive others which may, I suppose, be sent to him at Trieste. His present hope is to be ready to go to press next February and to bring out the whole of the volumes in 1885.”
(Signed) G. W. S.
Concerning this “American” communication and its author I shall have more to say in a future page.
Some 24,000 to 30,000 circulars were posted at an expense of 126 pounds and they produced about 800 favourable replies which, after my return to England (May ’85), rose to 1,500 and to 2,000 as my unprofessional friend, and he only, had anticipated. Meanwhile occurred an incident characteristic of such appeals by the inexperienced to the public. A case containing 1,100 circulars had been sent to my agent for mailing in London, and my secretary had unfortunately gummed their envelopes. Hereupon I should have been subjected by the Post Office to the pains and penalties of the law, perhaps to a fine of 200 pounds. But when the affair was reported, with due explanations, to the late lamented Postmaster-General Henry Fawcett—a man in a million, and an official in ten millions— he had the justice and generosity to look upon the offence as the result of pure ignorance, and I received a caution “not to do it again.”
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 communique; to The Academy.
“Tuppenceas A touchstone.”
Trieste, Nov. 2, 85.
“Can you kindly find space for a few lines on a purely personal matter which is causing me abundant trouble? A box of circulars giving details concerning my forthcoming version of the Arabian Nights was sent to London with directions to stamp and post the contents. The envelopes having been inadvertently gummed down, the case was stopped by the Custom-house, and was transmitted to the Post Office where it was found to contain circulars not letters, and of these sundry were forwarded without prepayment. The pleasant result was that one out-spoken gentleman writes upon the circular, which he returns,—When you send your trash again, put postage-stamps on. A second is peremptorily polite, Please forward four stamps to the Adjutant of the —th Regiment. The ‘Chaplain of the Forces at ——,’ at once ironical and severe, ventures to suggest to Captain Burton that it is advisable, if he thinks his book worth selling, to put the postage on future advertisements. A fourth who, I regret to say, signs himself Lieutenant Colonel, gives me advice about pre-payment written in an orderly’s hand upon a torn envelope (gratuitously insulting!); encloses the 2d. stamp and sends the missive under official cover ‘On Her Majesty’s Service.’ The idea of a French or an Austrian Colonel lowering himself so infinitely low! Have these men lost all sense of honour, all respect for themselves (and others) because they can no longer be called to account for their insolence more majorum? I never imagined ‘Tuppence’ to be so cunning a touchstone for detecting and determining the difference between gold and dross; nor can I deeply regret that circumstance and no default of mine has placed in hand Ithuriel’s spear in the shape of the said ’Tuppence’.”
I am, Sir, etc.
Richard F. Burton.
The process of filling-up my list presented a fine and varied study of character; and an extensive experience of subscribers, as well as of non-subscribers, presently enabled me to distribute the genus into the following eight species. The friendly subscriber who takes ten copies (more or less) forwarding their value. The gentleman subscriber who pays down his confidingly. The cautious-canny subscriber who ventures 5. 5s., or half the price. The impudent and snobbish subscriber who will address his victim as follows:—
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 dribblers. And lastly comes the dishonest subscriber who does not pay at all. I must however, in justice own that species No. viii. is rare: of one thousand the proportion was only about a score.
In mid-June, ’85, I returned to London and began at once to prepare for issuing the book. Having found the publisher peculiarly unsatisfactory—with one single and remarkable exception my venerable friend, Mr. Van Voorst, whilome of Paternoster Row—I determined, like Professor Arber, to do without him, although well aware how risky was the proceeding, which would, in the case of a work for general reading, have arrayed against me the majority of the trade and of their “hands,” the critics. Then I sought hard, but sought in vain, for the agency of a literary friend or friends, men of name and note, like those who assisted in the Villon version: all feared the responsibility and the expected storm of abuse which, however, failed to burst.
Under these circumstances “The Printing Times,” a professional periodical produced by Messieurs Wymans, was pleased (August 25, ’85) to be unpleasantly intrusive on the subject of my plan. “We always heard associated with the publication of this important work, the name of Mr.——, which is now conspicuous by its absence, nor is, apparently the name of any other leading publishing house to be identified with its production” (The Printer’s Devil is, I presume, responsible for the English!) The writer then warns me in all (un-)friendliness that if the printers forget to add their imprint, they would become liable to a legal penalty; that the work is unsafe for literal translation and, lastly that although printed by private subscription, “It is likely enough to be pronounced an injury to public morals to the danger of the author and his printers.” The unhappy article concludes, “We await the issue of the first volume since much will depend upon the spirit(!) in which the translation has been undertaken; certainly the original text is not suitable for general circulation (connu!) unless edited with the utmost care and discretion.”
To this production so manifestly inspired by our old friend s. d., I replied in The Aademy (August 7, ’85), the gist of the few lines being as follows:—
In answer to many inquiries from friends and others, will you allow me to repeat through your columns, that my translation of the “Arabian Nights” will be strictly limited to 1,000 copies, each sent to picked subscribers, and to renew the promise which I before made, that no cheaper edition shall be printed? Correspondents have complained that I have not stated the price; but I have mentioned over and over again that there are ten volumes, at one guinea each—my object in making it so expensive being to keep it from the general public. I am also troubled with inquiries as to who is my publisher I am my own publisher, inaugurating (Inshallah!) a golden age for authors. Jesting apart the book has no publisher. It is printed by myself for the benefit of Orientalists and Anthropologists, and nothing could be more repugnant to me than the idea of a book of the kind being published or being put into the hands of any publisher.
The first volume dated “Benares: MDCCCLXXXV: Printed by the Kamashastra Society for Private Subscribers only,” did not appear till September 12, ’85: it had been promised for March and had been delayed by another unavoidable detention at Trieste. But my subscribers had no further cause of complaint; ten tomes in sixteen months ought to satisfy even the most exigent.
No. i. volume was accompanied by a circular earnestly requesting that the book might not be exposed for sale in public places or permitted to fall into the hands of any save curious students of Moslem manners. Yet the birth of the first-born was accompanied (I am fain to confess) with no small trouble and qualms to the parent and to all who assisted at the parturition. Would the “little stranger” robed in black and gold, the colours of the Abbaside Caliphs, with its brick-red night-cap after the fashion of ecclesiastical bandings, be kindly welcomed or would it be regarded as an abortion, a monster? The reader will readily understand how welcome to an author in such perplexity came the following article from the Standard (September 12), usually attributed to the popular and trenchant pen of Mr. Alfred Austin. I must be permitted to quote it entire, because it expresses so fully and so admirably all and everything I could desire a reviewer to write. And the same paper has never ceased to give me the kindest encouragement: its latest notice was courteous and appreciative as its earliest.
The first volume of Captain Burton’s long-expected edition of the “Arabian Nights” was issued yesterday to those who are in a position to avail themselves of the wealth of learning contained in this monumental labour of the famous Eastern traveller. The book is printed for subscribers only, and is sold at a price which is not likely to be paid by any save the scholars and students for whose instruction it is intended. But though the Benares “Kamashastra Society” are careful to let the world know that the “Thousand Nights and a Night” is not “published” in the technical sense of the term, the pages which will be read by a thousand purchasers may be fittingly regarded as the property of the world at large. In any case, the day when the experience of a life was embodied into this fresh translation of the “Alf Laylah wa Laylah” marks a distinct stage in the history of Oriental research. The world has had numerous versions of these stories. For at least a century and a half they have delighted old and young, until Shahrazade and Dunyazade, the Fisherman and the Jinn, and the tales told by the Tailor, the Kalendar, the Nazarene broker, and the Hunchback. . . to say nothing of Aladdin, Ali Baba, Sinbad the Sailor, and Camaralzaman and Badoura—seem like the most familiar of friends. Yet many of those who know the ordinary epitome prepared for the nursery and the drawing-room have little idea of the nature of the original. Galland’s abridgment was a mere shadow of the Arabic. Even the editions
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,
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
This was a sop to the friend and a sore blow dealt to the enemy. Moreover it was speedily followed up by another as swashing and trenchant in the Morning Advertiser (September 15, ’85), of which long extracts are presently quoted. The journal was ever friendly to me during the long reign of Mr. James Grant, and became especially so when the editorial chair was so worthily filled by my old familiar of Oxford days, the late Alfred Bate Richards, a man who made the “Organ of the Licensed Victuallers” a power in the state and was warmly thanked for his good services by that model conservative, Lord Beaconsfield.
A phrase in the Standard, the “most archaic of the passages,” acted upon
The “Pall Mall Gazette”
like a red rag upon a rageous bull. I should rather say that it excited the so-called “Sexual I Journal” by suggesting another opportunity for its unclean sensationalism: perhaps also the staff hoped to provide company and a fellow-sufferer for their editor, who was then in durance vile, his of fences being “inciting to an indecent assault” and an act of criminal immorality. I should not have felt called upon to remind my readers of a scandal half forgotten in England, while still held in lively remembrance by the jealous European world, had not the persistent fabrications, calumnies, and slanders of the Pall Mall, which continue to this day, compelled me to move in self-defence, and to explain the mean under lying motives.
Some three years and a half ago (June 3, ’85), the paper startled the world of London by a prodigy of false, foul, and fulsome details in the shape of articles entitled “The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon.” The object of the editor, Mr. William T. Stead, a quondam teacher in the London schools and a respectable Methodist strengthened by non- Conformist support, in starting this ignoble surprise on the public was much debated. His partisans asserted that he had been honestly deceived by some designing knave as if such child-like credulity were any excuse for a veteran journalist! His foes opined that under the cloak of a virtue, which Cato never knew, he sought to quicken his subscription list ever dwindling under the effects of his exaggerated Russophilism and Anglophobia.
But whatever may have been the motive, the effect was deplorable. The articles, at once collected into a pamphlet (price two pence), as the “Report of the Pall Mall Gazette’s Secret Commission,” and headed by a laudatory quotation from one of the late Lord Shaftesbury’s indiscreetly philanthropic speeches, were spread broadcast about every street and lane in London. The brochure of sixteen pages divided into three chapters delighted the malignant with such sensational section-headings as—How Girls are Bought and Ruined—Why the Cries of the Victims are not Heard—Procuresses in the West End—How Annie was Procured—You Want a Maid, do You?—The Ruin of Children—A London Minotaur(?)—The Ruin of the Young Life—The Demon Child and—A Close Time for Girls, the latter being intended to support the recommendation of the Lords’ Committee and the promise of a Home Secretary that the age of consent be raised from thirteen to sixteen. And all this catchpenny stuff (price 2d.) ended characteristically with “Philanthropic and Religious Associations can be supplied with copies of this reprint on special terms.” Such artless benevolence and disinterested beneficence must, of course, be made to pay.
Read by every class and age in the capital, the counties and the colonies, this false and filthy scandal could not but infect the very children with the contagion of vice. The little gutter-girls and street-lasses of East London looked at men passing-by as if assured that their pucelages were or would become vendible at 3 to 5. But, the first startling over men began to treat the writer as he deserved. The abomination was “boycotted” by the Press, expelled from clubs, and driven in disgrace from the “family breakfast table,” an unpleasant predicament for a newspaper which lives, not by its news, but by its advertise meets. The editor had the impudence to bemoan a “conspiracy of silence,” which can only mean that he wanted his foul sheets to be bought and discussed when the public thought fit to bury them in oblivion. And yet he must have known that his “Modern Babylon” is not worse in such matters than half-a-dozen minor Babylons scattered over Europe, Asia, and America;
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 these “revelations” came the Eliza Armstrong case whereby the editor of the “Sexual Gazette” stultified thoroughly and effectually his own assertions; and proved most satisfactorily, to the injury of his own person, that the easiest thing in the world is notably difficult and passing dangerous. An accomplice, unable to procure a “maiden” for immoral purposes after boasting her ability as a procuress, proceeded to kidnap one for the especial benefit of righteous Mr. Stead. Consequently, he found himself in the dock together with five other accused, male and female; and the verdict, condemning the archplotter to three months and the assistants to lesser terms of imprisonment for abduction and indecent assault, was hailed with universal applause. The delinquent had the fanatical and unscrupulous support, with purse and influence, of the National Vigilance Association, a troop of busybodies captained by licensed blackmailers who of late years have made England their unhappy hunting-ground.[FN#446] Despite, however, the “Stead Defence Fund” liberally supplied by Methody; despite the criminal’s Pecksniffan tone, his self-glorification of the part he had taken, his effronte 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
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 role. In reply to a question about critics my remark to the interviewer was, “I have taken much interest in what the classics call Skiomachia and I shall allow Anonymus and Anonyma to howl unanswered. I shall also treat with scornful silence the miserables who, when shown a magnificent prospect, a landscape adorned with the highest charms of Nature and Art, can only see in a field corner here and there a little heap of muck. ’You must have been looking for it, Madam!’ said, or is said to have said, sturdy old Doctor Samuel Johnson.”
Moreover Mr. Morley’s style of reporting “interviews” was somewhat too advanced and American—that is, too personal, too sensation-mongering and too nauseously familiar—to suit my taste, and I would have none other of them. Hereupon being unable to make more copy out of the case the Pall Mall Gazette let loose at me a German Jew pennyliner, who signs himself Sigma. This pauvre diable delivered himself of two articles, “Pantagruelism or Pornography?” (September 14, ’85) and “The Ethics of the Dirt” (September 19, ’85), wherein with matchless front of brass he talks of the “unsullied British breakfast-table,” so pleasantly provided with pepper by his immaculate editor. And since that time the Pall Mall Gazette has never ceased to practice at my expense its old trade, falsehood and
Of course men were not wanting to answer the malevolent insipidities of the Pall Mall Gazette, and to note the difference between newspaper articles duly pamphleted and distributed to the disgust of all decency, and the translation of an Arabian limited in issue and intended only for the few select. Nor could they fail to observe that black balling The Nights and admitting the “revelations” was a desperate straining at the proverbial gnat and swallowing the camel. My readers will hardly thank me for dwelling upon this point yet I cannot refrain from quoting certain of the protests:—
Sir,
To the Editor of the “Pall Mall Gazette.”
Your correspondent “Sigma” has forgotten the considerable number of “students” who will buy Captain Burton’s translation as the only literal one, needing it to help them in what has become necessary to many—a masterly knowledge of Egyptian Arabic. The so-called “Arabian Nights” are about the only written half-way house between the literary Arabic and the colloquial Arabic, both of which they need, and need introductions too. I venture to say that its largest use will be as a grown-up school-book and that it is not coarser than the classics in which we soak all our boys’ minds at school.
AngloEgyptian
September
14th, 1885.
And the Freethinker’s answer (Oct. 25, ’85) to these repeated and malicious assaults is as follows:—
Here is a fine illustration of Mr. Stead’s Pecksniffian peculiarities. Captain Burton, a gentleman and a scholar whose boots Mr. Stead is not fit to black, is again hauled over the coals for the hundredth time about his new translation of the Arabian Nights, which is so “pornographic” that the price of the first volume has actually risen from a pound to twenty-five shillings. Further down, in the very same column, the P.M.G. gloats proudly over the fact that thirty-five shillings have been given for a single copy of its own twopennyworth of smut.
The last characteristic touch which I shall take the trouble to notice is the following gem of September 16, ’87:—
I was talking to an American novelist the other day, and he assured me that the Custom-house authorities on “the other side” seized all copies of Sir Richard Burton’s “Nights” that came into their hands, and retained them as indecent publications. Burned them, I hope he meant, and so, I fear, will all holders of this notorious publication, for prices will advance, and Sir Richard will chuckle to think that indecency is a much better protection than international copyright.
Truly the pen is a two-edged tool, often turned by the fool against his own soul. So an honest author “chuckles” when his subscribers have lost their copies because this will enhance the value of his book! I ask, Can anything be better proven than the vileness of a man who is ever suspecting and looking for vileness in his fellow-men? Again, the assertion that the Custom-house authorities in the United States had seized my copies is a Pall-Mallian fiction pure and simple, and the “Sexual Gazette” must have known this fact right well. In consequence of a complaint lodged by the local Society for the Suppression of Vice, the officials of the Custom-house, New York, began by impounding the first volumes of the Villon Version; but presently, as a literary friend informs me (February 10, ’88), “the new translations of The Nights have been fully permitted entry at the Custom-house and are delivered on the payment of 25% duty.” To my copies admittance was never refused.
Mr. Stead left his prison-doors noisily declaring that the rest of his life should be “devoted to Christian chivalry”—whatever that majestic dictum may mean. As regards his subsequent journalistic career I can observe only that it has been unfortunate as inconsequent. He took up the defence, abusing the Home Secretary after foulest fashion of the card-blooded murderer Lipski, with the result that his protege 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
A journal which, like the Pall Mall Gazette, affects preferably and persistently sexual subjects and themes rubric, works more active and permanent damage to public morals than books and papers which are frankly gross and indecent. The latter, so far as the world of letters knows them, are read either for their wit and underlying wisdom (e.g. Rabelais and Swift), for their historical significance (Petronius Arbiter) or for their anthropological interest as the Alf Laylah. But the public print which deals, however primly and decently, piously and unctuously, with sexual and inter-sexual relations, usually held to be of the Alekta or taboo’d subjects, is the real perverter of conduct, the polluter of mental purity, the corrupter-general of society. Amongst savages and barbarians the comparatively unrestrained intercourse between men and women relieves the brain through the body; the mind and memory have scant reason, physical or mental, to dwell fondly upon visions amatory and venereal, to live in a “rustle of (imaginary) copulation.” On the other hand the utterly artificial life of civilization, which debauches even the monkeys in “the Zoo,” and which expands the period proper for the reproductory process from the vernal season into the whole twelvemonth, leaves to the many, whose lot is celibacy, no bodily want save one and that in a host of cases either unattainable or procurable only by difficulty and danger. Hence the prodigious amount of mental excitement and material impurity which is found wherever civilization extends, in maid, matron, and widow, save and except those solely who allay it by some counteragent —religion, pride, or physical frigidity. How many a woman in “Society,” when stricken by insanity or puerperal fever, breaks out into language that would shame the slums and which makes the hearers marvel where she could have learned such vocabulary. How many an old maid held to be cold as virgin snow, how many a matron upon whose fairest fame not a breath of scandal has blown, how many a widow who proudly claims the title univira, must relieve their pent-up feelings by what may be called mental prostitution. So I would term the dear delights of sexual converse and that sub-erotic literature, the phthisical “French novel,” whose sole merit is “suggestiveness,”
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 coryphaeus of the Reptile Press in Great Britain, has apparently still to learn that lying and slandering are neither Christian nor chivalrous.
The diminutive Echo of those days (October 13 and 14, ’85) followed suit of the Pall Mall Gazette and caught lightly the sounds as they fell from the non-melliferous lips of the charmer who failed to charm wisely. The precious article begins by informing me that I am “always eager after the sensational,” and that on this occasion I “cater for the prurient curiosity of the wealthy few,” such being his synonym for “readiness to learn.” And it ends with the following comical colophon:—“Captain Burton may possibly imitate himself(?) and challenge us(!) to mortal combat for this expression of opinion. If so, the writer of these lines will imitate himself(?) and take no notice of such an epistle.” The poor scribe suggests the proverbial “Miss Baxter, who refused a man before he axed her.” And what weapon could I use, composing-stick or dung-fork, upon an anonymous correspondent of the hawkers’ and newsboys’ “Hecker,” the favourite ha’porth of East London? So I left him to the tender mercies of Gaiety (October 14, ’84):—
The Echo is just a bit
wild,
Its
“par.” is indeed a hard hitter:
In fact, it has not
drawn it mild
’Tis
a matter of “Burton and bitter.”
I rejoice to subjoin that the Echo has now (1888) made a name for decent and sensible writing, having abandoned the “blatant” department to the Star (see, for the nonsense about a non-existent Alderman Waterlow, its issue of September 6, ’88).
In the opinions of the Press will be found a selection from half a century of laudatory notices to which the few curious touching such matters will turn, while those who misjudged my work are duly acknowledged in this paper. Amongst friends I would specify without invidious distinction, The Bat (September 29, ’85), who on this occasion and sundry others sturdily defended me, showing himself a bird of “light and leading.” To the St. James’s Gazette (September 12, ’85), the Whitehall Review (September 17), the Home News (September 18), and the Nottingham Journal (September 19), I am also indebted for most appreciative and intelligent notices. My cordial thanks are likewise due to the Editor and especially to “Our London Correspondent” of the Lincoln Gazette (October 10 and October 17, ’85, not to notice sundry minor articles): the articles will be reprinted almost entire because they have expressed my meaning as though it came from my own mouth. I have quoted Mr. J. Addington Symonds in extenso: if England now possesses a writer who can deliver an authoritative judgment on literary style it is this litterateur. Of the journals which profess letters The Academy has ever been my friend and I have still the honour of corresponding with it: we are called “faddists” probably from our “fad” of signing our articles and thus enabling the criticised to criticise the critic.
I now turn to another of my unfriends, amongst whom is and long has been
The “Saturday Review,”
This ancient dodderer, who has seen better days, deigned favour me with six notices (January 2 and March 27, ’86; April 30, June 4, August 14, ’87, and July 21, ’88), of which No. i., dealing with my first and second volumes, is written after the facile American fashion, making the book review itself; that is, supply to the writer all the knowledge and familiarity with the subject which he parades before an incurious and easily gullible public. This especial form of dishonesty has but lately succeeded to and ousted the classical English critique of Jeffrey, Macaulay, and the late Mr. Abraham Hayward, which was mostly a handy peg for the contents of the critic’s noddle or note book. The Saturnine article opens characteristically.
Abroad we English have the character of being the most prudish of nations; we are celebrated as having Bowdlerized for our babes and sucklings even the immortal William Shakespeare; but we shall infallibly lose this our character should the Kamashastra Society flourish. Captain Burton has long been known as a bold explorer; his pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, disguised in the dress and taking on him the manners and customs of a True Believer, was a marvel of audacity; but perhaps he may be held now to have surpassed himself, for he has been bold enough to lay before his countrymen a literal and unexcised translation of The Arabian Nights.
The writer is kind enough to pat me upon the back for “picturesque and fluent English” and to confess that I have successfully imitated the rhyming cadence of the original. But The Saturday would not be The Saturday without carping criticism, wrong-headedness and the culte of the common-place, together with absolute and unworthy cruelty to weaker vessels. The reviewer denounces as “too conceited to be passed over without comment” the good old English “whenas” (for when, vol. ii. 130), the common ballad-terms “a plump of spearmen” (ii. 190) and a “red cent” (i. 321), the only literal rendering of “Fals ahmar” which serves to show the ancient and noble pedigree of a slang term supposed to be modern and American. Moreover this Satan even condemns fiercely the sin of supplying him with “useful knowledge.” The important note (ii. 45) upon the normal English mispronunciation of the J in Jerusalem, Jesus, Jehovah, a corruption whose origin and history are unknown to so many, and which was, doubtless, a surprise to this Son of King “We,” is damned as “uninteresting to the reader of the Arabian Nights.” En revanche, three mistakes of mine ("p. 43” for “p. 45” in vol. ii., index; “King Zahr Shah” for “King Suleyman Shah,” ii. 285, and the careless confusion of the Caliphs Al-Muntasir and Al- Mustansir, ii. 817, note i.) were corrected and I have duly acknowledged the correction. No. i. article ends with Saturnine geniality and utterly ignoring a bye-word touching dwellers in glass houses:—
Finally, we mark with regret that Captain Burton should find no more courteous terms to apply to the useful work of a painstaking clergyman than those where in his note he alludes to “Missionary Porter’s miserable Handbook.”
As Mr. Missionary Porter has never ceased to malign me, even in his last Edition of Murray’s “miserable Handbook,” a cento of Hibernian blunders and hashed Bible, I have every reason to lui rendre la pareille.
