FOOTNOTES:

"Well," said I, when the Hajee had finished, "I am glad I have heard this story, for it proves your Abbas was, with all his fine qualities, a capricious and cruel tyrant." "No doubt he was," said my friend, "like other men in his condition, spoilt by the exercise of despotic power. He had violent bursts of passion, but these were not frequent; and then he used to be very sorry for what he did when in one of his paroxysms; and what more could be expected from a Shâhin-shâh, or king of kings? There," said he, as we entered Nethenz,—"There is an instanceof the truth of what I say; you see that little dome on the summit of the hill which overhangs the town. It is called Goom-bez-e-Bâz, or the dome of the hawk. It happened one day that this monarch, fatigued with hunting, had sat down on the top of that hill with a favourite hawk on his hand; he called for some water, and a cup was brought from a neighbouring spring; the hawk dashed the cup from the king's hand as he was about to drink; another was sent for, but the bird managed to spill it likewise; a third and a fourth shared the same fate. The monarch, in a rage, killed the hawk. Before he had time to take another cup, one of his attendants noticed that the water was discoloured. This gave rise to suspicions; and the spring was found to have been poisoned with the venom of a snake or some plant. Shâh Abbas, inconsolable at his rashness in destroying the bird which had saved his life, built this dome to its memory, and is said to have often visited it."

After hearing this story, I was obliged, lest I should have more anecdotes of this mighty monarch, to confess that, though not a character exactly suited to my notions, there must be some merit in a human being who, in spite of his ordering a man to be slain because he had an ugly face that frightened a horse, and killing a hawk for spilling a cup of water, had contrived to raise his country to such a pitch of prosperity, that he was beloved, as well as feared, when alive, and spoken of for centuries after his decease as the author of all improvements.

The caliph Hâroon-oor-Rasheed occupies the same place in the stories of the Arabians which Shâh Abbas does among the Persians; but the "Arabian Nights" have made the English reader familiar with the celebrated Commander of the Faithful, which no similar work has done for the sovereign of Persia. The fame of the latter, even in his native country, has not excluded Hâroon, whom I have always found in works on the wisdom, moderation, and justice of monarchs, to occupy a very prominent place in Persian literature.

Aga Meer brought me one day a small tract, containing an account of a visit of Hâroon to the tomb of Noosheerwân, which was, he said, from the lessons it conveyed, given to the youth of Persia to study. I perused it with pleasure; and shall give a translation of a part of its contents, as a specimen both of themoral maxims of this country and the mode in which a knowledge of them is imparted.

"The caliph Hâroon-oor-Rasheed," says the author, "went to visit the tomb of the celebrated Noosheerwân, the most famous of all the monarchs who ever governed Persia. Before the tomb was a curtain of gold cloth, which, when Hâroon touched it, fell to pieces. The walls of the tomb were covered with gold and jewels, whose splendour illumined its darkness. The body was placed in a sitting posture on a throne enchased with jewels, and had so much the appearance of life, that, on the first impulse, the Commander of the Faithful bent to the ground, and saluted the remains of the just Noosheerwân.

"Though the face of the departed monarch was like that of a living man, and the whole of the body in a state of preservation, which showed the admirable skill of those who embalmed it; yet when the caliph touched the garments they mouldered into dust. Hâroon upon this took his own rich robes and threw them over the corpse: he also hung up a new curtain richer than that he had destroyed, and perfumed the whole tomb with camphor, and other sweet scents.

"It was remarked that no change was perceptible in the body of Noosheerwân, except that the ears had become white. The whole scene affected the caliph greatly; he burst into tears, and repeated from the Koran—'What I have seen is a warning to those who have eyes.' He observed some writing upon the throne, which he ordered the Moobids,[85]who were learned in the Pehlevee language, to read and explain. They did so: it was as follows:

'This world remains not; the man who thinks least of it is the wisest.'Enjoy this world before thou becomest its prey.'Bestow the same favour on those below thee, as thou desirest to receive from those above thee.'If thou shouldst conquer the whole world, death will at last conquer thee.'Be careful that thou are not the dupe of thine own fortune.'Thou shalt be paid exactly for what thou hast done; no more, no less.'

'This world remains not; the man who thinks least of it is the wisest.

'Enjoy this world before thou becomest its prey.

'Bestow the same favour on those below thee, as thou desirest to receive from those above thee.

'If thou shouldst conquer the whole world, death will at last conquer thee.

'Be careful that thou are not the dupe of thine own fortune.

'Thou shalt be paid exactly for what thou hast done; no more, no less.'

"The caliph observed a dark ruby-ring on the finger of Noosheerwân, on which was written,

'Avoid cruelty, study good, and never be precipitate in action.'If thou shouldst live for a hundred years, never for one moment forget death.'Value above all things the society of the wise.'

'Avoid cruelty, study good, and never be precipitate in action.

'If thou shouldst live for a hundred years, never for one moment forget death.

'Value above all things the society of the wise.'

"Around the right arm of Noosheerwân was a clasp of gold, on which was engraved,

'On a certain year, on the 10th day of the month Erdebehisht,[86]a caliph of the race of Adean, professing the faith of Mahomed, accompanied by four good men, and one bad, shall visit my tomb.'

"Below this sentence were the names of the forefathers of the caliph. Another prophecy was added concerning Hâroon's pilgrimage to Noosheerwân's tomb.

'This prince will honour me, and do good unto me, though I have no claim upon him; and he will clothe me in a new vest, and besprinkle my tomb with sweet-scented essences, and then depart unto his home. But the bad man who accompanies him shall act treacherously towards me. I pray that God may send one of my race to repay the great favours of the caliph, and to take vengeance on his unworthy companion. There is, under my throne, an inscription, which the caliph must read and contemplate. Its contents will remind him of me, and make him pardon my inability to give him more.'

"The caliph, on hearing this, put his hand under the throne, and found the inscription, which consisted of some lines, inscribed on a ruby as large as the palm of the hand. The Moobids read this also. It contained information where would be found concealed a treasure of gold and arms, with some caskets of rich jewels: under this was written,

'These I give to the caliph in return for the good he has done me; let him take them and be happy.'

