yU^ Book of SindibaD; OR, THE STORY OF THE KING, HIS SON, THE DAMSEL, AND THE SEVEN VAZIRS. FROM THF: PERSIAN AND ARABIC. WTTH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND APPENDIX, W. A. CLOUSTON, 1:DIT0R of "ARABIAN I'OETRY FOR ENGLISH RKADERS, "the bakhtvar nama," etc. "Alas, women whose love is scorned .ire worse th.Tn poison!" PRI\A'1ELV PRINTED. MDCCCLXXXIV Edition : 300 Copies DR. REINHOLD ROST, LL.D., LIBRARIAN TO THE INDIA OFFICE, THIS WORK, WHICH, ALIKE AS A FRIEND AND A SCHOLAR, HE WOULD CRITICISE WITH INDULGENCE, IS DEDICATED, BY THE EDITOR. 2047691 PRKFACli. THE present work is, I believe, the first attempt, in this country, to furnish a compendious account of the Eastern and Western groups of romances known respectively under their generic titles of the Book of SiNbiDAD and the Book of the Seven Wise Masters. A\right's introduction to Inis edition, for the l\'rcy Society, of an Early English metrical version of the Sc'7'c';/ Snges may perhaps be considered as such a work, but he has confounded the Eastern with the Western versions, having been misled by Des Longchamps and other investigators, who, in this field of inquiry, accord- ing to Godeke, "fell into such confusion in essential points that they contributed almost as much to per- petuate old errors and spread them anew as to lay and root out others." Moreover, several important texts have been since discovered, throwing new light upon the history of both groups. — Professor Comparetti's Ricerchc infonio al Libra di Siiidibdd, an English translation of wliich, l)y Mr. H. C. Coote, forms one of the publications for tlie bolk-l -ore SocietN', is un- vi PREFACE. doubtedly one of the most important contributions to the history of the romance; but it assuines the reader to be famihar with the details of the several Eastern texts, the subordinate stories being mostly referred to only by their titles, and its usefulness is consequently confined within a narrow circle, in the absence, for merely English readers, of the tales themselves. This want I have now endeavoured to supply, to the best of my ability, in the following work, which comprises: (i) An introductory account of the structure of the Book of Sindibad, and the probable sources of the several Eastern versions; to which is prefixed a Com- ])arative Table of the Tales in this group, designed to exhibit, at a glance, the degrees of relationship which the texts bear towards each other. (2) An epitome, by Professor Forbes Falconer, of a I'ersian text, entitled Sindibad Akl/na, composed in 1375, of which the only known copy is an imperfect MS. in the Library of the India Office. Falconers work left much to be desired : of some of the Tales he gave only the titles, and others he presented in a very abridged form; it has therefore been compared with the MS. ; the abridged and omitted Tales — ten in number, of which three seem to have altogether escaped his notice — translated and inserted, and several grave errors rectified. In foot-notes I have explained such references and expressions as might be obscure to some readers, and adduced from the other versions jjassages which correspond with, or vary from, this text. PREFACE. vii (3) An Arabian version of the Seven Vazirs, trans- lated by Jonathan Scott, with corrections and additions, and similarly annotated. In my preface to it are some particulars regarding this and other Arabian texts. (4) An Appendix, which contains variants of the Tales in both these texts — forming curious illustrations of the pedigree of popular fictions and their migrations and transformations — together with such Tales as do not occur in them, but are found in the others. Thus all the Tales of the Eastern Texts, as represented in the Comparative Table, are now brought together. It certainly formed no part of my original design to treat of the Western Texts. These have, in some measure, preserved — from oral tradition, unquestion- ably — the leading ideas of the ancient original tale : the orphanhood of the accused youth; his education at a distance from his father; his step-mother's malice against him, and so on ; — but, as Comparetti has observed, "there is no Eastern version which differs so much from the others as the whole Western group differs from the Eastern group, whether it be in the form of the fundamental story, or in the tales inserted in it, of which scarcely four are common to both groups." As my work progressed, however, it occurred to me that abstracts of an Early English metrical version of the Seven JVise Masters and of the oldest Euro[jean form of the romance, the Eatin original of the old French metrical version, Dolopathos — discovered within recent years- with \-arianls as found in ollici- collcc- viii PREFACE. tions, would be acceptable to English students of the history of Fiction, which I have accordingly inserted in the Appendix. My work is, of course, not free from errors : I trust they will be excused by those who know the difficulties that beset a task of this kind. But however imperfect it may be, it would certainly have been still more so, but for the valuable assi-stance which 1 received from several eminent scholars: especially, from Mr. J. W. Redhouse, on whose stores of learning I drew, as on former occasions, perhaps too frequently; Mr. William Piatt, to whose erudition 1 am also much indebted ; Mr. E. J. W. Gibb, author of Ottoman Poems, etc., whose great kindness of disposition is equalled by his attainments in, and enthusiasm for. Oriental literature; and to i\Ir. David Ross, Principal of the E.G. Train- ing Gollege, Glasgow, of whose classical and general scholarship I was also happily able to avail m)self. That the work should be as comprehensive as possible has been my aim from the first; and, notwithstanding occasional inaccuracies and shortcomings, I venture to hope that it will prove interesting to general readers, and possibly even not altogether without its use to some of those who make a special study of the origin and spread of " old-world tales." \V. A. CLOUSTON Gl..\SGOW, May. 1S84. CONTENTS. PAGE Comparative Tai-.le of Eastern Texts of the Book OF SiNDIBAD fa'-il'S' xvii Introduction xvii THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. Editor's Preface 3 Introduction 5 Sindibad : Story of the Old Fox and the Monkey 13 ,, Story of the Camel, the Wolf, the Fox, and the Pumpkin ... ... ... 15 ,, Story of the King of Kashmir and the Elephant 17 First Vazir: Story of the King of the Monkeys 27 The First VazIr : Story of the Confectioner, his Wife, and the Parrot 3 1 Story of the Officer, his Mistress, his Servant, and the Woman's Husband 35 The Damsel: Story of the Washerman and his Son 37 The Second VazIr : Story of the Two Partridges 39 Story of the Old Man who sent his Young Wife to the Market to buy Rice 46 The Damsel: Story of the Prince and the Ghul 50 CONTENTS. The Third VazIr : — Story of the Snake and the Cat Story of the Libertine Husband The Damsel: Story of the Monkey and the Roar ... The Fourth VazIr : Story of the Bathkeeper .Story of the Go-Between and the She-Dog The Damsel : Lacima in M.S. The Fifth Vazir : Story of the Pretended Widow Story of the Woman and her Father-in-Law The Damsel: .Story of the Robber, the Lion, and the Monkey The Slxth VazTr : Story of the Perl and the Devotee ... Story of the Concealed Robe The Damsel: Story of the Changed .Sex The Seventh VazTr : Story of the King and the Virtuous Wife . . . Story of the Man who compiled a Book on the Wiles of Women The Prince : Story of the Poisoned Guests Story of the Careless Mother Story of the Infant in the Cradle .Story of the Stolen Purse and the Child of Five Years Story of the Sandal-wood Merchant and the Advice of the Blind Old Man Story of the King's Daughter and her Liberator.' Conclusion CONTENTS. THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Editor's Preface 125 Introduction 127 The First VazTr : Story of Ahmed the Orphan 137 Story of the Merchant, his Wife, and the Parrot ... 141 The Damsel: Story of the Fuller and his Son 144 Story of the Sultan and the Vazlr's Wife ... ... 144 The Second VazTr : Story of the Officer and the Merchant's Wife ... 148 The Damsel: Story of the Prince and the Ghfd ... ... ... 150 The Third VazTr : Story of the Drop of Honey .. . ... •-. ... 154 Story of the Woman and the Rice-Seller ... ... 155 ■J'he Damsel: Story of the Transformed Prince ... ... ... 156 The Fourth VazTr : Story of the Bathman ... ... ... ... 162 Story of the Old Woman and the She-Dog ... 162 The Damsel: Story of the Goldsmith and the Singing Girl ... 166 The Fifth V.v/.Tr: Story of the Young Man who was taken to the Land of Women ... ... ... .• ... 170 The Damsel: Story of the Lover in the Chest ... ... ... 178 The Sixth VazTr : Story of the Merchant's Wife and her Suitors ... 181 Story of the Three Wishes 190 The Damsel : Story of the Devout Woman and the Magpie ... 191 Story of Prince Bahram and Princess Kd-Detma ... 192 CONTEXTS. The Seventh Va/.Tk : Story of the Burnt \'eil The Prince : Story of the Poisoned Food . . . Conclusion 198 213 214 I The n The in The IV The The \ I The VII The ^ III The L\ The X The XI The XI] The XIII The XIV The XV The XVI The XVII The XVIII The XIX The XX The APPENDIX. Camel, Wolf, and Fox King of the Monkeys Merchant and his Parrot Double Infidelity The Infected Loaves ... Fuller and his Son The Blackguard Two Partridges The Two Pigeons The Bread Elephant ... Prince and the Ghid ... .Snake and the Cat Libertine Husband Monkey and the Boar Go-Between and the She-Dog Pretended Widow Father-in-Law Robber and the Lion Peri and the Devotee (The Three Concealed Robe — The Burnt Veil The Lady in the Glass Ca.se Lion's Track ... W^iles of Women Poisoned Guests Stolen Purse ... W ishe 217 222 222 228 232 233 233 233 233 235 23s 236 241 242 244 247 248 251 243 253 255 256 258 263 266 CONTENTS. I'AGE NO. XXI The Advantages of Travel 268 XXII The Four Liberators ••• 271 XXIII The Damsel's Fate, etc 278 The Fox and the People 278 Destiny, or the Son of the Sage ... •• 280 The Woman and the Abbot 283 The Revolt of Absalom 284 The Death of Absalom 285 The Disguised Young Man 286 The Hunchbacks 287 XXIV Ahmed the Orphan 291 XXV The Drop of Honey 298 XXVI The Changed Sex 299 XXVII The Goldsmith and the Singing Girl 303 XXVIII The Forbidden Doors; or, Curiosity 308 XXIX The Lover in the Chest 310 The Birds : Slave-Boy, etc 310 XXX The Lady and her Suitors 3" XXXI The Amazon ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• 3^2 XXXII The Seven Wise Masters : Introduction ... ... •■• ■•• ••• Z~l The Tree and its Branch 329 The Knight and the Greyhound 329 The Boar and the Herdsman 330 Hippocrates' Nephew ... •■• ••■ 33° Robbery of the King's Treasury 330 The Husband Shut Out 332 The King and his Seneschal 334 The Wise Old Man 335 Merlin's Pillar ZVl The Burgess and Magpie 33^ The Seven Evil Counsellors 338 The Widow who was Comforted • • • • • 338 The Siege of Rome ■ • 343 CONTENTS. NO. PAGE The Two Dreams ..= • 343 The Ravens .' • 348 Conclusion • 350 Comparative Table of Tales • 351 The Spoiled Daughter • 352 The Bad Stepmother... • 352 The Three Knights and the Lady ... • 353 BibHographical Notes • 354 XXXIII DOLOPATHOS; OR, ThE KiNG AND THE SeVEN Sages : Introduction ... . 357 The Dog and the Snake • 359 The King's Treasury . . . • 359 The Best Friend • 360 The Hard Creditor ... • 364 The Widow's Son • 368 The Master Thief ... • 370 The Swan Children ... • 372 The Husband Shut Out • 376 Conclusion •• 377 XXXIV Additional Note : The Tank Df Trial • 377 INDEX 379 INTRODUCTION. bocik: of sindibad; comparative table of the tales in eastern texts Inirod.S, Fox and Mo.ikiy t TheGhul Snnke and Cat ) liojir and Monl - Uiiihkeeper She-Uog Woman's Wilu Poisoned Gikme CoTclesi Mol).« D;iin*«l a Goldsmiili sthVax.: INTRODUCTION. IN a somewhat extravagant eulogium of the romance known throughout Europe from mediaeval times as the History, or Book, of the Seven Sages, Gorres says, that " it sprang originally from the Indian moun- tains, whence from primeval days it took its course as a little rivulet, and flowed in a westerly direction through Asia's wide field, and, while it proceeded for thousands of years through space and time, always spreading more and more in reaching us. Out of it whole generations and many nations have drank; and, having passed to Europe with the great tide of popula- tion, it is now also in our day and generation supplied to such a considerable portion of the public, that in regard to its celebrity and the magnitude of its sphere of influence, it reaches the Holy Book, and surpasses all classical works." This account of the romance is very misleading. The prototype of the Seven Sages was, no doubt, an ancient Indian work (though surely not "thousands of years old") called the Book of Sindibad, from which have sprung two groups of texts. Eastern b INTR OD UC TION. and AVestern : the former derived, mediately or imme- diately, from a common and written source; the latter based upon oral traditions of the romance, brought to Europe by minstrels and pilgrims from the East, and preserving little more than the general plan of the original work. The Eastern group of texts must there- fore be considered as having a distinct and separate history from the Western group. Like so many other Asiatic collections of fiction, this romance in its several versions consists of a number of tales and apologues, strung together by a general story, running throughout the whole work, of which the following is the outline : A monarch, powerful, wise, and just, was very un- hai)py because he had not a son to succeed him on the throne, and he was now far advanced in years. After many earnest prayers to Heaven, he is at length blessed with a son, upon which he assembles the most skilful astrologers to cast his horoscope (as is still customary in the East on the birth of a male child), which is found to portend great danger to his life when he has attained his twentieth year. The king is at first greatly alarmed at this intelligence, but ulti- mately becomes reconciled to the decree of destiny; and, when the child is old enough, he confides him to a tutor, under whose instruction, however, in spite of all his efforts, the young prince makes no progress in learning during several years. The prince is then taken in hand by a profound sage, called Sindibad, but he, too, fails to instruct him — apparently the youth FRAME OF THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. xix is hopelessly stupid. The king, on learning this, is enraged at the philosopher, who, nothing daunted by his failure, now boldly undertakes to teach the prince all necessary knowledge in the space of six months, at the peril of his own life. Having succeeded wnthin less than the stipulated period, before the prince is to be presented to his father, in order to exhibit his varied accomplishments, Sindibad takes an observation of the prince's star, and discovers that he is threatened with loss of life should he utter a word during the seven following days. He communicates this to the prince, and counsels him, notwithstanding, to appear before his father, but on no account to speak until the fatal seven days are passed — for himself, he must hide from the king's wrath. Accordingly, the prince proceeds to the palace, and is warmly embraced by his father, but returns not a word in answer to the questions which are put to him. One of the king's women, secretly in love with the prince, now enters the audience- chamber, and learning that he has been apparently deprived of the power of speech, requests his Majesty's permission to try whether she cannot privately induce the prince to speak, which being granted, she takes the youth into the harem, where she tells him of her love for him, and proposes to poison the king, in order that he may at once ascend the throne. Horrified at the thought of such a heinous crime, the prince upbraids her, and flies out of the room. The damsel, fearing the consequences of her conduct, tears her garments LVTR OD UC TION. and scratches her face, and in this condition presents herself before the king, who inquires the cause of her distress. She rephes that his son, who had only feigned himself dumb, had no sooner entered her apartment than he made love to her, and proposed to poison his Majesty. Believing this false tale, the king immediately commands the executioner to put the prince to death. But this precipitate sentence coming to the knowledge of the king's Seven Vazirs, or counsellors, they determine to save the life of the prince as long as possible, in hopes that his innocence would be established, by each of them in turn relating to the king instances of the craft and malice of women, and warning him against undue haste in affairs of import- ance. The First Vazir accordingly appears before the king, and relates two stories to show that no reliance should be placed upon the accusation of a woman; after which his Majesty remands the prince to prison in the meantime. At night, however, the Damsel counteracts the effect produced in the king's mind by the vazir's tales, by relating a story designed to ex- emplify the deceitful and wicked disposition of men, with the result of inducing the king to resolve once more to put his son to death. In like manner, the tales of the other vazirs are controverted by the damsel, until the seven days are passed, when the prince, being free to s])eak again, informs the king of the damsel's atrocious plot against his life, and relates a number of tales, after which the wicked damsel is punished. FRAME OF THE PANCHA TANTRA. xxi The repeated failures to educate tlie ])rince, tlie father's grief and rage, and the sage finally undertaking to instruct the youth in six months, correspond exactly with the frame of the Pancha Tantra (Five Chapters), a celebrated collection of Hindu fables, in Sanskrit, as old at least as the 6th century; and the resemblance can hardly be merely fortuitous: " There is a city in the southern country, named Mihilaropyam, the king of which, learned and munifi- cent, distinguished among princes and scholars, was named Amara Sacti. He had three sons, youths of no capacity or diligence: Vasu Sacti, Bhadra Sacti, and Ananta Sacti. Observing them averse to study, the king called his counsellors, and said to them : 'You are aware that my sons are little inclined to application, and incapable of reflection. When I con- template them, my kingdom is full of thorns, and yields me no pleasure. It is said by the wise: "Better is a son unborn; better is a dead son, than one who is a fool. The first may cause affliction for a little while? but a fool as long as life endures." Again: "Of what use is a cow who has no milk with her calf? Of what use is a son who has neither knowledge nor virtue? Better it is that a wife be barren, that she bear daughters or dead children, and that the family should become extinct, than that a son, endowed with your form, wealth, and family-credit should want un- derstanding." If, therefore, by any means their minds can be roused, do you declare it.' INTROD UC TION. " On this a counsellor replied : ' Prince, the study of grammar alone is the work of twelve years, how then is a knowledge oi Dharina, Arfha, Kama, and MoksJia^ to be speedily conveyed?' Another counsellor, named Sumati, observed : ' Prince, the powers of man are limited by his transitory existence; but to acquire a knowledge of language alone demands much time. It is better that we think of some means of communicat- ing the substance of each science in a compendious form; as it is said: "The Sahda 6id indeed is the original name, as Hind is of those countries which lie between it and the Ganges." But this etymology of the name is rejected by Benfey, who derives it from Siddhapati, lord of sages, or sorcerers : Siddhi being a Sanskrit word, signifying "perfection of power," and those 1 Both Lane and Falconer write the name Sindibad, a form which is retained in the present work, but which is a com- paratively recent corruption. In the Sheref iVaina, the oldest dictionary of Persian extant (though older vocabularies and glossaries are known), the name is written Sindbdd. " THE CRAFT OF WOMEN:' liii beings called Siddhas, who are supernaturally endowed, figure frequently in Indian fictions. Applied to a mere mortal, Siddhapati would indicate that such a man was wise beyond all others. The termination bad could in no case be identified with dbad, a place or an abode. To what cause, it may be asked, does the Book of Sindibad, as represented more or less closely in Asiatic and European versions, owe its unfailing popularity during so many ages of the world's history ? The leading incident, of a youth being in imminent danger of death in consequence of the malice of his step- mother, has, no doubt, ever had a peculiar fascination for readers of all ranks and ages ; but it is chiefly, as I think, due to the circumstance that most of the subor- dinate tales turn upon the wickedness, profligacy, and craft of women. This is not only a characteristic of Muslim tales, inspired probably by the low estimate which the Prophet of Mecca is credited by tradition with having entertained of the female sex, but it also pervades much more ancient Indian fictions. These attributes, as Dr. H. H. Wilson has observed, probably " originate in the feelings w^hich have always pervaded the East unfavourable to the dignity of women. But we are not to mistake the language of satire, or the licentiousness of wit, for truth, or to sui)])osc lliat liv INTRODUCTION. the pictures which are thus given of the depravity of women owe not much of their colouring to tlie mahgnity of men. The avidity with which this style of portraiture was adopted and improved upon in Europe shows that either the women of Christian Europe were still more vicious than those of India, or the men were still less disposed to treat them with deference and esteem. It is in this respect that stories of domestic manners contrast so remarkably with the inventions of chivalric romance; and the homage paid in the latter to the \-irtues and graces of the female sex is a feature derived, in all probability, from that portion of their parentage which comes from the North, woman being ever held in higher honour amongst the Teutonic nations than amongst those of the South of Europe or of the East, and contributing, by the elevating influence she was permitted to enjoy, to their moral exaltation and martial superiority." Our old English jest-books abound in tales of the levity and perverseness of women, which are paral- leled in the popular literature of all other European countries. The well-worn story of the man whose perverse wife was drowned, and he sought her against the stream, alleging to his neighbours that she would be sure to float up the river instead of being carried with the current, is also domiciled in Oermany, Scan- dinavia, and Russia. — An Eastern anecdote to the same purpose seems a commentary on a saying ascribed to Muhammad that a man should always do the o]-)posite THE CRAFT OF WOMEN." of what his wife advises : A young man once went on the roof of his house to repair it, and having finished the task, called to his wife, and asked her how he should come down. She answered: " Vou are a young and active man- what hinders you from jumping down?" He jumped accordingly, and dislocated his ankle, which confined him to the house for many months; and even when able to go about a little, his ankle was still out of its place. He again had occasion to repair his roof, and when he had done, he asked his wife how he should come down this time. " O, by the stairs, to be sure," quoth she. But when he reflected how he had come to grief by following his wife's advice formerly, he resolved to jump down, which he did, and, behold, his ankle returned to its proper place. It would appear that collections of " proverbs " against women were common in England in the days of Chaucer, if we may credit the Wife of Bath, whose fifth husband, Jankins, clerk of Oxenforde, we are told, had a book comprising tales of the wickedness of wives, which he frequently pored over with pleasure. One evening he was reading aloud portions of his book, which so incensed his spouse that she tore three leaves out of it, and then knocked him backwards into the fire. Her husband, who was but half her age, bounded u}) and felled her to the floor. Lying moaning, as if at the point of death, she begged him to stoop down, that she might kiss him in token of her forgiveness. The husband bunt down, when, instead of kissing, she 1 vi INTR OD UC TION. bit him on the cheek. The end of the brawl was that he became very penitent and burnt his book. The sages of ancient Greece were no whit behind the fablers of India in their bitter sayings about women. Thus Antiphanes : " In a woman one thing only I believe, that when she is dead she will not come to life again; in all else I distrust her until she is dead;" and Menander: " Of all wild beasts on earth or in sea, the greatest is woman;" again: "Where are women there are all kinds of mischief ;" and Diogenes, seeing some women who had been hanged from the boughs of an olive-tree, said : " I wish all trees bore that kind of fruit." Whether Somadeva is to be credited with all the spiteful remarks upon women in the Katha Sarit Sdgara, or he has merely versified what he found ready to hand in the Vrihat Katha, some are con- ceived in the most malignant spirit ; for example : "Women, like prosperous circumstances, are never faithful to any one in this world;" again: "A fickle dame is like a sunset, momentarily aglow for every one;" and again: "Do not put yourself in the power of a woman: the heart of a female is a tangled maze." But he is not always unjust: " Here and there you will find a virtuous woman, who adorns a glorious family as the streaks of the moon adorn a broad sky." THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. EDITOR'S PREFACE. The following analytical account of a unique Persian MS. poem, entitled Siiidiluld A^dina, or the Book of Sindibad, belonging to the Library of the India Office, was published by Professor Forbes Falconer in the Asiatic Journal, vols. XXXV and xxxvi, 1841. By the courtesy of Dr Rost, I have been favoured with a loan of this manuscript, which is beauti- fully written in the ia'llq character, and adorned with numerous paintings. Unfortunately, several laaiihf occur throughout the volume, and thirtv leaves are misplacerl. It now comprises about 1 70 folia, and 5000 couplets. The original numbering of the leaves seems to have been cut away when it received its present Oriental binding, as many of the full-page pictures are imperfect at the lop, and tlie re-numbcring is in a different hand from that of the text, and made consecutive, notwith- standing the displaced and missing leaves. Owing probably to the defective condition of the MS., Falconer has altogether o\erlooked one story (the title of which is written in faint blue ink at the foot of a page) and the remains of two others : (mm which il is rxldcnl that in this text, as in all others ol ihc F.a^tcrn grou)) of tl'c Siiuli/xnl, each of the Seven X'azii's liad originally two stories. He states that in his analysis he has " sometimes, for the purpose of giving the reader a better idea of the work and of the aullior's style, freely used his own difluse THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. and Orientally fanciful expressions and imagery ; and sometimes compressed his narrative and trimmed his exuberance (for com- pression and curtaihnent were necessary in analysing a work of such extent) ; and sometimes, especially when the tale was already familiar to readers in other works, or objectionable in its nature, satisfied himself with giving the title, or a reference to the corresponding portion of the Greek version. Those who know the difficulties of Persian poetry," he justly adds, "and the disadvantage of possessing but a single manuscript, will not only excuse, but will even lay their account with meeting, occasional misapprehensions of the sense." An account of the several Eastern texts of the Book of Sindibad being given in the introductory pages of the present volume, Falconer's preliminary observations on the same subject neetl not be here reproduced ; indeed, they are rather out of date, so many important discoveries regarding this work having been made of recent years. His plan of leaving some of the tales untranslated must be unsatisfactory to students of the genealogy of popular fictions, since it is only by comparing different versions of these stories that their original forms can be ascertained. Stories which are not objectionable are therefore now presented as fully as the state of the manuscript permits, and the additions and corrections printed within square brackets; while such of Falconer's notes as have been retained are dis- tinguished by the letter F from those for which I must be held responsible. W. A. C. THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. Introduction. After the customary opening with an invocation and address to the Deity, a chapter in praise of the Prophet, a complaint against fortune, and an exhorta- tion to contentment and abandonment of the world, the author proceeds, in the fifth chapter, to inform the reader that he had himself no thought of composing a jjoem, no desire to plunge into such a sea of difficulty ; that he was too sensible of his own want of genius to think of such an undertaking: but lliat one night his Afajesty — that King whose fortune is awake, and whose equal the eye of Time beholds not even in its dreams — addressed him, and, while he compli- mented him on his talents, complained that he did not sufficiently exert them. " He observed," says the poet, " that the nightingale should not sit for ever songless, nor the parrot mute; that I possessed the gift of eloquence and sweet discourse; but that I was lazy, lazy, lazy ! ' Perform,' said he, ' such an achieve- ment, with the sword of the pen, as shall live as long as swords are wielded. Turn into verse, during my THE BOO A' OF SI XD IB AD. reign, some prose work, that my memory may l)e perpetuated: let it be the Tale of Sindibad.' With downcast looks, I replied : ' If God grant me his aid, and if my life be spared, I will turn into verse that ■celebrated book.' "I gave ear (for to neglect a commandment is a fault, especially a sujjreme command of a king), and when seventy-six [years] were added to 700,^ in the reign of the sultan resembling Jamshid;- the king of the world; the refuge of the khalifate; the possessor of the throne, the signet, and the diadem; who plucks up by the roots violence and oppression; the asylum of Arabia; the crown-bestower of Persia; the munifi- cent, bold, and dauntless king, before whose prowess ' A. H. 776, or A. D. 1374-5. The author was therefore a con- temporary of Hilfiz, who died A. D. 1389. — Falconer has errone- ousl}' rendered this passage: " I had heard that disobedience to the command of a sovereign is culpable ; and at the time indicated by the words, t/ie sithlivic viandate of the King, when seventy-six years had passed beyond 700," for which, on the authority of Mr. J. W. Redhouse, the above is substituted. A poet never gives a date in full words and in values also; and he would certainly not give it both wa}'s when they did not agree — the supposed chronogram, rendered by Falconer, siihUmc viandate of the King, would indicate the year 779, while the author, we have seen, gives the exact date as 776. - Jamshid was the fifth of the Pishdadl (or Achsemenian) dynasty of ancient Persian kings, concerning whom many extravagant legends are related — amongst which, that he pos- sessed a magical cup, or goblet, that reflected the whole world and all events and achievements. IXTKODIXTIOX. lion and tiger flee; — I composed the following work, and thus reared an edifice proof against all the assaults ol'iiuK-, and not such a structure that any one can designate as the ■house of the spider.""' The chapter in which the tale commences affords, in the opening couplet, another allusion to the author (jf the prose work, of wliich this is a ])oetical para- phrase, informing us that the poet's original was written in Persian, but that its author was an Arab by descent. Perhaps this might afford some ground lor the conjecture that the Arab had found the tale in the language of his family, and translated it from Arabic into Persian. Loiseleur Des Longchamps, however, who was not acquainted with the existence of the present work, was of opinion that the tale was first translated into Persian (from the Sanskrit), and from Persian into Arabic. " An Arabian by descent, but speaking the Persian tongue, has thus informed me in eloquent language, that there reigned in India a sage and mighty mon- arch, ^ the bricks of whose palace were not of stone or marble, but of gold; the fuel of whose kitchen 1 In the Greek version the scene is laid in Persia, and the monarch's name is Cyrus ; in the Hebrew translation the scene, as above, is in India, "in the land of Hind," or Hodu, as it is most frequently written in the MS., and the king's name is P)ibar ; in the old Castilian version, the scene is also in India, and the name of the king is Alcos ; in the Breslau (Arabic) text, the scene is in China, THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. was fresh wood of aloes; who had brought under the signet of his authority the kingdoms of Rum and Abyssinia; and to whom were ahke tributary the Ethiop Mihraj (Maharaj) and the Roman Qaysar. He was distinguished above all monarchs for his virtue, his clemency and justice. But, although he was the refuge of the khalifate, he was not blessed with an heir: life and the world appeared profitless to him, because he had no fruit of the heart in the garden of his soul."' One night, while reclining on his coucli, sad and thoughtful, consumed with grief like a morning taper, he heaved a deep sigh, upon which one of his favourite wives (he had a hundred in his harem^), advancing towards him and kissing the ground, inquired the cause of his distress. He discloses it. His wife consoles him, encourages him to hope, and assures him that if he prayed, his prayers would be answered; but that at all events it was his duty to be resigned to the will of God. "Prayer is the only key that will open the door of difficulty." The king fasted for a whole week, and was assiduous in his devotions.- One night 1 According to Syntipas, he had seven wives ; the Hebrew translator assigns him eighty, and calls this one Beria. In the old Castilian translation he is said to have had ninety wives. - The Hebrew translation agrees with this version in repre- senting the king as both fasting and praying. In the Arabian version, the king requests his nobles and subjects to pray that God would bless him with a son. — A parallel case is found in IXTRODUCriOA^. he prayed with i)eruHar earnestness and self-abasement till morning. The companion of his couch was one of liis wives, fairer than the sun, and the envy of a peri. He clasped her in his embrace, exclaiming: "There is no strength, no power, save in God!" and he felt assured in his heart that his prayer was granted. In due time a son is born to him. Eager to testify his gratitude, he bestows munificent gifts, and lavishes his treasures on all. The babe is entrusted to a nurse. The most distinguished astrologers are commanded to cast his nativity. Among their number was one of the most skilful explorers of the heavens, who, upon completing his observations, intimated to the king that his son would be fortunate above other monarchs; but that a danger awaited him, from which, however, it was likely, thanks to his auspicious fortune, that no injury would accrue.^ His the Persian romance of tlie Four Dervishes (Kissa-i Chchar DarvTsh), where King Azadbakht, having secluded himself through sorrow because he had not a son to succeed him, is advised by his prime vazir to distribute alms among the poor and needy, and oftcr up frequent prayers to God — no one ever yet returned hopeless from his threshold. 1 In the Mishit' Sandahar, after the birth of the prince, the king assembles all the sages, and by his order they select a thousand out of themselves, these select a hundred, and they select seven, who draw the horoscope of the prince, and find that he is threatened with some misfortune when twenty years of age. So, too, in the old Castilian translation, we are told, the king "sent for all the wise men of his kingdom to come to THE BOOK OF SIX DIB AD. Majesty is filled with anxiety at this information, but at length becomes resigned to the will of Heaven, and acknowledges tliat the decrees of destiny cannot be countervailed. When the ]jrince had attained his tenth year, his father the sultan confided him to the care of a learned preceptor. " Base copper has by care been transmuted into gold: and a worthless stone converted to a gem." That accomplished and erudite professor devoted his whole time to the educa- tion of the prince; but all his exertions were unavail- ing. " However loudly he shouted, that mountain gave back no echo; however much he sowed, in that soil no grain sprang up." His pupil knew not ab-u-jadd (father and grandfather) from ahjad ; could not dis- tinguish Muhammad from Auhad. When asked how many make thirty, he replied, "ten;" and to the question, What is night 1 he answered, "the moon." When asked about the tliorn, he spoke of "'fresh dates;" when desired to s^iy Jire, he said "fuel." His father was in constant uneasiness about the prince, and made him and examine the hour and the minute of his son's birth ;" and having cast the prince's horoscope, they told the king that "he should have long life and great powers, but at the end of twenty years something should happen between him and his father, through which he should be in danger of death." In the Breslau (Arabic) text, the misfortune was to occur "during his youth." This has been suppressed in Syiitipas, and also in .Scott's Si-vcn VazTrs ; in the latter, the danger to the prince is foretold to the king's favourite concubine in a vision. /.\ /-KODCCnOX. frequent inquiries as to his progress. When he found him, year after year, in the same state of perfect ignorance, liis wrath was kindled against the blameless and unhai)py preceptor, wliom he rejjroached for the backwardness of his son. He then called together tlie philosophers of the city, each of whom was the Aristotle of his age; and after desiring them to be seated, and showing them the most flattering attentions, he detailed to them all the circumstances connected with his son's history, and the cause of his anxiety. " A\'retched," said he, " is he who digs the mine, or rather, who vexes his own soul; who expects to find gold, and grasps but dust! With vows I implored Clod to grant me this son; I now repent me that I have asked him. How well said the sailor to the captain of the ship: 'Leave the concerns of God to God!' The unleavened mass hath not become leavened; nor hath one spoonful of butter been obtained from ten skins of milk ! Tell me," continued the king, " what expedient shall I adopt to remedy this, and who is the person best qualified to carry it into execution? I have none to succeed me in the kingdom save this son. Deliberate, there- fore; and when your counsel is matured, a course of conduct may be founded on it." The sages, who were seven in number, bowed the head in token of obedience, and expressed their wishes for his Majesty's [jrosperity and happiness. It was then arranged that they should meet for the THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. purpose of discussing the matter together. The learned master, of whom this tale remains as a memorial (says the writer of the poem), thus pro- ceeds: Those experienced sages accordingly one day met in private consultation, and conversed freely on the subject. One of them observed : " O wise men, how can the pulp of colocynth supply the place of sugar? The tree which, when ten years old, has yielded no fruit, the labour of ten years has been entirely thrown away upon it. " Another remarked : "Never can the rose spring from the dry willow: how can the musk-willow bear, as its fruit, the musk-bag?" One of those worthies, who had not his equal, who had no rival among those whom you know {i.e., among the seven), a buzurjmihr,i experienced in affairs, a sage resembling Aristotle — his name Sindibad- — said, in reply to these observations : " The hawk which has dwelt free and happy in its nest is, nevertheless, subjected to a master; learns from the falconer to soar and seize its prey, and to return when called, and quietly perch on the hand of kings. Why should not the prince, too, be capable of being taught the art of government and the duties of his station ? Despair not: everything may be effected by labour and deter- ^ One of great soul. - In the Calcutta and Bulaq printed Arabic texts the name of this sage is also Sindibad; in the Syriac, Sindbiin, and (once) Sindbadin ; in the Greek, Syntipas ; in the Hebrew, Sandabar ; and in the old Spanish version, Cendubete. IXTRODUCTION. 13 mination. The fortress of the mine must be stormed ere the ruby can be obtained." The other sages warmly applauded the wisdom of Sindibad, and assured him that they considered him the fittest person to whom the important and difficult charge of the prince's education could be entrusted. Sindibad replied, that he was not to be moved by their com- pliments and flattery; that he saw as little advantage likely to result to him from such a course as the monkey derived from the stratagem of the old fox. They requested him to tell them the story, upon which he began : Story of tli£ Old Fox and the Monkey. Once upon a time an old fox was put to great shifts for his subsistence, and resolved to exert all his wits to procure it. After offering up a prayer for success to his endeavours, he set out and ran. When he had advanced some way he saw a fish ; he was delighted, and congratulated himself on his good fortune; but, upon reflection, he perceived that the case was one which called for wariness and circumspection; for the place was a dry uncultivated valley, without water, a spot where one sees not a fish, save in his dreams. Neither sea was there nor fishmonger's shop. Ad- vancing two miles, he met a young monkey, ujjon seeing whom he felt that he had found the key where- with lo unlock Iiis difficulty. He ran up to him. 14 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. saluted him, and said: "Well met! The gazelles and the wild asses send you their salutations through me, and beg that you will come to their assistance against the tyranny of the lion, who is never satiated Avith shedding innocent blood. Come, that Ave may bestow on you the royal crown. They are waiting for your Majesty farther on the road." The monkey was deceived by these flattering expressions, and his ambition threw him into the pitfall. " Advance,'"' said he, " and lead the way."" ^^'hen they reached the spot and saw the fish. '• You,"' said the fox, "have the first claim to this morsel, for you are my prince and sovereign."' The monkey, blinded by his cupidity, went forward to seize the fish, and was instantly caught in a snare from which he was unable to escape. Upon this, the fox sat down quietly to eat the fish. "What means this?" inquired the monkey. "From whose table is this dainty?" "The poor," replied the fox, "cannot afford to flee from bread. Fetters and imprisonment befit the dignity of kings: make not, O sage, your mind uneasy." The philosophers were loud in their praises of Sindibad on his concluding this tale, and compared him to the sun, and themselves to the motes in the sunbeam. " If I am not wiser than yourselves." replied he, " 1 am at least not inferior to you in wisdom. Your case and my own, in this respect, reminds me of the camel, llie wolf, the fox, and ihc /.\'TK0DL'C770X. 1$ pumpkin." The)' requested to hear the story, and Sindibad related it as follows : S/oiy of the CaiiicL the Wolf, the Fox, and the l^iiiiipkiii. Ax t)ld wolf and a fox, intimate friends, were once lra\-elling together. A short way before them they saw a camel, who joined then., and the three togellier took the road to the village of the camels. Their only provision for the journey consisted of a pumi)kin. They travelled on for a long time, up hill and down dale, till, exhausted by the heat of the road, their eyes jjecame black with thirst. At length they reached a pond full of \vater, and sat down on its brink. The pumpkin was produced, and after some discussion, it was agreed that this prize should belong to liim who was the eldest among them. first the wolf began: "Indian, Tajik, and Turk, know, that my mother bore me one week before Ciod had created heaven and earth, time and space; con- seciuently, I have the best right to this pumpkin." " Yes," said the old and crafty fox, " I have nothing to object to this account; for on the night your mother bore you, I was standing by in attendance. That morning it was I that lit the taper, and I burned beside your pillow like a morning taper.'' W'lien the camel had heard their speec:hes to an end, he stalked forward, and, bending down his neck, 1 6 THE BOOK OF SIAWIBAD. snapped up the pumpkin, observing: " It is impossible to conceal a thing so manifest as this — that with such a neck, and haunches, and back as mine, it was neither yesterday nor last night that my mother bore me." [i]i The sages again expressed their admiration of the wisdom of Sindibad, and all agreed that he alone was competent to undertake the difficult task. Repairing into the presence of the king, they acknowledged that they were but babes in wisdom compared with Sindibad; upon which his Majesty, addressing the philosopher, begged him to undertake the manage- ment and education of the i)rince. Sindibad con- sented, expressing his hope and confidence that his efforts would be successful. He accordingly applied himself with zeal to the education of the prince, but all his efforts were fruitless; all his instructions were like writing upon water. The king, hearing of this, was much concerned. Never does a parent wish ill to his child, but, on the contrary, desires that he may be better than himself In anger he said to Sindibad : " All your boasted care and exertion have proved but wind; your promises were but the sound of the bell and the drum. Does not even the wild beast, which cannot be taken in the net, become tame at last by persevering efforts ? Had due diligence been bestowed ^ The figures within brackets refer to notes in Appendix. IXTKODCCTIOX. 17 upon my son, tlic rust would have been effaced from the mirror of his mind."i "Sire," replied Sindihad, "I have made every exertion, and tried every art; but when fate seconds not our efforts, we are not to blame." Then, kissing the foot of the throne, he observed: "The situation of myself and tlic young prince resembles that of the King of Kashmir with the elephant and the elephant-keeper." The king desiring to hear the story, Sindibad related it as follows : Stoiy of the King of Kashmir and the Elephant. I\ the time of the Masters of the Elephant,'- there reigned over Kashmir a wise and prudent king, who had conquered the whole kingdom of Hindustan, from 1 Metallic mirrors, such as were used by the ancients, arc here alluded to. Thus a Persian poet says: "Many have been melted down in this crucible : when have they made a mirror of every [kind of] iron?" - The miraculous defeat of the host of Abralui, on its approach to Mecca for the purpose of destroying the Ka'ba, occurred in the same year in which Muhammad was born. Abraha and his army arc alluded to in the (^ur'an, under the title of Lords, or Masters, of the Elephant, from their bringing with them, according to some, thirteen elephants, which they had obtained from the King of Ethiopia. Others mention but one. See Sale's Koran, ch. 105, and note. — F. P. l8 THE BOOK OP Six DIB AD. Serendil (Ceylon)^ to Rum and Syria, and to whom were subject all the princes of the world. This sove- reign had collected elej^hants instead of steeds, and in greater numbers than fleas or ants. A certain prince once sent to his court a wild elephant of prodigious size and impetuosity. The king desired the elephant- keeper to tame him, promising him ample rewards when he had succeeded. After the labour and con- stant care of three years, the skilful man had not only subdued his ferocity, but made him pliable as wax. He, therefore, brought him to the ajjpointed place, and exhibited him to the king, who was satisfied with his success; and the royal litter being adjusted, his Majesty seated himself in it, l\v way of trial. No sooner had he mounted, than, like a demon that leaps from a bottle- — like a lion rushing from a thicket — • the elephant darted off with the monarch, and flew ^ Serendil, or, as it is commonly and more correctly written, Serendib, bciny apparently derived from the Sanskrit SinhadvJpa, Lion Island. — F. - Falconer remarks that this recalls the legend of the Bottle Imp ; and cites, in the original Persian, a couplet from another part of the text, which ma}- be thus rendered : " r>y predominant might lie ]iut the demon in the bottle ; The genii howled and whined on account of him. "" This is probably in allusion to the Muslim legend of Solomon's feat of enclosing the demon Sakhr in a copper vessel, sealing it with his magical signet, and casting it into the Lake of Tiberias, where Sakhr is to remain until the day of judgment. According iXTRODi'CTlOX. 19 ^vilI^ llie speed of lightning over hill and dale. The prince, with no guide to control or govern the animal, abandoned all hope of life, and all expectation that ''the elephant would think again of Hindustan."^ Raising his hands to heaven, he prayed for deliverance. ^\■hen the divine mandate issues forth, elephant and ant are alike impotent to resist it. Tired with the long journey (for it was now evening), and having eaten nothing, the elephant turned and took his way homeward. When he reached his stable, he stooped down, and the prince dismounted unhurt. Enraged with the keeper, he ordered him to be trodden like the ant under the feet of the elephant. Fettered and manacled, he was thrown under the furious animal. to other legends, Solomon treated all the rebellious genii in like manner. The story of the Fisherman and the Genie (Jiniu) must be familiar to all readers of the Arabian A'i^/i^s. This notion of demons being confined in bottles is also prevalent in Cliina. See Mr. Giles' Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, vol. i, p. 81. The leading idea of Le Dialile Boiteiix was suggested to Le Sage by that of the Spanish novel El Diable Cojnelo, in which a student accidentally enters the house of a conjuror, and delivers a demon from a glass bottle where he had been imprisoned. i Compare this passage with the following one from Haflz, which it illustrates: "Either take note of the customs of the elephant-keeper, or do not bring India into the memory of the elephant;" and with another, from Mir RazT, ciuoted by the author of the 'Atishkada: " Take hold of my chain, O friends ! for my elephant brings to mind India," The allusion seems to have become proverbial. 20 THE BOOK OF SiXDIBAD. Finding himself in this situation, he thus reflected: "The prey that is entangled in the net struggles whether it will or not ; and it is never too late to hope for deliver- ance."' He implored the king to forgive one whose hair had grown gray in the service; but he refused. Long he continued to entreat forgiveness, but the king was still inexorable. At length, again repairing into the presence of his Majesty, he renewed his entreaties. " I taught the elephant," said he, " whatever was proper; but, as fortune favoured me not, it was of no avail. If the king will spare my life, I will give proof of my assertion." When his Majesty heard this, and beheld the poor man's orphan children at his feet, he ordered him to be unfettered. The keeper then proved the perfect tameness of the animal bv giving it orders to perform a variety of feats, all which it executed. Then addressing the king, he said: "I have taught this animal to perform with its various members the whole of the feats which are i)ractised; but what avails it when his heart, which is the sultan of the body,^ listens not to my orders ? " "In short," observed Sindibad, "what occurred to the ele})hant-keeper arose from certain evil asjiects in ^ So in the Khatinia to the Rauuiin-'s-Siifa, the author, in stating that the Khataians place those whom they wish to honour on the left hand, assigns this reason: "Because the heart, which is the sultan of the city of the body, has its mansion on that side.'" — F. IXTKODi'Cr/OX. his horoscope, and from no fault of his. Tliiis, O king," continued the sage, " I have examined the horoscope of the prince, and find that all that was evil in it is past; he will henceforward be pros])erous. I will now proceed to teach him all I know, to shower upon him all the learning that I have amassed. AMien six months shall have ela])sed from this date, I will have imparted to him the fruit of thirty years' study." ^ The ministers and courtiers of the king were amazed at such language, and considered his words as an empty boast. " Attemi)t it not," said one of them: " seeing that your six years' labour has been fruitless, how can this be accomplished in six months?" Another courtier said: "Seeing he learned nothing in his childhood, how can he become a master when he is grown up ?" ***** There is here a deficiency in the manuscript, viz., after fol. 25, probably of one leaf; and two leaves that ^ In the Greek text the sage says: "Having educated him for six months, I will so fill him with all philosophy that none shall be found more learned than he." In the Syriac text the period is "six months and two hours." In the Hebrew version : " I will teach the son of the king in six months so that there shall not be found the like of him in all the land of Hodu [or Hind]." In the old Spanish translation : " I will so teach him in six months that no one shall have more knowledge than he ;" and in reply to one of the other sages, who blamed him for his rashness; "Thou shalt see, if God will and I live, that I will THE BOOK OF SIXDIBAD. ought to follow are misplaced and incorrectly num- bered — fols. 14 and 15. * » * * * The king, now satisfied that Sindibad had not been Avanting in his exertions, continues him in his office of preceptor to the prince. Sindibad accordingly resumes his instructions. At fol. 14 the author is describing the philosopher's preparations for his lectures; the beginning of the chapter is wanting. Sindibad caused the walls of a lofty palace to be covered over with plaster, so smooth as to have the appearance of a mirror. On one compartment were delineated the signs of the zodiac, with the divisions into degrees and minutes; the fixed stars; the planets, with their courses. On another compartment he drew a map of the world, and represented the noxious and salutary qualities of things, of which some are the cause of disease and others the cure. On a third compartment were inscribed the principles of commerce, religion, and morality; and one's duties towards his superiors and equals. On a fourth were exhibited the principles of music and melody, and the distinctions of the musical modes. On a fifth, the rules of justice, the ceremonial of princely dignity, and the forms of teach him in six months what another would not teach him in seventy years. " In Scott's version the stipulated period is two years ; — this part of the story is much abridged in the other Arabic texts. IXTKODrCT/OX. 23 ecjuity.