Shiraz--Shaikh-ool-Islâm, or Chief Judge--Story of
Abd-ool-Kâdir--Entertainments--Derveesh Seffer--Story of Abdûlla of
Khorassan--Persian Poet.
Our only occupation at Shiraz was feasting, visiting, and giving and
receiving presents. The cupidity of the Persians exceeded all bounds,
and ministers, courtiers, merchants, wits, and poets, were running a
race for the Elchee's favour, which was often accompanied by a watch,
a piece of chintz, or of broadcloth. Their conduct confirmed me in a
belief I had imbibed at Abusheher, that all the Persians were crafty
and rapacious rogues. I like to decide quickly; it saves trouble; and
when once decided, I am particularly averse to believe my judgment is
not infallible.
The Envoy had hired, as before noticed, for his Persian secretary,
a mild moderate man, who appeared to have both good sense and good
principle: but although some time had elapsed, and I had watched him
narrowly without discerning a flaw, I attributed this to his art,
and I therefore gave little heed to his reasoning when he used to
plead for his countrymen, urging (as he often did), that, from our
being strangers, and from our reputation for wealth, generosity, and
inexperience, we were naturally exposed to the attacks of the cunning
and designing, from whose conduct we drew general inferences, which
were not quite fair. "We are not all so bad as you think us," the good
Aga Meer used to say, with a smile; "we have some redeeming characters;
these may be rare, but still they exist; but that, you English will as
yet hardly believe." He used frequently to mention to me, as one, a
relation of his own, the Shaikh-ool-Islâm, or Chief Judge and Priest of
Shiraz: "He was," he said, "a person who combined sense and information
with piety and humility. He has never come," added he, "like these
greedy nobles and hungry poets, to prey upon the munificence of the
Elchee; and when the latter, hearing that his sight was weak, sent him
a pair of spectacles beautifully mounted in silver, he returned them,
requesting a pair set in common tortoise-shell." Though I heard the
account of this paraded humility with a smile, I was very happy to
find we were to meet this paragon of modest merit at a breakfast, to
which Mahomed Hoosein Khan, the son of the minister Hajee Ibrahim, had
invited the Envoy.
The party assembled at the garden of Sâdee, and we were seated near
a fountain close to the tomb of the Persian moralist. There was some
punctilio in taking our places: but the Elchee, though a stickler for
rank with the temporal lords, insisted upon giving the highest seat
to the Shaikh-ool-Islâm, who at last consented to take it, observing,
the compliment, he felt, was not personal, but meant to his situation
as a minister of religion. I sat near, and listened attentively to
his conversation, in the hope of detecting the Persian, but was not
successful. "You must," he said to the Envoy, "believe me to be void of
rational curiosity, and a man who affects humility, because I have not
only never been to pay my respects, but when you sent me these costly
and beautiful spectacles, I solicited a cheaper and less showy pair. In
both instances, however, I acted against my personal inclinations from
an imperative sense of duty. My passion," said the Shaikh, "is to hear
the history, the manners, and usages of foreign countries; and where
could I have such an opportunity of gratifying my curiosity as in your
society? I was particularly pleased with the silver spectacles; the
glasses suited my eyes; and others in my house besides myself," said
he, smiling, "thought they were very becoming. But I was forced in both
cases to practise self-denial. The poor have no shield between them
and despotic power, but persons in my condition; and they naturally
watch our conduct with great vigilance and jealousy: had I, for my own
gratification, visited you, and displayed on my person the proofs of
your liberality, they would have thought their judge was like others,
and have lost some portion of their confidence in my best efforts to
protect them. Besides, ministers and courtiers would have rejoiced in
my departure from those rigid rules, the observance of which enables
us expounders of the Koran to be some check upon them. These were my
motives," concluded the Shaikh-ool-Islâm, "for a conduct which must
have seemed almost rude; but you will now understand it, and not
condemn me."
The Envoy was evidently delighted with his new friend, and their
conversation was protracted for several hours. The Shaikh-ool-Islâm
endeavoured to impress him with a favourable opinion of the law of
which he was an organ, and illustrated his arguments with anecdotes of
religious and learned men, of which I shall give those that struck me
as the happiest.
