Chapter IX: In Persia--Bushire and Shiraz, 1811

The Persia to whose seven millions of people Henry Martyn was the first in modern times to carry the good-news of God, was just the size of the India of his day. The Mohammedan majority of its scattered inhabitants, in cities, in villages, and wandering over its plains and deserts, had never been, and are not yet, as Shi'ahs, rigid members of Islam, fanatically aggressive against all others, like the orthodox Soonnis. After the apparent extinction of the cult of Zoroaster and the flight of the surviving remnant of Parsees to India, the successive ruling dynasties were liberal and tolerant in their treatment of Christians compared with other Moslem powers; more liberal than Christian Russia is to the Jews and the non-'orthodox' sects. When those cultured and enterprising brothers, Sir Anthony and Sir Thomas Sherley,[46] went from Oxford to the court of Persia, then in all its magnificence under Shah Abbas the Great, two centuries before Henry Martyn, that Shah sent one back as Persian envoy to the Christian powers of Europe, to establish an alliance for the destruction of the Turks. Shah Abbas made over Gombroon to them, calling it by his own name, Bunder Abbas, which it still retains, and his Majesty's grant used such language as this: 'Our absolute commandment, will, and pleasure is that our countries and dominions shall be from this day open to all Christian people _and to their religion_.... Because of the amitie now ioyned with the princes that professe Christ, I do give this pattent for all Christian merchants,' etc. Only the intolerance of the Portuguese, who, under Albuquerque, took the island of Ormuz, and so dominated the Persian Gulf till driven out by the English, led this great Asiatic monarch to except the power which Prince Henry the Navigator alone redeems from historical contempt to the present day.

The Suffavian dynasty gave place to the Afghan, and that to the short-lived but wide-spreading empire of Nadir Kooli Khan, from Delhi to the Oxus River and the Caspian Sea. Out of half a century's bloody revolutions, such as formed the normal course of the annals of Asia till Great Britain pushed its 'Peace' up from the Southern Ocean, Aga Mohammed Khan, of the Kajar clan, founded the present dynasty in 1795. His still greater nephew succeeded on his death three years after. Futteh Ali Shah became for the next thirty-eight years the close friend of the British Crown and the East India Company. Shah-in-Shah, or king of the four kings of Afghanistan, Georgia, Koordistan, and Arabistan, the ruler of Persia had now incorporated Arabistan in his own dominion, and had lost Afghanistan. But he still claimed the allegiance of the two subject-sovereigns of Georgia and Koordistan. His uncle had avenged on the people, and especially the beautiful women of Georgia, the transfer of the country by its Wali to the Russian Catherine II. Placed in the commanding centre of Western Asia, Futteh Ali almost immediately found himself the object of eager competition by the representatives of the Christian powers at Teheran. His revenue was estimated by so competent an authority as Sir John Malcolm at nearly six millions sterling. The crown jewels, chief of them the Sea of Light, or Derya-i-Noor, a diamond weighing 178 carats, were then the most valuable collection in the world; for though the Koh-i-Noor had remained with the Afghans, whence through the Sikhs it came to a greater Shah-in-Shah, the Queen-Empress of Great Britain, he still possessed not a little of Nadir's plunder of Delhi.

Sir Robert Ker Porter describes him about the time when Martyn reached his capital, as 'one blaze of jewels,' at the New Year festival of Norooz. On his head was a lofty tiara of three elevations, 'entirely composed of thickly-set diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds, so exquisitely disposed as to form a mixture of the most beautiful colours in the brilliant light reflected from its surface. Several black feathers, like the heron plume, were intermixed with the resplendent aigrettes of this truly imperial diadem, whose bending points were furnished with pear-formed pearls of an immense size. The vesture was of gold tissue nearly covered with a similar disposition of jewelry; and crossing the shoulders were two strings of pearls, probably the largest in the world. But for splendour nothing could exceed the broad bracelets round his arms and the belt which encircled his waist; they actually blazed like fire when the rays of the sun met them. The throne was of pure white marble raised a few steps from the ground, and carpeted with shawls and cloth of gold. While the Great King was approaching his throne, the whole assembly continued bowing their heads to the ground till he had taken his place. In the midst of solemn stillness, while all eyes were fixed on the bright object before them, which sat indeed as radiant and immovable as the image of Mithras itself, a sort of volley of words bursting at one impulse from the mouths of the mollahs and astrologers, made me start, and interrupted my gaze. This strange oratory was a kind of heraldic enumeration of the Great King's titles, dominions, and glorious acts. There was a pause, and then his Majesty spoke. The effect was even more startling than the sudden bursting forth of the mollahs; for this was like a voice from the tombs--so deep, so hollow, and, at the same time, so penetratingly loud.'[47]

That was the man to whose feet the French Emperor Napoleon and the Tsar Alexander, King George III. and the greatest Governor-General of the East India Company, the Marquess Wellesley, sent special embassies; the man from whom they sought secret treaties, lavishing on his courtiers more than royal gifts. To arrest the march of the Afghan invader, who a few years before had reached Lahore on his way to set up again at Delhi the house of Timour, and in order to foil the secret embassy sent by Napoleon, who had resolved to give England its death-blow through India, a young Scotsman, Captain Malcolm, was deputed to Teheran in 1801, following up a native envoy who had been most successful just before. This soldier diplomatist, who was afterwards to help Henry Martyn to a very different success, 'bribed like a king,' and returned with two treaties, political and commercial, but still more with the knowledge which fitted him to write his classic history, and make his second ambassage. For England failed to carry out the first so far as to help the Shah against Russia, and from that hour Persia has seen province after province overwhelmed by the wave from the north.

