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ALSO BY DAYTON DUNCAN
Seed of the Future: Yosemite and the Evolution of the
National Park Idea
The Dust Bowl (with Ken Burns)
The National Parks: America’s Best Idea (with Ken Burns)
Scenes of Visionary Enchantment: Reflections on Lewis and
Clark
Horatio’s Drive: America’s First Road Trip (with Ken Burns)
Mark Twain (with Geoffrey C. Ward and Ken Burns)
Lewis & Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery (with
Ken Burns)
The West: An Illustrated History for Children
People of the West
Miles from Nowhere: Tales from America’s Contemporary
Frontier
Grass Roots: One Year in the Life of the New Hampshire
Presidential Primary
Out West: A Journey Through Lewis & Clark’s America

ALSO BY KEN BURNS

The Vietnam War: An Intimate History (with Geoffrey C.
Ward)
Grover Cleveland, Again!
The Roosevelts: An Intimate History (with Geoffrey C. Ward)
The National Parks: America’s Best Idea (with Dayton
Duncan)
The War: An Intimate History (with Geoffrey C. Ward)
Horatio’s Drive: America’s First Road Trip (with Dayton
Duncan)
Mark Twain: An Illustrated Biography (with Geoffrey C.
Ward and Dayton Duncan)
Jazz: A History of America’s Music (with Geoffrey C. Ward)
Not for Ourselves Alone: The Story of Elizabeth Cady
Stanton and Susan B. Anthony (with Geoffrey C. Ward)
Lewis & Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery (with
Dayton Duncan)
Baseball: An Illustrated History (with Geoffrey C. Ward)
The Civil War: An Illustrated History (with Geoffrey C. Ward
and Ric Burns)
The Shakers: Hands to Work, Hearts to God (with Amy S.
Burns)
Fiddlin’ Bill Hensley, Asheville, North Carolina, 1937
 THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright © 2019 by The Country Music Film Project, LLC

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin
Random House LLC, New York, and distributed in Canada by Random
House of Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited,
Toronto.

www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of

Penguin Random House LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Duncan, Dayton, author. | Burns, Ken, [date]
Title: Country music / by Dayton Duncan ; based on a documentary film
by Ken Burns, written by Dayton Duncan ; with a preface by Ken Burns.
Description: First edition. | New York : Alfred A. Knopf, 2019. | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018047629 (print) | LCCN 2018048609 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780525520559 (e-book) | ISBN 9780525520542 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Country music—History and criticism.
Classification: LCC ML3524 (ebook) | LCC ML3524 .D85 2019 (print) |
DDC 781.64209—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018047629

Ebook ISBN 9780525520559

Cover artwork design © 2019 Public Broadcasting Service

v5.4
a
 In memory of Joe Blake,
who constantly brought his buddy Dayton “home” to country
music;
and Robert K. Burns Sr.,
who sang his grandson Ken many of the old songs.
The circle will be unbroken.
Dolly Parton, Sevierville, Tennessee, 1971
 CONTENTS
Cover
Also by Dayton Duncan and Ken Burns
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication

Old Ghosts and Ancient Tones

1 THE RUB

2 HARD TIMES

3 THE HILLBILLY SHAKESPEARE

4 I CAN’T STOP LOVING YOU

5 THE SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF

AMERICA

6 WILL THE CIRCLE BE UNBROKEN

7 ARE YOU SURE HANK DONE IT THIS

WAY?

8 DON’T GET ABOVE YOUR RAISIN’

AFTERWORD: Waylon, Emmylou, and Joe
Acknowledgments
Bibliography
Film Production Credits
Illustration Credits

A Note About The Authors

Rhiannon Giddens, Charleston, South Carolina, 2010
OLD GHOSTS AND ANCIENT
TONES

There are things that are part of the landscape of human

life that we all deal with—the joy of birth, the sorrow of
death, a broken heart, jealousy, greed, envy, anger. All of
these things are what is in music. Because it is the art of
the invisible. There’s a truth in the music. And it’s too
bad that we as a culture have not been able to address
that truth. That’s the shame of it…. The art tells more of
the tale of us coming together.
—WYNTON MARSALIS

IT MAY BE APOCRYPHAL, but we’ve stumbled across the

anecdote from enough sources and in enough different places
to satisfy any journalist’s or historian’s prickly conscience and
ethical obligation. The late music critic Nat Hentoff first told
us the story more than two decades ago when we were making
a television series for public broadcasting on the history of
jazz. Then, years later, working on this project, a history of
country music, Marty Stuart, the unofficial historian and
keeper of all things sacred about the music he loves, related
the same tale to us. It seems that Charlie Parker, one of the
great creative forces in jazz (and, with Dizzy Gillespie, the
“inventor” of the hugely complex, fast-paced, dazzlingly
virtuosic variety of jazz called bebop), was between sets at one
of the clubs he played at on Fifty-Second Street in New York
City in the late 1940s. Much to his fellow musicians’ shock,
they found him feeding nickels into the jukebox, playing
country music songs. “Bird,” they asked, using his famous
nickname, “how can you play that music?” Parker replied,
“Listen to the stories.”

For most of the last forty years, we have made films solely
about American history. We stated plainly when we were
beginning our first film that we were uninterested in merely
excavating the dry dates, facts, and events of American
history; instead, we were committed to pursuing an
“emotional archeology,” “listening to the ghosts and echoes of
an almost indescribably wise past.” Eschewing nostalgia and
sentimentality, the enemies of any good history, we have
nevertheless been unafraid of exploring real emotion—the
glue that makes the most complex of past events stick in our
minds but also in our hearts. We consciously chose not to
retreat to the relative safety of the rational world, where one
plus one always equals two. We are most interested in that
improbable calculus where one plus one equals three. That, to
us, is, in part, emotional archeology.
For at least twenty years, we have often quoted the late
historian Arthur Schlesinger Jr., who liked to say that we
suffer today from “too much pluribus and not enough unum.”
We have been all about “unum” for decades, extolling as much
as possible a bottom-up version of our past as well as a top-
down one, looking for ways to accentuate what we share in
common, not what drives us apart, widening the scope of
American history, not narrowing it. We wished to exclude no
one’s story at a time when our tribal instincts seem to
promote so much disunion.
We also began to see that our work and interests have
always existed in the figurative space between the two-letter,
lower-case plural pronoun “us,” and the much larger, upper-
case abbreviation for our country—U.S. There is a lot of room
—and feeling—in there, between “us” and U.S.—the warmth
and familiarity of the word “us” (and also “we” and “our”),
standing in contrast to the sheer majesty and breadth of the
history of our United States. We have been mindful, too, of
what the novelist Richard Powers wrote: “The best arguments
in the world won’t change a person’s mind. The only thing
that can do that is a good story.” It is with all those references
and contexts in mind—and in heart—that we have, over the
last several years, devoted so much of our creative energies
trying to understand country music, the art that tries to tell
the stories of those who feel like their stories aren’t being told.
We could not have come to it a moment sooner, but we are
also glad we did not start it a moment later.