The second article (March 27, ’86), treating of vol. iii., opens with one of those plagiaristic common-places, so dear to the soul of The Saturday, in its staid and stale old age as in its sprightly youth. “There is particularly one commodity which all men, therein nobly disregarding their differences of creed and country, are of a mind that it is better to give than to receive. That commodity is good advice. We note further that the liberality with which this is everywhere offered is only to be equalled (he means ‘to be equalled only’) by the niggard reception at most times accorded to the munificent donation; in fact the very goodness of advice given apparently militates against its due appreciation in (by?) the recipient.” The critic then proceeds to fit his ipse dixit upon my case. The sense of the sentiment is the reverse of new: we find in The Spectator (No. dxii.), “There is nothing we receive with so much reluctance as good advice,” etc., but Mr. Spectator writes good English and his plagiarist does not. Nor
“The labours of a quarter of a century,” writes the translator in L’Envoi, “are now brought to a close, and certainly no one could have been found better suited by education and taste to the task of translating the ‘Nights’ than is the accomplished author of the ‘Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina.’ His summing up of the contents and character of ‘The Thousand and One Nights’ in the Terminal Essay is a masterpiece of careful analysis and we cannot do better than conclude our notice with a paragraph that resumes with wonderful effect the boundless imagination and variety of the picture that is conjured up before our eyes:—
“Viewed as a tout ensemble in full and complete form, they are a drama of Eastern life and a Dance of Death made sublime by faith and the highest emotions, by the certainty of expiation and the fulness of atoning equity, where virtue is victorious, vice is vanquished and the ways of Allah are justified to man. They are a panorama which remains kenspeckle upon the mental retina. They form a phantasmagoria in which archangels and angels, devils and goblins, men of air, of fire, of water, naturally mingle with men of earth, where flying horses and talking fishes are utterly realistic, where King and Prince must meet fishermen and pauper, lamia and cannibal, where citizen jostles Badawi, eunuch meets knight; the Kazi hob-nobs with the thief.... The work is a kaleidoscope where everything falls into picture, gorgeous palaces and pavilions; grisly underground caves and deadly words, gardens fairer than those of the Hesperid; seas dashing with clashing billows upon enchanted mountains, valleys of the Shadow of Death, air-voyages and promenades in the abysses of the ocean, the duello, the battle, and the siege, the wooing of maidens and the marriage rite. All the splendour and squalor, the beauty and baseness the glamour and grotesqueness, the magic and the mournfulness, the bravery and the baseness, of Oriental life are here.”
And now, after the Saturday Review has condescended severely and sententiously to bepreach me, I must be permitted a trifling return in kind. As is declared by the French an objectionable people which prefers la gloire to “duty,” and even places “honour” before “honesty,” the calling of the Fourth Estate is un sacerdoce, an Apostolate: it is a high and holy mission whose ends are the diffusion of Truth and Knowledge and the suppression of Ignorance and Falsehood. “Sacrilege,” with this profession, means the breaking of its two great commandments and all sins of commission and omission suggested and prompted by vain love of fame, by sordid self-esteem or by ignoble rancour. What then shall we say of a paper which, professedly established to “counteract the immorality of The Times,” adds to normal journalistic follies, offences and mistakes an utter absence of literary honour, systematic misrepresentation, malignity and absolute ruffianism? Let those who hold such language exaggerated glance at my piece 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 now, before addressing myself to another Reviewer, I would be allowed a few words upon two purely personal subjects; the style chosen for my translation and my knowledge of the Arabian language and literature.
I need hardly waste time to point out what all men discern more or less distinctly, how important are diction and expression in all works of fancy and fiction and how both branches, poetic and prosaic, delight in beauty adorned and allow in such matters the extreme of liberty. A long study of Galland and Torrens, Lane and Payne, convinced me that none of these translators, albeit each could claim his special merit, has succeeded in preserving the local colouring of the original. The Frenchman had gallicised and popularised the general tone and tenor to such extent that even the vulgar English versions have ever failed to throw off the French flavour. Torrens attempted literalism laudably and courageously enough; but his execution was of the roughest, the nude verbatim; nor did his familiarity with Arabic, or rather with Egyptian, suffice him for the task. Lane, of whom I have already spoken, and of whom I shall presently be driven by his imprudent relatives and interested friends to say more, affected the latinised English of the period flat and dull, turgid and vapid as that of Sale’s Koran; and his style proved the most insufficient and inadequate attire in which an Oriental romance of the Middle Ages could be arrayed. Payne was perfectly satisfactory to all cultivated tastes but he designedly converted a romantic into a classical work: none ignores its high merits regarded merely as strong and vital English, but it lacks one thing needful—the multiform variety of The Nights. The original Arabic text which in the first thirteen tales (Terminal Essay, p. 78) must date from before the xiiith century at the latest (since Galland’s Ms. in the Bibliotheque 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. Shahbandar), from Turkish (as Khatun) and from Sanscrit (for instance Brahman). As its equivalent, in vocabulary I could devise only a somewhat archaical English whose old-fashioned and sub-antique flavour would contrast with our modern and everyday speech, admitting at times even Latin and French terms, such as res scibilis and citrouille. The mixture startled the critics and carpers to whom its object had not been explained; but my conviction
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 clientele, must produce a version for a poor 20. But at his best the traducteur, while perfectly reproducing the matter and the manner of his original, works upon two lines. His prime and primary object is an honest and faithful copy, adding naught to the sense nor abating aught of its peculiar cachet whilst he labours his best to please and edify his readers. He has, however, or should have, another aim wherein is displayed the acme of hermeneutic art. Every language can profitably lend something to and borrow somewhat from its neighbours, near or far, an epithet, a metaphor, a turn of phrase, a naive idiom and the translator of original mind will not neglect the frequent opportunities of enriching his mother tongue with alien and novel ornaments, which will justly be accounted barbarisms until formally adopted and naturalised. Such are the “peoples” of Kossuth and the useful “lengthy,” an American revival of a good old English term. Nor will my modern versionist relegate to a foot-note, as is the malpractice of his banal brotherhood the interesting and often startling phases of his foreign author’s phraseology and dull the text with its commonplace English equivalent—thus doing the clean reverse of what he should do. It is needless to quote instances concerning this phase of “Bathos:” they abound in every occidental translation of every Oriental work, especially the French, such as Baron de Slane’s honest and conscientious “Ibn Khaldun.” It was this grand ideal of a translator’s duty that made Eustache Deschamps, a contemporary poet, write of his English brother bard.—
“Grand Translateur, Noble Geoffroy Chaucier.”
Here,
“The firste finder of our faire language”
is styled a “Socrates in philosophy, a Seneca in morals, an Angel in conduct and a great Translator,” which apparent anti-climax has scandalised not a little inditers of “Lives” and “Memoirs.” The title is given simply because Chaucer translated (using the best and highest sense of the term) into his English tongue and its linguistic peculiarities, the thoughts and ideas of his foreign models—the very letter and spirit of Petrarch and Boccacao.
That my attempts to reproduce the form and features of the original and thee my manner of writing is well adapted to the matter appears from the consensus of the “Notices” presently to be quoted. Mr. J. Addington Symonds pronounces the version to be executed with “peculiar literary vigour.” Mr. Swinburne is complimentary, and even the Saturday deigns to declare “Captain Burton is certainly felicitous in the manner in which he has englished the picturesque lines of the original.” But le style est de l’homme; and this is a matter upon which any and every educated man who writes honestly will form and express and retain his own opinion: there are not a few who loathe “Pickwick,” and who cannot relish Vanity Fair. So the Edinburgh Review No. 335 (pp. 174, 181), concerning which more anon, pronounces my work to be “a jumble of the vulgarest slang of all nations;” also “an unreadable compound of archaeology 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 mouillees they are called by an Arabist friend—that I do not know Arabic. Let me at once plead guilty to the charge, adding by way of circonstance attenuante that I know none who does know or who can thoroughly know a tongue of which we may say as did honest Izaak Walton of other two crafts, “angling be so like the mathematics that it can never be fully learned.” Most of us can master one section of a language concerning which those who use it vernacularly declare “Only Allah wotteth its entirety”, but we lack as yet the means to study it as a whole. Older by long ages than Babel’s fabulous Tower, and covering a continuous area from Eastern Arabia to the Maghrab al-Aksa (western Mauritania), from Chaldaea in the North to southern Zanzibar, it numbers of potential vocabulary 1,200,000 words all of which may be, if they are not, used, and while they specify the finest shades of meaning, not a few of them, technically termed “Zidd,” bear significations diametrically opposite, e.g., “Maula” = lord, slave; and “’Ajuz” with 88 different meanings. Its literature, poetic, semi-poetic and prosaic, falls into three greater sections:—Ancient (The Suspendeds, the Kitab al-Aghani and the Koran), Mediaeval (Al-Mutanabbi, Al-Asm’ai, Abu Nowas and the poets of the Harunic cycle) and Moderns, of whom not the least important (e.g. Yusuf al-Yazaji) are those of our own day. Throughout its vast domain there are local differences of terminology which render every dialect a study; and of these many are intimately connected with older families, as the Egyptian with Coptic and the Moorish with Berber. The purest speakers are still the Badawin who are often not understood
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 Afghanistan; and the departmental glossaries such as the many dealing with “Tasawwuf”—the Moslem form of Gnosticism. The excellent lexicon of the late Professor Dozy, Supplement aux Dictionnaires Arabes, par R. Dozy, Leyde: E. J. Brill, 1881, was a step in advance, but we still lack additions like Baron Adolph Von Kremer’s Beitrage zur Arabischen Lexicographie (In commission bei Carl Gerold’s Sohn, Wien, 1884). The French, as might be expected, began early, e.g. M. Ruphy’s Dictionnaire abrege francais-arabe, Paris, Imprimerie de la Republique, 1810; they have done good work in Algiers and are now carrying it on in Tunis. Of these we have Marcel, Vocabulaire, etc. (Paris, 1837), Bled de Braine (Paris, 1846), who to his Cours Synthetique adds a study of Maroccan and Egyptian, Professor Cherbonneau (Paris, 1854), Precis Historique, and Dialogues, etc. (Alger, 1858); M. Gasselin (Paris, 1866), Dictionnaire francais-arabe, M. Brassier (Algiers, 1871), Dictionnaire pratique, also containing Algerine and Tunisian terms;
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 Iliyat or wandering pastoral tribes and master a host of cognate tongues whose chiefs are Armenian (Old and New), Caucasian, a modern Babel, Kurdish, Luri (Bakhtiyari),
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 —Abu Bakr al-Razi (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 Karachi (1849), I imported a Shaykh from Maskat. Then work began in downright earnest. Besides Erpenius’ (D’Erp) “Grammatica Arabica,” Richardson, De Sacy and Forbes, I read at least a dozen Perso-Arabic works (mostly of pamphlet form) on “Serf Wa Nahw”—Accidence and Syntax—and learned by heart one-fourth of the Koran. A succession of journeys and long visits at various times to Egypt, a Pilgrimage to the Moslem Holy Land and an exploration of the Arabic-speaking Somali-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
Orientalists, however, are like poets and musicians, a rageous race. A passing allusion to a Swedish student styled by others (Mekkanische Sprichworter, etc., p.1) “Dr. Landberg,” and by himself “Doctor Count Carlo Landberg” procured me the surprise of the following communication. I quote it in full because it is the only uncourteous attempt at correspondence upon the subject of The Nights which has hitherto been forced upon me.
In his introduction (p. xx.) to the Syrian Proverbes et Dictons Doctor Count Landberg was pleased to criticise, with less than his usual knowledge, my study entitled “Proverbia Communia Syriaca” (Unexplored Syria, i. 264-269). These 187 “dictes” were taken mainly from a Ms. collection by one Hanna 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’interprete fidele 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 aegis of a portentous coronet and initials blazing with or, yules and azure.
Paris, le 24 Fevr., 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 cites que je ne suds pas “Arabist.” Ce n’est pas votre jugement qui m’impressionne, car vous n’etes nullement a meme de me juger. Votre article contient, comme tout ce que vous avez ecrit dans le domaine de la langue arabe, des bevues. C’est vous qui n’etes pas arabisant: cela est bien connu et reconnu, et nous ne nous donnons pas meme la peine de relever toutes les innombrables erreurs don’t vos publications fourmillent. Quant a “Sahifah” vous etes encore en erreur. Mon etymologie est acceptee par tout le monde et je vous renvoie a Fleischer, Kleinre Schriften, p. 468, Leipzig, 1885, ou vous trouverez [’instruction necessaire. Le dilettantism qui se trahit dans tout ce que vous ecrivez vous fait faire de telles erreurs. Nous autres arabisants et professo (?) nous ne vous avons jamais et nous ne vous pouvons jamais considerer comme arabisant. Voila ma reponse a votre note.
Agreez, Monsieur,
l’expression de mes sentiments distingues,
Comte Lasdberg,
Dr.-es-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 aetas. 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 neighboring countries, Abyssinia, the Cape and the African Coasts Eastern and Western; thus he would write in a kind of reflected light without acknowledging his obligation to my volumes. Another would review my book after the easy American fashion of hashing up the author’s production, taking all its facts from me with out disclosing that one fact to the reader and then proceed to “butter” or “slash.”
“Non est sanctior
quod laudaris:
Non est vilior si vituperaris.”
“No one, now-a-days, cares for reviews,” wrote Darwin as far back as 1849; and it is easy to see the whys and the wherefores. I have already touched upon the duty of reviewing the reviewer when the latter’s work calls for the process, despite the pretensions of modern criticism that it must not be criticised. Although to buffet an anonym is to beat the air, still the very effort does good. A well-known and popular novelist of the present day was a favourite butt for certain journalists who, with the normal half-knowledge of men—
“That read too little, and that write too much”—
persistently fell foul of the points in which the author was almost always right and the reviewer was wrong. “An eagle hawketh not at flies;” the object of ill-natured satire despised—
“The creatures of the stall and stye,”
and persisted in contemptuous reticence, giving consent by silence to what was easily refuted, and suffering a fond and foolish sentence to misguide the public which it pretends to direct. “Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment,” is a wise saying when silently practiced; it leads, however, to suffering in public esteem. The case in question was wholly changed when, at my suggestion, the writer was persuaded to catch a few of the culprits and to administer the dressing and redressing they so richly deserved.
And now to my tale.
Mr. Henry Reeve, Editor of the Edinburgh Review, wrote to me shortly before my first volume was issued to subscribers (September,’85) asking for advance sheets, as his magazine proposed to produce a general notice of The Arabian Nights Entertainments. But I suspected the man whose indiscretion and recklessness had been so unpleasantly paraded in the shape of the Greville (Mr. Worldly Wiseman’s) Memoirs, and I had not forgotten the untruthful and malignant articles of perfervid brutality which during the hot youth and calm middle age of the Edinburgh had disgraced the profession of letters. My answer, which was temporising and diplomatic, induced only a second and a more urgent application. Bearing in mind that professional etiquette hardly justifies publicly reviewing a book intended only for private reading and vividly remembering the evil of the periodical, I replied that the sheets
For the clique had appropriated all right and claim to a monopoly of The Arabian Nights Entertainments which they held in hand as a rotten borough. The “Uncle and Master,” Mr. Edward William Lane, eponymous hero of the house, had retranslated certain choice specimens of the Recueil and the “nephews of their uncle” resolved to make a private gold-mine thereof. The book came out in monthly parts at half-a-crown (1839-41) and when offered for sale in 3 vols. royal 8 vo, the edition of 5,000 hung fire at first until the high price (3 pounds 3s.) was reduced to 27 shillings for the trade. The sale then went off briskly and amply repaid the author and the publishers—Charles Knight and Co. And although here and there some “old Tory” grumbled that new-fangled words (as Wezeer, Kadee and Jinnee) had taken the places of his childhood’s pets, the Vizier, the Cadi, and the Genie, none complained of the workmanship for the all-sufficient reason that naught better was then known or could be wanted. Its succes de salon was greatly indebted to the “many hundred engravings on wood, from original designs by William Harvey”, with a host of quaint and curious Arabesques, Cufic inscriptions, vignettes, head pieces and culs- de-lampes. These, with the exception of sundry minor accessories, [FN#447] were excellent and showed for the first time the realistic East and not the absurdities drawn from the depths of artistical ignorance and self-consciousness—those of Smirke, Deveria, Chasselot and Co., not to speak of the horrors of the De Sacy edition, whose plates have apparently been used by Prof. Weil and by the Italian versions. And so the three bulky and handsome volumes found a ready way into many a drawing room during the Forties, when the public was uncritical enough to hail the appearance of these scattered chapters and to hold that at last they had the real thing, pure and unadulterated. No less than three reprints of the “Standard Edition,” 1859 (the last being in ’83), succeeded one another and the issue was finally stopped, not by the author’s death (aetat 75; London, August 10, 1876: net. Hereford, September 17, 1801), nor by the plates, which are now the property of Messieurs Chatto and Windus, becoming too worn for use, but simply by deficient demand. And the clique, represented by the late
At length the three volumes fell out of date, and the work was formally pronounced unreadable. Goethe followed from afar by Emerson, had foreseen the “inevitable increase of Oriental influence upon the Occident,” and the eagerness with which the men of the West would apply themselves to the languages and literature of the East. Such garbled and mutilated, unsexed and unsoured versions and perversions like Lane’s were felt to be survivals of the unfittest. Mr. John Payne (for whom see my Foreword, vol. i. pp. xi.-xii.) resolved to give the world the first honest and complete version of the Thousand Nights and a Night. He put forth samples of his work in the New Quarterly Magazine (January- April, 1879), whereupon he was incontinently assaulted by Mr. Reginald Stuart Poole, the then front of the monopolists, who after drawing up a list of fifteen errata (which were not errata) in two Nights, declared that “they must be multiplied five hundred-fold to give the sum we may expect.” (The Academy, April 26, 1879; November 29, 1881; and December 7, 1881.) The critic had the courage, or rather impudence, to fall foul of Mr. Payne’s mode and mannerism, which had long become deservedly famous, and concludes: —“The question of English style may for the present be dropped, as, if a translator cannot translate, it little matters in what form his results appear. But it may lie questioned whether an Arab edifice should be decorated with old English wall-papers.”
Evidently I had scant reason to expect mercy from the clique: I wanted none and I received none.
My reply to the arch-impostor, who
Spreads the light wings of saffron and of blue,
will perforce be somewhat detailed: it is necessary to answer paragraph by paragraph, and the greater part of the thirty-three pages refers more or less directly to myself. To begin with the beginning, it caused me and many others some surprise to see the “Thousand Nights and a Night” expelled the initial list of thirteen items, as if it were held unfit for mention. Cet article est principalement une diatribe contre l’ouorage de Sir Richard Burton et dans le libre cet ouvrage n’est meme
“The first English edition was published (pace Lowndes) within eight years of Galland’s” (p. 170) states a mere error. The second part of Galland (6 vols. 12 mo) was not issued till 1717, or two years after the translator’s death. Of the English editio princeps the critic tells nothing, nor indeed has anyone as yet been able to tell us aught. Of the dishonouring assertion (again let us hope made in simple ignorance) concerning “Cazotte’s barefaced forgery” (p. 170), thus slandering the memory of Jacques Cazotte, one of the most upright
We now come to the glorification of the “Uncle and Master,” concerning whom I can only say that Lane’s bitterest enemy (if the amiable Orientalist ever had any unfriend) could not have done him more discredit than this foolish friend. “His classical(!) translation was at once recognised as an altogether new departure” (p. 171), and “it was written in such a manner that the Oriental tone of The Nights should be reflected in the English” (ibid.). “It aims at reproducing in some degree the literary flavour of the original” (p 173). “The style of Lane’s translation is an old-fashioned somewhat Biblical language” (p. 173) and “it is precisely this antiquated ring” (of the imperfect and mutilated “Boulak edition,” unwisely preferred by the translator) “that Lane has succeeded in preserving” “The measured and finished language Lane chose for his version is eminently fitted to represent the rhythmical tongue of the Arab” (Memoir, p. xxvii.). “The translation itself is distinguished by its singular accuracy and by the marvellous way in which the Oriental tone and colour are retained " (ibid.). The writer has taken scant trouble to read me when he asserts that the Bulak edit was my text, and I may refer him, for his own advantage, to my Foreword (vol. i. p. xvii.), which he has wilfully ignored by stating unfact. I hasten to plead guilty before the charge of “really misunderstanding the design of Lane’s style” (p. 173). Much must be pardoned to the panegyrist, the encomiast; but the idea of mentioning in the same sentence with Biblical English, the noblest and most perfect specimen of our prose, the stiff and bald, the vapid and turgid manner of the Orientalist who “commences” and “concludes”—never begins and ends, who never uses a short word if he can find a long word, who systematically rejects terse and idiomatic Anglo-Saxon when a Latinism is to be employed and whose pompous stilted periods are the very triumph of the “Deadly-lively”! By arts precisely similar the learned George Sale made the Koran, that pure and unstudied inspiration of Arabian eloquence, dull as a law document, and left the field clear for the Rev. Mr. Rodwell. I attempted to excuse the style-laches of Lane by noticing the
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’uman (occupying 371 pages in my vols. ii. and iii.); Abu Hasan and his slave-girl Tawaddud (pp. 56, vol. v. 189-245), the Queen of the Serpents with the episodes of Bulukiya and of Janshah (pp.98, vol. v. 298-396); The Rogueries of Dalilah the Crafty and the Adventures of Mercury Ali (pp. 55, vol. vii. 144-209). The Tale of Harun al-Rashid and Abu Hasan of Oman (pp. 19, vol. ix. 188-207) is certainly not omitted by dictations of delicacy, nor is it true of the parts omitted in general that “none could be purified without being destroyed.” As my French friend remarks, “Few parts are so plain-spoken as the introduction, le cadre de l’ouvrage, yet M. Lane was not deterred by such situation.” And lastly we have, amongst the uncalledfor excisions, King Jali’ad of Hind, etc. (pp. 102, vol. ix. 32-134). The sum represents a grand total of 701 pages, while not a few of the notes are filled with unimportant fabliaux and apologues.
But the critic has been grandly deceptive, either designedly or of ignorance prepense in his arithmetic. “There are over four hundred of these (anecdotes, fables, and stories) in the complete text, and Lane has not translated more than two hundred” (p. 172). * * * “Adding the omitted anecdotes to the omitted tales, it appears that Lane left out about a third of the whore ‘Nights,’ and of that third at least three-fourths was incompatible with a popular edition. When Mr. Payne and Captain Burton boast of presenting the public ’with three times as much matter as any other version,’ they perhaps mean a third as much again” (p. 173). * * * “Captain Burton records his opinion that Lane has ‘omitted half and by far the more characteristic
What a mass of false statement!
Let us now exchange fiction for fact. Lane’s three volumes contain a total, deducting 15 for index, of pp. 1995 (viz. 618 + 643 + 734); while each (full) page of text averages 38 lines and of notes (in smaller type) 48. The text with a number of illustrations represents a total of pp. 1485 (viz. 441 + 449 + 595). Mr. Payne’s nine volumes contain a sum of pp. 3057, mostly without breaks, to the 1485 of the “Standard edition.” In my version the sum of pages, each numbering 41 lines, is 3156, or 1163 more than Lane’s total and 2671 more than his text.
Again, in Lane’s text the tales number 62 (viz. 35 + 14 + 13), and as has been stated, all the longest have been omitted, save only Sindbad the Seaman. The anecdotes in the notes amount to 44 1/2 (viz. 3 1/2 + 35 + 6): these are for the most pert the merest outlines and include the 3 1/2 of volume i. viz. the Tale of Ibrahim al-Mausili (pp. 223-24), the Tale of Caliph Mu’awiyah (i. pp. 521-22), the Tale of Mukharik 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 “Kitab al-Unwan fi Makaid al-Niswan,” showing that at the early stage of his labours the translator, who published in parts, had not read the book on which he was working; or, at least, had not learned that all the three and a half had been borrowed from The Nights. Thus the grand total is represented by 106 1/2 tales, and the reader will note the difference between 106 1/2 and the diligent and accurate reviewer’s “not much more than two hundred.” In my version the primary tales amount to 171; the secondaries, &c., to 96 and the total to 267, while Mr. Payne has 266.[FN#449] And these the critic swells to “over four hundred!” Thus I have more than double the number of pages in Lane’s text (allowing the difference between his 38 lines to an oft-broken page and my 41) and nearly two and a half tales to his one, and therefore I do not mean “a third as much again.”
Thus, too, we can deal with the dishonest assertions concerning Lane’s translation “not being absolutely complete” (p. 171) and that “nobody desired to see the objectionable passages which constituted the bulk of Lane’s omissions restored to their place in the text” (p. 175).
