Travellers and Antiquaries—Wild Ass—Hawking—MÂder-e-SÛlimÂn—Akleed—Mirrors—Mehdee Khan—Isfahan—Persian Citizens and Peasantry—ShÂh Abbas the Great—HÂroon-oor-Rasheed—Nethenz.

The love of travel, visiting the remains of former grandeur, and of tracing the history of ancient nations, which is so common in Europe, causes wonder in the Asiatics, amongst whom there is little or no spirit of curiosity or speculation. Men who live in ill-governed and unquiet communities can spare no time for such objects from the active occupations incident to their place in society. In better regulated and more settled governments, the state, by divesting men of all immediate care respecting life and property, almost compels those of its subjects whose minds are active, and whose time is at their own disposal, to provide for themselves such a portion of vicissitude and trouble as shall overcome that apathy and inertness into which they might otherwise fall. From these motives they court toil and care, and sometimes danger, to make them relish the feast of existence.

Some gentlemen had accompanied the mission whose chief object was to see Persepolis and other remains of ancient splendour. These motives were unintelligible to the Persians. The day we left the ruins, Aga Meer, as we were riding together, expressed his surprise at men devoting their time to such pursuits. "What can be the use," said he, "of travelling so far and running so many risks to look at ruined houses and palaces, when they might stay so comfortably at home?" I replied, with some feeling of contempt for my friend's love of quiet, "If the state of a man's circumstances, or that of his country, does not find him work, he must find it for himself, or go to sleep and be good for nothing. Antiquaries," I continued, "to whose praiseworthy researches you allude, by directing, through their labours and talents, our attention to the great names and magnificent monuments of former days, aid in improving the sentiments and taste of a nation. Besides, though no antiquary myself, I must ever admire a study which carries man beyond self. I love those elevating thoughts that lead me to dwell with delight on the past, and to look forward with happy anticipations to the future. We are told by some that such feelings are mere allusions, and the cold practical philosopher may, on the ground of their inutility, desire to remove them from men's minds, to make way for his own machinery; but he could as soon argue me out of my existence as take from me the internal proof which such feelings convey, both as to my origin and destination."

"There goes a Goor-kher" (wild ass), said Mahomed Beg, the JelloodÂr,[77] who was riding close behind; and away he galloped. Away I galloped also, leaving unfinished one of the finest speeches about the past and the future that was ever commenced.

We pursued the goor-kher several miles, when we gave up the chase as hopeless. On our return, however, we found plenty of other game; five hares were killed by our dogs and three by hawks. When at Shiraz, the Elchee had received a present of a very fine ShÂh-BÂz, or royal falcon. Before going out I had been amused at seeing Nutee Beg, our head falconer, a man of great experience in his department, put upon this bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to its thighs with as much care as if he had been the tailor of a fashionable horseman. I inquired the reason of so unusual a proceeding. "You will learn that," said the consequential master of the hawks, "when you see our sport:" and I was convinced, at the period he predicted, of the old fellow's knowledge of his business.

The first hare seized by the falcon was very strong, and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws of one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other was dragged along the ground till it had an opportunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass, by which it was enabled to stop the course of the hare, whose efforts to escape, I do think, would have torn the hawk asunder, if it had not been provided with the leathern defences which have been mentioned.

The next time the falcon was flown gave us a proof of that extraordinary courage which its whole appearance, and particularly its eye, denoted. It had stopt and quite disabled the second hare by the first pounce, when two greyhounds, which had been slipped by mistake, came up, and endeavoured to seize it. They were, however, repulsed by the falcon, whose boldness and celerity in attacking the dogs and securing its prey excited our admiration and astonishment.

We had some excellent sport with smaller hawks and partridges. I was particularly pleased with one bird which kept hovering over our heads till the game was sprung, and then descending like a shot, struck its prey to the ground.