"When Hâroon-oor-Rasheed was about to leave the tomb, Hoosein-ben-Sâhil his vizier said to him, 'O lord of the faithful, what is the use of all these precious gems which ornament the abode of the dead, and are of no benefit to the living? Allow me to take some of them.' The caliph replied with indignation, 'Such a wish is more worthy of a thief than of a great or wise man.' Hoosein was ashamed of his speech, and said to the servant who had been placed at the entrance of the tomb, 'Go thou and worship the holy shrine within.' The man went into the tomb; he was above a hundred years old, but he had never seen such a blaze of wealth. He felt inclined to plunder some of it, but was at first afraid: at last, summoning all his courage, he took a ring from the finger of Noosheerwân, and came away.

"Hâroon saw this man come out, and observing him alarmed, he at once conjectured what he had been doing. Addressing those around him, he said, 'Do not you now see the extent of the knowledge of Noosheerwân? He prophesied that there should be one unworthy man with me; it is this fellow: what have you taken?' said he, in an angry tone. 'Nothing,' said the man. 'Search him,' said the caliph. It was done, and the ring of Noosheerwân was found. This the caliph immediately took, and entering the tomb, replaced it on the cold finger of the deceased monarch. When he returned, a terrible sound, like that of loud thunder, was heard.

"Hâroon came down from the mountain on which the tomb stood, and ordered the road to be made inaccessible to future curiosity. He searched for, and found, in the place described, the gold, the arms, and the jewels bequeathed to him by Noosheerwân, and sent them to Bagdad.

"Among the rich articles found was a golden crown, which had five sides, and was richly ornamented with precious stones. On every side a number of admirable lessons were written. The most remarkable were as follows.

First side.'Give my regards to those who know themselves.'Consider the end before you begin, and before you advance provide a retreat.'Give not unnecessary pain to any man, but study the happiness of all.'Ground not your dignity upon your power to hurt others.'Second side.'Take counsel before you commence any measure, and never trust its execution to the inexperienced.'Sacrifice your property for your life, and your life for your religion.'Spend your time in establishing a good name; and if you desire fortune, learn contentment.'Third side.'Grieve not for that which is broken, stolen, burnt, or lost.'Never give orders in another man's house; and accustom yourself to eat your bread at your own table.'Make not yourself the captive of women.'Fourth side.'Take not a wife from a bad family, and seat not thyself with those who have no shame.'Keep thyself at a distance from those who are incorrigible in bad habits, and hold no intercourse with that man who is insensible to kindness.'Covet not the goods of others.'Be guarded with monarchs, for they are like fire, which blazeth but destroyeth.'Be sensible to your own value; estimate justly the worth of others; and war not with those who are far above thee in fortune.'Fifth side.'Fear kings, women, and poets.'Be envious of no man, and habituate not thyself to search after the faults of others.'Make it a habit to be happy, and avoid being out of temper, or thy life will pass in misery.'Respect and protect the females of thy family.'Be not the slave of anger; and in thy contests always leave open the door of conciliation.'Never let your expenses exceed your income.'Plant a young tree, or you cannot expect to cut down an old one.'Stretch your legs no farther than the size of your carpet.'

First side.

'Give my regards to those who know themselves.

'Consider the end before you begin, and before you advance provide a retreat.

'Give not unnecessary pain to any man, but study the happiness of all.

'Ground not your dignity upon your power to hurt others.'

Second side.

'Take counsel before you commence any measure, and never trust its execution to the inexperienced.

'Sacrifice your property for your life, and your life for your religion.

'Spend your time in establishing a good name; and if you desire fortune, learn contentment.'

Third side.

'Grieve not for that which is broken, stolen, burnt, or lost.

'Never give orders in another man's house; and accustom yourself to eat your bread at your own table.

'Make not yourself the captive of women.'

Fourth side.

'Take not a wife from a bad family, and seat not thyself with those who have no shame.

'Keep thyself at a distance from those who are incorrigible in bad habits, and hold no intercourse with that man who is insensible to kindness.

'Covet not the goods of others.

'Be guarded with monarchs, for they are like fire, which blazeth but destroyeth.

'Be sensible to your own value; estimate justly the worth of others; and war not with those who are far above thee in fortune.'

Fifth side.

'Fear kings, women, and poets.

'Be envious of no man, and habituate not thyself to search after the faults of others.

'Make it a habit to be happy, and avoid being out of temper, or thy life will pass in misery.

'Respect and protect the females of thy family.

'Be not the slave of anger; and in thy contests always leave open the door of conciliation.

'Never let your expenses exceed your income.

'Plant a young tree, or you cannot expect to cut down an old one.

'Stretch your legs no farther than the size of your carpet.'

"The caliph Hâroon-oor-Rasheed was more pleased with the admirable maxims inscribed on this crown than with all the treasures he had found. 'Write these precepts,' he exclaimed, 'in a book, that the faithful may eat of the fruit of wisdom.' When he returned to Bagdad, he related to his favourite vizier, Jaffier Bermekee, and his other chief officers, all that had passed: and the shade of Noosheerwân was propitiated by the disgrace of Hoosein-ben-Sâhil (who had recommended despoiling his tomb), and the exemplary punishment of the servant who had committed the sacrilegious act of taking the ring from the finger of the departed monarch."

Hâroon-oor-Rasheed, with all his fame for clemency, generosity,and justice, appears from the very pages written to raise his fame, to have had, like Shâh Abbas, his unlucky moments, when all his virtues were obscured by acts of violent and cruel injustice. Witness his putting to death the celebrated vizier, Jaffier Bermekee, and his vain efforts to rob the memory of that virtuous and great minister of his just fame.

Aga Meer related to me, after we had finished our translation, the following story, which I must add, though I hate dwelling long upon any of these eastern characters, however wonderful.

