Hatim’s Journey to the Mountain of Nida— His lot among the Cannibals— His arrival in Hindustan, the Paradise of regions.
THE historians inform us, that as Hatim was journeying towards the desert of Nida, he continued to ask his way in every city and town through which he passed. In the course of six months, as he was approaching a large city, what does he see, but all the inhabitants assembled in a spacious plain without the walls. Hatim thought within himself, “What can be the cause of this concourse? I must go and inquire.” With this view, he was hastening towards them; and as soon as the people saw him, they exclaimed in a loud voice, “Welcome, stranger; may your arrival be happy; we are here waiting for you.”
When Hatim found himself amidst the crowd, he looked around him, and saw, to his surprise, large tables plentifully furnished with food and drink of every variety. He also observed a coffin laid out in state, and surrounded by the relations of the deceased. The chief of the assembly, addressing Hatim, said to him, “Such are our customs, stranger, that when any of our people die, whether rich or poor, we thus assemble in the plain without the city, and prepare a banquet of the most delicious viands. At the same time, it is one of our rules that we taste not of the food, nor bury our dead, till the arrival of a stranger among us. When a stranger arrives, we make him first eat of our fare, after which, we ourselves feast. This is now the seventh day that we have been here without attaining the object of our expectation. Every day we had the feast ready; and when evening came, and the stranger arrived not, we sent the food back to the city for our wives and children, for they are not prohibited from eating. As for ourselves, we have neither eaten bread nor drunk water for the last seven days. You may guess, then, noble stranger, with what joy we this day hail your arrival; let us now speedily bury our dead, that we may break our long fast.”
Hatim observed to them, “What becomes of your dead, and how do you contrive to live should it so happen that no stranger visits you for the space of a month?”— “That,” replied they, “is a rare, nay, an improbable case, for we are never above a week without seeing a stranger; and if it should happen that none comes, we are allowed to break our fast on the fifteenth day, and thus we do every fifteenth day till the stranger arrives: such is our law. With regard to our dead, no putrefaction takes place on them till the end of at least one month.”— “And may I ask,” rejoined Hatim, “what would you do with your dead, if you should not be visited by a stranger even in the course of a month?” — “If, by the expiration of that period,” replied they, “the dead body should become offensive to the smell, we bury it, and in such a case all the inhabitants of the city, both men and women, are made to fast by day for six months after, and we are allowed only to take a little food after sunset. This penance we undergo for the good of the soul of the deceased: for when the body thus putrifies, we look upon it as a proof that the deceased had led a sinful life, and we accordingly offer up our prayers in his behalf before the throne of the Most High.”
Hatim still continued his inquiries, saying, “But if in these six months of fasting another should die, what would you do?”— “We should keep him in the same way,” they replied, “till the arrival of a stranger among us, or failing this at the end of a month we should bury him if necessary, and betake ourselves to fasting and prayer on his behalf till the expiration of six months, after which we should hold a feast, and indulge in eating and drinking, and bestow alms in abundance on the poor of our city, and give gifts to all that are in need, and do acts of kindness towards each other, We then walk in porcession to the tomb of the deceased, where we again distribute money among all the poor and helpless, after which we resume our usual occupations.”
While Hatim stood wrapt in wonder at this singular custom, the people bore the dead body into the interior of the house, and having stretched it on an elegant couch, they embalmed it with costly perfumes, and burnt frankincense around it, after which they brought in the food that they were to eat, and carried the same seven time round the couch. This done, the food was brought out and placed on tables when the chief of the assembly, addressing Hatim, said, “Worthy stranger, stretch forth thine hand and taste of our food. Thy compliance will greatly oblige us, as we shall then be at liberty to appease our hunger.” Hatim ate of the food as requested, and after him, all the people sat down and ate. The remains of the feast they sent back to the city for their women and children to feed on. They then changed their raiments, each clothing himself in a clean apparel; and having sent the clothes they had cast off to the fullers, they took up the dead body and proceeded towards the desert.
As they were about to depart, the chief said to Hatim, “Brave stranger, I hope you are not to leave us immediately; if then, you choose to rest a few days in our city, every attention shall be paid to you.” Hatim willingly accepted the invitation; and having entered the city, a splendid mansion was appointed for his residence, and the best of food and drink placed before him. Nor was this all: damsels of surpassing beauty were sent to entertain him with their enchanting society.
Hatim could not help wondering in his own mind at the strange customs of the city where he happened to arrive; however, he ate temperately of the food presented to him, and paid not the least regard to the beautiful damsels that attended him. In the course of a week the governor of the city, informed of Hatim’s affable disposition and temperate habits, sent for him; and after the usual salutations, said to him, “Noble stranger, I am so delighted with the accounts I hear of you, that I beg of you to take up your residence among us and my own daughter shall be your wife.” Hatim having thanked the governer for his kind offer, said that he had business on hand which admitted of no delay. “At least,” resumed the governor, “let me know the object of your journey, and I will do my utmost to aid you, or even accompany you in person, if it should any ways serve you.”— “Truly, sir,” said Hatim, “I am indebted to you for your goodness, but I should be sorry to let any one accompany me through the fatigues and perils which await me.”— “At all events,” said the governor, “let me know your business.”— “Willingly,” replied Hatim; “and if you can direct me on my way, it will serve me as much as if you accompanied me.”
Hatim then related every circumstance connected with Husn Banu, and her lover Munir; and how he had himself solved four of the lady’s questions, and was then in quest of the solution of the fifth, which was, to bring an account of the mountain of Nida. It is now,” concluded Hatim, “six months since I left Shahabad; I have wandered through many cities, and made inquiries of every person I met, but no one has been able to give the necessary information. If you, noble sir, can tell me where the mountain of Nida is situated, it will serve me as effectually as if you had accompanied me thither.”
The governnr was a man of years, and possessed of much information; he remembered, then, of having heard from the learned that a mountain of this name, of immense altitude, was situated towards the south in the regions of Zulmat.* He informed Hatim of the same, and further, that there was a city close to the mountain of the same name where the people were immortal; in these regions,” concluded he, “diseases and death are unknown, nor is there a tomb to be seen in all the place.” On hearing this statement, Hatim was highly delighted, and said, “Thither I must go as soon as possible.”— “But how,” rejoined his aged friend, “can you go there alone and unattended?”— “God will be my guide,” replied Hatim.
The governor then offered Hatim vast sums of gold and costly jewels, of which he accepted a small portion for defraying his expense by the way; and having caused the rest to be distributed among the poor, he resumed his journey. In the course of three months he arrived at a large city, around which he saw no tombs or receptacles for the dead, whereby he was satisfied that it was the city alluded to by his former friend. When Hatim entered the city, the people crowded around him, and began to question him, saying, “Tell us stranger, whence are you, and where are you going?”— “I am,” replied Hatim, “from Shahabad, and I am on my way to the mountain of Nida.”
“Stranger,” resumed the people, “abandon such thoughts: the mountain of Nida is far distant, and the road full of danger.”— “I fear no danger,” replied Hatim, “for my trust is in God, who is my conductor.”— “At least,” said they, “rest here for the night, as you are much fatigued.” Hatim accepted their hospitable invitation, and there reposed for the night.
It happened on that day that one of the inhabitants of the city fell sick; whereupon his relations assembled and instantly killed him, after which they divided his flesh into equal portions among themselves in order to be eaten. One of the people whom Hatim had conversed with on entering the city, being a relation to the slaughtered, received his portion of the flesh, and had it roasted for his evening meal in the house where Hatim resided. He then brought in a jug of water and two loaves, along with the flesh of his relation, and with eager hospitality addressed Hatim saying, “Stranger, I invite you to partake of my repast, for never in your life have you tasted of similar fare.”— “I believe,” replied Hatim, “I have eaten of the flesh of every carnivorous animal on the face of the earth, may I ask what animal has furnished this dish, since you imagine that I have not yet seen the like?” The man triumphantly replied, “What you say may be very true, but have you ever eaten of flesh of man, for such is the dish now before you!”
On hearing this, Hatim remained horror-struck, and thought within himself that this must be the city of the cannibals of whom he had before heard accounts, and that most probably they killed and ate every stranger that came near them. His host seemed to read his thoughts, and accordingly broke silence, saying, “Yes, this is the city of the cannibals, and the time is coming, stranger, when some of us shall feast upon you.” Hatim, thus aroused, said to the man, “Is it possible, sir, that you kill the helpless stranger, and then devour him? Have you not the fear of God before your eyes?”— “Brave Arab!” resumed the cannibal, “we are not quite so bad as you suppose, for we do not slay the traveller who comes among us knowing nothing of our customs.”— “You told me just now,” replied Hatim, “that this is man’s flesh before me; I concluded that it must have been that of a stranger, and not of one of your own tribe.”— “Quite the contrary,” rejoined the man of hospitality; “it is the custom of our city that when any one falls sick, his relations assemble and kill him, in order to put him beyond suffering.”— “Accursed be such inhuman practices,” replied Hatim; “know you not that the Creator of the universe at one time visits his creatures with sickness and when it pleases his divine will, bestows health? What then can be more heinous than to slay the sick with your own hand? The shedding of the innocent blood of so many thousands is a deed most revolting to humanity; nay, it is a sin for human eyes to look upon you.”
Hatim having thus spoken, rose up and fled into the desert. He halted not for the whole of that night, nor next day till sunset, when he thought himself far enough removed from the accursed city. Having slackened his pace a little, he continued to proceed leisurely till the following day, when the pangs of hunger quite overpowered him. Necessity forced him to commit what at another time he would have considered highly cruel— he killed a young fawn; and having kindled a fire with a flint, he sat down to dress some food. Meanwhile a lion stalked up to him; and Hatim, nothing daunted, said to the lion, “If thou art hungry, here is all the food that I possess: eat and be satisfied.”
The lion accordingly devoured the whole of the fawn, except the small portion that Hatim had on the fire; after which, he drank water from a fountain hard by and departed. Hatim having appeased his hunger, and allayed his thirst with water from the spring, and such fruit as the jungle produced, resumed his toilsome journey. After he had traversed the parched desert for a great part of the day, his thirst became excessive. At length he perceived at a distance the appearance of mountains rising above the plain. The sight cheered him, as he expected soon to quench his thirst in the cool streams whereby the hills are generally blessed. His disappointment however was grievous, when he found nothing but heaps of moving sand, thus formed by the blast of the simoom. Exhausted, he sat down underneath a solitary tree; and shortly after he observed a shekshar (a sort of waterfowl) close by him, and its wings quite wet. He rose with renewed strength and made towards the shekshar, which flew away at his approach. In that spot, however, he found a treasure— a spring of the purest water. He prostrated himself on the ground, and offered up thanks to the Bestower of Mercies; after which, he allayed his thirst at the spring, and resumed his journey.
After a long march through the desert, he at length saw symptoms of human habitation. Towards evening, as he was entering a highly cultivated country, he beheld a large fire kindled in a field, around which a crowd of people had assembled. Hatim, supposing it to be some display of public rejoicing, approached the people, and said to them, “Tell me, my friends, what country is this? what is the cause of your cutting the hair of your heads and faces in that fanciful manner? what are you doing, thus assembled round the fire? and why this immense pile of dried wood?”— “This,” replied the people, “is the funeral pile of one of our male relations, whose body is now consuming in the sacred flame; and along with him his widowed wife has burnt herself alive.”— “And do you not, then, bury your dead under the earth?” inquired Hatim, “and why did you cast the helpless widow into the flames? Assuredly the blood of the innocent is on your hands.”
“I perceive you are a stranger in this country,” replied the man whom Hatim had addressed; “this is the empire of India, and it is the custom of the Hindus that the widowed wife should burn herself alive on the funeral pile of her husband. We have not cast her by force into the fire, she hath burnt herself of her own free will.”— “Truly,” resumed Hatim, “but it is a most atrocious custom to burn the living with the dead!” and having thus spoken, he betook himself to the road. … …
All night Hatim continued his journey, and ere noon the following day he came to a large village. Fatigued, and exhausted with hunger and thirst, he entered the house of one of the villagers to procure rest and refreshment. He asked a drink of water from the man of the house, who immediately brought him a pitcher full of churned milk, and another of sweet milk. The man of the house having placed the milk before Hatim, hospitably addressed him, saying, “Stranger, here are two sorts of drink, both cool and refreshing; take either you choose and allay your thirst, for your lips are parched with heat and fatigue.” Hatim took first the churned milk; and having drained it to the bottom, he was about to drink the sweet milk, when his host observed to him, “Stranger, you lack food as much as drink; the rice is ready boiled for my morning meal, let me bring you a part of it, which you may eat along with the milk.” Hatim most courteously thanked his benevolent entertainer, and inwardly admired the unassuming kindness and real hospitality which he experienced in the Hindu cottage. Meanwhile his host returned with the boiled rice, and laid it before Hatim, who ate heartily of the same, and afterwards betook himself to repose. So exhausted was he by his late toils, that he awaked not till next morning, when his Indian friend addressed him, saying, “Noble stranger, the morning meal is ready, and I wait for your company ere I break my fast. You are, however, too much exhausted yet to resume your journey; I hope therefore you will rest here two or three days longer, till your strength is completely restored.”
Hatim arose, and after partaking of his host’s simple fare, he said to him, “Generous Hindu, the blessing of God will assuredly reward your benevolent actions, and your kindness to the stranger.”— “Brave Arab,” said the Hindu, “as yet I have done you very small service, and I shall not consider it in the light of hospitality unless you pass three days and nights under my roof.”— “If,” replied Hatim, “such is your pleasure, I willingly accept your invitation.”
The Hindu then entertained Hatim with accounts of his country, and at the next meal presented to him a variety of the most delicious food. Hatim was highly charmed with the manners of his host, his disinterested kindness, and the plain but healthy fare which was presented to him, so that in his rapture he exclaimed, “Surely Hindustan is the paradise of regions!” After various conversation, Hatim remarked to his host what he considered as a stain upon the Hindu character, otherwise so very amiable. “Excuse me, my kind host,” said he, “if I say that one custom peculiar to your country is decidedly bad, I mean the immolation of the living widow with the dead husband. I have been accustomed to see the dead consigned to the dust from which they came, and the sacrificing of the living is revolting to my ideas of humanity.”— “Noble Arab,” said the Hindu, “such is the opinion of strangers; but when you consider the affection that exists between the wife and husband, a tie by far the strongest in nature, you can easily conceive that when the one dies the other should find life insupportable: nay, it would be wonderful indeed if a tie so strong should admit of separation. Imagine not that we force the widow to burn herself on the pile. She follows her husband, of her own free will, with a joyful heart, as the only consolation left her upon earth. Of this, stranger, you may be fully satisfied, if you abide with us some days.”
It happened on that morning that the chief of the village, who had been for some time dangerously sick, died, leaving behind him four wives. One of these had two sons, another three daughters, and the other two no children. Towards evening preparations were made for the funeral, and the dead body borne out.* The four widows followed, dressed in their most costly raiments, adorned with all their jewels, with chaplets of the most fragrant flowers encircling their necks, and bunches of the sweetest fruits suspended around them. In their hands they held the sacred leaf of the betel-tree, which they from time to time chewed.
All the widows’ relations crowded round them, and supplicated them with tears not to cast away their lives; but they were inconsolable, and deaf to all entreaty. All this Hatim witnessed; and, resolved to be convinced by experience, he approached the widows, and said to them, “Fairest of women, what madness is this! Can it be possible that you sacrifice your lives, and abandon your children, in compliance with a custom so void of reason, so revolting to humanity?”
One of the ladies, with an angelic smile, replied, “Stranger Arab, I forgive you, as you know not the custom of our country, otherwise your rudeness is unpardonable, in daring thus to address us who are dead to the world. We follow our husband to heaven. In our lives we were happy together, and why should death part us? Where would be the humanity of making us linger in this world, when the Supreme decree hath called him hence? May God forbid that the deceit of Satan (on whom be curses) should so far mislead us as to forget our only beloved lord, and attach ourselves to another. Without him, our life would henceforth be a burden more intolerable than the torments of hell. Why then should we not accompany our best beloved? Why not burn on the same pile, that our ashes may mingle with his, while our souls wing their flight to the regions of the blessed?”
Thus spoke the widow of the chief, regardless of Hatim’s earnest entreaties. The pile was now ready, and the four victims, with frenzied enthusiasm, pulled off all their ornaments, and distributed them among their relations on all sides. They then ascended the pile, and placed themselves around the dead body of their husband. Two of them clasped each an arm in her bosom, and the other two his feet. Thus situated, they for the last time looked round, and gave a parting smile to their weeping relatives; after which, a vast quantity of dried wood was heaped over them, and the fire was applied all around.
Hatim scarcely believing what he saw, waited the result in anxious silence, for he expected to see them every moment rush from the flames. In this, however, he was disappointed; not a shriek was heard from the pile, nor the least appearance of any attempt to escape. At length the whole pile was reduced into a heap of ashes, over which Hatim shed tears as he contemplated the fate of the victims, while his generous heart admired their affection misplaced as it was.
At length the crowd dispersed to their homes; and as Hatim was quitting the scene with his Hindu entertainer, the latter observed to him, “Noble Arab, I hope you are now fully convinced that our women are not compelled to sacrifice themselves. It is purely an action of their own free will, and constitutes one of the noblest displays of conjugal affection.”— “You speak truly, generous Hindu,” replied Hatim, “yet, in my opinion, the best proof of constancy in the wife to the deceased would be, to live singly after his death; and by rejecting the addresses of other lovers, convince the world of her sincerity. This would be an ordeal, perhaps, more trying than even the flames of the funeral pile.”
In a few days after, Hatim being completely recovered from his late fatigue, said to his host, “My dear friend, I must now part with you, for I am on a journey to explore the mountain of Nida.”— “Let me prevail upon you to go no farther,” said the Hindu, “for the route is long and dangerous, and it is not in man to reach your destined stage.”— “My trust is in God,” replied Hatim, “who can conduct me thither, and bring me back in safety.” Having thus spoken, Hatim resumed his journey, and night and day he advanced from city to city, and from town to town, till he reached the northern frontiers of India. After crossing an extensive desert, he saw a large city at a distance before him, and thanked his Creator that guided him once more into human habitations.
Within a short distance of the city gates, Hatim beheld a large concourse of people; and as he approached nearer, he could hear the sound of many voices, as if they were engaged in keen debate. On his arrival among them, he asked one of them, “Tell me, my friend, what is the cause of this uproar which I hear?”— “The daughter of our chief is dead,” replied the man, “and they are insisting that her husband shall consent to be buried alive with her, a measure which he does not seem to relish: this, stranger, is the cause of the tumult which you now witness.”— “Worthy sir,” resumed Hatim, “is it your custom, too, to bury the living with the dead? I see this unfortunate man is any thing but compliant; surely you will not cast him alive into the tomb? Have you not in your hearts the fear of God, in whose hands are life and death?”
The chief himself having heard Hatim’s expostulation, said, “Hear me, stranger, before you comdemn us. This young man, who was my daughter’s husband, once came into our city a traveller like yourself. He took up his residence among us, and in the course of time fell desperately in love with my daughter. The flame was mutual, so that I had no objection to their union, provided he should conform with our custom, which is, that if the wife dies first, the husband shall be buried alive with her. To this he agreed, and now he will not perform his solemn promise.”
