SHIRAZ.—THE FAMINE.
Approach of famine—Closing of shops—Rise in mule-hire—Laying in
of stores—Seizures of grain—Sale of goods by poor—Immigrations
of villagers to the towns—Desertions of children—Increase
of crime—Arrival of money from England—Orphanage—Labour
question—Koomishah—Village ruffian—His punishment—Prince’s
accident—The kalāat—Mode of bringing it—Invitation to the
ceremony—Procession—Gala dress of the prince—The arrival of
the firman—Assemblage of grandees—The kalāat—The Kawam’s
kalāat—Return to town—Sacrifice of an ox.
The famine was now setting in in Persia seriously—_for two years
not a drop of rain had fallen_; the crowds of professional beggars
were reinforced by really hungry people, thefts from shops became
common, as did burglaries, and the roads were now very unsafe. In the
corn-chandlers’ shops very small supplies of grain were seen, and these
much adulterated by the addition of dust, stones, etc. The bakers baked
as little bread as they could, mixing their dough in as small quantities
and as slowly as possible; the loaves became gradually worse and worse,
though the price remained nominally the same. The coarse barley-bread
ceased to be baked altogether, and at last the bakers refused to sell
to the crowds which formed at their shop doors unless they were their
regular customers, and then only for ready money, and one small loaf to
each person, selling by weight being discontinued altogether. All who had
enough ready money laid in a store of grain and flour.
[Illustration: FAMINE GROUP.]
Those who had cheap horses and donkeys sold them, and the price of the
cheaper class of horse fell very low, till at last beasts were turned out
as worthless, and killed and eaten by the poor.
Meat fell in price, but this did not much help those who had no money to
buy even bread. Large establishments were suddenly much reduced; the
armies of hangers-on, who live on the leavings of the rich and their
attendants, were now thrown upon the streets. Many of the bakers and
butchers closed their shops and fled.
Mule-hire rose to an almost prohibitive price, and it must be remembered
that this, in a country where all transport is by mule and camel, meant
the paralysis of trade. All the animals, save of the very rich, presented
a half-starved appearance. In the waste grounds near the towns, and by
the sides of the high-roads, lay the bodies of dead and dying mules and
horses.
Flour became adulterated, and was ground at home by the consumers.
Grandees, and merchants began to lay in stores of grain from their
villages, disposing of none, although an enormous profit could be
obtained on the contents of their granaries. The Governors of the towns
seized grain, or paid for it at a nominal price, and sealed it up in the
public or Government grain stores. Provender on the high-roads became
unattainable.
Prices, though steadily rising for all descriptions of cereals, suddenly
dropped on the hope of rain, only to rise in a few hours to a still
more serious figure. The lower classes began to pledge and sell their
copper-ware, tools, arms, and clothing. In the post-houses, where from
six to ten horses were generally kept, only two, and at times none, were
seen.
Villagers in quest of food began now to pour into the towns, and remained
herding in starving crowds in the mosques, having neither the means
nor the strength to return to their homes. The charity of the Persians
themselves was nearly exhausted, for each rich man had to feed his crew
of hungry servants _and their families_. The few unorganised attempts
to feed the poor, resulted in the crushing to death of several, and the
one loaf of bread doled out to each person on these rare occasions only
served to prolong their sufferings. Children now began to be deserted
in the streets, the dead and dying to be seen frequently, the greater
portion of the bazaar to be closed, typhoid to be rife, and crimes of
violence to be frequent.
And now came the first funds from England from the Persian Relief
Committee. In each town the money was husbanded and relief given in the
way most efficient and economical. Money was found to be the most safe
plan, at all events in Shiraz, of which I speak from experience, for
any attempt to buy bread in quantities failed, and caused an immediate
rise in price. Very many applicants were sent away; relief in the shape
of a numbered ticket, entitling the bearer, whose person was described
in a book kept for the purpose, to weekly relief in money, was given to
the utterly destitute. The difficulty of deciding on the claims of the
various applicants was great, and in many cases which had to be denied
permanent relief, temporary alms were given.
A large house was rented, and in it were placed all the deserted orphans
found in the streets; these were mostly the children of villagers,
though some were those of townspeople. These children were plainly
but comfortably clothed in the ordinary dress of well-to-do Persian
villagers, and well and regularly fed. They were placed under the care
of an intelligent and humane Persian, who really did his duty to them,
and were regularly inspected by the members of the Relief Committee; also
they were frequently seen at unexpected times. The poor emaciated bundles
of rags soon developed into strong, healthy children, and the regular
food, comfortable quarters, and good clothes did wonders. Most of the
staff took one or two into their service.
Seven years after, one of my two, who were taken as stable-helps, was
getting pay from me at the rate of thirty shillings a month, and was
my head groom, and would anywhere obtain that pay. Two were taken as
markers in the billiard-room, and are now respectable servants. As the
famine ceased, the _unclaimed_ orphans were apprenticed to good trades,
or placed in the houses of wealthy Persians as servants. No attempt at
proselytism was made, but a Persian priest was engaged to teach the usual
rudiments of reading, writing, and the Koran.
