PERSIA AND THE TABREEZ CARAVAN TRAIL.
A SHORT trundle to the summit of a sloping pass, and then a winding
descent of several miles brings me to a position commanding a view of
an extensive valley that looks from this distance as lovely as a dreamy
vision of Paradise. An hour later and I am bowling along beneath overhanging
peach and mulberry trees, following a volunteer horseman to Mohammed Ali
Khan's garden. Before reaching the garden a gang of bare-legged laborers
engaged in patching up a mud wall favor me with a fusillade of stones,
one of which caresses me on the ankle, and makes me limp like a Greenwich
pensioner when I dismount a minute or two afterward. This is their
peculiar way of complimenting a lone Ferenghi. Mohammed Ali Khan is found
to be rather a moon-faced individual under thirty, who, together with
his subordinate officials, are occupying tents in a large garden. Here,
during the summer, they dispense justice to applicants for the same
within their jurisdiction, and transact such other official business as
is brought before them. In Persi, the distribution of justice consists
chiefly in the officials ruthlessly looting the applicants of everything
lootable, and the weightiest task of the officials is intriguing together
against the pocket of the luckless wight who ventures upon seeking equity
at their hands. A sorrowful-visaged husbandman is evidently experiencing
the easy simplicity of Persian civil justice as I enter the garden; he
wears the mournful expression of a man conscious of being irretrievably
doomed, while the festive Kahn and his equally festive moonshi bashi
(chief secretary) are laying their wicked heads together and whispering
mysteriously, fifty paces away from everybody, ever and anon looking
suspiciously around as though fearful of the presence of eavesdroppers.
After duly binning, a young man called Abdullah, who seems to be at the
beck and call of everybody, brings forth the samovar, and we drink the
customary tea of good fellowship, after which they examine such of my
modest effects as take their fancy. The moonshi bashi, as becomes a man
of education, is quite infatuated with my pocket map of Persia; the fact
that Persia occupies so great a space on the map in comparison with the
small portions of adjoining countries visible around the edges makes a
powerful appeal to his national vanity, and he regards me with increased
affection every time I trace out for him the comprehensive boundary line
of his native Iran. After nightfall we repair to the principal tent, and
Mohammed Ali Khan and his secretary consume the evening hours in the
joyous occupation of alternately smoking the kalian (Persian water-pipe,
not unlike the Turkish nargileh, except that it has a straight stem
instead of a coiled tube), and swallowing glasses of raw arrack every
few minutes; they furthermore amuse themselves by trying to induce me
to follow their noble example, and in poking fun at another young man
because his conscientious scruples regarding the Mohammedan injunction
against intoxicants forbids him indulging with them. About eight o'clock
the Khan becomes a trifle sentimental and very patriotic. Producing a
pair of silver-mounted horse-pistols from a corner of the tent, and
waving them theatrically about, he proclaims aloud his mighty devotion
to the Shah. At nine o'clock Abdullah brings in the supper. The Khan's
vertebra has become too limp and willowy to enable him to sit upright,
and he has become too indifferent to such coarse, un-spiritual things
as stewed chicken and musk-melons to care about eating any, while the
moonshi bashi's affection for me on account of the map has become so
overwhelming that he deliberately empties all the chicken on to my sheet
of bread, leaving none whatever for himself and the phenomenal young
person with the conscientious scruples.
When bedtime arrives it requires the united exertions of Abdullah and
the phenomenal young man to partially undress Mohammed Ali Khan and drag
him to his couch on the floor, the Kahn being limp as a dish-rag and a
moderately bulky person. The moonshi bashi, as becomes an individual of
lesser rank and superior mental attainments, is not quite so helpless
as his official superior, but on retiring he humorously reposes his feet
on the pillow and his head on nothing but the bare floor of the tent,
and stubbornly refuses to permit Abdullah to alter either his pillow or
his position. The phenomenal young man and myself likewise seek our
respective pile of quilts, Abdullah removes the lamp, draws a curtain
over the entrance of the tent, and retires.
The Persians, as representing the Shiite division of the Mohammedan
religion, consider themselves by long odds the holiest people on the
earth, far holier than the Turks, whom they religiously despise as
Sunnites and unworthy to loose the latchets of their shoes. The Koran
strictly enjoins upon them great moderation in the use of intoxicating
drinks, yet certain of the Persian nobility are given to drinking this
raw intoxicant by the quart daily. When asked why they don't use it in
moderation, they reply, " What is the good of drinking arrack unless one
drinks enough to become drunk and happy. " Following this brilliant idea,
many of them get " drank and happy " regularly every evening. They
likewise frequently consume as much as a pint before each meal to create
a false appetite and make themselves feel boozy while eating. In the
morning the moonshi bashi, with a soldier for escort, accompanies me on
horseback to Khoi, which is but about seven miles distant over a perfectly
level road. Sad to say, the moonshi bashi, besides his yearning affection
for fiery, untamed arrack, is a confirmed opium smoker, and after last
night's debauch for supper and "hitting the pipe " this morning for
breakfast, he doesn't feel very dashing in the saddle; consequently I
have to accommodate myself to his pace. It is the slowest seven miles
ever ridden on the road by a wheelman, I think; a funeral procession is
a lively, rattling affair, beside our onward progress toward the mud
battlements of Khoi, but there is no help for it. Whenever I venture to
the fore a little the dreamy-eyed moonshi bashi regards me with a gaze
of mild reproachfulness, and sings out in a gently-chide-the-erring tone
of voice: "Kardash. Kardash." meaning " f we are brothers, why do you
seem to want to leave me." Human nature could scarcely be proof against
an appeal wherein endearment and reproach are so beautifully and
harmoniously blended, and it always brings me back to a level with his
horse. Reaching the suburbs of Khoi, I am initiated into a new departure - new
to myself at this time - of Persian sanctimoniousness. Halting at a fountain
to obtain a drink, the soldier shapes himself for pouring the water out
of the earthenware drinking vessel into my hands; supposing this to be
merely an indication of the Persian's own method of drinking, I motion
my preference for drinking out of the jar itself. The soldier looks
appealingly toward the moonshi bashi, who tells him to let me drink, and
then orders him to smash the jar. It then dawns upon my unenlightened
mind, that being a Ferenghi, I should have known better than to have
touched my unhallowed lips to a drinking vessel at a public fountain,
defiling it by so doing, so that it must be smashed in order that the
