with the daughter of a leek-grower. She would not accept him unless he
learned a trade, so he learned the trade of a silk weaver, who taught
him in five minutes; and he worked a handkerchief with the palace of his
father embroidered upon it. Two years afterwards, the prince and the
wazir took a walk, when they found a Maghrabi seated at the gate of the
town, who invited them to take coffee. But he was a prisoner (or rather,
a murderer) who imprisoned them behind seven doors; and after three days
he cooked the wazir, and was going to cook the prince, but he persuaded
him to take his handkerchief to market, where it was recognised, and the
prince released from his peril. Two years later the king died, and the
prince succeeded to the throne. The latter had a son and daughter, but
he died when the boy was six and the girl eight, warning the boy not to
marry until the girl was married, lest his wife should ill-use her.
After two years, the sister said, “Brother, if I show you the treasures
of your father and mother, what will you do?” He answered, “I will buy a
slipper for you and a slipper for me, and we will play with them among
the stones.” “No,” said she, “you are still too little,” and waited a
year before she asked him again. This time he answered, “I will buy a
tambourine for you, and a flute for myself, and we will play in the
street.” She waited two years more, and this time he answered, “We will
use them to repair the water-wheels and my father’s palaces, and we will
sow and reap.” “Now you are big,” said she, and gave him the treasures,
which he used to erect buildings in his father’s country. Soon
afterwards, an old woman persuaded the youth to marry her daughter; but
she herself went into the mountains, collected eggs of the bird Oumbar,
which make virgins pregnant if they eat them, and gave them to the
sister. The old woman reported the result to the king, who visited his
sister to satisfy himself of the truth of the matter, and then left her,
but sent her food by a slave. When the sister’s time came, four angels
descended from heaven, and took her daughter, bringing the child to her
mother to be nursed. The mother died of grief, and the angels washed and
shrouded her and wept over her; and when the king heard it, he opened
the door, and the angels flew away to heaven with the child. The king
ordered a tomb to be built in the palace for his sister, and was so much
grieved at her death that he went on pilgrimage. When he had been gone
some time, and the time of his return approached, the old woman opened
the sister’s tomb, intending to throw her body to the dogs to devour,
and to put the carcase of a sheep in its place. The angels put the child
in the tomb, and she reproached and threatened the old woman; who,
however, seized upon her and dyed her black, pretending that she was a
little black slave whom she had bought. When the king returned, he
pitied her, and called her to sit by him, but she asked for a candle and
candlestick to hold in her hand before all the company. Then she told
her mother’s story, saying to the candle at every word, “Gutter for
kings; this is my uncle, the chief of kings.” Then the candle threw
mahboubs on her uncle’s knees. When the story was ended the king ordered
proclamation to be made, “Let whosoever loves the Prophet and the Elect,
bring wood and fire.” The people obeyed, and the old woman and her
daughter were burned.
