Early on the next morning the Tenth Vizier sent a woman to the Queen
with a message, urging her to exert her influence over the King, and
induce him to give orders for the execution of Bakhtyār. The Queen, in
consequence of this, addressed the King on the subject before he left
the palace, and he replied, that Bakhtyār’s fate was now decided, and
that his execution should not be any longer deferred. The King then went
forth, and the Viziers attended in their proper places. The Tenth Vizier
was rising to speak, when the King informed him of his resolution to
terminate the affair of Bakhtyār by putting him to death on that day.
He was brought accordingly from the prison; and the King on seeing him
said: “You have spoken a great deal of your innocence, yet have not been
able to make it appear; therefore no longer entertain any hopes of
mercy, for I have given orders for your execution.”—On hearing this,
Bakhtyār began to weep, and said: “I have hitherto endeavoured to gain
time, conscious of my innocence, and hoping that it might be proved, and
a guiltless person saved from an ignominious death; but I now find it
vain to struggle against the decrees of Heaven. Thus the King of Persia
foolishly attempted to counteract his destiny, and triumph over the will
of Providence, but in vain.”
The King expressed a desire of hearing the story to which Bakhtyār
alluded, and the young man began to relate it as follows:
STORY OF THE KING OF PERSIA.
There was a certain King of Persia, a very powerful and wealthy monarch,
who, not having any child, employed all the influence of prayers and of
alms to procure the blessing of a son from Heaven. At length one of his
handmaids became pregnant, and the King was transported with joy; but
one night, in a dream, he was addressed by an old man, who said: “The
Lord has complied with your request, and to-morrow you shall have a son;
but in his seventh year a lion shall seize and carry off this son to the
top of a mountain, from which he shall fall, rolling in blood and clay.”
When the King awoke, he assembled the viziers, and related to them the
horrors of his dream. They replied: “Long be the King’s life! If Heaven
has decreed such a calamity who can oppose or control it?”—The King
presumptuously declared that he would struggle against and counteract
it; but one of his viziers, eminently skilled in astrology, discovered
one day, by the power of his science, that the King would, after twenty
years, perish by the hand of his own son. In consequence of this, he
immediately waited on the King, and informed him that he had to
communicate a certain matter, for the truth and certainty of which he
would answer with his life. The King desired him to reveal it; and he,
falling on the knees of obedience, related all that he had discovered in
the stars. “If it happens not according to what you predict,” said the
King, “I shall certainly put you to death.”
In the meantime, however, he caused a subterraneous dwelling to be
constructed, to which he sent the boy, with a nurse. There they remained
during the space of seven years, when, in compliance with the heavenly
decree, a lion suddenly rushed into the cave, and devoured the nurse,
and having wounded the child, carried him up to the summit of a
neighbouring mountain, from which he let him fall to the bottom, covered
with blood and earth. It happened that one of the King’s secretaries
came by, in pursuit of game, and perceived the boy in this situation,
and the lion standing on the summit of the mountain. He immediately
resolved to save the child; and having taken him to his own house, he
healed his wounds, and instructed him in various accomplishments.
On the day after the nurse had been devoured and the child carried away
by the lion, the King resolved to visit the cave, and finding it
deserted, he concluded that the nurse had escaped to some other place.
He instantly despatched messengers to seek her in every quarter, but in
vain.
In process of time the boy grew up, and acted as keeper [of pen and ink]
to the secretary. In this situation, having been employed at the palace,
it happened that the King saw and was much pleased with him, and felt
within his bosom the force of paternal affection. In consequence of this
he demanded him of the secretary, and clothed him in splendid garments;
and after some time, when an enemy invaded the country, and required the
King’s presence with his army, he appointed the young man to be his
armour-bearer; and, accompanied by him, proceeded to battle.
After a bloody conflict, the troops of the enemy were victorious, and
those of the King began to fly; but he, in the impulse of rage and fury,
threw himself into the midst of his adversaries, fighting with the most
desperate valour. In this state of confusion it was impossible to know
one person from another; the young armour-bearer, who fought also with
the utmost bravery, no longer distinguishing the King, rushed into a
crowd of combatants, and striking furiously on all sides, cut off the
hand of one man whom he supposed to be of the enemy’s side; but this
person was the King, who, on recognising the armour-bearer, upbraided
him with this attempt upon his life, and being unable to remain any
longer in the field, he retired, with his troops, to the capital, and
the next day concluded a peace with the enemy, on condition of paying a
considerable sum of money. He then gave orders that the armour-bearer
should be arrested, and although he persevered in declarations of
innocence, they availed him not; he was thrown into prison, and loaded
with chains.
In the meantime the King was reposing on the pillow of death; and when
he found that all hopes of recovery were vain, he resolved to punish the
vizier who had told him that his son should be torn by a lion, and that
he should fall by the hand of that son. “Now,” said the King, “my son
has been carried away to some other country by his nurse, and I have
been wounded by the hand of a different person.” Having said this, he
sent for the vizier, and desired him to prepare for death. “This
armour-bearer,” added he, “and not my own son, has wounded me, contrary
to your prediction; and, as you consented to be punished in case your
prediction should not be accomplished, I have resolved to put you to
death.”—“Be it so,” replied the vizier; “but let us first inquire into
the birth of this young armour-bearer.”
The King immediately sent for the young man, and asked him concerning
his parents and his country. He answered that of the country which gave
him birth he was ignorant; but that he had been with his mother in a
subterraneous place, and that she had informed him of his father’s being
a king, but he had never seen his father; that one day a lion carried
him away to the summit of a mountain, from which he fell, and was taken
up by the secretary, by whom he was instructed in various
accomplishments, and from whose service he passed into that of the King.
When the King heard this, he was amazed, and his hair stood on end; and
he sent for the viziers and secretary, who confirmed what the young man
had said.
Having thus ascertained that the armour-bearer was his own son, he
resigned to him the crown and throne; and having invested the vizier
with the robe of prime-minister, he expired in the course of three days.
* * * * *
Here Bakhtyār concluded his narrative, and observed, that he had
struggled against his evil destiny, like that king, but in vain. Having
said this, the King wished to send him back to prison; but the Ten
Viziers unanimously declared that they would leave the country if
Bakhtyār’s punishment was any longer deferred.
The King then acknowledged that he could not bear to behold the
execution of the young man; in consequence of which the Viziers led him
away, and assembled all the people by proclamation, that they might see
him put to death.
CONCLUSION.
It happened at this time that Farrukhsuwār, who had found Bakhtyār at
the side of the well, came, with some of his companions, to the city,
and was wrapped in that embroidered cloak which the King and Queen had
left with the infant. In passing by the place of execution he beheld the
guards leading out Bakhtyār to punishment, on which he rushed amongst
them with his companions, and rescued the young man from their hands,
and then solicited an audience of the King.
On coming into the royal presence Farrukhsuwār exclaimed: “This young
man is my son; I cannot bear to see him executed: if he must perish, let
me also be put to death.”—“Your wish in this respect,” said the King,
“may be easily gratified.”—“Alas!” cried Farrukhsuwār, “if the father of
this youth, who was a king, or his mother, who was a queen, were
informed of his situation, they would save him from this ignominious
death!” The King laughed at the seeming inconsistency of Farrukhsuwār,
and said: “You told me at one time that Bakhtyār was your son, yet now
you describe him as the child of royal parents.”
Farrukhsuwār, in reply, told all the circumstances of his finding
Bakhtyār near the well, and showed the cloak in which he had been
wrapped. The King immediately knew it to be the same which he had left
with the infant, and asked whether Farrukhsuwār had found anything
besides. He produced the bracelet of pearls, and the King, now convinced
that Bakhtyār was not the son of Farrukhsuwār, but his own, took the
cloak and the bracelets to the Queen, and asked her if she had ever
before seen them. She instantly exclaimed: “They were my child’s!—what
tidings do you bring of him?”—“I shall bring himself,” replied the King;
and he immediately sent an order to the Viziers that they should conduct
Bakhtyār to the palace.
When he arrived, the King, with his own hands, took off his chains,
placed a royal turban on his head, and covered him with the embroidered
cloak, and then led him to the Queen, saying: “This is our son, whom we
left on the brink of the well.” When the Queen heard this, and beheld
Bakhtyār, the tears gushed forth from her eyes, and she embraced him
with the greatest emotion. Bakhtyār then asked the Queen why she had
endeavoured to destroy him by a false accusation, and she confessed that
the Viziers had induced her; on which the King ordered their immediate
execution, and then resigned the throne to Bakhtyār, who was
acknowledged sovereign by all the people. Farrukhsuwār was invested with
the dignity of chief Vizier, and his companions rewarded with honourable
appointments; and Bakhtyār continued for many years to govern with
justice, wisdom, and generosity.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
⁂ In the Preface to his translation and text of the _Bakhtyār Nāma_, Sir
William Ouseley states, that “as this work is chiefly designed for the
use of those who begin to study the Persian language,” he selected for
translation, from among three manuscripts in his own possession and five
or six others in the collections of several friends, “that which seemed
written in the most pure and simple style; for several copies, in
passing through the hands of ignorant or conceited transcribers, have
suffered a considerable depravation of the original text, and one, in
particular, is so disguised by the alterations and augmented by the
additions of some Indian Munshī, that it appears almost a different
work. These additions, however, are only turgid amplifications and
florid exuberancies, according to the modern corrupt style of Hindūstān,
which distinguishes the compositions of that country from the chaste and
classical productions of Īrān.” Regarding his own translation, he says
that, while it will be found sufficiently literal, he has “not retained
those idioms which would not only be uncouth, but perhaps
unintelligible, in English: some repetitions I have taken the liberty of
omitting; and as most of the stories begin and end nearly in the same
manner, I have on such occasions compressed into a few lines the subject
of a page.” But since the translation was mainly designed to aid
learners of Persian, it seems strange that he should have deemed it
advisable to take any “liberties” such as he mentions; and an
examination of the text appended to his translation shows that he has
occasionally done something more than omit mere “repetitions”: in
several instances he has omitted whole passages, of which many are
requisite to the proper connection of the incidents related in the
stories; and this, too, in dealing with a text which is itself evidently
abridged from “the original”—if indeed an original Persian text now
exists.
