Chapter XIII

O branch of an exquisite rose plant, for whose
sake dost thou grow? Ah! on whom will that
smiling rose-bud confer delight?

HAFIZ.

Nor did Nourmahal confine herself to these occupations, although, in a profitable point of view, they were the most productive in which she could have been engaged. The prices to which her manufactures speedily rose, in consequence of the avidity with which they were sought throughout Hindostan, would have enabled her to realize a handsome fortune. But it was her pride to vary her employments, in order that she should feel no talent under her command, which she did not exercise on this occasion, in the service of her beloved parents.

She had acquired, almost while she was a child, the art of carving in ivory. This she now put into requisition, and imparted also to her handmaids. They combined to create from the shapeless masses, which Zeinedeen procured for them, miniature temples, towers, baskets, images of the Hindoo gods, chessmen, and small essence cases of the most exquisite description.

One of the most remarkable of their productions, was a model of the market-place in Agra, and of portions of the streets immediately leading into it. There were to be seen, either in the market, or hastening towards it, vendors of fruits, vegetables, flowers, milk, rice, honeycomb, perfumes, medicines, jewels, trinkets, books, and ballads; horses, camels, and elephants; birds and beasts of every kind.

The actors in this varied scene were so cunningly displayed, in the expression of countenance,--in attitude,--in costume sometimes very ragged,--often scanty in the extreme, that they seemed actually to live, and to be shouting out the names of the different objects which they had to sell. Those objects were necessarily all upon the most minute scale. But they were imitated in every respect with the most elaborate skill, and with a degree of perfection altogether unrivalled. It was said, that for this production alone Nourmahal received a thousand gold rupees.

Excelling, as she did, all other persons in almost every thing she undertook, this pious daughter attended also with an assiduity which she suffered no other occupation to interrupt, even to the meanest department of her little household. She was usually the first to awake every morning. Arraying herself in a plain cotton robe cinctured at the waist and plaited on her bosom, in trowsers of the same material, and slippers of russet cloth, her beautiful and abundant hair folded into the narrowest possible compass on the crown of her head, and braided over her temples, she called her handmaids to her assistance, and proceeded to cleanse and put in order the apartment opening to the Jumna, which was the sitting room of the family. This chamber, so meanly furnished when they first took possession of it, she had converted into a little paradise. The window, overlooking the river, though of ample size, and admitting a quantity of light sufficient to give the room a cheerful appearance, was, nevertheless, so closely latticed, that it was calculated always to remind them of their captive condition. She contrived, however, to modify its unpleasant effect in that way, by gilding the bars, and wreathing them with festoons of an artificial clematis, which, without intercepting any considerable portion of the light, gave the window an airy and graceful appearance, through the muslin curtains and drapery she suspended over it. The walls were hung with rich damask of a bright amber colour, and the vaulted ceiling was covered with folds of azure silk, which made the room resemble the interior of a pavilion. For the wretched divan which originally ran round the apartment, were substituted sofas and ottomans, covered with purple velvet, decorated with superb fringes and tassels of gold bullion. A Persian carpet, representing a leopard in pursuit of antelopes and foxes, was spread upon the floor. Round ebony-tables, and stands of red rose-wood, were disposed in the corners, and exhibited a variety of beautiful porcelain jars and vases, abundantly replenished with perfumes; silver filagree cases, holding small china coffee cups, sherbet glasses, and gold baskets always filled with the most delicious confectionary, and golden ewers for ablutions.

If any of the fringes, or linings, happened to be rent, Nourmahal was ready with a needle and thread, in a silken case suspended from her girdle, to repair them. She took her full share in brushing the carpet, in preventing any dust from accumulating on the drapery, in arranging the table for the morning meal, pounding the coffee in a mortar, and preparing the beverage itself, in which she skilfully preserved the fine aroma, that constitutes the juice of the mocha an almost intoxicating nectar. Her father was fond of a small saffron cake, with coriander seed mixed in it. She was careful to have a fresh supply for him every morning, kneaded by her own hand, and baked under her own eye on the hearth of a recess in the tower, which they were allowed to use as a kitchen. The other meals of the day were arranged under her mother’s superintendance. From these luxury was absent, Kazim always preferring viands dressed with the utmost simplicity, followed by a cup or two of generous wine, which he found conducive to health and cheerfulness.

