? In the Preface to his translation and text of the Bakhtyar Nama, Sir William Ouseley states, that “as this work is chiefly designed for the use of those who begin to study the Persian language,” he selected for translation, from among three manuscripts in his own possession and five or six others in the collections of several friends, “that which seemed written in the most pure and simple style; for several copies, in passing through the hands of ignorant or conceited transcribers, have suffered a considerable depravation of the original text, and one, in particular, is so disguised by the alterations and augmented by the additions of some Indian Munshi, that it appears almost a different work. These additions, however, are only turgid amplifications and florid exuberancies, according to the modern corrupt style of Hindustan, which distinguishes the compositions of that country from the chaste and classical productions of Iran.” Regarding his own translation, he says that, while it will be found sufficiently literal, he has “not retained those idioms which would not only be uncouth, but perhaps unintelligible, in English: some repetitions I have taken the liberty of omitting; and as most of the stories begin and end nearly in the same manner, I have on such occasions compressed into a few lines the subject of a page.” But since the translation was mainly designed to aid learners of Persian, it seems strange that he should have deemed it advisable to take any “liberties” such as he mentions; and an examination of the text appended to his translation shows that he has occasionally done something more than omit mere “repetitions”: in several instances he has omitted whole passages, of which many are requisite to the proper connection of the incidents related in the stories; and this, too, in dealing with a text which is itself evidently abridged from “the original”—if indeed an original Persian text now exists.

The more important deficiencies of Sir William Ouseley’s translation—arising, as has been already explained, from his imperfect text as well as from his own omissions—which will be found included in the following Notes, have been supplied by my obliging friend Mr William Platt, the veteran scholar, who has taken the trouble of comparing the translation with the carefully edited lithographed text of the Bakhtyar Nama, published, at Paris, in 1839; and has, besides these notes of omissions, &c., kindly furnished me with other valuable materials, of which I have gladly availed myself, with the view of rendering this curious and in many respects unique work more complete and interesting to general English readers.

It is customary for Muslim authors to place at the beginning of all their compositions the Arabic invocation—

which Sale renders: “In the name of the most merciful God!” but which is more correctly translated: “In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!” The `Ulama, or professors of religion and law, interpret “the merciful” to signify “merciful in small things,” and “the compassionate,” as “merciful in great things.” This invocation, which is placed at the head of each chapter of the Kur’an, except the ninth, is not only also prefixed to every Muhammadan book or writing, but is pronounced by Muslims on their undertaking every lawful act. It is said that Muhammad borrowed it from a similar practice of the Magians and Rabbins. Following the invocation are usually praise and blessings on the Prophet, his Family, and his Companions. In Sir William Ouseley’s printed text only the customary invocation appears, which he does not give in his English version. The following is a translation of the introduction as given in the lithographed text:

“In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!

Thanksgiving and praise without end, and salutation and eulogium without stint, to the Supreme Benefactor, who is above all commendation—the Holy-One, beyond our imagination! May He be ever exalted on high, the well-furnished table of whose generosity is spread over the surface of the earth, and on the table of whose bounty every ant finds its food in safety! And salutation and praise to all the prophets, and, above all, to our Prophet, who is the Apostle, and the Director of the Path [of God], and the Prince of Creation, and the purest of created beings—Muhammad, the Elect! May God be propitious and vouchsafe salvation to him, his Family, and Companions, one and all!—After this introduction [be it known], this work and composition is divided into ten chapters [gates], and each chapter affords to the intelligent moral examples, and to the wise recognised forewarnings.”

Page 3. “The country of Sistan,” or Sijistan (the ancient Drangiana), lies to the east of Farsistan, or Persia proper. The Governor is entitled Shah-i-nimruz (Sa`di’s Gulistan, iii, 27). The famous Rustam, the Hercules of Persia, held this country as a fief under the Kings of Persia (see Ranking’s Wars and Sports of the Mongols, p. 93).

Page 3. Azad-bakht: “Free-Fortune”—“Fortunate.”

Page 3. Sipah-salar, here employed as a proper name, signifies a general, a commander of an army, especially a chief of cavalry: from asp, a horse, and salar, a leader. Salar-i-jung, a leader in war, is one of the titles given by Eastern princes to their nobles.

Page 3. “The rose of the garden and the moon of the heavenly spheres were confounded at the superior lustre of her cheeks.”—The comparison of a beautiful woman’s face to the moon, however absurd it may appear to some readers, is a very favourite one with Orientals, from Solomon downwards; it is, moreover, employed by several of our own admired English poets, as Spenser, Shakspeare, and Pope. In the Notes to my Arabian Poetry for English Readers many parallel passages on this similitude are cited from Eastern and Western poets.

Page 4. “A litter was provided.”—Several kinds of litters are used in Persia and India. Garcin de Tassy, in a note to his French translation of the Persian romance of Kamarupa (chap. xxiii), quotes the following interesting account of the palanquins and carriages of India, from the Araish-i-Mahfil:

“It is known that the gari is an invention of the people of India. They who use them are sheltered from heat, cold, wind, or rain. The Bayadires [or dancing-girls], who employ these carriages drawn by oxen, put silver ornaments on their horns, hang small bells on the axle-tree, and place negroes on the pole. In this sumptuous carriage they frequent fairs, the shrines visited by pilgrims, and public gardens. The astonished lookers-on are inclined to regard them as strolling fairies, travelling on thrones to the sound of cymbals;... but the carriages of discreet females, named rath, are covered with awnings, so closely fastened that the opening of the breadth of a hair cannot be seen. Unfortunately the wheeled carriages jolt, yet in other respects are comfortable. Three or four men seated can travel without fatigue, chatting the meanwhile, and perform the journey, enjoying the advantage of repose. Some of the gari have curtains, some are without. The small and light are called manjhali, the very light and diminutive, gaini, and the oxen drawing them are of a peculiarly small breed, and are distinguished by the name of gaina. These small carriages are preferable to the rath, which has four wheels. In fact, they jolt but little, and are of sufficient importance to carry the Amir. There are some so well constructed, and adorned with such beautiful paintings, that they throw into a frenzy those who behold them; and the blinds are to such a degree pleasing and elegant that, if the Sun shone as they were passing along, he would descend from his car and mount thereon; and if the god Indra [King of Heaven] should see them, he would quit his throne and place himself therein. So that persons of high rank, who do not disdain to use them, vary the furniture according to the seasons: during hot weather the blinds are made of veti-ver;^[27] in the rainy season, of oiled silk; and in winter, of wool. Those, however, who use them most frequently are traders, bankers, government servants, and Muslim and Hindu women.—Besides the carriages just described there is a kind of throne, called nalki, for sovereigns; and for the Amir, palanquins with trimmings of fringe, termed palki. The palanquins of ladies are the mahadol, chandol, sukhpul, and miana; and for the female poor, doli. So that a lady, comme il faut, need never walk, and no individual who is not mahram [who is not privileged to visit the harem] can ever see her figure.”

Among the other kinds of litters or carriages used in the East are: the imari, carried by elephants and camels, so named from Imar, the inventor, also called hodaj, or hawdaj (howdah), made of wood, or cloth stretched over a frame, and either open or covered at the top; and the takht-i-ravan, usually carried by mules within shafts before and behind: it is the Armamaxa, in which the children of Darius and their attendants were carried. (Quintus Curtius, b. iii, c. 3.)

Page 4. “The King... was at that moment returning from the chase.”—Hunting the antelope, wild-ass, &c., has been the favourite pastime of the kings and nobles of Persia from the most ancient times. The modern kings of Persia have palaces in many parts of their dominions, whither they resort for the climate or for the chase. To these palaces are attached villages, in which provisions are collected for the use of the court as soon as the motions of the King are decided.^[28]—For a graphic description of the Persian mode of hunting the antelope, with hawks as well as dogs, see Sir John Malcolm’s Sketches of Persia.

Page 4. “Kissed the ground of respectful obedience.”—The Persians in their salutations and acts of submission so prostrate themselves as almost to place their faces on the ground. This prostration, called ruy zamin (“the face on the ground”), is made by bowing the body at right angles, the hands placed on the knees, and the legs a little apart.—In allusion to this mode of salutation, the Persian poet Hafiz declares that, in the presence of his fair enslaver, he would make besoms of his eyelashes; as Richardson paraphrases it:

Lane, in the Notes to his translation of the Thousand and One Nights, thus describes the Arabian (or modern Egyptian) mode of paying respect to superiors: touching the ground, and then the lips and forehead, or turban, with the right hand.—The Khalif Hakim Biamri ’llah (11th century) issued an order that no one in future should kiss the ground in his presence, or salute him in the highway, or kiss his hand or stirrup; because to prostrate oneself before a human being was an act of worship introduced by the Greeks; and the only formula of salutation should be: “May protection be vouchsafed to the Prince of the Faithful! May the mercy and blessings of God rest upon him!”

Page 5. “Fixed by the fascinating beauty of the damsel,” &c.—The lithographed text says: “From the effect of her glance the heart became lost, and the bird of his soul began to take flight in the atmosphere of love.... He pushed forward his courser, and recited this gazal [or ode]:

Page 5. “Ruler of the world.” The text gives the address of the litter-attendants to the King as follows:

“Whatever may be the advice of the Padishah who adorns the world, it is the eye [i.e. the essence] of correct judgment.

Thy command [will be] the support of the life and the happiness of the father and the daughter. If they had seen in a dream this happiness, they would not be able to contain themselves in this world, especially in a state of wakefulness. But for every transaction there is custom and propriety, [so that] if they [i.e. the litter attendants] escort at this moment the daughter to the city, people will raise doubts, and foster a suspicion touching the King, [on the score] of undue haste and impatience, and will assert that the King had carried off this lady by force and abuse of power, and [thus] would arise [tittle-tattle respecting] the question and answer of the lovers, and the exulting triumph^[30] of the enemies. This is the right course to pursue: if the King grant permission, we will convoy the daughter to Sipahsalar, that he may do for this discharge of duty whatever is the custom; and, having provided suitable paraphernalia, send back the daughter to the Padishah; and thus both the vizier’s dignity would be maintained, and also the [love] affair of the Padishah be accomplished in a becoming manner.”

The giving of a dowry is indispensable, and without it no marriage is legal. According to the rank in life of the bride, it consists of a wardrobe, jewels, furniture, slaves, eunuchs, and a sum of money varying in amount. No portion of the dowry can be taken away by the husband against the wife’s wish. She remains absolute mistress of the whole of her own property, inherited, or otherwise acquired. (Voyages de M. Chardin en Perse, &c.; Lane’s Modern Egyptians.)

Page 6. “He caused the necessary ceremonies to be performed.”—Here again the text is fuller than our translation:

“And the marriage-knot was tied in strict conformity with the law. And when the ceremony was concluded, all the secretaries of the government wrote letters of congratulation, and apprised Sipahsalar of the submission to this insult. When Sipahsalar read the letters a flood of tears poured down from his eyes, and the fire of enmity kindled a flame in his heart. And although the King had settled the matter religiously and according to the law, yet when all that had transpired reached his ears, his heart bled to overflowing, by reason of the excess of affection for his daughter. Sipahsalar, considering it good policy, wrote a letter of thanks to his Excellency the Padishah, replete with all kinds of expressions, evincing joy and felicity: ‘This is indeed happiness, that such powerful support should be extended towards me! I am utterly unable to quit myself of the obligation I am under for this high honour, now that his Majesty has placed this crown of glory on the head of his slave. As soon as I arrive in the royal presence, I will kiss the ground of felicity.’

“Dissembling, he penned these phrases, and concealed the [evil] intention of his wrath, and day and night was devising deceit and stratagem.”

The Vizier of Azadbakht could ill brook his rights as a father being set at naught. The parent, or nearest adult relation, is always the deputy of the future bride to effect the marriage contract. Moreover, Sipahsalar considered this tyrannical proceeding as an ungrateful return for his services with the army. Notwithstanding the King’s rather brusque manner of wooing, however, the lady is represented as being devotedly attached to him, and she braved the perils of the desert for his sake.

Page 8. “To seek an asylum from the King of Kirman.”—The text has also the following quatrain:

Kirman (Carmania) is a province of Persia (the ancient Gedrasia), having to the north Khurasan, to the east Afghanistan and Biluchistan, to the south the Persian Gulf, to the west Fars and Luristan. Carmanicus Sinus: the Gulf of Ormuz. Kirman is the plural of kirm, a worm, and the province where silkworms were originally bred. It is celebrated for the cultivation of the white rose, from which `itr-i-gul (attar of roses) is distilled; and also for a peculiar breed of sheep, called dumbadar, small, short-legged, with a long bushy tail.

Page 9. “Directed their course towards the desert,” i.e. of Kirman.—The text has this quatrain:

Page 9. “A hundred thousand lives such as mine are not in value equal to a single hair of the King’s head.”—In less extravagant terms does a distressed damsel in another romance express herself: “Of a truth, noble man, you have displayed your compassionate nature; but I cannot consent to save my body at the cost of yours: for who ought to save a common stone by the sacrifice of a gem?”—Vetala Panchavinsati, or Twenty-five Tales of a Demon.

Page 10. “The Queen brought forth a son; in beauty he was lovely as the moon,” &c.—The Orientals compare beautiful youths, as well as damsels, to the moon: Hafiz styles Joseph the Hebrew patriarch—who is throughout the Muhammadan world regarded as the type of youthful beauty—“the Moon of Canaan.” Morier remarks, in his Second Journey to Persia, &c.: “The Eastern women suffer little from parturition, for the better sort of them are frequently on foot the day after delivery, and out of all confinement on the third day [this on the authority of Harmer, vol. iv, p. 434]. They are sometimes ‘delivered ere the midwives come in unto them’: Exodus, i, 19; and the lower orders often deliver themselves. I knew an instance where a peasant’s wife, in Turkey, who was at work in a vineyard, stepped behind the hedge, delivered herself, and carried the child home slung behind her back.”

Page 10. “They wrapped up the child in a cloak embroidered with gold, and fastened a bracelet of large pearls,” &c.—In the legend of Pope Gregory, the child is exposed with gold at his head and silver at his feet (see the English Gesta Romanorum, chapter 51; edited by Herrtage); and in one of the Tales of the Vetala, a child is similarly exposed, with a sum of gold, at the gate of a royal palace, and the King adopts him as his son and successor (Katha Sarit Sagara, Ocean of the Rivers of Narrative).

Page 10. “He sent his servants to welcome them, and received them with the greatest respect and hospitality;” that is, by a deputation (istikbal), one of the principal modes among the Persians of doing honour to their guests. Those sent in advance to meet the guests are called pish vaz, “openers of the way.” In the ninth chapter we find the approaching guests met at the distance of two days’ journey^[31] from the city. “On the day of our entry,” says Morier, in his Second Journey, “we were met by the youngest son of the Aminu-’d-Dawla, a boy of about thirteen years of age, who received the ambassador [Sir Gore Ouseley] with all the ease of an old courtier.” So, too, the King of Kirman “sent his own son and two attendants to wait on Azadbakht.”

Page 11. “The musicians singing and playing, and the guests drinking.”—Music contributes as much as wine to the pleasures of an Eastern carousal. “Wine,” they say, “is as the body, music is the soul, and joy is their offspring.” The gamut, or scale of musical notes, is called in the East, durr-imafassal, “separate pearls.” The musical instruments commonly employed are: the Kanun, the dulcimer or harp; the sitar, a three-stringed instrument (from si, three, and tar, string), whence cithara and guitar; and the arghan or orghanun, the organ. Old Persian writers describe the arghan as invented by Iflatun (Plato), and as superior to all psalteries (mazamir), and used in Yunan (Ionia or Greece) and in Rum (Iconium). Also the chang (Arabic, junk), the harp; the rabab, rebeck; the tambur, tambourine; and the barbat, or barbitan.—Morier, in his Second Journey (p. 92), was treated with a concert of four musicians; “one of whom played on the Kamancha [viol]; a second sang, fanning his mouth with a piece of paper to aid the undulations of his voice; the third was a tambourine-player; and the last beat two little drums placed on the ground before him.” Gentius, in a note to the Gulistan of Sa`di, says that “music is in such consideration [in Persia], that it is a maxim of their sages, that when a king is about to die, if he leaves for his successor a very young son, his aptitude for reigning should be proved by some agreeable songs; and if the child is pleasurably affected, then it is a sign of his capacity and genius, but if the contrary, he should be declared unfit.”—It would appear that the old Persian musicians, like Timotheus, know the secret art of swaying the passions. The celebrated philosopher Alfarabi (who died about the middle of the tenth century), among his other accomplishments, excelled in music, in proof of which a curious anecdote is told. Returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca, he introduced himself, though a stranger, at the court of Sayfu-’d-Dawla, Sultan of Syria, when a party of musicians chanced to be performing, and he joined them. The prince admired his skill, and desiring to hear something of his own, Alfarabi unfolded a composition, and distributed the parts among the band. The first movement threw the prince and his courtiers into violent and inextinguishable laughter, the next melted all into tears, and the last lulled even the performers to sleep.—At the retaking of Bagdad by the Turks, in 1638, when the springing of a mine, whereby eight hundred janissaries perished, was the signal for a general massacre, and thirty thousand Persians were put to the sword, “a Persian musician, named Shah Kuli, who was brought before Murad, played and sang so sweetly, first a song of triumph, and then a dirge, that the Sultan, moved to pity by his music, gave orders to stop the massacre.”^[32]

Page 11. “His eyes were filled with tears.”—Although Muslims are remarkably calm and resigned under the heaviest afflictions, yet they do not consider the shedding of tears as either evidence of effeminacy or inconsistent with a heroic mind.—Lane. In the old Badawi Romance of `Antar (of which an epitome is given in my Arabian Poetry for English Readers) the hero is frequently represented as weeping.

Page 11. “The King of Kirman then inquired into the particulars of Azadbakht’s misfortunes.”—It thus appears that, in accordance with the time-honoured rules of Eastern hospitality, the King received Azadbakht as his guest without subjecting him to any preliminary questioning; and only diffidently “inquired into the particulars” after the unhappy monarch had informed him that he was a fugitive from his kingdom. The old Arabs, like the old Scottish Highlanders, were scrupulous in abstaining from inquiring the name and tribe of a chance guest, lest he should prove an enemy; and if, after the guest had eaten of their bread and salt, he was found to belong to a hostile tribe or clan, he would be entertained during three days, should he so desire, and then be dismissed unharmed.

Page 12. Farrukhsuwar: from farrukh, fortunate, happy, and suwar, a cavalier, a horseman; especially a Persian chief, as being skilled in horsemanship and archery. Suwar-i-Sistan: Rustam, the famous Persian hero.

Page 13. “He resolved to adopt the infant as his own.”—The Muhammadan law (says Lane) allows the adoption of sons, provided that the person to be adopted consents to the act, if of age to judge for himself; also that he has been deprived of his parents by death or other means; and that there be such a difference of age between the two parties as might subsist between a natural father and son. The adopted son enjoys the same right of inheritance as the natural son.—Farrukhsuwar, we see, though a chief of banditti, yet took care that his adopted son should be “instructed in all the necessary accomplishments.” The adoption of sons is universal throughout the East—in Persia, India, Japan; in the latter country, “the principle of adoption,” says Mr Mitford, in his Tales of Old Japan, “prevails among all classes, from the Emperor down to his meanest subject; nor is the family line considered to have been broken because an adopted son has succeeded to the estate.”

Page 13. Khuda-dad, i.e., “granted by God”: Deodatus; Theodore.

Page 13. “Able to fight, alone, five hundred men.” This is one of the few instances of Oriental hyperbole which occur in the work; and since we do not find our hero represented subsequently as distinguishing himself by his prowess, except on the occasion which led to his capture, it must be considered as introduced by the author conventionally, or by way of embellishment. The heroes of Eastern romance, for the most part, are not only beautiful as the moon, and accomplished in all the arts and sciences, but also strong and courageous as a lion. In the romance of Dushwanta and Sakuntala, an episode of the great Indian epic poem, Mahabharata, the son of the beautiful heroine is thus described: “Sakuntala was delivered of a son, of inconceivable strength, bright as the God of Fire, the image of Dushwanta, endowed with personal beauty and generosity of soul.... This mighty child seemed as if he could destroy lions with the points of his white teeth. He bore on his hand the mark of a wheel, which is the sign of sovereignty. His person was beautiful, his head capacious, he possessed great bodily strength, and his appearance was that of a celestial. During the short time that he remained under the care of Kanwa, he grew exceedingly; and when he was only six years old, his strength was so great that he was wont to bind such beasts as lions, tigers, elephants, wild boars, and buffaloes to the trees about the hermitage. He would even mount them, ride them about, and play with them to tame them; whence the inhabitants of Kanwa’s hermitage gave him a name: ‘Let him,’ said they, ‘be called Sarva-damana, because he tameth all;’ and thus the child obtained the name of Sarva-damana.”—And the Arabian hero `Antar, while yet a mere stripling, slew a wolf, and carried home its paws to his slave-mother as a trophy. (Compare with this the youthful exploit of David with a lion and a bear, 1 Sam. xvii, 34, 35.) So, too, in the Early English Romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton;—when only seven years old, Bevis knocked down two stout men with his cudgel; and while still in his “teens” he slew single-handed sixty Saracen knights.

Page 14. “The chief of the caravan.”—The Mihtar Karwan, or Karwan Bash, held a position of responsibility and importance. By the payment of armed attendants he took precautions against the attack of brigands, as the merchants who formed a caravan were, it is said, on most occasions, so devoid of courage that they cried “quarter” at the mere sight of a drawn sword.