It is conventional wisdom, accepted by too many, that country

music is somehow a lesser art form, a simple country cousin
(literally), lacking the elegance and complexity of jazz, a
suspect musical form which too often is easily relegated to the
“lower forty” of our cultural studies, bottomland, not befitting
the scrutiny of sophisticates and—God forbid—scholars. Much
to our delight, we have, over the last eight years of working on
an eight-part, sixteen-and-a-half-hour series for PBS on the
history of country music, and now this companion volume,
discovered just the opposite. Country music turns out to be a
surprisingly broad and inclusive art form that belies the
narrow definition into which many have imprisoned it. The
music’s narrative arc offers a new and at times achingly
personal perspective on our last turbulent century, its clarity
and honesty a refreshing corrective to the recent corruptions
of popular culture. It is the story, at heart, about so-called
ordinary people, who many times lifted themselves out of
unbelievable poverty and hardship, and following an inner
ambition or a dream (or with the help and kindness of others),
shared their own stories—what Charlie Parker heard—in
words so powerful and heartbreaking, and in music so
plaintive and moving, that they have allowed the rest of us to
dream our own dreams as well. And what they have left
behind (and continue to create) is a legacy of emotion,
authenticity, and simplicity unmatched in American music.
It is tempting to segregate the various forms of American
music into their own pigeonholes, erroneously presuming that
these forms had or have little in common. But they all—
whether jazz, the blues, rhythm and blues, folk, rock, or
country—share a common ancestry in the American South.
Within the frictions and tensions between blacks and whites
trying to negotiate their stories with one another is the story
of the birth of American music in general and country music
in particular. Our political and social histories correctly chart
the indignities and injustices these frictions and tensions
often produce. Country music is not immune to those
sufferings, but it does, like other forms of music, suggest
happier and more transcendent possibilities, a civilized
alternative that tries to get beyond those tribal impulses that
continually seem to beset us. It is important to affirm that the
musicians and artists themselves seek only to follow their own
muse, unconcerned with categorization and labels, and so
they cross and recross the restrictive fence lines, the musical
boundaries we have created for our simplistic filing system.
To understand these complex interrelationships, and the
sublime art and emotion they promote, requires only that we
heed Charlie Parker’s words: Listen to the stories.
 A crowd in Backusburg, Kentucky, gathers to hear stars from The
Grand Ole Opry, 1934.

Those of us lucky enough to be engaged with trying to come to

terms with this utterly American music felt we had been
granted a privileged glimpse into a wildly diverse American
family. It is a story that quickly became our story, too. The
basic constituent building blocks of our series, and now this
book, are the pantheon of several dozen great country artists
our narrative considers and asks the viewer and reader to get
to know. From Jimmie Rodgers and the original Carter
Family to Dolly Parton and Garth Brooks; from Johnny Cash
and his superbly talented daughter Rosanne to Hank
Williams, his son Hank Jr., and his granddaughter Holly;
from the Maddox Brothers and Rose to Merle Haggard and
Buck Owens and Dwight Yoakam; from Loretta Lynn and
Charley Pride and Faron Young to Kris Kristofferson, Felice
and Boudleaux Bryant and Roy Acuff; from George Jones and
Tammy Wynette to the Louvin Brothers and Naomi and
Wynonna Judd; from Emmylou Harris and Bill Monroe to
Marty Stuart and Connie Smith, from Ernest Tubb and Bob
Wills and Gene Autry to Willie Nelson and Earl Scruggs and
Roger Miller, we felt as if we were getting to know real people
—almost as if they were members of our own family. There
were the black sheep and the patriarchs, the sage mentors and
the stage mothers, the addicts and the orphans, the sinners
and the saved, the song catchers and the wordsmiths, the
lovers and the loners, all the various branches and offshoots
of this complicated family that was also—amazingly—asking
us in, asking us to stay for supper.
Everywhere we explored this story, we found generosity and
human kindness. Her grade school teacher let little Brenda
Lee, a child star and singing sensation, put her head down in
class to rest from the arduous travel schedule her fame
demanded of her. When Mel Tillis’s teachers recognized that
he could sing without the stutter that affected him and his
brother and father, they would take him from class to class,
letting him sing—and starting, as he remembers, his career in
show business. Lefty Frizzell brought a teenage Merle
Haggard onstage with him and “gave me,” Haggard said, “the
courage to dream.” Bill Monroe did the same for Ricky
Skaggs…when he was only six. There were slights and
indifference, too: “The human being has a history of being
awful cruel to something different,” Haggard told us, as he
and countless others had to escape the prejudice inflicted on
them. Sometimes that pain was paradoxically the deciding
factor in their success—their art came from seeing that cruelty
and rising above it in songs of agony and grinding hardship.
 Young Ricky Skaggs performs with his parents, Dorothy and
Hobert, 1961.

In no other musical idiom had we ever come across this

palpable sense of belonging to such a complex American
family—the hundreds of people and their fans—who populate
and animate our series. It is a hallmark of this far-reaching
and sometimes dysfunctional family that once you’re in, once
you’ve been accepted, you’re in for life, and that kind of
loyalty and kindness, but also a good bit of inevitable tension,
permeates the whole of the tale we try to tell.

In the beginning of our story, we noticed an unavoidable and

in some ways welcome tension between the Old World (that
is, the old Europe, which brought us the fiddle, and the old
Africa, which brought us the banjo) and the New, which
would “steal” and adapt and synthesize songs and instruments
and attitudes, as a uniquely American sensibility was taking
form, expressed so perfectly in the “hill country” music
coming out of western Virginia and eastern Tennessee, the
Carolinas and the hollows of Kentucky. But country music’s
much revered ancestry, the “old ghosts” and “ancient tones”
that Mississippian Marty Stuart invokes in an interview for
our film, has had its own tensions with this new, restless,
almost omnivorous musical form. In any given era, country
music has always wanted to push its own boundaries, always
wanted to try something else, always wanted to swallow whole
this new thing or that, always wanted to move away from its
roots. And then, just as forcibly, it has always wanted to move
back to an earlier era, to embrace all the old traditions, all the
old ghosts and ancient tones, whether they be centuries or just
decades old. It was exhilarating to see this all being worked
out right before our eyes: a respect for the past and a
willingness to toss it aside for whatever was feeding the
artistic appetite of the moment. One is reminded of Abraham
Lincoln’s 1862 Message to Congress, where his country is
undergoing its own almost bipolar breakup. The president’s
speech careens between a respect for tradition: “Fellow
citizens, we cannot escape history…. The fiery trial through
which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the
latest generation”; to a realization that everything has to be
remade, completely reinvented: “The dogmas of the quiet past
are inadequate to the stormy present…. As our case is new, so
we must think anew, and act anew.” As we traveled the five
score years of the arc of our film series, we saw time and time
again this ferocious need to be different, and yet, almost at the
same time, this passionate, deeply felt and deeply American
desire to remain the same. It lit us on fire.
Those tensions extended to black and white, of course; that
is the age-old American issue (Lincoln knew it); it is a tension
that country music was destined to inherit at its very
beginning. The Mount Rushmore of its early stars—Jimmie
Rodgers and A.P. Carter, Bill Monroe and Hank Williams—all
had an African-American mentor who gave them an
appreciation for the blues and enabled each to be better than
he was before. Country music has not spent much time
focusing on that, but we found the reality of it to be resonant
and deeply revealing. It runs both ways, too. Many African-
American artists, like Charlie Parker, but also DeFord Bailey,
Ray Charles, and Charley Pride, found in country music their
own inspiration—and their curiosity and contributions
broadened the music’s appeal and legitimacy.
The tension between Saturday Night and Sunday Morning,
the sinner and the saved, the rascal and the responsible one,
runs throughout all of American music, but no more so than
in country music. Jimmie Rodgers, the music’s first superstar,
Hank Williams, perhaps its greatest songwriter, and Johnny
Cash, its towering, transcendent patriarch, were all familiar
with the dark side, the Saturday night of dimly lit bars and too
much alcohol, infidelity and other temptations of the road,
and they all celebrated an outlaw streak, an exultation of the
rogue, that extends from them through Willie Nelson, Kris
Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, right up to the present. On
the other hand, the Carter Family seemed to embody a
centuries-old ideal of Family, Mother, and the Church that
runs genuinely (and sometimes sanctimoniously) through the
music and the country it tries to represent. Their example
would be mirrored in generations of future stars more
interested in promoting virtue in their music than vice. But as
is often the case, those disparate polarities coexisted within
the same artist, and the profoundly human music they made
as a result reflected their never-ending search for some kind
of redemption. Rosanne Cash told us that her father “could
hold two opposing thoughts at the same time and believe in
both of them with the same degree of passion and power.” His
art was the mitigating, the reconciling force. He “worked out
all of his problems onstage,” Rosanne continued. “That’s
where he took his best self, that’s where he took all of his
anguish and fears and griefs, and he worked them out with an
audience. That’s just who he was. And [he] got purified by the
end of the night.” On the other side of the coin, the reality of
A.P. and Sara Carter’s strained marriage and her passionate
love affair with her husband’s young cousin is the stuff of
almost unbelievable melodrama.