Many villagers came in and claimed their children, and these were often
loath to leave their clean quarters and good food, to return to hard
drudgery and rags in their native villages.
It may be safely said that no _deaths_ from starvation took place
in Shiraz after the arrival of the first instalment of relief money
from England. Of course, the application of the funds was carried out
irrespective of the religion of the applicants; and this application
was easier in Shiraz than in Ispahan. The Armenian community in Shiraz
were very few, and only some four families needed relief; while, on the
contrary, the Jews were many and terribly poor.
As to the labour question, a few of the more able-bodied were set to the
nominal work of picking the stones off the high-road, but no heavy labour
was insisted on. In the winter, too, the snow having blocked the streets,
the poor were employed in removing it for the general good.
I happened to go to Ispahan, and also assisted in the distribution
there. The Ispahanis are much more provident than the people of Shiraz,
and I do not think the distress would have been so great but for the
influx of villagers. At Koomishah, the third stage from Ispahan towards
Shiraz, the effects of the famine were very severe, and I was glad to
be able to distribute some four hundred kerans of the Poor Fund, both
going and coming, there. Of course this amount did not go far, and I was
besieged in the post-house by the hungry crowd of women and children;
the sum was too small to permit of giving anything to the men. First
we admitted all the aged women, and gave them a keran and a half each;
then each child was given a keran, and, when they had secreted it, the
whole number were passed out and the gates closed. From the roof of the
post-house I perceived a big burly villager, who was employed in robbing
the children, as they went out, of their slender store, even throwing
them on the ground and taking the coin from their mouths. The other
villagers, of whom there was a large mob, merely laughed, but did not
interfere. But getting down from the back wall of the post-house by means
of horse-ropes, the postmaster, my groom and I succeeded in catching the
fellow, and dragging him into the post-house, and then the post-boys
gave him a good hiding by my order, and we took the money away. He, of
course, complained to the local Governor, who requested an explanation.
I called on him and told him of the fellow’s misdeeds, and, much to his
astonishment, the man in power gave the ruffian a liberal bastinado.
Terrible stories are extant of what happened in certain places, and there
is no doubt of the truth of many of these. That the people ate grass and
the carrion, that they lived on the blood at the public slaughter-houses,
that they, having sold all, also sold their children, is within my
personal knowledge. Cannibalism, too, was proved. In fine, had it not
been for the exertions of the Persian Relief Committee in London, the
ravages of the famine would have only ended in the temporary depopulation
of the south and centre of Persia.
Each great personage in Ispahan and Shiraz did his best to preserve his
own dependents from starvation; but there being no kind of organisation
among the Persians, and transit-rates being prohibitive, and the roads
unsafe, small local famines were frequent, and the ravages of typhoid and
diphtheria—the latter previously unknown in the country—were very great.
Just now an accident to the Prince Zil-es-Sultan took place. He was out
shooting near Shiraz, and having charged one barrel of his gun twice, the
weapon burst, tearing the palm of his hand and the ball of the thumb. I
was called in to attend him, and was fortunate enough to preserve the
hand. For this his Royal Highness was very grateful, and during the
whole of my time in Persia showed me many kindnesses, besides giving
me an extremely liberal fee, even for a king’s son: he _compelled_ his
vizier also to give me one. He even insisted on decorating me with the
star of the Lion and Sun; but as Englishmen in Government employ are not
allowed to accept the decorations of foreign Governments without special
permission, the honour, much coveted among the Persians, was not of much
benefit to me. I got it in a very public and sudden manner, and as the
occasion of giving it was sufficiently curious, I may as well describe it.
It is the custom in Persia to send to all governors, royal personages,
and ministers, a yearly present from the king, to show the royal
satisfaction. These presents are all termed kalāats (or dresses of
honour), even though the gift may be in jewellery, or even specie; a
dress or robe of greater or less value, or a jewelled weapon, being
the general kalāat. The withholding of the yearly robe of honour to a
provincial governor is generally the sign of the royal disfavour, and
the despatching of it often the token of the recipient’s confirmation in
office, though at times it is what gilds the bitter pill of his recall.
The kalāat is usually sent from the capital by the hands of some person
of consequence, generally some favoured servant of the Shah, and this man
is sent down that he may receive a present, generally large in amount,
from the recipient, and may bring back the usual bribe to the Prime
Minister for retention in power, or even the same thing to the king
himself.
The New Year’s festival is generally the time of the despatch of the
official dresses of honour from the capital. The bearer, and his two
or more attendants, generally come on post-horses, and the etiquette
is that the recipient goes out to meet the royal gift. The bringer, on
arrival at the last stage, is met by the servants or friends of the
recipient, who send off to announce the arrival. He now takes off his
travel-stained garments, puts on his finery, and starts on horses sent
out for him, bearing the royal bounty at his saddle-bow wrapped in a
Cashmere shawl. The recipient, accompanied by all his friends and the
greater portion of the populace—for the bazaar is closed by order, and
a general illumination _commanded_ for the evening; all the shops are
visited, and severe fines inflicted on any one disobeying—proceeds to
meet the present, and await its arrival. The distance that is gone is
regulated by the position of the recipient—the greater the personage, the
less distance he goes.
