learned the language, and the difficulty of learning is increased by
the loss of the flexible mind and retentive memory which are the
heritage of extreme youth. The temptation is to "go at it" violently.
Then come the aching head, the loss of sleep, the general lassitude
and nervousness, and the self-questionings as to whether she was right
in leaving her fruitful work in England.
Then, instead of realising the truth of the phrases used at
home--"multitudes flocking as the doves to their windows"--"fields
white unto the harvest," etc.--she finds that the work instead of
seeking her has to be made by her most laboriously, and oftentimes
the glowing hope of telling of the Redeemer's love and death to
throngs of eager and receptive listeners is fulfilled in the drudgery
of teaching sewing and the rudiments of English during the first year.
It is just this first year under which many women succumb. Then how
many of the failings and weaknesses of the larger world must be
epitomised in a mission group exposed, as Mr. Heyde of Kyelang
feelingly said, "to the lowering influence of daily contact with a
courteous and non-repulsive Heathenism and Mohammedanism"!
Missionaries are not likely to possess, as they certainly are the last
to claim, superior sanctity, and the new-comer, dreaming of a circle
in all respects consecrated, finds herself among frictions, strong
differences as to methods of working, not always gently expressed, and
possible jealousies and criticisms, and an exaggeration of the
importance of trifles, natural where large events are rare. A
venerable American missionary in Turkey said, "Believe me, the
greatest trial of missionaries is missionaries."
The small group is frequently destitute of social resources outside
itself, it is cut off from friendly visits, services, lectures, music,
new books, news, and the many recreative influences which all men
regard as innocent. The life-work seems at times thrown away, the
heat, the flies, and the mosquitos are depressing and exhausting, and
in the case of young women, especially till they can use the language
colloquially, there is little if any outside movement. Is it wonderful
that supposed slights, tiffs, criticisms which would be utterly
brushed away if a good walk in the open or a good gallop were
possible, should be brooded over till they attain a magnitude which
embitters and depresses life?
A man constantly finds the first year or two very trying till he has
his tools--the language--at command, and even men at times rub each
other the wrong way, but a man can take a good walk or a solitary
gallop, or better still, a week of itinerating among the villages.
People speak of the dangers and privations of missionary life. I think
that these are singularly over-estimated. But the trials which I have
alluded to, and which, with the hot climates and insufficient
exercise, undermine the health of very many female missionaries,
cannot be exaggerated, and demand our deep sympathy.
I do not think that the ordinary pious woman, the successful and
patient worker in district visiting, Bible classes, mothers' meetings,
etc., is necessarily suited to be a foreign missionary, but that a
heart which is a well-spring of human love, and a natural "enthusiasm
of humanity" are required, as well as love to the Master, the last
permeating and sanctifying the others, and giving them a perennial
freshness. Fancy G. G---- grumbling and discontented and magnifying
unpropitious trifles, when her heart goes out to every Chinawoman she
sees in a perfect passion of love![35]
With the _medical_ missionary, whether man or woman, the case is
different. The work seeks the worker even before he is ready for it,
claims him, pursues him, absorbs him, and he is powerful to heal even
where he is impotent to convert.
I have been to the hospital to see a woman from the Kuhr[=u]d
mountains, who was brought here to undergo an operation. She had spent
all her living on native physicians without result, and her husband
has actually sold his house to get money to give his wife a last
chance of recovery. Fifteen years ago this man nearly took Dr. Bruce's
life. Now, he says, "The fruits of Christianity are good."
Daily the "labyrinth of alleys" becomes denser with leafage, and the
sun is hot enough to make the shade very pleasant, while occasional
showers keep the greenery fresh. Indeed it is warm enough in my room
to make the cool draught from the _b[=a]dg[=i]r_ very pleasant. These
wind-towers are a feature of all Persian cities, breaking the monotony
of the flat roofs.
Letters can be sent once a week from Isfahan, and there is another
opportunity very safe and much taken advantage of, the "Telegraph
_chapar_," a British official messenger, who rides up and down between
Bushire and Tihran at stated intervals. The Persian post is a wretched
institution, partaking of the general corruption of Persian
officialism, and nowhere, unless _registered_, are letters less safe
than in Tihran.[36] I shall send this, scrappy as it is, as I may not
be here for another week's mail.
