NOURMAHAL, An Oriental Romance.

BY MICHAEL J. QUIN,

AUTHOR OF “A STEAM VOYAGE DOWN THE DANUBE,” “A VISIT TO SPAIN,” ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1838.

LONDON: PRINTED BY STEWART AND MURRAY, OLD BAILEY.

CHAPTER I.

Tell him the balmy breath of spring Hath waked from winter sleep The hills and vales;—that on the wing In airy circles sweep The blithesome birds from tree to tree, Sweet minstrels of the grove! Oh! bid him feel their ecstasy, But tell not that I love!

Tell him the primrose now is seen On every bank and brae; That all the fields look gaily green Beneath the cloudless day. Hark! the brooks murmur as they fall, Soft as the turtle-dove! Oh! how these scenes the past recall! But tell not that I love!

2 Tell him that now in every dale, Beneath the hawthorn shade, The shepherd woos, with artless tale, The fond believing maid. All nature smiles, and I alone A sense of sadness prove; Oh! bid him come ere Spring be gone, But tell not that I love!

Story-teller of Cashmere.

It would be vain to deny that the presence of the young prince inspired the gay equestrians, amongst whom he rode towards the fortress of Kebeer, (as old Chunder called the subah’s castle,) with a more than ordinary degree of animation. Besides Nourmahal’s special attendants, or rather companions, for as such she usually treated those whose duty it was to render her personal service, all the ladies of the harem happened to have been out with her upon this occasion. They had expressed an ardent curiosity to see the hermit, concerning whom Kanun had told them every thing she had heard from her mistress—and rather something more, for she, led on by her fertile imagination, ascribed to Zeinedeen many magical attributes to which he made no sort of pretension.

3It was unfortunate for the purpose of his light-hearted visitors, that Nourmahal did not find the sage in a mood in which she could have thought of asking him to admit them to his presence. She had access to his tower under all circumstances, for he felt so deep an interest in her fortunes, that he was never unprepared to receive her, or unwilling to afford her the consolation and advice which the peculiarity of her situation required.

On more than one occasion expressions of almost paternal affection towards her escaped his lips. Kazim’s name, too, he mentioned, as if it had been long familiar to him. To the surprise of Nourmahal, he appeared fully acquainted with the history of her family, from Kazim’s first entrance into the college of Ulug Beg, to his elevation to the highest civil office of the empire. He moreover informed her that both her parents had, by the order of the emperor, set out for Cashmere, but he feared that they were summoned to the emperor’s presence for no good purpose. He suspected that Bochari intended to use them as instruments for promoting his design, in some way or other, to obtain possession of prince Chusero.

4This intelligence was at once the source of joy and alarm to the mind of Nourmahal. Scarcely any event could have been more delightful to her, than the arrival in Cashmere of those whom she loved with all the tenderness of the only affection, that never in her bosom was mingled with pain. But the dimly shadowed suspicions of Zeinedeen filled her with anticipations of evil, which the immediate approach of the imperial troops was by no means calculated to diminish.

It happened, that while Nourmahal was with the hermit, breathing all her anxiety upon this subject, three foreign, and very remarkable-looking persons were admitted into his chamber, with whom he at once entered into discussions that seemed to have been going on for some days, as topics were frequently alluded to, on which Zeinedeen and the strangers appeared to have already agreed. The latter spoke in the Persian language, with an accent novel to the ear of Nourmahal, but with an elegance of idiom which, combined with the extraordinary statements they made, won her for the moment from her own thoughts.

The strangers had the crowns of their heads 5 closely shaved, a wreath of hair being still preserved, which, broken only over the forehead, fell gracefully towards the back and shoulders. Upon the eldest of the three, who was named Aquaviva, the lapse of more than seventy years appeared to have left few traces beyond the silvery lustre of his locks. Monserrate and Euriquez, his companions, were much younger. Their countenances, of the noble European mould, and browned by the sun of Hindostan, through which they had recently travelled, exhibited a degree of lofty resolution, and, at the same time, of angelic sweetness, which at once fixed Nourmahal’s attention. They were arrayed in long flowing garbs of white camlet, cinctured at the waist by black woollen cords, from which depended beads of an ebony colour, having attached to them silver medals impressed with the portrait of a saint, whom they called the Virgin, and crucifixes of the same material, bearing the outstretched figure of a divine sufferer, whom they styled the Messiah. When they

first entered the hermit’s chamber their heads were enveloped in cowls, which they drew back upon their mantles in making their obeisance. Their feet were sandalled.

