We remained in this valley, over night, at the village Mahomed-Jur. If I had not been too idle I might have had an excellent meal of turtle. I saw several of them on the road by the brooks, and even in the fields, and had only to pick them up. But then to hunt for wood, make a fire, and cook! No; I preferred eating a crust of bread and a cucumber in quiet.
29th July. This morning we reached, in three hours, the village of Mahomed-Schar. To my astonishment my driver made preparations for stopping here. I urged him to continue the journey, but he explained to me that he could not go any further without a caravan, as the most dangerous part of the journey was now before us. At the same time he pointed to some dozens of horses in an adjoining stubble field, and endeavoured to make me understand that in a few hours a caravan was going our way. The whole day passed, and the caravan did not appear. I thought that my guide was deceiving me; and was exceedingly irritated when, in the evening, he arranged my mantle on the ground for me to sleep. It was now necessary that I should make a strenuous effort to show the fellow that I would not be treated like a child, and remain here as long as he thought fit. Unfortunately I could not scold him in words, but I picked up the mantle and threw it at his feet, and explained to him that I would keep the remainder of the fare if he did not bring me to Oromia to-morrow on the third day. I then turned my back to him (one of the greatest slights), seated myself on the ground, and, resting my head in my hands, gave myself up to the most melancholy reflections. What should I have done here if my guide had left me, or had thought fit to remain until a caravan happened to pass by.
During my dispute with the guide, some women had come up from the village. They brought me some milk and some hot food, seated themselves by me, and inquired what I was so troubled about.
I endeavoured to explain the whole affair. They understood me and took my part. They were vexed with my guide, and endeavoured to console me. They did not stir from me, and pressed me so heartily to partake of their food, that I found myself compelled to eat some. It consisted of bread, eggs, butter, and water, which were boiled up together. Notwithstanding my trouble, I enjoyed it very much. When I offered the good people a trifle for this meal they would not take it. They seemed gratified that I was more at ease.
30th July. About 1 o’clock at night my guide began to stir himself, saddled my horse, and called me to mount. Still I was at a loss to understand his proceedings, for I saw no signs of a caravan. Could he mean to take his revenge on me? Why did he travel at night through a country which he ought to have chosen day-time for? I did not understand enough Persian to be able to obtain an explanation, and did not wish to say anything more to the fellow about not keeping his contract, so I was obliged to go—and I did go.
With great anxiety I mounted my horse and ordered my guide, who was inclined to ride behind, to go on in front. I had no mind to be attacked from behind, and kept my hand constantly on my pistols. I listened to every sound, watched every movement of my guide, even the shadow of my own horse sometimes scared me; however, I did not turn back.
After a sharp ride of about half-an-hour, we came up with a large caravan train, which was guarded by half a dozen well-armed peasants. It really appeared that the place was very dangerous, and that my guide had been acquainted with the passing of a caravan. Nothing caused me more surprise on this occasion, than the indolence of these people. As they are accustomed to travel in the night during the hot season, they also continue the custom at other times, and pass through the most dangerous places, although the danger would be much less during the day.
After some hours we came to the Lake Oromia, which henceforth continued on our right side; on the left lay barren hills, ravines and mountains, extending for some miles, forming a most dreaded place. Morning brought us into another beautiful fruitful valley, studded with villages, the sight of which gave me courage to leave the caravan, and hasten on.
The Lake Oromia, from which the town takes its name, is more than sixty miles long, and in many places more than thirty wide. It appears closely surrounded by lofty mountains, although considerable levels intervene. Its water contains so much salt, that neither fish nor mollusca can live in it. It is a second Dead Sea—it is said that a human body cannot sink in it. Large patches of the shore are covered with thick, white saline incrustations, so that the people have only to separate the salt they want from the ground. Although the lake, and the country round it are very beautiful, they do not present a very attractive prospect, as the surface of the lake is not enlivened by any boats.
Since I had left the sandy deserts round Baghdad, I had not seen any camels, and thought that I should not see this animal again, as I was travelling northwards. To my astonishment, we met several trains of camels, and I learnt afterwards, that these animals were used as beasts of burden by the Kurds, as well as the Arabs. This is a proof that they are able to bear a colder climate; for in winter the snow drifts to a depth of several feet in the valleys. The camels in these districts are somewhat more robust, their feet are thicker, their hair closer and longer, their necks longer, and not nearly so slender, and their colour darker. I did not see any light-coloured ones.
The Kurds of the valleys employ beasts of burden for carrying their crops, as well as waggons, which are however very simple and clumsy. The body is formed of several long thin stems of trees bound together; the axles of shorter stems, with disks of thick board for wheels, of which each waggon has generally only two. Four oxen are yoked to these, each pair being led by a guide, who sits very oddly on the shaft between the yoke, with his back towards them.
Late in the evening, we reached Oromia safely, after a hard ride of more than sixteen hours. I had no letters to any of the missionaries, and with the exception of Mr. Wright, they were all absent. They lived with their wives and children in the country. However, Mr. Wright received me with true Christian friendship, and after many disagreeable days I again found comfort.