The celebrated Aboo Yûsuph, he said, who was chief judge of Bagdad
in the reign of the Caliph Hâdee, was a very remarkable instance of
that humility which distinguishes true wisdom. His sense of his own
deficiencies often led him to entertain doubts, where men of less
knowledge and more presumption were decided. "It is related of this
judge," said the Shaikh-ool-Islâm, "that on one occasion, after a very
patient investigation of facts, he declared that his knowledge was not
competent to decide upon the case before him." "Pray, do you expect,"
said a pert courtier, who heard this declaration, "that the caliph is
to pay your ignorance?" "I do not," was the mild reply; "the caliph
pays me, and well, for what I do know; if he were to attempt to pay me
for what I do not know, the treasures of his empire would not suffice."
The orthodox Shaikh spoke with more toleration than I expected of
the Soofees, who, from the wild and visionary doctrines which they
profess, are in general held up by the Mahomedan priests as objects of
execration. "There were," he observed, "many good and most exemplary
men included in this sect, merely because they were enthusiasts in
religion. Besides," said the Shaikh, "both our poets, Hâfiz and Sâdee,
but particularly the former, were Soofees; and what native of Shiraz
can pass a harsh sentence upon them? We must," he continued, "lament
the errors of Soofees in consideration of their virtues; and even in
their wildest wanderings they convey the most important lessons--for
instance, how simply and beautifully has Abd-ool-Kâdir of Ghilan
impressed us with the love of truth in a story of his childhood."[41]
After stating the vision which made him entreat of his mother to allow
him to go to Bagdad and devote himself to God, he thus proceeds. "I
informed her of what I had seen, and she wept: then taking out eighty
dinars, she told me that as I had a brother, half of that was all my
inheritance; she made me swear, when she gave it me, never to tell
a lie, and afterwards bade me farewell, exclaiming, 'Go, my son, I
consign thee to God; we shall not meet again till the day of judgment.'
I went on well," he adds, "till I came near to Hamadân, when our
kâfillah was plundered by sixty horsemen: one fellow asked me, 'what I
had got?' 'Forty dinars,' said I, 'are sewed under my garments.' The
fellow laughed, thinking, no doubt, I was joking with him. 'What have
you got?' said another; I gave him the same answer. When they were
dividing the spoil, I was called to an eminence where the chief stood:
'What property have you got my little fellow?' said he. 'I have told
two of your people already,' I replied, 'I have forty dinars sewed up
carefully in my clothes!' He ordered them to be ript open, and found
my money.--'And how came you,' said he, with surprise, 'to declare so
openly, what has been so carefully hidden?' 'Because,' I replied, 'I
will not be false to my mother, to whom I have promised that I will
never tell a lie,' 'Child,' said the robber, 'hast thou such a sense
of thy duty to thy mother at thy years, and am I insensible, at my
age, of the duty I owe to my God? Give me thy hand, innocent boy,'
he continued, 'that I may swear repentance upon it.' He did so--his
followers were all alike struck with the scene. 'You have been our
leader in guilt,' said they to their chief, 'be the same in the path of
virtue;' and they instantly, at his order, made restitution of their
spoil, and vowed repentance on my hand."
The Elchee, before this party separated, endeavoured to persuade the
high priest to allow him the pleasure of a more frequent intercourse;
but his kind invitations were declined in a manner and for reasons
which satisfied me I had at least met with one good Persian.
While at Shiraz, we were entertained by the prince, his ministers, and
some of the principal inhabitants. A breakfast was given to the Elchee,
at a beautiful spot near the Hazâr Bâgh, or thousand gardens, in the
vicinity of Shiraz; and we were surprised and delighted to find that
we were to enjoy this meal on a stack of roses. On this a carpet was
laid, and we sat cross-legged like the natives. The stack, which was as
large as a common one of hay in England, had been formed without much
trouble from the heaps or cocks of rose-leaves, collected before they
were sent into the city to be distilled. We were told our party was the
first to which such a compliment had been paid. Whether this was the
case or not, our mount of roses, added to the fine climate, verdant
gardens, and clear rills, gave a character of singular luxuriance to
this rural banquet.
We were at several evening parties. The dinner given by the minister,
Mahomed Nebbee Khan, was the most magnificent. He has been in India;
and some English usages, to please and accommodate us, were grafted on
the Persian. We went at five o'clock in the evening, and were received
in his state hall. In the court-yard, in front of the room in which we
sat, were assembled rope-dancers, wrestlers, musicians, lions, bears,
and monkeys, all of which exhibited their different feats till sunset;
when, after being regaled with coffee, kelliâns, and sweetmeats, we
were conducted to another apartment, where we found a dessert of fruit
very elegantly laid out in the English style. After sitting in this
room for about an hour, we returned to the state hall, which we had no
sooner entered than the fireworks commenced; and though the space where
they were exhibited was very confined, they were the best I ever saw.