Under Nourmahal’s care the two other apartments assigned to their use, were also speedily altered from their original gloomy appearance. That next to the principal saloon was the bed-chamber of her parents; the other was occupied for the same purpose, by herself and her attendants. The walls and ceilings of these rooms were hung with blue or green silk, and abundantly furnished with carpets, mattresses, and cushions, whose soft and soothing aspect invited to repose.

The morning meal over, Nourmahal changed her cotton dress for a snow-white lawn tunic and trowsers, and seated herself, with her assistants, to the occupation marked out for the day. They were usually richly apparelled, unless when menially employed; for, although their mistress preferred very plain attire for herself, she felt a pleasure in seeing her companions exhibiting some of the profits of their labour, in the variety and elegance of their costume--a taste, on her part, to which they--artless and rather pretty maidens--had no objection. Mangeli now and then participated in their operations; but she more frequently sat by her husband, knitting stockings, while he read for the whole circle passages from the poetry he admired; or tales from the Persian, which seemed to have peculiar charms for the slaves. It was delightful to him to give them an indulgence in that respect. But he always reserved some hours to himself for graver pursuits--the study of law, the perusal of philosophical works, or the collection of materials from his memory for a history of his own times. The evenings were generally devoted to music.

The spectacle of family affection, industry, innocence, cheerfulness, and religion, presented by these illustrious prisoners and their domestics, when congregated together during the coolness of the early summer morning, was one which even a cherub, winging his way through space charged with a message from heaven to distant worlds, would have stopped to contemplate. What could Bochari have done against persons of this description, whose mental resources defied all his powers of persecution? The fame of Nourmahal’s productions was spread all over the empire. But the admiration in which they were universally held, was secondary to the applause and sympathy which she won from every parent, for the earnest and successful application of her varied talents to the support of those whom her filial piety rendered so sacred in her estimation. Bochari well knew that any attempt to follow up his fabricated charges of high treason against her, would be, in truth, to bring upon his head a revolution. For any such consequence as that, he was as yet insufficiently prepared. Nothing was left undone by which he could hope eventually to accomplish the extirpation of the house of Ayas. So long as Kazim and Nourmahal existed, he felt them as obstacles in his way to the throne, at which he now aimed. But time was still wanted to mature his designs. The experiment tried upon the mansion of the chancellor, afforded him a warning which he had not yet forgotten.

The spirit of deep discontent was, he knew from his emissaries, spreading from day to day amongst the people. The emperor was seldom seen by them beyond the walls of the seraglio. Indeed he was scarcely ever heard of, as, although all the acts of authority were still carried on in his name, it was known that he was very little consulted with respect even to measures of the first importance. The only person with whom the Persian seemed to share his absolute power was Auzeem, from whom, on every occasion on which he sought them, he received assistance and counsel, to the astonishment and regret of all those omrahs who were acquainted with that minister’s character. They could not understand how Auzeem, hitherto looked up to for the experience of the statesman, the honour of the true nobleman, the fidelity with which he served the emperor abroad and at home, and even the particular and zealous regard which he evinced towards Jehangire, could have been prevailed upon to abandon the interest of his master and friend; of the man who, in familiarity, called him uncle; and dedicate all his powers to the consolidation of the tyranny which the usurper had established.

Indeed, Bochari himself sometimes wondered at the readiness with which Auzeem entered into his views. He never found in that adviser any disposition to halt at measures of a moderate character, when a crisis, or even a minor disturbance was apprehended. Auzeem always resolved in favour of the sternest course. His suggestions were shaped with a direct tendency to put down all chance of any successful revolt against Bochari’s authority. His influence over the emperor was every day becoming greater; but Bochari had no reason to be jealous of it, because it was manifestly used for the purpose of reconciling Jehangire to the idea that his life was in perpetual danger from the poniards of conspirators, and that he could not do better than allow Bochari to take into his hands the uncontrolled government of the empire.

