HAMADAN.
Start for Hamadan—Bedding—Luggage makes the man—Stages—Meet
Pierson—Istikhbals—Badraghah—Pierson’s house—Hamadan
wine—Mode of storing it—My horses—Abu Saif Mirza—His
stratagem—Disinterested services—Persian logic—Pierson’s
horse’s death—Horses put through their paces—I buy Salts and
Senna—The prince’s opinion—Money table—Edict.
A few days after the great festival Major S⸺, who was going down country,
kindly allowed me to accompany him as far as Hamadan. We started one
afternoon, doing the two first stages by sunset, and stopping at the
post-house at Karneabad.
The weather was fine, the roads and horses good. I had by this time
learnt to ride by balance only, and acquired the art of remaining in an
upright position on my steed whenever he suddenly dropped as if shot,
instead of going over his head by the force of momentum. The Major had
a few tinned provisions, which it had been impossible to get in a place
like Tiflis, and with a roast fowl or two our commissariat was well
provided. The intense cold was over, and I was glad to use my goggles
to protect my eyes during the middle of the day. We also never started
before the light was good, which made an immense difference in our
comfort.
I had invested in a native bridle, the severe bit of which enabled me
thoroughly to control my horses, and, being the one they were used to,
did not keep them in the perpetual state of fret that the European bit
did. My saddle-bags, too, were well packed and exactly the same weight,
so that I never had to get down to put them level, and they never annoyed
the horse.
I had my rugs, four in number, and the same size, sewn together down
one side and at the bottom, so that whichever side I might have to the
draught, and of this there is always plenty, I could have one blanket
under me, three over me, and the sewn edge to the wind, while, as the
bottom was sewn up, the blankets could never shift, and the open side
could be always kept to the wall. This arrangement, an original one, I
have never altered, for in hot weather, by lying on say three blankets,
one only was over me.
There is, however, one thing that I soon found out in travelling. To
thoroughly rest oneself it is needful to, firstly, undress and wear
a night-jacket and pyjamas; and, secondly, to sleep in a sheet. The
addition to one’s comfort is immense, particularly in warm weather, while
the extra weight of a sheet is not worth considering. An air pillow, too,
is a great luxury.
I have been in the habit of no longer using a waterproof sheet to keep my
blankets dry, but of rolling them tightly up, and then strapping them and
cramming them into an india-rubber soldier’s hold-all, which ensures a
dry bed, and straps handily to the saddle. This hold-all was the cause of
a rather amusing adventure.
On coming home once on leave, in a great hurry, I had left Persia
with only my hold-all, having given my saddle-bags and road kit to my
servant. I had come direct from Tzaritzin on the Volga to Boulogne
without stopping, but had to wait some hours on the tidal boat before she
started. I stepped on board and asked one of the men where the steward
was.
“Oh, he ain’t aboard yet, mate.”
“Can you get me a wash?”
“Come along a’ me, mate.” The man took me down to what seemed the
fo’cassel, and placed a bucket of water before me.
I said, “Come, is this the accommodation you give your first-class
passengers?”
The man roared with laughter.
“No yer doant, mate, no yer doant. I never seed no first-class passengers
with luggage like that,” pointing to my hold-all; and it was only on
producing my coupon book, that the man could be persuaded I was not a
deck passenger, and to take me to the saloon aft.
As I was covered with coal dust, and generally grimy—the opportunities
for washing being then not what they are now in Russia and Germany—the
hold-all had made the man sure that I was an impostor.
We came in the afternoon of the third day into Hamadan, having done the
stages in fair time. The journey was without incident, save that a string
of antelopes crossed the road in broad daylight some ten yards ahead of
us. As they appeared so suddenly, we neither of us thought of using our
revolvers. Hamadan looked pretty as we entered it, and was surrounded
by apparently interminable gardens. On turning a corner we came upon
Captain Pierson, under whom I was to serve, and of whose division I was
in medical charge. He had ridden out to meet us.
In the early days of the Persian Telegraph it was usual to ride out with
the departing, and to do the same to meet the coming guest.
This is the Persian custom of the “istikhbal,” or ceremonious riding out
to meet the new arrival; being a very important ceremony, regulated by
hard-and-fast rules: such as that the greater the personage, the further
must the welcomer travel; while the lesser the welcomer, the further must
he go. Thus, in the case of a new governor of Shiraz, the king’s son, the
big men rode out three stages, the ex-governor one, while some actually
went as far as Abadeh, or seven days’ journey; but these were mostly
merchants or small people.