sons of the "true prophet" may not unwittingly drink from it afterward
and themselves become defiled. The moonshi bashi pilots me to the residence
of a certain wealthy citizen outside the city walls; this person, a mild-
mannered, purring-voiced man, is seated in a room with a couple of
seyuds, or descendants of the prophet; they are helping themselves from
a large platter of the finest, pears, peaches, and egg plums I ever saw
anywhere. The room is carpeted with costly rugs and carpets in which
one's feet sink perceptibly at every step; the walls and ceiling are
artistically stuccoed, and the doors and windows are gay with stained
glass. Abandoning myself to the guidance of the moonshi bashi, I ride
around the garden-walks, show them the bicycle, revolver, map of Persia,
etc.; like the moonshi bashi, they become deeply interested in the map,
finding much amusement and satisfaction in having me point out the
location of different Persian cities, seemingly regarding my ability to
do so as evidence of exceeding cleverness and erudition. The untravelled
Persians of the northern provinces regard Teheran as the grand idea of
a large and important city; if there is any place in the whole world
larger and more important, they think it may perhaps be Stamboul. The
fact that Stamboul is not on my map while Teheran is, they regard as
conclusive proof of the superiority of their own capital. The moonshi
bashi's chief purpose in accompanying me hither has been to introduce
me to the attention of the "hoikim"; although the pronunciation is a
little different from hakim, I attribute this to local brogue, and have
been surmising this personage to be some doctor, who, perhaps, having
graduated at a Frangistan medical college, the moonshi bashi thinks will
be able to converse with me. After partaking of fruit and tea we continue
on our way to the nearest gate-way of the city proper, Khoi being
surrounded by a ditch and battlemented mud wall. Arriving at a large,
public inclosure, my guide sends in a letter, and shortly afterward
delivers me over to some soldiers, who forthwith conduct me into the
presence of - not a doctor, but Ali Khan, the Governor of the city, an
officer who hereabouts rejoices in the title of the "hoikim." The
Governor proves to be a man of superior intelligence; he has been Persian
ambassador to France some time ago, and understands French fairly well;
consequently we manage to understand each other after a fashion. Although
he has never before seen a bicycle, his knowledge of the mechanical
ingenuity of the Ferenghis causes him to regard it with more intelligence
than an un-travelled native, and to better comprehend my journey and its
object. Assisted by a dozen mollahs (priests) and officials in flowing
gowns and henna-tinted beards and finger-nails, the Governor is transacting
official business, and he invites me to come into the council chamber
and be seated. In a few minutes the noon-tide meal is announced; the
Governor invites me to dine with them, and then leads the way into the
dining-room, followed by his counsellors, who form in line behind him
according to their rank. The dining-room is a large, airy apartment,
opening into an extensive garden; a bountiful repast is spread on yellow-
checkered tablecloths on the carpeted floor; the Governor squats cross-
legged at one end, the stately-looking wiseacres in flowing gowns range
themselves along each side in a similar attitude, with much solemnity
and show of dignity; they - at least so I fancy - evidently are anything but
rejoiced at the prospect of eating with an infidel Ferenghi. The Governor,
being a far more enlightened and consequently less bigoted personage,
looks about him a trifle embarrassed, as if searching for some place
where he can seat me in a position of becoming honor without offending
the prejudices of his sanctimonious counsellors. Noticing this, I at
once come to his relief by taking the position farthest from him,
attempting to imitate them in their cross-legged attitude. My unhappy
attempt to sit in this uncomfortable attitude - uncomfortable at least to
anybody unaccustomed to it - provokes a smile from His Excellency, and he
straightway orders an attendant to fetch in a chair and a small table;
the counsellors look on in silence, but they are evidently too deeply
impressed with their own dignity and holiness to commit themselves to
any such display of levity as a smile. A portion of each dish is placed
upon my table, together with a travellers' combination knife, fork and
spoon, a relic, doubtless, of the Governor's Parisian experience. His
Excellency having waited and kept the counsellors waiting until these
preparations are finished, motions for me to commence eating, and then
begins himself. The repast consists of boiled mutton, rice pillau with
curry, mutton chops, hard-boiled eggs with lettuce, a pastry of sweetened
rice-flour, musk-melons, water-melons, several kinds of fruit, and for
beverage glasses of iced sherbet; of all the company I alone use knife,
fork, and plates. Before each Persian is laid a broad sheet of bread;
bending their heads over this they scoop up small handfuls of pillau,
and toss it dextrously into their mouths; scattering particles missing
the expectantly opened receptacle fall back on to the bread; this handy
sheet of bread is used as a plate for placing a chop or anything else
on, as a table-napkin for wiping finger-tips between courses, and now
and then a piece is pulled off and eaten. When the meal is finished, an
attendant waits on each guest with a brazen bowl, an ewer of water and
a towel. After the meal is over the Governor is no longer handicapped
by the religious prejudices of the mollahs, and leaving them he invites
me into the garden to see his two little boys go through their gymnastic
exercises. They are clever little fellows of about seven and nine,
respectively, with large black eyes and clear olive complexions; all
the time we are watching them the Governor's face is wreathed in a fond,
parental smile. The exercises consist chiefly in climbing a thick rope
dangling from a cross-beam. After seeing me ride the bicycle the Governor
wants me to try my hand at gymnastics, but being nothing of a gymnast I
respectfully beg to be excused. While thus enjoying a pleasant hour in
the garden, a series of resounding thwacks are heard somewhere near by,
and looking around some intervening shrubs I observe a couple of far-rashes
bastinadoing a culprit; seeing me more interested in this novel method
of administering justice than in looking at the youngsters trying to
climb ropes, the Governor leads the way thither. The man, evidently a
ryot, is lying on his back, his feet are lashed together and held soles
uppermost by means of an horizontal pole, while the farrashes briskly
belabor them with willow sticks. The soles of the ryot's feet are hard
and thick as rhinoceros hide almost from habitually walking barefooted,
and under these conditions his punishment is evidently anything but
severe. The flagellation goes merrily and uninterruptedly forward until
fifty sticks about five feet long and thicker than a person's thumb are
broken over his feet without eliciting any signals of distress from the
horny-hoofed ryot, except an occasional sorrowful groan of "A-l-l-ah."
