Historians have informed us that there was a certain king of Kharzim who had a son accomplished in mind; and that, through the medium of several men of intelligence, the fame of Husn Banu came to the hearing of this prince. In the heart of this youth was formed an eager desire to see Husn Banu; he therefore sent his own painter with the view of having a sight of Husn Banu, so as to have a portrait of her drawn and brought to him. The painter departed, and after several days arrived in Shahabad, where Husn Banu’s people, according to their custom, attended and presented him with food, shewing him every attention. After some stay, when about to take leave, they conveyed him to Husn Banu’s presence; she kindly inquired into his circumstances, and offered him money for his journey. The painter said, “My wish is to serve under your government, and spend the remainder of my life on your threshold.” Husn Banu asked, “What is your profession?”—“I am,” said he, “a painter, who can delineate the moon from behind a curtain.”[4] Husn Banu then said, “Well, you may delay your departure for a little.” Some short time after she began to consider in her mind, “How can I get a portrait of myself, for the painter is a stranger. However, what will be the harm of his delineating my features from behind a curtain?” The painter said, “Most bountiful lady, do you stand on the roof of the house[5], and cause a vessel full of water to be placed below, then look down into that vessel.” Husn Banu did so, and the painter seeing her form in the water, drew the picture and went with it to his own house, where he delineated every line and mole[6] that existed on the original. He at the same time made two copies of the portrait, one of which he presented to Husn Banu, and the other he kept for himself. Shortly after, he requested leave of Husn Banu to return for his family, if agreeable to her; on which she furnished him with money for the journey, and granted him permission.
The painter then conveyed the portrait of Husn Banu to his own prince, who, the instant he saw the picture, became quite frantic. When he returned to his senses, he determined in his own mind to set off without his father’s leave; and without money or necessaries for the journey, without informing any one of his design, and taking no one with him, he put his trust in God, and at the dead of night departed for Shahabad, where in due time he arrived, after encountering the fatigues of the road. Husn Banu’s people brought him food, as was their wont with regard to others, and shewed him all possible attention. Next morning they offered the prince coins of yellow gold, saying, “Accept this for expenditure on your way.” The prince replied, “To me gold is of no use.” Husn Banu’s people observed, “You seem penniless, pray accept this gold, for our lady bestows it in the service of God.” As he persisted in saying that it had no value for him, they informed Husn Banu, that “a traveller arrived yesterday, who will neither eat food sufficient for him, nor accept gold.” Husn Banu having summoned him to her presence, said, “Well, stranger, why do you refuse gold? Gold is a thing which in times of difficulty people find useful; it converts the pale countenance to red.” The prince replied, “When I came hither, I left much treasure and gold behind me. I am Prince of Kharzim; thy portrait has driven me mad, and my ardent desire to see thy face has sent me hither.” Husn Banu held down her head, and after some time said, “Young man, abandon such vain ideas; if you were the zephyr itself, you should not have wafted your breath over my ringlets.” The prince to this replied, “At least I will sacrifice my miserable life at thy gates.”—“To give away your life,” said Husn Banu, “is easy, but to see my face is impossible: however, if this idea has found a place in your heart, then you must submit to my injunctions.” The prince said, “Command me, and I shall from my soul consider it as a favor.” Husn Banu said, “The first thing I have to propose is this saying, ‘What I once saw, I long for a second time’; and you must travel till you find an explanation of it. Inform me where the man is that utters these words, and also what he has seen. After you have brought me a solution of this first enigma, I shall tell you the second.” The prince asked where that man dwelt; to which Husn Banu replied, “If I myself knew that, I should have sent my own people for the investigation of the circumstance.” The prince held down his head for some time, and then said, “I am ignorant in what direction I ought to go.”—“Then,” replied Husn Banu, “banish from your thought the idea of seeing my face.” Here the prince observed, “Thus bewildered, whither can I go? I have at least one resource left, and that is to die in thy city.”—“In my city,” said Husn Banu, “there is no room for such as speak thus foolishly; my people would not suffer your remaining.” Hereupon the prince said, “I suppose I must direct my steps towards the desert, in order to find the way and explore the intricacies leading to the abode of that man who exclaims in the words above-mentioned. If my stars prove friendly it is well, and if otherwise, I will sacrifice my life for thee.” Husn Banu then stated, “It will be requisite to enter into an agreement as to the length of time for which I am to expect your return.” To this the prince said, “For the space of a year.”
