ISPAHAN AND ITS ENVIRONS.
Pig-sticking expedition—Ducks not tame, but wild—Ruined
mosque with tile inscription—Ancient watch-towers—The
hunting-ground—Beaters—We sight the pig—Our first victims—The
bold Gholam—Our success—Pig’s flesh—A present of pork—How
Persians can be managed—Opium—Adulteration—Collection
and preparation—Packing—Manœuvres of the native
maker—Opium-eating—Moderate use by aged Persians—My dispensary
over the prison—I shift my quarters—Practice in the bazaar—An
ungrateful baker—Sealing in lieu of signing—Seals—Wisdom of a
village judge.
On the arrival of Captain Chambers, our new assistant-superintendent
in Ispahan, he determined to get up a pig-sticking expedition, a thing
hitherto unknown in Persia.
The only man among us who had enjoyed that sport before was Captain
Chambers himself, and he had brought with him from India a little armoury
of spears; the shafts of these were bamboo, and the heads, keen as
razors, were protected by small leather cases.
With some trouble we got one of these heads copied in the bazaar; and
Captain Chambers, three of the sergeants, and I started for Ruhdesht,
where we were assured we should find plenty of sport.
We took with us two subalterns’ tents—Captain Chambers and I occupied
one, the other was used by the sergeants.
On our way we came to a little mosque all by itself in the open plain,
some twelve miles from the town; in front of it was a large pond, on
which were peacefully swimming some thousands of ducks. We supposed
that they were tame, and belonged to the mosque, but on a stone being
thrown among them, they all flew away, to our great surprise, showing
unmistakably that they were wild ones.
After a wandering march of eleven farsakhs, we found the particular
village in Ruhdesht, to which we had been recommended, for, as we found,
Ruhdesht was not a village but a district.
We passed many ruins, one of which was a large mud-brick mosque in very
good preservation. On the inside was a band of tile-work some twenty
feet from the ground, which was four feet wide, and bore a beautiful
inscription in interlaced Arabic letters a yard high—the letters were
white on a blue ground; it was quite perfect, the height from the ground
and its lonely position having protected it from villagers. We also saw
several “mil,” or hollow columns; these appeared to have been used as
watch-towers, and not as places from which the call to prayers was made,
as they were frequently a long distance from the mosques.
We gladly halted, having marched continuously from two P.M. till dawn,
and having gone off the track, mules, tents, and all. We took a day’s
rest for the horses and to arrange operations. We found that a small
river close to the village was swarming with pig, and it was in the low
shrubs and jungle near the banks that the animals lived in the day, only
coming out on the open plain when driven, or at night. The cover lay on
each side of the river for a quarter of a mile in depth; it was very
dense and full of holes. As we had provided ourselves with a “hukm,”
or order, from the Governor of Ispahan, we had no difficulty in hiring
sixty beaters at sixpence each, and this number was swelled by as many
volunteers; as the pigs did much damage to the crops, the villagers were
only too glad to assist in the hunt.
The cover was not so dense as it would be later on, it being early
spring, and the bushes as yet not in leaf. Having made all the needful
arrangements, Captain Chambers, as the Nestor of the party, took command
of the beaters, and sent the whole of them in to beat up the river
bank, while we were posted at intervals of fifty yards, with strict
instructions to attack the boars only, which were carefully described to
us. The beaters were accompanied by many of our servants who wished to
enjoy the “tamasha” (show), and all the dogs.
While we sat anxiously watching the edge of the jungle, the beaters
gradually approaching us, a pig broke cover. Regardless of the shouts of
Chambers, who implored us to let him get well out on the open and so give
a run, all of us raced at him; of course he re-entered the cover, and
was no more seen.
Then out came a sow and seven squeakers, each about eight pounds. This
was too much for our equanimity, and though we had promised to carefully
obey orders, the frantic cries of Chambers of “ware sow” could not
restrain us; we repeatedly charged the sow, and it was a good way of
learning, for she got away untouched; all our horses were blown, and as
men charged her from different directions at the same time, it was a
mercy that there was no accident. Our horses, all much too fresh, now
became more manageable. We really did succeed in spearing two young
boars, neither of which showed any fight, being ignominiously pursued and
prodded to death.