Hatim, on hearing the merits of the case, addressed the young man, and said, “Shame upon you, why do you not perform your promise? Life is at best but short, and altogether uncertain; and for this you are willing to stain your reputation!” The young man with tears in his eyes, said, “Generous stranger, have you too ranked yourself among my enemies? Let me ask you if such a custom would be tolerated in your own country?”
“That,” said Hatim, “is not the question at present, but whether you ought to fulfil your agreement.”— “It is madness,” replied the young man; “and while I live I will not submit to it.” When Hatim saw that, on the one hand the people would not inter the dead body; and, on the other, the husband would not consent to be buried alive, he took the latter aside, and whispered to him, “Do you consent to be buried, and at a proper opportunity, I pledge you my faith that I will release you.”— “But how am I to live in the tomb,” said the man, “till you aid in my resurrection?” — “Leave that to me,” said Hatim, “I will provide for you.”
Hatim then addressed the people aloud, and said, “The young man consents to be buried alive; but the tomb must be made like a cell as it is in his own country, with an aperture left to let in air and the light of day. If therefore you form the tomb like a cell, with a small window, the young man is willing to comply with your custom.”— “So much indulgence,” replied the chief, “it is not in my power to grant; but I am ready to refer the case to the Cazi, and abide by his decision.” The parties concerned, along with Hatim, went forthwith to the judge of the village, who after a great deal of deliberation, decided that the young man should have a tomb made for him after the fashion of his own country; “for it would not become us,” said his worship, “to deal rigorously with him being a foreigner, although the law is in our favour.”
The people immediately set to work; and having finished the cell, they there incarcerated the surviving husband with the dead wife, and planted a guard over him to prevent his escape. As he was about to be shut up, Hatim gave him every assurance that he would release him at midnight, and therefore he might without fear comply with the custom of the place. The people having shut the tomb, which they secured with a large stone, strewed various flowers over and around it, so that the grave was covered with them. They then, except the sentinel, returned to the city, whither they conducted Hatim. They entertained him in the most hospitable manner, and provided him with an elegant mansion for his residence. Hatim having appeased his hunger and thirst, and enjoyed some hours of repose, began to watch an opportunity for rescuing his friend from the tomb.
When the silent hour of midnight had arrived, and all the people were asleep, Hatim stole out quietly, and made his way to the burial ground. But there he had to cope with a difficulty on which he had not calculated. It was one of the customs of that city, that when a person was buried, all the male relations of the deceased should fast, and watch and pray on the tomb for three days and nights without ever going near their wives and families; Hatim therefore was forced to keep aloof during the whole of that period. On the fourth night, however, when all the guards had retired to their houses, Hatim lost no time in visiting the tomb; meanwhile the unhappy inmate had full time to feel the horrors of his situation. Often did he weep and exclaim, “Fool that I was, to believe the promise of a false stranger! By his treachery, he prevailed upon me to shut myself up to perish in this dungeon, and now he has gone and left me to my fate! Alas, how dearly must I pay for my folly!”
Thus did the despairing young man fret and lament till the fourth evening, when hunger had so weakened him that he lay senseless as the dead around him. When Hatim reached the cell, he applied his mouth to the aperture, and in a soft voice said, “My dear friend, I am at last come to release you; if you are still alive, answer me.” But ere then the young man was so exhausted with hunger and despair, that the voice of aid reached not his ear. Hatim’s generous heart was grieved, for he thought the man must have certainly died. He hesitated whether he should clear away the earth and remove the stone. “It is in vain,” said he to himself, “the inmate is now no more; and heaven knows, I would willingly give my own life to save his.”
Again, Hatim thought it best not to desist while the least hope remained: he therefore repeated his former words, in a voice more loud and distinct; but still no answer returned from the mansion of the dead. Hatim gave way to grief and despair, for he now became fully convinced that his friend was dead, otherwise he would have heard the voice and returned an answer. A third time, however, in a still louder tone, Hatim exclaimed, “O my friend, if your life still remains, and is dear to you, answer me; otherwise, here shall you rest till the day of judgment. I have exerted all my power to save you, but God’s will be done.”
The young man was at length awakened from his trance. Senseless as he was, he recognised the voice of Hatim; he therefore with great effort drew near the window of his cell, and said, “Stranger, are you the man who engaged to relieve me, and are you come at last to fulfil your promise?” When Hatim heard this his joy was excessive; he devoutly thanked the Ruler of events, and said to the young man, “I am indeed the very person you allude to; rest still a little, till I make way for your escape.”
Hatim then cleared away the earth and masses of stone which composed the tomb; and having effected a passage sufficiently large, he took the hand of the almost lifeless young man, and brought him out into the open air. In a very short time the young man’s strength and spirits were restored; which, when Hatim observed, he said to him, “My good friend, you must lose no time in effecting your escape; fly, then, wherever you think proper.”— “My noble benefactor,” replied he, “my journey is long, and I have nothing wherewith to support myself.” Hatim immediately gave him a handful of gold pieces from his scrip, and urged his instant flight. The young man having thanked his benefactor, betook himself to the road, and escaped safe under the shades of night, while Hatim rebuilt the tomb as it was previously, and returned to his residence. He entered unobserved by any one; and having shut the doors, he laid himself down to rest in that happy state of mind which the virtuous alone can enjoy. He awaked not till the next morning was considerably advanced, and all the people astir and ready for their morning meal. Hatim then arose: and after partaking of their food, he thanked them for their hospitality, and took leave of them, saying, “I must now leave you, my friends, for I am bound for the mountain of Nida; my journey admits of no delay, for it is now a long period since I left Shahabad.”— “Noble stranger,” said the people, “your adventure is daring; but if you must go, the mountain of Nida is nearly a month’s journey from this place. You will first reach a city of the same name close to the mountain, and the natives will give you every requisite information for your future proceedings.”
Hatim resumed his journey; and at parting the people told him, that after he should have marched some nine or ten days, the road separated into two branches, of which he was to hold on that towards the right, which would lead him to the city of Nida. Hatim advanced without any interruption till the tenth day, when he came to the two roads; by a strange forgetfulness, he took the left hand path instead of the right. Thither he marched; but at time he had some misgivings in his own mind that he had taken the wrong road. After he had toiled four days in this direction, he found himself all at once in the midst of a jungle abounding with wild beasts and birds of prey. Hatim stood still for some time at the foot of a tree, expecting every moment to be torn to pieces by the devouring lion, or the more ferocious tiger.
As he stood listening, he heard all at once a tremendous roaring of these monsters of the creation at no great distance from him. As a last resource, he climbed up to the top of a tree, and almost instantly he saw wild elephants, lions, tigers, and many other wild beasts rush by him in full flight. Close at their heels followed an animal of ordinary size, but of most terrible aspect, such as Hatim had never seen or heard of before. His eyes were like two balls of fire, and his tail was on the crown of his head! The very sight of him was enough to kill the bravest of men.
Hatim trembled from the centre of his heart. “Alas, Hatim,” said he to himself, “thy life is surely at an end, for how canst thou escape this mighty evil!” But again, Hatim thought better of his condition; he put his trust in God, who never forsakes his servants; and knowing that in His hands only are life and death he drew his scimitar from the scabbard, and with a steady hand and firm heart, he awaited the result. Meanwhile the monstrous animal with eyes of fire came close to the tree where Hatim had taken refuge, and being of quick scent, he soon discovered what was among the branches. He made a spring at the tree with such force that he broke it through the middle, when both it and Hatim fell with a crash upon the ground. Another spring brought him close to Hatim, who must have been within his claws had not the branches of the tree protected him. Hatim soon recovered his presence of mind; and seizing his scimitar in his hand, he plunged it into the side of the monster, which laid him prostrate upon the ground. As the wound, however, was not mortal, the enraged beast jumped to his feet and made another spring at the devoted Hatim, who dexterously eluded his grasp, and with his good sword gave him another thrust in the belly, so that he fell to rise no more. But though the dragon lay mortally wounded, his power of mischief had not yet ceased. He raised a howling noise that made the earth tremble, and lashed the trees around him with his tail. From his mouth and nostrils issued streams of fire, which soon set the surrounding forest in a blaze. Hatim in the meantime had climbed up the nearest tree as soon as he saw his enemy fallen, and there he waited till he saw that no spark of life remained in the monster. At last the tree which he occupied took fire; he was forced therefore to leap down with all speed, and such was the violence of his fall, that he lay stunned for some time. When he recovered, the first thing he did was to break the four fangs of the dead monster, which in sharpness resembled so many daggers. These, with the tail and two ears, he carried off with him, in order to keep them as a trophy; and he then resumed his journey.
Hatim at length gained the open plain, and was delighted on seeing at a distance a town strongly fortified with lofty walls. On a nearer approach, he discovered towering above the rest a royal mansion, whose glittering turrets reared their pinnacles to the clouds, but no appearance of any living creature did he see. He entered the gates, within which he found every sign of the city being lately inhabited. He saw numerous warehouses, and bazars full of every commodity, but the most deadly silence prevailed throughout.
Hatim looked around on this scene of lifelessness, and wondered in his own mind what destructive hand could have caused such desolation. He approached the royal residence, which formed the citadel of the town, and in which the king and his family had shut themselves up. On seeing Hatim at a distance, the king said to those around him, “Praised be to the Lord, a human being has at length entered our city.” The king then ordered a domestic to call out to the stranger, and invite him to the palace gate. The man accordingly shouted out, and Hatim hastened his pace till he stood at the portal. The king opened a window and said to Hatim. “Welcome, noble stranger, may peace be upon you.” Hatim courteously returned the royal salutation, whereupon his majesty asked him, “Who are you, brave sir, and whence came you?”— “I am an Arab,” replied Hatim, “and I come from Shahabad; and, moreover, I am going to the mountain of Nida.”— “Trully, brave Arab,” said the king, “you have taken the wrong road to Nida; you ought to have held by the right hand road, and you have chosen the left. But what is decreed must happen; perhaps the hour of your death is at hand, fate has therefore led you hither.”
Hatim devoutly replied, “Such be the will of God, I am content; for what power is there in mortal man to help himself? Meanwhile, royal sir, for such you seem to be, have the goodness to tell me who you are, and what is the cause of your being thus shut up in your citadel?”— “I am,” replied the other, “king of this country; but of late, my splendid city was visited by a severe scourge in the shape of a fiery dragon, which forced all subjects to fly for their lives. They took with them their wives and children, and quickly abandoned this devoted city, while I, with my family and friends having placed our reliance upon God, sought refuge here, it being too late for us to make our escape, and we have not the power to cope with the monster that made such havoc in our territory.”
Hatim requested the king to give him more minute description of the monster that created such dismay in his dominions; to which his majesty replied, “A terrible creature, which we call the Siyah-dil,* came down from the mountain Kāl, and formed his haunt within our boundaries. Every day he used to come into the city and devour multitudes of the inhabitants, till no living creature is left. The citadel he has not as yet been able to enter, for it is surrounded by a very deep wide ditch. Once a day, however, the monster makes the attempt of springing from the further side to the top of the wall; but fortuntately it is more than he can accomplish; he always falls short of the top, and rolls headlong into the water.”
When Hatim heard the king’s account, he said, “Sire, let your mind be at peace, for by the aid of heaven, I have slain your enemy, which I am convinced is the same that attacked me in the forest.” Hatim then detailed the whole circumstance, as already mentioned; whereupon, the king immediately admitted him into the citadel, and after treating him with the highest respect, and offering him food and drink becoming a prince, he said, “Brave stranger, I doubt not your honour; but, in order to satisfy my friends and subjects, you will forgive me if I request you some proof of what you have stated.” Hatim immediately produced the teeth and ears of the Siyah-dil; on seeing which, the king was so delighted that he prostrated himself at his feet, and loaded him with well-merited encomiums.
His majesty thereafter despatched those who were near him in all directions with letters certifying the death of the Siyah-dil, and inviting his subjects to return to their homes. In the course of a few days the city was restored to its former life and bustle; and Hatim, taking leave of the king, requested to have a guide to conduct him to the mountain of Nida. The king tried to induce Hatim to stay with him, and said, “Bravest of men, why will you leave me? This city and these realms are yours. I am now old, and have an only daughter; accept her for your wife, and you shall reign in my stead.”— “Generous sire,” returned Hatim, “at present my vow forbids me to accept aught earthly, that may benefit myself, till I have discharged a sacred duty which I owe to a friend.”
The king, with tears in his eyes, admired Hatim’s noble and generous conduct, and immediately ordered one of his subjects to conduct him safe to the mountain of Nida. Hatim with his guide retraced their way back to the spot where the road separated, which they reached in a few days. The guide then pointed out to him the right-hand path, and said, “Brave prince of Yemen, follow this road, and it will take you to the city of Nida.” Ten days after, Hatim came to a large and populous city, and the moment he entered within the walls, the people conducted him before the governor. His highness received Hatim with due courtesy; and having requested him to be seated, said, “Tell me, sir, of what country are you, and how came you hither? It is certain that no strager has visited this city since the time of Alexander the Great, who traversed the whole of the inhabitable globe. May I ask, then, what has been the cause of your visit?”
Hatim gave a full account of Husn Banu and the prince Munir, also what he had himself done up to that moment. When the ruler of the city heard this, he said to Hatim, “Noble stranger, rest yourself here for some days, and you will learn enough of the mountain of Nida; for were I now to describe to you its mysteries, you could not comprehend them.” Hatim accordingly accepted the governor’s invitation, and had a house appointed for him to live in, and food, drink, and every other requisite plentifully supplied. All the principal men of the city visited him, and were delighted with his agreeable society.
One day, while they were in conversation, Hatim asked one of them which was the mountain of Nida. They pointed it out to him, and said, “That peak, whose summit penetrates the clouds, is the mountain of Nida.” Meanwhile a loud voice issued from the mountain, and at that moment one of the men in the company all of a sudden became silent and thoughtful. Soon after he rose up; and regardless of the numerous entreaties of his friends, he bent his course towards the mountain. His companions ran after him, but in vain; he spoke not a word, and with a pale countenance he quickened his pace to the mountain. Hatim followed among the rest and said to them, “My good friends, what has befallen the young man, that he thus runs like a maniac he knows not whither?”— “His hour is arrived,” they replied, “for the voice from the mountain exclaimed, ‘come quickly.’”— “And whose voice is it,” said Hatim, “that he should thus blindly obey it?”— “That,” replied they, “is more than we know, you must ask himself.”
Hatim ran with all his might till he overtook the devoted young man, whom he seized by the hand, and thus addressed, “My dear friend, it is unkind, nay inhuman, to refuse the information I ask. Tell me, I beseech you, who is he that has called you to yonder mountain, and I will myself accompany you thither.” Hatim’s entreaties were of no avail; the young man gave no answer, but drew away his hand from him, and ran swift as the wind towards the mountain. Hatim followed close after; but, when he was about half way, the mountain before him vanished from his sight. He stood in the utmost amazement, and cast his eyes in every direction, but no trace of Nida nor of the young man could he discover, he only saw in its place a large stone, possessing all the hues of the rainbow.
Hatim, in the utmost despair, returned towards the city, till he met the people that had come out with him. These were assembled on the road; and when he reached them, they were performing some ceremony known to themselves. They thrice repeated a form of prayer with their faces turned towards the spot where the mountain had been; and this done, they returned to the city, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. On their return, the young man’s friends and relatives, far from giving way to sorrow, prepared a feast, and entertained all the poor of the city; and after some time spent in mirth and joy, they resumed their usual occupations.
Hatim, however, could not conceal his grief for the unfortunate young man who had disappeared so mysteriously. The people laughed at his sorrow, and said to him, “Stranger, it is not our custom to give way to weeping and lamentation; we forgive you, however, this time; but if you are to reside among us, you must conform with our manners, otherwise we shall expel you hence. Hatim accordingly restained his grief, and, resided among them for the space of six months, in which period ten or twelve people disappeared in a similar manner. In vain did he ask the inhabitants for an explanation of the mystery; either they could not or would not satisfy his curiosity.
Among the inhabitants of the city there was an intelligent man by name Jam, with whom Hatim formed the most sincere friendship and affection, so that they became inseparable companions. One day as they were conversing together, the awful voice sounded loud from the summit of the mountain. When Hatim’s friend heard the sound, he all at once became silent, and it was easy to see that his hour was come. He quickly rose up and began to make for the mountain, of which, when his relations received, intelligence, they all prepared to follow him. Hatim with a heavy heart accompanied his beloved friend, for he knew that he was called thence no more to return. He resolved however, not to part with him till death, and made up his mind to enter with him into the mysterious mountain, whatever might be the consequence. Hatim then girded up his loins; and placing his trust in God, he laid hold of his friend Jam by the hand, and marched along with him towards the foot of Nida.— “My dearest friend,” said Hatim, “why this silence? Speak to me, who have, as your brother, resolved to share your fate.” But Jam uttered not a word in reply: cold and senseless, he hurried onwards, endeavouring from time to time to free himself from Hatim’s friendly grasp. At last he exerted his utmost strength, and so sudden was the movement, that ere Hatim was aware of his intention, he found himself stretched upon the ground while his companion ran off at full speed. Hatim lost no time in pursuing, and having again overtaken Jam, he siezed him by the skirt, and clung to him with all his might.
Thus they proceeded up the side of the mountain, Jam endeavouring in vain to cast off his companion. At length they arrived at a spot where the rock rent asunder, and both of them entered the chasm, which immediately closed behind them. Meanwhile, those who had followed them from a distance, seeing that Hatim and Jam had both entered the mountain, returned to their houses, regretting the loss of the noble stranger. They went to the ruler of the city, and informed him how the Arabian prince had accompanied Jam, and disappeared with him in the mountain. The governor was much grieved, and threatened the people with severe punishment for not detaining the generous stranger, who thus rashly incurred his own destruction.
To return to Hatim. After they had entered the fissure of the mountain, an extensive plain appeared before them, the verdure and beauty of which exceeded description. As far as the eye could reach, the same endless green presented itself. As Hatim and his friend advanced, they reached a black spot on the plain, the shape of a grave, on which no plant whatever grew, and there Jam fell length ways while his soul left his body. Hatim felt the earth shake beneath and straightway the body of his companion sunk into the ground; and the spot that had been previously bare and barren, became verdant as the rest of the plain.
Hatim, having witnessed this wonderful scene, raised his voice in prayer to the all-wise Creator, whose decrees are beyond our comprehension. He now knew the mysteries of Nida, that the people of the city thus closed their earthly career. He looked around him for a path to lead him to the city, but no trace could he find either of the mountain or the way by which he came there; the same verdant plain extended in every direction as far as he could see. For seven days and nights he thus wandered, without a morsel of food or a drop of water, nor did the sight of any living creature greet his eye. Hatim was about to sink upon the ground, and resign his soul to God, for he saw no way of escape, and he concluded that his death was decreed in those silent realms.
While occupied in such forebodings, Hatim thought that he heard hallow roar, like the rushing of waves in the distant ocean. He advanced in that direction, and at last arrived at the shore of a turbulent and foaming sea, whose farther extremity his eye could not discern. Hatim stood thoughtful upon the beach, and said to himself, “At last my earthly pilgrimage is at an end, for here is a sea, beyond which I cannot pass; but He who ruleth all things can even here assist me.”
