—The military tribes and the royal guard—Men of the people as great monarchs—Persian sense of humour—Nightingales and poetry—Legendary origin of the royal emblem—Lion and Sun—Ancient Golden Eagle emblem—The Blacksmith's Apron the royal standard.
The warlike nomads form a most important part of the military strength of Persia, and it has always been the policy of the Sovereign to secure their personal attachment to him as the direct paramount chief of each martial clan. In pursuance of this policy, the royal guard, known as Gholam-i-Shah, or Slaves of the King, which protects and escorts the Shah in camp and quarters, is mainly composed of bodies of horse furnished from the best and most powerful of the military tribes. These come from all quarters of the empire, and are headed and officered by members of the most influential families, so that they may be regarded as hostages for the loyalty and fidelity of the chiefs. All are changed from time to time, and thus a system of short service prevails, to give as many as possible a term of duty with the royal guard.
The termgholam, or slave, has always been given as a title to the personal guards, and everyone who is admitted to the corps claims the envied distinction of Gholam-i-Shah. This guard has a very ancient origin, and service in it is highly prized as giving opportunities of attracting the attention and gaining the favour of the King. The great Sovereign Sabuktagin, who reigned in the tenth century, was said to have risen from the ranks of the royal guard. All the couriers of the foreign legations at Tehran are styled Gholam, and the title is accepted as an honourable one, meaning a mounted servant of courage and trust, who is ready to defend to the death all interests committed to his charge.
The total strength of 'the guard' is twelve hundred and fifty, of whom two hundred are the élite, calledgholam peshkhidmet(personal attendants) and mostly belong to the Kajar, the Shah's own tribe, with which his Majesty always identified himself in the most public manner, and thus made every man proud of his clanship with the King. I here allude to the royal signature, 'Nasr-ed-Din, Shah, Kajar.' These superior guardsmen have all the rank of gentleman, and may be called the mounted 'gentlemen at arms' of the guard. They have the customary right of appointment to Court and palace posts, such as door-keeper, usher, messenger, etc. Their service is for life, and is hereditary, a son succeeding his father, and taking his place in the guard when promotion, age, illness, or death creates a vacancy. They have distinctive horse-trappings with silver neck-straps, breastplates, and headstalls, which pass from father to son, and have become highly prized heirlooms. The Shah was most partial to the representative tribesmen of his guard, and his happy characteristics as a King of nomadic taste and camp-like ways, in familiar acquaintance with all about him, were well shown at a military review which I witnessed at Tehran some years ago. The review was a special one, held in honour of the Swedish officers deputed by King Oscar II. of Norway and Sweden to convey the high order of the Seraphin to his Majesty the Shah, and as many troops as possible were called in from the surrounding districts to take part in it. The royal guard mustered strong, and when they marched past, the Shah stepped forward to the saluting line, so as to be closer to them, and called out to each troop, and named each commander in terms of praise and pleasure. This display of personal knowledge of the men, and acquaintance with their leaders, drew from them a perfect buzz of delight.
On this occasion the smart appearance of the Bakhtiari horse attracted particular attention. The Persian bystanders showed their pride in these popular mounted mountaineers by the admiring exclamation, 'Here come the Bakhtiaris!' They were very noticeable by their white felt, round, brimless hats, and the good line they preserved when passing. The Bakhtiaris (Lurs) are the most numerous and powerful of all the military tribes, and are noted for their superior martial qualities both as horse and foot. They are of the most ancient Persian descent, and have held the hills and valleys of Luristan from time immemorial; while all the other military tribes may be said to be of much later date, and of foreign origin—Arab, Syrian, Turk, and Tartar. Competent authorities, who have had full opportunity of judging, agree in saying that they are as good material for soldiers as can be found anywhere. I was greatly interested in hearing the Shah's Prime Minister speak in glowing terms of the gallantry of the Bakhtiari infantry at the capture of Kandahar under Nadir Shah, who, after subduing them in their own mountains, won them over to serve him loyally and well in his conquering campaigns against Afghanistan and India. The Grand Vizier mentioned the circumstance of the Bakhtiari contingent, after one of the many repulses met in the repeated attempts to carry Kandahar by storm, having in the evening, when all was quiet on both sides, assaulted without orders and captured a commanding, position in the defences, which they had failed to take during the day. The shouts of the victors roused the resting besiegers, and Nadir at once took advantage of the success to carry the citadel and gain possession of the town. As a closing remark concerning these nomad tribes, I may mention that they regard themselves as in every way superior to the settled inhabitants, and express this conceit in their saying, 'One man of the tents is equal to two of the town.'
I have mentioned the prerogative of the Shah to raise whomsoever he chooses from the lowest to the highest position, except under restrictions in the military tribes. This quite falls in with the democratic spirit which lies dormant among the people, ready to be displayed in willingness to accept a Sovereign of signal power who springs from the lower ranks of life. The social equality which Islam grants to all men was nothing new to Persia in forming ideas regarding a popular leader and elected King. The descent of such a man is deemed of little consequence in the minds of a people who look to personification of power as the right to rule. In fact, with them it is said that the fame of such a man is in proportion to the lowness of his origin. They know of notable instances of the nation being delivered from terrible tyranny and degrading foreign subjection, and being made gloriously great, by men of the people. They point to Kawâh, the blacksmith, who headed a revolt against the monstrously cruel usurper King Zohâk, using his apron as a banner, and finally overthrew and slew him, and placed Faridûn, a Prince of the Peshdâdian dynasty, on the throne which he might have occupied himself. This blacksmith's apron continued for ages to be the royal standard of Persia. In the ninth century, Yacub-bin-Leis, called the Pewterer, as he had worked when young at that (his father's) trade, made his way to the throne by sheer force of strong character and stout courage. He remained the people's hero to the last, was noted for his simple habits, for keeping with his name his trade appellation (Suffâri, the Pewterer), and for never having been wantonly cruel or oppressive. In the tenth century, when the great Sabuktagin rose from soldier to Sovereign, we see the principle of selection in preference to hereditary succession practised and accepted by the nation. And the choice was justified by the glory he gave to the Persian arms in extending the empire to India, and in the further conquests of his soldier-son, Mahmud, who succeeded to his father's throne, and added still more to the greatness of the kingdom, till it reached from Baghdad to Kashgar, from Georgia to Bengal, from the Oxus to the Ganges.
When the country was groaning under the Afghan yoke, it was the daring spirit of one from the ranks of the people, Nadir Kuli (Shah), who conceived the overthrow of the oppressor and the recovery of Persian independence. Originally a simple trooper of the Afshar tribe, he advanced himself by valour, boldness, and enterprise, and crowned his successes by winning the admiration of the royal leaders and adherents, who on the death of the infant King, Abbas III., son of Shah Tamasp, elected him to be their King. As such he carried the war into the country of the evicted oppressors, and established the power of the empire from the Oxus to Delhi, whence he returned with the splendid spoil which yet enriches and adorns the Crown of Persia. It speaks much for Nadir Shah's strong character that, having gained such distinction, he did not allow flatterers to find amid the obscurity of his birth the lost traces of great ancestors. He never boasted a proud genealogy; on the contrary, he often spoke of his low birth, and we are told that even his flattering historian had to content himself with saying that the diamond has its value from its own lustre, and not from the rock in which it grows. A characteristic story of this remarkable man is that on demanding a daughter of his vanquished enemy, Mahmud Shah, the Emperor of Delhi, in marriage for his son, Nasr-ullah, he was met with the answer that for alliance with a Princess of the Imperial house of Timor a genealogy of seven generations was required. 'Tell him,' said Nadir, 'that Nasr-ullah is the son of Nadir Shah, the son of the sword, the grandson of the sword, and so on till they have a descent of seventy, instead of seven generations.' Nadir, the man of action and blood and iron, had the greatest contempt for the weak, dissolute Mahmud Shah, who, according to the native historian of the time, was 'never without a mistress in his arms and a glass in his hand,' a debauchee of the lowest type, as well as a mere puppet King. In the end the demon of suspicion poisoned the mind of Nadir to such an extent that he became madly murderous, and assassination ended his life. The Persians say that he began as a deliverer and ended as a destroyer.
