repulsive to the European to see the master of the house pulling to
pieces, with his fingers, a boiled chicken, and giving each guest a
piece of it, or having a cup of sherbet passed round, in which a dozen
men have already steeped their henna-dyed moustaches.
Persian refinement is confined only to gestures, speech and
conversational manner. But in these they excel all the Eastern
nations--perhaps the nations of the West, too--and these elegant manners
are, of course, to be found in their highest perfection at the capital.
Volumes could be filled with the strict laws laid down for visits and
return visits, and the proprieties of correspondence and conversation.
Each Persian wishes to surpass the other in expressions of politeness
and delicacy, which seem the more absurd the more we happen to know of
the private lives of the Persians.
At every turn in the street the eye meets shocking contrasts of
splendour and misery. At one end of the street may be seen a swarm of
half-naked dervishes and beggars loitering about, whilst a Khan on
horseback, followed by a numerous retinue, appears at the other end.
Forty to sixty servants, armed with long staves, are ranged on each side
of the Khan, who, on his richly caparisoned horse, looks very pompous
indeed, and keeps his head continually wagging with an air of great
importance. You might suppose their lord to be at least a high officer
of state, judging by the noisy conduct and impudent behaviour of his
followers towards every one they met. Far from it! Often he is but a
poor Khan, weighted down with debts, who has been in the capital
ante-chambering and begging for some office for months past. His very
men are not paid by him; they are a set of starvelings who follow him
in the hope of his obtaining some office, and meanwhile try to add to
the splendour of his appearance in public. Nothing but deception and
delusion!
The Persians exhibit in the presence of their sovereign the most abject
humility; but I have often heard expressions, and witnessed acts of
disrespect towards him as soon as they were out of his sight. As an
instance of their cringing manner may be cited the reply given by a
courtier who was asked by the Shah to draw nearer to him. "Sire," he
answered, covering up his eyes with his hand, "spare me, I dare not
approach nearer to thy person; the glory of thy magnificent splendour
dazzles my eyes." They do not, on the other hand, pay the slightest
attention to their sovereign's commands, requests or threats, and the
more distant the place or province is from the capital the more surely
are commands and threats ignored. The courtiers highest in his
confidence, the servants and officers standing nearest to his person,
those whom his generosity has enriched, are the very men to spread the
vilest rumours about him. These slanders find their way amongst the
people; poets compose lampoons about them, and these are declaimed in
all the alleys and byways of the kingdom. For a week or two life at the
Embassy was pleasant, but soon "Up to Shiraz" was my only thought, and
in a few days I joined a caravan to start for that city.
XI.
THE SALT DESERT OF DESHTI-KUVIR.
I left Teheran on the 2nd of September, 1862, by the gate of _Shah
Abdul-Azim_, dressed in the costume of a Sunnite dervish from Bagdad, my
_entari_ (nether garment), reaching down to my heels, a red girdle round
my waist, a striped black _mashlak_ (a waterproof coat) on my back, and
on my head a neat _keffie_,[2] both useful and ornamental. As it was
usual to close the gates of Teheran after sunset, our little caravan had
fixed upon a caravansary outside the town for our place of meeting. The
travellers composing the caravan, became, for the most part, first
acquainted with each other there. The caravan consisted of about thirty
laden mules, a couple of horsemen, mollahs, pilgrims returning from
Meshed, merchants, mechanics and my insignificant self. It was two hours
after midnight when we started, and proceeded along the wide path
leading to Shah Abdul-Azim, a place which is held in high esteem by the
Teheran people as a resort for pilgrims. I walked there frequently
during my stay in Teheran. The place is full of life and noise during
the day, especially in the afternoon hours. There can be seen at all
times a troop of gaudily dressed women of the better classes, sitting on
horseback man fashion, prominent mirzahs and khans with numerous
followers, and now and then a European coach, used generally by the
court only. Of course at the time of night that we passed through it a
dead silence was brooding over it. The moon shed an almost day-like
light upon the mountain range stretching to the left and upon the gilded
cupola beneath which the earthly remains of Shah Abdul-Azim reposed.