The first evening I laughed heartily when Mr. Wright told me in what manner the servant had informed him of my arrival. As I did not know enough of Persian to be able to tell the servant to announce me, I merely pointed to the stairs. He understood this, and went up to his master, saying that there was a woman below who could not speak any language. Afterwards I asked a servant for a glass of water, in English; he rushed up stairs as if he had been possessed, not, as I thought, to get what I wanted, but to tell his master that I spoke English.
Mr. Wright acquainted the other missionaries of my presence, and they were so good as to come and visit me. They also invited me to spend a few days with them in the country, but I accepted their friendly invitation for one day only, as I had already lost so much time on the road. They all advised me not to go any further alone; although they admitted that the most dangerous part of the journey was past, and recommended me to take with me some armed peasants when passing the mountains near Kutschié.
Mr. Wright was so good as to look out for a courageous and trusty guide. I paid double fare, in order to reach Tebris in four, instead of six days. In order to make the guide think that I was a poor pilgrim, I gave Mr. Wright the half of the agreed price, and begged him to pay it instead of myself, and also to say that he would be paid the other half by Mr. Stevens, the English consul.
I made as good use as possible of the day which I passed at Oromia. In the morning I visited the town, and afterwards I visited, with Mrs. Wright, several rich and poor families, in order to observe their mode of life.
The town contains 22,000 inhabitants, is surrounded by walls, but not closed by gates; it is possible to pass in and out at any hour of the night. It is built like all Turkish towns, with this exception—that the streets are rather broad, and kept clean. Outside the town are numerous large fruit and vegetable gardens, which are surrounded by very high walls; pretty dwelling-houses stand in the centre of the gardens.
The women here go closely veiled. They cover over their heads and breast with a white kerchief, in which thick impenetrable network is inserted, at the places opposite the eyes.
In the houses of the poorer classes two or three families live under one roof. They possess little more than straw mats, blankets, pillows, and a few cooking utensils, not to forget a large wooden box in which the meal, their chief property, is kept. Here as everywhere else where corn is cultivated, bread is the principal food of the common people. Every family bake twice daily, morning and evening.
Many of the small houses have very pretty courts, which are planted with flowers, vines, and shrubs, and looked like gardens.
The dwellings of the wealthy are lofty, airy, and spacious; the reception rooms have a large number of windows, and are covered with carpets. I saw no divans, people always lie upon the carpets. As we made the visits without being invited, we found the women in very plain coloured cotton dresses, of course, made in their own fashion.
In the afternoon I rode with the missionaries to their large country-house, which is situated about six miles from the town, on some low hills. The valley through which we rode was very large, and altogether well cultivated and delightful. Although it is said to lie about 4,000 feet above the level of the sea, cotton, castor-oil plants, vines, tobacco, and every kind of fruit grow here as in South Germany. The castor-oil plant, indeed, is not more than four feet high, and the cotton but one foot; they produce, however, rather abundantly. Several villages are half hid in orchards. I came into this country at a fortunate time: there were beautiful peaches, apricots, apples, grapes, etc., true fruits of my native country, of which I had long been deprived.
The house of the missionary society is most charmingly situated; it commands a view of the whole valley, the town, the low range of hills, and the mountains. The house itself is large, and furnished with every possible convenience, so that I thought I was in the country-house of wealthy private people, and not under the roof of simple disciples of Christ. There were four women here, and a whole troop of children, great and small. I passed several very pleasant hours among them, and was heartily sorry that I was obliged to take leave of them at 9 in the evening.
Several native girls were also introduced to me who were educated by the wives of the missionaries. They spoke and wrote a little English, and were well acquainted with geography. I cannot avoid, on this occasion, making some observations with regard to the missionaries, whose mode of life and labours I had frequent opportunities of observing during my journey. I met with missionaries in Persia, China, and India, and everywhere found them living in a very different manner to what I had imagined.
In my opinion the missionaries were almost, if not complete martyrs, and I thought that they were so absorbed with zeal and the desire to convert the heathen, that, like the disciples of Christ, quite forgetting their comforts and necessaries, they dwelt with them under one roof, and ate from one dish, etc. Alas! these were pictures and representations which I had gathered out of books; in reality the case was very different. They lead the same kind of life as the wealthy: they have handsome dwellings, which are fitted up with luxurious furniture, and every convenience. They recline upon easy divans, while their wives preside at the tea-table, and the children attack the cakes and sweetmeats heartily; indeed their position is pleasanter and freer from care than that of most people; their occupation is not very laborious, and their income is certain, whatever may be the national or political condition of their country.
In places where several missionaries reside meetings are held three or four times a week. These meetings or assemblies are supposed to be for the transaction of business; but are not much other than soirées, at which the ladies and children make their appearance in elegant full dress. One missionary receives his friends at breakfast, a second at dinner, the third at tea, several equipages and a number of servants stand in the court-yard.
Business is also attended to: the gentleman generally retire for half an hour or so; but the greater part of the time is passed in mere social amusement.
I do not think that it can be easy to gain the confidence of the natives in this way. Their foreign dress, and elegant mode of life, make the people feel too strongly the difference of rank, and inspire them with fear and reserve rather than confidence and love. They do not so readily venture to look up to people of wealth or rank, and the missionaries have consequently to exert themselves for some time until this timidity is overcome. The missionaries say that it is necessary to make this appearance, in order to create an impression and command respect; but I think that respect may be inspired by noble conduct, and that virtue will attract men more than external splendour.
