even the name of slavery is to a European, and especially to a Briton,
it must not be supposed that the condition of slaves in Muhammadan
countries bears any resemblance to that of the slaves in the Southern
States of North America, before their emancipation, with which such
works as _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_ used to harrow up our souls. On the
contrary, Muslims are enjoined by their religion to be, and, as a
general rule, really are (all things considered), kind and even
indulgent to their slaves. Sir John Malcolm (an excellent authority)
remarks: “Slaves are not numerous [in Persia], and cannot be
distinguished by any peculiar habits or usages from the other classes,
further than that they are generally more trusted and more favoured by
their superiors. The name of slave in this country may be said to imply
confidence on one part and attachment on the other. They are mostly
Georgians or Africans; and being obtained or purchased when young, they
are usually brought up in the Muhammadan religion. Their master, who
takes the merit of their conversion, appropriates the females to his own
harem, or to the service of his wives; and when the males are at a
proper age, he marries them to female slaves in the family, or to free
women. Their children are brought up in the house, and have a rank only
below relations. In almost every family of consequence the person in
whom the greatest trust is reposed is a house-born slave; and instances
of their betraying their charge, or abusing the confidence that is
placed in them, are very rare.”[84] A curious story is related in the
Talmud, of a man making his will in favour of his slave, although he had
a son whom he loved fondly. This man, residing at some distance from
Jerusalem, had sent his son to the Holy City to “complete his education”
(to employ an absurd colloquial phrase for the nonce); and dying during
his son’s absence, he bequeathed his entire estate to one of his slaves,
on the condition that he should allow his son to select any one article
which pleased him for an inheritance. Surprised and naturally angry at
such gross injustice on the part of his father, in preferring a slave
for his heir instead of himself, the young man sought counsel of his
preceptor, who, after carefully considering the terms of the will, thus
explained its meaning and effect: “By this action thy father has simply
secured thy inheritance to thee. To prevent his slaves from plundering
the estate before thou couldst formally claim it, he left it to one of
them, who, believing himself to be the owner, would take good care of
the property. Now, what a slave possesses belongs to his master; choose,
therefore, the slave for thy portion, and then possess all that was thy
father’s.” The young man followed this advice, took possession of the
slave, and thus of his father’s wealth, and then gave the slave his
freedom, together with a considerable sum of money.[85]—“The manners of
Asia,” says Richardson, “seem in all ages to have pointed to domestic
slavery; and Muhammad, in Arabia, made that an article of religion which
had anciently been only a custom. The captives of war were, in
consequence, with few exceptions, constantly reduced to a state of
servitude; and little distinction seems in general to have been made
between a princess and her slave; excepting what she derived from a
superiority of personal accomplishments. These ideas the Arabians
entertained amidst their extensive conquests. Many instances might be
given, but two will suffice, as they were daughters of the two greatest
princes in the world. In an action after the siege of Damascus, in A.D.
635, amongst other prisoners was the daughter of Heraclius, emperor of
Greece, and widow of the governor of that city. Rasi, the Arabian
commander, to whose lot she fell, presented her without ceremony as a
slave to Jonas, a Grecian, who had embraced the Muhammadan religion; but
Jonas, from a principle of honour, returned her, with all her jewels,
unransomed to her father. When the Arabians conquered Persia, Shīrīn
Bānū, the daughter of the King Yazdejird, was one of the captives, and
was publicly exposed to sale in the city of Madīna; but the
liberal-minded `Alī thought differently from his countrymen on this
occasion; he declared that the offspring of princes ought not to be
sold, and married her immediately to his son.”[86]—The lot of women in
Arabia before the time of Muhammad was at the best a hard one, and it
certainly underwent no improvement when they happened to be taken
captive in any of the frequent tribal wars. (The brutal treatment of the
beauteous Abla, in the _Romance of `Antar_, when she fell into the hands
of the chief of a tribe hostile to that of `Abs, is doubtless a faithful
picture of Arabian life in those times.) And there can be no question
that the cruel and unnatural practice which prevailed among the
pre-Islamite Arabs of burying alive their new-born female children had
its origin in a desire to save them from the hardships they were so
likely to encounter when grown up. This practice seems to have been at
one time common to most of the nations of antiquity.
_Page 93._ “Several of the soldiers returned.”—They probably came to
report to the King that the enemy were in superior force, and that more
troops must be despatched to oppose them.
_Page 94._ “Day was beginning to dawn.” The text adds: “He performed the
morning-prayer (_namāz-i sabā_), at the time when [teaches the Kur’ān]
‘you can plainly distinguish a white thread from a black thread.’” The
Persians, who are _shī`a_ (unorthodox), prefer to “distinguish a white
horse from a gray horse.”
_Page 94._ “Say, King, shall I strike or not?”—It was customary, if I am
not mistaken, at the courts of some of the Khalifs or other Eastern
monarchs, for the executioner, after being ordered to decapitate a
culprit, to ask the King three times: “Shall I strike?”
_Page 95._ “It was the will of Heaven that they should fall into the
sea, where one of them perished, but the other was restored to us.”—The
unhappy couple could not bring themselves to confess that the father had
with his own hand tossed them into the water. There is something in this
that bears a resemblance to the answer of Joseph’s brethren when they
went down to Egypt to buy corn, and were arrested on suspicion of being
spies: “Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the
land of Canaan; and behold, the youngest is this day with our father,
and _one is not_.” (Gen. xlii, 13.)
_Page 96._ “Set at liberty all those who had been confined with him.”—To
the point is the following extract from the _Times_ newspaper, of
September 23, 1882, p. 8, col. 2: “The coronation of Czars is always
signalised by acts of imperial clemency, and in this respect the ukase
of Alexander II, on the 7th of September, 1856, remains honourable. It
granted a complete amnesty to all the political offenders of 1825–6, and
of the Polish rebellion of 1831, who were still in exile, or _in
prison_; also pardons to Press offenders, military defaulters, and to
about five thousand other individuals in gaols.”
NOTES ON CHAPTER IX.
_Page 97._ “The history of Abū Temām, and the envy of the envious.”—The
Muslim, in his daily prayers, says: “I fly for refuge unto the Lord of
the Daybreak; that He may deliver me from the mischief of the envious,
when he envieth.”—Kur`an cxiii. 5.
_Page 97._ Abū Temām.—Abū—literally, “Father”—has often the sense of
“endowed with,” or “possessed of,” and forms the figure called
“metonymy.” Thus, Abū Bakr, “father of the maid”—Muhammad’s
father-in-law and successor; Abū Hurayrat, “father of the kitten,” one
of Muhammad’s companions, so nicknamed by the Prophet, on account of his
having a pet cat.—Abū Temām signifies, “possessed of integrity.”
_Page 98._ “Any one possessed of above five direms”—equivalent to “any
one who had a sixpence.”—It is related of Mūlī Isma`īl, Emperor of
Morocco (who died in 1714), that when any of his subjects grew rich, in
order to keep him from being dangerous to the state, he used to send for
his goods and chattels. His governors of towns and provinces formed
themselves on the example of their dread monarch, practised rapine,
violence, extortion, and all the art of despotic government, that they
might the better send him their yearly presents: for the greatest of his
viceroys was in danger of being recalled or hanged if he did not remit
the bulk of his plunder to his sovereign. That he might make a right use
of these treasures, he took care to bury them under ground, by the hands
of his most trusty slaves, and then cut their throats, as the most
effectual method of securing secrecy. The following story will
illustrate his notions of property: Being upon the road, amidst his
life-guards, a little before the Ram feast, he met one of his kāzīs at
the head of his servants, who were driving a great flock of sheep to
market. The Emperor asked whose they were. The kāzī, with a profound
submission, answered: “They are mine, O Isma`īl, son of El-Sherīf.”
“Thine! thou wretch!” exclaimed Mūlī Isma`īl; “I thought I had been the
only proprietor in this country.” Upon which he ran him through the body
with his lance, and piously distributed the sheep among his guards for
the celebration of the feast. His determination of justice between man
and man will evince the blessings of his administration: A kāzī
complaining to him of a wife (whom he had received from his Majesty’s
hands, and therefore could not divorce her), that she used to pull him
by the beard, the Emperor ordered his beard to be plucked out by the
roots, that he might not be liable to any more such affronts. A farmer,
having accused some of his guards of having robbed him of a drove of
oxen, the Emperor shot the offenders; but afterwards demanding
reparation of the accuser for the loss of so many brave fellows, and
finding him insolent, he compounded the matter with him by taking away
his life.—One good thing he was celebrated for in the course of his long
reign, the clearing of the roads of robbers, with which they used to be
infested; but his method was to flay man, woman, and child that lived
within a certain distance of the district where a robbery was committed.
