JOURNEY TO AND FROM TEHERAN.
Proceed to Teheran—Takhtrowan—Duties—Gulhaek—Lawn-tennis—Guebre
gardener—A good road—The Shah—Custom of the Kūrūk—M.
Gersteiger—Cossack regiments—Austrian officers—New
coinage—Count Monteforte—New police—Boulevard des
Ambassadeurs—English Embassy—Tile gates—Summer
palaces—Bazaars—Russian goods—Demarvend—Drive to
Ispahan—Difficulties of the journey—Accidents—Danger of
sunstroke—Turkeys—Keeping peacocks—Armenian tribute of
poultry—Burmese and Japanese embassies—Entertainment and
fireworks—Cruel treatment of Jews—Oil paintings—Bahram and his
queen—Practice makes perfect—Pharaoh and the Red Sea—Pharaoh
and the magicians.
After an eighteen months’ stay in Julfa (Ispahan) I received orders to
proceed to Teheran “to act” (for my chief).
We started, my wife travelling in a “takhtrowan” (moving bed). This
consists of a box with doors and windows, six feet long, three feet
wide, and four feet high. A thick mattress is placed in it, and plenty
of pillows. Where the road is fairly level, as from Ispahan to Teheran,
it is not a bad way of travelling for a lady. The great cause of
satisfaction to her was that she had her baby with her. Water was kept
out of the machine by a waterproof sheet being tacked to the top, and
a thick carpet was lashed over the roof when travelling in strong sun.
At each end of the box are shafts, and between each pair a mule. The
movement is at first rather sickening, but this is soon got over, and the
traveller sleeps the greater portion of the stage.
Although we travelled as lightly as possible, we were forced to take
twenty-four mules, and were heartily glad when our journey, which was
twelve long stages, and without incident of any kind, was over. I hired
a little house at Gulhaek, the village where are situated the summer
quarters of the English Embassy, and where lives the _chief_ of my
Department, _in the summer_.
In addition to my own work I was in charge of the staff of the
Indo-European Telegraph Company’s line who lived in Teheran. Our
own signalling staff too lived _in the town_. As however we had an
exceptionally healthy summer, the duties were very light.
I was also placed in medical charge of the Russian Embassy by the Russian
Ambassador, M. Zenoview, for the greater part of my six months’ stay,
their own physician having gone to Russia for a time on private business.
Gulhaek is one of the villages at the foot of the mountains bounding
the Teheran valley, and by prescriptive right the English Legation go
to Gulhaek, the Russians to the next village, Zergendeh, and the French
to another a couple of miles higher, called Tejreesh. These places are
delightfully cool, and if the _signallers_ of the Department and of the
Company could be moved to them, it would be a great boon to the men, for
it is terribly hot and unhealthy in the town, and the expense would not
be great: _in fact it ought to be done_.
Lawn-tennis, when we arrived, was in high vogue, and was played every
afternoon on a level ground (a _lawn_ in Persia is nearly impossible)
mudded over with what is termed “kah gil,” a mixture of “kah” (cut straw)
and “gil” (mud). This forms a sort of sheet of smooth and springy ground,
which gives a good foothold, and dries rapidly. The tennis was justly
popular, and was the most pleasant means of obtaining exercise, and
consequently health.
Our own comfort was increased by the arrival of an English nurse, whom we
had engaged to come out for a certain three years.
I was enabled to buy a small park-phaeton and a pair of well-broken
horses from a German, the master of the Shah’s mint, who was leaving
because he declined to debase the coinage, which was contrary to the
terms of his agreement.
In the garden next to ours lived a Guebre. A few of these men have been
under the protection of the English Embassy time out of mind. He kept
us supplied with strawberries at tenpence a plateful; and as we had not
tasted them since leaving England, they were a great luxury, particularly
in a warm climate.
The greater part of the road from Gulhaek to Teheran, being the way to
the Shah’s favourite summer residences, is planted on both sides with
trees and shrubs. These give a grateful shade; and as the road is in
good order, it is pleasant driving; but, when thronged, the dust rises
and covers everything, so that it is like a very dusty return from the
Derby, but with no excitement, _and hotter_. Still, a good road in nearly
roadless Persia was a thing to be taken advantage of.
Several times when out driving we met the Shah, and invariably drew on
one side to allow him to pass. His Majesty was always very polite, and
returned our salutes. On our passing the first time he sent a man to
inquire who we were. The Prime minister, too, was particular in behaving
in a civilised manner, but the ragamuffin attendants on the royal ladies
always used to shout “Begone,” “Be off,” and their postilions would
always drive as close as possible, and pass one as if they wished a
collision, or to take a wheel off.