Taking alarm a second time, just before and after the Peace of Tilsit, both the Crown and the Company appointed plenipotentiaries to Teheran. It was Lord Minto's wise policy to protect our Indian empire 'by binding the Western Frontier States in a chain of friendly alliance.' Hence the Governor-General's four missions, to Sindh, to Lahore, to Cabul, and again to Persia under Sir John Malcolm. Sir Harford Jones appeared as ambassador from the Crown after Malcolm had left Teheran, and took advantage of a change in the political situation to secure the preliminary treaty of 1809, which renewed the pledge of its predecessor to assist the Shah with troops or a subsidy if any European forces should invade his territories. In a modified form this became the definitive treaty of March 14, 1812 (further altered in that of 1814), to arrange which Sir Gore Ouseley was sent out, superseding both Malcolm and Jones.[48] Sir Gore Ouseley became Henry Martyn's friend. Commended by Sir John Malcolm to his personal friends among the Persians, and officially encouraged by the British plenipotentiary, the Bengal chaplain seeking health had all the facilities secured to him that were possible to pursue the God-given mission of the apostle of Christ to the peoples of Persia and Arabia.

The strong and wise rule of Futteh Ali Shah kept Persia itself at peace, but he could not get the better of Russian intrigue and attack, even with the friendly offices of the British Government. Up till Martyn's arrival these vast regions had been wrested from the Shah-in-Shah: Georgia, Mingrelia, Daghistan, Sherwan, Karabagh, and Talish. During his presence in the country the negotiations with Russia were going on, which ended in 1813 in the Treaty of Gulistan, surrendering to the Tsar all he had taken, and apparently stopping his advance by a line of demarcation. But as its exact direction had to be settled by commissioners Russia has ever since continued steadily to strip Persia of its northern lands, and only the presence of the British Navy has kept it as yet out of the Persian Gulf.[49]

Such were the historical and political conditions amid which the missionary chaplain of India became a resident in the cities, and a traveller through the villages of Persia and Turkey at the age of thirty. He went there as the friend of Malcolm Sahib, whose gracious dignity and lavish gifts had made him a hero among the officials and many of the people of Persia. He went with letters of introduction from the Governor-General of India and the Governor of Bombay to the new British ambassador, who had lived at Lucknow, and must have known well of his work in the neighbouring station of Cawnpore. He went with the reputation of a man of God in the Oriental sense, and of a scholar who knew the sacred books of Mohammedans and Christians alike, and who sought the good of the people. The Armenian colonies at Calcutta and Bombay had commended him to the many members of their Church in Persia.

Bushire, or Abu Shahr, at which he began his mission to Persia, is the port of that province of Fars from which the whole empire takes its name. Its mixed Persian and Arab population, now numbering some fifteen thousand, its insanitary position on a spit of sand almost surrounded by the sea, and the filthy narrow streets hardly redeemed by the Char Burj or citadel, and the British Residency, do not attract the visitor, and he soon learns that the humid heat of its climate in summer is more insupportable than that even of the Red Sea. From Reshire, close by, in the Anglo-Persian War of 1856-7, General Havelock shelled the town when he pitched the camp of the force to the south of its gate. Henry Martyn was there in the worst season of May and June, when the thermometer rises to 100° in the shade, and sometimes 106°. He became the guest of an English merchant and his Armenian wife, and was received by the Armenians as a priest of great sanctity. His _Journal_ describes his receptions and daily occupations.

_1811, May 23._--Rode out with a party in the evening, or rather
in the afternoon, for the heat of the sun made me ill.

_May 24._--The Governor called on us; also the Armenian priest.
Received an answer from the ambassador, Sir Gore Ouseley, to a
letter I sent him from Muscat.

_May 25._--In the evening called with the two Captains, the
Resident, and the Captain of his guard, on the Governor. In
consequence of a letter I brought for him from General Malcolm,
he was very particular in his attentions, seated me on his own
seat, and then sat by my side apart from the rest. I observed
that a Christian was not allowed to enter a mosque; he said,
'No,--do you wish to hear the prayers?' I said, 'No, but the
preaching, if there is any;' he said there were no preachers
except at Yezd.

_May 26._ (Sunday.)--The Europeans assembled for Divine service,
which was performed at the Resident's. I preached on 1 Cor. xv.:
'For He must reign till He hath put all enemies under His feet,'
etc. In the evening I went, at the padre's request, to the
Armenian church. There was the same disagreeable succession of
unmeaning ceremonies and noisy chants as at Bombay. I was
introduced within the rails, and at the time of incense I was
censed, as the padre afterwards desired me to observe, four
times, whereas the laity have the honour done them but once. I
asked the old man what was meant by burning incense. He said it
was in imitation of the Wise Men of the East, who offered
incense to Christ. I told him, Why then do you not offer myrrh
and gold? To this he made no reply. Walking afterwards with him
by the sea-side, I tried to get into a conversation suitable to
our profession as ministers, speaking particularly of the
importance of the charge entrusted to us. Nothing could be more
vapid and mean than his remarks.

_May 27._--Very ill, from head-ache and overpowering sleepiness,
arising, as I suppose, from a stroke of the sun. As often as I
attempted to read, I fell asleep, and awoke in weakness and
pain. How easily may existence be embittered; still I will say,
'Not my will, but Thine be done.' In the evening a Jewish
goldsmith called with a fine boy, who read the Hebrew fluently.
Grief has marked the countenance of the Eastern Jews in a way
that makes them indescribably interesting. I could have wept
while looking at them. O Lord, how long? Will Thine anger burn
for ever?--is not justice yet satisfied? This afflicted people
are as much oppressed in Persia as ever. Their women are not
allowed to veil, as all others are required to do; hence, if
there be one more than ordinarily beautiful, she is soon known,
and a khan or the king sends for her, makes her a Mahometan, and
puts her into the harem. As soon as he is tired, she is given to
another, and then to another, till she becomes the property of
the most menial servant; such is the degradation to which the
daughters of Israel are subjected.

