Hatim’s journey to the desert and city of Himyar— His interview with Hamir, and his return to the city of Shahabad.
THE historians have informed us, that when Hatim set out on his journey from Shahabad he had not the least idea in what direction he ought to proceed All he knew of the man in question was, that he dwelt in the city of Himyar; he therefore placed his reliance upon divine Providence, and continued his route to the north. When a month had thus passed, the summit of a mountain appeared in the distant horizon. Thither Hatim directed his steps, and when he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he heard a voice loudly exclaiming in the world of the following hemistich: “Come, Oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.”
Hatim began to ascend the mountain till he saw a wide-spreading and shady tree, underneath which was placed a sofa formed of marble. On the sofa reclined a young man fair of countenance, holding in his hand a branch of the tree, and his eyes shut as it were in a state of abstraction, exclaiming, at short intervals, “Come, Oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.” When Hatim saw him, he wondered within himself how a human being could have taken up his residence in such a solitary spot: he therefore resolved to ask him the cause of his sorrow. He went up close to the youth, and said, “Friend, tell me what is the nature of your grief?” The young man continued in the same state of listlessness without taking the least notice of Hatim’s inquiry, but uttered another exclamation in the words above given. Again Hatim addressed him, but received no reply; and very shortly after, he for the third time asked him, saying, “Strange youth, surely you are deaf; thrice have I requested to know the cause of your sorrow, and you have returned me no answer: am I forsooth not to be considered by you as a man, and a servant of the Almighty?” The youth opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, said to him, “My good friend, whence come you; what is your business with me, and what is the subject of your inquiries?”— “You and I,” replied Hatim, “are of the same species, perhaps I may be able to contribute to your relief.” — “Alas!” rejoined the other, “many a one like you has come here, and having teased me with questions respecting my condition, have abandoned me; but no one has hitherto made any effort to relieve me: may I then request that you too will go your way?” Hatim still persevered, saying, “As you have told your tale to so many, I beg, for heaven’s sake, that you will let me also hear it.”— “Sit down then for a moment,” said the young man, “till I relate to you my history.”
Hatim reclined beneath the shade of the tree, and the youth thus proceeded with his tale: “I am a merchant. Once I was journeying with my caravan towards the empire of Rum, and at a certain spot on the road near this mountain I desired my attendants to move onwards, while I remained admiring the surrounding scenery, after which I should soon overtake them. My caravan accordingly proceeded, and I began to climb the mountain; but the higher I went, the greater became my desire to reach its summit. At length I stopped to rest underneath this tree; when, lo! a damsel unparalleled in beauty of countenance and elegance of form, presented herself to my view. The moment I beheld this ravisher of hearts, reason abandoned my soul, and senseless I fell on the ground. The moon-faced damsel approached me, and raising my head upon her lap, besprinkled my face with rose water of sweet fragrance. When I returned to my senses, and found my head reclining upon the lap of this Houri, heavens! had I a thousand hearts, her beauty would have robbed me of them all. I stood up, and asked her, ‘Fairest of damsels, who are you, and from what cause do you dwell in this solitude?’— ‘I am a fairy’ she replied, ‘and this mountain is my residence: I have long wished to see one of the human race such as you are, and this day the desire of my heart has been realized.’ In short, I became so fascinated with the charms of this fairy angel, that I lost all thoughts of my caravan, my home, my merchandise, and myself. She smiled so irresistibly sweet, that she entangled my heart in the intricate fetters of her waving ringlets.
“After I had lived three months in the enjoyment of her society, I one day said to her, ‘why should we thus spend our lives in solitude? It would be far better for us to remove to the city, and there pass our time in the midst of pleasure.’ To this the fairy replied, ‘If such is your wish, I am satisfied; and I shall willingly accompany you as soon as I can get permission to quit this place. Meanwhile I must leave you for a short time, and you must not stir hence till my return; remain underneath this same tree till I rejoin you, when we shall set out together for your city.’ I then said to her, ‘How long will you be absent?’— ‘Within seven days,’ she answered, ‘I shall certainly return; and, I repeat, beware of moving hence till I come, otherwise you will have cause to repent.’
“It is now seven years since the fairy left me and on, account of her injunctions and my promise, I durst not, during that period, go away anywhere, lest in my absence my beloved should have returned, and not finding me here she should have cause to be angry with me. But, in fact, my strength is now so reduced that I cannot proceed in search of her, having lived for so long a time on the leaves of trees and water from the fountain. I may verily say, that to me the earth is hard, and the heaven is far off; I cannot stay, and I dare not go. Many people like yourself have come to me, and on hearing my history have gone their way; and on that account I disregarded your inquiries.”
When the young man had finished his tale, Hatim said to him, “Pray, sir, what is your name?”— “I am called Tamim of Kharzim,” was the reply. “Did the fairy,” rejoined Hatim, “mention to you her name and place of abode?”— “Her name,” replied the other, “is Alkanpari, and her residence is the mountain Alka.”— “When she left you,” continued Hatim, “in what direction did she proceed?”— “She walked to the right,” answered the youth; “but very soon I lost sight of her, and I know not whither she went.”— “Well,” said Hatim, “if you really wish to see that fairy again, come with me, and we shall set off together to the mountain of Alka, and endeavour to find her out.”— “Your proposal is fair,” answered the youth; “but if I depart with you, and during my absence the mistress of my heart should happen to come here, she will return disappointed; my journey will then be of no avail, and I shall not obtain the object of my wish. If it be destined for me ever to meet with her, it must be in this spot; and if otherwise, I am willing to sacrifice my life for the sake of her whom I love.”
When Hatim heard this, tears of pity flowed from his eyes; while he thus addressed the young man: “My good friend, I will myself go to the mountain of Alka, and should it please the Almighty Creator, I shall find out that beautiful fairy, and either cause her to return to you, or bring her hither in person: I will depart immediately while you shall remain here, and when I have discovered the dwelling place of Alkanpari, I shall return.”— “Noble sir,” said the youth, in reply, “I have never yet seen any one who would abandon his own affairs in order to serve others; why should you be an exception to this rule? go then and follow your own business.”— “Mistake me not, young man,” said Hatim, “I have devoted my life and property to the service of my fellow-creatures, and so far as either of them may be of use, I am ready to assist the distressed. Be assured, sir, that I now speak sincerely; I have made a vow to God always to speak the truth, and never in my life have I uttered a falsehood; trust me then, and remain here till I return.”
The young man promised that, as long as life remained in his body, he would not leave that spot; and Hatim bidding him farewell, recommended him to the care of God, and departed. He proceeded in the direction which the fairy had gone, and for the whole of that day had his eyes bent towards the top of the mountain; but he no sooner approached the summit, than another still higher appeared beyond it. He passed onwards to the higher mountain, which he began to ascend. Its side abounded with evergreen trees and shady groves. At length he came to a spot overshadowed by four aged and wide-spreading trees, underneath which were placed seats both neat and clean. Hatim reclined on one of these couches, and as the breezes were cool and refreshing, he soon fell sleep. In the midst of his slumbers four fairies came and sat down beside him, and when they discovered that the sleeper was one of Adam’s race, they said one to another, “How has this young man found his way hither? Let us question him as to the object of his journey.”
One of the four fairies having awaked Hatim, said to him, “Pray, tell us, young man, how have you arrived here, and on what account are you come?” Hatim opened his eyes, and on seeing the fairies, replied, “I have travelled hither, under the guidance of my Creator, in search of Alkanpari, who resides in the mountain of Alka. That beautiful fairy has captured the heart of a youth by name Tamim, whom she one day left underneath a tree, promising to return in the course of seven days; and, lo! the youth has there waited seven years in expectation of her. The miserable wretch is now in the agonies of death; and I am going to expostulate with the fairy for her cruelty and insincerity, for to make a promise and not to fulfil it, is a proceeding unbecoming the noble.”
To this the fairies replied, “Alkanpari is sovereign of the mountain of Alka, how is it possible that she could have pledged herself to hold an interview with one of your race? In truth, you are mad to say so, and it is our duty to put you to instant death.”— “If such be my fate,” returned Hatim, “I am resigned.” The fairies relenting, said to him, “If you will pass some days in our society and entertain us with your conversation, we shall conduct you to the mountain of Alka.”— “I agree,” said Hatim, “particularly as I have no other resource, and the success of my present journey must depend upon you.” The fairy damsels then presented him with food, and treated him most hospitably with every kind of eatable that he could desire. When the stipulated period had elapsed, Hatim requested to be conducted on his way by his fair entertainers, who readily accompanied him during the space of seven days, and then took leave, saying, “Beyond this spot we dare not advance: you must hold by the path towards the right hand till you come in sight of a mountain, at the foot of which there are two roads; but there you must again take that which leads to the right, and you will thereby arrive at the mauntain of Alka.”
Hatim bade adieu to his guides, and proceeded on his journey towards the mountain. In a month after he came to the place where the road branched into two, and as the shades of the night were falling, he there sat down, in order to rest till day. When a watch of the night had elapsed, his ear was struck with a voice of sorrow that issued from the surrounding desert. He raised his head from the lap of sleep, and as he listened to the mournful sounds, he thought within himself: “Oh, Hatim! thou hast devoted thyself to the service of thy Creator; and now, when the voice of distress pierces thy ear, why dost thou hesitate to administer relief? What will be thy answer hereafter in the presence of the great Judge?” With these reflections he speedily arose and proceeded to the left, in the direction of the voice. The whole night he continued to advance, but no one could he find; and when it was day, he sat down and rested till darkness again overspread the earth, when the same lamenting voice reached his ears. He started up, and continued his pursuit till at the dawn of day he arrived at a solitary spot, where he beheld a comely youth with his feet bare and his head uncovered, bitterly weeping and lamenting.
Hatim addressed the young man, saying, “My good friend, how came you to be alone in this wilderness, whose echoes resound to your cries; and who has sent you hither?” The youth in tears replied, “Generous Sir, I am by profession a soldier, and lately quitted my home in quest of service. On my journey I happened to lose my way, and on coming to a certain city, I asked the inhabitants, ‘What is the name of this city, and who is its sovereign?’ One of them told me, ‘This is the capital of Musâhhir, the magician;’ on hearing which, I became terrified, and immediately fled. After I had ridden the distance of a farasang from the city, I came to a garden, whose beauty charmed my heart; and dismounting from my steed, I entered this terrestrial paradise. I had not advanced more than three steps within the garden, when I beheld troops of damsels fair as Houris, and clothed in splendid apparel. I then discovered that I was in the garden of the zenana,* and reflecting that it was highly improper for me to enter such sacred precincts, which no man of real bravery would have done, I began to retrace my steps the way I came.
“When the women saw me, one of them ran and told her mistress that a young man was about to walk in the garden, but on discovering his mistake, had retired. On hearing this, the lady, who was none other than the daughter of Musâhhir the magician, instantly sent me a message requesting my attendance. I went, and the moment I beheld her fair countenance I became like one beside himself, and grew so faint that I had to lay hold of the garden gate for support. Her attendants seized me by the hands and conducted me to the midst of the garden, where I was seated upon a couch beside the magician’s daughter. This lady received me so kindly and smiled so sweetly, that she pierced my heart with the arrows of love. Bewildered, I contemplated her beautiful form as she sat by me.
“Meanwhile, who should arrive at the garden door but her father the magician; and when he saw my horse, he asked whose it was, and being informed of the whole affair by the attendants, he entered foaming with rage, when he beheld his daughter engaged in conversation with me, he seized her by the neck, and was about to dash her against the ground, but the lady appealed to his sense of justice as she was not guilty of any impropriety and begged of him first to make the strictest inquiry, and then inflict punishment, if due. The father checked his anger and withdrew his hands, when in the meantime the nurse addressed him, saying, ‘Oh, king! your daughter is now of age, and amongst your subjects there is none worthy of being her husband. The stranger you see here is just arrived: he seems of noble rank, and an honourable man; it were better then that you give him your daughter in marriage, for you will thus secure a noble successor. If however you put to death these two, who are perfectly free from crime, you will, on the one hand, set a ruinous example to your people; and, on the other hand you will stain yourself with the blood of the innocent.’
“On hearing this, Musahhir the magician said, ‘Daughter what think you of this proposal?’ The damsel replied, ‘As yet I have not been seen by any stranger, and as this traveller has happened to see me unveiled, I am willing to accept him.’— ‘Be it so,’ said her father; ‘but I have three conditions, and that man alone who can comply with them shall receive my daughter.’ I then ventured to address the magician, saying. ‘In that case I am ready to do whatever you command me.’ The magician then conducted to his capital, and admitted me into his hall of audience. He then summoned the grandees of his dominions, in whose presence he thus stated to me the three conditions on which I was to receive his daughter:
“‘The first condition is that you will procure me a pair of the animals called pariru.’
“‘The second is, that you will bring me the muhra (or pearl) which is in the mouth of the red dragon.’
“‘And the third is, that you will cast yourself into a large cauldron full of boiling oil, and if you come out unhurt you shall have my daughter.’
“To each of these I agreed, and immediately quitting the city, I wandered hither, were I am now exhausted with hunger and thirst, and pierced through the heart with the darts of the glances of a Houri. I am not able to return to my own country, and no friend has yet visited me by whose aid I might fulfil the conditions of the magician, and thus become entitled to the hand of his daughter, in this desert then, I have constantly strayed, weeping and lamenting since the time I left the city, which is now a period of two years.”
On hearing this statement, Hatim said to the young man, in condoling language, “Be of good cheer, for God willing, I will perform these three conditions for you, and will put you in possession of your mistress.” He then remembered the circumstance of jackals that had procured him the head of the pariru from the desert of Mazanderan and resolved to set out thither immediately. In short, Hatim took leave of the youth, and set out on his journey to Mazanderan. In the course of a few days he came to a certain city, around which along the walls and ditches the inhabitants had laid piles of dried wood, which they kept burning.
Hatim surprised, asked them, what was the cause of this conflagration “If,” said one of them, “we do not keep this fire constantly burning all around our outward walls, a monstrous demon will enter our city and devour us,”— “Pray” said Hatim, “what like is this evil being that so annoys you?”— “He is a large animal,” replied they, “frightful beyond description, and when he comes he devours three or four people at a time,” Hatim, on hearing this, began to consider how it would be practicable to free them from this calamity, and in the meantime he went to take some repose in the caravanserai,
He then caused a pit to be dug outside the city in the open plain, which he fenced round with bushes of thorn and piles of wood, and furnishing himself with a bow and quiver full of arrows he took up his post in that ambush about sunset. When about a watch of the night had passed, the approach of the monster was indicated with a noise like that of a tempest. When this formidable beast came nearer, he saw that it had eight feet and seven heads, of which six were like those of lions, and the remaining head resembling that of an elephant. The elephant head was situated in the middle, and had three eyes.
When Hatim was leaving the city, the inhabitants had given him a description of the monster, which he now found to be quite correct. They further told him that this terrific beast was vulnerable only on the middle eye of the elephant head, and if it were possible to hit that eye with an arrow, it would be the means of removing this calamity for then the monster would run off, and never approach a human abode. Meanwhile the inhabitants hearing him advance, kindled their fires all round the city, which become completely covered with a thick cloud of smoke. The monster moved round the walls, and continued to roar with all his mouths so fearfully loud that the city shook to its foundation. At length he approached the spot where Hatim lay concealed, and when the latter observed him, he placed his trust in Providence, and seizing his bow he took a deliberate aim at the central eye on the elephant-head, and pierced it with an arrow.
The monster reeled and fell with a crash upon the earth, and raised such a terrific roar that the city and the desert shook far and wide. He shortly after started up, and fled so swiftly towards the wilderness that he never looked behind him. Hatim spent the whole night without the walls, and when the dawn of morning appeared he re-entered the gates. The people crowded round him, and asked whether he had seen the demon, that he thus remained alive. He answered, “I have for ever expelled him from your territories.”— “How,” said they, “can we be certain of that?”— “You may soon satisfy yourselves on that score,” replied Hatim; “this night you can watch on the walls and battlements of the city, and if you here his sound, then shall you consider me as a teller of falsehood; and if, on the other hand, the sound shall not be heard, you will be convinced of my veracity.” To this they all agreed and acted accordingly, and when the night was over and all well, they quickly returned to Hatim and prostrated themselves at his feet, and conveyed him in triumph to the residence of their governor, who received him with the utmost courtesy and respect, seating him by his side, and treating him with boundless hospitality. The people of the city, and particularly the governor, speedily brought all their wealth in cash and valuable effects, and offered it to Hatim, who said to them, “I am a poor traveller, and I am not the least desirous of such wealth as you offer me.” They all requested him to accept of their bounty, and do with it what he thought proper.”
Hatim accepted the gold and property which they thus pressed upon him, and bestowed the whole of it on the fakirs, and poor people of the city. He then took leave of the inhabitants, and set out his journey to Mazanderan. As he was journeying onwards, what does he see but a black snake in deadly contest with a weasel. He stood for some time looking on, while neither of the animals seemed to have the advantage. At length he shouted out, “Vile reptiles! what is the cause of this deadly contest between you?” The snake replied, “My opponent here has slain my father.” The weasel added, “Snakes are the natural food of my species, and therefore I killed his father, and will kill him also, that I may eat him.” Hatim addressed the weasel, saying, “If flesh be thy desire say the word, and I shall give it thee from off my own dody:” and to the snake he said. “If revenge be thy object, slay me instead of the weasel.” Both of them, on hearing this, ceased from their struggle. The weasel said to Hatim, “As you have offered me your flesh, give it me.”— “What part of me,” asked Hatim, “do your desire.”— “Your cheek,” replied the weasel.
