Observations on the Mussulmauns of India

LETTER XVII

Seclu­sion of Fe­males.--Paad­shah Be­gum.--The Suwaar­ree.--Fe­male Bear­ers.--Eu­nuchs.--Rutts.--Par­tial­ity of the Ladies to Large ret­inues.--Fe­male Com­pan­ions.--Telling the Khau­nie.--Games of the Zeenah­nah.--Sham­poo­ing.--The Punkah.--Slaves and slav­ery.--Anec­dote.--The Per­sian Po­ets.--Fier­dowsee.--Saadie, his 'Goolis­taun'.--Haafiz.--Mahu­mud Baarkur.--'Hyaa­tool Kaaloob'.--Dif­fer­ent man­ner of pro­nounc­ing Scrip­ture names...Page 248

The strict seclu­sion which forms so con­spic­uous a fea­ture in the fe­male so­ci­ety of the Mus­sul­mauns in In­dia, ren­ders the tem­po­rary mi­gra­tion of ladies from their domi­cile an event of great in­ter­est to each in­di­vid­ual of the zeenah­nah, whether the mis­tress or her many de­pen­dants be con­sid­ered.

The su­pe­ri­or class­es sel­dom quit their habi­ta­tion but on the most im­por­tant oc­ca­sions; they, there­fore, make it a mat­ter of ne­ces­si­ty to move out in such style as is most like­ly to pro­claim their ex­alt­ed sta­tion in life. I can­not, per­haps, ex­plain this part of my sub­ject bet­ter than by giv­ing a brief de­scrip­tion of the suwaar­ree[1] (trav­el­ling ret­inue) of the Paad­shah Be­gum[2] which passed my house at Luc­know on the oc­ca­sion of her vis­it to the Dur­gah of Huzerut Abas Ali Kee, af­ter sev­er­al years strict­ly con­fin­ing her­self to the palace.

By Paad­shah is meant 'King';--Be­gum, 'La­dy.' The first wife of the King is dis­tin­guished by this ti­tle from ev­ery oth­er he may have mar­ried; it is equiv­alent to that of 'Queen' in oth­er coun­tries. With this ti­tle the Paad­shah Be­gum en­joys al­so many oth­er marks of roy­al dis­tinc­tion; as, for in­stance, the dunkah (ket­tle-​drums) pre­ced­ing her suwaar­ree; a priv­ilege, I be­lieve, nev­er al­lowed by the King to any oth­er fe­male of his fam­ily. The em­broi­dered chat­tah (um­brel­la); the af­thaadah (em­broi­dered sun); and chowries of the pea­cock's feath­ers, are al­so out-​of-​door dis­tinc­tions al­lowed on­ly to this la­dy and the mem­bers of the roy­al fam­ily. But to my de­scrip­tion:--

First, in the Paad­shah Be­gum's suwaar­ree I ob­served a guard of cav­al­ry sol­diers in full dress, with their colours un­furled; these were fol­lowed by two bat­tal­ions of in­fantry, with their bands of mu­sic and colours. A com­pa­ny of spear­men on foot, in neat white dress­es and tur­bans, their spears of sil­ver, rich and mas­sive. Thir­ty-​six men in white dress­es and tur­bans, each hav­ing a small tri­an­gu­lar flag of crim­son silk, on which were em­broi­dered the roy­al arms (two fish and a dirk of a pe­cu­liar shape). The staffs of these flags are of sil­ver, about three feet long; in the low­er part of the han­dle a small bay­onet is se­cret­ed, which can be pro­duced at will by pres­sure on a se­cret spring. Next fol­lowed a full band of mu­sic, drums, fifes, &c.; then the im­por­tant dunkah, which an­nounces to the pub­lic the la­dy's rank: she is en­closed with­in the el­evat­ed tow­er­ing chun­dole, on each side of which the af­thaadah and chowries are car­ried by well-​dressed men, gen­er­al­ly con­fi­den­tial ser­vants, ap­point­ed to this ser­vice.