The rockets were let off from a frame which kept them together, and
produced a beautiful effect. There was another sort called zembooreh,
or swivels, which made a report like a twelve pounder, and added great
spirit and effect to this exhibition. After it was over we had a most
sumptuous repast of fine pelaws, &c., and iced sherbets.
The day before we left Shiraz, Derveesh Seffer, my old acquaintance,
paid the Elchee a visit. This remarkable man, who has charge of the
shrines[42] (including those of Sâdee and Hâfiz) near Shiraz, is
esteemed one of the best reciters of poetry and tellers of tales in
Persia; and there is no country in the world where more value is placed
upon such talents; he who possesses them in an eminent degree is as
certain of fortune and fame as the first actors in Europe. Derveesh
Seffer, who is honoured by the royal favour, has a very melodious
voice, over which he has such power as to be able to imitate every
sound, from that of the softest feminine to the harshest masculine
voice. The varied expression of his countenance is quite as astonishing
as his voice, and his action is remarkably graceful, and always suited
to his subject. His memory is not only furnished with an infinite
variety of stories, but with all the poetry of his country; this
enables him to give interest and effect to the most meagre tale, by
apt quotations from the first authors of Persia. Those told by persons
like him usually blend religious feeling with entertainment, and are
meant to recommend charity; but I cannot better conclude this account
of my friend the Derveesh than by giving a tale which he recited to
the Envoy, with a view no doubt of impressing him with a belief that
worldly success might be promoted by munificence, in any shape, to
shrines like those of which he had charge.
The Derveesh having seated himself in a proper position, commenced with
a fine passage from the poet Nizâmee in praise of those who, possessing
the talent of recitation, give currency and effect to the noble
thoughts of departed genius. After a short pause he began his tale.
"In a sequestered vale of the fruitful province of Khorassan there
lived a peasant called Abdûlla. He had married a person in his own rank
of life, who, though very plain in her appearance, had received from
her fond father the fine name of Zeebâ, or the beautiful; to which act
of parental folly the good woman owed the few seeds of vanity that
mixed in her homely character. It was this feeling that led her to
name her two children Yûsuph and Fatima, conceiving, no doubt, that
the fortunate name of the son of Yâcoob, the vizier of Far'oun, and
fascinator of Zuleikhâ,[43] would aid the boy in his progress through
life; while there could be no doubt of her little girl receiving equal
advantages from being named after the daughter of the Prophet, and the
wife of the renowned Ali.
"With all these family pretensions from high names, no man's means
could be more humble, or views more limited, than those of Abdûlla; but
he was content and happy: he was strong and healthy, and laboured for
the reis or squire, who owned the land on which his cottage stood--he
had done so from youth, and had never left, nor ever desired to leave,
his native valley. The wages of his labour were paid in grain and
cloth, sufficient for the food and clothing of his family and himself;
with money he was unacquainted except by name.
"It happened, however, one day, that the reis was so well pleased with
Abdûlla's exertions that he made him a present of ten piastres. Abdûlla
could hardly express his thanks, he was so surprised and overjoyed at
this sudden influx of wealth. The moment he could get away from his
daily labour he ran home to his wife:--'There, my Zeebâ,' said he,
'there are riches for you!' and he spread the money before her. The
astonishment and delight of the good woman was little less than that
of her husband, and the children were called to share in the joy of
their parents. 'Well,' said Abdûlla, still looking at the money, 'the
next thing to consider is what is to be done with this vast sum. The
reis has given me to-morrow as a holiday, and I do think, my dear wife,
if you approve, I will go to the famous city of Meshed; I never saw
it, but it is not above six or seven fersekhs distant. I will pay my
devotions at the shrine of the holy Imâm Mehdee, upon whom be God's
blessing, and like a good Mahomedan deposit there two piastres--one
fifth of my wealth--and then I will go to the great bazar, of which I
have heard so much, and purchase with the remainder every thing you, my
dear wife and children, can wish; tell me what you would like best.
