{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16949/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16949","id":"gutenberg_16949","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16949","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore","Middle Eastern literature -- History and criticism"],"text":"Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n    \"The smiling Garden of Persian Literature\": a Garden which I\n    would describe, in the Eastern style, as a happy spot, where\n    lavish Nature with profusion strews the most fragrant and\n    blooming flowers, where the most delicious fruits abound, which\n    is ever vocal with the plaintive melancholy of the nightingale,\n    who, during day and night, \"tunes her love-laboured song\": ...\n    where the voice of Wisdom is often heard uttering her moral\n    sentence, or delivering the dictates of experience.--SIR W. OUSELEY.\n\n\n\n\nFLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN,\n\nAND\n\nOTHER PAPERS.\n\n\nBY W. A. CLOUSTON,\n\n\nAUTHOR OF 'POPULAR TALES AND FICTIONS' AND 'BOOK OF NOODLES'; EDITOR OF\n'A GROUP OF EASTERN ROMANCES AND STORIES,' 'BOOK OF SINDIBAD,' 'BAKHTYAR\nNAMA,' 'ARABIAN POETRY FOR ENGLISH READERS,' ETC.\n\n\nLONDON:\nDAVID NUTT, 270, 271, STRAND.\nMDCCCXC.\n\n\n\n\nTO E. SIDNEY HARTLAND, ESQ.,\n\nFELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES; MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL OF THE\nFOLK-LORE SOCIETY, ETC.\n\n\nMY DEAR HARTLAND,\n\nThough you are burdened with the duties of a profession far outside of\nwhich lie those studies that have largely occupied my attention for many\nyears past, yet your own able contributions to the same, or cognate,\nsubjects of investigation evince the truth of the seemingly paradoxical\nsaying, that \"the busiest man finds the greatest amount of leisure.\" And\nin dedicating this little book to you--would that it were more\nworthy!--as a token of gratitude for the valuable help you have often\nrendered me in the course of my studies, I am glad of the opportunity it\naffords me for placing on record (so to say) the fact that I enjoy the\nfriendship of a man possessed of so many excellent qualities of heart as\nwell as of intellect.\n\nThe following collection of essays, or papers, is designed to suit the\ntastes of a more numerous class of readers than were some of my former\nbooks, which are not likely to be of special interest to many besides\nstudents of comparative folk-lore--amongst whom your own degree is high.\nThe book, in fact, is intended mainly for those who are rather vaguely\ntermed \"general readers\"; albeit I venture to think that even the\nfolk-lore student may find in it somewhat to \"make a note of,\" as the\ngreat Captain Cuttle was wont to say--in season and out of season.\n\nLeaving the contents to speak for themselves, I shall only say farther\nthat my object has been to bring together, in a handy volume, a series\nof essays which might prove acceptable to many readers, whether of grave\nor lively temperament. What are called \"instructive\" books--meaning\nthereby \"morally\" instructive--are generally as dull reading as is\nproverbially a book containing nothing but jests--good, bad, and\nindifferent. We can't (and we shouldn't) be always in the \"serious\"\nmood, nor can we be for ever on the grin; and it seems to me that a\nmental dietary, by turns, of what is wise and of what is witty should be\nmost wholesome. But, of the two, I confess I prefer to take the former,\neven as one ought to take solid food, in great moderation; and, after\nall, it is surely better to laugh than to mope or weep, in spite of what\nhas been said of \"the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind.\" Most of\nus, in this work-a-day world, find no small benefit from allowing our\nminds to lie fallow at certain times, as farmers do with their fields.\nIn the following pages, however, I believe wisdom and wit, the didactic\nand the diverting, will be found in tolerably fair proportions.\n\nBut I had forgot--I am not writing a Preface, and this is already too\nlong for a Dedication; so believe me, with all good wishes,\n\nYours ever faithfully,\nW. A. CLOUSTON.\nGLASGOW, February, 1890.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nFLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN.\n\n    I  Sketch of the Life of the Persian Poet Saadi--Character of his\n       Writings--the _Gulistan_, or Rose-Garden--Prefaces to\n       Books--Preface to the _Gulistan_--Eastern Poets in praise of\n       Springtide\n\n   II  Boy's Archery Feat--Advantages of Abstinence--Nushirvan on\n       Oppression--Boy in terror at Sea--Pride of Ancestry--Misfortunes\n       of Friends--Fortitude and Liberality--Prodigality--Stupid\n       Youth--Advantages of Education--The Fair Cup-bearer--'January and\n       May'--Why an Old Man did not Marry--The Dervish who became\n       King--Muezzin and Preacher who had bad voices--Witty Slave--Witty\n       Kazi--Astrologer and his Faithless Wife--Objectionable Neighbour\n\n  III  On Taciturnity: Parallels from Caxton's _Dictes_ and preface to\n       _Kalila wa Dimna_--Difference between Devotee and Learned Man--To\n       get rid of Troublesome Visitors--Fable of the Nightingale and the\n       Ant--Aphorisms of Saadi--Conclusion\n\n\nORIENTAL WIT AND HUMOUR.\n\n    I  Man a Laughing Animal--Antiquity of Popular Jests--'Night and\n       Day'--The Plain-featured Bride--The House of Condolence--The\n       Blind Man's Wife--Two Witty Persian Ladies--Woman's Counsel--The\n       Turkish Jester: in the Pulpit; the Cauldron; the Beggar; the\n       Drunken Governor; the Robber; the Hot Broth--Muslim Preachers and\n       Misers\n\n   II  The Two Deaf Men and the Traveller--The Deaf Persian and the\n       Horseman--Lazy Servants--Chinese Humour: The Rich Man and the\n       Smiths; How to keep Plants alive; Criticising a Portrait--The\n       Persian Courtier and his old Friend--The Scribe--The Schoolmaster\n       and the Wit--The Persian and his Cat--A List of Blockheads--The\n       Arab and his Camel--A Witty Baghdadi--The Unlucky Slippers\n\n  III  The Young Merchant of Baghdad; or, the Wiles of Woman\n\n   IV  Ashaab the Covetous--The Stingy Merchant and the Hungry\n       Bedouin--The Sect of Samradians--The Story-teller and the\n       King--Royal Gifts to Poets--The Persian Poet and the\n       Impostor--'Stealing Poetry'--The Rich Man and the Poor Poet\n\n    V  Unlucky Omens--The Old Man's Prayer--The Old Woman in the\n       Mosque--The Weeping Turkmans--The Ten Foolish Peasants--The\n       Wakeful Servant--The Three Dervishes--The Oilman's Parrot--The\n       Moghul and his Parrot--The Persian Shopkeeper and the Prime\n       Minister--Hebrew Facetiae\n\n\nTALES OF A PARROT.\n\n    I  General Plan of Eastern Story-books--The _Tuti Nama_, or\n       Parrot-Book--The Frame-story--The Stolen Images--The Woman carved\n       out of Wood--The Man whose Mare was kicked by a Merchant's Horse\n\n   II  The Emperor's Dream--The Golden Apparition--The Four\n       Treasure-seekers\n\n  III  The Singing Ass: the Foolish Thieves: the Faggot-maker and the\n       Magic Bowl\n\n   IV  The Goldsmith who lost his Life through Covetousness--The King\n       who died of Love for a Merchant's Daughter--The Discovery of\n       Music--The Seven Requisites of a Perfect Woman\n\n    V  The Princess of Rome and her Son--The Seven Vazirs\n\n   VI  The Tree of Life--Legend of Raja Rasalu--Conclusion\n\n  _ADDITIONAL NOTE:_\n       The Magic Bowl, etc.\n\n\nRABBINICAL LEGENDS, TALES, FABLES, AND APHORISMS.\n\n    I  INTRODUCTORY: Authors, Traducers, and Moral Teachings of Talmud\n\n   II  LEGENDS OF SOME BIBLICAL CHARACTERS: Adam and Eve--Cain and\n       Abel--The Planting of the Vine--Luminous Jewels--Abraham's\n       Arrival in Egypt--The Infamous Citizens of Sodom--Abraham and\n       Ishmael's Wives--Joseph and Potiphar's Wife--Joseph and his\n       Brethren--Jacob's Sorrow--Moses and Pharaoh\n\n  III  LEGENDS OF DAVID AND SOLOMON, etc.\n\n   IV  MORAL AND ENTERTAINING TALES: Rabbi Jochonan and the Poor\n       Woman--A Safe Investment--The Jewels--The Capon-carver\n\n    V  MORAL TALES, TABLES, AND PARABLES: The Dutiful Son--An Ingenious\n       Will--Origin of Beast-Fables--The Fox and the Bear--The Fox in\n       the Garden--The Desolate Island--The Man and his Three\n       Friends--The Garments--Solomon's Choice--Bride and\n       Bridegroom--Abraham and the Idols--The Vanity of Ambition--The\n       Seven Stages of Human Life\n\n   VI  WISE SAYINGS OF THE RABBIS\n\n  _ADDITIONAL NOTES:_\n       Adam and the Oil of Mercy\n       Muslim Legend of Adam's Punishment, Pardon, Death, and Burial\n       Moses and the Poor Woodcutter\n       Precocious Sagacity of Solomon\n       Solomon and the Serpent's Prey\n       The Capon-carver\n       The Fox and the Bear\n       The Desolate Island\n       Other Rabbinical Legends and Tales\n\n\nAN ARABIAN TALE OF LOVE.\n\n  _ADDITIONAL NOTES:_\n       'Wamik and Asra'\n       Another Famous Arabian Lover\n\n\nAPOCRYPHAL LIFE OF ESOP.\n\n  _ADDITIONAL NOTE:_\n       Drinking the Sea Dry\n\n\nIGNORANCE OF THE CLERGY IN THE MIDDLE AGES.\n\n\nTHE BEARDS OF OUR FATHERS.\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\n\n\nFLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nSKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE PERSIAN POET SAADI--CHARACTER OF HIS\nWRITINGS--THE \"GULISTAN\"--PREFACES TO BOOKS--PREFACE TO THE\n\"GULISTAN\"--EASTERN POETS IN PRAISE OF SPRINGTIDE.\n\n\nIt is remarkable how very little the average general reader knows\nregarding the great Persian poet Saadi and his writings. His name is\nperhaps more or less familiar to casual readers from its being appended\nto one or two of his aphorisms which are sometimes reproduced in odd\ncorners of popular periodicals; but who he was, when he lived, and what\nhe wrote, are questions which would probably puzzle not a few, even of\nthose who consider themselves as \"well read,\" to answer without first\nrecurring to some encyclopaedia. Yet Saadi was assuredly one of the most\ngifted men of genius the world has ever known: a man of large and\ncomprehensive intellect; an original and profound thinker; an acute\nobserver of men and manners; and his works remain the imperishable\nmonument of his genius, learning, and industry.\n\nMaslahu 'd-Din Shaykh Saadi was born, towards the close of the twelfth\ncentury, at Shiraz, the famous capital of Fars, concerning which city\nthe Persians have the saying that \"if Muhammed had tasted the pleasures\nof Shiraz, he would have begged Allah to make him immortal there.\" In\naccordance with the usual practice in Persia, he assumed as his\n_takhallus_, or poetical name,[1] Saadi, from his patron Atabag Saad bin\nZingi, sovereign of Fars, who encouraged men of learning in his\nprincipality. Saadi is said to have lived upwards of a hundred years,\nthirty of which were passed in the acquisition of knowledge, thirty more\nin travelling through different countries, and the rest of his life he\nspent in retirement and acts of devotion. He died, in his native city,\nabout the year 1291.\n\n    [1] One reason, doubtless, for Persian and Turkish poets\n        adopting a _takhallus_ is the custom of the poet\n        introducing his name into every ghazal he composes,\n        generally towards the end; and as his proper name would\n        seldom or never accommodate itself to purposes of verse\n        he selects a more suitable one.\n\nAt one period of his life Saadi took part in the wars of the Saracens\nagainst the Crusaders in Palestine, and also in the wars for the faith\nin India. In the course of his wanderings he had the misfortune to be\ntaken prisoner by the Franks, in Syria, and was ransomed by a friend,\nbut only to fall into worse thraldom by marrying a shrewish wife. He has\nthus related the circumstances:\n\n\"Weary of the society of my friends at Damascus, I fled to the barren\nwastes of Jerusalem, and associated with brutes, until I was made\ncaptive by the Franks, and forced to dig clay along with Jews in the\nfortress of Tripoli. One of the nobles of Aleppo, mine ancient friend,\nhappened to pass that way and recollected me. He said: 'What a state is\nthis to be in! How farest thou?' I answered: 'Seeing that I could place\nconfidence in God alone, I retired to the mountains and wilds, to avoid\nthe society of man; but judge what must be my situation, to be confined\nin a stall, in company with wretches who deserve not the name of men.\n\"To be confined by the feet with friends is better than to walk in a\ngarden with strangers.\"' He took compassion on my forlorn condition,\nransomed me from the Franks for ten dinars,[2] and took me with him to\nAleppo.\n\n    [2] A dinar is a gold coin, worth about ten shillings of our\n        money.\n\n\"My friend had a daughter, to whom he married me, and he presented me\nwith a hundred dinars as her dower. After some time my wife unveiled her\ndisposition, which was ill-tempered, quarrelsome, obstinate, and\nabusive; so that the happiness of my life vanished. It has been well\nsaid: 'A bad woman in the house of a virtuous man is hell even in this\nworld.' Take care how you connect yourself with a bad woman. Save us, O\nLord, from the fiery trial! Once she reproached me, saying: 'Art thou\nnot the creature whom my father ransomed from captivity amongst the\nFranks for ten dinars?' 'Yes,' I answered; 'he redeemed me for ten\ndinars, and enslaved me to thee for a hundred.'\n\n\"I heard that a man once rescued a sheep from the mouth of a wolf, but\nat night drew his knife across its throat. The expiring sheep thus\ncomplained: 'You delivered me from the jaws of a wolf, but in the end I\nperceive you have yourself become a wolf to me.'\"\n\nSir Gore Ouseley, in his _Biographical Notices of Persian Poets_, states\nthat Saadi in the latter part of his life retired to a cell near Shiraz,\nwhere he remained buried in contemplation of the Deity, except when\nvisited, as was often the case, by princes, nobles, and learned men. It\nwas the custom of his illustrious visitors to take with them all kinds\nof meats, of which, when Saadi and his company had partaken, the shaykh\nalways put what remained in a basket suspended from his window, that the\npoor wood-cutters of Shiraz, who daily passed by his cell, might\noccasionally satisfy their hunger.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe writings of Saadi, in prose as well as verse, are numerous; his best\nknown works being the _Gulistan_, or Rose-Garden, and the _Bustan_, or\nGarden of Odours. Among his other compositions are: an essay on Reason\nand Love; Advice to Kings; Arabian and Persian idylls, and a book of\nelegies, besides a large collection of odes and sonnets. Saadi was an\naccomplished linguist, and composed several poems in the languages of\nmany of the countries through which he travelled. \"I have wandered to\nvarious regions of the world,\" he tells us, \"and everywhere have I mixed\nfreely with the inhabitants. I have gathered something in each corner; I\nhave gleaned an ear from every harvest.\" A deep insight into the secret\nsprings of human actions; an extensive knowledge of mankind; fervent\npiety, without a taint of bigotry; a poet's keen appreciation of the\nbeauties of nature; together with a ready wit and a lively sense of\nhumour, are among the characteristics of Saadi's masterly compositions.\nNo writer, ancient or modern, European or Asiatic, has excelled, and few\nhave equalled, Saadi in that rare faculty for condensing profound moral\ntruths into short, pithy sentences. For example:\n\n\"The remedy against want is to moderate your desires.\"\n\n\"There is a difference between him who claspeth his mistress in his\narms, and him whose eyes are fixed on the door expecting her.\"\n\n\"Whoever recounts to you the faults of your neighbour will doubtless\nexpose your defects to others.\"\n\nHis humorous comparisons flash upon the reader's mind with curious\neffect, occurring, as they often do, in the midst of a grave discourse.\nThus he says of a poor minstrel: \"You would say that the sound of his\nbow would burst the arteries, and that his voice was more discordant\nthan the lamentations of a man for the death of his father;\" and of\nanother bad singer: \"No one with a mattock can so effectually scrape\nclay from the face of a hard stone as his discordant voice harrows up\nthe soul.\"\n\nTalking of music reminds me of a remark of the learned Gentius, in one\nof his notes on the _Gulistan_ of Saadi, that music was formerly in such\nconsideration in Persia that it was a maxim of their sages that when a\nking was about to die, if he left for his successor a very young son,\nhis aptitude for reigning should be proved by some agreeable songs; and\nif the child was pleasurably affected, then it was a sign of his\ncapacity and genius, but if the contrary, he should be declared\nunfit.--It would appear that the old Persian musicians, like Timotheus,\nknew the secret art of swaying the passions. The celebrated philosopher\nAl-Farabi (who died about the middle of the tenth century), among his\naccomplishments, excelled in music, in proof of which a curious anecdote\nis told. Returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca, he introduced himself,\nthough a stranger, at the court of Sayfu 'd-Dawla, sultan of Syria, when\na party of musicians chanced to be performing, and he joined them. The\nprince admired his skill, and, desiring to hear something of his own,\nAl-Farabi unfolded a composition, and distributed the parts amongst the\nband. The first movement threw the prince and his courtiers into violent\nlaughter, the next melted all into tears, and the last lulled even the\nperformers to sleep. At the retaking of Baghdad by the Turks in 1638,\nwhen the springing of a mine, whereby eight hundred jannisaries\nperished, was the signal for a general massacre, and thirty thousand\nPersians were put to the sword, a Persian musician named Shah-Kuli, who\nwas brought before the sultan Murad, played and sang so sweetly, first a\nsong of triumph, and then a dirge, that the sultan, moved to pity by the\nmusic, gave order to stop the slaughter.\n\nTo resume, after this anecdotical digression. Saadi gives this whimsical\npiece of advice to a pugnacious fellow: \"Be sure, either that thou art\nstronger than thine enemy, or that thou hast a swifter pair of heels.\"\nAnd he relates a droll story in illustration of the use and abuse of the\nphrase, \"For the sake of God,\" which is so frequently in the mouths of\nMuslims: A harsh-voiced man was reading the Kuran in a loud tone. A\npious man passed by him and said: \"What is thy monthly salary?\" The\nother replied: \"Nothing.\" \"Why, then, dost thou give thyself this\ntrouble?\" \"I read for the sake of God,\" he rejoined. \"Then,\" said the\npious man, \"_for God's sake don't read_.\"\n\nThe most esteemed of Saadi's numerous and diversified works is the\n_Gulistan_, or Rose-Garden. The first English translation of this work\nwas made by Francis Gladwin, and published in 1808, and it is a very\nscarce book. Other translations have since been issued, but they are\nrather costly and the editions limited. It is strange that in these days\nof cheap reprints of rare and excellent works of genius no enterprising\npublisher should have thought it worth reproduction in a popular form.\nIt is not one of those ponderous tomes of useless learning which not\neven an Act of Parliament could cause to be generally read, and which no\npublisher would be so blind to his own interests as to reprint. As\nregards its size, the _Gulistan_ is but a small book, but intrinsically\nit is indeed a very great book, such as could only be produced by a\ngreat mind, and it comprises more wisdom and wit than a score of old\nEnglish folios could together yield to the most devoted reader. Some\nquerulous persons there are who affect to consider the present as a\nshallow age, because, forsooth, huge volumes of learning--each the\nlabour of a lifetime--are not now produced. But the flood-gates of\nknowledge are now wide open, and, no longer confined within the old,\nnarrow, if deep, channels, learning has spread abroad, like the Nile\nduring the season of its over-flow. Shallow, it may be, but more widely\nbeneficial, since its life-giving waters are within the reach of all.\n\nUnlike most of our learned old English authors, Saadi did not cast upon\nthe world all that came from the rich mine of his genius, dross as well\nas fine gold, clay as well as gems. It is because they have done so that\nmany ponderous tomes of learning and industry stand neglected on the\nshelves of great libraries. Time is too precious now-a-days, whatever\nmay have been the case of our forefathers, for it to be dissipated by\ndiving into the muddy waters of voluminous authors in hopes of finding\nan occasional pearl of wisdom. And unless some intelligent and\npainstaking compiler set himself to the task of separating the gold from\nthe rubbish in which it is imbedded in those graves of learning, and\npresent the results of his labour in an attractive form, such works are\nvirtually lost to the world. For in these high-pressure days, most of\nus, \"like the dogs in Egypt for fear of the crocodiles, must drink of\nthe waters of knowledge as we run, in dread of the old enemy Time.\"\n\nSaadi, however, in his _Gulistan_ sets forth only his well-pondered\nthoughts in the most felicitous and expressive language. There is no\nneed to form an abstract or epitome of a work in which nothing is\nsuperfluous, nothing valueless. But, as in a cabinet of gems some are\nmore beautiful than others, or as in a garden some flowers are more\nattractive from their brilliant hues and fragrant odours, so a selection\nmay be made of the more striking tales and aphorisms of the illustrious\nPersian philosopher.\n\nThe preface to the _Gulistan_ is one of the most pleasing portions of\nthe whole book. Now prefaces are among those parts of books which are\ntoo frequently \"skipped\" by readers--they are \"taken as read.\" Why this\nshould be so, I confess I cannot understand. For my part, I make a point\nof reading a preface at least twice: first, because I would know what\nreasons my author had for writing his book, and again, having read his\nbook, because the preface, if well written, may serve also as a sort of\nappendix. Authors are said to bestow particular pains on their prefaces.\nCervantes, for instance, tells us that the preface to the first part of\n_Don Quixote_ cost him more thought than the writing of the entire work.\n\"It argues a deficiency of taste,\" says Isaac D'Israeli, \"to turn over\nan elaborate preface unread; for it is the essence of the author's\nroses--every drop distilled at an immense cost.\" And, no doubt, it is a\ngreat slight to an author to skip his preface, though it cannot be\ndenied that some prefaces are very tedious, because the writer \"spins\nout the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument,\"\nand none but the most _hardy_ readers can persevere to the distant end.\nThe Italians call a preface _salsa del libro_, the _salt_ of the book. A\npreface may also be likened to the porch of a mansion, where it is not\ncourteous to keep a visitor waiting long before you open the door and\nmake him free of your house. But the reader who passes over the preface\nto the _Gulistan_ unread loses not a little of the spice of that\nfascinating and instructive book. He who reads it, however, is rewarded\nby the charming account which the author gives of how he came to form\nhis literary Rose-Garden:\n\n\"It was the season of spring; the air was temperate and the rose in full\nbloom. The vestments of the trees resembled the festive garments of the\nfortunate. It was mid-spring, when the nightingales were chanting from\ntheir pulpits in the branches. The rose, decked with pearly dew, like\nblushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It happened once that I was\nbenighted in a garden, in company with a friend. The spot was\ndelightful: the trees intertwined; you would have said that the earth\nwas bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was\nsuspended from the branch of the vine. A garden with a running stream,\nand trees whence birds were warbling melodious strains: that filled with\ntulips of various hues; these loaded with fruits of several kinds. Under\nthe shade of its trees the zephyr had spread the variegated carpet.\n\n\"In the morning, when the desire to return home overcame our inclination\nto remain, I saw in my friend's lap a collection of roses, odoriferous\nherbs, and hyacinths, which he intended to carry to town. I said: 'You\nare not ignorant that the flower of the garden soon fadeth, and that the\nenjoyment of the rose-bush is of short continuance; and the sages have\ndeclared that the heart ought not to be set upon anything that is\ntransitory.' He asked: 'What course is then to be pursued?' I replied:\n'I am able to form a book of roses, which will delight the beholders and\ngratify those who are present; whose leaves the tyrannic arm of autumnal\nblasts can never affect, or injure the blossoms of its spring. What\nbenefit will you derive from a basket of flowers? Carry a leaf from my\ngarden: a rose may continue in bloom five or six days, but this\nRose-Garden will flourish for ever.' As soon as I had uttered these\nwords, he flung the flowers from his lap, and, laying hold of the skirt\nof my garment, exclaimed: 'When the beneficent promise, they faithfully\ndischarge their engagements.' In the course of a few days two chapters\nwere written in my note-book, in a style that may be useful to orators\nand improve the skill of letter-writers. In short, while the rose was\nstill in bloom, the book called the Rose-Garden was finished.\"\n\nDr. Johnson has remarked that \"there is scarcely any poet of eminence\nwho has not left some testimony of his fondness for the flowers, the\nzephyrs, and the warblers of the spring.\" This is pre-eminently the case\nof Oriental poets, from Solomon downwards: \"Rise up, my love, my fair\none, and come away,\" exclaims the Hebrew poet in his Book of Canticles:\n\"for lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone: the flowers\nappear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds has come, and the\nvoice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her\ngreen fruits, and the vines with the tender grapes give forth a good\nsmell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.\"\n\nIn a Persian poem written in the 14th century the delights of the vernal\nseason are thus described: \"On every bush roses were blowing; on every\nbranch the nightingale was plaintively warbling. The tall cypress was\ndancing in the garden; and the poplar never ceased clapping its hands\nwith joy. With a loud voice from the top of every bough the turtle-dove\nwas proclaiming the glad advent of spring. The diadem of the narcissus\nshone with such splendour that you would have said it was the crown of\nthe Emperor of China. On this side the north wind, on that, the west\nwind, were, in token of affection, scattering dirhams at the feet of the\nrose.[3] The earth was musk-scented, the air musk-laden.\"\n\n    [3] Referring to the custom of throwing small coins among\n        crowds in the street on the occasion of a wedding. A\n        dirham is a coin nearly equal in value to sixpence of\n        our money.\n\nBut it would be difficult to adduce from the writings of any poet,\nEuropean or Asiatic, anything to excel the charming ode on spring, by\nthe Turkish poet Mesihi, who flourished in the 15th century, which has\nbeen rendered into graceful English verse, and in the measure of the\noriginal, by my friend Mr. E. J. W. Gibb, in his dainty volume of\n_Ottoman Poems_, published in London a few years ago. These are some of\nthe verses from that fine ode:\n\n  Hark! the bulbul's[4] lay so joyous: \"Now have come the days of spring!\"\n  Merry shows and crowds on every mead they spread, a maze of spring;\n  There the almond-tree its silvery blossoms scatters, sprays of spring:\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_[5]\n\n  Once again, with flow'rets decked themselves have mead and plain;\n  Tents for pleasure have the blossoms raised in every rosy lane;\n  Who can tell, when spring hath ended, who and what may whole remain?\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Sparkling dew-drops stud the lily's leaf like sabre broad and keen;\n  Bent on merry gipsy party, crowd they all the flow'ry green!\n  List to me, if thou desirest, these beholding, joy to glean:\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_\n\n  Rose and tulip, like to maidens' cheeks, all beauteous show,\n  Whilst the dew-drops, like the jewels in their ears, resplendent glow;\n  Do not think, thyself beguiling, things will aye continue so:\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Whilst each dawn the clouds are shedding jewels o'er the rosy land,\n  And the breath of morning zephyr, fraught with Tatar musk, is bland;\n  Whilst the world's fair time is present, do not thou unheeding stand:\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_\n\n  With the fragrance of the garden, so imbued the musky air,\n  Every dew-drop, ere it reaches earth, is turned to attar rare;\n  O'er the parterre spread the incense-clouds a canopy right fair:\n  _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, Biding not, the days of spring!_\n\n    [4] The nightingale.\n\n    [5] In the original Turkish:\n\n          _Dinleh bulbul kissa sen kim gildi eiyami behar!\n          Kurdi her bir baghda hengamei hengami behar;\n          Oldi sim afshan ana ezhari badami behar:\n          Ysh u nush it kim gicher kalmaz bu eiyami behar._\n\n        Here we have an example of the _redif_, which is common\n        in Turkish and Persian poetry, and \"consists of one or\n        more words, always the same, added to the end of every\n        rhyming line in a poem, which word or words, though\n        counting in the scansion, are not regarded as the true\n        rhyme, which must in every case be sought for\n        immediately before them. The lines--\n\n          There shone such truth about thee,\n          I did not dare to doubt thee--\n\n        furnish an example of this in English poetry.\" In the\n        opening verse of Mesihi's ode, as above transliterated\n        in European characters, the _redif_ is \"behar,\" or\n        spring, and the word which precedes it is the true\n        rhyme-ending. Sir William Jones has made an elegant\n        paraphrase of this charming ode, in which, however, he\n        diverges considerably from the original, as will be seen\n        from his rendering of the first stanza:\n\n          Hear how the nightingale, on every spray,\n          Hails in wild notes the sweet return of May!\n          The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows,\n          The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows;\n          The smiling season decks each flowery glade--\n          Be gay; too soon the flowers of spring will fade.\n\nThis Turkish poet's maxim, it will be observed, was \"enjoy the present\nday\"--the _carpe diem_ of Horace, the genial old pagan. On the same\nsuggestive theme of Springtide a celebrated Turkish poetess, Fitnet\nKhanim (for the Ottoman Turks have poetesses of considerable genius as\nwell as poets), has composed a pleasing ode, addressed to her lord, of\nwhich the following stanzas are also from Mr. Gibb's collection:\n\n  The fresh spring-clouds across all earth their glistening pearls\n      profuse now sow;\n  The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty\n      show;\n  Of mirth and joy 'tis now the time, the hour, to wander to and fro;\n  The palm-tree o'er the fair ones' pic-nic gay its grateful shade\n      doth throw.\n\n  _O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole\n      earth glow;\n  'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_\n\n  Behold the roses, how they shine, e'en like the cheeks of maids\n      most fair;\n  The fresh-sprung hyacinth shows like to beauties' dark, sweet, musky\n      hair;\n  The loved one's form behold, like cypress which the streamlet's bank\n      doth bear;\n  In sooth, each side for soul and heart doth some delightful joy\n      prepare.\n\n  _O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole\n      earth glow;\n  'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_\n\n  The parterre's flowers have all bloomed forth, the roses, sweetly\n      smiling, shine;\n  On every side lorn nightingales, in plaintive notes discerning, pine.\n  How fair carnation and wallflower the borders of the garden line!\n  The long-haired hyacinth and jasmine both around the cypress twine.\n\n  _O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole\n      earth glow;\n  'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_\n\nI cannot resist the temptation to cite, in concluding this introductory\npaper, another fine eulogy of the delights of spring, by Amir Khusru, of\nDelhi (14th century), from his _Mihra-i-Iskandar_, which has been thus\nrendered into rhythmical prose:\n\n\"A day in spring, when all the world a pleasing picture seemed; the sun\nat early dawn with happy auspices arose. The earth was bathed in balmy\ndew; the beauties of the garden their charms displayed, the face of each\nwith brilliancy adorned. The flowers in freshness bloomed; the lamp of\nthe rose acquired lustre from the breeze; the tulip brought a cup from\nparadise; the rose-bower shed the sweets of Eden; beneath its folds the\nmusky buds remained, like a musky amulet on the neck of Beauty. The\nviolet bent its head; the fold of the bud was closer pressed; the opened\nrose in splendour glowed, and attracted every eye; the lovely flowers\noppressed with dew in tremulous motion waved. The air o'er all the\ngarden a silvery radiance threw, and o'er the flowers the breezes\nplayed; on every branch the birds attuned their notes, and every bower\nwith warblings sweet was filled, so sweet, they stole the senses. The\nearly nightingale poured forth its song, that gives a zest to those who\nquaff the morning goblet. From the turtle's soft cooings love seized\neach bird that skimmed the air.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nSTORIES FROM THE \"GULISTAN.\"\n\n\nThe _Gulistan_ consists of short tales and anecdotes, to which are\nappended comments in prose and verse, and is divided into eight\nchapters, or sections: (1) the Morals of Kings; (2) the Morals of\nDervishes; (3) the Excellence of Contentment; (4) the Advantages of\nTaciturnity; (5) Love and Youth; (6) Imbecility and Old Age; (7) the\nEffects of Education; (8) Rules for the Conduct of Life. In culling some\nof the choicest flowers of this perennial Garden, the particular order\nobserved by Saadi need not be regarded here; it is preferable to pick\nhere a flower and there a flower, as fancy may direct.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt may happen, says our author, that the prudent counsel of an\nenlightened sage does not succeed; and it may chance that an unskilful\nboy inadvertently hits the mark with his arrow: A Persian king, while on\na pleasure excursion with a number of his courtiers at Nassala Shiraz,\nappointed an archery competition for the amusement of himself and his\nfriends. He caused a gold ring, set with a valuable gem, to be fixed on\nthe dome of Asad, and it was announced that whosoever should send an\narrow through the ring should obtain it as a reward of his skill. The\nfour hundred skilled archers forming the royal body-guard each shot at\nthe ring without success. It chanced that a boy on a neighbouring\nhouse-top was at the same time diverting himself with a little bow, when\none of his arrows, shot at random, went through the ring. The boy,\nhaving obtained the prize, immediately burned his bow, shrewdly\nobserving that he did so in order that the reputation of this feat\nshould never be impaired.\n\nThe advantage of abstinence, or rather, great moderation in eating and\ndrinking, is thus curiously illustrated: Two dervishes travelled\ntogether; one was a robust man, who regularly ate three meals every day,\nthe other was infirm of body, and accustomed to fast frequently for two\ndays in succession. On their reaching the gate of a certain town, they\nwere arrested on suspicion of being spies, and both lodged, without\nfood, in the same prison, the door of which was then securely locked.\nSeveral days after, the unlucky dervishes were found to be quite\ninnocent of the crime imputed to them, and on opening the door of the\nprison the strong man was discovered to be dead, and the infirm man\nstill alive. At this circumstance the officers of justice marvelled; but\na philosopher observed, that had the contrary happened it would have\nbeen more wonderful, since the one who died had been a great eater, and\nconsequently was unable to endure the want of food, while the other,\nbeing accustomed to abstinence, had survived.\n\nOf Nushirvan the Just (whom the Greeks called Chosroe), of the Sassanian\ndynasty of Persian kings--sixth century--Saadi relates that on one\noccasion, while at his hunting-seat, he was having some game dressed,\nand ordered a servant to procure some salt from a neighbouring village,\nat the same time charging him strictly to pay the full price for it,\notherwise the exaction might become a custom. His courtiers were\nsurprised at this order, and asked the king what possible harm could\nensue from such a trifle. The good king replied: \"Oppression was brought\ninto the world from small beginnings, which every new comer increased,\nuntil it has reached the present degree of enormity.\" Upon this Saadi\nremarks: \"If the monarch were to eat a single apple from the garden of a\npeasant, the servant would pull up the tree by the roots; and if the\nking order five eggs to be taken by force, his soldiers will spit a\nthousand fowls. The iniquitous tyrant remaineth not, but the curses of\nmankind rest on him for ever.\"\n\nOnly those who have experienced danger can rightly appreciate the\nadvantages of safety, and according as a man has become acquainted with\nadversity does he recognise the value of prosperity--a sentiment which\nSaadi illustrates by the story of a boy who was in a vessel at sea for\nthe first time, in which were also the king and his officers of state.\nThe lad was in great fear of being drowned, and made a loud outcry, in\nspite of every effort of those around him to soothe him into\ntranquility. As his lamentations annoyed the king, a sage who was of the\ncompany offered to quiet the terrified youth, with his majesty's\npermission, which being granted, he caused the boy to be plunged several\ntimes in the sea and then drawn up into the ship, after which the youth\nretired to a corner and remained perfectly quiet. The king inquired why\nthe lad had been subjected to such roughness, to which the sage replied:\n\"At first he had never experienced the danger of being drowned, neither\nhad he known the safety of a ship.\"\n\nOne of our English moralists has remarked that the man who chiefly\nprides himself on his ancestry is like a potato-plant, whose best\nqualities are under ground. Saadi tells us of an old Arab who said to\nhis son: \"O my child, in the day of resurrection they will ask you what\nyou have done in the world, and not from whom you are descended.\"--In\nthe _Akhlak-i-Jalaly_, a work comprising the practical philosophy of the\nMuhammedans, written, in the 15th century, in the Persian language, by\nFakir Jani Muhammed Asaad, and translated into English by W. F. Thompson,\nAli, the Prophet's cousin, is reported to have said:\n\n  My soul is my father, my title my worth;\n  A Persian or Arab, there's little between:\n  Give me him for a comrade, whatever his birth,\n  Who shows what _he is_--not what _others have been_.\n\nAn Arabian poet says:\n\n  Be the son of whom thou wilt, try to acquire literature,\n  The acquisition of which may make pedigree unnecessary to thee;\n  Since a man of worth is he who can say, \"I am so and so,\"\n  Not he who can only say, \"My father was so and so.\"\n\nAnd again:\n\n  Ask not a man who his father was, but make trial\n  Of his qualities, and then conciliate or reject him accordingly\n  For it is no disgrace to new wine, if it only be sweet,\n  As to its taste, that it was the juice [or daughter] of sour grapes.\n\nThe often-quoted maxim of La Rochefoucauld, that there is something in\nthe misfortunes of our friends which affords us a degree of secret\npleasure, is well known to the Persians. Saadi tells us of a merchant\nwho, having lost a thousand dinars, cautioned his son not to mention the\nmatter to anyone, \"in order,\" said he, \"that we may not suffer two\nmisfortunes--the loss of our money and the secret satisfaction of our\nneighbours.\"\n\nA generous disposition is thus eloquently recommended: They asked a wise\nman, which was preferable, fortitude or liberality, to which he replied:\n\"He who possesses liberality has no need of fortitude. It is inscribed\non the tomb of Bahram-i-Gur that a liberal hand is preferable to a\nstrong arm.\" \"Hatim Tai,\" remarks Saadi, \"no longer exists, but his\nexalted name will remain famous for virtue to eternity.[6] Distribute\nthe tithe of your wealth in alms, for when the husbandman lops off the\nexuberant branches from the vine, it produces an increase of grapes.\"\n\n    [6] Hatim was chief of the Arabian tribe of Tai, shortly\n        before Muhammed began to promulgate Islam, renowned for\n        his extraordinary liberality.\n\nProdigality, however, is as much to be condemned as judicious liberality\nis to be lauded. Saadi gives the following account of a Persian prodigal\nson, who was not so fortunate in the end as his biblical prototype: The\nson of a religious man, who succeeded to an immense fortune by the will\nof his uncle, became a dissipated and debauched profligate, in so much\nthat he left no heinous crime unpractised, nor was there any\nintoxicating drug which he had not tasted. Once I admonished him,\nsaying: \"O my son, wealth is a running stream, and pleasure revolves\nlike a millstone; or, in other words, profuse expense suits him only who\nhas a certain income. When you have no certain income, be frugal in your\nexpenses, because the sailors have a song, that if the rain does not\nfall in the mountains, the Tigris will become a dry bed of sand in the\ncourse of a year. Practise wisdom and virtue, and relinquish sensuality,\nfor when your money is spent you will suffer distress and expose\nyourself to shame.\"[7] The young man, seduced by music and wine, would\nnot take my advice, but, in opposition to my arguments, said: \"It is\ncontrary to the wisdom of the sages to disturb our present enjoyments by\nthe dread of futurity. Why should they who possess fortune suffer\ndistress by anticipating sorrow? Go and be merry, O my enchanting\nfriend! We ought not to be uneasy to-day for what may happen to-morrow.\nHow would it become me, who am placed in the uppermost seat of\nliberality, so that the fame of my bounty is wide spread? When a man has\nacquired reputation by liberality and munificence, it does not become\nhim to tie up his money-bags. When your good name has been spread\nthrough the street, you cannot shut your door against it.\" I perceived\n(continues Saadi) that he did not approve of my admonition, and that my\nwarm breath did not affect his cold iron. I ceased advising, and,\nquitting his society, returned into the corner of safety, in conformity\nwith the saying of the philosophers: \"Admonish and exhort as your\ncharity requires; if they mind not, it does not concern you. Although\nthou knowest that they will not listen, nevertheless speak whatever you\nknow is advisable. It will soon come to pass that you will see the silly\nfellow with his feet in the stocks, smiting his hands and exclaiming,\n'Alas, that I did not listen to the wise man's advice!'\" After some\ntime, that which I had predicted from his dissolute conduct I saw\nverified. He was clothed in rags, and begging a morsel of food. I was\ndistressed at his wretched condition, and did not think it consistent\nwith humanity to scratch his wound with reproach. But I said in my\nheart: Profligate men, when intoxicated with pleasure, reflect not on\nthe day of poverty. The tree which in the summer has a profusion of\nfruit is consequently without leaves in winter.\n\n    [7] Auvaiyar, the celebrated poetess of the Tamils (in\n        Southern India), who is said to have flourished in the\n        ninth century, says, in her poem entitled _Nalvali_:\n\n          Mark this: who lives beyond his means\n          Forfeits respect, loses his sense;\n          Where'er he goes through the seven births,\n          All count him knave; him women scorn.\n\nThe incapacity of some youths to receive instruction is always a source\nof vexation to the pedagogue. Saadi tells us of a vazir who sent his\nstupid son to a learned man, requesting him to impart some of his\nknowledge to the lad, hoping that his mind would be improved. After\nattempting to instruct him for some time without effect, he sent this\nmessage to his father: \"Your son has no capacity, and has almost\ndistracted me. When nature has given capacity instruction will make\nimpressions; but if iron is not of the proper temper, no polishing will\nmake it good. Wash not a dog in the seven seas, for when he is wetted he\nwill only be the dirtier. If the ass that carried Jesus Christ were to\nbe taken to Mecca, at his return he would still be an ass.\"\n\nOne of the greatest sages of antiquity is reported to have said that all\nthe knowledge he had acquired merely taught him how little he did know;\nand indeed it is only smatterers who are vain of their supposed\nknowledge. A sensible young man, says Saadi, who had made considerable\nprogress in learning and virtue, was at the same time so discreet that\nhe would sit in the company of learned men without uttering a word. Once\nhis father said to him: \"My son, why do you not also say something you\nknow?\" He replied: \"I fear lest they should question me about something\nof which I am ignorant, whereby I should suffer shame.\"\n\nThe advantages of education are thus set forth by a philosopher who was\nexhorting his children: \"Acquire knowledge, for in worldly riches and\npossessions no reliance can be placed.[8] Rank will be of no use out of\nyour own country; and on a journey money is in danger of being lost, for\neither the thief may carry it off all at once, or the possessor may\nconsume it by degrees. But knowledge is a perennial spring of wealth,\nand if a man of education cease to be opulent, yet he need not be\nsorrowful, for knowledge of itself is riches.[9] A man of learning,\nwheresoever he goes, is treated with respect, and sits in the uppermost\nseat, whilst the ignorant man gets only scanty fare and encounters\ndistress.\" There once happened (adds Saadi) an insurrection in Damascus,\nwhere every one deserted his habitation. The wise sons of a peasant\nbecame the king's ministers, and the stupid sons of the vazir were\nreduced to ask charity in the villages. If you want a paternal\ninheritance, acquire from your father knowledge, for wealth may be spent\nin ten days.\n\n    [8] \"All perishes except learning.\"--_Auvaiyar_.\n\n    [9] \"Learning is really the most valuable treasure.--A wise\n        man will never cease to learn.--He who has attained\n        learning by free self-application excels other\n        philosophers.--Let thy learning be thy best\n        friend.--What we have learned in youth is like writing\n        cut in stone.--If all else should be lost, what we have\n        learned will never be lost.--Learn one thing after\n        another, but not hastily.--Though one is of low birth,\n        learning will make him respected.\"--_Auvaiyar_.\n\nIn the following charming little tale Saadi recounts an interesting\nincident in his own life: I remember that in my youth, as I was passing\nthrough a street, I cast my eyes on a beautiful girl. It was in the\nautumn, when the heat dried up all moisture from the mouth, and the\nsultry wind made the marrow boil in the bones, so that, being unable to\nsupport the sun's powerful rays, I was obliged to take shelter under the\nshade of a wall, in hopes that some one would relieve me from the\ndistressing heat, and quench my thirst with a draught of water. Suddenly\nfrom the portico of a house I beheld a female form whose beauty it is\nimpossible for the tongue of eloquence to describe, insomuch that it\nseemed as if the dawn was rising in the obscurity of night, or as if the\nWater of Immortality was issuing from the Land of Darkness. She held in\nher hand a cup of snow-water, into which she had sprinkled sugar and\nmixed with it the juice of the grape. I know not whether what I\nperceived was the fragrance of rose-water, or that she had infused into\nit a few drops from the blossom of her cheek. In short, I received the\ncup from her beauteous hand, and, drinking the contents, found myself\nrestored to new life. The thirst of my soul is not such that it can be\nallayed with a drop of pure water--the streams of whole rivers would not\nsatisfy it. How happy is that fortunate one whose eyes every morning may\nbehold such a countenance! He who is intoxicated with wine will be sober\nagain in the course of the night; but he who is intoxicated by the\ncup-bearer will never recover his senses till the day of judgment.\n\nAlas, poor Saadi! The lovely cup-bearer, who made such a lasting\nimpression on the heart of the young poet, was not destined for his\nbride. His was indeed a sad matrimonial fate; and who can doubt but that\nthe beauteous form of the stranger maiden would often rise before his\nmental view after he was married to the Xantippe who rendered some\nportion of his life unhappy!\n\nAmong the tales under the heading of \"Imbecility and Old Age\" we have\none of \"olde January that wedded was to freshe May,\" which points its\nmoral now as it did six hundred years ago: When I married a young\nvirgin, said an old man, I bedecked a chamber with flowers, sat with her\nalone, and had fixed my eyes and heart solely upon her. Many long nights\nI passed without sleep, repeating jests and pleasantries, to remove\nshyness, and make her familiar. On one of these nights I said: \"Fortune\nhas been propitious to you, in that you have fallen into the society of\nan old man, of mature judgment, who has seen the world, and experienced\nvarious situations of good and bad fortune, who knows the rights of\nsociety, and has performed the duties of friendship;--one who is\naffectionate, affable, cheerful, and conversable. I will exert my utmost\nendeavours to gain your affection, and if you should treat me unkindly I\nwill not be offended; or if, like the parrot, your food should be sugar,\nI will devote my sweet life to your support. You have not met with a\nyouth of a rude disposition, with a weak understanding, headstrong, a\ngadder, who would be constantly changing his situations and\ninclinations, sleeping every night in a new place, and every day forming\nsome new intimacy. Young men may be lively and handsome, but they are\ninconstant in their attachments. Look not thou for fidelity from those\nwho, with the eyes of the nightingale, are every instant singing upon a\ndifferent rose-bush. But old men pass their time in wisdom and good\nmanners, not in the ignorance and frivolity of youth. Seek one better\nthan yourself, and having found him, consider yourself fortunate. With\none like yourself you would pass your life without improvement.\" I spoke\na great deal after this manner (continued the old man), and thought that\nI had made a conquest of her heart, when suddenly she heaved a cold sigh\nfrom the bottom of her heart, and replied: \"All the fine speeches that\nyou have been uttering have not so much weight in the scale of my reason\nas one single sentence I have heard from my nurse, that if you plant an\narrow in the side of a young woman it is not so painful as the society\nof an old man.\" In short (continued he), it was impossible to agree, and\nour differences ended in a separation. After the time prescribed by law,\nshe married a young man of an impetuous temper, ill-natured, and in\nindigent circumstances, so that she suffered the injuries of violence,\nwith the evils of penury. Nevertheless she returned thanks for her lot,\nand said: \"God be praised that I escaped from infernal torment, and have\nobtained this permanent blessing. Amidst all your violence and\nimpetuosity of temper, I will put up with your airs, because you are\nhandsome. It is better to burn with you in hell than to be in paradise\nwith the other. The scent of onions from a beautiful mouth is more\nfragrant than the odour of the rose from the hand of one who is ugly.\"\n\nIt must be allowed that this old man put his own case to his young wife\nwith very considerable address: yet, such is woman-nature, she chose to\nbe \"a young man's slave rather than an old man's darling.\" And,\n_apropos_, Saadi has another story which may be added to the foregoing:\nAn old man was asked why he did not marry. He answered: \"I should not\nlike an old woman.\" \"Then marry a young one, since you have property.\"\nQuoth he: \"Since I, who am an old man, should not be pleased with an old\nwoman, how can I expect that a young one would be attached to me?\"\n\n\"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,\" says our great dramatist, in\nproof of which take this story: A certain king, when arrived at the end\nof his days, having no heir, directed in his will that the morning after\nhis death the first person who entered the gate of the city they should\nplace on his head the crown of royalty, and commit to his charge the\ngovernment of the kingdom. It happened that the first to enter the city\nwas a dervish, who all his life had collected victuals from the\ncharitable and sewed patch on patch. The ministers of state and the\nnobles of the court carried out the king's will, bestowing on him the\nkingdom and the treasure. For some time the dervish governed the\nkingdom, until part of the nobility swerved their necks from obedience\nto him, and all the neighbouring monarchs, engaging in hostile\nconfederacies, attacked him with their armies. In short, the troops and\npeasantry were thrown into confusion, and he lost the possession of some\nterritories. The dervish was distressed at these events, when an old\nfriend, who had been his companion in the days of poverty, returned from\na journey, and, finding him in such an exalted state, said: \"Praised be\nthe God of excellence and glory, that your high fortune has aided you\nand prosperity been your guide, so that a rose has issued from the\nbrier, and the thorn has been extracted from your foot, and you have\narrived at this dignity. Of a truth, joy succeeds sorrow; the bud does\nsometimes blossom and sometimes wither; the tree is sometimes naked and\nsometimes clothed.\" He replied: \"O brother, condole with me, for this is\nnot a time for congratulation. When you saw me last, I was only anxious\nhow to obtain bread; but now I have all the cares of the world to\nencounter. If the times are adverse, I am in pain; and if they are\nprosperous, I am captivated with worldly enjoyments. There is no\ncalamity greater than worldly affairs, because they distress the heart\nin prosperity as well as in adversity. If you want riches, seek only for\ncontentment, which is inestimable wealth. If the rich man would throw\nmoney into your lap, consider not yourself obliged to him, for I have\noften heard that the patience of the poor is preferable to the\nliberality of the rich.\"\n\nMuezzins, who call the faithful to prayer at the prescribed hours from\nthe minarets of the mosques, are generally blind men, as a man with his\neyesight might spy into the domestic privacy of the citizens, who sleep\non the flat roofs of their houses in the hot season, and are selected\nfor their sweetness of voice. Saadi, however, tells us of a man who\nperformed gratuitously the office of muezzin, and had such a voice as\ndisgusted all who heard it. The intendant of the mosque, a good, humane\nman, being unwilling to offend him, said one day: \"My friend, this\nmosque has muezzins of long standing, each of whom has a monthly stipend\nof ten dinars. Now I will give you ten dinars to go to another place.\"\nThe man agreed to this and went away. Some time after he came to the\nintendant and said: \"O, my lord, you injured me in sending me away from\nthis station for ten dinars; for where I went they will give me twenty\ndinars to remove to another place, to which I have not consented.\" The\nintendant laughed, and said: \"Take care--don't accept of the offer, for\nthey may be willing to give you fifty.\"\n\nTo those who have \"music in their souls,\" and are \"moved by concord of\nsweet sounds,\" the tones of a harsh voice are excruciating; and if among\nour statesmen and other public speakers \"silver tongues\" are rare, they\nare much more so among our preachers. The Church of Rome does not admit\ninto the priesthood men who have any bodily shortcoming or defect; it\nwould also be well if all candidates for holy orders in the English and\nScottish Churches whose voices are not at least tolerable were rejected,\nas unfit to preach! Saadi seems to have had a great horror of braying\norators, and relates a number of anecdotes about them, such as this: A\npreacher who had a detestable voice, but thought he had a very sweet\none, bawled out to no purpose. You would say the croaking of the crow in\nthe desert was the burden of his song, and that this verse of the Kuran\nwas intended for him, \"Verily the most detestable of sounds is the\nbraying of an ass.\" When this ass of a preacher brayed, it made\nPersepolis tremble. The people of the town, on account of the\nrespectability of his office, submitted to the calamity, and did not\nthink it advisable to molest him, until one of the neighbouring\npreachers, who was secretly ill-disposed towards him, came once to see\nhim, and said: \"I have had a dream--may it prove good!\" \"What did you\ndream?\" \"I thought you had a sweet voice, and that the people were\nenjoying tranquility from your discourse.\" The preacher, after\nreflecting a little, replied: \"What a happy dream is this that you have\nhad, which has discovered to me my defect, in that I have an unpleasant\nvoice, and that the people are distressed at my preaching. I am resolved\nthat in future I will read only in a low tone. The company of friends\nwas disadvantageous to me, because they look on my bad manners as\nexcellent: my defects appear to them skill and perfection, and my thorn\nas the rose and the jasmin.\"\n\nOur author, as we have seen, enlivens his moral discourses occasionally\nwith humorous stories, and one or two more of these may fittingly close\nthe present section: One of the slaves of Amrulais having run away, a\nperson was sent in pursuit of him and brought him back. The vazir, being\ninimical to him, commanded him to be put to death in order to deter\nother slaves from committing the like offence. The slave prostrated\nhimself before Amrulais and said: \"Whatever may happen to me with your\napprobation is lawful--what plea can the slave offer against the\nsentence of his lord? But, seeing that I have been brought up under the\nbounties of your house, I do not wish that at the resurrection you shall\nbe charged with my blood. If you are resolved to kill your slave, do so\ncomformably to the interpretation of the law, in order that at the\nresurrection you may not suffer reproach.\" The king asked: \"After what\nmanner shall I expound it?\" The slave replied: \"Give me leave to kill\nthe vazir, and then, in retaliation for him, order me to be put to\ndeath, that you may kill me justly.\" The king laughed, and asked the\nvazir what was his advice in this matter. Quoth the vazir: \"O my lord,\nas an offering to the tomb of your father, liberate this rogue, in order\nthat I may not also fall into this calamity. The crime is on my side,\nfor not having observed the words of the sages, who say, 'When you\ncombat with one who flings clods of earth, you break your own head by\nyour folly: when you shoot at the face of your enemy, be careful that\nyou sit out of his aim.'\"--And not a little wit, too, did the kazi\nexhibit when detected by the king in an intrigue with a farrier's\ndaughter, and his Majesty gave order that he should be flung from the\ntop of the castle, \"as an example for others\"; to which the kazi\nreplied: \"O monarch of the universe, I have been fostered in your\nfamily, and am not singular in the commission of such crimes; therefore,\nI ask you to precipitate some one else, in order that I may benefit by\nthe example.\" The king laughed at his wit, and spared his life.--Nor is\nthis tale without a spice of humour: An astrologer entered his house and\nfinding a stranger in company with his wife abused him, and called him\nsuch opprobrious names that a quarrel and strife ensued. A shrewd man,\nbeing informed of this, said to the astrologer: \"What do you know of the\nheavenly bodies, when you cannot tell what goes on in your own\nhouse?\"[10]--Last, and perhaps best of all, is this one: I was\nhesitating about concluding a bargain for a house, when a Jew said: \"I\nam an old householder in that quarter; inquire of me the description of\nthe house, and buy it, for it has no fault.\" I replied: \"Excepting that\nyou are one of the neighbours!\"\n\n   [10] There is a similar story to this in one of our old\n        English jest-books, _Tales and Quicke Answeres_, 1535,\n        as follows (I have modernised the spelling): As an\n        astronomer [i.e. an astrologer] sat upon a time in the\n        market place, and took upon him to divine and to show\n        what their fortunes and chances should be that came to\n        him, there came a fellow and told him (as it was indeed)\n        that thieves had broken into his house, and had borne\n        away all that he had. These tidings grieved him so sore\n        that, all heavy and sorrowfully, he rose up and went his\n        way. When the fellow saw him do so, he said: \"O thou\n        foolish and mad man! goest thou about to divine other\n        men's matters, and art ignorant of thine own?\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nANECDOTES AND APHORISMS FROM THE \"GULISTAN,\" WITH ANALOGUES--CONCLUSION.\n\n\nBesides the maxims comprised in the concluding chapter of the\n_Gulistan_, under the heading of \"Rules for the Conduct of Life,\" many\nothers, of great pith and moment, are interspersed with the tales and\nanecdotes which Saadi recounts in the preceding chapters, a selection of\nwhich can hardly fail to prove both instructive and interesting.\n\nIt is related that at the court of Nushirvan, king of Persia, a number\nof wise men were discussing a difficult question; and Buzurjmihr (his\nfamous prime minister), being silent, was asked why he did not take part\nin the debate. He answered: \"Ministers are like physicians, and the\nphysician gives medicine to the sick only. Therefore, when I see your\nopinions are judicious, it would not be consistent with wisdom for me to\nobtrude my sentiments. When a matter can be managed without my\ninterference it is not proper for me to speak on the subject. But if I\nsee a blind man in the way of a well, should I keep silence it were a\ncrime.\" On another occasion, when some Indian sages were discoursing on\nhis virtue, they could discover in him only this fault, that he\nhesitated in his speech, so that his hearers were kept a long time in\nsuspense before he delivered his sentiments. Buzurjmihr overheard their\nconversation and observed: \"It is better to deliberate before I speak\nthan to repent of what I have said.\"[11]\n\n   [11] The sayings of Buzurjmihr, the sagacious prime minister\n        of King Nushirvan, are often cited by Persian writers,\n        and a curious story of his precocity when a mere youth\n        is told in the _Lata'yif at-Taw'ayif_, a Persian\n        collection, made by Al-Kashifi, of which a translation\n        will be found in my \"Analogues and Variants\" of the\n        Tales in vol. iii of Sir R. F. Burton's _Supplemental\n        Arabian Nights_, pp. 567-9--too long for reproduction\n        here.\n\nA parallel to this last saying of the Persian vazir is found in a\n\"notable sentence\" of a wise Greek, in this passage from the _Dictes, or\nSayings of Philosophers_, printed by Caxton (I have modernised the\nspelling):\n\n\"There came before a certain king three wise men, a Greek, a Jew, and a\nSaracen, of whom the said king desired that each of them would utter\nsome good and notable sentence. Then the Greek said: 'I may well correct\nand amend my thoughts, but not my words.' The Jew said: 'I marvel of\nthem that say things prejudicial, when silence were more profitable.'\nThe Saracen said: 'I am master of my words ere they are pronounced; but\nwhen they are spoken I am servant thereto.' And it was asked one of\nthem: 'Who might be called a king?' And he answered: 'He that is not\nsubject to his own will.'\"\n\nThe _Dictes, or Sayings of Philosophers_, of which, I believe, but one\nperfect copy is extant, was translated from the French by Earl Rivers,\nand printed by Caxton, at Westminister, in the year 1477, as we learn\nfrom the colophon. I am not aware that any one has taken the trouble to\ntrace to their sources all the sayings comprised in this collection, but\nI think the original of the above is to be found in the following, from\nthe preface to the Arabian version (from the Pahlavi, the ancient\nlanguage of Persia) of the celebrated Fables of Bidpai, entitled _Kalila\nwa Dimna_, made in the year 754:\n\n\"The four kings of China, India, Persia, and Greece, being together,\nagreed each of them to deliver a saying which might be recorded to their\nhonour in after ages. The king of China said: 'I have more power over\nthat which I have not spoken than I have to recall what has once passed\nmy lips.' The king of India: 'I have been often struck with the risk of\nspeaking; for if a man be heard in his own praise it is unprofitable\nboasting, and what he says to his own discredit is injurious in its\nconsequences.' The king of Persia: 'I am the slave of what I have\nspoken, but the master of what I conceal.' The king of Greece: 'I have\nnever regretted the silence which I had imposed upon myself; though I\nhave often repented of the words I have uttered;[12] for silence is\nattended with advantage, whereas loquacity is often followed by\nincurable evils.'\"\n\n   [12] Simonides used to say that he never regretted having\n        held his tongue, but very often had he felt sorry for\n        having spoken.--_Stobaeus_: Flor. xxxiii, 12.\n\nThe Persian poet Jami--the last of the brilliant galaxy of genius who\nenriched the literature of their country, and who flourished two\ncenturies after Saadi had passed to his rest--reproduces these sayings\nof the four kings in his work entitled _Baharistan_, or Abode of Spring,\nwhich is similar in design to the _Gulistan_.\n\nAmong the sayings of other wise men (whose names, however, Saadi does\nnot mention) are the following: A devotee, who had quitted his monastery\nand become a member of a college, being asked what difference there is\nbetween a learned man and a religious man to induce him thus to change\nhis associates, answered: \"The devotee saves his own blanket out of the\nwaves, and the learned man endeavours to save others from drowning.\"--A\nyoung man complained to his spiritual guide of his studies being\nfrequently interrupted by idle and impudent visitors, and desired to\nknow by what means he might rid himself of the annoyance. The sage\nreplied: \"To such as are poor lend money, and of such as are rich ask\nmoney, and, depend upon it, you will never see one of them again.\"\n\nSaadi's own aphorisms are not less striking and instructive. They are\nindeed calculated to stimulate the faltering to manly exertion, and to\ncounsel the inexperienced. It is to youthful minds, however, that the\n\"words of the wise\" are more especially addressed; for it is during the\nspring-time of life that the seeds of good and evil take root; and so we\nfind the sage Hebrew king frequently addressing his maxims to the young:\n\"My son,\" is his formula, \"my son, attend to my words, and bow thine ear\nto my understanding; that thou mayest regard discretion, and that thy\nlips may keep knowledge.\" And the \"good and notable sentences\" of Saadi\nare well worthy of being treasured by the young man on the threshold of\nlife. For example:\n\n\"Life is snow, and the summer advanceth; only a small portion remaineth:\nart thou still slothful?\"\n\nThis warning has been reiterated by moralists in all ages and\ncountries;--the Great Teacher says: \"Work while it is day, for the night\ncometh when no man can work.\" And Saadi, in one of his sermons (which is\nfound in another of his books), recounts this beautiful fable, in\nillustration of the fortunes of the slothful and the industrious:\n\nIt is related that in a certain garden a Nightingale had built his nest\non the bough of a rose-bush. It so happened that a poor little Ant had\nfixed her dwelling at the root of this same bush, and managed as best\nshe could to store her wretched hut of care with winter provision. Day\nand night was the Nightingale fluttering round the rose-bower, and\ntuning the barbut[13] of his soul-deluding melody; indeed, whilst the\nAnt was night and day industriously occupied, the thousand-songed bird\nseemed fascinated with his own sweet voice, echoing amidst the trees.\nThe Nightingale was whispering his secret to the Rose,[14] and that,\nfull-blown by the zephyr of the dawn, would ogle him in return. The poor\nAnt could not help admiring the coquettish airs of the Rose, and the gay\nblandishments of the Nightingale, and incontinently remarking: \"Time\nalone can disclose what may be the end of this frivolity and talk!\"\nAfter the flowery season of summer was gone, and the black time of\nwinter was come, thorns took the station of the Rose, and the raven the\nperch of the Nightingale. The storms of autumn raged in fury, and the\nfoliage of the grove was shed upon the ground. The cheek of the leaf was\nturned yellow, and the breath of the wind was chill and blasting. The\ngathering cloud poured down hailstones, like pearls, and flakes of snow\nfloated like camphor on the bosom of the air. Suddenly the Nightingale\nreturned into the garden, but he met neither the bloom of the Rose nor\nfragrance of the spikenard; notwithstanding his thousand-songed tongue,\nhe stood stupified and mute, for he could discover no flower whose form\nhe might admire, nor any verdure whose freshness he might enjoy. The\nThorn turned round to him and said: \"How long, silly bird, wouldst thou\nbe courting the society of the Rose? Now is the season that in the\nabsence of thy charmer thou must put up with the heart-rending bramble\nof separation.\" The Nightingale cast his eye upon the scene around him,\nbut saw nothing fit to eat. Destitute of food, his strength and\nfortitude failed him, and in his abject helplessness he was unable to\nearn himself a little livelihood. He called to his mind and said:\n\"Surely the Ant had in former days his dwelling underneath this tree,\nand was busy in hoarding a store of provision: now I will lay my wants\nbefore her, and, in the name of good neighbourship, and with an appeal\nto her generosity, beg some small relief. Peradventure she may pity my\ndistress and bestow her charity upon me.\" Like a poor suppliant, the\nhalf-famished Nightingale presented himself at the Ant's door, and said:\n\"Generosity is the harbinger of prosperity, and the capital stock of\ngood luck. I was wasting my precious life in idleness whilst thou wast\ntoiling hard and laying up a hoard. How considerate and good it were of\nthee wouldst thou spare me a portion of it.\" The Ant replied:\n\n\"Thou wast day and night occupied in idle talk, and I in attending to\nthe needful: one moment thou wast taken up with the fresh blandishment\nof the Rose, and the next busy in admiring the blossoming spring. Wast\nthou not aware that every summer has its fall and every road an\nend?\"[15]\n\n   [13] The name of a musical instrument.\n\n   [14] The fancied love of the nightingale for the rose is a\n        favourite theme of Persian poets.\n\n   [15] Cf. the fable of Anianus: After laughing all summer at\n        her toil, the Grasshopper came in winter to borrow part\n        of the Ant's store of food. \"Tell me,\" said the Ant,\n        \"what you did in the summer?\" \"I sang,\" replied the\n        Grasshopper. \"Indeed,\" rejoined the Ant. \"Then you may\n        dance and keep yourself warm during the winter.\"\n\nThese are a few more of Saadi's aphorisms:\n\nRiches are for the comfort of life, and not life for the accumulation of\nriches.[16]\n\n   [16] Auvaiyar, the celebrated Indian poetess, in her\n        _Nalvali_, says:\n\n          Hark! ye who vainly toil and wealth\n          Amass--O sinful men, the soul\n          Will leave its nest; where then will be\n          The buried treasure that you lose?\n\nThe eye of the avaricious man cannot be satisfied with wealth, any more\nthan a well can be filled with dew.\n\nA wicked rich man is a clod of earth gilded.\n\nThe liberal man who eats and bestows is better than the religious man\nwho fasts and hoards.