Great fuss and parade is made, the condition of the incomer being denoted
by the grandeur of this “istikhbal,” or procession of welcome. In the
case of official personages, soldiers, both horse and foot, go out;
led-horses also are sent simply for show, splendidly caparisoned with
Cashmere shawls or embroidered housings on the saddles. And it is found
necessary, in the case of the arrival of ambassadors or envoys, such
as that of Sir F. Goldsmid (when on the duty of the definition of the
Seistan boundary), to stipulate that a _proper_ istikhbal shall be sent
out prior to the commissioners entering a large town.
There is another ceremony, that of the “badraghah,” or riding out with
the departing guest. This, however, is not so formal, and is less an act
of ceremony than one of friendship; however, it is a compliment that in
both cases is much appreciated, especially when shown by a European to a
native.
Latterly the Europeans have almost given up this riding out, which
practically is a great nuisance to those riding at an unusual or
uncomfortable time, _perhaps in the sun_, and when the arrival of the
guest is very uncertain; it is, too, very annoying, when tired with a
rapid chupper, and having ridden many hours on end, to be put on a very
lively horse, ready to jump out of his skin with condition, and to pull
one’s arms off.
As we had got in sooner than was expected, and were only some mile from
Pierson’s house, we did not change our horses for the fresh ones provided
by him, and after many turns and twists between high mud walls, we came
to the house, and here my travels ended for the time.
The courtyard was some twenty yards by thirty wide. A hauz or tank ran
the entire length, filled by a constant stream of running water, and on
either side of it was a long flower-bed sunk in the stone pavement, about
the same depth below it as the hauz was elevated above.
On a level with the ground in the basement were the cellars and servants’
quarters, and above this a platform ten feet from the ground, some four
yards broad, which extended the whole width of the courtyard. This was
covered by an enormous structure, consisting of a roof some six feet
thick, being painted wood mudded over a yard deep; and then under it a
hollow air-chamber, supported on three huge wooden octagonal columns,
likewise painted in red, blue, and yellow. Behind and beneath this talár,
or verandah, which was some thirty feet from floor to ceiling, was a
central room (orūssēe), elaborately painted and gilt in the vilest taste,
with a huge window (which could be kept wide open in hot weather) of
coloured glass, in small panes four inches by seven. This was the dining
and reception room.
On either side of this orūssēe, and having the talár still in front of
them, was a smaller apartment. One was Pierson’s bedroom, the other mine.
Thus in front of the three rooms was a covered platform, four yards by
twenty. On this during the summer, save when the sun was on it, we lived,
and when the sun was high the rooms were kept cool by the talár.
We soon sat down to a sumptuous dinner, and I tasted, for the first time,
Hamadan wine, of which I had heard many and different opinions. It was a
delicious pale, scented, straw-coloured wine, like a light hock; rather
too sweet, but apparently of no great strength. I soon found, however,
that in the latter idea I was much in error, for it was a wine that went
straight to the head, and remained there.
Delicious as it is, the fact of its newness—and it often will not
keep, a second summer generally turning it sour if in bottle—makes it
objectionable, for though it is light and delightful, especially when
iced, a headache surely follows even a third glass.
The natives, we found out in after years, are able to keep it in bulk,
and then the tendency to give an after headache goes away, but so does
the delicious flavour. In winter so cold is Hamadan, that the wine,
which is kept in huge jars holding two hundred maunds (or eight hundred
bottles), or even more, sunk half their depth in the ground, has to be
kept from freezing by making a hot-bed of fermenting horse-dung around
the upper part of these jars, and often these means fail; for I have
myself been present when blocks of frozen wine have been chopped out of
the jars for drinking; these plans of storing wine only refer to Hamadan:
in other Persian towns the wine, as soon as it is cleared, is placed in
carboys, holding from six to twenty-four bottles.
It is sold in Hamadan in baghallis, or native bottles, holding about a
pint and a half. They are of the very thinnest glass, and very fragile
_when empty_. One of these bottlefuls costs about fourpence—at least it
did when I was in Hamadan in 1869.
In a couple of days Major S⸺ left on his way to Baghdad, and Pierson
insisted on my remaining his guest, which I was only too glad to do, till
I could get servants, etc. of my own.
The first thing, however, was to buy a horse, as I could not draw my
horse allowance from Government till I had really a horse of my own, and
the three pounds a month was, considering the smallness of my pay, a
consideration. Of course at that time I knew nothing about horses, and
was fortunate in having the advice of Pierson. As soon as it was given
out that I wanted horses there was a permanent levée at our quarters of
all the owners of the lame, the halt and the blind, and their animals.
