It is well known that men afflicted with partial deafness are generally

unwilling to acknowledge their infirmity, and even resent being talked

to in a loud tone of voice; though they often betray themselves by the

answers they give to questions asked of them, much to the amusement of

their questioners.—A story is told of a deaf Persian who was taking home

a quantity of wheat, and, coming to a river which he must cross, he saw

a horseman approach; so he said to himself: “When that horseman comes up

he will first salute me, saying, ‘Peace be with thee!’ Next he will ask,

‘What is the depth of this river?’ and then he will ask, how many _máns_

of wheat I have with me.” But the deaf man’s surmises were sadly amiss,

for when the horseman came up he cried: “Ho! my man, what is the depth

of this river?” The deaf one replied: “Peace be with thee, and the mercy

of Allah and his blessing!” At this the horseman laughed and said: “May

they cut off thy beard!” to which the deaf one rejoined: “Up to my neck.”

The horseman then said: “Dust be on thy mouth!” The deaf one placidly

replied: “Eighty máns of it.”

Here we have a very close parallel to the story of the Deaf Man and his

Sick Friend, and there is a curious Norwegian variant in Sir George W.

Dasent’s _Tales from the Fjeld_, under the title of “Goodman Axeshaft,”

which is to this purpose:

The wife and daughter of an old ferryman, who was extremely deaf, by

their extravagance plunge him into an ocean of debt and run away from

home. The sheriff is to come and seize, and the old man wonders what

he’ll say to him. “Ah, I’ll begin to cut an axeshaft, and the sheriff

will ask me how long it is to be. I’ll answer, ‘Up as far as that twig

sticks out.’ Then he’ll ask, ‘What’s become of the ferry boat?’ and

I’ll say, ‘I’m going to tar her, and yonder she lies on the strand,

split at both ends.’ Then he’ll ask, ‘Where’s your gray mare?’ and I’ll

say, ‘She’s standing in the stable, big with foal.’ And then he’ll ask,

‘Whereabouts is your sheepcote?’ and I’ll answer, ‘Not far off; when you

get a bit up the hill you’ll soon see it.’” But when the sheriff comes up

he says “Good day” to the old man, who answers: “Axeshaft.” Then he asks:

“How far off to the river?” to which the ferryman replies: “Up to this

twig,” pointing a little way up the piece of timber. The sheriff stares

and shakes his head. “Where’s your wife?” “I’m just going to tar her,”

and so forth. “Where’s your daughter?” “In the stable,” and so on. “To

the deuce with you!” exclaims the sheriff, in a rage. “Very good,” says

the old man; “not far off—when you get a bit up the hill you’ll soon see

it.” Upon this the sheriff goes off, in sheer despair.

THE GARDENER AND THE LITTLE BIRD—p. 448.

In mediæval times the ancient fable of the Fowler and the Little Bird

was appropriated by several monkish compilers of _exempla_, designed for

the use of preachers; but this version is unique, so far as my knowledge

of other forms of the fable extends. It has, exclusively, the scene

between the lapwing and the nightingale; the references to the Muslim

legend of Solomon’s receiving from a lapwing, or hoopoe, intelligence of

the city of Sabá (or Sheba) and Queen Bilkís; and the allegation of the

nightingale to the gardener that the fruit the bird had destroyed was

poisonous. The fable is found in the spiritual romance of Barlaam and

Joasaph (not Josaphat, as the name is commonly written), which is said to

have been composed in the first half of the 7th century, by a Greek monk

named John, of the convent of St. Sabá, at Jerusalem, and—according to

M. Hermann Zotenberg—redacted by Johannes Damascenus, a Greek Father, of

the 8th century, and included in his works. It is now certain that the

substance of this work was derived from Indian sources: the incidents in

the youth of Joasaph correspond with those in the early years of Gautama,

the founder of Buddhism; while some of the parables contained in the

romance are found in the _Játakas_, or Buddhist Birth-stories and others

in Hindú books. This is how the fable is told in _Barlaam and Joasaph_:

They who worship idols are like the bird-catcher who caught one of the

smallest birds, which they call the nightingale. As he was about to kill

and eat it, articulate speech was given to the bird, and it said: “What

will the killing of me profit thee, man? Thou canst not fill thy belly

with me. But if thou set me free, I will give thee three injunctions,

which, if thou observe, will benefit thee all thy life.” He was amazed to

hear the bird speak, and promised. Then said the nightingale: “Never try

to reach the unattainable. Rue not a thing that is past. Never believe

a thing that is beyond belief.” Away flies the bird; but, to test the

man’s common sense, it cries to him: “How thoughtless thou art! Inside of

my body is a pearl larger than the egg of an ostrich, and thou hast not

obtained it!” Then he repented having let the bird go free, and tried to

coax it back by fair offers. But the bird rebuked his folly in so soon

forgetting all the three injunctions it had given him.

* * * * *

In this form the fable also occurs in the _Disciplina Clericalis_ of

Petrus Alphonsus, a Spanish Jew, who was converted to Christianity in

1106, and who avowedly derived the materials for his work from the

Arabian fabulists, and from this collection it was taken into the

_Gesta Romanorum_ (see Swan’s translation, ed. 1824, vol. ii, p. 87).

John Lydgate, the monk of Bury, of the 15th century, turned the fable

into English verse, under the title of “The Chorle and the Bird, from a

pamflete in Frenche,” which is conjectured to have been the _fabliau_

“Le Lai de l’Oiselet,” but this I think is rather doubtful. According to

Lydgate’s poem, a little bird takes up its abode in a laurel-tree in a

churl’s garden, and sings merrily all the livelong day. The churl sets a

trap (_pantere_) to catch the bird.

It was a verray hevenly melodye,

Evyne and morowe to here the bryddis songe,

And the soote sugred armonye

Of uncouthe varblys and tunys drawen on longe,

That al the gardeyne of the noysè rong,

Til on a morwe, whan Tytan shone ful clere,

The birdd was trapped and kaute with a pantere.

The churl puts the little bird into a fine cage and orders it to sing,

but says the bird:

“Song and prison have noon accordaunce,

Trowest thou I wolle syng in prisoun?

Song procedethe of joy and of plesaunce,

And prison causethe dethe and destruccioun;

Rynging of fetires makethe ne mery sounde,

Or how shuld he be gladde or jocounde

Agayne his wylle, that ligthe in chaynès bounde?”

“But let me out,” the bird goes on to say, “so that I may perch again on

the laurel-tree, and then I will sing to thee, and moreover,

“I shal the yeve a notable gret gwerdoun,

Thre grete wysdoms according to resoun,

More of walewe, take hede what I do profre,

Thane al the golde that is shet in thi cofre.”

The three “great wisdoms” are the same as those in other versions, and

then the little bird says that the churl by setting him free has missed

gaining a rare treasure, for in his inside is a stone, fully an ounce

in weight, which has many wonderful properties: making its possessor

victorious in battle; he should suffer no poverty or indigence but have

abundance of wealth; all should do him reverence; it would reconcile

foes, comfort the sorrowful, and make heavy hearts light.[304] The churl

is beside himself with vexation, and the bird calls him a fool for

believing such a rank impossibility.[305]

Husain Vá’iz has re-told the apologue in his _Anvár-i Suhaylí_, or Lights

of Canopus, a Persian rendering, in prose and verse, of the celebrated

Fables of Bidpaï with additions, of which this is one. Here, however, the

nightingale—having been entrapped by the gardener, because it destroyed

his roses—does not, when liberated, give the gardener three maxims, but

tells him that beneath such a tree is a vessel full of gold. The villager

digs and finds the treasure, and then asks the bird how it was that he

could see a vessel full of gold under the earth, yet not discover the

snare above ground; to which the nightingale replies, like a good Muslim:

“Hast thou not heard that ‘when Fate descends caution is in vain’?”[306]

* * * * *

The _fabliau_ version, “Le Lai de l’Oiselet,” as found in Méon’s edition

of Barbazan’s collection, Paris, 1808, t. iii, 114, and (in modern

French prose) in Le Grand, ed. 1784, t. iii, 430, can hardly have been

the original of Lydgate’s poem, as may be seen from the following free

rendering of Le Grand’s abridgment (in which, however, he omits the

bird’s statement about the wonderful stone in its body), including a few

lines from Way’s agreeable English metrical translation:

Once on a time there was a noble castle surrounded by a wide domain of

field and forest, which was first owned by a worthy knight. His son and

successor wasted his patrimony in riotous living—“ye know well,” quoth

our poet, “that it needs but one spendthrift heir to bring great wealth

to nought”; and now the fair castle and domain had become the property of

a rich but sordid churl. This lofty and strong castle had been reared by

magic art. A pebble-paved stream flowed round a beauteous orchard, where

grew tall and shapely trees, flowers of every hue, and odorous plants;

and such was the fragrance of the air that it might have arrested a

man’s parting breath. In the midst of this fair scene a gushing fountain

sparkled in the sunlight, while near it a lofty pine tree’s deathless

verdure afforded grateful shade at noontide.

A marvellous bird had fixed his abode in this tufted pine, and ever he

sat and sang his lay of love in such sweet and moving strains that,

matched against his magic melody, the music of viol and full-toned harp

were as nought. Such was the power of this wondrous feathered minstrel

that his strains could create unutterable joy in the heart of the

despairing lover; and should they cease, and the songster take his flight

from this enchanted ground, then would all the goodly scene—castle,

trees, flowers, forest—fade away and forever disappear.

“Listen, listen, to my lay

(Thus the merry note did chime),

All who mighty Love obey,

Sadly wasting in your prime,

Clerk and laic, grave and gay;

Yet do ye, before the rest,

Gentle maidens, mark me tell!

Store my lesson in your breast,

Trust me it shall profit well:

Hear and heed me, and be blest!”[307]

The little warbler had no sooner ended his lay of love when he discovered

the churl, upon which the bird ordered the river to retire to its source,

the flowers to fade, the fruit to wither, and the castle to sink into

the earth; for a vile churl should not be suffered to dwell where the

beautiful and the brave had once held sweet communion. The churl, having

heard the melodious strains of the little bird, resolved to capture him

and sell him for a large sum. Accordingly he set his snare and caught the

feathered songster. “What injury have I done thee?” cried the little

bird. “And why dost thou doom me to death?” “Fear not,” said the churl;

“I only desire to hear thy song, and will get thee a fine cage and plenty

of seeds and kernels to eat. But sing thou must, else I’ll wring thy neck

and pick thy bones.” “Alas,” sighed the pretty captive, “who can sing

in prison? And even were I cooked, I could scarce furnish thee with one

mouthful.” Finding that all entreaties failed to move the hard-hearted

churl, the bird then promised that, if set free, he would tell him three

rare and precious secrets. This offer the churl could not resist, so he

freed the little bird, who straightway flew to the summit of the pine

tree, and then proceeded to disclose the three precious secrets. “First

then,” said the bird: “_Yield not a ready faith to every tale._” “Is

this all your secret?” quoth the fellow, in rising wrath. “I need it

not.” “Yet,” said the bird, “you seemed but lately to have forgot it—but

now you may hold it fast. My second secret is: _What is lost, ’tis wise

to bear with patience._” At this the churl chafed more and more. “My

third secret,” continued the bird, “is by far the best: _What good thou

hast, do not cast lightly away._” So saying, the little bird fluttered

his wings a moment, and then flew away; and immediately the castle sank

into the ground; and the fountain flowed back to its source; and the

fruits dropped withered from the trees; and the flowers faded—and all the

beauteous scene was melted into thin air.

_ADDITIONAL NOTES._

_Page 206—Five hundred pons._—It is possible that _pon_, like hun, is

another name of a pagoda, a gold coin of the value of 3½ rupís, which

has not been coined in the mints of India since the early part of this

century.

