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SKETCHES OF PERSIA.
by
SIR JOHN MALCOLM,
Author of 'History of Persia,' 'History of India,' etc., etc.
New Edition.
London:
John Murray, Albemarle Street.
1861.
London: Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
and Charing Cross.
TO
JOHN FLEMING, ESQ., M.D., F.R.S., &C.,
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE MEDICAL BOARD OF CALCUTTA,
BY
HIS MOST SINCERE AND ATTACHED FRIEND,
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
Page
INTRODUCTION xi
CHAPTER I.
Voyage from Bombay to the Persian Gulf 1
CHAPTER II.
Muscat 6
CHAPTER III.
The Persian Gulf and Abusheher 15
CHAPTER IV.
Camp at Abusheher--Horses--Abdûlla Aga--Anecdote of an Arab 22
CHAPTER V.
Hunting and hawking--Entertainment of the
Shaikh--Tollemache--Mirage--Nadir Shâh and Turkish ambassador 28
CHAPTER VI.
Elchee's lectures--Mehmandar's journal--Arab
nurse--Blue-Beard--Persian ceremony--King's picture 37
CHAPTER VII.
Mountaineers--Valley of Kazeroon--Virtue of Nitric Acid--Rizâ Kooli
Khan's loss of eyes--Extraordinary birds--Beautiful valley of
Desht-e-Arjun--Mahomet Rizâ Khan Byat--Irish patriotism--Persian
squire 45
CHAPTER VIII.
Principal characters of the mission--Mahomed Hoosein
Khan--Jaffier Ali Khan--Meerzâ Aga Meer--Mahomed Hoosein--Hajee
Hoosein--Candidates for the Elchee's favour 53
CHAPTER IX.
Importance of forms--Description of those used at visits in
Persia--Difficulties on this subject--Happy termination of a battle
of ceremonies between the first mission and the petty court of
Shiraz--Persian society--Fables and Apologues 62
CHAPTER X.
Fable of the two cats--Preamble to Persian treaty--Apologues from
Sâdee--Letter from Nizâm-ool-Moolk to Mahomed Shâh--Death of
Yezdijird 77
CHAPTER XI.
Shiraz--Shaikh-ool-Islûm, or Chief Judge--Story of
Ald-ool-Kadir--Entertainments--Derveesh Seffer--Story of Abdûlla of
Khorassan--Persian poet 87
CHAPTER XII.
Persian servants--Departure from Shiraz--Persepolis--Tale of the
labours of Roostem--Anecdote of a sportsman 105
CHAPTER XIII.
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 123
CHAPTER XIV.
Cashan--Scorpions--Câshânee youth--Village of Sinsin--Plundering
expeditions of the Tûrkâmâns--Account of that tribe--Wandering
tribes--Visit to the dwelling of Mihrâb Khan--Afshâr--Account of
his family and adherents--Anecdote of Kerreem Khan 145
CHAPTER XV.
Arrival at Koom--Mahomedan ladies--their rights and privileges
after marriage--Divorces--Story of Hajee Salâh, the cross-grained
161
CHAPTER XVI.
Departure from Koom--Poolee-Dellâk--Deryâ-e-Kebeer--Valley of the
Shadow of Death--Story of a Ghool--Remarks on Persian poetry 180
CHAPTER XVII.
Distant view of Teheran--Demavend--Rhe--Entrance into the
capital--Hajee Ibrahim--Zâl Khan--Terms of courtesy 197
CHAPTER XVIII.
Terms of reception at court--Second visit--Delivery
of presents--King's grant--Private interviews--King's
ancestors--Crown jewels--King's love of a joke--Mode of passing his
time--Harem--Royal meals--Hajee Ibrahim--His character and death
207
CHAPTER XIX.
Progress of the Russians--Buonaparte--Second visit to
Tullanea--King Abbas Meerzâ--Reflections--Electrifying
machine--Phantasmagoria--Ministers of the Persian court--Mahomed
Hoosein Khan Mervee 225
INTRODUCTION.
Once upon a time this island of Great Britain had some spots where
men and women and little children dwelt, or were believed to dwell,
in innocence, ignorance, and content. Travellers seldom visited them;
poets saw them in their dreams, and novelists told stories of them: but
these days are now past. Thanks to steam-boats and stagecoaches, there
is not a spot to which an ignorant or sage human being can retire,
where his eye will not be delighted or offended by a dark column of
smoke, or his ear gratified or grated by the rattling wheels of a
carriage. It is perhaps a consequence of this invasion of retirement
that all are tempted from their homes, and that while one half of the
population is on the highways, the other half is on the narrow seas.