I. L. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[33] Since my visit Mr. Preece, then, and for many previous years, the
superintending electrician of this section of the Indo-European
telegraph, has been appointed Consul, the increasing dimensions of
English interests and the increasing number of resident British
subjects rendering the creation of a Consulate at Isfahan a very
desirable step.
[34] A few weeks later she died, her life sacrificed, I think, to
over-study of a difficult language, and the neglect of fresh air and
exercise.
[35] These sentences were written nearly a year ago, but many
subsequent visits to missions have only confirmed my strong view of
the very trying nature of at least the early period of a lady
missionary's life in the East, and of the constant failure of health
which it produces; of the great necessity there is for mission boards
to lay down some general rules of hygiene, which shall include the
duty of riding on horseback, for more rigorous requirements of
vigorous _physique_ in those sent out, and above all, that the
_natural characteristics_ of those who are chosen to be "epistles of
Christ" in the East shall be such as will not only naturally and
specially commend the Gospel, but will stand the wear and strain of
difficult circumstances.
[36] Nearly all my non-registered letters to England failed to reach
their destination.
LETTER XIII
JULFA, _April 29_.
Each day has been completely filled up since I wrote, and this is
probably the last here. My dear old Cabul tent, a _shuldari_, also
Indian, and a servants' tent made here on a plan of my own, are
pitched in one of the compounds to exercise the servants in the art,
and it really looks like going after many delays.
A few festivities have broken the pleasant monotony of life in this
kindly and hospitable house--dinner parties, European and Armenian; a
picnic on the Kuh Sufi, from which there is a very fine panoramic view
of the vast plain and its surrounding mountains, and of the immense
ruins of Isfahan and Julfa, with the shrunken remains of both; and a
"church picnic."
From Kuh Sufi is seen how completely, and with a sharp line of
definition, the arid desert bounds the green oasis of cultivated and
irrigated gardens which surround the city, and which are famous for
the size and lusciousness of their fruit. From a confusion of ruinous
or ragged walls of mud, of ruined and modern houses standing
complacently among heaps of rubbish, and from amidst a greenery which
redeems the scene, the blue tiled dome of the Masjid-i-Shah, a few
minarets, and the great dome of the Medresseh, denuded of half its
tiles, rise conspicuously. Long lines of mud streets and
caravanserais, gaunt in their ruin, stretch into the desert, and the
city once boasting of 650,000 inhabitants and a splendid court
survives with a population of less than 80,000 at the highest
estimate.
The "church picnic" was held in a scene of decay, but 260 people, with
all the women but three in red, enlivened it. It was in the grounds of
the old palace of Haft Dast, in which Fatteh Ali Shah died, close to
one of the three remarkable bridges of Isfahan, the Pul-i-Kaj[=u].
These bridges are magnificent. Their construction is most peculiar,
and their roadways being flat they are almost unique in Persia.
The Pul-i-Kaj[=u], though of brick, has stone piers of immense size,
which are arched over so as to form a level causeway. On this massive
structure the upper bridge is built, comprising a double series of
rooms at each pier with doorways overlooking the river, and there are
staircases and rooms also in the upper piers.
The Chahar Bagh bridge is also quaint and magnificent, with its
thirty-three arches, some of them very large, its corridors for foot
passengers, and chambers above each pier, each chamber having three
openings to the river. These bridges have a many-storied look, from
their innumerable windows at irregular altitudes, and form a grand
approach to the city.
As at first, so now at last the most impressive thing to me about the
Zainderud next to its bridges is the extent to which rinsing, one of
the processes of dyeing, is carried on upon its shingle flats. Isfahan
dyed fabrics are famous and beautiful, heavy cottons of village make
and unbleached cottons of Manchester make being brought here to be
dyed and printed.