_Page 99._ “The erection of bridges, caravanserais, and mosques.”—It is
doubtful whether “caravanserais” be the correct rendering of the word
_ribāt_. It may denote one of the dome-shaped buildings (_kubba_),
having an oratory annexed, and an institution endowed for the
maintenance of students (_tālibān-i-`ilm_), who are to pass their lives
in reading and devotion.—Sa`dī, in his _Bustān_, b. i, says: “No one
hath come into the world for continuance, save him who leaveth behind
him a good name; nor hath any one died who hath left as an inheritance a
bridge, a mosque, a hostel, or an hospital. Whoever hath left no such
memorial behind him, his existence has been but that of a tree which
never bore fruit; and whoever hath departed and left no mark, his name
after his death will never be lauded.” The “erection of mosques” may
remind the reader of a passage in _Hamlet_, iii, 2: “There’s hope a
great man’s memory may outlive his life half a year; but, by’r Lady, _he
must build churches then_.”
_Page 99._ “His advice was followed in all matters of importance.”—The
text says: “he appointed him Grand Vizier” (_wazīr-i a`zam_).
_Page 99._ “This King had Ten Viziers, who conceived a mortal hatred
against Abū Temām,” &c.—See Note, pp. 137–9.—So too in Norse and other
European Folk-Tales, envious courtiers endeavour to ruin or destroy a
King’s favourite by inciting the monarch to set him to perform some
difficult and dangerous exploit, in which, however, he always succeeds.
_Page 100._ “Princess of Turkistān.”—Turān, Turkomania (or Transoxiana),
is the country which lies beyond the Jihūn, or Oxus. Under the names of
Irān and Turān the Eastern historians comprehend all the higher Asia,
excepting India and China; and sometimes they imply “the whole world.”
The Tātār nations in general have fine countenances, with large black
eyes. Of all the towns in Turkistān, Chighil is the most famous for
handsome men, expert archers, and beautiful maidens:
“The ringlets of the idols of Chighil
Are altogether the abode of the soul, and the dwelling of the
heart.”[87]
_Page 100._ “When the King heard the extravagant praises of her beauty
he became enamoured.”—See Note pp. 157–8.
_Page 101._ “When the King of Turkistān heard of Abū Temām’s arrival, he
sent proper officers to receive and compliment him.”—See third note, p.
131.—In Lescallier’s version the interview between the King and Abū
Temām is related in more detail, to the following effect:
Abū Temām, after presenting his credentials and paying his respects to
the King, informed him of the subject of his embassy. “The request which
the King your master makes for my daughter,” said the King of Turkistān,
“is for me a source of joy and happiness. But as it is to be feared that
my daughter is unworthy of the King your master, I desire you to enter
my harem to see her and to hear her speak, and to assure yourself if she
is capable of pleasing the sovereign who sends you. I will prepare my
daughter to receive you.” Abū Temām, who was full of cleverness and
discretion, replied to the King with the greatest politeness: “God
forbid, your Majesty, that my eyes should behold the Princess, or my
ears should dare to hear her voice! If she were not in all respects
worthy of the King my master, the Divine will would not have inspired
him with the desire of possessing her, nor enslaved his heart to her
perfections. My King did not send me with such instructions.” Abū Temām
had no sooner spoken these words than the King of Turkistān clasped him
in his arms with affection, and cried: “I regard thee as a father, for
thou freest my existence from a great burthen.” “O great King!” replied
Abū Temām, “since my happy star made me enter the service of my
sovereign, I have never experienced anything save benefits, kindness,
and peculiar favours. What is the difficulty that I can solve for your
Majesty? Let him command me.” “I was even now,” said the King, “busy
with the project of thy death, and thou hast happily escaped the
severity of my sharp sword. I shall tell thee the motive which urged me
to put thee to death, and how thou hast been delivered from that danger.
All the ambassadors who have come from different princes to ask my
daughter have received the same proposal which I made to thee, to enter
my harem, to judge of the beauty and perfections of the Princess; and
they all went in. I regarded the prudence and wisdom of these sovereigns
according to those of their ambassadors, and to punish their audacity I
put them all to death. This year four hundred ambassadors have been
beheaded. I preserve their heads in the room which thou wilt see.” Then
the King drew from his girdle a key, with which he opened the door of
that room, and showed to Abū Temām the four hundred heads of
ambassadors. He afterwards added: “The prudence which thou hast shown
has saved thy life. It has given me a good opinion of thy sovereign, and
I will grant him my daughter.”
Lescallier’s texts were probably in error in stating that the four
hundred ambassadors had all been put to death within a year. The
lithographed text, like that of Sir William Ouseley, gives us to
understand that the envoys had been beheaded in the course of years. In
Habicht’s Arabian text the King is represented as saying: “‘Come and
look into this well;’ and Abū Temām beheld a well filled with the heads
of the sons of Adam.”
_Page 103._ “The Ten Viziers finding ... their own importance and
dignity reduced,” &c.—How true to human nature, and how applicable to
the case of Abū Temām as well as to that of our young hero Bakhtyār, is
the “saying of the sage,” as cited in the _Anvār-i Suhailī_ (ii, 3):
“Whoever is unceasingly zealous in the service of the King quickly
reaches the rank of admission to his favour, and whoever has become the
intimate of the Sultan, all the friends and foes of the monarch become
his enemies: the friends, through envy of his post and dignity; and the
foes, by reason of his advising the King sincerely in matters of state
and religion.”
_Page 103._ “Whose office was to rub the King’s feet.”—The Arabs (says
Lane) are very fond of having their feet, and especially the soles,
slowly rubbed with the hand; and this operation, which is one of the
services commonly required of a wife or a female slave, is a usual mode
of waking a person; as it is also of lulling a person to sleep. Thus, in
the story of Maaroof (Lane’s _Arabian Nights_, iii, 721), “the damsel
then proceeded to rub and press gently the soles of his feet until sleep
overcame him.”
_Page 105._ “The King drew his scimitar, and cut off his head.”—Surely,
an instance of “haste and precipitancy”—with a _vengeance_! This despot
did not even acquaint his victim of the crime of which the lads had
accused him. It had been probably otherwise with Abū Temām had his royal
master shaped his conduct in “affairs of moment” after that of another
king, of whom we read, in the _Anvār-i Suhailī_ (xiii, 3), that in order
to moderate his anger, and judge cases like a king, a recluse gave him
three letters, which he was to place in the hands of a faithful and
confidential officer, who was to be permitted to read one of them to the
King when he beheld symptoms of anger in his countenance, and should
that not suffice to soothe his mind, the officer was to read the second
letter, and the third, if the second did not tame his rebellious spirit.
The contents of the three letters were to this effect: (1) While thou
still retainest the power, do not place the reins of choice in the grasp
of thy passions, for they will plunge thee into the whirlpool of
everlasting destruction. (2) In the time of wrath be merciful to those
in thy power, in order that in the hour of retribution thy superiors may
be merciful to thee. (3) In issuing thy commands do not overstep the
bounds of the law, and under no circumstances abandon what is just.
_Page 106._ “Their houses levelled with the ground.”—When a city was
solemnly destroyed by the Romans, the plough was drawn along where the
walls had stood. Thus Horace (Ode i, 16): “Rage has been the final
cause ... that an insolent army has driven the hostile ploughshare over
their walls.” Thus also we read in the sacred writings (Micah iii, 12):
“Therefore shall Zion for your sake be ploughed as a field;” and
likewise of salt being sown on the ground where cities stood (see Judges
ix, 45), indicating the last insult of a triumphant enemy. In allusion
to the usual practice of absolute Eastern monarchs wreaking their
vengeance not only on an offending minister, but also on his wife and
family, Sa`dī, in his _Bustān_, b. i, directs a king, in dealing with a
criminal, to slay him, if the law pronounce its decree; “but if thou
hast those who belong to his family, them forgive, and extend to them
thy mercy: the iniquitous man it was who committed the crime;—what was
the offence of his helpless wife and children?”
* * * * *
In Cazotte’s rendering of this story, under the corrupted title of Abou
Talmant, for a King of Turkistān is substituted a King of Cochin-China.
The plot for destroying the prudent minister by means of the prattle of
two young slaves in the King’s hearing is considerably amplified: the
malicious viziers having taught them to repeat some harem gossip while
the King was reposing, but not asleep, which, proving to be true,
prepared him to believe the false story of the Queen’s love for Abū
Temām. The King’s discovery of his favourite’s innocence is differently
related;—instead of his overhearing the two pages quarrel over the
division of the money, a day or two after Abū Temām had been put to
death, as in the Persian version—the King immediately returns to his
private chamber, and seeing the pieces of gold scattered on the floor,
sends for the pages, and compels them to tell the truth regarding their
possession of so much money. He then causes the _two_ Viziers to be
beheaded.
