attractive. The tall grass of the rich marshy pastures rippled in the
breeze in wavelets of a steely sheen. Brown villages on mounds
contrasted with the vivid green of the young rice. Towards Burujird,
of which nothing but the gilding of a dome was visible, a mass of dark
greenery refreshed the eyes. The charm of the whole was the contrast
between the "dry and thirsty land where no water is" and abundant
moisture, between the scanty and scorched herbage of the arid
mountains and the "trees planted by the rivers of water," but I
confess that the length and overpowering fatigue of that thirty-three
miles' march, much of it in blazing heat, following on three nights
without sleep, soon dulled my admiration of the plain. Hour after hour
passed on its gravelly margin, then came melon beds, files of donkeys
loaded with melons in nets, gardens of cucumbers and gourds, each with
its "lodge," irrigation channels, dykes, apricot and mulberry
orchards, lanes bordered with the graceful _elaegnus_, a large and busy
village, where after a very uncertain progress we got a local guide,
and then a low isolated hill, crowned by a dwelling arranged for
security, and a liberally planted garden, a platform with terraced
slopes and straight formal walks, a terrace with a fine view, and two
tanks full of turtles (which abound in many places) under large
willows, giving a pleasant shade. Between them I have pitched my
tents, with the lines of an old hymn constantly occurring to me--
"Interval of grateful shade,
Welcome to my weary head."
Burujird, one and a half mile off, and scarcely seen above the
intervening woods, gives a suggestion of civilisation to the
landscape. In the sunset, which is somewhat fiery, Shuturun and the
precipices of the Tang-i-Bahrain are reddening.
The last three marches have been more severe than the whole travelling
of the last three months. Happy thought, that no call to "boot and
saddle" will break the stillness of to-morrow morning!
I. L. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] This untoward affair ended well, but had there been bloodshed on
either side, had any one of us been killed, which easily might have
been, the world would never have believed but that some offence had
been given, and that some high-handed action had been the cause of the
attack. I am in a position to say, not only that no offence was given,
but that here and everywhere the utmost care was taken not to violate
Bakhtiari etiquette, or wound religious or national susceptibilities;
all supplies were paid for above their value; the servants, always
under our own eyes, were friendly but reserved; and in all dealings
with the people kindness and justice were the rule. I make these
remarks in the hope of modifying any harsh judgments which may be
passed upon any travellers who have died unwitnessed deaths at the
hands of natives. There are, as in our case, absolutely unprovoked
attacks.
[9] See Appendix A.
[10] I am inclined to estimate the Bakhtiari population at a higher
figure than some travellers have given. I took forty-three men at
random from the poorest class and from various tribes, and got from
them the number of their families, wives and children only being
included, and the average was eight to a household.
[11] Book xvii. c. viii.
LETTER XXI
BURUJIRD, _Aug. 16_.
A week has glided away since I sent my last diary letter, with only
two events of direct personal interest, one being that I have bought a
young, powerful little Bakhtiari horse, which has been in camp since
we left the Karun river, a dark bay, with black points, big feet, a
big ugly head, and big flopping ears, but otherwise passably
good-looking, an unsuspicious animal, brought up in tent life, with
children rolling about among his feet, and as yet quite ignorant that
man can be anything but his friend. I intend to look after his
well-being, but not to make a pet of him.
The other event occurred on the morning after our arrival, and took
the place of the "boot and saddle" call, for I was awakened very early
by a hubbub round my tent, the interpretation of which was that a
packing case in three compartments, containing my cooking utensils,
remaining table equipments, and stores, had been carried off before
daylight, deposited in an adjacent plantation, broken open, and
emptied. Thus I was left with nothing, and have been unable to get
anything in the bazars here except two cooking pots and a tin teapot
of unique construction made to order. The few other things which I
still regard as absolute necessaries, a cup, plate, knife, fork, and
spoon, have been lent me by the Agha. All my tea is gone, the worst
loss of all.
Later in the day Hassan came in a quiet rage, saying that he would
leave for Isfahan at once, because Mirza had accused him of not
keeping an efficient watch, and shortly afterwards Mahomet Ali and his
handsome donkey actually did leave.[12] Burujird bears a very bad
reputation. Here, last year, a young English officer was robbed of his
tents and horses, and everything but the clothes he wore.