Page 15. “He also put on him his own robe” (Kaba-i Khass).—The Kaba is a tunic, or long cloth coat, of any colour, quite open in front, and worn over the shirt, and is the special garment of the rich, and so distinguished by Sa`di (Gulistan, ch. ii, story 17) from the aba, or abaya, a kind of woollen cloak, either black or striped brown and white, the garment of the poor.

Page 15. “The name of Bakhtyar,” that is, “he whom Fortune assists,” or, “Fortune-befriended.”

Page 16. “The keys of the treasury” were of gold.

Page 16. “A splendid robe of honour.”—A Khil`at, or dress of honour, is bestowed by Eastern monarchs on men of learning and genius, as well as on tributary princes on their accession to their principalities, and on viceroys and governors of provinces. The custom is very ancient; see Esther vi, 8, 9. “A common Khil`at,” says Morier, “consists of a Kaba, or coat; a Kemerbend, or zone; a guch pich, or shawl for the head: when it is intended to be more distinguishing, a sword or a dagger is superadded. To persons of distinction rich furs are given, such as a Katabi, or a Koordi; but when the Khal`at is complete it consists exactly of the same articles as the present which Cyrus made to Syennesis, namely: a horse with a golden bridle; a golden chain; a golden sword<sup>[33]</sup>; besides the dress, which is complete in all its parts.”<sup>[34]</sup>—In India an elephant and a palanquin splendidly decorated are added to the dress, sword, &c. Dr Forbes, in a note to his translation of the Bagh o Bahar (Garden and Spring), the Hindustani version of the entertaining Persian romance, Kissa Chehar Dervish, or Tale of the Four Dervishes, remarks that “in the zenith of the Mogul empire Khil`ats were expensive honours, as the receivers were obliged to make presents for the Khil`ats they received. The perfection of these Oriental dresses,” he adds, “is to be so stiff with embroidery as to stand on the floor unsupported.”—After Rustam’s Seven Adventures in releasing Kai Kaus from the power of the White Giant, we read in Firdausi’s Shah Nama (or Book of Kings) that he received from Kaus a splendid Khil`at besides other magnificent presents. And in the Romance of `Antar, King Zuhayr causes a great feast to be prepared to celebrate the defeat of the tribe of TaÏ, which was chiefly due to the hero; at which he presents `Antar with a robe worked with gold, girds on him a trusty sword, and placing in his hand a pike of Khata, and mounting him on a fine Arab horse, proclaims him champion of the tribes of `Abs and `Adnan.

Page 16. “There were Ten Viziers.”—“Wezeer,” says Lane, “is an Arabic word, and is pronounced by the Arabs as I have written it, but the Turks and Persians pronounce the first letter V. There are three opinions respecting the etymology of this word. Some derive it from wizr (a burden), because the Wezeer bears the burden of the King; others, from wezer (a refuge), because the King has recourse to the counsels of his Wezeer, and his knowledge and prudence; others, again, from azr (back, or strength), because the King is strengthened by his Wezeer, as the human frame is strengthened by the back. The proper and chief duties of a Wezeer are explained by the above, and by a saying of the Prophet: ‘Whosoever is in authority over Muslims, if God would prosper him, He giveth him a virtuous Wezeer, who when he forgetteth his duty remindeth him, and when he remembereth assisteth him; but if He would do otherwise, He giveth him an evil Wezeer, who when he forgetteth doth not remind him, and when he remembereth doth not assist him.’”—The Kur’an and the Sunna (or Traditions) both distinctly authorise a sovereign to select a Vizier to assist him in the government. The Prophet makes Moses say (Kur. xx, 30): “Give me a counsellor [Ar. Wezeer] of my family, namely Aaron my brother;” and again, in ch. xxv, 37: “We appointed him [Moses] Aaron his brother for a counsellor.” Wahidi, in his commentary on the Kur’an, says: “Wezeer signifies refuge and assistance.” In the fourth year of his mission Muhammad assumed the prophetic office, when “he prepared a banquet, a lamb, as it is said, and a bowl of milk, for the entertainment of forty guests of the race of Hashem. ‘Friends and kinsmen,’ said Muhammad to the assembly, ‘I offer you, and I alone can offer, the most precious of gifts, the treasures of this world and of the world to come. God has commanded me to call you to His service. Who among you will support my burthen? Who among you will be my companion and my vizier?’”—Gibbon, chap. 1.

King Azadbakht, we see, had no fewer than ten of such “burden-bearers”; in chapter ix there is another King with ten viziers; and in an ancient Indian romance referred to by El-Mas’udi in his Meadows of Gold and Mines of Gems, the same number of viziers is given to a king: “Shelkand and Shimas, or the Story of an Indian King and his Ten Viziers”; in what is probably a modernised version of the same romance, included in the Thousand and One Nights, under the title of “King Jilaa, the Vizier Shimas, and their Sons,” there are however but Seven Viziers—the number in most of the romances of the Sindibad cycle. According to the learned Imam El-Jara’i, cited by Lane, ten is the proper number of counsellors for any man: “It is desirable,” says he, “for a man, before he enters upon any important undertaking, to consult ten intelligent persons among his particular friends; or if he have not more than five such friends, let him consult each of them twice; or if he have not more than one friend, he should consult him ten times, at ten different visits^[35];—if he have not one to consult, let him return to his wife and consult her, and whatever she advises him to do, let him do the contrary, so shall he proceed rightly in his affair and attain his object.”—This reminds me of a story told of Khoja Nasru-’d-Din Efendi, the Turkish joker, who, wishing to make Timur a present of some fruit, consulted his wife as to whether he should take him figs or quinces, and on her answering, “Oh, quinces, of course,” the Khoja, reflecting that a woman’s advice is never good, took Timur a basket of figs; and when the emperor ordered his attendants to pelt the Khoja on his bald pate with the ripe, juicy figs, he thanked Heaven that he had not taken his wife’s advice: “for had I, as she advised, brought quinces instead of figs, my head had surely been broken!”^[36] This most unjust estimate of women, so generally held by Muslims and giving rise to such proverbial sayings as “women have long hair and short wits,” is in accordance with the atrocious saying ascribed (falsely, let us hope) to the Prophet: “I stood at the gate of Paradise, and lo! most of its inmates were poor; and I stood at the gate of Hell, and lo! most of its inmates were women!” Contrast this with the following passage from the Mahabharata: “The wife is half the man; a wife is man’s dearest friend; a wife is the source of his religion, his worldly profit, and his love. He who hath a wife maketh offerings in his house. Those who have wives are blest with good fortune. Wives are friends, who by their gentle speech soothe ye in your retirement. In the performance of religious duties they are as fathers; in your distresses they are as mothers^[37]; and they are a refreshment to those who are travellers in the rugged paths of life.”

Page 16. “Indulged in the pleasures of wine.”—The Kur’an prohibits the use of wine and all other intoxicating liquors: “They will ask thee concerning wine and lots; answer, in both there is great sin” (ch. ii, 216). Some of the early followers of the Prophet held this text as doubtful, and continued to indulge in wine; but another text enjoins them not to come to prayer while they are drunk, until they know what they would say (ch. iv, 46). From this it would appear that Muhammad “meant merely to restrain his followers from unbecoming behaviour, and other evil effects of intoxication;” serious quarrels, however, resulting from drinking wine, a text in condemnation of the practice was issued: “Ye who have become believers! verily wine, and lots, and images, and divining arrows are an abomination of the work of the Devil; therefore avoid them that ye may prosper” (ch. v, 92).—Mills was certainly in error in stating that “for ages before the preaching of the Prophet of Mecca, wine was but little drunk either in Egypt or Arabia.”^[38] In the Mu`allaqat, or Seven Poems suspended in the Temple at Mecca, which present true pictures of Arabian manners and customs during the century immediately preceding the time of Muhammad, wine-drinking is frequently mentioned. Thus the poet `Amru calls for his morning draught of rich hoarded wine, saying that it is the liquor which diverts the lover from his passion, and even causes the miser to forget his pelf; Lebeid says that he often goes to the shop of the wine-merchant, when he spreads his flag in the air, and sells his wine at a high price; and the poet-hero `Antar quaffs old wine when the noontide heat is abated. However this may be, the law of the Kur’an is clear—believers are not allowed to drink intoxicating liquors. Yet it would appear, from the tales of the Thousand and One Nights, that wine was extensively drunk by the higher classes of Muslims in all countries until a comparatively recent date; and assuredly the wine there mentioned was not the harmless beverage which the Prophet indulged in and permitted to his followers—“prepared by putting grapes or dry dates in water to extract their sweetness, and suffering the liquor to ferment slightly until it acquired a little sharpness or pungency”—since we read in the story, for instance, of “The Three Ladies of Bagdad and the Porter,” that wine was drunk to intoxication. The modern Persians justify their occasional excessive wine-drinking by the remark: “there is as much sin in a flagon as in a glass;”^[39] and the Turks despise the small glasses commonly used by Europeans in their potations.^[40] Cantemir, in his History of the Othman Empire, relates a curious story of how Murad IV, the seventeenth Turkish Sultan (1622–1639), became a drunkard:

Not content to drink wine in private, Murad compelled even the Muftis and other ministers to drink with him, and also, by a public edict, allowed wine to be sold and drunk by men of all ranks. It is said Murad was led into this degrading vice by a man named Bakri Mustafa. As the Sultan was one day going about the market-place in disguise, he chanced to see this man wallowing in the mud, almost dead drunk. Wondering at the novelty of the thing, he inquired of his attendants what was the matter with the man, who seemed to him a lunatic. Being told that the fellow was drunk with wine, he wanted to know what sort of liquor that was, of whose effects he was yet ignorant. Meanwhile Mustafa gets up, and with opprobrious words bids the Sultan stand off. Astonished at the man’s boldness, “Rascal!” he exclaimed, “dost thou bid me, who am the Sultan Murad, be gone?”—“And I,” answered the fellow, “am Bakri [i.e. the Drunkard] Mustafa, and if thou wilt sell me this city, I will buy it, and then I shall be Sultan Murad, and thou Bakri Mustafa.”—Murad demanding where he would get the money to purchase such a city, Mustafa replied: “Don’t trouble thyself about that; for, what is more, I will buy, too, the son of a bond-woman.”^[41] Murad agreed to this, and ordered Mustafa to be taken to the palace. After some hours, the fumes of the wine being dispersed, Mustafa came to his senses, and finding himself in a gilded and sumptuous room, he inquired of those who attended him: “What does this mean?—am I dreaming?—or do I taste of the pleasures of Paradise?” They told him of what had passed, and of his bargain with the Sultan. Upon this he fell into a great fright, well knowing Murad’s fierce disposition. But necessity abetting his invention, he declared himself on the point of death, unless he could have some wine to restore his spirits. The keepers, that he might not die before being brought into the Sultan’s presence, gave him a pot full of wine, which he concealed in his bosom. On being ushered into the audience-chamber, the Sultan commanded him to pay so many millions as the price of the city. Taking the pot of wine from his bosom, Mustafa said: “This, O Sultan, is what would yesterday have purchased Istambol. And were you likewise possessed of this wealth, you would think it preferable to the sovereignty of the universe.” Murad asked how that could be. “By drinking of this divine liquor,” answered Mustafa, offering the cup to the Sultan, who, from curiosity, took a large draught, which, as he was unused to wine, immediately made him so drunk that he fancied the world could not contain him. Afterwards growing giddy, he was seized with sleep, and in a few hours waking with a headache, sent for Mustafa, in a great passion. Mustafa instantly appeared, and perceiving the case, “Here,” said he, “is your remedy,” and gave him a cup of wine, by which his headache was presently removed, and his former gladness restored. When this had been repeated two or three times, Murad was by degrees so addicted to wine that he was drunk almost every day. Bakri Mustafa, his tutor in drunkenness, was admitted among the privy-counsellors, and was always near the Sultan. At his death Murad ordered the whole court to go into mourning, but caused his body to be buried with great pomp in a tavern among the wine-casks. After his decease the Sultan declared he never enjoyed one merry day; and when Mustafa chanced to be mentioned he was often seen to burst into tears, and to sigh from the bottom of his heart. “Seldom, if ever,” moralises Cantemir, “has so much favour been obtained by the precepts of virtue as Mustafa acquired by the dictates of vice.”

To return to the quotation at the beginning of this long note; that the wine in which our young hero Bakhtyar indulged to such an extent as to deprive him of his senses was not a mild beverage, admits of no question: again, in chapter viii, page 93, we find a King and his favourite companion carousing together, until the former falls into a drunken sleep.

Page 18. “How could a person bred up in a desert, and by profession a robber, be fit for the society of a king?”—Sa`di, the celebrated Persian poet, in his Gulistan, or Rose-Garden, says: “No one whose origin is bad ever catches the reflection of the good” (ch. i, tale 4); and again: “How can we make a good sword out of bad iron? A worthless person cannot by education become a person of worth;” and yet again: “Evil habits, which have taken root in one’s nature, will only be got rid of at the hour of death.” Firdausi, the Homer of Persia, in his scathing satire on the Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni, has the following remarks on the same subject:

Page 19. “You have entered the recesses of my harem.”—Only husbands, fathers, brothers, uncles, fathers-in-law, and very young boys are mahram, or privileged to enter the apartments of women in Muslim countries. The fact of the chief Vizier visiting the Queen in the harem (page 19) should lead us to conclude, either that the story is of Indian origin, or that the worthy minister was “a neutral personage”—not to put too fine a point on it.

Page 20. “By a false testimony.”—Among the Muslims falsehood in certain cases is not only allowed but commended. Even oaths of different kinds are more or less binding. Expiation is permitted by law for an inconsiderate oath, and, according to some, even for the violation of a deliberate oath. The expiation consists in once feeding or clothing ten poor men, liberating a slave or captive, or fasting three days. An unintentional oath requires no expiation; but the swearing to a falsehood can only be expiated by deep repentance.—Lane.

In Cazotte’s French rendering—or rather, adaptation—of the Arabian version of this work, under the title of “The Story of King Bohetzad and his Ten Viziers,” the name of the young hero is not Bakhtyar, but Aladdin—properly, `Ala`u-’d-Din, “Exaltation of the Faith”; for Sipahsalar there is a prime minister whose name is Asphand, and his daughter, Baherjoa, was being conveyed, not to the Vizier, as in our version, but to the Prince of Babylon, to whom she was to be married. The order of the tales varies from that in the Persian work and two additional tales are interpolated. There is one point, however, in which this rendering, or version, is, I think, superior to the Persian, namely, that while in the Bakhtyar-story we are told that after the King recovered his throne and kingdom, he and the Queen “passed their days in tranquillity, interrupted only by the remembrance of their child, whom they had left in the desert, and whom, they were persuaded, wild beasts must have devoured the same hour in which they abandoned him,” but they do not appear to have taken any steps to ascertain his fate;—in Cazotte’s version trusty messengers are despatched far and wide to learn, if possible, tidings of the child, though without success. This is but natural, and what we should expect, particularly on the part of an Eastern monarch, from the well-known affection of Asiatics for their male offspring, which are considered as the light or splendour of the house; and if it be an interpolation by Cazotte—one of the “disfigurements” of which he is accused by Deslongchamps^[43]—it is very decidedly an improvement on his original.—Bohetzad’s kingdom is called Dineroux, “which comprehends all Syria, and the Isles of India lying at the mouth of the Persian Gulf;” his capital is Issessara. One or two other points of difference may also find a place here. In our translation, when the royal fugitives abandoned their infant in the desert, “their hearts were afflicted with anguish;” but in Lescallier’s French rendering, the King is represented as exclaiming, on this occasion: “O my dear infant! thy father sheds rivers of tears from his eyes, because of thy absence, like the father of Joseph the Egyptian, when his son was departed from the land of Canaan!”—while according to Cazotte: “Great God!” cried the afflicted mother, bedewing her babe with her tears, “who didst watch over the safety of young Ishmael, preserve this innocent babe!” The reference to Ishmael is possibly an alteration by the Arabian translator.—It is not, as in the Persian work, the King of Kirman of whom the fugitive pair seek protection and assistance, but Kassera, King of Persia—no doubt, meaning Khusru (called by the Greeks Chosroes), the general title of the Persian Kings of the Sassanian dynasty, thus, Khusru Parviz, Khusru Nushirvan. He furnishes Bohetzad with an immense army for the recovery of his kingdom, and the Queen (Baherjoa) remains under his protection until Bohetzad should have punished his rebellious Vizier. But meanwhile the King of Persia becomes deeply enamoured of the beauteous Baherjoa; and when envoys arrive from Bohetzad to bring back the Queen, Khusru’s first impulse is to refuse to deliver her up, but at length better feelings prevail over his passion, and he restores her to the envoys in a magnificent litter, and with numerous female attendants.

Notes on Chapter II.

Page 22. “Rooted out of the soil of his empire;” the text adds, “as an example to evil-doers.”

Page 22. “On the eve of my departure from this world,” &c. The text reads: “But the law of God hath commanded that an innocent person should exculpate and exert himself in his own defence. God, the Most Holy and the Most High (hakk subhanahu wa ta`ala), knows that I am innocent of these suspicions” [or allegations].

Page 23. Bakhtyar saluted the Padishah, and spoke out with fluency and eloquence.

Page 23. Basra.—Situated on the Shattu-’l-`Arab (the river of the Arabs—the united stream of the Tigris and the Euphrates), Basra is the principal port in the Persian Gulf, and is so named from the white stones (basra) near and around it. Renowned for its school of grammar, the Arabic dual al-basratan (the Two Basras) denotes the rival seats of learning, Basra and Kufa.—See D’Herbelot, art. Coufeh.—Built by the command of the pious Khalif `Omar, A.H. 15 (A.D. 636), it was called “the land of purity,” never having been polluted by any idolatrous worship. Irrigated by the river Ayla, which falls into the Tigris close to it, its gardens are so fruitful that it is reckoned one of the four earthly paradises of Asia—the other three being the valleys of Shiraz, Damascus, and Samarkand.

Page 23. “And the Merchant thought”—the text has “that a voyage by sea and land might jeopardise life and property, but by laying out what remained,” &c.—The antipathy of the Persians to a sea-voyage is well known, and very distinctly professed by the poet Hafiz. “He had heard of the munificent encouragement which Sultan Mahmud Shah Bahami, an accomplished prince then reigning in the Dek’han, afforded to poets and learned men, and became desirous of visiting his court. Hearing of this wish, and desirous himself of forming an acquaintance with Hafiz, Sultan Mahmud sent him, through the hands of his vizier, Mir Fazlu’llah Anju, an invitation and a handsome sum of money to defray the expenses of his journey. Thereupon he set out and advanced on his expedition as far as Lar. There he encountered a friend who had been plundered by robbers, on whom he bestowed a part of his money, and not having left himself sufficient to prosecute his journey, was compelled to accept the assistance of two merchants whom he fortunately met with there, and who kindly took him with them to Hurmuz. There he found a ship ready to sail to the Dek’han, and took his passage in her. But a storm having arisen, he was so terrified by it, that he abandoned his intention, and sending a letter of excuse to the vizier, with an ode to the King, returned himself to Shiraz. He says:

Page 24. “Most of the houses were washed away.”—Probably owing to the non-adhesive qualities of the mortar generally employed in the construction of Persian houses: a mixture, half of mud, one fourth of lime, and the rest ashes of burnt straw and rubbish.

Page 25. “Trees and running streams.”—The dryness of the Persian climate and the deficiency of rivers have exercised in ancient (Polybius, lib. 10, 25) as in modern times the ingenuity of the natives in the discovery of springs.—In the Story of Abu Temam (page 98) a city is also described as “adorned with gardens and running streams.” It was a saying of Muhammad that “three things fortify the sight: looking at verdure, at running water, and at a handsome face.”

Page 25. Dihkan is a compound word, from dih, a village, and khan, lord, or chief.

Page 25. “Erected a summer-house”—the text adds, “and on it a lofty watch-tower.”

Page 25. “The stranger was entertained with politeness and hospitality.”—The Kur’an (iv, 40) enjoins the believer to “serve God... and show kindness unto... your neighbour who is a stranger... and the traveller” (ibnu-’s sabil: son of the road). The practice of hospitality among the pre-Islamite Arabs is too well known to require more than passing mention, and reference to Professor Lee’s note on Job xxi, 16.

Page 25. “A suit of his clothes”; his own jubba and dastar. The jubba is a vest with cotton quilted between the outside and the lining; the dastar is the sash, or fine muslin cloth, wrapped round the turban.

Page 25. “Account of his property” &c.—signet, chattels, and ledger—“and said, ‘you must manifest your zeal in the seasons of sowing and of harvest, and become the mushrif of my property.’” A mushrif is an officer of the treasury, who authenticates accounts and writings. The dihkan gave him his signet, in order that he might transact his business with full authority. “Seals, or signets,” says Dr H. H. Wilson, “were from the earliest periods commonly used in the East. Ahasuerus takes his signet off his hand and gives it, first to Haman, and again to Mordecai; and Herodotus notices that each of the Babylonians wore a seal-ring. The Greeks and Romans had their rings curiously engraved with devices, and that cast by Polycrates into the sea was the work of an engraver whose name the historian has thought not unworthy of commemoration. The use of the seal amongst the Orientals at the present day is not, as with us, to secure an envelope, but to verify letters and documents in place of a written signature. Amongst the natives of Hindustan, both Muhammadan and Hindu, the seal is engraved with the name of the wearer, and the surface being smeared superficially only with ink, the application of the seal to the paper leaves the letters which are cut in the stone white on a black ground. Such also was the manner in which the seals of the Greeks and Romans were applied.” Lane, in his Modern Egyptians, says: “On the little finger of the right hand is worn a seal-ring (Khatim), which is generally of silver, with a cornelian, or other stone, upon which is engraved the wearer’s name; the name is accompanied by the words ‘his servant’—signifying the servant, or worshipper, of God—and often by other words expressive of the person’s trust in God, &c. (see St. John’s Gospel iii, 33, and Exodus xxxix, 30). The Prophet disapproved of gold; therefore few Muslims wear gold rings; but the women have various ornaments (rings, bracelets &c.) of that precious metal. The impression of the seal-ring is considered as more valid than the sign-manual. Therefore giving the ring to another person is the utmost mark of confidence.—See Genesis xli, 42.”

