Chapter XVI: Conclusion (4)

_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 kabāb, wa sīna-i kharāb_, 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 `Abbās 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 Bahā ’u-’d Dīn Zuhayr, of Egypt, says:

My love is like a young gazelle,
Appearing on the huntsman’s _right_;
And oh! the bargain prospered well,
When she and I our troth did plight.

_Page 91._ “Heir to the crown.”—Bihrūz, 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, Shīrīn Bānū, the daughter of the King Yazdejird, was one of the captives, and was publicly exposed to sale in the city of Madīna; but the liberal-minded `Alī thought differently from his countrymen on this occasion; he declared that the offspring of princes ought not to be sold, and married her immediately to his son.”[86]—The lot of women in Arabia before the time of Muhammad was at the best a hard one, and it certainly underwent no improvement when they happened to be taken captive in any of the frequent tribal wars. (The brutal treatment of the beauteous Abla, in the _Romance of `Antar_, when she fell into the hands of the chief of a tribe hostile to that of `Abs, is doubtless a faithful picture of Arabian life in those times.) And there can be no question that the cruel and unnatural practice which prevailed among the pre-Islamite Arabs of burying alive their new-born female children had its origin in a desire to save them from the hardships they were so likely to encounter when grown up. This practice seems to have been at one time common to most of the nations of antiquity.

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

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

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

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

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

NOTES ON CHAPTER IX.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The ringlets of the idols of Chighil
Are altogether the abode of the soul, and the dwelling of the
heart.”[87]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

NOTES ON CHAPTER X.

_Page 107._ The King of Persia (_Shāh `Ajam_).—The term _`Ajam_ includes all who cannot speak Arabic, or who do not speak it with elegance. Among the Arabs it applies to all people not of Arab descent, and carries the same idea as Barbarians with the Greeks, Gentiles with the Hebrews. Hence Persia is called `Ajamistān, the land of the stranger, or barbarian. And so two famous Arabian poems are distinguished respectively by the nationalities of their authors: _Lāmiyyatu-’l-`Arab_, by the Arabian brigand-poet Shanfará, and _Lāmiyyātu-’l-`Ajam_, by Et Tugrā`ī, a native of Isfahān: that is, the L-Poem (from its rhyming in _lam_, or L) of the Arab, and the L-Poem of the Foreigner.

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

_Page 108._ “In a dream.”—Muslims consider dreams as the predictions of future events. Good dreams are believed to be from God, and false ones from the Devil. “Whoever seeth me,” said the Prophet, “_in his sleep_, seeth me truly; for Satan cannot assume the similitude of my form.”—Lane’s _Thousand and One Nights_, iii, p. 512, _note_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The sharp-edged sword and pen are twins; the reigning monarch,
By reliance on these two supporters, elevates his neck on high.”

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

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

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.

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

* * * * *

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

NOTES ON CONCLUSION.

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

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

_Page 117._ “Dignity of Chief Vizier.”—The text reads: “He conferred on Farrukhsuwār, with complete honour and reverence, the Vizier’s _Khil`at_ [see Note p. 136], and appointed him Commander-in-chief (_Sipahsālār_).”

The lithographed text thus concludes: “This book is finished by the aid of the King the Giver [_i.e._ God]”: _tamma-’l-kitāb bi `awni-’l-Māliki-’l-Wahhāb_.

ADDITIONAL NOTES.

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

Page 157, line 1, for Berica _read_ Berœa.

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

Page 167, lines 7 and 8.—It may be as well to explain that the words _tavakkul bar Khudā_ are a Persian translation (in the text) of the Arabic _tawakkal `ala-’llāhi_ of the Kur’ān, ch. xxxiii (_not_ xxxvii), 3—“put thy trust in God.”

Page 169, line 19, for Trinchinopoli _read_ Trichinopoli.

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

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