"Hear this true story, and see whither you may
be conducted by ambition."
Hafiz, _the Persian Poet_.
In one of the suburbs of Ispahan, under the reign of Abbas the First,
there lived a poor, working jeweller. In his neighbourhood he was known
by the name of Bebut the Honest. Numberless were the proofs of probity
and disinterestedness which had gained for him this title.
In all disputes and quarrels, he was the chosen arbiter. His decisions
were generally as conclusive as those of the Kazi himself. Laborious,
active, and intelligent, and esteemed by all who knew him, Bebut was
happy; and his happiness was still enhanced by love. Tamira, the
beautiful daughter of his patron, was the object of his attachment,
which she returned. One thought alone disturbed his felicity; he was
poor, and the father of Tamira would never accept a son-in-law without a
fortune. Bebut, therefore, often meditated upon the means of getting
rich. His thoughts dwelt so much on this subject, that ambition at
length became a dangerous rival to the softer sentiment.
There was a grand festival in the harem. In the midst of it, the great
Schah Abbas dropped the royal aigrette, called jigha, the mark of
sovereignty among the Mussulmans. In changing his position, that it
might be sought for, he inadvertently trod upon it, and it was broken.
The officer who had charge of the crown jewels, knew the reputation of
Bebut; to him he applied to repair this treasure. None but the most
honest could be trusted with an article of such value, and who was there
so honest as Bebut? Bebut was enraptured with the confidence. He
promised to prove himself deserving of it.
Now Bebut holds in his hands the richest gems of Persia and the Indies.
Ambition has already stolen into his bosom. Could it be silent on an
occasion like this? It ought to have been so, but it was not.
"A single one of these numerous diamonds," said Bebut to himself, "would
make my fortune and that of Tamira! I am incapable of a breach of trust;
but were I to commit one, would Abbas be the worse for it? No, so far
from it, he would have made two of his subjects happy without being
aware. Now, any body else situated as I am, would manage to put aside a
vast treasure out of a job like this; but one, and that a very small
one, of these many gems will be enough for me. It will be wrong, I
confess, but I will replace it by a false one, cut and enchased with
such exquisite taste and skill, that the value of the workmanship shall
make up for any want of value in the material. It will be impossible to
see the change; God and the Prophet will see it plainly enough, I know;
but I will atone for the sin, and it shall be my only one. Sometime or
other I will go a pilgrimage to Mashad, or even to Mecca, should my
remorse grow troublesome."
Thus, by the power of a "but," did Bebut the Honest contrive to quiet
his conscience. The diamond was removed: a bit of crystal took its
place, and the jigha appeared more brilliant than ever to the courtiers
of Abbas, who, as they never spoke to him but with their foreheads in
the dust, could, of course, form a very accurate estimate of the lustre
of his jewels.
One day during the spring equinox, as the chief of the sectaries of Ali,
according to the custom of Persia, was sitting at the gate of his palace
to hear the complaints of his people, a mechanic from the suburb of
Julfa broke through the crowd; he prostrated himself at the feet of the
Abbas, and prayed for justice; he accused the kazi of corruption, and of
having condemned him wrongfully. "My adversary and I," said he, "at
first appealed to Bebut the Honest, who decided in my favour." Being
informed who this Bebut was whose name for honesty stood so high in the
suburb of Julfa, the Schah ordered the kazi into his presence. The
monarch heard both sides and weighed the affair maturely. He then
pronounced for the decision of Bebut the Honest, whom he ordered the
kalantar, or governor of the city, immediately to bring before him.
When Bebut saw the officer and his escort halt before the shop where he
worked, a sudden tremor ran through his frame; but it was much worse
when, in the name of the Schah, the officer commanded him to follow. He
was on the point of offering his head at once, in order to save the
trouble of a superfluous ceremony which could not, he thought, but end
with the scimitar. However, he composed himself, and followed the
kalantar.
Arrived before Abbas, he did not dare lift his eyes, lest he should see
the fatal aigrette, and the false diamond rise up in judgment against
him. Half dead with fright, he thought he already beheld the fierce
rikas advancing with their horrid hatchets.