^ When the whole was completed, Sindi.bad thus addressed his pu])!! : "Prince, the time for ap])li- cation has now arrived ; be diligent ; it is no time tor slumber. 'I 'lie virtues that adorn kings come not by inheritance; they must be acquired." The \)X\\\vc listened with attention to the instructions of his master. Much did he study; many a bitter cup of poison did he drink. His mind, clear as a mirror, reflected the knowledge depicted on the walls. His l)rogress was rapid, and in a short time he became deeply learned. ^^■hen the ai)pointed i)eriod was completed, Sindibad said to his pupil: " Praise be to the Lord and Creator of the world, that, through his grace, I shall not be l)Ut to shame before men ! AMien, to-morrow, I take you before the sultan, you will sec how they will bite their nails.- Rest assured of this, that of all your equals in age not one will be a match for you." Sindibad then during the night took an observation to ascertain the destiny of the prince, and found that an intricate snare threatened his pu])il. He was con- founded and perplexed by this new difficulty.'' But it ^ " He built for the son of the king a spacious new house, and embellishing the inside of the house, he narrated on the walls of the house as much as he intended teaching the boy." — Synfi/^as. - Biting the nails, or fingers, is a very common mode in the East of exhibiting anger, grief, or astonishment. ■*"The philosopher then, having learned from astrological inquiry, was confounded." — Syiitipas. 24 rin: book of sixdibad. is vain to contend against destiny: when it descends, the eye becomes bhnd. " Be not cast down," said lie to the jjrince, "at the caprice of fortune, but •to-morrow, when you appear before the king, whatever questions you may be asked, answer nothing. Bear \\\) for this week; the next, your affairs will become prosperous. If but a word escape your lips, your life and head will be endangered. Lo! I hasten to conceal myself, and no one shall see me for one week, for my life is in peril. ^ I will wait to see whether the two dice of heaven will turn up three sixes or three aces." The whole of the next chapter is wanting in the manuscript, but the title of it is given at the end of fol. 15, as follows: "The king sits in state, and sends for the prince and Sindibad, but the latter is nowhere to be found. His Majesty questions the prince, who makes no reply." The title and commencement of the next chapter are also wanting. At fol. 26 the poem proceeds : 1 "Therefore from to-morrow I shall conceal myself," &c. — Syntipas.—'' Said Sandabar to the king's son : ' Behold, I have sent to thy father to announce that thou shalt go to him to-morrow, and I have not observed thy constellation.' And Sandabar observed the stars, and saw that if the son of the king should open his mouth within seven days, he should instantly be slain; and Sandabar IxarnhX^^.''' —Mishlc Sandabar. /.vyA'0/>rc770.\: A peri-faced moon^ (one of the wives of his Majesty), fair as a huri- of Paradise, was secretly enamoured of the prince, but had hitherto found no opportunity of meeting him alone, or of telling him her love. Upon hearing the account of his resolute silence when questioned, she said to herself: " Every occasion has its fitting language;" and repairing to the king, she asked his permission to take the prince to the harem, under pretence of endeavouring to extort from him the secret of his silence. This was granted. Ikit with her also the prince was dumb. At length she declares her passion for him, and offers to init him in possession of the kingdom in return for his confidence. Upon this the prince, forgetting in his surprise his jn-omise to Sindibad, breaks silence by asking her how this was to be done. "Easily," replied she; "by one drop of poi-son which I will administer to the king." Horror- struck at the idea of such a crime, the prince, after earnestly reprobating it, (piits the apartment. The damsel is alarmed when slie reflects on the danger of her situation should the prince reveal the 1 Peris are good genii, or fairies, of both sexes, though the term is generally applied to females. Amongst us the phrase " moon-faced " is the opposite of complimentary; in Oiiental poetry, however, it is the favourite similitude in describing a beautiful girl or boy ; and our own poets Spencer and Shak- speare have made use of the same comparison. - Hurls (or houris) are the black-eyed beauties promised in the Qur'an as the companions of the faithful in Paradise, 26 THE BOOK OF SIXDIBAD. treachery which she had proposed, when the seven davs shall have passed, and he shall break silence.^ Full of these apprehensions, she rushed from her apartment into the presence of the king, and. in affected agitation, called loudly for his protection. In answer to his inquiries as to the cause of her alarm, she replied: "My reputation is scattered to the winds! No sooner had I conducted the prince into the harem than he began to say : ' Hie reason of my silence is, that my heart is ensnared in your tresses, and my soul slain bv the curve of your eyebrows. Now that fortune has put it in my power, I entreat you to lend me your assistance. I have a secret to impart to you. I mean to seize upon the kingdom. The leaders of the troops are already secured in my favour. You can effectually aid me in my purpose by administering poison to my father.'" To this false accusation the king gives credit; and, believing that the prince thirsted for his blood, com- mands that he should be ignominiously put to death. ^ The prince must therefore have informed the damsel of his .seven days' silence, and the fact was probably omitted by the copyist. In the Greek, Hebrew, and Castilian versions he says to her: "When seven days are passed I shall be able to give thee the answer that thou deservest," and there can be no doubt that this was in the original text of the Sindihad. In Scott's Seven J'azTrs, the prince is represented as mentally addressing the damsel in these terms — an " improvement " of the translator or transcriber. IXTRODi'CriOX. 27 The executioner is ordered to behead him. Mean- while, the vazlrs,^ who were met together in council, on hearing this inconsiderate sentence, were greatly concerned. 'I'he eldest addresses them on the necessity of warning his Majesty of the danger of prccijiitation, and of the folly of trusting to the testimony of women; giving it as his conviction that the charge, if intjuired into, would be found to l)e false, and that the iimocence of the i)rince would be ultimately established. Another of the vazu'S was of oi)inion that, as they had not been consulted on the subject, it was unnecessary for them to interfere, and that silence was their safest course. To this argument the eldest vazir replied, that if they neglected to listen to his advice, the same thing might happen to them at last as befell the monkeys. The vazlrs requesting to hear what that was, he thus related : Story of tJic King of the Monkeys'? When you have quitted Nihawand, going out by the Lion's (late, there lies beyond it a village called Buzina-Ciard,-' the neighbourhood of which is thickly 1 These vazlrs should not be confounded with the seven wise men (see p. 11), one of whom is Sindibad. - This tale, related by the chief vazir, and tlie three, told by Sindibad, pp. 13, 15, and 17, are not found in Syntlpas, or any other version. ^ Monlvey Town. 28 THE BOOK OF SIXDIBAD. inhabited by monkeys. There, amid the trees laden with fruit, and by a running stream, the monkeys used to congregate. The surrounding forest was full of them; and there reigned over them a sage monarch, named Ruz-i-bih,^ who, in magnanimity and generosity, was no monkey, but a lion, and who, although aged, had all the vigour of youth. His cheek like the ruddy rose, his beard white; he was ever fresh and gay, like the red willow. Much had he experienced of the world's red and white; much of its hot and cold. His subjects were all obedient and loyal, secure and happy. Their granaries were well stored with figs and walnuts; and they had herds of goats browsing in the forest — ■ a paradise — rather, the model of the Garden of Irani - — a place where pleasure was rife and pain unknown! ^ Whose day is good, or excellent. - A fabulous earthly paradise, designed, according to Muslim legend, by an impious king of El-Yaman (Arabia Felix), named Shaddad, as a rival to that of the spiritual world. The palace was constructed of gold and silver bricks in alternate courses, the walls set with pearls, rubies, emeralds, and other gems ; in the garden were trees of gold and silver, besides others bearing the most delicious fruits. After five hundred years this paradise was completed, and Shaddad, with a numerous retinue, in the utmost pomp and splendour, marched from his capital towards it. As he was about to enter the gates, the Angel of Death appeared before him, and seized upon his impure soul ; and instantly the lightnings consumed all his attendants, and the Rose-Garden of Iram sank into the earth, and became hidden from the sight of men. iXTkODCCTlOX. 29 In the forest was a mountain as high as Ahvand.^ Thither tliis king having on one occasion gone to hunt, and looking towards the town and market wliich were on it, he saw, at the corner of a street, a goat constantly butting at an old woman. Calling to hini the leaders of his army, he desired them to look in that direction, and observe what was going on. The king was himself of opinion that, as the flocks were all his own subjects, it was his duty to interfere; but the general of the army thought the matter too trifling to be noticed. The dispute waxed high, and, as the officers of the army sided with their general, the monarch abdicated, and withdrew to another country, and they chose a new king. The goat still continued its practice of butting at the old woman ; and one day that she had been to ask flre from a neighbour, the goat struck her so violently with his horns when she was off her guard as to draw blood. Enraged at this, she applied the fire which she held to the goat's fleece, which kindled, and the animal ran to the stables of the elephant-keeper, and rubbed his sides against the reeds and willows. The)- caught fire, which the wind soon spread, and the head and face of tlie warlike elephants were scorclied. A\ hen the news reached tlie sovereign to whom the elephants belonged, he sent for the chief-keeijer, and 1 A mountain in Persia, once, if not still, popularly believed to be sixteen miles in heitrlit ! 30 THE BOOIv OF^SIXDIBAD. asked liim what was best to be done for the cure of the elephants. " I have heard one skilled in such matters affirm," replied he, "on the authority of an ancient leech, that when elephants are scorched, the best remedy is the fat of monkeys rubbed gently over them with the hand." Upon this the king gave orders that horsemen should go forth and scour the whole forest, hunting down every animal they should find of the monkey tribe. Accordingly, an innumerable band issued forth, searching mountain and forest; and the general of the monkeys was made prisoner. He inquired: "Whose are these troops, and why is this night attack and slaughter of our race?" He was told the circumstances in detail, and he then recollected, but too late, the words of his sage and foreseeing monarch. When the eldest vazir had ended, all the others applauded him, and acknowledged the wisdom of his counsel. It was therefore agreed that every morning one of their number should repair into the presence of the king, and relate tales illustrative of the craft and deceitfulness of women, in the hoi)e that when one week had thus passed the fortunes of the jirince would have become prosperous. Accordingly, the First Vazir, after having gone to the executioner and desired him to delay till further orders, waited u^jon his Majesty, and after huml)le prostration, comiilimented him on his justice, l)Ut THE WOMAX AXD TllE PAkROT. warned him of the cunning of women, and cautioned him to avoid precipitation. "The word," said he, "whicli has once escaped the Ups, the arrow which has once left the bow, have ceased to be under )Our control.' Perhaps you may one day repent your rashness, and grieve for what you have done, like the foolish man who slew his parrot without a crime." The king desired him to relate the story, and he began: Story of the Confectioner, his Wife, and the Parrot. There once lived in Egypt a confectioner, who had a very beautiful wife, and a parrot- that i)erformed, as 1 Thus Sa'dl : "When thou utterest not a word, thou hast thy hand upon it ; when thou hast uttered it, it has laid its hand upon thee;" and again: "You may easily separate the soul from the body, but you cannot so readily restore life to the dead ; it is a maxim of prudence to be cautious in giving the arrow flight, for let it once quit the bow, and it can never be recalled." So, too, in the Dictcs, or Sayings of /'/ii/oso/i/n-rs, printed by Caxton in 1477, one of the " thre Wysemen " who "cam byfore a King," is represented as saying: "I am mayster of my wordes, or it be pronounced; but when it is spoken, I am servaunt thereto." And in the preface to A'alila and Dinina (the Arabian version of the work known in Europe as the Fables of Pilpay) precisely the same "saying" is found: "I am the slave of what I have spoken, but the master of what I conceal." - The Hebrew translator has borrowed the Italian name 32 THE BOOK OF SLXDlBAD. occasion required, the office of watchman, guard, pohceman, bell, or spy, and flapped his wings did he but hear a fly buzzing about the sugar. This parrot was a great annoyance to the wife, always telling the suspicious husband what took place in his absence. One evening, before going out to visit a friend, the confectioner gave the parrot strict injunctions to watch all night, and desired his wife to make all fast, as he should not return till morning. No sooner had he left, than the woman went for her old lover, who returned with her, and they passed the night together in mirth and feasting, while the parrot observed all. In the morning the lover departed, and the husband, returning, was informed by the parrot of what had taken place; upon which he hastened to his wife's apartment, and beat her soundly. She thought to herself, who could have informed against her, and asked a woman who Avas in her confidence whether it was she. The woman i)rotested, '" by what is hidden and what is open,'"^ that she had not betrayed her; but informed her that in the morning, upon his return, _ the husband stood some time before the cage, and listened to the talking of the parrot. When the wife heard this, slie resolved to plot the destruction of the bird. pappagallo, which he writes most frequcnlly papfgaah, once papdgaah, and once papegal. 1 "The female slave swore strongly." — Syiifipas, THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. ZS Some days after, the husband was again invited to the hotise of a friend, where he was to pass the night. Before departing, he gave the parrot the same injunc- tions as before. His heart was free from care, for he had his spy at home. The wife and her confidante then planned how they might destroy the credit of the parrot with its master. For this purpose, they resolved to counterfeit a storm, which they effected by means of a hand-mill, placed over the parrot's head, which the lover worked, by a rush of water, by blowing a bellows, and by suddenly uncovering a taper hid under a dish. Thus did they raise such a tempest of rain and lightning, that the parrot was drenched and im- mersed in a deluge. Now rolled the thunder — now flashed the lightning — the one from the noise of the hand-mill, the other from the reflection of the taper. " Surely," thought the parrot to itself, " the deluge has come on, and such a one as perhaps Noah never witnessed." So saying, he buried his head under his wing, a prey to terror. The husband, on his return, hastened to the parrot, to inquire what had happened during his absence. The bird replied, that he found it impossible to convey an idea of the deluge and tempest of last night; that it would take years to describe the uproar of the hurricane and storm, ^^'hen the shopkeeper heard the parrot talk of last night's deluge, he said: "Surely, O bird, you are gone mad. Where was there— even in a dream — rain or lightning last night? You have utterly ruined my house and c 34 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. ancient family. My wife is the most virtuous woman of the age, and all your accusations of her are false." In anger, he dashed the cage upon the ground, tore off the parrot's head, and threw it from the window. Presently, his friend, coming to call upon him, saw the parrot in this condition, with head torn off, and without wings or plumage. Being informed of the circumstances, he suspected some trick on the j^art of the wife, and said to the liusband: "When your wife leaves home to go to the bath, compel her confidante to disclose the secret." As soon, therefore, as his wife went out, the liusband entered his harem, and insisted on the woman telling him the truth. She detailed the whole story, and the husband now bitterly repented having killed the parrot, of whose innocence he had proof. ^ ^ In Syiitipas, the hu.sband is not undeceived, but ceases to have faith in the parrot. In the Hebrew version, "he slew the parrot, and sent to bring his wife, and gave her presents. " In the Arabic, he kills the parrot, and afterwards discovering that his wife is guiUy, in Scott's version, he divorces her, but in the Calcutta, Bulaq, and Breslau texts, he kills both the woman and her paramour. In the Syriac and Castilian, as in the Hebrew, he kills the parrot and is reconciled to his wife. The conclusion of the story as found in the Turkish Forty Vazirs agrees with that in Syntipas. — In the Seirn I Vise Jllastcrs, the old Enghsh prose translation of the Ilistoria Septem Sapienmm Roma, where the tale is related of a burgess and his magpie (or pye), the husband says to the bird : "Thou liest ; thou hast said unto me, that in the same night was hail, and snow, and TJIE DOUBLE INFIDELITY. 35 " I will now," continued the vazir, " relate to your Majesty a still pleasanter tale to the same purpose, illustrating the craft of women." The king expressed a wish to hear it, and the vazir proceeded : Story of the Officer and his Ulistress, his Servant, and the IVoman's Husband} In the kingdom of Balqis- and city of Sapa, there lived a tailor, of whose wife a young officer became enamoured. AVhen the tailor was from home, the ofificer sent his servant with a message to the wife. rain, that thou hast near hand lost thy life, which is most false. And therefore from henceforth thou shalt make no more leasings nor discord betwixt me and my wife," and so took the pye and broke her neck. But in the metrical version (Auchinleck MS. — the oldest English text extant) analysed by Ellis, in his Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, the burgess, after killing the bird, discovers the trick that had been practised upon it, and thrusts his wife out of the hou^e. — The story is also found in John of Capua's Directoriiim Hiimancc Vitcc, the Discorsi degli Animali, and the C/f/v?? of Sansovina. — See Appendix, No. 3. ^ The MS. has the commencement of the story, but wants a leaf, viz., fol. 41, in the middle of it. — F. - Balqis, the name of the celebrated Queen of Sheba (Sapa) who visited Solomon, according to the Arabs ; she is the 24th in Pocock's list of the sovereigns of Yaman : our author has given her name to the whole province. The city of Sapa (or Saba) was built by Saba, the ancestor of the Sab(cans, or Himyarites, and was destroyed by the bursting of a great reservoir of water in ancient times. 36 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD, The slave, being a handsome youth, found favour with her, and stayed so long, that the officer's patience being exhausted, he proceeded himself to the house. Aware of his approach, the woman concealed the slave in an inner apartment. AVhile the officer was with her, the husband was heard knocking at the door. The woman, afraid to hide the officer in the other apartment, lest he should discover his slave there, devised the following escape from her difficulty. She desired her lover to draw his sword, feign to be in a violent passion with her, and, abusing her in opprobrious terms, to rush out of the house past her husband, without saying a word to him. The officer having done so, and the husband entering, the wife hastens to his embrace. " Be thankful," cried she, " that we are delivered from such a calamity ! This morning, a lad rushed in here, trembling like a reed, and entreatmg me to save his life. I concealed him in that apartment. That furious man, whom you saw, burst in upon me, and asked, ' ^^'here is the boy, my slave?' I replied that he was not here, and that I had not seen him; upon which he darted away in a passion. Enter the closet, and quiet the lad's fears. He is an orphan, and without relations." The simple husband did so, and having soothed and consoled the lad, sent him away with good wishes. [4] "I have related this tale," added the vazir, "to show the cunning of women : believe not their words. THE WASHERMAN AND Ills SON. 37 I will vouch for the prince's innocence with my hfe." The king reflected for a while, and then, remanding the youth to prison, retired to his private apartment. Next morning, the Damsel, hearing of the impres- sion which had been made upon his Majesty by the eloquence of one of his vazirs, and how her plans were thus overthrown, again presented herself, and, com- plaining loudly of her wrongs, implored justice. She reminded his Majesty of a day of retribution ; accused him of protecting one who had looked on his harem with an eye of sin; denounced the vazir as corrupt and a receiver of bribes; and as bent upon bestowing the sovereignty on the prince by the death of his master. " If," said she, " your Majesty will not listen to my advice, the same thing will happen to you which happened to the washerman through his son." "Relate it," said the king; and she began: Story of the Washerman and his Son, who were Droivned in the Nile. I HAVE heard from an Ethiop washerwoman, who learned it from her husband, that there once lived in Egypt, on the banks of the Nile, a washerman, by name Noah, who was— like an atom— all day in the sun, and— like a fish— all the year round in the water: who would have washed with his soap the blackness THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. from an Ethiop. This man had a darhng son, who was headstrong, good-for-nothing, and foohsh; and who, as soon as he saw his father in the water, would seat himself on his father's ass, and drive it into the river. The father was in constant terror lest the boy should fall into the water and be drowned, or lest a crocodile should seize him. One day, the boy, as usual, mounted the ass, and rode with such fury into the river, that at once the water reached his head. At one moment he was — like an oyster — underwater; the next— like a bubble — on its surface. As soon as the father learned that his son was drowning, he rushed into the water, in the hope of saving him, and caught him by the hand. The lad grasped at his father, and seized him by the hair. Both sank, and were drowned together. [5] The king, reflecting upon this tale, changes his pur- pose, and orders the executioner to do his duty. The Second Vazir now sends a message to the executioner, desiring him to delay the execution for a short time; he then hastens into the presence of the king, and, after obeisance made, breaks out into invectives against women, and concludes by saying: " If your Majesty listens to the wiles of women, you will repent it, as the partridge did of killing his mate." The king desired to hear the tale, and the vazir said: THE TWO PARTRIDGES. 39 Story of the Two Partridges. Once upon a time two partridges dwelt together in the closest intimacy — like two souls in one l)ody, or like two bodies in one shirt; and between them was neither duality nor separation. In their vicinity lived a hawk, that from morning to night preyed on young partridges, and tliat occasioned the male bird constant apprehension, for he was a troublesome and meddle- some neighbour. When you buy a house anywhere, first take care to examine well its neighbourhood. This hawk was ever on the watch, and never allowed a young bird to escape, while the parents were in continual terror, and scarcely ventured to thrust their heads out of the nest. One night the male partridge proposed to his wedded partner that they should leave their home, saying: '' I will go to the confines of Ray to escape the oppression of this bird of evil omen. There will I provide a home, and collect corn and grain. I have there two relations, who are my friends. Do thou, too, follow me thither, for this is no home, but a prison — a net." His mate slied tears, while he continued: "Follow after me to those friends; for no one would, for the sake of his own ease, expose his family to destruction." While they were thus conversing, the hoopoe paid them an unexpected visit. " What has happened," inquired he; "and why is the good-wife weeping?" They detailed to him their circumstances, the annoy- 40 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. ance occasioned by their neighbour, and their resolu- tion of removing. The hoopoe observed: "In Ray there prevails a pestilence; it is the abode of plague, of misery, and woe. I have visited the most distant confines of the earth, and have seen something of every country you can mention. Do not imagine that there is in the whole earth a spot of security and peace like Shiraz — whose very rubbish and thorns are pleasanter than roses; whose every pebble is a ruby, and whose dust is gold! Musalla,^ with the stream of Ruknabad flowing through it, is a paradise, with Kauthar- in the midst. Sweet, too, is the air of its Ja'farabad,^ whose breezes perform the work of the Messiah.^ In the environs of that amber-scented city^ there is a pleasure-ground like Paradise, in which is a ^ A pleasure-garden near Shiraz, where Haf iz is buried. - A river of Paradise, according to Eastern poets. 3 A suburb of Shiraz, famous for its gardens and villas. •* Muslims believe that the breath of th.; Messiah had the virtue of restoring the dead to life. In the Persian romance of the Four Dervishes a very skilful physician is named 'Isa (Jesus) in allusion to this notion. 5 HafTz, in one of his beautiful gazals, exclaims (according to Mr. S. Pvobinson's translation : " Hail Shiraz! incomparable site ! O Lord, preserve it from every disaster ! "God forbid a hundred times that our Ruknabad be doomed, to which the life of Khizar hath given its brightness ! *' For between Ja'frabad and Mosella cometh the north wind perfumed with amber." THE TWO PARTRIDCES, 41 delightful fountain, resembling the Fountain of Life. There jxirtridges are abundant, hence it is called the Fountain of Partridges. Beyond it is another fountain, which you might suppose to be that of Kauthar. In that quarter a single ear of corn yields two stacks. A cousin of mine is the shaykh of the district. Still further on is the City of the Peacock, where you might stop a few days." When the partridge heard this, he smiled, and said to the hoopoe: "O bird, full of understanding! in this desert of grief you are the Khizar^ of my path; well have you spoken, and you are indeed my friend ! " Then embracing him closely, he bade him adieu, and set out on his journey, accompanied by his spouse. The delighted partridge ceased not smiling with joy at his escape from his bad neighbour. He ate not — drank not — but travelled on from morn to night — from even till morn. Thus he proceeded till he reached the place of security, and beheld from the top of a mountain the Stream of Birds. Then did his mate 1 According to the Eastern legend, Khizar was despatched by an ancient Persian king to procure him some of the Water of Life. After a tedious journey, he reached the Fountain of Immortality, and having drank of its waters, they suddenly vanished. It is believed that Khizar still lives, and occasionally appears to favoured individuals, always clothed in green, and acts as their guide in difficult adventures — hence the allusion as above. — Khizar is often confounded with Moses, Elias, and even St. George. The name Khizar signifies green. J 42 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. exclaim to him : " Gratitude and praise ! thanks ^Yithout bound or Hmit! It is indeed a blessed abode — a charming spot! In this delightful retreat they fixed their habitation, and sorrow had now given place to happiness. The joy of \outh — the season of spring — ■ an affectionate mistress, and the margin of a stream; this is the new-wine of life — and more needs not — happy he who has this within his reach! The happy day on which the pair arrived at that spot was the night of the middle of the month Azar {i.e. vernal month). On every bush roses were blow- ing; on every branch a nightingale was plaintively warbling. The tall cypress was dancing in the garden; and the po])lar never ceased clapping its hands with joy ! With loud voice, from the top of every bough of the willow, the turtle-dove was proclaiming the glad advent of spring ! The diadem of the narcissus shone with such splendour, that you would have said it was the crown of the emperor of China ! On this side, the north wind, on that, the west were, in token of affec- tion, scattering dirhams at the feet of the rose. The earth was musk-scented ; the air musk-laden ! ^ 1 "There is, I believe," says Dr Johnson, "scarce any poet of eminence who has not left some testimony of his fondness for the flowers, the zephyrs, and the warblers of the spring; nor has the most luxuriant imagination been able to describe the serenity and happiness of the golden age otherwise than by giving a perpetual spring as the highest reward of uncorruptcd innocence." THE TWO rARTRIDGES. 43 Two affectionate and loving friends find themselves at home wherever they go. The relations of the male jiartridge and the neighbours heard of his arrival, and hastened to visit him. One kissed his face, another brushed from his plumage the dust of the journey. Such affection did they conceive for each other, that they were never apart : all day, wandering about desert and country ; all the year, roaming joyously without a care. I need not say that no cultivated fields or houses were there ; that there was no night attack, or plunder, or ravaging; for not even a land-measurer passed that way; no burner of (the herb) alkali came there to give any one a headache. As the father did not wrong the son, the son sought not to take his father's life. As the daughter used not violence towards her mother, brother did not deprive brother of eyesight. Happy that time, those days, that age! when none had a quarrel with his neighbour. The world being then free from the ills of strife, the eye of the arrow saw not the face of the bow. Thus passed some years over them, during which care or grief visited them not. Pjut triumph not, O friend, in prosperity; still look forward to the evening and the night of grief. Bid the young think of the sorrows of age; let the aged reflect on the sufferings of death. There chanced to come on such a year of drought, that it was impossible to procure a drop of water from the fountains, and a hundred ears of corn yielded not a single grain. Locusts drank from the 44 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. cup of every one. Not merely the store of the poor was exhausted, but even the granary of kings was empty. People went to Egypt and to Syria to procure corn, as in the time of Joseph (on whom be peace!). When the eye of the partridge awoke from sleep, he found himself destitute of provision. His mate said: "It matters not; let us practise devotion, and be satisfied with what little there may be. It is better to be content with barley-bread than to carry one's request before the king." The male partridge replied: "You pass your days in difficulty; yet sorrow not, for grief as well as joy will pass away. Six days' journey off is the City of the Peacock; there, perhaps, corn may be procured. I have there a friend, by name Durraj,^ from whom I can borrow something." He thus spoke, and, embracing his mate, went forth, and took the way of the mountains. The male partridge departed; the female remained behind, and sang her sad songs. The master is the stay of the house; when he leaves it, it falls. He was absent about five months, for he loitered long upon the road. When winter came, and the cloud rained camphor from the sky, and ice closed fast the eye of the fountain, suddenly the male partridge returned from his journey, and entered to take his spouse to his bosom. He beheld her changed; her neck slender, ^ Durraj is not a proper name, but the Persian name of the francolin, a species of partridge. THE TWO TARTRIDGES. 45 her body swollen. When he saw her thus apparently pregnant, all his affection for her was at an end. " I see," said he, " that I have involved myself in calamity. I have left a giddy wife at home! Fine housekeeping this ! A rare husband I ! In my absence you were about your own affairs ; — tell me from whose granary is this grain?" His mate vowed by 'Isa and by Maryam^ that he suspected her wrongfully. " No one has seen my face since you left; no one has beheld a feather of me. You are my only treasure in life; you are father, relation, every tie of my soul." The enraged husband, however, gave her no credit, but tore off the head of his helpless mate. With her blood they wrote on her tomb: "Shed not innocent blood; if you wish not your own disgrace, do it not ! He acts wisely who acts with reflection." The partridge repented of what he had done, and that he had acted on mere suspicion. " Where," said he, " can I meet with a companion like her? — one who was ever contented and accordant, and who bore patiently with my reproaches ! " The birds of that quarter, hearing of his return, waited on him to congratulate him on his arrival. AVhen they saw his wretched mate weltering in her blood, their hearts burned with compassion for her. One asked: "Why have you slain your mate? No one entered this house. I will answer for it that this poor wretch had no crime." The husband told the 1 Jesus and Mary. 46 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. whole story with tears. They assured him with one voice that he had acted precipitately; that he was mistaken grievously; that in that city a disease had been raging for some time, by which the crop was swollen; but that a certain grass was a cure for it. " Why," said they, " did you not tell your case to any one?" The male bird was distracted at hearing this, and reproached himself bitterly. He lit up a fire, and burnt his house and home. He procured poison, which he took, and died. If he deprived another of life, he saved not his own ! [6] " Hence," remarks the vazir, " your Majesty may see the danger of precipitation." He then relates, in further illustration of the cunning of women, the Story of the Old Man ivho sent his Young Wife to the Market to buy Riee} [There was a righteous man in Qandahar, simple and pure of heart, upright, gracious, and exceeding clement. In origin and race he was the leader of men. He was very God-fearing and abstemious; at times standing all night at prayer, and at times fasting. He had a wife, fair-si)oken and sweet of speech, who would have carried off the palm amongst a hundred marvels of beauty. ' Falconer gives only the title of this story, nnd refers the reader to Syii(i/>as, p. 40 [of Boissonade, p. 30 of Eberhard]. THE WOMAN A XD THE GROCER. 47 She was very young; the good-man was very old: I will not say she was without plans and resources. A\'hen the good-man is old, and the wife young, what sayest thou, and seest thou, then, O youth? The youthful wife loved the youthful. One day the old man took a piece of gold out of his purse, gave it to the woman, and said: "Buy some husked rice^ with this." Having adorned her person with Chinese brocade, she went out veiled. She pro- ceeded to the bazaar, where she saw a handsome youth, decked in loveliness from head to foot. A balance was hung up in his shop; candy and sugar were poured out. AVhen the woman saw this loveling from afar, she writhed and heaved a sigh from her liver.- She brought out the piece of gold and laid it down, saying: "Give me husked rice for this gold." 1 The word in the text is muqasIisJiar, which is thus explained in Shakspeare's Hindustani Dictionary: "Barked, skinned, peeled, shelled, husked (rice)." In Persian the term may perhaps be equally applicable to shelled nuts or almonds, husked rice, &c. It must be borne in mind, however, that this text seems to have been written in India. - I take the liberty of reproducing the following, from my notes on the Romance of 'Antar {Arabian Poetry for English Readers, pp. 456-7) :— The ancients, it is well known, placed the seat of love in the liver. Thus 'Antar says: "Ask my burning sighs that mount on high; they will tell thee of the flaming passion in my liver." An epigram in the seventh book of the Ant/iolo^ia is to the same purpose : 48 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. The youth said: "There is no need of the gold; I will give thee presently rice with sugar on the top: do thou rest thyself a moment." — As he was young, and she was young, the (recollection of the) old man could find no room between them. He brought the rice and put it before her; he also put some sugar on the top of it. The woman took off her veil and wrapped both of them therein ; then she went into an inner apartment, which had a private way out on that side, and sat down. A leaf, fol. 57, is wanting here; but from other versions we may suppose that the story went on to relate that, the grocer having given his servant a secret signal, while he and the lady were conversing together, the lad substituted sand in place of the rice and sugar; that she took up her parcel and returned home; and the old man, on discovering its strange contents, ' ' Cease, Love, to wound my liver and my heart ; If I must suffer, choose some other part." Theocritus, in his 13th Idyll, referring to Hercules, says: "In his liver Love had fixed a wound. " Anacreon tells how the god of Love drew his bow, and "the dart pierced through my liver and my heart." Horace (B. I, ode 2) says : " Burning love doth in thy cankered liver rage." But this notion was not peculiar to the ancients. According to our great dramatist : " Alas ! then love may be called appetite ; No motion of the liver, but the palate. " THE WOMAN AND THE GROCER. 49 naturally inquired what this meant. Perceiving the trick of the grocer, she readily replied (fol. 58): " When I was making for the bazaar from the street, at that narrow place at the head of the market, a young camel, that had broken away from the rope attached to its nose-ring, had got loose from the file (of camels), like a mountain suddenly sprang to foot, like a rock suddenly moved from its place, roared and so terrified me, that my breath was taken away. In that place where I turned and fled, the piece of gold fell from my hand into the dust.^ I looked much for it, but could not find it; and as it was drawing late, I took away some of the dust of the road in my veil." The good-man, out of his simplicity of heart, believed her tale, and said: "Who wert thou, to be without fear? Thou knowest gold and dust to be one in my sight." He then gave her another piece of gold, saying: "Buy husked rice at that place thou knowest." So she took the gold, again put on her veil, and re- turned to the shop of her lover.]- ^ In the Syriac version, the woman says she was frightened by a calf; in the 8th Night of Nakhshabi's Tiiti Ndma (where the story is told by the Sixth Vazir), she says that an ox, having got loose, ran at her, and she fell, losing the money among the dust. (This is the 25th tale of Kaderi's abridgment of the Tufi Ndiiia, of which an English translation, together with the text, was published, at London, in 1801.) In the Hebrew and the Arabic- versions, she was jostled by the crowd in the bazaar, and dropped the coin. - This story is also found in John of Capua's DirCitorutDi D 50 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. The king is induced by these tales and the inter- cession of the vazir to suspend the execution and remand his son to prison. The Damsel now returns for the third time/ and renews her demand for justice against the prince. "If my counsel be not listened to," says she, "the same thing will happen to you which befell the prince who, yielding to the guidance of his [father's] vazir, was made prisoner in the haunt of ghuls." His Majesty desires to hear the tale, and the Damsel proceeds : Story of the Prince and the Ghul. A WOMAN of the race of the kings of Persia once related to me that, in the city of Kirman, a city whose like neither does the earth behold nor space contain, there ruled a brave and just prince, of the family of Kisra, by name Ardashir,^ to whose sway were subject HumancE Vitcs. It is omitted in the old Castilian version of the Book of Sindibad. ^ That is, including her appearance when she accused the prince, but did not relate a story. - Kisra, or Khusrau, was the general title of Persian kings of the SasanT dynasty, hence the Greek forms Cyrus and Chosroes, and perhaps the more modern Caasar, Kaisar, and Czar. The founder of this dynasty was Ardashir (Artaxerxes), but there were two other kings of the same name; and since Nushlrvan the Just (6th century) is often termed Kisra par excellence by THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. 5 1 fowl, fish, and ant; and whose threshold was kissed by the sultans of Ghur. He had but one son, named Bedr, whom he fondly loved, and who, he hoped, would succeed him when he should cease to reign: when the rose should pass away, this rose-water would remain; when the sun should set, this moon would arise. One day, in the season of spring, the young prince, wearied of confinement, asked permission of his father to go a-hunting for a day or two. "The master of the hawks," said he, " informs me that in Rudbar, and Mushir, and Nigar there is abundance of cranes, partridges, and other game, and makes me eager for the sport." His aged father replied: " Listen to my counsel, and do it not, my son. The chase is an evil thing in its beginning and in its end. In the eye of those endowed with reflection, it is unlawful that the hawk should pluck out the eye of the partridge. The antelope, with all its beauty and grace — is it not a pity that it should be mangled by the fangs of the dog? The pheasant, with its delicate and graceful gait — is it not a shame that it should fall into the power and snare of the fowler? Those animals cause pain or injury to no one; are happy amid their thickets and grass, and covet nothing more. Well said the widowed wife to the Persian writers, and was called Chosroes I by the Greeks, the prince above mentioned was probably Ardashir III, the fourth successor to Nushirvan, and the twenty-fourth king of the dynasty. 52 THE BOOK OF SI ND IB AD. falconer : ' Go, withhold thy hand from this evil occu- pation. They are all the servants of their Maker; all of them live by his command. What advantage canst thou derive by depriving them of life? What benefit canst thou reap from sacrificing an ant?'" "Sire," replied the prince, "the law sanctions hunt- ing and the chase; and since it is permitted by the Prophet, whence is this prohibition, and why this severity of rebuke?" In short, the king, seeing that he was bent on going, cautioned him to be on his guard against evil and danger; and his Majesty's favourite minister, in whom he had the fullest confidence, received instructions to attend and take charge of the prince, but was desired by the king not to conduct him to the desert of Rudan, as it was infested with ghuls. They set out, and the vazir proposed that they should i^roceed to Shemsi Ghuran, which abounded in wild asses. Another of the vazirs, however, who had long borne envy towards the premier, and who was secretly the enemy of his sovereign, worked on the prince by his insinuations against the minister, drew him aside from his train, when they were near Shemsi Ghuran, into a tent, and persuaded him to drink a cup of wine. The prince was then about to repose in the tent, when a cry arose that a wild ass was started.^ The prince 1 Hunting the wild ass is still a favourite pastime of the Persian nobles. The fleetness of this animal is perhaps only exceeded by that of the antelope. THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. sprang up, mounted his steed, and rode on in ])ursuit of the animal, and never reined in until it suddenly disappeared as if the earth had swallowed it up. The prince looked on every side, and beheld before him a charming lady, beautiful as a peri — her stature straight as a box-tree; her mouth small as the end of a hair; her waist a hair's breadth. One wonders not to find a rose growing by a fountain; Ijut if it is found springing from a salt-marsh, it may well cause surprise. The prince was galloping in pursuit of a wild ass, and if he missed it, he found an antelope ; he was in search of a serpent, and found the treasure in its stead. ^ " A table," thought he to himself, " has descended from heaven." — "O envy of hurl and peri," said he, addressing her, " for human being possesses not such beauty, thou art an angel, and Paradise is thy home; say, what wouldst thou in this world of gloom ?""^ The ' It is a popular notion among Muslims — borrowed probably from the Hindus, who have the same superstition — that hidden treasure is guarded by serpents. -"So excessive," remarks Sir William Ouseley, "is the admiration of the amorous Persians for female beauty, that those who possess it in an eminent degree are considered by them as something more than mortal. Of this opinion is the celebrated poet Khusru, in the beginning of one o{\)i\?, gazals: 'Think not that beautiful damsels are of the human race; They are houris of Paradise, or angels, or superior spirits.' " Akin to this poetical idea is the following fine passage, from the King's Qiuiir (or Book) of James I of Scotland, on seeing Lady Jane Beaufort walking in the garden of Windsor Castle : 54 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. damsel replied : " One must not hide one's complaint from the physician. I once beheld thee at a distance, from my terrace. I had ascended to look for the new moon, when, to my unexpected good fortune, the sun appeared. (Thus) one sought the moon, and found the sun ; one looked for the Goblet, and found Jam- shid.^ Since thou art the amber and I the straw, tell me, how can I preserve my heart? O captivating youth, the heart is a source of affliction ; — I would not wish even an infidel the misfortune to have his heart enslaved." — The prince was carried away by his de- sires; for the fountain was in sight, and his lip was parched. The damsel pointed to her abode, and led the way, while the prince rode on after her till they "Ah, sweet ! are ye a worldly creature, Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature? Or are ye god Cupid his own princess, And coming are to loose me out of band ? Or are ye very Nature the goddess, That have depainted with your heavenly hand This garden full of flowers as they stand?" And the great Persian Sa'di : "Who is walking there— thou, or a tall cypress? Or is it an angel in human shape?" And the Hindu Somadeva: "When the young man saw her, she at once robbed him of his heart, and he was bewildered by love, and no longer master of his feelings. He said to himself: ' Can this be Rati come in person to gather flowers accumulated by spring, in order to make arrows for the god of Love? or is it the presiding goddess of the wood, come to worship the spring?" 1 See note 2, page 6. THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. 55 reached a desolate spot. She entered, and cried out : " Come and see what I have brought hither by my contrivance!"^ From every corner the black ghuls- rushed out. The prince, on seeing them, was alarmed for his life, and conning a prayer,'^ fled to the desert. He urged on his steed, while the female pursued him, begging him not to desert her thus cruelly. — " Excuse me," said the prince; "I am not my own master, but in the hands of another \i.e. his steed]. Whatever I sew, he undoes; I go not willingly, but he flies with me." — The damsel continues to entreat; but the prince persists in not returning. Although the pages of the manuscript are numbered consecutively, a leaf is wanting here. The conclusion ^ "And behold, the damsel, sporting with the sprites, and saying to them : ' Behold, I have brought to you a young man, the son of a king.' " — Mishle Sandabar. - In the Greek version, laiiiii?, ogresses. — Ghuls (or ghouls) are a species of demons, believed by Muslims to feed on human flesh, and to have the power of assuming any form they choose, to decoy unwary travellers. In the present case, the ghrd had first assumed the form of a wild ass, which the prince eagerly chased, and next that of a beautiful girl. The ghuls correspond to the Vetalas, Pisachas, Yoginis, and Dakinis of Indian mytho- logy, who play prominent parts in many of the ancient Hindu fictions. ■' "And the youth, straightway directing his eyes and hands to heaven, besought him {i.e., God], saying," &c. — Synti/'as. 56 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. may be guessed from Syntipas, where, as soon as the prince had uttered a praj'er, the damsel falls powerless on the ground, unable longer to pursue him ; while the prince sets off at full speed, and reaches home in safety. [7] ***** The commencement of the next chapter is wanting, but it, of course, contained the order of the king for the execution of his son, which is stayed by the Third Vazir, who, repairing to the foot of the throne, intercedes for the prince. He counsels the king to put no faith in slaves. " If you desire a son," said he, "ask in marriage the daughter of the emperor of China; for whenever you have a son by a slave, he will be of evil disposition, and ill-affected towards you : a beggar will be introduced to your court, and a black seated on your throne. Listen not to the advice of the worthless ; slay not your son rashly ; otherwise you will repent, as the officer did of killing his cat." The vazir then relates the Story of the Snake and the Cat} [In a city of Cathay there dwelt a good and blameless woman with her husband. By-and-by she bore him a son, and thereupon died. The man got a nurse to ^ Here presented somewhat more fully than it is given by Falconer. THE SNAKE AND THE CAT. 57 bring up the child. Now he had a cat, of which he was very fond, and to which his wife had been also much attached. One day the man went out on some business, and the nur.se also had left the house, no one remaining but the infant and the cat. Presently a frightful snake came in, and made for the cradle to devour the child. The cat sprang upon it, and after a desperate fight succeeded in killing it. When the man returned, he was horrified at seeing a mangled mass lying on the floor. The snake had vomited so much blood and poison that its form was hidden, and the man, thinking that the cat, which came up to him, rubbing against his legs, had killed his son, struck it a blow, and slew it on the spot. But immediately after he discovered the truth of the matter, how the poor cat had killed thesnake in defence of the boy, and his grief knew no bounds.]^ ^ This story is not found in any of the Arabic texts. In the Syriac, Greek, Hebrew, and old Castilian versions it is a dog that kills the snake. In the Pancha Tantra, where the same story occurs (B. V, Fab. 2), it is, more appropriately, a nutngiis — " the fierce hostility of which creature to snakes," remarks Dr, H, H. Wilson, "and its singular power of killing them, are in India so well known as to have become proverbial, and are verifiable by daily observation. It is doubtful," he adds, " if a dog has either any instinctive enmity to snakes, or any charac- teristic dexterity in destroying them." In Calila a)id Dimna and the Hitopadesa the snake is killed by a weasel, of which the mungus, or ichneumon, is a species. See Appendix, No. 8. 