[73] It does not appear that the astrologer’s prediction was fulfilled—though a blind man once shot a crow, but, like the astrologer, for one hit he missed a thousand times. A good story is told of an essay in the capacity of astrologer on the part of Anvarí, the celebrated Persian poet. It so happened that in 1186 A.D. (581 or 582 A.H.) there was a conjunction of all the planets in the sign of Libra. Anvarí predicted a storm which would eradicate trees and destroy all buildings. When the fatal day arrived, it was perfectly calm, and there was the whole year so little wind that the people were unable to winnow their corn. The unlucky poet-astrologer was obliged to fly to Balkh, where he died, in the reign of Sultan Alá-ed-Dín Takash, A.D. 1200 (A.H. 596).
Astrologers having predicted for the year 1523 incessant rains and disastrous floods, the good abbot of St. Bartholomew, in Smithfield, London, built a house at Harrow-on-the-Hill, and stored it with provisions. Many people followed his example and repaired to high places, in order to escape the expected deluge. But no extraordinary rains occurring, the disappointed soothsayers pacified the people by confessing themselves mistaken just one hundred years in their calculation!—Readers of Chaucer will remember how the arch-rogue Clerk Nicolas, for his own wicked ends, predicted, to his simple landlord, the carpenter, that a flood was presently to come upon the earth, greater than that which Noah and his family “rode-out” in the Ark.
Mrs. Meer Hasan Ali, in her interesting Observations on the Mussulmans of India, says: “It is wonderful the influence which a najúm [i.e. astrologer] acquires in the houses of many great men in India. Wherever one of those idlers is entertained he is the oracle to be consulted on all occasions. I know those who submit with a childlike docility to the najúm’s opinion, when their better reason, if allowed sway, would decide against the astrologer’s prediction. If the najúm says it is not proper for Nawáb Sahib and his lady to eat, drink, or sleep, to take medicine, to give away or accept any gift, the najúm has said it, and the najúm must be right.” (Vol. i, pp. 69, 70.)
[74] Akhfash was a Muhammedan professor of grammar and literature who was so unlucky as not to be able to attract any disciples; he therefore trained a goat and lectured to it, the docile animal approving, doubting, or denying his propositions as occasion required, and in course of time, when it had attracted a very large number of scholars, its functions ceased.—E. Rehatsek, the translator.
[75] We have in this scene, between the simple dweller in the desert, the infatuated Farrukhrúz, and the Amír, a capital example of Oriental humour.
[76] Thus the sultan received our hero on a footing of equality with himself, and the scene recalls the meeting of the two brothers, King Sháhriyár and Sháh Zamán in the opening of the Arabian Nights.
[77] Notwithstanding all that has been written by European orientalists during the last half-century regarding the Muhammedan religion, the notion is still widely prevalent that, according to the Kuránic teachings, women have not souls. The idea is quite preposterous, and must have been set afloat by bigoted Christian “champions” who wished to throw discredit on the doctrines of Islám. In the Kurán future rewards are promised and future punishments are threatened to men and women alike. And in Muslim stories, which may be considered as faithfully reflecting the general religious belief, women are often spoken of as having gone to Paradise at their death, while it is not unusual for the transcriber of a book to insert at the end a prayer for the souls of his father and mother. Moreover, among the traditions preserved of Muhammed is the following, which shows that the Founder of Islám could occasionally indulge in a little harmless pleasantry: An old woman came to him one day, and asked what should be the lot of such as she in Paradise. The Prophet replied, that no old women would be there, upon which the poor crone set up a loud wail, but Muhammed presently soothed her by smilingly explaining that all the old women would become young when they entered Paradise.
[78] Yet again “forty days”!
[79] The name of the king is derived from Alakápuri, the city of Kavéra, the god of riches, and Alakésa is therefore an appellation signifying a wealthy king.
[80] The Pandit remarks that this kind of statement often occurs in stories in proof of the just reign of a monarch. The Hindú idea is, that so long as justice and equity characterised a king’s rule, even beasts naturally inimical were disposed to live in friendship. When timely rain fails or famine stalks through the land, turning his eyes from the natural causes, the orthodox Hindú will say that such a king is now reigning over them unjustly, and hence the calamity.