According to some historians[[117-1]] Abraham Ibn Chasdai was the spiritual head of the Barcelona Jewish community, but it is not impossible that he also may have been somewhat intimately connected with the medical profession. In his book The Prince and the Dervish there are several references to the healing art and its many intricacies, which suggest more than a superficial acquaintance with the subject. But there is no doubt whatever that Ibn Chasdai was an eminent Hebrew and Talmudical scholar, and that he had a considerable knowledge of Arabic and Greek, which enabled him to translate into Hebrew some books written in these two languages[[117-2]].
His only book, however, which has a permanent literary and ethical value is The Prince and the Dervish. Though it is only a free Hebrew translation of an Arabic book, which was in itself a mere version of a volume that had originally been composed in Greek, it has always enjoyed much popularity among readers of neo-Hebrew literature. It has not only been repeatedly published[[118-1]], but it has also been translated into several languages, including Latin[[118-2]], Spanish, and Jewish German.
The Prince and the Dervish possesses in an eminent degree the qualities which make any book attractive, viz. a pleasing style and interesting subject-matter. In style it is a happy imitation of that found in the Bible, and is remarkable for the ingenuity with which certain verses thereof are used in a somewhat different sense from that which they have in it.
It consists of thirty-five chapters, full of charming tales and fables, together with many valuable maxims and proverbs. Rhymed prose intermingled with verse is generally used. The subject-matter is derived chiefly from the Talmud and the Midrash, but partly also from other Oriental sources. It is curious to note that several of the stories have been reproduced in a somewhat modified form by Boccaccio, Lafontaine, and other writers belonging to more modern times. But they possess a special characteristic of their own—they invariably end with a moral.
Passing now to a more detailed account of its contents, it is necessary to give the story, which is the framework within which the subordinate episodes are included. It runs as follows:—
“Once upon a time there lived in a certain state in India a cruel and despotic king, who only lived for his own enjoyment. He hated, in consequence, every kind of religious restriction, and even persecuted those of his subjects who, like the members belonging to the sect of the so-called Dervishes, led a retiring and ascetic life. His hatred of them acquired additional intensity when the chief of his courtiers disappeared one day from the palace, and was reported to have become a Dervish himself. A royal decree was issued, which forbade the Dervishes to remain in any part of the king's dominions, and which at the same time fixed a severe penalty for any disregard of the proclamation.
“Now it so happened that soon after this event a son and heir to the throne was born to the king. He summoned his astrologers to tell him of the future destiny of the newborn prince, and was informed that the prince would in the future become a great friend of the Dervishes, and favour and promote their cause. Thereupon the king ordered that the infant prince should be taken to a secluded castle, which stood upon a solitary island, and that he should be kept there under the closest surveillance until the time when he should ascend the throne. This order was strictly observed and carried out for a number of years by the king's servants. But when the prince had grown up, he was allowed by them to walk about the island by himself. Now on one of his walks the prince came across a strange looking man, who was sitting and meditating in a lonely spot near the sea. This man was the former chief courtier of the king who, as already stated, had joined the sect of Dervishes, and afterwards led a vagrant life. The strange appearance and peculiar attire of the Dervish attracted the attention of the prince, who, having engaged him in conversation, was so greatly charmed with it that he expressed a desire to have this interesting meeting repeated. The Dervish consented, and in their subsequent meetings many topics, including chiefly theology, ethics, and philosophy, were discussed. The Dervish, according to the Eastern fashion, wove tales, fables, and maxims into his discourses, which interested the prince so much that he offered the Dervish his life-long friendship as a mark of his sincere attachment to him. He also assured him that he would extend his favour to the whole sect of Dervishes as soon as he should succeed to his father's throne.”
Before proceeding to give some extracts from The Prince and the Dervish it should be observed that, as already stated before, it is written in rhymed prose, intermixed with rather heavy verse, it is impossible to translate them literally or fully. The few passages, however, that are here rendered will no doubt be sufficient to enable the reader to form some notion of the most interesting portion of the book.
One of the best moral stories that occur in The Prince and the Dervish is the following[[120-1]]. It runs thus:—
“In the far East there was a little island, the inhabitants of which had some strange customs, notably in regard to their selection of a king to rule over them. Being averse to an hereditary monarchy, they used to go once every year to the sea-shore, and choose the first poor and shipwrecked stranger whom they happened to meet there as their king. As such, he was driven in a state coach to a magnificent palace, and there he was permitted to enjoy for a whole year all the rights and privileges possessed by an Eastern potentate. But, as soon as the year of his reign was over, the king was stripped of his royal garments, brought back to the very spot where he had been found, and there left to himself.