After we had been riding in silence for two hours, some of the members
of our caravan began to thaw into a social mood, and interrupted the
monotony of our march by conversation and lively sallies.
[Footnote 2: An Arab headgear, consisting of a large
handkerchief of silk with yellow stripes.]
I selected for my companion a young Seid from Bagdad, who was about to
make a starring tour, as a _rawzekhan_ (singer of sacred songs), through
Southern Persia. Properly speaking only such persons are called
rawzekhans who sing Tazies, _i.e._, elegies in honour of Hussein, of
great renown in Persia. These men are the most fanatic Shi-ites, and it
may cause some surprise that we became more intimately acquainted. But
the Seid, as an inhabitant of Bagdad, and a subject of the Sublime
Porte, was willing enough to cultivate the acquaintance of an Effendi.
He introduced me to the other members of the caravan, and being a jovial
fellow, who would easily pass from his funeral songs to a livelier and
more worldly tune, he very soon became a favourite with the whole
company, and I, too, indirectly, profited by his popularity.
I at first scrupulously avoided all religious discussions, as I wished
to ingratiate myself with my fellow-travellers, although it was by no
means easy to do so; the Persians being very fond of arguing, and
willingly entering into a discussion with Christians, Ghebers, and
especially with Sunnites. The night was a magnificent one, and in Persia
these moonlit nights are simply entrancing. The clear, transparent air,
the graceful outline of the mountains, the darkling ruins, the
spectre-like shadows of the advancing caravan, and, above all, the
wonders of the starry vault above us, do not fail to produce an
unutterable impression upon the imagination of a traveller coming from
the far West to the East. Our road, however, was the worst imaginable;
we had to make our way over fragments and boulders of rock, and cross
ditches, ravines and the beds of rivers run dry. The difficulties of the
road affected me but little; I abandoned myself entirely to the safe
gait of my trusty asinine quadruped, and watched with intense interest
every movement of the Seid, who contemplated the star-covered sky, and
had some story to tell about each star. Every star had a legend of its
own, an influence good or baneful, and I listened to his wonderful
accounts with a soul full of faith. The constellation of the Great Bear
was already inclining towards the margin of the western sky when we
reached the height of _Karizek_, upon whose downward slopes
_Kenaregird_, the village which was to be our first station, was lying.
I cast one more glance at the beautiful moonlit landscape before
descending, and as we went down on the other side of the mountain, the
soft light of the moon slowly paled at the approach of the dawning day.
As soon as the morning star appears to the eye it is the custom, for the
whole caravan, to hail the coming day. The most zealous person in the
company engages in the recital of the Ezan, a task which quite naturally
fell this time to the lot of our Seid. The ablutions are performed in
the twilight of the dawn of morning, and before the first rays of the
sun touch the crest of the mountains, the caravan stops and morning
prayers are engaged in.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN PERSIA.]
The animals stand quietly with their heads bent low, whilst the men,
with their faces turned towards the East, are kneeling, in a line, side
by side, with such a penitent and remorseful expression on their
countenances, as may be witnessed only with Mohammedans. When the rays
of the sun reach the devout faithful, they lift up their voices and
chant the melodious prayer beginning with the words Allah Ekber (_i.e._,
God is the greatest).
After sunrise it is customary for the caravan to march on for a longer
or shorter space of time, according as it happens to start earlier or
later the night before, or as the next station is nearer or farther off.
