the easiest, in which even the Prophet was caught napping sometimes, at
the dangerous risk of following the perilous leadership of Imru ’l-Kays.
It is the metre of improvisation, of ditties, and of numerous didactic
poems. In the latter case, when the composition is called Urjúzah, the
two lines of every Bayt rhyme, and each Bayt has a rhyme of its own.
This is the form in which for instance, Ibn Málik’s Alfíyah is written,
as well as the remarkable grammatical work of the modern native scholar,
Nasíf al-Yazijí, of which a notice will be found in Chenery’s
Introduction to his Translation of Al-Hariri.
While the Hazaj and Rajaz connect the third circle with the first and
second, the Ramal forms the link between the third and fourth Dáirah.
Its measure Fá’ilátun (‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑) and the reversal of it, Maf’úlátu (‑ ‑ ‑
⏑), affect the trochaic rhythm, as opposed to the iambic of the two
first-named metres. The iambic movement has a ring of gladness about it,
the trochaic a wail of sadness: the former resembles a nimble
pedestrian, striding apace with an elastic step and a cheerful heart;
the latter is like a man toiling along on the desert path, where his
foot is ever and anon sliding back in the burning sand (Raml, whence
probably the name of the metre). Both combined in regular alternation,
impart an agitated character to the verse, admirably fit to express the
conflicting emotions of a passion-stirred mind.
Examples of these more or less plaintive and pathetic metres are
numerous in the Tale of Uns al-Wujúd and the Wazir’s Daughter, which,
being throughout a story of love, as has been noted, vol. v. 33, abounds
in verse, and, in particular, contains ten out of the thirty-two
instances of Ramal occurring in The Nights. We quote:
Ramal, first Zarb of the first ’Arúz (Mac. N. ii. 361):
‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ |
Inna li ’l-bulbuli sautan fí ’l-sahar
‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ |
Ashghala ’l-’áshika ’an husni ’l-watar
The Bulbul’s note, whenas dawn is nigh ✿ Tells the lover from strains of
strings to fly (vol. v. 48).
Sarí’, second Zarb of the first ’Arúz (Mac. N. ii. 359):
⏑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ |
Wa fákhitin kad kála fí nauhihi
‑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ |
Yá Dáiman shukran ’alà balwatí
I heard a ringdove chanting soft and plaintively, ✿ “I thank Thee, O
Eternal, for this misery” (vol. v. 47).
Khafíf, full or perfect form (sahíh), both in Zarb and ’Arúz (Mac. N.
ii. 356):
‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ |
Yá li-man ashtakí ’l-gharáma ’llazí bí
⏑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ |
Wa shujúní wa furkatí ’an habíbí
O to whom now of my desire complaining sore shall I ✿ Bewail my parting
from my fere compellèd thus to fly (vol. v. 44).
Mujtass, the only ’Arúz (majzúah sahíhah, _i.e._ shortened by one foot
and perfect) with equal Zarb (Mac. N. ii. 367):
‑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ⏑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ |
Ruddú ’alayya habíbí
‑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ ‑ |
Lá hajatan lí bi-málin
To me restore my dear ✿ I want not wealth untold (vol. v. 55).
As an instance of the Munsarih, I give the second occurring in The
Nights, because it affords me an opportunity to show the student how
useful a knowledge of the laws of Prosody frequently proves for
ascertaining the correct reading of a text. Mac. N. i. 33 we find the
line:
‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ |
Arba’atun má ’jtama’at kattu izá.
This would be Rajaz with the license Mufta’ilun for Mustaf’ilun. But the
following lines of the fragment evince, that the metre is Munsarih;
hence, a clerical error must lurk somewhere in the second foot. In fact,
on page 833 of the same volume, we find the piece repeated, and here the
first couplet reads
‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ ⏑ | ‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ |
Arba’atun má ’jtama’na kattu siwà
⏑ ‑ ⏑ ‑ | ‑ ⏑ ‑ ⏑ | ‑ ⏑ ⏑ ‑ |
Alà azá mujhatí wa safki damí
Four things which ne’er conjoin unless it be ✿ To storm my vitals and to
shed my blood (vol. iii. 237).