"Hâroon-oor-Rasheed," said the good Meerzâ, "when he had put to death the celebrated Jaffier Bermekee, not contented with this cruelty, wished to deprive him of those encomiums which the extraordinary virtues of that minister had merited; and he published an order making it death for any of the preachers or public speakers to mention the name of Jaffier. This did not deter an old Arab from descanting with great eloquence on the virtues of the deceased; he was warned of his danger, but despised it; and on being taken and carried to the place of execution, all he asked was to see the caliph for a few minutes. This was granted. The monarch asked him how he came to disregard his laws. 'Had I not praised Jaffier,' said the fearless Arab, 'I should have been a monster of ingratitude, and unworthy the protection of any laws.' 'Why?' said the caliph. 'I came,' replied the Arab, 'poor and friendless to Bagdad. I lodged in a ruin in the skirts of the town, where Jaffier discovered me. Pleased, as he afterwards told me, with my conversation, he paid me frequent visits. One night I was seized and hurried away I knew not whither. In the morning I found myself in a magnificent Hemmâm, and after bathing, was dressed by men in fine robes, who called themselves my slaves. I was then mounted on a horse with costly trappings, and conducted to an elegant palace, where attendants, richly attired, welcomed me as their lord. Recovered from my astonishment, I asked what all this meant. 'The habitation of a Fakeer,'[87]said I, 'suits me better than this place; not a corner of one of its saloons but is sufficient for my lodging; besides, I could not remain happy, even in paradise, if absent from my dear wife and children.' 'Your lordship's family,' said one of the servants, 'are in the inner apartments.' I was conveyed to them, and found their adventures had been similar to mine. They were surrounded by female slaves.

"While we were expressing our mutual astonishment, Jaffier was announced, and I found my old visitor in the ruin, and Jaffier the vizier of the great caliph, one and the same person. I endeavoured to make him change his resolution of raising me to a rank for which I had no desire, and thought my character unsuited: he was however inflexible. 'You conquered me in an argument,' said he, 'on happiness being increased with the increased power a virtuous man possesses of doing good. You shall now have an opportunity of putting in practice all those plans of beneficence to others which have hitherto only employed your imagination.' 'I have ever since,' said the Arab, 'lived in affluence; my friendship with Jaffier only ended with his life: to him I owe all I possess; and was it possible for me to be deterred by death itself from doing justice to his memory?'

"Though the caliph's pride was hurt, he could not withhold his esteem from a man of such courageous virtue. Instead of ordering him to be executed, he endeavoured to gain his admiration by more splendid generosity than Jaffier. 'Take that,' said he, giving him his sceptre, which was virgin gold, studded with rich jewels. 'I take it,' said the grateful and undaunted Arab; 'but this, also, commander of the faithful, is from Bermekee.'"

Before quitting Nethenz I accompanied the Elchee in a ride through its streets and gardens, which are so intermingled as to give it a singular and pleasing appearance: you can scarcely tell whether you are in the town or the country. We saw plenty of the pears and peaches, for which my friend told me it was famous. As to its pretty ladies, they saw us, no doubt, through the trellis-work of their dark veils, while we could only dwell upon their beauties with the eyes of our imagination.

I complained to my friend, Khan Sâhib, of the privation of the innocent pleasure of gazing upon the features of a lovelyfemale; and then I added, "What a mortification must it be for the lady to have her charms denied that tribute of admiration which is their due!" "True," answered my little friend; "it is very hard upon a few, but then think how much numbers owe to that veil, which conceals age and ugliness, as well as youth and beauty. I once," he observed, "fell violently in love with one of these veiled ladies, whom I saw sometimes at a window, and sometimes gliding like a phantom through the streets. She continued, for a month, to occupy all my waking thoughts, and the image of her beauties disturbed my rest. I first cast love-tokens into her windows, in the shape of nosegays; then I persuaded an old woman to pour out all the raptures of my soul at the feet of the object of my devotion. To make a long story short, I was at last promised an interview. I waited with impatience for the moment of anticipated delight. When admitted into the presence of my fair I became wild with joy; I praised her shape, the sweetness of her melodious voice, the captivating graces of her manner, and, above all, her beautiful face. She long resisted my entreaties to remove her veil. This I deplored in the words of Hâfiz, exclaiming,

'O alas![88]O alas! and O alas! that such a moon should be concealed behind a cloud.'

"What with prose, poetry, and flattery," added Khan Sâhib, "I succeeded at last. Would to God I had not! but perhaps it has done me good: for what I saw of my imaginary angel has reconciled me for life to veils and clouds."

As we were talking we arrived at a citadel which was the residence of the old Hâkim, or governor Hajee Abd-ool-Câsim, to whom the Elchee paid a visit. We were received in a room at the top of one of the highest turrets, from whence we had a commanding view of the surrounding scenery. Nothing could be more singular or beautiful. The valley of Nethenz, which is inclosed by mountains, is itself a succession of eminences and small hills. The fruitful gardens, which occupied every spot where there were no houses, extended eight miles. Seldom above one, and never more than two of these gardens, were upon the same level; they either appeared in a circle, converging towards the common centre of an eminence that rose above the others, or were seen sloping in flights along the hills that bordered upon the mountains. Rows of lofty sycamores and spreading walnuts marked the lines of the streets and the divisions of the gardens; and the latter were fenced round with thick mulberry hedges, whose leaves, the Hâkim informed us, fed innumerable silk-worms, the produce of which formed the finest of the silk manufactured at the cities of Cashan and Isfahan.

The sun was shining bright as we gazed upon this enchanting scene, and its beauty was greatly increased by numerous clear streams, which, pouring from the neighbouring hills, either flowed or were conducted among the gardens and orchards, where they appeared lost, till seen glistening through those parts where the foliage was lighter or wholly removed.

The Elchee was quite delighted with the prospect. After remaining for some time abstracted in contemplating its beauties, he turned round to the governor, and with assumed gravity proposed to change stations with him. "I should," said the old Hajee, with a faint smile, "make a bad Elchee; and the pleasure you have enjoyed in looking at this town from that window is the greatest you would ever know if you were its Hâkim." When making this last observation, he shook his head in a manner too plainly indicating that the scene of abundance with which he was surrounded, was to him the source of more trouble than enjoyment.

I mentioned my suspicions to my friend Hajee Hoosein, as he came to me with an evening kelliân. "Ah!" said he, imitating the exclamation of his countrymen on entering the charming vale of Desht-e-Arjun, "Irân hemeen-est! Irân hemeen-est! This is Persia! this is Persia! But God is just, as Sâdee says: he gives fertile fields, roses, and nightingales, with wicked men, to one country, and deserts and screech-owls, with righteous men, to another; and again he tells us, 'It is not the silk-worm but he that wears the silk vest that is to be envied.'"