He is then loosed and limps painfully away, but it looks like a rather
hypocritical limp, after all; fifty sticks, by the by, is a comparatively
light punishment, several hundred sometimes being broken at a single
punishment. Upon taking my leave the Governor kindly details a couple
of soldiers to show me to the best caravanserai, and to remain and protect
me from the worry and annoyance of the crowds until my departure from
the city. Arriving at the caravanserai, my valiant protectors undertake
to keep the following crowd from entering the courtyard; the crowd refuses
to see the justice of this arbitrary proceeding, and a regular pitched
battle ensues in the gateway. The caravanserai-jees reinforce the soldiers,
and by laying on vigorously with thick sticks, they finally put the
rabble to flight. They then close the caravanserai gates until the
excitement has subsided. Khoi is a city of perhaps fifty thousand
inhabitants, and among them all there is no one able to speak a word of
English. Contemplating the surging mass of woolly-hatted Persians from
the bala-khana (balcony; our word is taken from the Persian), of the
caravanserai, and hearing nothing but unintelligible language, I detect
myself unconsciously recalling the lines: " Oh it was pitiful; in a whole
city full--." It is the first large city I have visited without finding
somebody capable of speaking at least a few words of my own language.
Locking the bicycle up, I repair to the bazaar, my watchful and zealous
attendants making the dust fly from the shoulders of such unlucky wights
whose eager inquisitiveness to obtain a good close look brings them
within the reach of their handy staves. We are followed by immense crowds,
a Ferenghi being a rara avis in Khoi, and the fame of the wonderful asp-
i (horse of iron) has spread like wild-fire through the city. In the
bazaar I obtain Russian silver money, which is the chief currency of the
country as far east as Zendjan. Partly to escape from the worrying crowds,
and partly to ascertain the way out next morning, as I intend making an
early start, I get the soldiers to take me outside the city wall and
show me the Tabreez road.
A new caravanserai is in process of construction just outside the Tabreez
gate, and I become an interested spectator of the Persian mode of building
the walls of a house; these of the new caravanserai are nearly four feet
thick. Parallel walls of mud bricks are built up, leaving an interspace
of two feet or thereabouts; this is filled with stiff, well-worked mud,
which is dumped in by bucketsful and continually tramped by barefooted
laborers; harder bricks are used for the doorways and windows. The
bricklayer uses mud for mortar and his hands for a trowel; he works
without either level or plumb-line, and keeps up a doleful, melancholy
chant from morning to night. The mortar is handed to him by an assistant
by handsful; every workman is smeared and spattered with mud from head
to foot, as though glorying in covering themselves with the trade-mark
of their calling.
Strolling away from the busy builders we encounter a man the "water
boy of the gang"- bringing a three-gallon pitcher of water from a
spring half a mile away. Being thirsty, the soldiers shout for him to
bring the pitcher. Scarcely conceiving it possible that these humble
mud-daubers would be so wretchedly sanctimonious, I drink from the jar,
much to the disgust of the poor water-carrier, who forthwith empties
the remainder away and returns with hurried trot to the spring for a
fresh supply; he would doubtless have smashed the vessel had it been
smaller and of lesser value. Naturally I feel a trifle conscience-stricken
at having caused him so much trouble, for he is rather an elderly man,
but the soldiers display no sympathy for him whatever, apparently regarding
an humble water-carrier as a person of small consequence anyhow, and
they laugh heartily at seeing him trotting briskly back half a mile for
another load. Had he taken the first water after a Ferenghi had drank
from it and allowed his fellow-workmen to unwittingly partake of the
same, it would probably have fared badly with the old fellow had they
found it out afterward.
Returning cityward we meet our friend, the moonshi bashi, looking me up;
he is accompanied by a dozen better-class Persians, scattering friends
and acquaintances of his, whom he hag collected during the day chiefly
to show them my map of Persia; the mechanical beauty of the bicycle and
the apparent victory over the laws of equilibrium in riding it being,
in the opinion of the scholarly moonshi bashi, quite overshadowed by a
map which shows Teheran and Khoi, and doesn't show Stamboul, and which
shows the whole broad expanse of Persia, and only small portions of other
countries. This latter fact seems to have made a very deep impression
upon the moonshi banhi's mind; it appears to have filled him with the
unalterable conviction that all other countries are insignificant compared
with Persia; in his own mind this patriotic person has always believed
this to be the case, but he is overjoyed at finding his belief verified -
as he fondly imagines - by the map of a Ferenghi. Returning to the
caravanserai, we find the courtyard crowded with people, attracted by
the fame of the bicycle. The moonshi bashi straightway ascends to the
bala-khana, tenderly unfolds my map, and displays it for the inspection
of the gaping multitude below; while five hundred pairs of eyes gaze
wonderingly upon it, without having the slightest conception of what
they are looking at, he proudly traces with his finger the outlines of
Persia. It is one of the most amusing scenes imaginable; the moonshi
bashi and myself, surrounded by his little company of friends, occupying
the bala-khana, proudly displaying to a mixed crowd of fully five hundred
people a shilling map as a thing to be wondered at and admired.
After the departure of the moonshi bashi and his friends, by invitation
I pay a visit of curiosity to a company of dervishes (they themselves
pronounce it "darwish") occupying one of the caravanserai rooms. There
are eight of them lolling about in one small room; their appearance is
disgusting and yet interesting; they are all but naked in deference to
the hot weather and to obtain a little relief from the lively tenants
of their clothing. Prominent among their effects are panther or leopard
skins which they use as cloaks, small steel battle-axes, and huge spiked
clubs. Their whole appearance is most striking and extraordinary; their
long black hair is dangling about their naked shoulders; they have the
wild, haggard countenances of men whose lives are being spent in debauchery
and excesses; nevertheless, most of them have a decidedly intellectual
expression. The Persian dervishes are a strange and interesting people;
they spend their whole lives in wandering from one end of the country
to another, subsisting entirely by mendicancy; yet their cry, instead
of a beggar's supplication for charity, is "huk, huk" (my right, my
right); they affect the most wildly, picturesque and eccentric costumes,
often wearing nothing whatever but white cotton drawers and a leopard
or panther skin thrown, carelessly about their shoulders, besides which
they carry a huge spiked club or steel battle-axe and an alms-receiver;
this latter is usually made of an oval gourd, polished and suspended
on small brass chains. Sometimes they wear an embroidered conical cap
decorated with verses from the Koran, but often they wear no head-gear
save the covering provided by nature. The better-class Persians have
little respect for these wandering fakirs; but their wild, eccentric
appearance makes a deep impression upon the simple-hearted villagers,
and the dervishes, whose wits are sharpened by constant knocking about,
live mostly by imposing on their good nature and credulity. A couple of
these worthies, arriving at a small village, affect their wildest and
most grotesque appearance and proceed to walk with stately, majestic
tread through the streets, gracefully brandishing their clubs or battle-
axes, gazing fixedly at vacancy and reciting aloud from the Koran with
a peculiar and impressive intonation; they then walk about the village
holding out their alms-receiver and shouting "huk yah huk! huk yah huk "
Half afraid of incurring their displeasure, few of the villagers
refuse to contribute a copper or portable cooked provisions. Most dervishes
are addicted to the intemperate use of opium, bhang (a preparation of
Indian hemp), arrack, and other baleful intoxicants, generally indulging
to excess whenever they have collected sufficient money; they are likewise
credited with all manner of debauchery; it is this that accounts for
their pale, haggard appearance. The following quotation from "In the
Land of the Lion and Sun," and which is translated from the Persian, is
eloquently descriptive of the general appearance of the dervish: The
dervish had the dullard air, The maddened look, the vacant stare, That
bhang and contemplation give. He moved, but did not seem to live; His
gaze was savage, and yet sad; What we should call stark, staring mad.
