OF DIVULGING THE SECRET
SOMETIMES it happens in Love that the secret is divulged. This is one of the most deplorable accidents that can befall a romance: its causes are various. It may be that a man resorts to this action merely because he is ambitious to dress himself up in the lover's guise, and so be enrolled in their ranks. This is a contemptible deceit, a disgusting effrontery, a most counter feit pretence to love.
Disclosure is sometimes due to loves overpowering mastery; publicity prevails over modesty. In such a case a man is quite unable to control himself or regulate his actions. This is one of the furthest extremes which passionate love can reach; it then so strictly dominates the reason, that the mind represents beauty in the shape of ugliness, and ugliness in the form of beauty good is thought to be evil, and evil good. How many a man of the severest respectability, veiled as it were in the closest veil and shrouded in the most impenetrable curtains, has seen his robe of modesty ripped off by love, his heart's shrine violated, his holy of holies desecrated, so that his respectability has been turned into notoriety, his quiet retirement changed so that he is a public laughing-stock! To be a scandal is then his fondest ambition; he will commit actions which, if they had been so much as pictured to him hitherto, he would have shivered all over at their very mention, and prayed long and earnestly to be delivered from them. What was formerly hard has now become smooth, what was once most grave now seems to him of no account, what was difficult suddenly proves easy.
I once knew a youth, the scion of a noble house and one of my most aristocratic friends, who was smitten with love for a cloistered girl. He became quite crazy for her, and his love of her cut him off from many of his most virtuous pursuits; the signs of his infatuation were evident to all having eyes to see. In the end she felt constrained to chide him for the manifest follies into which passion was leading him.
Musa Ibn 'Asim Ibn `Amr told me the following story. " I was once with my father Abu 'l-Path (God have mercy upon him!), writing a letter for him at his behest. Suddenly my eyes caught a glimpse of a slave girl with whom I was infatuated; unable to master myself, I threw the letter away and started after her. My father was dumbstruck, and thought that something serious had happened to me. Then my reason returned to me; wiping my face, I came back and begged pardon, saying that I had been overcome by a haemorrhage of the nose! "
You should know that this kind of behaviour is enough to scare the beloved away; it is a poor way of managing things, and betrays incompetent statesmanship. In every enterprise there is a proper way to begin, and an appropriate course to follow after; the venturer who transgresses the norm or strays from the right path brings all his labours back on his own head; his toil is to no purpose, his weariness is in vain, his searching's are superfluous. The more he swerves from the straight course, the futher he deviates from it and perseveres along the wrong turning, the more remote will he become from the object of his quest. I have a piece of poetry on this, from which I will venture to quote.
Confront them not too jestingly,
Nor, when upon an easy quest,
Let all thy effort be expressed.
Time has a wide variety
Of knavish tricks, and Destiny
A thousand oscillating moods
And infinite vicissitudes.
However Fate may play his game,
Adjust thy style to suit the same;
Against a little little strive,
Match much with much, to keep alive
Hast thou not seen, and learned by it,
How, when a: lamp is freshly lit,
The flame burns feebly, and one puff
To put it out is quite enough?
But when the wick is well alight
And blazing broadly through the night,
To puff and puff will only go
To fan it into fiercer glow.
I was once acquainted with a man of Cordova, the son of one of the principal clerks in the civil service his name was Ahmad Ibn Fath-and I had always known him as most circumspect, a keen student of science and letters; in reserve he excelled all his companions, in quiet dignity he was supreme. He was never to be seen anywhere but in the most virtuous circles, and the parties he attended were always strictly respectable; in short; his behaviour was most praiseworthy, his conduct beyond reproach; he went his own way, and kept himself to himself. Then the fates decreed that we should be far sundered. The first news that came to me, after I had taken up residence in Jativa, was that he had cast off all restraint on falling in love with a certain goldsmith's son called Ibrahim Ibn Ahmad. I knew this young man, well enough to be aware that his qualities did not merit his being loved by a person of a good family, in a prominent position, and possessed of broad estates and an ample patrimony. Then I had it confirmed that my friend had uncovered his head, shown his face abroad, cast off his head-rope, bared his countenance, rolled up his sleeves-in a word, that he had given himself over to the lusts of the flesh. He had become the talk of the town; all tongues wagged of his adventure; his name was banded through' the countryside, and the scandalmongers ran everywhere with tales of his amazing escapade. All that he had achieved was that the veil of his private feelings had been stripped off, his secret had been divulged, his name besmirched, his reputation blackened; the object of his passion had run away from him altogether, and forbidden him ever to see him again. Yet he might well have spared himself these troubles; he could easily have escaped, and kept far away from it all. If indeed he had only concealed his deep secret and hidden his heart's afflictions, he might have continued to wear the robe of well-being, and the garment of his respectability would never have become threadbare; he could still have nourished his hopes, and found ample consolation in meeting and conversing and sitting with the one for whom he was so badly smitten. But alas, the cord of his excuses was snapped; the evidence against him was overwhelming, and the only argument that might be urged in his favour was that his judgment was deranged, his reason affected by his shattering experience. That would certainly have been a valid excuse. But if only a fraction of his understanding remained intact, if the merest fragment of his mind was still unimpaired, then he was gravely at fault in acting in a manner which he was well aware would grievously affront and distress his well-beloved. That is not how true lovers behave, as we shall explain fully in the chapter on Compliance, God willing.
