FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[99]Fatima-ool-Masoomah.[100]This phrase is applied to those slaves acquired in wars with infidels.[101]Tripoli in Syria: the Christians must have been some of the Crusaders.[102]The same principle which subjects slaves to only half punishment for crimes, renders them liable to less suffering from the caprice of the man who marries them. The husband should, strictly speaking, only have the power to pronounce one divorce and a half on a slave: but the fraction puzzled the doctors of the law, and they have agreed it should be two divorces.

[99]Fatima-ool-Masoomah.

[100]This phrase is applied to those slaves acquired in wars with infidels.

[101]Tripoli in Syria: the Christians must have been some of the Crusaders.

[102]The same principle which subjects slaves to only half punishment for crimes, renders them liable to less suffering from the caprice of the man who marries them. The husband should, strictly speaking, only have the power to pronounce one divorce and a half on a slave: but the fraction puzzled the doctors of the law, and they have agreed it should be two divorces.

Departure from Koom—Pool-e-Dellâk—Deryâ-e-Kebeer—Valley of the Shadow of Death—Story of a Ghool—Remarks on Persian Poetry.

From the city of Koom we proceeded to Sooltâneah, where the king was encamped; but I cannot allow my reader to arrive at that place before he has accompanied me to Teheran with the first mission, and heard the account of its reception, and a description of Fettih Ali Shâh and his court, before these became familiar with envoys and travellers from Calcutta, London, Paris, and St. Petersburgh.

Our first stage towards Teheran was to a place called Pool-e-Dellâk, or the Barber's Bridge; which, according to the tale of those who lived at the village in the vicinity, was built by the barber of Shâh Abbas the Great, to save others from a danger which he himself narrowly escaped, of being drowned when crossing this river.

This munificent barber, we were informed, was very wealthy, as many of his profession are in Persia. Their skill in shaving the heads and trimming the beards of kings and nobles, though highly prized, is subordinate to that which they display as attendants at the warm bath. It is on their superior address in rubbing, pinching, joint-cracking, and cleansing the human frame at the hummums that their fame is established. The luxury of the bath in Persia is enjoyed by all, from the highest to the lowest. These baths are always good, and often splendid buildings. They are sought by the lower classes as essential to health in persons who seldom wear, and when they do, seldomer change their under garments. The higher ranks indulge in them to still greater excess, and in their progress through the various apartments of graduated heat, from the outer saloon to the houz or fountain of the inner bath, they are waited upon by differentdomestics, who, besides aiding to undress and dress them, serve them with every species of refreshment. Among these attendants the man of most consequence is the dellâk or barber. For he who has the honour to bathe and shave a king must not only be perfect in his art, but also a man altogether trustworthy; and confidence amongst eastern rulers is usually followed by favour, and with favour comes fortune. This accounts for barbers building bridges in Persia!

I was one day speaking to my friend Meerzâ Aga of the munificence of the barber of the great Abbas, in a manner which implied doubt of the fact. He observed he knew not whether the barbers of the Seffavean monarchs built bridges, but "I do know," he said, "that the Khâsterâsh (literally personal shaver) of our present sovereign has, in the abundance of his wealth, built a palace for himself close to the royal bath at Teheran. Then," said the good Meerzâ, "he is entitled to riches, for he is a man of pre-eminent excellence in his art, and has had for a long period under his special care the magnificent beard of his majesty, which is at this moment, and has been for years, the pride of Persia."

"Well," I replied, "if your personal shaver has built such a mansion, I will no longer doubt the wealth of the barber of Shâh Abbas, for that monarch, though he wore no beard, had, we are told by travellers, and observe from paintings, a noble pair of mustachoes, of which he is said to have been very proud; and the trimmer of which no doubt was, as he deserved to be, a great favourite."

This conversation led to a long dissertation on mustachoes and beards, upon which subject my travels to countries that my Persian friends had never seen enabled me to give them much useful information.

I told them many stories about the Sikhs, a nation dwelling between the territories of Cabool and India, who, devoting their beards and whiskers to the goddess of destruction, are always prompt to destroy any one who meddles with them; and who, from a combined feeling of religion and honour, look upon the preservation of life itself as slight in comparison with the preservation of a hair of their beards.

I next informed them how beards, whiskers, and mustachoeswere once honoured in Europe. I told them an anecdote of the great John De Castro, a former governor of Goa, the capital of the Portuguese possessions in India. He being in want of a considerable loan from the citizens of Goa for a military expedition, was at a loss for an adequate security[103]. His first intention was to pledge the bones of his gallant son Don Fernando, who had recently fallen in battle; but finding, on opening the grave, that the carcass was putrid, he offered, as next dear to his personal honour, a lock of his cherished mustachoes. This security was accepted, but immediately returned with more than the amount required; young and old vying with each other who should show most respect to so valuable a pledge.

The Persians of my audience twisted their mustachoes with a combined feeling of pleasure and pride on hearing this testimony to the value of that ornament of the visage; and Khan Sâhib, who was one of the party, said to me with a smile, "You gentlemen with the mission wear mustachoes in compliance with the prejudices of the Persians; but is it true that many officers of your cavalry now wear them, and that they are again likely to become popular in England?" I said, perhaps they might; adding, I had no doubt that would be the case, if there appeared the slightest chance of their ever turning to account in the money-market, like those of John de Castro.

But I must quit this curious and interesting subject to proceed with my narration. At Pool-e-Dellâk the Elchee received letters from the prime minister Hajee Ibrahim, congratulating him upon his near approach to the capital. "My house," the Hajee wrote, "is assigned for your residence; and I am to be honoured by having you as my guest as long as you remain at the abode of sovereignty."

The minister also addressed letters to the mehmandar and to the secretaries of the Elchee, to inquire the exact time of his intended entry into Teheran, and to learn the hours at which he took his meals, the dishes of which he was fondest, and every other minute particular that could enable him to perform the task he had undertaken to his own satisfaction and that of the king, whom he represented as very anxious that every thing should be done to honour and please the British representatives.