So entirely did the Persian rely upon Auzeem’s zeal in his favour, that he latterly seldom thought it necessary to communicate personally with the emperor. The bickerings, and downright quarrels which occurred between him and Jehangire, at almost every interview, produced feelings so opposite to those kindled in the heart of the Persian by the daily increasing adulation of his numerous parasites, that most of his time was passed in their company.

Nothing was now talked of amongst these persons but the abdication of the emperor. They induced Bochari to believe that the apparent tranquillity which had prevailed for some time, without any remarkable interruption, was an unequivocal testimony of his success in the plans he had put into action for reducing the country under his yoke. The idea was readily taken up by the Orcha chieftains and their dependants, who had become very impatient, on account of the procrastinating answers which the Persian was obliged to give to their importunities for the vice-royalties he had promised them. If the emperor were dethroned, the authority under which the different subahs of the provinces had been acting would, of course, altogether cease, and their successors would experience no difficulty in taking possession of their offices.

Even in this audacious design, Auzeem appeared to concur. The moment it was hinted to him by Bochari, he declared himself in favour of it.

“Indeed,” said he, “to be candid with you, this is a measure which I have already considered in all its bearings. Nor do I apprehend that the emperor will strongly object to it. He has lately almost wholly alienated his mind from affairs of state.”

“And has returned, no doubt, to his theological follies, mingling with them, as usual, his devotions also to the wine-cup?”

“As to that, you are aware of his habits from a very early age.”

“It would be a pity to disturb them. If the reports of the seraglio may be depended upon, the uncle and the nephew still spend many a night together, alternately reading the Koran, and shewing their respect for it, by having their tables laden with flasks of Cabul wine. Ha! ha! ha!”

“Ha! ha! ha! Ah, my friend, I believe, after all, that we have found the true philosopher’s stone; the real talisman of happiness. To you we consign all the cares of the empire; while no hour passes us by, that is not redolent of pleasure. Ha! ha! ha!”

“Keep to that--keep to that, Auzeem. His majesty shall never want supplies from Cabul. Now as to the abdication.”

“There will be no difficulty in the matter, if you do but arrange it prudently.”

“What would you advise me to do?”

“You are aware of that foolish passion which Jehangire has long entertained for Nourmahal.”

“She is a dangerous woman. Her name is in every body’s mouth. It is chalked upon all the walls in Agra.”

“It must be owned that she is an extraordinary woman. Hurled by your arm from a palace to a prison, she has contrived to diffuse her reputation throughout the empire, by the productions of her industry--productions having nothing in them which you can charge as treasonable, and yet calculated to produce political consequences of the most important character.”

“That is precisely my feeling, though I had never been able so clearly to understand her designs before.”

“Every brocade she sends out is a proclamation against your authority.”

“This must be put a stop to.”

“I agree with you; but the question is, how?”

“Jehangire is still, you say, attached to her?”

“Ardently. I am convinced that he would give his crown for her hand.”

“Depend upon it, she would then put the crown on her own head. No--Auzeem, this must not be thought of. Cannot your experience suggest some other course for getting rid of that woman?”

“Let Jehangire marry her, upon condition that he abdicates, and that both retire to Persia upon an adequate income, secured to them out of the treasury.”

“Well thought of. You have proved my best friend, Auzeem. When the sceptre shall be grasped in this hand, look upon Cashmere as yours.”

“That would be a reward far above my merits. It is a sufficient compensation to me to feel, that I have in any way contributed to the establishment of the power, which you now so worthily exercise. I shall go, forthwith, to sound the emperor.”

“If I am deceived in that man,” thought Bochari to himself, as Auzeem quitted the cabinet in which they had been conversing, “I can never again put trust in any human being. Jehangire wedded to Nourmahal! Would they not then be too strong for me? Her name has a sorcery about it, which seems to have turned the heads of the people of Agra. The very ballads sung through the market-place are full of her praises. Conspiracy is at the bottom of this. I have no doubt of it. If she would go to Persia, however, and be contented to remain there, that would be some security. And then the diadem of Hindostan would indeed be mine! Oh! glorious destiny for the son of a portrait-painter, as the malignant omrahs are pleased to call me! Their day will come yet. Nourmahal too, and her imperial lover, let them be but once beyond the confines of the empire; I shall take good care that they never return.”