Fans at the Blackboard honky tonk have fun listening to Buck

Owens and His Buckaroos, 1956.
 There is in country music, as in all things, an inherent
tension between men and women, but we’ve never worked on
any film before now that has had such strong and assertive
women, whose artistic expression of their own struggles
predates any feminist or Me Too movement. From Sara Carter
chafing at a distant and distracted husband, to Kitty Wells
defiantly proclaiming in a number one hit, “It Wasn’t God
Who Made Honky Tonk Angels”; from Loretta Lynn’s
subversively proto-feminist songs “Don’t Come Home a-
Drinkin’ with Lovin’ on Your Mind” and “The Pill,” to Reba
McEntire’s willingness to confront enduring women’s issues
in songs like “Is There Life Out There?”; not to mention the
incredibly successful career of Dolly Parton; women, and their
stories and art, make up a huge part of our sprawling,
multigenerational, almost Russian novel–like series and this
book.
More tensions central to country music continued to
surface and continued to multiply as we pursued our story.
Ever present was the conflict between art and commerce—
that is to say, whether to be a copycat of some earlier success,
or, as Garth Brooks explained to us, “go down being true to
yourself.” (Spoiler: Brooks chose to be true to himself, but did
not go down.) The influential singer-songwriter Guy Clark
told his up-and-coming fellow Texan Rodney Crowell, “You’re
a talented guy. You can be a star. You probably have the talent
to do it. Or you can be an artist. Pick one. They’re both
worthwhile pursuits.” Fortunately, many of the artists we
meet and follow in our series end up having it both ways. But
a record’s triumph always bred in the businessmen who sold
them a desire to clone whatever had just worked—the death, it
would seem, of creativity in any endeavor. Still, in the late
1950s and early ’60s, some record producers, hoping for
crossover success in the lucrative pop market, created the
Nashville Sound, smoothing out country’s rougher edges,
adding sweet strings and backup vocals, and ended up having
hit after hit. Chet Atkins, the genius session guitarist turned
genius producer, was once asked what the Nashville Sound
was. He jingled the change in his pocket.
There were also geographical tensions in a music that was
never one thing, never something easily categorized or
labeled. From the “ancient tones” of the hill country music
springing out of the farmhouses and hamlets of Appalachia to
the rough, wide-open songs of California’s Central Valley,
country music has absorbed—and, for the most part, tamed—
all its many and varied constituent parts. The Deep South
gave us the mournful blues and aching heartbreak of Jimmie
Rodgers and Hank Williams (along with a huge dollop of hell-
raising fun), and Texas and Oklahoma supplied dozens of
defiant, fiercely independent singer-songwriters, all willing to
buck traditions imposed from on high by country music’s
masters back in Nashville. Along our southern border,
Mexican music filtered up and influenced an untold number
of country music singers and songwriters, including one of the
very best, Kris Kristofferson. And the West gave us cowboy
songs and honky-tonk ballads that tumbled out of rowdy
saloons, songs filled with longing and resentment—and
having a good time.
 A Mexican-American farm worker plays his guitar and sings in a
California migrant labor camp, 1935.

Country music comes from the country, of course, but cities

—Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Bakersfield, and especially
Nashville—are central to its growth. Where you’re from, and
what you still remember about home, and still wish for, is key
in country music. Where you’re going, and how you’re
planning to get there, figures prominently as well. Roy Clark,
the owner (he lets us know) of two custom-made tuxedos,
wasn’t afraid to brag about or wear on the TV show Hee Haw
the bib overalls he wore as a boy in Meherrin, Virginia.
Everyone (it seemed) heard songs in a particular place. And
that place and those tunes became at times one and the same
thing. When Hazel Smith first listens to George Jones singing
“He Stopped Loving Her Today” on the car radio, she has to
pull off I-64 near Nashville, she explains, and cry. Garth
Brooks, from Oklahoma, has a similar experience, rooted in
his place: “I was going to the store with my dad and I
remember coming out of Turtle Creek, up there where I was
going to take a left by the blue church, heading north to
Snyder’s IGA, and my dad had his radio on…and this lady
says, ‘Here’s a new kid from Texas and I think you’re going to
like him.’ And it was George Strait…. And it was that day, I
looked and said, ‘That’s what I want to be.’ ” Marty Stuart told
us, “When I was growing up on Route 8, Kosciusko Road, in
Philadelphia, Mississippi, the Gulf, Mobile & Ohio ran right
behind our house…. And I used to dream about getting on that
train and riding…. I didn’t want to go to New York. I didn’t
want to go to Hollywood. I wanted to go to Nashville and play
the kind of music that touched my heart.”

The biggest tension was the most obvious and the most
difficult to reconcile: the tension between the words and the
music. As filmmakers, we understand a bit about that
dynamic as we seek to find the right balance between our
words and the images that accompany them. Or vice versa.
It’s a fundamental challenge, and each successful film has to
find its own organic equilibrium. It is the same in country
music, where the words and the music often add up to so
much more than what the notes on the page indicate. That
was where the art was made. That was when the whole
became much greater than the sum of its parts. We looked for
that moment everywhere, but it refused to yield to any
formula of discovery and always defied description.
Everything, every song that tumbled out, success or failure,
was unpredictable in the extreme. Gradually, we began to see
the film we were making as a complex overlay of all these
tensions. From the first episode to the last, songs and their
lyrics became akin to our human characters. Some were like
Marty Stuart’s “ancient tones,” around as long as the hills
have been, their truths, however, as fresh as today. Some were
brand new, shockingly new, but they often sounded as if they
were hundreds of years old. Some were like “heirlooms,” as
Dolly Parton told us, songs passed on from generation to
generation to generation. In our series, these songs appear
and reappear, “old ghosts” (Marty would say again), as
powerful in their rebirth and influence as, say, the music and
memory of Hank Williams. In this way, we follow an old hymn
that is rearranged by an African-American minister, only to be
reworded by the Carter Family, finally ending up as Woody
Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land.” “Mule Skinner Blues,”
one of Jimmie Rodgers’s greatest tunes, undergoes no less
than three more “rebirths” in our film—with Bill Monroe, the
Maddox Brothers and Rose, and Dolly Parton each
reimagining it for a new generation. “Will the Circle Be
Unbroken,” about burying one’s mother, becomes one of the
most joyous and most sung songs in all of American music, its
sad lyrics left essentially unchanged.
 Mother Maybelle Carter performs at the Opry, with Chet Atkins
(left) on the guitar, 1955.