6Zeinedeen was not unwilling that Nourmahal should hear the tidings these interesting strangers came to announce. They spoke of a land that once flowed with milk and honey, and contained a people the peculiar favourites of the High God, amongst whom this Messiah was born—amongst whom he spent his life—teaching them doctrines of the most sublime description. But while he was yet an infant they sought his death, and not being able to discover him, they slew innocents without number, filling their beauteous cities with mourning, in order that he should not escape their unprovoked vengeance. To his words, when he grew up, they would not listen; and when wonders, such as earth had never witnessed before—a voice from the skies—the leper suddenly cleansed—the incurable restored to health—the dead to life—doctrines which no mind merely human could have conceived, bore in letters of light, testimony to his origin and his mission—the very people who ought to have been the first to love and worship him, condemned him to crucifixion!

Nourmahal’s heart wept as Aquaviva unfolded the history of the Holy One represented on his 7 beads. She expressed a strong desire to learn more upon the subject, but the advancing day, and the recollection that the ladies of the harem were waiting below, prevented her from prolonging her visit.

That group of fair equestrians, take them all in all, when joined by Nourmahal, formed as lovely a cavalcade as the eye of a warrior could desire to rest upon. Some three or four were originally captives, who had become the property of Afkun by right of war, during the civil contests which had taken place in Cashmere. Others he had purchased from the masters of caravans passing through the country, with a view to protect them from the tyranny of their owners, of whose conduct towards them they had but too much reason to complain. They were almost all Georgian or Mingrelian females, scarcely inferior to those of Circassia in gracefulness of figure, or purity of complexion, and more than equal to them in liveliness of temper and quickness of intelligence.

The single passion by which the heart of the subah was engrossed, left him but a slight fund of affection for the secondary ornaments of his establishment. It was a necessary part of his 8 state, as viceroy, to have his harem filled with bright-eyed damsels. To a generous soul like his, it was no small gratification to have the means of affording a safe and agreeable home to females, whose exposure to vicissitude and suffering became only more imminent, in proportion to the beauty by which they were distinguished.

Amongst all his cares and griefs, Afkun never forgot what was due to the happiness even of the lowliest of those inmates of his household. He cherished them for their very dependence upon him. All that he knew of love,—the deepest, the tenderest, that ever fired the pulse of man,—he consecrated to Nourmahal. He gave it the more, the more he was forsaken; for hope still lent a gleam of sunshine even to his visions of despair. But, at the same time, he continued uniformly to discharge, with the utmost delicacy and kindness, his duties towards all those who were under his protection. They felt and returned his beneficence. They beheld, without jealousy, the unequivocal homage which he paid to his principal consort; they even sympathized in those sufferings which his heart silently sustained; 9 and their only rivalry with each other was to see who should best succeed, by gaiety of manner, by composition of new airs or dances, or dramatic amusements, to beguile him of that despondency to which his noble spirit seemed a predestined victim.

Nevertheless, as they rode along,—so natural is coquetry to the sex,—they were not insensible, as many a side-glance and playful smile could tell, to the martial bearing of the young prince, who now commanded their escort. Some pitied him for his misfortunes; some could not help admiring him for the reports they had heard of his valour; others thought it but right to yield him the allegiance of their hearts, as the person best entitled, in the subah’s opinion, to the crown of Hindostan. For some reason or other, or no reason at all, the language of admiration was eloquent in every eye. Girths never before had such a propensity to loosen, or whips to fall, or ponies, hitherto as quiet as the caged dove, to discharge themselves of their tremulous burthens. It was the prerogative of the prince to compose their alarms; his highness had abundant work on his hands, 10 to pay, on all sides, the attentions which the exigencies of each moment demanded.

