to call on the Governor. He received me in a sort of _durbar_. A great
number of men, litigants and others, crowded the corridors and
reception-rooms. He looked bloated and dissipated, and seemed scarcely
sober. He sat on cushions on the floor, with a row of scribes and
_mollahs_ on his right, and many _farashes_ and soldiers stood about
the door. Seyyids, handsome and haughty, glanced at me contemptuously,
and the drunken giggle of the Khan and the fixed scowl of the
motionless row of scribes were really overpowering. Tea was produced,
but the circumstances were so disagreeable that I did not wait for the
conventional third cup. The Khan said that the ladies are in the
country a few miles off, and hoped I would visit them, that some
marches on the road are unsafe, and that he would give me a letter
which would be useful in procuring escorts after I left his
jurisdiction, and he has since sent it. He was quite courteous, as
indeed all Persians of the upper classes are, but I hope never again
to pass through the ordeal of calling upon a Moslem without a European
escort.
Later, the principal wife of the military commander of the district
called with a train of shrouded women, followed by servants bringing
an abundant dinner, with much fruit. She came to ask me to take up my
quarters in the very handsome house which is her husband's, very near
my tent. After a good deal of intelligent conversation she asked if I
had a husband and children, and on my replying in the negative she
expressed very kindly sympathy, but added, "There are things far
worse, things which can never be where, as among you, there is only
one wife. One may have a husband and children, and yet, God knows, be
made nearly mad by troubles," and she looked as if indeed her sorrows
were great. Doubtless a young wife has been installed as favourite, or
there is a divorce impending.
_Takautapa, September 24._--This is a great grain-growing region, and
by no means unprosperous, but it only yields one crop a year, the land
is ploughed immediately after harvest, and the irrigation is cut off
until sowing-time. Consequently nothing can exceed the ugliness of the
aspect of the country at this time. There is not one redeeming
feature, and on the long marches there is rarely anything to please or
interest the eye. On the march from Bijar there was not a green thing
except some poplars and willows by a stream, not a blade of grass, not
a green "weed,"--nothing but low mud hills, with their sides much
ploughed and the furrows baked hard, and unploughed gravelly stretches
covered sparsely with scorched thistles.
Eight miles of an easy descent of 1500 feet brought us to the Kizil
Uzen, a broad but fordable stream, on the other side of which is
Salamatabad, a village consisting chiefly of the large walled gardens
and houses of the Governor of Bijar. A little higher up there is a
solid eight-arched stone bridge, over 300 feet long. This Kizil Uzen
is one of the most important streams in north Persia. It drains a very
large area, and after a long and devious course enters the Caspian Sea
under the name of the Sefid Rud. Eleven miles from this place I
crossed the lofty crest of the ridge which divides the drainage basins
of the Kizil Uzen and Urmi. A number of _sowars_ came out and escorted
me through a gateway down a road with high walls and buildings on both
sides to an inner gateway leading to the Khan's _andarun_. Here we all
dismounted, but the next step was not obvious, for the heavy wooden
gate which secludes the _andarun_ was strongly barred, and showed no
symptoms of welcome. An aged eunuch put his melancholy head out of a
hole at the side, and said that the ladies were expecting me and that
food was ready for the animals and the servants, but still the gate
moved not. I asked if Mirza could go with me to interpret, the
_sowars_ suggesting that he could be screened behind a curtain, quite
a usual mode of disposing of such a difficulty. The eunuch returned,
and with him the Khan's mother, a fiendish-looking middle-aged woman,
who looked through the peep-hole, but on seeing a good-looking young
man drew back, and said very definitely that no man could be admitted,
especially in the absence of the Khan. All the men were warned off,
and the door was opened so as just to allow of my entrance and no
more.
The principal wife received me in a fine lofty room with fretwork
windows opening on a courtyard with a fountain in it and a few
pomegranates, and a crowd of Persian, Kurdish, and negro women, with
all manner of babies. The lady is from Tihran, and her manners have
some of the ease and polish of the capital. It is still the Moharrem,
and she was enveloped in a black _chadar_, and wore as her sole
ornament a small diamond-studded watch as a locket. Her mother-in-law,
who, like many mothers-in-law in Persia, fills the post of _duenna_ to
the establishment, frightened me by the expression of her handsome
face and her sneering, fiendish laugh. It must be admitted that there
was much to amuse her, for my slender stock of badly-pronounced
Persian is the Persian of muleteers rather than of polite circles, and
she mimicked every word I uttered, looking all the time like one of
Michael Angelo's "Fates."