As a people, the Persians are of a happy disposition and bright imagination, doubtless produced by the dry, clear air of their high tableland, which relieves from dullness and depression. They enjoy a joke and laugh heartily, and they are able to see that most things have their comic side. The late Shah was quick to show the merry look of appreciation when something amusing was said. At the Nauroz Court reception of the Corps Diplomatique all the Legations, headed by the Turkish Embassy, were ranged in a semicircle in front of the Shah, and after the congratulatory address was delivered by the Sultan's Ambassador, his Majesty advanced and walked round slowly, pausing to say a few words to each Minister. His face lit up with animation when he spoke to one whom he knew to be able to reply in the Persian tongue. On one occasion, after speaking with the Ottoman Ambassador, who is always a Persian linguist (Persian being an obligatory subject of qualification for the Tehran post), he passed on to a Minister who was a good Persian scholar. Further on he found an equally well—qualified colloquial proficient in another; and on finding himself before a well-known very clever diplomatist for whom he had a great personal liking, he smiled and said pleasantly, 'Have you learnt any Persian yet?' The Minister bowed, and, looking duly serious, said in Persian, 'I know something.' The Minister meant to say that he knew a little, but the word 'something,' as used, could be taken, as in English, to signify 'a thing or two.' Such a meaning from the diplomatist who spoke was quite appropriate, and the Shah laughed softly and looked much amused.
As another instance (but in this case of grim humour) of seeing the comic side, a Prince Governor of a province, sitting in judgment, ordered a merchant to pay a fine of fifty tomans, but, though well known to be rich, he protested his utter inability to pay, saying he had never seen such a sum of money, and begged for some other punishment which the Prince in his wisdom and mercy would command. His Highness then suggested a choice of eating fifty raw onions, or eating fifty sticks (the Oriental mode of expression when speaking of bastinado strokes), or paying the fifty tomans. Persians are fond of raw onions, those they eat being small, and the merchant enjoyed the prospect of thus saving his money. He thought that the punishment had been ordered in ignorance, so, concealing his feeling of happy surprise, and affecting fear, he elected for onions. He struggled hard with them, but could not swallow more than half the number. He was then asked to pay the fine, but he claimed his further choice of the fifty sticks. Triced up, he underwent the pain of twenty-five well laid on to the soles of his feet, and then called out that he would willingly pay the fifty tomans to have no more. On this he was cast loose, and the Prince said, 'You fool! you had a choice of one of three punishments, and you took all three.'
Persian servants regard their fixed pay as but a retaining fee, and look for their real wages in perquisites. They show considerable ingenuity and brightness of idea in reasons for purchasing this, that, and the other thing, not really required, but affording opportunities for 'pickings.' A new head-servant, on looking round his master's premises, and seeing no opening for a fresh purchase, at last cast his eye on the fowls, kept to secure a supply of fresh eggs, instead of the doubtful ones bought in the bazaar. He introduced stale eggs into the fowl-house, and on their condition being remarked at breakfast, he gravely explained that he had noticed the hens were old, and it sometimes happened that old hens laid stale eggs, whereas young hens always laid fresh eggs; so he suggested clearing out the fowl-house and restocking it with young poultry.
The leisure time the servants have is not always well spent, it is true, but they have ideas of imagination and sentiment, which in some degree is suggestive of refinement. I have seen this shown in their love of singing birds, and their dandy ways of dress; for some of them are very particular as to the cut of a coat and the fit of a hat. I have sometimes been interested in seeing them carefully tending their pet nightingales, cleaning the cages, and decking them out with bits of coloured cloth and any flowers in season. In November I saw quite a dozen cages thus brightened, each with its brisk-looking nightingale occupant, put out in the sunshine in the courtyard; and on asking about such a collection of cages, was told rather shyly, as if fearing a smile at their sentimental ways, that there was an afternoon tea that day in the neighbourhood, to which the nightingales and their owners were going. These singing-bird-parties are held in the underground rooms of houses, which are cool in summer and warm in winter, and I imagine the company and rivalry of a number of birds in the semi-darkness, with glimmering light from the 'kalian' pipes, and the bubbling of water in the pipe-bowls, and the boiling samovar tea-urns, all combine to cheat the birds pleasantly into believing that it is night-time in the spring song-season.
The Persian poets brought the nightingale much into their songs of praise of earthly joys. The bulbul, of which they wrote and sang, was the European nightingale, which visits Persia in spring to sing and love and nest. They pass as far South as Shiraz, where they meet the plump little Indian bulbul, which is often mistaken for the Shiraz poets' singing-bird. The word is applied to both species in India and Persia, but the birds are quite different in shape, plumage, and voice. They meet at Shiraz, a place which possesses a climate so temperate and equable as to bring together the birds and fruits of the East and West, North and South; for there I saw and heard the Indian bulbul and the hoopoe, the European nightingale, the cuckoo, and the magpie, and I know that the fruits range from apples to dates.
The nightingale is the favourite pet singing-bird of the Persians. I had good information regarding the manner of obtaining them for cage purposes from some small boys who were engaged picking roses in a rose-garden at Ujjatabod, near Yezd. There are two large rose-gardens in that oasis in the Yezd Desert, where the manufacture of rose-water and the attar essence is carried on. The gardens are appropriately favourite haunts of the nightingales on their return with the season of gladness from their winter resorts in the woods of the Caspian coast. The Persian poets tell of the passionate love of the nightingale for the scented rose, and in fanciful figure of speech make the full-blossomed flower complain of too much kissing from its bird-lover, so that its sweetness goes, and its beauty fades far too sadly soon. The boys told me of the number of family pairs, their nests and eggs, and said that they took the young male birds when fully fledged and about to leave the nest, and brought them up by hand at first, till able to feed themselves. There is a great demand in the towns for the young nightingales, which in Persia sing well in captivity, so rarely the case with the bird in Europe. The shopkeepers like to have their pet birds by them, and in the nesting season they may be heard all over the bazaars, singing sweetly and longingly for the partners they know of by instinct, but never meet.
There is much pleasing romance and sentiment in the popular idea regarding the origin of the national emblem, Sher o Khurshed (the Lion and the Sun). The following legend concerning it was told to me by the Malik-ut-Tujjar, or Master of the Merchants of Tehran, a gentleman well versed in Persian history, literature, and lore, and who spoke with all the enthusiasm of national pride. When the first monarchy of Ajam (Persia) was founded by Kai Uramâs, some five thousand years ago, the sun was in the sign of Asad (Leo), the highest tower in the heavens, and the lion was therefore taken as the Persian emblem, and it so remained without the sun over it, as now shown, till about six hundred years ago. Ghazan Khan, who then reigned as King, was so attached to his wife, the Queen Khurshed (the Sun), that he desired to perpetuate her name by putting it on the coins he struck; but the Ulema objected to a woman's name on the King's coin, whereupon he decided to put her face on a rising sun above the national emblem of the lion, as now seen in the well-known royal arms of Persia. The story is that King Ghazan's affection for his Queen, Khurshed, was such that he styled her Sham'bu Ghazan (the Light of Ghazan).
This may have been the origin of the expression Khurshed Kullah, or Sun-crowned, which I have seen stated is a term that was used to denote the Sovereign of an empire, but from the fact of the features and style of dressing the hair shown in the sun-picture being those of a woman, I think the title may be regarded as applied only to queens. Catherine II. of Russia, from the magnificence of her Court, her beauty and ambition, and her fame in love and war, was known in Persia during her lifetime as Khurshed Kullah, and she is still designated by that title.