As Hatim was straining his sight across the watery expanse, he saw at a distance a small vessel struggling with the raging billows, and making for the shore; and great was his joy when he considered that his deliverance was at hand. When the vessel reached the sand at no great distance from where he stood, he quickly ran and stepped into it; but what was his surprise to find no living creature within. On a small table he saw two loaves and a fried fish; and as his hunger was excessive, he praised the Lord, and was about to eat. But on further reflection, he considered that the victuals must belong to the pilot of the vessel, who cannot be far off, perhaps gone on shore unobserved; and “in such a case,” said Hatim, “it would be highly improper in me to eat what has been prepared for another: I will wait till his return and share his hospitality, if such be his pleasure.”
While Hatim was thus waiting, a large dolphin raised his head above the water, and thus spoke: “O Hatim, these two loaves and the fried fish have been dressed for thee only; eat, then, and appease thy hunger.” When the dolphin had done speaking, he dived into his native element; and Hatim, without further delay ate the loaves and the fish, after which, he allayed his thirst from a jar of fresh water that stood in a corner of the vessel. Shortly after a favourable breeze sprung up, and Hatim having trimmed the sails, launched into the wide ocean. His greatest wish was to return to the city of Nida, and inform the inhabitants of the fate of his friend Jam; but then be knew not which way to steer, so he placed his reliance upon Providence, and allowed his bark to sail smoothly before the wind.
For the following seven days Hatim’s vessel continued to dart through the ocean; nor during that space did he taste any food, nor see ought but the heavens above and the roaring billows around. On the eighth day be beheld rising above the waters a lofty mountain whose cliffs seemed to pierce the moon. In three days more he landed at the foot of the mountain; and in his ascent, he was astonished on beholding streams of blood gushing from its rocks. He stood still for a while to view this strange phenomenon, and said in his heart, “How wonderful the works of the Creator! Each rock and stone of this mountain discharges drops of blood; but who can explain to me the cause of the circumstance?”
In these reflections Hatim at lenght reached the summit, and there he saw before him an extensive plain of blood-red hue, while the colour of all the animals that frequented it was green. So intent was Hatim in the contemplation of those wonderful regions, that he completly forgot the pangs of hunger, and advanced several farasangs into the plain. At last he came to the brink of a sea, whose waters were blood, and whose billows, chasing each other to land, moistened the stars with their purple spray. On the red beach were number of birds, the brilliancy of whose azure plumage was dazzling to the sight. Here Hatim wandered along the shores of the blood-red sea for the space of a month, and having caught some of the birds, he struck fire from a flint, and thus dressed food for himself. But as he had nothing wherewith to allay his thirst, he used to take into his mouth the muhra of the bear’s daughter, which had all the qualities of the purest water. At lenght he came to a narrow point of land, beyond which nothing was visible but the purple waves, and across this expanse none of the birds attempted its daring flight. Hatim began to despair of ever returning from these crimson shores; “thou hast wandered here for a whole month,” said he to himself, “but all of no avail; and wert thou to advance for years along this blood-stained coast, thou shouldst see no termination. Here art thou destined to linger out thy life-time, for to return hence is beyond thy power. And, alas! thy love-sick friend Munir is left to perish in expectation of thee.”
But again, Hatim devoutly considered that, “If God the Great and Glorious, hath willed that I should return, and that my friend should by my means attain the object of his wish most assuredly He will rescue me from this whirlpool of misery.” While occupied with these pious reflections, Hatim saw at a great distance a small black, speck, which occasionally shewed itself on the top of the billows. In a short time it approached nearer, and great was his delight when the object proved to be a large boat. It touched the shore at his feet; and Hatim having offered up his gratitude before the throne of the Supreme, leaped into the vessel and put out to sea.
In this boat he found, as previously, two barley loaves and a fried fish, which he ate without scruple, while the vessel flew swift as an arrow through the waves of the crimson sea. On the seventh day after, he saw land; and in going ashore he found every object dyed with the same crimson hue as on the other side; while every rock and stone poured forth torrents of blood. Hatim trusted in God, and fearlessly began to penetrate into this new region. At a great distance he observed a most brilliant spot in the horizon, to which he directed his course. The nearer he approached the more dazzling grew the light, till at length he could perceive that it was a lofty mountain of the purest silver. Forward he went, fatigued as he was; but by the time he thought himself within a few leagues of the silver mountain, he found that there intervened a wide ocean, whose waves were of the same brilliant hue. He stood upon the beach admiring the beauty of the prospect; and as his thirst was excessive, he dipped his right hand into the silver liquid, in order to taste of its contents, and instantly his hand was turned into silver.
Hatim with horror beheld his right hand converted into a mass of silver, and mourning over his hapless fate, he sat down upon the shore. Suddenly he saw a boat making towards him from the direction of the mountain. He raised his hands towards heaven, and gave praise to that Almighty Providence which had so frequently aided him in his distress. When the boat rached the shore, Hatim joyfully stepped into it, and found it supplied with a variety of the most delicious viands, also pure water wherewith to quench his thirst. Having refreshed his exhausted frame, he trimmed his sails, and steered his course towards the silver mountain. The vessel swiftly ploughed the waves without any aid from a pilot, while Hatim laid himself down and enjoyed a refreshing sleep.
When Hatim had first seen the silver mountain, he imagined that it was at no great distance from him; but this was owing to its extreme brilliancy and immense height, for it required eleven days and nights of swift sailing to reach its nearer shore. At length Hatim came to land, and began to explore the silver regions; but ever and anon he looked with sorrow at his right hand, now become a useless burden to him. Onwards he journeyed for four days more, when he reached the foot of what he conceived to be the silver mountain. He then commenced his ascent; but he no sooner reached the summit of one mountain than another still higher presented itself to his view. For three days Hatim thus toiled upwards: his food consisted of wild fowls, which he caught in the rocks and sometimes fish of the hue of silver from the mountain streams, together with such fruit as those airy regions produced. On the fourth day, he observed that the rocks and stones which lined his path emitted the most billiant rays of light, and were tinged with all the colours of the rainbow. He stood admiring this beautiful sight, and devoutly acknowledging the transcendant power and wisdom of Him who made the universe. On a more minute examination of these beautiful stones, he found that they were real jewels, such as diamonds emeralds, rubies; in short whatever was rare and costly.
Hatim could not resist the temptation of carrying off some of the jewels; he therefore filled his skirt with such of them as were most valuable, and thus heavy laden, resumed his ascent. The higher he climbed the larger and more brilliant become the jewels scattered around him, so that he was constantly occupied in throwing away what he had previously gathered, and supplying their place with others more precious. At last he satisfied himself by filling his skirt with the largest jewels he had ever seen and resolved to carry these back with him to his own country. “The greatest princes on earth,” said he, “possess not such jewels, nor could they buy them with all the wealth of their kingdoms; nay, they cannot have any idea even of their existence.”
For several days longer he persevered in his ascent from peak to peak, without the least appearance of reaching the highest point. Meanwhile the weight of his load of jewels was so heavy that he was compelled to throw away more than the half, having kept only such as he judged most rare and costly. One day, as he was passing from one mountain to another, he came to a spring of cool water, beside which he sat down to quench his thirst. The moment he dipped his hands in this precious fountain, his right hand became whole and sound as the rest of his body. Hatim thus providentially cured, bowed his head to the dust in gratitude to the Bestower of Benefits; and having allayed his thirst, he laid himself down to sleep on the cool margin of the silver fountain.
When Hatim awoke from his sleep, he beheld standing by the spring two beings of formidable appearance. Their colour was black as the raven, their heads resembled that of man, and their hands and feet were like the paws of the lion. In an instant, Hatim started to his feet: he seized his bow and let fly his well-aimed arrow at one of these strange monsters. The shot took no effect, for the creature seized the arrow in its paw, and in a tone of reproach cried out, “O Hatim, does it become you to slay the innocent, from fear of your own life? Know that we also are servants of the Almighty, and have come hither with no intention of doing you harm.”
On hearing this, Hatim dropped the bow and arrow from his hands, and sat down in deep regret, for his own heart convinced him of having acted wrong. Some time thus passed while he waited their nearer approach, and much he wondered in his own mind what should be the result of an interview with such wonderful beings. At length they stood before him, and said, “To you Hatim, of all mankind, it is least becoming to set your heart on jewels and worldly wealth. Your name is already famous in the world for every thing noble and generous; and your history shall serve as an example to future ages. But if the love of gold and jewels take possession of your heart, farewell your present success and future fame!”— “May I ask,” said Hatim, “whose gold and jewels have I ever coveted?”— “O Hatim,” returned the demons, “see you those jewels which you have carried away from the lower mountain; can you say that they are your own?”— “If they be not mine,” replied Hatim, “they belong to no one else. The gifts of the Creator are without number, and his dominions boundless; if I have taken a few jewels from the mountain, I cannot have thereby wronged you or any living creature.”— “Those jewels,” said the demon, “belong to the race that inhabit these realms.”— “And is not man,” rejoined Hatim, “the noblest of created beings? Is he not sole master of the terrestrial globe and all that it contains? Tell me, then, the name of that race that can have a better right to these precious stones than I have. Besides, I have only carried with me a small number to present to my friends, which can no more be missed from the treasures of these mountains than a drop of water from the ocean.”— “It is not for the value of these baubles,” resumed the demons, “that we so strongly urge you to throw them away, it is solely on your own account; for if it is your wish to return in safety to your own country, you must covet nothing that you see here.”— Hatim at length, with great reluctance, threw down the precious stones, saying, “What you advise me, my friends, may be right; yet it is hard that I should have toiled so many days in carrying these treasures, which I must now resign; truly your advice is to me very unacceptable.”
When the demons perceived Hatim’s reluctance, they selected from the stone the largest ruby, the most brilliant diamond, and the finest emerald, and presented the same to him, saying, “Accept, brave Hatim, these three precious stones; they will suffice as a specimen to be shewn to your friends: to take more, or to use them in any other manner, would be unworthy of yourself.” Hatim joyfully received the three jewels and said, “Now, my good friends, I am a stranger here; you will therefore do me the greatest favour by pointing out to me the way to my own country.”
“Generous Hatim,” replied the demons, “you are aware of the immense distance you have travelled since you left Shahabad. God has preserved you in all your perils and hardships; yet, since the creation of the world, only three of your race have been enabled to visit these regions and return with life, whereas, numbers have perished in the attempt. Your days shall yet be many, for such is the will of God. Proceed, then, till you reach the ocean of gold, which you shall cross, as you have hitherto done. Next, you will come to the sea of fire; and should you be able to find your way its farther side, you will soon arrive in Yemen. But, above all, beware lest you covet ought of what you see, for it may cost you your life.”
Having thus spoken, the demons vanished from Hatim’s sight, while he sat down to repose for the night by the cool fountain. When the dawn of morning appeared, he rose up, and after ablutions, he proceeded on his journey, trusting to Providence alone as his guide. After three days of fasting and constant toil, he arrived, hungry and thirsty, at the banks of a river, the channel of which was formed of the largest and most valuable pearls he had ever seen. His heart longed to possess the pearls, notwithstanding the injunctions he had received to the contrary; but, on farther reflection, he controlled his fatal desire, and satisfied himself by quenching his thirst in the running stream, which was extremely pure and refreshing.
Hatim thence set out, and shortly after, he saw before him the clouds rising from the horizon with uncommon brilliancy, resembling a canopy of burnished gold. For a whole month he continued to advance in this direction; and at length he saw the summit of the golden mountain, rising with dazzling grandeur among the clouds. Having reached the base of the mountain, he found it covered with trees and shrubs, of which the foliage and fruit were all of golden hue. For three days he ascended towards the summit; and on the fourth day he entered a garden, whose beauty equalled that of paradise. The trees were loaded with golden apples, every leaf and every plant in the garden was tinged with the hue of gold.
After Hatim had enjoyed the charms of this beautiful scene, and appeased his thirst from fountains of pure water which issued from rocks of gold studded with the most precious gems, he sat down to repose for the night. Meanwhile a troop of fairies surrounded him; and when Hatim saw them, his heart rejoiced, for the fairest of the band greatly resembled Zarīnpash. He said to them, “Heavenly creatures, tell me who are you?”— “We are,” replied one of them, “the devoted subjects of Zarīnpash, the fairy queen, who now walks in this garden, and who will very soon pass this way.”
Shortly after the queen approached, and the moment Hatim beheld her lovely countenance, his senses entirely forsook him, and he fell lifeless upon the ground. Zarīnpash quickly ordered her attendants to bring rose-water, which she sprinkled over his face and body. After this, Hatim recovered, when the queen raised him from the ground and seated him on a golden chair close by a throne, which she herself occupied. She then addressed him in the sweetest tone, and said, “Tell me, noble stranger, who are you, and how came you hither?” Hatim related his eventful history; and in return, asked the fairy, “To whom belong these celestial abodes?” “These regions,” she replied, “are called Achīn, which signifies pleasant, and the sovereignty thereof belongs to the king Shahyal, to whom I owe allegiance. It is part of my duty to keep watch in this paradise for a fixed period. My time expires in the course of a week; after which, I return to the royal presence. This mountain, too, is part of Kaf, which forms the boundaries of the earth.”
The fairies hospitably entertained Hatim for four days, and presented to him the best of food and drink. On the fifth day, the queen advised him to depart, on which he took leave, and once more resumed his journey. In two days after, he found himself in a boundless plain beyond the confines of the golden mountain. Forward he marched, night and day; and on the evening of the sixteenth day, he reached the yellow shore of the golden sea. The sand on which he trod was of the finest gold; the waves, too, which rose like mountains towards the skies, were deeply tinged with the same brilliant colour. While Hatim sat musing on the beach, he saw, as formerly, a vessel steering towards land; and at length it came close to where he stood. Hatim stopped into the boat, where he found a basket filled with delicious food; and as he was very hungry, he ate and refreshed his exhausted frame. At the same time his thirst was excessive, and he felt a strong inclination for dipping his hand into the sea in order to drink. He recollected, however, the disaster that had previously befallen him, when his hand was changed into silver; and lest it might this time be converted into gold, he took a goblet, and having filled the same, he drank, and steered his bark from land.
For forty days and nights he sailed onwards without seeing any object but the golden waves and the illumined clouds. At length he reached the shore, and began to traverse the newly discovered regions. Seven days after, he came to a desert of burning sand, hot as the ashes of the newly quenched furnace. He made an effort to advance, but soon found himself unable to stand. He sunk exhausted to the earth; his lips were parched of their moisture, and the whole of his body scorched beyond endurance. In vain did he apply the precious muhra of the bear’s daughter, it produced no good effect whatever.
In this condition, Hatim, unable either to remain or return, tossing from side to side on the fiery sand, was about to bid adieu to life, when the two mysterious beings that had presented him with the precious stones, stood beside him, and having administered to him a draught of cool and refreshing water, recalled his departing soul. When Hatim recovered his senses, and saw the two demons before him, he said “To you my debt of gratitude is indeed heavy, for verily your aid has been opportune.”— “Brave Hatim,” they rejoined, “it is part of our duty to direct the stranger on his way. You must therefore advance through this desert till you reach the fiery ocean, which you must cross, as you have lately crossed the other seas; and should it please the Great Creator, you will thereafter soon arrive in your own country. Meanwhile accept this talisman, and when you feel the heat oppressive, take the talisman in your mouth, and the fire shall have no power over you. When arrived on the farther side, cast the talisman into the fiery ocean, and proceed on your journey.”
Hatim took the talisman in his mouth, and advanced for three days amidst the burning sand, when at last the flames of the fire so increased that it appeared as if the heavens and the earth were mingled in one blaze. He stood still for some minutes, and found himself on the brink of the fiery ocean. Here his courage failed, for he saw not the possibility of surmounting this last barrier. At length a boat was seen to emerge from the flaming billows, but even then Hatim hesitated whether to enter; for, said he, “How can I, with my eyes open and my sense sound, entrust myself to a frail bark on a sea of liquid fire.” Again he reflected, “After all this is my only escape; and if I wish to succeed in my enterprise, I must brave this danger at last; and if it is the will of the great and wise Creator to spare my life, he is able to protect me in the midst of the flames.”
Hatim entered the vessel, which began forthwith to cleave its way through the flaming waves. Dreadful was his situation; and though the fire hurt him not, still he drust not open his eyes from fear of the glare of light that surrounded him. Three weeks after the commencement of this perilous voyage, he felt his bark tossed round with amazing rapidity in the midst of a raging whirlpool. Hatim now felt assured that his last hour was arrived, for should his boat be swallowed up in this fiery gulf, how could he effect his escape. He still sat with his eyes closed, recommending his soul to the protection of heaven, when to the vessel sunk from beneath him, and he found himself floating swiftly along the current. Hatim in this helpless state resigned himself to fate. Over his eyes were drawn the curtains of despair, and his head touched the knee of anguish. For three days and night he was thus tossed along the billows of the fiery ocean, till at length the waves cast him almost lifeless on solid ground.
Hatim shortly after ventured to open his eyes, thinking that he was still on the sea shore, but no trace could he see of the flaming billows, nor of the dazzling lights that lately enveloped him. He stood up, and threw away the talisman given him by the two genii, after which he began to explore the surrounding country. He soon discovered, to his great joy, that he was in his native land of Yemen; and seeing a peasant standing beside a field of corn, he went up to him, and said, “Tell me, my good man, what is the name of this country, and who is its sovereign” The peasant, instead of replying, stood motionless with his eyes fixed on the countenance of him who bore such resemblance to his beloved prince. “Are you deaf, my friend,” resumed Hatim, “or are you unwilling to answer a plain question?”— “Forgive me, noble sir,” said the peasant, “but you look so like the brave and generous Hatim, that the joy of once more beholding my prince has deprived my tongue of utterance.”
Hatim, without discovering himself, continued his conversation with the peasant, and said “Who is this Hatim you speak of, and what do you know of him?”— “He is,” replied the peasant, “my true and beloved prince; for you must know, stranger, that this is the kingdom of Yemen, of which Taï is sovereign. The heir apparent to the throne is the noble Hatim, who seven years ago left his paternal domains to travel through strange countries. Once only in that long period hath he gladdened our hearts with tidings of his welfare, by letters brought to his father by the youthful queen Zarīnposh.”
Having thus spoken the peasant was about to depart, when Hatim addressed him, saying “Stay, my good subject, I am indeed Hatim, the son of Taï; and if you wish to do me a favour, go to my father’s hall and assure himself and my mother of my welfare, and my unimpaired affection towards them. But first of all, tell me where I may quench my thirst, for I am wearied with travelling.” The peasant quickly ran to his cottage, and having brought the best food and drink he could procure, he presented the same to his prince. After Hatim had refreshed himself, he stood for some minutes intently looking towards his father’s capital which was situated close by. At length he turned round, and addressing the peasant, who stood at a respectful distance waiting his further commands, he said, “My good friend, accept my thanks for your hospitality. Remember my request, and say to my father that my time is pressing, for I am journeying to Shahabad. I trust I shall soon be able to return to my native country no more to wander.”