The Mutakárib, the last of the metres employed in The Nights, has gained
a truly historical importance by the part which it plays in Persian
literature. In the form of trimetrical double-lines, with a several
rhyme for each couplet, it has become the “Nibelungen-” stanza of the
Persian epos: Firdausí’s immortal “Book of Kings” and Nizámi’s
Iskander-námah are written in it, not to mention a host of Masnawis in
which Sufic mysticism combats Mohammedan orthodoxy. On account of its
warlike and heroical character, therefore, I choose for an example the
knightly Jamrakán’s challenge to the single fight in which he conquers
his scarcely less valiant adversary Kaurajan, Mac. N. iii. 296:
⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ⏑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑
Aná ’l-Jamrakánu kawiyyn ’l-janáni
⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ⏑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑
Jamí’u ’l-fawárisi takhshà kitálí.
Here the third syllable of the second foot in each line is shortened by
license, and the final Kasrah of the first line, standing in pause, is
long, the metre being the full form of the Mutakárib as exhibited p.
286, iii. E. i. If we suppress the Kasrah of al-Janáni, which is also
allowable in pause, and make the second line to rhyme with the first,
saying, for instance:
⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ⏑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑
Aná ’l-Jamrakánu kawiyyu ’l-janán
⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑ ‑ | ⏑ ‑
La-yakshà kitálí shijá’u ’l-zamán,
we obtain the powerful and melodious metre in which the Sháhnámah sings
of Rustam’s lofty deeds, of the tender love of Rúdabah and the tragic
downfall of Siyawush.
Shall I confess that in writing the foregoing pages it has been my
ambition to become a conqueror, in a modest way, myself: to conquer, I
mean, the prejudice frequently entertained, and shared even by my
accomplished countryman, Rückert, that Arabic Prosody is a clumsy and
repulsive doctrine. I have tried to show that it springs naturally from
the character of the language, and, intimately connected, as it is, with
the grammatical system of the Arabs, it appears to me quite worthy of
the acumen of a people, to whom, amongst other things, we owe the
invention of Algebra, the stepping-stone of our whole modern system of
Mathematics. I cannot refrain, therefore, from concluding with a little
anecdote anent al-Khalíl, which Ibn Khallikán tells in the following
words. His son went one day into the room where his father was, and on
finding him scanning a piece of poetry by the rules of prosody, he ran
out and told the people that his father had lost his wits. They went in
immediately and related to al-Khalíl what they had heard, on which he
addressed his son in these terms:
“Had you known what I was saying, you would have excused me, and had you
known what you said, I should have blamed you. But you did not
understand me, so you blamed me, and I knew that you were ignorant, so I
pardoned you.”
L’Envoi.
Here end, to my sorrow, the labours of a quarter-century and here I must
perforce say with the “poets’ Poet,”
“Behold! I see the haven nigh at hand,
To which I mean my wearie course to bend;
Vere the main shete, and bear up with the land
The which afore is fairly to be ken’d.”
Nothing of importance now indeed remains for me but briefly to estimate
the character of my work and to take cordial leave of my readers,
thanking them for the interest they have accorded to these volumes and
for enabling me thus successfully to complete the decade.
Without pudor malus or over-diffidence I would claim to have fulfilled
the promise contained in my Foreword. The anthropological notes and
notelets, which not only illustrate and read between the lines of the
text, but assist the student of Moslem life and of Arabo-Egyptian
manners, customs and language in a multitude of matters shunned by
books, form a repertory of Eastern knowledge in its esoteric phase,
sexual as well as social.
To assert that such lore is unnecessary is to state, as every traveller
knows, an “absurdum.” Few phenomena are more startling than the vision
of a venerable infant, who has lived half his long life in the midst of
the wildest anthropological vagaries and monstrosities, and yet who
absolutely ignores all that India or Burmah enacts under his very eyes.
This is crass ignorance, not the naive innocence of Saint Francis who,
seeing a man and a maid in a dark corner, raised his hands to Heaven and
thanked the Lord that there was still in the world so much of Christian
Charity.
Against such lack of knowledge my notes are a protest; and I may claim
success despite the difficulty of the task. A traveller familiar with
Syria and Palestine, Herr Landberg, writes, “La plume refuserait son
service, la langue serait insuffisante, si celui qui connaît la vie de
tous les jours des Orientaux, surtout des classes élevées, voulait la
devoiler. L’Europe est bien loin d’en avoir la moindre idée.”
