Sketches of Persia

by John Malcolm

Agar Meer, who disliked wit when it ridiculed religion, gravely replied to this sally, "Ameen Râzee's facts may be correct, though his metaphors are extravagant." "That may be true," said my Hindustânnee friend, Mahomed Hoosein, "but, according to the fable of the scorpion and tortoise, the former has no power over his nature."

"I have read," said the good Moonshee, "that a tortoise and a scorpion travelled the same road for a considerable distance in good fellowship. The latter, on the ground of this new friendship, asked the former to carry him over a deep stream. The tortoise complied; but what was his surprise to find his companion endeavouring with all his might to sting him! When he had placed him safe on the opposite shore, he turned to him and said, 'Are not you the most wicked and ungrateful of reptiles? But for me you must either have given up your journey, or have been drowned in that stream, and what is my reward? If it had not been for the armour which God has given me, I should have been stung to death.' 'Blame me not,' said the scorpion, in a supplicatory tone, 'it is not my fault; it is that of my nature; it is a constitutional habit[89] I have of stinging!'" "Now," said Mahomed Hoosein, not wishing to offend his brother of the pen, "this fable certainly applies to scorpions in general; those of Cashan may be different: they may have that regard for strangers which Aga Meer has stated them to have, on the authority of Ameen Râzee." "It may be so,"[90] I remarked; and this phrase of doubtful assent put an end (as in Persia it is always meant to do) to all further discussion on the subject.

We left Cashan without any of our party being stung, which is a negative proof in favour of Ameen Râzee and other authors who have eulogized its scorpions; but the point cannot yet be considered as determined. It will no doubt therefore continue to receive, as it has hitherto, the attention of all travellers who possess learning, and are curious in their research after facts of natural history.

The inhabitants of Cashan, like those of Isfahan, are more celebrated as silk weavers than warriors. When Nadir Shâh returned from India he published a proclamation, permitting the followers of his army to return to their homes. It is narrated that thirty thousand of those who belonged to Cashan and Isfahan applied to this monarch for a guard of a hundred musketeers to escort them safe to their wives and children. "Cowards!" exclaimed he, in a fury; "Would I were a robber again for the sake of waylaying and plundering you all. Is not my success a miracle," said he to those around him, "with such a set of dastards in my camp!"

This story and many others were told us as we were sitting in one of the cool rooms of the palace of Fin, commenting on the qualities of the Câshânees.

My old friend Mahomed Shereef Khan Burgshattee told me he had once a convincing proof that a Câshânee might be a brave man. "On returning," said he, "from the pursuit of a small party of plundering Tûrkûmâns, I found that ten of my men had surrounded a fine looking youth, who was on a dry spot in a morass, where not more than two could approach him at a time. He had only a sword and a spear, but refused to yield; inviting his opponents to use their fire-arms, since they durst not fight him on equal terms. Struck with his appearance and courage, I solicited him to surrender, and assured him he should be well treated. 'I know better,' said he, 'than to regard the promises of a faithless Persian, who the moment I was unarmed would maltreat and murder me.' I ordered my men to withdraw to a distance, and after making a vow he should be well used, and leaving my arms on the ground, I rode forward, saying, 'I will confide in you, though you dare not trust me.' The youth, subdued by this action, sprung from his horse, threw down his spear and sword, and hastened to kiss my stirrup; offering at the same time his services, which I accepted.

"I desired him to remount," continued Mahomed Shereef Khan, "and we rejoined my astonished followers. After complimenting him on his courage, I asked where he was born? 'At Cashan,' he said. 'You a Câshânee!' I replied with surprise. 'I am,' said he; 'my father was a silk weaver, and I had just begun to learn his business, being about twelve years of age, when having gone with some companions to amuse ourselves at a distance from the town, we were surprised and carried off by a party of Tûrkûmâns. I was adopted into the family of one of their chiefs, who carefully instructed me in horsemanship and the use of arms. I have ever since accompanied him in his plundering incursions into Persia and other countries.'

"Now," said the old Mehmandar, "this man continued twenty years with me; he only died about a twelvemonth ago, and maintained till the day of his death the character he had established at our first meeting. This example," he concluded, "satisfies me that it is possible the son of a weaver, if properly brought up, may be a brave man. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt these silk manufactories give bad habits, and spoil many a good soldier."

Our first march from Cashan was to the câravânserâi of Sinsin. We found the village, which had been very flourishing thirty years ago, a complete ruin, with only a few inhabitants. Amongst these was an old man, who gave me an account of the incursions of parties of savage Tûrkûmâns, who year after year laid waste their fields, plundered their dwellings, and carried their wives and children into slavery.