We made three marches from Persepolis before we came to any remarkable place; we then reached some ruins called MÂder-e-SÛlimÂn, or the mother of Solomon. These have been almost as much dwelt upon by travellers as those of Persepolis, and conjectures are equally various. Many insist that this is the tomb of Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, the wife of David, and mother of Solomon. To this the only objection is, the belief or fact that neither Solomon nor his mother were ever within a thousand miles of this spot while living, and therefore it was unlikely to be chosen as the burial-place of the latter when dead. Another account states it to be the tomb of SÛlimÂn, the tenth caliph of the race of Ali; but against this conclusion there is decisive evidence in the very ancient style of the architecture and the inscriptions, which are in the arrow-headed character. Some antiquaries, puzzled by these objections, have gone back to remote ages, and determined it to be PasargadÆ the resting-place of Cyrus. I could only stay a few hours at this tomb, otherwise this very important question might have been decided.

The next place on our route meriting notice is the village of Akleed, where the first mission halted for some days. It is situated in a beautiful valley, surrounded by hills and watered by clear rivulets. The gardens and groves in this town and its vicinity give it an inviting appearance to a traveller in Persia, which, with the exception of Mazenderan,[78] and other provinces on the Caspian, may generally be described as an arid country, without one great river, and with few perennial streams.[79]

If the report of the inhabitants of Akleed is to be believed, disease is almost unknown. A man upwards of eighty, who was praising the place to me, said, "We die of old age, but seldom from other causes. Then look round and see what a charming place it is. I have heard a MoollÂh assert," he added, "that our town is called Akleed or Kaleed (the key), and, on account of its beauty and salubrity, is considered as a key to paradise."

"But you suffer from oppression like others?" "Why," said he, "we are not exempt from troubles, but these come only now and then, whilst we always enjoy our pleasant habitations. We were in terrible alarm," he continued, "when we first heard of your approach; we were told that the Elchee was carrying a number of pier-glasses of immense[80] dimensions, as a present to the king; and that the inhabitants of the country, between Abusheher and Shiraz, were not only seized and compelled to carry these mirrors, but that all the principal men in the villages through which they had passed were to be sent to Teheran and punished, because some of them had been broken.

"This you may suppose occasioned no small fright, particularly as we knew the Elchee's Mehmandar would take advantage of the pretext of carrying these presents to commit every species of extortion. You may therefore consider our joy to hear that the Elchee, to save the inhabitants from such sufferings, had resolved to have the mirrors carried by mules. We were, however, not quite relieved from our fears till the whole passed through this place some days ago. Every mirror in its case was like a Tekht-e-RevÂn (or travelling litter), with shafts before and behind for the mules, by which it was carried. Then, besides twenty or thirty FerrÂshes to take care of these precious glasses, there was a party of horse to protect them; and the Elchee's head carpenter, Randall Beg,[81] dressed like one of us, and with a fine beard, rode at the head of the cavalcade."

The story of the old chronicler of Akleed was perfectly correct; and what was more uncommon in a Persian narration, no way exaggerated. The Elchee, though he incurred considerable expense in providing for the carriage of these unwieldy but valuable articles, acquired more popularity, by the relief he gave to the poorer inhabitants on his route by this act, and by insisting on paying for the SoorÂt, or provisions furnished to the mission, than by any others during his residence in Persia.

We passed several large camps of EelyÂts in our march between Persepolis and Isfahan. I had formerly seen enough of this race to satisfy me, that even the lowest of them were not only in a condition which freed them from want, but that they enjoyed a consideration in the community, or rather family, to which they belonged, that could not but contribute to their happiness. Their union and their bold character gives to this class of the population of Persia great security; and even when the tribe happens from political motives to be divided, which is often the case, the spirit of individuals remains unbroken; and if they are of a race which has reputation for courage and attachment, it is not unfrequent to see them in the service of those by whom they have been subdued; nor do they in such case conceal the hostile feelings they still cherish against their conquerors, who are usually indifferent to the sentiments they entertain or express, while in their service, trusting for their fidelity to certain ties and principles, which, as connected with personal honour, are seldom violated by men of this description.

These reflections forcibly recurred to my mind, from a conversation I had, the day we left Akleed, with an old soldier of the tribe of MÂaffee, who was in the service of our Mehmandar.

"I have seen," said he to me, "nearly the whole of the contest between the families of Zend and Kajir. I belong to a tribe firmly attached to the former. I fought for them. Our princes were heroes in action, but they wanted judgment; besides fortune deserted them, and favoured these cruel Kajirs." I looked round; and observing my surprise, he instantly exclaimed, "What do I care who knows my sentiments? Was ever man more cruel than Aga Mahomed Khan? did not his wanton atrocities exceed all belief? I will tell you one," he added, "that I myself witnessed.