In this matter I have done my best, at a time too when the hapless
English traveller is expected to write like a young lady for young
ladies, and never to notice what underlies the most superficial stratum.
And I also maintain that the free treatment of topics usually taboo’d
and held to be “alekta”—unknown and unfitted for publicity—will be a
national benefit to an “Empire of Opinion,” whose very basis and
buttresses are a thorough knowledge by the rulers of the ruled. Men have
been crowned with gold in the Capitol for lesser services rendered to
the Respublica.
That the work contains errors, shortcomings and many a lapsus, I am the
first and foremost to declare. Yet in justice to myself I must also
notice that the maculæ are few and far between; even the most unfriendly
and interested critics have failed to point out an abnormal number of
slips. And before pronouncing the “Vos plaudite!” or, as Easterns more
politely say, “I implore that my poor name may be raised aloft on the
tongue of praise, let me invoke the fair field and courteous favour
which the Persian poet expected from his readers.
بپوش گر بخطای رسی و طعنه مزن
که هيج بشر خالی از خطا نبود
(Veil it, an fault thou find, nor jibe nor jeer:—
None may be found of faults and failings clear!)
RICHARD F. BURTON.
ATHENÆUM CLUB, _September 30, ’86_.
-----
Footnote 126:
Ouseley’s Orient. Collect. I, vii.
Footnote 127:
This threefold distribution occurred to me many years ago and when far
beyond reach of literary authorities: I was, therefore, much pleased
to find the subjoined threefold classification with minor details made
by Baron von Hammer-Purgstall (Preface to Contes Inédits etc. of G. S.
Trébutien, Paris, mdcccxxviii.). (1) The older stories which serve as
a base to the collection, such as the Ten Wazirs (“Malice of Women”)
and Voyages of Sindbad (?) which may date from the days of Mahommed.
These are distributed into two sub-classes; (_a_) the marvellous and
purely imaginative (_e.g._ Jamasp and the Serpent Queen) and (_b_) the
realistic mixed with instructive fables and moral instances. (2) The
stories and anecdotes peculiarly Arab, relating to the Caliphs and
especially to Al-Rashíd; and (3) The tales of Egyptian provenance,
which mostly date from the times of the puissant “Aaron the Orthodox.”
Mr. John Payne (Villon Translation, vol. ix. pp. 367–73) distributes
the stories roughly under five chief heads as follows: (1) Histories
or long Romances, as King Omar bin Al-Nu’man. (2) Anecdotes or short
stories dealing with historical personages and with incidents and
adventures belonging to the every-day life of the period to which they
refer: _e.g._ those concerning Al-Rashíd and Hátim of Tayy. (3)
Romances and romantic fictions comprising three different kinds of
tales; (_a_) purely romantic and supernatural; (_b_) fictions and
nouvelles with or without a basis and background of historical fact
and (_c_) Contes fantastiques. (4) Fables and Apologues; and (5) Tales
proper, as that of Tawaddud.
Footnote 128:
Journal Asiatique (Paris, Dondey-Dupré, 1826) “Sur l’origine des Mille
et une Nuits.”
Footnote 129:
Baron von Hammer-Purgstall’s château is near Styrian Graz; and, when I
last saw his library, it had been left as it was at his death.
Footnote 130:
At least, in Trébutien’s Preface, pp. xxx.-xxxi., reprinted from the
Journ. Asiat. August, 1839: for corrections see De Sacy’s “Mémoire.”
p. 39.
Footnote 131:
Vol. iv. pp. 89–90, Paris mdccclxv. Trébutien quotes, chapt. lii. (for
lxviii.), one of Von Hammer’s manifold inaccuracies.
Footnote 132:
Alluding to Iram the Many-columned, etc.
Footnote 133:
In Trébutien “Síhá,” for which the Editor of the Journ. Asiat. and De
Sacy rightly read “Sabíl-há.”
Footnote 134:
For this some MSS. have “Fahlawíyah” = Pehlevi.
Footnote 135:
_i.e._ Lower Roman, Grecian, of Asia Minor, etc., the word is still
applied throughout Marocco, Algiers and Northern Africa to Europeans
in general.