I would here mention another instance of a Mohammedan monarch desiring to publish to his people in the most sovereign manner his high regard for a wife by putting her name on the current coin. The reign of the Emperor Jehangir, son of Akbar the Great, the founder of the Moghul Empire in India and the builder of Agra, was chiefly remarkable for the influence exercised over him by his favourite wife, Nur Mahal, the Light of the Harem, immortalized by Moore in 'Lalla Rookh.' The currency was struck in her name, and we are also told that in her hands centred all the intrigues that make up the work of Oriental administration. She lies buried by the side of her husband at Lahore, the capital of the Punjab.
The subject of Ghazan Khan's succession to the throne of Persia is an unusually interesting one. He was a Moghul chief of the line of Chengiz Khan, and, holding Persia in tributary dependence for his sovereign master the Khakan, was at the head of one hundred thousand tried Tartar warriors. Persia was then Mohammedan, and the proposal was made to him to join the new faith, and become the King-elect of an independent Iran. He consulted his commanders, and then decided to enter Islam and become King. His apostasy was followed by the instant conversion of his hundred thousand men, who, with the true spirit of Tartar soldiers, followed their leader into the pale of Islam, and soon became the active supporters of the faith which they had so suddenly embraced. We can imagine the triumphant joy of the proselytizing priests as they passed down the crowded ranks of the time-hardened, weather-proof warrior sons of the bow and spear, who on June 17, 1265, paraded at Firozkoh, where the Tartar host was then encamped, to repeat the Mohammedan confession of faith. To them the learning of the Arabic words must have been the severest exercise they had ever been called upon to practise, and it is easy to think of the muttered swearing among the puzzled veterans that what was good enough for their leader was good enough for them, and that they were ready to do as he had done, without further talk or ceremony. Islam was then most actively aggressive, extending by the argument of smooth speech or sharp sword, as occasion demanded, and the Moullas must have regarded with enthusiastic pride the glorious reinforcement they had brought to its armies by the consecration of such a splendid warrior host to the service of their Church.
Ghazan Khan was the first of this race of kings from the line of Chengiz who threw off all allegiance to Tartary by directing that the name of the monarch of that empire should not in future be put on the Persian coins. On the coins which he struck, the Mohammedan creed, 'There is no God but God, and Mohammed is His Prophet,' was inscribed instead of the name and titles of the Khakan. He had not the courage of his heart's desire to strike his wife's name on the coins, as Jehangir did, but he was differently placed, in that, as a fresh convert and a new King by the favour of Islam, he felt himself unable to put aside the priests who had bribed him with a crown. Malcolm, in remarking on Ghazan Khan's accession to the throne of Persia, says that Henry IV. of France similarly changed his creed to secure the crown.
Ghazan Khan reigned about the middle of the thirteenth century, and was known in Europe for his supposed readiness to assist in re-establishing the Christians in the Holy Land. He was deemed a wise and just Prince, and it is believed that his policy led him to seek the aid of the States of Europe in order to improve the position and condition of himself and his kingdom. It is said that Pope Boniface VIII endeavoured by a display of his connection with Ghazan Khan to excite the Christian princes to another Crusade, and it was probably this connection with the head of the Christian Church which led to a general impression among Western writers that Ghazan Khan was not sincere in his conversion to Mohammedanism, and was at heart a Christian. There is reason to think that the secret spring of his action was to weaken the Egyptian Empire, which he regarded as hostile and dangerous to himself and Persia. It is not clear whether Ghazan Khan apostatized from the religion of his ancestors or that of the Christians, but he is believed to have been attached all his life to the latter faith, though he does not appear to have made a public declaration of his belief in its doctrines. He professed Mohammedanism in order to obtain the crown, but his life had been passed in friendship with Christians, and in wars with the followers of the faith he adopted.
Xenophon mentions that the royal emblem of Persia from early times was a golden eagle with outstretched wings, resting on a spearhead like the Roman eagle, but he makes no allusion to a standard. Persian historians tell of a famous standard carried from the mythical time of Zohâk to that of the last of the Pehlevi kings. Their story is that Kawâh, a blacksmith, raised a successful revolt against the implacably cruel King Zohâk in the earliest time of Persian sovereignty, and relieved the country from his terrible tyranny by putting him to death. The victorious blacksmith then placed on the throne Faridûn, a Prince of the Peshdâdian dynasty, who adopted his apron, which had been the standard of revolt, as the royal banner of Persia. As such it was said to be richly ornamented with jewels, to which every king, from Faridûn to the last of the Pehlevi monarchs, added. It was called the Durafsh-i-Kawâh[1] (the Standard of Kawâh), and continued to be the royal standard of Persia till the Mohammedan conquest, when it was taken in battle by Saad-e-Wakass, and sent to the Khalif Omar. Malcolm said that the causes which led to the sign of Sol in Leo becoming the arms of Persia could not be distinctly traced, but thought there was reason to believe that the use of this symbol was not of very great antiquity. He said, with reference to it being upon the coins of one of the Seljukian dynasty of Iconium, that when this family was destroyed by Halaku, the grandson of Chengiz, it was far from improbable that that Prince or his successor adopted this emblematical representation as a trophy of his conquest, and that it has remained ever since among the most remarkable of the royal insignia of Persia. He also mentioned the opinion that this representation of Sol in Leo was first adopted by Ghiat-u-dîn-Kai-Khusru-bin-Kai-Kobad, 1236 A.D., and that the emblem is supposed to have reference either to his own horoscope or that of his Queen, who was a Princess of Georgia. This approaches the legend told by the Malik-ut-Tujjar of Tehran, for the face depicted on Sol is that of a woman.
[Transcriber's note 1: The original text has Durnfsh-i-Kawâh. The original Farsi is Derafsh-i-Kaviani. The typesetter must have read an 'a' as an 'n'. Durnfsh is otherwise unpronounceable.]
—The Order of the Lion and the Sun—Rex and Dido—Dervishes—Endurance of Persian horses—The Shah's stables—The sanctuary of the stable—Long distance races—A country of horses—Thegymkhanain Tehran—Olive industry near Resht—Return journey—Grosnoje oil-field—Russian railway travelling—Improved communication with Tehran.
The distinguished Persian Order of the Lion and the Sun was instituted by Fateh Ali Shah, in honour of Sir John Malcolm, on his second mission to the Court of Persia in 1810, in company with Pottinger, Christie, Macdonald-Kinneir, Monteith, and other British officers, who rendered excellent service to Persia in organizing a body of her troops. These officers were followed by others, who in 1834, under Sir Henry Lyndsay Bethune, led the troops they had trained against the Pretenders who, on the death of Fateh Ali Shah, opposed the succession of the Vali Ahd (heir-apparent), Mohamed Shah, father of the late Sovereign. The Pretenders were defeated by Sir Lyndsay Bethune, and thus England established the stability of the throne of the Kajars in the direct line, and carried out the will of the great Fateh Ali Shah, who had appointed his grandson to succeed him after the death of his son, Abbas Mirza. During all the changes since Mohamed Shah's accession, Persia has always had reason to regard England as a friendly neighbour who has no aggressive designs against her. This feeling must have become conviction on finding that the defeat she suffered in 1856 caused her no loss of territory in the South, and the Order of the Lion and the Sun continues to be a signal sign of strong friendship between the two nations.
There are two great St. Bernard dogs belonging to the British Minister at Tehran, which, by their leonine appearance and tawny red colour, massive forms and large limbs, have made a remarkable impression on the imaginative Persian mind. They are dogs of long pedigree, being son and daughter of two famous class champions. Never being tied up, but allowed full freedom, they are perfectly quiet and good-natured, though at first sight, to the nervous, they may look doubtful, if not dangerous. These powerful giant dogs accompany the Minister's wife in her walks, and seem to know that they are to guard and protect; showy, gay Rex precedes, with his head up and eyes all about, while Dido follows, with head down, lioness-like, watchful and suspicious. Painful experience has taught the street-scavenger curs, which dash savagely at strange dogs, to slink away at the sight of this pair of champions, and the passers-by, who, as Mohammedans, are merciless to dogs, treat them as quite different from the dog they despise, so that they walk along feared and respected by all, man and dog alike. A Persian gentleman, riding past with his mounted followers, drew up at the sight of these St. Bernards, and said, 'I would give the finest Kerman shawl, or the very best Persian horse, for a puppy dog of that breed.'
