SHIRAZ AND FUSSA.
Cheapness of ice—Variety of ices—Their size—Mode of procuring
ice—Water of Shiraz: its impurity—Camel-fight—Mode of
obtaining the combatants—Mode of securing camels—Visit to
Fussa—Mean-looking nag—His powers—See the patient—State
of the sick-room—Dinner sent away—A second one arrives—A
would-be room-fellow—I provide him with a bedroom—Progress
of the case—Fertility of Fussa—Salt Lake—End of the
patient—Boat-building—Dog-cart—Want of roads—Tarantulas—Suicide
of scorpions—Varieties—Experiment—Stings of scorpions—The
nishan.
A great thing in such a warm place as Shiraz is the cheapness of ice; for
about fifteen shillings in dear years and five in cheap ones, ice can
be obtained, all through the warm weather, and in fact is used from May
to October, as no one would think of drinking anything uncooled. A huge
block is thrown down in one’s doorway each morning by the ice-seller; it
is supposed to weigh two Tabriz maunds, or fourteen pounds.
The Persians well understand the art of making water-ices and ice-creams,
and various ices unknown to us are made by them, as tamarind juice,
pomegranate and cherry-water ices; iced “mast,” or curdled milk, and
various ices of pounded fruits, as apricots and cherries, which are very
good.
Ices, however, are served with them on a more lavish scale, and a larger
quantity eaten, than with us. When I accompanied Captain St. J⸺ in a call
he made upon the Muschir, four conical ices, the size and shape of an
_ordinary_ sugar-loaf, were placed in handsome Chinese porcelain basins
before each of us. In fact the cheapness of provisions generally causes
among the well-to-do a lavishness and profusion (not to call it waste)
unknown in Europe.
The Muschir has a “yakhjal,” or place for the making and collecting and
storing ice, in an open plain some six miles from the town at the side
of the Ispahan road. The earth is dug out to a depth of two feet; with
this earth a mud wall some twenty feet high is constructed of sun-dried
bricks. The excavation is some ten yards by one hundred, and the wall
is ten yards high by a hundred long; this wall runs in such a way as to
protect the open pond thus excavated, from the hottest rays of the sun.
The delicious Ab-i-Rookhni (“stream of Rookhnabad”) is diverted from its
course during the first cold night. A few inches of still clear water
is collected in the pond, by morning it is frozen; at night the water
is again admitted, and another inch or two of ice made. When three to
six inches thick, the ice is broken and collected for storage in a deep
well on the spot: and so day by day the process goes on during the short
winter until the storehouses are full. Should the supplies from these
be exhausted by a very large demand, ice, or rather blocks of snow, are
brought from the mountains; but as these are some distance, and as snow
melts much faster than ice, the weights being equal, the price rises.
An order is generally issued when the ice is running short that each
house is to be on half allowance—a wise measure, as it makes the cooks
careful, and so everybody gets some.
So common is the use of ice that the poorest are enabled to have it,
a big bit being sold for a farthing, and even the bowls of water for
gratuitous drinking at the shop doors are cooled by it. Ripe fruit is
generally also cooled prior to being eaten.
The water of Shiraz itself—unless that of Rookhni or Zangi, another
mountain spring, which has to be brought from a distance—is almost
poisonous, being much contaminated by surface drainage, etc. The
Mussulman world has a horrible idea that _a certain body_ of water,
however great the quantity, or disgusting the nature, of the filth poured
into it, remains absolutely pure, and the result is that a great deal of
serious illness is produced; this is one of the reasons why cholera is
so very severe in the East, irrespective of the natural action of the
climate. I can only say that I was obliged, while in Shiraz, never to
drink water save when from the two springs, or in the form of tea, when
it was of course boiled; one glass of sherbet or one tumbler of water
making me ill.
My friend the British Agent, Mirza Hassan Ali Khan, C.S.I., used always
to send a servant to the Rookhni stream, but the fellow used, I fancy,
to fill his water-skins, which were carried on a mule, elsewhere, for
although Rookhni water tastes of the wild sage that grows on its banks,
and my friend the agent thus had as he fancied an infallible means of
knowing it, yet I think the wily water-bearer was capable of having a
stock of sage leaves with which he would flavour the water got from the
town stream, along the edges of which sat all the laundresses of Shiraz
washing (in it) their foul linen.