But a third and more matured animal was now put up, and we carefully
allowed him to get well into the open. Here science was served, for
Chambers got first spear easily by good riding; the boar turned each time
he was struck, and after having been speared some seven times sat down on
his haunches with two spears in him, which some of the inexperienced had
let go.
The animal was evidently badly wounded, and it was a mere question of
time; but though our horses would pursue him when running, none would
come within striking distance now he was stationary, and he certainly did
not present a very pleasing appearance; and though we rushed them at him,
they swerved and shied.
One of the Persian “Gholams,” or line-guards, now asked to be allowed to
cut the boar’s head off; permission was given, and the man dismounted,
drew his curved sword, made a tremendous chop on the pig’s head, which
did not seem to wound but revive him, breaking the short sword off at the
hilt.
The animal now pursued the shrieking gholam for some distance, but a few
more stabs with the spears finished him, then he was triumphantly borne
away by the villagers.
The dogs caught three young pigs, and we returned to camp tired out. In
the party of five there had been seven spills. I had two; on one occasion
I was knocked over, horse and all, by another man coming up diagonally
without warning and striking me sideways, and as he was the heavier,
over we went. My second was when pursuing a pig; my horse slid down a dry
ditch, and, on trying to get up the other side, rolled over me.
But no one was hurt, which is a wonder, considering that it was the
first time we had carried spears, and they were all eight feet long, and
sharp. As we could get no bamboo, we had had the shafts made of chenar
or plane-wood; these were heavy but strong; the few made of poplar were
light, but all of them broke at or near the head. I fancy that for good
sport the ground should have been better; our ground was very open, but
deep dry ditches to horses who do not jump are serious matters. We had
a good dinner when we got home to the tents, and some tried to eat the
pig’s meat, but even the young pig’s flesh was blackish, and tough as
india-rubber.
Eating wild pig’s flesh, considering what they will eat, is a disgusting
idea; and I quite agree with the action of Captain S⸺ when a dead pig was
sent him by the Governor of Shiraz _as a present_.
The pig was dragged to the door by the servants of the farrash-bashi
(head carpet-spreader), a high official, and followed by a shouting mob,
and a verbal message came that a pig was sent as a present. S⸺ happened
to be out, but on his return he wrote a polite note to the Governor
telling him that the English did not, as he had erroneously supposed, eat
wild pig, but looked on it as an unclean animal; and requesting that the
person who brought it might remove it.
It was ordered to be done, but the farrash-bashi sent some Jews to drag
it away. This S⸺ would not allow, but insisted that the farrash-bashi
himself should come and take it away; he had to do so, and doubtless
thought it not quite so good a joke as the bringing, for the shouting
crowd _now laughed at_ him instead of _with_ him.
We had a second day very similar to our first, fortunately no accidents
and fewer spills. We then returned as we came; the greater part of the
way was near the river banks, and as we were all very tired, also our
horses, we were only too glad to get in by sunset.
I had now an opportunity of seeing the preparation of opium for the
English and China markets.
A partner of the principal mercantile firm established in the Persian
Gulf came to Ispahan to examine the branch of their business there and
test the value of the trade.
The great difficulty with Persian opium is to obtain it of sufficient
purity; the Persian opium is always very deficient in morphia, and upon
the percentage of morphia by analysis the value of the drug is determined
in London.
As opium when bought in the country has to be taken in small quantities
and purchased blindfold, or rather on the opinion of judges, whose fiat
is possibly _influenced_, the whole business is risky in the extreme.
The ryot adds all sorts of abominations to the fresh opium, to increase
the weight, as the pulp of apples, grape sugar, etc., and a further
adulteration is generally practised by Armenian middlemen. The system
generally adopted by the respectable merchant is to buy direct of the
ryot, if possible; even to go so far at times, if the farmer be a
substantial man, as to make him advances against his future opium crop.
Having purchased the opium, the merchant pours it into large copper pots,
some of which may contain a quarter of a ton of opium. He then proceeds
to the “teriak-mali,” or preparation, literally opium-rubbing. Having
engaged skilled workmen headed by a “reis” or “boss,” he contracts to pay
these men so much per chest, or by daily wages; and then, if the weather
be cold, the semi-liquid contents of the pots are simmered over a very
slow charcoal fire. The more solid portions being previously removed,
when the “sherbet” or juice has become pretty thick, it is mixed again
with the original more solid portion and the whole beaten up; it is, of
course, frequently weighed to prevent thefts. Now commences the regular
“teriak-mali;” weighed portions, from half a pound to one pound, as may
be found convenient, are smeared upon thin planks with a wooden spreader
or spatula.