NOTES ON CHAPTER X.
_Page 107._ The King of Persia (_Shāh `Ajam_).—The term _`Ajam_
includes all who cannot speak Arabic, or who do not speak it with
elegance. Among the Arabs it applies to all people not of Arab
descent, and carries the same idea as Barbarians with the Greeks,
Gentiles with the Hebrews. Hence Persia is called `Ajamistān, the land
of the stranger, or barbarian. And so two famous Arabian poems are
distinguished respectively by the nationalities of their authors:
_Lāmiyyatu-’l-`Arab_, by the Arabian brigand-poet Shanfará, and
_Lāmiyyātu-’l-`Ajam_, by Et Tugrā`ī, a native of Isfahān: that is, the
L-Poem (from its rhyming in _lam_, or L) of the Arab, and the L-Poem
of the Foreigner.
_Page 108._ “Not having any child,” &c.—The desire of offspring, and
especially of male children, seems to have always been very strong among
Asiatics of all classes, and by Jews the want of children was considered
sufficient ground for divorce, as the following beautiful rabbinical
story will show: A man, it is related, brought his wife before Rabbi
Simon, expressing his desire to be divorced, since he had been married
over ten years without being blessed with children. The Rabbi at first
endeavoured to dissuade the man from his purpose, but finding him
resolute, he gravely addressed the pair thus: “My children, when you
were married did ye not make a feast and entertain your friends? Well,
since you are determined to be divorced, do likewise: go home, make a
feast, entertain your friends, and on the following day come to me and I
will comply with your wishes.” They returned home, and, in accordance
with the good Rabbi’s advice, the husband caused a splendid feast to be
prepared, to which were invited their friends and relations. In the
course of the entertainment, the husband, being gladdened with wine,
said to his wife: “My beloved, we have lived many happy years together;
it is only the want of children that makes me wish for a separation. To
convince thee, however, that I still love thee, I give thee leave to
take with thee out of my house whatever thou likest best.” “Be it so,”
answered his wife. The wine-cup was freely plied by the guests, and all
became merry, until at length many had fallen asleep, and amongst these
was the master of the house, which his wife perceiving, she caused him
to be carried to her father’s house and put to bed. Having slept off the
effects of his carouse, he awoke, and, finding himself in a strange
house, exclaimed: “Where am I?—how came I here?” His wife, who had
placed herself behind a curtain to await the issue of her little
stratagem, came up to him, and told him that he had no cause for alarm,
since he was in her father’s house. “In thy father’s house!” echoed the
astonished husband—“how should I come hither?” “I will soon explain, my
dear husband. Didst thou not tell me last night that I might take out of
thy house whatever I most valued? Now, my beloved, believe me, amongst
all thy treasures there is none I value so much as I do thyself.” The
sequel may be readily imagined: overcome by such devotion, the husband
affectionately embraced his wife, was reconciled to her, and they lived
happily together ever afterwards.[88]—Throughout the East, indeed, the
want of children is considered as a great disgrace. Readers of Oriental
romances, such as those contained in _Elf Layla wa Layla_, or The
Thousand and One Nights; _Bahār-i Dānish_, or the Spring of Knowledge,
and _Kissa-i Chehār Darvīsh_, or Tale of the Four Dervishes, will easily
call to mind the many stories of Khalīfs, Sultāns, Shāhs, Viziers, &c.
being childless, and of the pious and even magical means they adopted to
obtain the blessing of a son and heir.
_Page 108._ “In a dream.”—Muslims consider dreams as the predictions of
future events. Good dreams are believed to be from God, and false ones
from the Devil. “Whoever seeth me,” said the Prophet, “_in his sleep_,
seeth me truly; for Satan cannot assume the similitude of my
form.”—Lane’s _Thousand and One Nights_, iii, p. 512, _note_.
_Page 108._ “Was addressed by an old man,” &c.—According to Lescallier,
“by a genie, resplendent with light.”
_Page 109._ “The top of a mountain, from which he shall fall, rolling in
blood and clay.”—Lescallier’s rendering goes on to say: “He shall yet
escape the murderous teeth of that lion; and when he has attained his
twentieth year, he shall give you a wound, and put you to death.”
_Page 109._ “One of his Viziers eminently skilled in
astrology”—Lescallier adds, “assisted by many other astronomers.”—In
Eastern courts an astronomer would be held in disrespect if he did not
debase the truth of his science to the vain predictions of astrology
(_‘ilmu-’n-nujūn_). Every professional astrologer hangs an
astrolabe—which is not larger than the hollow of the hand—in a neat
case, at his girdle. Some have an astrolabe two or three inches in
diameter, which at a distance looks like a medal conferred on the wearer
as a mark of honour, or as an order of merit.[89] “A very slight
knowledge of astronomy,” says Sir John Malcolm, “is sufficient to allow
a Persian student to profess the occult science of judicial astrology.
If a person can take an altitude with an astrolabe, knows the names of
the planets and their different mansions, and a few technical phrases,
and understands the astrological almanacs that are annually published,
he deems himself entitled to offer his services to all who wish to
consult him; and that includes every person in Persia who has the means
to reward his skill. Nothing is done by a man of any consequence or
property without reference to the stars. If any measure is to be
adopted, if a voyage or journey is to be commenced, if a new dress is to
be put on—the lucky or unlucky moment must be discovered, and the
almanac and astrologer are consulted. A person wishing to commence a
journey will not allow a fortunate day to escape, even though he is not
ready to set out. He leaves his own house at the propitious moment, and
remains, till he can actually proceed, in some incommodious lodging in
its vicinity, satisfied that, by quitting his house, he has secured all
the benefit which the influence of good stars can afford him.”[90] When
Sir John Malcolm entered Tehrān as British Ambassador, the King’s
astrologer so timed the progress of the cavalcade that the “Elchī’s”
charger should put his foot over the threshold of the gate at the
precise lucky moment, which he had previously ascertained.
The Chaldeans were the first astrologers, and the so-called science was
sedulously cultivated and in high estimation among the Hindūs, the
Greeks, the Egyptians, and their Alexandrian disciples. Even the
illustrious Tycho Brahe was devoted to astrology from his early youth
until within a few years of his death, when he finally abandoned it as a
fallacy. At first, and for a very long period afterwards, astrology was
not separated into the two divisions or departments of _natural_
astrology, or observations of the regular motions of the heavenly bodies
(which is now termed _astronomy_), and _judicial_ astrology, or the
pretended science of foretelling events from observation of the relative
positions of the planets. Isidore of Seville, it is said, was the first
to distinguish between astronomy and astrology. The professors of
judicial astrology in Europe pretended—as those in Asiatic countries
still pretend—to be able to predict the destiny of any one who came to
consult them, by a process called _casting his horoscope_, which was
done by first ascertaining the precise hour of the person’s birth, and
the sign the sun was in at that time, and then drawing conclusions from
observation of the conjunction and relative position of the planets
towards each other. But European astrologers very frequently—probably as
a general rule—did not trouble themselves to “read the stars;” they were
for the most part accomplished physiognomists, and it may be said that
they usually contented themselves with telling fortunes by faces rather
than by the appearance of the heavenly bodies. There can be little doubt
that, with the exception of a few deluded individuals who thoroughly
believed in their own skill, those who professed a knowledge of
astrology were arrant impostors—cunning knaves, who traded on the
prevalent superstition and credulity of mankind in the days before
science began to shed its pure light.
El-Hajjāj, a general under the Khalīf El-Walīd I, consulted, in his last
illness, an astrologer, who predicted to him his approaching death. “I
rely so completely on your knowledge,” said El-Hajjāj to him, “that I
wish to have you with me in the next world, and I shall therefore send
you thither before me, in order that I may be able to employ your
services from the time of my arrival.” He then ordered the soothsayer to
be put to death, although the time fixed for this event by the planets
had not yet arrived.—Abū-’l-Ma`shar, the oracle of astrology, left in
writing, that he found the Christian religion, according to the
indications of the stars, should last but fourteen hundred years—he has
been belied by nearly five hundred years already.—Tiberius, when he was
at Rhodes, wished to satisfy his curiosity with respect to judicial
astrology. He sent, in succession, for all those who pretended to
foretell future events. One of his enfranchised slaves, of great stature
and extraordinary strength, conducted them to him through the
intricacies of the precipices. If Tiberius discovered that the
astrologer was a cheat, the slave, upon a given signal, immediately cast
him into the sea. At that time there was at Rhodes a man named
Trasullus, who was deeply skilled in astrology, and of a cunning
disposition. He was taken, in the same manner as the others, to this
retired spot, assured Tiberius that he should be Emperor, and revealed
to him many other events that should take place. Tiberius asked him if
he knew his own destiny, and if he had consulted his own horoscope.