I was quite satisfied with the meaning and moral of my friend'squotations, though I confess I have looked in vain over the pages of Sâdee to discover them in his volumes. But the Hajee, like many of his countrymen, has such a deference for that inimitable author, that he ascribes all sentiments that appear just to him, as the sole source of human wisdom.

FOOTNOTES:[77]Persian groom.[78]The ancient Hyrcania.[79]In Persia the term rood-khâneh, or the bed of a stream, is the common word for a river—an idiom which has probably arisen from the fact stated.[80]Some of these mirrors exceeded eight feet in length.[81]Mr. Randall, who is here alluded to, was a very ingenious carpenter, who had been in an English man-of-war employed in discoveries. He had been in the habit of mixing with the natives of the places he visited and was on this occasion of great use; for the Persian artizans, employed under his directions, worked with more zeal and readiness from his dressing like them and living amongst them.[82]Fermân means a command, signifies here a letter or mandate addressed by a superior to an inferior.[83]The minarets of the Mahomedan mosques are, like the steeples of our churches, of all sizes; those we visited were of ordinary dimensions.[84]I have been informed by one who had personal means of making the comparison, that he considered the general condition of the Persian peasantry to be fully equal if not superior to that of the same class in Russia or Poland.[85]Moobid is the Persian term for a priest of the fire-worshippers.[86]The name of one of the months in the ancient Persian calendar.[87]Religious mendicant.[88]Ei dereeghâ, ei dereeghâ, oo ei dereegh! kih hem-choo mâh pinhân shoodzeer-e-meegh.

[77]Persian groom.

[78]The ancient Hyrcania.

[79]In Persia the term rood-khâneh, or the bed of a stream, is the common word for a river—an idiom which has probably arisen from the fact stated.

[80]Some of these mirrors exceeded eight feet in length.

[81]Mr. Randall, who is here alluded to, was a very ingenious carpenter, who had been in an English man-of-war employed in discoveries. He had been in the habit of mixing with the natives of the places he visited and was on this occasion of great use; for the Persian artizans, employed under his directions, worked with more zeal and readiness from his dressing like them and living amongst them.

[82]Fermân means a command, signifies here a letter or mandate addressed by a superior to an inferior.

[83]The minarets of the Mahomedan mosques are, like the steeples of our churches, of all sizes; those we visited were of ordinary dimensions.

[84]I have been informed by one who had personal means of making the comparison, that he considered the general condition of the Persian peasantry to be fully equal if not superior to that of the same class in Russia or Poland.

[85]Moobid is the Persian term for a priest of the fire-worshippers.

[86]The name of one of the months in the ancient Persian calendar.

[87]Religious mendicant.

[88]Ei dereeghâ, ei dereeghâ, oo ei dereegh! kih hem-choo mâh pinhân shoodzeer-e-meegh.

Cashan—Scorpions—Câshânee Youth—Village of Sinsin—Plundering Expeditions of the Tûrkûmâns—Account of that Tribe—Wandering Tribes—Visit to the Dwelling of Mihrâb Khan Afshâr—Account of his Family and Adherents—Anecdote of Kerreem Khan.

Cashan, to which we went from Nethenz, is situated on the verge of a desert, and no city can present a more uninviting aspect. We were, however, accommodated in the Bâgh-e-Fin, an excellent house and garden, through which there is a clear stream, which, while it refreshes the latter, gives an ample supply of water to the marble-baths belonging to the small but delightful royal residence.

"May you be stung by a scorpion of Cashan," is a common malediction in Persia; and all are agreed that this city is famous for producing the largest and most venomous species of this reptile. We were however assured, that, partaking of that spirit of hospitality which distinguishes the Persian nation, they never sting a stranger.

"This fact," said Agar Meer to me, "is asserted by Ameen Râzee, a respectable writer, and the author of a famous work called the Heft Akleem, or 'Seven Climates.'" "The same respectable writer," said Khan Sâhib, "compares the mud houses and narrow streets of Cashan, to the angelic cheeks of the resplendent Hoorees of Paradise, whose smiles are promised to the faithful. I could almost wish," he added, "to be stung by one of his scorpions, that my mind might be satisfied there was no truth in his comparison; otherwise my dreams of futurity will never be realised."

Agar Meer, who disliked wit when it ridiculed religion, gravely replied to this sally, "Ameen Râzee's facts may be correct,though his metaphors are extravagant." "That may be true," said my Hindustânnee friend, Mahomed Hoosein, "but, according to the fable of the scorpion and tortoise, the former has no power over his nature."

"I have read," said the good Moonshee, "that a tortoise and a scorpion travelled the same road for a considerable distance in good fellowship. The latter, on the ground of this new friendship, asked the former to carry him over a deep stream. The tortoise complied; but what was his surprise to find his companion endeavouring with all his might to sting him! When he had placed him safe on the opposite shore, he turned to him and said, 'Are not you the most wicked and ungrateful of reptiles? But for me you must either have given up your journey, or have been drowned in that stream, and what is my reward? If it had not been for the armour which God has given me, I should have been stung to death.' 'Blame me not,' said the scorpion, in a supplicatory tone, 'it is not my fault; it is that of my nature; it is a constitutional habit[89]I have of stinging!'" "Now," said Mahomed Hoosein, not wishing to offend his brother of the pen, "this fable certainly applies to scorpions in general; those of Cashan may be different: they may have that regard for strangers which Aga Meer has stated them to have, on the authority of Ameen Râzee." "It may be so,"[90]I remarked; and this phrase of doubtful assent put an end (as in Persia it is always meant to do) to all further discussion on the subject.

We left Cashan without any of our party being stung, which is a negative proof in favour of Ameen Râzee and other authors who have eulogized its scorpions; but the point cannot yet be considered as determined. It will no doubt therefore continue to receive, as it has hitherto, the attention of all travellers who possess learning, and are curious in their research after facts of natural history.

