DOI issue:
July 13, 1889
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17688#0022
16
‘ NIGHTS TWA Wl’ THE SHAH.”
(By Our Own Special Plenipotentiary.)
Sra,—How right you were to send for me on this occasion. So was
Augustus Dbubiolanus. No one knows better than yourself, Sir,
and Dbubiolanus Opebaticus, how valuable
my services are on such occasions. For
years a resident in Persia, speaking the
language fluently, and writing it to perfec-
tion, up in all their customs and habits, the
trusted friend and adviser of Nasb-ed-Deen,
— “ Ed Deen ’ ’ is his ecclesiastical title,—•
Manager of the Imperial Fallalah (Sun
Music Hall) in Teheran, and Director of
Fallalalheen (singers),—who, I ask, could
have been more fitted for the task than the
humble individual who undertakes to write
for you the Diary of Dabius, and become,
without fulsome flattery, his Mede of Praise.
But to begin with Monday night.
Ah, Sir, the work of a Persian Special is a hard one! All night
was I up with Augustus Dbubiolanus teaching him how to receive
the Shah. Most difficult. Dbubiolanus is a man who likes to
advance with the times, and in this case he had to learn to walk
backwards in a Court suit, and to avoid getting his sword between his
legs while holding a couple of electric-lighted candelabra, the battery
being concealed in the tail pockets and connected by wires threaded
into the seams and passing down the sleeves into the ruffles. There
were only three of us. Myself teaching as M.C., and the Privatest Sec.
of Dbubiolanus (famed as the Defender of the Faithless “’Abet
B. Pasha”), who on this occasion took the part of Shah, just as he had
stood up for the aforesaid, “ ’Abby B.” The Persian Court reception
step is difficult to learn all at once; it consists of three paces back to
the right, two to the left, hop, jump, turn over twice (this bothered
Dbubiolanus, and he wanted to substitute Little Laubi, hut I
wouldn’t agree to it), and come down in the same place, or as near it
as possible, and so. on down the passage until the Imperial box is
reached. To do this without dropping the candelabra requires more
than a couple of hours practice, as I know to my cost. But before
4 a.m. Dbubiolanus had mastered it completely.
“ What a pity these are not the days of Pebsiani ! ” I exclaimed.
“How appropriate it would have been! ” Immediately afterwards
I was sorry I had spoken, as the remark seemed to cast a gloom
over Dbubiolanus. “The programme can’t be altered now,” he
sighed reflectively, “ unless Melba, or Mabie Roze, would take the
name of Pebsiani for this occasion only ! ”
The Shah's Visit.—You Sir, Mr. Punch, with your brilliant staff,
and Toby with a dog-rose in his button-hole, were of course the
first to receive and welcome the Royal and Imperial party. Dbubio-
lanus executed the reception step perfectly, only making one slight
slip where some stupid idiot of a carpenter had omitted a nail in the
stair-carpet. There’s a stair-rod in pickle for him. However,
it caused only a delay of a second, as with a marvellous effort of
agility Dbubiolanus caught himself tripping (for the first time
in his life) and turned a midsummersault lightly and gracefully
backwards (a development and an improvement, I am hound to
admit, on what I had taught him) and alighted with a Persian bend,
and the candelabra in his hands, on the first landing, which is in
future to he called historically, “ The Landing of the Shah.” After
this all was easy.
The Shah’s little hoy was there, and I presented him with a cake,
and a box of sweetmeats, on which was inscribed an adaptation from
Hobace ; “ Persicos amo! Pat! Puer apparatus!" which, as a neat
hit of scholarship,—“puer apparatus" being of course, applied to
this little chap,—takes the cake, as he did, by the hye, and ate it too.
“A. gorgeous spectacle, Mashab,” 1 observed ‘to him. I have
the privilege of addressing him familiarly as “ Mashab.”
li Not so gorgeous,” he replied, sotto voce, “As my spectacles,”
and, to emphasise the joke, he removed his gold-rimmed specs, and
wiped them carefully. I thought he was going to present them to
me as a souvenir, but he didn’t. I didn’t smile. In Persia, when a
joke is made, you must keep your countenance, or lose your head.