\n\nPublish not men's secret faults, for by disgracing them you make\nyourself of no repute.\n\nHe who gives advice to a self-conceited man stands himself in need of\ncounsel from another.\n\nThe vicious cannot endure the sight of the virtuous, in the same manner\nas the curs of the market howl at a hunting-dog, but dare not approach\nhim.\n\nWhen a mean wretch cannot vie with any man in virtue, out of his\nwickedness he begins to slander him. The abject, envious wretch will\nslander the virtuous man when absent, but when brought face to face his\nloquacious tongue becomes dumb.\n\nO thou, who hast satisfied thy hunger, to thee a barley loaf is beneath\nnotice;--that seems loveliness to me which in thy sight appears\ndeformity.\n\nThe ringlets of fair maids are chains for the feet of reason, and snares\nfor the bird of wisdom.\n\nWhen you have anything to communicate that will distress the heart of\nthe person whom it concerns, be silent, in order that he may hear it\nfrom some one else. O nightingale, bring thou the glad tidings of the\nspring, and leave bad news to the owl!\n\nIt often happens that the imprudent is honoured and the wise despised.\nThe alchemist died of poverty and distress, while the blockhead found a\ntreasure under a ruin.\n\nCovetousness sews up the eyes of cunning, and brings both bird and fish\ninto the net.\n\nAlthough, in the estimation of the wise, silence is commendable, yet at\na proper season speech is preferable.[17]\n\n   [17] \"Comprehensive talkers are apt to be tiresome when we\n        are not athirst for information; but, to be quite fair,\n        we must admit that superior reticence is a good deal due\n        to the lack of matter. Speech is often barren, but\n        silence does not necessarily brood over a full nest.\n        Your still fowl, blinking at you without remark, may all\n        the while be sitting on one addled nest-egg; and when it\n        takes to cackling will have nothing to announce but that\n        addled delusion.\"--George Eliot's _Felix Holt_.\n\nTwo things indicate an obscure understanding: to be silent when we\nshould converse, and to speak when we should be silent.\n\nPut not yourself so much in the power of your friend that, if he should\nbecome your enemy, he may be able to injure you.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur English poet Young has this observation in his _Night Thoughts_:\n\n  Thought, in the mine, may come forth gold or dross;\n  When coined in word, we know its real worth.\n\nHe had been thus anticipated by Saadi: \"To what shall be likened the\ntongue in a man's mouth? It is the key of the treasury of wisdom. When\nthe door is shut, who can discover whether he deals in jewels or\nsmall-wares?\"\n\nThe poet Thomson, in his _Seasons_, has these lines, which have long\nbeen hackneyed:\n\n                              Loveliness\n  Needs not the aid of foreign ornament,\n  But is when unadorned adorned the most.\n\nSaadi had anticipated him also: \"The face of the beloved,\" he says,\n\"requireth not the art of the tire-woman. The finger of a beautiful\nwoman and the tip of her ear are handsome without an ear-jewel or a\nturquoise ring.\" But Saadi, in his turn, was forestalled by the Arabian\npoet-hero Antar, in his famous _Mu'allaka_, or prize-poem, which is at\nleast thirteen hundred years old, where he says: \"Many a consort of a\nfair one, whose beauty required no ornaments, have I laid prostrate on\nthe field.\"\n\nYet one Persian poet, at least, namely, Nakhshabi, held a different\nopinion: \"Beauty,\" he says, \"adorned with ornaments, portends disastrous\nevents to our hearts. An amiable form, ornamented with diamonds and\ngold, is like a melodious voice accompanied by the rabab.\" Again, he\nsays: \"Ornaments are the universal ravishers of hearts, and an upper\ngarment for the shoulder is like a cluster of gems. If dress, however,\"\nhe concedes, \"may have been at any time the assistant of beauty, beauty\nis always the animator of dress.\" It is remarkable that homely-featured\nwomen dress more gaudily than their handsome sisters generally, thus\nunconsciously bringing their lack of beauty (not to put too fine a point\non it) into greater prominence.\n\nIn common with other moralists, Saadi reiterates the maxim that learning\nand virtue, precept and practice, should ever go hand in hand. \"Two\npersons,\" says he, \"took trouble in vain: he who acquired wealth without\nusing it, and he who taught wisdom without practising it.\" Again: \"He\nwho has acquired knowledge and does not practise it, is like unto him\nthat ploughed but did not sow.\" And again: \"How much soever you may\nstudy science, when you do not act wisely, you are ignorant. The beast\nthat they load with books is not profoundly wise and learned: what\nknoweth his empty skull whether he carrieth fire-wood or books?\" And yet\nagain: \"A learned man without temperance is like a blind man carrying a\nlamp: he showeth the way to others, but does not guide himself.\"\n\nIngratitude is denounced by all moralists as the lowest of vices. Thus\nSaadi says: \"Man is beyond dispute the most excellent of created beings,\nand the vilest animal is the dog; but the sages agree that a grateful\ndog is better than an ungrateful man. A dog never forgets a morsel,\nthough you pelt him a hundred times with stones. But if you cherish a\nmean wretch for an age, he will fight with you for a mere trifle.\" In\nlanguage still more forcible does a Hindu poet denounce this basest of\nvices: \"To cut off the teats of a cow;[18] to occasion a pregnant woman\nto miscarry; to injure a Brahman--are sins of the most aggravated\nnature; but more atrocious than these is ingratitude.\"\n\n   [18] The cow is sacred among the Hindus.\n\nThe sentiment so tersely expressed in the Chinese proverb, \"He who never\nreveals a secret keeps it best,\" is thus finely amplified by Saadi: \"The\nmatter which you wish to preserve as a secret impart not to every one,\nalthough he may be worthy of confidence; for no one will be so true to\nyour secret as yourself. It is safer to be silent than to reveal a\nsecret to any one, and tell him not to mention it. O wise man! stop the\nwater at the spring-head, for when it is in full stream you cannot\narrest it.\"[19]\n\n   [19] Thus also Jami, in his _Baharistan_ (Second \"Garden\"):\n        \"With regard to a secret divulged and one kept\n        concealed, there is in use an excellent proverb, that\n        the one is an arrow still in our possession, and the\n        other is an arrow sent from the bow.\" And another\n        Persian poet, whose name I have not ascertained,\n        eloquently exclaims: \"O my heart! if thou desirest ease\n        in this life, keep thy secrets undisclosed, like the\n        modest rose-bud. Take warning from that lovely flower,\n        which, by expanding its hitherto hidden beauties when in\n        full bloom, gives its leaves and its happiness to the\n        winds.\"\n\nThe imperative duty of active benevolence is thus inculcated: \"Bestow\nthy gold and thy wealth while they are thine; for when thou art gone\nthey will be no longer in thy power. Distribute thy treasure readily\nto-day, for to-morrow the key may be no longer in thy hand. Exert\nthyself to cast a covering over the poor, that God's own veil may be a\ncovering to thee.\"\n\nIn the following passage the man of learning and virtue is contrasted\nwith the stupid and ignorant blockhead:\n\n\"If a wise man, falling into company with mean people, does not get\ncredit for his discourse, be not surprised, for the sound of the harp\ncannot overpower the noise of the drum, and the fragrance of ambergris\nis overcome by fetid garlic. The ignorant fellow was proud of his loud\nvoice, because he had impudently confounded the man of understanding. If\na jewel falls in the mud it is still the same precious stone,[20] and if\ndust flies up to the sky it retains its original baseness. A capacity\nwithout education is deplorable, and education without capacity is\nthrown away. Sugar obtains not its value from the cane, but from its\ninnate quality. Musk has fragrance of itself, and not from being called\na perfume by the druggist. The wise man is like the druggist's chest,\nsilent, but full of virtues; while the blockhead resembles the warrior's\ndrum, noisy, but an empty prattler. A wise man in the company of those\nwho are ignorant has been compared by the sages to a beautiful girl in\nthe company of blind men, and to the Kuran in the house of an\ninfidel.\"--The old proverb that \"an evil bird has an evil egg\" finds\nexpression by Saadi thus: \"No one whose origin is bad ever catches the\nreflection of the good.\" Again, he says: \"How can we make a good sword\nout of bad iron? A worthless person cannot by education become a person\nof any worth.\" And yet again: \"Evil habits which have taken root in\none's nature will only be got rid of at the hour of death.\"\n\n   [20] Is such a thing as an emerald made worse than it was if\n        it is not praised?--_Marcus Aurelius_.\n\n          If glass be used to decorate a crown,\n          While gems are taken to bedeck a foot,\n          'Tis not that any fault lies in the gem,\n          But in the want of knowledge of the setter.\n\n        --_Panchatantra_, a famous Indian book of Fables.\n\nFirdausi, the Homer of Persia (eleventh century), has the following\nremarks in his scathing satire on the sultan Mahmud, of Ghazni\n(Atkinson's rendering):\n\n  Alas! from vice can goodness ever spring?\n  Is mercy hoped for in a tyrant king?\n  Can water wash the Ethiopian white?\n  Can we remove the darkness from the night?\n  The tree to which a bitter fruit is given\n  Would still be bitter in the bowers of heaven;\n  And a bad heart keeps on its vicious course,\n  Or, if it changes, changes for the worse;\n  Whilst streams of milk where Eden's flow'rets blow\n  Acquire more honied sweetness as they flow.\n\nThe striking words of the Great Teacher, \"How hardly shall they that\nhave riches enter into the kingdom of God!\" find an interesting analogue\nin this passage by Saadi: \"There is a saying of the Prophet, 'To the\npoor death is a state of rest.' The ass that carries the lightest burden\ntravels easiest. In like manner, the good man who bears the burden of\npoverty will enter the gate of death lightly loaded, while he who lives\nin affluence, with ease and comfort, will, doubtless, on that very\naccount find death very terrible. And in any view, the captive who is\nreleased from confinement is happier than the noble who is taken\nprisoner.\"\n\nA singular anecdote is told of another celebrated Persian poet, which\nmay serve as a kind of commentary on this last-cited passage: Faridu\n'd-Din 'Attar, who died in the year 1229, when over a hundred years old,\nwas considered the most perfect Sufi[21] philosopher of the time in\nwhich he lived. His father was an eminent druggist in Nishapur, and for\na time Faridu 'd-Din followed the same profession, and his shop was the\ndelight of all who passed by it, from the neatness of its arrangements\nand the fragrant odours of drugs and essences. 'Attar, which means\ndruggist, or perfumer, Faridu 'd-Din adopted for his poetical title. One\nday, while sitting at his door with a friend, an aged dervish drew near,\nand, after looking anxiously and closely into the well-furnished shop,\nhe sighed heavily and shed tears, as he reflected on the transitory\nnature of all earthly things. 'Attar, mistaking the sentiment uppermost\nin the mind of the venerable devotee, ordered him to be gone, to which\nhe meekly rejoined: \"Yes, I have nothing to prevent me from leaving thy\ndoor, or, indeed, from quitting this world at once, as my sole\npossession is this threadbare garment. But O 'Attar, I grieve for thee:\nfor how canst thou ever bring thyself to think of death--to leave all\nthese goods behind thee?\" 'Attar replied that he hoped and believed that\nhe should die as contentedly as any dervish; upon which the aged\ndevotee, saying, \"We shall see,\" placed his wooden bowl upon the ground,\nlaid his head upon it, and, calling on the name of God, immediately\nresigned his soul. Deeply impressed with this incident, 'Attar at once\ngave up his shop, and devoted himself to the study of Sufi\nphilosophy.[22]\n\n   [21] The Sufis are the mystics of Islam, and their poetry,\n        while often externally anacreontic--bacchanalian and\n        erotic--possesses an esoteric, spiritual signification:\n        the sensual world is employed to symbolise that which is\n        to be apprehended only by the _inward_ sense. Most of\n        the great poets of Persia, Afghanistan, and Turkey are\n        generally understood to have been Sufis.\n\n   [22] Sir Gore Ouseley's _Biographical Notices of Persian Poets_.\n\nThe death of Cardinal Mazarin furnishes another remarkable illustration\nof Saadi's sentiment. A day or two before he died, the cardinal caused\nhis servant to carry him into his magnificent art gallery, where, gazing\nupon his collection of pictures and sculpture, he cried in anguish, \"And\nmust I leave all these?\" Dr. Johnson may have had Mazarin's words in\nmind when he said to Garrick, while being shown over the famous actor's\nsplendid mansion: \"Ah, Davie, Davie, these are the things that make a\ndeath-bed terrible!\"\n\nFew passages of Shakspeare are more admired than these lines:\n\n  And this our life, exempt from public haunts,\n  Finds _tongues in trees_, books in the running brooks,\n  Sermons in stones, and good in everything.[23]\n\n   [23] Cf. these lines, from Herrick's \"Hesperides\":\n\n          But you are _lovely leaves_, where we\n            May read, how soon things have\n            Their end, tho' ne'er so brave;\n          And after they have shown their pride,\n            Like you, a while, they glide\n                  Into the grave.\n\nSaadi had thus expressed the same sentiment before him: \"The foliage of\na newly-clothed tree, to the eye of a discerning man, displays a whole\nvolume of the wondrous works of the Creator.\" Another Persian poet,\nJami, in his beautiful mystical poem of _Yusuf wa Zulaykha_, says:\n\"Every leaf is a tongue uttering praises, like one who keepeth crying,\n'In the name of God.'\"[24] And the Afghan poet Abdu 'r-Rahman says:\n\"Every tree, every shrub, stands ready to bend before him; every herb\nand blade of grass is a tongue to mutter his praises.\" And Horace Smith,\nthat most pleasing but unpretentious writer, both of verse and prose,\nhas thus finely amplified the idea of \"tongues in trees\":\n\n  Your voiceless lips, O Flowers, are living preachers,\n  Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book,\n  Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers,\n                  From loneliest nook.\n\n  'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth,\n  And tolls its perfume on the passing air,\n  Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth\n                  A call to prayer;--\n\n  Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column\n  Attest the feebleness of mortal hand,\n  But to that fane, most catholic and solemn,\n                  Which God hath planned:\n\n  To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,\n  Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply;\n  Its choir, the winds and waves, its organ, thunder,\n                  Its dome, the sky.\n\n  There, amid solitude and shade, I wander\n  Through the green aisles, and, stretched upon the sod,\n  Awed by the silence, reverently ponder\n                  The ways of God.\n\n   [24] \"In the name of God\" is part of the formula employed by\n        pious Muslims in their acts of worship, and on entering\n        upon any enterprise of danger or\n        uncertainty--_bi'smi'llahi ar-rahman ar-rahimi_, \"In the\n        name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!\" These\n        words are usually placed at the beginning of Muhammedan\n        books, secular as well as religions; and they form part\n        of the Muslim Confession of Faith, used in the last\n        extremity: \"In the name of God, the Merciful, the\n        Compassionate! There is no strength nor any power save\n        in God, the High, the Mighty. To God we belong, and\n        verily to him we return!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Saadi composed his _Gulistan_, in 1278, he was between eighty and\nninety years of age, with his great mind still vigorous as ever; and he\nlived many years after, beloved and revered by the poor, whose\nnecessities he relieved, and honoured and esteemed by the noble and the\nlearned, who frequently visited the venerable solitary, to gather and\ntreasure up the pearls of wisdom which dropped from his eloquent tongue.\nLike other poets of lofty genius, he possessed a firm assurance of the\nimmortality of his fame. \"A rose,\" says he, \"may continue to bloom for\nfive or six days, but this Rose-Garden will flourish for ever\"; and\nagain: \"These verses and recitals of mine will endure after every\nparticle of my dust has been dispersed.\" Six centuries have passed away\nsince the gifted sage penned his _Gulistan_, and his fame has not only\ncontinued in his own land and throughout the East generally, but has\nspread into all European countries, and across the Atlantic, where long\nafter the days of Saadi \"still stood the forests primeval.\"\n\n\n\n\nORIENTAL WIT AND HUMOUR.\n\n  Sport that wrinkled Care derides,\n  And Laughter shaking both his sides.--_L' Allegro_.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nMAN A LAUGHING ANIMAL--ANTIQUITY OF POPULAR JESTS--\"NIGHT AND DAY\"--THE\nPLAIN-FEATURED BRIDE--THE HOUSE OF CONDOLENCE--THE BLIND MAN'S WIFE--TWO\nWITTY PERSIAN LADIES--WOMAN'S COUNSEL--THE TURKISH JESTER: IN THE\nPULPIT; THE CAULDRON; THE BEGGAR; THE DRUNKEN GOVERNOR; THE ROBBER; THE\nHOT BROTH--MUSLIM PREACHERS AND MUSLIM MISERS.\n\n\nCertain philosophers have described man as a cooking animal, others as a\ntool-making animal, others, again, as a laughing animal. No creature\nsave man, say the advocates of the last definition, seems to have any\n\"sense of humour.\" However this may be, there can be little doubt that\nman in all ages of which we have any knowledge has possessed that\nfaculty which perceives ridiculous incongruities in the relative\npositions of certain objects, and in the actions and sayings of\nindividuals, which we term the \"sense of the ludicrous.\" It is not to be\nsupposed that a dog or a cat--albeit intelligent creatures, in their own\nways--would see anything funny or laughable in a man whose sole attire\nconsisted in a general's hat and sash and a pair of spurs! Yet _that_\nshould be enough to \"make even a cat laugh\"! Certainly laughter is\npeculiar to our species; and gravity is as certainly not always a token\nof profound wisdom; for\n\n  The gravest beast's an ass;\n    The gravest bird's an owl;\n  The gravest fish's an oyster;\n    And the gravest man's a _fool_.\n\nMany of the great sages of antiquity were also great humorists, and\nlaughed long and heartily at a good jest. And, indeed, as the Sage of\nChelsea affirms, \"no man who has once heartily and wholly laughed can be\naltogether, irreclaimably bad. How much lies in laughter!--the cipher\nkey wherewith we decipher the whole man!... The man who cannot laugh is\nnot only fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils, but his whole life is\nalready a treason and a stratagem.\" Let us, then, laugh at what is\nlaughable while we are yet clothed in \"this muddy vesture of decay,\"\nfor, as delightful Elia asks, \"Can a ghost laugh? Can he shake his gaunt\nsides if we be merry with him?\"\n\nIt is a remarkable fact that a considerable proportion of the familiar\njests of almost any country, which are by its natives fondly believed to\nbe \"racy of the soil,\" are in reality common to other peoples widely\ndiffering in language and customs. Not a few of these jests had their\norigin ages upon ages since--in Greece, in Persia, in India. Yet they\nmust have set out upon their travels westward at a comparatively early\nperiod, for they have been long domiciled in almost every country of\nEurope. Nevertheless, as we ourselves possess a goodly number of droll\nwitticisms, repartees, and jests, which are most undoubtedly and beyond\ncavil our own--such as many of those which are ascribed to Sam Foote,\nHarry Erskine, Douglas Jerrold, and Sydney Smith; though they have been\ncredited with some that are as old as the jests of Hierokles--so there\nexist in what may be termed the lower strata of Oriental fiction,\nhumorous and witty stories, characteristic of the different peoples\namongst whom they originated, which, for the most part, have not yet\nbeen appropriated by the European compilers of books of facetiae, and a\nselection of such jests--choice specimens of Oriental Wit and\nHumour--gleaned from a great variety of sources, will, I trust, amuse\nreaders in general, and lovers of funny anecdotes in particular.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo begin, then--_place aux dames_! In most Asiatic countries the ladies\nare at a sad discount in the estimation of their lords and masters,\nhowever much the latter may expatiate on their personal charms, and in\nEastern jests this is abundantly shown. For instance, a Persian poet,\nthrough the importunity of his friends, had married an old and very ugly\nwoman, who turned out also of a very bad temper, and they had constant\nquarrels. Once, in a dispute, the poet made some comparisons between his\naged wife and himself and between Night and Day. \"Cease your nonsense,\"\nsaid she; \"night and day were created long before us.\" \"Hold a little,\"\nsaid the husband. \"I know they were created long before me, but whether\nbefore _you_, admits of great doubt!\" Again, a Persian married, and, as\nis customary with Muslims, on the marriage night saw his bride's face\nfor the first time, when she proved to be very ugly--perhaps\n\"plain-looking\" were the more respectful expression. A few days after\nthe nuptials, she said to him: \"My life! as you have many relatives, I\nwish you would inform me before which of them I may unveil.\" (Women of\nrank in Muslim countries appear unveiled only before very near\nrelations.) \"My soul!\" responded the husband, \"if thou wilt but conceal\nthy face from _me_, I care not to whom thou showest it.\" And there is a\ngrim sort of humour in the story of the poor Arab whose wife was going\non a visit of condolence, when he said to her: \"My dear, if you go, who\nis to take care of the children, and what have you left for them to\neat?\" She replied: \"As I have neither flour, nor milk, nor butter, nor\noil, nor anything else, what can I leave?\" \"You had better stay at home,\nthen,\" said the poor man; \"for assuredly _this_ is the true house of\ncondolence.\" And also in the following: A citizen of Tawris, in\ncomfortable circumstances, had a daughter so very ugly that nothing\ncould induce any one to marry her. At length he resolved to bestow her\non a blind man, hoping that, not seeing her personal defects, he would\nbe kind to her. His plan succeeded, and the blind man lived very happily\nwith his wife. By-and-by, there arrived in the city a doctor who was\ncelebrated for restoring sight to many people, and the girl's father was\nurged by his friends to engage this skilled man to operate upon his\nson-in-law, but he replied: \"I will take care to do nothing of the kind;\nfor if this doctor should restore my son-in-law's eyesight, _he_ would\nvery soon restore my daughter to me!\"\n\nBut occasionally ladies are represented as giving witty retorts, as in\nthe story of the Persian lady who, walking in the street, observed a man\nfollowing her, and turning round enquired of him: \"Why do you follow me,\nsir?\" He answered: \"Because I am in love with you.\" \"Why are you in love\nwith me?\" said the lady. \"My sister is much handsomer than I; she is\ncoming after me--go and make love to her.\" The fellow went back and saw\na woman with an exceedingly ugly face, upon which he at once went after\nthe lady, and said to her: \"Why did you tell me what was not true?\"\n\"Neither did you speak the truth,\" answered she; \"for if you were really\nin love with me, you would not have turned to see another woman.\" And\nthe Persian poet Jami, in his _Baharistan_, relates that a man with a\nvery long nose asked a woman in marriage, saying: \"I am no way given to\nsloth, or long sleeping, and I am very patient in bearing vexations.\" To\nwhich she replied: \"Yes, truly: hadst thou not been patient in bearing\nvexations thou hadst not carried that nose of thine these forty years.\"\n\nThe low estimation in which women are so unjustly held among Muhammedans\nis perhaps to be ascribed partly to the teachings of the Kuran in one or\ntwo passages, and to the traditional sayings of the Apostle Muhammad,\nwho has been credited (or rather _discredited_) with many things which\nhe probably never said. But this is not peculiar to the followers of the\nProphet of Mecca: a very considerable proportion of the Indian fictions\nrepresent women in an unfavourable light--fictions, too, which were\ncomposed long before the Hindus came in contact with the Muhammedans.\nEven in Europe, during mediaeval times, _maugre_ the \"lady fair\" of\nchivalric romance, it was quite as much the custom to decry women, and\nto relate stories of their profligacy, levity, and perversity, as ever\nit has been in the East. But we have changed all that in modern times:\nit is only to be hoped that we have not gone to the other\nextreme!--According to an Arabian writer, cited by Lane, \"it is\ndesirable, before a man enters upon any important undertaking, to\nconsult ten intelligent persons among his particular friends; or if he\nhave not more than five such friends let him consult each twice; or if\nhe have not more than one friend he should consult him ten times, at ten\ndifferent visits [he would be 'a friend indeed,' to submit to so many\nconsultations on the same subject]; if he have not one to consult let\nhim return to his wife and consult her, and whatever she advises him to\ndo let him do the contrary, so shall he proceed rightly in his affair\nand attain his object.\"[25] We may suppose this Turkish story, from the\n_History of the Forty Vezirs_, to be illustrative of the wisdom of such\nteaching: A man went on the roof of his house to repair it, and when he\nwas about to come down he called to his wife, \"How should I come down?\"\nThe woman answered, \"The roof is free; what would happen? You are a\nyoung man--jump down.\" The man jumped down, and his ankle was\ndislocated, and for a whole year he was bedridden, and his ankle came\nnot back to its place. Next year the man again went on the roof of his\nhouse and repaired it. Then he called to his wife, \"Ho! wife, how shall\nI come down?\" The woman said, \"Jump not; thine ankle has not yet come to\nits place--come down gently.\" The man replied, \"The other time, for that\nI followed thy words, and not those of the Apostle [i.e., Muhammed], was\nmy ankle dislocated, and it is not yet come to its place; now shall I\nfollow the words of the Apostle, and do the contrary of what thou sayest\n[Kuran, iii, 29.]\" And he jumped down, and straightway his ankle came to\nits place.\n\n   [25] \"Bear in mind,\" says Thorkel to Bork, in the Icelandic\n        saga of Gisli the Outlaw, \"bear in mind that a woman's\n        counsel is always unlucky.\"--On the other hand, quoth\n        Panurge, \"Truly I have found a great deal of good in the\n        counsel of women, chiefly in that of the old wives among\n        them.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the Turkish collection of jests ascribed to Khoja Nasru 'd-Din\nEfendi[26] is the following, which has been reproduced amongst ourselves\nwithin comparatively recent years, and credited to an Irish priest:\n\nOne day the Khoja went into the pulpit of a mosque to preach to the\npeople. \"O men!\" said he, \"do you know what I should say unto you?\" They\nanswered: \"We know not, Efendi.\" \"When you do know,\" said the Khoja, \"I\nshall take the trouble of addressing you.\" The next day he again\nascended into the pulpit, and said, as before: \"O men! do you know what\nI should say unto you?\" \"We do know,\" exclaimed they all with one voice.\n\"Then,\" said he, \"what is the use of my addressing you, since you\nalready know?\" The third day he once more went into the pulpit, and\nasked the same question. The people, having consulted together as to the\nanswer they should make, said: \"O Khoja, some of us know, and some of us\ndo not know.\" \"If that be the case, let those who know tell those who do\nnot know,\" said the Khoja, coming down. A poor Arab preacher was once,\nhowever, not quite so successful. Having \"given out,\" as we say, for his\ntext, these words, from the Kuran, \"I have called Noah,\" and being\nunable to collect his thoughts, he repeated, over and over again, \"I\nhave called Noah,\" and finally came to a dead stop; when one of those\npresent shouted, \"If Noah will not come, call some one else.\" Akin to\nthis is our English jest of the deacon of a dissenting chapel in\nYorkshire, who undertook, in the vanity of his heart, to preach on the\nSunday, in place of the pastor, who was ill, or from home. He conducted\nthe devotional exercises fairly well, but when he came to deliver his\nsermon, on the text, \"I am the Light of the world,\" he had forgot what\nhe intended to say, and continued to repeat these words, until an old\nman called out, \"If thou be the light o' the world, I think thou needs\nsnuffin' badly.\"\n\n   [26] The Khoja was contemporary with the renowned conqueror\n        of nations, Timur, or Timurleng, or, as the name is\n        usually written in this country, Tamarlane, though there\n        does not appear to be any authority that he was the\n        official jester at the court of that monarch, as some\n        writers have asserted. The pleasantries ascribed to the\n        Khoja--the title now generally signifies Teacher, or\n        School-master, but formerly it was somewhat equivalent\n        to our \"Mr,\" or, more familiarly, \"Goodman\"--have been\n        completely translated into French. Of course, a large\n        proportion of the jests have been taken from Arabian and\n        Persian collections, though some are doubtless genuine;\n        and they represent the Khoja as a curious compound of\n        shrewdness and simplicity. A number of the foolish\n        sayings and doings fathered on him are given in my _Book\n        of Noodles_, 1888.\n\nTo return to the Turkish jest-book. One day the Khoja borrowed a\ncauldron from a brazier, and returned it with a little saucepan inside.\nThe owner, seeing the saucepan, asked: \"What is this?\" Quoth the Khoja:\n\"Why, the cauldron has had a young one\"; whereupon the brazier, well\npleased, took possession of the saucepan. Some time after this the Khoja\nagain borrowed the cauldron and took it home. At the end of a week the\nbrazier called at the Khoja's house and asked for his cauldron. \"O set\nyour mind at rest,\" said the Khoja; \"the cauldron is dead.\" \"O Khoja,\"\nquoth the brazier, \"can a cauldron die?\" Responded the Khoja: \"Since you\nbelieved it could have a young one, why should you not also believe that\nit could die?\"\n\nThe Khoja had a pleasant way of treating beggars. One day a man knocked\nat his door. \"What do you want?\" cried the Khoja from above. \"Come\ndown,\" said the man. The Khoja accordingly came down, and again said:\n\"What do you want?\" \"I want charity,\" said the man. \"Come up stairs,\"\nsaid the Khoja. When the beggar had come up, the Khoja said: \"God help\nyou\"--the customary reply to a beggar when one will not or cannot give\nhim anything. \"O master,\" cried the man, \"why did you not say so below?\"\nQuoth the Khoja: \"When I was above stairs, why did you bring me down?\"\n\nDrunkenness is punished (or punishable) by the infliction of eighty\nstrokes of the bastinado in Muslim countries, but it is only flagrant\ncases that are thus treated, and there is said to be not a little\nprivate drinking of spirits as well as of wine among the higher classes,\nespecially Turks and Persians. It happened that the governor of\nSuricastle lay in a state of profound intoxication in a garden one day,\nand was thus discovered by the Khoja, who was taking a walk in the same\ngarden with his friend Ahmed. The Khoja instantly stripped him of his\n_ferage_, or upper garment, and, putting it on his own back, walked\naway. When the governor awoke and saw that his ferage had been stolen,\nhe told his officers to bring before him whomsoever they found wearing\nit. The officers, seeing the ferage on the Khoja, seized and brought him\nbefore the governor, who said to him: \"Ho! Khoja, where did you obtain\nthat ferage?\" The Khoja responded \"As I was taking a walk with my friend\nAhmed we saw a fellow lying drunk, whereupon I took off his ferage and\nwent away with it. If it be yours, pray take it.\" \"O no,\" said the\ngovernor, \"it does not belong to me.\"\n\nEven being robbed could not disturb the Khoja's good humour. When he was\nlying in bed one night a loud noise was heard in the street before his\nhouse. Said he to his wife: \"Get up and light a candle, and I will go\nand see what is the matter.\" \"You had much better stay where you are,\"\nadvised his wife. But the Khoja, without heeding her words, put the\ncounterpane on his shoulders and went out. A fellow, on perceiving him,\nimmediately snatched the counterpane from off the Khoja's shoulders and\nran away. Shivering with cold, the Khoja returned into the house, and\nwhen his wife asked him the cause of the noise, he said: \"It was on\naccount of our counterpane; when they got that, the noise ceased at\nonce.\"\n\nBut in the following story we have a very old acquaintance in a new\ndress: One day the Khoja's wife, in order to plague him, served up some\nexceedingly hot broth, and, forgetting what she had done, put a spoonful\nof it in her mouth, which so scalded her that the tears came into her\neyes. \"O wife,\" said the Khoja, \"what is the matter with you--is the\nbroth hot?\" \"Dear Efendi,\" said she, \"my mother, who is now dead, loved\nbroth very much; I thought of that, and wept on her account.\" The Khoja,\nthinking that what she said was truth, took a spoonful of the broth,\nand, it burning his mouth, he began to bellow. \"What is the matter with\nyou?\" said his wife. \"Why do you cry?\" Quoth the Khoja: \"You cry because\nyour mother is gone, but I cry because her daughter is here.\"[27]\n\n   [27] This is how the same story is told in our oldest English\n        jest-book, entitled _A Hundred Mery Talys_ (1525): A\n        certain merchant and a courtier being upon a time at\n        dinner, having a hot custard, the courtier, being\n        somewhat homely of manner, took part of it and put it in\n        his mouth, which was so hot that it made him shed tears.\n        The merchant, looking on him, thought that he had been\n        weeping, and asked him why he wept. This courtier, not\n        willing it to be known that he had brent his mouth with\n        the hot custard, answered and said, \"Sir,\" quod he, \"I\n        had a brother which did a certain offence, wherefore he\n        was hanged.\" The merchant thought the courtier had said\n        true, and anon, after the merchant was disposed to eat\n        of the custard, and put a spoonful of it into his mouth,\n        and brent his mouth also, that his eyes watered. This\n        courtier, that perceiving, spake to the merchant; and\n        said, \"Sir,\" quod he, \"why do ye weep now?\" The merchant\n        perceived how he had been deceived, and said, \"Marry,\"\n        quod he, \"I weep because thou wast not hanged when that\n        thy brother was hanged.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMany of the Muslim jests, like some our of own, are at the expense of\npoor preachers. Thus: there was in Baghdad a preacher whom no one\nattended after hearing him but once. One Friday when he came down from\nthe pulpit he discovered that the only one who remained in the mosque\nwas the muezzin--all his hearers had left him to finish his discourse\nas, and when, he pleased--and, still worse, his slippers had also\ndisappeared. Accusing the muezzin of having stolen them, \"I am rightly\nserved by your suspicion,\" retorted he, \"for being the only one that\nremained to hear you.\"--In Gladwin's _Persian Moonshee_ we read that\nwhenever a certain learned man preached in the mosque, one of the\ncongregation wept constantly, and the preacher, observing this,\nconcluded that his words made a great impression on the man's heart. One\nday some of the people said to the man: \"That learned man makes no\nimpression on our minds;--what kind of a heart have you, to be thus\nalways in tears?\" He answered: \"I do not weep at his discourse, O\nMuslims. But I had a goat of which I was very fond, and when he grew old\nhe died. Now, whenever the learned man speaks and wags his beard I am\nreminded of my goat, for he had just such a voice and beard.\"[28] But\nthey are not always represented as mere dullards; for example: A miserly\nold fellow once sent a Muslim preacher a gold ring without a stone,\nrequesting him to put up a prayer for him from the pulpit. The holy man\nprayed that he should have in Paradise a golden palace without a roof.\nWhen he descended from the pulpit, the man went to him, and, taking him\nby the hand, said: \"O preacher, what manner of prayer is that thou hast\nmade for me?\" \"If thy ring had had a stone,\" replied the preacher, \"thy\npalace should also have had a roof.\"\n\n   [28] What may be an older form of this jest is found in the\n        _Katha Manjari_, a Canarese collection, where a wretched\n        singer dwelling next door to a poor woman causes her to\n        weep and wail bitterly whenever he begins to sing, and\n        on his asking her why she wept, she explains that his\n        \"golden voice\" recalled to her mind her donkey that died\n        a month ago.--The story had found its way to our own\n        country more than three centuries since. In _Mery Tales\n        and Quicke Answeres_ (1535), under the title \"Of the\n        Friar that brayde in his Sermon,\" the preacher reminds a\n        \"poure wydowe\" of her ass--all that her husband had left\n        her--which had been devoured by wolves, for so the ass\n        was wont to bray day and night.\n\n_Apropos_ of misers, our English facetiae books furnish many examples of\ntheir ingenuity in excusing themselves from granting favours asked of\nthem by their acquaintances; and, human nature being much the same\neverywhere, the misers in the East are represented as being equally\nadroit, as well as witty, in parrying such objectionable requests. A\nPersian who had a very miserly friend went to him one day, and said: \"I\nam going on a journey; give me your ring, which I will constantly wear,\nand whenever I look on it, I shall remember you.\" The other answered:\n\"If you wish to remember me, whenever you see your finger _without_ my\nring upon it, always think of me, that I did not give you my ring.\" And\nquite as good is the story of the dervish who said to the miser that he\nwanted something of him; to which he replied: \"If you will consent to a\nrequest of mine, I will consent to whatever else you may require\"; and\nwhen the dervish desired to know what it was, he said: \"Never ask me for\nanything and whatever else you say I will perform.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE TWO DEAF MEN AND THE TRAVELLER--THE DEAF PERSIAN AND THE\nHORSEMAN--LAZY SERVANTS--CHINESE HUMOUR: THE RICH MAN AND THE SMITHS;\nHOW TO KEEP PLANTS ALIVE; CRITICISING A PORTRAIT--THE PERSIAN COURTIER\nAND HIS OLD FRIEND--THE SCRIBE--THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE WIT--THE\nPERSIAN AND HIS CAT--A LIST OF BLOCKHEADS--THE ARAB AND HIS CAMEL--A\nWITTY BAGHDADI--THE UNLUCKY SLIPPERS.\n\n\nIt is well known that deaf men generally dislike having their infirmity\nalluded to, and even endeavour to conceal it as much as possible.\nCharles Lamb, or some other noted wit, seeing a deaf acquaintance on the\nother side of the street one day while walking with a friend, stopped\nand motioned to him; then opened his mouth as if speaking in a loud\ntone, but saying not a word. \"What are you bawling for?\" demanded the\ndeaf one. \"D'ye think I can't hear?\"--Two Eastern stories I have met\nwith are most diverting examples of this peculiarity of deaf folks. One\nis related by my friend Pandit Natesa Sastri in his _Folk-Lore of\nSouthern India_, of which a few copies were recently issued at\nBombay.[29] A deaf man was sitting one day where three roads crossed,\nwhen a neatherd happened to pass that way. He had lately lost a good cow\nand a calf, and had been seeking them some days. When he saw the deaf\nman sitting by the way he took him for a soothsayer, and asked him to\nfind out by his knowledge of magic where the cow would likely be found.\nThe herdsman was also very deaf, and the other, without hearing what he\nhad said, abused him, and said he wished to be left undisturbed, at the\nsame time stretching out his hand and pointing at his face. This\npointing the herd supposed to indicate the direction where the lost cow\nand calf should be sought; thus thinking (for he, too, had not heard a\nword of what the other man had said to him), the herd went off in\nsearch, resolving to present the soothsayer with the calf if he found it\nwith the cow. To his joy, and by mere chance, of course, he found them\nboth, and, returning with them to the deaf man (still sitting by the\nwayside), he pointed to the calf and asked him to accept of it. Now, it\nso happened that the calf's tail was broken and crooked, and the deaf\nman supposed that the herdsman was blaming him for having broken it, and\nby a wave of his hand he denied the charge. This the poor deaf neatherd\nmistook for a refusal of the calf and a demand for the cow, so he said:\n\"How very greedy you are, to be sure! I promised you the calf, and not\nthe cow.\" \"Never!\" exclaimed the deaf man in a rage. \"I know nothing of\nyou or your cow and calf. I never broke the calf's tail.\" While they\nwere thus quarrelling, without understanding each other, a third man\nhappened to pass, and seeing his opportunity to profit by their\ndeafness, he said to the neatherd in a loud voice, yet so as not to be\nheard by the other deaf man: \"Friend, you had better go away with your\ncow. Those soothsayers are always greedy. Leave the calf with me, and I\nshall make him accept it.\" The poor neatherd, highly pleased to have\nsecured his cow, went off, leaving the calf with the traveller. Then\nsaid the traveller to the deaf man: \"It is, indeed, very unlawful,\nfriend, for that neatherd to charge you with an offence which you did\nnot commit; but never mind, since you have a friend in me. I shall\ncontrive to make clear to him your innocence; leave this matter to me.\"\nSo saying, he walked away with the calf, and the deaf man went home,\nwell pleased that he had escaped from such a serious accusation.\n\n   [29] Messrs. W. H. Allen & Co., London, have in the press a\n        new edition of this work, to be entitled \"_Tales of the\n        Sun; or, Popular Tales of Southern India_.\" I am\n        confident that the collection will be highly appreciated\n        by many English readers, while its value to\n        story-comparers can hardly be over-rated.\n\nThe other story is of a deaf Persian who was taking home a quantity of\nwheat, and, coming to a river which he must cross, he saw a horseman\napproach; so he said to himself: \"When that horseman comes up, he will\nfirst salute me, 'Peace be with thee'; next he will ask, 'What is the\ndepth of this river?' and after that he will ask, how many _mans_ of\nwheat I have with me.\" (A _man_ is a Persian weight, which seems to vary\nin different places.) But the deaf man's surmises were all in vain; for\nwhen the horseman came up to him, he cried: \"Ho! my man, what is the\ndepth of this river?\" The deaf one replied: \"Peace be with thee, and the\nmercy of Allah and his blessing.\" At this the horseman laughed, and\nsaid: \"May they cut off thy beard!\" The deaf one rejoined: \"To my neck\nand bosom.\" The horseman said: \"Dust be on thy mouth!\" The deaf man\nanswered: \"Eighty _mans_ of it.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe laziness of domestics is a common complaint in this country at the\npresent day, but surely never was there a more lazy servant than the\nfellow whose exploits are thus recorded: A Persian husbandman one night\ndesired his servant to shut the door, and the man said it was already\nshut. In the morning his master bade him open the door, and he coolly\nreplied that, foreseeing this request, he had left it open the preceding\nnight. Another night his master bade him rise and see whether it rained.\nBut he called for the dog that lay at the door, and finding his paws\ndry, answered that the night was fair; then being desired to see whether\nthe fire was extinguished, he called the cat, and finding her paws cold,\nreplied in the affirmative.--This story had gained currency in Europe in\nthe 13th century, and it forms one of the mediaeval _Latin Stories_\nedited, for the Percy Society, by Thos. Wright, where it is entitled,\n\"De Maimundo Armigero.\" There is another Persian story of a lazy fellow\nwhose master, being sick, said to him: \"Go and get me some medicine.\"\n\"But,\" rejoined he, \"it may happen that the doctor is not at home.\" \"You\nwill find him at home.\" \"But if I do find him at home he may not give me\nthe medicine,\" quoth the servant. \"Then take this note to him and he\nwill give it to you.\" \"Well,\" persisted the fellow, \"he may give me the\nmedicine, but suppose it does you no good?\" \"Villain!\" exclaimed his\nmaster, out of all patience, \"will you do as I bid you, instead of\nsitting there so coolly, raising difficulties?\" \"Good sir,\" reasoned\nthis lazy philosopher, \"admitting that the medicine should produce some\neffect, what will be the ultimate result? We must all die some time, and\nwhat does it matter whether it be to-day or to-morrow?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Chinese seem not a whit behind other peoples in appreciating a good\njest, as has been shown by the tales and _bon mots_ rendered into French\nby Stanislas Julien and other eminent _savans_. Here are three specimens\nof Chinese humour:\n\nA wealthy man lived between the houses of two blacksmiths, and was\nconstantly annoyed by the noise of their hammers, so that he could not\nget rest, night or day. First he asked them to strike more gently; then\nhe made them great promises if they would remove at once. The two\nblacksmiths consented, and he, overjoyed to get rid of them, prepared a\ngrand banquet for their entertainment. When the banquet was over, he\nasked them where they were going to take up their new abodes, and they\nreplied--to the intense dismay of their worthy host, no doubt: \"He who\nlives on the left of your house is going to that on the right; and he\nwho lives on your right is going to the house on your left.\"\n\nThere is a keen satirical hit at the venality of Chinese judges in our\nnext story. A husbandman, who wished to rear a particular kind of\nvegetable, found that the plants always died. He consulted an\nexperienced gardener as to the best means of preventing the death of\nplants. The old man replied: \"The affair is very simple; with every\nplant put down a piece of money.\" His friend asked what effect money\ncould possibly have in a matter of this kind. \"It is the case\nnow-a-days,\" said the old man, \"that where there is money _life_ is\nsafe, but where there is none death is the consequence.\"\n\nThe tale of Apelles and the shoemaker is familiar to every schoolboy,\nbut the following story of the Chinese painter and his critics will be\nnew to most readers: A gentleman having got his portrait painted, the\nartist suggested that he should consult the passers-by as to whether it\nwas a good likeness. Accordingly he asked the first that was going past:\n\"Is this portrait like me?\" The man said: \"The _cap_ is very like.\" When\nthe next was asked, he said: \"The _dress_ is very like.\" He was about to\nask a third, when the painter stopped him, saying: \"The cap and the\ndress do not matter much; ask the person what he thinks of the face.\"\nThe third man hesitated a long time, and then said: \"The _beard_ is very\nlike.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now we shall revert once more to Persian jests, many of which are,\nhowever, also current in India, through the medium of the Persian\nlanguage. When a man becomes suddenly rich it not unfrequently follows\nthat he becomes as suddenly oblivious of his old friends. Thus, a\nPersian having obtained a lucrative appointment at court, a friend of\nhis came shortly afterwards to congratulate him thereon. The new\ncourtier asked him: \"Who are you? And why do you come here?\" The other\ncoolly replied: \"Do you not know me, then? I am your old friend, and am\ncome to condole with you, having heard that you had lately lost your\nsight.\"--This recalls the clever epigram:\n\n  When Jack was poor, the lad was frank and free;\n    Of late he's grown brimful of pride and pelf;\n  You wonder that he don't remember me?\n    Why, don't you see, Jack has forgot himself!\n\nThe humour of the following is--to me, at least--simply exquisite: A man\nwent to a professional scribe and asked him to write a letter for him.\nThe scribe said that he had a pain in his foot. \"A pain in your foot!\"\nechoed the man. \"I don't want to send you to any place that you should\nmake such an excuse.\" \"Very true,\" said the scribe; \"but, whenever I\nwrite a letter for any one, I am always sent for to read it, because no\none else can make it out.\"--And this is a very fair specimen of ready\nwit: During a season of great drought in Persia, a schoolmaster at the\nhead of his pupils marched out of Shiraz to pray (at the tomb of some\nsaint in the suburbs) for rain, when they were met by a waggish fellow,\nwho inquired where they were going. The preceptor informed him, and\nadded that, no doubt, Allah would listen to the prayers of innocent\nchildren. \"Friend,\" quoth the wit, \"if that were the case, I fear there\nwould not be a schoolmaster left alive.\"\n\nThe \"harmless, necessary cat\" has often to bear the blame of\ndepredations in which she had no share--especially the \"lodging-house\ncat\"; and, that such is the fact in Persia as well as nearer our own\ndoors, let a story related by the celebrated poet Jami serve as\nevidence: A husband gave a _man_ of meat to his wife, bidding her cook\nit for his dinner. The woman roasted it and ate it all herself, and when\nher husband asked for the meat she said the cat had stolen it. The\nhusband weighed the cat forthwith, and found that she had not increased\nin weight by eating so much meat; so, with a hundred perplexing\nthoughts, he struck his hand on his knee, and, upbraiding his wife,\nsaid: \"O lady, doubtless the cat, like the meat, weighed one _man_; the\nmeat would add another _man_ thereto. This point is not clear to\nme--that two _mans_ should become one _man_. If this is the cat, where\nis the meat? And if this is the meat, why has it the form of the cat?\"\n\nReaders of our early English jest-books will perhaps remember the story\nof a court-jester being facetiously ordered by the king to make out a\nlist of all the fools in his dominions, who replied that it would be a\nmuch easier task to write down a list of all the wise men. I fancy there\nis some trace of this incident in the following Persian story, though\nthe details are wholly different: Once upon a time a party of merchants\nexhibited to a king some fine horses, which pleased him so well that he\nbought them, and gave the merchants besides a large sum of money to pay\nfor more horses which they were to bring from their own country. Some\ntime after this the king, being merry with wine, said to his chief\nvazir: \"Make me out a list of all the blockheads in my kingdom.\" The\nvazir replied that he had already made out such a list, and had put his\nMajesty's name at the top. \"Why so?\" demanded the king. \"Because,\" said\nthe vazir, \"you gave a great sum of money for horses to be brought by\nmerchants for whom no person is surety, nor does any one know to what\ncountry they belong; and this is surely a sign of stupidity.\" \"But what\nif they should bring the horses?\" The vazir readily replied: \"If they\nshould bring the horses, I should then erase your Majesty's name and put\nthe names of the merchants in its place.\"[30]\n\n   [30] A similar incident is found in the 8th chapter of the\n        Spanish work, _El Conde Lucanor_, written, in the 14th\n        century, by Prince Don Juan Manuel, where a pretended\n        alchemist obtains from a king a large sum of money in\n        order that he should procure in his own distant country\n        a certain thing necessary for the transmutation of the\n        baser metals into gold. The impostor, of course, did not\n        return, and so on, much the same as in the above.--Many\n        others of Don Manuel's tales are traceable to Eastern\n        sources; he was evidently familiar with the Arabic\n        language, and from his long intercourse with the Moors\n        doubtless became acquainted with Asiatic story-books.\n        His manner of telling the stories is, however, wholly\n        his own, and some of them appear to be of his own\n        invention.--There is a variant of the same story in\n        _Pasquils Jests and Mother Bunches Merriments_, in which\n        a servant enters his master's name in a list of all the\n        fools of his acquaintance, because he had lately lent\n        his cousin twenty pounds.\n\nEverybody knows the story of the silly old woman who went to market with\na cow and a hen for sale, and asked only five shillings for the cow, but\nten pounds for the hen. But no such fool was the Arab who lost his\ncamel, and, after a long and fruitless search, anathematised the errant\nquadruped and her father and her mother, and swore by the Prophet that,\nshould he find her, he would sell her for a dirham (sixpence). At length\nhis search was successful, and he at once regretted his oath; but such\nan oath must not be violated, so he tied a cat round the camel's neck,\nand went about proclaiming: \"I will sell this camel for a dirham, and\nthis cat for a hundred dinars (fifty pounds); but I will not sell one\nwithout the other.\" A man who passed by and heard this exclaimed: \"What\na very desirable bargain that camel would be if she had not such a\n_collar_ round her neck!\"[31]\n\n   [31] A variant of this occurs in the _Heptameron_, an\n        uncompleted work in imitation of the _Decameron_,\n        ascribed to Marguerite, queen of Navarre (16th century),\n        but her _valet de chambre_ Bonaventure des Periers is\n        supposed to have had a hand in its composition. In Novel\n        55 it is related that a merchant in Saragossa on his\n        death-bed desired his wife to sell a fine Spanish horse\n        for as much as it would fetch and give the money to the\n        mendicant friars. After his death his widow did not\n        approve of such a legacy, but, in order to obey her late\n        husband's will, she instructed a servant to go to the\n        market and offer the horse for a ducat and her cat for\n        ninety-nine ducats, both, however, to be sold together.\n        A gentleman purchased the horse and the cat, well\n        knowing that the former was fully worth a hundred\n        ducats, and the widow handed over one ducat--for which\n        the horse was nominally sold--to the mendicant friars.\n\nFor readiness of wit the Arabs would seem to compare very favourably\nwith any race, European or Asiatic, and many examples of their\nfelicitous repartees are furnished by native historians and grammarians.\nOne of the best is: When a khalif was addressing the people in a mosque\non his accession to the khalifate, and told them, among other things in\nhis own praise, that the plague which had so long raged in Baghdad had\nceased immediately he became khalif; an old fellow present shouted: \"Of\na truth, Allah was too merciful to give us both _thee_ and the plague at\nthe same time.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe story of the Unlucky Slippers in Cardonne's _Melanges de Litterature\nOrientale_ is a very good specimen of Arabian humour:[32]\n\n   [32] Cardonne took this story from a Turkish work entitled\n        \"_Aja'ib el-ma'asir wa ghara'ib en-nawadir_ (the Wonders\n        of Remarkable Incidents and Rarities of Anecdotes),\" by\n        Ahmed ibn Hemdem Khetkhody, which was composed for\n        Sultan Murad IV, who reigned from A.D. 1623 to 1640.\n\nIn former times there lived in the famous city of Baghdad a miserly old\nmerchant named Abu Kasim. Although very rich, his clothes were mere\nrags; his turban was of coarse cloth, and exceedingly dirty; but his\nslippers were perfect curiosities--the soles were studded with great\nnails, while the upper leathers consisted of as many different pieces as\nthe celebrated ship Argos. He had worn them during ten years, and the\nart of the ablest cobblers in Baghdad had been exhausted in preventing a\ntotal separation of the parts; in short, by frequent accessions of nails\nand patches they had become so heavy that they passed into a proverb,\nand anything ponderous was compared to Abu Kasim's slippers. Walking one\nday in the great bazaar, the purchase of a large quantity of crystal was\noffered to this merchant, and, thinking it a bargain, he bought it. Not\nlong after this, hearing that a bankrupt perfumer had nothing left to\nsell but some rose-water, he took advantage of the poor man's\nmisfortune, and purchased it for half the value. These lucky\nspeculations had put him into good humour, but instead of giving an\nentertainment, according to the custom of merchants when they have made\na profitable bargain, Abu Kasim deemed it more expedient to go to the\nbath, which he had not frequented for some time. As he was undressing,\none of his acquaintances told him that his slippers made him the\nlaughing-stock of the whole city, and that he ought to provide himself\nwith a new pair. \"I have been thinking about it,\" he answered; \"however,\nthey are not so very much worn but they will serve some time longer.\"\nWhile he was washing himself, the kazi of Baghdad came also to bathe.\nAbu Kasim, coming out before the judge, took up his clothes but could\nnot find his slippers--a new pair being placed in their room. Our miser,\npersuaded, because he wished it, that the friend who had spoken to him\nabout his old slippers had made him a present, without hesitation put on\nthese fine ones, and left the bath highly delighted. But when the kazi\nhad finished bathing, his servants searched in vain for his slippers;\nnone could be found but a wretched pair, which were at once identified\nas those of Abu Kasim. The officers hastened after the supposed thief,\nand, bringing him back with the theft on his feet, the kazi, after\nexchanging slippers, committed him to prison. There was no escaping from\nthe claws of justice without money, and, as Abu Kasim was known to be\nvery rich, he was fined in a considerable sum.\n\nOn returning home, our merchant, in a fit of indignation, flung his\nslippers into the Tigris, that ran beneath his window. Some days after\nthey were dragged out in a fisherman's net that came up more heavy than\nusual. The nails with which the soles were thickly studded had torn the\nmeshes of the net, and the fisherman, exasperated against the miserly\nAbu Kasim and his slippers--for they were known to everyone--determined\nto throw them into his house through the window he had left open. The\nslippers, thrown with great force, reached the jars of rose-water, and\nsmashed them in pieces, to the intense consternation of the owner.\n\"Cursed slippers!\" cried he, tearing his beard, \"you shall cause me no\nfarther mischief!\" So saying, he took a spade and began to dig a hole in\nhis garden to bury them. One of his neighbours, who had long borne him\nill-will, perceiving him busied in digging the ground, ran at once to\ninform the governor that Abu Kasim had discovered some hidden treasure\nin his garden. Nothing more was needful to rouse the cupidity of the\ncommandant. In vain did our miser protest that he had found no treasure;\nand that he only meant to bury his old slippers. The governor had\ncounted on the money, so the afflicted man could only preserve his\nliberty at the expense of a large sum of money. Again heartily cursing\nthe slippers, in order to effectually rid himself of them, he threw them\ninto an aqueduct at some distance from the city, persuaded that he\nshould now hear no more of them. But his evil genius had not yet\nsufficiently plagued him: the slippers got into the mouth of the pipe\nand stopped the flow of the water. The keepers of the aqueduct made\nhaste to repair the damage, and, finding the obstruction was caused by\nAbu Kasim's slippers, complained of this to the governor, and once more\nwas Abu Kasim heavily fined, but the governor considerately returned him\nthe slippers. He now resolved to burn them, but, finding them thoroughly\nsoaked with water, he exposed them to the sun upon the terrace of his\nhouse. A neighbour's dog, perceiving the slippers, leaped from the\nterrace of his master's house upon that of Abu Kasim, and, seizing one\nof them in his mouth, he let it drop into the street: the fatal slipper\nfell directly on the head of a woman who was passing at the time, and\nthe fright as well as the violence of the blow caused her to miscarry.\nHer husband brought his complaint before the kazi, and Abu Kasim was\nagain sentenced to pay a fine proportioned to the calamity he was\nsupposed to have occasioned. He then took the slippers in his hand, and,\nwith a vehemence that made the judge laugh, said: \"Behold, my lord, the\nfatal instruments of my misfortune! These cursed slippers have at length\nreduced me to poverty. Vouchsafe, therefore, to publish an order that no\none may any more impute to me the disasters they may yet occasion.\" The\nkazi could not refuse his request, and thus Abu Kasim learned, to his\nbitter cost, the danger of wearing his slippers too long.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE YOUNG MERCHANT OF BAGHDAD; OR, THE WILES OF WOMAN.\n\n\nToo many Eastern stories turn upon the artful devices of women to screen\ntheir own profligacy, but there is one, told by Arab Shah, the\ncelebrated historian, who died A.D. 1450, in a collection entitled\n_Fakihat al-Khalifa_, or Pastimes of the Khalifs, in which a lady\nexhibits great ingenuity, without any very objectionable motive. It is\nto the following effect:\n\nA young merchant in Baghdad had placed over the front of his shop,\ninstead of a sentence from the Kuran, as is customary, these arrogant\nwords: \"VERILY THERE IS NO CUNNING LIKE UNTO THAT OF MAN, SEEING IT\nSURPASSES THE CUNNING OF WOMEN.\" It happened one day that a very\nbeautiful young lady, who had been sent by her aunt to purchase some\nrich stuffs for dresses, noticed this inscription, and at once resolved\nto compel the despiser of her sex to alter it. Entering the shop, she\nsaid to him, after the usual salutations: \"You see my person; can anyone\npresume to say that I am humpbacked?\" He had hardly recovered from the\nastonishment caused by such a question, when the lady drew her veil a\nlittle to one side and continued: \"Surely my neck is not as that of a\nraven, or as the ebony idols of Ethiopia?\" The young merchant, between\nsurprise and delight, signified his assent. \"Nor is my chin double,\"\nsaid she, still farther unveiling her face; \"nor my lips thick, like\nthose of a Tartar?\" Here the young merchant smiled. \"Nor are they to be\nbelieved who say that my nose is flat and my cheeks are sunken?\" The\nmerchant was about to express his horror at the bare idea of such\nblasphemy, when the lady wholly removed her veil and allowed her beauty\nto flash upon the bewildered youth, who instantly became madly in love\nwith her. \"Fairest of creatures!\" he cried, \"to what accident do I owe\nthe view of those charms, which are hidden from the eyes of the less\nfortunate of my sex?\" She replied: \"You see in me an unfortunate damsel,\nand I shall explain the cause of my present conduct. My mother, who was\nsister to a rich amir of Mecca, died some years ago, leaving my father\nin possession of an immense fortune and myself as sole heiress. I am now\nseventeen, my personal endowments are such as you behold, and a very\nsmall portion of my mother's fortune would quite suffice to obtain for\nme a good establishment in marriage. Yet such is the unfeeling avarice\nof my father, that he absolutely refuses me the least trifle to settle\nme in life. The only counsellor to whom I could apply for help in this\nextremity was my kind nurse, and it is by her advice, as well as from\nthe high opinion I have ever heard expressed of your merits, that I have\nbeen induced to throw myself upon your goodness in this extraordinary\nmanner.\" The emotions of the young merchant on hearing this story, may\nbe readily imagined. \"Cruel parent!\" he exclaimed. \"He must be a rock of\nthe desert, not a man, who can condemn so charming a person to perpetual\nsolitude, when the slightest possible sacrifice on his part might\nprevent it. May I inquire his name?\" \"He is the chief kazi,\" replied the\nlady, and disappeared like a vision.\n\nThe young merchant lost no time in waiting on the kazi at his court of\njustice, whom he thus addressed: \"My lord, I am come to ask your\ndaughter in marriage, of whom I am deeply enamoured.\" Quoth the judge:\n\"Sir, my daughter is unworthy of the honour you design for her. But be\npleased to accompany me to my dwelling, where we can talk over this\nmatter more at leisure.\" They proceeded thither accordingly, and after\npartaking of refreshments, the young man repeated his request, giving a\ntrue account of his position and prospects, and offering to settle\nfifteen purses on the young lady. The kazi expressed his gratification,\nbut doubted whether the offer was made in all seriousness, but when\nassured that such was the case, he said: \"I no longer doubt your\nearnestness and sincerity in this affair; it is, however, just possible\nthat your feelings may change after the marriage, and it is but natural\nthat I should now take proper precautions for my daughter's welfare. You\nwill not blame me, therefore, if, in addition to the fifteen purses you\nhave offered, I require that five more be paid down previous to the\nmarriage, to be forfeited in case of a divorce.\" \"Say ten,\" cried the\nmerchant, and the kazi looked more and more astonished, and even\nventured to remonstrate with him on his precipitancy, but without\neffect. To be brief, the kazi consented, the ten purses were paid down,\nthe legal witnesses summoned, and the nuptial contract signed that very\nevening; the consummation of the marriage being, much against the will\nof our lover, deferred till the following day.\n\nWhen the wedding guests had dispersed, the young merchant was admitted\nto the chamber of his bride, whom he discovered to be humpbacked and\nhideous beyond conception! As soon as it was day, he arose from his\nsleepless couch and repaired to the public baths, where, after his\nablutions, he gave himself up to melancholy reflections. Mingled with\ngrief for his disappointment was mortification at having been the dupe\nof what now appeared to him a very shallow artifice, which nothing but\nhis own passionate and unthinking precipitation could have rendered\nplausible. Nor was he without some twinges of conscience for the\nsarcasms which he had often uttered against women, and for which his\npresent sufferings were no more than a just retribution. Then came\nmeditations of revenge upon the beautiful author of all this mischief;\nand then his thoughts reverted to the possible means of escape from his\ndifficulties: the forfeiture of the ten purses, to say nothing of the\nimplacable resentment of the kazi and his relatives; and he bethought\nhimself how he should become the talk of his neighbourhood--how Malik\nbin Omar, the jeweller, would sneer at him, and Salih, the barber, talk\nsententiously of his folly. At length, finding reflection of no avail,\nhe arose and with slow and pensive steps proceeded to his shop.\n\nHis marriage with the kazi's deformed daughter had already become known\nto his neighbours, who presently came to rally him upon his choice of\nsuch a bride, and scarcely had they left when the young lady who had so\nartfully tricked him entered with a playful smile on her lips, and a\nglancing in her dark eye, which speedily put to flight the young\nmerchant's thoughts of revenge. He arose and greeted her courteously.\n\"May this day be propitious to thee!\" said she. \"May Allah protect and\nbless thee!\" Replied he: \"Fairest of earthly creatures, how have I\noffended thee that thou shouldst make me the subject of thy sport?\"\n\"From thee,\" she said, \"I have received no personal injury.\" \"What,\nthen, can have been thy motive for practising so cruel a deception on\none who has never harmed thee?\" The young lady simply pointed to the\ninscription over the shop front. The merchant was abashed, but felt\nsomewhat relieved on seeing good humour beaming from her beautiful eyes,\nand he immediately took down the inscription, and substituted another,\nwhich declared that \"TRULY THERE IS NO CUNNING LIKE UNTO THE CUNNING OF\nWOMEN, SEEING IT SURPASSES AND CONFOUNDS EVEN THE CUNNING OF MEN.\" Then\nthe young lady communicated to him a plan by which he might get rid of\nhis objectionable bride without incurring her father's resentment, which\nhe forthwith put into practice.\n\nNext morning, as the kazi and his son-in-law were taking their coffee\ntogether, in the house of the former, they heard a strange noise in the\nstreet, and, descending to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, found\nthat it proceeded from a crowd of low fellows--mountebanks, and such\nlike gentry, who had assembled with all sorts of musical instruments,\nwith which they kept up a deafening din, at the same time dancing and\ncapering about, and loudly felicitating themselves on the marriage of\ntheir pretended kinsman with the kazi's daughter. The young merchant\nacknowledged their compliments by throwing handfuls of money among the\ncrowd, which caused a renewal of the dreadful clamour. When the noise\nhad somewhat subsided, the kazi, hitherto dumb from astonishment, turned\nto his son-in-law, and demanded to know the meaning of such a scene\nbefore his mansion. The merchant replied that the leaders of the crowd\nwere his kinsfolk, although his father had abandoned the fraternity and\nadopted commercial pursuits. He could not, however, disown his kindred,\neven for the sake of the kazi's daughter. On hearing this the judge was\nbeside himself with rage and mortification, exclaiming: \"Dog, and son of\na dog! what dirt is this you have made me eat?\" The merchant reminded\nhim that he was now his son-in-law; that his daughter was his lawful\nwife; declaring that he would not part with her for untold wealth. But\nthe kazi insisted upon a divorce and returned the merchant his ten\npurses. In the sequel, the young merchant, having ascertained the\nparentage of the clever damsel, obtained her in marriage, and lived with\nher for many years in happiness and prosperity.[33]\n\n   [33] This story has been taken from Arab Shah into the\n        Breslau printed Arabic text of the _Thousand and One\n        Nights_, where it is related at great length. The\n        original was rendered into French under the title of\n        \"Ruses des Femmes\" (in the Arabic _Ked-an-Nisa_,\n        Stratagems of Women) by Lescallier, and appended to his\n        version of the Voyages of Sindbad, published at Paris in\n        1814, long before the Breslau text of _The Nights_ was\n        known to exist. It also forms part of one of the Persian\n        Tales (_Hazar u Yek Ruz_, 1001 Days) translated by Petis\n        de la Croix, where, however, the trick is played on the\n        kazi, not on a young merchant.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nASHAAB THE COVETOUS--THE STINGY MERCHANT AND THE HUNGRY BEDOUIN--THE\nSECT OF SAMRADIANS--THE STORY-TELLER AND THE KING--ROYAL GIFTS TO\nPOETS--THE PERSIAN POET AND THE IMPOSTOR--\"STEALING POETRY\"--THE RICH\nMAN AND THE POOR POET.\n\n\nAvaricious and covetous men are always the just objects of derision as\nwell as contempt, and surely covetousness was quite concentrated in the\nperson of Ashaab, a servant of Othman (seventh century), and a native of\nMedina, whose character has been very amusingly drawn by the scholiast:\nHe never saw a man put his hand into his pocket without hoping and\nexpecting that he would give him something. He never saw a funeral go\nby, but he was pleased, hoping that the deceased had left him something.