BOOK VII.
The journey of Hatim to explore the Bath of Badgard—His arrival in that place—His safe return to Shahabad, and the marriage of Husn Banu with the Assyrian prince Munir.
After Hatim left Shahabad he traversed a wide desert till he arrived in a populous city, where he saw the inhabitants assembled round the mouth of a well. He approached; and asking one of them what was the matter, 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 had thrown 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 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 dive into the well, and search for the body of your son; 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 plunged into the water; and after he had been sinking some minutes felt his feet on firm ground. He opened his eyes, and saw not the well but an extensive plain illumined with the rays of the sun. Advancing some distance he came to a garden, and as the doors were open, he entered. There he saw flowers of every hue, and in the midst of the garden 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 observed Hatim’s approach, they 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 conducted Hatim to the foot of the throne. The queen rose and graciously received him; and having seated him on a couch beside her, 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 mouth 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 water. 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 of 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 this heart-ravishing fairy appeared to my enchanted sight. I lost hold of the 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 this paradise. When the fairy queen beheld me, she gladdened my heart with the charms of her 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 well, 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 you 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: “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 yours.” 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 headlong into the well?”—“To put your affection to 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 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 affection.
At length the fairy, agreeably to her promise, visited the enamoured youth. Two weeks after Hatim once more betook himself to the road, and in the course of a few days 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 favor.” 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; 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 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 had 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 the pond along with his wife and young ones. On their way to the next pond, they rejoiced in the anticipation of the happiness and ease and independence which awaited them. At length 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, 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 fool 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 had finished the story of the frog, he said, “Brave Hatim, 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 not to be shaken, 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 advise you to take the left-hand path, for though that to the right be the 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?
‘Take the road that is safe, though it be long;
Marry not a shrew, even if she seem an angel.’
“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 everywhere 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 shew of joy, though our hearts are sad, for the appointed day is arrived, and no one knows who is to be the 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 endeavor, by the aid of heaven, to rid you forever 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, 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 this dragon has come, and made his choice of your daughters, say to him, that a neighboring 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 placed 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 due 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 stated his objections, saying, “A prince of great power has for some time resided at my court, and if I do aught without his consent, 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 shall refuse 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 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 touched by that talisman.”
To this proposal the prince of the genii expressed his assent, and Hatim took a cupful 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 enchantment, his power 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; 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 adamant. He then called to the prince of the 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 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 praises of Hatim’s wisdom, beneficence, and generosity. For three days they detained him, and vied with each other in doing him service; and the whole country was one scene of joy and festivity.
On the fourth day Hatim took his leave, and turned his face to the road. In the course of time he arrived at the foot of 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 aside 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 from his body; and he bitterly regretted his disregard of the old man’s directions.
Hatim at length, after vast labor, 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 an 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 you.”
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 griffins 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 and 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 these pins pierced his feet. Onward he limped, however; and in the agony of pain, said to himself, “O Hatim, it becomes thee to 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. At length he 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 dragons bore a mixed resemblance to the eagle, the tiger, and the fox: their tails resembled that of the jackal, and their feet resembled those of the eagle. Hatim cast a look of despair around him, and was about to bid adieu to life, when the old man stood by him, took him by the hand, and said, “Be brave; does it become Hatim to fear?”—“Wonderful man!” replied Hatim, “it is not in any mortal 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 color 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 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 astonished, and said, “Tell us, wonderful man, how you were able 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 in that city as impenetrable, and all travellers and caravans had been previously compelled to take a 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. When the king got intelligence that a stranger had arrived safe by the short and dangerous route, he could scarcely believe the information, and immediately despatched some of his people to ascertain the fact and in the meantime to detain the stranger. The messengers went and made the necessary investigation. 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 assured of the fact by my own people: had I found that you had deceived me, I should have punished you accordingly.”—“Your Majesty,” replied Hatim, “has acted as a king ought, that is, according to strict justice; for it is 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 neighboring 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 caravanseraï. After he had reposed for a few days he wished to present himself before the king. Selecting 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 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 honor me with an interview.”
The janitors returned to the royal presence, and stated, “Sire, the stranger is a merchant of Yemen, lately come from the city of Shahabad, and anxious to have an interview with your Majesty.” Hatim was immediately admitted, and 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 conversation, 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 my 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 favorite. He one day, observing the king in good humor, 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 have I had the pleasure of doing you the least service. I am ashamed when I look upon the numerous gifts you have bestowed upon me, and when I consider that you have never asked of me any favor in return.”—“May your Highness live long,” 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 will venture to ask of you.”—“It is already granted,” replied the king; “therefore, speak your wish and it shall be satisfied.”
Hatim availed himself of this favorable 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 highly, that I should forever regret having permitted you to throw away your life; and, fourthly, I cannot endure the idea of parting with you, 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 labor 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, as I conceive, 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, clasped Hatim in his arms, and said, “You speak the truth, brave prince of Yemen; your brow is stamped with the seal of royalty; and your name is destined to be proverbial in the world for everything that is noble and generous.” Having thus spoken, the king commanded a passport to be written for Hatim, to be presented to the keeper and guardian of the bath of Badgard. When the order for admittance to the bath was ready and impressed by the royal seal, the king delivered it to Hatim, and appointed a few of his people to accompany him.