58 THE BOOK OF SIN DIB AD. " Shed not, then, the blood of your innocent son," proceeds the vazir. " If the officer had reflected, he would not have acted so rashly. Slay not a prince on the testimony of a woman. Women are fickle and inconstant, and pray at ten qiblas^ in one day. I will now, with your Majesty's permission, relate a story, still more entertaining than the last, of the merchant's wife and the old woman who conducted her to a lover." Story of the Libertine Hiisband'r An old man had married a young and beautiful wife. The husband used frequently to go to his farm in the country, leaving his wife in town. Upon those occa- sions she threw off all restraint, and met many lovers ; and an old woman acted as her go-between. The husband once, on returning to town, instead of going home, applies to the old woman to introduce him to a mistress; and his own wife, not knowing whom she was to meet, is induced to grant him an assignation. She manages so well to dissemble her own confusion, 1 The term qibla, which signifies "the point of adoration," is commonly applied to the Ka'ba ("cubical house"), or Temple, in Mecca; and to this point every Muslim must turn his face when he prays. - In Syntipas, this forms the conclusion of the story of the Go-Between and the She-Dog. The first portion subsequently appears, in this te.\t, as the second tale of the Fourth Vazlr. THE MONKEY AND THE BOAR. 59 and reproaches him so naturally, that he never suspects her guilt, but entreats on his knees to be forgiven his infidelity. [9] The king's resolution is again shaken by those tales, and he remands his son to prison. The Damsel now presents herself a fourth time, and demands justice, threatening, if it is refused, to drink a cup of poison which she holds in her hand. She relates the Story of the Monkey, the Fig-Tree, and tJie Boar. An old monkey, finding himself a burden to his wife and family, takes leave of them, and wanders forth into the world. After suffering much distress, he at last reaches a spot in a forest full of every sort of fruit, and abounding in figs so delicious that you would have supposed them composed of sugar and milk. Here, reposing from the fatigues of travel, he slept long and soundly. When he awoke, he performed his ablutions in the stream, and ate some fruit. Although his heart burned when he thought of his family and relations, of what avail was it to grieve ? Having here abundance of provision, he (quitted not the spot the whole year. He reserved a quantity of the fruit on the branches 6o THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. for the winter. In the meantime a boar, fleeing from the combat, with his face bathed in blood and the stream flowing from every hair of his body, appeared in the forest, hke sudden death entering a door. After lying for a week in feebleness, the wounded boar went about in search of food, but in vain, it being now winter. At length he saw the monkey seated on a fig-tree, every branch of which was laden with figs. He implored the monkey to give him some food; upon which it threw him down a lapful of fresh figs, a viun or more. These he quickly devoured, and still demanded more, until he had eaten ten nmns, and the tree was stripped of fruit. The boar now threatened, and the monkey prayed to heaven for deliverance; upon which the boar, springing upon the tree, fell back, broke its neck, and expired. [lo] "Fear, then, that God by whom this was brought about, and grant me justice," added the Damsel, "remembering that the throne of tyrants shall be overturned." The king is now more determined than ever on the death of his son, and orders wood to be brought together, that he may be burnt by the executioner; upon which the Fourth Vazir presents himself, and intercedes for the prince. To show the danger of trusting in women, he relates the THE GO-BETWEEN AND THE SHE-DOG. 6i Story of the Bathkeeper, who conducted his wife to the son of the king of Kanuj.^ — He next relates the Story of the Go-Betioeen and the She-Dog. [In the city of .Shustar (in Khuzistan, Persia) a gay young gallant, riding to the chase one day, sees a peri- faced damsel at a lattice-window, and immediately falls in love with her. He engages a crafty old woman to intercede with the lady in his behalf, but she indig- nantly refuses to entertain any lover, and sends the go-between away unsuccessful. After some little time the old woman disguises herself as a devotee, and thus contrives to obtain admission to the house, soon gains the confidence of the servants, and ultimately becomes 1 An obscene story of a man whose cupidity induced him to become a party to the dishonour of his own wife. (See Syntipas, page 48 of Boissonade, page 36 of Eberhard.) This is one of the four tales which are common to both the Western and the Eastern groups of the Book of Sindibad. In the Latin text, Historia St'ptcm Sapientum Ronuc, as well as in the English prose and Scottish metrical versions, it is fused with a rather stupid tale of "Janus and the Defence of Rome." Rut in the most ancient of the French versions, Dclopathos, and two early English metrical versions, this story is given separately. (See the Seven Sages, Percy Society Reprints, vol, xvi, page 52,) — A variant, possibly the original form, is found in the Hilopadesa, ch. i, fab, 8 : " The King's Son and the Merchant's Wife. " 62 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. the familiar companion of the lady herself. One day this artful and hypocritical old hag secretly feeds the lady's she-dog with cakes strongly seasoned, which cause the creature's eyes to water as though it wept. The lady, observing this, expresses her surprise, and asks the old woman the cause. At first she pretends to be averse to explain the reason why the dog wept, but, after much entreaty, she informs the lady that the dog was once a beautiful damsel, who had been changed into that form as a punishment for rejecting a lover's suit. Alarmed at this tale, the lady confesses that she had refused to receive the addresses of a youth who had professed his love for her through an old woman; but now, lest she should in like manner be transformed into a she-dog, she is wiUing to grant him an interview. The crafty old go-between hastens to the amorous youth and informs him of the success of her trick ; and soon after the lady and her lover are united.]^ [There is here a very considerable displacement in the leaves of the MS., and some deficiencies occur throughout the remainder of the volume. The prince 1 Falconer has not given this story, but refers the reader to the version of it in Syntipas, p. 51 [of Boissonade, p. 39 of Eberhard]. He does not seem to have observed that the story as found in the Greek and other versions is in this text divided THE PRETENDED WIDOW. 63 was doubtless remanded when the fourth vazir had concluded his second story, as above; and the Damsel, of course, appeared for the fifth time, and urged the king to put his son to death, but it is impossible to say whether she told a story on this occasion, as all this portion of the text is wanting. We must now turn from folio 86 to folio 127 (the intervening leaves being misplaced), where we find but three pages remaining of what is evidently the first story of the Fifth Vazir, from which it can only be conjectured that it relates to a lady who had dis- sipated, with her paramour, her husband's wealth, during his absence. From what remains, it may be entitled the Story of the Lady zvhose Hair zvas ait off} When the lady was excited with wine, her lover came into her mind, and she lost her wits, and forgot where she was. The old companion leapt into her suddenly, and with a dagger she cut her hair to the roots. She scratched her cheek with her nails, till her face was into two, the conclusion forming the second tale of the Third Vazir — page 58. — For variants of this widely-diftused tale, see Appendix, No. 11. ^ This fragment and the complete story which follows, related by the Fifth Vazir, are not mentioned in Falconer's analysis; and what he conjectured to be told by this vazir is the second story of the Seventh Vazir. 64 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. bathed in blood. At dawn the lady went forth from the house, confused as her own tresses. When she reached home she began to weep ; tore her collar and bared her head — her face all wounds with her nails. She raised her cries and wail to the moon ; twisted her hairs round her fingers, pulled them out, and strewed them by handfuls all the way home, so that her path resembled the Milky Way therewith ; saying that her husband's days were come to an end — a stranger had unexpectedly told her that news. The women gathered in her street, and they all became as disordered as her hair. One said: "The poor thing! see how, fair creature, for the death of her husband, she has cut off her hair!" Another said: "See her face, how she has torn it into wounds ! See what she has done to her bosom!" There now befell wailings in that dwelling; the mansion was filled with the weeping of mourners. She prepared a worthy wake for her husband, and gave food.^ — After a month had elapsed, her lord came home. Like fire from iron, the woman leapt out, and exclaimed : " Take care, O young man — you outside-cheat! I knew not if thou wast in the bath stoke-hole or in the tomb. For thy death have I cut off my hair from the roots, and torn all my face with my nails. With whom have you been in close converse? Tell me, with whom have you been in close search? ^ It is customary in Persia to distribute food to friends and the poor at wakes. THE FA THEK-IN-LA W. 65 If I had a little once, not an atom now remains; — for this reason, of thy ten houses not a farthing has been left. What an evil day was that on which we were joined!" Thus did she vent her ill-temper. Her lord said: "O kind companion, what may it all be? Let no harm come to thy life." He then made up for all the expenses that had befallen, and paid all the money she had borrowed. — Thus do women practise sleight- of-hand; with craft thus do they split hairs. Though a woman were a phoenix, she were best plucked of feathers; though she were a noble falcon, she were best with her head wrung off. None knows the tricks and spells of women; — make mourning a duty under her sway, and weep blood. ^ " If his Majesty," continued the Fifth Vazir, " is not wearied by these headache-giving tales, I will relate another example." Sto)y of the ]Vo!iian icho Outivittcd her Fa ther- in -La zf.'' In days of yore there lived a just and pious husband- man, who sowed the seeds of goodness and reaped a hundred-fold. His house was all the year full of corn ; his fields abounded with flocks; and on the poor he 1 See Appendix, No. 12. - " Story of the Woman who l)rought her Lo\er by the Water-Way," etc. E 66 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. bestowed a portion of his wealth. He had a Baby- lonish wife; a magician-deceiver — all coquetry and leering. One day, when he was abroad inspecting the harvest of his fields, this peri-faced one went up to the terrace of the mansion, and there, like a fowler, she spread her snare. A graceful youth was pacing the plain, and coming near the enclosure of the harem, he beheld the face of that huri — that mail- haired beauty, of the lasso-tresses — and field and waste were filled with light. Now his sighs arose from his heart; now his feet sank in the clay. From above the peri-faced one shook her head, and stroked her face and bosom. In the street of this youth dwelt an aged woman ; — in foxery she was the old wolf of the city; in trickery, the crafty dissembler of the age. To her the young man went, and told her what signs the lady had made to him upon the roof of her house. The old woman answered : " Thy beloved — thy passionate companion, thy desired one — indicated thereby: 'Choose a damsel; seek out a pomegranate-breasted one; if she be fair, speak with her.' " So the youth sought out such a girl, and sent her secretly, with a token. When she had delivered her message, the lady pretended to be very wroth; spoke harshly to her; made black her face; and turned her out by the water-way. On reaching her own house, the young man went to meet her; and when he saw her plight and heard her story, he ran along the road to the door of the old THE FA TIIEK-IN-LA IK 67 woman. If he had a grief, he told it all; for one must not hide pain from the physician. The past- mistress thus answered him : " Knowest thou what thy beloved hath said? — 'When Night draws her pitchy curtain over her head, and the Ethiop king leads his host against Rum, come thou into the garden by the way of the water, for this indeed is the proper way.' "^ By reason of this the youth went off glad and bright. And when it was night he went into the garden. The jasmine-faced one came from the house into the garden, which was (as it were) filled with lamps by (the bright- ness of) her cheek. In one place were the box-tree and the cypress; the hawk and the ])heasant made peace together. Who would think that this night was the night of treachery? . . When it was midnight, sleep bore them off. An aged man, who was father to her husband, chanced to come out of the house. He was confounded at what he saw in the garden, and took away her anklets. Awaking soon afterwards, she perceived what had befallen her, and, having dismissed her companion, went into the house and lay down. And when an hour yet remained of the night, her husband awoke, and she said to him: "O kind com- rade, would not the garden be more pleasant than the house? On such a day the garden is a spring-tide. When the rose smiles, the house becomes a prison. 1 The lady having conveyed this message by blackening the girl's face (as the symbol of night), and sending her away by the path skirting the pond in the garden. 68 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. In the morning, when the nightingale laments from the bough, put forth thy head, like a rose, from the corner of the pavilion. Why liest thou when thou hast slept so long? Now are the walks of garden and orchard pleasant ; for the garden is become the place of the nightingale, not of the crow." Then she took her husband by the hand, and with him entered like a nightingale flushed into the rose-bower. In that same place where the anklets had been taken off her feet, she threw down a mat, and lay thus with her husband till the morning. Then said the woman to him: "Ask thy father what he wishes of me. He is neither my uncle nor my aunt; — why does he take off my two anklets?" The young man was angry with his father, saying to her: "Why should he give thee a headache?" \\'hen that experienced man came into the garden from the mansion, he told the whole affair to the youth — told him with displeasure the affair of the anklets. He flared up, and was very wroth with his father, and said to him: "Thou hast beheld all this only in a dream; for this woman was not separated from me this night. Go, master, be shamed before God. It was I who was with her in that place where she lay." When the father heard this tale from his son, he bowed his head and was shamed. Then made he apologies to the woman; he increased her dower, and gave her the half of that garden. ^ ' See Appendix, No. 13. THE ROPBF.R A.VD THF. /./OX. Ch) The king was grieved at this story; he reflected a moment, and then commanded the prince to be again removed to prison.] The Damsel now presents herself the sixth time, and demands redress. She inveighs against the vazir, and cautions the king not to trust him. She then relates the S/orj' of Sal^ilk the Robber, the Lion, and the Monkey. In the happy reign of Faridun,' a caravan pitched their tents by the side of a running stream. Thither a robber of great daring, who would have stolen the nose from the face of a lion, came by night in the hope of meeting with some booty, but finding a sentinel at every corner, and seeing that his art would be of no avail, he departed. Thinking, how- ever, that he might contrive to steal some of the fleetest of the horses, he sat down in the midst of the cattle to watch his opportunity. By chance, a lion, in search of prey, passed near the caravan, and fixed his desire on the herds; but from the outcry raised by the crowd, he could not succeed, and remained quiet in his place. Sal'uk, seeing no other means of safety or escape, suddenly sprang on ^ Farldun was the sixth of the PishdadI dynasty of ancient kings of Persia, 7° THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. the lion's back and held fast. The lion, alarmed, ran off with his rider, and ceased not running the whole night. ' The robber was exhausted with sitting on the lion's back, yet dared not quit it for almost certain death. I once heard a traveller in Arabia say, that if you fix a determined gaze on a lion, he will that instant take to flight; while, if you flee from him, he will pursue you. In all cases of danger, courage is the best security. The lion, under his rider, had by this time become timorous as a mouse. Coming to a lofty tree, he went under its shade; upon which Sal'uk sprang boldly from his seat into the tree. The lion on his part also was glad to escape from his rider, and took to flight with his tail trailing on the ground. Meeting a monkey, he was at first inclined to flee, thinking it might be the man, but observing his humble attitude, he stopped. The monkey, after re- spectfully saluting him, and inquiring after his royal health, asked him why he was travelling without his train, whither he was going, and on what object — at the same time offering his services. The lion related his adventure, and told him that his enemy was on a ^ In the Syriac text, a party with cattle take up their lodging in a caravanserai, leaving the gate open. During the night a lion enters in quest of prey, and shortly after a bold thief, who, groping for a fat animal, mistakes the Hon iox a horse, and mounts him ; and the Hon, supposing he has got the watchman on his back, rushes off with him in a great fright. THE PERI A. YD THE DEl'OTEE. /i tree not far off. The monkey rei^roached him for being afraid of such a foe. l"he Hon then conducted him to the tree, and the monkey mounted into it.s branches, not observing that the robber was concealed in a cleft of it underneath him. The man suddenly seized him, and grasped him so powerfully that he instantly expired. Be not forward or precipitate, and engage not in a contest with one who is your superior in strength. The lion, seeing what had taken place, l)etook himself to flight. [14] The king reflects on this tale, and resolves to put his son to death before his power should increase, when it might be too late. The Sixth Vazir, hearing of his Majesty's change of determination, comes before him to intercede for the prince. He inveighs, like the rest, against women, and advises his Majesty to put no trust in them. In proof of his assertions, he relates the Story of the Peri and the Religious Man; his learning the Great Name ; and his consiilting zi'ith his Wife. A HOLY man, who spent all his time in devotion, had a peri for his constant and familiar companion for many years. At length, the peri is obliged to leave 12 THE BOOK OF SlYDIBAD. him,^ word having been brought her of the illness of one of her children. On parting, she teaches him the " Three Great Names " (of God), on pronouncing one of which, on any great emergenc}-, his wish will be immediately accomplished. One night the shaykh communicates the circumstance to his wife, who dictates to him what he is to wish for. The result shows the folly of consulting with women ; but it is unfit to be repeated. It is sufficient to say that the 1 Falconer cites, in the original Persian, the reflections of the devotee on taking leave of the perl, of which Mr. J. W. Redhouse, the eminent Orientalist, has kindly furnished the following close, line-for-line rendering — the verses have, probably, a mystical (sufi) signification : " more is meant than meets the ear : " How happy is he who has no acquaintance. So that, following on separation, solitude be not. Like the phoenix, go, be thy own companion ; Thy own associate ; thy own confidant be thou : So that to taste the poison of separation need for thee be not; So that to bear the pang of separateness need for thee be not. When the soul for a time has accustomed itself to the body. See with what difficulty it comes up out of the body. Happy the man who hath not seen the bazaar of the world, Nor experienced the sorrow, trouble, bother of the world. As at first there is in it the pang of being born, So at last there is in it the pang of giving up the ghost. The world is the city of grief, the house of woe ; Not a place of rest, but an abode of dragons : Go not to sleep in the den of dragons ; Cast not thyself into the trap of calamity. Be it not that the thorn take the habit of [piercing] the rose ; For it is a death to turn awav one's affection from a beloved. HIE CONCEALED KOBE. 73 tale is similar to that of the "Three Wishes," by La Fontaine, to Prior's "Ladle," and to that given in Syntipas [p. 84 of Boissonade, )). 66 of Eberhard.Ji [The vazir then recounts the stratagem of the old woman with the merchant's wife and the young man: Story of the Concealed Robe? In old times there was a prince of the city of Ray, who spent all his time with minstrels, harps, and lutes; he was never without mirth all the year — a youth whose lot had never been troul)led. He had no anxiety for the future, no business save pleasure. He never tasted grief, but ever tasted wine. He had a hundred lovers in every corner; every eye waited on his road; his ward thronged with beauties, he was never a moment without coquetry and drinking. One night, at the time when he thought to sleep, when he knew not harp from rebeck, one of his fair companions said to him: "To-day I saw a beauty, whose face none ever beheld save the mirror, whose hair none ever caressed save the comb — a jasmine- cheeked one from the gardens of Paradise, beside ^ See Appendix, No. 15. 2 Falconer has omitted this story (wliich is known through other versions under the title of "The Burnt Cloth"), because it is also found in Scott's Sii'm Vazlrs, where, however, it is told very differently. 74 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. whom the hurls were ugly as demons." The wine- flushed man was ravished with her locks ; all night he slept not for passion of that moon {i.e. the damsel); he spoke of nought but her image. When it was day, he arose, and thought to go to her street. He asked for her ward, and he (soon) began to perceive her odour.i He inquired regarding her of the neighbours, the eunuchs, and the duennas coming and going. By chance, her fairy-cheek was at the window: the youth had paused at the head of the street; at the same moment came that envy of the peris — like the petal of the rose for grace and freshness, the perspiration was on the rose of her face, the hyacinths of her hair were in confusion. The youth became intoxicated by the zephyr from her rose; straightway his wits forsook him; suddenly his foot fell into the snare; suddenly his foot slipped from the roof; he flung himself with his own hands into the net, like the fawn that rushes headlong into the lasso. When the fairy-faced huri passed quickly away, how shall I tell what passed over him? He no longer knew his head from his foot, through his inebriety (with love); he no longer knew ^ The fragrant odour here alluded to is that arising from perspiration : Eastern poets commonly comparing beautiful girls to the nymphs of Paradise, whose perspiration is to be odoriferous as musk. Thus, the pre-Islamite Arabian poet Imra'u-'l-Qays, referring to two of his former "flames," says that "when they departed, musk was diffused from them, as the eastern gale sheds the perfume of the clove. " THE CONCEALED ROBE. 75 height or depth. He returned helpless from that street to his own house, where he gave himself up to grief. The youth had an old woman in the house, who was a mistress of spells and charms ; who had now cleared her hands from affairs of the world, but had formerly arranged many such matters. He went to her, and spoke with her, for the pain of the soul must not be hidden. When she heard his tale, she began to consider how^ to act. She had an old comrade, an effeminate one; who was fallen into the worst of plights; whose back was become (bent) like a harp, through old age; whose voice was like the boom of a drum; who was altogether hideous ; — time had given him sticks for feet. He signified to the youth that this business was in his way. So the youth told what was on his heart, for one must not conceal the secret from the counsellor. He replied: "Know, O youth, that that envy of Venus and the moon is the wife of a great merchant of our city, at whose counter Kariin^ would be a beggar. To-morrow do thou go before his shop, and buy of him a costly piece of raiment : give it to me, and thou shalt see how I will manage this business." So next day the youth went to the bazaar, and bought a robe of the merchant, which he gave to the effeminate one, who proceeded to the street where the ^ Karun is the Korah of the Bible, and, according to Muslim legends, possessed enormous wealth. See the 28th chapter of Sale's Koran, and his note. 76 THE BOOK OF SINDTBAD. moon-faced one dwelt, and by craft managed to get into the house. When the fairy-face saw his demon-hke form, she laughed and ran before him. After a while she brought a tray of food, and sat down beside him ; and he made friends with her. And when the girl was not looking, he slipped the robe under the husband's pillow, soon after which he left the house. When the good-man came back, as usual (for he was never a night absent from the house), he looked at the pillow, and saw that robe. He was amazed, and tore up the robe. As this sight was not far from sin, he was dis- gusted with life and with woman, and he struck the poor thing's head and face. The woman managed to escape from him, and went to her mother. One day the vile hag came forth from her house, and went to the house where the lady was, and in- quired what had befallen her. The lady answered: " My husband came in and struck me, though I had done nothing; — I know of nothing wrong that I did; I said nothing either good or bad. It seems as though they had cast a spell on him to make him act thus. What can I do in such a case?" The ill-omened hag thus answered her: "I know a skilful diviner, than whom no one better knows secrets; the heavens are to him as the earth; everything from the moon to the earth is as wax under his seal ; never have I seen any one who speaks more truly than he; — he will certainly be able to divine thy case, and annul the enchantment against thee." AMth such words she gained her confi- THE CONCEALED KOBE. 77 dence; and returning to the youth's house, she told him all that had happened, and he was greatly pleased with what he heard. In the morning he adorned the house as for a banquet; made it like a garden when the roses are in bloom; and collected lutists and harpers, for they say that wine without music is grief When all was ready and he was waiting their coming, there entered the demon, and after her the fairy, whose cheek was studded with perspiration, like the rose with dew in the morning. She was come to that house in order that he might draw her out a charm. The youth at once came forward to meet her, bowing much and apologising: the fairy-face saw him whose heart was distracted for her— saw him whose nights were sleep- less through longing for her. That same moment she forgot the merchant— forgot right and wrong. The hag then left the house, for the arrow had struck the mark. The youth then took her by the hand and seated her. . . The diviner looked in her face and dis- covered the state of her mind. . . When the lady had returned to her mother's house, the youth called for the hag, and said: "Since thou hast done so well, and forgotten nothing;— as thou hast done a kindness, complete it: make peace between these two mates- speak of the virtue and goodness of the wife." She said: "Yes; for such is my work." In the morning she went to the bazaar, and said to the merchant: " They have not accepted thy stuff, so I am disgusted and vexed for shame. I went on to the 78 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. house of prosperity {i.e. his own house), and there I left the stuff. Look, for it is under thy pillow. God forbid that any should have grieved through this (my mistake)." She then took the price of the stuff from the merchant, and returned to her master. When the merchant heard this story from the old woman, it seemed to him to be true, and he repented of what he had done. He took many robes better than that one, of Khataian, Baghdad!, and Chinese stuffs, and gave them to his wife, and kissed her, and begged for pardon, .saying: "My wife, the right was with thee." He rubbed his head against her feet, and so soothed and did away her displeasure.] ^ The king is again persuaded to suspend the execu- tion, and to remand his son to prison. TJie Damsel comes the Seventh Time before the King, rends her Garments^ a)id demands Justice. When the Damsel learned that her calumnies were ineffectual, and that the wrath of his Majesty, and the thirst for his son's blood, which she had excited, had been dispelled by the counsels of his sage minister, thinking that she might yet conceal from him her crime, she approached the throne, and shedding tears, exclaimed: " O king, whither is ^ See Appendix, No. i6. THE CHANGED SEX. 79 departed that justice for which you were renowned? Dread that God who created the soul, and made you ruler of the earth. When a son aims, as yours has done, at the life of his father, he is a curse, and not a blessing. Trust not your vazir, who is attached to other interests than yours, and who seeks only the aggrandisement of his own family. You yourself exercise no real sovereignty, but are guided in everything by him, and have not the liberty of a common rustic. If I have spoken too freely, consider for whose interest I am speaking. You are a mighty sovereign, and honoured with the esteem of other monarchs. Your son is but an ignorant boy, pleased with his panther and his hawk;i while your vazir is so intent on his own ambitious schemes, that he knows not months from years: entrust not the management of your kingdom to a foe. You have gained it by the sword; leave it not to the needle. Since this vazir is leagued with your son, choose another minister. What will it avail you to lament my fate, when I shall be in my grave? You know what a prince once experienced from his [father's] vazir, who acknowledged not the ties of gratitude, but involved him in dire calamity? If your Majesty desires it, I will relate the story." The 1 The cheetah, a species of panther, is trained in India and Persia to hunt the antelope. — Hawking, long a favourite sport in Europe, is still a common diversion of the Persians and Arabs. For a graphic description of hunting the antelope with hawks as well as dogs, see Malcolm's Sketches of Persia. So THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. king having expressed a wish to hear it, the Damsel relates the Story of the Prince zvho ivent to /unit, and the stratagem which the Vazir practised on him. [The whole of this story, as Falconer has stated, is wanting in the manuscript It is the tale of the prince who was changed into a woman by drinking at an enchanted fountain. — See Scott's version of the Seven VazJrs in the present volume, where it forms the fourth story of the Damsel. We must now turn back to the displaced leaves —folia 87 to 126 inclusive — which should follow the missing story of the Changed Sex. And here is another deficiency; but it may be supposed that, as usual, the king once more gives orders for the execu- tion of his son, upon which the Seventh Vazir presents himself, and, having prevailed upon his Majesty to stay the execution, begins to relate the Story of the King and the Virtuous IVife,^ the commencement of which is also wanting, but it was probably similar to that of the story as found in ^ Or, " The Lion's Track." — This fragment seems also to have escaped Falconer's notice, at least, it finds no place in his analysis. THE LION'S TRACK. Syntipas and other old versions : A king, who was very fond of women, chanced one day to see a beautiful lady on the terrace of her house, and immediately became enamoured of her. Having ascertained that she was the wife of one of his officers, or ministers, the king despatched him on a distant expedition, and soon after visited the lady one evening. Now this lady was as virtuous as she was beautiful, and, pretending to accede to the king's desire, she gave him a book to read while she bathed and adorned herself. This book consisted of warnings against the indulgence of illicit passions, and in the first page of what remains of the story, the king seems to be engaged in reading it with great interest, and the narrative thus proceeds : When the king reflected on these things, he repented of all he had previously done; and when the lady came in at the door, he looked on her with a different eye. He offered excuses to her; gave her a signet-ring^ with his name on it, in order that it might be a keep- sake for her, and then went, to his own palace, with his heart and soul wounded for what he had done. That wine-drinking, beauty-adoring king became by this means a pure devotee, with the sacred volume (the Qur'an) ever in his hand. He repented of his former wickedness, and never again did he but what was lawful. ' In the Greek and Arabic versions the king forgets his ring ; in the Hebrew, his cane; in the old Castilian, his sandals. F 82 THE BOOK OF SI ND I BAD. One night the lady's husband came home unex- pectedly. She had placed beside her the ring, which shone afar, like (the planet) Jupiter. And when he saw it, he was confounded; he examined it, and read the inscription, and recognising the royal name of the king thereon, earth and heaven became black in his eyes. The ring, which was of diamond, became a diamond for the heart of that master — it made him bleed for such a lot, as though there was poison under that signet. He thrust her forth of the house, and said nothing. The brother of the lady went before the king, and made complaint that "That good-man (his sister's hus- band) took from us a holding; without cause he has drawn back his hand from it: ask why he has left it." The king demanded of that broken-hearted one: "What is the cause of thy leaving it? If there has arisen a quarrel, on whose account is it?" Then the good-man answered thus: "O king, Defender of the Faith, Issuer of Command, I saw therein the track of the lion's foot; — can one work in the lion's place? Otherwise, there is no complaint against my ground; but it is not prudent to go in the lion's track." The king knew that this was the lady's husband, and the affair of the ring flashed upon him. So he encouraged him, saying: "Make not ill thy heart: thou art mis- taken. Do not commit a fault against thyself The lion that was there did not any harm." On hearing this, the man's heart was set at rest, and he repented THE WILES OF WOMEN. 83 the trouble and vexation he had caused his wife; he went at once and begged her forgiveness, and made all things pleasant for her. He sought the content- ment of her heart, for true was her word, and virtuous her condition.^ Having thus concluded, the vazir then proceeds to relate the Story of the Alan luho compiled a Book on the Wiles of Women? In former days and early times, there was a wise man, active in his affairs; free from stain was his skirt; no sister, or mother, or mother-in-law had he. All his life he had lived in chastity — nought knew he, save prayer. Never in all his life had he seen woman's face; his heart was at peace from the witch, woman; his heart was undisturbed by antimony or coUyrium.-^ Even the great ones of the faith, and the lions of the path, have ^ See Appendix, No. 17. - Falconer does not give this story, but refers to the version of it in Syntipas, from which, however, as well as from all other versions, it differs materially ; and he conjectured it to be told by the Fifth Vazir, an error now rectified by the insertion of the two stories proper to that vazir, which he has not noticed. '■'• It is perhaps hardly necessary to state that Asiatic women slain the edges of their eyelids with a black powder (called kohl), to increase the lustre of their naturally expressive eyes; and that antimony was formerly esteemed the best kind of collyrium. 84 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. glanced towards women. Flee thou from aloes-wood and ambergris/ as a child would escape from a lion. All day he collected (tales of) the wiles of women. He encompassed the world like the wind; he, the master, became a disciple. At length, one day he arrived at a city, and he saw in that city an experienced man, who (like himself) had spent his life in the same work: for forty years he had traversed sea and land, and tinally composed a treatise on this subject, adorned with the lies and excuses — the tricks and contrivances of women. This man became his guest, and ate at the same table; and when they were done with bread and tray, they began to converse on various subjects, and he said that which was on his mind. When he (the experienced man) saw what was the object of his guest, he redeemed him from his trouble and labour, by giving him the collection he had him- self made, including the commentary which he had also composed. And thus the young man secured what had been the ot:)ject of his life from morn till eve, and his work was completed. Thereupon, long- ing for home seized upon his heart. No evil is worse than the plight of the poor; nothing is pleasanter than one's own house. In truth, when God gives daily bread, why should the beggar trouble himself? . . . The wise man desires his own country; for delightful 1 In other words: " Keep far from women," who are, in the East, addicted to the lavish use of perfumes. THE WILES OF WOMEN. 85 is the sight of an old friend. What is pleasanter than to return home after a long absence?^ He placed his books upon a camel, and proceeded homeward. In returning he was like a hawk; he sped in that direction as a falcon. At a village, one day's journey from his city, one received him as a guest, with honour, respect, and distinction. He set down his chests of books outside, for there was no room in the house sufficient to contain them. Presently some important business called away the good-man of the house, who, on leaving, thus commissioned his wife: " O wise one, be not a moment neglectful of this man." Having said this, he went off, and left his wife, who was a rose like the cypress of Paradise. The blackness (of her eyes) was like the Water of Life; the sugar of her smile bound up the hand of the cane. She was a spring-blossom, fresher than the jasmine-leaf; covered with leaves and flowers fresher than those in the meadow. She came to seek an excuse of the youth; — see what will come of this excuse-seeking! When he ^ This is a favourite theme with poets of all lands and ages. Thus Rudaki, the Father of Persian Poetry [ana A.D. 925), exclaims, in his eulogium on P)ukhara: "The gale cometh from the stream on whose banks our relations and friends reside, and with it wafts to us the fragrant information that we are sighed after by our dear but distant companions. The sandy shore of the Amu, however painful and disagreeable, shall, in the moment of our return, feel pleasant to our feet as the softest silk." 86 THE BOOK OF SIN DIB AD. beheld her, a torrent poured from his eyes. He fell into the place of evil. He stumbled, and his face became pale: his breath became cold as the wind of autumn. The woman perceived how it was with him — how her magic had worked on that Samiri. She sat down, and soothed him. She asked, slowly and softly, her face hidden in her linen veil: "Welcome! whence hast thou come with joy? Thou hast adorned our narrow hovel ! " She was curious to know whether his load was gold — she knew not that it was the load of an ass! " O master," she said to him, "what is your load —what manner of stuff is in it?" Painfully and slowly, he gave answer, his heart filled with fire, and his soul overthrown : " It is a number of books containing all the wiles and devices of women." When the wanton beauty heard these words, she tripped out of the house. The poor wretch remained with his ow^n griefs; — there was none to draw the thorn from the wound. He forgot good and bad; he became so that he forgot himself The crafty one came back, and saved him. . . Come, now, and see his case: see the end of his work and business. The labour of forty years comes to nothing. His brain was confused, and he became mad: though he was a friend, he became a stranger. He washed out all that was in his books. He ran from door to door like the mad. Now he smote his breast with a stone, now he tore his collar. His claims all went to the winds — all his austerity, asceticism, and piety. At length, in this pain and THE PRINCE BREAK'S SILENCE. 87 stress, he died; — there was none to snatch his soul from the hand of woman's wiles.]' The ])eriod during which the evil as])ects in the l)rince's horoscope were to i)revail having now come to a close, and the seven days during which he was to keep silence being ended, he sent a messenger to the chief vazir to thank him for the exertions he had made in his behalf.' The vazir, upon this, waited on the prince, who requested him to beg for him an audience ^ See Appendix, No. 18. - Professor Comparetti seems to have been misled by the French translator of Falconer's analysis when he states that the Prince, in this text, begins to speak on the seventh day. He certainly did speak to the prime vazir on the seventh day, but did not appear at court until the day following. The text says : " When the star of the prince became good, that prince became prosperous, of victorious augury. Auspiciousness looked into his case ; inauspiciousness went away from his fortune. Thus the seven days passed over him, in which, like the lily, he never loosed his tongue. He sent to the grand vazir, that experienced man of wisdom, saying : ' Thy efforts are thanked and approved. From the good comes ever good : who cuts a good branch from a bad root? Thy rights shall never be forgotten ; for the cotton of negligence is not in my ear.' . . This message reached the vazlr's ear, and he thanked God that that sleeping fortune had awakened. To the place where the king's son lay, which was a wretched dwelling, he came." The prince tells the vazir to summon all the grandees on the niorrazo to the king's court, for then all should be made clear. Accordingly, next morning (the eighth day) the prince appears in court, and speaks in his own defence, THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. of his Majesty [on the morrow], when the nobles and courtiers should be all assembled. The vazir joyfully hastened to the king, and announced the request of the prince, expressing his confidence that it would soon appear, before the whole assembly, who was innocent and who was guilty. The king accordingly assembled his grandees [next day], and when he was seated on his throne, the sage Sindibad entered, and the king desired him to be seated. The prince next presented himself, and, after kissing his father's carpet, raising his head, he gave thanks to God that he was again permitted to appear at the foot of the throne. " When God wills not the destruction of any one," said he, " no ingenuity of man can effect it ; and if it be decreed by him, it cannot be countervailed." In illustration of this remark, the Prince relates the Story of the Poisoned Guests} [There was of old time an ocean-hearted {i.e. bounti- tiful) one, by whose hands mines would have been emptied; a noble, of auspicious step and lofty purpose, who never kept his door shut upon guests; to whose mansion was neither door, lock, nor porter. If a poor man asked him for a dirham, he gave him a dinar; if one asked him for a scrap, he gave him an ass-load. Once a party of his friends, great men, relations and 1 Here presented more fully than it is by Falconer. THE POISONED GUESTS. 89 companions of his, came to him as guests, as of wont ; came to his house and table. He received them after the fashion of the generous, for this was ever his custom. A slave-girl went to fetch milk, that he might feast his guests with sugar and milk — two very good things. She covered not the top of the milk-dish. Hearken to these words, and take warning: A stork was passing in the air, having snatched u]) an old snake from the desert. Poison was dropping through the air from that snake. How can one fly from the decrees of fate? Saliva dropped from the mouth of that viper, and that milk was mixed with poison ; and \\hoever took any of that milk fell down, and there died forthwith.]! "Who was guilty in this instance?" asked the prince ; " and who ought to have been punished?" One said: " Doubtless, the female slave, because she did not cover up the milk." Another said: "The stork was to blame for having the snake in its mouth." Another said : "The snake, for dropping its venom in the milk." " Nay, nay," said a fourth; "but the giver of the enter- tainment, who left it to his slave to bring the milk." — The prince said: "All these opinions are mistaken. No one was to blame; it was the decree of God." " There are four things," continued the prince, "about which the wise do not distress themselves: j^irst — One's daily bread; for however scant it may See Appendix, No. 19. go THE BOOK OF SINDTBAD. be, it will undoubtedly suffice to conduct one to his grave. Secofid — Death, which none can avert or retard, and which ought, therefore, to be met with resignation. Third — One's destiny, which will not cease to attend a man, notwithstanding all his exertions. Fojirth — Dis- tress, which neither the wise nor the foolish can remedy. " One is constantly engaged in devotion ; another is for ever in the tavern. Who leads the one to the street of the tavern? — who draws the other to the practice of devotion ? "Many a man, though immersed in the water, has reached the shore, while the sailor has not seen it: many an alchemist has gone to his grave poor and naked as he first entered the world; many a grave- digger has found unexpectedly the treasure of Faridun.^ The one and the other events are alike the ordinance of God. Whatever he decrees inevitably happens. If a man undergoes imprisonment and chains, it is not the order of any one, but the decree of destiny." When the king heard this address of his son, he was filled with admiration of his wisdom; he kissed his face, and took him to his bosom, and all his former love for him returned. He opened the doors of his treasury, and enriched the poor and needy. He set the prisoners free, and the debtors from their confine- ^ Thus Sa'di : " The alchemist died of grief and distress, while the blockhead found treasure under a ruin." THE CARELESS MOTHER. 91 ment. He now turned his thoughts to the philosopher Sindibad : and wlicn he reflected how he had liazarded his Hfe, his esteem for him increased, and he resolved to reward him munificently. He sent for him, and bestowed ample benefactions on the sage himself, his sons, and dependants. He then inquired of Sindibad how it happened that the prince was at first averse to learning, and after- wards made such proficiency: how he was at first silent, and afterwards had his mouth opened. Sindi- bad kissed the hand of his Majesty, and after offering vows for his prosperity, replied: "Your Majesty is aware that everything is restricted to its appointed season. The winds of winter come not in spring. The tree while it is yet but a sapling bears no fruit, but yields it when it has grown tall and affords a shade. The business was at first beset with difficulties. Much did I labour, and the seed which I sowed has sprung up and yielded increase. The prince, O king, has now no equal in this age. On whatever science you question him he will answer with correctness." The king commended the exertions of Sindibad, and, addressing the prince, requested him to explain his former backwardness. The Prince replies by relating the Stoiy of the Careless MotJier. [I HAVE heard of a lovely woman in Arabia, that when she grew up to be a fair beauty, she ever sat at her 92 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. window or in the alcove. Like the tuhp, she hid not her face from strangers ; like the hyacinth, she covered not constantly her hair. She was wanton, and joyous, and fond of pleasure, and was never without flute, harp, or tambourine. She had no care of name, or thought of fame, but all day listened to the sound of the harp. She had no fear of brother or thought of father; and in this manner she passed her days. She had a little darling (lit. a corner of her liver), very dear to her heart, from whose mouth the scent of milk would come to her. One morning she took a cord and a pitcher, and put the little darling on her shoulder. She went on to the well, where she saw a fairy-faced one, like the sun — like the cypress in figure, like the moon in face, before whom the fame of Joseph would have fallen into the well. She saw him, and lost her wits, so that she forgot herself — forgot all good and bad. In her madness, this inebriate wanton bound the cord round the child's neck, and lowered him into the well. The boy cried out, and a crowd speedily came from the road, and drew him from the well.]^ " So thoughtless is youth,"' said the prince. " Make not thyself uneasy, then, about the raw stripling, since time will render him mature. I'hus was it with me. Youth is the season of gaiety and thoughtlessness. I then cared but for sport and the chase. That 1 Falconer has condensed this story into a few lines. THE INFANT IN THE CRADLE. 93 period is now past, and no one sees it a second time, even in a dream. Reason then became my guide; and when I distinguished right from wrong, my heart was plunged in thought. Virtue and know- ledge are the only garments that never grow old. — Sire, I have seen three persons wiser than myself and more experienced in the world : the first, an infant at the breast, by the inspiration and aid of the Creator; the second, a little child of five years old ; the third, a blind old man." At the request of his Majesty, the Prince then relates the Story of the Infant, that spoke in its cradle, and reproved an adulterous king, when about to gratify an unlawful passion; on whom its words made so deep an impression, that from that time he became remarkable for his virtue and devotion. 1 The Prince next relates (fol. io8) the story of the child five years old, that instructed the woman what answer to make to her adversary and the qazi : '^ 1 See Syntipas, p. 115 of Boissonade, p. 91 of Eberhard. - The judge and magistrate in Muslim cities, who performs the rites of marriage, settles disputes, and decides civil and criminal cases, according to the Qur'an. 94 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. Story of the Stolen Purse, and the Child of Five Years. Once on a time three persons agreed among them- selves to enter into partnership, have everything in common, and share one another's secrets. One was a farmer, another a merchant, and another a dealer in grain. AVhen they had amassed a sum of money, they agreed to deposit it with an old woman of approved honesty, but on this condition, that none should ask it back, unless all the three were present. One of them was an expert sharper. Being with his companions in the street, he pretended that he was going to ask from the woman some clay and other necessaries for the bath. He approached her window, and begged her to hand him out, not what he had mentioned, but the purse. She asked where were his two partners. He said: "They are at hand; look from the window and see that they are both witnesses." The woman, seeing them, gave him the purse, while his companions never suspected any mischief The man immediately on receiving it, fled to the desert, and went to another kingdom. The two friends, after waiting some time in the street, and not finding their companion return, began to suspect what had happened, and hastening in alarm to the house of the old woman, demanded the deposit. She replied that their partner had received the money by their order and in their presence; upon which they THE CHILD OF FIVE YEARS. 95 took her before the qazi, who commanded her to re- store the deposit. She begged a delay of three days, which was granted. She departed weeping, and a child of five years of age, whom she met in the street, inquired the cause of her distress. Upon her relating it, the child smiled and said: "Tell the qazi to-morrow in the court, that when he produces the three partners before you, you are ready to restore the money." Next day she did as the child had suggested to her. The qazi, in astonishment, asked her " who had pierced this pearl." She at first claimed the merit to herself; but as the qazi would not believe that a woman could possess such wisdom, she confessed the truth; and whenever in future a difficulty occurred, the qazi referred to that child for a solution.