VIII. _Histoire du Prince Amoureux._
A woman prayed to God to give her a daughter, even if she should die of
the smell of flax. When the girl was ten years old, the king’s son
passed through the street, saw her at the window, and fell in love with
her. An old woman discovered that he loved Sittoukan, the daughter of a
merchant, and promised to obtain her. She contrived to set her to spin
flax, when a splinter ran under her nail, and she fainted. The old woman
persuaded her father and mother to build a palace in the midst of the
river, and to lay her there on a bed. Thither she took the prince, who
turned the body about, saw the splinter, drew it out, and the girl
awoke. He remained with her forty days, when he went down to the door,
where he found the wazir waiting, and they entered the garden. There
they found roses and jasmines, and the prince said, “The jasmines are as
white as Sittoukan, and the roses are like her cheeks; if you did not
approve, I would still remain with her, were it only for three days.” He
went up again for three days, and when he next visited the wazir, they
saw a carob-tree, and the prince said, “Remember wazir, the carob-tree
is like the eyebrows of Sittoukan, and if you would not let me, I would
still remain with her, were it only for three days.” Three days later,
they saw a fountain, when the prince observed that it was like the form
of Sittoukan, and he returned. But this time, she was curious to know
why he always went and returned, and he found her watching behind the
door, so he spat on her saying, “If you did not love men, you would not
hide behind doors”; and he left her. She wandered into the garden in her
grief, where she found the ring of empire, which she rubbed, and the
ring said, “At your orders, what do you ask for?” She asked for
increased beauty, and a palace beside that of the prince. The prince
fell in love with her, and sent his mother to propose for her hand. The
mother took two pieces of royal brocade as a present, which the young
lady ordered a slave in her hearing to cut up for dusters. Then the
mother brought her an emerald collar worth four thousand dinars, when
she ordered to be threshed, and thrown to the pigeons. The old lady
acknowledged herself beaten, and asked Sittoukan if she wished to marry
or not. The latter demanded that the prince should be wrapped in seven
shrouds, and carried to the palace which she indicated, as if he were
dead. Then she went and took off the shrouds one after another, and when
she came to the seventh, she spat on him, saying, “If you did not love
women, you would not be wrapped in seven shrouds.” Then he said, “Is it
you?” and he bit his finger till he bit it off, and they remained
together.
IX. _Histoire du musicien ambulant et de son fils._
This travelling musician was so poor that when his wife was confined, he
went out to beg for their immediate necessities, and found a hen lying
on the ground with an egg under her. He met a Jew to whom he sold the
egg for twenty mabboubs. The hen laid an egg every day, which the Jew
bought for twenty mabboubs, and the musician became rich and opened a
merchant’s shop. When his son was grown, he built a school for him at
his own expense, where poor children were taught to read. Then the
musician set out on pilgrimage, charging his wife not to let the Jew
trick her out of the hen. A fortnight afterwards, the Jew called, and
persuaded the woman to sell him the hen for a casket of silver. He
ordered her to cook it, but told her that if anybody else ate a piece,
he would rip him up. The musician’s son came in, while the fowl was
cooking, and as his mother would not give him any, he seized the
gizzard, and ate it, when one of the slaves warned him to fly before the
arrival of the Jew. The Jew pursued the boy, and would have killed him,
but the latter took him up with one hand, and dashed him to pieces on
the ground. The musician’s son continued his journey, and arrived at a
town where thirty-nine heads of suitors who had failed to conquer the
princess in wrestling, were suspended at the gate of the palace. On the
first day the youth wrestled with the princess for two hours without
either being able to overcome the other; but during the night the king
ordered the doctors to drug the successful suitor, and to steal the
talisman. Next morning when the youth awoke, he perceived his weakness,
and fled. Presently he met three men quarrelling over a flying carpet, a
food-producing cup, and a money mill. He threw a stone for them to run
after, and transported himself to Mount Kaf, where he made trial of the
other talismans. Then he returned to the palace, called to the princess
to come down to wrestle with him, and as soon as she stepped on the
carpet, carried her away to Mount Kaf, when she promised to restore the
gizzard, and to marry him. She deserted him, and he found two
date-trees, one bearing red and the other yellow dates. On eating a
yellow date, a horn grew from his head[444] and twisted round the two
date-trees. A red date removed it. He filled his pockets, and travelled
night and day for two months.[445] He cried dates out of season, and the
princess bought sixteen yellow ones, and ate them all; and eight
[sixteen?] horns grew from her head, four to each wall. They could not
be sawn off, and the king offered his daughter to whoever could remove
them. When the musician’s son married the princess, and became wazir, he
said to his bride, “Where is my carpet, &c.” She replied, “Is it you?”
“Yes,” said he, “Is my trick or yours the best?” She admitted that she
was beaten, and they lived together in harmony.
X. _Histoire du rossignol chanteur._
(This story is briefly given by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights iii.,
p. 123; but I give here a fuller abstract.)