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 to see 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 keeper 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 admittance 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, conducted Hatim to his house, and 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. The king reluctantly answered, “If it must be so, grant him admittance into the bath.” Once more the keeper endeavored 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 if it would not be needless to go further; but on mature reflection, he resolved to enter and examine the place with his own eyes. He took leave of the keeper, and boldly entered the door of the bath. He had advanced but three steps, when, 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 astonishment and said to himself, “O Hatim, here is certainly the end of thine earthly pilgrimage.” At length he aroused himself from 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 bent his steps toward the figure, and was delighted to find that it was approaching him. When they came near each other, the strange figure saluted Hatim, and having produced a mirror, presented it 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 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, 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 onwards, 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 conducted him to a marble cistern brimful of pure water, and said to him, “Stand in the water while I pour some of it over your head.”—“Let me first,” said Hatim, “put off my clothes; for I cannot enter the bath dressed as I am.” The man assisted Hatim in undressing; after which he led him into the water, and poured three jars of the liquid over his head. On the application of the third jar of water, Hatim heard a tremendous sound, while thick darkness enveloped the bath. As soon as objects became visible, he looked around him, and to his dismay beheld the large dome converted into a solid mass of rock transparent as crystal and hard 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 efforts were fruitless; no trace of the door remained; all around him was the same solid, smooth, and transparent rock. Now the water rose to his breast, and like a maniac he rushed backwards and forwards in search of some way of escape. At length the depth of the water was such that his feet no longer reached the bottom. He then kept himself afloat 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. Well, what will be, will be; if in the service of thy Creator thou shouldst lose a thousand lives, it would be nothing.”
Finally 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 around, but nothing met his sight except the bare earth and the silent skies. He advanced, it seemed a matter of no moment which way, congratulating himself on his escape 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, 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 safer 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.
Wrapt in wonder at what he saw, Hatim much desired to know the secrets of that mysterious mansion. Meanwhile a bird like a parrot cried to him from within the palace, “O Hatim, why stand you there? Why have you washed your hands of life by journeying hither?” Hatim listened to the voice of the parrot, and was about to enter the house, when he happened to cast his eyes on 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 in these regions, found a diamond weighing fifty ounces. He showed this superb diamond to his courtiers and attendants, and asked them if they could produce another to match it. They declared that the world did not contain its fellow. Kaiumarath then resolved to preserve it in a place of such safety that no one could rob him of it. For this purpose he built the bath of Badgard. 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 directly through the head he will be able to break the enchantment; if he miss, he at once becomes a statue of marble.”
Hatim read the inscription, cast a look of despair upon the lifeless statues, and exclaimed, “Alas, Hatim! thou too art likely to remain here till the last day. Thou hast too rashly risked thy life and shalt soon add another to the number of these victims. Well, in that case thy troubles will cease, and the silence of death is preferable to the misery of life. But if the Almighty has decreed thy success, then thou wilt yet escape and thy friend be made happy.”
After this soliloquy Hatim entered the hall and lifted the bow and arrows from 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 leaped from the spot where he stood, and clung to the roof of his cage. The arrow had missed; and straightway Hatim’s feet became a mass of marble up to the knees.
The parrot resumed his former station, and said to Hatim, “Desist, rash man, ere worse befall thee.” In the utmost despair Hatim began to consider his dismal situation, and while the tears filled his eyes, he said, “Now indeed is my life ended; but is it not better to die than to live in disgrace? 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 changed its place as before. Again the parrot called, “Desist rash man, the enterprise is beyond thy might.” Hatim had now become a lifeless statue up to the waist; but he resolved to persevere to the last. “Now,” he said, “my hope of life is indeed small; may God preserve all others from a similar fate. My death is near, but happen what may, I will discharge the third arrow. Whatever the Creator has decreed, must come to pass.”
He now placed his whole reliance upon God, looked in the direction of the parrot, took his aim, then shut his eyes, and let fly the third arrow. In the hour of his despair the hand of heaven saved him. The arrow pierced the brain of the parrot, which fell lifeless from the cage. A fearful storm of whirlwinds, thunders, and lightnings burst around him, while heaven and earth were involved in impenetrable darkness. Hatim was terrified, and knew not whether he was still in this world or had entered eternity. When the noise and disorder had ceased, he no longer beheld the garden nor the palace nor the parrot. At his feet lay the bow and arrows, and beside them a vast diamond of brilliancy like the sun.
He rose up and seized the diamond. Instantly all the marble statues started into life. When they saw Hatim, they asked, “Who are you, and how have you been able to break the enchantment in which we were held?” He told them the whole occurrence; and they prostrated themselves at his feet and vowed to serve him while they lived. Hatim took them with him and returned to the capital of Katan. On his way he met some of the attendants of the bath who, on hearing the result of his adventure, hastened 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 complied with and the people joyfully departed. Shortly after, Hatim took leave of the king, who appointed a splendid retinue to accompany him home furnished with everything 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 the palace of Husn Banu. The lady gave orders for his immediate admission, and asked him to relate the occurrences of his journey.
Hatim narrated in detail what he had seen and suffered, and produced the diamond as proof. He then addressed Husn Banu, saying, “Now that I have accomplished your tasks, may I request that you will perform your promise to me?” She replied, “I am entirely yours. Dispose of me as you think proper.” Hatim gave orders for a princely feast, and Husn Banu was married to the Assyrian prince Munir, and so the two lovers reached the summit of happiness.
The celebration of the marriage completed, Hatim took leave of Munir and Husn Banu; and having, agreeably to his promise, sent the diamond to the prince of Katan, he started for Yemen. When he entered the boundaries of his native land, the whole country was one scene of joy. “Hatim,” said the people, “after so long an 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.
His father shortly afterwards resigned the reins of government into the hands of Hatim, and lived in retirement for the twelve remaining years of his life. Hatim reigned long over Yemen; and blessed with the affection of the beautiful Zarinposh, passed his life in uninterrupted happiness.
Thus ended the seven adventures of Hatim Taï. May this narrative in some degree perpetuate his memory, and cause his virtues to be imitated by future generations.
[The End]