There remains yet a third reason for disclosing the secret: this is condemned by all right-minded men as a despicable motive and a base manner of conduct. The lover sees that his beloved has betrayed him, or grown tired of him, or dislikes him; and the only way he can find to get even with him is to disclose everything and make the affair notorious-a shift which indeed harms him far more than the person he seeks to injure. This is a most shocking disgrace and a most foul shame; it is the strongest possible proof that the one so behaving is entirely bereft of reason, and no more in his right mind.
Sometimes disclosure occurs as the result of gossip and rumours to which the lover pays insufficient heed; he is quite content for his secret to be discovered, either out of conceit, or because he thinks in that way to attain some part of his ambition. I actually saw this trick done by a friend of mine, a general's son.
I have read in some Bedouin tale that their womenfolk do not feel satisfied and convinced that a man is really in love with them, until his romantic feelings become public-knowledge and are completely divulged; he must advertise and broadcast his attachment, and sing their praises for all to hear. I know not what to make of that, considering they have such a reputation for chastity: what chastity does a woman in fact possess, if her greatest desire and joy is to be notorious after this fashion?
OF COMPLIANCE
ONE of the wonderful things that occur in Love is the way the lover submits to the beloved, and adjusts his own character by main force to that of his loved one. Often and often you will see a man stubborn by disposition, intractable, jibbing at all control, determined, arrogant, always ready to take umbrage; yet no sooner let him sniff the soft air of love, plunge into its waves, and swim in its sea, than his stubbornness will have suddenly changed to docility, his intractability' to gentleness, his determination to easy-going, his arrogance to submission. I have some verses on this.
To come once more to thee,
Or will there be an end
Of changeful destiny?
The sword (O strange to tell!)
Is now the baton's page,
The captive, tame gazelle
A lion full of rage
These verses tell the same story.
Am the cheapest man to die,
Slipping swiftly like false gold
Through the tester's fingers rolled.
Yet what joy it is for me
To be slain for loving thee!
Marvel, then, at one who dies
Smiling pleasure from his eyes.
I have still another trifle on this topic.
Viewed by critics Persian,
Little would they reck of their
Mobedh and their Hormosan!
Sometimes the beloved is unsympathetic to the manifesting of complaints, and is too impatient to listen to tales of suffering. In those circumstances you will see the lover concealing his grief, suppressing his despair, and hiding his sickness. The beloved heaps unjust accusations on his head; and he is full of apologies for every fault he is supposed to have committed, and confesses crimes of which he is wholly innocent, simply to submit to what his loved one says and to avoid resisting the charges. I know a man who was afflicted in just this way; his beloved was continually leveling accusations against him, though he was entirely blameless; he was evermore being reproached and scolded, yet he was as pure as driven snow. Let me quote here some verses which I addressed- once to one of my comrades; though they do not exactly fit this context, still they come very near to the topic under' discussion.
Delighted at my near approach,
And if I turned from thee awhile
Thy features registered reproach.
My nature is not so averse
To listen to a little blame
White hairs are ugly, but no worse,
Yet they are always called a shame.
A man, when looking in the glass,
May think himself uncommon plain;
But moles and spots for beauty pass,
And do not need to give such pain.
They are an ornament, when few,
And only count for ugliness
When they exceed a measure due
And who has ever praised excess?