"Bebut, and you, Ismael-kazi," said Abbas to them, "listen. Since, of
the two, it is the jeweller who best administers justice, let the
jeweller be a judge, and the judge be a jeweller. Ismael, take Bebut's
place in the workshop of his master: may you acquit yourself as well in
his office, as he is sure to do in yours."
The sentence was punctually executed; and I am told that Ismael turned
out an excellent jeweller.
Bebut-kazi, on his side, took possession of his place. He was quite
determined to limit his ambition to becoming the husband of Tamira, and
living holily. He immediately asked her in marriage, and was immediately
accepted. Bebut thought himself at the summit of his wishes. He was
forming the most delightful projects, when again the kalantar of Ispahan
appeared at his door. Still, full of the fright into which this worthy
person's first visit had thrown him, he received him with more flurry
than politeness. He inquired, confusedly, to what he was indebted for
the honour of this second visit. The kalantar replied, "When I went to
the house of your patron to transmit to you the mandate of the
magnanimous Abbas, I saw there the beautiful Tamira with the gazelle
eyes, the rose of Ispahan, brilliant as the azure campac which only
grows in Paradise. Her glance produced on me the magical effect of the
seal of Solomon, and I resolved to take her for my wife. I went this
very morning to her father, but his word was given to you; and
Bebut-kazi is the only obstacle to my happiness. Listen! I possess great
riches, and have powerful friends; give up to me your claim on Tamira,
and, ere long, I will get you appointed divan-beghi; you shall be the
chief sovereign of justice in the first city in the universe; I will
give you my own sister for a wife, she who was formerly the nightingale
of Iran, the dove of Babylon. I leave you to reflect on my offer;
to-morrow I return for the answer."
The new kazi was thunderstruck. "What! yield my Tamira to him for his
sister! Why, she may be old and ugly; 'tis like exchanging a pearl of
Bahrein for one of Mascata; but he is powerful. If I do not consent, he
will deprive me of my place; and I like my place; and yet I would freely
sacrifice it for Tamira. But were I no longer kazi, would her father
keep his promise? Doubtful. I love Tamira more than all the world; but
we must not be selfish; we must forget our own interest, when it injures
those we love. To deprive Tamira of a chance of being the wife of a
kalantar would be doing her an injury. How could I have the heart to
force her to forego such a glory, merely for the sake of the poor
insignificant kazi that I am! I should never get over it; 'tis done! I
will immolate my happiness to hers! I shall be very wretched;
but--but--I shall be divan-beghi."
If Bebut the Honest, misled by dawning avarice, fancied he committed his
first fault for the sake of love, and not of ambition, he must have been
undeceived when these two rival passions came into competition, and he
could only banish the first. If his eyes were not opened, those of the
world began to be; for, from that moment, he lost (when he had more need
of them than ever) the esteem and confidence he had hitherto inspired,
and became known by the name of Bebut the Ambitious.
Not yet aware that the higher we rise in rank, the harder we find it to
be virtuous, he was for ever flattering himself with the future. Now,
his conduct was to be such as should edify the whole body of the
magistracy of Ispahan, of which he was become the head. He would not be
satisfied with going to Mecca to visit the black stone, the temple of
Kaaba, and purifying himself in the waters of Zim-zim, the miraculous
spring which God caused to issue from the earth for Agar, and her son
Ismael. He would do more; he would distribute a double zekath[4] to the
poor, and win back for the divan-beghi the noble title which the people
gave to the mechanic of the suburb of Julfa.
The first judgment which he pronounced as divan-beghi, bore evidence of
this excellent resolution; but an unfortunate event occurred, which
proved the truth of the following verse of the renowned Ferdusi, in his
poem of the "Schah-nameh."[5]
"_Our first fault, like the prolific poppy of Aboutige, produces seeds
innumerable. The wind wafts them away, and we know not where they fall,
or when they may rise; but this we know, they meet us at every step upon
the path of life, and strew it with plants of bitterness._"
The royal aigrette of Schah Abbas was again broken, and immediately
confided to an old comrade of Bebut. He had not, however, the surname of
"Honest," and his work was consequently subjected to a cautious
scrutiny. Now, it was discovered that a very fine diamond had been taken
from the jigha and fraudulently replaced; the unfortunate jeweller was
arrested and dragged to the tribunal of the divan-beghi. The ambitious
Bebut felt that there was no chance for him if he did not hurry the
affair to an immediate close. He forthwith condemned his innocent
fellow-labourer to the punishment due to his own iniquity, and the
sentence was executed on the instant.