The chun­dole is a con­veyance re­sem­bling a palan­keen, but much larg­er and more lofty; it is, in fact, a small sil­ver room, six feet long, five broad, and four feet high, sup­port­ed by the aid of four sil­ver poles on the shoul­ders of twen­ty bear­ers. These bear­ers are re­lieved ev­ery quar­ter of a mile by a sec­ond set in at­ten­dance: the two sets change al­ter­nate­ly to the end of the jour­ney. The bear­ers are dressed in a hand­some roy­al liv­ery of white cal­ico made to sit close to the per­son; over which are worn scar­let loose coats of fine En­glish broad-​cloth, edged and bor­dered with gold em­broi­dery: on the back of the coat a fish is em­broi­dered in gold. Their tur­bans cor­re­spond in colour with the coats; on the front of the tur­ban is fixed di­ag­onal­ly a fish of wrought gold, to the tail of which a rich gold tas­sel is at­tached; this read­ies to the shoul­der of the bear­er, and gives a re­mark­able air of grandeur to the per­son.

The chun­dole is sur­round­ed by very pow­er­ful wom­en bear­ers, whose busi­ness it is to con­vey the ve­hi­cle with­in the com­pound (court-​yard) of the pri­vate apart­ments, or wher­ev­er men are not ad­mit­ted at the same time with fe­males. Chob­dhaars and soo­ta-​bad­haars walk near the chun­dole car­ry­ing gold and sil­ver staffs or wands, and vo­cif­er­at­ing the rank and hon­ours of the la­dy they at­tend with loud voic­es the whole way to and from the Dur­gah. These men like­wise keep off the crowds of beg­gars at­tract­ed on such oc­ca­sions by the known lib­er­al­ity of the ladies, who, ac­cord­ing to es­tab­lished cus­tom, make dis­tri­bu­tions to a large amount, which are scat­tered amongst the pop­ulace by sev­er­al of the Queen's eu­nuchs, who walk near the chun­dole for that pur­pose.

The chief of the eu­nuchs fol­lowed the Queen's chun­dole on an ele­phant, seat­ed in a gold how­dah; the trap­pings of which were of vel­vet, rich­ly em­broi­dered in gold; the eu­nuch very el­egant­ly dressed in a suit of gold-​cloth, a bril­liant tur­ban, and at­tired in ex­pen­sive shawls. Af­ter the eu­nuch, fol­low the Paad­shah Be­gum's ladies of qual­ity, in cov­ered palan­keens, each tak­ing prece­dence ac­cord­ing to the sta­tion or the favour she may en­joy; they are well guard­ed by sol­diers, spear­men, and chob­dhaars. Next in the train, fol­low the sev­er­al of­fi­cers of the Queen's house­hold, on ele­phants, rich­ly ca­parisoned. And, last­ly, the wom­en of in­fe­ri­or rank and fe­male slaves, in rutts (cov­ered car­riages) such as are in gen­er­al use through­out In­dia. These rutts are drawn by bul­locks, hav­ing bells of a small size strung round their neck, which as they move have a nov­el and not un­pleas­ing sound, from the va­ri­ety of tones pro­duced. The rutt is a broad-​wheeled car­riage, the body and roof form­ing two cones, one small­er than the oth­er, cov­ered with scar­let cloth, edged, fringed, and bor­dered with gold or am­ber silk trim­mings. The per­sons rid­ing in rutts are seat­ed on cush­ions placed flat on the sur­face of the car­riage (the Asi­at­ic style of sit­ting at all times) and not on raised seats, the usu­al cus­tom in Eu­rope. The en­trance to these rutts is from the front, like the tilt­ed carts of Eng­land, where a thick cur­tain of cor­re­spond­ing colour and ma­te­ri­al con­ceals the in­mates from the pub­lic gaze; a small space is left be­tween this cur­tain and the driv­er, where one or two wom­en ser­vants are seat­ed as guards, who are priv­ileged by age and ug­li­ness to in­dulge in the lib­er­ty of see­ing the pass­ing gai­ety, and of en­joy­ing, with­out a screen, the pure air; ben­efits which their su­pe­ri­ors in rank are ex­clud­ed from at all ages.

In the Paad­shah Be­gum's suwaar­ree, I count­ed fifty of these Na­tive car­riages, in­to each of which from four to six fe­males are usu­al­ly crowd­ed, com­pris­ing the mem­bers of the house­hold es­tab­lish­ment of the great la­dy; such as com­pan­ions, read­ers of the Kho­raum, kaawaus­es[3] (the high­er class­es of fe­male-​slaves), mug­galanie[4] (nee­dle-​wom­en), &c. This will give you a tol­er­able idea of the num­ber and va­ri­ety of fe­males at­tached to the suite of a la­dy of con­se­quence in In­dia. The pro­ces­sion, at a walk­ing pace, oc­cu­pied near­ly half an hour in pass­ing the road op­po­site to my house: it was well con­duct­ed, and the ef­fect im­pos­ing, both from its nov­el­ty and splen­dour.