Trasullus—who had had some suspicions when he did not see any of his
companions return, and felt his fears increase on viewing the
countenance of Tiberius, the man who had been his conductor (who did not
quit him for a moment), the elevated place where he stood, and the
precipice which lay beneath him—turned his eyes up to heaven, as if to
consult the stars; he immediately appeared fear-stricken, turned pale,
and exclaimed, in an apparent agony of terror, that he was menaced with
death. Tiberius was full of joy and admiration on hearing this reply,
ascribing to astrology what was only presence of mind and cunning,
cheered the spirits of Trasullus, embraced him, and from that time
regarded him as an oracle.—An astrologer foretold the death of a lady
whom Louis XI passionately loved. She did, in fact, die, and the King
imagined that the prediction of the astrologer was the cause of it. He
sent for the man, intending to have him thrown out of the window as a
punishment. “Tell me,” said the King, “thou who pretendest to be so
clever and learned a man, what thy own fate will be?” The soothsayer,
who suspected the intentions of the King, and knew his foible, replied:
“Sire, I foresee that I shall die three days before your Majesty.” Louis
believed him, and was careful of the astrologer’s life.—An astrologer,
fixing his eyes upon the Duke of Milan, said to him: “My Lord, arrange
your affairs, for you have not long to live.” The Duke asked: “How dost
thou know this?” “By my acquaintance with the stars,” answered the
astrologer. “And pray, how long art thou to live?” “My planet promises
me a long life.” “Well, thou shalt shortly discover that we ought not to
trust the stars.” And the Duke ordered him to be hanged instantly.—Our
own King Henry VIII asked an astrologer if he knew where he should pass
the festivities at Christmas. The astrologer answered that he knew
nothing on the subject. “Then,” said the King, “_I_ am wiser than _thou_
art; for I know that thou shalt pass them in the Tower of London;” and
the unlucky astrologer was at once conducted thither.—William, Duke of
Mantua, had in his stables a brood mare which gave birth to a mule. He
immediately sent to the most famous astrologers in Italy the hour of the
birth of this animal, requesting them to inform him what should be the
fortune of a bastard that had been born in his palace; he took care,
however, not to intimate that he was speaking of a mule. The soothsayers
used their best endeavours to flatter the Prince, not doubting that the
bastard belonged to himself. Some declared that it should be a general;
others made it a bishop; some raised it to the rank of cardinal; and
there were even some who elevated it to the papal chair!
It is truly marvellous that the same age which produced a Newton should
also have seen flourish that arch-astrologer William Lilly (inimitably
satirised by Butler under the name of Sidrophel),[91] whose preposterous
predictions were credited even by persons of education. Swift may be
said to have dealt the death-blow to astrology by his celebrated squib,
entitled “Prediction for the year 1718, by Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.,” in
which he ridiculed the prophetic almanac-makers of the day. Astrology
having permeated all science and literature, it is not surprising that
many of its peculiar terms should have become embodied in our language,
as, for example, in the words _consider_ and _contemplate_, _disaster_
and _disastrous_; and we still speak of _jovial_, _mercurial_, and
_saturnine_ men.—Kepler, in the preface to his Rudolphine tables,
observes that Astrology, though a fool, was the daughter of a wise
mother, to whose support and life the foolish daughter was
indispensable.[92]
_Page 109._ “In the meantime he caused a subterraneous dwelling to be
constructed, to which he sent the boy, with a nurse.”—Sir William
Ouseley has omitted to mention that the boy _was_ born—on the following
day, according to Lescallier.—Many instances of a father trying to belie
the predictions of soothsayers occur in Eastern fiction, and also in
classical and European legends. The story of Danae, the daughter of
Acrisius, King of Argos, by Eurydice, who was confined in a brazen tower
by her father, who had been told by an oracle that his daughter’s son
should put him to death, is well known. The underground dwelling of our
present tale may be compared with that described in chapter 79 of the
English _Gesta Romanorum_; also that in the _Arabian Nights_ (Story of
the Second Kalender); and in the _Bāgh o Bahār_ (Tale of the Second
Dervish), a young prince, in consequence of the prediction of
astrologers that he is menaced with great danger until his fourteenth
year, is confined in a vault, lined with felt, so that he should not
behold the sun or moon. In Mr Ralston’s _Tibetan Tales_, under the title
of “The Fulfilled Prophecy,” the diviners declare that “a son should be
born who should take the King’s life and usurp the royal power, setting
the diadem on his own head.” In the Norse story of “Rich Peter the
Pedlar,”[93] a prediction that his daughter should one day wed a poor
man’s son is fulfilled in spite of many efforts to defeat it—a story
which seems to have been adapted from the _Gesta Romanorum_, Tale xx of
Swan’s translation. And in the Netherlandish Legend of “St Julian the
Ferryman,” it is predicted that Julian shall one day put his own father
and mother to death; and although the unhappy youth flies into a far
distant country, he cannot flee from his terrible destiny, for many
years afterwards the prediction proves only too true.[94]
_Page 110._ “Keeper [of pen and ink] to the secretary” (_dav dari_).—The
Orientals are great admirers of caligraphy. Jamshīd, the Pīshdādian
king, in respect to scribes and writers, thus expressed himself: “As the
monarch’s sword establishes the foundation of his kingdom, so the tongue
of the scribe’s pen transacts the concerns of the faith:
“The sharp-edged sword and pen are twins; the reigning monarch,
By reliance on these two supporters, elevates his neck on high.”
And the Persian Vizier Nizām declared that his cap and inkhorn, the
badges of his office, were connected by the divine decree with the
throne and diadem of the Sultan (_Gibbon_, ch. lvii). It is worthy of
remark that Mīrzā placed before a person’s name means “a man of the
pen;” but if it follow, it means Shāh-Zāda, a prince. For different
styles of writing see A.F.S. Herbin’s _Essai de Calligraphie Orientale_,
Paris, 1803, 4to; Chardin’s _Voyages en Perse, et autres lieux de
l’Orient_, t. ii, ch. iv, pp. 107–110; and Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_,
vol. i, ch. ix. (See also second Note, page 202.)
_Page 113._ “His hair stand on end.”—Thus Job, iv, 15: “The hair of my
flesh stood up;” and Homer, speaking of Priam, when terrified at the
appearance of Mercury: “His hair stood upright on his bending limbs;”
and the Ghost, addressing Hamlet, i, 4:
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
_Page 114._ “Assembled all the people by proclamation”—that they might
take warning from the young man’s fate. But the Persians require no
invitation to scenes of this nature. “The curiosity,” says Dr
Chodzko,[95] “which gathers crowds of people to witness the execution of
culprits in Europe is very feeble in comparison with what can be seen in
Asia on similar occasions. There many of those present are not only fond
of looking at, but even take an active part in tormenting the condemned,
though they never saw him before, or have any motive of revenge. To stab
the poor dying wretch with a knife, or at least to spit in his face, is
an innocent pleasure, which even the women do not refuse themselves.
Those who are moved by revenge are still more savage. Riza Kūlī Khān,
the governor of Yezd, having expelled from that town one of the sons of
the Shāh (in 1830), was afterwards taken prisoner and sent to Tehrān.
The Shāh gave the culprit up to the offended prince, who, after
promising to pardon and forget all, invited him to supper in the harem,
and there stabbed him with his own hands. His wives, and the
maid-servants of the harem, _cut to pieces_ the body, weltering in
blood, with scissors, and pricked and tortured him till he gave up his
last breath!—I can see no reason for this but their brutalising
education. A child begins by wringing off the heads of living sparrows.
When he grows up they buy him a little sword, and exercise the boy in
cutting in two halves, first living fowls, then lambs, sheep, and so on.
Grown-up people consider it as a very fashionable pastime to snatch a
ram from the flock, order two of their servants to hold it by the head
and feet, and placing a bundle of straw underneath, in order to prevent
the sword from striking against the ground, to cut the bleating animal
to pieces while it is alive. The most famous of such swordsmen in Persia
was Sulaymān Mīrza, son of Fatah `Alī Shāh. He has often, in the
presence of the Shāh and numerous witnesses, with one blow of his huge
scimitar cut in two an ass, and severed the head of a camel from its
neck.”