The more important deficiencies of Sir William Ouseley’s
translation—arising, as has been already explained, from his imperfect
text as well as from his own omissions—which will be found included in
the following Notes, have been supplied by my obliging friend Mr William
Platt, the veteran scholar, who has taken the trouble of comparing the
translation with the carefully edited lithographed text of the _Bakhtyār
Nāma_, published, at Paris, in 1839; and has, besides these notes of
omissions, &c., kindly furnished me with other valuable materials, of
which I have gladly availed myself, with the view of rendering this
curious and in many respects unique work more complete and interesting
to general English readers.
W. A. C.
NOTES ON CHAPTER I.
It is customary for Muslim authors to place at the beginning of all
their compositions the Arabic invocation—
_bi ’smi ’llāhi ’r-rahmānī ’r-rahīmī_
which Sale renders: “In the name of the most merciful God!” but which is
more correctly translated: “In the name of God, the Merciful, the
Compassionate!” The _`Ulama_, or professors of religion and law,
interpret “the merciful” to signify “merciful in small things,” and “the
compassionate,” as “merciful in great things.” This invocation, which is
placed at the head of each chapter of the Kur’ān, except the ninth, is
not only also prefixed to every Muhammadan book or writing, but is
pronounced by Muslims on their undertaking every lawful act. It is said
that Muhammad borrowed it from a similar practice of the Magians and
Rabbins. Following the invocation are usually praise and blessings on
the Prophet, his Family, and his Companions. In Sir William Ouseley’s
printed text only the customary invocation appears, which he does not
give in his English version. The following is a translation of the
introduction as given in the lithographed text:
“IN THE NAME OF GOD, THE MERCIFUL, THE COMPASSIONATE!
Thanksgiving and praise without end, and salutation and eulogium without
stint, to the Supreme Benefactor, who is above all commendation—the
Holy-One, beyond our imagination! May He be ever exalted on high, the
well-furnished table of whose generosity is spread over the surface of
the earth, and on the table of whose bounty every ant finds its food in
safety! And salutation and praise to all the prophets, and, above all,
to our Prophet, who is the Apostle, and the Director of the Path [of
God], and the Prince of Creation, and the purest of created
beings—Muhammad, the Elect! May God be propitious and vouchsafe
salvation to him, his Family, and Companions, one and all!—After this
introduction [be it known], this work and composition is divided into
ten chapters [gates], and each chapter affords to the intelligent moral
examples, and to the wise recognised forewarnings.”
_Page 3._ “The country of Sīstān,” or Sijistān (the ancient Drangiana),
lies to the east of Farsistān, or Persia proper. The Governor is
entitled Shah-i-nīmrūz (Sa`dī’s _Gulistān_, iii, 27). The famous Rustam,
the Hercules of Persia, held this country as a fief under the Kings of
Persia (see Ranking’s _Wars and Sports of the Mongols_, p. 93).
_Page 3._ Āzād-bakht: “Free-Fortune”—“Fortunate.”
_Page 3._ Sipah-sālār, here employed as a proper name, signifies a
general, a commander of an army, especially a chief of cavalry: from
asp, a horse, and _sālār_, a leader. _Sālār-i-jung_, a leader in war, is
one of the titles given by Eastern princes to their nobles.
_Page 3._ “The rose of the garden and the moon of the heavenly spheres
were confounded at the superior lustre of her cheeks.”—The comparison of
a beautiful woman’s face to the moon, however absurd it may appear to
some readers, is a very favourite one with Orientals, from Solomon
downwards; it is, moreover, employed by several of our own admired
English poets, as Spenser, Shakspeare, and Pope. In the Notes to my
_Arabian Poetry for English Readers_ many parallel passages on this
similitude are cited from Eastern and Western poets.
_Page 4._ “A litter was provided.”—Several kinds of litters are used in
Persia and India. Garcin de Tassy, in a note to his French translation
of the Persian romance of _Kāmarupa_ (chap. xxiii), quotes the following
interesting account of the palanquins and carriages of India, from the
_Arāish-i-Mahfil_:
“It is known that the _gāri_ is an invention of the people of India.
They who use them are sheltered from heat, cold, wind, or rain. The
Bayadīres [or dancing-girls], who employ these carriages drawn by oxen,
put silver ornaments on their horns, hang small bells on the axle-tree,
and place negroes on the pole. In this sumptuous carriage they frequent
fairs, the shrines visited by pilgrims, and public gardens. The
astonished lookers-on are inclined to regard them as strolling fairies,
travelling on thrones to the sound of cymbals; ... but the carriages of
discreet females, named _rath_, are covered with awnings, so closely
fastened that the opening of the breadth of a hair cannot be seen.
Unfortunately the wheeled carriages jolt, yet in other respects are
comfortable. Three or four men seated can travel without fatigue,
chatting the meanwhile, and perform the journey, enjoying the advantage
of repose. Some of the _gāri_ have curtains, some are without. The small
and light are called _manjhalī_, the very light and diminutive, _gainī_,
and the oxen drawing them are of a peculiarly small breed, and are
distinguished by the name of _gaina_. These small carriages are
preferable to the _rath_, which has four wheels. In fact, they jolt but
little, and are of sufficient importance to carry the Amīr. There are
some so well constructed, and adorned with such beautiful paintings,
that they throw into a frenzy those who behold them; and the blinds are
to such a degree pleasing and elegant that, if the Sun shone as they
were passing along, he would descend from his car and mount thereon; and
if the god Indra [King of Heaven] should see them, he would quit his
throne and place himself therein. So that persons of high rank, who do
not disdain to use them, vary the furniture according to the seasons:
during hot weather the blinds are made of veti-ver;[27] in the rainy
season, of oiled silk; and in winter, of wool. Those, however, who use
them most frequently are traders, bankers, government servants, and
Muslim and Hindū women.—Besides the carriages just described there is a
kind of throne, called _nālkī_, for sovereigns; and for the Amīr,
palanquins with trimmings of fringe, termed _pālkī_. The palanquins of
ladies are the _mahādol_, _chāndol_, _sukhpūl_, and _miāna_; and for the
female poor, _dolī_. So that a lady, _comme il faut_, need never walk,
and no individual who is not _mahram_ [who is not privileged to visit
the harem] can ever see her figure.”
Among the other kinds of litters or carriages used in the East are: the
_imari_, carried by elephants and camels, so named from Imar, the
inventor, also called _hodaj_, or _hawdaj_ (howdah), made of wood, or
cloth stretched over a frame, and either open or covered at the top; and
the _takht-i-ravan_, usually carried by mules within shafts before and
behind: it is the Armamaxa, in which the children of Darius and their
attendants were carried. (_Quintus Curtius_, b. iii, c. 3.)
_Page 4._ “The King ... was at that moment returning from the
chase.”—Hunting the antelope, wild-ass, &c., has been the favourite
pastime of the kings and nobles of Persia from the most ancient times.
The modern kings of Persia have palaces in many parts of their
dominions, whither they resort for the climate or for the chase. To
these palaces are attached villages, in which provisions are collected
for the use of the court as soon as the motions of the King are
decided.[28]—For a graphic description of the Persian mode of hunting
the antelope, with hawks as well as dogs, see Sir John Malcolm’s
_Sketches of Persia_.
_Page 4._ “Kissed the ground of respectful obedience.”—The Persians in
their salutations and acts of submission so prostrate themselves as
almost to place their faces on the ground. This prostration, called _rūy
zamīn_ (“the face on the ground”), is made by bowing the body at right
angles, the hands placed on the knees, and the legs a little apart.—In
allusion to this mode of salutation, the Persian poet Hāfiz declares
that, in the presence of his fair enslaver, he would _make besoms of his
eyelashes_; as Richardson paraphrases it:
O for one heavenly glance of that dear maid,
How would my raptured heart with joy rebound!
Down to her feet I’d lowly bend my head,
And with my eyebrows sweep the hallowed ground.[29]
Lane, in the Notes to his translation of the _Thousand and One Nights_,
thus describes the Arabian (or modern Egyptian) mode of paying respect
to superiors: touching the ground, and then the lips and forehead, or
turban, with the right hand.—The Khalif Hakim Biamri ’llah (11th
century) issued an order that no one in future should kiss the ground in
his presence, or salute him in the highway, or kiss his hand or stirrup;
because to prostrate oneself before a human being was an act of worship
introduced by the Greeks; and the only formula of salutation should be:
“May protection be vouchsafed to the Prince of the Faithful! May the
mercy and blessings of God rest upon him!”
_Page 5._ “Fixed by the fascinating beauty of the damsel,” &c.—The
lithographed text says: “From the effect of her glance the heart became
lost, and the bird of his soul began to take flight in the atmosphere of
love.... He pushed forward his courser, and recited this _gazal_ [or
ode]:
My heart has fallen into the hand of a sprightly lover, of marvellous
beauty;
This intelligent countenance, bright as the moon, has stolen my heart
from the hand of the Creator;
So that when I beheld the cypress form my unhappy heart began to bleed.
Her rose-like countenance has placed in a sorrowful soul a rankling
thorn!”