The inhabitants of Cashan, like those of Isfahan, are more celebrated as silk weavers than warriors. When Nadir Shâh returned from India he published a proclamation, permitting the followers of his army to return to their homes. It is narrated that thirty thousand of those who belonged to Cashan and Isfahan applied to this monarch for a guard of a hundred musketeers to escort them safe to their wives and children. "Cowards!" exclaimed he, in a fury; "Would I were a robber again for the sake of waylaying and plundering you all. Is not my success a miracle," said he to those around him, "with such a set of dastards in my camp!"

This story and many others were told us as we were sitting in one of the cool rooms of the palace of Fin, commenting on the qualities of the Câshânees.

My old friend Mahomed Shereef Khan Burgshattee told me he had once a convincing proof that a Câshânee might be a brave man. "On returning," said he, "from the pursuit of a small party of plundering Tûrkûmâns, I found that ten of my men had surrounded a fine looking youth, who was on a dry spot in a morass, where not more than two could approach him at a time. He had only a sword and a spear, but refused to yield; inviting his opponents to use their fire-arms, since they durst not fight him on equal terms. Struck with his appearance and courage, I solicited him to surrender, and assured him he should be well treated. 'I know better,' said he, 'than to regard the promises of a faithless Persian, who the moment I was unarmed would maltreat and murder me.' I ordered my men to withdraw to a distance, and after making a vow he should be well used, and leaving my arms on the ground, I rode forward, saying, 'I will confide in you, though you dare not trust me.' The youth, subdued by this action, sprung from his horse, threw down his spear and sword, and hastened to kiss my stirrup; offering at the same time his services, which I accepted.

"I desired him to remount," continued Mahomed Shereef Khan, "and we rejoined my astonished followers. After complimenting him on his courage, I asked where he was born? 'At Cashan,' he said. 'You a Câshânee!' I replied with surprise. 'I am,' said he; 'my father was a silk weaver, and I had just begun to learn his business, being about twelve years of age, when having gone with some companions to amuse ourselves at a distance from the town, we were surprised and carried off by a party of Tûrkûmâns. I was adopted into the family of one of their chiefs, who carefully instructed me in horsemanship andthe use of arms. I have ever since accompanied him in his plundering incursions into Persia and other countries.'

"Now," said the old Mehmandar, "this man continued twenty years with me; he only died about a twelvemonth ago, and maintained till the day of his death the character he had established at our first meeting. This example," he concluded, "satisfies me that it is possible the son of a weaver, if properly brought up, may be a brave man. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt these silk manufactories give bad habits, and spoil many a good soldier."

Our first march from Cashan was to the câravânserâi of Sinsin. We found the village, which had been very flourishing thirty years ago, a complete ruin, with only a few inhabitants. Amongst these was an old man, who gave me an account of the incursions of parties of savage Tûrkûmâns, who year after year laid waste their fields, plundered their dwellings, and carried their wives and children into slavery.

I asked him if no means had been taken to prevent these inroads. "Alas!" said he, "our own country, at the period of which I speak, was in too distracted a state to admit of any such precautions, and we were too weak to defend ourselves against such daring and ferocious men. Besides, they came and vanished in a moment. Thirty or forty mounted robbers and twenty led horses used to surprise us at daylight: all the spoil they could carry, together with women and children, were fastened on the led horses, and in an hour or two they were in full march to their homes, on the eastern shores of the Caspian Sea.

"If we attempted resistance," continued the narrator of this sad tale, "as we sometimes did, they became furious; our houses were burnt, the old and helpless massacred, and all the property they could not bear away was destroyed. Look here," said he, pointing to some scars, "Look at these; I got them in attempting to save my little brother and two sisters from the merciless grasp of these ruthless spoilers. I was left for dead, while my poor father, who was wounded also, had only sufficient life left to reach Cashan, where he expired, after giving intelligence of our fate. Some horsemen were sent in pursuit, but their pampered animals, kept to parade in squares and market-places, could never overtake the trained horses of the plunderers,who used to come two hundred fersekhs[91]and return in ten days.

"But, thank God," he concluded, "if the Kajirs who now fill the throne of Persia have done us no other good, it is no slight blessing to be freed from the ravages of these terrible Yamoots; that is the name of the tribe who made the inroads upon us. They dwell in the plains near Astrabad, and are friends of our royal family, who are natives of that place: besides, now that Persia is settled, they find there is more profit, and less danger, in breeding and selling horses, than in plundering and murdering their neighbours."

I had ten years before seen a good deal of some Tûrkûmâns at Teheran. Their character, and what I learnt of their habits, quite prepared me to believe the melancholy tale which was told me by the old villager, towards whom I showed a sympathy that surprised him; for scenes like these are so common in Persia, that they attract little attention. The fact is, the Tûrkûmâns are only a shade more savage than those tribes of Persian and Tartar origin, who form the military class of this nation, and who, though restrained in some degree of order, when the government is strong, cherish their lawless habits, and are ready at a moment to show them, when invited to do so, by the weakness or distraction of the state.

The Tûrkûmâns[92]have long been familiar to Persian history as depredators. This race of Tartars has small eyes, high cheek bones, thin beards, and robust frames. The women, though with softer features, and some with good complexions, are seldom beauties; and they are generally more valued for their capability of enduring fatigue, and for giving birth to, and bringing up stout children, than for any of those charms and accomplishments which are so highly prized in more civilized society.

During the last century the limits of Persia have been more confined than formerly, and these Tûrkûmân tribes may now be considered more as borderers to that country than as forming part of its population. They appear indeed to have cultivated and fostered all the qualities which might be expected to belong to a race so situated, and have become, in virtue of usage, entitled alternately to claim the privilege of being protected by, or the right of plundering, the kingdoms they divide.

The Tûrkûmâns trace their descent to the great Moghul monarch Aghooz Khan, the son of Kara Khan, the son of Moghul Khan, the son of the Lord knows who. Their great progenitor was famous for his five sons, his bow, and his three golden arrows! At his death he divided the bow, which is the type of power, between the two elder, to whom he consigned his great empire. To each of the three younger he gave an arrow, signifying by that bequest that they and their descendants were to obey their elder brethren; to be chiefs, generals, and embassadors, and to fly at command, as an arrow when directed from the bow. The Tûrkûmâns belong to one of the junior branches of this great family, but they have not hitherto been remarkable for any of the dispositions or qualities likely to render them useful or obedient servants.