When we turned into our station the rays of the sun shot down
mercilessly on our heads. We put up at the spacious caravansary, near
the village of Kenaregird. The meaning of its name is, "Border of Sand,"
for to the east of it extends the salt desert of _Deshti-Kuvir_. This
desert must be an awful place, for during all my wanderings through
Persia I never met with a native who had travelled over that portion of
it lying between Kenaregird and _Tebbes_. A Persian talking about the
desert of Deshti-Kuvir is always ready to frighten his listeners with a
batch of tales of horror, in each of which devils and evil spirits
conspicuously figure. The favourite legend which is most often repeated
is the story of _Shamr_, Hussein's murderer and the mortal enemy of
every Shi-ite Persian, to whom the desolation of this region is
attributed. Flying from his own remorse, he took refuge here, and the
once flourishing country suddenly became a sterile desert. The salt
lakes and the bottomless morasses are caused by the drops of sweat
rolling down his body in the agony of his sufferings. The most dreadful
place of all is _Kebir Kuh_, where Shamr is dwelling to this day. Woe to
the poor traveller who allows himself to be lured to this region by the
deceptive light of the ignis fatuus! Such and similar stories I was
regaled with by my fellow-travellers in connection with the salt desert
of Persia. As soon as we arrived at the caravansary every one of us
hastened to seek a shelter in the shade, and we were all of us soon
comfortably settled. In a few instants the city of travellers presented
the appearance of a lively and stirring settlement. Whilst the animals
were crunching their dry barley straw, the Persians looked to the
preparation of their meals. Those who were better off got their servants
to rub their backs and shoulders and to pull their limbs until they
cracked, this somewhat singular pastime being evidently intended to
restore elasticity to the body. After a short rest we breakfasted, and
then immediately retired to rest again. The caravan recuperates from the
fatigues of the journey during the heat of the day, and continues its
way at the dusk of evening. The animals follow the example of their
masters. Towards evening men and cattle are on their feet again, and
whilst the animals are being scrubbed and attended to, the men prepare
their _pilar_ (a dish composed of meat and rice). The supper is eaten
about an hour before starting. The dervish fares better than any one
else, for no sooner does the caravan arrive than he, without a care,
seeks his rest, and when the savoury steam of the kettle announces the
approach of the evening meal, he seizes his _keshkul_ (a vessel made of
the shell of the cocoa-nut), and goes the rounds of the various groups,
shouting out sultily, "Ya hu, Ya hakk!" He gets a few slices from every
one, mixes the heterogeneous contributions, and swallows it all with a
good appetite. "He carries with him nothing," say the people of the
East; "he does not cook, yet he eats; his kitchen is provided by God."
We had to cross the desert in its entire length to get to our next
station. The silence of the night becomes, in this wilderness, doubly
oppressive, and as far as the eye of the traveller can reach he will
find no spot to repose it upon. Only here and there may be seen piled up
columns of sand, driven about by the wind, and gliding from place to
place like so many dark spectres. I did not wonder that these shifting
shadows were taken by timid and credulous souls for evil spirits pursued
by furies. My companion seemed to belong to the superstitious class, for
wrapping his cloak tightly round him, he kept close to the densest part
of the caravan, and would not, for the world, so much as glance at the
wilderness stretching to the east.
It was about midnight when we heard the sound of bells, and upon my
inquiry as to the meaning of this, I was told that a larger caravan,
which had left an hour earlier than we did, was in front of us. We
accelerated our march in order to overtake it, but had hardly come
within a hundred paces from it when an intolerable stench, as if of dead
bodies, filled the air. The Persians were aware of the cause of this
poisonous stench and hurried silently on; but it went on increasing the
further we advanced. I could not restrain my curiosity any longer, but
turning to my nearest neighbour, I asked again what this meant, but he
curtly replied, betraying, however, great anxiety: "Hurry up, hurry up!
this is the caravan of the dead." This information was sufficient to
make me urge my wearied beast forward to greater speed, and after a
while I reached, together with my companions, the caravan. It consisted
of about forty animals, horses and mules, under the leadership of three
Arabs. The backs of the animals were laden with coffins, and we made
every effort to avoid the dread procession. In passing near one of the
horsemen who had charge of the caravan I caught sight of a face, which
was frightful to look at; the eyes and nose were concealed by some
wraps, and the rest of his lividly pale face looked ghastly by the light
of the moon. Undaunted by the sickening atmosphere, I rode up to his
side and inquired about the particulars of his errand. The Arab informed
me that he had been now ten days on the way, and that twenty more would
pass in taking the dead bodies to Kerbela, the place where, out of
devotion for Hussein, the pious wish to sleep their eternal sleep. This
custom prevails all over Persia; and every person who can afford it,
even if he live in distant Khorassan, makes arrangements to have his
remains carried to Kerbela, in order that they may be interred in the
soil wherein the beloved Imam Hussein is reposing. It takes sometimes
two months before the dead body can reach its place of destination. One
mule is frequently laden with four coffins, and whilst their conveyance
during the winter is comparatively harmless, it is of deadly effect, to
beast and man alike, in the heat of July in Persia.