Hatim seized a knife, and was about to cut off the flesh from his cheek, when the weasel cried aloud. “Desist, young man, I merely did this to try your firmness, and now I am convinced of your generosity. Immediately both of them assumed the appearance of men. When Hatim saw this, he asked them, “My good friends, what wonderful occurence is this?” The weasel replied, “We are both of us of the race of the genii, and I confess I have slain his father; but the reason is, that I fell desperately in love with the old man’s daughter, and he refused his assent to our marriage. The brother, as you see, bears deadly hatred towards me, and I must kill him in salf-defence.” Hatim addressing the genii, recommended to them peace and amity on both sides, and proffered that each should marry the other’s sister. The genius that had been in the form of a weasel replied, “My father who is king of the genii, will never agree to such a proposal.”— “Let me be shewn to his presence,” requested Hatim, “and I may induce him to be satisfied.”— “Follow me, then,” said the genius, “and you shall soon be in my father’s court.’ After they had thus walked together for some distance, they arrived at a spacious city, where the prince told Hatim, “This is my father’s capital, I must part with you here, in order to proceed to my own residence but my attendants will take you by the hand, and conduct you to my father’s presence.”
Troops of genii approached Hatim accordingly, and ushered him before their sovereign, whose name was Mahyur. When his Majesty saw Hatim, he said to him, “Stranger of the race of Adam, what important affair has brought you into my capital?”— “I have come,” said he “for promoting peace and friendship.”— “How” rejoined the king, “can any of the human race act so friendly a part towards the genii; and what is the nature of this service with which you are to favour us?”— “You have a son,” continued Hatim; “may I ask whether you wish his life to be spared, or are resolved on his death?” “Truly,” replied Mahyur, “I have a son but what then?”— “If you love him,” said Hatim in return; follow my advice and his life may be saved; otherwise death will soon overtake him.”— “May the divine favour be upon you,” rejoined the king of the genii; “tell me what is the matter, that my son is in danger of his life?”— “He has slain the father of a certain youth by name Bahram,” said Hatim, “and the latter bears hatred towards him on that account, and will certainly slay him: to-day I saw them in deadly contest and your son’s life would have been short indeed had I not by main force parted them. Another day they will again meet, and the result will be fatal; but if you obey my directions, I may be the means of establishing peace between them, The case is this: your son is enamoured of Bahram’s sister, and has even slain her father because he refused his consent to their union; and on the other hand, Bahram is in love with your daughter. It is requisite then, in order to do away all grounds of hatred on either side, that you bestow your daughter on Bahram, and induce his sister to marry your son.”
Mahyur expressed the highest satisfaction with Hatim’s proposal; and accordingly summoned his son and Bahram into his presence where Hatim succeeded in making them friends. When each of the lovers was in possession of his mistress, Hatim went to take leave of Mahyur, who said to him at parting, “Brave sir! accept of something from us as a reward for your kindness.”— “I have never yet taken a reward,” replied Hatim, “for discharging the duties of humanity.”— “Generous Hatim!” rejoined the king of the genii, “accept from me this staff as a token of esteem; it may be of use to you. When you hold it erect in your hand, it becomes possessed of some rare qualities; for instance, if a serpent or scorpion sting you, their venom shall have no effect, and the fire shall have no power over you. If any one assail you with magic, turn round the staff, and the enchantment will be of no avail. In particular, the poison of the red dragon can have no power over you. Accept at the same time this talisman, and whenever you behold a serpent, whether red, or black, or green, or white, place the talisman in your mouth, and you will be safe. Again, when you come to a river, throw the staff into the water, and it will instantly become a boat.”
Hatim having taken the talisman and the staff, bade adieu to the king of the genii, and proceeded on his journey to Mazanderan. As he was advancing day and night, he arrived at the banks of a large river. While standing upon the shore he beheld the waves rising to the clouds, and by their buffeting lashing the stars of heaven. He looked in all directions for a place where he might cross; and when he was in this consideration, he recollected the staff presented to him by Mahyur the king of the genii. He immediately seized it in his right hand, and threw it amidst the billows whereupon the staff was changed into a boat, in which he embarked and began to make his way across. After he had sailed about half way, a huge nihang espied him, and ran off with himself and his boat. Hatim resigned his soul to the will of fate, and was waiting the result with patience, till at length after they had traversed the deep for the space of seven farasangs, his feet rested on firm ground. There he opened his eyes, and was surprised on hearing the nihang address him in eloquent language, thus: “Oh, Hatim! I have brought thee into this place that thou mightest render me justice.” Hatim said, “What justice do you require?” To this the nihang replied, “The crab* has unlawfully deprived me of my place of residence; my wish is that you will put me in possession of what is my right.” Hatim rejoined, “Is it possible that the crab is more powerful than you?” To this the nihang replied “Sluggish as he may appear, he is able to crush me into pieces between his claws; at present he is abroad somewhere in quest of food and I have in the meantime brought you hither.”
Hatim humbly placed his reliance on his Creator, well aware that of himself he could do nothing; when, lo! the crab, which was of immense size, made his appearance, whereupon the nihang immediately fled. The crab slowly approached; and when he saw the flight of the nihang, he raised such a noise as shook the earth, so that Hatim himself was terrified, and devoutly prayed that Providence might deliver him from the evil that threatened him. He speedily took in his hand the charmed staff presented to him by Mahyur, on beholding which, the crab remained still where he was. Hatim then addressed the monstrous animal, saying, “Know you not that the oppressor shall fall by his own deceit; why then do you injure the nihang? Is there not room sufficient for both of you in this river, that you should forcibly take possession of another’s residence?” To this the crab replied, “The nihang and I are of the same genus, what then has one of the human race to say in any contention that may take place between us!— “There is some truth in your statement,” said Hatim, “but all creatures have their being from God, who delighteth in justice and punisheth the oppressor: if you fear him then, injure not a fellow creature.”— “Well,” replied the crab, “at present I shall quit this place, rather than argue the point with you; but I shall meet the nihang on some future day, when you are not at hand to lend your aid.”— “Assuredly you are a mischievous animal,” rejoined Hatim; “but if you value your own life, abandon this place for ever.” The crab, on hearing this, rushed upon Hatim, and was about to seize him in his claws; but he struck him such a blow with the charmed staff of the genius that his attack was rendered fruitless. The monstrous animal turned round and fled, and the nihang taking courage began to pursue him, whereupon Hatim called out to the latter. “Desist, for to pursue him now is cowardly, as his weapons are powerless; he will never hereafter annoy you, and if you oppress him I shall put an end to your days.”
In short. Hatim having settled the plea between the two inhabitants of the deep, threw down his staff, in which (being turned into a boat) he embarked, and having reached the opposite shore of the water, he continued his journey to Mazanderan. At length he arrived in that extensive wilderness, and reclining in the shade of a tree he began to consider what would be the best way of procuring the pariru. When the darkness of night had fallen around him, several of the birds in question that had been abroad in search of food came and perched upon the tree, and thus began to converse among themselves: “Our solitary abode is visited by name Hatim ben Tai; the object of his journey is to relieve the distressed: what then are we to do?” All of them concurred in saying, “Hatim is a man of the noblest disposition, he must not therefore leave us in disappointment.” Having come to this resolution, the animals assembled in a body around Hatim, and in humble posture began to embrace his feet. When he saw their wonderful form he was highly astonished; for each of them resembled an angel in beauty of countenance. Fascinated with the charms of their fairy faces, he could not avoid exclaiming, “Gracious heaven! how inscrutable are thy decrees, who hast formed such creatures with bodies like those of birds, and countenances fair as the Huris of paradise.”
Meanwhile the animals, addressing Hatim in sweet flowing language, said to him, “Oh, Hatim! may the fame of your generosity be enternal, you have subjected yourself to toils and perils for the sake of others. We know the cause of your journey hither: a certain youth has become enamoured of the magician’s daughter; the father gives his consent on certain conditions, one of which is, that he may have a pair of our species, and you, regardless of danger, have come hither on that account.”— “You say truly,” replied Hatim, “and if you will allow me to take a pair of your young, it will be doing me the highest favour; and it will also promote the suit of the desparing love.” The animals deliberated among themselves, saying, “Those of us that are fully grown cannot be expected to go with this man: who is it then among us that will present him with a pair of young ones; it will be a service acceptable to God.”
Here one of the pariru birds said to Hatim: “Lo, I myself will give you a pair of my own young, for the sake of that Being who bestoweth all things; accept them, and take them with you wherever you please.” Hatim joyfully received the young birds; and having passed the night in that desert, he early next morning took leave of these wonderful creatures, and began to retrace his way to the capital of the magician. In the course of time, after he had traversed mountains and desert innumerable, he arrived at the spot where the young soldier still lingered; and having presented to him the pariru birds, he said, “Rejoice, my friend, for here you see what will fulfil one of the magician’s conditions.” When the youth beheld the birds, he prostrated himself in ecstacy at Hatim’s feet, saying, “My generous benefactor! let us now proceed with these beautiful birds and present them to the magician,” Both of them set out accordingly, and by the way Hatim related to his friend the occurrences of his journey, and the situation of the desert of Mazanderan; and having handed to him the pariru birds, he desired him to go himself and deliver them to Musahhir, and mention nothing of having been assisted in procuring them.
When they entered the city Hatim stopped at caravanserai, and the youth proceeded with the birds, and delivered them to the magician, who was much surprised in seeing them, and questioned him, saying, “Young man, is this your own doing? If so, tell me truly in what part of the world are such birds to be found?” The youth, without hesitation, replied, “In the desert of Mazanderan.” The magician then asked him various particulars about the road thither, all of which he was enabled to answer satisfactorily from what Hatim had told him. “You are right,” said the magician; “so much for the first condition. Now procure me the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon.” The youth said, in reply, “Let me for one moment view the face of her whom I adore, for otherwise I shall not have even the power of moving.” To this the magician agreed, and sent a message to his daughter, desiring her to hold her head out at the window, and favour her lover with one look. The young man, in transports, presented himself under her window, and the lady leaning out her head as permitted, cheered him with her smiles. After they had viewed each other with the looks of affection, the youth said, “Now I am about to depart in quest of the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon; can you inform me where it is to be found?”— “I have heard,” replied the lady, “that it is in the Red desert, which is in the regions of the mountain Kaf.”
The youth, on hearing this, took leave of his beloved, and hastened to Hatim, to whom he communicated all that had passed. Hatim conforted him, and said, “Cease your weeping and lamentation, for I will use every exertion for your relief: may God preserve you till my return.” Having thus spoken, Hatim parted with his friend and commenced his journey to the mountain of Kaf. After he had passed many a stage he arrived in a wilderness, where he one day at dawn espied a dragon streaked with the seven colours of the rainbow, and having wings like those of an eagle, with which he hovered in all directions over the desert.
On beholding this terrific sight, Hatim stood aghast, while he said in his heart, “I have ere now traversed deserts and mountains like those around me; but such a creature as this I never saw before: I must keep a strict watch on his movements, in order, if possible, to discover his haunt.” Hatim followed the dragon for the whole of that day, and at eve the winged monster took refuge in the cleft of a rock near which Hatim also rested, resolved to observe the proceedings of so wonderful a creature. In that same neighbourhood there was a village, the inhabitants of which were then coming out for water to a fountain close by the rock. When they saw Hatim they discovered that he was a stranger, and hospitably offered him bread and water, on which he fared, and on their inviting him to their village, he said he preferred resting for the night beneath a tree close by.
Meanwhile the people returned to their dwellings, leaving their cows and flocks at pasture on the verdant plain that lay at the foot of the rock, where the shepherds also remained to tend them for the night. At the end of the first watch, however, the winged serpent issued from his haunt and rushing upon the cattle, he speedily killed them all, one after another, with his venomous sting; nor did his devastation there stop short, for on the same nigh the destroyed two troops of horses belonging to a caravan that had halted at the fountain. When Hatim saw this dreadful ravage he wrung his hands in the agony of grief; but, lo! the dragon still thirsting for blood, approached the tree where he stood, and in an instant stung to death those who watched the caravan, and the shepherds that were in attendance; after which, he again vanished into the hole in the rock.
Hatim spent the remainder of the night in a state of sorrow and amazement; and when the dawn of day appeared, the villagers came out to look after their flocks but to their astonishment they beheld the plain strewed with the dead bodies of the shepherds and the carcases of their cows and horses. So deadly was the venom of this destructive monster, that by the dawn of day the flesh was completely dissolved from off the bones, and converted into a liquid of green colour. One of the people speedily conveyed the mournful tidings to the village, whereupon all the inhabitants came out crying and weeping. On seeing Hatim they addressed him, saying “Tell us, stranger, how come you to be here alive, and how has this terrible catastrophe taken place?”— “Alas! my friends,” replied Hatim, “here I have witnessed most horrible deeds, such as I never beheld, or even heard of in my whole life. A seven-coloured dragon, large as an eagle, has committed this slaughter, after which he retired into a hole in the rock, where you may still see him.”
The people accordingly gathered round the mouth of the cavern, and on seeing the dragon they were terrified, and said to one another, “Truly such a formidable animal as this we never yet beheld.” Meanwhile the deadly dragon rushed from his hole in the rock and seizing the chief of the village he pierced him with his envenomed sting till he rolled in the dust and bade adieu to life, amidst the shrieks and tears of his friends and attendants. The dragon then winged his way slowly towards the desert, and Hatim followed close after him, in order to see what might happen next. For the whole of that day he continued his pursuit, and when evening was nigh the dragon halted near a large city while Hatim watched him from a short distance. But wonderful to relate, the dragon had no sooner touched the ground than he was transformed into a black snake, while Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, anxious to know what was to be the result of this change. The black serpent in the meantime coiled himself into a hole till about the end of the first watch of the night, when he issued out and made direct for the city, whither Hatim continued to follow. At length the serpent arrived at the walls of the king’s palace, which he entered by a certain staircase, and ere Hatim could follow returned by the same passage, and made for another house. In a very short time the serpent came out of the latter house also, and quitting the city, retired to his hole. Hatim wondered in his own mind who could have been the victims of that scourge for the night; but with the morning certainty came, for the cries and lamentations of the people soon informed him that the prince and vizier’s son were in the course of the night stung to death by a serpent, and now lay streched on the bier, and were being conveyed to their graves.
In the course of the morning the black snake quitted his hole, and made off in another direction, Hatim all along following, nor for the whole day did he cease his pursuit, till towards night the serpent came to the bank of a river, where he instantly assumed the form of a lion. It happened that close by there was a village, the inhabitants of which, to the number of ten or twelve, were then proceeding, one after the other, to the river to draw water, and among them a most comely youth of the age of sixteen. This youth, the flower of the village, the lion seized upon as his victim, and having torn him to pieces, he again made for the desert, where, to Hatim’s utter amazement, he was transformed into a beautiful damsel of fourteen years of age. When Hatim beheld the damsel, he said in his heart, “May heaven protect me, I wonder what is to happen next.”
But to return to the damsel: she in an instant arrayed herself in splendid apparel and costly jewels, and thus resembling the full moon in beauty, she sat down underneath a tree that stood by the way side. It happened that shortly after two brother soldiers natives of China, who having completed their stipulated period of service were returning loaded with wealth to their own country, passed that way, and on seeing them the damsel commenced a most piteous lamentation. When this voice of sorrow reached their ears, the elder of the two brothers approached the tree, and to his astonishment there beheld the most beautiful of women deeply affected with sorrow and grief. The soldier thus addressed the damsel: “Fairest of women, what calamity has befallen thee that thou art thus forsaken to weep and lament in the solitary desert?”— “I am,” replied the damsel, “the wife of a certain villager: a few days ago I had gone on a visit to my mother’s house, and in returning home along with my husband we lost our way in this wilderness, where I have since wandered. I have not been able to find the way back to my mother’s house, nor do I know in what direction to proceed in quest of my husband or of my own home. Whither my husband is gone heaven only knows; and now what is to become of me, and how am I to live?” The brave soldier, on hearing this sad detail, said to the young woman, “If I were to offer myself as your husband, would you accept me?”— “If you will agree to my three conditions,” answered the damsel, “I will instantly give you my hand. The first condition is, that you shall have no other wife* than myself; the second, that I will be exempt from all household services; and the third is, that you are not to reprimand me for anything I may choose to do.” To this the soldier agreed, saying “I am as yet unmarried, and I solemnly promise to comply with one and all of your conditions. While I live I shall have no other wife but you; and in my house there are slaves male and female in abundance, so that you will have no trouble with the household affairs, except to give orders for whatever you wish. Your last condition I believe is superfluous: is it possible that any man can speak harshly to her whom he loves?” The damsel, on hearing this, replied, “Enough said, I will accept you, as my husband,” and accordingly they joined hands; after which the soldier mounted his steed, and taking up his new wife behind him, they departed. Hatim still followed, in order to see the end of these strange occurrences, and when they had gone some distance, the woman said to her husband “I am quite exhausted with hunger and thirst, having tasted no food for the last three days; if you have nothing eatable with you, at least let me have a drink of water.” The soldier immediately dismounted, and having caused his wife to alight, he seated her under the shade of a tree, and leaving his brother in attendance, he took a pitcher in his hand and went in search of water.
The woman watched the movements of her husband till he went to a considerable distance; and then addressing the younger brother, she said, “Know, fair youth, that I have accompanied your brother solely out of my affection for you, for since the moment I saw you I have lost of all control over my heart; now is the time then, make me your own.” The younger soldier, surprised, said to her, in reply. “Are you not my brother’s wife? To me you are as nearly related as a mother or sister; how highly improper then is this your proposal, to which, be assured, I will never agree.”— “What you state,” rejoined the woman, “would have been true were I really your brother’s wife, for then any claim to your affection would have been wrong in me.”— “My dear sister,” interrupted the soldier, “form no such unworthy expectations of me, and banish from your heart such extravagant thoughts.”