Shortly after, Hatim arrived safely in the city of Shahabad. When the people of Husn Banu saw him they conveyed him with the highest respect to the gate of their fair sovereign. Husn Banu, informed of Hatim’s arrival, hastily threw on her veil, and gave orders for his admission into the palace. After mutual salutations, Husn Banu asked of Hatim the account of his long journey, the events of which he minutely detailed from beginning to end. After he had finished his narrative, the fair queen said to him, “Brave prince of Yemen, I am satisfied that what you have stated is strictly true; but have you nothing to shew in confirmation,” Hatim produced the ruby, the diamond, and the emerald which the two genii had permitted him to bring from Nida, and presented the same to Husn Banu, saying, “These are ample proofs of what I have related; and I may add, that when my right hand was transformed into a mass of silver, and when, on washing in the fountain, it was again restored to its original form, my nails still retained the hue of silver, as you now behold. On drinking from the golden sea, four of my teeth were transformed into pure gold, and, as you see, still continue so.”
Husn Banu expressed her admiration of Hatim’s bravery and constancy, and with her own hands presented him with food and drink. Hatim tasted slightly of her bounty, and said that he longed to see his friend the Assyrian prince. He therefore hastened to the Mihmanserai, where he found Munīr. He gave his friend every consolation in his power, saying, “Be of good cheer, for now there are only two questions to solve, and God will grant success. Three days thus passed, after which Hatim presented himself before Husn Banu, and said, “Tell me, fair lady, what is your sixth question?”— “I have a pearl here,” replied Husn Banu, “as large as a duck’s egg: bring another equal to it.”— Hatim requested to see the pearl; and having got an exact model of it made of silver, he deposited the same in his turban. Having then taken leave of Husn Banu and the Assyrian prince Munīr, he set out on his sixth jorney.
The Journey of Hatim in search of the Pearl.— His interview with Shams Shah, the King of the Fairies.
THE narrators of past events have informed us that Hatim, after leaving Shahabad on his sixth adventure, came to a certain desert, across which he bent his course. After he had walked about two farasangs, he came to a solitary tree, at the foot of which was a rude seat formed of stone. As the the evening was approaching, he there sat down; and having passed some time in deep reflection, with his head stooping towards his knee, the mantle of night began to overspread the world. In the meantime a brace of fowls, dazzling in all the splendour of the seven colours, came and perched upon the tree above him. Those birds were of the species called Natika,* which generally frequent the shores of the sea of Kahrmān, and by special providence they rested on that tree for the night.
The female bird said to the male, “I like not the air of these regions in which we have halted, I wish we were safe in our own country.”— “I agree with you,” said the male; “and though it was my intention to stay here for some days, yet, as you dislike the place, we shall depart early in the morning.”— “Well,” said the female, “I only hope you will abide by your resolution, and at to-morrow’s sun will shine upon us when far hence.”— “Why all this anxiety,” rejoined the male, “you know well that I speak nothing but the truth.”
A short time after, the female natika again broke silence, saying, “Tell me, my dear mate, who is this wanderer from the haunts of men who is seated on the stones below, with his head sunk in the lap of reflection, and his brow stamped with the seal of sorrow?”— “He is the best of men,” replied the male, “and his anxiety is occasioned because he knows not whither to direct his course in quest of a pearl of the size of a Murghab’s egg.* Now Murghab is also the name of the place where these pearls are to be found. But to proceed; this man is Hatim Taï, the noble and generous prince of Yemen. He is now wandering in search of this pearl, not for his own sake, but in order to serve another person. He has left his princely home, and his fond parents, in order to promote the happiness of his fellow creatures.”
“But,” rejoined the female, “inexperienced as Hatim is, how can he ever find the pearl in question?”— “I shall direct him,” replied the male, “if it is your wish, though it may not be altogether for our welfare.”— “Nothing is more noble,” said the female, “than to do good to others, and assuredly we shall ourselves reap the benefit thereof in the end.”— “Listen to me, then, my dear consort,” said the male natika, “and you shall hear how this rare pearl of the Murghab is to be procured. You are aware that our species have lived since the creation of the world on the shores of the sea of Kahrman, and only once in thirty years our females laid an egg of this kind. But for some time past our race has been deprived of the virtue of producing these pearls, and those that had been formerly produced are sunk to an unfathomable depth in the sea. Of these pearls two only are above ground, and these originally fell into the hands of Chamchān, the king of Kahrmān. He again gave one of them as a rare present to Shamshân, a neighbouring prince of great wealth and splendour in his time. Shamshân died without issue; and his splendid capital was soon after reduced to a lifeless desert while his wealth passed into the hands of strangers, and the pearl, after many changes of owner, is now in the possession of Husn Banu, the daughter of Burzakh the merchant.
“As to the other pearl, it happened that Chamchān, the King of Kahrman, died in early life, and another took possession of his crown. The widowed queen, then pregnant (being her first child), was forced to fly for her life, and the pearl of the Murghab was the only part of her property which she had time to secure. With this rare treasure she left her palace, and fled through the desert till he reached the sea of Kahrman. There she sat down exhausted, not knowing whither to proceed, till a merchant with his ship approached that spot in order to take in fresh water. When the queen saw the vessel she cried aloud for assistance, and the merchant himself came to her in a boat, and conveyed her on board.
“The merchant, whose name was Smbar, was a benevolent man, who had seen much of the world. He treated the queen with the utmost kindness; and on hearing the cause of her distress, he adopted her as his daughter, and conveyed her to his own country. In the course of time she was delivered of a son; and as Simbar the merchant had no children of his own, he appointed this child sole heir of his extensive wealth. Meanwhile the child grew up endowed with princely virtues, and by the time he came to manhood his generous patron Sīmbar died.
“Shortly after, the young prince was appointed chief of that province; and as he was a youth of superior discernment, and had abundance of wealth at command, he soon raised himself to be king of that country and the adjacent islands. After his death, his descendants reigned there for many a generation, till the auspicious æra of Sulaiman of Iram (on whom be peace), who reduced into their possession the whole extent of the Koh-i-Käf and the coast of the sea of Kulzum. Since the reign of the prophet Sulaiman, the race has reigned in those regions, but then their intercourse ceased with the inhabitants of the earth. They no longer form a part of the human race, nor dareth a son of Adam visit their dominions.
“In the course of time the pearl came into the hands of a fairy, in the possession of whose son it now is. His name is Mahyar Sulaimani, and his father was of the race of Adam, so that he partakes of the twofold nature of man and fairy. He reigns in the island of Barzakh,* and is on friendly terms with the demons, whose territories are contiguous to his kingdom, for he knows the powerful spell of Sulaiman, and no demon dares injure him.
“Mahyar Sulaimani has an only daughter, now seven years old, and whosoever shall be able to tell the history of the pearl, shall have the daughter in marriage, and the pearl for her dowry. He is also a man of profound knowledge, having in his possession the books of his progenitor the great Sulaiman. In these books are many secrets; and rare among others, the method of procuring the pearl of the Murghab, should the one which he has lost. Since the reign of Sulaiman (on whom be peace), our race has not produced a single pearl, nor is it lawful for us to tell what I have now stated to you, a secret known to Mahyar alone. But to this generous youth, who has been for years exerting himself in the cause of his fellow-creatures, it is proper that I should disclose this much of the subject that now occupies his thought.”
On hearing this the female said, “How is Hatim to find his way to the sea of Kahrman, for the coast is infested by the demons who inhabit those regions, and the perils which await him are numerous?”— “His safety,” replied the male, “depends on heaven alone; for if his days are not yet at an end, he may encounter every danger, and return in safety. Meanwhile he must proceed to the south, and it will be necessary that he take with him several of our feathers. When he arrives at the confines of the mountain Kaf, he will see before him a wide desert, and ere he enter that wilderness, he must use the following precaution:— Let him burn the green feathers and strew the ashes in water, with which he must wash his whole body. This will have so strong a scent that no wild beast of the desert can come near him. Moreover, his appearance will be altogether that of a demon; his colour will be black is night, and his hands and feet will assume an unnatural size, and he will be able to speak the language of the demons.
“After he shall have passed through the wilderness, and arrived at the island of Barzakh, he must then burn the white feathers, and having mingled the ashes with water as before, let him wash his body with the same, and he will assume his original shape. When he enters the dominions of Mahyar Sulaimani, the fairies of those realms will seize him, and take him before their monarch. Then let Hatim boldly state the object of his journey; when the king, as a matter of course, will ask of him to give an account of the pearl, whereupon he shall have both the pearl and the daughter. Then let Hatim tell all that I have stated, and Mahyar, being of most honourable conduct and of strict integrity, will assuredly give his daughter and the pearl.”
Having thus spoken, the male natika flapped his wings, when a shower of feathers fell around Hatim, who immediately arose and carefully collected them. When the female bird saw this, she said to her partner, “He gathers the feathers as if he had understood what you said; how do you know that Hatim is destined for such important services, and how have you recollected all the circumstances of the pearls?”— “The whole history of the two pearls,” replied the male, “has been preserved by our race from one generation to another; but you females attend not to such grave subjects nor are you good for anything but talking. The time will come too, when our race shall be extinct, with the exception of a solitary bird, which is destined to perish only with the world. But these days are still remote, and at present let us enjoy the bounty of Providence, of which we have a greater share than any animal except man. We, like him, are endowed with the faculty of speech, and the ordinary term of our life is longer than his; even we two are destined to live together in this world for the next hundred years.”
By this time the portals of the dawn flew upon in the east, and the two birds took their flight from the tree. Hatim at the same time arose, and commenced his journey towards the south. One night, as he lay down to repose underneath a tree, he heard the cry of some animal in pain exclaiming, “Alas! is there no creature at hand who will, for the sake of God, assist me.” Hatim, ever ready to aid the distressed, quickly arose, and ran towards the spot whence the sound issued. There he saw a female fox stretched on the ground, and beating her head upon the hard stones. “Tell me,” said Hatim, “who has caused thy sorrow?”— “A huntsman,” replied the fox, “has caught in his snares both my husband and children, and has carried them off to be murdered. This heart-rending separation is the cause of my grief.”— “Knowest thou where the huntsman resides?” asked Hatim. “His house,” she replied, “is distant from hence two farasangs.”— “Shew me the way thither,” said Hatim, “and I will endeavour to save thy kindred.”
The fox hesitated, and said, “O man, how can I trust thee! Art thou not one of the blood-thirsty race of him that has torn my heart asunder, and will it not be thy delight to lead me also into the snare? Truly my fate would be like that of the monkey, whose mishap has become a proverb.” — “Tell me,” said Ha im, “what happened to the monkey?” The fox began as follows: “Once upon a time a monkey with his mate took up their abode in a squestered spot in the desert of Damaghan, where they soon had a family. A huntsman happened to pass that way, and succeeded in catching all the monkies except the mother, which effected her escape. Meanwhile the huntsman conveyed the male with the young ones to a nobleman’s house, where he disposed of them for a high price, while the poor mother wandered through the desert in all the agonies of despair. Regardless of her life, she at last ventured among the haunts of men; and having gone before the chief of the province, she stated the cause of her woe, and implored redress, saying, ‘Noble sir, as you hope for mercy from God, have pity on my sorrows. A huntsman belonging to this place has cruelly deprived me of my husband and family.’
“Now it happened that the chief was the very man to whom the huntsman had sold the monkies, though he was not then aware of it. He therefore said to the monkey, ‘Go, conduct my attendants to that huntsman’s house, and they are empowered by me to bring the parties concerned to my presence.’ The female monkey accordingly led the way to the house of the huntsman, who instantly obeyed the order of the chief. When they returned, the chief said, ‘It is true, huntsman, that you have deprived this poor monkey of her partner and young ones; and if so, what have you done with them?’
“‘It is most true, noble sir, replied he, ‘and the very day I caught them I sold them all to your highness. If, however, you are disposed to pity her distress, and restore to her those that are so dear to her, I am most willing to return to your highness the price that was paid for them.’ On hearing this the chief said, in reply to the huntsman, “What you propose seems very fair; yet I do not conceive it to be the best plan. Now that I have considered the matter seriously, I think the best thing we can do is to detain the female in the same cage with her kindred, for I would not give away for any money the monkies which you sold to me.’
“But the miseries of the monkey did not cease here. After being for some time confined in the same cage with her young, the prince of Damaghan having heard that the chief had some young monkies expressed his wish to have them in his palace. Thus the hapless monkey was doomed to suffer another separation from her young, while her own liberty was lost at the same time. The male had previously died, and now being left solitary, she rejected food and drink, and in a few days escaped from sorrow by the door of death.”
When the fox finished the story of the monkey, she said to Hatim, “In like manner, it is natural for me to suppose that you will involve me in greater misery”— “Fear me not,” said Hatim, “all men are not so treacherous as those you have mentioned.” At length the fox led the way in the dark, while Hatim followed to the huntsman’s house where they arrived about the third watch* of the night. He there reposed beneath a tree till the approach of day, while the fox concealed herself in the adjacent forest. When the sun arose from the east, Hatim went to the huntsman’s door, and having knocked, requested to be admitted. The huntsman opened the door, and was surprised on seeing a handsome stranger of noble and ingenuous countenance standing before him. “Tell me,” said he, “sir, who, and whence are you? I see you are a stranger; pray what is your business with me?”— “Worthy sir,” replied Hatim, “I am by birth an Arab; and the cause of my troubling you so early is this: I am afflicted with a pain through all my joints; and the physician has advised me to wash my body all over with the warm blood of a fox, whereby my recovery will be complete. Now I have been informed that you have some live foxes, which you lately caught when hunting. I pray you, then, let me have them all, and I will pay you any price you may name for them.”— “Truly sir,” replied the huntsman, “I am glad that I can supply you with foxes; for here have I not fewer than seven of them, the old one and six cubs, all alive; take them, then, at your own price, and I wish you joy of your purchase.”
The huntsman produced the foxes, the male tied by the four feet, and the cubs enclosed in a basket; and Hatim having paid him a price beyond his expectation, returned to the desert. There he opened the basket, and let out the cubs; bul when he loosened the strings that tied the old fox, he found that the wretched animal had not the power of moving. In fact, it had been strongly fettered by the huntsman, and confined all the time without food or drink, so that the spark of life had almost become extinct. Hatim was about to leave the fox to his fate, saying, “Thy life is at an end, God’s will be done;” when the female approached him, and said, “Generous Hatim there is yet one remedy that will restore him to life.”— “Name it,” replied Hatim, “and, if possiple, I will procure it.”— “A cup-full of human blood,” rejoined the fox, “warm and newly drawn, will be the means of his complete recovery.” On hearing this Hatim instantly opened a vein in his left arm; and having drawn a cup-full of his own blood, he administered the same to the perishing fox, whereby a perfect cure ensued. He then tied up his wound, while the animals prostrated themselves at his feet in gratitude for his benificence.
Hatim then resumed his southward journey, and a few days after, he arrived in a barren desert of burning sand. As he wandered in quest of water beneath the scorching rays of a vertical sun, his eve was refreshed with the sight of a verdant spot, which indicated the presence of a fountain. Thither he dragged his weary steps, till his eye could see the gushing, spring, when, lo! a huge serpent began to uncoil itself around the brink of the water. Hatim stood aghast, for he expected to be swallowed alive; but the serpent, far from assailing him, said in a soft voice, “Brave prince of Yemen, advance and drink; why do you hesitate?” Hatim was only the more astonished on hearing the words of the serpent, and for some time he stood still where he was. Again the serpent said to him, “Fear nothing from me; the water of this fountain is free for your use, drink and follow me.”
Hatim at length ventured to quench his thirst in the fountain, and resigning himself to his fate, he followed the path of the serpent across the desert. In a short time they came to a beautiful garden, in the centre of which was a shady grove lined with the most splendid couches and finest cushions. The serpent conducted Hatim to this cool and pleasant retreat, and said to him, “Noble Arab, sit down on this couch, and secure from danger rest awhile from your fatigue.” Having thus spoken, the serpent plunged into a pond of water that ornamented the garden.
Hatim, fatigued with his late journey, sat down on one of the couches, and much he marvelled at what took place before him. After he had remained here a short time admiring the beauty of the surrounding scene, a troop of fairies, beautiful as angels, each bearing a golden tray filled with emeralds, issued from the lake, and having made their obeisance, stood waiting his commands. “Who are you,” said Hatim, “and what is your business with me?”— “We are,” replied they, “the faithful subject of him who conducted you hither. He sends you these jewels as a present, and requests that you will do him the favour to accept them.”— “Convey my thanks to him who sent these jewels,” replied Hatim, “and say that I desire them not; and even if I did, I am alone, and cannot carry them away with me.”
Hatim had scarcely done speaking, when another troop of fairies, bearing trays filled with still more costly jewels, ascended from the water. “Who are you,” said Hatim, “and what do you bring in these trays?”— “They are jewels,” replied they, “the most precious that can be procured, which our sovereign hath sent for your acceptance.” — “I am beholden to your sovereign,” said Hatim, “but gold and jewels are at present of no use to me.” Meanwhile another troop emerged from the lake, carrying trays of gold and silver filled with all sorts of food and fruits. As Hatim had fasted long, the sight of food made his heart rejoice; but he would not eat of it till he asked for the hospitable sovereign of the place, that he might have the pleasure of breaking his fast with him, and of thanking him in person. Ere he had done speaking, a young man of beautiful countenance, attended by a troop of fairies, ascended from the crystal lake. When Hatim saw his noble form, he wondered within himself who this could be, and by what strange mystery they all issued from the water. The fairy king approached Hatim; and after mutual salutation, they both sat down on the same couch. His majesty then addressed Hatim, saying, “Tell me, noble Hatim, do you recognize me, for this is not our first meeting?”— “Truly,” replied Hatim, “I cannot now recollect of having ever seen you before.”— “I am,” resumed the king, “the serpent that conducted you hither from the fountain in the desert.”— “How,” said Hatim, “have you so suddenly passed from a shape the most horrible to a form the most beautiful!”— “The tale is long,” replied the king, “and therefore I shall waive the telling of it till we have broken our fast.”
After they had taken food together, they washed their hands from waters of gold, and the attendants presented them with fragrant perfumes, which they applied to their hands. Hatim then addressing his royal host, said, “I long to hear, sir, sir, by what strange mystery have I lately seen you in the form of a serpent” and how do I behold you now in human shape? The fairy king, smiling, thus replied, “Noble Hatim, know that I am of the fairy race; and that my name was Shams Shah previous to my transformation into a serpent. In the reign of Sulaiman the prophet (on whom be peace) I was one day seated in my garden the fairy regions, when thoughts the most diabolical entered my mind. I viewed with impatience the submission of our race to the powerful Sulaiman; I therefore resolved to collect my troops from all parts of my dominions, and next day descend upon earth and slay the whole of Adam’s race. This done, it was my intention to occupy for myself and subjects the terrestrial globe, of which I should become sole monarch.
“Having formed this resolution, I despatched winged couriers to the utmost bounds of my realms, summoning the choicest of my warriors to prepare for a dangerous expedition, and to be at the palace gate completely armed before the dawn of to-morrow. When evening came, I went to sleep as usual; and next morning, when I awaked, I went out to view my troops. They had indeed repaired to the place of rendezvous, armed as I had ordered; but to my astonishment, I beheld that their wings had been taken from them. Instantly I myself was transformed into a serpent, and since that period I have been doomed to creep the earth, the terror of every creature that beheld me. Days and nights I spent in prayer and supplication, but all of no avail; the voice of some invisible being used to sound in my ears, ‘Such shall ever be the fate of him who violates his promise.’ This awful voice made me tremble in the consciousness of my guilt; and I made vows and prayers to the Most High that I should never more let such thoughts enter my mind. The voice at length answered, ‘Thy doom is fixed; wait with patience in the desert till the arrival there of Hatim, prince of Yemen. When he comes, remember that thou administer to his wants, and serve him with thy whole heart and soul; then shalt thou be restored to thy original form, and whatsoever prayers he may offer up in thy behalf before the throne of the Supreme Creator, the same shall be answered.’