At some distance from the caravan of the dead, I glanced back at the
strange funeral procession. The animals with their sad burden of coffins
hung their heads, seemingly trying to bury their nostrils in their
breasts, whilst the horsemen keeping at a good distance from them, were
urging them on with loud cries to greater speed. It was a spectacle
which seen anywhere could not fail to produce a profound impression of
terror, but seen in the very centre of the desert, at the dead hour of
the night, in the ghastly illumination of the moon, it could not fail to
strike the most intrepid soul with awe and terror.
XII.
KUM AND KASHAN.
The members of the little caravan had now been travelling together for
three days, and this short time was amply sufficient to establish the
friendliest feelings of good fellowship amongst them. Of course, no one
entertained the faintest suspicion of my being one of those Europeans,
the barest touch of whom renders a Shi-ite unclean, and with whom to eat
out of the same plate is a capital sin. In their eyes I was the Effendi
from Constantinople, the guest of the Turkish Embassy, who instigated by
a desire to travel was about to visit imperial Isfahan and Shiraz, the
paradise-like. I rapidly made friends with most of the company, although
some of the most obdurate Shi-ites could not refrain, at times, from
casting in my teeth the manifold wrong-doings of the Sunnites. One man
in particular, a shoemaker, whose tall green turban denoted his descent
from Ali, annoyed me with his everlasting reiterations of the sinful
usurpations of the three Caliphs. The quieter members of the company
would try to soothe his ruffled spirits on such occasions, and turn the
conversation into calmer channels; but my man very soon came back to the
charge, and waxing warm with his favourite topic, he would take hold of
the horse's bridle and talk with as much animation about the case of
succession mooted a trifle of twelve hundred years ago, as though the
whole affair had happened but yesterday.
_Kum_, with its green cupolas, loomed up before our eyes on the fourth
day of our march. It is the sacred city of the Persian female world, for
here, in the company of 444 saints, repose in eternal sleep the remains
of Fatima, a sister to Imam (Saint) Riza, who, longing to see her
brother, undertook for that purpose a journey from Bagdad to Meshed,
but, on her way, was attacked by sickness in Kum, and died there. Kum,
like Kerbela, is a favourite place of burial for Persian women, who
cause their remains to be brought to this place from all parts of the
country. But the town of Kum enjoys the less enviable distinction of
being known as the abode of numerous evil-doers, owing to its having the
privilege of sanctuary; and he who is lucky enough to escape the hands
of the executioner, and to find a refuge within its sacred walls, is
safe from all molestation.
Every member of our caravan was eager to visit Kum, some wanting to take
part in the penitential processions as pilgrims, others to make
purchases and to attend to their affairs. At a considerable distance
from Kum, the environs, like those of all places of resort for pilgrims,
are dotted by small heaps of stones, which are raised by the hands of
pious pilgrims, amidst the chanting of sacred psalms. Here and there a
bush can be seen, too, decorated with the gaudiest kind of rags which
are hanging on it. Every one is anxious to leave some mark of his
devotion in the neighbourhood; according to their inclinations, some
resort to stones, others to rags in the accomplishment of their
devotional duties. It is said that in former times another custom
prevailed by which travellers might pay their tribute of respect--every
passer-by would drive a nail into some tree on the road. I, too,
dismounted and hung upon a bush a red silk tassel from my keffie. What a
wonderful collection of fabrics from all parts of the world! On these
bushes are represented the costly handiwork of India and Cashmere, the
manufactures of England and America, and the humble frieze and coarse
linen of the nomadic Turkoman, Arab and Kurdistan tribes. Now and then
the eye is caught by a magnificent shawl suspended on the branches of a
bush, exciting no doubt the cupidity of more than one pious pilgrim
passing by; but it is perfectly safe, as no one would dare to touch it,
it being considered the blackest act of sacrilege to remove any of these
tokens of piety.