From the Barber's Bridge to our next stage was nearly fifty miles. We crossed a salt desert,[104]which Hajee Hoosein informed me, as he handed me the long snake of the kelliân, was once a sea; but at the birth of Mahomed it dried up, and thus became one of the many miracles to testify the importance to the world of that auspicious event.

The change of surface, from a crust of white clay impregnated with salt, to a stony plain, indicated that we had passed the desert. We immediately afterwards came to a rugged and broken road, through the most frightful precipices and ravines I had ever seen. "I wish these ravines had been made smooth at your prophet's birth," I said to my friend the Hajee, who continued riding along with me. "Here also," said he, in a half alarmed voice, "a miracle was effected, but it was not completed. This dreadful place is called the 'Valley of the Angel of Death.'[105]That terrific minister of God's wrath, according to tradition, has resting-places upon the earth, and this is one of his favourite abodes. He is surrounded by ghools, horrid beings, who, when he takes away life, feast upon the carcasses.

"The natural shape of these monsters," said Hajee Hoosein, "is terrible; but they can assume those of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform their shapes, but their voices also are altered. The frightful screams and yells, which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines, are changed for the softest and most melodious notes; unwary travellers, deluded by the appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms, and charmed by the music, of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction.

"The number of these ghools," said the Hajee, "has greatly decreased since the birth of the prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in sincerity of faith. But, what is that?" said he, spurring his horse, and upsetting the top of the kullean which he had in his hand, while he repeated aloud the name of Mahomet, which now resounded through the line. I was myself not a little startled at seeing a camel, which is one of the shapes the ghools take, but found, on recovering from my momentary alarm, that it was one of our own, which, trying to pass a little to the right of our path, had fallen over a precipice with its load.

When the Hajee rejoined me, he was far from being convinced that the camel which had fallen was the same he had at first seen. "It was probable," he said, "that a ghool, by the shape he assumed, had enticed our animal to follow him, and the latter would certainly have been lost but for my presence of mind and timely exclamations. These creatures," he added, "are the very lowest of the supernatural world, and, besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and consequently often imposed upon by artful men. I will recount you," he said, "a story that is well authenticated, to prove that what I say is just." I told him I was all attention, and he commenced his tale.

"You know," said he, "that the natives of Isfahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute people upon earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone at night through this dreadful valley. He was a man of ready wit, and fond of adventures, and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought him through a hundred scrapes and perils that would have embarrassed or destroyed your simple man of valour.

"This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had heard many stories of the ghools of the 'Valley of the Angel of Death,' and thought it likely he might meet one. He prepared accordingly, by putting an egg and a lump of salt in his pocket. He had not gone far amidst the rocks we have just passed, when he heard a voice crying 'Holloa, Ameen Beg Isfahânee! you are going the wrong road, you will lose yourself; come this way; I am your friend Kerreem Beg; I know your father, old Kerbela Beg, and the street in which you were born.' Ameen knew well the power the ghools had of assuming the shape of any person they choose;and he also knew their skill as genealogists, and their knowledge of towns as well as families; he had therefore little doubt this was one of those creatures alluring him to destruction. He, however, determined to encounter him, and trust to his art for his escape.

"'Stop, my friend, till I come near you,' was his reply. When Ameen came close to the Ghool, he said, 'You are not my friend Kerreem, you are a lying demon, but you are just the being I desired to meet. I have tried my strength against all the men and all the beasts which exist in the natural world, and I can find nothing that is a match for me. I came therefore to this valley in the hope of encountering a ghool, that I might prove my prowess upon him.'

"The Ghool, astonished at being addressed in this manner, looked keenly at him, and said, 'Son of Adam, you do not appear so strong.' 'Appearances are deceitful,' replied Ameen, 'but I will give you a proof of my strength. There,' said he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, 'this contains a fluid; try if you can so squeeze it, that it will flow out.' The Ghool took the stone, but after a short attempt returned it, saying 'the thing is impossible.' 'Quite easy,' said the Isfahânee, taking the stone and placing it in the hand in which he had before put the egg: 'Look there!' and the astonished Ghool, while he heard what he took for the breaking of the stone, saw the liquid run from between Ameen's fingers, and this apparently without any effort.

"Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the stone upon the ground while he picked up another of a darker hue. 'This,' said he, 'I can see contains salt, as you will find if you can crumble it between your fingers;' but the Ghool looking at it confessed he had neither knowledge to discover its qualities, nor strength to break it. 'Give it me,' said his companion impatiently, and having put it into the same hand with the piece of salt, he instantly gave the latter all crushed to the Ghool, who seeing it reduced to powder, tasted it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the skill and strength of this wonderful man. Neither was he without alarm lest his strength should be exerted against himself, and he saw no safety in resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had warned him, that if he commencedany such unfair dealing, he would instantly slay him; for ghools, though long-lived, are not immortal.

"Under such circumstances he thought his best plan was to conciliate the friendship of his new companion, till he found an opportunity of destroying him.

"'Most wonderful man,' he said, 'will you honour my abode with your presence; it is quite at hand: there you will find every refreshment; and after a comfortable night's rest you can resume your journey.'

"'I have no objection, friend Ghool, to accept your offer; but mark me, I am, in the first place, very passionate, and must not be provoked by any expressions which are in the least disrespectful; and in the second, I am full of penetration, and can see through your designs as clearly as I saw into that hard stone in which I discovered salt; so take care you entertain none that are wicked, or you shall suffer.'

"The Ghool declared that the ear of his guest should be pained by no expression to which it did not befit his dignity to listen; and he swore by the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death, that he would faithfully respect the rights of hospitality and friendship.

"Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the Ghool through a number of crooked paths, rugged cliffs, and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave, which was dimly lighted. 'Here,' said the Ghool, 'I dwell, and here my friend will find all he can want for refreshment and repose.' So saying, he led him to various apartments, in which were hoarded every species of grain, and all kinds of merchandise, plundered from travellers who had been deluded to this den, and of whose fate Ameen was too well informed by the bones over which he now and then stumbled, and by the putrid smell produced by some half consumed carcasses.