Page 27. “Bit the finger of amazement.”—Biting the hand or finger is a common mode in the East of manifesting surprise, grief, or anger. Thus in the Kur’an, xxv, 29: “On that day the unjust person shall bite his hands for anguish;” and iii, 119: “When they assemble together privately they bite their fingers’-ends out of wrath against you.” In the Gulistan of Sa`di, i, 4: “The King seized the hand of amazement with his teeth;” again, v, 19: “Thine enemy bites the back of his hand through vexation;” and again, vii, 19: “The fingers of astonishment were between their teeth.” In one of the beautiful poems of Bahau-’d-Din Zuhayr, of Egypt (A.D. 1186–1258), elegantly translated by Professor E. H. Palmer:

And in the Turkish poem of Khusrev and Shirin, by Shayki, ob. A.D. 1426 (Mr Gibb’s Ottoman Poems, p. 6):

Page 27. “Driven forth from the village”; the text adds; “and they deprived him of whatever they had given.”

Page 27. “For the sake of God:” a common phrase among Muslims. A rather humorous example of its use occurs in the Gulistan (chap, iv, tale 14): A harsh-voiced man was reading the Kur’an in a loud tone. A pious man passed by him, and said: “What is thy monthly stipend?”—“Nothing,” he replied.—“Why then,” he inquired, “dost thou give thyself all this trouble?”—“I read for the sake of God,” he replied.—“For God sake, then, don’t read,” said he.

Page 27. “A pearl of such exquisite beauty,” &c.—In the East it is popularly believed that the pearl is formed in the oyster from a rain-drop: Sa’di, in the fourth book of his Bustan, has some beautiful verses on this notion, in which he inculcates the practice of humility. Pearls are called marvarid, “production of light,” and, usually when they are unpierced, lu’lu’, “luminous,” “brilliant.” They are divided into twelve classes, each having a distinctive name, according to their “water” or lustre; the first class being called shahvar, “the regal,” the clearest, purest, and most lustrous. Pearls are also divided into twelve classes, according to shape. They are further divided, in respect of size, into fifteen classes, according to the number of holes in the different sieves through which they are passed, from the smallest, of which twelve hundred weigh a miskal, up to the largest, of which forty weigh a miskal. The best pearl-fisheries are at Ceylon, and in the Persian Gulf, at Bahrayn, Kish, and Sharak; but the Arabian pearls are less prized than the Indian. Their colour and quality are said to depend on the bottom of the sea where they are produced: in black slime they are dark; in shallow waters, yellowish.—Tavernier mentions a remarkable pearl found at Katifa, in Arabia, the fishery probably alluded to by Pliny (Nat. Hist. b. ix, c. 54), which he purchased for £10,000 of our money! It is said to be now in the possession of the Shah of Persia.

Page 28. “He put three of the pearls into his mouth and the other three among his clothes.”—It is customary for travellers and others in the East to conceal their money and valuables about their clothes and in the folds of their turbans. Many Oriental stories illustrate this practice. For example, in the tale of the Poor Ropemaker (Arabian Nights—vol. vi, of Jonathan Scott’s edition), he receives a sum of money from a benevolent stranger, and having laid out a moiety of it in material for his trade, he places the remainder within the folds of his turban-cloth, but unluckily a bird snatches it off his head and flies away with it. And in the Talmud there is a story of a poor Hebrew, named Joseph, who paid great respect to the Sabbath. This man had a wealthy neighbour, who was a firm believer in judicial astrology, and having been told by a sagacious professor of the science that all his riches should one day become the property of the Sabbath-observing Joseph, he straightway sold his estate and invested the proceeds in a large diamond, which he secretly sewed within his turban, and departed in a vessel for some distant country—thus preventing, as he fondly imagined, the verification of the astrologer’s prediction. But his precautions were of no avail, for while standing on the deck of the vessel, a sudden gust of wind carried his turban, with all his wealth, into the sea. What became of the ruined man after this misfortune we are not informed. But we are told that, some time after this accident, the pious Joseph went to the market and bought a fish to furnish his table on the Sabbath eve. On opening the fish, the diamond which his old neighbour had lost with his turban was found in its stomach—and thus was the good man’s strict observance of the Sabbath rewarded, and the astrologer’s prediction fulfilled to the letter.

Page 28. The unlucky Merchant’s adventure with the covetous and dishonest jeweller finds a curious parallel in an incident in the “Story of the Jackal, the Barber, and the Brahman,” one of the charming fairy tales in Miss Frere’s Old Deccan Days. The poor Brahman, however, though robbed of the precious stones he offers to the jeweller for sale, escapes home all safe, unlike the Merchant of our story. Possibly the incident in both tales had a common origin;—yet the “roguery of villanous man” (to employ honest Jack Falstaff’s phrase) is pretty much alike in all ages and countries!

Page 29. “They distributed some money among those who were confined.”—Alms are recommended in many passages of the Kur’an: “Pay your legal alms,” ii, 43; “alms are to be distributed to the poor and the needy... for the redemption of captives, insolvent debtors, and, for religion’s sake, unto the traveller,” ix, 53, 60. Alms are of two kinds: (1) obligatory (or zakat), ii, 172; and (2) voluntary (or sadakat), as in the present instance. In scripture we find a trace of the same doctrine: see Daniel iv, 27. The Khalif `Omar Ibn `Abdu-’l-`Aziz used to say: “Prayer carries us half-way to God; Fasting brings us to the door of the palace; and Alms procure us admission.” And assuredly no Eastern moralist has more frequently or more impressively and beautifully inculcated the duty of alms-giving and of liberality than Sa`di. He tells us in the Gulistan, ii, 49, that on the monument of Bahram Gur, a famous Persian King, was written: “The liberal hand is better than the strong arm;” and adds: “Distribute in alms the tithe of thy wealth; for the more the husbandman loppeth off the exuberance of the vine, the more it will yield of grapes.” And in his Bustan, or Fruit-Garden, b. ii, he says: “Bestow thy gold and thy wealth while they are thine; for when thou art gone they will be no longer in thy power.... Distribute thy treasure readily to-day, for to-morrow the key may no longer be in thy hand.... Exert thyself to cast a covering over the poor, that God’s own veil may be a covering for thee.”^[45]

Page 30. “When he had related the story of the Merchant and of the pearls which they had given him”—the text adds, “and the other five divers had confirmed what he said.”

Page 30. “He was then led away to execution; and the King caused to be proclaimed throughout the city,” &c. So, too, in the Thousand and One Nights, the Barber relates how his Fourth Brother was punished with a hundred lashes, “after which they mounted him upon a camel, and proclaimed before him: ‘This is the recompense of him who breaketh into men’s houses.’” Morier, in his Second Journey, gives a graphic description of the punishment of Muhammad Zaman Khan, governor of Astrabad, who, in 1814, “entered into a league with the Turkmans, disavowed the King’s authority, and even made pretensions to the royal power and prerogative.” The King offered a reward for his capture; and the people of Astrabad surrounded the traitor’s palace, forced their way into the room where he was seated, seized and bound him, and carried him before the King. “When he had reached the camp, the King ordered the chief of his camel-artillery to put a mock-crown upon the rebel’s head, armlets on his arms, a sword by his side; to mount him upon an ass, with his face towards the tail and the tail in his hand; then to parade him throughout the camp, and to proclaim: ‘This is he who wished to be King!’ After this was over, and the people had mocked and insulted him, he was brought before the King, who called for the looties and ordered them to turn him into ridicule by making him dance and perform antics against his will. He then ordered that whoever chose might spit in his face. After this he received the bastinado on the soles of his feet, which was administered by the chiefs of his own tribe; and some time after he had his eyes put out.—The strong coincidence,” adds Morier, “between these details and the most awfully affecting part of our own scripture history is a striking illustration of the permanence of Eastern manners.”

Page 30. “Appointed him keeper of the treasury.”—The sudden elevation of persons from a humble and even distressed condition to places of great dignity and wealth has ever been a characteristic of the absolute monarchs of Eastern countries, as well as the degradation and ruin, frequently from mere caprice, and seldom with any justification, of men of the highest rank. The most remarkable instance of the many which Oriental history presents is the execrable conduct of the Khalif Harunu-’r-Rashid, so undeservedly celebrated in the Thousand and One Nights, in murdering his principal Vizier Ja`far and utterly ruining the other members of the noble house of Barmak (the Barmecides of our common translation of the Arabian Nights), all of whom were as famed for their unbounded liberality as for their brilliant abilities. An interesting account of the Barmakis and their ruin is given in Dr Jonathan Scott’s Tales, Anecdotes, &c., from the Arabic and Persian.

Page 32. “Put out the Merchant’s eyes.”—A too common and barbarous punishment in the East. In Turkey a needle was used for this purpose in the case of state prisoners. The Arabian poet-hero `Antar is said to have blinded his implacable and treacherous enemy Wezar by passing a red-hot sword-blade close before his eyes. Years afterwards the blinded chief executed poetical justice by slaying `Antar with a poisoned arrow, which he shot at him on the bank of the Euphrates.

In Cazotte’s version this story is entitled “The Obstinate Man,” perhaps more appropriately than our “Ill-fated Merchant,” since his own wrong-headedness was the main cause of his misfortunes. His place of abode is Bagdad, not Basra. The divers give him ten pearls. The jeweller, having been lately robbed of some pearls, believes Kaskas (such is the man’s name) to be the thief, and accordingly he accuses him; and when the latter is proved to be innocent, the jeweller is punished with two hundred blows of the bastinado. The catastrophe is very differently related: One day he observed in the apartment which had been assigned to him, a door walled-up and concealed by a slight covering of mastic, which was now so much wasted by the effects of time that it crumbled into dust on the slightest touch. Without any exertion of strength, he opened this door and entered unthinkingly into a rich apartment entirely unknown to him, but which he found to be in the interior of the palace. Hardly had he advanced two or three steps when he was perceived by the chief of the eunuchs, who instantly reported what he had seen to the King. The monarch came immediately to the spot. The fragments of the mastic remained upon the ground to show that the door had been forced open, and the stupid amazement of Kaskas completed the appearance of his guilt. “Wretch!” said the King, “dost thou thus repay my favours? My justice saved thee, when I believed thee innocent; now thou art guilty, and I condemn thee to lose thy sight.” The imprudent Kaskas durst not even attempt to justify himself, but was immediately delivered into the hands of the executioner, of whom the only favour he asked was, that he would give him his eyes when he had torn them from their sockets.^[46] He went groping through the streets of the capital with them in his hands, crying: “Behold, all ye good people who hear me, what the unfortunate Kaskas has gained by striving against the decrees of Destiny, and despising the advice of his friends!”

Notes on Chapter III.

Page 33. “Expressed many apprehensions.”—The text gives the address of the Third Vizier as follows: “I am apprehensive lest the affair of Bakhtyar should be known in the out-lying provinces of the world [kingdom], and reaching the ears of sovereigns, occasion scandal, an evil repute arise therefrom. Before this story of Bakhtyar become the common talk, it is expedient to put him to death.”

Page 33. “He petitioned for mercy:” he cried, al-aman!—quarter!—pardon! Byron’s couplet in the Giaour has rendered this word familiar to English readers:

Page 33. “If a king punish without due investigation.”—A Hindu dramatist says:

And Sa`di, in his Bustan, b. I, regarding the duties of a king, says: “If thou sheddest blood, it must not be done without a decree.” But there is too much reason to believe that Eastern monarchs have seldom been guided by the law in administering punishment. Many of the Muslim princes of Northern Africa, in particular, have slain even favourite attendants, from sheer wantonness and love of bloodshed.

Page 34. Aleppo.—The Berica of the Greeks; Aleppo is the Italian form of Halab, the native name. On the fall of Palmyra, Halabu-’s-Shabha (Halab the ash-coloured) became the grand emporium for the productions of Persia and India, conveyed by caravans from Bagdad and Basra to be shipped at Iskenderun, or Latakia, for the different ports of Europe. Under the Greek sovereigns of Syria, Aleppo acquired great wealth and consequence, and flourished still more under the Roman Emperors. An aqueduct, constructed before the time of Constantine, conveys a plentiful supply of water from the springs; and the mosques Jami, Zachari, and HalawÉ, originally Christian churches, are fine specimens of the ancient Roman style, the latter built by the Empress Helena. To the peculiar quality of the water of the Kuwayk (ancient Chalus), which irrigates its far-famed gardens, is ascribed the ring-worm (habala-’s-sina), which attacks the natives once in their lives, and leaves an indelible scar, which distinguishes an Aleppine throughout the East. In 1797 Aleppo was the victim of the plague, and of earthquakes in 1822 and 1830.

Page 34. “Protected strangers.”—The text reads: “A friend of the stranger; who never at any time injured any person, deemed all injustice improper, and never deprived any one of aught.”

Page 34. “A son named Bih-zad,” meaning “well-born,” “legitimate.”

Page 35. “A magnificent litter”—the text adds, “and the curtains of the litter were thrown back;”—thus the youth was able to obtain a view of the lady’s beauty.

Page 35. “When the young man had advanced thus far in his narrative;” the lithographed text says, “when the boon companion had described the lady.”—Readers familiar with Oriental fictions will probably recollect many instances of princes and others becoming enamoured, not only at sight of the portrait of a beautiful woman, but at the mere description of her charms: in such celebrated collections of tales as the Arabian Nights, the Persian Tales ascribed to the Dervish Mokles of Isfahan, and the Bahar-i-Danish (Spring of Knowledge) of `Inayatu-’llah of Dihli. In the Bedawi Romance of `Antar, a noble `Absian named Amara, “a conceited coxcomb, very particular in his dress, fond of perfumes, and always keeping company with women and young girls,” having heard of the beauty of Abla, sends a female slave to the tents of her family to discover whether the damsel was as beautiful as was reported of her; and the girl returning with a glowing account of Abla’s charms, the Bedawi exquisite immediately conceives a violent passion for her—“his ears fell in love before his eyes.”—There is at least one instance on record of a European becoming enamoured from imagination; in the case of Geoffrey Rudel, the gallant troubadour, who fell desperately in love with the Countess of Tripoli, from a description of her beauty and accomplishments: but see the story in Warton’s History of English Poetry.

Page 35. “The city of Rum, the capital and residence of the Kaisar, or Greek Emperor”: Constantinople.—The signification of “Rum” is very vague, as it may denote Rome, the Turkish Empire, Greece, or Rumelia (Rum Eyli). The Persians called the chief of the Seljuki dynasty at Konia (i.e. Iconium), Kaisar-i-Rum. D’Herbelot defines the term Rum as applicable to the countries which the Romans, and afterwards the Greeks and Turks, subdued under their domination. “Roumy [Rumi],” observes Burckhardt, “is a word applied by the Arabs to the Greeks of the Lower Empire, and afterwards to all Christians.” (Travels in Nubia, App. n. iii.) The Persian proverb, Ez Rum ta Sham, “from Rum to Syria,” is quoted to indicate an extent of territory. Kaisar (CÆsar, whence Czar) was the general title of the sovereigns of the Lower Empire, as Khusru was that of the Persian Kings of the Sassanian dynasty.

Page 36. “Prince Bihzad immediately arose, and hastened to the house of the Vizier, and said,” &c.—The following is a close translation of this passage as given in the lithographed text:

“You must go this moment and tell my father, Bihzad says thus: ‘Thou dost not turn thine eye upon me and hast not any care for me. There is no mortal in the world to whom a wife should not be given; if thou carest for me, you would bestow on me a help-mate.’” The Vizier replied: “Your order I obey;” then rose up and went to the King’s palace, asked for an audience, and reported to the King all that Bihzad had said. The King said: “Bihzad has fallen in love; say to him, ‘This wish is in my thoughts; but I have paused until I could discover some companion for thy sake; but if there be a longing for any one, speak out that I may give it my attention—that I may effect a settlement, and bring this thy desire within thy embrace.’”—The Vizier returned, and repeated to Bihzad what the King had said, to which Bihzad replied: “Go and tell my father that the Kaisar of Rum has a daughter, Nigarin^[47] by name; he must send ambassadors and demand the daughter on my behalf.” The Vizier returned and told the King, who became unhappy.

Page 37. “The Vizier returned to Bihzad, and delivered him this message from his father.”—The lithographed text says:

When Bihzad perceived that the King showed no eagerness in asking for the lady, he said to the Vizier: “If the King will not demand the daughter for me, I will leave the country.” The Vizier said: “I will go and speak to the King to that effect.” He went, and repeated according to Bihzad’s words. The King loved his son to excess, and seeing no resource, sent ambassadors to the Kaisar of Rum. When the ambassadors arrived at the capital of Rum, and the news reached the King, he commanded an istikbal, and that they should enter the city with all due honours and respect. The next day the Kaisar invited the ambassadors to a durbar. When they came before the King and had bowed their faces to the ground, they delivered the message of the Shah of Aleppo. The King said: “Maybe the wealth [dominion, power?] of the Kaisar does not enter into your [mind’s] eye;—you must be brief and laconic, and utter this reply: ‘One hundred lacs of dinars is the covenant of my daughter’s hand; whoever will give one hundred lacs of dinars, to him will I give my daughter.’ Thus he spake; then rising up, dismissed the ambassadors.”

Page 37. “One hundred lacs of dinars.”—The value of the dinar (originally din-ar, “brought into circulation by the law”) varied considerably at different periods, but the average value is about ten shillings. As a lac is one hundred thousand, and the Kaisar demanded a hundred lacs; taking the value of the dinar at ten shillings, this would amount to five million pounds of our money: but Oriental romancers are fond of dealing with immense sums of money—on paper! “The Persians,” says Chardin, “express silver money by the term dirhem, or dragme, and that of gold by that of dinar, or denier. They reckon by dinar-bisty and tomans, although they have not any pieces of money so called. There is the common dinar, and the legal dinar (or chemy) and the dinar-chemy signify the weight and the value of a dinar of gold, or of a gold crown. A bisty makes ten dinars, or deniers, and a toman ten thousand dinars.” (Voyage en Perse, &c., ii, 91–2.)

Page 38. “They produced twenty lacs.”—Bihzad said: “Make a forced contribution throughout the land, and [demand] one-eighth of the garden [produce].” The Padishah replied: “This I will never do, for the city is small and the people have not the means; every one would take flight and be ruined.” Bihzad said: “A portion of the sum [required] exact by a forced contribution; after that, about the remainder let us not concern ourselves” [lit. eat anxiety]. The Padishah was incapable [of further opposition]; he commanded that the land [owners] should make a present of twenty lacs of dinars.

Page 40. “Set out upon his journey.”—For what purpose? Surely not to go and demand the Kaisar’s daughter in marriage, without payment of the balance of the stipulated hundred lacs? Sir William Ouseley has omitted to add that loot was the object of Bihzad’s expedition. The text says that, with two confidential attendants Bihzad set out upon his journey, “until he should fall in with a caravan, and make up the total sum required.” The “good old rule” of our own famous Scottish freebooter Rob Roy—

was very commonly put into practice in former times by Arabian lovers in order to procure the dowry. Thus, in the Romance of `Antar, which Von Hammer says presents true pictures of Arabian life about the age of Nushirvan the Just, King of Persia (sixth century), Malik, the father of the beauteous Abla, requires `Antar to procure for her dowry a thousand Asafir camels by plundering the owner, Mundzir, King of Hira; and when Khalid demands his cousin Jaida in marriage of her father, the heroic damsel consents, on condition that he provide for slaughter at her wedding-feast a thousand camels belonging to the “Brandisher of Spears,” which he does by plundering the tribe of `Amir; and when Malik the perfidious father of Abla betrothes her to the Bedawi exquisite Amara (mentioned in a previous note), he collects a party of his followers and sets out on a looting expedition to procure her dowry.—Prince Bihzad, however, appears to have “caught a Tartar” in attacking the caravan which he and his comrades overtook—“in the morning,” according to our translation—“at the hour of mid-day prayer,” says the lithographed text. The old Arabs always made their attacks on the tents of a hostile tribe, and on caravans, in the early morning—on the first gray streaks of dawn appearing, and this is frequently alluded to in their poetry. Thus in the Mu`allaqa of Hareth: “They assembled their forces at night, and as soon as the dawn appeared, there was nothing heard among them but a tumultuous noise, of those who called and those who answered; the neighing of horses, and, among the rest, the lowing of camels.” In the Romance of `Antar, the heroic Prince Malik is represented as being slain in one of those morning raids, when his bridal party were attacked by Hadifa and his tribesmen: “by morning their joys were converted into sorrows, and shots were precipitated at them from arrows for which there is no surgeon.” To wish peace in the morning was therefore among the Arabs a most appropriate salutation. So `Antar, in his famous Mu`allaqa (verse 2), exclaims: “O bower of Abla, in the valley of Jiwa, give me tidings of my love! O bower of Abla, may the morning rise on thee with prosperity and health!” And Zuhayr, also author of a Mu`allaqa, on viewing the traces of his mistress’ former abode: “Hail, sweet bower! may thy morning be fair and auspicious!”