Many of the missionaries believe that they might effect a great deal by preaching and issuing religious tracts in the native language in the towns and villages. They give the most attractive report of the multitude of people who crowd to hear their preaching and receive their tracts, and it might reasonably be thought that, according to their representations, at least half of their hearers would become converts to Christianity; but unfortunately the listening and receiving tracts is as good as no proof at all. Would not Chinese, Indian, or Persian priests have just as great troops of hearers if they appeared in their respective national costume in England or France, and preached in the language of those countries? Would not people flock round them? would they not receive the tracts given out gratis, even if they could not read them?
I have made the minutest inquiries in all places respecting the results of missions, and have always heard that a baptism is one of the greatest rarities. The few Christians in India, who here and there form villages of twenty or thirty families, have resulted principally from orphan children, who had been adopted and brought up by the missionaries; but even these require to be supplied with work, and comfortably attended to, in order to prevent them from falling back into their superstitions.
Preaching and tracts are insufficient to make religious doctrine understandable, or to shake the superstitions which have been imbibed in infancy. Missionaries must live among the people as fathers or friends, labour with them—in short, share their trials and pleasures, and draw them towards them by an exemplary and unpretending mode of life, and gradually instruct them in a way they are capable of understanding. They ought not to be married to Europeans for the following reasons:—European girls who are educated for missionaries frequently make this their choice only that they be provided for as soon as possible. If a young European wife has any children, if she is weak or delicate, they are then unable to attend any longer to their calling, and require a change of air, or even a journey to Europe. The children also are weak, and must be taken there, at latest in their seventh year. Their father accompanies them, and makes use of this pretext to return to Europe for some time. If it is not possible to undertake this journey, they go to some mountainous country, where it is cooler, or he takes his wife and family to visit a Mela. {287} At the same time, it must be remembered that these journeys are not made in a very simple manner: as mine has been, for instance; the missionary surrounds himself with numerous conveniences; he has palanquins carried by men, pack-horses, or camels, with tents, beds, culinary, and table utensils; servants and maids in sufficient number. And who pays for all this? Frequently poor credulous souls in Europe and North America, who often deny themselves the necessaries of life, that their little savings may be squandered in this way in distant parts of the world.
If the missionaries were married to natives, the greater part of these expenses and requirements would be unnecessary; there would be few sick wives, the children would be strong and healthy, and would not require to be taken to Europe. Schools might be established here and there for their education, although not in such a luxurious manner as those at Calcutta.
I hope that my views may not be misunderstood; I have great respect for missionaries, and all whom I have known were honourable men, and good fathers; I am also convinced that there are many learned men among them, who make valuable contributions to history and philosophy, but whether they thus fulfil their proper object is another question. I should consider that a missionary has other duties than those of a philosopher.
For my own part, I can only express my obligations to the missionaries; everywhere they showed me the greatest kindness and attention. Their mode of life certainly struck me, because I involuntarily associate with the name “missionary” those men who at first went out into the world, without support, to diffuse the doctrines of Christ, taking nothing with them but a pilgrim’s staff.
Before concluding my description of Oromia, I must remark that this neighbourhood is considered to be the birth-place of Zoroaster, who is said to have lived 5,500 years before the birth of Christ, and was the founder of the sect of Magi, or fire-worshippers.
On the 1st of August, I rode ten hours to the village of Kutschié, which lies near the Lake Oromia; we seldom caught sight of the lake, although we were always very near to it all day. We passed through large, fertile villages, which would have presented a charming prospect if they had not been situated between barren and naked hills and mountains.
I had not enjoyed so pleasant a day during the whole journey from Mósul, or from Baghdad. My guide was a remarkably good fellow, very attentive to me, and provided everything carefully when we reached Kutschié; he took me to a very cleanly peasant’s cottage, among some excellent people; they immediately laid down a nice carpet for me on a small terrace, brought me a basin of water to wash, and a quantity of large black mulberries on a lacquered plate. Afterwards I had some strong soup with meat, fat, sour milk, and good bread, all in clean vessels; but what was better than all, the people retired as soon as they had set the food before me, and did not stare at me as if I was a strange animal. When I offered to pay these good people, they would not take anything; I had no opportunity of rewarding them until the following morning, when I took two men of the family as guard across the mountains, and gave them twice as much as they are generally paid; they thanked me, with touching cordiality, and wished me safety and good fortune on my journey.
2nd August. It occupied three hours to pass the most dangerous part of these desolate mountains. My two armed men would not, indeed, have afforded me much protection against a band of robbers, although they were the means of making the journey less terrible than it would have been if I had gone with my old guide alone. We met several large caravans, but all going towards Oromia.