"After the last and bravest of our princes, Lootf Ali Khan, was betrayed and barbarously put to death, his MeerzÂ, a respectable Syed of the family of the Prophet, was brought before Aga Mahomed. 'Why did you dare,' said the enraged monarch, 'to write me fermÂns?'[82] 'I did so,' said the MeerzÂ, 'because the fear of Lootf Ali Khan, who was near me, was at the moment greater than of you, who were distant; but I trust to your clemency for pardon.' 'Cut off his hands and put out his eyes!' was the savage mandate, which was immediately obeyed.

"Next morning this MeerzÂ's son was brought a prisoner to camp. He was sent for by the king, who addressing him, said, 'Go to your father; tell him the Prophet has reproached me for my injustice to him; I will do what I can to make amends: what does he want?' 'To go and pass the remainder of his life at the tomb of the holy Ali at Kerbela,' said the youth. 'Let him depart,' replied the king, 'as soon as his wounds will permit: give him from me these three hundred tomans, and say that horses, mules, and tents will be provided for his accommodation. Inform him, I have repented of my inconsiderate violence, and ask him to pray for me.'

"Now," said my friend, the MÂaffee, "many think Aga Mahomed was sincere in his remorse; but I believe he was only cunning. He saw that every one was shocked at his horrible treatment of a holy Syed, and he was anxious to regain their good opinion. Nobody knew so well as that wily fox how to manage men. But after all," he concluded, "bad as he was in other respects, he was the soldier's friend, and so far better than his nephew and successor."

"Assuredly," said I, "you cannot accuse the present king of cruelty; he appears to me remarkable for his lenity." "What is the use of his lenity, if he neither gives his soldiers money himself, nor allows them to take it from others? These Kajirs," he continued, in no under tone, and with fifty people within hearing, "are a sad set, and we shall never have good times again while they keep the throne."

Next day I spoke privately to this old soldier, and told him I was afraid he might do himself injury by the manner in which he had so openly expressed himself. "Do not be alarmed," he said; "there is now no prince of the Zend family in Persia to compete for the crown. The Kajirs and their adherents, therefore, take little heed of language that can do no harm; besides, the king is, as you say, a merciful man, and he has the good sense to know he cannot alter the feelings of tribes like ours. He knows, also, that however we may talk, we shall prove true to those we serve, provided we are treated with confidence and consideration."

The first mission had halted at the village of Taaghoon, within a short distance of Isfahan, where we met a chief called Meerz Mehdee Khan, who had served under Lord Clive in Bengal. He spoke in raptures of that great man; from whom, as well as from General Carnac and others, he produced testimonials highly honourable to his character. He had retired, with the fortune he made in India, to this, his native village. I was particularly pleased with this old gentleman, and on our second mission, I inquired for him, but regretted to find he had been dead two years. His son had succeeded to his property and situation as head of Taaghoon, and appeared, from his conduct, to have inherited his father's sentiments of regard for the English.

Nothing can exceed in beauty and fertility, the country in the vicinity of Isfahan, and the first appearance of that city is very imposing. All that is noble meets the eye: the groves, avenues, and spreading orchards, with which it abounds, concealing the ruins of this once famed capital. A nearer view, however, dispels the illusion; but still much remains of wealth, if not of splendour, and were I so disposed, I might write a volume on its beautiful environs; its palaces, splendid even in decay, its college, with massy gates of silver, its magnificent bridges, its baths, its arched bazars, its fountains, its far-famed river Zindehrood, and the gardens on its banks, shaded with lofty sycamores, and filled with every flower and fruit of the temperate zone.

When the patience of the reader was exhausted by a minute description of all the beauties and bounties which art and nature have lavished on Isfahan, there would still remain to be described its two hundred thousand inhabitants, more than half of whom poured forth in their gayest attire to the istikbÂl, or meeting with the Elchee, the day we entered this renowned city.