Husn Banu then ordered them to present him with food to eat and water to wash his hands; and having furnished him with necessaries for his journey, she requested to know his name. The prince replied, that his name was Munīr Shamī[7]; and then taking leave of Husn Banu, like one deprived of sight and hearing, he shaped his course to the wilderness, and with tears in his eyes began to traverse the mountains and the deserts. In short, the prince wandered towards the borders of Yemen, and sitting down underneath a tree in the desert, he gave vent to his tears copiously as the showers of early spring. It happened that Hatim Taï was passing that way on a hunting excursion, and came close by the prince Munīr. Hatim seeing a handsome youth with elegant apparel thus weeping, his heart melted on his account, and his eyes were filled with tears, as he said, “What calamity can have befallen this stranger? I must go and inquire.” He went up to the prince, and in condoling language asked him, “Oh, brother! what distress has happened, what accident has occurred, that thou weepest so?” The prince raised his head, and was surprised at seeing a youth of pleasant countenance, and of air and gait noble as the sun, the flowers in the rosebud of his cheeks fully blown, clothed in elegant apparel, and having his person accoutred with armor, standing by him and interesting himself in his condition. He replied then, “Oh, youth of benignant countenance, to me what avails the mentioning of my sorrows, which can be alleviated neither by my telling nor by your hearing?” Hatim said to him, “Let your mind be at ease; communicate to me the secrets of your heart, and whatsoever lies in my power, as my trust is in God, I will not fail to perform. I will supply you with money if it be of use to you; and my frail life is constantly devoted to the service of the Almighty, which consists in relieving the distress of my fellow-creatures.” The prince Munīr, in rapture, exclaimed, “Oh, brother! may God preserve your life,” and instantly taking out Husn Banu’s portrait, which he kept in his bosom, he handed it to Hatim, and said, “Judge yourself what must be my condition.” Hatim looked at the portrait and remained for some time in a state of abstraction; at length, he said, “With regard to those questions which she proposes, if you can suggest to me any plan, I will use every exertion in its accomplishment.”
In short, Hatim carried the prince along with him into Yemen, and there hospitably entertained him. After they had rested three days, he asked the prince whether he had any method to point out by which he could serve him. The prince replied, “Alas! I can propose nothing; to you I resign the affair and its accomplishment, and will remain grateful for your kindness while I have the breath of life.” Hatim called his domestics and strictly charged them, saying, “You shall continue to supply travellers with food, and the poor with money, the same as if I myself were present; so that it may not be known that I have gone anywhere from home, and let each of you be diligently occupied in his own department.” Having issued these orders, he took the prince by the hand, and set out from the capital of Yemen on the road that leads to Shahabad, where, in the course of time, after encountering the toils of the journey, they both arrived.
Husn Banu’s people conveyed them to the caravanseraï, presented them with food, and offered them gold. Hatim rejected both, saying, “Worthy people, I have not come hither for food or gold; I will neither taste of the one nor accept of the other.” Of this the people informed Husn Banu, who having summoned them both to her presence, said to them, “Why do you refuse gold, a thing which will one day be of service to you? The wise have remarked, ‘A thing laid by, will be found useful, though it be even the head of a serpent.’”[8] Hatim observing that the amassing of gold was proper only for the purpose of distributing it, stated, “Lady, the fame of your beauty and perfections has reached my ears; now if you will agree to one request of mine, I will accept of your gold and eat of your food, but otherwise I will depart hungry and thirsty from your city.” Husn Banu asked him, “Stranger, what is the request with which you wish me to comply?” Hatim answered, saying, “For one instant unveil your face, and afterwards I shall do whatsoever you command.” Husn Banu said, “Till once you have brought a solution to my seven questions, it will be impossible for you to see me unveiled.” Hatim asked what the seven questions were; and without waiting the reply, added, “You must promise me further that, if I should answer them, you shall become mine, and that on whomsoever I may bestow you, you shall not dispute my commands.” Husn Banu assented, saying, “When I shall have become yours, you shall do with me what you think proper; you can either bestow me on any other person, or cause me to remain in your own house.” Hatim then observed, that it would be requisite to call some witnesses, in whose presence this agreement might be ratified. This was accordingly done, and Hatim had the agreement confirmed before several people. After this, food was presented, of which they partook, and Hatim addressing Husn Banu, said, “This prince is my brother, who is to remain in your city till my return, and to him I expect that you will pay some attention.” To this Husn Banu assented, and Hatim then requested to know her first question. “My first question,” replied Husn Banu, “is this: There is a certain man who exclaims, ‘What I once saw, I long for a second time.’ Where is that man? what has he seen? and why does he long for the same a second time? When you have brought me all this information, I shall then tell you my second question.” Hatim having heard this, took leave of Husn Banu, and having conducted the prince Munīr to the house appointed for guests, he set out on his perilous journey.