^ 1 Although this story is omitted in the version of the Seven Vazirs translated by Scott, it is found in all other texts of the Book of Sindibad. In Syntipas, three merchants leave their gold and silver, in three purses, with an old woman in whose house they lodged. — In the Syriac text, three men travelled together into a foreign land, and, coming to a town, took up their abode with an old woman. As they were going to bathe, they said to their hostess : " Put out some bathing linen, and what else we require." She put out everything for them, but forgot the comb. Then the men entrusted the old woman with their money, and told her not to give it to any one of them alone — only when all three came together to claim it, etc. The old Castilian translation agrees exactly with the Syriac version. — In the Arabian texts, fottr merchants, who are partners in trade and possess a joint capital of a thousand dinars, in the course of a journey come to a garden with a running stream, in which 96 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. The Prince next relates the Story of the Sandal-icood Alerchaiit, and the Advice of the Blind Old Man. There was once a young man, a merchant, who wandered about the world like the zephyr or the north wind, and who, like the sun and moon, was on his travels every month and all the year round. Manifold are the advantages of travel, by which a man of enterprise becomes respected. He who has travelled is awake and intelligent; and when an affair of import- ance occurs, he is powerful; while he who has sat inactive at home can with difficulty procure a liveli- hood. Travel is the profit and the capital of man; its hardships are his nurse. Through it the raw and inexperienced at length become adepts; through it the great achieve renown. By travel the new moon perpetually becomes the full. What is travel, but a capital by which a fortune may be amassed P^ By they agree to bathe, and leave their purse with the woman who had charge of the garden. Three of them had begun to take off their clothes when they discovered that they had no comb, so the fourth, who was still dressed, was requested by his partners to ask the woman for one ; but he asked and obtained the purse, and so on, as in the present version. — See Appendix, No. 20. ' "Capital is multiplied twice and thrice over, by repeatedly buying and selling, by those who have knowledge and travel to other lands." — Pancha Tantra. — For some verses in praise of travel, see Appendix, No. 21. THE BLIND OLD MAN. 97 travel this young man became alert and active; and he who is active attains to wealth. He was now in Khata, now in Khutan;^ now in Aleppo, and now in Yaman. He carried the products of Khurasan to Kh,arazm;2 he conveyed the stuffs of Ispahan to the emperor of China. As he sold in Bukhara the products of Abyssinia, he necessarily sold them at i,ooo per cent. (lit. one for ten).^ Some one having told him that at Kashgar sandal- wood was of equal value with gold, and was sold for its weight in that metal, he resolved to proceed thither; and accordingly, having converted all his capital into sandal-wood*, he set out on his journey. When he arrived near Kashgar, a person of the country, hearing that he had a large supply of sandal-wood (in which he himself dealt), and fearing that that commodity would be depreciated by its abundance, devised the follow- ing stratagem. Going two stages out of the city, he halted at the spot where the foreign merchant was; and having pitched his tent and opened his bales, he lit a fire and piled sandal-wood on it for fuel. When the ^ Both Khata and Khutan were kingdoms, or principalities, in Chinese Tartary. - Kh,arazm is a region lying along the River Oxus, and extending to the Caspian Sea. ■' "Of all goods, perfumes are the best: gold is not to be com- pared to the article which is procured for one, and is parted with for a thousand. " — Pancha Tantra. ^ Perfumed woods — spiced woods. — Syntipas. G 98 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. merchant smelt the odour of the sandal-wood he rushed from his tent in amazement and vexation. The man from the city saluted him, saying: "You are welcome; may God protect you from evil! Say, from what country do you come, and what mer- chandise bring you?" The merchant informed him. "You have made a sad blunder," remarked the citizen. " Why have you brought cumin-seed to Kirman?^ The whole timber of this country is sandal- wood : every casement, roof, and door is composed of it. If one were to bring common wood hither, it would be far better than sandal-wood. Who has been so cruel as to suggest to you this ill-advised scheme? From whose hand proceeds such a blunder as this? Does anyone bring the musk-bladder to Chinese Tartary?"2 "Alas!" said the young man to himself, "I have thrown away my capital ! Covetousness is an unblest passion ! Alas, for my long journey, and the hardships I have endured! What have they availed me? He who is not content with what God allots him, never prospers." The man, seeing the merchant now ready for his purpose, said to him : " The world is never free from profit and loss. Give this sandal-wood to me, and I 1 Apparently a proverbial expression. — F. - Equivalent to our popular saying, "Coals to Newcastle." Musk, the perfume so much esteemed in the East, is obtained from the navel of a species of deer found in Tartar}' and Thibet. THE BLIND OLD MAN. 99 will give you in return a measure of gold or silver, or of whatever else you shall ask."^ The merchant con- sented; two witnesses were called, and the bargain was struck. The merchant considered that the sum he should receive was so much gain, and was rejoiced to be rid of so worthless an article as he had brought. He thence proceeded to the city of Kashgar, and entering that delightful spot, that model of Paradise, took up his lodging in the house of a virtuous old woman. Of her the merchant asked a question, the reply to which brought him grief and trouble. He inquired: "What is the value of sandal-wood in this kingdom?" and she informed him that it was worth its weight in gold.^ " In this city," said she, " headache is common; and hence it is in demand." At this intelligence the merchant became distracted, for he saw that he had been duped. He related his adven- ture to the old woman, who cautioned him not to trust the inhabitants of that city, by whose cunning many had been ruined. When morning came, he washed his eyes from sleep, ^ "On this account, then, if you are needy, come and sell your whole business, and what you wish, I shall give you upon a full plate. " — Syntipas.—" And the man said, I have great grief for thee. Since it is so, I will buy it of thee, and give thee what thou shalt wish. And now get up, and give it to me" — Libra de los Engannos. - Precisely the same answer is made by the old woman both in the Greek and the old Castilian translations : " It is worth its weight in gold." THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. and inquired the way to the market. Thither he bent his course, and wandered through market, street, and field, still solitary, and without a friend or companion. The alien has no portion in enjoyment : he is a martyr wherever he dies. I will suppose him to be but second to Kay-Qubad,^ and that he has placed on his head the diadem of Faridun. Even were he Joseph of Egypt, yet when he calls to mind his home and country, a palace becomes to him a prison. The young merchant was sad at heart, for his enter- prise was entirely at a stand. Suddenly he observed a person playing at draughts in the street. He stopped, and thought to himself: "I will play with this person to dispel my grief;" and sat down beside the player, forgetful of the caution which his landlady had given him. The other agreed to let him play, on condition that whichever of them should lose should be bound to do whatever the winner should desire.^ The merchant was soon beaten by his crafty opponent, who, upon this, required him to " drink up the waters of the sea," a demand at which the merchant was con- founded and perplexed. The report spread through Kashgar, and a crowd soon collected. Another of the gang had but one eye, which was blue, the colour of the merchant's eyes. " You have stolen my eye," said ^ Kay-Qubad was the founder of the second, or Kayani, dynasty of ancient Persian kings. - "Otherwise, surrender all his property" must, of course, be understood to be the alternative. THE BLIND OLD MAN. he to the merchant, and he claimed it in the presence of the crowd. A third produced a stone, and said: " Make from this piece of marble a pair of trousers and a shirt. "^ The story soon spread, and all Kashgar was in a bustle. The old woman, hearing of it, hastened from her house, and saw her lodger involved in difficulty. She was surety for him, with ten householders, that she would deliver him, when required, to the court of justice. When they reached home, she reproached him, saying: "When a man listens not to advice, fresh calamities will constantly overtake him. Did I not tell you to have absolutely no dealings with the inhabitants of this city — no intimacy with them?" — "It was no fault of yours," replied the youth; "but there is no remedy against the decrees of destiny." He was much dispirited, but she consoled him. " Be not downcast," said she; "for joy succeeds to grief; there can be no cure till there be a complaint. In this city there is a blind old man, with neither power in his feet nor strength in his hands; but a man of great intelligence and acuteness. Those sharpers assemble nightly at his house, and are directed by him how to act. Do you this night dress yourself like them, and repairing to his house sit silent among them. When your adversaries shall enter and relate their ^ As the merchant is not stated to have been engaged in play with this sharper, there is probably something omitted here by the copyist. THE BOOK OF SI ND I BAD. adventures of the day, mark his answers and his questions. Be all ear there, like the rose; hke the narcissus, be all eye and silent." The young man did as she desired, and repairing thither at night, quietly seated himself in a corner. The first who entered was the person who had bought the sandal-wood. He related his adventure. " I have bought a quantity of sandal-wood," said he, " for which I am to give one measure of whatever the seller may choose." "O simpleton!" exclaimed the old man, " you have thrown yourself into the net. This crafty merchant has over-reached you, my son. For if he should demand of you neither silver nor gold, but a j^'^ of male fleas, with silken housings and jewelled bridles, and all linked together with golden chains, say, how will you be able to extricate yourself from this difficulty?" — "How," rephed the sharper, "could that simpleton ever think of such a trick?" — "However that may be," said the old man, " I have given you your answer." Next entered the draught-player, and related the adventure of the game. "I have beaten him at draughts," said he, "and have bound him to this condition (and there are witnesses to our agreement), that he shall drink up the whole waters of the sea." — "You have blundered," replied the old man, "and ^ The 5rt', according to Falconer, is a measure containing four bushels. Lane says that it is (in Egypt) very nearly equal to six English pints and two thirds. THE BLIND OLD MAN. 103 have involved yourself in difificulty. You thought you had taken him in: in imagination you had caught him in a snare from which there was no escape. But suppose he should say: 'First, pray stop all the streams and rivers that are flowing into the sea, before I drink it dry;"i what possible answer can you return?" — "How," said the knave, "could he, in his whole life, think such a thought?" Next the other sharper entered — a knave more shameless than the other two. " I desired him," said he, "to make with his own hands a pair of trousers and a shirt from this slab of stone." The crafty old man replied: "You have managed worse than all. For if your opponent should say : ' Do you first weave me from iron the thread to sew it with,'-^ how will you be able to reply?" — "How should a simpleton like him think of such an idea?" said the sharper. ^ In the old German folk-book, which recounts the exploits of Tyl Eulenspiegel, the arch-rogue is commanded to state the quantity of water in the sea, and returns the same answer as this suggested by the blind old man. This also occurs in one of Sacchetti's novels, but the reply is somewhat different. - A jest very similar to this is found in the Talmud. An Athenian, walking in the streets of Jerusalem one day, saw a tailor seated on his shop-board, busily plying his needle, and picking up a broken mortar, he asked him to be so good as put z. patch upon it. " Willingly," replied the tailor, taking up a handful of sand and offering it to the joker; "most willingly, sir, if you will hrst have the goodness to make me a few threads of this material." I04 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. The man with one eye next came in. "That youth," said he, "has blue eyes. I said to him: 'This is my eye; it is evident to every one that you have stolen it; restore it, and return my other eye its fellow.'" — " O ignorant of the wiles of the age," replied the old man; "your fortune is more adverse than that of all the rest. Suppose he should say : ' Pluck out your one eye, and then I will pluck out one of mine, that we may put them both in scales and judge by their weight whether you are right.' That man will then have one of his eyes remaining, while you will be quite blind." " He will never," said the other, " think of such a trick as that."^ 1 In the Calcutta, Bulaq, and Breslau Arabic texts, the merchant, after disposing of his sandal-wood, is accosted by the one-eyed man, and obtains a day's respite, having provided surety ; his shoe having been torn in the scuffle, he takes it to a cobbler, saying : ' ' Repair it, and I will give thee what will content thee;" then he plays at dice with a fourth sharper, and, losing the game, is required to drink up the sea, or sur- render all his property. The blind old man tells the cobbler that the merchant might say to him: "The sultan's troops have been victorious, and the number of his children and allies is increased — art thou content?" — to which he dare not reply in the negative ; and the dice-player might be asked to hold the mouth of the sea and hand it to him, and he would drink. — In Syntipas and the Libro de los Engannos, as in the present version, the " stopping of the rivers " is the old man's suggestion ; and the incident of the cobbler is not mentioned. — All that remains of this story in the unique Syriac MS. text, discovered by Rodiger, and printed, with a GeiTnan translation, by Baethgen, THE BLIND OLD MAN. 105 The young man listened, unobserved, to all that had passed, hastened home, and gave the woman a thousand thanks for having put him on a plan of foiling his adversaries. He passed the night in calm- ness and tranquillity. Next morning, when the parties appeared before the qazi, the first, who had bought the sandal-wood, seized the merchant by the collar, saying: " Produce your measure, that I may fill it, and give you your due." When the merchant gave him his reply, he was confounded, and sat down mortified in presence of the qazl. In like manner the merchant made to each of the rest the reply which the old man had suggested. At length, after a hundred difficulties and objections, the merchant consented to take back his sandal-wood, and several bags of gold as compen- sation ; and he availed himself of the first opportunity which offered to escape from the power of those worthless people.^ is the opening sentence: "There was once a merchant, who bought a scented wood which is called aloe. When he heard " — and here it breaks off. ^ This tale seems directed by the author of the present text of the Sindibdd as a satire upon the citizens of Kashgar. It bears some resemblance to the rabbinical legends of the infamous people of Sodom, who are represented as accomphshed sharpers, and their judges as perverters and mockers of justice. For example : if a man were wounded by another to the effusion of blood, the judge would order him to pay the offender the fee for blood-letting ; and if one cut off the ear of his neighbour's ass, he was given the ass to keep until its ear grew again ! lo6 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. When his Majesty heard this tale, he blessed heaven that he had such a son; then, turning to his ministers and courtiers, he inquired to whom they considered him indebted for such a blessing. The first said: "To the prince's mother, who attended carefully to his bringing-up." Another ascribed his excellence to his father; another to the attention of Sindibad; "for," said he, "if the sun withhold his glance, how could the stone be converted into a ruby or a turquoise?"^ Another said: "Nay; but to your Majesty's ministers, who have been a shield interposed between the prince and calamity, so that the shaft of woman hath not taken effect." Then the eloquent Sindibad opened his mouth like the lily, and said : " There is none worthy of thanks or praise save God — that God who bestows vision and hearing; for nothing proceeds from the blind and deaf. He it is who has bestowed on the prince his capacity and talent." The king then asked the prince which of these opinions he considered as the best. The Prince rephed by relating the Story of the Kings DaugJiter and her Four Liberators. A POWERFUL and mighty king, on the confines of Kashmir, had an only daughter, of great beauty, whom ^ It was believed that rubies were common stones on which the sun had shone for ages. THE FOUR LIBERATORS. 107 he fondly loved. One day in spring she obtained permission of her father to visit the gardens which lay without the city. Here her tent was erected, and she sported for some time with her maidens, when sud- denly, while she sat on the margin of a tank, there arose a dust and a great cloud, from which a black div^ came forth, and seized and carried her off. Her maidens were frightened, and some tore their hair, others scratched their cheeks. When the king heard of the circumstance, he was filled with grief and afflic- tion. A\'hen he had somewhat recovered from the shock, he caused it to be proclaimed that whoever should bring back his daughter should obtain her in marriage, along with half his kingdom. There were in that city four persons of great ability. One was a guide, who had travelled over the world — in the morning in China, at night in Khata. The second, a daring freebooter, who would have taken the prey from the lion's mouth. The third, a cavalier like Rustam,- the model of Isfandiyar^ in fight. The fourth, a physician of blessed approach, whose breath possessed the life-giving virtue of the Messiah's.'* All ^ Divs are demons, corresponding in their power and disposi- tion to the evil genii (all the genii, or jinn, are not bad) of the Arabians, and to the Rakshasas of the Hindus. - Rustam, the Hercules of the Persians, whose exploits are recorded in the Shah Nama (Book of Kings), the grand epic, or rather series of epics, of the celebrated poet FirdausT. ^ Isfandiyar, a renowned warrior, who was slain in battle by Rustam. •* See note 4, page 40. lo8 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. the four were sons of the same father and mother, and each had his pecuHar gifts. On hearing the proclama- tion, they agreed that this was an enterprise suited for them. The guide led the way, and searched every- where, while his brothers accompanied him. The div inhabited a cave in the mountains of Yaman. When they reached it, the robber, who was the most daring of the three, entered it, and brought the damsel out, the div being absent at the time. When he returned, and found this Layli missing, he rushed out, troubled in heart like Majnun,^ and despatched a party of demons in their pursuit, bearing ponderous clubs on their shoulders. The warrior put them to flight with his sword. The damsel was dangerously ill, but the physician prescribed for her, and restored her to health. Having thus achieved their task, they joyfully re- paired to court, and each related his own achieve- ment. The king was delighted, and grateful for the recovery of his daughter. He opened his treasury, and bestowed gifts on the poor. He sent for those four persons, to reward them. On the first he bestowed the tribute of the highways; the daring 1 Majnun and Layli are the names of two Arabian lovers, whose constancy is celebrated throughout Islam ; they are the Romeo and Juliet, the Abelard and Heloise, of Oriental poets and romance writers. The great Persian Nizami (13th century) composed a beautiful poem on the Loves of Layli and Majnun, which has been translated into English verse by Atkinson. THE FOUR LIBERATORS. 109 freebooter he made his kafadar, or protector of his person; [the physician he made his vazir;] and the cavaher he seated on his throne, and gave him his daughter in marriage, according to his promise.^ Thus, every thing has its pecuhar quahty and re- commendation. Honey possesses sweetness, but is unfit to make vinegar. One robs, another guides; one sells, another buys. Had not the guide led the way, who would have conducted them aright in that intricate research ? Had not the robber entered the cave, who would have brought the damsel out? Had not the warrior fought, who would have opposed the army of demons? Had not the physician prescribed, the damsel would not have been restored to health. ["Although this tale is very disordered," adds the Prince, "it is yet an example of the circumstances of this slave (himself). Were hearts without sins, of a certainty the earth would have remained void of God's mercy. (Do thou, then, overlook my short- comings.) Had there not been a counselhng master, surely, in the ' A B c ' school, things would have been hot. Had I not borne this effort and trouble, the foot of endeavour had not descended to the treasure. Had not my body been healthy — if all remedies for weakness had been weak — how could I have so struggled and kicked? — how had I arrived thus at the desiderated place? All is the 'unmerited goodness' ^ See Appendi.x, No. 22. THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. of the Sustainer (God), and enough! For no deed ariseth from the hand of man." When the Prince concluded, the king and his vazirs were warm in their applause.^ The title of the next chapter is as follows : The End of the Affair of the Damsel, ivho zaas taken in her ozvn Device, and punished by the ivord of the Prince?' Only a page of this chapter remains. The Damsel is made to sit on her knees opposite the Prince, who ^ Professor Comparetti justly complains that, so careless has Falconer been at this part of his work, one does not know from it whether this final tale is told by the Prince or by Sindibad. We are first informed that it is related by the Prince, and after- wards that " when Sindi/>dd had concluded," etc. The story, as the title in the manuscript shows, is certainly told by the prince, and the comments upon it seem also to be his, since Sindibad is not mentioned in connection with this tale. Falconer has thus rendered the story-teller's concluding observations, which he puts into the mouth of the sage : ' ' This tale and these remarks are applicable to my own case and that of the prince. Had not I exerted myself, and he possessed talent, all would have been in vain. But everything is due to the goodness of God, without whose aid all human efforts are vain. " - Sar-anjdmi kari kanizak, ki ha 'aiiiali kli'mi giriftdr shtid ; wa ta'zlri n ha qatvli shah-zdda. According to Falconer's rendering, ' ' the Damsel is pardoned at the intercession of the Prince." The word ^a'sfr, however, CONCLUSION. is in the same posture, before the king's throne. The Prince says: "O king of the world, I have no witness except God ! This violence did not proceed from me, for one must needs be ashamed thereof. God knows that his slave (himself) is good; — seek not good from those who know not God." The king treated that sinner (the damsel) with contempt: "This is the time of question and answer. Why hast thou blackened thy own face?^ Why hast thou done evil against this innocent one? Had he ever done (aught wrong) to thee? Had he injured thee or thine? Thou hast made thyself an example in the world till the judg- ment day. See what thy deeds have brought to pass ! See now, how just is thy retribution! As thou hast mingled the diamond with the draught, drink thou it first, for thou hast poured it out. Brink up the dregs, for it is thy turn. Why should the master of the feast act wrongfully? Seek not that for thyself which thou seekest not for others, for none who does evil sees good." The damsel perspired like the (dew-sprent) rose does not mean "pardoned," but "punishing by severe stripes;" it also signifies "reproving." From what remains, as follows above, of this important chapter, we cannot say which of the two meanings of the term is the more appropriate. 1 In other words, "Why hast thou disgraced thyself?" In Persia criminals are often led through the streets with their faces blackened. When an ambassador has returned from a successful mission, or a general from a brilliant campaign, he is said to have "made his face ivhitc before the king." This, as well as the other phrase, must be familiar to readers of Morier's Haji Baba. 112 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. for shame. She wept over her plight, and said: " Now have I no choice therein; — not once, but a hundred times, have I done it. Order that they tear out my hly-tongue,^ if thy slave (herself) has been free and bold."] 2 The commencement of the next chapter is wanting. Sindibad has been making some remarks on the impossibility of avoiding destiny. The king then compliments him on the success with which he had educated the prince. " If I formerly had confidence in your wisdom and virtue," said his Majesty, "it is now increased a hundredfold. You are aware what happy results you have produced, and what accom- plishments you have imparted to my son. In return for your exertions in giving life to this ancient house, 1 The tongue is often, from its shape, likened to the leaf of the lily. - We are thus, unfortunately, left in ignorance of what was the end of the Damsel in this text. In the Mishle Sandabar, she is pardoned at the intercession of the prince; in Nakhshabl's Persian version (8th night of the Tutl Nama), she is hanged : in the Calcutta and Bulaq printed Arabic texts, she is banished from the city; in the Libra dc los Engannos, the king orders her to be burnt in a dry caldron ; in Syntipas, she is condemned to be driven through the city upon an ass, with her head shaved and her face blackened, accompanied by the criers to proclaim her crimes ; in Scott's Seven Vazirs, a large stone is tied to her feet, and she is thrown into the sea.— See Appendix, No. 23. CONCLUSION. 1^3 I will place your own family in affluence and indepen- dence." He then bestowed munificent gifts on the philosopher. His Majesty next inquired : " Whence did you acquire all this wisdom and excellence, and at whose house did you light your taper?" — Mark how wise an answer the philosopher returned: "Reason, sire, was my instructor," said he. " He who takes reason for his guide will conduct his affairs to a successful issue; for it is a drop from the ocean of God's grace — a key to open — an unerring guide to conduct. I have plucked a rose from the garden of the intelligent; I have profited by the wisdom of the wise.^ Never was there one like Faridun in wisdom, on whom may there be every moment a thousand benedictions! That wise, just, and pious monarch thus addressed the prince who was to succeed him : ' Inscribe on the walls of my palace these counsels, fraught with wisdom, that my words may remain for ever as my memorial after me.' Counsels wliich zvere inscribed around the Hall of the Jiappy Faridun. If thou possessest wisdom and understanding, lend not thine ear, as far as thou canst avoid it, to a tale-bearer. Such a person has no merit, unless it be 1 Compare Sa'dl: " I have gathered something in each corner; I have gleaned an ear in every harvest.'* H 114 THE BOOK OF SIN DIB AD. this, that he carries a he from Khata to China. Grant not such a one a second audience; admit him not to a confidential interview. Be not careless of an ill-disposed enemy; for negli- gence is not excusable under any circumstances, and whilst thou art engaged with other affairs, he is plotting how to injure thee. Take not compassion on snake or serpent; for the one is a torment, the other a calamity. If thou hast a friend sincere and accordant, make him thy constant associate. Take not counsel with any save the wise; turn not from such a straight path. Beware of the ignorant man and his conversation, schemes, and writing. Beware of the domestic enemy, whose reliance is on his ignorance and folly. Leave not thorns in the highway, lest perchance thy own foot be wounded unaware. The person whom thou hast not known all his life — to whom thou hast not given thy confidence — whose companion thou hast not been in travel (for in travel a man is exposed to perils) — to whom thou hast given nothing, and from whom thou hast received nothing — place not reliance on that person, if thou art wise. A demon whom thou knowest is better than a huri whom thou knowest not. Beware of speaking, except on occasions when thy speaking may be useful. CONCLUSION. 115 So speak, that when thou speakest again, thy words may be the same — nay, better. " How can there be [adds Sindibad] better counsels than those which have the warrant of Faridun?" The king next interrogated the philosopher on the affairs of the world. " Accomplished sage," said he, "who is deserving of sovereignty, and whom does the diadem become?" " The answer," replied the sage, " is clear as the sun. He deserves to wear a crown, he is worthy of dominion, who knows the worth and dignity of every one, and who pays to each the respect due to him. Entrust not important affairs to the mean man, for he will be impotent under the mighty load." Again the king asked: " Of monarchs, say, who is the most to be approved ? — of the virtues of monarchs, which is the most laudable?" " He," replied the sage, " who examines an affair in all its bearings, who acts with prudence, and who is neither precipitate nor dilatory." Various other questions were then put by his Majesty, and answered to his satisfaction by Sindibad; after which he asks the prince to produce some such pearls of advice as those which his tutor had strung. The prince complies, and delivers a series of moral, pru- dential, and religious maxims, which serve to show that he had improved wonderfully under the tuition of Sindibad, but with which the reader will perhaps Ii6 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. dispense. Suffice it to say, that the king was struck with admiration at the wisdom of his son; and being now in his seventieth year, reflected thus : " How long," said he to himself, " shall the wine- pitcher, the wine, the drum, and the lute engross thee? By thy arm and might didst thou seize the royal crown. Thou hast amassed treasures in abund- ance by shedding the blood of the weak, not by the hand of toil. Thou hast taken from him who had nothing, and bestowed on him who left behind him. Neither was he from whom those treasures were ex- torted guilty, nor he who received them deserving. Then what wisdom was there first in taking from such a one, and next in bestowing on the other? " But thou shalt be seized and receive the penalty of thy misdeeds in that day when every act shall be brought to light. What profit has resulted to thee from this life of seventy years? Go, make blind the eye of thy desire; prepare thy coffin, and benefit at least him who digs thy grave. Long enough have thy thoughts of Rum, and thy projects on Khata, engaged thee; go now, prepare thy provision for the journey of eternity. How long wilt thou continue the tormentor of the free-born? How long wilt thou devour the liver of the unfortunate? " Perhaps thou believest not in a resurrection; i)er- chance thou reckest not of a day of judgment ? This delusion proceeds from the clamour of the drum and the bell: but wait until the blowing of the trump. CONCLUSION. "7 and it will be dispelled. Employ the time that remains to thee in devotion; go, retire to a corner, and be at peace : henceforward seek distinction only as a recluse. Content thee with a barley loaf, and eat not the barley and the wheat of the poor. The time has now arrived to repent of thy misdeeds. Thank God that thou hast a worthy successor in thy son — that darling of thy heart —that pearl of thee, the oyster-shell. In knowledge he is far thy superior; in vigour and energy more powerful. Thy day and night are over: it is now his day. The tree which time has dried up, I should marvel were it to bear fruit. When the branches of the willow are decayed, who looks to it for shade? What can be better for thee than that thy son should succeed thee, and preserve thy name upon the earth?" He thus spoke, and went, with faltering steps, into the corner of retirement. For a week he beheld not the face of man ; gave his courtiers no audience, and assigned not to his vazirs their various duties, but re- mained alternately engaged in prayer and praise. The King has a Dream, sends for his Vazirs and Officers of State, bestows in their presence the sovereignty on his Son, and goes into retirement. When the king awoke from that dream, and was roused from that high intoxication, he comprehended the good and the evil of life, and, on an auspicious Il8 THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. day, summoned around his throne the ministers of rehgion, the nobles, vazirs, and the generals of his army, and seated beside him on the throne his son and the sage Sindibad. Looking towards his left hand, where was his chief vazir, he said : " O worthy and experienced man ! the world remains eternally to no one; but the Lord of the world remains, and he alone. In this life of seventy-five years, I have experienced but trouble, and sorrow, and suffering; and should I have yet seventy-five years more to live, would not that time also come to a close? My vision is dull; what was once strong is now weak. When the old man's form is bent like a bow, do not suppose that there is any better course for him than retirement. When the hand that should wield the sword trembles, why should you talk of sword or hanger? Shall I tell you what gray hairs are? They are the heralds of misfortune — the messengers that bid cease to hope.^ "Whether I am a king or an athlete, I am not higher in rank than Kay-Khusrau.^ who resigned the 1 So, too, in the romance of the Four Dervishes, when King Azadbakht discovered the first white hair in his beard, he exclaimed: " Death has already sent me a messenger! " 2 Kay-Khusrau (Cyrus), the third king of the KayanI (Median) dynasty of ancient Persia. He ascended the throne in the hfetime of his grandfather, Kay-Kaus, who resigned the crown in his favour. He had many battles with Afrasiyab, King of Turan, who was at last defeated, captured, and slain. Soon afterwards Kay-Khusrau resolved to devote the remainder CONCLUSION. 119 sovereignty to Luhrasp, and his knowledge in affairs to Jamasp. The time has arrived for me to retire: when age and its infirmities have come on, the crown and throne yield no pleasure. My sovereignty came to me from my father ;i I now entrust it, as a deposit, to my son. You know that he is the centre of my hopes. If he be good, you have educated him; if evil, you have made him so." He then called his son to him, kissed his face, and, taking him by the hand, pressed him for a while in his embrace; after which, removing the crown from his head, he placed it on his son's, seated him on the throne, and came down from it, while the crowd con- gratulated him with tears in their eyes. "This," said he, " is the memorial of his father: this of his life to religious retirement ; he resigned his throne to Luhrasp, the son-in-law of Kay-Kaiis, and his own son by adoption and affection. Then he went with many of his nobles to a spring which he had fixed upon as the place of his repose. Here he disappeared (like Arthur and other favourite heroes of romance, he did not die), and all who were with him were over- taken by a great snow-storm and perished. 1 Yet the damsel is previously represented (page 79) as re- minding his Majesty that he had gained his kingdom by the sword ; and the king himself says (page 1 16) that by his arm and might he had seized on the royal crown. Moreover, at the commencement of the tale we are informed that he was a mighty sovereign of India ; while in another part of the text (not intro- duced into the present analysis) he is described as the Chosroes of Rum and Kashmir. Such contradictory statements are not uncommon in compositions of this kind. THE BOOK OF SINDIBAD. son is my refuge, and my dispeller of grief. To him do I resign my kingdom, hoping that you will reward me by your loyalty to him, and that you will not allow a stranger to occupy the place of this house." ' His son being accepted by the people, the aged king caused an oratory to be built for himself, closed the door against the interruptions of worldly business, and sat down in tranquillity and retirement. Happy fortune! happy end! happy king! happy reign! Henceforward he had no concern but devotion and the duties of rehgion. Go,- learn from him how to govern — how to cherish thy subjects. Turn not away from the counsels of the wise, but listen to the discourse of venerable worthies. The A^ithors Concliidvig Remarks. To me, too, the time of retirement has arrived: I, too, must totter to my corner. If he left to his son a kingdom, and betook himself to solitude, I likewise, for my dear and virtuous son, have left this renowned ^ The abdication of the king in favour of his son is omitted in Syntipas and the Libra de los Engannos ; it is, however, in Nakhshabi's Ti'iti Ndtna (8th Night), and in the Seven Vazirs of Scott's and the Breslau texts. In some manuscripts of the Mishle Sandabar, a passage has been added, stating that Sanda- bar died, at the age of 130, contemporaneously with the king (Bibar), whose son then ascended the throne. - This exhortation seems addressed to the poet's royal patron, by whose command the work was composed. CONCLUSION. book, more valuable than treasure and wealth; a book by which, as long as Persian shall exist, as long as earth shall be beneath and heaven above, his name shall be perpetuated, whose end be happy ! May the king not withdraw from him his favour; that king whose fortune may it be young, whose life long! O God! withdraw not thy guidance from me: deprive me not of thy grace at last! My toilsome journey is accomplished: this new work has attained completion ! THE SEVEN VAZlRS. EDITOR'S PREFACE. The following translation of "'The Story of the King, his Son, the Damsel, and the Seven Vazirs " was made by Jonathan Scott from a fragment of an Arabic MS. of the Thousand and One Nights, procured in Bengal, and published by him, in a volume entitled Tales, Anecdotes, and Letters, translated from the Arabic and Persian, in 1800. Scott states, in his preface, that in translating these tales, he had omitted a few objectionable expressions : in reprinting the Seven Vazirs, I have taken the liberty of omitting some others Avhich Scott thought fit to be retained ; have adopted a more generally approved system of transliteration for the Arabic words and proper names which occur in the stories ; and occasionally have made verbal altera- tions and emendations. Scott's notes are distinguished by the letter S from those which I have added. It does not appear that Scott was aware that this tale of the Sei'en Vazirs is an Arabian version, with some stories omitted and others interpolated, of the ancient Book of Sindibad — indeed it may be doubted whether he knew of such a work at all ; nor does he seem to have suspected its affinity to the Eurojiean romance of the Seven Sages, with an English rendering of which he was surely acquainted. Although those tales which are foreign to the original work have probably been inserted in the Seven Vazirs at a comparatively recent period, in recasting 126 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. some version of the Book of Sindibad for the Thottsand and One Nights, they are yet of very ancient origin, and widely diffused, as will be seen from the variants and parallels presented in the Appendix, and therefore serve as interesting illustrations of the genealogy of popular tales and fictions. In the Calcutta and Buliiq printed Arabic texts of the Thousand and One Nights the tale of the Sr,.'en Vazirs occupies the 578th to the 606th Nights. Scott's manuscript seems to have been com- plete to the 29th Night, after which the division into nights was discontinued, the Seven Vazirs immediately following — probably having been misplaced. I may add, that while the conclusion of this version is greatly abridged, compared with that of the tale as found in the Calcutta and Bulaq texts, the introduction has been much more fully preser\'ed, and corresponds in many points with the oldest Eastern texts of the Sindibad. W. A. C. THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Introduction. There lived in ancient days a powerful and mighty sultan, who was a wise sovereign, just to his subjects, bountiful to his dependants, and beloved by the whole empire; but he was become gray-bearded and stricken in years, and there had not been allotted to him a son, who might preserve his memory, and inherit the kingdom after him. On this account uneasiness as- sailed him, and such depression of spirits, that he secluded himself from society, and passed whole days in his private apartments. At length his subjects began to murmur concerning him.^ Some said he was dead; others, that an accident ^ The princes of Asia, except prevented by illness, give public audience twice a day. When this has been neglected by the idle or the dissipated, it has generally proved their ruin, or at least been the cause of troublesome commotions, as the powerful chiefs were left uncontrolled by the interference of the sovereign, who at these audiences received the appeals and petitions of the meanest subjects, and redressed their grievances. One of the chief causes of the fall of the khalifate, the Persian and Mogul empires, was the disuse of frequent public audiences. — S. 128 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. had befallen him. On a certain day his queen entered his chamber, and found him thoughtful, reclining his head towards the earth, like one plunged in sorrow. She approached, and, kissing his hand, said : " For- tune has not persecuted thee, nor have the evils of chance reached thee. God has bestowed upon thee enjoyments, and given thee every delight. What, then, is the cause that I find thee so pensive?" He replied: "Alas! my years are advanced, my age is drawing to its end, and my kingdom will pass to another family; for I am not blessed with a son, with whom my eyes might be delighted, and who might succeed me in my dominions. On this account extreme sorrow has overcome me." The queen said: "God will remove thy grief and thy sorrow. The same thoughts which afflicted thy heart have afflicted mine, and what had invaded thy mind was invading mine, when, lo! drowsiness over- came me, and I fell asleep. I dreamt, and saw in my vision a phantom, which revealed to me, saying: 'If the sultan shall be blessed with a son by almighty God, he will with difficulty be preserved from death at a certain period. After that, prosperity will attend him. But if a daughter is born, her father will not love her; and if she lives, she will occasion the ruin of his kingdom. He must not, however, think of a child by any other woman than thyself, and thou shalt be the cause of his having one when the moon and the sign Gemini shall be in conjunction.' I now awoke from INTK on UC TION. 1 2 9 sleep, and became thoughtful, reflecting on what I had heard in my vision." When the sultan heard these words, he said to her: " By God's permission, all will be well;" and the queen did not fail to comfort him until his gloom had passed away. He now quitted his retirement, sat upon the throne of his kingdom, summoned his nobles and his subjects, and entreated their prayers, that God would bless him with a son; when they prayed, and God accepted their prayers. The night being arrived in which the moon and Gemini entered into conjunction, the queen became pregnant. She informed the sultan of her condition, and he rejoiced with exceeding great joy, and did not refrain, until she had borne her months, and brought forth a son, beautiful as the full moon. Then the sultan made rejoicings from evening till morning, gave alms, and released the prisoners. The infant was suckled nearly two years, when the mother returned to the mercy of God, and they lamented over her with great mourning. The child did not cease to remain on the bosoms of the nurses and female attendants until he had com- pleted his second year, when his father entrusted him to tutors, that they might teach him what was necessary for princes to acquire.^ The eighth year of his age ^ The period of ablactation in the East is generally at the end of the second year ; but there must have been something omitted by the copyist here. — See below, note, page 134. 1 13° THE SEVEN VAZIRS. passed over, but he had learnt nothing, for every book was to him too difficult. When the tutors represented this to the sultan, he was enraged against his son, and commanded him to be put to death, saying: "This is a disgraceful child, from whom there can no advantage arise." There was at the court a man of wisdom^ learning, and penetration, deeply versed in every science.^ When he found that the sultan intended to kill his son, he advanced, and kissing the ground before him, said: "O sovereign, be not grieved on account of thy son. Entrust him to me, and I will teach him what- ever is necessary in two years. '-^ I will not deceive you, but instruct him in the sciences, philosophy, and princely accomplishments." — The sultan exclaimed: " How canst thou make him learn, when every book has been too difficult for him, and his tutors have been wearied out?" — The sage replied: "I pledge myself to do it; and if I do not perfect him in what I have men- tioned, act by me as thou shalt think proper." Upon this the sultan delivered his son to the sage, who took him to his house, prepared for him a chamber, and wrote upon the walls in yellow and white what he wished him to learn. Then he carried to him what was necessary for him of carpets, food, and utensils, and left him alone in the apartment. ^ In this version the name of the sage does not appear, — See note 2, page 12. -' See note, page 2i. INTRODUCTION. 131 He did not permit any person to visit him but himself. Every third day the tutor entered, that he might teach him what was necessary from those books, the contents of which he had written on the walls, and depict for him fresh lessons; after which he placed round him provisions, locked the door upon him, and departed. Now it came to pass that the boy, when his mind was at a loss for amusement, studied the lessons written on the walls, which he learnt in a short time. When the tutor found his sense and under- standing on every point equal to what was necessary for him, he took him from the apartment, and in- structed him in horsemanship and archery; after which he sent to his father, and informed him that his son had learnt whatever was becoming his condi- tion in one year. The sultan rejoiced exceedingly, and informed his vazirs of it, who were in number seven. Then he wished to examine his son, and commanded the tutor to bring him witli him, in order that he might question him. The tutor consulted the horoscope of the youth, and foresaw that if he should speak before there should pass over his head seven days and nights, there would occur to him imminent danger of death. Upon this the sage addressed the prince, saying: "I have in- spected thy nativity, and if from this time thou speakest before seven days are expired, great hazard of life will befall thee." — The prince rephed: "What can ensure my safety?"— The tutor answered: " Repair 132 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. to thy father, but when he speaketh to thee, utter not a word." — The youth exclaimed : " I swear by God, that if thou hadst commanded me that I should not breathe, I would have obeyed thee, on account of what thou hast done for me of kindness and favour." The tutor rej^lied: "Go, and speak not, though they beat thee with scourges, for thou wilt recover of thy wounds, there will be in store for thee great glory, and thou shalt rule the kingdom after thy father." Then the prince said : " Remember thy speech to my father before thou lookedst at my nativity." The tutor replied: "What must be must be; further conversation will not profit. Nothing will occur but felicity to thee, whatever may become of me. Be firm, and trust in God; for whoever trusteth in God is secure." The prince departed, and repaired to his father, when the vazirs, with the nobles, officers of state, and the men of science met him on his way. They placed before him an herb, that he might describe its genus and properties; but he did not speak. They importuned him to answer, but he would not utter a word. Upon this the sultan was affected with grief, and sent for the tutor to punish him; when some of the assembly said, the sage had deserted his house in the night; some, that he had taken poison; and others contradicted this last assertion. There was much disputation among them, but still the prince IN TR OD UC TION. 1 3 3 would not speak.^ At length the assembly broke up, and there remained only the prince and his father. The sultan had a concubine, of beautiful person and very young, with the love of whom he was doatingly fascinated. She now entered, and saw the prince sitting near his father, like an affrighted fawn. She approached near, and said to the sultan: "I per- ceive thee, my lord, overcome with affliction;" when he related to her the conduct of his son. She replied: " I desire that thou wouldst commit him to my charge, for perhaps he will be affable to me and speak, and I shall discover the cause of his silence."- He replied: " Take him with thee." Upon which she led him by the hand, conducted him to her chamber, caressed him, and explained to him her wishes, clasped him to her bosom, and attemped to kiss him; but he rejected her advances. She exclaimed: " I am a young ^ In some of the versions, the assembled sages ascribe the prince's silence to the effect of a drug which his tutor had given him in order tha.t he might learn quickl3^ - In the Persian text (page 25), the damsel is secretly enam- oured of the prince, but had never found an opportunity of telling him her love. In the Greek, Hebrew, and old Castilian, she tells the king that the prince had been wont, from a boy, to confide in her, and proposes that she should take him with her, to induce him to speak. — Comparetti is in error when he says that in the present text the prince was, " according to the pre- vailing opinion, taken to the harem." We see that the assembly had "broken up "before the damsel came in, and asked leave to take the prince with her. 134 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. damsel, and thou a young man; I will be thine, and thou shalt be mine. Thy father is become super- annuated, must soon depart this life, when thou wilt govern the kingdom after him, and shalt espouse me; but if thou wilt not comply with my desires, I will effect thy destruction. Choose, then, one or the other — happiness or death." ^ ^ It is curious that in the other Arabic texts the prince is tempted by the damsel when he is little more than ten years old : and according to the present version, he could have been only nine, since he was eight when the sage undertook to teach him in two years, and "he had learnt whatever was becoming his condition in one year. " This absurdity is due to the copyist, who has suppressed a second period of unsuccessful teaching, which is also omitted in the old Castilian translation. In the Sindibad N'dma, although the precise age of the prince when he was tempted by the damsel is not mentioned, he must have been about twenty years old, since he was ten when first entrusted to tutors, under whom, "year after year," he made no progress, and he was afterwards six years in charge of Sindibad before he finally undertook to teach him in six months. In the Miskle Sandabar, the unsuccessful period is twelve years and a half, after he was seven years old, during which it is not said that his preceptors were changed ; he was, therefore, nineteen and a half when Sandabar took him in hand for six months, which together make up the twenty years, when danger to him was predicted at his birth. The Libto de los Engannos is less exact : although the danger to the prince was to happen twenty years after his birth, it actually occurred when he was fifteen and a half years old ; his education having been begun at seven, and unsuccess- fully conducted for eight years, after which Cendubete finally teaches him in six months. That there was a second unsuccessful INTROD UC TION. 1 3 5 When the prince heard this, he was exceedingly enraged against her, and thought within himself: "I will speedily repay thee for thy crimes, when after seven days I shall be able to speak." ^ The artful damsel, when she perceived his anger, hastened to contrive his ruin. She beat her cheeks, tore her garments, dishevelled her hair, and went before the sultan in that manner. He said: "What can have happened to thee?" — She exclaimed: "He, whom thou seest, hath done this, even thy own son, who has plotted the destruction of thy life, and feigned himself dumb. When I entered with him into my chamber, he declared to me his love; and when I refused him, he said : ' I cannot live without thee, and if thou dost not comply with my desires, I will kill thee, and murder my father.'"