Three brothers built a palace for their mother and sister after their
father’s death. The sister loved someone of whom the brothers
disapproved. An old woman advised the sister to send her brothers for
the singing nightingale. The two eldest would not wait till the bird was
asleep, but while they were trying to shut his cage, he dusted sand over
them with his claws, and sunk them to the seventh earth. The beads and
the ring gave warning of their deaths at home; but the third, who left a
rose with his mother, to fade if he died, captured the bird, and
received sand from under the cage. When he scattered it on the ground,
more than a thousand men rose up, some negroes and some Turks. The
brothers were not among them, so the youngest was told to scatter white
sand, when 500 more people emerged, including the brothers. Afterwards
the eldest brother was sitting in his ship when a Maghrebi told him to
clean his turban; which his mother interpreted to mean that his sister
had misconducted herself, and he should kill her. He refused, and fled
with her to the desert. Hearing voices, he entered a cave where
thirty-nine robbers were dividing rations; and he contrived to
appropriate a share, and then to return it when missed; but as he was
detected, he gave himself out as a fellow-robber, engaged himself to
them, and watching his opportunity, slew them. Afterwards he brought his
sister two young lions. She found a wounded negro in the cave, whom she
nursed, and after having had two children by him, plotted against her
brother. She pretended to be ill, and sent him to find the grapes of
Paradise. He met a Ghúleh who gave him a ball which directed him to
Paradise, and he returned safely. Then his sister sent him for the Water
of Life, when the two young lions followed him, and he could not drive
them back. After travelling for a year the brother reached the Sea of
the Water of Life, and while resting under a tree, heard two pigeons
telling each other that the king’s daughter was ill, and every doctor
who failed to restore her was put to death, and she could only be cured
by the Water of Life. “Mohammed l’Avisé” filled two bottles and a jar
with the water, cured the princess with the water in the jar, married
her, and after forty days, gave her one bottle, and set out to visit his
family. At the sister’s instigation, the negro slew Mohammed, cut him to
pieces, and put the remains into a sack, which they loaded on the ass.
Then the lions drove the ass to the wife of Mohammed, who restored his
life with the water which he had left with her. Mohammed then shut up
the lions, dressed himself as a negro, and went to visit his sister,
taking with him some rings and mastic (ladin). His sister recognised his
eyes; and while she and the negro were disputing, Mohammed slew the
negro and the three [_sic_] children, and buried his sister alive. He
then returned to his wife, announced that his relations were dead, and
asked for a hundred camels; and it took them a week to convey away the
treasures of the robbers.
XI. _Histoire d’Arab-Zandyq._
This story is translated by Mr. W. A. Clouston, Suppl. Nights, iii. pp.
619–624, and need not be repeated here.
XII. _Histoire du prince et de son cheval._
A prince and foal were born at the same time, and some time afterwards
the mother and the mare died. The king married again, and the new queen
had an intrigue with a Jew. They plotted to poison the prince, but his
horse wept and warned him. Then the queen pretended to be ill, and asked
for the heart of the horse, but the prince fled to another kingdom, and
bought clothes from a poor man, packing his own on his horse. Then he
parted from the horse, who gave him a hair and a flint, telling him to
light the hair whenever he needed him. The prince then went to a town,
and engaged himself as under-gardener to the king. He was set to drive
the ox which turned the water-wheel, but one day he called his horse,
put on his own clothes, and galloped about the garden, where the
youngest princess saw “Mohammed l’Avisé” from the window, and fell in
love with him. He then returned to the water-wheel, and when the
head-gardener returned and found the garden in disorder, he wanted to
beat him; but the princess interfered and ordered the prince to receive
a fowl and a cake of bread every day. The princess then persuaded her
mother and sisters that it was time to be married, so the king ordered
everybody to pass under the window of the seven princesses, each of whom
threw down a handkerchief on the man of her choice. But the youngest
would look at no one till at last they fetched the gardener’s boy, when
the king was angry, and confined them in a room. The king fell ill with
vexation, and the doctors ordered him to drink bear’s milk in the hide
of a virgin[446] bear. The king’s six sons-in-law were ordered to seek
it, and Mohammed too set forth mounted on a lame mare, while the people
jeered him. Presently he summoned his own horse, and ordered him to
pitch a camp of which the beginning and the end could not be seen, and
which should contain nothing but bears. When the six sons-in-law passed,
they dismounted, and asked the attendants for what they required, but
they referred them to their king. The latter offered them what they
asked, but branded a ring and a circle on the back of each of the
sons-in-law. However, he gave them only the milk and hide of old
she-bears, while he himself took the milk of a virgin[446] bear that had
just cubbed for the first time, slaughtered it, put the milk into the
skin, and then remounted his lame mare, saying to the horse, “God reward
you.” He returned to town, and gave the milk to his wife who took it to
her mother. Then the six sons-in-law brought the milk to the doctors,
but when they looked at it, they said, “This is the milk of an old
she-bear and is good for nothing.” Then they gave the king the other
milk, and cured him, but he was much annoyed to hear who had brought it.
