morale that at times we descry through the voluptuous and libertine picture “vistas of a transcendental morality—­the morality of Socrates in Plato.”  In no other work of the same nature is Eastern life so vividly portrayed.  We see the Arab Knight, his prowess and his passion for adventure, his love and his revenge, the craft of his wives, and the hypocrisy of his priests, as plainly as if we had lived among them.  Gilded palaces, charming women, lovely gardens, caves full of jewels, and exquisite repasts, captivate the senses and give variety to the panorama which is passing before our eyes.  Yet we repeat that, though there is much in the excellent version now begun which is very plain speaking, there is nothing intentionally demoralising.  Evidently, however the translator is prepared to hear this charge brought against his labour of love.  Indeed, there is a tinge of melancholy pervading the preface in which the Editor refers to his “unsuccessful professional life,” and to the knowledge of which his country has cared so little to avail itself. * * * * * Even in the recent Egyptian troubles—­which are referred to somewhat bitterly—­ his wisdom was not utilised, though, after the death of Major Morice, there was not an English official in the camps before Suakin capable of speaking Arabic.  On this scandal, and on the ignorance of Oriental customs which was everywhere displayed, Captain Burton is deservedly severe.  The issue of the ten volumes now in the press, accompanied by notes so full of learning as those with which they are illuminated, will surely give the nation an opportunity for wiping away the reproach of that neglect which Captain Burton seems to feel more keenly than he cares to express.

This was a sop to the friend and a sore blow dealt to the enemy.  Moreover it was speedily followed up by another as swashing and trenchant in the Morning Advertiser (September 15, ’85), of which long extracts are presently quoted.  The journal was ever friendly to me during the long reign of Mr. James Grant, and became especially so when the editorial chair was so worthily filled by my old familiar of Oxford days, the late Alfred Bate Richards, a man who made the “Organ of the Licensed Victuallers” a power in the state and was warmly thanked for his good services by that model conservative, Lord Beaconsfield.

A phrase in the Standard, the “most archaic of the passages,” acted upon

The “Pall Mall Gazette”

like a red rag upon a rageous bull.  I should rather say that it excited the so-called “Sexual I Journal” by suggesting another opportunity for its unclean sensationalism:  perhaps also the staff hoped to provide company and a fellow-sufferer for their editor, who was then in durance vile, his of fences being “inciting to an indecent assault” and an act of criminal immorality.  I should not have felt called upon to remind my readers of a scandal half forgotten in England, while still held in lively remembrance by the jealous European world, had not the persistent fabrications, calumnies, and slanders of the Pall Mall, which continue to this day, compelled me to move in self-defence, and to explain the mean under lying motives.