Footnote 136:
De Sacy (Dissertation prefixed to the Bourdin Edition) notices the
“thousand and one,” and in his Mémoire “a thousand:” Von Hammer’s MS.
reads a thousand, and the French translation a thousand and one.
Evidently no stress can be laid upon the numerals.
Footnote 137:
These names are noticed in my vol. i. 14, and vol. ii. 3. According to
De Sacy some MSS. read “History of the Wazir and his Daughters.”
Footnote 138:
Lane (iii. 735) has Wizreh or Wardeh which guide us to Wird Khan, the
hero of the tale. Von Hammer’s MS. prefers Djilkand (Jilkand), whence
probably the Isegil or Isegild of Langlès (1814), and the Tséqyl of De
Sacy (1833). The mention of “Simás” (Lane’s Shemmas) identifies it
with “King Jali’ád of Hind,” etc. (Night dcccxcix.) Writing in A.D.
961 Hamzah Isfaháni couples with the libri Sindbad and Schimas, the
libri Baruc and Barsinas, four nouvelles out of nearly seventy. See
also Al-Makri’zi’s Khitat or Topography (ii. 485) for a notice of the
Thousand or Thousand and one Nights.
Footnote 139:
Alluding to the “Seven Wazirs” alias “The Malice of Women” (Night
dlxxviii.), which Von Hammer and many others have carelessly
confounded with Sindbad the Seaman. We find that two tales once
separate have now been incorporated with The Nights, and this suggests
the manner of its composition by accretion.
Footnote 140:
Arabised by a most “elegant” stylist, Abdullah ibn al-Mukaffá (the
shrivelled), a Persian Guebre named Roz-bih (Day good), who islamised
and was barbarously put to death in A.H. 158 (= 775) by command of the
Caliph al-Mansur (Al-Siyuti p. 277). “He also translated from Pehlevi
the book entitled _Sekiserán_, containing the annals of Isfandiyar,
the death of Rustam, and other episodes of old Persic history,” says
Al-Mas’udi chapt. xxi. See also Ibn Khallikan (1, 43) who dates the
murder in A.H. 142 (= 759–60).
Footnote 141:
“Notice sur Le Schah-namah de Firdoussi,” a posthumous publication of
M. de Wallenbourg, Vienna, 1810, by M. A. de Bianchi. In sect. iii. I
shall quote another passage of Al-Mas’udi (viii. 175) in which I find
a distinct allusion to the “Gaboriau-detective tales” of The Nights.
Footnote 142:
Here Von Hammer shows his customary inexactitude. As we learn from Ibn
Khallikan (Fr. Tr. I. 630), the author’s name was Abu al-Faraj
Mohammed ibn Is’hak, pop. known as Ibn Ali Ya’kúb al-Warrák, the
bibliographe, librarian, copyist. It was published (vol. i. Leipzig,
1871) under the editorship of G. Fluegel, J. Roediger, and A. Müller.
Footnote 143:
See also the Journ. Asiat., August, 1839, and Lane iii. 736–37.
Footnote 144:
Called “Afsánah” by Al-Mas’udi, both words having the same sense =
tale, story, parable, “facetiæ.” Moslem fanaticism renders it by the
Arab. “Khuráfah” = silly fables, and in Hindostan it = a jest:—“Bát-kí
bát; khurafát-ki khurafát (a word for a word, a joke for a joke.)
Footnote 145:
Al-Mas’údi (chapt. xxi.) makes this a name of the Mother of Queen
Humáí or Humáyah, for whom see below.
Footnote 146:
The preface of a copy of the Shah-nameh (by Firdausi, ob. A.D. 1021),
collated in A.H. 829 by command of Bayisunghur Bahadur Khán (Atkinson
p. x.), informs us that the Hazar Afsanah was composed for or by Queen
Humái whose name is Arabised to Humáyah. This Persian Marguerite de
Navarre was daughter and wife to (Ardashir) Bahman, sixth Kayanian and
surnamed Diraz-dast (Artaxerxes Longimanus), Abu Sásán from his son,
the Eponymus of the Sassanides who followed the Kayanians when these
were extinguished by Alexander of Macedon. Humai succeeded her husband
as seventh Queen, reigned thirty-two years and left the crown to her
son Dárá or Dáráb 1st = Darius Codomanus. She is better known to
Europe (through Herodotus) as Parysatis = Peri-zádeh or the
Fairy-born.