\nHe never saw a bride about to be conducted through the streets to the\nhouse of the bridegroom but he prepared his own house for her reception,\nhoping that her friends would bring her to his house by mistake. If he\nsaw a workman making a box, he took care to tell him that he was putting\nin one or two boards too many, hoping that he would give him what was\nover, or, at least, something for the suggestion. He is said to have\nfollowed a man who was chewing mastic (a sort of gum, chewed, like\nbetel, by Orientals as a pastime) for a whole mile, thinking he was\nperhaps eating food, intending, if so, to ask him for some. When the\nyouths of the town jeered and taunted him, he told them there was a\nwedding at such a house, in order to get rid of them (because they would\ngo to get a share of the bonbons distributed there); but, as soon as\nthey were gone, it struck him that possibly what he had told them was\ntrue, and that they would not have quitted him had they not been aware\nof its truth; and he actually followed them himself to see what he could\ndo, though exposing himself thereby to fresh taunts from them. When\nasked whether he knew anyone more covetous than himself, he said: \"Yes;\na sheep I once had, that climbed to an upper stage of my house, and,\nseeing a rainbow, mistook it for a rope of hay, and jumping at it, broke\nher neck\"--whence \"Ashaab's sheep\" became proverbial among the Arabs for\ncovetousness as well as Ashaab himself.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHospitality has ever been the characteristic virtue of the Arabs, and a\nmean, stingy disposition is rarely to be found among them. A droll story\nof an Arab of the latter description has been rendered into verse by the\nPersian poet Liwa'i, the substance of which is as follows: An Arab\nmerchant who had been trading between Mecca and Damascus, at length\nturned his face homeward, and had reached within one stage of his house\nwhen he sat down to rest and to refresh himself with the contents of his\nwallet. While he was eating, a Bedouin, weary and hungry, came up, and,\nhoping to be invited to share his repast, saluted him, \"Peace be with\nthee!\" which the merchant returned, and asked the nomad who he was and\nwhence he came. \"I have come from thy house,\" was the answer. \"Then,\"\nsaid the merchant, \"how fares my son Ahmed, absence from whom has\ngrieved me sore?\" \"Thy son grows apace in health and innocence.\" \"Good!\nand how is his mother?\" \"She, too, is free from the shadow of sorrow.\"\n\"And how is my beauteous camel, so strong to bear his load?\" \"Thy camel\nis sleek and fat.\" \"My house-dog, too, that guards my gate, pray how is\nhe?\" \"He is on the mat before thy door, by day, by night, on constant\nguard.\" The merchant, having thus his doubts and fears removed, resumed\nhis meal with freshened appetite, but gave nought to the poor nomad,\nand, having finished, closed his wallet. The Bedouin, seeing his\nstinginess, writhed with the pangs of hunger. Presently a gazelle passed\nrapidly by them, at which he sighed heavily, and the merchant inquiring\nthe cause of his sorrow, he said: \"The cause is this--had not thy dog\ndied he would not have allowed that gazelle to escape!\" \"My dog!\"\nexclaimed the merchant. \"Is my doggie, then, dead?\" \"He died from\ngorging himself with thy camel's blood.\" \"Who hath cast this dust on\nme?\" cried the merchant. \"What of my camel?\" \"Thy camel was slaughtered\nto furnish the funeral feast of thy wife.\" \"Is my wife, too, dead?\" \"Her\ngrief for Ahmed's death was such that she dashed her head against a\nrock.\" \"But, Ahmed,\" asked the father--\"how came he to die?\" \"The house\nfell in and crushed him.\" The merchant heard this tale with full belief,\nrent his robe, cast sand upon his head, then started swiftly homeward to\nbewail his wife and son, leaving behind his well-filled wallet, a prey\nto the starving desert-wanderer.[34]\n\n   [34] A variant of this story is found in Le Grand's _Fabliaux\n        et Contes_, ed. 1781, tome iv, p. 119, and it was\n        probably brought from the East during the Crusades:\n        Maimon was a valet to a count. His master, returning\n        home from a tourney, met him on the way, and asked him\n        where he was going. He replied, with great coolness,\n        that he was going to seek a lodging somewhere. \"A\n        lodging!\" said the count. \"What then has happened at\n        home?\" \"Nothing, my lord. Only your dog, whom you love\n        so much, is dead.\" \"How so?\" \"Your fine palfrey, while\n        being exercised in the court, became frightened, and in\n        running fell into the well.\" \"Ah, who startled the\n        horse?\" \"It was your son, Damaiseau, who fell at its\n        feet from the window.\" \"My son!--O Heaven! Where, then,\n        were his servant and his mother? Is he injured?\" \"Yes,\n        sire, he has been killed by falling. And when they went\n        to tell it to madame, she was so affected that she fell\n        dead also without speaking.\" \"Rascal! in place of flying\n        away, why hast thou not gone to seek assistance, or why\n        didst thou not remain at the chateau?\" \"There is no more\n        need, sire; for Marotte, in watching madame, fell\n        asleep. A light caused the fire, and there remains\n        nothing now.\"--Truly a delicate way of \"breaking ill\n        news\"!\n\nThe Samradian sect of fire-worshippers, who believe only in the \"ideal,\"\nanticipated Bishop Berkeley's theory, thus referred to by Lord Byron\n(_Don Juan_, xi, 1):\n\n  When Bishop Berkeley said, \"there was no matter,\"\n    And proved it--'twas no matter what he said;\n  They say, his system 'tis in vain to batter,\n    Too subtle for the airiest human head.\n\nSome amusing anecdotes regarding this singular sect are given in the\nDabistan, a work written in Persian, which furnishes a very impartial\naccount of the principal religions of the world: A Samradian said to his\nservant: \"The world and its inhabitants have no actual existence--they\nhave merely an ideal being.\" The servant, on hearing this, took the\nfirst opportunity to steal his master's horse, and when he was about to\nride, brought him an ass with the horse's saddle. When the Samradian\nasked: \"Where is the horse?\" he replied: \"Thou hast been thinking of an\nidea; there was no horse in being.\" The master said: \"It is true,\" and\nthen mounted the ass. Having proceeded some distance, followed by his\nservant on foot, he suddenly dismounted, and taking the saddle off the\nback of the ass placed it on the servant's back, drawing the girths\ntightly, and, having forced the bridle into his mouth, he mounted him,\nand flogged him along vigorously. The servant having exclaimed in\npiteous accents: \"What is the meaning of this, O master?\" the Samradian\nreplied: \"There is no such thing as a whip; it is merely ideal. Thou art\nthinking only of a delusion.\" It is needless to add that the servant\nimmediately repented and restored the horse.--Another of this sect\nhaving obtained in marriage the daughter of a wealthy lawyer, she, on\nfinding out her husband's peculiar creed, purposed to have some\namusement at his expense. One day the Samradian brought home a bottle of\nexcellent wine, which during his absence she emptied of its contents and\nfilled again with water. When the time came for taking wine, she poured\nout the water into a gold cup, which Was her own property. The Samradian\nremarked: \"Thou hast given me water instead of wine.\" \"It is only\nideal,\" she answered; \"there was no wine in existence.\" The husband then\nsaid: \"Thou hast spoken well; give me the cup that I may go to a\nneighbour's house and bring it back full of wine.\" He thereupon took the\ngold cup and went out and sold it, concealing the money, and, instead of\nthe gold vase, he brought back an earthen vessel filled with wine. The\nwife, on seeing this, said: \"What hast thou done with the golden cup?\"\nHe quietly replied: \"Thou art surely thinking of an ideal gold cup,\" on\nwhich the lady sorely repented her witticism.[35]\n\n   [35] _The Dabistan, or School of Manners_. Translated from\n        the original Persian, by David Shea and Anthony Troyer.\n        3 vols. Published by the Oriental Translation Fund,\n        1843. Vol. i, 198-200. The author of this work is said\n        to be Moshan Fani, who flourished at Hyderabad about the\n        end of the 18th century.\n\nI do not know whether there are any English parallels to these stories,\nbut I have read of a Greek sage who instructed his slave that all that\noccurred in this world was the decree of Fate. The slave shortly after\ndeliberately committed some offence, upon which his master commenced to\nsoften his ribs with a stout cudgel, and when the slave pleaded that it\nwas no fault of his, it was the decree of Fate, his master grimly\nreplied that it was also decreed that he should have a sound beating.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn _Don Quixote_, it will be remembered by all readers of that\ndelightful work, Sancho begins to tell the knight a long story about a\nman who had to ferry across a river a large flock of sheep, but he could\nonly take one at a time, as the boat could hold no more. This story\nCervantes, in all likelihood, borrowed from the _Disciplina Clericalis_\nof Petrus Alfonsus, a converted Spanish Jew, who flourished in the 12th\ncentury, and who avowedly derived the materials of his work from the\nArabian fabulists--probably part of them also from the Talmud.[36] His\neleventh tale is of a king who desired his minstrel to tell him a long\nstory that should lull him to sleep. The story-teller accordingly begins\nto relate how a man had to cross a ferry with 600 sheep, two at a time,\nand falls asleep in the midst of his narration. The king awakes him, but\nthe story-teller begs that the man be allowed to ferry over the sheep\nbefore he resumes the story.[37]--Possibly the original form of the\nstory is that found in the _Katha Manjari_, an ancient Indian\nstory-book: There was a king who used to inquire of all the learned men\nwho came to his court whether they knew any stories, and when they had\nrelated all they knew, in order to avoid rewarding them, he abused them\nfor knowing so few, and sent them away. A shrewd and clever man, hearing\nof this, presented himself before the king, who asked his name. He\nreplied that his name was Ocean of Stories. The king then inquired how\nmany stories he knew, to which he answered that the name of Ocean had\nbeen conferred on him because he knew an endless number. On being\ndesired to relate one, he thus began: \"O King, there was a tank 36,000\nmiles in breadth, and 54,000 in length. This was densely filled with\nlotus plants, and millions upon millions of birds with golden wings\n[called Hamsa] perched on those flowers. One day a hurricane arose,\naccompanied with rain, which the birds were not able to endure, and they\nentered a cave under a rock, which was in the vicinity of the tank.\" The\nking asked what happened next, and he replied that one of the birds flew\naway. The king again inquired what else occurred, and he answered:\n\"Another flew away\"; and to every question of the king he continued to\ngive the same answer. At this the king felt ashamed, and, seeing it was\nimpossible to outwit the man, he dismissed him with a handsome present.\n\n   [36] Pedro Alfonso (the Spanish form of his adopted name) was\n        originally a Jewish Rabbi, and was born in 1062, at\n        Huesca, in the kingdom of Arragon. He was reputed a man\n        of very great learning, and on his being baptised (at\n        the age of 44) was appointed by Alfonso XV, king of\n        Castile and Leon, physician to the royal household. His\n        work, above referred to, is written in Latin, and has\n        been translated into French, but not as yet into\n        English. An outline of the tales, by Douce, will be\n        found prefixed to Ellis' _Early English Metrical\n        Romances_.\n\n   [37] This is also the subject of one of the _Fabliaux_.--In\n        a form similar to the story in Alfonsus it is current\n        among the Milanese, and a Sicilian version is as\n        follows: Once upon a time there was a prince who studied\n        and racked his brains so much that he learned magic and\n        the art of finding hidden treasures. One day he\n        discovered a treasure in Daisisa. \"O,\" he says, \"now I\n        am going to get it out.\" But to get it out it was\n        necessary that ten million million of ants should cross\n        the river one by one in a bark made of the half-shell of\n        a nut. The prince puts the bark in the river, and makes\n        the ants pass over--one, two, three; and they are still\n        doing it. Here the story-teller pauses and says: \"We\n        will finish the story when the ants have finished\n        crossing the river.\"--Crane's _Italian Popular Tales_,\n        p. 156.\n\nA story bearing some resemblance to this is related of a khalif who was\nwont to cheat poets of their expected reward when they recited their\ncompositions to him, until he was at length outwitted by the famous\nArabian poet Al-Asma'i: It is said that a khalif, who was very\npenurious, contrived by a trick to send from his presence without any\nreward those poets who came and recited their compositions to him. He\nhad himself the faculty of retaining in his memory a poem after hearing\nit only once; he had a mamluk (white slave) who could repeat one that he\nhad heard twice; and a slave-girl who could repeat one that she had\nheard thrice. Whenever a poet came to compliment him with a panegyrical\npoem, the king used to promise him that if he found his verses to be of\nhis own composition he would give him a sum of money equal in weight to\nwhat they were written on. The poet, consenting, would recite his ode,\nand the king would say: \"It is not new, for I have known it some years\";\nand he would repeat it as he had heard it; after which he would add:\n\"And this mamluk also retains it in his memory,\" and order the mamluk to\nrepeat it, which, having heard it twice, from the poet and the king, he\nwould do. Then the king would say to the poet: \"I have also a slave-girl\nwho can repeat it,\" and, ordering her to do so, stationed behind the\ncurtains, she would repeat what she had thus thrice heard; so the poet\nwould go away empty-handed. The celebrated poet Al-Asma'i, having heard\nof this device, determined upon outwitting the king, and accordingly\ncomposed an ode made up of very difficult words. But this was not the\npoet's only preparative measure--another will be presently explained;\nand a third was to assume the dress of a Bedouin, that he might not be\nknown, covering his face, the eyes only excepted, with a _litham_ (piece\nof drapery), as is usual with the Arabs of the desert. Thus disguised,\nhe went to the palace, and having obtained permission, entered and\nsaluted the king, who said to him: \"Who art thou, O brother of the\nArabs? and what dost thou desire?\" The poet answered: \"May Allah\nincrease the power of the king! I am a poet of such a tribe, and have\ncomposed an ode in praise of our lord the khalif.\" \"O brother of the\nArabs,\" said the king, \"hast thou heard of our condition?\" \"No,\"\nanswered the poet; \"and what is it, O khalif of the age?\" \"It is,\"\nreplied the king, \"that if the ode be not thine, we give thee no reward;\nand if it be thine, we give thee the weight in money equal to what it is\nwritten upon.\" \"How,\" said the poet, \"should I assume to myself that\nwhich belongeth to another, and knowing, too, that lying before kings is\none of the basest of actions? But I agree to the condition, O our lord\nthe khalif.\" So he repeated his ode. The king, perplexed, and unable to\nremember any of it, made a sign to the mamluk, but he had retained\nnothing; then called to the female slave, but she was unable to repeat a\nword. \"O brother of the Arabs,\" said the king, \"thou hast spoken truth;\nand the ode is thine without doubt. I have never heard it before.\nProduce, therefore, what it is written upon, and I will give thee its\nweight in money, as I have promised.\" \"Wilt thou,\" said the poet, \"send\none of the attendants to carry it?\" \"To carry what?\" demanded the king.\n\"Is it not upon a paper in thy possession?\" \"No, O our lord the khalif.\nAt the time I composed it I could not procure a piece of paper on which\nto write it, and could find nothing but a fragment of a marble column\nleft me by my father; so I engraved it upon that, and it lies in the\ncourtyard of the palace.\" He had brought it, wrapped up, on the back of\na camel. The king, to fulfil his promise, was obliged to exhaust his\ntreasury; and, to prevent a repetition of this trick, in future rewarded\npoets according to the custom of kings.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Apropos_ of royal gifts to poets, it is related that, when the Afghans\nhad possession of Persia, a rude chief of that nation was governor of\nShiraz. A poet composed a panegyric on his wisdom, his valour, and his\nvirtues. As he was taking it to the palace he was met by a friend at the\nouter gate, who inquired where he was going, and he informed him of his\npurpose. His friend asked him if he was insane, to offer an ode to a\nbarbarian who hardly understood a word of the Persian language. \"All\nthat you say may be very true,\" said the poor poet, \"but I am starving,\nand have no means of livelihood but by making verses. I must, therefore,\nproceed.\" He went and stood before the governor with his ode in his\nhand. \"Who is that fellow?\" said the Afghan lord. \"And what is that\npaper which he holds?\" \"I am a poet,\" answered the man, \"and this paper\ncontains some poetry.\" \"What is the use of poetry?\" demanded the\ngovernor. \"To render great men like you immortal,\" he replied, making at\nthe same time a profound bow. \"Let us hear some of it.\" The poet, on\nthis mandate, began reading his composition aloud, but he had not\nfinished the second stanza when he was interrupted. \"Enough!\" exclaimed\nthe governor; \"I understand it all. Give the poor man some money--_that_\nis what he wants.\" As the poet retired he met his friend, who again\ncommented on the folly of carrying odes to a man who did not understand\none of them. \"Not understand!\" he replied. \"You are quite mistaken. He\nhas beyond all men the quickest apprehension of a _poet's meaning_!\"\n\nThe khalifs were frequently lavish of their gifts to poets, but they\nwere fond of having their little jokes with them when in merry mood. One\nday the Arabian poet Thalebi read before the khalif Al-Mansur a poem\nwhich he had just composed, and it found acceptance. The khalif said: \"O\nThalebi, which wouldst thou rather have--that I give thee 300 gold\ndinars [about L150], or three wise sayings, each worth 100 dinars?\" The\npoet replied: \"Learning, O Commander of the Faithful, is better than\ntransitory treasure.\" \"Well, then,\" said the khalif, \"the first saying\nis: When thy garment grows old, sew not a new patch on it, for it hath\nan ill look.\" \"O woe!\" cried the poet, \"one hundred dinars are lost!\"\nMansur smiled, and proceeded: \"The second saying is: When thou anointest\nthy beard, anoint not the lower part, for that would soil the collar of\nthy vest.\" \"Alas!\" exclaimed Thalebi, \"a thousand times, alas! two\nhundred dinars are lost!\" Again the khalif smiled, and continued: \"The\nthird saying\"--but before he had spoken it, the poet said: \"O khalif of\nour prosperity, keep the third maxim in thy treasury, and give me the\nremaining hundred dinars, for they will be worth a thousand times more\nto me than the hearing of maxims.\" At this the khalif laughed heartily,\nand commanded his treasurer to give Thalebi five hundred dinars of gold.\n\nA droll story is told of the Persian poet Anwari: Passing the\nmarket-place of Balkh one day, he saw a crowd of people standing in a\nring, and going up, he put his head within the circle and found a fellow\nreciting the poems of Anwari himself as his own. Anwari went up to the\nman, and said: \"Sir, whose poems are these you are reciting?\" He\nreplied: \"They are Anwari's.\" \"Do you know him, then?\" said Anwari. The\nman, with cool effrontery, answered: \"What do you say? I am Anwari.\" On\nhearing this Anwari laughed, and remarked: \"I have heard of one who\nstole poetry, but never of one who stole the poet himself!\"--Talking of\n\"stealing poetry,\" Jami tells us that a man once brought a composition\nto a critic, every line of which he had plagiarised from different\ncollections of poems, and each rhetorical figure from various authors.\nQuoth the critic: \"For a wonder, thou hast brought a line of camels; but\nif the string were untied, every one of the herd would run away in\ndifferent directions.\"\n\nThere is no little humour in the story of the Persian poet who wrote a\neulogium on a rich man, but got nothing for his trouble; he then abused\nthe rich man, but he said nothing; he next seated himself at the rich\nman's gate, who said to him: \"You praised me, and I said nothing; you\nabused me, and I said nothing; and now, why are you sitting here?\" The\npoet answered: \"I only wish that when you die I may perform the funeral\nservice.\"\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nUNLUCKY OMENS--THE OLD MAN'S PRAYER--THE OLD WOMAN IN THE MOSQUE--THE\nWEEPING TURKMANS--THE TEN FOOLISH PEASANTS--THE WAKEFUL SERVANT--THE\nTHREE DERVISHES--THE OIL-MAN'S PARROT--THE MOGHUL AND HIS PARROT--THE\nPERSIAN SHOPKEEPER AND THE PRIME MINISTER--HEBREW FACETIAE.\n\n\nMuslims and other Asiatic peoples, like Europeans not so many centuries\nsince, are always on the watch for lucky or unlucky omens. On first\ngoing out of a morning, the looks and countenances of those who cross\ntheir path are scrutinised, and a smile or a frown is deemed favourable\nor the reverse. To encounter a person blind of the left eye, or even\nwith one eye, forebodes sorrow and calamity. While Sir John Malcolm was\nin Persia, as British Ambassador, he was told the following story: When\nAbbas the Great was hunting, he met one morning as day dawned an\nuncommonly ugly man, at the sight of whom his horse started. Being\nnearly dismounted, and deeming it a bad omen, the king called out in a\nrage to have his head cut off. The poor peasant, whom the attendants had\nseized and were on the point of executing, prayed that he might be\ninformed of his crime. \"Your crime,\" said the king, \"is your unlucky\ncountenance, which is the first object I saw this morning, and which has\nnearly caused me to fall from my horse.\" \"Alas!\" said the man, \"by this\nreckoning what term must I apply to your Majesty's countenance, which\nwas the first object my eyes met this morning, and which is to cause my\ndeath?\" The king smiled at the wit of the reply, ordered the man to be\nreleased, and gave him a present instead of cutting off his\nhead.--Another Persian story is to the same purpose: A man said to his\nservant: \"If you see two crows together early in the morning, apprise me\nof it, that I may also behold them, as it will be a good omen, whereby I\nshall pass the day pleasantly.\" The servant did happen to see two crows\nsitting in one place, and informed his master, who, however, when he\ncame saw but one, the other having in the meantime flown away. He was\nvery angry, and began to beat the servant, when a friend sent him a\npresent of game. Upon this the servant exclaimed: \"O my lord! you saw\nonly one crow, and have received a fine present; had you seen _two_, you\nwould have met with _my_ fare.\"[38]\n\n   [38] This last jest reappears in the apocryphal Life of Esop,\n        by Planudes, the only difference being that Esop's\n        master is invited to a feast, instead of receiving a\n        present of game, upon which Esop exclaims: \"Alas! I see\n        two crows, and I am beaten; you see one, and are asked\n        to a feast. What a delusion is augury!\"\n\nIt would seem, from the following story, that an old man's prayers are\nsometimes reversed in response, as dreams are said to \"go by\ncontraries\": An old Arab left his house one morning, intending to go to\na village at some distance, and coming to the foot of a hill which he\nhad to cross he exclaimed: \"O Allah! send some one to help me over this\nhill.\" Scarcely had he uttered these words when up came a fierce\nsoldier, leading a mare with a very young colt by her side, who\ncompelled the old man, with oaths and threats, to carry the colt. As\nthey trudged along, they met a poor woman with a sick child in her arms.\nThe old man, as he laboured under the weight of the colt, kept groaning,\n\"O Allah! O Allah!\" and, supposing him to be a dervish, the woman asked\nhim to pray for the recovery of her child. In compliance, the old man\nsaid: \"O Allah! I beseech thee to shorten the days of this poor child.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried the mother, \"why hast thou made such a cruel prayer?\"\n\"Fear nothing,\" said the old man; \"thy child will assuredly enjoy long\nlife. It is my fate to have the reverse of whatever I pray for. I\nimplored Allah for assistance to carry me over this hill, and, by way of\nhelp, I suppose, I have had this colt imposed on my shoulders.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nJami tells this humorous story in the Sixth \"Garden\" of his\n_Baharistan_, or Abode of Spring: A man said the prescribed prayers in a\nmosque and then began his personal supplications. An old woman, who\nhappened to be near him, exclaimed: \"O Allah! cause me to share in\nwhatsoever he supplicates for.\" The man, overhearing her, then prayed:\n\"O Allah! hang me on a gibbet, and cause me to die of scourging.\" The\nold trot continued: \"O Allah! pardon me, and preserve me from what he\nhas asked for.\" Upon this the man turned to her and said: \"What a very\nunreasonable partner this is! She desires to share in all that gives\nrest and pleasure, but she refuses to be my partner in distress and\nmisery.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have already seen that even the grave and otiose Turk is not devoid\nof a sense of the ludicrous, and here is another example, from Mr.\nE. J. W. Gibb's translation of the _History of the Forty Vezirs_: A party\nof Turkmans left their encampment one day and went into a neighbouring\ncity. Returning home, as they drew near their tents, they felt hungry,\nand sat down and ate some bread and onions at a spring-head. The juice\nof the onions went into their eyes and caused them to water. Now the\nchildren of those Turkmans had gone out to meet them, and, seeing the\ntears flow from their eyes, they concluded that one of their number had\ndied in the city, so, without making any inquiry, they ran back, and\nsaid to their mothers: \"One of ours is dead in the city, and our fathers\nare coming weeping.\" Upon this all the women and children of the\nencampment went forth to meet them, weeping together. The Turkmans who\nwere coming from the city thought that one of theirs had died in the\nencampment; and thus they were without knowledge one of the other, and\nthey raised a weeping and wailing together such that it cannot be\ndescribed. At length the elders of the camp stood up in their midst and\nsaid: \"May ye all remain whole; there is none other help than patience\";\nand they questioned them. The Turkmans coming from the city asked: \"Who\nis dead in the camp?\" The others replied: \"No one is dead in the camp;\nwho has died in the city?\" Those who were coming from the city, said:\n\"No one has died in the city.\" The others said: \"For whom then are ye\nwailing and lamenting?\" At length they perceived that all this tumult\narose from their trusting the words of children.\n\nThis last belongs rather to the class of simpleton-stories; and in the\nfollowing, from the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles' _Folk Tales of Kashmir_\n(Truebner: 1888), we have a variant of the well-known tale of the twelve\nmen of Gotham who went one day to fish, and, before returning home,\nmiscounted their number, of which several analogues are given in my\n_Book of Noodles_, pp. 28 ff. (Elliot Stock: 1888): Ten peasants were\nstanding on the side of the road weeping. They thought that one of their\nnumber had been lost on the way, as each man had counted the company,\nand found them nine only. \"Ho! you--what's the matter?\" shouted a\ntownsman passing by. \"O sir,\" said the peasants, \"we were ten men when\nwe left the village, but now we are only nine.\" The townsman saw at a\nglance what fools they were: each of them had omitted to count himself\nin the number. He therefore told them to take off their _topis_\n(skull-caps) and place them on the ground. This they did, and counted\nten of them, whereupon they concluded they were all there, and were\ncomforted. But they could not tell how it was.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat wakefulness is not necessarily watchfulness may seem paradoxical,\nyet here is a Persian story which goes far to show that they are not\nalways synonymous terms: Once upon a time (to commence in the good old\nway) there came into a city a merchant on horseback, attended by his\nservant on foot. Hearing that the city was infested by many bold and\nexpert thieves, in consequence of which property was very insecure, he\nsaid to his servant at night: \"I will keep watch, and do you sleep; for\nI cannot trust you to keep awake, and I much fear that my horse may be\nstolen.\" But to this arrangement his faithful servant would not consent,\nand he insisted upon watching all night. So the master went to sleep,\nand three hours after awoke, when he called to his servant: \"What are\nyou doing?\" He answered: \"I am meditating how Allah has spread the earth\nupon the water.\" The master said: \"I am afraid lest thieves come, and\nyou know nothing of it.\" \"O my lord, be satisfied; I am on the watch.\"\nThe merchant again went to sleep, and awaking about midnight cried: \"Ho!\nwhat are you doing?\" The servant replied: \"I am considering how Allah\nhas supported the sky without pillars.\" Quoth the master: \"But I am\nafraid that while you are busy meditating thieves will carry off my\nhorse.\" \"Be not afraid, master, I am fully awake; how, then, can thieves\ncome?\" The master replied: \"If you wish to sleep, I will keep watch.\"\nBut the servant would not hear of this; he was not at all sleepy; so his\nmaster addressed himself once more to slumber; and when one hour of the\nnight yet remained he awoke, and as usual asked him what he was doing,\nto which he coolly answered: \"I am considering, since the thieves have\nstolen the horse, whether I shall carry the saddle on my head, or you,\nsir.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSomewhat akin to the familiar \"story\" of the man whose eyesight was so\nextraordinary that he could, standing in the street, perceive a fly on\nthe dome of St. Paul's is the tale of the Three Dervishes who,\ntravelling in company, came to the sea-shore of Syria, and desired the\ncaptain of a vessel about to sail for Cyprus to give them a passage. The\ncaptain was willing to take them \"for a consideration\"; but they told\nhim they were dervishes, and therefore without money, but they possessed\ncertain wonderful gifts, which might be of use to him on the voyage. The\nfirst dervish said that he could descry any object at the distance of a\nyear's journey; the second could hear at as great a distance as his\nbrother could see. \"Well!\" exclaimed the captain, \"these are truly\nmiraculous gifts; and pray, sir,\" said he, turning to the third dervish,\n\"what may _your_ particular gift be?\" \"I, sir,\" replied he, \"am an\nunbeliever.\" When the captain heard this, he said he could not take such\na person on board of his ship; but on the others declaring they must all\nthree go together or remain behind, he at length consented to allow the\nthird dervish a passage with the two highly-gifted ones. In the course\nof the voyage, it happened one fine day that the captain and the three\ndervishes were on deck conversing, when suddenly the first dervish\nexclaimed: \"Look, look!--see, there--the daughter of the sultan of India\nsitting at the window of her palace, working embroidery.\" \"A mischief on\nyour eyes!\" cried the second dervish, \"for her needle has this moment\ndropped from her hand, and I hear it sound upon the pavement below her\nwindow.\" \"Sir,\" said the third dervish, addressing the captain, \"shall\nI, or shall I not, be an unbeliever?\" Quoth the captain: \"Come, friend,\ncome with me into my cabin, and let us cultivate unbelief together!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA very droll parrot story occurs--where, indeed, we should least expect\nto meet with such a thing--in the _Masnavi_ of Jelalu-'d-Din er-Rumi\n(13th century), a grand mystical poem, or rather series of poems, in six\nbooks, written in Persian rhymed couplets, as the title indicates. In\nthe second poem of the First Book we read that an oilman possessed a\nfine parrot, who amused him with her prattle and watched his shop during\nhis absence. It chanced one day, when the oilman had gone out, that a\ncat ran into the shop in chase of a mouse, which so frightened the\nparrot that she flew about from shelf to shelf, upsetting several jars\nand spilling their contents. When her master returned and saw the havoc\nmade among his goods he fetched the parrot a blow that knocked out all\nher head feathers, and from that day she sulked on her perch. The\noilman, missing the prattle of his favourite, began to shower his alms\non every passing beggar, in hopes that some one would induce the parrot\nto speak again. At length a bald-headed mendicant came to the shop one\nday, upon seeing whom, the parrot, breaking her long silence, cried out:\n\"Poor fellow! poor fellow! hast thou, too, upset some oil-jar?\"[39]\n\n   [39] This tale is found in the early Italian novelists,\n        slightly varied, and it was doubtless introduced by\n        Venetian merchants from the Levant: A parrot belonging\n        to Count Fiesco was discovered one day stealing some\n        roast meat from the kitchen. The enraged cook,\n        overtaking him, threw a kettle of boiling water at him,\n        which completely scalded all the feathers from his head,\n        and left the poor bird with a bare poll. Some time\n        afterwards, as Count Fiesco was engaged in conversation\n        with an abbot, the parrot, observing the shaven crown of\n        his reverence, hopped up to him and said: \"What! do\n        _you_ like roast meat too?\"\n\n        In another form the story is orally current in the North\n        of England. Dr. Fryer tells it to this effect, in his\n        charming _English Fairy Tales from the North Country_: A\n        grocer kept a parrot that used to cry out to the\n        customers that the sugar was sanded and the butter mixed\n        with lard. For this the bird had her neck wrung and was\n        thrown upon an ash-heap; but reviving and seeing a dead\n        cat beside her she cried: \"Poor Puss! have you, too,\n        suffered for telling the truth?\"\n\n        There is yet another variant of this droll tale, which\n        has been popular for generations throughout England, and\n        was quite recently reproduced in an American journal as\n        a genuine \"nigger\" story: In olden times there was a\n        roguish baker who made many of his loaves less than the\n        regulation weight, and one day, on observing the\n        government inspector coming along the street, he\n        concealed the light loaves in a closet. The inspector\n        having found the bread on the counter of the proper\n        weight, was about to leave, when a parrot, which the\n        baker kept in his shop, cried out: \"Light bread in the\n        closet!\" This caused a search to be made, and the baker\n        was heavily fined. Full of fury, the baker seized the\n        parrot, wrung its neck, and threw it in his back yard,\n        near the carcase of a pig that had died of the measles.\n        The parrot, coming to itself again, observed the dead\n        porker and inquired in a tone of sympathy: \"O poor\n        piggy, didst thou, too, tell about light bread in the\n        closet?\"\n\nSomewhat more credible is the tale of the man who taught a parrot to\nsay, \"What doubt is there of this?\" (_dur in cheh shuk_) and took it to\nmarket for sale, fixing the price at a hundred rupis. A Moghul asked the\nbird: \"Are you really worth a hundred rupis?\" to which the bird answered\nvery readily: \"What doubt is there of this?\" Delighted with the apt\nreply, he bought the parrot and took it home; but he soon found that,\nwhatever he might say, the bird always made the same answer, so he\nrepented his purchase and exclaimed: \"I was certainly a great fool to\nbuy this bird!\" The parrot said: \"What doubt is there of this?\" The\nMoghul smiled, and gave the bird her liberty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSir John Malcolm cites a good example of the ready wit of the citizens\nof Isfahan, in his entertaining _Sketches of Persia_, as follows: When\nthe celebrated Haji Ibrahim was prime minister of Persia [some sixty\nyears since], his brother was governor of Isfahan, while other members\nof his family held several of the first offices of the kingdom. A\nshop-keeper one day went to the governor to represent that he was unable\nto pay certain taxes. \"You must pay them,\" replied the governor, \"or\nleave the city.\" \"Where can I go to?\" asked the Isfahani. \"To Shiraz or\nKashan.\" \"Your nephew rules in one city and your brother in the other.\"\n\"Go to the Shah, and complain if you like.\" \"Your brother the Haji is\nprime minister.\" \"Then go to Satan,\" said the enraged governor. \"Haji\nMerhum, your father, the pious pilgrim, is dead,\" rejoined the undaunted\nIsfahani. \"My friend,\" said the governor, bursting into laughter, \"I\nwill pay your taxes, even myself, since you declare that my family keep\nyou from all redress, both in this world and the next.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Hebrew Rabbis who compiled the Talmud were, some of them, witty as\nwell as wise--indeed I have always held that wisdom and wit are cousins\ngerman, if not full brothers--and our specimens of Oriental Wit and\nHumour may be fittingly concluded with a few Jewish jests from a scarce\nlittle book, entitled, _Hebrew Tales_, by Hyman Hurwitz: An Athenian,\nwalking about in the streets of Jerusalem one day, called to a little\nHebrew boy, and, giving him a _pruta_ (a small coin of less value than a\nfarthing), said: \"Here is a pruta, my lad, bring me something for it, of\nwhich I may eat enough, leave some for my host, and carry some home to\nmy family.\" The boy went, and presently returned with a quantity of\nsalt, which he handed to the jester. \"Salt!\" he exclaimed, \"I did not\nask thee to buy me salt.\" \"True,\" said the urchin; \"but didst thou not\ntell me to bring thee something of which thou mightest eat, leave, and\ntake home? Of this salt there is surely enough for all three\npurposes.\"[40]\n\n   [40] In the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles' _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_ a\n        merchant gives his stupid son a small coin with which he\n        is to purchase something to eat, something to drink,\n        something to gnaw, something to sow in the garden, and\n        some food for the cow. A clever young girl advises him\n        to buy a water-melon, which would answer all the\n        purposes required.--P. 145.\n\nAnother Athenian desired a boy to buy him some cheese and eggs. Having\ndone so, \"Now, my lad,\" said the stranger, \"tell me which of these\ncheese were made of the milk of white goats and which of black goats?\"\nThe little Hebrew answered: \"Since thou art older than I, and more\nexperienced, first do thou tell me which of these eggs came from white\nand which from black hens.\"\n\nOnce more did a Hebrew urchin prove his superiority in wit over an\nAthenian: \"Here, boy,\" said he, \"here is some money; bring us some figs\nand grapes.\" The lad went and bought the fruit, kept half of it for\nhimself, and gave the other half to the Athenian. \"How!\" cried the man,\n\"is it the custom of this city for a messenger to take half of what he\nis sent to purchase?\" \"No,\" replied the boy; \"but it is our custom to\nspeak what we mean, and to do what we are desired.\" \"Well, then, I did\nnot desire thee to take half of the fruit.\" \"Why, what else could you\nmean,\" rejoined the little casuist, \"by saying, 'Bring _us_?' Does not\nthat word include the hearer as well as the speaker?\" The stranger, not\nknowing how to answer such reasoning, smiled and went his way, leaving\nthe shrewd lad to eat his share of the fruit in peace.\n\n\"There is no rule without some exception,\" as the following tale\ndemonstrates: Rabbi Eliezar, who was as much distinguished by his\ngreatness of mind as by the extraordinary size of his body, once paid a\nfriendly visit to Rabbi Simon. The learned Simon received him most\ncordially, and filling a cup with wine handed it to him. Eliezar took it\nand drank it off at a draught. Another was poured out--it shared the\nsame fate. \"Brother Eliezar,\" said Simon, jestingly, \"rememberest thou\nnot what the wise men have said on this subject?\" \"I well remember,\"\nreplied his corpulent friend, \"the saying of our instructors, that\npeople ought not to take a cup at one draught. But the wise men have not\nso defined their rule as to admit of no exception; and in this instance\nthere are not less than three--the _cup_ is small, the _receiver_ is\nlarge, and your WINE, brother Simon, is DELICIOUS!\"\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF A PARROT.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nGENERAL PLAN OF EASTERN ROMANCES--THE \"TUTI NAMA,\" OR PARROT-BOOK--THE\nFRAME-STORY--TALES: THE STOLEN IMAGES--THE WOMAN CARVED OUT OF WOOD--THE\nMAN WHOSE MARE WAS KICKED BY A MERCHANT'S HORSE.\n\n\nOriental romances are usually constructed on the plan of a number of\ntales connected by a general or leading story running throughout, like\nthe slender thread that holds a necklace of pearls together--a familiar\nexample of which is the _Book of the Thousand and One Nights_, commonly\nknown amongst us under the title of _Arabian Nights Entertainments_. In\nsome the subordinate tales are represented as being told by one or more\nindividuals to serve a particular object, by the moral, or warning,\nwhich they are supposed to convey; as in the case of the _Book of\nSindibad_, in which a prince is falsely accused by one of his father's\nladies, and defended by the king's seven vazirs, or counsellors, who\neach in turn relate to the king two stories, the purport of which being\nto warn him to put no faith in the accusations of women, to which the\nlady replies by stories representing the wickedness and perfidy of men;\nand that of the _Bakhtyar Nama_, in which a youth, falsely accused of\nhaving violated the royal harem, obtains for himself a respite from\ndeath during ten days by relating to the king each day a story designed\nto caution him against precipitation in matters of importance. In others\nsupernatural beings are the narrators of the subordinate tales, as in\nthe Indian romances, _Vetala Panchavinsati_, or Twenty-five Tales of a\nDemon, and the _Sinhasana Dwatrinsati_, or Tales of the Thirty-two\nSpeaking Statues--literally, Thirty-two (Tales) of a Throne. In others,\nagain, the relators are birds, as in the Indian work entitled _Hamsa\nVinsati_, or Twenty Tales of a Goose.\n\nOf this last class is the popular Persian work, _Tuti Nama_, (Tales of a\nParrot, or Parrot-Book), of which I purpose furnishing some account, as\nit has not yet been completely translated into English. This work was\ncomposed, according to Pertsch, in A.D. 1329, by a Persian named\nNakhshabi, after an older Persian version, now lost, which was made from\na Sanskrit work, also no longer extant, but of which the modern\nrepresentative is the _Suka Saptati_, or Seventy Tales of a Parrot.[41]\nThe frame, or leading story, of the Persian Parrot-Book is to the\nfollowing effect:\n\n   [41] Ziyau-'d-Din Nakhshabi, so called from Nakhshab, or\n        Nasaf, the modern Kashi, a town situated between\n        Samarkand and the Oxus, led a secluded life in Bada'um,\n        and died, as stated by 'Abdal-Hakk, A.H. 751 (A.D.\n        1350-1).--Dr. Rieu's _Catalogue of Persian MSS. in the\n        British Museum_.--In 1792 the Rev. B. Gerrans published\n        an English translation of twelve of the fifty-two tales\n        comprised in the _Tuti Nama_, but the work is now best\n        known in Persia and India from an abridgment made by\n        Kadiri in the last century, which was printed, with a\n        translation, at London in 1801.\n\nA merchant who had a very beautiful wife informs her one day that he has\nresolved to travel into foreign countries in order to increase his\nwealth by trade. His wife endeavours to persuade him to remain at home\nin peace and security instead of imperiling his life among strangers.\nBut he expatiates on the evils of poverty and the advantages of wealth:\n\"A man without riches is fatherless, and a home without money is\ndeserted. He that is in want of cash is a nonentity, and wanders in the\nland unknown. It is, therefore, everybody's duty to procure as much\nmoney as possible; for gold is the delight of our lives--it is the\nbright live-coal of our hearts--the yellow links which fasten the coat\nof mail--the gentle stimulative of the world--the complete coining die\nof the globe--the traveller who speaks all languages, and is welcome in\nevery city--the splendid bride unveiled--the defender, register, and\nmirror of jehandars. The man who has dirhams [_Scottice_,\n'siller'--_Fr._ 'l'argent'] is handsome; the sun never shines on the\ninauspicious man without money.\"[42] Before leaving home the merchant\npurchased at great cost in the bazaar a wonderful parrot, that could\ndiscourse eloquently and intelligently, and also a sharak, a species of\nnightingale, which, according to Gerrans, \"imitates the human voice in\nso surprising a manner that, if you do not see the bird, you cannot help\nbeing deceived\"; and, having put them into the same cage, he charged his\nspouse that whenever she had any matter of importance to transact she\nshould first obtain the sanction of both birds.\n\n   [42] \"He that has money in the scales,\" says Saadi, \"has\n        strength in his arms, and he who has not the command of\n        money is destitute of friends in the world.\"--Hundreds\n        of similar sarcastic observations on the power of wealth\n        might be cited from the Hindu writers, such as: \"He who\n        has riches has friends; he who has riches has relations;\n        he who has riches _is even a sage_!\" The following\n        verses in praise of money are, I think, worth\n        reproducing, if only for their whimsical arrangement:\n\n                             Honey,\n                           Our Money\n                        We find in the end\n                     Both relation and friend;\n               'Tis a helpmate for better, for worse.\n                   Neither father nor mother,\n                     Nor sister nor brother,\n                       Nor uncles nor aunts,\n                           Nor dozens\n                           Of cousins,\n                 Are like a friend in the purse.\n                 Still regard the main chance;\n                          'Tis the clink\n                          Of the chink\n               Is the music to make the heart dance.\n\n\nThe merchant having protracted his absence many months (Vatsyayana, in\nhis _Kama Sutra_, says that the man who is given to much travelling does\nnot deserve to be married), and, his wife chancing to be on the roof of\nher house one day when a young foreign prince of handsome appearance\npassed by with his attendants, she immediately fell in love with\nhim--\"the battle-axe of prudence dropped from her hand; the vessel of\ncontinence became a sport to the waves of confusion; while the avenues\nleading to the fortress of reason remained unguarded, the sugar-cane of\nincontinence triumphantly raised its head above the rose-tree of\npatience.\" The prince had also observed the lady, as she stood on the\nterrace of her house, and was instantly enamoured of her. He sends an\nold woman (always the obliging--\"for a consideration\"--go-between of\nEastern lovers) to solicit an interview with the lady at his own palace\nin the evening, and, after much persuasion, she consents. Arraying her\nbeauteous person in the finest apparel, she proceeds to the cage, and\nfirst consults the sharak as to the propriety of her purpose. The sharak\nforbids her to go, and is at once rewarded by having her head wrung off.\nShe then represents her case to the parrot, who, having witnessed the\nfate of his companion, prudently resolves to temporise with the amorous\ndame; so he \"quenched the fire of her indignation with the water of\nflattery, and began a tale conformable to her temperament, which he took\ncare to protract till the morning.\" In this manner does the prudent\nparrot prevent the lady's intended intrigue by relating, night after\nnight, till the merchant returns home from his travels, one or more\nfascinating tales, which he does not bring to an end till it is too late\nfor the assignation.[43]\n\n   [43] In a Telugu MS., entitled _Patti Vrutti Mahima_ (the\n        Value of Chaste Wives), the minister of Chandra Pratapa\n        assumes the form of a bird owing to a curse pronounced\n        against him by Siva, and is sold to a merchant named\n        Dhanadatta, whose son, Kuveradatta, is vicious. The bird\n        by moral lessons reformed him for a time. They went to a\n        town called Pushpamayuri, where the king's son saw the\n        wife of Kuveradatta when he was absent from home. An\n        illicit amour was about to begin, when the bird\n        interposed by relating tales of chaste wives, and\n        detained the wanton lady at home till her husband\n        returned.\n\nThe order of the parrot's tales is not the same in all texts; in\nKadiri's abridgment there are few of the Nights which correspond with\nthose of the India Office MS. No. 2573, which may, perhaps, be partly\naccounted for by the circumstance that Kadiri has given only 35 of the\n52 tales that are in the original text. For the general reader, however,\nthe sequence of the tales is a minor consideration; and I shall content\nmyself with giving abstracts of some of the best stories, irrespective\nof their order in any text, and complete translations of two or three\nothers. It so happens that the Third Night is the same in Kadiri and the\nIndia Office MS. No. 2573, which comprises the complete text; and the\nstory the eloquent bird relates on that night may be entitled\n\n\n_The Stolen Images._\n\nA goldsmith and a carpenter, travelling in company, steal from a Hindu\ntemple some golden images, which, when they arrive in the neighbourhood\nof their own city, they bury beneath a tree. The goldsmith goes secretly\none night and carries away the images, and next morning, when both go\ntogether to share the spoil, the goldsmith accuses the carpenter of\nhaving played him false. But the carpenter was a shrewd fellow, and so\nhe makes a figure resembling the goldsmith, dresses it in clothes\nsimilar to what he usually wore, and procures a couple of bear's cubs,\nwhich he teaches to take their food from the skirts and sleeves of the\neffigy. Thus the cubs conceived a great affection for the figure of the\ngoldsmith. He then contrives to steal the goldsmith's two sons, and,\nwhen the father comes to seek them at his house, he pretends they have\nbeen changed into young bears. The goldsmith brings his case before the\nkazi; the cubs are brought into court, and no sooner do they discover\nthe goldsmith than they run up and fondle him. Upon this the judge\ndecides in favour of the carpenter, to whom the goldsmith confesses his\nguilt, and offers to give up all the gold if he restore his children,\nwhich he does accordingly.[44]\n\n   [44] Many Asiatic stories relate to the concealing of\n        treasure--generally at the foot of a tree, to mark the\n        spot--by two or more companions, and its being secretly\n        stolen by one of them. The device of the carpenter in\n        the foregoing tale of abducting the rascally goldsmith's\n        two sons, and so on, finds an analogue in the\n        _Panchatantra_, the celebrated Sanskrit collection of\n        fables (Book I, Fab. 21, of Benfey's German\n        translation), where we read that a young man, who had\n        spent the wealth left to him by his father, had only a\n        heavy iron balance remaining of all his possessions, and\n        depositing it with a merchant went to another country.\n        When he returned, after some time, he went to the\n        merchant and demanded back his balance. The merchant\n        told him it had been eaten by rats; adding: \"The iron of\n        which it was composed was particularly sweet, and so the\n        rats ate it.\" The young man, knowing that the merchant\n        spoke falsely, formed a plan for the recovery of his\n        balance. One day he took the merchant's young son,\n        unknown to his father, to bathe, and left him in the\n        care of a friend. When the merchant missed his son he\n        accused the young man of having stolen him, and summoned\n        him to appear in the king's judgment-hall. In answer to\n        the merchant's accusation, the young man asserted that a\n        kite had carried away the boy; and when the officers of\n        the court declared this to be impossible, he said: \"In a\n        country where an iron balance was eaten by rats, a kite\n        might well carry off an elephant, much more a boy.\" The\n        merchant, having lost his cause, returned the balance to\n        the young man and received back his boy.\n\nThe Sixth Tale of the Parrot, according to the India Office MS., relates\nto\n\n\n_The Woman Carved out of Wood._\n\nFour men--a goldsmith, a carpenter, a tailor, and a dervish--travelling\ntogether, one night halted in a desert place, and it was agreed they\nshould watch turn about until daybreak. The carpenter takes the first\nwatch, and to amuse himself he carves the figure of a woman out of a log\nof wood. When it came to the goldsmith's turn to watch, finding the\nbeautiful female figure, he resolved also to exhibit his art, and\naccordingly made a set of ornaments of gold and silver, which he placed\non the neck, arms, and ankles. During the third watch the tailor made a\nsuit of clothes becoming a bride, and put them on the figure. Lastly,\nthe dervish, when it came to his turn to watch, beholding the\ncaptivating female form, prayed that it might be endowed with life, and\nimmediately the effigy became animated. In the morning all four fell in\nlove with the charming damsel, each claiming her for himself; the\ncarpenter, because he had carved her with his own hands; the goldsmith,\nbecause he had adorned her with gems; the tailor, because he had\nsuitably clothed her; and the dervish, because he had, by his\nintercession, endowed her with life. While they were thus disputing, a\nman came to the spot, to whom they referred the case. On seeing the\nwoman, he exclaimed: \"This is my own wife, whom you have stolen from\nme,\" and compelled them to come before the kutwal, who, on viewing her\nbeauty, in his turn claimed her as the wife of his brother, who had been\nwaylaid and murdered in the desert. The kutwal took them all, with the\nwoman, before the kazi, who declared that she was his slave, who had\nabsconded from his house with a large sum of money. An old man who was\npresent suggested that they should all seven appeal to the Tree of\nDecision, and thither they went accordingly; but no sooner had they\nstated their several claims than the trunk of the tree split open, the\nwoman ran into the cleft, and on its reuniting she was no more to be\nseen. A voice proceeded from the tree, saying: \"Everything returns to\nits first principles\"; and the seven suitors of the woman were\noverwhelmed with shame.[45]\n\n   [45] So, too, Boethius, in his _De Consolatione Philosophiae_,\n        says, according to Chaucer's translation: \"All thynges\n        seken ayen to hir [i.e. their] propre course, and all\n        thynges rejoysen on hir retournynge agayne to hir\n        nature.\"--A tale current in Oude, and given in _Indian\n        Notes and Queries_ for Sept. 1887, is an illustration of\n        the maxim that \"everything returns to its first\n        principles\": A certain prince chose his friends out of\n        the lowest class, and naturally imbibed their principles\n        and habits. When the death of his father placed him on\n        the throne, he soon made his former associates his\n        courtiers, and exacted the most servile homage from the\n        nobles. The old vazir, however, despised the young king\n        and would render none. This so exasperated him that he\n        called his counsellors together to advise the most\n        excruciating of tortures for the old man. Said one: \"Let\n        him be flayed alive and let shoes be made of his skin.\"\n        The vazir ejaculated on this but one word, \"Origin.\"\n        Said the next: \"Let him be hacked into pieces and his\n        limbs cast to the dogs.\" The vazir said, \"Origin.\"\n        Another advised: \"Let him be forthwith executed, and his\n        house be levelled to the ground.\" Once more the vazir\n        simply said, \"Origin.\" Then the king turned to the rest,\n        who declared each according to his opinion, the vazir\n        noticing each with the same word. At last a young man,\n        who had not spoken hitherto, was asked. \"May it please\n        your Majesty,\" said he, \"if you ask my opinion, it is\n        this: Here is an aged man, and honourable from his\n        years, family, and position; moreover, he served in the\n        king your father's court, and nursed you as a boy. It\n        were well, considering all these matters, to pay him\n        respect, and render his old age comfortable.\" Again the\n        vazir uttered the word \"Origin.\" The king now demanded\n        what he meant by it. \"Simply this, your Majesty,\"\n        responded the vazir: \"You have here the sons of\n        shoemakers, butchers, executioners, and so forth, and\n        each has expressed himself according to his father's\n        trade. There is but one noble-born among them, and he\n        has made himself conspicuous by speaking according to\n        the manner of his race.\" The king was ashamed, and\n        released the vazir.--A parallel to this is found in the\n        Turkish _Qirq Vezir Tarikhi_, or History of the Forty\n        Vezirs (Lady's 4th Story): according to Mr. Gibb's\n        translation, \"All things return to their origin.\"\n\nI am strongly of opinion that the foregoing story is of Buddhistic\nextraction; but however this may be, it is not a bad specimen of Eastern\nhumour, nor is the following, which the eloquent bird tells the lady\nanother night:\n\n\n_Of the Man whose Mare was kicked by a Merchant's Horse._\n\nA merchant had a vicious horse that kicked a mare, which he had warned\nthe owner not to tie near his animal. The man carried the merchant\nbefore the kazi, and stated his complaint. The kazi inquired of the\nmerchant what he had to say in his own defence; but he pretended to be\ndumb, answering not a word to the judge's interrogatives. Upon this the\nkazi remarked to the plaintiff that since the merchant was dumb he could\nnot be to blame for the accident. \"How do you know he is dumb?\" said the\nowner of the mare. \"At the time I wished to fasten my mare near his\nhorse he said, 'Don't!' yet now he feigns himself dumb.\" The kazi\nobserved that if he was duly warned against the accident he had himself\nto blame, and so dismissed the case.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE EMPEROR'S DREAM--THE GOLDEN APPARITION--THE FOUR TREASURE-SEEKERS.\n\n\nWe are not without instances in European popular fictions of two young\npersons dreaming of each other and falling in love, although they had\nnever met or known of each other's existence. A notable example is the\nstory of the Two Dreams in the famous _History of the Seven Wise\nMasters_. Incidents of this kind are very common in Oriental stories:\nthe romance of _Kamarupa_ (of Indian origin, but now chiefly known\nthrough the Persian version) is based upon a dream which the hero has of\na certain beautiful princess, with whom he falls in love, and he sets\nforth with his companions to find her, should it be at the uttermost\nends of the earth. It so happens that the damsel also dreams of him,\nand, when they do meet, they need no introduction to each other. The\nIndian romance of _Vasayadatta_ has a similar plot. But the royal\ndreamer and lover in the following story, told by the Parrot on the 39th\nNight, according to the India Office MS. No. 2573, adopted a plan for\nthe discovery of the beauteous object of his vision more conformable to\nhis own ease:\n\n\n_The Emperor's Dream._\n\nAn emperor of China dreamt of a very beautiful damsel whom he had never\nseen or heard of, and, being sorely pierced with the darts of love for\nthe creature of his dreaming fancy, he could find no peace of mind. One\nof his vazirs, who was an excellent portrait painter, receiving from the\nemperor a minute description of the lady's features, drew the face, and\nthe imperial lover acknowledged the likeness to be very exact. The vazir\nthen went abroad with the portrait, to see whether any one could\nidentify it with the fair original. After many disappointments he met\nwith an old hermit, who at once recognised it as the portrait of the\nprincess of Rum,[46] who, he informed the vazir, had an unconquerable\naversion against men ever since she beheld, in her garden, a peacock\nbasely desert his mate and their young ones, when the tree on which\ntheir nest was built had been struck by lightning. She believed that all\nmen were quite as selfish as that peacock, and was resolved never to\nmarry. Returning to his imperial master with these most interesting\nparticulars regarding the object of his affection, he next undertakes to\nconquer the strange and unnatural aversion of the princess. Taking with\nhim the emperor's portrait and other pictures, he procures access to the\nprincess of Rum; shows her, first, the portrait of the emperor of China,\nand then pictures of animals in the royal menagerie, among others that\nof a deer, concerning which he relates a story to the effect that the\nemperor, sitting one day in his summer-house, saw a deer, his doe, and\ntheir fawn on the bank of the river, when suddenly the waters overflowed\nthe banks, and the doe, in terror for her life, fled away, while the\ndeer bravely remained with the fawn and was drowned. This story, so\nclosely resembling her own, struck the fair princess with wonder and\nadmiration, and she at once gave her consent to be united to the emperor\nof China; and we may suppose that \"they continued together in joy and\nhappiness until they were overtaken by the terminater of delights and\nthe separator of companions.\"\n\n   [46] Originally, Rumelia (Rum Eyli) was only implied by the\n        word _Rum_, but in course of time it was employed to\n        designate the whole Turkish empire.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere can be little or no doubt, I think, that in this tale we find the\noriginal of the frame, or leading story, of the Persian Tales, ascribed\nto a dervish named Mukhlis, of Isfahan, and written after the _Arabian\nNights_, as it is believed, in which the nurse of the Princess has to\nrelate almost as many stories to overcome her aversion against men (the\nresult of an incident similar to that witnessed by the Lady of Rum) as\nthe renowned Sheherazade had to tell her lord, who entertained--for a\nvery different reason--a bitter dislike of women.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI now present a story unabridged, translated by Gerrans in the latter\npart of the last century. It is assuredly of Buddhistic origin:\n\n\n_The Golden Apparition._\n\nIn the extreme boundaries of Khurasan there once lived, according to\ngeneral report, a merchant named Abdal-Malik, whose warehouses were\ncrowded with rich merchandise, and whose coffers overflowed with money.\nThe scions of genius ripened into maturity under the sunshine of his\nliberality; the sons of indigence fattened on the bread of his\nhospitality; and the parched traveller amply slaked his thirst in the\nriver of his generosity. One day, as he meditated on the favours which\nhis Creator had so luxuriantly showered upon him, he testified his\ngratitude by the following resolution: \"Long have I traded in the\ntheatre of the world, much have I received, and little have I bestowed.\nThis wealth was entrusted to my care, with no other design or intention\nbut to enable me to assist the unfortunate and indigent. Before,\ntherefore, the Angel of Death shall come to demand the spoil of my\nmortality, it is my last wish and sole intention to expiate my sins and\nfollies by voluntary oblations of this she-camel [alluding to the Muslim\nFeast of the Camel] in the last month of her pregnancy, and to proclaim\nto all men, by this late breakfasting [alluding to the Feast of Ramadan,\nwhen food is only permitted after sunset], my past mortification.\"\n\nIn the tranquil hour of midnight an apparition stood before him, in the\nhabit of a fakir. The merchant cried: \"What art thou?\" It answered: \"I\nam the apparition of thy good fortune and the genius of thy future\nhappiness. When thou, with such unbounded generosity, didst bequeath all\nthy wealth to the poor, I determined not to pass by thy door unnoticed,\nbut to endow thee with an inexhaustible treasure, conformable to the\ngreatness of thy capacious soul. To accomplish which I will, every\nmorning, in this shape, appear to thee; thou shalt strike me a few blows\non the head, when I shall instantly fall low at thy feet, transformed\ninto an image of gold. From this freely take as much as thou shalt have\noccasion for; and every member or joint that shall be separated from the\nimage shall be instantly replaced by another of the same precious\nmetal.\"[47]\n\n   [47] If the members severed from the golden image were to be\n        instantly replaced by others, what need was there for\n        the daily appearance of the \"fakir,\" as promised?--But\n        _n'importe_!\n\nAt daybreak the demon of avarice had conducted Hajm, the covetous, to\nthe durbar of Abdal-Malik, the generous. Soon after his arrival the\napparition presented itself. Abdal-Malik immediately arose, and after\nstriking it several blows on the head it fell down before him, and was\nchanged into an image of gold. As much as sufficed for the necessities\nof the day he took for himself, and gave a much larger portion to his\nvisitor. Hajm was overjoyed at the present, and concluded from what he\nhad seen that he or any other person who should treat a fakir in the\nsame manner could convert him into gold, and consequently that by\nbeating a number he might multiply his golden images. Heated with this\nfond imagination, he quickly returned to his house and gave the\nnecessary orders for a most sumptuous entertainment, to which he invited\nall the fakirs in the province.\n\nWhen the keen appetite was assuaged, and the exhilarating sherbet began\nto enliven the convivial meeting, Hajm seized a ponderous club, and with\nit regaled his guests till he broke their heads, and the crimson torrent\nstained the carpet of hospitality. The fakirs elevating the shriek of\nsore distress, the kutwal's guard came to their assistance, and soon a\nmultitude of people assembled, who, after binding the offender with the\nstrong cord of captivity, carried him, together with the fakirs, before\nthe governor of the city. He demanded to know the reason why he had so\ninhospitably and cruelly behaved to these harmless people. The\nconfounded Hajm replied: \"As I was yesterday in the house of\nAbdal-Malik, a fakir suddenly appeared. The merchant struck him some\nblows on the head, and he fell prostrate before him, transformed into a\ngolden image. Imagining that any other person could, by a similar\nbehaviour, force any fakir to undergo the like metamorphosis, I invited\nthese men to a banquet, and regaled them with some blows of my cudgel to\ncompel them to a similar transformation; but the demon of avarice has\ndeceived me, and the fascinating temptation of gold has involved me in a\nlabyrinth of ills.\"\n\nThe governor at once sent for Abdal-Malik, and, demanding a solution of\nHajm's mysterious tale, was thus answered by the charitable merchant:\n\"The unfortunate Hajm is my neighbour. Some days ago he began to exhibit\nsymptoms of a disordered imagination and distracted brain, and during\nthese violent paroxysms of insanity he related some ridiculous fable of\nme and the rest of my neighbours. No better specimen can be adduced than\nthe extravagant action of which he now stands accused, and the absurd\ntale by which he attempts to apologise for the commission of it. That\nmadness may no longer usurp the palace of reason, to revel upon the\nruins of his mind, deliver him to the sons of ingenuity, the preservers\nand restorers of health; let them purify his blood by sparing diet,\nabridge him of his daily potations, and by the force of medicinal\nbeverage recall him from the precipice of ruin.\" This advice was warmly\napplauded by the governor, who, after Hajm had been compelled to ask\npardon of the fakirs for the ill-treatment they had received, was\nsoundly bastinadoed before the tribunal, and carried to the hospital for\nmadness.\n\nThat each man has his \"genius\" of good or evil fortune is an essentially\nBuddhistic idea. The same story occurs, in a different form, in the\n_Hitopadesa_, or Friendly Counsel, an ancient Sanskrit collection of\napologues, and an abridgment of the _Panchatantra_, or Five Chapters,\nwhere it forms Fable 10 of Book III: In the city of Ayodhya (Oude) there\nwas a soldier named Churamani, who, being anxious for money, for a long\ntime with pain of body worshipped the deity, the jewel of whose diadem\nis the lunar crescent. Being at length purified from his sins, in his\nsleep he had a vision in which, through the favour of the deity, he was\ndirected by the lord of the Yakshas [Kuvera, the god of wealth] to do as\nfollows: \"Early in the morning, having been shaved, thou must stand,\nclub in hand, concealed behind the door of the house; and the beggar\nwhom thou seest come into the court thou wilt put to death without mercy\nby blows of thy staff. Instantly the beggar will become a pot full of\ngold, by which thou wilt be comfortable for the rest of thy life.\" These\ninstructions being followed, it came to pass accordingly; but the barber\nwho had been brought to shave him, having witnessed it all, said to\nhimself, \"O is this the mode of gaining a treasure? Why, then, may not I\nalso do the same?\" From that day forward the barber in like manner, with\nclub in hand, day after day awaited the coming of the beggar. One day a\nbeggar being so caught was attacked by him and killed with the stick,\nfor which offence the barber himself was beaten by the king's officers,\nand died.--In the _Panchatantra_, in place of a soldier, a banker who\nhad lost all his wealth determines to put an end to his life, when he\ndreams that the personification of Kuvera, the god of riches, appears\nbefore him in the form of a Jaina mendicant--a conclusive proof of the\nBuddhistic origin of the story.--A trunkless head performs the same part\nin the Russian folk-tale of the Stepmother's Daughter, on which Mr.\nRalston remarks that, \"according to Buddhist belief the treasure which\nhas belonged to anyone in a former existence may come to him in the form\nof a man, who, when killed, is turned to gold.\"[48]\n\n   [48] Ralston's _Russian Folk-Tales_, p. 224, _note_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is an analogous story to this of the Golden Apparition in an\nentertaining little book entitled, _The Orientalist; or, Letters of a\nRabbi_, by James Noble, published at Edinburgh in 1831, of which the\nfollowing is the outline:\n\nAn old Dervish falls ill in the house of a poor widow, who tends him\nwith great care, and when he recovers his health he offers to take\ncharge of her only son, Abdallah. The good woman gladly consents, and\nthe Dervish sets out accompanied by his young ward, having intimated to\nhis mother that they must perform a journey which would last about two\nyears. One day they arrived at a solitary place, and the Dervish said to\nAbdallah: \"My son, we are now at the end of our journey. I shall employ\nmy prayers to obtain from Allah that the earth shall open and make an\nentrance wide enough to permit thee to descend into a place where thou\nshalt find one of the greatest treasures that the earth contains. Hast\nthou courage to descend into the vault?