Cashan—Scorpions—CÂshÂnee Youth—Village of Sinsin—Plundering Expeditions of the TÛrkÛmÂns—Account of that Tribe—Wandering Tribes—Visit to the Dwelling of MihrÂb Khan AfshÂr—Account of his Family and Adherents—Anecdote of Kerreem Khan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[89] Neeyet-e-naish zedden.