The woman thus disappointed, at last said to him, “Well, if you consent not, I will have my revenge, and the moment your brother returns I shall say to him that you attempted to force me to do what was improper.”— “Say what you please,” returned the soldier, “only rest assured that nothing on earth would induce me to comply with your wishes.” During the whole of this conversation Hatim remained in concealment close by and was a kin spectator of the occurrence. Meanwhile the elder brother made his appearance at a distance with the pot full of water in his hand; and when the woman saw him, she began to tear her hair and disfigure her countenance with her nails, and having spread dust upon her head, she set up a most piteous lament. Her husband hearing her cries, hastened to her relief, and said, “Why, my beloved, do you weep, and for what cause have you scattered dust upon your head? Has any one dared to offer you violence?” To this the woman replied, “Oh, my husband! my the Lord have mercy on you and your brother both! Has it ever been heard of that any man has left his wife with such a libertine as your brother is? To-day, when you were absent for water, to God alone I owed the preservation of my honour. This base man attempted to involve me in disgrace and ruin; he seized me by the hand, and was about to offer me violence, but I resisted with all my might, and although I cried for help, there was no one to aid me. He had also the impudence to tell me that he would be a more suitable husband to me than you are; that I am only fourteen years of age, and that he is himself a youth, while you, on the other hand, are old and feeble. He further declared that for his love towards me he would slay you the first opportunity; and in short, he was forcibly dragging me aside when he beheld your approach, and quitting his hold, he stood by me as you now see him.”
When the elder brother heard this statement he was highly enraged, and said to the other, “Base coward! did ever man attempt such conduct towards a mother or sister as you have this day followed?” Although the younger brother swore to his innocence, yet his words were not credited, and he only received the most bitter abuse in return. The elder brother drew his sword from the sheath, and assailed the younger, who in his turn was compelled to draw his own sword in self-defence. They fought till both fell dead on the same spot, and resigned their souls to God the giver. The fiendish woman having accomplished this ruin, made for the nearest village; and Hatim still continued his pursuit, wondering in his own mind who should be the next victim of this hellish scourge. When the woman arrived at the village, she assumed the form of a buffalo, and the people having attempted to seize her, she slew several of them with her hoofs and horns, and again fled towards the desert.
Filled with wonder, Hatim closely followed this mysterious being, and when arrived in the midst of the desert, lo! the buffalo was transformed into a venerable old man with a white beard. On seeing this last change, Hatim resolved to accost the old man, and ask him the hidden cause of his evil deeds, and why he delighted in working such havoc among God’s creatures. He accordingly made up to him at a rapid pace, and stood by his side. The aged man turned round, and said to him, “Speak, Hatim, whatever you wish to say.”— “Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “how came you to know my name?”— “If that be all,” replied the old man, “I know the name of every individual in your tribe; but at present, if you have any question to ask me make haste, for I have much business in hand and my time is precious.”
Hatim, without more delay, said to him, “Mysterious being! I first beheld you in the shape of a dragon, when you filled with sorrow a whole village; you afterwards assumed the form of a black snake, when you laid in the dust the son of the king and that of his minister; again, you transformed yourself into a lion, and tore to pieces a youth the most elegant of form; you then became a beautiful damsel of the age of fourteen, and by your perfidy caused the death of two brothers: your next step was to adopt the shape of a buffalo and you slew the people of the village; you now appear an aged man: tell me, for heaven’s sake, what are you, and whither are you going?” The old man, with a haughty smile, replied, “What does all this concern you? Follow your own business: you also I shall yet visit in some shape or other, and your death will be the consequence.”
Hatim persisted, saying, “I will never quit my hold of your skirt till you clear up to me this mystery.”— “Know, then,” said the old man, “I am the angel of death; the first day you saw me in the shape of a dragon, it was the decree of the Almighty that those men and beasts that were my victims should meet their death by that means. Providence had foreordained that the young prince and the son of the minister should die by the sting of a serpent, and I accordingly assumed the form of a serpent. I became a lion, and slew the beautiful youth such was his fate. As to the two brothers, they were destined to leave their homes and serve abroad, and after a certain period, when they had earned and amassed some money, it was ordained that they should proceed on their return to their own country, and in the course of their journey that they should kill one another on account of a woman; I therefore assumed the form of a woman to fulfil the divine decree. In the village where you last saw me, it was the lot of the people whom I slew to fall by a buffalo, I therefore became a buffalo on that occasion. Be you assured, oh, Hatim! that it is not in the power of one man to slay another; but in whatever way a man’s fate is decreed, by that means only he loses his life.” Hatim, on hearing this, asked the angel of death, “Tell me truly what fate is ordained for me?” The aged man replied, “Suffice it to say the more than half your life-time is yet to pass,”— “But,” rejoined Hatim, “may I not learn from you the whole truth?”— “Know, then,” replied the king of terrors, “that when you have attained the age of two hundred years, you shall fall by the hand of Omnipotence. A stream of blood shall flow from your nostrils, by which you will experience some slight pain, and afterwards for a short time recover. In that period your hand shall be stretched out as usual in deeds of charity towards your fellow creatures; and shortly after, the flux of blood shall again issue from your nostrils, and thus you shall die. Meanwhile a long life is before you; go on, then, and shrink not from your noble task of relieving the sorrows and promoting the happiness of mankind.”
When Hatim heard all this, he bent his head to the dust in prayer to God, and when he arose, he looked around him, but the old man had vanished from his sight. He then betook himself to the prosecution of his journey towards the Red Desert, and in the course of a few months he found himself far beyond the habitations of men, in the midst of a wilderness where no water was to be found. Hungry and thirsty as he was, he still continued his route, his whole subsistence consisting of the wild fruits and weeds of the desert. In this way he journied for some time, when, lo! one day, to his utter astonishment, he came to a place where the heavens and the earth wore a dark hue, and every object he saw was black. This place was the abode of the black serpents, which, when they scented Hatim, rushed upon him from all quarters in order to devour him. He threw upon the ground the talismanic staff of Mahyur the genius, and sat down up it, safe by its magic power. The serpents continued to rear their crests, and with a hissing noise move round him in endless contortions for the whole night. When daylight appeared, he took his staff in his hand, and continued his march secure from the venom of the snakes, and thus he journied on till he reached the boundaries of the land of darkness. Contiguous to this lay the white regions, which Hatim began to explore. Here every object was possessed of the most brilliant whiteness, so that the whole place seemed to be made of alabaster. At the same time white serpents of prodigious size endeavoured from a distance to inhale him with their poisonous breath, but on account of his charmed staff their efforts were of no avail, nor had they the power of approaching him. In the course of a few days, Hatim succeeded in making his way through those dangerous realms, and next arrived in a region where every object he beheld was green as emerald. There, too, abounded serpents of a green colour, and when they saw Hatim they quickly surrounded him, and were it not for the virtue of his talisman, his days would have been but short. Hatim however, unhurt, surmounted a thousand perils and difficulties as he journied through the evergreen regions, and at length he arrived in an extensive tract of land, which to him seemed to be all wrapt in flames, and this he knew to be the Red Desert.
There every object was red as vermillion, and ere Hatim had advanced many steps the heat became so intolerable that he almost lost the power of walking. He thought within his heart that it would be impossible to proceed any further; but, again, he said to himself: “Oh, Hatim! in doing a good action, whatever happens let it come, even were the difficulties a thousand times more severe than the present.” By the time he had advanced about a farasang his feet were full of blisters, and his thirst was so excessive that he was compelled to rest almost at every step he took.
“Now,” thought Hatim, “my dying hour is at last come; if I wished to return, I have not even the power; and if I advance, I shall assuredly perish. But at the same time I cannot live here, for death would be preferable.” Having made this resolution, he continued to move slowly onwards, till by the time he had advanced another farasang, he became so exhausted, and his thirst was so excessive, that he sunk upon the ground and lay like one dead, his whole body being covered with large blisters.
While he lay senseless in this state, an aged man came up to him, and seizing his hand, raised him from the earth, and said to him, “Oh, Hatim! here you have no cause for dispair; why do you not avail yourself of the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter?” Hatim recollected his scattered senses, and speedily producing the said talisman he put it in his mouth, which was no sooner done than the heat of the Red Desert ceased to oppress him, and the blisters instantly became whole on his body. Hatim then prostrated himself at the feet of his aged monitor, and said, “Most venerable sir, tell me what is the cause of this excessive heat?” The old man replied, “This heat is caused by the red serpents that haunt the desert. They are of immense size, and from their mouths they breathe volumes of flame and clouds of smoke, hence the fiery hue of every object you behold.” Hatim however, secure under the effects of his talisman which he carried in his mouth, went fearlessly on, and felt not the least inconvenience from the scorching heat.
When he had penetrated as far as the centre of the Red Desert, the fire breathing serpents espied him, and began to rear their heads and crests aloft like tall tress. From their nostrils issued streams of flame as it were from a furnace and with tremendous hissing they assailed him on all sides, intending to scorch him to death, and reduce his bones to ashes; but owing to the charmed muhra of the bear’s daughter, the attack of the snakes fell upon Hatim like a current of cool water. Meanwhile the serpents increased in number, and were about to overpower him with their pestiferous and scorching breath, which continued to pour upon him like streams of lightning. He at last threw upon the ground the magic staff of Mahyur, the king of the genii, and such was its wonderful effect, that when he stood on it no snake could come within reach of him. The serpents overawed, remained at a distance; and notwithstanding their utmost efforts for the whole of that night, they were not able to do him the least harm. When daylight appeared, Hatim observed that the largest of the red serpents had in its mouth the muhra or pearl which he wished to procure, but never allowed it to drop upon the ground. He took his magic staff, and aiming it at the head of the serpent, struck it such a blow as made it recoil upon itself and roll amidst the dust. There the snake lay stunned till the sun arose, when it revived, it dropping the muhra, slowly dragged itself to its den. Hatim quikly ran to take up his treasure: but from its brilliant appearance he hesitated to lay hold of it, thinking that it was hot as fire. He stood for some time viewing the muhra, and at length he tore a piece of cloth from his turban, and by way of experiment placed it upon the shining jewel. When he observed that the cloth was not burnt, he ventured to take the muhra in his hand, and carefully wrapped it in a fold of his turban.
The moment Hatim had the muhra in his possession, he was surprised in finding that the heat of the desert no longer remained and the objects around him assumed a verdent hue. Now this muhra was possessed of the rarest qualities, to the number of a thousand and one, of which we may mention the following: the first was, that the possessor of it should never be drowned; the second, that he should be secured from any bad effects of fire; the third quality that was inherent in this pearl was, that it restored sight to the blind; the fourth, that it cured the bite of a snake or any other venomous creature; the fifth, he who had it with him in war was sure of obtaining victory; the sixth, he should be endeared alike to friend and foe; the seventh, all four-footed and winged animals should be obedient to his commands; the eighth was, that he should excel in wisdom; the ninth, that his wealth should be boundless; but it would be tedious to detail the whole.
In fine, Hatim returned with the muhra, and in the course of time came to the place where he left the young soldier. He saluted him, and resigning the precious treasure into his hands, he said to him, “Go now and present this to the magician.” The young man prostrated himself at the feet of Hatim, and the latter having raised him up, related to him all the occurrences of his journey, and described to him the regions of the serpents. The two friends then proceeded together to the capital of the magician, and the youthful soldier having obtained an interview of his Majesty, presented him with the muhra, in the procuring of which, he stated, that he had undergone a thousand toils, and encountered perils innumerable. “That,” replied the magician, “I shall soon put to the proof,”— “With all my heart,” said the youth; and accordingly the magician commenced a strict inquiry respecting the Red Desert, the serpents, &c., all of which the soldier answered to his satisfaction.
The magician, highly delighted with the treasure he thus possessed, said to the young man, “There now remains only one task to be accomplished, which is that you will plunge naked into the midst of a cauldron full of boiling oil; are you prepared to comply with the same?” The youth having replied in the affirmative, the magician issued orders to his people to place the large iron cauldron on the furnace, fill it with oil, and with a strong fire heat the same till it boiled. The attendants of the magician immediately executed this order, and so heated the oil that if a stone were cast into it, it would have instantly become dissolved. Meanwhile the soldier returned to Hatim, and said to him, “Alas, my benefactor! I have yet to fulfil the severest of his Majesty’s conditions. He expects me to cast myself into a cauldron full of boiling oil, and if I come out unhurt, I am to be honoured with the hand of his daughter. But, I would ask you, is it in the power of mortal man to undergo such an ordeal, and escape with life?”
“Be not disheartened,” said Hatim; “even in this conjuncture I can ensure your success.” He then produced the talisman of the bear, and presenting it to the young soldier, he said to him, “Take this muhra in your mouth, and you may without the least dread or hesitation cast yourself into the boiling liquid.” The youth, still incredulous, shuddered at the idea; and Hatim swore to him by all that was sacred that he should come by no harm. The soldier at length took the talisman as advised, and having ascended the steps that led to the mouth of the boiler, he looked at the burning liquid foaming furiously like a troubled sea, and all firmness left his heart. Hatim then cried out to him, “Are you a man that you should thus tremble; and is such fear of life consistent with the flame of your love?” When the young soldier heard this from Hatim, he hesitated no longer, but shutting his eyes he threw himself into the midst of the boiler. To his surprise, the oil that had been heated to the utmost had no more effect upon him than cool water. He walked slowly from one side of the boiler to the other, and in presence of the magician began to lift in his hands the fiery liquid and sprinkle it on his body. When some time had elapsed, the soldier thus addressed the magician, “Most mighty king, what say you now? Shall I came out or remain here for a longer space?” When the king saw that the soldier still lived, he held down his head in thoughtfulness and a trembling seized his soul, as he said, “Young man, I am satisfied; come out with all speed.” But no sooner had the soldier accomplished this third task, than the magician, unwilling to fulfil his promise, began to assail him with enchantment. Hatim, however, came to his assistance, and warned the king of the magicians, saying, “Your arts are of no effect upon this youth, for he has a talisman more potent than the muhra of the red serpent; you must therefore comply with what you have promised to him.” In short, the magician, thus surpassed in his art, embraced the young soldier as a sign of friendship, and having made the necessary preparations, gave him his daughter in marriage, and with the utmost suavity said to him, “Now, my son, you are to consider all my wealth as your own, for I have no other male heir on whom to bestow it.”
When Hatim saw the two lovers united in wedlock, he took leave of the happy bridegroom and departed in prosecution of his journey. In the course of time he arrived at the foot of the mountain Alka, which was so high that none of the feathered tribes had wings sufficient to reach its summit. There he halted for a moment, in order to consider what course to take, and said in his heart, “Of whom can I receive information respecting this strange place, and who shall direct me on my way?” While these reflexions occupied his mind, he espied a troop of beautiful fairies tripping along the brow of the mountain, and without further delay he ollowed them. After he had traced the fairies to some distance up the hill, they suddenly disappeared and left him in solitude. Hatim, astonished, looked around him, and saw in the side of the mountain a cave, which seemed to be formed from a solid rock of marble. The entrance into it was a steep descent into the bowels of the earth along the marble rock, which was as smooth as glass. Hatim hesitated whether he should enter, as egress seemed to be impossible; for no human foot could rest upon this steep and slippery path.
On further consideration, however, Hatim resolved to enter; and having laid himself upon the smooth stone, he quitted his hold and commenced his rapid descent. For the whole of that day he continued to slide downwards, and at evening he found himself landed on level ground. There he opened his eyes, and beheld around him an extensive field delightful to the sight. He rose up and sought a place wherein to repose till day, when he resolved to go in quest of the fairies, as he had reason to suppose that they too had descended into the cave. When the darkness of night had withdrawn, Hatim began to traverse those strange regions, and he had not gone far when an edifice of splendid appearance met his view. This was nothing less than the palace of the fairies, and thither he directed his steps. When he approached the mansion, the fairies observed him, and cried out, “Are you aware, son of Adam, that these are our regions, and not your’s? how came you here, and who has been your conductor?”— “He who has ever been my guide,” replied Hatim, “conducted me hither.”— “And how,” rejoined the fairies, “did you discover the descent into this subterraneous abode?”— “I saw you,” he replied, “as you passed along the mountain, and followed you till you vanìshed from my sight; on searching around me, however, I observed the entrance into the cave, and laying myself on the smooth inclined stone, my descent was rapid. Now that I have found you, tell me what is the name of this region, and who is its sovereign?”
“This,” replied the fairies, “is the mountain of Alka, and the sovereign of these realms is Alkanpari. We are the guardians of this paradise, where our fairy queen resides during the season of spring, and to-morrow we expect her arrival here to enjoy the delights of the garden. Our permitting you to remain then is impossible, for it would be death both to ourselves and you; but now that you are here you must be ruled by us, and we will save your life, for we bear you no enmity.” To this Hatim gave answer, saying, “Whither can I flee for refuge, for verily there is no escape; and besides, I have undergone all the toils and perils of my journey in order to obtain an interview with your queen, who is now so opportunely about to visit this garden; I will therefore remain here, happen what will.”— “And what,” said the fairies, “may be your business with our gracious queen? You are a poor man, and she is sovereign of the fairy realms.”— “Have you never heard,” replied Hatim, “of a fairy’s being in love with one of the human race, or of a man’s being enamoured of a fairy?”— “In truth,” rejoined the fairies, “you seem to be weary of your own life, to utter such language in our presence,”— “You may judge,” said Hatim, “how little I care for my life by my venturing hither.”
On hearing this reply, all the fairies rushed upon Hatim and began to assail him; but he stood firm, and neither warded off nor returned their blows. His assailants ceased from their attack, and wondered in their own minds what sort of a man he was that would neither fight nor run away: they therefore, relenting, said to him, “Strange youth, we warn you, out of compassion, to remain no longer here; this place is not fitted for your residence, and if you disregard our advice, it will be at the risk of your own life.” To this Hatim replied, “I am not afraid of death, for I had washed my hands of life, and placed my reliance upon the Supreme Creator, ere I entered your territories.” The fairies, pleased with his courage, addressed Hatim in a tone of reconciliation, and said, “O youth, eloquent of speech, come with us and we shall conceal you in a secret avenue; and if you are anxious to behold our queen Alkanpari, we shall point her out to you from a distance.”