The Governor, on hearing of the theft, said I should not have "camped
in the wilderness," the "wilderness" being a beautifully kept garden
with a gardener (who was arrested) and a house. For the last week a
guard of six soldiers has watched by day and night.
The news received from the Bakhtiari country is rather startling.
Mirab Khan, who looked too ill and frail for active warfare, sent a
messenger with a letter to Khaja Taimur, urging him to join him in an
attack on Aslam Khan. The letter was intercepted by this "Judas," and
now the country from Kalahoma to Khanabad is in a flame. Serious
troubles have broken out in this plain, all the Khans of the Sagwand
tribe having united to rise against the payment of a tribute which
they regard as heavy enough to "crush the life out of the people." The
_H[=a]kim_ has telegraphed for troops, and the governor of Luristan is
said to be coming with 500 men.
A "tribute insurrection," on a larger or smaller scale, is a common
autumnal event. The Khans complain of being oppressed by "merciless
exactions." They say that the tribute fixed by the Shah is "not too
much," but that it is doubled and more by the rapacity of governors,
and that the people are growing poorer every year. They complain that
when they decline to pay more than the tribute fixed by the
Amin-es-Sultan, soldiers are sent, who drive off their mares, herds of
cattle, and flocks to the extent of three, four, and five times the
sum demanded.
These few words contain the substance of statements almost universally
made. There is probably another side, and they may be true in part
only. The tribesmen of Silakhor state that they had protested and
appealed in vain before they decided on resistance. Every Khan with
whom I have conversed has besought me to lay his case before the
"English Vakil" at Tihran.
This widely-diffused belief in England as the redresser of wrongs is
very touching, and very palatable to one's national pride. All these
people have heard of the way in which the cultivators in India have
been treated, of "land settlements" and English "settlement officers,"
and they say, "England could make everything right for us." So she
could, "and she would"! As the governors pay large sums for offices
from which they are removable at the Shah's pleasure, and as the lower
officials all pay more or less heavily for their positions, we may
reasonably infer that all, from the highest to the lowest, put on the
screw, and squeeze all they can out of the people, over and above the
tribute fixed at Tihran. Near views of Oriental despotisms are as
disenchanting as near views of "the noble savage," for they contain
within themselves the seeds of "all villainies," which rarely, if
ever, fail of fructification.
Mirza Karim Khan, the Governor of Burujird, called a few days ago, a
young harassed-looking man, with very fine features, but a look of
serious bad health. He complained so much that the Agha asked his
attendant, a very juvenile _Hak[=i]m_, speaking a little scarcely
intelligible French, if he would object to the Governor taking
something from the famous "leather box," and the effect was so
magical that the next day he looked a different man.
An arrangement was made for returning the visit, and he received us in
a handsome tent in a garden, with the usual formalities, but only a
scribe and the _Hak[=i]m_ were present. A _sowar_, sent from Burujird
with a letter to the Sahib, was undoubtedly robbed of his horse, gun,
and some of his clothing _en route_. Very quietly the Governor denied
this, but as he did so I saw a wink pass between the scribe and
_Hak[=i]m_. It was a pitiable sight,--a high official sitting there,
with luxuries about him, in a city with its walls, embankments, and
gates ruinous, the brickwork in the palace gardens lying in heaps, his
province partially disturbed, the people rising against what, at the
least, are oppressive exactions, raising an enormous tribute, from
which there is no outlay on province or city, government for the good
of the governed never entering into his (as rarely into any other
Oriental) mind.
This evening he has made a farewell visit on the terrace, attended by
the _Hak[=i]m_. Aziz Khan stood on the edge of the carpet, and
occasionally interjected a remark into the conversation. I have before
said that he has a certain gentlemanliness and even dignity, and his
manner was neither cringing nor familiar. The _Hak[=i]m_, however,
warned him not to speak in presence of the Governor, a restraint
which, though very different from the free intercourse of retainers
with their chiefs among the Bakhtiari, was in strict accordance with
the proprieties of Persian etiquette. Aziz stalked away, shaking his
wide _shulwars_, with an air of contempt. "This governor," he
afterwards said, "what is he? If it were Isfandyar Khan, and he were
lying down, my head would be next to his, and twenty more men would be
lying round him to guard his life with ours."