The custom of the kūrūk is dying out. It used to be death for any man
to be in the neighbourhood of the royal wives when on their numerous
outings. The people always fled, or stood with faces to the wall; and
Europeans, when they saw the eunuchs’ procession approaching, and heard
the cry of “Gitchen” (Turkish “Begone”), to avoid unpleasantness and
possible rows, used to turn down the first street. A very eccentric
Austrian, the Baron Gersteiger Khan (the latter title being, of course,
a Persian dignity; for many years instructor to the Persian army, and
at last general; principal officer of engineers, and constructor of
roads, in which latter work he has really left some striking marks of
his success), on meeting the ladies when he was on foot, turned his face
to the wall like a native, and as each carriage passed, deliberately
_saluted from the back of his head_. This delighted the ladies, and they
informed the Shah. The Shah sent for Gersteiger, and made him repeat his
salutes, and after laughing a good deal, gave him a handsome present.
The king generally travelled in a carriage very like a sheriff’s, with
eight pairs of horses harnessed to it, with postilions. They went at a
fair pace, were always preceded by the royal runners (“shatirs”), clad in
their ancient Persian dress of red, with the curious turreted hat, like a
fool’s cap and bells, and each bearing a gold baton. These men were all
good runners, and some six or eight ran in front, while one or two always
kept at his Majesty’s side.
When we were in Teheran a number of Russian officers were engaged in
forming some so-called Cossack regiments. They engaged horsemen, whom
they regularly paid, and seemed to be teaching these men their drill
successfully. These so-called Cossacks were the Shah’s favourite toy of
the moment, and he was never tired of reviewing them. They were well but
plainly dressed, well horsed and well armed, and the Russian officers
were very popular both with Shah and soldiers.
A large contingent of Austrian officers had also arrived to instruct the
infantry and artillery; but though these gentlemen were well paid, they
did not find Persia the El Dorado they expected. Some of them resigned
while I was there. They also fought among themselves; and all have now,
I fancy, left the country. The capital was ever rather a rowdy place;
murders and burglaries were common; and, as in other towns of Persia, the
“darogas,” or police-masters, and their dependants were so mercenary,
that the townspeople preferred being robbed to complaining to them, on
the principle of two evils to choose the less.
The manufacture of false money had become a national evil, and forgeries
of the royal seals were frequent. The first evil was sought to be got
over by calling in the old rough coinage, which was hammer-struck, and
substituting a handsome series of medals in gold and silver, having
milled edges. These were introduced with great success, and the new
coinage was handsome and popular. But it was soon counterfeited, and when
the nuisance had attained its height the Count Monteforte arrived with
special credentials from the Emperor of Austria, and was installed as
head of police. This gentleman seemed to be exactly the right man in the
right place. He got on with the natives, in a few weeks established a
character for honesty and shrewdness, detected many offenders, recovered
much stolen property, and established a regiment of policemen, well
drilled, well dressed, honest, polite, and who REFUSED BRIBES. As bribes
are to the Persian what beef is to the Englishman, these phenomena have
probably ere this been either shelved or corrupted; but when we were in
Teheran in 1880, they were in full swing, and the wonder and admiration
of foreigners and natives.
Just one street in Teheran is very much Europeanised; it is fairly paved,
and lighted by lamp-posts containing candles. It is called the Boulevard
des Ambassadeurs, and as it is a wide street, the view from the bottom
is somewhat striking, ending as it does in the green hills and black
mountains covered on their tops with snow.
At the top, approached by an ornamental gate of great size, is the
palace of the English Ambassador. This has been recently erected at
enormous cost, partly from designs by the late Major Pierson, R.E. It
is surrounded by trees, and the edifice meets the requirements of the
country, and is very original in appearance. It stands in a magnificent
garden of great size, in which are placed the houses of the secretaries,
built like English villas of the better class. The interior of the
Embassy is furnished with great splendour with English furniture, and our
ambassador to the Court of Persia is lodged as he should be, _en prince_.
The rest of the town is wholly Oriental. Dead walls of mud and brick are
seen in every direction. The streets are mud in winter and dust in summer.
The principal feature in Teheran is the numerous tiled gates. These
structures, covered with floridly-coloured tiles in elaborate patterns,
mostly geometrical, having centre-pieces of representations of scenes
from the mythology of Persia, were certainly novel and curious. As a
rule, the modern tile-work is in striking contrast to the ancient, which
is much chaster, and in better taste.