Hatim began to consider in his mind, “Now, where am I to go, of whom can I ask my way, and what plan ought I to adopt?” But, on further reflection, he said to himself, “I have, by the aid of God, devoted my whole exertions to the service of my fellow-creatures, without any selfish consideration: assuredly, then, my Creator will conduct me to the proper place.” With this reflection, he fixed his reliance on God, and proceeded towards the wilderness. After a few days he arrived in a desert where not a bird was seen to flap its wing. Two or three days thence he was startled at seeing a wolf in pursuit of a milch doe, and so near that he was on the point of seizing her. Hatim shouted aloud to the wolf, “Ravenous animal, desist, she has a young one, and the milk flows from her breast.” The wolf stood still, and said, “Undoubtedly you are Hatim, as your heart is endowed with such compassion.” He asked, “How do you know that I am Hatim?” The wolf replied, “There is none but Hatim who evinces compassion and kindness to this extent towards his fellow-creatures, rational and irrational; and the name of Hatim is renowned in every quarter. But as you have this day withheld me from my prey, let me now have something to eat.”—“What do you eat?” said Hatim. The wolf answered, “Flesh is my food.” Hatim said to him, “If the small quantity of flesh which is on my body be agreeable to you, say the word, and I will give it you.”—“Nothing can be better,” replied the wolf, “than the flesh on your thigh.” Hatim then unsheathed his knife, and having cut away the flesh from his own thigh, he threw it to the wolf. The latter ate, and was satisfied, and said, “Oh, Hatim! why have you left your own capital of Yemen, and for what reason do you wander in this desert?” Hatim told the wolf, that the prince Munīr Shamī had fallen in love with Husn Banu; that she had seven questions for proposing, and that she was to accept only that man who could answer them; “and I,” said Hatim, “have undertaken, through the aid of Providence, to accomplish this task. The first question is this: ‘Where is the man who exclaims, What I once saw, I long for a second time?’ In order to be informed of this I sallied forth, recommending myself to God; but not knowing where that man is, I have directed my course to the desert, and thus far I have advanced.” The wolf here replied, “I do not know myself the place where that man is, but I have heard from the report of others that his abode is in the desert of Hăwaïda, and that whosoever goes thither will see him.” Hatim asked the wolf whether he knew where the desert of Hăwaïda lay; to which he answered, “As you go forward from hence, the road branches into two; avoid the path to the left, and proceed on that to the right hand, and it will lead you to the desert of Hăwaïda.”
Meanwhile the doe, having testified her gratitude to Hatim, departed; and the wolf likewise took his leave. Each of these animals looked back to see whether Hatim followed them; but the pain arising from his wound was so intense that he could not proceed, and he fell down at the side of a tree. It happened that underneath that tree a pair of jackals had formed their haunt, and were at that moment absent in search of food. When the two jackals, who were a male and a female, returned, they observed Hatim asleep, and the following dialogue ensued between them: “Here is one of the human race; how has he been brought hither? We must quit this place, for he can have no sympathy towards creatures of a different species.” M. “It is probable that this is Hatim on his way to explore the desert of Hăwaïda; and he has sunk down exhausted from the pain in his thigh.”—F. “How do you know that this is Hatim?”—M. “I have been informed by the learned that on a certain day Hatim should arrive at this tree.”—F. “What sort of a personage is Hatim?”—M. “He is Prince of Yemen, and one of God’s elect, and many a trial awaits him; we must not leave him distressed in heart.”—F. “How has he fallen into this state?”—M. “A wolf was about to seize a milch doe, and Hatim cut the flesh from his own thigh, and gave it to the wolf in lieu of the doe, which he thus preserved by involving himself in calamity.”—F. “Among the human race, are there really some who are thus endowed with humanity? Heaven knows, there is little compassion in mankind!”—M. “The human race are the noblest of God’s creatures; and Hatim in particular is extremely generous, endowed with humanity, and of high honor; he is also one who feareth and adoreth the Creator, for whose sake he tore off his own flesh and gave it to the wolf.”—F. “Thus wounded in the thigh, how can he live? or when can he reach the desert of Hăwaïda?”—M. “If the brains of the fowl called the Părīrū[9] could be applied to his wound, a complete cure would take place in the space of an hour; but this remedy it is almost impossible to procure from the place where it is.”—F. “Where is it to be found?”—M. “In the desert of Mazanderan; it is a fowl like a peacock, with a head like that of the human race. He allures all those who attempt to seize him, by giving them sherbet to drink, by the gracefulness of his movements and the sweetness of his looks.”—F. “Who is it then that can bring this remedy, and by the grace of God restore Hatim to health?”—M. “If you will attend to this youth for the space of seven days, I will go and bring the head of that fowl.”—F. “Nothing can be better, for it will be an instance of humanity from the part of the brute creation towards the human race. Until you return, while life remains in my body, I will not suffer a living creature to come near this youth.”
Hatim listened to the conversation of the jackals, but he was so exhausted that he had not strength to raise up. Meanwhile the male jackal, leaving the female, set out for Mazanderan; and on his arrival there, he saw the animal he was in quest of, sleeping underneath a tree. He approached it, and seizing its head in his mouth, he gave it such a pull that he severed it from the body, and returning with it he arrived agreeably to his promise. The female during his absence had rested neither night nor day, nor did she suffer any living creature to approach the tree. Hatim was conscious of all this, how the jackal having procured the head of the Părīrū, had now placed it before his female companion. The female jackal then with her mouth forced open the head, and having extracted the brain, applied it to Hatim’s wound. The instant it was applied, Hatim’s pain was removed; he rose up, and looking at the jackals, said, “You, though of the brute creation, have acted most humanely towards me; but you have without cause deprived another animal of life: in this you have not done well.” The male jackal said, “For that crime let me be answerable; and do you rest at ease. What, though I am of the brute creation, still I acknowledge a merciful God.” About an hour passed in such discourse, after which the flesh closed on Hatim’s wound, and he experienced a complete cure. He then addressed the jackals, saying, “You have acted most beneficently towards me; command me then in any way I can do you a favor, and whatever service you will require of me I will with all my heart and soul accomplish.” The jackals replied, “In this neighborhood there live a couple of ravenous hyenas, that every year devour our young ones, our strength being of no avail against them. If it is in your power, remove from us their depredations, and it will be doing us the highest favor.”
Hatim requested the jackal to shew him the haunt of the hyenas; which being done, he set out, but found that the place was empty. He there sat down till it was night, when both hyenas male and female arrived, and were surprised at seeing a man stationed in their abode. Growling, they said to him in their own language, “Oh, son of man! this is our dwelling place, not yours; how came you to sit here? Arise, and go your way, otherwise we shall tear you to pieces in this very spot.” Hatim replied, “Creatures of the Almighty, your own lives are dear to you, so ought you to consider the lives of others; and if you delight in destroying life, tremble for your own. On what account do you devour the young of the helpless jackals? Truly you have not the fear of God, and you have need to repent.” They said to him, “How come you to feel sympathy for the jackals? why do you not look after your own affairs?” Hatim replied, “I beseech you, by that God who hath created you and the whole universe, to abstain from eating their flesh; God is bountiful, and he will assuredly send you sustenance.” The hyenas, in answer to this, said, “We never will spare them.”
When Hatim found them thus callous and unmerciful, and disinclined to act honestly, he instantly sprung forward and suspended himself to the necks of the hyenas, by which means he threw them down, and fettered them. He then considered with himself, “If I kill them it will be contrary to my nature; for hitherto I have not inflicted pain on any living creature.” But on farther reflection it came into his mind, that it was highly proper to chastise ferocious animals. He therefore drew forth his knife, and having broken the teeth and cut off the claws of the hyenas he left them, and devoutly prayed to God to relieve the pain of the animals. The hearer of prayers attended to Hatim’s request, and removed the pain from the hyenas. Hatim then untied the fetters and set the animals at liberty; they fell at his feet, saying, “How can we henceforth obtain sustenance?” He replied, “God is bountiful.” Meanwhile the jackals presented themselves, and said, “Henceforth let the maintenance of the hyenas be left to our care, and while we live we shall provide for them.”