Well, it was all a great success. On quitting the theatre the Shah
summoned Tin Khan, the Treasurer, and presented tip-poo-tip (Per-
sian for “ gifts of money”) to the attendants. I saw nis Imperial
Majesty home at a late hour to Buckingham Palace. He had lost his
latch-key, and it’s an awkward place to be locked out of, as there ’s
no getting within three hundred yards of the front-door bell on
account of the railings and the sentinels. But my experience came
to Mashab’s aid, and. going round in the direction of the stables-
But I must not be indiscreet. I saw II.I.M. up-stairs, where, at
the entrance of his dressing-room, he was received by Or Yatah
Khan and Khold Yatah Khan, his chamberlains. After saying,
cheerily, “Bon soir, Mashab ! ” (he understands French), I left him
to Lullah Bi Bi Boo, whose office it is to sing the Shah to sleep
[July 13, 1889.
every night. And as I went down the stairs this refrain reached me,
arranged for two voices :—
“ Have you seen the Shah ? I If you ’ve seen
Tra la la la la! I Mashab-ed-Deen,
You have seen Mash-Shah.”
The Daily . Telegraph Special said that the Shah took a pencil
from the Special Artist
of the Illustrated Lon-
don News, and drew
that Artist’s likeness.
“Aha!” quoth Dbu-
biolanus, looking at
the magnificent and
crowded house, “ The
Shah can ‘ draw.’ ”
Thursday Night. At
the Empire.— Splendid
entertainment given
by Sir Albebt Sassoon
to the Shah, the Prince
and Princess of Wales
and such a marvellous
assemblage of rank,
fashion, wealth, and
beauty as has never
before been gathered Lullah Bi Bi Boo.
together within the “ 0 Mon Shah Charmant! ”
walls of a theatre at
the invitation of a single private person. On this night the
Empire was indeed a Theatre of Yarieties. The Diamonds were
dazzling! the flowers a beautiful sight, Cybil Floweb, M.P.,
included. I was there of course,—all there. “ How are you?—all
right?” says the Shah to me. “Quite, thanks,” I replied, with
the respectful familiarity of an old friend. “ You ’ll have a big night
of it here, Mashab.” He chuckled, and wiped his glasses. Then
upstairs he went. The Shah was enchanted with those birds of the
night, the Acro-hats, and positively smiled when Cleopatra came on in
her ballet-galley. Poor little “ Apparatus Puer" became so very
sleepy that Dhost Mank hoi and Lullah Bi BiBoo had to take him
back to Buckingham Palace. As we were allowed to circulate all
over the house, when the heat became oppressive and our throats dry,
I took my old friends Nubae Bhib Khan (the Persian Inspector of
Imperial Pints), and Guzzlab Ali Khan to various buffets where
we drank Pommeby’s Sherbet tres sec ’80. This is sherbet I can
confidently recommend to all good Mussulmen. At the generous and
hospitable invitation of our iiberal host, I was enabled to entertain
a few foreign friends at a small table in the corner—and I did enter-
tain them too, as we hadn’t met for sixteen years, when most of
my best-known stories which have since become “ chesnuts ” were
new. But I’ve added to the stock, and they’ve forgotten the old
ones. Among the honoured guests at my table were His Excel-
lency Amin ah Muezib (the Imperial Boot and Shoe Persia-Polish
Inspector), Laiikzah Mibza Khan, who is always in a state of
chronic astonishment; Nodza Nizam Khan, still a gay dog with
his “glasses round” on all the pretty women; Mudlah Ali Khan,
Minister of Public Instruction ; Ahmad Khan, a very eccentric hut
privileged individual; Hezin Sultan, the only at all bad-mannered
chap of the lot; and, indeed, if it hadn’t been for the presence of
Abul Chookhah Owtah, Chief of the Persian Police, a man of fine
physique, Hezin Sultan would have had a row with Sedig-us-
Inbibz, the Court Jester, who is no respecter of Persians.
Then there was Tatab Kiian, the Imperial Yegetarian; Adul
Khan, good fellow, but never sees a joke, though he laughs occa-
sionally ; his half-brother, Adullah Khan, who is still more obtuse,
and never laughs at all, except by Imperial command, on such grand
festivals as Horse-Collar days ; and Tweezah Khan, the Chief Court
Dentist, with his old favourite, Bak Molah Akau Khan, whom he
always takes out on every possible occasion.
A merry night! “ Ta Ta, mi bul-bul,” said the Shah, as we
parted at Buckingham Palace gates, which to-night had been left
open. “ Ta Ta, Mashab,” I replied, in excellent Persian (pro-
nounced as spelt), as I drove off. And so ended the second of the
memorable “ Nichts wi’ the Shah.”
The (Stan) hope of the Family.—One of the golden medals given
to good artists by the Awarders in the Paris Exhibiton, fell to the
lot of the youthful Stanhope Fobbes, who, it is now generally
known is wedded to his Art, a relationship, not within the for-
bidden degrees of consanguinity. We drink to the happy pair.
Stan’ up Fobbes, and respond for ’“the health of the bride.”
Touching Cebemony.—The Shah at Paddington. Most affecting
to see the Great Eastern visiting the Great Western. Even Lord
Randolph Chubchill, M.P., wept.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
‘ NIGHTS TWA Wl’ THE SHAH.”