All down his back, his tangled hair Flowed wild, unkempt; his head was
bare; A leopard's skin was o'er him flung; Around his neck huge beads
were hung, And in his hand-ah! there's the rub- He carried a portentous
club. After visiting the dervishes I spend an hour in an adjacent tchai-
khan drinking tea with my escort and treating them to sundry well-deserved
kalians. Among the rabble collected about the doorway is a half-witted
youngster of about ten or twelve summers with a suit of clothes consisting
of a waist string and a piece of rag about the size of an ordinary pen-
wiper. He is the unfortunate possessor of a stomach disproportionately
large and which intrudes itself upon other people's notice like a prize
pumpkin at an agricultural fair. This youth's chief occupation appears
to be feeding melon-rinds to a pet sheep belonging to the tchai-khan and
playing a resonant tattoo on his abnormally obtrusive paunch with the
palms of his hands. This produces a hollow, echoing sound like striking
an inflated bladder with a stuffed club; and considering that the youth
also introduces a novel and peculiar squint into the performance, it is
a remarkably edifying spectacle. Supper-time coming round, the soldiers
show the way to an eating place, where we sup off delicious bazaar-kabobs,
one of the most tasteful preparations of mutton one could well imagine.
The mutton is minced to the consistency of paste and properly seasoned;
it is then spread over flat iron skewers and grilled over a glowing
charcoal fire; when nicely browned they are laid on a broad pliable sheet
of bread in lieu of a plate, and the skewers withdrawn, leaving before
the customer a dozen long flat fingers of nicely browned kabobs reposing
side by side on the cake of wheaten bread-a most appetizing and digestible
dish. Returning to the caravanserai, I dismiss my faithful soldiers with
a suitable present, for which they loudly implore the blessings of Allah
on my head, and for the third or fourth time impress upon the caravanseraijes
the necessity of making my comfort for the night his special consideration.
They fill that humble individual's mind with grandiloquent ideas of my
personal importance by dwelling impressively on the circumstance of my
having eaten with the Governor, a fact they likewise have lost no
opportunity of heralding throughout the bazaar during the afternoon. The
caravanserai-jee spreads quilts and a pillow for me on the open bala-khana,
and I at once prepare for sleep. A gentle-eyed and youthful seyud wearing
an enormous white turban and a flowing gown glides up to my couch and
begins plying me with questions. The soldiers noticing this as they are
about leaving the court-yard favor him with a torrent of imprecations
for venturing to disturb my repose; a score of others yell fiercely at
him in emulation of the soldiers, causing the dreamy-eyed youth to hastily
scuttle away again. Nothing is now to be heard all around but the evening
prayers of the caravanserai guests; listening to the multitudinous cries
of Allah-il-Allah around me, I fall asleep. About midnight I happen to
wake again; everything is quiet, the stars are shining brightly down
into the court-yard, and a small grease lamp is flickering on the floor
near my head, placed there by the caravan-serai-jee after I had fallen
asleep. The past day has been one full of interesting experiences; from
the time of leaving the garden of Mohammed Ali Khan this morning in
company with the moonshi bashi, until lulled to sleep three hours ago
by the deep-voiced prayers of fanatical Mohammedans the day has proved
a series of surprises, and I seem more than ever before to have been the
sport and plaything of fortune; however, if the fickle goddess never
used anybody worse than she has used me to-day there would be little
cause for complaining.
As though to belie their general reputation of sanctimoniousness, a tall,
stately seyud voluntarily poses as my guide and protector en route through
the awakening bazaar toward the Tabreez gate next morning, cuffing
obtrusive youngsters right and left, and chiding grown-up people whenever
their inordinate curiosity appeals to him as being aggressive and impolite;
one can only account for this strange condescension on the part of this
holy man by attributing it to the marvellous civilizing and levelling
influence of the bicycle. Arriving outside the gate, the crowd of followers
are well repaid for their trouble by watching my progress for a couple
of miles down a broad straight roadway admirably kept and shaded with
thrifty chenars or plane-trees. Wheeling down this pleasant avenue I
encounter mule-trains, the animals festooned with strings of merrily
jingling bells, and camels gayly caparisoned, with huge, nodding tassels
on their heads and pack-saddles, and deep-toned bells of sheet iron
swinging at their throats and sides; likewise the omnipresent donkey
heavily laden with all manner of village produce for the Khoi market.
My road after leaving the avenue winds around the end of projecting
hills, and for a dozen miles traverses a gravelly plain that ascends
with a scarcely perceptible gradient to the summit of a ridge; it then
descends by a precipitous trail into the valley of Lake Ooroomiah.