There is quite a population of dyers, and now that the river is fairly
low, many of them have camped for the season in little shelters of
brushwood erected on the gravel banks. For fully half-a-mile these
banks are covered with the rinsers of dyed and printed calicoes, and
with mighty heaps of their cottons. Hundreds of pieces after the
rinsing are laid closely together to dry, indigo and turquoise blue,
brown and purple madder, Turkey red and saffron predominating, a vile
aniline colour showing itself here and there. Some of the smaller
dyers have their colour vats by the river, but most of the cotton is
brought from Isfahan, ready dyed, on donkeys' backs, with the rinsers
in attendance.
Along the channels among the shingle banks are rows of old millstones,
and during much of the day a rinser stands in front of each up to his
knees in water. His methods are rough, and the cotton must be good
which stands his treatment. Taking in his hands a piece of soaked
half-wrung cotton, from fifteen to twenty yards long, he folds it into
five feet and bangs it on the millstone with all his might, roaring a
tuneless song all the time, till he fails from fatigue. The noise is
tremendous, and there will be more yet, for the river is not nearly at
its lowest point. When the piece has had the water beaten out of it a
boy spreads it out on the gravel, and keeps it wet by dashing water
over it, and then the process of beating is repeated. The coloured
spray rising from each millstone in the bright sunshine is very
pretty. Each rinser has his watchdog to guard the cottons on the bank,
and between the banging, splashing, and singing, the barking of the
dogs and the shouts of the boys, it is a noisy and cheery scene.
I have heard that certain unscrupulous English makers were in the
habit of sending "loaded" cottons here, but that the calico printers
have been a match for them, for the calico printer weighs his cloth
before he buys it, washes and dries it, and then weighs it again. A
man must "get up very early" if he means to cheat a Persian.
The patterns and colours are beautiful. Quilts, "table-cloths" (for
use on the floor), and _chadars_ are often things of exquisite beauty.
Indeed I have yielded to temptation, and to gratify my own tastes have
bought some beautiful "table-cloths" for Bakhtiari women, printed
chiefly in indigo and brown madder on a white ground.
The temptations are great. I really need many things both for my own
outfit and for presents to the Bakhtiaris, and pedlars come every day
and unpack their tempting bundles in the small verandah. No Europeans
and no women of the upper classes can enjoy the delights of shopping
in Persia, consequently the pedlar is a necessary institution.
Here they are of the humbler sort. They have learned that it is
useless to display rich Turkestan and Feraghan carpets, gold and
silver jewellery, inlaid arms, stuffs worked with gold thread, or any
of the things which tempt the travelling Feringhi, so they bring all
sorts of common fabrics, printed cambrics, worthless woollen stuffs,
and the stout piece cottons and exquisitely-printed cotton squares of
Isfahan.
At almost any hour of the day a salaaming creature squatting at the
door is seen, caressing a big bundle, which on seeing you he pats in a
deprecating manner, looks up appealingly, declares that he is your
"sacrifice," and that with great trouble and loss he has got just the
thing the _khanum_ wants. If you hesitate for one moment the bundle is
opened, and on his first visit he invariably shows flaring Manchester
cottons first; but if you look and profess disgust, he produces
cottons printed here, strokes them lovingly, and asks double their
value for them. You offer something about half. He recedes and you
advance till a compromise is arrived at representing the fair price.
But occasionally, as about a table-cloth, if they see that you admire
it very much but will not give the price asked, they swear by Allah
that they will not abate a fraction, pack up their bundle, and move
off in well-simulated indignation, probably to return the next day to
offer the article on your own terms. Mrs. Bruce has done the
bargaining, and I have been only an amused looker-on. I should prefer
doing without things to the worry and tedium of the process of buying
them.
The higher class of pedlars, such as those who visit the _andaruns_ of
the rich, go in couples, with a donkey or servant to carry their
bundles.
I mentioned that the Amir-i-Panj had called and had asked me to visit
his wife. I sent a message to say that my entrance into Isfahan had
been so disagreeable that I should be afraid to pass through its gates
again, to which he replied that he would take care that I met with no
incivility. So an afternoon visit was arranged, and he sent a splendid
charger for me, one of the finest horses I have seen in Persia, a
horse for Mirza Yusuf, and an escort of six cavalry soldiers, which
was increased to twelve at the city gate. The horse I rode answered
the description--"a neck clothed with thunder,"--he was perfectly
gentle, but his gait was that of a creature too proud to touch the
earth. It was exhilarating to be upon such an animal.