I had the account of their origin, as well as many other facts connected with their history, from an old Tûrkûmân called Rahmân Beg, of whom I bought some horses. A short anecdote will give his character. I was anxious to buy a very fine animal he had, but I delayed the purchase from an objection to his head, which was large and ugly. One day as I was commenting on this unsightly member, my friend lost all patience, "What the devil," said he, "do they ride on the head of a horse in your country, that you are so particular as to its size and beauty?"

This rude, but intelligent barbarian, though he could neither read nor write, and had the utmost contempt for Moollâhs (a term which, with him, included all priests and scholars), was as familiar with the history of his own tribe as Mirkhond, or any of the best Eastern historians.

"You have, no doubt," said he to me, "read of the famousSeljûkian Prince Sanjar. That sovereign, not content with an annual tribute of twenty-four thousand sheep which we gave him, wanted to increase the number, and to send one of his own officers to choose from our flocks, instead of trusting to the honour of our chiefs. This we could never put up with; so we fought him, destroyed his army, and took him prisoner. He was for some years set upon a throne every day, and confined in a cage every night; but at last he made his escape; and being a soft-hearted, foolish blockhead, died of grief, from seeing the state of desolation to which we had reduced his favourite province of Khorassan! After this," continued he, "we became the terror of the world, and the name of Tûrkûmân, which had long been despised, was dreaded everywhere. Who has not heard," said he exultingly, "of our princes and chiefs who subdued kingdoms, and plundered empires, under the glorious banners of the white and the black sheep? But these days of sovereignty did not last long; we separated, and have never since done any thing worthy of mention. The tribe of Yamoot," continued my old friend, "to which I belong, remained long unsubdued, and made famous annual inroads into Persia; but the late king, Aga Mahomed Khan, who was a cruel, wily, old rogue, spoiled all that sport. Being well acquainted with our haunts, he made a sudden incursion into our country, slew numbers, and brought away many captives, the majority of whom were women and children."

"The possession of our families," said Rahmân Beg, as he concluded this short history of his tribe, "compelled our chiefs to enter into a compact not to plunder, and they have been obliged to give their children as hostages for its faithful performance. The present king has improved upon the policy of his uncle: a colony of our tribe is established at Teheran; some are in service, and the others, though strictly watched, are permitted to trade. If matters go on in this way our sons will become a set of blackguard horse-dealers, instead of gallant warriors, and their children will be instructed in the art of cheating unwary citizens, instead of the more manly occupation of plundering a rich traveller. We shall have no more fine Persian girls to keep our tents clean, and dress our victuals, nor active fellows to rub our horses, or attend our flocks! What a sadchange! And as to our profits in breeding and selling horses, I have known more money given in one day for the ransom of a nobleman or a wealthy merchant, than our whole tribe can now make by trafficking in cattle for a twelvemonth!"

I asked Rahmân Beg, how he, as a Mahomedan, could reconcile himself to make slaves of persons of the same religion? "What," said he, "do you count these rascally Sheâhs, the Persians, who deny the first four Caliphs, to be of the same religion as we Soonees?—they are vile schismatics." "Then," I observed, "when you made Soonees captives, you did not make them slaves?" "Why! I don't know; I think," he added, laughing, "we should in such case have been compelled to become Sheâhs ourselves; for slaves we must have."

The Tûrkûmâns, of whom Rahmân Beg is a fair specimen, pay little if any regard to religion beyond a few ceremonies. The rites observed at their births, funerals, and marriages, are not essentially different from those of the other wandering tribes in Persia. The courage of this tribe is proverbial, and both the Persians and Afghâns admit their extraordinary prowess. They use bows and arrows, and some few have fire-arms, but the weapon on which they place most dependence is the spear. This is in general from ten to twelve feet long, rudely formed, and with a short piece of steel at the point.

As we were one day looking at a party of the king's guards,[93]each of whom was armed with a sword, a spear, a pair of pistols, and a dagger, Rahmân Beg tossed up his head in contempt, exclaiming, "What is the good of all that arsenal? what can a soldier want beyond a spear and a heart?"[94]

The Tûrkûmâns are fond of music and dancing. The celebrated song of "Koor Ogloo," or The Son of the Blind Man, is chanted when they go to battle, and is said to have a wonderful effect in exciting the courage of this rude race. I asked Rahmân Beg to give me a copy of this song; he could not, but gave me its general purport, and repeated some lines with great animation.

The burthen of the song is the wonderful deeds of the son of a poor blind old man, who employed himself in plundering travellers and caravans, while his father dwelt in the recesses of a wood which lay between two great cities. The prowess of the single arm of the "Son of the blind man" was so great, that hundreds could not withstand it; and when thousands were sent against him, his fleet horse Kerât carried him to a place of security.

The praises of the hero and his horse, the prodigies of valour of the one, the wonderful fleetness of the other, with the descriptions of rich plunder, and beautiful damsels, which abound throughout this song, are quite congenial to the habits of a Tûurkûmân; and I could believe all the feelings, that I was told its recitation produced, from the effect the mere account of it that he gave me had on Rahmân Beg. "Others of the Tartar blood," said my old friend, "admire this fine composition; but a set of fellows who live as they do, are not worthy of such verses; and we also," he added, "if we go on as we are now doing, shall soon be ashamed to hear them sung by our minstrels; who may well cherish these old strains, for we no longer supply them with deeds for new songs of battle!"

I was very anxious to learn all I could of the breed and management of the Tûrkûmân horses, which are so highly valued in Persia. They are of good size, being from fifteen to sixteen hands high, of excellent temper, and of a shape, like that of the highest bred English carriage-horses, lengthy and strong limbed; and often showing a great deal of blood.

The Tûrkûmâns trace all their best horses to Arabian sires; and they believe that the race degenerates, after three or four descents, unless it is, what they term, "refreshed." This makes them most anxious to obtain fine Arabian horses. Rahmân Beg and his brother offered the Elchee a large sum for a very fine animal he had brought from Abusheher, and they seemed greatly disappointed that he would not part with him.