\" Abdallah assured him that he\nmight depend on his fidelity; and then the Dervish lighted a small fire,\ninto which he cast a perfume: he read and prayed for some minutes, after\nwhich the earth opened, and he said to the young man: \"Thou mayest now\nenter. Remember that it is in thy power to do me a great service; and\nthat this is perhaps the only opportunity thou shalt ever have of\ntestifying to me that thou art not ungrateful. Do not let thyself be\ndazzled by the riches that thou shalt find there: think only of seizing\nupon an iron candlestick with twelve branches, which thou shalt find\nclose to the door. That is absolutely necessary to me: come up with it\nat once.\" Abdallah descended, and, neglecting the advice of the Dervish,\nfilled his vest and sleeves with the gold and jewels which he found\nheaped up in the vault, whereupon the opening by which he had entered\nclosed of itself. He had, however, sufficient presence of mind to seize\nthe iron candlestick, and endeavoured to find some other means of escape\nfrom the vault. At length he discovers a narrow passage, which he\nfollows until he reaches the surface of the earth, and looking for the\nDervish saw him not, but to his surprise found that he was close to his\nmother's house. On showing his wealth to his mother, it all suddenly\nvanished. But the candlestick remained. He lighted one of the branches,\nupon which a dervish appeared, and after turning round an hour he threw\ndown an asper (about three farthings in value) and vanished. Next night\nhe put a lighted candle in each of the branches, when twelve dervishes\nappeared, and having continued their gyrations for an hour each threw\ndown an asper and vanished. In this way did Abdallah and his mother\ncontrive to live for a time, till at length he resolved to carry the\ncandlestick to the good Dervish, hoping to obtain from him the treasure\nwhich he had seen in the vault. He remembered his name and city, and on\nreaching his dwelling found the Dervish living in a magnificent palace,\nwith fifty porters at the gate. The Dervish thus addressed Abdallah:\n\"Thou art an ungrateful wretch! Hadst thou known the value of the\ncandlestick thou wouldst never have brought it to me. I will show thee\nits true use.\" Then the Dervish placed a light in each branch, whereupon\ntwelve dervishes appeared and began to whirl, but on his giving each a\nblow with a stick, in an instant they were changed into twelve heaps of\nsequins, diamonds, and other precious stones. Ungrateful as Abdallah had\nshown himself, yet the Dervish gave him two camels laden with gold, and\na slave, telling him that he must depart the next morning. During the\nnight Abdallah stole the candlestick and placed it at the bottom of his\nsacks. At daybreak he took leave of the generous Dervish and set off.\nWhen about half a day's journey from his own city he sold the slave,\nthat there should be no witness to his former poverty, and bought\nanother in his stead. Arriving home, he carefully placed his loads of\ntreasure in a private chamber, and then put a light in each branch of\nthe candlestick; and when the twelve dervishes appeared, he dealt each\nof them a blow with a stick. But he had not observed that the good\nDervish employed his left hand, and he had naturally used his right, in\nconsequence of which the twelve dervishes drew each from under their\nrobes a heavy club and beat him till he was nearly dead, and then\nvanished, as did also the treasure, the camels, the slave, and the\nwonder-working candlestick![49]\n\n   [49] The same story is given by the Comte de Caylus--but,\n        like Noble, without stating where the original is to be\n        found--in his _Contes Orientaux_, first published in\n        1745, under the title of \"Histoire de Dervich\n        Abounadar.\" These entertaining tales are reproduced in\n        _Le Cabinet des Fees_, ed. 1786, tome xxv.--It will be\n        observed that the first part of the story bears a close\n        resemblance to that of our childhood's favourite, the\n        Arabian tale of \"Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp,\" of\n        which many analogues and variants, both European and\n        Asiatic, are cited in the first volume of my _Popular\n        Tales and Fictions_, 1887;--see also a supplementary\n        note by me on Aladdin's Lamp in _Notes and Queries_,\n        Jan. 5, 1889, p. 1.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA warning against avarice is intended to be conveyed in the tale, or\nrather apologue, or perhaps we should consider it as a sort of allegory,\nrelated by the sagacious bird on the 47th Night, according to the India\nOffice MS., but the 16th Night of Kadiri's abridgment. It is to the\nfollowing effect, and may be entitled\n\n\n_The Four Treasure-Seekers._\n\nOnce on a time four intimate friends, who made a common fund of all\ntheir possessions, and had long enjoyed the wealth of their industrious\nancestors, at length lost all their goods and money, and, barely saving\ntheir lives, quitted together the place of their nativity. In the course\nof their travels they meet a wise Brahman, to whom they relate the\nhistory of their misfortunes. He gives each of them a pearl, which he\nplaces on their heads, telling them, whenever the pearl drops from the\nhead of any of them, to examine the spot, and share equally what they\nfind there. After walking some distance the pearl drops from the head of\none of the companions, and on examining the place he discovers a copper\nmine, the produce of which he offers to share with the others, but they\nrefuse, and, leaving him, continue their journey. By-and-by the pearl\ndrops from the head of another of the friends, and a silver mine is\nfound; but the two others, believing that better things were in store\nfarther on, left him to his treasure, and proceeded on their way till\nthe pearl of the third companion dropped, and they found in the place a\nrich gold mine. In vain does he endeavour to persuade his companion to\nbe content with the wealth here obtainable: he disdainfully refuses,\nsaying that, since copper, silver, and gold had been found, fortune had\nevidently reserved something infinitely better for him; and so he\nquitted his friend and went on, till he reached a narrow valley\ndestitute of water; the air like that of Jehennan;[50] the surface of\nthe earth like infernal fire; no animal or bird was to be seen; and\nchilling blasts alternated with sulphurous exhalations. Here the fourth\npearl dropped and the owner discovered a mine of diamonds and other\ngems, but the ground was covered with snakes, cockatrices, and the most\nvenomous serpents. On seeing this he determines to return and share the\nproduce of the third companion's gold mine; but when he comes to the\nspot he can find no trace of the mine or of the owner. Proceeding next\nto the silver mine, he finds it is exhausted, and his friend who owned\nit has gone; so he will now content himself with copper; but, alas! his\nfirst friend had died the day before his arrival, and strangers were now\nin possession of the mine, who laughed at his pretensions, and even beat\nhim for his impertinence. Sad at heart, he journeys on to where he and\nhis companions had met the Brahman, but he had long since departed to a\nfar distant country; and thus, through his obstinacy and avarice, he was\noverwhelmed with poverty and disgrace--without money and without\nfriends.\n\n   [50] That is, hell. Properly, it is Je-Hinnon, near\n        Jerusalem, which seems to have been in ancient times the\n        cremation ground for human corpses.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis story of the Four Treasure-seekers forms the third of Book V of the\n_Panchatantra_, where the fourth companion, instead of finding a diamond\nmine guarded by serpents, etc., discovers a man with a wheel upon his\nhead, and on his asking this man where he could procure water, who he\nwas, and why he stood with the wheel on his head, straightway the wheel\nis transferred to his own head, as had been the case of the former\nvictim who had asked the same questions of his predecessor. The third\nman, who had found the gold mine, wondering that his companion tarried\nso long, sets off in search of him, and, finding him with the wheel on\nhis head, asks why he stood thus. The fourth acquaints him of the\nproperty of the wheel, and then relates a number of stories to show that\nthose who want common sense will surely come to grief.\n\nIt is more than probable that several of the tales and apologues in the\n_Panchatantra_ were derived from Buddhist sources; and the incident of a\nman with a wheel on his head is found in the Chinese-Sanskrit work\nentitled _Fu-pen-hing-tsi-king_, which Wassiljew translates 'Biography\nof Sakyamuni and his Companions,' and of which Dr. Beal has published an\nabridged English translation under the title of the _Romantic History of\nBuddha_. In this work (p. 342 ff.) a merchant, who had struck his mother\nbecause she would not sanction his going on a trading voyage, in the\ncourse of his wanderings discovers a man \"on whose head there was placed\nan iron wheel, this wheel was red with heat, and glowing as from a\nfurnace, terrible to behold. Seeing this terrible sight, Maitri\nexclaimed: 'Who are you? Why do you carry that terrible wheel on your\nhead?' On this the wretched man replied: 'Dear sir, is it possible you\nknow me not? I am a merchant chief called Gorinda.' Then Maitri asked\nhim and said: 'Pray, then, tell me, what dreadful crime have you\ncommitted in former days that you are constrained to wear that fiery\nwheel on your head.' Then Gorinda answered: 'In former days I was angry\nwith and struck my mother as she lay on the ground, and for this reason\nI am condemned to wear this fiery iron wheel around my head.' At this\ntime Maitri, self-accused, began to cry out and lament; he was filled\nwith remorse on recollection of his own conduct, and exclaimed in agony:\n'Now am I caught like a deer in the snare.' Then a certain Yaksha, who\nkept guard over that city, whose name was Viruka, suddenly came to the\nspot, and removing the fiery wheel from off the head of Gorinda, he\nplaced it on the head of Maitri. Then the wretched man cried out in his\nagony and said: 'O what have I done to merit this torment?' to which the\nYaksha replied: 'You, wretched man, dared to strike your mother on the\nhead as she lay on the ground; now, therefore, on your head you shall\nwear this fiery wheel; through 60,000 years your punishment shall last:\nbe assured of this, through all these years you shall wear this wheel.'\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE SINGING ASS: THE FOOLISH THIEVES: THE FAGGOT-MAKER AND THE MAGIC\nBOWL.\n\n\nSome of the Parrot's recitals have other tales sphered within them, so\nto say--a plan which must be familiar to all readers of the _Arabian\nNights_. In the following amusing tale, which is perhaps the best of the\nwhole series (it is the 41st of the India Office MS. No. 2573, and the\n31st in Kadiri's version), there are two subordinate stories:\n\n\n_The Singing Ass._\n\nAt a certain period of time, as ancient historians inform us, an ass and\nan elk were so fond of each other's company that they were never seen\nseparate. If the plains were deficient in pasture, they repaired to the\nmeadows; or, if famine pervaded the valleys, they overleaped the\ngarden-fence, and, like friends, divided the spoil.\n\nOne night, during the season of verdure, about the gay termination of\nspring, after they had rioted in the cup of plenty, and lay rolling on a\ngreen carpet of spinach, the cup of the silly ass began to overflow with\nthe froth of conceit, and he thus expressed his unseasonable intentions:\n\n\"O comrade of the branching antlers, what a mirth-inspiring night is\nthis! How joyous are the heart-attracting moments of spring! Fragrance\ndistils from every tree; the garden breathes otto of roses, and the\nwhole atmosphere is pregnant with musk. In the umbrageous gloom of the\nwaving cypress the turtles are exchanging their vows, and the bird of a\nthousand songs [i.e., the nightingale] sips nectar from the lips of the\nrose: nothing is wanting to complete the joys of spring but one of my\nmelodious songs. When the warm blood of youth shall cease to give\nanimation to these elegant limbs of mine, what relish shall I have for\npleasure? And when the lamp of my life is extinguished, the spring will\nreturn in vain.\"\n\n_Nakhshabi, music at every season is delightful, and a song sweetly\nmurmured captivates the senses._\n\n_The musician who charms our ears will most assuredly find the road of\nsuccess to our hearts._[51]\n\n   [51] The italicised passages which occur in this tale are\n        verses in the original Persian text.\n\nThe elk answered: \"Sagacious, long-eared associate, what an unseasonable\nproposal is this? Rather let us converse together about pack-saddles and\nsacks; tell me a story about straw, beans, or hay-lofts, unmerciful\ndrivers, and heavy burdens.\"\n\n_What business has the Ass to meddle with music?_\n\n_What occasion has Long-ears to attempt to sing?_\n\n\"You ought also to recollect,\" continued the elk, \"that we are thieves,\nand that we came into this garden to plunder. Consider what an enormous\nquantity of beets, lettuces, parsley, and radishes we have eaten, and\nwhat a fine bed of spinach we are spoiling! 'Nothing can be more\ndisgusting than a bird that sings out of season' is a proverb which is\nas current among the sons of wisdom as a bill of exchange among\nmerchants, and as valuable as an unpierced pearl. If you are so\ninfatuated as to permit the enchanting melody of your voice to draw you\ninto this inextricable labyrinth, the gardener will instantly awake,\nrouse his whole caravan of workmen, hasten to this garden and convert\nour music into mourning;  so that our history will be like that of the\nhouse-breakers.\"\n\nThe Prince of Folly, expressing a wish to know how that was, received\nthe following information:\n\n\n_The Foolish Thieves._\n\nIn one of the cities of Hindustan some thieves broke into a house, and\nafter collecting the most valuable movables sat down in a corner to bind\nthem up. In this corner was a large two-eared earthen vessel, brimful of\nthe wine of seduction, which sublime to their mouths they advanced and\nlong-breathed potations exhausted, crying: \"Everything is good in its\nturn; the hours of business are past--come on with the gift which\nfortune bestows; let us mitigate the toils of the night and smooth the\nforehead of care.\" As they approached the bottom of the flagon, the\nvanguard of intoxication began to storm the castle of reason; wild\nuproar, tumult, and their auxiliaries commanded by a sirdar of nonsense,\nsoon after scaled the walls, and the songs of folly vociferously\nproclaimed that the sultan of discretion was driven from his post, and\nconfusion had taken possession of the garrison. The noise awakened the\nmaster of the mansion, who was first overwhelmed with surprise, but soon\nrecollecting himself, he seized his trusty scimitar, and expeditiously\nroused his servants, who forthwith attacked the sons of disorder, and\nwith very little pains or risk extended them on the pavement of death.\n\n_Nakhshabi, everything is good in its season._\n\n_Let each perform his part in the world, that the world may go round._\n\n_He who drinks at an unseasonable hour ought not to complain of the\nvintner._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHere Long-ears superciliously answered: \"Pusillanimous companion, I am\nthe blossom of the city and the luminary of the people; my presence\ngives life to the plains, and my harmony cultivates the desert. If, when\nin vulgar prose I express the unpremeditated idea, every ear is filled\nwith delight, and the fleeting soul, through ecstacy, flutters on the\ntrembling lips--what must be the effect of my songs?\"\n\nThe elk rejoined: \"The ear must be deprived of sensation, the heart void\nof blood, and formed of the coarsest clay must be he who can attend your\nlays with indifference. But condescend, for once, to listen to advice,\nand postpone this music, in which you are so great a proficient, and\nsuppress not only the song, but the sweet murmuring in your throat,\nprelusive to your singing, and shrink not up your graceful nostrils, nor\nextent the extremities of your jaws, lest you should have as much reason\nto repent of your singing as the faggot-maker had of his dancing.\" The\nass demanding how that came to pass, the elk made answer as follows:\n\n\n_The Faggot-maker and the Magic Bowl._\n\nAs a faggot-maker was one day at work in a wood, he saw four peris [or\nfairies] sitting near him, with a magnificent bowl before them, which\nsupplied them with all they wanted. If they had occasion for food of the\nchoicest taste, wines of the most delicious flavour, garments the most\nvaluable and convenient, or perfumes of the most odoriferous\nexhalation--in short, whatever necessity could require, luxury demand,\nor avarice wish for--they had nothing more to do but put their hands\ninto the bowl and pull out whatever they desired. The day following, the\npoor faggot-maker being at work in the same place, the peris again\nappeared, and invited him to be one of their party. The proposal was\ncheerfully accepted, and impressing his wife and children with the seal\nof forgetfulness, he remained some days in their company. Recollecting\nhimself, however, at last, he thus addressed his white-robed\nentertainers:\n\n\"I am a poor faggot-maker, father of a numerous family; to drive famine\nfrom my cot, I every evening return with my faggots; but my cares for my\nwife and fireside have been for some time past obliterated by the cup of\nyour generosity. If my petition gain admission to the durbar of your\nenlightened auditory, I will return to give them the salaam of health,\nand inquire into the situation of their affairs.\"\n\nThe peris graciously nodded acquiescence, adding: \"The favours you have\nreceived from us are trifling, and we cannot dismiss you empty-handed.\nMake choice, therefore, of whatever you please, and the fervour of your\nmost unbounded desire shall be slaked in the stream of our munificence.\"\n\nThe wood-cutter replied: \"I have but one wish to gratify, and that is so\nunjust and so unreasonable that I dread the very thought of naming it,\nsince nothing but the bowl before us will satisfy my ambitious heart.\"\n\nThe peris, bursting into laughter, answered: \"We shall suffer not the\nleast inconvenience by the loss of it, for, by virtue of a talisman\nwhich we possess, we could make a thousand in a twinkling. But, in order\nto make it as great a treasure to you as it has been to us, guard it\nwith the utmost care, for it will break by the most trifling blow, and\nbe sure never to make use of it but when you really want it.\"\n\nThe faggot-maker, overcome with joy, said: \"I will pay the most profound\nattention to this inexhaustible treasure; and to preserve it from\nbreaking I will exert every faculty of my soul.\" Upon saying this he\nreceived the bowl, with which he returned on the wings of rapture, and\nfor some days enjoyed his good fortune better than might be expected.\nThe necessaries and comforts of life were provided for his family, his\ncreditors were paid, alms distributed to the poor, the brittle bowl of\nplenty was guarded with discretion, and everything around him was\narranged for the reception of his friends, who assembled in such crowds\nthat his cottage overflowed. The faggot-maker, who was one of those\nchoice elevated spirits whose money never rusts in their possession,\nfinding his habitation inadequate for the entertainment of his guests,\nbuilt another, more spacious and magnificent, to which he invited the\nwhole city, and placed the magic bowl in the middle of the grand saloon,\nand every time he made a dip pulled out whatever was wished for. Though\nthe views of his visitors were various, contentment was visibly\ninscribed on every forehead: the hungry were filled with the bread of\nplenty; the aqueducts overflowed with the wine of Shiraz; the effeminate\nwere satiated with musky odours, and the thirst of avarice was quenched\nby the bowl of abundance. The wondering spectators exclaimed: \"This is\nno bowl, but a boundless ocean of mystery! It is not what it appears to\nbe, a piece of furniture, but an inexhaustible magazine of treasure!\"\n\nAfter the faggot-maker had thus paraded his good fortune and circulated\nthe wine-cup with very great rapidity, he stood up and began to dance,\nand, to show his dexterity in the art, placed the brittle bowl on his\nleft shoulder, which every time he turned round he struck with his hand,\ncrying: \"O soul-exhilarating goblet, thou art the origin of my ease and\naffluence--the spring of my pomp and equipage--the engineer who has\nlifted me from the dust of indigence to the towering battlements of\nglory! Thou art the nimble berid [running foot-man] of my winged wishes,\nand the regulator of all my actions! To thee am I indebted for all the\nsplendour that surrounds me! Thou art the source of my currency, and art\nthe author of our present festival!\"\n\nWith these and similar foolish tales he entertained his company, as the\ngenius of nonsense dictated, making the most ridiculous grimaces,\nrolling his eyes like a fakir in a fit of devotion, and capering like\none distracted, till the bowl, by a sudden slip of his foot, fell from\nhis shoulder on the pavement of ruin, and was broken into a hundred\npieces. At the same instant, all that he had in the house, and whatever\nhe had circulated in the city, suddenly vanished;--the banquet of\nexultation was quickly converted into mourning, and he who a little\nbefore danced for joy now beat his breast for sorrow, blamed to no\npurpose the rigour of his inauspicious fortune, and execrated the hour\nof his birth. Thus a jewel fell into the hands of an unworthy person,\nwho was unacquainted with its value; and an inestimable gem was\nentrusted to an indigent wretch, who, by his ignorance and ostentation,\nconverted it to his own destruction.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Melodious bulbul of the long-eared race,\" continued the elk, \"as the\nwood-cutter's dancing was an unpardonable folly which met with the\nchastisement it deserved, so I fearfully anticipate that your\nunseasonable singing will become your exemplary punishment.\"\n\nHis ass-ship listened thus far with reluctance to the admonition of his\nfriend, without intending to profit by it; but arose from the carpet of\nspinach, eyed his companion with a mortifying glance of contempt,\npricked up his long snaky ears, and began to put himself into a musical\nposture. The nimble, small-hoofed elk, perceiving this, said to himself:\n\"Since he has stretched out his neck and prepared his pitch-pipe, he\nwill not remain long without singing.\" So he left the vegetable banquet,\nleaped over the garden wall, and fled to a place of security. The ass\nwas no sooner alone than he commenced a most loud and horrible braying,\nwhich instantly awoke the gardeners, who, with the noose of an insidious\nhalter, to the trunk of a tree fast bound the affrighted musician, where\nthey belaboured him with their cudgels till they broke every bone in his\nbody, and converted his skin to a book, in which, in letters of gold, a\nmunshi [learned man] of luminous pen, with the choicest flowers of the\ngarden of rhetoric, and for the benefit of the numerous fraternity of\nasses, inscribed this instructive history.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMagical articles such as the wonderful wishing-bowl of our unlucky\nfriend the Faggot-maker figure very frequently in the folk-tales of\nalmost every country, assuming many different forms: a table-cloth, a\npair of saddle-bags, a purse, a flask, etc.; but since a comprehensive\naccount of those highly-gifted objects--alas, that they should no longer\nexist!--is furnished in the early chapters of my _Popular Tales and\nFictions_, I presume I need not go over the same wide field again.--In\nthe _Katha Sarit Sagara_ (Ocean of the Streams of Story), a very large\ncollection of tales and apologues, composed, in Sanskrit, by Somadeva,\nin the 12th century, after a much older work, the _Vrihat Katha_ (or\nGreat Story), the tale of the Faggot-maker occurs as a separate recital.\nIt is there an inexhaustible pitcher which he receives from four\nyakshas--supernatural beings, who correspond to some extent with the\nperis of Muslim mythology--and he is duly warned that should it be\nbroken it departs at once. For a time he concealed the secret from his\nrelations until one day, when he was intoxicated, they asked him how it\ncame about that he had given up carrying burdens, and had abundance of\nall kinds of dainties, eatable and drinkable. \"He was too much puffed up\nwith pride to tell them plainly, but, taking the wish-granting pitcher\non his shoulder, he began to dance; and, as he was dancing, the\ninexhaustible pitcher slipped from his shoulder, as his feet tripped\nwith over-abundance of intoxication, and, falling on the ground, was\nbroken in pieces. And immediately it was mended again, and reverted to\nits original possessor; but Subadatta was reduced to his former\ncondition, and filled with despondency.\" In a note to this story, Mr.\nTawney remarks that in Bartsch's Meklenburg Tales a man possesses\nhimself of an inexhaustible beer-can, but as soon as he tells how he got\nit the beer disappears.--The story of the Foolish Thieves noisily\ncarousing in the house they had just plundered occurs also in Saadi's\n_Gulistan_ and several other Eastern story-books.\n\nIn Kadiri's abridgment of the Parrot-Book, the Elk is taken prisoner as\nwell as his companion the Ass, and the two subordinate stories, of the\nFoolish Thieves and of the Faggot-maker, are omitted. They are also\nomitted in the version of the Singing Ass found in the _Panchatantra_\n(B. v, F. 7), where a jackal, not an elk, is the companion of the ass,\nand when he perceives the latter about to \"sing\" he says: \"Let me get to\nthe door of the garden, where I may see the gardener as he approaches,\nand then sing away as long as you please.\" The gardener beats the ass\ntill he is weary, and then fastens a clog to the animal's leg and ties\nhim to a post. After great exertion, the ass contrives to get free from\nthe post and hobbles away with the clog still on his leg. The jackal\nmeets his old comrade and exclaims: \"Bravo, uncle! You would sing your\nsong, though I did all I could to dissuade you, and now see what a fine\nornament you have received as recompense for your performance.\" This\nform of the story reappears in the _Tantrakhyana_, a collection of\ntales, in Sanskrit, discovered by Prof. Cecil Bendall in 1884, of which\nhe has given an interesting account in the _Journal of the Royal Asiatic\nSociety_, vol. xx, pp. 465-501, including the original text of a number\nof the stories.--In Ralston's _Tibetan Tales_, translated from\nSchiefner's German rendering of stories from the _Kah-gyur_ (No. xxxii),\nthe story is also found, with a bull in place of a jackal. An ass meets\nthe bull one evening and proposes they should go together and feast\nthemselves to their hearts' content in the king's bean-field, to which\nthe bull replies: \"O nephew, as you are wont to let your voice resound,\nwe should run great risk.\" Said the ass: \"O uncle, let us go; I will not\nraise my voice.\" Having entered the bean-field together, the ass uttered\nno sound until he had eaten his fill. Then quoth he: \"Uncle, shall I not\nsing a little?\" The bull responded: \"Wait an instant until I have gone\naway, and then do just as you please.\" So the bull runs away, and the\nass lifts up his melodious voice, upon which the king's servants came\nand seized him, cut off his long ears, fastened a pestle on his neck,\nand drove him out of the field.--There can be no question, I think, as\nto the superiority, in point of humour, of Nakhshabi's version in _Tuti\nNama_, as given above.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE COVETOUS GOLDSMITH--THE KING WHO DIED OF LOVE--THE DISCOVERY OF\nMUSIC--THE SEVEN REQUISITES OF A PERFECT WOMAN.\n\n\nTo quit, for the present at least, the regions of fable and magic, and\nreturn to tales of common life: the 30th recital in Kadiri's abridged\ntext is of\n\n\n_The Goldsmith who lost his Life through his Covetousness._\n\nA soldier finds a purse of gold on the highway, and entrusts it to the\nkeeping of a goldsmith (how frequently do goldsmiths figure in these\nstories--and never to the credit of the craft!), but when he comes to\ndemand it back the other denies all knowledge of it. The soldier cites\nhim before the kazi, but he still persists in denying that he had ever\nreceived any money from the complainant. The kazi was, however,\nconvinced of the truth of the soldier's story, so he goes to the house\nof the goldsmith, and privately causes two of his own attendants to be\nlocked up in a large chest that was in one of the rooms. He then\nconfines the goldsmith and his wife in the same room. During the night\nthe concealed men hear the goldsmith inform his wife where he had hidden\nthe soldier's money; and next morning, when the kazi comes again and is\ntold by his men what they had heard the goldsmith say to his wife about\nthe money, he causes search to be made, and, finding it, hangs the\ngoldsmith on the spot.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nKazis are often represented in Persian stories as being very shrewd and\ningenious in convicting the most expert rogues, but this device for\ndiscovering the goldsmith's criminality is certainly one of the\ncleverest examples.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the 36th Night of MS. (26th of Kadiri) the loquacious bird relates\nthe story of\n\n\n_The King who died of Love for a Merchant's beautiful Daughter._\n\nA merchant had a daughter, the fame of whose beauty drew many suitors\nfor her hand, but he rejected them all; and when she was of proper age\nhe wrote a letter to the king, describing her charms and\naccomplishments, and respectfully offering her to him in marriage. The\nking, already in love with the damsel from this account of her beauty,\nsends his four vazirs to the merchant's house to ascertain whether she\nwas really as charming as her father had represented her to be. They\nfind that she far surpassed the power of words to describe; but,\nconsidering amongst themselves that should the king take this bewitching\ngirl to wife, he would become so entangled in the meshes of love as\ntotally to neglect the affairs of the state, they underrate her beauty\nto the king, who then gives up all thought of her. But it chanced one\nday that the king himself beheld the damsel on the terrace of her house,\nand, perceiving that his vazirs had deceived him, he sternly reprimanded\nthem, at the same time expressing his fixed resolution of marrying the\ngirl. The vazirs frankly confessed that their reason for misrepresenting\nthe merchant's daughter to him was their fear lest, possessing such a\ncharming bride, he should forget his duty to the state; upon which the\nking, struck with their anxiety for his true interests, resolved to deny\nhimself the happiness of marrying the girl. But he could not suppress\nhis affection for her: he fell sick, and soon after died, the victim of\nlove.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis story forms the 17th of the Twenty-five Tales of a Demon (_Vetala\nPanchavinsati_), according to the Sanskrit version found in the _Katha\nSarit Sagara_; but its great antiquity is proved by the circumstance\nthat it is found in a Buddhistic work dating probably 200 years before\nour era--namely, Buddhaghosha's Parables. \"Dying for love,\" says\nRichardson, \"is considered amongst us as a mere poetical figure, and we\ncan certainly support the reality by few examples; but in Eastern\ncountries it seems to be something more, many words in the Arabic and\nPersian languages which express love implying also melancholy; madness,\nand death.\" Shakspeare affirms that \"men have died, and worms have eaten\nthem, but not for love.\" There is, however, one notable instance of this\non record, in the story (as related by Warton, in his _History of\nEnglish Poetry_) of the gallant troubadour Geoffrey Rudel, who died for\nlove--and love, too, from hearsay description of the beauty of the\nCountess of Tripoli.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the 14th Night the Parrot entertains the Lady with a very curious\naccount of\n\n\n_The Discovery of Music._\n\nSome attribute, says the learned and eloquent feathered sage (according\nto Gerrans), the discovery to the sounds made by a large stone against\nthe frame of an oil-press; and others to the noise of meat when\nroasting; but the sages of Hind [India] are of opinion that it\noriginated from the following accident: As a learned Brahman was\ntravelling to the court of an illustrious raja he rested about the\nmiddle of the day under the shade of a mulberry tree, on the top of\nwhich he beheld a mischievous monkey climbing from bough to bough, till,\nby a sudden slip, he fell upon a sharp-pointed shoot, which instantly\nripped up his belly and left his entrails suspended in the tree, while\nthe unlucky animal fell, breathless, on the dust of death. Some time\nafter this, as the Brahman was returning, he accidentally sat down in\nthe same place, and, recollecting the circumstance, looked up, and saw\nthat the entrails were dried, and yielded a harmonious sound every time\nthe wind gently impelled them against the branches. Charmed at the\nsingularity of the adventure, he took them down, and after binding them\nto the two ends of his walking-stick, touched them with a small twig, by\nwhich he discovered that the sound was much improved. When he got home\nhe fastened the staff to another piece of wood, which was hollow, and by\nthe addition of a bow, strung with part of his own beard, converted it\nto a complete instrument. In succeeding ages the science received\nconsiderable improvements. After the addition of a bridge, purer notes\nwere extracted; and the different students, pursuing the bent of their\ninclinations, constructed instruments of various forms, according to\ntheir individual fancies; and to this whimsical accident we are indebted\nfor the tuneful ney and the heart-exhilarating rabab, and, in short, all\nthe other instruments of wind and strings.\n\nHaving thus discoursed upon the discovery of music, the Parrot proceeds\nto detail\n\n\n_The Seven Requisites of a Perfect Woman._\n\n    1  She ought not to be always merry.\n\n    2  She ought not to be always sad.\n\n    3  She ought not to be always talking.\n\n    4  She ought not to be always thinking.\n\n    5  She ought not to be constantly dressing.\n\n    6  She ought not to be always unadorned.\n\n    7  She is a perfect woman who, at all times, possesses\n       herself; can be cheerful without levity, grave\n       without austerity; knows when to elevate the tongue\n       of persuasion, and when to impress her lips with the\n       signet of silence; never converts trifling ceremonies\n       into intolerable burdens; always dresses becoming to\n       her rank and age; is modest without prudery, religious\n       without an alloy of superstition; can hear the one sex\n       praised without envy, and converse with the other\n       without permitting the torch of inconstancy to kindle\n       the unhallowed fire in her breast; considers her husband\n       as the most accomplished of mortals, and thinks\n       all the sons of Adam besides unworthy of a transient\n       glance from the corner of her half-shut eyes.\n\nSuch are the requisites of a perfect woman, and how thankful we should\nbe that we have so many in this highly-favoured land who possess them\nall! These maxims are assuredly of Indian origin--no Persian could ever\nhave conceived such virtues as being attainable by women.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE PRINCESS OF ROME AND HER SON--THE KING AND HIS SEVEN VAZIRS.\n\n\nThe story told by the Parrot on the 50th Night is very singular, and\npresents, no doubt, a faithful picture of Oriental manners and customs.\nIn the original text it is entitled\n\n\n_Story of the Daughter of the Kaysar of Rome, and her trouble by reason\nof her Son._\n\nIn former times there was a great king, whose army was numerous and\nwhose treasury was full to overflowing; but, having no enemy to contend\nwith, he neglected to pay his soldiers, in consequence of which they\nwere in a state of destitution and discontent. At length one day the\nsoldiers went to the prime vazir and made their condition known to him.\nThe vazir promised that he would speedily devise a plan by which they\nshould have employment and money. Next morning he presented himself\nbefore the king, and said that it was widely reported that the kaysar of\nRome had a daughter unsurpassed for beauty--one who was fit only for\nsuch a great monarch as his Majesty--and suggested that it would be\nadvantageous if an alliance were formed between two such potentates. The\nnotion pleased the king well, and he forthwith despatched to Rome an\nambassador with rich gifts, and requested the kaysar to grant him his\ndaughter in marriage. But the kaysar waxed wroth at this, and refused to\ngive his daughter to the king. When the ambassador returned thus\nunsuccessful, the king, enraged at being made of no account, resolved to\nmake war upon the kaysar, and, opening the doors of his treasury, he\ndistributed much money among his troops, and then, \"with a woe-bringing\nlust, and a blood-drinking army, he trampled Rome and the Romans in the\ndust.\" And when the kaysar was become powerless, he sent his daughter to\nthe king, who married her according to the law of Islam.\n\nNow that princess had a son by a former husband, and the kaysar had said\nto her before she departed: \"Beware that thou mention not thy son, for\nmy love for his society is great, and I cannot part with him.\" But the\nprincess was sick at heart for the absence of her son, and she was ever\npondering how she should speak to the king about him, and in what manner\nshe might contrive to bring him to her. It happened one day the king\ngave her a string of pearls and a casket of jewels. She said: \"With my\nfather is a slave well skilled in the science of jewels.\" The king\nreplied: \"If I should ask that slave of thy father, would he give him to\nme?\" \"Nay,\" said she; \"for he holds him in the place of a son. But, if\nthe king desire him, I will send a merchant to Rome, and I myself will\ngive him a token, and with pleasant wiles and fair speeches will bring\nhim hither.\" Then the king sent for a clever merchant who knew Arabic\neloquently and the language of Rome, and gave him goods for trading, and\nsent him to Rome with the object of procuring that slave. But the\ndaughter of the kaysar said privately to the merchant: \"That slave is my\nson; I have, for a good reason, said to the king that he is a slave; so\nthou must bring him as a slave, and let it be thy duty to take care of\nhim.\" In due course the merchant brought the youth to the king's\nservice; and when the king saw his fair face, and discovered in him many\npleasing and varied accomplishments, he treated him with distinction and\nfavour, and conferred on the merchant a robe of honour and gifts. His\nmother saw him from afar, and was pleased with receiving a salutation\nfrom him.\n\nOne day (the text proceeds) the king had gone to the chase, and the\npalace remained void of rivals; so the mother called in her son, kissed\nhis fair face, and told him the tale of her great sorrow. A chamberlain\nbecame aware of the secret, and another suspicion fell upon him, and he\nsaid to himself: \"The harem of the king is the sanctuary of security and\nthe palace of protection. If I speak not of this, I shall be guilty of\ntreachery, and shall have wrought unfaithfulness.\" When the king\nreturned from the chase, the chamberlain related to him what he had\nseen, and the king was angry and said: \"This woman has deceived me with\nwords and deeds, and has brought hither her desire by craft and cunning.\nThis conjecture must be true, else why did she play such a trick, and\nwhy did she hatch such a plot, and why did she send the merchant?\" The\nking, enraged, went into the harem. The queen saw from his countenance\nthat the occurrence of the night before had become known to him, and she\nsaid: \"Be it not that I see the king angry.\" He said: \"How should I not\nbe angry? Thou, by craft, and trickery, and intrigue, and plotting, hast\nbrought thy desire from Rome--what wantonness is this that thou hast\ndone?\" Then he thought to slay her, but he forbore, because of his great\nlove for her. But he ordered the chamberlain to carry the youth to some\nobscure place, and straightway sever his head from his body. When the\npoor mother saw this she well-nigh fell on her face, and her soul was\nnear leaving her body. But she knew that sorrow would not avail, and she\nrestrained herself.\n\nAnd when the chamberlain took the youth into his own house, he said to\nhim: \"O youth, know you not that the harem of the king is the sanctuary\nof security? What great treachery is this that thou hast perpetrated?\"\nThe youth replied: \"That queen is my mother, and I am her true son.\nBecause of her natural delicacy, she said not to the king that she had a\nson by another husband. And when yearning came over her, she contrived\nto bring me here from Rome; and while the king was engaged in the chase\nmaternal love stirred, and she called me to her and embraced me.\" On\nhearing this, the chamberlain said to himself: \"What is passing in his\nmother's breast? What I have not done I can yet do, and it were better\nthat I preserve this youth some days, for such a rose may not be wounded\nthrough idle words, and such a bough may not be broken by a single\nbreath. For some day the truth of this matter will be disclosed, and it\nwill become known to the king, when repentance may be of no avail.\"\nAnother day he went before the king, and said: \"That which was commanded\nhave I fulfilled.\" On hearing this the king's wrath was to some extent\nremoved, but his trust in the kaysar's daughter was departed; while she,\npoor creature, was grieved and dazed at the loss of her son.\n\nNow in the palace harem there was an old woman, who said to the queen:\n\"How is it that I find thee sorrowful?\" And the queen told the whole\nstory, concealing nothing. The old woman was a heroine in the field of\ncraft, and she answered: \"Keep thy mind at ease: I will devise a\nstratagem by which the heart of the king will be pleased with thee, and\nevery grief he has will vanish from his heart.\" The queen said, that if\nshe did so she should be amply rewarded. One day the old woman, seeing\nthe king alone, said to him: \"Why is thy former aspect altered, and why\nare traces of care and anxiety visible on thy countenance?\" The king\nthen told her all. The old woman said: \"I have an amulet of the charms\nof Solomon, in the Syriac language, in the the writing of the jinn\n[genii]. When the queen is asleep do thou place it on her breast, and,\nwhatever it may be, she will tell all the truth of it. But take care,\nfall thou not asleep, but listen well to what she says.\" The king\nwondered at this, and said: \"Give me that amulet, that the truth of this\nmatter may be learned.\" So the old woman gave him the amulet, and then\nwent to the queen and explained what she had done, and said: \"Do thou\nfeign to be asleep, and relate the whole of the story faithfully.\"\n\nWhen a watch of the night was past, the king laid the amulet upon his\nwife's breast, and she thus began: \"By a former husband I had a son, and\nwhen my father gave me to this king, I was ashamed to say I had a tall\nson. When my yearning passed all bounds, I brought him here by an\nartifice. One day that the king was gone to the chase, I called him into\nthe house, when, after the way of mothers, I took him in my arms and\nkissed him. This reached the king's ears, and he unwittingly gave it\nanother construction, and cut off the head of that innocent boy, and\nwithdrew from me his own heart. Alike is my son lost to me and the king\nangry.\" When the king heard these words he kissed her and exclaimed: \"O\nmy life, what an error is this thou hast committed? Thou hast brought\ncalumny upon thyself, and hast given such a son to the winds, and hast\nmade me ashamed!\" Straightway he called the chamberlain and said: \"That\nboy whom thou hast killed is the son of my beloved and the darling of my\nbeauty! Where is his grave, that we may make there a guest-house?\" The\nchamberlain said: \"That youth is yet alive. When the king commanded his\ndeath I was about to kill him, but he said: 'That queen is my mother;\nthrough modesty before the king she revealed not the secret that she had\na tall son. Kill me not; it may be that some day the truth will become\nknown, and repentance profits not, and regret is useless.'\" The king\ncommanded them to bring the youth, so they brought him straightway. And\nwhen the mother saw the face of her son, she thanked God and praised the\nMost High, and became one of the Muslims, and from the sect of\nunbelievers came into the faith of Islam. And the king favoured the\nchamberlain in the highest degree, and they passed the rest of their\nlives in comfort and ease.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis tale is also found in the Persian _Bakhtyar Nama_ (or the Ten\nVazirs), the precise date of which has not been ascertained, but a MS.\nTurki (Uygur) version of it, preserved in the Bodleian Library, Oxford,\nbears to have been written in 1434; the Persian text must therefore have\nbeen composed before that date. In the text translated by Sir William\nOuseley, in place of the daughter of the kaysar of Rome it is the\ndaughter of the king of Irak whom the king of Abyssinia marries, after\nsubduing the power of her father; and, so far from a present of jewels\nto her being the occasion of her mentioning her son, in the condition of\na slave, it is said that one day the king behaved harshly to her, and\nspoke disrespectfully of her father, upon which she boasted that her\nfather had in his service a youth of great beauty and possessed of every\naccomplishment, which excited the king's desire to have him brought to\nhis court; and the merchant smuggled the youth out of the country of\nIrak concealed in a chest, placed on the back of a camel. In\nLescallier's French translation it is said that the youth was the fruit\nof a _liaison_ of the princess, unknown to her father; that his\neducation was secretly entrusted to certain servants; and that the\nprincess afterwards contrived to introduce the boy to her father, who\nwas so charmed with his beauty, grace of manner, and accomplishments,\nthat he at once took him into his service. Thus widely do manuscripts of\nthe same Eastern work vary!\n\n\n_The King and his Seven Vazirs._\n\nOn the Eighth Night the Parrot relates, in a very abridged form, the\nstory of the prince who was falsely accused by one of his father's women\nof having made love to her, and who was saved by the tales which the\nroyal counsellors related to the king in turn during seven consecutive\ndays. The original of this romance is the _Book of Sindibad_, so named\nafter the prince's tutor, Sindibad the sage: the Arabic version is known\nunder the title of the _Seven Vazirs_; the Hebrew, _Mishle Sandabar_;\nthe Greek, _Syntipas_; and the Syriac, _Sindban_; and its European\nmodifications, the _Seven Wise Masters_. In the Parrot-Book the first to\nthe sixth vazirs each relate one story only, and the damsel has no\nstories (all other Eastern versions give two to each of the seven, and\nsix to the queen); the seventh vazir simply appears on the seventh day\nand makes clear the innocence of the prince. This version, however,\nthough imperfect, is yet of some value in making a comparative study of\nthe several texts.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE TREE OF LIFE--LEGEND OF RAJA RASALU--CONCLUSION.\n\n\nMany others of the Parrot's stories might be cited, but we shall merely\nglance at one more, as it calls up a very ancient and wide-spread\nlegend:\n\n\n_The Tree of Life._\n\nA prince, who is very ill, sends a parrot of great sagacity to procure\nhim some of the fruit of the Tree of Life. When at length the parrot\nreturns with the life-giving fruit, the prince scruples to eat it, upon\nwhich the wise bird relates the legend of Solomon and the Water of\nImmortality: how that monarch declined to purchase immunity from death\non consideration that he should survive all his friends and female\nfavourites. The prince, however, having suspicions regarding the\ngenuineness of the fruit, sends some trusty messengers to \"bring the\nfirst apple that fell from the Tree of Existence.\" But it happened that\na black serpent had poisoned it by seizing it in his mouth and then\nletting it drop again. When the messengers return with the fruit, the\nprince tries its effect on an old _pir_ (holy man), who at once falls\ndown dead. Upon seeing this the prince doomed the parrot to death, but\nthe sagacious bird suggested that, before the prince should execute him\nfor treason, he should himself go to the Tree of Life, and make another\nexperiment with its fruit. He does so, and on returning home gives part\nof the fruit to an old woman, \"who, from age and infirmity had not\nstirred abroad for many years,\" and she had no sooner tasted it than she\nwas changed into a blooming beauty of eighteen!--Happy, happy old woman!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA different version of the legend occurs in a Canarese collection,\nentitled _Katha Manjari_, which is worthy of reproduction, since it may\npossibly be an earlier form than that in the Persian Parrot-Book: A\ncertain king had a magpie that flew one day to heaven with another\nmagpie. When it was there it took away some mango-seed, and, having\nreturned, gave it into the hands of the king, saying: \"If you cause this\nto be planted and grow, whoever eats of its fruit old age will forsake\nhim and youth return.\" The king was much pleased, and caused it to be\nsown in his favourite garden, and carefully watched it. After some time,\nbuds having shown themselves in it became flowers, then young fruit,\nthen it was grown; and when it was full of ripe fruit, the king ordered\nit to be cut and brought, and that he might test it gave it to an old\nman. But on that fruit there had fallen poison from a serpent, as it was\ncarried through the air by a kite, therefore he immediately withered and\ndied. The king, having seen this, was much afraid, and exclaimed: \"Is\nnot this bird attempting to kill me?\" Having said this, with anger he\nseized the magpie, and swung it round and killed it. Afterwards in that\nvillage the tree had the name of the Poisonous Mango. While things were\nthus, a washerman, taking the part of his wife in a quarrel with his\naged mother, struck the latter, who was so angry at her son that she\nresolved to die [in order that the blame of her death should fall on\nhim]; and having gone to the poisonous mango-tree in the garden, she cut\noff a fruit and ate it; and immediately she was more blooming than a\ngirl of sixteen. This wonder she published everywhere. The king became\nacquainted with it, and having called her and seen her, caused the fruit\nto be given to other old people. Having seen what was thus done by the\nwonderful virtue of the mango, the king exclaimed: \"Alas! is the\naffectionate magpie killed which gave me this divine tree? How guilty am\nI!\" and he pierced himself with his sword and died. Therefore (moralises\nthe story-teller) those who do anything without thought are easily\nruined.[52]\n\n   [52] There is a very similar story in the Tamil _Alakesa\n        Katha_, a tale of a King and his Four Ministers, but the\n        conclusion is different: the raja permits all his\n        subjects to partake of the youth-bestowing fruit;--I\n        wonder whether they are yet alive! A translation of the\n        romance of the King and his Four Ministers--the first\n        that has been made into English--will be found in my\n        _Group of Eastern Romances and Stories_, 1889.\n\nThe incident of fruit or food being poisoned by a serpent is of frequent\noccurrence in Eastern stories; thus, in the _Book of Sindibad_ a man\nsends his slave-girl to fetch milk, with which to feast some guests. As\nshe was returning with it in an open vessel a stork flew over her,\ncarrying a snake in its beak; the snake dropped some of its poison into\nthe milk, and all the guests who partook of it immediately fell down and\ndied.--The Water of Life and the Tree of Life are the subjects of many\nEuropean as well as Asiatic folk-tales. Muslims have a tradition that\nAlexander the Great despatched the prophet Al-Khizar (who is often\nconfounded with Moses and Elias in legends) to procure him some of the\nWater of Life. The prophet, after a long and perilous journey, at length\nreached this Spring of Everlasting Youth, and, having taken a hearty\ndraught of its waters, the stream suddenly disappeared--and has, we may\nsuppose, never been rediscovered. Al-Khizar, they say, still lives, and\noccasionally appears to persons whom he desires especially to favour,\nand always clothed in a green robe, the emblem of perennial youth. In\nArabic, Khizar signifies _green_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe faithful and sagacious Parrot having entertained the lady during\nfifty-two successive nights, and thereby prevented her from prosecuting\nher intended intrigue, on the following day the merchant returned, and,\nmissing the sharak from the cage, inquired its fate of the Parrot, who\nstraight-way acquainted him of all that had taken place in his absence,\nand, according to Kadiri's abridged text, he put his wife to death,\nwhich was certainly very unjust, since the lady's offence was only in\n_design_, not in _fact_.[53]\n\n   [53] In one Telugu version, entitled _Toti Nama Cat'halu_,\n        the lady kills the bird after hearing all its tales; and\n        in another the husband, on returning home and learning\n        of his wife's intended intrigue, cuts off her head and\n        becomes a devotee.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt will be observed that the frame of the _Tuti Nama_ somewhat resembles\nthe story, in the _Arabian Nights_, of the Merchant, his Wife, and the\nParrot, which properly belongs to, and occurs in, all the versions of\nthe _Book of Sindibad_, and also in the _Seven Wise Masters_; in the\nlatter a magpie takes the place of the parrot. In my _Popular Tales and\nFictions_ I have pointed out the close analogy which the frame of the\nParrot-Book bears to a Panjabi legend of the renowned hero Raja Rasalu.\nIn the _Tuti Nama_ the merchant leaves a parrot and a sharak to watch\nover his wife's conduct in his absence, charging her to obtain their\nconsent before she enters upon any undertaking of moment; and on her\nconsulting the sharak as to the propriety of her assignation with the\nyoung prince, the bird refuses consent, whereupon the enraged dame kills\nit on the spot; but the parrot, by pursuing a middle course, saves his\nlife and his master's honour. In the Panjabi legend Raja Rasalu, who was\nvery frequently from home on hunting excursions, left behind him a\nparrot and a maina (hill starling), to act as spies upon his young wife,\nthe Rani Kokla. One day while Rasalu was from home she was visited by\nthe handsome Raja Hodi, who climbed to her balcony by a rope (this\nincident is the subject of many paintings in fresco on the panels of\npalaces and temples in India), when the maina exclaimed, \"What\nwickedness is this?\" upon which the raja went to the cage, took out the\nmaina, and dashed it to the ground, so that it died. But the parrot,\ntaking warning, said, \"The steed of Rasalu is swift, what if he should\nsurprise you? Let me out of my cage, and I will fly over the palace, and\nwill inform you the instant he appears in sight\"; and so she released\nthe parrot. In the sequel, the parrot betrays the rani, and Rasalu kills\nRaja Hodi and causes his heart to be served to the rani for supper.[54]\n\n   [54] Captain R. C. Temple's _Legends of the Panjab_, vol. i,\n        p. 52 ff.; and \"Four Legends of Raja Rasalu,\" by the\n        Rev. C. Swynnerton, in the _Folk-Lore Journal_, 1883, p.\n        141 ff.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe parrot is a very favourite character in Indian fictions, a\ncircumstance originating, very possibly, in the Hindu belief in\nmetempsychosis, or transmigration of souls after death into other animal\nforms, and also from the remarkable facility with which that bird\nimitates the human voice. In the _Katha Sarit Sagara_ stories of wise\nparrots are of frequent occurrence; sometimes they figure as mere birds,\nbut at other times as men who had been re-born in that form. In the\nthird of the Twenty-Five Tales of a Demon (Sanskrit version), a king has\na parrot, \"possessed of god-like intellect, knowing all the _shastras_,\nhaving been born in that condition owing to a curse\"; and his queen has\na hen-maina \"remarkable for knowledge.\" They are placed in the same\ncage; and \"one day the parrot became enamoured of the maina, and said to\nher: 'Marry me, fair one, as we sleep, perch, and feed in the same\ncage.' But the maina answered him: 'I do not desire intimate union with\na male, for all males are wicked and ungrateful.' The parrot answered:\n'It is not true that males are wicked, but females are wicked and\ncruel-hearted.' And so a dispute arose between them. The two birds then\nmade a bargain that, if the parrot won, he should have the maina for\nwife, and if the maina won, the parrot should be her slave, and they\ncame before the prince to get a true judgment.\" Each relates a\nstory--the one to show that men are all wicked and ungrateful, the\nother, that women are wicked and cruel-hearted.\n\nIt must be confessed that the frame of the _Tuti Nama_ is of a very\nflimsy description: nothing could be more absurd, surely, than to\nrepresent the lady as decorating herself fifty-two nights in succession\nin order to have an interview with a young prince, and being detained\neach night by the Parrot's tales, which, moreover, have none of them the\nleast bearing upon the condition and purpose of the lady; unlike the\nTelugu story-book, having a somewhat similar frame (see _ante_, p. 127,\n_note_), in which the tales related by the bird are about chaste wives.\nBut the frames of all Eastern story-books are more or less slight and of\nsmall account. The value of the _Tuti Nama_ consists in the aid which\nthe subordinate tales furnish in tracing the genealogy of popular\nfictions, and in this respect the importance of the work can hardly be\nover-rated.\n\n\n\n\n_ADDITIONAL NOTE._\n\n\nTHE MAGIC BOWL, pp. 152-156; 157, 158.\n\nIn our tale of the Faggot-maker, the fairies warn him to guard the Magic\nBowl with the utmost care, \"for it will break by the most trifling\nblow,\" and he is to use it only when absolutely necessary; and in the\nnotes of variants appended, reference is made (p. 158) to a Meklenburg\nstory where the beer in an inexhaustible can disappears the moment its\npossessor reveals the secret. The gifts made by fairies and other\nsuperhuman beings have indeed generally some condition attached (most\ncommonly, perhaps, that they are not to be examined until the recipients\nhave reached home), as is shown pretty conclusively by my friend Mr. E.\nSidney Hartland in a most interesting paper on \"Fairy Births and Human\nMidwives,\" which enriches the pages of the _Archaeological Review_ for\nDecember, 1889, and at the close of which he cites, from Poestion's\n_Lapplaendische Maerchen_, p. 119, a curious example, which may be fairly\nregarded as an analogue of the tale of the Poor Faggot-maker--\"far cry\"\nthough it be from India to Swedish Lappmark:\n\n\"A peasant who had one day been unlucky at the chase was returning\ndisgusted, when he met a fine gentleman, who begged him to come and cure\nhis wife. The peasant protested in vain that he was no doctor. The other\nwould take no denial, insisting that it was no matter, for if he would\nonly put his hands on the lady she would be healed. Accordingly, the\nstranger led him to the very top of a mountain where was perched a\ncastle he had never seen before. On entering, he found the walls were\nmirrors, the roof overhead of silver, the carpets of gold-embroidered\nsilk, and the furniture of the purest gold and jewels. The stranger took\nhim into a room where lay the loveliest of princesses on a golden bed,\nscreaming with pain. As soon as she saw the peasant, she begged him to\ncome and put his hands upon her. Almost stupified with astonishment, he\nhesitated to lay his coarse hands upon so fair a dame. But at length he\nyielded, and in a moment her pain ceased, and she was made whole. She\nstood up and thanked him, begging him to tarry awhile and eat with them.\nThis, however, he declined to do, for he feared that if he tasted the\nfood which was offered him he must remain there.\n\n\"The stranger whom he had followed then took a leathern purse, filled it\nwith small round pieces of wood, and gave it to the peasant with these\nwords: 'So long as thou art in possession of this purse, money will\nnever fail thee. But if thou shouldst ever see me again, beware of\nspeaking to me; for if thou speak thy luck will depart.' When the man\ngot home he found the purse filled with dollars; and by virtue of its\nmagical property he became the richest man in the parish. As soon as he\nfound the purse always full, whatever he took out of it, he began to\nlive in a spendthrift manner, and frequented the alehouse. One evening\nas he sat there he beheld the stranger, with a bottle in his hand, going\nround and gathering the drops which the guests shook from time to time\nout of their glasses. The rich peasant was surprised that one who had\ngiven him so much did not seem able to buy himself a single dram, but\nwas reduced to this means of getting a drink. Thereupon he went up to\nhim and said: 'Thou hast shown me more kindness than any other man ever\ndid, and willingly I will treat thee to a little.' The words were scarce\nout of his mouth when he received such a blow on his head that he fell\nstunned to the ground; and when again he came to himself the stranger\nand his purse were both gone. From that day forward he became poorer and\npoorer, until he was reduced to absolute beggary.\"\n\nAmong other examples adduced by Mr. Hartland is a Bohemian legend in\nwhich \"the Frau von Hahnen receives for her services to a water-nix\nthree pieces of gold, with the injunction to take care of them, and\nnever to let them go out of the hands of her own lineage, else the whole\nfamily would fall into poverty. She bequeathed the treasures to her\nthree sons; but the youngest son took a wife who with a light heart gave\nthe fairy gold away. Misery, of course, resulted from her folly, and the\nrace of Hahnen speedily came to an end.\"--But those who are interested\nin the study of comparative folk-lore would do well to read for\nthemselves the whole paper, which is assuredly by far the most (if not\nindeed the only) comprehensive attempt that has yet been made in our\nlanguage to treat scientifically the subject of fairy gifts to human\nbeings.\n\n\n\n\nRABBINICAL LEGENDS, TALES, FABLES, AND APHORISMS.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nINTRODUCTORY.\n\n\nIn the Talmud are embodied those rules and institutions--interpretations\nof the civil and canonical laws contained in the Old Testament--which\nwere transmitted orally to succeeding generations of the Jewish\npriesthood until the general dispersion of the Hebrew race. According to\nthe Rabbis, Moses received the oral as well as the written law at Mount\nSinai, and it was by him communicated to Joshua, from whom it was\ntransmitted through forty successive Receivers. So long as the Temple\nstood, it was deemed not only unnecessary, but absolutely unlawful, to\ncommit these ancient and carefully-preserved traditions to writing; but\nafter the second destruction of Jerusalem, under Hadrian, when the\nJewish people were scattered over the world, the system of oral\ntransmission of these traditions from generation to generation became\nimpracticable, and, to prevent their being lost, they were formed into a\npermanent record about A.D. 190, by Rabbi Jehudah the Holy, who called\nhis work _Mishna_, or the Secondary Laws. About a hundred years later a\ncommentary on it was written by Rabbi Jochonan, called _Gemara_, or the\nCompletion, and these two works joined together are known as the\n(Jerusalem) _Talmud_, or Directory. But this commentary being written in\nan obscure style, and omitting many traditions known farther east,\nanother was begun by Rabbi Asche, who died A.D. 427, and completed by\nhis disciples and followers about the year 500, which together with the\nMishna formed the Babylonian Talmud. Both versions were first printed at\nVenice in the 16th century--the Jerusalem Talmud, in one folio volume,\nabout the year 1523; and the Babylonian Talmud, in twelve folio volumes,\n1520-30. In the 12th century Moses Maimonides, a Spanish Rabbi, made an\nepitome, or digest, of all the laws and institutions of the Talmud.\nSuch, in brief, is the origin and history of this famed compilation,\nwhich has been aptly described as an extraordinary monument of human\nindustry, human wisdom, and human folly.\n\nBy far the greater portion of the Talmud is devoted to the ceremonial\nlaw, as preserved by oral tradition in the manner above explained; but\nit also comprises innumerable sayings or aphorisms of celebrated Rabbis,\ntogether with narratives of the most varied character--legends regarding\nBiblical personages, moral tales, fables, parables, and facetious\nstories. Of the rabbinical legends, many are extremely puerile and\nabsurd, and may rank with the extravagant and incredible monkish legends\nof mediaeval times; some, however, are characterised by a richness of\nhumour which one would hardly expect to meet with in such a work; while\nnot a few of the parables, fables, and tales are strikingly beautiful,\nand will favourably compare with the same class of fictions composed by\nthe ancient sages of Hindustan.\n\nIt is a singular circumstance, and significant as well as singular, that\nwhile the Hebrew Talmud was, as Dr. Barclay remarks, \"periodically\nbanned and often publicly burned, from the age of the Emperor Justinian\ntill the time of Pope Clement VIII,\" several of the best stories in the\n_Gesta Romanorum_, a collection of moral tales (or tales \"moralised\")\nwhich were read in Christian churches throughout Europe during the\nMiddle Ages, are derived mediately or immediately from this great\nstorehouse of rabbinical learning.[55]\n\n   [55] In midsummer, 1244, twenty waggon loads of copies of the\n        Talmud were burnt in France. This was in consequence of,\n        and four years after, a public dispute between a certain\n        Donin (afterwards called Nicolaus), a converted Jew,\n        with Rabbi Yehiel, of Paris, on the contents of the\n        Talmud.--See _Journal of Philology_, vol. xvi, p.\n        133.--In the year 1569, the famous Jewish library in\n        Cremona was plundered, and 12,000 copies of the Talmud\n        and other Jewish works were committed to the\n        flames.--_The Talmud_, by Joseph Barclay, LL.D., London,\n        1875, p. 14.\n\nThe traducers of the Talmud, among other false assertions, have\nrepresented the Rabbis as holding their own work as more important than\neven the Old Testament itself, and as fostering among the Jewish people a\nspirit of intolerance towards all persons outside the pale of the Hebrew\nreligion. In proof of the first assertion they cite the following passage\nfrom the Talmud: \"The Bible is like water, the Mishna, like wine, the\nGemara, spiced wine; the Law, like salt, the Mishna, pepper, the Gemara,\nbalmy spice.\" But surely only a very shallow mind could conceive from\nthese similitudes that the Rabbis rated the importance of the Bible as\nless than that of the Talmud; yet an English Church clergyman, in an\narticle published in a popular periodical a few years since, reproduced\nthis passage in proof of rabbinical presumption--evidently in ignorance\nof the peculiar style of Oriental metaphor. What is actually taught by\nthe Rabbis in the passage in question, regarding the comparative merits\nof the Bible and the Talmud, is this: The Bible is like water, the Law is\nlike salt; now, water and salt are indispensable to mankind. The Mishna\nis like wine and pepper--luxuries, not necessaries of life; while the\nGemara is like spiced wine and balmy spices--still more refined luxuries,\nbut not necessaries, like water and salt.\n\nWith regard to the accusation of intolerance brought against the Rabbis,\nit is worse than a misconception of words or phrases; it is a gross\ncalumny, the more reprehensible if preferred by those who are acquainted\nwith the teachings of the Talmud, since they are thus guilty of wilfully\nsuppressing the truth. In the following passages a broad, humane spirit\nof toleration is clearly inculcated:\n\n\"It is our duty to maintain the heathen poor along with those of our own\nnation.\"\n\n\"We must visit their sick, and administer to their relief, bury their\ndead,\" and so forth.\n\n\"The heathens that dwell out of the land of Israel ought not to be\nconsidered as idolators, since they only follow the customs of their\nfathers.\"\n\n\"The pious men of the heathen will have their portion in the next\nworld.\"\n\n\"It is unlawful to deceive or over-reach any one, not even a heathen.\"\n\n\"Be circumspect in the fear of the Lord, soft in speech, slow in wrath,\nkind and friendly to all, even to the heathen.\"\n\nAlluding to the laws inimical to the heathen, Rabbi Mosha says: \"What\nwise men have said in this respect was directed against the ancient\nidolators, who believed neither in a creation nor in a deliverance from\nEgypt; but the nations among whom we live, whose protection we enjoy,\nmust not be considered in this light, since they believe in a creation,\nthe divine origin of the law, and many other fundamental doctrines of\nour religion. It is, therefore, not only our duty to shelter them\nagainst actual danger, but to pray for their welfare and the prosperity\nof their respective governments.\"[56]\n\n   [56] Introductory Essay to _Hebrew Tales_, by Hyman Hurwitz;\n        published at London in 1826.\n\nLet the impartial reader compare these teachings of the Rabbis with the\nintolerant doctrines and practices of Christian pastors, even in modern\ntimes as well as during the Middle Ages: when they taught that out of\nthe pale of the Church there could be no salvation; that no faith should\nbe kept with heretics, or infidels: when Catholics persecuted\nProtestants, and Protestants retaliated upon Catholics:\n\n  Christians have burned each other, quite persuaded\n  That all the Apostles would have done as they did!\n\nIt will probably occur to most readers, in connection with the\nrabbinical doctrine, that it is unlawful to over-reach any one, that the\nJews appear to have long ignored such maxims of morality. But it should\nbe remembered that if they have earned for themselves, by their\nchicanery in mercantile transactions, an evil reputation, their\nancestors in the bad old times were goaded into the practice of\nover-reaching by cunning those Christian sovereigns and nobles who\nrobbed them of their property by force and cruel tortures. Moreover,\nwhere are the people to be found whose daily actions are in accordance\nwith the religion they profess? At least, the Rabbis, unlike the\nspiritual teachers of mediaeval Europe, did not openly inculcate immoral\ndoctrines.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nLEGENDS OF SOME BIBLICAL CHARACTERS.\n\n\nThere is, no doubt, very much in the Talmud that possesses a recondite,\nspiritual meaning; but it would likely puzzle the most ingenious and\nlearned modern Rabbis to construe into mystical allegories such absurd\nlegends regarding Biblical personages as the following:\n\n\n_Adam and Eve._\n\nAdam's body, according to the Jewish Fathers, was formed of the earth of\nBabylon, his head of the land of Israel, and his other members of other\nparts of the world. Originally his stature reached the firmament, but\nafter his fall the Creator, laying his hand upon him, lessened him very\nconsiderably.[57] Mr Hershon, in his _Talmudic Miscellany_, says there\nis a notion among the Rabbis that Adam was at first possessed of a\nbi-sexual organisation, and this conclusion they draw from Genesis i,\n27, where it is said: \"God created man in his own image, male-female\ncreated he him.\"[58] These two natures it was thought lay side by side;\naccording to some, the male on the right and the female on the left;\naccording to others, back to back; while there were those who maintained\nthat Adam was created with a _tail_, and that it was from this appendage\nthat Eve was fashioned![59] Other Jewish traditions (continues Mr.\nHershon) inform us that Eve was made from the thirteenth rib of the\nright side, and that she was not drawn out by the head, lest she should\nbe vain; nor by the eyes, lest she should be wanton; nor by the mouth,\nlest she should be given to garrulity; nor by the ears, lest she should\nbe an eavesdropper; nor by the hands, lest she should be intermeddling;\nnor by the feet, lest she should be a gadder; nor by the heart, lest she\nshould be jealous;--but she was taken out from the side: yet, in spite\nof all these precautions, she had every one of the faults so carefully\nguarded against!