* * * * *
In Lescallier’s version, for the King of Persia we have the King of
Arabia.—In Cazotte’s rendering, under the title of “The Sultan Hebraim
[Ibrahīm] and his Son, or The Predestined,” is found a considerably
amplified but very interesting version of this story. After the young
prince has been discovered and carried away from the underground palace
by a huntsman (not the King’s secretary, but “a man of rank and
fortune”), the incidents are totally different from those of our
version. Abaquir—the young prince—is carefully brought up by his master,
and in course of time becomes accomplished in all the exercises
befitting a noble youth. One day he accompanies his master to the chase,
when they are suddenly attacked by robbers, who slay the elder of the
hunters, and having severely wounded Abaquir, leave him for dead.
Recovering after a long period of insensibility, he rises and walks
onwards through the forest, till he meets with a dervish, who takes him
to his cave and treats him with kindness and hospitality. This dervish
proves to be a wicked magician, who prevails upon Abaquir to descend
into the bowels of a mountain to bring up precious stones, which the
false dervish having drawn safely up, the poor youth is then cruelly
abandoned to his fate. From this cavern Abaquir escapes, and after a
long journey he reaches a city, where a kind-hearted man receives him
into his house, and he remains with him some time. Weary at length of
inaction, he resolves to go out to hunt, and meets with a party of
robbers, whose real avocation he does not know, and joins them—the
robbers binding him to fidelity by a solemn oath. Too late he discovers
the true character of his companions, but is compelled to accompany them
on their plundering expeditions. The daring outrages perpetrated by this
gang of robbers become so notorious that the Sultan Hebraim marches
against them at the head of some chosen troops. The robbers are utterly
defeated, but the Sultan himself is grievously wounded. On returning to
his capital he sends for his astrologers, and angrily asks them whether
in their predictions they had foreseen that he should die by the hand of
a robber. They affirm that what the stars had predicted could not prove
false, and suggest that the Sultan should ascertain who it was, among
the robbers, that wounded him, and then inquire into his birth and
history. Abaquir, his own son, is the robber who inflicted the fatal
wound; and after he has given the best account he could of his early
years, and shown the scars of the lion’s claws on his breast, the Sultan
submits to the decree of Fate, and dies shortly after declaring Abaquir
his successor.—In Habicht’s Arabian text (which agrees with Cazotte in
nearly all the details) it is stated that the King went once every month
to the opening of the underground dwelling, let down a rope, and drew up
his son, embraced and kissed and played with him awhile, then let him
down again.
NOTES ON CONCLUSION.
_Page 116._ “Sent an order to the Viziers,” &c. The lithographed text
says: “Instantly he commanded Bakhtyār to be fetched. The King with his
own hands drew off the fetters, brought him before the Queen, and put on
him a _kabā_ [see Note p. 135] and a _kulāh_”—that is, a robe and a
turban.—Certain officers of the King of Persia’s household who wear gold
tiaras are called _Zarrin-Kullāhān_, Golden Caps.
_Page 117._ “Resigned the throne to Bakhtyār.”—In Hindū stories a very
usual conclusion is the King’s abdication of his throne in favour of his
son; and it is highly probable that such was actually the custom
formerly. In the European mediæval romance of “The Knight with the
Swan,” King Oriant abdicates in favour of his son Helias.—See Mr W. J.
Thoms’ _Early English Prose Romances_.
_Page 117._ “Dignity of Chief Vizier.”—The text reads: “He conferred on
Farrukhsuwār, with complete honour and reverence, the Vizier’s _Khil`at_
[see Note p. 136], and appointed him Commander-in-chief (_Sipahsālār_).”
The lithographed text thus concludes: “This book is finished by the aid
of the King the Giver [_i.e._ God]”: _tamma-’l-kitāb bi
`awni-’l-Māliki-’l-Wahhāb_.
ADDITIONAL NOTES.
As a few notes remain to be added to the foregoing, I take the
opportunity of correcting in this place some errors which have occurred
while these sheets were passing through the press.
Page 157, line 1, for Berica _read_ Berœa.
Page 160, line 19 for chemy _read_ cheraiy, or sheraiy.
Page 167, lines 7 and 8.—It may be as well to explain that the words
_tavakkul bar Khudā_ are a Persian translation (in the text) of the
Arabic _tawakkal `ala-’llāhi_ of the Kur’ān, ch. xxxiii (_not_ xxxvii),
3—“put thy trust in God.”
Page 169, line 19, for Trinchinopoli _read_ Trichinopoli.
* * * * *
The following note, by mischance, has been omitted in its proper place
(Notes on Chapter VIII):
_Page 93._ “The King graciously received the present which Rūzbih
offered.”—It is well known that, in all parts of the East, whoever
visits a great person must carry him a present. “It is counted uncivil,”
says Maundrell, p. 26, “to visit in this country without an offering in
hand. All great men expect it as a tribute due to their character and
authority; and look upon themselves as affronted, and indeed defrauded,
when the compliment is omitted.” In the sacred writings we find mention
made of this custom. For instance, 1 Samuel ix, 7: “But behold, if we
go, what shall we bring the man? for the bread is spent in our vessels,
and there is not a present (_teshurah_) to bring to the man of God—what
have we?” Menachem explains _teshurah_ to signify “an offering or gift,
which is presented in order to be admitted into the presence of a King
or some great man.” See also Isaiah lvii, 9, _lit._: “And thou hast
visited the King with a present of oil.”
* * * * *
“The King of Yemen and his Slave”—see page 56, and last note, page
174.—This story in Habicht’s Arabian text is entitled “The History of
King Bihkard,” and the following passages may be compared with those of
our text and with Lescallier, above referred to: On a certain day he
went on a hunting excursion, and one of his servants shot an arrow, and
it struck the King’s ear, and cut it off. The King asked: “Who shot this
arrow?” The attendants instantly conducted the bowman to the front, and
his name was Yatrū. Fainting from fear, he threw himself on the ground,
and the King said: “Put him to death.” But Yatrū said: “O King, this
fault is not of my own choice or knowledge—pardon me, then, out of thy
kindness, since grace is the most gracious of actions, and oftentimes on
some future day becomes a treasure and a benefit, and in the sight of
God a recompense at the last day. Pardon me, then: as you avert evil
from me, so will God ward off from thee a similar evil.” When the King
heard these words, he admired and forgave Yatrū, yet never had he before
pardoned any one.
Now this servant was of royal extraction, and had fled from his country,
by reason of some transgression, and had entered the service of King
Bihkard. And this is what happened to him. By chance a person who knew
him passed that way, and gave information to his father, who sent him a
letter, which gratified his heart and disposition; and he returned to
his father, who inclined indulgently towards him. Yatrū rejoiced, and
his affairs were rectified.—Compare also Lescallier and Cazotte, cited
in pp. 178, 179.
_Arabian Version of Abū Temām’s Mission._
(Comp. pp. 101–103, and 212, 213.)
According to Habicht’s text, the account of Abū Temām’s delicate—not to
say dangerous—mission to the King of Turkistān is very different from
that of the Persian version. The King desires him to enter the harem,
and see and converse with the Princess; and he proceeds thither,
reflecting on the way that “Wise men have averred that whoever deprives
his sight [that is, closes his eyes] no evil can attach to him; and
whoever bridles his tongue hears nothing disagreeable; and whoever
restrains his hand, it can neither be shortened nor lengthened.” He
accordingly enters the chamber of the Princess, and sits down on the
floor, gathering together the extremities of his robe. When the King’s
daughter requests him to raise his head, look upon and converse with
her, Abū Temām remains mute, and with downcast eyes. She then requests
him to take the pearls, and the gold and silver which lie near him, but
he does not extend his hand towards anything. At this the Princess is
vexed, and tells her father that they have sent a blind, and deaf, and
foolish ambassador; whereupon the King of Turkistān demands of Abū Temām
why he had not looked upon and conversed with his daughter: he replies
that he had seen everything [he should see]; and in answer to the
inquiry, why he had not taken the proffered pearls, he says that it was
not proper for him to extend his hand to aught that belongs to another.
The King, overjoyed at his prudence, embraces him, shows him the heads
of former ambassadors (see page 214, line 4), consents to give his
daughter in marriage to Abū Temām’s royal master, and presents him with
a robe of honour, after which Abū Temām departs, and in due course the
Princess is sent to the palace of Īlan Shāh.
_Arabian Version of the Conclusion of the Romance._
In Habicht’s Arabian text the conclusion is as follows (comp. pp.
115–117):
When the youth had finished his narrative, the King said: “Still thou
wouldest bewilder us with thy discourses, but the time is now come for
your execution.”—At the moment when they were conducting the youth to
the gallows, the robber-chief who had educated him arrived in the town.