Of the many palaces none were worth description, of those that I visited,
which were all mere summer retreats. They were gaudy, much painted and
gilt, and the white plaster-work, decorated with mirrors, was the only
kind of ornamentation having the slightest pretence to be artistic. The
dry climate, however, enables this effective style of decoration to be
used for _exteriors_, and it retains its pristine whiteness in the clear
air for many years. Many large buildings seen from a distance in Teheran
have a great appearance of magnificence, and it does not strike the
beholder at first that they are merely plaster-of-Paris over mud bricks.
To them the term “whitened sepulchre” is particularly appropriate; but
the insecurity of property must be considered, and a man would be unwise
to build an expensive edifice which would expose him to jealousy.
The bazaars are good, and sufficiently curious; of course much inferior
in size and richness to those of Stamboul (Constantinople). Most of the
goods exposed, not of native manufacture, are Russian.[36]
The Russian goods are liked in the Eastern market. They are _very
cheap_, and _very strong_; in fact, are suited to the country; they are
also, alas! very ugly. The tremendous land journey from Trebizonde,
or that from the Persian Gulf, or the alternative from Baghdad _viâ_
Kermanshah, closes the Persian market at Teheran to the English.
Fortunes, however, are made there, an importer of French goods (which are
particularly appreciated by the Persians) having retired with a large
one. About four hundred per cent. is generally charged, which covers the
heavy freight and the duty, and leaves about cent. per cent. profit.
We found a great deal of gaiety at Teheran. A weekly dinner at the
Embassy, generally a daily drive, and the society of many Europeans of
different nationalities, was of course a great break in the monotony of
our life in Persia. But our pleasures after four months were interrupted
by the serious illness of my wife. Our second little boy was born, and we
were lucky in having a reliable nurse.
The view of Teheran is made very unique by the great semi-extinct
volcano, Demarvend, in the distance, which gives it great grandeur,
towering, as it does, over the valley, with its top covered in eternal
snows, and taking innumerable lovely tints at the rising and setting of
the sun.
We came to Teheran by the longer way of Natanz, thus avoiding the great
Kohrūd pass, a particularly unpleasant stage when there is much snow;
and as my wife was really an invalid, we determined to return to Ispahan
driving—a thing no one has done before, and I fancy no one will do again.
I had a new set of wheels made specially strong and heavy, and with very
strong tyres. I succeeded in buying a second pair of half-broken horses,
in case my own pair came to grief, and we left in the autumn for Ispahan,
the nurse and babies occupying the takhtrowan, while my wife and I went
in the trap.
We drove through the town with some trouble, and as soon as we were clear
of the fortifications the road became broad and level, and we reached
Hadjiabad, a garden, where we stopped the night.
The next day we crossed a rocky mountain, having to drag the phaeton by
hand some miles, and then, locking the wheels with ropes, we got it down
a very steep place. The rest was plain sailing; the roads were generally
fairly good. My wife had to get out only some four times on a fifteen
days’ journey, and it was only on getting into or out of villages, where
there were at times deep ditches, but plenty of willing helpers, that we
had any difficulty.
On our last stage but three we mistook the road, and came forty-eight
miles instead of twenty-four. We, however, only used our second pair
once, as they were very unsafe; and our horses, strange to say, did the
whole journey well, and arrived in fair condition.
At the last stage but two a ridiculous accident occurred. We had
frequently snapped the heads of bolts, and even the bolts themselves, by
going over very rough places, the jolt breaking the heads off, as they
were steel. These we generally detected and replaced by others, which
we had caused to be made in Teheran. But Mūrchicah is a big village,
with numerous twists and turns between dead walls ere one gets to the
post-house. We had come a long stage, were very tired, and very anxious
to get in, and, instead of going over a deep dry ditch which we had to
pass, and which was very narrow, in a careful way, I was foolish enough
to try to pass it quickly. The result was a snap of all three bolts that
fixed the trap to what is, I fancy, technically termed the fore-carriage.
The thing hung together till we had got the hind wheels out of the ditch,
and then the horses, pole, and two front wheels went on, the carriage
itself remaining behind and falling forward; and, had not the apron been
up, we should have been shot out. Fortunately the reins were long, and
the horses easily pulled up. They were probably unaware of the accident.
Though we were in the village there was no one about. The servants were
either in front with the bedding, or behind with the loads, yet in five
minutes the bolts were replaced by fresh ones, and we were proceeding on
our way.