A la­dy here would be the most un­hap­py crea­ture ex­ist­ing, un­less sur­round­ed by a mul­ti­tude of at­ten­dants suit­able to her rank in life. They have of­ten ex­pressed sur­prise and as­ton­ish­ment at my want of taste in keep­ing on­ly two wom­en ser­vants in my em­ploy, and hav­ing nei­ther a com­pan­ion nor a slave in my whole es­tab­lish­ment; they can­not imag­ine any­thing so stupid as my pref­er­ence to a qui­et study, rather than the con­stant bus­tle of a well-​filled zeenah­nah.

Many of the Mus­sul­maun ladies en­ter­tain wom­en com­pan­ions, whose chief busi­ness is to tell sto­ries and fa­bles to their em­ploy­er, while she is com­pos­ing her­self to sleep; many of their tales par­take of the ro­man­tic cast which char­ac­ter­izes the well-​re­mem­bered 'Ara­bi­an Nights' En­ter­tain­ments', one sto­ry beget­ting an­oth­er to the end of the col­lec­tion. When the la­dy is fair­ly asleep the sto­ry is stayed, and the com­pan­ion re­sumes her em­ploy­ment when the next nap is sought by her mis­tress.

Amongst the high­er class­es the males al­so in­dulge in the same prac­tice of be­ing talked to sleep by their men slaves; and it is a cer­tain in­tro­duc­tion with ei­ther sex to the favour of their em­ploy­er, when one of these de­pen­dants has ac­quired the hap­py art of 'telling the khau­nie'[5] (fa­ble) with an agree­able voice and man­ner. The more they em­bel­lish a tale by flights of their ver­sa­tile imag­ina­tions, so much greater the mer­it of the re­hears­er in the opin­ion of the lis­ten­ers.

The in­mates of zeenah­nahs oc­ca­sion­al­ly in­dulge in games of chance: their dice are called chowsah (four sides), or chuh­sah[6] (six sides); these dice are about four inch­es long and half an inch thick on ev­ery side, num­bered much in the same way as the Eu­ro­pean dice. They are thrown by the hand, not from box­es, and fall length­ways.

They have many dif­fer­ent games which I nev­er learned, dis­lik­ing such modes of tri­fling away valu­able time; I am not, there­fore, pre­pared to de­scribe them ac­cu­rate­ly. One of their games has a re­sem­blance to draughts, and is played on a che­quered cloth car­pet, with red and white ivory cones.[7] They have al­so cir­cu­lar cards, six suits to a pack, very neat­ly paint­ed, with which they play many (to me) in­de­scrib­able games; but of­ten­er, to their cred­it be it said, for amuse­ment than for gain. The gen­tle­men, how­ev­er, are not al­ways equal­ly dis­in­ter­est­ed; they fre­quent­ly play for large sums of mon­ey. I do not, how­ev­er, find the habit so gen­er­al with the Na­tives as it is with Eu­ro­peans. The re­li­gious com­mu­ni­ty deem all games of chance un­holy, and there­fore in­com­pat­ible with their mode of liv­ing. I am not aware that gam­ing is pro­hib­it­ed by their law in a di­rect way,[8] but all prac­tices tend­ing to cov­etous­ness are strict­ly for­bid­den; and, sure­ly, those who can touch the mon­ey called 'win­nings' at any game, must be more or less ex­posed to the ac­cu­sa­tion of de­sir­ing oth­er men's goods.

Sham­poo­ing has been so of­ten de­scribed as to leave lit­tle by way of nov­el­ty for me to re­mark on the sub­ject; it is a gen­er­al in­dul­gence with all class­es in In­dia, what­ev­er may be their age or cir­cum­stances. The com­fort de­rived from the pres­sure of the hands on the limbs, by a clever sham­poo­er, is alone to be es­ti­mat­ed by those who have ex­pe­ri­enced the ben­efits de­rived from this lux­uri­ous habit, in a cli­mate where such in­dul­gences are need­ed to as­sist in cre­at­ing a free cir­cu­la­tion of the blood, which is very sel­dom in­duced by ex­er­cise as in more North­ern lat­itudes. Per­sons of rank are sham­pooed by their slaves dur­ing the hours of sleep, whether it be by day or by night; if through any ac­ci­den­tal cir­cum­stance the pres­sure is dis­con­tin­ued, even for a few sec­onds on­ly, the sleep is im­me­di­ate­ly bro­ken: such is the pow­er of habit.