[Illustration: A MENDICANT DERVISH OF TEHRAN]
Some of the mendicant dervishes of Tehran are of wild look, with matted locks, and with howling voice go about demanding, not begging, alms. They regard a giver as under some obligation to them, for affording him the means of observance of a duty imposed by religion. These stalk along defiantly, carrying club or axe, and often present a disagreeable appearance. One of them came suddenly by a side-path behind the Minister's wife, and followed, yelling out his cry of 'Hakk, hakk!' It was almost dark, and he did not see the great dogs, which had gone ahead. His cry and continued close-following steps were disturbing, so I turned and asked him either to go on at once or keep farther back. He frowned at what no doubt he considered my bad taste in objecting to his pleasing and superior presence, and hastened his pace a little to pass, but stopped suddenly on seeing the 'lion-dogs' belonging to the Janâb-i-Khanum-i-Sifarat (the Lady Excellency of the Legation), and asked to be allowed to follow us, saying he would be perfectly quiet. On reaching the Legation gate, and seeing his way clear, the dogs having entered, he left, saying gently, 'Goodnight; God be with you.'
Formerly a lady could hardly walk about without some little fear of look or laugh calculated to annoy. This is often the case in a Mohammedan country, the meaning being that the figure and face should be shrouded and veiled. But in presence of Rex and Dido there is no sign of the light look or laugh; on the contrary, there is rather the respectful gesture of, 'The road is free to thee.' The vivid imagination of the Persian pictures the group as personifying the Imperial arms, the Lady with the Royal guard, the Lion of Iran.
Before the warriors of the Mehdi made the term 'dervish' better known, it was commonly understood to signify a beggar. But though the derivation is 'before the door,' yet this does not mean begging from door to door. The dervish originally was a disciple who freed himself from all family ties, and set forth without purse or scrip to tell of a new faith among a friendly people, and to tarry here or there as a welcome guest. In due course he developed into a regular soldier of the Church, and as schisms arose and the fires of religious animosities were kindled, various orders of fighting fanatics, calling themselves dervishes, sprang into existence. Such were the Ismailis, first known as the Hassanis, in Persia, in the eleventh century, similar in character to the present dervishes of the Soudan. In the more favourable sense of the word, the true dervishes of to-day in Persia represent the spiritual and mystic side of Islam, and there are several orders of such, with members who belong to the highest and wealthiest ranks.
In the time of Fateh Ali Shah, the mendicant dervishes, who were then as numerous and profligate in Persia as vagrant monks used to be in Spain and Italy, became such a pest that one of the first acts of his successor, Mahomed Shah, was to direct that no beggars should be tolerated except the lame, the sick, and the blind, and that all able-bodied men appearing in dervish garb were to be seized for military service. The profession fell out of fashion then, and there are now comparatively few mendicant dervishes to be seen. Those that still wear the 'ragged robe' do not all appear to follow the rules of poverty, self-denial, abstinence, and celibacy. One there was, a negro from 'darkest Africa,' who attached himself as a charity-pensioner to the British Legation in Tehran, and was to be seen in all weathers, snow and sunshine, fantastically dressed, chattering and chuckling in real Sambo style. He knew that his religious cry of 'Ya Hoo' was characteristic of him, and he was always ready to shout it out to the 'Ingleez,' whose generosity he had reason to appreciate. He had a story of being a prince of fallen fortune, who was kidnapped in Central Africa, traded and bartered across Arabia, and abandoned in North Persia. He was known as the Black Prince. During the cholera epidemic of 1892, he took up his residence under some shady chenar-trees of great age, a recognised resting-place for dervishes, close to the summer-quarters of the English Legation at Gulhek, in the vicinity of Tehran. One day he sat outside the gate and poured forth a pitiable tale of the death of his wife from cholera during the night, and begged for money to pay for her burial. Having made his collection, he disappeared at nightfall, leaving his dead partner under the chenar-trees, and it was then discovered that he had possessed two wives, who called himagha, or master, and he had departed with the survivor, leaving the other to be buried by strangers. After that he was known as the Prince of Darkness.
The privileged beggars or mendicant dervishes of Tehran are not all of the stained, soiled, dust-and-ashes description; some are occasionally seen presenting a pleasing contrast in washed white garments, and of neat appearance. There was one such in Tehran, a well-known cheerful old man, who looked as if he could, in quiet company, tell entertaining stones, for recitation is adopted by some of these wandering dervishes as a pleasant means of livelihood, and many of them in the storytelling art show considerable talent, cultivated taste, and retentive memory. But, to be successful, they must be able to indulge in variations of their old stories by the introduction of new incidents which they have heard or invented. One who is known for good style is always welcomed at the many tea-shops and gardens in village and town.
[Illustration: A DERVISH STORY-TELLER OF TEHRAN]
In a most unlikely spot, on a long stretch of sand in the Yezd Desert, I met a well-dressed dervish in clean, cool white clothes, who stopped on perceiving that I was a 'Firanghi,' and, gently swaying his neat dervish-dole dish, said quietly, 'Charity; alms are as dew-drops from the heavens,' a most appropriate speech in the sandy waterless waste. Membership with the higher dervish orders appears to signify and convey something of the character of Freemasonry. I know of one highly-placed Persian gentleman who is a dervish, and also of a European gentleman of Oriental light and learning who has been admitted to the same order. A famous Prime Minister of Persia in past time, Haji Mirza Aghasi, was a well-known but rather eccentric dervish. My knowledge of this was the means, on one occasion, of averting a disagreeable display of violence by a gay sort of madcap, the relative of a post-house master, who had attached himself as groom to the stable establishment. My smart Armenian servant, who was equally good as groom or table attendant, had taken off his warm pea-jacket to help in bracing up the loads on my baggage post-horses, which were to be driven loose at a canter, the usual practice when riding post with extra baggage. A powerful, merry-talking groom, who came forward with the horses, picked up the jacket and put it on, saying that the morning was cold. And so it was, for the month was November. When all was ready for a start, my servant asked him for the jacket, but the laughingdiwana, or eccentric fellow, said it was a gift to him, and refused to part with it. Warm words passed, and I intervened and told him to drop his dervish ways and give back the jacket. Thediwanabecame excited, and shouted to all who were standing by that I had called him a dervish, and had hurt his feelings badly. I then told him he was hard to please, as surely a High Vazir was good enough to be compared with, for was it not true that the famous Haji Mirza Aghasi was of the noble order of dervishes. He took in slowly what I said, then smiled, and gave back the jacket with a good grace. The Persians have a proverb similar to our own regarding giving to beggars, 'Avval khesh, baad darvesh' (First our own, then the beggar. Charity begins at home).
The ordinary Persian horses are small, but very wiry and enduring. In harness they are also capable of very long journeys in light draught, as proved in the carriage service between Tehran and Kasvin. The distance is about ninety-seven miles, divided into six stages. On arriving at one of these, I found that all the posting horses had been taken by a Russian Mohammedan merchant who was travelling ahead of me in great style, with five carriages. I had two vehicles, one a carriage for myself, and the other atarantassfor my servant and luggage, each drawn by three horses. There was considerable traffic on the road then, and the horses had only a few hours in the stable between 'turns.' It was night when I arrived at the post-house, and though anxious to go on, I had no option but to remain there till the horses should come back from the next stage. On their return, after three hours' rest and a feed of barley, six took my carriage and waggon to the next post-house, sixteen miles, where again I found an empty stable, the horses which had gone with the party ahead of me not having come back. On inquiring judiciously from the post-house master if the horses which had brought me from the last stage were able to do another, I was told that with an hour's rest and an extra feed they would be ready to go on. And they travelled the second stage well, showing no signs of distress. These horses had done sixteen miles in draught, and sixteen miles in cantering back to their stable during the evening and night; then thirty-two miles in draught with me in the morning, and after a short rest were to return the same distance to their own stable, all in double-quick time.