When we had crossed the mountains, the two men left us. We entered into enormous valleys, which seemed to have been forgotten by nature, and deserted by man. In my opinion, we were not in any degree out of the danger, and I was right; for, as we were passing three ruined cottages in this barren valley, several fellows rushed out upon us, laid hold of our horses’ reins, and commenced rummaging my luggage. I expected nothing but an order to dismount, and already saw my little property lost. They talked with my guide, who told them the tale which I had imposed upon him—that I was a poor pilgrim, and that the English consuls or missionaries paid all my travelling expenses. My dress, the smallness of my baggage, and being alone, agreed perfectly with this; they believed him, and my silent supplicative look, and let me go; they even asked me if I would have some water, of which there is a scarcity in these villages. I begged them for a draught, and so we parted good friends. Nevertheless I was for some time fearful that they might repent their generosity and follow us.
We came to the shores of the lake again today, and continued to travel for some time at its side. After a ride of fourteen hours, we rested at a chan in the village of Schech-Vali.
3rd August. The oppressive sense of fear was now at an end. We passed through peaceful inhabited valleys, where the people were working in the fields, carrying home corn, tending cattle, etc.
During the hot noon hours we rested at Dise-halil, a rather considerable town, with very clean streets; the principal street is intersected by a clear brook, and the court-yards of the houses resemble gardens. Here also I saw outside the town a great number of very large gardens surrounded by high walls.
From the number of chans, this town would appear to be very much visited. In the small street through which we passed, I counted more than half a dozen. We dismounted at one of them, and I was quite astonished at the conveniences which I found there. The stalls were covered; the sleeping-places for the drivers were on pretty walled terraces; and the rooms for travellers, although destitute of all furniture, were very clean, and furnished with stoves. The chans were open to every one, and there is nothing to pay for using them; at the utmost, a small trifle is given to the overseer, who provides the travellers’ meals.
In this respect, the Persians, Turks, and the so-called uncultivated people, are much more generous than we are. In India, for example, where the English build bungalows, travellers must pay a rupee per night, or even for an hour, which does not include any provision for the driver or the animals: they are obliged to take their rest in the open air. The travellers who are not Christians are not allowed to come into most of the bungalows at all; in a few they are admitted, but only when the rooms are not required by a Christian; if, however, one should arrive at night, the poor unbeliever is obliged to turn out for him without pity. This humane custom extends also to the open bungalows, which consist only of a roof and three wooden walls. In the countries of the unbelievers, however, those who come first have the place, whether they are Christians, Turks, or Arabs; indeed, I am firmly convinced, that if all the places were occupied by unbelievers, and a Christian was to come, they would make room for him.
In the afternoon, we went as far as Ali-Schach, a considerable place, with a handsome chan.
We here met with three travellers, who were also going to Tebris. My guide agreed to travel with them, and that we should start at night. Their society was not very agreeable to me, for they were well armed, and looked very savage. I should have preferred waiting until daybreak, and going without them, but my guide assured me that they were honest people; and trusting more to my good fortune than his word, I mounted my horse about 1 o’clock at night.
4th August. I soon lost my fear, for we frequently met small parties of three or four persons, who would scarcely have ventured to travel at night if the road had been dangerous. Large caravans also, of several hundred camels, passed us and took up the road in such a way, that we were obliged to wait for half an hour to allow them to pass.
Towards noon we entered a valley in which lay a town, which was certainly large, but of such an unpretending appearance, that I did not at once inquire what was its name. The nearer we approached the more ruined it appeared. The walls were half fallen, the streets and squares full of heaps of rubbish, and many of the houses were in ruins; it seemed as if a pestilence or an enemy had destroyed it. At last I asked its name, and could hardly believe that I had understood it rightly when I was told that it was Tebris.
My guide conducted me to the house of Mr. Stevens, the English consul, who, to my vexation, was not in the town, but ten miles away in the country. A servant, however, told me that he would go directly to a gentleman who could speak English. In a very short time he came, and his first questions were: “How did you come here, alone? Have you been robbed? Have you parted from your company and only left them in the town?” But when I gave him my pass, and explained everything to him, he appeared scarcely to believe me. He thought it bordered upon the fabulous that a woman should have succeeded, without any knowledge of the language, in penetrating through such countries and such people. I also could not be too thankful for the evident protection which Providence had afforded me. I felt myself as happy and lively as if I had taken a new lease of my life.
Doctor Cassolani showed me to some rooms in Mr. Stevens’s house, and said that he would immediately send a messenger to him, and I might meanwhile make known my wants to him.
When I expressed to him my astonishment at the miserable appearance and ugly entrance to this town, the second in the country, he told me that the town could not be well seen from the side at which I came in, and that the part which I saw was not considered the town, but was chiefly old and, for the most part, deserted.
DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN—THE TOWN—PERIOD OF FASTING—BEHMEN MIRZA—ANECDOTES OF THE PERSIAN GOVERNMENT—INTRODUCTION TO THE VICEROY AND HIS WIFE—BEHMEN MIRZA’S WIVES—VISIT TO A PERSIAN LADY—PERSECUTION OF THE LOWER CLASSES, OF THE CHRISTIANS, AND OF THE JEWS—DEPARTURE.
Tebris, or Tauris, is the capital of the province of Aderbeidschan, and the residence of the successor to the throne of Persia, who bears the title of Viceroy. It is situated in a treeless valley on the rivers Piatscha and Atschi, and contains 160,000 inhabitants. The town is handsomer than Teheran or Ispahan, possesses a number of silk looms and leather manufactories, and is said to be one of the principal seats of Asiatic commerce.