_Page 5._ “Ruler of the world.” The text gives the address of the
litter-attendants to the King as follows:
“Whatever may be the advice of the Pādishāh who adorns the world, it is
the eye [_i.e._ the essence] of correct judgment.
_Quatrain._
O mighty King of the chief city,
Thy counsel is always good;
How can any one oppose thy command—
Who would dare to express himself otherwise?
Thy command [will be] the support of the life and the happiness of the
father and the daughter. If they had seen in a dream this happiness,
they would not be able to contain themselves in this world, especially
in a state of wakefulness. But for every transaction there is custom and
propriety, [so that] if they [_i.e._ the litter attendants] escort at
this moment the daughter to the city, people will raise doubts, and
foster a suspicion touching the King, [on the score] of undue haste and
impatience, and will assert that the King had carried off this lady by
force and abuse of power, and [thus] would arise [tittle-tattle
respecting] the question and answer of the lovers, and the exulting
triumph[30] of the enemies. This is the right course to pursue: if the
King grant permission, we will convoy the daughter to Sipahsālār, that
he may do for this discharge of duty whatever is the custom; and, having
provided suitable paraphernalia, send back the daughter to the Pādishāh;
and thus both the vizier’s dignity would be maintained, and also the
[love] affair of the Pādishāh be accomplished in a becoming manner.”
The giving of a dowry is indispensable, and without it no marriage is
legal. According to the rank in life of the bride, it consists of a
wardrobe, jewels, furniture, slaves, eunuchs, and a sum of money varying
in amount. No portion of the dowry can be taken away by the husband
against the wife’s wish. She remains absolute mistress of the whole of
her own property, inherited, or otherwise acquired. (_Voyages de M.
Chardin en Perse, &c.; Lane’s Modern Egyptians._)
_Page 6._ “He caused the necessary ceremonies to be performed.”—Here
again the text is fuller than our translation:
“And the marriage-knot was tied in strict conformity with the law. And
when the ceremony was concluded, all the secretaries of the government
wrote letters of congratulation, and apprised Sipahsālār of the
submission to this insult. When Sipahsālār read the letters a flood of
tears poured down from his eyes, and the fire of enmity kindled a flame
in his heart. And although the King had settled the matter religiously
and according to the law, yet when all that had transpired reached his
ears, his heart bled to overflowing, by reason of the excess of
affection for his daughter. Sipahsālār, considering it good policy,
wrote a letter of thanks to his Excellency the Pādishāh, replete with
all kinds of expressions, evincing joy and felicity: ‘This is indeed
happiness, that such powerful support should be extended towards me! I
am utterly unable to quit myself of the obligation I am under for this
high honour, now that his Majesty has placed this crown of glory on the
head of his slave. As soon as I arrive in the royal presence, I will
kiss the ground of felicity.’
“Dissembling, he penned these phrases, and concealed the [evil]
intention of his wrath, and day and night was devising deceit and
stratagem.”
The Vizier of Āzādbakht could ill brook his rights as a father being set
at naught. The parent, or nearest adult relation, is always the deputy
of the future bride to effect the marriage contract. Moreover,
Sipahsālār considered this tyrannical proceeding as an ungrateful return
for his services with the army. Notwithstanding the King’s rather
brusque manner of wooing, however, the lady is represented as being
devotedly attached to him, and she braved the perils of the desert for
his sake.
_Page 8._ “To seek an asylum from the King of Kirmān.”—The text has also
the following quatrain:
The King of Kirmān is a great dispenser of justice;
On our behalf he will bestow a look of indulgence
He will furnish troops, gold, and silver:
Unless this course be pursued, there is no other remedy.
Kirmān (Carmania) is a province of Persia (the ancient Gedrasia), having
to the north Khurasan, to the east Afghanistān and Bilūchistān, to the
south the Persian Gulf, to the west Fars and Luristān. _Carmanicus
Sinus_: the Gulf of Ormuz. Kirmān is the plural of _kirm_, a worm, and
the province where silkworms were originally bred. It is celebrated for
the cultivation of the white rose, from which _`itr-i-gul_ (attar of
roses) is distilled; and also for a peculiar breed of sheep, called
_dumbadār_, small, short-legged, with a long bushy tail.
_Page 9._ “Directed their course towards the desert,” _i.e._ of
Kirmān.—The text has this quatrain:
Behold to what misery misfortune has thrown me!
Owing to breach of good faith, she has cast me into a sea of troubles;
For adverse Fortune has devised an evil design against me,
Inasmuch as she has separated friends from each other.
_Page 9._ “A hundred thousand lives such as mine are not in value equal
to a single hair of the King’s head.”—In less extravagant terms does a
distressed damsel in another romance express herself: “Of a truth, noble
man, you have displayed your compassionate nature; but I cannot consent
to save my body at the cost of yours: for who ought to save a common
stone by the sacrifice of a gem?”—_Vetāla Panchavinsati_, or Twenty-five
Tales of a Demon.
_Page 10._ “The Queen brought forth a son; in beauty he was lovely as
the moon,” &c.—The Orientals compare beautiful youths, as well as
damsels, to the moon: Hafiz styles Joseph the Hebrew patriarch—who is
throughout the Muhammadan world regarded as the type of youthful
beauty—“the Moon of Canaan.” Morier remarks, in his _Second Journey to
Persia, &c._: “The Eastern women suffer little from parturition, for the
better sort of them are frequently on foot the day after delivery, and
out of all confinement on the third day [this on the authority of
Harmer, vol. iv, p. 434]. They are sometimes ‘delivered ere the midwives
come in unto them’: Exodus, i, 19; and the lower orders often deliver
themselves. I knew an instance where a peasant’s wife, in Turkey, who
was at work in a vineyard, stepped behind the hedge, delivered herself,
and carried the child home slung behind her back.”
_Page 10._ “They wrapped up the child in a cloak embroidered with gold,
and fastened a bracelet of large pearls,” &c.—In the legend of Pope
Gregory, the child is exposed with gold at his head and silver at his
feet (see the English _Gesta Romanorum_, chapter 51; edited by
Herrtage); and in one of the Tales of the _Vetāla_, a child is similarly
exposed, with a sum of gold, at the gate of a royal palace, and the King
adopts him as his son and successor (_Kathā Sarit Sāgara_, Ocean of the
Rivers of Narrative).
_Page 10._ “He sent his servants to welcome them, and received them with
the greatest respect and hospitality;” that is, by a deputation
(_istikbāl_), one of the principal modes among the Persians of doing
honour to their guests. Those sent in advance to meet the guests are
called _pīsh vāz_, “openers of the way.” In the ninth chapter we find
the approaching guests met at the distance of two days’ journey[31] from
the city. “On the day of our entry,” says Morier, in his _Second
Journey_, “we were met by the youngest son of the Amīnu-’d-Dawla, a boy
of about thirteen years of age, who received the ambassador [Sir Gore
Ouseley] with all the ease of an old courtier.” So, too, the King of
Kirmān “sent his own son and two attendants to wait on Āzādbakht.”
_Page 11._ “The musicians singing and playing, and the guests
drinking.”—Music contributes as much as wine to the pleasures of an
Eastern carousal. “Wine,” they say, “is as the body, music is the soul,
and joy is their offspring.” The gamut, or scale of musical notes, is
called in the East, _durr-imafassal_, “separate pearls.” The musical
instruments commonly employed are: the _Kānūn_, the dulcimer or harp;
the _sitār_, a three-stringed instrument (from _si_, three, and _tār_,
string), whence cithara and guitar; and the _arghān_ or _orghanūn_, the
organ. Old Persian writers describe the _arghān_ as invented by
_Iflatūn_ (Plato), and as superior to all psalteries (_mazamīr_), and
used in Yūnan (Ionia or Greece) and in Rūm (Iconium). Also the _chang_
(Arabic, _junk_), the harp; the _rabāb_, rebeck; the _tambūr_,
tambourine; and the _barbat_, or barbitan.—Morier, in his Second Journey
(p. 92), was treated with a concert of four musicians; “one of whom
played on the _Kamāncha_ [viol]; a second sang, fanning his mouth with a
piece of paper to aid the undulations of his voice; the third was a
tambourine-player; and the last beat two little drums placed on the
ground before him.” Gentius, in a note to the _Gulistān_ of Sa`dī, says
that “music is in such consideration [in Persia], that it is a maxim of
their sages, that when a king is about to die, if he leaves for his
successor a very young son, his aptitude for reigning should be proved
by some agreeable songs; and if the child is pleasurably affected, then
it is a sign of his capacity and genius, but if the contrary, he should
be declared unfit.”—It would appear that the old Persian musicians, like
Timotheus, know the secret art of swaying the passions. The celebrated
philosopher Alfarabi (who died about the middle of the tenth century),
among his other accomplishments, excelled in music, in proof of which a
curious anecdote is told. Returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca, he
introduced himself, though a stranger, at the court of Sayfu-’d-Dawla,
Sultan of Syria, when a party of musicians chanced to be performing, and
he joined them. The prince admired his skill, and desiring to hear
something of his own, Alfarabi unfolded a composition, and distributed
the parts among the band. The first movement threw the prince and his
courtiers into violent and inextinguishable laughter, the next melted
all into tears, and the last lulled even the performers to sleep.—At the
retaking of Bagdād by the Turks, in 1638, when the springing of a mine,
whereby eight hundred janissaries perished, was the signal for a general
massacre, and thirty thousand Persians were put to the sword, “a Persian
musician, named Shāh Kūlī, who was brought before Murād, played and sang
so sweetly, first a song of triumph, and then a dirge, that the Sultan,
moved to pity by his music, gave orders to stop the massacre.”[32]
_Page 11._ “His eyes were filled with tears.”—Although Muslims are
remarkably calm and resigned under the heaviest afflictions, yet they do
not consider the shedding of tears as either evidence of effeminacy or
inconsistent with a heroic mind.—_Lane._ In the old Badawī _Romance of
`Antar_ (of which an epitome is given in my _Arabian Poetry for English
Readers_) the hero is frequently represented as weeping.