Following along the northern shore of the lake I find fairly level roads,
but nothing approaching continuous wheeling, owing to wash-outs and small
streams leading from a range of mountains near by to the left, between
which and the briny waters of the lake my route leads. Lake Ooroomiah
is somewhere near the size of Salt Lake, Utah, and its waters are so
heavily impregnated with saline matter that one can lie down on the
surface and indulge in a quiet, comfortable snooze; at least, this is
what I am told by a missionary at Tabreez who says he has tried it
himself; and even allowing for the fact that missionaries are but human
after all and this gentleman hails originally from somewhere out West,
there is no reason for supposing the statement at all exaggerated. Had
I heard of this beforehand I should certainly have gone far enough out
of my course to try the experiment of being literally rocked on the
cradle of the deep. Near midday I make a short circuit to the north, to
investigate the edible possibilities of a village nestling in a cul-de-sac
of the mountain foot-hills. The resident Khan turns out to be a regular
jovial blade, sadly partial to the flowing bowl. When I arrive he is
perseveringly working himself up to the proper pitch of booziness for
enjoying his noontide repast by means of copious potations of arrack;
he introduces himself as Hassan Khan, offers me arrack, and cordially
invites me to dine with him. After dinner, when examining my revolver,
map, etc., the Khan greatly admires a photograph of myself as a peculiar
proof of Ferenghi skill in producing a person's physiognomy, and blandly
asks me to "make him one of himself," doubtless thinking that a person
capable of riding on a wheel is likewise possessed of miraculous all
'round abilities.
The Khan consumes not less than a pint of raw arrack during the dinner
hour, and, not unnaturally, finds himself at the end a trifle funny and
venturesome. When preparing to take my departure he proposes that I give
him a ride on the bicycle; nothing loath to humor him a little in return
for his hospitality, I assist him to mount, and wheel him around for a
few minutes, to the unconcealed delight of the whole population, who
gather about to see the astonishing spectacle of their Khan riding on
the Ferenghi's wonderful asp-i-awhan. The Khan being short and pudgy is
unable to reach the pedals, and the confidence-inspiring fumes of arrack
lead him to announce to the assembled villagers that if his legs were
only a little longer he could certainly go it alone, a statement that
evidently fills the simple-minded ryots with admiration for the Khan's
alleged newly-discovered abilities.
The road continues level but somewhat loose and sandy; the scenery around
becomes strikingly beautiful, calling up thoughts of "Arabian Nights "
entertainments, and the genii and troubadours of Persian song. The bright,
blue waters of Lake Ooroomiah stretch away southward to where the dim
outlines of mountains, a hundred miles away, mark the southern shore;
rocky islets at a lesser distance, and consequently more pronounced in
character and contour, rear their jagged and picturesque forms sheer
from the azure surface of the liquid mirror, the face of which is unruffled
by a single ripple and unspecked by a single animate or inanimate object;
the beach is thickly incrusted with salt, white and glistening in the
sunshine; the shore land is mingled sand and clay of a deep-red color,
thus presenting the striking and beautiful phenomena of a lake shore
painted red, white, and blue by the inimitable hand of nature. A range
of rugged gray mountains run parallel with the shore but a few miles
away; crystal streams come bubbling lake-ward over pebble-bedded channels
from sources high up the mountain slopes; villages, hidden amid groves
of spreading jujubes and graceful chenars, nestle here and there in the
rocky gateways of ravines; orchards and vineyards are scattered about
the plain. They are imprisoned within gloomy mud walls, but, like living
creatures struggling for their liberty, the fruit-laden branches extend
beyond their prison-walls, and the graceful tendrils of the vines find
their way through the sun-cracks and fissures of decay, and trail over
the top as though trying to cover with nature's charitable veil the
unsightly works of man; and all is arched over with the cloudless Persian
sky.
Beaming the roads of this picturesque region in search of victims is a
most persistent and pugnacious species of fly; rollicking as the blue-
bottle, and the veritable double of the green-head horsefly of the Western
prairies, he combines the dash and impetuosity of the one with the
ferocity and persistency of the other; but he is happily possessed of
one redeeming feature not possessed by either of the above-mentioned and
well-known insects of the Western world. When either of these settles
himself affectionately on the end of a person's nose, and the person,
smarting under the indignity, hits himself viciously on that helpless
and unoffending portion of his person, as a general thing it doesn't
hurt the fly, simply because the fly doesn't wait long enough to be hurt;
but the Lake Ooroomiah fly is a comparatively guileless insect, and
quietly remains where he alights until it suits one's convenience to
forcibly remove him; for this redeeming quality I bespeak for him the
warmest encomiums of fly-harassed humans everywhere. Dusk is settling
down over the broad expanse of lake, plain, and mountain when I encounter
a number of villagers taking donkey-loads of fruit and almonds from an
orchard to their village. They cordially invite me to accompany them and
accept their hospitality for the night. They are travelling toward a
large area of walled orchards but a short distance to the north, and I
naturally expect to find their village located among them; so, not knowing
how far ahead the next village may be, I gladly accept their kindly
invitation, and follow along behind. It gets dusky, then duskier, then
dark; the stars come peeping out thicker and thicker, and still I am
trundling with these people slowly along up the dry and stone-strewn
channel of spring-time freshets, expecting every minute to reach their
village, only to be as often disappointed, for over an hour, during which
we travel out of my proper course perhaps four miles. Finally, after
crossing several little streams, or rather; one stream several times,
we arrive at our destination, and I am installed, as the guest of a
leading villager, beneath a sort of open porch attached to the house.
Here, as usual, I quickly become the centre of attraction for a wondering
and admiring audience of half-naked villagers. The villager whose guest
I become brings forth bread and cheese, some bring me grapes, others
newly gathered almonds, and then they squat around in the dim religious
light of primitive grease-lamps and watch me feed, with the same wondering
interest and the same unconcealed delight with which youthful Londoners
at the Zoological Gardens regard a pet monkey devouring their offerings
of nuts and ginger-snaps. I scarcely know what to make of these particular
villagers; they seem strangely childlike and unsophisticated, and moreover,
perfectly delighted at my unexpected presence in their midst. It is
doubtful whether their unimportant little village among the foothills
was ever before visited by a Ferenghi; consequently I am to them a rara
avis to be petted and admired. I am inclined to think them a village of
Yezeeds or devilworshippers; the Yezeeds believe that Allah, being by
nature kind and merciful, would not injure anybody under any circumstances,
consequently there is nothing to be gained by worshipping him. Sheitan
(Satan), on the contrary, has both the power and the inclination to do
people harm, therefore they think it politic to cultivate his good-will
and to pursue a policy of conciliation toward him by worshipping him and
revering his name. Thus they treat the name of Satan with even greater
reverence than Christians and Mohammedans treat the name of God. Independent
of their hospitable treatment of myself, these villagers seem but little
advanced in their personal habits above mere animals; the women are half-
naked, and seem possessed of little more sense of shame than our original
ancestors before the fall. There is great talk of kardash among them in
reference to myself. They are advocating hospitality of a nature altogether
too profound for the consideration of a modest and discriminating Ferenghi -
hospitable intentions that I deem it advisable to dissipate at once by
affecting deep, dense ignorance of what they are discussing.
