Chapter XXI

O the bliss of that day, when I shall depart from this desolate
mansion; shall seek rest for my soul, and shall follow the traces
of my beloved!

HAFIZ.

The indisposition of the emperor, and the reports of conspiracies with which the capital was for some days inundated, had the effect of diverting the attention of Selim from the violent determination which he seemed disposed to form, with a view to prevent the completion of Nourmahal’s marriage with Shere-Afkun. The intelligence of her nuptials, and of her departure for Cashmere, came, however, upon him like a thunderbolt. His first impulse was to have them apprehended on their road, and brought back to Agra, let the consequences be what they might. But from this course he was dissuaded by Bochari, who insisted that all his exertions should be directed to the defence of his title to the throne, which was exposed to no common danger; and that any violation, upon his part, of the laws at such a moment, besides turning against him so powerful a chieftain as Afkun, would be certain to render his cause extremely unpopular.

“Wait until you ascend the musnud: the sceptre fixed firmly in your hand, and order restored throughout your dominions, it will, indeed, be singular if means cannot be found for adding to your harem any woman whom you may select in Hindostan.”

Selim listened with impatience to the councils of Bochari, but their discourse was abruptly terminated by a messenger from the emperor, who directed the prince to preside in his place at a cabinet announced to deliberate upon affairs of great urgency. Acbar might, indeed, be said to have already resigned the government into the hands of his son. His strength never for an instant rallied after he received the tidings of Daniel’s ignominious death, and although his intellect remained unobscured to the last moment of his existence, he became every day more indifferent to all those objects of ambition, to the attainment of which the vigour of his youth and manhood, and even the wisdom of his advancing age, had been devoted. The grief that preyed upon his thoughts bade him look at the past as a dream already concluded,--a dream in which victory and defeat were incidents that seemed to be the sport of some power superior to his own. The splendour of the throne had for him no longer any charms; his days were numbered, and even if his health were to be restored, he felt that he could know no more happiness in this world, except as a hermit, retired within the limits of some mountain solitude, where he might unreservedly give up his hours to melancholy contemplation.

Not widely different from this state of apparently irremediable depression, were the feelings of Afkun’s beauteous bride, as she journeyed towards her new home. Her separation from her mother, to whom she was most tenderly attached,--from her father, whom she resembled in mind, with whose every thought, sentiment, preference and antipathy, she so entirely sympathised that they might be said to have had only one soul,--was a sacrifice on all sides, for which no adequate compensation could be expected. Fate, however, had issued her ordinances, and they were irrevocable. Nourmahal parted from each particular rose which she had cultivated, from the favourite plane-tree under which she had so often indulged in a vision,--now, she feared, for ever ended,--as if they were living members of her family. The capital, and its lofty citadel, within which the imperial seraglio and the residences of the royal family were situated,--the public squares filled with busy multitudes,--the mansions of the omrahs surrounded by groves and gardens in perpetual verdure,--the houses of the wealthy merchants, looking like warlike castles rising from the bosom of ancient forests,--and, above all, the Jumna, by whose murmuring waters she had so often pored over the fascinating verses of Oonsuri and Biana, and the history of the queen Rizia, who reigned over Hindostan with so much glory, until she surrendered her heart to the Abyssinian slave, whom she loved too well,--never appeared to Kazim’s daughter so full of attraction as on that painful morning when, for the first time, she beheld them fading gradually from her sight.

Reclining in her covered litter, borne by swift-footed elephants, she would have been more or less than woman if she had not kept her curtain open in the direction of the citadel,--from its elevated situation necessarily the last memorial of Agra upon which her eye could linger. Kazim had often pointed out to her the golden dome, beneath which were the apartments dedicated to the use of prince Selim and his establishment. She doubted not the feelings with which he would receive the intelligence of her marriage, and of her sudden departure from Agra. A secret voice had told her too truly what those feelings would be; nor was she without the suspicion,--the fear,--perhaps the hope,--that before the sun went down that day, her journey might be interrupted in a manner for which her attendants were little prepared. Every group of horsemen that approached the cavalcade from the side of the capital, filled her mind with anxious forebodings, which she dared not communicate even to Kanun; and as each group successively passed away, in various directions, she was obliged to confess to herself a sense of disappointment. When the domes of the citadel were no longer to be seen, and every trace of the great metropolis had vanished in the distance, it was still some consolation to her to gain now and then glimpses of the Jumna through the foliage of the fruit-trees, by which, in the reign of the renowned Shere-Khan, of the Patan race, the road was shaded on either side from the Indus to the Ganges. The ripples sparkling in the sun by day, and silvered at night by the moon-beams, seemed to whisper to her that they would soon pass under the citadel, and that, haply, they might not be unseen by him who now occupied more of her thoughts than her better reason could justify, especially when, during the pauses on the way, Afkun presented himself at her curtain, lavishing upon her all the attentions which a lover could bestow on a mistress whom he idolized.

