The Shaving of Shagpat George Meredith (best memoirs of all time txt) 📖

possessed him, and became a passion, so that he could scarce refrain from rubbing it even in the King’s presence. And the King encouraged him to sniff and enjoy their fragrance, repeating the poet’s words:

“Methinks I am a lover and a child,
A little child and happy lover, both!
When by the breath of flowers I am beguiled
From sense of pain, and lulled in odorous sloth.
So I adore them, that no mistress sweet
Seems worthier of the love which they awake:
In innocence and beauty more complete,
Was never maiden cheek in morning lake.
Oh, while I live, surround me with fresh flowers!
Oh, when I die, then bury me in their bowers!”

And the King said, “What sayest thou, O my builder? that is a fair quotation, applicable to thy feelings, one that expresseth them?”

Khipil answered, “ ’Tis eloquent, O great King! comprehensiveness would be its portion, but that it alludeth not to the delight of chafing.”

Then Shahpesh laughed, and cried, “Chafe not! it is an ill thing and a hideous! This nosegay, O Khipil, it is for thee to present to thy mistress. Truly she will receive thee well after its presentation! I will have it now sent in thy name, with word that thou followest quickly. And for thy nettled nose, surely if the whim seize thee that thou desirest its chafing, to thy neighbour is permitted what to thy hand is refused.”

The King set a guard upon Khipil to see that his orders were executed, and appointed a time for him to return to the gardens.

At the hour indicated Khipil stood before Shahpesh again. He was pale, saddened; his tongue drooped like the tongue of a heavy bell, that when it soundeth giveth forth mournful sounds only: he had also the look of one battered with many beatings. So the King said, “How of the presentation of the flowers of thy culture, O Khipil?”

He answered, “Surely, O King, she received me with wrath, and I am shamed by her.”

And the King said, “How of my clemency in the matter of the chafing?”

Khipil answered, “O King of splendours! I made petition to my neighbours whom I met, accosting them civilly and with imploring, for I ached to chafe, and it was the very raging thirst of desire to chafe that was mine, devouring eagerness for solace of chafing. And they chafed me, O King; yet not in those parts which throbbed for the chafing, but in those which abhorred it.”

Then Shahpesh smiled and said, “ ’Tis certain that the magnanimity of monarchs is as the rain that falleth, the sun that shineth: and in this spot it fertilizeth richness; in that encourageth rankness. So art thou but a weed, O Khipil! and my grace is thy chastisement.”

Now, the King ceased not persecuting Khipil, under pretence of doing him honour and heaping favours on him. Three days and three nights was Khipil gasping without water, compelled to drink of the drought of the fountain, as an honour at the hands of the King. And he was seven days and seven nights made to stand with stretched arms, as they were the branches of a tree, in each hand a pomegranate. And Shahpesh brought the people of his court to regard the wondrous pomegranate shoot planted by Khipil, very wondrous, and a new sort, worthy the gardens of a King. So the wisdom of the King was applauded, and men wotted he knew how to punish offences in coin, by the punishment inflicted on Khipil the builder. Before that time his affairs had languished, and the currents of business instead of flowing had become stagnant pools. It was the fashion to do as did Khipil, and fancy the tongue a constructor rather than a commentator; and there is a doom upon that people and that man which runneth to seed in gabble, as the poet says in his wisdom:

“If thou wouldst be famous, and rich in splendid fruits,
Leave to bloom the flower of things, and dig among the roots.”

Truly after Khipil’s punishment there were few in the dominions of Shahpesh who sought to win the honours bestowed by him on gabblers and idlers: as again the poet:

“When to loquacious fools with patience rare
I listen, I have thoughts of Khipil’s chair:
His bath, his nosegay, and his fount I see⁠—
Himself stretch’d out as a pomegranate-tree.
And that I am not Shahpesh I regret,
So to inmesh the babbler in his net.
Well is that wisdom worthy to be sung,
Which raised the Palace of the Wagging Tongue!”

And whoso is punished after the fashion of Shahpesh, the Persian, on Khipil, the Builder, is said to be one “in the Palace of the Wagging Tongue” to this time.

The Genie Karaz

Now, when the voice of the Vizier had ceased, Shibli Bagarag exclaimed, “O Vizier, this night, no later, I’ll surprise Shagpat, and shave him while he sleepeth: and he shall wake shorn beside his spouse. Wullahy! I’ll delay no longer, I, Shibli Bagarag.”

Said the Vizier, “Thou?”

And he replied, “Surely, O Vizier! thou knowest little of my dexterity.”

So the Vizier laughed, and Noorna bin Noorka laughed, and he was at a loss to interpret the cause of their laughter. Then said Noorna, “O my betrothed, there’s not a doubt among us of thy dexterity, nor question of thy willingness; but this shaving of Shagpat, wullahy! ’tis longer work than what thou makest of it.”

And he cried, “How? because of the Chief of Identicals planted by thee in his head?”

She answered, “Because of that; but ’tis the smallest opposer, that.”

Then the Vizier said, “Let us consult.”

So Shibli Bagarag gave ear, and the Vizier continued, “There’s first, the Chief of Identicals planted by thee in the head of that presumptuous fellow, O my daughter! By what means shall that be overcome?”

She said, “I rank not that first, O Feshnavat, my father; surely I rank first the illusions with which Rabesqurat hath surrounded him, and made it difficult to know him from his semblances, whenever