His conscience told him that a man like him was unworthy to administer
justice to his fellow-citizens. A pilgrimage to Mecca would now no
longer suffice to appease his remorse; his ambition told him it could be
lulled by nothing but luxury and splendour. By severe exactions, he
amassed large sums; and by gifts contrived to gain over the most
influential members of the divan; he thus got appointed Khan of
Schamachia, and, from the modest distinctions of the judicature, he
passed to the turbulent honours of military power--a change by no means
rare in Persia.
Abbas was then collecting all his forces to march against the province
of Kandahar, and to reduce the Afghans, who have since ruled over his
descendants. In the battles fought on this occasion, Bebut the Ambitious
gained the signal favour of one equally ambitious; for Abbas was an
indefatigable conqueror, whom fortune, with all her favours, could never
satisfy.
The Khan of Schamachia was so thoroughly devoted to his master, so
blindly subservient to his will, that he presently became his confidant.
He was the very man for the favour of a despot; he had no opinion of his
own, and could always find good reasons for those to which he assented.
This, in the eyes of Abbas, constituted an excellent counsellor.
The monarch triumphed. Conqueror of the Kurdes, the Georgians, the
Turks, and the Afghans, he re-entered Ispahan in triumph. He had already
made it the capital of his dominions, and now proposed to himself to
enjoy there quietly, in the midst of his glory, the fruits of his vast
conquests; but the heart of the ambitious can never know repose. The
grandeur of the sovereign crushed the people; Abbas felt this; he knew
that, though powerful, he was detested; he trembled even in the inmost
recesses of his palace. In pursuance of the Oriental policy which has of
late years been introduced into Europe, he resolved to give a diversion
to the general hatred, which, in concentrating itself towards a single
point, endangered the safety of his throne. With this design, he
established, in the principal towns, numerous colonies from the nations
he had conquered, and gave them privileges which excited the jealousy of
the original inhabitants. The nation immediately divided into two
powerful factions, the one calling itself the Polenks, the other the
Felenks party. Abbas took care to keep up their strength; by alternately
exciting and moderating their violence, he distracted their attention
from the affairs of government. The disputes between them sometimes
looked very serious; but they were kept under until the festival of the
birthday of the Schah; on that occasion, the contenders were at last
permitted to show their joy by a general fight. Armed with sticks and
stones, they strewed the streets with bodies of the dying and the dead.
Then the royal troops suddenly appeared, and proclaimed the day's
amusements at an end, with slashes of the sabres drove back the Polenks
and the Felenks to their homes.
But no sooner had this great politician ceased to fear his people, than
he began first to dread his court, and next, his own family. Of his
three sons, two had, by his command, been deprived of sight. By the laws
of Persia, they were consequently declared incapable of reigning, and
imprisoned in the castle of Alamuth.[6] He had only one now remaining.
This was the noble and generous Safi Mirza--the delight of his father,
and the hope of the people. His brilliant qualities, however, were
destined only to be his destruction.
Abbas was one day musing, with some uneasiness, on the valour and
popular virtues of his son, when the young prince suddenly appeared. He
threw himself at his father's feet. He presented him a note which he had
just received, and in which, without discovering their names, the nobles
of the kingdom declared their weariness of his tyranny. They proposed to
the youth to ascend the throne, and undertook to clear his way to it.
Safi Mirza, indignant at a project which tended to turn him into a
parricide, declared all to the Sebah, and placed himself entirely at his
disposal. Abbas embraced him, covered him with caresses, and felt his
affection for him increase; but, from that moment, his fears redoubled.