Little remains now of the great forest of Narwar, in which the Orcha Rajaputs took up their abode in former days. Chased by the arms of Acbar from the populous districts, which they had been long accustomed to plunder, under the pretext of merely exacting from the inhabitants a revenue to which they claimed to be lawfully entitled, they collected in considerable force in those parts of the forest that were least accessible to an enemy. They erected a fortress of no mean strength, to which the whole body retired when threatened by any serious danger; but they dwelt for the most part in temporary huts, which they frequently changed, in order to elude the pursuit of the guards appointed to watch over the safety of travellers on the public roads. Disdaining the service of the emperor, which they had been often invited to enter, they preferred a species of wild independence, in which they could not long have sustained themselves, if they had not continued their system of plunder. Leagued together by relationship, as well as by oaths, which it was death to violate, they carried on warfare against all the rest of mankind. They had their spies in all the great towns, especially in Agra and Delhi, whose office it was to acquire intelligence as to the movements of wealthy merchants and caravans, and to transmit it with the utmost rapidity to the rajah of the band, who took his dispositions accordingly for seizing the prey.

The fortress was always kept well garrisoned. When relief was required, faggots of pine-wood were piled in a cauldron, on the summit of a lofty tower that surmounted the highest trees, and set fire to in the darkest hour of the night. No Orcha Rajaput dared to go to rest at the hour when that signal was usually made, or to hesitate in repairing to the fortress fully armed, before the beacon was extinguished. On other occasions of urgency, their forces were collected by sound of horn--a sound not distinguishable by the unpractised ear from the ordinary call of the shepherds, or swine-herds, to each other, when they wished to meet at night for mutual defence against beasts of prey--but well known by peculiar intonations to the banditti, whom it summoned to those deeds of horror, for which the forest of Narwar was renowned.

Some days after Fazeel’s departure from Agra, a horseman, apparelled as a merchant, joined his escort, and prayed permission to accompany it, announcing that he was bound for Masulipatan, whither he was going to purchase fine muslins. His request being of course complied with, he fell into the ranks, and loudly congratulated himself upon his good fortune in journeying under such safe protection, in a country where so many robberies and murders had been lately perpetrated. He boasted much of his riches, and of the fresh gains he would acquire by his adventure to Masulipatan, and as he was very anxious to avail himself of the escort as far as possible, he inquired carefully as to the route which they were directed to take, and the number of days which they were likely to occupy in the accomplishment of their journey. In the course of conversation he gave it to be understood, that in his earlier days he had dealt in matches, tipped with a peculiar chemical preparation, which was never known to fail of ignition,--unlike those recently introduced into the military service, which were often known to fail at the very moment when the assistance of the fire-arms and artillery became most essential.

The troopers shewed their new acquaintance the sort of matches with which they were furnished, but which, upon inspection, he declared, with an air of authority, to be totally unfit for use. In order to convince them of the infallibility of his judgment in such matters, he begged to be allowed to try a few; when applied to a torch, lighted for the purpose, each turned as black as charcoal, without yielding any sparks. The soldiers thought it lucky that the discovery was made in time, the more particularly as they were now within a few hours of entering on the great forest of Narwar, which was well known to be the haunt of the Orcha Rajaputs.

The question was, how they could now remedy the evil? This the merchant cheerfully promised to do, saying that the efficacy of their matchlocks was as necessary to his own security as to that of the great minister upon whom they attended.