These men, however, were all sent to the right-about by Pierson, and at
last a dealer came with four likely young horses; these were examined and
pronounced sound. On their price being asked, one hundred tomans each was
demanded. I was disappointed, for this was exactly the sum (forty pounds)
that I was prepared to give for _two_ horses. But I was reassured by
Pierson, who made me understand that that was _always_ the price _asked_
for any beast worth having, and merely meant that the seller did not
mean to take less than one half the amount. I was told, too, that if one
wanted to buy a horse anywhere near its value _some weeks_ must be taken
in the negotiation. The matter ended in Pierson’s offering the dealer
fifty tomans for two of the animals, and the man leaving our courtyard
in simulated indignation, declining even to notice a bid so ridiculous.
However, as Pierson said we had not seen the last of him, I did not
despair.
Next morning, on coming out to breakfast, I saw our horse-dealer seated
with the servants, and as Pierson put it, “They are settling the amount
of commission they are each to get, and this commission they _will_ have;
ten per cent. is legitimate, more is robbery. So all we have to do is to
be very determined; if you can get any two of the four animals for your
limit you will do well, if not you must let them go.”
Pierson now sent for his head-man and told him that “I was to have two
serviceable horses for forty pounds, and that I should not pay a penny
more; so, as he knew the amount of modakel (profit) he and the rest of
the servants could make, he had better do the best he could for me, and
that _he_ (Pierson) would see that I was not done as to quality.” The man
cast up his eyes and retired.
While we were at breakfast a poor prince, Abu Saif Mirza, came, and
was invited to partake. Pierson told me that he was a very good fellow
indeed, and a grandson of Futteh-Ali Shah,[7] a former Shah of Persia,
but from the irregularity with which his very small pension was paid, he
had to live almost by his gun, and chance meals, such as the present.
Of course I could not understand what he said, but he fully entered into
the difficulty as to finding me a horse. And as _in Persia nothing can be
done without stratagem_, he suggested on the spot a means for bringing
the dealer to his senses; it was deep, “deep as the deep blue sea.” It
was simply this: he would exhibit his horse to Pierson and promise to
send it for trial to-morrow, naming a price just about its value, and
“then you will see all will be well.”
No sooner was breakfast over than the prince’s horse was brought into the
courtyard, stripped and examined, and the suggested arrangement made.
As it happened I afterwards bought this very horse for Pierson to make a
wedding present of, but he would have been more than I could manage at
the time, being a spirited beast and a puller. The Shahzadeh (prince)
took his departure, promising loudly to send his horse round in the
morning.
No sooner was he gone than the nazir, or head-servant, presented himself
and delivered to Pierson an oration somewhat of this sort. “May I
represent to the service of the sahib, that it would be very unwise to
purchase the horse of the prince? he is not young” (he was five years
old), “he is gone in the wind” (he was quite sound), “and his temper is
awful; besides this I have reason to know that he is worthless in every
respect” (he was one of the best horses I ever saw, and I knew him for
ten years). “Of course to me it would make a great difference, for the
prince has indeed offered me a handsome commission” (quite untrue),
“while from this poor dealer not a farthing can be wrung by the servants.
No! he would rather die than pay one farthing. So though the other
servants are loath to let a sale take place to my sahib’s friend, yet I,
as an old servant, and looking for a reward from my sahib for conduct so
disinterested, have after infinite trouble got the dealer to consent to a
hundred and fifty tomans for any two of his four horses.”
“Be off,” was the laconic reply of Pierson. “When we ride to-day, if the
dealer will sell for my price, let the horses be ready and I will see
them and ride them; if not he can go.”
The man sighed and replied: “Ah, I see, sahib, the prince has laughed at
your beard, and persuaded you to buy his worthless brute. I can’t offer
such terms to a respectable man like the dealer, but I will give the
message.”
I now saw the horse-dealer leave the courtyard with the air of an injured
man, and I feared I was as far off a purchase as ever. But Pierson
reassured me. I had plagued him to sell me one of his own large stud
which he wished to reduce, but he declined with a smile, saying he never
sold a horse to a friend unless he was a thorough judge, and that as I
knew nothing about horses he must decline, as I might repent when too
late; and though I pressed him a good deal, he would not relent. Few
men would have lost an opportunity to get rid of beasts they did not
require, but Pierson was a man in a thousand.
At that time he had eight horses in his stable, all good and all sound.
