"'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,"