Afkun, riding by the side of Nourmahal, could well afford to smile at these little accidents. Although she appeared more than usually reserved, (the intelligence about her beloved parents,—the tidings of the strange dervishes,—the unexpected meeting with the emperor, might well have made her so,) still for Afkun it was enough to know that he was so near to the star of his existence. There was something even in the checked pacing of his proud Arabian, moving step for step with her favourite palfrey, which afforded him pleasure. He spoke cheerfully of the strong defences of the castle, which he pointed out to Nourmahal as they approached that fortress. He showed her that its heights were domineered by no others within the reach of the most powerful artillery; that no hostile force could attempt to cross the moat by which it was surrounded, without being exposed to instant destruction, and that the idea of scaling the mural precipices which ascended from the moat to the citadel would be insanity, even if all other difficulties had been overcome. What pangs would not have rent the

bosom of 11 that animated soldier, had he known how lightly his observations fell upon the heart to which they were addressed, and that other words, of more than magic power, were still breathing round it a music that turned all other sounds adrift upon the empty air!

Behind Nourmahal, however, rode a maid,—that pale Circassian,—for whom no look, no word that escaped the subah was ever lost, when she was within its influence. Nothing, perhaps, would have surprised Kanun so much as to be told by some lynx-eyed observer of her conduct, that however contented she felt in the presence of her mistress, to whom she was affectionately attached, she might have been said to live only when breathing the same atmosphere with Afkun. He was indeed the sun in whose rays her lilied countenance unfolded all its natural charms. But, ah! that sun, she often thought to herself, was so far above her reach, that beyond the delight of contemplating it often from her humble station, she conceived no hope.

The subah never had the slightest cause for suspecting this tender and silent love. As the handmaid of her to whom he was so utterly 12 devoted, she was always pleasing in his sight. So was any tree or plant which Nourmahal preferred. So was any bird she fed from her own hand, or any prospect of the scene around, which she thought particularly beautiful. He could not indeed but have observed the diligence with which Kanun always arranged his toilet, placing in the vases of his cabinet those flowers which she knew he liked best, because they were favourites of Nourmahal, and preparing for his use napkins fringed by her own skill with gold, and perfumed with the most grateful essences. All these attentions he marked with delight, because he hoped that they were suggested by Nourmahal. It never occurred to him that they might have emanated from any other source.

Kanun believed it to be her province, to busy herself as much as possible in every thing of a domestic nature that related to the subah. She kept the keys of his ward-robe—was always the first to enter his cabinet after he quitted it—often rested her head, and gave free scope to sighs, to tears, on the cushion still warm with his breath after his noon-tide slumber. She suffered no hand but her own to gather up the 13 fine linen he had just left off. It exhaled a fragrance that revived the fading bloom of her heart. But, affected as she was by all these symptoms of an unchangeable, adoring, passion, she dared not to confess even to her most secret reflections, that existence would for her have no value, if Afkun were no more.

Nobody who had beheld that gay and gallant cavalcade crossing the drawbridge of the castle, would have supposed that they were entering a species of prison, in which, according to all probability, they were likely to be strictly enclosed for months to come. With the exception of the viceroy and his consort, all looked as cheerful as the open day. The prince, full of the ardour of youth, entered into the playful sallies of his fair companions, with unrestrained glee, carefully preserving himself, however, within the limits of that decorous familiarity, which, as a guest of the subah, it was incumbent upon him not to violate. The least transgression, in this respect, would have at once solved every bond between them. Omrah, prince, or emperor, whatever the rank, or power, of the man, received within the door, be to him sacred the treasures of the harem, or his blood 14 must answer for it. Upon this point our laws, our feelings of honour, know no exception or indulgence. The harem we defend at the peril of all things,—wealth, station, glory, life, a

thousand lives if we possessed them.

CHAPTER II.

Oh! that I were a shepherd boy, Upon some green hill side; Fair flocks and herds my only joy, A pipe my only pride! Then far from war and thee I’d stray In search of peace alone, Courting the shade the live-long day, Unknowing and unknown.

The birds that with sweet rapture greet The morn, my mates would be; And ocean murmuring at my feet, Would lend its minstrelsy To soothe the anguish of this breast, That once lived on thy smile, Nor feared, while in its sunshine blest, ’Twas meant but to beguile!