"'This will be sufficient for your supper, I hope,' said the Ghool, taking up a large bag of rice; 'a man of your prowess must have a tolerable appetite.' 'True,' said Ameen, 'but I eat a sheep and as much rice as you have there before I proceeded on my journey. I am, consequently, not hungry, but will take a little lest I offend your hospitality.' 'I must boil itfor you,' said the demon; 'you do not eat grain and meat raw, as we do. Here is a kettle,' said he, taking up one lying amongst the plundered property. 'I will go and get wood for a fire, while you fetch water with that,' pointing to a bag made of the hides of six oxen.

"Ameen waited till he saw his host leave the cave for the wood, and then with great difficulty he dragged the enormous bag to the bank of a dark stream which issued from the rocks at the other end of the cavern, and after being visible for a few yards disappeared under ground.

"How shall I, thought Ameen, prevent my weakness being discovered; this bag I could hardly manage when empty, when full it would require twenty strong men to carry it; what shall I do? I shall certainly be eaten up by this cannibal Ghool, who is now only kept in order by the impression of my great strength. After some minutes' reflection, the Isfahânee thought of a scheme, and began digging a small channel from the stream, towards the place where his supper was preparing.

"'What are you doing?' vociferated the Ghool, as he advanced towards him; 'I sent you for water to boil a little rice and you have been an hour about it. Cannot you fill the bag and bring it away?' 'Certainly I can,' said Ameen. 'If I were content, after all your kindness, to show my gratitude merely by feats of brute strength, I could lift your stream if you had a bag large enough to hold it; but here,' said he, pointing to the channel he had begun, 'here is the commencement of a work in which the mind of a man is employed to lessen the labour of his body. This canal, small as it may appear, will carry a stream to the other end of the cave, in which I will construct a dam that you can open and shut at pleasure, and thereby save yourself infinite trouble in fetching water. But pray let me alone till it is finished,' and he began to dig. 'Nonsense,' said the Ghool, seizing the bag and filling it; 'I will carry the water myself, and I advise you to leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me, that you may eat your supper and go to sleep; you may finish this fine work if you like it to-morrow morning.'

"Ameen congratulated himself on this escape, and was not slow in taking the advice of his host. After having eat heartilyof the supper that was prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the richest coverlets and pillows, which were taken from one of the store-rooms of plundered goods. The Ghool, whose bed was also in the cave, had no sooner laid down than he fell into a sound sleep. The anxiety of Ameen's mind prevented him from following his example: he rose gently, and having stuffed a long pillow into the middle of this bed, to make it appear as if he were still there, he retired to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the proceedings of the Ghool. The latter awoke a short time before daylight, and rising, went, without making any noise, towards Ameen's bed, where not observing the least stir, he was satisfied that his guest was in a deep sleep, so he took up one of his walking sticks, which was in size like the trunk of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he supposed to be Ameen's head. He smiled not to hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him of life; but to make sure of his work, he repeated the blow seven times. He then returned to rest, but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when Ameen, who had crept into the bed, raised his head above the clothes and exclaimed, 'Friend Ghool, what insect could it be that has disturbed me by its tapping? I counted the flap of its little wings seven times on the coverlet. These vermin are very annoying, for though they cannot hurt a man, they disturb his rest!'

"The Ghool's dismay on hearing Ameen speak at all was great, but that was increased to perfect fright when he heard him describe seven blows, any one of which would have felled an elephant, as seven flaps of an insect's wing. There was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a man, and he soon afterwards arose and fled from the cave, leaving the Isfahânee its sole master.

"When Ameen found his host gone, he was at no loss to conjecture the cause, and immediately began to survey the treasures with which he was surrounded, and to contrive means for removing them to his home.

"After examining the contents of the cave, and arming himself with a matchlock, which had belonged to some victim of the Ghool, he proceeded to survey the road. He had, however only gone a short distance when he saw the Ghool returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. Ameen'sknowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. 'Take that,' said he to the fox, aiming a ball at him from his matchlock, and shooting him through the head; 'take that for your not performing my orders. That brute,' said he, 'promised to bring me seven ghools, that I might chain them, and carry them to Isfahan, and here he has only brought you, who are already my slave.' So saying, he advanced towards the Ghool; but the latter had already taken to flight, and by the aid of his club bounded so rapidly over rocks and precipices, that he was soon out of sight.

"Ameen having well marked the path from the cavern to the road, went to the nearest town and hired camels and mules to remove the property he had acquired. After making restitution to all who remained alive to prove their goods, he became, from what was unclaimed, a man of wealth, all of which was owing to that wit and art which ever overcome brute strength and courage."

I was pleased with this tale, first as it bore so near a resemblance to some parts of my earliest favourite, Jack the Giant Killer; and next as the last incident of the fox bringing back the Ghool was an exact copy of the story of the Goat and the Lion in the celebrated Hindu work, the Pancha Tantra.

The goat, according to the Hindu tale, took shelter during a storm in the den of a lion; when he saw no chance of escape, he terrified the king of the beasts by boasting of a celestial origin, and telling him he had been condemned before he could return to Heaven to eat ten elephants, ten tigers, and ten lions. He had, he said, eaten every kind of animal but the lion; and saying this, he marched up to the astonished monster, who fled by a back way from his den. The lion in his flight met a fox, and described to him the appearance of the goat (an animal he had never seen before), his horns, his strange beard, and above all, his boasting language. The fox laughed, and told his majesty how he had been tricked. They went back together, and met the goat at the entrance of the den. The latter at once saw his danger, but his wits did not forsake him. "What conduct is this, you scoundrel?" said he to the fox: "I commanded you to get ten lions, and here you have only brought me one;" sosaying, he advanced boldly, and the lion, again frightened by his words and actions, fled in terror, allowing the goat to return quietly to his home.