_Page 212—The Want of Children._—In the note on this subject I omitted

to include Hannah, mother of Samuel, the illustrious Hebrew seer (First

Book of Samuel, ch. i, v, 9-11, and 20).—Asiatics consider a son as the

“light,” or the “lamp,” of the household; and so it is said of a king, in

the opening of the Persian romance entitled _Bahár-i Dánish_, or Garden

and Spring, by ’Ináyatu-’lláh: “In the house of his prosperity the light

[_i.e._ a son], which is the hope of descending life, beamed not, as the

blossoms of his house [_i.e._ his women] produced not the fruit of his

wishes; for which he made grief his companion, and sat lonely, like a

point in the centre of the circle of sorrow”—poor fellow!

_Page 391—The Story of the Envious Vazír._—I cannot call to mind any

close parallel to this, but the incident upon which it turns, that of the

old hag’s artifice in procuring the lady’s dress, recalls the story of

“The Burnt Veil” in the Book of Sindibád, where a youth, desperately in

love with the virtuous wife of a merchant, employs a crone—who, like too

many of her sex in Muslim countries, went about evil-doing, in the guise

of a devotee—to cause the lady’s husband to put her away on suspicion of

her being unfaithful. But this slight resemblance is doubtless merely

fortuitous. The tale of the Envious Vazír exhibits more art than is

usually found in Eastern fictions, especially the _dénouement_, where the

Khoja’s wife cleverly causes the malignant Vazír to convict himself of

gross falsehood.

_Page 430_—The sentiment expressed to Sultan Mahmúd by the Independent

Man has its analogue in one of the countless traditions of Hatim Taï,

which goes thus: They asked Hatim: “Hast thou ever seen in the world any

one more noble-minded than thyself?” He replied: “One day I had offered

a sacrifice of 40 camels, and had gone out with some other chiefs to a

corner of the desert. I saw a thorn-cutter, who had gathered together

a bundle of thorns. I said to him: ‘Why goest thou not to share the

hospitality of Hatim Taï, when a crowd has assembled at his feast?’

He replied: ‘Whoever can eat of the bread of his own labour will not

put himself under an obligation to Hatim Taï.’ This man, in mind and

magnanimity, I consider greater than myself.”

_Page 483_—For the original of the story of the Two Merchants see Méon’s

edition of Barbazan’s collection of _Fabliaux_, Paris, 1808, tome i, 52,

“Des Deux Bons Amis Loiax,” and for the modern French prose version see

Le Grand’s _Fabliaux_, edition 1781, iii, 262.

_Page 499_—Mr. James Moir, Rector, Grammar School, Aberdeen, is the

authority (after his mother) for a story in the _Folk-Lore Journal_,

1884, vol. ii, pp. 68-71, which presents an interesting parallel to the

tale from Salsette, with a clever girl in place of Little John: Three

young girls are abandoned in a wood by their poverty-stricken parents,

because they have too many mouths to feed. The little maidens arrive at a

giant’s house and are granted shelter for the night. The giant resolves

to kill them and have them cooked for his breakfast in the morning.

In order to distinguish in the dark his own three daughters from the

stranger girls, he places “strae rapes” round the necks of the latter and

gold chains round his daughters’ necks, with the result that he puts his

own offspring to death. Mally Whuppie, the heroine, wakes her sisters

softly and they all escape. They next come to a king’s house, and Mally

and her sisters are to be married to the three sons of the king, provided

he should obtain possession of three wonderful things from the giant:

(1) his sword from the back of his bed; (2) his purse from beneath his

pillow; and (3) the ring from off the giant’s finger. Mally is successful

in her two first adventures, and though she is caught by the giant when

drawing off his ring, she ultimately escapes by a clever _ruse_.

_Page 510_—The story of the King and his Falcon occurs in many

collections, and perhaps one of the oldest versions of it is found in

Capt. R. C. Temple’s _Legends of the Panjáb_, vol. i, p. 467, in the

story of “Princess Niwal Dai,” where a snake is seen by the falcon to

drop poison into the cup.

_Page 519—The Rose of Bakáwalí._—I find my conjectures regarding the

construction of this romance are borne out by Garcin de Tassy (_Histoire

de la Littèrature Hindouie_, second edition, Paris, 1870, tome i, p.

606), in his account of a version in the Hindústání Selections by the

Sayyíd Husain, compiled by order of the Military Examiners’ Committee,

and published at Madras in the year 1849, in 2 vols. He says: “Le

second volume offre la reproduction, en 64 p., des deux tiers du

_Gul-i Bakâwalî_ d’après la rédaction de Nihâl Chand, dont j’ai donné

la traduction en français. Huçain s’arrête au mariage de Tâj ulmulûk

et de Bakâwalî, où devrait en effet finir de récit, le reste étant un

hors-d’œuvre tout à fait hindou.”

He describes a similar romance (tome ii, pp. 531, 532) by Rayhán

ed-Dín, of Bengal, written in rhymed couplets (_masnaví_) and entitled

_Khiyabán-i Rayhán_, or Parterres of the Divine Grace, A.H. 1212 (A.D.

1797-1798): “Cet ouvrage,” he says, “roule sur le même sujet que le

_Gul-i Bakâwalî_; mais, outre qu’il est tout en vers, il est beaucoup

plus long. Il se divise en quarante chapitres, intitulés chacun

_Gul-gaschnî_ (Abondance de roses).… Au surplus, il est bon de rappeler

ici ce que j’ai dit ailleurs, que le _Gul-i Bakâwalî_ est une légende

indienne qui est reproduite dans plusieurs rédactions différentes et même

dans le dialecte des Laskars du Bengale.”

Another tale, in Persian, entitled _Kissa-i Fírúz Sháh_, if not identical

with our romance, seems to be on the same plan, judging from the all-too

brief account given of it by Dr. H. H. Wilson in his _Descriptive

Catalogue of the Mackenzie Collection of Oriental MSS._, vol. ii, p. 137:

“The story of Firoz Shah, son of the king of Badakshán, who sought a

marvellous flower to cure his father.”

_Page 520_—In the so-called _Suite des Mille et Une Nuits_, by Chavis and

Cazotte (Story of Habíb, the Arabian Knight), the Amír Salamis weeps

himself blind on hearing a false report of his son Habíb’s death. The

hero, when he comes to know of this sore affliction, is told that the

only remedy is to be found among the treasures of Solomon, preserved in

a cavern, and going there he finds two flat opals fixed as eyes into a

visor, which he takes away, and with them restores his father’s sight.

And the Rabbins say that Jacob wept himself totally blind from grief at

the reported death of his son Joseph, and he recovered his sight many

years afterwards by applying to his eyes the garment of Joseph, which his

brethren brought from Egypt.

_Page 529_—There can be no doubt that the Panjábí legend of Rasálú’s

game with Sirikap and the story of the Prince and Dilbar are cousins,

so to say, not far removed. In the former Rasálú makes it one of the

conditions of sparing the life of the vanquished Sirikap that he must

consent to have his forehead branded with a red-hot iron, “in token of

his vassalage,” and another condition is that he forgive his daughter

whom he had imprisoned. In the latter the hero compels Dilbar to liberate

his four brethren, but she insists on first branding them on their backs,

“in token of the state of slavery to which they had been reduced.”—It

seems to me that in the earlier part of the Panjábí legend something must

have dropped out in connection with Rasálú’s rescuing the ants and the

hedgehog from the river (p. 525), since it is usual in folk-tales for

“thankful animals” to requite their benefactor by rendering him signal

services.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Story-telling has been quite an art in the East time out of

mind. Mrs. Meer Hasan Ali, in her _Observations on the Mussulmans of

India_, vol. ii, pp. 81, 82, says: “Many of the ladies entertain women

companions, whose chief business is to tell stories and fables to their

employer when she is composing herself to sleep. When the lady is fairly

asleep the story is stayed, and the companion resumes her employment

when the next nap is sought by her mistress. Among the higher classes

the males also indulge in the same practice of being talked to sleep by

their men slaves, and it is a certain introduction, with either sex, to

the favour of their employer when one of these dependants has acquired

the happy art of ‘telling the khánie’ (fable) with an agreeable voice

and manner. The more they embellish a tale by flights of their versatile

imaginations, so much the greater the merit of the rehearser in the

opinion of the listeners.”—In the Book of Esther, ch. vi, 1, we read that

on a certain night “could not the king sleep, and he commanded to bring

the book of the records of the chronicles, and they were read before

the king.” Well was it for the Hebrew bondsmen that Ahasuerus did not

call for a story-teller instead of the “state journal”!—The practice of

sleepless khalífs and sultans sending for story-tellers is referred to

in many Eastern tales. For an account of public reciters of tales and

romances see Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_.

[2] But are even the best novels of these days of grace marked by very

much “originality”? Do not prolific novelists _repeat themselves_? Have

they not, for the most part, a limited set of characters, which reappear

in each succeeding novel? In short, may it not be truly said of them,

as Burton (not he of _The Nights_, but he of _The Melancholy_) says of

authors in general: “They weave the same web, twist and untwist the same

rope, and make new books as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring

out of one vessel into another”?

[3] The following particulars regarding the author and his work are

derived from Dr. Charles Rieu’s _Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in

the British Museum_, vol. ii, pp. 767-8, Add. 7619, and Or. 1370; and

from Mr. F. F. Arbuthnot’s useful and interesting little work, _Persian

Portraits: a Sketch of Persian History, Literature, and Politics_

(London: Quaritch), p. 119. The title of _Shamsah ú Kahkahah_, under

which Mr. Arbuthnot describes this collection, is taken from the names of

a Witch and a Vazír who figure in the second _báb_.

[4] There is another, but wholly different, Tamil tale, with the same

title, which is described in Taylor’s _Catalogue Raisonné of Oriental

Manuscripts in the Government Library, Madras_, vol. iii, page 460: “A

king’s daughter forms an attachment at first sight to the stupid son of

another king, who cannot read the writing which she conveys to him, but

shows it to a diseased wretch, who tells him it warns him to flee for his

life. The king’s daughter is imposed upon by the leper, kills herself,

and becomes a disembodied evil spirit, haunting a choultry (or serai for

travellers), whom during the night, if they do not answer aright to her

cries, she strangles, and vampyre-like sucks their blood.” To be brief,

the famous Tamil poetess Avaiyar gets leave of the people to sleep in the

choultry in order to put an end to this calamity, and having three times

composed a recondite stanza from the strange cries, the evil spirit owns

herself conquered and departs. She is re-born as an exceedingly clever

princess, and tests the learning and poetical skill of her suitors, till

at last she is won by a poor student.—It will be readily supposed that

the chief merit of this story consists in the poetical contests.

[5] The stories related to the king by Prince Bakhtyár, though calculated

to caution him against rash judgments, have nothing in common with those

contained in the Book of Sindibád; while the tales told by Er-Rahwan

(which have been translated by Sir Richard F. Burton, and included in

the first volume of his _Supplemental Nights_) are of a miscellaneous

character—grave and gay, wise and witty—his sole object being to

prolong his life by thus amusing the king. The Vazír’s recitals are of

considerable importance to “storiologists”: we find among them analogues

of Chaucer’s Man of Law’s Tale, Pardoner’s Tale, and Merchant’s Tale, and

of the well-known legend of St. Eustache (or Placidus), which occurs in

the _Gesta Romanorum_, and from which the mediæval metrical romances of

_Sir Isumbras_, _Octavian_, _Sir Eglamour_, and _Sir Torrent of Portugal_

were derived.

[6] The Tamil text of THE KING AND HIS FOUR MINISTERS has been printed.

Through the kindness of the Pandit, I possess two copies, of different

dates, one of which, printed in 1887, has, by way of frontispiece, four

figures, in profile, like those in Egyptian paintings, all looking in the

same direction, with their hands raised and the palms joined, in respect

to the prayer to Ganesa, which is on the opposite page. The first is the

minister; the second is the king, with a crown not unlike the Pope’s

tiara, and a sword on his shoulder; the third and fourth are devotees,

whose clothing is rather scanty.