In the morning they search the village over to find the wherewithal to
prepare me some tea before my departure. Eight miles from the village I
discover that four miles forward yesterday evening, instead of backward,
would have brought me to a village containing a caravanserai. I naturally
feel a trifle chagrined at the mistake of having journeyed eight unnecessary
miles, but am, perhaps, amply repaid by learning something of the utter
simplicity of the villagers before their character becomes influenced
by intercourse with more enlightened people.
My course now leads over a stony plain. The wheeling is reasonably
good, and I gradually draw away from the shore of Lake Ooroomiah. Melon-
gardens and vineyards are frequently found here and there across the
plain; the only entrance to the garden is a hole about three feet by
four in the high mud wall, and this is closed by a wooden door; an arm-
hole is generally found in the wall to enable the owner to reach the
fastening from the outside. Investigating one of these fastenings at a
certain vineyard I discover a lock so primitive that it must have been
invented by prehistoric man. A flat, wooden bar or bolt is drawn into a
mortise-like receptacle of the wall, open at the top; the man then daubs
a handful of wet clay over it; in a few minutes the clay hardens and the
door is fast. This is not a burglar-proof lock, certainly, and is only
depended upon for a fastening during the temporary absence of the owner
in the day-time. During the summer the owner and family not infrequently
live in the garden altogether. During the forenoon the bicycle is the
innocent cause of two people being thrown from the backs of their
respective steeds. One is a man carelessly sitting sidewise on his donkey;
the meek-eyed jackass suddenly makes a pivot of his hind feet and wheels
round, and the rider's legs as suddenly shoot upward. He frantically
grips his fiery, untamed steed around the neck as he finds himself over-
balanced, and comes up with a broad grin and an irrepressible chuckle
of merriment over the unwonted spirit displayed by his meek and humble
charger, that probably had never scared at anything before in all its
life. The other case is unfortunately a lady whose horse literally springs
from beneath her, treating her to a clean tumble. The poor lady sings
out "Allah!" rather snappishly at finding herself on the ground, so
snappishly that it leaves little room for doubt of its being an imprecation;
but her rude, unsympathetic attendants laugh right merrily at seeing her
floundering about in the sand; fortunately, she is uninjured. Although
Turkish and Persian ladies ride a la Amazon, a position that is popularly
supposed to be several times more secure than side-saddles, it is a
noticeable fact that they seem perfectly helpless, and come to grief the
moment their steed shies at anything or commences capering about with
anything like violence.
On a portion of road that is unridable from sand I am captured by a
rowdyish company of donkey-drivers, returning with empty fruit-baskets
from Tabreez. They will not be convinced that the road is unsuitable,
and absolutely refuse to let me go without seeing the bicycle ridden.
After detaining me until patience on my part ceases to be a virtue, and
apparently as determined for their purpose as ever, I am finally compelled
to produce the convincing argument with five chambers and rifled barrel.
These crowds of donkey-men seem inclined to be rather lawless, and
scarcely a day passes lately but what this same eloquent argument has
to be advanced in the interest of individual liberty. Fortunately the
mere sight of a revolver in the hands of a Ferenghi has the magical
effect of transforming the roughest and most overbearing gang of ryots
into peaceful, retiring citizens. The plain I am now traversing is a
broad, gray-looking area surrounded by mountains, and stretching away
eastward from Lake Ooroomiah for seventy-five miles. It presents the
same peculiar aspect of Persian scenery nearly everywhere-a general
verdureless and unproductive country, with the barren surface here and
there relieved by small oases of cultivated fields and orchards. The
villages being built solely of mud, and consequently of the same color
as the general surface, are undistinguishable from a distance, unless
rendered conspicuous by trees. Laboring under a slightly mistaken
impression concerning the distance to Tabreez, I push ahead in the
expectation of reaching there to-night; the plain becomes more generally
cultivated; the caravan routes from different directions come to a focus
on broad trails leading into the largest city in Persia, and which is
the great centre of distribution for European goods arriving by caravan
to Trebizond. Coming to a large, scattering village, some time in the
afternoon, I trundle leisurely through the lanes inclosed between lofty
and unsightly mud walls thinking I have reached the suburbs of Tabreez;
finding my mistake upon emerging on the open plain again, I am yet again
deceived by another spreading village, and about six o'clock find myself
wheeling eastward across an uncultivated stretch of uncertain dimensions.
The broad caravan trail is worn by the traffic of centuries considerably
below the level of the general surface, and consists of a number of
narrow, parallel trails, along which swarms of donkeys laden with produce
from tributary villages daily plod, besides the mule and camel caravans
from a greater distance. These narrow beaten paths afford excellent
wheeling, and I bowl along quite briskly. As one approaches Tabreez, the
country is found traversed by an intricate network of irrigating ditches,
some of them works of considerable magnitude; the embankments on either
side of the road are frequently high enough to obscure a horseman. These
works are almost as old as the hills themselves, for the cultivation of
the Tabreez plain has remained practically an unchanged system for three
thousand years, as though, like the ancient laws of the Medes and Persians,
it also were made unchangeable.
About dusk I fall in with another riotous crowd of homeward-bound fruit
carriers, who, not satisfied at seeing me ride past, want to stop me;
one of them rushes up behind, grabs my package attached to the rear
baggage-carrier, and nearly causes an overthrow; frightening him off, I
spurt ahead, barely escaping two or three donkey cudgels hurled at me
in pure wantonness, born of the courage inspired by a majority of twenty
to one. There is no remedy for these unpleasant occurrences except
travelling under escort, and the avoiding serious trouble or accident
becomes a matter for every-day congratulation. At eighteen miles from
the last village it becomes too dark to remain in the saddle without
danger of headers, and a short trundle brings me, not to Tabreez even
now, but to another village eight miles nearer. Here there is a large
caravanserai. Near the entrance is a hole-in-the-wall sort of a shop
wherein I espy a man presiding over a tempting assortment of cantaloupes,
grapes, and pears. The whirligig of fortune has favored me today with
tea, blotting-paper ekmek, and grapes for breakfast; later on two small
watermelons, and at 2 P.M. blotting-paper
ekmek and an infinitesimal quantity of yaort (now called mast). It is
unnecessary to add that I arrive in this village with an appetite that
will countenance no unnecessary delay. Two splendid ripe cantaloupes,
several fine bunches of grapes, and some pears are devoured immediately,
with a reckless disregard of consequences, justifiable only on the grounds
of semi-starvation and a temporary barbarism born of surrounding
circumstances. After this savage attack on the maivah-jee's stock, I
learn that the village contains a small tchai-khan; repairing thither I
stretch myself on the divan for an hour's repose, and afterward partake
of tea, bread, and peaches. At bed-time the khan-jee makes me up a couch
on the divan, locks the door
inside, blows out the light, and then, afraid to occupy the same building
with such a dangerous-looking individual as myself, climbs to the roof
through a hole in the wall. Eager villagers carry both myself and wheel
across a bridge-less stream upon resuming my journey to Tabreez next
morning; the road is level and ridable, though a trifle deep with dust
and sand, and in an hour I am threading the suburban lanes of the city.