A little later in the same poem I have the following verse.
By so great cares his soul is gripped
That lo, he moves to tears the pen,
The ink, the paper, and the script!
Let no man say that the patience displayed by the lover when the beloved humiliates him is a sign of pusillanimity: that would be a grave error. We know that the beloved is not to be regarded as a match or an equal to the lover, that the injury inflicted by him on the lover should be repaid in kind. The beloved's 'insults and affronts are not such as a man need regard as dishonoring him; the memory of them is not preserved down the ages; neither do they occur in the Courts of Caliphs and the salons of the great, where endurance of an insult would imply humiliation, and submission would lead to utter contempt.
Sometimes you will see a man infatuated with his slave-girl, his own legal property, and there is nothing to prevent him from having his way with her if he so desires; what point would there be then in his revenging himself on her? No; the real grounds for being angered by insults are entirely different; anger is fully justified when the insults are offered as between men of high rank, whose every breath is studied, whose every word is examined closely for its meaning, and given a most profound significance. For such men do not utter words at random, or let fall remarks negligently; but as for the beloved, she is at one time an unbending lance, at another a pliant twig, now cruel, now complaisant, just as the mood takes her and for no valid reason. On this theme I can quote an apposite poem of mine.
A meek servility in love
For Love the proudest men abase
Themselves, and feel it no disgrace.
Then do not marvel so at me
And my profound humility;
Ere I was overthrown, this state
Proud Caliphs did humiliate.
No peer is the beloved one,
No parfit knight, no champion,
That it should shame to thee procure,
Her hateful insults to endure:
An apple falling from the tree
Struck and a trifle injured thee
Would it be triumph worth thy pain
To cut the apple into twain?
Abu Dulaf the stationer told me the following story, which he heard from the philosopher Maslama Ibn Ahmad, better known as al-Majriti. In the mosque which lies to the east of the Quraish cemetery in Cordova, opposite the house of the vizier Abu `Umar Ahmad In' Muhammad Ibn Hudair (God have mercy upon him!)-in this mosque Muqaddam Ibn al-Asfar was always to be seen hanging about during his salad days, because of a romantic attachment which he had formed for 'Ajib, the page-boy of the afore-mentioned Abu `Umar. He gave up attending prayers at the Masrur mosque (near where he lived), and came to this mosque night and day on account of 'Ajib. He was arrested more than once by the guard at night, when he was departing from the mosque after praying the second evening prayer; he had done nothing but' sit and stare at the page-boy until the latter, angry and infuriated, went up to him and struck him some hard blows, slapping his cheeks and punching him in the eye. Yet the young man was delighted at this and exclaimed, " By Allah! This is what I have dreamed of; now I am happy." Then he would walk alongside of 'Ajib for some minutes. Abu Dulaf added that he had been, told this story by Maslama several times in the presence of 'Ajib himself, when observing the high position, influence and prosperity to which Muqaddam Ibn al-Asfar had attained; the latter had indeed become most powerful; he was on extremely intimate terms with al-Muzaffar Ibn Abi `Amin, and enjoyed friendly relations with al-Muzaffar's mother and family; he built a number of mosques and drinking-fountains, and established not a few charitable foundations; besides all which he busied himself with all the various kinds of benevolent and other activities, with which men in authority like to concern themselves.