This love of travel, however, is in the vast majority limited to the
neighbouring countries of Europe; but the ardour of curiosity, and
an ambitious desire of escaping from the beaten track, has of late
years induced not a few scientific and enterprising travellers to
overrun the renowned lands of Greece and Egypt, whose inhabitants stare
with astonishment at men flying with impatience from town to town,
exploring ruins; measuring pyramids; groping in dark caverns; analyzing
the various properties of earth, air, and water; carrying off mutilated
gods and goddesses; packing up common stones and pebbles, as if they
were rubies and diamonds; and even bearing away the carcases of the
dead, strangely preferring the withered frame of a female mummy, which
has been mouldering for four thousand years in its sepulchre, to the
loveliest specimens of living and animated beauty.
The uniformed natives of these countries, whose condition is much to
be deplored, are not aware that the great Samuel Johnson has said,
that "Whatever raises the past, the distant, and the future, above
the present, exalts us in the dignity of human beings;" which is an
unanswerably good reason for the preference given to mummies over every
living object, however fascinating.
The rage of the present day for mummies and other delectable reliques
of antiquity has deluged Egypt with itinerant men of science and
research, who have quite exhausted that land of wonders; and those who
have lately visited it have been reduced, from actual want of other
aliment, to the necessity of preying upon their predecessors, many of
whom have been cruelly mangled, and some wholly devoured.
These wandering tribes of writers, who are, in a certain degree,
subject to the same motives which force the hordes of Tartary to
change their places of abode, have recently begun to migrate into
Syria, Asia Minor, and some have actually penetrated as far as Persia.
This has given me no small alarm, for I have long had designs upon
that country myself: I had seen something of it, and had indulged a
hope that I might, at my leisure, gratify the public by allowing them
to participate in my stock of information; but being of an indolent
disposition, I deferred the execution of this, my favourite plan, until
that anticipated period of repose, the prospect of which, however
distant, has always cheered a life of vicissitude and labour.
Nothing that had hitherto appeared respecting Persia at all frightened
me. I am no historian, therefore I did not tremble at Sir John
Malcolm's ponderous quartos; I am no tourist, Mr. Morier's Journeys
gave me no uneasiness; the learned Researches of Sir William Ouseley
were enough to terrify an antiquarian, but that was not my trade; and,
as I happen to have clumsy, untaught fingers, and little if any taste
for the picturesque, I viewed without alarm the splendid volumes of Sir
Robert Ker Porter. Far different, however, was the case when that rogue
Hajji Bâbâ made his appearance. I perused him with anxiety, but was
consoled by finding that, though he approached the very borders of my
province, he had made no serious inroads. I was roused, however, into
action, and determined instantly to rummage those trunks into which my
sketches had been thrown as they were finished, and where many of them
had slumbered undisturbed for nearly thirty years.
I must warn the reader that the trunks here spoken of bear no
resemblance whatever to those imaginary boxes which it has lately been
the fashion to discover, filled with MSS. unaccountably deposited
in them by some strange and mysterious wight; mine are all real,
well-made, strong, iron-clamped boxes, which I had prepared with
great care, in order that they might preserve the papers I from time
to time intrusted to them. I am well aware that this plain and true
statement of the fact will, with many, diminish the interest of these
pages; but with others it will increase it; for they will be gratified
to find in them sketches taken on the spot, while the facts and the
feelings to which they relate were fresh and warm before me; and I can
truly affirm, that the sense, the nonsense, the anecdotes, the fables,
and the tales,--all, in short, which these volumes contain, with the
exception of a few sage reflections of my own, do actually belong to
the good people amongst whom they profess to have been collected.
Yet, partial as I was to my secret hoard, it was long before I could
make up my mind to publish. While I was one day musing upon the
subject, my attention was accidentally drawn to a volume of Persian
poetry that was lying on the table. A fâl or lot, I exclaimed, shall
put an end to my indecision! Saying which, according to the usage of
my Persian friends in like cases, I shut my eyes, opened the book, and
counting seven pages back, read the first four lines, as follows:
"Her kih sefer kerdeh pesendeedeh sheved
Z'âeena-e-noor kemâl-esh deedeh sheved
Pâkeezeter ez âb nebâshed cheezee
Her jâh kih kooned mekâm gendeedeh sheved."
"Whoever has travelled shall be approved;
His perfections shall be reflected as from a mirror of light.
There can be nothing more pure than water;
But wherever it stagnates it becomes offensive."
My delight was excessive, and I despatched my manuscripts forthwith
to the bookseller; who has been desired to keep me minutely informed
of the success of these volumes; and a hint has been given him, that
if they meet with encouragement, the contents of the boxes before
mentioned are far from being exhausted.
