Oxford and her education are thoroughly disappointing; but the sorest point therein is that this sham University satisfies the hapless Public, which knows nothing about its fainéance. It is a mere stumbling-block in the way of Progress especially barring the road to one of the main wants of English Education, a great London University which should not be ashamed to stand by Berlin, Paris and Vienna.
Had the good knight and “Pious Founder,” Sir Thomas Bodley, who established his library upon the ruins of the University Bibliotheca wrecked by the “Reformation,” been able to foresee the condition of Oxford and her libraries?Bodleian and Radcliffean?in this latter section of the XIXth century, he would hardly, I should hope, have condemned English students and Continental scholars to compulsory residence and labour in places so akin to the purgatorial.
Richard Francis Burton’s translation: detailed table of contents
Appendix B.
Richard Francis Burton’s translation: detailed table of contents
THE THREE UNTRANSLATED TALES IN MR. E. J. W. GIBB’S “FORTY VEZIRS.”
THE THIRTY-EIGHTH VEZIR’S STORY.
(Page 353 of Mr. Gibb’s translation.)
There was in the city of Cairo a merchant, and one day he bought a slave-girl, and took her to his house. There was in his house an ape; this the merchant fetched and dragged up to the slave-girl. He said, “Yield thyself over to this, and I will set thee free.” The slave-girl did so of necessity, and she conceived by him. When her time was come she bare a son all of whose members were shaped like those of a man, save that he had a tail like an ape. The merchant and the slave-girl occupied themselves bringing up this son. One day, when the son was five or six months old, the merchant filled a large cauldron with milk, and lighted a great fire under it. When it was boiling, he seized the son and cast him into the cauldron; and the girl began to lament. The merchant said, “Be silent, make no lamentation; go and be free;” and he gave her some sequins. Then he turned, and the cauldron had boiled so that not even any bones were left. The merchant took down the cauldron, and placed seven strainers, one above the other; and he took the scum that had gathered on the liquid in the cauldron and filtered it through the seven strainers, and he took that which was in the last and put it into a bottle. And the slave-girl bare in her heart bitter hatred against the merchant, and she said in herself, “Even as thou hast burned my liver will I burn thee;” and she began to watch her opportunity. (One day) the merchant said to her, “Make ready some food,” and went out. So the girl cooked the food, and she mixed some of that poison in the dish. When the merchant returned she brought the tray and laid it down, and then withdrew into a corner. The merchant took a spoonful of that food, and as soon as he put it into his mouth, he knew it to be the poison, and he cast the spoon that was in his hand at the girl. A piece, of the bigness of a pea, of that poisoned food fell from the spoon on the girl’s hand, and it made the place where it fell black. As for the merchant, he turned all black, and swelled till he became like a blown-out skin, and he died. But the slave-girl medicined herself and became well; and she kept what remained of the poison and sold it to those who asked for it.
THE FORTIETH VEZIR’S STORY.
(Page 366 in Mr. Gibb’s translation.)
There was of old time a tailor, and he had a fair wife. One day this woman sent her slave-girl to the carder’s to get some cotton teased. The slave-girl went to the carder’s shop and gave him cotton for a gown to get teased. The carder while teasing the cotton displayed his yard to the slave-girl. She blushed and passed to his other side. As she thus turned round the carder displayed his yard on that side also. Thus the slave-girl saw it on that side too. And she went and said to her mistress, “Yon carder, to whom I went, has two yards.” The lady said to her, “Go and say to yon carder, ‘My mistress wishes thee; come at night.’” So the slave-girl went and said this to the carder. As soon as it was night the carder went to that place and waited. The woman went out and met the carder and said, “Come and have to do with me while I am lying by my husband.” When it was midnight the carder came and waked the woman. The woman lay conveniently and the carder fell to work. She felt that the yard which entered her was but one, and said, “Ah my soul, carder, at it with both of them.” While she was softly speaking her husband awaked and asked, “What means thy saying, ‘At it with both of them?’” He stretched out his hand to his wife’s kaze and the carder’s yard came into it. The carder drew himself back and his yard slipped out of the fellow’s hand, and he made shift to get away. The fellow said, “Out on thee, wife, what meant that saying of thine, ‘At it with both of them?’” The woman said, “O husband, I saw in my dream that thou wast fallen into the sea and wast swimming with one hand and crying out, ‘Help! I am drowning!’ I shouted to thee from the shore, ‘At it with both of them,’ and thou begannest to swim with both thy hands.” Then the husband said, “Wife, I too know that I was in the sea, from this that a wet fish came into my hand and then slipped out and escaped; thou speakest truly.” And he loved his wife more than before.
