Almost as soon as I arrived in Julfa I received a visit from the prince’s hakim-bashi, Mirza Abdul Wahab. This gentleman, a native of Kashan, had received his medical education in Paris, and was an M.D. of its University. He described his life in Ispahan as dull in the extreme, that he was never off duty save when the Prince-Governor was asleep, and that his anxieties on account of the vagaries of his charge were great. The Mirza had spent seven years in France, and had married there; he had also two native wives (his French wife afterwards came to Teheran, but soon returned to France). He complained of the many hours he had to stand, etiquette forbidding any other attitude in the prince’s presence. He told me that he had to read poetry to his Royal Highness for many hours each day.

“Not that I mind reading poetry,” said he, “but no one listens, which is provoking in the extreme.”

I was very glad to have an acquaintance with whom I could converse, for of course the hakim-bashi spoke French fluently. The appointment as physician to the eldest son of the king and Governor of Ispahan is a high employ, and the doctor hoped it would lead to better things; but he did not like the being away from the capital. He became shortly a Khan.

He invited me to call on the prince, and told me that his Royal Highness would receive me at half-past eight A.M. the next day, or, as he phrased it, two hours after sunrise. I promised to be punctual, and duly presented myself at the appointed hour.

I passed through a garden crowded with soldiers, servants, persons having petitions to make, and the usual hangers-on of a great man and his train. In a crowded outer room sat the Minister (or real Governor), Mahommed Ali Khan, under whose tutelage the Zil-es-Sultan is. The prince himself, being a mere youth, has no real power, and everything is done by Mahommed Ali Khan. The hakim-bashi now met me, and conducted me past a sentry into the private apartment of the prince.

I took off my goloshes at the door, keeping my hat on, and making a salute. The doctor introduced me in a few words, and the prince, a good-looking youth of about eighteen years, motioned me smilingly to a chair which had been placed for me opposite him. I asked after his health in French, but he insisted on my talking in Persian, and was much amused at the hash I made of it. He was a fine, good-humoured youth, full of spirits.

After the first few minutes he threw off all his air of dignity and talked and laughed merrily, asking many questions as to the manners of Europeans, the Queen, climate of England, etc. He then gave me his likeness, and told me that he photographed himself, which was the case. I was regaled with tea, and took my leave, breakfasting in the town with the hakim-bashi at his residence.

Here I saw for the first time the administration of justice in Persia. The doctor was given the charge of the Jews of Ispahan: the Jews had attended in a large crowd to complain of extortions practised upon them by the soldiers who stood sentry at his gate. These men, not content with exacting small presents from the poor people, had insulted the wife and daughter of one of their number and severely beaten them.

As we sat smoking the kalian at the open window, the crowd of some hundred Jewish men and women shrieked and gesticulated; while the two accused soldiers, who stood with the doctor’s servants, vehemently protested their innocence. The hakim-bashi shouted, so did the accused, so did the accusers, who wept, beat on their heads, and prepared apparently to rend their already ragged garments.

“Somebody must be beaten,” said the doctor, “and these Jews are undoubtedly horribly persecuted.”

When the shouting was at its highest, the doctor called to the sergeant of infantry and whispered in his ear. The two soldiers turned pale, and the Jews proceeded to implore blessings on the head of the doctor.

Presently a pole some eight feet long, with a transverse handle at either end and a loop of rope in the middle, was produced, and, kicking off their boots, the two soldiers lay down on the ground, and each raised a foot; but the doctor was not to be appeased so easily, and insisted on both feet of each man going into the loop. On this being done, the noose was tightened by turning the pole by means of the handles, and the soles of the soldiers’ feet were now upwards, and a fair mark; two other soldiers held the ends of the pole, which is termed a “fellek.”

The doctor now adjured the men to confess, as, if they did not, as he put it to them, he should have to thrash them till they did, and then have to punish them for the offence itself; whereas, if they confessed, there would be only one beating and accounts would be clear.

Both men confessed, though the value of a confession under such circumstances may be doubted. Then the doctor’s servants drew from his hauz a huge bundle of sticks some five feet long; they were ordinary willow wands, switchy, and about twice the thickness of the thumb at the butt; the bark was left on, and it appeared that they were kept in water to prevent their breaking too easily.