_May 28._--Through the infinite and unmerited goodness of God I
am again restored, and able to do something in the way of
reading. The Resident gave us some account this evening of the
moral state of Persia. It is enough to make one shudder. If God
rained down fire upon Sodom and Gomorrah, how is it that this
nation is not blotted out from under heaven? I do not remember
to have heard such things of the Hindus, except the Sikhs; they
seem to rival the Mahometans.

For personal comfort and freedom from insult or attack, Henry Martyn, when in Bushire, ordered the usual wardrobe of a Persian gentleman. He had suffered his beard and moustachios to vegetate undisturbed since leaving India, as he wrote to Corrie. In conical Astrakhan cap, baggy blue trousers, red boots, and light chintz tunic and _chogha_ or flowing coat, mounted on a riding pony, and followed by his Armenian servant on a mule, with another mule for his baggage, he set out on May 30, 1811, for Shiraz. His companion was a British officer. The party formed a large caravan with some thirty horses and mules, carrying goods to the ambassador. They marched by night, in the comparative coolness of 100°, to which the thermometer fell from the noonday heat of 126°, when they lay panting in their tents protected from the scorching dry wind by heavy clothing. The journey of some 170 miles occupied the first nine days of June. After ninety miles over a hot sandy plain the traveller rises, by four rocky _kotuls_ or inclines, so steep as to be called ladders, over the spurs of the Zagros range into a cooler region at Kaziroon, on the central plateau of Iran, and then passes through the most delightful valleys, wooded or clad with verdure, to the capital, Shiraz, surrounded by gardens and by cemeteries.

_May 30._--Our Persian dresses being ready, we set off this
evening for Shiraz. Our kafila consisted of about thirty horses
and mules; some carrying things to the ambassador, the rest for
our servants and luggage; the animal for my use was a yaboo or
riding pony, a mule for my trunks, and one for my servant
Zechariah, an Armenian of Ispahan. It was a fine moonlight
night, about ten o'clock, when we marched out of the gate of
Bushire, and began to make our way over the plain. Mr. B., who
accompanied me a little way, soon returned. Captain T. went on,
intending to accompany us to Shiraz. This was the first time we
had any of us put off the European, and the novelty of our
situation supplied us with many subjects for conversation for
about two hours. When we began to flag and grow sleepy, and the
kafila was pretty quiet, one of the muleteers on foot began to
sing: he sang with a voice so plaintive that it was impossible
not to have one's attention arrested. At the end of the first
tune he paused, and nothing was heard but the tinkling of the
bells attached to the necks of the mules; every voice was
hushed. The first line was enough for me, and I dare say it set
many others thinking of their absent friends. 'Without thee my
heart can attach itself to none.' It is what I have often felt
on setting out on a journey. The friends left behind so absorb
the thoughts, that the things by the wayside are seen without
interest, and the conversation of strangers is insipid. But
perhaps the first line, as well as the rest, is only a promise
of fidelity, though I did not take it in that sense when I first
heard it. The following is perhaps the true translation:

Think not that e'er my heart can dwell
Contented far from thee;
How can the fresh-caught nightingale
Enjoy tranquillity?

Forsake not then thy friend for aught
That slanderous tongues can say;
The heart that fixes where it ought,
No power can rend away.

Thus we went on, and as often as the kafila by their dulness and
sleepiness seemed to require it, or perhaps to keep himself
awake, he entertained the company and himself with a song. We
met two or three other kafilas taking advantage of the night to
get on. My loquacious servant Zachary took care to ask every one
whence they came, and by that means sometimes got an answer
which raised a laugh against him.

_June 1._--At sunrise we came to our ground at Ahmeda, six
parasangs, and pitched our little tent under a tree: it was the
only shelter we could get. At first the heat was not greater
than we had felt it in India, but it soon became so intense as
to be quite alarming. When the thermometer was above 112°, fever
heat, I began to lose my strength fast; at last it became quite
intolerable. I wrapped myself up in a blanket and all the warm
covering I could get, to defend myself from the external air; by
which means the moisture was kept a little longer upon the body,
and not so speedily evaporated as when the skin was exposed;
one of my companions followed my example, and found the benefit
of it. But the thermometer still rising, and the moisture of the
body being quite exhausted, I grew restless, and thought I
should have lost my senses. The thermometer at last stood at
126°: in this state I composed myself, and concluded that though
I might hold out a day or two, death was inevitable. Captain T.,
who sat it out, continued to tell the hour, and height of the
thermometer; and with what pleasure did we hear of its sinking
to 120°, 118°, etc. At last the fierce sun retired, and I crept
out, more dead than alive. It was then a difficulty how I could
proceed on my journey: for besides the immediate effects of the
heat, I had no opportunity of making up for the last night's
want of sleep, and had eaten nothing. However, while they were
loading the mules, I got an hour's sleep, and set out, the
muleteers leading my horse, and Zechariah, my servant, an
Armenian, of Ispahan, doing all in his power to encourage me.
The cool air of the night restored me wonderfully, so that I
arrived at our next _munzil_ with no other derangement than that
occasioned by want of sleep. Expecting another such day as the
former, we began to make preparation the instant we arrived on
the ground. I got a tattie made of the branches of the
date-tree, and a Persian peasant to water it; by this means the
thermometer did not rise higher than 114°. But what completely
secured me from the heat was a large wet towel, which I wrapped
round my head and body, muffling up the lower part in clothes.
How could I but be grateful to a gracious Providence, for giving
me so simple a defence against what I am persuaded would have
destroyed my life that day! We took care not to go without
nourishment, as we had done: the neighbouring village supplied
us with curds and milk. At sunset, rising up to go out, a
scorpion fell upon my clothes; not seeing where it fell, I did
not know what it was; but Captain T., pointing it out, gave the
alarm, and I struck it off, and he killed it. The night before
we found a black scorpion in our tent; this made us rather
uneasy; so that though the kafila did not start till midnight,
we got no sleep, fearing we might be visited by another
scorpion.

