The Royal Merchant.
CHAPTER I.
“Boy,” said Sam to his son Eiz-ood-Deen, “I’m sadly tired of this banishment. One’s own country, after all, is the only paradise upon earth, and to be exiled from it is a sad penalty to a patriotic heart.”
“But,” replied the son, “you entered this land of strangers under poverty and bereavement; you have here raised yourself to distinction and wealth; your adopted country has been more favourable to you than your fatherland; why, therefore, should you seek to quit these hospitable shores for those from which you were once spurned a beggar and an outcast?”
“Because the yearnings of nature are too strong to be resisted. Besides, there I am known to belong to the blood of her kings; here I am looked upon as a mere trafficker in merchandise, upon which, indeed, I have grown rich, but in a manner that ill becomes the offspring of royalty.”
“I have been too long accustomed to consider this as my native land to desire to seek another home; but the desires of the son ought to yield to those of the father: I am, therefore, content to quit it whenever you may deem it fitting.”
The merchant Sam was, in truth, son of the king of Ghoor, a mountainous region, which finally became tributary to Ghizny, and had been obliged to fly from his country on the death of his father, who, while attacking a fort, was killed by an arrow, which entered his eye. The son fled into India, and finally settled atSurat, a city or considerable commercial importance, about twelve coss from the sea. Being of an enterprising turn of mind, he assumed the business of a merchant, and, in the course of a few years of successful traffic, became a man of great wealth.
Although he found few Mahomedans at Surat, there were a number of old Parsee families, who had fixed their abode in a certain quarter of the city. With these he freely associated, as they were not so backward in holding social intercourse with strangers as the native inhabitants, among whom the exclusive prejudices of caste were maintained generally with extreme rigour. The Parsees being a mercantile people, the royal merchant found that they very much advanced the success of his ventures, and with them, therefore, he dwelt upon terms of mutual good-fellowship. Having, however, reaped the full harvest of his industry, he was anxious to return to that exaltation in his native land which he had forfeited by his flight, especially now that he possessed the means of maintaining a dignity which his ambition rendered him eager to enjoy. His son, though he yielded to the wishes of his father, had other views. When he had left his native mountains, he was too young to retain any endearing impressions of home or of country; he, therefore, felt no desire to quit a spot which was endeared to him by other ties than those of a long residence.
Eiz-ood-Deen was in the habit of visiting the family of a Parsee who had an only daughter, a beautiful girl in her thirteenth year. She was the pride of her father, and he watched over her with a vigilance only equalled by his fondness, being anxious to keep her from the view of suitors, as he had betrothed her to the son of a wealthy Parsee merchant in Bombay, to whom she was shortly to be married. It happened that she felt an invincible repugnance to the young man to whom she was betrothed, but had never dared to express this repugnance to her father, knowing the extreme severity of his resentments when his purposes were crossed, and being well assured that even his parental affection would give way before the fierceness of his anger, if she should dare to rebel against his authority.
She had frequently observed Eiz ood-Deen, when he called upon her parent, through the venetians of her window that overlookedthe street, but which she had never ventured to raise. She was much struck with the easy elegance of his person, and the lively intelligence of his countenance, which had a sprightliness and characteristic amenity of expression far more attractive than mere exclusive beauty. He was in his nineteenth year, vigorous and well formed, and altogether an interesting rather than a handsome person. She could not help contrasting him with the object of her father’s choice, who was a short fat youth, with an ungainly countenance, and pitted with the small-pox.
The sight of the Mahomedan rendered her more than ever averse to the Parsee, and she soon became silent and desponding. Her father perceived the change, but could not draw from her the cause of her depression. He never, for a moment, imagined that it could arise from any antipathy to the object of his choice for her, because he was firmly persuaded that she had no choice in the matter, his fiat being the rule of her will. He was uneasy, however, at the change, as his affection for her was surpassed only by his desire to see her the wife of a wealthy husband, which she would have in the son of his friend, the Bombay merchant.
Eiz-ood-Deen had heard much of the beauty of the Parsee’s daughter, but had been in the habit of visiting at his house for the best part of a year without having once seen her. She, however, had indulged herself, by seeing him enter and quit the house almost daily for several months, and the first favourable impression which his person made upon her in no degree subsided; so far from it, that she felt for the first time the two extreme passions of love and hate glowing in her bosom at the same moment—love towards the Mahomedan, and hatred towards the Parsee. She frequently pondered upon the misery of her lot, in being doomed to wed a man whom she loathed, and debarred, by the difference of creeds, from marrying one with whom she fancied she could realize her fairest dreams of happiness. She became at length so excited by anxiety, that she determined to brave all hazards, and, in defiance of her father’s anger, reveal her passion to the object of her love. It was some time before a safe opportunity occurred.