THE LADY’S THIRTY-FOURTH STORY.
(From the India Office MS.)
(Page 399 in Mr. Gibb’s translation.)
They tell that there was a Khoja and he had an exceeding fair son, who was so beautiful that he who looked upon him was confounded. This Khoja watched over his son right carefully; he let him not come forth from a certain private chamber, and he left not the ribbon of his trousers unsealed. When the call to prayer was chanted from the minaret, the boy would ask his father saying, “Why do they cry out thus?” and the Khoja would answer, “Someone has been undone and has died, and they are calling out to bury him.” And the boy believed these words. The beauty of this boy was spoken of in Persia; and a Khoja came from Persia to Baghdad with his goods and chattels for the love of this boy. And he struck up a friendship with the boy’s father, and ever gave to him his merchandise at an easy price, and he sought to find out where his son abode. When the Khoja had discovered that the boy was kept safe in that private chamber, he one day said to his father, “I am about to go to a certain place; and I have a chest whereinto I have put whatsoever I possess of valuables; this I shall send to thee, and do thou take it and shut it up in that chamber where thy son is.” And the father answered, “Right gladly.” So the Khoja let build a chest so large that he himself might lie in it, and he put therein wine and all things needful for a carouse. Then he said to his servant, “Go, fetch a porter and take this chest to the house of Khoja Such-an-one, and say, ‘My master has sent this to remain in your charge,’ and leave it and come away. And again on the morrow go and fetch it, saying, ‘My master wishes the chest.’” So the servant went for a porter, and the Khoja hid himself in the chest. Then the boy laded the porter with the chest and took it to the other Khoja’s house, where he left it and went away. When it was night the Khoja came forth from the chest, and he saw a moon-face sleeping in the bed-clothes, and a candle was burning in a candlestick at his head; and when the Khoja beheld this he was confounded and exclaimed, “And blessed be God, the fairest of Creators!”426 Then the Khoja laid out the wine and so forth; and he went up softly and waked the boy. And the boy arose from his place and addressed himself to speak, saying, “Wherefore hast thou come here?” Straightway the Khoja filled a cup and gave it to him, saying, “Drink this, and then I shall tell thee what manner of man I am.” And he besought the boy and spread out sequins before him. So the boy took the cup and drank what was in it. When the Khoja had given him to drink three or four cups the face of the boy grew tulip-hued, and he became heated with the wine and began to sport with the Khoja. So all that night till morning did the Khoja make merry with the boy; and whatsoever his desire was, he attained thereto. When it was morning, the Khoja again went into the chest; and the servant came and laded the porter with the same and took it back to his house. And on the morrow, when the boy and his father were sitting together, the mu’ezzin chanted the call to prayer, whereupon the boy excla
imed, “Out on thee, father; and the boy who is undone dies, and so this fellow goes up there and bawls out; last night they undid me; how is it that I am not dead?” Then the father smote the boy on the mouth and said, “Speak not such words; they are a shame.” And then he knew why the chest had come.
Richard Francis Burton’s translation: detailed table of contents
FOOTNOTES SUPPLEMENTAL VOLUME IV.
1 From the Wortley Montague MS. vol. iii. p-96. J. Scott: vol. vi. p-7. Histoire du Sulthan d’Yemen et de ses trois fils; Gauttier vol. vi. p-165.
2 The worst disease in human life, now recognised as “Annus
Domini.”
3 Arab. “Mál wa Ghawál”: in Badawi parlance “Mál” would = flocks and herds (pecunia, pecus); and amongst the burghers = ready money, coin. Another favourite jingle of similar import is “Mál wa Nawál.”
This is an older form of the Sultan of Al-Yaman and his three sons, taken from M. Zotenberg’s “Chronique de Tabari,” vol. ii. p-61.