It seems as if Burujird were destitute of cavalry, at least of men who
can be spared, though it has been stated that a whole cavalry regiment
is in garrison.[13]
The Governor promised three escorts; my modest request was for one
_sowar_, and a very unmilitary-looking horseman has arrived for me,
but now, within an hour of marching, the others are without even one!
Attended by the _Hak[=i]m_ and an escort, we rode yesterday through
Burujird. To write that a third of it is in ruins is simply to write
that it is a Persian town. It has crumbling mud walls, said to be five
miles in circumference, five gates in bad repair, and a ditch, now
partially cultivated.
It is situated in Lat. 33 deg. 55' N, and its Long. is 48 deg. 55' E. Its
elevation is 4375 feet [Bell]. Its population is estimated at from
12,000 to 18,000, and includes a great many Seyyids and _mollahs_. It
has a Persian Telegraph Office and Post Office, neither of them to be
depended upon, six large and very many small mosques, a number of
mosque schools, thirty-three public baths, and six caravanserais. It
manufactures woollen goods, carpets, and the best _arak_ to be found
in Persia. It also produces dried fruits and treacle made from grapes.
The bazars are large, light, and well supplied with European goods,
Russian and English cottons in enormous quantities, Austrian kerosene
lamps of all descriptions and prices, Russian mirrors, framed coloured
engravings of the Russian Imperial family, Russian _samovars_,
tea-glasses and tea-trays, Russian sewing and machine cotton, American
sewing machines, Russian woollen cloth, fine and heavy, Russian
china, and Russian sugar-loaves, to the sale of which several shops
are exclusively devoted.
Persian manufactures are chiefly represented by heavy cottons, dyed
and stamped at Isfahan, carpets, saddles, horse and mule furniture,
copper cooking utensils, shoes of all makes, pipes, _kalians_, rope,
ornamented travelling trunks, _galon_, gimps, tassels of silk and
wool, and "small wares" of all kinds, with rude pottery, oil jars,
each big enough to contain a man, great water-jars, small clay bowls
glazed roughly with a green glaze, guns, swords, pistols, long knives,
and the tools used by the different trades.
Altogether the bazars look very thriving, and they were crowded with
buyers. Possibly the people have rarely if ever seen a Feringhi woman,
and they crowded very much upon me, and the escort drove them off in
the usual fashion, with sticks and stones. Though much of Burujird
lies in ruins it has a fair aspect of prosperity and some very good
houses and new buildings. The roads are cobbled with great stones, and
are certainly not worse than those of the older parts of Tihran. Water
is abundant.
Nature evidently intends Burujird to be a prosperous city. The
pasturage of the plain is magnificent, and the rich soil produces two
crops a year. All cereals flourish. Wheat and barley ripen in July.
Seven sorts of grapes grow, and ripen in August and September, and
some of the clusters are finer than any of our hothouse produce. Water
and musk melons, tobacco, maize, gourds and cucumbers, beans, the
_bringal_ or egg plant, peas, flax and other oil seeds, rice and
cotton, apricots, walnuts, pomegranates, and peaches testify to the
excellence of the soil and climate.
Not only is Burujird in the midst of an exceptionally fine
agricultural district, but it is connected by caravan routes with the
best agricultural and commercial regions of Persia to the north, east,
and west by easy roads, never snow-blocked, or at least they never
need be if there were traffic enough to keep them open. It is only 130
miles from rich Kirmanshah, 90 from the fertile district which
surrounds Hamadan, 60 from Sultanabad, the most important
carpet-producing region of Western Persia, and rich besides in grain
and cotton, 140 from Kum, on the main road from Isfahan to Tihran,
something about 230 from Tihran, and only 310 from Ahwaz.
These routes are all easy, though, so far as I know them, very badly
supplied with caravanserais, except on the main road between the two
capitals. The southern road, leading through Khuramabad to Dizful and
Shuster, has no great natural difficulties, though part of it lies
through a mountainous region. Some blasting and much boulder-lifting
would, according to Colonel Bell, remedy the evils of the fifty miles
of it which he regards as bad. But, apart from this, the
Shuster-Burujird route, the most _natural_ route for north and
south-western Persian commerce to take to and from the sea, is at
present useless to trade from its insecurity, as the Feili Lurs,
through whose territory it passes, own no authority, live by robbery
when they have any one to rob, and are always fighting each other.