_June 2._--We arrived at the foot of the mountains, at a place
where we seemed to have discovered one of Nature's ulcers. A
strong suffocating smell of naphtha announced something more
than ordinarily foul in the neighbourhood. We saw a river:--what
flowed in it, it seemed difficult to say, whether it were water
or green oil; it scarcely moved, and the stones which it laved
it left of a greyish colour, as if its foul touch had given them
the leprosy. Our place of encampment this day was a grove of
date-trees, where the atmosphere, at sunrise, was ten times
hotter than the ambient air. I threw myself down on the burning
ground, and slept; when the tent came up I awoke, as usual, in a
burning fever. All this day I had recourse to the wet towel,
which kept me alive, but would allow of no sleep. It was a
sorrowful Sabbath; but Captain T. read a few hymns, in which I
found great consolation. At nine in the evening we decamped. The
ground and air were so insufferably hot, that I could not travel
without a wet towel round my face and neck. This night, for the
first time, we began to ascend the mountains. The road often
passed so close to the edge of the tremendous precipices, that
one false step of the horse would have plunged his rider into
inevitable destruction. In such circumstances I found it useless
to attempt guiding the animal, and therefore gave him the rein.
These poor animals are so used to journeys of this sort, that
they generally step sure. There was nothing to mark the road but
the rocks being a little more worn in one place than in another.
Sometimes my horse, which led the way, as being the muleteer's,
stopped, as if to consider about the way: for myself, I could
not guess, at such times, where the road lay, but he always
found it. The sublime scenery would have impressed me much, in
other circumstances; but my sleepiness and fatigue rendered me
insensible to everything around me. At last we emerged _superas
ad auras_, not on the top of a mountain to go down again, but to
a plain, or upper world. At the pass, where a cleft in the
mountain admitted us into the plain, was a station of Rahdars.
While they were examining the muleteer's passports, etc., time
was given for the rest of the kafila to come up, and I got a
little sleep for a few minutes.

_June 4._--We rode briskly over the plain, breathing a purer
air, and soon came in sight of a fair edifice, built by the king
of the country for the refreshment of pilgrims. In this
caravanserai we took our abode for the day. It was more
calculated for Eastern than European travellers, having no means
of keeping out the air and light. We found the thermometer at
110°. At the passes we met a man travelling down to Bushire with
a load of ice, which he willingly disposed of to us. The next
night we ascended another range of mountains, and passed over a
plain, where the cold was so piercing that with all the clothes
we could muster we were shivering. At the end of this plain we
entered a dark valley, contained by two ranges of hills
converging one to another. The muleteer gave notice that he saw
robbers. It proved to be a false alarm; but the place was fitted
to be a retreat for robbers; there being on each side caves and
fastnesses from which they might have killed every man of us.
After ascending another mountain, we descended by a very long
and circuitous route into an extensive valley, where we were
exposed to the sun till eight o'clock. Whether from the sun or
from continued want of sleep, I could not, on my arrival at
Kaziroon, compose myself to sleep; there seemed to be a fire
within my head, my skin like a cinder, and the pulse violent.
Through the day it was again too hot to sleep; though the place
we occupied was a sort of summer-house in a garden of
cypress-trees, exceedingly well fitted up with mats and coloured
glass. Had the kafila gone on that night, I could not have
accompanied it; but it halted there a day, by which means I got
a sort of night's rest, though I awoke twenty times to dip my
burning hand in water. Though Kaziroon is the second greatest
town in Fars, we could get nothing but bread, milk, and eggs,
and those with difficulty. The Governor, who is under great
obligations to the English, heard of our arrival, but sent no
message.

_June 5._--At ten we left Kaziroon and ascended a mountain: we
then descended from it on the other side into a beautiful
valley, where the opening dawn discovered to us ripe fields of
wheat and barley, with the green oak here and there in the midst
of it. We were reminded of an autumnal morning in England.
Thermometer 62°.

_June 6._--Half-way up the Peergan Mountain we found a
caravanserai. There being no village in the neighbourhood, we
had brought supplies from Kaziroon. My servant Zachary got a
fall from his mule this morning, which much bruised him; he
looked very sorrowful, and had lost much of his garrulity.

_June 7._--Left the caravanserai at one this morning, and
continued to ascend. The hours we were permitted to rest, the
mosquitoes had effectually prevented me from using, so that I
never felt more miserable and disordered; the cold was very
severe; for fear of falling off, from sleep and numbness, I
walked a good part of the way. We pitched our tent in the vale
of Dustarjan, near a crystal stream, on the banks of which we
observed the clover and golden cup: the whole valley was one
green field, in which large herds of cattle were browsing. The
temperature was about that of spring in England. Here a few
hours' sleep recovered me in some degree from the stupidity in
which I had been for some days. I awoke with a light heart, and
said: 'He knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we are but
dust. He redeemeth our life from destruction, and crowneth us
with loving kindness and tender mercies. He maketh us to lie
down in the green pastures, and leadeth us beside the still
waters.' And when we leave this vale of tears, there is 'no more
sorrow, nor sighing, nor any more pain.' 'The sun shall not
light upon thee, nor any heat; but the Lamb shall lead thee to
living fountains of waters.'

_June 8._--Went on to a caravanserai, three parasangs, where we
passed the day. At night set out upon our last march for Shiraz.
Sleepiness, my old companion and enemy, again overtook me. I was
in perpetual danger of falling off my horse, till at last I
pushed on to a considerable distance beyond the kafila, planted
my back against a wall, and slept I know not how long, till the
good muleteer came up and gently waked me.

_June 9._ (Sunday.)--By daylight we found ourselves in the plain
of Shiraz. We went to the halting-place outside the walls of the
city, but found it occupied; however, after some further delay,
we were admitted with our servants into another; as for the
kafila, we saw no more of it. The ambassador, Sir Gore Ouseley,
was encamped near us; Sir William and Major D'Arcy, and Dr.
Sharp, called on us, but I did not see the two first, being
asleep at the time. In the evening we dined with his excellency,
who gave us a general invitation to his table. Returned to our
garden, where we slept.