I narrated this story to my Persian friend, saying, "This proves to me what I have long conjectured, that the greater part of your tales are taken literally from the Hindus." "Is it not as likely they have been stolen from us?" was his reply. "No," said I; "for their works in which these tales are written are much older than any you have." "That may be," said he, "but they are not older than Keiomerth, Housheng, or Jemsheed. These were the glorious days of Persia, and no doubt it was in their time the wily Hindus stole our stories; and if our conquering swords have since made us masters of India, and we have plundered a few tales along with other articles, why we have only recovered our own."

Khan Sâhib, who had been riding along with us, smoking his kelliân, but who had not as yet spoken a word, now, with much gravity, took up the conversation. "I have listened," said he, "with great attention to Hajee Hoosein's most wonderful tale of the Ghool, and," addressing me, "to your supplement about a goat, a fox, and a lion. I shall store what I have heard in my memory for the benefit of my excellent grandmother, whom it is my duty to amuse. These tales shall also be given word for word to my little children, who will no doubt be as much delighted as I have been, to hear how a stupid monster was outwitted by a lying rogue, and how an impudent goat frightened a valiant lion."

"The dispute," said Khan Sâhib, "regarding the invention of such sublime productions, no doubt involves matter deeply associated with the fame of the renowned empires of India and Persia; and, in the present dearth of that article, I do think they are right in claiming all they can for their ancestors."

"I quite understand, my good friend," said I, "the contempt you bestow upon the nursery tales with which the Hajee and I have been entertaining each other; but, believe me, he who desires to be well acquainted with a people will not reject their popular stories or local superstitions. Depend upon it, that man is too far advanced into an artificial state of society who is astranger to the effects which tales and stories like these have upon the feelings of a nation; and his opinions of its character are never likely to be more erroneous than when, in the pride of reason, he despises such means of forming his judgment."

"Well, well," said Khan Sâhib, "there may be some truth in what you say; and I am the more inclined to believe it, as all the learning and philosophy which my good father endeavoured to instil into me never wholly eradicated my early predilection for such stories. I wish not to dispute the claim of our Indian neighbours to the merit of inventing those maxims of wisdom, which have been delivered to posterity through the mouths of cats, monkeys, goats, parrots, foxes, jackalls, and lions. But," added he, "as far as the reputation of the creative genius of Persia is concerned, I shall remain content with the wonders of the Shâh-nâmeh, told as they are in the language of the immortal Firdousee."

Though I could not give up my fondness for fables, I was quite ready to concur with my friend in his admiration of Firdousee, and nothing more was necessary to make him dilate upon this favourite work. His memory is extraordinary; and while I listened with pleasure to his recitation of several of the most ancient, and at the same time most beautiful passages of Persian poetry, I was instructed by his critical remarks, for he combines, with a knowledge of the European taste for simplicity, a love for Asiatic splendour of diction; and is particularly versed in those allusions in which their poetry abounds. He recited to me, from the Shâh-nâmeh, the greater part of the episode of the combats between Roostem and his unknown son Soohrâb.

This episode, in the first lines of which the poet tells his reader, "It is a tale full of the waters of the eye,"[106]is perhaps one of the greatest efforts of Firdousee's genius; and he rises even above himself in the relation of the death of Soohrâb and the insanity of his distracted mother.

The effect produced on the unhappy princess by the account of her son's death is instantaneous. She sets fire to her palace, desiring, when he who constituted her sole object in life was gone, to perish amid that splendour, which she salued on his account alone. Torn from the flames by her attendants, she commanded them to bring the body of her son, his horse, his arms, and his clothes.

"She kissed the horse's forehead, she bathed its hoofs with her tears; she clothed herself in the blood-stained garments of her son, she drew his bow, she wielded his lance, his sword, and his mace; and these fond and frantic actions were continued till nature was overpowered, and the distracted mother departed to join her beloved Soohrâb."

No translation in verse can convey to the mere English reader any just impression of the whole poem of the Shâh-nâmeh. The idiom in which it is written, and the allusions and metaphors with which it abounds, are too foreign to our language and taste to admit of success in such an undertaking; but a prose translation of this great work is a desideratum, and select passages might bear a poetical form. He, however, who attempts such a task, will not be successful unless possessed of a genius that raises him above the mechanical effort of a versifier. If ever such a translator devote himself to the beauties of this poem, he will find much to gratify himself and others.

I have before given a specimen of Firdousee's power in describing a battle; but though this is a species of composition in which the Persians consider him to excel, I have been more pleased with him when he strikes a softer and more harmonious note. His tales of love are often delightful, and nothing can exceed some of his descriptions of scenery.

I had long entertained this opinion, but was confirmed in it by a passage which Khan Sâhib recited to me, after concluding the story of Soohrâb. It was an account of the events which took place when Siyâvesh was nominated by Afrâsiâb to govern the empire of Cheen. The young prince, anxious to enjoy with his beautiful bride Feeringheesh every luxury which this world could afford, sent persons in every direction over his extensive territories, to select the most agreeable and salubrious spot, that he might there fix his residence. The choice fell upon the city of Kung, which is represented to be a perfect terrestrial paradise. One line in the description of this favoured spot struck me as an instance of the power of a poet to seize the finest shades of distinction that belong to language, and to convey by such termsthe most correct idea to the mind. Speaking of the climate of Kung, Firdousee says,

"Its warmth was not heat, and its coolness was not cold."[107]

I expressed to Khan Sâhib my admiration of this line, adding my regret that a poet who could write with such simplicity and beauty should indulge so often in forced metaphor, and hyperbolical phrases.

"Why," said my little friend, "I really think your quarrelling with Firdousee, because he wrote according to the taste of the nation to which he belonged, is something like finding fault with the Persians because they do not wear cocked hats and tight pantaloons, instead of lamb's-wool caps and loose trowsers. They delight, and ever have done, in those conceits and images which offend you." "But yet," said I, "Sâdee is a great favourite, and he is almost always simple and clear in his style."