There are no regular _charvadars_ in Burujird, and many and tedious
have been the difficulties in the way of getting off. Up to last night
I had no mules, and Hadji said mournfully, "When you learn what other
_charvadars_ are like, you'll think of me." I have taken leave of Aziz
Khan with regret. He echoes the oft-repeated question, "Why does not
England come and give us peace? In a few years we should all be rich,
and not have to fight each other." "Stay among us for some years," he
said, "and you will get very rich. What have you to go back to in
Feringhistan?" He asked me for a purse, and to put some _krans_ in it
for his children, but not to give him any money. He said that when he
asked for money and other things he was only in fun. I do not know
whether to believe him.
Mirza and my caravan started this morning, and now, 4 P.M., I am
leaving with the _sowar_, with the mercury at 90 deg., for the first march
of a journey of 800 miles.
I. L. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] I have since heard that this youth was an accomplice of a
Burujird man in this theft, and of an Armenian in a robbery of money
which occurred in Berigun.
[13] Throughout the part of Persia in which I have travelled I have
observed a most remarkable discrepancy between the numbers of soldiers
_said_ to garrison any given place, and the number which on further
investigation turned out to be actually there. It is safe to deduct
from fifty to ninety per cent from the number in the original
statement!
LETTER XXII
HAMADAN, _Aug. 28_.
It was as I thought. The _sowar_ sent with me was only a harmless
peasant taken from the plough, mounted on his own horse, and provided
with a Government gun. The poor fellow showed the "white feather" on
the first march, and I was obliged to assert the "ascendency of race"
and ride in front of him. The villagers at once set him down as an
impostor, and refused him supplies, and as his horse could not keep up
with mine, and the road presented no apparent perils, I dismissed him
at the end of three days with a _largesse_ which gladdened his heart.
He did not know the way, and the afternoon I left Burujird he led me
through ploughed fields and along roadless hillsides, till at the end
of an hour I found myself close to the garden from which I started.
The early part of the first march is over great bare gravelly slopes
without water. Then come irrigation and villages. The hills have been
eaten nearly bare. Nothing remains but a yellow salvia and the
beautiful _Eryngium caeruleum_. There, as in the Bakhtiari country, the
people stack the _Centaurea alata_ for winter fodder. The road is
good, and except in two places a four-wheeled carriage could be driven
over it at a trot.
The camping-ground was outside Deswali, an unwalled village of 106
houses, with extensive cultivated lands and a "well-to-do" aspect. The
people raise cereals, melons, cucumbers, grapes, and cotton, but in
bad seasons have to import wheat. There, as at every village since,
the _ketchuda_ has called upon me, and some of these men have been
intelligent and communicative, and have shown such courtesies as have
been in their power. It is an unusual, if not an unheard-of, thing for
a European lady, even if she knows Persian, to travel through this
country without a European escort; but there has been no rudeness or
impertinent curiosity, no crowding even; the headmen all seemed
anxious for my comfort, and supplies at reasonable rates have always
been forthcoming.
The heat at Deswali was overpowering, the mercury in my tent standing
for hours on 17th August at 120 deg., the temperature in the shade being
104 deg.