This story is the fourth in Cazotte’s version, in which it presents so few points of resemblance to the tale as given in the Persian work that we must conclude it has been thus altered by the Arabian translator. Bihzad is the son of King Cyrus, founder of the Syrian empire; and the beautiful lady with whom he falls in love from the description of her charms is the daughter of one of his father’s vassals. He avows his passion to the King his father, who immediately sends messengers to his vassal, demanding his daughter in marriage to his son. The dowry of three hundred thousand pieces of gold is agreed upon, but the lady’s father stipulates that the marriage should be delayed for the space of nine months. This seemed an eternity to the impatient Prince, so he mounts his best horse, and sets out to claim his bride at once. On the way he falls into the hands of a gang of robbers and is compelled to join them. They attack a caravan and are defeated, the Prince, among others, being taken prisoner. The merchants present Bihzad to their King, who recognises him from the description of his person in a circular letter which he had received from King Cyrus. This King despatches some troops along with Bihzad to the young lady’s father. On his arrival preparations are made for the celebration of the marriage: only three days have now to pass; but Bihzad, impatient to behold his bride, looks through a small grated window in her pavilion; and a eunuch, placed there on guard, not knowing the Prince, struck him with the point of his scimitar, which ran through both his eyes.

Notes on Chapter IV.

Page 45. According to the lithographed text: “The Fourth Vizier presented himself before the King and said: ‘Of all the admirable qualities [becoming] a King forbearance is the most praiseworthy, and occasions general tranquillity; but inasmuch as the forbearance [towards] Bakhtyar exceeds all bounds, it brings evil repute to the King and kingdom, just as the [moderate] tasting of meat is legitimate, but to eat to excess produces violent fever.’”

Page 45. “Let him not be precipitate in putting me to death.”—The text goes on to say: “For precipitation in the end leads only to repentance. Through impatience a man falls from sovereignty, but whoever practises patience obtains it, and is free from calamity. If the King would permit, just as his servant has described [the career of] the Impatient Bihzad, he would also, at the service of the King, make known Abu Saber’s patience, and thus shed light on the illumined mind of the King, [showing] how by patience extensive dominion accrues to a human being.” The King said: “Abu Saber, who was he? And practising what degree of patience, and in what manner, did he acquire dominion and sovereignty? Relate.”

Page 46. Abu Saber (Sabr), literally, “Father of Patience.”—This story offers a striking example of the practice of patience, a virtue enjoined by the Kur’an (ii, 148): “O true believers, beg assistance with patience (bi-’s-sabri) and prayer, for God is with the patient (inna-’llaha ma`a-’s-sabirin).”—Travellers in the East are daily reminded of this text: you engage camels; at the time appointed, they are not ready; you seek, and find the owner smoking in a coffee-shop; to your remonstrances he replies: “Have patience, Efendi—inna-’llaha ma`a-’s-sabirin.” An Egyptian friend visits you while you are still agitated, and his only words are: Sabr kun—inna-’llaha ma`a-’s-sabirin: Have patience—God is with the patient. In a flutter of indignation you bring your complaint before my Lord Judge (Mavlana Kazi), who summons and expostulates with the offender, and then, with a smile, assures you, inna-’llaha ma`a-’s-sabirin!—Persian authors are profuse in their praise of patience. Sa`di (Gulistan, i, 27) illustrates the double meaning of Sabr, which signifies the “aloe” as well as “patience:”

And in the same excellent work (iii, 1) he says: “The treasure chosen by Lukman was patience; without patience there is no such thing as wisdom.”

Page 46. “A tax-gatherer”—`Amil—is inferior to an Amin, who regulates the revenues of a district, and to a Zamin-dar, a landed proprietor.

Page 46. “Extorted (Kharaj) tribute from the poor peasants.”—Kharaj-guzar, “a tribute-paying subject,” differs from dhimi (zimmiy), who pays an annual tribute, and is entitled to the protection of the Muslims and to most of the civil rights which they enjoy; but he has also—in Egypt, at least—to pay the income-tax in common with Muslims. (See Lane’s Modern Egyptians.)

Page 46. “With cruelty and injustice,” &c.—“Most of the governors of provinces and districts,” says Lane (Modern Egypt.), “carry their oppression far beyond the limits to which they are authorised to proceed by the Pasha; and even the Shaikh of a village, in executing the commands of his superiors, abuses his lawful power: bribes and the ties of relationship and marriage influence him and them; and by lessening the oppression of some, who are more able to bear it, greatly increase that of others.” The peasants of Egypt only pay taxes after a severe bastinading: “the more easily the peasant pays, the more he is made to pay;” they are “proud of the stripes they receive for withholding their contributions; and are often heard to boast of the number of blows which were inflicted upon them before they would give up their money.... It may be hardly necessary to add, that few of them engage with assiduity in the labours of agriculture, unless compelled to do so by their superiors.”

Page 47. “He replied, that patience was his only remedy.”—The lithographed text thus proceeds:

The peasants retired void of hope, and remained [quiet] in the village until the day when the King of the territory came in that direction for the chase. The peasants hastened out of the village, and raised a cry [of lamentation], saying: “We are peasants, the tributaries and well-wishers of his Majesty. At the time when the collector, entering this village, executed his duties cruelly towards us, and had no mercy upon us poor people, a party of evil-doers slew the tax-gatherer and fled. This news reaching the ears of the King, he commanded the village to be laid waste, and we, the guiltless, were set aside. After this we were in misery and affliction, and could do but little seed-sowing and harvest. Three years afterwards a lion formed his lair in the neighbouring district of the village, and he killed many children and camels; and from dread of the lion we were unable to go out of doors, and were reduced to [a state of] starvation and nakedness.” Thus did they speak, and, with lamentations and groans, shed tears. Pity for them came over [the mind of] the King, who asked: “Why, at the time of the murder of the collector, did you not come before me, and represent your own state of affairs, and beg me to forbear from the command to lay your village waste?” The peasants replied: “In the village there is a man who is our chief; whatever affair we undertake, we confer with him, [that] he may devise the proper course [to pursue]. We told him of this state of affairs, and he was not one with us, and he did not think it advisable we should come into the presence of the King.” At these words the King became angry, and commanded they should expel this man from the village.

Page 48.—“Abu Saber recommended patience.”—According to the lithographed text: Have patience (sabr kun); since by patience that which was obscure becomes manifest, [even as] a lamp lights up [darkness].

Page 48. “She contrived to write upon the ground with blood.”—Of what service blood could be in tracing letters in the sand is not very obvious: the lithographed text simply says, that “when she perceived there was no remedy, she wrote on the ground: ‘A robber has carried me off!’”

Page 49. “Every stranger... was by his command seized and compelled to work,” &c.—No doubt many of the magnificent palaces and other edifices in Eastern countries, like the famous Pyramids near Cairo, were thus raised by forced labour. Muli Isma`il, emperor of Morocco, who died, after a long reign, in 1714, was a great lover of architecture and employed many people on his buildings; if he did not approve of the plan or the performance, it was usual for him to show the delicacy of his taste by demolishing the whole structure and putting to death all who had a hand in it.

Page 50. “Providence would relieve him from the oppression under which he suffered.”—Abu Saber said: “Be patient, since the Almighty (may He be honoured and glorified!) is a friend of the patient, and quickly will release thee from this oppression.”—Here, it will be observed, Abu Saber refers to the text from the Kur’an quoted in the third note to this chapter, as above, “God is with the patient.”

Page 51. “Supporting his head on the knees of patience, implored the protection of the Almighty.”—Abu Saber may be supposed to have assumed an attitude of prayer (reka), by an inclination of the body, so that the hands rested on the knees, saying (tawakkal bar Khuda), “put thy trust in God,” Kur’an xxxvii, 3; and recalling to mind: “whoso... persevereth with patience shall at length find relief.”—Kur’an xii, 90.

Page 51. “It was resolved that they should go to the prison, and propose three questions to the criminals confined there; and that whoever gave the best answers should be chosen King.”—This will probably strike most readers as a rather curious, not to say hap-hazard, mode of electing a King; yet it goes, I think, to prove the antiquity of the original story; and, moreover, if the “questions” were of such a subtle nature as to require superior sagacity for their solution, it may have been perhaps as good a way of choosing a sovereign as many that have been adopted either in ancient or modern times. The circumstance that the test-questions were proposed to prisoners may seem still more absurd; but the late King is represented as very tyrannical and impious, “one who did not fear God, an infidel;” and the chiefs of the city were doubtless aware that the prisoners were not really criminals, but the innocent victims of a wicked tyrant. It is very tantalising that neither in the lithographed text nor in those texts which Lescallier made use of for his French translation, nor in Sir William Ouseley’s, are the questions and Abu Saber’s answers given. One is naturally curious to know whether they were of the nature of ingenious riddles or subtle questions involving profound moral truths. The practice (apparently a very ancient one) of proposing to certain kinds of candidates and accused persons, riddles or “hard questions” to expound or answer is common to the popular fictions of Europe as well as of Asia. In more than one of the Arabian Tales a lady chooses for her husband him who answers her “questions.” In the Scottish ballad of “Roslin’s Daughter” the lady proposes a number of riddles or questions to her lover, which he must answer before she will “gang to his bed.” In Mr Ralston’s extremely entertaining and valuable Russian Folk-Tales, on the other hand, a Princess makes it her rule, that “any one whose riddles she cannot guess, him must she marry; but any one whose riddles she can guess, him she may put to death.” In Chapter 70 of Swan’s translation of the Gesta Romanorum, a collection of Latin stories, largely derived from Eastern sources, very popular in the Middle Ages, a King’s daughter vows that she will never marry except the man who answers three questions. In the old English version of the Gesta, edited by Sir Frederick Madden, Chapter 19, a certain good and righteous knight is falsely accused of some crime, and the Emperor gives him the option of answering six questions or forfeiting his life. The same story, with variations of local colouring, &c., is found in the 4th novel of Sacchetti, one of the early Italian novelists; in Tyl Eulenspiegel, the celebrated German folk-book; and in our old English ballad of “King John and the Abbot of Canterbury.” In an Indian work of fiction, said to have been written in the 7th century, Dasa Kumara Charita (Adventures of Ten Princes),^[48] Mitragupta meets with a terrible Rakshasa—a species of demon in human form—who threatens to devour him if he cannot answer four questions. These, with Mitragupta’s answers, are as follows: (1) What is cruel? Ans. A wicked woman’s heart. (2) What is most to the advantage of a householder? Ans. Good qualities in a wife. (3) What is love? Ans. Imagination. (4) What best accomplishes difficult things? Ans. Cunning. Mitragupta then relates four stories in illustration of his answers. In the Persian romance of Hatim Ta`i—the author of which has been greatly indebted to Hindu fiction for his materials—a young lady, named Husn Banu, makes it the condition of her bestowing her hand on any of her numerous suitors, that he shall answer seven questions—or rather, perform seven difficult and dangerous tasks in order to solve her questions.—In the 14th of Mr Ralston’s Tibetan Tales,^[49] the Dumb Cripple, who does not wish to succeed to the throne, is permitted to renounce the world on condition of his answering three questions.—And Voltaire, in his Zadig—imitating this feature of Oriental romance, as he did others—represents a contention for the throne of Babylon, first by a tournament, and finally by the champions attempting to solve a number of enigmas.

Whether it was ever a custom in any Eastern land to choose a King from among prisoners to whom certain difficult questions were proposed, is itself a “difficult question.” But it is remarkable that in legendary Indian stories, both those preserved in writing and by oral tradition, mention is frequently made of the election of a King by the elephant of the deceased monarch. For instance: in Sivandhi Sthala Purana, a legendary account of the famous temple at Trinchinopoli, of which a palm-leaf manuscript is described by Dr H. H. Wilson, in his Catalogue of the Mackenzie Collection, it is related that a certain King having mortally offended a holy Muni, his capital and all the inhabitants were, in consequence of an imprecation pronounced on him by the enraged saint, buried beneath a shower of dust. “Only the Queen escaped, and in her flight she was delivered of a male child. After some interval, the chiefs of the Chola kingdom, proceeding to elect a King, determined, by advice of the Muni [the same whose curse had worked the mischief aforesaid], to crown whomsoever the late monarch’s elephant should pitch upon. Being turned loose for that purpose, the elephant discovered and brought to Trisira-mali the child of his former master, who accordingly became the Chola King.”^[50]—And in the Manipuri Story of the Two Brothers, Turi and Basanta (translated by G. H. Damant, in the Indian Antiquary, 1875), Turi, in the course of his wanderings, is chosen King in a similar manner by an elephant, who meets the youth in the forest, takes him up, and brings him to the palace, where he is immediately set upon the throne.—A very singular custom in the election of a Khan seems to have been once observed by the Kalmuks, if we may credit the Relations of Ssidi KÜr,^[51] a Tartar version of the Sanskrit VetÁla Panchavinsati, or 25 Tales of a Demon: A sacred figure, of dough or paste, usually in the shape of a pyramid, called a baling, was thrown high into the air, and the person upon whose head it fell was proclaimed Khan.—Still more curious, and savouring somewhat of the supernatural;—in Mr Ralston’s Tibetan Tales, a king called Ananda, being attacked by illness, considered which of his five sons he should invest with the sovereign power. His four elder sons were rash, rude, and hot-tempered; his youngest, Prince Adarsamukha, was the most suitable; but Ananda’s kinsmen would probably reproach him should he pass over the elder sons, and give his crown to the youngest. Then said he to his ministers: “Give ear, O chieftains! After my death ye are to test each of the princes in turn. Him among them whom the jewel-shoes fit when they are tried on; under whom the throne remains steadfast when he is upon it; on whom the diadem rests unshaken when it is placed upon his head; whom the women recognise; and who guesses the six objects to be divined by his insight, namely: the inner treasure, the outer treasure, the inner and outer treasure, the treasure of the tree-top, the treasure of the hill-top, and the treasure of the river-shore: him by whom all these conditions are fulfilled shall ye invest with the sovereign power.” As is almost invariably the case in the folk-tales of all countries, the youngest son is the successful competitor.—In the good old times, when kings and chiefs were chosen for their physical strength and prowess in battle, one can see some propriety in rival candidates for the supreme power settling their claims by a hand-to-hand contest; but surely only in such countries as China and Japan could we conceive it possible for a dispute of this kind to be settled by proxy. Mr Mitford, in his Tales of Old Japan (vol. i, 203, 204), tells us: “In the year 858 the throne of Japan was wrestled for. The Emperor Buntoker had two sons, called KorÉshito and KorÉtaka, both of whom aspired to the throne. Their claims were decided in a wrestling match, in which one YoshirÔ was the champion of KorÉshito, and Natora the champion of KorÉtaka. Natora having been defeated, KorÉshito ascended his father’s throne, under the style of Siewa.”

Page 52. “The robber he immediately recognised, but was silent.”—In keeping with the Persian saying: sina pur jush o lab khamush, “troubled breast and silent lip.”

Page 52. “We are freeborn, we are the sons of a Mussulman—Slaves, among the Muslims, are either captives in war (saqaya) or by purchase (mavalat).” One of the fundamental points of the Muhammadan religion consists in the ransom of slaves: “Alms should buy the freedom of slaves”—Kuran ix, 60.

Page 53. “The merchant’s money to be deposited in the public treasury.”—This, if correctly rendered, would have been an act of gross injustice, not at all in accordance with the character of Abu Saber; since the merchant had been guilty of nothing unlawful in purchasing the boys, whom he did not know were freeborn and the sons of a Muslim. The lithographed text says: “He sent the robber to prison, and re-imbursed the merchant from the public treasury;”—and Lescallier (p. 96): “Il ordonna au voleur de restituer au marchand l’argent qu’il en avait reÇu, et le fit arrÊter et jeter en prison.”

Page 53. “Because she wore a veil (sitr).”—Muslim women are prescribed by their religion to conceal from all men whatever may be attractive in their appearance, and the men are not permitted to see any unveiled women save their wives, or slaves, and those women with whom they are prohibited by law from marrying—see Kur’an xxiv, 31. “The curse of God,” said the Prophet, “is on the seer and the seen.” Lane, in his Modern Egyptians, gives a very minute description, with numerous engravings, of the veils worn by Muslim women, and remarks that “the veil is of very remote antiquity”—see Genesis xxiv, 65, and Isaiah iii, 23.

Page 53. “Would not consent to perform the duties of a wife.”—When a wife disobeys her husband’s lawful commands, he may take her (or two Muslim witnesses) before the Kazi. Should the complaint preferred be just and proved, a certificate is written, declaring her nashiza, rebellious, and the husband is then quite free from the obligation of lodging, clothing, and maintaining her.

Page 53. “This man was not her husband.”—The 4th sura of the Kur’an (v. 20 et seq.) treats of lawful and unlawful marriages. “Ye are all forbidden to take to wife free women who are married” (v. 22); that is, says Sale, whether they be Muslim women or not, unless they be legally divorced from their husbands.—This incident, if the story be fictitious (but it probably had some foundation in fact), is very ingeniously conceived: Abu Saber’s happiness is rendered complete by the recovery of his wife, with such a credential of her purity!

The Arabian version of this story, according to Cazotte’s French rendering (and Habicht’s German translation agrees with it in this respect), gives a very different account of the circumstances of Abu Saber’s elevation to the supreme power. Abu Saber, it seems, had been cast by the wicked King into a deep, dry well in the palace-yard. Now it happened that this impious and cruel King “had a brother whom he had always concealed from every eye, in a secret part of the palace; but suspicion and uneasiness made him afraid lest he should one day be carried off and placed upon the throne. Some time before he had privately let him down into this well. This unhappy victim of politics soon sank under so many distresses: he died; but this event was not known, although the other parts of the secret had transpired. The grandees of the realm, and the whole nation, shocked at a capricious cruelty which exposed them all to the same danger, rose, with one accord, against the tyrant, and assassinated him. The adventure of Abu Saber had been long since forgotten. One of the officers of the palace reported that the King went every day to carry bread to a man who was in the well, and to converse with him.^[52] This idea led their thoughts to the brother who had been so cruelly used by the tyrant. They ran to the well, went down into it, and found there Abu Saber, whom they took for the presumptive heir to the crown. Without giving him time to speak, or to make himself known, they conducted him to a bath; and he was soon clothed in the royal purple, and placed upon the throne.”

Notes on Chapter V.

Page 56. “The King of Yemen.”—As the Kings of Egypt were named Pharaoh, those of the Sassanian dynasty of Persia, Khusru, those of Abyssinia, Negashi, so were the Kings of Yemen distinguished by the title of Tobba, from being the paramount sovereign of a number of tribes or followers (tabi`in). Some of the ancient Kings, having considerably enlarged their dominions by conquest, became proverbial for great power.

Yemen (or Arabia Felix) in the time of Strabo was divided into five kingdoms (l. 16, p. 112), and has been successively subdued by the Abyssinians, the Persians, the Sultans of Egypt, and the Turks.—On the west Yemen has the Red Sea; on the south the Straits of Babu-’l-Mandab and the Indian Ocean; on the east Hadramaut, and the north Nejed and the Hijaz. The inhabitants plume themselves on their country being “the birth-place of the sciences and religion” (Biladu-’l-`Ulm o Biladu-’d-Din).—Niebuhr, par. ii, p. 247.

Page 56. “A certain slave named Abraha.”—Influenced, probably, by a malevolent feeling towards the Mushriks (those who attribute partners to God—Christians), the Muslim author—or, more likely, translator and adapter—gives the name of Abraha to an Ethiopian slave, disparaging, as it were, the historical fame of Abraha Ebnu-’s-Saba, the 46th King of Yemen, surnamed Sahibu-’l-Fil (Lord of the Elephant), an Ethiopian by birth, and of the Christian religion, who in paynim times built a magnificent church in the citadel of Grandam, at Sanaa, with the design of inducing pilgrims to resort thither, instead of to the Ka`ba at Mecca. (See Kur’an cv, and Sale’s note.)

Page 56. “The arrow cut off one of his ears.”—According to Lescallier, only a piece of his ear.

Page 56. “The King’s first impulse,” &c.—In Lescallier’s French rendering this passage is to the following effect: “The King of Yemen at once ordered that Abraha should be seized and beheaded. Abraha said to the King: ‘Your Majesty knows that I am not blamable in this unfortunate affair; I shot the arrow intending to wound the deer. If you pardon me this time, you, in your turn, will be pardoned when you sin.’ The King of Yemen, having heard these words, received him favourably, pardoned him, and cancelled the order which he had given. Abraha was overjoyed at this, and they re-entered the town together.”

Page 57. “They then returned to the city”—i.e. Sanaa in Yemen, so called to distinguish it from another Sanaa, a village of Damascus, anciently called Azal, from its founder. The city is supposed to have acquired its name from the Ethiopians, who conquered the country, and on beholding its beauty, exclaimed: “This is Sana!” which in Ethiopic means, “commodious,” “comfortable.”—At an elevation of 4000 feet above the sea-level, near the source of the river Shab, it is celebrated for its trees and waters, and compared by `Abu-’l-Feda to Damascus. The city is walled, as also the suburb, Biru-’l-Azab. At present it is a large mercantile town, the residence of an Imam. A handsome bridge is thrown over the principal street, down which flows a stream of water, and all the private dwellings of the higher classes have glass windows, beautifully stained, and are furnished with fountains. At the eastern and western extremities is a castle, having each a palace, built of hewn stone, covered with gray-coloured plaster. Situated in the heart of the coffee country, the principal trade is in that useful berry, which is rarely used for home consumption, the common beverage being keshr, an infusion of the husk. About twenty mosques, elaborately decorated, and with gilt domes, adorn the city; and the public baths, numerous and good, are the favourite resort of the merchants, who meet to discuss the state of trade, and to listen to the news of the day, over a cup of keshr and the indispensable hukka.