At this stage our little boy was taken very ill, and we both felt that
another march in the sun in the “kajawehs,” with his man-nurse, might
be fatal to him. So next morning we started very early, and taking him
in the trap, which had a hood and an opening with a cut leather curtain
behind, that made it very cool: we hurried over the twenty-two miles, and
did it in two hours and twenty minutes through deep sand.
The next day’s stage was a very bad one, as, though short, we had to pass
through the town, and had to take the horses out twice, and I dreaded
our own very narrow and dangerous road to the house. However, we got in
without accident, by starting at dawn, before ten; and the child, by
rest and nursing, was soon himself again.
The sun in Persia is a very insidious enemy. Many cases of sun-apoplexy
each year are seen, and I had a fixed rule that, except for evening
rides, my wife and I always wore an Elwood’s sun-helmet, and this
is the only real way to preserve oneself. All other things but the
topi are valueless, unless one uses the hideous pith hat, or resorts
to the turban. Of course in India these precautions are still more
necessary. I don’t know if these sun hats are made for children. They
are very necessary if children are allowed to go at all in the sun, and
they _will_ go, and natives _will_ let them. But really good-looking
riding-hats are turned out for ladies. My wife had a solar riding-hat _à
la_ Gainsborough, that was almost becoming; so that ladies at least have
no excuse. I was constantly warning those under my care of the danger
of little caps, billycocks, etc., but in many cases I was looked on as
a “Molly,” though I felt it my duty to press my warnings. Of another
thing I am convinced, that the powerful effect of the sun is much lost
sight of _in Europe_, and I look on a bright helmet of metal, _unless
air-chambered_, as an invention of the devil, and pity the poor Life
Guards, etc.; the horsehair, however, happily saves them a little.
On our journey down, at a place called Sinsin, we saw a big turkey, and
succeeded in buying a pair for fifty kerans, supposing them to be the
_only_ pair. We found afterwards that the head-man of the neighbouring
village had a hundred birds, and the price afterwards fell to eight
shillings a bird.
We were very successful in the rearing of the young turkeys, the hens
sitting on their own eggs, and proving good mothers. So many poults did
we have, that, when we left Ispahan eighteen months afterwards, we ate
two a week for nearly six months. The turkeys were of two varieties, the
ordinary black ones, as seen in Europe, and of large size, and a smaller
bird, of lighter colour, and more delicate, some of which latter were
almost pure white.
Peacocks are much valued in Persia, and supposed only to be kept by
royalty: the English Minister has several fine birds, and the _privilege_
of keeping them is jealously guarded.
We brought a quantity of tame ducks down from Teheran; these increased
and multiplied amazingly, and bred with some wild ducks of the common
kind. We brought also three geese. Geese, ducks, and turkeys were common
long ago in Julfa when Ispahan was the capital, but the Armenians,
finding that they had to pay a yearly tribute of fat birds, allowed them
to die out, and so escaped the exaction. However, when we left Julfa,
all the Europeans had turkeys and ducks, and there were plenty of geese
at Soh, three stages off: so, doubtless, by now (two years) they are
plentiful.
We were glad to get back to our own home, for though Teheran gave us most
of the joys of civilisation, still we felt that our home was in our big
house at Julfa. And how we did enjoy not having to start as usual the
next morning!
Our stay in Ispahan was not chequered by any very exciting events, save
those personal to ourselves.
During our sojourn, two ambassadors passed through it. One, the Burmese,
an old and cheery man with huge ears, accompanied by a staff of attachés,
one of whom spoke English well, and had been educated at King’s College.
He was supposed to be carrying rubies for disposal through Europe. He
had a ring with him as a present from the King of Burmah to the Shah.
Hoop, collet, and all, were cut out of one solid and perfect ruby of
the first water—a truly barbarous present. These Burmese all wore the
national apology for unmentionables—a handsome sheet of silk, termed a
“langouti.” This is wrapped around the waist, and depends nearly to the
feet; their heads were bound with fillets of muslin. The Zil-es-Sultan
gave an entertainment in their honour, to which we were all invited. A
fair dinner was followed by fireworks; these in Persia are always fairly
good, the only thing being that Persians do not understand _coloured_
fireworks, otherwise their displays are very good. One very good feature
is, that the public are always freely admitted. All the walls are marked
out with clay oil-lamps, and festoons of the same hang from wires affixed
to high poles: these are lighted after sunset, as soon as it is dark.