The critic now passes to The Uncle’s competence for the task, which he grossly exaggerates. Mr. Lane had no “intimate acquaintance with Mahommedan life” (p. 174). His “Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians” should have been entitled “Modern Cairenes;” he had seen nothing of Nile-land save what was shown to him by a trip to Philae in his first visit (1825-28) and another to Thebes during his second, he was profoundly ignorant of Egypt as a whole, and even in Cairo he knew nothing of woman-life and child-life—two thirds of humanity. I doubt if he could have understood the simplest expression in baby language; not to mention the many idioms peculiar to the Harem nursery. The characteristic of his work is geniality combined with a true affection for his subject, but no scholar can ignore its painful superficiality. His studies of legal theology gave him much weight with the Olema, although, at the time when he translated The Nights, his knowledge of Arabic was small. Hence the number of lapses which disfigures his pages. These would have been excusable in an Orientalist working out of Egypt, but Lane had a Shaykh ever at his elbow and he was always able to command the assistance of the University Mosque, Al-Azhar. I need not enter upon the invidious task of cataloguing these errors, especially as the most glaring have been cursorily noticed in my volumes. Mr. Lane after leaving Egypt became one of the best Arabic scholars of his day, but his fortune did not equal his deserts. The Lexicon is a fine work although sadly deficient in the critical sense, but after the labour of thirty-four years (it began printing in 1863) it reached only the 19th letter Ghayn (p. 2386). Then invidious Fate threw it into the hands of Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole. With characteristic audacity he disdained to seek the services of some German Professor, an order of men which, rarely dining out and caring little for “Society,” can devote itself entirely to letters, perhaps he hearkened to the silly charge against the Teuton of minuteness and futility of research as opposed to “good old English breadth and suggestiveness of treatment.” And the consequence has been a “continuation” which serves as a standard whereby to measure the excellence of the original work and the woful falling- off and deficiencies of the sequel— the latter retaining of the former naught save the covers. [FN#450]
Of Mr. Lane’s Notes I have ever spoken highly: they are excellent and marvellously misplaced—non erat his locus. The text of a story-book is too frail to bear so ponderous a burden of classical Arabian lore, and the annotations injure the symmetry of the book as a work of art. They begin with excessive prolixity: in the Introduction these studies fill 27 closely printed pages to 14 of a text broken by cuts and vignettes. In chaps. i. the proportion is pp. 20, notes: 15 text, and in chaps. ii. it is pp. 20: 35. Then they become under the publisher’s protest, beautifully less; and in
But the just complaint against Lane’s work is its sin of omission. The partial Reviewer declares (pp. 174 75) that the Arabist “retranslated The Nights in a practical spirit, omitting what was objectionable, together with a few tales(!) that were, on the whole, uninteresting or tautological, and enriching the work with a multitude of valuable notes. We had now a scholarly version of the greater part of The Nights imbued with the spirit of the East and rich in illustrative comment; and for forty years no one thought of anything more, although Galland still kept his hold on the nursery.” Despite this spurious apology, the critic is compelled cautiously to confess (p. 172), “We are not sure that some of these omissions were not mistaken;” and he instances “Abdallah the Son of Fazil” and “Abu’l-Hasan of Khorasan” (he means, I suppose, Abu Hasan al-Ziyadi and the Khorasani Man, iv. 285), whilst he suggests, “a careful abridgment of the tale of Omar the Son of No’man” (ii. 7,, etc.). Let me add that wittiest and most rollicking of Rabelaisian skits, “All the Persian and the Kurd Sharper” (iv. 149), struck-out in the very wantonness of “respectability;” and the classical series, an Arabian “Pilpay,” entitled “King Jali’ad 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 facetiae’” (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
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
“A careful (again!) examination of Captain Burton’s translation shows that he has not, as he pretends(!), corrected it to agree with the Calcutta text, but has made a hotch-potch of various texts, choosing one or another—Cairo, Breslau, Macnaghten or first Calcutta—according as it presented most of the ‘characteristic’ detail (note the dig in the side vicious), in which Captain Burton’s version is peculiarly strong” (p. 180). So in return for the severe labour of collating the four printed texts and of supplying the palpable omissions, which by turns disfigure each and every of the quartette, thus producing a complete copy of the Recueil, I gain nothing but blame. My French friend writes to me: Lorsqu’il s’agit d’etablir un texte d’apres differents manuscrits, il est certain qu’il faut prendre pour base une-seule redaction. Mais il n’est pas de meme d’une traduction. Il est conforme aux regles de la saine critique litteraire, de suivre tous les textes. Lane, I repeat, contented himself with the imperfect Bulak text while Payne and I preferred the Macnaghten Edition which, says the Reviewer, with a futile falsehood all his own, is “really only a revised form of the Cairo text” [FN#452] (ibid.). He concludes, making me his rival in ignorance, that I am unacquainted with the history of the Ms. from which the four- volume Calcutta Edition was printed (ibid.). I should indeed be thankful to him if he could inform me of its ultimate fate: it has been traced by me to the Messieurs Allen and I have vainly consulted Mr. Johnston who carries on the business under the name of that now defunct house. The Ms. has clean disappeared.
“On the other hand he (Captain Burton) sometimes omits passages which he considers(!) tautological and thereby deprives his version of the merit of completeness (e.g. vol. v. p. 327). It is needless to remark that this uncertainty about the text destroys the scholarly value of the translation” (p. 180). The scribe characteristically forgets to add that I have invariably noted these excised passages which are always the merest repetitions, damnable iterations of a twice-, and sometimes a thrice-told tale, and that I so act upon the great principle—in translating a work of imagination and “inducing” an Oriental tale, the writer’s first duty to his readers is making his pages 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 “Akhlak-i wa Sirati” (sing. of Siyar) by caractere et conducte, the latter consisting of deeds and speech. He objects to “Kabir” (lit.=old) being turned into very old; yet this would be its true sense were the Rawi 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 Rawi? Again I render “Mal’unah” (not the mangled Mal’ouna) lit. = accurst, as “damned whore,” which I am justified in doing when the version is of the category Call-a-spade-a-spade.
“Captain Burton’s Arabian Nights, however, has another defect besides this textual inaccuracy” (p. 180); and this leads to a whole page of abusive rhetoric anent my vocabulary: the Reviewer has collected some thirty specimens—he might have collected three hundred from the five volumes—and he concludes that the list places Captain Burton’s version “quite out of the category of English books” (p. 181) and “extremely annoying to any reader with a feeling for style.” Much he must know of modern literary taste which encourages the translator of an ancient work such as Mr. Gibb’s Aucassin and Nicolette (I quote but one in a dozen) to borrow the charm of antiquity by imitating the nervous and expressive language of the pre-Elizabethans and Shakespeareans. Let him compare any single page of Mr. Payne with Messieurs Torrens and Lane and he will find that the difference saute aux yeux. But a purist who objects so forcibly to archaism and archaicism should avoid such terms as “whilom Persian Secretary” (p. 170); as anthophobia, which he is compelled to explain by “dread of selecting only what is best” (p. 175), as anthophobist (p. 176); as “fatuous ejaculations” (p. 183), as a “raconteur” (p. 186), and as “intermedium” (p. 194) terms which are certainly not understood by the general. And here we have a list of six in thirty-three pages:—evidently this Reviewer did not expect to be reviewed.
“Here is a specimen of his (Captain Burton’s) verse, in which, by the way, there is seen another example of the careless manner in which the proofs have been corrected” (p. 181). Generous and just to a work printed from abroad and when absence prevented the author’s revision: false as unfair to boot! And what does the critic himself but show two several misprints in his 33 pages; “Mr. Payne, vol. ix. p. 274” (p. 168, for vol. i. 260), and “Jamshah” (p. 172, for Janshah). These faults may not excuse my default: however, I can summon to my defence the Saturday Review, that past-master in the art and mystery of carping criticism, which, noticing my first two volumes (Jan. 2, 1886), declares them “laudably free from misprints.”
“Captain Burton’s delight in straining the language beyond its capabilities(?) finds a wide field when he comes to those passages in the original which are written in rhyming prose” (p. 181). “Captain Burton of course could not neglect such an opportunity for display of linguistic flexibility on the model of ‘Peter Parley picked a peck of pickled peppers"’ (p. 182, where the Saj’a or prose rhyme is most ignorantly confounded with our peculiarly English alliteration). But this is wilfully to misstate the matter. Let me repeat my conviction (Terminal Essay, 144-145) that The Nights, in its present condition, was intended as a text or handbook for the Rawi 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 Rababah or one-stringed viol. The Reviewer declares that the original has many such passages; but why does he not tell the reader that almost the whole Koran, and indeed all classical Arab prose, is composed in such “jingle”? “Doubtfully pleasing in the Arabic,” it may “sound the reverse of melodious in our own tongue” (p. 282); yet no one finds fault with it in the older English authors (Terminal Essay, p. 220), and all praised the free use of it in Eastwick’s “Gulistan.” Torrens, Lane and Payne deliberately rejected it, each for his own and several reason; Torrens because he never dreamt of the application, Lane, because his scanty knowledge of English stood in his way; and Payne because he aimed at a severely classical style, which could only lose grace, vigour and harmony by such exotic decoration. In these matters every writer has an undoubted right to carry out his own view, remembering the while that it is impossible to please all tastes. I imitated the Saj’a, because I held it to be an essential part of the work and of my fifty reviewers none save the Edinburgh considered the reproduction of the original manner aught save a success. I care only to satisfy those whose judgment is satisfactory: “the abuse and contempt of ignorant writers hurts me very little,” as Darwin says (iii. 88), and we all hold with Don Quixote that, es mejor ser loado de los pocos sabios, que burlado de los muchos necios.
“This amusement (of reproducing the Saj’a) may be carried to any length (how?), and we do not see why Captain Burton neglects the metre of the poetry, or divides his translation into sentences by stops, or permits any break in the continuity of the narrative, since none such exists in the Arabic” (p. 182). My reply is that I neglect the original metres first and chiefly because I do not care to “caper in fetters,” as said Drummond of Hawthornden; and, secondly, because many of them are unfamiliar and consequently unpleasant to English ears. The exceptions are mostly two, the Rajaz (Anapaests and Iambs, Terminal Essay, x. 253), and the Tawil or long measure (ibid. pp. 242, 255), which Mr. Lyall (Translations of Ancient Arab. Poetry, p. xix.) compares with “Abt Vogler,”
And there! ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head.
This metre greatly outnumbers all others in The Nights; but its lilting measure by no means suits every theme, and in English it is apt to wax monotonous.
“The following example of a literal rendering which Mr. Payne adduces (vol. ix. 381: camp. my vol. v. 66) in order to show the difficulty of turning the phraseology of the original into good English, should have served Captain Burton as a model, and we are surprised he has not adopted so charmingly cumbrous a style” (p. 102). I shall quote the whole passage in question and shall show that by the most unimportant changes, omissions and transpositions, without losing a word, the whole becomes excellent English, and falls far behind the Reviewer’s style in the contention for “cumbrousness":—
“When morrowed the morning he bedabbled his feet with the water they twain had expressed from the herb and, going-down to the sea, went thereupon, walking days and nights, he wondering the while at the horrors of the ocean and the marvels and rarities thereof. And he ceased not faring over the face of the waters till he arrived at an island as indeed it were Paradise. So Bulukiya went up thereto and fell to wondering thereanent and at the beauties thereof; and he found it a great island whose dust was saffron and its gravel were carnelian and precious stones: its edges were gelsomine and the growth was the goodliest of the trees and the brightest of the scented herbs and the sweetest of them. Its rivulets were a-flowing; its brushwood was of the Comorin aloe and the Sumatran lign- aloes; its reeds were sugar-canes and round about it bloomed rose and narcissus and amaranth and gilliflower and chamomile and lily and violet, all therein being of several kinds and different tints. The birds warbled upon those trees and the whole island was fair of attributes and spacious of sides and abundant of good things, comprising in fine all of beauty and loveliness,” etc. (Payne, vol. ix. p. 381).
The Reviewer cites in his list, but evidently has not read, the “Tales from the Arabic,” etc., printed as a sequel to The Nights, or he would have known that Mr. Payne, for the second part of his work, deliberately adopted a style literal as that above-quoted because it was the liveliest copy of the 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’etre 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 mediaeval Arab telling the tales and traditions with the lays and legends of his own land in his own way, and showing the world what he has remained and how he has survived to this day, while we Westerns have progressed in culture and refinement. Above all things give us the naive and plain-spoken language of the original—such a contrast with the English of our times—and show us, by the side of these enfantillages, the accumulated wit and wisdom, life-knowledge and experience of an old-world race. We want also the technique of the Recueil, its division into nights, its monorhyme, in fact everything that gives it cachet and character.” Now I could satisfy the longing, which is legitimate enough, only by annotation, by a running commentary, as it were, enabling the student to read between the lines and to understand hints and innuendoes that would otherwise have passed by wholly unheeded. I determined that subscribers should find in my book what does not occur in any other, making it a repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric phase, by no means intended for the many-headed but solely for the few who are not too wise to learn or so ignorant as to ignore their own ignorance. I regretted to display the gross and bestial vices of the original, in the rare places where obscenity becomes rampant, but not the less I held it my duty to translate the text word for word, instead of garbling it and mangling it by perversion and castration. My rendering (I promised) would be something novel, wholly different from all other versions, and it would leave very little for any future interpreter.[FN#453]
And I resolved that, in case of the spiteful philanthropy and the rabid pornophobic suggestion of certain ornaments of the Home-Press being acted upon, to appear in Court with my version of The Nights in one hand and bearing in the other the Bible (especially the Old Testament, a free translation from an ancient Oriental work) and Shakespeare, with Petronius Arbiter and Rabelais by way of support and reserve. The two former
But I had another object while making the notes a Repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric form (Foreword, p. xvii.). Having failed to free the Anthropological Society from the fetters of mauvaise honte and the mock-modesty which compels travellers and ethnological students to keep silence concerning one side of human nature (and that side the most interesting to mankind), I proposed to supply the want in these pages. The England of our day would fain bring up both sexes and keep all ages in profound ignorance of sexual and intersexual relations; and the consequences of that imbecility are peculiarly cruel and afflicting. How often do we hear women in Society lamenting that they have absolutely no knowledge of their own physiology; and at what heavy price must this fruit of the knowledge-tree be bought by the young first entering life. Shall we ever understand that ignorance is not innocence? What an absurdum is a veteran officer who has spent a quarter-century in the East without learning that all Moslem women are circumcised, and without a notion of how female circumcision is effected; without an idea of the difference between the Jewish and the Moslem rite as regards males; without an inkling of the Armenian process whereby the cutting is concealed, and without the slightest theoretical knowledge concerning the mental and spiritual effect of the operation. Where then is the shame of teaching what it is shameful not to have learnt? But the ultra-delicacy, the squeamishness of an age which is by no means purer or more virtuous than its ruder predecessors, has ended in trenching upon the ridiculous. Let us see what the modern English woman and her Anglo-American sister have become under the working of a mock-modesty which too often acts cloak to real devergondage; and how Respectability unmakes what Nature made. She has feet but no “toes”; ankles but no “calves”; knees but no “thighs”; a stomach but no “belly” nor “bowels”; a heart but no “bladder” nor “groin”; a liver end no “kidneys”; hips and no “haunches”; a bust and no “backside” nor “buttocks”: in fact, she is a monstrum, a figure fit only to frighten the crows.
But the Edinburgh knows nothing of these things, and the “decent gentleman,” like the lady who doth protest overmuch, persistently fixes his eye upon a single side of the shield.” Probably no European has ever gathered such an appalling collection of degrading customs and statistics of vice as is contained in Captain Burton’s translation of the ‘Arabian Nights’ (p. 185). He finds in the case of Mr. Payne, like myself, “no adequate justification for flooding the world (!) with an ocean of filth” (ibid.) showing that he also can be (as said the past-master of catch-words, the primus verborum artifex) “an interested rhetorician inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity.” But audi alteram partem—my view of the question. I have no apology to make for the details offered to the students of Moslem usages and customs, who will find in them much to learn and more to suggest the necessity of learning. On no wise ashamed am I of lecturing upon these esoteric matters, the most important to humanity, at a time when their absence from the novel of modern society veils with a double gloom the night-side of human nature. Nay, I take pride to myself for so doing in the face of silly prejudice and miserable hypocrisy, and I venture to hold myself in the light of a public benefactor. In fact, I consider my labours as a legacy bequeathed to my countrymen at a most critical time when England the puissantest of Moslem powers is called upon, without adequate knowledge of the Moslem’s inner life, to administer Egypt as well as to rule India. And while Pharisee and Philister may be or may pretend to be “shocked” and “horrified” by my pages, the sound common sense of a public, which is slowly but surely emancipating itself from the prudish and prurient reticences and the immodest and immoral modesties of the early xixth century, will in good time do me, I am convinced, full and ample justice.
In p. 184 the Reviewer sneers at me for writing “Roum” in lieu of Rum or Rum; 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 nist”—to speak of blasphemy is not blasphemous. Curious readers will consult the article “Woman” in my Terminal Essay (x. 167), which alone refutes this silly scandal. I never pretended to understand woman, and, as Balzac says, no wonder man fails when He who created her was by no means successful. But in The Nights we meet principally Egyptian maids, matrons and widows, of whose “devilry” I cannot speak too highly, and in this matter even the pudibund Lane is as free-spoken as myself. Like the natives of warm, damp and malarious lowlands and river-valleys adjacent to rugged and healthy uplands, such as Mazanderan, 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 Bibliotheque 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 Palaeographical Society (p. 184); but I nowhere find the proofs that the Naskhi character (vol. i. 128) so long preceded the Cufic which, amongst vulgar Moslems, is looked upon like black letter in Europe. But Semitic epigraphy is only now entering upon its second stage of study, the first being mere tentative ignorance: about 80 years ago the illustrious De Sacy proved, in a learned memoir, the non-existence of letters in Arabia before the days of Mohammed. But Palmer[FN#454], Halevy, Robertson Smith, Doughty and Euting have changed all that, and Herr Eduard Glaser of Prague is now bringing back from Sana’a some 390 Sabaean epigraphs—a mass of new-old literature.
And now, having passed in review, and having been much scandalised by the “extravagant claims of the complete translations over the Standard Version”—a term which properly applies only to the Editio princeps, 3 vols. 8vo—the Edinburgh delivers a parting and insolent sting. “The different versions, however, have each its proper destination—Galland for the nursery, Lane for the library, Payne for the study, and Burton for the sewers” (p. 184). I need hardly attempt to precise the ultimate and well merited office of his article: the gall in that ink may enable it hygienically to excel for certain purposes the best of “curl-papers.” Then our critic passes to the history of the work concerning which nothing need be said: it is bodily borrowed from Lane’s Preface (pp. ix. xv.), and his Terminal Review (iii. 735-47) with a few unimportant and uninteresting details taken from Al-Makrizi, 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 College de France, presented the world with the contents of an Arab Manuscript which he had brought from Syria and which bore the title of ’The Thousand Nights and One Night’” (p. 167), thus ignoring the famous Il a fallu le faire venir de Syrie. At that time (1704) Galland was still at Caen in the employ of “L’intendant Fouquet”; and he brought with him no Ms., as he himself expressly assures us in Preface to his first volume. Here are two telling mistakes in one page, and in the next (p. 168) we find “As a professed translation Galland’s ‘Mille et une Nuits’ (N.B. the Frenchman always wrote Mille et une Nuit)[FN#455] is an audacious fraud. “It requires something more than” audacity “to offer such misstatement even in the pages of the Edinburgh, and can anything be falser than to declare “the whole of the last fourteen tales have nothing whatever to do with the ‘Nights’”?
These bevues, which give us the fairest measure for the Reviewer’s competence to review, are followed (p. 189) by a series of obsolete assertions. “The highest authority on this point (the date) is the late Mr. Lane, who states his unqualified conviction that the tales represent the social life of mediaerval Egypt, and he selects a period approaching the close of the fifteenth century as the probable date of collection, though some of the tales are, he believes, rather later” (p. 189). Mr. Lane’s studies upon the subject were painfully perfunctory. He distinctly states (Preface, p. xii.) that “the work was commenced and completed by one man,”
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 Gharib and his brother ’Ajib (vol. vi. 257) and that of Omar ibn Al-Nu’uman, “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 qua non (see my Suppl. vol. v. 302). He preserves the pretentious blunder “The Khalif” (p. 193), a word which does not exist in Arabic. He translates (p. 181), although I have taught him to do better, “Hadimu ’I-Lizzati wa Mufarriku ’l-Jama’at,” by “Terminator of Delights and Separator of Companies” instead of Destroyer of delights and Severer of societies. And lastly he pads the end of his article (pp. 196-199) with five dreary extracts from Lane (i. 372-73) who can be dull even when translating the Immortal Barber.
The first quotation is so far changed that the peppering of commas (three to the initial line of the original) disappears to the reader’s gain, Lane’s textual date (App. 263) is also exchanged for that of the notes (A.H. 653); and the “aera of Alexander,” A.M. 7320, an absurdity which has its value in proving the worthlessness of such chronology, is clean omitted, because Lane used the worthless Bull Edit. The latinisms due to Lane show here in force—“Looked for a considerable time” (Maliyyan = for a long while); “there is an announcement that presenteth itself to me” (a matter which hath come to my knowledge) and “thou hast dissipated[FN#458] my mind” (Azhakta ruhi = thou scatterest my wits, in the Calc. Edit. Saghgharta ruhi = thou belittles” my mind). But even Lane never wrote “I only required thee to shave my head”—the adverb thus qualifying, as the ignoramus loves to do, the wrong verb—for “I required thee only to shave my head.” In the second echantillon we have “a piece of gold” as equivalent of a quarter-diner and “for God’s sake” which certainly does not preserve local colour. In No. 3 we find “‘May God,’ said I,” etc.; “There is no deity but God! Mohammed is God’s apostle!” Here Allah ought invariably to be used, e.g. “Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah,” unless the English name of the Deity be absolutely required as in “There is no god but the God.” The Moslem’s “Wa’llahi” must not be rendered “By God,” a verbal translation and an absolute nonequivalent; the terms Jehovah, Allah and God and the use of them involving manifold fine distinctions. If it be true that God made man, man in his turn made and mismade God who thus becomes a Son of Man and a mere racial type. I need not trouble my reader with further notices of these extracts whose sole use is to show the phenomenal dullness of Lane’s latinised style: I prefer even Torrens (p. 273).
“We have spoken severely with regard to the last” (my version), says the Reviewer (p.185), and verily I thank him therefor. Laudari ab illaudato has never been my ambition. A writer so learned and so disinterested could hurt my feelings and mortify my pride only by approving me and praising me. Nor have I any desire to be exalted in the pages of the Edinburgh, so famous for its incartades of old. As Dryden says, “He has done me all the honour that any man can receive from him, which is to be railed at by him.” I am content to share the vituperation of this veteran—incapable in company with the poetaster George Gordon who suffered for “this Lord’s station;” with that “burnish fly in the pride of May,” Macaulay, and with the great trio, Darwin, Huxley and Hooker, who also have been the butts of his bitter and malignant abuse (April ’63 and April ’73). And lastly I have no stomach for sweet words from the present Editor of the Edinburgh Mr. Henry Reeve, a cross and cross-grained old man whose surly temper is equalled only by his ignoble jealousy of another’s success. Let them bedevil the thin-skinned with their godless ribaldry; for myself peu m’importe—my shoulders are broad enough to bear all their envy, hatred and malice.
During the three years which have elapsed since I first began printing my book I have not had often to complain of mere gratuitous impertinence, and a single exception deserves some notice. The following lines which I addressed to The Academy (August 11, ’88) will suffice to lay my case before my readers:—
The Bestial Element in Man.
“One hesitates to dissent from so great an authority as Sir Richard Burton on all that relates to the bestial element in man.” So writes (p. xii., Introduction to the Fables of Pilpay), with uncalled-for impertinence, Mr. Joseph Jacobs, who goes out of his way to be offensive, and who confesses to having derived all his knowledge of my views not from “the notorious Terminal Essay of the Nights,” but from the excellent article by Mr. Thomas Davidson on “Beast-fables,” in Chambers’s Cyclopaedia, 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 Muller (pp. xxvi. and xxxiii.), Mr. Clouston (pp. xxxiii. and xxxv.), Byron (p. xlvi.), Theodor Benfey (p. xlvii.), Mr. W. G. Rutherford (p. xlviii.), and Bishop Lightfoot (p. xlix.). All this eminent half-dozen is glanced at, with distinct and several sneers, in a little volume which, rendered useless by lack of notes and index, must advertise itself by the reclame of abuse.
As regards the reminiscence of Homo Darwinienesis by Homo Sapiens, doubtless it would ex hypothesi be common to mankind. Yet to me Africa is the old home of the Beast-fable, because Egypt was the inventor of the alphabet, the cradle of letters, the preacher of animism and metempsychosis, and, generally, the source of all human civilisation.
Richard F. Burton
And now I must proceed a trifle further a-field and meet
The Critic in Anglo-America.
The Boston Daily Advertiser (Jan. 26,’86) contains the following choice morceau which went the round of the Transatlantic Press:—
G. W. S. writes from London to the New York Tribune in regard to Captain Burton’s notorious translation of the “Arabian Nights.” Of Captain Burton’s translation of “The Arabian Nights,” two volumes have now appeared. Before anything had been seen of them, I gave some account of this scheme, and of the material on which he had worked, with a statement of the reasons which made all existing versions unsatisfactory to the student, and incomplete. Captain Burton saw fit to reprint these desultory paragraphs as a kind of circular or advertisement on his forthcoming book. He did not think it necessary to ask leave to do this, nor did I know to what use my letter had been put till it was too late to object. In any ordinary case it would have been of no consequence, but Captain Burton’s version is of such a character that I wish to state the facts, and to say that when I wrote my letter I had never seen a line of his translation, and had no idea that what I said of his plans would be used for the purpose it has been, or for any purpose except to be printed in your columns. As it is, I am made to seem to give some sort of approval to a book which I think offensive, and not only offensive, but grossly and needlessly offensive. If anybody has been induced to subscribe for it by what I wrote I regret it, and both to him and to myself I think this explanation 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
The authorities have discovered where Capt. Burton’s “Thousand and One Nights” is being printed, despite the author’s efforts to keep the place a secret, but are undecided whether to suppress it or to permit the publication of the coming volumes. Burton’s own footnotes are so voluminous that they exceed the letterpress of the text proper, and make up the bulk of the work.[FN#459] The foulness of the second volume of his translation places it at a much higher premium in the market than the first.