When he observed the people assembling together, he inquired the cause,
and they said to him: “The King has commanded a young culprit to be
executed.” The robber-chief, who wished to see the youth, immediately
recognised him, and kissed him on the mouth, and said: “This youth, when
a child, I found near a fountain. I adopted him, and brought him up. One
day we attacked a caravan, and were driven into flight, and he was taken
prisoner. Since then I have sought everywhere for him, and never could
gain any news respecting him.” When the King heard this he cried aloud,
threw himself on the youth, embraced and kissed him, and said: “I should
have put my own son to death, and in consequence should have died of
grief.” The King then unfettered the Prince, took the crown from his own
head, and placed it on that of his son. The news was made public by the
beating of drums and the braying of trumpets, the town was illuminated,
and there arose such a shouting of joy that the birds could scarcely
support themselves in the air. All prisoners were released by order of
the King, and a seven days’ festival proclaimed throughout the kingdom.
On the eighth day the King placed his son at his side, and summoned all
his friends, the city notables, and the viziers. To these last the
Prince said: “You see now the work of God’s providence—you now perceive
His aid was near.” The Viziers were struck dumb, and the King added: “I
observe that on this day all the people rejoice, even the birds of the
air—ye only are downcast; that is truly a proof of rancour against me.
Had I listened to your advice, I should have died from the effects of
despair and repentance.” The King then summoned to his presence the
robber-chief, made him many presents, and said: “Whoever loves the King,
let him lavish gifts on this man.” Whereupon he was so overwhelmed with
presents that he could not take any more; and the King then conferred
upon him the governorship of the province in which he had dwelt.
Soon afterwards the King ordered nine sets of gallows to be erected near
the one already set up, and said to his son: “Thou wast guiltless—these
wicked Viziers slandered thee in my eyes.” The Prince rejoined: “My
crime consisted of my loyalty to thee—seeing that I removed their hands
from thy treasures, they envied me, and wished my death.” “On that
account,” said the King, “let their punishment now be near, for their
crime is great: to destroy thee, they did not scruple to disgrace my
house in the opinion of all sovereigns.” He then turned to the Viziers,
and said to them: “Woe be to you! Wherewith can you excuse yourselves?”
They replied: “O King, there is no excuse for us—we were unkind to the
youth, and wished his misfortune, which has recoiled on us;—for him we
dug a grave and have fallen into it ourselves.” Hereupon the King issued
an order for their execution—“for,” said he, “God is just, and all His
judgments are true.” The King afterwards lived in happiness and
peacefully with his spouse and his son, until the disturber of all
earthly friends reached them likewise.
WILLIAM BURNS, PRINTER, LARKHALL, LANARKSHIRE.
-----
Footnote 1:
See Thoms’ _Lays and Legends of Germany_; Thorpe’s _Yule-Tide
Stories_; Roscoe’s _German Novelists_.
Footnote 2:
Grimm’s _German Popular Tales_.
Footnote 3:
Dasent’s _Popular Tales from the Norse_.
Footnote 4:
Perhaps one of the most curious instances of the migrations of popular
tales is the following. In Taylor’s _Wit and Mirth_, an excellent
jest-book, compiled by the celebrated Water-Poet (_temp._ James I of
England), we are told of a countryman who had come up to London on a
visit, and some wags having set a big dog at him in sport, the poor
fellow stooped to pick up a stone to throw at the brute, but finding
them all rammed hard and fast into the ground, he exclaimed in
astonishment: “What strange folk are these, who fasten the stones and
let loose their dogs!” More than three centuries before Taylor heard
this jest, the Persian poet Sa`dī related it in his _Gulistān_, or
Rose-Garden (ch. iv, story 10 of Eastwick’s translation): “A poet went
to the chief of a band of robbers, and recited a panegyric upon him.
He commanded them to strip off his clothes, and turn him out of the
village. The dogs, too, attacked him in the rear. He wanted to take up
a stone, but the ground was frozen. Unable to do anything, he said:
‘What a villanous set are these, who have untied their dogs, and tied
up the stones!’”—Here we have a jest, at the recital of which, in the
14th century, “grave and otiose” Easterns wagged their beards and
shook their portly sides, finding its way, three centuries later, to
London taverns, where Taylor probably heard it told amidst the
clinking of cans and fragrant clouds blown from pipes of Trinidado!
But how came it thither?—that is the question.
Footnote 5:
Of the numerous English translations of the _Arabian Nights_ which
have been published, that of the learned Arabist, Mr William Edward
Lane, made direct from the original text, is by far the best, and will
probably never be surpassed; while his elaborate and highly
interesting Notes to the translation furnish the most complete account
which we possess of the manners, customs, superstitions, &c., of the
modern Arabians in Egypt, with which his residence in that country,
and familiarity with the language as it is spoken, enabled him to
become intimately acquainted.
Footnote 6:
For example: before one story (1) is ended another (2) is begun, and
before it is finished another (3), springing out of the second, is
commenced; then out of story 3 springs yet another story (4), which
ended, number 3 is resumed and brought to an end, then number 2, after
which number 1 is resumed and concluded; and then the thread of the
_leading_ story—which runs throughout the whole work, like a brook
through a meadow, but often out of sight—is taken up once more;—to
lead presently to a fresh complication of stories, which “beget one
another to the end of the chapter!” The arrangement of the Tales in
the _Arabian Nights_ is on this plan; though not to be compared for
elaboration with that of the Indian Fables, above-mentioned, still
less so with the frame of _Kathá Sarit Ságara_.
Footnote 7:
A complete and unabridged translation of the _Thousand and One Nights_
(the first that has appeared in English), by Mr John Payne, author of
“The Masque of Shadows,” “Poems of Francis Villon,” &c., is in course
of publication. The first volume, now issued to subscribers, is well
printed on hand-made paper, and elegantly bound in gilt parchment.
This edition is limited to 500 copies, numbered, most of which, I
understand, have already been taken up.
Footnote 8:
The word _Nāma_ (often written _Namah_ and _Nameh_) signifies Book, or
History.
Footnote 9:
It is probably this version that is quoted by Sa`dī, in his _Bustān_,
book iii:
How nice comes this point in Sindibād,
That “Love is a fire—O whirlwind-like sea!”
Footnote 10:
_Asiatic Journal, N.S._, vols. xxxv, xxxvi, 1841.—These titles also
appear on this manuscript. _Mesneviyi Sindibād_, “The couplet-rhymed
Sindibād;” _Nazmi hakim Sindibād_, “Rhymed Story of the Philosopher
Sindibād;” and _Kitābi hakīm Sindibād_, “Book of the Philosopher
Sindibād.”
Footnote 11:
Wilson’s _Descriptive Catalogue of the Mackenzie MSS._ vol. i, p. 220.
Footnote 12:
The Thousand and One Nights: Arabian Tales. For the first time
completely and fully translated from a Tunisian Manuscript, &c.
Footnote 13:
In 1792 an English translation of this work was published at
Edinburgh, in 4 vols., under the title: _Arabian Tales_. Translated
from the original Arabic into French; and from the French into
English, by Robert Heron.
Footnote 14:
An English rendering of the Turkī version of the story translated into
French by M. Jaubert will be found at the end of Notes on Chapter VI,
pp. 189–194.
Footnote 15:
_Political and Statistical Account of the British Settlements in the
Straits of Malacca._ By T. J. Newbold. 2 vols. London, 1839.
Footnote 16:
Mr J. W. Redhouse has kindly furnished me, as follows, with the
various meanings attached to the word _Ghulām_; which in the Malay
romance seems to be employed as a proper name: “Gulām (not Ghulām), an
Arabic word, signifies ‘a boy,’ ‘a lad.’ The Persians have made it, in
their language, signify ‘a slave,’ and thence ‘a life-guardsman,’ and
‘a king’s messenger;’ whence ‘any post-messenger who travels on
horse-back’—or by rail, now, in some places: all these really mean ‘a
lad.’ The Turks use the word in the first and last senses—‘a lad,’ ‘a
Persian post-courier.’”
Footnote 17:
_The Bakhtyar Nameh, or Story of Prince Bakhtyar and the Ten Viziers._
A series of Persian Tales. From a Manuscript in the Collection of Sir
William Ouseley. London, 1800.—This edition includes the original
text; in 1801, according to Lowndes’ _Bibliographer’s Manual_, an
edition was published without the Persian text.
Footnote 18:
_Bakhtiar Nameh, ou le Favori de la Fortune._ Conte traduit du Persan.
Par M. Lescallier. Paris, 1805.
Footnote 19:
See third note, page 184, and first note, p. 195.