Aprčs la mort de Nizár, ses fils, en prenant possession des objets que leur pčre avait donnés ŕ chacun, eurent des contestations relativement aux autres biens. Alors ils montčrent sur des chameaux pour se rendre ŕ Nadjrân auprčs du devin, voulant soumettre ŕ son jugement le partage. Sur la route, ils rencontrčrent un terrain couvert d’herbe, dont une partie était broutée, et une partie intacte. Modhar dit: Le chameau qui a brouté cette herbe est borgne de l’il droit. Rabî’a dit: Il est boiteux du pied droit. Iyâd dit: Il a la queue coupée. Anmâr dit: Il s’est échappé des mains de son maître, parce qu’il est farouche. Un peu plus loin, ils rencontrčrent un homme monté sur un chameau; ils lui demandčrent qui il était. Il répondit qu’il était de telle tribu, et qu’il était ŕ la recherche d’un chameau qui s’était échappé. Modhar lui dit: Ce chameau n’est-il pas borgne de l’il droit??Oui, répondit l’homme.?Ne penche-t-il pas du côté droit? demanda Rabî’a.?Oui.?Il n’a pas de queue, dit Iyâd.?C’est vrai, répondit l’homme.?Anmâr ajouta: Il est farouche.?Oui, dit l’homme; oů est-il, ce chameau??Nous ne l’avons pas vu, dirent les frčres.?Si vous ne l’avez vu, réplique l’homme, comment savez-vous toutes ces particularités? Il insista et dit: C’est certainement vous qui l’avez; rendez-le moi.?Nous ne l’avons pas. Il leur demanda oů ils allaient. Les frčres lui dirent qu’ils se rendaient ŕ Nadjrân, auprčs d’Af’a, le devin, pour soumettre ŕ son jugement un différend qui s’était élevé entre eux. Cet homme, qui était seul, s’attacha ŕ leurs pas, et suivit les quatre frčres jusqu’ŕ Nadjrân.
Af’a ne les connaissait pas, mais il les re{ç}ut gracieusement et leur demanda le but de leur voyage. Ils lui dirent: Notre pčre est mort, et nous ne pouvons pas nous accorder sur la partage de ses biens; nous sommes venus afin que tu prononces entre nous quatre; nous sommes tombés d’accord de nous soumettre ŕ ton jugement. Alors le propriétaire du chameau dit: Arrange d’abord l’affaire de mon chameau entre eux et moi; j’ai perdu un chameau, ce sont eux qui le tiennent. Af’a lui dit: Comment sais-tu qu’ils l’ont? L’homme répondit: Parce qu’ils m’ont donné son signalement: s’ils ne l’avaient pas vu, comment le sauraient-ils? Modhar dit: J’ai reconnu que ce chameau était borgne de l’il droit, parce qu’il avait brouté l’herbe d’un côté seulement, et qu’il ne l’avait pas touché du côté oů elle était meilleure. Rabî’a dit: J’ai remarqué que son pied droit avait imprimé sur le sol des traces bien marquées et je n’ai vu celles de l’autre pied; de lŕ j’ai su qu’il penchait du côté droit. Iyâd dit: J’ai vu que ses crottins étaient réunis en tas, comme ceux du buf, et non comme sont ordinairement ceux du chameau, qui les écrase (éparpille?) avec sa queue; j’ai reconnu par lŕ qu’il n’avait pas de queue. Anmâr dit: J’ai remarqué que l’herbe n’était pas broutée ŕ un seul et męme endroit, mais qu’il avait pris partout une bouchée: j’ai su que le chameau était d’un caract{č}re farouche et inquiet. Le devin admirait le savoir et l’intelligence des quatre frčres. Cette maničre de juger fait partie de l’art de la divination, et on l’appelle bâb al-tazkîn; c’est une des branches de la science. Ensuite le devin dit au propriétaire de chameau: Ces gens-lŕ n’ont pas ton chameau; va-t’en. Ayant demandé aux quatre frčres qui ils étaient, et ceux-ci lui ayant déclaré qu’ils étaient les fils de Nizâr, fils de Ma’add, fils d’Adnân, le devin dit: excusez-moi de ne vous avoir pas reconnus; j’ai été lié d’amitié avec votre pčre: soyez mes hôtes ce jour et cette nuit, demain j’arrangerai votre affaire. Ils consentirent. Le pčre et les ancętres de ce devin avaient été chefs de Nadjrân.
Le devin leur fit préparer un repas. On leur servit un agneau rôti et une cruche de vin, et ils mangčrent. Lorsque le vin leur monta ŕ la tęte, Modhar dit: Je n’ai jamais bu un vin plus doux que celui-ci; mais il vient d’une vigne plantée sur un tombeau. Rabî’a dit: Je n’ai jamais mangé de la viande d’agneau plus succulente que celle-ci; mais cette agneau a été nourri du lait d’une chienne. Anmâr dit: {L}e blé qui a servi ŕ faire le pain que nous venons de manger a été semé dans un cimetičre. Iyâd dit: Notre hôte est un excellent homme; mais il n’est pas un fils légitime; ce n’est pas son pčre (légal) qui l’a engendré, mais un autre homme; sa mčre l’a conçut dans l’adultčre.