Accordingly, desiring all the matches to be brought to him, when the cavalcade stopped at night on the borders of the forest, he produced from his baggage a box, containing a red composition, a small portion of which he applied to the end of a piece of common wood. The moment he shook it in the air, the wood blazed of itself, to the astonishment even of Fazeel, who witnessed the experiment, and to whom it was thought no improvement in the arts had been unknown. The merchant again attempted to inflame, in the ordinary way, one of the matches which he held in his hand, but, as before, it turned black without emitting any fire. He touched it with his magical preparation, and waved it round his head, when it burst forth in a gush of bright sparkles! He was occupied a great part of the night in furnishing all the matches, which had been served out to the escort, with the composition, of whose value he had exhibited such striking proofs. While he was still at his labour, soon after midnight, one of the officers on guard called his attention to a light that appeared at some distance in the sky, and which the sentinels believed to be the beacon of the banditti, who held possession of the interior of the forest. The officer was about to give the alarm and awaken the whole escort, in order to prepare for the attack, which might now be momentarily expected. But the merchant assured him that the light was nothing more than a meteor of the night, and that, at all events, it could not be the beacon of the Orcha Rajaputs, whose fortress he knew, from having frequently passed that way, to be situated at the opposite side of the forest. The light disappearing, after the lapse of a few minutes, no further notice was taken of the circumstance. The merchant, on returning the matches, directed that they should be carefully preserved from the action of the air until they should be required for use. He then went to sleep on his baggage.

At sunrise the escort were again in motion, and matin prayers having been said, they resumed their journey, preceded by half-a-dozen scouts, who were charged to return, forthwith, in case they should gain any intelligence of the approach of the banditti. The merchant was still asleep when the last trooper was already mounted; upon being called he rose suddenly, and proceeded to put his baggage together, but it seemed, by some means or other, to have got into so much confusion, that before he could arrange it on his palfrey, the escort were out of sight.

They had not advanced far through the forest, when one of the scouts returned with tidings, that he had heard the sound of a horn, which did not strike him to be that either of a hunter or a shepherd. Fazeel directed the escort to be on the alert, and to have the flambeaus lighted. He inquired for the merchant, with whom he wished to have some conversation upon the subject of the matches, as well as upon the manufactures of Masulipatan; for that great man, whose “Ayeen Ackberry” is an imperishable monument of knowledge, never neglected any opportunity of acquiring information which he could render useful to the empire. The merchant was nowhere to be found; “having remained up so long during the night,” said one of the troopers, “he had over-slept himself, and had not yet overtaken the escort.” Fazeel, apprehensive for his safety, ordered the escort to wait until he should come, and, in the meantime, sent two of the scouts to look out for him. They galloped to the place where the escort had halted the previous night, but no trace, either of the merchant or his horse could be discovered.

While the troop was thus waiting, a rustling was heard in the trees, on one side of the road, which was instantly followed by a murderous discharge of fire-arms. The party attacked immediately attempted to return the fire, but upon applying their matches to the flambeau, they became as black as charcoal. In the mean time another volley was poured upon them from the forest, with such unerring aim, that more than half their number was already slain on the spot. The survivors, though astounded by the failure of their matches, prevented from rushing on their foes by the impenetrable nature of the underwood and entangled trees from behind which the fatal guns were pointed at their hearts, and distracted by the slaughter of their comrades, the neighing of the wounded horses, the piercing cries of the baggage-elephants and camels, and the irremediable embarrassments in which they were involved, nevertheless, courageously dismounted, and pressing towards Fazeel, who was already twice wounded, tore away branches from the trees, which they used as matches, and heroically performed their duties to the last moment. But the vollies came thick upon them, soon followed by a numerous band of the Rajaputs, who completed with their scymitars and spears, the dreadful work which the musketeers had left undone. The body of Fazeel was easily distinguished from the lifeless crowd around it, and barbarously hewn into a thousand pieces. The treasure with which the camels and elephants were laden, became, of course, the booty of the savage race, from whose name the infamy of this deed, and of the treacherous means by which it was effected, never can be erased.

The scouts, who had been sent to look for the merchant, were, on their return to their companions, met by a fugitive from the scene of action, who told them that all was lost. They therefore made all possible haste back to Agra, and presenting themselves at the palace, related to the officers in waiting the lamentable issue of Fazeel’s journey to the Deccan. The intelligence was conveyed at first to the prince, who, though he secretly rejoiced at the removal of an obstacle which stood between him and the throne, nevertheless felt that the intelligence ought to be made public in the mode most consistent with the respect that was due to the memory of so important a functionary. The history of the murder was broken by degrees to the emperor, who, already reduced to the last stages of decay, took to himself all the blame of this occurrence, persuaded, that by ordering Fazeel to the Deccan, at an age when that minister was well entitled to retire from public affairs, he had been chiefly instrumental to the catastrophe that had befallen him. The tidings spread a general gloom throughout the capital; surmises were strongly entertained that Selim and his minion, Bochari, were not ignorant of the steps taken by the Orcha Rajaputs, and that the merchant who joined the escort was engaged expressly by Bochari, for the purpose of rendering the matchlocks of the escort useless in their hands.