“Since the time of Sulaiman I have been doomed to pass my life under the loathsome form of a serpent; and it is now thirty years since I removed to this desert, watching night and day for your arrival. To-day, the moment I saw you, I knew you to be the far-famed prince of Yemen; and now may I request your prayers in my behalf?”— “Most willingly,” replied Hatim, “but first tell me what was the nature of the promise which you have violated?”— “In the reign of Sulaiman,” replied the fairy king, “my grandfather entered into a solemn compact with that mighty monarch of the creation, that none of our race should ever injure any of the race of Adam, or on any pretext invade the dominions of the latter, on pain of having our forms changed to that of the brute species. From that day till my reign, when, as I have said, the evil spirit entered my heart, this agreement was strictly observed on our part. Now, brave Hatim, I am ready to do what penance you as the representative of your race may ordain; and I humbly supplicate your prayers in my behalf.”
On hearing this, Hatim devoutly rose up, and having performed his ablutions and changed his garment, he bowed down his head upon the Sujjada,* with his face turned to the sacred Kibla,* he prayed for the divine mercy upon him whom heaven had deemed proper to chastise. The gracious Creator was pleased to listen to the fervent prayers offered up by his servant Hatim, who, though of the religion of the Jews, yet acknowledged and adored only “the one living and true God.” Him alone he praised and worshipped, and served night and day. Hatim also composed a book of devotion, in which he disapproves of all the rites and ceremonies of the Pagans and idolaters.
We are informed, moreover, that when Hatim found the end of his life approach, he summoned arond him all the men and women among his near relations, and thus addressed to them his parting advice: “My dear friends, our fathers and grandfathers and all our progenitors, have lived in ignorance of the true God, and even we ourselves know little; but soon will arrive a prophet, the last and the greatest that this world is destined to behold. This I speak from my knowledge of futurity, and many of you shall live to see my prophecy fulfilled. He to whom I allude will confer on men the heavenly gift of the true faith. When he comes into the world, commend to him the departed Hatim, and ask his blessing in my behalf.”— “But is it certain,” said Hatim’s friends, “that any of us shall live to see that happy period, and convey to the Prophet thy dying request?”— “Life is uncertain,” said Hatim, “but do you make known my request to your children, and let them do the same to their children, it is the last favour I ask of you.”*
It happened in the days of the Prince of Prophets (on whom be the peace and the blessing of God), that the daughter of Hatim, together with her tribe, were taken prisoners and carried before his eminence, who said that, if the tribe of Tai should embrace the true faith, they should be all set at liberty. The tribe of Tai scornfully rejected the proposal, refusing to abandon the faith of their fathers: whereupon the prophet ordered them all for execution. When the true believers had led the tribe of Tai to the place of execution, Hatim’s daughter remembered the words of her father, and said to the followers of the prophet, “Delay your purpose for a brief space, ye true believers! Go to the Chief of created beings (may the blessing of God be on him and his race), and say that the daughter of Hatim humbly request to be heard in behalf of her tribe.” When the prophet heard the message, he instantly ordered her to be released, being the daughter of a man whose fame for generosity was immortal. The messenger returned, and said to her, “It is the pleasure of his eminence that you be instantly set free, and safely conveyed to your own country; but your refractory tribe must suffer death.” On hearing this sentence, the daughter of Hatim proudly addressed them, saying, “Think not that I have so little of my father’s generous spirit as to accept from you either freedom or a paltry existence, while I leave my friends to suffer under your cruelty. Whatever be the fate of my companions, let that fate be mine.” The executioners again informed the prophet that Hatim’s daughter would on no account part with her tribe. His eminence admired her noble conduct, and said to his attendants, “Release the whole of the tribe of Tai, for the sake both of the father and the daughter.”
When Hatim’s daughter and her tribe were released, the dying precept of her father again recurred to her memory. She requested to have an interview with his eminence, which was granted. She then stated what her father had foretold on his death-bed; and in short, she and her tribe on that same day embraced the true faith.*
But to return to the fairy king. After Hatim had offered up his prayers in behalf of that race, both the king and his subjects were restored to their original form.
After the fairies had expressed their gratitude to Hatim, the king said to him, Providence had long beforeordained that you should visit our distressed race; but may I ask what has been the real object of your toilsome journey hither, and to what place are you bound?”— “The object of my journey,” replied he, “is to visit the island of Barzakh, where I expect to procure a pearl similar to this model” whereupon he shewed the fairy-king the model he had taken in silver of Husn Banu’s pearl. Shams Shah viewed it for some time, and said to Hatim, “The prince of Barzakh has indeed a pearl exactly of this size, but it is to be got from him only on one condition: he who can tell the history of the pearl shall have both the pearl and the daughter. But how will you be able to reach that island? the distance is great, and the route dangerous.”— “I am prepared for the worst,” replied Hatim; “therefore let fate take its course.” “you cannot escape with life,” said Shams Shah, “for the road is infested with men-devouring demons.”— “God” rejoined Hatim, “will be my protector.”— “True,” said the fairy king, “but to ensure your safety, some of the boldest of my subjects shall go with you as guides.” The king having thus spoken, addressed those around him, and said, “My good friends, you are well aware that to this generous man we owe our release from the bondage in which we had lately been. Now he has an arduous journey to perform; his business is important, and the road full of danger, I call upon the bravest of you, then, as you love your king, to accompany this noble prince, an be his protectors on the way.”— The fairies volunteered their services, saying, “Sir, tell us the nature of the difficulties which this prince has to encounter, and we will endeavour to obviate the same with our whole heart and soul.”
The fairy king minutely detailed the object of Hatim’s journey; on the hearing of which, the fairies were a little staggered in their resolution, and said, ‘The journey to the island of Barzakh is truly dangerous; but if your majesty in person design to accompany us thither, so that we may have an experienced leader in case of a war with the demons, we are ready to go this moment; otherwise, we pray to be excused.”— “Well,” said the king, “it is but right that I should do all that is in my power to serve the prince of Yemen. Therefore, as his safety requires it, I will follow you at a distance, so that he may come by no harm on the road.” The king made instant preparation, and having girded on his armour, he ordered four of his people to place Hatim on a golden litter and carry him on their shoulders. The order was speedily executed, and four fairies swift of wing seizing each a foot of the couch, soared aloft with their burden into the aerial regions. Three days and nights they traversed the air, when they found it necessary to alight in order to procure for their charge some food and drink. The place where they halted was within the territories of the demons, a circumstance of which they were not aware. Two of the fairies went in quest of food, while the other two remained to guard Hatim. It happened that a troop of demons on a hunting excursion passed that spot, and on seeing the golden couch on which one of Adam’s race reclined, with two fairies standing by, they without ceremony took possession of the prize. The demons were so numerous and their arrival so sudden, that the two fairies stood panic-struck, without offering the least resistance. Their first effort was to fly away; but despair supplied them with courage, and the next moment they made a desperate assault upon their enemies, of whom they slew numbers. At last, however, the demons won the battle, and the two fairies along with Hatim were made prisoners, and conveyed to the dwelling of the demon chief. There the fairies were first questioned, “Who is this man, and whence have you brought him?”— “This is Hatim, prince of Yemen,” they replied, “to whom we and our gracious monarch Shams Shah owe our restoration into life. Oh, chief of the demons, spare our lives for the sake of this brave man; and woe be to you should aught evil befall him.”
On hearing this, the demon said to them, “What is this I hear? Shams Shah has not been heard of for many centuries; how dare you say, then, that he is now alive?” The fairies detailed all the facts connected with their king; on the hearing of which, the demon maintained a long silence, as if meditating what course to adopt. At last he formed his resolution, and said to those near him, “Take the man and the two fairies to the deepest of our dungeons; there secure them till to-morrow, when we shall devour them.” The sentence was speedily executed, and Hatim with his two companions were cast into a dark and loathsome pit.
Meanwhile the two fairies who had gone in search of food, on returning to the spot where they had left Hatim, were astonished at seeing the ground covered with blood, and strewed with the carcases of demons. They looked everywhere for their charge and their friends, but no trace of either could they find. They said the one to the other, “Of what race are these demons, and how came they to be slain here? But above all, what is become of Hatim and our companions? I fear they have been attacked and overpowered by the demons that infest these regions. Let us ascertain the fact, and quickly give intelligence of it to our king.” Having formed this resolution, the two fairies approached the spot, expecting to find the dead bodies of their companions. In their course of the search, they found one of the demons grievously wounded, but not dead. They quickly gave him water to drink, and tied up his wounds, so that in a short time he recovered.
The fairies questioned him, saying, “Who are you, and to what tribe do you belong?” He replied, “I am of that race of demons whose chief is Mukarnas; a party of us were hunting to-day in this neighbourhood, when we chanced to surprise two fairies and a man, with whom we had a battle, in which I received these wounds. The demons conquered, and by this time they are feasting on the blood of their foes.” The fairies, on hearing this, speedily bore off the demon; and having returned to their own country in the space of three days, they presented themselves breathless before Shams Shah. The king said to them, “How is this? Did I not send you to Barzakh in charge of the prince of Yemen? How dare you, then, shew your faces here?”
The fairies trembling, replied, “Gracious sire, three days and nights we sped towards Barzakh; but at length hunger and thirst assailed both us and the prince. We then placed the litter in the shade of a tree, and two of us went in quest of food, while the other two remained to protect Hatim. When we returned, we found the spot covered with the carcases of demons, and from one of the wounded we learnt the sad news of the capture of the prince and our two companions. Had we known the dangers of the place, we should not have halted there; but God had decreed otherwise. On questioning the wounded demon, he informed us that the country belonged to Mukarnas, to whose presence the prince of Yemen and the two fairies were conveyed.”
Shams Shah being highly grieved, ordered them to produce the wounded demon, whom he thus addressed, “How dares your chief Mukarnas lay violent hands on my subjects? Truly he has forgotten himself; but he shall feel my resentment.” — “Sire,” said the demon, “my chief had heard for certain that you had been dead for many centuries; and though both the two fairies and the man informed him of the contrary, the tale was so extravagant that he could not believe it.” Shams Shah turned to his officers, and said, “Prepare the whole of my army for an instant expedition.”
The order was quickly obeyed, and thirty thousand of the choicest troops stood armed and ready at his gate. The king put himself at their head, and swift as the lightning they winged their way through the air. In three days they reached the territories of Mukarnas. There they halted, and the king despatched scouts to procure intelligence of the enemy’s quarters. “Be wary,” he said, “and quickly bring me word where the demon chief holds his court, and in what he is engaged.”
The scouts soon returned, and said, “That Mukarnas, accompanied by his demons, was then out hunting; and that they knew the very spot where they were.” Shams Shah then addressed his troops, and made them swear by the seal of Sulaiman that they would fiercely assail the demons, that they would slay them without mercy, and spare none. The fairies one and all took the solemn oath; and on receiving the signal from their king, they surprised the demons when hunting, slew the greater part of them, and made prisoners of Mukarnas and such of his subjects as survived. Shams Shah gave orders for their immediate execution; but he first sent for Mukarnas into his presence, and said to him, “Accursed fiend, hast thou forgot me? hast thou been well informed that I was alive? Thou hast treated with violence and oppression both my own subjects and a man who is under my protection; dost thou not tremble at the thoughts of revenge? Tell me this instant, what hast thou done with the prince of Yemen and his guides?”— “I, along with my friends, feasted on their carcases,” replied he, “the moment they were brought before me.”— “False demon,” rejoined the king; “did not your ancestors swear before the mighty Sulaiman, that they nor their posterity should ever injure one of the human race?”— “Well,” said the demon, “where is the powerful Sulaiman now and when did I bow to him in servitude”
Shams Shah said no more, but ordered them to pile together a quantity of dried wood, and when kindled to its height, hurl the demon into the flames. When the fiend saw that there was no escape, he said to the fairy king, “Will you give me my life, if I produce the man you mentioned?” — “If you bring me the man safe,” replied he, “there shall be no enmity between us.” The demon made the fairy king swear to this by the soul of Sulaiman, and then said, “Send some of your attendants to my dungeon where they will find both the man and his companions still alive.” The fairies accordingly went and broke open the dungeon, and having released Hatim and his guides, they conveyed them before the king.”
Shams Shah was overjoyed in once more meeting with Hatim. They sat down together and ate food; after which the fairy king said to his attendants, “It would be a crime to spare the life of such a monster as this demon, therefore cast him instantly into the fire.”— “How,” said the demon, “darest thou violate thy most sacred oath?”— “What hast thou to do with oaths?” returned Shams Shah, “thy whole life has been a lie; and who can blame me, if for the welfare of my fellow creatures, I disregard my promise to you?” In short, the fairy king destroyed the whole race of demons in that region, and appointed one of his own officers ruler of the conquered territory. He then addressed himself to Hatim, and said, “My dearest friend, what do you now intend to do?”— “I hold the same resolution,” replied Hatim, “as when I formerly left you.” The king hearing this, selected from among his troops for fairies of long experience, and endowed with superior skill and bravery, and commanded them to convey Hatim safe to the end of his journey. These seized each foot of the golden couch whereupon Hatim was seated, and soared aloft towards the sky. Night and day they continued their course; and when hunger or thirst assailed them, they took care to select a safe place where to halt. One day they were resting upon the summit of a mountain, where a fairy prince most beautiful of countenance had taken up his abode. This was the prince of the island of Tuman, who had fallen desperately in love with the daughter of the king of Barzakh. He had sought for that solitary spot to give way to his sorrow and anguish. The voice of his lamentation reached the ear of Hatim, who said to his guide, “My dear friends, there is some one near us who feels the pangs of sorrow; let us see what is the cause of his grief.” He quickly started from his couch, and following the directiom of the sound, he came to the enamoured prince. He said to him, “Tell me, my friend, who are you; and why do you make the rocks re-echo to the sound of your lamentation?”
The fairy prince raised his eyes, and saw beside him a man of noble form and pleasant aspect: he said to him, “Tell me first, son of Adam, who are you, and what is your business here?”— “It has been the will of God the Supreme,” said Hatim, “that I should visit this spot.”— “But tell me,” said the fairy, “what is the object of your journey hither?” “I have travelled thus far,” replied Hatim, “in quest of the pearl of the murghab, which I am informed is in the possession of the prince of Barzakh. He puts a question to every candidate for the pearl, which no one has yet answered.”— “You say right,” said the fairy prince, “and even we who are of the fairy race are unable to tell the history of the pearl; how then do you, a mere mortal, imagine that you will succeed?”— “For my own part,” replied Hatim, “my trust is in God; but tell me in the meantime what is the cause of your sorrow, and why have you chosen for your dwelling this solitary mountain?” The fairy prince replied, “Alas! I too am enamoured of the beautiful daughter of Mahyar, the prince of the island of Barzakh. One day in my father’s court I heard my friends speak in the highest terms of the beauty and excellence of this peerless damsel, whereby I lost the reins of my heart. I insantly went to the palace of Mahyar, and informed him by message of my wish to marry his daughter. He admitted me to an audience; and having produced the pearl of the murghab, he asked me if I could tell the history of it. As I was quite unprepared for such a question, and utterly ignorant of the nature of the pearl, could of course give no reply. I was then ordered to quit the court; and as I was coming out at the door, I happened to see the lady standing in the balcony of her window. The moment I beheld her my heart was pierced, and I became like one mad. In the agonies of despair I fled to this mountain, where I spend my nights and days in lamentation and sighs. I long for death to relieve me of my sorrow, since the idol of my heart can never be mine.”
When Hatim heard the prince’s history, he said to him, “Despair not, my friend, for I expect to succeed; and if I gain the prize, the daughter shall be yours and the pearl mine.”— “Your proposal is generous,” replied the fairy prince, “but excuse me if I say, that I doubt your success.” — “Listen,” said Hatim, ‘I shall tell you the nature of this pearl, which not only resembles, but is the egg of a murghab. The island of Barzakh was originally inhabited by the human species— but the tale is long, and it would be better that you should once more approach the court of Mahyar along with me.” The fairy prince accordingly rose up; and having thanked Hatim for his good intentions, accompanied him to the litter. There they both sat; and Hatim said to his guides, “Will you be able to carry us two to the island of Barzakh?”— “Nay,” replied they, “we could have carried four of you with the utmost ease.” Without further delay, the fairies lifted the chair, and soared aloft towards the clouds.
It happened that they had to pass over the territory of a demon prince, whose name was Muhaikal who having scented them from afar, said to his satellites, “I know that some of the fairy race are within my dominions; seize them instantly, and bring them to my presence.” The demons immediately were on the wing; and after four days of close pursuit, they overtook the fairies with the golden litter on which were Hatim and his friend, and brought them all to the presence of their prince. “Tell me,” said he to the fairies, “who are you, and whence have you brought this man?”— “We are the subjects of Shams Shah” replied the fairies.— “Impossible,” rejoined the demon, “it is more than a thousand years since Shams Shah has been heard of, and the very place of his abode is now overrun with serpents.”— “True,” replied the fairies, “we had been transformed into serpents; but by the prayers of this worthy man, we have been restored to our original shape.”— “Well,” resumed the demon, “now tell me where do you intend to carry this man?”— “To the island of Barzakh,” they replied. “And who is the other companion?” asked the demon. The fairy prince himself replied, “I hope I am not unknown to Muhaikal, to whom my family is distantly related.”— “Truly, I am much surprised, young prince,” said the demon, “to find you associate with any of the race of Adam; but fear nothing from me, my business is with your companion.” The demon then seized Hatim, and lifted him from the couch; when the fairy prince interposed, and said, “Beware Muhaikal: are you not bound by oath to Sulaiman himself, never to injure any of Adam’s race?” The demon, with a fiendish smile, said in return, “Where is Sulaiman now, that I should regard my oath to him? In truth, I mean to devour this son of Adam, therefore waste not your breath.” The fairy prince well knew the treacherous nature of the demon; he therefore resolved to meet him on his own ground, and said to him, “Mighty prince, it is beneath your dignity to stoop to the devouring of one man; leaving him to me then, as the success of my present undertaking depends upon him, and I promise to send you at least ten men in his stead.”
To this proposal the demon readily agreed, and said, “Noble fairy, I am most willing to accommodate you as we are in some degree related to each other. Let this man in the meantime be secured in my castle, while you go for the ten men you promised, and when you return with these, I will make him over to you.”— “Agreed,” said the fairy prince, “I ask only four days for my arrangement; but I will not suffer you to shut up this man in one of your dungeons.”— “Place him where you choose,” said the demon, “only let him be strictly guarded by my subject.”
Near that spot there happened to be a pleasant garden; it was therefore agreed that Hatim should remain there under the guard of the demons, during the absence of the fairy prince. Meanwhile the prince, with the four fairies that had conducted, Hatim thither, withdrew to a sequestered spot, and held a consultation as to further proceedings. “If,” said the prince, “we return to your king, and solicit his aid with that of his forces, the stipulated time will have expired long before we can return, and the demon will assuredly devour our friend. Let us, then, remain here in concealment, and watch a favourable moment when the demons are off their guard; then let us enter the garden, and having carried off the prince of Yemen, let us trust to the swiftness of our wings.”