Four of the soldiers now seized each half-a-dozen wands, and, taking one in their right hands, awaited the signal. “Bezan!” (“Lay on!”) exclaimed the hakim-bashi, and they proceeded to thrash the bare soles of their comrades with the sticks; at first they struck fair on the feet, but whenever the doctor’s eye was not on them, they broke the stick over the “fellek” and substituted a fresh one.

The men now roared for mercy; some hundred sticks had been broken over their feet, and, taking an average of four blows for each stick, they had received four hundred, or two hundred each.

“Amān Agha!” “Mercy, Lord!” “Oh, hakim-bashi!” “Oh, merciless Jews!” “Oh, Mussulmans!” “Oh, doctor, sahib!” “Oh, Lord, without mercy!” “Oh, rascal Jews!” “Sons of dog fathers!” “Mer—cy!”

The hakim-bashi now addressed them—“Rascals, do you know now that you are not to oppress the king’s subjects?”

“Ah,” replied one man, “but Jews—” He had better have been silent, for the hakim-bashi raised his hand, and the beating recommenced. I now interceded, and the men were led off, limping.

I asked the doctor if such beatings would not lame the men.

He replied, “Not in the least; they will be all right in two days, if a little tender to-morrow. I have myself had quite as bad a beating from my achōn (schoolmaster) when a boy. There is no degradation in the punishment; all are liable to it, from the Prime Minister downwards. What you have seen is merely a warning; one and two thousand sticks are often given—I mean to say fairly broken over the soles of the feet—and thicker sticks than mine; say, six thousand blows.”

I asked what was the result of such beating.

“Well,” said the doctor, “I have known them fatal; but it is very rare, and only in the case of the victim being old or diseased.”

I was told that it is really very much a matter of bribing the farrashes (carpet-spreaders) who administer the punishment. As a rule, a severe beating, such as is given by the king’s farrashes, keeps a man in bed for weeks or months. Culprits much prefer it to a fine. Here the doctor called one of his servants.

“Which would you prefer,” said he, “to lose a month’s pay or take such a beating as those soldiers had?”

“The beating, of course,” replied the man.

“His pay is ten kerans a month,” said the doctor (seven-and-sixpence).

Custom, I suppose, is everything; to our tender feet such a beating would be very terrible, but Persians of the lower class walk much barefoot; in fact, like our own tramps, unless the road be very stony, one sees them on the march take off their boots and go bare, to save shoe-leather or sore feet.

The doctor told me of the trials and troubles of his position, his long hours of duty, and his many anxieties when his young charge was ill. “Your arrival is a great thing,” he said; “you can speak as I cannot dare to, and you can insist on proper directions being carried out. At present, when the prince is indisposed, all the visitors and all the old women prescribe, and as he tries all the remedies, he becomes really ill.

“Then I have to telegraph his state to the king; then the king’s French physician and his other hakims are ordered to suggest remedies. You can fancy the result. Why, when I came here, the then hakim-bashi was a young and rowdy prince, who, though a very good fellow, kept the Prince-Governor permanently on the sick-list, gave him two china-bowls of physic to take a day, and tabooed everything that was nice. Of course I broke through all that, and, by keeping him free from physic and on good plain food, he is a strong and healthy youth.” I sympathised with the doctor, and took my leave.

From the doctor’s house I went to the principal bazaar of the town to buy carpets, for I had disposed of most of my own on leaving Kermanshah, to lessen the weight of my luggage. I was shown several hundred carpets, some four by seven yards, down to little rugs a yard square. Some of the finer carpets, astonished me by their beauty, and also their price—forty pounds was a usual figure for a large and handsome carpet.

The finer and more valuable carpets were not new—in fact, few really good carpets are made nowadays. At the time I am speaking of (sixteen years ago) the magenta aniline dyes were unknown to the carpet-makers of Persia, and all the colours except the greens were fast. Nowadays the exact reverse is the case. A very brilliant carpet is produced, and if a wet handkerchief is rubbed on it, the colours come off; these are not fast, and the carpet is worthless.

