Before quitting Nethenz I accompanied the Elchee in a ride through its streets and gardens, which are so intermingled as to give it a singular and pleasing appearance: you can scarcely tell whether you are in the town or the country. We saw plenty of the pears and peaches, for which my friend told me it was famous. As to its pretty ladies, they saw us, no doubt, through the trellis-work of their dark veils, while we could only dwell upon their beauties with the eyes of our imagination.
I complained to my friend, Khan Sâhib, of the privation of the innocent pleasure of gazing upon the features of a lovely female; and then I added, "What a mortification must it be for the lady to have her charms denied that tribute of admiration which is their due!" "True," answered my little friend; "it is very hard upon a few, but then think how much numbers owe to that veil, which conceals age and ugliness, as well as youth and beauty. I once," he observed, "fell violently in love with one of these veiled ladies, whom I saw sometimes at a window, and sometimes gliding like a phantom through the streets. She continued, for a month, to occupy all my waking thoughts, and the image of her beauties disturbed my rest. I first cast love-tokens into her windows, in the shape of nosegays; then I persuaded an old woman to pour out all the raptures of my soul at the feet of the object of my devotion. To make a long story short, I was at last promised an interview. I waited with impatience for the moment of anticipated delight. When admitted into the presence of my fair I became wild with joy; I praised her shape, the sweetness of her melodious voice, the captivating graces of her manner, and, above all, her beautiful face. She long resisted my entreaties to remove her veil. This I deplored in the words of Hâfiz, exclaiming,
'O alas![88] O alas! and O alas! that such a moon should be concealed behind a cloud.'
"What with prose, poetry, and flattery," added Khan Sâhib, "I succeeded at last. Would to God I had not! but perhaps it has done me good: for what I saw of my imaginary angel has reconciled me for life to veils and clouds."
As we were talking we arrived at a citadel which was the residence of the old Hâkim, or governor Hajee Abd-ool-Câsim, to whom the Elchee paid a visit. We were received in a room at the top of one of the highest turrets, from whence we had a commanding view of the surrounding scenery. Nothing could be more singular or beautiful. The valley of Nethenz, which is inclosed by mountains, is itself a succession of eminences and small hills. The fruitful gardens, which occupied every spot where there were no houses, extended eight miles. Seldom above one, and never more than two of these gardens, were upon the same level; they either appeared in a circle, converging towards the common centre of an eminence that rose above the others, or were seen sloping in flights along the hills that bordered upon the mountains. Rows of lofty sycamores and spreading walnuts marked the lines of the streets and the divisions of the gardens; and the latter were fenced round with thick mulberry hedges, whose leaves, the Hâkim informed us, fed innumerable silk-worms, the produce of which formed the finest of the silk manufactured at the cities of Cashan and Isfahan.
The sun was shining bright as we gazed upon this enchanting scene, and its beauty was greatly increased by numerous clear streams, which, pouring from the neighbouring hills, either flowed or were conducted among the gardens and orchards, where they appeared lost, till seen glistening through those parts where the foliage was lighter or wholly removed.
The Elchee was quite delighted with the prospect. After remaining for some time abstracted in contemplating its beauties, he turned round to the governor, and with assumed gravity proposed to change stations with him. "I should," said the old Hajee, with a faint smile, "make a bad Elchee; and the pleasure you have enjoyed in looking at this town from that window is the greatest you would ever know if you were its Hâkim." When making this last observation, he shook his head in a manner too plainly indicating that the scene of abundance with which he was surrounded, was to him the source of more trouble than enjoyment.
I mentioned my suspicions to my friend Hajee Hoosein, as he came to me with an evening kelliân. "Ah!" said he, imitating the exclamation of his countrymen on entering the charming vale of Desht-e-Arjun, "Irân hemeen-est! Irân hemeen-est! This is Persia! this is Persia! But God is just, as Sâdee says: he gives fertile fields, roses, and nightingales, with wicked men, to one country, and deserts and screech-owls, with righteous men, to another; and again he tells us, 'It is not the silk-worm but he that wears the silk vest that is to be envied.'"
I was quite satisfied with the meaning and moral of my friend's quotations, though I confess I have looked in vain over the pages of Sâdee to discover them in his volumes. But the Hajee, like many of his countrymen, has such a deference for that inimitable author, that he ascribes all sentiments that appear just to him, as the sole source of human wisdom.