Along with this often exhilarating appreciation of the

tension between the virtuous and the rascal, between black
and white, and men and women, between regions, between
the conformist and the contrarian, between the authority of
tradition and the thrill of the experimental, country music is
also hugely about rising up from the bottom, about striving,
and the overweening ambition to better oneself and one’s
family. A disproportionate number of country music’s greatest
stars were born into a stultifying poverty reminiscent of the
Great Depression. (For many of our characters it was the
Depression.) Dolly Parton’s parents paid the doctor who
delivered her with a sack of cornmeal. Roger Miller came from
a town in Oklahoma so small and so poor “that we didn’t have
a town drunk, so we had to take turns.” Rose Maddox from
Boaz, Alabama, and her brothers and parents, had to live in a
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 281 That I should be unfettered

in my choice, And free to take the husband I preferred. This I have
done ; and to the greatest king The world can boast, my fortunes
are united, To Jemshid, the most perfect of mankind." With this
explanation the King expressed abundant and unusual satisfaction.
His satisfaction, however, did not arise from the circumstance of the
marriage, and the new connection it established, but from the
opportunity it afforded him of betraying Jemshid, and treacherously
sending him bound to Zohak, which he intended to do, in the hopes
of being magnificently rewarded. Exulting with this anticipation, he
said to her smiling: " Glad tidings thou hast given to me, My glory
owes its birth to thee ; I bless the day, and bless the hour, Which
placed this Jemshid in my power. Now to Zohak, a captive bound, I
send the wanderer thou hast found; For he who charms the
monarch's eyes With this long-sought, this noble prize, On solemn
word and oath, obtains A wealthy kingdom for his pains." On hearing
these cruel words the damsel groaned, and wept exceedingly before
her father, and said to him: " Oh, be not accessory to the murder of
such a king ! Wealth and kingdoms pass away, but a bad name
remains till the day of doom. " Turn thee, my father, from this
dreadful thought, And save his sacred blood : let not thy name Be
syllabled with horror through the world For such an act as this.
When foes are slain, It is enough, but keep the sword away From
friends and kindred ; shun domestic crime. Fear him who giveth life,
and strength, and power, For goodness is most blessed. On the day
Of judgment thou wilt then be unappalled.
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THE SACRED BOOKS But if determined to divide us, first

Smite off this head, and let thy daughter die." So deep and violent
was the grief of the princess, and her lamentations so unceasing,
that the father became softened into compassion, and, on her
account, departed from the resolution he had made. He even
promised to furnish Jemshid with possessions, with treasure, and an
army, and requested her to give him the consolation he required,
adding that he would see him in the morning in his garden. • The
heart-alluring damsel instant flew To tell the welcome tidings to her
lord. Next day King Gureng proceeded to the garden, and had an
interview with Jemshid, to whom he expressed the warmest favor
and affection; but notwithstanding all he said, Jemshid could place
no confidence in his professions, and was anxious to effect his
escape. He was, indeed, soon convinced of his danger, for he had a
private intimation that the King's viziers were consulting together on
the expedience of securing his person, under the apprehension that
Zohak would be invading the country, and consigning it to
devastation and ruin, if his retreat were discovered. He therefore
took to flight. Jemshid first turned his steps toward Chin, and
afterward into Ind. He had traveled a great distance in that beautiful
country, and one day came to a tower, under whose shadow he
sought a little repose, for the thoughts of his melancholy and
disastrous condition kept him almost constantly awake. And am I
thus to perish ? Thus forlorn, To mingle with the dust ? Almighty God
! Was ever mortal born to such a fate, A fate so sad as mine ! Oh
that I never Had drawn the breath of life, to perish thus ! Exhausted
by the keenness of his affliction Jemshid at length fell asleep. Zohak,
in the meanwhile, had dispatched
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 283 an envoy, with an escort of

troops, to the Khakan of Chin,^ and at that moment the cavalcade
happened to be passing by the tower where Jemshid was reposing.
The envoy, attracted to the spot, immediately recognized him, and
awakening him to a sense of this new misfortune, secured the
despairing and agonized wanderer, and sent him to Zohak. He saw a
person sleeping on the ground, And knew that it was Jemshid.
Overjoyed, He bound his feet with chains, and mounted him Upon a
horse, a prisoner. What a world! No place of rest for man ! Fix not
thy heart, Vain mortal ! on this tenement of life, On earthly
pleasures ; think of Jemshid's fate ; His glory reached the Heavens,
and now this world Has bound the valiant monarch's limbs in fetters,
And placed its justice in the hands of slaves. When Zohak received
intelligence of the apprehension of his enemy, he ordered him to be
brought before the throne that he might enjoy the triumph. All fixed
their gaze upon the captive king, Loaded with chains; his hands
behind his back; The ponderous fetters passing from his neck Down
to his feet ; oppressed with shame he stood, Like the narcissus bent
with heavy dew. Zohak received him with a scornful smile, Saying, "
Where is thy diadem, thy throne, Where is thy kingdom, where thy
sovereign rule; Thy laws and royal ordinances — where, Where are
they now? What change is this that fate Has wrought upon thee ? "
Jemshid thus rejoined : " Unjustly am I brought in chains before
thee, Betrayed, insulted — thou the cause of all, And yet thou
wouldst appear to feel my wrongs ! " Incensed at this defiance,
mixed with scorn, Fiercely Zohak replied, " Then choose thy death ;
Shall I behead thee, stab thee, or impale thee, Or with an arrow's
point transfix thy heart ! What is thy choice ? " —
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THE SACRED BOOKS " Since I am in thy power, Do with me

what thou wilt — why should I dread Thy utmost vengeance, why
express a wish To save my body from a moment's pain ! n As soon
as Zohak heard these words he resolved upon a horrible deed of
vengeance. He ordered two planks to be brought, and Jemshid being
fastened down between them, his body was divided the whole
length with a saw, making two figures of Jemshid out of one ! "Why
do mankind upon this fleeting world Place their affections,
wickedness alone Is nourished into freshness ; sounds of death, too,
Are ever on the gale to wear out life. My heart is satisfied — 0
Heaven ! no more, Free me at once from this continual sorrow. It
was not long before tidings of the foul proceedings, which put an
end to the existence of the unfortunate Jemshid, reached Zabulistan.
The princess, his wife, on hearing of his fate, wasted away with
inconsolable grief, and at last took poison to unburden herself of
insupportable affliction. It is related that Jemshid had two sisters,
named Shahrnaz and Arnawaz. They had been both seized, and
conveyed to Zohak by his people, and continued in confinement for
some time in the King's harem, but they were afterward released by
Feridun. The tyrant's cruelty and oppression had become intolerable.
He was constantly shedding blood, and committing every species of
crime. The serpents still on human brains were fed, And every day
two youthful victims bled ; The sword, still ready — thirsting still to
strike, Warrior and slave were sacrificed alike. The career of Zohak
himself, however, was not un visited by terrors. One night he dreamt
that he was attacked by three warriors; two of them of large stature,
and one of
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 285 them small. The youngest