A few days after our arrival the governor gave the Elchee an entertainment, which began, as usual, with sweetmeats and fruit; and after pipes, coffee, tumbling, wrestling, and fireworks, a sumptuous dinner was served up. Another day we were invited to breakfast with my old friend Hajee Ibrahim KÂledoonee, who gave us milk prepared in seventy-two different ways, being, as Hajee Hoosein whispered me, in accordance with the seventy-two sects in the religion of Mahomed. Whether there was such a design or not I cannot say, but the fare was admirable, and I was delighted to find my friend, who is, besides being an extensive farmer, a ketkhÛdÂ, or magistrate, of the ward of KÂledoon in Isfahan, the same plain-dressed, plain-spoken, humorous person we had left him ten years before. He took us, as he had formerly done, to the wonder of his quarter, the shaking minarets.[83] When a person mounts to the top of one of these, and moves his body, it vibrates, and the vibration is imparted to the other, though at a distance of about forty feet, the width of the mosque to which they belong.

While my companions were trying this experiment, and wondering at the cause, I remained on the terrace conversing with Hajee Ibrahim. I noticed a small village about a mile distant which seemed deserted. "Is that oppression?" said I. "No," said the Hajee, "worse." "Why," said I, "the TÛrkÛmÂns cannot have carried their inroads so near the town." "They could not have done the work so complete," said my friend, smiling. "Who has done it?" I asked. "A doctor," replied he; "a proper fellow, who acquired great reputation, and he deserved it, from the heirs of his patients at least. That village literally perished under his hands in five years. Now he is gone I know not where, but good luck attend him, so he comes not again to our neighbourhood."

I went with some of our party to several of the principal hemmÂms or baths of Isfahan. That of Khoosroo Aga I think one of the best I have seen. When the first mission came to Persia, doubts were entertained whether we could be permitted this luxury. Fortunately for us the point was deemed one, not merely connected with comfort, but with that respect which it was desirous we should receive from the natives of the country; and viewing it in this light, the Elchee, by a well-timed liberality, converted impure infidels into favoured guests, who, instead of being excluded, were, at every town, solicited to honour with their presence the public baths.

The inhabitants of Isfahan are reputed quick and intelligent. They, like those of other large cities in Persia, differ much, both in appearance and character, from the peasantry who dwell in the villages. The latter, though I saw none in actual poverty, seemed from their appearance rarely to have any superabundance of even the necessaries of life. Though neither so well lodged, clothed, nor fed as the citizens of large towns, and perhaps occasionally subjected to more oppression, I always found, when I talked to them, that they preferred their actual condition; and though often loud and bold in their complaints of their superiors, they appear a cheerful and robust race.[84]

The food of the EelyÂts is derived principally from their flocks, and they eat, with their cheese and curds, hard black bread made from barley and rye. The villagers in the cultivated plains have less animal food, but more of wheaten bread, fowls, eggs, vegetables, and fruits. Both these classes are equally uninstructed; the wandering tribes despise learning, and the inhabitants of hamlets and villages have seldom an opportunity of acquiring it.

In the larger towns, and particularly those in which there are manufactories, the case is very different; the inhabitants are generally well clothed, and their whole appearance indicates that they live in comfort. There are in all such towns numerous schools, and in the principal ones colleges. At Isfahan almost every man above the very lowest order can read and write, and artisans and shopkeepers are often as familiar as those of the higher ranks with the works of their favourite poets. The love of such learning seems, in some of the youth of this city, to degenerate into a disease. These TÂlib-ool-Ilm, or seekers of science, as the students are called, may be seen in crowds round the gates, or within the walls of its college, reciting stanzas, or discussing obscure dogmas or doctrines in their works on philosophy or religion, and they often become, from such habits, unfitted for every other pursuit in life.

The population of Isfahan, notwithstanding such exceptions, may be described as an active industrious people. They are considered the best manufacturers and the worst soldiers in Persia. But whatever may be their department in the field of battle, they are remarkable for the boldness of their language in the field of argument, and have great confidence in their ready wit and talent for repartee.