It is first spread perpendicularly, then horizontally, just as in old
days medical men used to spread a blister; it is done with great rapidity
and exactness. As each plank is covered it is placed on end in the strong
sun, and when sufficiently dry, scraped off for rolling into cakes. If
the opium be very moist, or the sun weak, this has to be done many times.
The washings of the pots and utensils are carefully boiled down that
nothing may be lost, and after many weighings and much manipulation, the
opium, in theory absolutely pure, is made into pound cakes, generally
the shape and appearance of a squared penny bun of large size, each
weighing exactly one pound. The cakes are varnished with some of the
liquor or a composition, having in the case where I was present been
stamped with a seal bearing the name of the makers.
Each cake, after it is thoroughly dry, is wrapped in a sheet of clean
paper, folded as a neat parcel and packed in chests. The tax on each
chest is heavy, and as the duty is levied per chest and not per pound, a
small profit may be made by having light cases and making them hold, by
careful packing, a little more. The cases are marked, sewn up in hides,
or, still better, dammered, _i. e._ packed in tarpaulin.
The preparation is an anxious time, as the workpeople will steal the
opium if they can, and it is very portable. Opium is also made up with
oil in masses for the Chinese market and in round cakes packed in poppy
refuse to simulate Turkish, but this manœuvre is not adopted by the
English firm, who attempt by great care in the manipulation, and by only
buying of the respectable among the farmers, to prevent anything but pure
Persian opium being sold under their brand.
Of course the smaller native makers try every means in their power
to increase the weight by fraudulent additions—starch even has been
employed—but these specimens often betray their admixture by a peculiar
appearance or fracture, and defeat their object—often indeed bearing
their own punishment by being unsaleable, save at a loss. At the time I
saw the manufacture, Persian opium of the best quality was selling in
London at sixteen shillings a pound.
Large quantities of opium are consumed in the country. Almost
three-fourths of the aged, of both sexes, are in the habit of taking from
half a grain upwards, three times a day. And I am unable to state that
the moderate use of opium by the aged or those travelling is attended
with any ill effects. Of course the abuse of opium is well known for its
terrible results.
The “teriakdan,” or opium pill-box, is in as common use in Persia as
the snuff-box was in England. The pills are usually about one grain in
weight, and mostly contain spices to the extent of one half. But I have
occasionally seen pills of five grains in weight of purest opium—indeed,
one of my patients, who was an opium-eater, used to take seven such
pills in the twenty-four hours!
The Prince-Governor kindly placed at my disposal the rooms in the town
that had been previously occupied by Dr. Pollak, the king’s physician,
as a dispensary, and I saw many patients among the very poor there; but
as these rooms were over the public prison, of course no respectable
people, particularly women, would come. So after some months I engaged
rooms looking into the great bazaar over the door of the principal
caravanserai, the caravanserai Mokhliss. Here for two tomans (eighteen
shillings) a month I had three handsome rooms, a servant’s room, and a
kitchen; and three times a week I saw patients. As a rule the attendance
was gratuitous, though some few of the wealthier paid a fee.
A curious instance of Persian would-be smartness was shown here. A baker
in the neighbourhood had suffered from cataract, and had come to me
for relief. I had been happily successful, and to my satisfaction had
restored sight to both eyes. For this I was rewarded with the sum of
four pounds, and as the man was a thriving tradesman and well to do, _I_
thought him the obliged party; but _he_ regretted the four pounds.
One day, as I was sitting in the dispensary surrounded by a crowd of
sick and their friends and relatives, a melancholy procession entered
the room. The baker, with a rag of a different colour over each eye, and
a huge white bandage round his head, was led, or rather supported, into
the apartment; and on my expressing astonishment, his relatives informed
me that his sight was quite gone through my unfortunate treatment; and
that he had come to get his four pounds back, and any compensation for
the loss of his eyes that I might be pleased to make would be thankfully
accepted.
“Ah, sahib, dear sahib, I am now _stone_ blind,” he said.