The streets are tolerably broad, and are also kept clean, there is in each an underground water canal with openings at regular intervals for the purpose of dipping out water.
There is no more to be seen of the houses than in any other Oriental town. Lofty walls with low entrances, without windows, and with the fronts always facing the court-yards, which are planted with flowers and small trees, and generally adjoining a beautiful garden. The reception rooms are large and lofty, with whole rows of windows, forming a complete wall of glass. The decoration of the rooms is not elegant, generally nothing beyond some few carpets; European furniture and articles of luxury are rare.
There are no handsome mosques, palaces, or monuments, either ancient or modern, with the exception of the partly ruined mosque of Ali-Schach, which, however, will not bear comparison in any respect with those in India.
The new bazaar is very handsome, its lofty, broad covered streets and passages forcibly called to my remembrance the bazaar at Constantinople; but it had a more pleasant appearance as it is newer. The merchant’s stalls also are larger, and the wares, although not so magnificent and rich as some travellers represent, are more tastefully displayed and can be more easily overlooked, especially the carpets, fruits, and vegetables. The cookshops also looked very inviting, and the various dishes seemed so palatable and diffused such a savoury odour, that I could have sat down with pleasure and partaken of them. The shoe department, on the contrary, presented nothing attractive; there were only goods of the plainest description exposed; while in Constantinople the most costly shoes and slippers, richly embroidered with gold, and even ornamented with pearls and precious stones, are to be seen under glass cases.
I had arrived at Tebris at a rather unfavourable time—namely, the fast month. From sunrise to sunset nothing is eaten, nobody leaves the house, there are neither visits nor company—indeed, nothing but praying. This ceremony is so strictly observed that invalids frequently fall victims to it, as they will take neither medicine nor food during the day; they believe that if they were to eat only a mouthful, they would forfeit the salvation to be obtained by fasting. Many of the more enlightened make an exception to this custom in cases of illness; however, in such an instance the physician must send a written declaration to the priest, in which he explains the necessity of taking medicine and food. If the priest puts his seal to this document, pardon is obtained. I am not aware whether this granting of indulgences was taken by the Mahomedans from the Christians, or the reverse. Girls are obliged to keep these fasts after their tenth year, and boys after their fifteenth.
It was to the courteousness of Dr. Cassolani, and his intimacy with some of the principal families in Tebris, that I was indebted for my introduction to them, and even for my presentation at court, notwithstanding the strict observance of the fast.
There was no viceroy in Tebris until about six months since, but only a governor; the present reigning schach, Nesr-I-Din, raised the province of Aderbeidschan to a vice-royalty, and decreed that every eldest son of the future inheritor of the empire should reside here as viceroy until he came to the throne.
The last governor of Tebris, Behmen Mirza, the schach’s brother, was a remarkably intelligent and just man. He brought the province of Aderbeidschan into a flourishing condition in a few years, and everywhere established order and security. This soon excited the envy of the prime minister Haggi-Mirza-Aagassi; he urged the schach to recall his brother, and represented to him that he would engage the affections of the people too much, and that he might at last make himself king.
For a long time the schach paid no attention to these insinuations, for he loved his brother sincerely; but the minister did not rest until he had attained his wishes. Behmen Mirza, who knew all that was going on at court, hastened to Teheran for the purpose of exculpating himself before the schach. The latter assured him of his love and confidence, and told him, candidly, that he might retain his office if the minister would consent to it, and recommended him to endeavour to gain his favour.
Behmen Mirza learnt, however, through his friends, that the minister entertained an inveterate hatred towards him, and that he ran the risk of being deprived of his sight, or even made away with altogether. They advised him to lose no time, but quit the country immediately. He followed their advice, returned quickly to Tebris, gathered his valuables together, and fled with a part of his family to the neighbouring Russian dominions. Having arrived there, he appealed to the Emperor of Russia by letter, soliciting his protection, which was magnanimously afforded to him. The emperor wrote to the schach declaring that the prince was no longer a Persian subject, and that therefore every persecution of himself or his family must cease; he also provided him with a pretty palace near Tiflis, sent him costly presents, and, as I was informed, allowed him a yearly pension of 20,000 ducats.
It may be seen from this circumstance that the minister completely governed the schach; indeed he succeeded to such an extent, that the schach honoured him as a prophet, and unconditionally carried out all his suggestions. He was, on one occasion, desirous of effecting some very important object. He told the schach, at a morning visit, that he woke in the night and felt himself being carried upwards. He went up higher and higher, and finally entered heaven, where he saw and spoke with the king’s father, who requested him to describe the government of his son. The deceased king was greatly rejoiced to hear of his good conduct, and recommended that he should continue to go on thus. The delighted king, who had cordially loved his father, did not cease from asking further questions, and the artful minister always contrived to bring in at the end of his answers—“It was only this or that thing that the father wished to see done,” and of course the good son fulfilled his father’s wishes, not for one moment doubting the assertions of his minister.