Here is an even more outrageous example. Sa'id Ibn Mundhir Ibn Sa'id, who used to lead the prayers in the cathedral mosque of Cordova during the days of al-Hakam al-Mustansir Billah (God be merciful to his soul Q, had a slave-girl with whom he was deeply in love. He, offered to manumit and marry her, to which she scornfully replied-and I should mention that he had a fine long beard-" I think your beard is dreadfully long; trim it up, and then you shall have your wish." He thereupon laid a pair of scissors to his beard, until it looked somewhat more gallant; then he summoned witnesses, and invited them to testify that he had set the girl free. But when in due course he proposed to her, she would not accept him. Among those present was his brother Hakam Ibn Mundhir, who promptly said to the assembled company, " Now I am going to propose marriage to her." He did so, and she consented; and he married her then and there. Sa'id acquiesced in this frightful insult; for all that he was a man known for his abstinence, piety and religious zeal. I myself met this same Sa'id; he was slain by the Berbers, on the day when they stormed and sacked Cordova. His brother Hakam was the head of the Mu'tazilites of Andalusia, their leader, professor and chief schoolman, as well as the most famous among them for his piety; at the same time he was a poet, a physician and a lawyer. His brother `Abd al-Malik Ibn Mundhir was also suspected of belonging to the same sect; in the days of al-Hakam (God be well pleased with him!) he was in charge of the Office for the Defence of the Oppressed, but was crucified by al-Mansur Ibn Abi 'Amir on the charge, preferred against him, and a whole group of Cordovan lawyers and judges, of secretly swearing allegiance to `Abd al-Rahman Ibn `Ubaid Allah, grandson of Caliph al-Nasir (God be well pleased with them!) as lawful Caliph. `Abd a1-Rahman himself was executed, `Abd al-Malik Ibn Mundhir was crucified, and the entire faction accused of the conspiracy were liquidated. The father of these three brothers, the Lord Chief Justice Mundhir Ibn Sa'id, came under the same suspicion of holding Mu'tazilite opinions; he was a most eloquent preacher, profoundly learned in every branch of knowledge, of the utmost piety, and withal the wittiest and most amusing of men. The son Hakam aforementioned is still living at the time of writing this epistle; he is now very advanced in years, and quite blind.
A wonderful example of how the lover will submit to the beloved is provided by a man I knew who lay awake for many nights, endured extreme suffering, and had his heart tom asunder by the deepest emotions, until he finally overcame his, beloved's resistance, who thereafter refused him nothing and could no more resist his advances. Yet when the lover observed that the beloved felt a certain antipathy towards his intentions he forthwith discontinued relations, not out of chastity or fear but solely in order to accord with the beloved's wishes. For all the intensity of his feelings, he could not bring himself to do anything for which he had seen the beloved had no enthusiasm. I know another man who acted in the same way, and then repented on discovering that his beloved had betrayed; him. I have put this situation into verse.
As it opens up to thee;
Opportunities depart
Swiftly as the lightnings dart.
Ah, the many things that I
Might; have done, but let slip by,
And the intervening years
Brought me naught but bitter tears.
Whatsoever treasure thou
Findest, pounce upon it now
Wait no instant: swoop to day
Like a falcon on thy prey.
This very same thing happened to Abu 'l-Muzaffar `Abd al-Rahman Ibn Ahmad Ibn Mahmud, our good friend: I quoted to him some verses of mine which he leapt upon with the greatest joy and carried off with him, to be his guiding star ever after.
When I was living in the old city at Cordova I one day met Abu `Abd Allah Muhammad Ibn Kulaib of Kairouan, a man with an exceedingly long tongue, well sharpened to enquire on every manner of subject. The topic of Love and its various aspects was under discussion, and he put the following question to me " If a person with whom I am in love is averse to meeting me, and avoids me whenever I try to make an approach, what should I do? " I replied, " My opinion is that you should endeavor to bring relief to your own soul by meeting the beloved, even if the beloved is averse to meeting you." He retorted, " I do not agree; I prefer that the beloved should have his will and desire, rather than I mine. I would endure and endure, even if it meant death for me." " I would only have fallen in love ", I countered, " for my personal satisfaction and aesthetic pleasure. I should therefore follow my own analogy, guide myself by my personal principles, and pursue my habitual path, seeking quite deliberately my own enjoyment." " That is a cruel logic ", he exclaimed. " Far worse than death is that for the sake of which you desire death, and far dearer than life is that for the sake of which you would gladly lay down your life." " But ", I said, " you would be laying down your life not by choice but under compulsion. If it were possible for you not to lay down your life, you would not have done so. To give up meeting the beloved voluntarily would certainly be most reprehensible, since you would thereby do violence to yourself and bring your own soul to its doom." Thereupon he cried out, "You are a born dialectician, and dialectics have no particular relevance to Love. "In that case", I said, " the lover will certainly be unfortunate." "And what misfortune is there he ended, " that is greater than Love?"
OF OPPOSITION
SOMETIMES the lover follows his own lust, and lets himself go completely. He is cured of his sickness at the hands of the beloved, and is resolved to have his pleasure of the other at all costs, whether the beloved be angry or consent. If the lover is assisted in this by circumstance, if his heart remains steadfast and the fates favour him, he will drain the cup of his joy to the last drop; his sorrows will depart, his cares will be at an end: he will see the fulfillment of his hopes, and attain all *his desire. I have myself seen lovers who comported themselves after this fashion: the following verses of mine describe the situation.