His anxiety even prevented him from sleeping. In order to get at the
conspirators, he caused numbers of really innocent persons to die in
tortures; and, feeling that every execution rendered him still more
odious, he feared that his son would be again solicited, and would not
again have virtue to resist.
This state of terror and suspicion becoming insupportable to him, he
resolved to rid himself of it at any cost. A slave was ordered to murder
the prince. He refused to obey, and presented his own head. "Have I,
then, none but ingrates and traitors about me, to eat my bread and
salt?" cried Abbas,--"I swear by my sabre and by the Koran, that, to him
who will remove Safi Mirza, my generosity and gratitude shall he
boundless." Bebut the Ambitious advanced, and said,--"It is written,
that what the king wills cannot be wrong. To me thy will is sacred--it
shall be obeyed." He went immediately to seek the prince. He met him
coming out of the bath, accompanied by a single akta or valet. He drew
his sabre, and presenting the royal mandate,--"Safi Mirza," said he,
"submit! Thy father wills thy death!"--"My father wills my death!"
exclaimed the unfortunate prince, with a tone "more in sorrow than in
anger." "What have I done, that he should hate me?" And Bebut laid him
dead at his feet.
As a reward for his crime, Abbas sent him the royal vest, called the
calaata, and immediately created him his Etimadoulet, or Prime Minister.
Paternal love, however, presently resumed its power. Remorse now
produced the same effect upon the king, as terror had done before. His
nights seemed endless. The bleeding shade of his son incessantly
appeared before him, banishing the peace and slumber to which it had
been sacrificed. Shrouded in the garb of mourning, the monarch of Persia
dismissed all pleasure from his court; and, during the rest of his life,
could not be known by his attire from the meanest of his subjects.
One day he sent for Bebut, who found him standing on the steps of his
throne, entirely clothed in scarlet, the red turban of twelve folds
around his head,--in short, in the garb assumed by the kings of Persia
when preparing to pronounce the decree of death. Bebut shuddered. "It is
written," said the Sehah, "that what the king wills cannot be wrong.
Give me to-day the same proof of thy obedience which thou didst once
before. Bebut, thou hast a son--bring me his head!" Bebut attempted to
speak. "Bebut, Etimadoulet, Khan of Schamachia--is, then, thy ambition
satiated, that thou hesitatest to satisfy my commands? Obey! Thy life
depends on it!"
Bebut returned with the head of his only child. "Well," said the father
of Mirza, with a horrid smile, "How dost feel?"--"Let these tears tell
you how," answered the unhappy Khan: "I have killed with my own hand the
being I loved best on earth. You can ask nothing beyond. This day, for
the first time, I have cursed ambition, which could subject me to a
necessity like this."--"Go," said the monarch; "You can now judge what
you have made me suffer, in murdering my son. Ambition has rendered us
the two most wretched beings in the empire. But, be it your comfort,
that your ambition can soar no higher; for this last deed has brought
you on a level with your sovereign."[7]
Abbas received from his subjects and posterity the surname of THE GREAT.
Bebut the Ambitious was presently known only by the title of Bebut THE
INFAMOUS. It is said, he was a short time after stabbed by the son of
the unfortunate jeweller, whom he had so unjustly condemned to death
when divan-beghi. Thus were the words of the poet Ferdusi verified. His
first fault was the cause of all the others, and their common
punishment.--_Oriental Herald_.
[4] _Zekath_ is the Persian name for the tithe of alms which the
Koran enjoins to be distributed among the poor.
[5] _Schah-nameh_ signifies the royal book. It was composed by
order of Mahmoud the Gaznevide, and contains 60,000 distichs,
the history of the ancient sovereigns of Persia.
[6] That is to say, the _Castle of the Dead_. It was situated in
the Mazanderan, (the ancient Hircania), and had been the abode
of the Old Man of the Mountain, the Prince of Assassins.
[7] A king coolly ordering one of his subjects to cut off the
head of his own child, and being obeyed, is a circumstance so
monstrous, that it would appear beyond all possibility, if it
were not supported by numerous examples. But, incredible as it
may seem, it only paints the common manners of a court, where
tyranny, and the vices which it engenders, altogether extinguish
the influence of nature.
* * * * *