The king is said to be rather passionate, and when in such a state of mind, will order the immediate execution of an offender. The minister, on the other hand, possesses at least enough sense of justice to endeavour to stay the sentence of death upon men whom he does not fear. He has, therefore, given orders that when such a circumstance occurs, he is to be sent for immediately, and that the preparations for the execution are to be delayed until he comes. He makes his appearance then as if accidentally, and asks what is going on. The enraged sovereign tells him that he is about to have an offender executed. The minister agrees with him completely, and steps to the window to consult the sky, clouds, and sun. Presently he cries out that it would be better to postpone the execution until the following day, as the clouds, sun, or sky at the present moment are not favourable to it, and that some misfortune to the king might probably result from it. In the meanwhile, the king’s rage abates, and he consents that the condemned should be taken away, and generally, that he shall be set free; the next morning the whole affair is forgotten.
The following circumstance is also interesting; the king had once a particular hatred for one of his town governors, and ordered him to the capital, with the intention of having him strangled. The minister, who was a friend of the governor, was desirous of saving him, and did so in the following manner. He said to the king, “Sire, I bid you farewell, I am going to Mecca.” The king, greatly grieved at the prospect of losing his favourite for so long (the journey to Mecca takes at least a year), hastily asked the reason of his making this journey. “You know, sire, that I am childless, and that I have adopted the governor whom you wish to have executed; I shall then lose my son, and I wish to fetch another from Mecca.” The king answered that he knew nothing of this, but as such was the case he would not have him executed, but allow him to retain his office.
The king has a great affection for his mother. When she visited him, he always rose and continued standing, while she sat down. The minister was much annoyed at this mark of respect, and said to him, “You are king, and your mother must stand before you.” And he ultimately succeeded according to his wish. If, however, the king’s mother comes at a time when the minister is not present, her son pays her this respect. He then gives strict orders to his people not to say anything of it to the minister.
I was told these and other things by a very trustworthy person, and they may serve to give my readers some slight idea of the system of government in Persia.
I was presented to the viceroy a few days after my arrival. I was conducted one afternoon by Dr. Cassolani to one of the royal summer-houses. The house was situated in a small garden, which was surrounded by another larger one, both enclosed by very high walls. In the outer garden there were, besides meadows and fruit trees, nothing deserving of much notice, except a number of tents, in which the military were encamped. The soldiers wore the usual Persian dress, with the single exception that the officers on duty had a sword, and the soldiers a musket. They only appear in uniform on the most rare occasions, and then they are, in some respects, like European soldiers.
Several eunuchs received us at the entrance of the small garden. They conducted us to an unpretending looking house, one story high, at the end of a field of flowers. I should never have looked for the country seat of the successor to the Persian throne in this house; but such it was. At the narrow entrance of the little house were two small flights of stairs, one of which led to the reception-room of the viceroy, the other to that of his wife. The doctor entered the former and several female slaves took me to the viceroy’s wife. When I reached the top of the stairs, I took off my shoes, and entered a small, comfortable room, the walls of which consisted almost entirely of windows. The viceroy’s wife, who was only fifteen years of age, sat upon a plain easy chair, not far from her stood a middle-aged woman, the duenna of the harem, and an easy chair was placed for me opposite the princess.
I was fortunate enough to be remarkably well received. Dr. Cassolani had described me as an authoress, adding that I intended to publish the experiences of my journey. The princess inquired whether I should mention her also, and when she was answered in the affirmative, she determined to show herself in full dress, in order to give me an idea of the gorgeous and costly dress of her country.
The young princess wore trousers of thick silk, which were so full of plaits that they stood out stiff, like the hooped petticoats of our good old times. These trousers are from twenty to five and twenty yards wide, and reach down to the ankle. The upper part of the body was covered as far as the hips by a bodice, which, however, did not fit close to the body. The sleeves were long and narrow. The corset resembled that of the time of the hooped petticoats; it was made of thick silk, richly and tastefully embroidered round the corners with coloured silk and gold. A very short white silk chemise was to be seen under the corset. On her head she wore a three-cornered white kerchief, extending in front round the face, and fastened under the chin; behind, it fell down as far as the shoulders. This kerchief was also very handsomely embroidered with gold and silk. The jewellery consisted of precious stones and pearls of great purity and size; but they had not much effect, as they were not set in gold, but simply perforated and strung upon a gold thread, which was fastened above the head kerchief, and came down under the chin.
The princess had on black silk open-worked gloves, over which were several finger rings. Round the wrists sparkled costly bracelets of precious stones and pearls. On her feet she wore white silk stockings.
She was not remarkably beautiful; her cheek bones were rather too prominent; but altogether her appearance was very attractive. Her eyes were large, handsome, and intellectual, her figure pretty, and her age—fifteen years.
Her face was a very delicate white and red; and the eyebrows were covered with blue streaks, which, in my opinion, rather disfigured than adorned them. On the temple a little of her brilliant black hair was to be seen.
Our conversation was carried on by signs. Dr. Cassolani, who spoke Persian very well, was not allowed to cross the threshold today, and the princess had received me, consequently, unveiled. During this stupid interview, I found time enough to look at the distant view from the windows. It was here that I first saw how extensive the town was, and what an abundance of gardens it possessed. The latter are, indeed, its peculiar ornament, for it contains no fine buildings; and the large valley in which it lies, together with the mountains round, are naked and barren, and present no attractions. I expressed my surprise at the great size of the town and the number of the gardens.