"'I will be moderate,' said Zeebâ; 'I want nothing but a piece of
handsome silk for a dress; I think it would be becoming and as she
said so, all the associations to which her father had given birth
when he gave her a name shot across her mind. 'Bring me,' said the
sturdy little Yûsuph, 'a nice horse and a sword.' 'And me,' said
his sister, in a softer tone, 'an Indian handkerchief and a pair of
golden slippers.' 'Every one of these articles shall be here to-morrow
evening,' said Abdûlla, as he kissed his happy family; and early next
morning, taking a stout staff in his hand, he commenced his journey
towards Meshed.
"When Abdûlla approached the holy city his attention was first
attracted by the cluster of splendid domes and minarets, which
encircled the tomb of the holy Imâm Mehdee, whose roofs glittered with
gold. He gazed with wonder at a sight which appeared to him more like
those which the faithful are promised in heaven, than any thing he ever
expected to see on this earth. Passing through the streets which led
to such magnificent buildings, he could look at nothing but them. When
arrived at the gate of the sacred shrine, he stopped for a moment in
silent awe, and asked a venerable priest, who was reading the Koran,
if he might proceed, explaining at the same time his object. 'Enter,
my brother,' said the old man; 'bestow your alms, and you shall be
rewarded; for one of the most pious of the caliphs has said--'Prayer
takes a man half way to paradise; fasting brings him to its portals;
but these are only opened to him who is charitable."
"Having deposited, like a good and pious Mussulman, the fifth[44]
of his treasure on the shrine of the holy Imâm, Abdûlla went to the
great bazar; on entering which his senses were quite confounded by the
novel sight of the pedestrian crowd hurrying to and fro; the richly
caparisoned horses, the splendid trains of the nobles, and the loaded
camels and mules, which filled the space between rich shops, where
every ware of Europe, India, China, Tartary, and Persia was displayed.
He gazed with open mouth at every thing he saw, and felt for the first
time what an ignorant and insignificant being he had hitherto been.
Though pushed from side to side by those on foot, and often nearly run
over by those on horseback, it was some time before he became aware of
the dangers to which his wonder exposed him. These accidents however
soon put him out of humour with the bustle he had at first so much
admired, and determined him to finish his business and return to his
quiet home.
"Entering a shop where there was a number of silks, such as he had
seen worn by the family of the reis, he inquired for their finest
pieces. The shopman looked at him, and observing from his dress that
he was from the country, concluded he was one of those rich farmers,
who, notwithstanding the wealth they have acquired, maintain the plain
habits of the peasantry, to whom they have a pride in belonging. He,
consequently, thought he had a good customer; that is, a man who added
to riches but little knowledge of the article he desired to purchase.
With this impression he tossed and tumbled over every piece of silk
in his shop. Abdûlla was so bewildered by their beauty and variety,
that it was long before he could decide; at last he fixed upon one,
which was purple with a rich embroidered border. 'I will take this,'
he said, wrapping it up, and putting it under his arm; 'What is the
price?'--'I shall only ask you, who are a new customer,' said the man,
'two hundred piastres; I should ask any one else three or four hundred
for so exquisite a specimen of manufacture, but I wish to tempt you
back again, when you leave your beautiful lands in the country to
honour our busy town with your presence.' Abdûlla stared, replaced the
silk, and repeated in amazement--'Two--hundred--piastres! you must be
mistaken; do you mean such piastres as these?' taking one out of the
eight he had left in his pocket, and holding it up to the gaze of the
astonished shopkeeper. 'Certainly I do,' said the latter; 'and it is
very cheap at that price.' 'Poor Zeebâ!' said Abdûlla, with a sigh at
the thoughts of her disappointment. 'Poor who?' said the silk-mercer.
'My wife,' said Abdûlla. 'What have I to do with your wife?' said the
man, whose tone altered as his chance of sale diminished. 'Why,' said
Abdûlla, 'I will tell you all: I have worked hard for the reis of our
village ever since I was a boy; I never saw money till yesterday, when
he gave me ten piastres. I came to Meshed, where I had never been
before. I had given, like a good Mussulman, a fifth of my wealth to the
Imâm Mehdee, the holy descendant of our blessed Prophet, and with the
eight remaining piastres I intend to buy a piece of embroidered silk
for my good wife, a horse and sword for my little boy, and an Indian
handkerchief and a pair of golden slippers for my darling daughter;
and here you ask me two hundred piastres for one piece of silk How am
I to pay you, and with what money am I to buy the other articles? tell
me that,' said Abdûlla, in a reproachful tone. 'Get out of my shop!'
said the enraged vender of silks; 'here have I been wasting my valuable
time, and rumpling my choicest goods, for a fool and a madman! Go along
to your Zeebâ and your booby children; buy stale cakes and black sugar
for them, and do not trouble me any more.' So saying he thrust his new
and valued customer out of the door.