Page 57. “Was driven on the coast of Zangibar (or Zanzibar).”—Probably the ancient island of Menuthias, southward of the Sea of Babu-’l-Mandab. This is the island of the “Zonuj” mentioned in the Arabian Nights, and they are also called “zinj” “zenj”—an Ethiopian nation of the country known to us as Zangibar. (See Lane’s 1001 Nights: “Abu Muhammad the Lazy,” chap. xiv, text, p. 413, note 5.)—Zengi signifies “black,” and bar, country or territory: Zangibar, “the country of blacks.”

Page 57. The reader can hardly fail to observe very considerable indistinctness (to say the least) in the narrative of the incidents which immediately follow the return of the King of Yemen and his slave Abraha to the capital. We are told, “they then returned to the city; and after some time had elapsed, having gone on board a vessel,” &c.; from which it may be naturally supposed that Abraha and the King were still in company, although no mention is made of Abraha when the vessel went to pieces. He turns up, however, very oddly, at page 59: “It happened that Abraha, who had been the King of Yemen’s slave, was standing near this wall, but his former master did not recognise him, as they had been separated for some time, Abraha having found means to return to Zangibar, his native country.” These last words, in italics, seem to represent a passage, which the translator has strangely omitted in its proper place, explaining the cause of the King of Yemen’s undertaking a voyage by sea. The following is a translation of the events which occurred after “they returned to the city” (p. 57), according to the lithographed text:

A few days having elapsed, the King continued to be satisfied with Abraha.—To return to the story.^[53] Ever since Abraha had been absent from his father, messengers had been despatched in every direction, and they had pursued [to] such [an extent] research and inquiry, that it became known to them that Abraha was in Yemen, and in the service of the King. The Shah of Zangibar was overjoyed, and took counsel of the Vizier, saying, “What is the prudent plan [or proper policy—tadbir] in this affair?” The Vizier replied: “If the report should reach the King of Yemen that he [Abraha] is the son of the Shah of Zangibar, the affair would be difficult.” In a word, this conversation resulted in this resolve, that they should send an intelligent person to bring back Abraha. This individual having turned his face towards Yemen, arrived in the capital. He employed considerable exertions in search of Abraha. When he happened to meet with him, and the Khoja^[54] explained the cause of his coming to Yemen, they both agreed to sally forth at once from the city; and as soon as they were outside they set their faces in the direction of Zangibar. Abraha had arrived only a short time near his father, when the King of Yemen was informed of the departure of Abraha, and he became morosely pensive, and could take no rest. One day he commanded they should equip vessels, [as] he wished to pass over the sea for the purpose of being free from anxiety [or, of enjoying social intercourse]. When he was aboard the ship, and at some distance from land, a hurricane sprang up suddenly, and shivered the vessel to pieces. A portion of a plank was thrown against the King of Yemen. Six days and nights he floated over the surface of the sea, until he was cast ashore on the territory of Zangistan;^[55] [certain] pearl-divers saw him; they approached near him; they spoke a few words to him; he gave no response—he was senseless. They sprinkled over his throat [and neck] a quantity of oil of balsam; he opened his eyes, and his speech came back to him. He asked them: “What territory is this?” The divers replied: “This territory is Zangistan.” He then asked: “How far is it to the capital?” They answered: “Four parasangs.”^[56] The King of Yemen proceeded onwards, until the hour of evening prayer, when he entered the city.

Manuscripts of the Bakhtyar Nama vary so much in detail that probably no two are exactly the same. Those used by M. Lescallier would appear to have been more diffuse than the lithographed text of 1839. According to his rendering, after the King of Zangibar’s messenger had been some time in Yemen, “he chose a fitting occasion and place to see Abraha, and converse with him. He spoke to him of his country, of his father, and of the love which he had for his dear son, like that which Jacob bore to his beloved son, Joseph.^[57] Abraha, hearing news of his country and his father, felt his sensibility re-awaken; his eyes shed gentle tears, like the showers of spring, and he spoke these words, interrupted by sobs: ‘Whence come you, my dear sir? How and for what purpose are you arrived in this country?’ The messenger then confided to him the secret reason of his journey,^[58] undertaken for the sole purpose of bringing him back to his father. Abraha asked him urgently to take him away from that town. The messenger, who was a very intelligent and clever man, took his measures and time so well that he carried off Abraha, and made him start with him for that capital, and they arrived without accident at Zangibar. As soon as they were near the outskirts of the capital of Zangibar, the King, being informed of the arrival of his son, sent some people to meet him, and caused him to be escorted with pomp, and he received him with demonstrations of the greatest joy.”

According to M. Cazotte’s rendering (King Bohetzad, &c.) of this story, under the rather misleading title of “Baharkan, or the Intemperate Man,” Abraha was not a slave but an officer, and his name was Tirkan. “He was,” we read, “a young prince who had fled from his father’s court in order to escape the punishment of a fault which he had committed. After having wandered unknown from country to country, he at length settled at the Court of King Baharkan, where he obtained employment. He still remained there some time after the accident which had befallen him [to wit, the accident to the King’s ear]. But his father, having discovered the place of his retreat, sent him his pardon, and conjured him to return to him. He did this in such affectionate and paternal terms that Tirkan, trusting in his father’s goodness, immediately departed. His hopes were not deceived, and he was re-established in all his rights.” The sequel agrees for the most part with that of the Persian text; only we are told that the King’s object in going over sea was pearl-fishing for amusement.

Page 57. “Sheltered himself under the shade (sayaban) of a merchant’s house.”—Sayaban, a canopy; an umbrella; a shade formed by foliage, or any other projection. Against the front of shops in Eastern countries is a raised bench, or rather a stone or brick platform (mastaba), two feet from the ground, upon which the tradesman sits, and a little above it is a covering (sakifat) of matting; and sometimes planks supported by beams, affording shelter and shade. (See Lane’s Modern Egyptians, vol. ii, pp. 9, 10.)

Page 58. “He was sent to prison”—Lescallier’s rendering adds, “where he passed his time praising God, and submitting to His will.”

Page 59. “He gave public audience to persons of all ranks” khass o `amin—noble and plebeian.

Page 59. “If I succeed in hitting that crow (properly, raven),” &c.—The superstitious belief in divination from the flight, motions, and positions of birds (ez-zijr, el-iyafa), which prevailed so much among the Arabs at the time when the Prophet began his great mission, although it is denounced by the Kur’an, prevails even now in the East, where the raven is called the “Father of Omens” (Abu-Zajir), and the “Bird of Separation” (ghurabi-’l-bain); its appearance betokening a change of circumstances, which for the King of Yemen denoted liberty from a state of slavery. According to an author cited by Bochart (Hier. i, p. 20), Noah sent forth from the ark a raven, to observe whether the water had abated, and it did not return, hence it is called “the bird of separation.” In the Gulistan, iv, 12, an execrable voice is compared to the croak of the Raven of Separation, or, as some render the passage, “the raven of ill omen” (see Lane’s Arabic Lexicon, vol. i). Ravens in many countries have been considered as birds of ill omen. Thus, in Dryden’s Virgil:

and in Gay’s Fables (xxxvii, 27, 28):

Page 59. “The law of retaliation, which would not award a head for an ear.”—In accordance with the text of the Kur’an, v, 49: “We have therein commanded them that they should give life for life, and eye for eye, and ear for ear, and tooth for tooth; and that wounds should also be punished by retaliation,” &c. (compare Exod. xxi, 24; Levit. xxiv, 20; Deut. xix, 21). For unintentional mutilation the Muhammadan law permits the payment of half the price of blood, as for homicide; for a member of which there are two, from the rich man 500 dinars (£250), from the less opulent 6000 direms (£150). The delinquent in the present instance, being penniless, the King of Zangibar had no choice but to exact “ear for ear.” (Sale’s Kur’an, Prel. Disc., sec. vi; Mills’ History of Muhammedanism, ed. 1817, pp. 319, 320.)

Notes on Chapter VI.

Page 62. “Represented the danger of letting an enemy live when in one’s power.”—This unmerciful suggestion^[59] ill accords with the humane precept of Hushung, an early King of Persia, surnamed Pishdad (the First Distributor of Justice), and dictated by him to Tahmuras, the heir apparent: “The sovereign extends the skirt of pardon and the robe of clemency over those who have erred;... acting according to this injunction: When thou hast prevailed over thy foe, pardon him, in gratitude for the power obtained over him. ‘Bind him,’ says the poet, ‘with the chains of forgiveness, that he may become your slave.’”

Page 62. “Advised him not to be precipitate.”—With more eloquence does a falsely accused lady plead to her husband in the Anvar-i Suhaili (p. 243 of Eastwick’s translation): “The wise think deliberation requisite in all affairs, especially in shedding blood, since if it be necessary to take life, the opportunity of doing so is left; and if—which God forbid!—they should, through precipitation, put an innocent person to death, and it should afterwards be known that he did not deserve to be slain, the remedy would be beyond the circle of possibility, and the punishment thereof would hang to all eternity on the neck of the guilty party.” And elsewhere in the same charming work we are told that “the heart of a King ought to be like the billowy sea, so as not to be discoloured by the dirt and rubbish of calumny; and the centre of his clemency should be like the stately mountain, firm in a position of stability, so that the furious wind of anger cannot move it.”

Page 62. King Dadin, or Dadiyan—a title formerly given to the Persian Kings of the first, or Pishdadian, dynasty, and in a later age assumed also by the Princes of Mingrelia. (Chardin, vol. i, p. 82.)

Page 62. Kardar signifies busy, a money lender, a prime minister, and is a compound of kar, work, occupation, and dar, possessing, lord, master.—Kamgar is composed of kam, desire, wish, and gar, a particle which, subjoined to a word, denotes agency.

Page 63. “Having reason to believe her father would not consent to bestow her on him.”—The text runs thus: “He said to himself, ‘Kamgar is an ascetic (zahid) and a religious man (parsa), and would not give me his daughter.’”

Page 64. “Begged permission to inform his daughter”—the text adds, “and, in conformity with the law of Muhammad (shari`at), obtain her consent.”—This is a proof that the lady had attained marriageable age, as the consent of a girl not arrived at the age of puberty is not required.

Page 64. “Related to her all that had passed.”—The text: “The daughter said, ‘I am not worthy of the King; besides, once in the King’s service, I cannot [devote myself to the] worship [of] God the Most High; and for the least fault the King would punish me.’”

Page 65. “Sent her to his palace (saray-harem), and appointed servants—besides a cook.” Here there is a very remarkable difference between Ouseley’s and the lithographed texts, and between these again and Lescallier and Habicht. This is what the lithographed text says: “And in the service i.e. [of the late vizier Kamgar] there was a good man (khayyir) who had acted as a spiritual guide (buzurg), whom the King did not admit in the harem. This holy person, who had been constantly at the side of the daughter, wrote a letter [to this effect]: ‘Do thou confirm the reward of service, and speak to the King about my wish [in order] that he may admit me into thy service, [seeing] that I should perish from disappointment.’ ... (the King gave his consent)... and the daughter continued her devotions in peace and tranquillity.” Thus, in place of a cook, as in our version, the lithographed text has, more appropriately, a holy man: but in Lescallier and in Habicht, this person is, strange to say, a jester, or merry-andrew—bouffon—lustigmacher!—while in Cazotte’s rendering of the Arabic version, and in the Turki version of this story (a translation of which is appended to the present notes), he is simply described as a slave.

Page 66. Discovered her sitting alone on the balcony (balkhana), viz. a latticed window on the upper storey of the harem—hence our word “balcony.”

Page 66. “Kardar, fearing lest she should relate to the King what had passed,” &c.—Although many Oriental stories—Indian, Persian, Arabian—are designed to show the malice and craft of women, there are yet some, and the present tale is an example, in which men, when foiled in their attempts upon the chastity of women, are exhibited as equally adroit and unscrupulous. Another instance occurs in the Anvar-iSuhaili, ii, 10, where a beautiful and virtuous wife is described in verses which are also applicable to the Vizier’s daughter of our story:

This lady’s husband had a slave, who cast the eye of desire upon her, and “when he despaired of success, as is the wont of evil men, he determined to assail her reputation, and employ a stratagem to secure her disgrace.” So he buys two parrots, and teaches them to say that the lady had been unfaithful to her husband; but he fails in his diabolical scheme.

Page 67. “He addressed her with the usual salutation, which she returned.”—That is: Es-salamu `alaykum, “Peace be on you!” to which she replied: `Alaykum es-salam. But the lady devotee would probably “salute with a better salutation,” in accordance with the Kur’an, iv, 88: “When ye are saluted with a salutation, salute the person with a better salutation, or at least, return the same.” “A better salutation”—that is, by adding rahmatu-`llahi wa barakatuh, “and the mercy of God and His blessings!” In saluting a co-religionist, this addition is obligatory.

Page 67. “It was a maxim of the wise men: When you have killed the serpent, you should also kill its young.”—Can this “maxim” have been borrowed from Sa`di, who says (Gulistan, i, 4): “To extinguish a fire and leave the embers, or to kill a viper and preserve its young, is not the act of wise men?” If so, this work, in its present form, must have been composed after the 13th century.

Page 68. “Ordered the unfortunate cook to be instantly cut in two.”—A horrible mode of putting a culprit to death, and peculiar, it is said, to the criminal law of Persia.

Page 69. “Being dissuaded by an attendant from killing a woman.”—The Persians seldom put women to death, as the shedding of their blood is supposed to bring misfortune on the country. But when found guilty and condemned, the injunction prescribed by the law, of another man’s wife never being seen unveiled, is strictly respected, by conducting the culprit, enveloped in the veil habitually worn by her, to the summit of a lofty tower, and throwing her thence headlong.

Page 68. “Was turned into the dreary wilderness.”—In Indian Fairy Tales daughters who offend their fathers are frequently sent into the desert. For instance, in the Romance of the Four Dervishes (the Hindu version, Bagh o Bahar), a king has seven daughters, and one day he impiously tells them that all their good fortune depends upon his life. Six of them profess to agree with him in this sentiment; but the seventh, and youngest, who has more sense and judgment than the others, dissents, saying that the destinies of every one are with oneself. The king, on hearing this, became angry. The reply displeased him highly, and he said in wrath: “What great words issue from a little mouth! Now let this be your punishment, that you strip off whatever jewels she has on her hands and feet, and let her be placed in a litter and set down in a wilderness, where no human traces are found; then shall we see what is written in her destinies.” She is accordingly carried into the desert, where she offers up fervent prayers to Heaven, and falls asleep. In this way, praying and sleeping, she passed three days without food or water, until on the fourth day a hermit appears, who relieves her wants, and, to be brief, she discovers a hidden treasure, causes a magnificent palace to be erected, and sends for her parents and sisters, who are naturally confounded at her good fortune. In like manner, Husn Banu, in the Romance of Hatim Ta`i, having justly accused a Dervish, who was a favourite of the King, of robbing her house, is expelled from the city, and in the desert she discovers, through a dream, the hidden treasure of the Seven Regions, underneath a tree.

Page 68. “Resigned herself to the will of Providence, conscious of her own innocence.”—The text states that she said this prayer: “O God! Creator! thou knowest I am innocent; if Thou hast foreordained^[60] that I should die, vouchsafe at least a little water [inflow] in my mouth, that my tongue may testify to thine incomparable unity.” The text also says that when the fountain of water sprang up, she “performed the ablution” (prescribed by the Kur’an), and “stood up in prayer.” This seems to imply that she turned her face towards the Kibla (that is, Mecca), and went through the different postures of prayer.—See Lane’s Modern Egyptians, chapter iii.

Page 69. “The camel placed himself so as to afford her a shade from the sunbeams.”—Although our author was, no doubt, a pious believer in this miracle, including the part that was played in it by the camel, yet it can only appear ludicrous to Europeans, and those who have had the good fortune to read, either in the original Telugu, or in Babington’s translation, the Adventures of the Guru Paramartan, will probably be reminded by this of the story of the Guru, who, having hired an ox to ride upon, reposed under the shade of the animal during the heat of the day, and the owner demanded additional pay, alleging that he did not lend his ox as an umbrella against the sun’s rays. The case was referred to the head-man of a village, who, after relating a somewhat similar case within his own experience, decided as follows: “For journeying hither on the ox, the proper hire is money; and for remaining in the ox’s shadow, the shadow of the hire-money is sufficient.”^[61]

Page 69. “It happened that one of the King’s camel-keepers,” &c.—According to the text, “had lost a katar of camels,” that is, several linked together, and following one another.

Page 69. “At his request she prayed for the recovery of the camels.”—The text says: “The daughter, having raised her face towards heaven, said, ‘O God! Creator! thou knowest that these camels are not his own, and that he is a hired labourer (muzdar), but now is without resource and afflicted, through thy loving kindness and bounty, [be pleased to] restore to him the camels.’” Muhammadans often implore the intercession of saints (and the cameleer, of course, believed the lady to be nothing short of a saint), both living and dead, on their behalf. To be worthy of the dignity of a true saint requires self-denial, mortification, a perfect reliance on Providence, and the keeping aloof from the habitations of men; above all, that, while professing the unity of God (la ilaha illa-’llah), no living creature should see their lips move. Lane, in a note to his translation of the Thousand and One Nights (ch. xi, n. 37) states that “the Sayyida Nafisa, the great-grandaughter of the Imam El-Hasan, was a very celebrated saint; and many miracles are related to have been performed by her. Her tomb, which is greatly venerated, is in a mosque in the southern suburb of Cairo.”

Page 70. “He would provide for her a retired apartment,” &c.—The text reads: “I will prepare an oratory (sawma`a), and make ready for thy sake the means (asbab: furniture) for devotion (asbab-i-`ibada);” such as a prayer-carpet (sajjada), having a mark upon it pointing towards Mecca, the Kibla of Muslims, or point to which they direct their faces in saying their prayers, as Jerusalem is that of the Jews and Christians: within the mosque it is shown by a niche, and is called El-Mihrab. The hypocritical saint is thus described by Sa`di (Gulistan ii, 17):

There should also be a fountain of running water (for ceremonial ablution) and a copy of the Kur’an.

Page 70. “Arrived at the city at the time of evening prayer.”—It is incumbent on every good Muslim (says Dr Forbes, in a note to his translation of Bagh o Bahar) to pray five times in the 24 hours. The stated periods are rather capriciously settled: (1) The morning prayer is to be repeated between daybreak and sunrise; (2) The prayer of noon, when the sun shows a sensible declination from the meridian; (3) afternoon prayer, when the sun is so near the horizon that the shadow of a perpendicular object is twice its length; (4) evening prayer, between sunset and close on twilight; (5) the prayer of night, any time during darkness.

Page 71. “She begged that he would conceal himself in the apartment whilst she should converse with Kardar.”—This, it seems to me, is quite after the manner of a modern European play or novel—when the “villain” is made to unmask himself, by a pious ruse of “injured innocence.” I cannot call to mind a similar scene in any other Eastern romance which I have read.

Page 72. “Concealed behind the hangings” (see also p. 67, line 8 from foot).—The use of hangings, pictured tapestry, and various coloured carpets has been from the earliest ages prevalent in the East. We read in the Book of Esther, chapter i, &c., of the magnificence of a Persian monarch, who made a feast unto his nobles of Persia and Media, and in his palace had hangings, white, green, and red, fastened with purple cords to silver rings, with beds of gold and silver; and Plutarch, in Themistocles, speaks of the rich Persian carpets, with highly-coloured figures; and in his life of Cato the Censor, he mentions some Babylonian tapestry sent to Rome as a present. The manufacture passed in very early times from Asia into Greece, part of which, indeed, was itself Asiatic. Iris found Helen employed on figured tapestry, and the web of Penelope is sufficiently known (Iliad iii).—Sir William Ouseley’s Persian Miscellanies.

This story of King Dadin and his Two Viziers is, perhaps, the best of the whole series; and it will doubtless interest the general reader to see a Turki version of it, according to a unique manuscript, preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, written, in 1434, in the Uygur language and characters,^[62] of which mention is made in the Second Section of the Introduction. M. Jaubert, who wrote an account of this manuscript in the Journal Asiatique, tom. x, 1827, remarks, that, “apart from the interest which the writing and phraseology of the work might possess for those who study the history of languages, it is rather curious for the history of manners to see how a Tatar translator sets to work to bring within the range of his readers stories embellished in the original with descriptions and images familiar, doubtless, to a learned and refined nation like the Persians, but foreign to shepherds.” The following rendering of M. Jaubert’s translation of the Turki version of “King Dadin and his Two Viziers” is, I believe, the first that has yet appeared in English.

HISTORY OF THE FIFTH DAY.

One of the Vezirs advanced and said: “O King! command that they put this slave to death, for all the people murmur, indignant at his crime, and we ourselves are grieved at such a rumour.” Then the King commanded, and they made Bakhtyar approach, and he said to him: “Slave, wherefore madest thou that attempt? Of a truth I will not spare thee this day.” Bakhtyar replied: “O King, I am innocent, and I look from the Divine pity that thou deliver me from these bonds, in like manner as the guiltless bride of the King Dadin was delivered from hers.” The King said: “What befell that woman?”