Soon afterwards a war broke out, and the king pitched his camp outside
the town in face of the enemy. Mohammed set out again on his lame mare,
the people shouting after him, “Go back, sir, for the soldiers have been
defeated.” Then he summoned his horse, put on his own clothes, and said
to the horse, “Let your hair shoot forth fire.” Then he came before the
king, saying, “I declare for you and your six sons-in-law.” He rushed
into battle, smiting with his sword, while his horse shot forth fire.
They slew a third of the enemy, and then disappeared, while the king
lamented, “Ah, if my six sons-in-law had only done this!” After his
exertions Mohammed was tired, and went home to sleep. Next day the same
thing happened, but the king put his own ring on his finger. On the
third day he slew the remaining third of his enemies, but his arm was
wounded, and the king bound it up with his own handkerchief before he
departed. The king gathered together the horses and the spoil, and
returned to town, much vexed that his sons-in-law had done nothing. Then
the youngest princess asked her mother to send for her father to look at
the ring and the handkerchief, when he fell down and kissed the feet of
Mohammed, who rose up giddy from sleep, but when he was asked his
history, he answered, “I am a prince like yourself, and your six
sons-in-law are mamelouks of my father. I beat them, and they took to
flight, and through fear of my father, I set out in search of them. I
came here and found that they were your sons-in-law, but I imposed
silence on them. But as regards your daughter, she saw me in the garden,
and recognised my real rank; here is your daughter, O king; she is still
a virgin.” Then the wedding was celebrated with great pomp, and Mohammed
remained with his father-in-law for some time, until he desired to
return to his own country. On his arrival he found that his father had
died, so he ascended the throne, and ordered his mother-in-law and the
Jew to be burned.
_Carlo de Landberg, Básim le Forgeron et Haron Er-Rachid_, 8vo., Leyden,
1888.
Text and translation of a modern Arabic story of an unfortunate smith
and hashish-eater whom Harun encounters on one of his usual nocturnal
rambles. Harun plays a succession of practical jokes on him, driving him
out of his employment every day, and supping with him every night. At
last he bastinadoes him, and throws him into prison, where a jinniyah
takes pity on him, and confers unlimited power on him, which he enjoys
for a week, and then dies, to the great grief of Harun.
_ADDITIONAL NOTE TO VOL. V. pp. 442–444._
Compare Boccaccio’s story of the Devil in Hell (Day iii. No. 10.)
THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK
AND
ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED.
[“It has occurred to me that perhaps it would be a good plan to put
a set of notes ... to the ‘Origin,’ which now has none, exclusively
devoted to the errors of my reviewers. It has occurred to me that
where a reviewer has erred, a common reader might err. Secondly, it
will show the reader that we must not trust implicitly to
reviewers.”—DARWIN’S LIFE, ii. 349.]
TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON.
_The Thousand Nights and a Night._
Athwart the welkin slant the snows and pile
On sill and balcony; their feathery feet
Trip o’er the landscape, and pursuing sleet,
Earth’s brow beglooming, robs the skies of smile:
Lies in her mourning-shroud our Northern Isle,
And bitter winds in battle o’er her meet.