\n\n   [57] Commentators on the Kuran say that Adam's beard did not\n        grow till after his fall, and it was the result of his\n        excessive sorrow and penitence. Strange to say, he was\n        ashamed of his beard, till he heard a voice from heaven\n        calling to him and saying: \"The beard is man's ornament\n        on earth; it distinguishes him from the feeble woman.\"\n        Thus we ought to--should we not?--regard our beards as\n        the offshoots of what divines term \"original sin\"; and\n        cherish them as mementoes of the Fall of Man. Think of\n        this, ye effeminate ones who use the razor!\n\n   [58] The notion of man being at first androgynous, or\n        man-woman, was prevalent in most of the countries of\n        antiquity. Mr. Baring-Gould says that \"the idea, that\n        man without woman and woman without man are imperfect\n        beings, was the cause of the great repugnance with which\n        the Jews and other nations of the East regarded\n        celibacy.\" (_Legends of the Old Testament_, vol. i, p.\n        22.) But this, I think, is not very probable. The\n        aversion of Asiatics from celibacy is rather to be\n        ascribed to their surroundings in primitive times, when\n        neighbouring clans were almost constantly at war with\n        each other, and those chiefs and notables who had the\n        greatest number of sturdy and valiant sons and grandsons\n        would naturally be best able to hold their own against\n        an enemy. The system of concubinage, which seems to have\n        existed in the East from very remote times, is not\n        matrimony, and undoubtedly had its origin in the\n        passionate desire which, even at the present day, every\n        Asiatic has for male offspring. By far the most common\n        opening of an Eastern tale is the statement that there\n        was a certain king, wise, wealthy, and powerful, but\n        though he had many beautiful wives and handmaidens,\n        Heaven had not yet blest him with a son, and in\n        consequence of this all his life was embittered, and he\n        knew no peace day or night.\n\n   [59] Professor Charles Marelle, of Berlin, in an interesting\n        little collection, _Affenschwanz, &c.; Variants orales\n        de Contes Populaires, Francais et Etrangers_\n        (Braunschweig, 1888), gives an amusing story, based\n        evidently on this rabbinical legend: The woman formed\n        from Adam's tail proved to be as mischievous as a\n        monkey, and gave her spouse no peace; whereupon another\n        was formed from a part of his breast, and she was a\n        decided improvement on her sister. All the giddy girls\n        in the world are descended from the woman who was made\n        from Adam's tail.\n\nAdam's excuse for eating of the forbidden fruit, \"She gave me of the\ntree and I did eat,\" is said to be thus ingeniously explained by the\nlearned Rabbis: By giving him of the _tree_ is meant that Eve took a\nstout crab-tree cudgel, and gave her husband (in plain English) a sound\nrib-roasting, until he complied with her will!--The lifetime of Adam,\naccording to the Book of Genesis, ch. v, 5, was nine hundred and thirty\nyears, for which the following legend (reproduced by the Muslim\ntraditionists) satisfactorily accounts: The Lord showed to Adam every\nfuture generation, with their heads, sages, and scribes.[60] He saw that\nDavid was destined to live only three hours, and said: \"Lord and Creator\nof the world, is this unalterably fixed?\" The Lord answered: \"It was my\noriginal design.\" \"How many years shall I live?\" \"One thousand.\" \"Are\ngrants known in heaven?\" \"Certainly.\" \"I grant then seventy years of my\nlife to David.\" What did Adam therefore do? He gave a written grant, set\nhis seal to it, and the same was done by the Lord and Metatron.\n\n   [60] You and I, good reader, must therefore have been seen by\n        the Father of Mankind.\n\nThe body of Adam was taken into the ark by Noah, and when at last it\ngrounded on the summit of Mount Ararat [which it certainly never did!],\nNoah and his three sons removed the body, \"and they followed an angel,\nwho led them to a place where the First Father was to lie. Shem (or\nMelchizidek, for they are one), being consecrated by God to the\npriesthood, performed the religious rites, and buried Adam at the centre\nof the earth, which is Jerusalem. But some say he was buried by Shem,\nalong with Eve in the cave of Machpelah in Hebron; others relate that\nNoah on leaving the ark distributed the bones of Adam among his sons,\nand that he gave the head to Shem, who buried it in Jerusalem.\"[61]\n\n   [61] _Legends of Old Testament Characters_, by S.\n        Baring-Gould, vol. i, pp. 78, 79.\n\n\n_Cain and Abel._\n\nThe Hebrew commentators are not agreed regarding the cause of Cain's\nenmity towards his brother Abel. According to one tradition, Cain and\nAbel divided the whole world between them, one taking the moveable and\nthe other the immoveable possessions. One day Cain said to his brother:\n\"The earth on which thou standest is mine; therefore betake thyself to\nthe air.\" Abel rejoined: \"The garment which thou dost wear is mine;\ntherefore take it off.\" From this there arose a conflict between them,\nwhich resulted in Abel's death. Rabbi Huna teaches, however, that they\ncontended for a twin sister of Abel; the latter claimed her because she\nwas born along with him, while Cain pleaded his right of primogeniture.\nAfter Adam's first-born had taken his brother's life, the sheep-dog of\nAbel faithfully guarded his master's corpse from the attacks of beasts\nand birds of prey. Adam and Eve also sat near the body of their pious\nson, weeping bitterly, and not knowing how to dispose of his lifeless\nclay. At length a raven, whose mate had lately died, said to itself: \"I\nwill go and show to Adam what he must do with his son's body,\" and\naccordingly scooped a hole in the ground and laid the dead raven\ntherein, and covered it with earth. This having been observed by Adam,\nhe likewise buried the body of Abel. For this service rendered to our\ngreat progenitor, we are told, the Deity rewarded the raven, and no one\nis allowed to injure its young: \"they have food in abundance, and their\ncry for rain is always heard.\"[62]\n\n   [62] The Muhammedan legend informs us that Cain was\n        afterwards slain by the blood-avenging angel. But the\n        Jewish traditionists say that God was at length moved by\n        Cain's contrition and placed on his brow a seal, which\n        indicated that the fratricide was fully pardoned. Adam\n        happened to meet him, and observing the seal on his\n        forehead, asked him how he had turned aside the wrath of\n        God. He replied: \"By confession of my sin and sincere\n        repentance.\" On hearing this Adam exclaimed, beating his\n        breast: \"Woe is me! Is the virtue of repentance so great\n        and I knew it not?\"\n\n\n_The Planting of the Vine._\n\nWhen Noah planted the vine, say the Rabbis, Satan slew a sheep, a lion,\nan ape, and a sow, and buried the carcases under it; and hence the four\nstages from sobriety to absolute drunkenness: Before a man begins to\ndrink, he is meek and innocent as a lamb, and as a sheep in the hand of\nthe shearer is dumb; when he has drank enough, he is fearless as a lion,\nand says there is no one like him in the world; in the next stage, he is\nlike an ape, and dances, jests, and talks nonsense, knowing not what he\nis doing and saying; when thoroughly drunken, he wallows in the mire\nlike a sow.[63] To this legend Chaucer evidently alludes in the Prologue\nto the Maniciple's Tale:\n\n  I trow that ye have dronken _wine of ape_,\n  And that is when men plaien at a strawe.\n\n   [63] A garbled version of this legend is found in the Latin\n        _Gesta Romanorum_ (it does not occur in the Anglican\n        versions edited by Sir F. Madden for the Roxburghe Club,\n        and by Mr. S. J. Herrtage for the Early English Text\n        Society), Tale 179, as follows: \"Josephus, in his work\n        on 'The Causes of Things,' says that Noah discovered the\n        vine in a wood, and because it was bitter he took the\n        blood of four animals, viz., of a lion, a lamb, a pig,\n        and a monkey. This mixture he united with earth and made\n        a kind of manure, which he deposited at the roots of the\n        trees. Thus the blood sweetened the fruit, with the\n        juice of which he afterwards intoxicated himself, and\n        lying naked was derided by his youngest son.\"\n\n\n_Luminous Jewels._\n\nReaders of that most fascinating collection of Eastern tales, commonly\nbut improperly called the _Arabian Nights' Entertainments_, must be\nfamiliar with the remarkable property there ascribed to certain gems, of\nfurnishing light in the absence of the sun. Possibly the Arabians\nadopted this notion from the Rabbis, in whose legends jewels are\nfrequently represented as possessing the light-giving property. For\nexample, we learn that Noah and his family, while in the ark, had no\nlight besides what was obtained from diamonds and other precious stones.\nAnd Abraham, who, it appears, was extremely jealous of his wives, built\nfor them an enchanted city, of which the walls were so high as to shut\nout the light of the sun; an inconvenience which he easily remedied by\nmeans of a large basin full of rubies and other jewels, which shed forth\na flood of light equal in brilliancy to that of the sun itself.[64]\n\n   [64] Luminous jewels figure frequently in Eastern tales, and\n        within recent years, from experiments and observations,\n        the phosphorescence of the diamond, sapphire, ruby, and\n        topaz has been fully established.\n\n\n_Abraham's Arrival in Egypt._\n\nWhen Abraham journeyed to Egypt he had among his _impedimenta_ a large\nchest. On reaching the gates of the capital the customs officials\ndemanded the usual duties. Abraham begged them to name the sum without\ntroubling themselves to open the chest. They demanded to be paid the\nduty on clothes. \"I will pay for clothes,\" said the patriarch, with an\nalacrity which aroused the suspicions of the officials, who then\ninsisted upon being paid the duty on silk. \"I will pay for silk,\" said\nAbraham. Hereupon the officials demanded the duty on gold, and Abraham\nreadily offered to pay the amount. Then they surmised that the chest\ncontained jewels, but Abraham was quite as willing to pay the higher\nduty on gems, and now the curiosity of the officials could be no longer\nrestrained. They broke open the chest, when, lo, their eyes were dazzled\nwith the lustrous beauty of Sarah! Abraham, it seems, had adopted this\nplan for smuggling his lovely wife into the Egyptian dominions.\n\n\n_The Infamous Citizens of Sodom._\n\nSome of the rabbinical legends descriptive of the singular customs of\nthe infamous citizens of Sodom are exceedingly amusing--or amazing. The\njudges of that city are represented as notorious liars and mockers of\njustice. When a man had cut off the ear of his neighbour's ass, the\njudge said to the owner: \"Let him have the ass till the ear is grown\nagain, that it may be returned to thee as thou wishest.\" The hospitality\nshown by the citizens to strangers within their gates was of a very\npeculiar kind. They had a particular bed for the weary traveller who\nentered their city and desired shelter for the night. If he was found to\nbe too long for the bed, they reduced him to the proper size by chopping\noff so much of his legs; and if he was shorter than the bed, he was\nstretched to the requisite length.[65] To preserve their reputation for\nhospitality, when a stranger arrived each citizen was required to give\nhim a coin with his name written on it, after which the unfortunate\ntraveller was refused food, and as soon as he had died of hunger every\nman took back his own money. It was a capital offence for any one to\nsupply the stranger with food, in proof of which it is recorded that a\npoor man, having arrived in Sodom, was presented with money and refused\nfood by all to whom he made his wants known. It chanced that, as he lay\nby the roadside almost starved to death, he was observed by one of Lot's\ndaughters, who had compassion on him, and supplied him with food for\nmany days, as she went to draw water for her father's household. The\ncitizens, marvelling at the man's tenacity of life, set a person to\nwatch him, and Lot's daughter being discovered bringing him bread, she\nwas condemned to death by burning. Another kind-hearted maiden who had\nin like manner relieved the wants of a stranger, was punished in a still\nmore dreadful manner, being smeared over with honey, and stung to death\nby bees.\n\n   [65] Did the Talmudist borrow this story from the Greek\n        legend of the famous robber of Attica, Procrustes, who\n        is said to have treated unlucky travellers after the\n        same barbarous fashion?\n\nIt may be naturally supposed that travellers who were acquainted with\nthe peculiar ways of the citizens of Sodom would either pass by that\ncity without entering its inhospitable gates, or, if compelled by\nbusiness to go into the town, would previously provide themselves with\nfood; but even this last precaution did not avail them against the wiles\nof those wicked people: A man from Elam, journeying to a place beyond\nSodom, reached the infamous city about sunset. The stranger had with him\nan ass, bearing a valuable saddle to which was strapped a large bale of\nmerchandise. Being refused a lodging by each citizen of whom he asked\nthe favour, our traveller made a virtue of necessity, and determined to\npass the night, along with his animal and his goods, as best he might,\nin the streets. His preparations with this view were observed by a\ncunning and treacherous citizen, named Hidud, who came up, and,\naccosting him courteously, desired to know whence he had come and\nwhither he was bound. The stranger answered that he had come from\nHebron, and was journeying to such a place; that, being refused shelter\nby everybody, he was preparing to pass the night in the streets; and\nthat he was provided with bread for his own use and with fodder for his\nbeast. Upon this Hidud invited the stranger to his house, assuring him\nthat his lodging should cost him nothing, while the wants of his beast\nshould not be forgotten. The stranger accepted of Hidud's proffered\nhospitality, and when they came to his house the citizen relieved the\nass of the saddle and merchandise, and carefully placed them for\nsecurity in his private closet. He then led the ass into his stable and\namply supplied him with provender; and returning to the house, he set\nfood before his guest, who, having supped, retired to rest. Early in the\nmorning the stranger arose, intending to resume his journey, but his\nhost first pressed him to partake of breakfast, and afterwards persuaded\nhim to remain at his house for two days. On the morning of the third day\nour traveller would no longer delay his departure, and Hidud therefore\nbrought out his beast, saying kindly to his guest: \"Fare thee well.\"\n\"Hold!\" said the traveller. \"Where is my beautiful saddle of many\ncolours and the strings attached thereto, together with my bale of rich\nmerchandise?\" \"What sayest thou?\" exclaimed Hidud, in a tone of\nsurprise. The stranger repeated his demand for his saddle and goods.\n\"Ah,\" said Hidud, affably, \"I will interpret thy dream: the strings that\nthou hast dreamt of indicate length of days to thee; and the\nmany-coloured saddle of thy dream signifies that thou shalt become the\nowner of a beauteous garden of odorous flowers and rich fruit trees.\"\n\"Nay,\" returned the stranger, \"I certainly entrusted to thy care a\nsaddle and merchandise, and thou hast concealed them in thy house.\"\n\"Well,\" said Hidud, \"I have told thee the meaning of thy dream. My usual\nfee for interpreting a dream is four pieces of silver, but, as thou hast\nbeen my guest, I will only ask three pieces of thee.\" On hearing this\nvery unjust demand the stranger was naturally enraged, and he accused\nHidud in the court of Sodom of stealing his property. After each had\nstated his case, the judge decreed that the stranger must pay Hidud's\nfee, since he was well known as a professional interpreter of dreams.\nHidud then said to the stranger: \"As thou hast proved thyself such a\nliar, I must not only be paid my usual fee of four pieces of silver, but\nalso the value of the two days' food with which I provided thee in my\nhouse.\" \"I will cheerfully pay thee for the food,\" rejoined the\ntraveller, \"on condition that thou restore my saddle and merchandise.\"\nUpon this the litigants began to abuse each other and were thrust into\nthe street, where the citizens, siding with Hidud, soundly beat the\nunlucky stranger, and then expelled him from the city.\n\nAbraham once sent his servant Eliezer to Sodom with his compliments to\nLot and his family, and to inquire concerning their welfare. As Eliezer\nentered Sodom he saw a citizen beating a stranger, whom he had robbed of\nhis property. \"Shame upon thee!\" exclaimed Eliezer to the citizen. \"Is\nthis the way you act towards strangers?\" To this remonstrance the man\nreplied by picking up a stone and striking Eliezer with it on the\nforehead with such force as to cause the blood to flow down his face. On\nseeing the blood the citizen caught hold of Eliezer and demanded to be\npaid his fee for having freed him of impure blood. \"What!\" said Eliezer,\n\"am I to pay thee for wounding me?\" \"Such is our law,\" returned the\ncitizen. Eliezer refused to pay, and the man brought him before the\njudge, to whom he made his complaint. The judge then decreed: \"Thou must\npay this man his fee, since he has let thy blood; such is our law.\"\n\"There, then,\" said Eliezer, striking the judge with a stone, and\ncausing him to bleed, \"pay my fee to this man, I want it not,\" and then\ndeparted from the court.[66]\n\n   [66] There are two Italian stories which bear some\n        resemblance to this queer legend: In the fourth novel of\n        Arienti an advocate is fined for striking his opponent\n        in court, and \"takes his change\" by repeating the\n        offence; and in the second novel of Sozzini, Scacazzone,\n        after dining sumptuously at an inn, and learning from\n        the waiter that the law of that town imposed a fine of\n        ten livres for a blow on the face, provokes the landlord\n        so that he gets a slap from him on the cheek, upon which\n        he tells Boniface to pay himself out of the fine he\n        should have had to pay for the blow if charged before\n        the magistrate, and give the rest of the money to the\n        waiter.--A similar story is told in an Arabian\n        collection, of a half-witted fellow and the kazi.\n\n\n_Abraham and Ishmael's Wife._\n\nHagar, the handmaid of Sarah, was given as a slave to Abraham, by her\nfather, Pharaoh, king of Egypt, who said: \"My daughter had better be a\nslave in the house of Abraham than mistress in any other house.\" Her son\nIshmael, it is said, took unto himself a wife of the daughters of Moab.\nThree years afterwards Abraham set out to visit his son, having solemnly\npromised Sarah (who, it thus appears, was still jealous of her former\nhandmaid) that he would not alight from his camel. He reached Ishmael's\nhouse about noontide, and found his wife alone. \"Where is Ishmael?\"\ninquired the patriarch. \"He is gone into the wilderness with his mother\nto gather dates and other fruits.\" \"Give me, I pray thee, a little bread\nand water, for I am fatigued with travelling.\" \"I have neither bread nor\nwater,\" rejoined the inhospitable matron. \"Well,\" said the patriarch,\n\"tell Ishmael when he comes home that an old man came to see him, and\nrecommends him to change the door-post of his house, for it is not\nworthy of him.\" On Ishmael's return she gave him the message, from which\nhe at once understood that the stranger was his father, and that he did\nnot approve of his wife. Accordingly he sent her back to her own people,\nand Hagar procured him a wife from her father's house. Her name was\nFatima.\n\nAnother period of three years having elapsed, Abraham again resolved to\nvisit his son; and having, as before, pledged his word to Sarah that he\nwould not alight at Ishmael's house, he began his journey. When he\narrived at his son's domicile he found Fatima alone, Ishmael being\nabroad, as on the occasion of his previous visit. But from Fatima he\nreceived every attention, albeit she knew not that he was her husband's\nfather. Highly gratified with Fatima's hospitality, the patriarch called\ndown blessings upon Ishmael, and returned home. Fatima duly informed\nIshmael of what had happened in his absence, and then he knew that\nAbraham still loved him as his son.\n\nThis is one of the few rabbinical legends regarding Biblical characters\nwhich do not exceed the limits of probability; and I confess I can see\nno reason why these interesting incidents should be considered as purely\nimaginary. As a rule, however, the Talmudic legends of this kind must be\ntaken not only _cum grano salis_, but with a whole bushel of that most\nnecessary commodity, particularly such marvellous relations as that of\nRabbi Jehoshua, when he informs us that the \"ram caught in a thicket,\"\nwhich served as a substitute for sacrifice when Abraham was prepared to\noffer up his son Isaac, was brought by an angel out of Paradise, where\nit pastured under the Tree of Life and drank from the brook which flows\nbeneath it. This creature, the Rabbi adds, diffused its perfume\nthroughout the world.[67]\n\n   [67] The commentators on the Kuran have adopted this legend.\n        But according to the Kuran it was not Isaac, but\n        Ishmael, the great progenitor of the Arabs, who was to\n        be sacrificed by Abraham.\n\n\n_Joseph and Potiphar's Wife._\n\nThe story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife, as related in the Book of\nGenesis, finds parallels in the popular tales and legends of many\ncountries: the vengeance of \"woman whose love is scorned,\" says a Hindu\nwriter, \"is worse than poison\"! But the rabbinical version is quite\nunique in representing the wife of Potiphar as having aiders and\nabettors in carrying out her scheme of revenge: For some days after the\npious young Israelite had declined her amorous overtures, she looked so\nill that her female friends inquired of her the cause, and having told\nthem of her adventure with Joseph, they said: \"Accuse him before thy\nhusband, that he may be cast into prison.\" She desired them to accuse\nhim likewise to their husbands, which they did accordingly; and their\nhusbands went before Pharaoh and complained of Joseph's misconduct\ntowards their wives.[68]\n\n   [68] Commentators on the Kuran inform us that when Joseph was\n        released from prison, after so satisfactorily\n        interpreting Pharaoh's two dreams, Potiphar was degraded\n        from his high office. One day, while Joseph was riding\n        out to inspect a granary beyond the city, he observed a\n        beggar-woman in the street, whose whole appearance,\n        though most distressing, bore distinct traces of former\n        greatness. Joseph approached her compassionately, and\n        held out to her a handful of gold. But she refused it,\n        and said aloud: \"Great prophet of Allah, I am unworthy\n        of this gift, although my transgression has been the\n        stepping-stone to thy present fortune.\" At these words\n        Joseph regarded her more closely, and, behold, it was\n        Zulaykha, the wife of his lord. He inquired after her\n        husband, and was told that he had died of sorrow and\n        poverty soon after his deposition. On hearing this,\n        Joseph led Zulaykha to a relative of the king, by whom\n        she was treated like a sister, and she soon appeared to\n        him as blooming as at the time of his entrance into her\n        house. He asked her hand of the king, and married her,\n        with his permission.\n\n        Zulaykha was the name of Potiphar's wife, if we may\n        believe Muhammedan legends, and the daughter of the king\n        of Maghrab (or Marocco), who gave her in marriage to the\n        grand vazir of the king of Egypt, and the beauteous\n        princess was disgusted to find him, not only very old,\n        but, as a modest English writer puts it, very mildly,\n        \"belonged to that unhappy class which a practice of\n        immemorial antiquity in the East excluded from the\n        pleasures of love and the hope of posterity.\" This\n        device of representing Potiphar as being what Byron\n        styles \"a neutral personage\" was, of course, adopted by\n        Muslim traditionists and poets in order to \"white-wash\"\n        the frail Zulaykha.--There are extant many Persian and\n        Turkish poems on the \"loves\" of _Yusuf wa Zulaykha_,\n        most of them having a mystical signification, and that\n        by the celebrated Persian poet Jami is universally\n        considered as by far the best.\n\n\n_Joseph and his Brethren._\n\nWonderful stories are related of Joseph and his brethren. Simeon, if we\nmay credit the Talmudists, must have been quite a Hercules in strength.\nThe Biblical narrative of Simeon's detention by his brother Joseph is\nbrief but most expressive: \"And he turned himself about from them and\nwept; and returned to them again, and communed with them, and took from\nthem Simeon, and bound him before their eyes.\"[69] The Talmudists\ncondescend more minutely regarding this interesting incident: When\nJoseph ordered seventy valiant men to put Simeon in chains, they had no\nsooner approached him than he roared so loud that all the seventy fell\ndown at his feet and broke their teeth! Joseph then said to his son\nManasseh: \"Chain thou him\"; whereupon Manasseh dealt Simeon a single\nblow and immediately overpowered him; upon which Simeon exclaimed:\n\"Surely this was the blow of a kinsman!\"--When Joseph sent Benjamin to\nprison, Judah cried so loud that Chushim, the son of Dan, heard him in\nCanaan and responded. Joseph feared for his life, for Judah was so\nenraged that he wept blood. Some say that Judah wore five garments, one\nover the other; but when he was angry his heart swelled so much that his\nfive garments burst open. Joseph cried so terribly that one of the\npillars of his house fell in and was changed into sand. Then Judah said:\n\"He is valiant, like one of us.\"\n\n   [69] Gen. xlii, 24.--It does not appear from the sacred\n        narrative why Joseph selected his brother Simeon as\n        hostage. Possibly Simeon was most eager for his death,\n        before he was cast into the dry well and then sold to\n        the Ishmaelites; and indeed both he and his brother Levi\n        seem to have been \"a bad lot,\" judging from the dying\n        Jacob's description of them, Gen. xlix, 5-7.\n\n\n_Jacob's Sorrow._\n\nBut like a gem, among a heap of rubbish is the touching little story of\nhow the news of Joseph's being alive and the viceroy of Egypt was\nconveyed to the aged and sorrow-stricken Jacob. When the brethren had\nreturned to the land of Canaan, after their second expedition, they were\nperplexed how to communicate to their father the joyful intelligence\nthat his long-lamented son still lived, fearing it might have a fatal\neffect on the old man if suddenly told to him. At length Serach, the\ndaughter of Asher, proposed that she should convey the tidings to her\ngrandfather in a song. Accordingly she took her harp, and sang to Jacob\nthe whole story of Joseph's life and his present greatness, and her\nmusic soothed his spirit; and when he fully realised that his son was\nyet alive, he fervently blessed her, and she was taken into Paradise,\nwithout tasting of death.[70]\n\n   [70] \"Jacob's grief\" is proverbial in Muslim countries. In\n        the Kuran, _sura_ xii, it is stated that the patriarch\n        became totally blind through constant weeping for the\n        loss of Joseph, and that his sight was restored by means\n        of Joseph's garment, which the governor of Egypt sent by\n        his brethren.--In the _Makamat_ of Al-Hariri, the\n        celebrated Arabian poet (A.D. 1054-1122), Harith bin\n        Hamman is represented as saying that he passed a night\n        of \"Jacobean sorrow,\" and another imaginary character is\n        said to have \"wept more than Jacob when he lost his\n        son.\"\n\n\n_Moses and Pharaoh._\n\nThe slaughter of the Hebrew male children by the cruel command of the\n\"Pharoah who knew not Joseph\" was a precaution adopted, we are informed\nby the Rabbis, in consequence of a dream which that monarch had, of an\naged man who held a balance in his right hand; in one scale he placed\nall the sages and nobles of Egypt, and in the other a little lamb, which\nweighed down them all. In the morning Pharaoh told his strange dream to\nhis counsellors, who were greatly terrified, and Bi'lam, the son of\nBeor, the magician, said: \"This dream, O King, forebodes great\naffliction, which one of the children of Israel will bring upon Egypt.\"\nThe king asked the soothsayer whether this threatened evil might not be\navoided. \"There is but one way of averting the calamity--cause every\nmale child of Hebrew parents to be slain at birth.\" Pharaoh approved of\nthis advice, and issued an edict accordingly. The Egyptian monarch's\nkind-hearted daughter (whose name, by the way, was Bathia), who rescued\nthe infant Moses from the common fate of the Hebrew male children, was a\nleper, and consequently was not permitted to use the warm baths. But no\nsooner had she stretched forth her hand to the crying infant than she\nwas healed of her leprosy, and, moreover, afterwards admitted bodily\ninto Paradise.[71]\n\n   [71] Muslims say that Pharaoh's seven daughters were all\n        lepers, and that Bathia's sisters, as well as herself,\n        were cured through her saving the infant Moses.\n\n        According to the Hebrew traditionists, nine human beings\n        entered Paradise without having tasted of death, viz.:\n        Enoch; Messiah; Elias; Eliezer, the servant of Abraham;\n        the servant of the king of Kush; Hiram, king of Tyre;\n        Jaabez, the son of the Prince, and the Rabbi, Juda;\n        Serach, the daughter of Asher; and Bathia, the daughter\n        of Pharaoh.\n\n        The last of the race of genuine Dublin ballad-singers,\n        who rejoiced in the _nom de guerre_ of \"Zozimus\" (ob.\n        1846), used to edify his street patrons with a slightly\n        different reading of the romantic story of the finding\n        of Moses in the bulrushes, which has the merit of\n        striking originality, to say the least:\n\n          In Egypt's land, upon the banks of Nile,\n          King Pharaoh's daughter went to bathe in style;\n          She tuk her dip, then went unto the land,\n          And, to dry her royal pelt, she ran along the strand.\n          A bulrush tripped her, whereupon she saw\n          A smiling babby in a wad of straw;\n          She tuk it up, and said, in accents mild,\n          \"_Tare an' agers, gyurls, which av yez owns this child?_\"\n\n        The story of the finding of Moses has its parallels in\n        almost every country--in the Greek and Roman legends of\n        Perseus, Cyrus, and Romulus--in Indian, Persian, and\n        Arabian tales--and a Babylonian analogue is given, as\n        follows, by the Rev. A. H. Sayce, in the _Folk-Lore\n        Journal_ for 1883: \"Sargon, the mighty monarch, the king\n        of Agane, am I. My mother was a princess; my father I\n        knew not. My father's brother loved the mountain land.\n        In the city of Azipiranu, which on the bank of the\n        Euphrates lies, my mother, the princess, conceived me;\n        in an inacessible spot she brought me forth. She placed\n        me in a basket of rushes; with bitumen the door of my\n        ark she closed. She launched me on the river, which\n        drowned me not. The river bore me along; to Akki, the\n        irrigator, it brought me. Akki, the irrigator, in the\n        tenderness of his heart, lifted me up. Then Akki, the\n        irrigator, as his gardener appointed me, and in my\n        gardenership the goddess Istar loved me. For forty-five\n        years the kingdom I have ruled, and the black-headed\n        (Akkadian) race have governed.\"\n\nOf the childhood of Moses a curious story is told to account for his\nbeing in after life \"slow of speech and slow of tongue\": Pharaoh was one\nday seated in his banqueting hall, with his queen at his right hand and\nBathia at his left, and around him were his two sons, Bi'lam, the chief\nsoothsayer, and other dignitaries of his court, when he took little\nMoses (then three years old) upon his knee, and began to fondle him. The\nHebrew urchin stretched forth his hand and took the kingly crown from\nPharaoh's brow and deliberately placed it upon his own head. To the\nmonarch and his courtiers this action of the child was ominous, and\nPharaoh inquired of his counsellors how, in their judgment, the\naudacious little Hebrew should be punished. Bi'lam, the sooth-sayer,\nanswered: \"Do not suppose, O King, that this is necessarily the\nthoughtless action of a child; recollect thy dream which I did interpret\nfor thee. But let us prove whether this child is possessed of\nunderstanding beyond his years, in this manner: let two plates, one\ncontaining fire, the other gold, be placed before the child; and if he\ngrasp the gold, then is he of superior understanding, and should\ntherefore be put to death.\" The plates, as proposed by the soothsayer,\nwere placed before the child Moses, who immediately seized upon the\nfire, and put it into his mouth, which caused him henceforward to\nstammer in his speech.\n\nIt was no easy matter for Moses and his brother to gain access to\nPharaoh, for his palace had 400 gates, 100 on each side; and before each\ngate stood no fewer than 60,000 tried warriors. Therefore the angel\nGabriel introduced them by another way, and when Pharaoh beheld Moses\nand Aaron he demanded to know who had admitted them. He summoned the\nguards, and ordered some of them to be beaten and others to be put to\ndeath. But next day Moses and Aaron returned, and the guards, when\ncalled in, exclaimed: \"These men are sorcerers, for they cannot have\ncome in through any of the gates.\" There were, however, much more\nformidable guardians of the royal palace: the 400 gates were guarded by\nbears, lions, and other ferocious beasts, who suffered no one to pass\nunless they were fed with flesh. But when Moses and Aaron came, they\ngathered about them, and licked the feet of the prophets, accompanying\nthem to Pharaoh.--Readers who are familiar with the _Thousand and One\nNights_ and other Asiatic story-books will recollect many tales in which\npalaces are similarly guarded. In the spurious \"Canterbury\" _Tale of\nBeryn_ (taken from the first part of the old French romance of the\nChevalier Berinus), which has been re-edited for the Chaucer Society,\nthe palace-garden of Duke Isope is guarded by eight necromancers who\nlook like \"abominabill wormys, enough to frighte the hertiest man on\nerth,\" also by a white lion that had eaten five hundred men.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nLEGENDS OF DAVID AND SOLOMON, ETC.\n\n\nMuhammed, the great Arabian lawgiver, drew very largely from the\nrabbinical legends in his composition of the Kuran, every verse of which\nis considered by pious Muslims as a miracle, or wonder (_ayet_). The\nwell-known story of the spider weaving its web over the mouth of the\ncave in which Muhammed and Abu Bekr had concealed themselves in their\nflight from Mecca to Medina was evidently borrowed from the Talmudic\nlegend of David's flight from the malevolence of Saul: Immediately after\nDavid had entered the cave of Adullam, a spider spun its web across the\nopening. His pursuers presently passing that way were about to search\nthe cave; but perceiving the spider's web, they naturally concluded that\nno one could have recently entered there, and thus was the future king\nof Israel preserved from Saul's vengeance.\n\nKing David once had a narrow escape from death at the hands of Goliath's\nbrother Ishbi. The king was hunting one morning when Satan appeared\nbefore him in the form of a deer.[72] David drew his bow, but missed\nhim, and the feigned deer ran off at the top of his speed. The king,\nwith true sportsman's instinct, pursued the deer, even into the land of\nthe Philistines--which, doubtless, was Satan's object in assuming that\nform. It unluckily happened that Ishbi, the brother of Goliath,\nrecognised in the person of the royal hunter the slayer of the champion\nof Gath, and he immediately seized David, bound him neck and heels\ntogether, and laid him beneath his wine-press, designing to crush him to\ndeath. But, lo, the earth became soft, and the Philistine was baffled.\nMeanwhile, in the land of Israel a dove with silver wings was seen by\nthe courtiers of King David fluttering about, apparently in great\ndistress, which signified to the wise men that their royal master was in\ndanger of his life. Abishai, one of David's counsellors, at once\ndetermined to go and succour his sovereign, and accordingly mounted the\nking's horse, and in a few minutes was in the land of the Philistines.\nOn arriving at Ishbi's house, he discovered that gentleman's venerable\nmother spinning at the door. The old lady threw her distaff at the\nIsraelite, and, missing him, desired him to bring it back to her.\nAbishai returned it in such a manner that she never afterwards required\na distaff. This little incident was witnessed by Ishbi, who, resolving\nto rid himself of one of his enemies forthwith, took David from beneath\nthe wine-press, and threw him high into the air, expecting that he would\nfall upon his spear, which he had previously fixed into the ground. But\nAbishai pronounced the Great Name (often referred to in the Talmud), and\nDavid, in consequence, remained suspended between earth and sky. In the\nsequel they both unite against Ishbi, and put him to death.[73]\n\n   [72] That the arch-fiend could, and often did, assume various\n        forms to lure men to their destruction was universally\n        believed throughout Europe during mediaeval times and\n        even much later; generally he appeared in the form of a\n        most beautiful young woman; and there are still current\n        in obscure parts of Scotland wild legends of his having\n        thus tempted even godly men to sin.--In Asiatic tales\n        rakshasas, ghuls (ghouls), and such-like demons\n        frequently assume the appearance of heart-ravishing\n        damsels in order to delude and devour the unwary\n        traveller. In many of our old European romances fairies\n        are represented as transforming themselves into the\n        semblance of deer, to decoy into sequestered places\n        noble hunters of whom they had become enamoured.\n\n   [73] The \"Great Name\" (in Arabic, _El-Ism el-Aazam_, \"the\n        Most Great Name\"), by means of which King David was\n        saved from a cruel death, as above, is often employed in\n        Eastern romances for the rescue of the hero from deadly\n        peril, as well as to enable him to perform supernatural\n        exploits. It was generally engraved on a signet-ring,\n        but sometimes it was communicated orally to the\n        fortunate hero by a holy man, or by a king of the\n        genii--who was, of course, a good Muslim.\n\nOf Solomon the Wise there are, of course, many curious rabbinical\nlegends. His reputation for superior sagacity extended over all the\nworld, and the wisest men of other nations came humbly to him as pupils.\nIt would appear that this great monarch was not less willing to afford\nthe poorest of his subjects the benefit of his advice when they applied\nto him than able to solve the knottiest problem which the most\nkeen-witted casuist could propound. One morning a man, whose life was\nembittered by a froward, shrewish wife, left his house to seek the\nadvice of Solomon. On the road he overtook another man, with whom he\nentered into conversation, and presently learned that he was also going\nto the king's palace. \"Pray, friend,\" said he, \"what might be your\nbusiness with the king? I am going to ask him how I should manage a wife\nwho has long been froward.\" \"Why,\" said the other, \"I employ a great\nmany people, and have a great deal of capital invested in my business;\nyet I find I am losing more and more every year, instead of gaining; and\nI want to know the cause, and how it may be remedied.\" By-and-by they\novertook a third man, who informed them that he was a physician whose\npractice had fallen off considerably, and he was proceeding to ask King\nSolomon's advice as to how it might be increased. At length they reached\nthe palace, and it was arranged among them that the man who had the\nshrewish wife should first present himself before the king. In a short\ntime he rejoined his companions with a rather puzzled expression of\ncountenance, and the others inquiring how he had sped, he answered: \"I\ncan see no wisdom in the king's advice; he simply advised me to _go to a\nmill_.\" The second man then went in, and returned quite as much\nperplexed as the first, saying: \"Of a truth, Solomon is not so wise as\nhe is reported to be; would you believe it?--all he said to me when I\nhad told him my grievance was, _get up early in the morning_.\" The third\nman, somewhat discouraged by these apparently idle answers, entered the\npresence-chamber, and on coming out told his companions that the king\nhad simply advised him to _be proud_. Equally disappointed, the trio\nreturned homeward together. They had not gone far when one of them said\nto the first man: \"Here is a mill; did not the king advise you to go\ninto one?\" The man entered, and presently ran out, exclaiming: \"I've got\nit! I've got it! I am to beat my wife!\" He went home and gave his spouse\na sound thrashing, and she was ever afterwards a very obedient wife.[74]\nThe second man got up very early the next morning, and discovered a\nnumber of his servants idling about, and others loading a cart with\ngoods from his warehouse, which they were stealing. He now understood\nthe meaning of Solomon's advice, and henceforward always rose early\nevery morning, looked after his servants, and ultimately became very\nwealthy. The third man, on reaching home, told his wife to get him a\nsplendid robe, and to instruct all the servants to admit no one into his\npresence without first obtaining his permission. Next day, as he sat in\nhis private chamber, arrayed in his magnificent gown, a lady sent her\nservant to demand his attendance, and he was about to enter the\nphysician's chamber, as usual, without ceremony, when he was stopped,\nand told that the doctor's permission must be first obtained. After some\ndelay the lady's servant was admitted, and found the great doctor seated\namong his books. On being desired to visit the lady, the doctor told the\nservant that he could not do so without first receiving his fee. In\nshort, by this professional pride, the physician's practice rapidly\nincreased, and in a few years he acquired a large fortune. And thus in\neach case Solomon's advice proved successful.[75]\n\n   [74] At the \"mill\" the man who was plagued with a bad wife\n        doubtless saw some labourers threshing corn, since\n        _grinding_ corn would hardly suggest the idea of\n        _beating_ his provoking spouse.--By the way, this man\n        had evidently never heard the barbarous sentiment,\n        expressed in the equally barbarous English popular\n        rhyme--composed, probably, by some beer-sodden\n        bacon-chewer, and therefore, in those ancient times,\n        _non inventus_--\n\n          A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree,\n          The more you beat 'em, the better they be--\n\n        else, what need for him to consult King Solomon about\n        his paltry domestic troubles?\n\n   [75] A variant of this occurs in the _Decameron_ of\n        Boccaccio, Day ix, Nov. 9, of which Dunlop gives the\n        following outline: Two young men repair to Jerusalem to\n        consult Solomon. One asks how he may be well liked, the\n        other how he may best manage a froward wife. Solomon\n        advised the first to \"love others,\" and the second to\n        \"repair to the mill.\" From this last counsel neither can\n        extract any meaning; but it is explained on their road\n        home, for when they came to the bridge of that name they\n        meet a number of mules, and one of these animals being\n        restive its master forced it on with a stick. The advice\n        of Solomon, being now understood, is followed, with\n        complete success.\n\n        Among the innumerable tales current in Muhammedan\n        countries regarding the extraordinary sagacity of\n        Solomon is the following, which occurs in M. Rene\n        Basset's _Contes Populaires Berbers_ (Paris, 1887):\n        Complaint was made to Solomon that some one had stolen a\n        quantity of eggs. \"I shall discover him,\" said Solomon.\n        And when the people were assembled in the mosque\n        (_sic_), he said: \"An egg-thief has come in with you,\n        and he has got feathers on his head.\" The thief in great\n        fright raised his hand to his head, which Solomon\n        perceiving, he cried out: \"There is the culprit--seize\n        him!\" There are many variants of this story in Persian\n        and Indian collections, where a kazi, or judge, takes\n        the place of Solomon, and it had found its way into our\n        own jest-books early in the 16th century. Thus in _Tales\n        and Quicke Answeres_, a man has a goose stolen from him\n        and complains to the priest, who promises to find out\n        the thief. On Sunday the priest tells the congregation\n        to sit down, which they do accordingly. Then says he,\n        \"Why are ye not all seated?\" Say they, \"We _are_ all\n        seated.\" \"Nay,\" quoth Mass John, \"but he that stole the\n        goose sitteth not down.\" \"But I _am_ seated,\" says the\n        witless goose-thief.\n\nWe learn from the Old Testament that the Queen of Sheba (or Saba, whom\nthe Arabians identify with Bilkis, queen of El-Yemen) \"came to prove the\nwisdom of Solomon with hard questions,\" and that he answered them all.\nWhat were the questions--or riddles--the solution of which so much\nastonished the Queen of Sheba we are not told; but the Rabbis inform us\nthat, after she had exhausted her budget of riddles, she one day\npresented herself at the foot of Solomon's throne, holding in one hand a\nbouquet of natural flowers and in the other a bouquet of artificial\nflowers, desiring the king to say which was the product of nature. Now,\nthe artificial flowers were so exactly modelled in imitation of the\nothers that it was thought impossible for him to answer the question,\nfrom the distance at which she held the bouquets. But Solomon was not to\nbe baffled by a woman with scraps of painted paper: he caused a window\nin the audience-chamber to be opened, when a cluster of bees immediately\nflew in and alighted upon one of the bouquets, while not one of the\ninsects fixed upon the other. By this device Solomon was enabled to\ndistinguish between the natural and the artificial flowers.\n\nAgain the Queen of Sheba endeavoured to outwit the sagacious monarch.\nShe brought before him a number of boys and girls, apparelled all alike,\nand desired him to distinguish those of one sex from those of the other,\nas they stood before him. Solomon caused a large basin full of water to\nbe fetched in, and ordered them all to wash their hands. By this\nexpedient he discovered the males from the females; since the boys\nmerely washed their hands, while the girls washed also their arms.[76]\n\n   [76] Among the Muhammedan legends concerning Solomon and the\n        Queen of Sheba, it is related that, after he had\n        satisfactorily answered all her questions and solved her\n        riddles, \"before he would enter into more intimate\n        relations with her, he desired to clear up a certain\n        point respecting her, and to see whether she actually\n        had cloven feet, as several of his demons would have him\n        to believe; or whether they had only invented the defect\n        from fear lest he should marry her, and beget children,\n        who, as descendants of the genii [the mother of Bilkis\n        is said to have been of that race of beings], would be\n        even more mighty than himself. He therefore caused her\n        to be conducted through a hall, whose floor was of\n        crystal, and under which water tenanted by every variety\n        of fish was flowing. Bilkis, who had never seen a\n        crystal floor, supposed that there was water to be\n        passed through, and therefore raised her robe slightly,\n        when the king discovered to his great joy a beautifully\n        shaped female foot. When his eye was satisfied, he\n        called to her: 'Come hither; there is no water here, but\n        only a crystal floor; and confess thyself to the faith\n        in the one only God.' Bilkis approached the throne,\n        which stood at the end of the hall, and in Solomon's\n        presence abjured the worship of the sun. Solomon then\n        married Bilkis, but reinstated her as Queen of Saba, and\n        spent three days in every month with her.\"\n\nThe Arabians and Persians, who have many traditions regarding Solomon,\ninvariably represent him as adept in necromancy, and as being intimately\nacquainted with the language of beasts and birds. Josephus, the great\nJewish historian, distinctly states that Solomon possessed the art of\nexpelling demons, that he composed such incantations also by which\ndistempers are alleviated, and that he left behind him the manner of\nusing exorcisms, by which they drive out demons, never to return. Of\ncourse, Josephus merely reproduces rabbinical traditions, and there can\nbe no doubt but the Arabian stories regarding Solomon's magical powers\nare derived from the same source. It appears that Solomon's signet-ring\nwas the chief instrument with which he performed his numerous magical\nexploits.[77] By its wondrous power he imprisoned Ashmedai, the prince\nof devils; and on one occasion the king's curiosity to increase his\nstore of magical knowledge cost him very dear--no less than the loss of\nhis kingdom for a time. Solomon was in the habit of daily plying\nAshmedai with questions, to all of which the fiend returned answers,\nfurnishing the desired information, until one day the king asked him a\nparticular question which the captive evil spirit flatly refused to\nanswer, except on condition that Solomon should lend him his\nsignet-ring. The king's passion for magical knowledge overcame his\nprudence, and he handed his ring to the fiend, thereby depriving himself\nof all power over his captive, who immediately swallowed the monarch,\nand stretching out his wings, flew up into the air, and shot out his\n\"inside passenger\" four hundred leagues distant from Jerusalem! Ashmedai\nthen assumed the form of Solomon, and sat on his throne. Meanwhile\nSolomon was become a wanderer on the face of the earth, and it was then\nthat he said (as it is written in the book of Ecclesiasticus i, 3):\n\"This is the reward of all my labour\"; which word _this_, one learned\nRabbi affirms to have reference to Solomon's walking-staff, and another\ncommentator, to his ragged coat; for the poor monarch went begging from\ndoor to door, and in every town he entered he always cried aloud: \"I,\nthe Preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem!\" But the people all\nthought him insane. At length, in the course of his wanderings, he\nreached Jerusalem, where he cried, as usual: \"I, the Preacher, was king\nover Israel in Jerusalem!\" and as he never varied in his recital,\ncertain wise counsellors, reflecting that a fool is not constant in his\ntale, resolved to ascertain, if possible, whether the poor beggar was\nreally King Solomon. With this object they assembled, and taking the\nmendicant with them, they gave him the magical ring and led him into the\nthrone-room.[78] Ashmedai no sooner caught sight of his old master than\nhe shrieked wildly and flew away; and Solomon resumed his mild and\nbeneficent rule over the people of Israel. The Rabbis add, that ever\nafterwards, even to his dying day, Solomon was afraid of the prince of\ndevils, and could not go to sleep without having his bed surrounded by\nan armed guard, as it is written in the Book of Canticles, iii, 7, 8.\n\n   [77] According to the Muslim legend, eight angels appeared\n        before Solomon in a vision, saying that Allah had sent\n        them to surrender to him power over them and the eight\n        winds which were at their command. The chief of the\n        angels then presented him with a jewel bearing the\n        inscription: \"To Allah belong greatness and might.\"\n        Solomon had merely to raise this stone towards the\n        heavens and these angels would appear, to serve him.\n        Four other angels next appeared, lords of all creatures\n        living on the earth and in the waters. The angel\n        representing the kingdom of birds gave him a jewel on\n        which were inscribed the words: \"All created things\n        praise the Lord.\" Then came an angel who gave him a\n        jewel conferring on the possessor power over earth and\n        sea, having inscribed on it: \"Heaven and earth are\n        servants of Allah.\" Lastly, another angel appeared and\n        presented him with a jewel bearing these words (the\n        formula of the Muslim Confession of Faith): \"There is no\n        God but _the_ God, and Muhammed is his messenger.\" This\n        jewel gave Solomon power over the spirit-world. Solomon\n        caused these four jewels to be set in a ring, and the\n        first use to which he applied its magical power was to\n        subdue the demons and genii.--It is perhaps hardly\n        necessary to remark here, with reference to the\n        fundamental doctrine of Islam, said to have been\n        engraved on the fourth jewel of Solomon's ring, that\n        according to the Kuran, David, Solomon, and all the\n        Biblical patriarchs and prophets were good Muslims, for\n        Muhammed did not profess to introduce a new religion,\n        but simply to restore the original and only true faith,\n        which had become corrupt.\n\n   [78] We are not told here how the demon came to part with\n        this safeguard of his power. The Muslim form of the\n        legend, as will be seen presently, is much more\n        consistent, and corresponds generally with another\n        rabbinical version, which follows the present one.\n\nAnother account informs us that the demon, having cajoled Solomon out of\npossession of his magic ring, at once flung it into the sea and cast the\nking 400 miles away. Solomon came to a place called Mash Kerim, where he\nwas made chief cook in the palace of the king of Ammon, whose daughter,\ncalled Naama, became enamoured of him, and they eloped to a far distant\ncountry. As Naama was one day preparing a fish for broiling, she found\nSolomon's ring in its stomach, which, of course, enabled him to recover\nhis kingdom and to imprison the demon in a copper vessel, which he cast\ninto the Lake of Tiberias.[79]\n\n   [79] According to the Muslim version, Solomon's temporary\n        degradation was in punishment for his taking as a\n        concubine the daughter of an idolatrous king whom he had\n        vanquished in battle, and, through her influence, bowing\n        himself to \"strange gods.\" Before going to the bath, one\n        day, he gave this heathen beauty his signet to take care\n        of, and in his absence the rebellious genie Sakhr,\n        assuming the form of Solomon, obtained the ring. The\n        king was driven forth and Sakhr ruled (or rather,\n        misruled) in his stead; till the wise men of the palace,\n        suspecting him to be a demon, began to read the Book of\n        the Law in his presence, whereupon he flew away and cast\n        the signet into the sea. In the meantime Solomon hired\n        himself to some fishermen in a distant country, his\n        wages being two fishes each day. He finds his signet in\n        the maw of one of the fish, and so forth.\n\nIt may appear strange to some readers that the Rabbis should represent\nthe sagacious Solomon in the character of a practitioner of the Black\nArt. But the circumstance simply indicates that Solomon's acquirements\nin scientific knowledge were considerably beyond those of most men of\nhis age; and, as in the case of our own Friar Bacon, his superior\nattainments were popularly attributed to magical arts. Nature, it need\nhardly be remarked, is the only school of magic, and men of science are\nthe true magicians.\n\n\n_Unheard-of Monsters._\n\nThe marvellous creatures which are described by Pliny, and by our own\nold English writers, Sir John Mandeville and Geoffrey of Monmouth, are\ncommon-place in comparison with some of those mentioned in the Talmud.\nEven the monstrous _roc_ of the _Arabian Nights_ must have been a mere\ntom-tit compared with the bird which Rabbi bar Chama says he once saw.\nIt was so tall that its head reached the sky, while its feet rested on\nthe bottom of the ocean; and he affords us some slight notion of the\ndepth of the sea by informing us that a carpenter's axe, which had\naccidentally fallen in, had not reached the bottom in seven years. The\nsame Rabbi saw \"a frog as large as a village containing sixty houses.\"\nHuge as this frog was, the snake that swallowed it must have been the\nvery identical serpent of Scandinavian mythology, which encircled the\nearth; yet a crow gobbled up this serpent, and then flew to the top of a\ncedar, which was as broad as sixteen waggons placed side by\nside.--Sailors' \"yarns,\" as they are spun to marvel-loving old ladies in\nour jest-books, are as nothing to the rabbinical accounts of \"strange\nfish,\" some with eyes like the moon, others horned, and 300 miles in\nlength. Not less wonderful are some four-footed creatures. The effigy of\nthe unicorn, familiar to every schoolboy, on the royal arms of Great\nBritain, affords no adequate idea of the actual dimensions of that\nremarkable animal. Since a unicorn one day old is as large as Mount\nTabor, it may readily be supposed that Noah could not possibly have got\na full-grown one into the ark; he therefore secured it by its horn to\nthe side, and thus the creature was saved alive. (The Talmudist had\nforgot that the animals saved from the Flood were in pairs.)[80] The\ncelebrated Og, king of Bashan, it seems, was one of the antediluvians,\nand was saved by riding on the back of the unicorn. The dwellers in\nBrobdignag were pigmies compared with the renowned King Og, since his\nfootsteps were forty miles apart, and Abraham's ivory bed was made of\none of his teeth. Moses, the Rabbis tell us, was ten cubits high[81] and\nhis walking-stick ten cubits more, with the top of which, after jumping\nten cubits from the ground, he contrived to touch the heel of King Og;\nfrom which it has been concluded that that monarch was from two to three\nthousand cubits in height. But (remarks an English writer) a certain\nJewish traveller has shown the fallacy of this mensuration, by meeting\nwith the end of one of the leg-bones of the said King Og, and travelling\nfour hours before he came to the other end. Supposing this Rabbi to have\nbeen a fair walker, the bone was sixteen miles long!\n\n   [80] Is it possible that this \"story\" of the unicorn was\n        borrowed and garbled from the ancient Hindu legend of\n        the Deluge? \"When the flood rose Manu embarked in the\n        ship, and the fish swam towards him, and he fastened the\n        ship's cable to its horn.\" But in the Hindu legend the\n        fish (that is, Brahma in the form of a great fish) tows\n        the vessel, while in the Talmudic legend the ark of Noah\n        takes the unicorn in tow.\n\n   [81] In a manuscript preserved in the Lambeth Palace Library,\n        of the time of Edward IV, the height of Moses is said to\n        have been \"xiij. fote and viij. ynches and half\"; and\n        the reader may possibly find some amusement in the\n        \"longitude of men folowyng,\" from the same veracious\n        work: \"Cryste, vj. fote and iij. ynches. Our Lady, vj.\n        fote and viij. ynches. Crystoferus, xvij. fote and viij.\n        ynches. King Alysaunder, iiij. fote and v. ynches.\n        Colbronde, xvij. fote and ij. ynches and half. Syr Ey.,\n        x. fote iij. ynches and half. Seynt Thomas of\n        Caunterbery, vij. fote, save a ynche. Long Mores, a man\n        of Yrelonde borne, and servaunt to Kyng Edward the\n        iiijth., vj. fote and x. ynches and half.\"--_Reliquae\n        Antiquae_, vol i, p. 200.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nMORAL AND ENTERTAINING TALES.\n\n\nIf most of the rabbinical legends cited in the preceding sections have\nserved simply to amuse the general reader--though to those of a\nphilosophical turn they must have been suggestive of the depths of\nimbecility to which the human mind may descend--the stories, apologues,\nand parables contained in the Talmud, of which specimens are now to be\npresented, are calculated to furnish wholesome moral instruction as well\nas entertainment to readers of all ranks and ages. In the art of\nconveying impressive moral lessons, by means of ingenious fictions, the\nHebrew sages have never been excelled, and perhaps they are rivalled\nonly by the ancient philosophers of India. The significant circumstance\nhas already been noticed (in the introductory section) that several of\nthe most striking tales in European mediaeval collections--particularly\nthe _Disciplina Clericalis_ of Petrus Alfonsus and the famous _Gesta\nRomanorum_--are traceable to Talmudic sources. Little did the\npriest-ridden, ignorant, marvel-loving laity of European countries\nimagine that the moral fictions which their spiritual directors recited\nevery Sunday for their edification were derived from the wise men of the\ndespised Hebrew race! But, indeed, there is reason to believe that few\nmere casual readers even at the present day have any notion of the\nextent to which the popular fictions of Europe are indebted to the old\nJewish Rabbis.\n\nLike the sages of India, the Hebrew Fathers in their teachings strongly\ninculcate the duty of active benevolence--the liberal giving of alms to\nthe poor and needy; and, indeed, the wealthy Jews are distinguished at\nthe present day by their open-handed liberality in support of the public\ncharitable institutions of the several countries of which they are\nsubjects. \"What you increase bestow on good works,\" says the Hindu sage.\n\"Charity is to money what salt is to meat,\" says the Hebrew philosopher:\nif the wealthy are not charitable their riches will perish. In\nillustration of this maxim is the story of\n\n\n_Rabbi Jochonan and the Poor Woman._\n\nOne day Rabbi Jochonan was riding outside the city of Jerusalem,\nfollowed by his disciples, when he observed a poor woman laboriously\ngathering the grain that dropped from the mouths of the horses of the\nArabs as they were feeding. Looking up and recognising Jochonan, she\ncried: \"O Rabbi, assist me!\" \"Who art thou?\" demanded Jochonan. \"I am\nthe daughter of Nakdimon, the son of Guryon.\" \"Why, what has become of\nthy father's money--the dowry thou receivedst on thy wedding day?\" \"Ah,\nRabbi, is there not a saying in Jerusalem, 'the salt was wanting to the\nmoney?'\" \"But thy husband's money?\" \"That followed the other: I have\nlost them both.\" The good Rabbi wept for the poor woman and helped her.\nThen said he to his disciples, as they continued on their way: \"I\nremember that when I signed that woman's marriage contract her father\ngave her as a dowry one million of gold dinars, and her husband was a\nman of considerable wealth besides.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe ill-fated riches of Nakdimon are referred to in another tale, as a\nlesson to those who are not charitable according to their means:\n\n\n_A Safe Investment._\n\nRabbi Taraphon, though a very wealthy man, was exceedingly avaricious,\nand seldom gave help to the poor. Once, however, he involuntarily\nbestowed a considerable sum in relieving the distressed. Rabbi Akiba\ncame to him one day, and told him that he knew of certain real estate,\nwhich would be a very profitable investment. Rabbi Taraphon handed him\n4000 dinars in gold to be so invested, and Rabbi Akiba forthwith\ndistributed the whole among the poor. By-and-by, Rabbi Taraphon,\nhappening to meet his friend, desired to know where the real estate was\nin which his money had been invested. Rabbi Akiba took him to the\ncollege, where he caused one of the boys to read aloud the 112th Psalm,\nand on his reaching the 9th verse, \"He distributeth, he giveth to the\nneedy, his righteousness endureth for ever\"--\"There,\" said he, \"thou\nseest where thy money is invested.\" \"And why hast thou done this?\"\ndemanded Rabbi Taraphon. \"Hast thou forgotten,\" answered his friend,\n\"how Nakdimon, the son of Guryon, was punished because he gave not\naccording to his means?\" \"But why didst thou not tell me of thy purpose?\nI could myself have bestowed my money on the poor.\" \"Nay,\" rejoined\nRabbi Akiba, \"it is a greater virtue to cause another to give than to\ngive one's self.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nResignation to the divine will under sore family bereavements has,\nperhaps, never been more beautifully illustrated than by the incident\nrelated of the Rabbi Meir. This little tale, as follows, is one of three\nTalmudic narratives which the poet Coleridge has translated:[82]\n\n\n_The Jewels._\n\nThe celebrated teacher Rabbi Meir sat during the whole of the Sabbath\nday in the public school instructing the people. During his absence from\nthe house his two sons died, both of them of uncommon beauty, and\nenlightened in the law. His wife bore them to her bed-chamber, laid them\nupon the marriage-bed, and spread a white covering over their bodies. In\nthe evening the Rabbi Meir came home. \"Where are my two sons,\" he asked,\n\"that I may give them my blessing? I repeatedly looked round the school,\nand I did not see them there.\" She reached him a goblet. He praised the\nLord at the going out of the Sabbath, drank, and again asked: \"Where are\nmy sons, that they too may drink of the cup of blessing?\" \"They will not\nbe afar off,\" she said, and placed food before him that he might eat. He\nwas in a gladsome and genial mood, and when he had said grace after the\nmeal, she thus addressed him: \"Rabbi, with thy permission, I would fain\npropose to thee one question.\" \"Ask it then, my love,\" he replied. \"A\nfew days ago a person entrusted some jewels into my custody, and now he\ndemands them of me; should I give them back again?\" \"This is a\nquestion,\" said the Rabbi, \"which my wife should not have thought it\nnecessary to ask. What! wouldst thou hesitate or be reluctant to restore\nto every one his own?\" \"No,\" she replied; \"but yet I thought it best not\nto restore them without acquainting you therewith.\" She then led him to\nthe chamber, and, stepping to the bed, took the white covering from the\ndead bodies. \"Ah, my sons--my sons!\" thus loudly lamented the father.\n\"My sons! the light of my eyes, and the light of my understanding! I was\nyour father, but ye were my teachers in the law.\" The mother turned away\nand wept bitterly. At length she took her husband by the hand, and said:\n\"Rabbi, didst thou not teach me that we must not be reluctant to restore\nthat which was entrusted to our keeping? See--'the Lord gave, the Lord\nhath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!'\"[83] \"Blessed be the\nname of the Lord!\" echoed Rabbi Meir. \"And blessed be his name for thy\nsake too, for well is it written: 'Whoso hath found a virtuous wife,\nhath a greater prize than rubies; she openeth her mouth with wisdom, and\nin her tongue is the law of kindness.'\"[84]\n\n   [82] _The Friend_, ed. 1850, vol. ii, p. 247.\n\n   [83] Book of Job, i, 21.\n\n   [84] Prov. xxxi, 10, 26.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe originals of not a few of the early Italian tales are found in the\nTalmud--the author of the _Cento Novelle Antiche_, Boccaccio, Sacchetti,\nand other novelists having derived the groundwork of many of their\nfictions from the _Gesta Romanorum_ and the _Disciplina Clericalis_ of\nPeter Alfonsus, which are largely composed of tales drawn from Eastern\nsources. The 123rd novel of Sacchetti, in which a young man carves a\ncapon in a whimsical fashion, finds its original in the following\nTalmudic story:\n\n\n_The Capon-Carver._\n\nIt happened that a citizen of Jerusalem, while on a distant provincial\njourney on business, was suddenly taken ill, and, feeling himself to be\nat the point of death, he sent for the master of the house, and desired\nhim to take charge of his property until his son should arrive to claim\nit; but, in order to make sure that the claimant was really the son, he\nwas not to deliver up the property until the applicant had proved his\nwisdom by performing three ingenious actions. Shortly after having given\nhis friend these injunctions the merchant died, and the melancholy\nintelligence was duly transmitted to his son, who in the course of a few\nweeks left Jerusalem to claim his property. On reaching the town where\nhis father's friend resided, he began to inquire of the people where his\nhouse was situated, and, finding no one who could, or would, give him\nthis necessary information, the youth was in sore perplexity how to\nproceed in his quest, when he observed a man carrying a heavy load of\nfirewood. \"How much for that wood?\" he cried. The man readily named his\nprice. \"Thou shalt have it,\" said the stranger. \"Carry it to the house\nof ---- [naming his father's friend], and I will follow thee.\" Well\nsatisfied to have found a purchaser on his own terms, the man at once\nproceeded as he was desired, and on arriving at the house he threw down\nhis load before the door. \"What is all this?\" demanded the master. \"I\nhave not ordered any wood.\" \"Perhaps not,\" said the man; \"but the person\nbehind me has bought it, and desired me to bring it hither.\" The\nstranger had now come up, and, saluting the master of the house, told\nhim who he was, and explained that, since he could not ascertain where\nhis house was situated by inquiries of people in the streets, he had\nadopted this expedient, which had succeeded. The master praised the\nyoung man's ingenuity, and led him into the house.\n\nWhen the several members of the family, together with the stranger, were\nassembled round the dinner-table, the master of the house, in order to\ntest the stranger's ingenuity, desired his guest to carve a dish\ncontaining five chickens, and to distribute a portion to each of the\npersons who were present--namely, the master and mistress, their two\ndaughters and two sons, and himself. The young stranger acquitted\nhimself of the duty in this manner: One of the chickens he divided\nbetween the master and the mistress; another between the two daughters;\nthe third between the two sons; and the remaining two he took for his\nown share. \"This visitor of mine,\" thought the master, \"is a curious\ncarver; but I will try him once more at supper.\"\n\nVarious amusements made the afternoon pass very agreeably to the\nstranger, until supper-time, when a fine capon was placed upon the\ntable, which the master desired his guest to carve for the company. The\nyoung man took the capon, and began to carve and distribute it thus: To\nthe master of the house he gave the head; to the mistress, the inward\npart; to the two daughters, each a wing; to the two sons, each a leg;\nand the remainder he took for himself. After supper the master of the\nhouse thus addressed his visitor: \"Friend, I thought thy carving at\ndinner somewhat peculiar, but thy distribution of the capon this evening\nseems to me extremely whimsical. Give me leave to ask, do the citizens\nof Jerusalem usually carve their capons in this fashion?\"\n\n\"Master,\" said the youth, \"I will gladly explain my system of carving,\nwhich does appear to you so strange. At dinner I was requested to divide\nfive chickens among seven persons. This I could not do otherwise than\narithmetically; therefore, I adopted the perfect number _three_ as my\nguide--thou, thy wife, and one chicken made _three_; thy two daughters\nand one chicken made _three_; thy two sons and one chicken made _three_;\nand I had to take the remaining chickens for my own share, as two\nchickens and myself made _three_.\" \"Very ingenious, I must confess,\"\nsaid the master. \"But how dost thou explain thy carving of the capon?