I had the privilege of again seeing what I consider one of the most interesting sights in Persia, the stables of his Majesty the Shah. They contain the very best blood in Asia, and comprise the pick of the finest horses in Arabia, Persia, Kurdistan, Karadagh, Khorasan, and the Turkoman country, also the choicest home-breds from the horse-farms belonging to the late Shah and his sons, the present Shah and the Zil-es-Sultan, all of them great horse fanciers and breeders. The late Shah had three breeding establishments: one in the vicinity of Tehran, another near Hamadan, and the third at Maragha, in Azerbaijan, where the pasture is good. In each of these there are said to be about one thousand mares and foals. There is no part of the establishment of a monarch of Persia to which more attention is paid than his horses. They are always placed under the care of an officer of high rank, who is styled Mir Akhor.
The Mir Akhor (Master of the Horse), Mohamed Hussein Mirza, a Prince of royal blood, shows by his intimate knowledge of the history of each horse, and the good condition of all and everything under his care, that he loves his charge well. We were first shown the racing-stud, calledmal-i-shart(race-horses), thirteen in number, all in hard condition (the Persian expression is, 'as hard as marble'), and showing good bone and much muscle. They were Arabs, but not all imported from Arabia, some being bred from pure stock in the late Shah's establishments. The royal races are held at Doshan Tepé, six miles from Tehran, where there is a soft sand-soil course, said to be a two-mile one, but the correct measurement is one and a half miles. The Persians breed and train for long-distance speed and endurance, and the races at Doshan Tepé are from three to nine miles. The Prince pointed out the last winner of the nine-mile race, saying that he ran it in twenty-five minutes. This horse was a well-shaped, warm gray Arab, with black points. He, with a darker gray and a chestnut, all Arabs of pure breed from Nejd, none of which it is said can be obtained except by free gift, or rare capture in war, took the eye most with their make and shape. All were ridden slowly round the yard by their 'feather-weight' jockey-boys, dressed in red racing-jackets and blue breeches, with long, soft leather boots, and coloured handkerchiefs bound tightly round their heads in place of caps. I think thesesharthorses in the royal stables, which are always kept in galloping-condition, are the outcome of the old days of flight or fight, when it was necessary to be always prepared for raid, attack, or treachery, and so often man's best friend in pressing need was his horse.
'A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!'
After the racing stud came the riding-horses, sixty-two in all: deer-like Arabs of the best desert blood of Nejd and Anizah, and others of a stouter build from the country of the Jaf Kurds; selected cross-breeds from Persian and Turkish Kurdistan, and bigger-boned animals from the Karadagh, the result of a strong strain of good Northern blood. There were some long, low, powerful Yamut and other breeds from the Turkoman country, and some good-looking active small horses from Khorasan. From the Kashkai breeding-grounds near Shiraz were shown some fine big horses of high quality, also neat, stout mixed breeds from the hills and plains of Luristan and Persian Arabistan; and Arabs of the best type, bred from 'blood stock' by the Shah's sons, also choice specimens from the royal home farms.
Three gray Arabs, favourites of the late Shah, were brought out, set off with gold collars, and their points were gone over to show how powerfully safe they were as riding-horses on the hillside and the plain. One of them was said to be getting too old for good work, but he was bursting so with flesh and spirits that he threw out before and let out behind in such vigorous wide-circling style as to scatter the crowd of spectators,gholams, guards, and grooms. The most powerful and best-shaped among the riding-horses, in my opinion, were a Jaf (Kurd) dappled gray, and two big gray Turkomans, the latter very deep in the girth, and distinguished by the long, fine neck so common to their class, and rather large but lean heads, showing blood and breeding. The Turkomans say that the superior size and strength of their horses over others are due to the rich grass of their pasturelands, I may conclude this short account of the royal stud by mentioning that, as Persia is essentially a country of horses and horsemen, every foreign Minister on first arrival and presentation to the Shah receives the gift of a horse from his Majesty's stables. All these horses had their tails plaited or tied up. The Persians never cut a horse's tail, but tie it up, which not only improves the animal's appearance, but prevents the tail trailing on the ground, or being whisked about when wet or dirty, to the annoyance of the rider. The tail is only knotted up when the horse is made ready for riding, otherwise it remains loose, to be used for flipping off flies.
The stable of the King is deemed one of the most sacred of sanctuaries, and this usage continues in force to the present time. The stables of the foreign Legations are also regarded, by reason of the Ilchi-Envoy representative sovereign character, as affording a similar asylum, and in 1890 I was witness to protection being thus claimed in the stable of the British Minister. The military tribes of Persia have always regarded this sanctuary of the stable with the most superstitious reverence. 'A horse,' they say, 'will never bear him to victory by whom it is violated.' In a Persian MS. referred to by Malcolm, all the misfortunes of Nadir Mirza, the grandson of Nadir Shah, are attributed to his having violated the honour of the stable by putting to death a person who had taken refuge there. The same writer says that the fleeing criminal finds a place of safety at the head of the horse even when tied up in the open air; the fugitive touches the headstall, and is safe so long as he remains there. Malcolm again tells us of what is still observed, that it is not unusual for those of the military tribes who desire to show their respect at the funerals of chiefs and soldiers of high reputation to send a horse without a rider, but with arms upon the saddle, to swell the train of the mourning cavalcade. The favourite charger of the departed warrior, carrying his arms and clothes, accompanies the procession; the sheepskin cap he wore is placed on the pommel of his saddle; his scarf sash, orkumarbund,is bound round the horse's neck, and his boots are laid across the saddle. In all this may be seen the origin of similar customs now followed by the most civilized nations, and of the regard in which the horse is held as 'the noble animal.'
The late Shah had not a single English or European riding-horse in his stables, nor are any such seen in the country except some from Russia—heavy, coarse animals, bred in the Don districts, and used for carriage purposes. The artillery with the Persian Cossack brigade at Tehran also have a few Russian horses. Nasr-ed-Din had such a high appreciation of Arab and Eastern horses, of which he was in a position to get the very best, that he found it difficult to understand what he considered the fancy prices paid in England for racing stock. The story is told that when he was shown Ormonde at Eaton Hall, in 1889, and was informed that £14,000 had been offered for him, he tapped the ground briskly with his cane, and said in a vivacious manner: 'What! £14,000 offered for him? Sell him, sell him now to-day. Why, he may be dead to-morrow.' He would have been astonished to hear that Ormonde afterwards changed owners at the advanced price of about £30,000.
In speaking to two friends, competent judges of such matters, about the breeding and training for long-distance races in Persia, and the time in which it was said the nine miles had been run, I found that, while one thought the time might be reasonably correct, the other was more than doubtful. I have since then seen in theJournal of the United Service Institution of India, 1886, a paper on 'Horse-breeding in Central Asia, translated from the Russian of Kostenko by W.E.G.,' in which the following details regarding the Kirghiz race-meetings and the pace and staying powers of their horses are given. M. Kostenko mentions that the details are taken from an article by M. Garder in theVoyenni Sbornikfor 1875. He says that among the Inner Kirghiz Horde, races for prizes were instituted by the Minister of State Domains, beginning with the year 1851. On October 4 of the same year a circular course measuring four miles was made, and the horses ran five times round it. The winner did the 20 miles in 48 minutes and 45 seconds. Commencing with 1853, the races were run over a distance of 13-1/3 miles on a circular course, and of these races detailed information from 1869 was obtained.
The greatest speed was recorded on October 2, 1853, when the distance (13-1/3 miles) was done in 27 minutes and 30 seconds. The longest time, on the other hand, was 39 minutes 30 seconds.