Footnote 147:
_i.e._ If Allah allow me to say sooth.
Footnote 148:
_i.e._ of silly anecdotes: here speaks the good Moslem!
Footnote 149:
No. 622 Sept. 29, ’39; a review of Torrens which appeared shortly
after Lane’s vol. i. The author quotes from a MS. in the British
Museum, No. 7334 fol. 136.
Footnote 150:
There are many Spaniards of this name: Mr. Payne (ix. 302) proposes
Abu Ja’afar ibn Abd al-Hakk al-Khazraji, author of a History of the
Caliphs about the middle of the twelfth century.
Footnote 151:
The well-known Rauzah or Garden-island, of old Al-Saná’ah (Al-Mas’udi
chapt. xxxi.), which is more than once noticed in The Nights. The name
of the pavilion Al-Haudaj = a camel-litter, was probably intended to
flatter the Badawi girl.
Footnote 152:
He was the Seventh Fatimite Caliph of Egypt: regn. A.H. 495–524 (=
1101–1129).
Footnote 153:
Suggesting a private pleasaunce in Al-Rauzah which has ever been and
is still a succession of gardens.
Footnote 154:
The writer in _The Athenæum_ calls him Ibn Miyyah, and adds that the
Badawiyah wrote to her cousin certain verses complaining of her
thraldom, which the youth answered, abusing the Caliph. Al-’Ámir found
the correspondence and ordered Ibn Miyah’s tongue to be cut out, but
he saved himself by a timely flight.
Footnote 155:
In Night dccclxxxv. we have the passage “He was a wily thief: none
could avail against his craft as he were Abu Mohammed Al-Battál”: the
word etymologically means The Bad; but see infra.
Footnote 156:
Amongst other losses which Orientalists have sustained by the death of
Rogers Bey, I may mention his proposed translation of Al-Makrízí’s
great topographical work.
Footnote 157:
The name appears only in a later passage.
Footnote 158:
Mr. Payne notes (viii. 137) “apparently some famous brigand of the
time” (of Charlemagne). But the title may signify The Brave, and the
tale may be much older.
Footnote 159:
In his “Mémoire sur l’origine du Recueil des Contes intitulé Les Mille
et une Nuits” (Mém. d’Hist. et de Littér. Orientale, extrait des tomes
ix. et x. des Mémoires de l’Inst. Royal Acad. des Inscriptions et
Belles Lettres, Paris, Imprimerie Royale, 1833). He read the Memoir
before the Royal Academy on July 31, 1829. Also in his Dissertation
“Sur les Mille et une Nuits” (pp. i.-viii.) prefixed to the Bourdin
Edit. When the first Arabist in Europe landed at Alexandria he could
not exchange a word with the people: the same is told of Golius the
lexicographer at Tunis.
Footnote 160:
Lane, Nights ii. 218.
Footnote 161:
This origin had been advocated a decade of years before by Shaykh
Ahmad al-Shirawání; Editor of the Calc. text (1814–18): his Persian
preface opines that the author was an Arabic-speaking Syrian who
designedly wrote in a modern and conversational style, none of the
purest withal, in order to instruct non-Arabists. Here we find the
genus “Professor” pure and simple.
Footnote 162:
Such an assertion makes us enquire, Did De Sacy ever read through The
Nights in Arabic?
Footnote 163:
Dr. Jonathan Scott’s “translation” vi. 283.
Footnote 164:
For a note on this world-wide Tale see vol. i. 52.
Footnote 165:
In the annotated translation by Mr. I. G. N. Keith-Falconer, Cambridge
University Press. I regret to see the wretched production called the
“Fables of Pilpay” in the “Chandos Classics” (London, F. Warne). The
words are so mutilated that few will recognise them, _e.g._ Carchenas
for Kár-shínás, Chaschmanah for Chashmey-e-Máh (Fountain of the Moon),
etc.
Footnote 166:
Article Arabia in Encyclop. Brit., 9th Edit., p. 263, col. 2. I do not
quite understand Mr. Palgrave, but presume that his “other version” is
the Bresl. Edit., the MS. of which was brought from Tunis; see its
Vorwort (vol. i. p. 3).