Music of a promiscuous character is played, all the musicians and singers
joining in to _different_ airs. The military bands strike up, each man
playing his loudest at his own sweet will. A gun is fired, and the huge
golden rains from earthen cones light up the whole scene, disclosing the
shouting throng of good-tempered Persians of the lower orders; all people
of condition having been provided with rooms and seats. All the roofs are
thronged with crowds of veiled women, flights of rockets are continually
let off, and the set-pieces soon commence. These are supplied in great
profusion, and, save for the want of colour, they are quite equal to any
effort of European pyrotechny.
A row of wretched Jews are now pushed into the tank—a proceeding which
always accompanies any official display of fireworks. I know not why,
unless it is to let the poor Jews feel, even in times of rejoicing, the
wretchedness of their position. Dancing boys dressed as girls twirl and
tumble, buffoons dance and pose grotesquely, the noise of music and
singing is at its loudest. “Kūrbāghah” (frogs), a kind of water firework,
are thrown in the tanks in every direction, and, as the set-pieces are
fading, the whole concludes with a tremendous bouquet of fire as in
Europe.
The Japanese ambassador, or rather commissioner, was received with less
ceremony, as he was proceeding _incog._ on his way to Europe, having a
mission to introduce Japanese goods to the notice of Europeans generally.
His attachés, too, spoke French and English, and were funny little
fellows; but, as the Persians put it, “too ugly to have any value, even
as slaves!”
We patronised art in Ispahan by having oil-paintings, executed by native
artists, of incidents in Persian life; some of these were sufficiently
curious. Among the subjects illustrated were “The Sticks,” a very tragic
picture indeed, where the expressions of pain, terror, supplication, and
ferocity were well shown.
Another amusing series were five pictures representing the history of
Bahram and his queen. The monarch is shown as pinning, with a master-shot
from his bow, the foot of an antelope to its side while it was scratching
itself.
“What do you think of that?” says the exulting king.
“Oh, practice makes perfect,” coolly remarked the lady.
They naturally separate; for it is a dangerous thing for a wife to
disparage her husband’s shooting. And here a curious parody of an ancient
classical legend occurs. Bahram hears of a _lady_ of great strength, who
is in the habit of carrying a full-sized bull to the top of a tower!
He goes to see the prodigy, and sees a lovely woman perform the feat
(scene depicted); his astonishment is manifested by his placing his
finger to his mouth—the typical gesture for this sensation in Eastern
art.
“Oh, that is nothing,” says the triumphant queen, “practice makes
perfect.” She then explains that she had commenced her feat when the bull
was a little calf. The king smiled, and took her back.
Many of the subjects illustrated were the histories from the Koran. Thus
the passage of the Egyptians, and their subsequent fate in the Red Sea,
is shown; Pharaoh and his host drowning, while a green-winged angel
exhibits to the sinking monarch a divine scroll, on which his sentence
is written. The expiring Egyptians are good, and the look of horror on
the face of Pharaoh is well done. _But a small steamer is seen in the
distance!_ Another picture was “The staff of Aaron changed to a serpent,
having devoured the serpents of the magicians of Egypt.” Here the winged
dragon (or serpent) of Aaron is so tremendous, that Wagner would have
been glad of him at Bayreuth: he is vomiting fire, and is a bogey of
the first water. Pharaoh, his eyes starting from his head, is depicted
in horror, while Moses has the satisfied expression of a conjurer after
a successful _tour de force_. Another represents Iskender (Alexander
the Great), who, having conquered the world, proceeds to the regions
of eternal night, as according to Persian legend he did in fact. The
conqueror and his warriors are well and carefully drawn, many of the
figures carrying torches and cressets; but the eternal night is shown by
painting the whole of the figures, trees, etc., _on a black ground_, and
a curious effect is thus produced.
Solomon in all his glory (see Frontispiece) is a favourite subject.
Solomon, who had the power of speaking the languages of animals and all
created things, and who could command the spirits of the earth and air,
is seen seated on his throne. Above his head is the fabulous bird, the
simūrgh; to his right, on a perch, is his favourite the hoopöe, below
this are two tiny efreet. The Queen of Sheba is seated in a chair of
state, behind her are her female servants and slaves, and two gigantic
jinns (genii). To the king’s left, are his Vizier Asaph (the author of
the Psalms of Asaph, or possibly the person to whom they were dedicated),
and Rūstam, the Persian Hercules, armed with his bull-headed mace. Behind
them are four jinns of terrible aspect. The air is full of birds; and the
foreground of beasts, reptiles, and insects. The tiny figures with crowns
are angels, servants of Solomon; the turbaned figures are courtiers and
servants.