Sketches of Persia

by John Malcolm

When the second mission reached his court, the King of Persia was encamped at his summer-quarters of Sooltâneah, an extensive plain, whose elevation gives it a pleasant temperature during the hot season. The Elchee was welcomed, on his approach to the camp, by his old friend Nou Rôz Khan, whose personal appearance was unchanged by the ten years which had intervened since our last meeting. His manner, as usual, was cordial and frank; and he seemed particularly delighted to inform the Elchee of the king's continued favour. "His majesty," said Nou Rôz Khan, "desires me to say that he will be delighted to see you, and bids me assure you, that if you have met with any obstacles or difficulties on this mission,[137] they have not been occasioned by him."

The ceremonies of our approach to court, and of our visit to the king, prince, and ministers, were exactly the same as on the first mission. The king was, if possible, more friendly and gracious. Among other proofs of personal favour, he insisted on bestowing a distinguished mark of his regard on the Elchee, and the order of the Lion and Sun (the arms of Persia) was created for that purpose.[138] The investiture of this order took place on our visit of leave. Dresses of honour were sent for the Elchee and his suite. When we came to the tent at the entrance into the king's pavilion, we were met by one of the chief ministers, and a fermân or royal mandate was read, conferring on the Elchee the title of Khan or Lord, with the rank of Sipâh-Silâr or General. This fermân was then placed in his hat, it being the custom for a Persian noble, on receiving any honorary title from his king, to wear the patent of creation in his cap when he goes to court to return thanks. After we were seated, his majesty congratulated the Elchee on his accession of rank. "When you came here first," he said, "you were a Captain; you are now a General in your own country; I have made you a Khan and Sipâh-Silâr in mine. At your next visit, which must be soon, I shall expect you to be a Fermân-Fermâee or Ruler: but approach nearer."

The Elchee rose, and went up to the throne, on which the king was seated; and his majesty, taking up a diamond-star, began to pin it on the Elchee's coat. It was evidently the first time the royal hands had been so employed. "The king"—a title by which he often speaks of himself—"the king," said he, "does not understand this kind of business;" and he laughed heartily at his own awkwardness. However, he would not allow any one to help him, and having at length accomplished the task, he again congratulated the Elchee, saying, "You are now confirmed in my service; I can show no higher favour than this. And that star on your breast will convince all the world of the regard in which the king holds you."

Nothing was wanting to render this farewell audience kind and gracious. His majesty, on our rising to take leave, expressed his hope of seeing the Elchee again, saying, "Every second has a third;"[139] and when we were fifty yards from the throne, and making our last bow, departing from all usage, he exclaimed in a loud voice, to the Elchee, "Once more may God preserve you." The courtiers looked amazed at this deviation from established form; and the prime minister told the Elchee he ought to value it far beyond all the honours conferred upon him.

Enough has been said of the king: it remains to speak of the heir-apparent. I one day accompanied the Elchee to a review of some regular infantry, to which Abbas Meerzâ had invited him, and at which his highness commanded in person, and put the troops through all their manœuvres. When this review was over, he requested to see the Elchee's escort, consisting of a select party of English dragoons, some native cavalry from India, and a brigade of horse-artillery. He expressed great admiration of the manner in which this small body went through their evolutions, and said, with such models he trusted soon to have a fine army. This hope the Elchee's answer did not encourage. On a subsequent visit to the prince the topic was renewed; and I was somewhat surprised to find the Elchee so little of a courtier as to express the same sentiments to a prince, whose ears, it was evident, had long been soothed by far different language. Abbas Meerzâ listened with great patience, but his uneasy feelings were evident. "Why, from what you state," he observed, with much emotion, "I shall be an old man before I can make any progress with my present plans; and after all, they are likely to come to nothing." The Elchee said he was bound by his regard for his highness to speak the truth. "I am much obliged to you," answered the prince; "you think, I perceive, that the irregular horse of Persia are the best defence of our country; but they can never do what regular troops and cannon can." "But they can do much that regular troops and cannon cannot," replied the Elchee. "That is true," said the prince; and here ended the conversation. Neither party seemed convinced; Abbas Meerzâ continuing firm in his resolution to follow up his plans of improvement, and the Elchee appearing equally satisfied that these plans were nowise suited either to the present condition of Persia or the character of its people.

Abbas Meerzâ was, at this time, a young prince of engaging manners, handsome in person, and gifted with quickness and discernment. Owing to his intercourse with Europeans, he had thrown off many of those habits of state and ceremony which are so punctiliously observed by persons of high rank in Persia. He was now exercising his battalions, and he rode along the lines without an attendant. After the review, seeing the Elchee's curricle with a pair of fine Arab horses, he desired to have a drive. It was the first carriage of the kind he had ever been in, and he was quite delighted. As the horses trotted along the road to Teheran, he ordered his attendants to return. "Go," said he, laughing, "and tell my father I am on my way to his capital with the Elchee."

The curricle which had so delighted the prince was afterwards given to the king, who was equally pleased with it; and still more with the rapid movements and quick firing of two pieces of horse-artillery, which were presented to him. "These," he said, "will destroy all my enemies." The Elchee stated that what he had brought were only models, which the ingenuity of his majesty's subjects would soon copy; and suggested that it would be necessary to make roads for wheel carriages; and roads, he added, if generally introduced, would be found alike useful for pleasure, for commerce, and for war.

The wisdom which prompted this advice was lauded to the skies. Roads were admitted to be a great and obvious improvement, at once ornamental and profitable to Persia. Plans for making and keeping them in repair were required and furnished. The royal mandate, the Elchee was told, should be issued immediately: and he was much pleased at the thought of having given rise to a measure so good, and which he considered as preparing the way for the permanent improvement of the country. But, aware of the difficulties likely to obstruct the plan, he begged the minister of finance, Ameen-ood-Douleh, to confine the first attempt to the communication between Sooltâneah, Teheran, and Tebreez; and advised that the results of this experiment should determine the further prosecution of the scheme.