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<h1>THE KING OF ALSANDER</h1>
<h3>BY</h3>
<h2>JAMES ELROY FLECKER</h2>
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<h4>DEDICATION</h4>
<h4><i>To</i></h4>
<h4>J.N. MAVROGORDATO</h4>
<p class="center">
This Romance,<br/>
of which he never despaired in the Rough<br/>
Is dedicated in the Ripe<br/></p>
<h3><SPAN name="PREFACE"></SPAN>PREFACE</h3>
<p><i>Here is a tale all romance—a tale such as only a Poet can write for
you, O appreciative and generous Public—a tale of madmen, kings,
scholars, grocers, consuls, and Jews: a tale with two heroines, both of
an extreme and indescribable beauty: a tale of the South and of
sunshine, wherein will be found disguises, mysteries, conspiracies,
fights, at least</i> one <i>good whipping, and plenty of blood and love and
absurdity: a very old sort of tale: a tale as joyously improbable as
life itself.</i></p>
<p><i>But if I know you aright, appreciative and generous Public, you look
for more than this in these tragic days of social unrest, and you will
be most dissatisfied with my efforts to please you. For you a king is a
shadow, a madman a person to be shut up, a scholar a fool, a grocer a
tradesman, a consul an inferior grade of diplomatic officer, and a Jew a
Jew. You will demand to know what panacea is preached in this novel as a
sovran remedy for the dismal state of affairs in England. With what hope
do I delude the groaning poor: with what sarcasm insult the insulting
rich? What is the meaning of my apparent joyousness? What has grim
iron-banging England to do with sunshine, dancing, adventure and, above
all, with Poets?</i></p>
<p><i>In support of my reputation let me hasten to observe that in my efforts
to please a generous and appreciative Public I have not failed to insert
several passages of a high moral tone. Grave matters of ethics are
frequently discussed in the course of my story, and the earnest inquirer
may learn much from this book concerning the aim, purpose and origin of
his existence. To Government and its problems I have given particular
attention, and the observant reader may draw from these subtle pages a
complete theory of the Fallacy of the Picturesque. Only I implore the
public to forgive the Poet his proverbial licence, to remember that
truth is still truth, though clad in harlequin raiment, and thought
still thought, though hinted and not explained.</i></p>
<p><i>Farewell, then, my King of Alsander. Ride out into the world and
conquer. Behind you—a merry and a mocking phantom—my youth rides out
for ever!</i></p>
<p><i>Beyrouth,</i> <i>Syria</i>, 1913.</p>
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