_June 10._--Went this morning to Jaffir Ali Khan's, to whom we
had letters from General Malcolm, and with whom we are to take
up our abode. After the long and tedious ceremony of coffee and
_kaleans_ (pipes), breakfast made its appearance on two large
trays: curry, pilaws, various sweets cooled with snow and
perfumed with rose-water, were served in great profusion in
china plates and basins, a few wooden spoons beautifully carved;
but being in a Persian dress, and on the ground, I thought it
high time to throw off the European, and so ate with my hands.
After breakfast Jaffir took me to a summer-house in his garden,
where his brother-in-law met us, for the purpose of a
conversazione. From something I had thrown out at breakfast
about Sabat, and accident, he was curious to know what were our
opinions on these subjects. He then began to explain his own
sentiments on Soofi-ism, of which it appeared he was a
passionate admirer.

_June 11._--Breakfasted at Anius with some of the Embassy, and
went with them afterwards to a glass-house and pottery.
Afterwards called on Mr. Morier, secretary to the Embassy, Major
D'Arcy, and Sir W. Ouseley. Our host, Jaffir Ali Khan, gave us a
good deal of information this evening, about this country and
government. He used to sit for hours with the king at Teheran
telling him about India and the English.

_June 12._--Employed about _Journal_, writing letters, reading
_Gulistan_, but excessively indolent. In the morning I enjoyed
much comfort in prayer. What a privilege to have a God to go to,
in such a place, and in such company. To read and pray at
leisure seemed like coming home after being long abroad. Psalm
lxxxix. was a rich repast to me. Why is it not always thus with
me?

At Shiraz Henry Martyn was in the very heart of old Persia, to which the eldest son of Shem had given his name, Elam. One of the greatest of the Shahs, Kareem Khan, made Shiraz his capital, instead of the not distant Persepolis, which also Martyn visited. The founder of the present dynasty levelled its walls and desolated its gardens, but the city of the six gates still dominates the fine valley which no tyrant could destroy, and has still a pleasing appearance, though its Dewan Khana has been stripped of the royal pillars to adorn the palace of the new capital of Teheran. Even Timour respected Shiraz; when red with the blood of Ispahan, he sent for Hafiz, and asked how the poet dared to dispose of the Tartar's richest cities, Bokhara and Samarcand, for the mole on his lady's cheek. 'Can the gifts of Hafiz ever impoverish Timour?' was the answer; and Shiraz was spared. Kareem Khan long after built mausoleums over the dust of the Anacreon of Persia, and over that of Sadi, its Socrates in verse, as Sir Robert Ker Porter well describes the author of the _Gulistan_, which was Martyn's daily companion at this time.

We have an account of Shiraz[50] and the people of Persia, written six years before Martyn's visit, by Edward Scott Waring, Esq., of the Bengal Civil Establishment, who, led by ill-health and curiosity, followed the same route by Bushire and Kaziroon to the city. He is sceptical as to those splendours which formed the theme of Hafiz, and describes the city as 'worth seeing, but not worth going to see.' The tomb of the poet[51] the Hafizieh garden he found to be of white marble, on which two of his odes were very beautifully cut; a few durweshes daily visited the spot and chanted his verses. Mr. George N. Curzon, M.P.,[52] the latest visitor, contrasts the grave of Hafiz with that of his contemporary Dante, at Ravenna. Sadi's grave was then quite neglected; no one had carved on it the beautiful epitaph (paraphrased by Dryden) which he wrote for himself on the _Bostan_: 'O passenger! who walkest over my grave, think of the virtuous persons who have gone before me. What has Sadi to apprehend from being turned into dust? he was but earth when alive. He will not continue dust long, for the winds will scatter him over the whole universe.' Yet as long as the garden of knowledge has blossomed not a nightingale has warbled so sweetly in it. It would be strange if such a nightingale should die, and not a rose grow upon its grave. Sir Robert Ker Porter, twelve years later, found both spots alike neglected. One poet had written of the garden where Hafiz was buried, 'Paradise does not boast such lovely banks as those of Rocknabeel, nor such groves as the high-scented fragrance of the bowers of Mosella.' Another now sadly writes, 'Though the bowers of love grew on its banks, and the sweet song of Hafiz kept time with the nightingale and the rose, the summer is past and all things are changed.'

Six years after Henry Martyn's residence in Shiraz, Sir Robert Ker Porter entered the city, which to him, as to every Christian or even English-speaking man, became thenceforth more identified with this century's apostle to the Persians than with even Hafiz and Sadi. 'Faint with sickness and fatigue,' he writes,[53] 'I felt a momentary reviving pleasure in the sight of a hospitable city, and the cheerful beauty of the view. As I drew near, the image of my exemplary countryman, Henry Martyn, rose in my thoughts, seeming to sanctify the shelter to which I was hastening. He had approached Shiraz much about the same season of the year, A.D. 1811, and like myself was gasping for life under the double pressure of an inward fire and outward burning sun. He dwelt there nearly a year, and on leaving its walls the apostle of Christianity found no cause for shaking off the dust of his feet against the Mohammedan city. The inhabitants had received, cherished and listened to him; and he departed thence amidst the blessings and tears of many a Persian friend. Through his means the Gospel had then found its way into Persia, and, as it appears to have been sown in kindly hearts, the gradual effect hereafter may be like the harvest to the seedling. But, whatever be the issue, the liberality with which his doctrines were permitted to have been discussed, and the hospitality with which their promulgation was received by the learned, the nobles, and persons of all ranks, cannot but reflect lasting honour on the Government, and command our respect for the people at large. Besides, to a person who thinks at all on these subjects, the circumstances of the first correct Persian translation of the Holy Scriptures being made at Shiraz, and thence put into the royal hands and disseminated through the empire, cannot but give an almost prophetic emphasis to the transaction, as arising from the very native country, Persia Proper, of the founder of the empire who first bade the temple of Jerusalem be rebuilt, who returned her sons from captivity, and who was called by name to the Divine commission.'