struck him a blow on the head with his mace, bound his hands, and
casting a rope round his neck, dragged him along in the presence of
crowds of people. Zohak screamed, and sprung up from his sleep in
the greatest horror. The females of his harem were filled with
amazement when they beheld the terrified countenance of the King,
who, in reply to their inquiries, said, trembling : " This is a dream
too dreadful to be concealed." He afterward called together the
Mubids, or wise men of his court ; and having communicated to
them the particulars of what had appeared to him in his sleep,
commanded them to give him a faithful interpretation of the dream.
The Mubids foresaw in this vision the approaching declension of his
power and dominion, but were afraid to explain their opinions,
because they were sure that their lives would be sacrificed if the
true interpretation were given to him. Three days were consumed
under the pretense of studying more scrupulously all the signs and
appearances, and still not one of them had courage to speak out. On
the fourth day the King grew angry, and insisted upon the dream
being interpreted. In this dilemma, the Mubids said, " Then, if the
truth must be told, without evasion, thy life approaches to an end,
and Feridun, though yet unborn, will be thy successor." " But who
was it," inquired Zohak impatiently, " that struck the blow on my
head ? " The Mubids declared, with fear and trembling, " it was the
apparition of Feridun himself, who is destined to smite thee on the
head." " But why," rejoined Zohak, " does he wish to injure me ? y: "
Because, his father's blood being spilt by thee, vengeance falls into
his hands." Hearing this interpretation of his dream, the King sank
senseless on the ground; and when he recovered, he could neither
sleep nor take food, but continued overwhelmed with sorrow and
misery. The light of his day was forever darkened. Abtin was the
name of Feridun7 s father, and that of his mother Faranuk, of the
race of Tahumers. Zohak, therefore, stimulated to further cruelty by
the prophecy, issued an order that every person belonging to the
family of the
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286 THE SACRED BOOKS Kais, wherever found, should be

seized and fettered, and brought to him. Abtin had long avoided
discovery, continuing to reside in the most retired and solitary
places; but one day his usual circumspection forsook him, and he
ventured beyond his limits. This imprudent step was dreadfully
punished, for the spies of Zohak fell in with him, recognized him,
and carrying him to the King, he was immediately put to death.
When the mother of Feridun heard of this sanguinary catastrophe
she took up her infant and fled. It is said that Feridun was at that
time only two months old. In her flight the mother happened to
arrive at some pasturage ground. The keeper of the pasture had a
cow named Pur'maieh, which yielded abundance of milk, and he
gave it away in charity. In consequence of the grief and distress of
mind occasioned by the murder of her husband, Faranuk's milk dried
up in her breasts, and she was therefore under the necessity of
feeding the child with the milk from the cow. She remained there
one night, and would have departed in the morning ; but
considering the deficiency of milk, and the misery in which she was
involved, continually afraid of being discovered and known, she did
not know what to do. At length she thought it best to leave Feridun
with the keeper of the pasture, and resigning him to the protection
of God, went herself to the mountain Alberz. The keeper readily
complied with the tenderest wishes of the mother, and nourished the
child with the fondness and affection of a parent during the space of
three years. After that period had elapsed, deep sorrow continuing
to afflict the mind of Faranuk, she returned secretly to the old man
of the pasture, for the purpose of reclaiming and conveying Feridun
to a safe place of refuge upon the mountain Alberz. The keeper said
to her: "Why dost thou take, the child to the mountain ? he will
perish there " ; but she replied that God Almighty had inspired a
feeling in her heart that it was necessary to remove him. It was a
divine inspiration, and verified by the event. Intelligence having at
length reached Zohak that the son of Abtin was nourished and
protected by the keeper of the
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 287 pasture, lie himself

proceeded with a large force to the spot, where he put to death the
keeper and all his tribe, and also the cow which had supplied milk to
Feridun, whom he sought for in vain. He found the dwelling of his
infant-foe, And laid it in the dust ; the very ground Was punished for
the sustenance it gave him. The ancient records relate that a dervish
happened to have taken up his abode in the mountain Alberz, and
that Faranuk committed her infant to his fostering care. The dervish
generously divided with the mother and son all the food and
comforts which God gave him, and at the same time he took great
pains in storing the mind of Feridun with various kinds of knowledge.
One day he said to the mother: " The person foretold by wise men
and astrologers as the destroyer of Zohak and his tyranny, is thy son
! " This child to whom thou gavest birth Will be the monarch of the
earth " ; and the mother, from several concurring indications and
signs, held a similar conviction. When Feridun had attained his
sixteenth year, he descended from the mountain, and remained for a
time on the plain beneath. He inquired of his mother why Zohak had
put his father to death, and Faranuk then told him the melancholy
story; upon hearing which, he resolved to be revenged on the
tyrant. His mother endeavored to divert him from his determination,
observing that he was young, friendless, and alone, whilst his enemy
was the master of the world, and surrounded by armies. " Be not
therefore precipitate," said she. " If it is thy destiny to become a
king, wait till the Almighty shall bless thee with means sufficient for
the purpose." Displeased, the youth his mother's caution heard, And
meditating vengeance on the head Of him who robbed him of a
father, thus
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288 THE SACRED BOOKS Impatiently replied : " 'Tis Heaven

inspires me ; Led on by Heaven, this arm will quickly bring The
tyrant from his palace, to the dust.7' " Imprudent boy ! " the anxious
mother said ; " Canst thou contend against imperial power ? Must I
behold thy ruin ? Pause awhile, And perish not in this wild
enterprise." It is recorded that Zohak' s dread of Feridun was so
great, that day by day he became more irritable, wasting away in
bitterness of spirit, for people of all ranks kept continually talking of
the young invader, and were daily expecting his approach. At last he
came, and Zohak was subdued, and his power extinguished. KAVAH,
THE BLACKSMITH Zohak having one day summoned together all the
nobles and philosophers of the kingdom, he said to them : " I find
that a young enemy has risen up against me; but notwithstanding
his tender years, there is no safety even with an apparently
insignificant foe. I hear, too, that though young, he is distinguished
for his prowess and wisdom; yet I fear not him, but the change of
fortune. I wish therefore to assemble a large army, consisting of
Men, Demons, and Peris, that this enemy may be surrounded, and
conquered. And, further, since a great enterprise is on the eve of
being undertaken, it will be proper in future to keep a register or
muster-roll of all the people of every age in my dominions, and have
it revised annually." The register, including both old and young, was
accordingly prepared. At that period there lived a man named Kavah,
a blacksmith, remarkably strong and brave, and who had a large
family. Upon the day on which it fell to the lot of two of his children
to be killed to feed the serpents, he rose up with indignation in
presence of the King, and said : " Thou art the King, but wherefore
on my head Cast fire and ashes? If thou hast the form Of hissing
dragon, why to me be cruel ? Why give the brains of my beloved
children
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 389 % As serpent-food, and

talk of doing justice ? " At this bold speech the monarch was
dismayed, And scarcely knowing what he did, released The
blacksmith's sons. How leapt the father's heart, How warmly he
embraced his darling boys ! But now Zohak directs that Kavah's
name Shall be inscribed upon the register. Soon as the blacksmith
sees it written there, Wrathful he turns toward the chiefs assembled,
Exclaiming aloud : " Are ye then men, or what, Leagued with a
Demon ! " All astonished heard, And saw him tear the hated register,
And cast it under foot with rage and scorn. Kavah having thus
reviled the King bitterly, and destroyed the register of blood,
departed from the court, and took his children along with him. After
he had gone away, the nobles said to the King: "Why should
reproaches, sovereign of the world, Be thus permitted? Why the
royal scroll Torn in thy presence, with a look and voice Of proud
defiance, by the rebel blacksmith? So fierce his bearing, that he
seems to be A bold confederate of this Feridun." Zohak replied : " I
know not what o'ercame me, But when I saw him with such
vehemence Of grief and wild distraction, strike his forehead,
Lamenting o'er his children, doomed to death, Amazement seized
my heart, and chained my will. What may become of this, Heaven
only knows, For none can pierce the veil of destiny." Kavah,
meanwhile, with warning voice set forth What wrongs the nation
suffered, and there came Multitudes round him, who called out
aloud For justice ! justice ! On his javelin's point He fixed his
leathern apron for a banner, And lifting it on high, he went abroad
To call the people to a task of vengeance. Wherever it was seen
crowds followed fast, Tired of the cruel tyranny they suffered. " Let
us unite with Feridun," he cried, VOL. VII.— 19.
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290 THE SACRED BOOKS " And from Zohak's oppression we