NOTE TO THE READER.
The usual orthography of some proper names has been altered, with a
view of rendering them more conformable to the pronunciation and the
grammar of the languages to which they belong. For instance, our old
friend and favourite, the caliph Haroun-al-Raschid of the Arabian
tales, appears under his Arabic name of Hâroon-oor-Rasheed. The
critical reader will also discover that a few of the Eastern words have
not always been spelled exactly alike. This unintentional typographical
inaccuracy was caused by the peculiar circumstances under which these
volumes were printed.
SKETCHES OF PERSIA.
CHAPTER I.
Voyage from Bombay to the Persian Gulf.
There is a monotony in a long sea-voyage, particularly to passengers,
which those who have never traversed the wide ocean cannot well
understand. A fair or contrary wind, a calm or a storm, a man
overboard, a strange sail, or the hooking of a shark, are events
which rouse for the moment; but the passenger soon sinks again into
his listless, restless life, sitting half an hour below, walking
another half hour on deck, holding on by the rigging when the ship
rolls, looking over the gangway when the sea is smooth, watching the
man casting the log, and waiting with anxiety to hear the latitude
announced at twelve o'clock. His little incidents are, being in the way
of the officer of the watch when upon deck, and when below disturbing
the captain's calculations of the longitude, by laughing or talking
with other idlers; for that is the class in which he is registered
in the muster-roll of the crew. With me, however, there is a pursuit
which helps to beguile a long voyage. I am always on the lookout for
odd characters, and these abound at sea; from which circumstance, I
suppose, we have our common phrase of calling an out-of-the-way person
"an odd fish," alluding to the element where he is generally found.
Such a one I met on board the frigate in which we sailed for Persia,
and I shall give a sketch of him as taken at the moment.
This man, whose name was Peterson, was what he appeared to be, a blunt
sailor: his experience in the Indian seas recommended him to the
situation he now occupied, as acting master of a frigate: he was a
figure to play Falstaff, being very stout, and nearly six feet high. He
wore his clothes loose, and, when he came on board, a sailor, struck
with his appearance, turning his quid as he eyed him, exclaimed, "We
shall never be in distress for canvass; our new master wears a spare
set of sails."
I shall give Peterson's history in his own words, as related after
dinner the day he came on board. "I have been," said he, "thirty-two
years at sea, and have seen both calms and storms. When a young man,
I was stuck full of arrows by some savage Americans; and but for a
tobacco-box, which stopped one that hit upon a vital part, I should
have gone to Davy's locker at that time. Since I came to this country,
twenty-eight years ago, I have had many ups and downs, but weathered
them all pretty tolerably till three years since, when coming to Bombay
in a small sloop, I was laid on board by some pirates belonging to
Bate.[1] We fought as well as we could, but the rascals were too many
for us, and while we were defending one part of the vessel they sprung
on board at another, giving a fire at the same time, which killed my
owner close beside me. A passenger then jumped overboard, for which,
thought I, 'you are a fool;' for let the worst come to the worst, a man
may do that at any time. One of these fellows looking at me cried 'Mar
haramee,' which means, 'kill the rascal.' 'Mut mar,' 'don't kill him,'
said a soft-hearted looking fellow, and defended me from the blow;
so they did not kill me, but stripped and bound me to the capstan,
and away they took us to Bate. When we came there, the chief or head
fellow came on board, and I fully expected we should be sent ashore and
hanged. When this chap sent for me, I was a pretty figure; I had not
been shaved for three weeks, and I was wrapped round with a top-gallant
studding sail. 'What are you?' said the fellow. 'An Englishman,' said
I. 'Very well; I won't kill you.' 'Faith,' thinks I, 'I'm very glad
of that.' 'My people,' says he, 'are all big thieves.' 'Egad,' thinks
I, 'you are the biggest of the gang.' He then asked me what money or
property I had; and I thought at one time he looked as if he would have
given it back; so I tells him all, even to my gold watch. The whole was
about five thousand rupees. 'Well, well,' says he, 'it shall be taken
care of;' and I suppose it was, for I never saw a rap of it, only five
rupees that the villain gave me, in a present, as he called it, to bear
my expenses when he sent me and my crew to Bombay.