The room was very prettily curtained, and furnished with Russian
materials, they told me, and the lithographs, the photographs and
their frames, and the many "knick-knacks" which adorned the tables and
recesses were all Russian. They showed me several small clocks and
very ingenious watches, all Russian also. They said that the goods in
the shops at Bijar are chiefly Russian, and added, "The English don't
try to suit our taste as the Russians do." The principal lady
expressed a wish for greater liberty, though she qualified it by
saying that men who love their wives could not let them go about as
the English ladies do in Tihran. Dinner had been prepared, a huge
Persian dinner, but they kindly allowed me to take tea instead, and
produced with it _gaz_ (manna) and a cake flavoured with asafoetida.
When I came to an end of my Persian, and they of their ideas, I said
farewell, and was followed to the gate by the mocking laugh of the
_duenna_.
The _sowars_ asserted that the next _farsakh_ was "very dangerous," so
we kept together. Wild, desolate, rolling, scrubless open country it
is, the spurs of the Kurdish hills. The _sowars_ were very fussy and
did a great deal of galloping and scouting, saying that bands of
robber horsemen are often met with on this route, who, being Sunnis,
would rejoice in attacking Shiahs. Doubtless they magnified the risk
in order to enhance the value of their services. In the early
afternoon we reached the Kurdish village of Karabul[=a]k, sixty mud
hovels, on the flaring mud hillside, the great fodder stacks on the
flat roofs alone making the houses obvious. The water is very bad and
limited in quantity, and of milk there was none. The people are very
poor and unprosperous, and a meaner set of donkeys and oxen than those
which were treading out the corn close to my tent I have not seen.
Though most of the inhabitants are Kurds, there are some Persians and
Turks, and each nationality has its own _ketchuda_. Towards evening
the _sowars_ came to me with the three _ketchudas_, who, they said,
would arrange for a guard, and for my escort the next day. I did not
like this, for the _sowars_ had good double-barrelled guns, and were
in Persian uniform, and had been given me for three days, but there
was no help for it. The _ketchudas_ said that they could not guarantee
my safety that night with less than ten men, and I saw in the whole
affair a design on my very slender purse. A monetary panic set in
before I reached Hamadan: the sovereign had fallen from thirty-four to
twenty-eight _krans_, the Jews would not take English paper at any
price, I could not cash my circular notes, and it was only through the
kindness of the American missionaries that I had any money at all, and
I had only enough for ordinary expenses as far as Urmi. I told them
that I could only pay two men, and dismissed the _sowars_ with a
present quite out of proportion to the time they had been with me.
During these arrangements the hubbub was indescribable, but the men
were very pleasant. Three hours later the _sowars_ returned, saying
that after riding eight miles they had met a messenger with a letter
from the Khan, telling them to go on another day with me. I asked to
see the letter, and then they said it was a verbal message. They had
never been outside of Karabul[=a]k! I tell this in detail to show how
intricate are the meshes of the net in which a traveller on these
unfrequented roads is entangled.
Later, ten wild-looking Kurds with long guns, various varieties of old
swords, and long knives, lighted great watch-fires on either side of
my tent, and put _Boy_ between them. This pet likes fires, and lies
down fearlessly among the men, close to the embers.
A little below my camp was a solitary miserable-looking melon garden
with a low mud wall. At midnight I was awakened by the loud report of
several guns close to my tent, and confused shouts of men, with
outcries of women and children. The watchmen saw two men robbing the
melon garden, shot one, and captured both. I gave a present to the
guards in the morning, and the _ketchudas_ took half of it.
The march to Jafirabad is over the same monotonous country, over
ever-ascending rolling hills, with small plateaux among them, very
destitute of water, and consequently of population, the village of
Khashmaghal, with 150 houses, and two ruined forts, being the one
object of interest.