\"\n\"That, master, I performed according to what appeared to me the fitness\nof things. I gave the head of the capon to thee, because thou art the\nhead of this house; I gave the inward part to the mistress, as typical\nof her fruitfulness; thy daughters are both of marriageable years, and,\nas it is natural to wish them well settled in life, I gave each of them\na wing, to indicate that they should soon fly abroad; thy two sons are\nthe pillars of thy house, and to them I gave the legs, which are the\nsupporters of the animal; while to myself I took that part of the capon\nwhich most resembles a boat, in which I came hither, and in which I\nintend to return.\" From these proofs of his ingenuity the master was now\nfully convinced that the stranger was the true son of his late friend\nthe merchant, and next morning he delivered to him his father's\nproperty.[85]\n\n   [85] The droll incident of dividing the capon, besides being\n        found in Sacchetti, forms part of a popular story\n        current in Sicily, and is thus related in Professor\n        Crane's _Italian Popular Tales_, p. 311 ff., taken from\n        Prof. Comparetti's _Fiabe, Novelle, e Racconti_\n        (Palermo, 1875), No. 43, \"La Ragazza astuta\": Once upon\n        a time there was a huntsman who had a wife and two\n        children, a son and a daughter; and all lived together\n        in a wood where no one ever came, and so they knew\n        nothing about the world. The father alone sometimes went\n        to the city, and brought back the news. The king's son\n        once went hunting, and lost himself in that wood, and\n        while he was seeking his way it became night. He was\n        weary and hungry. Imagine how he felt. But all at once\n        he saw a light shining in the distance. He followed it\n        and reached the huntsman's house, and asked for lodging\n        and something to eat. The huntsman recognised him at\n        once and said: \"Highness, we have already supped on our\n        best; but if we can find anything for you, you must be\n        satisfied with it. What can we do? We are so far from\n        the towns that we cannot procure what we need every\n        day.\" Meanwhile he had a capon cooked for him. The\n        prince did not wish to eat it alone, so he called all\n        the huntsman's family, and gave the head of the capon to\n        the father, the back to the mother, the legs to the son,\n        and the wings to the daughter, and ate the rest himself.\n        In the house there were only two beds, in the same room.\n        In one the husband and wife slept, in the other the\n        brother and sister. The old people went and slept in the\n        stable, giving up their bed to the prince. When the girl\n        saw that the prince was asleep, she said to her brother:\n        \"I will wager that you do not know why the prince\n        divided the capon among us in the manner he did.\" \"Do\n        you know? Tell me why.\" \"He gave the head to our father,\n        because he is the head of the family; the back to our\n        mother, because she has on her shoulders all the affairs\n        of the house; the legs to you, because you must be quick\n        in performing the errands which are given you; and the\n        wings to me, to fly away and catch a husband.\" The\n        prince pretended to be asleep, but he was awake and\n        heard these words, and perceived that the girl had much\n        judgment, and as she was also pretty, he fell in love\n        with her [and ultimately married this clever girl].\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nMORAL TALES, FABLES, AND PARABLES.\n\n\nReverence for parents, which is still a marked characteristic of Eastern\nraces, has ever been strongly inculcated by the Jewish Fathers; and the\nnoble conduct of Damah, the son of Nethuna, towards both his father and\nmother, is adduced in the Talmud as an example for all times and every\ncondition of life:\n\n\n_A Dutiful Son._\n\nThe mother of Damah was unfortunately insane, and would frequently not\nonly abuse him but strike him in the presence of his companions; yet\nwould not this dutiful son suffer an ill word to escape his lips, and\nall he used to say on such occasions was: \"Enough, dear mother, enough.\"\nOne of the precious stones attached to the high priest's sacerdotal\ngarments was once, by some means or other, lost. Informed that the son\nof Nethuna had one like it, the priests went to him and offered him a\nvery large price for it. He consented to take the sum offered, and went\ninto an adjoining room to fetch the jewel. On entering he found his\nfather asleep, his foot resting on the chest wherein the gem was\ndeposited. Without disturbing his father, he went back to the priests\nand told them that he must for the present forego the large profit he\ncould make, as his father was asleep. The case being urgent, and the\npriests thinking that he only said so to obtain a larger price, offered\nhim more money. \"No,\" said he; \"I would not even for a moment disturb my\nfather's rest for all the treasures in the world.\" The priests waited\ntill the father awoke, when Damah brought them the jewel. They gave him\nthe sum they had offered him the second time, but the good man refused\nto take it. \"I will not,\" said he, \"barter for gold the satisfaction of\nhaving done my duty. Give me what you offered at first, and I shall be\nsatisfied.\" This they did, and left him with a blessing.\n\n\n_An Ingenious Will._\n\nOne of the best rabbinical stories of common life is of a wise man who,\nresiding at some distance from Jerusalem, had sent his son to the Holy\nCity in order to complete his education, and, dying during his son's\nabsence, bequeathed the whole of his estate to one of his own slaves, on\nthe condition that he should allow his son to select any one article\nwhich pleased him for an inheritance. Surprised, and naturally angry, at\nsuch gross injustice on the part of his father in preferring a slave for\nhis heir in place of himself, the young man sought counsel of his\nteacher, who, after considering the terms of the will, thus explained\nits meaning and effect: \"By this action thy father has simply secured\nthy inheritance to thee: to prevent his slaves from plundering the\nestate before thou couldst formally claim it, he left it to one of them,\nwho, believing himself to be the owner, would take care of the property.\nNow, what a slave possesses belongs to his master. Choose, therefore,\nthe slave for thy portion, and then possess all that was thy father's.\"\nThe young man followed his teacher's advice, took possession of the\nslave, and thus of his father's wealth, and then gave the slave his\nfreedom, together with a considerable sum of money.[86]\n\n   [86] This story seems to be the original of a French popular\n        tale, in which a gentleman secures his estate for his\n        son by a similar device. The gentleman, dying at Paris\n        while his son was on his travels, bequeathed all his\n        wealth to a convent, on condition that they should give\n        his son \"whatever they chose.\" On the son's return he\n        received from the holy fathers a very trifling portion\n        of the paternal estate. He complained to his friends of\n        this injustice, but they all agreed that there was no\n        help for it, according to the terms of his father's\n        will. In his distress he laid his case before an eminent\n        lawyer, who told him that his father had adopted this\n        plan of leaving his estate in the hands of the churchmen\n        in order to prevent its misappropriation during his\n        absence. \"For,\" said the man of law, \"your father, by\n        will, has left you the share of his estate which the\n        convent should choose (_le partie qui leur plairoit_),\n        and it is plain that what they chose was that which they\n        kept for themselves. All you have to do, therefore, is\n        to enter an action at law against the convent for\n        recovery of that portion of your father's property which\n        they have retained, and, take my word for it, you will\n        be successful.\" The young man accordingly sued the\n        churchmen and gained his cause.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now we proceed to cite one or two of the rabbinical fables, in the\nproper signification of the term--namely, moral narratives in which\nbeasts or birds are the characters. Although it is generally allowed\nthat Fable was the earliest form adopted for conveying moral truths, yet\nit is by no means agreed among the learned in what country of remote\nantiquity it originated. Dr. Landsberger, in his erudite introduction to\n_Die Fabeln des Sophos_ (1859), contends that the Jews were the first to\nemploy fables for purposes of moral instruction, and that the oldest\nfable extant is Jotham's apologue of the trees desiring a king (Book of\nJudges, ix. 8-15).[87] According to Dr. Landsberger, the sages of India\nwere indebted to the Hebrews for the idea of teaching by means of\nfables, probably during the reign of Solomon, who is believed to have\nhad commerce with the western shores of India.[88] We are told by\nJosephus that Solomon \"composed of parables and similitudes three\nthousand; for he spoke a parable upon every sort of tree, from the\nhyssop to the cedar; and, in like manner, also about beasts, about all\nsorts of living creatures, whether upon earth, or in the seas, or in the\nair; for he was not unacquainted with any of their natures, nor omitted\ninquiring about them, but described them all like a philosopher, and\ndemonstrated his exquisite knowledge of their several properties.\" These\nfables of Solomon, if they were ever committed to writing, had perished\nlong before the time of the great Jewish historian; but there seems no\nreason to doubt the fact that the wise king of Israel composed many\nworks besides those ascribed to him in the Old Testament. The general\nopinion among European orientalists is that Fable had its origin in\nIndia; and the Hindus themselves claim the honour of inventing our\npresent system of numerals (which came into Europe through the Arabians,\nwho derived it from the Hindus), the game of chess, and the Fables of\nVishnusarman (the _Panchatantra_ and its abridgment, the _Hitopadesa_).\n\n   [87] But the Book of Judges was probably edited after the\n        time of Hesiod, whose fable of the Hawk and the\n        Nightingale (_Works and Days_, B. i, v. 260) must be\n        considered as the oldest extant fable.\n\n   [88] This theory, though perhaps somewhat ingenious, is\n        generally considered as utterly untenable.\n\nIt is said that Rabbi Meir knew upwards of three hundred fables relating\nto the fox alone; but of these only three fragments have been preserved,\nand this is one of them, according to Mr. Polano's translation:\n\n\n_The Fox and the Bear._\n\nA Fox said to a Bear: \"Come, let us go into this kitchen; they are\nmaking preparations for the Sabbath, and we shall be able to find food.\"\nThe Bear followed the Fox, but, being bulky, he was captured and\npunished. Angry thereat, he designed to tear the Fox to pieces, under\nthe pretence that the forefathers of the Fox had once stolen his food,\nwherein occurs the saying, \"the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the\nchildren's teeth are set on edge.\"[89] \"Nay,\" said the Fox, \"come with\nme, my good friend; let us not quarrel. I will lead thee to another\nplace where we shall surely find food.\" The Fox then led the Bear to a\ndeep well, where two buckets were fastened together by a rope, like a\nbalance. It was night, and the Fox pointed to the moon reflected in the\nwater, saying: \"Here is a fine cheese; let us descend and partake of\nit.\" The Fox entered his bucket first, but being too light to balance\nthe weight of the Bear, he took with him a stone. As soon as the Bear\nhad got into the other bucket, however, the Fox threw the stone away,\nand consequently the bear descended to the bottom and was drowned.\n\n   [89] Ezekiel, xviii, 2.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe reader will doubtless recognise in this fable the original of many\nmodern popular tales having a similar catastrophe. It will also be\nobserved that the vulgar saying of the moon being \"a fine cheese\" is of\nvery considerable antiquity.[90]\n\n   [90] This wide-spread fable is found in the _Disciplina\n        Clericalis_ (No. 21) and in the collection of Marie de\n        France, of the 13th century; and it is one of the many\n        spurious Esopic fables.\n\nAnd here is another rabbinical fable of a Fox--a very common character\nin the apologues of most countries; although the \"moral\" appended to\nthis one by the pious fabulist is much more striking than is sometimes\nthe case of those deduced from beast-fables:\n\n\n_The Fox in the Garden._\n\nA Fox once came near a very fine garden, where he beheld lofty trees\nladen with fruit that charmed the eye. Such a beautiful sight, added to\nhis natural greediness, excited in him the desire of possession. He fain\nwould taste the forbidden fruit; but a high wall stood between him and\nthe object of his wishes. He went about in search of an entrance, and at\nlast found an opening in the wall, but it was too small to admit his\nbody. Unable to penetrate, he had recourse to his usual cunning. He\nfasted three days, and became sufficiently reduced in bulk to crawl\nthrough the small aperture. Having effected an entrance, he carelessly\nroved about in this delightful region, making free with its exquisite\nproduce and feasting on its more rare and delicious fruits. He remained\nfor some time, and glutted his appetite, when a thought occurred to him\nthat it was possible he might be observed, and in that case he should\npay dearly for his feast. He therefore retired to the place where he had\nentered, and attempted to get out, but to his great consternation he\nfound his endeavours vain. He had by indulgence grown so fat and plump\nthat the same space would no more admit him. \"I am in a fine\npredicament,\" said he to himself. \"Suppose the master of the garden were\nnow to come and call me to account, what would become of me? I see my\nonly chance of escape is to fast and half starve myself.\" He did so with\ngreat reluctance, and after suffering hunger for three days, he with\ndifficulty made his escape. As soon as he was out of danger, he took a\nfarewell view of the scene of his late pleasure, and said: \"O garden!\nthou art indeed charming, and delightful are thy fruits--delicious and\nexquisite; but of what benefit art thou to me? What have I now for all\nmy labour and cunning? Am I not as lean as I was before?\"--It is even so\nwith man, remarks the Talmudist. Naked he comes into the world--naked\nmust he go out of it, and of all his toils and labour he can carry\nnothing with him save the fruits of his righteousness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFrom fables to parables the transition is easy; and many of those found\nin the Talmud are exceedingly beautiful, and are calculated to cause\neven the most thoughtless to reflect upon his way of life. Let us first\ntake the parable of the Desolate Island, one of those adapted by the\nmonkish compilers of European mediaeval tales, to which reference has\nbeen made in the preceding sections:\n\n\n_The Desolate Island._\n\nA very wealthy man, who was of a kind, benevolent disposition, desired\nto make his slave happy. He therefore gave him his freedom, and\npresented him with a shipload of merchandise. \"Go,\" said he, \"sail to\ndifferent countries; dispose of these goods, and that which thou mayest\nreceive for them shall be thy own.\" The slave sailed away upon the broad\nocean, but before he had been long on his voyage a storm overtook him,\nhis ship was driven on a rock and went to pieces; all on board were\nlost--all save this slave, who swam to an island near by. Sad,\ndespondent, with nothing in this world, he traversed this island until\nhe approached a large and beautiful city, and many people approached\nhim, joyously shouting: \"Welcome! welcome! Long live the king!\" They\nbrought a rich carriage, and, placing him therein, escorted him to a\nmagnificent palace, where many servants gathered about him--clothing him\nin royal garments, and addressing him as their sovereign, and expressing\ntheir obedience to his will. The slave was amazed and dazzled, believing\nthat he was dreaming, and that all he saw, heard, and experienced was\nmere passing fantasy. Becoming convinced of the reality of his\ncondition, he said to some men about him, for whom he entertained a\nfriendly feeling: \"How is this? I cannot understand it. That you should\nthus elevate and honour a man whom you know not--a poor, naked wanderer,\nwhom you have never seen before--making him your ruler--causes me more\nwonder than I can readily express.\" \"Sire,\" they replied, \"this island\nis inhabited by spirits. Long since they prayed to God to send them\nyearly a son of man to reign over them, and he has answered their\nprayers. Yearly he sends them a son of man, whom they receive with\nhonour and elevate to the throne; but his dignity and power end with the\nyear. With its close the royal garments are taken from him, he is placed\non board a ship, and carried to a vast and desolate island, where,\nunless he has previously been wise and prepared for the day, he will\nfind neither friend nor subject, and be obliged to pass a weary, lonely,\nmiserable life. Then a new king is selected here, and so year follows\nyear. The kings who preceded thee were careless and indifferent,\nenjoying their power to the full, and thinking not of the day when it\nshould end. Be wise, then. Let our words find rest within thy heart.\"\nThe newly-made king listened attentively to all this, and felt grieved\nthat he should have lost even the time he had already spent for making\npreparations for his loss of power. He addressed the wise man who had\nspoken, saying: \"Advise me, O spirit of wisdom, how I may prepare for\nthe days which will come upon me in the future.\" \"Naked thou camest to\nus,\" replied the other, \"and naked thou wilt be sent to the desolate\nisland, of which I have told thee. At present thou art king, and mayest\ndo as pleaseth thee; therefore, send workmen to this island, let them\nbuild houses, till the ground, and beautify the surroundings. The barren\nsoil will be changed into fruitful fields, people will journey thither\nto live, and thou wilt have established a new kingdom for thyself, with\nsubjects to welcome thee in gladness when thou shalt have lost thy power\nhere. The year is short, the work is long; therefore be earnest and\nenergetic.\" The king followed this advice. He sent workmen and materials\nto the desolate island, and before the close of his temporary power it\nhad become a blooming, pleasant, and attractive spot. The rulers who had\npreceded him had anticipated the close of their power with dread, or\nsmothered all thought of it in revelry; but he looked forward to it as a\nday of joy, when he should enter upon a career of permanent peace and\nhappiness. The day came; the freed slave who had been made a king was\ndeprived of his authority; with his power he lost his royal garments;\nnaked he was placed upon a ship, and its sails were set for the desolate\nisland. When he approached its shores, however, the people whom he had\nsent there came to meet him with music, song, and great joy. They made\nhim a prince among them, and he lived ever after in pleasantness and\npeace.\n\nThe Talmudist thus explains this beautiful parable of the Desolate\nIsland: The wealthy man of kindly disposition is God, and the slave to\nwhom he gave freedom is the soul which he gives to man. The island at\nwhich the slave arrives is the world: naked and weeping he appears to\nhis parents, who are the inhabitants that greet him warmly and make him\ntheir king. The friends who tell him of the ways of the country are his\ngood inclinations. The year of his reign is his span of life, and the\ndesolate island is the future world, which he must beautify by good\ndeeds--the workmen and materials--or else live lonely and desolate for\never.[91]\n\n   [91] This is similar to the 10th parable in the spiritual\n        romance of Barlaam and Joasaph, written in Greek,\n        probably in the first half of the 7th century, and\n        ascribed to a monk called John of Damascus. Most of the\n        matter comprised in this interesting work (which has not\n        been translated into English) was taken from well-known\n        Buddhist sources, and M. Zotenberg and other eminent\n        scholars are of the opinion that it was first composed,\n        probably in Egypt, before the promulgation of Islam. The\n        10th parable is to this effect: The citizens of a\n        certain great city had an ancient custom, to take a\n        stranger and obscure man, who knew nothing of the city's\n        laws and traditions, and to make him king with absolute\n        power for a year's space; then to rise against him all\n        unawares, while he, all thoughtless, was revelling and\n        squandering and deeming the kingdom his for ever; and\n        stripping off his royal robes, lead him naked in\n        procession through the city, and banish him to a\n        long-uninhabited and great island, where, worn down for\n        want of food and raiment, he bewailed this unexpected\n        change. Now, according to this custom, a man was chosen\n        whose mind was furnished with much understanding, who\n        was not led away by sudden prosperity, and was\n        thoughtful and earnest in soul as to how he should best\n        order his affairs. By close questioning, he learned from\n        a wise counsellor the citizens' custom, and the place of\n        exile, and was instructed how he might secure himself.\n        When he knew this, and that he must soon go to the\n        island and leave his acquired and alien kingdom to\n        others, he opened the treasures of which he had for the\n        time free and unrestricted use, and took an abundant\n        quantity of gold and silver and precious stones, and\n        giving them to some trusty servants sent them before him\n        to the island. At the appointed year's end the citizens\n        rose and sent him naked into exile, like those before\n        him. But the other foolish and flitting kings had\n        perished miserably of hunger, while he who had laid up\n        that treasure beforehand lived in lusty abundance and\n        delight, fearless of the turbulent citizens, and\n        felicitating himself on his wise forethought. Think,\n        then, the city this vain and deceitful world, the\n        citizens the principalities and powers of the demons,\n        who lure us with the bait of pleasure, and make us\n        believe enjoyment will last for ever, till the sudden\n        peril of death is upon us.--This parable (which seems to\n        be of purely Hebrew origin) is also found in the old\n        Spanish story-book _El Conde Lucanor_.\n\nClosely allied to the foregoing is the characteristic Jewish parable of\n\n\n_The Man and his Three Friends._\n\nA certain man had three friends, two of whom he loved dearly, but the\nother he lightly esteemed. It happened one day that the king commanded\nhis presence at court, at which he was greatly alarmed, and wished to\nprocure an advocate. Accordingly he went to the two friends whom he\nloved: one flatly refused to accompany him, the other offered to go with\nhim as far as the king's gate, but no farther. In his extremity he\ncalled upon the third friend, whom he least esteemed, and he not only\nwent willingly with him, but so ably defended him before the king that\nhe was acquitted. In like manner, says the Talmudist, every man has\nthree friends when Death summons him to appear before his Creator. His\nfirst friend, whom he loves most, namely, his _money_, cannot go with\nhim a single step; his second, _relations_ and _neighbours_, can only\naccompany him to the grave, but cannot defend him before the Judge;\nwhile his third friend, whom he does not highly esteem, the _law_ and\nhis _good works_, goes with him before the king, and obtains his\nacquittal.[92]\n\n   [92] This is the 9th parable in the romance of Barlaam and\n        Joasaph, where it is told without any variation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother striking and impressive parable akin to the two immediately\npreceding is this of\n\n\n_The Garments._\n\nA king distributed amongst his servants various costly garments. Now\nsome of these servants were wise and some were foolish. And those that\nwere wise said to themselves: \"The king may call again for the garments;\nlet us therefore take care they do not get soiled.\" But the fools took\nno manner of care of theirs, and did all sorts of work in them, so that\nthey became full of spots and grease. Some time afterwards the king\ncalled for the garments. The wise servants brought theirs clean and\nneat, but the foolish servants brought theirs in a sad state, ragged and\nunclean. The king was pleased with the first, and said: \"Let the clean\ngarments be placed in the treasury, and let their keepers depart in\npeace. As for the unclean garments, they must be washed and purified,\nand their foolish keepers must be cast into prison.\"--This parable is\ndesigned to illustrate the passage in Eccles., xii, 7, \"Then shall the\ndust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto\nGod, who gave it\"; which words \"teach us to remember that God gave us\nthe soul in a state of innocence and purity, and that it is therefore\nour duty to return it unto him in the same state as he gave it unto\nus--pure and undefiled.\"\n\n\n_Solomon's Choice_\n\nof Wisdom, in preference to all other precious things, is thus finely\nillustrated: A certain king had an officer whom he fondly loved. One day\nhe desired his favourite to choose anything that he could give, and it\nwould at once be granted him. The officer considered that if he asked\nthe king for gold and silver and precious stones, these would be given\nhim in abundance; then he thought that if he had a more exalted station\nit would be granted; at last he resolved to ask the king for his\ndaughter, since with such a bride both riches and honours would also be\nhis. In like manner did Solomon pray, \"Give thy servant an understanding\nheart,\" when the Lord said to him, \"What shall I give thee?\" (1st Kings,\niii, 5, 9.)\n\nBut perhaps the most beautiful and touching of all the Talmudic parables\nis the following (Polano's version), in which Israel is likened to a\nbride, waiting sadly, yet hopefully, for the coming of her spouse:\n\n\n_Bride and Bridegroom._\n\nThere was once a man who pledged his dearest faith to a maiden beautiful\nand true. For a time all passed pleasantly, and the maiden lived in\nhappiness. But then the man was called from her side, and he left her.\nLong she waited, but still he did not return. Friends pitied her, and\nrivals mocked her; tauntingly they pointed to her and said: \"He has left\nthee, and will never come back.\" The maiden sought her chamber, and read\nin secret the letters which her lover had written to her--the letters in\nwhich he promised to be ever faithful, ever true. Weeping, she read\nthem, but they brought comfort to her heart; she dried her eyes and\ndoubted not. A joyous day dawned for her: the man she loved returned,\nand when he learned that others had doubted, while she had not, he asked\nher how she had preserved her faith; and she showed his letters to him,\ndeclaring her eternal trust. [In like manner] Israel, in misery and\ncaptivity, was mocked by the nations; her hopes of redemption were made\na laughing-stock; her sages scoffed at; her holy men derided. Into her\nsynagogues, into her schools, went Israel. She read the letters which\nher God had written, and believed in the holy promises which they\ncontained. God will in time redeem her; and when he says: \"How could you\nalone be faithful of all the mocking nations?\" she will point to the law\nand answer: \"Had not thy law been my delight, I should long since have\nperished in my affliction.\"[93]\n\n   [93] Psalm cxix, 92.--By the way, it is probably known to\n        most readers that the twenty-two sections into which\n        this grand poem is divided are named after the letters\n        of the Hebrew alphabet; but from the translation given\n        in our English Bible no one could infer that in the\n        original every one of the eight verses in each section\n        begins with the letter after which it is named, thus\n        forming a very long acrostic.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the account of the Call of Abraham given in the Book of Genesis, xii,\n1-3, we are not told that his people were all idolaters; but in the Book\nof Joshua, xxiv, 1-2, it is said that the great successor of Moses, when\nhe had \"waxed old and was stricken with age,\" assembled the tribes of\nIsrael, at Shechem, and said to the people: \"Your fathers dwelt on the\nother side of the flood in old time, even Terah, the father of Abraham\nand the father of Nachor; and they served other gods.\" The sacred\nnarrative does not state the circumstances which induced Abraham to turn\naway from the worship of false deities, but the information is furnished\nby the Talmudists--possibly from ancient oral tradition--in this\ninteresting tale of\n\n\n_Abraham and the Idols._\n\nAbraham's father Terah, who dwelt in Ur of the Chaldees, was not only an\nidolater, but a maker of idols. Having occasion to go a journey of some\ndistance, he instructed Abraham how to conduct the business of\nidol-selling during his absence. The future founder of the Hebrew\nnation, however, had already obtained a knowledge of the true and living\nGod, and consequently held the practice of idolatry in the utmost\nabhorrence. Accordingly, whenever any one came to buy an idol Abraham\ninquired his age, and upon his answering, \"I am fifty (or sixty) years\nold,\" he would exclaim, \"Woe to the man of fifty who would worship the\nwork of man's hands!\" and his father's customers went away shamefaced at\nthe rebuke. But, not content with this mode of showing his contempt for\nidolatry, Abraham resolved to bring matters to a crisis before his\nfather returned home; and an opportunity was presented for his purpose\none day when a woman came to Terah's house with a bowl of fine flour,\nwhich she desired Abraham to place as a votive offering before the\nidols. Instead of doing this, however, Abraham took a hammer and broke\nall the idols into fragments excepting the largest, into whose hands he\nthen placed the hammer. On Terah's return he discovered the destruction\nof his idols, and angrily demanded of Abraham, who had done the\nmischief. \"There came hither a woman,\" replied Abraham, \"with a bowl of\nfine flour, which, as she desired, I set before the gods, whereupon they\ndisputed among themselves who should eat first, and the tallest god\nbroke all the rest into pieces with the hammer.\" \"What fable is this\nthou art telling me?\" exclaimed Terah. \"As for the god thou speakest of,\nis he not the work of my own hands?' Did I not carve him out of the\ntimber of the tree which I cut down in the wilderness? How, then, could\nhe have done this evil? Verily _thou_ hast broken my idols!\" \"Consider,\nmy father,\" said Abraham, \"what it is thou sayest--that I am capable of\ndestroying the gods which thou dost worship!\" Then Terah took and\ndelivered him to Nimrod, who said to Abraham: \"Let us worship the fire.\"\nTo which Abraham replied: \"Rather the water that quenches the fire.\"\n\"Well, the water.\" \"Rather the cloud which carries the water.\" \"Well,\nthe cloud.\" \"Rather the wind that scatters the cloud.\" \"Well, the wind.\"\n\"Rather man, for he endures the wind.\" \"Thou art a babbler!\" exclaimed\nNimrod. \"I worship the fire, and will cast thee into it. Perchance the\nGod whom thou dost adore will deliver thee from thence.\" Abraham was\naccordingly thrown into a heated furnace, but God saved him.[94]\n\n   [94] After Abraham had walked to and fro unscathed amidst the\n        fierce flames for three days, the faggots were suddenly\n        transformed into a blooming garden of roses and\n        fruit-trees and odoriferous plants.--This legend is\n        introduced into the Kuran, and Muslim writers, when they\n        expatiate on the almighty power of Allah, seldom omit to\n        make reference to Nimrod's flaming furnace being turned\n        into a bed of roses.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAlexander the Great is said to have wept because there were no more\nworlds for him to conquer; and truly says the sage Hebrew King, \"The\ngrave and destruction can never have enough, nor are the eyes of man\never satisfied\" (Prov. xxvii, 20), a sentiment which the following tale,\nor parable, is designed to exemplify:\n\n\n_The Vanity of Ambition._\n\nPursuing his journey through dreary deserts and uncultivated ground,\nAlexander came at last to a small rivulet, whose waters glided\npeacefully along their shelving banks. Its smooth, unruffled surface was\nthe image of contentment, and seemed in its silence to say, \"This is the\nabode of tranquility.\" All was still: not a sound was heard save soft\nmurmuring tones which seemed to whisper in the ear of the weary\ntraveller, \"Come, and partake of nature's bounty,\" and to complain that\nsuch an offer should be made in vain. To a contemplative mind, such a\nscene might have suggested a thousand delightful reflections. But what\ncharms could it have for the soul of Alexander, whose breast was filled\nwith schemes of ambition and conquest; whose eye was familiarised with\nrapine and slaughter; and whose ears were accustomed to the clash of\narms--to the groans of the wounded and the dying? Onward, therefore, he\nmarched. Yet, overcome by fatigue and hunger, he was soon obliged to\nhalt. He seated himself on the bank of the river, took a draught of the\nwater, which he found of a very fine flavour and most refreshing. He\nthen ordered some salt fish, with which he was well provided, to be\nbrought to him. These he caused to be dipped in the stream, in order to\ntake off the briny taste, and was greatly surprised to find them emit a\nfine fragrance. \"Surely,\" said he, \"this river, which possesses such\nuncommon qualities, must flow from some very rich and happy country.\"\n\nFollowing the course of the river, he at length arrived at the gates of\nParadise. The gates were shut. He knocked, and, with his usual\nimpetuosity, demanded admittance. \"Thou canst not be admitted here,\"\nexclaimed a voice from within; \"this gate is the Lord's.\" \"I am the\nLord--the Lord of the earth,\" rejoined the impatient chief. \"I am\nAlexander the Conqueror. Will you not admit _me_?\" \"No,\" was the answer;\n\"here we know of no conquerors, save such as conquer their passions:\n_None but the just can enter here_.\" Alexander endeavoured in vain to\nenter the abode of the blessed--neither entreaties nor menaces availed.\nSeeing all his attempts fruitless, he addressed himself to the guardian\nof Paradise, and said: \"You know I am a great king, who has received the\nhomage of nations. Since you will not admit me, give me at least some\ntoken that I may show an astonished world that I have been where no\nmortal has ever been before me.\" \"Here, madman,\" said the guardian of\nParadise--\"here is something for thee. It may cure the maladies of thy\ndistempered soul. One glance at it may teach thee more wisdom than thou\nhast hitherto derived from all thy former instructors. Now go thy ways.\"\n\nAlexander took the present with avidity, and repaired to his tent. But\nwhat was his confusion and surprise to find, on examining his present,\nthat it was nothing but a fragment of a human skull. \"And is this,\"\nexclaimed he, \"the mighty gift that they bestow on kings and heroes? Is\nthis the fruit of so much toil and danger and care?\" Enraged and\ndisappointed, he threw it on the ground. \"Great king,\" said one of the\nlearned men who were present, \"do not despise this gift. Contemptible as\nit may appear in thine eyes, it yet possesses some extraordinary\nqualities, of which thou mayest soon be convinced, if thou wilt but\ncause it to be weighed against gold or silver.\" Alexander ordered this\nto be done. A pair of scales were brought. The skull was placed in one,\na quantity of gold in the other; when, to the astonishment of the\nbeholders, the skull over-balanced the gold. More gold was added, yet\nstill the skull preponderated. In short, the more gold there was put in\nthe one scale the lower sank that which contained the skull. \"Strange,\"\nexclaimed Alexander, \"that so small a portion of matter should outweigh\nso large a mass of gold! Is there nothing that will counterpoise it?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered the philosophers, \"a very little matter will do it.\"\nThey then took some earth and covered the skull with it, when\nimmediately down went the gold, and the opposite scale ascended. \"This\nis very extraordinary,\" said Alexander, astonished. \"Can you explain\nthis phenomenon?\" \"Great king,\" said the sages, \"this fragment is the\nsocket of a human eye, which, though small in compass, is yet unbounded\nin its desires. The more it has, the more it craves. Neither gold nor\nsilver nor any other earthly possession can ever satisfy it. But when it\nis once laid in the grave and covered with a little earth, there is an\nend to its lust and ambition.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nShakspeare's well-known masterly description of the Seven Ages of Man,\nwhich he puts into the mouth of the melancholy Jaques (_As You Like It_,\nii, 7), was anticipated by Rabbi Simon, the son of Eliezer, in this\nTalmudic description of\n\n\n_The Seven Stages of Human Life._\n\nSeven times in one verse did the author of Ecclesiastes make use of the\nword _vanity_, in allusion to the seven stages of human life.[95]\n\n   [95] Eccles., i, 2. The word Vanity (remarks Hurwitz, the\n        translator) occurs twice in the plural, which the Rabbi\n        considered as equivalent to four, and three times in the\n        singular, making altogether _seven_.\n\nThe first commences in the first year of human existence, when the\n_infant_ lies like a king on a soft couch, with numerous attendants\nabout him, all ready to serve him, and eager to testify their love and\nattachment by kisses and embraces.\n\nThe second commences about the age of two or three years, when the\ndarling _child_ is permitted to crawl on the ground, and, like an\nunclean animal, delights in dirt and filth.\n\nThen at the age of ten, the thoughtless _boy_, without reflecting on the\npast or caring for the future, jumps and skips about like a young kid on\nthe enamelled green, contented to enjoy the present moment.\n\nThe fourth stage begins about the age of twenty, when the _young man_,\nfull of vanity and pride, begins to set off his person by dress; and,\nlike a young unbroken horse, prances and gallops about in search of a\nwife.\n\nThen comes the _matrimonial state_, when the poor _man_, like a patient\nass, is obliged, however reluctantly, to toil and labour for a living.\n\nBehold him now in the _parental state_, when surrounded by helpless\nchildren craving his support and looking to him for bread. He is as\nbold, as vigilant, and as fawning, too, as the faithful dog; guarding\nhis little flock, and snatching at everything that comes in his way, in\norder to provide for his offspring.\n\nAt last comes the final stage, when the decrepit _old man_, like the\nunwieldy though most sagacious elephant, becomes grave, sedate, and\ndistrustful. He then also begins to hang down his head towards the\nground, as if surveying the place where all his vast schemes must\nterminate, and where ambition and vanity are finally humbled to the\ndust.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut the Talmudist, in his turn, was forestalled by Bhartrihari, an\nancient Hindu sage, one of whose three hundred apothegms has been thus\nrendered into English by Sir Monier Williams:\n\n  Now for a little while a child; and now\n  An amorous youth; then for a season turned\n  Into a wealthy householder; then, stripped\n  Of all his riches, with decrepit limbs\n  And wrinkled frame, man creeps towards the end\n  Of life's erratic course; and, like an actor,\n  Passes behind Death's curtain out of view.\n\nHere, however, the Indian philosopher describes human life as consisting\nof only four scenes; but, like our own Shakspeare, he compares the world\nto a stage and man to a player. An epigram preserved in the _Anthologia_\nalso likens the world to a theatre and human life to a drama:\n\n  This life a theatre we well may call,\n    Where every actor must perform with art;\n  Or laugh it through, and make a farce of all,\n    Or learn to bear with grace a tragic part.\n\nIt is surely both instructive and interesting thus to discover\nresemblances in thought and expression in the writings of men of\ncomprehensive intellect, who lived in countries and in times far apart.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nWISE SAYINGS OF THE RABBIS.\n\n\n\"Concise sentences,\" says Bacon, \"like darts, fly abroad and make\nimpressions, while long discourses are flat things, and not regarded.\"\nAnd Seneca has remarked that \"even rude and uncultivated minds are\nstruck, as it were, with those short but weighty sentences which\nanticipate all reasoning by flashing truths upon them at once.\" Wise men\nin all ages seem to have been fully aware of the advantage of condensing\ninto pithy sentences the results of their observations of the course of\nhuman life; and the following selection of sayings of the Jewish\nFathers, taken from the _Pirke Aboth_ (the 41st treatise of the Talmud,\ncompiled by Nathan of Babylon, A.D. 200), and other sources, will be\nfound to be quite as sagacious as the aphorisms of the most celebrated\nphilosophers of India and Greece:\n\nThis world is like an ante-chamber in comparison with the world to come;\nprepare thyself in the ante-chamber, therefore, that thou mayest enter\ninto the dining-room.\n\nBe humble to a superior, and affable to an inferior, and receive all men\nwith cheerfulness.\n\nBe not scornful to any, nor be opposed to all things; for there is no\nman that hath not his hour, nor is there anything which hath not its\nplace.\n\nAttempt not to appease thy neighbour in the time of his anger, nor\ncomfort him in the time when his dead is lying before him, nor ask of\nhim in the time of his vowing, nor desire to see him in the time of his\ncalamity.[96]\n\n   [96] \"Do not,\" says Nakhshabi, \"try to move by persuasion the\n        soul that is afflicted with grief. The heart that is\n        overwhelmed with the billows of sorrow will, by slow\n        degrees, return to itself.\"\n\nHold no man responsible for his utterances in times of grief.\n\nWho gains wisdom? He who is willing to receive instruction from all\nsources. Who is rich? He who is content with his lot. Who is deserving\nof honour? He who honoureth mankind. Who is the mighty man? He who\nsubdueth his temper.[97]\n\n   [97] \"He who subdueth his temper is a mighty man,\" says the\n        Talmudist; and Solomon had said so before him: \"He that\n        is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that\n        ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city\" (Prov.\n        xvi, 32). A curious parallel to these words is found in\n        an ancient Buddhistic work, entitled _Buddha's\n        Dhammapada_, or Path of Virtue, as follows: \"If one man\n        conquer in battle a thousand times a thousand men, and\n        if another conquer himself, he is the greatest of\n        conquerors.\" (Professor Max Mueller's translation,\n        prefixed to _Buddhagosha's Parables_, translated by\n        Captain Rogers.)\n\nWhen a liar speaks the truth, he finds his punishment in being generally\ndisbelieved.\n\nThe physician who prescribes gratuitously gives a worthless\nprescription.\n\nHe who hardens his heart with pride softens his brains with the same.\n\nThe day is short, the labour vast; but the labourers are still slothful,\nthough the reward is great, and the Master presseth for despatch.[98]\n\n   [98] Cf. Saadi, _ante_, page 41, \"Life is snow,\" etc.\n\nHe who teacheth a child is like one who writeth on new paper; and he who\nteacheth old people is like one who writeth on blotted paper.[99]\n\n   [99] Locke was anticipated not only by the Talmudist, as\n        above, but long before him by Aristotle, who termed the\n        infant soul _tabula rasa_, which was in all likelihood\n        borrowed by the author of the Persian work on the\n        practical philosophy of the Muhammedans, entitled\n        _Akhlak-i-Jalaly_, who says: \"The minds of children are\n        like a clear tablet, equally open to all inscriptions.\"\n\nFirst learn and then teach.\n\nTeach thy tongue to say, \"I do not know.\"\n\nThe birds of the air despise a miser.\n\nIf thy goods sell not in one city, take them to another.\n\nVictuals prepared by many cooks will be neither cold nor hot.[100]\n\n  [100] Too many cooks spoil the broth.--_English Proverb_.\n\nTwo pieces of money in a large jar make more noise than a hundred.[101]\n\n  [101] Two farthings and a thimble\n        In a tailor's pocket make a jingle.--_English Saying_.\n\nInto the well which supplies thee with water cast no stones.[102]\n\n  [102] \"Don't speak ill of the bridge that bore you safe over\n        the stream\" seems to be the European equivalent.\n\nWhen love is intense, both find room enough upon one bench; afterwards,\nthey may find themselves cramped in a space of sixty cubits.[103]\n\n  [103] Python, of Byzantium, was a very corpulent man. He once\n        said to the citizens, in addressing them to make friends\n        after a political dispute: \"Gentlemen, you see how stout\n        I am. Well, I have a wife at home who is still stouter.\n        Now, when we are good friends, we can sit together on a\n        very small couch; but when we quarrel, I do assure you,\n        the whole house cannot contain us.\"--_Athenaeus_, xii.\n\nThe place honours not the man; it is the man who gives honour to the\nplace.\n\nFew are they who see their own faults.[104]\n\n  [104] Compare Burns:\n\n          O wad some power the giftie gie us\n          To see oursels as ithers see us!\n\nThy friend has a friend, and thy friend's friend has a friend: be\ndiscreet.[105]\n\n  [105] See the Persian aphorisms on revealing secrets, _ante_,\n        p. 48.--Burns, in his \"Epistle to a Young Friend,\" says:\n\n          Aye free aff hand your story tell\n            When wi' a bosom crony,\n          But still keep something to yoursel'\n            Ye scarcely tell to ony.\n\nPoverty sits as gracefully upon some people as a red saddle upon a white\nhorse.\n\nRather be thou the tail among lions than the head among foxes.[106]\n\n  [106] The very reverse of our English proverb, \"Better to be\n        the head of the commonalty than the tail of the gentry.\"\n\nThe thief who finds no opportunity to steal considers himself an honest\nman.\n\nUse thy noble vase to-day, for to-morrow it may perchance be broken.\n\nDescend a step in choosing thy wife; ascend a step in choosing thy\nfriend.\n\nA myrtle even in the dust remains a myrtle.[107]\n\n  [107] Saadi has the same sentiment in his _Gulislan_--see\n        _ante_, p. 49.\n\nEvery one whose wisdom exceedeth his deeds, to what is he like? To a\ntree whose branches are many and its roots few; and the wind cometh and\nplucketh it up, and overturneth it on its face.[108]\n\n  [108] See also Saadi's aphorisms on precept and practice,\n        _ante_, p. 47.\n\nIf a word spoken in time be worth one piece of money, silence in its\nplace is worth two.[109]\n\n  [109] Here we have a variant of Thomas Carlyle's favourite\n        maxim, \"Speech is silvern; silence is golden.\"\n\nSilence is the fence round wisdom.[110]\n\n  [110] \"Nothing is so good for an ignorant man as silence; and\n        if he were sensible of this he would not be\n        ignorant.\"--_Saadi_.\n\nA saying ascribed to Esop has been frequently cited with admiration. The\nsage Chilo asked Esop what God was doing, and he answered that he was\n\"depressing the proud and exalting the humble.\" A parallel to this is\npresented in the answer of Rabbi Jose to a woman who asked him what God\nhad been doing since the creation: \"He makes ladders on which he causes\nthe poor to ascend and the rich to descend,\" in other words, exalts the\nlowly and humbles the haughty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe lucid explanation of the expression, \"I, God, am a jealous God,\"\ngiven by a Rabbi, has been thus elegantly translated by Coleridge:[111]\n\n  [111] _The Friend_, ed. 1850, vol. ii, p. 249.\n\n\"Your God,\" said a heathen philosopher to a Hebrew Rabbi, \"in his Book\ncalls himself a jealous God, who can endure no other god besides\nhimself, and on all occasions makes manifest his abhorrence of idolatry.\nHow comes it, then, that he threatens and seems to hate the worshippers\nof false gods more than the false gods themselves?\"\n\n\"A certain king,\" said the Rabbi, \"had a disobedient son. Among other\nworthless tricks of various kinds, he had the baseness to give his dogs\nhis father's names and titles. Should the king show anger with the\nprince or his dogs?\"\n\n\"Well-turned,\" replied the philosopher; but if God destroyed the objects\nof idolatry, he would take away the temptation to it.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" retorted the Rabbi; \"if the fools worshipped such things only as\nwere of no farther use than that to which their folly applied them--if\nthe idol were always as worthless as the idolatry is contemptible. But\nthey worship the sun, the moon, the host of heaven, the rivers, the sea,\nfire, air, and what not. Would you that the Creator, for the sake of\nthose fools, should ruin his own works, and disturb the laws applied to\nnature by his own wisdom? If a man steal grain and sow it, should the\nseed not shoot up out of the earth because it was stolen? O no! The wise\nCreator lets nature run its own course, for its course is his own\nappointment. And what if the children of folly abuse it to evil? The day\nof reckoning is not far off, and men will then learn that human actions\nlikewise reappear in their consequences by as certain a law as that\nwhich causes the green blade to rise up out of the buried cornfield.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNot less conclusive was the form of illustration employed by Rabbi\nJoshuah in answer to the emperor Trajan. \"You teach,\" said Trajan, \"that\nyour God is everywhere. I should like to see him.\" \"God's presence,\"\nreplied the Rabbi, \"is indeed everywhere, but he cannot be seen. No\nmortal can behold his glory.\" Trajan repeated his demand. \"Well,\" said\nthe Rabbi, \"suppose we try, in the first place, to look at one of his\nambassadors.\" The emperor consented, and Joshuah took him into the open\nair, and desired him to look at the sun in its meridian splendour. \"I\ncannot,\" said Trajan; \"the light dazzles me.\" \"Thou canst not endure the\nlight of one of his creatures,\" said the Rabbi, \"yet dost thou expect to\nbehold the effulgent glory of the Creator!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur selections from the sayings of the Hebrew Fathers might be largely\nextended, but we shall conclude them with the following: A Rabbi, being\nasked why God dealt out manna to the Israelites day by day, instead of\ngiving them a supply sufficient for a year, or more, answered by a\nparable to this effect: There was once a king who gave a certain yearly\nallowance to his son, whom he saw, in consequence, but once a year, when\nhe came to receive it; so the king changed his plan, and paid him his\nallowance daily, and thus had the pleasure of seeing his son each day.\nAnd so with the manna: had God given the people a supply for a year they\nwould have forgotten their divine benefactor, but by sending them each\nday the requisite quantity, they had God constantly in their minds.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere can be no doubt that the Rabbis derived the materials of many of\ntheir legends and tales of Biblical characters from foreign sources; but\ntheir beautiful moral stories and parables, which \"hide a rich truth in\na tale's pretence,\" are probably for the most part of their own\ninvention; and the fact that the Talmud was partially, if not wholly,\ntranslated into Arabic shortly after the settlement of the Moors in\nSpain sufficiently accounts for the early introduction of rabbinical\nlegends into Muhammedan works, apart from those found in the Kuran.\n\n\n\n\n_ADDITIONAL NOTES._\n\n\nADAM AND THE OIL OF MERCY.\n\nIn the apocryphal Revelation of Moses, which appears to be of Rabbinical\nextraction, Adam, when near his end, informs his sons; that, because of\nhis transgression, God had laid upon his body seventy strokes, or\nplagues. The trouble of the first stroke was injury to the eyes; the\ntrouble of the second stroke, of the hearing; and so on, in succession,\nall the strokes should overtake him. And Adam, thus speaking to his\nsons, groaned out loud, and said, \"What shall I do? I am in great\ngrief.\" And Eve also wept, saying: \"My lord Adam, arise; give me the\nhalf of thy disease, and let me bear it, because through me this has\nhappened to thee; through me thou art in distresses and troubles.\" And\nAdam said to Eve: \"Arise, and go with our son Seth near Paradise, and\nput earth upon your heads, and weep, beseeching the Lord that he may\nhave compassion upon me, and send his angel to Paradise, and give me of\nthe tree out of which flows the oil, that thou mayest bring it unto me;\nand I shall anoint myself and have rest, and show thee the manner in\nwhich we were deceived at first.\"... And Seth went with his mother Eve\nnear Paradise, and they wept there, beseeching God to send his angel to\ngive them the Oil of Compassion. And God sent to them the archangel\nMichael, who said to them these words: \"Seth, man of God, do not weary\nthyself praying in this supplication about the tree from which flows the\noil to anoint thy father Adam; for it will not happen to thee now, but\nat the last times.... Do thou again go to thy father, since the measure\nof his life is fulfilled, saving three days.\"\n\nThe Revelation, or Apocalypse, of Moses, remarks Mr. Alex. Walker (from\nwhose translation the foregoing is extracted: _Apocryphal Gospels, Acts,\nand Revelations_, 1870), \"belongs rather to the Old Testament than to\nthe New. We have been unable to find in it any reference to any\nChristian writing. In its form, too, it appears to be a portion of some\nlarger work. Parts of it at least are of an ancient date, as it is very\nlikely from this source that the celebrated legend of the Tree of Life\nand the Oil of Mercy was derived\"--an account of which, from the German\nof Dr. Piper, is given in the _Journal of Sacred Literature_, October,\n1864, vol. vi (N.S.), p. 30 ff.\n\n\nMUSLIM LEGEND OF ADAM'S PUNISHMENT, PARDON, DEATH, AND BURIAL.\n\nWhen \"our first parents\" were expelled from Paradise, Adam fell upon the\nmountain in Ceylon which still retains his name (\"Adam's Peak\"), while\nEve descended at Juddah, which is the port of Mecca, in Arabia. Seated\non the pinnacle of the highest mountain in Ceylon, with the orisons of\nthe angelic choirs still vibrating in his ears, the fallen progenitor of\nthe human race had sufficient leisure to bewail his guilt, forbearing\nall food and sustenance for the space of forty days.[112] But Allah,\nwhose mercy ever surpasses his indignation, and who sought not the death\nof the wretched penitent, then despatched to his relief the angel\nGabriel, who presented him with a quantity of wheat, taken from that\nfatal tree[113] for which he had defied the wrath of his Creator, with\nthe information that it was to be for food to him and to his children.\nAt the same time he was directed to set it in the earth, and afterwards\nto grind it into flour. Adam obeyed, for it was part of his penalty that\nhe should toil for sustenance; and the same day the corn sprang up and\narrived at maturity, thus affording him an immediate resource against\nthe evils of hunger and famine. For the benevolent archangel did not\nquit him until he had farther taught him how to construct a mill on the\nside of the mountain, to grind his corn, and also how to convert the\nflour into dough and bake it into bread.\n\n  [112] The number Forty occurs very frequently in the Bible\n        (especially the Old Testament) in connection with\n        important events, and also in Asiatic tales. It is, in\n        fact, regarded with peculiar veneration alike by Jews\n        and Muhammedans. See notes to my _Group of Eastern\n        Romances and Stories_ (1889), pp. 140 and 456.\n\n  [113] The \"fruit of the forbidden tree\" was not an apple, as\n        we Westerns fondly believe, but _wheat_, say the Muslim\n        doctors.\n\nWith regard to the forlorn associate of his guilt, from whom a long and\npainful separation constituted another article in the punishment of his\ndisobedience, it is briefly related that, experiencing also for the\nfirst time the craving of hunger, she instinctively dipped her hand into\nthe sea and brought out a fish, and laying it on a rock in the sun, thus\nprepared her first meal in this her state of despair and destitution.\n\nAdam continued to deplore his guilt on the mountain for a period of one\nhundred years, and it is said that from his tears, with which he\nmoistened the earth during this interval of remorse, there grew up that\nuseful variety of plants and herbs which in after times by their\nmedicinal qualities served to alleviate the afflictions of the human\nrace; and to this circumstance is to be ascribed the fact that the most\nuseful drugs in the _materia medica_ continue to this day to be supplied\nfrom the peninsula of India and the adjoining islands. The angel Gabriel\nhad now tamed the wild ox of the field, and Allah himself had discovered\nto Adam in the caverns of the same mountain that most important of\nminerals, iron, which he soon learned to fashion into a variety of\narticles necessary to the successful prosecution of his increasing\nlabours. At the termination of one hundred years, consumed in toil and\nsorrow, Adam having been instructed by the angel Gabriel in a\npenitential formula by which he might hope yet to conciliate Allah, the\njustice of Heaven was satisfied, and his repentance was finally accepted\nby the Most High. The joy of Adam was now as intense as his previous\nsorrow had been extreme, and another century passed, during which the\ntears with which Adam--from very different emotions--now bedewed the\nearth were not less effectual in producing every species of fragrant and\naromatic flower and shrub, to delight the eye and gratify the sense of\nsmell by their odours, than they were formerly in the generation of\nmedicinal plants to assuage the sufferings of humanity.\n\nTradition has ascribed to Adam a stature so stupendous that when he\nstood or walked his forehead brushed the skies; and it is stated that he\nthus partook in the converse of the angels, even after his fall. But\nthis, by perpetually holding to his view the happiness which he had\nlost, instead of alleviating, contributed in a great degree to aggravate\nhis misery, and to deprive him of all repose upon earth. Allah,\ntherefore, in pity of his sufferings, shortened his stature to one\nhundred cubits, so that the harmony of the celestial hosts should no\nlonger reach his ear.\n\nThen Allah caused to be raised up for Adam a magnificent pavilion, or\ntemple, constructed entirely of rubies, on the spot which is now\noccupied by the sacred Kaaba at Mecca, and which is in the centre of the\nearth and immediately beneath the throne of Allah. The forlorn Eve--whom\nAdam had almost forgotten amidst his own sorrows--in the course of her\nweary wanderings came to the palace of her spouse, and, once more\nunited, they returned to Ceylon. But Adam revisited the sacred pavilion\nat Mecca every year until his death. And wherever he set his foot there\narose, and exists to this day, some city, town, or village, or other\nplace to indicate the presence of man and of human cultivation. The\nspaces between his footsteps--three days' journey--long remained barren\nwilderness.\n\nOn the twentieth day of that disorder which terminated the earthly\nexistence of Adam, the divine will was revealed to him through the angel\nGabriel, that he was to make an immediate bequest of his power as\nAllah's vicegerent on earth to Shayth, or Seth, the discreetest and most\nvirtuous of all his sons, which having done, he resigned his soul to the\nAngel of Death on the following day. Seth buried his venerable parent on\nthe summit of the mountain in Ceylon (\"Adam's Peak\"); but some writers\nassert that he was buried under Mount Abu Kebyss, about three miles from\nMecca. Eve died a twelvemonth after her husband, and was buried in his\ngrave. Noah conveyed their remains in the ark, and afterwards interred\nthem in Jerusalem, at the spot afterwards known as Mount Calvary.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe foregoing is considerably abridged from _An Essay towards the\nHistory of Arabia, antecedent to the Birth of Mahommed, arranged from\nthe 'Tarikh Tebry' and other authentic sources_, by Major David Price,\nLondon, 1824, pp. 4, 11.--We miss in this curious legend the brief but\npathetic account of the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of\nEden, as found in the last two verses of the 3rd chapter of Genesis,\nwhich suggested to Milton the fine conclusion of his _Paradise Lost_:\nhow \"some natural tears they dropped,\" as the unhappy pair went\narm-in-arm out of Paradise--and \"the world was all before them, where to\nchoose.\" Adam's prolonged residence at the top of a high mountain in\nCeylon seems to be of purely Muhammedan invention; and assuredly the\nArabian Prophet did not obtain from the renegade Jew who is said to have\nassisted him in the composition of the Kuran the \"information\" that\nAllah taught Adam the mystery of working in iron, since in the Book of\nGenesis (iv, 22) it is stated that Tubal-cain was \"an instructor of\nevery artificer in brass and iron,\" as his brother Jubal was \"the father\nof all such as handle the harp and the organ\" (21).--The disinterment of\nthe bones of Adam and Eve by Noah before the Flood began and their\nsubsequent burial at the spot on which Jerusalem was afterwards built,\nas also the stature of Adam, are, of course, derived from Jewish\ntradition.\n\n\nMOSES AND THE POOR WOODCUTTER.\n\nThe following interesting legend is taken from Mrs. Meer Hassan Ali's\n_Observations on the Mussulmans of India_ (1832), vol. i, pp. 170-175.\nIt was translated by her husband (an Indian Muslim) from a commentary on\nthe history of Musa, or Moses, the great Hebrew lawgiver, and in all\nprobability is of rabbinical origin:\n\nWhen the prophet Musa--to whose spirit be peace!--was on earth, there\nlived near him a poor but remarkably religious man, who had for many\nyears supported himself and his wife by the daily occupation of cutting\nwood for his richer neighbours, four small copper coins being the reward\nof his toil, which at best afforded the poor couple but a scanty meal\nafter his day's exertions. One morning the Prophet Musa, passing the\nwoodcutter, was thus addressed: \"O Musa! Prophet of the Most High!\nbehold I labour each day for my coarse and scanty meal. May it please\nthee, O Prophet! to make petition for me to our gracious God, that he\nmay, in his mercy, grant me at once the whole supply for my remaining\nyears, so that I shall enjoy one day of earthly happiness, and then,\nwith my wife, be transferred to the place of eternal rest.\" Musa\npromised, and made the required petition. His prayer was thus answered\nfrom Mount Tor: \"This man's life is long, O Musa! Nevertheless, if he be\nwilling to surrender life when his supply is exhausted, tell him thy\nprayer is heard, the petition accepted, and the whole amount shall be\nfound beneath his prayer-carpet after his morning prayers.\"\n\nThe woodcutter was satisfied when Musa told him the result of his\npetition, and, the first duties of the morning being performed, he\nfailed not in looking for the promised gift, and to his surprise found a\nheap of silver coins in the place indicated. Calling his wife, he told\nher what he had acquired of the Lord through his holy prophet Musa, and\nthey both agreed that it was very good to enjoy a short life of\nhappiness on earth and depart in peace; although they could not help\nagain and again recurring to the number of years on earth they had thus\nsacrificed. \"We will make as many hearts rejoice as this the Lord's gift\nwill permit,\" they both agreed; \"and thus we shall secure in our future\nstate the blessed abode promised to those who fulfil the commands of God\nin this life, since to-morrow it must close for us.\"\n\nThe day was spent in procuring and preparing provisions for the feast.\nThe whole sum was expended on the best sorts of food, and the poor were\nmade acquainted with the rich treat the woodcutter and his wife were\ncooking for their benefit. The food being cooked, allotments were made\nto each hungry applicant, and the couple reserved to themselves one good\nsubstantial meal, which was to be eaten only after the poor were all\nserved and satisfied. It happened at the very moment they were seated to\nenjoy this their last meal, as they believed, a voice was heard, saying:\n\"O friend! I have heard of your feast; I am late, yet it may be that you\nhave still a little to spare, for I am hungry to my very heart. The\nblessing of God be on him who relieves my present sufferings from\nhunger!\" The woodcutter and his wife agreed that it would be much better\nfor them to go to Paradise with half a meal than to leave one fellow\ncreature famishing on earth. So they shared their own portion with him\nwho had none, and he went away from them rejoicing. \"Now,\" said the\nhappy pair, \"we shall eat of our half-share with unmixed delight, and\nwith thankful hearts. By to-morrow evening we shall be transferred to\nParadise.\"\n\nThey had scarcely raised the savoury food to their mouths when a\nbewailing voice arrested their attention, and stayed the hands already\ncharged with food. A poor creature who had not tasted food for two days\nmoaned his piteous tale, in accents which drew tears from the woodcutter\nand his wife; their eyes met and the sympathy was mutual: they were more\nwilling to depart for Paradise without the promised benefit of one\nearthly enjoyment, than suffer the hungry man to die from want of that\nmeal they had before them. The dish was promptly tendered to the\nunfortunate one, and the woodcutter and his wife consoled each other\nwith reflecting that, as the time of their departure was now so near at\nhand, the temporary enjoyment of a meal was not worth one moment's\nconsideration: \"To-morrow we die; then of what consequence is it to us\nwhether we depart with full or empty stomachs?\"\n\nAnd now their thoughts were set on the place of eternal rest. They\nslept, and arose to their morning orisons with hearts reposing humbly on\ntheir God, in the fullest expectation that this was their last day on\nearth. The prayer was concluded, and the woodcutter was in the act of\nrolling up his carpet, on which he had prostrated himself with\ngratitude, reverence, and love to his Creator, when he perceived a fresh\nheap of silver on the floor. He could scarcely believe but it was a\ndream. \"How wonderful art thou, O God!\" cried he. \"This is thy bounteous\ngift, that I may indeed enjoy one day before I quit this earth.\" And\nMusa, when he came to him, was satisfied with the goodness and the power\nof God. But he retired again to the Mount, to inquire of God the cause\nof the woodcutter's respite. The reply which Musa received was as\nfollows: \"That man has faithfully applied the wealth given in answer to\nhis petition. He is worthy to live out his numbered years on earth who,\nreceiving my bounty, thought not of his own enjoyments whilst his fellow\nmen had wants which he could supply.\" And to the end of the\nwood-cutter's long life God's bounty lessened not in substance; neither\ndid the pious man relax in his charitable duties of sharing with the\nindigent all that he had, and with the same disregard of his own\nenjoyments.\n\n\nPRECOCIOUS SAGACITY OF SOLOMON.\n\nCommentators on the Kuran state that while Solomon was still a mere\nyouth he frequently upset the decisions of the judges in open court, and\nthey became displeased with his interference, though they could not but\nconfess to themselves that his judgment was always superior to theirs.\nHaving prevailed upon King David to permit the sagacity of his son to be\npublicly tested, they plied him with what they deemed very difficult\nquestions, which, however, were hardly uttered before he answered them\ncorrectly, and at length they became silent and shame-faced. Then\nSolomon rose and said (I take the paragraph which follows from the\nEnglish translation of Dr. Weil's interesting work, _The Bible, the\nKoran, and the Talmud_, 1846, p. 165 f.):\n\n\"You have exhausted yourselves in subtleties, in the hope of manifesting\nyour superiority over me before this great assembly. Permit me now also\nto put to you a very few simple questions, the solution of which needs\nno manner of study, but only a little intellect and understanding. Tell\nme: What is Everything, and what is Nothing? Who is Something, and who\nis less than Nothing?\" Solomon waited long, and when the judge whom he\nhad addressed was not able to answer, he said: \"Allah, the Creator, is\nEverything, and the world, the creature, is Nothing. The believer is\nSomething, but the hypocrite is less than Nothing.\" Turning to another,\nSolomon inquired: \"Which are the most in number, and which are the\nfewest? What is the sweetest, and what is the most bitter?\" But as the\nsecond judge also was unable to find proper answers to these questions,\nSolomon said: \"The most numerous are the doubters, and they who possess\na perfect assurance of faith are fewest in number. The sweetest is the\npossession of a virtuous wife, excellent children, and a respectable\ncompetency; but a wicked wife, undutiful children, and poverty are the\nmost bitter.\" Finally Solomon put this question to a third judge: \"Which\nis the vilest, and which is the most beautiful? What is the most\ncertain, and what is the least so?\" But these questions also remained\nunanswered until Solomon said: \"The vilest thing is when a believer\napostasises, and the most beautiful is when a sinner repents. The most\ncertain thing is death and the last judgment, and the most uncertain,\nlife and the fate of the soul after the resurrection. You perceive,\" he\ncontinued, \"it is not the oldest and most learned that are always the\nwisest. True wisdom is neither of years nor of learned books, but only\nof Allah, the All-wise.\"\n\nThe judges were full of admiration, and unanimously lauded the\nunparalleled sagacity of the future ruler of Israel.--The Queen of\nSheba's \"hard questions\" (already referred to, p. 218) were probably of\na somewhat similar nature. Such \"wit combats\" seem to have been formerly\ncommon at the courts and palaces of Asiatic monarchs and nobles; and a\ncurious, but rather tedious, example is furnished in the _Thousand and\nOne Nights_, in the story of Abu al-Husn and his slave Tawaddad, which\nwill be found in vol. iv of Mr. John Payne's and vol. v of Sir R. F.\nBurton's complete translations.\n\n\nSOLOMON AND THE SERPENT'S PREY.\n\nA curious popular tradition of Solomon, in French verse, is given by M.\nEmile Blemont in _La Tradition_ (an excellent journal of folklore, etc.,\npublished at Paris) for March 1889, p. 73: Solomon, we are informed, in\nvery ancient times ruled over all beings [on the earth], and, if we may\nbelieve our ancestors, was the King of magicians. One day Man appeared\nbefore him, praying to be delivered from the Serpent, who ever lay in\nwait to devour him. \"That I cannot do,\" said Solomon; \"for he is my\npreceptor, and I have given him the privilege to eat whatsoever he likes\nbest.\" Man responded: \"Is that so? Well, let him gorge himself without\nstint; but he has no right to devour me.\" \"So you say,\" quoth Solomon;\n\"but are you sure of it?\" Said Man: \"I call the light to witness it; for\nI have the high honour of being in this world superior to all other\ncreatures.\" At these words the whole of the assembly [of animals]\nprotested. \"And I!\" said the Eagle, with a loud voice, as he alighted on\na rock. \"Corcorico!\" chanted the Cock. The Monkey was scratching himself\nand admiring his grinning phiz in the water, which served him for a\nlooking-glass. Then the Buzzard was beside himself [with rage]. And the\nCuckoo was wailing. The Ass rolled over and over, crying: \"Heehaw! how\nugly Man is!\" The Elephant stamped about with his heavy feet, his\ntrumpet raised towards the heavens. The Bear assumed dignified airs,\nwhile the Peacock was showing off his wheel-like tail. And in the\ndistance the Lion was majestically exhaling his disdain in a long sigh.