are free ! " And still he called aloud, and all obeyed Who heard him,
high and low. Anxious he sought For Feridun, not knowing his
retreat : But still he hoped success would crown his search. The
hour arrived, and when he saw the youth, Instinctively he knew him,
and thanked Heaven For that good fortune. Then the leathern
banner Was splendidly adorned with gold and jewels, And called the
flag of Kavah. From that time It was a sacred symbol ; every king In
future, on succeeding to the throne, Did honor to that banner, the
true sign Of royalty, in veneration held. Feridun, aided by the
directions and advice of the blacksmith, now proceeded against
Zohak. His mother wept to see him depart, and continually implored
the blessing of God upon him. He had two elder brothers, whom he
took along with him. Desirous of having a mace formed like the head
of a cow, he requested Kavah to make one of iron, and it was
accordingly made in the shape he described. In his progress, he
visited a shrine or place of pilgrimage frequented by the worshipers
of God, where he besought inspiration and aid, and where he was
taught by a radiant personage the mysteries of the magic art,
receiving from him a key to every secret. Bright beamed his eye,
with firmer step he strode, His smiling cheek with warmer crimson
glowed. When his two brothers saw his altered mien, the pomp and
splendor of his appearance, they grew envious of his good fortune,
and privately meditated his fall. One day they found him asleep at
the foot of a mountain, and they immediately went to the top and
rolled down a heavy fragment of rock upon him with the intention of
crushing him to death; but the clattering noise of the stone awoke
him, and, instantly employing the knowledge of sorcery which had
been communicated to him, the stone was suddenly
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 291 arrested by him in its

course. The brothers beheld this with astonishment, and hastening
down the mountain, cried aloud : " We know not how the stone was
loosened from its place : God forbid that it should have done any
injury to Feridun." Feridun, however, was well aware of this being
the evil work of his brothers, but he took no notice of the conspiracy,
and instead of punishing them, raised them to higher dignity and
consequence. They say that Kavah directed the route of Feridun over
the mountainous tracts and plains which lie contiguous to the banks
of the Dijleh, or Tigris, close to the city of Bagdad. Upon reaching
that river, they called for boats, but got no answer from the
ferryman; at which Feridun was enraged, and immediately plunged,
on horseback, into the foaming stream. All his army followed without
delay, and with the blessing of God arrived on the other side in
safety. He then turned toward the Bait-el-Mukaddus, built by Zohak.
In the Pahlavi language it was called " Kunukduz-mokt." The tower
of this edifice was so lofty that it might be seen at the distance of
many leagues, and within that tower Zohak had formed a talisman
of miraculous virtues. Feridun soon overthrew this talisman, and
destroyed or vanquished successively with his mace all the
enchanted monsters and hideous shapes which appeared before
him. He captured the whole of the building, and released all the
black-eyed damsels who were secluded there, and among them
Shahrnaz and Arnawaz, the two sisters of Jemshid before alluded to.
He then ascended the empty throne of Zohak, which had been
guarded by the talisman, and the Demons under his command; and
when he heard that the tyrant had gone with an immense army
toward Ind, in quest of his new enemy, and had left his treasury
with only a small force at the seat of his government, he rejoiced,
and appropriated the throne and the treasure to himself. From their
dark solitudes the Youth brought forth The black-haired damsels,
lovely as the sun, And Jemshid's sisters, long imprisoned there ; And
gladly did the inmates of that harem
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292 THE SACRED BOOKS Pour out their gratitude on being

freed From that terrific monster ; thanks to Heaven Devoutly they
expressed, and ardent joy. Feridun inquired of Arnawaz why Zohak
had chosen the route toward Ind ; and she replied, " For two
reasons : the first is, he expects to encounter thee in that quarter;
and if he fails, he will subdue the whole country, which is the seat of
sorcery, and thus obtain possession of a renowned magician who
can charm thee into his power. " He wishes to secure within his
grasp That region of enchantment, Hindustan, And then obtain relief
from what he feels ; For night and day the terror of thy name
Oppresses him, his heart is all on fire, And life is torture to him."
FEEIDUN Kandru, the keeper of the talisman, having effected his
escape, fled to Zohak, to whom he gave intelligence of the release of
his women, the destruction of the talisman, and the conquest of his
empire. "The sign of retribution has appeared, For sorrow is the fruit
of evil deeds." Thus Kandru spoke : " Three warriors have advanced
Upon thy kingdom from a distant land, One of them young, and
from his air and mien He seems to me of the Kayanian race. He
came, and boldly seized the splendid throne, And all thy spells, and
sorceries, and magic "Were instantly dissolved by higher power, And
all who dwelt within thy palace walls, Demon or man, all utterly
destroyed, Their severed heads cast weltering on the ground." Then
was Zohak confounded, and he shrunk Within himself with terror,
thinking now His doom was sealed; but anxious to appear, In
presence of his army, gay and cheerful, Lest they too should despair,
he dressed himself
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 293 In rich attire, and with a

pleasant look Said carelessly : " Perhaps some gamesome guest
Hath in his sport committed this strange act," " A guest, indeed ! "
Kandru replied, " a guest, In playful mood to batter down thy palace
! If he had been thy guest, why with his mace, Cow-headed, has he
done such violence ? Why did he penetrate thy secret chambers,
And bring to light the beautiful Shahrnaz, And red-lipped Arnawaz ?
" At this, Zohak Trembled with wrath — the words were death to him
; And sternly thus he spoke : " What hast thou fled Through fear,
betraying thy important trust? No longer shalt thou share my
confidence, No longer share my bounty and regard." To this the
keeper tauntingly replied : " Thy kingdom is overthrown, and
nothing now Eemains for thee to give me ; thou art lost." The tyrant
immediately turned toward his army, with the intention of making a
strong effort to regain his throne, but he found that as soon as the
soldiers and the people were made acquainted with the proceedings
and success of Feridun, rebellion arose among them, and shuddering
with horror at the cruelty exercised by him in providing food for the
accursed serpents, they preferred embracing the cause of the new
King. Zohak, seeing that he had lost the affections of the army, and
that universal revolt was the consequence, adopted another course,
and endeavored alone to be revenged upon his enemy. He
proceeded on his journey, and arriving by night at the camp of
Feridun, hoped to find him off his guard and put him to death. He
ascended a high place, himself unobserved, from which he saw
Feridun sitting engaged in soft dalliance with the lovely Shahrnaz.
The fire of jealousy and revenge now consumed him more fiercely,
and he was attempting to effect his purpose, when Feridun was
roused by the noise, and starting up struck a furious blow with his
cow-headed mace upon the temples of Zohak, which crushed the
bone, and he was on the point of giving him another; but a
supernatural voice whispered in his ear,
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294. THE SACRED BOOKS " Slay him not now — his time is
not yet come, His punishment must be prolonged awhile ; And as he
can not now survive the wound, Bind him with heavy chains —
convey him straight Upon the mountain, there within a cave, Deep,
dark, and horrible — with none to soothe His sufferings, let the
murderer lingering die." The work of heaven performing, Feridun
First purified the world from sin and crime. Yet Feridun was not an
angel, nor Composed of musk or ambergris. By justice And
generosity he gained his fame. Do thou but exercise these princely
virtues, And thou wilt be renowned as Feridun. ZAL, THE SON OF
SAM According to the traditionary histories from which Firdausi has
derived his legends, the warrior Sam had a son born to him whose
hair was perfectly white. On his birth the nurse went to Sam and
told him that God had blessed him with a wonderful child, without a
single blemish, excepting that his hair was white; but when Sam saw
him he was grieved: His hair was white as goose's wing, His cheek
was like the rose of spring, His form was straight as cypress tree —
But when the sire was brought to see That child with hair so silvery
white, His heart revolted at the sight. His mother gave him the name
of Zal, and the people said to Sam, " This is an ominous event, and
will be to thee productive of nothing but calamity; it would be better
if thou couldst remove him out of sight. " No human being of this
earth Could give to such a monster birth ; He must be of the Demon
race, Though human still in form and face. If not a Demon, he, at
least, Appears a parti-colored beast."
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 295 When Sam was made