On the way to Jafirabad is the small village of Nasrabad, once a
cluster of semi-subterranean hovels, inhabited by thieves. Some years
ago the present Shah halted near it on one of his hunting excursions,
and observing the desolation of the country, and water running to
waste, gave money and lands to bribe a number of families to settle
there. There are now sixty houses surrounded by much material wealth.
The Shah still divides 100 _tumans_ yearly among the people, and takes
a very small tribute. Nasr-ed-Din has many misdeeds to answer for,
many despotic acts, and some bloodshed, but among the legions of
complaints of oppression and grinding exactions which I hear in most
places, I have not heard one of the tribute fixed by him--solely of
the exactions and merciless rapacity of the governors and their
subordinate officials.
Jafirabad, a village of 100 houses in the midst of arable land, has
one of those camping-grounds of smooth green sward at once so tempting
and so risky, and we all got rheumatism in the moist chilliness of the
night. The mercury is still falling slowly and steadily, and the sun
is only really hot between ten and four. Jafirabad is a prosperous
village, owned, as many in this region are, by the Governor of Tabriz,
who is merciful as to tribute.
Everything was wet, even inside my tent. It was actually cold. In the
yellow dawn I heard Mirza's cheerful voice saying, "Madam, they think
your horse is dead!" The creature had been stretched out motionless
for two hours in the midst of bustle and packing. I told them to take
off his nose-bag, which was nearly full, but still he did not move. I
went up to him and said sharply, "Come, get up, old _Boy_" and he
struggled slowly to his feet, shook himself, and at once fumbled in my
pockets for food, thumping me with his head as usual when he failed to
find any. He was benumbed by sleeping on the damp ground in the
hoar-frost. The next night he chose to sleep under the verandah of my
tent, snoring loudly. He has became quite a friend and companion.
The _sowars_ finally left me there, and I was escorted by the
_ketchuda_, a very pleasant intelligent man of considerable property,
with his two retainers. The next stage has the reputation of being
"very dangerous," and many people anxious to go to the next village
joined my caravan. My tents were guarded by eight wild-looking village
Kurds, armed with clubbed sticks and long guns. I asked the _ketchuda_
if two were not enough, and he said that I should only pay for two,
the others were there for his satisfaction, that two might combine to
rob me, but that more would watch each other, and that the robbers of
this region do not pilfer in ones and twos, but swoop down on tents in
large parties.
The next march is chiefly along valleys among low hills. The
_ketchuda_ did much scouting, not without good reason, and we all kept
close together. A party of well-mounted men rode down upon us and
joined us. Mirza sidled up to me, and in his usual cheery tones said
"Madam, these are robbers." They were men of a well-known band, under
one Hassan Khan. They spoke Persian, and Mirza kept me informed of
what they were saying. They said they had been out a night and a day
without success, and they must take my baggage and horse--they wanted
horses badly. The _ketchuda_, to whom they were well known,
remonstrated with them, and the parley went on for some time, they
insisting, and he threatening them with the regiment from Bijar, but
all he said was of no use, till he told them that I was the wife of
the Governor of Tabriz, that I had been paying a visit to Hamadan, and
was then going to be the guest of the ladies of Hadji Baba, Governor
of Achaz, that I had been committed to him, and that he was answerable
for my safety. "You know I am a man of my word," was the conclusion of
this brilliant lie, which served its purpose, for they said they knew
him, and would not rob me _then_.
They rode with us for some miles, in fact the leader, a
sinister-looking elderly man, in a turban and brown _abba_ like an
Arab, rode so close to me that the barrel of his gun constantly
touched my saddle. They carried double-barrelled guns besides
revolvers. On coming to a part of the country where the _ketchuda_
said the road became safe, I sent the caravan on with the servants,
the band having gone in another direction, and halted for two hours.
Riding on again, and turning sharply round a large rock, there they
all were, dismounted, and rushed out upon us. A _melee_ ensued, and as
I then had only two men they were two to one, and would certainly have
overpowered my escort had not several horsemen appeared in the
distance, when they mounted and rode away. One of the horses was
scratched, and I got an accidental cut on my wrist. They believed that
I had a considerable sum of money with me. The _ketchuda_ of Takautapa
said that they had robbed his village of some cattle a few days
before.