\n\nThen said Solomon: \"Silence! Man is right: is he not the only beast who\ngets drunk at all seasons? But, to accede to his request, as an honest\nprince, I ought to be able to give the Serpent something preferable, or\nat least equal, to his favourite prey. Therefore hear my decision: Let\nthe Gnat--the smallest of animals--find out in what creature circulates\nthe most exquisite blood in the world; and that creature shall belong to\nyou, O Serpent. And I summon you all to appear here, without fail, on\nthis day twelvemonths hence, that the Gnat may tell us the result of his\nexperiments.\"\n\nThe year past, the Gnat--subtle taster--was slowly winging his way back\nwhen he met the Swallow. \"Good day, friend Swallow,\" says he. \"Good day,\nfriend Gnat,\" replies the Swallow. \"Have you accomplished your mission?\"\n\"Yes, my dear,\" responded the Gnat. \"Well, what is then the most\ndelicious blood under the heavens?\" \"My dear, it is that of Man.\"\n\"What!--of him? I haven't heard. Speak louder.\" The Gnat was beginning\nto raise his voice, and opened his mouth to speak louder, when the\nSwallow quickly fell upon him and nipped off his tongue in the middle of\na word. Spite of this, the Gnat continued his way, and arrived next day\nat the general assembly, where Solomon was already seated. But when the\nking questioned him, he had no means of proving his zeal. Said the king:\n\"Give us thy report.\" \"Bizz! bizz! bizz!\" said the poor fellow. \"Speak\nout, and let thy talk be clear,\" quoth the king. \"Bizz! bizz! bizz!\"\ncried the other again. \"What's the matter with the little stupid?\"\nexclaimed the king, in a rage. Here the Swallow intervened in a sweet\nand shrill tone: \"Sire, it is not his fault. Yesterday we were flying\nside by side, when suddenly he became mute. But, by good luck, down\nthere about the sacred springs, before he met with this misfortune, he\ntold me the result of his investigations. May I depone in his name?\"\n\"Certainly,\" replied Solomon. \"What is the best blood, according to thy\ncompanion?\" \"Sire, it is the blood of the Frog.\"\n\nEverybody was astonished: the Gnat was mad with rage. \"I hold,\" said\nSolomon, \"to all that I promised. Friend Serpent, renounce Man\nhenceforth--that food is bad. The Frog is the best meat; so eat as much\nFrog as you please.\" So the Serpent had to submit to his deplorable lot,\nand I leave you to think how the bile was stirred up within the rascally\nreptile. As the Swallow was passing him--mocking and sneering--the\nSerpent darted at her, but the bird swiftly passed beyond reach, and\nwith little effort cleft the vast blue sky and ascended more than a\nleague. The Serpent snapped only the end of the bird's tail, and that is\nhow the Swallow's tail is cloven to this day; but, so far from finding\nit an inconvenience, she is thereby the more lively and beautiful. And\nMan, knowing what he owes to her, is full of gratitude. She has her\nabode under the eaves of our houses, and good luck comes wherever she\nnestles. Her gay cries, sweet and shrill, rouse the springtide. Is she\nnot a bird-fairy--a good angel? On the other hand, the crafty Serpent\nhardly knows how to get out of the mud, and drags himself along,\nclimbing and climbing; while the Swallow, free and light, flies in the\ngold of the day. For she is faithful Friendship--the little sister of\nLove.\n\nM. Blemont does not say in what part of France this legend is current,\nbut it is doubtless of Asiatic extraction--whether Jewish or Muhammedan.\n\n\nTHE CAPON-CARVER, p. 231.\n\nA variant of the same incident occurs in No. IV of M. Emile Legrand's\n_Receuil de Contes Populaires Grecs_ (Paris, 1881), where a prince sets\nout in quest of some maiden acquainted with \"figurative language,\" whom\nhe would marry. He comes upon an old man and his daughter, and overhears\nthe latter address her father in metaphorical terms, which she has to\nexplain to the old man, at which the prince is highly pleased, and\nfollowing them to their hut desires and obtains shelter for the night.\n\"As there was not much to eat, the old man bade them kill a cock, and\nwhen it was roasted it was placed on the table. Then the young girl got\nup and carved the fowl. She gave the head to her father; the body to her\nmother; the wings to the prince; and the flesh to the children. The old\nman, seeing his daughter divide the fowl in this manner, turned and\nlooked at his wife, for he was ashamed to speak of it before the\nstranger. But when they were going to bed he said to his daughter: 'Why,\nmy child, did you cut up the fowl so badly? The stranger has gone\nstarving to bed.' 'Ah, my father,' she replied, 'you have not understood\nit; wait till I explain: I gave the head to you, because you are the\nhead of this house; to my mother I gave the body, because, like the body\nof a ship, she has borne us in her sides; I gave the wings to the\nstranger, because to-morrow he will take his flight and go away; and\nlastly, to us the children I gave the bits of flesh, because we are the\ntrue flesh of the house. Do you understand it now, my good\nfather?'\"--The remainder of the story is so droll that, though but\nremotely related to the Capon-carver, I think it worth while to give a\ntranslation of it:\n\n\"As the room wherein the girl spoke with her father was adjacent to that\nin which the stranger lay, the latter heard all that she said. Great was\nhis joy, and he said to himself that he would well like for wife one who\ncould thus speak figurative language. And when it was day he rose, took\nhis leave, and went away. On his return to the palace he called a\nservant and gave him in a sack containing 31 loaves, a whole cheese, a\ncock stuffed and roasted, and a skin of wine; and indicating to him the\nposition of the cabin where he had put up, told him to go there and\ndeliver these presents to a young girl of 18 years.\n\n\"The servant took the sack and set out to execute the orders of his\nmaster.--But, pardon me, ladies [quoth the story-teller], if I have\nforgotten to tell you this: Before setting out, the servant was ordered\nby the prince to say these words to the young girl: 'Many, many\ncompliments from my master. Here is what he sends you: the month has 31\ndays; the moon is full; the chorister of the dawn is stuffed and\nroasted; the he-goat's skin is stretched and full.'--The servant then\nwent towards the cabin, but on the way he met some friends. 'Good day,\nMichael. Where are you going with this load, and what do you carry?'\n'I'm going over the mountain to a cabin where my master sends me.' 'And\nwhat have you got in there? The smell of it makes our mouths water.'\n'Look, here are loaves, cheese, wine, and a roasted cock. It's a present\nwhich my master has given me to take to a poor girl.' 'O indeed,\nsimpleton! Sit down, that we may eat a little. How should thy master\never know of it?' Down they sat on the green mountain sward and fell-to.\nThe more they ate the keener their appetites grew, so that our fine\nfellows cleared away 13 loaves, half the cheese, the whole cock, and\nnearly half the wine. When they had eaten and drank their fill, the\nservant took up the remainder and resumed his way to the cabin. Arrived,\nhe found the young girl, gave her the presents, and repeated the words\nwhich his master had ordered him to say.\n\n\"The girl took what he brought and said to him: 'You shall say to your\nmaster: \"Many, many compliments. I thank him for all that he has sent\nme; but the month has only 18 days, the moon is only half full, the\nchorister of dawn was not there, and the he-goat's skin is lank and\nloose. But, to please the partridge, let him not beat the sow.\"' (That\nis to say, there were only 18 loaves, half a cheese, no roasted cock,\nand the wine-skin was scarcely half full; but that, to please the young\ngirl, he was not to beat the servant, who had not brought the gift\nentire.)\n\n\"The servant left and returned to the palace. He repeated to the prince\nwhat the young girl had said to him, except the last clause, which he\nforgot. Then the prince understood all, and caused another servant to\ngive the rogue a good beating. When the culprit had received such a\ncaning that his skin and bones were sore, he cried out: 'Enough, prince,\nmy master! Wait until I tell you another thing that the young girl said\nto me, and I have forgotten to tell you.' 'Come, what have you to\nsay?--be quick.' 'Master, the young girl added, \"But, to please the\npartridge, let him not beat the sow.\"' 'Ah, blockhead!' said the prince\nto him. 'Why did you not tell me this before? Then you would not have\ntasted the cane. But so be it.' A few days later the prince married the\nyoung girl, and fetes and great rejoicings were held.\"\n\n\nTHE FOX AND THE BEAR, p. 240.\n\nIn no other version of this fable does the Fox take a stone with him\nwhen he enters one of the buckets and then throw it away--nor indeed\ndoes he go into the bucket at all; he simply induces the other animal to\ndescend into the well, in order to procure the \"fine cheese.\" La\nFontaine gives a variant of the fable, in which a fox goes down into a\nwell with the same purpose, and gets out by asking a wolf to come down\nand feast on the \"cheese\": as the wolf descends in one bucket he draws\nup the fox in the other one, and so the wolf, like Lord Ullin, is \"left\nlamenting.\"[114] M. Berenger-Feraud thinks this version somewhat\nanalogous to a fable in his French collection of popular Senegambian\nTales,[115] of the Clever Monkey and the Silly Wolf, of which, as it is\nshort, I may offer a free translation, as follows:\n\nA proud lion was pacing about a few steps forward, then a side movement,\nthen a grand stride backward. A monkey on a tree above imitates the\nmovements, and his antics enrage the lion, who warns him to desist. The\nmonkey however goes on with the caricature, and at last falls off the\ntree, and is caught by the lion, who puts him into a hole in the ground,\nand having covered it with a large stone goes off to seek his mate, that\nthey should eat the monkey together. While he is absent a wolf comes to\nthe spot, and is pleased to hear the monkey cry, for he had a grudge\nagainst him. The wolf asks why the monkey cries. \"I am singing,\" says\nthe monkey, \"to aid my digestion. This is a hare's retreat, and we two\nate so heartily this morning that I cannot move, and the hare is gone\nout for some medicine. We have lots of more food.\" \"Let me in,\" says the\nwolf; \"I am a friend.\" The monkey, of course, readily consents, and just\nas the wolf enters he slips out, and, replacing the stone, imprisons the\nwolf. By-and-by the lion and his mate come up. \"We shall have monkey\nto-day,\" says the lion, lifting the stone--\"faith! we shall only have\nwolf after all!\" So the poor wolf is instantly torn into pieces, while\nthe clever monkey once more overhead re-enacts his lion-pantomime.[116]\n\n  [114] _Fables de La Fontaine_, Livre xi^e, fable v^e: \"Le Loup\n        et le Renard.\"\n\n  [115] _Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Senegambie_,\n        recueillis par L.-J.-B.-Berenger-Feraud. Paris, 1885.\n        Page 51.\n\n  [116] I have to thank my friend Dr. David Ross, Principal,\n        E. C. Training College, Glasgow, for kindly drawing my\n        attention to this diverting tale.\n\nStrange as it may appear, there is a variant of the fable of the Fox and\nthe Bear current among the negroes in the United States, according to\n_Uncle Remus_, that most diverting collection. In No. XVI, \"Brer Rabbit\"\ngoes down in a bucket into a well, and \"Brer Fox\" asks him what he is\ndoing there. \"O I'm des a fishing, Brer Fox,\" says he; and Brer Fox goes\ninto the bucket while Brer Rabbit escapes and chaffs his comrade.\n\n\nTHE DESOLATE ISLAND, p. 243.\n\nThere is a tale in the _Gesta Romanorum_ (ch. 74 of the text translated\nby Swan) which seems to have been suggested by the Hebrew parable of the\nDesolate Island, and which has passed into general currency throughout\nEurope: A dying king bequeaths to his son a golden apple, which he is to\ngive to the greatest fool he can find. The young prince sets out on his\ntravels, and after meeting with many fools, none of whom, however, he\ndeemed worthy of the \"prize,\" he comes to a country the king of which\nreigns only one year, and finds him indulging in all kinds of pleasure.\nHe offers the king the apple, explaining the terms of his father's\nbequest, and saying that he considers him the greatest of all fools, in\nnot having made a proper use of his year of sovereignty.--A common oral\nform of this story is to the effect that a court jester came to the\nbedside of his dying master, who told him that he was going on a very\nlong journey, and the jester inquiring whether he had made due\npreparation was answered in the negative. \"Then,\" said the fool,\n\"prithee take my bauble, for thou art truly the greatest of all fools.\"\n\n\nOTHER RABBINICAL LEGENDS AND TALES.\n\nAs analogues, or variants, of incidents in several wide-spread European\npopular tales, other Hebrew legends are cited in some of my former\nbooks; e.g.: The True Son, in _Popular Tales and Fictions_, vol. i, p.\n14; Moses and the Angel (the ways of Providence: the original of\nParnell's \"Hermit\"), vol. i, p. 25; a mystical hymn, \"A kid, a kid, my\nFather bought,\" the possible original of our nursery cumulative rhyme of\n\"The House that Jack built,\" vol. i, p. 291; the Reward of Sabbath\nobservance, vol. i, p. 399; the Intended Divorce, vol. ii, p. 328, of\nwhich, besides the European variants there cited, other versions will be\nfound in Prof. Crane's _Italian Popular Tales_: \"The Clever Girl\" and\nNotes; the Lost Camel, in _A Group of Eastern Romances and Stories_, p.\n512. In _Originals and Analogues of some of Chaucer's 'Canterbury\nTales'_ (for the Chaucer Society) I have cited two curious Jewish\nversions of the Franklin's Tale, in the paper entitled \"The Damsel's\nRash Promise,\" pp. 315, 317. A selection of Hebrew Facetiae is given at\nthe end of the papers on Oriental Wit and Humour in the present volume\n(p. 117); and an amusing story, also from the Talmud, is reproduced in\nmy _Book of Sindibad_, p. 103, _note_, of the Athenian and the witty\nTailor; and in the same work, p. 340, _note_, reference is made to a\nJewish version of the famous tale of the Matron of Ephesus. There may be\nmore in these books which I cannot call to mind.\n\n\n\n\nAN ARABIAN TALE OF LOVE.\n\n  Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,\n  Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend\n  More than cool reason ever comprehends.\n                     _Midsummer Night's Dream_.\n\n\nEvery land has its favourite tale of love: in France, that of Abelard\nand Eloisa, in Italy, of Petrarch and Laura; all Europe has the touching\ntale of Romeo and Juliet in common; and Muslims have the ever fresh tale\nof the loves and sorrows of Majnun and Layla. Of the ten or twelve\nPersian poems extant on this old tale those by Nizami, who died A.D.\n1211, and Jami, of the 15th century, are considered as by far the best;\nthough Hatifi's version (ob. 1520) is highly praised by Sir William\nJones. The Turkish poet Fazuli (ob. 1562) also made this tale the basis\nof a fine mystical poem, of which Mr. Gibb has given some translated\nspecimens--reproducing the original rhythm and rhyme-movement very\ncleverly--in his _Ottoman Poems_. The following is an epitome of the\ntale of Majnun and Layla:\n\nKays (properly, Qays), the handsome son of Syd Omri, an Arab chief of\nYemen, becomes enamoured of a beauteous maiden of another tribe: a\ndamsel bright as the moon,[117] graceful as the cypress;[118] with locks\ndark as night, and hence she was called Layla;[119] who captivated all\nhearts, but chiefly that of Kays. His passion is reciprocated, but soon\nthe fond lovers are separated. The family of Layla remove to the distant\nmountains of Nejd, and Kays, distracted, with matted locks and bosom\nbare to the scorching sun, wanders forth into the desert in quest of her\nabode, causing the rocks to echo his voice, constantly calling upon her\nname. His friends, having found him in woeful plight, bring him home,\nand henceforth he is called Majnun--that is, one who is mad, or frantic,\nfrom love. Syd Omri, his father, finding that Majnun is deaf to good\ncounsel--that nothing but the possession of Layla can restore him to his\nsenses--assembles his followers and departs for the abode of Layla's\nfamily, and presenting himself before the maiden's father, proposes in\nhaughty terms the union of his son with Layla; but the offer is\ndeclined, on the ground that Syd Omri's son is a maniac, and he will not\ngive his daughter to a man bereft of his senses; but should he be\nrestored to his right mind he will consent to their union. Indignant at\nthis answer, Syd Omri returns home, and after his friends had in vain\ntried the effect of love-philtres to make Layla's father relent, as a\nlast resource they propose that Majnun should wed another damsel, upon\nwhich the demented lover once more seeks the desert, where they again\nfind him almost at the point of death, and bring him back to his tribe.\n\n  [117] Nothing is more hackneyed in Asiatic poetry than the\n        comparison of a pretty girl's face to the moon, and not\n        seldom to the disparagement of that luminary. Solomon,\n        in his love-songs, exclaims: \"Who is she that looketh\n        forth in the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the\n        sun?\" The greatest of Persian poets, Firdausi, says of a\n        damsel:\n\n          \"Love ye the moon? Behold her face,\n          And there the lucid planet trace.\"\n\n        And Kalidasa, the Shakspeare of India (6th century\n        B.C.), says:\n\n          \"Her countenance is brighter than the moon.\"\n\n        Amongst ourselves the epithet \"moon-faced\" is not usually\n        regarded as complimentary, yet Spenser speaks of a\n        beautiful damsel's \"moon-like forehead.\"--Be sure, the\n        poets are right!\n\n  [118] The lithe figure of a pretty girl is often likened by\n        Eastern poets to the waving cypress, a tree which we\n        associate with the grave-yard.--\"Who is walking there?\"\n        asks a Persian poet. \"Thou, or a tall cypress?\"\n\n  [119] \"Nocturnal.\"\n\nNow the season of pilgrimage to Mecca draws nigh, and it is thought that\na visit to the holy shrine and the waters of the Zemzem[120] might cure\nhis frenzy. Accordingly Majnun, weak and helpless, is conveyed to Mecca\nin a litter. Most fervently his sorrowing father prays in the Kaaba for\nhis recovery, but all in vain, and they return home. Again Majnun\nescapes to the desert, whence his love-plaints, expressed in eloquent\nverse, find their way to Layla, who contrives to reply to them, also in\nverse, assuring her lover of her own despair, and of her constancy.\n\n  [120] The sacred well in the Kaaba at Mecca, which, according\n        to Muslim legends, miraculously sprang up when Hagar and\n        her son Ishmael were perishing in the desert from thirst.\n\nOne day a gallant young chief, Ibn Salam, chances to pass near the\ndwelling of Layla, and, seeing the beauteous maiden among her\ncompanions, falls in love with her, and straightway asks her in marriage\nof her parents. Layla's father does not reject the handsome and wealthy\nsuitor, who scatters his gold about as if it were mere sand, but desires\nhim to wait until his daughter is of proper age for wedlock, when the\nnuptials should be duly celebrated; and with this promise Ibn Salam\ndeparts.\n\nMeanwhile, Noufal, the chief in whose land Majnun has taken up his\nabode, while hunting one day comes upon the wretched lover, and, struck\nwith his appearance, inquires the cause of his distress. Noufal\nconceives a warm friendship for Majnun, and sends a messenger to Layla's\nfather to demand her in marriage with his friend. But the damsel's\nparent scornfully refused to comply, and Noufal then marches with his\nfollowers against him. A battle ensues, in which Noufal is victorious.\nThe father of Layla then comes to Noufal, and offers submission; but he\ndeclares that rather than consent to his daughter's union with Majnun he\nwould put her to death before his face. Seeing the old man thus\nresolute, Noufal abandons his enterprise and returns to his own country.\n\nAnd now Ibn Salam, having waited the appointed time, comes with his\ntribesmen to claim the hand of Layla; and, spite of her tears and\nprotestations, she is married to the wealthy young chief. Years pass\non--weary years of wedded life to poor Layla, whose heart is ever true\nto her wandering lover. At length a stranger seeks out Majnun, and tells\nhim that his beloved Layla wishes to have a brief interview with him,\nnear her dwelling. At once the frantic lover speeds towards the\nrendezvous; but when Layla is informed of his arrival, her sense of duty\novercomes the passion of her life, and she resolves to forego the\ndangerous meeting, and poor Majnun departs without having seen his\ndarling. Henceforth he is a constant dweller in the desert, having for\nhis companions the beasts and birds of the wilderness--his clothes in\ntatters, his hair matted, his body wasted to a shadow, his bare feet\nlacerated with thorns. After the lapse of many more years the husband of\nLayla dies, and the beautiful widow passes the prescribed period of\nseparation (_'idda_),[121] after which Majnun hastens to embrace his\nbeloved. Overpowered by the violence of their emotions, both are for a\nspace silent; at length Layla addresses Majnun in tender accents; but\nwhen he finds voice to reply it is evident that the reaction has\ncompletely extinguished the last spark of reason: Majnun is now a\nhopeless maniac, and he rushes from the arms of Layla and seeks the\ndesert once more. Layla never recovered from the shock occasioned by\nthis discovery. She pined away, and with her last breath desired her\nmother to convey the tidings of her death to Majnun, and to assure him\nof her constant, unquenchable affection. When Majnun hears of her death\nhe visits her tomb, and, exhausted with his journey and many privations,\nhe lays himself down on the turf that covered her remains, and dies--the\nvictim of pure, ever-during love.\n\n  [121] According to Muslim law, four months and ten days must\n        elapse before a widow can marry again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPossibly, readers of a sentimental turn--oft inclined to the \"melting\"\nmood--may experience a kind of pleasing sadness in perusing a rhythmical\nprose translation of the passage in Nizami's poem in which\n\n\n_Majnun bewails the Death of Layla._\n\nWhen Zayd,[122] with heart afflicted, heard that in the silent tomb that\nmoon[123] had set, he wept and mourned, and sadly flowed his tears. Who\nin this world is free from grief and tears? Then, clothed in sable\ngarments, like one oppressed who seeks redress, he, agitated, and\nweeping like a vernal cloud, hastened to the grave of Layla; but, as he\no'er it hung, ask not how swelled his soul with grief; while from his\neyes the tears of blood incessant flowed, and from his sight and groans\nthe people fled. Sometimes he mourned with grief so deep and sad that\nfrom his woe the sky became obscure. Then from the tomb of that fair\nflower he to the desert took his way. There sought the wanderer from the\npaths of man him whose night was now in darkness veiled, as that bright\nlamp was gone; and, seated near him, weeping and sighing, he beat his\nbreast and struck upon the earth his head. When Majnun saw him thus\nafflicted he said: \"What has befallen thee, my brother, that thy soul is\nthus overpowered? and why so pale that cheek? and why these sable\nrobes?\" He thus replied: \"Because that fortune now has changed: a sable\nstream has issued from the earth, and even death has burst its iron\ngates; a storm of hail has on the garden poured, and not a leaf of all\nour rose-bower now remains. The moon has fallen from the firmament, and\nprostrate on the mead that waving cypress lies! Layla was, but from the\nworld has now departed; and from the wound thy love had caused she\ndied.\"\n\n  [122] An attendant, who had always befriended Majnun.\n\n  [123] \"The moon,\" to wit, the unhappy Layla. See the note,\n        p. 284.\n\nScarce had these accents reached his listening ear e'er, senseless,\nMajnun fell as one by lightning struck. A short time, fainting, thus he\nlay; recovered, then he raised his head to heaven and thus exclaimed: \"O\nmerciless! what fate severe is this on one so helpless? Why such wrath?\nWhy blast a blade of grass with lightning, and on the ant [i.e. himself]\nthy power exert? One ant and a thousand pains of hell, when one single\nspark would be enough! Why thus with blood the goblet crown, and all my\nhopes deceive? I burned with flames that by that lamp were fed; and by\nthat breath which quenched its light I too expire.\" Thus, like Asra, did\nhe complain, and, like Wamik, traversed on every side the desert,[124]\nhis heart broken, and his garments rent; while, as the beasts gazed on\nhim, his tears so constant flowed, that in their eyes the tear-drop\nstood; and like a shadow Zayd his footsteps still pursued. When, weeping\nand mourning, Majnun thus o'er many a hill and many a vale had passed,\nas grief his path directed, he wished to view the tomb of all he loved;\nand then inquired of Zayd where was the spot that held her grave, and\nwhere the turf that o'er it grew.\n\n  [124] See Note on 'Wamik and Asra' at the end of this paper.\n\nBut soon as to the tomb he came, struck with its view, his senses fled.\nRecovering, then he thus exclaimed: \"O Heaven! what shall I do, or what\nresource attempt, as like a lamp I waste away? Alas! that heart-enslaver\nwas all that in this world I prized: and now, alas! in wrath, dire Fate\nwith ruthless blow has snatched her from me. In my hand I held a lovely\nflower; the wind came and scattered all its leaves. I chose a cypress\nthat in the garden graceful grew; but soon the wind of fate destroyed\nit. Spring bade a blossom bloom; but Fortune would not guard the flower.\nA group of lilies I preserved, pure as the thoughts that in my bosom\nrose; but one unjust purloined them. I sowed, but he the harvest\nreaped.\"\n\nThen, resting within the tomb his head, he mourning wept, and said: \"O\nlovely floweret, struck by autumn's blast, and from this world departed\nere thou knewest it! A garden once in bloom, but now laid waste! O fruit\nmatured, but not enjoyed! To earth's mortality can such as thou be\nsubject, and such as thou within the darkness of the tomb repose? And\nwhere is now that mole which seemed a grain of musk?[125] And where\nthose eyes soft as the gazelle's? Where those ruby lips? And where those\ncurling ringlets? In what bright hues is now thy form adorned? And\nthrough the love of whom does now thy lamp consume? To whose fond eyes\nare now thy charms displayed? And whom to captivate do now thy tresses\nwave? Beside the margin of what stream is now that cypress seen? And in\nwhat bower is now the banquet spread? Ah, can such as thou have felt the\npangs of death, and be reclined within this narrow cave?[126] But o'er\nthy cell I mourn, as thou wast all I loved; and ere my grief shall\ncease, the grave shall be my friend. Thou wast agitated like the sand of\nthe desert; but now thou reposest as the water of the lake. Thou, like\nthe moon, hast disappeared; but, though unseen, the moon is still the\nsame; and now, although thy form from me is hid, still in my breast\nremains the loved remembrance. Though far removed beyond my aching\nsight, still is thy image in my heart beheld. Thy form is now departed,\nbut grief eternal fills its place. On thee my soul was fixed, and never\nwill thy memory be forgot. Thou art gone, and from this wilderness\nescaped, and now reposest in the bowers of Paradise. I, too, after some\nlittle time will shake off these bonds, and there rejoin thee. Till\nthen, faithful to the love I vowed, around thy tomb my footsteps will I\nbend. Until I come to thee within this narrow cell, pure be thy shroud!\nMay Paradise everlasting be thy mansion blest! And be thy soul received\ninto the mercy of thy God! And may thy spirit by his grace be vivified\nto all eternity!\"\n\n  [125] A mole on the fair face of Beauty is not regarded as a\n        blemish, but the very contrary, by Asiatics--or by\n        Europeans either, else why did the ladies of the last\n        century patch their faces, if not (originally) to set\n        off the clearness of their complexion by contrast with\n        the little black wafer?--though (afterwards) often to\n        hide a pimple! Eastern poets are for ever raving over\n        the mole on a pretty face. Hafiz goes the length of\n        declaring:\n\n          \"For the mole on the cheek of that girl of Shiraz\n          I would give away Samarkand and Bukhara\"--\n\n        albeit they were none of his to give to anybody.\n\n  [126] Cf. Shelley, in the fine opening of that wonderful\n        poetical offspring of his adolescence, _Queen Mab_:\n\n            \"Hath, then, the gloomy Power\n          Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres\n            Seized on her sinless soul?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"This,\" methinks I hear some misogynist exclaim, after reading it--\"this\nis rank nonsense--it is stark lunacy!\" And so it is, perhaps. At all\nevents, these impassioned words are supposed to be uttered by a poor\nyouth who had gone mad from love. Our misogynist--and may I venture to\ninclude the experienced married man?--will probably retort, that all\nlove between young folks is not only folly but sheer madness; and he\nwill be the more confirmed in this opinion when he learns that,\naccording to certain grave Persian writers, Layla was really of a\nswarthy visage, and far from being the beauty her infatuated lover\nconceived her to be: thus verifying the dictum of our great dramatist,\nin the ever-fresh passage where he makes \"the lunatic, the lover, and\nthe poet\" to be \"of imagination all compact,\" the lover seeing \"Helen's\nbeauty in the brow of Egypt!\"--Notwithstanding all this, the ancient\nlegend of Layla and Majnun has proved an inspiring theme to more than\none great poet of Persia, during the most flourishing period of the\nliterature of that country--for which let us all be duly thankful.\n\n\n\n\n_ADDITIONAL NOTES._\n\n\n'WAMIK AND ASRA,' p. 289.\n\nThis is the title of an ancient Persian poem, composed in the reign of\nNushirvan, A.D. 531-579, of which some fragments only now remain,\nincorporated with an Arabian poem. In 1833, Von Hammer published a\nGerman translation, at Vienna: _Wamik und Asra; das ist, Gluehende und\ndie Bluehende. Das aelteste Persische romantische Gedicht. Jun fuenftelsaft\nabgezogen_, von Joseph von Hammer (Wamik and Asra; that is, the Glowing\nand the Blowing. The most ancient Persian Romantic Poem. Transfer the\nFifth, etc.) The hero and heroine, namely, Wamik and Asra, are\npersonifications of the two great principles of heat and vegetation, the\nvivifying energy of heaven and the correspondent productiveness of\nearth.--This noble poem is the subject of a very interesting article in\nthe _Foreign Quarterly Review_, vol. xviii, 1836-7, giving some of the\nmore striking passages in English verse, of which the following may\nserve as a specimen:\n\n  'The Blowing One' Asra was justly named,\n      For she, in mind and form, a blossom stood;\n  Of beauty, youth, and grace divinely framed,\n      Of holiest spirit, filled with heavenly good.\n  The Spring, when warm, in fullest splendour showing,\n      Breathing gay wishes to the inmost core\n  Of youthful hearts, and fondest influence throwing,\n      Yet veiled its bloom, her beauty's bloom before;\n      For her the devotee his very creed forswore.\n  Her hair was bright as hyacinthine dyes;\n    Her cheek was blushing, sheen as Eden's rose;\n  The soft narcissus tinged her sleeping eyes,\n    And white her forehead, as the lotus shows\n  _'Gainst Summer's earliest sunbeams shimmering fair._\n\nA curious story is related by Dawlat Shah regarding this poem, which\nbears a close resemblance to the story of the destruction of the\nAlexandrian Library, by order of the fanatical khalif 'Umar: One day\nwhen Amir Abdullah Tahir, governor of Khurasan under the Abbasside\nkhalifs, was giving audience, a person laid before him a book, as a rare\nand valuable present. He asked: \"What book is this?\" The man replied:\n\"It is the story of Wamik and Asra.\" The Amir observed: \"We are the\nreaders of the Kuran, and we read nothing except that sacred volume, and\nthe traditions of the Prophet, and such accounts as relate to him, and\nwe have therefore no use for books of this kind. They are besides\ncompositions of infidels, and the productions of worshippers of fire,\nand are therefore to be rejected and contemned by us.\" He then ordered\nthe book to be thrown into the water, and issued his command that\nwhatever books could be found in the kingdom which were the composition\nof the Persian infidels should be immediately burnt.\n\n\nANOTHER FAMOUS ARABIAN LOVER.\n\nScarcely less celebrated than the story of Majnun and Layla--among the\nArabs, at least--is that of the poet Jamil and the beauteous damsel\nButhayna. It is said that Jamil fell in love with her while he was yet a\nboy, and on attaining manhood asked her in marriage, but her father\nrefused. He then composed verses in her honour and visited her secretly\nat Wadi-'l Kura, a delightful valley near Medina, much celebrated by the\npoets. Jamil afterwards went to Egypt, with the intention of reciting to\nAbdu-'l Aziz Ibn Marwan a poem he had composed in his honour. This\ngovernor admitted Jamil into his presence, and, after hearing his\neulogistic verses and rewarding him generously, he asked him concerning\nhis love for Buthayna, and was told of his ardent and painful passion.\nOn this Abdu-'l Aziz promised to unite Jamil to her, and bade him stay\nat Misr (Cairo), where he assigned him a habitation and furnished him\nwith all he required. But Jamil died there shortly after, A.H. 82 (A.D.\n701).\n\nThe following narrative is given in the _Kitabal-Aghani_, on the\nauthority of the famous poet and philologist Al-Asma'i, who flourished\nin the 8th century:\n\nA person who was present at the death of Jamil in Egypt relates that the\npoet called him and said: \"If I give you all I leave after me, will you\nperform one thing which I shall enjoin you?\" \"By Allah, yes,\" said the\nother. \"When I am dead,\" said Jamil, \"take this cloak of mine and put it\naside, but keep everything else for yourself. Then go to Buthayna's\ntribe, and when you are near them, saddle this camel of mine and mount\nher; then put on my cloak and rend it, and mounting on a hill, shout out\nthese verses: 'A messenger hath openly proclaimed the death of Jamil. He\nhath now a dwelling in Egypt from which he will never return. There was\na time when, intoxicated with love, he trained his mantle proudly in the\nfields and palm-groves of Wadi-'l Kura! Arise, Buthayna! and lament\naloud: weep for the best of all thy lovers!'\" The man did what Jamil\nordered, and had scarcely finished the verses when Buthayna came forth,\nbeautiful as the moon when it appears from behind a cloud. She was\nmuffled in a cloak, and on coming up to him said: \"Man, if what thou\nsayest be true, thou hast killed me; if false, thou hast dishonoured\nme!\" [i.e. by associating her name with that of a strange man, still\nalive.] He replied: \"By Allah! I only tell the truth,\" and he showed her\nJamil's mantle, on seeing which she uttered a loud cry and smote her\nface, and the women of the tribe gathered around, weeping with her and\nlamenting her lover's death. Her strength at length failed her, and she\nswooned away. After some time she revived, and said [in verse]: \"Never\nfor an instant shall I feel consolation for the loss of Jamil! That time\nshall never come. Since thou art dead, O Jamil, son of Mamar! the pains\nof life and its pleasures are alike to me.\" And quoth the lover's\nmessenger: \"I never saw man or woman weep more than I saw that\nday.\"--Abridged from Ibn Khallikan's great Biographical Dictionary as\ntranslated by Baron De Slane, vol. i, pp. 331-326.\n\n\n\n\nAPOCRYPHAL LIFE OF ESOP, THE FABULIST.\n\n\nThe origin of the Beast-Fable is still a vexed question among scholars,\nsome of whom ascribe it to the doctrine of metempsychosis, or the\ntransmigration of human souls into different animal forms; others,\nagain, are of the opinion that beasts and birds were first adopted as\ncharacters of fictitious narratives, in order to safely convey reproof\nor impart wholesome counsel to the minds of absolute princes, who would\nsignally resent \"plain speaking.\"[127] Several nations of\nantiquity--notably the Greeks, the Hindus, the Egyptians--have been\ncredited with the invention of the beast-fable, and there is no reason\nto believe that it may not have been independently devised in different\ncountries. It is very certain, however, that Esop was not the inventor\nof this kind of narrative in Greece, while those fables ascribed to him,\nwhich have been familiar to us from our nursery days, are mostly\nspurious, and have been traced to ancient Oriental sources. The\nso-called Esopic apologue of the Lion and the House is found in an\nEgyptian papyrus preserved at Leyden.[128] Many of them are quite modern\n_rechauffes_ of Hindu apologues, such as the Milkmaid and her Pot of\nMilk, which gave rise to our popular saying, \"Don't count your chickens\nuntil they be hatched.\" Nevertheless, genuine fables of Esop were\ncurrent in Athens at the best period of its literary history, though it\ndoes not appear that they existed in writing during his lifetime.\nAristophanes represents a character in one of his plays as learning\nEsop's fables from oral recitation. When first reduced to writing they\nwere in prose, and Socrates is said to have turned some of them into\nverse, his example being followed by Babrius, amongst others, of whose\nversion but few fables remain entire. The most celebrated of his Latin\ntranslators is Phaedrus, who takes care to inform us that\n\n  If any thoughts in these Iambics shine,\n  The invention's Esop's, and the verse is mine.[129]\n\n  [127] The reader may with advantage consult the article\n        'Beast-Fable,' by Mr. Thos. Davidson, in _Chambers's\n        Encylopaedia_, new edition.\n\n  [128] But this papyrus might be of as late a period as the\n        second century of our era.\n\n  [129] For the most complete history of the Esopic Fable, see\n        vol. i of Mr. Joseph Jacobs' edition of _The Fables of\n        Aesop, as first printed by Caxton in 1484, with those of\n        Avian, Alfonso, and Poggio_, recently published by Mr.\n        David Nutt; where a vast amount of erudite information\n        will be found on the subject in all its ramifications.\n        Mr. Jacobs, indeed, seems to have left little for future\n        gleaners: he has done his work in a thorough,\n        Benfey-like manner, and students of comparative\n        folk-lore are under great obligations to him for the\n        indefatigable industry he has devoted to the valuable\n        outcome of his wide-reaching learning.\n\nLittle is authentically known regarding the career of the renowned\nfabulist, who is supposed to have been born about B.C. 620, and, as in\nthe case of Homer, various places are assigned as that of his\nnativity--Samos, Sardis, Mesembria in Thrace, and Cotiaeium in Phrygia.\nHe is said to have been brought as a slave to Athens when very young,\nand after serving several masters was enfranchised by Iadmon, the\nSamian. His death is thus related by Plutarch: Having gone to Delphos,\nby the order of Croesus, with a large quantity of gold and silver, to\noffer a costly sacrifice to Apollo and to distribute a considerable sum\namong the inhabitants, a quarrel arose between him and the Delphians,\nwhich induced him to return the money, and inform the king that the\npeople were unworthy of the liberal benefaction he had intended for\nthem. The Delphians, incensed, charged him with sacrilege, and, having\nprocured his condemnation, precipitated him from a rock and caused his\ndeath.--The popular notion that Esop was a monster of ugliness and\ndeformity is derived from a \"Life\" of the fabulist, prefixed to a Greek\ncollection of fables purporting to be his, said to have been written by\nMaximus Planudes, a monk of the 14th century, which, however apocryphal,\nis both curious and entertaining, from whatever sources the anecdotes\nmay have been drawn.\n\nAccording to Planudes,[130] Esop was born at Amorium, in the Greater\nPhrygia, a slave, ugly exceedingly: he was sharp-chinned, snub-nosed,\nbull-necked, blubber-lipped, and extremely swarthy (whence his name,\n_Ais-opos_, or _Aith-opos_: burnt-face, blackamoor); pot-bellied,\ncrook-legged, and crook-backed; perhaps uglier even than the Thersites\nof Homer; worst of all, tongue-tied, obscure and inarticulate in his\nspeech; in short, everything but his mind seemed to mark him out for a\nslave. His first master sent him out to dig one day. A husbandman having\npresented the master with some fine fresh figs, they were given to a\nslave to be set before him after his bath. Esop had occasion to go into\nthe house; meanwhile the other slaves ate the figs, and when the master\nmissed them they accused Esop, who begged a moment's respite: he then\ndrank some warm water and caused himself to vomit, and as he had not\nbroken his fast his innocence was thus manifest. The same test\ndiscovered the thieves, who by their punishment illustrated the proverb:\n\n  Whoso against another worketh guile\n  Thereby himself doth injure unaware.[131]\n\n  [130] _Fabulae Romanenses Graece conscriptae ex recensione et\n        cum adnotationibus_, Alfredi Eberhard (Leipzig, 1872),\n        vol. i, p. 226 ff.\n\n  [131] It would have been well had the sultan Bayazid compelled\n        his soldier to adopt this plan when accused by an old\n        woman of having drunk up all her supply of goat's milk.\n        The soldier declared his innocence, upon which Bayazid\n        ordered his stomach to be cut open, and finding the milk\n        not yet digested, quoth he to the woman: \"Thou didst not\n        complain without reason.\" And, having caused her to be\n        recompensed for her loss, \"Now go thy way,\" he added,\n        \"for thou hast had justice for the wrong done thee.\"\n\nNext day the master goes to town. Esop works in the field, and\nentertains with his own food some travellers who had lost their way, and\nsets them on the right road again. They are really priests of Artemis,\nand having received their blessing he falls asleep, and dreams that\nTyche (i.e. Fortune) looses his tongue, and gives him eloquence. Waking,\nhe finds he can say _bous_, _onos_, _dikella_, (ox, ass, mattock). This\nis the reward of piety, for \"well-doing is full of good hopes.\" Zenas,\nthe overseer, is rebuked by Esop for beating a slave. This is the first\ntime he has been heard to speak distinctly. Zenas goes to his master and\naccuses Esop of having blasphemed him and the gods, and is given Esop to\nsell or give away as he pleases. He sells him to a trader for three\nobols (4-1/2d.), Esop pleading that, if useless for aught else, he will\ndo for a bugbear to keep his children quiet. When they arrive home the\nlittle ones begin to cry. \"Was I not right?\" quoth Esop, and the other\nslaves think he has been bought to avert the Evil Eye.\n\nThe merchant sets out for Asia with all his house-hold. Esop is offered\nthe lightest load, as being a raw recruit. From among the bags, beds,\nand baskets he chooses a basket full of bread--\"a load for two men.\"\nThey laugh at his folly, but let him have his will, and he staggers\nunder the burden to the wonder of his master. But at the first halt for\n_ariston_, or breakfast, the basket is half-emptied, and by the evening\nwholly so, and then Esop marches triumphantly ahead, all commending his\nwit. At Ephesus the merchant sells all his slaves, excepting a musician,\na scribe, and Esop. Thence he goes to Samos, where he puts new garments\non the two former (he had none left for Esop), and sets them out for\nsale, Esop between them. Xanthus, the philospher, lived at Samos. He\ngoes to the slave market, and, seeing the three, praises the dealer's\ncunning in making the two look handsomer than they were by contrast with\nthe ugly one. Asking the scribe and the musician what they know, their\nanswer is, \"Everything,\" upon which Esop laughs. The price of the\nmusician (1000 obols, or six guineas) and of the scribe (three times\nthat sum) prevents the philosopher from buying them, and he turns to\nEsop to see what he is made of. He gives him the customary salutation,\n\"Khaire!\" (Rejoice). \"I wasn't grieving,\" retorts Esop. \"I greet thee,\"\nsays Xanthus. \"And I thee,\" replies Esop. \"What are thou?\" \"Black.\" \"I\ndon't mean that, but in what sort of place wast thou born?\" \"My mother\ndidn't tell me whether in the second floor or the cellar.\" \"What can you\ndo?\" \"Nothing.\" \"How?\" \"Why, these fellows here say they know how to do\neverything, and they haven't left me a single thing.\" \"By Jove,\" cries\nXanthus, \"he has answered right well; for there is no man who knows\neverything. That was why he laughed, it is clear.\" In the end, Xanthus\nbuys Esop for sixty obols (about 7s. 6d.) and takes him home, where his\nwife (who is \"very cleanly\") receives him only on sufferance.\n\nOne day Xanthus, meeting friends at the bath, sends Esop home to boil\npease (idiomatically using the word in the singular), for his friends\nare coming to eat with him. Esop boils _one_ pea and sets it before\nXanthus, who tastes it and bids him serve up. The water is then placed\non the table, and Esop justifies himself to his distracted master, who\nthen sends him for four pig's feet. While they boil, Xanthus slyly\nabstracts one, and when Esop discovers this he takes it for a plot\nagainst him of the other slaves. He runs into the yard, cuts a foot from\nthe pig feeding there, and tosses it into the pot. Presently the other\nfoot is put back, and Esop is confounded to see _five_ trotters on the\nboil. He serves them up, however, and when Xanthus asks him what the\nfive mean he replies: \"How many feet have two pigs?\" Xanthus saying,\n\"Eight,\" quoth Esop: \"Then here are five, and the porker feeding below\ngoes on three.\" On being reproached he urges: \"But, master, there is no\nharm in doing a sum in addition and subtraction, is there?\" For very\nshame Xanthus forbears whipping him.\n\nOne morning Xanthus gives a breakfast, for which Esop is sent to buy\n\"the best and most useful.\" He buys tongues, and the guests\n(philosophers all) have nothing else. \"What could be better for man than\ntongue?\" quoth Esop. Another time he is ordered to get \"the worst and\nmost worthless\"; again he brings tongues, and again is ready with a\nsimilar defence.[132] A guest reviles him, and Esop retorts that he is\n\"malicious and a busybody.\" On hearing this Xanthus commands him to find\nsome one who is not a busybody. In the road Esop finds a simple soul and\nbrings him home to his master, who persuades his wife to bear with him\nin anything he should pretend to do to her; if the guest is a busybody\n(or one who meddles) Esop will get a beating. The plan fails; for the\ngood man continues eating and takes no notice of the wife-cuffing going\non, and when his host seems about to burn her, he only asks leave to\nbring his own wife to be also placed on the pile.\n\n  [132] This story is also found in the _Liber de Donis_ of\n        Etienne de Bourbon (No. 246), a Dominican monk of the\n        14th century; in the _Summa Praedicantium_ of John\n        Bromyard, and several other medieval monkish collections\n        of _exempla_, or stories designed for the use of\n        preachers: in these the explanation is that nothing can\n        be better and nothing worse than _tongue_.\n\nAt a symposium Xanthus takes too much wine, and in bravado wagers his\nhouse and all that it contains that he will drink up the waters of the\nsea. Out of this scrape Esop rescues him by suggesting that he should\ndemand that all the rivers be stopped from flowing into the sea, for he\ndid not undertake to drink them too, and the other party is\nsatisfied.[133]\n\n  [133] This occurs in the several Asiatic versions of the Book\n        of Sindibad (Story of the Sandalwood Merchant); in the\n        _Gesta Romanorum_; in the old English metrical _Tale of\n        Beryn_; in one of the Italian _Novelle_ of Sacchetti;\n        and in the exploits of Tyl Eulenspiegel, the German\n        Rogue.\n\nA party of scientific guests are coming to dinner one day, and Esop is\nset just within the door to keep out \"all but the wise.\" When there is a\nknock at the door Esop shouts: \"What does the dog shake?\" and all save\none go away in high dudgeon, thinking he means them; but this last\nanswers: \"His tail,\" and is admitted.\n\nAt a public festival an eagle carries off the municipal ring, and Esop\nobtains his freedom by order of the state for his interpretation of this\nomen--that some king purposes to annex Samos. This, it turns out, is\nCroesus, who sends to claim tribute. Hereupon Esop relates his first\nfable, that of the Wolf, the Dog, and the Sheep, and, going on an\nembassy to Croesus, that of the Grasshopper who was caught by the\nLocust-gatherer. He brings home \"peace with honour.\" After this Esop\ntravels over the world, showing his wisdom and wit. At Babylon he is\nmade much of by the king. He then visits Egypt and confounds the sages\nin his monarch's behalf. Once more he returns to Greece, and at Delphi\nis accused of stealing a sacred golden bowl and condemned to be hurled\nfrom a rock. He pleads the fables of the Matron of Ephesus,[134] the\nFrog and the Mouse, the Beetle and the Eagle, the Old Farmer and his\nAss-waggon, and others, but all is of no avail, and the villains break\nhis neck.\n\n  [134] Taken from Petronius Arbiter. The story is widely\n        spread. It is found in the _Seven Wise Masters_,\n        and--_mutatis mutandis_--is well known to the Chinese.\n        Planudes takes some liberties with his original,\n        substituting for the soldier guarding the suspended\n        corpse of a criminal, who \"comforts\" the sorrowing\n        widow, a herdsman with his beasts, which he loses in\n        prosecuting his amour.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch are some of the apocryphal sayings and doings of Esop the\nfabulist--the manner of his death being the only circumstance for which\nthere is any authority. The idea of his bodily deformity is utterly\nwithout foundation, and may have been adopted as a foil to his\nextraordinary shrewdness and wit, as exhibited in the anecdotes related\nof him by Planudes. That there was nothing uncouth in the person of Esop\nis evident from the fact that the Athenians erected a fine statue of\nhim, by the famed sculptor Lysippus.--The Latin collection of the fables\nascribed to Esop was first printed at Rome in 1473 and soon afterwards\ntranslated into most of the languages of Europe. About the year 1480 the\nGreek text was printed at Milan. From a French version Caxton printed\nthem in English at Westminster in 1484, with woodcuts: \"Here begynneth\nthe Book of the subtyl History and Fables of Esope. Translated out of\nFrenssche into Englissche, by William Caxton,\" etc. In this version\nPlanudes' description of Esop's personal appearance is reproduced:[135]\nHe was \"deformed and evil shapen, for he had a great head, large visage,\nlong jaws, sharp eyes, a short neck, curb backed, great belly, great\nlegs, and large feet; and yet that which was worse, he was dumb and\ncould not speak; but, notwithstanding all this, he had a great wit and\nwas greatly ingenious, subtle in cavillection and joyous in words\"--an\ninconsistency which is done away in a later edition by the statement\nthat afterwards he found his tongue.--It is curious to find the Scottish\npoet Robert Henryson (15th century), in one of the prologues to his\nmetrical versions of some of the Fables, draw a very different portrait\nof Esop.[136] He tells us that one day in the midst of June, \"that joly\nsweit seasoun,\" he went alone to a wood, where he was charmed with the\n\"noyis of birdis richt delitious,\" and \"sweit was the smell of flowris\nquhyte and reid,\" and, sheltering himself under a green hawthorn from\nthe heat of the sun, he fell asleep:\n\n  And, in my dreme, methocht come throw the schaw[137]\n  The fairest man that ever befoir I saw.\n\n  His gowne wes of ane claith als quhyte as milk,\n      His chymeris[138] wes of chambelote purpour broun;\n  His hude[139] of scarlet, bordourit[140] weill with silk,\n      On hekellit-wyis,[141] untill his girdill doun;\n      His bonat round, and of the auld fassoun,[142]\n  His beird was quhyte, his ene was greit and gray,\n  With lokker[143] hair, quilk ouer his schulderis lay.\n\n  Ane roll of paper in his hand he bair,\n    Ane swannis pen stikkand[144] under his eir,\n  Ane inkhorne, with ane prettie gilt pennair,[145]\n    Ane bag of silk, all at his belt can beir:\n    Thus was he gudelie graithit[146] in his geir.\n  Of stature large, and with ane feirfull[147] face;\n  Evin quhair I lay, he came ane sturdie pace.\n\n  [135] Mr. Jacobs was obliged to omit the Life of Esop in his\n        reprint of Caxton's text of the Fables, as it would have\n        unduly increased the bulk of his second volume. But\n        those interested in the genealogy of popular tales and\n        fables will be glad to have Mr. Jacobs' all but\n        exhaustive account of the so-called Esopic fables,\n        together with his excellent synopsis of parallels, in\n        preference to the monkish collection of spurious\n        anecdotes of the fabulist, of which the most noteworthy\n        are given in the present paper.\n\n  [136] Robert Henryson was a schoolmaster in Dunfermline in the\n        latter part of the 15th century. His _Moral Fables_,\n        edited by Dr. David Irving, were printed for the\n        Maitland Club in 1832, and his complete works (Poems and\n        Fables) were edited by Dr. David Laing, and published in\n        1865. His _Testament of Cresseid_, usually considered as\n        his best performance, is a continuation of Chaucer's\n        _Troilus and Cresseide_, which was derived from the\n        Latin of an unknown author named Lollius. Henryson was\n        the author of the first pastoral poem composed in the\n        English (or Scottish) language--that of _Robin and\n        Makyn_. \"To his power of poetical conception,\" Dr. Laing\n        justly remarks, \"he unites no inconsiderable skill in\n        versification: his lines, if divested of their uncouth\n        orthography, might be mistaken for those of a more\n        modern poet.\"\n\n  [137] _Schaw_, a wood, a covert.\n\n  [138] _Chymeris_, a short, light gown.\n\n  [139] _Hude_, hood.\n\n  [140] _Bordourit_, embroidered.\n\n  [141] _Hekellit-wise_, like the feathers in the neck of a cock.\n\n  [142] _Fassoun_, fashion.\n\n  [143] _Lokker_, (?) gray.\n\n  [144] _Stikkand_, sticking.\n\n  [145] _Pennair_, pen-case.\n\n  [146] _Graithit_, apparelled, arrayed.\n\n  [147] _Feirfull_, awe-inspiring, dignified.\n\nThe Arabian sage Lokinan is represented by tradition to have been a\nblack slave, and of hideous appearance, from which, and from the\nidentity of the apologues in the Arabian collection that bears his name\nas the author with the so-called Esopic fables, some writers have\nsupposed that Esop and Lokman are simply different names of one and the\nsame individual. But the fables ascribed to Lokman have been for the\nmost part (if not indeed entirely) derived from the Greek; and there is\nno authority whatever that Lokman composed any apologues. Various\ntraditions exist regarding Lokman's origin and history. It is said that\nhe was an Ethiopian, and was sold as a slave to the Israelites during\nthe reign of David. According to one version, he was a carpenter;\nanother describes him as having been originally a tailor; while a third\naccount states that he was a shepherd. If the Arabs may be credited, he\nwas nearly related to the patriarch Job. Among the anecdotes which are\nrecounted of his amiable disposition is the following: His master once\ngave him a bitter lemon to eat. Lokman ate it all, upon which his\nmaster, greatly astonished, asked him: \"How was it possible for you to\neat so unpalatable a fruit?\" Lokman replied: \"I have received so many\nfavours from you, that it is no wonder I should once in my life eat a\nbitter melon from your hand.\" Struck with this generous answer, the\nmaster, it is said, immediately gave him his freedom.--A man of eminence\namong the Jews, observing a great crowd around Lokman, eagerly listening\nto his discourse, asked him whether he was not the black slave who\nlately tended the sheep of such a person, to which Lokman replying in\nthe affirmative, \"How was it possible,\" continued his questioner, \"for\nthee to attain so exalted a degree of wisdom and piety?\" Lokman\nanswered: \"By always speaking the truth; keeping my word; and never\nintermeddling in affairs that did not concern me.\"--Being asked from\nwhom he had learned urbanity, he replied: \"From men of rude manners, for\nwhatever I saw in them that was disagreeable I avoided doing myself.\"\nAnd when asked from whom he had acquired his philosophy, he said: \"From\nthe blind, who never advance a step until they have tried the ground.\"\nLokman is also credited with this apothegm: \"Be a learned man, a\ndisciple of the learned, or an auditor of the learned; at least, be a\nlover of knowledge and desirous of improvement.\"--In Persian and Turkish\ntales Lokman sometimes figures as a highly skilled physician, and \"wise\nas Lokman\" is proverbial throughout the Muhammedan world.\n\n\n\n\n_ADDITIONAL NOTE._\n\n\nDRINKING THE SEA DRY, p. 306.\n\nThe same jest is also found in _Aino Folk-Tales_, translated by Prof.\nBasil Hall Chamberlain, and published in the _Folk-Lore Journal_, 1888,\nas follows:\n\nThere was the Chief of the Mouth of the River and the Chief of the Upper\nCurrent of the River. The former was very vain-glorious, and therefore\nwished to put the latter to shame or to kill him by engaging him in an\nattempt to perform something impossible. So he sent for him and said:\n\"The sea is a useful thing, in so far as it is the original home of the\nfish which come up the river. But it is very destructive in stormy\nweather, when it beats wildly upon the beach. Do you now drink it dry,\nso that there may be rivers and dry land only. If you cannot do so, then\nforfeit all your possessions.\" The other said, greatly to the\nvain-glorious man's surprise: \"I accept the challenge.\" So, on their\ngoing down to the beach, the Chief of the Upper Current of the River\ntook a cup and scooped up a little of the sea-water with it, drank a few\ndrops, and said: \"In the sea-water itself there is no harm. It is some\nof the rivers flowing into it that are poisonous. Do you, therefore,\nfirst close the mouths of all the rivers both in Aino-land and in Japan,\nand prevent them from flowing into the sea, and then I will undertake to\ndrink the sea dry.\" Hereupon the Chief of the Mouth of the River felt\nashamed, acknowledged his error, and gave all his treasures to his\nrival.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch an idea as this of first \"stopping the rivers\" might well have been\nconceived independently by different peoples, but surely not by such a\nrace so low in the scale of humanity as the Ainos, who must have got the\nstory from the Japanese, who in their turn probably derived it from some\nIndian-Buddhist source--perhaps a version of the Book of Sindibad. Of\ncourse, the several European versions and variants have been copied out\nof one book into another, and independent invention is out of the\nquestion.\n\n\n\n\nIGNORANCE OF THE CLERGY IN THE MIDDLE AGES.\n\n  _Orl._ Whom ambles Time withal?\n\n  _Ros._ With a priest that lacks Latin; for he sleeps easily,\n  because he cannot study, lacking the burden of lean and wasteful\n  learning.--_As You Like It_.\n\n\nDuring the 7th and 8th centuries the state of letters throughout\nChristian Europe was so low that very few of the bishops could compose\ntheir own discourses, and some of those Church dignitaries thought it no\nshame to publicly acknowledge their inability to write their own names.\nNumerous instances occur in the Acts of the Councils of Ephesus and\nChalcedon of an inscription in these words: \"I, ----, have subscribed\nby the hand of ----, because I cannot write\"; and such a bishop having\nthus confessed that he could not write, there followed: \"I, ----, whose\nname is underwritten, have therefore subscribed for him.\"\n\nAlfred the Great--who was twelve years of age before a tutor could be\nfound competent to teach him the alphabet--complained, towards the close\nof the 9th century, that \"from the Humber to the Thames there was not a\npriest who understood the liturgy in his mother-tongue, or could\ntranslate the easiest piece of Latin\"; and a correspondent of Abelard,\nabout the middle of the 12th century, complimenting him upon a resort to\nhim of pupils from all countries, says that \"even Britain, distant as\nshe is, sends her savages to be instructed by you.\"\n\nHenri Etienne, in the Introduction to his Apology for Herodotus,[148]\nsays that \"the most brutish and blockish ignorance was to be found in\nfriars' cowls, especially mass-mongering priests, which we are the less\nto wonder at, considering that which Menot twits them in the teeth\nwithal, that instead of books there was nothing to be found in their\nchambers but a sword, or a long-bow, or a cross-bow, or some such\nweapon. But how could they send _ad ordos_ such ignorant asses? You must\nnote, sir, that they which examined them were as wise as woodcocks\nthemselves, and therefore judged of them as penmen of pikemen and blind\nmen of colours. Or were it that they had so much learning in their\nbudgets as that they could make a shift to know their inefficiency, yet\nto pleasure those that recommended them they suffered them to pass. One\nis famous among the rest, who being asked by the bishop sitting at the\ntable: 'Es tu dignus?' answered, 'No, my Lord, but I shall dine anon\nwith your men.' For he thought that _dignus_ (that is, worthy) signified\nto dine.\"\n\n  [148] This is a work distinct from Henri Etienne's _Apologia\n        pour Herodote_. An English translation of it was\n        published at London in 1807, and at Edinburgh in 1808,\n        under the title of \"_A World of Wonders_; or, an\n        Introduction to a Treatise touching the Conformitie of\n        Ancient and Modern Wonders; or, a Preparative Treatise\n        to the Apology for Herodotus,\" etc. For this book (the\n        \"Introduction\") Etienne had to quit France, fearing the\n        wrath of the clerics. His _Apologie pour Herodote_ has\n        not been rendered into English--and why not, it would be\n        hard to say.\n\nEtienne gives another example, which, however, belongs rather to the\nclass of simpleton stories: A young man going to the bishop for\nadmission into holy orders, to test his _learning_, was asked by the\nprelate, \"Who was the father of the Four Sons of Aymon?\"[149] and not\nknowing what answer to make, this promising candidate was refused as\ninefficient. Returning home, and explaining why he had not been\nordained, his father told him that he must be an ass if he could not\ntell who was the father of the four sons of Aymon. \"See, I pray thee,\"\nquoth he, \"yonder is Great John, the smith, who has four sons; if a man\nshould ask thee who was their father, wouldst thou not say it was Great\nJohn, the smith?\" \"Yes,\" said the brilliant youth; \"now I understand\nit.\" Thereupon he went again before the bishop, and being asked a second\ntime, \"Who was the father of the Four Sons of Aymon?\" he promptly\nreplied: \"Great John, the smith.\"[150]\n\n  [149] One of the Charlemagne Romances, translated by Caxton\n        from the French, and printed by him about the year 1489,\n        under the title of _The Right Pleasaunt and Goodly\n        Historie of the Four Sonnes of Aymon_. It has been\n        reprinted for the Early English Text Society, ably\n        edited by Miss Octavia Richardson.\n\n  [150] A slightly different version is found in _A Hundred Mery\n        Talys_, No. lxix, \"Of the franklyns sonne that cam to\n        take orders.\" The bishop says that Noah had three sons,\n        Shem, Ham, and Japheth;--who was the father of Japheth?\n        When the \"scholar\" returns home and tells his father how\n        he had been puzzled by the bishop, he endeavours to\n        enlighten his son thus: \"Here is Colle, my dog, that\n        hath three whelps; must not these three whelps have\n        Colle for their sire?\" Going back to the bishop, he\n        informs his lordship that the father of Japheth was\n        \"Colle, my father's dogge.\"\n\nThe same author asks who but the churchmen of those days of ignorance\ncorrupted and perverted the text of the New Testament? Thus, in the\nparable of the lost piece of money, _evertit domum_, \"she overturned the\nhouse,\" was substituted for _everrit domum_, \"she _swept_ the house.\"\nAnd in the Acts of the Apostles, where Saul (or Paul) is described as\nbeing let down from the house on the wall of Damascus in a basket, for\n_demissus per sportam_ was substituted _demissus per portam_, a\ncorrection which called forth a rather witty Latin epigram to this\neffect:\n\n  This way the other day did pass\n  As jolly a carpenter as ever was;\n  So strangely skilful in his trade,\n  That of a _basket_ a _door_ he made.\n\nAmong the many curious anecdotes told in illustration of the gross\nignorance of the higher orders of the clergy in medieval times the two\nfollowing are not the least amusing:\n\nAbout the year 1330 Louis Beaumont was bishop of Durham. He was an\nextremely illiterate French nobleman, so incapable of reading that he\ncould not, although he had studied them, read the bulls announced to the\npeople at his consecration. During that ceremony the word\n\"metropoliticae\" occurred. The bishop paused, and tried in vain to repeat\nit, and at last remarked: \"Suppose that said.\" Then he came to\n\"enigmate,\" which also puzzled him. \"By St. Louis!\" he exclaimed in\nindignation, \"it could be no gentleman who wrote that stuff!\"\n\nOur second anecdote is probably more generally known: Andrew Forman, who\nwas bishop of Moray and papal legate for Scotland, at an entertainment\ngiven by him at Rome to the Pope and cardinals, blundered so in his\nLatinity when he said grace that his Holiness and the cardinals lost\ntheir gravity. The disconcerted bishop concluded his blessing by giving\n\"a' the fause carles to the de'il,\" to which the company, not\nunderstanding his Scotch Latinity, said \"Amen!\"\n\nWhen such was the condition of the bishops, it is not surprising to find\nthat few of the ordinary priests were acquainted with even the rudiments\nof the Latin tongue, and they consequently mumbled over masses which\nthey did not understand. A rector of a parish, we are told, going to law\nwith his parishioners about paving the church, cited these words,\n_Paveant illi, non paveam ego_, which, ascribing them to St. Peter, he\nthus construed: \"They are to pave the church, not I\"--and this was\nallowed to be good law by a judge who was himself an ecclesiastic.\n\nWe have an amusing example of the ignorance of the lower orders of\nchurchmen during the \"dark ages\" in No. xii of _A Hundred Mery Talys_,\nas follows: \"The archdekyn of Essex, that had ben longe in auctorite, in\na tyme of vysytacyon, whan all the prestys apperyd before hym, called\naside iii. of the yonge prestys which were acusyd that th[e]y could not\nwel say theyr dyvyne service, and askyd of them, when they sayd mas,\nwhether they sayd corpus meus or corpum meum. The fyrst prest sayde that\nhe sayd corpus meus. The second sayd that he sayd corpum meum. And than\nhe asked of the thyrd how he sayde; whyche answered and sayd thus: Sir,\nbecause it is so great a dout, and dyvers men be in dyvers opynyons,\ntherfore, because I wolde be sure I wolde not offende, whan I come to\nthe place I leve it clene out and say nothynge therfore. Wherfore the\nbysshoppe than openly rebuked them all thre. But dyvers that were\npresent thought more defaut in hym, because he hym selfe beforetyme had\nadmytted them to be prestys.\" And assuredly they were right in so\nthinking, and the worthy archdeacon (or bishop, as he is also styled),\nwho had probably passed the three young men \"for value received\" from\ntheir fathers, should have refrained from publicly examining them\nafterwards.\n\nThe covetousness and irreverence of the churchmen in former times are\nwell exemplified in another tale given in the same old jest-book, No.\nlxxi, which, with spelling modernised, goes thus: \"Sometime there\ndwelled a priest in Stratford-on-Avon, of small learning, which\nundevoutly sang mass and oftentimes twice on one day. So it happened on\na time, after his second mass was done in short space, not a mile from\nStratford there met him divers merchantmen, which would have heard mass,\nand desired him to sing mass and he should have a groat, which answered\nthem and said: 'Sirs, I will say mass no more this day; but I will say\nyou two gospels for one groat, and that is dog-cheap for a mass in any\nplace in England.'\" The story-teller does not inform us whether the\npious merchants accepted of the business-like compromise offered by\n\"Mass John.\"\n\nHagiolatry was quite as much in vogue among the priesthood in medieval\ntimes as mariolatry has since been the special characteristic of the\nRomish Church, to the subordination (one might almost say, the\nsuppression) of the only true object of worship; in proof of which, here\nis a droll anecdote from another early English collection, _Mery Tales,\nWittie Questions, and Quicke Answeres, very pleasant to be readde_ (No.\ncxix): \"A friar, preaching to the people, extolled Saint Francis above\n[all] confessors, doctors, virgins, martyrs, prophets--yea, and above\none more than prophets, John the Baptist, and finally above the\nseraphical order of angels; and still he said, 'Yet let us go higher.'\nSo when he could go no farther, except he should put Christ out of his\nplace, which the good man was half afraid to do, he said aloud, 'And yet\nwe have found no fit place for him.' And, staying a little while, he\ncried out at last, saying, 'Where shall we place the holy father?' A\nfroward fellow standing among the audience,[151] said, 'If thou canst\nfind none other, then set him here in my place, for I am weary,' and so\nhe went his way.\"--This \"froward fellow's\" unexpected reply will\ndoubtless remind the reader of the old man's remark in the mosque, about\nthe \"calling of Noah,\" _ante_, pp. 66, 67.[152]\n\n  [151] There were no pews in the churches in those \"good old\n        times.\"\n\n  [152] _Apropos_ of saint-worship, quaint old Thomas Fuller\n        relates a droll story in his _Church History_, ed. 1655,\n        p. 278: A countryman who had lived many years in the\n        Hercinian woods, in Germany, at last came into a\n        populous city, demanding of the people therein, what God\n        they did worship. They answered him, that they\n        worshipped Jesus Christ. Whereupon the wild wood-man\n        asked the names of the several churches in the city,\n        which were all called by sundry saints, to whom they\n        were consecrated. \"It is strange,\" said he, \"that you\n        should worship Jesus Christ, and he not have a temple in\n        all the city dedicated to him.\"\n\nProbably not less than one third of the jests current in Europe in the\n16th century turned on the ignorance of the Romish clergy--such, for\ninstance, as that of the illiterate priest who, finding _salta per tria_\n(skip over three leaves) written at the foot of a page in his mass-book,\ndeliberately jumped down three of the steps before the altar, to the\ngreat astonishment of the congregation; or that of another who, finding\nthe title of the day's service indicated only by the abbreviation _Re._,\nread the mass of the Requiem instead of the service of the Resurrection;\nor that of yet another, who being so illiterate as to be unable to\npronounce readily the long words in his ritual always omitted them, and\npronounced the word Jesus, which he said was much more devotional.\n\nThere is a diverting tale of a foolish cure of Brou, which is well\nworthy of reproduction, in _Les Contes; ou, les Nouvelles Recreations et\nJoyeux Devis_, by Bonaventure des Periers--one of the best story-books\nof the 16th century (Bonaventure succeeded the celebrated poet Clement\nMarot as _valet-de-chambre_ to Margaret, queen of Navarre):\n\nIt happened that a lady of rank and importance, on her way to Chateaudun\nto keep there the festival of Easter, passed through Brou on Good\nFriday, about ten o'clock in the morning, and, wishing to hear service,\nshe went into the church. When the cure came to the Passion he said it\nin his own peculiar manner, and made the whole church ring when he said,\n\"_Quem, quaeritis_?