[7] “Abrégé du roman hindoustani intitulé la Rose de Bakâwalî, par M.

le professeur Garcin de Tassy”: in _Nouveau Journal Asiatique_, tome

xvi, p. 193ff. and p. 338ff. This has been reprinted along with other

translations by the learned Professor.

[8] A Khoja is a master of a household, also a teacher; in the

former acceptation it is somewhat equivalent to the old English

“goodman.”—Gibb’s _History of the Forty Vezírs_, p. 33.

[9] The humái is a fabulous bird, supposed to bestow prosperity on any

person who is overshadowed by its wings.

[10] Oriental writers frequently descant on the advantages of travel; not

only because it enlarges the mind (for “home-keeping youths have ever

homely wits”), but as a means of acquiring wealth. For some examples, see

my _Book of Sindibád_.

[11] The name generally given by the Arabs and Persians to the districts

of Northern Africa west of Egypt.

[12] Belief in judicial astrology—in the influence of the planets over

the fortunes of men—prevails throughout the East, as it did in Europe

until comparatively recent times; indeed the delusion appears to have its

adherents in our own country, even in these “double-distilled” days, if

it be true that _Zadkiel’s Almanack_ has a very large circulation. Truly

“error dies hard!”—An Asiatic, before setting out on a journey, being

married, or beginning any important affair, always consults an astrologer

to learn the precise lucky moment. In one of the _Játakas_, or Buddhist

Birth-Stories, a man having missed making a good match for his son,

because he had been told by a spiteful astrologer that the day proposed

for the nuptials was inauspicious, a wise old fellow shrewdly remarked:

“What is the use of luck in the stars? Surely getting the girl is the

luck!” and recited this stanza:

While the star-gazing fool is waiting for luck, the luck goes by;

The star of luck is luck, and not any star in the sky.

In the appendix to my edition of the Persian story-book entitled

_Bakhtyár Náma_, pp. 218-223, may be found some rather droll anecdotes of

the blunders of astrologers.

[13] This custom is observed by Muslims in compliance with the precept

of Muhammed: “Whoever,” said he, “believes in God and the day of

resurrection, must respect his guest; and the time of being kind to him

is one day and one night; and the period of entertaining him is _three

days_; and after that, if he does it longer, it benefits him more; but

it is not right for a guest to stay in the house of his host so long as

to incommode him.” In the introduction to the _Arabian Nights_, King

Shahriyár entertains his brother, Shah Zamán, three days, and on the

fourth he accompanies him a day’s journey and takes leave of him.

[14] Henna is a preparation made from the leaves of the Egyptian privet

(_Lawsonia inermis_), with which women in the East stain the tips of

their fingers, the palms of their hands, etc. It imparts a yellowish red

or deep orange colour, which disappears in a fortnight or three weeks,

when it has to be renewed.—See Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_, ch. i.

[15] See note on page 8.—We have in this passage the _motif_ of the

romance throughout.

[16] “Hell has no fury like a woman scorned!” Besides, the virtuous youth

might not keep the secret of her intended intrigue (for such is evidently

to be understood) to himself.

[17] Stories, such as this, of unfaithful wives outwitting their

husbands, with similar mischances, are common in Eastern collections; and

the present well-told tale would probably have been very eagerly adapted

by the early Italian novelists, had they known it, among whom, indeed, it

has more than one analogue.

[18] A tomán is a Persian gold coin which has varied much in value at

different periods; at present it is worth about 7s. 2d. of our money.

[19] The húrís (or, as the term is often written, houries) are the

black-eyed nymphs of the Muslim Paradise, of whom Muhammed has promised

seventy to each believer.

[20] One of the Egyptian magicians who “withstood Moses,” mentioned by

Arabian writers: their chief was called Simeon, and among the eminent

masters of the “art magic” were Sadhúr and Ghadúr, Jaath and Mossa, Waran

and Lamán, each of whom came attended with his disciples, amounting in

all to several thousands.—St. Paul, in his second epistle to Timothy,

iii, 8, gives the names of two of the magicians as Jannes and Jambres.

[21] The notion of the life or heart of an ogre, witch, etc., being

extraneous to the body and concealed in some object—usually very

difficult to reach by the heroes who are in their power—is often the

subject of the popular fictions of all countries. What is probably the

oldest extant instance of this occurs in an Egyptian romance, preserved

among the hieratic papyri in the British Museum, which bears to have been

written more than 3000 years ago, or about the period when Moses was,

in his youth, at the court of Pharaoh. The “curious” reader may find

numerous other examples cited in my _Popular Tales and Fictions_, vol. i,

pp. 347-351.

[22] Parrots often play important parts in Asiatic tales: here, however,

the “intelligent” bird, as will be seen presently, works only mischief.

[23] It does not appear from the preceding part of the narrative that the

hero received any ring from a “neighbour’s wife.” Perhaps something has

been omitted by a copyist of the Persian text.

[24] Many an honest fellow, besides the generous-hearted Obayd, having

been thus beggared by the rapacity of an Asiatic despot, has turned

robber in self-defence.

[25] _i.e._, Persia.

[26] An ashrafí is worth about ten shillings.

[27] It is a favourite plan for extricating an impecunious hero out of

his difficulties in Eastern fictions to represent him as finding a great

treasure in a ruin. And no doubt such an incident has often occurred

in Asiatic countries, where—in the absence of such institutions as

banks—money and jewels are usually concealed in the earth, old wells,

etc., lest the sovereign or one of his greedy ministers should come to

know of any person possessing much wealth, and forthwith confiscate it.

[28] By “Rúm” (or Roum) Asiatics generally mean Europe, at least Eastern

Europe, and “the land of the Franks” has the same meaning.

[29] This incident recalls popular tales current in our own country

of witches turning themselves into cats, and some bold fellow smiting

off a paw of one of the unholy sisterhood thus transformed, and next

day a woman suspected of witchcraft being found in her bed with one

of her hands apparently newly amputated.—Similar stories are told of

_werwolves_, or men having the power of transforming themselves for a

time into wolves.

[30] Hatim was chief of the Arab tribe of Taï, shortly before the advent

of Muhammed, and so highly celebrated for his boundless generosity that

at the present day in Muslim countries no greater compliment can be paid

to an open-handed man than to call him “another Hatim.”

[31] A gold dínar is worth about ten shillings.

[32] “_Darb er-Ramal_, or geomancy, by which, from certain marks made at

random on paper, or on sand (whence, according to some, its name), the

professors pretend to discover past, passing, and future events, is, I am

informed, mainly founded on astrology.”—Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_, ch.

xii.

[33] In the East, as in the West, religion is often assumed as a cloak

of villainy; and the half-naked darveshes who prowl through Muslim towns

and villages, blowing their horns and bellowing their eternal “hakk!

hakk!” are for the most part lewd rascals; and not a whit better are most

of those who affect to live as hermits. Muhammed said that “there is no

monkery in Islám,” which is true in one respect, viz., that while a monk

must remain a monk all his life, a darvesh may at any time toss away his

begging-bowl and return to his former station in society.

[34] Fars, or Farsistán, is a province of Persia, the capital of which

is Shíráz, so much celebrated by Háfiz and other Persian poets. As the

Neapolitans have their favourite saying, “See Naples, and die,” so the

Persians say that “If Muhammed had tasted the pleasures of Shíráz, he

would have begged Allah to make him immortal there.”

[35] This monarch is not to be confounded with that Farídún who was the

sixth of the first dynasty (Píshdádí) of ancient Persian kings.

[36] Signet-rings were commonly used throughout the East from the

earliest period of which any records have been preserved. When a king

gave his signet to any one he was thereby empowered to act in the king’s

name. Thus in the Book of Esther we read that King Ahasuerus took his

ring from off his finger and gave it first to Haman and afterwards to

Mordecai.

[37] In other words, the king resigned his throne in favour of the

prince. It seems to have been a common practice for Oriental potentates,

at a certain period of life, to retire from the cares of state and

turn ascetics—which was very proper, if all the tales be true of their

sanguinary doings!

[38] Al-Mu’tasim Billah, was the fourth son of the Khalíf Harún

er-Rashíd, and succeeded his second brother, Al-Mámún, A.D. 833. He was

the first of the Khalífs who added to his name the title of _Billah_,

which is equivalent to the _Dei Gracia_ of Christian sovereigns.

Al-Mu’tasim was the 8th Khalíf of the house of Abbas; was born on the

8th month (Shaban) of the year; ascended the throne in the 218th year

of the Hijra; lived 48 years; and died on the 18th of the month Rabí

I; he fought 8 battles; built 8 palaces; begat 8 sons and 8 daughters;

had 8,000 slaves; and had 8,000,000 dínars and 80,000 dirhams [a dirham

is a silver coin of the value of sixpence] in his treasury at his

death;—whence Oriental historians gave him the name of Al-Musamman, or

the Octonary.

[39] When a Persian monarch desires to show his special regard for any

great man who has come to his court, he presents him with a _khil’at_, or

robe of honour, which is often very valuable.

[40] Compared with this what was the archery feat of Locksley (_alias_

Robin Hood), as described in _Ivanhoe_? It seems to have been a common

practice in Persia to suspend a finger-ring as the mark and prize in an

archery competition. A story is told of a Sháh who, while on a pleasure

excursion to Massala Shíráz, appointed an archery contest for the

amusement of himself and his courtiers. He caused a gold ring, set with

a valuable gem, to be fixed on the dome of ’Asád, and it was announced

that whosoever should send an arrow through the ring should obtain it as

the reward of his skill. The four hundred skilled archers forming the

royal body-guard each shot at the ring without success. It happened that

a boy on a neighbouring house-top was at the same time diverting himself

with a little bow, when one of his arrows, shot at random, went through

the ring. The boy, having thus obtained the prize, immediately burned his

bow, shrewdly observing that he had done so in order that the reputation

of this his first feat should never be impaired. (Sa’dí’s _Gulistân_, or

Rose-Garden, ch. iii). The famous Persian poet and robber-chief Kurroglú

had a band of 777 men under his command, and Demurchy-oglú (_i.e._ the

son of the blacksmith) offered himself for a vacancy. Kurroglú, in order

to test the nerve of the candidate, bade him sit down; then taking an

apple from his pocket and a ring from his finger, he stuck the ring in

the apple, and ordered one of his men to remove the cap from the head of

the new comer. Having placed the apple on the young man’s head, Kurroglú

rode to one side and bent his bow and continued to pass one arrow after

another through the ring. Out of sixty arrows that were shot not one went

astray. (Chodzko’s _Popular Poetry of Persia_, pp. 88, 89). Here we have

the feat of William Tell—with a difference.

[41] The duty of the muezzin is to chant the call to prayer (_adán_) from

the minaret of the mosque five times every day. Blind men are generally

employed as muezzins, in order that they should not overlook the

terraces, or flat roofs, of the houses, where the inmates generally sleep

during very hot weather.

[42] The Súfís are the mystics of Islám, and profess to have attained,

by meditation, so advanced a stage of spiritual perfection as to render

the teachings of the Kurán and the ordinary religious observances quite

unnecessary to them. They are generally considered by the “orthodox”

as arrant infidels. For an interesting account of some of their public

“religious” performances, see the chapter on the Dancing Darveshes in

Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_.

[43] Muhammed.

[44] In primitive times even kings were proud of their skill in the art

of cookery. Thus in the charming story of Nala and Damayanti (an episode

of the great Hindú epic, the _Mahábhárata_) the good Rájá is recognised

by his devoted wife, who had been long separated from him, by some meat

of his dressing. And in the other grand Indian epic, the _Rámáyana_, the

demi-god Rámá is represented as killing and cooking the dinner of his

spouse Sitá and himself:

Their thirst allayed, the princes ply the chase,

And a fat stag soon falls beneath their arrows.