(By Our Own Special Plenipotentiary.)
Sra,—How right you were to send for me on this occasion. So was
Augustus Dbubiolanus. No one knows better than yourself, Sir,
and Dbubiolanus Opebaticus, how valuable
my services are on such occasions. For
years a resident in Persia, speaking the
language fluently, and writing it to perfec-
tion, up in all their customs and habits, the
trusted friend and adviser of Nasb-ed-Deen,
— “ Ed Deen ’ ’ is his ecclesiastical title,—•
Manager of the Imperial Fallalah (Sun
Music Hall) in Teheran, and Director of
Fallalalheen (singers),—who, I ask, could
have been more fitted for the task than the
humble individual who undertakes to write
for you the Diary of Dabius, and become,
without fulsome flattery, his Mede of Praise.
But to begin with Monday night.
Ah, Sir, the work of a Persian Special is a hard one! All night
was I up with Augustus Dbubiolanus teaching him how to receive
the Shah. Most difficult. Dbubiolanus is a man who likes to
advance with the times, and in this case he had to learn to walk
backwards in a Court suit, and to avoid getting his sword between his
legs while holding a couple of electric-lighted candelabra, the battery
being concealed in the tail pockets and connected by wires threaded
into the seams and passing down the sleeves into the ruffles. There
were only three of us. Myself teaching as M.C., and the Privatest Sec.
of Dbubiolanus (famed as the Defender of the Faithless “’Abet
B. Pasha”), who on this occasion took the part of Shah, just as he had
stood up for the aforesaid, “ ’Abby B.” The Persian Court reception
step is difficult to learn all at once; it consists of three paces back to
the right, two to the left, hop, jump, turn over twice (this bothered
Dbubiolanus, and he wanted to substitute Little Laubi, hut I
wouldn’t agree to it), and come down in the same place, or as near it
as possible, and so. on down the passage until the Imperial box is
reached. To do this without dropping the candelabra requires more
than a couple of hours practice, as I know to my cost. But before
4 a.m. Dbubiolanus had mastered it completely.
“ What a pity these are not the days of Pebsiani ! ” I exclaimed.
“How appropriate it would have been! ” Immediately afterwards
I was sorry I had spoken, as the remark seemed to cast a gloom
over Dbubiolanus. “The programme can’t be altered now,” he
sighed reflectively, “ unless Melba, or Mabie Roze, would take the
name of Pebsiani for this occasion only ! ”
The Shah's Visit.—You Sir, Mr. Punch, with your brilliant staff,
and Toby with a dog-rose in his button-hole, were of course the
first to receive and welcome the Royal and Imperial party. Dbubio-
lanus executed the reception step perfectly, only making one slight
slip where some stupid idiot of a carpenter had omitted a nail in the
stair-carpet. There’s a stair-rod in pickle for him. However,
it caused only a delay of a second, as with a marvellous effort of
agility Dbubiolanus caught himself tripping (for the first time
in his life) and turned a midsummersault lightly and gracefully
backwards (a development and an improvement, I am hound to
admit, on what I had taught him) and alighted with a Persian bend,
and the candelabra in his hands, on the first landing, which is in
future to he called historically, “ The Landing of the Shah.” After
this all was easy.
The Shah’s little hoy was there, and I presented him with a cake,
and a box of sweetmeats, on which was inscribed an adaptation from
Hobace ; “ Persicos amo! Pat! Puer apparatus!" which, as a neat
hit of scholarship,—“puer apparatus" being of course, applied to
this little chap,—takes the cake, as he did, by the hye, and ate it too.
“A. gorgeous spectacle, Mashab,” 1 observed ‘to him. I have
the privilege of addressing him familiarly as “ Mashab.”
li Not so gorgeous,” he replied, sotto voce, “As my spectacles,”
and, to emphasise the joke, he removed his gold-rimmed specs, and
wiped them carefully. I thought he was going to present them to
me as a souvenir, but he didn’t. I didn’t smile. In Persia, when a
joke is made, you must keep your countenance, or lose your head.
Well, it was all a great success. On quitting the theatre the Shah
summoned Tin Khan, the Treasurer, and presented tip-poo-tip (Per-
sian for “ gifts of money”) to the attendants. I saw nis Imperial
Majesty home at a late hour to Buckingham Palace. He had lost his
latch-key, and it’s an awkward place to be locked out of, as there ’s
no getting within three hundred yards of the front-door bell on
account of the railings and the sentinels. But my experience came
to Mashab’s aid, and. going round in the direction of the stables-
But I must not be indiscreet. I saw II.I.M. up-stairs, where, at
the entrance of his dressing-room, he was received by Or Yatah
Khan and Khold Yatah Khan, his chamberlains. After saying,
cheerily, “Bon soir, Mashab ! ” (he understands French), I left him
to Lullah Bi Bi Boo, whose office it is to sing the Shah to sleep
[July 13, 1889.
every night. And as I went down the stairs this refrain reached me,
arranged for two voices :—
“ Have you seen the Shah ? I If you ’ve seen
Tra la la la la! I Mashab-ed-Deen,
You have seen Mash-Shah.”