\" But when it came to the reply, \"_Jesum,\nNazarenum_,\"[153] he spoke as low as he possibly could, and in this\nmanner he continued the Passion. The lady, who was very devout and, for\na woman, well-informed, in the Holy Scriptures [the reader will\nunderstand this was early in the 16th century], and attentive to\necclesiastical ceremonies, felt scandalised at this mode of chanting,\nand wished that she had never entered the church. She had a mind to\nspeak to the cure, and tell him what she thought of it, and for this\npurpose sent for him to come to her after service. When he was come,\n\"Monsieur le Cure,\" she said to him, \"I don't know where you have\nlearned to officiate on a day like this, when the people ought to be all\nhumility. But to hear you perform the service is enough to drive away\nanybody's devotion.\" \"How so, madame?\" said the cure. \"How so?\"\nresponded the lady. \"You have said a Passion contrary to all rules of\ndecency. When our Lord speaks you cry as if you were in the town-hall,\nand when it is Caiaphas, or Pilate, or the Jews, you speak softly like a\nyoung bride. Is this becoming in one like you? Are you fit to be a cure?\nIf you had what you deserve, you would be turned out of your benefice,\nand then you would be made to know your fault.\" When the cure had very\nattentively listened to the good lady, \"Is this what you have to say to\nme, madame?\" said he. \"By my soul! it is very true what you say, and the\ntruth is, there are many people who talk of things which they do not\nunderstand. Madame, I believe I know my office as well as another, and\nbeg all the world to know that God is as well served in this parish\naccording to its condition as in any place within a hundred leagues of\nit. I know very well that the other cures chant the Passion quite\ndifferently. I could easily chant it like them if I would; but they\ndon't understand their business at all. I should like to know if it\nbecomes those rogues of Jews to speak as loud as our Lord? No, no,\nmadame; rest assured that in my parish it is my will that God be master,\nand he shall be as long as I live, and let others do in their parishes\naccording to their understanding.\"\n\n  [153] \"Jesus, therefore, knowing all things that should come\n        upon him, went forth, and said unto them, 'Whom seek\n        ye?' They answered him, 'Jesus of Nazareth.'\"--_Gospel\n        of S. John_, xviii, 4, 5.\n\nThis is another of Des Periers' comical tales at the expense of the\nclerical orders: There was a priest of a village who was as proud as\nmight be because he had seen a little more than his Cato. And this made\nhim set up his feathers and talk very grand, using words that filled his\nmouth in order to make people think him a great doctor. Even at\nconfession he made use of terms which astonished the poor people. One\nday he was confessing a poor working man, of whom he asked: \"Here, now,\nmy friend, tell me, art thou not ambitious?\" The poor man said, \"No,\"\nthinking this was a word which belonged to great lords, and almost\nrepented of having come to confess to this priest; for he had already\nheard that he was such a great clerk and that he spoke so grandly that\nnobody understood him, which he knew by the word _ambitious_; for\nalthough he might have heard it somewhere, yet he knew not at all what\nit meant. The priest went on to ask: \"Art thou not a gourmand?\" Said the\nlabourer, who understood as little as before: \"No.\" \"Art thou not\nsuperbe\" [proud]? \"No.\" \"Art thou not iracund\" [passionate]? \"No.\" The\npriest, seeing the man always answer, \"No,\" was somewhat surprised. \"Art\nthou not concupiscent?\" \"No.\" \"And what are thou, then?\" said the\npriest. \"I am,\" said he, \"a mason--here's my trowel.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nReaders acquainted with the _fabliaux_ of the minstrels (the Trouveres)\nof Northern France know that those light-hearted gentry very often\nlaunched their satirical shafts at the churchmen of their day. One of\nthe _fabliaux_ in Barbazan's collection relates how a doltish,\nthick-headed priest was officiating in his church on Good Friday, and\nwhen about to read the service for that day he discovered that he had\nlost his book-mark (\"_mais il ot perdu ses festuz_.\")[154] Then he began\nto go back and turn over the leaves, but until Ascension Day he found\nnot the Passion service. And the assembled peasants fretted and\ncomplained that he made them fast too long, since it was time for the\nfestival. \"Had he but said them the service,\" interjects the _fableur_,\n\"should I make you a longer story?\" So much did they grumble on all\nsides, that the priest began on them and fell to saying very rapidly,\nfirst in a loud and then in a low tone of voice, \"_Dixit Dominus Domino\nmeo_\" (the Lord said unto my Lord); \"but,\" says the _fableur_, \"I cannot\nfind here any sequel.\" The priest having read the text as chance might\nlead him, read the vespers for Sunday;--and you must know he travailed\nhard, that the offerings should be worth something to him. Then he fell\nto crying, \"Barabbas!\"--no crier could have cried a ban so loud as he\ncried to them; and everyone began to confess his sins aloud (i.e.,\nstruck up \"_mea culpa_\") and cried, \"Mercy!\" The priest, who read on the\nsequence of his Psalter, once more began to cry out, saying, \"Crucify\nhim!\" So that both men and women prayed God that he would defend them\nfrom torment. But it sorely vexed the clerk, who said to the priest,\n\"Make an end\"; but he answered, \"Make no end, friend, till 'unto the\nmarvellous works'\"--referring to a passage in the Psalter. The clerk\nthen said that a long Passion service boots nothing, and that it is\nnever a gain to keep the people too long. And as soon as the offerings\nof the people were collected he finished the Passion.--\"By this tale,\"\nadds the _raconteur_, \"I would show you how--by the faith of Saint\nPaul!--it as well befits a fool to talk folly and sottishness as it\nbecomes a wise man to speak wisely. And he is a fool who believes me\nnot.\"[155]--A commentary, this, which recalls the old English saying,\nthat \"it is as great marvel to see a woman weep as to see a goose go\nbarefoot.\"\n\n  [154] _Festueum_, the split straw so used in the Middle Ages.\n\n  [155] See Meon's edition of Barbazan's _Fabliaux et Contes_,\n        ed. 1808, tome ii, p. 442, and a prose _extrait_ in Le\n        Grand d'Aussy's collection, ed. 1781, tome iv, p. 101,\n        \"Du Pretre qui dit la Passion.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey were bold fellows, those Trouveres. Not content with making the\nignorance and the gross vices of the clerical orders the subjects of\ntheir _fabliaux_, they did not scruple to ridicule their superstitious\nteachings, as witness the satire on saint-worship, entitled \"Du vilain\n[i.e., peasant] qui conquist Paradis par plait,\" the substance of which\nis as follows: A poor peasant dies suddenly, and his soul escapes at a\nmoment when neither angel nor demon was on the watch, so that, unclaimed\nand left to his own discretion, the peasant follows St. Peter, who\nhappened to be on his way to Paradise, and enters the gate with him\nunperceived. When the saint finds that the soul of such a low person has\nfound its way into Paradise he is angry, and rudely orders the peasant\nout. But the latter accuses St. Peter of denying his Saviour, and,\nconscience-stricken, the gate-keeper of heaven applies to St. Thomas,\nwho undertakes to drive away the intruder. The peasant, however,\ndisconcerts St. Thomas by reminding him of his disbelief, and St. Paul,\nwho comes next, fares no better--he had persecuted the saints. At length\nChrist hears of what had occurred, and comes himself. The Saviour\nlistens benignantly to the poor soul's pleading, and ends by forgiving\nthe peasant his sins, and allowing him to remain in Paradise.[156]\n\n  [156] See Meon's Barbazan, 1808, tome iv, p. 114; also Le\n        Grand, 1781, tome ii, p. 190: \"Du Vilain qui gagna\n        Paradis en plaidant.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere exists a very singular English burlesque of the unprofitable\nsermons of the preaching friars in the Middle Ages, which is worthy of\nRabelais himself, and of which this is a modernised extract:\n\n_Mollificant olera durissima crusta._--\"Friends, this is to say to your\nignorant understanding, that hot plants and hard crusts make soft hard\nplants. The help and the grace of the gray goose that goes on the green,\nand the wisdom of the water wind-mill, with the good grace of a gallon\npitcher, and all the salt sausages that be sodden in Norfolk upon\nSaturday, be with us now at our beginning, and help us in our ending,\nand quit you of bliss and both your eyes, that never shall have ending.\nAmen. My dear curst creatures, there was once a wife whose name was\nCatherine Fyste, and she was crafty in court, and well could carve.\nHence she sent after the four Synods of Rome to know why, wherefore, and\nfor what cause that Alleluja was closed before the cup came once round.\nWhy, believest thou not, forsooth, that there stood once a cock on St.\nPaul's steeple-top, and drew up the strapples of his breech? How provest\nthou that tale? By all the four doctors of Wynberryhills--that is to\nsay, Vertas, Gadatryne, Trumpas, and Dadyltrymsert--the which four\ndoctors say there was once an old wife had a cock to her son, and he\nlooked out of an old dove-cot, and warned and charged that no man should\nbe so hardy either to ride or go on St. Paul's steeple-top unless he\nrode on a three-footed stool, or else that he brought with him a warrant\nof his neck\"--and so on, in this fantastical style.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe meaning of the phrase \"benefit of clergy\" is not perhaps very\ngenerally understood. The phrase had its origin in those days of\nintellectual darkness, when the state of letters was so low that anyone\nfound guilty in a court of justice of a crime which was punishable with\ndeath, if he could prove himself able to read a verse in a Latin Bible\nhe was pardoned, as being a man of learning, and therefore likely to be\nuseful to the state; but if he could not read he was sure to be hanged.\nThis privilege, it is said, was granted to all offences, excepting high\ntreason and sacrilege, till after the year 1350. At first it was\nextended not only to the clergy but to any person that could read, who,\nhowever, had to vow that he would enter into holy orders; but with the\nincrease of learning this \"benefit to clergy\" was restricted by several\nActs of Parliament, and it was finally abolished only so late as the\nreign of George IV.\n\nIn _Pasquils Jests and Mother Bunches Merriments_, a book of _facetiae_\nvery popular in the 16th century, a story is told of a criminal at the\nOxford Assizes who \"prayed his clergy,\" and a Bible was accordingly\nhanded to him that he might read a verse. He could not read a word,\nhowever, which a scholar who chanced to be present observing, he stood\nbehind him and prompted him with the verse he was to read; but coming\ntowards the end, the man's thumb happened to cover the remaining words,\nand so the scholar, in a low voice, said: \"Take away thy thumb,\" which\nwords the man, supposing them to form part of the verse he was reading,\nrepeated aloud, \"Take away thy thumb\"--whereupon the judge ordered him\nto be taken away and hanged. And in Taylor's _Wit and Mirth_ (1630): \"A\nfellow having his book [that is, having read a verse in the Bible] at\nthe sessions, was burnt in the hand, and was commanded to say: 'May God\nsave the King.' 'The King!' said he, 'God save my grandam, that taught\nme to read; I am sure I had been hanged else.'\"\n\nThe verse in the Bible which a criminal was required to read, in order\nto entitle him to the \"benefit of clergy\" (the beginning of the 51st\nPsalm, \"Miserere mei\"), was called the \"neck-verse,\" because his doing\nso saved his neck from the gallows. It is sometimes jestingly alluded to\nin old plays. For example, in Massinger's _Great Duke of Florence_, Act\niii, sc. 1:\n\n  _Cataminta_.--How the fool stares!\n\n  _Fiorinda_.--And looks as if he were conning his neck-verse;\n\nand in the same dramatist's play of _The Picture_:\n\n          Twang it perfectly,\n  As if it were your neck-verse.\n\nIn the anonymous _Pleasant Comedy of Patient Grissell_ (1603), Act ii,\nsc. 1, we find this custom again referred to:\n\n  _Farnese_.--Ha, hah! Emulo not write and read?\n\n  _Rice_.--Not a letter, an you would hang him.\n\n  _Urcenze_.--Then he'll never be saved by his book.\n\nIn Scott's _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, the moss-trooper, William of\nDeloraine, assures the lady, who had warned him not to look into what he\nshould receive from the Monk of St. Mary's Aisle, \"be it scroll or be it\nbook,\" that\n\n  \"Letter nor line know I never a one,\n  Were't my neck-verse at Haribee\"--\n\nthe place where such Border rascals were usually executed.\n\nIt was formerly the custom to sing a psalm at the gallows before a\ncriminal was \"turned off.\" And there is a good story, in Zachary Gray's\nnotes to _Hudibras_, told of one of the chaplains of the famous\nMontrose; how, being condemned in Scotland to die for attending his\nmaster in some of his expeditions, and being upon the ladder and ordered\nto select a psalm to be sung, expecting a reprieve, he named the 119th\nPsalm, with which the officer attending the execution complied (the\nScottish Presbyterians were great psalm-singers in those days), and it\nwas well for him he did so, for they had sung it half through before the\nreprieve came. Any other psalm would certainly have hanged him! Cotton,\nin his _Virgil Travestie_, thus alludes to the custom of psalm-singing\nat the foot of the gallows:\n\n  Ready, when Dido gave the word,\n  To be advanced into the halter,\n  Without the benefit on's Psalter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Then 'cause she would, to part the sweeter,\n  A portion have of Hopkins' metre,\n  As people use at execution,\n  For the decorum of conclusion,\n  Being too sad to sing, she says.[157]\n\n  [157] _Scarronides; or, Virgil Travestie_, etc., by Charles\n        Cotton, Book iv. _Poetical Works_, 5th edition, London,\n        1765, pp. 122, 140.\n\nIf the clergy in medieval times had, as they are said to have had, all\nthe learning among themselves, what a blessed state of ignorance must\nthe laity have been in! And so, indeed, it appears, for there is extant\nan old Act of Parliament which provides that a nobleman shall be\nentitled to the \"benefit of clergy,\" even though he could not read. And\nanother law sets forth that \"the command of the sheriff to his officer\nby word of mouth, and without writing is good; for it may be that\nneither the sheriff nor his officer can write or read!\" Many charters\nare preserved to which persons of great dignity, even kings, have\naffixed the sign of the cross, because they were not able to write their\nnames, and hence the term of _signing_, instead of subscribing. In this\nrespect a ten-year-old Board School boy in these \"double-distilled\" days\nis vastly superior to the most renowned of the \"barons bold.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BEARDS OF OUR FATHERS.\n\n  'Tis merry in the hall when beards wag all.--_Old Song_.\n\n\nAmong the harmless foibles of adolescence which contribute to the quiet\namusement of folks of mature years is the eager desire of youths to have\ntheir smooth faces adorned with that \"noble\" distinction of manhood--a\nbeard. And no wonder. For, should a clever lad, getting out of his\n\"teens,\" venture to express opinions contrary to those of his elders\npresent, is he not at once snubbed by being called \"a beardless boy\"? A\nboy! Bitter taunt! He very naturally feels that he is grossly insulted,\nand all because his \"dimpled chin never has known the barber's shear.\"\nFull well does our ingenuous youth know that a man is not wise in\nconsequence of his beard--that, as the Orientals say of women's long\nhair, it often happens that men with long beards have short wits;\nnevertheless, had he but a beard himself, he should then be free from\nsuch a wretched \"argument\"--such an implied accusation of his lack of\nwit, as that he is beardless. The young Roman watched the first\nappearance of the downy precursor of his beard with no little\nsolicitude, and applied the household oil to his face--there were no\npatent specifics in those days for \"infallibly producing luxuriant\nwhiskers and moustaches in a few weeks\"--to promote its tardy growth,\nand entitle him, from the incipient fringe, to be styled \"barbatulus.\"\nWhen his beard was full-grown he was called \"barbatus.\"\n\nIt would seem that the beard was held in the highest esteem, especially\nin Asiatic countries, from the earliest period of which any records have\nbeen preserved. The Hebrew priests are commanded in the Book of\nLeviticus, ch. xix, not to shave off the corners of their beards; and\nthe first High Priest, Aaron, probably wore a magnificent beard, since\nthe amicable relations between brethren are compared, in the 133rd\nPsalm, to \"the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the\nbeard, even Aaron's beard; that went down to the skirts of his\ngarments.\" The Assyrian kings intertwined gold thread with their fine\nbeards--and, judging from mural sculptures, curling tongs must have been\nin considerable demand with them. In ancient Greece the beard was\nuniversally worn, and it is related of Zoilus, the founder of the\nanti-Homeric school, that he shaved the crown of his head, in order that\nall the virtue should go to the nourishment of his beard. Persius could\nnot think of a more complimentary epithet to apply to Socrates than that\nof \"Magistrum Barbatum,\" or Bearded Master--the notion being that the\nbeard was the symbol of profound sagacity.[158] Alexander the Great,\nhowever, caused his soldiers to shave off their beards, because they\nfurnished their enemies with handles whereby to seize hold of them in\nbattle. The beard was often consecrated to the deities, as the most\nprecious offering. Chaucer, in his _Knight's Tale_, represents Arcite as\noffering his beard to Mars:\n\n  And evermore, unto that day I dye,\n  Eterne fyr I wol bifore the fynde,\n  And eek to this avow I wol me bynde,\n  My berd, myn heer, that hangeth long a doun,\n  That neuer yit ne felt offensioun\n  Of rasour ne of schere, I wol ye giue,\n  And be thy trewe seruaunt whiles I lyue.[159]\n\n  [158] The notion that a beard indicated wisdom on the part of\n        the wearer is often referred to in early European\n        literature. For example, in Lib. v of Caxton's Esop, the\n        Fox, to induce the sick King Lion to kill the Wolf, says\n        he has travelled far and wide, seeking a good medicine\n        for his Majesty, and \"certaynly I have found no better\n        counceylle than the counceylle of an auncyent Greke,\n        with a grete and long berd, a man of grete wysdom, sage,\n        and worthy to be praysed.\" And when the Fox, in another\n        fable, leaves the too-credulous Goat in the well,\n        Reynard adds insult to injury by saying to him, \"O\n        maystre goote, yf thow haddest be [i.e. been] wel\n        wyse, with thy fayre berde,\" and so forth. (Pp. 153 and\n        196 of Mr. Jacobs' new edition.)--A story is told of a\n        close-shaven French ambassador to the court of some\n        Eastern potentate, that on presenting his credentials\n        his Majesty made sneering remarks on his smooth face\n        (doubtless he was himself \"bearded to the eyes\"), to\n        which the envoy boldly replied: \"Sire, had my master\n        supposed that you esteem a beard so highly, instead of\n        me, he would have sent your Majesty a goat as his\n        ambassador.\"\n\n  [159] Harleian MS. No. 7334, lines 2412-2418. Printed for the\n        Early English Text Society.\n\nSelim I was the first Turkish sultan who shaved his beard after his\naccession to the throne; and when his muftis remonstrated with him for\nthis _dangerous_ innovation, he facetiously replied that he had removed\nhis beard in order that his vazirs should not have wherewith to _lead_\nhim. The beards of modern Persian soldiers were abolished in consequence\nof a singular accident, which Morier thus relates in his _Second\nJourney_: When European discipline was introduced into the Persian army,\nLieutenant Lindsay raised a corps of artillery. His zeal was only\nequalled by the encouragement of the king, who liberally adopted every\nmethod proposed. It was only upon the article of shaving off the beards\nof the Persian soldiers that the king was inexorable; nor would the\nsacrifice have ever taken place had it not happened that, in discharging\nthe guns before the prince, a powder-horn exploded in the hand of a\ngunner who had been gifted with a very long beard, which in an instant\nwas blown away from his chin. Lieutenant Lindsay, availing himself of\nthis lucky opportunity to prove his argument on the inconvenience of\nbeards to soldiers, immediately produced the scorched gunner before the\nprince, who was so much struck with his woeful appearance that the\nabolition of military beards was at once decided upon.\n\nIt was customary for the early French monarchs to place three hairs of\ntheir beard under the seal attached to important documents; and there is\nstill extant a charter of the year 1121, which concludes with these\nwords: \"Quod ut ratum et stabile perseveret in posterum, praesentis\nscripto sigilli mei robur apposui cum tribus pilis barbae meae.\"--In\nobedience to his spiritual advisers, Louis VII of France had his hair\ncut close and his beard shaved off. But his consort Eleanor was so\ndisgusted with his smooth face and cropped head that she took her own\nmeasures to be revenged, and the poor king was compelled to obtain a\ndivorce from her. She subsequently gave her hand to the Count of Anjou,\nafterwards Henry II of England, and the rich provinces of Poitou and\nGuienne were her dowry. From this sprang those terrible wars which\ncontinued for three centuries, and cost France untold treasure and three\nmillions of men--and all because Louis did not consult his consort\nbefore shaving off his beard!\n\nCharles the Fifth of Spain ascending the throne while yet a mere boy,\nhis courtiers shaved their beards in compliment to the king's smooth\nface. But some of the shaven Dons were wont to say bitterly, \"Since we\nhave lost our beards, we have lost our souls!\" Sully, the eminent\nstatesman and soldier, scorned, however, to follow the fashion, and,\nbeing one day summoned to Court on urgent business of State, his beard\nwas made the subject of ridicule by the foppish courtiers. The veteran\nthus gravely addressed the king: \"Sire, when your father, of glorious\nmemory, did me the honour to consult me in grave State matters, he first\ndismissed the buffoons and stage-dancers from the presence-chamber.\" It\nmay be readily supposed that after this well-merited rebuke the grinning\ncourtiers at once disappeared.\n\nJulius II, one of the most warlike of all the Roman Pontiffs, was the\nfirst Pope who permitted his beard to grow, to inspire the faithful with\nstill greater respect for his august person. Kings and their courtiers\nwere not slow to follow the example of the Head of the Church and the\nruler of kings, and the fashion soon spread among people of all ranks.\n\nSo highly prized was the beard in former times that Baldwin, Prince of\nEdessa, as Nicephorus relates in his Chronicle, pawned his beard for a\nlarge sum of money, which was redeemed by his father Gabriel, Prince of\nMelitene, to prevent the ignominy which his son must have suffered by\nits loss. And when Juan de Castro, the Portuguese admiral, borrowed a\nthousand pistoles from the citizens of Goa he pledged one of his\nwhiskers, saying, \"All the gold in the world cannot equal this natural\nornament of my valour.\" And it is said the people of Goa were so much\naffected by the noble message that they remitted the money and returned\nthe whisker--though of what earthly use it could prove to the gallant\nadmiral, unless, perhaps, to stuff a tennis ball, it is not easy to say.\n\nTo deprive a man of his beard was a token of ignominious subjection, and\nis still a common mode of punishment in some Asiatic countries. And such\nwas the treatment that the conjuror Pinch received at the hands of\nAntipholus of Ephesus and his man, in the _Comedy of Errors_, according\nto the servant's account of the outrage, who states that not only had\nthey \"beaten the maids a-row,\" but they\n\n                      bound the doctor,\n  Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;\n  And ever as it blazed they threw on him\n  Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair (v, 1).\n\nIn Persia and India when a wife is found to have been unfaithful, her\nhair--the distinguishing ornament of woman, as the beard is considered\nto be that of man--is shaved off, among other indignities.\n\nDon Sebastian Cobbarruvius gravely relates the following marvellous\nlegend to show that nothing so much disgraced a Spaniard as pulling his\nbeard: \"A noble of that nation dying (his name Cid Lai Dios), a Jew, who\nhated him much in his lifetime, stole privately into the room where his\nbody was laid out, and, thinking to do what he never durst while living,\nstooped down and plucked his beard; at which the body started up, and\ndrawing out half way his sword, which lay beside him, put the Jew in\nsuch a fright that he ran out of the room as if a thousand devils had\nbeen behind him. This done, the body lay down as before to rest; and,\"\nadds the veracious chronicler, \"the Jew after that turned\nChristian.\"--In the third of Don Quevedo's Visions of the Last Judgment,\nwe read that a Spaniard, after receiving sentence, was taken into\ncustody by a pair of demons who happened to disorder the set of his\nmoustache, and they had to re-compose them with a pair of curling-tongs\nbefore they could get him to proceed with them!\n\nBy the rules of the Church of Rome, lay monks were compelled to wear\ntheir beards, and only the priests were permitted to shave.[160] The\nclergy at length became so corrupt and immoral, and lived such\nscandalous lives, that they could not be distinguished from the laity\nexcept by their close-shaven faces. The first Reformers, therefore, to\nmark their separation from the Romish Church, allowed their beards to\ngrow. Calvin, Fox, Cranmer, and other leaders of the Reformation are all\nrepresented in their portraits with long flowing beards. John Knox, the\ngreat Scottish Reformer, wore, as is well known, a beard of prodigious\nlength.\n\n  [160] In a scarce old poem, entitled, _The Pilgrymage and the\n        Wayes of Jerusalem_, we read:\n\n          The thyrd Seyte beyn prestis of oure lawe,\n          That synge masse at the Sepulcore;\n          At the same grave there oure lorde laye,\n          They synge the leteny every daye.\n          In oure manner is her [i.e. their] songe,\n          Saffe, here [i.e. their] _berdys be ryght longe_,\n          That is the geyse of that contre,\n          _The lenger the berde the bettyr is he_;\n          The order of hem [i.e. them] be barfote freeres.\n\nThe ancient Britons shaved the chin and cheeks, but wore their\nmoustaches down to the breast. Our Saxon ancestors wore forked beards.\nThe Normans at the Conquest shaved not only the chin, but also the back\nof the head. But they soon began to grow very long beards. During the\nWars of the Roses beards grew \"small by degrees and beautifully less.\"\n\nQueen Mary of England, in the year 1555, sent to Moscow four accredited\nagents, who were all bearded; but one of them, George Killingworth, was\nparticularly distinguished by a beard five feet two inches long, at the\nsight of which, it is said, a smile crossed the grim features of Ivan\nthe Terrible himself; and no wonder. But the longest beard known out of\nfairy tales was that of Johann Mayo, the German painter, commonly called\n\"John the Bearded.\" His beard actually trailed on the ground when he\nstood upright, and for convenience he usually kept it tucked in his\ngirdle. The emperor Charles V, it is said, was often pleased to cause\nMayo to unfasten his beard and allow it to blow in the faces of his\ncourtiers.--A worthy clergyman in the time of Queen Elizabeth gave as\nthe best reason he had for wearing a beard of enormous length, \"that no\nact of his life might be unworthy of the gravity of his appearance.\"\n\nQueen Elizabeth, in the first year of her reign, made an abortive\nattempt to abolish her subjects' beards by an impost of 3s. 4d. a year\n(equivalent to four times that sum in these \"dear\" days) on every beard\nof more than a fortnight's growth. And Peter the Great also laid a tax\nupon beards in Russia: nobles' beards were assessed at a rouble, and\nthose of commoners at a copeck each. \"But such veneration,\" says Giles\nFletcher, \"had this people for these ensigns of gravity that many of\nthem carefully preserved their beards in their cabinets to be buried\nwith them, imagining perhaps that they should make but an odd figure in\ntheir grave with their naked chins.\"\n\nThe beard of the renowned Hudibras was portentous, as we learn from\nButler, who thus describes the Knight's hirsute honours:\n\n  His tawny beard was th' equal grace\n  Both of his wisdom and his face;\n  In cut and dye so like a tile,\n  A sadden view it would beguile:\n  The upper part whereof was whey,\n  The nether orange mixt with grey.\n  This hairy meteor did denounce\n  The fall of sceptres and of crowns;\n  With grisly type did represent\n  Declining age of government,\n  And tell, with hieroglyphic spade,\n  Its own grave and the state's were made.\n\nPhilip Nye, an Independent minister in the time of the Commonwealth, and\none of the famous Assembly of Divines, was remarkable for the\nsingularity of his beard. Hudibras, in his Heroical Epistle to the lady\nof his \"love,\" speaks of\n\n                  Amorous intrigues\n  In towers, and curls, and periwigs,\n  With greater art and cunning reared\n  Than Philip Nye's _thanksgiving beard_.\n\nNye opposed Lilly the astrologer with no little virulence, for which he\nwas rewarded with the privilege of holding forth upon Thanksgiving Day,\nand so, as Butler says, in some MS. verses,\n\n  He thought upon it and resolved to put\n  His beard into as wonderful a cut.\n\nButler even honoured Nye's beard with a whole poem, entitled \"On Philip\nNye's Thanksgiving Beard,\" which is printed in his _Genuine Remains_,\nedited by Thyer, vol. i, p. 177 ff., and opens thus:\n\n  A beard is but the vizard of the face,\n  That nature orders for no other place;\n  The fringe and tassel of a countenance\n  That hides his person from another man's,\n  And, like the Roman habits of their youth,\n  Is never worn until his perfect growth.\n\nAnd in another set of verses he has again a fling at the obnoxious beard\nof the same preacher:\n\n  This reverend brother, like a goat,\n  Did wear a tail upon his throat;\n  The fringe and tassel of a face\n  That gives it a becoming grace,\n  But set in such a curious frame,\n  As if 'twere wrought in filograin;\n  And cut so even as if 't had been\n  Drawn with a pen upon the chin.\n\nAs it was customary among the peoples of antiquity who wore their beards\nto cut them off, and for those who shaved to allow their beards to grow,\nin times of mourning, so many of the Presbyterians and Independents\nvowed not to cut their beards till monarchy and episcopacy were utterly\ndestroyed. Thus in a humorous poem, entitled \"The Cobler and the Vicar\nof Bray,\" we read:\n\n  This worthy knight was one that swore,\n    He would not cut his beard\n  Till this ungodly nation was\n    From kings and bishops cleared.\n\n  Which holy vow he firmly kept,\n    And most devoutly wore\n  A grisly meteor on his face,\n    Till they were both no more.\n\nIn _Pericles, Prince of Tyre_, when the royal hero leaves his infant\ndaughter Marina in charge of his friend Cleon, governor of Tharsus, to\nbe brought up in his house, he declares to Cleon's wife (Act iii, sc.\n3):\n\n  Till she be married, madam,\n  By bright Diana, whom we honour all,\n  Unscissored shall this hair of mine remain,\n  Though I show well in't;\n\nand that he meant his beard is evident from what he says at the close of\nthe play, when his daughter is about to be married to Lysimachus,\ngovernor of Mitylene (Act v, sc. 3):\n\n                               And now\n  This ornament, that makes me look so dismal,\n  Will I, my loved Marina, clip to form;\n  And what these fourteen years no razor touched,\n  To grace thy marriage day, I'll beautify.\n\nScott, in his _Woodstock_, represents Sir Henry Lee, of Ditchley, whilom\nRanger of Woodstock Park (or Chase), as wearing his full beard, to\nindicate his profound grief for the death of the \"Royal Martyr,\" which\nindeed was not unusual with elderly and warmly devoted Royalists until\nthe \"Happy Restoration\"--save the mark!\n\nAnother extraordinary beard was that of Van Butchell, the quack doctor,\nwho died at London in 1814, in his 80th year. This singular individual\nhad his first wife's body carefully embalmed and preserved in a glass\ncase in his \"study,\" in order that he might enjoy a handsome annuity to\nwhich he was entitled \"so long as his wife remained above ground.\" His\nperson was for many years familiar to loungers in Hyde Park, where he\nappeared regularly every afternoon, riding on a little pony, and wearing\na magnificent beard of twenty years' growth, which an Oriental might\nwell have envied, the more remarkable in an age when shaving was so\ngenerally practised.--A jocular epitaph was composed on \"Mary Van\nButchell,\" of which these lines may serve as a specimen:\n\n  O fortunate and envied man!\n  To keep a wife beyond life's span;\n  Whom you can ne'er have cause to blame,\n  Is ever constant and the same;\n  Who, qualities most rare, inherits\n  A wife that's dumb, yet _full of spirits_.\n\nThe celebrated Dr. John Hunter is said to have embalmed the body of Van\nButchell's first wife--for the bearded empiric married again--and the\n\"mummy,\" in its original glass case, is still to be seen in the Museum\nof the Royal College of Surgeon's, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, London.\n\nIt was once the fashion for gallants to dye their beards various\ncolours, such as yellow, red, gray, and even green. Thus in the play of\n_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Bottom the weaver asks in what kind of beard\nhe is to play the part of Pyramis--whether \"in your straw-coloured\nbeard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your\nFrench crown-coloured beard, your perfect yellow?\" (Act i, sc. 2.) In\nancient church pictures, and in the miracle plays performed in medieval\ntimes, both Cain and Judas Iscariot were always represented with yellow\nbeards. In the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, Mistress Quickly asks Simple\nwhether his master (Slender) does not wear \"a great round beard, like a\nglover's paring-knife,\" to which he replies: \"No, forsooth; he hath but\na little wee face, with a little yellow beard--a Cain-coloured beard\"\n(Act i, sc. 4).--Allusions to beards are of very frequent occurrence in\nShakspeare's plays, as may be seen by reference to any good Concordance,\nsuch as that of the Cowden Clarkes.\n\nHarrison, in his _Description of England_, ed. 1586, p. 172, thus refers\nto the vagaries of fashion of beards in his time: \"I will saie nothing\nof our heads, which sometimes are polled, sometimes curled, or suffered\nto grow at length like womans lockes, manie times cut off, above or\nunder the eares, round as by a woodden dish. Neither will I meddle with\nour varietie of beards, of which some are shaven from the chin like\nthose of Turks, not a few cut short like to the beard of marques Otto,\nsome made round like a rubbing brush, others with a _pique de vant_ (O\nfine fashion!), or now and then suffered to grow long, the barbers being\ngrowen to be so cunning in this behalfe as the tailors. And therfore if\na man have a leane and streight face, a marquesse Ottons cut will make\nit broad and large; if it be platter like, a long slender beard will\nmake it seeme the narrower; if he be wesell becked, then much heare left\non the cheekes will make the owner looke big like a bowdled hen, and so\ngrim as a goose.\"[161]\n\n  [161] Reprint for the Shakspere Society, 1877, B. ii, ch. vii,\n        p. 169.\n\nBarnaby Rich, in the conclusion of his _Farewell to the Military\nProfession_ (1581), says that the young gallants sometimes had their\nbeards \"cutte rounde, like a Philippes doler; sometymes square, like the\nkinges hedde in Fishstreate; sometymes so neare the skinne, that a manne\nmight judge by his face the gentlemen had had verie pilde lucke.\"[162]\n\n  [162] Reprint for the (old) Shakspeare Society, 1846, p. 217.\n\nIn Taylor's _Superbiae Flagellum_ we find the following amusing\ndescription of the different \"cuts\" of beards:\n\n  Now a few lines to paper I will put,\n  Of mens Beards strange and variable cut:\n  In which there's some doe take as vaine a Pride,\n  As almost in all other things beside.\n  Some are reap'd most substantiall, like a brush,\n  Which makes a Nat'rall wit knowne by the bush:\n  (And in my time of some men I have heard,\n  Whose wisedome have bin onely wealth and beard)\n  Many of these the proverbe well doth fit,\n  Which sayes Bush naturall, More haire then wit.\n  Some seeme as they were starched stiffe and fine,\n  Like to the bristles of some angry swine:\n  And some (to set their Loves desire on edge)\n  Are cut and prun'de like to a quickset hedge.\n  Some like a spade, some like a forke, some square,\n  Some round, some mow'd like stubble, some starke bare,\n  Some sharpe Steletto fashion, dagger like,\n  That may with whispering a mans eyes out pike:\n  Some with the hammer cut, or Romane T,[163]\n  Their beards extravagant reform'd must be,\n  Some with the quadrate, some triangle fashion,\n  Some circular, some ovall in translation,\n  Some perpendicular in longitude,\n  Some like a thicket for their crassitude,\n  That heights, depths, bredths, triforme, square, ovall, round,\n  And rules Ge'metricall in beards are found.\n  Besides the upper lip's strange variation,\n  Corrected from mutation to mutation;\n  As 'twere from tithing unto tithing sent,\n  Pride gives to Pride continuall punishment.\n  Some (spite their teeth) like thatch'd eves downeward grows,\n  And some growes upwards in despite their nose.\n  Some their mustatioes of such length doe keepe,\n  That very well they may a maunger sweepe:\n  Which in Beere, Ale, or Wine, they drinking plunge,\n  And sucke the liquor up, as 'twere a Spunge;\n  But 'tis a Slovens beastly Pride, I thinke,\n  To wash his beard where other men must drinke.\n  And some (because they will not rob the cup),\n  Their upper chaps like pot hookes are turn'd up;\n  The Barbers thus (like Taylers) still must be,\n  Acquainted with each cuts variety--\n  Yet though with beards thus merrily I play,\n  'Tis onely against Pride which I inveigh:\n  For let them weare their haire or their attire,\n  According as their states or mindes desire,\n  So as no puff'd up Pride their hearts possesse,\n  And they use Gods good gifts with thankfulnesse.[164]\n\n  [163] Formed by the moustache and a chin-tuft, as worn by\n        Louis Napoleon and his imperialist supporters.\n\n  [164] _Works of John Taylor, the Water Poet, comprised in the\n        Folio edition of 1630_. Printed for the Spenser Society,\n        1869. \"_Superbiae Flagellum_, or the Whip of Pride,\" p. 34.\n\nThe staunch Puritan Phillip Stubbes, in the second part of his _Anatomie\nof Abuses_ (1583), thus rails at the beards and the barbers of his day:\n\n\"There are no finer fellowes under the sunne, nor experter in their\nnoble science of barbing than they be. And therefore in the fulnes of\ntheir overflowing knowledge (oh ingenious heads, and worthie to be\ndignified with the diademe of follie and vaine curiositie), they have\ninvented such strange fashions and monstrous maners of cuttings,\ntrimings, shavings and washings, that you would wonder to see. They have\none maner of cut called the French cut, another the Spanish cut, one\ncalled the Dutch cut, another the Italian, one the newe cut, another the\nold, one of the bravado fashion, another of the meane fashion. One a\ngentlemans cut, another the common cut, one cut of the court, another of\nthe country, with infinite the like vanities, which I overpasse. They\nhave also other kinds of cuts innumerable; and therefore when you come\nto be trimed, they will aske you whether you will be cut to looke\nterrible to your enimie, or amiable to your freend, grime and sterne in\ncountenance, or pleasant and demure (for they have divers kinds of cuts\nfor all these purposes, or else they lie). Then when they have done all\ntheir feats, it is a world to consider, how their mowchatowes [i.e.,\nmoustaches] must be preserved and laid out, and from one cheke to\nanother, yea, almost from one eare to another, and turned up like two\nhornes towards the forehead. Besides that, when they come to the cutting\nof the haire, what snipping and snapping of the cycers is there, what\ntricking and toying, and all to tawe out mony, you may be sure. And when\nthey come to washing, oh how gingerly they behave themselves therein.\nFor then shall your mouth be bossed with the lather or fome that riseth\nof the balle (for they have their sweet balles wherewith-all they use to\nwashe), your eyes closed must be anointed therewith also. Then snap go\nthe fingers ful bravely, God wot. Thus this tragedy ended, comes me\nwarme clothes, to wipe and dry him withall; next the eares must be\npicked and closed againe togither artificially forsooth. The haire of\nthe nostrils cut away, and every thing done in order comely to behold.\nThe last action in this tragedie is the paiment of monie. And least\nthese cunning barbers might seeme unconscionable in asking much for\ntheir paines, they are of such a shamefast modestie, as they will aske\nnothing at all, but standing to the curtisie and liberalitie of the\ngiver, they will receive all that comes, how much soever it be, not\ngiving anie againe, I warrant you: for take a barber with that fault,\nand strike off his head. No, no, such fellowes are _Rarae aves in\nterris, nigrisque similimi cygnis_, Rare birds upon the earth, and as\ngeason as blacke swans. You shall have also your orient perfumes for\nyour nose, your fragrant waters for your face, wherewith you shall bee\nall to besprinkled, your musicke againe, and pleasant harmonic, shall\nsound in your eares, and all to tickle the same with vaine delight. And\nin the end your cloke shall be brushed, and 'God be with you\nGentleman!'\"[165]\n\n  [165] Reprint for the Shakspere Society, Part ii (1882),\n        pp. 50, 51.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA very curious Ballad of the Beard, of the time of Charles I, if not\nearlier, is reproduced in _Satirical Songs and Poems on Costume_, edited\nby F. W. Fairholt, for the Percy Society, in which \"the varied forms of\nbeards which characterised the profession of each man are amusingly\ndescanted on\":\n\n  The beard, thick or thin, on the lip or the chin,\n    Doth dwell so near the tongue,\n  That her silence in the beards defence\n    May do her neighbour wrong.\n\n  Now a beard is a thing that commands in a king,\n    Be his sceptre ne'er so fair:\n  Where the beard bears the sway the people obey,\n    And are subject to a hair.\n\n  'Tis a princely sight, and a grave delight,\n    That adorns both young and old;\n  A well-thatcht face is a comely grace,\n    And a shelter from the cold.\n\n  When the piercing north comes thundering forth,\n    Let a barren face beware;\n  For a trick it will find, with a razor of wind,\n    To shave a face that's bare.\n\n  But there's many a nice and strange device\n    That doth the beard disgrace;\n  But he that is in such a foolish sin\n    Is a traitor to his face.\n\n  Now of beards there be such company,\n    And fashions such a throng,\n  That it is very hard to handle a beard,\n    Tho' it be never so long.\n\n  The Roman T, in its bravery,\n    Both first itself disclose,\n  But so high it turns, that oft it burns\n    With the flames of a torrid nose.\n\n  The stiletto-beard, oh, it makes me afear'd,\n    It is so sharp beneath,\n  For he that doth place a dagger in 's face,\n    What wears he in his sheath?\n\n  But, methinks, I do itch to go thro' the stitch\n    The needle-beard to amend,\n  Which, without any wrong, I may call too long,\n    For a man can see no end.\n\n  The soldier's beard doth march in shear'd,\n    In figure like a spade,\n  With which he'll make his enemies quake,\n    And think their graves are made.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  What doth invest a bishop's breast,\n    But a milk-white spreading hair?\n  Which an emblem may be of integrity\n    Which doth inhabit there.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  But oh, let us tarry for the beard of King Harry,\n    That grows about the chin,\n  With his bushy pride, and a grove on each side,\n    And a champion ground between.\n\n\"Barnes in the defence of the Berde\" is another curious piece of verse,\nor rather of arrant doggrel, printed in the 16th century. It is\naddressed to Andrew Borde, the learned and facetious physician, in the\ntime of Henry VIII, who seems to have written a tract against the\nwearing of beards, of which nothing is now known. In the second part\nBarnes (whoever he was) says:\n\n  But, syr, I praye you, yf you tell can,\n  Declare to me, when God made man,\n  (I meane by our forefather Adam)\n  Whyther he had a berde than;\n  And yf he had, who dyd hym shave,\n  Syth that a barber he coulde not have.\n  Well, then, ye prove hym there a knave,\n  Bicause his berde he dyd so save:\n                  I fere it not.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Sampson, with many thousandes more\n  Of auncient phylosophers (!), full great store,\n  Wolde not be shaven, to dye therefore;\n  Why shulde you, then, repyne so sore?\n  Admit that men doth imytate\n  Thynges of antyquite, and noble state,\n  Such counterfeat thinges oftymes do mytygate\n  Moche ernest yre and debate:\n                 I fere it not.\n\n  Therefore, to cease, I thinke be best;\n  For berdyd men wolde lyve in rest.\n  You prove yourselfe a homly gest,\n  So folysshely to rayle and jest;\n  For if I wolde go make in ryme,\n  How new shavyd men loke lyke scraped swyne,\n  And so rayle forth, from tyme to tyme,\n  A knavysshe laude then shulde be myne:\n                 I fere it not.\n\nWhat should this avail him? he asks; and so let us all be good friends,\nbearded and unbearded.[166]\n\n  [166] _The Treatise answerynge the boke of Berdes, Compyled by\n        Collyn Clowte, dedicated to Barnarde, Barber, dwellyng\n        in Banbury_: \"Here foloweth a treatyse made, Answerynge\n        the treatyse of doctor Borde upon Berdes.\"--Appended to\n        reprint of Andrew Borde's _Introduction of Knowledge_,\n        edited by Dr. F. J. Furnivall, for the Early English Text\n        Society, 1870--see pp. 314, 315.\n\nBut Andrew Borde, if he did ever write a tract against beards, must have\nformerly held a different opinion on the subject, for in his _Breviary\nof Health_, first printed in 1546, he says: \"The face may have many\nimpediments. The first impediment is to see a man having no beard, and a\nwoman to have a beard.\" It was long a popular notion that the few hairs\nwhich are sometimes seen on the chins of very old women signified that\nthey were in league with the arch-enemy of mankind--in plain English,\nthat they were witches. The celebrated Three Witches who figure in\n_Macbeth_, \"and palter with him in a double sense,\" had evidently this\ndistinguishing mark, for says Banquo to the \"weird sisters\" (Act i, sc.\n2):\n\n                          You should be women,\n  And yet your beards forbid me to interpret\n  That you are so.\n\nAnd in the ever-memorable scene in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, when\nJack Falstaff, disguised as the fat woman of Brentford, is escaping from\nFord's house, he is cuffed and mauled by Ford, who exclaims, \"Hang her,\nwitch!\" on which the honest Cambrian Sir Hugh Evans sapiently remarks:\n\"Py yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed. I like not when a\n'oman has a great peard. I spy a great peard under her muffler!\" (Act\niv, sc. 2.)\n\nThere have been several notable bearded women in different parts of\nEurope. The Duke of Saxony had the portrait painted of a poor Swiss\nwoman who had a remarkably fine, large beard. Bartel Graefje, of\nStuttgart, who was born in 1562, was another bearded woman. In 1726\nthere appeared at Vienna a female dancer with a large bushy beard.\nCharles XII of Sweden had in his army a woman who wore a beard a yard\nand a half in length. In 1852 Mddle. Bois de Chene, who was born at\nGenoa in 1834, was exhibited in London: she had \"a profuse head of hair,\na strong black beard, and large bushy whiskers.\" It is not unusual to\nsee dark beauties in our own country with a moustache which must be the\nenvy of \"young shavers.\" And, _apropos_, the poet Rogers is said to have\nhad a great dislike of ladies' beards, such as this last described; and\nhe happened to be in a circulating library turning over the books on the\ncounter, when a lady, who seemed to cherish her beard with as much\naffection as the young gentlemen aforesaid, alighted from her carriage,\nand, entering the shop, asked the librarian for a certain book. The\npolite man of books replied that he was sorry he had not a copy at\npresent. \"But,\" said Roger, slily, \"you have the _Barber of Seville_,\nhave you not?\" \"O yes,\" said the bookseller, not seeing the poet's\ndrift, \"I have the _Barber of Seville_, very much at your ladyship's\nservice.\" The lady drove away, evidently much offended, but the beard\nafterwards disappeared. Talking of barbers--but they deserve a whole\npaper to themselves, and they shall have it, from me, some day, if I\nlive a little longer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn No. 331 of the _Spectator_, Addison tells us how his friend Sir Roger\nde Coverley, in Westminster Abbey, pointing to the bust of a venerable\nold man, asked him whether he did not think \"our ancestors looked much\nwiser in their beards than we without them. For my part,\" said he, \"when\nI am walking in my gallery in the country, and see my ancestors, who\nmany of them died before they were my age, I cannot forbear regarding\nthem as so many patriarchs, and at the same time looking upon myself as\nan idle, smock-faced young fellow. I love to see your Abrahams, your\nIsaacs, and your Jacobs, as we have them in old pieces of tapestry, with\nbeards below their girdles, that cover half the hangings.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDuring most part of last century close shaving was general throughout\nEurope. In France the beard began to appear on the faces of Bonaparte's\n\"braves,\" and the fashion soon extended to civilians, then to Italy,\nGermany, Spain, Russia, and lastly to England, where, after the gradual\nenlargement of the side-whiskers, the full beard is now commonly\nworn--to the comfort and health of the wearers.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\n    Abbas the Great, 107.\n    Abraham: jealous of his wives, 197;\n      arrival in Egypt, 197;\n      his servant in Sodom, 202;\n      Ishmael's wives, 203;\n      the 'ram caught in a thicket,' 205;\n      the idols, 251.\n    Abstinence, advantages of, 20.\n    Acrostic in the Bible, 251.\n    Adam and Eve, 191, 267, 268.\n    Addison's Spectator, 359.\n    Advice to a conceited man, 44;\n      gratuitous, 261.\n    Aesop--_see_ Esop.\n    Affenschwanz, etc., 192.\n    Aino Folk-Tales, 312.\n    Akhlak-i Jalaly, 23, 261.\n    Aladdin's Lamp, 144.\n    Alakesa Katha, 176.\n    Alexander the Great, 253, 254.\n    Alfonsus, Petrus, 99, 100, 227, 231, 241.\n    Alfred the Great, 315.\n    Ali, Mrs. Meer Hassan, 270.\n    Ambition, vanity of, 254.\n    Amir Khusru, 18.\n    Ancestry, pride of, 22.\n    Androgynous nature of Adam, 191, 192.\n    Ant and Nightingale, 41.\n    Antar, the Arabian poet-hero, 46.\n    Anthologia, 259.\n    Anwari, the Persian poet, 106.\n    Aphorisms of Saadi, 7, 41, 44, 125;\n      of the Jewish Fathers, 260.\n    Apparition, the golden, 136.\n    Arab and his camel, 82.\n    Arab Shah, 87.\n    Arabian lovers, 283, 294.\n    Arabian Nights, 93, 123, 178, 196, 212.\n    Archery feat, 20.\n    Arienti, 203.\n    Ashaab the covetous, 93.\n    Ass, the singing, 149.\n    Astrologer's faithless wife, 36.\n    Attar, Faridu 'd-Din, 51.\n    Athenaeus, 262.\n    Athenians and Jewish boys, 117, 118.\n    Auvaiyar, Tamil poetess, 25, 27, 44.\n    Avarice, 44.\n    Avianus, 44.\n    Aymon, Four Sons of, 317.\n\n    Babrius, 300.\n    Babylonian tale, 210.\n    Bacon on aphorisms, 259.\n    Baghdadi, witty, 83.\n    Baharistan, 40, 48, 63, 109.\n    Bakhtyar Nama, 124, 172.\n    Barbary Tales, 218.\n    Barbazan's Fabliaux, 327, 328.\n    Baring-Gould, 142, 192, 194.\n    Barlaam and Joasaph, 246, 248.\n    Basset's Tales of Barbary, 218.\n    Basket made into a door, 318.\n    Bayazid and the old woman, 302.\n    Beal, Samuel, 147.\n    Beards: Asiatics', 338;\n      Ballad of the Beard, 355;\n      Barnes in defence of the Beard, 356;\n      Britons' and Normans', 344;\n      Coverley (Sir Roger de), on his ancestors', 359;\n      dedicated to deities, 339;\n      dyeing the beard, 349;\n      famous beards, 344, 346;\n      French kings', 346;\n      Greeks', 338;\n      Monks', 343;\n      Pope Julius II, 341;\n      pledged for loans, 342;\n      pulling beard, 343;\n      reformers', 344;\n      Roman youths', 337;\n      Sully's beard, 341;\n      shapes of, 350, 351, 352, 355;\n      taxes on, 345;\n      tokens of wisdom, 338;\n      Turkish sultans', 339;\n      vowing not to cut or shave, 342, 347;\n      witches', 358;\n      women, bearded, 358.\n    Beast-fables, origin of, 239, 299.\n    Beaumont, bp. of Durham, 318.\n    Beauty unadorned, 46.\n    Beggar and Khoja, 68.\n    Bendall, Cecil, 159.\n    Beneficence, 24, 44, 48.\n    Berenger-Feraud, 278.\n    Berkeley's 'ideal' theory, 97.\n    Beryn, Tale of, 212, 306.\n    Bhartrihari, 258.\n    Bible, 191, 193, 205, 207, 229, 231, 239, 240, 249, 251,\n           254, 257, 261, 270, 323, 331, 332.\n    Bidpai's Fables, 39.\n    Birth, pride of, 22.\n    Bishop and ignorant priest, 316;\n      and the simple youth, 317.\n    'Bi'smi'llahi,' etc., 53.\n    Bi-sexual nature of Adam, 191.\n    Blemont, Emile, 274.\n    Blind man's wife, 62.\n    Blockheads, list of, 80.\n    Boccaccio's Decameron, 82, 217, 231.\n    Boethius' Consol. Phil., 131.\n    Bonaventure des Periers, 82, 323, 325.\n    Borde, Andrew, 356, 357.\n    Boy in terror at sea, 22.\n    Bride and Bridegroom, 250.\n    Bromyard, John, 305.\n    Broth, Hot, 69.\n    Buddha, Rom. Hist, of, 147.\n    Buddha's Dhammapada, 261.\n    Buddhaghosha's Parables, 163, 261.\n    Burns, the Scottish poet, 262, 263.\n    Butler's Hudibras, etc., 332, 345, 346.\n    Burton, Sir R. F., 38, 274.\n    Buthayna and Jamil, 294.\n    Buzurjmihr on silence, 38.\n\n    Cabinet des Fees, 144.\n    Cain and Abel, 194.\n    Camel and cat, 82.\n    Capon-carver, 231, 276.\n    Cardonne's Mel. de Litterature Orientale, 83.\n    Carlyle, Thos., 60, 263.\n    Cat and its master, 80.\n    Cauldron, the, 67.\n    Caution with friends, 46, 263.\n    Caxton's Dictes, 38;\n      Esop's Fables, 300, 308, 339.\n    Caylus, Comte de, 144.\n    Cento Novelle Antiche, 231.\n    Chamberlain, B. H., 312.\n    Chaste Wives, Value of, 127.\n    Chaucer, 196, 279, 339.\n    Chess, game of, 240.\n    Chinese Humour: rich man and smiths, 77;\n      to keep plants alive, 78;\n      criticising a portrait, 78.\n    Clergy, Benefit of, 329.\n    Clouston's Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 279;\n      Book of Noodles, 66, 111;\n      Book of Sindibad, 280;\n      Eastern Romances, 176, 268, 279;\n      Popular Tales and Fictions, 144, 157, 178, 279.\n    Coleridge, the poet, 229, 264.\n    Comparetti, Prof., 235.\n    Conceited man, 44.\n    Conde Lucanor, 81, 247.\n    Condolence, house of, 62.\n    Conjugal quarrels, 262.\n    Contes Orientaux, 144.\n    Cooks, too many, 262.\n    'Corpus meum,' 320.\n    Cotton's Virgil Travestie, 332.\n    Courtier and old friend, 79.\n    Coverley, Sir Roger de, 359.\n    Covetous man, 93;\n      goldsmith, 128, 160.\n    Covetousness, 45.\n    Crane's Italian Tales, 100, 235, 279.\n    Cup-bearer and Saadi, 28.\n    Cypress, 284.\n\n    Dabistan, 97, 99.\n    Daulat Shah, 294.\n    David, legends of King, 213.\n    Davidson, Thos., 299.\n    Deaf men, 73, 75.\n    Death, rest to the poor, 51.\n    Decameron, 82, 217.\n    Deluge, 225.\n    Demon, Tales of a, 124, 162, 179.\n    Dervish and magic candlestick, 141.\n    Dervish who became king, 32.\n    Dervishes, Three, 113.\n    Desolate Island, 243, 279.\n    Des Periers, Bonaventure, 82, 323, 325.\n    Devotee and learned man, 40.\n    Dictes, or the sayings of philosophers, 38.\n    Disciplina Clericalis, 99, 100, 227, 231, 241.\n    Domestics, lazy, 76.\n    Don Quixote, 11, 99.\n    Dreams of fair women, 133, 134.\n    Drinking the sea dry, 312.\n    Drunken governor, 68.\n    Dublin ballad-singer, 209.\n    Dutiful son, 236.\n\n    Eastern story-books, general plan of, 123.\n    Eberhard's ed. of Planudes' Life of Esop, 301.\n    Education, advantages of, 27.\n    Egg-stealer and Solomon, 218.\n    Eliezer in Sodom, 202.\n    Eliot, George, 45.\n    Ellis' Metrical Romances, 100.\n    Emperor's dream, 134.\n    Esop: unlucky omens, 108;\n      wise saying of, 264;\n      apocryphal Life, by Planudes, 301;\n      Jacobs on the Esopic Fable, 300;\n      the figs, 302;\n      how Esop became eloquent, 303;\n      his choice of load, 303;\n      offered for sale, 304;\n      boiling peas, 304;\n      the missing pig's foot, 305;\n      dish of tongues, 305;\n      the man who was no busy-body, 306;\n      drinking the sea dry, 306, 312;\n      the dog's tail, 306;\n      as ambassador, 307;\n      his death, 307;\n      Henryson's description of Esop, 309.\n    Etienne de Bourbon, 305.\n    Etienne, Henri, 316.\n    Eulenspiegel, Tyl, 306.\n    Expectation, 7.\n\n    Fabliaux, 96, 100, 327, 328.\n    Fables, origin of, 239, 300.\n    Facetiae, Jewish, 117.\n    Faggot-maker, 152.\n    Fairholt, F. W., 355.\n    Fairies' gifts, 153, 157, 181.\n    Fate, decrees of, 99.\n    Faults, 7, 44, 262.\n    Feraud, Berenger, 278.\n    Firdausi, 50, 284.\n    Fitnet Khanim, Turkish poetess, 17.\n    Flood, 225.\n    Flowers, hymn to the, 54.\n    Folk-Lore of S. India, 73.\n    Fool, greatest, 279.\n    Fools, list of, 80.\n    Foolish peasants, 111;\n      thieves, 151.\n    Forbidden tree, 268.\n    Forman, bp. of Moray, 319.\n    Fortitude and liberality, 24.\n    Fortune capricious, 45.\n    Forty, the number, 268.\n    Forty Vezirs, History of, 65, 110, 132.\n    Fox and Bear, 240, 278;\n      Fox in the garden, 241.\n    Friends: caution with, 46, 263;\n      man with three, 247;\n      misfortunes of, 23.\n    Fryer's Eng. Fairy Tales, 115.\n    Fuller's Church History, 322.\n    Furnivall, F. J., 357.\n\n    Garments, the, 248.\n    Garrick and Dr. Johnson, 52.\n    Gemara, authors of the, 186.\n    Generosity, 24, 44, 48.\n    Gerrans, 124, 126, 136.\n    Gesta Romanorum, 187, 196, 227, 231, 279, 306.\n    Gibb, E. J. W., 15, 110, 132, 283.\n    Gisli the Outlaw, 65.\n    Gladwin's Persian Moonshee, 71.\n    Goat, the dead, 71.\n    God, a jealous God, 264.\n    God, for the sake of, 9.\n    Good or evil genius, 140, 141.\n    'God, the merciful,' etc., 53.\n    Golden apparition, 136.\n    Goldsmith, the covetous, 128, 160.\n    Goliath's brother, 213.\n    Goose, Tales of a, 124.\n    Goose-thief, 218.\n    Gospels, two, for a groat, 320.\n    Governor and the Khoja, 68;\n      and the poor poet, 104;\n      and the shopkeeper, 116.\n    Gratitude for benefits, 262.\n    Great Name, 214.\n    Greek Popular Tales, 276.\n    Grey, Zachary, 332.\n    Grief and anger, times of, 260.\n    Grissell, Patient, 331.\n    Gulistan, or rose-garden, 9.\n\n    Hafiz, the Persian poet, 291.\n    Hagiolatry, 321, 327.\n    Hamsa Vinsati, 124.\n    Hariri, the Arabian poet, 208.\n    Harrison on beards, 350.\n    Hartland, E. Sidney, 181.\n    Hatim Tai, 24.\n    Hazar u Yek Ruz, 93.\n    Hebrew facetiae, 117.\n    Henryson, Robert, 309.\n    Heptameron, 82.\n    Herrick's Hesperides, 53.\n    Herodotus, Apology for, 316.\n    Herrtage, S. J., 196.\n    Hershon's Talmudic Miscel., 191.\n    Hesiod's fables, 239.\n    Hitopadesa, 140, 240.\n    Horse-dealers and the king, 81.\n    Hudibras, etc., 332, 345, 346.\n    Hundred Mery Talys, 70, 317, 320.\n    Hurwitz, Hyman, 117, 189, 218, 257.\n\n    'Idda: compulsory widowhood, 287.\n    Ideal, not the real, 97.\n    Idleness and industry, 41, 261.\n    Ignorance, 262.\n    Ill news, breaking, 95;\n      telling, 45.\n    Images, the stolen, 128.\n    Indian poetess, 25, 27, 44.\n    Inferiors and superiors, 260.\n    Ingratitude, 47.\n    Intolerance, religious, 188, 190.\n    Investment, safe, 228.\n    Irving, David, 309.\n    Isfahani and the governor, 116.\n    Ishmael's wives, 203.\n    Island, Desolate, 243, 279.\n    Israel likened to a bride, 250.\n    Italian Tales, 100, 115, 203, 231, 235, 279, 306.\n\n    Jacob's sorrow, 208.\n    Jacobs, Joseph, on the Esopic Fables, 300, 308.\n    Jami, 40, 48, 63, 109.\n    Jamil and Buthayna, 294.\n    'January and May,' 29.\n    Jehennan, 145.\n    Jehoshua, Rabbi, 205.\n    Jehudah, Rabbi, 186.\n    Jests, antiquity of, 60.\n    Jewels, the, 229;\n      luminous, 196.\n    Jewish facetiae, 117\n    Jochonan, Rabbi, 186;\n      and the poor woman, 227.\n    Johnson and Garrick, 52.\n    Johnson, Dr., on springtide, 14.\n    Jones, Sir William, 15.\n    Joseph and Potiphar's wife, 205;\n      and his brethren, 206.\n    Josephus on Solomon's fables, 239.\n    Jotham's fable, 239.\n    Julien, Stanislas, 77.\n\n    Kadiri's Tuti Nama, 124.\n    Kah-gyur, 159.\n    Kalila wa Dimna, 39.\n    Kalidasa, 284.\n    Kama Sutra, 126.\n    Kamarupa, 133.\n    Kashifi, 38.\n    Kashmiri Folk-Tales, 111, 118.\n    Katha Manjari, 71, 100, 175.\n    Katha Sarit Sagara, 157, 163, 179.\n    Khalif and poet, 101, 105.\n    Khizar and the Water of Life, 177.\n    Khoja Nasr-ed-Din, 65, 70.\n    King and his Four Ministers, 176;\n      and the horse-dealers, 81;\n      and the Seven Vazirs, 173;\n      and the story-teller, 99, 100;\n      who died of love, 161.\n    Knowles, J. H., 111, 118.\n    Kuran, 65.\n\n    Ladies, witty Persian, 63.\n    Laing, David, 309.\n    La Fontaine, 278.\n    Landsberger on Fables, 239.\n    Langles (_not_ Lescallier), 93.\n    La Rochefoucauld, 23.\n    Lapplaendische Maerchen, 181.\n    Laughter, 59, 60.\n    Layla and Majnun, 283.\n    Lazy servants, 76.\n    Learned man and blockhead, 49;\n      youth, modesty of, 27.\n    Learning the best treasure, 27;\n      and virtue, 47.\n    Le Grand's Fabliaux, 96, 327, 328.\n    Legrand's Popular Greek Tales, 276.\n    Lescallier, 173--_see_ also Langles.\n    Liars, 261.\n    Liber de Donis, 305.\n    Liberality to the poor, 24, 44, 48,\n    Liberality and fortitude, 24.\n    Life, Tree of, 174;\n      Water of, 174, 177.\n    Lions, tail of the, 263.\n    Liwa'i, Persian poet, 95.\n    Lokman, sayings of, 310.\n    Luminous Jewels, 196.\n    Love, dying for, 161, 163.\n    Lovers, Arabian, 283, 294.\n\n    Madden, Sir F., 196.\n    Magic Bowl, etc., 153, 157, 181.\n    Maiden and Saadi, 28.\n    Maimonides, 186.\n    Majnun and Layla, 273.\n    Makamat of El-Hariri, 208.\n    Malcolm's Sketches of Persia, 107, 116.\n    Man, a laughing animal, 59;\n      and his three friends, 247;\n      and the place, 262;\n      the mighty man, 261.\n    Manna, daily, 266.\n    Manuel, Don Juan, 81.\n    Marcus Aurelius, 49.\n    Mare kicked by a horse, 132.\n    Marelle, Charles, 192.\n    Marguerite, queen of Navarre, 82, 323.\n    Marie de France, 241.\n    Massinger's plays, 331.\n    Mazarin, Cardinal, 52.\n    Meir's (Rabbi) fables, 240.\n    Melanges de Litt. Orient., 83.\n    Merchant and lady, 87;\n      and poor Bedouin, 95.\n    Merchandise, 262.\n    Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres, 37, 71, 218, 321.\n    Mesihi's ode on spring, 15.\n    Metempsychosis, 179, 301.\n    Mihra-i Iskandar, 18.\n    Milton's Paradise Lost, 270.\n    Mind, the infant, 261.\n    Miser, 262.\n    Misers, Muslim, 71, 72.\n    Mishle Sandabar, 173.\n    Misfortunes of friends, 23.\n    Mishna, authors of the, 186.\n    Mole on the face, 291.\n    Money, in praise of, 125;\n      sound of two coins, 262.\n    Monsters, unheard of, 224.\n    Moon, a type of female beauty, 284.\n    Moses and Pharaoh, 208;\n      height of Moses, 225;\n      Moses and the Poor Woodcutter, 270.\n    Muezzin with harsh voice, 33.\n    Muhammedan legends, 195, 206, 209, 218, 219, 223, 268, 270.\n    Mukhlis of Isfahan, 135.\n    Music, discovery of, 163;\n      effects of, 7.\n    Musician, bad, 7.\n    Muslim confession of Faith, 53.\n\n    Nakhshabi, 46, 124, 260.\n    Name, the Great, 214.\n    Nasr-ed-Din, Khoja, 65.\n    Natesa Sastri, 73.\n    Nathan of Babylon, 260.\n    'Neck-verse,' 331.\n    Neighbour, objectionable, 37.\n    'Night and Day,' 61.\n    Nightingale and Ant, 41;\n      and Rose, 42.\n    Nimrod and Abraham, 253.\n    Noah, 194, 196, 225, 270.\n    Noble's Orientalist, 141.\n    'No rule without exception,' 119.\n    Numerals, Arabic, 240.\n    Nushirvan the Just, 21, 37.\n    Nye, Philip, 346.\n\n    Og, king of Bashan, 225, 226.\n    Old man and young wife, 29.\n    Old man's prayer, 109;\n      reason for not marrying, 31.\n    Old woman in mosque, 109.\n    Omens, unlucky, 107, 108.\n    Opportunity, 263.\n    Oriental story-books, general plan of, 123.\n    Orientalist, or Letters of a Rabbi, 141.\n    Origin, all things return to their, 131.\n    Ouseley, Sir Gore, 6, 52.\n\n    Painter and critics, 78.\n    Panchatantra, 49, 129, 140, 146, 147, 159, 240.\n    Panjabi Legends, 179.\n    Paradise, persons translated to, 209.\n    Parents, reverence for, 236.\n    Parrot and maina, 178;\n      oilman's parrot, 114;\n      Moghul's parrot, 116.\n    Parrot-Book, 124;\n      frame-story of, 125, 178.\n    Parrot, Seventy Tales of a, 124.\n    Parrots in Hindu fictions, 179.\n    Passion-service, 323, 326.\n    Pasquil's Jests, 81, 330.\n    Patient Grissell, 331.\n    'Paveant illi,' etc., 319.\n    Payne's Arabian Nights, 274.\n    Peasant in Paradise, 327.\n    Peasants, Foolish, 111.\n    Persian and his cat, 80;\n      and the governor, 116;\n      courtier and old friend, 79;\n      ladies, witty, 63;\n      Moonshee, 71;\n      poet and the impostor, 106;\n      Tales of a Thousand and one Days, 93, 135.\n    Petis de la Croix, 93.\n    Petronius Arbiter, 307.\n    Phaedrus, 300.\n    Pharaoh and Moses, 208.\n    Pharaoh's daughters, 209.\n    Pirke Aboth, 260.\n    Plants, to keep alive, 78.\n    Planudes' Life of Esop, 108, 301.\n    Poets in praise of springtide, 14.\n    Poet, rich man and, 107.\n    Poet's meaning, 104.\n    Poetry, 'stealing,' 106.\n    Poets, royal gifts to, 101, 104, 105.\n    Poverty, 263.\n    Prayers, odd, 71, 109.\n    Preachers, Muslim, 34, 66, 70, 71.\n    Precept and Practice, 47, 263.\n    Prefaces to books, 11.\n    Priest confessing poor man, 325.\n    Pride, 261.\n    Princess of Rum and her son, 166.\n    Procrustes, bed of, 199.\n    Prodigality, 24.\n    Psalm-singing at gallows, 331.\n\n    Quevedo's Visions, 343.\n\n    Rabbi and the poor woman, 227;\n      and the emperor Trajan, 265;\n      and the cup of wine, 119.\n    Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales, 141;\n      Tibetan Tales, 159.\n    'Ram caught in a thicket,' 205.\n    Rasalu, Legend of Raja, 178.\n    Rats that ate iron, 129.\n    Richardson, Octavia, 317.\n    Rich, Barnaby, 350.\n    Riches, 44, 50, 261.\n    Rieu, Charles, 124.\n    Robber and the Khoja, 69.\n    Rogers, the poet, 359.\n    Rose and Nightingale, 42.\n    Ross, David, 278.\n    Rum, country of, 134.\n    Russian Folk-Tales, 141.\n\n    Saadi: sketch of his life, 3;\n      character of his writings, 6;\n      on a bad musician, 7;\n      his 'Gulistan,' 9;\n      prefaces to books, 11;\n      preface to the 'Gulistan,' 12;\n      the fair cup-bearer, 28;\n      assured of lasting fame, 55;\n      on money, 125.\n    Sacchetti, 231, 306.\n    Saint-worship, 321, 327.\n    Samradians, sect of the, 97.\n    Satan in form of a deer, 213.\n    Satiety and hunger, 45.\n    Sayce, A. H., 210.\n    Scarronides, 332.\n    Schoolmaster and wit, 79.\n    Scornfulness, 260.\n    Scott's 'Lay,' 331.\n    Scribe's excuse, 79.\n    Secrets, 48, 263.\n    Seneca on aphorisms, 259.\n    Senegambian Tales, 278.\n    Sermon, burlesque, 328.\n    Servant, wakeful, 112.\n    Servants, lazy, 76.\n    Seven stages of human life, 257.\n    Seven Vazirs, 173\n      _see also_ Sindibad, Book of.\n    Seven Wise Masters, 133, 173, 178, 307.\n    Shakspeare, 53, 163, 257, 342, 347, 349, 350.\n    Sheba, Queen of, 218.\n    Shelley's Queen Mab, 291.\n    Signing with x, 333.\n    Silence, on keeping, 38, 39, 45, 263.\n    Simonides, 40.\n    Sindibad, Book of, 123, 159, 173, 176, 178, 306.\n    Singing Ass, 149.\n    Sinhasana Dwatrinsati, 124.\n    Shopkeeper and governor, 116.\n    Sindban, 173.\n    'Skip over three leaves,' 322.\n    Slander, 44.\n    Slave, witty, 35.\n    Slippers, the unlucky, 83.\n    Smith, Horace, 53.\n    Smiths and rich man, 77.\n    Socrates, 300, 338.\n    Sodom, the citizens of, 198.\n    Solomon: advice to three men, 215;\n      the Queen of Sheba, 218;\n      the egg-stealer, 218;\n      his signet-ring, 220;\n      his lost fables, 239;\n      his precocious sagacity, 73;\n      his choice of wisdom, 249;\n      the serpent's prey, 274.\n    Son, dutiful, 236.\n    Sorrow, times of, 260.\n    Spectator, Addison's, 359.\n    Spenser, Edmund, 284.\n    Springtide, in praise of, 14.\n    Stingy merchant and poor Bedouin, 95.\n    Story-teller and the King, 100.\n    Stubbes on beards and barbers, 352.\n    Stupidity, 26.\n    Sufis, 51.\n    Suka Saptati, 124.\n    Sully and the courtiers, 341.\n    Summa Praedicantium, 305.\n    Superiors and inferiors, 260.\n    Swynnerton, Charles, 179.\n    Syntipas, 173.\n\n    Tales and Quicke Answeres, 37, 71, 218, 321.\n    Talkers, comprehensive, 45.\n    Talmud, authors of the, 185, 186;\n      traducers of the, 187;\n      teachings of the, 188.\n    Tantrakhyana, 159.\n    Taylor's Wit and Mirth, 330;\n      Superbiae Flagellum, 351.\n    Teaching and learning, 262.\n    Temple's Panjabi Legends, 179.\n    Thalebi and the Khalif, 105.\n    Thief, self-convicted, 218;\n      without opportunity, 263.\n    Thieves, Foolish, 151.\n    Thomson's Seasons, 46.\n    Three Dervishes, 113.\n    Throne, Tales of a, 124.\n    Tibetan Tales, 159.\n    Tongue, the key of wisdom, 46.\n    Tongues, dish of, 305.\n    'Tongues in Trees,' 53.\n    Trajan and the Rabbi, 265.\n    Treasure, concealed, 129.\n    Treasure-seekers, the Four, 144.\n    Tree of Life, 174, 177.\n    Trouveres, 327.\n    Turkish Jester: in the pulpit, 66;\n      the cauldron, 67;\n      the beggar, 68;\n      the drunken governor, 68;\n      the robber, 69;\n      the hot broth, 69.\n    Turkish poetess, 17.\n    Turkmans, weeping, 110.\n    Tuti Nama, 124;\n      frame story, 125, 178.\n    Tyl Eulenspiegel, 306.\n\n    Ugly wife, 61, 62.\n    Uncle Remus, 279.\n    Unicorn, 225.\n    Unlucky omens, 107, 108.\n    Unlucky slippers, 83.\n\n    Van Butchell, 348.\n    Vasayadatta, 133.\n    Vase, use thy, 263.\n    Vatsyayana's Kama Sutra, 126.\n    Vazirs, the Seven, 173.\n    Vetala Panchavinsati, 124, 162, 179.\n    Vicious hate the virtuous, 44.\n    Vine, planting of the, 196.\n    Virgil Travestie, 332.\n    Virtue cannot come out of vice, 50.\n    Visitors, troublesome, 40.\n    Von Hammer, 293.\n    Vrihat Katha, 158.\n\n    Wakeful servant, 112.\n    Wamik and Azra, 293.\n    Want: moderation, 7.\n    Warton's Hist. of Eng. Poetry, 163.\n    Water of Life, 174, 177.\n    Weil's Bible, Koran, and Talmud, 273.\n    Weeping Turkmans, 110.\n    Wheel on man's head, 146, 147.\n    Wicked rich man, 44.\n    Widowhood, compulsory, 287.\n    Wife, choosing a, 263.\n    Williams, Sir Monier, 259.\n    Will, Ingenious, 237.\n    Wisdom, who gains, 261.\n    Wise man in mean company, 49.\n    Witches' beards, 358.\n    Witty Baghdadi, 83;\n      Isfahani, 116;\n      Jewish boys, 117, 118;\n      Persian ladies, 63;\n      slave, 35.\n    Woman: carved out of wood, 130;\n      seven requisites of, 165.\n    Woman's counsel, 64, 65;\n      wiles, 87.\n    Women, bearded, 358.\n    Woodcutter and Moses, 270.\n    World of Wonders, 316.\n    Wright's Latin Stories, 76.\n\n    Young's Night Thoughts, 46.\n    Youth, modest and learned, 27.\n\n    Zemzem, 285.\n    Zotenberg, Hermann, 246.\n    Zozimus, the ballad-singer, 209.\n    Zulaykha, Potiphar's wife, 206.","title":"Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":99021}