TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION

The author of this work was Ḥusām^u ’d-Dawlah Taymūr Mīrzā, [1] one of the nineteen sons of Ḥusayn ʿAlī Mīrzā,[1] Farmān-Farmā, the Governor of the Province of Fārs, and one of the sons of Fatḥ ʿAlī Shāh, Qājār.

On the death of Fatḥ ʿAlī Shāh, in A.H. 1250 (A.D. 1834), general confusion prevailed: the claimants to the Crown were many. The details of these claims and the actions of the various aspirants to establish them are exceedingly complicated and difficult to follow. The old Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān first mounted the throne at Teheran. His nephew the young Muḥammad Mīrzā was then Governor of Tabrīz, and his troops had not been paid for some time. However, receiving pecuniary support from the English ambassador, and moral support from the Russian, he marched on Teheran (putting out the eyes of a brother or two en route), and was met by the army (hastily paid up to date, and even in advance), of the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān. The moving spirit in Muḥammad Mīrzā’s army appears to have been an Englishman named Lynch, who, nominally in command of the artillery, virtually managed what cannot be better described than as “the whole show.” The camp of the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān awoke in the morning to discover that, during the night, their General had gone over to the enemy; and that Mr. Lynch, having pointed four big guns at their camp, was haranguing them from his position, and exhorting them to go home. His arguments appeared reasonable. Part of the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān’s army crossed over to Mr. Lynch, and part returned home. “In a moment, this fine army was disbanded, scattered like the stars of the Great Bear, every man going to his own place.”

Muḥammad Mīrzā now entered Teheran without the slightest opposition, and his uncle the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān, “in the greatest despondency,” placed the crown on his head and handed him the state jewels. Muḥammad Shāh (no longer Mīrzā) then proceeded to despatch the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān and most of his uncles and brothers to the dreaded fortress of Ardabīl.

Shayk͟h ʿAlī Mīrzā, Shayk͟h^u ’l-Mulūk, “though he had none of the requisites of sovereignty except a band of music,” was another prince that made an even more feeble bid for the throne. He was then Governor of Tūy Sarkān. Royal governors, in Persia, have bands that play in the evening; but a morning band is a prerogative of the Shāh. Shayk͟h ʿAlī Mīrzā ordered his band to play in the morning as well as in the evening, and thought that by so doing he had become Shāh. However, on receiving the unexpected news that Muḥammad Shāh was in Teheran, he tendered his submission, and was soon packed off to join the “caravan” at Ardabīl.

Ḥaydar Qulī Mīrzā, Ṣāḥib Ik͟htiyār, another royal prince, also made a burlesque attempt to obtain sovereignty. His own adherents split into two parties, quarrelled amongst themselves, and then at a moment’s notice turned him out of the city of which he was Governor. On his way to Isfahan he fell off his horse, and was carried into that city in a prostrate condition. Once or twice, after this, he flits across the page of history as a fugitive from the wrath of Muḥammad Shāh.

It must not be supposed that all this time the Farmān-Farmā, the father of our author and the eldest living son of the late Fatḥ ʿAlī Shāh, was idle. He seems to have been popular in Fārs, for Shīrāz was kind enough to offer him the crown of Persia. He induced his brother the Shujāʿ^u ’s-Salt̤anah, the Governor of Kirmān, to have coins struck in his name there, and also the K͟hut̤bah read in his name at the Friday prayers. He further sat on a throne in Shīrāz. A few days later, news of the arrival of Muḥammad Shāh in Teheran and of the abdication of the Z̤ill^u ’s-Sult̤ān, reached him. The Shujāʿ^u ’s-Salt̤anah, who had arrived at Shīrāz from Kirmān, was then placed in command of an army, and under him were two of the Farmān-Farmā’s sons, Najaf Qulī Mīrzā in command of the Cavalry, and Riẓā Qulī Mīrzā in command of the Infantry. The destination of the army appears to have been Isfahan, the inhabitants of which, it was hoped, would declare for the Farmān-Farmā. The season was winter. The second march was commenced in a storm of snow and rain. The plains became a lake: the hill passes were blocked by snow: men and horses died: guns sank in the mud: property was lost. Rations, too, ran short, and the country had lately been visited by locusts. Even proper guides were wanting. But worst of all, one march from Isfahan, Mr. Lynch was discovered blocking the way. In the night, three of Mr. Lynch’s artillerymen “deserted” to the Shīrāz camp, and tampered with its artillery. In the skirmish next morning, all the artillery horses of the Shīrāz camp went bodily over to Mr. Lynch. The remainder of the Shīrāz army scattered and disappeared, got entangled in the mountains, and retraced its steps to find Mr. Lynch with some artillery blocking one path, and a Mr. “Shir”—apparently another Englishman—blocking another.