The punkah (fan) is in con­stant use by day and night, dur­ing eight months of the year. In the hous­es of the Na­tives, the slaves have am­ple em­ploy­ment in ad­min­is­ter­ing to the sev­er­al in­dul­gences which their ladies re­quire at their hands; for with them fixed punkahs have not been in­tro­duced in­to the zeenah­nah:[9] the on­ly punkah in their apart­ments is moved by the hand, im­me­di­ate­ly over or in front of the per­son for whose use it is de­signed. In the gen­tle­men's apart­ments, how­ev­er, and in the hous­es of all Eu­ro­peans, punkahs are sus­pend­ed from the ceil­ing, to which a rope is fas­tened and passed through an aper­ture in the wall in­to the ve­ran­dah, where a man is seat­ed who keeps it con­stant­ly wav­ing, by pulling the rope, so that the largest rooms, and even church­es, are filled with wind, to the great com­fort of all present.

The fe­male slaves, al­though con­stant­ly re­quired about the la­dy's per­son, are nev­er­the­less ten­der­ly treat­ed, and have ev­ery prop­er in­dul­gence af­ford­ed them. They dis­charge in ro­ta­tion the re­quired du­ties of their sta­tions, and ap­pear as much the ob­jects of the la­dy's care as any oth­er peo­ple in her es­tab­lish­ment. Slav­ery with them is with­out sever­ity; and in the ex­ist­ing state of Mus­sul­maun so­ci­ety, they de­clare the wom­en slaves to be nec­es­sary ap­pendages to their rank and re­spectabil­ity. The lib­er­al pro­pri­etors of slaves give them suit­able match­es in mar­riage when they have ar­rived at a prop­er age, and even fos­ter their chil­dren with the great­est care; of­ten grant­ing them a salary, and some­times their free­dom, if re­quired to make them hap­py. In­deed, gen­er­al­ly speak­ing the slaves in a Mus­sul­maun's house must be vi­cious and un­wor­thy, who are not con­sid­ered mem­bers of the fam­ily.

It is an in­dis­putable fact that the wel­fare of their slaves is an ob­ject of un­ceas­ing in­ter­est with their own­ers, if they are re­al­ly good Mus­sul­mauns; in­deed, it is sec­ond on­ly to the re­gard which they man­ifest to their own chil­dren.

Many per­sons have been known, in mak­ing their will, to de­cree the lib­er­ty of their slaves. They are not, how­ev­er, al­ways will­ing to ac­cept the boon. 'To whom shall I go?'--'Where shall I meet a home like my mas­ter's house?' are ap­peals that en­dear the slave to the sur­vivors of the first pro­pri­etor, and prove that their bondage has not been a very painful one. It is an ami­able trait of char­ac­ter amongst the Mus­sul­mauns, with whom I have been in­ti­mate, and which I can nev­er for­get, that the de­pen­dence of their slaves is made easy; that they en­joy ev­ery com­fort com­pat­ible with their sta­tion; and that their health, morals, cloth­ing, and gen­er­al hap­pi­ness, are as much at­tend­ed to as that of their own rel­atives. But slav­ery is a harsh term be­tween man and man, and how­ev­er mit­igat­ed its state, is still de­grad­ing to him. I hearti­ly trust there will be a time when this badge of dis­grace shall be wiped away from ev­ery hu­man be­ing. He that made man, de­signed him for high­er pur­pos­es than to be the slave of his fel­low-​mor­tal; but I should be un­just to the peo­ple of In­dia, if I did not re­mark, that hav­ing the un­con­trolled pow­er in their hands, they ab­stain from the ex­er­cise of any such sever­ity as has dis­graced the own­ers of slaves in oth­er places, where even the laws have failed to pro­tect them from cru­el­ty and op­pres­sion. In­deed, wher­ev­er an in­stance has oc­curred of un­feel­ing con­duct to­wards these help­less be­ings, the most marked de­tes­ta­tion has in­vari­ably been evinced to­wards the au­thors by the re­al Mus­sul­maun.