I met the Prince-Governor one day on horseback, and he asked me if I had
ever seen a camel fight. I replied that I had not; he told me to ride on
with him and he would show me sport, as he was going to amuse himself
with one. We rode to the back of the royal garden, or “Bagh-i-No” (new
garden); here are always encamped hundreds of mules and camels. No sooner
did the prince arrive than the camel-men attempted to run away, but the
farrashes with their long sticks and a few horsemen soon brought them
back.
The prince ordered them to bring two male camels (in a state of
_must_[21]). At this they wept and tore their hair, for they did not
wish their property to be destroyed or depreciated for the amusement of
the young shah-zadeh. However, there was no escape; the courtiers soon
pointed out two huge males secured apart from the rest of the animals,
and from their continued groanings and roarings evidently in a state of
_must_.
By the prince’s orders these were let loose; they “went for each other”
at once. At first they danced round one another in a lumbering way; then
what appeared like a huge bladder was projected from their mouths: they
then knelt before each other, and a sort of fencing match took place; the
ordinarily quiet, patient faces of the beasts were changed into ones of
savage fury; the mouths widely open, and the retracted upper lips showed
the white teeth; and from the open mouths came quantities of foam. The
long supple necks were interlaced, and quickly darted from side to side,
while now and then the open savage mouths would be locked together. The
object was to seize either the throat or leg. The feints and meeting
of the mouths lasted some few minutes, accompanied by loud groans and
roarings of extraordinary fierceness. At length one beast, the paler
one, seized his adversary by the foot; while the other, a handsome,
long-haired animal, only got hold of his opponent’s ear. Blood flowed
freely, and the poor camel-men, who wanted to separate the animals,
were much beaten by the attendants. At last the dark long-haired animal
left go, and roared with agony; the victor commenced to drag him about
by the bitten foot. After some pressure the prince allowed them to be
separated. An awful wound was apparent on the foot of the dark camel,
and the efforts of some eight men with bludgeons, ropes, and chains were
required to restrain the victor from pursuing his advantage, while the
vanquished limped off with his weeping master, roaring with mingled rage
and pain. The prince, ordering ten tomans to be given to the camel-men
(poor fellows! I doubt if anything ever reached them), rode off.
Camels are mostly not vicious, save when _must_. They can kill a man with
a kick; and when they bite, worry; _and they generally bite the piece
out_. They are usually tethered apart when in this state, which soon
passes off, and secured by bending one or even both fore-feet, and tying
the leg in this position, which renders them powerless. This is the same
principle as that adopted by Rarey the horse-tamer.
About this time I was requested to go at once to Fussa—this place is
some ninety miles from Shiraz—where the Governor of the province (that
of Fussa) lay ill. I obtained leave of absence for a week, and made an
arrangement to go in one day and night, return in another twenty-four
hours, and have five days’ attendance on my patient.
The Muschir, to whose daughter Mirza Ali Akbar the _Khan Wakeel_, as he
was called, was married, was anxious that I should start at once, and
gave me a handsome fee. I agreed that I was while at Fussa to be the
guest of my patient, and that he was to find me in food and house-room;
and this was an important stipulation, as in a place where a European
had possibly never been seen, it might have been difficult to get a
comfortable lodging or even food.
Two wild-looking horsemen and a servant of the British Agent presented
themselves, with a little bay pony of dolorous aspect in a halter for
my riding. I, knowing that no horses were laid out, asked with scorn
how the small pony could possibly carry me ninety miles in twenty-four
hours, which I had stipulated for; but all three men assured me that
I should certainly arrive, myself and saddle-bags, in the time on the
little animal. I confess that I disbelieved them, but we started off
at a smart canter, and we cantered for ten hours with short breaks of
ambling. We got to a village two hours after midnight, slept for four
hours, and arrived in Fussa at four, doing the journey under the time;
the small bay seemingly not at all distressed, and prepared to go back
to Shiraz at once at the same rate if desired. I was then surprised; I
know that any one of my own well-fed big horses would have knocked up.