The cavalry men rode dashing animals, and wore white Astrakan high
caps, and the _cortege_ quite filled up the narrow alley where it
waited, and as it passed through the Chahar Bagh and the city gate,
with much prancing and clatter, no "tongue wagged" either of dervish
or urchin.
At the entrance to the Amir's house I was received by an
_aide-de-camp_ and a number of soldier-servants, and was "conducted"
into a long room opening by many windows upon a beautiful garden full
of peach blossom, violets, and irises; the table was covered with
very pretty confectionery, including piles of _gaz_, a favourite
sweetmeat, made of manna which is chiefly collected within eighty
miles of Isfahan. Coffee was served in little cups in filigree gold
receptacles, and then the Amir-i-Panj appeared in a white uniform,
with a white lambskin cap, and asked "permission to have the honour of
accompanying me to the _andarun_."
Persian politeness is great, and the Amir, though I think he is a Turk
and not a Persian, is not deficient in it. Such phrases as "My house
is purified by your presence, I live a thousand years in this visit,"
etc., were freely used.
This man, who receives from all a very high character, and whom
Moslems speak of as a "saint," is the most interesting Moslem I have
met. In one sense a thoroughly religious man, he practises all the
virtues which he knows, almsgiving to the extent of self-denial,
without distinction of creed, charity in word and deed, truth, purity,
and justice.
I had been much prepossessed in his favour not only from Dr. Bruce's
high opinion of him but by the unbounded love and reverence which my
interpreter has for him. Mirza Yusuf marched on foot from Bushire to
Isfahan, without credentials, an alien, and penniless, and this good
man hearing of him took him into his house, and treated him as a
welcome guest till a friend of his, a Moslem, a general in the Persian
army, also good and generous, took him to Tihran, where he remained as
his guest for some months, and was introduced into the best Persian
society. From him I learned how beautiful and pure a life may be even
in a corrupt nation. When he bowed to kiss the Amir's hand, with
grateful affection in his face, his "benefactor," as he always calls
him, turned to me and said, "He is to me as a dear son, God will be
with him."
The garden is well laid out, and will soon be full of flowers. The
Amir seemed to love them passionately. He said that they gave rest and
joy, and are "the fringes of the garment of God." He could not cut
them, he said, "Their beauty is in their completeness from root to
petals, and cutting destroys it."
A curtained doorway in the high garden wall, where the curtains were
held aside by servants, leads into the court of the _andarun_, where
flowers again were in the ascendant, and vines concealed the walls.
The son, a small boy, met us and kissed my hand. Mirza had told me
that he had never passed through this wall, and had never seen the
ladies, but when I proposed to leave him outside, the Amir said he
would be welcome, that he wished for much conversation, and for his
wife to hear about the position and education of women in England.
The beautiful reception-room looked something like home. The pure
white walls and honeycombed ceiling are touched and decorated with a
pale shade of blue, and the ground of the patterns of the rich carpets
on the floor is in the same delicate colour, which is repeated in the
brocaded stuffs with which the divans are covered. A half-length
portrait of the Amir in a sky-blue uniform, with his breast covered
with orders, harmonises with the general "scheme" of colour. The
_takchahs_ in the walls are utilised for vases and other objects in
alabaster, jade, and bronze. A tea-table covered with sweetmeats, a
tea equipage on the floor, and some chairs completed the furnishing.
The Amir stood till his wife came in, and then asked permission to sit
down, placing Mirza, who discreetly lowered his eyes when the lady
entered, and never raised them again, on the floor.
She is young, tall, and somewhat stout. She was much rouged, and her
eyes, to which the arts of the toilet could add no additional beauty,
were treated with _kohl_, and the eyebrows artificially extended. She
wore fine gray socks, white skin-fitting tights, a black satin skirt,
or rather flounce, embroidered in gold, so _bouffante_ with flounces
of starched crinoline under it that when she sat down it stood out
straight, not even touching the chair. A chemise of spangled gauze,
and a pale blue gold-embroidered zouave jacket completed a costume
which is dress, not clothing. The somewhat startling effect was toned
down by a beautiful Constantinople silk gauze veil, sprigged in pale
pink and gold, absolutely transparent, which draped her from head to
foot.