The Chief Administration of the State Studs did not credit the information sent from the Horde, so that in 1856 there was sent to the sitting committee a second mètre, for the speed to be followed on it, the circumference of the circle having been previously measured. The president of the committee repotted that the measurement of the course was correct, except that in every 4 versts (2-2/3 miles) it was out 17-1/2 feet. The deficiency was then made good. Accordingly, on October 2 a trial was held, at which the speed was checked with the aid of the second mètre that had been forwarded, and several watches with seconds-hands. These showed the 13-1/3 miles run in 31 minutes. Of nineteen races run over this course, the average time was 33 minutes 40 seconds.
In 1861 a race was run over another circular course, measuring about 3-1/2 miles, five times round. The mare that won performed the distance—about 17 miles—in 48 minutes 45 seconds. In the Kalmakuluses(groups of nomad tents) of the Astrachan Government, races of 10 miles have been held. The greatest speed recorded was in 1864, viz., 23 minutes 56 seconds; the longest time was in the same year, viz., 27 minutes. The average time between 1862 and 1865, and 1867 and 1869, was 25 minutes 15 seconds.
The riders in these races are lads of not more than ten or twelve years of age. They are in no way specially trained, as from early age they are always riding, and grow up in good condition for hard exercise. Their weights range from four to six stone.
The Persians are a nation of horsemen still, and most of them can ride well. All the migratory tribes breed horses, and such is the habit of observation of horses in the country, that, as a rule, a man is known by his horse, just as in some parts of England a man is known by his dog. Owing to the notice thus taken of a man's horse, a party of nomad brigands who carried off all my baggage-train in 1890 were discovered and hunted down. There is a road guard service for all the King's highways in Persia, and an annual fixed sum is allowed for its maintenance. Officials with influence among the neighbouring nomads farm this service on the main roads, and entertain a certain number of 'black-mail' men for each stage from the various tribal sections to keep watch and ward. The official who farms the road guard service is held liable to pay compensation for losses by robbery, and this stimulates the energies of all to recover stolen property and to keep the highways safe and secure. Incidents of robbery occasionally happen, but, all things considered, the system may be said to work fairly well, as instanced in the recovery of my baggage.
I had taken a short-cut over the hills to avoid some miles of circuit by the highroad, and on the way I met the relieved Governor of Luristan returning to Tehran, with a long train of well-guarded laden mules. Some little distance behind them came three mounted nomads, armed with Martini-Henry rifles (the common arm now in Persia), and showing well-filled cartridge belts. They rode up to me and my party, consisting of agholamcourier and two servants, all mounted. One of the nomads, riding a chestnut mare, while examining me intently, dropped a short stick which he carried, alongside of me, and on dismounting to pick it up, his mare wheeled round towards me, and I saw that she had lost her right eye. We passed on, and shortly rejoined the highroad, and when close to the next halting stage, a post-boy, driving three loose post-horses before him, galloped up to say that he had seen my baggage mules driven off the highroad by five armed nomads. The road guards were called, and on hearing my description of the three men we had met, and that one of them was riding a one-eyed chestnut mare, they at once said, 'Kara Beg and his sons are in this,' and rode off to follow the trail. Almost all my luggage was recovered that night, and Kara Beg was hunted hard, and disappeared. He had been suspected of several robberies carefully carried out, so that detection was difficult; but in my case it appeared that he had hung on to the rear of the Luristan Governor's baggage without being able to steal anything, and when disappointment had made his men sore and reckless, they followed up my mules, which had no guard, and carried them off. The tribal road guards knew where to find him and his men, and soon had most of the plundered property back. The recovery was due to identification of his mare.
The English national love of sport has lately introduced into Tehran the populargymkhana, an institution which hails from India, where it is English enterprise under an Indian name. The British Legation has started this amusement, and it seems to provide energy for many who had longed for some fresh outdoor exercise, but could not organize it. Now, when weather permits, there are weekly gatherings for variety races, tent-pegging, and paper-chases. A very amusing and effective novelty, which I saw there for the first time, was a donkey tug-of-war. This new 'gym' was imported by a sporting young diplomatic secretary, who had lately arrived from Cairo, where he had seen it in full exercise. Tehran has excellent riding-donkeys for hire, well turned out, and attended by the usual smart-tongued youth. Eight donkeys, four a side, heading outwards, all ridden by Europeans, mostly English, were engaged in this sport. Neither whip nor spur was allowed. The rope was passed along under the right arm, and held as each rider thought best. At the word 'Off!'heels were brought into fast play on the donkeys' ribs to make them move forward, and the scenes that followed were ludicrous and exciting. Riders were pulled off backward, and, still hanging on to the rope, they managed to remount and get again into the pulling line in time to drag off someone on the opposite side, who had lost his balance on the sudden 'go' forward from the lessened strain. This amusement was a highly popular one with the laughing spectators.
Our travelling-party on the outward journey had separated at Tehran, and I travelled back homeward alone. I left Tehran in the middle of November, and as there had been a heavy fall of snow some days before, I quite expected to have a cold crossing of the Kharzan Pass over the Elburz range. I did the journey to Kasvin comfortably in a carriage, and rode thence to Resht in three days. I was unexpectedly fortunate in finding that the bright weather had freed the road over the pass from snow, and I had a perfect day, with still air, for that part of my ride.
About halfway between Kasvin and Resht the road passes through the extensive olive-groves of Rudbar, which for many centuries has been the centre of a flourishing olive-oil and soap business. There are about sixty villages in the district engaged in this industry; they possess from eighty to one hundred thousand trees, each yielding on an average from six to nine pounds' weight of fruit a year. The olive as a fruit-tree has been known in Persia from a comparatively early period, and it is not surprising to hear the villagers ascribe quite a fabulous age to some of the old trees, just as in Italy some olives are credited with an equally astonishing antiquity.
To me it has appeared that the habit the olive has of sending up new stems from the root of an old trunk—just as the chenar sycamore does in Persia—may have made the old trees become young again, and thus present, to succeeding generations in the villages, the look of the same old trunks. Messrs. Kousis, Theophylactos and Co., of Baku, have obtained a concession for pressing and refining olive-oil in this district, and I observed the buildings which they are erecting for their business rising on the right bank of the river there.
Near Rudbar commences the thick growth of various hard-wood trees, which flourish well in the damp soil of the Caspian slopes and lowlands, and in November their foliage was surpassingly lovely, with many warm tints, from delicate red to deep russet and shades of shot-green and brown. On some of the high, thickly-wooded hills, the different colours ran in well-defined belts, showing where particular kinds of trees had found most favourable soil, and had grasped it to the exclusion of all others.
About forty miles from the Caspian coast I fell in with rain and mud—such mud as cannot be realized without being seen. I embarked at Enzelli on board a small Russian steamer, theTehran, which had taken the place of one of the usual large vessels employed on the mail-service. The sea was rising as I embarked, and I was lucky in getting on board before the surf on the bar at the mouth of the lagoon became impassable. The steamer had five hundred tons of iron cargo on board, machinery for electric light and other purposes, intended for Tehran, but which could not be landed owing to the rolling sea. It was therefore carried back to Baku, a second time within a fortnight, for accident had prevented it being landed on the previous voyage.
There is always this risk of wind and weather preventing landing at Enzelli. Proposals have been made to remove the bar sufficiently to allow steamers of eight hundred tons to pass into the lagoon harbour; but the expense of doing this, and keeping up dredgers, would be great—too great, it is thought, to allow of any profitable return. The same landing difficulties are experienced at Astara and Lenkoran, the places of call between Enzelli and Baku. Should there be any intention of eventually making a railway from the coast to Kasvin and Hamadan, there to meet a line to Baghdad, then it would be the best course in every way to connect Resht with Baku by a railway along the coast, passing through Astara and Lenkoran.