A fire they kindle next, and dress their prize;

Then, offering to the gods and manes made,

With Sitá they the social banquet share.

And readers of the _Arabian Nights_ will remember how young Bedr ed-Dín

Hasan was discovered by the delicious tarts for the making of which he

had been always famed.

[45] One of the signs of the Zodiac.

[46] Wrestling has been from the most ancient times a favourite sport

in Persia, as it has also been among the Japanese. Due allowance must,

of course, be made for the Oriental exaggeration here indulged in, of

representing our hero as throwing two hundred men in succession;—still,

the author is not inconsistent, for did not he, single-handed, lay about

him boldly and scatter the gang of robbers in the mosque and prove more

than a match for the townsfolk?

[47] I presume by the “Sun of Prophecy” is meant Muhammed. The “Court of

Unity” is Heaven.

[48] This little story is evidently intended as a satire on ascetics

whose notions of religious duties spring from their own foolish minds,

and who are often held up to ridicule by the most eminent Persian poets

and moralists.

[49] In spite of the vigilance with which women in the East are guarded

from communication with lovers, it is said that men frequently gain

access to harams disguised in female apparel, with or without the

connivance of the “neutral personages” who are appointed to keep watch

and ward over the private apartments.

[50] This recalls an incident in the Muslim legend of King Solomon’s

temporary degradation, in consequence of his having fallen into

the heinous sin of idolatry—a legend adapted from the Jewish

traditionists—when “the wisest man the world e’er saw” became an outcast

and a vagrant, and took service with a fisherman; his wages being two

fishes each day.

[51] The wise and witty author of _Hudibras_ partly expresses the same

sentiment in these lines:

Man is supreme lord and master

Of his own ruin and disaster,

Controls his fate, but nothing less

In ordering his own happiness:

For all his care and providence

Is too feeble a defence

To render it secure and certain

Against the injuries of fortune;

And oft, in spite of all his wit,

Is lost with one unlucky hit,

And ruined with a circumstance

And mere punctilio of a chance.

Butler’s _Remains_.

But the Hindú sages give forth no uncertain sound on this subject, as

may be seen from these verses, which are cited in the _Hitopadesa_, a

Sanskrit version of the celebrated Fables of Bidpaï:

“As from a lump of clay a workman makes whatever he pleases, in like

manner a man obtains the destiny prepared by himself.”

“Fortune waits upon that lion of a man who exerts himself. Abject fellows

say: ‘It is to be given by destiny.’ Put forth manliness with all your

strength. If when effort has been made it succeed not, what blame is

there in such a case?”

[52] Muslims regard Lukman as the type of human wisdom. He is said to

have been an Ethiopian slave and served in the army of the Hebrew king

David. Many striking sayings and fables are ascribed to him, but it is

more than doubtful whether he composed any apologues.

[53] The loves of Laylá and Majnún—the Romeo and Juliet of the East—have

formed the theme of several very beautiful Persian and Turkish poems.

Majnún (which means “mad from love:” his proper name was Kays) was the

son of an Arab chief and deeply enamoured of a maiden of another tribe;

and on her being married to a foreign and wealthy suitor he became

distraught, and fled to the wilderness. When Laylá became a widow and met

her lover once more she found him a raving maniac and died soon after.

Majnún expired on her tomb.

[54] Muslim poets are never weary of harping on the fancied love of the

nightingale (_bulbul_) for the rose, to which he is supposed to pour out

his nightly plaint.

[55] “The philosopher,” says a Persian poet, “died of grief and distress,

while the blockhead found a treasure in a ruin.”

[56] It is rare indeed to find in Eastern tales such sensible

observations put in the mouths of sultans, who are for the most part mere

lay figures or credulous fools. Mr. R. L. Stevenson has happily described

the monarchs that figure in the _Arabian Nights_ as “wooden kings.” Here,

however, we have in this sultan a really sagacious man.

[57] The renowned Harún er-Rashíd was not the only Oriental monarch fond

of prowling through his capital after nightfall in disguise: Indian kings

of the olden time, long before the Muhammedan invasion and subjugation,

are said to have made it their regular practice. King James the Fifth of

Scotland was wont to adopt all sorts of disguises and go about in quest

of _amorous_ adventures.

[58] Blighted, as they firmly believed, by the mere sight of the

_unlucky_ man.

[59] Copies of the Kurán are always very beautifully written and often

illuminated with great taste and splendour, and are very costly. Poor

Shoayb may, however, have been induced to select a Kurán out of the

robbers’ booty rather from motives of _piety_ than from any desire of

gain.—I may mention that, although the art of printing is now practised

both in Persia and Turkey, copies of the Kurán are still multiplied (or

were so till very lately) by handwriting, from a superstitious notion

that the impure materials employed in printing would profane the sacred

text.

[60] Friday is the Muslim Sunday—called _El-Jum’á_, or the Assembly; but

it is not observed as a day exclusively devoted to religious exercises,

like the “Lord’s Day” among our Protestant “evangelicals,” whose motto

seems to be, “Let us all be unhappy together,” on that day which they

ought rather to regard as a day of pious rejoicing, could they be

consistent; nor are the superstitious notions associated with the Sabbath

in Jewish minds entertained by Muslims regarding the day of _El-Jum’á_.

[61] The number _forty_ seems to have been always a favourite among

Eastern peoples, and it occurs in the Bible many times in connection

with important events. Thus the Flood continued _forty_ days (Gen. vii,

17); Joseph and his kinsmen mourned _forty_ days for their father Jacob

(Gen. l, 3); thrice Moses fasted _forty_ days (Exod. xxiv, 18, xxxiv,

28, and Deut. ix, 9-25); during _forty_ days the Hebrew spies searched

Canaan (Numb. xiii, 25); Goliath defied the Hebrew army for _forty_

days (1 Sam. xvii, 16); Elijah fasted _forty_ days (1 Kings xix, 8);

Nineveh was to be destroyed after _forty_ days (Jonah iii, 4); _forty_

days Ezekiel bore the iniquities of the house of Judah, a day for a year

(Ezek. iv, 6); Christ was tempted by Satan during _forty_ days (Matt.

iv, 2, and Mark i, 13), and he continued _forty_ days on earth after his

resurrection (Acts i, 3); the Israelites were condemned to wander in the

wilderness _forty_ years (Numb. xiv, 33).—Muslims mourn _forty_ days for

their dead; and they deem a woman ceremonially unclean during _forty_

days after childbirth: among the Israelites the period was forty days

when she had given birth to a male child and eighty days in the case of

a female child.—In the present romance, our unlucky hero, Nassar, is

directed by the hermit’s “last will,” as above, to spend _forty_ days in

prayer for the restoration of the fairies’ fountain; he shoots an arrow

through a finger-ring _forty_ times (p. 100); but his too expert archery

caused an accident to the king, from the effects of which his majesty

did not recover until he had been “_forty_ days under medical treatment”

(p. 102); poor Shah Manssur was in the power of the cruel sorceress for

nearly _forty_ days (p. 26); and the son of the king of Tytmyran was

tossed about on the sea in a boat for _forty_ days (p. 73). To conclude

this long note: _forty_ is the usual number of a gang of robbers in

Eastern tales—that of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves” will at once occur

to the reader; and we have another example in the diverting story of

“Ahmed the Cobbler” (Malcolm’s _Sketches of Persia_), where the king’s

treasury is plundered by _forty_ robbers.

[62] Excepting, surely, “the shark and the sun-fish dark”!

[63] “Sometimes it happens,” says our author, “that a man is such a

favourite of fortune that if another try to injure him even that will

turn to his advantage. Good men refrain in thought and word and deed

from injuring their fellow men; but evil-minded men resemble scorpions

in their nature, stinging everybody without cause, and with no profit to

themselves, while the objects of their hatred nevertheless prosper;—as

will appear from the following story of the adventures of Farrukhrúz,

whose success was promoted by the enmity which the vazírs of the king of

Yaman entertained against him.”

[64] A sensible man! He was well aware that frequently “riches take unto

themselves wings and flee away.” The sons of “self-made” men seldom turn

out to be of much account—probably because fathers such as Khoja Marján

are not often found among those whose sole aim in life has been to “mak’

siller”!

[65] Or Yemen: the ancient Arabia Felix.

[66] “Forty days” again!—see _ante_, note on pp. 140, 141.

[67] A kind of witch’s broomstick, apparently. It is to be regretted that

our author (or the holy hermit) did not specify the other properties

of this wonderful staff! Doubtless it also provided the possessor with

“meat, drink, and clothing,” in common with similar magical articles

which figure in the fairy tales of all peoples.

[68] Muslims have derived from the Jewish cabbalists the notion of the

marvellous efficacy of the “unutterable Name” of God—called by the Arabs

_El-Ism el-Aazam_, “the Most Great Name.” It was, they say, engraved

on Solomon’s signet-ring, by means of which he subdued all the genii

and demons, save one rebellious and powerful genie called Sakhr, who

concealed himself in an island in mid-ocean. But the Wise King “took up”

with strange women—with the daughters of idolatrous kings whom he had

conquered in battle; and to one of those he gave his ring one unlucky

day, to keep for him while he was at his bath. The demon Sakhr, who had

been prowling invisibly about the palace, in hopes of catching his royal

enemy at an unguarded moment, assumed Solomon’s form and readily obtained

possession of the wonder-working ring, and sat on the throne of Israel,

while Solomon—whose appearance was at once changed—was driven forth, to

wander up and down the land as a beggar. To be brief, the ring was, after

long years, found in the maw of a fish—Sakhr having thrown it away when

he fled, on being detected as an imposter by the reading of the Law in

his presence—and Solomon “came to his own again.” Solomon’s signet-ring

figures frequently in Muslim romances and stories: it was with this

magical ring that he sealed the copper vessels into which he conjured

certain rebellious genii, and then caused them to be thrown into the sea;

it also gave him power over all creatures on the earth and in the waters,

and over the eight winds, which, at his command, wafted through the air,

whithersoever he pleased, himself and his army on the marvellous carpet

woven for him by genii—to which the poet Bahá-ed-Dín Zuhayr, of Egypt,

thus alludes in an address to his lady-love:

“And now I bid the very wind

To speed my loving message on,

As though I might its fury bind,

Like Solomon.”

The wind is a common messenger of love in the amatory poetry of the

East;—thus a pre-Islamite Arabian poet exclaims in apostrophising his

beloved: “O may the western breeze tell thee of my ardent desire to

return home!”

[69] I reproduce the following notes on treasure-trees from my paper on

the Franklin’s Tale (entitled “The Damsel’s Rash Promise”) in _Originals

and Analogues of some of Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales”_ printed for the

Chaucer Society, p. 336:

In the _Kathá Sarit Ságara_—an ancient Sanskrit story-book—we read of

trees with golden trunks, branches of jewels, the clear white flowers of

which were clusters of pearls; golden lotuses, etc. Aladdin, it will be

remembered, found in the cave, where was deposited the magic lamp, trees

bearing “fruit” of emeralds and other gems of great price, with which he

took care to stuff his pockets.

In the mediæval romance of Alexander we are told how the world-conqueror

jousted with Porus for his kingdom, and having overthrown him, he

found in the palace of the vanquished monarch innumerable treasures,

and amongst others a vine of which the branches were gold, the leaves

emerald, and the fruit of other precious stones—a fiction, says Dunlop,

which seems to have been suggested by the golden vine which Pompey

carried away from Jerusalem.

The garden of Duke Isope, as described in the _Tale of Beryn_ (Supp.

