narch laughed heartily at this jest, and gave the wit a
present. This anecdote, to which many similar might be added, shows that
there is little difference between the office of jester at the modern court
of Persia, and that which some centuries ago existed at every court in
Europe. A resemblance even in trifling forms merits attention, as it may
lead to conclusions on the progress of knowledge and the condition of
society; and from the character of their amusements, we may perhaps judge
as correctly as from their more serious occupations, of the degree of
civilization which a people has attained. In the court there is always a
person who bears the name of "story-teller to his majesty;" and the duties
of his office require a man of no mean acquirements. Though passionately
fond of public exhibitions, the Persians have none that deserve the name of
theatrical entertainments; but though strangers to the regular drama, their
stories are often dramatic; and those whose occupation is to tell them,
sometimes display so extraordinary a skill, and such varied powers, that we
can hardly believe, while we look on their altered countenances and listen
to their changed tones, that it is the same person, who at one moment tells
a plain narrative in his natural voice, then speaks in the hoarse and angry
tone of offended authority, and next subdues the passions he has excited by
the softest sounds of feminine tenderness. The art of relating stories is
attended both with profit and reputation. Great numbers attempt it, but few
succeed.

The person whose office it is to amuse his majesty with these stories is
always in attendance. It is equally his duty to beguile the fatigue of a
long march, and to soothe the mind when disturbed by the toils of public
affairs; and his tales are artfully made to suit the disposition and
momentary humour of the monarch. Sometimes he recites a story of the genii;
at others he speaks of the warlike deeds of former sovereigns, or of the
love of some wandering prince. Often the story is of coarser materials, and
the king is entertained with low and obscene adventures. In no court is
more rigid attention paid to ceremony. Looks, words, the motions of the
body, are all regulated by the strictest forms. When the king is seated in
public, his sons, ministers, and courtiers, stand erect, with their hands
crossed, and in the exact place belonging to their rank. They watch his
looks, and a glance is a command. If he