The Tribune of Chicago (October 26,’85) honours me by declaring “It has been resolved to request Captain Burton not to publish the rest of his translation of the ‘Thousand and One Nights,’ which is really foul and slipshod as to style.” The New York Times (October 17 and November 9, ’85) merely echoes the spite of its English confrere:—
Capt. Burton’s translation of the “Arabian Nights” bears the imprint “Benares.” Of course the work never saw Benares. America, France, Belgium and Germany have all been suggested as the place of printing, and now the Pall Mall Gazette affirms that the work was done “north of the Tweed.” There is, without doubt, on British soil, it says, “a press which year after year produces scores of obscene publications.”
And the same is the case with the St. Louis Post Dispatch (November 11, ’85) the Mail Express of New York (November 23,’85); the Weekly Post of Boston (November 27 ’85), which again revives a false report, and with the Boston Herald (December 16,’85). The Chicago Daily News (January 30, ’86) contains a malicious sneer at the Kamashastra Society. The American Register (Paris, July 25, ’86) informs its clientele, “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 Poe, is now the prime favourite in France, appears to be still under ban because he separated like Byron from his spouse, and he led a manner of so-called “Bohemian” life. Indeed the wide diffusion of letters in the States, that favourite theme for boasting and bragging over the unenlightened and analphabetic Old World, has tended only to exaggerate the defective and disagreeable side of a national character lacking geniality and bristling with prickly individuality. This disposition of mind, whose favourable and laudable presentations are love of liberty and self-reliance, began with the beginnings of American history. The “Fathers,” Pilgrim and Puritan, who left their country for their country’s good and their own, fled from lay tyranny and clerkly oppression only to oppress and tyrannise over others in new and distant homes. Hardly had a century and a half elapsed before the sturdy colonists, who did not claim freedom but determined to keep it, formally revolted and fought their way to absolute independence—not, by the by, a feat whereof to be overproud when a whole country rose unanimously against a handful of troops. The movement, however, reacted powerfully upon the politics of Europe, which stood agape for change, and undoubtedly precipitated the great French Revolution. As soon as the States became an empire, their democratic and republican institutions at once attracted hosts of emigrants from the Old World, thus peopling the
The result of such selection has been two-fold. The first appears in a splendid self- esteem, a complacency, a confidence which passes all bounds of the golden mean. “I am engrossed in calmly contemplating the grandeur of my native country and her miraculous growth,” writes to me an old literary friend. The feeling normally breaks out in the grossest laudation of everything American. The ultra-provincial twang which we still hear amongst the servant-classes of Lancashire and Yorkshire, and which is so notable in the nouveau riche, modified by traditional nasalisation and, as in Australia, by climatic influences, is American and, therefore, the purest of English utterances. The obsolete vocabulary often obsolete in England without just reason—contrasting with a modern disfigured etymology which strips vocables of their genealogy and history, is American and ergo admirably progressive. The spurious facetiousness which deals mainly in mere jargon words ill-spelt and worse pronounced; in bizarre contrast of ideas, and in ultra-Rabelaisian exaggeration, is American wit and humour—therefore unsurpassable. The Newspaper Press, that great reflector of nationalities, that prime expression of popular taste, too often of an ecoeurant vulgarity, personal beyond all bounds of common decency, sensational as a transpontine drama, is American; America is the greatest nation upon earth’s face, ergo the daily sheet is setting-up the standard of English speech and forming the language of the Future, good and too good for all the world. This low standard of the Press is the more regretable as its exalted duty is at present to solve the highest problems social and industrial, such as co-operation in labour, the development of fisheries, direct taxation versus indirect and a host of enigmas which the young world, uncumbered by the burdens of the Old World, alone shall unravel.
The second result is still more prejudicial and perilous. This is the glorification of mediocrity, of the average man and woman whose low standard must be a norm to statesman and publicist. Such cult of the common and the ignoble is the more prejudicial because it “wars against all distinction and against the sense of elevation to be gained by respecting and admiring superiority.” Its characteristic predominance in a race which, true to its Anglo-Saxon origin, bases and builds the strongest opinions upon the weakest foundations, hinders the higher Avatars of genius and interferes with the “chief duty of a nation which is to produce great men.” It accounts for the ever-incroaching reign of women in literature—meaning as a rule cheap work and second-rate. And the main lack is not so much the “thrill of awe,” which 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 offense. Even a word in favour of my old friends the Mormons is an unpardonable offence: the dwarfish and dwarfing demon “Respectability” has made their barbarous treatment a burning shame to a so-called “free” country: they are subjected to slights and wrongs only for practicing polygamy, an institution never condemned by Christ or the early Christians. The calm and dispassionate judgments of Sir Lepel Griffith and the late Matthew Arnold, who ventured to state, in guarded language, that the boasted civilisation of the United States was not quite perfect, resulted in the former being called a snob and the latter a liar. English stolidity would
Some years ago I proposed to write a paper upon the reflex action of Anglo-America upon England using as a base the last edition of Mrs. Trollope, who was compelled to confess that almost every pecularity which she had abused in her first issue had become naturalised at home. Yankee cuteness has already displaced in a marvellous way old English rectitude and plain-dealing; gambling on the Stock Exchange, cornering, booms and trusts have invaded the trading-classes from merchant-princes to shopkeepers, and threaten, at their actual rate of progress, not to leave us an honest man. But now the student’s attention will be called to the great and ever-growing influence of the New World upon the Old, and notably upon Europe. Some 50,000 Americans annually visit the continent, they are rapidly becoming the most important item of the floating population, and in a few years they will number 500,000. Meanwhile they are revolutionising all the old institutions; they are abolishing the classical cicerone whose occupation is gone amongst a herd which wants only to see streets and people: they greatly increase the cost of traveling; they pay dollars in lieu of francs, and they are satisfied with inferior treatment at superior prices:—hence the American hotel abroad is carefully shunned by Englishmen and natives. At home the “well-to-do class” began by regarding their kinsmen d’outre mer with contemptuous dislike; then they looked upon them as a country squire would regard a junior branch which has emigrated and has thriven by emigration; and now they are welcomed in Society because they amuse and startle and stir up the duller depths. But however warm may be private friendship between Englishmen and Anglo-Americans there is no public sympathy nor is any to be expected from the present generation. “New England does not understand Old England and never will,” the reverse being equally the fact. “The Millennium must come,” says Darwin (ii. 387), “before nations love each other:” I add that first Homo alalus seu Pithecanthropus must become Homo Sapiens and cast off his moral slough—egoism and ignorance. Mr. Cleveland, in order to efface the foul stigma of being the “English President,” found it necessary to adopt the strongest measures in the matter of “Fisheries;” and the “Irish vote” must quadrennially be bought at the grave risk of national complications. Despite the much-bewritten “brotherhood of the two great English-speaking races of the world,”
But there are even now signs of better things in the Great Republic. Mr. James R. Lowell, an authority (if there be any) upon the subject of Democracy, after displaying its fine points and favourable aspects in his addresses to English audiences, has at length had the uncommon courage to discuss family affairs, and to teach Boston and New York what “weaknesses and perils there may be in the practical working of a system never before set in motion under such favourable circumstances, nor on so grand a scale.” He is emboldened to say firmly and aloud, despite the storming of false and hollow self-praise, that American civilisation, so strong on the material side, is sadly wanting on the other, and still lacks much to make it morally acceptable or satisfactory. And we have some truths concerning that Fool’s Paradise, the glorification of the “average man.” Every citizen of the world must wish full success to the “Independents” (in politics) who sit at the feet of so wise and patriotic a teacher.
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 aegis. 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
But, although these two men were deterred by probable consequences, a bolder spirit might make light of them. I had never intended to go beyond my original project, that is of printing one thousand copies and no more, nor did I believe that any cunning of disguise could make “The Nights” presentable in conventionally decent society. It was, however, represented to me by many whose opinions I valued that thus and thus only the author and his subscribers could be protected from impudent fraud, and finally an unwilling consent was the result.
Mr. Justin Huntley McCarthy, a name well known in the annals of contemporary literature, undertook the task of converting the grand old barbarian into a family man to be received by the “best circles.” His proofs, after due expurgation, were passed on to my wife, who I may say has never read the original, and she struck out all that appeared to her over-free, under the promise that no mother should hesitate in allowing the book to her daughters. It would, perhaps, surprise certain “modest gentlemen” and blatantly virtuous reviewers that the amount of raw material excised from the text and the notes chiefly addressed to anthropologists and Orientalists, amounts to only 215 pages out of a grand total numbering 3156.
Between 1886 and 1888 appeared the revision in six pretty volumes, bearing emblematic colours, virgin-white adorned with the golden lilies of St. Joseph and the “chaste crescent of the young moon.” The price also was reduced to the lowest (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 reacher of the Prakrit dialects at Cambridge, englished for me the eight Gallandian tales (Foreword, Supp. vol. iii.) from the various Hindostan versions. To Mr. William H. Chandler, of Pembroke College, Oxford, I have expressed (Supp. vol. iii.) the obligations due to a kind and generous friend: his experiments with photography will serve to reconcile the churlishness and retrograde legislation of the great Oxford Library with the manners and customs of more civilised peoples. Mr. W. A. Clouston, whose degree is high in “Storiology,” supplied my second and third Supplemental volumes with valuable analogues and variants. Mr. Alexander J. Cotheal, Consul-General for Nicaragua at New York, sent a valuable Ms. to me across the water, and was persuaded to translate, for my sixth Supplemental volume, a novel version of the “Tale of Attaf.” 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-Asnam (Supp. vol. iii.) and translations of three tales which he judged inexpedient to publish (Supp. vol. iv.). M. O. Houdas, Professeur d’ Arabe Vulgaire a l’ecole des langues Orientales vicantes, Paris, copied for me the Arabic text of Zayn al-Asnam and the whole Ms. used by mm. Chavis and Cazotte: he also obligingly assisted me in overcoming the various difficulties of a crabbed
I am also deeply indebted to Mrs. Victoria L. Maylor, of Trieste, who, during the past three years (1885-1888) had the energy and perseverance to copy for me sixteen bulky volumes written in a “running-hand,” concerning which the less said the better. And lastly, I must acknowledge peculiar obligations to my Shaykh, Dr. Steingass, Ph.D. This well-known Arabist not only assisted me in passing the whole work through the press he also added a valuable treatise on Arabic Prosody (x. 233-258) with indexes of various kinds, and finally he supervised the MSS. of the Supplemental volumes and enriched the last three, which were translated under peculiar difficulties in analphabetic lands, with the results of his wide reading and lexicographical experience.
And now, Alhamdolillah, the play is ended, and while the curtain drops, I take the final liberty of addressing my kindly and appreciative audience in the following words, borrowed from a Persian brother of the pen:—
Now hear my hope from
men of liberal mind,
Faults, that indulgence
crave, shall seek and find;
For whose blames and
of despite decries,
Is wight right witless,
clean reverse of wise.
To which let me add the following gentle reminder from Ibn Khaldun:—
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, 1888.
Opinions of the Press.
Morning Advertiser, September 15th, 1885.
As the holiday season draws to a close the publishers’ announcements of “new books” fill column after column of the organs chosen from these special communique’s. But there is one work which is not entered in these lists, though for years scholars, and many people who are not scholars, have been looking for it with an eagerness which has left far behind the ordinary curiosity which is bestowed on the greatest of contributions to current literasure. And to-day the chosen few who are in possession of the volume in question are examining it with an interest proportionate to the long toil which has been bestowed on its preparation. We refer to Captain Burton’s translation of The Arabian Nights Entertainments, now entitled The Book of The Thousand Nights and a Night, of which the first tome has just been issued. * * * * Captain Burton scorns any namby pambyism. In the Arabic a spade is usually called a spade, and in the latest English translation it is never designated an agricultural implement. Moreover the endless footnotes which the editor appends speak with much freedom of many things usually avoided as themes for conversation in polite society, though they throw a flood of light on hundreds of features of Oriental life on which, since travellers have been compelled to write for “refined” audiences the student has failed to be informed. * * * * *
Yet, admitting that The Nights are often coarse and indelicate, and sometimes even gross it is a mistake to suppose that they are demoralising in the same way that a French novel of the Zola type is, or might be. Indeed, what we would call its impropriety is only a reflection of the naive freedom with which talk is to this day carried on in the family circles of the East. They see no harm in what we should regard as indecency. So that when Captain Burton prefaces his unbowdlerised version with the Arab proverb, “To the pure in heart all things are pure,” he presents perhaps the best defence he could against the attack which it is quite possible may be made on him for devoting many years of his life to what he terms “a labour of love.” * * * Captain Burton, thirty-three years ago, went in the disguise of an Indian pilgrim to Mecca and Al-Medinah, and no one capable of giving the world the result of his experience has so minute, so exhaustive a knowledge of Arab and Oriental life generally. Hence the work now begun—only a limited number of students can ever see—is simply priceless to any one who concerns himself with such subjects, and may be regarded as marking an era in the annals of Oriental translation.
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 Laila enriches the world of Oriental investigation with a monument of labour and scholarship and of research. * * * * * In the name of the whole world of Oriental scholarship, we offer our heartfelt thanks and congratulations to Captain Burton upon the appearance of this first volume; and we look forward with the keenest interest for its successors.
Home News, September 18th, 1885.
Captain Burton has begun to issue the volumes of his subscription translation of the Arabian Nights, and its fortunate possessors will now be able to realize the full flavour of Oriental feeling. They will now have the great storehouse of Eastern folk-lore opened to them, and Captain Burton’s minute acquaintance with Eastern life makes his comments invaluable. In this respect, as well as in the freeness of the translation, the version will be distinguished from its many predecessors. Captain Burton’s preface, it may be observed, bears traces of soreness at official neglect. Indeed it seems curious that his services could not have been utilised in the Soudan, when the want of competent Arabic scholars was so severely felt.
Nottingham Journal, September 19th, 1885.
But to scholars and men who have sufficient love of the soul of these sweet stories to discern the form in its true proportions, the new edition will be welcome. From an Oriental point of view the work is masterly to a degree. The quatrains and couplets, reading like verses from Elizabethan mantels, and forming a perfect rosary of Eastern lore, the constant succession of brilliant pictures, and the pleasure of meeting again our dear old friend Shahrazad, all these combine to give a unique charm and interest to this “perfect expositor of the mediaeval Moslem mind.”
The Bat, September 29th, 1885.
Captain Burton, in his way, renders a gigantic service to all students of literature who are not profound Orientalists, and to many who are, by giving them a literal, honest, and accurate translation of the Arabian Nights. * * * Some idiotic persons here and there, and certain journals which have earned an infamous notoriety by doing their best to deprave public morals, have raised a foolish clamour against Captain Burton and his translation. Journalists, who had no objection to pandering to the worst tastes of humanity at a penny a copy, are suddenly inspired by much righteous indignation at a privately printed
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 naivete combined with stylistic subtlety of the former than to the smooth humanistic elegancies of the latter.
“This, however, is a minor point. The real question is whether a word for word version of the Arabian Nights, executed with peculiar literary vigor, exact scholarship, and rare insight into Oriental modes of thought and feeling, can under any shadow of presence be classed with ‘the garbage of the brothels.’ In the lack of lucidity, which is supposed to distinguish English folk, our middle-class censores morum strain at the gnat of a privately circulated translation of an Arabic classic, while they daily swallow the camel of higher education based upon minute study of Greek and Latin literature. When English versions of Theocritus and Ovid, of Plato’s Phaedrus and the Ecclesiazusae, now within the reach of every school-boy, have been suppressed, then and not till then can a ‘plain and literal’ rendering of the Arabian Nights be denied with any colour of consistency to adult readers. I am far from saying that there are not valid reasons for thus dealing with Hellenic and Graeco-Roman and Oriental literature in its totality. But let folk reckon what Anglo Saxon Puritanism logically involves. If they desire an Anglo-Saxon Index Librorum Prohibitorum, let them equitably and consistently apply their principles of inquisitorial scrutiny to every branch of human culture.
“John Addington Symonds.”
The Lincoln Gazette, Saturday,
October 10th, 1885.
Thousand Nights and a Night.
First Notice
Everything comes to him who waits—even the long-promised, eagerly-expected “Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights,” by Richard F. Burton. It is a whole quarter of a century since this translation of one of the most famous books of the world was contemplated, and we are told it is the natural outcome of the well-known Pilgrimage to Medinah and Mecca. Of Captain Burton’s fitness for the task who can doubt. It was during that celebrated journey to the tomb of the Prophet that he proved himself to be an Arab—indeed,
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
The Lincoln
Gazette, Saturday, October 17th, 1885.
Second
Notice.
In bringing out his Arabian Nights Captain Burton has made a bold attempt to dispense with the middleman the publisher. He has gone straight to the printer, he himself undertaking the business of distribution. It is time somebody should be energetic. With curious submission authors go on bearing their grievances, and sow that others may reap. Whole editions of travels are issued, and the person most concerned, the author, gets a pittance of 5. And only the other day Walt Whitman, most illustrious of American poets, and in the opinion of capable judges the most illustrious man of letters across the Atlantic, publicly that the profits on his writings for a whole year amounted to a few dollars. Captain Burton has broken through the bondage, and the result promises to be highly satisfactory. But he has been threatened with pains and penalties, one trade journal, the Printing Times and Lithographer, under the immediate direction of an eminent bookseller, known for his vast purchases of rare publications, announced that The Arabian Nights would be suppressed unless its tone and morals were unexceptionable! In short, publishers are exasperated, and, like the Peers, they do not see the force of being abolished. The authors, however, who sigh to be independent, must not take it for granted that the experiment is easy, or likely to be often successful. In this particular instance it is a case of the Man and the Book. There is only one Arabian Nights in the world, and only one Captain Burton.
The Thousand Nights and a Night offers a complete picture of Eastern peoples. But the English reader must be prepared to find that the manners of Arabs and Moslems differ from his own. Eastern people look at things from a more natural and primitive point of view, and they say what they think with all the unrestraint of children. At times their plain speaking is formidable, but they are not conscious of impropriety, and their coarseness is not intentional. It is their nature to be downright, and to be communicative on subjects about which the Saxon is shy or silent, and it must be remembered that the separation of the sexes adds considerably to this freedom of expression. Their language is material in quality, every root is objective; as an instance, for the word soul they have no more spiritual equivalent than breath. Even the conversation between parents and children is of incredible frankness, and the Wazir of Egypt talks to his daughter “the Lady of Beauty,” in a fashion astonishing to the West. But the Arabs are a great mixture. They are keenly alive to beauty, and every youth and every damsel is described in glowing, rapturous terms. We have heard in our own country, so far north as chilly Scotland, of a whole audience standing up in a theatre to applaud the entrance and acknowledge the charms of a beautiful woman. In the East they are far more readily subjugated, and the event is of everyday occurrence, and not a wonder. “When the people of Damascus saw Ajib’s beauty and brilliancy and perfect grace and symmetry (for he was a marvel of comeliness and winning loveliness, softer than the cool breeze of the North, sweeter than limpid waters to man in drouth, and pleasanter than the health for which sick man sueth), a mighty many followed him, whilst others ran on before and sat down on the road until he should come up, that they might gaze on him.” The Arabs are highly imaginative, and their world is peopled with supernatural beings, whilst Ovid is surpassed in the number and ingenuity of their metamorphoses. Their nerves are highly strung, they are emotional to the hysteric degree, and they do everything in the superlative fashion. They love at first sight, and one glimpse of a face is enough to set them in flames; they cease to sleep or to eat until they are admitted to the adored presence, they weep till they faint, they rend their garments, pluck their beards, buffet their faces, and after paroxysms of passion they recover sufficiently to recite verses—“and he beat his face and head and recited these couplets”—“then she recited, weeping bitterly the while”—“When the young man heard these words he wept with sore weeping, till his bosom was drenched with tears and began reciting.” All this effervescence, so different to our rigid repression, all this exuberance of feeling is the gift of a hot climate. And, besides this easy stirring of their passions, they always live in supreme consciousness that every impulse, every act is decreed, that they drift without will
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
“Now when the Sultan heard the mournful voice he sprang to his feet, and following the sound found a curtain let down over the chamber door. He raised it and saw behind it a young man sitting upon a couch about a cubic above the ground: he fair to the sight, a well- shaped wight, with eloquence dight, his forehead was flower-white, his cheek rosy bright, and a mole on his cheek breadth like an ambergris mite.”
It is broken again to bring into fuller notice the perfections of one of the three merry ladies of Baghdad, sitting under a silken canopy, the curtains “looped up with pearls as big as filberts and bigger.” We are told to note how eastern are the metaphors, how confused the flattery.
“Thereupon sat a lady bright of blee, with brow-beaming brilliancy, and her eyebrows were arched as for archery; her breath breathed ambergris and perfumery, and her lips were sugar to taste and carnelian to see. Her stature was straight as the letter I (the letter Alif a straight perpendicular stroke), and her face shamed the noon sun’s radiancy; and she was even as a galaxy or a dome with golden marquetry, or a bride displayed on choicest finery, or a noble maid of Araby.”
And prose is not thought adequate to do justice to the natural beauty of a garden “like one of the pleasaunces of Paradise.”
“It was a garden with trees of freshest green and ripe fruits of yellow sheen; and its birds were singing clear and keen, and rills ran wimpling through the fair terrene.”
It is a marvel that these cadences have never been reproduced before. They have been faintly attempted by Eastwick, in his “Gulistan,” whilst Mr. Payne simply passed them over, rejected them as of no account. They fall in with Captain Burton’s plan of omitting nothing; of giving the Nights intact in the precise form in which they are enjoyed by the Oriental. Beside the verses so characteristic of exaggerated Arabic sentiment, and the rhymed cadences, let like precious stones into the gold of the prose, the proverbs embodying the proverbial wit and wisdom are all rhymed as in the original Arabic. What Arabists think of this translation we may learn from a professed Arabist writing to this effect:—“I am free to confess, after many years study of Arabic, a comparison of your translation with the text has taught me more than many months of dry study,” whilst Englishmen who for years have lived in the East are making the discovery that, after all, they have known little or nothing, and their education
Arabian Nights,
Volume 16
Footnotes
[FN#1] Tome xii. is dated 1789, the other three, 1788, to include them in the “Cabinet.”
[FN#2] The titles of all the vols. are dated alike, 1793, the actual date of printing.
[FN#3] This name is not in the Arabic text, and I have vainly puzzled my brains about its derivation or meaning.
[FN#4] This P.N. is, I presume, a corruption of “Shawalan"=one falling short. The wife “Oitba” is evidently “Otba” or “Utba.”
[FN#5] See my Supplemental volume i. pp. 37-116, “The Ten Wazirs; or, the History of King Azadbakht and his Son.”
[FN#6] Ms. pp. 140-182. Gauttier, vol. ii., pp. 313-353, Histoire du sage Heycar translated by M. Agoub: Weber, “History of Sinkarib and his two Viziers” (vol. ii. 53): the “Vizier” is therein called Hicar.
[FN#7] This form of the P.N. is preferred by Prof. R. Hoerning in his “Prisma des Sanherib,” etc. Leipsic, 1878. The etymology is “Sin akhi-irib"=Sini (Lunus, or the Moon-God) increaseth brethren. The canon of Ptolemy fixes his accession at B.C. 702, the first year of Elibus or Belibus. For his victories over Babylonia, Palestine, Judea, and Egypt see any “Dictionary of the Bible,” and Byron for the marvellous and puerile legend—
The Assyrian came down as a wolf on the fold,
which made him lose in one night 185,000 men, smitten by the “Angel of the Lord” (2 Kings xix. 35). Seated upon his throne before Lachish he is represented by a bas-relief as a truly noble and kingly figure.
[FN#8] I presume that the author hereby means a “fool,” Pers. nadan. But in Assyrian story Nadan was=Nathan, King of the people of Pukudu, the Pekod of Jeremiah (i. 21) and other prophets.
[FN#9] In text always “Atur,” 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), Nabit, Jarmuk, and Basil. Ibn Khaldun (iii. 413), in his “Universal History,” opposes this opinion of Ibn Sa’id.