Takautapa is a village of thirty-five houses, with two shops, and a
gunsmith who seemed to drive a "roaring trade." For three days I have
scarcely seen an unarmed man. Shepherds, herdsmen, ploughmen,
travellers, all carry arms. Mirza went to the Governor of Achaz, six
miles off, with my letter from the Governor of Bijar, and he was most
courteous. He sent his secretary to ask me to spend a day or two at
his house, and told him, in case I could not, to remain for the night
to arrange for my comfort and safety, an order very efficiently
carried out.[20]
He sent word also that if I could not accept his hospitality I was
still to be his guest, and not to pay for anything--a kindness which,
for several reasons, I never accept. He added, that though the road
was safe, he should send three _sowars_ "to show the _Khanum_ honour,"
and they had received strict orders not to accept any present. The men
who attempted to rob my caravan spent the night here, and, as they had
robbed them before, the villagers were very glad of the protection of
the Governor's scribe and my _sowars_.
_Sujbul[=a]k, October 2._--Having been "courteously entreated," I sent
on the caravan and servants at daybreak, and, having the _sowars_ with
me, was able to make the march to Geokahaz at a fast pace. The
_sowars_ were three wild-looking Kurds, well mounted, and in galloping
_Boy_ had to exert himself considerably to keep up with them, and they
obviously tried to force his pace.
The day was cool, cool enough for a sheepskin coat, and the air
delightful. The halcyon season for Persian travelling has come, the
difficulties are over, and the fever has left me. Brown, bare, and
bushless as are the rolling hills over which the road passes, it would
be impossible not to enjoy the long gallops over the stoneless soil,
the crisp, bracing air, the pure blue of the glittering sky, and the
changed altitude of the sun, which, from having been my worst foe is
now a genial friend. True, the country over which I pass is not
interesting, but, as everywhere in Persia, craggy mountains are in
sight, softened by a veil of heavenly blue, and the country, though
uninteresting, suggests pleasant thoughts of fertility, an abundant
harvest, and an industrious and fairly prosperous people.[21] Turki is
now almost exclusively spoken.
The whole of that day's route was an ascent, and the halting-place was
nearly 9000 feet in altitude. I crossed the Sarakh river by a
three-arched brick bridge, and afterwards the Gardan-i-Tir-Machi, from
which there is an extensive view, and reached Geokahaz by a rough path
on the hillside frequently dipping into deep gulches, now dry. The
wettest of these is close to the village, and is utilised for a
flour-mill. Springs abound, and as Persian soil brings forth
abundantly wherever there is water, the village, which is Kurdish,
confessed to being extremely prosperous. Its seven threshing-floors
were in the full tide of winnowing with the fan, and so complete is
the process that nothing but the wheat is left on the firm, hardened
gypsum floor, recalling the Baptist's words, "Whose fan is in his
hand, and he will throughly purge his floor." The wheat was everywhere
being gathered "into the garner"--the large upright clay receptacles
holding twenty bushels each with which every house is supplied.
This village of only 200 houses owns 7000 sheep and goats, 60 horses
and mares, and 400 head of cattle, and its tribute is only 230
_tumans_. It and very many other villages belong to Haidar Khan,
Governor of Achaz, of whom the villagers speak as a lenient lord.
Apricot and pear orchards abound, and on a piece of grass in one of
these I found my camp most delectably pitched. The _ketchuda_ and
several other men came to meet me; indeed, the _istikbal_ consisted of
over twenty Kurdish horsemen. The village was absolutely crowded with
men and horses, 200 pilgrims being lodged there for the night.
The road at intervals all day had been enlivened by long files of
well-mounted men in bands of 100 each on their way to the shrines of
Kerbela, south of Babylon, to accumulate "merit," receive
certificates, and be called _Kerbelai_ for the remainder of their
lives. Superb-looking men in the very prime of life most of them are,
cheerful and ruddy, wearing huge black sheepskin caps shaped like
mushrooms, high tan-leather boots, gaily embroidered, into which their
full trousers are tucked, and brown sheepskin coats covering not only
themselves but the bodies of their handsome fiery horses. A few
elderly unveiled women were among them. They ride mostly on pads with
their bedding and clothing under them, and their _kalians_ and cooking
utensils hanging at the sides. All are armed with guns and swords. I
met over 1000 of them, most of them Russian subjects, and those who
had occasion to pass in front of my tent vindicated their claim to be
the subjects of a civilised power by bowing low as often as they saw
me. They are really splendid men, and had many elements of the
picturesque.
