Sketches of Persia

by John Malcolm

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.

Before I proceed further on my journey, I must introduce my reader to some of the principal characters, Indian and Persian, with whom I associated. These were my companions every where; and I owed much of the information and amusement I derived on my visit to Persia to their remarks and communications. No persons could differ more from each other than my friends. This resulted, in part, from their dispositions, but more from the opposite scenes in which they had passed their lives. But a short account of them will best exhibit their respective characters.

The first, Mahomed Hoosein Khan, is a person who is attached to the mission, more as a companion to the Envoy, than in any specific employment. He is my particular friend, and is one of almost every party in which I mix; rides with me, talks nonsense with me, besides cutting jokes, writing epigrams, and telling stories; therefore I must give a short sketch of him, otherwise he will never be understood. Khan Sâhib, or "my Lord," is the name by which my friend is usually known, though he has a right, from his inheritance, to the higher title of Nabob. He is about five feet three inches high; his face, though plain, has an expression which marks quickness and intelligence, and the lively turn of his mind has its effect heightened from an impression of gravity, conveyed by a pair of large spectacles, which, being short-sighted, he always wears. His frame is not robust, and his whole appearance indicates the over-care that has been bestowed upon his childhood, and the enervating pleasures in which his youth, according to the usage of Mahomedans of quality, has been passed. He has, however, notwithstanding early habits of luxury, if not of dissipation, received an excellent education. He is a tolerable Arabic scholar, and has few superiors in Persian; he writes that language with the greatest elegance, and is no mean composer, either in prose or verse. Add to these qualifications a cheerful disposition, an excellent memory, with a ready wit, and you have my little friend.

The father of Khan Sâhib was a Persian, who went, in early life, to improve his fortunes in India. He succeeded in recommending himself to Mr. Duncan at Benares, and, after that gentleman became Governor of Bombay, he appointed his Persian friend Resident at Abusheher, and in 1798 sent him on a mission to the court of Persia. This preferment naturally excited ambitious views: and, among other means by which he sought to ennoble his family, was the marriage of his eldest son, my friend, to the daughter of an ex-Prince of the Zend family, who being in exile, and poor, was glad that his falling star (to use an Asiatic figure) should come in conjunction with one that he thought was in the ascendant. But the father died soon after he had grafted his son on this branch of a decayed tree of royalty, leaving the latter what he often laughingly calls "The sad inheritance of poverty and rank combined with a most dignified wife," who, if he is to be believed, not unfrequently reminds him of her high birth, and is rather wont to dwell upon her condescension in allying herself to him. "I could," he added, the other day, "have given her some reasons for that act of prudence, but it would only have made her worse, and God knows what her violence might have prompted, so I kept quiet."

Here Khan Sâhib betrayed his foible, which is certainly extreme prudence. He is in the habit of wearing yellow boots with high heels, loose red cloth trowsers, which are half displayed by a tunic tucked up, like that of the most valiant among the horsemen of Persia. His high lamb's-wool cap has, when he is equipped for a march, the true military pinch; two small pistols and a dagger are stuck in his girdle, and to a waistbelt is fastened a powder-flask and a bag of bullets; a large sabre hangs by an embroidered cross-belt, while a shorter sword, for close quarters, is fastened to his saddle; to the front of which is attached a pair of holsters that contain two large horse-pistols. In spite of all these indications of desperate courage, aided by an upright and imposing seat on horseback, and sufficient boldness in galloping to and fro on a smooth plain, there is some want of that forward valour which depends more upon itself than the arsenal of great and small arms it carries for its defence. My friend is quite sensible of this deficiency, and is at times very happy in his allusions to the fact, and can very wittily philosophise upon the causes.—Want of stamina—coddled infancy—indulged youth—fear of his father—and terror of his royal wife, form the principal items in the list. "But," he is wont to add, "if I have, from a combination of causes, lost that strength of nerve which constitutes brute courage, I trust I have a manly spirit, the result of reflection, which, on proper occasions, you will always see me exert."

This is, no doubt, the case; but I never happened to be present on any of these "proper occasions," and I was one of a party, where we were almost diverted from thinking of danger by his ludicrous behaviour at its approach.

The Elchee having particular business when we were lying in Abusheher Roads, had determined to land; though the sea was rough, and the waves ran very high on the bar at the mouth of the harbour. The Khan, who had recently been attached to the Mission, insisted on going, though advised not: he was very courageous till we came on the bar, where the waves that chased each other seemed at every moment as if they would overwhelm our little bark. To each of these, as they rose and pursued us with their foaming crests, Khan Sâhib addressed a rapid invocation—"Allah, Allah, Allah!" (God, God, God!) and the moment we were safe from its fury, he, in a still more hurried way, repeated his gratitude; "Shooker, shooker, shooker!" (thanks, thanks, thanks!) These invocations and thanksgivings were repeated with great volubility and wonderful earnestness; Allah, Allah, Allah! and Shooker, shooker, shooker! continued to sound in our ears for a quarter of an hour; when "Al hamd ulillah!" (praise be to God!) pronounced in a slow and composed tone, proclaimed we were in smooth water. I rallied my friend[30] on the little composure he showed on this occasion; but he defended himself stoutly, saying, he always prayed twice as much at sea as on shore. This I believe; but he is on shore even an indifferent observer of the rites of his religion, and is suspected by some of the orthodox of our party of being a Sooffee, or philosophical Deist, which seems to me a general name, that includes all, from the saint who raves about divine love, to the sinner who scoffs at the rites of the worship of his country.