[FN#10] i.e. “Fish-town” or “town of Nin” =Ninus, the founder. In mod. days “Naynawah” was the name of a port on the east bank of the Tigris; and moderns have unearthed the old city at Koyunjik, Nabi Yunas, and the Tall (mound of) Nimrud.
[FN#11] The surroundings suggest Jehovah, the tribal deity of the Jews. The old version says, “Hicar was a native of the country of Haram (Harran), and had brought from thence the knowledge of the true God; impelled, however, by an irresistible decree,” etc.
[FN#12] i.e. a woollen cloth dyed red. Hence Pyrard (i. 244) has “red scarlet,” and (vol. ii.) “violet scarlet”; Froissart (xvth centy.) has “white scarlet,” and Marot (xvith) has “green scarlet.” The word seems to be French of xiith century, but is uncertain: Littre proposes Galaticus, but admits the want of an intermediate form. Piers Plowman and Chaucer use “cillatun, which suggests Pers. “Sakalat, or “Saklatun”, 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. Suclat.”
[FN#13] i.e."Al-Kirm,” Arab. and Pers. =a worm, as in Kirman (see Supplem. vol. i. 40); the coccus ilicis, vulg. called cochineal.
[FN#14] Arab. “Arz”, from the Heb. Arz or Razah (raz=to vibrate), the root {Greek} (cedrus conifera), the Assyrian “Erimu of Lebanon,” of which mention is so often made. The old controversy as to whether “Razah"=cedar or fir, might easily have been settled if the disputants had known that the modern Syrians still preserve the word for the clump called “The Cedars” on the seaward slope of the Libanus.
[FN#15] We should say “reading and writing,” but the greater difficulty of deciphering the skeleton eastern characters places reading in the more honourable place. They say of a very learned man, “He readeth it off (readily) as one drinketh water.”
[FN#16] Arab. “Al-Sahib al-jayyid.” ["Jayyid” is, by the measure “Fay’il,” derived from the root, “Jaud,” to excel, like “Kayyis,” from “Kaus” (see Suppl. vol. iv., p.277), “Mayyit” from “Maut,” “Sayyid” from “Saud.” The form was originally “Jaywid;” then the Waw became assimilated to the preceding Ja, on account of the following Kasrah, and this assimilation or “Idgham” is indicated by Tashdid. As from “Kayyis” the diminutive “Kuwayyis” is formed, so “Jayyid” forms the Tasghir, “Juwayyid,” which, amongst the Druzes, has the specific meaning of “deeply versed in religious matters.”—St.]
[FN#17] “Kul,” vulg. for “Kul”; a form constant in this Ms.
[FN#18] Gauttier “Sarkhadom,” the great usurper Sargon, a contemporary of Merodach Baladan of Babylon and of Sabaco 1st of Ethiopia, B.C. 721-702: one of the greatest Assyrian Kings, whose place has been determined to be between Shalmaneser and his son, the celebrated Sennacherib, who succeeded him. The name also resembles the biblical Ezarhaddon (Asaridanus), who, however, was the son of Sennacherib, and occupied the throne of Babylon in B.C. 680.
[FN#19] Gauttier, pp. 317-319, has greatly amplified and modified these words of wisdom.
[FN#20] In text “Ya Bunayya” =lit. “O my little son,” a term of special fondness.
[FN#21] Arab. “Jamrah,” a word of doubtful origin, but applied to a tribe strong enough to be self-dependent. The “Jamarat of the Arabs” were three, Banu Numayr, Banu Haris (who afterwards confederated with Mashij) and Banu Dabbah (who joined the Rikab), and at last Nomayr remained alone. Hence they said of it:
“Nomayr the jamrah (also “a live coal”) of Arabs are; * And ne’er cease they to burn in fiery war.”
See Chenery’s Al-Hariri, pp. 343-428.
[FN#22] In the Arab. “Ta’arkalak,” which M. Houdas renders “qu’elle ne te retienne dans ses filets.”
[FN#23] A lieu commun in the East. It is the Heb. “Shaked” and the fruit is the “Loz” (Arab. Lauz)=Amygdalus communis, which the Jews looked upon as the harbinger of spring and which, at certain feasts, they still carry to the synagogue, as representing the palm branches of the Temple.
[FN#24] The mulberry-tree in Italy will bear leaves till the end of October and the foliage is bright as any spring verdure.
[FN#25] Gauttier omits this: pas poli, I suppose.
[FN#26] The barbarous sentiment is Biblical-inspired, “He that spareth his rod hateth his son” (Prov. xiii. 24), and “Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying” (Prov. xix. 18). Compare the Arab equivalent, “The green stick is of the trees of Paradise” (Pilgrimage i. 151). But the neater form of the saw was left to uninspired writers; witness “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” which appears in Ray’s proverbs, and is immortalised by Hudibras:—
Love
is a boy by poets styled,
Then
spare the rod and spoil the child. (ii. 1, 843.)
It is to the eternal credit of John Locke, the philosopher, that in an age of general brutality he had the moral courage to declare, “Beating is the worst and therefore the last means to be used in the correction of children.”
[FN#27] Arab. “Dahn” (oil, ointment) which may also mean “soft sawder.”
[FN#28] Aucun roi ne peut gouverner sans armee et on ne peut avoir une armee sans argent. For a treatise on this subject see the “Chronique de Tabari,” ii. 340.
[FN#29] M. Agoub, in Gauttier (vi. 321) remarks of these prosings, “Ces maximes qui ne seraient pas indignes, pour la plupart, des beaux temps de la philosophie grecque, appartiennent toutes au texte arabe; je n’ai fait que les disposer dans un ordre plus methodique. J’ai du aussi supprimer quelques unes, soit parce qu’elles n’offraient que des preceptes d’une morale banale, soit que traduites en frangais, elles eussent pu paraitre bizarres a des lecteurs europeens. Ce que je dis ici, s’applique egalement a celles qui terminent le conte et qui pourraient fournir le sujet de plusieurs fables.” One would say that the translator is the author’s natural enemy.
[FN#30] Arab. “Ammal,” now vulgarly written with initial Hamzah, a favourite expression in Egypt and meaning “Verily,” “I believe you, my boy,” and so forth. But “’Ammal” with the Ayn may also mean “he intended,” or “he was about to.”
[FN#31] In Gauttier the name is Ebnazadan, but the Arab. text has “Naudan,” which I take to be the Persian “New of knowledge” as opp. to Nadan, the “unknowing.”
[FN#32] In Chavis (Weber ii. 58) and Gauttier (p. 323) Akis, roi de Perse. The second name may be “Shah of the Ebna” or Persian incolae of Al-Yaman; aristocratie Persane naturalisee Arabe (Al-Mas’udi, iv. 188, etc.).
[FN#33] i.e. the Lowland of the Eglantine or Narcissus; Nisrin is also in dictionaries an island where amber abounds. There is a shade of difference between Buk’ah and Bak’ah. The former which is the corrector form=a patch of ground, a plain (hence the Buka’a= Coelesyria), while Bak’ah=a hollow where water collects. In Chavis we find “the plain of Harrim” and in Gauttier la plaine de Baschrin; and the appointment was “for the first of the month Niram” (Naysan).
[FN#34] “Pharaoh,” which Hebrew Holy Writ left so vague and unsatisfactory, has become with the Arabs “Fir’aun”, the dynastic name of Egyptian kings, as Kisra (Chosroes) of the Persians, Tobba of the Himyarites, Kaysar (Caesar) of the Romans, Jalut (Goliath) of the Phoenicians, Faghfur of the Chinese, Khakan of the Tartars, Adfonsh (Alfonso) of the Spanish, and Aguetid of the Berbers. Ibn Khaldun iv. 572.
[FN#35] “Mizr” in Assyrian="Musur,” in Heb. “Misraim” (the dual Misrs, whose duality permeated all their polity), and in Arab. “Misr,” the O. Egypt. “Ha kahi Ptah” (the Land of the great God, Ptah), and the Coptic “Ta-mera"=the Land of the Nile flood, ignoring, I may add, all tradition of a Noachian or general deluge.
[FN#36] The simplicity of old Assyrian correspondence is here well preserved, as we may see by comparing those letters with the cuneiform inscriptions, etc., by S. Abden Smith (Pfeiffer, Leipsic, 1887). One of them begins thus, “The will of the King to Sintabni-Uzur. Salutation from me to thee. May it be well with thee. Regarding Sinsarra-utzur whom thou hast sent to me, how is thy report?” etc. We find such expressions as “May the great Gods, lovers of thy reign, preserve thee an hundred years;” also “Peace to the King, my lord,” etc.
[FN#37] Arab. “Yaum al-Khamis.” For the week-days see vol. vi. 190, and for a longer notice, Al-Mas’udi, iii. 422-23.
[FN#38] In the text “Kal” (al-Rawi), “the Reciter saith”—which formula I omit here and elsewhere.
[FN#39] i.e. “The Father of the little Fish,” in Gauttier (vii. 329) “Abou Someika.”
[FN#40] By way of insult; as I have before noticed.
[FN#41] He had now learned that Nadan had ruined him.
[FN#42] The wife (in p. 155; “Ashghaftini”) 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.
[FN#43] The old version attributes all this device to “Zefagnie;” thus injuring the unity and the interest of the tale.
[FN#44] Arab. “Jund” plur. “Junud,” a term mostly applied to regular troops under the Government, as opposed to soldiers who took service with the Amirs or great barons—a state of things still enduring in non-British India.
[FN#45] Who thus makes a “Ma’adabah"=wake or funeral feast before his death. See vol. viii. 231.
[FN#46] i.e. “Father of the Fishlet”, in the old version “Yapousmek” (Ya Abu Sumayk).
[FN#47] In Chavis he becomes “an old slave, a magician, stained with the greatest crimes, who has the air and figure of Hicar.”
[FN#48] A formula which announces the death of his supposed enemy.
[FN#49] Arab. " Matmurah"=Sardabah (i. 340), a silo for storing grain, an underground cell (ii. 39).
[FN#50] See text “Nahu” from “Nauh"=ceremonious keening for the dead. The general term for the wail is “Walwalah” or “Wilwal” (an onomatopoy) and for the public wailing-woman “Naddabah.”
[FN#51] Here we find the Doric form “Rahum” for “Rahim,” or it may simply be the intensive and emphatic form, as “Nazur"=one who looks intently for “Nazir,” a looker.
[FN#52] In the old version “a tenth part of the revenues.” The “Kasim” of the text is an unusual word which M. Houdas would render revenues en nature, as opposed to Khiraj, revenues en argent. I translate it by “tax tribute.”
[FN#53] In text “’Azzamin, “i.e. men who recite “’Azm,” mostly Koranic versets which avert evil.
[FN#54] This may either be figurative or literal—upon the ashes where the fire had been; even as the father of Sayf al-Muluk sat upon the floor of his audience-hall (vol. vii. 314).
[FN#55] In text “Ya’tadir”—from ’Adr=heavy rain, boldness. But in this Ms. the dots are often omitted and the word may be Ya’tazir=find excuse.
[FN#56] In the old version the wife is made to disclose the secret of her husband being alive—again a change for the worse.
[FN#57] Here “Wayha-v.” and before “Wayla-k”: see vols. v. 258; vii. 127 and iii. 82.
[FN#58] The King, after the fashion of Eastern despots, never blames his own culpable folly and hastiness: this was decreed to him and to his victim by Destiny.
[FN#59] The older version reads “Roc” and informs us that “it is a prodigious bird, found in the deserts of Africa: it will bear two hundred pounds weight; and many are of opinion that the idea of this bird is visionary.” In Weber ii. 63, this is the device of “Zafagnie,” who accompanies her husband to Egypt.
[FN#60] This name appears to be a corruption. The sound, however, bears a suspicious resemblance to “Dabshalim” (a name most proper for such a Prince, to wit, meaning in their tongue a mighty King), who appears in chapt. i. of the “Fables of Pilpay” (Bidpai=Bidyapati=Lord of Lore?). “Dabshalimat"=the Dabshalims, was the dynastic title of the Kings of Somanath (Somnauth) in Western India.
[FN#61] Arab. “Tin"=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’Archeologie Egyptienne” (p. 7. Paris, Quantin, 1887), illustrates this ancient industry which endures with all its gear to the present day. The average measured 22 X 11 X 14 cm.; the larger was 38 X 18 X 14 cm., with intermediate sizes. These formed the cores of temple walls, and, being revetted with granite, syenite, alabaster and other stones, made a grand show; but when the outer coat was removed they were presently weathered to the external semblance of mud-piles. Such was mostly the condition of the ruins of grand Bubastis ("Pi-Pasht”) hod. Zagazig, where excavations are still being pushed on.
[FN#62] The old version has “Masser, Grand Cairo (in the days of the Pharaohs!); so called from having been built by Misraim, the son of Cham.”
[FN#63] In Chavis, “Abicam, a Chaldaean astrologer;” in Gauttier “Abimacam.”
[FN#64] In Al-Hariri (p. 409) we read, “Hospitality is three days;” and a Hadis of the Prophet confirms the liberal practice of The Ignorance:—“The entertainment of a guest is three days, and the viaticum ("Jaizah”) is a day and a night, and whatso exceedeth is an alms-gift.” On the first day is shown largesse and courtesy; on the second and third the stranger is treated after the usual custom of the household, and then he is provided with rations for a day and a night. See Lane: A. Nights, i. 486; also The Nights, vol. i. 3.
[FN#65] i.e. Not standing astraddle, or in other such indecorous attitude.
[FN#66] Chavis, “Bilelsanam, the oracle of Bel, the chief God of the Assyrian: “Gauttier, Une idole Bil. Bel (or Ba’al or Belus, the Phoenician and Canaanite head-god) may here represent Hobal the biggest idol in the Meccan Pantheon, which used to be borne on raids and expeditions to give plunder a religious significance. Tabari iii. 17. Evidently the author holds it to be an idol.
[FN#67] The Syro-solar month=April; much celebrated by poets and fictionists: rain falling at such time into shells becomes pearls and upon serpents poison.
[FN#68] The text has “Baybunah,” prop. Babunaj in Arab., and in Pers. “Babuk,” or “Babunak"=the white camomile-flower. See vol. iii. 58.
[FN#69] “Khabata"="He (the camel) pawed the ground.” The prim. sig. is to beat, secondly, it is applied to a purblind camel which beats or strikes the ground and so stumbles, or to him who bashes a tree for its leaves; and lastly to him who gets alms by begging. See Chenery’s Al-Hariri, p. 447.
[FN#70] Arab. “Karz"=moneys lent in interest and without fixed term of payment, as opp. to “Dayn.”
[FN#71] In text “Kintar"=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 Kintar 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 Kintar of gold is twelve hundred ounces.” Baron de Slane (Ibn Khaldun i. 210) computes 100 Kintars=1 million of francs.
[FN#72] In the text “wa la ahad tafawwaha fina.”
[FN#73] Arab. “Falsafah"=philosophy: see vols. v. 234 and vii. 145.
[FN#74] In the text “Fa-yatrahuna,” masc. for fem.
[FN#75] The writer probably remembered that the cat was a sacred animal amongst the Egyptians: see Herod., ii. 66, and Diod. Sic., who tells us (vol. i. p. 94) of a Roman put to death under Ptolemy Auletes for accidentally killing one of these holy beasts. The artists of Bubastis, whose ruins are now for the first time being scientifically explored, modelled the animal in bronze with an admirable art akin to nature.
[FN#76] M. Houdas explains this miswritten passage, Quand le soleil fut leve et qu’il penetra par ces ouvertures (lis. abkhash, trou de flute), il repandit le sable dans ces cylindres formes par la lumiere du soleil. It is not very intelligible. I understand that the Sage went behind the Palace and drove through a mound or heap of earth a narrow hole bearing east -west, which he partially filled up with sand; and so when the sun rose the beams fell upon it and made it resemble a newly made cord of white flax. M. Agoub (in Gauttier vol. vi. 344) shirks, as he is wont to do, the whole difficulty. [The idea seems to me to be, and I believe this is also the meaning of M. Houdas, that Haykar produced streaks of light in an otherwise dark room by boring holes in the back wall, and scattered the sand over them, so that, while passing through the rays of the sun, it assumed the appearance of ropes. Hence he says mockingly to Pharaoh, “Have these ropes taken up, and each time you please I will twist thee the like of them”—reading “Aftilu,” lst p. aor. instead of “Iftil”, 2nd imper.—St.)
[FN#77] Gauttier (vi. 347), Ces presens ne sont pas dignes de lui; mais peu de chose contents les rois.
[FN#78] Haykar is a Sage who follows the religion of nature, “Love thy friends and hate thy foes.” Gauttier (vii. 349) embroiders all this with Christian and French sentiment— L’intention secrete de Heycar etait de sauver la vie a l’ingrat qui avait conspire contre la sienne. Il voulait pour toute vengeance, le mettre desormais dans l’impossibilite de nuire et l’abandonner ensuite a ses remords, persuade que le remords n’est pas le moindre chatiment du coupable. True nonsense this when talking of a character born bad: its only remorse is not to have done worse than bad.
[FN#79] Striking the nape being the Moslem equivalent for “boxing ears.”
[FN#80] With this formula compare Chaucer, “The Manciple’s Tale.”
[FN#81] In the text “Znnakt-ha,” which is unintelligible, although the sense be clear.
[FN#82] A bird unknown to the dictionaries, apparently a species of hawk.
[FN#83] In the text “Jurah Syan” for “Jurah Sayyal.”
[FN#84] The tree having furnished the axe-helve.
[FN#85] M. Houdas translates Tu as medit de moi et tu m’as accable de tes mechancetes.
[FN#86] In text “Alif, ba, ta, sa,” the latter written with a Sin instead of a Tha, showing the vulgar use which extends from Alexandria to Meccah.
[FN#87] So in French, deriding the difference between written and spoken English, Ecrivez Salmonassar, prononcez crocodile.
[FN#88] Because he owes thee more than a debt of life.
[FN#89] i.e. “Tammat"=She (the tale) is finished.
[FN#90] MSS. pp.217-265. See the “Arabian Tales,” translated by Robert Heron (Edinburgh M.DCC.Xcii.), where it is “The Robber-Caliph; or Adventures of Haroun Alraschid, with the Princess of Persia, and the fair Zutulbe,” vol. i. pp. 2-69. Gauttier, Histoire du Khalyfe de Baghdad, vol. vii. pp.117-150.
[FN#91] In text “Ahadis,” esp. referred to the sayings of Mohammed, and these are divided into two great sections, the “Ahadis al-Nabawi,” or the actual words pronounced by the Apostle; and the “Ahadis al-Kudus,” or the sentences attributed to the Archangel Gabriel.
[FN#92] Heron has “the Festival of Haraphat,” adding a power of nonsense. This is the day of the sermon, when the pilgrims sleep at Muzdalifah (Pilgrimage iii. 265). Kusayy, an ancestor of the Apostle, was the first to prepare a public supper at this oratory, and the custom was kept up by Harun al-Rashid, Zubaydah and Sha’ab, mother of the Caliph al-Muktadir (Tabari ii. 368). Alms are obligatory on the two great ’I’ds or festivals, al-Fitr which ends the Ramazan fast and al-Kurban during the annual Pilgrimage. The dole must consist of at least a “Sa’” = 7 lbs. in grain, dates, &c.
[FN#93] i.e. habited themselves in the garments of little people: so to “enlarge the turband” is to assume the rank of an ’Alim or learned man. “Jayb,” the breast of a coat is afterwards used in the sense of a pocket.
[FN#94] Either the Caliph was persuaded that the white wrist was a “promise of better things above and below,” or he proposed marriage as a mere freak, intelligible enough when divorce costs only two words.
[FN#95] In text “Nakdi” = the actual as opposed to the contingent dowry: sec vols. vii. 126; ix. 32.
[FN#96] This is said in irony.
[FN#97] In text “Bashakhin” plur. of “Bashkhanah:” see Suppl. vols. ii. 119; iii. 87.
[FN#98] In Heron he becomes “Kassera-Abocheroan.” Anushirwan (in full Anushinrawan = sweet of soul) is popularly supposed to have begun his rule badly after the fashion of Eastern despots, and presently to have become the justest of monarchs. Nothing of this, however, is found in Tabari (ii. 159).
[FN#99] He was indignant because twitted with having married a beggar-maid like good King Cophetua. In Heron he is “moved by so sensible a reply.”
[FN#100] Plur. “Kataif,” a kind of pancake made of flour and sugar (or honey) and oil or butter.
[FN#101] Arab. “Sakka” = a water-carrier, generally a bad lot. Of the “Sakka Sharbah,” who supplies water to passengers in the streets, there is an illustration in Lane; M. E. chapt. xiv.
[FN#102] In the text “Kahbah” an ugly word = our whore (i.e. hired woman): it is frightfully common in every-day speech. See vol. ii. 70.
[FN#103] Arab. “Sibak” usually = a leash (for falconry, etc.).
[FN#104] I have emphasised this detail which subsequently becomes a leading incident.
[FN#105] Usual formulae when a respectable person is seen drinking: the same politeness was also in use throughout the civilised parts of mediaeval Europe. See the word “Hanian” (vol. ii. 5), which at Meccah and elsewhere is pronounced also “Haniyyan.”
[FN#106] In text “Ya Ta’is,” a favorite expression in this Ms. Page 612 (Ms.) has “Ta’ish,” a clerical error, and in page 97 we have “Ya Ta’asat-na” = O our misery!
[FN#107] As might a “picker-up of unconsidered trifles.”
[FN#108] In text “Akba’ wa Zarabil.” I had supposed the first to be the Pers. Kaba = a short coat or tunic, with the Arab. ’Ayn (the second is the common corruption for “Zarabin” = slaves’ shoes, slippers: see vol. x. 1), but M. Hondas translates Ni calottes ni calecons, and for the former word here and in Ms. p.227 he reads “‘Arakiyah” = skull-cap: see vol. i. 215. ["Akba’” is the pi. of “Kub’,” which latter occurs infra, p.227 of the Ar. Ms., and means, in popular language, any part of a garment covering the head, as the hood of a Burnus or the top-piece of a Kalansuwah; also a skull-cap, usually called “’Araqiyah.” —St.]
[FN#109] Heron dubs him “Hazeb (Hajib) Yamaleddin.” In text “’Alai al-Din;” and in not a few places it is familiarly abbreviated to “’Ali” (p. 228, etc.). For the various forms of writing the name see Suppl. vol. iii. 30. The author might have told us the young Chamberlain’s name Arabice earlier in the tale; but it is the Rawi’s practice to begin with the vague and to end in specification. I have not, however, followed his example here or elsewhere.
[FN#110] i.e. Destiny so willed it. For the Pen and the Preserved Tablet see vol. v. 322.
[FN#111] This was the custom not only with Harun as Mr. Heron thinks, but at the Courts of the Caliphs generally.
[FN#112] In text “Ghiyar,” Arab. = any piece of dress or uniform which distinguishes a class, as the soldiery: in Pers. = a strip of yellow cloth worn by the Jews subject to the Shah.
[FN#113] Arab. “Zarbul taki,” the latter meaning “high-heeled.” Perhaps it may signify also “fenestrated, or open-worked like a window.” So “poules” or windows cut in the upper leathers of his shoes. Chaucer, The Miller’s Tale.
[FN#114] “Mayzar,” in Pers. = a turband: in Arab. “Miizar” = a girdle; a waistcloth.
[FN#115] Arab. “Kaus al-Bunduk” (or Banduk) a pellet-bow, the Italian arcobugio, the English arquebuse; for which see vol. i. 10. Usually the “Kis” 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’etait comme on le voit, le mot d’ordre dit Khalyfe. He supposes, then, that firelocks were known in the days of Harun al-Rashid (A.D. 786-809). Al-Bundukani = the cross-bow man, or rather the man of the pellet-bow was, according to the Rawi, the name by which the Caliph was known in this disguise. Al-Zahir Baybars al-Bundukdari, the fourth Baharite Soldan (A.D. 1260-77), was so entitled because he had been a slave to a Bundukdar, an officer who may be called the Grand Master of Artillery. In Chavis and Cazotte the Caliph arms himself with a spear, takes a bow and arrow (instead of the pellet-bow that named him), disguises his complexion, dyes beard and eyebrows, dons a large coarse turband, a buff waistcoat with a broad leathern belt, a short robe of common stuff and half-boots of strong coarse leather, and thus “assumes the garb of an Arab from the desert.” (!)
[FN#116] See vol. i. 266.
[FN#117] i.e. by the Archangel Gabriel.
[FN#118] Arab. “Habbah” = a grain (of barley, etc.), an obolus, a mite: it is also used for a gold bead in the shape of a cube forming part of the Egyptian woman’s headdress (Lane M.E., Appendix A). As a weight it is the 48th of a dirham, the third of a kirat (carat) or 127/128 of an English grain, avoir.