acquainted with these reproaches and sneers of the people, he
determined, though with a sorrowful heart, to take him up to the
mountain Alberz, and abandon him there to be destroyed by beasts
of prey. Alberz was the abode of the Simurgh or Griffin,1 and, whilst
flying about in quest of food for his hungry young ones, that
surprising animal discovered the child lying alone upon the hard
rock, crying and sucking its fingers. The Simurgh, however, felt no
inclination to devour him, but compassionately took him up in the
air, and conveyed him to his own habitation. He who is blest with
Heaven's grace Will never want a dwelling-place, And he who bears
the curse of Fate Can never change his wretched state. A voice, not
earthly, thus addressed The Simurgh in his mountain nest — . " To
thee this mortal I resign, Protected by the power divine; Let him thy
fostering kindness share, Nourish him with paternal care ; For from
his loins, in time, will spring The champion of the world, and bring
Honor on earth, and to thy name ; The heir of everlasting fame."
The young ones were also kind and affectionate to the infant, which
was thus nourished and protected by the Simurgh for several years.
It is said that one night, after melancholy musings and reflecting on
the miseries of this life, Sam was visited by i The sex of this fabulous
animal is not clearly made out ! It tells Zal that it had nursed him
like a father, and therefore I have, in this place, adopted the
masculine gender, though the preserver of young ones might
authorize its being considered a female. The Simurgh is probably
neither one nor the other, or both! Some have likened the Simurgh
to the Ippogrif or Griffin; but the, Simurgh is plainly a biped; others
again have supposed that the fable simply meant a holy recluse of
the mountains, who nourished and educated the poor child which
had been abandoned by its father.
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296 THE SACRED BOOKS a dream, and when the

particulars of it were communicated to the interpreters of mysterious
warnings and omens they declared that Zal was certainly still alive,
although he had been long exposed on Alberz, and left there to be
torn to pieces by wild animals. Upon this interpretation being given,
the natural feelings of the father returned, and he sent his people to
the mountain in search of Zal, but without success. On another night
Sam dreamt a second time, when he beheld a young man of a
beautiful countenance at the head of an immense army, with a
banner flying before him, and a Nubid on his left hand. One of them
addressed Sam, and reproached him thus : " Unfeeling mortal, hast
thou from thy eyes Washed out all sense of shame ? Dost thou
believe That to have silvery tresses is a crime ? If so, thy head is
covered with white hair ; And were not both spontaneous gifts from
Heaven ? Although the boy was hateful to thy sight, The grace of
God has been bestowed upon him ; And what is human tenderness
and love To Heaven's protection ? Thou to him wert cruel, But
Heaven has blest him, shielding him from harm." Sam screamed
aloud in his sleep, and awoke greatly terrified. Without delay he
went himself to Alberz, and ascended the mountain, and wept and
prayed before the throne of the Almighty, saying: " If that forsaken
child be truly mine, And not the progeny of Demon fell, 0 pity me !
forgive the wicked deed, And to my eyes my injured son restore."
His prayer was accepted. The Simurgh, hearing the lamentations of
Sam among his people, knew that he came in quest of his son, and
thus said to Zal : " I have fed and protected thee like a kind nurse,
and I have given thee the name of Dustan, like a father. Sam, the
warrior, has just come upon the mountain in search of his child, and
I must restore
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 297 thee to him, and we must

part." Zal wept when he heard of this unexpected separation, and in
strong terms expressed his gratitude to his benefactor; for the
Wonderful Bird had not omitted to teach him the language of the
country, and ta cultivate his understanding, removed as they were to
such a distance from the haunts of mankind. The Simurgh soothed
him by assuring him that he was not going to abandon him to
misfortune, but to increase his prosperity; and, as a striking proof of
affection, gave him a feather from his own wing, with these
instructions: "Whenever thou art involved in difficulty or danger, put
this feather on the fire, and I will instantly appear to thee to ensure
thy safety. Never cease to remember me. " I have watched thee with
fondness by day and by night, And supplied all thy wants with a
father's delight ; 0 forget not thy nurse — still be faithful to me —
And my heart will be ever devoted to thee." Zal immediately replied
in a strain of gratitude and admiration; and then the Simurgh
conveyed him to Sam, and said to him : " Receive thy son — he is of
wonderful promise, and will be worthy of the throne and the
diadem." The soul of Sam rejoiced to hear Applause so sweet to a
parent's ear; And blessed them both in thought and word The lovely
boy, and the Wondrous Bird. He also declared to Zal that he was
ashamed of the crime of which he had been guilty, and that he
would endeavor to obliterate the recollection of the past by treating
him in future with the utmost respect and honor. When Minuchihr
heard from Zabul of these things, and of Sam's return, he was
exceedingly pleased, and ordered his son, Nauder, with a splendid
Istakbal? to meet the father i This custom is derived from the
earliest ages of Persia, and has been continued down to the present
times with no abatement of its pomp or splendor. Mr. Morier thus
speaks of the progress of the Embassy to Persia : "An Istakbal
composed of fifty horsemen of our Mehmandar's tribe
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298 THE SACRED BOOKS and son on their approach to the

city. They were surrounded by warriors and great men, and Sam
embraced the first moment to introduce Zal to the king. Zal humbly
kissed the earth before the king, And from the hands of Minuchihr
received A golden mace and helm. Then those who knew The stars
and planetary signs were told To calculate the stripling's destiny;
And all proclaimed him of exalted fortune, That he would be
prodigious in his might, Outshining every warrior of the age.
Delighted with this information, Minuchihr, seated upon his throne,
with Karun on one side and Sam on the other, presented Zal with
Arabian horses, and armor, and gold, and splendid garments, and
appointed Sam to the government of Kabul, Zabul, and Ind. Zal
accompanied his father on his return; and when they arrived at
Zabulistan, the most renowned instructors in every art and science
were collected together to cultivate and enrich his young mind. In
the meantime Sam was commanded by the King to invade and
subdue the Demon provinces of Karugsar and Mazinderan; and Zal
was in consequence left by his father in charge of Zabulistan. The
young nursling of the Simurgh is said to have performed the duties
of sovereignty with admirable wisdom and discretion, during the
absence of his father. He did not pass his time in idle exercises, but
with zealous delight in the society of accomplished and learned men,
for the purpose of becoming familiar with every species of
knowledge and acquirement. The city of met us about three miles
from our encampment; they were succeeded as we advanced by an
assemblage on foot, who threw a glass vessel filled with sweetmeats
beneath the envoy's horse, a ceremony which we had before
witnessed at Kauzeroon, and which we again understood to be an
honor shared with the King and his sons alone. Then came two of
the principal merchants of Shiraz, accompanied by a boy, the son of
Mohammed Nebee Khan, the new governor of Bushere. They,
however, incurred the envoy's displeasure by not dismounting from
their horses, a form always observed in Persia by those of lower
rank, when they met a superior. We were thus met by three
Istakbals during the course of the day."
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 299 Zabul, however, as a