_Page 11._ “The King of Kirmān then inquired into the particulars of
Āzādbakht’s misfortunes.”—It thus appears that, in accordance with the
time-honoured rules of Eastern hospitality, the King received Āzādbakht
as his guest without subjecting him to any preliminary questioning; and
only diffidently “inquired into the particulars” after the unhappy
monarch had informed him that he was a fugitive from his kingdom. The
old Arabs, like the old Scottish Highlanders, were scrupulous in
abstaining from inquiring the name and tribe of a chance guest, lest he
should prove an enemy; and if, after the guest had eaten of their bread
and salt, he was found to belong to a hostile tribe or clan, he would be
entertained during three days, should he so desire, and then be
dismissed unharmed.
_Page 12._ Farrukhsuwār: from _farrukh_, fortunate, happy, and _suwār_,
a cavalier, a horseman; especially a Persian chief, as being skilled in
horsemanship and archery. Suwār-i-Sīstān: Rustam, the famous Persian
hero.
_Page 13._ “He resolved to adopt the infant as his own.”—The Muhammadan
law (says Lane) allows the adoption of sons, provided that the person to
be adopted consents to the act, if of age to judge for himself; also
that he has been deprived of his parents by death or other means; and
that there be such a difference of age between the two parties as might
subsist between a natural father and son. The adopted son enjoys the
same right of inheritance as the natural son.—Farrukhsuwār, we see,
though a chief of banditti, yet took care that his adopted son should be
“instructed in all the necessary accomplishments.” The adoption of sons
is universal throughout the East—in Persia, India, Japan; in the latter
country, “the principle of adoption,” says Mr Mitford, in his _Tales of
Old Japan_, “prevails among all classes, from the Emperor down to his
meanest subject; nor is the family line considered to have been broken
because an adopted son has succeeded to the estate.”
_Page 13._ Khudā-dād, _i.e._, “granted by God”: Deodatus; Theodore.
_Page 13._ “Able to fight, alone, five hundred men.” This is one of the
few instances of Oriental hyperbole which occur in the work; and since
we do not find our hero represented subsequently as distinguishing
himself by his prowess, except on the occasion which led to his capture,
it must be considered as introduced by the author conventionally, or by
way of embellishment. The heroes of Eastern romance, for the most part,
are not only beautiful as the moon, and accomplished in all the arts and
sciences, but also strong and courageous as a lion. In the romance of
_Dūshwanta and Sakūntalā_, an episode of the great Indian epic poem,
_Mahābharata_, the son of the beautiful heroine is thus described:
“Sakūntalā was delivered of a son, of inconceivable strength, bright as
the God of Fire, the image of Dūshwanta, endowed with personal beauty
and generosity of soul.... This mighty child seemed as if he could
destroy lions with the points of his white teeth. He bore on his hand
the mark of a wheel, which is the sign of sovereignty. His person was
beautiful, his head capacious, he possessed great bodily strength, and
his appearance was that of a celestial. During the short time that he
remained under the care of Kanwa, he grew exceedingly; and when he was
only six years old, his strength was so great that he was wont to bind
such beasts as lions, tigers, elephants, wild boars, and buffaloes to
the trees about the hermitage. He would even mount them, ride them
about, and play with them to tame them; whence the inhabitants of
Kanwa’s hermitage gave him a name: ‘Let him,’ said they, ‘be called
Sarva-damana, because he tameth all;’ and thus the child obtained the
name of Sarva-damana.”—And the Arabian hero `Antar, while yet a mere
stripling, slew a wolf, and carried home its paws to his slave-mother as
a trophy. (Compare with this the youthful exploit of David with a lion
and a bear, 1 Sam. xvii, 34, 35.) So, too, in the Early English Romance
of Sir Bevis of Hampton;—when only seven years old, Bevis knocked down
two stout men with his cudgel; and while still in his “teens” he slew
single-handed sixty Saracen knights.
_Page 14._ “The chief of the caravan.”—The _Mihtar Kārwān_, or _Kārwān
Bash_, held a position of responsibility and importance. By the payment
of armed attendants he took precautions against the attack of brigands,
as the merchants who formed a caravan were, it is said, on most
occasions, so devoid of courage that they cried “quarter” at the mere
sight of a drawn sword.
_Page 15._ “He also put on him his own robe” (_Kabā-i Khāss_).—The
_Kabā_ is a tunic, or long cloth coat, of any colour, quite open in
front, and worn over the shirt, and is the special garment of the rich,
and so distinguished by Sa`dī (_Gulistān_, ch. ii, story 17) from the
_aba_, or _abaya_, a kind of woollen cloak, either black or striped
brown and white, the garment of the poor.
_Page 15._ “The name of Bakhtyār,” that is, “he whom Fortune assists,”
or, “Fortune-befriended.”
_Page 16._ “The keys of the treasury” were of gold.
_Page 16._ “A splendid robe of honour.”—A _Khil`at_, or dress of honour,
is bestowed by Eastern monarchs on men of learning and genius, as well
as on tributary princes on their accession to their principalities, and
on viceroys and governors of provinces. The custom is very ancient; see
Esther vi, 8, 9. “A common _Khil`at_,” says Morier, “consists of a Kāba,
or coat; a _Kemerbend_, or zone; a _gūch pīch_, or shawl for the head:
when it is intended to be more distinguishing, a sword or a dagger is
superadded. To persons of distinction rich furs are given, such as a
_Katabī_, or a _Koordī_; but when the _Khal`at_ is complete it consists
exactly of the same articles as the present which Cyrus made to
Syennesis, namely: a horse with a golden bridle; a golden chain; a
golden sword[33]; besides the dress, which is complete in all its
parts.”[34]—In India an elephant and a palanquin splendidly decorated
are added to the dress, sword, &c. Dr Forbes, in a note to his
translation of the _Bāgh o Bahār_ (Garden and Spring), the Hindustani
version of the entertaining Persian romance, _Kissa Chehar Dervish_, or
Tale of the Four Dervishes, remarks that “in the zenith of the Mogul
empire Khil`ats were expensive honours, as the receivers were obliged to
make presents for the Khil`ats they received. The perfection of these
Oriental dresses,” he adds, “is to be so stiff with embroidery as to
stand on the floor unsupported.”—After Rustam’s Seven Adventures in
releasing Kai Kaus from the power of the White Giant, we read in
Firdausī’s _Shāh Nāma_ (or Book of Kings) that he received from Kaus a
splendid Khil`at besides other magnificent presents. And in the _Romance
of `Antar_, King Zuhayr causes a great feast to be prepared to celebrate
the defeat of the tribe of Taï, which was chiefly due to the hero; at
which he presents `Antar with a robe worked with gold, girds on him a
trusty sword, and placing in his hand a pike of Khāta, and mounting him
on a fine Arab horse, proclaims him champion of the tribes of `Abs and
`Adnān.
_Page 16._ “There were Ten Viziers.”—“Wezeer,” says Lane, “is an Arabic
word, and is pronounced by the Arabs as I have written it, but the Turks
and Persians pronounce the first letter _V_. There are three opinions
respecting the etymology of this word. Some derive it from _wizr_ (a
burden), because the Wezeer bears the burden of the King; others, from
_wezer_ (a refuge), because the King has recourse to the counsels of his
Wezeer, and his knowledge and prudence; others, again, from _azr_ (back,
or strength), because the King is strengthened by his Wezeer, as the
human frame is strengthened by the back. The proper and chief duties of
a Wezeer are explained by the above, and by a saying of the Prophet:
‘Whosoever is in authority over Muslims, if God would prosper him, He
giveth him a virtuous Wezeer, who when he forgetteth his duty remindeth
him, and when he remembereth assisteth him; but if He would do
otherwise, He giveth him an evil Wezeer, who when he forgetteth doth not
remind him, and when he remembereth doth not assist him.’”—The Kur’ān
and the Sūnna (or Traditions) both distinctly authorise a sovereign to
select a Vizier to assist him in the government. The Prophet makes Moses
say (_Kur._ xx, 30): “Give me a counsellor [Ar. _Wezeer_] of my family,
namely Aaron my brother;” and again, in ch. xxv, 37: “We appointed him
[Moses] Aaron his brother for a counsellor.” Wahidi, in his commentary
on the Kur’ān, says: “Wezeer signifies _refuge_ and _assistance_.” In
the fourth year of his mission Muhammad assumed the prophetic office,
when “he prepared a banquet, a lamb, as it is said, and a bowl of milk,
for the entertainment of forty guests of the race of Hashem. ‘Friends
and kinsmen,’ said Muhammad to the assembly, ‘I offer you, and I alone
can offer, the most precious of gifts, the treasures of this world and
of the world to come. God has commanded me to call you to His service.
Who among you will _support my burthen_? Who among you will _be my
companion and my vizier_?’”—_Gibbon_, chap. 1.