[FN#119] In text “Mahma” = as often as = kullu-ma. 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-ma) which gives no sense except by the addition thereto of two words, or the shortening thereof to two letters (i.e. ma); and in the first case there is adhesion and in the second compulsion?” (Chenery, pp. 246-253).
[FN#120] In Chavis and Cazotte he looks through the key-hole which an Eastern key does not permit, the holes being in the bolt. See Index, Suppl. vol. v.
[FN#121] In text “Kabal-ki,” which I suspect to be a clerical error for “Katal-ki” = Allah strike thee dead. See vol. iv. 264, 265. [One of the meanings of “Mukabalah,” the third form of “kabila,” is “requital,” “retaliation.” The words in the text could therefore be translated: “may God requite thee.”—St.]
[FN#122] In Chavis and Cazotte she swears “by the name of God which is written on our Great Prophet’s forehead.”
[FN#123] Arab. “Ya Luss”; for this word = the Gr. {Greek}; see Suppl. vol. v. index.
[FN#124] “Al-Natur,” the keeper, esp. of a vineyard, a word naturalized in Persian. The Caliph asks, Is this a bon> fide affair and hast thou the power to settle the matter definitely? M. Houdas translates as Les raisins sont-ils a toi, ou bien es-tu seulement la gardienne de la vigne? [The verb zaraba, 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 ("tuzaribi,” 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, “tuzaribi” means here simply: “Dost thou play the part of.”—St.]
[FN#125] The innuendo is intelligible and I may draw attention to the humorous skill with which the mother-in-law’s character is drawn.
[FN#126] In text “Aska-hu ’alakah” = gave him a good sound drubbing (’alakah), as a robber would apply to a Judge had he the power.
[FN#127] Lest he happen to meet an unveiled woman on the stairs; the usual precaution is to cry “Dastur!” by your leave (Persian).
[FN#128] Arab. “Khayr”—a word of good omen.
[FN#129] In Chavis and Cazotte the mother gives her daughter’s name as Zutulbe (?) and her own Lelamain (?).
[FN#130] In text “Waliyah” or “Waliyah” = and why?
[FN#131] The “Wronged” (Al-Mazlum) 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 protege les malheureux et les orphelins (vii. 133).
[FN#132] This again is intended to show the masterful nature of the Caliph, and would be as much admired by the average coffee-house audience as it would stir the bile of the free and independent Briton.
[FN#133] The “Street of the Copperas-maker”: the name, as usual, does not appear till further on in the tale.
[FN#134] In text “Rukham” = 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 Gharib to the West of the Suez Gulf. Both were much used by the old Egyptians, and we may now fairly expect to rediscover the lost sites, about Tunis and elsewhere in Northern Africa, whence Rosso antico and other fine stones were quarried.
[FN#135] Arab. “Al-Hasil” also meaning the taxes, the revenue.
[FN#136] In text “Ka’ah” = a saloon: see vols. i. 85; i. 292; and vii. 167.
[FN#137] In the sing. “Sikalah.”
[FN#138] The Jinn here was Curiosity, said to be a familiar of the sex feminine, but certainly not less intimate with “the opposite.”
[FN#139] In text “Kinnab” which M. Houdas translates etoupe que l’on fixe an bout d’un roseau pour blanchir les murs.
[FN#140] Impossible here not to see a sly hit at the Caliph and the Caliphate.
[FN#141] The writer has omitted this incident which occurs in Chavis and Cazotte.
[FN#142] In the text, “Samd” = carpets and pots and pans.
[FN#143] The Kata 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 Ajaib al-Makhlukat 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 Hadis, “Whoso shall build to Allah a mosque, be it only the bigness of a Kata’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 Kata"); 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 Kata,” and makes De Sacy confound the bird with the Pers. Kahu or Kabk-i-dari (partridge of the valley), which is simply the francolin, the Ital. francolino, a perdrix. The latter in Arab. Is “Durraj” (Al-Mas’udi, vii. 347): see an affecting story connected with it in the Suppl. Nights (ii. 4O-43). In the xxiiid Ass. of Al-Hariri the sagacity of the Kata is alluded to, “I crossed rocky places, to which the Kata 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 Kata since he saved my party from a death by thirst on a return-ride from Harar (First Footsteps in E. Africa, p. 388). The bird is very swift, with a skurrying flight like a frightened Pigeon; and it comes to water regularly about dusk when it is easily “potted.”
[FN#144] In text “Samman” for “Samman”: Dozy gives the form “Summun” (Hondas). The literary name is “Salwa.”
[FN#145] For Wali (at one time a Civil Governor and in other ages a Master of Police) see vol. i. 259.
[FN#146] Prob. a corruption of the Pers. “Nazuk,” adj. delicate, nice.
[FN#147] In text “Jaftawat,” which is, I presume, the Arab. plur. of the Turk. “Chifut” a Jew, a mean fellow. M. Hondas refers to Dozy s.v. “Jaftah.” [The Turkish word referred to by Dozy is “Chifte” from the Persian “Juft” = a pair, any two things coupled together. “Masha’iliyah jaftawat wa fanusin” in the text would therefore be “(cresset-) bearers of double torches and lanterns,” where the plural fanusin is remarkable as a vulgarism, instead of the Dictionary form “Fawanis.”—St.]
[FN#148] So in Chavis and Cazotte: Gauttier and Heron prefer (vol. i. 38) “Chamama.” They add, “That daemon incarnate gave out himself that Satan was his father and the devil Camos (?) his brother.” The Arab word is connected with shamma = he smelt, and suggests the policeman smoking plots.
[FN#149] i.e. concealing the secret sins of the people. This sketch of the cad policeman will find many an original in the London force, if the small householder speak the truth.
[FN#150] Qui n’ait un point de contact aver l’une de ces categories—(Houdas).
[FN#151] In the old translations “The Hazen” (Khazin = treasurer?) which wholly abolishes the double entendre.
[FN#152] In text “Darbisi al-bab” from the Persian, “Dar bastan” = to tie up, to shut.
[FN#153] In text “Ghaush” for “Ghaushah” = noise, row.
[FN#154] “Akkal bula’hu” i.e. commit all manner of abominations. “To eat skite” is to talk or act foolishly.
[FN#155] In the old translations “Ilamir Youmis.”
[FN#156] In text “Dabbus bazdaghani,” which I have translated as if from the Pers. “Bazdagh” = a file. But it may be a clerical error for “Bardawani,” the well-known city in Hindostan whose iron was famous.
[FN#157] “Nahs” means something more than ill-omened, something nasty, foul, uncanny: see vol. i. 301.
[FN#158] In Chavis, Heron and Co. there are two ladders to scale the garden wall and descend upon the house-terrace which apparently they do not understand to be the roof.
[FN#159] Arab. “Al-Kafi’ah” = garde-fou, rebord d’une terrasse— (Houdas).
[FN#160] Our vulgar “Houri”: see vols. i. 90; iii. 233. There are many meanings of Hawar; one defines it as intense darkness of the black of the eye and corresponding whiteness; another that it is all which appears of the eye (as in the gazelle) meaning that the blackness is so large as to exclude the whiteness; whilst a third defines “Haura” as a woman beautiful in the “Mahajir” (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.
[FN#161] Arab. “Zalamah” = tyrants, oppressors (police and employes): see vols. i. 273, and vi. 214.
[FN#162] In text “Kunna nu’tihu li-ahad” = we should have given him to someone; which makes very poor sense. [The whole passage runs: “Haza allazi kasam allah bi-hi fa-lau kana rajul jayyid ghayr luss kunna nu’ti-hu li-ahad,” which I would translate: This is he concerning whom Allah decreed (that he should be my portion, swearing:) “and if he were a good man and no thief we would have bestowed him on someone.” In “kasama” the three ideas of decreeing, giving as a share, and binding one’s self by oath are blended together. If it should appear out of place to introduce Divinity itself as speaking in this context, we must not forget
[FN#163] In text “Hmsh.” The Dicts. give Himmas and Himmis, forms never heard, and Forsk. (Flora AEgypt.-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 “Malan” is the plant in pod. It is the cicer arietinum concerning which a classical tale is told. “Cicero (pron. Kikero) was a poor scholar in the University of Athens, wherewith his enemies in Rome used to reproach him, and as he passed through the streets would call out ‘O Cicer, Cicer, O,’ a word still used in Cambridge, and answers to a Servitor in Oxford.” Quaint this approximation between “Cicer” the vetch and “Sizar” which comes from “size” = rations, the Oxford “battel.”
[FN#164] Arab. “Yulakkimu,” from “Lukmah” = a mouthful: see vols. i. 266; vii. 367.
[FN#165] Arab. “Jarazat Kuzban” (plur. or “Kazib,” see vol. ii. 66) = long and slender sticks.
[FN#166] i.e. a witch; see vol. viii. 131.
[FN#167] So in the phrase “Otbah hath the colic,” first said concerning Otbah b. Rabi’a by Abu Jahl when the former advised not marching upon Badr to attack Mohammed. Tabari, vol. ii. 491.
[FN#168] Compare the French “Brr!”
[FN#169] i.e. to whom thou owest a debt of apology or excuse, “Gharim” = debtor or creditor.
[FN#170] Arab. “Jurab al-’uddah,” i.e. the manacles, fetters, etc.
[FN#171] The following three sentences are taken from the margin of (Ms.) p. 257, and evidently belong to this place.
[FN#172] In text “Bghb” evidently for “Baght” or preferably “Baghtatan.”
[FN#173] This is a twice-told tale whose telling I have lightened a little without omitting any important detail. Gauttier reduces the ending of the history to less than five pages.
[FN#174] The normal idiom for “I accept.”
[FN#175] In text Khila’t dakk al-Matrakah,” which I have rendered literally: it seems to signify an especial kind of brocade.
[FN#176] The Court of Baghdad was, like the Urdu (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.
[FN#177] Being the only son he had a voice in the disposal of his sister. The mother was the Kabirah = head of the household, in Marocco Al-Sidah = Madame mere; but she could not interfere single-handed in affairs concerning the family. See Pilgrimage, vol. iii. 198. Throughout Al-Islam in default of a father the eldest brother gives away the sisters, and if there be no brother this is done by the nearest male relation on the “sword” side. The mother has no authority in such matters nor indeed has anyone on the “spindle” side.
[FN#178] Alluding to the Wali and his men.
[FN#179] Arab. “Kunyah” (the pop. mispronunciation of “Kinyah”) is not used here with strict correctness. It is a fore-name or bye-name generally taken from the favourite son, Abu (father of) being prefixed. When names are written in full it begins the string, e.g., Abu Mohammed (fore-name), Kasim (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-Bundukani or Badi’u’l-Zaman (Rarity of the Age), which may be placed either before or after the “Kunyah” when the latter is used alone. Chenery (Al-Hariri, p.315) confines the “Kunyah” to fore-names beginning with Abu; 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 praenomine molles Auriculae.
[FN#180] In text “Ya Kawaki,” which M. Houdas translates “O piailleur,” remarking that here it would be = poule mouillee.
[FN#181] “’Alakah kharijah” = an extraordinary drubbing.
[FN#182] In text “Ij’alni fi kll,” the latter word being probably, as M. Houdas suggests, a clerical error for “Kal-a” or “Kilaa” = safety, protection.
[FN#183] I am surprised that so learned and practical an Arabist as the Baron de Slane in his Fr. translation of Ibn Khaldun 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-Khulafa al-rashidin” by Les Califes qui marchent dans la voie droite.
[FN#184] MSS. pp. 476-504. This tale is laid down on the same lines as “Abu al-Husn and his Slave-girl Tawaddud,” vol. vi. 189. It is carefully avoided by Scott, C. de Perceval, Gauttier, etc.
[FN#185] Lit. an interpreter woman; the word is the fem. of Tarjuman, a dragoman whom Mr. Curtis calls a Drag o’ men; see vol. i. 100. It has changed wonderfully on its way from its “Semitic” home to Europe which has naturalised it as Drogman, Truchman and Dolmetsch.
[FN#186] For this word of many senses, see vols. i. 231; ix. 221. M. Caussin de Perceval (viii. 16), quoting d’Herbelot (s.v.), notes that the Abbasides thus entitled the chief guardian of the Harem.
[FN#187] See vols. iv. 100; viii. 268. In his Introduction (p. 22) to the Assemblies of Al-Hariri Chenery says, “This prosperity had now passed away, for God had brought the people of Rum (so the Arabs call the Byzantines, whom Abu Zayd here confounds with the Franks) on the land,” etc. The confusion is not Abu Zayd’s: “Rumi” in Marocco and other archaic parts of the Moslem world is still synonymous with our “European.”
[FN#188] This obedience to children is common in Eastern folk-lore: see Suppl. vol. i. 143, in which the royal father orders his son to sell him. The underlying idea is that the parents find their offspring too clever for them; not, as in the “New World,” that Youth is entitled to take precedence and command of Age.
[FN#189] In text “Fa min tumma” for “thumma”—then, alors.
[FN#190] Such as the headstall and hobbles the cords and chains for binding captives, and the mace and sword hanging to the saddle-bow.
[FN#191] i.e. not a well-known or distinguished horseman, but a chance rider.
[FN#192] These “letters of Mutalammis,” as Arabs term our Litterae Bellerophonteae, 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 Jarir bin ’Abd al-Masih. 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-’Ishrin (the son of twenty years), grew up a model reprobate who cared nothing save for three things, “to drink the dark-red wine foaming as the water mixeth with it, to urge into the fight a broad-backed steed, and to while away the dull day with a young beauty.” His apology for wilful waste is highly poetic:—
I see that the grave of the careful, the hoarder, differeth not from the grave of the debauched, the spendthrift: A hillock of earth covers this and that, with a few flat stones laid together thereon.
See the whole piece in Chenery’s Al-Hariri (p. 360), from which this note is borrowed. At last uncle and nephew fled from ruin to the Court of ’Amru bin Munzir iii., King of Hira, who in the tale of Al-Mutalammis and his wife Umaymah (The Nights, vol. v. 74) is called Al-Nu’uman bin Munzir but is better known as ’Amru bin Hind (his mother). The King, who was a derocious personage nicknamed Al-Muharrik or the Burner, because he had thrown into the fire ninety-nine men and one woman of the Tamim 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 Kabus. Tarafah, offended because kept at the tent-door whilst the master drank wine within, bitterly lampooned him together with ’Abd Amru a friend of the King; and when this was reported his death was determined upon. Amru, the King, seeing the anxiety of the two poets to quit his Court, offered them letters of introduction to Abu Karib, 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. Amru, the King, was afterwards slain by the poet-warrior, Amru bin Kulthum, also of the “Mu’allakat,” for an insult offered to his mother by Hind: hence the proverb, “Quicker to slay than ’Amru bin Kulsum” (A.P. ii. 233).
[FN#193] See vols. i. 192; iii. 14; these correspond with the “Stathmoi,” Stationes, Mansiones or Castra of Herodotus, Terps. cap. 53, and Xenophon. An. i. 2, 10.
[FN#194] In text “Ittika” viiith of waka: the form “Takwa” is generally used = fearing God, whereby one guards oneself from sin in this life and from retribution in the world to come.
[FN#195] This series of puzzling questions and clever replies is still as favourite a mental exercise in the East as it was in middle-aged Europe. The riddle or conundrum began, as far as we know, with the Sphinx, through whose mouth the Greeks spoke: nothing less likely than that the grave and mysterious Scribes of Egypt should ascribe aught so puerile to the awful emblem of royal majesty—Abu Haul, the Father of Affright. Josephus relates how Solomon propounded enigmas to Hiram of Tyre which none but Abdimus, son of the captive Abdaemon, could answer. The Tale of Tawaddud offers fair specimens of such exercises, which were not disdained by the most learned of Arabian writers. See Al-Hariri’s Ass. xxiv, which proposes twelve enigmas involving abstruse and technical points of Arabic, such as: “What be the word, which as ye will is a particle beloved, or the name of that which compriseth the slender-waisted milch camel!” Na’am = “Yes” or “cattle,” the latter word containing the Harf, or slender camel. Chenery, p. 246.
[FN#196] For the sundry meanings and significance of “Salam,” here=Heaven’s blessing, see vols. ii. 24, vi. 232.
[FN#197] This is the nursery version of the Exodus, old as Josephus and St. Jerome, and completely changed by the light of modern learning. The Children of Israel quitted their homes about Memphis (as if a large horde of half-nomadic shepherds would be suffered in the richest and most crowded home of Egypt). They marched by the Wady Musa 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 ’Atakah, 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 Tur, the spot being still called “Birkat Far’aun"=Pharoah’s Pool. Such also is the modern legend amongst the Arabs, who learned their lesson from the Christians (not the Jews) in the days when the Copts and the Greeks (ivth century) invented “Mount Sinai.” And the reader will do well to remember that the native annalists of Ancient Egypt, which conscientiously relate all her defeats and subjugations by the Ethiopians, Persians, etc., utterly ignore the very name of Hebrew, Sons of Israel, etc.
I cannot conceal my astonishment at finding a specialist journal like the “Quarterly Statement of the Palestine Exploration Fund” (Oct., 1887) admitting such a paper as that entitled “The Exode,” by R. F. Hutchinson, M.D. For this writer the labours of the last half-century are non-existing. Job is still the “oldest book” in the world. The Rev. Charles Forster’s absurdity, “Israel in the wilderness,” gives valuable assistance. Goshen is Mr. Chester’s Tell Fakus (not, however, far wrong in this) instead of the long depression by the Copts still called “Gesem” or “Gesemeh,” the frontier-land through which the middle course of the Suez Canal runs. “Succoth,” tabernacles, is confounded with the Arab. “Sakf” = a roof. Letopolis, the “key of the Exode,” and identified with the site where Babylon (Old Cairo) was afterwards built, is placed on the right instead of the left bank of the Nile. “Bahr Kulzum” is the “Sea of the Swallowing-up,” in lieu of The Closing. El-Tih, “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, Trubner, 1837.
[FN#198] Eastern fable runs wild upon this subject, and indeed a larger volume could be written upon the birth, life and death of Moses’ and Aaron’s rods. There is a host of legends concerning the place where the former was cut and whence it descended to the Prophet whose shepherd’s staff was the glorification of his pastoral life (the rod being its symbol) and of his future career as a ruler (and flogger) of men. In Exodus (viii. 3-10), when a miracle was required of the brothers, Aaron’s rod became a “serpent” (A.V.) or, as some prefer, a “crocodile,” an animal worshipped by certain of the Egyptians; and when the King’s magicians followed suit it swallowed up all others. Its next exploit was to turn the Nile and other waters of Egypt into blood (Exod. vii. 17). The third wonder was worked by Moses’ staff, the dividing of the Red Sea (read the Sea of Sedge or papyrus, which could never have grown in the brine of the Suez Gulf) according to the command, “Lift thou up thy rod and stretch out thine hand over the sea,” etc. (Exod. xiv. 15). The fourth adventure was when the rod, wherewith Moses smote the river, struck two blows on the rock in Horeb and caused water to come out of it (Numb. xxi. 8). Lastly the rod (this time again Aaron’s) “budded and brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds” (Numb. xvii. 7); thus becoming a testimony against the rebels: hence it was set in the Holiest of the Tabernacles (Heb. ix. 14) as a lasting memorial. I have described (Pilgrim. i. 301) the mark of Moses’ rod at the little Hammam behind the old Phoenician colony of Tur, in the miscalled “Sinaitic” Peninsula: it is large enough to act mainmast for a ship. The end of the rod or rods is unknown: it died when its work was done, and like many other things, holy and unholy, which would be priceless, e.g., the true Cross or Pilate’s sword, it remains only as a memory around which a host of grotesque superstitions have grouped themselves.
[FN#199] In this word “Hayy” the Arab. and Heb. have the advantage of our English: it means either serpent or living, alive.
[FN#200] It is nowhere said in Hebrew Holy Writ that “Pharaoh,” whoever he may have been, was drowned in the “Red Sea.”
[FN#201] Arab. “Kaml.” The Koranic legend of the Ant has, I repeat, been charmingly commented upon by Edwin Arnold in “Solomon and the Ant” (p.i., Pearls of the Faith). It seems to be a Talmudic exaggeration of the implied praise in Prov. vi. 6 and xxx. 25, “The ants are a people nto strong, yet they prepare their meat in the summer” which, by the by, proves that the Wise King could be caught tripping in his natural history, and that they did not know everything down in Judee.
[FN#202] Isa, according to the Moslems, was so far like Adam (Koran iii. 52) that he was not begotten in the normal way: in fact his was a miraculous conception. See vol. v. 238.
[FN#203] For Elias, Elijah, or Khizr, a marvellous legendary figure, see vols. iv. 175; v. 334. The worship of Helios (Apollo) is not extinct in mod. Greece where it survives under the name of Elias. So Dionysus has become St. Dionysius; Bacchus the Drunken, St. George; and Artemis, St. Artemides the healer of childhood.
[FN#204] Gesenius interprets it “Soldier of God”; the bye-name given to Jacob presently became the national name of the Twelve Tribes collectively; then it narrowed to the tribe of Judah; afterwards it became = laymen as opposed to Levites, etc., and in these days it is a polite synonym for Jew. When you want anything from any of the (self-) Chosen People you speak of him as an Israelite; when he wants anything of you, you call him a Jew, or a damned Jew, as the case may be.
[FN#205] I am not aware that there is any general history of the bell, beginning with the rattle, the gong and other primitive forms of the article; but the subject seems worthy of a monograph. In Hebrew Writ the bell first appears in Exod. xxviii. 33 as a fringe to the Ephod of the High Priest that its tinkling might save him from intruding unwarned into the bodily presence of the tribal God, Jehovah.
[FN#206] Gennesaret (Chinnereth, Cinneroth), where, according to some Moslems, the Solomon was buried.
[FN#207] I cannot explain this legend.
[FN#208] So the old English rhyme, produced for quite another purpose by Sir John Bull in “Wat Tyler’s Rebellion” (Hume, Hist. of Eng., vol. i. chapt. 17):—
“When
Adam dolve and Eve span,
Who
was then the gentleman?”
A variant occurs in a Ms. of the xvth century, Brit. Museum:—
“Now
bethink the gentleman,
How
Adam dalf and Eve span.”
And the German form is:—
“So
Adam reutte (reute) and Eva span
Wwer
was da ein Eddelman (Edelman)?”
[FN#209] Plur. of “’Usfur” = a bird, a sparrow. The etymology is characteristically Oriental and Mediaeval, reminding us of Dan Chaucer’s meaning of Cecilia “Heaven’s lily” (Susan) or “Way for the blind” (Caecus) or “Thoughts of Holiness” and lia=lasting industry; or, “Heaven and Leos” (people), so that she might be named the people’s heaven (The SEcond Nonne’s Tale).
[FN#210] i.e. “Fir is rebellious.”
[FN#211] Both of which, I may note, are not things but states, modes or conditions of things. See. vol. ix. 78.
[FN#212] “Salat” = the formal ceremonious prayer. I have noticed (vol. iv. 60) the sundry technical meanings of the term Salat, from Allah=Mercy; from Angel-kind=intercession and pardon, and from mankind=a blessing.
[FN#213] Possibly “A prayer of Moses, the man of God,” the title of the highly apocryphal Psalm xc.
[FN#214] Arab. “Libas” = clothes in general.
[FN#215] In text “Zafar” = victory. It may also be “Zifr"=alluding to the horny matter which, according to Moslem tradition, covered the bodies of “our first parents” and of which after the “original sin” nothing remained but the nails of their fingers and toes. It was only when this disappeared that they became conscious of their nudity. So says M. Houdas; but I prefer to consider the word as Zafar=plaited hair.
[FN#216] According to Al-Mas’udi (i. 86, quoting Koran xxi. 52), Abraham had already received of Allah spiritual direction or divine grace ("Rushdu ’llah” or “Al-Huda”) which made him sinless. In this opinoin of the Imamship, says my friend Prof. A. Sprenger, the historian is more fatalistic than most Sunnis.
[FN#217] Modern Moslems are all agreed in making Ishmael and not Issac the hero of this history: see my Pilgrimage (vol. iii. 306). But it was not always so. Al-Mas’udi (vol. ii. 146) quotes the lines of a Persian poet in A.H. 290 (=A.D. 902) which expressly say “Is’haku kana’l-Zabih” = Isaac was the victim, and the historian refers to this in sundry places. Yet the general idea is that Ishmael succeeded his father (as eldest son) and was succeeded by Isaac; and hence the bitter family feud between the Eastern Jews and the ARab Gentiles.
[FN#218] In text “Tajui"=lit. thou pluckest (the fruit of good deeds). M. Houdas translates Tu recueilles, mot a mot tu citeilles.
[FN#219] See note at the end of this tale.
[FN#220] Amongst the Jews the Temple of Jerusalem was a facsimile of the original built by Jehovah in the lowest heaven or that of the Moon. For the same idea (doubtless a derivation from the Talmud) amongst the Moslems concerning the heavenly Ka’abah called Bayt al-Ma’mur (the Populated House) see my Pilgrimage iii. 186, et seq.