I have heard of a very beau­ti­ful fe­male slave who had been fos­tered by a Na­tive la­dy of high rank, from her in­fan­cy. In the course of time, this fe­male had ar­rived to the hon­our of be­ing made the com­pan­ion of her young mas­ter, still, how­ev­er, by her Be­gum's con­sent, re­sid­ing with her la­dy, who was much at­tached to her. The free­dom of in­ter­course, oc­ca­sioned by the slave's ex­al­ta­tion, had the ef­fect of less­en­ing the young crea­ture's for­mer re­spect for her still kind mis­tress, to whom she evinced some un­grate­ful re­turns for the many in­dul­gences she had through life re­ceived at her hands. The ex­act na­ture of her of­fences I nev­er heard, but it was deemed req­ui­site, for the sake of ex­am­ple in a house where some hun­dreds of fe­male slaves were main­tained, that the la­dy should adopt some such method of tes­ti­fy­ing her dis­plea­sure to­wards this pret­ty favourite, as would be con­sis­tent with her present el­evat­ed sta­tion. A stout sil­ver chain was there­fore made, by the Be­gum's or­ders, and with this the slave was linked to her bed­stead a cer­tain num­ber of hours ev­ery day, in the view of the whole con­gre­gat­ed fam­ily of slaves. This pun­ish­ment would be felt as a degra­da­tion by the slave; not the con­fine­ment to her bed­stead, where she would per­haps have seat­ed her­self from choice, had she not been in dis­grace.

'Once a slave, and al­ways a slave,' says Fier­dowsee the great po­et of Per­sia; but this apoph­thegm was in al­lu­sion to the 'mean mind' of the King who treat­ed him scurvi­ly af­ter his im­mense labour in that no­ble work, 'The Shah Namah.' I have a sketch of Fier­dowsee's life, which my hus­band trans­lat­ed for me; but I must for­bear giv­ing it here, as I have heard the whole work it­self is un­der­go­ing a trans­la­tion by an able Ori­en­tal schol­ar, who will doubt­less do jus­tice both to 'The Shah Namah' and the char­ac­ter of Fier­dowsee, who is in so great es­ti­ma­tion with the learned Asi­at­ics.[10]

The Mus­sul­mauns quote their favourite po­ets with much the same free­dom that the more en­light­ened na­tions are wont to use with their famed au­thors. The moral pre­cepts of Saadie[11] are of­ten in­tro­duced with good ef­fect, both in writ­ing and speak­ing, as bea­cons to the in­ex­pe­ri­enced.

Haafiz[12] has ben­efit­ed the Mus­sul­maun world by bright ef­fu­sions of ge­nius, which speak to suc­ces­sive gen­er­ations the won­ders of his ex­traor­di­nary mind. He was a po­et of great mer­it; his style is es­teemed su­pe­ri­or to the writ­ers of any oth­er age; and, notwith­stand­ing the world is rich with the beau­ties of his al­most in­spired mind, yet, strange as it may ap­pear, he nev­er com­piled a sin­gle vol­ume. Even in the age in which he lived his mer­it as a po­et was in great es­ti­ma­tion; but he nev­er thought of ei­ther ben­efit or amuse­ment to the world or to him­self be­yond the present time. He wrote the thoughts of his in­spired mo­ments on pieces of bro­ken pitch­ers or pans, with char­coal; some of his ad­mir­ers were sure to fol­low his foot­steps nar­row­ly, and to their vig­ilance in se­cur­ing those scraps strewed about, wher­ev­er Haafiz had made his so­journ, may to this day be as­cribed the ben­efit de­rived by the pub­lic from his su­pe­ri­or writ­ings. Saadie, how­ev­er, is the stan­dard favourite of all good Mus­sul­mauns; his 'Goolis­taun'[13] (Gar­den of Ros­es), is placed in the hands of ev­ery youth when con­signed to the do­min­ion of a mas­ter, as be­ing the most wor­thy book in the Per­sian lan­guage for his study, whether the beau­ty of his dic­tion or the moral­ity of his sub­jects be con­sid­ered.