The four fairies applauded the proposal; and at the hour of midnight, when the demons had fastened the door of the garden and betaken themselves to repose, the fairies took up the golden litter and flew softly over the wall. They looked warily around them, and found the demons all buried in sleep. Hatim, exhausted with sorrow and despair had also sought refuge in slumber under the shade of a tree. They lifted him gently from the ground, and having laid him on the litter along with the fairy prince, swift as the wind they resumed their aerial voyage. For the remainder of that night they winged their way with the utmost speed and at the dawn of day they came to a place of safety, where they halted for refreshment and repose.
To return to the demons. When daylight shone, and when they saw the gates firmly fixed, as on the preceding evening, they concluded that their prisoner was secure within, and thus they continued their watch for the appointed period of four days, while the fairies, on the other hand, were making the best use of the time. On the last day of the stipulated time, Muhaikal was anxiously waiting the return of the fairy prince; and when the hour of noon expired, he said to his satellites, “I see these fairies have not thought proper to keep their promise; they have gone and left the man to his fate. Let him be brought forth then immediately that we may feast upon him.” The demons opened the strong gates, and on entering the garden, what was their disappointment on finding their charge carried off! They returned to their chief, and informed him of the fact. Muhaikal was highly enraged, and ordered the sentinels to be punished with stripes, and then cast into a dungeon. In vain did they swear by Sulaiman, that they were not in the least privy to Hatim’s escape; the chief believed them not, and they were dragged to torture.
By the time the fairies had reached the boundaries of the desert of Kaharman, one of Muhaikal’s demons, who had left the court of his chief on the day when Hatim had been taken, happened to meet them. The demon at once recognized the fairies, and understood the case. He knew that his master had sharpened his teeth in order to feast on the man, he therefore endeavoured to seize Hatim and carry him off by force; but the fairy prince quickly drew his sword, and severed the intruder’s right hand from his body. The demon, furious with pain and disappointment, said to the prince, “Well, you shall pay dearly for this; you have cut off my hand when doing my duty towards my chief. I will inform the whole of my race of your treachery and violence, and the fiercest revenge will be the consequence.”
Meanwhile the fairies addressed Hatim, saying, “Brave prince of Yemen, we are now arrived at the line of separation between the fairies and the demon’s, beyond which we dare not advance,”— “Farewell then, my good friends,” replied Hatim, “I have myself the means of succeeding in the remainder of my journey.” The fairies here left him, except the prince of Tuman, who had an equal share of interest in the adventure. As they were about to enter the great desert which limited the region of the demons, Hatim asked his companion if he thought it safe to advance. “Truly, prince of Yemen,” replied the other, “no creature except demon can with safety approach these regions.”— “Cannot any of the fairy race visit them?” resumed Hatim. “The fairies,” replied the prince, “though not safe, have least to fear, as there is at present a trurce between themselves and the demons, which was ratified, after a bloody battle fought on these plains. The kings of both races took the field with the whole of their forces, and vast was the number of the slain, while victory inclined to neither side. At length peace was concluded, and the demons swore by Sulaiman of Iram never more to injure any of the fairy race; but they scruple not to violate their solemn oath to us, and to mankind they are most inveterate foes.”— “Enough,” and Hatim; “suppose I had the power of transforming myself into the likeness of a demon, and thus pass in safety through their territory; would you venture to accompany me?”— “Not publicly,” replied the fairy, “but I could easily succeed: during the day I should soar among the clouds, and at night I should descend to your place of rest.”
Hatim immediately took a vessel full of water, and having burnt the coloured feathers of the natika, he made the mixture as he had been directed. He then cast off his garment, and washed his whole body from head to foot, when, lo! his colour was black, and his shape became that of a hideous demon. When the fairy prince saw this frightful transformation, he was greatly astonished, and said to Hatim, “Wonderful man, tell me to what bird belong these feathers, which possess such potent qualities?” — “I procured them,” replied Hatim, “from a rare bird called the natika, the eggs of which are pearls such as that in the possession of Mahyar of Barzakh.” Hatim then detailed the occurrence of the tree where he listened to the conversation of the birds, but the information respecting the history of the pearl in question he prudently witheld till they should arrive at the court of Mahyar.
The fairy prince had now full reliance on Hatim’s skill and wisdom, and his heart rejoieed within him as the prospect of success brightened. The two friends commenced their journey; and when Hatim entered the land of the demons, he met with no interruption, for they all took him for one of their own race. After some days had thus passed, it happened that as Hatim and his fairy friend met to repose for the night, they were observed by one of the demon race. He went and informed his neighbours, that in a certain spot a demon had taken up his night’s rest, and that a fairy had descended from the sky at the same time, as if the meeting had been preconcerted. The demons very soon assembled round the two travellers; and said one to another, “These are strangers, and one of them is a fairy: we had better carry them before our king, that they may give an account of themselves.” To this proposal one of the demons would not assent; and said, “My dear friends, why should we on mere suspicion oppress these innocent strangers? One of them is of our own race, and with the fairies we have no enmity.”
The prince of Tuman happened to be awake, and was listening to this conference which ended in favour of those who were for making the strangers prisoners. He awaked Hatim, who addressed the demons in their own language, saying, “Friends, we have travelled far, and being fatigued, we here sought repose. Why have you disturbed our slumbers, and what is your business with us?”— “We wish to know,” they replied, “who are you?”— “For me,” said Hatim, “I am a helpless stranger wandering I know not wither. Shams Shah, the king of the fairies, has exterminated the tribe of Mukarnas, and burnt their dwellings, which is the cause of my being here. This he has done for the sake of one of the race of Adam, who is now journeying to the island of Barzakh. Now if you wish to serve your prince effectually, go and search for the man on whose account such a havoc has been committed, and leave peaceful travellers like myself and my companion to go their own way.”— “If your tribe,” resumed the demons, “has thus suffered, how can you associate with a fairy? Tell us of what tribe is your friend.”— “He is prince of Tuman” replied Hatim, “and one of your allies.”— “Enough said,” returned the demon, “you may sleep secure, none of us shall disturb you, as we may find better occupation in capturing the man whom you mention.”
The demons departed; and Hatim, addressing the fairy prince, said, “Let us arise, and speed hence; the demon race is not to be trusted.” They accordingly set off and journeyed without intermission till the evening of the third day, when they arrived on the sea-shore. “This,” said the fairy prince, “is the sea of Kahrman, in which is situated the island of Barzakh.”— “How are we to cross?” said Hatim, “for so far as my eye can reach, I see not any vessel on that wide ocean.”— “I shall find means for crossing the sea,” replied the fairy, “for at a distance of nine farasangs hence, there is a province where winged horses are bred. These animals can fly to any distance across the widest ocean, nor does the storm of the deep interrupt their course. Do you then, remain here during my absence, and I will go forthwith and procure two winged horses, by means of which, success will crown our adventure.”
The Prince of Tuman left Hatim on the sea-shore, and swiftly cleft the air with his pinions till he reached the country of the winged horses. As he was intimate with the prince of that province, he was speedily admitted to an interview, and after mutual salutation the fairy prince stated the object of his visit saying, “I require two of your swiftest steeds, in order to cross the sea to Barzakh: if you do me this favour, you will have a claim to my services for life.” On hearing his request, the prince gave him his choice of all his winged horses; and the prince of Tuman having selected the two he considered best, returned to his companion.
The two friends immediately mounted; and when Hatim saw the horses spread their wings and soar aloft like eagles among the clouds, his astonishment was beyond description; and so swift was their flight, that he could scarcely keep his seat. In a few days half the distance was run down; but Hatim was so overcome with hunger, thirst and sleep, that he found it impossible to proceed further. He mentioned his distress to the fairy prince, who handed a kind of small apple, saying, “Eat even a few grains of this rare fruit, and all your weariness will be dispelled.” Hatim immediately tasted of the apple, and the effect was miraculous; he felt his strength and vigour restored, nor did he during the rest of the passage feel the least fatigued.
A few days afterwords the horses descended upon the further shore of the sea of Kahrman. Hatim rejoiced to find himself safe on land and said to his companion, “My dear friend, surely we have passed the island of Barzakh, which, as I am informed, is in the midst of the sea.”— “Noble Arab,” replied the fairy, “this is part of the island where we have landed but it will take ten days more to reach the capital; and now that I think of it, I shall by your leave go and assemble my own troops, that they may accompany us thither.”— “Think better of it,” said Hatim, “are we forsooth going to wage war with Mahyar Sulaimanī?”— “No,” said the fairy prince, “but I know that we shall meet with many interruptions, and that soon, unless we use the precaution.”— “What time will be requisite for you,” asked Hatim, “to assemble your troops and return hither?”— “You may for certain expect me,” answered the fairy, “by the end of seven days.”
The fairy prince took leave of Hatim, who when left thus solitary began to explore the surrounding country. He soon came to a fragrant garden, the doors of which were all wide open. He entered; and his eyes were delighted with the sight of trees, which bore loads of fruit of every size and colour, and of finer quality than he had ever met with. This Hatim enjoyed himself for the week, walking undisturbed in the wide garden. The horses, too, were so tame and so attached to him, that during the day they grazed on the sea-shore, and at night they returned to the door of the garden.
Meanwhile the fairy prince reached his paternal dominions. When his subjects saw him, they quickly conveyed the glad tidings to his father and mother, who came out to meet their beloved son. After mutual greeting, the father thus spoke: “My dear son, it is long since you left us at the head of your troops on an expedition to the island of Barzakh. How did it happen that you absconded from your army? Thought you not of the distress and sorrow which we must have endured by your absence? But I will not upbraid you, my beloved son: tell me at once, have you attained the object of your wish?
The prince, with tears in his eyes, replied, “Forgive me, father, how could I expect success when I have acted so regardless of you? Since my departure, I have met with nothing but pain disappointment, till lately when my destinies have proved favorable. I have found a sincere friend in the noblest of the human race. Hatim Taï, the prince of Arabia, is now journeying from Shahabad for the pearl of the murghab, which is in the possession of Mahyar. He found me sad and solitary in the cavern of a mountain; he learned from me the cause of my sorrow, and said to me in the voice of benevolence, “Despair not, my friend, I am confident that I shall succeed; and as I desire only the pearl, I will bestow the lady upon you.” This,my father, is not a vain promise, for Hatim is pure in heart and sincere in speech.”
When the father and mother heard this statement, they laughed at the prince’s credulity, while the former said to him in reply, “Trutly, my son, you are more simple and inexperienced that I thought you. The most skilful of our own race have in vain endeavoured to procure that pearl; how then can a mere mortal of the race of Adam, who knows nothing of our secret arts, be expected to succeed in such an undertaking? Are you really so foolish as to build your hope on such a slender foundation?”— “Father,” replied the prince, “Hatim is a man of surpassing wisdom. He has travelled much, and has made himself acquainted with all the mystic sciences of the sublunary creation, With this intent he has accompanied me across the sea of Kharman, and is now waiting my return on the coast of Barzakh.”— “Well, my son,” said the king, “tell me your present purpose in parting with him, and in coming hither?” — “To obtain from you a convoy of your best troops,” replied the prince, “that we may proceed in safety to the court of Mahyar.”
The king, after brief consideration, summoned twelve thousand of his chosen troops, which he appointed as guards for his son, The prince took an affectionate leave of his parents, and at the head of his select army, departed for the island of Barzakh, while the king raised recruits to supply their place. In little more than the appointed time, the prince arrived in the island of Barzakh, and surrounded by his troops, passed the night in the garden where Hatim had resided, and next morning they commenced their march towards the capital. Meanwhile Mahyar Sulaimani received intelligence that a host of fairies numerous as the sand had landed in a remote corner of the island; whereupon he quickly led forth his own forces, so as to be ready to receive them, should their intention prove hostile.
When Hatim and the fairy prince with their chosen band approached the capital of Barzakh, they were surprised on seeing an army vastly superior to their own, prepared to dispute their passage. They soon discovered that these were the troops of the watchful Mahyar, and that no time was to be lost in coming to a proper explanation. The fairy prince despatched a messenger to state that his object was peace and amity, not strife and bloodshed; and that he came solely to visit the prince of Barzakh. The noble Mahyar instantly commissioned in return the commander of this army with order to state to the prince of Zuman, that if he came in peace, no one should molest him, and that his visit was extremely welcome.
In short, Hatim and his friend along with their convoy were allowed to enter the capital; and after they had been hospitably entertained, Mahyar sent them a message requesting to know the object of their visit. “Say to Mahyar,” replied the fairy prince to the messenger, “that the last time I visited him I was doomed to experience a painful disappointment; that at present I have accompanied hither the noblest of mankind, who has come from afar on a similar purpose.” Mahyar gave orders for their immediate admission to his presence, and addressing Hatim said “Tell me, prince of Yemen, what has been your object in visiting my dominions? Hatim produced the silver model of the pearl of the murghab, and related his past history so far as it concerned Husn Banu and Munir. “The lady,” concluded Hatim, “has imposed upon me as her sixth task, to procure her a match to this pearl.”— “And where,” said Mahyar, “can you find a pearl similar to her’s?”— “I have been informed,” replied Hatim, “that the only one equal to it in the world is in your possession; and my journey hither has been on that account.”— “Well,” resumed Mahyar, “I have such a pearl in my palace; and if you fulfil my conditions, you shall have both the pearl and my daughter.”
Hatim remained some time silent, and after mature reflection, said, “The pearl alone can be of service to me; but I have no intention to accept the daughter.”— “If you gain the pearl,” said the king of Barzakh, “you shall be free to accept my daughter or not, only she shall be entirely at your disposal, and you may bestow her on whom you please.” Hatim then, at the request of Mahyar, related the whole history of the pearl as he had heard from the natika in the desert. Mahyar listened attentively to his detail; and when Hatim concluded, he entered his secret apartment and brought forth the pearl, saying, “Brave Hatim, accept what you have fairly gained; and tell me how do you wish my daughter to be disposed of?”
Hatim instantly ordered the youthful queen to be married to the fairy prince of Zuman, a measure to which her father assented. After a month or so, Hatim took leave of Mahyar, and accompanied by the fairy prince and his bride, he came to the sea of Kahrman. He then requested the prince to return to his own country, while he himself should make his way to Shahbad. “At least,” said the prince, “let me send with you a guard of my own subjects as far as the kingdom of Shams Shah.” To this Hatim agreed, and having mounted his winged-steed, accompanied by a select guard, he recrossed the sea, and landed in the territories of the demons. Here they had not far advanced when the demons observed them, and prepared to dispute their passage. The fairies, so few in number, could offer little resistence: they therefore addressed their opponents, saying, “Good friends, we are both descended of one family; and we pass through your country bearing no enmity towards you. We have been delegated by our prince to convey his congratulations to Shams Shah, who after a long period of misery, is now restored to happiness.”
The demons, on hearing this, gave them no further interruption; and in the course of time they arrived safe in the dominions of Shams Shah. This king having received intelligence that strangers were approaching, mounted his steed and came out to meet them in person and great was his joy when he saw Hatim among them. He affectionately embraced him, and said to his guides, “May heaven reward your goodness, for you have done me the greatest service possible in restoring to me safe the generous prince of Yemen.” Having thus addressed them, he invited to a splendid feast, which lasted forty days.
Hatim then took leave of the fairy king, who supplied him with every thing requisite for his journey, and appointed four of his subjects to carry him on a golden litter to the city of Shahabad. Thither they swiftly conveyed him in the coarse of a few days. Outside the gates they descended from their aerial flight; and Hatim, at their request, gave them letters to their sovereign, with which they returned. He then entered the city, where the people immediately recognised him, and conveyed the tidings of his return to their lovely queen. Husn Banu threw her veil over her face, and gave orders for Hatim’s admission to her palace, where the counsellors of the city were then assembled. Hatim entered; and after mutual salutation, produced the pearl of the murghab in presence of the assembly, and stated the details of his marvellous adventure.
When Husn Banu saw the pearl she was highly delighted, and the court resounded with the praises of the noble Hatim, who withdrew to the Mihmanserai. There he met the Assyrian prince Munir, and said to him, “Your happiness, my friend, is now almost at hand: only one question remains unanswered.” After a repose of a few days, he presented himself before Husn Banu, and said, “Fair lady, let me hear your seventh question, that I may lose no time in the completion of my task.”— “The seventh and last is,” replied she, “to bring me an account of the bath of Badgard.” Hatim took leave of Husn Banu and the prince Munir, and prepared for his departure.
The Journey of Hatim to explore the Bath of Badgard— His arrival in that place.— His safe returns to Shahabad, and the marriage of Husn Banu with the Assyrian prince Munir.
WE are informed that after Hatim left Shahabad, he traversed a wide desert till at length he arrived in a populous city, where he saw the inhabitants assembled round the mouth of a well. He approached; and on asking one of them what was the matter, he was told that the son of the chief magistrate had gone mad, and was in the habit of frequenting the well, when at length he threw himself in headlong. “Three days,” said the man, “we have looked for him here, but no trace can we find of his body, nor is there any of our people bold enough to venture into the well, lest he should lose his own life.”
While they were in this conversation, the parents of the youth came weeping to the mouth of the well. Hatim’s heart melted when he witnessed their sorrow, and he said to them, “Despair not, my friends, I will myself dive into the well, and search for the body of your son; do you remain here till my return.”— “Generous stranger.” said the chief, “rest assured that we will with patience wait your return, should the period be even a month.” Hatim then plunged into the water; and after he had been some minutes in sinking, he felt his feet on firm ground. He opened he eyes, and saw not the well nor its waters, but an extensive plain illumined with the rays of the sun. After he had advanced some distance he came to a garden, and as the doors were opened, he entered. There he saw flowers of every hue, and in the midst of the garden was a palace of elegant structure. He entered a spacious hall, which he found to be furnished with splendid couches, on which reclined fairies of beautiful form. In the centre of the hall were two thrones of burnished gold, on one of which sat the fairy queen, of transcendent beauty and angelic countenance; and on the other, a young man of noble form and graceful mien.
When the fairies that acted as sentinels had observed Hatim’s approach, they immediately gave information to their sovereign that another of the race of Adam had arrived in the garden. The queen, addressing the youth upon the throne, said to him, “The stranger is of your race, is it your pleasure that we hold conference with him?” The young man assented, and the attendants accordingly conducted Hatim to the foot of the throne. The queen rose and graciously received him and having seated him on a couch beside her, she ordered him to be presented with food and drink. Hatim willingly accepted her hospitality; after which, the young man asked him whence he came and whither, he was bound. “I am a native of Yemen,” said Hatim in reply, “and I lately left the city of Shahabad on a journey to the bath of Badgard. When I arrived in a certain city, I saw all the inhabitants assembled round the month of a well; and on inquiring the cause of their anxiety, the chief told me with tears in his eyes, that his son had three days ago cast himself headlong into the pit. I was moved by his grief, and dived into the well, resolved to procure the dead body of the youth. But now I am bewildered, and know not whither to direct my search. You, I see, are the human race; may I ask whether you are the young man whom I seek?