And slaked my soul's desire
Of some sweet fawn, who still
Consumed my heart with fire;
I reek not if she be
Reluctant to consent,
Nor care if she agree
But all malevolent.
Where'er the water may
Be found, I'll seize the same
And sprinkle with its spray
My tamarisk aflame.
OR THE REPROACHER
LOVE has its various misfortunes: of these the firs is the Reproacher.
Of reproachers there are divers kinds. The original sort is a friend, between whom and yourself the burden of cautiousness has been let drop: his reproach is better than many abettings. It consists of incitements and prohibitions; therein and thereby the soul is wonderfully stimulated and remarkably strengthened; its properties are at once purposeful and efficacious, and healing to those sore wounded by passionate desire. Especially is this the case if the friend is gentle in his speech, and skilled at matching his words to his intentions; if he is aware of the times when the negative should be emphasized, and the occasions on which it is better to concentrate on positive injunctions; and if he is apprised of the hours wherein both approaches ought to be combined; all according to the degree of tractability or obdurateness, response or rebellion which he observes in the lover.
The second type of reproacher is the thoroughgoing scolder, who never lets up reprimanding the lover. That is a tough business, and a heavy burden to bear.
I myself once had a like experience, very similar to what we are here discussing though not strictly in the same type of situation. Our mutual friend Abu '1-Sari 'Ammar Ibn Ziyad reproached me frequently about a certain course I was pursuing, and seconded the efforts of others who had reprimanded me on the selfsame score; yet I had always thought that he would take my side whatever I did, whether I was acting rightly or wrongly, because of the firm friendship and true brotherhood uniting us.
I have seen a lover so violent in his emotions, and so overwhelmingly infatuated, that he loved to be reproached more than anything in the world, in order that he might show his reproacher how stubbornly he could rebel against his scoldings. He took a positive delight in opposing him, in provoking him to resistance and doubled reproof, and then in triumphing over him; his joy was like that of a king who puts his enemies to flight, or a skilled debater who triumphs over his opponent. Sometimes this motive inspires a lover to provoke the reproacher to reprimand him; he will do things, which oblige the censor to begin his faultfinding. I have some verses on this topic.
Of all things this I love most fair,
For then perchance her name is named
Whose mention bids me not despair.
I quaff reproach, as though a cup
I drain with purest wine replete,
And after, having drunk it up,
Devour my mistress' name for sweet.
OF THE HELPFUL BROTHER
ONE of the things devoutly to be desired in Love is that Almighty God shall bestow upon a man a sincere friend, one moreover who is agreeable in speech, of amply abundant means, adroit in laying hold of an affair and shrewd in coming through it, masterly in setting forth an argument, sharp of tongue, of splendid magnanimity, widely learned, little apt to contradict, mighty in succour, strong to endure, patient in the face of impudence, broadly complaisant, a grand confederate, evenly matched, of praiseworthy character, innocent of all injustice, determined to be of help, loathing estrangement, noble in all his undertakings, averse to secret wickedness, profound in his conceptions, understanding his friend's desires, of virtuous habits, high-born, absolutely discreet, abounding in good works, truly trustworthy, incapable of treachery, of a generous spirit, of penetrating sensibility, accurate in intuition, wholly dependable, a perfect shield, renowned for his fidelity, of manifest constancy, steady in temper, ready with good counsel, sure in his affection, easy to lead on, having a lively faith, truthful in all that he utters, of a gay heart, strictly chaste, wide in prowess, endowed with fortitude, accustomed to sincerity, a stranger to revulsion, a haven of rest in times of trouble, ready to share the privacy of his friend's poverty and to partake of all its most intimate secrets.
In such a friend the lover may truly find his greatest repose. But where is such a man to be found? If you are able to lay your hands upon him, grapple him to you as a miser hugs his gold, and grasp him tightly as a niggard grips his silver. Guard him with all that you possess, sparing neither your inheritance nor your hard-earned wealth; for having him, your joy will be complete, your sorrows will be dispersed, the long hours will go by swiftly, and all your affairs will pass agreeably. With such a comrade no man will lack for goodly help and fair counsel. Therefore do kings take unto themselves ministers and courtiers that they may lighten for them somewhat of their heavy burden, and the crushing load they carry on their shoulders; that they may derive riches from their counsels, and reinforcement from their competency. Otherwise it is not within the power of human nature to withstand all the shocks that assail it, except a man seek succour of a kindred spirit, one resembling him in kind.