Her world is death-like, when behold! we greet
Light-gleams from morning-land in welcome while.
A light of golden mine and orient pearl—
Vistas of fairy-land, where Beauty reigns
And Valiance revels; cloudless moon, fierce sun,
The wold, the palm-tree; cities; hosts; a whirl
Of life in tents and palaces and fanes:
The light that streams from THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE.
ISABEL BURTON.
TANGIER, MAROCCO: _Feb. 19, 1886_.
THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BOOK
AND
ITS REVIEWERS REVIEWED.
PRELIMINARY.
I here propose to produce what may be called the “biography” of a book
whereof, methinks, the writer has some reason to be proud, a work which,
after occupying him for the third of a century, well nigh half the life
of average man and the normal endurance of a generation, can show for
result these sixteen volumes. A labour of such parts and magnitude
deserves, in my humble opinion, some notice of the main features
distinguishing its career, especially of its presentation to Court
(Public Opinion) and its reception by the high officials of the Palace,
the critics, reviewers and criticasters.
And there is yet another consideration. To ignore the charges and
criminations brought forward by certain literary Sir Oracles would be
wilfully suffering judgment to go by default. However unpopular and
despised may be, as a rule, the criticism of critique and however
veridical the famous apothegm, “A controversy _in_ the Press _with_ the
Press is the controversy of a fly with a spider,” I hold it the author’s
bounden duty, in presence of the Great Public, to put forth his reply,
if he have any satisfactory and interesting rejoinder, and by such
ordeal to purge himself and prove his innocence unless he would incur
wittingly impeachment for contumacy and contempt of court.
It is not only an instinct of human nature expressed by _nemo me impunè
lacessit_ which impels to answering in presence of the passers-by the
enemy at the gate; it is also a debt which his honour and a respectful
regard for the good opinion of his fellows compel the author to repay.
The man who is feeble enough silently to suffer detraction and calumny
at the hands of some sciolist or _Halb-bildung_ sheltering his miserable
individuality under the shadow (may it never be less!) of “King We,”
simply sins against himself as the Arabs say and offends good manners by
holding out a premium to wanton aggression and injurious doing. The
reading world has a right to hear the _alteram partem_ before it shall
deliver that judgment and shall pronounce that sentence wherefrom lies
no appeal. To ignore and not to visit with _représailles_ unworthy and
calumnious censure, may become that ideal and transcendental man who
forgives (for a personal and egoistical reason) those who trespass
against him. But the sublime doctrine which commands us to love our
enemies and affect those who despitefully entreat us is in perilous
proximity to the ridiculous; at any rate it is a vain and futile rule of
life which the general never thinks of obeying. It contrasts poorly with
the common sense of the pagan—_Fiat Justitia, ruat cœlum_; and the
heathenish and old-Adamical sentiment of the clansman anent Roderick
Dhu—
“Who rights his wrong where it was given,
If it were in the court of Heaven,”
_L. of the Lake_, v. 6.
—commends itself far more to what divines are pleased to call “fallen
human nature” that is the natural man.
And here before crossing the threshold, I would seize the opportunity of
expressing my cordial gratitude and hearty thanks to the Press in
general, which has received my Eastern studies and contributions to
Oriental knowledge in the friendliest and most sympathetic spirit,
appreciating my labours far beyond the modicum of the offerer’s
expectation and lending potent and generous aid to place them before the
English world in the fairest and most favourable point of view. To
number a small proportion of “black sheep” is no shame for a flock
amounting to myriads: such exceptional varieties must be bred for the
use and delectation of those who prefer to right wrong and darkness to
light. It is with these only that my remarks and retorts will deal and
consequently I have assigned to them the post of honour. The various
extracts from notices favourable, appreciative and complimentary, appear
as the “Opinions of the Press” at the end of this volume, and again I
take the opportunity of professing myself truly thankful for the good
word of the Fourth Estate, and for its wisely detecting the soul of good
in things evil.