The youth replied, “I am indeed that devoted person. I was one day seated at the mouth of the well, when the heart-ravishing fairy appeared to my enchanted sight. I lost hold of reins of reason, and for some days lingered like a maniac round the mouth of the well. My passion was completely beyond my control: I plunged into the water, and opened my eyes I know not by what means in his paradise. When the fairy queen beheld me she gladdened my heart with the charms of his society, and now my happiness is complete.”— “Deluded youth,” said Hatim, “can you be happy when your parents and relations are enduring the pangs of despair on your account?”— “I have no choice left,” rejoined the young man; “but should the queen give me leave, I will accompany you to my relations, and having assured them of my safety, instantly return.”— “Have patience, then,” said Hatim, “till I plead your cause.”
Hatim turned his discourse to the queen, and said, “Thy conduct, fair queen, is far from being generous and noble, in detaining this youth from his distressed parents. Allow him to accompany me for a few days, that he may console his father and mother; after which, he will return to you,”— “Stranger,” replied the queen, “I do not in the least restrain this youth in his movements. He saw me, and became enamoured of my person. In his despair he cast himself into the pit, for which I am not to blame. At present he has his free will to go whenever he chooses.” Here the youth stood up, and said to the fairy, “By your leave, fair queen, I have one request to make ere I depart, should it be agreeable to your will to grant it. Say that I am not to despair; that you will speedily come to my father’s house, and make me happy in once more beholding you.
Hatim for some time held down his head in silence, awaiting the queen’s reply; at length he spoke out, “Generous queen, if you have any compassion, assent to the youth’s request.”— “He asks of me,” she replied, “more than ever any of our race have granted to your’s.” In return, Hatim related to the queen numerous instances of kindness and compassion experienced by himself from the hands of the fairy race. To this the queen replied, “Brave Hatim, what you have stated is true; but this youth does not so sincerely love me as to deserve my regard”— “Had I not loved you from my heart and soul,” said the young man, “should I, regardless of life, of every human tie, cast myself healdong into the well?”— “To put your affection of the proof,” rejoined the queen “are you prepared to do whatever I request of you?”— “Command me,” said he, “and I will perform.”
The fairy queen summoned her attendants, and said to them “Go, fill the large cauldron with oil, place it on the fire, and make it boil to the utmost heat.” When the cauldron was heated, the queen took the young man by the hand, and said to him, “Now, if you love me, prove it by casting yourself this instant into the cauldron of boiling oil.” The youth instantly rose up, and was about to plunge into the burning liquid, when the queen exclaimed, “Hold, I merely spoke to try your affection. Now I am satisfied, and I agree to your request.” Hatim remained for about a month with the fairy queen and her lover. At the end of this period, the queen confirmed her promise, having sworn by the seal of Sulaiman, to visit the youth soon. Having then bid adieu to Hatim and her lover, she ordered some of her fairies to conduct them to the mouth of the well. The fairies seized the mortals by the hand, and in the twinkling of an eye they found themselves at the mouth of the well. The guides then vanished into the deep and Hatim presented the young man to his fond parents. The chief of the city and all the inhabitants were highly delighted at the sight and prostrated themselves at Hatim’s feet in token of their gratitude. They then returned to the city and for many days vied with one another in treating the generous stranger with every mark of hospitality.
At length the fairy, agreeably to her promise, visited the love-sick youth. Two weeks after, Hatim once more betook himself to the road, and in the course of a few days he arrived at a large and populous city. As he was about to enter the gates, he met an old man standing upon the road. When the old man observed him, he approached and said, “My blessings be upon you, noble stranger, welcome, thrice welcome, to our city.” Hatim returned this courteous salutation, whereupon the old man said to him, “If you will for this night reside in my house, and taste of my salt, it will be doing me the highest of favours.” Hatim thanked the old man, and accepted his hospitable invitation. Arrived in the house, the old man presented him with food; and after they had eaten together, the aged host said, “Tell me. noble sir, if such be your pleasure, what is your name, whence are you, and whither do you travel?”— “I am an Arab,” replied Hatim, “and am on my way from Shahabad to the bath of Badgard, which it is my intention to explore.” The old man hearing this, long held down his head in deep reflection, after which, he said to Hatim, “Devoted man, what enemy has sent you on so perilous an errand? I have been assured that no man has hitherto visited Badgard and come back to tell the news. The place is in the vicinity of a city called Katan, the name of whose king is Harith. Around his dominions are stationed numerous sentinels, whose duty it is to bring before their king whatsoever stranger attempts to visit Badgard. When carried to the presence of Harith, no one knows how they are treated, for they never return.” Hatim nothing daunted, related to the old man the cause of his journey, and detailed his former adventures in behalf of Munir the Assyrian prince. “This,” concluded Hatim, “is the seventh and last question, from which I will not shrink.”— “May heaven reward your generosity and bravery,” replied the venerable host; “be advised by me, and turn back: the bath of Badgard is all enchantment; but of its inner mysteries, no one can give the least account”— “Venerable sir,” resumed Hatim, “how can I possibly return? would you have me act as a false coward?”— “Listen to my counsel,” replied the host, “and cast not away your life like the frog that disregarded the advice of his friends, and at last bad cause for repentance.” “Tell me,” said Hatim, “what happened to the frog.”
The old man thus spoke: “In the region of Sham it happened once upon a time that a number of frogs were living happily together in a pond, when one of them took it into his head to remove to another pond in the vicinity. ‘Travelling’ said the frog to himself, ‘is the means of rendering the poor man rich.’ His friends remonstrated, saying, ‘Fool that you are, what absurd idea is this which has found its way into your head! Abandon such vain thoughts, otherwise you will have cause to repent when too late. Know you not that he who disregards the admonition of the wise will end in misery and shame.’ The brain of the frog was filled with the wind of self-conceit; he therefore would not listen to the advice of his friends, and forthwith quitted that pond, along with his wife and young ones. In their way to the next pond, they rejoiced in the anticipation of the happiness and ease and independence which awaited them. At lenth they arrived on the brink, and were about to enter their new residence, when all at once a water-snake thrust out its head to welcome them. This snake had for some time occupied the pond, and had devoured all the frogs that were in it. Having had no food for some days previous, the serpent no sooner saw the frogs than he began to devour them one after another.
“The old frog that had caused the removal, quickly dived into the bottom of the pond, and having escaped the mouth of the snake, he watched his opportunity and returned to his former abode. His old acquaintances seeing him return alone without his young, opened upon him the tongue of reproach, and said, “Rash full that you are, how dare you come among us without your wife and young ones? Tell us quickly, what has happened to them and you when absent; can it be possible that you have left them to destruction?” — The frog, full of shame and remorse, listened, but replied not, while the others were the more urgent in their inquiries. At last they all attacked the unfortunate frog, and having almost killed him, they said, “Such is the reward of vanity and folly; and he who disregards the admonitions of the wise will become involved in similar calamities.”
When the old man finished the story of the frog, he said “Brave Hatim, do you apply your ear to my advice, and turn back in time ere your calamity be past remedy.”— “I am confident,” replied Hatim, “that all you have stated is kindly meant; but remember that I am acting for others, not for myself, and I will never disgrace myself by abandoning a task which I have promised to accomplish; for the sake of God, then shew me the way, and let me depart.” When the old man saw that Hatim’s resolution was determined, he yielded to necessity and conducted him out of the city till they came to two roads, when he stopped short and said, “Noble Hatim, proceed on the right-hand road, which will take you through many a city and town. At length you will come to a high mountain, where there are dangers innumerable. Should it please God that you surmount these, you will then come to a spot where the road branches into two. There I would advice you to take the left-hand path, for though that to the right be nearer, it is highly dangerous; whereas the other, though circuitous, is safe and free from peril.”
Hatim thanked his aged friend and said, in reply to the latter part of his instructions, “My venerable benefactor, if our life be not decreed, we cannot live; and till the hour appointed by fate, we cannot die. Do you really advise me to shun the path that is short, and hold to that which is circuitous?” The old man smiled and said, “O Hatim, have you not heard what the poet saith?
“Farewell, my brave and generous friend, and let me warn you of your danger, if you follow not my directions.’, Hatim having taken his leave, proceeded on his way; and in the course of a few days, as he was approaching a large city, the sound of drums and trumpets reached his ear. It seemed as if the inhabitants were in the celebration of some grand festival; and when he drew nearer he found them assembled without the walls in a spacious plain, which was every where adorned with finely embroidered sofas and couches. In the midst of the assembly was a constellation of beautiful damsels, some enchanting the heart with their melodious song, and others occupied in the graceful movements of the dance. In another part of the plain were fires, and all the utensils of cookery employed in dressing food.
At length Hatim mingled with the joyful throng, and began to ask one of them what was the cause of such pleasure and mirth. “Stranger,” said they, “our city is every year visited by a formidable dragon which on the occasion transforms himself into a human shape. We are compelled, on pain of death and destruction, to allow this dragon to carry off his choice of the fairest of our daughters, whether rich or poor. Those that are most beautiful are led forth to these tents, arrayed in fine apparel, adorned with costly jewels, and having their hands perfumed with fragrant scents. The monster in human shape enters the tent where the damsels are assembled, and carries off her on whom his choice rests. We are forced to make this show of joy though our hearts are sad, for the appointed day is arrived, and heaven knows who is to be victim. We thus celebrate the nuptials ere we know who is the bride, but for the next seven days our joy is converted into grief and lamentation.”
On hearing this strange circumstance, Hatim concluded that the dragon must be one of the genii. He said to them, “Is it not madness in you to mimic joy at your own destruction?” — “How can we act otherwise,” they replied, “who is the man that can deliver us from our calamity?”— “Be of good cheer,” returned Hatim, “this night I will endeavour, by the aid of heaven, to rid you for ever of your evil.” When the people heard this promise, hopeless as it was, they informed their king and grandees of the stranger’s presence. Hatim was quickly introduced to the foot of the throne; and after the usual salutation, the king asked him, “Are you aware, brave stranger of the nature of this calamity with which we are afflicted? You say you can avert the impending evil; if you will do so, it will be to me and my subjects the greatest of blessings.”
In reply, Hatim gave the following instructions to the king: “When the dragon has come and made his choice of your daughters, say to him, that a neighbouring prince has just arrived in your city; that he has enjoined upon you not to give away your daughters on any account without his permission. Say further, if the dragon threatens destruction to you and your city, that you will rather bear the consequences of his anger than offend the stranger prince.” The king and his ministers assented to this proposal, and for the whole of that day detained Hatim in their society. Towards evening the dragon approached as usual; and when Hatim was informed of the fact, he asked permission of the king to go and see the monster. The whole assembly came out to see the arrival of the dragon, the size of which was immense. Hatim stood astonished when he saw its head reared aloft like a tall tree, and the stones crushed into powder beneath its weight.
At length the dragon reached the tents, and in presence of the terrified assembly, lashed the ground with his tail; and having performed some fearful contortions, he assumed a human shape. The people then crowded round him to proffer their salutations, and the king invited him to his palace, and place him upon his own throne. After they had partaken of food and drink, the genius rose up and commanded them to produce their daughters. “Let us proceed to the tent which they at present occupy,” said the king. The genius entered the tent, and after the examination, his choice rested upon the king’s only daughter, who was by far the fairest in the city. He came out and made known his choice to the king, who immediately started his objections, saying, “A prince of great power has for some time resided at my court, and if I do ought without his ensent, he will assuredly destroy both myself and my subjects from off the face of the earth. I must therefore, in the first place, consult him ere I allow one of our daughters to be carried off; if I receive his permission, good; if not, I will oppose your claim.”
The genius, enraged at such opposition, commanded the king forthwith to produce this daring stranger. Hatim was accordingly conducted before the king of the genii, who thus addressed him: “Brave prince of Yemen, I rejoice to meet you; it is now some time since I have seen you or even heard of your name. Tell me whence come you at present, and what is your object in exciting the people of this city to rebel against me? Do you really wish that I should destroy them in my wrath?”— “I am far from desiring what you state,” replied Hatim, “but the people of this country are now my subjects, and therefore they are right in withholding their allegiance from other powers. I am most willing however, to bestow on you the late king’s daughter, provided you comply with the ancient customs of my country.”— “Your request is but fair,” replied the prince of the genii; “let me hear, then, what these customs are?”— “The first,” said Hatim, “is this: I have a talisman which once belonged to a wise and illustrious ancestor. It is necessary, then, as a pledge of friendship, that you drink water from a cup of that talisman.”
To this proposal the prince of the genii expressed his assent, and Hatim took a cupfull of water, and dipped into it the potent muhra of the bear’s daughter, after which he gave the draught to the genius to drink. The charm took effect, for no sooner had the genius drained the cup, than by the decree of the most High, he was deprived of all his enhantment, and his power was reduced to that of an ordinary mortal. Hatim again said to him, “The next ordeal you must undergo, is to enter this large jar and remain for some time shut within it. If you do this, you shall have the king’s daughter; and otherwise, you must pay instead, a thousand rubies, a thousand diamonds, and a pearl of the murghab.”
The genius prided himself on his skill in magic, and his supernatural power; he therefore accepted the proposal without hesitation. Hatim brought a large jar, and told him to enter. The genius entered the jar, and Hatim immediately shut the mouth of it; and having pronounced the sacred charm of the blessed Khizr, the lid of the jar became firm as a rock of adament. He then called to the prince of genii to come out, but it was no longer in his power to do so. Hatim ordered the people to collect a large quantity of dried wood; and having piled up the same around the jar, he set fire to it. The genius now found himself undone; for as soon as he felt the heat, he made every effort in his power to break the jar and effect his escape. His attempts were fruitless, for in a very short time his life was consumed, and the jar was cast into a deep pit, and covered over with earth and stones.
Hatim then addressed the people, saying, “Rejoice my friends, for your enemy shall no more harass your country.” The king and of all the people proffered their gratitude to Hatim, and presented to him gold and jewels, and whatever was rare and valuable. “I covet not such gifts as you offer me,” said Hatim, “they are of no service to me at present, but I will accept them of your hands, and distribute them among the poor and destitute of the city.” Every house in the city resounded with the praise of Hatim’s wisdom, beneficence, and generosity. For three days they detained him, and vied with each other in doing him most service; and short, the whole country was one scene of joy and festivity.
On the fourth day Hatim took leave, and returned his face to the road. In the course of time he arrived at the foot on the mountain which the old man had described. He Passed on without any interruption and came to the desert, where he found abundance of sweet water, and witnessed many of the wonders of the creation. After he had passed through the desert, he came to the spot where the road separated in two directions. Here he unfortunately forgot the old man’s advice for he really intended to take the safe road though circuitous. “I must never,” said he to himself “disregard the advice of the wise, and the old man earnestly advised me to take the right-hand path.” Hatim accordingly proceeded rapidly on his way but he soon changed his mind, and turned a side in order to find the left hand road. He soon found himself involved in a forest abounding with underwood of thorns and brambles, so that every step he took was attended with difficulty. He had not long advanced when the clothes were torn to a thousand pieces from off his body; and bitterly did he regret his disregard of the old man’s directions.
Hatim at length, after vast labour, got clear of the forest; but no sooner did he appear in the open plain than thousands of griffins rushed upon him from all quarters. Hatim stood terrified at the sight, for those animals had a most frightful appearance, in some measure resembling a tiger, a dog, and a fox, as if these three animals had been formed into one. When the griffins were about to devour Hatim, on a sudden and old man stood by him, and said, “They who disregard the admonitions of the wise, end in distress and misery.”— “Forgive me, venerable man,” said Hatim, “I have grievously erred.”— “Lose no time,” said the old man, “in using the talisman of the bear’s daughter: cast it on the ground before us.”
Hatim immediately produced the precious muhra; and the moment he threw it upon the plain, the old man vanished from his sight. The effect of the muhra was wonderful: the ground assumed a yellow hue, it then became black as night; after that, it changed into green: and lastly, it became red as fire. Meanwhile the griffin were diverted from their attack upon Hatim, and ran furiously at one another. The fight was terrible, and in the course of a few minutes they all perished by mutual slaughter. Hatim looked with astonishment at the carnage, and praised the great Creator for his deliverance. He then took up his talisman prepared for his journey.
As he advanced, he came to a desert of solid brass, ‘the vegetation of which consisted of sharp pins of brass and iron. He had no sooner entered the desert than thousands of those pins pierced his feet. Onward he limped, however; and in the agony of pain, he said to himself “O Hatim, it becomes thee suffer calamity without murmur, for what avails regret at present.” He proceeded thus for some time, while the soles of his feet were pierced like a sieve, and he at length thought he could see the extremity of the desert, when on a sudden dragons of immense size and terrible aspect rushed from all quarters to devour him. The dragon bore a mixed resemblance to the eagle, the tiger, and the fox: their tails resembled that of the jackal, but infinitely longer, and their feet resembled those of the eagle. Hatim cast a look of despair all around him, and was about to bid adieu to life, when the old man stood by him, and having taken him by the hand, said, “Be brave; does it become Hatim to fear?”— “Wonderful man!” replied Hatim, “it is not in man to behold these monsters and refrain from trembling.”— “Have recourse to your talisman,” said the old man. Hatim drew out the sacred muhra, and cast it upon the ground. The effect was such as he had lately witnessed; for the dragons stood abashed, and the colour of the ground was changed, and when it became red, the monsters furiously encountered one another till not one of them was left alive.
Hatim took up his muhra and having resumed his journey, devoutly thanked his Great Preserver for his deliverance from such dangers. In the course of a few days he arrived at a very large city. When the people saw him they were truly astonished and said, “Tell us, wonderful man, how came you to pass in safety through the brazen desert?” — “I am indebted for my safety,” replied Hatim, “to the goodness of God alone. He has watched over me in the hour of danger, for none of the monsters that infest the desert has done me the least harm.” Now the forest of brambles and the brazen desert had been long considered to that city as impenetrable, and all travellers and caravans had been previously compelled to take a very long and circuitous route in approaching the city. When the people therefore saw Hatim approach their city by these dangerous quarters, they became highly interested in the subject, as they saw a prospect of opening an easy communication with the rest of the world. The king of that city got intelligence that a stranger had arrived safe by the short and dangerous route. He could scarcely believe the fact, and in the meantime detained the stanger. The messengers went and made the necessary investigation, without any interruption. They returned, and informed the king that if a path were cut through the forest, it would be quite safe in every respect.
At this intelligence his majesty was highly pleased, and having sent for Hatim, said to him, “Noble stranger, I have done you wrong in suspecting the truth of your statement, and I pray for your forgiveness. I confess I did not at first believe you, I therefore placed a watch over you till I should be ascertained of fact by my own people. Had I found out that you had deceived me, I should have punished you accordingly.”— “Your Majesty,” replied Hatim, “has acted as a king ought to, that is, according to strict justice; for it is highly expedient that the liar should suffer punishment. But why should I deceive you, in stating what was untrue?”
The king then brought forth loads of gold, and said to Hatim, “Accept this as a reward for the services you have done me.”— “I am alone,” said Hatim, “I cannot carry this gold with me, and I have no one to carry it for me.”— “My own people,” replied the king, “shall convey it to your country.”— “I have a dangerous journey to perform,” returned Hatim, “and an important task to accomplish: till that is done, I cannot visit my native country.”— “Tell me,” resumed the king, “whither are you bound, and I will accompany you in person.”— “In a neighbouring country,” said Hatim, “is the bath of Badgard: I am going to explore it, but I have heard that no one has hitherto returned thence with life.”— “You have heard the truth, noble stranger,” said the king; “I therefore advise you as a friend to banish such thoughts from your mind.”— “What is decreed must happen,” replied Hatim; “my resolution is fixed.”