King Āzādbakht, we see, had no fewer than _ten_ of such
“burden-bearers”; in chapter ix there is another King with ten viziers;
and in an ancient Indian romance referred to by El-Mas’ūdī in his
_Meadows of Gold and Mines of Gems_, the same number of viziers is given
to a king: “Shelkand and Shimas, or the Story of an Indian King and his
Ten Viziers”; in what is probably a modernised version of the same
romance, included in the _Thousand and One Nights_, under the title of
“King Jilāa, the Vizier Shimas, and their Sons,” there are however but
Seven Viziers—the number in most of the romances of the _Sindibād_
cycle. According to the learned Imam El-Jara’ī, cited by Lane, _ten_ is
the proper number of counsellors for any man: “It is desirable,” says
he, “for a man, before he enters upon any important undertaking, to
consult ten intelligent persons among his particular friends; or if he
have not more than five such friends, let him consult each of them
twice; or if he have not more than one friend, he should consult him ten
times, at ten different visits[35];—if he have not one to consult, let
him return to his wife and consult her, and whatever she advises him to
do, _let him do the contrary_, so shall he proceed rightly in his affair
and attain his object.”—This reminds me of a story told of Khōja
Nasru-’d-Dīn Efendī, the Turkish joker, who, wishing to make Timūr a
present of some fruit, consulted his wife as to whether he should take
him figs or quinces, and on her answering, “Oh, quinces, of course,” the
Khōja, reflecting that a woman’s advice is never good, took Timūr a
basket of figs; and when the emperor ordered his attendants to pelt the
Khōja on his bald pate with the ripe, juicy figs, he thanked Heaven that
he had not taken his wife’s advice: “for had I, as she advised, brought
quinces instead of figs, my head had surely been broken!”[36] This most
unjust estimate of women, so generally held by Muslims and giving rise
to such proverbial sayings as “women have long hair and short wits,” is
in accordance with the atrocious saying ascribed (falsely, let us hope)
to the Prophet: “I stood at the gate of Paradise, and lo! most of its
inmates were poor; and I stood at the gate of Hell, and lo! most of its
inmates were _women_!” Contrast this with the following passage from the
_Mahābharata_: “The wife is half the man; a wife is man’s dearest
friend; a wife is the source of his religion, his worldly profit, and
his love. He who hath a wife maketh offerings in his house. Those who
have wives are blest with good fortune. Wives are friends, who by their
gentle speech soothe ye in your retirement. In the performance of
religious duties they are as fathers; in your distresses they are as
mothers[37]; and they are a refreshment to those who are travellers in
the rugged paths of life.”
_Page 16._ “Indulged in the pleasures of wine.”—The Kur’ān prohibits the
use of wine and all other intoxicating liquors: “They will ask thee
concerning wine and lots; answer, in both there is great sin” (ch. ii,
216). Some of the early followers of the Prophet held this text as
doubtful, and continued to indulge in wine; but another text enjoins
them not to come to prayer while they are drunk, until they know what
they would say (ch. iv, 46). From this it would appear that Muhammad
“meant merely to restrain his followers from unbecoming behaviour, and
other evil effects of intoxication;” serious quarrels, however,
resulting from drinking wine, a text in condemnation of the practice was
issued: “Ye who have become believers! verily wine, and lots, and
images, and divining arrows are an abomination of the work of the Devil;
therefore avoid them that ye may prosper” (ch. v, 92).—Mills was
certainly in error in stating that “for ages before the preaching of the
Prophet of Mecca, wine was but little drunk either in Egypt or
Arabia.”[38] In the _Mu`allaqāt_, or Seven Poems suspended in the Temple
at Mecca, which present true pictures of Arabian manners and customs
during the century immediately preceding the time of Muhammad,
wine-drinking is frequently mentioned. Thus the poet `Amru calls for his
morning draught of rich hoarded wine, saying that it is the liquor which
diverts the lover from his passion, and even causes the miser to forget
his pelf; Lebeid says that he often goes to the shop of the
wine-merchant, when he spreads his flag in the air, and sells his wine
at a high price; and the poet-hero `Antar quaffs old wine when the
noontide heat is abated. However this may be, the law of the Kur’ān is
clear—believers are not allowed to drink intoxicating liquors. Yet it
would appear, from the tales of the _Thousand and One Nights_, that wine
was extensively drunk by the higher classes of Muslims in all countries
until a comparatively recent date; and assuredly the wine there
mentioned was not the harmless beverage which the Prophet indulged in
and permitted to his followers—“prepared by putting grapes or dry dates
in water to extract their sweetness, and suffering the liquor to ferment
slightly until it acquired a little sharpness or pungency”—since we read
in the story, for instance, of “The Three Ladies of Bagdād and the
Porter,” that wine was drunk to intoxication. The modern Persians
justify their occasional excessive wine-drinking by the remark: “there
is as much sin in a flagon as in a glass;”[39] and the Turks despise the
small glasses commonly used by Europeans in their potations.[40]
Cantemir, in his _History of the Othman Empire_, relates a curious story
of how Murād IV, the seventeenth Turkish Sultan (1622–1639), became a
drunkard:
Not content to drink wine in private, Murād compelled even the Muftis
and other ministers to drink with him, and also, by a public edict,
allowed wine to be sold and drunk by men of all ranks. It is said Murād
was led into this degrading vice by a man named Bakrī Mustafa. As the
Sultan was one day going about the market-place in disguise, he chanced
to see this man wallowing in the mud, almost dead drunk. Wondering at
the novelty of the thing, he inquired of his attendants what was the
matter with the man, who seemed to him a lunatic. Being told that the
fellow was drunk with wine, he wanted to know what sort of liquor that
was, of whose effects he was yet ignorant. Meanwhile Mustafa gets up,
and with opprobrious words bids the Sultan stand off. Astonished at the
man’s boldness, “Rascal!” he exclaimed, “dost thou bid me, who am the
Sultan Murād, be gone?”—“And I,” answered the fellow, “am Bakrī [_i.e._
the Drunkard] Mustafa, and if thou wilt sell me this city, I will buy
it, and then I shall be Sultan Murād, and thou Bakrī Mustafa.”—Murād
demanding where he would get the money to purchase such a city, Mustafa
replied: “Don’t trouble thyself about that; for, what is more, I will
buy, too, the son of a bond-woman.”[41] Murād agreed to this, and
ordered Mustafa to be taken to the palace. After some hours, the fumes
of the wine being dispersed, Mustafa came to his senses, and finding
himself in a gilded and sumptuous room, he inquired of those who
attended him: “What does this mean?—am I dreaming?—or do I taste of the
pleasures of Paradise?” They told him of what had passed, and of his
bargain with the Sultan. Upon this he fell into a great fright, well
knowing Murād’s fierce disposition. But necessity abetting his
invention, he declared himself on the point of death, unless he could
have some wine to restore his spirits. The keepers, that he might not
die before being brought into the Sultan’s presence, gave him a pot full
of wine, which he concealed in his bosom. On being ushered into the
audience-chamber, the Sultan commanded him to pay so many millions as
the price of the city. Taking the pot of wine from his bosom, Mustafa
said: “This, O Sultan, is what would yesterday have purchased Istambol.
And were you likewise possessed of this wealth, you would think it
preferable to the sovereignty of the universe.” Murād asked how that
could be. “By drinking of this divine liquor,” answered Mustafa,
offering the cup to the Sultan, who, from curiosity, took a large
draught, which, as he was unused to wine, immediately made him so drunk
that he fancied the world could not contain him. Afterwards growing
giddy, he was seized with sleep, and in a few hours waking with a
headache, sent for Mustafa, in a great passion. Mustafa instantly
appeared, and perceiving the case, “Here,” said he, “is your remedy,”
and gave him a cup of wine, by which his headache was presently removed,
and his former gladness restored. When this had been repeated two or
three times, Murād was by degrees so addicted to wine that he was drunk
almost every day. Bakrī Mustafa, his tutor in drunkenness, was admitted
among the privy-counsellors, and was always near the Sultan. At his
death Murād ordered the whole court to go into mourning, but caused his
body to be buried with great pomp in a tavern among the wine-casks.
After his decease the Sultan declared he never enjoyed one merry day;
and when Mustafa chanced to be mentioned he was often seen to burst into
tears, and to sigh from the bottom of his heart. “Seldom, if ever,”
moralises Cantemir, “has so much favour been obtained by the precepts of
virtue as Mustafa acquired by the dictates of vice.”
To return to the quotation at the beginning of this long note; that the
wine in which our young hero Bakhtyār indulged to such an extent as to
deprive him of his senses was _not_ a mild beverage, admits of no
question: again, in chapter viii, page 93, we find a King and his
favourite companion carousing together, until the former falls into a
drunken sleep.
_Page 18._ “How could a person bred up in a desert, and by profession a
robber, be fit for the society of a king?”—Sa`dī, the celebrated Persian
poet, in his _Gulistān_, or Rose-Garden, says: “No one whose origin is
bad ever catches the reflection of the good” (ch. i, tale 4); and again:
“How can we make a good sword out of bad iron? A worthless person cannot
by education become a person of worth;” and yet again: “Evil habits,
which have taken root in one’s nature, will only be got rid of at the
hour of death.” Firdausī, the Homer of Persia, in his scathing satire on
the Sultan Mahmūd of Ghazni, has the following remarks on the same
subject:
To exalt the head of the unworthy,
To look for anything of good from them,
Is to lose the thread which guideth your purpose,
And to nourish a serpent in your bosom.
The tree which is by nature bitter,
Though thou shouldst plant it in the Garden of Paradise,
And spread honey about its roots—yea the purest honey-comb,
And water it in its season from the Fountain of Eternity,
Would in the end betray its nature,
And would still produce bitter fruit.
If thou shouldst pass through the shop of the seller of amber
Thy garments will retain its odour;
If thou shouldst enter the forge of the blacksmith,
Thou wilt there see nothing but blackness.
That evil should come of an evil disposition is no wonder,
For thou canst not sponge out the darkness from the night.
Of the son of the impure man entertain no hope,
For the Ethiopian by washing will never become white.[42]
_Page 19._ “You have entered the recesses of my harem.”—Only husbands,
fathers, brothers, uncles, fathers-in-law, and very young boys are
_mahram_, or privileged to enter the apartments of women in Muslim
countries. The fact of the chief Vizier visiting the Queen in the harem
(page 19) should lead us to conclude, either that the story is of Indian
origin, or that the worthy minister was “a neutral personage”—not to put
too fine a point on it.
