In mid-June, ’85, I returned to London and began at once to prepare for issuing the book.  Having found the publisher peculiarly unsatisfactory—­with one single and remarkable exception my venerable friend, Mr. Van Voorst, whilome of Paternoster Row—­I determined, like Professor Arber, to do without him, although well aware how risky was the proceeding, which would, in the case of a work for general reading, have arrayed against me the majority of the trade and of their “hands,” the critics.  Then I sought hard, but sought in vain, for the agency of a literary friend or friends, men of name and note, like those who assisted in the Villon version:  all feared the responsibility and the expected storm of abuse which, however, failed to burst.

Under these circumstances “The Printing Times,” a professional periodical produced by Messieurs Wymans, was pleased (August 25, ’85) to be unpleasantly intrusive on the subject of my plan.  “We always heard associated with the publication of this important work, the name of Mr.——­, which is now conspicuous by its absence, nor is, apparently the name of any other leading publishing house to be identified with its production” (The Printer’s Devil is, I presume, responsible for the English!) The writer then warns me in all (un-)friendliness that if the printers forget to add their imprint, they would become liable to a legal penalty; that the work is unsafe for literal translation and, lastly that although printed by private subscription, “It is likely enough to be pronounced an injury to public morals to the danger of the author and his printers.”  The unhappy article concludes, “We await the issue of the first volume since much will depend upon the spirit(!) in which the translation has been undertaken; certainly the original text is not suitable for general circulation (connu!) unless edited with the utmost care and discretion.”

To this production so manifestly inspired by our old friend œs. d., I replied in The Aademy (August 7, ’85), the gist of the few lines being as follows:—­

In answer to many inquiries from friends and others, will you allow me to repeat through your columns, that my translation of the “Arabian Nights” will be strictly limited to 1,000 copies, each sent to picked subscribers, and to renew the promise which I before made, that no cheaper edition shall be printed?  Correspondents have complained that I have not stated the price; but I have mentioned over and over again that there are ten volumes, at one guinea each—­my object in making it so expensive being to keep it from the general public.  I am also troubled with inquiries as to who is my publisher I am my own publisher, inaugurating (Inshallah!) a golden age for authors.  Jesting apart the book has no publisher.  It is printed by myself for the benefit of Orientalists and Anthropologists, and nothing could be more repugnant to me than the idea of a book of the kind being published or being put into the hands of any publisher.