Footnote 20:
Mr Platt would date the work a century earlier; he writes to me, as
follows, on this question: “First, be it observed, the only titles of
Kings mentioned in the Persian text are, Shāh, Pādishāh, Malik, and
Kaisar; nowhere do we find the sovereign title of Sultān, but it
occurs in Habicht’s Arabic text. This title was first borne by Mahmood
ibn Sabuktakeer, A.D. 1002 (A.H. 393), and did not exist in Egypt
until A.D. 1171 (A.H. 567). At page 184 of your Notes and
Illustrations reference is made to the _Gulistān_ of Sa`dī: now that
work was published A.D. 1257 (A.H. 655), and it is as well to bear in
mind that the poet was born A.H. 1175 (A.H. 571), and by some said to
have attained the advanced age of 102, by others 116 years. The work,
therefore, is more likely to have been written towards the close of,
rather than after, the 13th century. Next may be considered the arms
of defence and offence, which required the appointment of an
armour-bearer (see page 111, line 6), viz., bow, quiver—containing
broad-bladed arrows—sword, or scimitar, mace, or bludgeon, shield, and
a spear, or lance; all of which were employed by the Crusaders. Now
the first of the eight crusades dates A.D. 1096 (A.H. 490), and the
last A.D. 1270 (A.H. 669). These considerations are connected with the
Seljukian kingdom of Rūm, of which the capital was Koniah (Iconium),
founded A.D. 1074 (A.H. 467), and lasted until A.D. 1307 (A.H. 707);
in all, 233 years. Much confusion arises from the Ruler of the Eastern
Empire being called Kaisar-ī Rūm, a title also assumed by the
Seljukian dynasty. The Kaisar-i Rūm of Chapter III may allude to any
occupant of the Constantinopolitan throne between the years A.D. 1257
and 1434.”
Footnote 21:
In this entertaining book a Parrot is represented as relating stories
night after night, in order to prevent a merchant’s wife from carrying
on a criminal intrigue during her husband’s absence. Nakshabī’s work
has not yet been wholly translated into English—see _foot_ note, page
197. Of Kāderī’s abridgment (which is very clumsily done) a
translation, together with his Persian text, was published at
Calcutta, and reprinted at London in 1801. Kāderī has certainly done
Nakshabī’s literary reputation no small injury, by the manner in which
he has cut down the stories, and by substituting his own inexpressive
and bald style for the graceful composition of the original. It is to
be hoped that ere long some competent scholar will present English
readers with a fair translation of Nakshabī’s excellent work, which
would prove of considerable service to those interested in tracing the
migrations and transformations of popular tales.—Besides the _Suka
Saptati_, above mentioned, there is another Indian book, in Tamul, on
the same plan, entitled _Hamsa Vinsati_, Twenty Tales of a Hamsa, or
Goose, told with the same object as that of the Parrot—to keep an
amorous lady at home until her husband returns.
Footnote 22:
_Arabian Nights’ Entertainments._ To which is added a Selection of New
Tales, now first translated from the Arabic originals; also an
Introduction and Notes, by Jonathan Scott, LL.D. London, 1811. 6
vols.—This edition, says Lowndes, “was carefully revised and corrected
from the Arabic,” but it is not easy to discover any of the Editor’s
emendations: the sixth volume consists of Scott’s additional Tales,
one or two of which had been better left in the “original Arabic.”
Footnote 23:
Evidently a misprint for “literal,” since Scott accuses Cazotte of
taking “liberties” with his originals, and contrasts his work with
Ouseley’s more accurate translation. It is curious to find, for once,
at least, a misprint proving to be no error; for Ouseley’s translation
is in fact very “liberal,” and Scott assuredly could never have
compared it with the text.
Footnote 24:
As the Eleventh Day, is the Story of the Freed Slave.
Footnote 25:
In allusion to the name, compounded of _Bakht_, Fortune, and _yār_, a
friend, or companion.
Footnote 26:
Bihrūz and Rūzbih are compounded of the words _bih_, good, excellent,
and _rūz_, day; meaning “whose day is excellent.”—ED.
Footnote 27:
Veti-ver, Mr Platt writes to me, “is a French word, and yet I am
unable to find it in any French Dictionary. It is a kind of grass,
deriving its name from the Latin words _veto_ and _vermis_, as it is
used when dry in keeping clothes, etc. free from moths. In the
Mauritius, I believe, mats and table-covers are manufactured from it.”
Footnote 28:
Morier’s _Second Journey_.
Footnote 29:
This is Mr Bicknell’s almost literal rendering:
If the young Magian dally with grace so coy and fine,
My eyes shall bend their fringes to sweep the house of wine.
Footnote 30:
_Kīl va kāl, par va bāl_, “question and answer,” “feather and wing:” a
jingle of words which has a great charm to a Persian ear: “feather and
wing,” pride of place; for the height of prosperity they say _pār va
bāl-i ikbāl_.
Footnote 31:
_Manzil_, a day’s journey—about twenty miles.
Footnote 32:
Ottoman Poems. Translated, with Introduction, Biographical Notices,
and Notes, by E. J. W. Gibb (Trübner & Co.) Page 211.
Footnote 33:
That is, a sword, the scabbard of which is ornamented with gold.
Footnote 34:
_Second Journey to Persia, &c._
Footnote 35:
He would be a “friend indeed” to submit to so much consultation!
Footnote 36:
This droll story is also domiciled in Italy: see D’Israeli’s
_Curiosities of Literature_—“On the Philosophy of Proverbs”; but the
probable original is found in the Talmud, where it occurs as an
addendum to the well-known tale of the emperor Hadrian and the old man
who planted a fig-tree.
Footnote 37:
Compare Scott:
“When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!”
Footnote 38:
_History of Muhammedanism_, Second Edition, p. 322.
Footnote 39:
Sir John Malcolm’s _History of Persia_, vol. ii p. 585.
Footnote 40:
Russell’s _Natural History of Aleppo_, vol. i, chap. 3.
Footnote 41:
Meaning the Sultan himself; for the Turkish Sultans are all born of
slave-women.
Footnote 42:
From _Ferdusi, his Life and Writings_, by S. R. (Mr Samuel Robinson),
one of a series of admirable translations &c. of Persian Poetry,
published some years ago, and now being reprinted for private
circulation by the learned and venerable author, as a companion volume
to my _Arabian Poetry for English Readers_.
Footnote 43:
_Essai sur les Fables Indiennes._
Footnote 44:
_A Century of Ghazels, or a Hundred Odes, selected and translated from
the Divān of Hāfiz_, by S.R. (Preliminary Notice, pp. viii, ix.)
Footnote 45:
_Flowers from the “Gulistān” and “Bostān”_ of Sadi. By S. R.
Footnote 46:
It has long been a barbarous practice in Persia to _pluck out_ the
eyes of political offenders. Morier, in his romance of _Zohrab the
Hostage_, represents the brutal tyrant Aga Muhammad Shāh, during the
horrible massacre which followed the capture of Astrābād, as coolly
counting, with the handle of his riding-switch, the number of pairs of
eyes placed before him on a tray; and a reference to the account of
this monster’s conduct after the capture of Kirmān, in Sir John
Malcolm’s _History of Persia_, will show that the novelist has not
exaggerated in this matter.
Footnote 47:
Nigārīn: idol-like, beautiful, embellished, a beloved object.
Footnote 48:
Under the title of _Hindoo Tales_ (London: Strahan & Co.), Dr P. W.
Jacob has issued a very readable translation of this entertaining
romance.
Footnote 49:
_Tibetan Tales, derived from Indian Sources._ Translated from the
Tibetan of the _Kah-Gyur_, by F. Anton Von Schiefner. Done into
English, from the German, by W. R. S. Ralston, M.A. London: Trübner &
Co.
Footnote 50:
_Descriptive Catalogue of the Mackenzie Collection of Oriental MSS._
By H. H. Wilson. Calcutta, 1828. Vol. i, p. 17.
Footnote 51:
Translated from the German of Bergmann, by Mr William J. Thoms, and
published, in 1834, in his very interesting _Lays and Legends of
Various Nations_, a work which is now become extremely scarce, and
well merits being reprinted.
Footnote 52:
The King was wont to visit the well where Abū Saber lay, and to jeer
and mock his practice of patience.
Footnote 53:
That is, the story of Abraha, obscurely referred to in the opening
paragraph, page 56. Abraha, we are there informed, “was the son of the
King of Zangībār, who, _by chance_, had fallen into slavery, and never
disclosed the secret to any one.” Lescallier says, that he was reduced
to slavery “by some extraordinary adventure,” but the text does not
explain the nature of the “adventure.”