_Page 20._ “By a false testimony.”—Among the Muslims falsehood in
certain cases is not only allowed but commended. Even oaths of different
kinds are more or less binding. Expiation is permitted by law for an
inconsiderate oath, and, according to some, even for the violation of a
deliberate oath. The expiation consists in once feeding or clothing ten
poor men, liberating a slave or captive, or fasting three days. An
unintentional oath requires no expiation; but the swearing to a
falsehood can only be expiated by deep repentance.—_Lane._
* * * * *
In Cazotte’s French rendering—or rather, adaptation—of the Arabian
version of this work, under the title of “The Story of King Bohetzad and
his Ten Viziers,” the name of the young hero is not Bakhtyār, but
Aladdin—properly, `Ala`u-’d-Dīn, “Exaltation of the Faith”; for
Sipahsālār there is a prime minister whose name is Asphand, and his
daughter, Baherjoa, was being conveyed, not to the Vizier, as in our
version, but to the Prince of Babylon, to whom she was to be married.
The order of the tales varies from that in the Persian work and two
additional tales are interpolated. There is one point, however, in which
this rendering, or version, is, I think, superior to the Persian,
namely, that while in the Bakhtyār-story we are told that after the King
recovered his throne and kingdom, he and the Queen “passed their days in
tranquillity, interrupted only by the remembrance of their child, whom
they had left in the desert, and whom, they were persuaded, wild beasts
must have devoured the same hour in which they abandoned him,” but they
do not appear to have taken any steps to ascertain his fate;—in
Cazotte’s version trusty messengers are despatched far and wide to
learn, if possible, tidings of the child, though without success. This
is but natural, and what we should expect, particularly on the part of
an Eastern monarch, from the well-known affection of Asiatics for their
male offspring, which are considered as the light or splendour of the
house; and if it be an interpolation by Cazotte—one of the
“disfigurements” of which he is accused by Deslongchamps[43]—it is very
decidedly an improvement on his original.—Bohetzād’s kingdom is called
Dineroux, “which comprehends all Syria, and the Isles of India lying at
the mouth of the Persian Gulf;” his capital is Issessara. One or two
other points of difference may also find a place here. In our
translation, when the royal fugitives abandoned their infant in the
desert, “their hearts were afflicted with anguish;” but in Lescallier’s
French rendering, the King is represented as exclaiming, on this
occasion: “O my dear infant! thy father sheds rivers of tears from his
eyes, because of thy absence, like the father of Joseph the Egyptian,
when his son was departed from the land of Canaan!”—while according to
Cazotte: “Great God!” cried the afflicted mother, bedewing her babe with
her tears, “who didst watch over the safety of young Ishmael, preserve
this innocent babe!” The reference to Ishmael is possibly an alteration
by the Arabian translator.—It is not, as in the Persian work, the King
of Kirmān of whom the fugitive pair seek protection and assistance, but
Kassera, King of Persia—no doubt, meaning Khusrū (called by the Greeks
Chosroes), the general title of the Persian Kings of the Sassanian
dynasty, thus, Khusrū Parvīz, Khusrū Nushirvān. He furnishes Bohetzād
with an immense army for the recovery of his kingdom, and the Queen
(Baherjoa) remains under his protection until Bohetzād should have
punished his rebellious Vizier. But meanwhile the King of Persia becomes
deeply enamoured of the beauteous Baherjoa; and when envoys arrive from
Bohetzād to bring back the Queen, Khusrū’s first impulse is to refuse to
deliver her up, but at length better feelings prevail over his passion,
and he restores her to the envoys in a magnificent litter, and with
numerous female attendants.
NOTES ON CHAPTER II.
_Page 22._ “Rooted out of the soil of his empire;” the text adds, “as an
example to evil-doers.”
_Page 22._ “On the eve of my departure from this world,” &c. The text
reads: “But the law of God hath commanded that an innocent person should
exculpate and exert himself in his own defence. God, the Most Holy and
the Most High (_hakk subhānāhu wa ta`āla_), knows that I am innocent of
these suspicions” [or allegations].
_Page 23._ Bakhtyār saluted the Pādishāh, and spoke out with fluency and
eloquence.
_Page 23._ Basra.—Situated on the Shattu-’l-`Arab (the river of the
Arabs—the united stream of the Tigris and the Euphrates), Basra is the
principal port in the Persian Gulf, and is so named from the white
stones (_basra_) near and around it. Renowned for its school of grammar,
the Arabic dual _al-basratān_ (the Two Basras) denotes the rival seats
of learning, Basra and Kūfa.—See D’Herbelot, art. _Coufeh._—Built by the
command of the pious Khalif `Omar, A.H. 15 (A.D. 636), it was called
“the land of purity,” never having been polluted by any idolatrous
worship. Irrigated by the river Ayla, which falls into the Tigris close
to it, its gardens are so fruitful that it is reckoned one of the four
earthly paradises of Asia—the other three being the valleys of Shīrāz,
Damascus, and Samarkand.
_Page 23._ “And the Merchant thought”—the text has “that a voyage by sea
and land might jeopardise life and property, but by laying out what
remained,” &c.—The antipathy of the Persians to a sea-voyage is well
known, and very distinctly professed by the poet Hāfiz. “He had heard of
the munificent encouragement which Sultan Mahmūd Shāh Bahamī, an
accomplished prince then reigning in the Dek’han, afforded to poets and
learned men, and became desirous of visiting his court. Hearing of this
wish, and desirous himself of forming an acquaintance with Hāfiz, Sultān
Mahmūd sent him, through the hands of his vizier, Mīr Fazlu’llāh Anjū,
an invitation and a handsome sum of money to defray the expenses of his
journey. Thereupon he set out and advanced on his expedition as far as
Lār. There he encountered a friend who had been plundered by robbers, on
whom he bestowed a part of his money, and not having left himself
sufficient to prosecute his journey, was compelled to accept the
assistance of two merchants whom he fortunately met with there, and who
kindly took him with them to Hurmuz. There he found a ship ready to sail
to the Dek’han, and took his passage in her. But a storm having arisen,
he was so terrified by it, that he abandoned his intention, and sending
a letter of excuse to the vizier, with an ode to the King, returned
himself to Shīrāz. He says:
“The splendour of a Sultan’s diadem, within which, like a casket
enclosed, are fears for one’s life,
May be heart-attracting as a cap, but is not worth the loss of the head
it covers.
· · · · ·
The sufferings of the sea may appear easy to bear in the prospect of its
pearls;
But I have erred, for its waves are not worth one hundred munns of
gold.”[44]
_Page 24._ “Most of the houses were washed away.”—Probably owing to the
non-adhesive qualities of the mortar generally employed in the
construction of Persian houses: a mixture, half of mud, one fourth of
lime, and the rest ashes of burnt straw and rubbish.
_Page 25._ “Trees and running streams.”—The dryness of the Persian
climate and the deficiency of rivers have exercised in ancient
(_Polybius_, lib. 10, 25) as in modern times the ingenuity of the
natives in the discovery of springs.—In the Story of Abū Temām (page 98)
a city is also described as “adorned with gardens and running streams.”
It was a saying of Muhammad that “three things fortify the sight:
looking at verdure, at running water, and at a handsome face.”
_Page 25._ Dihkān is a compound word, from _dih_, a village, and _khān_,
lord, or chief.
_Page 25._ “Erected a summer-house”—the text adds, “and on it a lofty
watch-tower.”
_Page 25._ “The stranger was entertained with politeness and
hospitality.”—The Kur’ān (iv, 40) enjoins the believer to “serve God ...
and show kindness unto ... your neighbour who is a _stranger_ ... and
the traveller” (_ibnu-’s sabīl_: son of the road). The practice of
hospitality among the pre-Islamite Arabs is too well known to require
more than passing mention, and reference to Professor Lee’s note on Job
xxi, 16.
_Page 25._ “A suit of his clothes”; his own _jubba_ and _dastār_. The
_jubba_ is a vest with cotton quilted between the outside and the
lining; the _dastār_ is the sash, or fine muslin cloth, wrapped round
the turban.
_Page 25._ “Account of his property” &c.—signet, chattels, and
ledger—“and said, ‘you must manifest your zeal in the seasons of sowing
and of harvest, and become the _mushrif_ of my property.’” A _mushrif_
is an officer of the treasury, who authenticates accounts and writings.
The _dihkān_ gave him his signet, in order that he might transact his
business with full authority. “Seals, or signets,” says Dr H. H. Wilson,
“were from the earliest periods commonly used in the East. Ahasuerus
takes his signet off his hand and gives it, first to Haman, and again to
Mordecai; and Herodotus notices that each of the Babylonians wore a
seal-ring. The Greeks and Romans had their rings curiously engraved with
devices, and that cast by Polycrates into the sea was the work of an
engraver whose name the historian has thought not unworthy of
commemoration. The use of the seal amongst the Orientals at the present
day is not, as with us, to secure an envelope, but to verify letters and
documents in place of a written signature. Amongst the natives of
Hindūstān, both Muhammadan and Hindū, the seal is engraved with the name
of the wearer, and the surface being smeared superficially only with
ink, the application of the seal to the paper leaves the letters which
are cut in the stone white on a black ground. Such also was the manner
in which the seals of the Greeks and Romans were applied.” Lane, in his
_Modern Egyptians_, says: “On the little finger of the right hand is
worn a seal-ring (_Khātim_), which is generally of silver, with a
cornelian, or other stone, upon which is engraved the wearer’s name; the
name is accompanied by the words ‘his servant’—signifying the servant,
or worshipper, of God—and often by other words expressive of the
person’s trust in God, &c. (see St. John’s Gospel iii, 33, and Exodus
xxxix, 30). The Prophet disapproved of gold; therefore few Muslims wear
gold rings; but the women have various ornaments (rings, bracelets &c.)
of that precious metal. The impression of the seal-ring is considered as
more valid than the sign-manual. Therefore giving the ring to another
person is the utmost mark of confidence.—See Genesis xli, 42.”