But these little animals, used to the _severest continuous work_, do it
in the most extraordinary manner. I am a big, heavy man; my saddle was a
heavy English hussar saddle, and my bags and bedding certainly weighed
forty pounds or more. Of course the beast I rode was a good one of his
kind, and probably a very good one, for when I left, the Governor of
Fussa declined to part with him even at a fancy price of three times his
apparent value.
We rode up to the door of the Governor, whom I found propped up with
pillows in a corner of the room, a huge, fat man about thirty-eight, who
was a general debauchee, opium-eater, wine and spirit drinker, and bhang
smoker. He was suffering from gout.
An aged Syud, with a long beard and blue turban, was in attendance
from Shiraz as his physician. The Governor himself was a strikingly
good-tempered, even jovial man, and between the paroxysms of his gout,
joked and talked. The village, or rather district, magnates sat round him
chiming in with all his observations, and trying to soothe his pains.
They were, master and retainers, the fattest set of men I ever saw
collected in one room. A long description of the patient’s ills ensued,
many pipes of peculiar construction were smoked, and I was offered
a _tumblerful_ of strong spirit as a matter of course, considerable
surprise being expressed at my refusing it.
Tea was continually handed round, which everybody, including the patient,
swallowed; a native bottle was frequently produced from under his pillow
from which he partook of copious draughts of pure spirit, taken from a
silver bowl holding half a pint: _this was emptied frequently_. Every
two hours my patient swallowed a _bolus_ of opium. Though we were in
the middle of summer, some thirty to fifty people were always in the
room, and every window was shut and curtained; thus a semi-darkness was
produced. Smoke from innumerable pipes filled the air, while the heat
was rendered greater by a huge samovar, in which water for tea-making
bubbled. The temperature was ninety degrees _out of doors at five_ P.M.
The chatter of conversation was continuous, and four musicians strove to
drive dull care away by playing loudly in a corner. I found my patient
had just had an attack of _delirium tremens_, and was going the right way
for another.
At seven, after having prescribed for him, I escaped to my quarters
under the pretext of dining, and lay down to rest. At nine my servant
informed me that my dinner was about to be served; and a large circular
tray, having some six dishes on it, with bread and all et cæteras, a huge
bowl of iced sherbet and a bottle of wine, was brought in. I was very
hungry and anxious to fall to, and I felt a sense of anguish, when, to my
astonishment, my servant (whom I had brought from Shiraz), assuming the
part of the Governor of Barataria’s physician, ordered the whole away in
an indignant voice.
As soon as my dinner had disappeared, I demanded an explanation of my
man. It was this: “I know, sahib, that the dinner I sent away was quite
enough for the sahib, and a good dinner, but here in Persia a man’s
position is reckoned by the _quantity_ of the dinner sent him, and the
_number_ of _plats_. They have sent you six _plats_. I have told them
that you couldn’t think of dining on less than eighteen; and if I allowed
you to eat the dinner that was sent, good as it was, you would be looked
down on. Are you less than the prince’s physician? Certainly not. They
would send _him_, or rather _he_ would demand, at least twelve _plats_. I
assure you I am acting in your interest.”
I suppose the fellow was right. Dinner for at least twenty-four persons
was brought on three huge trays. I tasted some half-dozen well-cooked
dishes, and then my servant removed the rest, and I observed him, with
the master of the house and numerous hangers-on, dining in the open air
on the very copious dinner that remained. The man was right. Such are
some of the ways a Persian has of keeping up his consequence.
About ten P.M. I went, a few doors off, to the house of my patient
the Governor. The same stifling room, the same hard drinking, only
now _everybody_ was drinking. Dancing-boys and singers, shrieking the
noisy love-songs of Persia in chorus, were _keeping up the spirits of
my patient_. To the few who were not drinking wines or spirits, tea was
continually handed. Long conversations on the topic of the patient’s
illness took place, and on local politics. Wearily, at two A.M., on the
ground that my patient _must_ try to sleep, I succeeded in getting away.