There was in Tataristan (answered Bakhtyar), a King who had a beautiful wife and two Vezirs.^[63] One of these Vezirs was called Kerdar, the other Kardan.^[64] Kerdar was father of a maiden of beauty so perfect that one could not find in the whole world anything to vie with it; and she was so pious that not only did she recite the Kur’an all day, but she passed the nights in prayer. Impressed by the greatness of her devotion, King Dadin became enamoured of this maiden without having seen her, and he demanded her of her father in marriage, and he promised to advise her. He did so, but she replied: “Passing my life in prayer, I cannot agree to become a great lady, and my ambition is limited to the service of God.” The Vezir reported these words to the King, who, in the greatness of his anger, put him to death. Then he caused the maiden to be brought to the palace, and he said to her: “I desire to raise thee to the dignity of a princess; during the day thou shalt pray to God here, during the night thou shalt serve me.” Just then there arrived a courier, bearing important letters. The King ordered the maiden to pray for him; he confided the care of his city to his Vezir Kardan; and having mounted his horse, with a party of his nobles, went forth.

One day, when the Vezir was repeating his prayers, his eyes fell upon the maiden. Dazzled by the splendour of her beauty, he became suddenly enamoured of her, and approached her and said: “O maiden, I am enamoured of thee; if thou fearest God have pity on my sufferings and reward my love!” The lady replied: “The King, in his trust, has left thee in his house, and thou seekest to make me betray him! Take heed that thou commit not this evil deed;—suffer not thyself to be taken in the snares of Satan for a woman, and think not that all of my sex are in nature alike. I pardon thee thy sin—beware of rushing on thy ruin.” When the Vezir heard these words he perceived that he could not succeed in his design. Then he repented of his conduct, and said within himself: “If the King learns of this event, he will kill me; so let me invent some stratagem which will bring about the maiden’s ruin instead of mine.”

Now the Vezir, father of the lady, had brought from his native country a slave who had been brought up with her, and in whose company she was accustomed to live.^[65] When the King had finished his campaign, and returned [to his capital], he called the Vezir before him, and asked of all that had happened during his absence, and particularly about the lady. The Vezir said: “O King! I have something to say, and yet I dare not.” “Speak,” replied the King: “I know that thou art a good and faithful minister, and that thou canst not betray the truth.” Then the Vezir replied: “Some one told me that a slave, brought from his native country by the father of that maiden, had had guilty connection with her. At first I regarded this imputation as a slander. ‘What is that?’ said I to myself. ‘The King loves that lady, so that with her the sorrows of this world seem light to him. Besides, if the fault had been committed, there would be witnesses—the thing cannot be.’ One day, however, an [other] individual sought me out, to bring me to see what was being done by the favourite of the King. I went, I listened, I recognised the maiden’s voice, and that of the slave. She was saying to him: ‘In thus dishonouring me as thou hast done, thou hast put me in danger of perishing like my father, whose death I [involuntarily] caused. I must be thy portion.’ The slave replied: ‘But what is thy intention concerning the King?’ The maiden answered: ‘He must be killed by means of some stratagem; if we work well together we shall succeed in our design. Take thou measures concerning the King;—kill him, for he has slain my father unjustly, and I am bound to take vengeance.’ When I heard these words,” continued the Vezir, “I felt my body tremble. The reality of the fact was made clear to me, as it was to the person who had informed me. Now it is yours, O King, to know what ought to be done.”

When the King heard this story he was very angry. He caused the slave’s head to be cut off. He called the maiden before him, and asked what words she had used, and cruelly reproached her, for that, after being overwhelmed with honours, she had dared to conceive so guilty a design. She replied: “O King, deign to give full trust to my words, and if thou fearest God, slay me not on the report of my most cruel enemies.” But far from believing her sincerity, the King ordered his favourite to be put to death. Happily, this Prince had a faithful slave, who showed to him how the murder of a woman were a shameful deed; that it was enough to have killed her accomplice; that it were better to banish that unhappy woman to some wilderness far from the dwellings of man, where she must inevitably perish; and that at least by refraining from staining his hands with her blood, he should be doing an action pleasing to God. So the King ordered an old woman to mount the maiden upon a camel, to take her to a lonely desert and leave her there, and this was forthwith done. And so that hapless one was left in the wilderness, with no other aid than the Divine compassion.

This desert lay on the boundaries of the realms of the King of Persia, one of whose cameleers^[66] had lost a camel. He was seeking it vainly on every side, when suddenly he perceived a beautiful lady praying to God. Fearing to disturb her, the cameleer waited till she had finished her prayers, when he went up to her, saluted her, and asked her who she was. “I am,” said she, “a poor, weak handmaid of God.” “Who has brought thee here?” continued the cameleer. She replied: “God.” Then the cameleer said within himself: “This lady is indeed favoured with the grace of the Most High.” He said to her: “I am in the service of the King of Persia; if thou desirest, I shall marry thee, and have for thee the greatest regard.” “I cannot consent thereto,” replied she; “but for the love of God, lead me to some inhabited spot, where I may find water, and I will remember thee in my prayers.” The cameleer complied with her request; he mounted the maiden upon his camel, led her to a village, confided her to the care of the head-man of the village till he should return; and set out in quest of the camel he had lost, which he immediately found—a good fortune which he attributed to the maiden’s prayers.

He gave thanks therefor to God, and returned to the King of Persia, to whom he spoke of the maiden’s beauty, piety, and of all the perfections with which she was adorned. “Such a lady,” said the King, “would suit well to be my wife.” Thereupon he mounted his horse, and with a great number of his servants proceeded to the village. When he saw the lady he was filled with admiration, and he said to her: “Maiden, I am the King of Persia; be my bride, and I will care for thee with the greatest of care.” “O King!” replied she, “may the Divine favour increase thy prosperity! Thou possessest a great number of women; and as for me, I have no need of a husband; for the love of God appears to me more desirable than the whole world.” And she continued her prayers. Then the King gave orders that his tents should be erected in that spot, and that they should cut there channels of running water; and he remained there some days. At the end of that time, moved by the sweet words and piety of the maiden, but hurried by the affairs of state, he mounted her in a litter, led her to his capital, gave her apartments in his own kiosk, and having ordered preparations for a brilliant nuptial feast, he married her. After that he gave her great riches, beautiful clothes, many servants, and a splendid palace. One night this lady related her adventures to the King of Persia; and on the morrow that prince assembled a vast army, set out, and took prisoner the King Dadin, the Vezir Kardan, and also the faithful servant to whom the lady owed her life. She called King Dadin before her, and said to him: “Though I was innocent and true, thou sentest me into a desert to die; but God has had compassion upon me, and has brought thee hither to me, loaded with chains.” Then addressing the Vezir Kardan, she said: “How is it that thou hast allowed thyself to be taken in the snare which thou didst prepare for me?” The Vezir replied: “O maiden! thou wast not guilty, and all that I said was a lie; therefore hath God punished me!” “Praise be to Him!” replied the lady, “for He has granted that I should live, and that people should know my innocence! For the rest, I desire that they who slew my father should receive their due reward.” So the King of Persia ordered the Vezir to be taken to the same desert whither the maiden had been sent. There he died of hunger and thirst. King Dadin was beheaded as a punishment for the murder he had committed; and his dominions were given to the faithful servant [whose good advice aided the safety, the innocence, and the triumph of virtue].

Page 72. “Your Majesty can easily put to death a living man, but you cannot restore a dead man to life.”—Here again (see note on page 184) we have what seems to be an instance of borrowing from Sa`di, who, in his Gulistan, viii, maxim 54, thus finely expresses this sentiment (Professor Eastwick’s translation):

Were it possible, we might suppose that our English poet Cowley had simply paraphrased these couplets of Sa`di in the following verses:

Page 74. “Women, for their own purposes, often devise falsehoods, and are very expert in artifice and fraud.”—It was a saying of Muhammad that “women are deficient in judgment and religion,” which induces their co-religionists of the other sex to believe that they are more inclined than men to practise whatever is unlawful. When woman was created, the Devil, we are told, was delighted, and said: “Thou art half of my host, and thou art the depositary of my secret, and thou art my arrow, with which I shoot, and miss not.”^[68] The Turkish Tales of the Forty Viziers (another romance of the Sindibad cycle—see Introduction) chiefly refer to the craft and malice of women. In the present story, however, female artifice is not employed for wicked ends.

Page 74. “The King of `Irak.”—There are two `Iraks; one is a division of Arabia to the south of the Tigris and the Euphrates. Towards the north-east it is watered by the branches of the Euphrates, and is consequently fertile and well inhabited, having many cities and towns, of which Basra is the principal; to the south-west it is a barren desert. By Orientals it is called `Irak `Arabi, to distinguish it from the other `Irak, (`Irak `Ajami) a province of Persia, bounded on the north by Ghilan and Mazinderan, on the east by Khurasan, on the south by Farsistan, and on the west by `Irak `Arabi. This province contains part of ancient Media and Parthia. It is nearly a hundred and fifty leagues in length, and one hundred and twenty in breadth; partly mountainous and sterile, having vast sandy plains; but the greater part fruitful and populous. Isfahan is the capital.<sup>[69]</sup> It is of Persian `Irak that the poet Nizami thus speaks:

Page 74. Abyssinia, or Habashat (that is, “a mixture,” or “confusion”), forms an extensive country of Eastern Africa, the boundaries of which are not well defined. The natives call their country Manghesta Ityopia, or Kingdom of Ethiopia.

Page 75. “When they disclosed the object of their mission, he became angry”—at the presumption of an unbeliever (who attributed partners to God) asking in marriage the daughter of one of the faithful. The conversion of Abyssinia to Christianity was prior to the fourth and continued even as late as the twelfth century. The Coptic patriarch of Cairo is still the nominal head of the Church, but the episcopal office is confined to the Abuna, the resident head, and author, of the Abyssinian priesthood.—Gibbon.

Page 76. “Caused so much money to be distributed among the soldiers that they were satisfied.”—So says Sa`di, Gulistan i, 14 (Eastwick’s translation):

Page 77. “The King of `Irak had some years previously given his daughter in marriage to another man, by whom she had a son.”—This concealment of a former marriage is incomprehensible. Lescallier’s French rendering, made from other Persian texts, gives a different account of this affair: “She had had previously a lover, with whom, unknown to her father, she had intimate relations, and had given birth to a beautiful boy, whose education she secretly confided to some trusty servants.” Afterwards the Princess of `Irak contrived to introduce him to her father, who was so charmed with his beauty, grace of manner, and varied accomplishments, that he at once took him into his service. Habicht’s Breslau edition of the Arabian version agrees with Lescallier on this point. In the version of this story in the Tuti Nama (Tales of a Parrot) of Nakshabi,^[70] the lady is the daughter of the Emperor of Rum (see Note, p. 158), and, as in our text, had a son by a former marriage, about whose existence her father charges her not to say a word to her second husband.

Page 78. “The name of the boy was Farrukh-zad”—that is, “fortunately-born”; from farrukh, happy, fortunate, and zad, born.

Page 81. “An old woman beheld the Queen, as she sat alone, weeping.”—In Eastern fiction old women—and especially hypocritical devotees—are useful go-betweens for lovers, and excellent, prudent procuresses. In the present case, however, the old woman plays an unusual rÔle: employing her sage experience and skill in reconciling husband and wife.

Page 82. “I have a certain talisman,” &c.—The word talism is not in the lithographed text; the sentence is to this effect: “I have that which is precious, and possesses the same magical power as the precious things of Solomon, written in Greek characters and in the Syrian language”—which means, Syrian words disguised under the letters of the Greek alphabet. Among the Arabs and Persians it is a common belief that Solomon, the son of David, by virtue of a seal-ring (Muhr-i-Sulaymani) sent down from heaven, had unlimited control over the good and evil spirits (jinn), and over birds, the winds, and beasts.^[71]

The origin of Solomon’s magical signet-ring, which is so often mentioned in Oriental poetry and romance, according to Muslim legends—borrowed or adapted from the Talmudic writers—is as follows: Eight angels appeared to Solomon in a vision, saying that Allah had sent them to surrender to him the power over them and the eight winds at their command. The most exalted of the angels presented him with a jewel with this inscription: To Allah belong greatness and might. Whenever he raised the stone towards heaven, they would appear and do his bidding. Next four others appeared, differing from each other in form and name. One resembled an immense whale, another an eagle, the third a lion, and the fourth a serpent. These were lords of all creatures living in the earth and in the water. The angel representing the kingdom of birds gave him a jewel on which was inscribed: All created things praise the Lord. An angel then appeared, whose upper part looked like the earth, and the lower like water, having power over both earth and sea, and gave him a jewel with the inscription: Heaven and Earth are servants of Allah. A third angel surrendered to him power over the kingdom of spirits, with a jewel on which was inscribed: There is no God but one, and Muhammad is His Messenger.^[72] Solomon caused the four jewels to be set in a signet-ring, and the first purpose to which he applied its wondrous powers was the subjugation of the demons and jinn—all but the mighty Sakhr, who was concealed in an unknown island of the ocean, and Iblis (Satan), the monster of all evil spirits, to whom God had promised the most perfect independence till the Day of Judgment.^[73] In Oriental fictions the most solemn and binding oath with Fairies is to swear by the Seal of Solomon. Readers familiar with the Arabian Nights will recollect the Story of the Fisherman and the Genie (jinni). A confidence in the virtue of Talismans, whether for the protection of persons, treasures, or cities, may be traced up to the earliest ages, when so many Eastern nations were of the Sabean faith, and adored the “host of heaven,” or the celestial bodies; and notwithstanding the change of religion and the prohibition of magic, even Muhammadans can reconcile to their consciences the preparation of certain amulets, after rules transmitted through the Chaldeans and Nabatheans.^[74] The magic of Babylon is frequently alluded to by Muslim writers; the poets speak of the “Babylonian witchery” of a beautiful woman’s eyes; and it is believed that the two wicked angels Harut and Marut, mentioned in the Kur’an (see chap. ii, and Sale’s note), are still hanging, head downwards, in a well at Babel, and will instruct any one in magic who is bold enough to go and solicit them. Setting idle legends aside, it is highly probable, as Sir William Ouseley remarks, in his Persian Miscellanies, that at Babylon the Persians learnt the arts of magical incantation from the conquered Chaldeans. “Time,” says Dr Jonathan Scott, “has not eradicated in Asia belief in the magical powers of cabalistical characters engraven on gems, or embroidered on standards, or written upon small rolls of paper, which, enclosed in small boxes of gold and silver, and strung on silken cord, are worn round the arm or wrist, and sometimes as a pendant from the neck.”^[75] The charms to which the greatest efficacy is ascribed are those consisting of passages of the Kur’an; and Morier tells that such was Muhammad Riza Bey’s faith in this species of talisman that he always wore the whole of the Kur’an about his person; half of it tied on one arm, and half on the other, rolled up in small silver cases.^[76] Next in estimation as potent charms are passages transcribed from the celebrated Burda (or Mantle-Poem) of El-Busiri, in praise of the Prophet, written in the 13th century; which are framed and suspended on the walls of rooms, or, in cases, on the person. The whole poem is also recited in times of sickness and during the funeral procession.^[77]

Page 83. “Scrawled on it some unmeaning characters.”—The word in the text here rendered by “unmeaning” literally signifies “not known,” and should be translated “mysterious.”

Page 84. “Desired him to point out the spot where his body lay,” &c.—ziyarat, a visit, a pilgrimage. During the period of the great festivals, and also on other occasions, it is customary to visit the tomb of a relation, and place on it the leaves or broken branches of the palm-tree, also sweet-basil and other flowers. On arriving at the tomb the opening chapter of the Kur’an, and sometimes a longer chapter, the xxxvi, is recited.—See Lane’s Modern Egyptians, ii, pp. 209, 241, 253.

Notes on Chapter VIII.

Page 86. “Government resembles a tree, the root of which is legal punishment”—siyazat, that is, discretional punishment, such as the law has not provided, but may be inflicted.—The lithographed text thus proceeds: “And its extremity [i.e. of the root] is justice, and its bough, mercy, and its flower, wisdom, and its leaf, liberality, and its fruit, a degree of kindness, and the leaf of every tree, of which the root becomes dry, assumes a yellow [tint], and does not produce fruit. And as the root of government is legal punishment, delay on this point is not permissible; and as in this legal punishment there is postponement, I am apprehensive lest the root of the tree has become dry; after which reparation is impossible.”

Page 87. “In case she should give birth to a boy, to call his name Bihruz”—an appropriate name for a jeweller’s son, since it denotes “a species of blue crystal,” as well as “good day.” The lithographed text adds: “If it should be a daughter, give her a name suitable and proper;” alluding to the privilege accorded to a mother of naming her own daughter; the name of a son is given by the father.

Page 88. “The boys had learned to read the Kur’an” (properly, as I have spelt it in the translation, Qur’an).—Muslim children are not only taught to read the whole, but commit to memory portions, of the Kur’an. After learning by heart the first chapter^[78]—which is to the Muslim what the Lord’s Prayer is to the Christian—the remaining chapters are learnt in their inverse order, and those who have learnt to repeat the whole of the Kur’an may then claim the title of Hafiz, or Hafizu kalami ’llah, “rememberer of the Word of God,” or “one who knows God’s Word by heart.”—“Much merit,” says Torrens, “is attributed by the Muslims to recitations of the Kur’an. On occasions of festivity persons are hired to repeat either the whole or the principal parts of it. These are fickees, a term usually applied to schoolmasters by modern Arabs, but signifying, ‘a person learned in the law.’ They know by heart the whole, or particular parts, of the Kur’an, which each in turn recites. These recitations are introduced among the Egyptians as an entertainment at parties.”^[79]

Page 88. “Were instructed in the art of penmanship.”—“Beautiful writing,” says Sir John Malcolm, “is considered as a high accomplishment. It is carefully taught in schools, and those who excel in it are almost classed with literary men. They are employed to transcribe copies of books, and some have attained such an eminence in this art that a few lines written by one of these celebrated penmen are often sold for a considerable sum. I have known seven pounds to have been given for four lines written by Dervish Musjid, a famous Persian scribe.”^[80] And a story is told of a celebrated Indian penman, in the course of his walks one day, being solicited for alms by a beggar, “Money,” he replied, “I have not;” but taking his pen and ink from his girdle, he wrote a few words on a small slip of paper, and handed it to the poor man, who received it with expressions of gratitude, and sold it to the first wealthy person he met for a gold mohur—about ten shillings.

Page 88. “And other accomplishments”: adab, that is, “good manners;” a decent and becoming behaviour at meals, a proper degree of respect to be shown to the father, greeting him affectionately in the morning by kissing his hand, and—as a well-bred son seldom sits in his father’s presence—standing before him in a submissive attitude (Lane). Reverence for parents, which is still a marked characteristic of Eastern races, has ever been strongly inculcated by the Hebrew Rabbins; and the noble conduct of one Dama, the son of Nethuna, towards both his father and mother is adduced in the Talmud as an example for all times and every condition of life. “His mother was unfortunately insane, and would frequently not only abuse him, but strike him, in the presence of his companions; yet would this dutiful son not suffer an ill word to escape his lips, and all he used to say on such occasions was, ‘Enough, dear mother, enough.’ One of the precious stones attached to the High Priest’s sacerdotal garments was once, by some means or other, lost. Learning that the son of Nethuna had one like it, the priests went to him, and offered him a very large price for it. He consented to take the sum offered, and went into the adjoining room to fetch the jewel. On entering the room he found his father asleep, his foot resting on the chest wherein the gem was deposited. Without disturbing his father, he went back to the priests, and told them that he must for the present forego the large profit he might make, as his father was asleep. The case being urgent, and the priests, thinking that he only said so to obtain a larger price, offered him more money. ‘No,’ said he, ‘I would not, even for a moment, disturb my father’s rest for all the treasures in the world.’ The priests waited till the father awoke, when Dama brought them the jewel. They then presented to him the sum they had last offered, but the good man refused to take it. ‘I will not,’ said he, ‘barter for gold the satisfaction of having done my duty. Give me what you offered at first, and I shall be satisfied.’ This they did, and left him with a blessing.”

Page 89. “His clothes and money concealed in different places”—the words here printed in italics are not in the lithographed text.

Page 90. “With afflicted bosoms and bleeding hearts”—ba dil-i kabab, wa sina-i kharab, a jingle of words, of which Orientals are very fond, as previously noticed, foot-note, p. 128.

Page 91. “I accept it as a favourable omen.”—Muslims are always on the watch for lucky or unlucky omens. On first going out of a morning, the looks and countenances of those who cross their path are scrutinised, and a frown or a smile is deemed favourable or the reverse. To encounter a person blind of the left eye, or with one eye, forebodes sorrow and calamity. While Sir John Malcolm was in Persia, as British Ambassador, he was told the following amusing story: When `Abbas the Great was hunting, he met, one morning as the day dawned an uncommonly ugly man, at the sight of whom his horse started. Being nearly dismounted, and deeming it a bad omen, he called out in a rage to have his head struck off. The poor peasant, whom they had seized and were on the point of executing, prayed that he might be informed of his crime. “Your crime,” said the King, “is your unlucky countenance, which is the first object I saw this morning, and which has nearly caused me to fall from my horse.” “Alas!” said the man, “by this reckoning, what term must I apply to your Majesty’s countenance, which was the first object my eyes met this morning, and which is to cause my death?” The King smiled at the wit of the reply, ordered the man to be released, and gave him a present instead of taking off his head.^[81] Another Persian story to the same purpose: A man said to his servant, “If you see two crows together early in the morning, apprise me of it, that I may also behold them, as it will be a good omen, whereby I shall pass the whole day pleasantly.”^[82] The servant did happen to see two crows sitting in one place, and informed his master; but when he came he saw only one, the other having in the meantime flown away. He was very angry, and began to beat the servant, when a friend sent him a present of choice viands. Upon this the servant exclaimed: “O my lord, you saw only one crow, and have received a fine present: had you seen two, you would have met with my fare.”^[83] The old pagan Arabs never set out upon any important expedition before consulting their fortune, either by divining arrows or by the flight of birds; if a bird flew to the right, it was a good omen, but if to the left, they would postpone their intended enterprise. In allusion to this superstition the celebrated poet Baha ’u-’d Din Zuhayr, of Egypt, says:

Page 91. “Heir to the crown.”—Bihruz, no doubt, on being raised to the throne, assumed another name, or the imperial title.