_Page 27._ “Bit the finger of amazement.”—Biting the hand or finger is a
common mode in the East of manifesting surprise, grief, or anger. Thus
in the Kur’ān, xxv, 29: “On that day the unjust person shall bite his
hands for anguish;” and iii, 119: “When they assemble together privately
they bite their fingers’-ends out of wrath against you.” In the
_Gulistān_ of Sa`dī, i, 4: “The King seized the hand of amazement with
his teeth;” again, v, 19: “Thine enemy bites the back of his hand
through vexation;” and again, vii, 19: “The fingers of astonishment were
between their teeth.” In one of the beautiful poems of Bahāu-’d-Dīn
Zuhayr, of Egypt (A.D. 1186–1258), elegantly translated by Professor E.
H. Palmer:
When she passed me without speaking, I declare,
I could almost bite my hand off with despair.
And in the Turkish poem of _Khusrev and Shīrīn_, by Shayki, _ob._ A.D.
1426 (Mr Gibb’s _Ottoman Poems_, p. 6):
No power was left him, neither sport nor pleasure,
He bit his finger, wildered beyond measure.
_Page 27._ “Driven forth from the village”; the text adds; “and they
deprived him of whatever they had given.”
_Page 27._ “For the sake of God:” a common phrase among Muslims. A
rather humorous example of its use occurs in the _Gulistān_ (chap, iv,
tale 14): A harsh-voiced man was reading the Kur’ān in a loud tone. A
pious man passed by him, and said: “What is thy monthly
stipend?”—“Nothing,” he replied.—“Why then,” he inquired, “dost thou
give thyself all this trouble?”—“I read _for the sake of God_,” he
replied.—“For God sake, then, _don’t read_,” said he.
_Page 27._ “A pearl of such exquisite beauty,” &c.—In the East it is
popularly believed that the pearl is formed in the oyster from a
rain-drop: Sa’dī, in the fourth book of his _Bustān_, has some beautiful
verses on this notion, in which he inculcates the practice of humility.
Pearls are called _marvārīd_, “production of light,” and, usually when
they are unpierced, _lū’lū’_, “luminous,” “brilliant.” They are divided
into twelve classes, each having a distinctive name, according to their
“water” or lustre; the first class being called _shahvār_, “the regal,”
the clearest, purest, and most lustrous. Pearls are also divided into
twelve classes, according to shape. They are further divided, in respect
of size, into fifteen classes, according to the number of holes in the
different sieves through which they are passed, from the smallest, of
which twelve hundred weigh a _miskal_, up to the largest, of which forty
weigh a _miskal_. The best pearl-fisheries are at Ceylon, and in the
Persian Gulf, at Bahrayn, Kīsh, and Sharak; but the Arabian pearls are
less prized than the Indian. Their colour and quality are said to depend
on the bottom of the sea where they are produced: in black slime they
are dark; in shallow waters, yellowish.—Tavernier mentions a remarkable
pearl found at Katifa, in Arabia, the fishery probably alluded to by
Pliny (_Nat. Hist._ b. ix, c. 54), which he purchased for £10,000 of our
money! It is said to be now in the possession of the Shah of Persia.
_Page 28._ “He put three of the pearls into his mouth and the other
three among his clothes.”—It is customary for travellers and others in
the East to conceal their money and valuables about their clothes and in
the folds of their turbans. Many Oriental stories illustrate this
practice. For example, in the tale of the Poor Ropemaker (_Arabian
Nights_—vol. vi, of Jonathan Scott’s edition), he receives a sum of
money from a benevolent stranger, and having laid out a moiety of it in
material for his trade, he places the remainder within the folds of his
turban-cloth, but unluckily a bird snatches it off his head and flies
away with it. And in the Talmud there is a story of a poor Hebrew, named
Joseph, who paid great respect to the Sabbath. This man had a wealthy
neighbour, who was a firm believer in judicial astrology, and having
been told by a sagacious professor of the science that all his riches
should one day become the property of the Sabbath-observing Joseph, he
straightway sold his estate and invested the proceeds in a large
diamond, which he secretly sewed within his turban, and departed in a
vessel for some distant country—thus preventing, as he fondly imagined,
the verification of the astrologer’s prediction. But his precautions
were of no avail, for while standing on the deck of the vessel, a sudden
gust of wind carried his turban, with all his wealth, into the sea. What
became of the ruined man after this misfortune we are not informed. But
we are told that, some time after this accident, the pious Joseph went
to the market and bought a fish to furnish his table on the Sabbath eve.
On opening the fish, the diamond which his old neighbour had lost with
his turban was found in its stomach—and thus was the good man’s strict
observance of the Sabbath rewarded, and the astrologer’s prediction
fulfilled to the letter.
_Page 28._ The unlucky Merchant’s adventure with the covetous and
dishonest jeweller finds a curious parallel in an incident in the “Story
of the Jackal, the Barber, and the Brāhman,” one of the charming fairy
tales in Miss Frere’s _Old Deccan Days_. The poor Brāhman, however,
though robbed of the precious stones he offers to the jeweller for sale,
escapes home all safe, unlike the Merchant of our story. Possibly the
incident in both tales had a common origin;—yet the “roguery of
villanous man” (to employ _honest_ Jack Falstaff’s phrase) is pretty
much alike in all ages and countries!
_Page 29._ “They distributed some money among those who were
confined.”—Alms are recommended in many passages of the Kur’ān: “Pay
your legal alms,” ii, 43; “alms are to be distributed to the poor and
the needy ... for the redemption of captives, insolvent debtors, and,
for religion’s sake, unto the traveller,” ix, 53, 60. Alms are of two
kinds: (1) obligatory (or _zakāt_), ii, 172; and (2) voluntary (or
_sadakāt_), as in the present instance. In scripture we find a trace of
the same doctrine: see Daniel iv, 27. The Khalif `Omar Ibn
`Abdu-’l-`Azīz used to say: “_Prayer_ carries us half-way to God;
_Fasting_ brings us to the door of the palace; and _Alms_ procure us
admission.” And assuredly no Eastern moralist has more frequently or
more impressively and beautifully inculcated the duty of alms-giving and
of liberality than Sa`dī. He tells us in the _Gulistān_, ii, 49, that on
the monument of Bahrām Gūr, a famous Persian King, was written: “The
liberal hand is better than the strong arm;” and adds: “Distribute in
alms the tithe of thy wealth; for the more the husbandman loppeth off
the exuberance of the vine, the more it will yield of grapes.” And in
his _Bustān_, or Fruit-Garden, b. ii, he says: “Bestow thy gold and thy
wealth while they are thine; for when thou art gone they will be no
longer in thy power.... Distribute thy treasure readily to-day, for
to-morrow the key may no longer be in thy hand.... Exert thyself to cast
a covering over the poor, that God’s own veil may be a covering for
thee.”[45]
_Page 30._ “When he had related the story of the Merchant and of the
pearls which they had given him”—the text adds, “and the other five
divers had confirmed what he said.”
_Page 30._ “He was then led away to execution; and the King caused to be
proclaimed throughout the city,” &c. So, too, in the _Thousand and One
Nights_, the Barber relates how his Fourth Brother was punished with a
hundred lashes, “after which they mounted him upon a camel, and
proclaimed before him: ‘This is the recompense of him who breaketh into
men’s houses.’” Morier, in his _Second Journey_, gives a graphic
description of the punishment of Muhammad Zamān Khān, governor of
Astrābād, who, in 1814, “entered into a league with the Turkmāns,
disavowed the King’s authority, and even made pretensions to the royal
power and prerogative.” The King offered a reward for his capture; and
the people of Astrābād surrounded the traitor’s palace, forced their way
into the room where he was seated, seized and bound him, and carried him
before the King. “When he had reached the camp, the King ordered the
chief of his camel-artillery to put a mock-crown upon the rebel’s head,
armlets on his arms, a sword by his side; to mount him upon an ass, with
his face towards the tail and the tail in his hand; then to parade him
throughout the camp, and to proclaim: ‘This is he who wished to be
King!’ After this was over, and the people had mocked and insulted him,
he was brought before the King, who called for the looties and ordered
them to turn him into ridicule by making him dance and perform antics
against his will. He then ordered that whoever chose might spit in his
face. After this he received the bastinado on the soles of his feet,
which was administered by the chiefs of his own tribe; and some time
after he had his eyes put out.—The strong coincidence,” adds Morier,
“between these details and the most awfully affecting part of our own
scripture history is a striking illustration of the permanence of
Eastern manners.”
_Page 30._ “Appointed him keeper of the treasury.”—The sudden elevation
of persons from a humble and even distressed condition to places of
great dignity and wealth has ever been a characteristic of the absolute
monarchs of Eastern countries, as well as the degradation and ruin,
frequently from mere caprice, and seldom with any justification, of men
of the highest rank. The most remarkable instance of the many which
Oriental history presents is the execrable conduct of the Khalif
Hārūnu-’r-Rāshīd, so undeservedly celebrated in the _Thousand and One
Nights_, in murdering his principal Vizier Ja`far and utterly ruining
the other members of the noble house of Barmak (the Barmecides of our
common translation of the _Arabian Nights_), all of whom were as famed
for their unbounded liberality as for their brilliant abilities. An
interesting account of the Barmakis and their ruin is given in Dr
Jonathan Scott’s _Tales, Anecdotes, &c., from the Arabic and Persian_.