Canterbury Tales: Ch. Soc., p. 84), had a similar tree:

“In mydward of this garden stant a feire tre,

Of alle maner levis that under sky [there] be,

I-forgit and i-fourmyd, eche in his degre,

Of sylvir, and of goldè fyne, that lusty ben to see.”

As the treasures coveted by the Arimaspians were guarded by griffins,

and the golden apples of the Hesperides by a dragon, so this garden of

Duke Isope was kept by eight “tregetours,” or magicians, who looked like

“abominabill wormys,” enough to frighten the bravest man on earth.

The Italian poet Boiardo, in the 12th canto of his _Orlando Innamorato_,

represents the virtuous Tisbina as promising her love to Iroldo, who is

madly enamoured of her, on condition that he perform a certain task for

her: “Beyond the forest of Barbary,” says she, “is a fair garden, which

has an iron wall. Herein entrance can be obtained by four gates: one

Life keeps, Death, another, Poverty, another, and Riches, another. Whoso

goes therein must depart by the opposite gate. In the midst is a tree of

vast height, far as an arrow may mount aloft; that tree is of marvellous

price, for whenever it blossoms it puts forth pearls, and it is called

the Treasure-Tree, for it has apples of emerald and boughs of gold. A

branch of this tree,” adds the fair Tisbina, “I must have, otherwise I am

in heavy case.”

[70] A species of inferior _jinni_, or genie.

[71] It is a general practice of Muslim men to shave their heads,

leaving in front a _kakull_, or tuft of hair, in order, according to

some writers, that an enemy, in the day of battle, after cutting off the

head of any of the faithful whom he had slain, should have wherewithal

to carry it, and not require to pollute it by thrusting his fingers into

the mouth. This bears some resemblance to the tuft which North American

Indians wear, as a defiance to their foes—to scalp them if they can! The

tuft on the Muslim’s head, however, serves another purpose, in being

allowed to grow for some time before he sets out on the pilgrimage to

Makka, so that, arrived there, he can twist it round his head like a

turban, as a guard against the fierce Arabian sun. The Bráhmans also

shave their heads, leaving a similar tuft, which, like the “pig-tail” of

a Chinaman, is a mark of respectability, and its removal is a very great

disgrace.

[72] Iskandar, or Sikandar: Alexander the Great, of whom Muslim writers

relate many wonderful stories—especially the Persian poet Nizamí, in his

famous _Sikandar-Náma_, or Alexander-Book.—Jamshíd was the fourth of the

first (or Píshdádí) dynasty of ancient Persian kings. He is said to have

founded Persepolis, and introduced the solar year, and ordered the first

day of it, when the sun entered Aries, to be celebrated by a magnificent

festival, which is still observed in Persia, and is called the _Nú Rúz_,

or the New Day. Of his goblet, above referred to, _Jam-i-Jamshíd_, or

the Cup of Jamshíd, marvellous things are related: it mirrored the whole

world, foreshadowed future events, and so forth. It is said that such was

its lustre that it dazzled all beholders, and hence poets have found it a

convenient simile for the brilliant eyes of a pretty girl.

[73] It does not appear that the astrologer’s prediction was

fulfilled—though a blind man once shot a crow, but, like the astrologer,

for one hit he missed a thousand times. A good story is told of an essay

in the capacity of astrologer on the part of Anvarí, the celebrated

Persian poet. It so happened that in 1186 A.D. (581 or 582 A.H.) there

was a conjunction of all the planets in the sign of Libra. Anvarí

predicted a storm which would eradicate trees and destroy all buildings.

When the fatal day arrived, it was perfectly calm, and there was the

whole year so little wind that the people were unable to winnow their

corn. The unlucky poet-astrologer was obliged to fly to Balkh, where he

died, in the reign of Sultan Alá-ed-Dín Takash, A.D. 1200 (A.H. 596).

Astrologers having predicted for the year 1523 incessant rains and

disastrous floods, the good abbot of St. Bartholomew, in Smithfield,

London, built a house at Harrow-on-the-Hill, and stored it with

provisions. Many people followed his example and repaired to high places,

in order to escape the expected deluge. But no extraordinary rains

occurring, the disappointed soothsayers pacified the people by confessing

themselves mistaken just one hundred years in their calculation!—Readers

of Chaucer will remember how the arch-rogue Clerk Nicolas, for his own

wicked ends, predicted, to his simple landlord, the carpenter, that a

flood was presently to come upon the earth, greater than that which Noah

and his family “rode-out” in the Ark.

Mrs. Meer Hasan Ali, in her interesting _Observations on the Mussulmans

of India_, says: “It is wonderful the influence which a _najúm_ [_i.e._

astrologer] acquires in the houses of many great men in India. Wherever

one of those idlers is entertained he is the oracle to be consulted on

all occasions. I know those who submit with a childlike docility to the

najúm’s opinion, when their better reason, if allowed sway, would decide

against the astrologer’s prediction. If the najúm says it is not proper

for Nawáb Sahib and his lady to eat, drink, or sleep, to take medicine,

to give away or accept any gift, the najúm has said it, and the najúm

must be right.” (Vol. i, pp. 69, 70.)

[74] Akhfash was a Muhammedan professor of grammar and literature who

was so unlucky as not to be able to attract any disciples; he therefore

trained a goat and lectured to it, the docile animal approving, doubting,

or denying his propositions as occasion required, and in course of time,

when it had attracted a very large number of scholars, its functions

ceased.—_E. Rehatsek, the translator._

[75] We have in this scene, between the simple dweller in the desert, the

infatuated Farrukhrúz, and the Amír, a capital example of Oriental humour.

[76] Thus the sultan received our hero on a footing of equality with

himself, and the scene recalls the meeting of the two brothers, King

Sháhriyár and Sháh Zamán in the opening of the _Arabian Nights_.

[77] Notwithstanding all that has been written by European orientalists

during the last half-century regarding the Muhammedan religion, the

notion is still widely prevalent that, according to the Kuránic

teachings, women have not souls. The idea is quite preposterous, and must

have been set afloat by bigoted Christian “champions” who wished to throw

discredit on the doctrines of Islám. In the Kurán future rewards are

promised and future punishments are threatened to men and women alike.

And in Muslim stories, which may be considered as faithfully reflecting

the general religious belief, women are often spoken of as having gone

to Paradise at their death, while it is not unusual for the transcriber

of a book to insert at the end a prayer for the souls of his father and

mother. Moreover, among the traditions preserved of Muhammed is the

following, which shows that the Founder of Islám could occasionally

indulge in a little harmless pleasantry: An old woman came to him one

day, and asked what should be the lot of such as she in Paradise. The

Prophet replied, that no old women would be there, upon which the poor

crone set up a loud wail, but Muhammed presently soothed her by smilingly

explaining that all the old women would become young when they entered

Paradise.

[78] Yet again “forty days”!

[79] The name of the king is derived from Alakápuri, the city of Kavéra,

the god of riches, and Alakésa is therefore an appellation signifying a

wealthy king.

[80] The Pandit remarks that this kind of statement often occurs in

stories in proof of the just reign of a monarch. The Hindú idea is, that

so long as justice and equity characterised a king’s rule, even beasts

naturally inimical were disposed to live in friendship. When timely

rain fails or famine stalks through the land, turning his eyes from the

natural causes, the orthodox Hindú will say that such a king is now

reigning over them unjustly, and hence the calamity.

[81] According to a Persian writer, “she is a perfect woman who considers

her husband as the most accomplished of men, and thinks all the sons of

Adam beside quite unworthy of a transient glance from the corner of her

half-shut eyes.” And in the _Mahábhárata_ we are told that “she is a good

wife whose husband is as her very life.”

[82] “Distinguishing the peculiarities of an animal by its footsteps,

etc.,” says the Pandit, “is often met with in Indian stories. Precisely

the reverse of this is the tale of the four blind men who disputed about

the form of an elephant. One of them had felt only the elephant’s ear,

and said it was like a winnow; another examined the breast and a foreleg,

and said it was like a thick stump of wood; the third felt the trunk and

said it was like a heavy crook; while the fourth, having touched only the

tail, declared it was like a sweeping rake.”

[83] A pagoda is now of the value of about 7s. 6d.

[84] Sambhavi and Mahámayi are among the numerous names of Kálí, the

goddess of destruction, called also Parvati and Durga: the daughter of

Himálaya, sovereign of the snowy mountains. She is described as terrible

in form and very irascible in temper. In her amiable form she is called

Bhaváni. To address a deity by a number of appellations, as above, is

considered as the readiest way to secure favour.—Mr. Natésa Sástrí, in

a note in _Indian Notes and Queries_ for Sept. 1887, p. 215, states

that “the goddess Kálí is much worshipped in the Madras Presidency, and

especially so during an epidemic. During an outbreak of cholera in Madras

in 1884, the Kálí image in the Minakshí temple, near the Dvaja Stambha,

was daily propitiated by a thousand pots each of ghí (clarified butter)

milk, oil, etc.”

[85] Vijanajara, now a village in Hospet _táluk_, Bellary district,

Madras Presidency. The proper name of this village is Hampi, but

Vijanajara was the name of the dynasty and the kingdom which had its

capital there, and was the last great Hindú power in the South. Founded

by two adventurers in the middle of the 14th century, it lasted for two

centuries, till its sun went down at Tálikot in 1565 A.D. The ruins of

Hampi cover nine square miles.—Sir W. W. Hunter’s _Imperial Gazetteer of

India_.

[86] A _ghatika_ is twenty-four minutes.

[87] Apparently the arrows were attached to some kind of mechanism which

should discharge them on the opening of the pot. “There is nothing new

under the sun”! Dynamite is perhaps a discovery of our own times, but

“infernal machines,” which served the purpose of king-killers, are of

ancient date.

[88] Hindús, at their meals, squat on the ground, with leaves in place of

earthenware dishes, on which their food is served. The leaves of the palm

are very large, and each may be cut into a number of “plates.”

[89] A long cloth, which is often the only covering worn by Hindús.

[90] The women’s apartments; called by Muslims generally “the haram.”

[91] A sum of money varying, says the Pandit, in different localities in

the south of India. In old Chola grants “two pons” occurs.

[92] _i.e._ “Lion among beasts.”

[93] Setti, or Sethi, is a term applied respectfully to many of the races

engaged in trade or financial transactions; to the Zoroastrian Parsí,

the Muhammedan Bora, and to Hindús in the north and south of the Madras

Presidency, occupied as bankers, merchants and shopkeepers.

[94] A species of weasel, commonly, but incorrectly, written “mungoose,”

as though the animal was of the _goose_ kind. The mungús is very expert

in killing snakes.

[95] Visvesvara: “Lord of all,” a name of Siva, the third deity of the

Hindú triad.

[96] The want of children is doubtless felt more or less keenly by all

the races of mankind, but the Hindú is taught to believe that he cannot

attain ultimate salvation without leaving a son behind him. The Chinese

who hold to their old religion have also a great horror of dying and

leaving no male offspring to sacrifice to their manes, and to avoid

such a calamity they adopt children when they have none of their own.

Among most Asiatic peoples, indeed, a childless wife is generally but

most unjustly despised, hence the thousand and one nostrums in which

Hindú women vainly put faith in expectation of having their sterility

removed. We have four notable instances in the Bible of women bearing

famous sons after having been long sterile: Sarah, mother of Isaac, the

Hebrew patriarch; Rachel, mother of Joseph, viceroy of Egypt; the wife

of Manoah, mother of Samson, the Hercules of the Hebrews; and Elizabeth,

mother of John the Baptist.—After all, sterile wives may console

themselves with the reflection that children are not always an unalloyed

blessing!