Along these eight miles I certainly pass not less than five hundred pack-
donkeys en route to the Tabreez market with everything, from baskets of
the choicest fruit in the world to huge bundles of prickly camel-thorn
and sacks of tezek for fuel. No animals in all the world, I should think,
stand in more urgent need of the kindly offices of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals than the thousands of miserable donkeys
engaged in supplying Tabreez with fuel; their brutal drivers seem utterly
callous and indifferent to the pitiful sufferings of these patient
toilers. Numbers of instances are observed this morning where the rough,
ill-fitting breech-straps and ropes have literally seesawed their way
through the skin and deep into the flesh, and are still rasping deeper
and deeper every day, no attempt whatever being made to remedy this evil;
on the contrary, their pitiless drivers urge them on by prodding the raw
sores with sharpened sticks, and by belaboring them unceasingly with an
instrument of torture in the shape of whips with six inches of ordinary
trace-chain for a lash. As if the noble army of Persian donkey drivers
were not satisfied with the refinement of physical cruelty to which they
have attained, they add insult to injury by talking constantly to their
donkeys while driving them along, and accusing them of all the crimes
in the calendar and of every kind of disreputable action. Fancy the
bitter sense of humiliation that must overcome the proud, haughty spirit
of a mouse-colored jackass at being prodded in an open wound with a sharp
stick and hearing himself at the same time thus insultingly addressed:
"Oh, thou son of a burnt father and murderer of thine own mother, would
that I myself had died rather than my father should have lived to see
me drive such a brute as thou art." yet this sort of talk is habitually
indulged in by the barbarous drivers. While young, the donkeys' nostrils
are slit open clear up to the bridge-bone; this is popularly supposed
among the Persians to be an improvement upon nature in that it gives
them greater freedom of respiration. Instead of the well known clucking
sound used among ourselves as a persuasive, the Persian makes a sound
not unlike the bleating of a sheep; a stranger, being within hearing and
out of sight of a gang of donkey drivers in a hurry to reach their
destination, would be more likely to imagine himself in the vicinity of
a flock of sheep than anything else. As is usually the case, a volunteer
guide bobs serenely up immediately I enter the city, and I follow
confidently along, thinking he is piloting me to the English consulate,
as I have requested; instead of this he steers me into the custom-house
and turns me over to the officials. These worthy gentlemen, after asking
me to ride around the custom-house yard, pretend to become altogether
mystified about what they ought to do with the bicycle, and in the absence
of any precedent to govern themselves by, finally conclude among themselves
that the proper thing would be to confiscate it. Obtaining a guide to
show me to the residence of Mr. Abbott, the English consul-general, that
energetic representative of Her Majesty's government smiles audibly at
the thoughts of their mystification, and then writes them a letter couched
in terms of humorous reproachfulness, asking them what in the name of
Allah and the Prophet they mean by confiscating a traveller's horse, his
carriage, his camel, his everything on legs and wheels consolidated into
the beautiful vehicle with which he is journeying to Teheran to see the
Shah, and all around the world to see everybody and everything? - ending
by telling them that he never in all his consular experiences heard of
a proceeding so utterly atrocious. He sends the letter by the consulate
dragoman, who accompanies me back to the custom-house. The officers at
once see and acknowledge their mistake; but meanwhile they have been
examining the bicycle, and some of them appear to have fallen violently
in love with it; they yield it up, but it is with apparent reluctance,
and one of the leading officials takes me into the stable, and showing
me several splendid horses begs me to take my choice from among them and
leave the bicycle behind.
Mr. and Mrs. Abbott cordially invite me to become their guest while
staying at Tabreez. To-day is Thursday, and although my original purpose
was only to remain here a couple of days, the innovation from roughing
it on the road, to roast duck for dinner, and breakfast in one's own
room of a morning, coupled with warnings against travelling on the Sabbath
and invitations to dinner from the American missionaries, proves a
sufficient inducement for me to conclude to stay till Monday, satisfied
at the prospect of reaching Teheran in good season. It is now something
less than four hundred miles to Teheran, with the assurance of better
roads than I have yet had in Persia, for the greater portion of the
distance; besides this, the route is now a regular post route with chapar-
khanas (post-houses) at distances of four to five farsakhs apart. On
Friday night Tabreez experienced two slight shocks of an earthquake, and
in the morning Mr. Abbott points out several fissures in the masonry of
the consulate, caused by previous visitations of the same undesirable
nature; the earthquakes here seem to resemble the earthquakes of California
in that they come reasonably mild and often. The place likewise awakens
memories of the Golden State in another and more appreciative particular
nowhere, save perhaps in California, does one find such delicious
grapes, peaches, and pears as at ancient Taurus, a specialty for which
it has been justly celebrated from time immemorial. On Saturday I take
dinner with Mr. Oldfather, one of the missionaries, and in the evening
we all pay a visit to Mr. Whipple and family, the consulate link-boy
lighting the way before us with a huge cylindrical lantern of transparent
oiled muslin called a farnooze. These lanterns are always carried after
night before people of wealth or social consequence, varying in size
according to the person's idea of their own social importance. The size
of the farmooze is supposed to be an index of the social position of the
person or family, so that one can judge something of what sort of people
are coming down the street, even on the darkest night, whenever the
attendant link-boy heaves in sight with the farnooze. Some of these
social indicators are the size of a Portland cement barrel, even in
Persia; it is rather a smile-provoking thought to think what tremendous
farnoozes would be seen lighting up the streets on gloomy evenings, were
this same custom prevalent among ourselves; few of us but what could
call to memory people whose farnoozes would be little smaller than brewery
mash-tubs, and which would have to be carried between six-foot link-boys
on a pole. Ameer-i-Nazan, the Valiat or heir apparent to the throne, and
at present nominal governor of Tabreez, has seen a tricycle in Teheran,
one having been imported some time ago by an English gentleman in the
Shah's service; but the fame of the bicycle excites his curiosity and
he sends an officer around to the consulate to examine and report upon
the difference between bicycle and tricycle, and also to discover and
explain the modus operandi of maintaining one's balance on two wheels.