Le devin recueillit leurs paroles, mais il ne leur en dit rien. Quand la nuit fut venue et qu’ils furent endormis, il appela son intendant et lui demanda de quelle vigne provenait le vin (que l’on avait servi aux hôtes). L’intendant dit: Une vigne a poussée sur le tombeau de ton pčre et elle est devenue grande; j’en ai recueilli le raisin, et ce vin en provient. Ensuite le devin fit venir le berger, et le questionna relativement ŕ l’agneau. Le berger dit: Quand cet agneau vint au monde, il était trčs-joli; mais s{a} mčre mourut, et il n’y avait pas alors de brebis qui e{u}t mis bas. Une chienne avait eu des petits; je mis cet agneau avec la chienne jusqu’ŕ ce qu’il f{u}t grand. Je n’en ai pas trouvé de meilleur pour te l’apporter, lorsque tu m’as fait demander un agneau. Enfin le devin appela le métayer, et l’interrogea sur le blé. Le métayer lui dit: Il y a d’un côté de notre champ un cimetičre. Cette année-ci j’ai ensemencé une partie du cimetičre, et c’est de lŕ que provient le blé que je t’ai apporté. Le devin, fort étonné de ces explications, dit: Maintenant c’est le tour de ma mčre. Il alla trouver sa mčre et lui dit: Si tu ne m’avoues pas la vérité en ce qui me concerne, je te fais mourir. Sa mčre parla ainsi: Ton pčre était le chef de ce peuple et possédait de grandes richesses. Comme je n’avais pas d’enfant de lui, je craignis qu’ŕ sa mort ses biens ne tombassent entre des mains étrangčres et qu’un autre ne prit le pouvoir. Un Arabe, homme de belle figure, fut un jour l’hôte de ton pčre; je m’abandonnai ŕ lui, la nuit; je devins enceinte, et c’est ŕ lui que tu dois ta naissance. J’ai dit ŕ ton pčre que tu avais été engendré par lui.
Le lendemain, le devin interrogea les quatres frčres sur leur paroles, en disant: Je veux que vous me fassiez connaître comment vous avez su les choses que vous avez dites. Modhar, le premier, lui dit: Je su que la vigne était plantée sur un tombeau, parce que, quand nous avions bu le vin, nous devenions tristes et nous avions la figure altérée; ce qui n’est pas l’effet ordinaire du vin. Le deuxičme, dit: J’ai reconnu ce qui concernait l’agneau, parce que nous n’avions mangé de viande plus douce que celle-lŕ, et qu’il n’y a, dans le monde, rien de plus doux que le lait de la chienne. Le troisičme dit: Les Arabes honorent beaucoup leurs hôtes; lorsqu’ils traitent des hôtes, ils restent avec eux et partagent leur repas; mais toi tu nous as fait servir le repas, tu nous as quittés et tu t’{a}s mis ŕ épier nos paroles. J’ai reconnu par lŕ ta condition; j’ai remarqué que tu n’avais pas la gravité des Arabes, et j’ai pensé qu’il y avait quelque illégalité dans ton origine. Le quatričme dit: J’ai reconnu la qualité du blé, parce que le blé semé dans un cimetičre donne au pain un goűt de terre; et j’ai trouvé ce goűt dans ce pain. Le devin leur dit: Vous ętes plus savant que moi; vous n’avez pas besoin de mon jugement. Ils répliqučrent: Quan
d deux personnes ont un differend, il faut un tiers pour juger, qu’il soit savant ou non. Ce sont les derničres volontés de notre pčre, qui nous a dit de nous en rapporter ŕ ton jugement, si nous n’étions pas d’accord sur l’héritage. Le devin dit: Indiquez-moi exactement ce que votre pčre a donné ŕ chacun de vous et ce qu’il a laissé. Notre pčre, dirent-ils, a laissé de l’or, de l’argent, des chevaux, des moutons, des tapis et des vases de toute espčce et en grand nombre. Ils racontčrent ensuite ce que leur pčre avait donné ŕ chacun d’eux. Le devin dit: Laissez ŕ Modhar tout ce que votre pčre avait en fait d’or et de chameaux; car ces objets sont rouges. Donnez les chevaux, les esclaves et les vętements noirs ŕ Rabî’a; les esclaves blancs, l’argent et les vętements blancs ŕ Iyâd, et les tapis et les moutons ŕ Anmâr. Les quatre frčres acceptčrent cette sentence, et s’en retournčrent.
4 In the W. M. MS. the sisters are called “Shahrzádeh” (= City-born) and “Dinárzádeh” (= ducat-born) and the royal brothers Shahrbáz (= City-player or City-falcon) and Kahramán (vol. i. ) alias Samarbán (ibid.). I shall retain the old spelling.
One Thousand and One Nights Page 1170