- period, during which Cendubete had charge of him, is e\ident from the question put to the sage when the eight years had passed without result : "Why have you not instructed the prince in those years that he has been with you?" ^ See note, page 26. - In the Biilaq and Calcutta printed Arabic texts, the intro- duction to the Seven Vazlrs is so much abridged and garbled as to be of no service whatever in showing the original form of this portion of the Book of Sindibad. Nothing is said of the un- successful attempts to instruct the prince, or of Sindibad's undertaking the task at the peril of his own life : the prince is entrusted to Sindibad at the age of five, and when he attains his tenth year he is taught horsemanship and warlike exercises ; one day Sindibad discovers the threatening aspect of the prince's horoscope, and — so far is he from concealing himself, as in all 136 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. When the sultan heard these words, his wrath was violent against his son, and he gave orders to have him put to death. He sent for his vazirs; but the tutor had informed them of the circumstances, and why the prince was prevented from speaking for seven days. Upon this the vazirs assembled together, and consulted, saying: "The sultan intends to put his son to death, but there may not be in him any fault, so that when he is dead, our master may repent, when repentance will not avail." — Then the prime vazir said: " Let us each take charge of him for a day during the seven days, till the whole are expired, and I will be responsible for you all at the conclusion of that period." The First Vazir having contrived thus, he repaired to the sultan, kissed the ground, and said: "O sultan, if there were to thee a thousand sons, far be it from thee the death of one of them ! Alas, then, when thou hast one only, with whom thou wast blessed after much anxiety and expectation, that thou shouldst other versions — goes at once before the king and acquaints him of the danger to his son's life should he break silence during the following seven days, and advises him to keep the prince in a secluded place, entertained with mirth and music until the seven days be past. The king accordingly entrusts the young prince to his favourite concubine, with orders to keep him with her for seven days. In the harem were forty apartments, in each of which were ten beautiful slave-girls, all skilled in music : here the prince passed one night ; and next day, apparently, he is tempted by the concubine. AHMED THE ORPHAN. I37 command his execution upon the bare assertion of a woman! (iod onlv knoweth wlietlier she hath spoken truly or accused liim falsely; for there are among the sex women artfully malicious." Story of Ahmed the Orphan. I HAVE heard, O my sovereign, that a certain sultan resolved to educate those unfortunate children who are sometimes abandoned on the highways. As he was passing one day, behold, he saw a male infant upon a heap of rubbish, who appeared beautiful as the moon at the full. He commanded his attendants to convey him to the palace; and they took him up, and committed him to nurses till he grew up, when they placed him at school. The boy learnt the Qur'an and the sciences and languages. When he had finished his education, the sultan committed to him the care of his treasury; and it came to pass that at length he did nothing but with his advice, and the youth attended in his private chambers. As he was in waiting one day, the sultan said: " Go to the apartment of Hayatu-'n-nufus,^ and bring me a medicine from her closet." The youth passed through the chamber of the concubine, and found her with a slave. He took up the medicine, but did not seem to attend to her actions, and returned ' Life of the Souls ; — Scott renders the name, Refresher of the Soul. THE SEVEN VAZIRS. with haste to the sultan. The name of this youth was Ahmed Yetim.^ Then the sultan said: "What has happened to thee, that I perceive thy colour changed?" — Ahmed replied: "My lord, because I came with hurry and precipitation;" but he did not inform the sultan of what he had discovered. The concubine Hayatu-'n-nufils, being convinced that Ahmed must have beheld herself and her para- mour, hastily contrived a scheme against him. She scarred her face, and rent her garments. AVhen the sultan entered, and found her in that situation, he said: "What is thy condition?" — She exclaimed: " From him who is the offspring of adultery no good can proceed." — The sultan, understanding her mean- ing, replied: "Conceal this affair, and within this hour I will bring thee his head." He departed from her, filled with indignation, and ascended his throne. Ahmed attended, according to custom, but did not suspect what was plotted against him. The sultan beckoned to one of his slaves, and said privately to him: "Go to the house of such a person, and remain there. When any one shall say unto thee: 'Thus saith the sultan. Do that which thou wast commanded to execute,' strike off his head, place it in this basket, and fasten over it the cover. ^\'hen I shall send to thee a messenger who will say : ' Hast thou performed ^ Orphan Ahmed; — according to Scott, The Good Orphan, thus mis-translating the name Ahmed. AHMED THE ORPHAN. 139 the business?' commit to him the basket." The slave rephed: "To hear is to obey," and retired. Soon after, the sultan called to Ahmed Yetim, and said: " Hasten to a certain house, and say unto such a slave, 'Execute the commands of the sultan.'" Ahmed departed, but on the way he saw the man who had been criminal with the concubine, with a number of other slaves, sitting down, drinking and feasting. As they saw Ahmed approaching, they stood up; and the guilty slave thought that if he could detain him from the business of the sultan, he might procure his death. He stopped him, paid obeisance to him, and entreated that he would sit down with them a little while. But Ahmed said: " The sultan hath sent me upon business to a certain house, and I cannot stay." Upon this the guilty slave replied: "I will perform the commission." Ahmed answered: "If so, hasten, and say to a slave whom thou wilt find there, that he must execute the orders of the sultan." The slave said: "To hear is to obey," and departed. Ahmed sat down with the rest, while the other proceeded to the house, and said to the person in waiting: "Thus saith the sultan, 'Complete thy orders.'" He replied: "Most readily," and drawing his scimitar, struck off the head of the guilty slave, washed it from the blood, placed it in the basket, tied the cover on it, and sat down. When Ahmed had waited some time for the return T40 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. of his messenger, he took leave of his company, went to the house, and said to the slave in waiting: "Hast thou performed thy orders?" He replied: "Yes," and committed the basket to Ahmed, who took it up, and went with it to the sultan ; but he did not suspect what was within the basket, nor did curiosity lead him to open it. When the sultan saw him, he said: "Ahmed, I sent thee upon a commission, but thou hast entrusted it to another." He replied: "My lord, it is true." The sultan exclaimed: "Hast thou seen what is contained in this basket?" Ahmed answered: "No; I swear by thy head, I do not know what is within it, nor have I opened it." The king was astonished, and said: "Take off the covering." He lifted it up, and, behold ! in it was the head of the slave who had done evil with Hayatu-'n-nufus. The sultan exclaimed : " I cannot suppose, Ahmed, that it should be concealed from thee, whether or not this slaughtered man was guilty of a crime which ren- dered him worthy of death." Ahmed replied: " Know, my lord, when thou didst send me for the medicine to the chamber of Hayatu-'n-nufus, I found this slave in her embraces. I took up the medicine, but did not disclose what I had beheld. "When despatched to the house, I found on the way this guilty slave, sitting with his fellows eating and drinking. He stood up, and entreated me to stay among them. I replied: ' The sultan hath sent me to execute a commission.' THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. 141 Upon which he said : ' Sit down — I will perform this business,' and departed." He then related the other circumstances, until he was entrusted with the basket. Then the sultan exclaimed: "O Ahmed! none is discerning but God;" related to him the behaviour of the damsel, and what she had accused him of, and said: "I resign her unto thee." Ahmed replied: "I cannot repay the bounties of the sultan with ingrati- tude; — I can have no concern with her." When the sultan heard these words, he commanded her to be put to death. [24] "This, O sultan," continued the vazir, "is only one instance of the deceitfulness of women. Trust not to their declarations, for their artful malice is great. Another example of their arts hath reached me." Story of the Merchant, his Wife, and the Parrot. There was a merchant, who traded largely, and tra- velled much abroad; he had a wife whom he loved, and to her he was constant.^ A journey became necessary for him, and he bought for a hundred dinars a parrot, that could speak like a human being, that it might inform him of what passed in the house. ^ Vatsyayana, in his Kmna Sutra, says that a man who is much given to travelling does not deserve to be married. 142 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Before he departed upon his journey, he committed to the parrot the charge of watching his wife's conduct. When he was gone, the lady sent to her lover, who was a soldier ;i and he came, and abode with her during the time of her husband's absence. The parrot observed all that was done. On the merchant's return, he called for the bird, and asked him what had passed, and was informed of his wife's misconduct. When the merchant heard this intelligence, he was enraged against his wife, beat her severely, and kept himself from her. The wife supposed that her neighbours had accused her; but they declared, upon oath, that they had not spoken to him. Then she said: "None can have informed him but the parrot." Upon a certain night, the merchant went to visit a friend. Then the wife took a coarse cloth, and put it upon the parrot's cage, and placed over it, on the floor above, the grinding-stones; after which she ordered her slave-girls to grind, throw water over the cloth, and raise a great wind with a fan. Then she took a looking- glass, and made it dazzle in the light of the lamp, by a quick motion. The bird (being in the dark) supposed that the noise of the grinding was thunder; the gleams from the mirror, lightning; the blasts from the fan, wind; and the water, hard rain.- In the morning, when the ' A young Turk, according lo the Calcutta text. - In the Turkish version of this story, as found in the Forty Vaztrs, a piece of bullock's hide is stretched over the cage, and THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. I43 merchant returned to his house, the parrot said : " How fared my lord last night, during the wind, the rain, and the dreadful lightning?" The merchant exclaimed: "Villain, thou liest; for I did not see any- thing of it;" and the parrot replied: "I only tell thee what I experienced." The merchant now disbelieved the bird, and put confidence in his wife. He went to her, and sought to be reconciled, but she said: "I will not be recon- ciled, unless you destroy the mischief-making parrot, who belied me." He killed the bird, and after that remained some time happy with his wife. At length the neighbours informed him of her crimes, when he concealed himself, and detected the soldier with her. The fidelity of the parrot was apparent, but the mer- chant repented of putting him to death, when repent- ance would not avail him. He divorced his wife, and took an oath never to marry. ^ " I have thus informed thee, O sultan," added the vazir, " of the artfulness of women, and proved that rashness produces only fruitless remorse." — The sultan, upon this, refrained from the execution of his son. \\'hen night set in, the Damsel came to the sultan, and said: "Why hast thou delayed doing me justice? beat from time to time to imitate thunder ; water is sprinkled on the bird through a sieve ; and a mirror flashed before it now and again. 1 See note, page 34; and Appendix, No. 3. 144 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Hast thou not heard that sovereigns should be obeyed in whatever they command, and that an order not enforced is a sign of weakness ? Every one knows what must follow. Do me justice, then, upon thy son, or it will happen to you both, as it happened to the fuller and his son." — Then the king said: " What befell the fuller and his son? " She replied: Story of the Fuller and his Son. Know, O sultan, that there was a fuller who went daily to wash his cloths on the bank of a river, and with him his son, who used to venture far into the water and swim ; which his father forbade, but he would not be prevented. On a certain day, the youth went into a deep part, and his arms became cramped. When the father beheld his situation, he threw himself into the river, hoping to save him; but the youth hung upon his legs, and they were both drowned. [5] " Do me justice, then, upon thy son. Thy vazirs pre- tend that the art of our sex is greater than that of men; but the fact is the contrary, as you will see from the Story of the Sultan and tJu Vazirs Wife. It has been related to me, my lord, that there was a certain sultan much addicted to the love of women, of violent passions. Being one day upon the terrace of his palace, he saw a lady upon the platform of her THE LION'S TRACK. T45 house, beautiful and elegant; his soul desired her, and he was told that she was the wife of his vazir. Upon this he sent for the minister, and despatched him on a distant expedition, with orders not to return till he had executed his commission. The vazIr attended to his sovereign's commands, and departed. When the sultan knew of his departure, he was im- patient to see the lady, and repaired to her house. She received him standing, and kissed the ground before him; but she was virtuous, and had no inclina- tion to immodesty. She then said: "Why, O my lord, is this auspicious visit?" He replied: "From the excess of my love and passion for thee." Upon which she kissed the ground, and said : " It is not befitting that I should be thy partner; my heart has never aspired to such an honour." Then the sultan extended his hands upon her, and tempted her; when she cried: "My lord, this must never be." Observing that he was enraged at her refusal, she dissembled, and said: "Wait, O my lord, until I have prepared a supper, which when thou hast partaken of, I shall be honoured with thy commands." She then seated the sultan upon the sofa of her husband, and brought him a book from which the vazir was used to read to her. In it were written admonitions and warnings against adultery, and com- mands to his wife not to admit any one within doors without his orders. On the perusal of it, the sultan's mind was diverted from the pursuit of his guilty passion. K 146 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. At length the lady placed a supper before him, con- sisting of ninety and nine dishes ; when the sultan ate a mouthful from every dish. Each was of a different colour, but all of the same sort of food. Then he said to her: "How is this?" — She rephed: " My lord, I have set a parable before thee. In thy palace are ninety and nine concubines, of different stature and comijlexion; who, however, form but one kind of food." The sultan was confounded, and did not importune her. Rising up, he went to perform his ablutions, but left his ring under a cushion of the sofa; and on his return to the palace, forgot to take it with him.^ ^^'hen the vazir returned from his journey, and had visited the sultan, he repaired to his own house, and sat down upon the sofa; and, behold! under the cushion he discovered the sultan's ring, which he knew. Becoming jealous of his wife, he was enraged against her, and secluded himself from her for a whole year; during which he did not go near, nor even inquire after her. When the coolness of her husband became intolerable, the lady complained to her father, and informed him of his neglect of her for a whole year; upon which the father repaired to the sultan, when the vazir was present, and said: " May God preserve the sultan ! I had an elegant garden, which was formed by my own hand, and I ^ See page 81, and note. THE LION'S TRACK. 147 watered it until it was the season of its fruits. Then I presented it to thy vazir, and he ate of its produc- tions until he was satiated, when he deserted and neglected it; and it was spoiled, and reptiles over-ran it; — its flowers were injured, and its condition was changed." The sultan said to the vazir: "How sayest thou?" The vazir replied : " He speaketh the truth in what he hath related. But one day, when I entered the garden, I saw the track of a lion in it; my mind was alarmed, and I refrained from visiting it." On hearing this parable, the sultan understood it, recollected that he had forgotten his ring in the house of the vazir, and knew that by it was meant the track of the lion. He then said: "It is true, O vazir, that the lion did enter without the consent of the owner's wife; but the lion did not compel her to commit evil. She is a virtuous woman, and of chaste desires." Then the vazir said: "To hear is to obey;" and he was now convinced that the sultan had not compelled her to dishonour. He returned to his wife, who related to him all that had passed; and he relied upon her truth, her honour, and her fidelity. "Had she been vicious," continued the Damsel, "she would have com])lied with the sultan, when he disclosed his wishes; but know, my lord, that men are more deceitful than women." [17] 148 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Next morning the sultan commanded the execution of his son; when the Second Vazir entered, and, kissing the ground, said: "Be not rash in executing thy son. Thou wast not blessed with him till after despairing of issue, and could scarcely credit his existence. He may yet prove to thee the preserver of thy kingdom, and a guardian of thy memory. Be patient, then, my lord, until he shall find a proper opportunity to speak for himself If thou puttest him to death, thou wilt repent when repentance will not avail. I have heard, O sultan, much of the female sex, of their arts and their stratagems, especially in the Story of the Officer and the MercJianfs Wife. There was an officer belonging to the body-guard of his prince, who admired a merchant's wife, and was passionately beloved by her. On a certain day he sent his slave to see whether her husband was at home or absent. When the slave came, not finding her husband, he would have returned ; but the lady, on seeing him, would not let him go. While they were conversing, the officer came up, and she took the slave and locked him in an inner chamber. And, while the officer was with her, sud- denly her husband knocked at the door. Upon this the lady said to the officer, who was much alarmed: " Draw thy scimitar, and go down to the entry, abuse me, and revile me, and say: ' He certainly is with thee, THE DOUBLE INFIDELITY. 149 and thou hast concealed him.' When my husband enters, go out, and pursue thy way." Her husband, on coming in, saw the of=ficer standing in the entry, with a drawn sword in liis hand, exclaim- ing: "Thou wretch! thou hast hidden the lad near thee," and he then hastened home. The merchant said to his wife: "What has been the matter?" She replied: "Thou hast this day saved an unfortunate Mussulman from being murdered." He asked her how that was, and she replied: "I was sitting, thinking upon thee, when a young lad rushed in, and cried: ' Save me from death, and God will save thee from the fire! An officer would murder me without a fault.' Then I took him, and concealed him in my chamber; after which the officer entered, and began to abuse me, and would have killed me, saying, ' He is with thee.' God be praised that you came in, or I should have been a corpse."— Her husband said: " God preserve thee from the fire, for what thou hast done — I doubt not but he will." Then she took the lad from the chamber, and he pretended to weep, and thanked her for her kind- ness; but the husband did not guess the least of the disgrace that had befallen his head from his wife's intrigues. [4] " This, O sultan, is only one instance of the art of women; alas, that thou shouldst give credit to their accusations!" 15° THE SEVEN VAZIRS. When the third night was arrived, the Damsel entered, and kissing the ground, wept, and said: "Wilt thou not, my lord, do me justice upon thy son? And wilt thou not refrain from attending to the stories of thy vazirs? They are full of wickedness. I have heard, O sultan, of a vazir who would have murdered the son of his master." He inquired: "In what manner?" She replied: Story of the Prince and the GJiul} There was a certain sultan who had a son, whom he loved with ardent affection. The prince one day begged permission of his father to hunt; upon which the sultan ordered preparations, commanded his vazir to attend him, and sent with him slaves, domestics, and troops. They advanced towards the chase, and passed through a verdant plain, having groves and rivulets, among which the antelopes sported. The prince pursued and ran down much game of various kinds, and remained long, diverting himself with the sport, in great spirits and enjoyment. As he was returning homewards, there bounded across the plain an antelope, brilliant as the sun shining in a serene sky; and the vazir said: "Let us pursue this deer, for my heart longs to take her." When the prince heard this, he followed her; and the attendants would have accompanied him, but the vazir ^ .See note 2, page 55. \ THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. 151 forbade them. The antelope did not cease to gain ground, nor the prince to pursue her, till the evening overshadowed, when she disappeared, and darkness came on. The prince would have returned, but could not find his path, and he fainted with terror; nor could he move from the thirsty desert until the morning. He then prayed to God for deliverance, and travelled on, oppressed with hunger, until mid-day; when, lo! he came to a ruined town, in which owls and ravens had their abodes. While he stopped, astonished at their screamings, a female voice struck his ear, and he be- held a beautiful girl sitting under one of the mould- ering walls, weeping bitterly. He addressed her, and said: "Why dost thou lament, and who art thou?" She replied : " Know that I am the daughter of a certain sultan of the north. My father espoused me to the son of my uncle, and detached troops to escort me to him, and we began our journey. When we arrived here, I fell from my carriage, as you see, and my attendants went on, and left me, thinking I was still upon the camel. ^ I have remained here three 1 In Arabia, Persia, and other Eastern countries women and children generally travel in litters, of more or less elegant con- struction according to their rank, secured on the backs of camels and elephants. The pre-Islamite Arabian poet Labid, in his celebrated Mn'allaqa, thus describes the litters which bore away his mistress and her damsels (Lyall's translation) : "The camel-litters of the tribe stirred thy longmg, what time they moved away 152 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. days, famishing and thirsty, and was despairing of hfe, when I saw thee." — The prince mounted her behind him, and said: "Comfort thy heart, and dry thine eyes, and say, God be praised, for thy dehverance from this desert." They now proceeded, and besought assistance from the Almighty.^ When they had journeyed some time, they reached a city, ruinous hke the first, and the damsel said to him : " Remain here, while I retire a little; I will soon return." The prince helped her down, and waited with his horse, when, behold! the ghiil (for such was the pretended damsel) cried to two others, saying: "I have brought a prey to feast upon." 2 When the prince heard this, his heart was chilled. The ghul came out, and found him pale and trembling. She said: "Prince, why do I behold thy colour changed?" He answered: " I was reflecting on the cause of my sorrows." She exclaimed: "Seek a remedy for them in the treasures of thy father." He replied: "They are not to be remedied by treasure or And crept into the litters hung with cotton, as the wooden framework creaked — The litters hung all around, over their frame of wood, with hangings, thin veils, and pictured curtains of wool. " An interesting account of the various kinds of litters used in India and Persia is cited by Garcin de Tassy in a note to his translation of the romance oi Kamariipa, chap, x.xiii. ^ That is, the prince besought, etc. ' See page 55, and note I. THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. IS3 hoards." She said: "Remedy them by your armies and troops." He rephed: "They are not to be re- medied by them." She continued: "Ask help of the God of power and might; for ye pretend that ye have in the heavens a God who, when ye call upon him, will be gracious, and that he is absolute over all things." The prince rephed: " It is true; and we have no other help but him." Then he lifted up his face towards heaven, and said: "O Lord, I humbly beseech thee, and implore aid from thee in this crisis, which grieveth and afflicteth me;"^ at the same time catching the pretended princess in his arms. Scarcely had he concluded his prayer, when an angel descended from the sky, with a sword of flame, and smote her with it, and destroyed her.^ For this miracle may the Almighty be glorified ! The prince after this returned safely to the capital of his father. [7] " All this danger," continued the damsel, " occurred from the schemes of the vazir; and I inform thee, O sultan, that thy vazirs are also treacherous. Be, then, watchful of their arts." — Upon this the sultan gave orders for the execution of his son. On the next day the Third Vazir entered, kissed the ground before the sultan, and said : " Know, O 1 See note 3, page 55. - According to the Greek and Syriac texts, and also the old Castilian translation, when the prince had uttered a prayer she fell powerless on the ground. 154 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. sultan, I would advise thee candidly, and am faithful to thyself and thy son. Be not violent against thy child, the light of thine eyes. It is possible the damsel's desire of his death may proceed from malice; and I have heard that two great tribes were destroyed for the sake of a drop of honey." The sultan inquired, upon what occasion, and the vazir said: Story of the Drop of Honey. It has been related to me that there was a hunter, who chased every species of wild animals. One day in his excursion to the mountains, he found a hollow^ in the rocks, full of honey, with which he filled a vessel he had with him, and returned to the city. He chanced to stop at the door of an oil-merchant, when a httle of the honey happening to drop, the mer- chant's cat licked it up, and was killed by the hunter's dog.^ Upon this, the merchant killed the dog, at which the hunter was enraged, and having wounded the merchant, went to his quarter, and raised his ^ In other versions, some flies alight upon the spilled honey, a bird attacks the flies, the grocer's cat kills the bird, the hunter's dog worries the cat — thus bearing some resemblance to our accumulative nursery rhymes of "The House that Jack Built" and "The Old Woman and the Crooked Sixpence," which appear to find their indirect original, strange to say, in an allegorical hymn in the Talmud. — In the Syriac text, a bee settles on the honey, a weasel seizes the bee, a dog attacks the weasel, and so on. THE WOMAN AND THE RICE-SELLER. 155 friends. The merchant also raised his friends, and when the parties met, they fought till they were all destroyed — for the sake of a drop of honey. [25] [I have also heard, continued the third vazir, among instances of female artifice, the Story of the ]Vonian and the Rice-Seller.^ A MAN one day gave his wife a dirham- to buy rice, and she went to the shop of the rice-seller, and said to him : " Give me rice for this dirham." When he saw that she was possessed of beauty and an elegant form, he began cajoling her, and said to her: "Rice is not good unless with sugar; come within, and I will give thee some." The woman consented, and the dealer ordered his slave to measure a quantity of rice and sugar, but accompanied the order with a private sign, which the youth understood ; and while his master was engaged with the woman, he iiUed her towel with earth and stones. After this the woman took the towel, and went off, thinking that it contained sugar and rice; and when she arrived at her house she placed it before her husband, and went to fetch the caldron. In the mefintime her husband opened the towel, and dis- ^ Omitted by Scott, "it being too indelicate for translation." After suppressing a few words of the original, the story, as follows, is certainly not more free than any of those he has translated. — See also the story in the Persian text, page 46. - About sixpence of our money. IS6 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. covered the earth and the stones, and when she came back he said to her: "Did I tell thee that we had a house to build, that thou hast brought earth and stones?" She then perceived that the dealer had tricked her, and said : " O my husband, see what I have done in my confusion: I went for the sieve, and have brought the caldron! For the dirham you gave me dropped from my hand in the market-place,^ and I was ashamed before the people to look around for it; so I brought back earth and stones, that you might sift them." The husband then arose, and took the sieve, and he sat down sifting the earth until his face and his beard were covered with dust; and the poor man knew not what had happened to him.] On the fourth night the Damsel entered to the sultan, kissed the ground before him, and said: "My lord, you have rejected my cause, delayed my claims, and will not do me justice upon thy son. But God will assist me, as he assisted the son of a certain sultan against his father's vazir." The sultan inquired in what manner that happened, and she related the Story of the Transformed Prince. There was a sultan, who had an only son, whom he betrothed to the daughter of a great monarch. She was very beautiful, and passionately beloved by the 1 See note i, page 49. THE CHANGED SEX. 157 son of her uncle; but her father would not consent to give her to him in marriage, on account of his prior engagement to the sultan. When the young man found that his uncle had affianced her to another, he was exceedingly afflicted, and had no other resource but to send rich presents to the vazir of the intended bridegroom's father, and entreat him that he would deceive the prince by some stratagem, so that the match might be broken off. The vazir accepted the bribe, and promised compliance. The father of the princess, after some time, wrote to the sultan, requesting that he would send his son, to celebrate the marriage at his court; after which he might return home with his bride. The sultan consented, and despatched the prince under care of his vazir, with attendants and slaves, and an escort of a thousand horse; he also sent by him a rich present of camels, and horses, and tents, and valuable curiosities. The vazir departed with the prince, but resolved to betray him, on account of the bribes he had received from the cousin of the princess. At length they entered a desert, where the vazir bethought himself of a fountain, named the White Fountain, of which but few persons knew the properties; these were, that if a man drank of the water, he became a woman; and if a woman drank of it, she became a man. The vazir encamped at some distance from it, and invited the prince to ride out with him; when he mounted, 158 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. but did not suspect what the vazir had devised. They did not cease riding in the wilderness till sunset, when the prince complained that he was overcome with thirst, and unable to converse from the parching of his mouth. The vazir then brought him to the foun- tain, and said: " Dismount, and drink." The prince alighted from his horse, and drank, when lo! he instantly became a woman. On per- ceiving his condition, he wept aloud, and was over- come with shame, and fainted. On his recovery, the vazir came up to him with pretended condolements, and said: "What has befallen thee? And whence is this sorrow?" The prince having related what had occurred to him, the vazir said: "Thy enemies must have done this. A great misfortune and a heavy calamity have certainly come upon thee; for how can the object of our journey be performed when thou art thyself become a bride? I would advise that we return to thy father, and inform him of what has happened." The prince replied: "I swear by the Almighty, that I will not return, until he shall remove from me this affliction, though I should die under it." — The vazir then returned to his troops, and left the prince; who walked onwards, not knowing whither he should proceed. On the way there met him a horseman, beautiful as the full moon,^ who saluted him, and said: "Lady, 1 In the Rich MS. of the looi N. (Brit, Mus.), the treacherous vazir returns to the king, and informs him of what had happened THE CHANGED SEX. 159 who art thou, and why behold I thee alone in this frightful desert ? For I perceive upon thee the marks of distinction, and that thou art sorrowful and afflicted." When the prince heard these kind express- ions from the horseman, he put confidence in him, and related what had befallen him. The cavalier said: "Hast thou drank of the White Fountain.?" He answered: "Yes;" and the other rejoined: "Comfort thyself, and dry thine eyes, for I will attempt thy delivery." The prince then fell at his feet, and would have kissed them, but he forbade him; when the prince said: "I conjure thee by Allah, tell me, how can relief come to me through thee?" He replied: " I am a jinni, but will not injure thee." They travelled all night, and at dawn reached a verdant plain, abounding in trees and rivulets, and upon it lofty edifices; and there they dismounted, and entered one of the palaces. The jinni welcomed him, and they remained all day feasting in mirth and gladness. At night the jinni mounted his horse, and taking the prince behind him, travelled through the dark until daylight, when, lo! they beheld a black to the prince; and the king, sorely stricken with grief, endeavours in vain to ascertain the cause of his son's misfortune from masters of the occult sciences. — The prince remained three days and three nights, and neither ate nor drank, and his horse was tied, pastur- ing in the valley, and he weeping over his fate. But when the fourth day came, behold, a yellow horseman, riding on a yellow horse, and on his head a yellow diadem, etc. — The Biilaq and Calcutta texts are to the same purpose. l6o THE SEVEN VAZIRS. plain, frightful and gloomy, which might be compared to the confines of hell. The prince inquired the name of the country, and the jinni replied: "This country is called the Black Region, and is governed by a prince of the jinn, without whose permission no one dare enter it. Remain here, while I ask for leave, and return." The prince remained a httle while, when the jinni appeared, and conducted him onwards; and they did not stop till they came to a stream of water flowing from a rock, of which the jinni commanded him to drink. He dismounted, and drank, and his sex returned to him as before. The prince now praised God, and prayed, and he thanked the jinni and kissed his hands, and inquired the name of the well. The jinni replied: "This is the Fountain of Women. If a woman drink of it she becomes a man, by the decree of God. Praise the Lord, then, O my brother, for thy welfare and de- liverance." They travelled the remainder of the day, till they arrived at the dwelling of the jinni, where the prince remained with him in mirth and festivity all that night and the following day; in the evening of which the jinni said: "Dost thou wish to spend this night with thy bride?" The prince replied: "Certainly; but how, my lord, can I effect it?" The jinni then called to one of his attendants, whose name was Jazur, and said: "Take this youth upon thy back, and do not descend anywhere but upon the terrace THE CHANGED SEX. l6l of his father-in-law's palace, near the apartment of his bride." Jazur repHed: "To hear is to obey." When a third of the night remained, Jazur appeared. He was an 'Ifrit of monstrous size, so that the prince was alarmed; but the jinni said: "He will not injure thee; fear him not." He then embraced the prince, took leave, and mounting him upon the back of the 'Ifrit, said: "Bind something over thine eyes." The prince having done so, the Tfrit soared with him between heaven and earth; but he perceived no motion, till he was set down on the terrace of his father-in-law's palace, when the Tfrit disappeared. The prince slept till near daylight, when his spirits revived, and he descended towards the apartments. The female attendants met him, and saluted him, and conducted him to the sultan, who knew him, and stood up and embraced him, and welcoming him, said: "My son, they usually bring the bridegroom by the gate, but thou comest from the terrace; truly I am astonished at thy proceedings." The prince answered: " If that seems strange, I have still more wonderful events to detail;" and he then related his adventures from first to last, at which the sultan was astonished, and praised God for his deliverance. The nuptial ceremonies were now commenced, and when the rites were concluded the prince was admitted to his bride, and remained with her a whole month. He then requested leave to return home ; upon which his father-in-law presented him with rich gifts, and 1 62 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. furnished him with an escort. The cousin of the princess died of disappointment. The prince arrived with his bride at the capital of his father in safety; and the sultan rejoiced with exceeding great joy, after being in despair for his son. [26] "I hope," said the Damsel, "that C.od will also revenge me upon thy vazirs and upon thy son." — The sultan replied: "I will do thee justice immediately," and issued orders for the execution of the prince. On the fourth day the P'ourth Vazir came to the sultan, kissed the ground before him, and said: " O sultan, kill not thy son, or thou wilt reperit when repentance will not profit thee. A wise man will not act until he hath considered the consequences. I have heard the following anecdote."^ [The vazir then relates, as an example of the artifice and duplicity of women, the] Story of the Old Woman and the She-Dog. There was a certain merchant's son, who had a hand- some wife, and it happened that a libertine, accidentally 1 This little prefatory address of the fourth vazir does not refer to the story which follows in Scott's translation, but to the tale of The Bathman, which he has very properly suppressed, and it should also have been omitted. — See note, page 61. THE OLD WOMAN AND THE SHE-DOG. 163 beholding her, fell in love with her. While the husband was absent on a journey of business, the youth went to an old woman of the neighbourhood, who was on inti- mate terms with the wife, and disclosed to her his passion, offering her ten dinars^ for her assistance. The cunning old woman went several times to visit the merchant's wife, and always took with her a little she-dog. One day she contrived the following strata- gem. She took flour and minced meat, and kneaded them into a cake, with a good deal of pepper. Then she forced the cake down the animal's throat, and when the pepper began to heat her stomach, her eyes became wet, as if with tears. The merchant's wife, observing this, said to the old woman : " My good mother, this dog daily follows you, and seems as if she wept. What can be the cause?" The old woman replied: "My dear mistress, the circumstance is won- derful; for she was formerly a beautiful girl, straight as the letter allf, and made the sun ashamed by her superior radiance. A Jewish sorcerer fell in love with her, whom she refused; and when he despaired of obtaining her, he was enraged, and by magic transformed her into a she-dog, as thou seest. She was a friend of mine; she loved me, and I loved her; so that, in her new form, she took to following me wherever I went, for I have always fed her, and taken care of her, on account of our friendship. She weeps often when reflecting on her unfortunate condition." ^ A gold dinar is equivalent to about ten shillings. 1 64 THE SEVEN VAZ'lRS. A\'hen the merchant's wife heard this, she trembled for herself, and said : " A certain man hath professed love to me, and I did not intend to gratify his criminal passion. But thou hast terrified me with the story of this unhappy damsel, so that I am alarmed lest the man should transform me in like manner." — " My dear daughter," said the wicked old woman, " I am your true friend, and advise you that if any man makes love to you not to refuse him." The wife then said: "How shall I find out my lover?" — "For the sake of thy peace," replied the old wretch, " for the love I bear thee, and for fear lest thou shouldst also be transformed, I will go and seek him." She then went out, rejoicing that she had gained her ends, and sought the young man, but did not find him at home. So she said to herself: " I will not let this day })ass, however, without gaining a reward for my trouble. 1 will introduce some one else to her, and obtain from him a second present." She then walked through the streets in search of a proj^er man ; when behold I she met the husband just returning from his journey, whom she did not know. She went u^) to him, and saluted him, and said: "Hast thou any objection to a good supper and a handsome mistress?" He replied: "I am ready;" upon which she took him by the hand, and leading him to his own house, desired him to wait at the door. When the man reached his own dwelling, jealousy overcame him, and the world became dark to his eyes. THE Or.n WOMAN AND THE SHE-DOG. 165 The old woman went to the wife, to inform her of the coming of her lover; whom, when she saw him from the window, she knew, and exclaimed: "Why, mother, thou hast brought my husband!" The old woman, hearing this, rei)lied: "There remains nothing now but to deceive him." The wife took the hint, and said: " I will meet him, and abuse him for his intrigues, and will say, ' I sent this old woman as a spy upon thee.' " She then began to exclaim against the infidelity of her husband, took a sheet of paper, and descended the staircase, and said to him : " Thou shameless man, there was a promise of constancy between us, and I swore unto thee that I would not love another. Luckily, however, I suspected thy falsehood, and when I knew thou wast returning from thy journey, sent this old woman to watch thee, that I might discover thy proceedings, and whether thou wast faithful to thy agreement or not. It is now clear that thou fre- quentest the dwellings of courtesans, and I have been deceived. But since I know thy falsehood, there can be no cordiality between us; therefore write me a divorce, for I can no longer love thee." The husband, on hearing this, was alarmed, and remained for a time in astonishment. He took a solemn oath that he had not been unfaithful to her, and had not been guilty of what she had accused him. He did not cease to soothe her till she was somewhat pacified, when the old woman interfered, and effected a reconciliation between them, for which kindness 1 66 THE SEVEN VAZ'iRS. she was handsomely rewarded. The unfortunate hus- band Httle suspected the disgrace he had so narrowly escaped, [ii] "This, O sultan," said the vazir, "is only one in- stance of the art and deceit of women." — The sultan then countermanded the execution of his son. On the fifth evening the Damsel came to the sultan, holding a cup of poison in her hand, and said : " If thou wilt not do me justice upon thy son, I will drink this poison, and my crime will rest upon thy shoulders. Thy vazirs say that women are cunning and deceitful, but there is no creature in the universe more crafty than man. For instance : Story of the Goldsmith and the Singing Giid} I HAVE heard that a goldsmith,- who was passionately fond of women, one day entered a friend's house, and saw upon the wall of an apartment the portrait of a beautiful girl, with which he became enraptured; and love so overcame his heart that his friends said to him: "Thou foolish man, how couldst thou think of loving a figure depicted on a wall, of the original of which thou hast never heard or seen?" He replied: ^ In Scott's translation, the hero of this story is a painter, but a goldsmith, or a jeweller, in four other Arabic texts. - In a city of Persia, according to the Calcutta and Bulaq texts. THE GOLDSMITH AND THE SIXCING GIRL. 167 " A painter could not have drawn this portrait unless he had seen the original." One of his friends ob- served, that perhaps the painter might have formed it merely from his imagination. He answered: " I hope from heaven comfort and relief; but what you say cannot be proved except by the painter." They then told him that he lived in a certain town; and the young man wrote to inquire whether he had seen the original of the picture he had painted, or had drawn it from fancy. The answer was that the portrait was that of a singing-girl belonging to a vazir of Ispahan.^ Encouraged by this intelligence, the young man made preparations for a journey, and having departed, travelled night and day until he reached the city, where he took up his abode. In a few days he made acquaintance with an apothe- cary, and became intimate with him. Talking upon various subjects, at length they conversed regarding the sultan of Ispahan and his disposition; when the ajiothecary said: "Our sovereign bears inveterate hatred to all practitioners of magic, and if they fall into his hands, he casts them into a deep cave without the city, where they die of hunger and thirst." Next they conversed about the famous singing-girl of the vazir, and the young man learned that she was still with him. The young goldsmith now began to plan his strata- gems. On the first moonlight night he disguised ^ Of Kashmir, according to four other texts, t68 the seven vazirs. himself as a robber, and repairing to the palace of the vazir, fixed a ladder of ropes, by which he gained the terrace, from whence he descended into the court; when lo! a light gleamed from one of the apartments. He entered it, and beheld a throne of ivory, inlaid with gold, on which reposed a lady bright as the sun in a serene sky. At her head and feet were placed lamps, the splendour of which her countenance outshone. He approached, and gazed upon her, and saw that she was the object of his desires. Near the pillow was a rich veil, embroidered with pearls and precious stones. He drew a knife from his girdle, and wounded her slightly on the palm of her hand. The pain awakened the lad)', but she did not scream from alarm, believing him to be only a robber in search of plunder; she said: "Take this embroidered veil, but do not injure me." He took the veil, and departed by the same way that he had entered. ^ When daylight appeared, he disguised himself in white vestments, like a holy pilgrim; visited the sultan, and having saluted him, and the sultan having returned the salutation, he thus addressed him : " O sultan, I am a pilgrim devoted to religion, from the country of Khurasan, and have repaired to thy presence because of the report of thy virtues and thy justice to thy subjects, intending to remain under the shade of thy protection. I reached thy capital at the close of day, ^ In some Arabic versions he wounds her in the shoulder, and takes away part of her ornaments. THE GOLDSMITH AND THE SINGING GIRL. 169 when the gates were shut. Then I lay down to repose, and was in slumber, when behold ! four women issued from a grove, one mounted upon a hytena, another uijon a ram, a third U])on a black she-dog, and the fourth upon a leopard. \\'hen I saw them, I knew they must be sorceresses. One of them having ap- proached me, began to kirk me with her feet, and to strike me with a whip, which appeared like a flame of fire. I then repeated the names of God, and struck at her hand with my knife, which wounded her, but she escaped from me. There dropped from her this veil, which I took up, and found it embroidered with valuable jewels; but I have no occasion for them, for I have given up the world." Having thus spoken, he laid the veil at the sultan's feet, and departed. On examining the veil, the sultan recognised it as one which he had presented to his vazn-, of whom he demanded: "Did 1 not bestow upon thee this veil?" The vazir replied: ''You did, my lord; and I gave it to a favourite singing-girl of my own." — " Let her be sent for immediately," exclaimed the sultan; "for she is a wicked sorceress." The vazir went to his palace, and brought the girl before the sultan, who, on seeing the slight wound on her hand, was convinced of the pretended pilgrim's assertion, and commanded her to be cast into the cave of sorcerers. When the goldsmith found that his stratagem had succeeded, and that the girl was thrown into the cave, he took a purse of a thousand dinars, and went to the 170 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. keeper of the cave, and said to him: "Accept this purse, and hsten to my story." After relating his adventures, the goldsmith said: "This poor girl is innocent, and I am the person who has plunged her into misfortune. If thou wilt release her, it will be a merciful action, and I will convey her privately to my own country. Should she remain here, she will soon be among the number of the dead. Pity, then, her condition and my own, and repay thy generosity with this purse." The keeper accepted the present, and released the girl; and the goldsmith took her with him, and returned to his own city. [27] " This, O sultan," said the Damsel, " is but one example of the craft of men." — The sultan then gave orders for the execution of his son. Next day the Fifth Vazir presented himself before the sultan, and said: "O my lord, reprieve thy son, and be not hasty in his death, lest thou repent, as the man repented, who never afterwards smiled." The sultan inquired his history, and the vazir proceeded : Story of the Young Man ivho li'as taken to the Land of Women} There was a man, possessed of great wealth and master of many slaves, who died, leaving his estates ^ Scott absurdly entitles this story, "The Ten Old Men and the Decayed Rake." In his time, the term "decayed" was THE FORBIDDEN DOORS. I? I to an infant son. When he reached manhood, he engaged in pleasure and amusements, in feasting and drinking, in music and dancing, with profusion and ex- travagance, until he had expended the riches his father had left him. He then took to selling his effects and slaves and concubines, till at length, through distress, he was obliged to ply as a porter in the streets for a subsistence. As he one day waited for an employer, an old man of portly and respectable appearance stopped, and looked earnestly at him for some time. At length the young man said : " Why, sir, do you so earnestly gaze at my countenance ? Have you any occasion for my services?" The old man replied: "Yes, my son. We are ten old men, who live together in the same house,^ and have at present no person to attend us. If thou wilt accept the office, I trust (God willing) it will afford thee much advantage." The youth replied: "Most willingly and readily." Then said the old man: "You shall serve us, but upon condition that you conceal our situation; and when you see us weep- ing and lamenting, that you ask not the cause." The young man consented, whereupon his new master took him to a bath, and when he was cleansed, presented often employed to describe a person who "had seen better days," as a "decayed gentlewoman" — a phrase which seems now-a-days sufficiently ludicrous. — The short title of this story is " Curiosity." ^ " I have with me ten old men in one house," according to the Bulaq and Calcutta texts— that is, ten besides himself. 172 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. him with a handsome dress, and repaired with him to his own house. This proved to be a magnificent palace ; its courts surrounded by galleries, and adorned with basins and fountains. All sorts of birds fluttered in the lofty trees which ornamented the gardens, and overshadowed the apartments. The old man conducted him into one of the pavil- ions, which was laid over with silken carpets, rich masnads,^ and superb cushions. In this pavilion sat nine venerable old men, all weeping and lamenting, at which he was astonished, but asked no questions. His master then took him to a large chest, pulled out of it a bag containing a thousand dinars, and said : " My son, thou art entrusted by God with this treasure, to expend it upon us and thyself with integrity." The young man replied: "To hear is to obey." He now busied himself in providing for their wants, what was necessary for victuals and raiment, during three years. At length one of the old men died, and they washed his corpse, and buried it in the garden of the palace. The young man continued to serve them, and the old men died one after another, until nine had de- parted, and he only remained who had hired him. At last, he also fell sick, and the young man despaired of his recovery. So he said to himself: " My master will surely die, and why should I not ask him the cause of their bewailings?" Approaching the couch of the old 1 A masnad is a kind of counterpane, spread on the carpet where the master of the house sits and receives company. THE FORBIDDEN DOORS. 