I was accompanied home by a big man with a jet black beard, a Khan who
was one of the Muschir’s retainers, and a polite fellow. What was my
disgust to find his bedding spread in my little room. I told my man to
bring him my water-pipe to smoke, and then I remonstrated. I said it was
not a “Feringhi” custom to sleep in a room with strangers. But the Khan
said it was late, that there were no other quarters, and commenced to
disrobe. “If you must have a separate room, take that,” said he, pointing
to two heavy doors at the end of the apartment.
I opened them, and found a small room, windowless, in which apparently
charcoal had been stored. Impossible for _me_ to sleep there; but,
thought I, “these are really _my_ quarters, why shouldn’t the Khan sleep
there? _he_ is the intruder.” I pretended to collect my bedding.
“You are never going in there!” said he.
“Why not?” I replied. “Look, look! the huge scorpion!” I shouted. He
jumped up, seized a stick, and ran into the charcoal cupboard, for it was
nothing more.
“Where?” said he.
“There! there!” said I.
He was well inside—to slam and secure the heavy doors was the work
of a moment. He shouted and swore, kicking at the door, but it was a
very strong one, and nobody came to his assistance. He then entreated,
promising to go elsewhere; but I couldn’t trust him, and so I composed
myself to sleep, and soon dropped off. In the morning on waking a
melancholy voice entreated liberation; but I could not do it then, as he
might have taken vengeance. So I went off to the Governor, and complained
of the intrusion on my quarters; my man then liberated the much-begrimed
but now humbled Khan; and I got another set of rooms, in which I was more
comfortable.
I saw no more of the Khan: the laugh was too strong against him, and he
returned at once to Shiraz. Until my arrival the Governor was not aware
of the nature of his disorder; with great trouble I got him to reduce his
opium and cease his potations. I was happily able to give him relief, and
we parted mutually satisfied after I had been five days at Fussa.
The place was much warmer than Shiraz; grain and cattle were cheap indeed
here. The soil, though sandy, is very fertile; and the town, or rather
collection of villages (for it is more a district than a town), is
interspersed with groves of date palms. Oranges are, of course, abundant,
and there is great plenty in the place. There had need be, for the
exactions of those in power are very great in Persia. The people were a
laughing, careless set, devoid of fanaticism, having indeed very little
religion. Nearly all drank wine to excess. The women seldom veiled, and
talked with me without any _mauvaise honte_. They indeed seemed to do
most of the work; for the field-work was probably not heavy, save at
harvest-time, the country being so very fertile. The road from Fussa was
a howling desert, except a well-watered village about half-way.
We passed the edge of the big Salt Lake, some ten miles from Shiraz, on
which appears an island, or what looks like an island. After skirting
this lake, whose shores are bordered by an edge of mud some fifty yards
in width, we reached the village of Jaffir-a-bad, and thence, passing
small villages and gardens in every direction, got to the plain of
Shiraz. The pony brought me in as quickly as I had gone out, and I had
had a peep at country life in the south of Persia.
The prince’s hakim-bashi, the M.D. of Paris, replaced me, and he, too,
had a week’s leave. When he left, the old Syud told the patient that he
had gangrene, _cut off the gouty toe_, and being unable to staunch the
blood, the man died in forty-eight hours.
A year after this, one of the sergeants built a large boat for the
exploration of the Salt Lake. This boat-building was an amusement for us,
but the boat was found to be so heavy that it required fifteen porters
to carry her through the streets. She certainly held eight people, but
was very deep in the water, and more a barge than a boat, but as she was
flat-bottomed she would not turn over. While I was in Ispahan, where I
had gone on duty, she was placed on the large tank of the Bagh-i-Takht,
and after twenty-four hours left to the mercy of the populace. I believe
she is at the bottom of that tank now.
Another of the sergeants, a really skilled workman, and fired by the
actual boat having been floated, in conjunction with the builder of the
first one, resolved to make a real wherry. This they did from various
drawings, and they succeeded in building a very handsome boat, having
curved planks, which were bent with great trouble with hot water.