One morning the prince sent for me and told me that a kalāat from the
Shah would arrive for him the next morning, and that he wished his
hakim-bashi and myself to ride out with the magnates of the place, who
would accompany him, to meet it. I of course expressed my readiness to
attend his Royal Highness, and I was told by the hakim-bashi, who was
very jubilant, that probably a decoration would be given to each of us.
To have declined would have been to give mortal offence, and to have lost
the favour of the Governor of the province, whose partiality secured
me against annoyance from the natives of any kind. So the next day I
presented myself at nearly noon and found the prince in great feather,
the head astrologer having appointed two in the afternoon for the enduing
of the dress of honour. Every one was in gala dress, the streets were
thronged by a holiday mob in high good humour. And out we all rode.
First came four yessaouls, or outriders, with silver maces, showing off
their horses by capering in circles; then six running footmen, each
with his silver-headed staff and clad in the royal scarlet, in the
ancient costume of Persia, and with the strange head-dress somewhat
like a fool’s pointed cap—these men are called “shahtirs;” then grooms
mounted, leading the handsomest horses of the prince’s stud with gold
and jewelled harness and a Cashmere shawl spread over each saddle; then
the “mir-achor” (literally, lord of the manger), or master of the horse—a
coarse, heavy fellow, the prince’s maternal uncle (his mother, they say,
was a peasant girl who struck the king’s eye while washing linen at a
village stream)—the mir-achor riding a big and valuable animal; then
the prince himself, on a handsome iron-grey, the tail of which is dyed
red (a royal custom permitted only to the sons of the king besides the
Shah himself), clad in his best—a handsome shawl-coat of great value and
trimmed with sable, an under dress of blue satin embroidered in silver,
gold, and coloured thread, a gold belt having a rosette of diamonds
with a huge central emerald, the thing being four inches in diameter,
and wearing his various decorations and the portrait of the Shah set in
brilliants. His black cloth hat is fiercely cocked, and he smiles at the
acclamations of the people, and is evidently delighted at his apparent
popularity. After him come the two rival magnates of Shiraz, the Kawam
and Muschir (the minister of the young prince); then the two secretaries,
the hakim-bashi, and myself; then the principal people of Shiraz and the
prince’s attendants, all on horseback; then some merchants on mules; then
a shouting crowd which follows the procession. Soldiers lined the road,
and a battery of artillery is drawn up to fire one hundred and one guns
when the royal dress of honour is donned. We ride to about a mile and a
half from the town on the Ispahan road. Half-a-dozen horsemen station
themselves at distances of one hundred yards along the post-road in the
direction whence the king’s messenger must come. In a few moments a gun
is fired by one of these, then another as he perceives the messenger’s
arrival, and we see three men, one bearing a bundle, advancing at full
gallop. A letter is handed to the prince, it is the royal firman; he
raises it to his head and hands it to the Muschir, the principal official
present; the messenger rides at the prince’s side, who asks him the news
of Teheran.
We all ride slowly back towards the town, and so enter the “Bagh-i-No”
(new garden), a Government garden where the dress of honour is to be
publicly put on.
The prince invites me into an inner room, and I am given coffee. He
then tells me that he has requested the Order of the Lion and Sun to be
conferred on me, for which I express my gratitude; and the hakim-bashi,
who is also to get it, does the same.
The doctor and I enter the big open verandah, or talár, and are given a
prominent place among the grandees there, a few priests and officials
also being honoured with places, as are the chief merchant and some
others. Vases of roses and common flowers are placed at intervals along
the front of the talár, beyond this is the big tank, round which are
crowded the merchants, tradesmen, and populace of Shiraz, an orderly
crowd. The Muschir who presides is affable, and regales us with
sweetmeats, pipes, and sherbet.
The prince enters, followed by the bearer of the kalāat. We all stand up,
the royal firman or order is read by the Muschir. The kalāat, a Cashmere
shawl-coat worth some eighty pounds, and trimmed with rich furs, having
a string of big pearls and a bored but uncut emerald attached to the top
button, is put on by the prince amid acclamations, being handed to him
by the bearer. Then a jewelled wand or rod of office some four feet long
is handed by the Muschir to the Kawam, or mayor of Shiraz; he bows, more
acclamations—this is his kalāat. Then the star (having a centre enamelled
on gold of the Lion and Sun) is affixed to the breasts of the hakim-bashi
and myself; and now we all rush for our horses, and the mob rush for the
flower-vases, which are mostly smashed in the struggle.
We return to the town in procession as we came. On nearing the bridge,
the Jews, as is customary, behead a little ox at the feet of the prince,
and their chief man runs with the bleeding head by the prince’s side till
driven off by the farrashes or stick-men; then glass jars of sweetmeats
were smashed by the tradesmen under the feet of the royal horse, and
amidst shouts, dust, and the reports of the cannon, we enter the town,
and I, popping my star in my pocket, canter off to my own house. I have
never worn it since, but I could not refuse it, as it was meant in
kindness, and I did not wish to offend.