Hajji Baba becomes a promoter of matrimony, and of the register he
keeps.
Preparatory to the full comprehension of the duties of my office, the
mollah Nadân requested me to introduce myself to the mûties, and gain
from them sufficient information to enable me to make a register, in
which I should insert their ages, appearance and beauty, tempers, and
general qualifications as wives. This I should carry about me, in order
to be able to exhibit it to any stranger who might fall in my way.
I first went to the bazaar, and furnished myself with a priests cloak,
with a coat that buttons across the breast, and a long piece of white
muslin, which I twisted round my head. Thus accoutred, in the full dress
of my new character, I proceeded to the womens house, and found a ready
admission, for they had been apprised of my intended visit.
I found them all three seated in a mean and wretched apartment, smoking.
Their veils were loosely thrown over their heads, which, upon my
appearance, by a habit common to all our women, they drew tight over
their faces, merely keeping one eye free.
Peace be unto you, khanums! said I (for I knew how an appearance of
great respect conciliates)--I am come, on the part of the mollah Nadân,
to make you a tender of my humble services; and perhaps, as you know the
object of my visit, you will not object to lay your veils on one side.
May you abide in peace, said they, mollah! and then gave me to
understand, by many flattering speeches, that I was welcome, and that
they hoped my presence would bring them good luck.
Two of them immediately unveiled, and discovered faces which had long
bade adieu to their lilies and roses; and upon which, notwithstanding
the help of the surmeh round the eyelids, the blue stars on the forehead
and chin, and the rouge on the cheeks, I could, in broad characters,
make out a long catalogue of wrinkles. The third lady carefully
continued to keep herself veiled.
I did not hesitate to make an exclamation of surprise, as soon as the
two charmers had opened their battery of smiles upon me. Praises to
Allah! _Mashallah!_ said I, this is a sight worthy of Ferhad himself.
Do not look too intensely upon me, for fear that I consume. What eyes!
what noses! what lips! Have pity upon me, and cease looking. But why,
said I, does this khanum--(pointing to the unveiled one)--why does
she hold me so long in suspense? Perhaps she thinks me unworthy of
contemplating her charms; and she thinks right, for I am only a poor
mollah, whilst doubtless even the sun, in all its majesty, is not
entitled to such privilege.
Why do you make this _naz_ (coyness ), said her companions to her;
you now he must be able to give an account of us, or else the curse of
single life will be our fate, and we shall remain the scorn and reproach
of womankind.
Be it so, said the third woman; the cat must come from under the
blanket; and, in a sort of pet, she drew off her veil, and, to my great
astonishment, exhibited to my view the well-known features of the wife
of the Shahs physician, my former master.
By all that is most sacred! by the beard of the blessed Prophet! said
I, how is this? Are the Gins at work, that they should have brought
this about?
Yes, Hajji, said she, very composedly, fate is a wonderful thing. But
you, you who killed my husband, how came you to be a mollah?
Is your husband dead, then, said I, that you talk to me thus? Why do
you throw words away in this unguarded manner? What have I to do with
your husbands death? He was once my master, and I grieve for his loss.
But you might as well say that I killed the martyr Hossein (blessings on
his memory!) as that I killed the hakîm. Tell me what has happened; for
I am walking round and round in the labyrinth of ignorance.
Why do you pretend ignorance, said she with her usual scream, when you
must know that it was on your account that the Shah sent Zeenab out of
this world--that her death led to the doctor having his beard plucked
--that having his beard plucked brought on his disgrace--and his
disgrace death? Therefore you are the cause of all the mischief.
What ashes are you heaping upon my head, O khanum? said I with great
vehemence; why am I to be told that I am the death of a man, when I
was a hundred parasangs off at the time? You might as well say, if your
husband had died of a surfeit, that the labourer who had planted the
rice was the cause of his death.
We continued to argue for some time, when the other women, fearing that
their interests would be neglected, interposed, and put me in mind that
we had business to transact; for they were anxious that their charms
should no longer lie barren and neglected. The khanum, too, who only
talked for talkings sake, and who, to my knowledge, had cherished a
more than common hatred for her husband, seemed anxious that I should
forget her former more flourishing situation, and requested me to
proceed to business.
Still, to carry on the farce of respect, I began first with the doctors
widow, and requested to know some of the particulars of her history; in
order, when I came to describe her to some impatient bridegroom, I might
be able to do so in the best manner for her interests.
You know as well as I, said she, that I once enjoyed the favour of
that rose in the paradise of sweets, the King of Kings; that I was the
first beauty in his harem, and the terror of all my rivals. But who can
withstand the decrees of destiny? A new woman arrived, who was provided
with a more powerful spell than I could possess for securing the Shahs
love, and she destroyed my power. She feared my charms so much, that she
would not rest until I was expelled; and then, for my misfortune, the
Shah made a present of me to his chief physician. Oh, I shall never
forget the pangs of my mind, when I was transferred from the glories
and delights of the royal palace to the arms of the doctor, and to a
residence among physic and gallipots! I will not repeat all the history
of Zeenab. When the hakîm died, I endeavoured to revive the Shahs good
feelings towards me; but the avenues to his ear were closed; and from
one stage of misery to another I, who once could lead the viceregent of
Allah by the beard, am reduced to seek a husband in the highway.
Upon this she began to cry and bemoan her cruel destiny; but I in some
measure pacified her, by the assurance that I would do all in my power
to procure for her a suitable mate.
You see, said she, that I am still handsome, and that the career
of my youth is yet to run. Look at my eyes: have they lost their
brightness? Admire my eyebrows. Where will you meet with a pair that
are so completely thrown into one? Then see my waist, it is not a span
round.
She went on in full enumeration of her most minute perfections, upon
which I gazed with all my eyes, as she desired; but, instead of youth
and beauty, I could make nothing better of her than an old fat and
bloated hag, upon whom I longed to revenge myself, for her former
ill-treatment to the unfortunate Zeenab.
The other two ladies then gave me a sketch of their lives. One was the
widow of a silversmith, who had been blown from a mortar for purloining
some gold, which he had received to make a pair of candlesticks for
the king; and the other had turned mûti in her own defence, having been
abandoned by her husband, who had fled from the wrath of the Shah, and
sought refuge among the Russians.
They also endeavoured to persuade me that they were young and handsome,
to which I agreed with as good a grace as I was able; and, having made
the necessary notes in my register, I promised to exert myself to
the best for their advantage. Recollect, said one, that I am only
eighteen. Dont forget, said another, that I am still a child.
Always keep in mind my two eyebrows that look like one, roared out the
hakîms widow.
Upon my eyes be it, exclaimed I, as I left the room; and then I
consoled myself for the sight of such a trio of frights, by giving vent
to a peal of anathemas and laughter.
[Illustration: The mock marriage. 29.jpg]