The coast country is famous for its rice, which could be extensively cultivated, and the resources in forest and fishery produce are great. There would be considerable local traffic as the country opened up, and the through trade in oil from Baku would be a paying one. I believe the Russians know that it would be cheaper to build a railway along this coast-line of about three hundred miles, with such trade capabilities, than, in the absence of harbours, to erect breakwaters, make sheltered anchorages, and dredge navigation channels. For two-thirds of the distance the line would lie in Russian territory.
I met at Enzelli a foreign artist, whose acquaintance I had formed in Tehran, where he made some good pictures of local life and scenery. He was loud in his complaints of the elements—the heavy rain and the awful mud. He had come down the road with a minimum of travelling comforts, and had been rather miserable. On going off to the mail-boat in the steam-launch, he vented his feelings of disgust with Persia by spitting over the side towards the land, and saying, 'Ach! ach! what a country! 'May I never see it again!' When I reminded him of Tehran and its club, he acknowledged that he had enjoyed his stay there, and appreciated the place; but the rain and sea of mud at Resht had drowned and smothered all his pleasant memories of Persia.
The voyage to Baku was uneventful. There are two Astaras, one Persian, the other Russian, with the frontier stream between them. The steamer remained part of the night at the former place, and moved in the morning three miles to the anchorage opposite the latter. There the Russian Customs officers came on board to examine luggage. The first mate of the steamer, a Swedish Finn, attended the search proceedings, and became much interested In a rusty pistol which was found in the luggage of one of the deck passengers. The question arose, Was the pistol loaded? and he undertook to find out. He raised the hammer to full cock, and, placing the muzzle in his mouth, he blew down the barrel, with his finger on the cap nipple, to feel if the air passed through. He naïvely explained to me the certainty of this mode of discovering whether a percussion arm is loaded or not. In this instance the pistol was thought to be loaded, but it was found to be only choked with rust.
I had intended to returnviâConstantinople, but on arrival at Baku I learnt that the damage done to the railway between Tiflis and Batoum by a storm of unprecedented fury and unusually heavy floods was so extended and bad as to stop all traffic for a long time. I went to Oujari, a station one hundred and sixty miles from Baku, where I was hospitably entertained by Mr. Andrew Urquhart, a Scotch gentleman, established there with a factory and hydraulic presses for the liquorice-root industry, and from there I entered into telegraphic communication with Tiflis to ascertain if I could get a carriage to Vladikavkas, so as to join the railway and proceed home through Russia. There was such a number of passengers detained at Tiflis,en routeto Batoum, and all anxious to go to Vladikavkas by road, that I found I should have to wait long for my turn. Accordingly, after six days' stay with my hospitable friend, I went back to Baku and took steamer to Petrovsk, whence I travelled by rail to Moscow and St. Petersburg on my way to EnglandviâBerlin.
A great petroleum field is now being developed near Grosnoje, a station on the Petrovsk Vladikavkas railway, north of the main Caucasus range; and an English company has had the good fortune, after venturing much, to find the fountain for which they and others have long looked. After carrying on 'sounding' operations for some time, and sinking several wells, oil was at length 'struck' towards the end of August at a depth of three hundred and fifty feet, and it came up with such force as to reach a height of five hundred feet above ground. The well was on a hillside, and the valley below had been dammed up previously to form a reservoir capable of holding a large supply of oil. But such was the flow from the fountain, that after a few days it rose above the dam, and, although every effort was made to raise and strengthen it, the oil overflowed, and the top of the dyke was carried away. Millions of gallons were lost, though on its course down the valley the oil completely filled another reservoir, which had been prepared for the oil of a rival company, but which never came from their own wells. Eventually the main flow of oil found its own level in a low-lying piece of ground, about four miles below the broken dam.
As the fountain continued to flow with almost undiminished vigour, the Governor of Grosnoje began to be alarmed at the damage which was being done by this deluge of oil, and he therefore placed four hundred soldiers at the disposal of the English engineer in charge, and by their organized labour he was able to repair the dam, so that the flow of oil was checked. A friend, from whom I received this account, visited the place on November 27, and saw the fountain still playing to a height of twenty feet, and also the lake of oil which had been formed. The lake was about three hundred and fifty yards long, one hundred and twenty yards wide, and from fifty to sixty feet deep. The fountain was still playing on January 10, but it shortly afterwards ceased to flow. The same company had another stroke of luck in again 'striking oil' last month at another spot, some little distance from the original fountain, while, strange to say, none of the other companies engaged in prospecting for oil there have as yet succeeded in getting so much as a gallon. All this flow of fortune to the one firm reads very like the luck of Gilead Beck in the 'Golden Butterfly.'
Mr. Stevens, H.B.M.'s Consul for the consular district of Batoum, shows in his report for 1894 that the demand for naphtha fuel is increasing in Russia at such a rate, owing to it being more and more widely adopted for railways, steamers, factories, and other undertakings using steam-power, that the time appears by no means far distant when the Russian home market may be in a position to consume in the shape of fuel almost the entire output of the wells of the Caspian, and he adds that probably the supply will even be insufficient to meet the demand. With all this in view, the value of the Grosnoje wells, situated as they are on the main line of railway through the heart of Russia, is likely to prove very great.
I landed in a heavy snowstorm at Petrovsk on November 30, and found the whole country under its winter sheet. Since October 1 all railway fares and charges in Russia have been greatly reduced, and the policy now appears to be to encourage travelling and traffic, which must result in a general improvement of the minds and condition of the people.
Railway travelling in Russia is now much cheaper than in any other country; a through first-class ticket from the Caspian to St. Petersburg, seventeen hundred miles, is but £4 10s., and the other classes are low in proportion. The carriages are comfortable, and the refreshment-rooms excellent.
With accurate information as to the sailings from Petrovsk to Baku and Enzelli, one can now go from London to Tehran in fourteen days. This, of course, means steady travelling, frequent changes, a saddle-seat for about one hundred miles (which can now be reduced to seventy-five), and some previous experience of rough life, so as to reconcile the traveller to the poor accommodation afforded in a Persian post-house. But the Russian road, now under construction, will soon change the rough ride into a fairly comfortable carriage-drive, with well-provided post-houses for food and rest.
—Shrine of Shah Abdul Azim—Death of Nasr-ed-Din Shah—Jemal-ed-Din in Tehran—Shiahs and Sunnis—Islam in Persia.
The famous shrine and sanctuary of Shah Abdul Azim, about five miles from Tehran, is a very popular place of pilgrimage with the inhabitants of the town, and its close neighbourhood to the crowded capital makes it a great holiday, as well as religious, resort. This shrine has been specially favoured by many sovereigns, and particularly by those of the present dynasty. On the Mohammedan special weekly day of prayer and mosque services, Friday, called Juma, or the day of the congregation, Shah Abdul Azim is visited by great numbers of people.
On Friday, May 1, this sanctuary was the scene of one of the saddest events which has ever happened in Persia—the murder within its sacred precincts of Nasr-ed-Din Shah, a monarch who was about to celebrate the jubilee of a reign which will always be remembered, not only for its remarkable length, but also for its peaceful character and general popularity. The proof of this popularity is that Nasr-ed-Din Shah was able to leave his country on three occasions for visits to Europe, and returned each time to receive a welcome from his subjects. This in itself is unprecedented in Eastern history.
I little thought when I had the honour of conversing with him in October last that it was possible that a King so admired and loved by his people, and then looking forward with pride and pleasure to the celebration of his approaching jubilee, should perish in their midst by the hand of an assassin within five days of the event.
Passing over what in the early years of his reign, through the exigencies of the times and the pitfalls of intrigue, led to the shedding of blood, we see in his later years a reluctance to inflict capital or severe punishment which almost amounted to a serious fault. I remember an instance of this in the case of a notorious highway robber, guilty of many murders, who was spared so long, that it was only on the bad effect of leniency becoming prominently dangerous to traders and travellers that the extreme penalty was sanctioned. I have already mentioned how the people had learnt to put their trust in the late Shah's desire to protect them against oppressive government in the provinces, and how he had made himself popular with the military and nomad tribes. The crime which has caused his death will undoubtedly be regarded as sacrilege, both with reference to the life which was taken and the sanctuary which it violated. And the abhorrence of the crime will strengthen what it was intended to end or weaken, viz., the influence and power of the Kajar dynasty. With the impressionable Persians there will be but one feeling, of shuddering horror that such a thing could be done by one of their own faith, who was a subject of their Sovereign.