As the guest of Jaffir Ali Khan, now in his house in Shiraz, and now in his orange summer garden, Henry Martyn gave himself up to the two absorbing duties of making a new translation of the New Testament into Persian, assisted by his host's brother-in-law, Mirza Seyd Ali Khan, and of receiving and, in the Pauline sense, disputing with the learned Mohammedans of the city and neighbourhood. But all through his inner life, sanctified by his spiritual experience and intensifying that, there continued to run the love of Lydia Grenfell.

TO LYDIA GRENFELL

Shiraz: June 23, 1811.

How continually I think of you, and indeed converse with you, it
is impossible to say. But on the Lord's day in particular, I
find you much in my thoughts, because it is on that day that I
look abroad, and take a view of the universal church, of which I
observe that the saints in England form the most conspicuous
part. On that day, too, I indulge myself with a view of the
past, and look over again those happy days, when, in company
with those I loved, I went up to the house of God with a voice
of praise. How then should I fail to remember her who, of all
that are dear to me, is the dearest? It is true that I cannot
look back upon many days, nor even many hours passed with
you--would they had been more--but we have insensibly become
more acquainted with each other, so that, on my part at least,
it may be said that separation has brought us nearer to one
another. It was a momentary interview, but the love is lasting,
everlasting. Whether we ever meet again or not, I am sure that
you will continue to feel an interest in all that befalls me.

After the death of my dear sister, you bid me consider that I
had one sister left while you remained; and you cannot imagine
how consolatory to my mind this assurance is. To know that there
is one who is willing to think of me, and has leisure to do so,
is soothing to a degree that none can know but those who have,
like me, lost all their relations.

I sent you a letter from Muscat, in Arabia, which I hope you
received; for if not, report will again erase my name from the
catalogue of the living, as I sent no other to Europe. Let me
here say with praise to our ever-gracious Heavenly Father, that
I am in perfect health; of my spirits I cannot say much; I fancy
they would be better were 'the beloved Persis' by my side. This
name, which I once gave you, occurs to me at this moment, I
suppose, because I am in Persia, entrenched in one of its
valleys, separated from Indian friends by chains of mountains
and a roaring sea, among a people depraved beyond all belief, in
the power of a tyrant guilty of every species of atrocity.
Imagine a pale person seated on a Persian carpet, in a room
without table or chair, with a pair of formidable moustachios,
and habited as a Persian, and you see me.

_June 26._--Here I expect to remain six months. The reason is
this: I found on my arrival here, that our attempts at Persian
translation in India were good for nothing; at the same time
they proposed, with my assistance, to make a new translation. It
was an offer I could not refuse, as they speak the purest
dialect of the Persian. My host is a man of rank, his name
Jaffir Ali Khan, who tries to make the period of my captivity as
agreeable as possible. His wife--for he has but one--never
appears; parties of young ladies come to see her, but though
they stay days in the house, he dare not go into the room where
they are. Without intending a compliment to your sex, I must say
that the society here, from the exclusion of females, is as dull
as it can well be. Perhaps, however, to a stranger like myself,
the most social circles would be insipid. I am visited by all
the great and the learned; the former come out of respect to my
country, the latter to my profession. The conversation with the
latter is always upon religion, and it would be strange indeed,
if with the armour of truth on the right hand and on the left, I
were not able to combat with success the upholders of such a
system of absurdity and sin. As the Persians are a far more
unprejudiced and inquisitive people than the Indians, and do not
stand quite so much in awe of an Englishman as the timid natives
of Hindustan, I hope they will learn something from me; the hope
of this reconciles me to the necessity imposed on me of staying
here; about the translation I dare not be sanguine. The
prevailing opinion concerning me is, that I have repaired to
Shiraz in order to become a Mussulman. Others, more sagacious,
say that I shall bring from India some more, under pretence of
making them Mussulmans, but in reality to seize the place. They
do not seem to have thought of my wish to have them converted to
my religion; they have been so long accustomed to remain without
proselytes to their own. I shall probably have very little to
write about for some months to come, and therefore I reserve the
extracts of my _Journal_ since I last wrote to you for some
other opportunity; besides that, the ambassador, with whose
despatches this will go, is just leaving Shiraz.

_July 2._--The Mohammedans now come in such numbers to visit me,
that I am obliged, for the sake of my translation-work, to
decline seeing them. To-day one of the apostate sons of Israel
was brought by a party of them, to prove the Divine mission of
Mohammed from the Hebrew Scriptures, but with all his sophistry
he proved nothing. I can almost say with St. Paul, I feel
continual pity in my heart for them, and love them for their
fathers' sake, and find a pleasure in praying for them. While
speaking of the return of the Jews to Jerusalem, I observed that
the 'Gospel of the kingdom must first be preached in all the
world, and then shall the end come.' He replied with a sneer,
'And this event, I suppose you mean to say, is beginning to take
place by your bringing the Gospel to Persia.'

_July 5._--I am so incessantly occupied with visitors and my
work, that I have hardly a moment for myself. I have more and
more reason to rejoice at my being sent here; there is such an
extraordinary stir about religion throughout the city, that some
good must come of it. I sometimes sigh for a little Christian
communion, yet even from these Mohammedans I hear remarks that
do me good. To-day, for instance, my assistant observed, 'How He
loved those twelve persons!' 'Yes,' said I, 'and not those
twelve only, but all those who shall believe in Him, as He said,
"I pray not for them alone, but for all them who shall believe
on me through their word."' Even the enemy is constrained to
wonder at the love of Christ. Shall not the object of it say,
What manner of love is this? I have learned that I may get
letters from England much sooner than by way of India. Be so
good as to direct to me, to the care of Sir Gore Ouseley, Bart.,
Ambassador at Teheran, care of J. Morier, Esq., Constantinople,
care of G. Moon, Esq., Malta. I have seen Europe newspapers of
only four months' date, so that I am delightfully near you. May
we live near one another in the unity of the Spirit, having one
Lord, one hope, one God and Father. In your prayers for me pray
that utterance may be given me that I may open my mouth boldly,
to make known the mysteries of the Gospel. I often envy my
Persian hearers the freedom and eloquence with which they speak
to me. Were I but possessed of their powers, I sometimes think
that I should win them all; but the work is God's, and the faith
of His people does not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the
power of God. Remember me as usual with the most unfeigned
affection to all my dear friends. This is now the seventh letter
I send you without having received an answer. Farewell!