"Abdûlla muttered to himself as he went away, 'No doubt this is a
rascal, but there may be honest men in Meshed; I will try amongst the
horse-dealers; and having inquired where these were to be found, he
hastened to get a handsome pony for Yûsuph. No sooner had he arrived
at the horse market, and made his wishes known, than twenty were
exhibited. As he was admiring one that pranced along delightfully, a
friend, whom he had never seen before, whispered him to beware, that
the animal, though he went very well when heated, was dead lame when
cool. He had nearly made up his mind to purchase another, when the
same man significantly pointed to the hand of the owner, which was
one finger short, and then champing with his mouth and looking at the
admired horse, gave Abdûlla to understand that his beloved boy might
incur some hazard from such a purchase. The very thought alarmed him;
and he turned to his kind friend, and asked if he could not recommend
a suitable animal? The man said, his brother had one, which, if he
could be prevailed upon to part with, would just answer, but he doubted
whether he would sell him; yet as his son, who used to ride this horse,
was gone to school, he thought he might. Abdûlla was all gratitude, and
begged him to exert his influence. This was promised and done; and in a
few minutes a smart little grey horse, with head and tail in the air,
cantered up. The delighted peasant conceived Yûsuph on his back, and,
in a hurry to realize his vision, demanded the price. 'Any other person
but yourself,' said the man, 'should not have him for one piastre less
than two hundred; but as I trust to make a friend as well as a bargain,
I have persuaded my brother to take only one hundred and fifty.' The
astonished Abdûlla stepped back--'Why you horse-dealers,' said he,
'whom I thought were such good men, are as bad as the silk-mercers!'
He then recapitulated to his friend the rise of his present fortune,
and all that had occurred since he entered Meshed. The man had hardly
patience to hear him to a close; 'And have I,' said he, 'been throwing
away my friendship, and hazarding a quarrel with my brethren, by an
over-zealous honesty to please a fool of a bumpkin! Get along to your
Zeebâ, and your Yûsuph, and your Fatima, and buy for your young hopeful
the sixteenth share of a jackass! the smallest portion of that animal
is more suited to your means and your mind, than a hair of the tail of
the fine horses you have presumed to look at!'
"So saying, he went away in a rage, leaving Abdûlla in perfect dismay.
He thought, however, he might still succeed in obtaining some of the
lesser articles; he, however, met with nothing but disappointment:
the lowest priced sword was thirty piastres, the golden slippers were
twenty, and a small Indian handkerchief was twelve, being four piastres
more than all he possessed.
"Disgusted with the whole scene, the good man turned his steps
towards home. As he was passing through the suburbs he met a holy
mendicant exclaiming, 'Charity, charity! He that giveth to the poor
lendeth to the Lord; and he that lendeth to the Lord shall be repaid
a hundred-fold.' 'What is that you say?' said Abdûlla. The beggar
repeated his exclamation. 'You are the only person I can deal with,'
said the good but simple peasant; 'there are eight piastres--all I
possess; take them, and use them in the name of the Almighty, but
take care that I am hereafter paid a hundred-fold, for without it I
shall never be able to gratify my dear wife and children.' And in the
simplicity of his heart he repeated to the mendicant all which had
occurred, that he might exactly understand the situation in which he
was placed.
"The holy man, scarcely able to suppress a smile as he carefully folded
up the eight piastres, bade Abdûlla to be of good heart, and rely
upon a sure return. He then left him, exclaiming as before, 'Charity,
charity! He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord; and he that
lendeth to the Lord shall be repaid a hundred-fold.'
"When Abdûlla came within sight of his cottage, they all ran to meet
him. The breathless Yûsuph was the first who reached his father:
'Where is my horse and my sword?' 'And my Indian handkerchief and
golden slippers?' said little Fatima, who had now come up. 'And my
silk vest?' said Zeebâ, who was close behind her daughter. 'But wealth
has changed your disposition, my dear Abdûlla!' said the good woman:
'you have become grave, and no doubt,' she added with a smile, 'so
dignified, that you could not be burdened, but have hired a servant to
bring home the horse and to carry the presents for your family. Well,
children, be patient; we shall see every thing in a few minutes.'