Some lovers there are who, missing this quality in their friends, and having little confidence in them because of their experience of mankind-for the one to whom the lover's secret is entrusted will generally act in one of two ways: either he will mock his opinion, or he will publish his secret therefore prefer solitude to society, and go apart from their fellows into desolate places, communing with the air and conversing with the earth; in which conduct they discover relief, as the sick man in his sighing, and the sorrowful man in his sobbing. For when cares crowd thickly into the; heart, the heart can no more contain them; and if it gives not vent to them with the tongue, and finds not relief in lamentation, the sufferer perishes of grief and dies of sorrow.
I have never seen anything to equal the helpfulness of women in this respect. They are far more forward than men in keeping love's secret, in counseling each other to be discreet, and in co-operating to conceal it whenever they happen to know of any such affair. I have never in my life known a woman to reveal the secret of a loving couple, without that she was hated, loathed and unanimously condemned by all her sisters. Old women excel young girls in this particular the latter sometimes do disclose what they know out of jealousy (though that happens indeed rarely), whereas the former have despaired of further romances, and are therefore now anxious solely for the welfare of others.
I know of a wealthy woman who possessed many slave-girls and servants. It was rumoured that one of her maids was in love with a young gentleman of the family, and that he reciprocated her sentiments; it was further reported that they were behaving disgracefully. A friend remarked to the mistress, " Your maid so-and-so knows all about the affair, and is intimate with every detail. The mistress thereupon laid hold of the maid-and she was very cruel in punishing her servants-and let her sample such a variety of blows and pummeling's as even the toughest man could not have endured, hoping that the girl would disclose to her something of the matter that had been mentioned to her; but she betrayed nothing whatsoever.
I also know of a great lady, able to recite the Koran from end to end, pious, and devoted to good works. She happened to obtain possession of a letter written by a boy to his ladylove; the boy was the property of a different household. The grand lady let the young man know that she was aware of the romance he sought to deny everything, but that was impossible. She then said to him, " What ails you? Who has ever been immune from love? Don't worry about this; by Allah, I will never apprise anyone of your secret.' If I could only buy her for you out of my property, even if it took all that I possess, I would gladly place her at your disposal, somewhere that you could come to her without anyone being the wiser."
You will sometimes see a virtuous, elderly lady, having given up all hope of men, whose fondest occupation and she has the greatest confidence that this will prove acceptable to God) is to contrive to marry off an orphan girl; she will lend her clothes and her jewels to an impoverished bride.
As for the reason why this instinct is so deeply rooted in women, I see no other explanation than that they have nothing else to fill their minds, except loving union and what brings it about, flirting and how it is done, intimacy and the various ways of achieving it. This is their sole occupation, and they were created for nothing else. Men on the other hand are divided in their interests; some seek to amass a fortune, some aspire to the company of kings, some pursue knowledge, some look after their families, some venture on arduous journeys, some hunt, some ply divers crafts, some go forth to the wars, some confront armed rebellions, some brave fearful perils, some cultivate the soil. All these different occupations diminish leisure, and divert men from the paths of idleness. I have read in the biographies of the kings of the negroes, that those monarchs assign their womenfolk to the care of a trusty henchman, who allots to each her task of wool spinning, so that their whole time is fully employed. For they say that when a woman remains without any occupation, she hankers after men and yearns for the marriagebed.
I have myself observed women, and got to know their secrets to an extent almost unparalleled; for I was reared in their bosoms, and brought up among them, not knowing any other society. I never sat with men until I was already a youth, and my beard had begun to sprout. Women taught me the Koran, they recited to me much poetry, they trained me in calligraphy; my only care and mental exercise, since first I began to understand anything, even from the days of earliest childhood, has been to study the affairs of females, to investigate their histories, and to acquire all the knowledge I could about them. I forget nothing of what I have seen them do. This all springs from a profound jealousy innate in me, and a deep instinctive suspicion of women's ways. I have thus discovered not a little of their habits and motives. All this shall be set forth at length in the appropriate chapters, God willing.
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