The aniline dyes are particularly used in the Meshed carpets, and as these are the showiest and most attractive, they are largely exported. Of course a native will not look at them, for when he buys a carpet he expects it to last at least a century: he is generally not disappointed. One sees many carpets which are quite fifty years old with hardly a sign of wear.

At the time of which I am speaking, carpets had very seldom been exported from Persia, and consequently there was no rubbish manufactured; now (1883) it is quite different; if a very good carpet is wanted, an old one must be bought.

The carpets made for the European market are coarse, and the weaving loose. Many, indeed, are made of fast colours, but gaudy patterns only are used, and the fine and original patterns formerly in vogue are disappearing. Of a couple of hundred carpets brought for sale, perhaps there may be only six distinct patterns, though, of course, the borders and arrangement of the colours may vary. The favourite patterns are the “Gul Anar” and “Herati:” the latter is certainly very effective, and is the pattern of nine-tenths of the carpets exported.

To choose a carpet, the first thing is to see if the colours are fast. This is done by rubbing with a wet cloth. If the slightest tinge is communicated to this, the carpet should be rejected. Then, if the carpet is limp, and can be doubled on itself like a cloth, it is “shul-berf” (loosely woven) and scamped. A carpet which is well woven (I am speaking of new ones) is always stiff. Greens in the pattern should be avoided, as they will fade to a drab, but this drab is not unpleasing; white, on the contrary, in time becomes a pale yellow, and is a good wearing colour, and should be chosen rather than avoided.

The thinner and finer the carpet is, the greater is its value. The size of the thread of the wool should be noticed, and the smaller it is the better. It should be remembered that, in the question of price, a thinner thread means a great difference in the amount of labour in making.

The size, too, of the pattern should be noted, as a large pattern is proportionately much cheaper. Again, the finer patterns being only undertaken by the best weavers, one is more likely to get a good carpet with a fine pattern than with a coarse. The general effect, too, should be noted. This is never bad, but at times an eccentric pattern is come across.

The softer the carpet is to the hand, the more valuable it is as a rule, if it be not a Meshed carpet with aniline dye. These latter should be avoided, as they always fade, and are of very small value.

One of the reasons why Oriental carpets last so long, is that chairs are not used, and they are not walked on by boots, and so dirtied and worn, but by bare feet. The carpet should now be doubled, and the ends applied to each other. If one is broader than the other, it shows careless work, and the carpet should be rejected as “kaj” (uneven, or rather, crooked).

It must be then spread on a level floor and smoothed, to see if it lies flat. Many carpets have “shatūr,” or creases; these never come out. The carpet never lies flat, and wears in a patch over the “shatūr.”

If all is yet satisfactory the carpet must be turned bottom upwards, and the edges carefully examined; if any darns are seen in the edges of the carpet it must be rejected, for the Persians have a plan of taking out any creases by either stretching the edges, which often break under the process, or, if there is a redundancy, cutting it out and fine drawing it so skilfully that it is only detected on carefully examining the back. Such carpets are worthless.

The top of the carpet should now be inspected; if the edging of cotton at the top or bottom be blue with no white in it, the carpet is rubbish, and merely a thing got up for sale, absolutely a sham. The edge or finish should be either white cotton or black wool; the latter is by far the best, but is seldom seen nowadays. The all-woollen carpets are mostly made near Mūrghab, and by the wandering tribes of Fars; they are very seldom exported, and are always of sad patterns, often very irregular.

In making a carpet, the women who weave it will often run out of the exact shade of wool used in some part of the pattern or even ground-work; they will continue with another shade of the same colour. This has a curious effect to the European eye, but the native does not look on it as a defect.

The value in Persia of a carpet in the present day may, if perfect (either new or old), be reckoned at from fifteen shillings to two pounds a square yard. In the larger carpets nothing can be obtained under a pound a square yard.

Of course there are a few carpets which have been made to order for great personages which are worth more than the price I have given, but these are not easily obtained and only at prix fou. By the term carpet, I mean what Persians call kali, that is, in contradistinction to farsch. Kali is our idea of carpet, that is, a floor-covering, having a pile.

