"'Whosoever desireth to succeed, and to avoid trouble and danger, will not wander in the path of the wicked.'"[62]
Here our bard ended his battle, which differs in some stanzas from my copy of Firdousee; but that is not surprising, as I never knew two copies of this celebrated work that did not differ in a hundred places.
The attendants of the mission, particularly those who were of the ancient Persian tribes, and who hate the Tartars, were delighted with Joozee Beg's battle. We all expressed our satisfaction, and were assured by the minstrel that we were kaderdâns, judges of merit. But his delight appeared incomplete, until he heard the Elchee add to his thanks an order for a present of a few piastres. He then said he was "happy—he was honoured;" that he had often heard of the fame of the English nation, but was now, from personal observation, quite satisfied they were the first people upon earth.
The journey from Shiraz to Isfahan abounds with remains of the former glory of Persia. The greatest is the far-famed Persepolis of the Greeks, the Elemais of the Hebrews, and the Istakhar of the Persians. Every traveller has described these magnificent ruins, which the natives of the country distinguish by the name of Chehl-Menâr (forty[63] pillars), and Tekht-e-Jemsheed (throne of Jemsheed). Some conjecture that it was formerly a palace, others are quite positive it must have been a temple. I am much too wise to venture on speculations which have bewildered so many learned men. My reader must therefore be satisfied with a conversation I had upon this abstruse subject with some of my fellow-travellers, when I visited these monuments of ancient grandeur.
"This building," said Aga Meer, "was the house of Solomon, at least so I have read in the History of Shiraz." "And what did the foolish writer of that book know about Solomon?" said Mahomed Hoosein Khan; "but the author, I suppose, concluded, that because Solomon was the wisest of men, he must choose Persia as his residence; and every Persian will agree in such a conclusion." "No doubt," said the mild Aga Meer, either not understanding the little nabob's sarcasm at the vanity of his countrymen, or not wishing to enter into farther discussion.
"People are divided," said the Khan, pleased with his own sally, "whether this was a palace or a temple; if it was built and inhabited by Jemsheed, it was probably both; for he says, in the Shâh-nâmeh, 'By the Divine favour, I am both a sovereign and a priest;'[64] and if this first and most wonderful man of Persia studied his ease and convenience half as much as his countrymen now do, it is most probable, that, to save himself trouble, he would join his palace and his temple together."
"You Europeans," continued Khan Sâhib, turning to me, "believe that Alexander, to please a beautiful lady, set fire to this palace in a spirit of mischief; we Mahomedans have the consolation to think this proud abode of unbelievers was destroyed when our first caliphs conquered Persia, through a spirit of holiness. It was a rule," said he, smiling, "of the first pious propagators of our religion, always to give to infidels an earnest in this world of what they were to expect in the next; so they and their profane works were included in one common sentence of destruction."
Though neither the Indian Moonshee, Mahomed Hoosein, nor the Persian Meerzâ, liked the levity with which my little friend treated such a serious subject; they saw he was in too lively a vein to expect to check him, but they looked grave. This, he observed, and to change the subject, asked me what I thought was the meaning of a figure, to which he pointed, half of whose body appeared rising out of a circle, and to which wings were attached? I told him, he could not apply to one who was more ignorant of such subjects than myself, but I would tell him what the learned of Europe had conjectured regarding this mystical figure.