He had named them after heathen gods, Jupiter, Pluto, Saturn, Cupid,
Hercules, etc. But his pet nag, Apollo—a grey he had given one hundred
and twenty tomans, or fifty pounds, for, an enormous price in those
days in Persia—had a few weeks before caught his foot in a hole while
galloping over turf; horse and man came down with a crash; Pierson was
insensible; and when he came to himself he found, some four yards off,
his favourite lying dead with his neck broken.
He rode away on his groom’s horse, the man carrying his saddle and
bridle. On getting to the house he sent a gang to bury the poor beast,
but too late, for the villagers had taken off the skin and tail. Pierson
on telling me the story did it so pathetically, that he left off with wet
eyes, and I felt inclined to sob myself.
As we got ready for the afternoon ride, the horse-dealer and his four
horses appeared, and with a sigh he informed Pierson that he accepted
the terms, or nearly so. On getting out of the town the horses were
put through their paces. They were a big grey, with enormous mane and
tail, of not much breed, but in dealer’s condition, and a well-shaped
and strong-looking beast; an iron-grey, who plunged and shied and
was generally vicious, but really the most valuable of the four; a
fourteen-hand pure-bred Arab, with a huge scar of a spear-wound a foot
long on his shoulder, otherwise perfect, of angelic temper, but small
by the side of the Persian horses, as all Arabs are; his muzzle almost
touched his chest as he arched his neck, and his action was very high,
yet easy; he seemed an aristocrat compared to the rest; his thin and fine
mane and tail were like silk—he, too, was five. A big, coarse, raking
chestnut, that took all the boy who rode him could do to hold him, rising
four, completed the list.
Pierson kindly rode them all, and with considerable fear I did the same,
save the lively grey, which I wisely acknowledged to be too much for me.
The big chestnut bolted with me, but I stuck on. The other chestnut was
all I could wish, fast, paces good, no tricks, willing—but, then, the
scar. I did not wish to buy him on that account, but Pierson over-ruled
me, and I took his advice; he told me that in Persia a scar was nothing,
that I could ride the horse in comfort and safety, as he had no vices,
and that whenever I wished to sell I should lose very little. The raking
chestnut, as a young horse, Pierson told me was a speculation; he might
turn out well, he might not. And the grey—well, all I could get out of
Pierson was, that “he had a fine mane and tail,” which he certainly had,
and that “he was value, or nearly.” He was not a well-bred animal, and I
liked him, I fear, on account of the mane and tail; but he pulled. All
were entire horses.
Pierson wouldn’t let me buy the iron-grey, had I wanted to, as he said he
was dangerous, even to a good rider.
So the matter ended in my taking the chestnut for five hundred and fifty
kerans and the grey for six hundred and fifty. Pierson said the prices
ought to have been reversed. He was right. I had that chestnut Arab
ten years; he never was sick or sorry, and I never had to strike or
spur him; a pressure of the knee and a shake of the rein would make him
do his utmost. And he was a fast horse; small as he was he carried my
twelve stone comfortably, and as a ladies’ horse he was perfect, having a
beautiful mouth, while he followed like a dog, and nothing startled him
or made him shy. In the stable he was quiet, save to a new-comer, on whom
he always left his mark by a bite on the neck, and then, having asserted
his position, which was afterwards never disputed, he was always friendly
to stable companions. He never kicked. I gave him away at last, when I
left Persia on leave.
Next morning the “poor prince” called and looked over my purchases; he
approved the chestnut, but shook his head at the grey, saying he had
“ableh,” or leprosy, and that in time he would break down, pine, and die.
The only sign he had was a pink patch the size of a fourpenny-piece on
his black muzzle. “Give him back,” said the Prince.
“I can’t see anything wrong,” said Pierson. _His mane and tail decided
me._ I stuck to him, christening him “Salts”—the chestnut I called
“Senna.”
The custom in Persia is that, until a horse has been three nights _fed_
in the stable of a new master (unless specially stipulated to the
contrary before witnesses of respectability, or in writing) he may be
returned without giving any reason whatever, simply on the purchaser
repenting his bargain; this is often taken advantage of by the buyer
to return the animal in order to lower his price; the manœuvre seldom
succeeds, as the seller is prepared for it.
The European, if awake to his own interest, generally spends the three
days in giving the beast a good “bucketting” over ploughed land, when, if
there be any hidden defect, it comes out, and the animal can be returned.
We did this, but no fault showing itself, I paid my one hundred and
twenty tomans[8] (forty-eight pounds) and concluded the purchase.