[97] “The most useful, plentiful, and best fruit,” says Forbes, in his

_Oriental Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 30, “is the mango, which grows abundantly

all over Hindústán, even in the forests and hedge-rows, on trees equal

in size to a large English oak, but in appearance and foliage more

resembling the Spanish chestnut. This valuable fruit varies in shape,

colour, and flavour as much as apples do in Europe. The superior kinds

are extremely delicious, and in the interior resemble the large yellow

peach of Venice, heightened by the flavour of the orange and agana; and

so plentiful are mangoes in the hot season throughout most parts of India

that during my residence in Guzerat they were sold in the public markets

for one rupee the cusly, or 600 lbs. in English weight for half-a-crown.

They are a delicacy to the rich, a nutritious food for the poor, who in

the mango season require but little other sustenance.”—The skin of the

mango is described as being smooth and tough; its colour when ripe is

grass green, or yellow in many shades, with occasional tinges and streaks

of bright red; the pulp is as juicy as our wall-fruit. The kernel is of

a hot and rather offensive flavour, but the poor people collect it, and

when dried grind it into flour for bread, which is more wholesome than

agreeable. An orchard of mango-trees is a small fortune to the possessor,

and when they are in blossom it forms a luxurious resort to the lovers of

Nature.—_Mrs. Meer Hasan Ali._

[98] “Alas!” says Somadeva, “fickle is the mind of woman!” Again: “A

woman desires fresh men, as the humble bee wanders from flower to

flower.” And again: “A fickle dame is like a sunset—momentarily aglow for

everyone.”

[99] Compare with this the question asked of Jesus Christ by his

disciples (John ix, 2): “Master, who did sin, _this man_ or his parents,

that he was _born_ blind?” from which it would appear some of the Jews

in those days entertained notions akin to the Hindú (and Pythagorean)

doctrine of metempsychosis.

[100] The parrot, of course, was a human being re-born in that form, in

accordance with the doctrine of metempsychosis, which is a fundamental

article of the Hindú religion.

[101] It is curious to find goldsmiths and jewellers invariably

represented in Hindú stories as arrant rogues. In the fine old Indian

drama entitled _Mrichchakati_, or the Toy-Cart, it is said: “There is no

lotus that has not a stalk, no trader that is not a cheat, no goldsmith

that is not a thief.”

[102] Tope, or stupa, a sepulchral memorial monument; a mound-like

building erected for the preservation of relics. They are found in

Afghanistán, Tibet, Nepál, and Western Asia; also in various parts of

Southern India. On the demise of Gautama [the founder of Buddhism],

B.C. 543, his body was consumed, divided into eight portions, and

distributed amongst applicants, who erected topes over them. The word

_tope_ is the same as _st’hupo_ in Pali—a mound or tumulus; st’hupo, or

tope, is therefore a name common to each kind of tumulus, whether it be

the solid temple dedicated to the Supreme Being or the massive mound

erected over the relics of Buddha, or those of one of his more eminent

followers.—Balfour’s _Cyclopædia of India_.

[103] Vedas: “divine knowledge.” The Vedas are the holy books which are

the foundations of the Hindú religion. They consist of hymns written in

the old form of Sanskrit, and, according to the most generally received

opinion, were composed between 1500 and 1000 B.C. Some scholars have

thought the oldest of the hymns may be carried back a thousand years

farther. The four Vedas are: the Rig-Veda, the Yajur-Veda, the Sama-Veda,

and the Atharva-Veda, the last being of comparatively modern date.—See

Dowson’s _Classical Dictionary of Hindú Mythology_.

[104] The six Sastras comprise philosophical systems of the Hindús: the

term Sastra signifies a treatise or rule.

[105] “It is a very common practice,” remarks the Pandit, “to dupe

ordinary people in this manner in Hindú temples. Some impostor will

proclaim to the crowd that the god, or goddess, is then upon him, and

utter whatever comes uppermost in his mind. He occasionally contrives to

accomplish his private ends by such revelations. The ignorant are greatly

misled by those impostors, and learned Hindús condemn the practice as

gross superstition.”

[106] “Fiat experimentum in corpore vili.”

[107] Full grown and ripe bambú bears a kind of corn which when collected

and husked resembles wheat. Hunters cook a most delicious food of bambú

grain and honey.

[108] Not only are serpents popularly believed by Asiatics to be

guardians of hidden treasures, but they are also said to have most

valuable gems in their heads, which they sometimes present to persons who

have rendered them good service. This notion was once prevalent in Europe

regarding toads; and readers of Shakspeare will remember his comparison

of the uses of adversity to the “toad, ugly and venomous, which yet

wears a precious jewel in its head.” A curious serpent legend is current

in Kandahár regarding ’Alí Mardán Khán, when governor of that city: A

cowherd of Kandahár lost two or three of his cattle in a certain pasture

and came to the governor to complain about it. ’Alí Mardán Khán ordered

him to fill some cowhides with lime, leaving a hole in each, and to place

them in the meadow. It appeared that a serpent came daily and carried off

the cattle, and on this occasion took away one of the hides, but leaving

a track of lime behind him was traced to his lair. The lime in the hide

disagreed with him and so he died. Beside his carcase was found a great

heap of treasures and the _philosopher’s stone_, which immensely enriched

’Alí Mardán Khán.

[109] See note 2, p. 122.

[110] Ahmed: “Praiseworthy”; one of the appellations of Muhammed.

[111] “Had it not been for thee, verily the heavens had not been

created.”—_Kurán._

[112] Burák was the name of the animal that carried Muhammed on his

famous (and fabulous) Night Journey through the Seven Heavens; for an

account of which see Muir’s _Life of Mahomet_, ii, 219-222; Lane’s

_Modern Egyptians_; and D’Herbelot’s _Bibliothèque Orientale_, art.

_Borak_.—According to the _Sikandar Náma_ (Alexander-Book) of Nizamí,

Burák was silken as to body, silvern as to hoof, and to such a degree

swift moving that nothing could equal him.—Canto iv, 12, p. 32 of

Clarke’s translation.

[113] Alí was the son-in-law of Muhammed, having married Fatima, the

beloved daughter of the Prophet. Of the two great sects of Muslims the

_shi’ahs_ consider Alí and his immediate descendants (eleven in number)

as “the true and only imáms” in succession of Muhammed, while the _súnís_

regard the khalífs—’Umar, Abú Bakr, etc.—as the lawful representatives of

the Prophet. The Persians and the Indian Muslims are (like our present

author) _shi’ahs_; the Turks and Arabs are _súnís_.

[114] “Ornament of kings.”

[115] The Hercules of the Persians, and the principal hero of the _Sháh

Náma_ (Book of Kings), Firdausí’s great epic.

[116] “Crown of kings.”

[117] It is still a common practice in Persia and India when a child

is born—especially a son—for an astrologer to be employed to “cast his

horoscope” and thereby foretell the child’s career in life. “In 1670 the

passion for horoscopes and expounding the stars prevailed in France among

persons of the first rank. The new-born child was usually presented naked

to the astrologer, who read the first lineaments in its forehead and the

transverse lines in its hands, and thence wrote down its future destiny.

Catherine de Medicis brought Henry IV, then a child, to old Nostradamus,

whom antiquaries esteem more for his Chronicle of Provence than for his

vaticinating powers. The sight of the reverend seer, with a beard which

‘streamed like a meteor in the air,’ terrified the future hero, who

dreaded a whipping from so grave a personage. Will it be credited that,

one of these magicians having assured Charles IX that he should live as

many days as he should turn about on his heel in an hour, standing on

one leg, his majesty every morning performed that solemn exercise for an

hour, the principal officers of the court, the judges, the chancellors,

and the generals likewise, in compliment standing on one leg and turning

round!”—_Demonologia_, by J. S. F.

[118] Abú-Síná, or Abú ’Alí Síná, or Ibn-Síná, called generally in Europe

Avicenna, was a famous physician and philosopher at the court of Baghdád.

Born, at Bukhárá, A.H. 373 (A.D. 983), died, at Hamadán, A.H. 427 (A.D.

1035). He wrote nearly one hundred books on medicine, most of which are

now lost. He was also a poet, and some of his verses are still extant.

[119] The patriarch’s grief for the loss of his favourite son Joseph

is proverbial among Muslims; but our author has done the “Man of Uz” a

great injustice when he likens him to the blind king, as “waiting with

impatient anxiety”!

[120] A comely youth is always said by Muslim writers to resemble Joseph,

the son of Jacob the Hebrew patriarch, who is considered as the type of

manly beauty.

[121] Firdaus: Paradise. Here it is probably used as the name of an

imaginary city; at all events I cannot find that there is any town of the

name in Persia or India.

[122] Dilbar: “heart-stealer”; and surnamed Lakhí (as will be seen

presently) because she required to be paid a _lakh_ (100,000) of rupís by

every man who sought her society. The rupí (rupee) is nominally valued at

two shillings, but at present it is at considerable discount, being only

worth from 1s. 6d. to 1s. 8d. of English currency.

[123] The fascination of the moth for the flame of the candle is a

favourite simile with Asiatic writers for the love-struck youth and the

beauty whose charms have ensnared him. Sa’dí, in his _Bustán_, has a fine

mystical poem on this subject.

[124] See note on pp. 187-8.

[125] Persian writers are extremely fond of far-fetched conceits. In

describing sunrise they almost invariably borrow metaphors from the

incidents last related. We have had several examples of this peculiarity

in the romance of Nassar, as (pp. 6, 7) in the case of the robbery of

the royal treasury by one of the eunuchs of the haram, where the author

begins his account of next day’s events thus: “When the _eunuch_ of

_night_ had retired and the _prince_ of _morn_ established himself in

the _palace_ of the horizon,” and so forth. And here we have the game of

backgammon between the hero and Dilbar utilised for a description of the

natural phenomenon of sunset.

[126] “Sháh-záda:” _lit._ “king-born,” or son of the king; the usual term

applied to royal princes in Persia.

[127] A crore is 100 lakhs, or ten millions, according to the Hindú

system of numeration; but in Persia it is only 5 lakhs, or 500,000. The

artful Dilbar must have had an enormous amount of wealth, if she lost to

our hero a hundred crores of rupís, which even according to the Persian

computation would be equal to five millions of pounds, English money,

estimating the rupí at two shillings. After this she’d be fully justified

in describing herself, as honest Dogberry does with some pride, as “one

who has had _losses_ too!”

[128] Dívs (or _deevs_) are similar to the Jinn (or Genii) of Arabian

mythology. Some are good demons, being faithful Muslims, but those who

are unbelievers are for the most part malignant and delight in working

evil on mankind.

[129] A quotation from the _Gulistán_, or Rose Garden, of the celebrated

Persian poet and philosopher Sa’dí, ch. iii.—Sa’dí was born, at Shíráz,

towards the close of the 12th century, and died, in his native city,

about 1291 A.D., having lived upwards of a hundred years.

[130] According to the Kurán, because Abraham would not worship idols,

Nimrod cast him into a blazing furnace, which was turned into a

rose-garden—evidently a distorted version of the story of Nebuchadnezzar

and the three devout Hebrew youths, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego.

[131] Standing on one leg in presence of a superior is a mark of profound

respect in India.

[132] This fable is omitted by Garcin de Tassy.

[133] It is the common belief in the East that pearls are formed in the

oyster out of drops of rain falling into it when the shells are open.

This notion is the subject of a mystical poem in Sa’dí’s _Bustán_, or

Garden of Odours, Book iv, which has been thus translated:

“A drop of rain trickled from a cloud into the ocean; when it beheld the

breadth of its waters it was utterly confounded.

‘What a place this sea is, and what am I? If it is existent, verily I am

non-existent.’

Whilst it was thus regarding itself with the eye of contempt, an oyster

received it into its bosom.

Fortune preferred it to a place of honour; for it became a renowned royal

pearl.

Because it was humble, it found exaltation;—it knocked at the door of

nonentity, that it might arise into being.”—Robinson’s _Persian Poetry

for English Readers_, p. 328.