Here with extended arms he advanced to my table, and the assembled crowd
shook their heads. I had some difficulty in getting him to remove his
many bandages; but on looking at his eyes I saw that his vision, as I had
supposed, was extremely good. I naturally was very angry, for, letting
the ingratitude of the man alone, I did not care to be robbed of the
credit of a cure in so public a manner. I did not take long to decide
what to do. Among some antiquated instruments that had accumulated in
the dispensary was a large amputating knife in a leather box. I got this
box from the cupboard and placed it before me. Taking my seat, with the
man on the other side of my table, I addressed him:—
“Of course, if I have deprived you of your sight, it is only fair that I
should remunerate you and return you the money you have paid me.”
A beatific smile spread over his face.
“Ah, sahib, I know you are a great and generous sahib. I am sure you
would not wrong a poor Mussulman. Oh, sahib, I want nothing but justice.”
“And what, my friend, do you consider justice?”
“Oh, sahib, doctor sahib, if you would refund the four pounds that I paid
you, and give me, say forty pounds, even less, for my eyes, I should pray
for you—yes, I and my family, we should all pray for you.”
Here the supporters and family chimed in, “Yes, yes, he has spoken
well,” and the crowd of interested patients and their friends whispered
approbation.
I noticed, too, that my servant seemed trying to attract my attention,
and to dissuade me from a course he thought just, perhaps, but too
generous.
“Yes,” said I, “this is what ought to be done, there is no denying it, in
the case you describe. But”—and here I began to shout—“but what should
be done to the man who comes here with a lie in his mouth? Know you,
bystanders, that this man is a liar; he sees perfectly!”
Here the patient shook off his supporters, and grasped my table, turning
pale.
“Ah,” I shouted, “you dog, I will enlighten your eyes,” and, opening
suddenly the morocco case, I produced the huge glittering old amputating
knife, and brandished it in his face. Without a word he nimbly turned and
fled down my staircase, pursued by my servants, the two sentries, and the
more active of my patients’ friends.
“Stop, thief!” I shouted from my open window; “stop, thief!”
This resounded along the crowded bazaar. Every idler took up the cry;
every hand and every stick was turned on the flying man. In an instant he
was secured, his clothes torn to rags by the seething mob in the bazaar.
I shouted to him from the open window, and sarcastically asked him if he
was blind or not.
“Oh, sahib, sahib, through your kindness I see, indeed I do.”
But I was not satisfied with this, and sent him, under guard of my
servant and the two sentries, to the high priest, who registered his
confession of attempted imposture, and drew up a _procès verbal_, to
which he affixed his seal. It is an ill wind that blows no one any good,
and the matter was for several days the talk of the town, and increased
my practice for the time.
When I say that the high priest “affixed his seal,” I may explain that
sealing is always used in lieu of signing. When a Persian writes a
letter, he affixes his seal by dipping his finger against the sponge-like
ball of silk, that is full of Indian ink, in his inkstand, and, rubbing a
small quantity upon the seal, gives a lick with his tongue to the paper
to render it moist and supple, waves it in the air to get rid of excess
of moisture, breathes on his seal, and presses it firmly against the
paper held over the forefinger of the left hand, which acts as a pad. A
very clear impression is thus produced.
Merchants and officials generally have several seals, one for familiar
communications, having simply the man’s name, as “Hassan son of
Houssein;” the next perhaps for sealing cheques or receipts; and a third
for official documents, of larger size, with all his titles on it. He
may even have several other secret or private seals. They are generally
beautifully cut on agate or cornelian. Teheran produces the best
seal-cutters, and the price for engraving is from one farthing to one
pound a letter. Common seals are cut on brass or silver. The rich Turks
of Stamboul have their seals cut in Teheran.
A curious story is told among Persians of the wisdom of a certain cazi
or magistrate. The story is a well-known one. A woman was claimed by two
men as wife; one a peasant, the other a mirza or scribe. The two men each
swore to the truth of his claim. The woman was silent. The cazi, failing
to get any corroborative evidence, ordered the woman to remain for a time
with his own wives, and next day handed her over to the mirza, ordering
the peasant to be severely beaten. Then the woman broke silence for the
first time, and praised the just judge. The lookers-on applauded the
justice of the cazi, but failed to see the grounds for the verdict.
Said the cazi: “I told her to milk a cow, and she could not. I knew then
she could be no peasant’s wife. Then handing her my writing-case, I told
her to put it in order. She took the little silver spoon, and replenished
my inkstand with water. Only the wife of a man who could write could have
done this correctly. Hence my verdict.”