[FN#221] i.e. there is an end of the matter.
[FN#222] In text “Massa-hu’l Fakr"=poverty touched him.
[FN#223] He had sold his father for a horse, etc., and his mother for a fine dress.
[FN#224] This enigma is in the style of Samson’s (Judges xiv. 12) of which we complain that the unfortuante Philistines did not possess the sole clue which could lead to the solution; and here anyone with a modicum of common sense would have answered, “Thou art the man!” The riddles with which the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon must have been simply hard questions somewhat like those in the text; and the relator wisely refuses to record them.
[FN#225] We should say “To eclipse the sun.”
[FN#226] A very intelligible offer.
[FN#227] Arab. “Bi Asri-hi,” lit. “rope and all;” metaphorically used=altogether, entirely: the idea is borrowed from the giving or selling of a beast with its thong, halter, chain, etc.
[FN#228] In the text, “Kahin,” a Cohen, a Jewish Priest, a soothsayer: see Al-Kahanah, vol. i. 28. In Heb. Kahana=he ministered (priests’ offices or other business) and Cohen=a priest either of the true God or of false gods.
[FN#229] This ending with its resume of contents is somewhat hors ligne, yet despite its vain repetition I think it advisable to translate it.
[FN#230] “And she called his name Moses, and she said because from the water I drew him” (Exod. ii. 10).
[FN#231] The Pharoah of the Exodus is popularly supposed by Moslems to have treated his leprosy with baths of babes’ blood, the babes being of the Banu Israil. The word “Pharoah” is not without its etymological difficulties.
[FN#232] Graetz (Geschichte i. note 7) proves that “Aram,” in the Hebrew text (Judges iii. 8), should be “Edom.”
[FN#233] I give a quadruple increase, at least 25 per centum more than the genealogies warrant.
[FN#234] Ms. pp. 505-537. This story is found in the “Turkish Tales” by Petis de la Croix who translated one fourth of the “Forty Wazirs” by an author self-termed “Shaykh Zadeh.” It is called the “History of Chec Chahabeddin” (Shaykh Shihab al-Din), 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 “Mukashafah” (thought-reading); and by “Al-Ghayb ’an al-Absar” (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’raj, with all its wealth of wild fable, is simply alluded to in a detached verses of the Koran (xvii. 1) which runs: [I declare] “The glory of Him who transported His servant by night from the Sacred Temple (of Meccah) to the Remote Temple (of Jerusalem), whose precincts we have blessed, that we might show him of our signs.” After this comes an allusion to Moses (v. 2); Mr. Gibb observes (p. 22) that this lengthening out of the seconds was a favourite with “Dervishes,” as he has shown in “The Story of Jewad ,” and suggests that the effect might have been produced by some drug like Hashish. I object to Mr. Gibb’s use of the word “Hour)” (ibid. p. 24) without warning the reader that it is an irregular formation, masculine withal for “Huriyah,” and that the Pers. “Huri,” from which the Turks borrowed their blunder, properly means “One Hur.”
[FN#235] For the Dajlah (Tigris) and Furat (Euphrates) see vols. viii. 150- ix. 17. The topothesia is worse than Shakespearean. In Weber’s Edit. of the “New Arabian Nights” (Adventures of Simoustapha, etc.), the rivers are called “Ilfara” and “Aggiala.”
[FN#236] In text “Alwan,” for which see vol. vii. 135.
[FN#237] [The word which is here translated with: “and one had said that he had laboured hard thereat (walawa’yh?) seems scarcely to bear out this meaning. I would read it “wa’l-Aw’iyah” (plur. of wi’a), rendering accordingly: “and the vessels (in which the aforesaid meats were set out) shimmered like unto silver for their cleanliness.”—St.]
[FN#238] In text “Al-Wahwah.”
[FN#239] In text, “Mutasa’lik” for “Moutasa’lik” = like a “sa’luk.”
[FN#240] For this “high-spirited Prince and noble-minded lord” see vol. ix. 229.
[FN#241] In text “Bisata-hum” = their carpets.
[FN#242] In text “Hawanit,” plur. of “Hanut” = the shop or vault of a vintner, pop. derived from the Persian Khaneh. 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. “Hanut” also means either the vintner or the vintner’s shop. The derivation because it ruins man’s property and wounds his honour is the jeu d’esprit of a moralising grammarian. Chenery’s Al-Hariri, p. 377.
[FN#243] In the Arab. “Jawakin,” plur. of Arab. Jaukan for Pers. Chaugan, a crooked stick a club, a bat used for the Persian form of golf played on horseback—Polo.
[FN#244] [The text reads “Liyah,” and lower down twice with the article “Al-Liyah” (double Lam). I therefore suspect that “Liyyah,” equivalent with “Luwwah,” is intended which both mean Aloes-wood as used for fumigation (yutabakhkharu bi-hi). For the next ingredient I would read “Kit’ah humrah,” a small quantity of red brickdust, a commodity to which, I do not know with what foundation, wonderful medicinal powers are or were ascribed. This interpretation seems to me the more preferable, as it presently appears that the last-named articles had to go into the phial, the mention of which would otherwise be to no purpose and which I take to have been finally sealed up with the sealing clay. The whole description is exceedingly loose, and evidently sorely corrupted, so I think every attempt at elucidation may be acceptable.—St.]
[FN#245] “Wa Kita’h hamrah,” which M. Houdas renders un morceau de viande cuite.
[FN#246] This is a specimen of the Islamised Mantra called in Sanskrit Stambhana and intended to procure illicit intercourse. Herklots has printed a variety of formulae which are popular throughout southern India: even in the Maldive Islands we find such “Fandita” (i.e. Panditya, the learned Science) and Mr. Bell (Journ., Ceylon Br. R. A. S. vii. 109) gives the following specimen, “Write the name of the beloved; pluck a bud of the screw-pine (here a palette de mouton), sharpen a new knife, on one side of the bud write the Surat al-Badr (chapter of Power, No. xxi., thus using the word of Allah for Satan’s purpose); on the other side write Vajahata; make an image out of the bud; indite particulars of the horoscope copy from beginning to end the Surat al-Rahman (the Compassionating, No. xlviii.);, tie the image in five places with coir left-hand-twisted (i.e. widdershins or ’against the sun’); cut the throat of a blood-sucker (lizard); smear its blood on the image; place it in a loft, dry it for three days, then take it and enter the sea. If you go in knee deep the woman will send you a message; if you go in to the waist she will visit you.” (The Voyage of Francois Pyrard, etc., p. 179.) I hold all these charms to be mere instruments for concentrating and intensifying the brain action called Will, which is and which presently will be recognised as the chief motor-power. See Suppl. vol. iii.
[FN#247] Probably the name of some Prince of the Jinns.
[FN#248] In text “Kama zukira fi Dayli-h” = arrange-toi de facon a l’atteindre (Houdas).
[FN#249] Proverbial for its depth: Kashan is the name of sundry cities; here one in the Jibal or Irak ’Ajami—Persian Mesopotamia.
[FN#250] Doubtless meaning Christians.
[FN#251] The Sage had summoned her by the preceding spell which the Princess obeyed involuntarily.
[FN#252] i.e., last night, see vol. iii. 249.
[FN#253] In text “Wuldan” = “Ghilman”: the boys of Paradise; for whom and their feminine counterparts the Hur (Al-Ayn) see vols. i. 90, 211; iii. 233.
[FN#254] Arab. “Dukhn” = Holcus dochna, a well-known grain, a congener of the Zurrah or Durrah = Holcus Sativus, Forsk. cxxiii. The incident is not new. In “Des blaue Licht,” a Mecklenburg tale given by Grimm, the King’s daughter who is borne through the air to the soldier’s room is told by her father to fill her pocket with peas and make a hole therein; but the sole result was that the pigeons had a rare feast. See Suppl. vol. iii. 375.
[FN#255] i.e., a martyr of love. See vols. iii. 211; i-iv. 205.
[FN#256] In the text “Ka’ka’”; hence the higher parts of Meccah, inhabited by the Jurham tribe, was called “Jabal Ka’ka’an,” from their clashing arms (Pilgrimage iii. 191).
[FN#257] This was the work of the form of magic popularly known as Simiya = fascination, for which see vol. i. 305, 332. It is supposed to pass away after a period of three days, and mesmerists will find no difficulty in recognising a common effect upon “Odylic sensitives.”
[FN#258] Here supply the Ms. with “illa.”
[FN#259] In text “tatadakhkhal’alay-h:” see “Dakhil-ak,” vol. i. 61.
[FN#260] Or “he”: the verb may also refer to the Sage.
[FN#261] Arab. “Kazafa” = threw up, etc.
[FN#262] This, in the case of the Wazir, was a transformation for the worse: see vol. vii. 294, for the different kinds of metamorphosis.
[FN#263] i.e. my high fortune ending in the lowest.
[FN#264] In text “Bakar” = black cattle, whether bull, ox or cow. For ploughing with bulls.
[FN#265] In text “Mukrif” = lit. born of a slave father and free mother.
[FN#266] In text “Antum fi khashin wa bash,” an error for “khash-mash” = a miserable condition.
[FN#267] In text “yatbashsh” for “yanbashsha.” [Or it may stand for yabtashsh, with transpositions of the “t” of the eighth form, as usual in Egypt. See Spitta-Bey’s Grammar, p. 198.— St.]
[FN#268] “Jananan,” 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 “Jinanan,” accusative of “Jinan,” which is the broken plural of “Jannah,” along with the regular plural “Jannat,” and, like the latter, used for the gardens of Paradise.—St.]
[FN#269] For this name of the capital of Eastern Arabia see vols. i. 33, vii. 24.
[FN#270] “To be” is the Anglo-Oriental form of “Thaub” = in Arabia a loose robe like a nightgown. See ii. 206.
[FN#271] The good old Mosaic theory of retribution confined to this life, and the belief that Fate is the fruit of man’s action.
[FN#272] Arab. “Sandarusah” = red juniper gum (Thuja articulata of Barbary), red arsenic realgar, from the Pers. Sandar = amber.
[FN#273] MSS. pp. 718-724. This fable, whose moral is that the biter is often bit, seems unknown to AEsop and the compilation which bore his name during the so-called Dark Ages. It first occurs in the old French metrical Roman de Renart entitled, Si comme Renart prist Chanticler le Coq (ea. Meon, tom. i. 49). It is then found in the collection of fables by Marie, a French poetess whose Lais are still extant; and she declares to have rendered it de l’Anglois en Roman; the original being an Anglo-Saxon version of AEsop 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 AEsop there is in Ms. a Latin AEsop containing the same story of an English version by Rex Angliae Affrus. Marie’s fable is printed in extenso in the Chaucer of Dr. Morris (i. 247); London, Bell and Sons, 1880; and sundry lines remind us of the Arabic, e.g.:—
Li
gupil volt parler en haut,
Et
li cocs de sa buche saut,
Sur
un haut fust s’est muntez.
And it ends with the excellent moral:—
Ceo
funt li fol tut le plusur,
Parolent
quant deivent taiser,
Teisent
quant il deivent parler.
Lastly the Gentil Cok hight Chanticlere and the Fox, Dan Russel, a more accidented tale, appears in “The Nonne Preestes Tale,” by the Grand Traducteur.
[FN#274] “Dura” in Ms. (p. 718) for “Zura,” the classical term, or for “Zurrah,” pop. pronounced “Durrah"=the Holcus Sativus before noticed, an African as well as Asiatic growth, now being supplanted by maize and rice.
[FN#275] “Sa’alab” or “Tha’lab”: vol. iii. 132.
[FN#276] In text “Kikan,” plur. of “Kiik” =des corneilles (Houdas).
[FN#277] “Samman” or “Summan,” classically “Salwa.”
[FN#278] In text “Al-Kawani"=the spears, plur. of “Kanat.” ["Al-Kawani” as plural of a singular “Kanat"=spear would be, I think, without analogy amongst the plural formations, and its translation by “punishment” appears somewhat strained. I propose to read “al-Ghawani” and to translate “and whoever lags behind of the singing birds will not be safe” ("la yaslimu,” it will not go well with him). In the mouth of the fox this implies a delicate compliment for the cock, who might feel flattered to be numbered amongst the same tribe with the nightingale and the thrush.—St.]
[FN#279] In text “ya zayn” =Oh, the beautiful beast!
[FN#280] In text “Abu Sahih"=(flight to) a sure and safe place.
[FN#281] Ms. pp. 725-739.
[FN#282] Arab. “Zabit,” from “Zabt"=keeping in subjection, holding tight, tying. Hence “Zabtiyah” = a constable and “Zabit” = a Prefect of Police. See vol. i. 259. The rhyming words are “Rabit” and “Habit.”
[FN#283] In text “Rahib” = monk or lion.
[FN#284] The lines are wholly corrupt.
[FN#285] The “Bahalul” of D’Herbelot. This worthy was a half-witted Sage (like the Iourodivi of Russia and the Irish Omadhaun), who occupies his own place in contemporary histories flourished under Harun al-Rashid and still is famous in Persian Story. When the Caliph married him perforce and all the ceremonies were duly performed and he was bedded with the bride, he applied his ear to her privities and forthwith ran away with the utmost speed and alarm. They brought him back and questioned him concerning his conduct when he made answer, " If you had only heard what it said to me you would have done likewise.” In the text his conduct is selfish and ignoble as that of Honorius
“Who strove to merit heaven by making earth a hell.”
And he shows himself heartless and unhuman as the wretched St. Alexius of the Gesta Romanorum (Tale xv.), a warning of the intense selfishness solemnly and logically inculcated by Christianity. See vol. v. 150.
[FN#286] Koran, ch. li. v. 17.
[FN#287] Koran xx. 57: it is the famous “Ta-Ha” whose first 14-16 verses are said to have converted the hard-headed Omar. In the text the citation is garbled and imperfect.
[FN#288] In text “Mas’h.”
[FN#289] “Hisaban tawil” = a long punishment.
[FN#290] The rod of Moses (see pp. 76-77) is the great prototype in Al-Islam of the staff or walking stick, hence it became a common symbol of dignity and it also served to administer ready chastisement, e.g. in the hands of austere Caliph Omar.
[FN#291] An onomatopy like “Couic, Couic.” For “Maksah,” read “Fa-saha” = and cried out.
[FN#292] “Zindik” = Atheist, Agnostic: see vols. v. 230; viii. 27.
[FN#293] “Harisah” = 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 Sikbaj, the Persian Sikba, so entitled because it is the principal dish set before guests and was held to be royal food. (Chenery pp. 218, 457.) For the latter see infra.
[FN#294] This passage in the Ms. (p. 733) is apparently corrupt. I have done my best to make sense of it.
[FN#295] In text " Kamburisiyah.”
[FN#296] In the Dicts. a plant with acid flavour, dried, pounded and peppered over meat.
[FN#297] In text “Najas” = a pear.
[FN#298] “Tutmajiyah” for “Tutmaj.”
[FN#299] “Sikbaj,” a marinated stew like “Zirbajah” (vol. iii. 278): Khusrau Parwez, according to the historians, was the first for whom it was cooked and none ate of it without his permission. See retro.
[FN#300] Kishk=ground wheat, oatmeal or barley-flour eaten with soured sheep’s milk and often with meat.
[FN#301] So in text: I suspect for “’Ajinniyah” = a dish of dough.
[FN#302] The Golden Calf is alluded to in many Koranic passages, e.g. Surah ii. (the Cow) 48; vii. (Al-Aaraf) 146; S. Iiv. (Woman) 152; but especially in S. xx. (Ta Ha) 90, where Samiri is expressly mentioned. Most Christian commentators translate this by “Samaritan” and unjustly note it as " a grievous ignorance of history on the part of Mohammed.” But the word is mysterious and not explained. R. Jehuda (followed by Geiger) says upon the text (Exod. xxxii. 24), “The calf came forth lowing and the Israelites beheld it”; also that “Samael entered into it and lowed in order to mislead Israel” (Pirke R. Eliezer, 45). Many Moslems identify Samiri with Micha (Judges xvii.), who is said to have assisted in making the calf (Raschi, Sanhedr. cii. 2; Hottinger, Hist. Orient. p. 84). Selden (de Diis Syr. Syn. 1. cap.4) supposes that Samiri is Aaron himself, the Shomeer or keeper of Israel during the absence of Moses. Mr. Rodwell (Koran, 2nd Edit. p. 90) who cleaves to the " Samaritan” theory, writes, " It is probable (?) that the name and its application, in the present instance, is to be traced to the old national feud between the Jews and the Samaritans”—of which Mohammed, living amongst the Jews, would be at least as well informed as any modern European. He quotes De Sacy (Chrest. i. 189) who states that Abu Rayhan Mohammed Biruni represents the Samaritans as being nicknamed (not Al-limsahsit as Mr. Rodwell has it, but) “La Mesas” or “La Mesasiyah” = the people who say “no touch” (i.e. touch me not, from Surah xx. 97), and Juynboll, Chron. Sam. p. 113 (Leid. 1848). Josephus (Ant. xii. cap. 1) also mentions a colony of Samaritans settled in Egypt by Ptolemy Lagus, some of whose descendants 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 Nablus where the colony has been reduced by intermarriage of cousins and the consequent greater number of male births to about 120 souls. They are, like the Shi’ah Moslems, careful to guard against ceremonial pollution: hence the epithet “Noli me tangere.”
[FN#303] Alluding to the “Sayyad,” lit. = a fisherman.
[FN#304] In text “Al-Zahr.”
[FN#305] “Ajdar.”
[FN#306] In text “Al-Malaya.”
[FN#307] In text “Sinaubar,” which may also mean pistachio-tree.
[FN#308] i.e. 475 to 478 Eng. grains avoir., less than the Ukiyyah or Wukiyyah=ounce = 571.5 to 576 grains. Vol. ix. 216.
[FN#309] Not more absurd than an operatic hero singing while he dies.
[FN#310] Ms. pp. 588-627. In Gauttier’s edit. vii. (234-256), it appears as Histoire de l’Habitant de Damas. His advertisement in the beginning of vol. vii. tells us that it has been printed in previous edits., but greatly improved in his; however that may be, the performance is below contempt. In Heron it becomes The power of destiny, or Story of the Journey of Giafar to Damascus, comprehending the adventures of Chebib and his Family (Vol. i. Pp. 69-175).
[FN#311] Damascus-city (for which see the tale of Nur al-Din Ali and his Son, The Nights, vol. i. 239-240) derives its name from Dimishk who was son of Batir, i. Malik, i. Arphaxed, i. Sham, i. Nuh (Noah); or son of Nimrod, son of Canaan. Sham = 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 “Sham” because it is the “Shamat” cheek-mole (beauty-spot) of Allah upon earth. “Jalak” the older name of the “Smile of the Prophet,” is also noted: see vol. ii. 109.
[FN#312] Hatim of the Tayy-tribe, proverbial for liberality. See vols. iv. 95, and vii. 350.
[FN#313] In Mr. Cotheal’s Ms. the Caliph first laughs until he falls backwards, and then after reading further, weeps until his beard in bathed.
[FN#314] Heron inserts into his text, “It proved to be a Giaffer, famous throughout all Arabia,” and informs us (?) in a foot-note that it is “Ascribed to a prince of the Barmecide race, an ancestor of the Gran Vizier Giafar.” The word “Jafr” is supposed to mean a skin (camel’s or dog’s), prepared as parchment for writing; and Al-Jafr, the book here in question, is described as a cabalistic prognostication of all that will ever happen to the Moslems. The authorship is attributed to Ali, son-in-law of the Prophet. There are many legendary tales concerning its contents; however, all are mere inventions as the book is supposed to be kept in the Prophet’s family, nor will it be fully explained until the Mahdi or Forerunner of Doomsday shall interpret its difficulties. The vulgar Moslems of India are apt to confuse Al-Jafr with Ja’afar bin Tayyar, 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 Jami’a) under the articles “Ali” and “Gefru Giame.”
[FN#315] The father (whom Heron calls “Hichia Barmaki”) spoke not at random, but guessed that the Caliph had been reading the book Al-Jafr.
[FN#316] Heron calls Ja’afar’s wife “Fatme” from the French.
[FN#317] This is the open grassy space on the left bank of the Baradah River, first sighted by travellers coming from Bayrut. See vol. i. 234, where it is called Al-Hasa = the Plain of Pebbles.
[FN#318] Heron names him Chebib (Habib) also “Xakem Tai-Chebib” = Hatim Tayy Habib.
[FN#319] The scene is described at full length in the Cotheal Ms. with much poetry sung by a fair slave-girl and others.
[FN#320] Again showing the date of the tale to be modern. See my Terminal Essay, p. 85.
[FN#321] This might serve even in these days to ask a worshipful guest why he came, and what was his business—it is the address of a well-bred man to a stranger of whose rank and station he is ignorant. The vulgar would simply say, “Who art thou, and what is thy native country?”
[FN#322] In Heron the host learns everything by the book Al-Jafr.
[FN#323] In text “Muzawwa” which the Egyptian pronounces “Mugawwaz.”
[FN#324] Which would be necessary after car. cop. with his women.
[FN#325] In text “Kabr al-Sitt,” wherein the Sitt Zaynab, aunt to Mohammed, is supposed to lie buried. Here the cultivation begins about half a mile’s ride from the Bab-al-Shaghur or S. Western gate of the city. It is mentioned by Baedeker (p. 439), and ignored by Murray, whose editor, Mr. Missionary Porter, prefers to administer the usual dainty dish of “hashed Bible.”
[FN#326] Arab. “Jami’ al-Amawi”: 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.
[FN#327] M. houdas trasnlates “Tarz,” “Markaz” or “Mirkaz” by Un pierrre en forme de dame, instrument qui sert a enfoncer les paves (= our “beetle"); c’est-a-dire en form de borne.
[FN#328] For this “window-gardening,” an ancient practice in the East, see vol. i. 301.
[FN#329] Heron calls her “Negemet-il-Souper” = Najmat al-Sabah = Constellation of Morn. In the Cotheal Ms. she uses very harsh language to the stranger, “O Bull (i.e. O stupid), this be not thy house nor yet the house of thy sire,” etc.; “go forth to the curse of God and get thee to Hell,” etc.
[FN#330] For “Kayf” = joy, the pleasure of living, see my Pligrimage i. 12-13.
[FN#331] In text, “’Ayyik,” or “’Ayyuk” = a hinderer (of disease) from ’Ayk or ’Auk, whence also ’Ayyuk = Capella, a bright star proverbial for its altitude, as in the Turk, saw “to give praise to the ’Ayyuk” = skies.
[FN#332] Auspicious formulae. The Cotheal Ms. calls the physician “Dubdihkan.”
[FN#333] In text “Kullu Shayyin li mu’as’as”; the latter from “’As’as” = to complicate a matter.
[FN#334] A sign that he diagnosed a moral not a bodily disorder. We often find in The Nights, the doctor or the old woman distinguishing a love-fit by the pulse or similar obscure symptoms, as in the case of Seleucus, Stratonice and her step-son Antiochus—which seems to be the arch-type of these anecdotes.
[FN#335] Arab. “Kirsh,” before explained; in Harun’s day = 3 francs.
[FN#336] In the Cotheal Ms. the recipe occupies a whole page of ludicrous items, e.g. Let him take three Miskals of pure “Union-with-the-lover,” etc.
[FN#337] In the Cotheal Ms. Attaf seeks his paternal uncle and father-in-law with the information that he is going to the Pilgrimage and Visitation.
[FN#338] Called in the old translation or rather adaptation “Scheffander-Hassan” or simply “Scheffander” = Shahbandar Hasan, for which see vol. iv. 29. In the Cotheal Ms. (p. 33) he becomes the “Emir Omar, and the Basha of Damascus” (p. 39).
[FN#339] The passage is exceedingly misspelt. “Amma min Mayli Binti-ka shashi Ana Aswadu (for Shashi M. Houdas reads “Jashi” = my heart) Wa Tana (read “Thana,” reputation) Binti-ka abyazu min Shashi.”
[FN#340] One of the formulae of divorce.
[FN#341] In text “Muabalar min Shaani-ka.” M. Houdas reads the first word “Muzabal” = zublan, wearied, flaccid, weak.
[FN#342] For “Al-’iddah,” in the case of a divorcee three lunar months, for a widow four months and ten days and for a pregnant woman, the interval until her delivery, see vols. iii. 292; vi. 256; and x. 43: also Lane (M.E.) chap. iii.
[FN#343] In text “Alfi (4th form of ‘Lafw’) Hajatan,” the reading is that of M. Houdas; and the meaning would be “what dost thou want (in the way of amusement)? I am at thy disposal.”