A criminal of the deepest dye can abide with perfect impunity in the Mohammedan sanctuary, and the tranquillity of this sacred safety, we are told, brings reflection and repentance to work the redemption of many from evil ways. Thus we can understand how horror-struck the nation must be at the thought of the Shah being mortally wounded while in the pious act of kneeling in reverence on passing the chain which marks the actual line where the 'bast' or sanctuary begins.
The murder is said to have been prompted by the well-known agitator, Jemal-ed-Din, who, though called an Afghan, is really a native of Hamadan, in Western Persia; but having travelled and resided a short time in Afghanistan, the term 'Afghani' was added to his name. He was well known in Tehran in 1891 for his vehement and violent public speaking against all Western innovations. I have seen it stated that it was owing to him the tobacco monopoly was withdrawn, as he had roused the Moullas throughout Persia, and wellnigh brought about a revolution. Jemal-ed-Din no doubt took a strong part at Tehran in the agitation, but he was in no way such a prominent leader of it as has been represented. The sudden introduction of systematic labour and Excise regulations under foreign direction, by which it was said a few depots were to displace the numerous retail shops and stalls, at once created a hostile army of unemployed small owners of hereditary businesses, who worked on the fears and feelings of the mass of the people. The Moullas and guild-masters then took the lead, and brought about the cancelment of the concession. All this I have previously described. It suited well the nature of a stormy petrel like Jemal-ed-Din to find himself in Tehran at that time, and he became an inflammatory public orator of the hottest kind. At first he confined himself to speaking against the tobacco monopoly and all European enterprise, and on his violent speeches being made the subject of some remonstrance, the Shah said that the Persians had long enjoyed great liberty of speech, and with them words generally took the place of deeds. But this freedom was misunderstood by Jemal, who gradually grew bolder, until his revolutionary utterances went beyond all endurance. He scarcely veiled his contempt for the Crown, and his opinion that all should combine to rid Persia of the rule of the Shah and the continuance of the Kajar dynasty. He was warned, but would not listen to reason; he was then arrested, and informed of the decision to deport him from Persia. On the day of his departure from Tehran under escort, he managed to make his escape, and took sanctuary in the same shrine of Shah Abdul Azim where the Shah was mortally wounded on May 1 by his follower, Mirza Mohamed Reza. Jemal opened negotiations with the Government from his asylum, and was finally persuaded to leave Persia quietly. It was said that he received generous treatment in the matter of his leaving, but I am aware that he stated he had cause for complaint on this head. We must bear in mind, however, that he was a hot hater of the Shah, and a thorough 'irreconcilable.' On quitting Persia he went to Constantinople, where he appeared to be allowed such free expression of disrespect to his Sovereign that the Shah addressed a remonstrance to the Sultan, who stated in reply that Jemal was leaving for some remote place to employ himself in literary work.
As a native of Hamadan, Jemal-ed-Din is a Persian subject; he is also of the Shiah faith, though it is believed that, in order to make things easy for himself, he passes as a Sunni where the State religion is of that creed. He was well received by the Shah on his visit to Tehran in 1890 as a man of learning and letters, and it is said that he accepted and enjoyed his hospitality. This, however, did not prevent him plotting against his royal host, and doing his utmost to compass the downfall of the Kajar dynasty. He probably saw clearly during his stay in Persia then that the Shah's authority rested too strongly in the minds of the people, by reason of his long and peaceful reign and mild rule, to give any hope of a successful revolution during his lifetime. And it may have been in this connection that recourse was had to assassination.
Jemal-ed-Din is credited among Orientals with a powerful energy and will in working on the enthusiasm of others, and establishing a moral despotism over them. His disciple, Mohamed Reza, appears to have resembled his teacher in reckless disregard of kindness, and determination to render evil for good. In him a willing hand was apparently found to carry out the first part of Jemal-ed-Din's programme for the reformation of Persia, but the possibility of madness in the act of murder was not foreseen. For the horror of the crime has been so intensified from being committed in the holy shrine of the sainted Shah Abdul Azim, that its object must be defeated in the most complete manner, and the reaction will result in stronger attachment to the throne of the Kajars.
Jemal-ed-Din held a brief for the union of Sunni and Shiah, an idea which from time to time has found favour with some advanced leaders of the former faith. He spoke of the gain to Islam in sinking their religious differences, and joining to form one Church and one creed. He was said to be very earnest on this point, and he succeeded in planting his opinions in Persia, as shown by the subject being still occasionally discussed. But the idea is entirely of foreign growth, and is generally introduced by enthusiasts like Jemal-ed-Din, who have exchanged their Persian national pride of Church and State for the ambition to see Islam ruling as one power from Constantinople to Pekin. These visionaries fail to see what thoughtful Persian politicians and Churchmen know well, that the Shiah schism has preserved Persia as a nation, for without it the incentive to popular cohesion would long ago have ceased.
The annual Passion-play to commemorate the murder and martyrdom of the progeny of Ali, and the solemn fast-days when their assassins are cursed and reviled, which are observed all over Persia, serve to keep alive their patriotism and pride of independence, for with the Persians, religion and patriotism are synonymous terms. There is probably no country where Church and State are more closely and fortunately bound together than Persia. Had the sovereignty not been Shiah, it would long ago have disappeared between its Sunni neighbours. With them the persecution of the 'accursed Rafizi,' as they speak of the sect, is the exercise of a holy duty, and their enslavement by Sunnis is a meritorious act, giving the heretics an opportunity of benefiting by example, and of rescue from perdition by conversion to the orthodox faith. Thus it was that the Hazaras and Shiah inhabitants of the small principalities on the head-waters of the Oxus were sold into Sunni slavery, and the purchase of the Shiah Circassians in the Turkish markets was justified on the same grounds. The bitter experience of ages has taught all Shiahs that, once helplessly at the mercy of the Sunnis, there must be absolute submission on all points. This conviction has buried itself deep in the minds of the Persian people, and they now and then are painfully reminded of the savage readiness of their Sunni neighbours to emphasize the fact.
In 1892 a bazaar quarrel in Herat between Sunni and Shiah traders grew to a disturbance, and culminated in some of the latter, Persian subjects, being slain and their goods plundered, the Moullas solemnly pronouncing their judgment that it was 'lawful' for Sunnis to take the lives as well as the property of the heretical Shiahs. The Shah, on the representation of the Meshed religious authorities, addressed a remonstrance to the Amir Abdul Rahman Khan, who, being a strong and wise ruler, made reparation. The religious antagonism is very bitter in Afghanistan, and were it not for the warlike character and good fighting qualities of the Shiah Kizzilbash tribe at Kabul, their presence at the capital would not be tolerated by the bigoted Moullas. The common danger makes the Kizzilbashes a united band and dangerous foe, and arms them to be always ready to fight for their lives. They have become a power which it is the policy of the rulers to conciliate, and thus secure their support. But notwithstanding this, the fanatical hatred of the orthodox Sunni, as representing both Church and State, cannot be suppressed. I was with General Sir William Mansfield (the late Lord Sandhurst) when he, being Commander-in-Chief in India, had a conversation with the Amir Sher Ali of Kabul on general subjects, in the course of which the Amir, in rather a captious manner, made some sharp remarks on what he called the hostile differences in the Christian Church; Sir William rejoined by referring to the great division in Islam between Sunni and Shiah, and asked if there were many of the latter faith at Kabul. A look of displeasure passed over Sher Ali's face as, half turning towards his people who stood behind him, he said, in a severe tone, 'Yes, there are a few of the dogs there, sons of burnt fathers.'