It is vain to form any resolution against making a pet of a horse. My
new acquisition, "_Boy_," insisted on being petted, and his winning
and enticing ways are irresistible. He is always tethered in front of
my tent with a rope so long as to give him a considerable amount of
liberty, and he took advantage of this the very first day to come into
the tent and make it very apparent that he wanted me to divide a melon
with him. Grapes were his next _penchant_, then cucumber, bread, and
biscuits. Then he actually drank milk out of a soup plate. He comes up
to me and puts his head down to have his ears rubbed, and if I do not
attend to him at once, or cease attending to him, he gives me a gentle
but admonitory thump. I dine outside the tent, and he is tied to my
chair, and waits with wonderful patience for the odds and ends, only
occasionally rubbing his soft nose against my face to remind me that
he is there. Up to this time a friendly snuffle is the only sound that
he has made. He does not know how to fight, or that teeth and heels
are of any other use than to eat and walk with. He is really the
gentlest and most docile of his race. The point at which he "draws
the line" is being led. He drags back, and a mulish look comes into
his sweet eyes. But he follows like a dog, and as I walk as much as I
can I always have him with me. He comes when I call him, stops when I
stop, goes off the road with me when I go in search of flowers, and
usually puts his head either on my shoulder or under my arm. To him I
am an embodiment of melons, cucumbers, grapes, pears, peaches,
biscuits, and sugar, with a good deal of petting and ear-rubbing
thrown in. Every day he becomes more of a companion. He walks very
fast, gallops easily, never stumbles, can go anywhere, is never tired,
and is always hungry. I paid L4:15s. for him, but he was bought from
the Bakhtiaris for L3:14s. as a four-year-old. He is "up to" sixteen
stone, jumps very well, and is an excellent travelling horse.
Redundant forelocks and wavy manes, uncut tails carried in fiery
fashion, small noses, quivering nostrils, small restless ears, and
sweet intelligent eyes add wonderfully to the attractiveness of the
various points of excellence which attract a horse-fancier in Persia.
A Persian horse in good condition may be backed against any horse in
the world for weight-carrying powers, endurance, steadiness, and
surefootedness, is seldom unsound, and is to his rider a friend as
well as a servant. Generally speaking, a horse can carry his rider
wherever a mule can carry a load, and will do from thirty to forty
miles a day for almost any length of time.
The clothing of horses is an important matter. Even in this hot
weather they wear a good deal--first a _parhan_ or shirt of fine wool
crossed over the chest; next the _jul_, a similar garment, but in
coarser wool; and at night over all this is put the _namad_, a piece
of felt half an inch thick, so long that it wraps the animal from head
to tail, and so deep as to cover his body down to his knees. A broad
surcingle of woollen webbing keeps the whole in place.
The food does not vary. It consists of from seven to ten pounds of
barley daily, in two feeds, and as much as a horse can eat of _kah_,
which is straw broken in pieces about an inch and a half long. While
travelling, barley and _kah_ are mixed in the nose-bag. No hay is
given, and there are no oats. It is customary among the rich to give
their horses an exclusive diet of barley grass for one month in the
spring, on which they grow very fat and useless. Old horses are fed on
dough-balls made of barley-flour and water. A grape diet is also given
in the grape-producing regions in the autumn instead of _kah_. _Boy_
eats ten pounds of grapes as a mere dessert.
I admire and like the Persian horse. His beauty is a constant
enjoyment, and, ferocious as he is to his fellows, he is gentle and
docile to man. I cannot now recall having seen a vicious horse in
seven months. On the whole they are very well cared for, and are
kindly treated. The sore backs of baggage horses are almost
inevitable, quite so, indeed, so long as the present form of
pack-saddle stuffed with _kah_ is used. Mares are not ridden in Persia
proper.
The march from Deswali to Sahmine is a pretty one, at first over long
buff rolling hills and through large elevated villages, then turning
off from the Kirmanshah road and descending into a broad plain, the
whole of which for several miles is occupied by the trees and gardens
of the eminently prosperous village of Sahmine, whose 500 families,
though they pay a tribute of 2400 _tumans_ a year, have "nothing to
complain of."[14]
I was delighted with the oasis of Sahmine. It has abundant water for
irrigation, which means abundant fertility. Its walnut trees are
magnificent, and its gardens are filled with noble fruit trees. The
wheat harvest was being brought in, and within the walls it was
difficult to find a place to camp on, for all the open spaces were
threshing-floors, piled with sheaves of wheat and mounds of _kah_, in
the midst of which oxen in spans of two were threshing. That is, they
drew machines like heavy wood sleds, with transverse revolving wooden
rollers set with iron fans at different angles, which cut the straw to
pieces. A great heap of unbound sheaves is in the centre, and from
this men throw down the stalked ears till they come up to the bodies
of the oxen, adding more as fast as the straw is trodden down. A boy
sits on the car and keeps the animals going in a circle hour after
hour with a rope and a stick. The foremost oxen are muzzled. The grain
falls out during this process.