Abdûlla shook his head, but would not speak a word till he entered his
dwelling. He then seated himself on his coarse mat, and repeated all
his adventures, every part of which was heard with temper till his
last act, that of giving his piastres to the mendicant. Zeebâ, who
had a little more knowledge of the world than her husband, and whose
mind was ruffled by disappointment, loudly reproached him with his
stupidity and folly in thus throwing away the money he had obtained
by the liberality of the reis, to whom she immediately went and gave
information of all that had occurred. The enraged squire sent for
Abdûlla: 'You blockhead,' said he, 'what have you been about? I, who
am a man of substance, never give more than a copper coin[45] to these
vagabond rascals who go about asking charity; and here you have given
one of them eight piastres; enough to spoil the whole generation; but
he promised you a hundred-fold, and you shall have it to prevent future
folly. Here,' said he to the servants near him, 'seize the fellow, and
give him a hundred stripes!' The order was obeyed as soon as given, and
poor Abdûlla went home on the night of the day following that which
had dawned upon his wealth, sore from a beating, without a coin in
his pocket, out of temper with silk-mercers, horse-dealers, cutlers,
slipper-makers, mendicants, squires, wives, himself, and all the world.
"Early next morning Abdûlla was awakened by a message, that the reis
wanted him. Before he went he had forgiven his wife, who was much
grieved at the punishment which her indiscretion had brought upon
her husband. He also kissed his children, and bid them be of good
heart, for he might yet, through God's favour, make amends for the
disappointment he had caused them. When he came to the reis, the latter
said, 'I have found a job for you, Abdûlla, that will bring you to your
senses: here, in this dry soil, I mean to dig for water, and you must
toil day after day till it is found.' So saying, he went away, leaving
Abdûlla to his own sad reflections and hard labour He made little
progress the first two days; but on the third, when about six cubits
below the surface, he came upon a brass vessel: on looking into which,
he found it full of round white stones, which were beautiful from their
smoothness and fine lustre. He tried to break one with his teeth,
but could not. 'Well,' said he, 'this is no doubt some of the rice
belonging to the squire which has been turned into stones: I am glad
of it--he is a cruel master; I will, however, take them home--they are
very pretty; and now I recollect I saw some very like them at Meshed
for sale. But what can this be? said Abdûlla to himself, disengaging
another pot from the earth--'Oho! these are darker, they must have been
wheat--but they are very beautiful; and here!' cried he, 'these shining
pieces of glass are finer and brighter than all the rest; but I will
try if they are glass;' and he put one of them between two stones, but
could not break it.
"Pleased with this discovery, and believing he had got something
valuable, but ignorant what it was, he dug out all he could find, and
putting them into a bag carefully concealed it even from his wife.
His plan was, to obtain a day's leave from his master, and go again
to Meshed, where he had hopes of selling the pretty stones of various
colours for as much money as would purchase the silk vest, the horse,
the sword, the slippers, and the handkerchief. His mind dwelt with
satisfaction on the pleasing surprise it would be to those he loved, to
see him return home, mounted on the horse, and loaded with the other
articles. But while the pious Abdûlla indulged in this dream, he always
resolved that the Imâm Mehdee should receive a fifth of whatever wealth
he obtained.