173 man, who groaned in the agonies of death, he said: "O my master, I conjure thee by God to acquaint me with the reason of your constant lamentations." " My son," he replied, " there is no occasion for thee to know it, so do not importune me for what will not profit thee. Believe me, I have ever loved and com- passionated thee. I dread lest thou shouldst be punished as we have been punished, but wish thou mayest be preserved. Be advised, therefore, my son, and open not yonder locked door." He then pointed out the door to him ; after which his agonies increased, and he exclaimed: " I testify that there is no god but God, and that Muhammad is his servant and prophet !" Then his soul fluttered, he turned upon his side, and he was joined to his Lord. The young man washed the corpse, enshrouded it, and buried him by the side of his companions. After this he took possession of the palace, and diverted himself for some time in examining the treasures it contained. At length his mind became restless for want of employment. He reflected upon the fate of the old men, and on the dying words of his master, and the charge he had given him. He exam- ined the door; his mind was overcome by curiosity to see what could be within it, and he did not weigh the consec^uences. Satan tempted him to open the door, and he exclaimed with the poet: "What is not to happen cannot be effected by human contrivance; but what is to be will be." He now unlocked the 174 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. door. It opened into a long dark passage, in which he wandered for three hours, when he came out upon the shore of the ocean. He was astonished, and gazed with wonder on all sides. He would have re- turned, but lo ! a black eagle of monstrous size darted from the air, and seizing him in her talons, soared for some time between heaven and earth. At length it descended with him upon a small island in the ocean, and fled away. The young man remained a while motionless with terror; but recovering, began to wander about the island. Suddenly a sail arose to his view on the waters, resembling a fleeting cloud in the heavens. He gazed, and the sail approached, till it reached the beach of the island, when he beheld a boat formed of ivory, ebony, and sandal, the oars of which were made of aloes-wood of Comorin, the sails were of white silk, and it was navigated by beautiful maidens, shining like moons. They advanced from the boat, and kissing his hands, said: "Our souls are refreshed at seeing thee, for thou art the master of our country and of our queen." One of the ladies approached him with a parcel wrapped in rich damask, in which was a royal dress most superbly embroidered, and a crown of gold splendidly set with diamonds and pearls. She assisted him to dress; during which the youth said to himself: "Do I see this in a dream? or am I awake? The old man mentioned nothing of this. He must surely have forbade my opening the door out of envy." THE FORBIDDEN DOORS. i 7 5 The ladies then conducted him to the boat, which he found spread with elegant carpets and cushions of brocade. They hoisted the sails, and rowed with their oars, while the youth could not divine what would be the end of his adventure. He continued in a state of bewilderment till they reached land, when behold! the beach was crowded with troops and attendants, gallant in appearance, and of the tallest stature. When the boat anchored, five principal officers of the army advanced to the young man, who was at first alarmed, but they paid their obeisance profoundly, and welcomed him in a tone shrill as the sound of silver. Then the drums beat, the trumpets sounded, and the troops arranged themselves on his right hand and on his left. They proceeded till the)- reached an extensive and ver- dant meadow, in which another detachment met them, numerous as the rolling billows or waving shadows. Lastly appeared a young prince, surrounded by the nobles of his kingdom, but all wore veils, so that no part of them could be seen but their eyes. When the prince came near the young man, he and his company alighted, some of them embraced each other, and after conversing a while, remounted their horses. The cavalcade then proceeded, and did not halt till it came to the royal palace, when the young man was helped from his horse,^ and the prince conducted him into a ' This is the first intimation that the youth rode on horseback to meet the prince : the copyist had probably omitted to state, what other Arabic texts mention, that, when the boat reached 176 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. splendid hall, in which was the royal throne. The seeming prince ascended it and sat down; and on removing the veil from his face, the young man beheld a beautiful damsel in the supposed prince. While he gazed in astonishment, she said: "Young man, this country is mine, the troops are mine, and I am their queen; but when a man arriveth amongst us, he becomes my superior, and governs in my place." The youth, upon hearing this, was wrapt still more in wonder. And while they were conversing, the vazir en- tered, who was a stately looking matron, to whom the queen said: "Call the qazi and the witnesses." She replied: "To hear is to obey." The queen then said to the young man: "Art thou willing that I should be thy wife, and to be my hus- band?" Hearing this, and beholding her condescending demeanour, he rose up, and kissing the ground, said (as she would have prevented his prostration) : " I am not worthy of such high honour, or even to be one of thy humblest attendants." She replied: " My lord, all that thou hast beheld, and what remains unseen by thee of this country, its provinces, people, and treasures are thine, and I am thy handmaiden. Avoid only yonder door, which thou must not open: if thou dost, thou wilt repent when repentance will not avail." — The vazir, qazi, and witnesses, who were all women, now entered, and they were married; after which the the land, four horses of the purest breed were led before him, one of which he selected to ride upon. THE FORBIDDEN DOORS. 1 7 7 courtiers and people were introduced, and congrat- ulated them. The young man remained for seven months^ in the height of enjoyment, when one day he recollected his old master, and how he had warned him not to open the door in his palace, which though he had done, yet from his disobedience such unexpected good fortune had befallen him. His curiosity and Satan whispered to him, that within the door which the queen had for- bidden him to open, some important scenes must also be concealed. He advanced, opened it, and entered ; but found a gloomy passage, in which he had not walked more than twenty steps, when light gleamed upon him. He advanced, and beheld the same eagle that had borne him away. He would now have re- treated, but the monster darted upon him, seized him in its talons, ascended, and put him down on the spot where it had first taken him up. He regretted his lost grandeur, power, and dominion, exclaiming : " When I rode out, a hundred beautiful damsels surrounded me, and were flattered by being permitted to attend me. Alas ! I was living in honour, until I rashly ventured upon what I have committed!" For two full months he lamented, crying out : "Alas! alas ! if the bird would but once again return ! " but in vain. Night and day, weeping, he would exclaim : " I was enjoying my ease until my imprudence ruined me." At length one night, in a restless slumber, he ^ Seven years, according to the Biilaq and Calcutta texts. M lyS THE SEVEN VAZIRS. heard a voice saying: " Alas! alas! what is past cannot be recovered," upon which he despaired of seeing again his queen or his kingdom. He then entered the palace of his old masters by the dark passage, fatally convinced of what had occasioned their incessant lamentations. He employed himself in praying for their souls; and, like them, wept and lamented, until he died. [28] " Observe, therefore, O sultan," said the vazir, " that precipitancy is of ill consequence, and I advise thee from experience." — The sultan then refrained from executing his son. On the sixth night the Damsel entered with a dagger in her hand, and said: "O sultan, wilt thou revenge me of thy son? If not, I will instantly put myself to death. Thy vazirs pretend that woman is more artful than man, wishing to destroy my rights; but I assure thee that man is far more deceitful than woman, which is clear from what passed between a prince and a merchant's wife. Story of the Lover in the Chest. A MERCHANT, who was exceedingly jealous, had a very beautiful wife. From suspicion of her fidelity, he would not dwell in a city among men, but built a house in a most retired situation, that no one might visit her. It was surrounded by lofty walls, and had a strong gateway. Every morning he locked the door, THE LOVER IN THE CHEST. 1/9 took the key with him, and proceeded to the city to transact business until the evening. One day, the sultan's son, riding out for amuse- ment, passed by the house, and cast his eyes on the merchant's wife, who was walking on the terrace. He was captivated by her beauty, and she was no less charmed with his appearance. He tried the gate, but it was securely fastened. At length he wrote a declara- tion of his love, and iixed it on an arrow, which he shot upon the terrace. The merchant's wife read the letter, and returned a favourable answer. He then took the key of a chest, tied it to a note, in which was written, " I will come to thee in a chest, of which this is the key," and threw it up to her. The prince after this took his leave, and returning to the city, sent for his father's vazir, to whom he communicated what had happened, requesting his assistance. " My son," said the vazir, " what can I do ? I tremble for my character in such a business, and what plan can we pursue?" The prince answered : " I only require thy help in what I have contrived. I mean to place myself in a large chest, which thou must lock upon me, and convey at night to the merchant's house, and say to him: 'This chest contains my jewels and treasure, which I am afraid the sultan may seize, and must for a time entrust to thy care.' " The vazir having consented to the proposal, the prince entered the chest, which was then locked and conveyed privately to the town-liouse of the merchant. I So THE SEVEN VAZIRS. The vazir knocked at the door, and the merchant ap- pearing, made a profound obeisance to so honourable a visitant, who requested to leave the chest with him for some days, till the alarm of the sultan's displeasure should be over. The merchant readily consented, and had the chest for security carried to his country house, and placed in the apartments of his wife. In the morning he went about his affairs to the city, when his wife, having adorned herself in her richest apparel, opened the chest. The prince came out, embraced her, and kissed her. They passed the day together in merriment, till the merchant's return, when the prince repaired to his place of concealment. Seven days had passed in this manner, when it chanced that the sultan inquired for his son, and the vazir went hastily to the merchant to reclaim the chest. The merchant had returned earlier than usual to his country house, and was overtaken on his way by the vazir. The lady and the prince, who had been amusing themselves in the court of the house, were suddenly disturbed by a knocking at the gate, and the prince betook himself to the chest, which the wife in her con- fusion forgot to lock. The merchant entered with his servants, who took up the chest to deliver to the vazir; when lo ! the lid opened, and the prince was discovered, half intoxicated with wine. The poor merchant durst not revenge himself upon the son of his sovereign. He conducted him to the vazir, who was overwhelmed with shame at the disgraceful discovery. The merchant, con- THE LADY AND HER SUITORS. i8i vinced of his own dishonour, and that his precautions had been in vain, divorced his wife, and took an oath never to marry again. [29] "Such is the wiliness of men," added the Damsel: "but thy vazirs cannot escape my penetration." — ^After hearing this story, the sultan, who doatingly loved the Damsel, gave orders for the execution of his son. On the sixth day the Sixth Vazir came before the sultan, and said: " Be cautious, my lord, in the execu- tion of your son; be not rash, for rashness is sinful, and the artfulness of women is well known, for Ciod has declared, in the Qur'an, that their craftiness is beyond all measure. Story of tJic Merchant" s Wife and her Snitors. It has been reported to me that there was a woman who had a husband accustomed to travel much on business to distant countries. During one of his journeys, his wife became enamoured of a young man, who returned her fondness. It happened one day that this youth, having been engaged in a brawl, was apprehended by the police, and carried before the wali^ of the city, when it was proved that he was the transgressor, and the wall sentenced him to be im- prisoned. 1 Chief of police. THE SEVEN VAZFRS. When the lady heard of her lover's confinement, her mind was employed from hour to hour devising means for his release. At length she dressed herself in her richest apparel, repaired to the wall, made obeisance to him, and complained that her brother having had a scuffle with another youth, hired witnesses had sworn falsely against him, and he had been wrongfully cast into prison. She added that she could not remain safe without the protection of her brother, and begged that he should be set at liberty. The lady had a great share of beauty, which when the wall perceived, he desired her to enter his apartment while he gave orders for her brother's release. She guessed his design, and said: " My lord, I am an honourable and reputable woman, and cannot enter any apartments but my own. But if you desire it, you may visit me;" she then mentioned where she resided, and appointed the day when he should come. The wall was enraptured, and gave her twenty dinars, saying: " Expend this at the bath." She then left him, his heart busy in thinking of her beauty. The lady next went to the venerable qazi,^ and said: " My lord, look upon me," and removed her veil from her face. "What has happened to thee?" inquired the qazi. She replied: "I have a younger brother, and none but him, for a protector, whom the wall has imprisoned wrongfully, and whom I beseech thee out of thy compassion to release from his confme- ^ See note 2, page 93. THE LADY AND HER SUITORS. 183 ment." The qazi said : " Step in, while I order his release." She answered: " If you mean that, my lord, it must be at my house;" and she made an assignation for the same day she had appointed to the wall. The qazi then presented her with twenty dinars, saying: " Purchase provisions and sherbets with part of this sum, and pay for the bath with the remainder." From the qazi's house the lady repaired to that of the vazir, repeated her story, and besought his inter- ference with the wall for the release of her brother. The vazir also, smitten with her beauty, made proposals of love, which she accepted, but said he must visit her at her own house, and fixed the same day she had named to the wall and the qazi. The vazir then gave her twenty dinars, saying: " Expend part of this money at the bath, and with the rest prepare for us a supper and wine." She replied: "To hear is to obey." From the vazir she proceeded to the hajib,^ and said: " My lord, the wali has imprisoned my brother, who is but a stripling, on the evidence of false witnesses, and I humbly beseech thee for his release." The hajib rephed: "Step in, while I send for thy brother." She suspected his designs, and rejoined: "If my lord has business with me — in his house is a constant assemblage of persons — rather let him honour my humble dwelling with his footsteps." Then she assigned the same day she had appointed for the others, informing him of the 1 Governor of the city. 184 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. situation of her house; and the hajib gave her fifty dinars, saying: " Prepare a supper for us with part, and lay out the remainder at the bath." The lady took the gold, and went to a joiner's shop, and said: "I desire that you will make me a large cabinet, with four compartments, so strong that no single person could burst it open. When thou hast finished it, I will pay thee ten dinars."' The joiner agreed, and she hurried him daily till it was finished, when he carried it to her house upon a camel, and set it up in its place. She offered him the price agreed upon, but the joiner refused it, saying : " My dear lady, I will not take anything, and only desire that I may pass an evening with you." She replied: " If that be the case, you must add a fifth compartment to the cabinet." He readily consented, and she fixed the same evening she had appointed for the wali, the qazi, the vazir, and the hajib. She now went to market, and bought some old garments, which she dyed red, yellow, black, and blue, and made to them whimsical caps of various colours. Then she cooked flesh and fowl, bought wine,^ and prepared everything for the appointed evening; when she attired herself in her richest apparel, and sat down, expecting her guests. 1 It was formerly the custom at wine-parties in tlie East for tlie host and his guests to wear dresses of bright colours, such as red, yellow, and green. — Although wine is prohibited by the Qur'an, it is often privately drunk by Muslims. THE LADY AND HER SUITORS. 185 First the wali^ knocked at the door, and she rose and opened it, and said: " My lord, the house of your slave is yours, and I am your handmaid." Then, having feasted him till he was satisfied, she took off his robes, and, bringing a black vest and a red cap, said: "Put on the dress of mirth and pleasure;" after which she made him drink wine till he was intoxicated, when lo! there was a knocking at the door, and she said: "My lord, I cannot be cheerful till you have released my brother." He immediately wrote an order to the jailor to give the young man his freedom, which she gave to a servant to deliver, and had no sooner returned to the wall when the knocking became louder. " Who is coming?" he inquired. " It is my husband," replied the lady; "get into this cabinet, and I will return presently and release thee." Having locked the wall in the cabinet, she went to the door. The qazi now entered, whom she saluted, led in, and seated respectfully. She first filled a cup with wine, and drank to him; and then presented him with meat and wine. The qazi said gravely: "I have never drunk wine during all my life;" but she per- ^ Here I have made considerable alterations : in Scott's trans- lation (and also in the Calcutta printed text) the qazi is repre- sented as the first to make his appearance ; but we have seen that the first appointment was made with the wall. It is to be understood that the lady fixed a later hour for each successive suitor, otherwise she might have had two or more on her hands at the same time, which was certainly no part of her plan. 1 86 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. suaded him to drink, saying that company was always dull without wine. After this, she pulled off his magisterial robes, and saying, " My lord, put on the garments of mirth and pleasure," dressed him in a robe of yellow and red, with a black cap. Suddenly the door resounded, and the qazi, alarmed for his reputation, asked: "Who is at the door? what shall we do?" She replied: " I fear it is my husband. Go into this cabinet, until he goes away, when I will release thee, and we shall pass the evening pleasantly together." Having locked the qazi in the cabinet, the lady admitted the vazir, and, kissing his hand, she said: "Thou hast highly honoured me, my lord, by thy auspicious approach." Then she set supper before him, and cajoled him to drink till he was merry and frolicsome, when she said : " Disrobe yourself, my lord, put on the vesture of pleasure, and leave the habit of the vazir for its proper offices." Smiling at her playfulness, the vazir undressed, and put on, at the lady's request, a red vest and a green cap tufted with wool, after which they began to drink and sing, when there was a knocking at the door, and the vazir, in terror, inquired the cause. " It is my husband," said the lady; " step into this cabinet, till he is gone." The vazir quickly slipped in, upon which she locked the compartment, and hastened to the door. The hajib now entered, according to appointment, and having seated him, the lady said courteously: "My THE LADY AND HER SUITORS. 187 lord, you have honoured me by your kindness and condescension." Then she began to undress him, and his robes were worth at least four thousand dinars. She brought him a parti-coloured vest, and a copper cap set with shells, saying: "These, my lord, are the garments of festivity and mirth." The hajib, having put them on, began to toy and kiss, and she plied him with wine till he was intoxicated. A knock- ing was again heard at the gate, when the hajib cried out: "Who is this?" and she replied: "My husband; hide in this cabinet, until I can send him away, and I will immediately return to thee." The poor joiner was next admitted, and the lady plied him so freely with wine, after he had supped, that he was ready for any kind of foolery; so she bade him take off his clothes, and left him, to fetch a dress, when once more the door resounded, and she ex- claimed : " Run into this cabinet, even as thou art, for here is my husband." He entered,^ and having locked him in, the lady then admitted her lover, just released from prison by the wall's order. She informed him of her stratagem, and said: "We must not remain longer here;" upon which the lover went out and hired camels, and they loaded them with all the effects of the house, leaving nothing but the cabinet, strongly ^ In the Calcutta text, on the arrival of the joiner, she com- plains that the fifth compartment of the cabinet is too small ; he steps into it, to show that there is room for several men, upon which she locks him in, like the others. 1 88 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. secured with five locks, and within it the worthy officers of government and the poor joiner. The lady and her lover set off without further delay, and travelled to another city, where they could be secure from discovery. Meanwhile the unfortunate lovers in the cabinet were in a woeful condition.^ At length they became aware of each other's presence, and began to converse, and, notwithstanding their distress, could not refrain from laughing at each other. In the morning the landlord of the house, finding the gate open, entered, but hearing voices from the cabinet, he was alarmed, and summoned a number of the neighbours. Then the landlord exclaimed: "Are you men or jinn that are in this cabinet?" They replied: " If we were jinn, we should not remain here, nor should we want any one to open the doors. We are only men." The neighbours cried out: "Let us not open the cabinet, but in presence of the sultan;" upon which the qazi exclaimed: "O my people, let us out — 'Conceal what God has concealed!"-^ and do not disgrace us. I 1 A short passage, humorous but coarse, is here omitted. Scott states in his preface that he had suppressed "a few expressions rather too plainly descriptive of natural situations ;" this is one which he has retained — his notions of "delicacy" being apparently somewhat vague. In the Calcutta text, as well as in Scott's version, the compartments of the cabinet are made "one above the other," in order to introduce the little incident. - A quotation from the Qur'an. — S. THE LADY AND HER SUITORS. 189 am the qazi." They replied: "Thou Hest, and it is impossible. For if thou art the qazi, how earnest thou to be confined here? Thou art an impostor; for our worthy qazi, thou impious wretch, is a man who sub- dueth his passions. Be silent, lest he hear thee, and bring thee to punishment." After this the qazi durst not speak, and was silent. Then they brought several i;)orters, who took up the great cabinet, and carried it to the palace of the sultan,! who, on being informed of the affair, sent for carpenters and smiths, and caused it to be broken open in his presence, when lo ! he discovered the wali, the qazi, the vazir, the hajib, and the poor joiner. "What brought thee here, O reverend qazi?" incpiired the sultan. The qazi exclaimed: "God be praised, who hath providentially saved thee, O sultan, from what hath befallen us!" He then issued from the cabinet in his coloured vest and fool's cap, as did the rest of his companions in their ridiculous dresses, but the poor joiner in his birth-day habit. The sultan laughed till he almost fainted, and commanded the adventures of each to be written, from first to last. He also ordered search to be made for the merchant's ^ According to the Calcutta text, the suitors were three days in the cabinet before the neighbours broke into the house and released them, when they became the objects of derision ; and the woman having taken away all their clothes, they had to send to their own houses for others before they could appear in the streets. igo THE SEVEN VAZIRS. wife, but in vain, for she had escaped with the robes, valuables, and weapons of the foolish gallants. [30] " From this story," said the vazir, " consider, O sul- tan, how deep is the artifice of women, and how little dependence should be placed upon their declarations."^ On the seventh night the Damsel kindled a funeral pile, and affected to cast herself into it, when her attendants prevented her, and carrying her forcibly to the sultan, informed him of her attempt on her own 1 Scott has omitted the second story of the sixth vazir, "it being too free to bear translation." It is a humorous but very indecent tale of a man who, on the Night of Power {Al Qadar, the night on which the whole of the Qur'an was revealed to Gabriel, who afterwards communicated it to Muhammad piece- meal), was granted Three Wishes, and acting by his wife's advice, after his third wish was accomplished, found himself no better than before. The story probably suggested the still more obscene fabliau of " Les quatre souhaits de Saint Martin," and is similar in design to one of our nursery tales. (See also pp. 71- 73. ) An analogous Hindu story is found in the Panchatantra , to the following effect : A poor weaver was about to cut down a large sisu-tree, to make a loom, when the spirit of the tree called to him to desist, and he should be granted a boon. Having consulted a friend as to what he should ask and rejected his advice, he applied to his wife, who counselled him to ask an extra head and pair of arms, so that he should be able to do double work. He obtained this boon, and returning to the village was stoned for a goblin by his fellow-villagers. Moral: He who neither exercises his own judgment nor follows a friend's advice brings on his own ruin. THE MAGPIE. 191 life. The sultan exclaimed : "What could have induced thee to such rashness?" She replied: " If thou wilt not credit my assertions, I will certainly throw myself into the fire, when thou wilt be too late regretful on my account, as the prince repented of having unjustly punished the religious woman." The sultan desired to know the particulars, and the Damsel said : Story of the Devout WoJiiau and the Magpie. A CERTAIN pious woman, who made pilgrimages to various parts of the world, in the course of one of them came to the court of a sultan, who received her with welcome reverence. One day his queen took the good woman with her to the bath, and handed her a string of jewels, worth two thousand gold dinars, to take charge of while she bathed. The religious woman placed it upon the sajjada,^ and began to say her prayers. Suddenly a magpie alighted from the roof of the palace, and fled away with the string of jewels in its claws, unobserved by the pilgrim, and ascended to one of the turrets. When the queen came from the bath, she searched for the string of jewels, but not finding it, demanded it of the pilgrim, who said: " It was here this instant, and I have not moved from this place. Whether any of your domestics may have taken it up or not, I cannot tell." The queen was enraged, and complained to the sultan, ^ A prostration cloth, mat, or carpet. 192 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. who commanded the pilgrim to be scourged till she should discover the jewels. She was beaten severely, but confessed nothing; after which she was imprisoned, and remained a long time in durance; till one day the sultan, sitting upon the terrace of the palace, beheld a magpie, with the string of jewels twisted round its claws. He commanded the bird to be caught, released the pil- grim, of whom he entreated pardon, kissed her hands, begged forgiveness of God for what he had done, and would have made atonement to her by a valuable present, but she would not accept it. She left the court; and having resolved in her mind, for the re- mainder of her life, not to enter the house of any one, retired to the mountains, till she died. May God have mercy upon her!^ The Damsel then related, as an example of the crafty disposition of men, the Story of Prince Bahrain and Princess Ed-Detvia'.- There was formerly a princess, than whom no one of her time was more skilful in horsemanship and throw- 1 This is similar to our popular tale of "The Maid and the Magpie ; " only in the latter, with more art, the reader is not informed of the bird's theft until the stolen article is discovered. - " Rumta " in Scott's translation, and no doubt also, by a blunder of the copyist, in the manuscript. The name is Ed-Detma in all other Arabic texts. — "The Amazon" is the short title by which this story is distinguished. THE AMAZON. 193 ing the lance and javelin. Her name was Ed-Detma. Many powerful princes demanded her in marriage, but she would not consent, having resolved to wed only him who should overcome her in combat, saying : " Whoever worsts me, I will be his; but should I prove victorious, he shall forfeit his weapons and his horse, and I will stamp upon his forehead with a hot iron this inscription: 'The Freedman of Ed-Detma.'" ^ Many princes attempted to gain her, but she foiled them, seized their weapons, and marked them as she had signified. At length the prince of Persia, named Bahram, hearing of her charms, resolved to obtain her; for which purpose he quitted his kingdom, and underwent many difficulties on his journey, until he reached his destination. He then entrusted his pro- perty to a respectable inhabitant, and visited the sultan; to whom he presented a valuable offering. The sultan seated him respectfully, and inquired the object of his visit. "I am come from a distant country," replied the prince, " anxiously desirous of an alliance with thy daughter." The sultan said: "My son, I have no power over her; for she has resolved not to wed, unless her suitor shall vanquish her in combat." The prince answered: "I accept the condi- tions;" upon which the sultan informed his daughrer, who accepted the challenge. 1 Scott has "the Slave," etc., but the other texts have, very properly, the " Freedman "—the vanquished losing their arms and steeds, but having their Tiberty restored them. N 194 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. On the appointed day a numerous crowd assembled in the maydan,i where the suhan with his nobles ap- peared in great pomp. Ed-Detma advanced, arrayed in dazzling habiliments; and the prince came forth, elegant in person, and superbly accoutred. They immediately encountered; the earth vibrated from the shock of their horses, and violent was the charge of weapons on both sides. The sultan viewed with admiration the majestic demeanour of the prince; and Ed-Detma, perceiving his superior valour and agihty, dreaded being vanquished. She artfully with- drew her veil, when her countenance appeared as the resplendent moon suddenly emerging from a dark cloud. The prince was fascinated with her beauty, and his whole frame trembled. The princess, observ- ing his confusion, threw her javelin at his breast, and he fell from his horse, and she returned exulting to the palace. The prince rose up, much mortified at his discom- fiture, and returned to the city, pondering upon the deceit she had practised, and resolved to try a strata- gem upon her. After some days, he fixed to his face a long white beard, like that of a venerable old man, clothed himself in the dress of a devotee, and repaired to a garden which he was informed the princess visited every month. He formed an intimacy with the keeper of it, by making him presents, till he had drawn him ^ Open space for martial exercises and sports. THE AMAZON. 195 over to his interest. He then pretended to understand the cultivation of a garden, and the management of plants. The keeper therefore entrusted them to his care, and he watered them carefully, so that the shrubs became fresher and the blossoms more beautiful under his management. At the usual time, the ferashes^ came, and spread carpets, and made other preparations for the reception of the princess. Bahram, on her approach, took some jewels and scattered them in the walks, when the princess and her attendants, seeing an old man, ap- parently trembling with age, stopped and inquired what he was doing with the jewels. He replied: " I would purchase a wife with them, and would have her from among you." At this the ladies laughed heartily, and said: "When thou art married, how wilt thou behave to thy wife?" He said: "I would just give her one kiss, and divorce her." Then said the princess jestingly, and pointing to one of her ladies: " I will give thee this girl for a wife," upon which he advanced, kissed the damsel in a tremulous manner, and gave her the jewels. After laughing at him for some time, the princess and her attendants quitted the garden. The like scene was enacted for several days, the prince every time giving richer jewels to the lady he espoused; till at length the princess thought to her- 1 Servants, who have charije of tents, etc. T96 THE SEVEN VAZ'iRS. self: " Every one of my maidens has obtained from this dotard jewels richer than is in the possession of most sovereigns, and I certainly am more worthy of them than my attendants. He is a decrepid wretch, and can do me no harm." She then went alone to the garden, where she beheld the old man scattering jewels which were invaluable, and said: " I am the sultan's daughter, wilt thou accept me as a wife?" He advanced, and presented her with such a number of jewels that she was delighted beyond measure, and became anxious that he should give her one kiss, and let her depart like the other ladies. The prince, suddenly clasping her in his arms, exclaimed: " Dost thou not know me? I am Bahram, son of the sultan of Persia, whom thou overcamest only by strata- gem, and I have now vanquished thee in the same manner. On thy account I exiled myself from my friends and country, but I have now obtained my desires." The princess remained silent, not being able to utter a word from confusion. She retired in anger to the palace, but, upon reflection, did not disclose what had passed, through fear of disgrace.^ She said to herself: 1 "What had passed " is much more explicitly described in the original text; this royal amazon was, in fact, treated by the prince as Dinah the daughter of Jacob was by Shechem, though one would hardly guess so much from Scott's ingenious rendering of the scene. — I shall only add here that the prince's stratagem may be compared with the story in the Hitopadesa (i, 8) of "The King's Son and the Merchant's Wife." THE AMAZON. 197 "If I have him put to death, wliat will it jjrofit me? I can now do nothing wiser than marry him, and repair with him to his own country." Having thus resolved, she sent a trusty messenger to inform him of her intentions, and appointed a night to meet him. At the time fixed upon the prince was ready to receive her; they mounted their horses under cover of the night, and by daylight had travelled a great distance. They did not slacken their speed day or night until they were beyond the reach of pursuit, and arrived at the capital of Persia in safety. The prince then despatched rich presents by an ambassador to the sultan her father, entreating that he would send an envoy to ratify the marriage of his daughter. The sultan having duly complied, the qazi and proper witnesses attended; and they were married amid the greatest rejoicings, and the prince lived long with her in perfect felicity. [31] " Such," said the Damsel, " is the artfulness of men." When the sultan had heard these stories, he again gave orders that his son should be put to death. On the following day the Seventh Vazir approached the sultan, and, after the usual obeisance, said: "For- bear, my lord, to shed the blood of thy innocent son; for thou hast none but him, and may not have another, when thou hast put him to death. Attend not to the malicious accusations of concubines, for the deceit of bad women is astonishing, and is exemplified in the THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Story of the Burnt Veil. There was a certain merchant, very rich, who had an only son, whom he loved exceedingly. One day he said to the young man: "My son, tell me whatever thou desirest of the pleasures of life, that I may gratify thee." The youth replied: "I long for nothing so much as to visit the city of Bagdad, and see the palaces of the khalif and the vazirs — that I may behold what so many merchants and travellers have so rap- turously described." The merchant observed: "I do not approve of such an excursion, because it would occasion your absence from me." — "My dear father," said the young man, " you inquired my wish, and this is it, and I cannot willingly give it up." When the father heard this, being unwilling to vex his son, he prepared for him an adventure of merchandise of the value of thirty thousand dinars, and recommended him to the care of some eminent merchants, his par- ticular friends. The youth was amply provided with requisites for the journey, and, attended by many slaves and domestics, he travelled unceasingly till he reached the celebrated capital of Islam, where he hired a handsome house near the grand market. For several days he rode about the city, and beheld such splendid scenes that his mind was bewildered amidst the mag- nificence of the buildings, the richness of the shops, and the spaciousness of the markets. He admired THE BURNT VEIL. 199 the dome-crowned palaces, their extensive courts, and regular arcades ; the pavements of \ariously-coloured marbles, the ceilings adorned with gold and azure, the doors studded with nails of silver, and jiainted in fanciful devices. At length, he stopped at a mansion of this dcscrii)- tion, and inquired the rent by the month ; and the neighbours told him that the monthly hire was ten dirhams. The young merchant exclaimed in astonish- ment : " Are ye speaking the truth, or do ye only jeer me?" They replied: "We swear, my lord, that we speak the truth exactly ; but it is impcjssible to reside in that house more than a week or a fortnight, without being in hazard of death — a circumstance well known in Bagdad. The rent originally was twenty gold dinars monthly, and is now reduced to ten silver dirhams."! The young man was now still more surprised, and said to himself: '' There must be some reason for this, which I wish to find out, and am resolved to hire the house." He did so ; and, casting all fear from his mind, took possession, brought his goods, and resided some time in it, employed in business and amusement. At length, sitting one day at his gate, he beheld an old woman (may God's vengeance rest upon her !), who was a cunning go-between under a religious garb. When the old jade saw the young man reclining upon ^ Twenty gold dinars are equivalent to ten pounds, and ten silver dirhams, to five shillings of our money. THE SEVEN VAZIKS. a mastaba^ spread with nice carpets, and that he had every appearance of affluence around liim. she bowed to him,- and he returned her salute. She then jj;azed steadfastly at him, upon which he said : " Dost thou want my services, good mother ? Dost thou know me, or mistake me for one whom I may resemble?" She answered : " My lord, and my son, I know thee not ; but when I beheld thy beauty and manliness, I thought upon a circumstance, which, with Ood's blessing, I will relate."' The youth exclaimed: "(".od grant it may be a fortunate one !" She said: "How long hast thou resided in this house?" On his replying, two months, she exclaimed: "That is wonderful, my son! For every one who before resided in it for more than a week or a fortnight either died or, being taken dan- gerously ill, gave it up. I suppose thou hast not opened the prospect-room or ascended the terrace?" W'hen she had thus spoken, she went awa)-, and left the young man astonished at her questions. Curiosity made him immediately examine closely all the upper apartments of the mansion, till at length he found a secret door, almost covered with cobwebs, which he wiped away. He then opened the door. 1 A platform, of stone or brick, built against the front wall of a house or shop. 2 The salute in Asia, from men and women, is a gentle inclina- tion of the body, at the same time touching the forehead with the right hand. For this double action we have no expression ; the Arabic one is es-saldm. — S. THE BURNT VE/L. and, hesitating to proceed, said to himself: "This is wonderful I What if I sliould meet niv death within?" Relying, howcvt-r, upon (lod, he entered, and found an apartment having windows (jn every side, which over- looked the whole neighbourhood. He opened the shutters, and sat down to amu.se himself with the pro- spect. His eyes were speedily arrested by a palace more elegant than the others, and while he surveyed it, a lady appeared upon the terrace, beautiful as a huri ; her charms would have ravished the heart, changed the love of Majnun,^ torn the continence of Joseph, overcome the patience of Job, and as- suaged the sorrow of Jacob:- the chaste and devout would have adored her, and the abstinent and the pilgrim would have longed for her company. When the merchant's son beheld her, love took pos- session of his heart. He sank down on the carpet, and exclaimed: "Well may it be said, that whoever resides in this mansion will soon die from hopeless love of this beautiful damsel !" He quitted the apart- ment, locked the door, and descended the staircase. The more he reflected the more he was disturbed, and both rest and patience forsook him. Then he went ^ See note, page io8. - The sorrow of Jacob at the loss of his son Joseph is pro- verbial among the Muslims : according to the Qur'an, he wept himself blind, but his sight was restored by the virtue of Joseph's \^ upper garment, brought from Egypt on the return of his sons from their second journey to buy corn. THE SEVEN VAZIRS. and sat down at his gate, when, lo ! after a short interval, the old woman appeared, devoutly counting her beads, and mumbling prayers.^ When she came near, he saluted her, and said : " I was at ease and contented until I looked out of the apartment you mentioned, and beheld a young lady, whose beauty has distracted me : and if thou canst not procure me her company, I shall die with disappointment." - She replied : '• My son, do not despair on her account, for I will accomplish thy desires." Then she consoled him, and he gave her fifty dinars, with many thanks for her kindness, saying : " My dear mother, assist me to the ijurpose, and you may demand what you please." The old woman replied : " My son, go to the great market, and inquire for the shop of our lord Abu-'l Fat-h the son of Qaydam, the great silk mer- chant, whose wife this lady is. Approach him with all civility, and say that you want a rich veil,'^ em- broidered with gold and silver, for your concubine. Return with it to me, and your desires shall be grati- Mt is a custom of Muslim devotees to hang round the neck, in several circumvolutions, a string of many hundreds of beads. The object is either to employ these beads in repeating certain ejaculations in praise of God, or to make others beheve that the wearer is accustomed to so employ them. — Lane. - According to Syntipas, before the youth engaged the ser\'ices of the old woman, he had introduced himself into the lady's house, and been repulsed. •' In Syntipas it is a mantle, and in the Libro de los Engannos, ' ' a cloth, which he [the lady's husband] keeps hidden. " THE BURNT VEIL. fied." The young man hastened to the bazar of the chief merchants, and was soon directed to the person he inquired after, who was also a broker of mer- chandise to the khalif Harunu-'r-Rashid. He easily found such a veil as he was directed to purchase, for which he paid a hundred gold dinars, and returned home with it to the old woman, who took a live coal, and with it burned three holes in the veil, which she then took away with her. She then proceeded to the young lady's house, and knocked at the gate. When the lady inquired who was there, the old woman said: "It is I, Ummu Maryam,"! on vvhich the merchant's wife, knowing her to be a humble acquaintance of her mother, said: " My dear aunt,- my mother is not here, but at her own house." The old woman said: "Daughter, the hour of prayer approaches, and I cannot reach my house in time to perform my ablutions. I request, therefore, that I may make them in your house, as I am secure of having pure water here."" The door was now opened, and the hypocritical 1 The Mother of Mary. In Arabia, the mother is generally addressed in this way as a mark of respect for having borne children, and the eldest gives the title. — S. - Answering to our obsolete term of aunt, or naunt, by which old women of inferior degree were formerly addressed. See Shenstone's " Schoolmistress." — S. ^ It is a religious point with Muhammadans to have pure water for their ablutions ; and in their law-books many chapters define how it may be defiled. — S. 204 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. jade entered, counting her beads, and mumbling her prayers for the welfare of the young lady, her hus- band, and her mother. She then took off her drawers,^ girded her vest round her waist, and a vessel of water being brought, performed her ablutions; after which she said: " Show me, good daughter, a pure spot, free from pollution, to pray upon." The young lady re- plied: "You may pray upon my husband's carpet." The old woman now muttered her prayers, during which, unperceived by the merchant's wife, she slipped the burnt veil under the cushion at the head of the husband's carpet, and then, rising up from her devo- tions, she thanked the young lady, warned her against meeting the eyes of licentious men, and took her leave. Soon after this the merchant returned home, sat down upon his carpet to repose himself, and his wife brought him a collation, of which he ate. She then set before him water, and he washed his hands, after which he turned to take a napkin from under his cushion to wipe them, when, lo! he discovered the veil which he had that day sold to the young man, and instantly became suspicious of his wife's fidelity. For some time he was unable to speak. On reflection, he resolved that his disgrace should not become public ^ It is unlawful for the Muhammadans to pray in silk that touches the skin. For this they have, to save trouble, a salvo, namely, a stuff called mashriT, or legal, made of silk and cotton mixed. If the upper garment only be of silk it is of no injury to devotion. — S. THE BURNT VEIL. 205 among his brother merchants, or reach the ears of the khalif, whose agent and broker he was, lest he should be dishonoured at court. He kept the discovery of the veil to himself; but, in a little time, addressing his wife, desired that she would go and visit her mother. The lady, supposing from this that she was indis- posed, put on her veil, and hastened to the house of her mother, whom, however, she found in good health, and that no ill had befallen her. The mother and daughter sat down, and were talking of indifferent matters, when suddenly several porters entered the house, loaded with the wife's effects, her marriage dower, and a writing of divorce. The old lady in alarm exclaimed: " Knowest thou not, daughter, the cause of thy husband's displeasure?" The wife re- plied: "I can safely swear, my dear mother, that I know not of any fault of which I can have been guilty, deserving this treatment." The mother wept bitterly for the disgrace of her daughter, and the wife lamented her separation from her husband, whom she ardently loved. vShe continued to grieve night and day; her appetite failed her, and her beauty began to decay. In this manner a month passed away. At the expiry of this period the old woman Ummu Maryam came to visit the young lady's mother, and after many fawning caresses sat down. When she had told the common news, she said: " I heard, sister, that my lord Abu-1 Fat-h had divorced your daughter his wife, on which account I have fasted some days and spent the 2o6 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. nights in prayer, in hopes that God may restore her condition." The mother rephed: "May God grant us that blessing!" The old woman then inquired after her daughter, and the mother said : " She is grieving for the loss of her husband ; her heart is breaking; she feels no pleasure in company, which is disgustful to her, and I fear that, should her lamen- tations and sorrow continue, they will occasion her death." Then the old woman asked: "Does thy daughter wish to be reconciled to her husband?" The mother replied, that she did. " If so," said the old woman, "let her abide with me for a night or two. She will see proper company; her heart will be re- freshed; and society wiU relieve her depression of mind." The mother assented to the propriety of her observations, gained the consent of her daughter, prevailed upon her to dress herself, and sent her home with Ummu Maryam, who conducted her to the house of the merchant's son. The young man, when he saw his beloved, rejoiced as if he had gained possession of the world. He ran to her, saluted her, and kissed her between the eyes. The affrighted lady was overcome Avith shame and confusion; but he addressed her with such tenderness, made such ardent professions, and repeated so many elegant verses, that at length her fears were dispelled. She partook of a collation, and drank of various wines. Every now and then she looked at the young man, who was beautiful as the full moon, and love for him THE BURNT VEIL. 207 at length fascinated her mind. She took up a lute, and played and sang in praise of his accomplishments, so that he was in such ecstasies that he would have sacrificed his life and property to her charms.^ In the morning the old woman returned, and said : "My children, how passed you the evening?" The young lady replied: " In ease and happiness, my dear aunt, by virtue of your supplications and midnight prayers." On this the old woman said roughly: " Thou must now accompany me to thy mother." The young merchant flattered her, and giving her ten gold dinars, said: "I pray thee let her remain with me this day." She took the gold, and then repaired to the mother of the young lady, to whom, after the usual salutations, she said: "Sister, thy daughter bids me inform thee that she is better, and her grief is removed; so that I hope you will not take her from me." The mother replied : " Since my daughter is happy, why should I deny thee, even should she remain a month; for I know that thou art an honest and pious woman, and that thy dwelling is auspicious." x^fter this the young lady remained seven days at the house of the young merchant, during which on each morning Ummu Maryam appeared, saying to ^ In Syutipas the young man accomplishes his purpose by force. The Arabian version of the incident may not, perhaps, be a very great improvement ; but Mr Lane gives a still less objectionable turn to the story at this point. — See his looi N., vol. iii, p. 161, note 35. 2o8 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. her: "Return with me to thy mother;" and the young man entreated for another day, giving her regularly ten gold dinars. Having received the present, she always visited the mother, and gave her agreeable tidings of her daughter's health. On the eighth day, however, the mother said to the old woman: "My heart is anxious about my daughter; and truly her long absence seems extraordinary;" and Ummu Maryam, pretending to be affronted, replied : " Sister, dost thou cast reflections upon me?" She then re- paired to the house of the young merchant, brought away the lady, and conducted her to her mother, but did not enter the house. When the mother saw that her health and beauty were restored, she was delighted, and said: "Truly, daughter, my heart was anxious concerning thee; and I began to suspect Ummu Marj'am, and treated her unkindly because of thy long absence." — " I was not with her," replied the young lady, "but in pleasure and happiness, and in repose and safety. I have obtained through her means health and contentment; so that I conjure thee, my dear mother, to ease her mind, and be grateful for her kindness." Hearing this, the mother arose, and went immediately to the house of the old woman, entreated her pardon, and thanked her for her kindness to her daughter. Ummu Maryam accepted her excuses, and the old lady re- turned home with her mind relieved. Next morning the wil)- Ummu Maryam visited the THE BURNT VEIL. 209 young merchant, and said : " My son, I wish you to repair the mischief you have done, and to reconcile a wife to her husband." — "How can that be effected?" he asked. " Go to the warehouse of Abu-'l P\at-h the son of Qaydam," she repHed, "and enter into con- versation with him, till I shall appear before you; then start up, and lay hold of me, abuse me roundly, and say : ' Where is the veil I gave thee to darn, which I bought of my lord Abu-'l Fat-h, the son of Qaydam?' If he asks thee the cause of thy claim upon me, answer him thus : ' You may recollect that I bought a veil of you for a hundred gold dinars, as a present to my concubine. I gave it to her, and she put it on, but soon after, while she was carrying a lamp, some sparks flew from the wick, and burnt it in three places. This old woman was present, and said that she would take it to the lace-darner, to which I consented, and I have never seen her since till this moment.'" The young merchant accordingly went to the great market, and coming to the shop of my lord Abu-'l Fat-h, the son of Qaydam, he made him a profound obeisance, which Abu-'l Fat-h returned, but in a gloomy and sulky manner. The youth, however, seated himself, and began to address him on various subjects, when Ummu Maryam appeared, with a long rosary in her hands, the beads of which she counted, while repeating aloud the attributes of the Deity. ^ He ^ See note i, page 202. THE SEVEN VAZTRS. immediately started up, ran and laid hold of her, and began to abuse her, when she exclaimed: "I am innocent, and thou art innocent!" A crowd soon gathered around them, and Abu-'l Fat-h, coming from his shop, seized the young man, and demanded : "What is the cause of this rude behaviour to a poor old woman?" He replied: "You must recollect, sir, that I bought of you a rich veil for a hundred dinars. I gave it to my concubine, who shortly afterwards dropped some sparks from a lamp, which burnt the veil in three places. This cursed hypocritess was pre- sent at the time, and offered to carry it immediately to the lace-darner. She took it, accordingly, and I have not set eyes upon her again till now, though more than a month has elapsed." Ummu Maryam assented to the veracity of this statement, and said: "My son, I honestly intended to get the veil mended ; but, calling at some houses on my way to the darner, I left it behind me, but where I cannot recollect. I am, it is true, a poor woman, but of pure reputation, and have nothing wherewith to make up the loss of the veil. ' Let the owner, then,' said I to myself, ' believe that I have cheated him, for that is better than that I should occasion disturbances among families by endeavouring to recover the veil.' This is the whole matter; 'God knows the truth, and God will release from difificulty the true speaker.' "^ ^ .