Footnote 167:
There are three distinct notes according to De Sacy (Mém., p. 50). The
first (in MS. 1508) says “This blessed book was read by the weak
slave, etc. Wahabah son of Rizkallah the Kátib (secretary, scribe) of
Tarábulus al-Shám (Syrian Tripoli,) who prayeth long life for its
owner (li máliki-h). This tenth day of the month First Rabí’a A.H. 955
(= 1548).” A similar note by the same Wahabah occurs at the end of
vol. ii. (MS. 1507) dated A.H. 973 (= 1565) and a third (MS. 1506) is
undated. Evidently M. Caussin has given undue weight to such evidence.
For further information see “Tales of the East” to which is prefixed
an Introductory Dissertation (vol. i. pp. 24–26, note) by Henry
Webber, Esq., Edinburgh, 1812, in 3 vols.
Footnote 168:
“Notice sur les douze manuscrits connus des Milles et une Nuits, qui
existent en Europe.” Von Hammer in Trébutien, Notice, vol. i.
Footnote 169:
Printed from the MS. of Major Turner Macan, Editor of the Shahnamah:
he bought it from the heirs of Mr. Salt, the historic Consul-General
of England in Egypt and after Macan’s death it became the property of
the now extinct Allens, then of Leadenhall Street (Torrens, Preface,
i.). I have vainly enquired about what became of it.
Footnote 170:
The short paper by “P. R.” in the Gentleman’s Magazine (Feb. 19th,
1799, vol. lxix. p. 61) tells us that MSS. of The Nights were scarce
at Aleppo and that he found only two vols. (280 Nights) which he had
great difficulty in obtaining leave to copy. He also noticed (in 1771)
a MS., said to be complete, in the Vatican and another in the “King’s
Library” (Bibliothèque Nationale), Paris.
Footnote 171:
Aleppo has been happy in finding such monographers as Russell and
Maundrell while poor Damascus fell into the hands of Mr. Missionary
Porter, and suffered accordingly.
Footnote 172:
Vol. vi. Appendix, p. 452.
Footnote 173:
The numbers, however, vary with the Editions of Galland: some end the
formula with Night cxcvii; others with the ccxxxvi.: I adopt that of
the De Sacy Edition.
Footnote 174:
Contes Persans; suivis des Contes Turcs. Paris; Béchet Ainé, 1826.
Footnote 175:
In the old translation we have “eighteen hundred years since the
prophet Solomon died,” (B.C. 975) = A.D. 825.
Footnote 176:
Meaning the era of the Seleucides. Dr. Jonathan Scott shows (vol. ii.
324) that A.H. 653 and A.D. 1255 would correspond with 1557 of that
epoch; so that the scribe has here made a little mistake of 5,763
years. Ex uno disce.
Footnote 177:
The _Saturday Review_ (Jan. 2nd ’86) writes, “Captain Burton has
fallen into a mistake by not distinguishing between the names of the
by no means identical Caliphs Al-Muntasir and Al-Mustansir.” Quite
true: it was an ugly confusion of the melancholy madman and parricide
with one of the best and wisest of the Caliphs. I can explain (not
extenuate) my mistake only by a misprint in Al-Siyúti (p. 554).
Footnote 178:
In the Galland MS. and the Bresl. Edit. (ii. 253), we find the Barber
saying that the Caliph (Al-Mustansir) was _at that time_ (yaumaizin)
in Baghdad; and this has been held to imply that the Caliphate had
fallen. But such conjecture is evidently based upon insufficient
grounds.
Footnote 179:
De Sacy makes the “Kalandar” order originate in A.D. 1150; but the
Shaykh Sharíf bú Ali Kalandar died in A.D. 1323–24. In Sind the first
Kalandar, Osmán-i-Marwándí surnamed Lál Sháhbáz, the Red Goshawk, from
one of his miracles, died and was buried at Sehwán in A.D. 1274: see
my “History of Sindh” chapt. viii. for details. The dates therefore
run wild.
Footnote 180:
In this same tale H. H. Wilson observes that the title of Sultan of
Egypt was not assumed before the middle of the xiith century.
Footnote 181:
Popularly called Vidyanagar of the Narsingha.
Footnote 182: