Page [28]. “He put three of the pearls into his mouth and the other three among his clothes.”—It is customary for travellers and others in the East to conceal their money and valuables about their clothes and in the folds of their turbans. Many Oriental stories illustrate this practice. For example, in the tale of the Poor Ropemaker (Arabian Nights—vol. vi, of Jonathan Scott’s edition), he receives a sum of money from a benevolent stranger, and having laid out a moiety of it in material for his trade, he places the remainder within the folds of his turban-cloth, but unluckily a bird snatches it off his head and flies away with it. And in the Talmud there is a story of a poor Hebrew, named Joseph, who paid great respect to the Sabbath. This man had a wealthy neighbour, who was a firm believer in judicial astrology, and having been told by a sagacious professor of the science that all his riches should one day become the property of the Sabbath-observing Joseph, he straightway sold his estate and invested the proceeds in a large diamond, which he secretly sewed within his turban, and departed in a vessel for some distant country—thus preventing, as he fondly imagined, the verification of the astrologer’s prediction. But his precautions were of no avail, for while standing on the deck of the vessel, a sudden gust of wind carried his turban, with all his wealth, into the sea. What became of the ruined man after this misfortune we are not informed. But we are told that, some time after this accident, the pious Joseph went to the market and bought a fish to furnish his table on the Sabbath eve. On opening the fish, the diamond which his old neighbour had lost with his turban was found in its stomach—and thus was the good man’s strict observance of the Sabbath rewarded, and the astrologer’s prediction fulfilled to the letter.
Page [28]. The unlucky Merchant’s adventure with the covetous and dishonest jeweller finds a curious parallel in an incident in the “Story of the Jackal, the Barber, and the Brāhman,” one of the charming fairy tales in Miss Frere’s Old Deccan Days. The poor Brāhman, however, though robbed of the precious stones he offers to the jeweller for sale, escapes home all safe, unlike the Merchant of our story. Possibly the incident in both tales had a common origin;—yet the “roguery of villanous man” (to employ honest Jack Falstaff’s phrase) is pretty much alike in all ages and countries!
Page [29]. “They distributed some money among those who were confined.”—Alms are recommended in many passages of the Kur’ān: “Pay your legal alms,” ii, 43; “alms are to be distributed to the poor and the needy ... for the redemption of captives, insolvent debtors, and, for religion’s sake, unto the traveller,” ix, 53, 60. Alms are of two kinds: (1) obligatory (or zakāt), ii, 172; and (2) voluntary (or sadakāt), as in the present instance. In scripture we find a trace of the same doctrine: see Daniel iv, 27. The Khalif `Omar Ibn `Abdu-’l-`Azīz used to say: “Prayer carries us half-way to God; Fasting brings us to the door of the palace; and Alms procure us admission.” And assuredly no Eastern moralist has more frequently or more impressively and beautifully inculcated the duty of alms-giving and of liberality than Sa`dī. He tells us in the Gulistān, ii, 49, that on the monument of Bahrām Gūr, a famous Persian King, was written: “The liberal hand is better than the strong arm;” and adds: “Distribute in alms the tithe of thy wealth; for the more the husbandman loppeth off the exuberance of the vine, the more it will yield of grapes.” And in his Bustān, or Fruit-Garden, b. ii, he says: “Bestow thy gold and thy wealth while they are thine; for when thou art gone they will be no longer in thy power.... Distribute thy treasure readily to-day, for to-morrow the key may no longer be in thy hand.... Exert thyself to cast a covering over the poor, that God’s own veil may be a covering for thee.”[[45]]
Page [30]. “When he had related the story of the Merchant and of the pearls which they had given him”—the text adds, “and the other five divers had confirmed what he said.”