But no,—I ne’er shall thee accuse, Thy heart no falsehood stains: ’Twas Fancy gave thy cheek those hues, That held my soul in chains. 16 Forget thy vow—the heaven I felt, Believing thou wert mine; And think the valley where we knelt, A visionary shrine!

Story-teller of Cashmere.

The drawbridge being passed by the whole party, was, on the instant, raised by the warders of the castle, one of whom stated to Afkun, in a low voice, that not only the van-guards, but the imperial troops, had been just seen from the watch-tower, descending the mountains, and approaching rapidly towards the capital.

“Oh! thanks to Allah!” exclaimed Nourmahal, who over-heard the communication.

The warder looked no less astonished than the subah, who controlled his feelings, however, until having alighted, he assisted his consort to dismount, and conducted her to her chamber.

“What am I to understand, Nourmahal, from these words you have just uttered?”

“That I am transported with the hope of soon again beholding my beloved parents!”

Afkun had not seen Nourmahal betray so much emotion, since the morning she quitted Agra. He could not comprehend it. It came 17 upon him as if a thunder-cloud broke upon his head.

“Yes, Afkun—my parents—your friends—they are, or will speedily be with the army. Zeinedeen has informed me so; and may Allah grant that my father’s presence, his unfailing wisdom, his just influence with both the contending parties, may bring these dire contests to a peaceable issue!”

“I was not prepared for this. The high chancellor, Kazim;—he, indeed, whom I have never ceased to love—he, Nourmahal, who placed this hand in mine—if any power on earth can subdue the malice of Bochari—can extinguish that torch which has set the empire in conflagration—it must be Kazim.”

“Wonder then no longer, Afkun, at my feelings of joy.”

“I share them with you; nothing could happen which would afford me much greater happiness than to receive within our gates those two beloved sources of your existence, by you scarcely more beloved than by me.”

Nourmahal, in the flush of happiness that lightened in her countenance, thanked her husband with one of those heavenly smiles, for 18 which, were it his to bestow, he would have given the empire of the world.

“Oh! cherished one,” he exclaimed, folding his arm round her waist, and looking in fixed rapture upon her glowing cheek—“Oh! Nourmahal—should it be Kazim’s fortune, by his sage counsels to terminate this war, consistently with the just rights of the prince, and the interests of the empire—say that we shall retire from these turmoils of lofty station, and take up our abode in some solitude, where we shall thenceforth live only for each other! Promise me but this—and for myself I shall demand no other terms.”

“My hand is yours, Afkun. You know who it was that surrendered it to your care. Never—I truly believe—never was a wife more beloved than I have been—than I am!—beloved much—far beyond my deserts”——

“That, Nourmahal, were impossible.”

“You have often—too often,” she added, turning away her eyes, “felt the insensibility with which I have met your affection—that affection ever to me the same—ever generous—ever ardent. Forgive, Afkun, these tears—they 19 rush from all the fountains of my soul”——

“They are natural—sacred. The hope of seeing again, and soon, those whom we both so truly love”——

“Would that that were the only cause!”

“You feel no alarm for the safety of the high chancellor?”

“None—no—no. Oh, these unbidden witnesses!—they will reveal all!” exclaimed Nourmahal, endeavouring to check the tears that flooded her cheek.

Afkun trembled, fearful that some dreadful disclosure was coming. He led Nourmahal to the divan; sitting by her, he took her hand in his, and repeatedly kissing it, besought her to be comforted.

“Alas! speak not thus to me—no kind word passes your lips that is not a barbed arrow to my soul.”

“I have no suspicions, Nourmahal, of your honour—but if”——

“Say it at once—if you thought me false to you”——

“Ah, if that calamity be mine, Afkun has no further occupation in this world!”

20 “You would plunge your knife here?”

“Allah be my witness that I would freely pour out all my blood for you—be your guilt what it may!”

“Had you tendered me the poisoned bowl, I could now drain it to the dregs!”

“Oh! why did I not perish at Lahore? Why on the battle-field was there no sepulchre for me?”

“It is I—it is I—that should not have seen this day!”