The 'Hyaa­tool Kaaloob'[14] (En­light­en­er of the Heart), is an­oth­er Per­sian work, in prose, by Mirza Mahu­mud Baakur, great­ly es­teemed by the learned Mus­sul­mauns. This work con­tains the life and acts of ev­ery known prophet from the Cre­ation, in­clud­ing al­so Mahu­mud and the twelve Emaums. The learned Maul­vee, it ap­pears, first wrote it in the Ara­bic lan­guage, but af­ter­wards trans­lat­ed it in­to Per­sian, with the praise­wor­thy mo­tive of ren­der­ing his in­valu­able work avail­able to those Mus­sul­mauns who were not ac­quaint­ed with Ara­bic.

I have some ex­tracts from this vo­lu­mi­nous work, trans­lat­ed for me by my hus­band, which in­ter­est­ed me on ac­count of the great sim­ilar­ity to our Scrip­ture his­to­ry; and if per­mit­ted at some fu­ture time, I pro­pose of­fer­ing them to the pub­lic in our own lan­guage, con­ceiv­ing they may be as in­ter­est­ing to oth­ers as they have been to me.

The Per­sian and Ara­bic au­thors, I have re­marked, sub­sti­tute Y for J in Scrip­ture names; for in­stance, Ja­cob and Joseph are pro­nounced Yaa­coob and Yeusuf.[15] They al­so dif­fer from us in some names com­menc­ing with A, as in Ab­ba, which they pro­nounce Ub­ba (Fa­ther); for Amen, they say Aameen[16] (the mean­ing strict­ly co­in­cid­ing with ours); for Aaron, Aa­roon; for Moses, Moosa.[17] I am told by those who are in­ti­mate with both lan­guages, that there is a great sim­ilar­ity be­tween the He­brew and Ara­bic. The pas­sage in our Scrip­ture 'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabaethani,' was in­ter­pret­ed to me by an Ara­bic schol­ar, as it is ren­dered in that well-​re­mem­bered verse in the En­glish trans­la­tion.

[1] _Sawari_.

[2] The Pad­shah Begam was the wid­ow of Ghazi-​ud-​din Haidar, King of Oudh. On his death, in 1837, she con­trived a plot to place his pu­ta­tive son, Munna Jan, on the throne. Af­ter a fierce strug­gle in the palace, the re­volt was sup­pressed by the Res­ident, Colonel Low, and his as­sis­tants, Cap­tains Pa­ton and Shake­spear. The pair were con­fined in the Chu­nar Fort till their deaths. See the graph­ic nar­ra­tive by Gen. Slee­man (_Jour­ney Through Oudh_, ii. 172 ff.); al­so H.C. Ir­win (_The Gar­den of In­dia_, 127 f.); Mrs. F. Parks (_Wan­der­ings of a Pil­grim_, ii. 114).

[3] _Khawass_, 'dis­tin­guished': spe­cial at­ten­dants.

[4] _Mugh­lani_, a Moghul wom­an: an at­ten­dant in a zenana, a semp­stress.

[5] _Ka­hani_.

[6] _Chausa, chhah­sa_, not to be found in Platt's _Hin­dus­tani Dic­tio­nary_.

[7] The game of Pachisi, played on a cloth marked in squares: see _Bom­bay Gazetteer_, ix, part ii, 173.

[8] Gam­bling is one of the greater sins.--Sale, _Ko­ran: Pre­lim­inary Dis­course_, 89; Sells, _Faith of Is­lam_, 155.

[9] Fixed punkahs were in­tro­duced ear­ly in the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry.--Yule, _Hob­son-​Job­son_, 744.

[10] Fir­dausi, au­thor of the Shah­na­ma, died A.D. 1020 or 1025, aged 89 years. An abridged trans­la­tion, to which ref­er­ence is made, by J. Atkin­son, was pub­lished in 1832. It has since been trans­lat­ed by A.G. and E. Warn­er (1905), and by A. Rogers (1907).

[11] Shaikh Sa'di, born at Shi­raz A.D. 1175, died 1292, aged 120 lu­nar years. His chief works are the _Gulis­tan_ and the _Bostan_.

[12] Khwa­ja Hafiz, Shams-​ud-​din Muham­mad, au­thor of the Di­wan Hafiz, died at Shi­raz A.D. 1389, where his tomb at Musal­la is the scene of pil­grim­age; see E.G. Browne, _A Year amongst the Per­sians_, 280 f.

[13] _Gulis­tan_.

[14] See p. 77.

[15] Ya'qub, Yusuf.

[16] _Amin_.

[17] Harun, Musa.