The officer returns with the report that my machine won't even stand up,
without somebody holding it, and that nobody but a Ferenghi who is in
league with Sheitan, could possibly hope to ride it. Perhaps it is this
alarming report, and the fear of exciting the prejudices of the mollahs
and fanatics about him, by having anything to do with a person reported
on trustworthy authority to be in league with His Satanic Majesty, that
prevents the Prince from requesting me to ride before him in Tabreez;
but I have the pleasure of meeting him at Hadji Agha on the evening of
the first day out. Mr. Whippie kindly makes out an itinerary of the
villages and chapar-khanas I shall pass on the journey to Teheran; the
superintendent of the Tabreez station of the Indo-European Telegraph
Company voluntarily telegraphs to the agents at Miana and Zendjan when
to expect rne, and also to Teheran; Mrs. Abbott fills my coat pockets
with roast chicken, and thus equipped and prepared, at nine o'clock on
Monday morning I am ready for the home-stretch of the season, before
going into winter quarters.
The Turkish consul-general, a corpulent gentleman whose avoirdupois I
mentally jot down at four hundred pounds, comes around with several
others to see me take a farewell spin on the bricked pavements of the
consulate garden. Like all persons of four hundred pounds weight, the
Effendi is a good-natured, jocose individual, and causes no end of
merriment by pretending to be anxious to take a spin on the bicycle
himself, whereas it requires no inconsiderable exertion on his part to
waddle from his own residence hard by into the consulate. Three soldiers
are detailed from the consulate staff to escort me through the city; en
route through the streets the pressure of the rabble forces one unlucky
individual into one of the dangerous narrow holes that abound in the
streets, up to his neck; the crowd yell with delight at seeing him tumble
in, and nobody stops to render him any assistance or to ascertain whether
he is seriously hurt. Soon a poor old ryot on a donkey, happens amid
the confusion to cross immediately in front of the bicycle; whack! whack!
whack! come the ready staves of the zealous and vigilant soldiers across
the shoulders of the offender; the crowd howls with renewed delight at
this, and several hilarious hobble-de-hoys endeavor to shove one of their
companions in the place vacated by the belabored ryot, in the hope that
he likewise will come in for the visitation of the soldiers' o'er- willing
staves. The broad suburban road, where the people have been fondly
expecting to see the bicycle light out in earnest for Teheran at a
marvellous rate of speed, is found to be nothing less than a bed of loose
sand and stones, churned up by the narrow hoofs of multitudinous donkeys.
Quite a number of better class Persians accompany me some distance further
on horseback; when taking their departure, a gentleman on a splendid
Arab charger, shakes hands and says: "Good-by, my dear," which apparently
is all the English he knows. He has evidently kept his eyes and ears
open when happening about the English consulate, and the happy thought
striking him at the moment, he repeats, parrot-like, this term of
endearment, all unsuspicious of the ridiculousness of its application
in the present case.
For several miles the road winds tortuously over a range of low, stony
hills, the surface being generally loose and unridable. The water-supply
of Tabreez is conducted from these hills by an ancient system of kanaats
or underground water-ditches; occasionally one comes to a sloping cavern
leading down to the water; on descending to the depth of from twenty to
forty feet, a small, rapidly-coursing stream of delicious cold water is
found, well rewarding the thirsty traveller for his trouble; sometimes
these cavernous openings are simply sloping, bricked archways, provided
with steps. The course of these subterranean water-ways can always be
traced their entire length by uniform mounds of earth, piled up at short
intervals on the surface; each mound represents the excavations from a
perpendicular shaft, at the bottom of which the crystal water can be
seen coursing along toward the city; they are merely man-holes for the
purpose of readily cleaning out the channel of the kanaat. The water is
conducted underground, chiefly to avoid the waste by evaporation and
absorption in surface ditches. These kanaats are very extensive affairs
in many places; the long rows of surface mounds are visible, stretching
for mile after mile across the plain as far as eye can penetrate, or
until losing themselves among the foot-hills of some distant mountain
chain; they were excavated in the palmy days of the Persian Empire to
bring pure mountain streams to the city fountains and to irrigate the
thirsty plain; it is in the interest of self-preservation that the
Persians now keep them from falling into decay. At noon, while seated
on a grassy knoll discussing the before-mentioned contents of my pockets,
I am favored with a free exhibition of what a physical misunderstanding
is like among the Persian ryots. Two companies of katir-jees happen to
get into an altercation about something, and from words it gradually
develops into blows; not blows of the fist, for they know nothing of
fisticuffs, but they belabor each other vigorously with their long, thick
donkey persuaders, sticks that are anything but small and willowy; it
is an amusing spectacle, and seated on the commanding knoll nibbling
"drum-sticks" and wish-bones, I can almost fancy myself a Roman of old,
eating peanuts and watching a gladiatorial contest in the amphitheatre.
The similitude, however, is not at all striking, for thick as are their
quarter-staffs the Persian ryots don't punish each other very severely.
Whenever one of them works himself up to a fighting-pitch, he commences
belaboring one of the others on the back, apparently always striking so
that the blow produces a maximum of noise with a minimum of punishment;
the person thus attacked never ventures to strike back, but retreats
under the blows until his assailant's rage becomes spent and he desists.
Meanwhile the war of words goes merrily forward; perchance in a few
minutes the person recently attacked suddenly becomes possessed of a
certain amount of rage-inspired courage, and he in turn commences a
vigorous assault upon somebody, probably his late assailant; this worthy,
having become a little cooler, has mysteriously lost his late pugnacity,
and now likewise retreats without once attempting to raise his own stick
in self-defence. The lower and commercial class Persians are pretty
quarrelsome among themselves, but they quarrel chiefly with their tongues;
when they fight without sticks it is an ear-pulling, clothes-tugging,
wrestling sort of a scuffle, which continues without greater injury than
a torn garment until they become exhausted if pretty evenly matched, or
until separated by bystanders; they never, never hurt each other unless
they are intoxicated, when they sometimes use their short swords; there
is no intoxication, except in private drinking-parties.