"I left Bate, notwithstanding my losses, as happy as could be, to get
out of their clutches alive; and after some days we reached Bombay in a
pretty pickle; my feet were swelled, I had not shaved since my capture,
and I had only a few ragged clothes on. Two rupees were left out of
the five, and with them I went to a tavern and ordered breakfast; when
it was over I told one of the servants to call his master. In came an
English waiter, with his head all powdered, shuffling and mincing,
saying, as he entered the room, 'Do you want me, Sir?' 'Yes,' says I,
'I want you: I have been plundered, and have got no cash, and will
thank you to lend me twenty or thirty rupees.' 'What are you--a common
sailor?' 'Not quite,' says I; 'but I want the money to get a few
clothes, and then I can go to my friends.' 'I am not master of this
house,' said this gentleman, and out he skips. I saw no more of him
or his twenty rupees; and when I told a servant to get me a tiffin,
he said I had not paid for my breakfast. As I was jawing with this
fellow, a Parsee[2] came in, and asked me if I had not better go to the
bazar, and borrow some clothes, and then go to my friends. Well, God
knows, I had not much heart to do any thing; for the unkindness of my
countryman, after all I had suffered, cut me just as if I had been cut
with a knife; but I thought I might as well follow the Parsee, who was
one of those fellows that go about Bombay trying what they can make of
every body they meet. I goes first to one shop, and tries things on;
and when they fit, I says, 'I will pay you to-morrow;' but the fellow
says, 'No; ready money.' Well, I was obliged to strip again: this
happened at four shops, and I was quite tired, when a good fellow, who
keeps No. 18, of the Great Bazar, said I might fit myself, and pay when
I could. I then got rigged, and stood away for Mr. Adamson, whom I had
before known. I met him at the door of his house, and he did not know
me; but when I told him my story--'Oh!' says he, quite pitiful, 'are
you the poor fellow who has suffered so much? I will get you a berth
in another ship--and take this.' So saying, he gives me one hundred
rupees. Well, I thanked him; and next goes to Captain Phillips, and got
from him a present of two gold mohurs, and six suits of good clothes,
from top to toe. He made me report and write three or four sheets about
Bate, and how I had been used; and then sent me to the governor, Mr.
Duncan, who gets all the long story from me again, and then gave me
one hundred rupees. I had now two hundred and thirty rupees and clean
rigging. I goes again to the tavern, and sings out lustily for tiffin.
Well, they look and sees I am quite a different thing from before, and
so become mighty civil and attentive. The waiter begs my pardon--says
he was mistaken--and that he had twenty rupees ready, and would give me
any aid I liked. 'D----n your aid,' says I; 'you are very ready to give
it to any person who does not want it.' It was a great treat to me to
serve him as I did: I eat my tiffin, paid for it on the table, and left
the house.
"Well," said Peterson, "to make a long story short, I went in a China
ship, and last year got the command of a vessel belonging to a Persian
merchant, who trades to the Gulf. He was a bad owner, had no credit,
and, what with that and the fear of the Arabs, I had a troublesome time
of it. We parted; and he has got another captain, rather black to be
sure, but he likes him all the better, I suppose, from being nearer his
own vile colour than I was; and I, by this means, being along shore,
having no money or credit, am glad to come as acting-master of this
here ship. I thank God I have good health, and don't complain; many are
worse off than I am."
Such was our master's[3] history. In a conversation I had with him, as
we were walking the deck, the day we arrived at Muscat, I asked him if
he had a wife? "No;" said he. "You were never married, then?" "I didn't
say so," he replied. "I beg your pardon," said I. "Oh! no harm, no
harm! the honest truth never need be hid: I was married: but taking a
long voyage, being away seven years, and my letters (of which, by the
by, I wrote but few) miscarrying, what does my wife do, but marries
again. This I heard when I got home to England." "And what did you do?"
said I; "did you inquire after her?" "Indeed I did not," said Peterson
with great indifference; "I didn't think her worth so much trouble; she
was glad, I suppose, to get rid of me, and, God knows, I was not sorry
to be shot of her."
The vicissitudes to which sailors are subject train them to bear what
are termed the ups and downs of life better than any other men in the
world. They appear, when afloat, not only to leave all their cares
on shore, but to forget the hardships incident to their condition.
A remarkable instance of this was given by our captain, who told us
that he went one day to see a tender, on board which there was a great
number of men who had just been pressed, and who, though strictly
confined in their floating prison, were, nevertheless, joining in the
chorus of one of our patriotic airs, and singing with great glee the
old song:--
"Who are so free as we sons of the waves?"
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The island of Bate is situated at the north-western extremity of
the Gulf of Cutch.
[2] Parsee is the name of the descendants of the ancient Persians, who
still retain the usages and religion of their forefathers. There are
many of these followers of Zoroaster at Bombay, where they form, if not
the most numerous, the most respectable part of the native community.
[3] This old sailor is now no more. He continued unlucky till he found
a generous patron at Bombay, whose active benevolence gave repose and
comfort to his latter days.