Page [30]. “He was then led away to execution; and the King caused to be proclaimed throughout the city,” &c. So, too, in the Thousand and One Nights, the Barber relates how his Fourth Brother was punished with a hundred lashes, “after which they mounted him upon a camel, and proclaimed before him: ‘This is the recompense of him who breaketh into men’s houses.’” Morier, in his Second Journey, gives a graphic description of the punishment of Muhammad Zamān Khān, governor of Astrābād, who, in 1814, “entered into a league with the Turkmāns, disavowed the King’s authority, and even made pretensions to the royal power and prerogative.” The King offered a reward for his capture; and the people of Astrābād surrounded the traitor’s palace, forced their way into the room where he was seated, seized and bound him, and carried him before the King. “When he had reached the camp, the King ordered the chief of his camel-artillery to put a mock-crown upon the rebel’s head, armlets on his arms, a sword by his side; to mount him upon an ass, with his face towards the tail and the tail in his hand; then to parade him throughout the camp, and to proclaim: ‘This is he who wished to be King!’ After this was over, and the people had mocked and insulted him, he was brought before the King, who called for the looties and ordered them to turn him into ridicule by making him dance and perform antics against his will. He then ordered that whoever chose might spit in his face. After this he received the bastinado on the soles of his feet, which was administered by the chiefs of his own tribe; and some time after he had his eyes put out.—The strong coincidence,” adds Morier, “between these details and the most awfully affecting part of our own scripture history is a striking illustration of the permanence of Eastern manners.”
Page [30]. “Appointed him keeper of the treasury.”—The sudden elevation of persons from a humble and even distressed condition to places of great dignity and wealth has ever been a characteristic of the absolute monarchs of Eastern countries, as well as the degradation and ruin, frequently from mere caprice, and seldom with any justification, of men of the highest rank. The most remarkable instance of the many which Oriental history presents is the execrable conduct of the Khalif Hārūnu-’r-Rāshīd, so undeservedly celebrated in the Thousand and One Nights, in murdering his principal Vizier Ja`far and utterly ruining the other members of the noble house of Barmak (the Barmecides of our common translation of the Arabian Nights), all of whom were as famed for their unbounded liberality as for their brilliant abilities. An interesting account of the Barmakis and their ruin is given in Dr Jonathan Scott’s Tales, Anecdotes, &c., from the Arabic and Persian.
Page [32]. “Put out the Merchant’s eyes.”—A too common and barbarous punishment in the East. In Turkey a needle was used for this purpose in the case of state prisoners. The Arabian poet-hero `Antar is said to have blinded his implacable and treacherous enemy Wezār by passing a red-hot sword-blade close before his eyes. Years afterwards the blinded chief executed poetical justice by slaying `Antar with a poisoned arrow, which he shot at him on the bank of the Euphrates.
In Cazotte’s version this story is entitled “The Obstinate Man,” perhaps more appropriately than our “Ill-fated Merchant,” since his own wrong-headedness was the main cause of his misfortunes. His place of abode is Bagdād, not Basra. The divers give him ten pearls. The jeweller, having been lately robbed of some pearls, believes Kaskas (such is the man’s name) to be the thief, and accordingly he accuses him; and when the latter is proved to be innocent, the jeweller is punished with two hundred blows of the bastinado. The catastrophe is very differently related: One day he observed in the apartment which had been assigned to him, a door walled-up and concealed by a slight covering of mastic, which was now so much wasted by the effects of time that it crumbled into dust on the slightest touch. Without any exertion of strength, he opened this door and entered unthinkingly into a rich apartment entirely unknown to him, but which he found to be in the interior of the palace. Hardly had he advanced two or three steps when he was perceived by the chief of the eunuchs, who instantly reported what he had seen to the King. The monarch came immediately to the spot. The fragments of the mastic remained upon the ground to show that the door had been forced open, and the stupid amazement of Kaskas completed the appearance of his guilt. “Wretch!” said the King, “dost thou thus repay my favours? My justice saved thee, when I believed thee innocent; now thou art guilty, and I condemn thee to lose thy sight.” The imprudent Kaskas durst not even attempt to justify himself, but was immediately delivered into the hands of the executioner, of whom the only favour he asked was, that he would give him his eyes when he had torn them from their sockets.[[46]] He went groping through the streets of the capital with them in his hands, crying: “Behold, all ye good people who hear me, what the unfortunate Kaskas has gained by striving against the decrees of Destiny, and despising the advice of his friends!”