\ quotation from the Qur'an. — S. THE BURNT VEIL. 211 When Abu-'l Fat-h heard these words his counten- ance changed from sorrowful to glad. He thought tenderly of his divorced wife, and said in his mind: "Truly I have treated her harshly." He then begged pardon of God for his jealousy, and blessed him for restoring to him again his happiness. To his inquiry of the old woman, whether she frequented his house, she replied: "Certainly; and also the houses of your relations. I eat of your alms, and pray that you may be rewarded both in this world and the next. I have inquired for the veil at all the houses I visit, but in vain." — " Did you inquire at my house?" said the mer- chant. " My lord," replied the old woman, " I went yesterday, but found no one at home, when the neigh- bours informed me that my lord had for some cause divorced his wife." Addressing the young man, Abu-'l Fat-h said: "Sir, I pray you, let this poor old woman go, for your veil is with me, and I will take care that it shall be properly repaired;" on which Ummu Maryam fell down before the merchant and kissed his hands, and then went her way. x^bu-'l Fat-h now took out the veil in the presence of the young man, and gave it to a darner; and was convinced that he had treated his wife cruelly, which indeed was the case, had she not afterwards erred through the temptations of that wicked old woman. He then sent to his wife, requesting her to return, and offered her what terms she pleased; and she complied with his desire, and was reconciled; — but my lord THE SEVEN VAZIRS. Abu-'l Fat-h the son of Qaydam little knew what had befallen him from the arts of Ummu Maryam. [i6] ^^'hen the vazir had ended his story, " Consider, O sultan," he said, "the cunning of bad women, their wiles, and their artful contrivances." — The sultan again gave orders to stay the execution of his son. On the eighth morning, when the impediment was done away against his speaking, the prince sent to the vazirs and his tutor, who had concealed himself, and desired them to come to him. On their arrival, he thanked them for their services to his father, and what they had done to prevent his own death, adding: "By God's help, I will soon repay you." The vazirs now repaired to the sultan, informed him of the cause of his son's obstinate silence, and of the arts of the damsel. The sultan rejoiced exceedingly, and ordered a public audience to be held, at which the vazirs, the officers of state, and the learned men appeared. The prince entered, with his tutor, and, kissing the ground before his father, prayed eloquently for his welfare and that of his vazirs and his tutor. The whole assembly were astonished at his fluency of speech, his propriety of diction, and his accomplished demeanour. The sultan was enraptured, and ran to him, kissed him between the eyes, and clasped him to his bosom. He did the same to the tutor, and COA'CLUSIOX. 213 thanked him for his care of the ])rince. The tutor said: " I only commanded him to be silent, fearful for his life during these seven days, which were marked in his horoscope as unfortunate, but have ended happily."^ Then the sultan said: "Had I put him to death, in whom would have been the crime — myself, thee, or the damsel?" On this question the assembly differed much in their oi)inions, and the prince, observing their altercations, said : " I will solve this difficulty." The assembly with one voice exclaimed: "Let us hear," and the Prince said: Story of the Poisoned Food. I HAVE heard of a certain merchant to whom there came unexpectedly a visitor; upon which he sent a female domestic to buy laban^ in the market. As she was returning with it upon her head in an uncovered vessel, she passed under a tree, on which was a serpent, from whose mouth fell some drops of venom into the laban. Her master and his guest ate of it, and both died. [19] 1 In the Calcutta text, the king asks Sindibad why the prince had kept silence during these seven days, and the sage replies in terms similar to the above, that he had foreseen the danger he should be in if he spoke ; yet in the introduction it is stated that the king was warned of this danger by the sage, and took pre- cautions to avert it by secluding the prince in the women's apartments. (See note 2, page 135.) - Sour curds. 214 THE SEVEN VAZIRS. "Whose, then, was the fault?" asked the prince: " the girl's, who left the vessel uncovered ? or her master's, who gave the laban to his guest?" Some said it was the master's fault, because he did not examine the laban first. The prince replied: "No one w-as in fault; their time was come and their resi- dence in this world at an end. Had my death taken place, no one would have been guilty but my father's concubine."' When the assembly heard this, all were astonished at the prince's eloquence and wisdom, and raised their voices in applause, saying : " O sultan, thy son is most accomplished!" Then the sultan commanded a ponderous stone to be tied to the feet of the artful and wicked concubine, and she was cast into the sea. The tutor was rewarded, and invested with an em- broidered robe of great value. The sultan delighted in his son, and abdicating his throne, gave it up to the prince, who made all happy by his justice and clemency. APPENDIX. APPENDIX. Belief in the Asiatic origin of many of the Fables and Tales of domestic life which afforded instruction and entertainment to the Middle Ages has for some time prevailed, and of late years the proofs have been multiplied by the industry- of Oriental scholars. The evidence adduced has been of the most positive description. It is not built on probabilities, upon general and indefinite analogies, or on partial and accidental resemblances, but upon actual identities. Although modifications have been practised, names altered, scenes changed, circumstances added or omitted, we can still discover the sameness of the fundamental outline ; and, amidst all the mystifications of the masquerade, lay our hands, without hesitation, upon the authentic individual. ^Z'r. //. H. Wilson (\Za,o).- No. I— p. 15. The Camel, the Wolf, the Fox, and the Pumpkin. Professor E. B. Cowell, of Cambridge, in an interesting paper contributed to the Welsh Society's journal ( Y Cymmrodor), October, 1882, has adduced a number of variants of this tale, together with its oldest (Buddhistic) form, from which, with his kind permission, I make the following extracts : " Readers of the Mabinogion will remember the curious legend of the oldest known animals, which is found in the story of Kilhwch and Olwen. We read there how Arthur's ambassadors went successively in search of tidings about Mabon the son of Modron, to the ousel of Cilgwri, the stag of Redynvre, the owl of Cwm Cawlwyd, the eagle of Gwern Abwy, and, finally, the salmon of Llyn Llyw, and each in turn gave some fresh proof of 2i8 APPENDIX. its greater age than its predecessors, but still referred the ques- tion to some animal of still more venerable antiquity than itself. Ap Gwilym, however, alludes to another version of the story, which, I am inclined to think, preserves an older form of this wide-spread piece of folk-lore. In his poem, Yr Oed, where he describes himself as waiting and waiting under the thorn for his faithless mistress, he says : A thousand persons and more liken me To him who dwelt in Gwernabwj- ; In truth I should not be an eagle at all. Except for my waiting for my fair lad)- three generations of men ; I am exactl)' like the stag In Cilgwri, for my beloved ; Of the same colour, graj' to my thinking, As my bedfellow (the owl) in Cwm Cawh^yd. Here we have only three animals instead of the five in the Mabinogi ; and, as far as I can trace the story in Eastern litera- ture, three is the usual number given, however the species of the animals themselves may vary. The legend itself, like so many other popular stories, came to Europe originally from India, and probably passed, together with Buddhism, into other countries. Its oldest known form is found in the CuUa Vagga portion of the Vinayapitaka, one of the oldest parts of the Buddhist sacred books; and another version of it is given in the first volume of the Jatakas, lately translated by Mr. T. W. Rhys Davids. The former version, a translation of which I subjoin, can hardly be later than the third century B.C. The Partridge^ the Mo?ikey, and the Elephant. Long ago there was a great banyan tree on the slope of the Himalaya mountains, and three friends dwelt near it — a par- tridge, a monkey, and an elephant. They were disrespectful and discourteous to one another, and did not live harmoniously together. Then it occurred to them: "Oh, if we could but THE CAMEL, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX. 219 know which of us is the eldest, we could honour him and respect him, and show him duty and reverence, and abide by his exhortations. " Then the partridge and the monkey asked the elephant: "What is the oldest thing, friend, that you re- member?" "Friends," he replied, "when I was a child I used to walk over this banyan tree, keeping it between my thighs, and its topmost shoot touched my belly. This is the oldest thing that I remember. " Then the partridge and the ele- phant asked the monkey : "What is the oldest thing, friend, that you remember?" "Friends, when I was a child I used to sit on the ground and eat the topmost shoot of this banyan. This is the oldest thing that I remember." Then the monkey and the elephant asked the partridge: "What is the oldest thing, friend, that you remember?" " Friends, in yonder place there was once a certain great banyan tree ; I ate a fruit from it and voided it in this spot, and from it sprang this banyan. There- fore, friends, I am older than either of you. " Then the monkey and the elephant thus addressed the partridge: "You, friend, are the oldest of us all ; we will honour and respect you, and will show you duty and reverence, and will abide by your exhortations. " Then the partridge stirred them up in the five moral duties, and also took those duties upon himself. They were respectful and courteous to one another, and lived har- moniously together, and after the dissolution of their bodies they were reborn happily in heaven. " The same apologue occurs in the seventeenth of the Avaddnas, or Indian apologues, translated by Julien from the Chinese.— A curiously distorted version of the Buddhist legend is found in the Uttara-kanda of the Sanskrit Rdvidyana, the later book which was added to the Rdmdyana to explain and amplify the brief allusions to eariier events which had been left obscure in the original poem. There we read that a vulture and an owl, who had lived in a certain wood from time im- memorial, quarrelled about the possession of a certain cave, APPENDIX. each claiming it to be his by ancient right. They eventually agreed to bring the matter before Rama for his decision. On his asking them how long each claimed to have had the cave as a dwelling, the vulture replied : ' It has been my home ever since this earth was first filled with men newly come into being;' while the owl rejoined: 'It has been my home ever since this earth was first adorned with trees.' Rama then decided that the cave properly belonged to the owl, as trees and plants were originally produced before the creation of man- kind from the marrow of two demons slain by Vishnu, whence the earth was called Mcdini (from vicda, marrow). Here we have only two animals introduced ; Rama, however, as the umpire, occupies the place of the third. But," adds Professor Covvell, "we find the triad of interlocutors reappearing in the version of the story given in the Sindilnld A\ui/n. This story reproduces the old dialogue, but the animals are changed, and a new point is added at the end." But there is another form of the legend, current in Europe since the I2th century, in which men are substituted for animals, and which in one particular closely resembles the version in our text, namely, the well-known story of the Three Dreamers and the Loaf. In this form it seems to have been derived from the Arabian fabulists by Peter Alphonsus, who has related it, in his Disciplina CIcricalis (fab. 17), as follows: Tlie Three Travellers and tlie Loaf. It is related of two citizens and a countryman, going to Mecca, that they shared provisions till they reached there, and then their food failed, so that nothing remained save so much flour as would make a single loaf, and that a small one. The citizens seeing this said to each other: "We have too little bread, and our companion eats a great deal. Wherefore we ought to have a plan to take away from him part of the loaf, and eat it by THE CAMEL, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX. 22 T ourselves alone." Accordingly a plan of this sort proved accept- able : to make and bake the loaf, and while it was being baked to sleep, and whoever of them saw the most wonderful things in a dream should eat the loaf alone. These words they spoke artfully, as they thought the rustic too simple for inventions of this sort. They made the loaf and baked it, and at length lay down to sleep. But the rustic, more crafty than they thought, whilst his companions were asleep, took the half-baked loaf, ate it up, and again lay down. One of the citizens, as if terrified out of his sleep, awoke, and called his companion, who inquired: "What is the matter?" He said: "I have seen a wondrous vision ; for it seemed to me that two angels opened the gates of Paradise, and led me within. " Then his companion said to him : " That is a wondrous vision you have seen ; but I dreamed that two angels took me, and, cleaving the earth, led me to the lower ref^ions." All this the countryman heard, and pretended to be asleep ; but the citizens, being deceived and wishing to deceive, called on him to awake. But the rustic replied cunningly, and as though he were terrified: "Who are they that call me?" Then they said : "We are your companions." But he replied : "Have you returned already?" To this they rejoined : "Where did we go, that we should return?" Then the rustic said : "Now it seemed to me that two angels took one of you, and opened the gates of heaven and led him within ; then two others took the other and opened the earth and took him to hell; and seeing this, I thought that neither of you would return any more, and I rose and ate the loaf." From Alphonsus— who may have obtained it from the Historia Jeshuac Nazareni, a scurrilous life of the Saviour, of Jewish in- vention, where it also occurs— this version was taken into the Gcsta Romanorum, and at a later period Cinthio, the Italian novelist, introduced it into his Hecatommiihi , where the charac- ters are a philosopher, an astrologer, and a soldier. The tale 222 APPENDIX. has long been popular in our own country — a well-worn "Joe Miller,'' of an Englishman, a Scotchman, and an Irishman who travelled in company; the conventional Irishman "dreamt he was hungry, and got up and ate the loaf." No. II — p. 27. The King of the Monkeys. A VARIANT of this tale is found in the Pancha Tantra, Sect, v, Fab. 10, to the following effect : The sons of a certain King Chandra used to feed a herd of monkeys. There was likewise at their court a herd of rams. One of the latter, a glutton, was in the habit of going to the kitchen to devour whatever he saw, and the cooks always beat him. The monkey king reflected that the quarrel between the ram and the cooks must lead to the destruction of the monkeys, because, if the cooks some day beat him with a burning log of wood, his wool would catch fire, he would run into the horses' stable close by, set fire to the stable, and cause injury to the horses ; and as their wounds can only be healed by monkeys' fat, the monkeys will have to suffer. So he advised his tribe to go to the woods. They refuse, and as their king's prediction is eventually fulfilled, he vows revenge on King Chandra, and induces him to go with his suite to a certain pond where pearl necklaces are to be procured. In that pond all the suite are devoured by a Rakshasa, whereupon the monkey king, climbing on a tree, tells King Chandra of the revenge he has taken on him. No. Ill — pp. 31 and 141. The Merchant, his Wife, and the Parrot. There must be few readers who are not familiar with this story through the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, but it was popular several centuries before that celebrated collection was rendered THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. 223 into English from Galland's French translation, as it is one of the tales of the Scz'cn Wise Masters and the Seven Sages, old English prose and metrical versions of the Historia Septem SapientHiit Roiine, or of Dolopathos, which are Latin and French adaptations of the Book of Sindibad. In our common version of the Thousand and One Nights, the Story of the Parrot is told (in the introduction) by King Yunan, when his counsellers urged him to put the sage Duban to death; but in the Bulaq and Calcutta printed Arabic texts, the king says : " I should repent after it, as King Sindibad repented of killing his falcon ;" then follows the well-known story of the king who killed his falcon, under the mistaken idea that it had, from mere wantonness, repeatedly dashed from his hand the cup of spring water, when he was about to drink, and afterwards found that a venomous serpent lay coiled at the spring-head. ^ The 68th chapter of Swan's Gesta Romanoriun seems imitated from the Story of the Parrot : A certain king had a fair but vicious wife. It happened that her husband having occasion to travel, the lady sent for her gallant, and rioted in every excess of wickedness. Now one of her handmaids, it seems, was skilful in interpreting the song of birds, and in the court of the castle there were three cocks. During the night, while the gallant was with his mistress, the first cock began to crow. The lady heard it, and said to her servant: "Dear friend, what says yonder cock?" She replied: "That you are grossly injuring your husband." "Then," said the lady, "kill that cock without delay." They did so, but soon after, the second cock crew, and the lady repeated her question. "Madam," 'This story also occurs in the A>ivar-i Snhayli, or Lights of Canopus, a Persian version, by Husain Vii'iz, of the work generally known in Europe as the Fables of Pilpay. Mr Lane thought fit in his admirable translation to substitute for this tale that of the Merchant and the Parrot, although in his (the Bulaq) text it is found in its proper place, in the tales of the Seven Vtizirs. 2 24 APPENDIX. said the handmaid, "he says, 'My companion died for reveal- ing the truth, and for the same cause I am prepared to die.'" "Kill him!" cried the lady, which they did. After this, the third cock crew. " What says he?" asked she again. " Hear, see, and say nothing, if you would live in peace." "Oh, don''t kill him," said the lady. The frame, or leading story, of the Persian collection of Nakhshabi, entitled, TFiti Ndnia, Parrot-Book, or Tales of a Parrot, is similar to our tale : A man bought, for a large sum of money, a wonderful parrot, that could talk eloquently and intelligently, and shortly afterwards, a sharyk — a species of nightingale, according to Gerrans, "which imitates the human voice in so surprising a manner, that, if you do not see the bird, you cannot help being deceived " — and put it in the same cage with the parrot. When he was about to set out on a distant journey, he told his wife, that, whenever she had any important affair to transact, she must hrst ask the advice of the parrot and the sharyk, and do nothing without their sanction. Some months after he was gone, his wife saw from the roof of her house a very handsome young prince pass along the street with his attendants, and immediately became enamoured of him. The prince also perceived the lady, and sent an old woman to solicit an assigna- tion with her on the same evening. The lady consents to meet him, and having arrayed herself in her finest apparel, proceeds to the cage, and first consults the sharyk upon the propriety of her intended intrigue ; but the bird forbade her to go, upon which the lady in a rage seized the faithful bird, and dashed it on the ground, so that it instantly died. She then represented her case to the parrot, who, having witnessed the fate of his unhappy companion, prudently resolved to temporise with the amorous dame, and accordingly "commiserated her situation, quenched the fire of mdignation with the water of flattery, and began a tale conformable to her temperament," which he took care to protract till morning. In this manner, night after night, the THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. 225 parrot contrives to keep the lady at home until her husband's return. — The first story the parrot relates, according to Gerrans (and also in Kaderi's abridgment ; but it is the 5th in MS. No. 2573, in the India Office), is of a merchant, who, having occasion to travel, left his wife and house in charge of a sagacious parrot — a cockatoo, according to Gerrans. During his absence his wife had an intrigue with a young man, who came to the house every evening ; but on the merchant's return, the discreet bird, while giving a faithful account of all other transactions, said not a word in reference to the lady's merry pranks. The husband soon hears of them, however, from his neighbours, and punishes his wife. Suspecting the parrot to have blabbed, the lady goes at night to the cage, takes out the bird, plucks off all its feathers, and throws it into the street. In the morning, when the merchant misses his favourite bird, she tells him that a cat had carried it away, but he discredits her story, and thrusts her out of doors. Meantime the parrot had taken up his abode in a burying-ground, to which the poor wife now also retires ; and the parrot advises her to shave her head and remain there fasting during forty days, after which she should be reconciled to her husband. This she does, and at the end of the prescribed period the parrot goes to his old master, and upbraids him with his cruel treatment of his innocent wife, adding that she had been fasting forty days in the burying-ground. The merchant hastens to seek his wife, asks her forgiveness, and they live together ever afterwards in perfect harmony. "In like manner," adds the story-telling parrot, " I shall conceal your secret from your husband, or make your peace with him if he should find it out." The Tii//" .V(7/«(j' of NakhshabT was composed about A, D. 1320; it was preceded, according to Pertsch, by a similar Persian work, by an unknown author, which was based upon a Sanskrit book, now lost, of which the Suka Saptaii, Seventy Tales of a Parrot, is only an abstract, and other sources. And here the question is suggested : Was the Sindibad story of the Husband and the I' 2 26 APPENDIX. Parrot imitated or adapted from the frame, or leading tale, of the original Sanskrit Parrot-Book, or was the idea of the latter taken, from the Book of Sindibad? However this may be, the principal story of the Tilti Ndma presents some points of re- semblance to incidents in one of the numerous legends of the famous hero Rasalu, which are current in the Panjab, namely, the story of Raja Sirikop and Rasalu, kindly communicated to me by General James Abbott, from a small work which he had printed for private circulation, at Calcutta, in 1851. The conclusion of this legend seems to be the original of our old European tale of the cruel knight who caused the heart of his wife's paramour to be dressed and served up to her for supper. Rasalu, having slain the inhuman Raja Sirikop, who played at dice for the heads of his guests, took away his infant daughter Kokla, and, when she was of age, married her. The Rana KokJa had seldom the society of her husband, as he was pas- sionately devoted to the chase, but he left behind him, as spies upon her conduct, two birds, which could talk intelligently, a parrot and a mina, or hill starling. While Rasalu was absent on a hunting excursion, his young and lonely bride was seated at her window one day, when the handsome Riija Hodi chanced to see her as he rode past. "And she saw him, and he took the place which Rasalu had left vacant in her heart. . . So Rana Kokla threw him down a rope, which she tied firmly to the balcony. And Raja Hodi clambered up to the balcony by this rope, and entered the chamber of Rana Kokla. And the mina exclaimed : 'What wickedness is this?' Then Hodi went straight to the mina's cage and wrung its neck. So the parrot, taking warning, said : 'The steed of Rasalu is swift ; what if he should surprise you? Let me out of my cage, and I will fly over the palace, and will inform you the instant he appears in sight.' And Kokla said: 'O excellent bird! do even as thou hast said,' and she released the bird from its cage. Then the parrot flew swift as an arrow to Dumtiir, and alighting upon Rasalu's THE WOMAN AND THE PARROT. 227 shoulder, as he hunted the stag, exclaimed: 'O Raja, a cat is at your cream! ' " The sequel is nearly identical with the catastrophe of the story in Boccaccio's Decameron, Day iv, Nov. 9, and the French tradition of Raoul de Coucy and the Lady of Fayel.— It is possible that the two birds of Rasalu may have suggested the frame of the Sanskrit prototype of the Tilti Ndina. At all events, the legends of Rasalu and other ancient Indian heroes have been time out of mind the stock-in-trade of the wandering bards of the Panjab, from whom General Abbott obtained this wild tale, among many others.^ Wonderfully-gifted parrots are the principal characters in many of the Hindu tales. The facility with which this bird imitates human speech, together with the doctrine of metempsychosis — and the allied notion of a person being able by magical power to transfer his own soul into the dead body of any animal or bird, upon which, for example, the romance of King Vikram is based — probably induced the fablers of India to adopt the parrot as the favourite character in their fictions. But apart from the marvellous parrot of Oriental romance, it would appear from the accounts of grave authors. Western as well as Eastern, that the bird is not only capable of repeating words and phrases which it has been taught, but is possessed of considerable intel- ligence. Locke, in his Essay on the Human Understanding, relates a curious anecdote of a parrot which answered rationally several questions which it was asked by Prince Maurice, one of which was: "What do you there {i.e. at Marignan)?" The parrot replied : " I look after the chickens. " The prince laughed, and said: ''You look after the chickens!" to which the parrot replied: "Yes, I; and I know well enough how to do it,'" at the same time clucking in imitation of the noise made by the hen to ' In August last jear (1883) Captain R. C. Temple, Cantonment Magis- trate at Ambala, Panjab, commenced the issue, in monthly parts (Trubner & Co., London), of "The Legends of the Panjab," a work which must prove invaluable to students of comparative folk-lore. 2 28 APPENDIX. call together her young ones. — Willoughby tells of a parrot which, when one said, "Laugh, Poll, laugh," laughed, accord- ingly, and the instant after screamed out, "What a fool you are to make me laugh!" Rhodiginus mentions a parrot that could recite correctly the whole of the Apostles' Creed, and of another that could repeat a sonnet from Petrarch. But these feats dwindle into insignificance when compared with the accomplish- ments of parrots referred to by the Arabian historian El-Ishaki (cited by Lane, looi Nights, i, p. in, note 22), one of which could repeat the 36th chapter of the Qur'an, the other recited the whole of the Qur'an ! — Goldsmith relates that a parrot be- longing to Henry VII, having been kept in a room next to the Thames, in his palace at Westminster, had learned to repeat many sentences from the boatmen and passengers. One day, sporting on its perch, it fell into the water. The bird had no sooner discovered its situation than it called out: "A boat! twenty pounds for a boat ! " A waterman, happening to be near the place where the parrot was floating, immediately took it up and restored it to the king, demanding, as the bird was a favourite, that he should be paid the reward it had called out. This was refused; but it was agreed that, as the parrot had offered a reward, the man should again refer to its determina- tion for the sum he was to receive. * ' Give the knave a groat ! " the bird screamed the instant the reference was made. No. IV— pp. 35 and 148, The Double Infidelity. A VARIANT — possibly the original — of this widely-diffused story is found in the Hitopadesa, Book ii, Fable, 7, as follows : "In the town of Dwaravati a certain farmer had a wife, a woman of loose conduct, who used to amuse herself with the magistrate of the town and with his son. One day, as she sat THE DOUBLE INFIDELITY. 229 diverting herself with the magistrate's son, the magistrate hunself arrived. When she saw him, she shut his son in the cupboard, and began sporting in the same manner with the magistrate. In the meantime, the herdsman her husband returned from the fold. On seeing him, she said: 'O magistrate, do you, taking your staff, and putting on the appearance of anger, depart with haste. This was done ; and now the herdsman, coming up, asked his wife- 'Wherefore came the magistrate here?' She replied: « For some cause or other, he is angry with his son, who, running away, came here, and entered the house. Him I have made safe in the cupboard. His father, seeking him, and not finding him m the house, is therefore going off in a rage. ' Then having made the youth come out of the cupboard, she showed him to her husband. The 9th tale of the Disciplina Clerkalis of Peter Alphonsus is evidently a modification of the story : " In former times there was a good man, who, on setting out on a distant journey, left his wife in charge of her mother. This old woman brought to the house a young man whom her daughter loved. It happened that, while they were seated at table, the husband returned unexpectedly and knocked at the door. The young woman rose to open the door to her husband. But the mother (who lived with the friend of her daughter) did not know what to do, because there was no place in which to hide him. So, while the daughter was opening the door to her husband, the old woman took a drawn sword and handed it to the youth, and told him to stand with it drawn at the door; and if the husband said anything to him, he should answer nothing. The youth did as the old woman told him ; and when the door was opened, the husband of the girl saw him, and he stood quite still, and said: 'Who art thou?' He did not say a word, but held the drawn sword in his hand, and the husband was per- plexed at this. The old woman said to him : ' Fair son, be quiet; let none hear you.' Then the husband wondered more than before, and said : ' Fair lady, who is he?' The old woman APPENDIX. said to him : ' Three men were following him just now ; we opened the door and let him enter here, and because he feared lest you be one of them, he will not answer you.' ' Lady,' said the husband, ' you did well ; ' and he entered and called to the lover of his wife, and caused him to dine with him. " This is also one of the Fabliaux ; but it must have been from another version, more closely resembling the Sindibad tale, that Boccaccio derived his story of the lady of Florence and her two lovers {Decameron, Day vii, Nov. 6): To the one called Leonetto she was much attached; but the other, Lambertuccio, only procured her good-will by the power which he possessed, in con- sequence of his high rank and influence, of doing her an injury. While residing at a country seat, the husband of this lady left her for a few days, and on his departure she sent for Leonetto to bear her company. Lambertuccio, also hearing of the absence of the husband, came to the villa soon after the arrival of her favoured lover. Scarcely had Leonetto been concealed, and Lambertuccio occupied his place, when the husband unexpectedly knocked at the outer gate. At the earnest entreaty of his mistress, Lambertuccio runs down with a drawn sword in his hand, and rushes out of the house, exclaiming : "If ever I meet the villain again 1 " Leonetto is then brought forth from concealment, and the husband is informed, and believes, that he had sought refuge in his villa from the fury of Lambertuccio, who, having met him on the road, had pursued him with an intention of putting him to death. — Dimlop. From Boccaccio the story was reproduced in Tarltoii's Ncwes out of Piirgatorie (a catchpenny book), printed about 1590; and eleven years later Samuel Rowlands turned it into verse, in his Knave of Clnhs, under the title of "The Cuckold:" the lady's lovers are a courtier and a captain ;— the former is hidden away on the arrival of the son of Mars, who, when the lady hears that her husband is coming, is instructed how to comport himself in his retreat : THE DOUBLE INFIDELITY. 231 So downe the staires he goes, With rapier drawne, such feareful looks he showes, The cuckold trembles to behould the sight, And up he comes, as he had met some spright. Ah, wife, said he, what creature did I meete ? Hath he done anj- harme to thee, my sweete ? A verier ruffian I did never see ; The sight of him hath almost distracted me. My loving husband, as I heere sate sowing. Thinking no harme, or any evill knowing, A gentleman comes up the staires amaine. Crying, Oh, helpe me, or I shall be slaine : I of compassion, husband (life is deere). Under your bed in pitty hid him heere ; His foe sought for him with his rapier drawne. While I with teares did wash this peece of lawne. But when he saw he could not finde him out (After he tossed all my things about). He went downe swaggering even as you met him. My saving the poore man so much did fret him. A blessed deede, quoth he ; it prooves thee wise : Alas ! the gentleman uneasie lies ; Wife, call him forth ; I hope all danger 's past ; Good Bettris, looke that all the doores be fast. Sir, you are welcome to my house, I vow, I joy it is your sanctuary now. And count myself most happy in the thing. That such good fortune did }0u hither bring. Sir, said the courtier, hearty thanks I give, I will requite your kindness if I live. But the Story had found its way into an English jest-book many years before its appearance in Tarltoii's Nerves, even before Boccaccio's tales were translated in Paynter's Palace of Pleasure. In Tales and Qidcke Ansxoeres, very Pleasant and Mery to Rede, 1535, it is told of an innkeeper's wife near Florence. While she was entertaining one lover, another came ' ' up the ladder," and she bade him be off. " But for all her words, he would not go away, but still pressed to come in. .So long they stood chiding that the good-man came upon them, and asked 232 APPENDIX. them why they bawled so. The woman, not unprovided with a deceitful answer, said : Sir, this man would come in perforce to slay or mischief another that is fled into our house for succour, and hitherto I have kept him back. — When he that was within heard her say so, he began to pluck up his heart, and say he would be revenged on him without. And he that was without made a face as he would kill him that was within. — The foolish man her husband inquired the cause of their debate, and took upon him to set them at one. And so the good silly man spake and made the peace between them, yea, and farther, he gave them a gallon of wine. " In all the Eastern texts, excepting the Persian and Scott's versions, the story of the D ouble I nfidelity is preceded by another, related by the same vazir : The Infected Loaves. A certain man was very particular in his food, and could not eat anything that he suspected to be unclean. In the course of a trading journey he came to a town, and sent his servant to buy some bread. The servant returned with two loaves, which his master relished so much that he told him always to procure him the same bread. This he did for some time (25 days, according to the Breslau text), until one day the servant returned without any bread, saying that the woman of whom he had hitherto bought the loaves had no more to sell. The merchant then sends for the woman, and asks her how the bread she had sold his servant was so pleasantly flavoured. She explains, to the infinite disgust of the man who was so particular in his food — and doubtless the explanation will be not less disgusting to the reader — that her master had suffered from blisters on his back, for which the doctor prescribed a poultice of flour mixed with honey and oil ; — she took the poultice each day, when it was removed for a fresh one, and made it into a loaf, which the THE TWO PARTRIDGES. 233 merchant's servant had bought of her daily. But now that her master was cured (in the Breslau text he was dead), she could supply no more loaves. No. V— pp. 37 and 144. The Fuller and his Son. In three other Arabic texts of the Sam VazTrs, this rather pointless story— which, however, belongs to the original Book of Sindibad— is followed by a second related by the Damsel, of The Blackguard,^ who devised a diabolical plan to procure the disgrace of a mer- chant's wife, whose virtue he had unsuccessfully attempted. The story is very objectionable in its details, and must therefore be passed over. No. VI— p. 39- The Two Partridges. This is a very different story from that of the Two Pigeons as found in the Syriac, Greek, Hebrew, and old Castilian versions, yet it may— Comparetti's opinion to the contrary notwith- standing-be the older form. The story of the Two Pigeons is omitted in all the Arabic texts of the Seven VazTrs. It reappears, as follows, in the Anvdr-i Suhayli: The Two Figeons. They have related that a pair of pigeons had collected some grains of corn in the beginning of summer, and stored them up I Alffisik : a worthless, impudent fellow ; a scoundrel, etc. 234 APPENDIX. in a retired place as a hoard for winter. Now that corn was moist, and when summer drew to a close, the heat of the atmo- sphere had such an effect upon the corn, that it dried up, and appeared less than it did at first. During these days the male pigeon was absent from home. When he came back and observed that the corn appeared to be less in quantity, he began to reproach his partner, and said : "We had laid up this grain for our food in winter, so that when the cold became excessive, and from the quantity of snow, no corn was to be found on the fields, we might support ourselves with this. At this time, when pickings are to be met with in mountain and plain, why hast thou eaten our supplies? and why hast thou swerved from the path of prudence? Hast thou not heard, pray, that the sages have said : Now that thou hast food in plenty, Do thy hest it up to store, That thou may'st still have abundance When the harvest-time is o'er." The female pigeon said : " I have eaten none of this grain, nor have I used any of it in any way whatever. " As the male pigeon saw that the grain had decreased, he did not believe her denial, and pecked her till she died. Afterwards, in the winter, when the rain fell incessantly, and the marks of dampness were evident on door and wall, the grain imbibed moisture and returned to its former state. The male pigeon then discovered what had been the cause of the apparent loss, and began to lament and to bewail his separation from his affectionate partner. Thus he wept bitterly, and said : " Grievous is this absence of my friend, and more grievous still that repentance is unavailing. With prudence act, for haste will cause thee pain And loss, and to regret the lost is vain." And the moral of this story is, that it behoves a wise man not to be precipitate in inflicting punishment, lest, like the pigeon, he suffer from the anguish of separation. THE PRINCE AND THE GHUL. 235 In the Syriac, Greek, and old Castilian versions, the vazir who relates the story of the Two Pigeons has for his second a rather stupid tale, which may be entitled The Bread Elephant. A ploughman's wife was bringing him some bread in a basket when she was met in the forest by a robber, who, having first conversed with her, ate up all her bread, excepting a small portion which he made into the form of an elephant, slipped it into her basket, and then let her go. When she reached the field where her husband was ploughing, and opened the basket, she discovered the robber's trick, and, to excuse herself, told her husband that she had dreamt some evil threatened him, which might be averted by his eating a small image of an elephant made of bread. — The story is also found in the Siika SaptatJ and Nakhshabl's Tuti Nania. No. VII — pp. 50 and 150. The Prince and the Ghul. The pretended damsel's account of herself differs materially in the Persian text from that in the Sci'cn Vazirs and other versions. In the Persian she represents herself as having become enam- oured of the prince from seeing his beauty from the terrace of her mansion ; then she "points to her abode," and they proceed "till they reach a desolate spot. " This is certainly not quite so plausible as what she says in the Arabic texts — that she fell from her litter on the way to be married to a certain prince. The conclusion, too, varies quite as much, so far as we possess it in the Persian MS. — In the old Castilian version the Damsel introduces this tale of the "female devil" by warning the king, most absurdly, that his vazirs would kill him, ^^ as a vazTr once killed a /dug," since it relates that the son of the king was not 236 APPENDIX. killed, but returned in safety to his father. — In the Hebrew version the story of the Changed Sex is fused with this tale. The Shah's own Story-teller gave Sir John Malcolm the follow- ing account of the nature and habits of ghuls, while "the Elchee" and his suite were passing through one of their favourite haunts : "The natural shape of these monsters is terrible, but they can assume those of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform their shapes, but their voices also are altered. The frightful screams and yells which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines are changed for the softest and most melodious notes ; unwary travellers, deluded by the appear- ance of friends, or captivated by the forms, or charmed by the music of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few hours on every luxury are consigned to destruc- tion. The number of these ghuls, " added the worthy Hajji, "has greatly decreased since the birth of the Prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in sincerity and faith. " {Sketches of Persia, ch. xvi.)— In Russian Folk Tales the Baba Yagas perform the part of Ghuls, Rakshasas, etc. Luckily for their intended victims, they are endowed with but a small store of intellect, and are generally outwitted by the interesting heroes and heroines. No. VIII— p. 56. The Snake and the Cat. It is somewhat strange that this story should be omitted in the Sr^en VazTrs, and yet form one of the four tales of the Sn^en Sages which are common to all the Eastern texts of the Book of Sindibad. The story is thus related in a black-letter copy (pre- served in the Glasgow University Library) of the Seven Wise Masters, the old English prose translation, by Copland, of the THE SNAKE AND THE CAT. 237 Scptem Sapicntum Roincr, or of a French rendering of it ; where it is told by the First Master : The Knight and the Greyhound. There was a vaHant knight which had one only son, the which he loved so much, that he ordained for his keepers three nowr- ishers. The first should give him suck, and feed him. The second should wash him, and keep him clean : and the third should bring him to his sleep and rest. The knight had also a greyhound and a falcon, which he also loved right well. The greyhound was so good, that he never run at any game, but he took it, and held it till his master came. And if his master disposed him to go into any battel, if he should not speed therein, anone as he should mount upon his horse, the greyhound would take the horse-tail in his mouth, and draw backward, and would also cry and howl marvelouslie loud. By these signs, and the due observation thereof, the knight did always under- stand that his journey should have very ill success. The falcon was so gentle and hardy, that he was never cast off to his prey but he took it. The same knight had much pleasure in justing and tourney, so that upon a time under his castle he proclaimed a tourna- ment, to the which came many great lords and knights. The knight entered into the tourney, and his ladie went with her maidens to see it: and as they went out, after went the nowr- ishers, and left the child lying alone there in the cradle, in the hall : where the greyhound lay near the wall, and the hawk or falcon standing upon a perch. In this hall there was a serpent lurking, or hid in a hole, to all them of the castle unknown, the which when he perceived that they were all absent, he put his head out of his hole, and when he saw none but the child lying in the cradle, he went out of his hole towards the cradle, for to have slain the child. The noble falcon perceivmg that, and he beholding the greyhound that was sleeping, made such a noise 238 APPENDIX. and rustling with her wings presently, that the greyhound awoke, and rose up ; and when he saw the serpent nigh the child, anone against him he leapt, and they both fought so long together, until that the serpent had grievously hurt and wounded the greyhound, that he bled so sore, that the earth about the cradle was all bloody. The greyhound, when that he felt himself grievously wounded and hurt, start fiercely upon the serpent, and fought so sore together, and so eagerly, that between them the cradle was overcast with the child, the bottome upward. And because that the cradle had four pomels like feet, falling towards the earth, they saved the childs life and his visage from any hurt. What can be more exprest to make good the wonder in the preservation of the child? Incontinently hereafter, with great pain the greyhound overcame and slew the serpent, and laid him down again in his place, and licked his wounds. And anon alter the justs and tourney was done, the nowrishers came first into the castle, and as they saw the cradle turned the up side down upon the earth, compassed round about with blood: and that the greyhound was also bloody, they thought and said amongst themselves, that the greyhound had slain the child : and were not so wise as to turn up the cradle again with the child, for to have seen what was thereof befallen. But they said. Let us run away, lest that our master should put or lay the blame upon us, and so slay us. As they were thus running away, they met the knight's wife, and she said unto them. Wherefore make ye this sorrow, and whither will ye run ? Then said they, O lady, wo and sorrow be to us, and to you. Why, said she, what is there happened? show me. The greyhound, they said, that our lord and master loved so well, hath devoured and slain your son, and lyeth by the wall all full of blood. As the lady heard this, she presently fell to the earth, and began to weep and cry piteouslie, and said, Alace, O my dear son, are ye slain and dead? What shall I now do, that I have mine only son thus lost? Wherewithal came in the knight from the THE SNAKE AND THE CAT. 239 tourney, beholding his lady thus crying and making sorrow, he demanded of her wherefore she made so great sorrow and lamentation. She answered him, O my lord, that greyhound that you have loved so much hath slain your only son, and lyeth by the wall, satiated with the blood of the child. The knight, very exceeding angry, went into the hall, and the grey- hound went to meet him, and did fawn upon him, as he was wont to do, and the knight drew out his sword, and with one stroke smote oft" the greyhound's head, and then he went to the cradle where the child lay, and found his son all whole, and by the cradle the serpent slain ; and then by diverse signs he per- ceived that the greyhound had killed the serpent for the defence of the child. Then with great sorrow and weeping he tare his hair, and said. Wo be to me, that for the words of my wife, I have slain my good and best greyhound, the which hath saved my child's life, and hath slain the serpent : therefore I will put myself to penance : and so he brake his sword in three pieces, and went towards the Holy Land, and abode there all the days of his life. This story occurs in all the Western texts of the Seven Wise Masters, also in the Anglican Gesta Eoinanoruiii ; — see Madden's old English versions, edited for the Roxburghe Club [xxvi], p. 86. A wolf takes the place of the snake in the well-known Welsh legend, which Edward Jones, in his Musical Relics of the Welsh Bards, vol. i, gives as follows: "There is a general tradition in North Wales that a wolf had entered the house of Prince Llywelyn. Soon after, the prince returned home, and going into the nursery, he met his dog Kilihart all bloody and wagging hi^ tail at him. Prince Llywelyn, on entering the room, found the cradle where his child lay overturned and the floor flowing with blood : imagining that the greyhound had killed the child, he immediately drew his sword and stabbed it ; then turning up the cradle found under it the child alive and the wolf dead. This so 240 APPENDIX. grieved the prince that he erected a tomb over his faithful dog's grave, where afterwards the parish church was built, and goes by the name Bedd Gelbart (the grave of Killhart), in Caernar- vonshire. From this incident is derived a very common Welsh proverb : ' I repent as much as the man who slew his greyhound. ' Prince Llywelyn ab Jowerth," adds Jones, "married Joan, a daughter of King John by Agatha, daughter of Robert Ferrers Earl of Derby, and this dog was a present to the prince from his father-in-law, about the year 1205."— A curious instance, surely, of the transformation of an ancient Indian tale ! The Dog and Snake version reappears in the Italian novels of Sansovino (Day ix, N. i), in Dolopafhos and Erasto, and also in the Facetieuses Journecs, and its oldest form is perhaps found in the Pancha Tantra, section v, fable 2 : The Snake and tlie IcJineunion. There was a Brahman, named Deva Sarma, whose wife had one son ; she had also a favourite ichneumon that she brought up with the infant, and cherished like another child. At the same time, she was afraid that the animal would, some time or other, do the child a mischief, knowing its treacherous nature, as it is said: "A son, though ill-tempered, ugly, stupid, and wicked, is still the source of delight to a father's heart. " One day the mother, going forth to fetch water, placed the child in the bed, and desired her husband to guard the infant, especially from the ichneumon. She then departed, and after a while the Brahman himself was obliged to go forth to collect alms. When the house was thus deserted, a black snake came out of a hole, and crawled towards the bed where the infant lay ; the ichneumon, who saw him, impelled by his natural animosity, and by regard for his foster- brother, instantly attacked him, and, after a furious encounter, tore him to pieces. Pleased with his prowess and the service he had rendered, he ran to meet his mistress on her return home, his jaws and face besmeared with blood. As soon as the Brah- THE LIBERTINE HUSBAND. 