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THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT - COMPLETE
THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT - COMPLETE GEORGE MEREDITH AN ARABIAN ENTERTAINMENT
1898/1909
CONTENTS:
THE THWACKINGS
THE STORY OF BHANAVAR THE BEAUTIFUL
THE BETROTHAL
PUNISHMENT OF SHAHPESH THE PERSIAN ON KHIPIL THE BUILDER
THE GENIE KARAZ
THE WELL OF PARAVID
THE HORSE GARRAVEEN
THE TALKING HAWK
GOORELKA OF OOLB
THE LILY OF THE ENCHANTED SEA
STORY OF NOORNA BIN NOORKA THE GENIE KARAZ AND THE PRINCESS OF OOLB
THE WILES OF RABESQURAT
THE PALACE OF AKLIS
THE SONS OF AKLIS
THE SWORD OF AKLIS
KOOROOKH
THE VEILED FIGURE
THE BOSOM OF NOORNA
THE REVIVAL
THE PLOT
THE DISH OF POMEGRANATE GRAIN
THE BURNING OF THE IDENTICAL
THE FLASHES OF THE BLADE
CONCLUSION
THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT
BOOK I.
THE THWACKINGS
THE STORY OF BHANAVAR THE BEAUTIFUL
THE THWACKINGS
It was ordained that Shibli Bagarag nephew to the renowned Baba
Mustapha chief barber to the Court of Persia should shave Shagpat the
son of Shimpoor the son of Shoolpi the son of Shullum; and they had
been clothiers for generations even to the time of Shagpat the
illustrious.
Now the story of Shibli Bagarag and of the ball he followed and of the
subterranean kingdom he came to and of the enchanted palace he entered
and of the sleeping king he shaved and of the two princesses he
released and of the Afrite held in subjection by the arts of one and
bottled by her is it not known as 'twere written on the finger-nails of
men and traced in their corner-robes? As the poet says:
Ripe with oft telling and old is the tale
But 'tis of the sort that can never grow stale.
Now things were in that condition with Shibli Bagarag that on a certain
day he was hungry and abject and the city of Shagpat the clothier was
before him; so he made toward it deliberating as to how he should
procure a meal for he had not a dirhem in his girdle and the
remembrance of great dishes and savoury ingredients were to him as the
illusion of rivers sheening on the sands to travellers gasping with
thirst.
And he considered his case crying 'Surely this comes of wandering and
'tis the curse of the inquiring spirit! for in Shiraz where my craft is
in favour I should be sitting now with my uncle Baba Mustapha the
loquacious one cross-legged partaking of seasoned sweet dishes dipping
my fingers in them rejoicing my soul with scandal of the Court!'
Now he came to a knoll of sand under a palm from which the yellow domes
and mosques of the city of Shagpat and its black cypresses and marble
palace fronts and shining pillars and lofty carven arches that spanned
half-circles of the hot grey sky were plainly visible. Then gazed he
awhile despondingly on the city of Shagpat and groaned in contemplation
of his evil plight as is said by the poet:
The curse of sorrow is comparison!
As the sun casteth shade night showeth star
We measuring what we were by what we are
Behold the depth to which we are undone.
Wherefore he counselleth:
Look neither too much up nor down at all
But forward stepping strive no more to fall.
And the advice is excellent; but as is again said:
The preacher preacheth and the hearer heareth
But comfort first each function requireth.
And 'wisdom to a hungry stomach is thin pottage' saith the shrewd reader
of men. Little comfort was there with Shibli Bagarag as he looked on
the city of Shagpat the clothier! He cried aloud that his evil chance
had got the better of him and rolled his body in the sand beating his
breast and conjuring up images of the profusion of dainties and the
abundance of provision in Shiraz exclaiming 'Well-a-way and woe's me!
this it is to be selected for the diversion of him that plotteth against
man.' Truly is it written:
On different heads misfortunes come:
One bears them firm another faints
While this one hangs them like a drum
Whereon to batter loud complaints.
And of the three kinds they who bang the drum outnumber the silent ones
as do the billows of the sea the ships that swim or the grains of sand
the trees that grow; a noisy multitude.
Now he was in the pits of despondency even as one that yieldeth without
further struggle to the waves of tempest at midnight when he was ware of
one standing over him--a woman old wrinkled a very crone with but
room for the drawing of a thread between her nose and her chin; she was
as is cited of them who betray the doings of Time
Wrinkled at the rind and overripe at the core
and every part of her nodded and shook like a tree sapped by the waters
and her joints were sharp as the hind-legs of a grasshopper; she was
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