When the king found Hatim resolute, he appointed two of his people to accompany him, and ordered them to shew him the way to Katan. They therefore set out; and after some days’ travelling, his guides told him that their orders permitted them to go no further. They then gave him directions as to his route, and took leave. When Hatim arrived within the territories of Katan, the people asked him whence he had come. He told them the object of his journey and the dangers he had experienced. When they heard from him that the griffins of the forest of brambles, with the dragons of the brazen desert, were extirpated, they rejoiced exceedingly.
At length Hatim reached the city of Katan and took up his residence for some days in a caravanserai. After he had reposed for a few days, he went to present himself before the king and having selected two pearls, two rubies, and two diamonds of immense value, he went to the palace gate. The janitors informed his majesty that a stranger wished to be admitted, and at the same time presented the jewels. The king ordered them to procure his name, and ask of him what was the nature of his business. They returned to Hatim, and examined him according to the king’s command. “I am a native of Yemen,” replied Hatim, “and have journeyed hither from the city of Shahabad; if further explanation be necessary, I will detail my whole history to his majesty, should he honour me with an interview.”
The janitors returned to the royal presence, and stated, “Sire, the stranger seems a merchant of Yemen, lately come from the city of Shahabad, and is very anxious to interview with your majesty.” Hatim was immediately admitted, and after courteous salutation on both sides, the king said to him, “Tell me, stranger merchant, where is your caravan, and what merchandise have you to dispose of?”— “Sire,” said Hatim, “It is now some time since I have left off traffic, and adopted the profession of a soldier, I happened to pass this way, and longed to pay my respects to your majesty.”
The king greatly admired Hatim’s courtesy, and treated him with the highest respect. After various conversations, Hatim took his leave, and the king said to him at withdrawing, “Brave stranger, I trust you will gladden my heart by residing some time at our court.” Hatim remained six months in the capital, and every day went to pay his respects to the king, with whom he became a great favourite. He one day, observing the king in good humour, took the opportunity of presenting to him a casket of most valuable jewels. The king received the jewels with great satisfaction, and having made Hatim sit by him, said, “Noble stranger, you have now resided with us for months, but never I have had the pleasure of doing you the least service. I am truly ashamed when I look upon the numerous gifts you have bestowed upon me, and when I consider that you have never asked of me my favour in return.”— “Long life to your highness,” rejoined Hatim, “there are few things earthly which I desire; but if I may be allowed to express my wish, there is one boon I would venture to ask of you.”— “It is already granted,” replied the king, “therefore speak your wish, and you shall be satisfied.”
Hatim availed himself of this favourable opportunity, and said to the king, “I have an ardent desire to explore the bath of Badgard; I humbly crave your majesty’s permission, therefore, that I may satisfy my curiosity.” The king for a long time held down his head in silent meditation while Hatim stood by anxiously waiting the result. At length his highness broke silence, saying, “Stranger, your request has caused me much concern for various reasons: in the first place, I have made a vow never to let mortal man visit the bath of Badgard; secondly, if you go, you must inevitably perish in the prime of youth; thirdly, I esteem you so hlighly that I should for ever regret having permitted you to throw away your life; and fourthly, I cannot endure the idea of parting with you, even on any account. Consider, then, my dear friend, how painful it is for me to grant the fatal boon you ask.”
To this Hatim replied, “Sire, I have experienced many dangers, and I have every hope of returning safe from the bath of Badgard.” He then related the whole of his past adventures in behalf of the Assyrian prince Munir, the lover of Husn Banu, and stated in conclusion, that his seventh and last labour was to explore the bath of Badgard. The king listened to Hatim’s narrative, and after he had finished, said to him, “Generous man! heaven will assuredly protect you in what remains of your task, for there lives not a more worthy object of the care of Providence than you. Let me, however, once more, remind you, that multitudes of people have hitherto entered that mysterious bath, and none has returned; but I hope you will be more fortunate. Meanwhile tell me truly your name and rank, for you are not what you seem.”— “My name is Hatim and my father is king of Yemen,” was the reply.
When the king heard this, he arose from his seat; and having clasped Hatim in his arms, said, “You speak the truth, brave prince of Yemen, for your brow is stamped with the seal of royalty; and your name is destined to be proverbial in the world for every thing that is noble and generous.” Having thus spoken, the king commanded a passport to be written for Hatim, to be presented to the janitor of the bath of Badgard. When the order for admittance was ready and impressed by the royal seal, the king delivered it to Hatim, and appointed a few of his people to accompany him to the door of the bath.
Hatim took an affectionate leave of the king, and attended by his guides, betook himself to the road. Fifteen days after, the top of a mountain became visible. Hatim asked his guides, “What mountain is this before us whose lofty peak pierces the vault of heaven?”— “It is the mountain of Badgard,” they replied, “and the entrance into the bath is on the side of it; but near as it may seem, it is still seven days’ journey hence.” When they arrived at the base of the mountain, Hatim was surprised in seeing it begirt with legions of armed men. He asked his guides whose were the troops and was told, in reply, that they were under the command of the bath, which no one could approach without an order from the King of Katan. At length they reached the outposts of the sentinels, who asked Hatim who he was and what was his business. The guides replied, “This is the prince of Yemen, who has received the royal permission for being admitted within the bath.”
The sentinels immediately conducted Hatim before the keeper, to whom he presented his passport. The keeper opened and inspected the royal firman, which ran thus: “Know that it is our will that you admit the prince of Yemen into the bath of Badgard. Let him not meet with the least interruption on account of our late vow; and if it is in your power to prevail upon him to return ere it be too late, fail not to do so, and your reward shall be great.” The keeper folded up the passport; and having conducted Hatim to his house, he entertained him for three days in the most hospitable manner. He then began to advise him earnestly not to proceed further, but on no account would Hatim listen to his friendly counsel.
The keeper of Badgard, finding all his entreaties of no avail, at length wrote to the king that the prince of Yemen was resolute in his design, and would by no means return. The king reluctantly answered, “That if it must be so, grant him admittance into the bath.” Once more the keeper endeavoured to dissuade him from his rash design, but Hatim’s resolution was fixed as a rock. “Follow me, then, desperate man,” said the keeper, “and the blame be yours.” Hatim followed the keeper till they came to the door of the bath. Its size was immense, such as he had never seen during his whole life. High on the wall was written the following words: “These are the enchantments of King Kaiumarath, which are destined to last for a time; whosoever enters shall not return. Here he shall remain without hunger or thirst.”
When Hatim had read the inscription, he began to meditate within himself whether that information was not sufficient, and it would be needless to go further; but on mature reflection, he resolved to enter and examine the place with his own eye. He took leave of the keeper and boldly entered the door of the bath. He had advanced about three steps; and on looking around him, he saw neither the keeper nor the gate of the bath, but a wide and dreary desert. He stood still in his astonishment, and said to himself, “O Hatim, here is certainly the end of thy earthly pilgrimage.” At length he aroused himself from such despairing thoughts, and began to wander about the desert. After some time, he espied at a distance a human form, and great was his joy at the sight, for he concluded that the place was inhabited at no great distance.
He quickly bent his steps towards the figure, and was delighted to find that the other was approaching him. When they came near each other, the strange figure saluted Hatim and having produced a mirror, presented to him. Hatim looked at the mirror, and said to the giver, “What is this I see in the mirror? Is it not the bath of Badgard, and are you not the keeper?”— “I am,” was the brief reply. “Tell me,” said Hatim, “how am I to find the bath?”— “Proceed forward,” said the strange figure, “and you will soon reach it.”
Hatim rejoiced at this information, and asked the man who he was. “I am,” said he, “a hireling connected with the bath: I wander about here waiting the arrival of strangers: when any one comes, it is my office to conduct him into the bath, and attend him while bathing. For my services I expect a handsome reward; so if you be liberal, it will be better for you.”— “Are you the only attendant,” inquired Hatim, “or are there others along with you?”— “There are others also who attend,” replied the man, “but it is my turn to-day.”— “Well,” said Hatim, “I have travelled from afar to enjoy this bath, therefore shew me the nearest way.”
The man of the bath proceeded onward, and Hatim followed till they had gone nearly a farasang, when a splendid structure surmounted by a lofty dome appeared before them. Arrived at the door, the guide entered the building, and motioned to Hatim to follow. Hatim entered and the attendant having conducted him to a marble cistern brimful of pure water, said to him, “Do you stand up to the middle in the water while I pour some of it over your head.” “Let me first,” said Hatim, “put off part of my clothes, for how can I enter the bath dressed as I am.” The man accordingly assisted Hatim in undressing; after which he led him into the water, and poured three jars full of the liquid over his head. On the application of the third jar of water, Hatim heard a tremendous sound, while thickest darkness enveloped the bath. As soon as the objects became visible, he looked around him, and to his utter dismay beheld the large dome converted into a solid mass of rock transparent as christal and firm as adamant. The floor was covered with water, which gushed from the earth, and had by that time reached the middle of his legs. The bath was every moment filling; and when the water became knee-deep, Hatim, in the utmost consternation, searched round and round for an outlet from his prison. His effort were fruitless, for no trace of the door remained; all around him was the same solid, smooth and transparent rock. Now the water rose to his breast while he like a maniac rushed backwards and forwards in search of a door. At length the depth of the water was such that his feet no longer reached the bottom. He then kept himself afloat the best way he could by swimming. While in this state, he could not refrain from saying to himself, “O Hatim, thy friends have uniformly dissuaded thee from this rash undertaking; but thou hast disregarded their admonitions, and hast cast thyself into calamity in spite of every warning to the contrary. Well, what will be, will be; if in the service of thy Creator thou shouldst loose a thousand lives, it is nothing.”
At length Hatim was borne up by the water to the very pinnacle of the dome. As his strength had become exhausted, he eagerly grasped the top of the dome, that he might rest a little from his toil. The moment he touched the top a deafening noise like the loudest thunder burst upon his ears, and in an instant he found himself standing in the midst of a desert. He looked all around him, but nothing met his sight except the bare earth and the silent skies. He advanced in one direction, for it seemed a matter of no moment which way he went, and he was congratulating himself on his escape from his late dangers, and considering himself clear of the enchantment. For three days and nights he thus proceeded, when he beheld at a distance a palace of lofty structure. He advanced towards it, expecting to find it inhabited; and on his nearer approach, he saw that the palace was surrounded by a beautiful garden. As the door was opened he entered; but he had not ventured far ere he thought it safe to remain without: he therefore made for the gate by which he had entered, but no trace of it could he find. He was now convinced that he had not yet got clear of the enchantment of Badgard.
Hatim, thus helpless, wandered in every direction through the garden, which abounded with flowers of every hue, and trees bearing fruit of every sort. As his hunger was extreme, he began to eat of the fruit; but his appetite was not in the least diminished. At last he ventured within the precincts of the palace, which was completely surrounded by statues of marble. The statues stood in straight lines, and the lower half of them seemed fixed in the solid rock which supported them.
Hatim stood wrapt in wonder at what he saw, and much he desired to know the secrets of that mysterious mansion. Meanwhile a bird like a parrot cried out to him from within the palace, “O Hatim, why stand you there? Why have you washed your hands of life in journeying hither?” Hatim listened to the voice of the parrot, and was about to enter the house, when he happened to cast his eyes at the inscription over the door, which ran thus: “Know, O mortal, that thou canst not escape hence with life. This is the enchanted palace of the renowned Kaiumarath, who, when hunting these regions, found a diamond weighing three hundred miskals.* He shewed this supurb diamond to his courtiers and attendants, and asked them if they could produce another to match it. They unanimously declared that the world did not contain its equal. Kaiumarath then resolved to preserve it in a place of safety, so that no one might rob him of it. For this purpose he built the bath of Badgard, the enchantment of which is all powerful. The diamond is preserved in the body of the parrot, and whosoever enters this garden shall never return, unless he get possession of the diamond. On the chair within the hall is laid a bow with arrows; let the visitor take it up and shoot three arrows at the parrot, and if he hit it right through the head, he will be able to break the enchantment; if he miss, he instantly becomes a statue of marble.”
Hatim read the inscription, and having cast a look of despair around the lifeless statues, exclaimed, “Alas Hatim! thou too art likely to remain here till the last day. Thou hast rashly perilled thy life, and thou shalt soon add one to the number of these victims. Well, thy troubles shall cease, and the silence of death is preferable to the miseries of life. But if the Almighty hath decreed that thou shouldst succeed, and that thy friend should be made happy, assuredly thou mayest yet escape.”
After this soliloquy, Hatim entered the hall, and lifted the bow and arrows from off the chair. He then took his station, applied one of the arrows to the string, and carefully examined his distance. He drew the arrow to his shoulder and shot, but the parrot instantly leaped from the spot where he stood, and clung to the roof of his cage. The arrow missed, and straightway Hatim’s feet became a mass of marble, even up to the knees.
The parrot again resumed his former station, and said to Hatim, “Desist, rash man, ere worse befall thee.” Hatim, in the utmost despair, began to consider his dismal situation, and while the tears filled his eyes, he said, “Now indeed is my life ended; but what then, is it not better to die at once, than to live in disgrace? ’Tis true my arrow has missed its aim and I am partly transformed into a block of marble. Let me try another: if I succeed, good; if not, I shall be at rest from the pangs of disappointment.” He seized a second arrow, shot and missed, for the parrot had quickly changed its place as formerly.
The parrot again called out to Hatim, “Desist, rash man, thy enterprise is beyond thy might.” Hatim had now become a lifeless statue up to the middle; but he resolved to persevere while life remained. “Now,” said he, “my hope of life is indeed small; may God preserve his creature from a similar fate. My death is near, but happen what may, I will discharge the third arrow. Whatever the Great Creator hath decreed, must come to pass.”
Hatim now placed his whole reliance upon God. He looked in the direction of the parrot, took his aim, then shut his eyes, and left fly the third arrow. In the hour of despair the hand of heaven saved him. The arrow pierced the brain of the parrot, which fell lifeless from the cage. Instantly a fearful storm of whirlwinds, thunder and lightning, burst with tremendous noise around him, while heaven and earth seemed involved in impenetrable darkness. Hatim was terrified, and knew not whether he was still in this world, or had entered the awful state of futurity. When the noise and disorder had ceased, he opened his eyes and looked in every direction. He no longer beheld the garden, nor the place, nor the parrot. At his feet lay the bow and arrows, and beside them a diamond of extreme brilliancy like the sun.
He rose up and seized the diamond, when instantly all the marble statutes started into life. When they saw Hatim they asked him, “Tell us who you are and how have been able to break the enchantment in which we were held?” He told them the whole occurrence; and when they heard him, they prostrated themselves at his feet, and vowed to serve him while they lived. Hatim took the rescued captives with him, and returned to the capital of Katan. On his way he met four or five of the aftendants of the bath, who, on hearing the result of his adventure, hastened before him to give the intelligence to their king. At length Hatim reached the city, and had an interview with the ruler, to whom he shewed the diamond, saying, “Sire, this jewel I present to you; but it will be necessary for me first to shew it to Husn Banu, after which it shall be returned to you. The people who accompany me are poor and destitute; be pleased, then, to furnish them with the means of subsistence till they reach their own country.” The request was liberally complied with, and the people joyfully departed. Shortly after, Hatim took leave of the king, who appointed a splendid retinue to accompany him home, and sent with him every thing requisite for the journey. Hatim accordingly set off, and without any interruption, arrived safe in Shahabad. The people rejoiced when they saw him, and forthwith conducted him to the gate of Husn Banu’s palace. The lady gave orders for his immediate admission, and asked of him all the occurrences of his journey.
Hatim related minutely what he had seen and suffered; and in conclusion, produced the diamond as proof. He then addressed Husn Banu, saying, “Now I have accomplished all your tasks, may I request that you will perform your promise to me.”— “I am entirely yours,” replied the lady; “dispose of me as you think proper.” Hatim gave orders for princely feast, and Husn Banu was forthwith married to the Assyrian prince Munir, and thus the two lovers reached the summit of their happiness.
After the celebration of the marriage, Hatim took leave of Munir and Husn Banu; having, agreeably to his promise, set the diamond to the prince of Katan, he took the road to Yemen. When he entered the bondaries of his native land, the whole country was one scene of joy. “Hatim,” said the people, “after long absence, has returned to his own country.” At length Hatim reached the capital of Yemen, and was affectionately received by his father and mother. His arrival was hailed with universal joy, and every house resounded with music and mirth.
Shortly after, Tai resigned the reins of government into the hands of Hatim, and lived in retirement for the remainder of his life, which amounted to twelve years, seven months, and nine days. Hatim reigned long over Yemen; and blessed with the affection of the beautiful Zarinpash, his life passed in uninterrupted happiness.
Thus ended the seven adventures of Hatim Tai. May this defective narrative in some degree perpetuate his memory, and may his virtues be imitated by future generations.
Vide Note, page 107.
↩This is no fictitious description, as similar scenes may be witnessed in Hindustan to this very day. We may observe, however, that the satti is here placed in its most favourable light; and that is the grounds on which the Hindu defends the practice were necessarily true, little could be said in opposition to him; but, situated as the world now is, it is to be feared that the widow’s affection is not always so very powerful as to carry her through the fiery ordeal. It is to be hoped that the time will speedily come when the rays of a purer faith dispel from the fair regions of India a foul custom, that has originated from the demon of superstition, and has been maintained through the influence of a corrupt and interested priesthood.
↩Black-hearted.
↩Speaking, or having the faculty of speech.
↩Murghab signifies properly an aquatic fowl, but is generally applied to a duck. There is also a river so called in the province of Khorasan,— Vide Borhani-Kati.
↩Barzakh, according to the Furhang-i-Mathnavi, is the intermediate stage between this world and the next— like the purgatory of the Roman Catholics.
↩In the east, the most ordinary division of time is into watches, or rather was so formerly. In the astronomical day of twenty-four hours (or from sunrise to sunrise), there are eight watches, or consequently every watch is at an average three hours. The day is divided into four watches, of which the second terminates always at noon, hence do-pahr, i. e. two watches, is synonymous with mid-day; also si-pahr, or three watches, signifies the afternoon. The night is, in like manner, divided into four watches, the second of which expires at midnight. In Hindustan, the pahr is divided into eight equal parts called ghari, each equal to twenty-two minutes and a-half. We may add, that in Hindustani, the phrase ath-pahr, or eight watches signifies perpetual.
↩The Sujjada is a small carpet upon which the Mahommedans prostrate themselves at prayer.
↩The Kibla is that spot to which the Musselmans direct their face in prayer, which is now the temple of Mecca. Jerusalem was the Kibla of the Mahommedans in the early part of Mahomet’s life, as it had been of the Jews and Christians previously; but in the second year of the Hijra, the Caaba of Mecca was fixed upon as the Kibla of the Musselmans, and in that direction (as nearly as they can discover) they turn their faces at prayer, in whatever quarter of the world they may be situated.
↩This is a fact, at least it is stated as such by good authors. Of this occurrence a more detailed and accurate account is given in the large historical work of Mirkhond, entitled, “Rozat-Us-Suffa.”— Vide Preface.
↩The preceding episode is (we suppose) inserted to shew that Hatim was a good Mahommedan de facto, if not de jure, and consequently that his prayers were highly efficacious.
↩The miskal is a dram and a-half.— Rich. Dict.
↩