Yours ever most affectionately,

H. MARTYN.

Shiraz: September 8, 1811.

A courier on his way to the capital affords me the unexpected
pleasure of addressing my most beloved friend. It is now six
months since I left India, and in all that time I have not heard
from thence. The dear friends there, happy in each other's
society, do not enough call to mind my forlorn condition. Here I
am still, beset by cavilling infidels, and making very little
progress in my translation, and half disposed to give it up and
come away. My kind host, to relieve the tedium of being always
within a walled town, pitched a tent for me in a garden a little
distance, and there I lived amidst clusters of grapes, by the
side of a clear stream; but nothing compensates for the loss of
the excellent of the earth. It is my business, however, as you
will say, and ought to be my effort, to make saints, where I
cannot find them. I do use the means in a certain way, but
frigid reasoning with men of perverse minds seldom brings men to
Christ. However, as they require it, I reason, and accordingly
challenged them to prove the Divine mission of their prophet.
In consequence of this, a learned Arabic treatise was written by
one who was considered as the most able man, and put into my
hands; copies of it were also given to the college and the
learned. The writer of it said that if I could give a
satisfactory answer to it he would become a Christian, and at
all events would make my reply as public as I pleased. I did
answer it, and after some faint efforts on his part to defend
himself, he acknowledged the force of my arguments, but was
afraid to let them be generally known. He then began to inquire
about the Gospel, but was not satisfied with my statement. He
required me to prove from the very beginning the Divine mission
of Moses, as well as of Christ; the truth of the Scriptures,
etc. With very little hope that any good will come of it, I am
now employed in drawing out the evidences of the truth; but oh!
that I could converse and reason, and plead with power from on
high. How powerless are the best-directed arguments till the
Holy Ghost renders them effectual.

A few days ago I was just on the eve of my departure for
Ispahan, as I thought, and my translator had consented to
accompany me as far as Baghdad, but just as we were setting out,
news came that the Persians and Turks were fighting thereabouts,
and that the road was in consequence impassable. I do not know
what the Lord's purpose may be in keeping me here, but I trust
it will be for the furtherance of the Gospel of Christ, and in
that belief I abide contentedly.

My last letter to you was dated July. I desired you to direct to
me at Teheran. As it is uncertain whether I shall pass anywhere
near there, you had better direct to the care of S. Morier,
Esq., Constantinople, and I can easily get your letters from
thence.

I am happy to say that I am quite well, indeed, never better; no
returns of pain in the chest since I left India. May I soon
receive the welcome news that you also are well, and prospering
even as your soul prospers. I read your letters incessantly, and
try to find out something new, as I generally do, but I begin to
look with pain at the distant date of the last. I cannot tell
what to think, but I cast all my care upon Him who hath already
done wonders for me, and am sure that, come what will, it shall
be good, it shall be best. How sweet the privilege that we may
lie as little children before Him! I find that my wisdom is
folly and my care useless, so that I try to live on from day to
day, happy in His love and care. May that God who hath loved us,
and given us everlasting consolation and good hope through
grace, bless, love, and keep my ever-dearest friend; and
dwelling in the secret place of the Most High, and abiding under
the shadow of the Almighty, may she enjoy that sweet
tranquillity which the world cannot disturb. Dearest Lydia! pray
for me, and believe me to be ever most faithfully and
affectionately yours,

H. MARTYN.

Shiraz: October 21, 1811.

It is, I think, about a month since I wrote to you, and so
little has occurred since that I find scarcely anything in my
_Journal_, and nothing worth transcribing. This state of
inactivity is becoming very irksome to me. I cannot get these
Persians to work, and while they are idle I am sitting here to
no purpose. Sabat's laziness used to provoke me excessively, but
Persians I find are as torpid as Arabs when their salary does
not depend on their exertions, and both very inferior to the
feeble Indian, whom they affect to despise. My translator comes
about sunrise, corrects a little, and is off, and I see no more
of him for the day. Meanwhile I sit fretting, or should do so,
as I did at first, were it not for a blessed employment which so
beguiles the tediousness of the day that I hardly perceive it
passing. It is the study of the Psalms in the Hebrew. I have
long had it in contemplation, in the assurance, from the number
of flat and obscure passages that occur in the translations,
that the original has not been hitherto perfectly understood. I
am delighted to find that many of the most unmeaning verses in
the version turn out, on close examination, to contain a direct
reference to the Lord our Saviour. The testimony of Jesus is
indeed the spirit of prophecy. He is never lost sight of. Let
them touch what subject they will, they must always let fall
something about Him. Such should we be, looking always to Him. I
have often attempted the 84th Psalm, endeared to me on many
accounts as you know, but have not yet succeeded. The glorious
16th Psalm I hope I have mastered. I write with the ardour of a
student communicating his discoveries and describing his
difficulties to a fellow student.