The size of the horses is attributed to the fine pasture lands on which they are reared; and the extraordinary capability of bearing fatigue to their blood, and the manner in which they are trained. They ride them with snaffles, and allow them to go slouching along with their necks loose. They speak with contempt of horsemen who rein up their horses, and throw them on their haunches. "It is taking the animal," saidRahmân Beg to me, "off his natural position; and for what? to get a little readiness[95]in the plain; and for this power of skirmishing, you hurt, if you do not altogether lose, the long walk, trot, and gallop, to which we trust in our forays!"[96]

These plunderers train their horses, as much as we do our racers or hunters. Before they begin their expeditions, they put them into complete condition, and the marches they perform are astonishing. According to their own accounts, some have gone forty fersekhs (140 miles) within twenty-four hours; and it was ascertained on most minute inquiry, that parties of them, in their predatory inroads, were in the habit of marching from twenty to thirty fersekhs (from 70 to 105 miles) for twelve or fifteen days together, without a halt.

Before proceeding on a foray they knead a number of small hard balls of barley-meal, which, when wanted, they soak in water, and this serves as food to both themselves and their horses. It is a frequent practice with them in crossing deserts, where no water is to be found, to open a vein in the shoulder of the horse, and to drink a little of his blood; which, according to their opinion, benefits, rather than injures the animal, while it refreshes the rider. On my appearing to doubt this fact, Rahmân Beg showed me several old horses, on which there were numerous marks of having been bled; and he assured me they never had recourse to phlebotomy but on such occasions as have been stated.

The Eelyâts, or wandering tribes in Persia, are like the Tûrkûmâns, but somewhat less barbarous. They have been often described, and one good picture of this race serves for all, for they are little subject to change; and while every tradition and every work on the ancient history of Persia proves that many of its more southern inhabitants, particularly those of the mountains of Kerman and Lauristan, have been nomades, or wandering tribes, from time immemorial, we find in the Turkish Eelyâts who have overrun the northern provinces, the language, the habits, and the appearance of the Tartar race to which they belong.

The qualities most prized amongst these tribes are courage in men, and chastity in women. The females who dwell in tents wear no veils. They welcome strangers, are very hospitable, and their manner, though confident, is by no means immodest. The Elchee on his return from the first mission, when riding one day near a small encampment of Afshâr families, expressed doubts to his mehmandar, a Persian nobleman, as to the reported boldness and skill in horsemanship of their females. The mehmandar immediately called to a young woman of handsome appearance, and asked her in Turkish if she was a soldier's daughter? She said she was. "And you expect to be a mother of soldiers," was the next observation. She smiled. "Mount that horse," said he, pointing to one with a bridle, but without a saddle, "and show this European Elchee the difference between a girl of a tribe and a citizen's daughter." She instantly sprung upon the animal, and setting off at full speed, did not stop till she had reached the summit of a small hill in the vicinity, which was covered with loose stones. When there, she waved her hand over her head, and came down the hill at the same rate at which she had ascended it. Nothing could be more dangerous than the ground over which she galloped; but she appeared quite fearless, and seemed delighted at having an opportunity of vindicating the females of her tribe from the reproach of being like the ladies of cities.[97]

The wives and daughters of the chiefs, who accompany their relations to cities and towns, have in some degree adopted the customs of citizens; but neither such changes of manners in the ladies, nor the habits acquired by the men, are suffered to dissolve their ties with followers, whose devoted attachment and readiness to adopt their cause, or to revenge their death, constitute their strength and safeguard, amidst all the hazards with which they are surrounded.

The habits and sentiments of this class of people interested me exceedingly; and my anxiety to observe as much as I could of their domestic arrangements, made me delighted on hearing that the Elchee intended a visit to the house of his mehmandar, Mihrâb Khan Afshâr, a man of high family, and who holds an office at court.

The day before we arrived at his house I met him on the march, having a letter in his hand, with the contents of which he appeared highly offended. "I hope you have no unpleasant news," I said. "Nothing," was his reply; "except that I am directed in this mandate from his majesty's minister, to be most careful in protecting the villages and grounds we have to pass, and not take a blade of grass from them. The chief of the tribe to which these lands belong," he added in a rage, "has obtained this order. The scoundrel! But this is another item to the account which I shall some day settle with compound interest."

"You must know," said Mihrâb Khan, seeing I did not quite comprehend him, "this tribe and mine have a long-continued feud. Our lands adjoin; the government is too strong at present to admit of attacking each other openly like brave men; so we endeavour, like sneaking rascals, to do each other all the mischief we can by intrigues and plots at court. They are at present in great favour, and have recently obtained the transfer of a small tribe, whose tents you have just passed, and who were formerly our peasants." "Who are these peasants?" I asked. "Oh," said the Turkish chief, "they belong to one of the old Persian tribes, which it is the policy of the king to break, and so he parcels them amongst us Turks; but that has nothing to do with his taking them from us, and giving them to our enemies."

During this conversation we had reached the summit of an eminence, from which Mihrâb Khan, his eyes glistening with joy, pointed out the ruins of a village. "Look there," said he, "it is twenty-five years since I accompanied my uncle Hâshem Khan to an attack of that village; we completely sacked and destroyed it. The rascals had no Shâhin-Shâh (king of kings) to protect them then. But there is one consolation, these stupid times cannot last for ever; and if I live long enough to give these vagabonds another sound drubbing, I shall die contented!"

The morning after this conversation, we arrived at the fort of Hâshem,[98]a name given to this castle, after the founder, the uncle of our mehmandar. We were met by four nephews of the latter, several of his relations, a troop of his followers, and his little son Shâhverdee, who, though only eight years of age, paid his compliments to the Elchee in a most formal style, and managed with great address a large and spirited horse.

When we entered the fort, we found it completely dismantled, and two of the bastions thrown down. This was done, we were informed, by the jealousy of the king, who disapproved of his nobles having strongholds.

We had no sooner finished a very plentiful breakfast, than our host retired to his inner apartment, and returned, leading in his hand a stout, chubby, red-cheeked boy, between three and four years of age. Of this little fellow, he seemed very proud; there could not be a finer child: he, also, was well trained, and made his obeisance to the Elchee, like a high bred young gentleman, and took his seat near his father. We however managed, though not without some difficulty, to discompose his gravity, and soon discovered, that he was, as his father had described him, a proper Young Pickle.