Footnote 54:
Khōja: in its more restricted meaning, a lord, a master; Muhammad is
styled _Khōja-i bas o nashr_, literally, “lord of the raising and
dispersing,” that is, the Resurrection. In its general signification,
a man of distinction, doctor, professor, &c. But the title of Khōja,
like our “Mr” is now very commonly applied to any respectable person.
Footnote 55:
“Zangistān.”—The Oriental adjunct _stān_ or _istān_, the participle of
_istādan_, “to reside,” or “dwell,” denotes “place,” or “country,”
whence Moghol-istān, a port of Tartary; Fars-istān, Persia;
Khūz-istān, Susiana. The root of _stān_ may be seen in our English
word “station.”
Footnote 56:
“Four parasangs.”—A Persian league, about 18,000 feet in length, is
_Fars-sang_, that is, the Stone of Persia, which Herodotus and other
Greek authors term _Parasanga_. It seems that in ancient times the
distance of a league was marked in the East, as well as in the West,
by large elevated stones.
Footnote 57:
The love of Jacob for his son Joseph, and his grief at his supposed
death, are proverbial amongst Muslims, and very frequently alluded to
by Persian poets. In the 12th sura of the Kur’ān it is stated that
Jacob became blind through constant weeping for his lost son, and that
his sight was restored by means of Joseph’s inner garment, which the
Governor of Egypt sent to his father by his brethren. In the _Makamat_
of El-Hariri, the celebrated Arabian poet, are such allusions as
“passed a night of sorrow like Jacob’s,” “wept more than Jacob when he
lost his son.”
Footnote 58:
Probably the messenger went to Yemen in the assumed capacity of a
merchant, which would render him least liable to suspicion, and also
enable him to smuggle Abraha out of the city without attracting
particular notice.
Footnote 59:
The same savage maxim occurs in the _Anvār-i Suhailī_: “When thou hast
got thy enemy fast, show him no mercy.”
Footnote 60:
Islām is not, as is commonly believed in Europe, synonymous with
Fatalism. “What Muhammad taught,” remarks Mr Redhouse, “what the
Kur’ān so eloquently and so persistently sets forth, and what real
faithful Muslims believe, conformably with what is contained in the
Gospels and accepted by devout Christians, is—that God’s Providence
pre-ordains, as His Omniscience foreknows, all events, and over-rules
the designs of men, to the sure fulfilment of His all-wise
purposes.”—_El-Esmā’u-’l-Husna_, “The Most Comely Names” [_i.e._ of
God], by J. W. Redhouse, M.R.A.S. Trübner & Co., London.
Footnote 61:
There are many varieties of this amusing story in Europe as well as in
Asia—whether Father Beschi found it in India or took it with him.
Footnote 62:
“The ‘Uygur’ language,” Mr J. W. Redhouse writes to me, “is simply
Turkish; what we should term ‘a little provincial.’ It is very much
more consistent with the Ottoman Turkish of to-day than the English of
four hundred years ago was like the modern English.”
Footnote 63:
Here, surely, the Tātār translator—or adapter—anticipates the course
of the narrative; since the King (unfortunately for the Vezīr Kārdār)
did _not_ possess, at one and the same time, _two_ Vezīrs and a
beautiful wife—if by the latter be meant the pious daughter of Kerdār.
Footnote 64:
Kārdān signifies “knowing affairs”—“experienced.” The meaning of
Kerdār (as Kārdār is pronounced by Turks) is already given in the
foregoing notes.
Footnote 65:
Lit: without whom she could not live.—_Jaubert._
Footnote 66:
In M. Cazotte’s rendering of the Arabian version (French translation
of the _Continuation of the Thousand and One Nights_), it is also the
cameleer of the King of Persia, and not of King Dādīn, as in the
Persian _Bakhtyār_, who discovers the pious maiden in the desert, and
from this point to the end of the narrative M. Cazotte’s and the Turkī
versions correspond.
Footnote 67:
Husain Vā`iz, in his _Anvār-i-Suhailī_, had probably Sa`dī’s verses in
mind when he wrote: “The arrow which has leapt from the string cannot
be brought back, nor can the slain person be resuscitated either by
strength or gold.”
Footnote 68:
Lane’s _Thousand and One Nights_, Introd. p. 27.—See a more just
estimate of women, cited from the _Mahābharata_, p. 139 of the present
volume.
Footnote 69:
Dr Jonathan Scott: Notes to vol. vi. of his edition of the _Arabian
Nights_.
Footnote 70:
The 50th Night of the India Office MS. No. 2573; and the 35th tale of
Muhammad Kaderi’s abridgment. Gerrans’ English translation, 1792,
comprises barely one-fifth of the Tales, only the first volume of it
having been published: he probably did not meet with sufficient
encouragement to complete his work.
Footnote 71:
See Lane’s _Thousand and One Nights_, Introduction, note 21, ch. iii,
note 14; Kur’ān ii, 96.
Footnote 72:
It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that Muhammad did not profess to
introduce a new religion, but simply to restore the original and only
true faith, which was held and taught by Abraham, David, Solomon, and
the other great prophets.
Footnote 73:
See Dr Weil’s interesting little work, entitled, _The Bible, the
Koran, and the Talmud_, where also will be found the curious legend of
how the demon Sakhr, above mentioned, by obtaining possession of
Solomon’s magical signet, personated the great Hebrew King, and of the
wonderful recovery of the seal-ring, and Solomon’s restoration to his
kingdom.
Footnote 74:
Sir Gore Ouseley’s _Biographical Notices of Persian Poets_.
Footnote 75:
_Arabian Nights’ Entertainments_, edited by Jonathan Scott. 6 vols,
8vo. London, 1811. Vol. vi, _Notes_.
Footnote 76:
Morier’s _Second Journey to Persia_, &c.
Footnote 77:
See Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_.—In my _Arabian Poetry for English
Readers_ is a translation (the first that has appeared in English) of
the famous Burda-Poem of El-Busīrī, contributed by Mr J. W. Redhouse,
with Preface and Notes.
Footnote 78:
Called _El-Fātiha_; according to Sale’s translation, it is as follows:
IN THE NAME OF THE MOST MERCIFUL GOD.
PRAISE be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the most merciful, the
King of the Day of Judgment. Thee do we worship, and of thee do we beg
assistance. Direct us in the right way, in the way of those to whom
thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom thou art incensed,
nor of those who go astray.
Footnote 79:
_The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night._ Translated by Henry
Torrens. Calcutta: 1838. Vol. I. Notes.—This excellent translation
comprises only the first 50 Nights, and it is much to be regretted
that Torrens did not live to complete a task so well begun.
Footnote 80:
Malcolm’s _History of Persia_, vol. ii.
Footnote 81:
_Sketches of Persia_, 1861 ed., page 134.
Footnote 82:
Folk-Lore students will perhaps “make a note of this.”
Footnote 83:
No. xliv of “Pleasant Stories,” in Gladwin’s _Persian Moonshee_, 1801.
Footnote 84:
Malcolm’s _History of Persia_, vol. ii, pp. 594, 5.
Footnote 85:
This Rabbinical tale has been adopted in France, where it is told of a
gentleman who left his wealth to a convent, provided they gave his son
“whatever they chose”—_they_ chose the bulk of the money, which, of
course, they had to restore.
Footnote 86:
_Dissertation on the Literature, Languages, and Manners of Eastern
Nations._
Footnote 87:
_Anvar-i Suhaili_, or Lights of Canopus. By Hussain Vā’iz.
Footnote 88:
The Story of Semiletka, in Mr Ralston’s _Russian Folk-Tales_, bears so
close a resemblance to this rabbinical story, in the stratagem adopted
by the wife, that we must conclude it cannot be a mere coincidence.
Footnote 89:
Chardin’s _Voyages en Perse_, &c., vol. ii, pp. 149, 220.
Footnote 90:
_History of Persia_, vol. ii, pp. 576–7.
Footnote 91:
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel,
That deals in Destiny’s dark counsels,
And sage opinions of the moon sells.—_Hudibras._
Footnote 92:
Should the reader feel any curiosity to ascertain the sentiments
entertained by Muhammadans regarding the influence of the planets upon
men’s dispositions and fortunes, he will find the fullest information
on the subject in _Qanoon-e-Islam, or the Customs of the Moosulmans of
India_. By Jaffer Shureef. Translated by G. A. Herklots, M.D. London,
1832.
Footnote 93:
Dr Dasent’s _Popular Tales from the Norse_.
Footnote 94:
Thorpe’s _Northern Mythology_, vol. iii.
Footnote 95:
_Popular Poetry of Persia._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s note:
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as
printed.