"Sâdee," said Khan Sâhib, "has, as you state, a great reputation in Persia, but it is rather as a wise man and a moralist, than a poet. He seeks by fiction to adorn, not encumber truth; and the admiration of his reader is invariably given to the sentiment more than to the language in which it is clothed.

"As a proof," continued my friend, "that this is just, let us take two stanzas. In the first of these Sâdee thus describes himself:

'The snows of age rest upon my head,Yet my disposition still makes me young.'[108]

In these lines, marked as they are by simplicity and beauty, the thought, not the expression, is what we most admire. In the second, when addressing sovereigns, he says,

'Be merciful, and learn to conquer without an armySeize upon the hearts of mankind, and be acknowledged the world's conqueror.'[109]

The boldness and sublimity of the lesson conveyed in this couplet predominates over the poetry, and this is the case throughout the works of Sâdee. How different are the sweet and musical strains of Hâfiz! whose whole fame rests upon the creative fancy of his imagination, and the easy flow of his numbers. He delights us by the very scorn with which he rejects all sobriety of thought, and all continuity of subject. As a poet he is one of the first favourites of his countrymen, whose enthusiastic admiration is given to passages in his works that your taste would condemn; for instance, when referring to the fiction which relates that the tulip first sprung up in the soil which was moistened with the blood of Ferhâd, the celebrated lover of Sheereen, he says,

'Perhaps the tulip feared the evils of destiny,Thence, while it lives, it bears the wine-goblet on its stalk.'[110]

"No conceit can be more fanciful, and you will perhaps add, more extravagant; but this stanza is most particularly admired by the Persians, much more so than a succeeding one in the same ode, where the poet, with a simplicity and feeling that will delight you, gives the reason for not having left his native place.

'They will not allow me to proceed upon my travels,Those gentle gales of Moselláy,That limpid stream of Rooknâbâd.'[111]

"Hâfiz," said Khan Sâhib, "has the singular good fortune of being alike praised by saints and sinners. His odes are sung by the young and the joyous, who, by taking them in the literal sense, find nothing but an excitement to pass the spring of life in the enjoyment of the world's luxuries; while the contemplative sage, considering this poet as a religious enthusiast, attaches a mystical meaning to every line, and repeats his odes as he would an orison. At the time of his death," continued my friend, "there were many who deemed his works sinful and impious. These went so far as to arrest the procession of his funeral. The dispute rose high, and the parties were likely to come to blows, when it was agreed that a fâl, or lot, should be taken from his book. If that were favourable to religion, his friends were to proceed; but if calculated to promote vice, they promised not to carry his body to the sacred ground appropriated for its reception.

"The volume of odes was produced, and it was opened by a person whose eyes were bound, seven pages were counted back, when the heaven-directed finger pointed to one of his inspired stanzas,

'Withdraw not your steps from the obsequies of Hâfiz:Though immersed in sin he will rise into paradise.'[112]

"The admirers of the poet shouted with delight, and those who had doubted joined in carrying his remains to a shrine near Shiraz, where, from that day to this, his tomb is visited by pilgrims of all classes and ages."

I found my friend Khan Sâhib, however partial from his habits to a literal interpretation of many passages, dwelt upon others that he deemed mystical with all the rapture of a Soofee. I asked him if he considered Hâfiz equal in this description of poetry to the celebrated author of the Mesnevee, who is usually called the Moollâh of Room?[113]"Certainly not," was his reply; "there is a depth and sublimity in the Mesnevee, which is equalled by no poet of this class. But I will repeat, in answer to your question, the observation of a famous Persian critic.

"A friend asked him how it happened that the two most celebrated Persian Soofee poets should differ so much in their description of love? Hâfiz, in the commencement of his work, observes:

'Love at first sight appeared easy, but afterwards full of difficulties.'[114]

The author of the Mesnevee, in exact opposition, says,

'Love at first resembles a bloody murderer,That he may alarm all who are without his pale.'[115]

"'Poor Hâfiz,' said the critic, shaking his head, 'did not find out till the last, what the wiser Moollâh saw at a glance.'"

I was proceeding to make some further observations, when the sound of music and the appearance of the neighbouring villagers with their chiefs announced that we were near our encampment, and both Khan Sâhib and myself were obliged to take our places in the order of march, which was always formed when we met such parties.

FOOTNOTES:[103]These facts are mentioned in the Introduction to Mickle's translation of the Lusiad.[104]This desert is called, where we crossed it, Deryâ-e-Kebeer, or Kemeen which signifies a desert; and the term Deryâ, which means the ocean, being prefixed, is a proof of the truth of the popular belief of this having been once a sea.[105]Melek-ool-Mout derrat.[106]"Yekee dâstân poor ab-e-cheshem."[107]Gherm-esh ne-ghermee bood, oo serd-esh ne-serd[108]Berf-e-peeree meenesheened ber sêr-emHem-choon-ân teba-em jevânee kooned.[109]Rehim koon oo bee fouj der teskeen bâshDilhâ-e-âlem gheer oo shâh-e-âlem-gheer bâsh.[110]Meger kih lâleh be-dânist bee-wefâ-e-deherKih tâ be-zâd oo be-shood jâm-e-mei z' kef-ne-nihâd.[111]Ne meedihend ijâzet me-ra be-seir-oo-SeferNeseem-e-bâd-e-moosellâ we âb-e-Rooknâbâd.[112]Kedem dereegh medâr ez jinâza-e-Hâfiz.Kih ger-chih gherek-e-goonâh est meereved be-bihisht.[113]Turkey.[114]Kih ishk âsân nemood avvel welee ooftâd mooshkil-hâ.[115]Ishk avvel choo ser-khoonee booved,Tâ be-tersend her kih beeroonee booved.

[103]These facts are mentioned in the Introduction to Mickle's translation of the Lusiad.

[104]This desert is called, where we crossed it, Deryâ-e-Kebeer, or Kemeen which signifies a desert; and the term Deryâ, which means the ocean, being prefixed, is a proof of the truth of the popular belief of this having been once a sea.