[134] Here our author makes the courtesan Dilbar discourse most

eloquently and in a highly moral strain. It has always been much easier

to preach than to practise, I ween!

[135] Good Muslims never commence any undertaking of importance or danger

without first reciting the formula—which is also invariably placed at the

beginning of all their writings—“In the Name of God, the Merciful, the

Compassionate!” (_Bismillahi er-rahmani er-rahimi_).

[136] “That a salamander is able to live in flames,” says Sir Thomas

Browne, “to endure and put out fire, is an assertion not only of great

antiquity but confirmed by frequent and not contemptible authority.…

All which notwithstanding, there is on the negative authority and

experience.… The ground of this opinion might be some sensible resistance

of fire observed in the salamander; which being, as Galen determineth,

cold in the fourth and moist in the third degree, and having also a mucus

humidity above and under the skin, by virtue thereof it may a while

endure flame, which being consumed it can resist no more.”—_Enquiries

into Vulgar and Common Errors_, ch. xiv.

[137] See the note on pp. 108-9.

[138] To swear by Solomon, especially by Solomon’s signet-ring, is the

most binding oath which the jinn and the fairies can take, since its

breach would entail a dreadful punishment.

[139] “Hammála” may mean a woman who carries: Garcin de Tassy calls her

“porteuse.”

[140] “Praiseworthy”: “Belauded.”

[141] Badakshán is a mountainous tract of country in Afghán Túrkestán,

famous for mines yielding the finest rubies, lapis-lazuli, etc.

[142] The romance writers of mediæval Europe, after the first Crusade,

drew largely from Oriental fictions. Thus, for example, in _The Boke

of Duke Huon of Burdeux_, among the many wonders which the hero sees

in his journey to the court of the Soudan of Babylon is an underground

river, the bed of which was composed of the most precious stones, which

possessed a variety of curative properties.

[143] “The heavenly orbs, according to the principles of philosophy,

possess a reasonable mind.”—_Akhlák-i Jalálí._ “This,” remarks W.F.

Thomson, the translator, “is inferred from continuity of motion and

influence without perceptible external cause, and it seems men’s earliest

conclusion and the origin of star-worship. Admitting Plato’s notion

that souls were introduced, or perhaps kindled, by the heavenly bodies,

nothing could be more reasonable than to attempt, by observation and

induction, to ascertain the influence contributed by each. The premises

only are to be attacked; and for these the chiefs of classical as well as

Oriental literature are responsible.”

[144] The cypress, which is in Europe associated with sombre ideas, is by

Asiatics commonly employed as a comparison for the graceful stature of a

pretty girl.

[145] Muslims are perfectly familiar with the principal narratives in the

Bible, from which the Kurán is largely composed.

[146] Asiatic ladies tinge the inner edges of their eyelids with

lamp-black in order to increase the lustre of the eyes; it is believed,

moreover, to strengthen the sight.

[147] See note 1, p. 250.

[148] This incident is common to folk-tales almost everywhere: sometimes

it is a bird who gives the hero one of his feathers, which serves the

same purpose.

[149] This was a very unusual condescension on the part of the monarch,

even though in honour of his own sons. The common practice (in Persia)

is for the sháh to send a deputation the distance of two days’ journey

to meet and welcome any distinguished visitors. The deputation is called

_istikbál_, and those sent, _písh váz_, openers of the way. A day’s

journey is twenty miles.

[150] Kettle-drum.

[151] “Happy.”

[152] Similar question and answer occur in the story of “The Sultan

of Yaman and his Three Sons,” one of the tales translated by Jonathan

Scott from the Wortley-Montague MS. text of the _Alf Layla wa Layla_, or

Thousand and One Nights, which are comprised in the sixth vol. of his

edition of the _Arabian Nights Entertainments_, p. 81.

[153] According to Muslim ideas, the shooting stars are stones flung

at demons who approach the portals of heaven to listen to the divine

communications; and Satan is “stoned” every year by the pilgrims at

Makka—for which see Burton’s _Pilgrimage to Meccah and Medinah_.

[154] Chief of police.

[155] See note on p. 46.

[156] Núshírván, surnamed _’Adil_, or the Just (the Chosroes of the

Greeks), was of the Sassanian dynasty of ancient Persian kings, and died,

after a very prosperous reign of 48 years, A.D. 579. Muhammed was wont

to boast of his good fortune in having been born during the reign of so

wise and just a prince. His dying injunctions to his son and successor,

Hormuz, are thus recorded by Sa’dí (_Bustán_, B. i): “Be thou in heart

the guardian of the poor. Be not in bondage to thine own ease. No one

will live in comfort in thy kingdom if thou desirest only thine own

comfort and sayest, ‘It is enough.’ He will receive no praise from the

wise who passeth his nights in sleep whilst the wolf is amidst his flock.

Keep watch over the necessitous poor; for the peasant it is from which

the king deriveth his throne. The king is the tree, the peasant the root:

the tree, O my son, deriveth its strength from the root.”

[157] Garcin de Tassy omits this curious story, and another which

immediately follows in the original text, related by the vazír, of the

Darvesh and the Nightingale, which I also omit here, as a much better

version will be found among the PERSIAN STORIES which follow the present

romance.

[158] “Beautiful kingdom.”

[159] In other words: “Succeed in this affair without compromising my

dignity; according to the proverb, ‘Take care while shunning one evil of

falling into another.’”—See Roebuck’s _Persian and Hindústaní Proverbs_,

part ii, p. 118.

[160] The canopy of a howdah, or chair for riding on an elephant, called

_hauda-amári_—canopied howdah.

[161] See note on page 271.

[162] This recalls an incident in the Indian story of the virtuous

Devasmitá, who entraps four suitors, during her husband’s absence on

a trading journey, who visit her in succession, and, while they are

insensible from the effects of a narcotic mixed with their wine, causes

each to be branded on the forehead with a hot iron. The suitors return

to their own country, where the lady’s husband is residing for a time,

and Devasmitá soon after sets out thither, disguised as a man, where

she claims all four as her slaves in presence of the king, causing

them to remove their head-gear and expose the brands; and she “lets

them off” on payment of a large sum of money.—(Tawney’s translation of

the _Kathá Sarit Ságara_: Ocean of the Streams of Story, vol. i, pp.

85-92.)—Henceforward the four rascally brothers of Táj ul-Mulúk are, as

the Icelandic story-tellers say, “out of this tale.”

[163] “Jasmine-face.”

[164] Shírín was the beautiful wife of Khusrau Parvíz, king of Persia,

and Farhád, a famous sculptor, was madly enamoured of her. All the

sculptures on the mountain of Bistán are ascribed to Farhád’s chisel.

According to the popular tradition, King Parvíz promised that if he cut

through the rock and brought a stream that flowed on the other side of

the hill into the valley the lovely Shírín should be his reward. He was

on the point of completing his Herculean labour when Khusrau Parvíz,

fearing to lose Shírín, sent an old woman to inform him that she was

dead. Farhád was then at the highest parts of the rocks, and on hearing

this false report in despair threw himself down headlong, and was dashed

to pieces.—The story of Farhád and Shírín is the subject of several

beautiful (often, if not always, mystical) Persian and Turkish poems.

[165] G. de Tassy remarks that “a declaration of love on the part of

a woman, and especially one so passionate, is not according to our

manners, but it is so to those of the East; and the numerous Asiatic

stories which have been translated into European languages have rendered

it quite familiar to us.”—A very remarkable example is furnished in the

immortal tale of Nala and Damayanti (_Mahábhárata_, section lvi of the

“Vana Parva”), where the virtuous and beautiful daughter of Vidharba thus

addresses Nala: “O King, love me with proper regard, and command me what

I shall do for thee. Myself and what of wealth is mine are thine. Grant

me, O exalted one, thy love in full trust. O giver of the proper honour,

if thou forsake me who adore thee, for thy sake will I resort to poison,

or fire, or water, or the rope!” Bakáwalí “spared her maiden blushes” (if

she _could_ blush) by expressing her love for our hero in writing; but

Damayanti—all truth and innocence—made her avowal to the god-like king

of the Nishadhas in words from her own sweet mouth: and who would not be

enraptured to hear such a soft confession made to him by such a peerless

Queen of Beauty?

[166] Not the _images_ in Chinese temples, which are described by

travellers as very hideous, but the beautiful women of China. Persian

poets often term pretty girls _idols_, and themselves _idolators_, for

worshipping them.

[167] _Surma_ is the black ore of antimony, or ter-sulphide. The Muslim

men apply antimony to their eyelids, but their women use _kohl_, or

lamp-black, for this purpose. It is a popular belief among Indian

Muslims that the finest kind of _surma_ comes from Arabia—from the hills

of Sinai or Tur, etc. They have a legend that when Moses was on Mount

Sinai he asked that the glory of God should be shown to him. He was

answered that his mortal sight could not bear the glory; but through

a chink of the rock a ray of light was allowed to fall on him, and

the rock on which the ray fell was melted into antimony. (Balfour’s

_Cyclopædia of India_.)—There is a curious legend current in the Panjáb

regarding the origin of the antimony which is found on the summit of

Mount Karanglí, near Pind Dádan Khán, in the Jhelan district. A fakír

(religious mendicant) once came from Kashmír and asked the name of the

mountain, and was told that it was called Karanglí. He at once exclaimed:

“_Karanglí sone ranglí!_” that is, Karanglí the gold-coloured; whereupon

the mountain became all gold. This frightened the good people of the

neighbourhood, who dreaded that the place should become a general

battle-field for the sake of the gold. So the fakír said: “_Karanglí

surme ranglí!_” that is, Karanglí the antimony-coloured, upon which the

mountain became all antimony. This antimony is now to be found on the

top of it, but as it is surrounded by precipices the antimony cannot be

reached, and so the people have to wait until pieces of it are washed

down by the rains. When procured it is most valuable, and will, if used

for eight days, restore to sight all those who have become blind through

sickness or accident. It cannot, however, cure those who are born blind.

[168] “Beautiful Lady”—“Lady Beautiful.”

[169] “Happy King”—“King Prosperous.”

[170] See note 1, page 259.

[171] In a Buddhist work entitled _Wæsakára-sataka_ (a hundred stanzas)

is the following: “The evil man is to be avoided, though he be arrayed

in the robe of all the sciences, as we flee from the serpent, though

it be adorned with the _kantha_ jewel.” The natives of Ceylon, says

Spence Hardy, believe that this gem is to be found in the throat of the

_nayá_. “It emits a light more brilliant than the purest diamond; and

when the serpent wishes to discover anything in the dark it disgorges

the substance, swallowing it again when its work is done. It is thought

possible to obtain the jewel by throwing dust upon it when out of the

serpent’s mouth; but if the reptile should be killed to obtain it,

misfortune would certainly follow.”—_Eastern Monachism_, p. 316. (See

also note, _ante_, p. 232.)

[172] A kind of hill-starling.

[173] Our hero understood bird-language, and the author has probably

omitted to mention that he acquired that knowledge by possessing the

snake-stone. In the folk-tales of all countries we find that great

benefits accrue to a forlorn hero by his overhearing the conversation

of birds or beasts, and of demons in Indian stories. The reader will

find much to interest him on this subject in an able paper on the

Language of Animals by Mr. J. G. Frazer in the first vol. of the

_Archæological Review_, 1888; and I may be permitted to refer him also to

my Introduction to John Lane’s _Continuation of Chaucer’s Squire’s Tale_,

published for the Chaucer Society.

[174] The transformed prince having given birth to a child was

ceremonially unclean for the period of forty days.—See the note on pp.

140, 141.

[175] Here our author exhorts his readers.

[176] Káf is a range of mountains which, like a vast ring, enclose the

Circumambient Ocean (_Bahru-’l-Muhít_) that surrounds the whole earth,

which, according to the Muhammedan cosmography, is flat, not round.