In introducing me to his relations Mihrâb Khan gave me a short history of his family. "My father," said he, "had two brothers, one older and one younger than himself. Here (pointing to them) are four young men, the grandsons of my eldest uncle, who was head of the family. Their eldest brother is with the king, commanding a body of horse, all of the tribe of Afshâr, and this (turning to an elderly person) is my cousin, the son of my younger uncle.

"My family," said the Khan, "consists of six children, of whom you have seen two: they are all (except one) by the same mother, my wife, the daughter of Fatteh Ali Khan Afshâr, a famous chief, who, on the death of Nadir Shâh (whom you know was of our tribe) aspired to the throne. My good father-in-law, however, lost his life in the attempt to become a king, and I married his orphan daughter, an excellent woman, but who carries her head rather high, as no doubt she has a right to do, from recollection of her father's pretensions! Look!" said he, speaking softly, for the apartment we were in was within hearing of the interior; "look at that youngster at the other end of the room: he is my son. His mother was the daughter of a jeweller at Isfahan, an uncommonly pretty girl. He is a fine lad, but I dare hardly notice him; and he is, you will observe, not allowed to sit within ten yards of the grandsons of Fatteh Ali Khan Afshâr! This is all very proper," he added; "it is attention to the dam, as well as the sire, that keeps the breed good. Besides, the influence of females amongst us Eelyâts is verygreat, and if we did not treat them with respect, matters would not long be right."

Mihrâb Khan next gave me an account of the mode in which their family lands were allotted, and how the disbursements of the respective branches of the family were made. "My father and his brothers lived together," said he, "and we do the same. Our inheritance was equal, and each of the three branches is charged a day's expenditure, successively. Entertainments and imposts are paid in equal shares. We seek by intermarriages to strengthen those ties, which are our only defence against oppression and destruction.

"We are Turks," he concluded, laughing, "and consequently, you may suppose, have often violent quarrels, but the necessity of our condition soon reconciles us again; and we are at present, and will I trust long continue, an united family!"

I remarked in the followers of Mihrâb Khan, as I had done in other tribes, an attachment to their chief approaching to a perfect devotion. It was a love and duty, of inheritance, strengthened by the feelings of twenty generations. Though the superior in general repaid this feeling with regard and protection, I saw many instances of its being considered as much a property as the land, and the inanimate goods and chattels, which he who received it had inherited from his father.

There are few countries which can boast of more examples of devoted allegiance of chiefs to their sovereign, as well as of followers to their chiefs, than Persia: but this will not recommend them to many of my readers. We live in a refined and artificial age, and, vain of our condition, we laugh to scorn feelings which were the pride of our ancestors, and which at this moment form the only ties that preserve order over nine-tenths of the universe.

Allegiance of any description is, according to some philosophers, a folly if not a crime, and quite beneath the dignity of human beings. Others admit that from being a cherished prejudice, it may in some cases have a salutary action; but those who view man as formed by his Creator, and who contemplate the origin of those motives by which he is actuated, will find that the feeling of dependence with which allegiance is associated, and which in the silence of reason often leads to a line of action beneficial to the community as well as the individual, is not theless valuable from being grafted on his weakness; a part of his nature, by the by, requiring much more the care and attention of philosophers than his strength, for that can take care of itself.

Allegiance is the duty a child owes to its parent, for birth, nourishment, and protection. It is that which collected families owe to a chief of their tribe, who is their point of union, and consequently of their security; and in its climax it is that which chiefs and their followers owe to a sovereign, their concentrated attachment to whom is the ground of their safety and their glory as a nation. This feeling gains strength by becoming hereditary. It is associated with the fame of individuals, of families, of tribes, and of empires; it is conservative, it is destructive; but even in its most dreadful action it has in it an ennobling principle, for it is congenial with the most natural, as well as the highest and noblest feelings of the human mind.

The wandering tribes in Persia are not more remarkable for attachment to their chiefs than for the affection relations bear to each other, and the strength of those ties by which every individual is bound to the community of which he is a part.

A Persian friend of mine related to me in illustration of this fact, an authentic and affecting anecdote of the conduct of an old man of one of those tribes during the reign of Kerreem Khan Zend.

Twelve men had been robbed and murdered under the walls of Shiraz. The perpetrators of this atrocious act could not for a long period be discovered, but Kerreem Khan deeming this occurrence so deeply injurious to that impression of security and justice which it was the labour of his life to establish, commanded the officers of justice to persevere in their search till the offenders were detected, threatening them, and others who had heard the cries of the murdered men with vengeance, unless they effected a discovery, which he considered essential to his own reputation.

After some months had elapsed, it was discovered by accident that a small branch of Kerreem Khan's own tribe of Zend, at that time encamped near Shiraz, were the murderers. Their guilt was clearly proved, and all who had been actually engaged in the murder were sentenced to death. Powerful intercession was made that some at least should be pardoned, but the princehad vowed that every man should suffer, and their being of his own favoured tribe made him more inexorable. They had, he said, brought disgrace on him as their sovereign and as their chief, and could not be forgiven.

When the prisoners were brought before him to receive sentence, there was amongst them a youth of twenty years of age, whose appearance interested every spectator; but their anxiety was increased to pain when they saw the father of this young man rush forward, and demand, before they proceeded to the execution, to speak to the prince. Permission was granted, and he addressed him as follows:

"Kerreem Khan, you have sworn that these guilty men shall die, and it is just; but I, who am not guilty, come here to demand a boon of my chief. My son is young, he has been deluded into crime; his life is forfeited, but he has hardly tasted the sweets of life; he is just betrothed in marriage; I come to die in his stead: be merciful! let an old worn out old man perish, and spare a youth, who may long be useful to his tribe; let him live to drink of the waters, and till the ground of his ancestors!"

Kerreem Khan is stated to have been greatly moved by the old man's appeal: he could not pardon the offence, having sworn on the Koran that all concerned should be put to death; and with feelings very different from our ideas of justice, but congenial to those of the chief of a tribe, he granted the father's prayer, and the old man went exultingly to meet his fate. While all around were filled with pity, his son, wild and distracted with grief, was loud in imploring the prince to reverse his decree, to inflict on him that death which he merited, and to save the more valuable life of his aged, devoted, and innocent parent.

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