The Shīrāz Commander-in-Chief, with his two nephews, and presumably a remnant of the army, eventually slunk back into Shīrāz, in a miserable plight from hunger and exhaustion. A grand Council was then held, and everybody talked, and the Farmān-Farmā listened to all in turn. One thing seems quite certain, no one did anything. Strange rumours now began to reach Shīrāz of weird Turkish troops that spoke no Persian, and were commanded by an ubiquitous Englishman. The merchants, panic-stricken, fled with their property. The city people revolted, and seized some towers; while the troops, of course, deserted to the other side. A faithful eunuch then informed the Farmān-Farmā that he had met some of the city people on their way to seize the gates, and that a plan had been concocted for capturing the Farmān-Farmā with all his relations, adding that the delay of one minute meant the loss of everything. Still the Farmān-Farmā shilly-shallied: still he maintained his attitude of keeping “one foot in the stirrup and one on the ground,” giving ear, first to the advice of his son to flee, and then to the advice of his brother the Shujāʿ^u ’s-Salt̤anah to stay. The result was, that the two elder princes were taken. The Farmān-Farmā was deported to Teheran, where he was honourably treated but speedily died. The Shujāʿ^u ’s-Salt̤anah was carried to Teheran, deprived of his sight en route, and then sent to enliven the family party at Ardabīl. The princes, Najaf Qulī Mīrzā, Riẓā Qulī Mīrzā, Taymūr Mīrzā the author of this Bāz-Nāma, with Nawāb Ḥājiya the mother of Najaf Qulī Mīrzā, and three more princes, brothers or half-brothers, narrowly effected their escape, and a month later reached Bag͟hdād in safety.

At that time relations between the English and Persian Courts were extremely friendly. The eldest prince, Riẓā Qulī Mīrzā, with his brothers Najaf Qulī Mīrzā, and Taymūr Mīrzā our author, started for England to obtain the mediation of William IV., reaching London viâ Damascus and Beyrout in the summer of 1836. Their journey from Damascus to Beyrout was as feckless and mismanaged as their expedition to Isfahan.

For four months the princes were a popular feature of London Society, and during that time succeeded in losing their hearts several times. Then, as they had obtained the object of their journey, Lord Palmerston having arranged matters to their satisfaction, they returned to Bag͟hdād and exile.

Najaf Qulī Mīrzā wrote an account in Persian of the events that occurred on the death of their grandfather Fatḥ ʿAlī Shāh, and of their own adventures in consequence, and he also kept a diary of their tour to England and back.

Asʿad Yaʿqūb K͟hayyāt̤,[2] a Syrian Christian who had accompanied the princes to Europe as Dragoman, secured this MS. in Bag͟hdād; but on his journey back to Syria he was held up by Bedouins and deprived of that portion of the MS. that treated of the actual flight of the princes from Shīrāz and of the arrest of their father—the illiterate Arabs mistaking these pages for the Holy Qurʾān. The remainder of the journal was translated by him into English, and under the title of a “Journal of a Residence in England and of a Journey from and to Syria, of their Royal Highnesses Reeza Koolee Meerza, Najaf Koolee Meerza, and Taymoor Meerza of Persia,” was printed in London for private circulation only. The present tragi-comic page of Persian history has been compiled, partly from this narrative, and partly from Persian sources.

Some twenty-eight years after the bid for sovereignty, and fourteen years after the death of their cousin Muḥammad Shāh, the two princes Riẓā Qulī Mīrzā and Taymūr Mīrzā started from Bag͟hdād to revisit their native land. Who knows what secret hopes they cherished, what dreams they dreamt of royal favour? In a few pathetic words, our author, in his Preface, informs us that, at the second stage of their journey, the truth of the sacred text, ‘And ye know not in what land death shall overtake you,’ was forcibly revealed to him: his brother suddenly sickened and died.

Taymūr Mīrzā was well received by Nāṣir^u ’d-Dīn Shāh, whose constant companion he became in all sporting expeditions. He died in A.H. 1291 (A.D. 1874); I am told, in Teheran.

In Persia, and round Bag͟hdād, Taymūr Mīrzā’s name is still a household word. “Ah,” exclaim the Persians when hawking is mentioned, “if Taymūr Mīrzā were only here.”

His treatise on Falconry, of which the present book is a translation, was composed in A.H. 1285 (A.D. 1868) and was originally lithographed in Teheran. A second, and perhaps a third, edition was lithographed in Bombay, a few pages on pigeons and game-fowl, apparently written in India, being added as an Appendix.

The present translation has been made from a copy of the original Teheran edition to which marginal notes have been added by a former owner. For the versification I am indebted to the assistance of poetical friends.

D. C. P.