These surmises reached the ears of Acbar, who solemnly questioned Selim concerning them. The prince indignantly repelled the accusation. Bochari was summoned to the emperor’s presence, and upon being interrogated as to the suspicions so universally directed against him, declared them to be calumnious, and offered to go through any ordeal in order to establish his innocence. The emperor was observed suddenly to rise on his couch, while these inquiries were going on in his presence. Snatching a scymitar from the scabbard of one of the eunuchs at his side, he stood on his feet, and fixing his eyes on Bochari, attempted to move towards him, raising the weapon as if he meant to cleave him to the earth. But in the act his arm was paralyzed; some words which he endeavoured to utter died on his lips, and the soul of him whom his subjects loved as a father, idolized as a hero, and feared as the inflexible administrator of justice, left this world for Paradise.

Bochari immediately falling on his knees saluted Selim as the reigning sovereign of Hindostan; and his example having been followed by the whole court, he mounted his horse, proceeded to the city gates, which he ordered to be shut, and brought back the keys, which he placed in the emperor’s possession. The news soon reached Chusero, who, taking a small canoe, rowed down the river to the house of Man-Singh, where the confederate Omrahs happened to be assembled in council. Fully prepared for the intelligence which he brought, they silenced the apprehensions which he expressed as to the result of their project, and proceeded to discuss the measures which they deemed necessary to be taken forthwith, for securing the accomplishment of their object, before the death of Acbar could become known throughout the capital. The assassination of Selim was proposed and supported by several of the Omrahs; but the prince, though fired with ambition of sovereign power, recoiled from the thought of parricide. “No!” he exclaimed, “my father may enjoy life without a throne; but I can never enjoy a throne stained with a father’s blood. Let the fortune of open war decide between us. Away with the daggers of assassins--to our swords alone let us look for victory!” These generous sentiments having been loudly applauded by an overwhelming majority of the council, they proceeded the same night towards Delhi, where they resolved to proclaim Chusero as emperor.

Selim, who took the name of Jehangire (subduer of the world), mounted the throne the following morning at sunrise. His first act was to give orders for the interment of his father at Secundra, a short distance from Agra; and for the erection there of a mausoleum, which remains to this hour a splendid monument of filial piety. He next commanded the imperial crown to be brought before him, and having placed it on his brow, the great state drum was struck, and the cannons, planted on the walls of the citadel; proclaimed, in their voices of thunder, the commencement of a new reign.

END OF VOLUME I.

TRANSCRIBERS’ NOTES

In this transcription, italicized text from the original print is indicated by _underscores_, and words originally printed in small caps are rendered in full uppercase.

Minor typographical errors such as missing periods, commas used instead of periods, etc. have been silently corrected.

Variations in the spelling of the same word within the text have not been standardized; however, probable printer errors have been changed as follows:

Page 26: “inerest” changed to “interest”: ...for him a peculiar interest.

Page 41: “te” changed to “the”: ...was driven back to the edge of...

Page 71: “multitud” changed to “multitude”: Thus the multitude assembled to see...

Page 115: “epecial” changed to “special”: ...by the special desire of Suleiman...

Page 147: “nesessary” changed to “necessary”: ... necessary even to his own safety...

Page 167: “himelf” changed to “himself”: the tamest for himself and Mangeli...

Page 168: “journies” changed to “journeys”: ...to make long journeys from...

Page 170: “he” changed to “the”: ...within the district of Kabul...

Page 184: “couries” changed to “cowries”: ...to sell for a few cowries to students...

Page 203: “t” changed to “to”: ...did not tend rather to increase...

Page 243: “pourtrayed” changed to “portrayed”: ...had never portrayed an earthly being...

Page 244: “downfal” changed to “downfall”: ...be that of his own downfall.

Page 249: “recal” changed to “recall”: ...endeavouring to recall her to emotion...