[105]Melek-ool-Mout derrat.

[106]"Yekee dâstân poor ab-e-cheshem."

[107]Gherm-esh ne-ghermee bood, oo serd-esh ne-serd

[108]Berf-e-peeree meenesheened ber sêr-emHem-choon-ân teba-em jevânee kooned.

[108]

Berf-e-peeree meenesheened ber sêr-emHem-choon-ân teba-em jevânee kooned.

[109]Rehim koon oo bee fouj der teskeen bâshDilhâ-e-âlem gheer oo shâh-e-âlem-gheer bâsh.

[109]

Rehim koon oo bee fouj der teskeen bâshDilhâ-e-âlem gheer oo shâh-e-âlem-gheer bâsh.

[110]Meger kih lâleh be-dânist bee-wefâ-e-deherKih tâ be-zâd oo be-shood jâm-e-mei z' kef-ne-nihâd.

[110]

Meger kih lâleh be-dânist bee-wefâ-e-deherKih tâ be-zâd oo be-shood jâm-e-mei z' kef-ne-nihâd.

[111]Ne meedihend ijâzet me-ra be-seir-oo-SeferNeseem-e-bâd-e-moosellâ we âb-e-Rooknâbâd.

[111]

Ne meedihend ijâzet me-ra be-seir-oo-SeferNeseem-e-bâd-e-moosellâ we âb-e-Rooknâbâd.

[112]Kedem dereegh medâr ez jinâza-e-Hâfiz.Kih ger-chih gherek-e-goonâh est meereved be-bihisht.

[112]

Kedem dereegh medâr ez jinâza-e-Hâfiz.Kih ger-chih gherek-e-goonâh est meereved be-bihisht.

[113]Turkey.

[114]Kih ishk âsân nemood avvel welee ooftâd mooshkil-hâ.

[115]Ishk avvel choo ser-khoonee booved,Tâ be-tersend her kih beeroonee booved.

[115]

Ishk avvel choo ser-khoonee booved,Tâ be-tersend her kih beeroonee booved.

Distant view of Teheran—Demavend—Rhe—Entrance into the Capital—Hajee Ibrahim—Zâl Khan—Terms of Courtesy.

The first distant view we had of Teheran, the modern capital of Persia, was very imposing. It is situated near the foot of Elboorz, a mountain of the great range which stretches from Europe to the utmost limits of Asia. This range would appear high, were it not for Demavend, whose lofty peak, rising above the clouds, and covered with eternal snow, gives a diminutive appearance to every thing in its vicinity.

We had seen Demavend at the distance of one hundred miles from its base, but it increased in magnificence as we advanced; and those amongst us who delighted in the pages of Firdousee now planned an early visit to this remarkable mountain, whose summit that poet describes as "far from the abode of man, and near to Heaven." A Persian of our party, called Meerzâ Ibrahim, who had been at Demavend, increased our curiosity by a detail of the wonders we should see when we visited that place. "Amongst others," said he, "is the cave that was once the habitation of the Deev-e-Seffeed, who was slain by Roostem; and if fortunate," he added, "you may catch a glimpse of the Deev's daughter, whose dwelling is on the point of an inaccessible rock, at the edge of which she now and then appears; and is reported, notwithstanding her age, which cannot be less than two thousand four hundred years, to be as active with her distaff, and looking as well as ever.

"Higher up the mountain," continued our informant, "amid rocks and snow, which forbid all mortal approach, dwells Zohâk, the most wicked of kings, surrounded by a court of magiciansand sorcerers; this at least is the belief of the worshippers of fire. But it has been considered as unworthy of credit by the Mahomedan historians of Persia, who, however, do not treat so lightly the record which asserts, that in ancient times, when Menoo-cheher made peace with Afrâsiâb,[116]one of the articles of the treaty was, that Persia was to have all the country in a north-east direction, over which an arrow could be shot from Demavend. A hero, called Arish, ascended to the top of the mountain, and such was his miraculous prowess that he sent an arrow to the banks of the Oxus, a distance of between five and six hundred miles. Monarchs in these days," said Meerzâ Ibrahim, "we are assured were very particular in performing their treaties, and the country was faithfully ceded."

"I have read all the discussions upon this subject," said Meerzâ Aga Meer, who here joined in the conversation. "One Persian historian, who relates this fact, admits that it is incomprehensible, but at the same time adds, that he deems it his duty to give it as received from former writers, who state, that the arrow which was discharged at sunrise did not fall till noon.

"Another author of high reputation informs us, that the 'Festival of the Arrow,'[117]on the 13th of October,[118]which is still kept by the followers of Zoroaster, is in commemoration of this event.

"The arrow about which so much has been said and written," added Aga Meer, "is admitted by almost all to have been of gold. Some philosophers, however, have conjectured that it contained quicksilver and other substances, which, when heated by the sun, added to its projectile force; and we are informed, that the great 'Boo-Ali-seenâ[119]did not consider this feat beyond the compass of human ingenuity."

I concluded this discussion about the wonderful arrow by observing, that some sceptical commentators on this passage of ancient history had given their opinion, that the story of the golden arrow, flying from Demavend to the Oxus, was nothing more than a bold metaphor, to express that the Persians conquered that extent of country by their skill in archery; "But the opinions of such writers," I said, "are rejected by all who prefer plain facts to far-fetched metaphors."

At a short distance from our camp we observed several mounds of earth and ruined walls, which we were told was all that remained of the once famous Ragas of Tobit—the Rhages of the Greeks, and the Rhe of the Persians.

While all who had imagination and a love of antiquity dwelt with delight on the prospect of ascending Demavend, and visiting the ruins of Rhe, the men of business looked only to Teheran, which appeared to me to offer little to the view which was either grand or pleasing. One palace alone attracted any portion of my admiration. It stood near the base of the mountain Elboorz, on a commanding site, and was every way suited for a royal residence.