Page 92. “Purchased a young boy at the slave-market.”—Repellent as even the name of slavery is to a European, and especially to a Briton, it must not be supposed that the condition of slaves in Muhammadan countries bears any resemblance to that of the slaves in the Southern States of North America, before their emancipation, with which such works as Uncle Tom’s Cabin used to harrow up our souls. On the contrary, Muslims are enjoined by their religion to be, and, as a general rule, really are (all things considered), kind and even indulgent to their slaves. Sir John Malcolm (an excellent authority) remarks: “Slaves are not numerous [in Persia], and cannot be distinguished by any peculiar habits or usages from the other classes, further than that they are generally more trusted and more favoured by their superiors. The name of slave in this country may be said to imply confidence on one part and attachment on the other. They are mostly Georgians or Africans; and being obtained or purchased when young, they are usually brought up in the Muhammadan religion. Their master, who takes the merit of their conversion, appropriates the females to his own harem, or to the service of his wives; and when the males are at a proper age, he marries them to female slaves in the family, or to free women. Their children are brought up in the house, and have a rank only below relations. In almost every family of consequence the person in whom the greatest trust is reposed is a house-born slave; and instances of their betraying their charge, or abusing the confidence that is placed in them, are very rare.”^[84] A curious story is related in the Talmud, of a man making his will in favour of his slave, although he had a son whom he loved fondly. This man, residing at some distance from Jerusalem, had sent his son to the Holy City to “complete his education” (to employ an absurd colloquial phrase for the nonce); and dying during his son’s absence, he bequeathed his entire estate to one of his slaves, on the condition that he should allow his son to select any one article which pleased him for an inheritance. Surprised and naturally angry at such gross injustice on the part of his father, in preferring a slave for his heir instead of himself, the young man sought counsel of his preceptor, who, after carefully considering the terms of the will, thus explained its meaning and effect: “By this action thy father has simply secured thy inheritance to thee. To prevent his slaves from plundering the estate before thou couldst formally claim it, he left it to one of them, who, believing himself to be the owner, would take good care of the property. Now, what a slave possesses belongs to his master; choose, therefore, the slave for thy portion, and then possess all that was thy father’s.” The young man followed this advice, took possession of the slave, and thus of his father’s wealth, and then gave the slave his freedom, together with a considerable sum of money.^[85]—“The manners of Asia,” says Richardson, “seem in all ages to have pointed to domestic slavery; and Muhammad, in Arabia, made that an article of religion which had anciently been only a custom. The captives of war were, in consequence, with few exceptions, constantly reduced to a state of servitude; and little distinction seems in general to have been made between a princess and her slave; excepting what she derived from a superiority of personal accomplishments. These ideas the Arabians entertained amidst their extensive conquests. Many instances might be given, but two will suffice, as they were daughters of the two greatest princes in the world. In an action after the siege of Damascus, in A.D. 635, amongst other prisoners was the daughter of Heraclius, emperor of Greece, and widow of the governor of that city. Rasi, the Arabian commander, to whose lot she fell, presented her without ceremony as a slave to Jonas, a Grecian, who had embraced the Muhammadan religion; but Jonas, from a principle of honour, returned her, with all her jewels, unransomed to her father. When the Arabians conquered Persia, Shirin Banu, the daughter of the King Yazdejird, was one of the captives, and was publicly exposed to sale in the city of Madina; but the liberal-minded `Ali thought differently from his countrymen on this occasion; he declared that the offspring of princes ought not to be sold, and married her immediately to his son.”<sup>[86]</sup>—The lot of women in Arabia before the time of Muhammad was at the best a hard one, and it certainly underwent no improvement when they happened to be taken captive in any of the frequent tribal wars. (The brutal treatment of the beauteous Abla, in the Romance of `Antar, when she fell into the hands of the chief of a tribe hostile to that of `Abs, is doubtless a faithful picture of Arabian life in those times.) And there can be no question that the cruel and unnatural practice which prevailed among the pre-Islamite Arabs of burying alive their new-born female children had its origin in a desire to save them from the hardships they were so likely to encounter when grown up. This practice seems to have been at one time common to most of the nations of antiquity.

Page 93. “Several of the soldiers returned.”—They probably came to report to the King that the enemy were in superior force, and that more troops must be despatched to oppose them.

Page 94. “Day was beginning to dawn.” The text adds: “He performed the morning-prayer (namaz-i saba), at the time when [teaches the Kur’an] ‘you can plainly distinguish a white thread from a black thread.’” The Persians, who are shi`a (unorthodox), prefer to “distinguish a white horse from a gray horse.”

Page 94. “Say, King, shall I strike or not?”—It was customary, if I am not mistaken, at the courts of some of the Khalifs or other Eastern monarchs, for the executioner, after being ordered to decapitate a culprit, to ask the King three times: “Shall I strike?”

Page 95. “It was the will of Heaven that they should fall into the sea, where one of them perished, but the other was restored to us.”—The unhappy couple could not bring themselves to confess that the father had with his own hand tossed them into the water. There is something in this that bears a resemblance to the answer of Joseph’s brethren when they went down to Egypt to buy corn, and were arrested on suspicion of being spies: “Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Canaan; and behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one is not.” (Gen. xlii, 13.)

Page 96. “Set at liberty all those who had been confined with him.”—To the point is the following extract from the Times newspaper, of September 23, 1882, p. 8, col. 2: “The coronation of Czars is always signalised by acts of imperial clemency, and in this respect the ukase of Alexander II, on the 7th of September, 1856, remains honourable. It granted a complete amnesty to all the political offenders of 1825–6, and of the Polish rebellion of 1831, who were still in exile, or in prison; also pardons to Press offenders, military defaulters, and to about five thousand other individuals in gaols.”

Notes on Chapter IX.

Page 97. “The history of Abu Temam, and the envy of the envious.”—The Muslim, in his daily prayers, says: “I fly for refuge unto the Lord of the Daybreak; that He may deliver me from the mischief of the envious, when he envieth.”—Kur`an cxiii. 5.

Page 97. Abu Temam.—Abu—literally, “Father”—has often the sense of “endowed with,” or “possessed of,” and forms the figure called “metonymy.” Thus, Abu Bakr, “father of the maid”—Muhammad’s father-in-law and successor; Abu Hurayrat, “father of the kitten,” one of Muhammad’s companions, so nicknamed by the Prophet, on account of his having a pet cat.—Abu Temam signifies, “possessed of integrity.”

Page 98. “Any one possessed of above five direms”—equivalent to “any one who had a sixpence.”—It is related of Muli Isma`il, Emperor of Morocco (who died in 1714), that when any of his subjects grew rich, in order to keep him from being dangerous to the state, he used to send for his goods and chattels. His governors of towns and provinces formed themselves on the example of their dread monarch, practised rapine, violence, extortion, and all the art of despotic government, that they might the better send him their yearly presents: for the greatest of his viceroys was in danger of being recalled or hanged if he did not remit the bulk of his plunder to his sovereign. That he might make a right use of these treasures, he took care to bury them under ground, by the hands of his most trusty slaves, and then cut their throats, as the most effectual method of securing secrecy. The following story will illustrate his notions of property: Being upon the road, amidst his life-guards, a little before the Ram feast, he met one of his kazis at the head of his servants, who were driving a great flock of sheep to market. The Emperor asked whose they were. The kazi, with a profound submission, answered: “They are mine, O Isma`il, son of El-Sherif.” “Thine! thou wretch!” exclaimed Muli Isma`il; “I thought I had been the only proprietor in this country.” Upon which he ran him through the body with his lance, and piously distributed the sheep among his guards for the celebration of the feast. His determination of justice between man and man will evince the blessings of his administration: A kazi complaining to him of a wife (whom he had received from his Majesty’s hands, and therefore could not divorce her), that she used to pull him by the beard, the Emperor ordered his beard to be plucked out by the roots, that he might not be liable to any more such affronts. A farmer, having accused some of his guards of having robbed him of a drove of oxen, the Emperor shot the offenders; but afterwards demanding reparation of the accuser for the loss of so many brave fellows, and finding him insolent, he compounded the matter with him by taking away his life.—One good thing he was celebrated for in the course of his long reign, the clearing of the roads of robbers, with which they used to be infested; but his method was to flay man, woman, and child that lived within a certain distance of the district where a robbery was committed.

Page 99. “The erection of bridges, caravanserais, and mosques.”—It is doubtful whether “caravanserais” be the correct rendering of the word ribat. It may denote one of the dome-shaped buildings (kubba), having an oratory annexed, and an institution endowed for the maintenance of students (taliban-i-`ilm), who are to pass their lives in reading and devotion.—Sa`di, in his Bustan, b. i, says: “No one hath come into the world for continuance, save him who leaveth behind him a good name; nor hath any one died who hath left as an inheritance a bridge, a mosque, a hostel, or an hospital. Whoever hath left no such memorial behind him, his existence has been but that of a tree which never bore fruit; and whoever hath departed and left no mark, his name after his death will never be lauded.” The “erection of mosques” may remind the reader of a passage in Hamlet, iii, 2: “There’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive his life half a year; but, by’r Lady, he must build churches then.”

Page 99. “His advice was followed in all matters of importance.”—The text says: “he appointed him Grand Vizier” (wazir-i a`zam).

Page 99. “This King had Ten Viziers, who conceived a mortal hatred against Abu Temam,” &c.—See Note, pp. 137–9.—So too in Norse and other European Folk-Tales, envious courtiers endeavour to ruin or destroy a King’s favourite by inciting the monarch to set him to perform some difficult and dangerous exploit, in which, however, he always succeeds.

Page 100. “Princess of Turkistan.”—Turan, Turkomania (or Transoxiana), is the country which lies beyond the Jihun, or Oxus. Under the names of Iran and Turan the Eastern historians comprehend all the higher Asia, excepting India and China; and sometimes they imply “the whole world.” The Tatar nations in general have fine countenances, with large black eyes. Of all the towns in Turkistan, Chighil is the most famous for handsome men, expert archers, and beautiful maidens:

Page 100. “When the King heard the extravagant praises of her beauty he became enamoured.”—See Note pp. 157–8.

Page 101. “When the King of Turkistan heard of Abu Temam’s arrival, he sent proper officers to receive and compliment him.”—See third note, p. 131.—In Lescallier’s version the interview between the King and Abu Temam is related in more detail, to the following effect:

Abu Temam, after presenting his credentials and paying his respects to the King, informed him of the subject of his embassy. “The request which the King your master makes for my daughter,” said the King of Turkistan, “is for me a source of joy and happiness. But as it is to be feared that my daughter is unworthy of the King your master, I desire you to enter my harem to see her and to hear her speak, and to assure yourself if she is capable of pleasing the sovereign who sends you. I will prepare my daughter to receive you.” Abu Temam, who was full of cleverness and discretion, replied to the King with the greatest politeness: “God forbid, your Majesty, that my eyes should behold the Princess, or my ears should dare to hear her voice! If she were not in all respects worthy of the King my master, the Divine will would not have inspired him with the desire of possessing her, nor enslaved his heart to her perfections. My King did not send me with such instructions.” Abu Temam had no sooner spoken these words than the King of Turkistan clasped him in his arms with affection, and cried: “I regard thee as a father, for thou freest my existence from a great burthen.” “O great King!” replied Abu Temam, “since my happy star made me enter the service of my sovereign, I have never experienced anything save benefits, kindness, and peculiar favours. What is the difficulty that I can solve for your Majesty? Let him command me.” “I was even now,” said the King, “busy with the project of thy death, and thou hast happily escaped the severity of my sharp sword. I shall tell thee the motive which urged me to put thee to death, and how thou hast been delivered from that danger. All the ambassadors who have come from different princes to ask my daughter have received the same proposal which I made to thee, to enter my harem, to judge of the beauty and perfections of the Princess; and they all went in. I regarded the prudence and wisdom of these sovereigns according to those of their ambassadors, and to punish their audacity I put them all to death. This year four hundred ambassadors have been beheaded. I preserve their heads in the room which thou wilt see.” Then the King drew from his girdle a key, with which he opened the door of that room, and showed to Abu Temam the four hundred heads of ambassadors. He afterwards added: “The prudence which thou hast shown has saved thy life. It has given me a good opinion of thy sovereign, and I will grant him my daughter.”

Lescallier’s texts were probably in error in stating that the four hundred ambassadors had all been put to death within a year. The lithographed text, like that of Sir William Ouseley, gives us to understand that the envoys had been beheaded in the course of years. In Habicht’s Arabian text the King is represented as saying: “‘Come and look into this well;’ and Abu Temam beheld a well filled with the heads of the sons of Adam.”

Page 103. “The Ten Viziers finding... their own importance and dignity reduced,” &c.—How true to human nature, and how applicable to the case of Abu Temam as well as to that of our young hero Bakhtyar, is the “saying of the sage,” as cited in the Anvar-i Suhaili (ii, 3): “Whoever is unceasingly zealous in the service of the King quickly reaches the rank of admission to his favour, and whoever has become the intimate of the Sultan, all the friends and foes of the monarch become his enemies: the friends, through envy of his post and dignity; and the foes, by reason of his advising the King sincerely in matters of state and religion.”

Page 103. “Whose office was to rub the King’s feet.”—The Arabs (says Lane) are very fond of having their feet, and especially the soles, slowly rubbed with the hand; and this operation, which is one of the services commonly required of a wife or a female slave, is a usual mode of waking a person; as it is also of lulling a person to sleep. Thus, in the story of Maaroof (Lane’s Arabian Nights, iii, 721), “the damsel then proceeded to rub and press gently the soles of his feet until sleep overcame him.”

Page 105. “The King drew his scimitar, and cut off his head.”—Surely, an instance of “haste and precipitancy”—with a vengeance! This despot did not even acquaint his victim of the crime of which the lads had accused him. It had been probably otherwise with Abu Temam had his royal master shaped his conduct in “affairs of moment” after that of another king, of whom we read, in the Anvar-i Suhaili (xiii, 3), that in order to moderate his anger, and judge cases like a king, a recluse gave him three letters, which he was to place in the hands of a faithful and confidential officer, who was to be permitted to read one of them to the King when he beheld symptoms of anger in his countenance, and should that not suffice to soothe his mind, the officer was to read the second letter, and the third, if the second did not tame his rebellious spirit. The contents of the three letters were to this effect: (1) While thou still retainest the power, do not place the reins of choice in the grasp of thy passions, for they will plunge thee into the whirlpool of everlasting destruction. (2) In the time of wrath be merciful to those in thy power, in order that in the hour of retribution thy superiors may be merciful to thee. (3) In issuing thy commands do not overstep the bounds of the law, and under no circumstances abandon what is just.

Page 106. “Their houses levelled with the ground.”—When a city was solemnly destroyed by the Romans, the plough was drawn along where the walls had stood. Thus Horace (Ode i, 16): “Rage has been the final cause... that an insolent army has driven the hostile ploughshare over their walls.” Thus also we read in the sacred writings (Micah iii, 12): “Therefore shall Zion for your sake be ploughed as a field;” and likewise of salt being sown on the ground where cities stood (see Judges ix, 45), indicating the last insult of a triumphant enemy. In allusion to the usual practice of absolute Eastern monarchs wreaking their vengeance not only on an offending minister, but also on his wife and family, Sa`di, in his Bustan, b. i, directs a king, in dealing with a criminal, to slay him, if the law pronounce its decree; “but if thou hast those who belong to his family, them forgive, and extend to them thy mercy: the iniquitous man it was who committed the crime;—what was the offence of his helpless wife and children?”

In Cazotte’s rendering of this story, under the corrupted title of Abou Talmant, for a King of Turkistan is substituted a King of Cochin-China. The plot for destroying the prudent minister by means of the prattle of two young slaves in the King’s hearing is considerably amplified: the malicious viziers having taught them to repeat some harem gossip while the King was reposing, but not asleep, which, proving to be true, prepared him to believe the false story of the Queen’s love for Abu Temam. The King’s discovery of his favourite’s innocence is differently related;—instead of his overhearing the two pages quarrel over the division of the money, a day or two after Abu Temam had been put to death, as in the Persian version—the King immediately returns to his private chamber, and seeing the pieces of gold scattered on the floor, sends for the pages, and compels them to tell the truth regarding their possession of so much money. He then causes the two Viziers to be beheaded.

Notes on Chapter X.

Page 107. The King of Persia (Shah `Ajam).—The term `Ajam includes all who cannot speak Arabic, or who do not speak it with elegance. Among the Arabs it applies to all people not of Arab descent, and carries the same idea as Barbarians with the Greeks, Gentiles with the Hebrews. Hence Persia is called `Ajamistan, the land of the stranger, or barbarian. And so two famous Arabian poems are distinguished respectively by the nationalities of their authors: Lamiyyatu-’l-`Arab, by the Arabian brigand-poet ShanfarÁ, and Lamiyyatu-’l-`Ajam, by Et Tugra`i, a native of Isfahan: that is, the L-Poem (from its rhyming in lam, or L) of the Arab, and the L-Poem of the Foreigner.

Page 108. “Not having any child,” &c.—The desire of offspring, and especially of male children, seems to have always been very strong among Asiatics of all classes, and by Jews the want of children was considered sufficient ground for divorce, as the following beautiful rabbinical story will show: A man, it is related, brought his wife before Rabbi Simon, expressing his desire to be divorced, since he had been married over ten years without being blessed with children. The Rabbi at first endeavoured to dissuade the man from his purpose, but finding him resolute, he gravely addressed the pair thus: “My children, when you were married did ye not make a feast and entertain your friends? Well, since you are determined to be divorced, do likewise: go home, make a feast, entertain your friends, and on the following day come to me and I will comply with your wishes.” They returned home, and, in accordance with the good Rabbi’s advice, the husband caused a splendid feast to be prepared, to which were invited their friends and relations. In the course of the entertainment, the husband, being gladdened with wine, said to his wife: “My beloved, we have lived many happy years together; it is only the want of children that makes me wish for a separation. To convince thee, however, that I still love thee, I give thee leave to take with thee out of my house whatever thou likest best.” “Be it so,” answered his wife. The wine-cup was freely plied by the guests, and all became merry, until at length many had fallen asleep, and amongst these was the master of the house, which his wife perceiving, she caused him to be carried to her father’s house and put to bed. Having slept off the effects of his carouse, he awoke, and, finding himself in a strange house, exclaimed: “Where am I?—how came I here?” His wife, who had placed herself behind a curtain to await the issue of her little stratagem, came up to him, and told him that he had no cause for alarm, since he was in her father’s house. “In thy father’s house!” echoed the astonished husband—“how should I come hither?” “I will soon explain, my dear husband. Didst thou not tell me last night that I might take out of thy house whatever I most valued? Now, my beloved, believe me, amongst all thy treasures there is none I value so much as I do thyself.” The sequel may be readily imagined: overcome by such devotion, the husband affectionately embraced his wife, was reconciled to her, and they lived happily together ever afterwards.^[88]—Throughout the East, indeed, the want of children is considered as a great disgrace. Readers of Oriental romances, such as those contained in Elf Layla wa Layla, or The Thousand and One Nights; Bahar-i Danish, or the Spring of Knowledge, and Kissa-i Chehar Darvish, or Tale of the Four Dervishes, will easily call to mind the many stories of Khalifs, Sultans, Shahs, Viziers, &c. being childless, and of the pious and even magical means they adopted to obtain the blessing of a son and heir.

Page 108. “In a dream.”—Muslims consider dreams as the predictions of future events. Good dreams are believed to be from God, and false ones from the Devil. “Whoever seeth me,” said the Prophet, “in his sleep, seeth me truly; for Satan cannot assume the similitude of my form.”—Lane’s Thousand and One Nights, iii, p. 512, note.

Page 108. “Was addressed by an old man,” &c.—According to Lescallier, “by a genie, resplendent with light.”

Page 109. “The top of a mountain, from which he shall fall, rolling in blood and clay.”—Lescallier’s rendering goes on to say: “He shall yet escape the murderous teeth of that lion; and when he has attained his twentieth year, he shall give you a wound, and put you to death.”