Before reaching the town we had to pass a cemetery of extraordinary
dimensions, almost two English miles in length. My fellow-travellers,
however, perceiving my astonishment at the extent of the burial ground,
assured me that in point of size it could not be compared to that of
Kerbek. We were in Kum at last; our caravan put up at the caravansary in
the centre of the bazaar, and I learned with pleasure that we were to
take a two days' rest here.
As pious pilgrims we allowed ourselves but little time for rest, and
shortly after our arrival, having washed and brushed our clothes, we
repaired to the holy tomb. No European before me ever saw the interior
of this sanctuary, for there is no power on earth to procure admission
to it for a Frengi.
Innumerable Seids, entrusted with the custody of the tomb of their
"first ancestress," are camping in the outer courtyard, planted with
trees. A chapel with a richly gilded cupola rises in the centre of the
inner court. Twelve marble steps lead up to the door. The pilgrims
remove their shoes at the first of these steps; their arms or sticks are
taken away from them, and not until they have kissed the marble
threshold are they permitted to enter. The beholder is struck with the
extraordinary splendour of the interior of the chapel. The coffin,
enclosed by a strong trellised bar of solid silver, remains always
covered with a costly carpet. From the enclosure are suspended tablets
containing prayers, which the faithful either read themselves, or have
read to them by one of the numerous Seids who are loitering about. Any
amount of shouting, singing, weeping, and moaning, and vociferous
begging of the Seids is going on in the chapel; but this infernal din
does not interfere with the devotions of a great number of pious
pilgrims, who, leaning their foreheads against the cold bars of the
enclosure, gaze with fixed eyes upon the coffin, and mutter their silent
prayers. I particularly admired the many valuable and precious objects,
ornaments of pearls and diamonds, arms inlaid with gold, which were laid
down upon the tomb of St. Fatima as sacrificial gift-offerings. My
Bagdad costume offended the eye of many a person in the fanatic Shi-ite
crowd, but, thanks to the kindness of my fellow-travellers, I
experienced no annoyance whatever. From the tomb of Fatima the pilgrims
frequently go to the tombs of some of the great ones of the earth; and I
followed my companions to the tomb of Feth Ali Shah and his two sons,
who for some reason or other stood in particularly high favour with the
devout. The tomb was of the purest alabaster, and the portraits of the
departed ones were very cleverly carved into it on the outside. After
having thus accomplished our pious devotions, we felt at liberty to
wander back to the town and look at its remarkable sights.
Here, as elsewhere, the first thing to look at was the bazaar. We were
just then in the season of ripe fruit, and the whole bazaar was filled
with the water-melons, which are so celebrated throughout all Persia.
The water-melon is, during autumnal months, the almost exclusive food of
one portion of the people of Iran, and its juice is frequently used in
case of sickness for its medicinal properties. The Kum bazaar is
remarkable not only for the abundance and delicacy of its water-melons,
but also for its earthenware, one variety of which in particular, a
long-necked pitcher, manufactured from potter's clay taken from the soil
of the sacred city, is highly valued in trade. As I was making my rounds
in the bazaar, examining everything, I happened to stop before a muslin
dyer's shop. The Persian tradesman was industriously engaged in stamping
and printing the rude stuff spread out before him, by means of stencils,
which had been previously dipped in a blue dye, pressing them down with
all his strength; and as he observed me looking at his doings, he turned
upon me angrily, and evidently taking me for a Frengi, exclaimed: "We
shall get rid of your expensive cotton fabrics, and will by and by know
all your tricks of trade; and when the Persians will be able to do
without Frengistan manufacture, I know you will all come begging to us."