"After some weeks' hard labour at the well, water was found. The reis
was in good humour, and the boon of a holiday was granted. Abdûlla
departed before daylight, that no one might see the bag which he
carried; when close to Meshed, he concealed it near the root of a tree,
having first taken out two handfuls of the pretty stones, to try what
kind of a market he could make of them. He went to a shop where he had
seen some like them. He asked the man, pointing to those in the shop,
if he would buy any such articles? 'Certainly,' said the jeweller,
for such he was; 'have you one to sell?' 'One!' said Abdûlla, 'I
have plenty.' 'Plenty!' repeated the man. 'Yes: a bag-full.' 'Common
pebbles, I suppose; can you show me any?' 'Look here!' said Abdûlla,
taking out a handful, which so surprised the jeweller that it was
some time before he could speak. 'Will you remain here, honest man,'
said he, 'for a moment,' trembling as he spoke, 'and I will return
instantly.' So saying, he left the shop, but reappeared in a few
minutes with the chief magistrate and some of his attendants. 'There
is the man,' said he; 'I am innocent of all dealings with him: he has
found the long lost treasure of Khoosroo:[46] his pockets are filled
with diamonds, rubies, and pearls, in price and lustre far beyond
any existing; and he says he has a bag-full.' The magistrate ordered
Abdûlla to be searched, and the jewels which had been described were
found. He was then desired to show where he had deposited the bag,
which he did; all were carefully sealed, and carried with Abdûlla to
the governor, by whom he was strictly examined. He told his whole
history from first to last: the receiving of ten piastres; his charity
at the shrine of the Imâm; his intended purchases; the conduct of the
mercer, the horse-dealer, the cutler, the slipper-maker; the promises
of the mendicant; the disappointment and anger of his wife; the cruelty
of the reis; the digging of the well; the discovery of the pretty
stones; the plan formed for disposing of them, with the reserve for
further charity: all this was narrated with a clearness and simplicity
that stamped its truth, which was confirmed by the testimony of his
wife and children, who were brought to Meshed. But notwithstanding
this, Abdûlla, his family, and the treasures he had found, were a few
days afterwards despatched for Isfahan, under a guard of five hundred
horsemen. Express couriers were sent before to advise the ministers of
the great Abbas of the discovery which had been made, and of all that
had been done.
"During these proceedings at Meshed, extraordinary events occurred at
Isfahan. Shâh Abbas the Great saw one night in a dream the holy Imâm
Mehdee, clothed in green robes. The saint, after looking steadfastly
at the monarch, exclaimed, 'Abbas, protect and favour my friend!' The
king was much troubled at this dream, and desired his astrologers
and wise men to expound it: but they could not. On the two following
nights the same vision appeared, and the same words were pronounced.
The monarch lost all temper, and threatened the chief astrologer and
others with death, unless they relieved the anxiety of his mind before
the evening of the same day. While preparations were making for their
execution, the couriers from the governor of Meshed arrived, and the
vizier, after perusing the letters, hastened to the king. 'Let the mind
of the refuge[47] of the world be at repose,' he said: 'for the dream
of our monarch is explained. The peasant Abdûlla of Khorassan, who,
though ignorant and poor, is pious and charitable, and who has become
the chosen instrument of Providence for discovering the treasures of
Khoosroo, is the revealed friend of the holy Imâm Mehdee, who has
commanded that this good and humble man be honoured by the protection
and favour of the king of kings.'
"Shâh Abbas listened to the particulars which were written from Meshed
with delight: his mind was quite relieved, and he ordered all his
nobles and his army to accompany him a day's march from Isfahan to
meet the friend of the holy Imâm. When the approach of the party was
announced, the king walked from his tent a short distance to meet
them. First came one hundred horsemen; next Abdûlla, with his arms
bound, sitting on a camel; after him, on another, his wife Zeebâ, and
followed by their children, Yûsuph and Fatima, riding together on
a third. Behind the prisoners was the treasure. A hundred horsemen
guarded each flank, and two hundred covered the rear. Shâh Abbas made
the camels which carried Abdûlla and his family kneel close to him, and
aided, with his royal hands, to untie the cords by which the good man
was bound, while others released his wife and children. A suit of the
king's own robes were directed to be put upon Abdûlla, and the monarch
led him to a seat close to his throne: but before he would consent to
be seated, he thus addressed his majesty.
"'O King of the Universe, I am a poor man, but I was contented with my
lot, and happy in my family, till I first knew wealth. From that day my
life has been a series of misfortunes: folly and ambition have made me
entertain wishes out of my sphere, and I have brought disappointment
and misfortune on those I loved best; but now that my death is near,
and it pleases your majesty to amuse yourself with a mock-honour to
your slave, he is satisfied, if your royal clemency will only spare the
lives of that kind woman and these dear children. Let them be restored
to the peace and innocence of their native valley, and deal with me
according to your royal pleasure.'