The 200 who halted in Geokahaz were under the command of a Seyyid who,
before starting, beat about for recruits, and levied from them about
five _krans_ per head. On the journey he receives great honour as a
descendant of the Prophet. He has a baggage mule and a tent, and the
"pilgrims" under his charge gratefully cook his food, wait on him,
groom his animal, water the dusty ground round his tent, shampoo his
limbs, keep the flies from him, and are rewarded for the performance
of all menial offices by being allowed to kiss his hand. On his part
he chooses the best stations and the most fortunate days for starting,
and he pledges himself to protect his flock from the woful plots of
malignant genii and the effects of the evil eye. On the journey he
both preaches and recites tales.
The Seyyid in charge of this party was a man of commanding _physique_
and deadly pallor of countenance. As frigid as marble, out of which
his statuesque face might well have been carved, he received the
attention paid to him with the sublime indifference of a statue of
Buddha. The odour of an acknowledged sanctity hung about him, and
pride of race and pride of asceticism dwelt upon his handsome
features. He spent the evening in preaching a sermon, and, by a
carefully-arranged exhibition of emotion, studied to perfection, wound
up his large audience to a pitch of enthusiasm. The subject was the
virtues of Houssein, and what preacher could take such a text without
enlarging finally upon the martyrdom of that "sainted" man? Then the
auditors wept and howled and beat their breasts, and long after I left
the singular scene, trained "cheers" for the Prophet, for Ali, and for
the martyred Hassan and Houssein, led by the Seyyid, rang out upon
the still night air. At midnight, and again at four, a solitary
bell-like voice proclaimed over the sleeping village, "There is but
one God, and Mohammed is His prophet, and Ali is His lieutenant"; and
200 voices repeated grandly in unison, "There is but one God, holy and
true, and Mohammed is His prophet, and Ali is His lieutenant." The
addition of the words "holy and true" to the ordinary formula is very
striking, and is, I believe, quite unusual. The Seyyid preached in
Persian, and the pilgrims speak it.
In such caravans a strictly democratic feeling prevails. All yield
honour to the Seyyid, but otherwise all are equal. No matter what the
social differences are, the pilgrims eat the same food, lodge in the
same rooms, sit round the same bivouac fire, and use towards each
other perfect freedom of speech--a like errand and a like creed
constituting a simple bond of brotherhood.
Geokahaz is the first Kurdish village in which I have really mixed
with the people. I found them cordial, hospitable, and in every way
pleasant. The _ketchuda's_ wife called on me, and later I returned the
visit. Each house or establishment has much the same externals, being
walled round, and having between the wall and house an irregular yard,
to which access is gained by a gate of plaited osiers. Within are very
low and devious buildings, with thick mud walls. The _atrium_, an
alcove with plastered walls, decorated with circles and other figures
in red, is the gathering-place of the men, with their guns and pipes.
It is necessary to stoop very low to enter the house proper, for the
doorway is only three feet high, and is protected by a heavy wooden
door strengthened by iron clamps. The interior resembles a cavern,
owing to the absence of windows, the labyrinth of rooms not six feet
high, the gnarled, unbarked trees which support the roofs, the
dimness, the immense thickness of the mud walls, the rays of light
coming in through protected holes in the roof, the horses tethered to
the tree-trunks, and the smoke. The "living-room" is a small recess,
rendered smaller by a row of clay receptacles for grain as high as the
roof on one side, and a row of oil-jars, each large enough to hold a
man, on the other. A fire of animal fuel in a hole in the middle of
the floor emitted much pungent smoke and little heat. A number of
thick wadded quilts were arranged for me, and tea was served in
Russian glass cups from a Russian _samovar_.
The wife was handsome, and never in any country have I seen a more
beautiful girl than the daughter, who might have posed for a Madonna.
They told me that for the five months of winter the snow comes "as
high as the mouth," and that there is no egress from the village. The
men attend to the horses and stock, and the women weave carpets, but
much of the time is spent by both in sleep.