Farsch means floor-covering generally, and may be “nammad,” or felt, or “gelim,” a thin, pileless floor-covering of coarse pattern, and much used in Europe as a portière; in these “gelim” white greatly predominates, and they soon get soiled and dirty; they are only used in Persia by the villagers and poor.

The farsch hamam-i, or bath carpet, is a finer species of gelim made near Kermanshah; both sides are alike, the patterns are elaborate and beautiful, and the colours very lovely, but they fade, being mostly of aniline dye, and are harsh to the feel. Their only recommendation is their extreme portability.

The nammad, or felts (carpets), are generally used by Persians to go round the room and act as a frame to the carpet (kali), which occupies the top and centre.

They are three in number for each room; two kanareh, or side pieces, a yard to a yard and a half wide, and a sir-andaz, literally that which is thrown over the head (of the apartment). The kanareh are from half to two and a half inches in thickness, and are usually of a light-brown or yellow-ochre colour, being ornamented with a slight pattern of blue and white, or red and green, which is formed by pinches of coloured wool inserted when the felt is made.

The best nammad are made at Yezd, and are often expensive; they cost about thirty shillings a square yard, and will last a century; they are two inches thick.

Nammad, however, are now getting out of fashion, for they will not stand the wear produced by chairs, which are coming into common use among the rich. Carpets are taking their place.

These nammad, or felts, are universally used as great-coats by the peasantry, and are very good indeed as an outer covering, being seamless. They are often made with bag-like sleeves with a slit at the wrists, thus forming a glove, and when the peasant wants to use his hands, they are thrust through the slit and the glove portion turned back over the wrist. They are all in one piece.

The gelim, or tent carpets, are very suitable for travelling or rough work, and being thin are easily dried. They wash well, and have no pile.

There is yet another variety of carpet called jejim: this is very thin and more like a plaid in consistency; it is used by horsemen, who wrap their spare clothing in it and use it as a bed and carpet too.

For about fifty pounds I was able to get enough carpets for all my living rooms, and, owing to the steady rise in the price of carpets, on my departure in nine years’ time on leave, I got as much as I gave for them. Exactly the same as with horses after the famine, the demand being greater than the supply on account of exportation, prices rose considerably.

A good deal of illness occurring just at this time among the staff, I had my attention directed to the water, which, being mostly from surface wells, was much contaminated. I therefore engaged a water-carrier from the town, purchased a skin and bucket for him, and the staff were supplied with a skinful twice a day, for cooking and drinking purposes, from the monastery well—a deep and good one.

The Persians are particular what water they drink, and invariably employ a sakka, or water-carrier; but the Armenians generally have a cesspool just outside their house door, and in its immediate proximity the well is dug, often only ten feet deep. The result is obvious.

Our superintendent being a married man, collars which I had cast off for the last year, principally because I could not get them washed, had to be worn; and I had to send them to Teheran by post to get them washed, for in Ispahan the art of ironing was unknown; and the American term for a shirt, “boiled rag,” was literally appropriate.

I made the acquaintance of three brothers who were Syuds, or holy men, but who had the reputation of being freethinkers; these men called on me and insisted on my breakfasting with them in the town: they were wealthy landed proprietors and merchants. I found their house beautifully furnished and their hospitality was great; they discoursed much on the subject of religion, and were very eloquent on the injustices perpetrated in Persia. They were nearly related to the Imām-i-Juma, or high priest, a very great personage indeed, who ruled the town of Ispahan by his personal influence. It was said that any one who incurred his displeasure always, somehow or other, lost his life.

Under the shadow of such a relation, the Syuds Hassan and Houssein and their brother openly held their very liberal opinions. They were, in fact, sectaries of the Baab.

This impostor has succeeded in establishing a new religion, the tenets of which are very difficult to get at—a community of property being one. Mahommedans state that a community of women is also observed; this is, however, very doubtful.

The execution of their prophet, far from decreasing their numbers, has had an opposite effect; many among the Ispahanis and Zinjanis still secretly profess Baabiism.