Hatim expressed his consent; and the fairies having conveyed him to an unfrequented part of the garden, gave him food and fruits wherewith to appease his hunger, and brought him water to drink. Charmed with his society, they crowded around him, and after various conversation, they said to him, “Tell us truly, brave youth, what has been the object of your journey hither?” Hatim replied, “My business with your queen is this: she once had an interview with a young friend of mine; and left him at a certain tree, with a promise that she would return to him in the space of seven days. The youth has now waited there upwards of seven years in expectation of the fulfilment of her promise; his soul is on the eve of quitting his body, and death is grasping him by the collar. At short intervals, he exclaims in a loud voice, ‘Come, Oh, come! for I can no longer endure thy absence.’ I happened to observe his miserable plight, and twice to no purpose I asked him the cause of his sorrow; at length, finding that I persisted in my inquiries, he told me the whole occurrence. On hearing his tale, my heart glowed with pity; and for the sake of affording him relief, I have journied hither. My object is to remind your queen of her promise, as it is most likely that she has ere now forgotten it.”
When the fairies heard this statement, they said to Hatim, “Generous man, we dare not take upon ourselves to represent your case to our queen, but we can carry you bound as captive before her, and then you can exert all your eloquence in behalf of your friend. Were we to introduce you designedly to her Majesty, it would most probably offend her, and we should incur her displeasure.”— “Let me be presented to your queen,” rejoined Hatim, “in whatever way is most convenient to you; when once in her presence, I shall know how it proceeds. I shall consider myself truly happy if I can promote the suit of my helpless and despairing friend.”
In the course of three days after, the queen, accompanied by troops of fairies, issued from her palace, and commenced her excursion into the garden where Hatim lay concealed. At length, she arrived in that paradise, and after she had rested a little, and received the homage of her subjects there, one of the fairies who were friendly to Hatim went to him privately, and said, “Come with me, and I will point out to you our queen, where you may behold her unobserved.” Hatim followed the fairy, who led him by a private path to the entrance of a grotto close to the spot where the queen was seated on her throne of gold. When Hatim beheld her angelic form, he lost hold of the reins of reason. For some time he lay senseless; and when consciousness returned into his frame, in vain did he betake himself to prayer, and endeavour to flee unto the Lord for protection. In fact, he became infinitely more frantic and more deeply enamoured of the beautiful fairy than the youth whose cause he had undertaken. Hatim thus spent three days and nights, forgetful of his friend, and regardless of food and drink. On the fourth night a feverish sleep overpowered his eyelids, and in his confused slumbers he heard a voice exclaiming, “Oh, Hatim! arise and know thyself; hast thou not devoted thy life to the service of thy Creator, and wilt thou now permit thyself to be guilty of a breach of trust?”
On hearing this warning voice, Hatim awoke from his dream, but saw no one near him. He rose up, and with fear and trembling prayed to God to forgive his transgressions, and support him in this hour of trial. On seeing some of the fairies, he entreated them to conduct him before the queen. They told him, as formerly, “We dare not openly comply with your request, but we can cary you into the royal presence with your hands bound as a prisoner.”— “In whatever way you choose,” said Hatim, “present me to her Majesty, that I may describe to her the condition of my despairing friend.” In short, the fairies made their arrangements, and having found a favourable moment when the queen was in a joyous mood, they approached her Highness by the garden gate; and one of them advancing, after due obeisance said, “O queen, one of the race of Adam has some how found his way to the gate of our paradise; we have bound him fast, and are waiting your Majesty’s pleasure as to his future disposal.”
On hearing this, the fairy queen thought of her lover, whom she had left under the tree, and considered it as likely that the youth had thus traced her to her abode; she therefore ordered her attendants to conduct their prisoner into her presence. The fairies accordingly laid hold of Hatim, and were bringing him forward to the foot of the throne. When the queen beheld his majestic mien, all thoughts of her former lover vanished. She desired him to approach, and having ordered for him a chair of burnished gold, she took him by the hand, and made him sit near her. The fairy queen then addressing Hatim, said, “Tell us, noble youth, whence came you, and what is your name; what has been your object in coming hither, and how have you been able to accomplish the journey?” Hatim now seated before the beautiful fairy, become speechless, and was unable to give any reply. The queen observed his confusion and secretly rejoiced to find that the arrow of her enchanting glances had pierced his heart. In the sweetest accents of extreme affection, she again said to him, “Brave youth what is the cause of your silence; have you nothing to say in reply?” Hatim, at length, rallied his thoughts, and said, “O queen, my answer is brief; I came from the country of Yemen, and my name is Hatim.”
The moment the queen heard this, she gracefully arose and taking Hatim by the hand, seated him on her own throne, saying, “I have ere now heard of Hatim, prince of Yemen; numerous indeed, brave prince, are the acts of kindness and generosity which you have done to your fellow creatures; but tell me now the cause of your coming hither and why have you undergone such toils and perils? Be assured that I am one of your admirers, so you may freely speak your thoughts without the least fear of giving offence.”
Hatim, thus encouraged, spoke: “O queen of the fairy realms, your kindness is beyond measure: had I a thousand tongues I should still be unable to celebrate your noble qualities. Be it known, then, that I have come before your Majesty in the fulfilment of a promise which I made to a certain enamoured swain. It happened, as I was journeying to the desert of Himyar, that I passed by a young man, from whose eyes flowed tears like a shower from the clouds in spring. Owing to his intense sorrow and bitter lamentation, his soul was almost driven from his body; indeed, I question if he now lives. There he lay with his eyes shut, exclaiming in the intervals of his sighs, ‘Come, Oh, come! for I can no longer endure thy absence.’ I asked him the cause of his sorrow, and how he had been reduced into so miserable a state. After some hesitation, he told me all; how your Majesty had met with him, and shewed him affection and kindness. ‘Alkanpari,’ said the wailing youth, ‘promised me at her departure to return in seven days; and now for seven long years I have waited in misery and woe, expecting her return. Here I cannot remain, and hence I dare not depart; for when my angel left me, she laid upon me strict injunctions to move not hence; I cannot, then, disobey her command and proceed in search of her. If fate has decreed that we should again meet, it must be on this spot.’ When I saw the woful condition of this wretched man and found that his love was sincere, I deferred the prosecution of my own journey, and hastened hither. I hope, then, your Majesty will treat with kindness and compassion the despairing lover which will lay the highest obligation on me, the humblest of your slaves.”
To this Alkanpari said, in reply, “Generous prince of Arabia! I had entirely forgotten the circumstance you mention, till my people informed me of your arrival here; and then I thought it probable that you might be my former lover. However, the moment I saw you, I found that you were not the man; and now I confess to you that he is unworthy of my regard. His love for me must be very cool indeed, since, out of pure timidity, he has lingered seven years in one spot, and has not had the courage to venture hither in quest of me. I pointed out to him the road, and told him my own name and that of the mountain which I inhabit, and had he been a true lover, he should have followed me, were it at the peril of his life.”
Hatim, in favour of the young man, rejoined, “Had his passion, been otherwise than sincere, he could not have so drunk of the cup of affection, nor would he have undergone such misery from the remembrance of you. You exacted from him a solemn promise at parting and how could the poor lover act contrary to the commands of his mistress? The enamoured youth is conscious of his own integrity, for when you departed you strictly enjoined him to remain underneath the tree till your arrival, and accordingly he has not stirred thence till now, lest in his absence you should return and not find him; in which case, he should stand convicted of having disobeyed your orders, and thus incur your displeasure.”
The fairy queen lent a deaf ear to all that he could urge, and utterly disowned her former lover. Hatim however persevered, saying, “For heaven’s sake let my labour not be in vain; consider through what toils and hardships I have accomplished my journey hither.”— “Well,” replied the queen relenting, “I cannot refuse what you request; this youth I will permit to come near me, but I will neither associate with him nor consider him as a companion.”— “And why not,” said Hatim, “accept him as your lover; what is the cause of such a change of mind?”— “Such is my pleasure” replied the queen, “and it shall not be otherwise.” — “If such be your resolution,” rejoined Hatim, “I will stand fasting at your gates; and till the hand of death seizes me, I will night and day complain to heaven of your cruelty.”
Having thus spoken, he quitted the presence of the fairy queen, and having removed underneath the shade of a tree, there he remained for seven days without tasting food or drinking water. On the eighth night, as he fell asleep, an old man appeared to him in a dream, and said, “Brave Hatim, be of good cheer; this beautiful fairy has more than one lover that laments her treachery: but you must first bring your friend hither, and then cause him to take the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter, and steep it in a goblet full of pure water. This draught will then ferment into a sherbet, and you must contrive that the queen shall drink of it, which, God willing, will be the means of restoring her affection.”
Hatim awoke him from his dream, and as he was meditating on what had occurred, the dawn of morn appeared. Meanwhile, who should approach but the fairy queen; she stood before him ,and said, “O Hatim, why do you thus persist in rejecting my hospitality? If you perish from want at my gates, shall I not on the day of judgment be arraigned as the cause of your death, and what will be my answer before the Supreme Judge?”— “O queen,” said Hatim in reply, “let me prevail on you to send for my love-sick friend, that he may be blessed even with the sight of your countenance.”— “Assuredly,” replied the queen, “I have no objection whatever to his being near my person.”
When Hatim heard this, he made preparations to return for his friend; but the fairy queen said to him, “You need not, Hatim, expose yourself to the perils of such a journey a second time, my fairies will do the business much more speedily.” Her Majesty then summoned a few of her subjects, and despatched them in quest of her lover, saying, “On the brow of a certain mountain, reclining underneath a tree, you will find a young man bewailing the cruelty of his mistress. Tell him that Alkanpari requests his immediate attendance; that she has been reminded of her promise to him by Hatim, prince of Yemen.”
The fairies with the speed of the wind, transported themselves to the spot where the youth lay, and delivered to him the orders of their mistress. Joyfully he heard the message, and expressed his obligations to the generous Hatim. The fairies then carried him along with them, and in the course of that same day presented him to Alkanpari their sovereign, which rendered his happiness complete. For some minutes his eyes were fixed on the beautiful fairy till at length his senses having forsaken him, he fell lifeless upon the ground. The queen sprinkled some fragrant attar of roses on his face; and as soon as he recovered, she addressed him in the accents of kindness, saying, “Enamoured youth! I permit you to remain near me, and you may feast your eyes by beholding my beauty as long as you please.” For the whole of that day the lover looked at nothing but the beautiful fairy, the fire of whose eyes consumed his heart. When the mantle of night was spread over them, the queen gave a signal, and troops of fairies entered, some with lights and music, to whose harmonious sounds the others danced. Amidst this scene of joy, Hatim saw that the fairy queen paid not the least regard to the sufferings of his friend. He went near the latter, and said, “Despair not; take this muhra and immerse it for a few minutes in a cup full of pure water, which you shall pour into the goblet from which the queen is wont to drink: this done, return and take up your station here.” The young man did as Hatim directed him; and after he had mixed the elixir, and poured the same into the queen’s goblet, one of the fairies happened to observe him, and said, “Base mortal! how dare you touch the goblet of her Highness?”
The youth assured the fairy that he merely wished for some water to drink, as he felt very thirsty. The fairy immediately gave him a drink of water from another cup, and sent him back to his former station. Hatim was an anxious spectator of the occurrence; and when he saw that his friend had succeeded according to his wish, he approched the queen’s throne, and said to her, “Will your Majesty be pleased to drink some sherbet, as the weather is warm?” The queen expressed her assent, and ordered her attendants to bring some. Hatim, however, undertook to be cup-bearer himself on the occasion; and having with his own hands prepared the sherbet, he brought the goblet to the queen. Her Majesty was about to hand the draught to some of her intimate friends who were then with her, but Hatim observed that the laws of courtesy required that the queen should drink first, and then such of her friends as she might deem proper to honour with the goblet.
The fairy queen* drank copiously of the sherbet, and then handed the goblet to her friends, who also tasted of the same. In an instant after, the reins of her heart fell from her hands, and she became deeply enamoured of the dying swain. Pierced with the darts of love, she rose up in order to fly to his arms, while Hatim secretly rejoiced to see her affection thus restored. He also stood up, and said to her, “O queen of the fairy realms, how comes it that you are now so kindly disposed towards your lover, who had almost become a martyr to your cruelty during the long period of your absence?”— “O Hatim!” replied the queen, “all this mischief is of your doing; however I forgive you, and this youth I will accept as my husband, agreeably to your desire: at the same time I dare not take so important a step without the consent of my parents.”
Having thus spoken, the fairy queen, accompanied by her select guards, flew with the swiftness of thought to her principal residence in the mountain of Alka. There she first waited on her mother, who said to her in surprise, “My dear daughter, six months are yet to pass of the period you proposed to reside in the gardens; why return you then at this unseasonable hour of midnight?” The beautiful Alkanpari stood speechless, and motioned to her attendants to explain the cause of her visit. They stated that the fairy queen had fallen in love with a youth of the race of Adam, and that the flame was mutual; that the lovers had met upwards of seven years past, but that the queen had for a long period abandoned her swain to the pangs of absence and despair, till lately he found means of discovering her residence; and that she is now willing to accept him as her husband, provided she obtain the consent of her parents.
The mother, immediately on hearing this, went and represented the affair to the father, who said in reply, “If such be the wish of our daughter, I am satisfied; why should we prevent her?” The queen having received the consent of her parents, immediately sent messengers for her lover and Hatim, who were soon in attendance. When they arrived at the palace, the beautiful queen presented the young man to her mother. The mother commended him to the father, who without more delay made preparations for the marriage, and according to the usages of the fairy race gave the hand of his daughter to Hatim’s friend.
When the enamoured pair were thus joined in the bands of wedlock, the young man in grateful terms expressed his obligations to Hatim, who remained with him seven days, and then took leave, in order to prosecute his journey. When about to depart, the queen inquired of Hatim to what part of the world he intended to travel; and when he told her, “To the mountains of Himyar,” she said to him, “Noble Hatim, give yourself no concern about your journey; Himyar is indeed a long way off, but my fairies shall convey you thither with the utmost speed.”
The queen summoned a few of her subjects, and gave them her instructions respecting the mountain of Himyar. They then placed Hatim on a howdah, and carried him through the air with such speed that in the course of twenty four hours they laid him down at the wished-for stage. Hatim had no sooner arrived than he heard the voice of the man, who exclaimed, “Do evil to no one; if you do, evil will overtake you.”
When Hatim heard this welcome sound, he requested the fairies to leave him, as he now considered himself at the end of his journey, and had occasion to stay for some time in these parts. The fairies accordingly took their leave and departed, while Hatim proceeded in the direction of the voice which had lately struck his ear. He had not far advanced when he observed an old man confined in a cage which was suspended to the branch of a tree. Hatim stood silent for a short time viewing with wonder the inmate of the cage, who once more exclaimed, “Do evil to no one; if you do, evil will overtake you.”
Hatim went close to the prisoner, and said to him, “Tell me, unfortunate man, what mean these words which you utter; and why are you confined in this cage, and suspended to the branch of the tree?”— “Ask me no questions,” replied the old man, “unless you wish to mend my condition and afford me relief. If you desire to hear my secrets, you must give me a sacred promise that you will not communicate the same to any one else.” To this Hatim assented, saying, “I give you my promise, and I am ready to confirm it by oath.” The old man then proceeded with his history: “I am by occupation a merchant, and my name is Hamir. When I became of age, my father had finished the building of this city, and he called the same after my name. Shortly after, my father departed on a sea voyage, and left me in charge of the city. I was a free-hearted and social young man, and so in a short time expended all the property left under my care by my father. Thus I became surrounded with poverty and want; and as I knew that my father had hidden treasures somewhere in his house, I resolved to discover them if possible. I searched everywhere, but found nothing; and to complete my woe, I received the news of my father’s death, the ship in which he sailed being wrecked.
“One day as I was sauntering, mournful and dejected, through the bazar, I espied a learned man who cried out, ‘If any one has lost his money by theft or otherwise, my knowledge of the occult sciences enables me to recover the same, but on condition that I receive one-fourth of the amount.’ When I heard this seasonable proclamation, I immediately approached the man of science and stated to him my sad condition, and how I had been reduced from affluence to poverty. The sage undertook to restore my wealth, and above all to discover the treasures concealed in my father’s house. I conducted him to my house and shewed him every apartment, which he carefully examined one after another. At length by his art he discovered the stores we were in search of; and when I saw the gold and silver and other valuables, which exceeded calculation, the demon of fraud entered my heart, and I refused to fulfil my promise of giving a fourth of the property to the man of wisdom. I offered him only a few small pieces of silver; instead of accepting which, he stood for a few moments in silent meditation and with look of scorn, said ‘Do I thus receive the fourth part of your treasure, which you agreed to give me? Base man, of what perjury are you guilty!’
“On hearing this I became enraged; and having struck him several blows on the face, I expelled him from my house. In a few days after, however, he returned, and so far ingratiated himself into my confidence that we became intimate friends; and night and day he displayed before my sight the various hidden treasures contained within the bowels of the earth. One day I asked him to instruct me in this wonderful science, to which he answered, that no instruction was requisite.’ ‘Here’ said he, ‘is a composition of surma,* and whoever applies the same to his eyes, to him all the wealth of this world will become visible.’— ‘Most learned sir,’ I replied, ‘if you will anoint my eyes with this substance, I promise to share with you the half of all such treasures as I may discover.’— ‘I agree,’ said my friend ‘meanwhile let us retire to the desert, where we shall be free from interruption.’