Some years ago, this city was governed by a brother of the celebrated Hajee Ibrahim, whose family at that time held several of the first offices in the kingdom; and I heard that minister tell the Elchee the following anecdote:

A shopkeeper, he said, went to his brother to represent that he could not pay an impost. "You must pay it, like others," said the governor, or leave the city." "Where can I go?" asked the man. "To Shiraz or Cashan." "Your nephew rules the one city, and your brother the other." "Go to the king and complain, if you like." "Your brother the Hajee is prime minister." "Then go to hell," said the enraged governor. "Hajee Merhoom, the pious pilgrim, your father, is dead—" retorted the undaunted IsfahÂnee. "My friend," said the governor, bursting into a laugh, "I will pay the impost myself, since you declare my family keeps you from all redress, both in this world and the next."

The merchants of Persia form a distinct class. I had now seen those of Abusheher, Shiraz, and Isfahan, and found their general character nearly the same.

So long as they have no concern with state affairs, and accept of no employment from government, they enjoy considerable security. The plunder of a merchant, without some pretext, would shake all confidence, and be fatal to that commerce from which a great proportion of the public revenue is derived; the most tyrannical monarchs therefore have seldom committed so impolitic an act of injustice. But this class have suffered so severely in the late revolutions of the country that they continue to act with great caution. They are not only very circumspect in their dealings, but, like wary diplomatists, every merchant has a cipher, known only to himself and his correspondents. By this means they receive and convey that intelligence which is essential to give safety to their speculations. Some few make a display of their wealth; but in general their habits are not merely frugal, but penurious. This disposition often increases with age to a degree that would hardly be credited if we had not similar instances in our own country.

The popular impression is so strong on this subject, that they relate the following story as a fact, to exemplify it:

A merchant who had lately died at Isfahan, and left a large sum of money, was so great a niggard, that for many years he denied himself and his son, a young boy, every support, except a crust of coarse bread. He was, however, one day tempted by the description a friend gave of the flavour of cheese to buy a small piece; but before he got home he began to reproach himself with extravagance, and instead of eating the cheese he put it into a bottle, and contented himself, and obliged his child to do the same, with rubbing the crust against the bottle, enjoying the cheese in imagination.

One day that he returned home later than usual, he found his son eating his crust, and rubbing it against the door. "What are you about, you fool?" was his exclamation. "It is dinnertime, father; you have the key, so I could not open the door;—I was rubbing my bread against it, because I could not get to the bottle." "Cannot you go without cheese one day, you luxurious little rascal? you'll never be rich!" added the angry miser, as he kicked the poor boy for not being able to deny himself the ideal gratification.

Our stay at Isfahan was short. I regretted this the less, as I had, on the former mission, full time to trace those remains of the splendour of the Seffavean kings, which are still to be found at this their favourite capital. The names of almost all these monarchs are now forgotten, excepting that of ShÂh Abbas the Great, who, in Persia, is not only the builder of all bridges, cÂrÂvÂnserÂis, and palaces, but his name is associated with all good sayings, liberal acts, and deeds of arms. I was really quite tired with hearing of this most gallant, most sage, most witty, and most munificent monarch, at his seat of glory; and when sixty miles to the northward of that city, we were entering the delightful little town of Nethenz, which lies in a narrow valley between two high mountains, I said to myself, "Well, we are now, thank God, clear of Abbas and his grand palaces; this scene of repose abounds in beauties for which he had no taste."

Hajee Hoosein, who was riding near me, said, as if he had read my thoughts, "This is a charming place, and the inhabitants are remarkable for their wit, as well as for their pears, peaches, and pretty ladies. When Abbas the Great"—I pulled up my horse, and looked at him with a countenance that indicated any thing but anxiety for his story; but not observing, or not choosing to observe, he continued:—"When Abbas the Great was hunting in this valley, he met, one morning as the day dawned, an uncommonly ugly man, at the sight of whom his horse started. Being nearly dismounted, and deeming it a bad omen, he called out in a rage to have his head struck off. The poor peasant whom they had seized, and were on the point of executing, prayed that he might be informed of his crime:—'Your crime,' said the king, 'is your unlucky countenance, which is the first object I saw this morning, and which had nearly caused me to fall from my horse.' 'Alas!' said the man, 'by this reckoning, what term must I apply to your majesty's countenance, which was the first object my eyes met this morning, and which is to cause my death?' The king smiled at the wit of the reply, ordered the man to be released, and gave him a present instead of taking off his head."

"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 instance of 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 the moral 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.'

"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.'

"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.'

"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 lovely female; 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's quotations, 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.

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