These mountains are composed of green chrysolite, the reflection of

which causes the greenish (or blueish) tint of the sky. (See Mr. E. J.

W. Gibb’s _Ottoman Poems_, note 6.)—“From Káf to Káf”: from end to end

of the earth.—Bistán is the famous mountain on which Farhád chiselled

figures.

[177] “Soul-expander”—“Vivifier.”

[178] “Victorious King.”

[179] Here we have a fairy island called “Paradise,” as we have before

had a city of the same name, where the artful Dilbar resided—p. 244.

[180] A proud and wicked king of Yaman, called Shaddad, according to the

Muhammedan legend, declared blasphemously: “There is no necessity for

Paradise for me: I myself will make a Paradise of which no man can have

beheld the like.” He sent his officers to find out a suitable spot for a

garden, and they discovered such a place on the borders of Syria, where

Shaddad, at an immense cost, caused a palace to be erected of gold and

silver bricks in alternate courses, and adorned with the most precious

stones. In the garden were placed trees of gold and silver, the fruit of

which was amethysts, rubies, and other gems (see also _ante_, p. 166,

note on Treasure-trees); and the ground was strewed with musk, ambergris,

and saffron. They called this place the Rose Garden of Iram. When Shaddad

was about to enter it, accompanied by a vast multitude of troops and

attendants, he was met by the Angel of Death, who forthwith seized his

impure soul, and then the lightnings of heaven destroyed all living

creatures that were there, and the Rose Garden of Iram became hidden from

the sight of men.—In the present romance the abode of the parents of

Bakáwalí is called the Garden of Iram, to indicate its magnificence.

[181] One of the numerous legends told by Muslims regarding Solomon

reappears in the Turkish story-book entitled _Qirq vezír taríkhí_, where

we read that the sage Hebrew king despatched the símurgh—a fabulous bird,

similar to the _rukh_ (or _roc_) of Arabian fictions—to bring the sparrow

to his court. But the sparrow, being then with his mate, refused to obey

the prophet, or his messenger, and vaunted his prowess and strength,

declaring that he was able to pull down Solomon’s palace. When the

símurgh reported this to Solomon he replied: “There is no harm in one

thus bragging in his own house, and before his wife.”—See Gibb’s _Forty

Vezírs_, p. 97 ff.

[182] The _mán_ has varied at different periods and in different parts of

Persia and India; but our author means us to understand that the stone

wielded by the demon was very ponderous—three or four hundred pounds’

weight at the least, which would doubtless be to _him_ as a mere “pebble

out of the brook”!

[183] “Adorner of Beauty”; the wife of Muzaffar Sháh.

[184] Yet we are told that he is “a _little_ lower than the angels”; and

if he was “created perfect,” he has “sought out many inventions”! It is

amusing how Muslim writers exaggerate the “dignity” of man: generally he

is the most contemptible creature on the face of the earth.

[185] Cf. Shakspeare: “tongues in trees,” etc. And the Persian poet

Sa’dí: “The foliage of a newly-clothed tree, to the eye of a discerning

man, displays a volume of the wondrous works of the Creator.”

[186] Joseph, the son of Jacob the Hebrew patriarch.—A most dutiful

little speech this: O the hypocritical young creature!

[187] Although Muhammed strictly prohibited the drinking of wine,

even more potent liquors are indulged in by many Muslims, especially

those of the _shi’ah_ persuasion. The more strict _súnís_ create for

themselves a “paradise of fools” with narcotics, such as _bang_ and other

preparations of which opium is the principal ingredient, satisfying

their “consciences” with the quibble that the holy Prophet does not

forbid its use in express terms—an omission which is probably due to his

ignorance of such deleterious drugs. The old pagan Arabs were inordinate

wine-bibbers, as we learn from their poetry, and sanguinary fights were a

frequent result between rival factions when they assembled from different

districts at Makka. Muhammed at first attempted, by a “revelation” in the

Kurán, to restrain this propensity within reasonable bounds, and finding

this of no effect prohibited wine altogether. It seems to have been a

very ancient custom among Asiatics to drink wine in the early morning,

and in the _Mu’allaka_ poems, which were suspended in the Temple at

Makka before the advent of Muhammed, the “morning draught” is frequently

mentioned, with evident _gusto_. The prophet Isaiah exclaims: “Woe unto

those that rise up early in the morning, that they may follow strong

drink; that continue till night, till wine inflame them!”—ch. v, 11.

[188] See the note on p. 8.

[189] _Nau Ratn_: “the Nine Gems,” an ornament worn on the arm, which

indicates the only gems that are esteemed as precious. They are: the

diamond, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz, pearl, coral, hyacinth,

carbuncle. The inferior gems, such as agate, bloodstone, etc., are mostly

used for signet-rings.—There is a collection of tales, in the Urdú,

entitled _Nauratan_, compiled by Mahjúr, and published at Lucknow in the

year 1811. It consists of nine stories (hence the title, “Nine Jewels”),

which all turn on the deceits (_charítr_) and tricks of women and are

mostly taken from the Book of Sindibád.

[190] Frequent allusion is made in the _Arabian Nights_ and in Eastern

amatory poetry to this singular kind of caress.

[191] The _henna_ of the Persians—see note on page 11. Mehndí is the

_Lawsonia alba_ of botanists, and the water distilled from its flowers is

used as a perfume.

[192] Indra, in the Hindú mythology, is the god of thunder—a

personification of the sky. His paradise is Swerga, the capital of which

is Armaràvati, or Amarnagar in Urdú.

[193] He could not, therefore, have been one of the “immortals,” but of a

race like the jinn or the parís, who are subject to death, though their

existence is prolonged greatly beyond that of mere human beings.

[194] This is quite after the manner of Asiatic despots—and the deity

Indra is here nothing better—and at once recalls a similar incident,

which cost a good man his head: when the daughter of Herodias danced

before King Herod, he was so charmed with that young light-skirt’s

performance that he said to her: “Ask whatsoever thou wilt, and I will

give it thee” (Mark vi, 22).

[195] This transformation will remind readers of the tale of the young

King of the Ebony Isles in the _Arabian Nights_.—The deities of the Hindú

mythology are frequently represented as condemning inferior celestials

who have offended them to be re-born on the earth, in the form of a human

being, or as some beast, bird, or reptile, so to remain for a certain

period. But this punishment of Bakáwalí is more in accordance with Muslim

ideas.

[196] “Mark of Beauty.”

[197] Like the one-eyed young men in the Arabian tale of the Second

Kalander, or Royal Mendicant—only _they_ suffered for their curiosity

while these (as we shall just see) were the victims of a hard-hearted

beauty.

[198] “Picture-like.”

[199] This recalls Milton’s well-worn lines in his description of “our

common mother” Eve:

“Grace was in every step, heaven in her eye,

In every gesture dignity and love.”

The “witchery,” or “magic,” of a pretty girl’s eyes is quite as common

a subject of complaint, or admiration, in Western as in Eastern amatory

poetry: by Muslims it is called “Babylonian magic,” because the Chaldeans

were past masters in magical arts.

[200] According to the Hindús, there are ten stages of love: (1) Love of

the eyes; (2) attachment of the mind; (3) the production of desire; (4)

sleeplessness; (5) emaciation; (6) indifference to objects of sense; (7)

loss of shame; (8) distraction; (9) fainting; (10) death!

[201] Betel: the areca or Penang nut palm grown in many parts of the

East Indies. Its kernel is used as a masticatory in India and elsewhere.

The nut is carried in pouches and presented to guests in the houses of

the rich on silver trays wrapped in gold and silver leaf, and in this

form becomes an essential part in all ceremonial visits. Indeed, among

some of the inhabitants of the Eastern Archipelago, to refuse the betel

when offered would give unpardonable offence. It is believed to sweeten

the breath, strengthen the stomach, and preserve the teeth; and when

chewed with betel leaf (the Piper betel, _Linn._) it gives the saliva

a red colour, which it imparts also to the lips and gums (_Balfour_).

The presentation of betel to visitors is a signal that the audience or

interview is ended.

[202] “Blameless”: “spotless.”

[203] “Bright.”

[204] See page 299.

[205] The story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife, Zulaykhá (which was her

name, according to Muslim legends), is a favourite subject of several

Persian poems. She is said to have visited the young Hebrew slave in

prison, but he would not gain his liberty at the cost of his chastity.

Potiphar is represented to have been a eunuch. In the end Zulaykhá is

united to her beloved Joseph.

[206] _’itr-i gul_—essence of roses. Our term “otto” is a corruption

of _’itr_ or _’attár_, this latter word also signifies a perfumer, or

druggist.—Most women, I suppose, are fond of perfumes, but Eastern ladies

are passionately so, and the description of Chitrawat as being so highly

“scented” that the finest odours were diffused around her, is fully

borne out by travellers and Europeans who have resided in Egypt, Turkey,

Persia, etc. The sole nourishment of parís, or fairies, it is said,

consists of perfumes—a pretty idea, if nothing more.

[207] Because these were signs that he was newly married.

[208] A manly, straightforward, even touching statement in defence of his

conduct in peculiar circumstances, and such as is rarely met with in an

Eastern tale. Our author is here at his best, and this is saying not a

little.

[209] “The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love!”

[210] The doctrine of metempsychosis has no place in the creed of

Islám and it is quite phenomenal to find such an incident as this

in a Muhammedan work. Many Persian and Arabian fictions, like the

present romance, are of Indian extraction, but the Hindú characters of

the originals are always—with only this exception, as well as I can

recollect—changed to good Muslims.

[211] In India early marriages of girls are the almost invariable rule;

indeed they are often married, or betrothed, in infancy. A Bráhman girl

who grows up without being married loses her caste. The duty of choosing

a husband belongs in the first place to her father, and if he be dead,

then to her paternal grandfather if he be alive, then to her brother,

cousin, and lastly to her mother. If she have reached the age of eight

years without having been provided with a husband, she may choose for

herself.

[212] Oriental hyperbole, of which we have a very striking example in the

last verse of the apostle John’s gospel.

[213] Bahrám is the Persian name of the planet Mars; and of all who have

ever borne the name, the Persian king Bahrám-i Ghúr (so called from his

passion for hunting the wild ass) is the most renowned in song or story.

[214] In the East no person ever visits his superior without carrying in

his hand a present of some kind, called the _nazar_ in Persian.—See the

First Book of Samuel, ix, 7.

[215] To wit, _Mulk-i Nighárín_, the country appropriated by Táj

ul-Mulúk, where he caused his grand palace to be erected by the

fairies.—See _ante_, p. 281.

[216] A much greater “crush” than even that in Ceylon!—see preceding page.

[217] See _ante_, notes on pp. 232 and 297.

[218] “Violet.”

[219] “To account for the allegorical passion entertained by the

nightingale for the rose, which is the subject of so much beautiful

imagery in Persian poetry, we must consider,” says Sir William Ouseley,

“that the plaintive voice of that sweet bird is first heard at the

same season of the year in which the rose begins to blow. By a natural

association of ideas they are therefore connected as the constant and

inseparable attendants of the spring. It is probable, too, that the

nightingale’s favourite retreat may be the rose-garden, and the leaves

of that flower occasionally its food; but it is certain that he is

delighted with its odour and sometimes indulges the fragrant luxury (if I

may be allowed the expression) to such excess as to fall from the branch

intoxicated and helpless to the ground.”—_Persian Miscellanies_, p. 91.

[220] The transformation of a man into a bird occurs very often in

Asiatic fictions: there are numerous instances in the _Kathá Sarit

Ságara_ and other Indian collections. This is commonly done by fastening

a string round the victim’s neck, or sticking a pin in his head, and

uttering certain magical words; and by removing the string or the pin the

man is at once restored to his natural form.