A few years before my arrival in Ispahan (1867), a determined attempt was made on the life of the present Shah by a few of the fanatics of this sect, and the unsuccessful conspirators were put to death with horrible tortures. (For details see Lady Shiel’s work.) In these latter days (1880), when I was in Ispahan, a priest was denounced by his wife as a Baabi. I saw him led to prison; he avowed his Baabiism and declined to retract, though offered his life; he, however, denied the statements of his wife and daughter, who accused him of wishing to prostitute them to others of his co-religionists.

On being taken to the public square for execution, after having been severely bastinadoed, and when in chains, knowing his last hour was come, he was offered his life if he would curse Baab.

He replied, “Curses on you, your prince, your king, and all oppressors. I welcome death and long for it, for I shall instantly reappear on this earth and enjoy the delights of Paradise.” The executioner stepped forward and cut his throat.

A few days after his execution, my friends the three brothers were arrested, their valuables looted by the king’s son the Zil-es-Sultan, the then Governor of Ispahan, and by the Imām-i-Juma, the successor of their former protector in the office of high priest of Ispahan. Their women, beaten and insulted, fled to the anderūns (harems) of friends and relations, but were repulsed by them for fear of being compromised. They then came to the telegraph-office in Julfa and sat in an outer room without money or food. After a few days the relatives, rather than let the (to them) scandal continue of the women being in the quarters of Europeans, gave them shelter.

The real cause of the arrest of these men was not their religion; the Imām-i-Juma owed them eighteen thousand tomans (seven thousand two hundred pounds); they were sent for and told that if they did not forgive the debt they would be denounced and inevitably slain. But habit had made them bold; they declined to even remit a portion of the sum owing; they were politely dismissed from the high priest’s presence, and a proposition made to the prince that the whole of their property should be confiscated by him, and that they should be accused of Baabiism and executed. This was agreed to. They were sent for and taken from the prince’s presence protesting their innocence, the youngest brother cursing Baab as proof of his orthodoxy.

The next day all were savagely beaten in prison, and it was generally given out that they would be executed; but being men of wealth and influence, no one believed in this.

The English missionary in Julfa, the assistant superintendent of the telegraph, and a few Armenians, addressed a letter to the prince which, while apparently pleading their cause, really, I fear, accelerated their fate (if it had any effect). The prince was furious, and vouchsafed no reply.

I happened to see him professionally, and he asked me why I had not signed this letter. I replied that I had not been asked to in the first place; and that I should hesitate to mix myself up in the politics of the country, being a foreign official. He appreciated my motives, and asked if I knew the three men.

I replied that all three were my intimate friends, and I trusted that their lives were not really in danger.

I never have been able to ascertain if his reply was merely given to quiet me or not; it was this:—

“The matter is really out of my hands—it has been referred to the king; he is very bitter against Baabis, as you know; nothing that sahibs in Julfa may do will have any effect. Why, sahib, what would your Prince of Wales say if he were interviewed, and letters written to him about confessed criminals by obscure Persians? The missionary, the missionary, he only troubles me to make himself notorious.”

I explained that these Syuds were really personal friends of the missionary as well as my own.

“All disaffected people are friends of missionaries, as you very well know.”

I again asked him if they would be spared or not?

“I can tell you nothing more,” he said; “one has cursed Baab, he will not die. As for the others the king will decide; for me, I wish personally to kill no one; you have known me long enough to know I dislike blood. I am not the Hissam-u-Sultaneh” (the king’s uncle, a very severe Governor). He changed the subject and declined to return to it. I cannot tell if the two elder brothers had been offered their lives or not. I went back to Julfa hoping that they would all be spared. The town was in great excitement. Next morning at dawn their throats were cut in the prison, and their bodies flung into the square. The prince had not dared to execute them publicly for fear of a tumult.

Their houses were looted, and part of their estates; the Imām-i-Juma’s share of the plunder was large, and he never repaid the eighteen thousand tomans. Such was Persia in 1880. The youngest brother, who had cursed Baab, was spared, and afterwards reinstated in part of his family property.