“We immediately set out, and when we arrived here, I was surprised at seeing this cage, and asked my companion whose it was. I received for answer, that it belonged to no one. In short, we both sat down at the foot of this tree, and the sage having produced the surma from his pocket, began to apply it to my eyes. But, alas! no sooner had he applied this composition than I became totally deprived of sight. In a voice of sorrow I asked him why he had thus treated me, and he replied, ‘Such is the reward of treachery; and if you wish to recover your sight you must for some time undergo penance in this cage. You must utter no complaint, and you shall exclaim from time to time, ‘Do no evil to any one; if you do evil will befall you.’
“I intreated the sage to relieve me, saying, ‘You are a mere mortal like myself, and dare you thus torment a fellow creature? How will you account for your deeds to the Supreme Judge?’ He answered, This is the reward of your treachery.’ Seeing him inexorable, I begged of him to inform me when and how my sight was to be restored; and he told me that a noble youth should one day visit me, and to him I was to make known my condition, and further state, that in the desert of Himyar there is a certain herb called the flower of light, which the youth was to procure and apply to my eyes, by means of which my sight should be restored.
“It is now nearly three years since he left me in this prison, which, though wide open, I cannot quit. Whenever I attempt to leave my confinement, I feel the most excruciating pain in my limbs, so that I have not power of moving, and thus I am compelled to remain. One day, shortly after my companion left me, I reflected in my own mind that I could do nothing for myself while I continued like a bird in this cage, and accordingly I resolved to quit it at all hazards; but the moment I was outside of it, the pain that seized my whole body almost killed me. I immediately returned into my prison, and have since that time resigned myself to my fate, exclaiming at stated times the words which have already attracted your attention. Many people have in the meantime passed by me; but on hearing my condition, they left me as they found me, without administering to my relief. To-day you have added one more to the number of my visitors: may I ask whether you intend to assist me?”
When Hatim heard this account from the man in the cage, he said to him, in reply, “My friend, be of good cheer, I will instantly endeavour to effect your release;” and without further delay, he proceeded to the desert in search of the flower of light. We have already stated, that the fairies that had conveyed him thither, returned, at his own request, to fairy land; but when they came before Alkanpari, her Highness immediately ordered them back to attend upon Hatim, while in the desert of Himyar, and afterwards to conduct him in safety in Shahabad. When Hatim entered the desert, he was surprised to again meeting the fairies, whom he recognized to be his former guides. They also, knowing Hatim, respectfully approached him, and having stated the whole occurrence, offered him their services, and requested to know whither he was going. “I am going,” replied Hatim, “in search of the flower of light, which grows somewhere in this desert.”— “We shall soon carry you to the spot,” replied the fairies; “at least we can shew you from a distance the field where that plant is found; if you return thence with life, we are in attendance in order to convey you to your own country; and should ought evil befall you in your present enterprise, we shall carry the intelligence of it to our mistress,”— “And why,” said Hatim, “will you not accompany me all the way?” — “Our approaching the spot,” replied the fairies, “is useless, and may be fatal. When this flower is in bloom, the field where it grows is illumined as it were with brilliant lamps; the beautiful light which it emits is such that you will easily see the object of your search; but, on the other hand, around those flowers are stationed thousands of horrible snakes, poisonous scorpions, and other formidable creatures without number, so that even the fowls of heaven cannot approach that deadly spot.”— “Do you once conduct me thither,” rejoined Hatim, “and leave me to manage the rest.”
The fairies lifted Hatim from the ground, and having swiftly traversed the air for the space of seven days, they alighted with him about the time of midnight in an extensive plain. He then asked them to point out to him the flower which he was so eager to pluck, but they told him that the season when it should be in bloom had not yet arrived. He therefore resolved to remain there till the appointed time, and in the meanwhile the fairies plentifully supplied him from all quarters with food to eat, and fruit and water wherewith to quench his thirst; and in short, in that remote desert, he fared like a prince. In the course of time the flowers of light began to blossom in the field, each of them brilliant as a lamp, so that the whole plain became a blaze of light. The breezes that gently blew over the desert, were loaded with the sweetest perfume.
Meanwhile serpents, scorpions, and beasts of prey without number, issued as it were from the bosom of the earth, and completely surrounded the illumined flowers. The fairies at this sight stood aghast, and Hatim observing their terror, said to them, “Do you keep aloof here so as to be out of danger; I have placed my reliance upon God and whatever may happen, I will not shrink from my enterprise.” Hatim having made this resolution, took in his hand the talisman of the bear daughter, and fearlessly advancing into the midst of the field, he plucked three of the largest and most brilliant flowers, and returned unhurt to his guides. The fairies were astonished at this daring feat, and looked on Hatim as a being far beyond their comprehension. Obedient to his sign, they raised him upon their shoulders, and swiftly winged their way through the air to that part of the desert where Hamir was imprisoned.
Hatim approached him, and said, “Be not sad, my friend, behold the flower which you say will restore your sight.” The blind man expressed his thanks to heaven, and said to Hatim, “Brave youth, be pleased to compress the stalk with your own hands, so that the juice of it may drop into my eyes.” Hatim untied the cage from the branch of the tree, and having released the inmate, he applied the liquid to his eyes as directed. Having repeated this process three times, the blind Hamir at length opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, fell prostrate at his feet, and offered him a profusion of thanks. Hatim kindly raising him up, said, “My good friend, why make so many acknowledgments? I have devoted myself to the service of my Creator, and I consider the performance of charitable deeds as the most lasting felicity.”
The man addressing Hatim in return, said, “Generous prince! my house abounds with gold and silver and all worldly wealth, accept then such portion of it as you may deem proper.”— “Truly Sir,” replied Hatim, “worldly wealth is of no use to me, for already I possess far more than is sufficient for me; I may advise you however to expend your treasures in such manner as may be acceptable to God, in the bestowing of food upon the hungry, and in clothing those who are naked.
Here Hatim took his leave of the old man of the desert, and having mounted his howdah, the fairies carried him through the air with such swiftness that in a few days he arrived in Shahabad. He dismounted at the gates of the city, and the fairies, when about to return, reqested of him to favour them with a letter to their queen, certifying his safe arrival. To this, Hatim readily agreed, whereupon his aerial guides took their leave and departed. He no sooner entered the city than Husn Banu’s people recognized him, and with the utmost promptness conducted him before their sovereign lady. Husn Banu received Hatim with the highest kindness, and asked him numerous questions respecting his adventure. Hatim detailed at length all that he had seen and performed in the course of his journey. Husn Banu then presented him with food and drink; but ere Hatim tasted of either, he requested that his friend the prince of Assyria should be invited to partake of his fare. Munir was immediately sent for, and after paying his warmest regard to Hatim, they both sat down and ate together. After they had finished their meal, Hatim, addressing Husn Banu, said, “Noble lady, tell me what is your next question?”— “There is a man,” replied Husn Banu, “who exclaims, ‘He who speaks the truth is always tranquil.’ Go then and find out that man; inform me wherein has he spoken the truth, and what degree of tranquility does he enjoy in consequence.”— “May I ask,” said Hatim, “in what quarter of the world does this man dwell?”— “That,” said Husn Banu, “is unknown to me, but I have heard from my nurse that the city is called Karam.”— “Enough,” said Hatim, “I trust that God will direct me in this also;” and taking his leave of Husn Banu, he proceeded with his friend Munir to the Caravanserai.
Hatim’s perilous journey to the city of Karam— His attainment of the object of his desire, and safe return to Shahabad.
WE are informed by the learned, that when Hatim left Shahabad, he prosecuted his journey for several stages, till at length he came to the foot of a lofty mountain. There he observed at some distance what he conceived to be a spring of water; but what must have been his surprise when, on a nearer approach, he found streaming with blood! He stood bewildered, and unable to account for a phenomenon such as he had never witnessed. Wearied and disappointed, he at length resumed his journey, and in the course of two days his attention was drawn to a tree of uncommon size, which towered far above the surrounding objects. He quickly bent his steps towards this stately tree; but when he reached it, what an appalling sight! To every branch of it was suspended a human head; and at the foot of it was a lake of a crimson hue, from which a stream of blood issued in the direction of the desert.
Hatim sat down underneath the tree, and viewed with wonder and awe the spectacle before him; when all at once the deadly silence of the place was broken by a peal of laughter from the suspended heads. He started up in tenfold astonishment, for to him it seemed utterly unaccountable that human heads severed from the body should still preserve their risible faculties. With no less wonder he saw that the blood constantly flowed into the lake from the opened veins of those heads. In deep reflexion, he was considering how to unfold this fearful mystery when his eye was attracted by the head which stood highest on the tree. The moment he beheld the enchanting smile of that angelic countenance, he felt as if his soul would quit its frame, and senseless he fell upon the earth. After some hours his recollection was restored, and he sat up wondering within himself what could have been the cause of so strange an occurrence, and why so many beautiful damsels had been doomed to so cruel a fate.
Hatim considered it as unworthy of himself to pass on and take no further notice of what he had just seen, for in that case he should still remain in ignorance. He resolved therefore to stop for a few days in that place, in order, if possible, to discover the nature of the mystery. When the shades of night were about to fall, he withdrew into a sheltered spot on the banks of the lake, and there betook himself to rest. But ere he closed his eyelids in sleep a change came over the scene before him, which further served to increase his astonishment. When the last ray of twilight had vanished, he observed that on a sudden all the heads dropped from the tree into the lake, which in an instant was transformed into a palace splendidly adorned with gorgeous couches, and in the midst a throne of burnished gold. Shortly after entered a train of damsels of fairy form, and amongst them one of surpassing beauty, who occupied the throne while the rest sat down on the surrounding couches.
When this brilliant assembly was seated, Hatim took a thorough view of the queen upon the throne,and was convinced that her head was the same that he had seen highest upon the tree, and the countenance was that of which the beauty had already ravished his heart. Amongst those who sat on the couches or stood in attendance on the queen, he could also perceive many faces already familiar to him. A select number of those heart ravishing damsels had musical instruments, the melodious sounds of which charmed the ear, while the eye was delighted with the graceful movements of others who danced. Thus passed the first half of the night, while Hatim looked on with a feeling of wonder and delight, uncertain whether he was in a dream or enjoying a scene of reality.
About the hour of midnight, tables were spread, and the choicest viands of every description were brought in and laid down. Meanwhile she who occupied the throne issued orders to those in waiting to place a table and food before the stranger who sat retired on the border of the lake. The servants speedily obeyed; and having brought the table and food to Hatim, requested him to eat, as such was the will of their queen. “And what,” asked Hatim, “is the name of your fair and hospitable sovereign?” — “Ask no questions,” replied the attendant damsels, “as we are not at liberty to satisfy your curiosity. Accept the bounty thus offered you, and trouble not yourself with the name of the giver, being a matter of no moment to you.”— “What you state,” rejoined Hatim, “is very reasonable; but unless you inform me of your sovereign’s name, be assured that I will not taste of her food.”
The fairy attendants returned to their queen, and informed her of the stranger’s obstinate refusal of her bounty, whereupon she again sent one of them to Hatim, requesting him in the meantime to eat of her food, and that to-morrow he should know all. Hatim still persisted in his previous request, and endeavoured to lay hold of the fair messenger: but she flew beyond his reach, and took up her station at the foot of the throne in the humble posture of the other attendants. Again the song and dance were resumed, and thus the fair assembly passed the remainder of the night.
When the first rays of dawn began to emerge from the east, the whole scene vanished as it were into the bottom of the lake. Instantly the severed heads again rose from the water, and took their station on the branches of the tree, each in the place it had occupied the preceding day. Hatim now quitted the spot where he had spent the night, and once more sat down underneath the tree with his eyes fixed upon the heads, but chiefly upon that of the queen. Various were the plans he suggested to himself, though none of them seemed to promise success. He resolved, however, to use every exertion in the unfolding of this mystery, and if possible break the spell of the enchantment, whereupon he should claim the queen as his bride.
Thus another day passed by, and again the veil of darkness overshadowed the earth, when all the heads dropped from the tree into the lake, and the same scene which he had witnessed the preceding night was again presented to his view. He sat on the banks of the lake as before, and waited in anxious expectation the fulfilment of the queen’s promise. When midnight came he was presented with a table and food by the damsel whom he had addressed the preceding night. He reminded her of the queen’s promise, but was requested to eat of the food and ask no idle questions. “Never,” replied Hatim, “will I taste of your mistress’s bounty till you have fully informed me of her name.” The messenger returned to the queen, and told her of the result. Her Majesty requested Hatim first to taste of her bounty and then to come before her, when he should receive the information he desired.
Hatim then partook of the food offered him, and rose up to accompany the fairy attendant to the queen’s presence. The fairy plunged into the midst of the lake, and Hatim without hesitation followed her example. When his feet reached the bottom he opened his eyes, and beheld, not the lake, nor the stately tree, nor the fairy court, but a dreary waste which seemed to be the haunt of demons. His love for the fairy queen however was so powerful that he could think of nothing else. Forgetful of himself, he sorrowfully strayed through this wilderness for the space of seven days, when all at once he espied a man of venerable appearance dressed in green apparel, advancing towards him from the right hand side.
When Hatim saw this aged man, he stood still waiting his approach. The latter courteously saluted him, and expressed his surprise in finding him in that desert, which he said was called Jaras. “And how,” said Hatim, “have I chanced to come hither?”— “Did you not of your own accord,” replied the man in green, “plunge into the lake, though you must have known that all you beheld was enchantment? But at present you are a hundred farasangs distant from it!” Hatim, on receiving this information, threw himself upon the earth and wept aloud, saying, “Alas! how shall I be able to retrace my way? I must bid adieu to life, and yet attain not the object of my desire.”
The aged man, pitying Hatim, said to him, “What is your desire at present?”— “To return instantly,” replied Hatim, “to the place whence I came.” The old man holding up a staff, desired him to shut his eyes and seize it in his hand. This Hatim had no sooner done than he found himself in his old quarters on the banks of the lake where he beheld the tree with the heads suspended to its branches as formerly, but no trace of his venerable benefactor was to be found. He now sat down, thoughtfully contriving what course to adopt next, when all at once he resolved to climb the tree, and bring down the head of the queen. Thus determined he began to climb, but lo! the tree shook so violently that Hatim fell to the ground. Again he grasped the trunks of the tree, and finding that it ceased from shaking, he with great exertion climbed up about half way to its branches. But here a tremendous sound issued from the trunk of the tree, which was rent asunder, and Hatim was swallowed into the fissure, so that only half his body appeared without.
Hatim deeply repented his temerity, and said to himself, “Now indeed my misery is complete! I have escaped from the enchanted desert, but this difficulty I see no possibility of overcoming.” In the agonies of despair, he exerted all his strength to release himself, but he found that his body every moment sunk deeper into the tree, till at length only his head and hands remained visible. In this state his breathing almost ceased, and he was about to close his eyes for ever on this world, when, behold! the aged man in green stood before him, and said, “Heedless youth, why have you involved yourself in this calamity? Are you in good truth tired of your life, that you thus so freely peril it?”
Hatim was in no condition to reply, so he remained silent. Meanwhile the aged man struck the tree with his staff, and instantly the parts of it where Hatim was incased became smooth as oil. The aged man took him by the hands and drew him from his fetters, but his strength was so exhausted that he fell at the foot of the tree. When he recovered his senses, the venerable sage said to him, “Tell me, young man, what have you to do with trunkless heads, that you should thus involve yourself in such calamities?”— “I should like,” replied Hatim, “to know the mysterious cause of their being suspended here.”— “Listen to me,” said the aged man, “and I will satisfy your curiosity.”
“There is a magician by name Sam Ahmar, and that head which you see highest on the tree is that of his daughter. This lady, who was exceedingly beautiful, fell in love with a youth about her own age, and wished to marry him. She requested her father’s consent, stating that she was now of age, and expected that her father would sanction the choice she had made. On hearing her declaration, the father became enraged, and inflicted this punishment upon his daughter. This tree, the lake, and all that you see before you, are the effects of his enchantment. The magician’s residence is in a mountain about a hundred farasangs distant, and the name of this daughter is Zarinposh. So powerful is he in his art, that when he pleases he transports himself hither in less than a day. The place of his abode is called the Red Mountain, and during his life no mortal can approach his daughter.
On receiving this information from his aged deliverer, Hatim said, “Father, I will instantly climb the tree, and rescue the daughter; even the fear of death shall not detain me.”— “If such is your resolution,” replied his sage monitor, “you are indeed exposing your life to perils; I warn you of the danger, and I advise you as friend to abandon such thoughts.”— “You say well,” rejoined Hatim, “but in this proceeding I am prepared for the worst.”— “And may I ask,” continued the old man, “what occasion have you to attempt a task which you are convinced to be fatal?”— “I am enamoured of the magician’s daughter,” replied Hatim, “and I will either rescue her or share her fate.”
The aged man still persisted in his salutary advice, and Hatim remained equally obstinate. At length the former said, “Young man, if you mind not my counsel, be assured that you will have cause for sorrow.”— “Alas,” said Hatim, “what is life to me without the object of my desire? As for sorrow, it is to me familiar, for the word was written on my forehead the day I first drew breath.” The old man, without further speech, struck the tree with his staff, and said to Hatim, “Come and ascend,” after which, he vanished from the place.
Hatim in the meanwhile succeeded in climbing the tree till he reached the branch where the head of his beloved was suspended. This he had no sooner touched than his own head was severed from his body and fastened to the next branch, while his body fell into the lake. When the hour of darkness arrived, the heads as usual were united to their respective bodies, and assembled in the enchanted palace in the midst of the water. There the same scene took place which Hatim had formerly witnessed; the queen was seated upon the throne, part of which he himself was allowed to occupy. Unconscious of his own state, he sat down admiring the beauty of the magician’s daughter. He had not the least recollection of his former self: he knew not how he came there; and the idea of escape from thence never entered his mind.