Towards the end of the audience, a quantity of fruits and sweetmeats were brought, of which, however, I alone partook—it being fast time.
Leaving the princess, I was conducted to her husband, the viceroy. He was seventeen, and received me seated upon an easy chair at a bow-window. I had to thank my character of authoress, that a chair was placed ready for me. The walls of the large room were panelled with wood, and ornamented with several mirrors, gilt-work, and oil-paintings of heads and flowers. In the middle of the saloon stood two large empty bedsteads.
The prince wore a European dress: trousers of fine white cloth, with broad gold lace; a dark blue coat, the collar, facings, and corners of which were richly embroidered with gold; white silk gloves and stockings. His head was covered by a Persian fur cap nearly a yard high. This is not, however, his ordinary dress; he is said to change his mode of dressing oftener than his wife, and sometimes to wear the Persian costume, sometimes to envelop himself in cashmere shawls, as his fancy may be.
I should have supposed that he was at least twenty-two. He has a pale, tawny complexion, and, altogether, no attractive, amiable, or intellectual expression; never looks straightforward and openly at you, and his glance is savage and repulsive. I pitied, in my mind, all those who were his subjects. I would rather be the wife of a poor peasant than his favourite princess.
The prince put several questions to me, which Dr. Cassolani, who stood a few paces from us, interpreted. They were nothing remarkable, chiefly common-places about my journey. The prince can read and write in his mother tongue, and has, as I was told, some idea of geography and history. He receives a few European newspapers and periodicals from which the interpreter has to make extracts, and read to him. His opinion of the great revolutions of the time was, that the European monarchs might have been very good, but they were most remarkably stupid to allow themselves to be so easily driven from the throne. He considered that the result would have been very different if they had had plenty of people strangled. As far as regards execution and punishment, he far exceeds his father; and, unfortunately, has no controlling minister at his side. His government is said to be that of a child; one moment he orders something to be done, and an hour afterwards countermands it. But what can be expected from a youth of seventeen, who has received little or no education; was married at fifteen, and, two years afterwards, takes the unlimited control of a large province with a revenue of a million tomans (£500,000), and with every means of gratifying his desires.
The prince has at present only one regular wife, although he is allowed to have four; however, he has no scarcity of handsome female friends. It is the custom in Persia, that when the king, or the successor to the throne, hears that any one of his subjects has a handsome daughter or sister, he demands her. The parents or relations are greatly rejoiced at this command, for if the girl is really handsome, she is, in any case, well provided for. If, after some time, she no longer pleases the king or prince, she is married to some minister or rich man; but, if she has a child, she is immediately considered as the king’s or prince’s acknowledged wife, and remains permanently at court. When, on the contrary, a girl does not please the regent at first sight, her family are very much disappointed, and consider themselves unfortunate. She is, in this case, sent home again immediately, her reputation for beauty is lost, and she has not, after this, much chance of making a good match.
The princess is already a mother, but, unfortunately, only of a daughter. She is, for the present, the chief wife of the prince, because no other female has given birth to a son; but whoever brings the first son into the world will then take her place: she will be honoured as the mother of the heir to the throne. In consequence of this custom, the children are unfortunately liable to the danger of being poisoned; for any woman who has a child excites the envy of all those who are childless; and this is more particularly the case when the child is a boy. When the princess accompanied her husband to Tebris, she left her little daughter behind, under the protection of its grandfather, the Schach of Persia, in order to secure it from her rivals.
When the viceroy rides out, he is preceded by several hundred soldiers. They are followed by servants with large sticks, who call upon the people to bow before the powerful ruler. The prince is surrounded by officers, military, and servants, and the procession is closed by more soldiers. The prince only is mounted, all the rest are on foot.
The prince’s wives are also permitted to ride out at times, but they are obliged to be thickly veiled, and entirely surrounded by eunuchs, several of whom hasten on before, to tell the people that the wives of the monarch are on the road. Every one must then leave the streets, and retire into the houses and bye-lanes.
The wives of the banished prince, Behmen, who were left behind, learnt, through Dr. Cassolani, that I thought of going to Tiflis. They requested me to visit them, that I might be able to tell the prince that I had seen them and left them well. The doctor conducted me into their presence. He had been the friend and physician of the prince, who was not one of the fanatic class, and allowed him the entrée to the females.
Nothing very worthy of notice took place at this visit. The house and garden were plain, and the women had wrapped themselves in large mantles, as the doctor was present, some, indeed, covered a part of their faces while speaking with him. Several of them were young, although they all appeared older than they really were. One, who was twenty-two, I should have taken to be at least thirty. A rather plump dark beauty of sixteen was also introduced to me as the latest addition to the harem. She had been bought at Constantinople only a short time since. The women appeared to treat her with great good-nature; they told me that they took considerable pains to teach her Persian.
Among the children there was a remarkably beautiful girl of six, whose pure and delicate countenance was fortunately not yet disfigured by paint. This child, as well as the others, was dressed in the same way as the women; and I remarked that the Persian dress was really, as I had been told, rather indecorous. The corset fell back at every quick movement; the silk or gauze chemise, which scarcely reached over the breast, dragged up so high that the whole body might be seen as far as the loins. I observed the same with the female servants, who were engaged in making tea or other occupations; every motion disarranged their dress.