I think of you incessantly, too much, I fear, sometimes; yet the
recollection of you is generally attended with an exercise of
resignation to His will. In prayer I often feel what you
described five years ago as having felt--a particular pleasure
in viewing you as with me before the Lord, and entreating our
common Father to bless both His children. When I sit and muse my
spirit flies away to you, and attends you at Gurlyn, Penzance,
Plymouth Dock, and sometimes with your brother in London. If you
acknowledge a kindred feeling still, we are not separated; our
spirits have met and blended. I still continue without
intelligence from India; since last January I have heard nothing
of any one person whom I love. My consolation is that the Lord
has you all under His care, and is carrying on His work in the
world by your means, and that when I emerge I shall find that
some progress is made in India especially, the country I now
regard as my own. Persia is in many respects a ripe field for
the harvest. Vast numbers secretly hate and despise the
superstition imposed on them, and as many of them as have heard
the Gospel approve it, but they dare not hazard their lives for
the name of the Lord Jesus. I am sometimes asked whether the
external appearance of Mohammedanism might not be retained with
Christianity, and whether I could not baptize them without their
believing in the Divinity of Christ. I tell them, No.

Though I have complained above of the inactivity of my
translation, I have reason to bless the Lord that He thus
supplies Gibeonites for the help of His true Israel. They are
employed in a work of the importance of which they are
unconscious, and are making provision for future Persian saints,
whose time is, I suppose, now near. Roll back, ye crowded years,
your thick array! Let the long, long period of darkness and sin
at last give way to the brighter hours of light and liberty,
which wait on the wings of the Sun of Righteousness. Perhaps we
witness the dawn of the day of glory, and if not, the desire
that we feel, that Jesus may be glorified, and the nations
acknowledge His sway, is the earnest of the Spirit, that when He
shall appear we shall also appear with Him in glory. Kind love
to all the saints who are waiting His coming.

Yours, with true affection, my ever dearest Lydia,

H. MARTYN.

It is now determined that we leave Shiraz in a week, and as the
road through Persia is impassable through the commotions which
are always disturbing some part or other of this unhappy
country, I must go back to Bushire.

My scribe finished the New Testament; in correcting we are no
further than the 13th of Acts.

_October 24_ to _26_.--Resumed my Hebrew studies; on the two
first days translated the eight first Psalms into Persian, the
last all day long thinking about the word Higgaion in the 9th
Psalm.

_October 27_ to _29_.--Finished Psalm xii. Reading the 5th of
St. Matthew to Zachariah my servant. Felt awfully convinced of
guilt; how fearlessly do I give way to causeless anger,
speaking contemptuously of men, as if I had never read this
chapter. The Lord deliver me from all my wickedness, and write
His holy law upon my heart, that I may walk circumspectly before
Him all the remaining days of my life.

_November 1._--Everything was prepared for our journey to
Baghdad by the Persian Gulf, and a large party of Shiraz ladies,
chiefly of Mirza Seid Ali's family, had determined to accompany
us, partly from a wish to visit the tombs, and partly to have
the company of their relations a little longer. But a letter
arriving with the intelligence that Bagdhad was all in
confusion, our kafila separated, and I resolved to go on through
Persia to Armenia, and so to Syria. But the season was too far
advanced for me to think of traversing the regions of Caucasus
just then, so I made up my mind to winter at Shiraz.

FOOTNOTES:

[46] _The Three Brothers, or the Travels and Adventures of Sir Anthony, Sir Robert, and Sir Thomas Sherley in Persia, Russia, Turkey, Spain, &c._, London, 1825.

[47] _Travels in Georgia, Persia, Armenia, Ancient Babylonia, &c._, by Sir Robert Ker Porter, 2 vols., London, 1821.

[48] Mr. J.C. Marshman, C.S.I., who lived through the history of India, from Wellesley to Lord Lawrence, and personally knew almost all its distinguished men, writes in his invaluable History: 'The good sense of Sir Harford and Colonel Malcolm gradually smoothed down all asperities, and it was not long before they agreed to unite their efforts to battle the intrigues and the cupidity of the court. Colonel Malcolm was received with open arms by the king, who considered him the first of Englishmen. "What induced you," said he at the first interview, "to hasten away from Shiraz without seeing my son?" "How could I," replied the Colonel with his ever ready tact, "after having been warmed by the sunshine of your Majesty's favour, be satisfied with the mere reflection of that refulgence in the person of your son?" "Mashalla!" exclaimed the monarch, "Malcolm Sahib is himself again." ... Sir Gore Ouseley had acquired the confidence of Lord Wellesley by the great talents he exhibited when in a private station at the court of Lucknow, and upon his recommendation was appointed to Teheran as the representative of the King of England.' The two embassies cost the East India Company 380,000_l._

[49] Sir C.U. Aitchison's _Collection of Treaties, Engagements, and Sunnuds relating to India and Neighbouring Countries_, 2nd edition, vol. vi. Calcutta, 1876.

[50] _A Tour to Sheeraz by the route of Karroon and Feerozabad_, London, 1807.

[51] In two splendid volumes, printed by native hands under the sanction of the Government at Calcutta, in 1891, Lieutenant-Colonel H. Wilberforce Clarke published an English prose translation of _The Divan, written in the Fourteenth Century_, by Khwaja Shamshu-d-Din Muhammad-i-Hafiz. The work is described in the _Quarterly Review_ of January 1892, by a writer who thus begins: 'About two miles north-west of Shiraz, in the garden called Mosella which is, being interpreted, "the place of prayer," lies, beneath the shadow of cypress-trees, one of which he is said to have planted with his own hand, Shems-Edden Mohammed, surnamed Hafiz, or "the steadfast in Scripture," poet, recluse, and mystic.... No other Persian has equalled him in fame--not Sadi, whose monument, now in ruins, may be visited near his own; nor Firdusi, nor Jami. Near the garden tomb is laid open the book of well nigh seven hundred poems which he wrote. According to Sir Gore Ouseley, who turned over its pages in 1811, it is a volume abounding in bright and delicate colour, with illuminated miniatures, and the lovely tints of the Persian caligraphy.'

[52] _Persia and the Persian Question_, 2 vols. (Longmans), 1892.

[53] _Travels_, vol. i. pp. 687-8.