The queen perceived that Hatim was a captive in the fetters of love and enchantment; but she remained silent, and occupied her attention with the song and the dance. At the hour of midnight she took his hand, and having seated him beside her at table, she offered him food of the most delicious flavour. Hatim ate of her bounty, and spent the night in mirth and pleasure, forgetful of all that he had ever been. At break of day his head, along with those of the rest, were suspended on the tree; and thus he passed several days and nights, when again the aged man came to his assistance.
The sage touched the head of Hatim with his staff, when instantly his body ascended from the lake, and once more he became himself. He stood at the foot of the tree as a man awakened from a dream; his senses returned, and the moment he beheld his aged deliverer, he prostrated himself at his feet and said, “Most wonderful man, you have seen my dangerous state, and partly relieved me, but much more remains to be done.” The old man, pointing to the tree, said in return, “Deluded youth! thou knowest the horrors of the situation from which I have saved thee, yet thou wilt not fly the cause of thy misery; thy affection for this damsel, then, is still unaltered?”— “Incapable of change,” replied Hatim, “and if, for the sake of God, you lend me your aid, I may succeed; otherwise, with my eyes open to the dangers which await me, I am resolved to brave them all for her whom I love.”— “Since such is your resolution,” resumed the old man, “the first thing you must do is to slay the magician her father, for till then the enchantment cannot be broken.”— “That,” replied Hatim, “I will accomplish or perish in the attempt.”— “Your efforts will prove fruitless,” rejoined his mentor, “unless you follow my directions.”
Hatim embraced the knees of his aged friend, saying, “Speak, then, and I swear never to deviate from your advice.”— “Learn from me,” said the old man, “the following charm, which consists in repeating certain attributes of the Deity.”* Hatim listened attentively, and having acquired the charm, he was about to depart, when the aged man gave his parting advice: “Brave youth,” said he, “the power of this charm depends on your own conduct. You must keep yourself pure, and never utter a falsehood; every day you must devoutly purify yourself with water, and never break your fast till set of sun, nor must you repeat the charm at an improper time. These are conditions which you must strictly attend to, then, should any evil befall you, repeat this sacred charm, and you will succeed; even the arts of the magician shall have no power over you.”
“But how,” said Hatim, “can I find my way to the mountain for Ahmar?”— “Seize my staff in your right hand,” replied the other, “then shut your eyes, and put your trust in heaven.” Hatim did as he was ordered, and for a few minutes felt that he was moving swiftly through the air, after which his feet rested upon firm ground. He opened his eyes, but saw no one near him. Before him stood a lofty mountain, covered with the blossoms of the tulip, a circumstance which surprised him much, as it was not then the season for these flowers.
Hatim began to climb the mountain, but he had not proceeded many steps when his feet stuck fast to the stones and rocks that paved his way. He at first exerted himself to the utmost, but found all his efforts of no avail; his feet were immoveable as the rock on which he stood. When his despair was extreme, his mind recurred to the charm which the old man had taught him. The moment he uttered the divine words of the spell, he found his feet at liberty, and with elastic steps he continued his ascent along the Red Mountain. Arrived at the summit, he beheld a wide spreading plain, in the midst of which was a fountain of cool and delicious water, surrounded with trees bearing loads of fruit such as he had never seen. Hatim sat down by the fountain; and having performed his ablutions, he repeated the words of the sacred charm, whereby all the beasts of prey, and the poisonous reptiles that infested the plain, fled from his sight.
When the magician observed the disturbance which took place among his favourite animals, he had recourse to his books of enchantment. There he beheld the following sentence: “Know that on a certain day this mountain shall be visited by Hatim, prince of Yemen, who will render of no effect all the arts which you possess.” The magician, on ascertaining that Hatim had actually arrived at the fountain, began to dive further into the depths of his mystic science, in order to discover the cause of this visit. To his utter dismay, he found that Hatim had fallen in love with his daughter, and had come with intent to slay him, secure under a sacred spell, over which the whole circle of magic art had no power.
Now the magician saw that his only safety consisted in making Hatim forget the words of the sacred charm which the old man had taught to him. Having therefore uttered some incantations, and blown with his breath towards the four quarters of the horizon, in an instant appeared as it were from the thin air numbers of sprites and fairies, which drew up in circles around him. He summoned one of these which bore the resemblance of his daughter, and having given her in her hand a goblet and vase full of wine, he said to her, “Go and use all thy art to make Hatim drink of this cup.” The sprite, accompanied with others similar to those who attended the queen, proceeded to the fountain. When Hatim observed them, he thought within himself, “These are the same that I saw at the enchanted tree; can it be possible that they too could have arrived here already?” But he further reflected that the place where he was belonged to the father of the fairy queen, therefore it was most likely that what he saw was no deception.
The sprite which resembled his love, gracefully accosted Hatim, saying, “Brave sir, many are the dangers you have encountered in coming hither on my account. My father has been pleased to release me from confinement, and here I walk unrestrained in his gardens. The moment I saw you my heart rejoiced, and I hasten to assure you of my sincere affection.” Having thus spoken, the false sprite sat down by the side of Hatim, and having filled the goblet, gave it him to drink. Hatim joyfully accepted the fatal pledge, and congratulating himself on his good fortune in this interview, raised the cup to his lips, and drained it to the bottom.
The instant Hatim tasted of the hellish draught, the sprite that had assumed the form of his mistress was changed into a black demon. The whole of them rushed upon him, and carried him bound in chains before their great master. The magician, on viewing the noble form and undaunted brow of Hatim, became thoughtful, and almost relented in his cruel intention of putting him to death. “Pity it were,” he said to himself, “that so brave a man should perish; but since he is my mortal foe, I must have him exterminated.” Having made this resolution, the magician commanded his obedient imps to seize Hatim bound as he was, and cast him into the midst of a fiery pit which blazed night and day on the top of the mountain.
The sprites laid hold of Hatim, and having cast him into the burning cauldron which contained a thousand maunds of melted lead, they returned to their master, and informed him that his enemy was annihilated. The magician, by means of his mystic books, discovered that Hatim was alive in the midst of the flame. He was utterly confounded, for he knew that there were very few talismans sufficiently potent against his own art. Again he had recourse to his books, and at last he found out that Hatim had in his mouth the muhra of the bear’s daughter. This discovery sadly perplexed the magician, as it was impossible forcibly to deprive Hatim of the muhra, and he was invulnerable while he possessed the same. The magician ordered his sprites to release Hatim from the flames, and place him beside the fountain where he originally sat. The order was speedily obeyed, and Hatim thus left to himself, threw off his clothes and bathed in the cool spring, after which he offered up his prayers to God, and betook himself to rest. The magician however did not yet feel secure: he assailed Hatim by the same imps as before, and that one among them which resembled the queen again approached him from the grottoes of the field, and said to him, “Noble Hatim! I must converse with you only from a distance, for I dare not sit beside you. To-day I was enjoying your society, when, lo! my father transformed me into a black demon, and the rest of my train into faries. We seized you and cast you into the fire, for we durst not disobey his stern command. God has delivered you from the impending calamity; but you must for your own safety shun the society, for if my father see us together, he will assuredly slay us both.”
By these fair words the heart of Hatim was ensnared and having stretched forth his hands, the deceitful sprite, who said to him, “Oh Hatim, dost thou sincerely love me?”— “I love thee,” replied he, “from my soul.”— “Then,” said the form of his mistress, “Let me ask of thee one gift, and may I hope it shall not be refused.”— “Name the boon which thou requestest,” replied he, “and I swear it shall be granted if in my power. Know, however, that I am poor; if thy wish be gold or jewels, I have none to bestow: but let me hear the favour thou wouldst ask of me.”
The sprite replied, “I have heard that you possess the muhra of the bear’s daughter.”— “And how,” replied Hatim, “have you learned this much?”— “My father,” replied the phantom, “by means of his skill in books of magic, has made the discovery, and told me that you possessed the above-mentioned talisman, and I long to have it for myself.”— “The gift you ask is precious,” replied Hatim, “but you shall have it:” and he accordingly was about to part with that to which he owed his safety, and consign it to a demon under the form of his mistress.
Suddenly the aged man in green apparel stood by his side, and seizing his right hand, said to him, “Deluded man, part not with this treasure, otherwise you will have deep cause for regret, nay, the period of your existence will be but short.” Hatim having recovered from his surprise, addressed his aged monitor, saying, “Venerable sir, who are you, and why do you thus prevent me in doing what is right?”
The aged man addressing him, said. “Oh, Hatim! hast thou not yet recognized me? I am Khwaja Khizr,* who lately taught thee to utter the attributes of the Most High.” Hatim quickly advanced, and prostrated himself at the feet of the saint, saying, “Thou heavenly being, to thee I owe my success in thus attaining the object of my affection.— “Deluded man,” replied the prophet, “knowest thou not that this is all enchantment? Already hast thou been deceived by this false form. The first time thou didst sit by this fountain, the magician sent thee this sprite with a cup full of hellish drugs, on the tasting of which thou wert deprived of all sensation. Did they not in consequence cast thee into the fiery gulph? And dost thou not owe thy safety to this muhra, which thou art about to give away? Oh Hatim, if thy life be dear to thee, part not with this treasure. To convince thee of my sincerity, utter the charm which I have taught thee, and if this form be really the fair daughter of the enchanter, she will still sit by thee; if, on the other hand, it is an evil spirit, it will vanish from thy sight in a flame of fire.”
Hatim kissed the foot of the saint in token of grateful submission; and having performed his devotions and purified himself in the fountain, he pronounced the sacred charm The moment he opened his mouth, the light of truth began to shine upon him. The magic sprites trembled before him and a flame of fire issued from their heads as from a furnace. In a few minutes their whole bodies burnt like dried wood, and they were reduced to ashes. So infatuated was Hatim, however, that he regretted the change: for while he had not the power of seeing his beloved, he at least consoled himself in contemplating her image, of which he was now deprived.
In this state of sorrow Hatim spent the night in weeping and lamentation, nor did sleep once close his eyelids. Meanwhile the magician, by the potency of his hellish lore, conjured up the great Iblees* (on whom be curses) and held a consultation with him on the state of his affairs. The spirit of evil said to him, “Foolish magician, of Hatim’s life a long period has yet to pass; such is the divine decree, and no power in the earth or hell can slay him. ’Tis vain for thee to combat with fate, why then dost thou not submit, and let Hatim have thy daughter in marriage?”— “To no living creature will I give my daughter,” replied the magician, “as long as I have the breath of life.”— “Tell me then,” said Iblees, “what wouldst thou with me?”— “Briefly,” answered the other, “this Hatim hath twice defied my power, and rendered my art of no avail; he knoweth the most sacred of charms, and I hope that thou canst poison his memory so as to make him forget it.”— “Thy request is vain,” rejoined Iblees, “for over the unerring decrees of the Almighty I have no power or control. The Eternal hath willed that Hatim’s fame should be perpetual, and he hath commissioned the prophet Khwaja Khizr (on whom be peace) to assist him in his bold undertakings. To me therefore there is no possibility of entering his heart, while he possesses the sacred charm. But this much I can do, I shall cause sleep to overpower his eyelids, and fill his imagination with such tempting dreams as are common to mortals.”
The magician, on hearing this, bowed down and worshipped his great master, who assured him of his assistance and winged his course back to the infernal regions. In the meantime Hatim forgot his sorrows in sleep, and reason having for a time abandoned the guidance of his imagination, he revelled in the most tempting dreams of worldly vanity.
When Hatim awoke from his dream he felt his senses confounded, and got up with the intention of purifying himself in the fountain and repeating his sacred charm; but the magician having conjured up a monstrous demon, was ready to assail him with his diabolic arts. When Hatim found himself thus beset, his heart trembled within him: for, polluted as he was, he durst not utter the sacred charm, and otherwise how could he resist his enemy! The demon seized him thus irresolute, and carried him before the magician, who ordered him to be bound in chains and cast into a pit, over the mouth of which a large stone should be placed. The order was speedily executed; and when Hatim found himself thus incarcerated, he composed his thoughts, and poured out his soul in prayer before the Almighty Creator.
After he had passed seven days and nights in this dungeon, without tasting food or drinking water, the magician expecting that he must ere now be subdued with hunger and thirst, sent some of his imps to examine his condition. But to these Hatim paid no regard, nor would he answer any of their inquiries. The magician, informed of this, said to them, “Return to Hatim and tell him that if he will give me the muhra of the bear’s daughter, I shall set him at liberty.” Oh hearing this proposal, Hatim said to them, in reply, “Go and say to your master, that he shall have the muhra, provided he give me his daughter in marriage.” When this was communicated to the magician his rage was beyond bounds; he assembled all his imps, and having led them to Hatim’s place of confinement, he ordered them to collect large stones, and dash them on Hatim’s head till he should die. The attendants accordingly procured as many stones as they could carry; and having bound Hatim in a conspicuous place, they began to execute the orders of their master, saying, “Now prepare for instant death, for your muhra shall no longer avail you; the magician has empowered us to crush your head to pieces.”— “Tell him,” said Hatim, “that I defy all his power, and by the aid of heaven, I will yet slay him.” Scarce had he done speaking, when a shower of stones was aimed at his head; but to the utter astonishment of the magician and his imps, when the stones came within a few yards of their mark, they diverged in all directions without taking the least effect. Thus the whole of the stones passed by Hatim, and lay in a heap on either side of him. The magician soon understood the cause of this, but his attendants could not believe what they had seen. “To convince yourselves,” said their master, “go and examine whether this man be alive or dead.” The imps, laying aside their missiles, went up to Hatim and to their surprise found him untouched. When their astonishment had a little abated, they renewed their assault, but with no better success. After the heap of stones around Hatim had increased tenfold, they once more went up to him, in order to be assured that their senses did not deceive them; and on finding him still unhurt, they again resumed their attack, which they continued uninterruptedly for seven days. Hatim all along remained unhurt by their blows, but his frame was quite exhausted with hunger and thirst. At length he addressed them, saying, “Your efforts are in vain, you must ere now be convinced of the potency of my talisman, as the fire has not burnt me, nor do the stones which you now throw in the least hurt me. But my thirst is past enduring, and I am willing to give even the muhra to him who will carry me to the side of the fountain. The muhra has many other virtues; for instance, should the possessor of it desire to kill the magician and occupy his throne, he will be enabled to do so.” The imps, however, refused to listen to him, saying, “We have no will but that of our master, and your muhra can be of no use to us.”
One of the demons that stood nearest to Hatim intimated to him by signs that when the darkness of night should set in, he would take him to the fountain as he desired, with which arrangement Hatim expressed his satisfaction. When night arrived, all the guard sunk in sleep, while the demon aforesaid, instigated with the desire of possessing the muhra, remained awake. At the hour of midnight, he softly stole from amidst his companions, and said to Hatim, “Now is your time, let me conduct you to the fountain.”— “Willingly,” replied Hatim; “but how is it possible for me to be released from my fetters?”— “Leave that to me,” said his guide, who on uttering some unearthly charm conjured up two monstrous demons, as it were, from the empty air. These speedily removed the stone which confined Hatim, and allowed him to come forth, when his guide conducted him to the wished-for spring.
As soon as Hatim arrived at the fountain, he devoutly began to perform his ablutions. Meanwhile the demon interrupted him, saying, “Now, young man, remember your promise, and give me the muhra, for on this condition I brought you hither.”— “Assuredly,” replied Hatim, “since you have done me so great a favour, I will make a proper requital.”— “And what return can you make,” said the demon, except the fulfilment of your promise?”— “What will be of more value to you,” replied Hatim; “when I shall have slain this magician, Sam Ahmar, I will establish you as king in his stead.”— “I covet not royalty,” rejoined the demon, “I demand, and must have the muhra.”— “Consider,” said Hatim, “that I received it as a gift from a dear friend; can I then consistently part with it, and for whom do you ask it?”— “For myself alone,” replied the demon.— “Fiend,” said Hatim, “had you asked it of me in order to promote the service of the Almighty Creator, I should have given it to you.”— “The only God we acknowledge,” rejoined the demon, “is Iblees, the great receptor of our sovereign Sam Ahmar.”— “Silence, blasphemer,” cried Hatim, “the God whom I adore is the creator of the universe; and were it not that you have lately served me in my need, I should have treated you as you deserve.” — “Let us cease wrangling,” said the demon, “it is easy for me to deprive you of the muhra by main force; but if you give it of your own accord, I shall spare your life; otherwise, I shall drown you in this fountain.”— “Slave of Iblees,” rejoined Hatim, “begone and leave me; the muhra is not mine to give.”
Hereupon the demon began to assail Hatim with enchantment; but the latter pronounced the sacred charm, whose potency made his adversery tremble through every joint. He instantly fled from Hatim’s presence, and took shelter in the midst of his friends, where he lay down and feigned sleep, that no one might know what he had done, as he dreaded the vengeance of his master should the truth be known.
Hatim, now freed from the power of his enemies, passed the night in meditation and prayer beside the fountain. When the morning dawned, and the sentinels opened their drowsy eyes, they one after another went to visit their charge, but no trace of Hatim could they find, Their terror was beyond description, for what answer could they return to their formidable master when he shoud call them to account? “Assuredly,” said they one to another, “he will not this day leave one of us alive.” At length they put ashes on their heads, and with trembling steps presented themselves before the magician, saying, “Alas! mighty sir, the young man under our charge has made his escape.”