My visit to Haggi-Chefa-Hanoum, one of the principal and most-cultivated women in Tebris, was far more interesting. Even at the entrance of the court-yard and house, the presence of a well-regulating mind might be perceived. I had never seen so much cleanliness and taste in any Oriental house. I should have taken the court-yard for the garden, if I had not afterwards seen the latter from the windows. The gardens here are, indeed, inferior to ours, but are magnificent when compared with those at Baghdad. They have flowers, rows of vines and shrubs, and between the fruit-trees pleasant basins of water and luxuriant grass-plots.
The reception-room was very large and lofty; the front and back (of which the former looked out into the court-yard, the latter into the garden), consisted of windows, the panes of which were in very small six and eight-sided pieces, framed in gilded wood; on the door-posts there was also some gilding. The floor was covered with carpeting; and at the place where the mistress of the house sat, another piece of rich carpet was laid over. In Persia, there are no divans, but only thick round pillows for leaning upon.
Intimation had previously been given of my visit. I found a large party of women and young girls assembled, who had probably been attracted here by their curiosity to see a European woman. Their dress was costly, like that of the princess, but there was a difference in the jewellery. Several among them were very handsome, although they had rather broad foreheads, and too prominent cheek-bones. The most charming features of the Persians are their eyes, which are remarkable, as well for their size as their beautiful form and animated expression. Of course, there was no want of paint on their skins and eye-brows.
This party of women was the most agreeable and unconstrained that I ever found in Oriental houses. I was able to converse in French with the mistress of the house, by the help of her son, of about eighteen, who had received an excellent education in Constantinople. Not only the son, but also the mother and the other women, were read and well-informed. Dr. Cassolani, moreover, assured me that the girls of rich families could nearly all read and write. They are, in this respect, far in advance of the Turks.
The mistress of the house, her son, and myself, sat upon chairs, the rest squatted down on carpets round us. A table, the first that I had seen in a Persian house, was covered with a handsome cloth, and set out with the most magnificent fruits, sherbets, and various delicacies, which had been prepared by my host herself; among the sweetmeats were sugared almonds and fruits, which not only appeared inviting, but tasted deliciously.
The sweet melons and peaches were just in their prime during my stay at Tebris. They were so delicious, that it may well be said Persia is their native country. The melons have more frequently a whitish, or greenish, than a yellow pulp. They may be eaten entirely, with the exception of the outermost thin rind; and, if it were possible for anything to exceed sugar in sweetness, it would be these melons. The peaches are also juicy, sweet, and aromatic.
Before leaving Tebris, I must say a few words about the people. The complexion of the common men is rather more than sunburnt; among the upper classes, white is the prevailing colour of the skin. They all have black hair and eyes. Their figures are tall and powerful, the features very marked—especially the nose—and the look rather wild. The women, both of the upper and lower classes, are uncommonly thickly veiled when they go out. The better-dressed men wear, out of doors, a very long mantle of dark cloth with slashed sleeves, which reach to the ground; a girdle or shawl surrounds their waist, and their head-dress consists of a pointed black fur cap more than a foot high, which is made of the skins of unborn sheep. The women of the labouring class do not appear to have much to do; during my journey, I saw only a few at work in the fields, and I noticed also in the town that all the hard work is done by the men.
In Tebris, as well as throughout the whole of Persia, the Jews, semi-Mahomedans, and Christians, are intolerably hated. Three months since, the Jews and Christians in Tebris were in great danger. Several crowds of people gathered together and marched through the quarter where these people dwelt, when they commenced plundering and destroying the houses, threatening the inhabitants with death, and, in some cases, even putting their threats into execution. Fortunately, this horrible proceeding was immediately made known to the governor of the town; and he, being a brave and determined man, lost not a moment’s time even to throw his kaftan over his house-dress, but hastened out into the midst of the crowd, and succeeded, by means of a powerful speech, in dispersing the people.
On arriving at Tebris, I expressed my desire to continue my journey from here to Tiflis by way of Natschivan and Erivan. It appeared at first that there was not much hope of its possibility, as, since the late political disturbances in Europe, the Russian government, like the Chinese, had strictly prohibited the entrance of any foreigners; however, Mr. Stevens promised to make use of all his power with the Russian consul, Mr. Anitschow, in my favour. I was indebted to this, together with my sex and age, for being made an exception. I received from the Russian consul not only the permission, but also several kind letters of introduction to people at Natschivan, Erivan, and Tiflis.
I was advised to ride from Tebris to Natschivan with post-horses, and to take a servant with me as far as that place. I did so, and commenced my journey at 9 o’clock in the morning of the 11th of August. Several gentlemen, whose acquaintance I had made in Tebris, accompanied me about a mile out of the town, and we encamped on the bank of a beautiful little river, and partook of a cold breakfast. Then I began my journey alone, indeed, but composedly and with good courage, for now I thought I was entering a Christian country, beneath the sceptre of a civilized, European, law and order-loving monarch.