24 1 man's wife beheld him, she was convinced that he had killed her child, and in her rage and agitation she threw the water-jar at the ichneumon with all her force, and killed him on the spot. She then rushed into the house, where she found the child still asleep, and the body of a venomous snake torn in pieces at the foot of the bed. She then perceived the error she had com- mitted, and beat her breast and face with grief for the unmerited fate of her faithful little favourite. In this state her husband found her on his return. When he had told her the cause of his absenting himself, she reproached him bitterly for that greedy desire of profit, which had caused all the mischief. In the Hitopadesa, the woman goes to make her ablutions after childbirth, and while she is absent the raja sends for the Brahman to perform for him a certain religious rite. The version in the Pancka Tantra is the only one in which the woman slays the faithful animal, and the Persian version is pecuhar in repre- senting the infant's mother as having died in giving it birth. The story as found in Calila and Dimna agrees with that in the Hitopadesa. No. IX— p. 58. The Libertine Husband. In all other texts, with the exception of Nakhshabi, this story is fused with that of the Go-Between and the She-Dog, but they certainly formed separate tales originally, as they are so found in the Sanskrit collection entitled Suka Saptati, or Seventy Tales of a Parrot. According to Nakhshabi, when the wife is intro- duced to her own husband by the old procuress, she recognises him under her veil, throws it off, seizes hold of him, declares that she had adopted this device to entrap him, and accuses him of infidelity to the assembled neighbours. She then takes him before the qazi, and obtains a divorce. Q 242 APPENDIX. No. X— p. 59. The Monkey, the Fig-tree, and the Boar. A STORY in the Kathd Sarit Sdgara,^ of the Monkey and the Porpoise, is sometimes cited as a parallel to this tale, but I can- not see any resemblance between them. An old monkey, having strayed from his troop into a forest on the sea shore, contracts a friendship with a porpoise, whose mate becomes jealous, and feigning illness, tells him that the only thing which could cure her is the heart of a monkey. With great reluctance the porpoise sets off to induce his friend the monkey to visit his dwelling; and as he carries him on his back through the water the monkey inquires the cause of his evident disquietude. The porpoise confesses that his wife longs for a monkey's heart, upon which the monkey informs him that his heart is upon a tree in the forest, and that if the porpoise would return with him he should be made welcome to it. The porpoise accordingly conveys him back, and the monkey no sooner touches the land than he leaps into a tree, and calls the porpoise a fool for believing that any animal keeps his heart outside his body. In Syntipas and the Libra de Los Engannos, the boar waited in expectation of having more figs thrown him, with his head raised, until the veins of his neck burst and he died therefrom. The story as told in the Anvdr-i Siihayli is identical with the Persian version. The Mishle Sandabar is the only Eastern text in which, in this tale, a man is substituted for the monkey, and from it the story in this form was taken into the Scptcm Sapicn- tum: it is thus related in the black-letter copy of the Scfcn Wise Masters belonging to the Glasgow University Library : The Boar atid the Herdsvia7i. There was sometime an emperor, the which had a great forest, ' "Ocean of the Rivers of Story," by Somadeva, nth century; a poetical version of the Sanskrit prose work, Vriluit Katha (Great Story), written by Gunadhya, in tlie 6th century. THE MONKEY AND THE BOAR. 243 wherein was a wild boar, which was so cruel and so fierce, that he killed and devoured men going through the forest. The emperor therefore being right heavy, proclaimed throughout all his dominions, that whosoever he was that could slay the boar, should have his only daughter to wife, and therewith his empire after his death : and as this was in places proclaimed, there was not one man found that durst give this adventure. But there was a shepherd who thought in himself : Might I the boar overcome and slay, I should not only advantage myself, but also my genera- tion and kindred. So then he took his shepherd's staft' in his hand and went to the forest : and as the boar had of him a sight, he drew towards the herdsman, but he for fear climbed upon a tree, and then the boar began to bite and gnaw the tree. So the herd thought shortly that he would have overthrown it. This tree was loaden with great plenty of fruit, and the herd gathered and plucked thereof, and cast them to the boar, inso- much that when he was filled therewith, he laid him down to sleep: the which when the herd perceived, by little and little descended the tree, and with the one hand he clawed the boar, and with the other held him upon the tree, and seeing that the boar slept very soundly, he drew out his knife, and smote the boar to the heart, and killed him. And so shortly after he wedded the emperor's daughter : and after the death of her father, he was made emperor. Then said she [the empress]. My lord, wot ye not what I have said? He said. Right well. Then said she. This mighty boar betokeneth your most noble person, against whom may no man withstand, neither by wisdom nor with strength. This shepherd, with his staff, is the person of your ungracious son, who with his staff of cunning, beginneth to play with you, as the herdsman clawed the boar, and made him to sleep and after killeth him. In the same manner the masters of your son, by their false fables and narrations claw you, and glose with you, until the time that your son slay you, that he may reign. Then 244 APPENDIX. said the emperor, God forbid that they should do to me as he did to the wild boar : and he said unto her, This day my son shall die : and she answered. If you do so, then do ye wisely. The story of the Wild Boar is not found in any of the texts of the Sroen VazJrs. No. XI — pp. 6i and 162. The Go-Between and the She-Dog. It is very significant that in this story as related in the Disciplina Clericalis of Alphonsus (A.D. 1 106), the fabliau of La vielle qui sddiiisit la jeiine fille, the Gesta Romanorum (13th century), and the collection of medieval tales written in Latin, edited, for the Percy Society, by Wright (No. xiii, Dc dolo et arte vetiilarum), the incident of the Libertine Husband does not occur ; but — as in the Sanskrit Suka SaptatT and our Persian Sindihad Ndnia — the scruples of the virtuous matron are done away by the old hag's device, and the lover is introduced to her. In the Suka SaptatT the lady is the wife of a prince ; a young man becomes enamoured of her, and his mother, seeing him fading away because of his love, adopts the expedient of the dog, and persuades her to grant her son an interview. The oldest form of the story is probably that of the Cunning Siddhikari, in the Kathd Sarit Sahara : A Buddhist priestess has been employed by four young merchants to corrupt Devasmita, the wife of a merchant, and with this object she pays a visit to the virtuous lady. The narrative thus proceeds : "As she approached the private rooms of Devasmita, a she-dog, that was fastened there with a chain, would not let her come near, but opposed her entrance in the most determined way. Then Devasmita, seeing her, of her own accord sent a maid, and had her brought in, thinking to herself: 'What can this person be come for?' After she had entered, the wicked ascetic gave Devasmita her blessing, and, treating the virtuous THE GO-BETWEEN AND THE SHE-DOG. 245 woman with affected respect, said to her : 'I have always had a desire to see you, but to-day I saw you in a dream, therefore I am come to visit you with impatient eagerness ; and my mind is afflicted at beholding you separated from your husband, for beauty and youth are wasted when one is deprived of the society of one's beloved. ' "With this and many other speeches of the same kind she tried to gain the confidence of the virtuous woman in a short interview, and then, taking leave of her, she returned to her own house. On the second day she took with her a piece of meat full of pepper-dust, and went again to the house of Devasmita, and there she gave that piece of meat to the she-dog at the door, who gobbled it up, pepper and all. Then, owing to the pepper-dust, the tears flowed in profusion from the animal's eyes, and her nose began to run. And the cunning ascetic immediately went into the apartment of Deva- smita, who received her hospitably, and she began to cry. When Devasmita asked her why she shed tears, she said, with affected reluctance : ' My friend, look at this dog weeping outside here. This creature recognised me to-day as having been its companion in a former birth, and began to weep ; for that reason my tears gushed through pity.' When she heard that, and saw that she-dog outside apparently weeping, Devasmita thought for a moment to herself: ' What can be the meaning of this wonderful sight ? ' Then the ascetic said to her : ' My daughter, in a former birth, I and that dog were the two wives of a certain Brahman. And our husband frequently went about to other countries on embassies by order of the king. Now while he was away from home I lived with other men at my pleasure, and so did not cheat the elements of which I was composed, and my senses, of their lawful enjoyment. For considerate treatment of the elements and senses is held to be the highest duty. Therefore I have been born in this birth with a recollection of my former existence. But she, in her former life, through ignorance, con- fined all her attention to the preservation of her character, 246 APPENDIX. therefore she has been degraded and born again as one of the canine race; however, she too remembers her former birth. '^ The wise Devasmita said to herself: ' This is a novel conception of duty ; no doubt this woman has laid a treacherous snare for me ; ' and so said to her : ' Reverend lady, for this long time I have been ignorant of this duty, so procure me an interview with some charming man. ' Then the ascetic said : ' There are residing here some young merchants that have come from another country, so I will bring them to you.' " The wicked ascetic returns home delighted with the success of her stratagem. Meanwhile Devasmita resolves to punish the four young merchants. So calling her maids, she instructs them to prepare some wine mixed with datura (a stupifying drug), and to have a dog's foot of iron made as quickly as possible. Then she causes one of her maids to dress herself to resemble her mistress. The ascetic introduces one of the young libertines into the lady's house in the evening, and then returns home. The maid, disguised as her mistress, receives the young merchant courteously, and, having persuaded him to drink freely of the drugged wine till he becomes senseless, the other maids strip off his clothes, and, after branding him on the forehead with the dog's foot, during the night push him into a filthy ditch. On recovering consciousness he returns to his companions, and tells them, in order that they should share his fate, that he had been robbed. The three other young merchants in turn visit the house of Devasmita, and receive the same treatment. Soon afterwards the pretended devotee, ignorant of the result of her device, visits the lady, is drugged, her ears and nose are cut off, and she is flung into a foul pond. In the sequel, the lady, disguised in man's apparel, proceeds to the country of the young libertines, where her husband had been residing for 1 "This contrivance," remarks Professor H. H. Wilson, "is quite con- sistent with the Hindu notion of the metempsychosis, and is clearly of Indian origin." THE PRETENDED WIDOW. 247 some time, and, going before the king, petitions him to assemble all his subjects, alleging that there are among his citizens four of her slaves who had run away. Then she seized upon the four young merchants, and claimed them as her slaves. The other merchants indignantly cried out that these were re- putable men, and she answered that if their foreheads were examined they should be found marked with a dog's foot. On seeing the merchants thus branded, the king was astonished, and Devasmita thereupon related the whole story, and all the people burst out laughing, and the king said to the lady : " They are your slaves by the best of titles." The other mer- chants paid a large sum to the chaste wife to redeem these four from slavery, and a fine to the king's treasury. And Devasmita having received the money, and recovered her husband, was honoured by all men, returned to her own city, and was never afterwards separated from her beloved. It will be observed that in this old Indian version the denoue- ment is more moral than in any others : instead of the lady yielding, she entraps successively the four young merchants and their go-between, and punishes all of them in the most edifying manner. No. XII— p. 6t,. The Pretended Widow. Nothing at all resembling this fragment is found in any of the Eastern texts represented in our Comparative Table. Without the commencement it is difficult to guess at the details of the story. Perhaps the lady, in her husband's absence, had gone to the house of an old lover, under some false pretences ; she is apparently disguised, and so is not recognised by him ; then she gets drunk there, and discovers herself to him in her joy to be near him again, and is maltreated in consequence. She pretends to her neighbours that it is all her own doing, because 248 APPENDIX. of her grief for the news of her husband's death. When he comes, however, she turns the tables on him, and he pays off the debts she had incurred during his absence. In the manuscript, on the first of the three remaining pages of the story (fol. 177), there is a painting of the " tresses " scene : A young man is seated, holding the lady's severed hair in his right hand, near his left is a wine bottle overturned, and two others are introduced to show there has been a drinking-bout going on ; the lady, with her hair cut off and her face apparently flushed and idiotic, stands near the youth ; while at a short distance is a figure which seems meant rather for that of a eunuch than an old woman, "biting the finger of astonishment." It is not very clear from the text whether by "the old companion " who "leaped Into her suddenly" we are to understand the old lover, or this unsexed personage — probably the former. I should suppose the Siika SaptatJ likely to contain the complete story, or something similar. No. XIII— p. 65. The Fatiier-in-Law. This story is found in the 8th Night of Nakhshabi's Tilti Ndma (where it is told by the 5th vazir) and also in the modern version of its Sanskrit prototype, the Siika SaptatT. — Readers of Lane's translation of the Thousand and One Nights will probably recol- lect a more elaborate conversation by signs in the touching story of 'Aziz and 'Aziza, where the young man's cousin and betrothed interprets the amorous lady's symbols ; for instance : She tucked up her sleeves from her forearms, and opening her five fingers, struck her bosom with them (with the palm and five fingers) ; next she raised her hands, and held forth a mirror from the lattice, and took a red handkerchief and retired with it ; after which she let it down from the lattice towards the street three times, letting it down and raising it, and then wringing and THE FATHER-IN-LAW. 249 twisting it with her hand and bending down her head ; meaning thereby : " Come hither after five days ; seat thyself at the shop of the dyer [indicated by the dipping and wringing of the red handkerchief], until my messenger shall come to thee. " — Lane remarks, that "the inability of numbers of Eastern women in families of the middle classes to write or read, as well as the difficulty or impossibility existing of conveying written letters, may have given rise to such modes of communication. " Another example of conversing by signs occurs in the Story of the Minister's Son, in the Sanskrit collection entitled Vctala- panchavinsati (Twenty-five Tales of a Demon). The prince and his companion, the minister's son, discover a lady bathing in a tank ; and the prince and the damsel become immediately enam- oured of each other. The lady took a lotus from her garland of flowers, and put it in her ear ; she then twisted it into an ornament called dantapatra, or tooth-leaf; then she took another lotus and placed it significantly upon her heart. The minister's son explains these signs : the lady lives in such a place ; she is the daughter of a dentist there ; her name is Padmavati, and her heart is wholly the prince's. An old woman (as usual) acts as go-between. The lady scolds her, strikes her on both cheeks with her two hands smeared with camphor; — meaning : "Wait for the remaining ten nights of moonlight, for they are unfavour- able for an interview. " A second time the old woman goes to the lady, who again pretends to be angry with her, and strikes her on the breast with three fingers dipped in red dye ; — meaning : "I cannot receive you for three nights." A third time the lady receives her more graciously, but, instead of letting her go into the street by the usual way, she places her in a seat with a rope fastened to support it, and lets her down from a window into the garden of the house, where she must climb a tree, cross the wall, and let herself down by another tree, and go to her own house ; thus indicating to the prince the way by which he was to be admitted into the house. 250 APPENDIX. Cardonne, in his Melanges de Litterahtre Orientale, gives a variant of our story, with additions, from a Persian or Turkish collection. After the father-in-law (a merchant of Agra) has failed to convince his son of his wife's infidelity, by displaying the anklets, he is still resolved to open his eyes to her true character, at whatever cost. "There was at Agra a mysterious reservoir, much admired, constructed by some wise men, who had brought water into it under the conjunction of certain planets. The virtue of the water consisted in trying all kinds of falsehood. A woman, suspected of infidelity, swore she had been faithful, and was thrown into this tank, called the Tank of Trial ; if she swore falsely, she instantly sank to the bottom, but if truly, she swam on the surface. The enraged father-in-law cited the lady to this tank, according to the right of every head of a family. Conscious of her guilt, the lady studied how to clear herself in the eyes of the world. Acquainting her gallant of her situation, she begged him to counterfeit madness, and to seize her in his arms the moment she was to undergo the trial. The lover, solicitous to save the honour and life of his mistress, made no difficulty to expose himself to the eyes of the spectators, and found an opportunity to approach and embrace her, which he effected by subjecting himself to a few blows, being deemed insane by those who did not know him. "The suspected wife advanced to the edge of the tank, and, raising her voice, cried : ' I swear that I have never touched any man but my husband and that madman who has just insulted me. Let this water be my punishment if I have sworn falsely. ' Having thus spoken, she threw herself into the tank. The water buoyed her up in the sight of all present, who unanimously de- clared her innocent, and she returned triumphant to the arms of her husband, who had always thought her faithful. But the old man could not give up the opinion he had formed from the evi- dence of his own eyes ; he kept constant watch in the garden, but the lover and the lady discontinued their meetings. THE ROBBER AND THE LION. 251 "The vigilance of the father-in-law did not, however, abate. The king of India, being informed of his indefatigable care and attention, thought him a very proper person to superintend his harem, and appointed him to that responsible office. The old man discharged his duties with great severity ; every one trembled before him, and his eyes seemed to penetrate the walls of the seraglio, even to its inmost recesses. One night as the unre- lenting old fellow was going his usual rounds, he perceived the prince's elephant mounted by its driver. This privileged animal advanced to the balcony of the king's favourite wife, which opened, and the elephant, taking the lady upon his trunk, con- ducted her to his rider. After some time the lady was brought back again in the same manner, and set down in her balcony. The aga could not help laughing at the docility of the animal, the confidence of the lady, and the happiness of the guide. The adventure having taught him that the sultan was no more for- tunate than his son, he took comfort, and resolved to keep the lady's intrigue more secret than he had done that of his daughter-in-law. From ^fabliau, possibly, Margaret Queen of Navarre obtained the material of the 45th tale of her Heptavieron, in which an officious neighbour, looking from his window, discovers a lady and her gallant in the garden ; when she sees that they are being thus watched, she sends her lover away, and, going into the house, persuades her husband to spend what remains of the night with her in the same spot. In the morning the neighbour meets the husband and tells him of his wife's misconduct, but is answered : " It was I, gossip, it was I." No. XIV— p. 69. The RoBTiER, the Lion, and the Monkey. Professor Benfey has pointed out, in his Pancha Tantra, the resemblance between this tale — which is not found in the Sei'en 252 APPENDIX. VazTrs — and one in the Suka SaptatT. The fate of the officious monkey finds numerous parallels in Asiatic folk-tales. For in- stance : In the story of " Ameen and the Ghool," related to Sir John Malcolm by the Shah's Story-teller, Ameen having out- witted the monster, who sought to slay him, while he slept, by the same device as that adopted by our own hero Jack, of giant- killing renown, the ghul, on finding his intended victim alive and hearty in the morning, fled from his den in great terror, upon which Ameen took the opportunity of escaping. He had, how- ever, only gone a short distance when he saw the ghul returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. His knowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. "Take that," said he to the fox, at the same time shooting him through the head. "That brute," said he to the ghul, "promised to bring me seven ghfds that I might chain them and carry them to Isfahan, and here he has only brought you, who are already my slave. " So saying, he advanced, but the ghrd had taken flight, [Sketches of Persia, chap. xvi. ) Another parallel is found in the Kashmir folk-tale of "The Tiger and the Farmer's Wife :" One day a farmer went to his field to plough with his bullocks. He had just yoked them when a tiger walked up to him and saluted him ; the farmer returned the salute, when the tiger said that the Lord had sent him to eat his two bullocks. The farmer promises that he will bring him a fine milch-cow instead ; but his wife objects, and, putting on the farmer's best clothes, sets off, man-fashion, on the pony to where the tiger is waiting. She calls out: "I hope I may find a tiger in this field, for I have not tasted tiger's flesh since the day before yesterday, when I killed three. " The tiger, on hearing this, turns tail and flees into the jungle, where he meets a jackal, who asks him why he runs so fast. " Because a tiger- eating demon is after me." The jackal tells him it is only a woman. But the tiger is still afraid, and the jackal and he knot THE CONCEALED ROBE. 253 their tails together, so that one should not escape at the other's expense. When the woman sees them, she calls out to the jackal : "This is very kind of you, to bring me such a fat tiger ; but con- sidering how many tigers there are in your father's house, I think you might have brought me two. " Upon this, the tiger flies off in a fright, dragging the jackal after him, and the latter is killed by being bumped against the stones. {Indian Antiquary, 1882. ) No. XV— pp. 71-73- The Peri and the Devotee. It may possibly interest some students of comparative folk-lore to know that in the Persian version of this story the First Wish of the devotee is similar to that in the old Castilian version, Libra dc los Engannos et los Asayamentos de las Miigeres, appended to Professor D. Comparetti's most valuable Ricerche intorno al Libra di Sindibdd. And it is perhaps worthy of note that the Turkish rendering of the story agrees, in this respect, with the Persian and old Castilian versions ; which seems to show that the Ottoman translation of the Thausand and One Nights was made from a different text from the Calcutta or the Bulaq. No. XVI— pp. 73 and 198. The Concealed Robe— The Burnt Veil. An error in the translation of the story of the Concealed Robe falls to be corrected in this place: pp. 76, 77, "One day the vile hag," etc., — it is not the old woman who visits the lady at her mother's house, after she ran away from her husband's violence, but the same "effeminate one" who concealed the robe, and who not only conducts her to her lover, but also makes peace between the husband and wife. The only part the old woman takes in the intrigue is to engage the services of the 254 APPENDIX. "effeminate one" — in the original, /nukhannas, which means a hermaphrodite, and has another signification, which need not be here explained — for, although she "had now cleared her hands from the affairs of the world, she had formerly managed many such matters." (I may as well mention that I had originally suppressed the circumstance of the want of sex on the part of the individual employed by the old woman, and, somehow, neglected to alter the terms in pages 76, 77.) — The wretched being who is so comically described in the text would doubtless readily obtain access to the women's apartments of any house in Persia or India; and as Eastern tales of common life are considered to faithfully reflect the manners and customs of the age in which they were composed, it may be concluded that eunuchs and epicene individuals were formerly employed in those countries as go-betweens in affairs of gallantry. It is hardly to be supposed, surely, that the author of the Sindibdd Ndma deliberately substituted this hermaphrodite go-between for the conventional old woman of the same story as found in other versions. But I shall not take upon myself to say whether this peculiar turn of the story in the Persian text is evidence of its greater antiquity. I may add, that it will be observed that in the Persian version of the story the cloth, or robe, is not burnt, nor is the lady divorced, apparently, as in the Arabian and other texts ; and perhaps the most remarkable difference is, that it is the young man himself who suggests that the husband should be reconciled to his wife. The story is so differently told in the Persian text from the Greek, Arabic, and other versions, that Falconer could only have cursorily looked at it in the MS. when he referred his reader to the tale as given in Jonathan Scott's Seven VazJrs. Professor Comparetti has stated, in his "Researches," that the Story of the Burnt Cloth is not in the Persian text of the Sindibad. He was, perhaps, misled by the French translator of Falconer's analysis, in the Revue Britannique, who may have omitted the brief allusion which THE LADY IN THE GLASS-CASE. 255 Falconer makes to the story, in these words : " The vazir \^i.e. the sixth] next relates the Story of the Stratagem of the Old Woman with the Merchant's Wife and the Young Man, which, being told in the Seven Vazirs ('Tales,' etc., p. 168), need not be here repeated." — As this is one of the "secondary" tales of the vazTrs, which Professor Comparetti conceives was added when the tales of the Libertine Flusband and the Old Woman and the She-Dog were fused together, it is of some importance to find it in the Persian text, and told so dif- ferently, as well as these two stories separately. In some of the Arabian texts of the Seven VazTrs, the story of the Burnt Veil is followed by the tale of The Lady in the Glass-Case, which is almost identical with the well-known story in the intro- duction to the Arabian Alghfs. The original is perhaps found in the KatJid Sarii Sagara, section seventh, to the following effect : Two young Brahmans travelling are benighted in a forest, and take up their lodging in a tree near a lake. Early in the night a number of people come from the water, and having made pre- parations for an entertainment retire ; a Yaksha (or genie) then comes out of the lake with his two wives, and spends the night there ; when he and one of his wives are asleep, the other, seeing the youths, invites them to approach her, and, to encourage them, shows them a hundred rings received from former gallants, not- withstanding her husband's precautions, who keeps her locked up in a chest at the bottom of the lake. The Hindu story-teller is more moral than the Arab : the youths reject her advances ; she wakes the Yaksha, who is going to put them to death, but the rings are produced in evidence against the unfaithful wife, and she is turned away with the loss of her nose. — The story is repeated in the next section with some variation : the lady has ninety and nine rings, and is about to complete the hundred, 256 APPENDIX. when her husband, who is Naga (or snake-god) wakes, and con- sumes the guihy pair with fire from his mouth. — Dr. H. H. Wilson, — There is a variant of this story in the Persian romance oi Hatim Ta'i (a pre-Islamite chieftain, renowned throughout the East for his unbounded generosity and HberaHty) : A king, on a hunting excursion, loses his way and is separated from his attendants ; he comes to a beautiful garden, in which is a palace, and an artificial lake, sits down, and, as he is performing his ablutions, catches hold of an iron chain in the water, pulls it towards him, and behold, it is attached to a chest, which opens, and discovers a woman of surpassing beauty. After conversing with her, the king takes a ring from his finger and offers it to her as a memento, but she tells him that she has already a string of rings, of which she cannot tell the number, nor can she recollect which lover gave her a particular ring. — Forbes says there is a similar tale in NakhshabI, near the beginning, but I have failed to find it in that work. No. XVII — pp. 80 and 144. The Lion's Track. This story is told by the first vazir in all the versions, save the Persian Sindibdd Nama, where it is related by the seventh vazir, and two of the Arabian texts, namely, Scott's MS. and the Rich MS. in the British Museum, where it is, not inappropri- ately, told by the Damsel, since it tells rather against men than women, the king being the aggressor, and the "wile" of the lady being in defence of her own virtue. — As an instance of the "hashy " manner in which the Book of the Thousand and One Nights has been put together, it may be mentioned that in the Calcutta printed Arabic text (which hardly differs at all from that printed at Bulaq), this tale of the Sultan and the Virtuous Wife is also related separately from the Seven Vazlrs — Night 404. A variant of the story is found in a Turkish collection, entitled THE LION'S TRACK. 257 ^ Ajd'ibic-' I- Ma\lsir, Marvels of Memorials (i.e. of Traditions, etc.), which Cardonne translated, under the title of "La Pantoufle du Sultan," in his Melanges de Litteratiire Orientale. This version differs in some particulars from that of Scott. The sultan sends the vazir a written order to proceed on some business to a distant place. The vazir, in his haste to depart, leaves on the sofa the sultan's order. Instead of the lady giving the sultan a book to read while she prepares supper for his entertainment, she recites to him two distichs, to the effect that the lion would scorn to devour what the wolf leaves, and deigns not to quench his thirst in the river which had been polluted by the dog. "These words immediately convinced the sultan that he had nothing to hope for there ; he retired greatly disconcerted, and in his confusion forgot one of his slippers. The vazir, in the meantime, having in vain searched for the prince's order, recol- lected that he had left it on the sofa, and was obliged to return home for it. The sultan's slipper, which had lain till then un- perceived, gave him a too clear conviction of the monarch's real designs, and his motive for sending him away. Tormented at once by ambition and jealousy, he concerted means to divorce his wife without the loss of his dignity. Having despatched his business, he returned to give the sultan an account of his com- mission, and pretended to his wife that, as the sultan had just given him a sumptuous palace, it was necessary for her to pass a few days with her father, in order that he might have leisure to furnish it, presenting her at the same time with a hundred pieces of gold." The rest of the story agrees with the Arabian and other versions. Boccaccio has adapted the first part of the Arabic version for the 5th Novel, Day i, of his Decameron. The Marchioness of Monferrat, while her husband was absent — being engaged in the crusade against the Turks — was visited by Philip, King of France, who had become enamoured of her from the accounts he had heard of her beauty and virtue. The lady, suspecting R 258 APPENDIX. his designs, bought up all the hens she could, and caused them to be dressed in as many different ways as possible. WTien the king perceived the uniform character of the fare, he said : " Madam, are only hens bred in this country?" " Not so," the lady replied; "but women, however they may differ in dress and titles, are the same here as in other places. " The king felt the force of the rebuke, and presently departed. No. XVIII— p. 83. The Wiles of Women. The Persian version of this story differs very materially from that in Syntipas, where the woman, having learned of the young man's book of wiles, tells him the following tale : "A certain man possessed a house and a prudent wife, and was always disparaging all woman kind. ' Abuse not all women,' his wife said, 'but only the bad.' 'All,' retorted he. ' Speak not thus,' the wife replied ; ' since you happen not to be united with one of them. ' ' Had I fallen in with one of them,' he then said, ' I should have cut off her nose. ' After his own fashion, he also held up to obloquy some quarrelsome female neighbours. The wife then said to her husband : ' What do you purpose doing to-day?' And he answered: 'I am going into the field, and, at your leisure, cook something and bring it thither, that I may dine.' The wife then going forth met with, on her way, and purchased some fish, and scattered them in the field where her husband was to plough. When he discovered the fish, he said to his wife : ' Have you prepared aught for us to eat this evening?' And she replied : ' I have cooked neither flesh nor fish, nor anything else. ' Thereupon he said : * Behold the food I found in the field, and cook it. ' Upon this she took the fish and concealed them. The table having been laid out, the man said to his wife : ' Where is the fish ? ' ' What THE WILES OF WOMEN. 259 fish?' she demanded. 'Thou fool,' said he, 'did I not bring some fish just now, which I found in the field?' The woman, scratching her face with her nails, cried out : ' O listen to me, neighbours ! ' And the neighbours having assembled, the wife said to them : ' Listen, O my masters ! My husband bids me cook fish which he brought from the field. ' The men asked the husband : ' What sayest thou ? — that you found fish in a ploughed field?' He replied: 'O my masters and brethren! the food I found there; but how it happened to be there, I know not.' His wife then cried out : ' This man has a devil ! ' And the neighbours then put iron fetters on his hands and feet, and the whole night through the wretched man continued to say : ' Did I not find the fish, and, bringing them to this jade, bid her cook them? Why have they, then, bound me with fetters?' At the dawn of day the wife again raised a cry ; upon which the neighbours reassembled, and asked : 'What has happened?' and the unfortunate man once more repeated the truth, ' He is pos- sessed of a devil ! ' cried the woman ; and the neighbours, believing her, said : ' Verily, the man is suffering somewhat. ' After the third day, the woman said to her husband : ' Art thou hungry ? May I give thee somewhat to eat ? ' And he answered ; ' Yea ; and what hast thou to give me to eat?' She said: 'Cooked victuals, in the frying-pan. ' ' Thou sayest well, woman. Are not those the same that I brought to you from the field ? ' The wife then exclaimed : ' O Christian masters ! the evil spirit still possesses this man, as he continues to talk about the victuals.' But on his declaring, ' I no longer maintain what I uttered before,' she gave him a portion and he ate of the food, without saying a word about it. But she asked : ' Dost thou not remember the food?' He replied : ' I know not what thou art talking about.' She then released him, and said : ' O husband, all that thou hast uttered is true ; but wherefore abusest thou not only the bad but also the good women ? And I said to thee : " Be silent ;" but thou repliedst : " If I had such a wicked wife, 26o APPENDIX. I should slay her." No longer vainly boast of being superior to womankind.'" Having put the youth off his guard by this artful story, the woman makes advances to him, and then makes a great outcry, which brought the neighbours, who asked the cause of her exclamations. The youth by this time had taken his seat at the table, and the woman said in reply to the neighbours: "This stranger, who is received kindly by us, eating at our table, was suffering grievously, and was in great danger of being choked, in consequence of a morsel sticking in his throat ; but I, quickly seeing what had happened, and fearing the death of a guest, shouted out as you heard me. But now the help of God has saved him from the danger of choking, and granted him health, " and the neighbours went away. The woman, then approaching the stranger, said : " Hast thou written down all I have related to thee, and all I have done?" The stranger answered: "By no means." She then said: "In vain, O man, have you sus- tained labours and outlays ; — despite your endeavours, you have accomplished nothing, and never fathomed the machinations of women ! " And the stranger immediately took the records of the wiles of women, and threw them into the fire, and, marvelling, said : ' ' No human being is able to know the knaveries of women." After this, hesitating, and not reahsing what might happen, he discontinued the investigation of woman's evil-craft, returned to his native land, and married a wife. This story is not found in the Mishle Sandabar or the Sez'en VazTrs, and the subordinate tale, related by the woman, as above, is peculiar to the Greek text. The woman's own wile is also found in the Bahdr-i Danish, or Spring of Knowledge, by Inayatu-'llah of Delhi, a work which is avowedly derived, all but the frame, from ancient Indian sources; and in the 8th Night of Nakhshabi's Tiiti Ndma, where it is told by the fourth vazlr. — The twenty-first vazTr's story in the Turkish book of The Forty VazTrs is not remotely related to the same tale. THE WILES OF WOMEN. 261 Mr. E. J. W. Gibb has favoured me with the following trans- lation of it, from a printed text procured at Constantinople : "There was in the palace of the world a great king, and he had a beautiful wife, such that many a soul dangled in the tresses on her cheek. That lady had a secret affair with a youth ; and she used to hide the youth in a chest in the palace. One day the youth said to the lady : ' If the king were aware of our work, he would slay the two of us. ' The lady said : ' Leave that thought ; I can do so that I shall hide thee in the chest, and say to the king: " Lo, my lover is lying in this chest ;" and then, when the king is about to kill me, I will make him re- pentant by one word.' While the youth and the lady were saying these words, the king came, and the lady straightway put the youth into the chest and locked it. The king said : ' Why lockest thou that chest in such haste ? What is in the chest?' The lady answered: 'It is my lover; I saw thee coming, and put him into the chest and locked it.' Then was the king wroth, and he bared his sword, and thought to slay him who was in the chest, when the lady said : ' O king, art thou mad? Where is gone thy understanding? Am I mad, that I should advance a strange man to thy couch, and then say to thee : " Lo, he is in the chest?" In truth, I wondered if thou wast sincere in thy trust of me, and I tried thee, and now I know that thou thinkest evil concerning me. ' Then did the king repent of what he had done ; and he begged and besought of his wife, saying, 'Forgive me.' And he gave her many things, and craved pardon for his fault. When the king had gone out from the harem into the palace, the lady took that youth forth of the chest, and said : ' Didst thou not see what a trick I played the king?' and they gave themselves up to merriment. " In another Turkish collection, according to Cardonne, a philosopher who had compiled a book of the tricks and devices of women is concealed in a chest by an Arab woman on the 262 APPENDIX. appearance of her husband. It seems the man and his wife had been for some time playing a game, which consists in receiving nothing from the person one is engaged to play with, without pro- nouncing the word Diadestc, or Touch-stake, from which the game derives its name. The woman, to the terror of the concealed philosopher, coolly tells her husband that she has a lover locked in the chest, upon which he furiously demands the key, which she gives him, and then calls out to him : " Pay me the forfeit — you have lost the Diadesie!" The husband, happy to find no cause for his jealousy, returns the key to his wife, and goes away, and the philosopher on being released from his continement is advised by the woman to enter this contrivance in his book. The trick played by the wife on her husband with the fishes in the ploughed field, which is interwoven with the Story of Woman's Wiles in the Greek text, finds parallels in other collec- tions of Eastern fiction. For instance : In the tale of the Bang-Eater and his Wife (vol. vi of Jonathan Scott's edition of the ArabiaJi Nights), the man having discovered a hidden treasure, his wife fetches it away, and he, being a very honest fellow, threatens to inform the chief of the police of her having appropriated the gold ; upon which, in order that his story should be discredited, she scatters pieces of cooked meat around the house outside, and then awakes her husband, who was sleeping off the effects of a dose of his favourite bang, and tells him that it had just rained these pieces of food. He believes her ; but next day he goes to the chief of police, and acquaints him that his wife has taken away some money which had been concealed in a heap of earth. The magistrate asks the woman if her husband told the truth, and she desires him to inquire of the foohsh man what day it was that she took the money ; he replies that it was the same day that it rained cooked food, and the magistrate causes him to be confined as a lunatic. Some time afterwards his wife persuades him to say that nobody ever knew of it raining anything but water, and he is set at liberty. THE POISONED GUESTS. 263 So, too, in the story of the Foolish Sachali, in Miss Stokes' Indian Fairy Tales, the simpleton meets with a strayed camel, loaded with rupees, and takes it home ; his mother conceals the treasure, and, while he is out of the way, scatters comfits outside the house. On his return home she tells him that the comfits have fallen from the skies, and the foolish Sachali informs the neigh- bours that his mother had concealed a large, quantity of rupees, which he found the same day that it rained comfits. — In an Eng- lish story, it rained raisins, and in Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands, there are showers of milk-porridge and pancakes. In the Calcutta text of the Thousand and One Nights there occurs (Night 394) what seems an absurd variant of the trick with the fishes : A man gives his wife one Friday a fish to cook ; while he is out, her lover comes, and, putting the fish in a jar of water, she goes off with him, and is absent a whole week. On the following Friday she comes home, and her husband (who had sought for her everywhere), reproaches her, but she brings out the fish alive from the jar, to show that she could not have been absent at all ; she then assembles the neighbours, who, consider- ing him mad, load him with fetters. No. XIX— pp. 88 and 213. The Poisoned Guests. We have in the Persian text of this ancient tale a curious parallel to a custom which prevailed in Europe during the Middle Ages. The house of the bountiful man is represented as having "neither door, nor lock, nor porter." In the Mahinogion, we read : "If it should be said that there was a porter at Arthur's palace, there was none;" on which Lady Charlotte Guest remarks: "The absence of a porter was formerly considered as an indication of hospitality, and as such is alluded to by Rhys Brychan, a bard who flourished at the close of the 15th century : The stately entrance is without porters, And his mansions are open to every honest man." 264 APPENDIX. The original form of our story of the Poisoned Guests seems to be found in the 13th of the Twenty-five Tales of a Demon (Vetdla Panchavinsati ). The wife of a man named Harisvamin having been stolen from him one night by a Vidyadhara prince, he gave away all his wealth to the Brahmans, and resolved to visit all the holy waters, and wash away his sins, after which he hoped he might find his beloved wife again ; and the story thus proceeds :' "Then he left his country, with his Brahman birth as his only fortune, and proceeded to go round to all the holy bathing-places in order to recover his beloved. And as he was roaming about, there came upon him the terrible lion of the hot season, with the blazing sun for mouth, and with a mane composed of his fiery rays. And the winds blew with excessive heat, as if warmed by the breath of sighs furnaced forth by travellers grieved at being separated from their wives. And the tanks, with their supply of water diminished by the heat, and their drying white mud, ap- peared to be showing their broken hearts. And the trees by the roadside seemed to lament on account of the departure of the glory of spring, making their wailing heard in the shrill moaning of their bark, with leaves, as it were, lips, parched with heat. At that season Harisvamin, wearied out with the heat of the sun, with bereavement, hunger and thirst, and continual travel- ling, disfigured, emaciated and dirty, and pining for food, reached in the course of his wanderings a certain village, and found in it the house of a Brahman named Padmanabha, who was engaged in a sacrifice. And seeing that many Brahmans were eating in his house, he stood leaning against the door-post, silent and motionless. And the good-wife of that Brahman named Pad- manabha, seeing him in this position, felt pity for him, and reflected : * Alas, mighty is hunger ! Whom will it not bring down ? For here stands a man at the door, who appears to be a householder, desiring food, with downcast countenance; evi- dently come from a long journey, and with all his senses impaired THE POISONED GUESTS. 265 by hunger. So is not he a man to whom food ought to be given?' Having gone through these reflections, the kind woman took up in her hands a vessel full of rice boiled in milk, with ghee and sugar, and brought it, and courteously presented it to him, and said : ' Go and eat this somewhere on the bank of the lake, for this place is unfit to eat in, as it is filled with feasting Brahmans. ' "He said: 'I will do so,' and took the vessel of rice and placed it at no great distance under a banyan-tree on the edge of the lake ; and he washed his hands and feet in the lake, and rinsed his mouth, and then came back in high spirits to eat the rice. But while he was thus engaged a kite, holding a black cobra with its beak and claws, came from some place or other, and sat on that tree. And it so happened that poisonous saliva issued from the mouth of that dead snake, which the bird had captured and was carrying along. The saliva fell into the dish of rice which was placed underneath the tree, and Harisvamin, without observing it, came and ate up that rice. As soon as in his hunger he had devoured all that food, he began to suffer terrible agonies, produced by the poison. He exclaimed: 'When fate has turned against a man, everything in this world turns also ; accordingly this rice, dressed with milk, ghee, and sugar, has become poison to me. ' Thus speaking, Harisvamin, tortured with the poison, tottered to the house of that Brahman who was engaged in a sacrifice, and said to his wife : ' The rice which you gave me has poisoned me ; so fetch me quickly a channer who can counteract the operation of poison ; otherwise you will be guilty of the death of a Brahman. ' When Harisvamin had said this to the good woman, who was beside herself to think what it could all mean, his eyes closed, and he died. Accord- ingly the Brahman who was engaged in a sacrifice drove out of his house his wife, though she was innocent and hospitable, being enraged with her for the supposed murder of her guest. The good woman, for her part, having incurred groundless blame 266 APPENDIX. from her charitable deed, and so become branded with infamy, went to a holy bathing-place to perform penance. Then there was a discussion before the superintendent of religion as to which of the four parties, the kite, the snake, and the couple who gave rice, was guilty of the murder of a Brahman, but the question was not decided." This forms the 1 6th tale of the Tamil version ( Veddla Cadai) and the 12th of the Hind! {Baital Pachid); in the latter, the traveller, having placed the dish of food at the foot of a fig-tree, went into the tank to wash his face and hands ; meanwhile a black snake, gUding from the roots of the tree, thrust its venomous mouth into the food, and then went away. — An in- cident resembling this story is found in the Bahar-i Danish (Story of the First Companion) : A snake bites the lip of the lady's paramour while he lies asleep, and kills him ; then it dropped some of its poison into the goblet of wine, which the lady when she awoke drank, and she also died. No. XX— p. 94. The Stolen Purse and the Child of Five Years. This is not only a familiar "Joe Miller" story, but it has been popular throughout Europe in various forms since the Middle Ages. Wright, in his elaborate introduction to the early English metrical version of the Seven Sages (vol. xvi of the Percy Society publications), states that he had met with it among the Latin tales of the 13th and 14th centuries. The first appearance of the story in English (taken perhaps from Valerius Maximus), so far as I have ascertained, is in the collection of jests entitled Tales and Qiiicke Ajts^weres, very Mery and Pleasant to Rede, printed about 1535, where it is related as follows: "There were two men on a time, the whiche lefte a great somme of money in kepyng with a maiden on this condition, THE CHILD OF FIVE YEARS. 267 that she shulde nat delyuer hit agayne, excepte they came bothe together for hit. Nat lang after, one of them cam to hir morn- yngly arayde, and sayde that his felowe was deed, and so required the money, and she delyuered hit to hym. Shortly after came the tother man, and required to have the moneye that was lefte with hir in kepying. The maiden was than so sorow- full, both for lacke of the money, and for one to defende hir cause, that she thought to hange hirself. But Demosthenes, that excellent oratour, spake for hir and sayd : Sir, this mayden is redy to quite her fidelite, and to deliuer agayne the money that was lefte with hir in kepyng, so that thou wilt bringe thy felowe with the to receyue it. But that he could nat do. " The story reappears in another jest-book, jfacke of Dover s Quest of Inqtiirie, or his Frivy Search for the Veriest Foole in England, 1604, under the title of "The Fool of Westchester," where two "cony-catchers, "or sharpers, deposit a sum of money with "a widow woman," one of whom obtains the deposit, and decamps. When the other fellow brings the case to trial before the judges in London, the widow — without the help of " Demosthenes " — steps briskly to the bar, and offers to restore the money on the original condition, that both came together to claim it. — It is reproduced, with some variations, in The Witty and Entertaining Exploits of George Buchanan, who was commonly called the King^s Fool, where three pedlars leave a pack with a widow, who kept an inn on the highway-side, charging her strictly, before witnesses, to deliver it to none of them unless they all came together. Two of the pedlars return, after a time, and, pretending their partner had gone to a certain fair, olitain the pack. When the third comes and learns how he had been cheated, he cites the poor woman before the judges, and "George" dons a lawyer's gown, and pleads her cause suc- cessfully. — Strange to say, Lloyd, in his State Worthies, has actually related the story as an incident in the early legal career of William Noy, attorney-general (1577-1634) — the case of the 268 APPENDIX. Three Graziers and the Alewife, in which judgment was about to be given against the poor woman, when young Noy, having obtained a fee from her in order that he should be able to plead in her behalf, starts up and informs the court that his client is prepared to pay the money when all three are present to receive it. This is given, on Lloyd's weak authority, in Chalmers' Biographical Dictionary, vol. xxiii, pp. 267, 268, although the same legal feat had been previously credited in the same work to Thomas Egerton, Lord Chancellor {1540- 161 7). We have seen that the "case" was a popular jest in England before either Noy or Egerton was born. — A French variant is found in the Noiiveaiix Contes a rire, 1737, under the title of " Jugement subtil du due d'Ossone contre deux Marchands;" and Rogers, in the notes to his poem of " Italy," gives an Itahan version, in which a young lawyer, the lover of the old lady's daughter, plays the part of the successful advocate. No. XXI— p. 96. The Advantages of Travel. Falconer remarks, in a note on this passage of our text : ' ' The advantages of travel are a favourite topic with Eastern poets. On this subject the reader will find, in the Asiatic Journal for September, 1839, some verses extracted from the Sikandar N'dma [Alexander-Book] of NizamI ; and in the No. for November, 1839, a gazal by Jalalu-'d-Din RiamI; and an Arabian poet has panegyrised travel in some verses which may be thus rendered : Rise ! flee the dull monotony of home ; Nor fear a friend will fail where'er j-ou roam. Go, wend from clime to clime j'our jo3'ous vva)% And Nature's lore will everj- toil repay ; Each shifting scene enkindling new delight, While languor dulls the home-devoted wight. THE AD VANTA GES OF TRA VEL. 269 Change— mid the starry host, or earth below— Works every good created beings i