Their master calmly consulted his books, and soon discovered the real state of affairs; viz., that one of the sentinels, whose name was Sarmak, had in the course of the night released Hatim from prison, and conveyed him to the brink of the fountain. The magician was highly enraged, and said to the guilty sentinel, “Faithless wretch! how durst thou thus release thy prisoner? Thy life shall answer for it, prepare for instant death.” Sarmak considered that now, as he had no hope of mercy from his master, his best plan would be to fly to Hatim and implore his protection.
With the speed of lightning Sarmak fled from the presence of the magician, and having reached the fountain where Hatim sat, he prostrated himself at his feet, and said, “Noble sir, my life is about to be sacrificed on your account; save me, as I never harmed you. I have been truly unfortunate; on the one hand, you gave me not the muhra as promised, and for serving you my life is in danger.”— “Make yourself easy on that score, my good friend Sarmak,” replied Hatim, “you will find that I have both the will and the power to return your kindness.” When the magician discovered that his servant had fled to Hatim, he instantly began to assail them both with his hellish art. The effect was soon perceptible on Sarmak, who exclaimed, “Help me, brave Hatim, I burn;” and a flame issued from the crown of his head. Hatim pronounced the words of his awful spell, and instantly the flame that burnt his companion became cool as the breath of the zephyr. Sarmak respectfully approaching his deliverer, said, “Valiant sir, henceforth I am entirely yours.” Hatim tendered his hand to his new friend, and both of them proceeded towards the magician’s capital. Meanwhile Sam Ahmar discovered their intentions; and having assembled all his subjects (who were fit for battle), he laid them forth into the plain without the city, and began to practice all the power of his art. As Hatim and his companion were approaching this formidable array, on a sudden the sky was overcast with dark clouds, the lightning flashed forth in streams and the loud thunder began to bellow. “Brave Hatim,” said Sarmak, “have a care of yourself; this is caused by the art of your enemy.” Hatim uttered the sacred charm, and having blown with his breath towards the clouds, the storm withdrawn, and all was calm and serene.
The magician, thus foiled, again resumed his task. Stones of vast dimensions were seen to rise from the earth; and having ascended to an immense height in the sky, they began a swift descent towards the spot where Hatim stood. This shower of rocks must have crushed Hatim to pieces, as he had not observed its approach; but Sarmak exclaimed, “Hatim, beware! here is another specimen of the enchanter’s power.” Again he repeated the divine spell, and breathed towards the stones as they descended, when, lo! their course was altered; and having passed directly through the thickest of the magician’s army, they swept to the ground four thousand of his bravest men. One of the stones almost struck the head of the king; but seeing its course, he pronounced a spell and blew it aside with his breath. Amidst this consternation, Hatim and his companion advanced, whilst their enemies, terrified, said one to another, “Let us save ourselves, this man is too powerful for us to oppose.” When the magician beheld the near approch of his adversary, he once more exerted his skill. In the twinkling of an eye, dragons the most terrible of aspect were seen to rush from all quarters towards the devoted Hatim. He again uttered the sacred charm of the immortal Khizr, when all the dragons bore their furious onset against the magician’s host; and so terrible was the slaughter, that of his whole army scarce three thousand now survived, while full twenty thausand lay dead on the plain.
The few that survived became fully convinced that Hatim was far more powerful in the magic art than even their great sovereign, whom they now resolved to abandon. Addressing the magician, they said to him, “Sire, is it your purpose thus to expose us to wanton slaughter? It is too evident that we have no power to cope with this formidable adversary; we must therefore save ourselves by flight.” The magician, enraged, shouted to them in a voice like thunder, “Base cowards, whither do ye fly? A few minutes more, and Hatim is my prisoner.”
His words were unheeded by his shattered host; and seeing them thus quit the field, he uttered one of his spells and blew his breath after them, when every man was changed into a green tree. Thus left alone, Sam Ahmar by means of some hellish incantation, was furnished with a pair of wings, and soared aloft into the air. Hatim was, not prepared for this stratagem of the enemy: he stood in astonishment as he beheld the magician darting through the clouds, anxiously expecting another display of his powerful art. But his adversary seemed to resign the struggle, and at length was lost to the sight among the clouds.
Hatim, then addressing Sarmak, said, “I shall not consider my labour at an end till this magician is my prisoner.”— “At present,” replied Sarmak, “he is gone to his great preceptor, whose name is Kamlak, the mighty magician. This last exacts from his disciples the homage due to the Great Creator.”— “Know you ought of his abode?” inquired Hatim. “Full well,” answered Sarmak, “for once every year we used to visit him and do him homage, and if you will accept of my guidance, I am ready to conduct you thither.”
Ere Hatim would trust his guide, he had him solemnly initiated in the mysteries of his own faith; and when about to set out on their journey, Sarmak drew his attention to a forest close by, saying, “Those trees you behold are the remains of the magician’s army, and here they must rest till the last trumpet shall sound, unless your superior skill restore them to their original form. Hatim took a cup full of water, and breathing over it, he pronounced the divine name, and handing the cup to Sarmak, he said to him, “Go and sprinkle a few drops of this liquid among the trees.”
Sarmak received the liquid as ordered; and as soon as he had sprinkled the same upon the trees, these were restored to their original shape of human creatures. They asked Sarmak, “What has become of our great master the magician?”— “Know ye not,” replied Sarmak, “that the slave of the fiend, by means of his enchantment, transformed you all into trees; and that you owe your deliverance to the more potent art of Hatim, the true servant of the Almighty? He it was who blew with his breath on a cup full of water, and pronounced a charm which all the powers of hell cannot withstand. He then gave me the water; and the moment I sprinkled the same over you by the blessing of Allah you resumed your primitive form. As to your late master, Sam Ahmar, he has made his escape from before the brave Hatim, and now he holds commune with Kamlak, chief of enchanters. But tell me, friends,” continued Sarmak, “what were your thoughts when thus transformed, and what did you feel when you stood under the appearance of trees?”— “In the first place,” said they, “as we were about to fly, we felt all at once our feet cleave to the earth, so that we had not the power of moving; then a most painful sensation seized our whole bodies; but now blessings upon Hatim, we are again ourselves. Truly he is most powerful to have obtained such a victory over our sovereign, and hence forth Hatim only shall receive our services.”
Having come to this resolution, they one and all marched and presented themselves to Hatim, and making profound obeisance, they said, “Brave Hatim! we have hitherto served Sam Ahmar; but now we tender our services to you, who have so kindly rescued us though we lately sougt your life.” Hatim received them graciously; and having pronounced the sacred charm, he breathed on all of them, so that they became perfectly free from the enchantments of their late master. This done, they said to him, “Noble sir, whither will you now lead us?”— “I have not yet done with Sam Ahmar,” replied Hatim, “for till I have made him my prisoner, I can attend to nothing else. If he should of his own free will give me his daughter in marriage, I shall let him escape with life, otherwise I am resolved to slay him.”— “And may we ask,” said his companions, “how you became acquainted with the magician’s daughter?”— “As I lately happened to journey through a certain desert,” replied Hatim, “my attention was drawn to a large tree on the border of a lake; there, to my astonishment, I beheld the head of the magician’s daughter suspended to the highest branch, while the heads of her attendants hung lower down on the tree.”
In short, Hatim detailed to his hearers the whole affair up to that moment, and in conclusion said, “On her account have I journied hither; what reception I met with from her father, you have yourselves witnessed. I hope, however, that in the end the Almighty will render me victorious; and should it be agreeable to His divine will, I will slay the magician even on the very threshold of his grand preceptor to whom he has just gone, nay, the master himself shall not escape me.”— “Have a care, noble Hatim,” said his attendants, “the enchantment of Kamlak is the most potent in existence.”— “Fear not for that,” rejoined Hatim; “but if you wish to see real sport, come with me, if your hearts fail ye not.”— “You have already restored us from death to life,” said they; “it shall never be said then that we lacked either honour or courage so far as to desert you. Lead, then, wheresoever you will and thither shall we follow you.”
On hearing this declaration, Hatim expressed his satisfaction; and having invited them to follow, he set out for the mountain where dwelt Kamlak, the grand magician. His attendants, however, not liking the length of the journey, said to him, “Brave sir, our late sovereign, Sam Ahmar, was wont to carry us to this mountain in less than the space of a day.”— “But,” replied Hatim, “ye know well that he did so by means of his enchantment.”— “And can you not do the same?” rejoined his followers; “assuredly you are more cunning in the magic art than our master, otherwise you could not have conquered him. The power of Sam Ahmar was such that he could reduce a mountain to an atom, and magnify a particle of dust to the size of a mountain; yet this mighty enchanter fled from before you, and unless you were thoroughly skilled in the mystic art, you could not think of pursuing him.”
Here Sarmak checked their speech, saying, “Fools that you are, Hatim uses no enchantment; but well I know, from what I have already witnessed of him, that he will soon conquer Sam Ahmar, even if aided by Kamlak his great master.”— “My friends,” said Hatim, “a heavenly man hath taught me a divine charm, and whenever I utter the same, no enchantment can be of any avail against me. With this sacred charm, the magician has no power to cope.”
In short, they all marched onwards with Hatim at their head, and very soon found themselves on road of which they were utterly ignorant. All at once they arrived on the bank of a lake of the purest water; and as their thirst was great, they began to drink copiously. But, lo! the moment they had done drinking, the water began to gush out at the soles of their feet, as the spring issues from the fountain.
Hatim astonished at this strange occurance, refrained from tasting the water, thirsty as he was. He at length asked his companions how they felt themselves, but no answer did he receive; they stood like statues with their eyes fixed upon him. Thus passed the whole of that night Hatim suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst. When morning dawned, he looked at the faces of his attendants, which were all swelled up like so many leathern bottles, so that their eyes even could not be seen. His sorrow was beyond control; but at length he reflected that what he saw might be the effect of enchantment. He therefore pronounced the sacred charm, and in an instant the swelling abated: he repeated the same, and from every part of their bodies a green coloured liquid was seen to issue. A third time he uttered the divine words, and the result was, that his companions received the full enjoyment of all their faculties.
Hatim’s joy was now equal to his previous sorrow, while he listened to the grateful prayers of his rescued followers. At length he asked them, “Can you, my friends, explain the cause of your late calamity?”— “The cause is evident,” they replied, “this is the road by which the magician travelled, and he it was who enchanted the water of the lake.” On hearing this, Hatim as usual pronounced his charm, and breathed on the water. It first became agitated like the boiling ocean, and its colour was red: then it changed to green, and gradually settling, it became pure as crystal. Hatim, now assured that no traces of the enchantment remained about the water, drank of it freely, and invited his companions to do the same without fear. He also enjoined them to bathe therein, as an excellent remedy for their feverish bodies.
All of them accordingly allayed their thirst, and bathed their bodies in the now pure and wholesome lake, whereby every trace of their late calamity left them, and their confidence in the power of Hatim became complete. They tendered him their sincere gratitude, and said, “Forward brave Hatim! we will follow you even until death in your contest with the magician Sam Ahmar and his master Kamlak, for you are far greater and better than they.” Having received this assurance, Hatim resumed his journey, and his companions joyfully followed.
Meanwhile Sam Ahmar, defeated and downcast, fled to the presence of Kamlak. The latter observing his dejected state, asked him, “What misfortune hath befallen thee, that thou comest in such woful plight?”— “Great master,” replied the magician, “I come to implore thine aid. Hatim, my superior in the magic art, hath expelled me from my residence, and hither have I fled to scape his vengeance.” Kamlak enraged at this intelligence, said, “Rest thee content, my son, I shall soon vanquish this Hatim, and having made him my captive, resign him to thy disposal.”
Immediately Kamlak commenced his enchantment, and took measures to fortify mountain which he inhabited. In an instant the whole mountain was wrapt in flames, so bright as to leave on distinction between night and day. Four days after, Hatim arrived, and his companions addressing him, said, “This is, indeed, the mountain where Kamlak dwells; but why does it thus burn? Most assuredly this is caused by his enchantment.”
Hatim devoutly recommended himself to heaven; pronounced the sacred words of the blessed Khizr, and immediately the flames ceased to issue from the mountain. Kamlak was soon informed of his foe’s approach and how he had quenched the flames by the mere breath of his mouth. A second time he tried the power of his art in a different manner. On all sides of Hatim and his companions floods of water were seen to rush, as if the whole ocean had burst from its dark channels. “Help us, Hatim,” exclaimed his friends, “or we shall all drowned; these waters are the creation of Kamlak.” Hatim repeated his spell; blew with his breath on the waters, which instantly stood still, and in a short time no trace of them was left. Kamlak was highly mortified in seeing his power a second time defied, and once more he and his skilful disciple Sam Ahmar renewed their attack. The clouds began to shower stones of five to ten mauns in weight, but Hatim was prepared for this also. He and his friends sat down secure under the power of the sacred spell, while the storm for three days and nights fell harmless around them. At length, when the heap of stones beside them reached the height of a mountain, so that nothing else was visible, Hatim once more pronounced his charm, and all was annihilated; after which, he boldly marched towards the mountain. The arch magician then uttered an incantation, whereby the mountain entirely disappeared from Hatim’s sight: he however, nothing daunted, sat down with his companions, who were astonished at this last feat of the magicians; and having uttered his powerful spell, he awaited the result. After about three days the mountain again appeared, and without further interruption Hatim and his friends began to ascend.
Meanwhile the attendants of Kamlak informed him that Hatim and his followers were almost at hand. On hearing this, the great magician instantly formed a canopy of clouds three thousand cubits above the summit of the mountain. Thither Kamlak and Sam Ahmar with all their attendants transported themselves, and made every entrance fast against their enemies. Hatim at length reached the summit of the mountain, where he beheld a spacious city. On entering, he found it full of the best of food and fruits, also the most delicious of wines, with everything that could excite the palate. His companions immediately began to eat; but the moment they tasted this hellish fare, they became inflated like bottles, as had previously happened at the enchanted lake. Hatim at once discovered that the arch magician had laid this snare for him. He took a cup full of water as previously, and having pronounced the charm over it, he gave it them to drink. As soon as they tasted of this precious draught, the effects of the enchantment ceased. Hatim then breathed over the whole of the victuals, and said to his friends, “Now you may eat your full, for the food is become wholesome.” After their hunger was passed, he asked them whether they knew into what part of the mass of clouds above them the magicians had betaken themselves. They replied, that Kamlak and his disciple were in a cloud of the shape of an immense dome that howred above the rest.
Hatim pronounced the sacred name, and seven times blew his breath towards the heaven, when all at once the mass of clouds with the whole of the magicians fell with a crash on the top of the mountain. Hatim’s enemies were so astounded by the fall, that they became an easy prey. Their limbs were disjoined, and many of them were crushed to atoms, and their polluted souls hurled to hell. Sam Ahmar and his preceptor Kamlak soon recovered their senses, and fled they knew not whither along the mountain. On a sudden they plunged headlong over a precipice, and their sinful souls to the prince of darkness.
It may be easily conceived that Hatim’s joy was great at the total defeat of his enemies. He devoutly bowed his head to the dust, and poured out his thanks to God, the giver of victory. This done, he addressed Sarmak, “To thee, my friend, I owe a boon. I promised thee that on defeating these magicians I should bestow their kingdom on thee. This promise I am ready to fulfil, but on condition that thou wilt acknowledge no other God but the only true and Almighty Creator, and that thou wilt protect his worshippers from all injury and oppression.” Having thus addressed his friend, he summoned to his presence the rest of his attendants, and said, “I here in the presence of you all appoint Sarmak your future sovereign, whom you shall obey; and you must above all things acknowledge the true and living God, to whom you shall consider yourselves as servants, and you shall worship him night and day, for of a surety, if you act uprightly, he will reward you accordingly. Meanwhile, farewell! I must hasten to the presence of the queen of beauty, Zarinpash.”— “God be with you, brave man,” they all exclaimed, “rest assured that we shall strictly abide by your orders, and never will disobey the ruler whom you have appointed over us.”
Thus parted Hatim with the subjects of the late magician. Night and day he hurried onwards till he reached the enchanted lake. There he found several of the damsels whom he had formerly seen, stationed as sentinels near the place. “Whence and what are you?” cried the first of them he met. “I am,” replied he “the same who passed several days in your society as I lately travelled this way; I even shared your penance, for my head was for some days suspended to the branches of the tree that overhangs yonder lake; I pray you, convey my most courteous greeting to the beautiful queen, your mistress.” The fair sentinel ran to her sovereign with this intelligence; saying, “Noble mistress, a young man, whose name Hatim, stands at your gate; he once passed some days with us when under the influence of the enchantment, and now he craves admission into your royal presence.”
The queen, after some consideration, said, “Where can Hatim have been since that time? I believe, however, he has since then journeyed to the mountain of Ahmar, and most likely he will be able to furnish us with some things of my father; go you and ask if this is the case, and if so, admit him.” The damsel made the necessary inquiry, and was answered in affirmative by Hatim, thus, “The magician was one who feared not God, and now his soul is with the ruler of hell, where he receives the reward due to his iniquities, for verily he has been cut off in the midst of his crimes; but all this must be detailed in the presence of the queen.” The sentinel returned and stated to her mistress what Hatim had told her. On hearing this sad news, the queen was exceedingly grieved, and tears fell sopiously from her eyes. Her damsels endeavoured to console her, saying, “Royal mistress, to weep for the death of such a father as yours is really a crime. It is certain that had not your father died, we should have still remained in the bonds of his cruel enchantment; but now let us introduce Hatim, and ask of him the circumstance.” The queen assented, and Hatim, by her request, approached the royal presence. Zarinpash, arrayed in most splendid apparel, sat upon an emerald throne studded with jewels the most costly.
Hatim cast a single look at the queen; senses abandoned him, and he fell lifeless before her. Alarmed at his apparent illness, she hastily rose up, and seizing a phial of rose-water, sprinkled part of it on his face. When his senses were restored, the queen ordered for him a splendid couch set with gold and made him sit beside her, and in the sweetest tones he ever heard, she began to converse with him on the subject of his journey and the death of her father.