One morning her parent was suddenly called from home, and, to her joy, Eiz-ood-Deen appeared in the court. She raised thevenetians as he approached the door, and exposing her young glowing countenance, upon which the blush mantled like the opening tint of the vernal rose, told him her father was not within. He stopped a moment to gaze upon her, but overcome with the novelty of the act she had committed, she withdrew her head, and dropped the venetian frame. The Mahomedan was riveted to the spot. He was so overcome by astonishment at the unexpected sight of so much beauty, that he had not the presence of mind to utter a word. At length the sudden impulse of surprise subsided, and he recovered his self-possession. As her apartment faced the court which was seen from the street, he knew it would expose the lovely girl to the worst suspicions if he remained under the window; he therefore entered the house, as if ignorant that the Parsee was from home. He here encountered an old woman who, as he soon ascertained, was an attendant upon the young mistress of the mansion. She was a low-caste Hindoo, and, knowing the sordidness of the class to which she belonged, he had no difficulty in bribing her to bring him into the presence of her young mistress. They met on that very morning. Vows of perpetual love were interchanged, and the beautiful girl agreed to fly with him to his native country, in order to avoid a union against which her heart revolted.
Interviews were from this time almost daily contrived between the lovers by the old woman who watched for them, who would have hazarded her soul for gold; it was this only that kept her faithful, but her fidelity was known by those who purchased it to be held by so slippery a tenure that they were both anxious to be beyond the influence of treachery.
“My father,” said Eiz-ood-Deen one evening, “when are we to quit this land of the stranger?”
“Why, my son, I thought thou didst not seem inclined to quit it; therefore, on thy account, I dismissed it from my thoughts.”
“Nay, my sire, a parent’s wish is law to a dutiful son, and I trust you have never found me so wanting in filial obligation as to oppose, even by a thought, the desire of one to whom I owe not only my being, but the blessings of a happy life.”
“Well, my son, I have long been prepared to visit the land ofmy fathers, and, if you concur, we’ll take ship at the full of the present moon, when we shall enjoy the blessing of heaven’s light by night as well as by day.”
Everything was immediately prepared for their departure, and Eiz-ood-Deen congratulated himself that the lovely Parsee would be the happy companion of his voyage. That night his thoughts were so full of joy that he could not sleep. He lay pondering upon the bliss which appeared to be in store for him. He was the only child of a parent, no less indulgent than wealthy, and beloved by a beautiful girl, with whom he anticipated that he should pass a life of unmixed enjoyment: but alas! how seldom are the soberest expectations realized! Disappointment almost invariably follows the glowing dreams of enthusiasm.
The next day he repaired to the Parsee’s house; the door was closed upon him. He saw no one but a menial, who told him that his master was desirous he should never more project his shadow over his threshold.
“What is the meaning of all this?” inquired Eiz-ood-Deen, with a beating heart and quivering lip.
“Think a moment,” replied the man, “and you will be at no loss to guess.”
This was an unexpected shock. He sickened as he thought upon the melancholy consequences that might arise to the object of his fondest affections, and quitted the house with a sad presentiment of mischief. It was clear they had been betrayed. The old woman no doubt, in the hope of reaping a richer harvest, had revealed their visits to the inexorable parent, and the consequences of his anger would no doubt be extreme.
During the whole of that day he could obtain no tidings of the Parsee’s daughter. Many dark hints were thrown out by some of his tribe, whom Eiz-ood-Deen knew, which led him to apprehend some fearful consequence, but he could ascertain nothing positive. He returned to his father’s house. The worthy merchant was surprised to see the gloom with which his son’s countenance was overcast, and inquired the cause; but an evasive reply silenced his questions, though it did not hush his suspicions.
The following morning Eiz-ood-Deen was walking beyond thesuburbs of Surat, and bent his steps towards the cemetery of the Parsees. It was a circular inclosure, protected by a wall about four feet high. Within was a deep vault, covered by an iron grating, upon the top of which the bodies of the dead were placed, and there left to corrupt, the bones finally falling into the receptacle below, whence they were removed at certain periods, and cast into the sea. Reaching the wall, he sat on it, in order to rest himself or to give free scope to the sadness of his thoughts in the immediate vicinity of so solemn a spot. Looking towards the grating, he saw a body which had been that morning placed upon it. Urged by an irresistible impulse, he leaped into the inclosure, and approaching the vault, was horror-struck at beholding the disfigured corpse of the Parsee’s daughter.