constant residence, did not entirely satisfy him, and he wished to
see more of the world; he therefore visited several other places, and
proceeded as far as Kabul. Here he wooed and, after heroic
adventures, won Rudabeh, daughter of the king Mihrab. Mihrab
consulted his astrologers, and was informed that the offspring of Zal
and Rudabeh would be a hero of matchless strength and valor. Zal,
on his return to Kabul, had an interview with Rudabeh, who
welcomed him in the most rapturous terms: " Be thou forever blest,
for I adore thee, And make the dust of thy fair feet my pillow." In
short, with the approbation of all parties the marriage at length took
place. As the time drew near that Rudabeh should become a mother,
she suffered extremely from constant indisposition, and Zal was in
the deepest distress on account of her precarious state. The cypress-
leaf was withering ; pale she lay, Unsoothed by rest or sleep, death
seemed approaching. At last Zal recollected the feather of the
Simurgh, and followed the instructions which he had received, by
placing it on the fire. In a moment darkness surrounded them, which
was, however, immediately dispersed by the sudden appearance of
the Simurgh. " Why/7 said the Simurgh, " do I see all this grief and
sorrow? Why are the tear-drops in the warrior's eyes ? A child will be
born of mighty power, who will become the wonder of the world."
The Simurgh then gave some advice which was implicitly attended
to, and the result was that Rudabeh was soon out of danger. Never
was beheld so prodigious a child. The father and mother were
equally amazed. They called the boy Rustem. On the first day he
looked a year old, and he required the milk of ten nurses. A likeness
of him was immediately worked in silk, representing him upon a
horse, and armed like a warrior, which was sent to Sam, who was
then
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300 THE SACRED BOOKS fighting in Mazinderan, and it

made the old champion almost delirious with joy. At Kabul and Zabul
there was nothing but feasting and rejoicing, as soon as the tidings
were known, and thousands of dinars were given away in charity to
the poor. When Kustem was five years of age he ate as much as a
man, and some say that even in his third year he rode on horseback.
In his eighth year he was as powerful as any hero of the time. In
beauty of form and in vigor of limb, No mortal was ever seen equal
to him. Both Sam and Mihrab, though far distant from the scene of
felicity, were equally anxious to proceed to Zabulistan to behold their
wonderful grandson. Both set off, but Mihrab arrived first with great
pomp, and a whole army for his suite, and went forth with Zal to
meet Sam, and give him an honorable welcome. The boy Rustem
was mounted on an elephant, wearing a splendid crown, and wanted
to join them, but his father kindly prevented him undergoing the
inconvenience of alighting. Zal and Mihrab dismounted as soon as
Sam was seen at a distance, and performed the ceremonies of an
affectionate reception. Sam was indeed amazed when he did see the
boy, and showered blessings on his head. Afterward Sam placed
Mihrab on his right hand, and Zal on his left, and Rustem before
him, and began to converse with his grandson, who thus manifested
to him his martial disposition. " Thou art the champion of the world,
and I The branch of that fair tree of which thou art The glorious root
: to thee I am devoted, But ease and leisure have no charms for me
; Nor music, nor the songs of festive joy. Mounted and armed, a
helmet on my brow, A javelin in my grasp, I long to meet The foe,
and cast his severed head before thee." Then Sam made a royal
feast, and every apartment in his palace was richly decorated, and
resounded with mirth and
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LITERATURE OF THE EAST 301 rejoicing. Mihrab was the

merriest, and drank the most, and in his cups saw nothing but
himself, so vain had he become from the countenance he had
received. He kept saying: " Now I feel no alarm about Sam or Zal-
zer, Nor the splendor and power of the great Minuchihr ; Whilst
aided by Rustem, his sword, and his mace, Not a cloud of misfortune
can shadow my face. All the laws of Zohak I will quickly restore, And
the world shall be fragrant and blest as before." This exultation
plainly betrayed the disposition of his race ; and though Sam smiled
at the extravagance of Mihrab, he looked up toward Heaven, and
prayed that Kustem might not prove a tyrant, but be continually
active in doing good, and humble before God. Upon Sam departing,
on his return to Karugsar and Mazinderan, Zal went with Rustem to
Sistan, a province dependent on his government, and settled him
there. The white elephant, belonging to Minuchihr, was kept at
Sistan. One night Eustem was awakened out of his sleep by a great
noise, and cries of distress. When starting up and inquiring the
cause, he was told that the white elephant had got loose, and was
trampling and crushing the people to death. In a moment he issued
from his apartment, brandishing his mace; but was soon stopped by
the servants, who were anxious to expostulate with him against
venturing out in the darkness of night to encounter a ferocious
elephant. Impatient at being thus interrupted he knocked down one
of the watchmen, who fell dead at his feet, and the others running
away, he broke the lock of the gate, and escaped. He immediately
opposed himself to the enormous animal, which looked like a
mountain, and kept roaring like the Eiver Nil. Regarding him with a
cautious and steady eye, he gave a loud shout, and fearlessly struck
him a blow, with such strength and vigor, that the iron mace was
bent almost double. The elephant trembled, and soon fell exhausted
and lifeless in the dust. When it was communicated to Zal that
Rustem had killed the animal with one blow he was amazed, and fer

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302 . THE SACRED BOOKS vently returned thanks to

heaven. He called him to him, and kissed him, and said : " My
darling boy, thou art indeed unequaled in valor and magnanimity."
Then it occurred to Zal that Kustem, after such an achievement,
would be a proper person to take vengeance on the enemies of his
grandfather Nariman, who was sent by Feridun with a large army
against an enchanted fort situated upon the mountain Sipund, and
who, whilst endeavoring to effect his object, was killed by a piece of
rock thrown down from above by the besieged. The fort,2 which was
many miles high, enclosed beautiful lawns of the freshest verdure,
and delightful gardens abounding with fruit and flowers; it was also
full of treasure. Sam, on hearing of the fate of his father, was deeply
afflicted, and in a short time proceeded against the fort himself; but
he was surrounded by a trackless desert. He knew not what course
to pursue ; not a being was ever seen to enter or come out of the
gates, and, after spending months and years in fruitless endeavors,
he was compelled to retire from the appalling enterprise in despair. "
Now/' said Zal to Eustem, " the time is come, and the remedy is at
hand; thou art yet unknown, and may easily accomplish our
purpose." Eustem agreed to the proposed adventure, and, according
to his father's advice, assumed the dress and character of a salt-
merchant, prepared a caravan of camels, and secreted arms for
himself and companions among the loads of salt. Everything being
ready they set off, and it was not long before they reached the fort
on the mountain Sipund. Salt being a precious article, and much
wanted, as soon as the garrison knew that it was for sale, the gates
were opened; and then was Eustem seen, together with his warriors,
surrounded by men, women, and children, anxiously making their
purchases, some giving clothes in exchange, some gold, and some
silver, without fear or suspicion. 2 The fort called Killah Suffeed lies
about seventy-six miles northwest of the city of Shiraz. It is of an
oblong form, and encloses a level space at the top of the mountain,
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