"On uttering these words, Abdûlla, overcome by his feelings, burst into
tears. Abbas was himself greatly moved. 'Good and pious man,' he said,
'I intend to honour, not to slay thee. Thy humble and sincere prayers,
and thy charitable offerings at the shrine of the holy Mehdee, have
been approved and accepted. He has commanded me to protect and favour
thee. Thou shalt stay a few days at my capital, to recover from thy
fatigues, and return as governor of that province from which thou hast
come a prisoner. A wise minister, versed in the forms of office, shall
attend thee; but in thy piety and honesty of character I shall find
the best qualities for him who is destined to rule over others. Thy
good wife Zeebâ has already received the silk vest she so anxiously
expected; and it shall be my charge,' continued the gracious monarch,
with a smile, 'to see Yûsuph provided with a horse and sword, and that
little Fatima shall have her handkerchief and golden slippers.'
"The manner as well as the expressions of the king dispelled all
Abdûlla's fears, and filled his heart with boundless gratitude. He was
soon after nominated governor of Khorassan, and became famous over the
country for his humanity and justice. He repaired, beautified, and
richly endowed the shrine of the holy Imâm, to whose guardian care he
ever ascribed his advancement. Yûsuph became a favourite of Abbas, and
was distinguished by his skill in horsemanship, and by his gallantry.
Fatima was married to one of the principal nobles, and the good Zeebâ
had the satisfaction through life of being sole mistress in her family,
and having no rival in the affection of her husband, who continued to
cherish, in his exalted situation, those ties and feelings which had
formed his happiness in humble life."
Such is the story of Abdûlla of Khorassan, as given by my friend
Derveesh Seffer; but the difference between perusing it and hearing
him tell it, is that between reading a play and seeing it acted by
the first performers. I had heard him tell this tale ten years before,
when a curious incident occured. Two gentlemen rose to leave the party
when he was commencing: he asked the cause of their departure. "They
do not understand Persian," I said. "That is of no consequence," he
replied; "entreat them to stay, and they will soon find that their
ignorance of the language does not place them beyond my power." His
wishes were explained, and the result proved he was correct; they were
nearly as much entertained as others, and had their feelings almost
equally excited; such was his admirable expression of countenance, and
so varied the intonations of his voice.
I was pleased to see my friend Derveesh Seffer treated with liberality
by the Elchee. Such conduct towards persons of his character and
profession makes useful impressions. But here, as elsewhere, much
depends upon the selection of proper objects of notice; and it is no
easy matter to resist the constant attempts which are made to obtain
money or presents.
A poet of Shiraz, named Moollâh Adam, had gone a stage from that city
to present an ode to the Elchee, whom he had in this long and laboured
production compared to Roostem, the hero of Persia, for valour; to
Peerân-Weeseh, the Solomon of Tartary, for wisdom; and to Hâtim-Tâi,
the most munificent of Arabian princes, for generosity. He had been
rewarded for his trouble, but was not satisfied, and his genius was
taxed to obtain something more. While we were sitting in the room, at
the gateway of the beautiful garden of Jehân-Noomâ, looking at the
mules carrying our baggage towards Isfahan, this votary of the muses
made his appearance: his professed object was to take leave; his real
purpose was to read an epigram of four lines,[48] the concluding one of
which was--
"Moollâh Adam neek sâ'et yâft."
This line, from sâ'et signifying hour or watch, might either be
translated,
"Moollâh Adam chose a good (or propitious) hour,"
or,
"Moollâh Adam got a good watch."
The animals, laden with the most valuable articles, were at the moment
on the road below the window where we were seated, and the Elchee,
pointing to them, said, "Sâ'et goozesht," the hour is past, or, the
watch is gone. The countenance of the poet, which had, on reading his
last line, glistened with expectation, changed for a moment, but was
soon covered with forced smiles, and he declared that he would rather
carry the Elchee's happy reply into the city than ten watches. I
trembled lest this flattery should succeed: it did not; and he departed
apparently in good humour, but inwardly, no doubt, much disappointed.
FOOTNOTES:
[41] This story is given in the History of Persia, vol. ii. p. 405.
[42] Tekkeyahs.
[43] The frail wife of Potiphar, according to the Mahomedans.
[44] The Mahomedan law only requires a small deduction on account of
charity from what is necessary for subsistence; but of all superfluous
wealth (and such Abdûlla deemed his ten piastres) true believers were
expected to give one-fifth to the poor.
[45] "Pool-e-siyâh," literally, black coin.
[46] Cyrus. There is a common belief in Persia that an immense treasure
was buried by this monarch.
[47] Jehân-Penâh.
[48] Roobâi or Quatrain.