I did not get away in less than two hours. The Amir and Mirza, used to
each other's modes of expression, found no difficulties, and Mirza
being a man of education as well as intelligence, thought was conveyed
as easily as fact. The lady kept her fine eyes lowered except when her
husband spoke to her.
The chief topics were the education and position of women in England,
religion, politics, and the future of Persia, and on all the Amir
expressed himself with a breadth and boldness which were astonishing.
How far the Amir has gone in the knowledge of the Christian faith I
cannot say, nor do I feel at liberty to repeat his most interesting
thoughts. A Sunni, a liberal, desiring complete religious liberty,
absolutely tolerant to the _B[=a]bis_, grateful for the kindness shown
to some of them by the British Legation, and for the protection still
given to them at the C.M.S. house, admiring Dr. Bruce's persevering
work, and above all the Medical Mission, which he regards as "the
crown of beneficence" and "the true imitation of the life of the Great
Prophet, Jesus," all he said showed a strongly religious nature, and a
philosophical mind much given to religious thought. "All true
religions aim at one thing," he said, "to make the heart and life
pure."
He asked a good deal about my travels, and special objects of interest
in travelling, and was surprised when I told him that I nearly always
travel alone; but after a moment's pause he said, "I do not understand
that you were for a moment alone, for you had everywhere the love,
companionship, and protection of God."
He regards as the needs of Persia education, religious liberty (the
law which punishes a Moslem with death for embracing Christianity is
still on the statute-book), roads, and railroads, and asked me if I
had formed any opinion on the subject. I said that it appeared to me
that security for the earnings of labour, and equal laws for rich and
poor, administered by incorruptible judges, should accompany
education. I much fear that he thinks incorruptible judges a vision of
a dim future!
The subject of the position of women in England and the height to
which female education is now carried interested him extremely. He
wished his wife to understand everything I told him. The success of
women in examinations in art, literature, music, and other things, and
the political wisdom and absolutely constitutional rule of Queen
Victoria, all interested him greatly. He asked if the women who took
these positions were equally good as wives and mothers? I could only
refer again to Queen Victoria. An Oriental cannot understand the
position of unmarried women with us, or dissociate it from religious
vows, and the Amir heard with surprise that a very large part of the
philanthropic work which is done in England is done by women who
either from accident or design have neither the happiness nor the
duties of married life. He hopes to see women in Persia educated and
emancipated from the trammels of certain customs, "but," he added,
"all reform in this direction must come slowly, and grow naturally out
of a wider education, if it is to be good and not hurtful."
He asked me what I should like to see in Isfahan, but when I mentioned
the prison he said he should be ashamed to show it, and that except
for political offences imprisonment is not much resorted to, that
Persian justice is swift and severe--the bastinado, etc., not
incarceration.
Afterwards I paid a similar visit to the house of Mirza Yusuf's other
"benefactor," also a good and charitable man, who, as he speaks French
well, acted as interpreter in the _andarun_.
A few days later the Amir-i-Panj, accompanied by General Faisarallah
Khan, called on Dr. Bruce and on me, and showed how very agreeable a
morning visit might be made, and the following day the Amir sent the
same charger and escort for me, and meeting him and Dr. Bruce in the
Chahar Bagh, we visited the _Medresseh_, a combined mosque and
college, and the armoury, where we were joined by two generals and
were afterwards entertained at tea in the Standard Room, while a
military band played outside. The Amir had ordered some artificers
skilled in the brass-work for which Isfahan is famous to exhibit their
wares in one of the rooms at the armoury, and in every way tried to
make the visit more agreeable than an inspection of the jail! He
advises me not to wear a veil in the Bakhtiari country, and to be "as
European as possible."
The armoury, of which he has had the organising, does not fall within
my province. There are many large rooms with all the appliances of war
in apparently perfect order for the equipment of 5000 men.