We were called from our plans and prospects to prepare for the entry of the Mission into the capital; but the ceremonies of the procession were not yet fully arranged. Letters and notes passed every minute; secretaries and confidential messengers went to and fro without intermission. These communications and messages chiefly related to the forms of our reception. The period of entering Teheran had been long fixed by the Elchee, who had consulted an eminent astrologer at Isfahan upon this subject. The wise man, after casting his nativity, and comparing what he found written in the book of his destiny with the object of his Mission, which he had been told was the establishment of friendly intercourse with Persia, declared, by a paper given under his hand, for which he was no doubt well fee'd, "That, provided the Elchee entered the gate of Teheran at forty-five minutes past two o'clock,P.M.on the 13th of November, 1800, success would attend his negotiation, and he would accomplish all his wishes."

Meerzâ Aga Meer, who, like the most enlightened of his countrymen, believed firmly in the occult science of astrology, had the best chronometer in our party intrusted to his care. It was given him because his situation enabled him to ride in the procession sufficiently near the Elchee to prompt him when to go a little faster or slower, in order that the gate of the capitalmight be entered at the exact moment, a point to which the astrologer had attached the greatest importance.

The party who came out some miles to welcome the Elchee consisted of several noblemen, the chief of whom was Nou Rôz Khan Kajir, the Lord of Requests and Commander of the King's Guard.

About six hundred horse, principally royal guards, accompanied this chief. We prepared for their reception by sounding the trumpets and beating the drums of our cavalry and infantry, and putting all the suite, European and native, in regular array.

When the parties were within twenty yards of each other they halted, and Nou Rôz Khan prepared to dismount. The Elchee did the same. The latter poised himself a moment in the stirrup, lest his foot should be on the ground before that of the Persian nobleman, which would have marked inferiority. But the soldier-like movements of Nou Rôz Khan showed at once he was a manly fellow, and no stickler about ceremonies. He not only dismounted with expedition, but hastened, before the Elchee had time to quit his horse, to come forward and welcome the guest of his sovereign.

We had all dismounted at the instant the Elchee did, and after mutual introduction the whole party were again on their march, the Elchee and Nou Rôz Khan riding exactly parallel, and their attendants a little in the rear, nearer or more remote, according to their respective ranks.

On the plain which we passed, before coming to the capital, some of the guards of the king displayed their skill in horsemanship. They threw the Jerreed[120]at each other with excellent aim; and it was often only avoided by extraordinary activity, the horseman sometimes to all appearance throwing himself from his horse, while the jerreed whizzed over him.

Another exercise, called the Doghela-Bâzee, is performed by the rider holding a stick little more than a yard long in his hand, one end of which he throws with great force on the ground, on the near side of the horse when at full gallop; the direction given by this stroke causes it to rebound over the horse's head, and the rider catches it while yet whirling round in the air.

But of all these exhibitions, that which pleased me most was the skill they displayed as marksmen. When at full speed, the rider throws a lemon over his head, and twisting his body completely round to the left, fires at it from the off-flank of the horse,[121]almost always with good aim, and often hitting it. This appeared to me, as combining the different motions of the horse, the rider, and the lemon, quite wonderful, but, like other surprising feats, it is the result of constant practice; for the child in Persia commences this exercise at six or seven years of age, and it is never abandoned, while there is strength left to sit upon a horse and to pull a trigger.

The crowds of people we now saw announced that we were in the suburbs of Teheran. I heard Aga Meer whisper the Elchee, "You have yet ten minutes,—a little slower." "Quicker!" was afterwards pronounced in an under tone. Again I heard "Slower!" then "Now!" and the charger of the Elchee put his foot over the threshold of the gate of Teheran. "Al hamd-ool-illâh! Thanks be to God!" said the Meer, with a delighted countenance; "it was the very moment,—how fortunate!" This joy, and the expression of it, told all to Nou Rôz Khan, who evidently deemed the proceeding as a matter of course; and when he heard the name of the astrologer who was consulted at Isfahan, he seemed to think, after such a happy moment of arrival, there could be no doubt of the fulfilment of his predictions. This sentiment was general among the Persians in our suite. Some of them might have doubted the sincerity of the Elchee's belief in the occult sciences, but even these were pleased at the consideration given to what he deemed their prejudices.

One day after the treaties were concluded, I heard the prime minister say, with a smile, to the Elchee, "You see, with all your European knowledge, of what consequence it is to attend to a Persian astrologer, who instructs you to fight us with our own weapons, the stars and planets."

On entering Teheran, we were conducted through the streets to the house of the prime minister, Hajee Ibrahim. Here Nou Rôz Khan left us; but we were welcomed at the gate of the dwelling by several of the friends and principal members of the minister's family, and we had hardly seated ourselves, when the Hajee was announced as coming to visit his guests.

My curiosity to see this extraordinary man was very great. "There must," I thought, "be something wonderful in the appearance as well as in the mind of that human being, who, by the mere force of his character, has raised himself from the rank of an humble magistrate in the city of Shiraz, to be a 'puller-down and setter-up of kings;' who, without any pretensions to military talent, and without learning sufficient to write a note or read three lines, has overcome heroes, has established sovereigns on the throne of Persia, and by his firmness and wisdom has given a peace and tranquillity to his native land beyond what it has known for a century."

The Persians are a handsome race of men, and fond of decorating their persons. I expected therefore to see Hajee Ibrahim enter elegantly dressed, with a dignified if not an elastic step, with a commanding figure, a clear animated countenance, with features expressive of his superior character: and, above all, with two piercing eyes, distinguished perhaps by that restless wandering from object to object, which indicates the care and anxiety of a man who held power and life by so precarious a tenure as a prime minister of Persia.