_Page 32._ “Put out the Merchant’s eyes.”—A too common and barbarous
punishment in the East. In Turkey a needle was used for this purpose in
the case of state prisoners. The Arabian poet-hero `Antar is said to
have blinded his implacable and treacherous enemy Wezār by passing a
red-hot sword-blade close before his eyes. Years afterwards the blinded
chief executed poetical justice by slaying `Antar with a poisoned arrow,
which he shot at him on the bank of the Euphrates.
* * * * *
In Cazotte’s version this story is entitled “The Obstinate Man,” perhaps
more appropriately than our “Ill-fated Merchant,” since his own
wrong-headedness was the main cause of his misfortunes. His place of
abode is Bagdād, not Basra. The divers give him _ten_ pearls. The
jeweller, having been lately robbed of some pearls, believes Kaskas
(such is the man’s name) to be the thief, and accordingly he accuses
him; and when the latter is proved to be innocent, the jeweller is
punished with two hundred blows of the bastinado. The catastrophe is
very differently related: One day he observed in the apartment which had
been assigned to him, a door walled-up and concealed by a slight
covering of mastic, which was now so much wasted by the effects of time
that it crumbled into dust on the slightest touch. Without any exertion
of strength, he opened this door and entered unthinkingly into a rich
apartment entirely unknown to him, but which he found to be in the
interior of the palace. Hardly had he advanced two or three steps when
he was perceived by the chief of the eunuchs, who instantly reported
what he had seen to the King. The monarch came immediately to the spot.
The fragments of the mastic remained upon the ground to show that the
door had been forced open, and the stupid amazement of Kaskas completed
the appearance of his guilt. “Wretch!” said the King, “dost thou thus
repay my favours? My justice saved thee, when I believed thee innocent;
now thou art guilty, and I condemn thee to lose thy sight.” The
imprudent Kaskas durst not even attempt to justify himself, but was
immediately delivered into the hands of the executioner, of whom the
only favour he asked was, that he would give him his eyes when he had
torn them from their sockets.[46] He went groping through the streets of
the capital with them in his hands, crying: “Behold, all ye good people
who hear me, what the unfortunate Kaskas has gained by striving against
the decrees of Destiny, and despising the advice of his friends!”
NOTES ON CHAPTER III.
_Page 33._ “Expressed many apprehensions.”—The text gives the address of
the Third Vizier as follows: “I am apprehensive lest the affair of
Bakhtyār should be known in the out-lying provinces of the world
[kingdom], and reaching the ears of sovereigns, occasion scandal, an
evil repute arise therefrom. Before this story of Bakhtyār become the
common talk, it is expedient to put him to death.”
_Page 33._ “He petitioned for mercy:” he cried,
_al-amān!_—quarter!—pardon! Byron’s couplet in the _Giaour_ has rendered
this word familiar to English readers:
Resigned carbine or ataghān,
Nor ever raised the craven cry, _Amaun!_
_Page 33._ “If a king punish without due investigation.”—A Hindū
dramatist says:
Though the commands of royalty pervade
The world, yet sovereigns should remember,
The light of justice must direct their path.
And Sa`di, in his _Bustān_, b. I, regarding the duties of a king, says:
“If thou sheddest blood, it must not be done without a decree.” But
there is too much reason to believe that Eastern monarchs have seldom
been guided by the law in administering punishment. Many of the Muslim
princes of Northern Africa, in particular, have slain even favourite
attendants, from sheer wantonness and love of bloodshed.
_Page 34._ Aleppo.—The Berica of the Greeks; Aleppo is the Italian form
of _Hālab_, the native name. On the fall of Palmyra, Hālabu-’s-Shabha
(Hālab the ash-coloured) became the grand emporium for the productions
of Persia and India, conveyed by caravans from Bagdād and Basra to be
shipped at Iskenderūn, or Latakia, for the different ports of Europe.
Under the Greek sovereigns of Syria, Aleppo acquired great wealth and
consequence, and flourished still more under the Roman Emperors. An
aqueduct, constructed before the time of Constantine, conveys a
plentiful supply of water from the springs; and the mosques Jāmī,
Zacharī, and Halawé, originally Christian churches, are fine specimens
of the ancient Roman style, the latter built by the Empress Helena. To
the peculiar quality of the water of the Kuwayk (ancient Chalus), which
irrigates its far-famed gardens, is ascribed the ring-worm
(_hābala-’s-sina_), which attacks the natives once in their lives, and
leaves an indelible scar, which distinguishes an Aleppine throughout the
East. In 1797 Aleppo was the victim of the plague, and of earthquakes in
1822 and 1830.
_Page 34._ “Protected strangers.”—The text reads: “A friend of the
stranger; who never at any time injured any person, deemed all injustice
improper, and never deprived any one of aught.”
_Page 34._ “A son named Bih-zād,” meaning “well-born,” “legitimate.”
_Page 35._ “A magnificent litter”—the text adds, “and the curtains of
the litter were thrown back;”—thus the youth was able to obtain a view
of the lady’s beauty.
_Page 35._ “When the young man had advanced thus far in his narrative;”
the lithographed text says, “when the boon companion had described the
lady.”—Readers familiar with Oriental fictions will probably recollect
many instances of princes and others becoming enamoured, not only at
sight of the portrait of a beautiful woman, but at the mere description
of her charms: in such celebrated collections of tales as the _Arabian
Nights_, the Persian Tales ascribed to the Dervish Mokles of Isfahān,
and the _Bahār-i-Danish_ (Spring of Knowledge) of `Ināyatu-’llah of
Dihli. In the Bedawī _Romance of `Antar_, a noble `Absian named Amara,
“a conceited coxcomb, very particular in his dress, fond of perfumes,
and always keeping company with women and young girls,” having heard of
the beauty of Abla, sends a female slave to the tents of her family to
discover whether the damsel was as beautiful as was reported of her; and
the girl returning with a glowing account of Abla’s charms, the Bedawī
exquisite immediately conceives a violent passion for her—“his ears fell
in love before his eyes.”—There is at least one instance on record of a
European becoming enamoured from imagination; in the case of Geoffrey
Rudel, the gallant troubadour, who fell desperately in love with the
Countess of Tripoli, from a description of her beauty and
accomplishments: but see the story in Warton’s _History of English
Poetry_.
_Page 35._ “The city of Rūm, the capital and residence of the Kaisar, or
Greek Emperor”: Constantinople.—The signification of “Rūm” is very
vague, as it may denote Rome, the Turkish Empire, Greece, or Rumelia
(Rūm Eyli). The Persians called the chief of the Seljukī dynasty at
Konia (_i.e._ Iconium), Kaisar-i-Rūm. D’Herbelot defines the term Rūm as
applicable to the countries which the Romans, and afterwards the Greeks
and Turks, subdued under their domination. “Roumy [Rūmī],” observes
Burckhardt, “is a word applied by the Arabs to the Greeks of the Lower
Empire, and afterwards to all Christians.” (_Travels in Nubia_, App. n.
iii.) The Persian proverb, _Ez Rūm ta Shām_, “from Rūm to Syria,” is
quoted to indicate an extent of territory. Kaisar (Cæsar, whence Czar)
was the general title of the sovereigns of the Lower Empire, as Khusrū
was that of the Persian Kings of the Sassanian dynasty.
_Page 36._ “Prince Bihzād immediately arose, and hastened to the house
of the Vizier, and said,” &c.—The following is a close translation of
this passage as given in the lithographed text:
“You must go this moment and tell my father, Bihzād says thus: ‘Thou
dost not turn thine eye upon me and hast not any care for me. There is
no mortal in the world to whom a wife should not be given; if thou
carest for me, you would bestow on me a help-mate.’” The Vizier replied:
“Your order I obey;” then rose up and went to the King’s palace, asked
for an audience, and reported to the King all that Bihzād had said. The
King said: “Bihzād has fallen in love; say to him, ‘This wish is in my
thoughts; but I have paused until I could discover some companion for
thy sake; but if there be a longing for any one, speak out that I may
give it my attention—that I may effect a settlement, and bring this thy
desire within thy embrace.’”—The Vizier returned, and repeated to Bihzād
what the King had said, to which Bihzād replied: “Go and tell my father
that the Kaisar of Rūm has a daughter, Nigārīn[47] by name; he must send
ambassadors and demand the daughter on my behalf.” The Vizier returned
and told the King, who became unhappy.
_Page 37._ “The Vizier returned to Bihzād, and delivered him this
message from his father.”—The lithographed text says:
When Bihzād perceived that the King showed no eagerness in asking for
the lady, he said to the Vizier: “If the King will not demand the
daughter for me, I will leave the country.” The Vizier said: “I will go
and speak to the King to that effect.” He went, and repeated according
to Bihzād’s words. The King loved his son to excess, and seeing no
resource, sent ambassadors to the Kaisar of Rūm. When the ambassadors
arrived at the capital of Rūm, and the news reached the King, he
commanded an _istikbāl_, and that they should enter the city with all
due honours and respect. The next day the Kaisar invited the ambassadors
to a _durbar_. When they came before the King and had bowed their faces
to the ground, they delivered the message of the Shāh of Aleppo. The
King said: “Maybe the wealth [dominion, power?] of the Kaisar does not
enter into your [mind’s] eye;—you must be brief and laconic, and utter
this reply: ‘One hundred lacs of dīnars is the covenant of my daughter’s
hand; whoever will give one hundred lacs of dīnars, to him will I give
my daughter.’ Thus he spake; then rising up, dismissed the ambassadors.”