This boat was also fastened with copper rivets, and really handsomely
finished; but though so light that three men could carry it, it held two
comfortably, and would probably have been speedy, but it was so terribly
crank that no one would venture in it; and though it was ballasted till
the gunwale was almost level with the water, it turned over on the
slightest movement. This, the second and last boat built by the English
in Shiraz, is also at the bottom of one of the tanks. At Ispahan an
extraordinary barge was made afterwards by two of the staff for the
Zil-es-Sultan, and this could be rowed; but it was a barge, and had no
pretensions to be called a boat.
I now started a dog-cart, which I received from Kurrachee, intending it
for Ispahan, where there are _good_ roads; as fate would have it, when
the thing arrived I had been stationed at Shiraz, where there were next
to _no_ roads. I put my trap together with some difficulty, for the wood
had warped in the long land journey, and found it to be a big dog-cart of
the largest, heaviest, and (luckily) strongest type. Its weight appalled
us all.
Followed by a crowd, our servants dragged it outside the city gates, and
I put my chestnut horse in. Of course, he had never been in the shafts
before. On attempting to urge him forward he sat down, as a dog sits, and
declined to stir; this manœuvre he constantly repeated. I now in despair
tried an old and valueless grey horse. He walked off with the machine
at once, and, barring the want of roads, I had no difficulty. Luckily,
the trap was built of a solidity I have never seen, save in railway
carriages, and so, regardless of roads, I was able to go about. The stony
bed of the river, with an occasional bit of hard road, and thence to the
sandy plain of Jaffir-a-bad, was about the only drive.
Here, and here only in the neighbourhood of Shiraz, one sees enormous
tarantulas. These beasts, some with bodies as large as a pigeon’s egg
and legs in proportion, are very brave; when attacked with a stick,
instead of taking flight, they advance threateningly at the person
who molests them, and attempt to bite the stick; they are really
formidable-looking brutes, covered with brown hair.
A story was told me by the late Dr. Fagergren, a Swede in Persian employ,
who had been twenty-five years in Shiraz, to the effect that scorpions,
when they see no chance of escape, commit suicide; and he told me, that
when one was surrounded by a circle of live coals, it ran round three
times and then stung itself to death. I did not credit this, supposing
that the insect was probably scorched, and so died. I happened one day to
catch an enormous scorpion of the black variety. In Persia they are of
two kinds: black; and light green, or greenish yellow; the black variety
being supposed to be much the more venomous. The full-grown scorpions
generally are from two to three inches long; I have seen one five
inches when extended from the tip of the claws to the sting, but he was
phenomenal. The one I caught was very large, and to try the accuracy of
what I supposed to be a popular superstition, I prepared in my courtyard
a circle of live charcoal a yard in diameter. I cooled the bricks with
water, so that the scorpion could not be scorched, and tilted him from
the finger-glass in which he was imprisoned unhurt into the centre of the
open space; he stood still for a moment, then, to my astonishment, ran
rapidly round the circle three times, came back to the centre, turned up
his tail (where the sting is), and deliberately by three blows stabbed
or stung himself in the head; he was dead in an instant. Of this curious
scene I was an eye-witness, and I have seen it repeated by a friend in
exactly the same way since, on my telling the thing, and with exactly the
same result. For the truth of this statement I am prepared to vouch.
Of the effects of the sting of the scorpion (generally only the lower
orders are bitten, as they are barefooted, and their work may take them
to cool and damp places where the insects love to lie) I have had much
experience: I consider it is never fatal, save in the case of infants
stung in the throat, but it is very painful, the only remedy being liquid
ammonia to the wound, which gives speedy relief.
I have never seen a case of serpent-bite in Persia, and hydrophobia is
very uncommon, though it is said to exist. The only case of rabies I
have seen is that of Pierson’s dogs, narrated previously. Hornets and
wasps sting badly, and frequently I have known death occur in a child
much stung. The sting is worse than that of the British wasp. As to the
Persian tarantula, it merely bites.
A curious custom in Persia is the “nishan,” or token. The token is some
secret conveyed by a third party, as a token or sign of the consent of
the giver of the token to the request. Thus a man will say, if away from
home, and one wishes to borrow his horse, “Tell my steward to give you
my horse, by the ‘nishan’ (or token), that I gave him a present this
morning.” As the steward knows that the giving of the present was only
known to his master and himself, he hands over the horse at once.