Hatim detailed all that he had seen, and suffered and acted, without the least reservation; and added, “For thee fair queen, I have undergone all these perils and toils. May I hope that my afflictions will bring forth the fruit of joy, and that you will reward my pains with the pleasure of your society, for without you I would sooner die than live.” The damsels in attendance all supported Hatim’s suit, and said, “Our gracious sovereign, this is the renowned prince of Arabia; happy for you was the day when he came here. He love you sincerely; oh, leave him not to despair. Think not of your father’s death, for he was a magician who delighted in cruelty and oppression. Well has it been for mankind that this brave youth has ri dthe world of such a monster.
At last the queen consented, and the usual matrimonial ceremonies being gone through, she was wedded to Hatim; who, when on the point of giving himself up to the pleasure of her society, all at once became dejected and thoughtful. He remembered his friend Munir, the Assyrian prince, and the thoughts of the pangs he must endure so affected Hatim that a trembling seized his whole body. His bride observed his emotion, and stood in the utmost perplexity thinking that she was herself the occasion of it. “Alas!” said she “what have I done in his sight that he should view me with such aversion; or what can I do to arrive at the cause of his uneasiness?” The queen resourceless as she was, remained silent, when at length Hatim observed that she was affected by his strange conduct; he therefore resolved to explain to her the whole affair, in order to clear himself of disrespect towards her; “My soul and life,” said he, “why are you cast down? why should the sun and moon be obscured? Know, my beloved, that I have left my home for the sake of the Assyrian prince Munir, who is deeply enamoured of Husn Banu. This lady has proposed seven questions, and her fair hand shall be the reward of him who may solve them. The Assyrian prince in vain made the attempt, and on his failure, was wandering he knew not whether. I found him in the deserts of Arabia; and having returned with him to Shahabad, I undertook to solve the questions, and at present my friend resides in one of the caravanserais of that city. I have already travelled and found out the solutions of three of these enigmas, and now I am in quest of the fourth. When I saw you, however, I forgot myself and the rest of the world, and now when it has pleased God the Supreme to unite us in the bonds of love, the thoughts of my despairing friend have disturbed my soul. Yea, I have made a vow that I should perform my utmost to serve the Assyrian prince; and to me all worldly pleasures are forbidden, till he has obtained the object of his desire. It would then be highly improper that I should give myself up to enjoyment while he lives on the pangs of expectation; I must therefore proceed instantly to the city of Karam.”— “And what is to become of me in the meantime?” said his lovely bride. “I intend,” replied Hatim, “to convey you to Yemen, my native country, where my father is king.”
In short, Hatim sent his bride with all her attendants to his father’s dominions in Arabia, while he himself proceeded to Karam, which he reached in the course of a few days. On meeting some of the people there, he asked them “Pray, friends, can you tell me if there is a man in this place who exclaims, ‘He who speaks the truth is always tranquil.’ ”— “Truly, stranger,” said they, “there is no man here such as you inquire for; but we know of a man of extreme old age who has written above his door these very words.”— “Can you tell me,” asked Hatim, “where he lives?”— “His residence,” replied they, “is about three farasangs from this city, in a village called Old Karam, for there the city Karam once stood.”
Hatim immediately set out, and in the course of that afternoon arrived at the village of Old Karam. There he beheld a splendid mansion, on the door of which was written the very words of the enigma. He went up to the gate and knocked with his hand; whereupon a voice from within reached his ear, saying, “Stranger, whence art thou, and what is thy business here?”— “I am from Shahabad,” replied Hatim, “and my business is with the owner of this mansion.” The janitor hastened to his master with this intelligence, and was ordered to admit Hatim without delay.
The master of the house, an elderly man, received Hatim with due courtesy, and hospitably entertained him with food and drink. After he had refreshed himself, his host asked him, “Pray tell me, stranger, what is the cause of your journey hither, and from what country are you? it has never been known that more than two foreigners have yet visited this place, and these two you are one.” — “Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “I am a native of Yemen; and I came hither from the city of Shahabad, where dwells an Assyrian prince, by name Munir. This noble youth is desperately in love with Husn Banu, the queen of that city; and he cannot acquire the object of his wish, except he procure the solution of seven questions which the fair lady has proposed. Three of these I have already answered, and now I am in quest of the fourth, which is no other than the words written above your door.”
The aged man, delighted with Hatim’s statement, replied, “Brave Arab! thou art truly noble; and long will thy fame survive thee in the world. Assuredly there lives not the man who would, for the sake of another, encounter such toils and perils as thine. But to-day thou hast come from afar, and it is fit that thou shouldst repose for the night; to-morrow I shall explain to thee the circumstance connected with the words written on my door.”— “I am willing to comply with your hospitable injunction,” rejoined Hatim, “but yet there is one thing which I should wish to ask of you. All the people of Karam told me that your age was far beyond ordinary; yet you seem to me little past the prime of life, and not a hair of your head yet grey. Is it true, then, as they say, that you have lived since the time when the city of Karam stood on this spot?”— “Brave Hatim!” replied the aged man, “retire to rest for this night and to-morrow you shall be fully informed of all you ask.”
Hatim accordingly betook himself to repose, and passed the night in pleasant slumbers. When morning came, he arose and after the joying the banquet of his host, he renewed the subject of the preceding evening. The aged man replied, saying, “Listen then Hatim: it is now seven hundred years since Karam stood here; but my age is really eight hundred years, however I may appear to you. In my youth I was a gamester, and night and day my whole business was gambling. One day it happened that my fortune forsook me, and I lost everything I possessed. Thus destitute, I sallied out as soon as it was dark, in order to rob or steal, as might be most convenient. I considered at the same time, that in attacking the poor and humble I should likely have nothing for my trouble; I resolved, therefore, to attempt the palace of our king. I softly approached the walls of the royal residence, and fastened my scaling-ladder, made of ropes, to one of the windows. When all was quiet, I entered one of the apartments, which happened to be that in which the king’s daughter slept. All the attendants of the youthful queen lay senseless outside the apartment. I seized on all her gold and jewels as likewise the golden lamp that burned beside her, and unobserved made my escape from the palace. In my flight I came to a certain desert where I met a gang of thieves busily occupied in the division of their spoils. The moment these saw me, they shouted out, ‘Stand, traveller, tell us who thou art, and whence thou comest.’ I told the thieves all the occurrences of my past life, and how I had broken in upon the king’s palace, and carried off his daughter’s jewels. I then displayed to their astonished sight a very large ruby, which they no sooner saw than the edge of their avarice was whetted, and they were about to wrest it from me by main force, when lo! a tremendous sound like the voice of a giant issued from the desert, so loud that the earth trembled under us. The thieves terrified, betook themselves to flight, while I stood revetted to the spot where I was.
“The person from whom this voice issued approached me, and sternly said, ‘Tell me truly who thou art, and whence comest thou here?’ I told him every circumstance of my wicked life, and showed him the treasure I had so unlawfully obtained, not concealing the high-prized ruby. ‘’Tis well for thee,’ said he, ‘that thou hast told me the truth. I forgive thee thy crimes, and leave thy treasure to thine enjoyment; but swear to me solemnly that thou wilt henceforth avoid gambling.’ I then made a vow in the presence of heaven and that formidable being, that I should never gamble. ‘Well,’ said my strange monitor, ‘keep thine oath sacred, and the years of thy life shall reach nine hundred.’
“Thus we parted, and I returned to this spot, which was then a populous city, and with part of my wealth built this mansion. Some of my old aquaintance envied my prosperity, and informed the superintendant of the city, that I had lately been a poor man, and now that I was possessed of immense wealth, so as to build a mansion like that of a prince; ‘assuredly,’ added they, ‘he cannot have come by such treasures honestly.’ The magistrate sumoned me to his presence: to him also I detailed all that I had done, without the least reserve. When he heard my statement, he conducted me as in duty bound, before the king, whom I had so greatly offended.
“To his majesty, also, I told the whole truth. When the king heard me to an end, he freely forgave me my crime, and gave strict orders that none should thenceforth upbraid me on that subject, ‘This man added his highness,’ has all along adhered to the truth, and therefore he deserves my forgiveness. I have never yet seen or heard of so daring a thief as he is that would have the manliness to confess his guilt as he has done.’ The king not only left me in possession of what I had stolen, but also gave me gold to such amount that it is not even yet expended. On that day, as soon as I returned from the royal presence, I wrote on door, ‘He who speaks the truth is always at ease,’ as a warning to every one who might see it.”
When the man of truth had finished his history, he said to Hatim, “Now, generous Arab, you have heard my tale; and I am truly happy in having had the power thus far to serve you. Besides yourself, noble Hatim, there lives not on earth the man who would encounter the dangers and fatigues of the journey from here to Arabia.” A few days after, Hatim took leave of his aged host, and began to retrace his way to Shahabad. In the course of his journey, the thoughts of Zarinpash, his lovely bride, constantly occupied his mind. In vain did he think of his friend Munir, and of Husn Banu’s seven questions; he therefore resolved, ere he returned to Shahabad, to visit his bride in his paternal halls.
One day, as he arrived at the borders of Yemen, to his great joy he came to a fountain of pure water. On his nearer approach to the sweet spring, he observed a brace of the fowls called butimar;* and as he knew the languages of all animals, he attentively listened to the following conversation of the birds; “My dear mate,” said the female butimar, “you shall not thus depart; I pray you abandon all thoughts of this undertaking.”— “Cease thy foolish prating,” returned the male, “what I am about to do is a service acceptable to the Creator, to whom all creature are responsible; and darest thou try to prevent me, merely to suit thine own whim? When did a wise man ever regard the advice of a woman? Are you not all false; and why then should I be guided by thee? Have you not heard the story of the king, who was heartily ashamed of his own folly in being misled by a woman?”
The female butimar having expressed great curiosity to hear the story of the king, the male thus began: “Once upon a time certain king went out on a hunting excursion; and after toiling the whole day, he caught nothing. As it drew towards evening he happened to lose his way, and wandering through the desert apart from his attendants, he at length came to a beautiful garden. He entered, and after walking about for some time, he came to a palace close to which was an artificial pond of water. The king being greatly fatigued, sat down on the brink of the pond, and as he was performing his ablutions, his hand caught hold of an iron chain. This he began to pull towards him, but found great resistance, as if some great weight were attached to it.
“The king took both his hands, and pulling with his whole force, he at last succeeded in bringing to land a chest to which the chain was fastened. His curiosity made him open the chest, for the key was tied to it, and what was his astonishment when, on opening, he beheld inside a woman of surpassing beauty. He stood for some minutes completely lost in admiration of her charms, without the power of moving a muscle.
“At length the woman broke silence, saying, ‘Noble sir, be not thus bewildered I am made of flesh and blood as you are.’ Hereupon she came out of the chest, and having taken out with her a bottle and goblet, she offered the prince a draught, which he drained to the bottom. In short, they both sat down on the green bank, and conversed together, as is the wont of lovers. At length the king remembered his situation, and the anxiety which his attendants must feel on his account. He then rose up to take his departure; and having pulled a valuable ring from his finger, he offered it to the lady, saying, ‘Accept this as a remembrance of me, for I must now take my leave of you; I hope, however, we may yet meet, and on your shewing me this ring, I shall know her with whom I have passed the most pleasant moments of my life.’
“The lady, on hearing this declaration of the prince, laughed aloud, and drew from her bosom a whole string of rings, saying ‘Noble sir, you must know that my husband is extremely jealous of me, and cannot even endure my residing in a place inhabited by mankind. He has therefore conveyed me to this solitary garden in the midst of the desert. Every night he comes and lives with me in this palace. When he departs in the morning, he shuts me up in this heavy chest, with a sufficient allowance of food and drink, and then casts chest and all into the lake where you found me. Many princes and nobles have lost their way when hunting in the neighbourhood, as you have done and on coming hither discovered my prison. These also released me for a time from my durance, enjoyed my society, and gave me rings at their departure, of which here is ample proof. I keep the rings indeed by me but their number is so great, that I really cannot recollect which is which; therefore, brave sir, I shall willingly accept and preserve your ring, but I cannot take upon me to remember, the giver.’ The prince, on hearing this impudent confession shut the woman in the chest as she requested, and having consigned her to her watery dungeon, he made the best of his way house. On his arrival at the royal residence, his attendants observed that his brow was clouded and his heart ill at ease. At length, the ministers of state ventured to approach him, and humbly represented their sorrow for his sadness, hoping that they themselves were not the cause.
“His Majesty related the whole advanture as it had happened, and expressed the most thorough contempt for womankind in general. The prime minister, on hearing the king‘s adventure, assured him that the fact was notorious throughout every city in his dominions, and that it was in vain to be disheartened for the inconstancy of women. The king at length banished the subject from his thoughts and resumed his wonted cheerfulness and affability towards his faithful servants.”*
Thus ended the story of the butimar; after which he said to his mate, “In like manner, I doubt not, you are as faithless to me, and why should I be guided by your advice and prevented thereby from doing what I consider right? Do you think I am to be like Hatim Tai here, who undertook to serve Munir the Assyrian prince, and has now withdrawn his hand from his noble task, owing to the charms of a woman, such is the power of the female sex over the wisest of men?”
When Hatim heard the edifying discourse of the butimar, he felt ashamed of himself, and thanked his Creator that had thus warned him of his backsliding in due time. Instead therefore of continuing his course to Yemen as he intended, he turned aside, and took the road to Shahabad. On his arrival there the people of Husn Banu joyfully received him; and having conducted him to the caravanserrai, they gave intelligence to their mistress of his safe return. Husn Banu invited him to her palace, and after hospitably entertaining him, she received a full account of his adventure. Hatim then returned to the caravanserai where he passed the night in the society of his friend the prince of Assyria. Next day he revisited Husn Banu, in order to be informed of nature of the fifth question. The lady most courteously received him in her palace, and said to him, “Brave Hatim! the fifth task which I have to impose on you is, ‘To bring me an account of the mountain called Nida.’ Hatim then took his leave of Husn Banu; and ere his departure, he once more had an interview with the Assyrian prince, and said to him a parting, ‘My dear friend, be of good cheer. I am now about to proceed on my fifth expedition, which, I trust, God will render propitious; meanwhile, farewell!”
The residence of the women.
↩The word in the original is saratan, which is translated crab in the European dictionaries, and which the Oriental lexicons pass over as a well-known fish.
↩As this injunction may appear a little unreasonable in a country where polygamy is lawful, the translator avails himself of the following remark on the subject by a very eminent Orientalist, M. GARCIN DE TASSY. In that learned author’s work, entitled, “Exposition de la Foi Musulmane (Paris 1822), he states, in a note to the preface, page 3: “La polygamie n’est pas chez les Musulmans aussi commune qu’on pourrait la croire. D’abord il faut avoir une certaine aisance pour entretenir plus d’une femme; et quand on a cette aisance, il faut encore vaincre la repugnance qu’ont en général les parens de donner une fille à un homme déjà marié; ou qui ne leur promet pas de n’voir qu’elle seule pour épouse.”
↩We must suppose (though the author does not say so) that the charm could affect only her who drank first, as it would have been rather awkward they were all to fall in love with the happy youth.
↩A collyrium with which the Persians tinge their eyebrows.
↩The great names, or attributes of the deity are one hundred, and the repetition of them constitutes part of a Mussulman’s devotion. The formula commences thus: “There is no God but God. He is most merciful, most gracious, the ruler of all, most holy.” &c.— Vide Tychsen Elementale Arab, p. 22.
↩Khizr is the name of a character famous among the Mahommedans. They say that he was vizier to Iskander Dhu’lkornain, that he discovered the fountain of immortality and drank thereof, in consequence of which he still lives on the earth, where he will be allowed to remain till the day of judgment. The word Khizr signifies verdant or green, which is their favourite colour, having been worn by Muhammed himself, so that the Khwaja’s habit is quite in character.
↩Iblees is one of the names of Shaitan or the devil, and signifies (according to the Farhang-i-Mathnavi), desperate, or hopeless of mercy from the Divine Creator. The Mahomedans believe that God created the devil of the purest fire, admitted him into heaven, and appointed him to the high office of the Lord Lieutenant of the moon; but owing to his inordinate pride and ambition, he was deprived of his situation, and utterly expelled from the higher regions,
↩As I know not the English name for this bird, I shall add the description given of him in the Persian Lexicons, Borhani Kati, and Farhangi Mathnavi “The butimar (called also, ghamkhar, or the sorrowful), is a bird that frequents the banks of rivers. He constantly mourns from fear that the water should become exhausted; and under that impression, however great his thirst, he never drinks. In Arabic he is called yamam.” I may say that, in Richardson’s Dictionary, butimar is translated a heron, and yamam a turtle-dove.
↩The reader may remember a tale similar to the above in the introduction to the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. There is another of the same kind in Nakhshebi’s, Tales of a Parrot, near the commencement of the work. In fact, Oriental authors of romance frequently indulge in epesodes which tend to place the conduct of their ladies in no very favourable light. In the Bahar-i-Danish, a work written by Einayatullah, in the most flowery style of which the Persian is capable there is a series of tales whose object is to dissuade a yonng prince from marrying a beautiful lady, of whom he is enamoured. One of these thus concludes: “O my prince, to he allured with the outward beauty of women, and to become a wanderer in the waste of madness, is to act contrary to the institutes of wisdom; for a life of sorrow follows such short-lived pleasures. The adorners of the assembly of learning and wisdom have by no means approved of such conduct, because the roses on the cheeks of women are unblest by the tinge and perfume of constancy,
It may be observed that some of Boccacio’s tales in the Decameron, bear great resemblance to those in the Bahar-i-Danish, but which is the imitation and which the original it is difficult to say.
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