[FN#344] Heron has here interpolated an adventure with a Bazar-cook and another with a Confectioner: both discover Ja’afar also by a copy of the “Giaffer” (Al-Jafr). These again are followed by an episode with a fisherman who draws in a miraculous draught by pronouncing the letters “Gim. Bi. Ouaow” (waw = J. B. W.), i.e. Ja’afar, Barmecide, Wazir; and discovers the Minister by a geomantic table. Then three Darvishes meet and discourse anent the virtues of “Chebib” (i.e. Attaf); and lastly come two blind men, the elder named Benphises, whose wife having studied occultism and the Dom-Daniel of Tunis, discovers Ja’afar. All this is to marshal the series of marvels and wonders upon wonders predicted to Ja’afar by his father when commanding him to visit Damascus; and I have neither space nor inclination to notice their enormous absurdities.
[FN#345] This Governor must not be confounded with the virtuous and parsimonious Caliph of the same name the tenth of the series (reign A.D. 692-705) who before ruling studied theology at Al-Medinah and won the sobriquet of “Mosque-pigeon.” After his accession he closed the Koran saying, “Here you and I part,” and busied himself wholly with mundane matters. The Cotheal Ms. mentions only the “Nabob” (Naib = lieutenant) of Syria.
[FN#346] “Kapu” (written and pronounced Kapi in Turk.) is a door, a house or a government office and Kapuji = a porter; Kapuji-bashi = head porter; also a chamberlain in Arab. “Hajib”; and Kapu Katkhudasi (pron. Kapi-Kyayasi) = the agent which every Governor is obliged to keep at Constantinople.
[FN#347] In text “Al-buyurdi,” clerical error for “Buyuruldi” (pron. Buyuruldu) = the written order of a Governor.
[FN#348] “Al-Yamaklak” = vivers, provaunt; from the T. “Yamak” = food, a meal.
[FN#349] Meaning that he waived his right to it.
[FN#350] In text “Zawadah” (gen. “Azwad” or “Azwi’dah”) = provisions, viaticum.
[FN#351] In text “Takhtrawun”; see vols. ii. 180; v. 175. In the Cotheal Ms. it is a “Haudaj” = camel-litter (vol. viii. 235).
[FN#352] “Kubbat al-’Asafir,” now represented by the “Khan al-Asafir,” on the road from Damascus to Palmyra, about four hours’ ride from and to the N. East of the Bab Tuma or N. Eastern gate. The name is found in Baedeker (p. 541). In the C. Ms. it becomes the “Thaniyyat al-’Ukab” = the Vulture’s Pass.
[FN#353] Meaning that Attaf had not the heart to see his cousin-wife leave her home.
[FN#354] Written in Turkish fashion with the Jim (j) and three dots instead of one. This Persian letter is still preserved in the Arabic alphabets of Marocco, Algiers, etc.
[FN#355] In Arab. “Jinn” = spirit or energy of a man, which here corresponds with the Heb. “Aub”; so in the Hamasah the poet says, “My Jinn have not fled; my life is not blunted; my birds never drooped for fear,” where, say commentators, the Arabs compare an energetic man with a Jinni or Shaytan. So the Prophet declared of Omar, “I never saw such an ’Abkari amongst men,” ’Abkar, in Yamamah, like Yabrin and Wabar 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.
[FN#356] In the C. Ms. it is an Emir of the Emirs.
[FN#357] Arab. “Tabah.”
[FN#358] This excellent episode is omitted in the C. Ms. where Attaf simply breaks gaol and reaching Aleppo joins a caravan to Baghdad.
[FN#359] In text “Katalu-ni”: see vols. v. 5; vi. 171.
[FN#360] In the C. Ms. he enters a mosque and finds a Ja’idi (vagabond) who opens his bag and draws out a loaf, a roast food, lemons, olives, cucumbers and date-cake, which suggest to Attaf, who had not eaten such things for a month, “the table of Isa bin Maryam.” For the rest see Mr. Cotheal’s version.
[FN#361] The C. Ms. gives the short note in full.
[FN#362] In text “al-Towab,” Arab. plur. of the Persian and Turk. “Top.” We hardly expected to find ordinance in the age of Harun al-Rashid, although according to Milton they date before the days of Adam.
[FN#363] M. Houdas would read for “Alhy Tys” in the text “Tuha Tays” a general feast; “Tuha” = cooked meat and “Tays” = myriads of.
[FN#364] M. Houdas translates les injures devancerent les compliments, an idiom = he did not succeed in his design.
[FN#365] “Cousin” being more polite than “wife”: see vols. vi. 145; ix. 225.
[FN#366] Les vertebres ont fait bourrelet, says M. Houdas who adds that “Shakban” is the end of a cloth, gown, or cloak, which is thrown over the shoulders and serves, like the “Jayb” in front, to carry small parcels, herbs, etc.
[FN#367] In the local Min jargon, the language of Fellahs, “Addiki” = I will give thee.
[FN#368] In text “Min al-’An wa sa’idan;” lit. = from this moment upwards.
[FN#369] “Tarajjum” taking refuge from Satan the Stone (Rajim). See vol. iv. 242.
[FN#370] i.e. a descenant of Al-Hashim, great-grandfather of the Prophet. See ix. 24.
[FN#371] In text “Shobasi,” for “Sobashi” which M. Houdas translates prevot du Palais.
[FN#372] In the C. Ms. Attaf’s head was to be cut off.
[FN#373] In the C. Ms. the anagnorisis is much more detailed. Ja’afar asks Attaf if he knew a Damascus-man Attaf hight and so forth; and lastly an old man comes forward and confesses to have slain the Sharif or Hashimi.
[FN#374] The drink before the meal, as is still the custom in Syria and Egypt. See vol. vii. 132.
[FN#375] Gauttier (vii. 256), illustrating the sudden rise of low-caste and uneducated men to high degree, quotes a contemporary celebrity, the famous Mirza Mohammed Husayn Khan who, originally a Bakkal or greengrocer, was made premier of Fath Ali Shah’s brilliant court, the last bright flash of Iranian splendour and autocracy. But Iran is a land upon which Nature has inscribed “Resurgam”; and despite her present abnormal position between two vast overshadowing empires—British India and Russia in Asia—she has still a part to play in history. And I may again note that Al-Islam is based upon the fundamental idea of a Republic which is, all (free) men are equal, and the lowest may aspire to the highest dignity.
[FN#376] In text “’Aramrami.”
[FN#377] “Wa’llaha ’l-Muwaffiku ’l-Mu’in” = God prospereth and directeth, a formula often prefixed or suffixed to a book.
[FN#378] Ms. pp. 628-685. Gauttier, vii. 64-90; Histoire du Prince Habib et de la Princesse Dorrat-el-Gawas. The English translation dubs it “Story of Habib and Dorathil-goase, or the Arabian Knight” (vol. iii. 219-89); and thus degrades the high sounding name to a fair echo of Dorothy Goose. The name = Pearl of the Diver: it is also the P.N. of a treatise on desinental syntax by the grammarian-poet Al-Hariri (Chenery, p. 539).
[FN#379] The “Banu Hilal,” 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 “Bani” for “Banu”.
[FN#380] Gauttier (vii. 64) clean omits the former Emir because he has nothing to do with the tale. In Heron it is the same, and the second chief is named “Emir-Ben-Hilac-Salamis”; or for shortness tout bonnement “Salamis”; and his wife becoming Amirala which, if it mean anything, is = Colonel, or Captain R. N.
[FN#381] ie. Moon of the Nobles.
[FN#382] = the Beloved, le bien-aime.
[FN#383] As has been seen Gauttier reduces the title to “Prince.” Amongst Arabs, however, it is not only a name proper but may denote any dignity from a Shaykh to a Sultan rightly so termed.
[FN#384] For the seven handwritings see vol. iv. 196. The old English version says, “He learned the art of writing with pens cut in seven different ways.” To give an idea of the style it renders the quatrain:—“Father,” said the youth, “you must apply to my master, to give you the information you desire. As for me, I must long be all eye and all ear. I must learn to use my hand, before I begin to exercise my tongue, and to write my letters as pure as pearls from the water.” And this is translation!
[FN#385] I need hardly note that “Voices from the other world” are a lieu commun of so-called Spiritualism. See also vol. i. 142 and Suppl. Vol. iii.
[FN#386] This tale and most of those in the Ms. affect the Ka1a ’l-Rawi (= quoth the reciter) showing the true use of them. See Terminal Essay, vol. x. 144.
[FN#387] The missing apodosis would be, “You would understand the cause of my weeping.”
[FN#388] In the text there are only five lines. I have borrowed the sixth from the prose.
[FN#389] “Daud” = David: see vols. ii. 286; vi. 113.
[FN#390] For “Samhari” see vol. iv. 258.
[FN#391] From “Rudaynah,” either a woman or a place: see vols. ii. 1; vii. 265; and for “Khatt Hajar” vol. ii. 1.
[FN#392] This is the idiomatic meaning of the Arab word “Nizal” = dismounting to fight on foot.
[FN#393] In the text “Akyal,” plur. of “Kayl” = Kings of the Himyarite peoples. See vol. vii. 60; here it is = the hero, the heroes.
[FN#394] An intensive word, “on the weight,” as the Arabs say of ’Abbas (stern-faced) and meaning “Very stern-faced, austere, grim.” In the older translations it becomes “Il Haboul”—utterly meaningless.
[FN#395] The Arab. “Moon of the Time” becomes in the olden versions “Camaulzaman,” which means, if anything, “Complete Time,” and she is the daughter of a Jinn-King “Illabousatrous (Al-’Atrus?).” He married her to a potent monarch named “Shah-Goase” (Shah Ghawwas=King Diver), in this version “Sabur” (Shahpur), and by him Kamar Al-Zaman became the mother of Durrat al-Ghawwas.
[FN#396] In text “Sadat wa Ashraf:” for the technical meaning of “Sayyid” and “Sharif” see vols. iv. 170; v. 259.
[FN#397] Gauttier, vii. 71. Les Isles Bellour. see vol. iii. 194.
[FN#398] Heron’s “Illabousatrous"(?).
[FN#399] In text “Zayjah,” from Pers. “Zaycheh” = lit. a horoscope, a table for calculating nativities and so forth. In page 682 of the Ms. the word is used = marriage-lines.
[FN#400] In text “Snsal,” for “Salsal " = lit. chain.
[FN#401] In Sindbad the Seaman I have shown that riding men as asses is a facetious exaggeration of an African practice, the Minister being generally the beast of burden for the King. It was the same in the Maldive Islands. “As soon as the lord desires to land, one of the rhief Catibes (Arab. Khatib = a preacher, not Katib = 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 Machhi (fish) from the Sanskrit Matsya.
[FN#402] In text “Ghayth al-Hatil = incessant rain of small drops and widely dispread. In Arab. the names for clouds, rain and all such matters important to a pastoral race are well nigh innumerable. Poetry has seized upon the material terms and has converted them into a host of metaphors; for “the genius of the Arabic language, like that of the Hebrew, is to form new ideas by giving a metaphorical signification to material objects (e.g. ’Azud, lit. the upper arm; met. a helper).” Chenery, p. 380.
[FN#403] In the text “To the palace:” the scribe, apparently forgetting that he is describing Badawi life, lapses at times into “decorating the capital” and “adorning the mansion,” as if treating of the normal city-life. I have not followed his example.
[FN#404] Heron translates “A massy cuirass of Haoudi.”
[FN#405] In text, “Inbasata ’l-Layl al-Asa,” which M. Houdas renders et s’etendit la nuit (mere) de la tristesse.
[FN#406] “Rauzah” in Algiers is a royal park; also a prairie, as “Rauz al-Sanajirah,” plain of the Sinjars: Ibn Khaldun, ii. 448.
[FN#407] The “Miskal” (for which see vols. i. 126; ix. 262) is the weight of a dinar = 1« 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 Nao Mall of Multan, the Sind Camel Corps was expected to march at the rate of some 50 miles a day, and this was done by making the animals more than half drunk with Bhang or Indian hemp.
[FN#408] In text, “Yakhat,” probably clerical error for “Yakhbut,” lit. = he was panting in a state of unconsciousness: see Dozy, Suppl. s. v.
[FN#409] In text “Al-Dan, which is I presume a clerical error for “Al-Uzn” = ear. ["Dan,” with the dual “Danayn,” and “Wudn,” with the plural “Audan,” are popular forms for the literary “Uzn."- -St.]
[FN#410] This name has occurred in Ms. p. 655, but it is a mere nonentity until p. 657—the normal incuriousness. Heron dubs him “Rabir.”
[FN#411] In the text “Zimmat” = obligation, protection, clientship.
[FN#412] “Sahha ’alakah” (=a something) “fi haza ’l-Amri.” The first word appears de trop being enclosed in brackets in the Ms.
[FN#413] “Wa yabki ’alaykum Mabalu-h.” [For “Mabal” I would read “Wabal,” in the sense of crime or punishment, and translate: “lest the guilt of it rest upon you.”—St.)
[FN#414] In the text “Suwayda” literally “a small and blackish woman”; and “Suwayda al-Kalb” (the black one of the heart) = original sin, as we should say. [The diminutive of “Sayyid” would be “Suwayyid,” as “Kuwayyis” from “Kayyis,” and “Juwayyid” from “Jayyid” (comp. supra p. 3). “Suwayd” and “Suwayda” are diminutives of “Aswad,” black, and its fem. “Sauda” respectively, meaning blackish. The former occurs in “Umm al-Suwayd” = anus. “Suwayda al-Kalb” = the blackish drop of clotted blood in the heart, is synonymous with “Habbat al-Kalb” = the grain in the heart, and corresponds to our core of the heart. Metaphorically both are used for “original sin.”—St.]
[FN#415] “Yakah Thiyabish;” the former word being Turkish (M. Houdas).
[FN#416] Arab. “Kaunayn” = the two entities, this world and the other world, the past and the future, etc. Here it is opposed to “’A’lamina,” here ’Awalim = the (three) worlds, for which see vol. ii. 236.
[FN#417] In text “Changul,” again written with a three-dotted Chim.
[FN#418] In text “Al-Mazrab” which M. Houdas translates cet endroit.
[FN#419] In text “Yabahh” = saying “Bah, Bah!”
[FN#420] In text “Bahr al-Azrak” = the Blue Sea, commonly applied to the Mediterranean: the origin of the epithet is readily understood by one who has seen the Atlantic or the Black Sea.
[FN#421] i.e. “The Stubborn,” “The Obstinate.”
[FN#422] In text “Al-Jawadit,” where M. Houdas would read “Al-Hawadith” which he renders by animaux fraichement tues.
[FN#423] In the text “Kabad” = the liver, the sky-vault, the handle or grasp of a bow.
[FN#424] In the text “Mina” = a port both in old Egyptian and mod. Persian: see “Mitrahinna,” vol. ii. 257.
[FN#425] “Al-Nakair,” plur. of “Nakir” = a dinghy, a dug-out.
[FN#426] For this “Pa-andaz,” as the Persians call it, see vol. iii. 141.
[FN#427] In text “Kataba Zayjata-ha,” the word has before been noticed.
[FN#428] Again “Hiza bi-Zayjati-ha” = le bonheur de ses aventures.
[FN#429] This impalement ("Salb,” which elsewhere means crucifying, vol. iii. 25) may be a barbarous punishment but it is highly cffective, which after all is its principal object. Old Mohammed Ali of Egypt never could have subjugated and disciplined the ferocious Badawi of Al-Asir, the Ophir region South of Al-Hijaz, 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
[FN#430] Archaeological Review, July, 1888, pp. 331-342.
[FN#431] The proper names are overrun with accents and diaeretical points, of which I have here retained but few.
[FN#432] Particularly mentioning Syntipas, the Forty Vizirs, a Turkish romance relating to Alexander, in 120 volumes; and Mohammed al-’Aufi.
[FN#433] Probably similar to those described in the story of the Warlock and the Cook (antea, pp. 106-112)
[FN#434] The last clause is very short and obscure in the French “qu’il n’a pas son satire,” but what follows shows the real meaning to be that given above. (W. F. K.)
[FN#435] This I take to be the meaning of the words, “une autre monde sous la terre par sept fois.” (W.F.K.)
[FN#436] Galland writes “on fait un jeu de Giret (tournoi), etc.” (W. F. K.)
[FN#437] Perhaps an error of Galland’s. (W. F. K.)
[FN#438] I do not know the German edition referred to.
[FN#439] This great class of tales is quite as widely extended in the north of Europe and Asia, as in the south. We meet with them in Siberia, and they are particularly common in Lapland I believe, too, that the Indian story of the Red Swan (referred to by Longfellow, Hiawatha xii.) is only a Swan Maiden legend in a rather modified form. As usual, we find a bizarre form of the Swan Maiden story among the Samoghitians of Lithuania. The Zemyne is a one eyed venomous snake, with black blood which cures all diseases and neutralises all magic. It is an enchanted maiden; and sometimes the skin has been stolen, and she has reamed a man. But if she recovers her skin, she resumes her snake-form, and bites and kills her husband and children. Many other strange things are related of the Zemyne (Veckenstedt, Mythen, Sagen, und Legenden der Zamaiten, ii., pp. 149-152).]
[FN#440] About twenty pounds.
[FN#441] Spitta Bey (p. 27 note) suggests that this is a reminiscence of the ancient Egyptian idea of the Scarabaeus which typifies life.
[FN#442] Southey, in his story of the Young Dragon, relates how Satan, disapproving of the rapid conversion of the inhabitants of Antioch to Christianity, laid an egg, and hatched out a dragon, which he sent to destroy the inhabitants. But a Pagan whose Christian daughter was devoted to the dragon by lot, stole the thumb from a relic (the hand of John the Baptist), as he pretended to kiss it, and cast it into the mouth of the dragon, and blew him up.
[FN#443] This is a variant of the Nose-Tree; I do not remember another in genuine Oriental literature (cf. Nights, x., app., p. 449).]
[FN#444] How small the world becomes in this story!
[FN#445] It is evident that a young she-bear is all that is meant.
[FN#446]These Vigilants and Purifiers, with that hypocritical severity which ever makes the worst sinner in private the most rigorous judge in public, lately had the imprudent impudence to summons a publisher who had reprinted the Decameron with the “objectionable passages” in French. Mr. Alderman Faudell Phillips had the good sense contemptuously to dismiss the summons. Englishmen are no longer what they were if they continue to tolerate this Ignoble espionnage of Vicious and prurient virtuous “Associations.” If they mean real work why do they commence by condemning scholar-like works, instead of cleansing the many foul cesspools of active vice which are a public disgrace to London.
[FN#447] It may serve the home-artist and the home-reader to point out a few of the most erroneous The harp (i. 143) is the Irish and not the Eastern, yet the latter has been shown In i. 228; and the “Kanun " (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 Arsinoe, 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.”
I have carefully noted these lapses and incongruities: not the less, however, I thoroughly appreciate the general excellence of the workmanship, and especially the imaginative scenery and the architectural designs of Mr. W. Harvey. He has shown the world how a work of the kind should be illustrated, and those who would surpass him have only to avoid the minor details here noticed.
[FN#448] See in M. Zotenberg’s “Ala al-Din” the text generally; also p. 14.
[FN#449] Mr. Payne, in his Essay, vol. ix., 281, computes less than two hundred tales in all omitting the numerous incidentals; and he notices that the number corresponds with the sum of the “Night-stories” attributed to the Hazar Afsan by the learned author of the “Fihrist” (see Terminal Essay, vol. x. pp. 70). In p. 367 (ibid.) he assumes the total at 264.
[FN#450] This parlous personage thought proper to fall foul of me (wholly unprovoked) in the Athenaeum of August 25, ’88. I give his production in full:—
Lord Stratford De Redcliffe.
August 18, 1888.
In the notice of Sir R. Burton’s “Life” in to-day’s Athenaeum 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 Redoutkale 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 (Athenaeum, August 25) of that everlasting reclame. Mr. S. Lane-Poole has contracted to “do” a life of Lord Stratford, and, ergo, he condemns me in magistral tone and a style of uncalled-for impertinence, to act as his “advt.” In relating how, by order of the late General Beatson, then commanding Bash-buzuk (Bashi-bazuk is the advertiser’s own property), I volunteered to relieve Cars, how I laid the project before the “Great Eltchee,” how it was received with the roughest language and how my first plan was thoroughly “frustrated.” I have told a true tale, and no more. “A strange perversion of facts,” cries the sapient criticaster, with that normal amenity which has won for him such honour and troops of unfriends: when his name was proposed as secretary to the R. A. S., all prophesied the speediest dissolution of that infirm body.
I am aware that Constantinople is not geographically “out of Europe.” But when Mr. S. Lane-Poole shall have travelled a trifle more he may learn that ethnologically it is. In fact, most of South-Eastern Europe holds itself more or less non-European, and when a Montenegrin marries a Frenchwoman or a German, his family will tell you that he has wedded a “European.”
“No one knows better than Sir R. Burton by what queer methods reputation may be annexed.” Heavens, what English! And what may the man mean? But perhaps he alludes in his own silly, saltless, sneering way to my Thousand Nights and a Night, which has shown what the “Uncle and Master’s” work should have been. Some two generations of poules mouillees have reprinted and republished Lane’s “Arabian Notes” without having the simple honesty to correct a single bevue, 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 (Athenaeum, 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 Athenaeum of August 25, permits himself in the Academy of September 1 an exuberance of language which can injure no one but himself. Disregarding personalities, I observe that he advances no single fact in support of the statements which I contradicted, but merely reiterates them. It is a question between documents and Sir R. Burton’s word.
S. Lane-Poole.
It is not a question between documents and my word, but rather of the use or abuse of documents by the “biographer.” My volunteering for the relief of Kars was known to the whole camp at the Dardanelles, and my visit to the Embassy at Constantinople is also a matter of “documents.” And when Mr. S. Lane-Poole shall have produced his I will produce mine.
[FN#451] It appears to me that our measures, remedial and punitive, against “pornographic publications” result mainly in creating “vested interests” (that English abomination) and thus in fostering the work. The French printer, who now must give name and address, stamps upon the cover Avis aux Libraires under Edition privee and adds Ce volume ne doit pas etre mis en vente ou expose dans les lieux publics (Loi du 29 Juillet, 1881). He also prints upon the back the number of copies for sale We treat “pornology” as we handle prostitution, unwisely ignore it, well knowing the while that it is a natural and universal demand of civilised humanity; and whereas continental peoples regulate it and limit its abuses we pass it by, Pharisee-like, with nez en-l’air. Our laws upon the subject are made only to be broken, and the authorities are unwilling to persecute, because by so doing they advertise what they condemn. Thus they offer a premium to the greedy and unscrupulous publisher and immensely enhance the value of productions ("Fanny Hill” by Richard Cleland for instance) which, if allowed free publication, would fetch pence instead of pounds. With due diffidence, I suggest that the police be directed to remove from booksellers’ windows and to confiscate all indecent pictures, prints and photographs; I would forbid them under penalty of heavy fines to expose immoral books for sale, and I would leave “cheap and nasty” literature to the good taste of the publisher and the public. Thus we should also abate the scandal of providing the secretaries and officers of the various anti-vice societies with libraries of pornological works which, supposed to be escheated or burned, find their way into the virtuous hands of those who are supposed to destroy them.
[FN#452] “Quand aux manuscrits de la redaction egyptienne, l’omission de cet episode parait devoir etre attribuee a la tendance qui les caracterise generalement, d’abreger et de condenser la narrative " (loc. cit. p. 7: see also p. 14).
[FN#453] Here I would by no means assert that the subject matter of The Nights is exhausted: much has been left for future labourers. It would be easy indeed to add another five volumes to my sixteen as every complete manuscript contains more or less of novelty. Dr. Pertsch, the learned librarian of Saxe-Gotha, informs me that no less than two volumes are taken up by a variant of Judar the Egyptian (in my vol. vi. 213) and by the History of Zahir and Ali. For the Turkish version in the Bibliotheque 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 “Ala al-Din” (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’uman. The third group, also Egyptian, differs only in the distribution of the stories.]
[FN#454] My late friend, who brought home 3,000 copies of inscriptions from the so-called Sinai which I would term in ancient days the Peninsula of Paran. and in our times the Peninsula of Tor.
[FN#455] See M. Zotenberg, pp. 4, 26.
[FN#456] M. Zotenberg (p. 5) wrote la seconde moitie du xive. Siecle, but he informed me that he has found reason to antedate the text.
[FN#457] I regret the necessity of exposing such incompetence and errors which at the time when Lane wrote were venial enough; his foolish friend, however, by unskilful and exaggerated pretensions and encomiums, compels me to lay the case before the reader.
[FN#458] This past tense, suggesting that an act is complete, has a present sense in Arabic and must be translated accordingly.
[FN#459] Quite untrue: the critic as usual never read and probably never saw the subject of his criticism. In this case I may invert one of my mottoes and write, “To the foul all things”