The Daily . Telegraph Special said that the Shah took a pencil
from the Special Artist
of the Illustrated Lon-
don News, and drew
that Artist’s likeness.
“Aha!” quoth Dbu-
biolanus, looking at
the magnificent and
crowded house, “ The
Shah can ‘ draw.’ ”
Thursday Night. At
the Empire.— Splendid
entertainment given
by Sir Albebt Sassoon
to the Shah, the Prince
and Princess of Wales
and such a marvellous
assemblage of rank,
fashion, wealth, and
beauty as has never
before been gathered Lullah Bi Bi Boo.
together within the “ 0 Mon Shah Charmant! ”
walls of a theatre at
the invitation of a single private person. On this night the
Empire was indeed a Theatre of Yarieties. The Diamonds were
dazzling! the flowers a beautiful sight, Cybil Floweb, M.P.,
included. I was there of course,—all there. “ How are you?—all
right?” says the Shah to me. “Quite, thanks,” I replied, with
the respectful familiarity of an old friend. “ You ’ll have a big night
of it here, Mashab.” He chuckled, and wiped his glasses. Then
upstairs he went. The Shah was enchanted with those birds of the
night, the Acro-hats, and positively smiled when Cleopatra came on in
her ballet-galley. Poor little “ Apparatus Puer" became so very
sleepy that Dhost Mank hoi and Lullah Bi BiBoo had to take him
back to Buckingham Palace. As we were allowed to circulate all
over the house, when the heat became oppressive and our throats dry,
I took my old friends Nubae Bhib Khan (the Persian Inspector of
Imperial Pints), and Guzzlab Ali Khan to various buffets where
we drank Pommeby’s Sherbet tres sec ’80. This is sherbet I can
confidently recommend to all good Mussulmen. At the generous and
hospitable invitation of our iiberal host, I was enabled to entertain
a few foreign friends at a small table in the corner—and I did enter-
tain them too, as we hadn’t met for sixteen years, when most of
my best-known stories which have since become “ chesnuts ” were
new. But I’ve added to the stock, and they’ve forgotten the old
ones. Among the honoured guests at my table were His Excel-
lency Amin ah Muezib (the Imperial Boot and Shoe Persia-Polish
Inspector), Laiikzah Mibza Khan, who is always in a state of
chronic astonishment; Nodza Nizam Khan, still a gay dog with
his “glasses round” on all the pretty women; Mudlah Ali Khan,
Minister of Public Instruction ; Ahmad Khan, a very eccentric hut
privileged individual; Hezin Sultan, the only at all bad-mannered
chap of the lot; and, indeed, if it hadn’t been for the presence of
Abul Chookhah Owtah, Chief of the Persian Police, a man of fine
physique, Hezin Sultan would have had a row with Sedig-us-
Inbibz, the Court Jester, who is no respecter of Persians.
Then there was Tatab Kiian, the Imperial Yegetarian; Adul
Khan, good fellow, but never sees a joke, though he laughs occa-
sionally ; his half-brother, Adullah Khan, who is still more obtuse,
and never laughs at all, except by Imperial command, on such grand
festivals as Horse-Collar days ; and Tweezah Khan, the Chief Court
Dentist, with his old favourite, Bak Molah Akau Khan, whom he
always takes out on every possible occasion.
A merry night! “ Ta Ta, mi bul-bul,” said the Shah, as we
parted at Buckingham Palace gates, which to-night had been left
open. “ Ta Ta, Mashab,” I replied, in excellent Persian (pro-
nounced as spelt), as I drove off. And so ended the second of the
memorable “ Nichts wi’ the Shah.”
The (Stan) hope of the Family.—One of the golden medals given
to good artists by the Awarders in the Paris Exhibiton, fell to the
lot of the youthful Stanhope Fobbes, who, it is now generally
known is wedded to his Art, a relationship, not within the for-
bidden degrees of consanguinity. We drink to the happy pair.
Stan’ up Fobbes, and respond for ’“the health of the bride.”
Touching Cebemony.—The Shah at Paddington. Most affecting
to see the Great Eastern visiting the Great Western. Even Lord
Randolph Chubchill, M.P., wept.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.