We all arose as he was announced, and the Elchee went forward to meet him. Judge of my surprise when I saw, instead of the magnificent personage of my imagination, a heavy-looking man, dressed in very plain clothes, enter the room, and proceed towards his seat, with a rolling of the body that almost approached to a waddle. His features were rather coarse, and hiseyes, though clear, had nothing of the piercing or searching qualities I had anticipated. As to his manners, they did not appear to have changed with his condition, but to be still those of a respectable citizen of Shiraz. I was, I must confess, quite disappointed; but before the half hour expired, which he passed in conversation with the Elchee, my mind had undergone another change, for there was in all he said a good sense, a sincerity, and a strength, that quite convinced me of the justice of the fame he had acquired.

The Hajee's brother, Abd-ool-Raheem Khan, came the day after our arrival to pay his respects to the Elchee. An attempt was made by the steward of the minister's household to obtain more deference for this person than he was from his rank entitled to. "The Hajee," said the politic major-domo, "always gives the seat of honour to Abd-ool-Raheem Khan, who is his elder brother!" "He is right in so doing," said the Elchee; "but this gentleman is not my elder brother." The reply indicated a knowledge of the relations on which precedence was to be given or refused, which terminated the discussion. In came Abd-ool-Raheem Khan, a very fat and dull man, whose merit appeared limited to that of being brother to a prime minister. He took his seat very contentedly; staid half an hour; spoke half a sentence—and retired.

The first night I passed at Hajee Ibrahim's, I was disturbed by a continued mumbling and confused noise in the next apartment, which, upon inquiry, I found proceeded from the extreme piety of its inmate, Zâl Khan of Khisht.

This remarkable man had established a great name in his native mountains, betwixt Abusheher and Shiraz; and he was long distinguished as one of the bravest and most attached followers of the Zend family. When the death of Lootf Ali Khan terminated its power, he, along with the other governors of provinces and districts in Fars, submitted to Aga Mahomed Khan. That cautious and cruel monarch, dreading the ability, and doubtful of the allegiance of this chief, ordered his eyes to be put out: an appeal for the recall of the sentence being treated with disdain, Zâl Khan loaded the tyrant with curses. "Cut out his tongue," was the second order. This mandate was imperfectly executed; and the loss of half this member deprived him ofspeech. Being afterwards persuaded that its being cut close to the root would enable him to speak so as to be understood, he submitted to the operation, and the effect has been, that his voice, though indistinct and thick, is yet intelligible to persons accustomed to converse with him. This I experienced from daily intercourse. He often spoke to me of his sufferings, and of the humanity of the present king, who had restored him to his situation as head of his tribe, and governor of Khisht.

I am not an anatomist, and cannot therefore give a reason why a man, who could not articulate with half a tongue, should speak when he had none at all; but the facts are as stated, and I had them from the very best authority, old Zâl Khan himself.

Some points of no small consequence underwent discussion the day after we reached Teheran. The Persian language is very copious, and has many terms which, though signifying in substance the same, have a shade of difference in the application, which enables those versed in such matters to use them so as to denote the rank and respective relations of the parties who hold intercourse with each other. For instance, the word friendship may be expressed by three or four terms, which imply superiority, equality, or inferiority. The speaker may, by the manner in which he introduces the expression "I have a regard for you"—"I esteem your friendship"—"My duty always attends you"—or, "My service is at your command," mark the respect or relation in which he holds him whom he addresses. These are in Persia, as with us, expressions of courtesy; but in that country the subject meets much more attention than we give it, and especially in all communications with a foreign envoy.

Both the Elchee and his host, Hajee Ibrahim, might have smiled inwardly at the trifling nature of such forms, but the relation in which they stood towards each made it necessary to observe them; and as the terms they used in conversation were likely to serve as a standard to others, it was judged necessary to have a congress of meerzâs or secretaries, skilled in such niceties, to settle this important point.

Two very formal men were deputed by the minister; and Aga Meer and Mahomed Hoosein, the Indian Moonshee, attended on the part of the Elchee. The negotiation was opened on the admitted basis of perfect equality of rank between the parties.Notwithstanding the apparent simplicity of the subject, much discussion ensued. My Indian friend gave me a full account of it. "The minister's meerzâs," said he, "endeavoured to establish points which, though seemingly trivial, would have given a shade of superiority to their master which I would not admit: they rather alarmed Aga Meer, who, being a Persian, could not be expected to stand up against them, at the hazard of giving offence to those of his country who were in power: but what did I care," said Mahomed Hoosein, swelling with the part he had acted at this conference, "for their prime ministers? I know no superiors but my master and the English government.

"They told me," he added, "that by giving now and then a term of respect to Hajee Ibrahim, more than he received, the Elchee would add to the consequence of that minister, and not diminish his own, as they were informed that people in England cared little about such matters. I told them, however, that the Elchee, in all he did or said, considered the impressions he was to make in Persia, not in England, and that he would abandon no claims to respect, even in matters of the slightest word or form, which tended in any manner to affect his representative character with the nation to which he was sent.

"Seeing," said the good Moonshee,[122]"that nothing was to be gained from me, they came at last to an amicable arrangement." The word friendship, which implies perfect equality, may be used in common conversation; but occasionally the terms, "my duty waits upon you," or, "my service is at your command," are to be introduced, with this express provision, that whenever one party in the excess of his politeness uses them, the other is to take the earliest opportunity of doing the same. This rule is also to be particularly observed in the important phrases of "you represented," "you said," or, "you commanded." "You said," is settled as the term of equality; but "you commanded," it is agreed, may be frequently interchanged, as tending to show the great respect the parties entertain for each other.

Possessed of this information, I watched the first interview of those for whom this arrangement was made with no little interest. I noticed that the Elchee replied immediately to the first concession made by Hajee Ibrahim by a similar expression: but when he himself made one some time afterwards, which did not meet with so prompt a return, I was amused to see him retreat upon his terms of equality. This had the desired effect. No more encroachments were made upon his dignity; and from his conduct on this occasion, and others of similar importance, he was no doubt considered by the Persians as a most accomplished diplomatist!

The termination of this battle of words at Teheran, added to that of forms at Shiraz, were happy preparations for the discussions regarding the ceremonies of presentation to the king; but these will be noticed in the next chapter.

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