Page 109. “One of his Viziers eminently skilled in astrology”—Lescallier adds, “assisted by many other astronomers.”—In Eastern courts an astronomer would be held in disrespect if he did not debase the truth of his science to the vain predictions of astrology (‘ilmu-’n-nujun). Every professional astrologer hangs an astrolabe—which is not larger than the hollow of the hand—in a neat case, at his girdle. Some have an astrolabe two or three inches in diameter, which at a distance looks like a medal conferred on the wearer as a mark of honour, or as an order of merit.^[89] “A very slight knowledge of astronomy,” says Sir John Malcolm, “is sufficient to allow a Persian student to profess the occult science of judicial astrology. If a person can take an altitude with an astrolabe, knows the names of the planets and their different mansions, and a few technical phrases, and understands the astrological almanacs that are annually published, he deems himself entitled to offer his services to all who wish to consult him; and that includes every person in Persia who has the means to reward his skill. Nothing is done by a man of any consequence or property without reference to the stars. If any measure is to be adopted, if a voyage or journey is to be commenced, if a new dress is to be put on—the lucky or unlucky moment must be discovered, and the almanac and astrologer are consulted. A person wishing to commence a journey will not allow a fortunate day to escape, even though he is not ready to set out. He leaves his own house at the propitious moment, and remains, till he can actually proceed, in some incommodious lodging in its vicinity, satisfied that, by quitting his house, he has secured all the benefit which the influence of good stars can afford him.”^[90] When Sir John Malcolm entered Tehran as British Ambassador, the King’s astrologer so timed the progress of the cavalcade that the “Elchi’s” charger should put his foot over the threshold of the gate at the precise lucky moment, which he had previously ascertained.

The Chaldeans were the first astrologers, and the so-called science was sedulously cultivated and in high estimation among the Hindus, the Greeks, the Egyptians, and their Alexandrian disciples. Even the illustrious Tycho Brahe was devoted to astrology from his early youth until within a few years of his death, when he finally abandoned it as a fallacy. At first, and for a very long period afterwards, astrology was not separated into the two divisions or departments of natural astrology, or observations of the regular motions of the heavenly bodies (which is now termed astronomy), and judicial astrology, or the pretended science of foretelling events from observation of the relative positions of the planets. Isidore of Seville, it is said, was the first to distinguish between astronomy and astrology. The professors of judicial astrology in Europe pretended—as those in Asiatic countries still pretend—to be able to predict the destiny of any one who came to consult them, by a process called casting his horoscope, which was done by first ascertaining the precise hour of the person’s birth, and the sign the sun was in at that time, and then drawing conclusions from observation of the conjunction and relative position of the planets towards each other. But European astrologers very frequently—probably as a general rule—did not trouble themselves to “read the stars;” they were for the most part accomplished physiognomists, and it may be said that they usually contented themselves with telling fortunes by faces rather than by the appearance of the heavenly bodies. There can be little doubt that, with the exception of a few deluded individuals who thoroughly believed in their own skill, those who professed a knowledge of astrology were arrant impostors—cunning knaves, who traded on the prevalent superstition and credulity of mankind in the days before science began to shed its pure light.

El-Hajjaj, a general under the Khalif El-Walid I, consulted, in his last illness, an astrologer, who predicted to him his approaching death. “I rely so completely on your knowledge,” said El-Hajjaj to him, “that I wish to have you with me in the next world, and I shall therefore send you thither before me, in order that I may be able to employ your services from the time of my arrival.” He then ordered the soothsayer to be put to death, although the time fixed for this event by the planets had not yet arrived.—Abu-’l-Ma`shar, the oracle of astrology, left in writing, that he found the Christian religion, according to the indications of the stars, should last but fourteen hundred years—he has been belied by nearly five hundred years already.—Tiberius, when he was at Rhodes, wished to satisfy his curiosity with respect to judicial astrology. He sent, in succession, for all those who pretended to foretell future events. One of his enfranchised slaves, of great stature and extraordinary strength, conducted them to him through the intricacies of the precipices. If Tiberius discovered that the astrologer was a cheat, the slave, upon a given signal, immediately cast him into the sea. At that time there was at Rhodes a man named Trasullus, who was deeply skilled in astrology, and of a cunning disposition. He was taken, in the same manner as the others, to this retired spot, assured Tiberius that he should be Emperor, and revealed to him many other events that should take place. Tiberius asked him if he knew his own destiny, and if he had consulted his own horoscope. Trasullus—who had had some suspicions when he did not see any of his companions return, and felt his fears increase on viewing the countenance of Tiberius, the man who had been his conductor (who did not quit him for a moment), the elevated place where he stood, and the precipice which lay beneath him—turned his eyes up to heaven, as if to consult the stars; he immediately appeared fear-stricken, turned pale, and exclaimed, in an apparent agony of terror, that he was menaced with death. Tiberius was full of joy and admiration on hearing this reply, ascribing to astrology what was only presence of mind and cunning, cheered the spirits of Trasullus, embraced him, and from that time regarded him as an oracle.—An astrologer foretold the death of a lady whom Louis XI passionately loved. She did, in fact, die, and the King imagined that the prediction of the astrologer was the cause of it. He sent for the man, intending to have him thrown out of the window as a punishment. “Tell me,” said the King, “thou who pretendest to be so clever and learned a man, what thy own fate will be?” The soothsayer, who suspected the intentions of the King, and knew his foible, replied: “Sire, I foresee that I shall die three days before your Majesty.” Louis believed him, and was careful of the astrologer’s life.—An astrologer, fixing his eyes upon the Duke of Milan, said to him: “My Lord, arrange your affairs, for you have not long to live.” The Duke asked: “How dost thou know this?” “By my acquaintance with the stars,” answered the astrologer. “And pray, how long art thou to live?” “My planet promises me a long life.” “Well, thou shalt shortly discover that we ought not to trust the stars.” And the Duke ordered him to be hanged instantly.—Our own King Henry VIII asked an astrologer if he knew where he should pass the festivities at Christmas. The astrologer answered that he knew nothing on the subject. “Then,” said the King, “I am wiser than thou art; for I know that thou shalt pass them in the Tower of London;” and the unlucky astrologer was at once conducted thither.—William, Duke of Mantua, had in his stables a brood mare which gave birth to a mule. He immediately sent to the most famous astrologers in Italy the hour of the birth of this animal, requesting them to inform him what should be the fortune of a bastard that had been born in his palace; he took care, however, not to intimate that he was speaking of a mule. The soothsayers used their best endeavours to flatter the Prince, not doubting that the bastard belonged to himself. Some declared that it should be a general; others made it a bishop; some raised it to the rank of cardinal; and there were even some who elevated it to the papal chair!

It is truly marvellous that the same age which produced a Newton should also have seen flourish that arch-astrologer William Lilly (inimitably satirised by Butler under the name of Sidrophel),^[91] whose preposterous predictions were credited even by persons of education. Swift may be said to have dealt the death-blow to astrology by his celebrated squib, entitled “Prediction for the year 1718, by Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.,” in which he ridiculed the prophetic almanac-makers of the day. Astrology having permeated all science and literature, it is not surprising that many of its peculiar terms should have become embodied in our language, as, for example, in the words consider and contemplate, disaster and disastrous; and we still speak of jovial, mercurial, and saturnine men.—Kepler, in the preface to his Rudolphine tables, observes that Astrology, though a fool, was the daughter of a wise mother, to whose support and life the foolish daughter was indispensable.^[92]

Page 109. “In the meantime he caused a subterraneous dwelling to be constructed, to which he sent the boy, with a nurse.”—Sir William Ouseley has omitted to mention that the boy was born—on the following day, according to Lescallier.—Many instances of a father trying to belie the predictions of soothsayers occur in Eastern fiction, and also in classical and European legends. The story of Danae, the daughter of Acrisius, King of Argos, by Eurydice, who was confined in a brazen tower by her father, who had been told by an oracle that his daughter’s son should put him to death, is well known. The underground dwelling of our present tale may be compared with that described in chapter 79 of the English Gesta Romanorum; also that in the Arabian Nights (Story of the Second Kalender); and in the Bagh o Bahar (Tale of the Second Dervish), a young prince, in consequence of the prediction of astrologers that he is menaced with great danger until his fourteenth year, is confined in a vault, lined with felt, so that he should not behold the sun or moon. In Mr Ralston’s Tibetan Tales, under the title of “The Fulfilled Prophecy,” the diviners declare that “a son should be born who should take the King’s life and usurp the royal power, setting the diadem on his own head.” In the Norse story of “Rich Peter the Pedlar,”^[93] a prediction that his daughter should one day wed a poor man’s son is fulfilled in spite of many efforts to defeat it—a story which seems to have been adapted from the Gesta Romanorum, Tale xx of Swan’s translation. And in the Netherlandish Legend of “St Julian the Ferryman,” it is predicted that Julian shall one day put his own father and mother to death; and although the unhappy youth flies into a far distant country, he cannot flee from his terrible destiny, for many years afterwards the prediction proves only too true.^[94]

Page 110. “Keeper [of pen and ink] to the secretary” (dav dari).—The Orientals are great admirers of caligraphy. Jamshid, the Pishdadian king, in respect to scribes and writers, thus expressed himself: “As the monarch’s sword establishes the foundation of his kingdom, so the tongue of the scribe’s pen transacts the concerns of the faith:

And the Persian Vizier Nizam declared that his cap and inkhorn, the badges of his office, were connected by the divine decree with the throne and diadem of the Sultan (Gibbon, ch. lvii). It is worthy of remark that Mirza placed before a person’s name means “a man of the pen;” but if it follow, it means Shah-Zada, a prince. For different styles of writing see A.F.S. Herbin’s Essai de Calligraphie Orientale, Paris, 1803, 4to; Chardin’s Voyages en Perse, et autres lieux de l’Orient, t. ii, ch. iv, pp. 107–110; and Lane’s Modern Egyptians, vol. i, ch. ix. (See also second Note, page 202.)

Page 113. “His hair stand on end.”—Thus Job, iv, 15: “The hair of my flesh stood up;” and Homer, speaking of Priam, when terrified at the appearance of Mercury: “His hair stood upright on his bending limbs;” and the Ghost, addressing Hamlet, i, 4:

Page 114. “Assembled all the people by proclamation”—that they might take warning from the young man’s fate. But the Persians require no invitation to scenes of this nature. “The curiosity,” says Dr Chodzko,^[95] “which gathers crowds of people to witness the execution of culprits in Europe is very feeble in comparison with what can be seen in Asia on similar occasions. There many of those present are not only fond of looking at, but even take an active part in tormenting the condemned, though they never saw him before, or have any motive of revenge. To stab the poor dying wretch with a knife, or at least to spit in his face, is an innocent pleasure, which even the women do not refuse themselves. Those who are moved by revenge are still more savage. Riza Kuli Khan, the governor of Yezd, having expelled from that town one of the sons of the Shah (in 1830), was afterwards taken prisoner and sent to Tehran. The Shah gave the culprit up to the offended prince, who, after promising to pardon and forget all, invited him to supper in the harem, and there stabbed him with his own hands. His wives, and the maid-servants of the harem, cut to pieces the body, weltering in blood, with scissors, and pricked and tortured him till he gave up his last breath!—I can see no reason for this but their brutalising education. A child begins by wringing off the heads of living sparrows. When he grows up they buy him a little sword, and exercise the boy in cutting in two halves, first living fowls, then lambs, sheep, and so on. Grown-up people consider it as a very fashionable pastime to snatch a ram from the flock, order two of their servants to hold it by the head and feet, and placing a bundle of straw underneath, in order to prevent the sword from striking against the ground, to cut the bleating animal to pieces while it is alive. The most famous of such swordsmen in Persia was Sulayman Mirza, son of Fatah `Ali Shah. He has often, in the presence of the Shah and numerous witnesses, with one blow of his huge scimitar cut in two an ass, and severed the head of a camel from its neck.”

In Lescallier’s version, for the King of Persia we have the King of Arabia.—In Cazotte’s rendering, under the title of “The Sultan Hebraim [Ibrahim] and his Son, or The Predestined,” is found a considerably amplified but very interesting version of this story. After the young prince has been discovered and carried away from the underground palace by a huntsman (not the King’s secretary, but “a man of rank and fortune”), the incidents are totally different from those of our version. Abaquir—the young prince—is carefully brought up by his master, and in course of time becomes accomplished in all the exercises befitting a noble youth. One day he accompanies his master to the chase, when they are suddenly attacked by robbers, who slay the elder of the hunters, and having severely wounded Abaquir, leave him for dead. Recovering after a long period of insensibility, he rises and walks onwards through the forest, till he meets with a dervish, who takes him to his cave and treats him with kindness and hospitality. This dervish proves to be a wicked magician, who prevails upon Abaquir to descend into the bowels of a mountain to bring up precious stones, which the false dervish having drawn safely up, the poor youth is then cruelly abandoned to his fate. From this cavern Abaquir escapes, and after a long journey he reaches a city, where a kind-hearted man receives him into his house, and he remains with him some time. Weary at length of inaction, he resolves to go out to hunt, and meets with a party of robbers, whose real avocation he does not know, and joins them—the robbers binding him to fidelity by a solemn oath. Too late he discovers the true character of his companions, but is compelled to accompany them on their plundering expeditions. The daring outrages perpetrated by this gang of robbers become so notorious that the Sultan Hebraim marches against them at the head of some chosen troops. The robbers are utterly defeated, but the Sultan himself is grievously wounded. On returning to his capital he sends for his astrologers, and angrily asks them whether in their predictions they had foreseen that he should die by the hand of a robber. They affirm that what the stars had predicted could not prove false, and suggest that the Sultan should ascertain who it was, among the robbers, that wounded him, and then inquire into his birth and history. Abaquir, his own son, is the robber who inflicted the fatal wound; and after he has given the best account he could of his early years, and shown the scars of the lion’s claws on his breast, the Sultan submits to the decree of Fate, and dies shortly after declaring Abaquir his successor.—In Habicht’s Arabian text (which agrees with Cazotte in nearly all the details) it is stated that the King went once every month to the opening of the underground dwelling, let down a rope, and drew up his son, embraced and kissed and played with him awhile, then let him down again.

Notes on Conclusion.

Page 116. “Sent an order to the Viziers,” &c. The lithographed text says: “Instantly he commanded Bakhtyar to be fetched. The King with his own hands drew off the fetters, brought him before the Queen, and put on him a kaba [see Note p. 135] and a kulah”—that is, a robe and a turban.—Certain officers of the King of Persia’s household who wear gold tiaras are called Zarrin-Kullahan, Golden Caps.

Page 117. “Resigned the throne to Bakhtyar.”—In Hindu stories a very usual conclusion is the King’s abdication of his throne in favour of his son; and it is highly probable that such was actually the custom formerly. In the European mediÆval romance of “The Knight with the Swan,” King Oriant abdicates in favour of his son Helias.—See Mr W. J. Thoms’ Early English Prose Romances.

Page 117. “Dignity of Chief Vizier.”—The text reads: “He conferred on Farrukhsuwar, with complete honour and reverence, the Vizier’s Khil`at [see Note p. 136], and appointed him Commander-in-chief (Sipahsalar).”

The lithographed text thus concludes: “This book is finished by the aid of the King the Giver [i.e. God]”: tamma-’l-kitab bi `awni-’l-Maliki-’l-Wahhab.

Additional Notes.

As a few notes remain to be added to the foregoing, I take the opportunity of correcting in this place some errors which have occurred while these sheets were passing through the press.

Page 157, line 1, for Berica read Beroea.

Page 160, line 19 for chemy read cheraiy, or sheraiy.

Page 167, lines 7 and 8.—It may be as well to explain that the words tavakkul bar Khuda are a Persian translation (in the text) of the Arabic tawakkal `ala-’llahi of the Kur’an, ch. xxxiii (not xxxvii), 3—“put thy trust in God.”

Page 169, line 19, for Trinchinopoli read Trichinopoli.

The following note, by mischance, has been omitted in its proper place (Notes on Chapter VIII):

Page 93. “The King graciously received the present which Ruzbih offered.”—It is well known that, in all parts of the East, whoever visits a great person must carry him a present. “It is counted uncivil,” says Maundrell, p. 26, “to visit in this country without an offering in hand. All great men expect it as a tribute due to their character and authority; and look upon themselves as affronted, and indeed defrauded, when the compliment is omitted.” In the sacred writings we find mention made of this custom. For instance, 1 Samuel ix, 7: “But behold, if we go, what shall we bring the man? for the bread is spent in our vessels, and there is not a present (teshurah) to bring to the man of God—what have we?” Menachem explains teshurah to signify “an offering or gift, which is presented in order to be admitted into the presence of a King or some great man.” See also Isaiah lvii, 9, lit.: “And thou hast visited the King with a present of oil.”

“The King of Yemen and his Slave”—see page 56, and last note, page 174.—This story in Habicht’s Arabian text is entitled “The History of King Bihkard,” and the following passages may be compared with those of our text and with Lescallier, above referred to: On a certain day he went on a hunting excursion, and one of his servants shot an arrow, and it struck the King’s ear, and cut it off. The King asked: “Who shot this arrow?” The attendants instantly conducted the bowman to the front, and his name was Yatru. Fainting from fear, he threw himself on the ground, and the King said: “Put him to death.” But Yatru said: “O King, this fault is not of my own choice or knowledge—pardon me, then, out of thy kindness, since grace is the most gracious of actions, and oftentimes on some future day becomes a treasure and a benefit, and in the sight of God a recompense at the last day. Pardon me, then: as you avert evil from me, so will God ward off from thee a similar evil.” When the King heard these words, he admired and forgave Yatru, yet never had he before pardoned any one.

Now this servant was of royal extraction, and had fled from his country, by reason of some transgression, and had entered the service of King Bihkard. And this is what happened to him. By chance a person who knew him passed that way, and gave information to his father, who sent him a letter, which gratified his heart and disposition; and he returned to his father, who inclined indulgently towards him. Yatru rejoiced, and his affairs were rectified.—Compare also Lescallier and Cazotte, cited in pp. 178, 179.

Arabian Version of Abu Temam’s Mission.

According to Habicht’s text, the account of Abu Temam’s delicate—not to say dangerous—mission to the King of Turkistan is very different from that of the Persian version. The King desires him to enter the harem, and see and converse with the Princess; and he proceeds thither, reflecting on the way that “Wise men have averred that whoever deprives his sight [that is, closes his eyes] no evil can attach to him; and whoever bridles his tongue hears nothing disagreeable; and whoever restrains his hand, it can neither be shortened nor lengthened.” He accordingly enters the chamber of the Princess, and sits down on the floor, gathering together the extremities of his robe. When the King’s daughter requests him to raise his head, look upon and converse with her, Abu Temam remains mute, and with downcast eyes. She then requests him to take the pearls, and the gold and silver which lie near him, but he does not extend his hand towards anything. At this the Princess is vexed, and tells her father that they have sent a blind, and deaf, and foolish ambassador; whereupon the King of Turkistan demands of Abu Temam why he had not looked upon and conversed with his daughter: he replies that he had seen everything [he should see]; and in answer to the inquiry, why he had not taken the proffered pearls, he says that it was not proper for him to extend his hand to aught that belongs to another. The King, overjoyed at his prudence, embraces him, shows him the heads of former ambassadors (see page 214, line 4), consents to give his daughter in marriage to Abu Temam’s royal master, and presents him with a robe of honour, after which Abu Temam departs, and in due course the Princess is sent to the palace of Ilan Shah.

Arabian Version of the Conclusion of the Romance.

In Habicht’s Arabian text the conclusion is as follows (comp. pp. 115–117):

When the youth had finished his narrative, the King said: “Still thou wouldest bewilder us with thy discourses, but the time is now come for your execution.”—At the moment when they were conducting the youth to the gallows, the robber-chief who had educated him arrived in the town. When he observed the people assembling together, he inquired the cause, and they said to him: “The King has commanded a young culprit to be executed.” The robber-chief, who wished to see the youth, immediately recognised him, and kissed him on the mouth, and said: “This youth, when a child, I found near a fountain. I adopted him, and brought him up. One day we attacked a caravan, and were driven into flight, and he was taken prisoner. Since then I have sought everywhere for him, and never could gain any news respecting him.” When the King heard this he cried aloud, threw himself on the youth, embraced and kissed him, and said: “I should have put my own son to death, and in consequence should have died of grief.” The King then unfettered the Prince, took the crown from his own head, and placed it on that of his son. The news was made public by the beating of drums and the braying of trumpets, the town was illuminated, and there arose such a shouting of joy that the birds could scarcely support themselves in the air. All prisoners were released by order of the King, and a seven days’ festival proclaimed throughout the kingdom.

On the eighth day the King placed his son at his side, and summoned all his friends, the city notables, and the viziers. To these last the Prince said: “You see now the work of God’s providence—you now perceive His aid was near.” The Viziers were struck dumb, and the King added: “I observe that on this day all the people rejoice, even the birds of the air—ye only are downcast; that is truly a proof of rancour against me. Had I listened to your advice, I should have died from the effects of despair and repentance.” The King then summoned to his presence the robber-chief, made him many presents, and said: “Whoever loves the King, let him lavish gifts on this man.” Whereupon he was so overwhelmed with presents that he could not take any more; and the King then conferred upon him the governorship of the province in which he had dwelt.

Soon afterwards the King ordered nine sets of gallows to be erected near the one already set up, and said to his son: “Thou wast guiltless—these wicked Viziers slandered thee in my eyes.” The Prince rejoined: “My crime consisted of my loyalty to thee—seeing that I removed their hands from thy treasures, they envied me, and wished my death.” “On that account,” said the King, “let their punishment now be near, for their crime is great: to destroy thee, they did not scruple to disgrace my house in the opinion of all sovereigns.” He then turned to the Viziers, and said to them: “Woe be to you! Wherewith can you excuse yourselves?” They replied: “O King, there is no excuse for us—we were unkind to the youth, and wished his misfortune, which has recoiled on us;—for him we dug a grave and have fallen into it ourselves.” Hereupon the King issued an order for their execution—“for,” said he, “God is just, and all His judgments are true.” The King afterwards lived in happiness and peacefully with his spouse and his son, until the disturber of all earthly friends reached them likewise.

1. See Thoms’ Lays and Legends of Germany; Thorpe’s Yule-Tide Stories; Roscoe’s German Novelists.